#this song has been stuck in my head all week i hope this will act as some kind of offering to the lyrical gods and i will be free hencefort

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt.4

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ hope y'all enjoy the new chapter! appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten so far for my last few chapters! makes me soooo excited to post even more and more! so sorry for the late upload though, school has been CRAZY and i was lowkey spiraling because of this new guy i was talking to but yeah ENJOYYY ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

wcજ⁀➴ 7.5k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie @higuchislut @domilovestoru @aishies-stuff @genxnarumi @username23345 PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Two weeks had passed, and Gojo Satoru was a ghost in your life. Not literally, of course—his presence was hard to miss, especially since you still caught glimpses of him with Mina—but the days when he’d linger outside your band practice or wait for you by the bleachers during his hockey drills were long gone.

Instead, his world seemed to orbit around Mina now. He was always meeting her, whether before or after his own practice. The few times you had decided to sit in the bleachers and watch him, hoping he’d wave you over for a laugh or even just a chat, he’d merely sent a casual wave in your direction before rushing to Mina.

By the third time, you decided he wouldn���t miss your absence. Mina was there to take your place.

Now, here you were, stuck in the middle of band practice. The studio walls felt too tight today, and even though the air was filled with the rhythmic clash of drums, the heavy hum of the bass, and the soaring melody of your guitar, the energy in your chest was mismatched.

Your phone sat on the edge of the amp, its screen glaring at you with an all-too-familiar sight: an unread message to Gojo. Delivered. Not even read.

It stung more than you cared to admit, but you knew better than to let it show. You didn’t own him. He didn’t owe you anything.

You shook the thought from your head as the band kicked into another song. This time, you focused.

The song flowed easily under your fingers, each note falling into place with effortless precision. Your hands moved like they had a mind of their own, strumming, pressing, and pulling out the right chords without a second thought.

You hit every note perfectly, the rhythm steady, the melody crisp—technically flawless. But something was off. The music, despite its perfection, felt wrong.

Instead of the light, airy feel the song was meant to have, each strum was laced with tension, harsh and biting, like a storm trapped in a song meant for sunshine. The melody should have danced, should have lifted the mood, but instead, it thundered through the room, loud and jagged. Every note you played was sharp, angry, as though you were trying to fight something—only it wasn’t the song you were supposed to be playing anymore.

The guitar hummed with your frustration, but it wasn’t the kind of emotion the song was supposed to evoke. It was heavy. It was out of place. It was angry. And as you continued, the gap between the song and your soul seemed to widen.

“You’re playing too hard,” Choso called over the final note, his drumsticks resting on the snare. His voice cut through the distorted noise of your thoughts, pulling you back to reality, but only slightly.

You lowered your guitar, chest rising and falling with the weight of the tension still clinging to you. His words didn’t quite register at first—until you looked up, meeting his steady gaze. His brow furrowed, and for the briefest second, you could have sworn he saw right through you, saw past the perfect notes and into the tangled mess inside.

“I hit all the notes, didn’t I?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. You didn’t want to look weak, but you couldn’t help it. The question hung in the air, a challenge disguised as doubt. Your fingers still tingled from the aggressive strumming, the burn of the misplaced energy lingering.

“You did,” Yu chimed in from the keyboard. “But it’s not… you. It’s like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Like you’re following a script,” Choso finished, his dark eyes steady on you. “Instead of playing from the heart.”

Their words hit harder than you expected, stirring a frustration you weren’t ready to face. Before you could snap back, your hand slipped during the next strum. The string bit into your finger, sharp and unforgiving.

“Ah, shit,” you muttered, pulling back as blood welled up on your finger.

Iori, who had been watching from her spot near the mic, immediately stepped away, her voice cutting through the tension. “Break time,” she called, her tone more serious than usual. The mic stand clinked softly as she set it down and moved toward you.

You blinked, still reeling from the sting in your finger. The blood dripped slowly, mixing with the burn of your frustration. Iori was already moving toward the back of the room, opening a cabinet for the first aid kit.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, but still carrying that steady assurance.

You didn’t answer right away, just watched as she grabbed the kit and walked back over. The room felt strangely quiet without the hum of the music, the weight of their words still hanging in the air. Your hand felt heavy, the cut sharp but not unbearable.

Iori knelt in front of you, gently taking your hand in hers. “Let me see.” Her fingers brushed lightly against your skin as she cleaned the wound. It wasn’t painful, but the act was grounding, calming, almost too much after the storm inside you. You had to look away, feeling the sharp edges of your emotions settle, just for a second.

“You really gotta stop playing so hard,” Iori murmured, her gaze flickering up to meet yours. There was a faint smirk on her face, but there was something else too—understanding, maybe. She didn’t press the issue, though. Instead, she simply wrapped the cut with care, her voice softening. “You’re not gonna get anything out of this if you keep forcing it.”

Her words stuck with you, hanging in the air even as she finished tending to your finger. The sharpness of the cut seemed to mirror the tension inside you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of understanding in the quiet aftermath. You weren’t just playing with your fingers; you were playing with your heart, and it had all gotten twisted up somewhere along the way.

Iori finished wrapping your finger, her hands gentle as she tended to the cut, but you didn’t feel the same sense of calm you usually did when she was around. Everything felt off, jagged, like even the simplest act was just another reminder of how out of sync you were with yourself. She stepped back, giving you some space, but the words she’d said lingered in the air.

The moment stretched, but you barely noticed it, too lost in your own head. Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw Naoya walking over with a drink in hand. He didn’t say anything at first, just tossed you the can like it was a casual gesture, but you could feel his eyes on you—assessing, calculating.

You caught it without looking, but your fingers felt sluggish, the weight of the can nothing compared to the weight you were carrying. You cracked it open slowly, the fizz rising and popping in the quiet. But it didn’t help.

Naoya sat down next to you, his posture as rigid and sharp as always, but his gaze never left you. There was an uncomfortable intensity in the way he studied you, the usual mockery and sharp edges of his smirk replaced by something a little less abrasive.

He leaned back, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if searching for something deeper than the surface.

“What’s bothering you now?” he asked, the words more direct than you expected, his voice stripped of any sarcasm or playfulness. “Last time you were like this was two weeks ago, remember? And I don’t think I need to tell you that you don’t exactly have a good track record when you start shutting down.”

His words hit like a cold splash of water, a reminder of the pattern you were stuck in. You had been here before, trapped inside your head, not sure how to get out. It didn’t matter that this time it felt different—like the frustration wasn’t just with the music anymore, but with everything around you, everything inside you. Naoya knew better than to let you avoid the question.

You didn’t answer right away, running your thumb along the lip of the can absentmindedly. The bubbles inside hissed in your ears, but the sound only reminded you of the noise in your own head.

Then, as the silence stretched, Nanami spoke up from his spot across the room, his usual calm voice cutting through the stillness.

“You know, ignoring it won’t help,” he said, his tone more matter-of-fact than anything else. “Whatever this is, bottling it up just makes it worse. You’re not exactly subtle when something’s eating at you.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look up, too tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Your mind raced, too much noise in your head to form a solid answer.

“I… I don’t really know,” you said finally, the words slipping out more honestly than you intended. You shook your head, frustration leaking through your voice.

You sat there in silence, the words hanging in the air. The frustration still churned inside you, a gnawing feeling that didn’t seem to go away no matter how many times you tried to shake it off. It wasn’t just the music. It wasn’t just the cut on your finger. It was everything that had been building up inside you, everything that you hadn’t been able to say or figure out.

Gojo. That name echoed in your mind, but even thinking it made your chest tighten, a knot forming deep in your stomach. It was him—his presence, his expectations, the weight of his shadow that seemed to be clouding everything. You couldn’t put it into words, not here, not now. Not in front of them. But damn, you just wished you could hear his voice. Maybe then, things would feel a little clearer. Maybe just hearing him tell you it was going to be okay would make the world feel less heavy.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder. You looked up, surprised to find Iori watching you, her eyes softer than usual, like she could sense the wall you were putting up.

Without a word, she clasped her hands together and stood up, her movements calm and purposeful. “You know what? Let’s call it a night. Why don’t we order some food and just chill? No pressure, no rehearsing. Just take it easy this time around.”

Her words were simple, but the way she said them felt like a release, like an invitation to let go of the tension that had been creeping up in the room.

You felt the weight of your own silence, the words swirling in your chest that you couldn’t quite voice. Maybe you were being unfair, maybe you were letting everything pile up inside you when they didn’t deserve it. The guilt hit you like a wave, and before you could stop it, you found yourself speaking.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I’ve been... off, I guess.” The words came out clumsy, but they felt necessary. Like if you could just say them, it might ease the tension that had been building inside you for so long.

The room felt quieter as you looked around, but instead of a wave of understanding or sympathy, Choso’s voice cut through, calm and unfazed.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said with his usual nonchalance, leaning back in his seat. His eyes flickered toward you, but there wasn’t any judgment in them, just an effortless coolness. “Everyone has their moments. No big deal.”

He shrugged, looking more like he couldn’t care less, but the ease in his tone made the guilt inside you settle just a little.

“You’re still here, right? That’s what matters.” His words were blunt, but they had a way of hitting exactly where they needed to. No overthinking, no grand speeches. Just... simple reassurance.

You let out a small breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t so terrible to be like this every once in a while. You weren’t perfect, and neither were they. And that, for some reason, made it all feel a little more manageable.

“Thanks,” you said, the words lighter now, like a burden had shifted off your shoulders.

Iori gave a small, approving nod as you finally relaxed, her smile soft but reassuring. “So, what are we having?”

────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After the food had been devoured, the room was filled with the casual noise of packing up and cleaning up the last bits of the mess. The rest of the crew had already begun to pack up, their laughter and chatter a distant hum as they gathered their things and said their goodbyes. The studio, once filled with the warmth of conversation and the sound of instruments, now felt quieter. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing midnight, and everyone was ready to call it a night.

You waved them off, telling them you’d close up the studio. The others didn’t seem to mind, already heading out the door with tired smiles and promises to meet at the next session. As the last of them disappeared down the hallway, you stood there in the silence, the door clicking shut behind them.

The studio was empty now, save for the soft hum of the lights above. You set your bag down on the couch, the familiar weight of it suddenly feeling too much. But instead of heading home like you probably should have, you took a deep breath and made your way over to your instrument.

The band had been more than patient with you, more than understanding as you struggled through each practice, trying and failing to get things right. The pressure had been mounting—the gig was right around the corner, and you still hadn’t found your rhythm. But every time you messed up, they were there with encouraging words, with reassurances that you’d get it, that they knew you could.

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you stood there in the quiet studio, staring at your instrument. They could’ve been frustrated with you. They had every right to be. But instead, they were kind, patient, and supportive, letting you take your time. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being better, for not meeting their expectations, for not being as good as they believed you were capable of being.

You let the thoughts settle in your mind, but then, as quickly as they came, you shook them away. There was no point in dwelling on what you couldn’t change right now. What mattered was what came next.

You couldn’t take their patience for granted. You couldn’t let them down again. The gig was coming, and you had to be better.

With a steadying breath, you picked up your instrument. The room seemed to fade around you as you closed your eyes, tuning out everything except the steady pulse of your heartbeat and the strings beneath your fingers.

You began to play, your fingers moving over the strings with a gentler touch than before. The aggression was gone, replaced by a quieter intensity. It felt better, more in tune with the mood you wanted to create, but something was still missing. There was a void, a note that you couldn’t reach, a spark that wouldn’t ignite no matter how many times you strummed. The frustration lingered, swirling inside you, gnawing at your concentration.

And just as the frustration began to settle into something heavier, your phone vibrated sharply against the floor where you had tossed it earlier. Startled, you paused mid-strum and glanced over. The name on the screen caught you off guard.

Gojo.

You stared at the caller ID for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flutter in your chest. What was he calling for? Was it... was it really him? You hesitated, fingers still lingering on the strings, unsure of whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail.

It had been so long since you’d heard his voice, but you didn’t know if you were ready to face it yet. You knew you couldn’t keep running from this, but... this? Right now?

The phone vibrated again in your hand, urging you to decide.

You took a deep breath and answered, your voice shaky as you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice came through, smoother than usual, but there was something about it that felt more serious this time. “I’m downstairs. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You froze, eyes darting to the door like you could somehow see him on the other side. Downstairs? You weren’t sure you’d heard him right.

“Wait... what?” you said, your voice wavering slightly. “You’re downstairs?”

“Yeah,” Gojo responded, his tone firmer now, like he wasn’t messing around. “Come down. I’ll be waiting.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to show up out of the blue like this. You looked at your phone, still processing the strange urgency in his voice.

“Uh, alright,” you said, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves. “I’ll be there in a second.”

You hung up quickly, set your guitar down, and grabbed your things, moving with more haste than you had anticipated. The tension in the pit of your stomach only grew as you locked up the practice room and made your way down the hall. Something in his tone had shifted, and it made the usual teasing Gojo feel distant—more... serious.

You rushed down the stairs, the echo of your footsteps against the walls reminding you how quickly everything had shifted. When you finally rounded the corner, you saw him standing by the door, his posture straighter than usual. The smirk was gone, replaced by a focused intensity in his eyes that you rarely saw.

He didn’t greet you with his usual grin or playful jab. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze unwavering. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice almost too calm. “Let’s go.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you were in way over your head. But there was no turning back now.

The walk was quiet, but the silence felt different this time. Gojo’s usual cocky confidence was replaced with an almost tangible tension in his posture. He walked with purpose, his strides long and quick, but there was a tightness in the way he carried himself that you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like him to be this... off. He always wore that smug grin, that careless energy that made everything feel like a joke. But now? He looked like he was carrying something heavy, something too complicated to shake off.

You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you knew better. If Gojo didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t going to. You could tell that much, even with the unease simmering beneath his usually cool exterior.

You both reached the convenience store, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh as you entered. The familiar hum of the coolers and the bright fluorescent lights did little to ease the tension hanging between you. You found a seat near the back, not really feeling hungry or in the mood to browse, so you just sat there, hands folded in your lap, eyes following Gojo as he wandered over to the drinks section.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, expecting him to grab his usual—his go-to strawberry iced tea, the one he always joked about being his secret weapon—but to your surprise, his hand reached for something different. He grabbed a can of beer, the silver can catching the dim light as he turned towards the cashier.

Your brows furrowed slightly, not because you had a problem with it, but because it was so out of character for him. Gojo, the always-lighthearted, playful figure, wasn’t someone you expected to be reaching for alcohol, especially not when the atmosphere had been so... different tonight.

He returned to the seat next to you after quickly paying for the drink, the cool can in his hand now making a soft, faintly metallic sound as he cracked it open. The hiss of the carbonation was the only sound between you two for a few moments as he took a long drink, the beer slipping past his lips without the usual playful smirk that usually accompanied any of his actions.

You hesitated, the air thick with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you should say something or just let him be, but you could feel that something was wrong—something deeper than whatever lighthearted banter he would usually throw your way. You’d known him long enough to see when something was off. Tonight, it was impossible to ignore.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You turned toward him, your voice quiet but laced with concern. “What’s going on with you, Satoru?”

He didn’t immediately respond, the can still in his hand as he stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in a thin line as if he was weighing his words. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick with anticipation. Then, as though he couldn’t keep it inside any longer, he muttered just one word:

"Mina."

It was soft, almost lost in the distance of the moment. But hearing it—the way it left his lips so raw, so fragmented—sent a jolt through you. This wasn’t the playful Gojo you knew. This was someone who was struggling, someone who didn’t have all the answers.

You blinked, the name hanging in the air like a strange weight. Mina. You’d thought the two of them were the perfect couple. They had that effortless chemistry, the kind of bond that seemed unshakable. Gojo and Mina—it just made sense. They were the kind of pair people would look at and say, "That’s it. They’re meant to be." And yet, hearing Gojo say that name now, in the quiet of this moment, felt like a crack in a carefully built illusion.

You hadn’t expected this. The way he said it, though... so quiet, so far removed from his usual confident, teasing tone, made you pause. You’d never once imagined that Gojo—someone so composed, so unflappable—could be this thrown off by a relationship. It was unsettling to think that things might not be as perfect as they appeared.

Before you could gather your thoughts to ask what had happened, Gojo let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was already exhausted by the very thought of explaining. “It’s complicated,” he said, cutting off any further questions you might have had.

You could tell from the way he said it, with that tired edge in his voice, that this wasn’t something simple. It wasn’t just an argument or a misunderstanding. There was more beneath the surface—something tangled up in emotions and expectations that Gojo clearly didn’t know how to untangle.

He took another sip from the can, his fingers tight around it once more, like he was trying to hold onto something before it slipped away.

"Tell me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension creeping up your spine. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me."

He looked at the can in his hands for a long moment, his fingers white-knuckled around it. The weight of silence hung heavy in the air before he finally spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“It’s not that she’s done anything wrong,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. “She’s... a good girlfriend. She hasn’t done anything bad, nothing’s wrong with her.”

He let out a frustrated breath, eyes narrowing as he traced the rim of the can with his thumb. “But... it’s like something’s missing. Like, when I first met her, I thought I saw something, you know? There was this... feeling, like we clicked or something. But now, every time I’m with her, it feels... off. It’s not her fault, she’s not doing anything different, it’s just—” He trailed off, searching for the words, but they just wouldn’t come.

He let out a quiet laugh, self-deprecating and bitter. “Maybe I built some kind of... fantasy around her, and now that I’m seeing who she really is, it doesn’t line up. I thought it was something real, but now... I’m not sure.”

You could see it, the confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t blaming her—he wasn’t even sure what was wrong, but the discomfort was there, thick and undeniable. It wasn’t that Mina had changed, but that Gojo’s perception of her had cracked, leaving him to figure out if there was anything left of what he thought was there.

You took a slow breath, trying to find the right words as you watched him wrestle with himself. You could tell this was weighing heavily on him, and it wasn’t just about Mina—it was about Gojo grappling with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure how to explain even to himself.

You leaned back slightly, your voice soft but steady. “I get it,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “When you first meet someone, it’s easy to get swept up in the feeling of it all—the excitement, the newness. And maybe... maybe you started seeing things in her that you wanted to see, or that felt right in the moment.”

You paused, allowing him to process, before continuing. “But just because you’re feeling like things aren’t clicking now, doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause. Sometimes, when we’re with someone, we get so focused on the idea of them that we forget to focus on who they really are. And maybe that's what’s throwing you off—you’re seeing the real her now, and it’s different from the image you had in your head.”

You could see the tension in his face, but you pressed on, keeping your tone gentle. “It’s not a bad thing, Gojo. People aren’t perfect, and relationships are never just about the spark you feel at the beginning. The real connection, the deep stuff, that comes over time. Maybe it’s just a matter of slowing down and letting things evolve naturally, instead of forcing them into some mold you’ve created.”

You shifted slightly, choosing to be honest with him. “It sounds like you’re scared of being disappointed or realizing that it’s not what you thought, but maybe you just need time to figure out who she really is, and who you are with her. You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s okay.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Just don’t give up too soon because of some uncomfortable feelings. If you’re both willing to figure it out, it doesn’t have to be the end of something good. Sometimes it takes work to get through the doubts and see what’s really there.”

Gojo leaned back, his gaze drifting once more as if the answer was just beyond his reach. His hands rested loosely on his knees, the can in his hand now forgotten. His tone was quiet, almost tentative, as he finally spoke.

Gojo sat in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor as he processed your words. The usual intensity in his expression was softened, like he was turning over each of your points in his mind, carefully weighing them. His hands, once tense around the can, were now resting in his lap, fingers loosely intertwined as if the weight had lifted, even just slightly.

You could feel the shift, the way his posture had changed. He was listening—not just hearing—but truly taking in what you were saying. He took a deep breath, his shoulders easing as he finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a flicker of clarity in his eyes, though the storm wasn’t fully gone yet.

“I get it,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I understand where you're coming from. You're right. Maybe I’ve been too focused on this idea I had about her, this... perfect picture I painted in my head. And now that it’s not lining up, it’s throwing me off. I’m just... I guess I was expecting things to be a certain way, and now it feels like I’m not even sure where I stand anymore.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze drifted down again, looking almost lost in thought. “I know you’re right. I can’t expect everything to be perfect, and I shouldn’t be so quick to judge her for not matching whatever image I had. But—” He paused, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

"But..." you prompted gently, knowing there was more he was holding back.

Gojo’s eyes flicked to you, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty crossing his features. “But… I’m just not sure if she’s the one,” he said, his voice trailing off like he was unsure even about admitting it to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you for a moment, as if the words felt too heavy.

“It’s not like I don’t care about her. I do. And she’s a good person. She’s been nothing but kind to me, and we get along well enough. But... I don’t know. It’s just this nagging feeling I can’t shake. Like, maybe we’re not as compatible as I thought we were. Like, something’s missing.” He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the ground for a long moment.

He looked up at you then, his expression conflicted. “I don’t want to keep second-guessing myself, but at the same time... I don’t want to lead her on if I’m not sure. I don’t want to be the guy who’s just going through the motions, thinking it’ll work out, when deep down I’m not sure if we’re actually right for each other. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

He glanced at you with a bit of vulnerability in his eyes, a rare sight for Gojo. “I mean, I don’t want to keep dragging her into something if I’m not sure I can give her what she needs. And I can’t help but wonder if... if I’m just waiting for something that isn’t there.”

He let the silence linger for a beat before he shook his head, running a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s just... am I really feeling what I thought I was? Or was it just... a good idea in my head?”

You hesitated, unsure of the right thing to say, because this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation you were used to dealing with. Gojo was always so confident, so sure of himself, and now, seeing him so lost—it felt unfamiliar and honestly, a little overwhelming.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure how to ease his tension. You knew that you couldn’t just throw out words of wisdom like it was all simple, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t simple for him, and you didn’t want to make it worse by trying to give advice that sounded too rehearsed.

After a long pause, you spoke, trying to find a balance between understanding and honesty. “I mean, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s not like I have the answers for this kind of stuff.” You let out a soft, nervous laugh, realizing that you weren’t exactly the expert here.

“But...” You trailed off, trying to gather your thoughts. “You’re not alone in feeling confused about this. Relationships are messy, and sometimes, it’s hard to know what the right thing is. What you’re feeling—doubt, uncertainty—it’s not abnormal. It’s just... part of figuring things out.”

You fidgeted a little, glancing down at your hands. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... it’s okay not to have all the answers. I think you just need to give yourself permission to take a step back. Maybe let it go a bit slower, without all the pressure to know if it's ‘the one’ right away. And if something’s still unclear, then... you can figure it out. It doesn’t have to be right or wrong all at once.”

You looked up at him again, your voice softer. “It’s just, don’t feel like you have to have it all figured out right now. I’m not sure if that helps or anything, but... that’s the best I got.”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, taking everything in, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your words had actually made any impact. But then he turned to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t his usual teasing grin, but something softer, almost relieved.

“Man, look at you getting all deep and philosophical. Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Shut up,” you muttered, trying to act like you weren’t completely embarrassed by the whole thing. “I’m just trying to help, okay?”

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you reacted. “I know, I know. But seriously, I didn’t think you were the ‘advice-giving’ type. I’ll be honest, that was a little... sappy.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at him, though you could feel the warmth on your cheeks. “Well, maybe you need it. You act like you have everything figured out, but look at you now—getting all lost in your own head.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sappy, but helpful. Can’t deny that. But don’t let it go to your head.”

You looked at him, now slightly less flustered, and offered a small smile. “Yeah, well, I’m just saying... Sometimes things aren’t as simple as we want them to be. It’s okay not to have everything figured out right away. Relationships take time.”

Gojo met your eyes, his expression more thoughtful now, and he let out a long breath. “Yeah... I guess I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself to have it all figured out. Thanks for the reminder.” His smile came back, softer this time. “You’ve got a point. Maybe I do need to take a step back and just see where it goes.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease now. “It’s not a race, ‘Toru. Don’t rush it. Just let things happen as they do.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, before Gojo broke it, his tone still teasing but less guarded.

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to take it slow, philosopher,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but the tension had definitely eased. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t get all sappy on me again.”

Gojo grinned, clearly in a better place than before. “I’ll try to spare you from that. But hey, next time you drop some deep wisdom on me, I’ll be ready.”

You flushed a little again but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push it, Gojo.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

As the two of you walked back home, the air between you had shifted. The tension that had lingered for so long was finally gone, replaced by a quiet comfort that settled over both of you. You found yourself walking in step with Gojo, the rhythm of your footsteps syncing naturally as you let the silence between you stretch, not feeling the need to fill it with words.

Now that the weight of the conversation had lifted, you allowed your gaze to wander to him, something you hadn’t done too openly before.

There was something almost disarming about Gojo when the playful edge in his voice softened, when he wasn’t in “Gojo mode.” His features, though still sharp and striking, held a kind of warmth that you hadn’t expected to see, a rawness that only revealed itself in moments like this—when he was being real with you.

His eyes, usually full of that mischievous glint, looked calmer now, more reflective, and as the light from the streetlamps caught his hair, it almost seemed to glow with an ethereal quality. The way he carried himself, effortlessly cool yet undeniably human, made you pause and just take him in, appreciating him for a moment. His presence felt different now—less overwhelming and more... grounding.

And then, as if on cue, you caught yourself smiling, soft and almost wistful. It was strange, the way just being near him—hearing his voice, feeling the quiet ease that had settled between you—seemed to heal something inside you, something you hadn’t even realized was aching until it started to fade away.

It was like the weight of the world didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Like, somehow, everything felt a little more manageable in the moment.

You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment a little longer, the quiet warmth between you two still lingering as you walked the rest of the way home. But even as you let yourself bask in the calm, a part of you couldn't fully relax. Deep down, you knew this wasn't something that would last long. Gojo had been here tonight because of his issue with Mina, and once that was sorted out, you figured things would go back to how they were before—back to the teasing, playful banter and the walls he'd built up around himself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy this version of him, the one that was more genuine, more grounded—it was just that you knew the reality. Once he figured things out with Mina, he’d go back to being the Gojo everyone knew. And you’d go back to being just... you.

You reached the front door of your apartment, the familiar hum of the city in the background, and paused. Turning to face Gojo, you smiled, though the weight of your thoughts lingered in the back of your mind.

"Thanks for walking me home," you said, keeping your voice light, though there was a little more softness to it than usual.

Gojo looked at you, his usual playful grin starting to creep back, but there was something different in his eyes. A flicker of sincerity from earlier still hung there. "Of course," he said with a casual shrug. "What would I do if you got caught up in some crazy situation without me? You know I can’t let that happen."

His voice was light, but the way he said it carried an undercurrent of care, something unspoken that made the words feel warmer than they usually would.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to help a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure I could manage, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He shot you that signature grin, the one that could charm just about anyone, but there was still a softness to it now—an openness that didn’t quite match his usual carefree demeanor.

"Hey, I’m just saying," he said with a smirk, "if you ever need a bodyguard, you know where to find me."

Despite the playfulness in his tone, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on both of you. The reality of the situation, of his relationship with Mina, still lingered in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—this brief, real side of Gojo—might slip away once everything was sorted out.

You pushed the thought down and smiled, trying to keep the mood light. "I’ll keep that in mind," you replied, though part of you wasn’t sure you’d ever need him that way.

There was a brief pause, and then you cleared your throat, pulling yourself back into the present. "I really do hope things work out with Mina, Satoru," you said, your voice sincere. "You deserve to get everything figured out."

Gojo’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Mina. It wasn’t the usual teasing grin anymore, but something softer, more thoughtful, as though the thought of her pulled him out of the moment for a second.

He reached up, almost absentmindedly, to ruffle your hair, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. “You worry too much,” he said, his voice a little quieter, his fingers running through your hair in a playful but gentle motion.

You flinched, swatting his hand away lightly. “Satoru, come on, you’re messing it up.”

Gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, but instead of pulling his hand away, he kept it there, his fingers still resting on your head. He gave you a gentle pat this time, his touch light but lingering, almost like he didn’t want to break the moment just yet.

He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, as if there was something in his gaze that wasn’t quite matching his usual carefree attitude. For a split second, the usual playful energy around him seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Despite how many times Gojo had been touchy with you before, this time was different. His gaze felt heavier, more intense, and it made you feel uncomfortably aware of the way his hand rested on you. A soft heat spread through you, and before you knew it, your cheeks were flushing, the warmth creeping up your neck.

Then, almost absentmindedly, Gojo’s hand dropped from your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin beneath your eye. You froze at the touch, your breath catching in your throat as the tender motion sent a shiver down your spine.

His touch was so gentle, so unexpectedly intimate, that it left you momentarily speechless. Gojo’s thumb continued its slow, soothing stroke over your cheek, his eyes still locked onto yours, watching the way your expression shifted.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the night, the world around you, even the uncertainty that had been lingering in the air. It was just him, just you, and the quiet tension that seemed to wrap itself around the both of you, neither of you daring to move or speak.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race, unsure of what this moment meant or how to react to it. You’d never felt quite so exposed in front of him, as if his touch and gaze were pulling something out of you that you didn’t know was there.

Gojo’s smile was still soft, his eyes not leaving yours, but there was something about the way he looked at you—something different than before. A strange vulnerability, maybe, or perhaps just a shared moment of silence that neither of you had the words to explain.

And for a heartbeat, everything felt... unsettled, as though the line between what was familiar and what was new had blurred just enough to make you question whether you were still in control of the situation.

You broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness like a soft breeze. “Satoru?”

The sound of your voice seemed to snap Gojo out of whatever trance he had been in. His eyes blinked rapidly, as though he were shaking himself back to reality, and the softness that had filled the air between you suddenly wavered.

Gojo blinked rapidly, his eyes shifting as if he were suddenly realizing what had just occurred. His hand pulled away from your cheek like it was almost burning, and he stepped back, an almost startled expression crossing his face. The teasing, playful demeanor faltered for a second, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes—not just from you, but perhaps from the moment itself.

"Ah... sorry," he muttered quickly, running a hand through his hair in an awkward gesture that didn’t quite match his usual calm. “Didn’t mean to... uh... get so close.”

He cleared his throat, visibly trying to regain his usual composure. With a shaky smile, he waved his hand as if brushing it off. "Anyway, I should get going."

You nodded, a strange tightness in your chest. He was already backing away, his voice lighter than before but with a hint of haste in it. "Take care, alright?" His tone was almost clipped, a sharp contrast to the softness that had lingered moments before.

You wanted to say something, to stop him, but the words got stuck in your throat. You simply watched as Gojo, with one last glance over his shoulder, turned and started walking down the hallway.

He didn't look back this time, his figure disappearing into the distance and then into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind him with a soft, almost final sound.

The quietness that followed felt almost suffocating, the cool night air filling the space where he had stood. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had just been, unsure of what to make of everything. Your heart was still racing, the lingering touch on your cheek echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

As the sound of the elevator faded away, all you were left with was the lingering memory of him, his touch, his gaze—and the sudden weight of everything unsaid.

[sylvanpriest]

[starrdevereauxx]

I said last time would be the last time.

Brandon broke up with me 6 months ago. I’ve been a wreck for weeks on end. I promised myself to get over it, but it’s been such a hard thing to process. We would always fight, make up, make love and act like nothing ever happened. He was gone this time. This was the longest we ever been apart.

I try to find things to do to pass the time, but nothing ever seems to take my mind off him. I still smell him, breathe him, and feel him through my body. Our mutual friends always give messages about him, but I’ve been ignoring them lately. My heart can’t take listening to his name, let alone hearing of any accomplishments.

I need to run my errands today, but like everyday I become sad running them alone. We did everything together, after 6 years I can’t believe that we don’t do this anymore.

Heading to the grocery store I become sad with my list of groceries for one instead of two. I hop in my car and turn on “our” playlist. Hoping I can borrow a feeling from any song that plays. Another slow song begins to play and I’m seeing myself in the mirror. Envisioning him touching me, wishing my hands were his. Rubbing the side of my face, choking me ever so lightly. I literally just felt my pussy drip at this light.

“Get it together Dev” I say trying to convince myself that I’m over him. Knowing damn well I’m not. I can feel him inside my pussy when I think about him. The feeling intensifies with every breath I take.

I gather myself to go inside of the store, with my lonely list of single items. Looking at the list I just remember every single meal I ever made for him. Pouring my heart into each meal, now I can only make food for myself. I sob gathering myself for this lonely trip.

I walk through the store, gathering each item reluctantly. Wishing we were laughing together, talking about what we gonna pretend to watch on Netflix when we got back home. Saying pretend because it we wouldn’t make it pass the opening credits without his chocolate snicker veined dick engorged in my throat. He would be gagging me before we knew the name of the movie.

After looking at my cart, I figured I deserved a treat. I tried to maintain a healthy cart since I’m single, I need to stay in shape. The most physical activity I get is the gym these days, so I had to maintain some resemblance of care in my food intake. But with all the crying that I’ve been doing, today I deserve a treat. I decided to head back to the ice cream isle and help myself to something to lift my spirits.

As I walk to the back of the store with my headphones on, I’m letting Chris Brown sing me to a happy place. I almost begin to get a spring in my step as he’s talking about fucking someone back to sleep.

I make it to the ice cream section and I immediately look for Ben & Jerry’s tasty ass. I see it, straight ahead “Chunky Monkey”. I move my cart out of the way to reach for it. As I get ready to reach for the pint, I feel some thing grab me, startled I think I’m in trouble for climbing inside the refrigerator. Moving my headphones so I can hear, a deep, smoldering voice says

“that’s still your favorite ice cream I see, even though I also remember that your monkey was the only chunky I ever wanted”.

I’m fucking stuck. There’s only one voice I know that sounds like that, and my pussy dripping is letting me know exactly who it is.

“Brandon, oh wow. It’s crazy seeing you here. How are you?” I gulp nervously.

“You look good Dev, time has been good to you. But then again when has it not?” Brandon says as he looks at me like he’s about to take my throat from me right here in this store.

As I prepare to answer him, someone loudly over talks me.

“Babe, BABE.. do you want movie popcorn or kettle corn?” I turn to see a bubbly perky breasted young lady yelling to her significant other about popcorn. I turned back around to see if I see him, just for my heart to sink as I realize that there’s nobody here but me and Brandon here. She’s talking to him. Oh my God, he has a girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, I was just trying to get a hold of my fiancé, I didn’t mean to bump you, my apologies” she smiles.

“Kettle Corn baby, thank you” he replies.

She skips off to honor his request. I stand there putting my broken heart back in my chest, not making it obvious that I’m literally breaking apart inside. FIANCÉ!?!? What in the fuck is this? After 6 years together, he never asked me to marry him. I’m even more convinced that it was never going to be me.

“Well congratulations to you and your fiancé, you deserve happiness. Be well Brandon.” I say tearfully as I run off, forgetting my ice cream. At this point I just want to disappear.

I get to the register, pay for my items and hurry to my car.

It was a long walk to my car. I always parked far from stores because I loved to get my steps in. Every step counts to me. So I had enough time to cry myself to the car and be over it by the time I started my car.

I open my trunk and back seat to place my purse down as I organize my groceries in the back, just incase if I needed room for a surprise bullseye store trip. I think after that encounter, I deserve some retail therapy now.

As I near the finish of my organization, I feel someone tap me from behind and say “I thought we discussed you parking way the hell back here. Nobody can see you back here.” Brandon says with what looks like chunky monkey ice cream in his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing back here? Where’s your fiancé? Why are you here? I-“ he stops me mid sentence, placing the ice cream in my hand.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you about Keisha. You didn’t deserve to find out like this” he says looking at me sincerely.

“You don’t owe me anything, we are over. It’s your life. We have both clearly moved on.” I say proudly, pretending that I don’t feel like bending over right now and letting him turn me into a Twinkie.

He stares at me in my eyes with a look I haven’t seen in so long, but I remember well. I break contact and go back to packing my car so I can leave this awkward encounter.

He grabs my arm forcefully, making me drop my car keys in the backseat. Turning me towards him, forcing me to look at him. I begin to tear away in anger because I’m loosing control to my body.

“Get the fuck off me Brandon, what in the hell is your problem. Let me the fuck go.”

I try to break free from his grip. I feel his dick literally growing with anticipation the more I fight.

He stops me and looks me in my eyes. He’s subdued me with his piercing glare. He presses up against me, placing his hands on my body. One softly but firmly on my neck and the other on my left breast, lightly massaging it and grazing the nipple ever so softly. My breathing becomes shallow and scattered. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? Isn’t his fiancé near by or in the car wondering where he is. I’m sure she’s looking for him. In this moment, I don’t think either one of us cares. My pussy is wet and gushing between my panties that I know is drenched at this point.

“I know you feel what I feel for you. I haven’t had a day go by that I haven’t thought about you Dev. We broke up, but never really let go. If you tell me to let you go right now, I’ll stop and walk away forever. You want me to stop?” He says while looking me in my dough eyes. I have no voice to even reply. My red lips are pursed and parted from the small breaths I continue to take. I shake my head no while staring him completely in his eyes.

He leans onto me, kissing me softly, hand still wrapped around my neck. He kisses my lips softly and becomes more aggressive every time he touches his lips to mine. He parts my lips to slide his tongue inside my mouth, I close my mouth to proceed to suck his tongue. Feeling now that his dick is rock hard.

“Show me that you still love me” he says as I’m already unbuckling his jeans. I drop to my knees and open my mouth. Giving him my entire throat to use as he pleases. Forcing my head on and off his dick, using my mouth as his personal pocket pussy. Grabbing both sides of my face, moaning loudly in this parking structure like we are outside alone. He literally has no fear of being caught in this moment. Brandon’s dick is so deep down my throat that he’s breathing for the both of us.

I feel his precum slip pass my lips. He stops. He pulls me off my knees and stands me up, just to pull down my leggings, revealing my cummed in panties. He begins to take his dick to rub my clit while I stand there defenseless.

Brandon forcefully turns me around, placing me in position. I automatically arch the posture of my back, taking my hands to spread my giant ass to show my wet dripping pussy that’s salivating for his erection to be inside me.

“Such a good girl, still obedient like I remember. Tell me what you want” he orders me.

“Fuck me hard please. Take my pussy from me” I say patiently waiting for him to beat my pussy like an Undertaker versus Mankind cage match.

He forces his dick inside my tight wet pussy, moaning hard as he enters. I grip him hard with my pussy as he’s thrusting aggressively in and out of me.

He’s pulsating inside of me as he’s moving. I’m feeling every inch of him as he’s continuing to grow inside of me. Just moving back and forth, harder and harder. I’m moaning so loud and hard, tears in my eyes from how good it feels to have his dick inside me. Holding my breasts as he’s making me take his dick roughly outside where everyone can see.

“Oh my God Dev, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m about to cum. Do you want it in your favorite place?” He says as I scream out “Yes” in reply.

I fall to my knees like a sinner who needs prayer, open my mouth to the heavens and wait for him to bless me. He releases an outpouring of his creaminess all over my face and mouth, as I devour every drop that hits my throat.

He moans as he shakes out every drop til he’s empty. I swallow the rest of him and what’s left of my pride as he kisses me in completion. My pants still around my ankles, he grips my ass holding me in place as he continues to kiss me softly.

I buckle his pants as he helps me with mine. I brush my hand across his face and we embrace each other knowing that he has to go.

“Goodbye Brandon.” I kiss him on the cheek. He walks away silently. Staring back a few times before he’s out of my view.

I said last time would be the last time.

Happy Monday 💋

[reivrze]

OH, SAY IT DITTO ♡

pairing. popular!jungwon x shy!reader

genre. highschool!au, fluff, reader has a huge crush on jungwon

word count. 0.8k

warning. none

a/n. this was inspired by the song "ditto" by new jeans :) the ending was kinda rushed lmao sorry, hope you guys enjoy ! reposts are immensely appreciated as they help my works get recommended, reblogs help the algorithms so thank you for all those who take time to repost my work ♡

exam season had come around at a rapid pace, and your free days now consisted of little solo dates at the library going over the notes you had taken in class. this morning was like every wednesday morning except your first two classes had been cancelled, and you had decided to take a little trip down to the library to occupy your free time.

as you entered the library, you greeted the woman sitting at the front desk, having been here so many times in the past few weeks that you had gotten to know several of the staff. getting closer to your usual table, you stopped suddenly seeing an unfamiliar presence sitting in your chair. trying to get a closer look, you sneaked behind the bookshelves, peeking out to see who was the mysterious person. your face flushed a bright red the minute you realized that the person was no one other than yang jungwon. the boy you had been admiring for the past ten years.

you had first met jungwon went you were eight in elementary. he had been the new kid, causing quite a stir amongst the students, his extroverted and hypersocial personality gaining him new friends almost every day. his arrival had awoken something new, he had given you your first experience of having a crush and boy did you not expect this crush to stick for as long as it had. how could you not fall in love with someone with such a boy-ish vibe and adorable smile ?

now here you are, staring at him through the bookshelves, debating on if you should just leave and come back later or try to find another seat. if you had the confidence, you would've gone sit at the same table as him, but unfortunately for you, that wasn't the case. letting your mind get stuck in this trance as you watched him read one of his textbooks, you hadn't noticed him lift his head up, his eyes catching yours amongst the books.

blinking out of your little daydream, your breath caught in your throat as you realized you were directly making eye contact with jungwon, his eyes curious as to why you were looking at him from afar. you felt a jolt of surprise course through your body, momentarily freezing you in place. caught in the act of observing him from behind the bookshelves, you could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. however, instead of turning away or pretending nothing happened, jungwon's expression softened into a warm smile.

breaking the spell of shyness that held you captive, jungwon motioned for you to come closer. with a mix of hesitation and excitement, you cautiously emerged from your hiding spot, making your way towards the table where he sat. as you approached, he slid his books to the side, clearing a space for you to join him.

"Hey, I noticed you peeking at me from over there," jungwon said playfully, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. "Want to sit with me? We can study together."

"Oh.. Sure" you offered him a little smile that he was quick to reciprocate. jungwon had felt comfortable enough during the time that you guys had spent together, going over the last chapter the teacher had gone over. the conversation seemed to flow with ease, you'd steal glances once in a while, not quite believing that you were actually sitting face-to-face with the boy you had dreamt about all those years.

as time passed, you found yourself really setting in the comfort of his presence, some part of you wondering if this comfort was simply rooted in jungwon's social personality or was it really that you two had easily connected. the time to go was nearing and both of you had started to pack up your belongings, your heart sank a little at the knowledge that this might be a one-time thing. just as you were getting to say goodbye and make your way to class, jungwon grabbed your wrist, turning you back around.

"Hold up- This might sound random considering this was our first interaction but I understood my lesson so much better with this one-hour study session than what I've learnt all semester and if you want, we can meet here tomorrow again after classes. you're fun to talk to and quite cute" he chuckled the last part, trying to ease any discomfort you might be feeling.

your mind went blank. you had never, in a million years, expected him to ask to meet you again. slightly overjoyed, you eagerly blurted out a yes. jungwon laughing at your surprised face at your own self. and just like that, you guys had planned your first little date, unknown to both of you that years down the line you'd still be a prominent part of each other's life.

© miyu 2023 - do not copy, translate, repost or plagiarise my work anywhere !

[xanticore]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Genre: fluff

Note: this is my first metallica fic so pleaseee keep that in mind. I hope whoever reads this enjoys.

Setting: late 90s ~ early 2000s..ish

Summary: Kirk is on tour and he decides to stop by the local guitar store. He ends up staying longer than expected when he overhears a riff that sounded impressive. Assuming it was a guy, but was taken aback when it was a girl...a girl who doesn't seem to know who he is.

It was the weekend and I was starting my weekend off, our next show being on Thursday and Friday of next week. This gave me time to myself to find local comic stores and guitar shops. I was honestly in my own little world as time passed by quickly; I didn't mind at all because I was going to do the whole process again on Sunday. I left the comic book store with a new manga and some new released volumes. All Junji Ito works, no surprise there.

The next stop of the day was the guitar shop. The air was cool and the store was just so fucking huge, It was heaven to me. The store had a variety of items. Vinlys, cassettes, cds, and even some band posters...but my main focus was the guitar wall. All different types of styles and colors, different collaborations of pop culture, anything you could think of-this store probably had it.

A guitar that has been newly stock was the black and red Les Paul. It looked so gothic and vampiric. Younger me was just screaming at me to get it...which It was my plan. I asked a worker to take it off the shelf so I could practice some riffs on it. Just as I imagine; it was a smooth and crisp sound. A sound I was looking feel and I probably would make this guitar debut when I head to Japan.

It was already 5 pm and James was just blowing up my phone. I forgot all about our band dinner. I sighed packing up my things and unhooked the guitar from the amp. On my way towards the front to ring up my guitar, I overheard a riff coming from a room that was being occupied. It looked like it was a guitar lesson in session.

I continued to listen and soon heard a solo. It was definitely in the metal genre. Whoever that dude was; shredding that guitar like it was the last thing on earth. It intimidated me how good it sounded. Almost making me jealous of how I didn't think to use this type of style in a song.

I heard them stop and minor shuffling going on in the room. I quickly walked away and acted like I was looking at the vinyls. I glanced over at the door and saw a tall beautiful girl. She nearly took my breath away. The way she played really matched her style of clothing. She was a goth but it was familiar style I've seen in Japan. Her hair was dyed a dark red and her make up was flawless.

I needed to compliment her and asked her about that solo of hers. I was stupidly stuck in my place but managed to get to her with a sudden boost of confidence. "H-Hey, nice guitar. I heard you playing in that room. You sounded amazing." I complimented her with a smile in admiration.

She smiled back and looked somewhat excited. Did she recognize me? Did she not expect a guitarist from the most known metal band of all time-

"Thank you so much! Are you also a fan of Malice Mizer? I was playing one of their songs."

"Malice Mizer? never heard of them.."

The girl frowned but soon lit up when she started to explain the band to me. "It's a rock band from Japan. Visual Kei style of music over there. I'm really into bands like X Japan and Dir En Grey."

I've never heard any X Japan songs but I definitely seen posters of them in Shibuya. I know they are well loved and idolized in the era of rock music over there.

"There's actually a Malice Mizer cassette next to you of their new album. You should buy it and give them a listen? They won't disappoint." She giggled. I eyed her movements when she moved closer to me, only to pick up the packaged cassette tape. The cover had a silver cross and the band's name in black in the middle. But enough about them, her little giggle was just so cute. If only I could hear that from her more often.

"I'm Kirk."

"(name)"

A beautiful name as well. I didn't want to add anymore details of my name because I knew it wouldn't matter and honestly...i'm really enjoying that. It felt more natural to speak with a non fan. Nothing was forced and she genuinely seemed to enjoy just talking about her favorite music; unlike some girls i'd meet at clubs.

"Well Kirk, I hope to see you around?"

I didn't say a word but I just nodded. I tried to stay positive but it was a pain I wasn't gonna see her again. I bought my guitar and cassette watching the cashier put it in a case. I left the store happy and somewhat sad, but, seeing that girl smile just brighten up my mood...

I hope to see her again.

a/n: so what we thinking?? yay or nay?

gif from: @ba11ltongue

dividers: cr to owners

[natalie668]

Hey i was wondering if maybe you could do something with the poly lost boys finding there mate right after they said that they can't find love? It can be for the boys or the reader. You don't have to ofcourse if you don't want to.

Here you go love, hope you enjoy this, I know I enjoyed writing it. I’ve been a bit stuck writers block wise and this helped pull me out of it ❤️ This is ModernAU! Hope that’s ok. 🥰

You sat on the edge of your best friends bed, you felt miserable; you had just finished college for the summer, and your supposed boyfriend had been cheating on you with your room mate, a girl you had to share dorms with.

“Just forget about it love, you told me his dick was small anyway.” She says laughing, pushing your shoulder after doing the finishing touches to your face.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, she sure knows how to cheer you up, which was why she was dragging you out 2 towns over to Santa Carla for a music fest on the beach, she’d gotten the two of you tickets weeks ago. You used to live in Santa Carla so you were happy to go back, if not to get away from your hoe of a dorm mate and the cheating prick of an ex. You guessed Love just wasn’t in the cards for you, and you believed that was okay.

“Right, get your sexy arse up, get your dress on, we’ll go downstairs order an Uber and we’ll get there in time to scout for hotties.” She says as she pulls her phone out, in minutes the Uber is on the way, and you’re both off.

It takes around 30 minutes in the car before the driver is dropping you at the board walk, the sounds and smells make you nostalgic for times of the past where you’d spend the days here with high school friends, and a lot of the times on your own.

Holding hands with your bestie, you both head towards the loud music, pulling her phone out she pulls up the QR code for your tickets and you’re let in and you’re making your ways through the crowd.

Bodies are grinding against one another, you try to avoid being stood on as much as you can, finding an open space you pull your friend into the spot, you dance together to the song playing. “Pacify her, by Melanie Martinez” is playing and you love the song so you’re singing along, your hands, a live band will be playing soon so you take advantage of the songs between acts.

You sing along to the song, dancing as if not a single person is their looking, you feel free, which is saying a lot as you haven’t felt free since you had began dating your ex.

As the two of you are so engrossed in dancing you don’t notice the four guys leaning against the nearest fenced off area. There eyes have found you amongst the hundreds of bodies in here and something clicks. Like they’ve been in the dark for the past centuries and seeing you has turned the light on.

You’re perfect as you stand their dancing, they eye you from head to toe, you’re like heaven and they have to stop themselves from running over to you throwing you over their shoulder and running. (Or flying) away with you.

David looks to the others and they turn towards you and all four of them stand their watching their angel, their soulmate. They couldn’t believe they’d found you, they had began to believe you didn’t exist.

As one, they approached you; your bestie spotted them heading towards you both, their eyes on you. With a smile she pushes you to check them out, with a grin she says she’s going to get you both a drink.

The lightest blond guy, settles a hand against my side, the moment he touched me it felt like my heart had a string attached to him, it was like when you read books on soulmates, I could tell this was it. I guess with the amount of books I read this was the closest thing to experiencing the real thing.

“I’m David, this is Marko, Paul & Dwayne,” he says as he points the other guys out who haven’t taken their eyes off me. Something pulls me into wanting their touch.

“Why do you all feel like mine,” i say unable to stop myself. They probably think I’m nuts, great job love.

“That’s because we are yours, and you my Love, are ours.” Bringing his lips to your own, you swallow your moan as you feel several pairs of hands stroke down your back, across your arms and your hand.

“You’re our soulmate, my sweet.” The dark haired one says his eyes seem to glow after saying that, you have no idea what they are or why you’re believing soulmates are true but you’re so glad you decided to come with your bestie.

Note: hope this was okay Anonymous ❤️ I know no smut but I can always try for a part 2 if need be :-)

[delilaahh9]

Angels Like you! | Mark Estapa

AN - hii! This is my first fic/series. I’m so excited to be writing but I’m still getting used to tumblr so bear with me 😭.

But I hope you enjoy!

Meet Annabelle Hughes!

distinguished young lady, who proved media wrong time and time again. After living in the shadows of her brothers all of her life, it’s time she did something on her own and decide she’s better then living in doubt of failing.

She’s always loved to sing but it wasn’t until 2009 when she started to pursue it, as well as acting and dancing.

she was born on June 22nd, 2002 in Orlando, Florida!

More info ||

Due to their age, Luke and Annabelle start at the university of Michigan in the same year. He obviously dragged her to his games and she dragged him to her performances, he had also introduced her to his 3 closest friends on the team. Ethan Edwards, Dylan Duke and mark Estapa. She got along with them well, but something about mark stuck out to her.

The first time she felt like a friend saw her for her talent and not because he is friends with her sister. But she didn’t know it was true, weeks after hanging out as groups the duo would find themselves at parties and zone out everyone in the room. Fully lost in each others conversations and eventually they both developed feeling for each other. Annabelle wanted to believe that he liked her the way she liked him, but something always told her she was crazy.

But what else wound a singer do when they can’t express there feelings in proper words.. they write a song. Except she wrote an album and then eventually published it. Sparking a light in jacks head.

She talks to Quinn multiple times through out the week, but she seems to only text Jack a few times and that’s mainly to congratulate him on games. But it takes a while for him to respond, whether he’s actually busy or he just doesn’t think he has to. Until he hears the song and it’s like something in him just broke, with a phone call to his mom, she gave him the right advice and he decided to fix the mess that hadn’t been solved since 2009.

Fics!

When in Michigan…

After practice

Step backwards

Blurbs!

Decision

Social media!

After Practice

Game day TikTok!

Asks!

[gaysindistress]

Связи (n.) connections - four

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: mob!bucky x reader

Summary: “Did you think you could hide from us? That’s adorable, little one. There’s no where on this planet where you could hide from the Shostakov Bratva and even if you did manage to evade us, the Barnes Bratva would find you. Your связи, your connections, will always come back to haunt you, Y/N.”

Warnings: cursing, Carol not being nice

Word count: 3.4k

part three | series masterlist

taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @unaxv @identity22

A week passes by in a blur of moving and staring out the window while that stupid song, Possibility by Lykke Li, plays in the back of my head. Bucky arranged for all of my stuff to be moved into his penthouse but promised to keep my apartment for me. I think he even offered to take over my rent but honestly I don’t remember. I’ve tried to tell myself that I haven’t fallen into a depression but that would be a lie.

Between having my world crumble around me and then rebuilt by others, it’s to be expected that I’m feeling…awful. That’s not the right word but it’s all that I can think of to describe the feeling of complete isolation and loss of control that’s taking residency in my chest.

Bucky and Sam did stay around for the first couple of days, probably to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid but after that, it was just me, the two guards who never look like they’re doing anything, and two other staff members. Thor, the massive blonde guard, lounges at the kitchen island everyday and flirts with the golden haired cook named Jane. The other guard, Valkyrie, is always within sight of me and moves when I do like a little shadow but I rarely see Loki who I can only assume runs the entire place. If he’s not on the phone, he’s just hanging up or is excusing himself to answer it.

I’m grateful to have had time to process and grief before being shoved back into my life and forced to act like nothing happened. Tony and Steve both have called numerous times to make sure I’m okay after randomly taking a week off but it’s Carol’s insistence on texting, calling, DMing, and FaceTiming that gets to me. I have half a mind to show Bucky and get him to do something about however something tells me that I won’t like his methods.

His question comes in the form of a text the first night he’s not around. It was simple; “what’s your favorite food?”

“Are you really going to waste your question on that?”

“It’s a question all the same.”

“Pho but it has to be from the place down the street from my apartment.”

The next day Jane brought me that exact meal and made a point to show me the note that accompanied it.

“See? Not a waste.”

It wasn’t signed but I knew it was from him. Although I wanted to be angry with him for the part he’s playing in all of this, I couldn’t be. I can’t. He’s just as stuck as I am.

We’re both stuck being pawns for a giant game of chess that neither of us want to play.

A debriefing with Wanda and Carol wasn’t exactly what I thought my first day back at work would entail. I’d hoped for a relaxing day with my head buried in paperwork so I could avoid any questions but apparently not.

It surprised me at first that I would be allowed to go back to work but my father apparently hadn't cared enough to make any terms and conditions regarding me after I married Bucky. His concerns lay in the merging of their lower men and giving the directive of “shoot first, ask questions later” if they saw Antonia or any of her people to their Brigadiers. Neither of those things involved me and seeing as I was now a member of the Barnes Bratva, I became Bucky’s burden to bear.

The lack of rules regarding me meant that I could return to work and use it as a cover to help with the FBI’s investigation. Hence why I’m being forced to endure Carol’s stare as Wanda gives me the complete run down on Alexei. The entire time Carol’s been burning holes into my back and Tony’s done the same to her.

The moment I walked in, he had grabbed and yanked me into his office, demanding to know what the fuck happened. I explained as much as I could without putting him in danger but he refused to hear it. He’d threatened to send Steve after me if I didn’t give him the full story and the thought of Steve lecturing me was enough to have me spill everything. I swear tears pricked his eyes but he was quick to engulf me in a hug and promise to do whatever I needed him to.

“Anything at all, you call me. I don’t care what time it is, you call me,” he’d whispered into my hair and I nodded.

I honestly think if I asked him to make Carol disappear, he would. He might even be trying to do that now with the way he’s shooting daggers at her. Wanda pretends to not notice but the air is growing too hot around us and she lets out an annoyed huff.

“You need to figure your shit out right now. I don’t get paid to deal with children so you better grow up and sort it all out right now.”

Carol is the first to speak, “this isn't safe anymore. We need to call it off and find another way to get evidence.”

Wanda arches one auburn brow, “and why isn’t it safe anymore?”

“You know why.”

“I do but if you’re going to suggest something that stupid, you need to back it up.”

Tony snickers to himself and earns a glare from Carol.

I interject, “the operation is fine and we all know nothing is ever going to be ‘safe’ not when you’re dealing with criminals. Your best chance is me. Alexei will trust me more than anyone else you’d send in. It’ll be slow and you probably won’t get anything useful for a few weeks but sending in more people or even pulling anyone will be suspicious and he’ll catch on. I’ve been made Bucky’s Sovietnik and he’s obviously a part of all of this so I’m already in a good position to infiltrate Alexei’s organization or at least get someone else in.”

“Barnes made you his advisor already?” Wanda asks with curiosity and something else edges her voice.

“He only did it to piss me off,” Carol snips as she moves to make herself coffee.

“I’m starting to think you’re the problem, Danvers. Maybe you need to be reassigned,” Wanda snips back as she goes back to look at the file splayed out on the table. She’s leaning over the table and Tony joins her, coming to sit next to where her hand is on the table. They begin to speak in low voices and I take that as my cue to take a break or make a run for it. I still haven’t decided as I get up and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Carol’s lurking on the other side of the room, angrily stirring her coffee and staring at the ground so I think it’s safe to slip out.

Alas, everything I think is apparently wrong and I don’t see her follow me out but she makes her presence known when she grabs my arm in the hallway and stops me.

“What is it with people grabbing me?” I sneer at her as I spin around and pull my arm away from her before she can say anything. Hurt flashes in the eyes that I once loved to get lost in but that was before I found out she’s been using me. Now they’re dull and lifeless like a painting that’s been sitting in the sunlight too long. “What do you want?”

“I…” she stammers clearly not expecting me to snap at her and that makes me even more angry. Did she really think I could forgive and forget, move on after hearing that she’s the reason my sister is dead and that she’s been lying to me since we met? The void that’s eaten away at me now fills with molten anger and demands to be released.

“Spit it out. I have to pee.”

“I'm sorry. I wanted to say I’m sorry and ask if you’d come over for dinner tomorrow.”

If I were feeling anything other than anger, my jaw would’ve dropped in surprise but instead it clenches and I raise a brow at her.

She continues, looking around to make sure no one hears a single desperate and disgusting word she’s saying, “please, Oksana…”

When I didn’t think she could fuck up anymore, she does and she knows it by the way her face pales.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear; my name is Y/N and I want nothing to do with you after all of this is over. Bucky already told you that we can’t be seen together anymore. We can’t be together anymore and nor would I even want that if it was a possibility. I will be professional because we have a job to do but don’t expect me to come running back to you because you said you were sorry. It means nothing to me.”

Something shifts in her and she takes a step forward as a dark look overtakes her features, “but it means something when he says it?”

I narrow my eyes at her and scoff. Jealousy is a terrible look on everyone but on her it’s appalling. Shaking my head, I turn to the bathroom and she yanks me back, pinning me between the wall and herself. She leans down to whisper in my ear, “because he’s the good guy, right? The guardian angel who saved you from turning out like your sisters? Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even try to stop the marriage and just rolled over like a fucking dog?”

“No,” I grit out as I try to push her but she doesn’t budge. “Move.”

She presses further into me and I gasp out of anger, shock, rage, take your pick.

“He’s the criminal here, don’t forget that,” she whispers in my ear and I squeeze my eyes shut at the feeling of her breath washing over me.

“I can see it clear as day now,” I whisper back and she pulls away with pinched brows. Dropping my head back against the wall, I use her confusion as my chance to slam it forward and smash my forehead into her nose. She lets out a shriek of pain and jumps away from me as blood gushes from her nose. I can feel where my forehead made contact with her nose and blood drips down my face but I don’t care.

“Tell whatever story you want, Carol, but don’t think you can make me the villain without forcing me to turn into one. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do nor do you know what I’m prepared to fucking do if needed. You are a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

Finally she’s silent and I straighten my shoulders at my victory before giving her a look that would make even Alexei shrink away. I know that someone will have something to say about what just happened but for now, I’ll bask in the glory of getting her to leave me alone and clean up my face after I pee like I originally wanted to.

Tony is sitting on the bathroom counter when I open my stall and go to clean up. He doesn’t look pissed but he doesn’t look happy either. I choose to ignore him as I gather paper towels and wet them so I can dab at my forehead. He takes them from my hands and finishes the job.

“You need to be more careful.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you though? I don’t know exactly what Barnes has worked out with the Feds but I’m sure there’s a clause somewhere that lets them drop you whenever they want.”

I stare blankly at him and he rolls his eyes; what a perfect duo we are.

“All I’m saying is that if something happens, I don’t know that I can help you.”

I step away from him, narrowing my eyes at him, “I don’t need you to save me. I don’t need anyone to save me, I can take care of myself. If something goes wrong, I’ll be fine because that’s always what happens; I find a way out.”

Tony’s eyes soften and he drops the bloody towels into the sink, “I didn’t say you needed saving, I said I might not be able to help. Those are two very different things and this..”

He gestures under us as if the lies are tangled into the air, “this is different. This isn’t a bad day on a case or even a criminal who got away. This is your past. These are your connections that you’ve tried to sever for years coming back to show you that you won’t be free until every last one is gone. All I’m asking is for you to be careful please.”

I nod and shift my stare to the woman in the mirror that looks vaguely like me. Her forehead is a collage of dark hues, throbbing under the surface but the blood is no longer visible. Her eyes are void of anything, any life, any emotion whatsoever but there is a slight curl to her lips, a shadow of a smirk.

Oksana is staring back at me and I find myself welcoming her home after so many years.

The first thing out of Sam’s mouth when he sees me is “Jesus fucking Christ” as he hands me an ice pack. It’s been a few hours so it’s not like it’s going to do anything but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

“You should see the other guy,” I half joke as I take the pack, pressing it to my forehead with a wince and he shakes his head even more.

Bucky on the other hand is silent, nothing betraying what he’s thinking as he stares at me from across the kitchen island. It’s unsettling. It’s unrelenting. It’s enough to make me want to vomit.

Sam notices and clears his throat, drawing me into a debrief about the meeting with Feds. He sits beside me and doesn’t hesitate before diving into how I got my lovely bruise. Only then does the Pakhan speak and causes us both to freeze mid sentence.

“Question for a question,” he barely utters as he leans back against the cabinets and crosses his arms. “Did she threaten you?”

Sam’s eyes dart between us as I carefully pick my words, “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

I raise a finger at him, “it's my turn, what changed that night?”

Vague sure but he understands.

“Take your pick. Alexei’s men came in too early, Joseph was killed, you fought me more than I expected, Yelena wasn’t sedated and then she bit Sam.”

I nod, satisfied with his answer and tell him to ask his second question which he repeats. Sam and him give each other a look before he slips out of the room and leaves just Bucky and I in the kitchen. Jane had left us all plates in the fridge but only Sam and Bucky had eaten. Mine still sits untouched only a few inches away on the island but I’ve been too focused with talking to even think about eating.

“She followed me to the bathroom and grabbed my arm.”

“There’s more.”

Damn, he’s getting good; stating things so that I have to either confirm or deny them but not outright asking.

“No there’s not.”

“Yes there is, tell me what else happened,” his voice is stern and it sends a shiver down my spine.

“There’s really not.”

“So your forehead just randomly bruises like that,” he states with a bored look and gestures to the darkening spot on my forehead.

Suddenly my food looks appealing. He calls my name, softer this time and I let out a sigh before looking at him over my food.

“She pinned me against the wall and wouldn’t move so I made her.”

“And head butting was the best option?”

I narrow my eyes at him, “one at a time.”

“Fine, ask yours then.”

I chew my food, pretending to think of one even though I already have one in mind. I maintain eye contact with him as I swallow.

“How long were you and nat together?”

He rubs his jaw and scratches at the stubble that’s grown into almost a beard since the start of this all. Eye bags are slowly starting to form and I wonder if it’s from me or the Feds or anything other aspect of his life. Everything seems to be complete chaos around him albeit organized to some degree.

“We weren’t.”

My brows knit together in confusion, “what? She was in love with you, she wouldn’t shut up about it.

He shrugs before sliding off the counter top and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Some things are better left alone.”

“Are you always this frustratingly vague? No wonder Sam is always in a mood, you only speak in riddles and sarcasm.”

Bucky chuckles. “And I’m guessing you have a habit of picking fights when backed into a corner.”

“I was raised by the one and only Alexei Shostakov; isn’t that what he’s known for?”

He nods in agreement with a smirk but doesn’t say anything. We settle into silence as I finish eating and he stands guard with his arms crossed while leaning against the wall closest to the front door. The penthouse isn’t extravagant but it’s not homey either. Steel, concrete, and dark wood cover every surface giving it a showroom vibe and the severe lack of any personal touches makes it worse. The room I’ve been staying in was like a hotel room when I first moved in but now it’s at least comfortable thanks to my things. I tried once to be a minimalist but after years of not being allowed to enjoy life, I couldn’t deny the little girl in me that anymore.

Plants line the window seals and terribly hand knitted blankets cover the white bedding I couldn’t get rid of. While it might have felt sterile at first, the sheer comfort and luxury of those sheets and blankets convinced me to keep them. Where there aren’t plants, I put candles and small lamps so I don’t have to turn on the main lights. My little haven is the complete opposite of the kitchen that feels even colder with Bucky’s cold stare but it’s mine and mine alone.

He breaks the silence before I can escape to it and watches me closely.

“Has she hurt you before?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave in an effort to not scare me off I assume. I freeze as I’m putting my dishes into the sink with my back to him. I know who he’s talking about and I know my answer but I can’t figure out why he cares.

He seems to see the hesitation in me and taps my elbow to get my attention. I’m thankful he doesn’t grab me and I suck in a breath before turning around.

He is unlike any of the other Bratva men I’m used to. The others are filthy, worn, and all around awful to be near from their lives in crime but there’s something about this man that’s different. He looks every bit of the menacing Pakhan that he is, however I still remember that laughing young man who pulled pranks on my sisters with me. The years aren’t usually kind to the children raised in Bratvas but he’s found a way to make them work in his favor and at 34, Bucky is the most respected while fearsome Pakhan this world has seen.

The kitchen light above us emphasizes the dark flecks in his blue eyes and amplifies the sun kissed hue of his skin. The dark blue threads of his eyes rival that of any ocean wave I’ve ever seen and mild concern lurks in them as they bore into me.

“Has Carol…” he starts and I interrupt him.

“No. She’s…she wasn’t like that at all. She’s never even raised her voice at me before.”

“Lisichka,” he murmurs to me and the nickname catches me by surprise.

Little fox.

“Don't call me that,” I spit out and clench my fists at my side before storming off to my room.

Little fox.

He used to call Natasha that.

[cowgurrrl]

Too Close

Pairing: rockstar!joel x actress!reader

Author’s note: this isn’t exactly where I wanted it to be but I still like it (ps fic named after this song)

Summary: “Why, get you gone! Who is’t that hinders you?” “A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream Act III, Scene II, Lines 318-319 [2.5k]

Warnings: arguing, language, tumultuous co-parent relationships, the l word, allusions to substance abuse, vague depictions of a panic attack, brief description of disassociation, poor sleeping habits, fictional situations of survivor’s guilt/traumatic events, this one’s a doozy y’all

Joel ushers you into his bedroom and quickly closes the door behind him like you two are sneaking around and don't want to get caught. You bite your thumbnail as you think, replaying the brief moment you saw Angela over and over again. He stands there, hands on his hips, and takes a deep breath. You don't know where to start. Two hours ago? Last week? Twenty years ago? Time seems to collapse between the two of you.

"If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me. Not Sarah." He says as if getting pissed at Sarah was even on your radar. 

"I'm not gonna get mad at her. She's a kid," you scoff. The fact that he even had to specify that makes your skin crawl. At what point during your relationship have you made it seem like you would ever be angry with her? "How long have you known?" You ask the million-dollar question, and he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sarah reached out to her a couple of months ago, and she responded. I didn't think she'd actually show up."

"How long is a couple of months?" 

"She emailed her before we left for New York." He says, and you have to sit down on the ottoman at the front of his bed to catch your breath. You bury your head in your hands and fight the tears stinging behind your eyes. Your knee bounces with unspent anger and anxiety, and your heart hammers in your chest. 

"So, the entire time I was telling you everything about my past and showing you where I lived and trusting you for the first time, you were in contact with your ex-wife?" You ask, but he doesn't say anything. You look up to stare at him, and he shakes his head.

"I didn't think she'd actually come into town." 

"That doesn't matter, Joel! You should've told me!"

"I didn't know if we were even anythin' before we went to New York, so it didn't feel important." He says like it's your fault, and you raise your eyebrows at him. You walk over to him, fire in your veins and venom choking you as all your frustration spills from you.

"Oh, is that why you fucked me? Because you didn't know and wanted to try something? Wanted to see if I was worth keeping around?" You ask. "Because you seemed to have a pretty good idea of what we were when you stuck your tongue down my throat, so please tell me what revelation you had that made you think you didn't have to tell me you were talking to the woman who left you with a baby."

"I didn't want to ruin our time together."

"Well, it's pretty fucking ruined now, isn't it?" 

"You don't get it!" He raises his voice, and you throw up your hands in defeat as he turns his back to you. You groan and rub your face, looking up at the ceiling in hopes that some sentient being will smite you right then and there.

"Then, explain it to me, Joel." You say, and he shakes his head as he faces you. You think of the young Joel you saw in the picture you saw two weeks ago. The Joel who was a single dad working construction to afford formula for his daughter. The Joel who was in his early twenties and divorced and scorned. The Joel who wrote one of your favorite songs and released it alone, not knowing what his future would hold. That Joel is hard to find when you look at him now.

"She's sober. She has a steady job in Texas. She's finally gettin' back on her feet. I've been tryin' for eighteen years to get her to even pick up the fuckin' phone, and now here she is, and she's better. This could be a chance." 

"A chance for what?"

"For us to be a family or, at least, for Sarah to have a relationship with her." He says, and you nod, biting the inside of your cheek. You’re not family. You’re an outsider, someone to hang around until Mom gets to come back and take what’s hers. You’re not permanent in the grand scheme of his family.

"Do you still love her?" 

"What?"

"Do you still love her?" You repeat slowly. He gives you a look before running his thumb over an invisible ring on his left finger. It might've been a nervous habit, but you saw it. You saw the way he flinched when he felt skin instead of metal.

"I…" he starts. "I will always have love for her. I-"

"Oh, my God." You can't even stand to hear the rest of his sentence. You push your hair out of your face and start pacing.

"She's Sarah's mom!" He yells.

"And she left! She left and didn't give a shit about either of you, Joel! And now that you're famous and have money, she suddenly checks her inbox?!"

"You don't know what you're talkin' about." 

"Apparently, I don't know a lot," you say. He softens momentarily as the words hang in the air, and you shrug. You furiously wipe at your eyes as unauthorized tears roll down your cheeks. "I trusted you. I let you into my life. I told my fucking parents about you. Do you know how hard that was for me? Do you know how many years I spent protecting myself from this exact situation? But I trusted you not to do that. I," your voice catches in your throat, and Joel rushes over to put his hands on your arms. You know he's trying to rub his hands up and down your skin to soothe you, but you push him away, stumbling back from his touch. "I don't know where to go from here. I don’t know if there’s even anywhere for us to go after this.”

"We can work through this. We just needa talk bout it and figure somethings out, but we can move forward."

"No, we can't." You cry, and he gives you a confused look.

"Honey, look at me. Yes, we can."

"The contract is ending early. Apparently, your team is fucking ecstatic with how things are going and decided you don't need me anymore. That's what Melanie came to tell me before I fired her," you laugh, wiping your nose on your sleeve and letting out a sharp exhale. "I should've fired her a long time ago, but I did it today because she said I shouldn't be with you. It was my last straw, and I thought that not having any auditions or work lined up would be okay because this morning, I believed in us so hard that I was willing to endure that. I let myself make the stupid choice to be happy for once because I-" You cut yourself off. You can't even bear to think the words, let alone say them out loud. Joel stares at you with big watery eyes, but you can't find it in yourself to feel sorry enough for him to comfort him.

"I have to go. I can't be here right now."

"Please, just wait," he begs, and you shake your head, pulling your jacket closer to your body. He might've tried to say more, but you don't wait to hear it. You fly down the stairs, hiding your tears from the girls, and leave the house. You don't slam the door or throw one last comment Joel's way. You're sane enough to know not to put children in the crossfire of anything, let alone relationship problems.

Once you're at the curb outside of Joel's house, you let out a loud sob. Your hands shake as you pull your phone out of your pocket and hit the first number on speed dial. Ryan picks up on the third ring. The second he says your name, more tears fall down your face, and you feel like you can't breathe.

"What's going on?" He asks urgently, and you hiccup.

"Can you come get me, please? I don't... I can't go home. I don't want, fuck," you press your palm to your scorching forehead and try to force yourself to think. "I really need you."

"Stay where you are. I'm getting in the car now. Where are you?"

Ryan and Carolina hold your hands, rub your back, and offer you tissues as you tell them everything. The contract, the fake dates, the phone calls from Texas, New York, the girls, Melanie, Angela. Everything. They don't yell at you for lying about your relationship or blame you for what went down with Melanie. They just offer soft assurances that you're okay, and they love you. You cry through most of it, and they take turns holding you while you three sit at the dining room table.

You don't remember the last time you've cried this hard about anything. It feels like there's a gashing hole in your soul, and you're desperately trying to keep everything together so you don't lose it. And you want to blame it all on Joel because that would be easy—convenient. But you think that maybe this hole in you has always been there, and you've slowly been losing pieces of yourself without even realizing it. 

You think Melanie took a lot of it, pawning your shiniest pieces for brand new Range Rovers and Birkin’s. You think you left a bit here and there every time a director pushed you too hard, and you sat in your trailer for hours, staring at the wall and wondering how you could feel so disconnected from your own body. And you think that more was taken in every unwanted picture taken of you, in every headline talking about your appearance or lack of a partner, in every interview question that had nothing to do with your work as a trained actor. You want to go around Los Angeles with invoices, demanding that people give you back to yourself because how dare they take those pieces. You want to gather them in a box and try to fit them together again like a puzzle with bent and missing connections. You want your fucking life back, but it’s not yours anymore. It’s theirs. Maybe it always was.

"I'm so stupid," you whisper as you stare at your hands. Carolina wraps her arms around your shoulders and presses her cheek to yours, the smell of her floral perfume and Elizabeth's baby lotion surrounding you.

"You're not stupid. Not by a long shot, okay?" 

"God, why does this hurt so much? I feel like I'm dying."

"Because you love him," she says, like she didn't just destroy your world. You clench your jaw and try to stop yourself from crying more, but her soothing presence around you is enough for you to break. "You love him, and he loves you, and it's not enough to change anything."

"That's dismal." You try to laugh as you wipe at your eyes, and she nods. Ryan reaches across the table for your hand and holds it like it's fragile china.

"It's awful, and I wish I could take this pain from you. But, I swear to you, one day, you won't hurt like this. One day, you're gonna sing and dance again. You're gonna smile and laugh and make jokes again. You're gonna make beautiful art and fall in love with the way leaves fall, and you're gonna be okay." 

"How do you know?" You ask.

"Because I know you." 

Because I know you. Those four words scare you and make you grapple with the terrifying reality that they've seen the rotted parts inside you and still chose to love you. They remind you of how much you love them. They remind you of how much you love Joel, and it doesn't even matter because it will always end this way. It will always end this way, but it matters that the love was there. You wonder if it always will be. You wonder if one day you'll hear his song on the radio and be able to sing along. You wonder if he'll be able to see your movies. You wonder if supporting each other from afar is enough and decide that it has to be. There is no other choice. It will always end this way.

Carolina and Ryan let you sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall from them. The one that's always ready for you when you need it. The one with a pile of borrowed clothes with your name on it and the one with the soft sheets and extra quilts. You lay in the dark, your head throbbing with the weight of your tears, and you should be sleeping, but you're not. You're running through every single moment with Joel like you can will things to change. He fucked up. You both did. There are a million things you would change or take back, but Jesus Christ, were you happy. 

You shake the tears out of your eyes and reach for your phone, ready to mindlessly scroll through social media until you feel the tiniest bit better. However, your email inbox flashes with an unopened message before you can get to Instagram. You furrow your brows and open the app to see an email from Melanie. You open it out of habit and almost immediately sit up in bed.

From: Melanie Lundquist

Subject Line: Opportunity

Pike's assistant reached out since I'm your last manager on record. The role's written specifically for you, so it's yours, without a doubt. Don't say I never did anything for you.

-Mel

Attachment: THE_BEGINNING_OF_THE_END_R.PIKE

Richard Pike wrote you a role. An Oscar-winning producer wrote you a role. You immediately open the document and begin reading. You really should be asleep, especially after the day you've had with reshoots, but you can't stop devouring the words. It's about a young woman dealing with the survivor's guilt of living through a terrorist attack, mental health, and substance abuse issues. She's angry, sad, and hard to love at times, but she's also so fucking funny and caring. She's dynamic and heartbreaking and raw. She's everything you've ever wanted in a role. 

You stay up reading and crying over her story, feeling her pain so deep in your heart that it hurts. When you get to the end of the script, the sun is slowly rising, and you're almost certain that you'll die of dehydration, but you don't care. You find Pike's assistant's email address and tell her you need this role. Surprisingly, she writes back not even ten minutes later despite it being almost six in the morning.

Happy to hear it. Mr. Pike will produce the movie, but Mrs. Liliah Hanover will be directing and working with you directly. I will pass the message along to her team. Shooting begins at the beginning of next month in Ireland. The expected film time is six-twelve months, and housing will be provided upon arrival. Are you still interested?

For some reason, you type back a single, enthusiastic "yes!" before locking your phone and falling asleep for fifteen hours.

[obsessedelusional]

opposite

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x Reader

summary ✦ It’s hard to move on when your ex is a famous actor. As a even more famous singer your bound to see each other. What happens when Bella allegedly starts dating their costar? Who looks entirely the opposite of you.

word count ✦ 3,700ish

authors note ✦ I saw Sabrina Carpenter live and this song has been stuck in my head so it inspired this. Also the most recent request I got had the sweetest not ever just about cried reading it. Just wanted to let who ever sent that know I appreciate you so much. Almost to 900 omg thank uuuuuuuuuu

masterlist

FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

Your ex partner, Bella Ramsey, had finally found the success they always wanted. Which only made the break up harder, seeing their stupidly handsome face everywhere.

You were an even more successful singer, your rise to fame began when you stared in a popular children’s show. As you aged and left the show you began posting covers online. Eventually sharing snippets of your original work, one went mega viral changing the trajectory of your life. Releasing the song began your music journey and you hadn’t acted since.

It all started when the director of a movie Bella would be staring in approached you to write a song that would be featured in the movie, you were ecstatic. You were invited to the premiere where you were introduced to Bella. Your attraction to them was instantaneous.

Unfortunately you didn’t get to see them again that night. When you arrive home that night you throw on your comfiest clothes. Laying in bed you waste no time cyber stalking Bella. Doesn’t take you much time to find their instagram. You smile seeing the follow back button. You click it before sending a simple message about how you enjoyed the film. Truth be told you weren’t paying much attention to it. It takes a couple hours but Bella responds thanking you. This conversation sparked many more before finally inviting Bella over. A handful more of casual dates lead to you two making it official.

Your relationship with Bella was extremely private entirely on their part. You wanted the world to know but they weren’t ready. So you never pushed the issue figuring Bella would be ready eventually. Six months later and they weren’t ready, starting the downfall of the relationship.

Missing opportunities because Bella wanted you with them. A big event would be nearing and suddenly Bella desperately needed you in England. Only for you to arrive and Bella be distracted. One time you arrived and Bella never responded to your messages. You were in their home town for a whole 24 hours before they got back to you. They came out with some bullshit excuse.

Making you feel like shit for going to events while they were in town. Leading to arguments because they were always invited. Sometimes you couldn’t help but feel like they were jealous of the fact that you were on a whole different plane of fame than them. Or maybe they felt inadequate. Bella shut down at every conversation about the relationship so you never understood the underlying issues.

It all came to an end when you had planned a trip to Paris for the two of you, somewhere you had always dreamt of visiting. They were well aware of this fact, telling you that one day they’d take you.

Bella would be done filming their most recent project around the time you’d be on a two week break from tour. You wanted nothing more than to spend it with Bella. Things had started to go stale, hoping this would help things to be like when you first started dating. When you arrive to Nottingham you surprise them expecting them to be as excited as you.

“I don’t want to go.” Bella responds flatly, reading over the card you worked hard on. The plane tickets slipped inside.

“Why not?” You ask, irritation heavy on your voice.

“Because I’ve been there before so many times. Plus we can’t go anywhere without paps following you around. Surprised you made it here without being followed.” They set the card down, walking away from you.

“Would it be so bad if people knew we were dating?” You respond, Bella just looks at you unable to talk.

“I don’t understand. Every single time I try to do anything besides sit in your apartment for weeks on end you shut it down. I’m always traveling to see you. Not once have you come to LA when it wasn’t part of your job.” You speak, voice shaking. Not sure if your about to start crying or yelling. Maybe both?

“You know I don’t like LA.” Bella says only responding to part of what your just said.

“I don’t like being a secret but I do it because it’s what you want. We do things we don’t like for the people we love.” The mention of love sends tears running down your cheeks.

“Whatever.” Bella huffs pulling their phone out. Every time you tried to discuss anything uncomfortable Bella always shut down, typical.

“Fuck this.” You spit out wiping away at the tears, reaching for the card. Pulling the tickets out of the envelope and taking one. Tossing the other ticket at Bella, their face fills with confusion as they pick it up from the floor.

“I’m going to Paris with or without you. Our hotel information is in the card. You know where to find me if you want to continue whatever the fuck this is cause I’m done.” Bella doesn’t plead or try to stop you like part of you wish they had.

When your out in the hallway of their apartment complex that’s when the real waterworks start. Between tears you shoot a text to your personal body guard that had dropped you off requesting a pickup.

Your sat outside crying just long enough for some one to sneak a video of you. Posting it to twitter that day going viral, most people wondering why you were so upset. The greater half of the internet turning into a meme. So that for the rest of your existence you’d be reminded of the day your relationship with Bella ended.

A couple days later your were in Paris all by your lonesome self. You decided after two days of moping in the hotel room it was time to get your shit together. Taking a long hot shower washing the breakup off your body and out of your hair. Hadn’t heard anything from Bella which was probably for the best.

You take your time to do your make up. Spending even more time on picking an outfit out. This would be your first time making an public appearance since the video. Your manager pressing you to post something about it. When your done your body guard is waiting for you in the car outside. They drive you to the Eiffel Tower.

Your in awe as they park, the tower perfectly in your view. Your quick out of the car your body guard hurrying to catch up. Your late start to the day puts a pip in your step. Momentarily you forget about everything doing the stereotypical tourist things. Taking pictures of the tower and then photos of your self with the tower. Enlisting the help of your body guard to get better photos, laughing at their attempt.

When you finally get your phone back you scroll through the photos smiling. Until you hear your name softly, looking up your greeted by a young girl.

“Hi,” you smile. They start talking about how much they love you and your music. You thank them pulling them in for a hug, the fan not realizing how much you needed that hug.

“I know it’s none of my business but I hope whatever had you so upset in that video has been resolved or something. I just hope your feeling better, I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.” They laugh at their own words, you smile thanking them again. You ask them if they’d like a picture, your body guard snaps a few for the fan.

“Thank you,” the fan says before going to leave.

“No thank you, I appreciate you.” You respond.

—

It doesn’t take long before a small crowd of people forms wanting your attention. You talk to each one, taking photos with everyone. Thirty minutes have passed and the suns starting to set. You say you goodbyes before following the body guard to the car. In the car you scroll through all the photos you took tonight. Favoriting a few, deleting the rest and editing your favorites.

Once in the hotel room you decide it’s time to make a post. You post several photos in one post, doing a photo dump of your adventures from the last few days. The first photo you in front of the Eiffel Tower, the second a shot of the tower by itself. The third photo you crying in your hotel room, a snap chat you had sent your friend. Deciding to attach a screenshot of the video that went viral or you sobbing outside of Bella’s apartment. Ending it with an off guard photo of you laughing.

caption: if you’re going to be sad you might as well be sad in paris

—

3 Months Later

Bella’s most recent tv show has been doing so well that the entire world was tuning in every Sunday night. Expect you of course, you refused for your own well-being. It’s hard to avoid her though at this point everyone’s talking about the show. Your feed flooded constantly with posts about the show.

Clips of the Bella and their love interest had been blowing up all over TikTok flooding your for you page. Causing you to fall down a rabbit hole every time which only made their videos appear more often. The only good thing to come out of this was you spent less time on your phone.

Tour has come to an end, it was amazing but you were ready to relax. Your recent breakup was inspiring many songs, the next album coming along easily. Your visiting your parents in your home town, staying in the room you grew up in. Not much has changed since you left years ago. To your dismay your younger sibling was obsessed with Bella’s new show, begging you to watch it with them. Constantly bringing it up in conversation.

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen it. The show has girl on girl action in it.” They casually say at the kitchen table.

“Don’t refer to it as that.” You roll your eyes.

“Whatever. You’d love it. We should binge the show today and then we can watch the new episode tomorrow.” They suggest.

“I’m good.”

“That Bella girl is in it. Remember she starred in that Amazon movie you made a song for?”

“Yeah I remember.” You respond, ready for this conversation to end.

“I ship her character and her costar, Cleo. They’re so cute. I think they’re dating in real life.”

“Why do you think that?” Suddenly interested in the conversation.

“They’re always together all over social media. They look pretty much in love.” You reach for your phone pulling it out, opening instagram. Typing Bella’s at into the search bar, clicking on their profile once it pops up. Photos of Cleo filling Bella’s feed.

“There’s no fucking way.” You groan aloud, seeing the photo of the two of them hugging in front of the Eiffel Tower. The place you had begged Bella to take you to before the breakup. They refused to because they didn’t want anyone to know you were dating. Or maybe it cause they didn’t want Cleo to know? They were filming this show the entirety of your relationship with Bella.

“What?” Your sibling questions.

“Nothing.” You mutter, leaving them sat alone at the kitchen table. Straight to your bedroom you head. You find Bella’s new “friends” Instagram, taking note of the follow back button. Scrolling just far enough to find a post with your lyrics as a caption. Bella was still keeping you as a secret. You could feel your self getting angrier by the second. You had cried so much over this entire situation now only anger left.

Then noticing all the differences between you and her. Opposite colored hair and eyes. Body entirely different, looks nothing like you. Apparently Bella had a type and obviously wasn’t you. Why does Bella look so happy in this photos? Why could they be happy with you?

It all starts to click Bella was holding out for the opposite. Most likely dragging you along until they found what they actually wanted, Cleo. Even if you never left Bella that day your relationship would of never worked out, you weren’t Bella’s type. They’ve at most been dating for three months and Bella was ready to be public in Paris of all places.

That night you stay up super late. Your brain heavily inspired by the news shoved in your face this morning. After several hours you have a shell of a song deciding to title it Opposite.

♫ Oh, so you do have a type? And it's not me.

Oh, so you can reply? Just to not me.

So y'all are in Paris now? Guess it's public. ♫

—

Some time has passed since you finished writing Opposite. Normally releasing a song took months but you stressed the importance of this being done. So a week later it was upload to all steaming platforms. Within the first day it is clear it’s on its way to becoming a massive hit. You phone is flooded with compliments on the song.

The smallest part of you wondering if Bella’s heard it. Curiosity gets the better part of you, pulling up Cleo’s instagram on your secret account. Clicking her story where it shows a screenshot of your song with the caption, “Can’t stop listening to this.” You can’t help but smile thinking about Bella being forced to listen to this over and over again.

—

Weeks have passed since you released Opposite. It went number one on the second day and hasn’t left since. Your next gig is an awards show, you’ve been busy practicing. Adding Opposite into the mix among the other songs you’ll be performing.

“You think your ready for tonight?” Your agent asks.

“Yeah.” You respond, you had just finished the last rehearsal for tonight. Getting approval from the award shows reps. The show started in three hours.

“Time to get you to hair and makeup.” You nodded following your agent to your backstage room. Your name posted on the door.

Once inside your greeted by the girls who regularly did your makeup and hair. They spend a solid two hours working on you. You rush getting dressed in the red carpet dress. Just as they’re applying the finishing touches your agent comes into room notifying you that it’s time to walk the carpet.

Your walked out of the back of the building, ushered into a car. The car drives around to the entrance where everyone arrives to walk the carpet. As soon as you step out the crowd starts screaming for you. Camera flashes nearly blinding you as you walk out. Your agent is close behind guiding you through the carpet, instructing you where to stand and how long. Before you stop to do interviews you take pictures with some of the fans lined up outside.

The first two interviews you do are entirely harmless. Asking you questions about your music and if there’s a possible album on the way. You thank them when it comes to an end, quickly moving on to the next.

“You look so good tonight.” The next interviewer says.

“Aww thanks, you too!”

“Thank you. We’re really loving your new single! Is there an album in the works?”

“Perhaps.” You smile sheepishly.

“We can’t wait. You were recently turned in to a meme..” You physically cringe at the reminder.

“You we’re crying and a few months later Opposite was released. Are the two incidents related?”

“Yeah actually they are.” You laugh.

“We’ll I’m sorry you had to go through that but Opposite is a bop. That many can relate to, including me. So thank you and I can’t wait to listen to whatever you put out next.”

“Thank you. Thank you for saying that. You’re so sweet.” You say before saying your goodbyes. You move onto the next interview. Your busy answering their questions when you notice a familiar face a few spots down, it’s Bella. Cleo following closely behind. You rush through the last half of the interview, finding your agent letting them know your done.

They lead you inside where your sat at a table, where’d you be sitting until your performance. You read the name plates breathing a sigh of relief when Bella’s name isn’t on one. Your sat with other young female artists sitting fairly close to the stage. As the table starts to fill you create small talk with the girls.

You can’t help but notice Bella and Cleo enter. Cleo’s scanning the room her eyes light up when she sees you. She starts heading towards you. You turn your back to them muttering a silent fuck praying that she’s going literally anywhere else. Your prayers aren’t answered because you hear the sound of your name leaving her mouth.

“Hi.” You smile at Cleo. Bella stayed back watching the two of you intently. Probably terrified because if the math is mathin Bella was dating both of you at the same time. You could expose them in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe it’s actually you. I love you so much. You’re music is everything to me. Like you have no clue.” Cleo gushes over you.

“Thank you. You’re too sweet.” Cleo asks for a photo so you agree standing up. She pulls you into a hug, any bad feelings towards her fade away. Realizing Bella’s the asshole in the situation. You pose for a quick selfie with her.

“Thank you so so so much.” Cleo pulls you into one last hug before running back to Bella. You can’t help but feel bad for her as she fangirls to Bella. Bella and Cleo sit a few tables down.

—

Your currently under the stage listening to the women who’s announcing your performance. You weren’t all that nervous until you realized Bella would be in the audience. The stage floor opens and your platform begins to rise, it’s time to go.

You start with a mashup of your most popular songs. Singing short snippets of each, moving on to the next. Hitting every note and dancing along with the back up dancers. Everything is going smoothly. Just as planned. The crowd cheers you on and most sing along. The lights go out briefly just quick enough for an outfit change. When the lights shoot back on your at the front of the stage, hands holding onto the microphone stand. The music for opposite stars, spotlight on you.

As the words spill out you can’t help but look to Bella. They look uncomfortable sat there, doing everything in their control not to look at you. As you continue signing Cleo looks happy signing with you, unaware of Bella.

♫ “She looks nothing like me. So why do you look so happy? Now I think I get the cause of it. You were holding out to find the opposite. Said I'm beautiful Was I being lied to?” ♫

You finish the rest of the song not once looking back to Bella. Too hard to look at the person who caused you so much pain. Once your done the audience erupts into applause. The host comes out greeting you.

“Damn girl that was amazing but that song is so so sad. Are you okay?” The laugh.

“I’m great actually. This is probably the coolest moment of my career.”

“Your on fire. I’d hate to be the one who hurt you.” They tease.

“Their loss.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Absolutely. Thank you for that amazing performance.” You thank the host before exiting the stage.

—

You busy changing into your final outfit of the night. A more casual dress that you can wear the rest of the night. A soft knock at the door has you looking up from the shoes your busy trying to shove on. Your entire team in near so you have no idea who it could possibly be.

“Can someone get that?” A few moments later Bella is stood there in the doorway.

“It’s Bella Ramsey.” Your assistant says. They don’t know any better because no one knows about your past with them.

“Can you give us a moment?” Your team nods leaving the room. Bella finally enters the room, keeping their distance. Wary of you might do next.

“What do you want? I don’t have much time before I have to go back out.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

“What?” You ask, confused.

“When I said your beautiful.” A laugh leaves your mouth, finding Bella’s cheesiness stupid. Bella’s phone vibrates.

“Thank I guess. Are we done?” Bella is busy looking at their phone so you ask.

“No I want to apologize-“

“Whatever you’re gonna say. Don’t.”

“Please just listen.” They plead, moving closer.

“I made a huge mistake. I should of taken you to Paris. I was a shit partner. You-” Bella rambles so you interrupt them once again.

“Don’t do this. It isn’t fair to Cleo.”

“You don’t understand the whole picture.” Bella responds their phone vibrating again.

“Seems important. You should take it and leave.”

“Not until you hear what I have to say.” They respond. You only cross your arms across your chest waiting for them to speak.

“I’ll be honest I was scared to go public with you because I knew no one would care about me and my acting. I’d always just be Y/N’s girlfriend. That’s it.”

“Doesn’t matter anyways your with Cleo.” You respond.

“Right before the last time you came to see me. Right before we wrapped up filming the director and a handful of PR pulled us into the office. Insisting that Cleo and I should pretend to date. Get more people to tune in.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true. Said that fans shipped us heavily. They vaguely indirected that if we didn’t our characters might not see the next season. I was so distraught on what to do and then you came and broke it off. I took it as a sign on what to do.” Bella further explains, phone buzzing again.

“We are suppose to present an award any minute hence the persistent phone calls. I was told to announce our relationship on air tonight. I miss you so fucking much. I can’t do it knowing there’s even a slight chance you’ll forgive me.”

“This is all too much.” Is all you can manage to say letting your arms falls to your side.

“You don’t have to make your mind up right now. Just tell me not to go out there and announce it and I won’t.” You look over Bella their filled with panic.

“Don’t do it.” You whisper barely audible. Bella’s panic turns into joy. Smiling ear to ear before leaving you alone in your dressing room.

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⊹

thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider reblogging or leaving feedback. its all greatly appreciated and helpful!!

[colbyskies]

Lover, You Should've Come Over

1.2k words Bill Kaulitz x male reader Bill and M/n had broken up, months ago. Leaving both of them to wallow in their pity and on M/n’s end—self hatred. Bill wanted to go public, they had an on and off relationship since they were both teenagers, the year was new and Bill was ready to take the next step; coming out. M/n wasn’t, he still isn’t. Coming out is terrifying, especially to an entire fanbase, especially in 2014.

Bill and M/n had broken up, months ago. Leaving both of them to wallow in their pity and on M/n’s end—self hatred. Bill wanted to go public, they had an on and off relationship since they were both teenagers, the year was new and Bill was ready to take the next step; coming out. M/n wasn’t, he still isn’t. Coming out is terrifying, especially to an entire fanbase, especially in 2014. 

It’s been a couple weeks since the release of Tokio Hotels new album, Kings of Suburbia. M/n can tell that there are some songs about him, he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been writing a song about Bill too. 

He loves him still and he hopes with all his heart that Bill still loves him. 

So as he sits in this radio station, ready to hop on the radio and sing one of his songs live, he second guesses which one he should actually sing. It would be a shot in the dark to sing the song he wrote for Bill, what are the chances that he’s actually listening to the radio right now? Despite it, M/n knows it's now or never, the record label would never sell something where M/n is clearly talking about a male lover. 

“Hello everybody! Today we have M/n with us, he’s going to sing one of his songs!” The broadcaster announces not noticing the way M/n’s body shakes with nerves. “What song are you going to sing?” 

It’s now or never, right? “I’m going to sing a new song that I recently wrote, first ever listen on air.” M/n smiles through his shaking hands, this could be the end of his career.

“Really?!” The broadcaster looks shocked but excited. “Well let's get into it then!”

The second M/n hears the soundtrack to his song playing in the background he knows there's no backing out of it. Everything in his body telling him to turn tail and run goes off in his head like a series of hurricane sirens. He can only hope Bill is listening. 

— — — —

Bill hates to admit it, but he’s stuck on M/n, almost obsessive over what he’s doing and who he’s with. He knows he shouldn’t act like this, he ended things for God’s sake, but he can’t stop himself from tuning the radio to the station he heard M/n was going to be singing on. 

At first he just had it on for background noise, but after hearing M/n is going to be singing a new song, he puts down his notebook and listens.

The sound is strange, nothing Bill has ever heard from M/n before. It’s almost churchy, something that M/n definitely does not lean to. As soon as the intro closes a beautiful melody plays and Bill instantly knows the song will be a sad one. 

“Looking out the door I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners…” Bill once again finds it to be strange that M/n is singing about this but turns up the volume anyway, loving the sound of his voice. Missing it. 

Bill sits with his knees to his chest, Pumba at his side supporting him. 

“...Maybe I'm too young to keep good love from going wrong, but tonight you're on my mind…” The way his voice sings makes Bill’s chest ache, it sounds so genuine. Each break in his voice breaks down Bill's defenses. 

“...Much too blind to see the damage he's done. Sometimes a man must awake to find that really he has no one…” An apology. Something Bill didn’t know he wanted until this moment. The way his heart fills with warmth at the sound of the discret apology makes him feel shameful for his feelings of breaking up with him. 

Pumba has now gotten up, trying to play with Bill, but the singer rejects him. Feeling the need to focus on everything M/n is saying or singing for that matter. 

“So I'll wait for you, love. And I'll burn. Will I ever see your sweet return? Oh, will I ever learn?” Bill almost chuckles at the last question, something he has said to M/n time and time again during their fights. Fights that Bill now finds to be pointless arguments used to push each other's buttons. 

“Hey Bill, what do you want to eat?” Tom walks into the room asking only to find his brother curled in on himself on the floor, watching the radio like he can see through it to the other side. The older twin is about to ask what is wrong when he hears the familiar voice over through the stereo. A voice both of the twins have grown up with and found to love, the voice of a former friend. 

“...My body turns and yearns for a sleep that won't ever come…” Tom makes his way to Bill before sitting beside him and putting an arm over his shoulders. This break up has been one of the hardest things Tom has to witness his brother going through. Bill even got back into the old habit of sleeping in his brother's room for comfort, scared to be alone after years of falling asleep with a familiar warmth beside him or pressed into him. 

“...My kingdom for a kiss upon his shoulder. It's never over. All my riches for his smiles when I've slept so soft against him…” Bill’s eyes blow wide with shock. “Holy shit… Did he just say he?” Tom could barely talk either, his mouth slack. M/n has always been terrified to reveal anything about his sexuality and now he’s doing it live. He can’t take it back or say it was a slip up of words. He actually took that leap. 

“...It's never over. All my blood for the sweetness of his laughter. It's never over. He is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever…” Suddenly, Bill throws his face into Tom's neck, crying at the words. A simple change of pronouns sending Bill into a fit of sobs. Bill doesn’t even know if he’s happy or sad. He’s happy M/n did it, but they’re not together anymore. M/n isn’t his like he used to be and Bill is so scared he won’t get him back. 

“...Too deaf, dumb and blind to see the damage I've done. Sweet lover, you should've come over. Oh, love, well I've waited for you. Lover, lover, lover. Lover, love, love, love, love, love, love!

Lover, you should've come over 'cause it's not too late.” The emotion in M/n’s voice is evident, the sadness, the yearning, the regret, everything on display for everyone to hear. Bill wishes he could listen to the sweet words on repeat, to hear M/n call him those names once more. To hold him and tell him everything will be okay, but he’s not here with him. 

M/n did this for him. 

— — — —

When the song finishes M/n is rushed out of the station by his manager. His manager yells obscenities at him, but M/n couldn’t care less, this is his life and he wants to live it with Bill. Despite everything, he hopes Bill heard, he hopes Bill still wants this as much as he does. 

All of that is confirmed to be true when he receives a text from ‘Bill <3’ that reads, “Call me.”

There's no need to hide anymore, he loves Bill more than anything and would do anything for him. 

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

Here are some transcriptions of all the newspaper clippings visible on Aziraphale's desk during the trailer. Square brackets mean I can't make a word out, a section is missing/covered up, or that I have made an educated guess. Full text below cut.

Clipping 1 - held in Aziraphale's hands

Everyday It’s a gettin’ closer

A strange phenomenon has got the locals of The Resurrectionist pub in Edinburough scratching their heads and tapping their feet. For no matter what song they put on the pub’s jukebox, it will only play one tune: Buddy Holly’s Everyday. Proprietor Mr Tulloch is at a loss to explain it.

“I took over The Ressurectionist over twenty years ago and the jukebox was installed by the previous landlord, and it has never given us a moment’s trouble until recently. My regulars noticed that all the records seem to have changed into this Buddy Holly song! I’m quite partial to a bit of Buddy Holly myself but everyone in the pub is getting a bit scunnered of it, to be honest with you.

Asked what he thinks could possibly be behind the phenomenon, Mr Tulloch is completely stumped. “Of course, I naturally assumed that this was a prankster at work but I’ve taken to sitting up all night and watching over the jukebox whenever I put new singles […] [ho]nestly swear that no-one […] out of the pub - and yet in […] […] ‘Everyday’. I’ve had the engineer out umpteen times, but he says that it’s never been tampered with and can’t explain it either. It’s cost me a fortune in visits.”

News of the strange occurance is beginning to spread and Mr Tulloch admits that people are starting to turn up at the pub to check ut out for themselves. “I was worried at first that people would be put off. There is only so much of one song that you can […] But now we’re getting folk comming [in] wanting to see for themselves.” Maybe too much of a good thing is good for business after all.

Clipping 2 - with the red banner

SCOTS HOLLY DAY MYSTERY DEEPENS HIDDEN CAMERAS SHOW NOTHING

By James Moore Local News

As excitement around the locally famous “Buddy Holly miracle” dies down, The Recsurrectionist landlord, Mr Tulloch, has been hoping an Edinburough security firm can help him uncover the answer to the mystery. After […] security cameras around the pub, Mr Tulloch monitored his jukebox for three weeks in the hopes of catching the perpetrator in the act. The act itself, all of [the] singles in his Jukebox turning mysteriously into Buddy Holly’s single “Everyday”, occured seventeen [times] in this three week window and the camera [footage] allegedly reveals nothing.

“Infuriating!” says Mr Tulloch in an interview with our […]. “There’s nothing on the footage, they’re point-[…] Jukebox and the switch is happening like […].”

Clipping 3 - with the picture of Buddy Holly

EVERY DAY A NEW […] Edinburough Landlord […]

The mystery continues. No, ladies and gentlemen, Schrödinger isn’t getting into the record books business, we’re talking music, mysterious music, repetitive music. Truly in fact, it is a common and wi[dely] known phenomena that a song c[an] dig deep and get stuck in y[our] mind, [...]

[inaweek-project]

March 23, 2024                                      

About the “‘In a Week’ Project”

I get stuck every time I try to write this because all the details beside the main message seem so frivolous.

The song “In a Week” has always elicited strong images whenever I listened. The same movie would play in my head, but with slightly different details each time: skeletons laying peacefully in an open grave at the top of a hill; no, there was a picnic first, then the slow decay; actually, the scene should play in reverse, so the bones grow flesh and skin…

Two months after October 2023, I was getting high in a bath on my birthday and listening to the song. The story was no longer about the passing of time or decomposing next to a lover. The persistent imagery that played in my mind from then on morphed into a story about a choice a young fictional couple made while facing a horrific situation that no one should ever have to go through, but many real people did and many still do.

Everything in my life is now about Palestine.

I’m Palestinian, born and raised in America after my grandparents (that’s how recent this all is) were displaced due to settler colonialism during the Nakba in 1948. I gave up on the dream to visit the area where my family is from a long time ago. (In fact, I don’t think I ever seriously dreamt of it because it felt so impossible.) Gaza has reignited that dream and gave me the determination to dedicate my life to fighting for our right to return. I will do anything to take advantage of this unprecedented support we now have from around the world.

I’m constantly learning horrors, both new and of the past. There is always something new to learn in the worst way possible. There is nothing Zionists can do that will shock me; they have shown they are capable of doing things rooted in the deepest levels of evil. What makes everything so much worse is the lack of accountability and how they have the audacity to act like the victims. I often get frustrated in my efforts to help on the American front; I let my shyness and anxiety get in the way of doing even the simplest of things to help. This project is a way to use my strengths (writing) to help spread the truth about our history and show the abject horrors that have been overlooked for decades. They benefit from the denial of the Nakba and from the overall lack of knowledge.

I hope this “‘In a Week’ project” is interesting enough to get people to read it and at the same time learn the details of what ethnic cleansing looks like (and the deplorable people who do it with pride.) The one takeaway I want to make sure is known is that even though this was inspired by a heartbreaking love song and has elements of the romance genre, it is not a romantic story.

The reference page (to come) that lists what parts of the story are based on real events that Palestinians have gone through is the most important part of this whole project.

The true face of Zionism is rearing its ugly head and is finally starting to fall, all by their own doing. There is no argument to be made; I only have to show what has already been done.

Again:

This is not about romance or romantic love.

Every detail shows a bit of truth.

The Project:

I call this a “project” because I wrote this story two different ways, a short story and script. The similarities will be obvious at first, but then the script goes deeper into the horrors of ethnic cleansing and settler colonialism. This is where the majority of the historical context comes in. I think I went further with the script than the short story because I see this project in terms of imagery that should unnerve people, and I think the best, most direct way to do that would be on-screen visuals.

I will probably do 3 versions of each: one with no callouts or notes, one with endnotes and references, and one with annotations where I explain everything (just because I love to do that.) There are 3 important dates coming up that I will (hopefully) use as my deadlines: March 30th is Land Day, April 9th is when the Deir Yassin Massacre took place, and May 15th, the day the Nakba is commemorated.

What’s making me drag my feet on this project is having to look up the sources and read more about the Nakba. I don’t know how much more I can take.

Fears:

I’m actually not helping.

This story only comes off as romanizing the Nakba and fucks up the narrative of Palestinians and the history in a way I didn’t see, and I become a disgrace.

People’s only take away is the romantic tragedy element.

[grapejuicegay]

Current tag game

I was tagged by @telomeke and finally! After months of not being able to get to tag games! I am here! (I'm sorry to everyone who tagged me in things, I really wanted to but I have had no time) let's do this

Current Time: 6:46 pm

Current Activity: taking a cab to a friend's place for a horror movie night, drinking an Oishi Green Tea someone got me recently (it's so good and I am very happy). There's something about the shape of the bottle that has me drinking it in a very particular manner and suddenly all the ads make sense.

Currently Thinking About: picking out some fun horror movies for the night. They don't have to be good, they just have to be fun. So Malignant is one, trying to figure out the rest. Also thinking about the colours I want to pick for a shrug I'm planning on making myself for the coming winter 🥰

Current Favourite Song: Only Friends has me back in my Arctic Monkeys feels so I have Fakes Tales of San Francisco and Fluorescent Adolescent playing on loop in my head at all times these days (including during work meetings 😂)

Currently Reading: A Taste For Poison by Neil Bradbury. Very fun book, explores the discovery of the poisons, the biochemical processes that make them act as poisons, how these properties can also make them useful in medical cases, with a dash of true crime that looks at their first/most infamous use as a poison

Currently Watching: Nothing! Ask me again next week.

I did finish The Jungle this past week after having been stuck on ep 6 since it first aired. I honestly had a great time with it. The moment it cemented itself in my heart was while Off is trying to deal with corporate intrigue at the start of his career and gets help from two Nanons who just happened to be standing around the warehouse Off found himself in, throwing knives. There is no explanation, no elaboration, they're just there and it's great.

Current Favorite Character: I could say Pat and Pran and Ink, they're all time favourites. But recently I've been thinking once again about my precious brainwashed child Akk and his friend, the owner of the communal Suppalo brain cell, Wat.

Current WIP: does it count as current if I've been working on it for about a year now? 😂 But it's a Bad Buddy fic that I'm hoping to finish up soon (hi kayla 👀)

Tagging @celestial-sapphicss @casualavocados @lost-my-sanity1 @rocketturtle4 and anybody else who would want to do this!

[daisychainsandbowties]

@the-penguinspy​ i hope you don’t mind being tagged but i have been thinking about pokémon au a lot today so!

it is in the very early stages of brainrot but yes! Ava as a pokémon trainer whose first partner was a Dreepy. he decided to haunt the orphanage, rummaging around in cupboards, going bump in the night, and playing mysterious songs on the old out-of-tune piano. but Ava was 0% spooked and started talking to this disembodied presence in the walls. gradually Dreepy stuck its semi-corporeal head out and they became friends. & then Dreepy corralled a bunch of ghost pokémon to sneak into Ava’s room at night and put on phantom puppet-shows.

& now Ava is a dragon-type gym leader who wears a Dratini as a scarf half the time and her Dreepy is a full-blown Dragapult called Torpedo. she has a Metagross too and he’s called Hashbrown because it’s her third favourite food and her favourite way to have potatoes and she didn’t like (as a dorky ten-year old in a backwards baseball cap and dungarees) how Beldum had ‘dumb’ in it.

oh & she has a baby Deino who compulsively headbutts people in the shins (sorry Lilith) and his name is a work in progress because he HATES everything Ava’s proposed so far. 

she also has a Noivern!! she flies around on him and he looks like a big scary bat & he’s called Lux because that’s the unit of illuminance & she calls him ‘light of my life’ because he tries to act like a big tough bird-creature but he’s a total softie inside. 

she has Sceptile on a technicality because the mega-evolution is dragon. she’s called Spider because she liked to sleep on the ceiling as a baby Treecko but also frequently fell on top of Ava in the middle of the night (nurse joy did NOT appreciate the yelling at 2am in the pokémon centre, but she DID pull out Ava’s favourite joke when berating her which is ‘sweetie, this did NOT spark joy’). 

and her last pokémon is obviously Charizard, again purely due to mega-evolution. his name is Lantern because she met him as a Charmander in the middle of the woods, lost af on a super-foggy night. he led her out even though he was super skittish of humans, like a little marsh-light (but good). & then he followed her for three weeks, always standing waaay outside the circle of her campfire but looking like a little bobbing lantern. 

Ava gets into stupid arguments with Professor Salvius over pokémon categorisation because apparently ‘no, Ava, i will not submit a paper titled ‘but he’s dragon-shaped!!’ to the academy. now take your new crutches and get out of my office.’

Beatrice shall remain a mystery but the premise is they’re all gym leaders/ famous pokémon trainers and they’re asked to compete in a tournament in order to fill a vacant spot in the Elite Four. and so the pokémon-themed chaos unfolds!!!

[crazy56u]

Well, it's been three weeks, and apparently it's now a straight shot to the season finale with no breaks in sight, let's go.

Last time on Quantum Leap, Ian caused the plot. Meanwhile, in Hell's Kitchen...

I never had Indian food, I've always wanted to try it.

"You've gotta stop eating the merchandise." Out of context, that's a drug dealer line.

Okay, so that memorial Ben passed was the dad, I had a hunch.

I choose to believe Ian was staring at that drawing for all three weeks.

"Did you leap?" Well, not yet, Magic, catch the fuck up.

Also, I'm pretty fucking sure Ian leaping occurs in the season finale.

"Not you you, just future you." Distinction without a difference.

Meanwhile, Ben's back in the same fucking alley from the 1980s.

OH fuck, why is Ben in 2009...

The editor is having epilepsy.

I love the implication that Addison just knew that off the top of her head, and she didn't need Ziggy for it.

"HEY RANDOM PERSON TALKING TO THEMSELVES, IT'S MUGGING TIME!"

Ah. A landlord. Starting to piece together why the building burned down.

"Look, you want your money, I don't wanna be choked, life's shit for everyone."

Addison, he's clearly fucking lying, keep up.

"This is your last chance. We both know there's a good chance I'm the one who causes the building to catch fire. I ain't fucking around."

...okay, is that foreshadowing that Ben's about to cause this mom's heart attack as well?

"What's all this?" A giant iPad, obviously.

Look, Ian, I get it, you're stressed out about causing the show to happen in the future, but take a breath.

"No one here believes you're a risk. Janis is more of a threat than you, and we still have her locked in the broom closet!"

"We owe $30,000, just get an extension, you're acting like she tried to murder you in the alley!"

"Web-sheb". Not entirely convinced that wasn't supposed to be "web shit".

Oh God, that beast of a computer...

Why is this turning into the plot of Ratatouille?

"They were going to see the pyramids this year." Calling it now, that was supposed to be the episode, but budget cuts happened.

Ben Song: Can handle space, but not family trauma.

Corpse or Sleep?

Sleep.

Bro wants to ditch work to grab sick kicks, right as the mom is experiencing carpal tunnel.

Okay, this really is Hell's Kitchen if all of these conflicts are snowballing into one clump...

I hope "Dimpy" is actually a nickname, but chances are it's not.

Okay, so, let's total it up: Massive debt, stuck on the past, lingering presence of dead father, baby mama drama, skipping work for new shoes, nerve damage, and pride above all else. And a fire as the bow on top.

200 people in 2009, that's basically the end of days.

Someone's about to get slapped.

"See, this is how you react, being upset that I said your dreams are bullshit!"

[This is the most fucking ominous commercial for Airbnb...]

I was so distracted by Ian's sick tattoos, I failed to realize Ian got a subplot this week.

[As a sidenote, my stance is that people are only complaining about the Project subplots because the show is stuck to 42 minutes a pop; not nearly as many people would be complaining if the episodes were a few minutes longer. The Project subplots aren't bad, the episodes are just compact.]

"Didn't you just call me useless?" "Stop focusing on the past!" "Kinda difficult for that!"

"What else you can do to save a restaurant other than bring in new customers?" ...burn it down the the insurance money is my immediate answer, but I don't think that applies this time...

[I was busy blowing my nose, I missed all of Ben's phone call.]

The mom's impatience going to fucking be the death of her.

"Only in America" will wear itself out pretty fucking quick, ma'am. Trust me...

Annnnnnd the heart attack.

...why am I not surprised Ian was a "Pretty Little Liars" fan?

Is it just me, or does she look like Mila Kunis?

And the mom is still on the floor...

And Ben now has PTSD...

"Your mom had an aneurysm. She didn't. Get the fucking first aid kit."

Okay, I have to side with the mom on this one about the world being harsh, but only because she's in 2009, and I'm in 2023, and I know how bad it gets.

Okay, so now it's 300 people, now it's the end times.

Meanwhile in Oregon, I guess...

They're having out at a pizza place, this episode is clearly inspired by Pizza Tower.

The American Dream = Greasy cheese pizza.

Look, to be fair, spicy food has caused lawsuits. Google "Doritos Roulette".

...okay, calling it now, the landlord got impatient.

Can't tell if CGI or actual explosion...

"2% is low, but not zero." Quantum Leap is an educational show.

AND I'm pretty sure I was right about the landlord.

"Just because we don't have a restaurant doesn't mean we don't have a restaurant!"

Ben's about to invent the pop up restaurant.

[Firefox is lagging the fuck out right now.]

I wonder how much money they spent renting out this location, because 100% not a set...

"Everything you do, you do for a good reason." There, you see, Ian's justified in causing the show to happen.

This looks like a wedding reception.

"I tracked down a few weddings-" CALLED IT

All it took for her to let people in was the landlord being a bitch.

"And so a child will lead them", quite literally.

[Seriously, Firefox is taking a minute to finish adding the sentence I typed in 20 seconds.]

All of this sick ass food is making me regret having pasta alfredo for dinner.

"We'll be serving family style." Mic drop.

I swear to God if the landlord is holding up the investor...

"Ironically, he has food poisoning..." That doesn't negate my guess...

Did they just invent Patreon in 2009?

And the landlord is SEETHING off in the distance.

YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, FUCK YOU KATHY! GO DOWN IN FLAMES LIKE AL CAPONE!

"You two don't need me." Okay, is it bad that I thought she'd immediately have a heart attack then and there?

[It's down to the wire, Firefox is on its last legs...]

And Ben's reward for saying "I love you, Mom"? Playing Battleship with Brandon Routh.

Holy shit, that boat CGI was bad...

[Also, why do I get the suspicion the plot of next week's episode involves preventing World War III?]

Well, I managed to finish the liveblog, in spite of Firefox slowly dying!

Burn in Hell, Kathy.