#my first car was passed from cousin to cousin and it was a piece of shit

[rebrandedbard]

I GOT A NEW TRUCK! And this is the first thing I put inside.

[hoe4sports]

The little ragdoll

Alessia Russo x Leah Williamson x child

A note from the author: Once again, another fic based off my life. This is a part of a potential series called “Musli”. Enjoy!

Warning: Fostercare, anxiety, long fic

Summary: You are moved into yet another foster home, and you spend your first 12 hours with Alessia and Leah. Oh, and their little companion.

-

You sit in the social worker’s car while she talks about your new home. She says that this home is a good home, but she said that too about the Johnson family and the Sussex family. You shrug your shoulders as a respons before gripping the ear of your plush cat tighter. The kitty is white, or he used to be white until your last foster father spilled his coffee all over him. You tried to rinse him in the sink, but your foster sister got upset with you. He is patchy brown now, and he smells of coffee. You don’t even like coffee. But he is the last piece of home you have left; your parents had no family. No grandparents and no siblings or cousins. Just you.

The houses are passing by your window, and you see the car moving from lower class areas to middle class areas to upper class areas and back to lower class areas. All your bad experiences are sadly linked with lower class families. The families where money is tight is statistically speaking where abuse is more likely to happen. The big raindrops rolls down the windows and you watch two raindrops to see who is faster. The answer is none of them; because a big truck splashes the window and vanishes the raindrops.

“The new family is excited to welcome you. They don’t have any kids, but they do have a friend for you”

“A friend? Like a chicken?”

You feel excited. You like chickens, they are friendly and they don’t bite.

“No silly, a kitty!”

Your eyes widen at the thought of living in the same house as a cat. You used to have a cat, back in your real home and the memory of him makes you miss him every day. You loved your cat. You love your plush cat. It sparks a tiny excitement in you, but then again you worry if you are allowed to touch the cat. Sometimes, foster kids aren’t allowed to touch certain toys, animals or even parts of the house. Tears forms in your eyes of the thought of him, and you clutch your hand tighter around the plastic bag of personal items that you own. It’s weird, you decide. You used to have puzzles that mommy would puzzle with you, and books that daddy would read to you. You used to have Barbie and dolls. And mommy would buy you so many dresses. You don’t have any dresses anymore. No puzzles. No books. No Barbie and no dolls. It’s only you, your teddy and a few pairs of pants and shirts. It used to make you feel sad, but you are just thankful for getting out of the last foster home.

The car suddenly comes to a stop in front of a big white house. It is a fancy house made out of wood and you can see what looks like handrails on the top of the house. There seems to be a garden, and there is a nice front porch with flowers on it. You blink as you look towards the door. It has a cat door. It resembles your real home. Where your mom planted flowers in the garden and your dad would cut the grass. It was only last summer, but it feels like a lifetime ago. The sudden onset of dejavu makes you smile. But then, you suddenly don’t want to leave the car. You don’t feel ready to disappoint yet another family. Perhaps, this family have more rules than draw others. There are always so many rules. Rules about what you are allowed to eat to what soaps you can use. So you let go of the plastic bag and clutch your fists to the seatbelt. The social worker opens up your door, and you shake your head. She tries to grab your hand, but you refuse. You really do not want to come out of the car.

She gives you a sad smile.

“Okay, how about you sit here and I’ll go get your new fosters?”

You shake your head rapidly and your little heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. You feel warm, and sweaty, and stressed, and scared.

“I cannot let you sit in the car forever, I’m really sorry. I’m gonna have to lift you out of the car now.”

You close your eyes while your hand unbuckles your belt. The last family made you buckle and unbuckle yourself, so you are no stranger to helping yourself. You unwillingly hop out of the car and hold your kitty tight to your chest. The plastic bag comes along, but it’s too heavy to carry so it ends up dragging behind you. The social worker would grab it, if you would’ve let her; you don’t trust anyone with your things anymore. One family threw away your favourite dress and another lost the last picture you had of your mom and dad.

You find yourself In front of the big front door when the social worker presses the doorbell. It’s late, close to bedtime and the rain is pouring down. You yawn. The door swings open after a few seconds and you get caught off guard. You drop your plastic bag and hide behind the social workers leg.

“Hi! Welcome, please, please come in!” A blonde woman says. You peek at her from behind the social workers leg while trying to decide what category to put her in. She has kind eyes, like your mommy and she is smiling. Your social worker steps forwards which leaves you stumbling a few steps forwards. The embarrassment shows up on your face, but before you say anything; you see the woman reaching for your plastic bag. You know the drill, so you quickly snatch it from the ground before slowly moving yourself to the inside of the home.

You scan the entrance. There is a white built in bench with shoes underneath. You see a coat rack and there is some decor. There is even curtains and blinds on the windows that faces the entrance. It smells like warm cookies and milk, like your mother would make when you were little. Then, you see the other woman. She looks stricter than the first woman. She’s not that smiley, but she dosent look mean. A piece of her hair hangs in front of her eye before she quickly brushes it to the back of her ear.

“Y/N, that is Leah and this is Alessia. Say hi to them, please.”

You can’t say a word. Like all the words and letters of the English alphabet have left your mind. You shake your head rapidly. All the bones in your body freezes and your tears starts pressing in your eyes. You don’t know what to say or how to say anything. You don’t wanna sound dumb, and you don’t wanna sound sassy. The social worker looks down at you and sighs.

“Thank you for taking her in at a short notice. Things weren’t exactly good, and I had to move her quickly. She’s a good kid.”

One of the women squats down to your height.

“Hi, I’m Alessia. Who is this?” she asks. She points to your kitty, but she dosent touch him. You clutch him to your chest, and a silent tear rolls down your cheek. You feel terrified, maybe you aren’t allowed to have him?

“Uh..His name is Meow” you mumble, barely giving her a second of eye contact. Even though you don’t look at her, she looks at you. She waits and she seems to be patient.

“Im happy that you and Meow came to stat with us. We are happy to have you stay here for a while”

You feel scared. A while. How long is a while? It’s one of those adult’s acronyms that you don’t understand. Maybe, if you are good; they will let you stay for more than a while. You decided that you need to be polite, and kind, and helpful. You offer Alessia eye contact, and she smiles warmly at you.

“Oh look, there is someone else excited to see you” Alessia says as their white cat appears. He has white and brown fur, and he has blue eyes. He looks exactly like your old cat. The cat that used to live with you and mommy and daddy. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, and the cat trots its way over to you.

You reach out your hand, like you mother taught you. He sniffs it before instantly bonking his head into your had. Then, her purrs loudly.

“His name is Musli, he is a ragdoll, and he is 4 years old: just like you.”

“Musli” you parrot quietly while looking at the cat. You decide that you like musli and for a second, you feel calm.

“Alright, Y/N, I have to go now. Be good, okay? I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

She pats your head.

“Thank you once again Mrs. Russo and Mrs. Williamson. Call me if any issues or concerns.”

And with that, you are left alone. You, your kitty and your plastic bag is left to yourself. Tears swell in your eyes, and Musli rapidly rubs himself on you. You look down at him, and a teardrop lands in his fur.

“Y/N?”

You look up and you gulp. Time to be good. You nod your head while wiping your eyes on your sleeves.

“We were about to go into the kitchen to have some cookies, do you like cookies?” Leah asks while looking at you.

You nod again as your stomach rumbles. The last time you had something to eat was this morning, when you had a few pieces of carrots.

“Let’s bring meow to the kitchen with us, so he can have a treat too”

Alessia winks, and it makes you smile shyly. You follow the two women to the kitchen; meow in your right hand and the plastic bag dragging behind from your left hand. The bag leaves a stream of water from underneath it, and it makes you feel embarrassed.

“This is where I sit, and this is where Leah sit.”

Alessia points to a table with four chairs. You nod while scanning the kitchen. It’s big, and white. It’s pretty, and there is a gigantic fridge with a tap in the door. You shove your bag next to the wall, careful to not leave it out for anyone to trip on. That way, nobody will get mad at you.

Leah drags out a chair, it’s pink and it has a little step, a little place for your feet and a seat. It’s a children’s chair and you feel confused. Did they have a kid that you don’t know about? It scares you, because that means that there will be a competition and normally, you lose them.

You stand there dumbfounded while Alessia gets the out the plates. Leah gets out the glasses. They are high up, in the cabinets over the kitchen sink. It makes you sad because that means that you can’t help out with the plates.

Soon, everything is set and you are still frozen in the middle of the room.

“Come here, Y/N” Leah says before patting the pink chair. You slowly walk over to her before looking at it.

“Whose chair is that?” You whisper.

“It’s yours, you can use it for however long you want” Alessia says while smiling at you.

You climb up carefully, and you place meow next to you. Alessia puts forward a little bowl of milk, which leaves you confused. Are you supposed to drink out of the bowl? You don’t mind, really, all you want to is to be good. Your hands grab the bowl and you lean forward to drink the milk.

“For meow” Alessia says, and it makes you feel embarrassed. Leah quickly fills up your glass while Alessia puts the bowl infront of your plate. She pats the table, and you put meow infront of it.

“See? He likes it” Alessia says which makes you smile. Then you eat your warm cookie quietly. Alessia tells you about her day, and Leah answers. You just nod along, busy eating your cookie. This feels nice, you think. They seem kind. But you worry that they will be extra mean once you make them angry for being disrespectful, bad or dumb.

After finishing the cookie and drinking the milk, Leah clears the table.

“Thank you Mrs. Russo and Mrs. Williamson” you mumble, scared to say their names wrong. The pair of them shares a sad look before looking towards you.

“Please love, Call us Alessia and Leah. We aren’t your mom or your dad, but we are here to take care of you”

You nod.

“Should we find the bedroom?”

You nod, again.

-

“This is the bed. I didn’t know what colors you like, so I grabbed what we had. We can go out tomorrow to get you a few things. Where is your bag?”

Alessia says. You lift your bag up, and Leah reaches for it.

“Can I help you put your clothes away in the dresser?”

You nod.

“Thank you, Mrs. Leah”

The pair of them frowns, and you don’t understand why. Then Leah takes your clothes out; one by one until they are all taken out. The clothes are all wet from being dragged on the ground, and the pair of them shares a sad smile.

“Im gonna have to wash your clothes, they are all wet and dirty. Is that okay? Then tomorrow, we will get some more clothes” Alessia says while looking at the small pile of clothes.

You nod, but feel confused. Who are we getting clothes for, you wonder. Perhaps they need you to help carry the bags home. You are either way grateful for getting to come along instead of being left home by yourself.

You let out a big yawn, and drop meow in the action. Alessia instantly picks him up and reach him towards you.

“I think that maybe mr.meow needs a bath? Do you want to grab your toothbrush, hairbrush and pj so you can both get ready for bed?”

You look at her in confusion. You don’t own a hairbrush or a toothbrush anymore. It makes you feel dirty and uncomfortable, so you look down at your socks.

“Mrs. Alessia.. I…uh.. I don’t have a toothbrush or a hairbrush” you stutter out. You don’t see it, but Alessia and Leah shares a heartbroken look.

“Okay little miss, you can call me just Alessia and her just Leah. Whatever you want to, ok?”

You nod.

“We will put down toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrushes, hair ties, hair bands and knot spray on the list for tomorrow. Do you have a pj?”

You shake your head.

“That’s fine, Leah will find something for you to wear. Let’s go to the bathroom to get mr.meow cleaned up”

You smile at Alessia while nodding.

“Okay” you mumble out just loud enough for Alessia to hear.

-

Mr.Meow sits in the bathroom sink in a bubble bath. His whiskers are pointing downwards because of the weight of the water. Musli sits next to your feet, and you find yourself feeling safer around him. Your mommy would always say that a cat knows a good person; so if you ever needed to know how to categorise someone; see if a cat likes them. The memory makes you smile. Alessia hands you a tiny brush and smiles.

“Do you want to give him a little scrub?”

You smile and nod rapidly. Then, you get to scrubbing. You scrub, and scrub and scrub. Then Alessia scrubs, and scrubs and scrubs. Everything from his tail to his ears and paws. Soon enough, meow is white again and he goes into the dryer for a few minutes until he is dried enough for you to cuddle him.

Leah steps into the room while you are hugging him tightly with Alessia sitting on the toilet lid.

“Here, I have a little cousin that is the same age as you. She said that you could have this!”

Leah pulls out a pink pj. It’s a set with flowers on the pants and a princess on the front of it. It makes you light up. You nod your head before crashing into Leah’s legs in excitement. Leah looks surprised for a few seconds until Alessia nudges her to have her put her hand on your head. It feels safe.

“Thank you, Leah”

-

After washing meow, brushing your hair with Alessia’s brush and putting on the new pj; Alessia and Leah put you to bed. Or, rather they followed you to your bed while you put yourself to sleep. They turned on the little nightlamp on the nightstand before they said their goodnights. You found yourself laying in bed listening to the sounds of the house, much like you did at the old foster homes. Always waiting for someone to be disappointed with you.

The bed is soft just like your bed back at home. Not your old temporary home, but your old real home. The home you were born into. Where you took your first steps. Where you learned to put the cereal in the bowl before the milk. Where you learned to say please and thank you.

The bedroom is big. It has been painted a calm pink color, and there is a bookshelf with a few books. A few of the books are books you recognise, like the pink glittery one with Pappa pink. There is some toys and what you seem to recognise as Lego. You are not sure if you are even allowed to use the toys, but you appreciate being able to look at them. You don’t really know who they belong to because you arrived so late that you couldn’t think of asking. Your hand presses down on the mattress you have found yourself laying down on. It’s soft, and it’s comforting in a weird way. It feels like what used to be home. Before mom and dad and you took the trip to the local beach. Before one drunk driver changed your life forever. Before your life become something that you couldn’t even recognise anymore,

But the bed isn’t like home. It’s probably the most comfortable bed you have ever had, you decide. Even nicer than the one you once had. The frame is white with butterflies. The pillows are fluffy and the duvet is warm. You like the print too, it is pink with little purple flowers. Even though your new foster parents have spent a ton of money and effort on making this bedroom feel cosy, you end up sleeping on the ground. Not directly on the ground, but on the big thick fluffy rug in the middle of the room. It’s pink too, so you decide that it is perfect to sleep on. This way, you won’t get too comfortable in Leah and Alessia’s home. If you get too comfortable, then it will hurt even worse when they decide to kick you out. That’s why your hands softly pull the duvet and one pillow down to the floor, before laying down on it and wrapping yourself in the duvet. It feels strangely safe to be in this bedroom, in your temporary house. The feeling is new, and you are not sure whenever to regress the feeling or embrace it. You close your eyes slowly, listening to the soft hum of your two new foster moms chatter soothingly downstairs. It leaves you feeling like you are in a state of bliss that allows all the cells in your body to, for once, relax completely. It feels like you are floating, like you are at peace. Meow is in your hand, and musli comes to lay down next to you. He purrs, sending vibrations through your heart making it feel calm. Soon enough, you see your mom and you feel yourself drifting away.

-

The next morning, you wake up terrified. Did you oversleep? Why don’t your foster moms wake you up? You feel anxious. Perhaps you were supposed to wake yourself up? Irresponsible. That would already be one shot. You only get three. That’s what the other fosterfamily told you. Three shots and you are out.

You are only four, so it isn’t expected of you to wake yourself up. But you don’t know that. You drag yourself out of bed, and then it hits you: oh god. You fell asleep on the ground, but you woke up in the bed. Was it wrong of you to sleep on the floor? Did Leah or Alessia put you in bed? Maybe they are upset with you? It scares you to the point where you feel yourself shiver like a chihuahua.

You stumble out of bed before making a silenced run to the door. You shuffle down the hallway until you see the staircase and you peek out from behind the handrails. It smells like coffee, and pancakes. You find a place to sit in the staircase where you can look into the kitchen, but still be partially hidden by the shadows of the dark hallway.

Leah and Alessia is in the kitchen. Leah is reading something from her phone out loud and Alessia is listening while making pancakes. You can see orange juice on the table as well as jam, cheese and milk. Leah has a cup of coffee with milk in it. It’s light brown, and you recognise it because your old foster mother would tell you to put milk in her coffee for her.

You can feel the hunger growing in your gut, and you hold meow close to you while closing your eyes hoping that it will disappear. Then, Musli hopes downstairs. He sniffs your arm before meowing at you. You quietly try to shush him, but it doesn’t help.

“Y/N? There is breakfast for you in here love”

Leah says while smiling at you from the kitchen. You look back at her with wide eyes. Musli is still rubbing himself on your shoulder, and you force yourself to stand up. You quickly go to the kitchen, not wanting your new moms to wait. Waiting isn’t a good thing, especially when they are waiting on you. It can cause them to be upset with you. You don’t want that.

You hop up on the chair you sat in last night, and your eyes widen when Alessia places a pink princess plate infront of you with a few pancakes on. Are all of these for you? You feel confused. She hands you a fork, not an adult fork. A tiny fork with a bunny engraved into it.

Alessia sits down, and you look at her. She is now eating, and you look over at Leah who is pouring herself juice. You feel conflicted; if you ask if it is for you then they might take it away because you seem ungrateful. But if you don’t ask, then they can get upset with you for eating everyone’s breakfast.

“Uh, Alessia? Can I eat this?”

“Huh? Are you allergic?”

“What’s allergic?”

They both share a sad look, but to you; it looks like disappointment.

“It’s for you baby, just eat however much you want”

You look at Alessia and Leah. Sceptical, yet grateful. You nod before you start eating. Then you realise that you might need to eat everything; because you don’t know if you are gonna get another meal today. It feels strange to sit here with two adults eating pancakes. Musli is sleeping by your chair. It almost feels like a dream. Like something that is taken out of a movie. But it’s a movie that you don’t want to end. That’s the thing about movies; they always have an end.

[tatoda]

Guitar Pick 2 || college!conrad x fem reader

masterlist

request

part 1

summary: conrad brings you to cousins, everyone knows about your relationship except belly, who has a huge crush on conrad

pairing: college!conrad x fem!reader

warnings: angst, ends with fluff, jealous belly, steven being a good best friend

wc: 2.2k

here’s part 2 :)i changed it up from the request! i hope y’all enjoy im writing some more pieces for y’all !! i ended up not putting smut i hope you understand.

It’s been almost 10 months with conrad. After he asked you out at college, you both instantly hit it off. You learned all about his life and how he grew up in a home with his mom having cancer and her passing away last year and his dad cheating on her. But soon enough after he was a quiet guy he thought it was time to start opening up. He learned about your family and how they always didn’t believe in you so you proved them wrong. He has never been happier.

You met steven and jeremiah one night they came to visit you and conrad. And you instantly hit it off with them, especially steven. He became one of your closest friends when you hung out with him, conrad, and jeremiah. It was a fully platonic friendship. He was there for you and you were there for him. Conrad enjoyed that you got along with them so well. You 4 hung out as much as possible and they loved you and were happy conrad finally found someone that made him happy.

Conrad invited you to his beach house for the first time. He always talked about it and offered for you to come, but you didn’t wanna intrude. You finally said yes to visiting, one problem. Isabel, or as he calls her Belly, had a huge crush on conrad. Since they were kids. He never liked her back, never thought of her that way, but everyone knew that she was in love with him. And here he was bringing you to the one place she was at. One condition, conrad and you both decided to act as friends at cousins so he could break the news easily to her. So your mission was to act as just friends as possible.

“sorry about the whole belly situation.” conrad’s hand rested on your thigh his fingers tapping against your skin

“no, no. it’s okay i understand, you don’t want to hurt her.” you turned your head and smiled at him

“i promise i’ll tell her.” that was the last thing he said before pulling into the driveway behind steven’s car

You didn’t know what to expect. You felt as if he grew up with her his whole life that there had to be some sort of feelings he felt for her. To be honest you didn’t know what to think

When you both got to the front door of the house he looked back at you once more before entering. This was gonna be something for sure.

“hello!” conrad yelled throughout the house

“connie” laurel— who you have seen in pictures— walks around the corner from the kitchen and pulls him into a hug before turning to you “and you must be y/n! i’m so glad conrad found a friend at Brown.” she smiled at you “he keeps to himself too much.”

“laurel.” he let out a warning tone before footsteps from upstairs banged against the floor

“y/n!” steven yelled and ran down the stairs pulling you into a hug and then resting his arm over your shoulder “mom this is who i was telling you about.” it then hit her who you really were

“oh my you’re conrad’s-“ she was cut off by belly coming around the corner

“hey conrad.” she was pretty, so much prettier in person. it made you insecure to see how perfect she was and you weren’t, he looked like he belonged with her. steven felt you shift under his arm

“i’ll show you the guest bedroom.” you didn’t say anything but followed him upstairs and saw belly get on her tippy toes to hug your boyfriend

“is that y/n?” belly questioned stepping back and you lost sight of them only hearing them now

“yeah, yeah. steven and jere thought it was a good idea to invite her because she’s been really good friends with us.

“are she and steven a thing?” you looked at steven and he almost burst out laughing but put a hand over his mouth

“fuck no,” he responded laughing and you entered the guest bedroom

“i’m sorry about him,” he admitted as you put your stuff on the bed

“it’s for the best, i guess.” you softly smiled at him “i might just take a nap until dinner, it was a long drive.”

“are you sure? we were going to go surfing?”

“no i’ll just sleep.” he nodded before leaving the room and your insecurities and sadness stayed with you

Conrad checked on you before going surfing to see you sleeping and he didn’t want to bother you. So here he was sitting on his surfboard with jere and steven.

“was she okay?” he questioned

“you’re seriously asking that?” steven laughed

“man, you know she’s not okay. i know that and i haven’t even seen her.” jeremiah splashed water around and conrad looked down at a bracelet you made him on your 3 month anniversary

“dude how would you feel, put it into perspective. if she told you, you had to act as her friend around someone who was her childhood— put that in your head— a childhood friend who was a guy and had a crush on her and she told you just to be friends around him. how would you feel?” steven looked at him as conrad messed with the bracelet before looking up at his best friend

“i’m so shitty.”

“glad that got into your small brain.” steven scoffed. “she’s the best thing that’s happened to you since your mom's death, she has made all of us happy but you especially. don’t lose that con. because what i saw in the guest bedroom was an insecure girl scared her boyfriend was going to leave her.”

You walked downstairs softly hoping belly wasn’t down there. You didn’t know if you could handle trying to act in front of her. Walking into the kitchen Laurel was measuring stuff for dinner. She looked up and smiled

“hi, y/n. the boys are surfing you’re welcome to stay and help me or watch tv. whatever you want.”

“I’d love to help you if that's okay?” laurel seemed surprised no one has ever helped her with dinner

“i’d love that. could you chop the lettuce?” she pointed to it on the cutting board

“of course, let me wash my hands.” you washed your hands and sat down at the bar starting to cut the lettuce

“don’t worry, belly went out to meet up with some girls from last year's deb ball to the boardwalk, she shouldn’t be back for the next few hours.” laurel looked down at her phone, “life 360 says she’s there right now, you can relax.” your shoulders slumped down

“i’m sorry laurel, i just don’t know what to do. belly is in love with him and it’s just a lot.”

“steven told me that he’s making you act as friends?” you nodded

“i just agreed with him, i didn’t want to upset him. and i always wanted to visit here, he told me many stories of your families and susannah.” sadness reached her eyes when you said that name

“i’m glad you came. she would love you.” she moved some ingredients to the side leaning against the counter, “steven told me about you, i just didn’t know you were you when you walked in. he told me how he has never seen conrad like this before, the smiling and the happiness. his mom's death really affected him, it affected all of us but he had the worst.”

“yeah, he’s really great. i can see when his shield is up, the car ride here he was nervous. he doesn’t wanna hurt belly.”

“she will get over it, her and jeremiah are meant for each other. susannah has known from the start.” the back door opened and the guys walked in with towels, conrad looked amazing and you always melted when he didn’t have a shirt on “hey boys, dinner will be ready in like 2 hours, belly’s out with friends.” she said that last part looking at conrad and you turned to continue chopping the lettuce

“thanks, mom, love you!” steven yelled walking up the stairs and jere followed which left one body lingering

“i’m going to go grab something from my bedroom.” laurel made an escape. conrad leaned down into you and kissed your head, which he knew you loved

“just one night, okay baby?” you looked up and him and nodded “i’m really sorry.” the heat of his breath fanned your face

“is okay,” you whispered leaning up to kiss him and he grabbed the side of your face kissing you deeper before moving his head back

“i’m gonna tell her tonight, okay?” laurel came back down the stairs winking at you

“conrad go get ready for dinner.”

“yes ma’am.” he kissed you once more and took off upstairs

Dinner went okay. There wasn’t much talking going around the table. You sat next to conrad and belly was across from him. When you looked down at your plate you could feel her eyes on you and then on conrad. Steven talked most of dinner about his new job at the county club which everyone listened.

“so y/n, you have a boyfriend back home?” belly’s question made your head pop up and you put your fork down nervously

“um, no. really not much time for that stuff with class happening.” you shifted and conrad moved his hand to rest on your thigh

“well it seems you have enough time to hang out with three guys,” she said back

“belly.” laurel said making belly sit back

“no, no. she’s right.” you smiled at the girl “my last relationship was rough, so i took a break from dating. he wasn’t the best and ruined a lot of things for me.” you truthfully said and conrad’s hand rubbed you softly knowing your past relationship

“oh, well i’m sorry.” belly looked around the table at everyone looking at her

“y/n actually plays almost every instrument!” steven put his glass down he took a sip of trying to change the subject

Dinner didn’t go on long after that. Everyone helped clean up everything and put things up before dessert. You were in the guest bedroom grabbing a sweatshirt and the door opened slightly as you see your boyfriend step through the door and walked towards you

“hey,” he stood in front of you and put his hands on your arms “you okay?” you nodded but didn’t say anything “it’s going to be okay.” he brought you closer and wrapped his arms around you kissing your forehead “look at me.” you lifted your head looking into his eyes “i love you.”

“i love you too.” he leaned down and kissed you softly but that didn’t last when a gasp came from the doorway and both of your heads looked to see belly standing there

“belly-“ conrad started to say but she cut him off

“um, dessert is ready.” she then hurried off

“i-“ he looked from you to the door then dropped his hands and took off after her making your heart drop

Of course, he would choose her. She’s the one that grew up with him his whole life. The one he got the see grown into a beautiful girl, prettier than you. She had a crush on him and was in love with him. There was no point, you felt like you were just a distraction at college, waiting for her.

You didn’t see where they went, and you didn’t go to the table for dessert. You took a walk down to the beach and down the shore before sitting down hugging your legs to your chest. As some tears went down your cheek. You didn’t want to be a second option.

You sat there for about 30 minutes before a body sat down next to you. And you knew it wasn’t your boyfriend but your best friend.

“he’s looking for you.” steven didn’t the same sitting position as you “belly’s pissed but you’re nothing compared to her, y/n.” you shook your head

“he ran after her,” you muttered into your arms

“to tell her that you were dating and didn’t want to hurt her.”

“i don’t know steven.” you looked at him

“i’ve never seen him the way he is with you. he’s happy, y/n. he talks about you 24/7 we have to ask him to shut up.” you softy laughed “he loves you. we have never seen him love anyone like you. he constantly texts me to ask me about you so he doesn’t seem a bother to you. he constantly tells us about the story of you guys meeting at the guitar store because he thinks if he didn’t find you after, he would be lost in his life. i have not seen a smile on him since susannah died, you brought it back.” you smiled down at the sand and steven’s phone went off with his ringtone for conrad

“i’ll answer.” you gestured towards the phone and he handed it to you and you swiped to answer

“steven, did you find her? fuck i’ve been looking everywhere man.” his voice cracked and you knew he was on the verge of tears “i need to find her-“

“conrad.” you stopped him and he let out s breath of relief

“y/n, baby. i’m so sorry.”

“it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not. i’m sorry, okay? i told her everything and she’s mad but i don’t care. i needed to be honest.” you heard a door close on his end “you left your phone here, you scared me when i came back to tell you, you weren’t here.”

“i needed some air, steven found me, i’m safe.” you smiled at steven “conrad i love you okay?” he chuckled

“i love you more, now please come home so we can have dessert.” you laughed

“on my way handsome.”

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

This year, I want to be a wetter, I mean better person - Mark Webber x reader

cws: age gaps (reader is in her 20s, Mark is in his 40s), perv! Mark, semi-public, squirting, dirty talk, author loves dilfs and hopes that one day dilfs will love her too

Whichever spirit possessed your parents to decide to move to the middle of nowhere, England was a hidden blessing. It may not have seemed that way when you had to endure their company for the 4 hour drive from the airport or when you knew that there was no one fuckable for miles. Not that you could get down and dirty under a family roof, whether it was somebody else's or your own. Nothing more haunting than staring down at the lone poster of Fernando Alonso from his Renaut era on your hideously painted walls while cumming. Or, more accurately faking an orgasm. So you spent a nice, festive Christmas Eve and Christmas in your new family home. Catalogued everything that went wrong in your life to land you in this position from the 26th onwards. Actually explored the town and found that at least 1 bar (as if it would have more than that not on the main street) was open on New Years.

Your parents were not party people. By 8, they had tucked in on the couch and were yawning through a holiday concert of some Dutch guy. You shimmied into the one presentable dress they had seemed to pack from your childhood home. "Conveniently," your cute clothes were in storage, and the owner was somewhere in Dubai at the moment. So you have to make do with this black piece. It's not your first choice. But at least the fact that you had grown some tits since being 18 a few years ago was comforting. You pass your parents by with a promise to not be long now. Being met with a sleepy "Don't worry, sweetheart." you know that they're going to sleep through the fireworks anyway.

To nobody's surprise, the bar isn't crowded. The raging bull is in a pathetic state. Some top 40 hits radio station is playing. The floor is sticky. The bartender looks like he's your parents' age, and it doesn't seem like he knows just what goes into your favorite Long Island iced tea. You sit down and ask him to keep pouring you rum and cokes until either he runs out or your wallet is empty. You sip his very boozy concoction slowly, as you're texting your friends. Complimenting their party fits. Asking details about potential hookups. Looking at pictures of their pets in ugly sweaters. As midnight draws near, someone else actually gets inside the bar. You look up and see a pair of green eyes and holy shit, it's a holiday miracle. It's Mark Webber. 9 time GP winner. Manager of your current favorite driver on the grid. Ultimate celebrity crush, Mark Webber. With the grace of a newborn giraffe, you slide out of your chair. You don't want him to see you, but at the same time, you need it to survive. There goes your cover of not knowing who he is. Now, the bar name makes sense. It all aligns like a jigsaw puzzle. The car themed coasters. The signed cocktail napkin framed on the wall. The only “fancy” drink on the menu being named the Aussie grit.

After you not so subtly go to the bathroom to reapply your lipstick and try to work wonders with a mascara wand, you go back to your place at the bar. Only Mark is next to you, bendy black straw into his namesake cocktail.

"Look, I don't know how much they paid you to tail me here, but I can double it." he says, and you're confused.

"You're some kind of journalist or something.” You shake your head, still too stunned that he's here, talking to you.

“Don't tell me you're just some big city girl whose boyfriend brought her to meet the parents, and now you're single because you found him groping his cousin. Because, believe me, that romcom's more of a staple than you think." He continues.

"Wow, how bad is this town that a young woman in a bar on NYE is news. My parents moved here in April. I'm visiting them for the first time. And so far, I haven't encountered any guys, much less the ones that think the best part of waking up is Folgers in their cup." You explain.

"Are your folks the couple who hate each other but are always bragging about their daughter's graduation in March?" Mark guesses, and you are once again stunned by just much this small town gets to people. Not only does a man that's starred into many of your wet dreams know your parents. No, that's not enough, he also knows they're not the perfect relationship role models. You can't help but wonder if it's hereditary and also the reason you haven't brought home a partner. Pushing that to the side, you reply to him with

"Just the ones.”

"You know your dad thinks we're best friends, and your mom keeps asking if I can hire you at Porsche or McLaren." He says and suddenly all the facetimes with your parents come back to you. The man with a very nice house who they invite over for tea sometimes. The one that's been a little under the weather lately. The one who drives a sports car to the center.

"You're motorsport Mark? Of course you are. Be grateful that you don't have any kids my age because I'd practically be your daughter in law too." You speak before you think, momentarily forgetting about the man's wife and kid. Then you wonder why he's out here with you and not back at home. You're inching to ask, but there is no way to say “are you divorced, and if yes, can I ride you into next year, please?"”. Especially after he hits you with a reminder of why that's a bad idea.

"You should be happy that your parents are proud of you, sweetheart. And that they want you to stick around with them here." He says.

"If I was, wouldn't I be about to watch the fireworks with them?" You ask.

"Still some time until that, isn't it? Wanna make it count?" He replies to your question with a question.

You agree, and there's two more Aussie Grits on the bar. The bar tender also places two laminated sheets of paper and two markers in front of you. The comic sans text on top says "New Years Resolutions" and the neat little lines give you 5 rows to write in.

"Sick of hearing us talk, aren't you?" Mark asks the other man, and the latter just grunts.

"Bet I can write mine before you finish your drink." The former driver says, clearly still a speed fiend. You shake on it, and you start chugging the strong drink. Meanwhile, he's adding chicken scratch sentences to the A4.

He beats you, and to his credit, all his resolutions are thought out and personal. You're happy to see that he's put "do more for Oscar" in there and giggle at the "post more on Instagram?". While you're still reading, he's busy gloating, making fun of you for not learning the most important thing in college - how to hold your liquor.

"What, like you could do any better. Mark, I'm surprised you're standing after the drinks you already had. I bet that I'll have to see you get locked in here till the morning for your own sake." You say, both posing a challenge and remembering the "beauty" of some more traditional British pubs. You hope that the one booth you see is at least comfortable. He doesn't back down, and you're on the clock, writing down what you want to accomplish in 2025. But your brain is buzzing from the drinks, from the way liquid is dripping down Mark's chin and onto his pants, by the fact that you're a horny drunk and the unavailable dilf next to you is too delicious to pass on. You lose, unsurprisingly. Handing over the list, you absent mindedly say

"You know I wouldn't mind your help with the last one, I'm sure you can make it happen, wink wink, nudge nudge.". You're referring to the item "attend my first grand prix," a dream of yours since getting into the sport. But apparently, in the rush, you had added a more nsfw goal under it. Because the item on your list that ended it prematurely was, in fact, "squirt for the first time.".

"You wanna double-check your work before saying things, sweetheart. " he asks, and you're mortified when you do. You start apologizing and gathering your things to leave. Mark places a strong hand on your bare thigh to stop you.

"I never said I wasn't going to do it. I'd be glad to. I'm just making sure that here and now is the place you want to bring this up." He says. Your jaw drops, and you're like a fish out of water.

"Aren't you married?" You ask. It's not the first that you thought would come out of your mouth. Yet, you have to hear him say it.

"Divorced. Technically, in the process of, but no ring. Empty house, and a cold bed. Only my left hand for relief." He says and you're picturing Mark pumping his cock in his fist. You cross your legs and clench your thighs slightly, which doesn't go unnoticed by the older man. He moves his hand and spreads them.

"And you, sweetheart? Do you have some secret boy toy to make your switch into adulthood more fun? Or a nice pretty girl like yourself that you've been shaking up with since your dorm days?" He asks.

"No. Same as you, but I use my right hand. My clit's too sensitive if I switch up my technique." You say, hellbent on making that man go crazy for you.

Mark looks around and tips a crisp 50-pound note from his wallet. You can't help but notice the little blue wrapper peeking out of the Italian leather. He calls over the bartender and asks for "2 coffees when we come back." You think the Aussie's going to take you to his car. Have you ruin his custom leather seats and make you lick up your mess as punishment? You guess he might even take you to his house, not that you have any idea where it is exactly. Ask you to hold on tight as the headboard to his once marital bed slams against the wall. Makes sure your sensitive little clit humps against the pillow as he's fucking you from behind.

But Mark drags you to the men's room instead. Spreads your legs and makes you grab the sink.

"You know I'm a man of few words. And as much as I'd love to start you off with a hands-on approach, I think you haven't earned it yet. So let's show you some videos first, huh?". He pulls out his phone and opens his Google drive. He's got a folder titled xxx and in it is maliciously organized subfolders by years.

"I can click any of them? And I'll see you making a woman squirt?" You say, impressed.

"Never met a girl whose pussy I couldn't make gush. Although I'd stick to the pre-retirement years." He says and you settle on a 2012 video. You know the later ones probably feature his ex. But this one stars a faceless blonde, all curves and moans. You squirm when Mark smacks her ass, watching it jiggle. You keep your eyes on how his tongue slides between her folds. You try to ignore how he's rolled up your dress and is just staring at your underwear. Watching it get wetter and wetter. You're too preoccupied with younger him to ask for his touch now.

The next video is a brunette, with pierced nipples and a possible disdain for Mark. That's gone when he slides into her, fingers pinching her clit. He makes her come too, and the next one and the one after that. You've seen enough. You turn and find him eye level with your cunt, long legs bent into a squat. He may be more than a decade older than in the video, but an old dog doesn't stop learning new tricks.

"Mark, I need you, please." You beg, beyond ready to be treated like one of his "little starlets" from the spank bank. You wonder if he'd film you too. Have your pussy soaking his cock in your juices as a memento of your time together.

"How do you want me, sweetheart?" He asks.

"Need you to fuck me, want to feel your cock inside of me, please." You moan out. And he's a perfect gentleman, because he promises he'll give it to you.

But first he slides his fingers to the front of your underwear and two of them are on your clit, rubbing. Maybe it's because of his height, that the length has spread even to his limbs. Maybe it's the dexterity, the sheer speed of his movements. Usually you'd prefer it starting slow, and building up. But with Mark, it was all climbing, starting at a 100 and moving towards 200 and above. Your hips are bucking against him, searching more. He slows just for a second in order to thrust two fingers inside of you.

"Look at you, already a mess. Did I get you so rilled up, sweetheart. Does this old man do it so much for you?" He asks and smiles as you can only groan and beg for more. He's not someone who draws out things, so he tells you to keep it up for him as he opens the condom package. He watches you whine that your fingers don't feel as good, that they aren't enough.

"Oh sweetheart, just you wait. You're going to be ruined." Mark says as he feeds you just the tip. He makes you take your hands off, replacing them with his. He thrusts up, matching his movements on your clit.

"It's too big, please." You say. Were you asking him for more or to stop? Your body seemed to favour the latter , because you were practically dripping on the bathroom floor. Mark uses his other hand to bring you closer to himself, his shallow thrusts pumping deeper and deeper. He's hitting that spot in your body, the one which you didn't even know existed.

"Be good and cum for me, will you, sweetheart? I don't have all night. So unless you want me to drag you out like this and fuck you on the town square under the fireworks, you better let go." Mark says. He does miss how tight you get around him when he talks like this. He continues, telling you how good you make him feel and how he can't wait to see your pretty orgasm face.That's what tips you over the edge. They're tears coming out of your eyes, you're pretty sure you're drooling and Mark's cock is indeed soaked with your juices. You can hear the obnoxious squelching of his last few thrusts, before he also comes.

He's still inside you when your alarm rings, the sound coming from your purse, long forgotten on the floor. You scramble to turn it off.

"One minute to midnight. Well, it's more like 20 seconds now." You announce. Mark takes your face in his hands (still slick with you) and kisses you gently. He doesn't have the heart to tell you that this is the first kiss he's had all year. You don't have the heart to tell him the same. All you know is that your return flight might be rebooked to a later date. You finally found something interesting to do in your parent's new town.

[hoeneymilktea]

deciphered ✧ tooru oikawa chapter 1 | downtown tokyo

Your cousin, Hajime Iwaizumi—whom you haven't seen in a long time, invited you to support him at the largest street racing event in Tokyo. He told you he was a part of the Seijoh Brawlers, one of the notorious top five gangs affiliated with the underground street racing scene. Once he introduced you to his leader, Tooru Oikawa, a.k.a. Cypher—your interest piqued, curiously wanting to understand the true meaning behind his alleged nickname.

✧ pairing — tooru oikawa / afab reader ✧ genre — erotica/smut, action romance, crime romance, dark romance (absolutely no dv/sa), psychological thriller, crime/detective mystery ✧ rating — very explicit, 18+ mdni ✧ chapter word count — 17.1k ✧ content warnings — violence, street racing, references to drugs, explicit sexual content, heavy angst. see below break for chapter specific warnings ↴

author's note — This fanfic is inspired by the beautiful and amazing fanart of Street Racer AU Tooru Oikawa. Artist is @aikk00. disclaimer — I do not condone the romanticization of the yakuza or the reality of gang life as I intended not to portray that kind of interpretation, nor promote the activity of illegal street racing. Do not seek out these types of experiences as this work is just a piece of fiction. Please remember to read at your own risk.

downtown tokyo ⇢ cypher's condo ⇢ ramen & racing

✧ chapter specific content warnings: smoking, vaping, references to drugs

“I’d love it if you could come to my race tonight. It’s the largest one in Tokyo.”

You placed your right hand on your heart, clutching the fabric of your shirt while letting out a half sincere mutter of endearment, laughing directly after. The sound of a loud cackle echoed through the phone on the other side as you tilted your head, staring straight into Iwaizumi’s eyes.

“Aw. I’m flattered, Hajime. I’ll support you no matter what, anything for my favorite cousin.” You smiled brightly at him, showing off the front of your teeth with the edges of your mouth curled up; the same smile you always gave him when you both were younger.

He shyly chuckled and grinned through the video call, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. “I’m so excited to finally see you again. It’s been so long since we were kids.”

“Yeah it has,” you replied, placing your phone back on your desk while propping it up behind a water bottle. As you looked back to your laptop, your hand scribbled down another drawing from your organic chemistry lecture slides carelessly onto your notebook.

Iwaizumi’s mother was your father’s older sister, which made you first cousins. The two of you would play and hang out all the time until a disagreement between your aunt and your father made it impossible to see him anymore, completely disconnecting you both for years. Over a decade had passed by since you had last seen him, recognizing he was not the same cousin you once knew during childhood.

He was always into cars ever since he was younger, given your father was a car guy himself—showing off his prized 2006 Mitsubishi Lancer to Iwaizumi, always letting him help fix the car alongside your help. He explained he was studying to be a mechanic at the University of Tokyo, and that street racing was a side hustle that he was a part of to earn some extra cash for tuition.

“So when I get there, where should I go? I’ve never really been to a street race before,” you asked while writing down the last bit of information from your lecture onto your notebook.

Iwaizumi looked up and pondered for a moment before replying, resting the crook of his hand beneath his chin. “You can be my special guest for the race, so you'll be able to stand with the guys in the Brawlers pit. I’ll make sure one of the Seijoh boys can keep you company.”

You weren’t sure what he meant—while squinting your eyes, you made a confused face, showing you weren’t very knowledgeable in his street racing lingo. “Brawlers pit? Seijoh boys?”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that. Don’t tell my mom, but I’ve been initiated into the Seijoh Brawlers. Have you heard of them?” Iwaizumi’s eyes quickly widened as he held his breath, making you skeptical of his intentions.

“No,” you immediately replied, cocking your left eyebrow up. “Are they like the best racers or something?”

“Yeah kind of. The Seijoh Brawlers are part of the top five gangs associated with the street racing scene in Tokyo.” Iwaizumi shamefully explained while looking down from the camera.

You looked up at your phone with an astonished expression, pursing your lips to the side of your face. Scolding him through the phone, you pinched your eyebrows together. “Gangs? Hajime, come on. How’d you get yourself involved in something like that?”

“Please, don’t tell your dad or my mom,” Iwaizumi begged through the phone. “They’re my boys—my ride or dies.”

You smiled at his remark, chuckling under your breath as you glided your pencil along your notebook, the graphite leaving tiny smears on the paper. “I won’t, don’t worry. I haven’t really talked to my dad in a while anyways.”

“I hope so because if I win this race, I get about a million yen in cash. This is a huge deal for me, it could help pay for university.” Iwaizumi placed his phone closer to his face and zoomed in the camera. You could tell how he was excited about tonight as he smiled brightly through the screen, peering straight at your face.

“Oh that’s actually really convenient,” you responded, quite shocked at the amount of money he would be able to win. “That’s basically a semester’s worth of tuition.”

You heard a few voices mumble through the call as Iwaizumi lowered the phone down from his face. Only the bottom of his chin could be seen through the screen as his head nodded in agreement to the voices in the background.

“Oh shit—I’m sorry, I gotta get going. I have to meet with Cypher before the race starts,” Iwaizumi rustled through the phone, facing it towards himself one more time. “Remember, meet me at the race in Downtown Tokyo! Just go to the Brawlers’ pit when you arrive, you should see us wearing white and teal. I’ll see you when I get there, bye!”

Iwaizumi hung up the phone immediately without explaining any further, leaving the microphone cutting off with the beep at the end of the call. You were slightly irritated at him for not giving you any more information than he provided, not sure what to do, except meet him at the race. He only gave vague details—the address of the car meet and the colors of the Seijoh Brawlers, not even any information on what kind of car he drove.

By the time you finished up your chemistry homework, there was about an hour and half left in order to get ready and leave before Iwaizumi’s race had started. You still questioned why he nonchalantly mentioned he was part of a gang, as most members usually do not disclose that kind of information so suddenly. Time really did fly as you acknowledged how much you both had changed since the last time you saw him, now confirming he wasn’t the same cousin you once knew.

It was around the twenty-third hour of the day when you arrived at a packed parking lot filled with people crowding around different types of cars, recognizing a few popular models such as the American-imported Ford Mustang and the Nissan Skyline. Most were customized with large decals of their car clubs, gang names or lewd female anime characters, all surrounded by people dispersed into smaller circles. A lot of them were men, but you were able to spot a few women hanging around the larger crowds as well.

You were not able to find Iwaizumi or the colors of the Seijoh Brawlers he mentioned, aimlessly wandering around the larger crowds, not sure where to walk to. While scanning through the parking lot, you saw groups of men dressed in red, yellow, grey and black—yet you couldn’t manage to find the white and teal colors he had told you to look for.

As you pressed down a green button on your phone, you tried calling Iwaizumi again, yet no answer every time it rang. You blew up his inbox by sending repeated text messages of ‘Where are you?’, ‘What car are you driving?’ and ‘If you don’t respond I’m telling Auntie!’.

You gave up knowing he might have been with the Seijoh Brawlers preparing for “the largest street race in Tokyo”, or at least that’s how Iwaizumi advertised it as. Looking down at your phone as you sent the hundredth text to him, you accidentally bumped into a large figure, almost knocking you down onto your feet.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you apologized as you dusted off the dirt from your black dress. While picking out an outfit, you weren’t sure what people usually wore to a street race. In your closet resided your father’s old denim jacket he used to wear in high school, thinking perhaps you could commemorate his presence.

You looked up at a muscular man in a black tank top and red cargo pants smirking to himself as he took off his black shades. Staring into his hazel eyes, you questioned to yourself why he was wearing sunglasses at night.

“I apologize, shawty.” The man with spiked black hair bent down and reached out to grab your hand. “Whaddup girl, how you doing? The name's DK, who’re you?”

“Um,” you hesitated as you dodged his question, placing your hands inside your oversized denim jacket while firmly looking at him in the eyes despite his intimidating gaze. “I’m just here to see my cousin. He’s part of the Seijoh Brawlers, do you know where they are?”

“Oh, them.” The man scoffed and laughed before he whistled and waved for a woman with long black hair and large gold hoop earrings to come forth. She had a nasty scowl on her face when he called her over, but as soon as she walked up to the both of you, it faded away and changed into a sweet smile when she saw your face.

“Hey baby,” her voice was enticing and smooth, almost like a harmony in your ear. She looked at you with a closed grin on her face and her hands in a red bomber jacket labeled Nekoma Crew across the left side of her chest. “What’s up?”

“Shawty here says her cousin is part of the Seijoh Brawlers.” The man placed his left hand on your back and slightly shoved you toward the woman. “Take her to them, Leia.”

“Whatever you say, DK.” She rolled her eyes and placed her hand on your back as you both began to walk in the opposite direction.

She strolled ahead of you; the label DK on the back of her Nekoma Crew bomber jacket flashed proudly from one side to the other. The woman turned around and looked back with a smile on her face, the fake contact lenses around her irises glistening underneath the passing streetlight.

“Hey, my name’s Leia. What’s yours?” She stopped walking for a moment and placed her right hand out to greet you.

You replied with your first name, grabbing her hand and shaking it firmly. Despite her short and petite stature, Leia exuded a strong sense of confidence and boldness within her posture, wondering to yourself if she was a racer as well. Though noticing the gloves peeking out from her pocket and the scuffs of soot on her knees, you presumed she could have been a mechanic instead.

“Is this your first time attending a street race?” She tilted her head and raised both of her eyebrows, her long black hair slicked over to her left shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m here to support my cousin.” You placed your right hand back into your pocket as Leia took off the red bomber jacket on her shoulders and tied it around her hips. It rested atop her high waisted booty shorts, uncovering her black lacy bralette and a beautiful yakuza-style koi fish tattoo on her left shoulder.

“So your cousin is in the Seijoh Brawlers? Eh, they’re alright,” Leia slowed down a bit to walk alongside you as she crossed her arms and turned her head. She shot you a charming smile and winked accordingly as her straight long black hair flowed over her shoulder, exposing her orange koi fish tattoo yet again. “They’re not as good as the Nekoma Crew, but you know I’m being biased.”

You smiled to yourself, continuing to walk alongside her in a direction you weren’t sure of. The sound of music blasted throughout the parking lot, multiple speakers going off playing different kinds of American hip-hop and rap from all the groups of men dressed in matching bomber jackets. Turning your head to face Leia, you quickly pointed back towards the crowd with your thumb before placing your hand back into your pocket.

“So, who are the best racers here? I thought street racing was an individual thing, so what’s the deal with all these teams?” You looked down at your white shoes gliding along the asphalt before looking back up at her again. The sounds of noisy chatter and car engines revving filled the silence between you and Leia as you both walked past a crowd of men surrounding a vintage American-imported car.

“You want the long answer or the short answer?” Leia slyly asked.

“I guess the long answer,” you replied, looking up at the street lights right above your head. “I don’t really know what’s going on here, I guess you can say I’m clueless. My knowledge in car culture is pretty much limited.”

Leia smiled excitedly and clasped her hands together as she stopped right in front of a pink Honda S2000 and sat on top of it, motioning for you to come and sit on the hood right next to her. You looked at her worryingly before checking the time on your phone, noticing it was thirty minutes before midnight.

“The races don’t start for another half hour. We have time,” She stretched out her arms and yawned as you sat next to her and kept your hands in the pockets of your denim jacket. You looked around the parking lot, noticing more cars starting to roll in through the entrance connecting to the main street.

You were slightly worried about trailing off with a random stranger instead of searching for your cousin, still adamant on looking out for the white and teal colors around the crowds. The underground culture of street racing was familiar to you, yet it never crossed your mind in these recent years because it had been awhile since you’ve worked on a car. The only reason you knew some basic car models and just the bare minimum was from conversations with Iwaizumi and your father.

“Obviously you met DK,” Leia looked up at the street lights above her parked car. In the distance you could see part of the bright Tokyo skyline, the overpass of several highways towering above the large area of the car meet. “His real name is Tetsurou Kuroo. Everyone calls him DK, though.”

You continued to stare at the horizon, the city lights shining brightly against the night sky. “DK? What does that mean?”

“Drift King,” Leia responded with a large smile on her face as she swung her legs back and forth. “All the girls call him Dragon King because of the dragon tattoo on his arm, but if you’re lucky enough to sleep with him you’re able to see the full thing on his back.” Leia hummed as she looked up at the highway overpass, watching cars speed by.

“Drift King?” You pondered while raising an eyebrow, knowing the word sounded familiar, yet not familiar enough for you to remember.

“He’s the best drift racer in all of Tokyo. You know when cars do donuts around in a circle?” Leia swirled her finger in a circular motion to mimic a full revolution. “It’s like that, but cooler.”

You both looked back at Kuroo leaning against the side of his bright red Nissan 350Z, flexing his right bicep while proudly showing off the dragon tattoo across his arm. Another guy with dyed blonde hair tied back into a small bun came up to him, handing a wrench from the toolbelt around his waist.

“That guy right next DK is Kenma Kozume, a.k.a. Snake Eyes.” Leia mentioned, motioning her finger to his direction. “He doesn’t race, but he’s the best mechanic on Nekoma, the absolute mastermind behind DK’s excellent drifting. If your car gets tuned by Snake Eyes, you’re bound to win the race.”

“Nekoma,” you looked towards the label on Kuroo’s bomber jacket that Leia had around her waist. “Is that your car club?”

“Yeah, kind of. We’re part of the top five gangs in all of Tokyo for street racing,” Leia explained with her head leaned back. “The others, not as good as Nekoma, but also in the top five—Seijoh, just like your cousin,” She turned her head to face your body, the ends of her lips curled up against her cheeks. “Fukurodani, Inarizaki and Karasuno as well.”

“Damn,” you exasperated. “That’s a lot of names to remember.”

“I’m sure your cousin can probably help you out on it,” Leia whistled. “Just know their names and color associations and you should be fine.”

You both heard a boom of laughter, followed by the revving of a loud car engine. A grey Mitsubishi Eclipse with yellow rims on the tires passed by Leia’s car as it blasted a song with heavy bass—you recognized it as Drake’s Nonstop.

A man with spiky grey hair sat in the driver’s seat as you both watched him pull over and back into an empty parking space, diligently hopping out of his vehicle. He enthusiastically chuckled with other men dressed in grey around him, the bright yellow font of their nicknames plastered on the back of their bomber jackets.

“That’s Kotarou Bokuto, a.k.a. Blackjack.” Leia mentioned with her head tilted and a smile on her face. “You can hear him and his car from a mile away.”

You looked back over at Bokuto who stood proudly in his grey bomber jacket, talking to another guy in the same one with the words Fukurodani Squad labeled on the front. He immediately slapped the man’s back, another laughter erupting from his mouth as his eyebrows raised up in an enthusiastic nature. They all surrounded silver cars with yellow accents, their side of the parking lot blasting upbeat drum and bass music.

“Bokuto is extremely popular around here and makes an interesting rival for the racers. He doesn’t drift, but somehow always seems to give DK a hard time when they race.” Leia pointed to a man talking to Bokuto with short black hair and blue eyes, a toothpick resting in between the corner of his lips. “Keiji Akaashi, a.k.a. Spades—also an excellent mechanic. Not comparable to Kenma, but always comes up with new tricks for Blackjack’s Eclipse.”

“What about the others? You mentioned Inarizaki and Karasuno, right?” You questioned while placing both of your elbows on top of your knees, slumping your body forward on top of Leia’s car. “Sorry if I keep asking too many questions, I just wanna make sure I’m understanding everything correctly. So far, everyone seems pretty interesting.”

“Oh it’s no problem. I always hate that feeling of never knowing what’s going on, so I’m glad I can help you out. There aren’t that many of us here in a male-dominated subculture, so I always get excited when I see another girl out here enjoying her time, taking an interest.”

She scanned across the parking lot and spotted the corner with a group of men surrounding all-black cars as sleek as the night—looking the most intimidating out of all of the gangs in the car meet. Although all of them had black hoodies and black jeans covering the majority of their bodies, the snake tattoos on all of their necks stood out clear as day. Cigarette smoke and vapor clouds surround their section of the parking lot, making it impossible to see their faces clearly.

“Those guys right there are the Inarizaki Bois. They’re extremely pretentious, but they deserve to be by how amazingly fast they are on the track.” A man with silver hair and black tips rested against a Nissan Silvia S15 with a cigarette in between his lips, chatting with another member.

“Shinsuke Kita, their main racer, a.k.a. Sly Fox. He always starts off at last place, but by the end, easily jumps up to first. He catches up to you within a second, it’s fucking ridiculous.” Leia crossed her arms and stared straight at the two identical twins arguing right next to Kita—one leaning against another black car as the other yelled in his face.

“Those are the Miya Brothers. They have the exact same car, color and model. When they’re both in a race, you can never tell which car is which,” Leia scoffed, obviously annoyed by something. “Atsumu Miya, a.k.a. Thrasher—the blonde one, fucked up my car once during a race. He’s a prick.”

You nodded your head in agreement, giving your pity. “That seems annoying.”

In an instant, Leia swiveled her body towards you with an annoyed face. “It cost thousands to fix my car after that. What a fucking pain.”

A large crowd roared as you noticed a sleek black Lexus LFA with electric blue accents across the body roll up from the entrance of the parking lot, the sound of their engine rumbling low to the ground.  Following behind was an orange Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution, the same model of car your father used to have.

“Oh look here, it’s the Tyrant, Tobio Kageyama of the Karasuno Killers.”

Leia pointed to the driver of the Lexus LFA, watching him give a distasteful scowl to the crowd. His black hair slicked back against his forehead while his dark blue eyes matched the aura of his car. You both watched him roll up to the section of the parking lot dedicated to the Karasuno Killers, noticing all of the members wearing orange, while he wore all black.

“Kageyama’s new to the scene, yet he’s placed first in every single race he’s been in. He overthrew the reigning champion of drift racing in all of Tokyo, actually. Yet, he’s still fairly new, so we call him the Tyrant.”

You looked towards Kageyama again as he let out an exhale of clouds from the vape he took a hit off of, passing the mod to a man with a shaved head. “He’s pretty much an outcast, but he knew that joining a gang had to be the only way for him to get recognition in the underground racing scene. He’s pretty much the main racer on the Karasuno Killers for now.”

“You sure do know a lot about all the racers here.” You turned your head to the left, noticing Leia had aimlessly looked up into the sky. “Are you close with everyone?”

“Mmm, you can say that.” She closed her eyes and continued to lean her head back, placing her left hand against the hood of her car. “I just have connections to a lot of people. DK is beloved by basically everyone here, which also means I’ve gotten to know all the top racers.”

You both jolted up from the boom of several engines roaring near the front entrance of the parking lot as the crowd in front of you cheered. Your eyes followed a line of bright white cars from different companies and models, all with teal accents on the edges of the side skirts.

They all followed a single white Mazda RX-7 Veilside Fortune with black accents and teal stripes on the edge of the windows. Every single car in the queue had their windows tinted dark, making it impossible to see who was driving in any of the vehicles. You assumed by the colors that it was the Seijoh Brawlers, which meant one of the cars belonged to Iwaizumi.

“Ah, just in time. Speaking of the top racers, the Seijoh Brawlers definitely hold some of the best.” Leia propped her feet up onto the hood of her car and rested her chin on her knees, bringing her legs close to her body. “Your cousin should be in that lineup.”

A crowd of people gathered around the Seijoh Brawlers as the drivers backed into their parking spots and stepped out of their vehicles. All of the men had white t-shirts and teal bomber jackets, bright lettering of their nicknames plastered across their backs.

The man that was leading the pack in the Mazda RX-7 Fortune stepped out with his back turned against the crowd, his right hand pulling back his bangs. Instead of a bomber jacket, he wore an open Off-White button down shirt with his sleeves rolled up, the customized moniker Cypher written across the back. The minute he turned around, your interest piqued—although you were across the parking lot, his eyes fixated in the direction of where you and Leia were sitting.

“Tooru Oikawa—a.k.a. Cypher,” Leia mumbled as she continued to rest her chin onto her knees. “Reigning champion of the street races, best in Tokyo. Recently overthrown by the Tyrant.”

Oikawa continued to look in your direction, yet you could not tell where his eyes were fixated on. You saw an expressionless yet intimidating look plaster across his face before he turned around back to the Seijoh Brawlers. “Interesting nickname. Why’s he called Cypher?”

“There’s two meanings,” Leia clarified. “He’s called Cypher because when he drifts, he makes perfect zeros into the road. There is never a moment where his drifts and spins aren’t calculated perfectly. If Kuroo wasn’t already established as the Drift King, Oikawa would definitely claim that title.”

You immediately recognized your cousin the moment he walked out of his white Subaru WRX STI, going up to Oikawa and whispering something into his ear. You stared intently at Iwaizumi, hoping he saw you across the parking lot.

“The other meaning,” Leia continued as she stared directly at Oikawa. “Cypher’s a blank slate. No one knows what kind of person he truly is. Sure, he puts on a front—everyone has to. But under that intimidating act, he’s impossible to crack.”

A Seijoh Brawlers member handed Oikawa his white bomber jacket with Cypher written across the back. In one swift motion, he effortlessly slid both of his arms through the sleeves with a smug look on his face. It appeared that he was the leader of the gang with his contrasting colors and confident demeanor.

“He spent several years leading a faction under a yakuza clan called the Kitagawa Daiichi down south in Osaka. He made some serious money off the kinds of businesses he did, that’s how you know he was able to afford his luxurious custom Veilside RX-7.”

“Oh, so these gangs aren’t just car clubs,” you continued to stare at Oikawa, observing him prop open the hood of his car as he let one of the members of the Seijoh Brawlers inspect underneath. “The yakuza is involved.”

“With anything illegal, the yakuza will always be involved.” Leia pursed her lips, squinting her eyelids. “Even with underground street racing, you can never seem to escape them.”

“What kind of person is he?” You nodded your head and pointed your chin towards Oikawa, swinging your legs off the edge of the car. “Just by first glance, he looks like the kind of person to take up two parking spots.”

You both began to chuckle together as Leia grabbed onto your arm, leaning in to rest her head on your shoulder. With her eyes closed and a large smile on her face, she let out a loud high pitched wheeze—for which you could not resist laughing along to as well.

“You know what, I really like you. You’re pretty funny.” She took in a long deep breath before staring back towards the Seijoh Brawlers, looking back straight in the direction of Oikawa.

“But honestly, it beats me. Cypher’s pretty much your run-of-the-mill bad boy, if you also include he’s the top racer in the underground street racing scene. But unfortunately, no one—including me, knows a thing about him, only his business. No one can decipher the great Cypher.”

You noticed Iwaizumi talking to him, noting back when he mentioned having to meet with a guy named Cypher before the race. After the information Leia had disclosed about Oikawa, you couldn’t help but speculate about how Iwaizumi was able to involve himself with a guy like him. You crossed your legs on top of Leia’s S2000 while peering straight at your cousin, still hoping he was able to notice you.

“The guy talking to Cypher,” you pointed towards Iwaizumi peering underneath the hood of Oikawa’s car. “That’s my cousin.”

Leia whipped around the hood of her car and got extremely close to your face; the shocked expression in her eyes revealing it all. “Indigo is your cousin?!”

“Fucking—who?”

“Hajime Iwaizumi, he’s your cousin?” Leia reiterated, switching back to formalities.

You backed away just enough to put some distance between you and Leia. “Yeah, is he a big deal around here?”

“He’s pretty much the entire package,” Leia explained. “An amazing mechanic and a pretty fucking good racer. Girls would kill to sleep with your cousin.” She winked her left eye at you, obviously swooned by Iwaizumi’s underground street racing reputation.

“Ugh, I don’t want to hear about that.” You crinkled your nose with a scowl on your face, disgusted by Leia’s remark. All she did was shoot you another playful smile in return, tapping her fingers along the hood of her car. “I didn’t know he was pretty popular around here.”

“You should probably go see him before his race starts, let him know you’re here.” Leia stretched out her arms up in the air before placing her feet back onto the ground, grabbing your hand right after. “Here, I’ll take you to them.”

You hopped off the hood of her Honda S2000 and fixed your dress before placing your hands inside the pockets of your denim jacket again. As you walked alongside her in the direction of the Seijoh Brawlers, you held in your breath, trying your best to slow down your rapid heart rate. In a few moments, it would be the first time you and Iwaizumi had seen each other in over a decade.

As you approached their section of the parking lot, almost all of the members of the Seijoh Brawlers noticed you two immediately, eyeing you both up and down with skeptical looks on their faces. Iwaizumi and Oikawa didn’t take notice, yet one man with spiked black hair almost in the shape of a mohawk approached in your direction, shaking his arms in a crossed motion.

“Sorry ladies, we’re busy preparing for the race.” The man suddenly grabbed Leia’s arm, almost pulling her away from you.

“Fuck off, Kindaichi.” Leia swatted his arm away from her body, causing him to retract back. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again, onionhead. Anyways, this is Indigo’s cousin. She’s supposed to be here.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa looked back at the mention of your cousin’s nickname, observing his eyes widening as his face gleamed in joy. He dropped whatever he was working on and rushed to greet you, leaving Oikawa behind.

“You made it!” Iwaizumi’s muscular figure swallowed you into a giant hug, his arms squeezing behind your back. You were so glad to see your favorite cousin again after a decade, and this moment made it seem entirely worth it. Here you were, now both adults, hugging and celebrating just like when you both were kids.

When you opened your eyes again, you noticed Leia walking away, swinging her keys along a single fingertip as her work boots clicked against the asphalt. Without looking back, she lifted up her left hand and waved goodbye.

Iwaizumi gave you one last tight hug before retracting back. You noticed how the ends of his smile lifted up his cheeks high to the point where it overshadowed his eyes, almost completely mirroring the one he used to give when you last saw him. No matter what his reputation was in the underground street racing scene, you would never see him other than his childish and loving self.

“Here, let me introduce you to Cypher. He’s pretty chill.” Iwaizumi put his hand on your shoulder as he began to walk over in the direction of Oikawa, who already turned his head to look at you both. His intimidating expression stared straight into your eyes, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“Cypher, this is my cousin. She’s the one I was telling you about.” Oikawa smirked and nodded his head, acknowledging your presence. In front of him, the hood of his Mazda RX-7 Fortune was propped up against its support strut as he prepared his car for one of the races. His hands were placed firmly against the edge of his front bumper, holding up most of his upper body by both of his arms.

“Hey.” You raised your hand to wave as you stated your name, quickly shaking your palm with a soft smile on your lips. “Nice to meet you.”

The smug look on his face transformed into an intimidating and malicious stare, assuming like he was trying to read right through your front. He looked up and down your figure with his right eyebrow raised and a pouty lip, scanning every inch of your body.

“You got a pretty cousin, Indy.” Oikawa shut the hood of his car and placed his left hand inside the pockets of his black jeans, turning his body towards the both of you. A chuckle escaped under his breath as he ran the fingers of his other hand through his bangs, pulling back the wispy strands of hair against his head. “She’s basically perfect like you said, a total fucking cutie in my eyes.”

“Bro, shut the fuck up.” Iwaizumi retorted through his teeth with an irritated tone as he attempted to slap Oikawa’s arm, causing him to slightly jolt back in order to escape. “Don’t hit on my cousin right in front of me ever again.”

You lowered your eyelids and buried your hands deeper into the pockets of your father’s oversized denim jacket, looking away from Oikawa’s gaze. The ends of his mouth curled up into his cheeks before he chuckled to himself in a playful manner, shaking off his complacent demeanor—yet, you couldn’t tell if he was being sincere.

“Relax, Indy. I was just stating the truth.” Oikawa began to walk towards your direction, sliding right next to Iwaizumi in order to teasingly slap his back hard, insinuating a reaction from the both of you.

“Uh, okay. Whatever, Cypher.” Iwaizumi spat as Oikawa laughed quietly, bringing up a fist to his lips to silence himself. In a matter of seconds, you observed him quickly sneak up behind you, placing his right hand on your shoulder.

You turned around and backed up for a minute, startled by his sudden approach. Instinctively, you swatted his hand away from the top of your shoulder without saying a word. An uncomfortable expression grew on your face as you stared at him in irritation, the corners of your mouth slightly turned down.

“Woah,” Oikawa offered you his hand to shake. “I apologize if I came off too rude, let me introduce myself properly.”

You took notice of a similar yakuza-style dragon tattoo across his right arm, the tail extending to the inside of his wrist. An ominous grin formed on his face as you fixed your eyes towards the head of the dragon placed on the right side of his neck, observing its mouth wrapped all the way around his nape. Assuming it was related to his affiliation down in Osaka, you raised one eyebrow up in curiosity.

“The name’s Tooru Oikawa. Everyone here calls me Cypher, but you can call me anytime.”

“You’re such a menace to society.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

You crinkled your nose and hesitantly shook his hand, noticing the grip on his handshake was gentle and light. His hand was surprisingly faint and nimble, something you didn’t expect from someone who frequently worked on cars. Though, his fingers were quite long comparative to the size of your hand, watching his palm completely swallow over yours. Oikawa’s brown hair looked soft as it curled so easily at the ends, sticking up behind his head like he had just rolled out of bed.

Yet, it was his brown eyes that caught your complete attention—his pupils enlarged as he stared straight into yours, absolutely hypnotizing you into a trance. Although you wanted to deny it at the moment, you couldn’t help but admit he was extremely attractive. You weren’t sure if it was the tattoos, the upfront cocky attitude, or the hard-to-crack demeanor, but something about him intrigued your interest.

“You don’t have to be scared of me, I won’t bite.” Oikawa reassured as he dropped his hand back into the pockets of his jeans, tilting his head to the right before shooting you a wink. “Unless you want me to.”

You were all interrupted by the sound of several car engines revving, hearing someone in the distance exclaim the second race was about to begin and the racers should line up at the base of the road above the parking lot. Iwaizumi slapped Oikawa’s back, causing him to jump up.

“I gotta move, Cypher. Take her up to the spectator platform and keep her company, yeah?” Iwaizumi patted your shoulder gave you a kind smile before turning his head back to Oikawa. “Don’t try any shit, or I’ll break your neck. Got it?”

“Loud and clear, Indigo. I quite like my neck, so I won’t try anything that isn’t up to her decision.” Oikawa grinned from ear to ear as he turned his head to face you, both of his hands resting inside the front pockets of his black jeans.

Iwaizumi gave him a thumbs up before rushing inside his white Subaru WRX STI, upstarting the ignition before revving the engine, watching the car rumble beneath asphalt. Right after he rolled down both of his windows, he waved goodbye to the both of you as he joined the other four racers from the rivaling gangs at the starting lineup near the entrance of the parking lot.

“Let’s get going, the second race is about to start.” Oikawa delicately patted his right hand on your shoulder before placing it back into his pocket, weary of not making you uncomfortable anymore.

You both walked up to his Mazda RX-7, noticing a large white decal labeled Veilside above on his windshield. The car itself was positioned low to the ground to counter the effects of inertia, the bumpers and side skirts almost touching the asphalt. The entire body of the car was white, except for the black accents on the side of his car doors.

He guided you to the passenger’s side, wrapping his fingers around the handle before swinging it open, gesturing for you to enter. When you ducked your head and peered in, the interior of his car was entirely black, the crisp scent from the inside dissipating out into the fresh air of the parking lot.

Oikawa leaned his body on the side of the door with a smile on his face, patiently waiting. “You should get in.”

You gulped down a dry swallow before entering the passenger seat of his car, feeling your whole body sink to the floor with the seat positioned low. While stretching out your legs, you looked down at your shoes and noticed your legs shake from the cold outside gust of air.

Oikawa shut the door and walked to the front of his car, staring intently as he made his way over to the driver’s side. You inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh scent of the interior—as expected, it smelled pristine and well taken care of, something you expected no less from a car guy.

He opened the driver’s side door and swung his body in by holding onto the roof with his right hand, shutting it quickly before placing his keys into the ignition. The car roared underneath you, feeling the low rumble of the engine vibrate throughout the whole body. Oikawa looked over with a sly smirk, his eyelids half open before placing his left hand on the gearstick before swiftly shifting the car into reverse.

Oikawa’s Mazda RX-7 Veilside Fortune rumbled as he backed out of his parking space, the transmission moving as he shifted from first into second gear. He rolled out of the car meet, letting his headlights shine brightly through the crowd that made space for him to pass through as he drove straight up the ramp leading to the freeway above the parking lot.

A swarm of people gathered around five cars at the starting line—Iwaizumi being one of them, directly in the middle. Oikawa parked his car on the platform above the crowd where you were able to get a glimpse of all the racers. You noticed that you both were alone on the platform the minute he turned off the engine, only the silence between you two and the echoes of the cars in the distance could be heard.

He took the keys out of the ignition and stayed in place, a small exhale releasing through his nose as he leaned back in his seat. While not moving a muscle, you kept your eyes fixed on Iwaizumi’s car—intently watching the smoke trail out of his exhaust, hoping it could distract you from the awkward tension between you and Oikawa.

“Do I make you nervous?” He nonchalantly asked in a deep tone, breaking the silence.

You look over to Oikawa’s right hand on top of the steering wheel, his upper body facing entirely towards your direction. When he rested his left hand behind your seat and forced a smile, you could instantly tell it had a malicious intent behind it.

“Not really,” you choked while slightly turning your head, only for him to peer his eyes deeper into your gaze. “Just what I’ve heard about you makes me curious.”

Oikawa shifted his position and crossed his arms, noticing his interest had piqued while leaning on his car door, facing your direction. “Oh? What have you heard?”

“That no one knows who you really are,” you stared back into his eyes, noticing a slight glimmer in his brown irises. Other cars, all from the Seijoh Brawlers, drove past him and parked close alongside the RX-7. Their passing headlights shone on Oikawa’s figure, his thin gold chain brightly reflected against the illumination.

He hummed nonchalantly before pulling out an e-cigarette out of his pocket, taking in a large puff off the small black bar. When he opened his mouth, a trail of white vapor escaped his lips—only for him to inhale it back in through his nose, fully exhaling the remaining vapor clouds out through his teeth. He offered you the e-cigarette after he took another hit, placing the bar in between his fingers.

“I also heard you spent some time down south in Osaka.” You accepted his offer and took the e-cigarette in between your hands, inspecting the metal before politely changing your mind and handing it back to him. “How long were you there?”

“Hmm, about six years,” he responded before taking one final hit off the e-cigarette, twirling it in between his fingers. The whole car smelled sweet from the vapor—sharp top notes of warm vanilla and sugar, possibly like caramel. “I ran important business down there. Nothing else, really.”

You watched the smoke escape his lips as he talked, the wisps of vapor delicately brushing up against the roof of his car before he leaned back in his seat, resting his left hand behind his head. Oikawa closed his eyes and rolled down the windows, letting the dense air from inside the car escape out into the night. You took in a fresh breath of air as the roar of several engines echoed in the background, only for the smell of his rotary engine and gasoline to cloud your nose.

“You’re in university, right? Biochemistry major?” Oikawa placed the e-cigarette in between his fingers back into his pocket before peering at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Wait, how’d you know that?” You snapped, pinching your eyebrows close together while shifting your body to the right.

“Relax, I’m just trying to spark up a conversation. Iwaizumi told me a lot about you over the past several months and I just so happened to retain all that information.” Oikawa chuckled as he closed his eyes and rested his elbow on the middle console in between you two.

“Obsessed, much?” You stuck out your bottom lip and peered back at him with your right eyebrow raised. Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. “That’s a little creepy, knowing someone’s life so extensively without ever meeting them.”

He chuckled along with you, turning his head to face the front of his car. “Well, it’s not my fault. I only know so much because your cousin wouldn’t shut up about you for months. Every single day for weeks on end, something new about you and your life always had to come up during work hours at our shop.”

You snickered under your breath, remembering the thought of Iwaizumi constantly rambling on about anything he deemed exciting at the moment. The minute your father taught him how to change a tire, for weeks he couldn’t stop describing the steps over and over again every time you guys played together. “Yeah, that’s Hajime for you. He always has something to say, it’s been like that since we were kids.”

“I practically know everything about you at this point,” Oikawa turned his head to the left, staring straight into your eyes. “Even your most embarrassing moments as a kid.”

“What? Nah, I don’t believe you.” You crossed your legs and your arms while still peering at Oikawa with a smile, shaking your head. “You’re bluffing.”

“Quiz me then.” He shifted his body towards you and rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, his left elbow still on the middle console. When he tilted his head over to the right, he shot you a facetious grin with his eyes hooded down. “I’m sure I can get everything right.”

You accepted his challenge and began listing a few basic questions about yourself, ranging from your favorite color to your childhood nickname. Oikawa got everything correct, rapidly answering each question with ease. He brushed it off like it was nothing, purposefully wanting you to increase the intensity of the questions.

Starting to become annoyed, you decided to give him questions about yourself that Iwaizumi didn’t know, just to prove him wrong out of spite. You asked him at what age did you start a particular hobby—which only to you, was entirely false because you never started that particular hobby in the first place. Yet, to your surprise, Oikawa was able to detect it was a trick question.

Your jaw instantly dropped as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, watching his eyes looking up and down your body as he smiled without moving a muscle. “How did you know I was lying?”

“You just don’t seem like the kind of person to do that sort of thing.”

You reflected back on his assumption, questioning to yourself if you really were the kind of the person to do that particular hobby. Would you have been that kind of person if you did? Although you had previously decided you definitely weren’t, after hearing his input, you started to wonder if others perceived you the way you assumptively perceived others.

For a brief moment, there was silence between you two. As you were contemplating on his remark, Oikawa reclined back in his seat and stared down at the car meet, scanning through the parking lot. You noticed he relaxed the bold grin on his face, now alleviated into a mundane yet serene expression.

“You know, Iwaizumi also told me you were into cars. I think that’s pretty cool, a lot of girls here aren’t actually that interested in what’s underneath the hood.” Oikawa mentioned while tucking his chin close to his body, his right hand resting atop his steering wheel.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m really not.” You corrected, looking away from Oikawa towards the passenger window down at the parking lot. “I just used to spend a lot of time with Hajime and my dad fixing his car, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

“I did.” Oikawa casually responded with a cheeky smile as he looked down at the middle console, slightly shaking the gearshift in a bored manner.

“You probably think I’m not that cool anymore now that you know the truth, huh?” You stated in a humorous yet deprecating tone, looking down at your feet as you kept your hands inside your denim jacket, balling both of them into fists to warm up your fingers.

“Nah, it’s fine. I still think you’re pretty interesting either way.” Oikawa tilted his head slightly to face you, showing off the front of his teeth as a grin formed on his lips.

Down near the front, you noticed Leia carry a red flag, waving it clear in the air to initiate the start of the second race. The minute the countdown reached to the last digit, the sound of the wheels screeching against the asphalt could be heard from miles away as all five cars sped off into the distance. From what you remembered, the racers had to circle back around the track, reaching a total of ten kilometers around Downtown Tokyo—first place receiving one million yen in cash.

“Looks like Iwaizumi’s race just started. It shouldn’t take too long.” Oikawa observed the crowd cheering down below as he placed his hands behind his neck, reclining back into his seat once again. You also looked down at the swarm of people—still lively and filled with energy, even when none of the racers were in sight.

You took your hand out from the pocket of your denim jacket and pointed in the general direction towards the car meet, grabbing the attention of Oikawa. While lazily shaking your finger, you mentioned Leia, who was talking to Kuroo in the middle of the parking lot. “That woman down there, Leia from the Nekoma Crew.”

Oikawa shifted his eyes to his windshield, staring straight down at Leia conversing with Kuroo, Kenma and a tall man with grey hair. “Yeah, what about her?”

“She was actually the one who told me that you spent some time down in Osaka.” You placed your hand back into your pocket, relaxing your body back into the passenger seat of his car. 

Lights from around the highways and streets blinded your vision and illuminated onto Oikawa’s body, the small gold chain around his neck shining brighter than ever before. “Well, that’s no secret. Everyone knows that about me.”

“But she also told me you used to be the leader of a yakuza clan, and that you’re pretty much a blank slate, stating that no one can decipher the great Cypher , or something along that line. Would you say that’s true about yourself?”

Oikawa turned his head to the left, peering at you with a dead stare. Though within seconds, the right side of his mouth curled up into his cheek before his eyes squinted until you could only see his pupils. “Well, that’s for you to find out.”

You cocked an eyebrow up before pursing your lips shut, genuinely confused on what he meant. “What do you mean?”

“Never rely on other peoples’ perception of me. Only you can determine that for yourself.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, resting his right hand up on the top of his steering wheel. You noticed how articulated he was in his speech, something you assumed was because of his past and present leadership positions. Despite being aware of the rumors around his reputation, you were quite intrigued by Oikawa. He exuded complete confidence over himself and his abilities, and knowing yourself, you knew exactly how to play his game.

“So let me get to know you then,” you proposed, lifting your head up to face him. “You already know everything about me.”

“What would you like to know?” A familiar smirk reappeared on his lips again as he shifted his body in your direction, resting his elbow down on the middle console.

You looked up and tapped your chin with your left index finger, pretending to ponder on his question. “I wanna know everything about you.”

Oikawa chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat as he closed his eyes. “Good luck. I don’t open up to just anybody.”

“Well, I’ll convince you that I’m not just anybody.” While you shifted your body towards him and gazed straight into his brown eyes, you watched his pupils dilate the minute you placed your right elbow onto the middle console, resting your cheek against your hand with a grin on your face. “I’m confident that I’ll get you to crack.”

Oikawa leaned in, also placing his left elbow on the armrest in between you two. His right eyebrow raised substantially as another complacent smile formed on his face, making it obvious to you that he was captivated by your bold proposition. “Oh really?”

You nodded, confident in your abilities. “Really.”

Oikawa leaned back in his seat, a soft laughter erupting from under his breath as he stepped on the clutch pedal and placed his keys into the ignition, starting the car. You felt the engine rumble underneath your feet, feeling the vibrations of the cyclic gears before Oikawa began to release his foot off the clutch.

“We should meet your cousin at the finish line. He’d be happy to see you once he wins.” Oikawa pressed down on the accelerator, moving the car forward through the spectator platform before descending down the ramp into the street where the rest of the crowd resided.

“How do you know he’ll win?” You asked while Oikawa quickly backed into a parking space rear in, several meters away from other people.

“Trust me,” Oikawa reassured before turning his head to the left, shooting a cocky grin at you. He shifted the stick into first gear before pulling up the emergency brake, parking the car in place. “He’ll win.”

He turned off the engine, placed his keys into his front pocket and unbuckled his seatbelt, swinging the car door open in the process. You followed his actions and unbuckled yours, yet Oikawa grabbed your right wrist before you could retract the seatbelt back into place.

You turned your head, only to see him give you a soft smile. “Please, stay. Let me.”

Oikawa let go of your wrist and exited out of the right side, shutting the car door behind him. With long strides, he walked over to your side and opened the door for you, allowing for your legs to swing out and touch the ground. Reaching for your hand, Oikawa helped you up and closed the door behind you, reaching back into his pocket to grab his keys in order to lock his car.

The RX-7 Fortune beeped twice before he slid his keys in his back pocket and placed his left hand inside the front. Your hands remained linked, the tips of his cold fingers gently holding onto yours, just barely touching your palm as he led you straight towards the street where the finish line was.

He began to pull you towards the crowd as you squeezed his fingers, acknowledging his presence. You thought it wasn’t necessary for him to hold your hand, yet he cradled your fingers so gently—almost like he was scared to hurt you. While placing your right hand in your jacket pocket, you trailed behind Oikawa as you both pushed through the large crowd.

The roars of the engines could be heard from a distance as Iwaizumi’s white Subaru WRX showed up first, followed by a black Toyota Supra and an orange Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution. Iwaizumi’s car drifted in a half moon revolution, his tires squealing against the road before rolling up to the finish line. As a large mob of people gathered around, he instantly hopped out with a victorious smile on his face—greetings with handshakes and congratulatory high-fives surrounded him as the announcer boomed across the crowd.

“Winner of the second race—in the WRX, Hajime Iwaizumi, Indigo of the Seijoh Brawlers! Second place in the Supra—Rintarou Suna, Engima of the Inarizaki Bois! Third place, in the Evo—Ryunosuke Tanaka, Cueball of the Karasuno Killers!”

The cash handler walked up to him and slapped one million yen in Iwaizumi’s hands, congratulating him with a firm handshake. In an instant, he spotted you and Oikawa from afar, ignoring all the congratulatory greetings from several people in the crowd before jogging up. His face instantly brightened the minute he saw you behind Oikawa, waving excitedly as he approached you both.

“You could work a little more on your exit spin,” Oikawa scolded, folding his arms across his chest with a pout on his face. Iwaizumi frowned for a second before Oikawa laughed and leaned in, clasping Iwaizumi’s right hand before slapping his back with the other. “Otherwise, great job honoring the Seijoh name.”

After their hug, Iwaizumi reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of cash containing ten million yen before handing it to Oikawa. He began to count the prize money, swiping his thumb against the tip of his tongue before portioning out his cut. Twenty percent went to the Seijoh Tune Shop while the other eighty went straight into Iwaizumi’s pockets. Though, it didn’t seem he was too stingy about it as he kept the same confident smile on his face the entire time.

When he placed the wad of cash back into his pocket and Oikawa shoved the twenty percent portion into his, you glanced at Iwaizumi, opening up your arms to give him the biggest hug. Once again, his arms swallowed you into a giant embrace, tucking your head into the crook of his shoulder.

“I knew you could do it!” You exclaimed while you both started to jump up and down in excitement, swinging each other back and forth as energetic laughter filled up the lively atmosphere. “You did so well, congratulations!”

“I’m so glad you came to support me,” Iwaizumi mumbled over your shoulder as you both began to calm down from celebrating, the tight hug between you both now subsiding. “I really missed you.”

Once you both retracted from the hug, he put his hands in his pockets and faced Oikawa with a grin on his face from ear to ear, his teeth peeking out from his lips. He tilted his head to the side, letting out a light chuckle.

“Thanks for keeping her company. I owe you a big one.” Iwaizumi reached out and shook Oikawa’s hand again, staring straight into his pupils before placing his arm back at his side.

“Well, there is one thing I had in mind.” Oikawa took his left hand out of his pocket, cradling his chin between his pointer finger and thumb. From what you could see, a tattoo of a small dagger rested on his index with a matching cross on his middle—on his ring finger, a small crescent moon.

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “What is it?”

“I’d like her to be the passenger in my race.” Oikawa requested with an eyebrow raised and the left corner of his mouth curled up, exposing a little bit of his teeth.

Your eyes widened as you crossed your arms, dropping your jaw in shock, unable to speak your opinion. A million thoughts ruminated throughout your mind, not sure where to start as you hesitantly looked towards Iwaizumi for his answer.

“Yeah sure, fine by me.” He agreed, shrugging his shoulders before placing both of his hands on his hips.

“Wait, wait. Hold on,” you slid your body in between the both of them, interfering with their conversation. While giving Iwaizumi a glare and visibly expressing your disturbance, you shook your head in disappointment. “Nah, you can’t be fucking serious, really?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Iwaizumi placed his right hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down. “You’ll get to see a street race up close. Plus, it’s fun to be in the RX-7 when Cypher drifts.”

“Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t want to distract him, also I barely even know the guy.”

“If she doesn’t want to, that’s fine.” Oikawa interrupted, placing both of his hands back into the pockets of his jeans. He shrugged his shoulders up, a sly smile plastered on his face. “I don’t want to force you to do anything, but I thought you wanted to get to know me more.”

The announcer boomed again, reminding the participants for the final race to line up soon. You remembered Iwaizumi mentioning that the third race was designed for the best of the best to compete with each other—usually having the gangs nominate their fastest racers. A few moments ago, Leia pointed out the best in the top five gangs, for whom you supposed were going to be the ones to race, including Oikawa.

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. You should totally do it.” Iwaizumi encouraged while patting your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Don’t worry, I trust Cypher a lot. I would never recommend it if I thought he’d put you in danger.”

While reflecting on his words, you always remembered how fun it was to be in the passenger seat of your dad’s car whenever he raced down a mountain with Iwaizumi in the backseat. It brought back a sense of comfort as you recalled him always speeding down a long stretch of road whenever he could, a moment where all three of you could bond. For a second, the memory eased up your tension and you wondered if being the passenger for Oikawa would bring back that same nostalgic feeling again.

“Well if you say it like that, sure, I’ll be his passenger. I trust your judgement.” You turned around to face Oikawa with your arms still folded over your chest, a smile resting on your lips before releasing a soft and playful chuckle. “Just don’t kill me, would’ya?”

A tender smile rested upon his lips, reassuring that whenever you were with him, you would be safe. “I would never.”

In the distance, one last call boomed throughout the crowd, reminding the everyone that the final race would begin in a couple of minutes. Oikawa looked down and gently grabbed your hand, slightly squeezing your palm with a soothing look on his face.

“Well then, let’s get going. I got a race to win.”

He began to pull you through the crowd and back to his car, speeding up the long strides he took as he maneuvered through several bodies. You looked back over your shoulder, quickly glancing at Iwaizumi—recognizing the same wide grin he always gave back then, waving his arm goodbye as he disappeared into the sea of people.

Oikawa reached into his back pocket and pulled out his keys, quickly unlocking the RX-7 while opening the passenger side door for you. His chivalrous actions didn’t go unnoticed as you whispered a quick ‘thank you’ before hopping into his vehicle. You buckled your seatbelt as he shut the door and made his way over onto the other side, nonchalantly hopping into the driver’s seat.

Oikawa quickly pressed down on the clutch before placing his keys into the engine, turning on the car as he rolled down the windows on both sides. You could smell the gasoline and exhaust smoke again as the cold air seeped into the vehicle—the sound of engines roaring and the crowd cheering vibrantly filling up your ears while the entire car rumbled beneath your feet.

As he released the emergency brake down, Oikawa  took his foot off the clutch, letting the car slowly move forward. His headlights flashed onto the crowd that made space for him to enter the street, people on both sides of his car staring at the two of you in awe. As you looked up into the rearview mirror, he instantly relaxed his eyes, a small smirk slowly creeping upon his lips.

The crowd for the third race became twice as large as the second, noticing the sudden increase in attendance for the best racers. Oikawa rolled up to the starting line and revved his engine loudly, provoking the red Nissan 350Z to his right. You leaned your head forward to see no other than DK himself in it, taking off his black sunglasses and resting his arm on top of the steering wheel, showing off his elaborate dragon tattoo.

A familiar face popped out right next to him, immediately recognizing it was Leia in the passenger seat. She waved her left hand out the window, yelling in excitement.

“Hey bitch! Fancy seeing you here!” She screamed over the loudness of the engines.

“Hey!” You yelled as you waved back at her, shoving your right hand in front of Oikawa’s face.

“What are you doing in Cypher’s ride?!” Leia screamed again, leaning out of the car as she cupped her mouth with her hands, amplifying her voice.

You leaned closer to Oikawa’s window, also cupping your mouth. “It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later!”

“Well, you’re totally gonna owe me ramen later when DK wins!” She taunted as Kuroo revved his engine twice, provoking Oikawa in the process.

“We’ll see about that!” You gave Leia a wink, for which she returned one back before ducking her head back into Kuroo’s car. Oikawa revved his engine multiple times as he grabbed the wad of cash from his pocket and flashed it out the window, teasing Kuroo.

“You see this, DK? That prize money’s gonna be all mine, you hear me? All mine!” He shouted out the window as he stuck out his tongue, showing off the bright silver piercing situated near the apex. While shaking the money in his hands violently at Kuroo, Oikawa signaled a playful taunt towards his pride. His intimidating assertion frightened you slightly because before, he kept a calm and collected demeanor throughout the entire time you were talking with him.

You looked over your left shoulder only to see the Tyrant himself, Karasuno Killers’ Tobio Kageyama. He stared at you with his dark blueberry eyes and a scowl on his face, revving his engine twice in order to taunt Oikawa. Further left past him was Shinsuke Kita from the Inarizaki Bois and Kotarou Bokuto from the Fukurodani Squad.

Turning your head back to the right, you noticed Oikawa glaring malevolently at Kageyama, a sense of rage deep within his pupils. He pointed at him with an infuriated expression on his face, his left hand directly in front of your eyes. “Watch out, Tyrant—I’m gonna fucking smoke you.”

Oikawa slapped both of his hands on the wheel and curled his fingers around the top, revving the engine as loudly as he could. You looked up into the rearview mirror and saw the back window completely covered in white exhaust smoke before quickly glancing at Oikawa’s face flushed with determination and confidence. For the first time, you felt frightened to be next to him.

A new flagger appeared in front—a woman wearing orange with black hair and glasses, slowly counting down the numbers from five. As soon as she said ‘three’, Oikawa revved his engine so loudly that you couldn’t hear her count down to the last digit anymore. You glanced at Leia who was already wearing her own pair of black sunglasses, resting her left arm on the side of the 350Z while showing off her koi fish tattoo. While quickly holding onto the grab-handle above the ceiling, you rested your arm on the edge of the window, gulping down a dry swallow.

The woman waved the orange flag down, screaming “GO!” at the top of her lungs. Within the speed of a second, Oikawa stomped on the accelerator causing the car to jerk forward, speeding down the road as the tires squealed against the asphalt. The gust of wind shrieked loud in your ears while the engines from every car overwhelmed the noise of the busy highways nearby.

Every car was neck and neck—you couldn’t tell who was leading as the rankings fluctuated between all the racers. Oikawa shifted the car into fifth gear and stepped on the accelerator, the sound of his engine growing louder in your ears as he increased his speed. On the right side, Kuroo did the same thing; rev-matching to the same gear as you could hear his car pushing forward.

Within a second, Kageyama’s black Lexus LFA zoomed to your left with sparks flying out of his exhaust, passing all of the cars behind him. He glanced over at you and Oikawa with a scowl on his face and his nose crinkled up, tightening his grip on the wheel. You immediately turned your head right to look at Oikawa who kept his eyes on the road, clicking his tongue with a slight shake of his head.

“Too soon to use nitrous, Tyrant.” Oikawa patronized, smiling to himself as Kageyama pushed forward, leading the race. He clicked his tongue against his teeth again and swerved the entire car to the left, drifting on the corner between two streets. You scrambled to grab onto something, accidentally gripping onto Oikawa’s forearm on the gearshift. He didn’t flinch and continued to drift the corner, acting as he didn’t feel you grab his arm.

Kageyama led first in the race, followed by Oikawa right on his tail. You looked back and saw Kuroo and Leia directly behind, the entire back window blocked by the headlights of his Nissan 350Z. With your hand still gripped onto his forearm, you felt Oikawa shift the gear stick back down to fourth before he blipped his foot on the throttle.

Everything was happening so fast as it was hard for you to comprehend anything that was going on, your head spinning in multiple directions every time you felt the inertia hit your body. Sooner or later, Kuroo’s vehicle zoomed up right next to your side, the sound of the engine echoing into the tunnel all the racers entered. Oikawa growled and stepped on the accelerator, swerving to the right and turning a sharp corner in order to drift away from the 350Z.

The drift was heavy when you felt the entire car shift to the left,  hearing the tires squeal loudly in your ears while your body ricocheted in the same direction. You clutched onto the seat belt around the front of your body as Kuroo’s 350Z sped past Oikawa, hearing a maniacal laughter echo from their window with sparks flying out of his exhaust.

“Son of a bitch,” Oikawa cursed to himself, hitting the top of his steering wheel as he grunted, his rank now dropping down to third place.

He shifted up to fifth gear and pulled the emergency brake, swerving the car all the way to the left again as he maneuvered through other cars on the road, finally exiting out of the tunnel. The rear of his RX-7 drifted to the right, feeling every organ in your body shift with it. You clutched the grab-handle as tightly as you could with your left hand when Oikawa stepped on the accelerator and focused his attention to the road ahead—it stretched a far distance without any turns, which was a huge advantage at the given moment of the race.

“If you’re gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks.”

Oikawa revved his engine and sped up to 150km/h, flipping a small switch underneath his thumb on the wheel. You felt your stomach drop as the car pushed forward, the rumble of his engine vibrating beneath your feet. Sparks flew in the rearview mirror while Oikawa’s speedometer read 195km/h, finally passing both Kuroo and Kageyama, leaving them both behind in the dust.

“Suck my dick, bitch!” Oikawa shouted as he looked back at them while sticking his arm out the window, pumping his fist victoriously into the air.

You looked over your right shoulder and saw the four other racers in the distance, the headlights of their cars diminishing until you could no longer see the glisten in the night. Oikawa glanced in your direction with a smug expression on his face, chuckling to himself as he sped down the road.

“Holy shit,” you exclaimed in shock, unable to say anything else. You peered out the window and saw the bright Tokyo skyline, all the colorful neon lights flashing on the hood of his car as Oikawa quickly swerved in between cars and trucks traveling on the road. The air breezed through his brown locks pulling back along his head, the edges of his white button up shirt fluttering with the wind.

For a while, his car cruised at a steady 130km/h, no worries of the other racers catching up. You placed your hand on the window, the cold touch of the glass forming a fog around the silhouette of your fingers. The Tokyo rainbow bridge lit up in the distance, the colors reflecting on the calm waters down below. Hearing the sputter of his engine once again, Oikawa pressed his foot on the accelerator and increased his speed.

“Watch this.” He pulled the emergency brake up and turned the steering wheel all the way to the right, pushing down on the gas pedal with a staggered motion. He shifted the gear stick up to fifth again as the car drifted across a tight round turn on the road. At that moment, you glanced at Oikawa—a smile from one ear to the other grew on his face, showing his teeth as a cheer erupted from his mouth. Only pure happiness resided in his eyes, a shine in his teeth reflecting from the street lights.

Within the moment, it almost felt like your heart stopped beating when he glanced back, giving you a soft and genuine smile. You didn’t necessarily believe in love at first sight, but if you could describe how it might have felt, this exact moment would have been your answer. The term ‘butterflies in your stomach’ couldn’t come close to describing the way you were somehow feeling about Oikawa.

An epiphany came to your mind; as you watched him enjoy the one thing he loved doing while catching a glimpse of what kind of person he was in the moment—that was when you realized you were attracted to him, both physically and mentally. The first time you saw Oikawa, you wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but you thought he was a beautiful man with a beautiful face—though, you didn’t expect him to have a beautiful soul as well.

You weren’t sure how, but just by observing the way he talked to you, the way he treated you and the way Iwaizumi entrusted him to watch over you—it was obvious he was much more than the kind of person people perceived him out to be. There was no way to describe your attraction to him other than there seemed to be a glass wall Oikawa had purposefully surrounded himself with in order for you to peer in and observe, to seek out what truly remained inside.

Oikawa revved the engine again and increased his speed back up to 160km/h reaching the end of the race, seeing the finish line in the distance. While looking up in the rearview mirror, you noticed Oikawa smile to himself as he pressed down on the throttle, the engine roaring once again.

Within a second, one of the racers instantly approached right behind Oikawa, their headlights dimmed low in the rearview mirror. You couldn’t tell who it was at first, but the minute they swerved right up next to Oikawa’s drivers side, you instantly recognized it was Shinsuke Kita from the Inarizaki Bois in his Nissan Silvia S15. He glanced at Oikawa with his eyebrows raised, taking the lit cigarette out of his mouth and placing it in between his two fingers, waving his hand slightly while he sped up and took first place.

“Fucking bitch,” Oikawa growled as he pushed down on the clutch and shifted the gear back up to fifth again to increase his speed, earning a little bit of room above Kita.

You looked to your left and saw Kuroo’s 350Z pulling up on the passenger side, noticing the black sunglasses on Kuroo’s face slide down his nose, enough for his eyes to peer up at you. He gave a smug look, resting his right arm on the top of the steering wheel. In the passenger seat, Leia could be seen dancing along to the loud song booming on their stereo, swinging her hips side to side with her arms up in the air as Kuroo gained leverage above both Oikawa and Kita.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Oikawa gritted his teeth while tightening his grip around the steering wheel, stomping down on the accelerator once again to gain speed. In an instant, he leveled with both Kuroo and Kita, now making it impossible to tell who was in first place.

The finish line approached quickly as you saw a large crowd of people gathered around the end of the street, their loud cheers mixing in with the echoes of the busy traffic in the distance. Oikawa pushed past over 180km/h again, determined to win the race as he stepped on the accelerator harder, causing the transmission to vibrate loudly again. Another roar came from his engine as he gained leverage, pulling himself ahead of the others.

You saw Kuroo and Kita drag behind as Oikawa pushed through the finish line, placing first in the race. He pulled up in the middle of the crowd and drifted around in a circle—his special exit spin. He made a perfect donut with tread marks on the asphalt, connecting the lines in a 360 degree motion. The rear wheels drifted for three more revolutions before Oikawa finally stopped in place, feeling the jolt of the brake.

Grabbing your seatbelt, you felt quite dizzy when your vision began to blur, just barely making out the large crowd gathering around Oikawa’s car. You breathed in the smoke from his exhaust as it clouded around his car, seeping inside past the open windows. Voices from all around filled your hearing, the sound of congratulatory greetings and squeals of excitement ringing through your ears.

Kuroo and Leia rushed in next as they placed second, Kita coming in right after, placed third—all finishing within a second of each other. You saw Kageyama arrive a few seconds later, pulling up slowly in his Lexus LFA with an irritated expression on his face and a tight grip on his wheel.

Bokuto rolled up in last place with the side of his car wrecked, smoke coming out of the hood and the front bumper holding on by a screw. You winced at the condition of his car, knowing it would cost a fortune to get that all fixed.

Oikawa parked his car and jumped out of the vehicle only to be greeted by the people of the crowd, congratulating him for winning the final race. Women tried to surround him, but he ultimately ignored their advances and rushed to the other side, swinging your car door open. Even in the midst of winning the largest race in Tokyo surrounded by beautiful women, Oikawa still fulfilled his chivalrous duties to you.

As you stepped out of the vehicle, Oikawa held your hand gently and pulled you up from the seat, closing the door behind you. He stared into your eyes with a smile on his face before impulsively embracing you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist as his hands brushed up against the top of your back. Instinctively, you hugged back, wrapping your own arms around his body as you felt his face bury in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa immediately tried to pull away, realizing he might have crossed a boundary—yet you pulled him back in, not wanting him to let go of your warm embrace. You lifted your head up to look at him, noticing his pupils dilate when he stared down at your lips, his right hand placed just at the crook of your back.

He looked straight into your eyes as he placed his left hand on your face, gently stroking your cheek as he breathed out a soft sigh. With a tender smile on your lips, you placed your left hand on his jaw, pulling his face in for a kiss.

Oikawa was startled by your sudden movements, but soon found himself wrapping his arms around your body, bringing you closer to him than ever before. You flung your right arm around his neck and ran your hand through the back of his hair, feeling each strand of his locks brush against your fingertips.

Your entire body shifted closer as he pulled you in to deepen the kiss, slightly opening his mouth to take a quick breath. With your left hand still on the side of his face, you trailed the fingers on your right hand down his back, slightly turning your head to the side in order to let his tongue swipe alongside the bottom of your lip.

You weren’t the type to kiss strangers within an hour of meeting them, but with Oikawa—you hated to admit it, but it felt absolutely different with him. Somehow, his kiss felt like medicine, healing a growing ache within your body as you began to kiss him passionately, moving your lips in sync with his.

Oikawa pulled away and broke the kiss, slightly gasping for air before cupping your face with both of his hands, all while staring into your eyes. He connected the tip of his forehead with yours, fluttering his eyes shut before whispering against your lips.

“My prize.”

He completely removed both his hands off of your body, diligently placing them into the front pocket of his black jeans. A bit embarrassed, you turned around to see Leia and Kuroo stepping out of the Nissan 350Z, waving their hands in your direction. She walked up to you quickly with her arms out, not insinuating an embrace.

“Okay, now I see why you were in Cypher’s car,” Leia smirked as she placed her left hand inside DK’s Nekoma Crew bomber jacket around her body. “Ya know, you’re kinda bad. He doesn’t let just any girl ride with him during a race. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever done that before.”

You looked over your shoulder back at Oikawa as he nodded, confirming Leia’s statement. He looked down at you with a smug look on his face and his eyebrows raised while he took his right hand out of his pocket to touch your denim jacket, slightly pulling your back against his chest. You weren’t sure what had happened in the last minute, but all you knew was that the tension between you two grew rapidly, the kiss confirming that you both were into each other.

In the distance you saw the same guy with a man-bun talking to Kuroo earlier, Kenma Kozume, pushing through the large crowd. He had his hands in the front pockets of his red cargo pants and a black skin tight tank top, presuming it was the signature uniform of the Nekoma Crew. His yellow toolbelt hung loosely around his hips as he walked up to you and Oikawa with a bundle of cash rolled up in his hand.

“Snake Eyes,” Oikawa greeted with a slight nod as he approached the both of you.

“Fair and square, Cypher.” Kenma slapped the large wad of cash rolled up by a rubber band onto Oikawa’s hand. “Two million yen.”

Just as Oikawa placed the cash in his pocket, Kuroo’s walkie talkie went off. As everyone around the parking lot paused, you looked towards Leia as her eyes widened with a worried expression on her face. For a second there was a beep on the machine, then a stressed eerie-sounding noise wailed through the static.

“Cops, cops, cops!” A deep voice on Kuroo’s walkie talkie went off. “COPS HEADED OUR WAY!”

There wasn’t any hesitation when it came to law enforcement as the crowd panicked and rushed to their vehicles, making it hard for any driver to get out of the parking lot safely. Kuroo grabbed Leia’s hand as they both rushed inside his 350Z, Kenma closely following behind as he shoved himself into the backseat of the two-seater car.

“Looks like I’ll have to buy you ramen another time!” Leia yelled back at you before she hopped into the 350Z, shutting the passenger side door behind her. Kuroo sped off into the night right after, straight into the highway as his engine echoed throughout the air.

Oikawa grabbed your hand and quickly opened the passenger door of his car, motioning for you to get in. Once your body sank low into the seat again, he shut the door, jumping onto the front of his car while swiftly gliding across the hood, opening the driver’s side all in one fluid motion. The second he hopped in, Oikawa quickly stomped on the clutch and started the engine, switching on the headlights while revving the car, speeding off into the same direction as Kuroo.

With people still running in multiple directions throughout the parking lot, it was difficult for anyone to get out safely onto the main road. The highway near the car meet became flooded with vehicles packed end to end, bumper to bumper—causing Oikawa to take a shortcut between two factory buildings, speeding down a tight alleyway. He quickly pressed down on the clutch again, rapidly switching from third to fourth gear with his left hand, accelerating the speed of his car as the engine boomed.

You looked over to your right and saw a tensed expression on his face with his eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip pouted, focusing on the road ahead of him. He kept his left hand on the gear stick and his right hand on the steering wheel, quickly downshifting from fourth to third gear, blipping the throttle with the tip of his foot before slowing down.

Once he placed the emergency brake up, he drifted a tight corner between the two buildings, entering a small street perpendicular to the main highway packed with most of the people from the car meet. You held onto the grab handle above your head, clutching it tightly while you felt your entire body swerve to the left, noticing Oikawa’s body ricocheted in his seat as well with the turn of the drift.

Once he was able to steady the direction of the car, he stepped on the clutch and shifted the car back up to fourth and then fifth gear sequentially—hitting the gas pedal hard as he sped down the small road, catching the attention of the pedestrians walking on the side. In the rearview mirror, you saw police lights flash brightly coming in your direction, not noticing them on your tails before as the roar of his engine drowned out the sound of the sirens.

Oikawa’s eyes shifted up to look at the rearview mirror, pinching the edges of his eyebrows closer together as he became more infuriated. Another scowl plastered on his face, tensing his entire body up while stepping on the gas pedal harder. On his speedometer, you saw him pushing past 150km/h—not as fast as in the race, but fast enough to escape the police trailing behind you. Focusing on the road ahead of him while turning corners and speeding down adjacent roads, Oikawa remained silent the whole time the police chased after you two.

Your mind felt dizzy; unable to comprehend how he was able to stay so focused and calm with the sirens blaring in his ears. Thinking to yourself if you were in his place, you would have immediately panicked, not knowing what to do in the moment. While racing through different theories and conclusions, you remembered that Oikawa was a criminal—this probably wasn’t the first time he had been hunted by law enforcement.

Despite being in a chase, you looked outside of the window to see the city skyline shine brightly in the night, the neon colors scattered throughout the horizon. You reflected back on your actions during the past hour, wondering how you were able to end up in the passenger seat of a car during a street race, now chased by law enforcement on the streets of Tokyo. Yet, in the back of your mind you would not have wanted to do anything else—or even with anyone else.

You gripped the grab handle on the roof of the car with your left hand and grasped the middle of your seatbelt with the other, your body trembling as the red lights from the police flashed in the side mirrors. Oikawa chucked the steering wheel to the left and instantly pulled the emergency brake up, only to release it down when the car drifted to the corner of the street. As your body rocked from side to side in your seat, you inhaled sharply through your nose while feeling the adrenaline rush straight to your head.

Despite the intensity of the predicament you both were in, you felt Oikawa gently place his hand on your leg, benevolently caressing the exposed skin on your inner right thigh. He turned to look at you, smiling with confidence in his abilities. The sound of his sultry voice made your heart beat faster despite his attempt to calm you down.

“Hey,” Oikawa reassured. “Don’t worry, I’ll get us out of here.”

The minute his car exited the main street, Oikawa immediately turned left into another, revving his engine quietly at the apex of the corner. Oikawa began to slow down his speed the further he drove down the road, completely stopping the car while shifting the gear into reverse. Tucked between two buildings, Oikawa backed the car into a smaller alleyway, tucking his arm behind your seat as he positioned his upper body to face you, turning his head to look back.

With his right hand on the steering wheel, Oikawa effortlessly backed up into the alleyway, securing a large space tucked into the alley. He quickly turned off the engine and dimmed his headlights, making sure to cautiously hide his entire vehicle from the police as you both waited in silence, not a single peep coming from your mouth.

You swore you could hear the police sirens approaching in the distance, feeling your heart beating straight out of your chest like it was ready to burst any second. Oikawa on the other hand, placed his right hand on the steering wheel and watched the exit closely, his body calm and relaxed in his seat. Two police vehicles sped past the alleyway, completely unaware of the RX-7 hiding in the darkness.

You let out a heavy sigh of relief and closed your eyes, feeling the rush of  blood to your head subside with the sound of your heart pumping throughout your body filling your ears. Leaning your head back into the headrest, you inhaled deeply in order to calm down the nerves creeping underneath your skin.

“They’re gone now.” Oikawa stated as he placed his keys back into the ignition to start the engine again. The car rumbled beneath your feet as he released the clutch, letting the car slowly roll out of the alleyway.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Oikawa turned the car in the opposite direction from the police.

“I can take you back to your place if you want.” Oikawa’s voice became monotonous, not a single expression resting on his face. “Or we can go back to my condo, whichever one. I can stay with you for the night if you’d like.”

While turning your head to the left, you brought your face close to the window as your breath condensed on the glass, spotting the Rainbow Bridge in the distance from earlier. You somehow recognized the place you were in as the Minato ward, just a little south from Downtown Tokyo. “Where’s your condo?”

“It’s in the Shibuya district, not too far from here. I just took the other way in order to lead the police in the wrong direction, you know, to avoid any suspicion.” Oikawa peered his head to the left and then to the right, checking to see if there was any traffic before advancing forward, shifting the transmission from third to fourth gear.

You looked back out to the left, observing the street you both were driving on—in the distance, several highways stretched far into downtown, multiple buildings standing tall into the sky. The night was calm, just barely seeing the stars up in the violet atmosphere.

Turning your head back to the right, you looked at Oikawa with your answer. “Well, we can go back to your place then. Mine’s a little far from where we are.”

“You sure? I don’t mind the drive.” With his left hand, he signaled to turn right, his indicators blinking against the road signs.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

You knew exactly what you were doing, asking for him to drive you both back to his condo—it was painfully obvious to him, yet it seemed like your advances didn’t stop Oikawa from entering the expressway that led back up to Shibuya. He relaxed his eyelids a bit, accelerating his speed through the bridge with the Tokyo skyline spanning throughout the view.

You placed your hand into your denim jacket pocket and pulled out your phone, glancing up to check the clock as it read 1:37 AM. Time seemed to pass by quickly, remembering that you were just doing your chemistry homework in your apartment yesterday evening. Now, as you were on your way to Oikawa’s condo—you couldn’t help but notice everything was happening way too fast and way too easily, knowing exactly what was to come in a matter of a few hours.

You suddenly remembered about Iwaizumi, questioning to yourself if he might have been worried of your whereabouts. Just to give him a peace of mind, you scrolled through your contacts and tapped on his name before placing your phone up to your ear. As you heard the dial-tone ring three times, within a second he picked up, the roar of an engine greeting you through the speaker.

“Hello?” Iwaizumi croaked before clearing his throat, hearing him shuffle something on the other side. He called your name out, making sure you were still there. “Where are you? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’m safe. I’m actually still with Cypher,” you lowered the volume of your voice slightly as you stared out the window. “We’re going back to his condo.”

“His condo?! I didn’t say he could bring you back to his place.” Iwaizumi scolded, his voice growing a bit annoyed. You could sense the same protectiveness he’s always had for you, even when you both were young.

“Hajime, relax, it was my decision.” You turned your head to face Oikawa, watching the corner of his mouth slightly turn up.

“Nah, I still want to talk to him. Give him the phone.” Iwaizumi commanded, reluctant to accept the fact you were an adult, able to make decisions for yourself.

“He’s driving. I can’t just—” Oikawa brought out his left hand, insinuating for you to give him your phone while he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion. You placed it face up onto his palm before he cleared his throat, bringing it up close to his ear.

“Iwaizumi.” Oikawa greeted with a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. You could hear the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice booming through your phone, yelling in all sorts of directions out of the speaker. All Oikawa did was chuckle to himself, taking in all the insults and threats from your cousin with a grain of salt.

“You know it was her decision, right? I didn’t force her to do anything,” he responded into the phone, restating what you had already told Iwaizumi. “Okay, fine. I’ll take her back.”

“What? No.” You reached out for your phone again, asking for it back. “What did he say?”

“He said he wants me to take you back to your apartment or else he’s going to break my neck, or something.” Oikawa scoffed and chuckled to himself before placing his left hand back on the gearstick, downshifting to third gear in order to slow down with the traffic.

You both still heard Iwaizumi scold Oikawa through the phone, his voice now growing deep and exasperated, noticing he started to sound like a broken record with the constant insults. “Shittykawa, I will personally drive over to your fucking condo and beat the living hell out of you and your shitty ass car!”

“Shut up Hajime, you’re being rude now.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back into your seat, letting out a large sigh. He continued to yell into the speaker as you cupped your hand over the microphone, turning your head to whisper. “Let’s just lie and say you’re taking me back to my place.”

Oikawa let out a loud chuckle to himself as he rested his left elbow on the middle console, turning his head over to shoot you a cheeky grin. “I like the way you think.”

You smiled back before placing your phone up to your ear again, hearing Iwaizumi continue to lecture you on why you shouldn’t go back to Oikawa’s condo for completely irrational and absurd reasons. “Okay Hajime. He’s taking me back to my apartment right now.”

“About damn time. Look, I’m about to arrive at this one girl’s place, so I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” Iwaizumi’s tone quickly shifted, confusing you on what he had just mentioned.

“What the fuck—?”

“Love you!” He quickly exclaimed before hanging up, your phone now displaying your background screensaver. With your eyebrows pinched and your lips pouted, a bewildered look formed on your face as you squinted down at your phone again.

“…Love you too, Hajime.”

You reclined back into your seat, slumping your shoulders slightly as you placed your phone back into your pocket, tucking both of your hands inside as well. Oikawa continued to drive down the expressway, acting as if the call with Iwaizumi didn’t happen.

During most of the car ride, you both sat in silence—listening to the rumble of the engine and the rotation of the tires, other traffic filling up your ears as you leaned your elbow on the open window. Staring straight up at the tall buildings with the wind in your face, you felt the cool breeze through your cheeks while resting your head on your palm.

You still didn’t know much about Oikawa, only what Leia had told you about him. Though, by what you had directly experienced, it didn’t seem like he lived up to his reputation at all—the way Leia had described his past, his façade and his notoriety, it didn’t fit his character. Yet, this was just your first impression of him; he could have been a completely different person underneath what he was showing you now.

He still intrigued your interest, making it a challenge for yourself to know what was really underneath the mask he was hiding behind. You turned your head to face him again, looking directly at the prominent dragon tattoo on his right forearm, only seeing what could be shown with his sleeves rolled. Oikawa quickly noticed you and glanced over to your side, cocking his eyebrow up.

“Got something to say?” He broke the silence, turning his attention back to the road.

You removed your head from your palm, shoving both of your hands inside the pockets of your oversized denim jacket. The wind from outside seeped into the car, brushing through your skin once again. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, proceeding to ask him a blunt question. “Yeah, I do. How’d you convince Hajime to join your gang?”

You raised an eyebrow again, turning your head to face him. In the back of your mind, you still wondered how Iwaizumi was able to involve himself with someone who had previously been associated with the yakuza—you’ve known him to always be the kind of person to “follow the rules” ever since he was younger. It seemed out of place for him, presuming he might have been persuaded in terms of money or future promises in exchange to be initiated in.

“He came into my shop looking for parts.” Oikawa responded hesitantly, his eyes still focused on the road. “And I didn’t convince your cousin at all. He wanted to join all on his own.”

There was a long pause in between your question and his answer, raising your suspicion on the reliability of his statement. Iwaizumi was never the type of person to willingly join a group of people as he was more of a person to do things on his own, at least when it was anything related to cars. You remembered that the only other person he would willingly let fix his car alongside your help was no other than your father. “Hmm… okay, but I don’t really believe you.”

“Well look at it this way—your cousin, all throughout his life, has been into cars. Fixing them, racing them. He probably mentioned before that he’d want a career out of it too. Sound familiar?” There was a brief moment of silence between you two as you didn’t respond to his rhetoric. Oikawa looked towards your direction one last time, raising an eyebrow in the process. “Now wouldn’t it make sense he would want to join a gang that does all those things, while also being guaranteed a job at my shop?”

Although all of his reasons were logically sound, you still weren’t fully convinced; you wanted to know the details, you wanted to fully understand. Perhaps that was your problem—you always wanted to know exactly the reason why. “Yeah, I guess that does sound believable or whatever.”

“Well, baby you can believe whatever you want to believe.” You turned your head and looked out the window again, fixing your vision to stare at yourself through the mirror. The clouds began to creep in, blocking out the moon up in the sky. “So, if what you’re telling me is true, that’s exactly how Hajime got into street racing?”

“Correct.”

Turning your neck to face him, you asked him another question, watching him turn the wheel to the right with one hand. “Can I ask how did you get into street racing?”

Oikawa quickly whipped his head to the left, leaning his body over to check the traffic coming in from the opposite direction. His pupils quickly glanced at you, his eyelids relaxed without an expression on his face. Before turning his wheel completely over, he cleared his throat and mumbled softly. “Through DK. You met him, right?”

You recalled the man you had bumped into earlier, remembering if you hadn’t, Leia would not have told you about Oikawa’s reputation. “Yeah, I did. Have you always known him?”

“I actually met DK when I first moved back to Tokyo two years ago.” He turned the steering wheel to the left and signaled to change lanes, slowing down the car. “He was already established as Drift King of the underground street racing scene—in fact, he was the one who got me into cars and racing as a sport up here.”

He exited down the highway ramp and into a busy district on the outskirts of Downtown Tokyo. The neon lights of several businesses reflected on the hood of his car as you passed through a road filled with lively people walking on the side. Despite the time almost reaching 2 AM, the streets of the urban Tokyo neighborhood still boomed with vibrant energy.

“You weren’t already a racer back in Osaka? You’re pretty much a natural at drifting.” You peered your head out the window, looking up into the tall buildings with purple, blue and red neon lights as it reflected back on Oikawa’s car.

He smiled in the corner of his mouth, letting out a sharp exhale. “Thanks, but no I wasn’t. I did other things.”

“What, like selling drugs?” You joked, slightly chuckling to yourself as you placed your hands back into your pockets, gripping your right hand around your phone. 

“Yeah, exactly.”

The yakuza was notorious for doing those kinds of businesses, yet you thought he could have done something else in place of it, like running gambling rings or clubs—that was what you remembered most yakuza members did nowadays when the largest yakuza clan in all of Japan banned their men from dealing in drug trafficking.

Your eyes widened as you fixed your posture, turning your head back to face him. Silence filled the car once again, your mouth slightly parted open as you stared at Oikawa. The tattoos on his arm stood out against the lights as your eyes fixed on his left hand—remembering the dagger on his index, the cross on his middle. The small crescent moon situated on his ring finger, the ink completely filled in. 

“Oh, you were being serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Oikawa responded in a monotonous voice, barely turning his head to look at you as he rev-matched down to second gear, slowly turning into an underground parking garage situated beneath a tall building.

“So you’re basically a criminal.” You assumed as the car descended down a series of ramps, the rumble of his engine echoing louder than before. He looked at you with an alluring gaze, one you could not describe how it made you feel.

“Always have been, baby.”

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[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Family Reunion

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning(s): none!

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It was the first time I was taking Trevor home to meet the entirety of my family. So many people in one place. Rambunctious, loud, intimidating people.

Trevor would fit right in.

I knew that, but he wouldn’t listen. No matter how many times I told him, he never believed he would be fine.

We had to fly to the city nearest to my hometown. After bidding goodbye to his lizard and leaving the poor thing with his roommate. He begged to bring Drago at first, but I insisted it wasn’t happening. My father was not a fan of animals in his home. Anything other than a dog would not pass. I knew my mother would wrinkle her nose at the sight of a lizard too.

There were certain family members I was worried about Trevor meeting. One side of my family tended to be a little more judgmental than the other side. One side was full of fun and insanity. The other side was.. well they were fun too, but sometimes new people could throw off the dynamic.

I worried Trevor would do just that, but I also told myself it was a simple Fourth of July party. Nothing to fret over. A few days we would be home, and then we’d go back to Anaheim.

I got him started on the hour drive from the airport to my childhood home, thankful that my parents wouldn’t be there to see him as soon as we got there.

We utilized the time alone. I let Trevor roam around the house, and eventually I led him up to my old bedroom. He was concerned by the sight of a twin sized bed, but I told him we’d make do with the space we had.

He asked about all of my tiny trinkets and decorations, getting to know a part of my life he was never fully immersed in. Then my parents came home and we spent the evening in the living room. Catching up, telling stories, and laughing the night away.

By the morning, Trevor was up well before me. Not early by any means, but we’d been up late, so sleeping in felt necessary.

He shook me awake around ten a.m., and we laid together for close to an hour before we slipped out of bed to get ready.

“Do you think this is overkill?” I stepped out of my closet to peek at Trevor. His blue polo was matched with a pair of white shorts. He didn’t have any red on. Nothing looked too overdone or extra. His hair looked a little poofy, but I’d blame that on the shower he took before bed, and all the moving he does when he sleeps.

“Trevor, you look fine.” I assured before I stepped back into the closet. I gave my own outfit one last look before I stepped out to slip on my shoes. I was met with the sight of a very unconvinced looking boyfriend, and I let out a sigh the second I noticed his tension.

He looked great, honestly. A piece of me wanted to stay home and celebrate the Fourth of July in another way with him. His skin was such a pretty golden color, and his cheeks were slightly pink from the beginnings of a sunburn he got back in Anaheim. I reached out to grab one of his forearms while my other hand traced the tattoo he had on the opposite arm. Nike, a beautiful statue and a meaningful symbol in his life.

“My family is going to love you. Just be yourself, yeah? Maybe don’t curse as much.. but other than that, be yourself.” I teased softly. Trevor was slow to nod before a smile made its way to his lips.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting your whole family.”

I couldn’t believe it either. I couldn’t believe it up until the moment we were pulling into my grandmother’s driveway, parking off to the side, and climbing out of the car. Then my body was buzzing with electricity. I could already hear everybody inside. We were early, so it was only immediate family there.

I walked Trevor through the garage and into the foyer. My heart was beating a mile per minute. I’m sure his was too. His hand squeezed my own as the conversation slowed. I kicked my shoes off just in time to see my baby cousin come flying out from the living room.

The little guy shouted my name in excitement before he looked back at his parents to see if they heard him.

Soon my whole family was rushing into the foyer to greet.

“Holy shit.” Trevor mumbled as he stepped up behind me, his body pressed into my back.

The hugs and endless, “how are you’s” eventually died down enough for me to introduce Trevor. The moment of truth.

“This was that plus one I was telling you guys about.”

“I’m Trevor. It’s nice to meet you guys.”

He was accepted into the family almost immediately. After he was introduced and got to know my family, he blended. He was regarded as just another visitor after more people began to arrive. I lost him after a while, only to hear him in the kitchen where my grandmother was asking him to help her carry things out to the fire pit.

Nothing meant more to me than knowing Trevor got along with my grandmother, who was usually high strung and easy to stress out.

As more people came around, the party moved outside. Kids ran about while family caught up. Everybody made their rounds meeting Trevor. He communicated well with people, that I knew, since the day we met. But he communicated even better with my family.

“He’s real sweet, you know that?”

I looked away from him to see my grandmother peering down at me with a proud smile.

“Works hard too.” She added.

“Yeah.. I love him a lot.”

“I can tell just by the way he looks at you, that he loves you too.” She pointed a finger at me. “I was so worried when you left for California. I don’t really know what I was worried about now. I should have known you’d be bringing somebody home.“

“Thanks.. that means a lot.”

When I looked back, Trevor was gone. I heard a squeal from behind me, and when I turned in my lawn chair, I caught sight of Trevor playing wiffle ball with the kids. His shoes and socks were gone, kicked off to the side with a bunch of other tiny pairs. I couldn’t help but giggle at how he played with them. Chirping and smack talking, chasing them down and laughing all the while. That awkward breathy giggle laugh that was so contagious it had me chuckling in my seat.

Trevor and I agreed we weren’t ready for kids, but when we were.. I knew he would be a great dad.

I set my drink down and stood up, walking across the yard. I kicked my own shoes off and slipped my socks away.

“Can I join? Or is the game strictly for kids?” I called, and caught the attention of all the little eyes. As well as the big pair in the midst of all the fun.

“You have to be on the opposite team.” Trevor responded, heaving for air.

“You bat!” The little girl at home plate called. “Trevor throws too fast.” I walked over as she slipped the bat into my hand and ran off to the side, giggling excitedly.

“Are you playing unfair?” I asked accusingly. One didn’t have to be athletic to play wiffle ball. Hand eye coordination was all it took. And I’d been playing this since I was as old as the toddler standing on second base with his older brother.

“Me? No!” Trevor and I both assumed our stances as he responded. “But I’m not taking it easy on you.”

“Same here, Zegras.”

He pitched. I swung. The ball went flying. We weren’t far from the house, and I felt accomplished the second I heard the plastic ball whistle through the air and hit the wood siding of the old home. Trevor took off after it, I thought it funny to prance around the bases. Until I spotted Trevor running full speed ahead at me while I was in between third and home plate. One rule in family wiffle-ball. A rule as old as time. No home runs. If it was possible to get tagged out, you were going to get chased down.

“Trevor, no!” I screamed as laughter immediately fell from my lips. I picked up the speed, as did he.

He reached for me just as my feet touched home plate, one of them getting caught beneath it and managing to fall forward.

Trevor grabbed ahold of me, but he went down too.

I heard my team shouting in victory, and the rest of my family laughing and shouting as well, but I was too busy laughing along with Trevor. Our legs covered in grass stains, as were our elbows. Trevor carefully touched the ball to my side.

“You’re out.” He spoke.

“I am not! I crossed home plate!” I gave him a shove, and soon I felt a pair of tiny knees digging into my back, and a child drape herself right over my side. Another kid joined, and I groaned as he climbed on top of me as well.

“Man pile!” I heard a little boy yell, and I gasped when he jumped on top of Trevor.

Soon there was a whole lot of us laying in the grass and laughing. Trevor tried to push a few kids off, but they only returned. We accepted our fates until parents came by to help us out, pulling their kids aside and giving us some space.

“I definitely scored,” I mumbled as I pulled away from Trevor.

“Did not.” He reached out to brush the grass from my knees, ever the gentleman despite our argument.

“Did so!” I countered, soon feeling the tickle of his fingers against my sides. I broke into a fit of laughter.

“I won, fair and square!” Trevor pulled an old dandelion from the ground around us, shaking it in my face. I grimaced and tried to wipe the fuzzy seeds away.

“Damnit Trevor, quit that.” I groaned softly with a smile.

No wonder he got along with the kids so well.

I finally slipped away from him and stood up, brushing myself off while Trevor made a show of the ‘pain’ in his joints while he stood up. I rolled my eyes at him.

I heard a few kids shouting about s’mores when one of the adults brought the marshmallows out.

“Are we making s’mores too?” When I looked back at Trevor, his eyes were wide with excitement.

“Obviously, T. Though I’m not sure you need any more sugar.” I turned around, hearing him huff and feeling his hand slip into mine as I guided him back toward the fire. Kids were already gathered around the table, and I giggled before I slipped away from Trevor to make my way over.

“You guys have to be careful with all these pointy sticks, okay?” I instructed as I grabbed one of the bags of marshmallows and opened them. “Everyone tell me how many they want.”

It was a hot mess trying to figure out which kid yelled which number, but soon Trevor was at my side, helping me with the little ones.

“Be careful, and don’t run!” I called to the last child as he left to find his mother. I glanced up at Trevor before grabbing a one of the metal skewers.

“We have to send a picture to Jamie. He’ll be so jealous.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at how excited Trevor looked. The way his eyebrows moved with his mouth, and his eyes squinted when he was excited.

“Give me a marshmallow, Zegras.” I chided. He pulled two from his half empty bag and slipped them onto the stick. “I said one.”

“You won’t make one for me?” He pouted.

“Ugh.. god Z, you’re so needy.” I whipped my body around in a sluggish manner, whining playfully over his own pout. Trevor chuckled at me before his arms wrapped around my body.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He mumbled with a giggle. “I’m gonna put the rest of our stuff on a plate, then I’ll come find you.”

“Grab peanut butter cups!”

When he joined the rest of my family around the fire, we found ourselves seated in the grass. Trevor sat next to me while I roasted our marshmallows, the plate of Graham crackers and chocolate in his lap.

The kids quickly began to gather around us, plopping down left and right, mostly around Trevor, but a few with me as well.

“Trevor look what I have!” A kid held out her messy marshmallow. Her face was covered in evidence of the other three she ate before.

“I’m about to have one too.” Trevor giggled. “I’ll tell you guys how it tastes.”

“Oh auntie makes them the best!” Another little boy called. He practically lunged into Trevor’s lap, settling himself in the space where his legs were folded criss-crossed. I giggled at the surprise on Trevor‘s face.

When I looked back at the marshmallows, I realized they were beginning to melt off the skewer.

“Trev! Crackers!”

The kid seated in Trevor’s lap leaned back against his chest while Trevor helped me make the s’mores. I leaned the skewer up against the fire ring after, and we clinked our snacks before I allowed Trevor to take the first bite.

The look of pure bliss on his face was enough to boost my ego for a lifetime.

“Wow.” He spoke through a full mouth.

“That’s why I suggest the peanut butter cups instead of normal chocolate.” I quipped before I took a bite out of my own s’more.

“I want a bite!” The boy reached for Trevor’s snack, and I giggled when my boyfriend pulled it out of the kid’s reach.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll make you one.” I stretched an arm out to ruffle his hair. “Kelsey, can you go grab me another marshmallow?” I asked a little girl to my left. She smiled and quickly got up to go find the bag. I leaned into Trevor’s side while I waited.

The little boy in his lap aimlessly played with Trevor’s shoe strings, before looking up at the hockey player with a blank stare. Trevor was busy finishing the last bite of his s’more before he made eye contact with the kid.

“Hunter?” The little boy’s head perked up at the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Gotta go.” He mumbled as he climbed out of Trevor’s lap, with a bit of assistance.

“Bye, Buddy.” Trevor offered him a fist bump before the kid ran off to find his mother.

I stared my lover down with an incredulous smirk. When Trevor looked back at me, his brow rose quickly.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just love how good you are with kids. And my family.”

“Really?” He looked surprised. “God I was afraid they’d hate me.”

I laughed softly, wrapping an arm around his back. “They could never hate you. You’re the first guy I’ve dated who’s actually treated me nice.”

“Oh don’t tell me that.. that makes me sad.” One of his hands came down to rest on my thigh. I brought my free hand to rest on top of his.

“You’d have to kill me or burn my apartment down before they hated you.” I joked, earning a small laugh from him.

“I don’t think I’ll end up doing either of those things.”

“Eh who knows? You might manage to cause a small kitchen fire one day.”

“Hey!” He gently pushed me, and I giggled at his offense.

Our conversation settled into silence before I looked back up at him.

“How many kids do you want?”

“Huh?”

“Kids.. Trev. Do you want kids?”

I watched him contemplate my question.

“A few? Maybe like.. three? I grew up with two siblings. I feel like three kids balances out a house well. Ya know?”

I didn’t quite understand his logic, but if Trevor wanted three kids, I figured I could go along with that.

“What about two and a dog?” I suggested playfully.

“Oh, a dog like Louie?”

“Yeah, we can get a dog like Louie. I was thinking maybe something a little more protective though. A Great Dane?”

“What if it eats our kids?” Trevor’s question caused a quiet fit of laughter to fall from my lips.

“They’re very gentle dogs. Just territorial with strangers and intruders.” I explained.

“Well that’s what we have Jamie for.” Now we were both laughing.

“I’m not having three kids and Jamie.”

Trevor playfully gasped. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

“He’ll get over it.” I gently squeezed his hand.

“He’s gotta be the uncle to our kids. He’d better get over it.”

“What about Griffin?”

“Eh. Jamie’s closer.” I rolled my eyes and giggled softly, leaning back into Trevor’s side.

“I’m gonna tell Griffin you said that.” I mocked quietly.

“He’ll get over it.” He responded in time.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[writerinlearning]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝗼𝐮𝐫𝐬 | Part. One.

plot: after playing on the Orpheum stage and being saved by Julie from Caleb’s curse, Luke looks for reader, determined to tell her how he feels, but he wasn’t expecting to find her in a hospital bed, fighting for her life.

pairing: ghost!luke patterson x molina!fem!reader | julie molina x cousin!fem!reader

show: julie and the phantoms

warnings: mentions of car accident, drunk driving (please, never drive while intoxicated), blood, hospital

word count: 4,5k

author’s notes: english is not my first language, apologies for any mistakes. this is the second version of this fic. first version has been unpublished. reader is julie’s cousin on her father’s side, and she can see the boys too. i used the song heart like yours from the if i stay movie. this fic is also sorta based on said movie. there’s a second part planned for this fic.

luke patterson masterlist || part. two. || main masterlist

Los Angeles, 2020

Playing the Orpheum was everything Luke expected. Except for what came after. As soon as he got off the stage, Luke went to find Julie, Alex, and Reggie, to celebrate, but most importantly, he wanted Y/N to celebrate with them. Imagine his surprise when he got told that she wasn’t backstage after the show, nor was she home when they returned to Julie’s place. They looked for her all night, to no avail, and Luke kept on looking for her in the morning, until Julie showed up to the studio with the bad news. 

Luke never thought he’d hear those words in his life, but as soon as the words leave Julie’s mouth, his entire world comes crumbling down. Y/n had gotten in an accident on her way back home from the Orpheum after Julie and the Phantoms’ performance last night. Her car had been hit by a drunk driver speeding down the opposite lane, his vehicle diverting onto Y/n’s lane before the collision. It had sent Y/n flying in the driver’s seat, hitting her head badly against the dashboard whilst the windshield shattered when her car rolled over on the hood, sending shards of glass everywhere. And when the medics got to the accident scene, Y/n was already fighting to stay alive. She was barely breathing as they extracted her from the broken vehicle and carefully placed her onto a stretcher, putting an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Blood was dripping from the large cut that began on her forehead and went down to her left cheekbone, pieces of the windshield stuck into her collarbones and arms. The medics had hauled her into the ambulance and, as soon as the back doors had been closed, the vehicle sped down to the Los Angeles Community Hospital, the closest from the accident scene. 

When Julie woke up that morning, after playing the Orpheum, she hadn’t expected to see her father with his head in his hands, and his cell phone unlocked in front of him. Her brother, Carlos, wasn’t around, and she found it strange that he was nowhere to be seen. Sunday was usually family breakfast, and it was important to them since her mother passed away. 

She then spotted Reggie, who had a habit of joining the Molina family for breakfast, even though he couldn’t eat anything and was only seen by Julie and Y/n. He loved being in their presence, and when he noticed Julie standing in the room, his face fell; he was anticipating Julie’s reaction to the news her father would soon break to her. And he had every right too, for as soon as Ray noticed his daughter and the words fell past his lips, Julie fell to her knees on the wooden floor of the kitchen, taking her head in her hands while letting out soft sobs. Her shoulders were shaking, and Reggie wanted nothing more than to hug her, the one he had come to consider his sister, but decided against it since he knew it’d look weird to Ray, if his daughter were to hug the air. Hopeless, Reggie watched as Ray stood from the chair he was sitting on and crouched down beside Julie, holding her tightly in his arms, Carlos erupting from the living-room to join the rest of his family. 

Julie only finds the courage to go into the studio after midday, the memories of playing and singing with both her mom and Y/n being too painful. She doesn’t know what happens next, but Luke has the right to know. And yet, to Julie it felt like the story was repeating itself, except this time, an accident would take her cousin away from her, and not an illness. She doesn’t want to put Luke through the same pain she’s had to go through, after losing her mom, but someone has to tell Luke about Y/n, about what happened to her. 

Julie knows the lead guitarist has a thing for her cousin, but as far as she is concerned, he’s never acted on his feelings because he is a ghost and Y/n, well, she is very much alive. Luke thought it would never work, so he kept his feelings for himself, but it never stopped Julie, Alex or Reggie to tease poor Luke whenever Y/n entered the garage with a bright smile on her lips, ready to watch them rehearse. 

When Julie breaks down the news about her cousin to him, Luke is frozen in place, the sole of his feet glued to the ground and his face void of all emotions as he tries to process the heart-wrenching truth. Y/n, his Y/n, had been in a car accident and is now fighting for her life that was hanging on a thread. His hands begin to shake, and he has to turn them into fists to control himself. A single tear rolls down his cheek, escaping the corner of his eye, and although he’s a ghost, he could swear his heart was frantically beating under his ribcage. He wants to scream, to turn back time and let Y/n know how he feels about her, that he would find a way to break away from Caleb’s curse before it’s too late. Somehow, he did find a way last night, but he couldn’t tell Y/N. He couldn’t tell her because a stupid drunk driver had run into her car and she was now fighting for her life. Luke lets out a shaky exhale, his feet moving of their own accord towards Julie.

“Where is she?” He asks the girl, voice trembling and barely above a whisper.

“She’s been transferred to the Los Angeles Community Hospital.” Julie answers, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. “Tío Antonío called dad… said she is stable for now… but she is in a comatose state, and they don’t know when or if she’ll wake up…”

Luke slowly nods his head, the world surrounding him falling apart as Julie’s words echoes in his mind. Last night had probably been his last chance to tell her how he felt, but he was so preoccupied about fighting Caleb’s curse and playing the Orpheum to cross over, that he didn’t even get the opportunity to talk to her. It was his only regret from last night, not being able to speak with her. 

Julie tries to reach out for his hand, hoping to bring him comfort, but Luke poofs away right in front of her, leaving her standing in the middle of the studio. A sigh stumbles past her lips, and she wipes away the tears that have involuntarily fallen down her cheeks. She knows where Luke is headed, but she cannot find the strength in her to go and visit her cousin as well. And who could blame her, when the Los Angeles Community Hospital was the same one in which her mother passed away only a year ago. 

“You okay Jules?”

Julie lifts her head up, her eyes locking with Alex’s, who’s standing in front of her with his brows pulled together in concern. She exhales a long and slow breath, closing her eyes for a brief instant as she pinches the bridge of her nose to gather her thoughts. Alex doesn’t know about Y/N yet; no one has told him.

“Y/N’s in the hospital…” Julie tells Alex, nervously playing with her fingers. “I just told Luke… He’s gone to see her, I think. Some drunk driver crashed into her car last night, when she was on her way home from the Orpheum–”

“Y/N’s in the hospital?” Alex asks her as if he’s misunderstood her. “Is she okay? Oh my god! Are you okay, Julie? Shit, I– I’m sorry, oh my god! I’m–”

Alex’s words come to a stop when he feels a pair of arms around his torso, and when he looks down, he sees that Julie has wrapped her arms around him for comfort. He can only understand her pain; but he can never know how it truly feels to be afraid to lose your cousin, barely a year after losing your mom. He was the one to die first in his family, so he had no idea what it was to lose a family member. 

Julie lifts her head when she feels Alex’s arms around her shoulders, and she gives him a broken smile as the two stay surrounded by the silence in the studio, grieving out their emotions..

—

Luke paces inside the hospital’s hallway, eyes glancing back and forth between the floor and the little window on the door numbered 316. The whiteness of the walls, the scent of the morphine and all sorts of medicine make his stomach churn, nose scrunching up in disgust. Had he been alive, he knows he’d have thrown up on the floor right here and there.

He watches as nurses travel back and forth between patients’ rooms, some being in a hurry while others take their time, but his gaze always comes back to the two nurses in Y/N’s room. He can see them through the round window on the door; they’re chatting together before they begin to explain to Julie’s father the state Y/N is in, as her own father is away on a work trip and still trying to find a flight back home to be with his daughter. Ray Molina is the only relative Y/N has right now, thus making him her legal guardian until her father comes back to Los Angeles. 

Gnawing on his lower lip, Luke glances at the clock hung on the wall at the floor’s entrance, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. All he wants is to be by Y/n’s side, hold her hand and tell her everything that has happened after playing the Orpheum. He wants to tell her how he feels about her; he wants to see her smile and kiss those pink lips of hers. Now that he is able to touch Julie, he firmly believes he’ll be able to touch Y/n as well. And he couldn’t wait to tell her all about it; to hold her in his arms and run his hands through her hair as she rests her head in his lap. Even if she’s the only person able to see him, aside from Julie, they could have a perfectly normal relationship. Well, not quite normal, but they could do what any living couple could.

Luke is quickly pulled out of his reverie when the sound of three voices and a door creaking open reaches his ears. He lifts his head to see Ray greeting the two nurses with a wave of his hand before he lets out a long and heavy sigh. Luke waits for what seems to be hours, before Ray retreats to the elevators, probably to get himself something from the cafeteria. The guitarist takes it as his opportunity to enter Y/N’s room without anyone noticing the door opening and closing on its own.

With his feet deeply anchored to the ground, he is met with the beeping sound from the heart monitor connected to the girl lying unconscious on the bed, covered in bandages and stitches. Y/N is hooked to a breathing machine, thinner tube into the breathing tube going down her throat. A cannula is wrapped around her head; the two little tubes sticking into her nostrils to help her breathe. She has a feeding tube linked to the crook of her arm, through which Luke guesses she’s receiving liquids and nutrients to keep her hydrated and healthy until she wakes up from her coma. If she wakes up. Luke can see that other IVs and wires are connected to her body, but he has no idea what they are for; he just knows they’re here to keep her alive for as long as she has the strength to fight for her life.

He finally finds the strength to move from his spot after what seems like hours, and he pulls a chair closer to her bed before he sits down on it. His hazel green eyes fall onto the bruises scattered across her paper pale skin; on her collarbones and upper-chest, as well as on her arms where the IVs and wires are stuck into her skin. He notices the stitches on her face, from her forehead and down to her left cheekbone, dried blood sticking at her hairline. A large bandage has been wrapped around her head, and Luke recalls one of the nurses telling Julie’s father that Y/N had hit her head pretty hard against the dashboard of her car upon impact with the drunk driver’s vehicle.

Luke swallows the lump in his throat, the tears brimming his eyes now rolling down his cheeks to end their course on his thighs. He leans over the mattress, gently grabbing Y/N’s left hand in his right one, feeling the coldness of her skin against his own. His hand not falling through makes his heart flutter, that is if he still had a heart beating, but he isn’t in the right mindset to enjoy the little change. Instead he finds himself rubbing his calloused thumb against her knuckles, feeling the cuts on her skin under his touch, while he brushes his left hand through her hair in a gentle way. He begins to softly hum the melody of a song he’s been working on for the past week. He still hasn’t told anyone about it; he wants it to be a surprise to the person he’s writing it for. It isn’t finished yet, but it brings him a sense of comfort as he watches Y/N’s chest heave up and down with the help of the breathing machine. He wants to speak to her, let her know he’s right beside her, but his voice gets caught up in his throat as he lets out a shaky sob, removing his hand from her hair to put it over his mouth.

She looks so peaceful, lying there and tucked under the bedsheets, but he knows she isn’t asleep; the IVs, drips and wires are a clear sign for it. But he tries to convince himself as she’s indeed sleeping, and that she’s about to wake up to give him her most beautiful smile, the same one which had him fall deep down the rabbit hole the first time she had ever smiled at him. But then again, things do not go the way Luke wants them to go. The heart monitor’s steady beeping sounds increase in a more erratic one, Y/N’s body beginning to shake and spasm uncontrollably. His eyes widen in panic, body jerking back at the sudden change in the room, and he frantically looks around for anything.

Just then, the door opens and Ray rushes forwards. Julie is there too now, and Luke can see how she doesn’t dare to step past the door frame. She stays in the hallway, hopelessly watching her dad pushing on a red button on the remote by the bed. Luke stands still, his mind blank and empty of any thought. He’s only pulled out from his stoic state when Alex poofs right beside him and tugs at his arm to take him out of the room, just as nurses rush inside to care for Y/N.

The minute he’s out of room 316, Luke falls to his knees and takes his head in his hands. He can still feel Reggie and Alex beside him, but he doesn’t have the heart to ask them to leave him alone. He needs his friends, and as much as he wants to be left alone, he knows he needs them to stay here; to keep him grounded.

—

A month goes by, and still no improvements to Y/N’s state. Her father has managed to come back from his working trip, and he’s spent as much time as he could by his daughter’s side; Ray only taking his brother’s place when Antonío had to deal with urgent matters at work. Sometimes, when they aren’t at school, Julie and Carlos would join their father at Y/n’s side, and they would tell their cousin about their day. Julie also speaks about the band, and how they managed to get a record deal a week after playing the Orpheum. 

Luke, however, spends each of his days at the hospital. He tries not to ditch rehearsals with the band, but Julie, Alex, and Reggie know what he’s going through, and they always understand when sometimes he doesn’t show up. During the month he spends at the hospital, Luke witnesses Y/N’s heart stop twice, and the fear of losing her grows stronger whenever he steps past the door frame. He always brings his song book and guitar with him, working on his song to change his mind. Today is no exception.

Luke carries his guitar case in one hand, opening the door numbered 316 before stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him. He knows Julie is still in high school, and that Carlos has a baseball practice with his dad and Reggie, probably. Alex is probably off somewhere with Willie, having found him again on Hollywood boulevard two weeks after playing the Orpheum, and now they’re seeing each other in secret, hoping that Caleb never finds out about it. Luke also knows Y/N’s father wouldn’t be here today, having been held off at work for something important. So, besides the nurses that drop by once in a while to check on Y/N’s vitals, he’s completely alone with her.

He sits down in his usual spot, on the chair pulled by the hospital bed, and he places the leathered guitar case as his feet, opening the latches to take out his praised instrument. He begins to tune it, remembering the day he had heard one nurse telling Ray that Y/N could still hear people talk next to her, which had, for a short moment, brought a smile to Luke’s lips. He shakes his head at the thought, leaning down to grab his song book and opening it to a page at the end. His messy handwriting litter the paper, but in big letters at the top are written the words “HEART LIKE YOURS”.

It’s the song he’s been working on, without his friends’ knowledge of the song ever existing. It’s the song he’d planned to reveal to everyone by singing it to his special someone; his Y/N. He doesn’t know when or if she’ll wake up, nor does he know if he’ll ever have the chance to tell her the song is for her, but he’s finally finished writing and composing it the previous night, and he wants her to hear it at least once. Luke gently plucks the strings of his instrument, a soft sound echoing inside the room. He knows he won’t be visible to anyone who might come inside upon hearing the music, since Julie isn’t singing with him, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. He has to tell Y/N how he feels about her, even if she may never wake up, and the best way for him to express his feelings is through music.

“Breathe deep, breathe clear,” Luke begins to sing softly, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. “Know that I’m here. Know that I’m here, waitin’.”

His voice waver a little, and he closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply to once again focus on his song. His fingers keep on delicately strumming the strings of his instrument, the sound of his voice soft and echoing around the room; the sound of the heart monitor muffled by the melody he’s producing.

“How could a heart like yours–” Luke sings the chorus, his hazel green eyes now focused on Y/N, “–ever love a heart like mine? How could I live before? How could I have been so blind? You opened up my eyes. You opened up my eyes…”  

Luke pours his feelings into the song, meaning every word he sings to her as more tears cascade down his cheeks, but never once does he begin to sob. If Y/N is even able to hear him, even in a coma, he’d go through with his song, wanting her to know exactly how he feels; how he feels about her.

“Sleep sound, sleep tight–” Luke begins the second verse, eyes glancing down at his song book for a second. “–here in my mind. Here in my mind, waitin’. Come close my dear, you don’t have to fear. You don’t have to fear, waitin’.” He swallows the lump in his throat, keeping on strumming the strings softly while he takes a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.”

He whisper-sings the pre-chorus and stops his strumming. He lifts himself from the chair and hovers over Y/N, his tears hitting the pillow under her head while he swings his guitar behind his back. Luke closes his eyes, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead as more tears roll down his cheeks to end their course on Y/N’s cold skin. When he sits back on the chair, he begins to pluck the strings of his instrument again, picking up the song where he stopped it, and his wavering voice joins the melody to sing the chorus, his eyes never leaving Y/N.

“Hold fast, hope.” He reaches the bridge, sniffling. “All your love is all I’ve ever known.”

And yes, her love might only have been platonic towards him, but it’s all he’s ever known, alive or dead. Back in the 90s, he wasn’t much into the dating thing, and he’d rather focus on the band. Though he did have a fling with Alex, it didn’t last long and the two remained friends from that time onwards, and Sunset Curve had never been better. Well, until him, Reggie and Alex died from bad hot dogs in 1995. So yes, Y/N’s love for him, however platonic it is, it’s all he’s ever known, and he’s afraid to lose her. He’s afraid he’s been too late to admit his feelings.

“How could a heart like yours,” he sings the last chorus, thinking back to all the memories he has of her. “–ever love a heart like mine? How could I live before? How could I have been so blind? You opened up my eyes… you opened up my eyes…”

Luke’s fingers keep strumming on the strings as he sings the outro, inhaling sharply as he ends the song with one final melody. He wipes the tears on his cheeks with the sleeves of the plaid jacket he’s decided to wear today, putting his cherished instrument back into its case, followed by his song book before he closes it. He glides the chair against the tiled floor, making a terrible sound as he pulls it closer to Y/N’s bed. The guitarist takes her left hand in his right one, and he begins rubbing his sore thumb against her knuckles in circles. Luke then leans his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as he lets out a shaky breath.

“I love you, Y/N.” There. He finally said it, though he wishes it was under other circumstances. “I’ve always loved you…” His voice wavers. “The way you smile, and crinkles appear at the corner of your eyes. Or the way you’d jump around, listening to the Sunset Curve demo after it brought me, Reggie and Alex back to the studio… I remember when you got mad at us for ditching Julie on the night of the dance, and I had never felt so mad in my life, or afterlife–” Luke chuckles. “ –before. You stayed mad at us for three whole days, until Julie pleaded with you to forgive us like she did. We even had to sing a song to convince you.”

He pauses, leaning back into the chair to take a look at her peaceful state. Her hair lays around her head like a halo on the pearly white pillow case, her body carefully tucked under the bed sheets as her hands rest on her stomach. Luke can see her breathing pattern with the up and down movement of her chest, and the steady beeping of the monitor to his right lets him know that her heart is still beating. There’s a ray of the sun that peaks through the half-opened curtains in the room, casting its light on her serene frame, and she looks even more like an angel.

“I, I–” He stutters, his voice breaking. “I know you’ve been fighting so hard to stay, and as much as– as much as I want you to keep fighting for your family, for us, I–” A pause, followed by a deep breath. “I’ll understand if you want to let go. I promise to keep an eye on your cousins, for as long as I shall walk this Earth as a ghost…” A sob rips from his chest, but he’s the only one who can hear it. He reaches for her hand one last time, and then– “You can let go now…” 

Luke says as his voice wavers, breaking down completely. He lets go of her hand to bury his head between his knees after pulling up his legs against his chest, finding himself in some kind of fetal position on the chair he’s been occupying for the last month. He can’t bring himself to look at her again, not when the beeping from the monitor grows louder and faster. His breath gets caught up in his throat, and he feels like drowning whenever a hiccup rips from his chest. His grief grows heavier, but he cannot find the strength to leave the room knowing it’ll be the last time he’ll ever see her. He knows there’s a slim possibility for her to become a ghost after she passes away, but he doubts she has any unfinished business to keep her on Earth. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, crying and unable to move from his chair, but the sun has settled down behind the horizon when he finally looks up. His ears catch on to the steady sound of the monitor, and his brows furrowed in confusion. Didn’t it grow faster just a few minutes ago? He glances at the clock above the hospital bed. 08:15 pm. He’s stayed here too long, he needs to get back to Julie’s garage; let his bandmates know where he’s been the whole day, even if they already guessed it. 

Reluctantly, he motivates himself to rise from his chair, picking up the leathered guitar case at his feet in the process. Slowly, he makes his way towards the door, and when his hand reaches for the metallic doorknob, he looks over his shoulder one last time.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His words come out as a whisper hanging around in the pristine white room. His mind becomes overwhelmed with memories of Y/N, of her smile, her laughter, and of the sound of her voice, so much that he fails to notice the monitor picking up, and the muffled coughs that come from the bed.

“Lu– Luke?”

The guitarist stops dead in his walk, halfway through the door frame, as a hoarse voice reaches his ears; a voice, however muffled it was, he thought he would never hear again.

[intheholler]

brought up in the rolling hills of greater appalachia, there were scarce times, there were good times, and there were rough times. just like anywhere else. but at all times there was hope and community, no matter the circumstance.

as many negative things as i hear about the place i live and as many experiences i have had that align with such criticisms, there were a thousand more instances where i was blessed with an enchanting, community enriched childhood. i will never forget or under-appreciate the closeness of neighbors despite our long lengths from one another.

what i mean to say is, appalachia, they could never make me hate you.

my Daddy is a pastor and my Mama the most down to earth pastor’s wife to walk this sweet, dark-soiled land we are so blessed to live on. even though my father and i don’t always get along, my mother and i are and will forever be the most kindred of spirits. through her wit, her will, and her wisdom, many traditions of appalachia have been passed down to me.

your porch ceiling best be haint blue, and you had better never close another person’s pocket knife. always gift a hand-quilted or crocheted blanket at every baby shower you ever attend. sprinkling salt at every doorway while squeaking out a hushed and hastened prayer for protection.

even those are just a few traditions that i can credit to my culture and my mother who instilled it in me. and that installation is so incredibly important. so as not to lose our rich, beautiful, and complex history.

the first rumblings, the soft spot

an important experience that i would argue helps many appalachian children to realize their culture and heritage is when they, for the first time, listen in to the kitchen talk among cousins. how Papaw can’t read so well because he never got to finish up school and why Uncle Rick got this new job manufacturing cars. how Meemaw lost her baby to scarlett fever and how Miss Deretta down the road worked at the children’s home where your cousin Thomas got dropped off in a cardboard box after a flood that demolished the apartments uptown. slowly, piece by piece, your young mind starts to understand the ebb and flow of unspoken community support. the gentle hand holding taking place through the entire mountain range. the interwoven families that aren’t any kin.

running interference

as you grow up, unfortunately, the world seeps in, slow and clever as a fox in the hen house. making your own out to be some sort of gnawing hillbilly that don’t know their ass from grass. and suddenly when someone asks where you’re from you’re ashamed to admit it. the only thing that you and friends talk about is getting out and seeing new places, away from the parents and the gossip pew of your respective churches. on friday night you all meet up in the Dollar General parking lot and carpool to your school’s football game so that you can shout wildly inappropriate cheers at the rival of the night from the student section. you run into Mrs Connor while washing your hands in the restrooms behind the stadium and when she tells you vibrant stories of your Pa in high school, skipping for deer hunting season along with half of the class of ‘68, you appreciate her. and you don’t know it, but every interaction like that, grows your mountain heart bigger, making more room for story after story.

one of my friends is now engaged to the man who was their starting quarterback. the two of them are the sweetest of couples. the world is perfectly small here.

weeks-long revival and a singing every night

after an innocent turned passionate kiss in your church crush’s car, you find space on the pew with the rest of your youth group, leaving room for jesus, of course. Aneoumes (an-nay-mus, unique name, i know) the church Dulcimer player brings out his fine jnstrument with Mrs Dorothy, the pianist and the previously mentioned Mrs Connor on the organ to do their own mesmerizing renditions of When the Roll is Called up Yonder, I’ll Fly Away, The Gloryland Way, Mansion Over the Hilltop, He Set me Free, Heaven’s Jubilee, and the baptist favorite, Amazing Grace making for a beautiful night of harmony among voices. anymore you weren’t sure what you believed (not that you dared to tell a soul, or even say it out loud) but you knew good and well that church brought people together and helped those in need, and both of those were things you could get on board with. of course the politics were messy, but you could mostly keep your lips sealed. your home church certainly did more to feed the hungry than the government officials who were supposedly all libbed up, or at least that is what they’d pushed.

suddenly, this place didn’t seem so bad. you were worn smack out but only because of the late company, which you certainly didn’t mind in exchange for a typical night of hot, early sleep. when you got home Todd Lee your neighbor was still cutting hay and so the putputput of his tractor lulled you off to sleep. he told you “it keeps the sugar in, seeing’s that it’s nice and cool out in the dark” he had told you when you let him know that his lively tractor sounds put you at peace every night.

something about this place felt more special, fonder, than what you had understood in your younger teen years.

the first leaving

your dad received a stimulus check during the pandemic and decided to go visit his aunt Barbara on the northeast coast. being away from home a whole week felt like a pig being gutted and packed, still warm in the patties. it was awful. every night you cried, holding your younger siblings who did the same, no one here smiled or talked to you and the rain didn’t smell right, the food was bland and blended all together in taste, worst of all there was nowhere to be that wasn’t covered in concrete and where there was, you had to pay for access. when the mountains finally came back into sight, your heart leaped and tears fell from your eyes. that moment was as close to divine intervention as you’d felt since your baptism. gratitude overwhelmed your senses and you thanked jesus for being born where you were. where people were friendly and food was good and friends were close and everything was wide open.

for a moment you wondered if when David wrote “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.” if he too was experiencing the peace of returning home after a tumultuous time away.

the second leaving and the enthusiastic return

now, you’re headed off to college. it grips at your heart that you won’t be with the supportive community around you that you’ve always had. but this time the leaving makes sense. you’ll educate yourself on how to teach and help others, you’ll take extra, unnecessary classes on heritage and both cultural and natural history. upon your return you get to take all that hurt from being away and pour back into the place that has loved you so well. and you get to be the next generation to tell your own kiddos to keep the haints from their houses and their hands to the knives in their own pockets.

hopefully your loving will look a bit different, cast a wider net so that those kids who weren’t as lucky as you feel accepted in the community of people around them.

most importantly when you return with your degree and your license to teach, you can instill pride in those children, let them know that these lush hills and woods and creeks and mountains they call home really are some of the most wonderful places this world has to offer up. encourage them to believe that professional speaking is not removed from their dialect but rather in their clarity of conveyance. uplift the idea that time spent with family and friends, neighbors and strangers alike is to be valued. and most importantly in my book, teach them to appreciate the stories they are told, to remember them whether mentally or by doing some manual record keeping. our stories are our testaments to the fulfilling life that can be lived here. and the stories of our neighbor may have a great impact in our thinking.

what i’m trying to say is, appalachia, they could never make me hate you.

(i got totally carried away, sorry it’s so long)

.

[ahedderick]

Grandpa's chest

Sooooo, yesterday was the big chest-retrieval-from-Shunk-Pennsylvania day. My daughter and I set out at 11:30; she was riding along for moral support and navigation. She has a complicated phone and I do not.

Our first issue, just over the border in PA, was a 'Sunday' driver who was tootling along far under the speed limit. This trip was supposed to be 3.5 hours one way; I didn't want that to get even longer. However, even though it was a highway, it was too narrow to have a passing lane and too curvy to pass by pulling into the oncoming lane. We tootled. Anxiously. Then a shiny, bright yellow pickup pulled out in front, and slowed down. We were now 30 mph under the speed limit. Absolutely no safe way to pass. To my great relief, both vehicles pulled off onto a side road after a few miles, and I got the Subaru zoomies.

The rest of the trip north was uneventful traffic-wise. When we got off the highways and onto secondary roads just past Williamsport, the scenery was lovely. The temptation to just pull off and spend a while playing in the river* was intense! There were also downed trees leaning on the electric wires - not just one or two, but many! Yikes.

After a l-o-n-g stint on steep, winding backroads, we arrived at my late father's cousin's house, which is being cleaned out and sold off by her daughter, my second cousin. Got all that? Don't worry, not truly crucial info. The wooden chest that she was giving us had little caster wheels, ornate carving around the sides, some very interesting little drawers, and a flat top that really looked as if another piece was supposed to sit on top of it.

A neighbor helped us load it gently into the back of my car. He oriented it rightside up; it just barely fit. A little voice in the back of my brain was bothered by that, but I couldn't figure out why.

["This is wrong" "ok, why?" "Not telling you, just it's wrong!"]

As we started back down the gravel road, it because abundantly clear why. The flipping thing was sitting on its wheels - and rolling back and forth in the car at every turn and incline. We had to pull over, wrestle the thing out, then back in on its top. Sheesh.

There was no cell service, so K couldn't get the phone to give us directions back out, but we figured we could backtrack just by memory for a while, until the service kicked back in. That worked. Once she had directions again, we headed south. She was driving the return trip. "Uh-oh, my phone's at 20%"

I figured if the phone could get us as far as the main northeast/southwest highway, I'd be able to figure things out from there. And it almost did. It conked out when were were just a mile or two away from 220S. Unfortunately, so did my daughter. She was sick earlier in the week, and not quite recovered; after an hour of driving she got drowsy and I had to take back over.

Oop, I have a lot of party prep today, I'm going to have to come back to this later.

'* pretty sure this was Loyalsock creek. A puzzling name.

[snowywolf1005]

HAPPY THANKSGIVING 🦃

ONE PIECE X MEXICO

"Boys! You better get ass over here!!" Victoria shouted, "we're coming!" Chooper hurry downstairs with clothes for Thanksgiving party.

"Victoria, I this hat fits my hat, and it has a skull with flames!" Said luffy, "luffy! Put your buttons on!" She said, buttoning Luffy shirt. "Luffy, go outside, (S/N) is at the bus." Said vitoria. Luffy was excited to go to the bus.

The bus:

And this:

Cause they're so many, strawhat pirate, heart pirate, and kid pirate. "Oh, gracias, Kidd." Said abuela, has Kidd, carefully walk down with her. "Robin, do you have the meat?" Victoria asks, "Yep, " she said.

"Do we have everyone?" (F/N) check the room upstairs and give a thumb up, " Okay, now, we can go"

"Alright!" Luffy shouted, Victoria brother, drive the bus, and but on some music.

Luffy, ace, sabo, usopp, chopper talk. Kidd and Killer were holding some food. Law and Robin read some books, thinking what happened on the day of the dead. Zoro and sanji were fighting.

Nami was doing some makeup she brought, and Robin joined. Once they were made to party, everyone got off, and Luffy and Chopper saw bounce house.

And went in, and played with other kids. Zoro drinks some Mexican wine, alcohol, tequila, everything! They have every drink they have!

Sanji help the aunts, cooking, "¿Necesitas ayuda, señora? (Do you need help, mam?" He asks. The aunt will start blushing and love his cooking skills. "Bro, you're looking good, man!" Usopp being show off with Victoria cousins, his outfit and he got, cool hat.

"Oye, ¡tenemos comida si quieres!" Said tía, luffy and ace dash and got some food, luffy is have a hard time to pick meat. "It so hard to pick!" He shouted. "Vaya, te ves hermosa, Nami. Tú también, Robin." Nami blush.

People blast music, and some people dance. Luffy learned how to dance and has a Mexican. People were confused killer masks, but they let him be. The kids love to play Chooper, but they're gentle.

Luffy shows everyone his devil fruit power, jinbe teach kids his karate, "¿como esto?" They ask, jinbe give them a thumb up. He loves kid call him, like 'karate jinbe, master jinbe, jin'.

Then this music shows up:

Everyone gets on stage, "Why is everyone on the dance floor?" Ace look confused when Victoria ask them to come. They started dancing when they heard there gonna be a fast one.

They thought it would be easy, but nope, they started going faster and faster when they were all out of breath. Law was sweating from the dance, and Usopp passed out. Luffy started drinking soda.

Franky, look at the cars. He even shows kids his super poses. Kidd, stay with abuela cause she trusts him, Law even teased about it.

Luffy will run away from chihuahua. The kid will nuzzles bepo of how fluffy he was. The pirates stay the party forever. "Food!" Luffy jumps when there's more food outside with the uncles.

Robin and Law, when Victoria told them that mexico has a holiday called Día del rey pirata, the king of the pirate day. Celebrating Roger, who came mexico the first day and celebrated Roger birthday.

And luffy told everyone that he'll gonna be king of the pirate. The family cheers for him and drinks shots for him. Luffy smiles, and they celebrate.

IF YOU WANT TO REQUEST...

ONE PIECE X MEXICO

Ask!

[inky-writing]

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Inky-writing masterlist Mirage masterlist

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,550

Chapter 5: Identity

Christmas time

December arrived in Forks with a crisp chill and snow. The town was transformed into a winter wonderland, with lights strung across Main Street and wreaths adorning every door. Y/N found herself embracing the season with ease, despite the ache that accompanied the holidays this year.

Her friend group had remained close, even after her breakup with Mike. To her relief, he had forgiven her quickly, and their friendship had returned to its playful dynamic. He still teased her endlessly, but there was no bitterness. Jessica, too, seemed lighter, though Y/N wasn’t sure if that was due to Mike’s renewed attention or something entirely different. Either way, the tension that had once hung between them was gone, replaced by an easy camaraderie.

On Christmas Eve, Y/N and Charlie decorated the tree they’d picked up from the local farm. It stood in the corner of the living room, adorned with mismatched ornaments that Charlie had accumulated over the years. Y/N’s heart clenched as she hung the final piece: a delicate snowflake ornament that had belonged to her mother. Charlie noticed her hesitation and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“She’d be proud of you, kid” he said gruffly, his voice thick.

Y/N nodded, blinking back tears, “Thanks, Uncle Charlie”.

The evening passed quietly, the two of them sharing a simple meal made of a take-out from their go-to diner: stuffed turkey with vegetables, and chocolate patisseries as dessert; before settling in to watch a Christmas movie. For the first time in months, Y/N felt a glimmer of warmth in her chest. It wasn’t the same as before, but it was enough.

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. Y/N woke to the smell of coffee, eggs, pancakes and bacon coming from the kitchen. She padded downstairs to find Charlie at the stove, a rare sight that made her laugh.

“What’s the occasion?” she teased.

“It’s Christmas” he replied with a shrug, flipping a pancake, “Figured I’d make it special and cook”.

After breakfast, Charlie led her outside to the garage, where a surprise was waiting, covered in the corner like a mystery begging to be unraveled.

“What is it?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.

Charlie grinned, “Merry Christmas, kid”. He pulled the tarp away, revealing an old forest green Jeep Wrangler.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “You… what? Is this for me?”

“I’ve been working on it for years. I bought it with my brother, your dad” he admitted, looking a little sheepish. “Figured it was about time I finished it. Thought you might like it”.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the worn but lovingly restored exterior. “Charlie, this is amazing. Thank you”.

Charlie smiled, clearly pleased with her reaction. “Figured it’d be useful, too. You’ve got places to go, people to see”.

They spent the next hour going over the Jeep’s features, with Charlie explaining everything in detail. Y/N didn’t mind; she loved seeing him so animated. It was the best gift she could have asked for.

Later that afternoon, they headed into town in her new car, to shop for Bella’s room. Y/N had been looking forward to her cousin’s arrival in January, and Charlie had enlisted her help to make the room feel welcoming. Together, they browsed through the small shops in Forks, picking out purple beddings, a lamp, and a few decorations.

“Do you think she’ll like this?” Y/N asked, holding up a string of fairy lights.

Charlie gave her a dubious look. “Fairy lights? What’s wrong with a regular lamp?”.

“Fairy lights are cozy” Y/N insisted, rolling her eyes, “Trust me, she’ll love them”.

Charlie relented, and they added the lights to their cart. By the end of the day, they had everything they needed to transform Bella’s room into a cozy retreat. As they drove home, Y/N hoped that Bella would love the warm welcome awaiting her.

That evening, as Y/N sat in her room looking out at the snow-covered yard, she realized how much had changed in the past few months. Her grief still lingered, but it no longer consumed her. She had friends, and a growing connection with her family. And for the first time in a while, she felt a glimmer of hope for the future.

January 2005 - Y/N

January brought a fresh start. Y/N had spent the last few days helping Charlie put the finishing touches in Bella’s room, and now the day had arrived to pick her up from the airport. The drive was quiet but not uncomfortable. Charlie’s focus on the road gave Y/N time to think about what Bella’s arrival might mean for her life in Forks.

Seattle airport was bustling, a stark contrast to the quiet of Forks. As soon as they spotted Bella at the baggage claim, Y/N swelled with happiness. Bella looked just as she remembered: unassuming and somehow older than her years.

“Bella!” Y/N called, waving her arms to get her attention.

Bella’s face lit up at the sight of them, “Y/N!” She hurried over, her suitcase trailing behind her.

Y/N pulled her into a tight hug, “It’s so good to see you! You’re going to love it here, I promise.”

Bella gave a small, nervous laugh, “I’ll take your word for it.”

The drive back to Forks was filled with conversation, mostly between Y/N and Bella, with Charlie chiming in occasionally. Y/N did her best to highlight the positives of Forks: the quiet, the beauty of the forest, among other things. Bella listened, though Y/N could sense her cousin’s apprehension about her new life.

Bella’s first day at Forks High School came faster than either of them had expected. Y/N walked her through the halls, pointing out classrooms and giving her a crash course on who’s who. Her friends were quick to welcome Bella into the group, though Mike’s interest was immediately obvious.

“Hey, Bella” Mike said, flashing her a grin, “If you need any help finding your way around, let me know”.

Y/N shot him a look but decided to let it slide. Bella seemed oblivious to his attention, which was kind of amusing.

By the end of the week, Bella had settled into a routine. Y/N could tell she was still adjusting, but her cousin’s resilience shone through. They spent their evenings catching up, talking about everything from their childhood memories to the quirks of the high school. It was comforting to have someone who understood her and shared her interests, someone who felt like home.

Meanwhile - Esme

Esme Cullen sat in the library of their home, elegant and still. Her outward demeanor was warm and maternal, as it always was, but her thoughts were far from innocent. Hidden behind her gentle smile was a mind that worked tirelessly, orchestrating a plan that had been decades in the making.

She closed the book she had been pretending to read while Carlisle was still home, but as soon as he left, she made sure the house was empty before walking to the study. Locking the door behind her, she pulled out an untraceable phone and dialed a familiar number. The line barely rang before it was picked up.

“Esme” came Caius’s voice, always tinged with coldness. “How lovely to hear from you”.

“Caius”, Esme replied, her voice soft but steady, “I have updates”.

“Go on”, he prompted, his tone sharpening with interest.

“Everything is proceeding as expected. The family remains unaware of my true purpose here. Carlisle is as devoted as ever, and the others suspect nothing” she reported. “Edward has been… restless. His infatuation with the new girl, Bella Swan, might bring an opportunity to make him join us”.

“Interesting” Caius mused. “And Alice? Has she shown any signs of… awareness?”.

Esme shook her head, though he couldn’t see it, “No. She remains loyal to the family. Her visions, however, have been… unreliable. She��s attributed it to the Swan's cousins presence, but we know better.”

Caius chuckled. “Indeed, my dear. Your ability to manipulate perception serves us well. Ensure that her visions remain clouded. We cannot risk her uncovering the truth”.

“Of course”, Esme said smoothly. “What are your instructions?”

“Continue to observe and report. Edward and Alice are of paramount importance. When the time comes, we will act swiftly. Until then, maintain your cover. You have done exceptionally well, Esme. We are pleased. When all is done, you will be generously rewarded”.

Esme allowed herself a small smile. “Thank you, Caius. I will not fail you”.

The call ended, and Esme returned the phone to its hiding place. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself before leaving the study. As she rejoined the living room, her expression was serene. None of the Cullens suspected the truth, she thoughts. To them, she was Esme, their loving mother. And for now, that was exactly what she needed to be, even though she missed the taste of human blood. 

But inside, she was already planning her next move, her mind a labyrinth of schemes designed to ensure the Volturi’s dominance. After all, loyalty to Caius was not just a choice; it was her destiny.

Chapter 6 >>>

[baocean]

SPRINGSTEEN - JJ MAYBANK

First of my country songs series, listen to the song!!! (Give country a chance, I’m begging you)

Summary: Seventeen years old or twenty-seven, it didn’t matter, you still loved JJ Maybank.

Warnings: none!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x touron!reader JJ Maybank x kook!reader

It had been almost ten years since you last saw him. You could still remember like it was yesterday, though. You were freshly seventeen and were spending the summer on the Banks with your family.

The first time he saw you was when he was passing your beach house in the Twinkie, along with his other friends. John B called a hello out the window and JJ turned his head to watch you play with your little cousins in the front yard until he couldn’t see you anymore.

You were stuck in his head like a piece of bubblegum. Sort of like the one you were popping in your mouth when he first drove by. He memorized the way you looked, the way your white top made your tan skin shine, how your cut off jeans made his fingers tingle. The Ray-bands that were stuck in your messy hair, fresh from the ocean. You were wearing flip flops and still, JJ couldn’t get enough.

He made up stupid reasons to take the Twinkie, drive it across town and down your street, hoping to get another glance at you.

When he did, he pulled onto the side of the road. You were getting out of your car, an iced coffee in one hand and a bouquet of flowers from the supermarket in the other. He thought you looked like a dream.

“Are you new?” He called out the window, swallowing the nerves. He felt like he was talking to a celebrity. Something told him he wouldn’t be as nervous to talk to an actual celeb as he was calling out for you.

“I’m here for the summer. Who are you?” You replied.

“JJ. Would you go to a party with me tonight?”

“Are you going to murder me after, JJ?”

The cute blonde sticking his head out of the Volkswagen Touran was grinning ear to ear at your response. He shook his head, then you smiled, too. You shrugged your shoulders and agreed.

“I’ll pick you up at seven. You’ll be here?” He yelled, smacking his head against the door, it made a loud sound from the metal of his rings.

“I’ll be here. See you tonight.” You smiled and turned to walk up the stairs to the front door.

Fourteen days later, you were pretty sure you had fallen in love. For the first time, you were feeling something like you could jump off a cliff and no matter what or where, JJ would be at the bottom to catch you. Maybe you were just being a silly teenager, but you were certain that’s what love felt like.

JJ would take you to the old shipyard and find a container to sit on and watch the ships sail out onto the ocean or take you to his friend Kiara’s restaurant where you would sit and talk as a date until Mr. Carrera forced you guys out.

At the end of everyday, he’d take his sweet time driving you home, taking the far way around the island. He’d make you so late your parents would be angry every time you got home. You didn’t care, neither did he.

“Don’t go.” You whined one night. Sitting in the Twinkie, in your driveway. It was the third week of summer, it was a hot and sticky night, the ac was blowing your hair in a way that made JJ think you looked like an angel. He gave you a sickly, sweet smile that made you want him to kiss you. You had only known JJ for three weeks but when he kissed you, it felt like it had been years. He kissed you so sweet, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you over to sit closer to him. It was the best kiss of your life.

At twenty-seven, you still thought about him like the last time you saw him was the day before. You wondered if now, at twenty-seven, JJ would think about you too when he would hear a song from Bruce Springsteen. That summer, at eighteen, JJ was obsessed with him and Snoop Dog, saying he wanted to smoke like Snoop and sing like Bruce. He certainly smoked enough to run with Snoop Dog but you used to laugh and cover your ears when he sung along to the radio.

You were back in the Banks, in the same house on the same street, almost ten years later. The same family you were with the last time were there, except your father. When he died six months ago, he made you promise to start a tradition of making good use out the the house he paid an expensive mortgage for. So there you were, with the same cousins you used to play with in the front yard, now the same age as you were the last time.

When you saw him, he was driving by in a beat up, black Jeep. You were unloading things from your white BMW, the one you had been dreaming of buying since you graduated college from Clemson. He hit the breaks so hard the hodgepodge of items on his passenger seat went flying. You dropped your bags back into the backseat.

You almost couldn’t believe it was him. He was so handsome, the same blonde hair and pretty blue eyes, just all grown up. He let his arm hang out the side of his car as you walked over. You caught sight of your name, tattooed into his wrist. It had faded since you last saw it. He had gotten it a few weeks before you left that summer. You could remember the god awful look your mother gave you when she saw your name, tattooed on the pogue boys wrist as he shook her hand for the first time. You also remembered you didn’t care what she thought, all you could think about is that when he got it, you were holding his hand and he was telling you how much he loved you.

“Is that you, JJ Maybank?” You wrapped your fingers around the door handle and pulled it open, not thinking about what you were doing. You had guessed you just wanted to see him, all of him.

He smiled and it’s like you were sent back into time, the first time he smiled at you, in the same driveway. He nodded, stepping out the car that was still running. JJ needed to see you too, without a stupid door in the way. He wanted to see what ten years did to you.

He grew taller. Even at seventeen when sleeping at the Chateau, he would complain about not being able to rest because of his growing pains. He used to pull you into his body and tell you to kiss it better.

JJ thought you were even more beautiful than you were at seventeen. At eighteen, he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. At twenty-eight, he knew you were the most beautiful woman there was.

That night, he took you out to The Wreck, where Mr. Carrera greeted you, telling you all about Kiara’s successes in Australia. ‘Born in the USA’ played over the speakers in the restaurant. JJ sang along to the lyrics.

“You haven’t gotten any better at singing.” You laughed over the Bruce Springsteen song.

“Yea, I quit smoking too. So there goes both my dreams.” He shook his head, looking up at you through his blonde hair.

“What’s your dream now?” You head your head in your hands, watching him think. His eyebrows furrowed anytime he thought hard about something. You learned that about him early on.

“Move out of my apartment, I’m barely there anyway. Get a nice house on the water and surf a ton. Open up my own surfboard company. Probably marry you, too.”

He took you by surprise. You found yourself thinking the same thing, though. Time didn’t seem to matter when it came to you and JJ.

That summer, you spent any free time with JJ. When he bought the small warehouse to start his business, you were there when he signed the lease. The first surfboard he made was for you. When you got sick as a dog for a week, he was there. You learned how good JJ was at making chicken noodle soup.

Three years later, on the other side of town, the nicer side of town, JJ and you walked along the beach. Your house was just a few hundred feet down. It was a dark blue, with a wrap around pouch and had a hammock you laid in when the sun was setting.

Your boyfriend’s business took off, he was shipping surfboards across the world daily, with lots of orders waiting for him. Your career in marketing was taking off well.

He proposed to you three years after twenty-seven. On the beach your dark blue house rested on. With a ring he saved up his entire life for.

At seventeen, you thought that summer would be the last time you saw JJ. At thirty, you wanted to laugh and tell her she was a silly teenager. You wanted to tell her that her cliff jumping love was real, and it lasted.

…….

[discotitsposts]

true genius-

my actual favorite episode ever ever ever I’m SO INSANE FOR THIS EPIDODE

this is like the first one o watched on my own ITS SO GOOD

reid centered so yayy

this is how i fell in love w him

spoilers ahead

YAYYYYY NOSTALGIA!!!!!!!

lol typical making out in a car

DID I MENTION THISBIS MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE EPISODE

FINN WITTROCK IS IN THIS TOO

the zodiac killer case is so interesting like wym dude never got caught

A FETISH FOR TREES

POOR BABY IS SO NERVOUS

ITS HIS BJRTBDAY IN THIS EP TOO

the cOUGHING

“yes a fetish for trees” HES SO AWKWARD I LOVE YOU REID

no he LEAVES NOOO

lol this guy runs a company

The way if reid was at a conference i’d run and be listening to every word

awww reid’s sad :(

rossi lol “no way” yes way

this is so interesting like how did bro get the original artifacts from the real case (i know how he did it)

reid reid reid!!!!

imagine if spencer knew how many people love him and write fanfic about him LMAO

he’d be a little terrified let’s be honest

but just a little

UGH EVERYONES SO HOT

“three can keep a secret if two are dead” i thought this was criminal minds not pretty little liars

i can’t even tell you how many times i’ve seen this episode

like this is MY episode i claim this one lol

CHESS YOUNKNOW WHO ELSE LIKES CHESS

SPENCER

bros playing chess on break

SPENCERRRRRR

lol enlightening

he wants the printed out version of the paper 💞💞

the way spencer just knew this wasn’t the real zodiac killer is why i was like this guys great 💞💞💞 my heart

AHHHHHHAHEJDJWBEWJWIROSOWBDBEKENFNF

IM SO EXCITED TI BE WATCHING THIS ONE

it’s so funny because i’ll be watching this show and this is my view

the barbie’s r like wtf

THIS GUY LYING ABOUT HIS COUISN

lol reid ended this guy

LOL

LUCKILY I GUESS ITS NOT YOUR COUSIN AHAHAH ATE

FINN WITTROCK💞💞

LOL his presentation

“your soulmate is standing before you now” is he talking about the lady or himself

i remember originally watching this because finn wittrock but fell for spencer/matthew instead lol

i like this detective from the local pd

“where do people find the time” lol reid

dr spencer reid i love your mind

“youre not as smart as you think you are” 😫😫😫💞💞💞SIR IM STUPID FOR YOU 💞💞💞

REID IN PURPLEEEEEE

OMG HES STANDING IN THE SUNLUGHT

y’all have to see this

UGHHHH💞🕳️🕳️🕳️💞💞💞

profile!!

REID AT THE COFFE SHOP STOEOEJDWH

dude has a detective board

lol he thinks she wants to call off the wedding

bro she doesn’t want you

REID NO YOUVE PASSED EXPECTSTIONS YOURE PERFECT I LOVE YOU

“How old are you 29,”

“I’m 30” NOOOOOOOOOOO

nikola tesla my beloved

emily lol

doesn’t he accidentally see a pattern lol dudes so smart

emily’s little smile lol

for he

god he’s so smart

the problem is i think i could understand the code and idk my iq but it’s prob not 160 or above

how do u even calculate that shit

reid’s face is perfect

the taxi driver, didn’t he kidnap the best friends wife from the back of the cab

i don’t think i made this very clear but this is my favorite episode EVER

i’m gonna fucking bite spencer if he keeps being so adorable

finn ain’t no angel in this

vegas!! matthew’s hometown

REID IN THE BACKGROUND

heTALKSK SO FAST I LOVENIT SM

mY leg itcjes

i also would like to catch the zodiac

REID ON THE FHAIR

staring at nothing

HAHAH

best friend activities

REIDS HANDS MOVE SO FAST

i need him now

aDmiT iT yOure HaVing FuUuN

i literally can’t get cozy

A CHESS SWUARE

listening to him💞 💋

no matches

doesn’t he plant a piece of evidence

yep

they found him

o love when reid comes up behind him

bro kidnapped his future wife

UEAH THEY KILLED SOMEONE OMG

it’s spencer reid’s world we’re just living in it

bro said “sanctimonious” wtf does that mean

“not really” 💞💞💞💞💞

the vest 😫😫💞💞

i don’t think harvey here is going to shanghai anymore he going to jail

SULPHURIC ACID dude that’s insane

LOL REID “i’m sure he’ll send you a postcard”

AWWW REID AND HIS COFFEE

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

spencer reid you’ve made the biggest difference in my life 💘💘💘

AWWWWWW HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCER

lol morgan the way he’s in his 40s now😭

awww him blowing out the candles he looks so happy

the end

MY FAVORITE EPISODE MWAH MY BELOVED 💋💋💋💋

[pelorsdyke]

ronancetober - day twelve: spell [practical magic au, nancy wheeler as sally owens, robin buckley as state investigator gary hallett]

“Did you or your sister kill Jason Carver?” The state investigator asks Nancy, both hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket.

It’s stupid, but Nancy can’t help her instinctual deadpan reply. “Oh, yeah,” she says, leaning back against her kitchen counter. Distantly, she can hear Max and Mike taunting each other, the jingle of her aunt’s wind chimes as the pair race in and out of the porch door. “A couple of times.”

The investigator— Robin, she’d said her name was, insistent when Nancy defaulted to Detective Buckley instead— smirks. Nancy traces the line of her lips with her eyes.

“Nancy,” she begins, the word as hard-fought from the respectful detective as Robin’s own name had been from Nancy, “please. Tell me what you saw.”

“Jason Carver was a no-good shithead of a man, a bully and a bastard, and the worst kind of man, which is to say, one who put his hands on my sister. To be honest, Detective,” Nancy replies, pressing in on the word as she says it, watching Robin roll her eyes with barely constrained pleasure, “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass where he is now.”

It’s true, is the thing. When Nancy had first hit him— and she had been the first, the crunch of her car against his bones somehow a relief even as her mind had started racing through the implications of killing a man— a not exactly small part of her had thought about just leaving him where he was. A hit-and-run, maybe chalked up to his mob connections or violent behavior, letting Jason Carver rot in the woods. Better than he deserved, anyway. But Chrissy had insisted, fearful, that they needed to at least move the body, and once the two of them had hustled him in the car, it had seemed a little stupid to just… what? Bury the body in Joyce’s backyard? Hope no one dug the gardenias up too deeply next year? So they’d done something probably far stupider, if she was honest, and paged carefully through books Nancy had sworn off years ago to find a spell neither of them should’ve even considered casting.

And the second time, to be fair, he’d been a breath away from killing Chrissy. So Nancy had done it, in the end, had killed the man twice, the second time by shattering a pot over his head, and if she was honest, she’d kind of enjoyed it. Nancy didn’t intend to become a murderer, but she did revel some in getting to hand-deliver the comeuppance Carver had deserved, after what he’d put her sister through.

And then, yes, sure, they’d buried him in the garden. Fuck off, okay? Where else were they supposed to do it? Maybe one of their cousins had something resembling a better hiding spot for bodies by their mother’s house, but Nancy wasn’t about to start making calls to ask.

Robin mulls over Nancy’s words for a moment, and Nancy takes the time to observe the woman in front of her. Robin was tall but thin, most of her frame hidden away behind the bulk of her thick jacket and flannel, but where the sleeves were rolled up, Nancy caught a peek of muscled forearms. The detective was no desk jockey, certainly. She’d passed on the coffee Nancy had offered her on coming in, citing that it made her inexplicably sleepy, and had smiled fondly at Max and Mike when they’d scampered by, quietly letting on that they reminded her a bit of herself and her older brother. Nancy isn’t really sure why she’s so determined to hold onto every piece of information about Robin, but the woman is just so intriguing to her. There’s something about her presence at Nancy’s kitchen table, steady even as she thrums with energy, that Nancy can’t stop staring at.

It’s the moment when Robin opens her mouth, actually, that it clicks into place for Nancy. She’s saying something about how she’s certainly not about to deny Nancy’s assessment of the situation, not after chasing Carver across the country following a string of murders, but Nancy is only half-listening. Instead, she’s focused in what might be a semi-intimidating way for Robin on the blue of the woman’s eyes, how they flit between shades as the light changes.

—“And they’re going to have… bright blue eyes! Not like me, but like… like the ocean on a summer day.” Nancy remembers saying, Chrissy listening attentively at her side. “And one of those faces like an old Hollywood movie star, and an older brother who was born into parents who adopted them.”

“Is all of this important?” Chrissy had asked, and Nancy had shrewdly raised an eyebrow, breaking her concentration for only a second.

“Chris, it’s about making somebody impossible. I want to make sure I never fall in love,” Nancy had said, resolute and avoiding the sad curve of Chrissy’s lips in response. “Now shut up! I have to finish. And she’s going to hate coffee because it makes her sleepy instead of waking her up, which makes no sense to her or anyone else—“

“She?” Chrissy had piped in again, and Nancy had felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

“Maybe,” she’d said, defensive and immediate, and her sister had just laughed and wrapped her in a hug, reminding her that they’d always have each other’s backs, no matter what. It was a promise they’d made with blood before Chrissy had run off, but it had been deep in both girls’ souls since long before that.

Nancy comes back to the moment with Robin with a certainty that grips her all the way to her soul. It’s her, she thinks, eyes locked on the cabinet beside her to avoid staring a hole into Robin’s head. Nancy’s magic impossible woman. And she’s doomed her to die.

[scavengerbird]

butterflies

Ms. Novak has a bulletin board behind her desk in her classroom. It’s got all her favorite vacation photos on it. She travels a lot. I guess I would too, if I didn’t have to work summers and I had a husband with a six-figure salary and cousins spread out across Europe.

            My favorite photo is this one she took somewhere in Italy, of this weird, freaky-cool statue. It’s this woman, getting stabbed by an angel with an arrow. Except even though she’s about to get skewered, the woman looks totally blissed out. All these spiky gold pieces come down, I guess they’re supposed to be rays of light. Francesca caught me staring at the picture in class once and asked if the angel was supposed to be Cupid. It’s not. I knew that even before Ms. Novak told us about the story behind it, something about a religious experience, and the kind of love that sets your soul on fire. I don’t think Francesca got it. I did.  

*

The first time I find God, She offers me a cigarette.

            She’s older, strands of grey running through Her dark hair, faint lines around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. She’s leaning against a car parked on the side of the street in front of the empty house two up from mine, half Her body bathed in the pool of yellow from the streetlight.

            I’m walking Scrat, but I stop dead when I see Her. Scrat starts whining, stubby tail flying, his whole little sausage body shaking as he tugs on the end of his leash trying to get over to Her to say Hi. I want to pull him back and call him a traitor, but I’m not sure that would be fair.

            She sets the cigarette She’s been watching burn between Her lips, orange end glowing brighter as She inhales, and crouches down to scratch behind Scrat’s ears. He stops whining as soon as Her fingers brush his fur. I almost tell Her it’s rude to pet other people’s dogs without asking, but I can’t figure out for sure which one of us Scrat belongs to more, technically.

             I’m starting to feel stupid just standing here, staring, so I sit down on the curb to wait. She glances up at me, pulls a pack of cigarettes out from some pocket I didn’t see, or maybe from nothing. I guess She could do that, if She wanted. She offers me the pack and I take one. I’ve never actually smoked before, but I figure She knows that. It’s already lit.

            I can’t help it. “These things’ll kill you, you know.” I’m shooting for cocky, or at least ironic, but my voice cracks. I take a drag and cough.

            She smiles with half her mouth and stands up.

            A car turning onto the street pulls my attention away. It’s Francesca’s dinged up hand-me-down forerunner. I can see her nodding her head in time with whatever’s on the radio through the windshield.

When I look back at God, She may as well have blinked out of existence. Even her earth-rain-woodsmoke scent is gone from the air.

            Francesca tries to pull in behind the car God was leaning against, but she winds up inching her car back-forward-back-forward-back-forward trying and failing to squeeze parallel into the space. I go around the driver’s side and tap on the window. She rolls it down, beaming at me.

            “I’ve almost got it.”

            I shake my head because she definitely doesn’t, and hold up Scrat’s leash; he’s jumped up and put his front paws on the door of the car, yipping at Francesca to come out and pet him. 

“Trade me for the little monster and let me end the suffering of your car and every single one of my neighbors watching out their kitchen windows.”

            She laughs and my chest catches fire. I take another drag of the cigarette I’d almost forgotten about, like I think that will steady something inside me. It doesn’t.

She crinkles her nose. “You smoke now?”

            “Oh. No. I just wanted to see what it was like.” I shrug.

            “And?”

            “It’s kind of gross.”

            She holds her hand out and I pass her the cigarette, watch as she closes her mouth around the imprint my lipstick left on the white paper and inhales. She doesn’t cough, but I’m pretty sure it’s a close thing. She does make a face.

            “You’re right,” she says, smoke leaking out her mouth and dissipating in the air between us, “I don’t like it.”

            She drops the butt of the cigarette on the asphalt and steps on it as she climbs out of her car. Then she takes Scrat back to the sidewalk while I ease her car the rest of the way over to the curb.

            “Don’t pretend you could’ve done that in under five minutes.”

            “Don’t pretend Scrat loves you as much as he loves me,” she shoots back, sticking her tongue out. She’s down on her knees on the ground, rubbing his belly and cooing at him. I sit down next to her and she leans in to rest her head on my shoulder.

            She hums, soft, and I give her a few minutes before I nudge her up and tell her to come inside.

*

 The second time, God takes my picture.

            I’m with Francesca; we’re winding our way through the booths at the dinky school carnival. We slip past a huddle of kids crowded around a dunk tank, trying to soak Ms. Novak. Rows of goldfish are lined on a folding table, their big sad eyes begging me to set them free while a couple of freshman try to land ping pong balls in their bowls. Francesca pulls me along to a food stand and buys us a funnel cake to split. She tries to pour powdered sugar over the plate and misses, dumps white dust down my front. I smear a handful of it across her cheek and down her neck in retaliation and she squeals, laughing into the crook of my arm while she tries to use my sleeve to wipe her face clean.

The camera flash goes off in my face before I see Her. She really comes out of nowhere. She’s hiding behind a beat up silver Nikon and a sweater that must be three sizes too big, but the twist of her mouth is obviously amused.

            Francesca’s face lights up brighter than the flash and I go blind all over again. “Is this for the yearbook?” she asks, wrapping an arm around my waist and leaning in to touch her burning mouth to my cheek for another picture while I’m still blinking and disoriented.

            “Smile,” Francesca whispers.

            “We’re both covered in sugar,” I whisper back.

            The flash goes off one more time, and then God is gone just as quick as She came, whirling away, Her red braid swinging behind Her until She’s swallowed up by the crowd.

            Francesca keeps her arm settled around my waist while we walk through the rest of the carnival.

*

The third time I find God, I’m a little bit tipsy and I try to fistfight Him in the Denny’s parking lot at 4 in the morning. 

            Tonight, God looks like a boy who could be just a year or two older than me. But the dreams in his eyes look like dead things behind glass, museum exhibits, the kind of bones no one knows the names for anymore. He might be a little drunk too. Or high.

            He smiles when I punch Him in the face. Blood drips down from his nose and runs into his mouth, over his teeth. I feel like it should be gold or glowing, like it should look as electric as He feels. But it’s red as mine, where my knuckles are split open. And then Francesca’s dragging me away, trying to apologize to Him and ask what the fuck is wrong with me at the same time, and I let her grab my face to look me in the eye, and when I turn to look back He is gone.

            Francesca takes me back to her house because she doesn’t trust me not to throw up in my sleep and die choking on my own puke, and we both know my parents probably wouldn’t notice if I did. Just like they probably won’t notice the vodka missing from the back of the cabinet. Francesca turns the headlights off at the top of her street and we drive down to her house in the dark, the whole world made of shadows and the sound of our breathing. She leads me by the hand through the back door, careful of my bloodied knuckles.

            She makes me sit on the edge of the kitchen counter while she runs my hand under cool water and dabs at it with gauze and Neosporin, lets me rest my head on her shoulder while she does it, even though it makes the angle awkward and she should be annoyed.

            She helps me take my makeup off before she tucks me into her bed with her and makes sure I’m rolled over on my side. I open and close my mouth four times, trying to tell her I’m in love with her, but no sound is coming out.

*

The fourth time, He’s an old, old man, a blanket wrapped around Him, tucked against the side of the 7/11 between Francesca’s house and mine.

            It’s almost midnight, and I’m on my way home because Francesca’s parents won’t let me spend the night on school nights anymore. Francesca tried to get me to stay anyway, since her parents were already asleep, but she’s on thin ice right now because they found out we skipped school last week to go Prom dress shopping, and I don’t want her to get grounded. At least our dresses look good together.

            God pulls a gnarled hand from His blanket cocoon and pats the ground next to Himself. I look over my shoulder at my car, but it’s not like anyone is waiting up for me at home, so I sit down with a little more distance between us than He indicated. I hold the coffee I just bought a little closer to my chest, trying to let the warmth soak through the paper cup and my clothes.

            I look over at Him, my mouth already open to ask the question that’s been wriggling around inside me since that night in the Denny’s parking lot, when my phone starts chirping Francesca’s ringtone. I fumble to get it out of my pocket.

            “Hey?”

            “Hey. Did you get home ok? You forgot to text.” She sounds like she’s on the edge of falling asleep. My heart makes an ugly mess in my chest, of being touched and guilty at the same time.

            God’s got his one hand still out, raised and pointing up. I look, but it’s just the hazy darkness of the night sky. “Shit. I’m fine. I just stopped at 7/11.”

            “To get what? The whole store? You left like twenty minutes ago.” I think she’d be laughing at me if she had the energy.

            “I got distracted. I was looking at the stars.”

            “Oh my god. You’re adorable.”

Then, as if on cue, 7/11’s power surges and goes out behind me, and I can see the stars. More than I’ve ever been able to before.

            There aren’t any other cars coming down this exit right now, and 7/11’s the only thing back here since the KFC gave somebody salmonella and got closed down. So when the 7/11 goes dark, it’s like every light in the world went out and came back on in the sky.

             I don’t think this is, scientifically, how light pollution is supposed to work.

“Shut up,” I whisper into the phone. My mouth is curved up, and I can’t keep the affection out of my voice.

I look back over at Him and he’s smiling the smallest, loneliest thing I’ve ever seen. I look back up at the stars, ignoring the increasingly frantic 7/11 employees running in and out of the building

“Maya? You still there?”

I stand and stretch. I realize I’ve been the only one sitting against the side of the building for a few minutes now. “I’m heading home now. You don’t have to keep waiting up for me to text. Get some sleep.”

            “Nope. I’ll sleep after you text that you got home safe.”

            I get in my car and turn the heat all the way up. The air might be nearly lukewarm by the time I get home. “I’m five minutes from my house.”

            “You were ten minutes from your house twenty minutes ago. Just text?”

            “I will. I was just-”

            “Great-drive safe-love you.” She hangs up on me.

            My whole body is warmer than it was before she called. I float home, or my car drives itself, because I’m at my house and getting here is a blur. All the windows are dark but when I text Francesca that I’m here she sends me a smiley face and a heart back.         

*

The fifth time, I’m starting to lose count.

Traffic’s crawling along ahead of me, stop-start parking lot slow, and the sun’s slanting through the sky like a spotlight shining straight in my eyes, butter-yellow and blinding. Francesca’s half-asleep in the passenger seat, dazed and dreamy and drooling just a little and I think this is how you know you’re stupid-in-love, when you think their drool is adorable. And God’s talking to me on the radio.

            The voice of God on the FM comes out of my car speakers as something that’s not so much a voice at all, but a sound there’s no name for. Something between music and static, between the thud of bass and a note too high to hear. Wordless.

            I’m not really sure how I understand it. I couldn’t repeat it, or explain or translate or define any of it. It’s just there, echoing around the back of my brain until it sinks in and makes sense on some instinctual level, and then I’m turning the steering wheel left even though the GPS is tripping over itself, telling me to stay on this road for two more miles, recalculating, take exit 24A to turn around, recalculating, recalculating. I’d turn it off, but it’s Francesca’s phone and she’s holding it just far enough away from me I think I’d have to take both hands off the wheel to reach. I swear I can hear something like frustration in Siri’s voice.

            Listening to God hurts, in a good way. My ears start to ache like muscles after exercise. That sort of satisfying soreness that comes from pushing yourself until you find a limit.

When Francesca wakes up, she smiles at me, sleepy and safe, and it makes me sorry when she turns to look out the windshield and the expression melts off her face, confusion taking over.

            She pulls herself fully upright in her seat and peers out at the world rushing by like if she squints she might see the boardwalk, instead a bunch of trees. I think she’s going to say something, and the ringing in my ears is loud enough I’m not sure I’ll be able to hear her. But she just picks up her phone and cancels the GPS route. She raises her eyebrows at me. I shrug and she shrugs back, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement, and a knot in my chest loosens.

She doesn’t ask where we’re going, which is good, because I don’t know.

            Some things just feel unequal.

            “I’m sorry.” My voice sounds distorted; it’s hard to hear myself over the sound of God.

            Francesca sighs, forehead pressed against her window. “You don’t have to apologize.”

            I know she means it, but it still doesn’t feel true. 

            Francesca pulls away from her car door to lean over the center console, close enough that when she tilts her head down, strands of her hair fall around her face and tickled my shoulder. She pinches my arm, lightly.

            “Hey. Maya. I know you can’t look at me because you have to look at the road, but seriously, it’s fine. Okay?”

            I nod, a jerky motion.

            “I just wanna spend the day with you, okay?” She headbutts my shoulder gently before she sits back in her own seat, stealing my right arm and taking it across the gearshift with her.

She holds my hand and traces patterns from the inside of my elbow down to my palm with her fingers until any tension left in my shoulders from this morning has bled out. She points things out as we pass them: a car with its sideview mirror held on by duct tape, somebody’s bike abandoned on the shoulder of the road, spray paint on an overpass. Her voice is light made sound: it hits me like an arrow to the chest.

Skipping was a good idea.

“Why here?” Francesca finally asks, after I park the car.

            “I don’t know.”

            I drove us straight into the middle of a field, a sea of knee-high switchgrass brushing up against my car and swaying a little in the breeze. I’ve got my window down, and something about the gentle rustling sound is strangely soothing.

            She laughs, a quick burst of sound like cool water. “Good thing I meant it when I said it didn’t matter where we went.”

            We’re in the middle of nowhere, nothing but weeds around us, and she doesn’t even care.

            The noise from the radio finally goes quiet.

            Words I’ve been trying to say for weeks flutter out of my mouth like butterflies I’m setting free, and Francesca smiles and leans over the gear shift toward me again.

[turtlemagnum]

today was the day my grandpa retired. he came into work, sat in the break room and talked to everybody who wanted to say goodbye at work all day. he got to see this one regular shopper who always brought her dog, he got to pet her (and so did i, eventually). me and my grandma got there at about 2:30 or so, and stayed until about 4, which is when he got clapped out. i swear, every fucking employee in the company was there, and we all clapped as he passed by. it's weird to say about my goddamn grandpa, but i felt proud of him in that moment. then we went to the bar that they planned his retirement party at. turned out to be a gay bar, which they didn't know when they planned it, but they didn't have a problem with it either. was nice to have a bar i could feel comfortable wearing my pride pins at.

the party felt a bit rough on my end, at the start. shit got crowded quick, and for the first little while they kept sending me out to the car to get one little thing they forgot. but, i got some food in me (which was mostly pretty damn good), and then i started talking to my mom, which led to talking to family members i either hadn't seen for a while or hadn't met at all, which turned out nice. i played darts with someone who turned out to be my little cousin, little gremlin thing was only 14. i had to stop her from getting tetanus, apparently earlier in the month she decided to grab a motherfucking snapping turtle, frankly amazed she's still in one piece. her grandfather was the man who took me to shoot for the first time, so goddamn many years ago. my mom asked him about something gun related and his response gave me the bittersweet revelation that in terms of technical information, i've surpassed him in the intervening years. i can guarantee he's still a better shot than me though, given just a relative lack of experience on my end.

at first i only drank water because the only non-alcoholic drinks the barkeep said she had were non-alcoholic beer and coke products, and given the current boycott i'm trying my best to steer clear from coke products. then my little cousin mentioned she wanted a daiquiri, and apparently they had them available so i got one too (or first, rather, just by sheer luck of the draw). virgin, of course, just like i used to get when i was a little kid. one of the many things that felt nostalgic tonight. karaoke had started, and i saw my grandparents dancing together to a love song, and i felt like crying. it was through a window, but i saw a very special moment. a part of me was envious, for what they have. i'd never tell them that, though.

eventually, the crowd that came for the party started clearing out, and there were a few unrelated people who just came for the karaoke. one was a beautiful woman with an even more beautiful singing voice. my mom really hit it off with her after she sang, though i couldn't hear a word they said due to how loud the music was. the same could be said of my grandparents talking right next to me. i was resting my arm on my grandma's chair, and i felt it wobble from being a bit uneven. i decided to wiggle the chair a bit, which got a smile out of her. something else i remember from earlier was that i talked to my uncle. a bit about him:

he's my grandma's adopted little brother. i mention that he's adopted because he's native. don't know what tribe or anything, he's never mentioned it and frankly, given how he taught us kids words in "indian" i'm not entirely sure he knew either. again, adopted. in terms of raising him my great grandparents did about as good a job as white people living in the 1970s coulda done, frankly. because of that bleeding over into how my grandparents and how my mother raised me, i'd like to think i have a fairly healthy amount of respect and interest in indigenous cultures the world over; especially for somebody whiter than a cracker. so because of him, i don't think i'd be as good a person as i am today without his impact in a somewhat roundabout way, given how we were never the closest or anything. maybe when i was a lot younger, but the years have definitely gone on. and my only regret is that i feel like i can't really communicate how him and his son have impacted who i am as a person.

regardless, i talked with him for a bit. he asked what i was doing with my life, and i mentioned that i've been planning on getting my CDL and becoming a truck driver. he was also a truck driver before he somewhat recently retired, so he gave me a lot of advice, what to expect, what to look for, so on. he mentioned that the biggest downside to trucking is that it gets real lonely, and i said that was fine by me because i'm already a lonely person. he responded saying that it'd be the perfect job for me, then, and empathized with me when i mentioned how shitty that grocery job was. the conversation trailed off after his son, my cousin, came back after paying their bill. he was there with his girlfriend, who started talking about how she wanted to punch the owner dude for how he treated the barkeep lady. i just sorta slinked off from there

a few highlights and notable occurrences of today include: me and my grandma going to the car to be there for my grandpa while it was pouring goddamn buckets, like seriously just a little bit earlier the weather got bad enough that we thought somebody tried to bust open the door at first. being up at the bar with my mom and some guy mentioning that i looked like some guy from the smashing pumpkins(?), with both him and my mom being amazed that i didn't know who they were. he got especially amazed when i mentioned that she was my mom, he just sorta thought we were friends. he pulled up a picture of the guy on his phone and i did see the resemblance in the sense that he was a bald guy with a wide facial structure. one of my relatives i hadn't met before (at least, to my own recollection) wanted to see my eyes, because she wanted to see if i got them from my grandpa. his are blue, mine are hazel. regardless, she said i had beautiful eyes and an even more beautiful smile. really lit up my night, especially after my grandpa mentioned that i usually have beautiful hair too. also led to me having a conversation with the gun grandpa relative guy about how when i was a lot younger, i had my hair a bit longer once and then an old lady i held open a door for called me a "nice young lady" and i immediately shaved it, which he mentioned how he used to be a hippie dude which then went into a whole thing about him struggling with alcoholism and such. after the whole conversation topic had essentially run its course, i mentioned how growing up with my mom i heard a lot about the shit that addiction had done to our family, so i've made sure to never start anything, and i couldn't quite get a read on it but he seemed a bit proud.

at one point my mom was doing karaoke, this was later on in the night. she was doing green day, and she was just bad. had no sense for the flow of the words, no real tune to it, just god awful, it was great. she gestured for me to come up and sing with her, which i denied vehemently, mostly because i knew the song wasn't suited to my voice at all. which, to be fair, it wasn't suited for hers, either, but i actually cared about sounding good. i remembered how many years ago, she told me how much i sucked at singing, and it really hurt my little kid ego. then, a few years back now, back when i had a friend group they all agreed that i had a pretty good singing voice. so when i went up for karaoke, i felt pretty confident in sounding at least decent, albeit anxiety ridden as all hell.

here's the thing about my singing voice. it's not really suited for most of the music i'm really into, much less shit like modern-ish pop or rock or anything like that. i think it's unequivocally best suited for oldies, especially shit like sinatra. so, that's what i went with, and put in blue moon. i had songs from new vegas on the mind, since earlier the guy running the karaoke equipment sang why don't you do right from it presumably to fill the gaps between actual customers wanting to sing. and god dammit, when i got up and grabbed the microphone i was fucking shaking, especially my legs. i was anxious, because i wasn't sure if i was gonna turn out well, and to my relief i did. something i think was one of my better points was my rhythm/timing, i can't say i know the words by heart but i do know the way they're sung deep in my bones. i kept my eyes glued to the lyric screen until the first break in the song, and then i looked at the "crowd" (which, wasn't very many people but still). they all seemed to be genuinely enjoying it, and not at my expense either. something else i'm particularly proud of is how i'd occasionally misspeak (missing?) e.g. saying "flew moon" instead of "blue moon", but i managed to stay almost perfectly in sync with how the song's supposed to go without stopping and going "ah shit", y'know. i definitely know it's an important skill in live performances to be able to just keep on going even if you fuck up, so i'm definitely pretty happy about that.

afterwards i got applause. and like, i had been there for the night, i could definitely tell the polite applause from the "oh shit that was good" applause y'know. i didn't get as much hype as the lady who was an actually good singer, but i could tell that i did a pretty good job. my mom said that i did really good too, and both her and my grandpa congratulated me on having the balls to actually get up there and sing because they know how i am. afterwards my grandpa said he was genuinely impressed, and i know for a fact he'd let it be known that i did a shitty job if i did a shitty job, so that meant a lot. it was, in fact, my first time ever singing karaoke, so despite not being The Best tonight we're all definitely happy with how it turned out. that felt really nice.

it's bittersweet, seeing that he's finally done with this fucking job. he literally had number 1 seniority in the entire company, and this isn't a small company. it's mostly local, but it's big enough that there are a few stores in places like chicago. all of the people he worked with clearly loved him, and i'm glad that i have a grandpa worth being considered "the best boss i've ever had" by so many goddamn people. we had people who he hadn't even worked with in years, who moved to other jobs or other stores, they all came just to show how much they loved him. i'm glad he's so loved, i love him too. i just hope he doesn't go fucking insane from being home so damn much. tonight was a good night