RIYAH

any pronouns!

[camdunez]

It’s Never Over | s. laforteza

Song Playing: Lover, You Should’ve Come Over — Jeff Buckley | decode — paramore

paring: sophia leforteza x gn!reader summary: you had left sophia in LA to start a band with your close friends. she stayed leaving you voicemails, hoping you’d pick up. this voicemail was no different.. but she drops not so small surprise at the end. genre: angst, hurt/comfort, estranged relationship word count: warnings/tags: use of “yn”, college student!sophia, rockstar!yn, brief ningning x yn if you squint, yn’s so hayley williams coded, sophia misses you so much. a/n: might as well add onto the mom!sophia agenda. and can you tell i'm in love with paramore? expect more paramore au content soon!

hey, yn.. i don't know why i'm still leaving voicemails.. it's not like you're listening to them anyway.

but i hope you're doing okay.. i haven't heard from you since your little band dropped riot. i guess living that rockstar life's got you busy, huh?

i heard that track you guys did for that vampire movie in the grocery store yesterday. dani said you're growing more angsty with every song you put out.. but i'm proud of you regardless.

[sigh]

i feel like i'm stalling so let me just cut to the chase..

i had something to tell you the night you left for new york to start that band of yours...

remember when i told you i was sick that one time?.. that stomach bug i caught from eating manon's food?..

it really wasn't a stomach bug, yn..

[pause]

i was pregnant... just a few weeks then..

i had the baby when you were on tour for that first album.. and ironically, one of your songs came on the radio at the hospital.

[chuckle]

...

her name's salem..

she's about four years old now.. has your eyes.. your laugh.

she knows who you are.. she always tells people that you're her star.

[a longer pause]

i heard you're in LA for a show.. maybe i can drag the girls with me.. show my face and what not.

...

i miss you, yn. call me back when you get the chance..

the hallway was loud, but yn couldn’t hear anything.

not really.

they sat hunched in the greenroom, phone still pressed to their thigh, sophia’s voice still clinging to the insides of their skull like cigarette smoke. their in-ear monitors buzzed faintly from the tech table beside them. they were due on stage in seven minutes.

but time felt stuck.

like a pick jammed between strings.

“yo, we’re on in—” yizhuo’s voice cut in from the doorway, but the second she saw yn’s face, she stopped short. “hey.. you good?”

yn blinked. their eyes stung.

they should’ve known. or at least checked. all those voicemails — ignored, deleted, skipped. that whole year sophia kept calling, leaving breadcrumbs in the dark while yn lit match after match to burn their way forward.

they rubbed a hand down their face. “yeah,” they said. “i’m good.”

yizhuo didn’t move. “is it her?”

yn nodded once.

then, barely above a whisper: “i have a daughter.”

the silence stretched. even the hallway seemed to hush.

“oh,” yizhuo breathed. she stepped in slowly, crouching down in front of them. “you wanna bail? i’ll cover. i’ll fake a stomach bug... hell, i’ll pull the fire alarm.”

yn let out a weak laugh — the first crack of something real in their chest. “no. i need to do the show.”

“sure?”

“I have to.”

because what else was there to do but play?

to pour every feeling — the grief, the longing, the regret, the hope — into the mic and hope Salem would hear it one day and understand.

yizhuo pressed her forehead to theirs for a second, quick and grounding. “then go give ‘em hell.”

yn stood. shoulders squared. jaw set.

the lights were already dimming beyond the stage doors.

and somewhere in the crowd, maybe behind the barricades or just outside the venue, sophia was there. with salem.

waiting.

the first chords hit like muscle memory.

pressure bled into emergency, then into misery business, and YN tore through each song like they were exorcising something — sweat-slicked, breathless, cracking at the edges.

but focused.

tight.

every scream, every note curled off their lips like a confession. the crowd was a blur of lights and hands and mouths yelling lyrics back at them, and somewhere between the third and fourth song, yn finally let their shoulders drop.

the music held them.

it always had.

they hit the break before the final track and stepped forward, fingers flexing around the mic stand, eyes squinting under the pulsing stage lights.

“this last song,” yn started, voice still hoarse from the verse they’d just shredded, “is a little different from the others. we wrote it for a movie about vampires.”

laughter, cheers.

“yeah,” YN smiled a little. “didn’t think we’d ever be on a soundtrack... let alone that one. but when we wrote it, i was thinking about how hard it is to understand the people you love — even when you think you do. especially when they change. or when you do.”

their eyes scanned the crowd absently, words tumbling like muscle reflex.

“so... this is decode. hope you feel it.”

the guitars came in slow, simmering. the synth rippled like dusk over water.

and then—

a flash of pink hair in the front section.

a girl on someone’s shoulders, tiny headphones clamped over her ears, grinning like she owned the sky.

and Sophia.

holding her from behind, eyes wide.

manon was beside her. dani, lara, and yoonchae too — all of them watching, some with hands clasped over their mouths, some just swaying gently with the crowd.

but yn could only see her.

Them.

salem’s eyes — their eyes — stared back.

sophia’s mouth moved around the lyrics, barely audible, but yn didn’t need sound. they knew them already.

i’m screaming I love you so.

the words punched out of their chest harder than they expected.

every strum, every line, cracked with new meaning. years of longing rewired themselves mid-song. and as they reached the bridge, yn stepped closer to the edge of the stage, gaze locked with sophia’s, salem’s hands reaching out.

their voice trembled, but they didn’t stop.

how did we get here when I used to know you so well?

and for the first time in a long time, YN didn’t feel lost.

they felt seen.

they finished the song with a quiet, shaking exhale.

and the crowd roared.

as soon as the last chord faded, YN was moving.

they didn’t wait for the encore chants or the half-hugs from bandmates. they tore the in-ears out, shoved their guitar at a startled tech, and bolted past the backstage corridor like their body knew where it was going before their brain could catch up.

the hallway blurred. someone called their name. they didn’t stop.

out the side doors. Into the humid LA night.

the parking lot buzzed with post-show energy — crew unloading gear, fans screaming behind fences, neon venue signs flickering above.

and then—

there.

by the streetlamp near the side gate.

sophia.

still in that soft sweater from the photo she sent yn about a year ago. her arms were around salem, who was propped up on manon’s hip, babbling something between yawns and giggles.

manon was the first to see them.

she nudged daniela, who turned, then elbowed lara. then yoonchae looked up from her phone and blinked like she couldn’t quite believe it.

“soph,” manon murmured, nudging her gently. “look.”

sophia turned.

her breath caught so visibly it felt like the whole parking lot exhaled.

she didn’t move at first — just stood there, frozen, like if she blinked yn would disappear again.

“hi,” yn managed.

their voice cracked. their whole chest cracked.

sophia stared for another second. then another.

then she walked.

fast.

by the time she reached them, yn’s hands were already out, fingers twitching like they didn’t know where to land — her arm? her shoulder? her cheek?

but sophia didn’t give them the chance.

she shoved her hands against their chest and said, half-laughing, half-sobbing, “you asshole.”

then she threw her arms around their neck and held on.

and yn — dizzy with every scent and warmth and weight they thought they’d lost — hugged her back like it hurt.

which it did.

because this wasn’t a dream.

because she was real.

because she came.

salem’s little voice piped up behind them. “mommy said you were magic.”

yn pulled back just enough to see her — still on manon’s hip, squinting curiously at them.

And yn swore their heart stopped.

“hi, salem,” they whispered.

salem grinned. “i saw you! you screamed a lot.”

they choked on a laugh. “yeah… i do that.”

“sometimes I scream too,” she said proudly. “wanna hear?”

before she could demonstrate, sophia kissed her daughter’s head and gave her a gentle look. “let’s give them a second, baby.”

manon shifted salem into yn’s arms with a practiced ease. “she’s heavier than she looks.”

yn didn’t even notice. didn’t feel anything but salem’s arms around their neck and the tiny heartbeat thudding against theirs.

“you gonna say something profound?” dani teased, nudging sophia gently. “or just keep crying into their hoodie?”

“shut up,” sophia sniffled, laughing a little as she wiped her cheeks.

lara linked her arm with yoonchae’s. “we’ll be by the car.”

the girls gave them all a moment — drifting away slowly, but not without a few meaningful glances and soft smiles over their shoulders.

and then it was quiet again.

just them.

sophia. yn. salem.

and all the time they thought they’d lost.

they walked without speaking at first.

sophia beside them, her arm brushing yn’s every few steps. salem curled in yn’s arms, thumb in her mouth now, her cheek smushed gently against yn’s chest. the adrenaline of the show was gone — replaced by something quieter. heavier. more sacred.

the sidewalk was slick with night air, streetlights casting gold across the parked cars and backstage fencing.

“you know…” sophia finally said, her voice low, rough around the edges, “you have some explaining to do, yn.”

yn swallowed hard.

she didn’t sound angry.

worse — she sounded tired.

“i know,” they said softly.

sophia stopped walking, turned to face them. “you had to know something was wrong when I told you I was sick that night.” she said, referring to the voicemail she had left them.

“i did.”

“but you left anyway.”

yn looked down. salem stirred slightly in their arms, her breath even and warm against their neck.

“i didn’t want to go,” they said. “but i thought… i thought it was just nerves. or food poisoning. i didn’t think—”

“that I was carrying your daughter?” she cut in, not sharp, but precise.

yn flinched.

sophia’s eyes glistened under the streetlight. “I called you, yn. for weeks. i left voicemails until my voice gave out. i went to every show announcement page just to track where you were. i watched bootlegs of your sets, just to feel closer... all while i was bleeding in a hospital bed. alone.”

iI’m sorry,” yn said, hoarse. “i was scared. and selfish. and i thought… maybe not hearing your voice would hurt less than hearing it and knowing i couldn’t come back yet.”

“did it?” she asked quietly.

“no.”

silence stretched between them again.

“you missed so much,” she whispered.

“i know.”

“i had to be strong every day, even when i didn’t want to be... i had to be mom and dad.. a nurse and grown-up, even when i was still just a stupid college girl with lecture notes in her diaper bag... and still i played your music for her. i let her fall in love with you.”

yn looked up sharply at that. “why?”

sophia smiled, but it was sad. “because I never stopped loving you.”

that broke something in them.

yn stepped closer. not too close. not without permission. “i want to know her. i want to know you again, soph. if you’ll let me.”

sophia blinked slow, like she was holding back everything her body wanted to do. scream. cry. collapse. forgive.

she reached out and brushed her fingers across salem’s hair. “let’s start small, rockstar.”

then she looked up at yn.

“you can walk us home.. my apartment's not that far from here.”

sophia’s apartment was smaller than yn remembered.

or maybe they had just grown too much — in distance, in guilt, in time.

the space was warm, lived-in. a scatter of children’s books on the coffee table. a pink hoodie tossed over the arm of the couch. fairy lights strung up around the window, dimmed low now, like even they didn’t want to intrude.

salem had fallen asleep halfway through the walk. she was still curled in yn’s arms, her fingers fisted into the fabric of their hoodie like she knew exactly who she was holding — like she'd always known.

“here,” sophia whispered, pulling the soft gray blanket off the back of the couch. she draped it carefully over salem after yn laid her down.

for a long moment, they both just stood there — watching her breathe.

sophia crossed her arms over her chest. “she likes when you sing.”

yn’s lips parted, startled. “you really play my stuff for her?”

sophia’s gaze didn’t leave salem. “yeah. at bedtime sometimes. when she’s scared. or after a tantrum.”

she smiled faintly. “the softer ones. not the ones where you're yelling about feeling the pressures and all that crazy shit.”

yn snorted quietly. “fair.”

a beat passed.

then sophia walked over to the kitchen counter and poured herself a glass of water. she didn't offer yn one. she didn’t have to. it wasn’t hospitality tonight. it was survival.

“do you know what it feels like to fall asleep next to a voicemail?” she asked, not turning around. “to let someone’s ghost read bedtime stories to your daughter because the real thing never called back?”

yn’s throat closed.

“i don’t expect you to forgive me,” they said quietly.

“good,” sophia replied, taking a slow sip. “because i haven’t.”

she turned then, eyes shining in the low light. but there was no rage there. only grief. only bone-deep tiredness.

“i missed you every single day,” she said. “but i had to grieve you like you were dead... necause you were gone. and now you’re standing in my living room, holding her like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I don’t know whether to fall apart or push you out the door.”

“i’m not going anywhere,” yn said, stepping closer. “not this time.”

she didn’t speak.

instead, she walked past them — slow, deliberate — and sat on the edge of the couch, beside salem. her fingers brushed the little girl's curls from her forehead. her whole body softened just from the contact.

yn sank to the floor in front of them. they looked up, chin resting on the couch cushion, studying sophia like a prayer they were scared to say out loud.

“i want to help,” they whispered. “whatever that looks like... i know i have no right to ask for a second chance... but i want to be here. for her, for you. even if i have to work my way up from the sidewalk.”

sophia looked at them for a long time.

and for a second, she looked like she might cry again.

instead, she whispered, “she calls the moon her ‘nightlight star.’”

yn blinked. “that’s beautiful.”

“she gets that from you,” sophia said. “she says it sings to her... like you do.”

the silence between them filled again — but it wasn’t heavy this time.

it was more sacred.

sophia leaned back on the couch and tilted her head toward the ceiling. “you can crash here tonight. the couch pulls out.”

“okay.”

“i’m still mad at you.”

“i know.”

she looked at them again — really looked.

but there was a softness now. a thread of something old, something forgiving, maybe not fully healed, but not as shattered as before.

and under the blanket, salem shifted in her sleep. a quiet hum left her lips.

“sing to her?” sophia asked softly. “like you used to.”

yn nodded.

they hummed a familiar tune under their breath as they moved closer to sophia, resting their head on her leg.

and as they sang, salem sighed in her sleep, curling deeper into the couch.

sophia stayed seated beside her.

listening.

eyes closed.

just like old times.

except this time, yn was here instead of in salem's radio.

[rainnyyriyah]

katseye, jeff buckley, AND paramore. my niche

[rainnyyriyah]

~ TAKE A RIDE ☙ S.L

a/n: saw something about biker sophia. so for my first post, headcanons. ALSO IF ITS REALLY ASS TELL ME AND LIKE TELL ME HOW TO IMPROVE IN MY ASKS. this is my first blog usually im a lurker. ill probably make a sophia or dani fic since like im in love with them idk.

cw: suggestive, a bit short

pairing: biker!sophia x f!reader

the day after you asked sophia to ride the back of her bike, she showed up with knee pads and an extra helmet. “Put these on and hold onto me tight, okay?”

Sophia usually drives fast—reckless and carefree. But when you’re on the back of her bike, she takes it slow, strategically moving through traffic, and she makes sure her baby, you, is especially safe.

Sophia LOVES quality time; especially with you. And late night rides are perfect for that. after a long drive, she’ll pull over at y’all’s favorite secluded gas station. she’ll turn around on her bike to face you, hands around your waist, pulling you in closer for a long and deep kiss.

On her bike, Sophia gives off major “bad-boy” energy. She loves to tease, she’s self-assured, owning the space that’s her bike. But she’s still the sweet, gentle, and loving girl who is playful and bubbly personality makes you fall deeply in love.

She likes everything done in a very specific way—so much so that she taught herself how to modify, repair, and maintain her own bike. She can spend days working on it until she’s satisfied with the result, and even then, she’s not always convinced it’s perfect. And yes, she looks amazingly sexy in grease-stained clothes.

not really a headcanon but THE HELMET STAYS ONNNN

[ynkumakainngpuki]

Ace?

[rainnyyriyah]

yuppp

[rainnyyriyah]

i know its just supposed to be a cute photo but OH MAA GAWDD. daniela looks so hot like everything about this picture the hair, the hoodie, the face just EVERYTHING

[rainnyyriyah]

~ TAKE A RIDE ☙ S.L

a/n: saw something about biker sophia. so for my first post, headcanons. ALSO IF ITS REALLY ASS TELL ME AND LIKE TELL ME HOW TO IMPROVE IN MY ASKS. this is my first blog usually im a lurker. ill probably make a sophia or dani fic since like im in love with them idk.

cw: suggestive, a bit short

pairing: biker!sophia x f!reader

the day after you asked sophia to ride the back of her bike, she showed up with knee pads and an extra helmet. “Put these on and hold onto me tight, okay?”

Sophia usually drives fast—reckless and carefree. But when you’re on the back of her bike, she takes it slow, strategically moving through traffic, and she makes sure her baby, you, is especially safe.

Sophia LOVES quality time; especially with you. And late night rides are perfect for that. after a long drive, she’ll pull over at y’all’s favorite secluded gas station. she’ll turn around on her bike to face you, hands around your waist, pulling you in closer for a long and deep kiss.

On her bike, Sophia gives off major “bad-boy” energy. She loves to tease, she’s self-assured, owning the space that’s her bike. But she’s still the sweet, gentle, and loving girl who is playful and bubbly personality makes you fall deeply in love.

She likes everything done in a very specific way—so much so that she taught herself how to modify, repair, and maintain her own bike. She can spend days working on it until she’s satisfied with the result, and even then, she’s not always convinced it’s perfect. And yes, she looks amazingly sexy in grease-stained clothes.

not really a headcanon but THE HELMET STAYS ONNNN