#and it's still got at least three chapters to go

[threetone3]

Chapter 1: Adventure Is Out There

Kang Haerin x Male OC

Words: 2.4k

What We Don’t Say: 

Everyone holds their secrets, and everyone has things they don’t share. As friendships form and feelings grow, secrets begin to unravel. And sometimes, the most complicated things aren’t what we say, but what we never do.

Chapter 1

“You’re that hagwon girl, right?” In which Kang Haerin starts a new school after everything falls apart—and meets a bubbly Aussie girl who decides she's going to fix it all. Or at least make her watch Up.

Kang Haerin

I was a few months into my third year in high school when my dad lost his job due to taking bribes, and we had to compensate for it by relocating to a completely different district so that he could find new work. I know it sounds harsh, but thanks to him, I had to transfer to a different school in my senior year—something that might ruin my chances of getting into my dream university. But whatever. What’s done is done. 

As the day I’d been dreading approached, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. The thought of starting at a new school filled me with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty, maybe just a slight twinge of anticipation as well. The conversation I had on the phone last night, with words of confirmation and reassurance from my best friend, came drifting back.

"Don't worry, you'll be completely fine there. You're Kang Haerin—straight-A student, vice president of the student council, and last year you received a record-breaking 87 confession letters on Valentine's Day, yet somehow you managed to reject every single one of them. I think you’re gonna be just fine, girl."

Ban Heesoo. Some would describe her as comic relief; the weird girl with the giggly and loud personality in class, perpetually cracking her jokes and being the only person who would laugh at them with her weird guffaws. But to me, she was my trustworthy partner in crime, the only one who understood me and the only friend I ever made. I couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at her words. It was indescribable; she would say things that always managed to make me feel better about myself, but she never made any requests in return. Our relationship dynamic was almost like she was my therapist, and I was her customer who had no idea what was going on with her. But somehow it worked. 

“Thanks, but I don’t know if I can readjust to a new school and catch up on their syllabus at the same time.” I sighed into the phone, questioning whether this was even a good idea.

Heesoo’s reply came fast. “Dude, you were sick and hospitalised for almost a whole month last year and still ranked first in the finals. I don't think you have anything to worry about when it comes to grades. Romantic relationships, however…”

I rolled my eyes as she laughed mockingly.

“First of all, you know how my mom feels about me getting into relationships now. Secondly, every guy at our school was either a hardcore delinquent who didn’t care about studying or a complete nerd who could barely eke out a sentence in front of a girl. There’s a reason why I got 87 letters and not a single face-to-face confession.”

“Okay, counterpoint: they probably didn’t dare approach you anyway because of your stone-cold demeanour. I mean, you were basically known as the Ice Queen in school, and your stage-four terminal case of RBF might be the worst I’ve ever seen. Also, I don’t think you get to say anything about romantically uninclined nerds.”

Damn. Sometimes, Heesoo really knew how to humble me.

“Okay, fine, you’re right. But don’t expect me to show up after graduation with a boyfriend on my arm,” I grumbled.

“I’m counting on it! No boy’s gonna steal my ice-cold Kang Haerin’s heart anyway!” I could imagine her winking at her phone. 

After we said goodbye, I thought about the prospect of having a boyfriend. It was a thought that had been lingering in the back of my head for the past two or three years. Romantic relationships were a national obsession in Korea, despite the overwhelmingly stressful education system. But it was a trend I never got around to joining—probably because I never felt the need. All I focused on were my grades. Maybe that’s why I only ever made one friend in school.

As I started drifting to sleep, I found myself wishing for a different experience in my new school.

“KANG HAERIN! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

My eyes shot to the clock again, which read 7:15. Another thing I hated about my dad losing his job: the travel time. Our new house was a 35-minute walk from school with no direct bus—unless I somehow learned to ride a bike in the span of a few weeks.

As I reluctantly got up and started my morning routine, I noticed a weird uneasiness in my stomach. Even my body was physically dreading the thought of meeting new people. Curse this extremist introvert mindset.

🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈

I’d never been late for school before. I’d never missed a day without a valid reason either; it was part and parcel that came with being vice president of the student council with a reputation for keeping a perfect record. So I was already off to a bad start as I trudged toward the front gate, practically dragging myself there after an attempt (albeit a failed one) to run to school, then a Hail Mary sprint once I caught sight of the pearly gates. I glanced at the clock tower: 8:02. There goes my streak. Maybe learning to cycle wasn’t the worst idea after all.

Even just pushing through the rotating door took every last ounce of my strength. As I stepped foot on school grounds and looked around, my eyes met a pair of gorgeous brown ones, flecked with sea-green and a glint in them. 

“Are you the new transfer girl?” Ooh, thick Aussie accent.

“Yeah… Th-That’s me.” I could barely catch my breath. God, running for 30 minutes made saying three words feel like a marathon.

“Ooh, you might wanna take it easy there. You sound kinda out of breath. Don’t worry, it’s your first day, so there’s no punishment this time.”

“Punishment?” I did a double-take. She pointed to a line of about ten students at the side of the gate, where a stern-looking teacher stood holding a clipboard.

“Mr. Choi takes down the names of everyone who’s late. Every time you’re late, you get a demerit point. Ten demerits gets you the grand prize at the gift exchange: ten laps around the track.” The girl explained casually. “There’s also different offences you can get demerits for.” 

I hummed and nodded before noticing a tall student waving at her. Her eyes lit up.

“Third time this week?” she called.

“Nope, fourth. You forgot Monday—I got caught riding Bull to school,” the boy replied sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

I got a good look at him: natural wavy hair, parted in the middle, a bandage on his nose bridge, and what looked like an earring on his left earlobe.

“Are guys allowed to wear earrings here?” I asked.

“Nope. Guess that’s gonna be his fifth strike.” She shrugged. “But honestly, Mr. Choi’s probably given up on him by now. He’s kind of a legend for breaking the record on demerit laps.”

I raised an eyebrow. His vibe definitely fit the high school delinquent stereotype.

“Does he get into trouble often or…?”

My question made her laugh—a bright, open laugh that answered for her.

“His record was 120 laps in one term, I think.”

I would’ve been more shocked at that accomplishment, but her laugh actually took my breath away. It was only our first interaction, and already she felt like the embodiment of a guardian angel, whose mermaid voice could hum a lullaby and put an entire city to sleep.

“Oh, sorry! I completely forgot about your introductory tour. I’m Danielle. I’ll be showing you around today, helping you get settled in. What was your name again?”

“Haerin. Kang Haerin,” I said, finally managing to steady my breath — and my nerves. Spoken interaction had always been something I dreaded, but this girl’s vibrant smile somehow made it manageable. Not that I felt any kind of attraction to her, it was more like watching the sun laugh.

The vibrant smile I received in response to my introduction only further proved my point. “Well, Kang Haerin, let’s get you acquainted with the people here, you’re gonna love them.” A playful frown creased her forehead. “Well, most of them anyway. Follow me—lots of fun stuff awaits. Adventure is out there!” I blinked at her bubbly outburst. Was that a reference I wasn’t getting? 

My expression must’ve given it away, I realised, as she stared at me incredulously. “Are you just shy, or do you really not get the reference?” I didn’t know how to answer her, so I just stared blankly even more. Like I said, spoken interaction queen over here. “Charles Muntz from Up… you know, the saddest movie of all time?” She was practically praying that I would somehow magically understand. I shook my head no, prompting a reaction from Danielle where she all but lost her mind in the kindest way possible, “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s fine, I’m kidnapping you after school today. We’re gonna do an animated movie marathon and a pop quiz right after. I can’t have you not know movie references, imagine what’s gonna happen if you meet Hanni.” She looked genuinely horrified at the thought of me meeting this Hanni girl without studying movie knowledge, as if drawing a comparison to taking the CSAT on one week's notice. 

I wasn’t used to this type of interaction. Maybe only from Heesoo, but never from someone I just met. I couldn’t even sense any animosity coming from Danielle, just playful banter. She was even suggesting that I go over to her house, and she spoke as if I were already part of her life, and she was already planning to introduce me to her other friends, like this Hanni girl. A warm, fuzzy feeling settled in my stomach, as if my body was saying, “She’s nice to you. Don’t screw this up.”

Danielle, on the other hand, has seemingly already forgotten about the interaction that happened just ten seconds ago, as she now has the warmest smile ever plastered on her face. She gestured forward, leading us across the field.

The school grounds were already buzzing. Students milled about in loose clusters, bags slung lazily over their shoulders, loud laughter mixing with the occasional whistle from the PE teacher across the pitch. I followed her in silence, adjusting the strap on my shoulder, with mild stitches in my stomach as a result of my attempted run, which spoke volumes about my athletic ability or lack of it.

“That building’s the gym. You’ll probably hear Coach Baek yelling even when he’s not,” Danielle said, pointing to a tall, white dome-like structure. “And behind it is the boxing club. That’s where Jay practically lives. You’ll get used to the sound of gloves hitting pads before class ends.”

“Jay’s the one with the earring?” I asked, more to make conversation than anything else.

Danielle nodded. “The one and only. Five-time inter-school demerit champion. Our resident ‘bad boy with a surprisingly soft centre’... probably. Don’t tell him I said that.”

I let out a quiet snort — a sound I didn’t even realise escaped.

She turned toward the main building. “You’ll spend most of your time there. Classrooms, labs, the library… and the music club, if you’re lucky.”

There was a brief pause before she added, “I’m in it, by the way—the music club. We write songs, sing, play a little. Nothing formal. Just vibes, really.”

It sounded so easy the way she said it. Like breathing. Like freedom.

We were halfway up the stairs to the building when she suddenly slowed her pace.

“Wait a sec,” she said, peering at me, eyes narrowing slightly. “What did you say your full name was again?”

I blinked. “Kang Haerin.”

Danielle’s eyes widened, then lit up with something between amusement and disbelief. “Oh my god—you’re that hagwon girl?”

I froze. Here it comes.

“Wait, wait, wait—Kang Haerin from Arae Tuition? Your mom’s that insane Korean language tutor with like three YouTube channels and test prep books in bookstores? You’re that Kang Haerin?”

The question — the way she said it—wasn’t cruel. It was just… shocked. And a little fascinated.

I pressed my lips together and nodded once. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She let out a slow whistle. “Wow. You’re kind of legendary. There was this rumour that you did six practice exams a week and scored full marks on all of them. One of my friends used to cry after watching your mock papers.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.

Danielle must’ve noticed my silence, because her expression softened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just… didn’t expect you to be you.”

“It’s fine,” I said automatically, even though it wasn’t.

People always had a reaction. The hagwon girl. The daughter of the ‘famous’ tutor. The perfectionist who got hospitalised from overwork and still topped the finals.

They never saw the real part. The part where I couldn’t sleep because I was too scared of letting my mom down. The part where my mom smiled at my report card like it was a business win. The part where I listened to her and my dad fight in whispers past midnight, because yelling might damage the brand. 

They just saw the name—the image. 

“Well,” Danielle said, and her voice was quieter this time, “you don’t seem like a hagwon robot. You seem… kind of cool, actually.” 

I wasn’t sure how to respond. So I didn’t. I just looked at her again, that wide-eyed smile and natural warmth. Something about her felt like a direct contradiction to my life. A breath of air when I’d been underwater too long. 

My phone buzzed in my blazer pocket—a message from Heesoo.

Ban Heesoo

u better not be late on ur first day, loser 🙄

also, pls try not to make everyone fall in love with u again 

or do, up to u

I laughed under my breath. 

Danielle peeked over. “Ooh, who’s that? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” 

“She’s my best friend,” I said. “Ban Heesoo.”

Danielle grinned. “She sounds fun.” 

“She is.” 

The silence that followed was easier, less loaded. Like we’d crossed an invisible line — from polite strangers to maybe, possibly not-strangers. 

“Come on,” Danielle said after a moment, tugging me toward the glass doors. “Let’s go find your homeroom. And don’t worry about the hagwon thing. This place? No one’s perfect. That’s kind of the point.” 

And for the first time that morning, I wasn’t sure if I felt dread or something else entirely. 

Please let me know what you think! I learn pretty quick and I'm open to all sorts of comments, feedback, advice, constructive criticism or compliments 😉

[loceiswhereyouleastexpectit]

Soon enough - Chapter 6

Word count - 1.7K

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: Guys idk how some of these writers be putting out like 9k stories a day. This already felt like a lot for me. Sorry for the slow pace. I just like to give my heart to every scene. Hope you like it. LMK IF YOU HAVE IDEAS PLEASE!

Chapter 6 

Azzi POV

Once Azzi showered and got herself looking somewhat put together, throwing on one of Paige’s hoodies and jeans, she decided to head back to her room. She always had a habit of taking Paiges clothes, they just fit her better, felt better than her own, but mostly, they smelled like Paige. A thick aroma of vanilla and soap masked the clothes, making the girl feel warmth every time she wore them.

Their rooms were only a few doors away but as she approached her hotel room, there was already an abundance of noise coming from it. She noticed the door was unlocked. As she opened the door the first thing she saw was her agent, pacing up and down, clearly just as stressed out as Azzi. 

“Azzi where have you been, I have been calling you,” Azzi realized her phone had been dead for some time now and never got the opportunity to charge it. 

“Im so so sorry, I was just in Paiges room Maria, everything is ok. We still have so much time. If Paige isn’t getting ready yet then why should I?” Azzi claimed, trying to make sense of the situation. 

“Azzi, you dont understand, there’s so much we have to do, your hair, god thats already gonna take three hours, everyone is waiting for you, come on,” her agent said. 

“OK, im here.” Azzi sat down in the chair and immediately was surrounded by three women, already detangling and washing her hair. 

A few moments passed and she heard a few knocks on the door, hopefully it was someone to calm her down. 

Caroline and KK walked through the door, still in there sweats, clearly not close to being ready for the night. 

“HEYYYYYYY, whose ready for the biggest night of our lives!!!!!” KK exclaimed, clearly excited for her best friend. 

“Hey guys, why aren’t you getting ready?.” Azzi questioned. 

“Girly pop, we aren’t the ones sitting front and center with the star herself, we got more than enough time”. KK said. 

“How you feeling?” Caroline asked, already feeling Azzi’s nerves. 

“Im ok, I meann, look at me, clearly im not ready and idk if Paige is even back yet. I just feel uneasy.” Azzi finished almost feeling out of breath. 

“Azzi, you are gonna look beautiful as always. Don’t stress” Carol said. 

“Its not about that, its about Paige I guess” Azzi admitted, already feeling watched by the two girls.

“OK real talk” KK said, both girl sitting down on Azzi’s bed, “Your girl, she’s leaving, we all know it, are we all sad to see her go, ofc we are, she’s our star. But just enjoy it, enjoy her, because I know once she gets on that plane, there are gonna be some things you will regret not doing or saying, so just live these next few days with zero regrets, that’s all you can do for yourself.”

“And, imagine how Paige feels, she’s going to a new city, with people she doesn’t know, building a new life with a new organization. All she wants is comfort from her best friend, so thats all she needs from you.” Caroline finished. 

Azzi thought for a second, “best friend…, do you think thats all I mean to her?” Azzi asked both girls, trying to share some of what she had been feeling these last few months. 

KK and Caroline immediately stared at each other, knowing where this was going, however, they decided to play dumb. 

“Girl what do you mean?” KK asked.

“It’s just idk, sometimes, recently, Paige she just gives me different feelings. Like when we cuddle sometimes, I just feel different. It’s not how it used to be. At least not always. I mean yes she’s still my best friend, but I can’t help but notice how undeniably beautiful she is, especially fresh in the morning. I mean it's hard sometimes, the lines between friendship and more get a little blurry when I think too much about it. About her”. Azzi had been so lost in thought she didn’t even realize how her friends were looking at her. Even the women, brushing her hair, had stopped for a second. 

Caroline broke the silence.“Azzi, you guys clearly aren't just ‘best friends’. I mean look at it this way, who asks there best friend to be at there table. Literally no one, she had so many people to ask but she choose you. YOU. Not her dad, or drew or her mom. You. So, what does that say about your bond, its clearly more than a friendship”. 

“Carol, but how do you think she feels.”

“Azzi, no one can know how she feels for sure besides her, but the real question is how do you feel?”

And just as those last words left Caroline’s mouth the blonde walked in. Grey hoodie swallowing her thin frame and grey sweats. She had two bags of food in her hand, the scent filling up the room, making Azzi’s stomach grumble. 

“Oh, Hey guys, didn’t know you all would be here, would have brought more food,” Paige said looking at KK and Caroline. The her attention turned to Azzi. “I texted you but you didn't respond but I brought you a salad, I know you get nervous before big things like this, but if you want something heavier you can have some of my Canes.”

All eyes were now on Paige. Everyone could see her kindness for the younger girl. 

“Thanks Paige” Azzi said softly. But just as she was about to say something else, her agent walked back into the room. 

“Paige don’t you have to get ready? It’s your big day.”

“Nah, I got time, ill chill with Azzi for a bit.” Paige said, knowing she actually didn’t have time and her own agent would be hunting her down soon enough. 

“Well” said Carol, “we'll get out of your hair, literally”, pointing at the tangled mess of Azzi’s curls. “See you guys later ok” said said pulling KK away from Paige’s food, already attempting to steal a fry. “UH fine, have fun guys, you gonna kill it Paige” KK said, but just before Caroline and KK left the room Caroline whispered to Azzi, “not all best friends do all this, just saying”.

Azzi cheeks were a little flushed out of embarrassment. As the two left the room, it was just Piage and Azzi, Paige giving Azzi a confused look as she sat down in a chair. 

“What carol say?” The blonde asked. 

“Nothing nothing, she’s just being a smartass.”

“Right, sure. How’d you sleep, you were knocked when I left.”

Azzi gulped, “Fine.”

Paige got up from her seat and gave her her food, “Here eat”. She’s always taking care of me. 

“Im not that hungry, maybe later.”

“You sure, I know you get cranky.”

“Paige, im fine.” Azzi said maybe a little to sharply. 

“Ok, sorry im just making sure your ok.” Paige said. 

“Paige, im sorry, just a little out of it right now, shouldn’t you go get ready.” The curly haired girl said, eye already sad. 

“Yea, I wanted to soak up some time with you first, but if your not in the mood, ill leave”, Paige said already packing up her food, only taking a few bites from her chicken. 

Azzi suddenly remembered what KK and Caroline said, “no stay, please.” Azzi said, knowing that she would only get a few more moments like this with the blonde. 

“You sure, because I can go-”

“STay.” The younger girl said, almost like a plea. 

“Okay.”

The two girls quietly stared at one another which felt like hours but was merely minutes. Eventually Paige finished up eating her food, and by that time the women working on Azzi’s hair had it all washed and untangled. 

They decided to let her pick her dress before they blow-dried her hair, knowing it would get a little frizzy in the process. 

Paige was staring at her phone but as soon as Azzi tried on her first dress all her attention shifted towards her. 

Azzi tried on four different dresses, each one feeling more and more uncomfortable until she found “the one.”

At least that’s what Paige had called it.

As she slipped on the low v neck, almost see through black dress, everyone in the room stilled. 

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror and felt almost beautiful. It felt right and when she turned around to ask Paige what she thought, already vetoing the other options, the older girl looked starstrucked. 

“Thats the one Azzi.”

“Really, you think so.”

“Yes” Paige said as she slowly approached Azzi, gently as if she was approaching a real diamond. “You look wow, amazing, spectacular, all the words in the dictionary.”

Azzi giggled, feeling under pressure at all the eyes on her. But mostly the piercing blue eyes that belonged to the blonde. 

“Thank you, I think its the one, but im still gonna try on the others.” her indecisiveness getting in the way.

“No Azzi, im telling you this is the one, I feel it.”

“Your right” she said as she turned around to look at herself once again. This time though, the blonde peeped through and threaded her fingers around Azzi’s waist. 

She whispered in her ear, “You look beautiful,” and at those words, Azzi was weak in her knees, knowing that if Paige wasn’t right behind her, steadying her, she would have fallen. 

Azzi slowly turned her head towards Paige, making eye contact with her blue eyes. Please don’t leave. Thats all she was thinking. If you weren’t leaving soon I would kiss you right now and we would figure it out. The two girls were so lost in each other that neither realized Paige’s Agent had barged in. 

“PAIGE, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN. YOU HAVE TO LEAVE IN TWO HOURS.” Paiges agent yelled as the two girls quickly separated from one another. 

“Im sorry, truly, lost track of time. Don’t worry, we still have plenty of time” she said to her agent, then she turned to Azzi “I gotta go, but you look like a princess, ill see you in a bit okay” she said so softly only Azzi could hear. 

“Ok.”

Then Paige left, but before she disappeared through the door, she turned her head and gave Azzi a wink. Assuring her that everything would be ok. 

[veevettel]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET

CHAPTER 1: Loving him was red 🏎️ CHAPTER SUMMARY: The internet goes crazy, so the Formula 1 paddock does. A song just went viral on YouTube by an anon user, but Seb remembers Diana's voice all too well and, to his not so surprise, he somehow realizes that's her... singing a song that might actually be about him. ⤷📚 SERIES SUMMARY: Diana Wagner's plans didn't include her finding out she was pregnant with her long time boyfriend, three-time Formula 1 world champion, Sebastian Vettel. Neither was breaking up with him in 2013... or having to face him again 5 years later when she became viral after posting a song dedicated to him.And, of course, having his daughter he knows nothing about. ‼️ WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of sex and one night stands.

SERIES MASTERLIST ✰ WATTPAD

2018 April 27th Baku, Azerbaijan

Sebastian woke up as soon as he felt the sun's rays hitting his face and, at that moment, he noticed a strangely warm presence beside him in bed.

Glancing at his phone, the Ferrari driver saw that it was already half-past seven in the morning. Not only had he realized that his alarm hadn't gone off and he'd overslept by an hour and a half, but it was also Diana's birthday.

As every year, there was no response to the email he had scheduled to be sent at midnight.

After nearly five years of barely knowing anything about her and only catching glimpses of her a couple of times in Heppenheim, he understood, deep down, why he kept reaching out in this small way. He still loved her as much as he did the first day they met... if not more. He longed for a reunion where they could catch up on their lives and restart a simple friendship as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't chosen to leave his life and pretend not to know him.

Vettel decided to turn over and see what was crowding him to the edge of the bed. He found himself staring into a pair of blue eyes, definitely not the green ones he'd dreamed of. This girl had brown hair instead of blonde, though her fair skin matched that of the woman who, apparently, had shared his bed last night.

Suddenly, hazy memories from a few hours earlier started to surface. A few beers at a local pub to escape the blurred memory of Di had led to meeting this charming young woman with a bright smile.

He couldn't piece together how they'd ended up here, but her persistence, his invitation for her to come to his hotel, and possibly a taxi ride he paid for, were all part of his attempt to escape reality.

This had become his routine since realizing his ex-girlfriend wasn't coming back into his life. He didn't like this version of himself, and despite efforts to find a stable partner, fleeting kindness and temporary refuge had been his best attempts to forget Diana Wagner, who always managed to slip into his thoughts when least expected.

Seb quickly got out of bed, and without thinking twice, he headed for the shower, trying to let the warm water wash away the events of the previous night. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift, hoping to organize his thoughts and find a way out of the problem he had created. But it was impossible.

Exiting the shower faster than he'd have liked, the German returned to the room with just a towel wrapped around his waist, leaving his torso exposed, only to find the last person he wanted to see at that moment.

The brunette was stretching in bed, dawdling as though reluctant to leave.

"Would you mind leaving?" he asked.

His rhetorical question made her look at him in surprise, her eyes still sleepy.

"Why, Seb? Can't we spend the day together? I could go with you to the paddock and we could repeat what we did last night in your room... or whatever you call it," she suggested with a playful smile. "You know as well as I do that it would be fun."

A knot formed in his stomach. It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed her company or was forbidden from doing so, but knowing who was turning thirty today, and that this exact invitation was something he used to do with Diana...

"I don't think it's a good idea..."

Damn, he didn't remember her name.

"Alessia."

"That's it, Alessia," Sebastian confirmed. "You know how these things are and what it could mean if we're seen together. We could meet another day as... friends."

Neither his response nor hers matched what the other expected. Hearing her name triggered a memory of the brief introduction she'd given him the night before: a musician just starting out, and a member of a successful Italian orchestra.

An Italian version of Di and, unfortunately for him, and perhaps the blonde, a successful one.

"The way you moaned my name last night so many times isn't exactly what friends do. You made me feel special last night. A lot, in fact."

"I'm really sorry, Alessia, but that wasn't what I meant," he clarified, cheeks flushing slightly at her words. "I hope you enjoyed what we did, but it's time for you to get dressed and head back to your hotel or wherever you're staying. I have to get to work," he added, fighting against her evident charms.

After several more attempts to persuade him, the girl finally resigned herself and reluctantly accepted his suggestion. He felt uncomfortable as she tossed aside the sheets and began gathering her clothes, entirely unclothed. He felt even worse as he noticed her slow, deliberate movements, as though she was prolonging the inevitable farewell and trying to tempt him.

He bit his lip and refrained from saying anything when she asked for help to zip her dress. Though Seb could've refused, he didn't want to come across as rude, especially given that their time together had made him feel, just for a moment, like he had with his ex-girlfriend.

Once they were finished, Alessia approached him with determination. Before he could react, her lips sought his with clear intent. Instinctively, he turned his face, causing her kiss to land on his cheek.

"Alessia..."

What could he say in a moment like this? Did she deserve the disappointment he was about to cause her, even though they'd only shared one wild night, like so many others he'd had since Diana?

"I'm sorry," she murmured, quickly glancing away. "I thought... you know, that we could have something more than just a one-night stand."

Seb's heart sank at her words, and, as he had foreseen because it always happened in these situations. Guilt overwhelmed him.

He knew he had been unfair to her by letting this happen, allowing her to think there could be more between them, that the issue lay with her, when the truth was he hadn't moved past the love of his life in nearly five years of no contact.

"Alessia, you're an incredible person," Vettel started, choosing his words carefully, trying not to hurt her more. "But right now, all I want to focus on is my work and... on myself. It wouldn't be fair to involve you in all this, only for you to end up hurt."

"I understand," the musician said softly, nodding with a sadness that, though expected, still surprised him. "Thank you for letting me spend this night with you, Sebastian."

A mixture of relief and remorse surged through the driver as he watched her leave, not even glancing back.

After waiting long enough to be certain he wouldn't cross paths with her again, he made his way down to the hotel lobby, still weighed down by guilt. He tried to shake it off, but the moment he saw Britta standing by the entrance, arms crossed, her expression stern and angry, he knew it wouldn't be easy.

"Sebastian, again?" she asked, full of frustration. 

"Yes, and I'm not going to apologize for something I don't regret," he replied sincerely, knowing there was no way to avoid the upcoming conversation. 

"Are you going to keep playing this game much longer?" Britta reproached, quickening her pace to avoid drawing attention. "You've gone longer than I'd like to admit without settling down."

"I will when I get tired of sleeping with girls I don't know, I suppose. Having sex is good for health, you know? Be thankful I don't cause you many problems after these nights," he replied with a smirk.

Britta sighed, visibly losing the little patience she had left.

"I know you didn't ask for my opinion, but I think what might make you tired of this routine of sleeping with strangers almost every Grand Prix weekend would be having some kind of interaction with Diana."

The mention of Diana's name stirred up a flood of emotions Seb had tried to bury for years, suddenly hitting him with full force.

"You know I can't do that. It's impossible. I've tried, but she doesn't want to cooperate."

"You should, at least, try once more. I know there's nothing, nor anyone, who can change her mind," Britta said, and it was true: Diana was the most stubborn person he'd ever met, for better or worse. "But I also know that if you keep avoiding your feelings and don't try to forgive yourself, you'll never find the peace you're not only wishing for but deserving of."

"I know, Britta, but..."

"But what, Sebastian?"

"Have you ever heard of the invisible string theory?"

She raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden change of subject and likely at being interrupted mid-sentence. Slowing her pace, for the first time that morning, the PR looked at him with a calm, understanding expression.

"Yes, I've heard something about that," she said, after what felt like an eternity. "What does that have to do with getting over your ex-girlfriend?"

"Well, everything, really," the driver replied. "Di and I "dated", if you can even call it that, for ten days during Christmas of '99. She was eleven, and I was twelve. I was a bit stupid because I ended up breaking up with her when I fell for a classmate who'd just moved to Heppenheim and who eventually started dating my cousin."

"But..."

"Then Di and I kept being friends," he continued, not letting her interrupt, "and it took us six years until she told me she loved me. I didn't want to admit my feelings and thought ignoring her for four months was the best way to deal with it, not even offering my condolences after her grandmother's death. And yet, in the end, I asked her to go out with me."

Britta sighed, perhaps tired of hearing the story yet again, a story he never tired of telling, because sometimes reality was stranger than fiction.

"I'm going to tell you what I've always told you since Di left, and I don't care if you don't want to hear it: you're still clinging to the hope that things will go back to how they were, even though you know it's not possible," Roeske said firmly. "Even if you ran into her and had a deep conversation, your lives have changed. Yours has, and I'm sure hers has too."

"I mentioned the invisible string theory because I feel there's something else. I feel there's an unknown tie between us, and... that the third time's the final one," he confessed.

Vettel's words seemed to catch her off guard. Britta slowed her pace and passed her accreditation to enter the paddock much more slowly than usual, visibly affected by his revelation.

Maybe Britta was right. Maybe he was holding on too tightly to the hope that everything could go back to how it was. But Seb really couldn't shake the dreams he'd been having about Di lately. After months without any, she'd slipped back into his nights, almost as though she'd never left, always close yet out of reach.

The last time he'd felt this way it ended with him watching her from afar, playing with a little girl, likely someone she was babysitting for extra cash. He hadn't dared approach; she seemed happy, genuinely so, and he didn't want to disrupt that.

"I'd like to keep talking about this," Britta's change in tone broke his thoughts, "but I need you to stop thinking about Diana, at least for a few hours, and focus on today. We have a lot to get through."

"Then enlighten me, master."

"First, you have a team meeting to discuss strategies for practice and ideas for tomorrow's qualifying," she explained, flipping open her planner to go over the day's schedule. "Then you've got an interview with SkySports... Nico Rosberg, I think, and maybe a chat about a potential brand collaboration, though I'll confirm that one."

"What time is the meeting with the engineers?"

"Around nine-thirty, but..."

Sebastian yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth, as Britta continued. Exhaustion from the previous night weighed on him, and he felt his eyelids drooping. He checked his phone: it was only eight-fifteen.

"Got it," he replied, pretending to have absorbed every detail. "By the way, do you mind if I head to my driver's room for a quick nap?"

"Sebastian..." Britta's arms were crossed, her gaze stern.

"I had a fantastic night," he admitted, earning an unimpressed look from her, "but I didn't get any sleep. If I want to perform well, I need at least a little rest, don't you think?"

"You have forty-five minutes, tops," she snapped. "Don't be late, or we'll have problems. Set your alarm, and make sure your phone's on in case someone calls."

It won't be Di, he thought bitterly.

"I will, don't worry."

After sharing a few more words with Britta, Seb headed off, feeling the fatigue settle in with each step. He knew he should have slept longer but had fallen into his usual habit of trying, unsuccessfully, to forget Di on her birthday.

As he walked through the pit lane, faint, distant chatter filled his ears, but he struggled to focus. All around him, people murmured excitedly, their words blending together in a low buzz. "Viral" and "song" seemed to be the day's main topics, particularly coming from Max, Daniel and Charles.

"Have you heard this song?" Verstappen asked, stopping Sebastian from walking as he recognized the opening piano chords. "It's like a pandemic, it's everywhere."

"I don't know who the girl singing is, but I must recognize she's incredibly talented," Ricciardo added.

"You don't even know if it's a girl!" Leclerc protested, playfully smacking Daniel on the arm. "What if it's a guy with a high voice?"

Sebastian chuckled at their antics, wondering if his former teammates had seen him that way back when he was their age.

Losing him was blue like i'd never known Missing him was dark gray all alone Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met Cos' loving him was red

If his eyes were almost closing automatically, after hearing the chorus or whatever it was called, it felt as if Sebastian had taken an energy drink that jolted him awake.

The moment that voice, both raspy and sweet at the same time, penetrated his ear, his hair stood on end. Its familiarity was incredible... but no, it couldn't be her. It was impossible.

"God damn, who can play the piano while singing?"

"I have two questions," Daniel blurted out, ignoring Charles' words. "The first one is who the hell it could be, and the second is how they've gotten so much attention out of nowhere."

It's Di, who else could it be, Sebastian thought.

He tried to control the flood of thoughts racing through his mind. He knew his ex-girlfriend's voice perfectly, and the one coming from the Dutchman's phone was eerily similar to hers.

"Maybe it's a marketing strategy. At least that's what Fernando thinks," Max always had the Spaniard's name in his mouth. "What if it's a record label's plan to generate interest in an artist or a song?"

"I highly doubt it. If they wanted that, the YouTube account wouldn't be named 151206010614."

Lewis appeared next to Sebastian out of nowhere. Quickly taking off his headphones, he unplugged them from his phone, letting the song play at full volume.

"Seb, are you okay?" the Brit insisted.

"Yes, yes... I was just a bit distracted," he replied hurriedly.

Lewis didn't seem satisfied with his answer, but Seb didn't care. All he could think about was reaching the hospitality area and taking a short nap.

"Are you also distracted by that anonymous person?"

"I can't be distracted by someone I know nothing about except for their voice," Vettel replied, gesturing toward the three drivers still engrossed in the topic.

"I've managed to hear a bit," Lewis replied. "I think I understand music a little more than they do. I'm almost sure this has nothing to do with a record label, and that someone simply uploaded it without any expectations. And look where it took them."

Sebastian looked at him, intrigued, understanding very little of what he was saying.

"Since you look confused, I'll explain a bit," Lewis continued. "It seems they uploaded this song, called Red, to YouTube," he hit play and started it again from the beginning, "It seems to be about a failed relationship, but no one knows who sings it or the story behind it."

"Does no one really know anything?" Seb asked, finding the situation strange.

Why was the voice only familiar to him? Could it be because it was Di's birthday, and everything reminded him of her more than usual?

"All we know is that the song is wonderful. I don't know who's behind it, but if they discover that girl, if it is a girl, and give her a chance, I'm sure she could achieve great things."

They decided to move further down the pit lane, exchanging a few words with others. Lewis kept talking about the song. Seb, however, couldn't stop analyzing the melody, the lyrics, the voice and, especially, the username. He sensed something hidden behind that combination of numbers, and now, the priority of getting some sleep before the first practice session had faded.

He tried all possible combinations, numbers from front to back, in pairs, trios, even quartets, but none seemed to fit. As the melody of Red resonated from Lewis's iPhone, Seb's mind kept probing, convinced that something about it was tied to Di.

Eventually, he thought he had the answer, recalling significant dates for them. If he divided the username into three segments, each with two pairs of numbers, the first one matched June 15, 2006: the day he had asked Di to be his girlfriend.

If that was true, the second pair corresponded to January 12, 2014. He wasn't dating Diana by then, but he knew her too well to be convinced that date must have been important to her if it was alongside their anniversary.

He wished he could know that meant to her.

"Are you listening to me?"

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go  But moving on from him is impossible When I still see it all in my head In burning red

Seb ignored Hamilton after hearing, for the first time paying extremely attention, that bridge. 

Somehow, the song described his feelings perfectly, and he didn't know why he felt that way. The truth is that he couldn't let go of Di, not when she had been, and still was, the love of his life. 

He entered WhatsApp almost automatically and went into his ex's profile. She had no profile picture, but he knew perfectly well that it was her because her contact was still saved with the same name. Seb then quickly wrote to her that he knew it was her hiding behind the song and that somehow, he knew she was talking about him. 

Vettel then saw Britta approaching them quickly. She was also engrossed in her phone, her fingers constantly moving over it. Seb didn't pay much attention to her because once he showed his desperation to Di, he moved on to conveying it to Hanna, trying to convince her to reveal that it was her best friend. 

"Seb, we need to talk," Roeske hurried to say, almost out of breath, her gaze still fixed on her device.

"Britta, I can't right now, I'm sending..."

"Sebastian Vettel, this is serious."

When Britta yanked the phone from his hands and made eye contact with her, Sebastian assumed things didn't seem to be going very well. The moment she turned her gaze to Lewis and he walked away, patting him on the shoulder, he knew.

"What's wrong with you?" Seb asked, quite angry. "Why are you acting like a neurotic who seems to have lost a million euros on a ridiculous bet?"

"I don't want you to answer anything related to that song that went viral, Red . I'm telling you, Sebastian, don't you dare answer anything about that damned song."

And again, this was another sign that happened to make him feel like he hadn't gone crazy.

"Sebastian, trust me," Britta remained firm in her expression, crossing her arms. "I don't want you to get into trouble because the song was uploaded by..."

"Di."

Sebastian Vettel saw the answer in her eyes. He knew her ,and knew she longed to answer him and, at the same time, she didn't. 

Britta Roeske knew that, but he also had the feeling she seemed to want to hide something. 

Looking at her face and considering her not only as the person he trusted the most, bust as a second mother, Seb knew his PR was definitely hiding something from him.

"It's her the one singing, right?" he insisted, but she didn't answer. "Britta, please: tell me."

Seb was desperate, and it was more than obvious. A sigh and a few seconds filled with uncertainty preceded her response:

"If you already know, why do you ask me? You know the sunshine of your life, as you still call her, much better than I do. Of course, it's Diana," she finally revealed, lifting a great weight off his shoulders and, above all, making him believe he could have faith in the future.

[alphashley14]

One of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

<Prev

Chapter 33

Got You

It was a little before midnight, but not a soul in the house was going to sleep any time soon. Ricky, alone in the conservatory, sat in one of the ornate black cast iron chairs at the table by the pond idly watching the ghost koi swim in arcs and circles. Their bones were stark white and glowing against the black water, ghostly iridescent fins flowing like silk. Ricky’s throat was hoarse, his eyes were bloodshot, and he’d cried what felt like every tear he had to shed. But now? Now he was quiet, and still, and numb. 

It was hard to believe how great the evening had been going only two hours before. 

After Ricky had gotten out of the shower, refreshed and finally clean, he had gone back downstairs to join the others. And much to his surprise and immense relief, dinner was waiting for them. Lewis had come home and gotten straight to cooking before making himself scarce again once the meal was ready. It was nothing compared to the enchilada-palooza the previous night, but that was a pretty damn high bar to meet. The conversations flowed and everything was delicious. Considering how god-awful most of the rest of the day had been, Ricky had actually been having a really nice night. 

After dinner while everyone was starting to clean up, Lewis finally slunk into the room. He said hello to everyone, and apologized for the abrupt manner in which he’d left the house earlier and to Ricky for seeing the footage in the first place, but Vivi of course had already explained everything and Ricky was quick to assure Lewis that he wasn’t mad or hurt by what had happened. He wished it hadn’t happened that way at all of course, but he knew it was nothing any of them could have helped. 

… Then Ricky asked how Arthur was doing. 

Lewis’ response? He discreetly asked Ricky, Vivi, and Fred to quietly follow him. Because they needed to talk. Alone. 

Never a good sign. 

He sat them down on the stairs in the foyer, away from everyone else’s ears. And as gently and kindly as he could, he told the three of them what had been waiting for him when he arrived at Destroido to check on Arthur. 

They hit him. 

And not just a slap. A lot more than “just a slap.” 

Under Professor Pericles’ instructions, Brad attacked Arthur from behind, pinned him down in front of at least a hundred Destroido employees, and beat him. 

They beat him. 

But there was more. Judy had destroyed his home. Damaged and even destroyed many of his possessions. Alice was involved now, and Pericles had used that infernal button on Arthur again, after he didn’t react the way the parrot wanted him to. But at least Arthur was safe, at least for the moment. Pericles, Brad, and Judy wouldn’t move against him so soon after a plan that drastic had failed so spectacularly. 

But there was more. On Arthur’s orders, Lewis had retaliated against Brad, Judy, and Pericles at the construction site for the fake Crystal Cove - a fake attack on a fake recreation of a false apocalypse. But this time, the ghost was real. And Pericles would be so busy investigating under the assumption of otherwise that he wouldn’t have the time of day to harass Arthur. But right as Lewis was about to begin his attack and cause some minor damage, he’d overheard Brad and Judy talking. And what did they have to say for themselves? 

“Maybe you should have hit him harder.”

This was the part where Lewis got to the reason he’d pulled Fred aside too. Regardless of their history, Brad and Judy were still Fred’s parents. Given such, Lewis believed he deserved to hear about it before anyone else. 

“I hurt them,” the ghost had sighed, once he was done explaining his trick with the tequila bottle. “I’m not exactly sure how bad, but I was at least careful not to cripple or kill. Brad got the brunt of it, and he should be down for the count for a while. And Judy’s going to need to take it easy too. In any case, neither of them are in any condition to try anything like the shit they pulled today any time soon. But still - they’re your parents, Fred. And I’m not sorry for what I did, but I am sorry for your sake. As horrible as they are and as much as I hate them, I consider you my friend. So I’m sorry, Fred.”

And Fred? Fred hadn’t been able to look at Ricky since the moment Lewis told him about what Brad had done. He just stared at the ground, fiddling with his ascot, until Lewis tilted his head up and pulled him in for a hug. Only then did Fred finally start to cry. And Vivi, who had only been holding it in by a thread, began to quietly sob as well. 

Ricky said nothing. Didn’t cry. Didn’t try to comfort them. He told himself he should, but his body simply wouldn’t do it. There was too much going on in his head, being held in by a thin barrier of nothing at all. That barrier wasn’t going to hold for long, and he didn’t want to be in front of anyone when it finally broke. 

Hugging himself, he calmly stood up and walked away. 

No one stopped him. He was glad they didn’t. But a small part of him wished they had. 

He walked to the back of the house and through the back doors into the conservatory, and once he was finally alone in that beautiful, quiet, dim place, the dam broke. And he wept. 

He wept for Arthur, who he hardly knew at all but who had done so much and who he loved as fiercely as if they’d been friends all their lives. 

He wept for Marcie and Alice, who had been dragged into his mess and whose help he didn’t deserve but by god was he grateful for them.

He wept for his employees, and he wept for Lewis, Vivi, and Fred. What they must think! And the others! Shaggy, Scooby, Velma, Daphne, and Cassidy. They were going to hear about it too soon, Ricky felt so ashamed and embarrassed he could die. He was going to lose everything he’d built. He felt as if he’d already lost everything.

But most of all? He wept for himself. 

Because as far as Pericles, Brad, and Judy were concerned? They hadn’t done those things to Arthur. They did that to him. My god, they did that to me! 

Ricky didn’t understand why he was surprised. This was hardly the worst thing they’d done to him, right? And it wasn’t as if it had really been him, had it? So really, it shouldn’t matter so much, should it? But out of everything else, that was what hurt the most. That even if it hadn’t been him, it might as well have been. That if Ricky had been brave enough, smart enough, and strong enough to do everything Arthur had done, this would have been their reaction. They never would have backed off. Never would have realized how wrong they were. They would have just gotten worse and worse and more violent, and now they’d beaten him. Like an abused dog. In front of so many people whose respect Ricky hadn’t realized mattered so damn much, but now that it was gone he felt its loss like a physical pain. 

Sooner or later, the crying died down, and the pain waned. Not gone, but receded, replaced by a heavy numbness that felt physically present in every limb. But the tide wasn’t gone, just out. And the waves would return. 

And now here Ricky was, watching the fish, feeling like he should be somewhere else, yet as if there wasn’t a single place in the entire universe where he belonged. Just a lone, lost astronaut in the vast, lonely vacuum of infinite space. Ship gone, crew gone, life support cut, and no gravity to pull him home. 

I’m not worth all this trouble, he thought to himself. He’d had the same thought before, but it seemed much clearer now. It would be easier for everyone if I just wasn’t in the equation at all. Pericles wouldn’t have Destroido’s resources. Arthur and Shaggy would be back in their own bodies. Everyone would be safe. That thing inside Nova should just suck me back into the Sitting Room and never send me back.

Come to think of it, maybe this line of thinking went even further back. What would it be like, a world without him? 

Without Ricky, everything would sure be a hell of a lot easier for the new Mystery Incorporated because all of his stupid mistakes never would have been made. Destroido wouldn’t exist either, and everyone the company had hurt- that he had hurt, would be much better off. Cassidy would be better off too. She never would have met him. Wouldn’t have wasted- wouldn’t be wasting her time on him. Maybe Brad, Judy, and Pericles would have been better off too. Without Ricky, their little group wouldn’t have fit the damn pattern, and none of them would have been dragged into this fucking curse. Without Ricky, maybe his parents would have had some other kid, and maybe Mom still would have died but at least Dad wouldn’t have been left alone!

Ricky closed his eyes, and yet another tear silently fell.

He didn’t like thinking about it. What his poor Dad must have gone through when Ricky never came home. It negated the conviction he felt, that he’d done the right thing all those years ago. That giving up everything had been worth something because at least Dad was safe. 

But if only. If only Mark’s kid had been anyone other than him.

I never should’ve been born, Ricky thought to himself. 

Ricky didn’t look up when he heard the door quietly open and then close. The footsteps were either Vivi’s or Velma’s, but Ricky didn’t bother turning his head to check.

She stopped right beside him, and Ricky knew he had to turn and look. To say something. Do something. But just like back in the foyer, he couldn’t bring himself to move. Finally, the presence at his side became too uncomfortable for him to ignore, and Ricky’s eyes finally flickered over, just briefly enough to catch a flash of blue turtle-patterned pajamas. 

Vivi. Of course. It had to be her. 

She had to resent him. Why wouldn’t she? Her friend had been ripped away from her, living in a stranger's hell where she couldn’t protect him. And it was all Ricky’s fault.

“Hey Vivi” he muttered, his voice coming out oddly monotone for as horrible as his insides felt. There were a million other things he wanted to say, all crowding around his tongue to get out, but the stubborn appendage just wouldn’t move to say any of them. 

“Hey,” she sniffed. But she sounded calmer and kinder than he had. “Are you okay?” 

No. I’m not okay. I’m the complete opposite of okay, Ricky thought to himself. But instead his mouth said, “I’m fine.” 

She huffed a laugh. “Liar.” 

Ricky ducked his head between his shoulders, and felt that tight feeling in his chest returning. The tides were coming back in. “... Yeah,” he said lamely.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked. 

“... No.” 

“Do you want to be alone?” 

“... No.”

“Okay. Neither does anyone else, if it makes you feel any better. Shaggy and Scooby raided our movie collection. We were all about to watch some Vincent Van Ghoul. Wanna come?” 

Ricky thought about it for a moment. Why was she being so nice to him, still? Wasn’t she angry? 

He nodded. 

Wordlessly, Vivi took his hand. She tugged him to his feet, and gently pulled him after her. Past the pond and out of the conservatory, past the mud room, and down another hallway. 

“... Are you okay?” He finally asked. It occurred to him that he hadn’t asked yet. Typical. Selfish prick.

“... No,” was all she said. 

They walked in silence for a little while longer, her calloused hand holding his larger, sweatier one. “... I’m sorry,” Ricky finally said. 

It took her a few seconds to respond. Was she holding her tongue? Filtering her anger before she spoke? Or like him, were her words failing her too? 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said at last, succinct yet firm. “None of this. Not a single bit. Is your fault.” 

Ricky stared at the back of her head while they walked, his thoughts racing ahead of him yet not knowing where to go. She had to be saying that to be kind, right? But for a lie, she sure sounded like she believed it. 

Vivi finally glanced back at him, and her smile was sad. “You remind me of him,” she told him. “-Of Arthur, I mean. You really are… a lot like Artie.” 

He wanted to argue. Or for her to tell him what she meant by that. But then they rounded a corner, and Ricky realized where she was taking him: the horror room Cassidy had taken them to earlier. The one with the figurines. 

Vivi led him inside, and Ricky immediately felt a bit bashful. He hadn’t thought to fix himself up after his latest breakdown, and he knew how he must look: rumpled, puffy eyed, and wretched. And he could feel the other eyes in the room on him, even as most of them tried to hide it. They, like him, were all dressed in their pajamas and sleepwear. Shaggy had just finished choosing a movie, and Scooby was organizing snacks and drinks on the coffee table. Velma, Daphne, and Fred were sitting in the big red bean bag chairs on the floor, and sitting on opposite ends of the wide blue couch were Cassidy and Lewis. 

Lewis had explained to them earlier that like the house, he was struggling to stabilize himself. And while he had made some progress, he still had work to do. He was sitting with his head resting on his palm and one of his ankles perched on a bent knee, stuck somewhere between his human and ghostly forms. He was mostly human again, complete with skull patterned pajama bottoms and a faded Sailor Moon T-shirt instead of his skeleton suit. But his scleras were pitch black, pink irises glowing neon in the dark of the room, and the edges of his hair were slightly translucent and ever so faintly glowing pink, with small flames flickering in his hair and across his shoulders and arms like a dying campfire. 

He and Cassidy both looked up when they noticed he and Vivi coming. Cassidy grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and stood up, and when Vivi guided him over next to her she wordlessly draped it over Ricky’s shoulders. Then Vivi lightly pushed him to make him sit, and when Ricky obeyed without question, they both sat down on either side of him. Cassidy on his right, Vivi on his left, with Lewis on Vivi’s other side and Mystery Incorporated on the floor. 

No one said anything to him. Just carried on their conversations from before or waited in surprisingly comfortable silence. But that didn’t bother Ricky at all. They’d brought him here. They wanted him here. Even when he felt and looked this awful - they didn’t want him to be alone. 

Shaggy and Scooby good-naturedly bickered about which movie to watch. Fred and Daphne cuddled - Fred was sitting in one of the bean bag chairs and Daphne was leaning against him between his legs. Fred had grown up a bit: their position had his cheeks and nose turning red, and Daphne was delighted about it. Vivi and Lewis meanwhile looked highly amused at the younger couple, Vivi bundled in her own blanket snuggled against Lewis. A few Dead Beats came in right as Shaggy and Scooby finally came to an agreement and started the movie. Two of them laid on the floor in front of the screen on either side of Shaggy like a couple of eager little kids, and the third one flicked off the lights, floated through the air, and finally curled up on the back of the couch beside Ricky’s head, purring like a housecat. 

“Psst. Uh - hey Ricky?” Fred whispered at his feet. Ricky glanced down to see Fred looking up at him over his shoulder from his place on the floor, uncertainty written all over his face. “Um. We don’t have to… talk about it or anything. I just- wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m uh- I’m really sorry.”

Ricky remembered their talk the previous day, and knew at once what he was sorry for. 

Ricky reached down and patted Fred on the head, lightly ruffling his hair. It was thick, yet soft, like Judy’s. But even still he muttered, “... You’re not your parents, Fred. What they do… it’s not your fault.”

Fred sniffed. “Thanks,” he said. But when he turned around to watch the screen he added, “... It’s not yours either.”

Ricky wasn’t sure he believed that yet, but he was grateful all the same.

The movie hadn’t been on for very long when Vivi cried. Quiet, and into the pillow she was hugging. No one drew much attention to it. Lewis wrapped a large arm around her and pulled her closer to his side. Velma silently passed her a tissue. Scooby got up and laid his large head on the edge of the couch beside her. Ricky reached over and placed a hand on her foot, where her feet were tucked up on the couch beside him. Just letting her know he was there. 

Ricky cried again right at the start of the second act. Stifled in the palm of his hand, black and white actors playing pretend blurring through his tears. But no one seemed to mind. No one called much attention to it either. Cassidy wordlessly wrapped her arm around his and interlaced their fingers. Vivi silently returned the favor and placed a hand on his back. Scooby moved again, this time to put his head in Ricky’s lap. Shaggy scooted backwards away from the TV and leaned back against the couch between Ricky’s legs and Vivi’s, just to be closer. 

It was only then that Ricky got the strangest feeling of deja vu. Almost as if… this had all happened before. 

They never went to bed, just watched the movie. Because the others were too tired to go up or just didn’t want to be alone, Ricky wasn’t sure. No one talked about Arthur, either. Not because they had forgotten about him or were trying to minimize… any of it. But the past two days had felt like much, much longer. And perhaps, like Ricky, everyone was just tired. 

The kids fell asleep first. Shaggy and Scooby in a pile at his feet, Fred and Daphne snuggling in their bean bag, Velma curled up in hers. The second act was coming to a close when Vivi began snoring beside him. And as for Ricky? He wasn’t sure when he or Cassidy fell asleep. But he never saw the end of the film. 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

It was late, or rather early, when Ricky woke up. And he did not wake up slowly or naturally. Just suddenly blinked his eyes open, an ache in his neck, looking up at the ceiling of the horror lounge. He took his head off of the back of the couch with a groan. He couldn’t be sure what time it was, as the room had no windows, but everyone else was still asleep. Ricky honestly wasn’t sure why he’d woken up to begin with, but he had this… feeling. Like he was being watched. 

Still, he couldn’t help but smile. He and Cassidy had been sleeping side by side, leaning back against the back of the couch, but Cassidy’s head had slipped off at some point in the night and her head was on his shoulder, her arm loosely linked around his, one leg propped up on the edge of the seat, against his thigh. 

On his other side, Lewis had extracted himself and left at some point in the night, leaving Vivi sprawled across the remaining two cushions, one leg up right beside his head and the other thrown across his lap, loudly snoring. 

Ricky’s eyes wandered around the room. The kids were in the same place they’d been last night: Daphne cuddling Fred on the bean bag, Velma curled in the other, and Shaggy and Scooby in a dog pile on the floor. What time even was it? The room had no windows so he couldn’t be sure. The popcorn and mess from the snack table was still there, but the Dead Beats had left. And the TV was still on, but it had gone to static- 

Ricky froze.

Laying directly in front of the TV, sitting up staring straight at Ricky, was the black silhouette of a large white dog, and it wasn’t Mystery. He had the same colors and markings, a thick red collar around his neck and a pair of gold spectacles resting on his snout. But he was larger than Mystery’s usual dog form, with long fur, a long fluffy tail, and an intelligent, fox-like face. Ricky recognized the shape of the breed easily: border collie. But its eyes were glowing a menacing, vibrant red against the black of his shadow. Like a hellhound, Ricky thought. But he wasn’t afraid. And for only a second, he wasn’t sure why. Then, in the far recesses of his mind, a barrier crumbled, a memory snapped back into place- 

And Ricky suddenly, vividly, remembered exactly where he knew this dog from.

“Koa?” he muttered.

Koa’s tail thumped twice on the ground. Then abruptly, the dog stood up and slunk out of the light of the television, past Ricky, and into the dark. 

“Koa-! Wait!” Ricky reached out to stop him and at once, without thinking, he all but jumped to his feet to go after him. But in doing so, he jostled Cassidy awake, then immediately tripped over Fred, Daphne, Shaggy, and Scooby.

“Ow!”

“Huh? Wha?”

“Yipe!”

“Like hey! What gives?” 

“Sorry! Scuse me!” 

It didn’t even occur to him to stay and apologize properly. As soon as Ricky had his footing again, he was stumbling over bodies and taking off into the dark after Koa, with Cassidy now wide awake and charging after him close behind. 

Koa! But it- it couldn’t be Koa! Koa had been an old dog even back when Ricky knew him, and that was twenty years ago! It couldn’t be!

“Ricky! What is it? What the hell is going on?!” Cassidy demanded. But Ricky was so focused on the white shape ahead of them, he hardly noticed her speaking.

The dog wasn’t going very fast, but no matter how fast Ricky ran he couldn’t catch up. Every time he rounded a corner he would catch the barest glimpse of the dog’s tail and hindquarters disappearing around the next bend. It was morning, but early. The windows they passed were letting in the first of the day’s sunshine. Koa led them all the way through the downstairs, past the library, through the foyer, and past the kitchen, until Ricky finally saw him duck into one of the other lounges - the Family Room where Ricky and Cassidy had fallen asleep yesterday. 

Ricky finally stopped in the doorway, panting, and Cassidy nearly ran into him when she stopped beside him, just as breathless. 

“Ricky would you please-” But Cassidy stopped with a gasp mid-sentence when her eyes landed on the dog. 

Koa was sitting on the floor with his back to them on the opposite side of the room, morning light shining down on the black spot on his back, ears up and tilted back, listening and waiting for them to catch up. 

“Koa…” Ricky laughed through his panting in spite of himself. 

“There’s no way,” Cassidy muttered. “That’s impossible.” But as impossible as it was, as crazy as it was, as much as his mind and his heart were racing, Ricky was happy to see him. It felt suddenly like- like he was seventeen again, and the dog of his childhood had come to visit. 

Koa finally looked back at him, his tail thumping against the floor. But his ears were drooped, and his eyes were sad.

And then, he spoke. “Hello, Ricky. Good Morning, Cassidy.” 

Mystery’s voice finally made it click. What he’d been told and the memories flooding back suddenly met in the middle. Koa was Mystery. Mystery was Koa. Mystery had been Koa all along! Everything that had happened 20 years ago- Ricky’s entire childhood and probably even before then. Mystery had been there. For everything.

Ricky hadn’t thought about Koa in years. It was as if his memory had blotted him out entirely. Which didn’t make sense. Koa might not have been his dog, but he’d been a major part of his life! Koa was the closest thing Ricky had to his “own” dog when he was a kid. Hell, he was there for his first job. Ricky would spend the night at the Yukinos’ house once, sometimes twice a week to babysit their- 

The Yukinos. Their… their little girl. 

Just then, Vivi came running up behind them with Mystery Incorporated close behind. “It is- way too damn early for this shit!” She panted. “Now will one of you please tell me what the hell is going on?!” 

But Ricky wasn’t listening. He was staring at Vivi, like he was seeing her for the very first time. And so was Cassidy. 

He remembered. And now he was asking himself how the hell he ever could have forgotten. 

“Bitsy Blue?”

Vivi went rigid beside him, and slowly looked at him. “... How do you know that name?” She asked. “My- they used to call me that when I was a kid. Where- where did you hear it?!” 

“Oh my god…” Cassidy muttered, her hand had come up to cover her mouth. All the time she’d spent with the Mystery Skulls, all that time she’d stayed with them before, and she never remembered- never realized-

But Ricky could hardly hear either of them. And when he looked at Vivi, all he could see was a tiny, round-faced little girl in her pretty blue snowflake patterned yukata with her hair tied up in her teeny pigtails. Looking up at him, bouncing up and down begging him to tell her another story. Another mystery. “Mystery!” She used to shout! “Mystery! Mystery!” And when he agreed she’d squeal and cheer and run up to hug his legs. The last time he’d seen her, her little head hadn’t even come up to his hip but now… 

“You got so big,” he murmured. 

Vivi’s eyes widened, but neither of them got the chance to say anything more before Lewis came up beside her, confused about why everyone was all worked up this early in the morning. 

Ricky’s heart leapt to his throat, and he remembered. Lewis. Lewis Nocenda. Little Lew Lew. Vivi’s sweet little friend who followed her around everywhere and-

He died. 

It felt like the wind had been punched out of him. Little Lewis. Louie Lew. Muffin Top. He’d grown up. His life had just been getting started-!

Cassidy had wordlessly all but yanked a very confused Lewis and Vivi into a hug, and Ricky found his feet failing him. He stumbled two steps and all but fell onto the couch. He was starting to hyperventilate. A whole childhood worth of repressed, edited memories rushing back all at once. Ricky wasn’t crying, but tears were streaming down his face and his heart was pounding in his ears. He knew them. He knew them! And all this time he hadn’t remembered a thing! But now suddenly, vividly, he remembered them all! 

How the hell could he ever have forgotten? All of his family’s wonderful friends. People he’d grown up with. People who had practically raised him. The Yukinos, the Nocendas, the Peppers and the-

Ricky shakily looked over at Shaggy. Shaggy, wearing Arthur’s skin, and he had to press his palms over his mouth to keep from screaming. THE KINGSMEN! The Kingsmen and their adorable little boy. Little Artie, who got scared when Ricky told his friends about monsters and mysteries, but who was so brave he sat through them anyway. Tiny, quiet little Artie Art, half the size of the rest of his class, in his baggy orange shorts and his sunflower shirts. With that permanent worried look on his face. 

Ricky had looked Mr. Kingsmen- (“Please! Call me Gawain!” The man used to laugh,) -Had looked Gawain dead in the eye and promised he’d look after his little Doodlebug. He promised! And now Arthur was-

“Oh no… Oh noooo!” Ricky sobbed. His hands were shaking, and all he could do was wrap them around himself and cry. What had he done? What had he done?! “Arthur- oh god Artie-” 

“It’s not your fault,” Koa said. And at those words, Ricky felt an unnatural sense of calm start to take hold of him, calming his nerves, slowing his heart rate, smoothing out the panic just enough for him to think clearly. Mystery’s magic at work, he realized. Ricky looked up. The dog was sitting right in front of him, and the look in his eyes- Ricky could see the kitsune in him clearer than ever before. Those were old, tired, guilty eyes. Ricky had seen the same expression in the mirror a hundred times before. 

Then a horrifying thought came to mind. “Did he-” Ricky gasped, a nail pinched between his teeth. “Does he remember? Arthur- Is that why he did this?!” He cried. 

“No,” Koa said. And there wasn’t so much as a hint of a lie in his voice. “He doesn’t remember. None of them do. Look how confused Vivi and Lewis look. They were three, Ricky. They didn’t need me or a curse to help them forget.”

Tentatively, uncertain, Koa- Mystery put his head in Ricky’s lap, and it took him completely by surprise when Ricky dragged him closer and slid his arms around his neck, his face buried in soft white fur. Taking comfort in the familiarity of his oldest friend.

Koa’s tail thumped against the floor, his head on Ricky’s shoulder. Cassidy knelt down beside them and started petting his neck, and Koa arched his head towards her to lean into her touch.

“I’m sorry,” the dog said. “All this time… I’ve wanted to tell you. But you didn’t remember. And I knew it was bound to come back all at once. I knew the truth had to come out, but so much else was happening. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You were there…” Cassidy murmured. “All that time… you were there, and we never even knew it.”

“Yes,” Mystery sighed. “Yes, I was.” 

“... We thought you were just a dog,” Cassidy said. And there was an edge to her voice, now. “But you were- all along!” 

He lied, Ricky realized. And the realization had him letting go of Koa- of Mystery and pulling away. He lied twenty years ago, and he’s been lying ever since. 

“Tell me everything,” Ricky begged. “Please, I- I need to understand!” He pleaded. 

“We all do,” Vivi said behind them. She sounded… shell shocked. Ricky looked up. 

She was standing by the coffee table with Lewis and all of Mystery Incorporated gathered around her. Mystery’s photo album, the one he’d brought down yesterday that no one had actually had the chance to look at, was laying open in her arms, and Vivi, Lewis, and the kids were all staring at the first page, thunderstruck. 

“What is that?” Cassidy asked. 

Vivi wordlessly walked over to them and turned the book around in their faces. 

Ricky suddenly remembered that strange inkling he’d gotten last night. That feeling. 

Oh… Deja vu, indeed. 

Slid into the picture slot on the first page all by itself was a black and white photo. Ricky, not long after his seventeenth birthday, sat on a familiar sofa in a familiar living room. The Yukinos’ house - he knew it well. He hadn’t known the picture was being taken, and neither had anyone else in the photo. Ricky was playing some song on his keytar for three small, adorable little kids listening with rapt attention. Cassidy sat at his right, singing along with him. Professor Pericles was perched on the back of the couch, reluctantly amused. Vivi sat to the left of him, clapping and laughing, Lewis was standing on the seat beside her, dancing, little Arthur Kingsmen was sat cross legged on the floor watching and listening to Ricky play with utter awe written on his little face… and Koa was sitting beside him, his chin on Ricky’s knee, tail up mid-wag. 

Beside the photo was a small description, written in Japanese kanji. 

“What- what does that say?” Ricky asked. 

Vivi translated it out loud as well as she could. “One of my favorite moments from before everything changed. The adults were at a Town Hall meeting, and Ricky, Cassidy, and Pericles were over to watch the kids. Brad and Judy stopped by for something about their latest mystery, but they didn’t stay long. (Judy took this photo.) Arthur asked for a song after storytime, and it soon became a dance party. Ricky and Cassidy played ‘Ghostbusters’, ‘We Built This City’, ‘I wanna Dance with Somebody’, and ‘I love Rock n’ Roll.’ The little ones couldn’t get enough.”

For a few moments, no one said anything. Then Ricky wiped a stray tear away and finally looked up at Koa with a sniff. “Tell me everything,” he begged. “Please.” 

Koa nodded. “I promised I would,” he said. 

Just then, Ricky’s, or rather Shaggy’s, notoriously unreasonable stomach rumbled loudly. 

Koa chuckled, and in spite of himself Ricky snorted a laugh too. 

“After breakfast?” Koa asked. 

“After breakfast,” Ricky sighed. 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Breakfast went by extremely quickly, even with eight living people to feed, and especially considering that Ricky (who was in Shaggy’s body obviously), Scooby, and Vivi were among them. 

Ricky supposed that like him, everyone was itching for answers. 

It was also somewhat awkward. 

Ricky and Cassidy both had memories that were still coming back, and looking at Vivi, Lewis, and Shaggy (who of course was in Arthur’s body) had become… strange.

Imagine a part of your brain suddenly teleports from the you of twenty years ago to the present. For Ricky and Cassidy, they were suddenly seeing the Mystery Skulls through the lens of their current and seventeen year old selves at once. The last time they saw Vivi, Lewis, and Arthur, they were not even a year out of diapers. And now here they were, all grown up. 

All things considered, they were both finding it hard not to stare. 

“What?” Vivi laughed awkwardly. 

“Sorry,” Cassidy said quickly, looking back down at her food. “This is just-”

“Surreal,” Ricky said. 

“Exactly. I mean- the last time I saw you, you were… tiny.” 

“Well- we’ve been together all this time, right?” Lewis said from where he was hovering in the doorway. “So…”

“That’s why it’s weird,” Ricky said. “It’s like- the current and past versions of you are existing in my brain at the same time. Almost as two different people, and I’m having trouble connecting the two.” 

“Exactly! Exactly!” Cassidy cried. “It’s like the timeline is all messed up in my brain. Obviously we were all together yesterday, but at the same time? That photo Ricky showed us also feels like yesterday.”

“And while we’re on the subject,” Velma said, “could someone please explain to us what the heck that was back there? Or what’s even going on?” 

“Reah!” Said Scooby.

“Like yeah. I’m totally lost,” Shaggy said. 

Ricky sat back in his chair with a deep sigh, running his hands over his face. 

“When I was a kid,” Ricky said, “I didn’t have any extended family. My parents were both only children, my grandparents on my Dad’s side passed away when I was too young to remember them, and my Mom’s family was from out of state, so we didn’t see them very often. So what my family did have were our friends. Particularly the Yukinos. Our families had been friends for… ever. They lived just on the next block over from us, just barely within sight of our house. And Koa, who I guess was a freaking kitsune in disguise the whole time, was their dog. The Yukinos’d had him for almost as long as I could remember.

“Our families had been friends with the Kingsmen for almost as long, but they lived on the other side of Crystal Cove near Darrow University, where Arthur’s Dad worked. So it wasn’t like they were a couple minutes’ walk from my house like the Yukinos were. But your Dad, my Dad, and Arthur’s Dad were… best friends. We were- that was our village. Everyone looked out for everyone else, and everyone helped look after each others’ kids. And when I got old enough, the Yukinos and the Kingsmen started giving me an allowance to look after their kids, Vivi and Arthur. And also Lewis. 

“My Dad had a small renovation business when I was younger. And Lewis, your Dad was one of his employees and they became fast friends. So my Dad invited your Dad to a couple of get togethers, and before we knew it they were part of our tribe too. They then somehow brought the Peppers in a couple years later. They were a young couple just starting out who worked in this Mexican Restaurant. It’s not around anymore though. I think there’s a friggin cheese place where it used to be. But still, the Peppers and the Nocendas were nowhere near as close to us as the Yukinos and the Kingsmen.”

“My family was part of the group too,” Cassidy explained, taking a sip of her coffee. “When I was really young, my mother and I moved a lot to live on base wherever my Dad was stationed - military family, you know. But eventually, my mother got sick of it. Wanted to be more than just a soldier’s wife. And to settle down and give me some stability. So she bought a house in Crystal Cove and let Daddy keep life on the base. Bought it from the Yukinos, actually. Vivi’s family owned a lot of land and were super into real estate. That’s how we met. They knew what it was like to give up everything and move for greener pastures. And what it was like to face discrimination: It was the eighties. So I’mma be blunt: we were black, a lotta people in Crystal Cove were racist, and the Yukinos weren’t. So they introduced my mother to all their friends who also weren’t racist. That’s how I met this one,” she said, jabbing a thumb in Ricky’s direction. 

“Yep,” Ricky laughed, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “First Day of Seventh Grade. Our parents realized we were going to be in the same class and that we were going to be on the same bus route, and my Dad asked me to be nice to you because you didn’t know anybody. Pericles didn’t like it. Thought he was all the friends I needed. But I kept an eye out for you anyway.” 

“-Then as soon as you asked- sorry, shouted at me to sit next to you, you froze up and I ended up carrying the conversation,” Cassidy smirked. 

Ricky went red in the face. “Yep. That- happened. But! I mostly un-froze by the time we got to school, we hit it off, Brad and Judy were in our homeroom class, and the rest is history.” 

“Wow. So that’s how you all knew each other,” Daphne said. 

“Mmm-hmm. So as you could imagine, these people were like, a huge chunk of my life. Of our lives,” Ricky said. “Except that for some odd, inexplicable reason, until the moment I saw Koa back there, they had all been just- erased from my memory. POOF.” 

“And now it’s all rushing back at once,” Cassidy said. “Do you have any tylenol by the way? My head’s killing me…” 

“I second that,” Ricky said from where he’d buried his face in his arms on the table.

Lewis made a waving motion with his hand, and one of the Dead Beats zipped off to get the meds. 

“Headache is a symptom of supernaturally-induced memory loss or recovery,” Lewis said. “You’ve both got a lot of important memories that were locked away for a very long time. Your brains are working overtime to sort and process the information. That’s why the timeline in your heads feels messed up right now.”

“It might be wise to wait a few hours before getting the full story from Mystery, but a few hours isn’t a luxury we can afford,” Vivi said. “Arthur’s plan goes into motion in…” she looked at her watch, “About fifteen hours.”

“It’s also possible that hearing the full story chronologically, especially from someone that was there, could help your minds re-sort the information much more quickly.”

“Then let’s get a move on,” Cassidy said. 

They ate the rest quickly and Cassidy and Ricky both took some tylenol when the Dead Beat came back. Then everyone haphazardly put their dishes in the sink to be cleaned later and headed back to the family lounge. 

They were getting close when a peculiar odor of smoke came from down the hall. 

“That can’t be a good sign,” Vivi sighed. 

“What? The smoke?” Cassidy asked. 

“He’s smoking kizami again. He all but quit after those studies came out in the 50s proving cigarettes were the cause of the lung cancer epidemic.” 

“Yeah,” Lewis added. “He only does it when he’s really upset about something, and this is the second time in two days.”

“Koa used to growl at Dad when he lit a cigarette around the kids,” Ricky said suddenly. Another memory returning. “Everyone assumed it was either the fire or the smoke he didn’t like. But it was only ever around the teens or children. And especially indoors.” 

“That’s right,” Cassidy said thoughtfully. “Koa always looked after us, and the little kids. Wanted to know where we were and what we were doing. Momma used to joke that the damn dog must’ve been a nursemaid or somethin’ in his previous life.”

“Everyone always said he was a smart dog,” Ricky muttered. Then he laughed mirthlessly. “Guess now we know why.”

Sure enough, they found Mystery in the sitting room. No longer Koa, but wearing one of his human forms. He was a beautiful young Japanese man dressed in a red haori over a white and black kimono, sprawled elegantly across the couch like a throne. He had pointed ears, black clawed fingertips, and sharp, clever features. His long black hair was partially tied up into a bun with a length of red ribbon, and he was blowing smoke rings from a long, ornate kiseru pipe while lightly bobbing his head along to a Mystery Skulls song that was quietly playing from some other room in the house.

“You got me sinking like a stone Feelings I've never really known And I wanna say it's all my fault But that'd be lying”

He blew another long puff of vibrant red smoke from between his thin lips when they entered. Then he stood, graceful and ethereal, and gestured for them to sit. 

They did. 

There was a long moment where Mystery said nothing at all, his back to them. Then finally, he spoke. 

“And I gotta say something (yeah) But my mind is drawing blanks And I gotta know one thing (yeah) But I forget what I was saying I'm gonna make this so easy for you You gotta hear me out”

“I have dreaded telling this story,” he said, “since the moment I learned the Original Mystery Incorporated was still alive. I am unused to- speaking my truth. There’s always been a mask. A filter. 

“The last time I was the main character of my own story, I didn’t know what a gift that was. So I squandered it. Lost my freedom. Became a guardian. And I realized something: the role of a supporting character… suits me better. My story does not matter. Not as much as my part in the stories of others. I exist… for their stories. To make sure their beginnings are peaceful and their endings are happy. To make them into the best versions of themselves.”

He paused. Catching himself rambling. 

“'Cause this love, you can't do without And I know, try to hear me out She's got me feeling (woo-hoo, woo-hoo) It's got me reeling (woo-hoo) So, won't you take me back.”

“All that is to say, it’s been… a long time. Since I had a new story of my own to tell. And I have thought, long and hard, all this time, about how to tell this one. But still, I fear my words will fail me.”

“You’ve really never told… anyone?” Vivi asked, as incredulous as she was worried. “Not even Grandma?”

“No,” Mystery sighed. “No one.” 

“Feels like I'm in this all alone Silent treatment, I'll never know You see your future without me The bad news surrounding, please”

“... You’re not just a side character,” Ricky said. Mystery glanced back at him, his eyes searching. “Your story matters too.”

The kitsune smiled, warm yet sad, and finally he perched himself on the arm of one of the sofas, the pipe held delicately between his blackened, clawed fingers.

“And I gotta say something (yeah) But my mind is drawing blanks And I gotta know one thing (yeah) But I forget what I was saying I'm gonna make this so easy for you You gotta hear me out-”

“Looking back,” Mystery began, “it all began long before any of you were born. Even before my family moved to Crystal Cove. Before the mysteries. Before the music…” 

Mystery took one long, deep puff of his pipe. Then he exhaled, and the smoke drifted up and dissipated above their heads. 

“The day Japan declared war on Germany: August 23rd, 1914.”

My good people. The wait. Is finally soon to be over. Next chapter, you finally get… THE LORE! I have been waiting for SO LONG to share this chapter with you all, and even longer for the next chapter. There is so much I love about this chapter. Koa is a side of Mystery I have waited a long time to properly reveal, and it's been frustrating to hold back on Ricky and Cassidy's repressed memories. And whoever points out the reference I made with my fan art for this chapter gets a cookie. There is so much more in this chapter I could talk about... or I could wait for the comments to see what all of YOU noticed, liked, and thought. (And please slide into my DMs if you want to talk about my work. Like do not hesitate. I love that shit. Makes my whole damn day.) As for the next chapter, I will be upfront with you all: it's going to take a while before you get the next chapter. There's a lot of research I need to double check and triple check, because the lore of this story is very much rooted in historical context, and a lot of the reasons certain characters behave the way they do connects back to their respective cultures. Japanese culture especially, because the story and most of the flashbacks in the next chapter are going to be from Mystery's point of view, and he and the Yukinos are Japanese Americans. And I want to tell those stories right. And also, telling Mystery's story is going to involve a lot of fan art. So I have a lot of drawing to do too! But I promise it's all going to be worth it. (I can't wait to hear everyone's theories. 😈) Until then, enjoy these Koa bonus doodles! I hope you love him as much as I do! ❤️

And of course here's the tag list! If you want to be added or removed, let me know.

@void-lioness @nikicherry1234 @angorwhosebabyisthis @lunasummers04 @orithereticent @mysteryskullsblog @the-moogle-of-your-nightmares @sfcabanasstarcgs

Chapters 1-33 of 'One of Us' are presently posted on Archive of Our Own.

[quinnwantswings]

this is probably the one kind of tag game thing I'll participate in—just fandom questions being passed around (not going to tag more people tho, hope that's ok. anyone who wants to can respond as though they were tagged!)

1. razor, OBVIOUSLY. tongues and teeth by the crane wives. ive grown a mouth so sharp and cruel it's all that i can give to you, my dear/and when you come in quick to steal a kiss my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear... whole song!!! also the dismemberment song, but that one mainly goes to number 5.

2. networked wild beloved!!!! her voice is a song, to me. i genuinely recite parts of this chapter to calm down. the ost is also absolutely incredible here. but for an unrelated song, crusherp's echo by gumi (the youtube upload version, i cant find that specific mix elsewhere) always reminds me of the whole chapter, because you are up against the echo in the mirror! please can i be colorful and free! what the hell's going on can someone tell me please, why im switching faster than the channels on tv/im black then im white no something isn't right, my enemy's invisible i don't know how to fight—the whole song is so heryoutogether <3 (also i prefer beast!wild, personally, which really fits with 'the trembling fear is more than i can take, when im up against the echo in the mirror')

3. wraith (she's hilarious, objectively in the right, and has some of if not the most impactful lines to me in the end fight. in your final moments, would you remove action itself from reality?) it's not a fashion statement, it's a deathwish by mcr. the damage you've inflicted, temporary wounds, im coming back from the dead/and ill take you home with me, im taking back the life you stole—hip-hip-hooray for me, you talk to me, but would you kill me in my sleep? lay still like the dead—i will avenge my ghost with every breath i take!—this hole you put me in wasn't deep enough, and im climbing out right now/you're running out of places to hide from me—ive lost my fear of falling, i will be with you, i will remember you! last bit is bringing her to shifty. to me. <3 patd's emperor's new clothes and raise no fool by set it off also have wraith vibes

4. den/beast (i love them equally, and beast's cabin monologue and end fight argument is really really good, not least because of the response options lmao, don't think i need to explain den) this is a silly one but animals by maroon 5 lol. the lyrics do fit XD for a serious one, butchers vanity!! but that one also fits SO MANY (go see the incredible amv someone made on youtube if you haven't!). there's also EVOLVE by shinedown!

5. fury (adversary. it's a near tie with apotheosis for her arc and i really love tower fury too but like you get it. her? it's so easy to love her.) THE DISMEMBERMENT SONG. ive got no angel to keep me in line, so im taking your narrative, and im making it mine/cause im all out of hurt, you've used up all ive got/so im chopping you up and still coming up squat/if i wanted to bleed, id just roll up my sleeve and saw in, saw in, saw in.

bonus songs: i am machine by three days grace, let it die by three days grace, fallen angel by three days grace, chasing the first time by three days grace, broken glass by three days grace (look it's basically an angsty breakup chapter what do you want from me/j), already dead by hollywood undead, can you feel my heart by bring me the horizon, all this and heaven too by florence + the machine, and probably too many more lol. for some reason her playlist has nearly twice as many songs as the others at the moment. ever since the pristine cut dropped that's also the chapter ive had the most frequent thoughts on in terms of analysis, so maybe that's why! or i listen to too many bands that make angsty breakup songs XD

Breaking through ur window hi hello there hi

5 favorite Vessels and (optionally) a song you connect to each of them, then tag people to answer aswell, joy and whimsy

Bye now, I'm breaking through a different window to get out bye

oohh hell ye! I can't pick a fav so they're all in no particular order

Damsel (she's... she's too real sometimes, also very silly)

Hea (damsel but depressed and I need to care for her)

Apotheosis (big woman but better :> I like her better than Tower cuz of the whole "make her feel what we've felt" and she actually understood)

Thorn (hurt betrayed baby yet still powerful, I like herrrrrr)

Den (kitty. need I say more.)

ugh.. now I have to fix 2 windows...

tell me your faves! @artenjoyingcritter @s1lv3rth0rn @fogbreo @mjlegends @norahtheghost

[artingstarvist]

Welp.

[every-sanji]

This is genuinely the best blog on tumblr. The premise is hilarious and commitment is fabulous

LMAO thank you!! I can't take the credit for the idea since I believe @everybrook is the OG for one piece every blogs (archive goes back to 2018 which is two whole years before this one, and also is completely caught up on the manga so posts are way more infrequent) and there were a few others that popped up around the same time I did in 2020, most notably @everynicorobin which is also caught up and reblogs fanart now between chapter releases (and also run by my cool mutual go give them a follow). I don't think most of the other ones from that era are still around or posting like I don't remember the last time the Franky blog updated, but it is a very funny premise and it takes a lot to keep these blogs going, so you have to have some sort of dedication to the bit to keep it going for more than a few months.

[mistyechoes]

deep and thorough sigh i suck at video games

[oh-meow-swirls]

how does the raft not capsize.

[pttucker]

After Kim Dokja disappeared, Han Sooyoung was busy appeasing the party members. "Shit, am I some type of babysitter?" Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung were sitting blankly in their seats while Lee Hyunsung's huge body was crouched down in the middle of the children as he muttered something. Han Sooyoung sighed and pressed the party members "Hey! Everyone, wake up. This time, he went with Yoo Joonghyuk. Of course, it didn't work. "Dokja hyung… Dokja hyung again…" "I should've locked him up at that time…" Lee Jihye and Lee Seolhwa tried to soothe the children while Han Sooyoung was thinking about the problems she faced now. Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk were taken away so she had to take care of the preparations for the rest of the week. "Now is the real Han Sooyoung's Corporation…"

Dokja, your party is literally going to put one of those weird little toddler backpack leashes on you so you can't just dart off to who knows where. And then they're gonna give the other end to a pissed off Joonghyuk.

Or worse...

Heewon

YOU ARE LUCKY SHE'S STILL WITH URIEL RIGHT NOW BUT YOU ARE GONNA HEAR ABOUT IT WHEN SHE GETS BACK!

Look at poor Lee Hyunsung! Look at the children! You are giving them PTSD with all of your disappearing off to your potential doom!

Poor Han Sooyoung. She doesn't get paid enough for this.

Forget the stuff in his pockets, I vote that next time Dokja pulls a Dokja, Sooyoung gets to keep his coat.

[waifuoftomonori]

5/25 - Random Daily Paragraphs

The warmth of Tomonori’s palm resting between his horns stopped him. His breath caught. The next thing he knew, tears were gushing down his cheeks in hot streaky paths, shuddering with each frantic gasp. Tomonori tutted in sympathy, patting his head so gently, gentler than Taira had ever been or ever would be, inviting Shinra to close his eyes and bury his head in his hands and bawl like he never had before. “It’s all right,” Tomonori murmured.

~***~

“You— what? You made horns?” Shinra blurted out, bolting up straight.

[aparticularbandit]

i've also got about 600 words left in the second write for monday's chapter. and this is like. endgame chapters, we have hit endgame chapters, so it's like when i originally wrote them and just wanted to go go go go i want to do that with the second write, too.

...which means i probably won't be doing anymore of the april foolin' fics. sorry!

[iamasaddie]

AN HONEST MISTAKE

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: swiping left and right on tinder, you think you match with Joel Miller, a handsome single dad in his late 30s. Feeling enamored and horny you decide to meet in person, only to be met with an almost completely different person. warnings: darkfic, dub-con eliments due to alcohol intoxication, gaslighting, very big age gap [Joel is 61], switching POVs, explicit sexual content. Some tags are not added to avoid spoilers, dm me if you need the full list. reader description: afab she/her, has hair long enough to be pulled; has boobs and ass; reader mid to late 20s-early 30s. word count: 6,2k

a/n: thank you for all of the excitement and interest you'd shown to this idea, i have been working on it for some time and i'm finally happy to show you part one. huge thanks to @arcanefox207 , Ally helped me to polish this chapter and shown me a lot of support which i truly appreciate <3 READ ON AO3

MASTERLIST | part 2

Dating wasn’t fun. It always felt like an inescapable chore for you, and you tried to avoid it at all costs. Hiding your face in your morning cup of tea when attacked by your mom’s questions, her voice distorted by poor video connection. Joking only to avoid the topic of boyfriends and girlfriends when your friend kept nagging you about it. Losing yourself in an unsatisfactory myriad of hands that belonged to faceless people when the nights got too cold for empty sheets.

You looked at your table, a small hand-made sign read “do better” in your own handwriting. And that was exactly what you were going to do. You were going to kill not two, but three birds with one stone, and that stone was going to be going on a date. A real, proper date, with excruciatingly predictable questions and awkward first touches. And you were going to have fun. 

On the fourth hour of swiping Tinder, you were a breath away from ghosting everyone you knew and hiding in the Peruvian Amazonia for the rest of your life. The few conversations that you managed to have quickly died out when the person you talked to learned what you were there for. A month ago you’d find a pretty face and invite them over to smoke and have some fun, but that wasn’t a great start for an actual relationship. No, your fuckgirl days were over, so you went back to swiping. 

And that was when you saw him.

Joel M., 39 Southern gentleman with a beautiful daughter. Work in construction, so I can build you a house. I am looking for a real connection, please, respect that.

God, he was handsome. Your mouth started salivating as you swiped through his pictures. He was broad, tall and had a tool in his hand. Not the one you immediately started wondering about, but it looked like at least he didn’t lie in his description. Feeling like a complete creep, you screenshotted his profile. If you weren’t a match, at least you’d have someone pretty to think about before going to bed tonight.

Gently, as if afraid, you swiped right. Your screen lit up, and so did your face, you gave a wide grin to your phone. “It’s a match!”

He was too good to be true. A gentleman, he didn’t lie there. Joel gave you the exact amount of attention to make you run towards your phone whenever it rang. It was definitely nothing like you expected. He was attentive, remembering what you said and when, never shied away from your questions, and on top of that he was devastatingly hot.

You heard a blip of a new message and unlocked your phone, a smile already plastered on your face like a Pavlovian reaction.

[Joel M.]: I was thinking, we seem to have a nice connection here, don’t we? [You]: I think so, too. A little unbelievable, but I am feeling hopeful. [Joel M.]: Unbelievable how?[You]: Unbelievable that no one snatched you up earlier. From where I am sitting, you look like a full package. [Joel M.]: Well, you’re sitting awfully far away, so I see how it looks like that. Why don’t we meet in person and find out if you still think the same, darlin? [You]: Joel, are you inviting me on a date? [Joel M.]: Only if you’re accepting. How about a dinner at my place? I am a pretty decent cook.

Your hand hovered above the screen. It wasn’t smart, going to a man’s place for your first date. He could be a creep, he could be a murderer… But then again, you could never brag about your self preservation instincts, sometimes you just thought with a little kitty purring between your legs. 

You tapped on his profile again, looking at the zoomed in picture of his face. His brown eyes looked sad, but kind. A half-smile tugged on his soft-looking lips. Just a few sprinkles of salt and pepper in his hair. Even if he turned out to be a creep, you’d never had such a handsome lay before, and you were planning to check all of his tools as soon as you could, you thought to yourself before typing your reply.

[You]: I’d love that. Send me the address?

You weren’t worried, not really. You never struggled with too low of self-esteem. You knew your strong suits, and you wore them like armor. The upcoming date sent a pleasant shiver down your back, anticipation made you giggle into the void of your lonely apartment. The closer the day came, the giddier you became.

So on the fateful night you had enough confidence to pick out the dress that was a bit uncomfortable but looked gorgeous on your body. You smacked some lipstick that complemented the shade of your skin, grabbed a small purse and a bottle of wine and winked at your reflection in the mirror. You looked good, you felt even better.

August kept tricking you with its weather, the days still suffocated you with heat while the nights were unpleasantly chilly. You hugged your naked shoulders and rubbed your skin in an attempt to warm up as you waited for your Uber to arrive. 

You got inside the white Honda Civic, the smell of cigarettes unpleasantly soaked into the seats so you opened up the window praying that it wouldn’t stink up your dress. The driver acknowledged you with a small grunt and a nod, you did the same, not willing to start a conversation. The estimated forty minutes dragged out and became an hour in the man’s GPS, of course you got stuck in traffic it was just your luck. And on your way to a literal dream man, no less. 

Your kitten heel kept tapping on the car floor, the annoyed-looking driver gave you a stern look in the rear view mirror that you completely ignored. You needed to warn Joel that you were going to be late, and it made you want to grind your teeth. You hated being late, be that a party, a dentist appointment or a walk in the park with a friend. It made you feel guilty, leaving your palms sticky with cold sweat. You clearly weren’t going to make a good first impression, and with the way you chewed your lip bloody, you might not even get a kiss. You looked at the picture of him you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. Out of the two of you, you were definitely winning the creep competition, while he was just a dream come true. 

You zoomed in on his face, your thumb caressed the pixels of his skin. There were smile lines around his lips, and you wondered what made him laugh so hard throughout his life that the remnants of the gesture permanently cut themself into his skin. Joel’s eyes were gleaming with youthful mischief, something you’d thought a person loses after having a child, but he clearly proved you wrong. Sun made his brown look like amber, adding to the overall handsomeness of the man. You imagined yourself next to him – yes, it was way too early, but you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering – he’d be taller, bigger than you, his strong hand on your lower back as you walk through the city. The eyes of men and women hungry to have what’s yours, but he’d only look at you. Yes, he was a bit older, but still young enough to have you on his arm without dealing with accusatory stares and venomous whispers behind your back.

A loud honking from the car behind you made you jump in your seat. The line of cars finally started moving and it brought a sense of relief to you. You had 20 more minutes, maybe you were still going to make it.

The sound of your heels kissing the pavement echoed like gunfire through the neighborhood. When your taxi left you at the needed address, you looked around. It wasn’t too late, the small houses still looked alive with yellow lights and muffled voices. You took a deep breath, straightened your back and looked in front of yourself, examining the location. 

From the outside, Joel’s house looked nice. Nothing too fancy, the white paint a bit chapped, but the porch looked recently freshened up. A sturdy looking rocking chair covered with a blanket and a pillow gave the place a cozy feeling. His lawn was perfectly trimmed, and you imagined watching him mow it from that same porch with an iced tea in your hand. He’d be sweaty and shirtless, you’d drag him inside to fuck before he finished even a third of the territory. You clenched your thighs, a small pool of wetness gathering in your thongs. You better keep that thought away or you’d jump the poor man’s bones before he had the chance to say hello.

You checked your phone, 8:27 PM. Not too late, even acceptable in some countries, you tried to cheer yourself on. You hoped he wasn’t as insane about being late as you were or here went your first date in years. Gently, you tapped on the wooden door, the sound of someone approaching from the other side made you squeeze the bottle neck harder.

When the door flew open, you stretched out the hand holding the wine and fired out an apology in the most comical way you could, your eyes tightly shut.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrendous. I promise I am usually never late, ever.” When no reply followed, you opened your eyes, a smile still tugging on your lips as you took in the man in front of you. It was both Joel and not. With your hand still outstretched, your mouth dropped with a hundred different questions, but you only managed to ask one. “Joel?”

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Is this some kind of a joke? Are you his dad or something?”

The man in front of you was not in his late thirties, hell, he wasn’t even in his late forties! The Joel that was staring at you looked pretty old, mid-fifties at least, you thought to yourself. His hair was mostly salt, no pepper in sight. It was inches longer than in the picture, soft-looking, it curled at the bottom. He was as tall and broad as you imagined, and it did give a little pang to your core that you quickly shut off. His face was ridden in wrinkles, prominent crows feet near his eyes that were still sad, still brown. You had half a thought to turn around and order yourself an Uber home, but the bewildered look on his face made you stop where you were.

“Darlin’, I know what’s going through your head right now, because I promise I didn’t expect you to be this young either! It must’ve been Sarah, my baby girl. She set up this thing, said she was tired of seeing her old man sad an’ miserable. Guess she didn’t think I was mighty attractive anymore.” He says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “She just straight up told me today that a nice woman would come over for a dinner, said she’d be here too, and if I loved her I had better prepared my nicest shirt an’ all. Christ, what was that girl thinking?” 

You caught yourself feeling bad for the man, your heart clenching. He was still definitely handsome. His stomach was slightly more prominent and his was shirt hugging him tightly in the middle. His hand that tucked a little white strand of hair behind his ear matched his face in little sun spots, skin that had been kissed by the burning star for longer than you’d been alive. But he still got it, in a silver fox kind of way. Poor man, put into such an embarrassing situation by his own daughter. Being willingly childfree had never looked more appealing to you. 

“You came all the way here just to be disappointed, I can’t tell you how-“

“I’m not disappointed,” you interrupted him quickly and stepped forward, an unknown force drove your hand to squeeze his forearm in a reassuring gesture. His eyes dropped when your manicured nails dug into his ironed flannel. “Just surprised, but that’s not a bad thing. We both unknowingly catfished each other.”

“Catfish? Ain’t that a type of fish?” 

“No,” you laughed lightheartedly, the man was adorable. The cold breeze picked up, and you were reminded that you were still on the porch, if any neighbors were out they were definitely getting a fresh batch of gossip to discuss before sleep. “It’s when you… You know what, no matter, it’s not important.”

Joel looked hesitant, his jaw ticked and you noticed him look you up and down before swallowing hard. Was he blushing? 

“I want to make it up to you before you go. I made us a nice dinner when I thought you were umm… age appropriate,” Joel tightened his lips and gave you an apologetic smile. “It ain’t catfish, just a steak, but I swear on my mama, it’s good.”

Before you could respond, your stomach growled making the decision for you. Your hand jumped to it, fisting the material of your dress as if trying to silence the embarrassing sound.

“Well, I don’t see any harm in that,” you smiled, accepting Joel’s invitation. The man looked harmless and you didn’t want to leave him sad and miserable, it seemed like he felt guilty enough. “It was quite a long drive.” Maybe it all could become a funny story you both would tell your friends. Separately. 

He stepped aside and you waltzed inside his house. It was big enough to still be cozy without making you feel trapped. The warm light made everything look safe and homey, hardwood floor creaked gently under your footsteps. The door lock clicked behind you and you turned around.

Joel was looking at you, a more confident smile now stretching his lips. The soft lighting took a few years off his face, and once again you noted that the man aged like a fine wine. That reminded you of the bottle you were still tightly gripping in your hand, and you stretched it out to Joel for the second time that night. He accepted with a muttered ‘thank you’.

“Feel at home, sweetheart, I’ll just grab something real quick.” Joel pointed towards his kitchen, the space was open, luring you in with a mouth-watering smell. 

You felt awkward walking around a stranger’s house, but followed his instructions. 

You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on the exposed skin of the back of your thighs, his tongue flicking over his lower lip in anticipation. 

He disappeared further into the hallway, and you made your way towards the dining table. 

Alone, you took the opportunity to study the place you were allowed in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very unique, or maybe you were just a shitty detective. Joel’s kitchen that spilled out into a dining room was disappointingly ordinary. Walls painted a soft yellow; polished doors of wooden cupboards and kitchen cabinets that looked old but taken care of; a four-person dining table that was now set with a few plates, simple utensils, napkins and wine glasses. You narrowed your eyes trying to see the pictures that were stuck to the fridge with small butterfly magnets. Your long ride and empty stomach must’ve taken a toll on your eyesight so you could barely make out Joel in those. There was a picture of him with another man, and… You leaned over the table as if trying to get closer, to see better.

“You know, you can just come closer to the fridge.” Joel’s chuckle made you jump in your seat.

“Sorry, I was just,” the right explanation failed you, and you surrendered. “I was just being nosy.”

“Didn’t catch you going through my drawers, so no harm. Can’t really snoop if it’s out there to see, right?” Joel set the opened bottle of the wine you’d brought on the table and waved a bottle opener in his right hand. “Haven’t had wine in some time so had to go look for this guy,” he explained. 

“Whatever you made, it smells delicious,” you smiled at him. The sucking feeling in your stomach became uncomfortable, and you cursed at yourself internally for skipping lunch.

“Well then, let’s get some of it in you, shall we?”

Joel seemed way more relaxed, maybe your agreement to spend time with him made him feel less guilty for his daughter’s actions; or maybe it was the confidence of being a host. Either way, it looked good on him. 

You didn’t stop your eye from wandering over his frame while he looked away, putting food on your plates. His dark green shirt was snug around his broad shoulders, the soft-looking material translated the feeling of warmth and comfort you lacked in your dress. He had blue jeans on, and you felt your cheeks heat up when you noticed a firm ass hidden behind the rough fabric. Your hand left the table, and you tugged at your bottom lip absent-mindlessly. What was twenty more years? He turned around and since your eyes hadn't moved, you were now shamelessly staring at his crotch. The jeans did not hide much.

You snapped your face up immediately at Joel’s quiet cough. There was a barely hidden smirk on his face, so you decided that no harm was done. So what if you gave the man a quiet compliment? You’d been doing that for the last two weeks, even though apparently his daughter was the one responding to them. You could spare some flirting for the poor guy, he looked like he enjoyed a bit of your harmless attention.

He didn’t lie, he was a decent cook. The meat melted on your tongue and the wine you brought complimented it nicely. You didn’t notice the way your glass was always full, Joel’s stories from the past kept you too entranced.

Heat was creeping up your chest, settling in your cheeks and you moved the wine glass away. You could tolerate a full bottle without being visibly affected, not your proudest trick but it was what it was. Yet, now you felt like you’d emptied at least a couple of bottles on an empty stomach, even though the bottle on the table proved otherwise. You felt dizzy, but not in a bad way, just more relaxed than you were planning to be. Joel looked more handsome every minute, his syrupy thick voice lulled you into a trance-like headspace.

“Can’t lie, you look mighty pretty, darlin’. Had I been thirty years younger it’d be hard to keep my hands to myself.” 

Wine dimmed your instincts, so you just giggled. Joel’s eyes darkened as he tripped his gaze from your face to your bust, your breasts straining against the silk fabric of your dress. You noticed him looking and cleared your throat, tits jiggling slightly. 

“Forgive an old man, sweetheart?” There was nothing sorry about his tone, but it slipped your mind completely, your guard almost all the way down. “As I said, haven't had a pretty thing like you here in ages.”

You tried to study his face, your brain foggy as you struggled to figure him out. “You compliment like a man deep in the dating pool,” you smirked, “makes it hard to believe it’s all an accident. Maybe you actually lured me in here

intentionally?” You raised your eyebrows, but couldn’t handle your own silly accusation, breaking down in giggles.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, this old dog is all bark no bite.” His smile looked sincere, kind laughter leaving his wet lips and he gave you a wink.

“You’re not that old,” your voice dragged the words out like you wanted to convince yourself more than him. You felt hot all over and you weren’t sure if it was the result of the wine you drank.

“You’re too kind, sweetheart, no need to spare my feelings. My prime is long behind the horizon.”

“No, you’re actually very handsome,” you didn’t lie, anyone with a good working set of eyes would see his attractiveness, and you had two weeks to cement it in your brain. “You have a very nice smile, and your hands,” your eyes dropped on the table where a giant fist was curled around his fork. “A lot of women appreciate a good set of hands.”

“Learned to work with them pretty well, too.” Joel nodded and smirked. “Leaking faucets, clogged drainage. Can fix it all.”

In your mind that phrase sounded naughtier than you were sure the man intended it to, and you reprimanded yourself, feeling a different kind of heat rise from your belly. With one swift movement you’ve emptied what was left in your glass of wine, forgetting about your need to somehow get home after dinner. Joel only poured some more in your glass, smiling softly.

He learned the dance moves long ago. Pretty birds like you were comfortably predictable, and even though you oozed a different kind of odor, he knew exactly what to say. He watched you sip your wine with ease, his own glass barely touched on the table.

When the last piece of salad was cleaned off your plate, you felt a pleasant fullness in your belly. Your head was heavy in a sleepy kind of way, and you looked around, trying to find something to hold your attention on. Your eyes skimmed the living room, from where you were sitting you could see an old couch, in some spots it was now more beige than brown, its big cushions looked soft and the blue quilt draped over the back of it was calling your name.

There was a guitar leaning against one of the armrests and you moved your eyes back at Joel who was silently studying you.

“You play that?” You blindly pointed your thumb towards the strategically placed instrument and Joel curtly nodded.

“I pluck the strings, sometimes something bearable comes out.” He joked, the apples of his cheeks saturated with color and you reached your hand to take his

and gently squeezed it. Joel’s skin turned out to be warm and dry, the sensation of giving him such an innocent touch tingled on your fingertips.

“I noticed you tend to undersell yourself. Would you play something for me?” You didn’t want to leave yet, and your empty plate didn’t really leave you a reason to stay. You tilted your head to the right and gave Joel a sweet smile, hoping he’d succumb to your charm. He didn’t wait long before returning the soft gesture. Slowly, he got off his seat. His figure loomed above you for a quiet moment before he outstretched his palm.

“I’d never be able to refuse you,” he admitted. Your hand drowned in his and he tugged you up. You almost crushed into his broad chest, but to your own dismay he took a step back. Your insides throbbed, the smell of his cologne mixed with his own odor awoke every single receptor on your skin.

“Do you like old stuff?” 

“I’m still here,” you quipped and shrugged your shoulders innocently. Joel stopped, making sure you saw him roll his eyes in fake annoyance. He couldn’t contain the breathy laugh, though, so you knew he got your joke. 

You moved towards the couch, while Joel walked a step behind you, enjoying the view of your ass in a skin tight dress. The outline of your thongs was visible to him, and he smiled to himself, maybe you weren’t as innocent as you pretended to be. Joel bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from any comments.

His hand hugged the neck of the guitar confidently, while you made yourself comfortable on the couch.

“I think I know just the thing.”

Your eyes never left his fingers as he started to hum an unfamiliar melody.

His voice lulled you in, deep vibrations as he plucked the strings reverberated in your chest. You felt so warm inside, the heat that was pooling in the depth of your belly rose and touched your chest, neck, the tips of your fingers. The dress clung to your skin unpleasantly and for a moment you wished you could take it off. Was it so wrong?

Your eyes traced Joel’s face, the sharp angle of his nose, the tip of it twitching as he sang gently. His lips caressed the words with a tenderness of a lover and you wondered when was the last time they did the same to a woman. Your thighs tightened as your body already knew something your mind only danced around. You shifted in your seat, moving closer to Joel, letting your knees touch.His eyes found yours, a question burning in his browns. You shrugged your shoulders and gave him a small smile, he smiled back. The melody continued, his warm timbre embracing the words.

Maybe tomorrow, honey, Some place down the line, I’ll wake up older So much older, mama, I’ll wake up older, and I’ll just stop all my trying

Your fingers drew patterns on your dress, nails picking at the seam with nervousness. The fire in the center of you gave you confidence to follow through, and your hand ended up on Joel’s knee, slowly moving up until your pinky touched the wood of his guitar. The melody didn’t falter, but his voice did.

“Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?”

“It is a date, isn’t it?” The shreds of your confidence only allowed you to squeeze his thigh with a hint, yet your eyes looked anywhere but his face.

“You shouldn’t do something like that to an old man like me, will break my heart when you leave,” he sounded so painfully sad, it made your heart ache as bad as your pussy. You looked him in the eye then, god, he was so handsome. 

“What if I don’t leave?” You challenged him like a mouse challenging a lion. Joel shook his head, his hand gripping the guitar’s neck viciously.

“Stop playing with me, darlin’.”

“What if I’m not playing?”

You expected another sad plea, another crack in his voice. But instead, he put his guitar to the side and spread his legs wider than before. “Then prove it.” He husked out. “Prove that you know what you’re doing.”

There was no mistake in what he meant. His voice added a new depth into it, eyes glowed with something dark. Passion, you thought. Need. The one that was pushing you to your knees at that same moment. The one that numbed your skin when your bones hit the hardwood floor between his spread thighs. The one that guided your hands to his zipper before you could even steal a kiss off his tantalizing lips.

He was hot underneath his clothes, his skin was burning like he had a fever and you were almost too impatient to be gentle. Joel lifted his hips just enough to help you tug his jeans down, his grey cotton boxers followed. He watched you intently, and you watched his half-hard cock lay heavily on his full balls. They were hanging low, their size intimidating. But no more intimidating than the main course.

You weren’t offended that he wasn’t fully hard yet, still, Joel took you by the chin and made you look at him. “Sorry, darlin’, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time, but at my age, it’s just not enough anymore.”

You nodded, your mouth flooding with saliva at the thought of him growing under your tongue. He was thick, veiny, more veiny than the dicks you’d seen

before so you thought it was an age thing, however the vines surrounding his shaft only made you whimper harder, thighs squelching with your arousal. 

You leaned forward, inhaling full lungs of him. It was heady, strong, and made you dizzier than all the wine you drank. You reached your hand out with the intent of touching his cock, but Joel stopped you.

“Touch yourself.” For the first time you heard something dark in his melody. Commanding.

“What?” You were confused. Did he want you to just play with yourself? Because you were on the verge of bursting if he didn’t let you get closer to his cock.

“Put your little hand in your panties and slick it up with all the sweet juices that have been leaking out of you since the moment you saw me, darlin’.” Your mouth fell open, hand following his order under Joel’s dominant gaze. “Then you can wrap it around my dick, and prove to me that you really want this.”

It was so easy to just do what he said, without questioning the moral, the consequences. Your hand was wet with your arousal, pussy begging to keep it

there, to give some attention to your clit, but your mind was set on the man before you. 

He hissed when you wrapped your slick hand around his shaft and started jerking it slowly, feeling the girth of him thrum with growing desire. You looked at his cock, entranced. His shaft was shining with your own juices, a pink head became deeper in color as more blood rushed to his cock. You swiped your thumb over it, a tiny drop of precum glistening in his slit. 

“You’re doin’ such a good job, angel.” Joel’s hoarse voice was almost a whisper. You felt the steam coming from him, it made you sweat, your breath hitching. “Why don’t you put that mouth to use, hm, darlin’? You speak awful lot with it.”

It almost made you giggle, a plan forming in your head. Instead of letting his cock in the scorching wetness of your mouth, your head dropped lower. You

stuck your tongue out, lathering his heavy balls in your saliva. They were fuzzy, like a ripe peach, and you massaged them with the wet muscle. 

“Fuck, ain’t nothing angelic about you, huh?” Joel’s voice was barely recognizable, hungry and low it vibrated in your pussy. You opened your mouth wider, sucking his balls in turn. “That’s right, making me feel so good, sucking on my balls like that. Come on, baby, use your tongue.” 

You tried to alternate between licking and sucking on his ballsack, your spit drooling over your chin while you were panting like a rabid dog. The only thing that mocked your ladylikeness was your goddamn dress, and it was almost drenched in your own slick at this point. 

“Good girl, sucking on my balls like it’s what you came here for. Came here to make an old man cum? What a perverted little girl you are, sweetheart.” Your pussy tingled with your praise. The mouth on him made your head spin, like a newfound drug that affected only you he seeped under your skin making you pant and moan as you continued pleasuring him. Your hand jerked his thick cock in tandem with your mouth on his balls. Joel’s eyes never left you, as he continued praising you. “Mmhm, that’s good, drench ‘em, fuck you’re a dirty one.” 

You felt his hand at the back of your head as it pressed you harder into him, your nose was forced into his perineum and he almost humped your face with his groin. Your tongue hung out, and he managed to slide his balls across it before it almost went too low. The tip of your tongue almost touching his puckered hole covered in more hair. 

“Not today,” you heard him grumble before tugging you up. “Come on, darlin’, don’t make me waste a load.” He pushed on your cheeks with his hand, feeding you his cock in one movement. It was a lot to take, your teeth barely scraping his shaft, and you used your tongue to protect the underside. “Take it all, come on, darlin’, you’re the one who wanted it.”

Intoxication and arousal didn’t mix well, as you just moaned pathetically around him, letting him deeper in your throat. It bulged with the sheer size of his dick, you felt it, uncomfortable, but you couldn’t move, your body too heavy and tired. Instead, your hands found his wet balls, already tight and ready to blow every drop of cum he’d been saving for you. You tried to fit them in your hand, gently tugging at his sack to stimulate him further.

“Ready, sweetheart? I better not see you waste a drop.” His hips bucked, and your nose was pressed into the soft tuft of his grey pubes. Joel pressed your head into him harder as his hot load trickled down your throat. You tried to breathe through your nose, the lack of oxygen blackening your vision.

He pulled out seconds before you were ready to pass out.

“Gotta tap my leg or somethin’, sugar. I don’t need you dying with my cock still in your throat.” You chuckled, not sure why. Joel placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip, slippery with your saliva. His whisper sounded gentle, “God, you’re a mess. Beautiful.”

You didn’t trust your throat to work, so instead, you tried to get up on your trembling legs. Your pussy still screamed for release, so wet you could feel your arousal escaping your thongs and dripping down your leg. You hiked the skirt of your dress up, not an ounce of shame inside, and straddled Joel.

“Whoa, darlin’, slow down,” his hands dropped to your hips, keeping you in place. Your brows furrowed. He didn’t look like a man who’d let a lady down. “Why don’t we change our location?”

You didn’t get an opportunity to look around, your feet scrambling as he tugged you into a dark room. His pants were up, but undone, and you lost your heels somewhere along the way, your dress still hiked up like a common whore.

Everything was spinning, so when he dropped on the bed at first you thought he fell. His voice was navigating you through the darkness, but you could barely concentrate on it.

“Come here, angel, let this old man take care of your pretty pussy.” Joel smacked his lips, and guided you to climb on top of him, legs on each side of his body until your pussy hovered over his face.

“Panties,” you whimpered and heard an immediate crack of fabric ripping.

“Sorry, darlin’, can’t make you wait any longer,” his face pressed into the side of your thigh, sticky with your own juices, and you whimpered pathetically at the texture of his scruff scratching your sensitive skin. “Smell so good, fresh, like a new doll.”

You couldn’t understand what he meant, you didn’t even try to. When his lips latched onto your clit, your head tilted back and you let out a loud moan. Joel only moaned back, the sound penetrating your pussy alongside his tongue.

His hands gripped your asscheeks painfully, forcing you to grind on his face. His tongue slipped in your wet hole, and you felt yourself shaking on top of him, your legs giving out as he kept fucking you with his tongue. 

Joel growled in your skin, making you crawl to your orgasm faster and faster with every swipe of his tongue. 

The tip of his nose kept hitting your sensitive clit, as he pushed his tongue further and further in your fluttering hole. He kissed his way up, pinching your clit between his tightly clasped lips and sucked, punching a cry out of you with his raw vigor.

“Come on, sugar,” he commanded, “I feel her cryin’, give her what she wants.”

With doubled passion he flickered his tongue over your throbbing bud, and you felt sweat trickling down your neck and soaking into your dress as an orgasm rushed over you.

Your body felt powerless, and if not for Joel’s strong hands still holding you up, you’d have fallen back. But he kept you somewhat steady, lapping up all that your wasted body could give him until every swipe of his tongue started being painful and you had physically push his face away with trembling hands.

“Got too enthusiastic, my bad. Ain’t every day I get to drink from a fountain of youth.” Joel joked, helping you settle next to him in his bed.

Your tired body was half laying on top of him, fully drained yet still unexplainably insatiable. Forced by something deep in the pit of your belly, you dragged your nails over his soft stomach until you touched his soft cock again. Joel quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand to his chest. You felt the sparse hairs on his nipple tickle your palm. His heartbeat was hard, but steady.

“Sorry, angel, ain’t that young anymore.” He said, kissing the crown of your head. His fingers found their way into your hair and he tugged at it gently. “If you want me to fuck that pretty hole of yours, you’ll just have to agree to a second date.”

Your words were slurred, eyelids too heavy to keep them open. “Maybe I will, old man.” 

He chuckled, the grip of his fingers in your hair tightened as he looked in the distance. A couple of flickering street lamps visible from his window were providing minimum light in his room and a possessive smile creeped onto his lips as he listened to you snoring lightly into his chest.

You weren't the first mouse to get trapped so easily, but something told him you were special. He wasn't ready to discard you just yet.

LEAVE A COMMENT, YOUR FEEDBACK IS MY MOTIVATION <3

[veevettel]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET

PROLOGUE: There's someone else 🏎️ CHAPTER SUMMARY: Diana finds out she's pregnant, and the best thing she thinks she can do? Breaking up with Seb and hiding the pregnancy so that his career isn't affected, especially when he's on his way to win his fourth world championship ⤷ 📚 SERIES SUMMARY: Diana Wagner's plans didn't include her finding out she was pregnant with her long time boyfriend, three-time Formula 1 world champion, Sebastian Vettel. Neither was breaking up with him in 2013... or having to face him again 5 years later when she became viral after posting a song dedicated to him. And, of course, having his daughter he knows nothing about. ‼️ WARNINGS: Pregnancy, mentions of cheating, curse words, angst, fighting

SERIES MASTERLIST ✰ WATTPAD

2013 May 10th Barcelona, Spain

Diana pulled the flush and got up, trying to steady herself to avoid getting dizzy. Then, she grabbed some paper and wiped the corners of her mouth, making sure there were no traces of vomit. 

Automatically, she headed to the sink and reached for the toothbrush she'd grown accustomed to carrying since nausea became a daily occurrence. She tried to get rid of the acidity in her throat and the bad taste in her mouth, but, as usual, it was impossible.

"Diana, are you still there? Are you okay?" 

Britta's voice, along with a few knocks on the door, jolted the blonde out of her trance. She startled and forced herself to answer, even though it was the last thing she felt like doing.

"Yes, I'm coming. Just a sec!"

"Don't take too long," Roeske replied. "Not that I don't want you to take your time, but Seb is worried about you."

Panic-stricken, Diana almost laughed. If only he knew what his girlfriend was about to do...

"Don't worry, I'll be right out," she answered.

The blonde stared at herself in the mirror, contemplating her reflection longer than she would have liked. Minutes ticked by, and she nearly lost track of time, battling the intrusive thought that what she was about to do was wrong but, inevitably, the right option.

Di, as Seb used to call her ever since they were kids, was going to walk away from everything she'd ever wanted just because things hadn't turned out "right", or at least that's what she thought.

Sebastian Vettel was at the peak of his professional career, breaking records and making history, while Diana Wagner still remained stuck in their hometown, working at a bar, dealing with drunks and immature kids pretending to be adults on a daily basis. She didn't have the luck, or maybe the financial means, to study what she had dreamed of since childhood: making music.

She leaned on the sink, feeling the cold start to seep into her body. A great tremor shook her, making it increasingly difficult to stay on her feet. Tears filled her eyes as she faced the reality of what she was about to do, about the decision she'd made.

Since Seb began achieving his dreams and making a name for himself, the truth is that Diana felt unworthy of him because she was heading in the opposite direction. Now that she'd gotten pregnant by him, possibly because the birth control pills failed, she felt it even more.

Despite the love she still felt and probably always will for Seb, since taking the pregnancy test with Hanna at one of the most secluded malls in Heppenheim, Diana knew that letting him know he was going to be a father was never part of her plans.

"Come on, Diana..." she told herself, still staring at her reflection. "This is for Seb. You're doing this for him and his career."

She took a few more deep breaths, feeling the knot in her throat tighten. She looked at the girl full of insecurities she was one last time. Her eyes reflected doubt and, above all, fear. She sadly sensed it would continue to be this way from now on.

Trying to steady herself, Diana slowly opened the bathroom door, as if torturing herself. Britta was sitting in one of the chairs, reviewing something in a notebook until the younger girl closed the door a bit harder than she'd meant to.

"Are you really okay?" she asked again, giving her an uncertain look. "I've been hearing you vomit for several weeks now. Don't you think you should go see a doctor?"

The knot in her throat seemed to tighten further. See a doctor... Of course she'd already been to the doctor! Four weeks and, as of today, four days pregnant was the answer, but no one beyond her parents and her best friend could know.

"Yes, I'm fine," Diana replied quickly, trying to sound convincing. "Don't worry. It's probably just a bit of stress," added, praying Roeske believed me. "I haven't had time to see a doctor, but I assure you, with all my heart, that everything is fine."

And that's why I'm leaving the love of my life today.

Britta seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her lips remained slightly open, as if she wanted to say something. Her look, however, made Di feel like she didn't quite believe what she was saying.

"Whatever you say, Diana," she finally said, standing up from her seat. "But seriously, if you need to talk or anything, I'm here for you."

"I know."

"Well, seeing that you're as calm as I expected, we'd better hurry up," she told her. "The last free practice session is about to start, and Seb is probably worried and wondering why we haven't come back yet."

Red Bull's golden girl prepared to leave the room with Vettel's PR. She was more than sure she needed to go with her, but as they were almost out of the room, Diana realized it was now or never.

She then stopped before going from the driver's room to the garage, watching Britta hurry down the stairs, probably aware that they were running late even though there were still about forty-five minutes before the session started.

"Wait, Britta. Just a sec!"

Wagner was convinced her shout from the top of the stairs was heard by more people than she'd have liked. She wished she could turn invisible as she saw some eyes on me, including Britta's, which made it hard to speak, not to mention the variety of emotions churning inside her.

The 25 years old needed to calm down and act better, or everything she'd been mulling over would end up falling apart.

"I'd like to talk to Seb... alone," she finally revealed.

"Diana Wagner," she said her name much more seriously now. "You've told me that everything is fine, but... are you sure it really is? Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

No, everything is wrong, and yes, there are more things happening than I'd like.

Di knew she could trust Britta completely. She was sure that if she told her the news before she did to Seb, she wouldn't say anything, at least not right away. The young woman wanted to tell her; in fact, she'd love to because she was like a second mother to her. However, she knew she couldn't because, once she left, there was a high chance she might end up telling him everything in a moment of weakness.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. It's nothing serious, don't worry," Wagner replied with a sigh, trying to reassure both Roeske and herself. "I just need to talk to him about... well, a minor issue."

"Of course. Go get him, I'll wait here. He's probably talking to Rocky or Horner about who knows what. He hasn't gone far, especially considering how much he wanted to see you."

"Can you get him for me?" She then asked casually.

Diana ignored her last comment because her nerves were eating me alive. Britta seemed to notice her anxiety, so she was grateful she ignored it and acted as if nothing was wrong.

She sighed in relief when she nodded, and she couldn't stop thanking her out loud for what she'd just done for her.

She insisted that she lie down on the physio's couch and try to rest a bit. 

"You look a bit pale," she said. Reluctantly, and after repeating it a couple more times, she finally listened. "Seb will be here soon. You know he'll drop everything when it comes to you."

And it was true. Once Britta left, Diana remained lying down, drawing small shapes on her stomach with her index finger. As she whispered things to what would supposedly be her child, a whirlwind of thoughts flooded her mind.

A small pressure settled in her chest as she became aware that the idea of breaking up with Sebastian was becoming a reality. She didn't want to face it and actually refused to, but she knew that for both of them, especially Seb, it was actually the best.

Hiding the truth from the guy she'd loved longer than she'd like to admit was exactly the opposite of what she should do. But because Seb was the most important person in her life, and she knew him almost as well as herself, she knew he would need to focus solely on winning his fourth Formula 1 World Championship this year, not on learning how to change diapers or feed a baby.

Her thoughts vanished when the door opened abruptly, startling her. Seb appeared with his suit hanging at his waist, his hair completely tousled, and a face filled with worry that matched exactly with the situation Diana hadn't told him about yet.

"Sunshine! Britta told me you're not well. What happened? Do you want to go to the doctor? I don't care about missing the free practice, you're the most important thing."

Sebastian quickly took her cheeks in his hands. Diana hadn't even had a chance to sit up, and Seb was already trying to warm her face with his palms, moving it from side to side and examining her like he was a doctor with the solution to all her problems.

"I'm fine, love, relax," she said, breaking free from Seb's grip.

"I know you better than I'd like to, Di. You're pale, and you rarely get pale," he pointed out. "The last time I saw you like this was when the police chased us after they caught you doing an illegal concert in the middle of the school square."

Her perception of his concern made her anxiety spike. She knew she couldn't keep up the lie she'd prepared with Hanna for much longer.

"Seb, really, I'm fine," she insisted, swallowing hard as she tried to find the right words.

He didn't seem convinced, and it was clear he wasn't going to let it go easily.

For a moment, she was tempted to tell him the truth, especially when she saw his eyes fixed on her, refusing to look away until he found out what she was really trying to say. As if he wanted to know that he was going to be a father next January, if her gynecologist's calculations and the latest technology were correct.

Diana tried her best to have the courage to look him in the eyes. His concern overwhelmed her completely. When he reached out to hug her and she fell into his arms, she knew she couldn't keep dodging the truth.

"Seb..." she started, slowly pulling away from him. "The truth is that... Well, actually there's something wrong."

His jaw clenched, and he became very serious.

"Tell me, Di. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"I know, love. I want to tell you everything, but..." she began calmly, her voice breaking. "This is different, and it's going to be a bit difficult..."

"What do you mean by different and difficult? Di, what's going on?"

Diana's hands fidgeted nervously as she tried to find the best way to hurt him the least. She noticed the nervous and worried tone in his voice had dissipated, replaced now by anger that seemed to be consuming him.

"I want to tell you, but I don't know how to do it without hurting you," she admitted in a whisper.

And there it was, she had let the truth slip.

She didn't know what else to say, so she decided to wait for Sebastian's response. Anguish had taken hold of him, and she knew he was waiting for her words as much as she was waiting for his.

His behavior wasn't helping; it was actually the opposite. The guilt was consuming her, just as she had foreseen. But there was no turning back, not now.

It was impossible to even think coherently enough to say something that made sense.

Wagner watched as his gaze turned into pure pain, a pleading search for answers that she didn't dare to give him.

"Seb..." she spoke again, struggling to maintain her composure and reaching for his hand at the same time. "I need you to listen to me, please."

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Diana," he said, using her full name. That was the indicator that things weren't going well and wouldn't be again. "Whatever it is, I'll be able to deal with it."

"I don't want us to be together anymore," she declared. "I'm not in love with you anymore. I haven't been for about a month or so."

The silence that filled the room after her false confession was unbearably uncomfortable. His eyes filled with tears; hers did too, but for a different reason than his.

He thought she had stopped loving him when, in fact, she loved him more than ever.

"Why are you telling me this? Why, Diana?" he asked. "I thought we were great... I really believed we were better than ever."

"I don't know, Seb," she murmured between sobs, trying to hide her face so he wouldn't see how truly affected she was. "There are... there are couples that stop loving each other, and that's what I think has happened with me. With us."

"What can I do to make you fall in love with me again? I can't lose you. I can't lose the sunshine of my life, not when we promised each other a life together."

"You can't do anything, Seb, and I'm really sorry," Wagner said, her voice laden with false sadness, trying not to succumb to his desperate plea.

"Sometimes things stop being what they were in the beginning, and, well... what we have is no longer what it used to be."

"Of course it's not what it used to be! Everything was getting better until you decided to drop this on me, Diana!" Sebastian yelled at her. "I was even going to ask you if you wanted us to get..."

"And that's why I feel it's better if we move on, but each on our own path!" she interrupted with another shout.

It's not real, Diana. Everything you're saying is a lie.

The blonde inhaled and exhaled more times than she would have liked, but it felt necessary. This charade to try to make Seb's life a little better was not only costing her the relationship but also her mental health in the long run.

"Is there someone else, Diana?"

Sebastian's voice was laced with anger. Rage consumed him at the possibility of an answer he didn't want to hear. His clenched fists, turning his knuckles white, were proof of it.

"No, not exactly."

And once again, the camouflaged truth.

"What are you saying?" he spat, getting closer and closer, consumed by anguish.

"I mean not exactly, but... yes. There is someone else, Seb," Diana admitted.

The room was flooded with shouts full of reproaches, insults, and slurs.

The woman tried to turn a deaf ear. She told herself this was all part of a performance and tried to convince herself that everything would be fine in the future, even though she knew it wouldn't be.

"How could you do this to me, Diana?! How could you cheat on me after almost seven years together?!" Sebastian shouted, taking out his anger on a vase on his desk, throwing it to the ground and spilling the water and flowers he had given her just a day ago. "We've been through so many things together. We've grown up together and fulfilled our dreams together, and now you're leaving me for some guy you must have slept with on a whim?!"

"Do you think this is easy for me, Sebastian?" she replied, her words true for once. "Stop lying, okay? The only person who has fulfilled their dreams here is you," she said, showing her disagreement with that topic, knowing it hurt her and that he had mentioned it to hurt her. "While you've been living your life as a top driver and being the center of attention, I've kept working in the same disgusting bar full of creepy old men I've been working at since I finished high school," she shouted, furious. She knew this kind of stress wasn't good for the baby, but right now, she didn't care. "I've been saving as much as I could to build a good future even though my salary was completely terrible, composing songs and singing them with the hope that they'll reach someone someday and not be forgotten."

"I've told you a million times that you don't need to work in that bar full of drunk old men who look at you like meat to have a good life," he protested, now much calmer. "With what they pay me, we can live comfortably. It's more than enough for both of us."

"I know," she responded calmly, though she was on the verge of an anxiety attack. "But I also know that I can achieve things on my own without anyone's help."

Sebastian let out an ironic laugh. He crossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked at her.

"You've always been too stubborn, Diana. Now I see what your future expectations are. After all, I understand: if you never got into the Berlin Art Academy on your own, and you're still working at the same place after so long..."

She stood still, not knowing what to say or do because she knew exactly what he meant with every word he said. It felt like her feet were cemented to the ground; his words kept hitting her, wanting to hurt her more and more.

"How dare you say that to me?"

If she was already shaken and almost broken after this whole conversation, now she felt completely sunk. Seeing her reaction, tears streaming down her cheeks nonstop, he seemed to regret it.

Quickly, he approached her, opening his arms, intending for her to bury herself in them. But as stubborn as he said she was, she refused not only the hug but any physical or emotional contact he wanted to have with her.

"Di, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to say that," he said, but the damage was already done. "I was wrong. Please... forgive me."

No matter how much he talked, trying to apologize and make amends, there was nothing else to do.

Without saying anything else, Di began to gather all her belongings from the driver's room of who could now be considered her ex-boyfriend. She didn't want to do it; she didn't want to start the zero-contact phase with the boy she had loved since she was ten years old, the one who had loved her like no one ever had before, and like no one ever would.

She was saying goodbye to the father of her child to venture into raising them alone so he could pursue his dream in peace and achieve all the successes he so longed for.

"What are you doing, Di?"

"Packing. I'm leaving."

Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her hands fumbling with the few belongings left to pack in the small backpack she usually took to the paddock. Now, she'd have to return to her hotel room, quickly pack everything into the suitcase, rush to the airport, and pray she didn't miss the flight.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Sebastian frowned, incredulous. "It's Friday, Di, we have the whole weekend ahead of us."

"Well, from now on, you'll have all the weekends to yourself," Diana shook her head, unable to bear his comments trying to make her stay. "From now on, you won't have me here on weekends, nor in your life. I'm leaving your life, and I'm not coming back," she repeated, emphasizing the finality of her words.

Sebastian was speechless. He kept shaking his head, approaching her, trying to take her belongings, but she stopped him. No matter how much she wanted to, she wasn't going to stay.

"What do you mean exactly by leaving my life and not coming back?"

"It means I'm going back to Heppenheim, Sebastian," she turned to him, trying to maintain composure. "I'm going back, and you'll also end up going back even though we live... you live in Switzerland," she immediately corrected herself, "but I hope we never see each other again."

The firmness behind her words scared her. Everything was a lie that, as the conversation progressed, had grown until she doubted what was real and what wasn't.

"I really hope you achieve everything you are working hard for," she continued, insisting to herself not to break down right there. "I hope you win the championship this year and get the four consecutive ones you've wanted. You, more than anyone, deserve all of it, and I know you're capable of that and much more."

Diana said nothing else because she had stopped being strong. She left, without looking back, the room where she had spent much more time than imaginable, and one of the many places that made up the story starring Sebastian Vettel and her.

She carefully descended the stairs. She walked with a false sense of security through the Red Bull garage, dodging any questions about why she was crying, where she was going, and if she had argued with the team's golden boy, including the endless questions from Britta Roeske that she tried to ignore at all costs.

Curious eyes followed her wherever she went, but she didn't care in the slightest. It was all done.

Now, it was just her and the little pea, or whatever size the baby was.

"Diana, wait!"

Sebastian's desperate shouts echoed behind her, getting closer.

She stopped dead, clutching the single strap of the backpack hanging over her shoulder. Slowly, she turned toward the direction the voice came from and saw Sebastian running to her, nearly choking, as he wiped tears from his cheeks and even those still streaming down his face.

"I love you, Di."

His voice was choked, and his hands moved instinctively. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from taking her face in his hands and pulling her into a kiss that unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, where they tasted each other's tears, just as they had done countless times before. In that kiss, they silently exchanged countless "I love yous" that only they could understand fully.

"Please, don't go, sunshine," he pleaded. "Whatever it is, we can work on it, but please... don't let us end."

"I love you too, Seb, but there's someone else."

She finally confessed, not in the ideal way, but in the way that suited the painful goal of her elaborate web of lies.

"There's a new person in my life, and no matter how much I love you, I love them more than I love you, and I always will," she continued, knowing that every word about the baby was true. "I love you, Sebastian Vettel, and I'll never stop loving you, but that person is my main priority now."

"Have you been unfaithful?"

Sometimes silence speaks louder than words. In this case, it was the exact opposite.

Diana Wagner stood in front of him for a few seconds, debating internally whether to answer or simply leave as calmly as possible, avoiding drawing any more attention than she already had. She chose the latter; she couldn't bring herself to speak, her vision blurred by tears, her judgment clouded beyond clear thought.

At last, she gave him one final look, whispering that she loved him and always would, even though it was over between them.

All it took was for her to lower her head, turn around, and continue walking, fighting not to look back, to realize she had made the biggest mistake of her life, one she knew she would never, for anything in the world, be able to forgive herself for.

And she knew, with painful clarity, that Seb wouldn't forgive her either.

[tender-rosiey]

from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

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[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWO

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of possible pregnancy, of abortion, of pregnancy risks & death. self-loathing. chapter one ┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

You lied.

You didn’t take the tests the next day.

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

Once you knew, you knew. 

There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.

No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didn’t just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found. 

Fuck, why did he have to look so happy that night? He got to be carefree, living his perfect little life with her, and you were there, sitting on the bathroom floor, too scared to even pee on a stick.

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

He didn't deserve anything from you anymore.

You started googling abortion clinics before you even touched the tests. You could afford it. That wasn’t even the issue.

You had more money than you knew what to do with. Your inheritance was just sitting there. You could book a flight tomorrow, pay for whatever procedure, whatever it took—fly out of state, out of the country, if you had to. 

But that wasn’t the point. It has never been about the money. It was the overwhelming shame. The fear. The realization that Rafe might have left you, but he was still there, stuck in your head, in your body, in your fucking life. Even when he wasn’t.  

He didn’t have to worry about any of this. He was most likely out on the boat, not even thinking about you. Not thinking about what he did to you. 

And you— you were left with this. Sitting on a bathroom floor for hours a day, trying to figure out how you were supposed to make a decision that changed everything.

You started looking up clinics again, scrolling through the options, but your mind was barely even there. It was legal in North Carolina for now, but you read something about the 12-week ban they passed in June, and suddenly you were spiraling one more time, wondering how much time you even had. 

Could you wait? Could you put it off like you’d been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldn’t that be easier?

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

It was depressing how life didn’t let you hold tightly to your memories sometimes. She always reminded you of the kind of person you were supposed to be. The type of girl who had her shit together. The type of girl who didn’t get herself into situations like this, in the first place.

But instead, you were the girl who lost everything—the life you were supposed to have—and somehow, you’d still found a way to screw up what was left.

You kept scrolling like you couldn’t stop.

One page led to another, and soon you weren’t just looking up clinics—you were looking up everything. 

What happened during the procedure, how long it took, the side effects, the complications. You read horror stories about infections, about women who thought it was over and then bled for weeks, about people who changed their minds too late.

You even looked up what could happen if you didn’t get an abortion—what pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didn’t need to go down. Your body changing, your hormones going insane. You thought about your boobs getting sore, your stomach stretching, the possibility of throwing up every morning, and it felt like your body was already betraying you. And then you read the serious stuff—gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didn’t even know existed before that night. There was a minefield of things that could go wrong, things that would go wrong.

Complications. Risks. Dangers.

You read about women who almost died in labor. About miscarriages and stillbirths and the trauma of carrying a baby for months, only to lose it. You never even thought about that, how pregnancy wasn’t just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But you’d been the little sister, you never saw your mother go through it, or anyone for that matter.

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five. 

You were terrified—not just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? You’d always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amount of parties. Too many drinks some nights.

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

For a second there, you thought you might pass out.

You’d thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didn’t help. The anxiety was still there, vibrating under your skin, making you want to scream. You glanced at the bathroom drawer again, where the pregnancy tests were hidden like some cursed thing.

Maybe you should’ve just taken one.

Rip off the bandaid.

The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where you’d thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, especially not whoever was about to ask something from you.

But it kept ringing, and of course, it was a number you recognized—Lily, one of the coordinators from your dad’s foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you haven’t even thought about preparing for.

You swiped to answer, “Yeah?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,” She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. “I really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, and—”

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

You blinked back into the conversation, realizing she still talking, and you hadn’t said a word. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy. Can you just handle it?” you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.

“I’ve already taken care of most things,” she said carefully, “but we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. You’re the face of the foundation, after all.”

The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. You’d always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadn’t written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.

You rubbed your forehead, “I’ll look at it later. Just send it over.”

Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. “Okay, I’ll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You hung up before she could add anything else, staring at the ceiling. One more thing. One more responsibility piled on top of everything else. You were drowning in all these expectations—being the good daughter to dead parents, the responsible one, the perfect kook girl who was supposed to have everything. You were supposed to be the girl who had the trust fund, the perfect life, the foundation that helped kids in need.

You earned to be her.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. You rolled your eyes, already knowing it was from Lily. She’d sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking you’d skim it, give it a half-assed glance, and send it back. But as you scrolled down the names, you stopped.

Rafe Cameron.

Of course, he was going to be there. Why wouldn’t he? His family had been involved in your dad’s foundation for years. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

Fuck him. 

If he thought he could just show up and rub his new life in your face, he had another thing coming. Without thinking twice, you deleted his name, erasing him like he didn’t even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.

You didn’t give a shit if it was petty. You didn’t care if it wasn’t professional.

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

Not over this. Not over you.

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room. 

You still sat there staring at the screen with that stupid blinking cursor. The email from Lily sat open in front of you, and somewhere buried in the list of attachments was the speech. Blank.

Your speech—the one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadn’t even started writing.

This was always the hardest part. Writing it. Saying it. You used to cry every time. Standing in front of all those people, talking about your dad, your family, how the foundation was this beautiful way of keeping their memory alive. It was never just a speech—it was like ripping your heart out of your chest and letting everyone see it, year after year. It never got easier.

But Rafe, used to be there with you.

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

You could still hear his voice in your head sometimes, 'you’re stronger than you think'.

That’s what he always said, even when you didn’t believe it. He’d hold you, kiss your forehead, and make you feel like it was true, like you really could get through it. He was always so sure of you. But this year? He wasn’t going to be there. He’d stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.

You’d been avoiding this moment—writing.

This time around, it wasn’t just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldn’t have him waiting for you.

You’d step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldn’t move. What were you even supposed to say this year? How were you supposed to stand up in front of all those people and talk about love and family and legacy when yours was shattered?

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you’d lost every single piece of who you used to be.

Fuck the speech. Fuck the gala. Fuck Rafe Cameron and his stupid lies, his stupid smile, his stupid promises that he never kept.  

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.

You were going to do this without him.

You were going to stand up there and give that speech, no matter how much it hurt. And if it killed you, so be it. You’d still do it.

Because unlike him, you didn’t just walk away from the things that mattered. Even if it tore you apart. Even if it was killing you to keep pretending like you were fine. You weren’t fine. But you’d fake it. You’d fake it until the whole world believed it. 

You’d barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasn’t Lily.

It was Topper. You hadn’t talked to him since that night—the night. The party where you’d found out, where you’d seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.

How he’d called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.

“What?”

“Hey…” Topper’s voice was cautious, “I, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.”

You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?”

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“Like what?” you snapped. “Leaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.”

“You almost ran me over,” Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadn’t mentioned that part. “Kinda felt like maybe you weren’t thinking straight.”

“You jumped in front of the car you fucking idiot. What the hell did you expect me to do? Slam on the brakes and listen to whatever bullshit you and Rafe had to say? Because trust me, ’m all out of patience for either of you.”

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

He never really got it.

“Look,” Your cousin started, calmer this time, “I didn’t mean to call him. I just thought—”

“You always think calling him will fix things,” you cut in, “Like he’s the answer to every problem I have. He’s not. Not anymore.”

“I get that,” He added quickly, like he was afraid you’d hang up. “But I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. “I get it,” he said finally, “You’re pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didn’t call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.”

You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasn’t malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment. 

“Next time, don’t,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."

“I wasn’t trying to clean anything up,” Topper explained, a little defensive now. “I just didn’t want you driving like that. You were upset.”

You rolled your eyes. “Upset doesn’t mean I need you or Rafe deciding what’s best for me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’re not,” he agreed, “But you weren’t exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasn’t gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.”

It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

“You could’ve told me,” you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. “About them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.”

Topper sighed again, “I should’ve,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, but the second your fingers touched your shirt, the earlier panic welled up inside you again. If he only knew how bad things were. How bad they could get. You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned, heart hammering against your ribs most painfully. There was no way you could even begin to explain what was going on inside your head—or your body.

Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, he’d freak and you didn’t need that right now.

You clenched your jaw, pushing yourself to focus on the conversation, on Topper still yammering on about apologies and guilt You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Unfortunately,” You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. “Look, Top, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”

He sighed. “I know you’re pissed, okay? I get it. But the gala’s in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?”

“Of course I’m going,” you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I have to. It’s not like I can just dip out and pretend it’s not happening.”

Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.

“Good, because I’ll be there too. And I—”

“Oh, joy,” you interrupted, “Another chance for you to babysit me and make sure I don’t make a scene? Can’t wait.”

“Jesus, I’m just trying to help!” Topper groaned. “I didn’t want to make things worse the other night. I—”

“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll see you at the gala.”

You hung up. You didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now. 

The day of the gala came faster than you thought it would.

It was like you blinked, and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the venue, walking through final checks with Lily, nodding along as she rattled off details you barely absorbed.

The room was all glitz and glamour, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, and everything draped in the foundation’s signature gold and white. 

Crisp tablecloths. Flowers in perfect, elegant arrangements. Waiters in black-tie uniforms were circulating, making sure everything looked flawless. Flawless.

That word made you want to gag.

You moved through the space like a ghost, smiling at the right moments, giving half-hearted approvals when needed.  You didn’t care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. You’d stayed at the venue longer than planned, making sure everything was in order, but your mind was stuck in that floating-place. You wanted to burn the whole thing down, if you were being honest.

You should’ve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.

Making smart choices wasn’t your thing lately, was it?

When you finally slipped into the room where they’d set up your glam team, you just wanted to sleep. The room itself was a suite off to the side of the venue, a private space meant to make you feel like royalty.

A massive mirror ran across one wall, surrounded by soft, glowing lights. A table was set up with everything—hair tools, makeup brushes, palettes, serums. Bottles of champagne sat chilled in the corner, the condensation dripping down the glass, untouched. It was the kind of place you were supposed to feel special in.

Normally you did. But this year you were numb.

The stylist worked quietly on your hair, soft curls falling into place as she tugged and pinned each section with meticulous care. The makeup artist was dabbing foundation onto your skin, blending and contouring until you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress hung behind you, a shimmering white gown, custom-designed by Versace for the occasion.

You looked like you were stepping into one of those perfect, glamorous lives. But on the inside, you felt like you were going to lose it at any second. You nodded along, giving tight-lipped smiles when they complimented you, and then they finally left.

The room was dead silent now, just you and your reflection. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, the perfect curls, the glowy skin, the gown waiting behind you. It all felt wrong. It felt fake. You didn’t bear a resemblance to yourself.

You looked like the version of you that the world expected—the untouchable girl. A doll.

Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard. 

You hadn’t even realized it was in there.

One of the pregnancy tests. You must’ve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

What the fuck were you doing?

You had a gala to host in less than an hour. People were going to be looking at you, waiting for you to give the speech, expecting you to hold everything together like always. And there you were, standing in a private dressing room, about to do something so monumentally stupid. Maybe it was the pressure of tonight, or maybe it was the anger you’d been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didn’t care.

You were going to do it.

Without even thinking, you stormed into the bathroom. You were so fucking tired of avoiding this. Tired of pretending like everything was fine, like you were fine.

What the hell was fine about any of this? You tore open the box, hands trembling as you pulled out the test. The room was so quiet, you could hear every little sound—your breath still uneven, the rustle of your dress against the tiles, the click of the test cap as you flicked it off.

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala? 

You couldn’t get a proper breath out as you waited, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might rip your chest open. You leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. Your stomach churned, the nausea rising again, and you had to close your eyes to stop the floor from spinning.

What if it was positive? What if it wasn’t?

You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didn’t. Not yet. The little window stayed blank, as if taunting you, making you feel like you were losing your mind. You knew you had to wait longer. You weren’t stupid. You’d read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.

Hated not knowing.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the stupid little piece of plastic. Just one line or two. That was all it came down to. One fucking line or two, and your entire life would either fall apart or what? Be fine?

You glanced at the mirror, catching another glimpse of yourself, and it almost startled you—your eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with. 

You tried to picture telling him again, but the idea alone made you sick. You thought of Sofia, of her perfect smile next to his, and bile rose in your throat. Your hands never stopped shaking. You wanted to run. You wanted to throw that thing in the garbage can and never stare at it again.

Your thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere, just making everything worse. The clock on your phone ticked louder and louder, and you knew—somewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and they’d all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself you’d spent your whole life pretending to be.

And you were in here, trying not to lose your fucking mind.

You peeked back at it. Still nothing.

No line. No answer.

It felt like you were suspended in time. You closed your eyes, gripping the sink harder, praying for it to end—something to happen, anything.

Then finally, you felt it in your chest—a heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.

You opened your eyes. 

There it was.

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