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ashasdiary · 2 days ago

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Bodyguard

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader Synopsis: Geto finds out you’re being harassed at work. CW: harassment, established relationship, protective!geto, angry!geto, Geto beats him up, a little angst, fluff, brief suggestiveness WC: 1.9k A/N: no one look at me I’m trying to cope 😵‍💫

It started very innocently. Just small chats here and there, in the work kitchen, passing by through the hallways, in the elevators. Then the chats became a bit longer. You initially thought your coworker Daniel was just being attentive, asking about you, showing genuine interest in what you had to say. To be sometimes expected from a work colleague.

But you realised his intentions early on. So you made it a point each time he asked your plans to mention your boyfriend, Geto, just to make sure he was aware that you were not interested.

That didn’t stop him.

Every time he passed by your desk, he’d pat your shoulder and mouth a small ‘hi’. Initially, it wasn’t concerning, because it was minor, just him saying hi in greeting. But the more time passed, the longer his touches on your shoulder, and the more agitated you got.

He’d join you, uninvited, while you had your lunch. Offering him a polite smile, you wouldn’t say anything as he’d sit near to you in the work kitchen.

“Whatcha got?” He asked once.

“Just a sandwich,” you reply, mouth full, not caring about manners in that moment. Because he had eyes. Why ask stupid questions?

“Oh, nice. Healthy,” he nods, opening up his food container, “You always have healthy stuff.”

You blink a few times, thinking what the hell, keeping tabs on my lunch? He begins to eat and you hum, kind of dismissively, “Yeah.”

You continue to eat your sandwich in silence, looking at your phone, hoping he’ll leave you in peace. Ha! Why would he?

“What did you get up to on the weekend?” He asks and you glance up at him, giving a tight lipped smile.

“Had a day out with my boyfriend, we did a hike and then saw a new movie…not much else,” you say.

“Ah, hikes are great. I hope it was a good movie. It’s nice having a companion, but I’m so particular about who I keep around…it’s why I can’t find anyone decent,” he responds, and you chew on your lip, feeling a bit unnerved by the trajectory of the conversation.

His phone rings then, and you thank the stars for the interruption. You stand up then as he takes it and you say something about your lunch break finishing before you dash out of there.

Geto had noticed you’d been a bit down recently, but he didn’t want to push you to talk about it because he knew that there wasn’t always a reason for being down. Moods fluctuate, something he could personally understand completely. Instead, he ups his affection to you, making sure you feel loved, and seen, and safe. Which you always do.

That week, it continued.

Fucking hell, was he persistent. More touches; the shoulder taps had become shoulder squeezes. More questions. More attention.

At the very least you were thankful you weren’t working in the same team or even in the same department. But still, it was starting to affect you. You’d feel anxious as it approached the time that he’d come into work. You’d feel anxious when you heard his footsteps.

Your coworker who sat beside you noticed it too. “He’s so weird…what’s his problem?” She comments, then her voice softens when she looks at you being tense, “hey…you okay?”

“Not really…” you whisper to her, voice wavering.

She looks concerned, “Tell HR. I’ve seen what he’s been doing, every day, it’s creepy.”

“But I don’t want to cause trouble,” you find yourself saying, and you trail off as you hear yourself. It sounds ridiculous and you know it.

Your colleague says your name, “Come on. It’s not. Do not sacrifice your comfort. Go tell them…or do you want me to?” She asks.

Deliberating for a moment, you then shake your head and inhale deeply, “I will.”

After having a conversation with HR, it all happens very fast. Within 3 hours, Daniel is being escorted out of the building having been fired.

You feel sick to your stomach, because you hadn’t wanted to cause such a drastic consequence. But as the day goes on, you are reassured that it was a completely justified decision.

It’s when you’re on the way home that you get a text from an unknown number, angrily asking what he’d done to deserve that and that you should watch your back.

When you go home to Geto that day, you walk through the door and burst into tears, all of your built up emotions being let out. He’s quick to envelope you in his arms tightly and hold you against the warmth of his chest.

“Hey, sweetheart…shh…I’ve got you, it’s okay…come sit down,” he says to you, in a soft, hushed voice as he guides you to the couch. You sit on his lap, face buried in his neck as you sniffle, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Tell me what’s going on, honey,” he prompts, rubbing your back in soothing circles, “talk to me.”

So you tell him everything. Every instance, every encounter, every inappropriate conversation. And then the text. You notice that as you’d been explaining, he’d stiffened, his gaze had turned ice cold.

He utters your name, gently pushing your hair behind your ear as you look at him, “You should have told me the minute this began…” he sighs softly, “Maybe take some time off work. And if you don’t want to do that, I’m going to take you to and from there. Okay? Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise.”

The conviction in his tone is a safety blanket to you and you bury yourself against him, whispering a thank you and an I love you.

“I love you too, sweetheart. You’re safe, always,” he kisses your hair and holds you for the rest of the evening.

You’d debated taking time off, but you knew that would only postpone your fear. So you go to work as usual, but with the safety of Geto’s company.

He had suggested driving you to and from, but you knew the traffic in the city was awful which would be quite long. So he commutes with you. Four trips he makes each day, just to ensure that you are safe.

His presence alone was enough but knowing that he’d never let anything happen to you, that he was there only to protect you, makes you feel very much at ease.

You’re pressed up against each other on the train a couple of weeks later and he grins at you, snaking his arm around your waist. “Up close and personal, huh,” you murmur to him.

“Not close enough,” he teases you with a wink and you flick his chin with a laugh.

“Sugu, you might as well just come and work at the same company with all these trips you’re making,” you say as you walk hand in hand from the station to your work building.

He chuckles, “While that would be fun, working in the same place as you, I think that they might end up firing me too for inappropriate touching,” he jokes and you laugh at this.

He smiles to himself at the sound of your laugh, happy to see that you’re not feeling so anxious or sensitive anymore and can laugh at jokes about it.

“You’d always want to get me alone,” you tease.

“Oh, yeah. Every chance I get,” he squeezes your hand as you approach the building.

You head inside together and you let go of his hand, readying your keycard to swipe through the security gate several meters away, and you’re about to bid each other goodbye when you stop in your tracks. Geto looks to you in question and he follows your gaze to where Daniel is stood outside the security gate, waiting.

He didn’t know what Daniel looked like of course, but he is quick to put two and two together. At the same time, Daniel sees you. You tremble slightly as you see the look on his face as he storms over, somehow not making note of the giant 6’3 man stood beside you.

Geto quickly approaches, and he grabs Daniel by the collar, lifting him easily off the floor. “You have some nerve coming here again…I ought to teach you a fucking lesson,” Geto seethes.

Daniel is completely taken aback, turning into a spluttering mess as he grabs onto Geto’s arm that was holding him up, “I— I didn’t do anything! I don’t even know you! Put me down!”

Geto’s brows furrowed deeply, his blood boiling, “You sly piece of shit, you deserve what’s coming,” Geto says through clenched teeth, and throws Daniel across the shiny floor. He slides a few yards before coming to a stop. He curls into a ball as Geto angrily approaches him, crouching down and pulling his head back by his hair.

“You think this is funny? Showing up to your old workplace just to harass someone again?” Geto raises his voice.

“N-no, I didn’t—” Daniel quivers, but Geto’s not hearing it.

“Like hell you didn’t,” Geto bites back, then performs a jujutsu technique that has the man being catapulted against the wall so forcefully that it cracks.

Daniel is knocked out cold. You cover your mouth in shock before you rush over to Geto’s side and hold onto his arm, “Sugu…”

At the same time, security guards rush over to both Geto and Daniel and police had been called as well. The security guard recognises you but says to Geto, “Sir, police have been called. We ask for your cooperation.”

“You don’t want me to leave the premises?” Geto asks coolly, swiping some sweat off his cheek with his thumb.

“No, sir,” the security guard gestures for Geto to follow him and waits for him to do so.

You look at Geto helplessly. “Sugu, I’m sorry—” you begin and he frowns.

“Why’re you sorry? This isn’t your fault. I acted in your defence. He was clearly coming at you,” he says, his eyes searching yours, placing his hands on your arms and caressing them gently. You relax a little bit. He’s right, of course.

“They can charge me but if any, it’s likely they’ll be dropped. There’s CCTV here, and the security guards,” he looks over to the security guard stood waiting beside you both and speaks directly to him, “were clearly negligent in carrying out their jobs to allow someone who’d been fired for harassment back into the building again.”

The guard swallows thickly. You try to hide your smile at how Geto’s handling this, it’s admirable to see.

“There’s no problem for me, I’ll happily cooperate and give my statement to the police. The evidence is right there,” Geto says to you and nods his head to the CCTV cameras overhead.

“Can I come with you?” You ask, and he outstretches his arm.

“They’ll probably want a statement from you too. It’s best if you did,” he says and you both walk with the security guard to the side.

Police arrive, take statements, and evidence of the CCTV. They determine there’s no charges. You head back home with Suguru and take the day off.

He’d made your favourite meal for lunch, and as you’re curled up together on the couch eating and watching TV, you kiss his cheek. “It’s sweet having you as my bodyguard.”

“I like being it too,” he replies and glances over to you with a tender gaze, feeling content that he’s the one to protect you and keep you safe.

“Does this mean we can do bodyguard role play in the bedroom?” You say and he coughs, almost choking on his food.

You laugh quietly and pat his back as he says your name, “Now that, I didn’t expect.”

“Is that a yes?” You grin as he sips on his drink, eyeing you over the rim.

He sets his glass down and smirks, “It certainly is.”

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nightmareweaverz · 2 days ago

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What Is Love? (Mr. Gap x GN!Reader)

(Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me)

This contains spoilers!!

CW: brief mention of murder, one single swear word, romantic gestures but it's all SFW, reader is a serial killer Word count: 1923

Hi, hello, I ended up writing fanfiction for this game after all. And it's for Mr. Gap because I love this dumb void creature obsessed with body parts. He's a love interest in the game, don't boo me, I'm right. Might continue this one later, maybe? Not sure if it's a one shot or not yet.

How long has it been since you’d decided to return to the other world indefinitely? You’re not entirely sure. Time is hard to measure here. You sleep when you are tired and you eat when you’re hungry. You’re at least certain you’ve slept many times since then. Sometimes you wonder whether decades go by as you remain here, among ghosts and monsters.

If you’re entirely honest, it isn’t so bad. You can massacre whoever you please and nobody bats an eye. There’s no need to hide bodies, build alibis, get rid of evidence.

Yet, at the same time, with every new set of hallways and decaying rooms, you begin to sympathize more with the likes of Mr. Stitch and Mr. Machete. You’d once wondered why someone would give away clothes for free or play hairdresser in this world. Now you find yourself yearning for something similar, a purpose or at least a way to pass the time.

At least you aren’t alone. Mr. Gap has become an expected presence in every crevice, hole and gash you gaze into. He’s still a mischievous little jerk, of course, but there is comfort in knowing someone nonthreatening is at your side at all times. And he keeps your boredom at bay sometimes.

One day (or perhaps night), you’re walking through the maze of hallways and rooms of the Other World, searching for a way to entertain yourself. You hope to encounter a new face. Or perhaps an old one. Part of you still hopes you’ll run into Mr. Crawling or Mr. Chopped again, as unlikely as it may be.

Room, after room, after room, you walk. Until, eventually, your legs grow tired and, with a long sigh, you lean against a wall. Mr. Gap’s face appears in a nearby hole.

“What wrong?” he inquires.

“Bored,” you confess.

“Me fun. Give your heart.”

You scoff. “You not fun.”

He shoots you a disgruntled look of disbelief, which begrudgingly makes you snicker. He thinks too highly of himself if he believes constant demands for body parts is considered entertainment. Messing with him on the other hand…

You set your crowbar aside, then curl your palms in the shape of a heart, which you then present to Mr. Gap.

“What you do?”

“This is heart.”

“That is hand.”

“No, this is heart. Above world heart.” You grin mischievously.

He looks entirely unimpressed and partially confused. “That not heart.”

“This heart humans show when lots of like someone.”

He goes quiet for a bit, still staring at your hands like they’re an unsolvable riddle. Then he stares at your face, even more confused. “You lots of like me?”

Oh. You hadn’t considered that’s how the explanation would come across. You were only trying to poke fun at him. How do you talk your way out of this one? Would he get mad if you said no? Would it even be true to say no? You don’t think you’re ready for that type of introspection.

“That…” you search for the right words in the very limited vocabulary of the Other World’s language. “Not… know…” you finally force out.

“Why this heart show?”

Now it’s your turn to grow frustrated with him. “Why you want heart?”

He’s already given you an answer to that question in the past. Because it’s fun. Something you failed to comprehend. Perhaps the same way he failed to comprehend your idea of “like.” So before he can answer, you grab your crowbar and march off.

Unfortunately, the question pops into your mind again as you continue to wander aimlessly. Can someone like you fall in love?

You've taken so many lives, simply because it was fun or convenient or you got sick of their attitude. You've done the same thing in this world.

The hunched over figure of Mr. Crawling pops into your mind. Then, the smiling face of Mr. Chopped. And, eventually, Mr. Gap's annoying grin. Those are people you wouldn't kill. They are people you want to keep around. Perhaps people you would kill for instead, if needed. But does this attachment go deep enough to be called love?

Perhaps you aren't sure of what that feeling is anymore than Mr. Gap and it’s all feigned knowledge.

Your feet are hurting by the time you finally find a proper place to rest. You've lost track of time.

Though your body is tired, your mind remains restless as you set aside your crowbar and sit on the bed. This is a far cry from the entertaining activity you’d hoped to find.

“What wrong?” a familiar voice inquires beneath the sheets. You lift them up to reveal Mr. Gap’ face once again.

How do you even explain your issue to him?

“Feeling not know.”

He goes quiet for a bit. “Teach me lots of like?”

Is he saying he wants you to explain love to him? How do you even begin to do that? Perhaps you can narrow it down to romantic love at least.

“When lots of like, person special. Say nice words. Want to protect. Want to follow. Do special touch. Help person when need.”

The limited vocabulary makes it especially hard to put it into words. You aren't sure how well you'd explain it to another human either.

As expected, Mr. Gap looks puzzled. “Nice words? Special touch?”

He's focusing on the more romantic aspects, it seems. You prop your head against your hand, thinking. “Nice words not have here language. My language have nice words.”

“I see…” he murmurs. “Show special touch?”

You pout at him. “Why?”

“Want to know.”

So he's just curious. Or, knowing him, he heard the word “special” and decided he wanted it to be about him. He does have a bit of a big ego, always taking pride in startling you, often shoving pages of articles about him in your face. You cross your arms and turn your back to him.

“What wrong?”

“You bad. Me need help, you want heart. Me need help, you want hand, you want head, you want leg. Me not show special touch.”

“Me nice,” he says, sounding offended. You don't have to turn around to know he's giving you that astonished look he makes whenever you criticize or baffle him.

You laugh mockingly. “Not. Goodnight.” And with that, you shove down the sheet, blocking him from view. He's always poking fun at you, it's about time he got a taste of his own medicine.

. . .

When you wake up, Mr. Gap is nowhere in sight. It isn't entirely unusual. He has moments when he's off doing his own thing. Deciding to do the same, you take off in search of something interesting to occupy yourself with. Preferably not another mind boggling question.

Hours pass, probably. Residents appear every once in a while, some friendly, some hostile. None of them scare you anymore. You only interact with them to pass the time. Until you eventually come to a stop in a room full of debris and objects from the human world. There, you sit down and begin to search for anything worthwhile. Maybe something to read.

To your luck, you gather several magazines and books. Your arms are full by the time you feel a tremor shake the room. Another earthquake. You waste no time getting out of there with your new haul.

But as you stop to set everything down, you realize you've left your crowbar behind, in the now collapsed room. A few curses rush out under your breath.

“Hello.”

You turn around to find Mr. Gap peeking out of a hole in the wall. “Want attack tool?” He waves the tip of your lost crowbar around. “Take, take.”

“Take? You not want heart?”

“Not want!”

Huh. Maybe he took your criticism yesterday to heart. You grab the crowbar and mutter a “Thank you.”

That wide, unnerving smile of his spreads over his face before he fades off into the darkness. What is he planning now?

For the next few days, he continues to go out of his way to bring you things, take you places and fulfill any requests you might have without demanding any body parts in exchange. Relying on him almost becomes a habit. However, you have a slight suspicion he's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart or because he felt particularly sad about your accusations. These nice gestures must be leading to something.

And surely enough, at some point, during one of your breaks from wandering, he appears before you, looking particularly delighted.

“Me nice. Show special touch.”

How typical. You narrow your eyes at him.

“No?” he asks, the smile fading from his face.

Part of you wants to lecture him on doing all that to prove a point. The other part suspects it won’t do much.

“Okay okay. Me show,” you give in. Maybe this will make him act nicer overall. You can't deny the fact that he's helped you a lot lately.

“Thank you.”

You position yourself directly in front of the hole in the wall and then point at him. “Hand.”

He blinks. “Not give my hand.”

Of course he thinks you want his severed hand.

“Me touch your hand,” you clarify. At that, he finally understands and sticks one of his hands out.

His palm feels cold and damp to the touch when you press yours against it, but his skin is oddly soft. You interlock your fingers. His own remain limp in the air for a moment. Then, upon observing what you're doing, his fingers press down against the back of your palm, mimicking yours. It's not an unpleasant feeling.

Are his nails naturally black or does he paint them, you wonder. The image of Mr. Gap painting his nails makes you snicker internally.

“This one touch,” you explain. “Human person do this with special person.”

He stares at your interlocked hands, intrigued. “You know more?”

Naturally, you do, but you hesitate as the next gesture comes to mind. Your own curiosity is beginning to kick in, ushering you to try it. Will it awaken anything in you?

Driven by that curiosity you say: “Yes.” Then, reach into the opening in the wall with your free hand.

His cheek is just as cold and damp as his hand, perhaps the effect of dwelling inside crevices and hollows all the time. Gently, you tug him towards you and he follows, gaze flickering between your hand and your face. You lean closer as well.

His lips are dry against yours. And you feel no breath from him. Whether it's because he's holding it in or he never breathes to begin with, you aren't sure. You don't linger for long, but something odd stirs your insides for the brief moment you spend kissing him.

How suitable, for someone like you to be exploring love with a sinister void dweller who knows even less about it than you do. Oddly enough, you don't dislike it.

“This lots, lots special,” you explain after you've pulled away and let go of his hand.

He uses his now freed hand to touch his lips. A smug look is slowly overtaking his face. This arrogant little jerk.

“Me special,” he concludes.

“Not,” you argue. “You ask. Me show.”

You have a bit of a staring contest between your glare and his smug grin.

“Me want your heart,” he says finally, still with that smug look.

“Oh, fuck you!”

It's going to take a long time if Mr. Gap is to become anything akin to a lover.

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #mr gap x reader #drabble #fluff #reader insert #mr gap

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yanmuffins · 2 days ago

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what if the dimension of batman vs vampires p&f reader and damian accidentally stumbles upon is vampire!reader dimension? oh, and they arrive after vampire!reader is killed and turned into a vampire

the drama if p&f reader looks the exact same as vampire!reader (honestly, i see them as two different people since p&f reader is the same age as Damian and vampire!reader seems to be dick's age), since bruce looks at them and can't quite remember If vampire!reader looked like this when they were little

they all looking at p&f reader and damian being kids and wondering If vampire!reader were like that at this age, but then realizing that they don't have memories of vampire!reader like that

the despair, the anxiety, the guilt they fell

Why didn't they noticed vampire!reader sooner? why didn't they acknowledged them? why why why why

now vampire!reader it's nowhere to be found, and they could be in danger (they are), hell, for all they know they could be dead! (they kinda are)

and p&f reader and damian slowly backing away as they watch these alternate versions of their family descend into madness

let's just hope that version of the batfam finds vampire!reader fast and don't become desperate enough to end up becoming yanderes for p&f reader too

context &. context.

interesting!!!

i think vampire! reader and p&f! reader are basically just different versions of the same person. p&f! reader is gender neutral so they could be whatever gender you want them to be, while vampire! reader is female. also, you are correct, vampire! reader is older. while p&f! reader is around a year older than damian and came to the manor after him (being around 10 when they came to the manor and 14 in the fic), vampire! reader is around 21-years-old, closer to jason in age, and came to the manor somwhere between dick leaving for the teen titans and bruce adopting jason.

so, yes, p&f! reader is not only younger, but was the last one to arrive at the manor in their reality, and they had a pretty good, healthy childhood before that. not to mention bruce already had damian, so the concept of a biological child wasn't entirely alien to him, and they already had their hands full with him. the familial bonds ate tight-knit, lives are too busy, bruce already has to deal with his exceptional children and since reader is so normal, they're kinda overlooked.

and although there are similarities in the way and reasons both readers are neglected, i think it's worse with vampire! reader. she's around 7 when she comes to the manor, the circumstances around it being extremely shady (it was a scandal), and she's there before anyone except dick, whom she has shallow interactions with. from then on comes jason and the following children, and she just has to watch her father (and older brother) make time for everyone but her.

anyway, appearence-wise, p&f! reader and vampire! essentially look the same, or at least extremely similiar. but here's the thing: vampire reader's bruce does remember what his daughter looked like when she was around p&f! reader's age. and that's what makes him crumble, because vampire! reader looked abstemious and somber from a yong age, which is a far cry from her younger, alternate-dimension version.

that fact hits him the hardest, but dick notices it too. his birdie looked like a mini-adult from the day she came to the manor, and seeing p&f! reader he just wishes he could have actually bothered to be there for her. jason notices it the most because he was the one closest to reader before joker killed him, as she was the only one in the manor around his age. the others, though?

they have no idea. mostly because they weren't there when vampire! reader was a kid, but there are some memories; of her welcoming them home, little acts of affection, trying to get close to them. and they took it for granted. they started noticing her lately, yeah, but as it seems it had been a bit too late.

vampire! au damian would feel kinda jealous of the sibling bond p&f! reader and damian share, it would stir conflict between the two damians which i think could be funny amidst the angst (if you ignore that they're both kinda terrified of this batfam spiraling). all in all, i think bruce thinks of how shit it is to have a child missing so he would make sure to help send both p&f! reader and damian home safely. he's got his own kid to take care of and good lord, that's going too big of a mess for him to even worry about the two intruders in his dimension.

#p&f reader and damian dimension traveling adventures! except they keep going to fucked up realities and noping the hell out of there.#asks.#i need to start tagging these aus properly.#vampire! batsis.#long post.#yandere batman #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere bruce wayne #dark batfamily

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eybefioro · 2 days ago

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Forgive me, Father

Rated T, ~15,3k words, - 2/2 chapters! (Completed)

Summary:

Aziraphale lost almost everything in the bookshop fire. In the remains of his his life, he finds an old shoe box, and inside it the letters – and memories – he had buried for so long.

While putting his life together again with the support of his friends, he relives his days as Father Fell and all the hurt and joy of having had Father Crowley by his side.

A human AU, where Aziraphale and Crowley were priests in the same church. Inspired by this tumblr post <3

Chapter 2 - Not only a memory

Excerpt:

His days were passing in a haze. He dedicated his time to volunteer work, while neglecting his own troubles. Dealing with insurance companies was a nightmare. He was making progress, of course, and the money he got would be enough to at least make his little flat and the shop space livable again but… that’s it. No money to keep him alive during the time it would take to get the shop running again. No money to pay rent. No money to buy books, re-stock and have things to sell… He really, really didn’t want to think about how he was going to get by, considering his savings, so he focused his energies on others; on the people he felt needed more help than himself.

Read it on Ao3! 💛

Again special thanks to @captainblou and @itsscottiesstark , for the beta & support <3 <3

And extra special thanks to @gribouli for lending me their beautiful art!!!!!

tagging: @shadesofecclescakes @cobragardens @lolalu16 @sabotage-on-mercury @maaikeatthefullmoon thank you for your interest <3 It really hyped me up to finish writing it! Hope you enjoy this happy ending 💛

(also hello @goodomensafterdark 👀 it’s not a smutty one but i think yall might like it)

#fanfiction #sdrOwOrds #good omens #good omens fanfiction #ao3 #crowley x aziraphale #aziracrow

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geekgirl101 · 6 hours ago

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More 8x06 thoughts. Still processing

I've been trying to express my feelings about 8x06 on paper, and there's still so much swirling in my head. So apologies if this is too long and ranty.

The GA isn't happy for a lot of reasons. One was that Tommy did fit with the 118, he was friends with Eddie and Chim. Two: they were happy Buck was in a relationship, and it seemed like (at least in season 7) that he was finally off the hamster wheel. And they like Eddie and Buck's friendship and don't want to see them together. After all the BS takes I've seen from you-know-whos, I can't say I disagree at all.

It's like neither Buck nor the writers have learned anything from past love interests. Tommy is the one with the most potential because of how well he fits, and he clearly has a lot of abandonment issues. Hey, so does Buck. That could have been a great point to explore.

I don't think Buck needs to sleep around to explore himself. But I do think Buck never fully processed anything.

It's wild that Buck and Tommy dated for six months and NEVER had any real conversations about exes? Tommy does strike me as the kind of person who keeps people at arm's length, who maybe doesn't say much about his past unless he has to. He could have also held back because he was letting Buck set the pace. I know Tommy isn't a main character. But they could have done so much more with this and with him. Hopefully its not the end.

The show also did nothing to show Buck's growth in a relationship, aside from the fact that he kissed a boy and liked it.

8x01 showed us that Buck was competent, professional, and mature, and stupidly I was hoping that would extend to his relationship too.

I think Buck has to figure out what he wants out of a relationship, I hope we see more of Buck talking to Josh or Hen and then he and Tommy work on making a relationship that's lasting, honest, and full of love (if we're grudging up Abby, we can continue the red string here and make that nod too)

What also bothers me is they took 3 episodes to build Buck and Tommy and show us that they have chemistry and that Tommy shows up for Buck, they had two more moments where it was clear they were getting to know each other and were solid in season 7.

And then it took them 1 episode to tear it all down without ever showing Buck showing up for Tommy. They were supposed to be getting to know each other. But six months in, it's like they didn't even know each other at all... or actually. It's like Buck didn't know Tommy at all.

I find it frustrating that we got to see so little of them, and most of it was Tommy doing things for Buck, showing up for Buck, complementing Buck, and taking care of Buck. A relationship has to be a two-way street. You show up for me, I show up for you.

And I'm glad Tommy showed up for Buck. Buck deserves love. But so does Tommy. Tommy was clearly looking for love, IDk if he was looking for a family or anything long term. Maybe he was dealing with a bad breakup and Buck was adorable, and he thought, maybe this could be a thing for now, but he ended up falling for him, clearly, and panicked. But I think on some level he was looking for someone to show up for him too, even when things got hard. And maybe this is foreshadowing. I hope it is. But I refuse to get my hopes up about it, or about Buck's love life ever again.

#911 abc #bucktommy #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bvddie shippers DNI #thanks for reading

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teddyniffler · 2 days ago

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The Harry Potter TV show will have more content on The House of Gaunt... or at least, I hope so.

The creators of the TV show have announced Hogwarts legacy will tie into the HP TV show and vice versa, for example, Philosopher's Stone, when Harry is asking Ron about his family, if they were all wizards, Ron can mention his great- great Aunt was deputy headmistress once under Professor Black, it can be little things like this, however the one idea that has my interest is Chamber of Secrets.

Remember in Hogwarts Legacy there was said to be a Gaunt quest that was removed, a player found the files in the back code, where players could go to the legendery House of Gaunt. With the Director's cut coming out in the near future, it's likely that quest may be back in the game. The makers of Hogwarts legacy know players love Sebastian and Ominis, the tops with both of their faces, both boys being in the Quidditch game, general love for them both in the fandom.

On Harry Potter (Past Wizarding World / Pottermore) there is fragments of the Gaunt history, and while you have to go searching for it in many places, you can build up a picture of the family, and there's a bit on Corvinus Gaunt as a student at Hogwarts in the 1700s, hiding the chamber within the plumbing. We know a child of a Gaunt, Isolt Sayre founded the American school. We know from Hogwarts Legacy that Ominis' father still had influence and power in the wizarding world, able to have his say with the Headmaster. They are well known for being dark wizards, with a ton of knowledge and ancient rituals they apparently perform on their kids, the stuff Noctua wanted her brother to stop. These are not the same Gaunts of Half Blood Prince, these are the Gaunts who still had power and were dangerous wizards.

So the TV show is linking Hogwarts legacy to the TV show. They said if they go outside of Canon - Aka adding in Ominis, a young member of the Gaunt family- JKR gets to know and they confirm if she is happy with it. She knows about Ominis and the Gaunt storylines from the game.

She herself created fragmented insights to the Gaunts. Who is this young wizard who causally hid the chamber of secrets enterence without a second thought of all the children just like him who he is helping to kill? I would love to learn more about Corvinus. Was he forced into hiding it? Did he do it willingly? Is he more like a Draco or Regulus character who believes in what their parents tell them to believe. Did he hide it out of fear of what his family would do to him, should he allow the chamber to be found? So many questions about him.

They've been guarding the chamber for centuries. What does that do to more gentle Gaunts like Ominis or Isolt or her mother, Rionach Gaunt, who are good, decent people.

The Gaunts are briefly mentioned in the book, but their history is so fascinating, but the majority of it is outside the original books. You can find loads more on the Harry Potter site. You can find it in Hogwarts Legacy, but the books only cover Marvolo, Morfin and Merope, and Voldermort ends two of them (somewhat remotely)

The TV show can change that. In Chamber of Secrets, show Harry stumbling upon Corvinus Gaunt's name or picture in an old book or trophy. Have Harry walking through the chamber and, unseen by Harry himself, have the name 'Gaunt' scratched into the wall, placed there long ago by yet another Gaunt. Show Professor Black standing with a man who is Mr. Gaunt (Marvolo and Ominis' father) and have the trio question who he is—who is this Gaunt fellow and why was he so important back then? Then keep the little clues coming until Half-Blood Prince when Harry hears the name Gaunt. Then have it hit him that these people are the ones who guarded the chamber, who were Slytherin's ancestors. Then have him slowly realize he has been obsessing over Voldemort's family for years and have him realise it's not him, but the Horcrux inside of him that's doing it. The amount of foreshadowing here can be huge.

Harry is related to them, somewhat distantly, but with the Gaunts paticularly way of breeding, Harry's bloodline is the closest to family they have. They are all Peverell decendents, fated to carry the secret of the Deathly Hallows down their lines. Voldermort and Harry are more or less cousins and when people learn that for the first time, they are shocked, but maybe they can explore that in the show, the books hide it well, leaving little clues, but its often missed by more casual readers.

Have Dumbledore in season 6 mention one of the Gaunts, a young boy who ran away from the House of Gaunt at a young age, was never found by Voldemort and escaped the certain death that would have surely came to him from him also being an heir of Slytherin, as Voldemort wanted to ensure he was the only one—that would really make Ominis' fans happy. Have Dumbledore hope he had a happy life, had children, that they are out there somewhere still to this day, other Gaunts. Maybe even say he found one and asked for permission to destory their ring. Leave Harry a note in HP 7 that the Gaunts said destroy it in the end, to free them of their last link to a darker past.

I really hope they do something like this, even in Goblet of Fire, show Voldermort in the Riddle house and have him mention it used to belong to his own family, before they lost everything (That would make me so happy as its a personal headcanon of mine that the Riddle House is really the House of Gaunt)

I know some people are now anxious after seeing the news, but I think this is a really, really good thing. This didn't even mention the Sallows, but imagine seeing in Season 5 at St Mungo's, a picture of Anne Sallow, a young witch who was one of the first breakout cases for curse cures, or a Sebastian Sallow on a list of past Hogwarts teachers. I know non-Hogwarts Legacy players may not be impressed by the game being tied into the TV show, but I feel strongly that the TV show will bring us much more content and closure.

#Harry Potter #Hogwarts legacy #Harry Potter TV show #Ominis Gaunt #The House of Gaunt #House of Gaunt #Gaunt family #Marvolo Gaunt #Yes im back on my Gaunt thing again #Sebastian Sallow #Anne Sallow #HPTV

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skateordiebitch · 3 days ago

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HIT ME UP || D.F. x reader

‘and i'll waste my time if you pursue me, i'll let you know, if you ever hit me up'

summary: dominic fike, the one night stand who won't go away.

and i’ll eat up dominic being the biggest yearner everytime!!! i love writing him as someone who’s just head over heels😭 also can we talk abt how hot he looks in these photos? GOOD LORD. PLEASE JUST ONE NIGHT.

anyways enjoy! requests are open too <3

The bar was loud, packed with people, but somehow you managed to carve out a little oasis at the corner, clutching your drink and scrolling mindlessly through your phone.

It was one of those nights you weren’t even sure why you were out; you just knew you didn’t want to be home.

Your friend had bailed on you last minute, but the lure of a Friday night was still enough to get you out the door and into the smoky, neon-lit crowd.

That’s when he caught your eye.

Not intentionally—just a glint of movement in your peripheral, followed by a cocky grin aimed at anyone and everyone in his path.

This guy was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark eyes and that kind of look that screamed trouble.

His confidence was unmistakable, bordering on the absurd, as if he was used to people looking at him, fawning over him. You rolled your eyes at the mere sight.

It wasn’t long before he zeroed in on you, and despite the fact that you were clearly uninterested, he strutted over, a grin on his face like he’d already won you over.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the bar beside you. His voice was low, smooth, a little too self-assured for your taste.

“Hi,” you replied, barely looking up, hoping your tone would convey your lack of interest.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Bad night or something?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You raised an eyebrow, finally meeting his gaze. “And you’re assuming that, why?”

He laughed, a deep, easy sound. “Just a hunch. You don’t exactly look thrilled to be here. This a party, if you couldn’t tell. Where you’re supposed to be having fun.”

You shrugged, tilting your glass in his direction. “Maybe I’m just avoiding guys like you.”

He let out another chuckle, clearly enjoying the challenge. “Ouch. So, I’m already a ‘type,’ huh?”

You gave him a once-over, taking in his relaxed posture, the way his eyes sparkled with barely-hidden mischief.

“You look like you know your way around this place,” you quipped. “Or at least like you think everyone else here should.”

“Guilty,” he said, unfazed. “But I have to say, you seem different from everyone else here.”

“Oh really? And what makes you think that?”

“Well, for one, you’re talking to me, but you haven’t batted an eyelash since I walked up,” he said, flashing a grin. “Most people here usually fawn over me, at least a little bit.”

You smirked, unimpressed. “Maybe I just have high standards.”

His grin widened, intrigued. “Good. I like a challenge.”

You sipped your drink, meeting his gaze over the rim of your glass. “So, does the mysterious charmer have a name?”

“Dominic,” he replied smoothly, extending a hand. “And you?”

You paused, weighing whether to indulge him. Something about the sparkle in his eye, the cockiness tempered by an unexpected warmth, had you curious despite yourself.

“Nice to meet you, Dominic,” you said, finally shaking his hand, “I’m Y/N.”

“Beautiful,” he replied, holding onto your hand a beat longer than necessary. “So, tell me, Y/N. What brings you out tonight?”

You shrugged. “I guess I felt like a drink. Or an excuse not to be home.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, interest glinting in his eyes. “Mysterious and straightforward. I like it.”

You rolled your eyes, amused despite yourself. “I get the feeling you say that to everyone, Dominic.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, leaning in with a sly smile, “but I mean it more this time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he said, mimicking your shrug, a playful gleam in his eye. “But I’d argue I’m a good time… Care to find out?”

Against your better judgment—and perhaps the unexpected thrill of being genuinely intrigued—you left the bar with him, his arm around your shoulders as he steered you out into the cool night air.

You walked through the streets, your voices carrying in the quiet night, the conversation flowing easily. You found yourself laughing at his witty quips, surprised by how disarmingly charming he could be without even trying.

“Are you always this confident?” you asked as you strolled along, barely aware of where you were going.

Dominic chuckled, flashing you a sideways grin. “I don’t know. Are you always this skeptical?”

“Touché,” you replied, nudging him with your elbow. “But yeah. Actually, I am.”

“Fair enough. I like a girl who keeps me on my toes.” He paused, glancing over at you with a sly smile. “But don’t worry. I’m not one to back down from a challenge.”

Maybe it was the way he looked at you, as if he were genuinely intrigued by the fact that you hadn’t fallen at his feet like everyone else.

The night spiraled from there.

You didn’t know exactly what happened—there were blurry memories of shared laughs, whispered secrets, a lot of eye contact, and even more drinks.

The next thing you knew, you were back at your place, barely registering how late it was.

As you stepped into the elevator to head up to your place, a tension settled between you both, charged and unspoken. You could feel his eyes on you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he was daring you to break the silence.

The moment the elevator doors opened on your floor, you felt his hand graze yours, sending a flicker of warmth up your arm. The two of you walked side by side down the dimly lit hallway, each step closer to what you couldn’t deny you both wanted.

When you finally reached your door, you fumbled with your keys, suddenly hyper-aware of every second that ticked by.

“Need some help there?” he asked, his voice a low murmur behind you.

You shot him a sideways glance. “Only if you’re as good with all these locks as you are with lines.”

He let out a soft chuckle, stepping close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the intoxicating scent of his cologne filling the space around you.

With a deep breath, you finally managed to get the door open, stepping inside with Dominic following, his hand brushing yours as he closed the door behind him.

“Nice place,” he remarked, glancing around, but his eyes quickly settled back on you. “Though I have to say, I was mostly interested in the company.”

You rolled your eyes, though a grin betrayed you. “If I wanted flattery, I’d have stayed at the bar.”

“Good thing you didn’t,” he replied, stepping closer, his gaze now locked on yours.

There was a pause, the air between you thick with something you couldn’t ignore. And then, as if by some silent agreement, he reached out, his fingers brushing the side of your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you held his gaze, refusing to let him see you flinch. He seemed to appreciate it, his smile turning softer, almost reverent. And then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips barely grazing yours, teasing, as if waiting for you to close the gap.

You did.

The kiss started soft, but quickly deepened, his hands finding your waist, pulling you against him. You could feel the strength in his arms, the urgency in the way his fingers pressed into your back, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

His mouth was warm and inviting, tasting faintly of whiskey and something inherently him.

Each touch, each kiss, felt like it was stripping away the layers you kept up, the armor you wore around people like him.

Without breaking the kiss, you backed toward the couch, your fingers tugging at his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders. He let it fall to the floor without a second thought, his focus completely on you as he guided you down onto the cushions, settling beside you with a grin that was half amusement, half something darker, more intense.

“Comfortable?” he murmured against your lips, his hands wandering over your sides, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Depends,” you shot back, your voice barely a whisper. “Are you going to keep talking?”

He let out a laugh, low and husky, his breath warm against your skin. “Fair enough. I’ll let my actions speak louder, then.”

With that, his hands moved with a practiced ease, gliding over your skin, finding ways to make you gasp and forget any lingering doubts you had. For once, it was easy to be completely in the moment, to let yourself get lost in the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch, where to kiss, it was like he knew your body before even seeing it.

You felt your heart pounding as his hands traced along your skin, each touch lighting a fire that was hard to ignore.

As you lay back, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, his weight grounding you in a way that felt unexpectedly intimate, like he was somehow peeling away your defenses, bit by bit, with each kiss, each brush of his fingertips.

His lips traveled from your mouth to your jaw, down to your collarbone, lingering in ways that left you breathless. There was something different about the way he moved, a gentleness mixed with unspoken intensity, like he was savoring every moment, every inch of skin he touched.

“You’re good at this,” you whispered, unable to stop yourself, though you half-expected him to respond with another cocky remark.

Instead, he looked up at you, eyes filled with a warmth you hadn’t expected.

He stayed silent. He only gave you a soft smile, his lips tracing your jaw as he spoke, his words melting into your skin.

The night unfolded in ways that left you surprised and, admittedly, a bit vulnerable.

His hands and mouth moved in sync, guiding you both through a rhythm that felt almost surreal. And, between the breaths and stolen glances, there was a tenderness—a softness—that you hadn’t anticipated. It felt more like slow unraveling than a quick spark; each moment, each touch, felt deliberate, as though he was trying to memorize you in some quiet way.

At some point, you’d shifted, trading the couch for your bed, the journey between blurring in a haze of laughter and kisses that grew more urgent, more intense, with each passing moment. His words were soft, with a hint of challenge, and in that moment.

Eventually, after what felt like both hours and seconds, you lay side by side, his arm draped around your shoulders, your head resting on his chest.

The two of you were quiet, your breathing still a little heavy, but your hearts were slowing to a steady rhythm. You found yourself tracing gentle lines along his arm, your mind still reeling from the night’s unexpected intimacy. You couldn’t quite remember the last time someone had left you feeling so alive, so out of control yet comfortable.

Finally, as you lay tangled together, the early morning light beginning to creep in through the window, you found yourself smiling despite yourself.

He was lying beside you, his arm draped over your waist, his eyes half-closed but alert, watching you with that same mischievous glint.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep, “I have to say, you were worth the chase.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you stretched out beside him. “You make it sound like I was a conquest.”

He shrugged, giving you a lazy grin. “Only because you put up a good fight.”

“Hmm,” you replied, stifling a smile. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m not exactly looking for a repeat performance.”

He smirked, his fingers tracing idle circles on your shoulder. “Who said anything about repeats? Besides, I have a feeling you’ll change your mind.”

You let out a scoff, but his confidence—however misplaced—was weirdly endearing. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Guess we’ll see,” he said with a wink, leaning over to give you one last kiss before slipping out of bed.

And sure, it was good—he was cocky for a reason, apparently—but as soon as the sun started peeking through your blinds, you felt the sting of regret and a slight headache creeping in.

—

The next morning hit you like a freight train. You rolled over, remembering that he left before you even fell asleep. Perfect. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, thinking how that was probably the last you’d see of Dominic.

That is, until you looked over at your nightstand.

“Of fucking course,” you mumbled to yourself, staring at his wallet.

It was lying on your nightstand, his name in embossed letters on the black leather, practically taunting you. You sighed. Of course, he’d be the kind of guy to leave something behind.

He’d left a piece of himself behind, almost as if he’d known you’d want—or need—a reason to call him again.

Gritting your teeth, you picked up the wallet, rifling through the cards inside. There was an obnoxious number of credit cards, a couple of VIP passes to places you’d never heard of, and an California licenses with an all-too-familiar face staring back at you.

Dominic Fike.

You do a little more deep diving into the man who was in your bed all night— Seriously? you thought, staring at his face on the card. This guy is famous?

His face, his music, his relationships, personal drama—all of it filled pages and pages of search results. Tabs upon tabs of articles, concert photos, and screaming fans filled your screen, confirming what you’d already suspected.

You had a one night stand with a literal celebrity—and had no idea.

Annoyed and a little embarrassed, you tapped on the number he’d saved in your phone the night before, dialing him with a deep sigh.

He picked up on the second ring, his voice smooth and somehow infuriatingly amused. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”

“Not exactly,” you said, already irritated. “You left your wallet.”

He chuckled. “Did I now? Look at that. What a coincidence!”

You narrowed your eyes, though he couldn’t see it. “Yes. Would you like it back, or should I just keep it as a very expensive souvenir? Something to remember you by?”

“Alright, alright,” he said, still laughing. “I’ll swing by in like, twenty. Wouldn’t want you holding it hostage or anything.”

You barely had time to regret your decision before he arrived, grinning like he’d won some kind of prize as you opened the door.

“Well, well,” he said, looking at you up and down, clearly amused by your less-than-enthused expression. “I knew you’d call.”

You held his wallet out at arm’s length, not letting him get too close. “Here.”

But Dominic, of course, was not the kind of guy to make anything easy.

He took the wallet, but instead of leaving, he walked right into your apartment, looking around like he was touring a museum.

“You have a cute place,” he remarked, sinking down onto your couch without waiting for an invitation.

“Thanks. Maybe, I’ll see you around,” you replied, crossing your arms, nodding towards the door.

“Oh, come on,” he said, flashing that aggravatingly charming smile. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”

“Guest? You’re barely an acquaintance,” you scoffed, leaning against the wall with a look of utter disbelief. “You could’ve told me you were like, famous, by the way,” you said, still crossing your arms.

He shrugged, leaning back as he flashed a smirk. “And miss out on the chance to see your genuine reaction? No way.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is everything a game to you?”

“Only the fun things,” he replied, watching you with a spark of amusement. “Come on, admit it. You’re glad you didn’t know.”

You exhaled, fighting a smile. “Maybe a little.”

“You definitely would’ve have invited me over if you knew. You definitely wouldn’t have been screaming my name—”

“Dominic!” You exclaim, not wanting to recall any of last night.

“Geez, Y/N! There you go again,” Dominic laughs, “Should we just hit the bed now or something?”

You groan loudly, not even connecting your response before speaking, “No… No!” You say, “That’s not what I meant. Be serious. Can you last longer than a minute? Or is that impossible?”

“Oh, you know I can last longer than a minute.”

You plop down on the couch, giving up when you realized that you were practically writing his remarks yourself.

But, Dominic’s gaze softened, as if he saw through the veneer of irritation you were putting up. “Well, in all seriousness, most people don’t look at me like you did last night.”

“Disappointed?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he replied, a bit more serious this time. “Like I was just some guy at the bar.” He smiled, something genuine glinting through the playful mask. “It was nice.”

There was a beat of silence, an unspoken understanding that lingered in the air. But then, with a smirk, he broke the moment. “Besides, I wasn’t ready for our little game to end.”

“Oh, and what game is that?” you asked, fighting the slight flutter in your chest.

He grinned, standing up as he approached you. “You, trying to resist me. And me, making sure you fail.”

Something shifted in his expression—maybe it was the challenge, maybe it was just your indifference. But whatever it was, he clearly wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

“I won’t fail,” You say, probably in the most confident tone he’s heard you, “I know how to protect my peace.”

The next hour passed in a bizarre back-and-forth as he casually overstayed his welcome, making himself at home while you threw every jab and sarcastic remark you could think of his way.

You half-expected him to get fed up and leave, but instead, he only seemed more amused.

Every time you shot him down, he came back with a quip, grinning as if he were winning some game only he understood.

It was infuriating. But it was also… a little fun.

Against all reason, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, even as you rolled your eyes at his bravado. There was something oddly compelling about his relentless charm, even though he was the exact type of person you couldn’t stand.

By the time he finally left, you were exhausted—annoyed, sure, but also strangely energized, like you’d just run a marathon you hadn’t expected to enjoy.

As you watched him go, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—you hadn’t seen the last of him. And part of you, despite everything, didn’t entirely mind that idea.

—

The day after Dominic’s unexpected reappearance, things settled back into their normal, peaceful state. You returned to your regular life, or at least tried to, even though your mind kept drifting back to the chaotic encounter that morning.

It was supposed to have ended after one night, but there he was, strolling back into your life as if he had never left.

A few days passed without incident, and you almost convinced yourself it was over—until you spotted him again, completely by chance.

You were waiting for a coffee at the counter of your favorite café, scrolling through your phone, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Let me guess—no idea who I am?”

You turned, and there he was, looking as smug as ever, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He looked both out of place and totally in his element among the crowd of early-morning patrons.

“Hey, stranger,” Dominic says with a cheeky smile.

You raised an eyebrow, half amused, half exasperated. “Are you stalking me, or do you actually have a purpose here?”

He grinned, shrugging. “Coincidence, I mean, you’re at a very popular spot, you know. Or fate, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“You wish,” you muttered under your breath, though you couldn’t keep the small smile off your face. You gestured at the counter. “Coffee first. Then you can do your charm routine.”

He chuckled, sliding in beside you as you placed your order.

There was a comfortable silence as you waited, but it was laced with an electric energy that made you all too aware of him standing there, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

As you turned to pay, you noticed him handing over a bill, waving you off. “My treat,” he said, his tone casual.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m capable of buying my own coffee.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning in with that infuriating grin. “Consider it my way of saying thanks for not selling my wallet on eBay.”

“Very funny,” you replied, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck as he continued to look at you with that playful spark in his eye.

You both took your coffees and walked toward a table in the corner, where he slid into a seat across from you, leaning back in a way that was far too comfortable.

You took a sip, studying him over the rim of your cup. “So, why are you here? Couldn’t resist a second dose of my sparkling personality?”

“Not exactly,” he replied smoothly, a little too quickly. He paused, his eyes catching yours with a hint of something serious beneath his usual carefree demeanor. “Actually... I was curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“About you,” he said, and for the first time, there was a flicker of sincerity in his gaze, as though he was trying to get past your defenses. “I meet a lot of people. But it’s refreshing to find someone who looks at me like... well, like I’m just some guy they met at a bar.”

You leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Hate to break it to you, but you are just some guy I met at a bar.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You know, that’s what I’m talking about. Most people that see me in a bar, wouldn’t say that.”

You took another sip of coffee, letting the silence settle, wondering where this was going. Finally, you set your cup down, crossing your arms. “So, what exactly do you want from me, Dominic?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe... I just wanted to get to know you.”

You studied him, searching for any trace of a joke or a punchline, but his expression remained open, almost vulnerable.

Against your better judgment, you felt yourself softening, intrigued despite yourself. You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

He grinned, looking relieved and a bit triumphant. “Alright, let’s start simple. What do you do?”

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “Oh, I thought you were a fan of the ‘mysterious stranger’ vibe.”

“Consider it character development,” he said with a wink, but you could tell he was genuinely curious.

“I’m in marketing,” you said finally, “for a non-profit.”

His eyes lit up, and he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand in a playful imitation of your posture. “Wow. Look at you, making the world a better place. And here I thought you were just another mysterious stranger.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his playful tone. “Yeah, well, not everyone spends their days living like a rockstar.”

“Ah, so you do know who I am.” He pointed a finger at you in mock accusation, but his grin was warm.

“Barely,” you replied, holding his gaze. “Not a fan, if I’m honest. It’s just not my type of music.”

That seemed to amuse him even more, and he laughed, shaking his head. “Ouch. Wounded.”

“Hey, just keeping it real.” You took another sip of your coffee, realizing that, despite yourself, you were starting to enjoy this.

“So… what’s your favorite type of music?” Dominic asks, as you chuckle, “What, you wanna write a song about me or something?”

“Who says I haven’t already?”

You could feel the heat creep towards your cheeks, and you bet that he saw it, too, “My music taste is kind of all over the place. I’m really into rock music, like 90s rock. Blink-182. Red Hot Chili Peppers.”

You see Dominic’s face light up with a joy you haven’t quite seen from him before, “You do know like, all of my music is inspired by that, right? Those are some of my favorite bands.”

You shake your head, “You’re just saying that.”

He holds up his left hand, and you realize it’s John Frusciante; The guitarest of said band. Of course, is it.. “Am I, now?”

You stared at his hand, taking in the tattoo of Frusciante’s face, a bit faded from time, yet still unremarkably impressive. Your jaw dropped. “Okay, maybe… I believe you now.”

Dominic grinned, pleased with himself. “Told you.” He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

You shook your head, amused and slightly exasperated. “So, you're telling me that your whole ‘cool guy who doesn’t care’ vibe is just you trying to live out your childhood rockstar fantasy?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe. What can I say? I like to lean into it.” He paused, watching you closely, his smile softening a little. “But you know, it’s not just for show. I’m not playing a part for anyone. It’s who I am.”

You narrowed your eyes, intrigued despite yourself. There was a moment of quiet between you two, but it wasn’t awkward.

It was the kind of silence that existed between two people who were really starting to connect.

"Okay, then," you said, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow. "If you’re so real, then how about you prove it?"

His eyes glinted. "Prove it how?"

You shrugged, sipping your coffee. "Let’s see if you can keep up with me outside the ‘rockstar’ image. Ditch the cocky lines for a minute. Show me the real you.”

Dominic didn’t hesitate. He leaned in closer, his voice low. “You wanna see the real me, huh? Alright. I’ll play along."

You had to fight to keep from grinning, but something in the air shifted.

The banter was still there, but it felt less like a game now and more like two people actually trying to understand each other.

“I’m not here for a show,” you said, your tone steady. “Just, you know… a genuine conversation. No flash, no pretense.”

Dominic watched you carefully, his gaze softer now, but there was still a glimmer of that cocky charm.

“I think I can do that. But fair warning,” he said with a grin, “I’m not sure how good I am at keeping the ‘real me’ in check for too long.”

You smirked, eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

The two of you continued to talk, the conversation slipping into more personal territory as you discovered more about each other.

Dominic opened up in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing bits and pieces about his life, his rise to fame, his time in jail, the constant pressure, and the sacrifices.

And as much as you were tempted to tease him, you found yourself listening—really listening.

He, on the other hand, seemed fascinated by you in a way that made you almost uncomfortable. The way he’d pause, studying your expressions, as though trying to figure you out, kept you on your toes.

“So you really don’t care about all the ‘fame’ stuff?” You asked after a long stretch of conversation.

“Not really,” He replied. “I think it’s just... a distraction. People focus so much on what you do, not who you are.” He shrugged. “It’s easy to get lost in that. I, obviously, get lost in it sometimes.”

“Yeah, trust me, I can tell… But, I also get that. I really couldn’t imagine having fans, or followers, or any of that bullshit,” You say, watching him run a hand through his hair, staring down into his coffee.

“It’s kind of like, I’m good at being who people expect me to be. But sometimes... I forget what it’s like to just be me, you know?”

You nodded, sensing the vulnerability in his words despite his usual bravado. “I get it,” you said softly, “You wanna be normal guy sometimes.”

Dominic looked up at you then, and for a moment, it wasn’t the cocky, charming rockstar sitting across from you.

It was just Dominic.

The man with flaws, with dreams, with struggles. The man who, despite everything, was still trying to figure it out.

“And what about you?” he asked, voice quieter now. “What’s your real ‘you’ like?”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. You had a tendency to keep your guard up, to keep people at arm’s length. But for some reason, something about Dominic made you feel like it was okay to let that wall slip—just a little.

“Me?” You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I’m just trying to make a difference. To not get too lost in all the noise. I want to do something that actually matters.”

Dominic watched you with quiet intensity, as if he could see through the surface-level responses, reading between the lines. “And you think you can do that?” he asked, his voice serious now.

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure yourself. “I don’t know. But I have to at least try.”

He sat back, taking that in. His eyes softened again, and for a fleeting moment, he looked like a man who wasn’t concerned with the world’s expectations or how many fans were waiting for him outside.

It was just him and you.

And in that moment, you could tell he wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

The tension between you shifted, growing more comfortable, more familiar. There was still a playful spark in his eyes, but now, there was also a sincerity that wasn’t there before.

“I’ll be honest,” he said, leaning in just slightly. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a line I’m sure you use on a lot of people.”

He shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “No, really. You’re different. And I’m not talking about your, uh, lack of ‘fan-girling’ over me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Just a little,” he teased. “But it’s cool. It makes you way more interesting.”

“Glad to know I’m not just another fan to you.”

Dominic leaned back, his expression turning thoughtful. “Yeah. You’re not. You’re someone I’m actually starting to care about. And for the record...” he added with a grin, “I think I’m getting pretty good at this ‘real me’ thing.”

“Better keep it up,” you teased, trying to hide the soft flutter in your chest. “Because I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”

He leaned in a little closer, voice barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

And there it was again—the chemistry.

The spark that had been there from the start, now igniting with a slow burn. You didn’t know where it was going, but you knew this conversation, this connection—it wasn’t something you could ignore. Not anymore.

As you finished your coffee, you both lingered, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. Neither of you seemed in a rush to break the moment.

Maybe this was the start of something unexpected. Something that neither of you had planned—but both of you might just need.

You spent another hour talking, exchanging stories and teasing banter.

He was funny, charming, and surprisingly down-to-earth when he wanted to be.

For someone so confident, he had a certain openness that was hard to ignore, and despite your initial annoyance, you found yourself drawn to him.

By the time you left, you almost didn’t mind when he suggested meeting up again.

“Alright,” he said as he walked you to the door. “How about a deal? You let me take you out again, and I promise I’ll try my best to keep my rockstar tendencies in check.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Why do I feel like that’s a promise you can’t keep?”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

And before you could think of a clever comeback, he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. The warmth of his lips made your heart skip a beat, and as he pulled away, he looked at you with a quiet intensity that made it hard to breathe.

“See you soon, then?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to find the words, and as he walked away, you realized that, despite everything, a part of you was already looking forward to it.

—

The days that followed Dominic’s confession were full of anticipation, but also of hesitation. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of something, something you couldn’t quite define.

Every time you saw him, every time he looked at you like he was seeing the real you, you felt your resolve weakening.

It was confusing—after all, you’d spent so long keeping people at a distance, convincing yourself that you didn’t need anyone, that you were fine on your own.

But Dominic… he had a way of breaking through that wall, bit by bit, in a way that scared you and exhilarated you at the same time.

You spent the next few days trying to focus on your routine, but it felt impossible. Every small thing, like the sound of your phone buzzing or catching a glimpse of a song you both liked, reminded you of him.

But you weren’t sure if you were ready to dive into whatever this was between you. It was so new, so unexpected, and you didn’t want to risk getting hurt.

But then, just as you were trying to push those thoughts away, the text came.

"Hey, what’s up? Want to grab some dinner tonight?"

It was casual, like everything between you had always been. But beneath the surface, you could feel the weight of what had been said the night before. You hesitated for only a second before responding.

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

A few minutes later, he sent a suggestion, and you agreed.

There was something about the way he made everything feel easy—like there was no pressure, no expectations, just the two of you figuring it out together.

When you met him at the restaurant that evening, it was almost like nothing had changed.

You greeted each other with that familiar teasing banter, a lightheartedness that had become the foundation of your interactions. But this time, there was a quiet undertone to the conversation, something deeper.

It felt like you were both waiting for the right moment to say something more, something real.

As the meal wore on, you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected.

Talking about your dreams, your fears, your past—things you usually kept buried beneath the surface.

And Dominic, as always, listened.

But this time, he didn’t just nod along or offer some flippant remark. He responded with sincerity, sharing his own struggles and insecurities, the parts of himself that were rarely seen by the public.

For the first time, you began to understand the weight of his life—the constant scrutiny, the expectations, the pressure to always be someone he wasn’t. And you could see the toll it had taken on him, the way he tried to push it all away with jokes and arrogance, but there was a tenderness beneath the bravado.

A part of him that was tired of playing the part.

After dinner, as you walked out of the restaurant, Dominic turned to you, his expression thoughtful.

“Do you ever wonder if we’re just two people who are too afraid to let ourselves get close?” he asked, his voice quiet but serious.

You stopped walking, looking at him. His words hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. You knew you’d been keeping your distance, but you hadn’t realized how much he had been holding back too.

“I don’t know,” you said after a pause. “I think we’re both scared of what could happen if we let ourselves feel too much.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah. I get that. But maybe… maybe we’re both ready to stop pretending, even if we don’t have it all figured out yet.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words sink in. Could you really let yourself be vulnerable like this? Could you trust him enough to let your guard down?

Before you could respond, he took a step closer, his hand brushing against yours. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a promise. Like he was saying, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.

For a moment, everything else faded away.

The noise of the world, the uncertainty, the fears you had about being hurt—it all melted into the background. You didn’t need to have all the answers. All you needed was to be in this moment with him.

You finally spoke, your voice soft but steady. “I think… I think I’m ready. But you have to promise me something.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“That you won’t disappear on me. That you won’t make this about your fame or your image. I need to know that the real you is what I’m getting.”

His expression softened, and for the first time, you saw the full depth of his sincerity. “I promise,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “The real me, that’s what I’m offering. No pretenses. No games.”

The promise hung in the air between you, and in that moment, you believed him. You didn’t know where this would lead, but you knew you couldn’t keep running from it. The connection you shared was too strong to ignore, too real to pretend it wasn’t happening.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of laughter, late-night conversations, and moments of intimacy that felt genuine and raw.

There were still moments of uncertainty, moments where you questioned whether you were making the right choice, but every time Dominic showed up, every time he made you feel seen and heard, you couldn’t help but believe in it a little more.

You still held onto your independence, still made sure to focus on your work and your own dreams, but something in you had shifted. You were allowing yourself to let him in, to trust him in a way you hadn’t thought possible.

One evening, as you were walking together through the city streets after another spontaneous dinner, Dominic stopped in front of you, his face serious. You turned to him, your heart racing.

“I know we’ve been taking this slow,” he began, his voice quiet, but full of conviction. “But I need you to know that I’m all in. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had always feared that this would be a fleeting moment in time—something that would fizzle out as quickly as it had ignited.

But Dominic’s words, the sincerity in his eyes, made you believe that this was something worth holding onto.

“I’m in too,” you said, the words coming easier than you had expected. “I don’t know where this is going, but I want to see it through.”

Dominic smiled, and for the first time, there was no uncertainty in his expression. No bravado. Just a man, standing before you, with his heart on his sleeve.

“Then let’s see where this takes us,” he said, his voice low and full of promise.

And with that, the uncertainty between you began to fade. The connection you had was real, and though the road ahead might be unpredictable, you knew that, together, you could face whatever came next.

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