#i don't mind getting messages in polish

[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- The Reveal

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N gets rejected for the sixth time. Max win's the Monaco grand prix 2023. Y/N decides she needs time for herself.

No hate to anyone, it's for the story

{Reader's POV}

I fell asleep crying, a faint buzzing from my phone was heard from the other room. I woke up after a few hours at 3 am when I found my phone which was burning up. The messages hadn't stop coming. They had gotten quite frantic as I scrolled through my notifications. I decided to reply to Max's messages.

He was still the guy I liked, I couldn't not reply. But I was hurt and in no shape to be talking to him. I don't know what Max said after my message because my phone shut down. I pushed myself to clean myself up and my surrounding. I was a stress cleaner and I'm so grateful to having 2 jobs right now. It meant my mind would be preoccupied. I cleaned my whole house before leaving for school in the morning. My eyes were red and puffy; I was on coffee. I had yet to switch my phone on. I wasn't ready to face Max yet.

Today was the worst day, not only because of last night's revelation but I had the least amount of classes today. None of the kids needed help after class either. That meant I was left to my own devices. When I switched the phone on, I could see missed calls and texts from Max and a couple voice messages; from the night before and today morning I guess. I opened up Google to check his schedule; he was in Monaco, which was also his home currently. I found out a lot about him, you think you know someone but then Google tells you otherwise. His dad was as shitty as he described. His records and feats were astonishing and if I wasn't this angry at him for hiding it from me, I would've been so proud and told him so. His Instagram feed was pretty and polished and he posted so much racing content. I found his streaming account with a team, he was exactly like the Max that called me everyday with occasional appearances from the cats on stream. People spoke so rudely about Max, it angered me to no end. He was a kind man, a liar but a sweet man.

The real kicker was Max's girlfriend's account where I found so many pictures of them together with her daughter, from what I found out. He looked happy, he had a family like he always said he wanted. I couldn't help but smile bitterly, a part of me wished that it was me who was the woman beside him with our kid. Life is cruel in some ways, mine is satire at best. Here, I can't date a man because I'm hung up on a guy I've never met before while said man has a family. I felt tears streaming down my face which I quickly wiped them off. I had enough of pity and sympathy stares since the morning to last a lifetime, I can't deal with any more of them.

I knew I wanted to talk to Max, the only guy who has ever understood me, however, I also knew that if we spoke I wouldn't be listening to him. I was scared I would lose the one true friend I have. Would Max understand where I was coming from? Why did he hide this from me? Did he not trust me enough? I get it, but you are a public figure. I don't know how to feel about all of this. It was the weekend tomorrow. I would be left with my thoughts and I probably shouldn't confront Max before his race on Sunday, right?

I spent the next two days planning how I would talk to Max. How I would ask him why he hid everything from me? I didn't want to fight him; my parents always said I was rude and difficult to work with, that my anger consumed me, that my words were harsh. I wasn't supposed to show such negative emotions they said. I didn't want to lose him; but was I allowed to hold on to him when he never let me have him?

Max called and texted me every day but I was very scared, scared of becoming the monster my parents said I was, sacred of hurting the one I love. There I said it, said Max and love in the same sentence. I had threaded that line so carefully but after all of this, I realised that I've loved him for years and watching him be happy with some else hurt as much as knowing that I never truly knew Max. It was Sunday night, I checked the news and saw that Max won. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to rejoice watching the man I love win at what he was best at or be hurt watching him live a life I knew nothing about.

I texted him at night on Sunday, maybe he would be busy celebrating his win, I didn't know. I didn't know a lot of things. As I waited for the text back, I logged on to my emails that I had forgotten about to find a reply from the publication I had sent my work to; to be met with dismay. Another rejection, I'm not sure how many more rejections I could take. My hands shook, making the laptop fall from my lap onto the bed. I got up and got myself a glass of water.

I laid on my bed for god knows how long before the familiar ring of my phone pulled me out of my trance. I had taken the day off tomorrow. I knew I didn't have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with anything. I answered the call to a worried Max.

Max- Schat, how have you been? Haven't heard a word from you in days. Y/N- I've been busy, school year ending and stuff. Why didn't you sleep yet? Max- You know my sleep schedule is non existent. Y/N- Yeah, I guess I do. Max looked at me confused. Y/N- You know how I do freelance editing Max- You've told me about it Y/N- The latest author I'm working with is a sports author. I was hoping you could help me since you are a walking encycylopedia. Max- sure schat, but what's up with you? You know I'm always there for you Y/N- Yeah it nothing, just stressed. Max- Take off, you deserve it Y/N- The summer break is here soon, I'll be fine. So about that author... Max-Yeah, what sport does she write for? Y/N- Formula One. I don't really like reading lengthy articles and I'm sure one article wouldn't do a sport any justice. I could see the colour leave Max's face. He licked his lips before speaking. Max- You did not go through google yet, right? Y/N- Oh no, what do you take me for? I got excited to learn about something new. Do you know who the reigning champion is? Max was quite, a sort of uncomfortable silence had enveloped us, for the first time in 10 years. Y/N- Some dude named Max Verstappen. You guys share the same first name. He has 2 cats too; named Jimmy and Sassy, who look exactly like your bengals. I mean he even looks like you, with horrible sleep schedule just like you. He even sounds like you. I felt my voice begin to crack while I spoke, the lump in my throat unbearably big, my breathing was uneven. Max- Schatje, I can explain. Y/N- You don't have to Max. I never asked you what you did. You don't have to explain anything. (I smiled with only my lips) Max- I wanted to tell you, it just never came up in conversation. Y/N- I get it, it's difficult to tell your friend who has amounted to nothing that you are the World Driver's Champion, best of the best in Formula One. Max- Y/N, it's nothing like that. You're great, you're kind, you're funny. I laughed bitterly. Y/N- Those are character traits I possess, they don't describe my career goals or achievements. I know I work 2 jobs to stay afloat while you make millions, I know I wish I was an author and not their editor, I know you probably thought I was too stupid to understand your rich and fancy world. Max- No, no, you're so talented. I've read your work and I'm sure the right publication will pick your work up. Y/N- I got rejected for the sixth time today. All of this is fine except that you lied to me about being single while having a girlfriend for years and having the happy family you dreamt off. You didn't have to introduce me to her; not like my boyfriends met you. But it would've been nice if I knew. Max- It just never came up. Y/N- I...we joked about setting you up with someone all the time. Please don't. I get it, we didn't tell each other about work goals or what we did as a job but personal life; I literally told you about every guy I've ever been with. I felt bad telling you thinking you were single. I feel stupid right now. I had tears streaming down my face at this point. Max- I'm sorry,Y/N. I promise I won't hide anything anymore. Please, don't cry. Y/N- My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I majored in literature in Uni and now work as a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I'm trying to get my book published soon. I broke up with my boyfriend 2 months ago. Max- Please don't do this. Y/N- I believe at least one of us should be honest. Max- Let me fix this. Y/N- Don't worry. There's nothing to fix. (I wiped away my tears) Max- Please don't say that. You mean a lot me. Y/N- Me too. That's why, I need time. I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Max- Please, I can't lose you. Y/N- You won't. I'll always be there for you. I just need time. Take care Max I saw tears streaming down Max's face. Max- Bye, take care Y/N. I'll always be here. And then the screen went black.

[Max spent the whole week worrying about Y/N. He couldn't think straight. This was weird, she was never this busy before. It was stressing him out, he couldn't eat or sleep. He never even thought about the fact that maybe his lie had been exposed. When Y/N texted him, he was at a club in Monaco with the other drivers to celebrate his win. He only saw it after he got back home and immediately called her. She looked different, there was this sadness in her eyes. The smile didn't reach her eyes. And then she started talking, his heart was beating very fast. The moment she said Formula One, his whole world came crashing down. The more she spoke the more he felt like he was falling deeper, in a pit of his own making. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to explain himself but no words left his mouth. Then she started talking about his girlfriend. He felt like this was the last time he would get to talk to her, the last time he would hear her voice. This felt like the last time he would have her]

[hiddenreamers]

F1 Drivers x foreign!reader

SUMMARY: When they know social norms and the local language, sometimes it might be hard to spot a foreigner. Even then, there are details to their daily life that might give away their heritage. Whether they're strange, funny or heartwarming, it doesn't really matter. Your boyfriend wouldn't have it any other way.

Featuring: Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, Daniel Ricciardo (it's my delulu I set the rules), Max Verstappen, Carlos Sainz Jr, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Oscar Piastri

Note: I'm a Polish gal, so the examples I've used are quite specific and probably not universal

Lando Norris

You're unsure if his terrible pronunciation is genuine or just a ploy to make you laugh. As time goes on, you're leaning towards the latter. The comedic timing of throwing out mispronounced random phrases and words is almost too perfect to be accidental. Considering the cultural differences, you have your quirks and superstitions that are largely funny and meaningless to him. Despite his lack of understanding, he adheres to them like the letter of the law (except speed limits, of course). While it might seem pointless to him that you have to knock on "something unpainted" after talking about misfortune, Lando will never make fun of you for it. He might laugh, yes, but he just finds those little rituals endearing. Secretly learns to say "I love you" in your first language but this time, he wants his pronunciation to be impeccable. He really means it, after all.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been showing genuine curiosity from the very beginning. While he wants to get to know you better as a person, he also wants to know more about your home. Consequently, Lewis jumps at any opportunity to travel with you to your native country. When you're pointing out different buildings as well as memories associated with them, he feels like he's getting a better understanding of who you are and why. Like Lando, he's mindful of the cultural quirks and sticks to them but doesn't find them as funny. While he's well aware you don't expect him to follow them, Lewis still refuses to kiss you over the threshold once you tell him it's said to bring bad luck. He's not going to risk it, is he?

Daniel Ricciardo

The ever-charming man is interested only in learning swear words and pick-up lines in your native language. Not very surprising. Even less surprising is the fact that you might have (on at least one occasion) taught him nonsense or a silly phrase while claiming it's something sexy or romantic. He is yet to be corrected that a certain phrase is not a heartfelt confession but a simple question of "Where is my sauerkraut?". There's something impossibly attractive about you speaking your mother tongue, according to Daniel. You could read aloud a random Wikipedia entry and he's down bad by the second verse.

Max Verstappen

Practical as always, Max has learnt to read your first language just to occasionally help. You're busy and someone is texting you? Maybe you forgot the next ingredient or step for the recipe but your hands are dirty? Max is there to help. Despite not much practice, his pronunciation is really good. He does, however, have a secret. All the random things he's been reading for you? They got him familiar with the language, at least the basics. Still, Max pretends that he doesn't understand 99% of what he's reading for you because he doesn't want to miss out on all the ego-stroking "Max is wonderful!!" messages you receive from friends and family. The king of keeping a straight face. He's so used to hearing you refer to him by pet names in another language that when he hears it in a movie you're watching, he instinctively looks towards you.

Carlos Sainz Jr

Similarly to Max, Carlos has picked up some of your mother tongue. Pretends he doesn't because he's living for the gossip you exchange with your friends. Most of all, he HAS to know what you're talking about after hearing you say his name. Are you happy with him? Does he fulfil your needs? Although each time you're gushing over him, he can't help his curiosity. Carlos might or might not have overheard you talking to your friends about a sexual fantasy and later on used that knowledge to his advantage. But if anyone asks, he doesn't know more than a "hello" in your first language.

Charles Leclerc

Like many multilingual people, you have a habit of directly translating sayings and idioms or just getting confused about which ones work in what language. Funnily enough, Charles unknowingly picked up some of the phrases you use. He realises only when someone gives him a strange look for saying "happy as a whistle". On another occasion he says somebody "stuck to him like thistle to a dog's tail", which sparked a landslide of memes. Charles insists on you calling him pet names in your first language exclusively. He claims they sound more loving when you say them in your mother tongue but maybe he's suffering from the same ailment as Daniel Ricciardo...

George Russell

As adorable as they are, George's random questions can get slightly annoying. He might be working you up on purpose, not that he'd ever admit. This man has a curious tendency to suddenly point to a random object and ask you what's it called in your native language. When you tell him, he exposes you to possibly the worst attempt at repeating the word. George is trying his best, okay? He might not be able to pronounce or write it but when you say it, he quickly learns to recognize the word. This has lead to seemingly strange situations when you can't remember the English expression and say it in your mother tongue, while George without a problem gives you the answer or passes you the item. Some of the other drivers are now convinced he knows your first language and George somehow can't find the right occasion to correct them. After secretly practising, he says "I love you" in your mother tongue and despite the rather awful pronunciation, it's the best thing you've ever heard. It's not flawless but it's perfect.

Oscar Piastri

Similarly to Lewis, he's genuinly curious about your homecountry. The difference is, Oscar is more leaning towards the literature and pop-culture side of things. He has a list of books, poems, movies and plays that are considered important to your homeland. If there are English translations, he'll at least try to read them (on a few occasions he's settled for the cheat sheets and summaries). Multiple times Oscar has talked you into reading the original to him and afterwards claimed that despite understanding nothing, that's his favourite version. Movies, however, he wants to watch with you. It's a cozy date, yes. But! It is also an opportunity to learn more as you have a tendency to pause the film and explain jokes, give broader context or share a fun fact about something on the screen. Through all of that, he learns certain unspoken social rules and superstitions. You tell him he really doesn't have to follow them for your sake when you notice he refuses to put your bag on the floor or switches seats with you if you sit at the corner of the table.

[sunsburns]

naked in manhattan

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader / implied art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you’re just hours away from a flight that will change your career forever—one that will take you to london, england, for the 2012 olympics, a milestone you never thought you’d reach. thrilled yet trembling with nerves, you find yourself at the hotel bar, celebrating alone. it does not help when you run into art donaldson and… his wife?

—or: you and tashi rekindle an old flame

word count: 6.9k

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, semi-public sex (a gym at the middle of the night so idk if that counts), mid-challengers movie (a year after the atlanta scene with tashi and patrick), angst with no comfort, fingering, homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, no use of y/n, old situationship best described in terms of “casual” by chappell roan (iykyk), art is lowkey a shit starter

author’s note: so i finished this a while back and added it to my queue and did not realize i put it for july instead of june so LOL MY BAD. this is kinda like a prequel to “good luck, babe!” but you don't need to read that to get this. alsoooo thank you for all the love and feedback in “good luck, babe!” i’ve read every single message and tried to reply to all of them! you guys are so sweet and inspired me to write more! thank you thank you <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

Manhattan, New York City, 2012

"I hope you're planning on getting laid tonight."

Your drink is cold, the ice cubes clinking against the glass as you swirl the straw absentmindedly. The dim lighting of the hotel bar casts a warm, golden glow over everything, making the polished wood of the bar counter gleam. Around you, the murmur of conversations, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clinking of glasses create a lively yet intimate ambiance. You glance at the TV mounted in the corner, where a muted sports channel displays highlights from a basketball game.

You try not to snort into your drink at the words of Patrick Zweig on the other end of the call. You push your phone closer to your ear, unable to bite back the grin spreading across your face.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"What?" Patrick's tone is mockingly innocent, full of playful mischief.

"I thought you called to say something a little more... I don't know, sincere? Heartwarming?"

He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh that you can practically feel through the phone. In the background, you hear the faint sounds of a city—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional bark of a dog. The noise fades slightly as Patrick likely moves to a quieter spot, and you can almost picture him getting in his car in some other state—you think he's in Arizona.

"The only kind of warming I wanna hear about is cockwarming," he retorts, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You make a face, "You're disgusting."

"I mean it," he insists, still laughing. "I'm actually so jealous of you right now. You qualified for the Olympics, for fuck's sake! How's your mom doing? Did she have a heart attack? Did she call you already? I hope she packed you some condoms. There's gonna be such a wide variety. Literally every country in the world."

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick."

Your mother did call, her voice crackling with emotion over the phone just before Patrick rang you. She told you how proud she is of you, how she can't wait to watch you play and tell everyone she knows that her daughter is an Olympic tennis player. A gold medalist, maybe.

Her words echo in your mind, filling you with a warmth that battles the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

You take a sip of your drink, savouring the blend of fruity and bitter flavours, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts. You try not to spill it on your Ralph Lauren sweater, custom-made, just for the Olympics, with your name stitched on the arm.

Around you, the hotel bar is alive with the buzz of other athletes celebrating with their teams. The fellowship is appreciable as laughter and cheers fill the air. But for some single athletes, like yourself, it's a different story. You feel as if you're in high school all over again, too awkward to make friends, hoping someone braver than you will come by and say hello first.

"You better not be sitting at the bar alone, drinking that orange juice you like."

"A sangria isn't just juice, you dick," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"You're such a loser."

You do feel a little bit like a loser, sitting alone at the bar, but you know you shouldn't. You're hours away from your flight to London where you'll have the chance to play tennis in the Olympics. This is all you've ever wanted since you were a child, all you've been working for—sweat, blood, and tears. You can't even remember a time when you've dreamt of something other than this.

Tennis has always been your escape, your sanctuary. You remember those early days when you played with second-hand rackets and makeshift nets, the local court becoming your second home.

And then there was Patrick, your closest… friend(?) and fiercest rival. His encouragement, his competition, and his company kept you grounded and motivated. When the going got tough, the dream felt too distant, and all of it made you feel far too guilty as if you had stolen someone else's life, Patrick was there to reassure you that you deserved it just as much as the next. Without him, you likely would have walked away from the sport you love.

"I can't believe you made it to the Olympics before me," Patrick's voice pulls you back to the present, a mix of envy and pride lacing his words. You can almost see the playful smirk on his face, a familiar expression that often surfaced during your countless matches together.

"I wish you were here, Pat." Your voice softens, the longing evident. It was hard to track down Patrick Zweig, especially while he was constantly on the move, hopping from state to state, playing as many challengers as he could sign up for, each match a stepping stone toward his dream of winning the US Open. And you think he will. You've played against him enough times to know he's better than you at hitting a ball with a racket.

There were nights when you'd both crash in a shabby motel or back at your place after a gruelling day on the court, strategizing and critiquing each other's play styles (sometimes in more than just tennis). His tenacity was a beacon for you, pushing you to strive harder and to reach further.

His voice softens, becoming more earnest. "Yeah, me too. I'll try to get tickets for one of your games in London. If not, I'll catch up with your mom and watch it with her. Is your dad still in the picture?"

You roll your eyes, a reflex to his familiar teasing. "Oh, my god."

"I'm just asking," he chuckles. "Listen, I'm gonna let you go, 'cause I've got a date tonight. But call me when you land."

"Oh, yeah, okay." You try not to let the disappointment seep into your voice, but it's hard. It's not like you and Patrick were together, at least not publicly, at least not in the sense that you couldn't see other people. But even as you tell yourself that, a knot tightens in your chest.

It feels a bit teenageish, you think, messing around with friends and acting like it means nothing just to avoid making things awkward. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were leaving something unsaid, something unacknowledged. Patrick was one of the few people in your life who kept you on your toes and made you feel good—truly good.

Now, the idea of him with someone else, going on dates while you chase your dreams, feels like a betrayal you can't quite articulate. But what right do you have to feel that way? You never made things official, never dared to cross that line.

You never bothered to search for love outside of tennis.

"Have fun on your date," you manage to say. It comes out more brittle than you'd hoped. "Talk to you later."

"Bye!" he says, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart. His voice is light and carefree, and why wouldn't it be?

You end the call and set your phone down on the bar with a bit more force than intended, the hollow thud echoing your frustration. The bartender glances your way and you try to flash him an honest smile before ordering another drink. The TV overhead flickers, switching from basketball highlights to a recap of the latest tennis matches. You watch the screen without really seeing it.

The bar is still lively, yet you feel an overwhelming sense of solitude. You can't help but feel like you're stuck in limbo—caught between your dreams and the reality of your personal life.

You take a deep breath and a long sip of the rest of your first drink, the cool liquid doing little to ease the heat of frustration building inside you. You tell yourself you should be happy, grateful even. But right now, all you can think about is Patrick, and how much easier it would be if he were here with you.

But he's not. And maybe he never will be.

Maybe no one will.

Maybe you will die alone, your tennis racket as your only companion.

"This seat taken?" A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts.

You turn, startled, "No-" you start, but then the blur of blonde hair comes to focus and you're stumbling over your words, "Art? What- what are you doing here?"

"Oh," he smiles, a shy faint red blush already growing on his pale skin. He sits beside you, almost hesitantly, "Just stopping by the city. I saw you and thought I'd say hi."

"Hi." You return his smile, albeit a bit warily.

It's been years since you last spoke to Art properly, though your paths have crossed a few times. You've seen him in magazines, TV, and brief passings usually at major tournaments—Wimbledon, the Australian Open, the US Open. Each time, there were shy smiles and waves from across the room, lingering eyes, and awkward conversations where mutual friends tried to reintroduce you as if you hadn't once known each other

Art looks different every time you see him. His hair, now a little shorter than you remember, still maintains that boyish shagginess. There's a darker tan on his skin, evidence of his time spent under the sun. Some days he has a brighter smile, other days, it's a smile that never reaches his eyes.

As he sits there, you can't help but think of how golden his hair used to look whenever he wore his old Stanford hat, the one he used to pull low over his eyes during your college days. The memory makes you aware that you're staring, maybe a little too long. But he's looking at you too, his blue eyes trailing from one end of your face to the other, as if trying to memorize it all, capturing a photograph of who you are now.

A warmth spreads through you under his gaze, and when he finally looks away, you turn too, tapping at your empty glass, pretending to seem interested in the way the ice has started to melt.

But your eyes betray you, slowly trailing back to him. You watch the way he sits, the way he calls over the bartender and orders himself a glass of water. You try not to notice the deep timbre his voice has gained over the years, and how it resonates in the noisy bar. He looks at you, then the empty seat on your other side, and finally scans the room anxiously, as if he's searching for someone or something.

"He's not here," you finally say, breaking the silence that has grown too heavy. "If that's what you're wondering."

He nods, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. "What city is he in now?"

"Vegas, I think."

He makes a face and rests his chin on his hand. "There's no challengers in Vegas this month."

"Then he's just visiting. I don't know." The truth is, you don't want to talk about Patrick right now. Especially not with Art. Not after the way they ended things. You watch Art shrug, and the bartender sets your drink in front of you. You take a grateful sip, savouring the blend of flavours. Art holds his glass carefully, and the two of you sit in strained silence for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

You can't help but ask, "What are you doing here? In Manhattan?"

"I have an interview tomorrow. For the New York Times," Art says, leaning back slightly. He seems a little surprised as if he expected you to sit there without acknowledging him for the whole night. It makes you wonder what he thinks of you. "They're doing a piece on my career, the highs, the lows... the beginning and stuff."

You study his face, trying to gauge his emotions. You know what it's like to be interviewed, to have a team of people making you look your best for photos and another team crafting answers to help you maintain your reputation. It’s exhausting and thrilling all at once. "Congrats, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you. If anything, I should be congratulating you. Olympics? That's huge..." He continues talking, his lips moving, but you’re barely registering the words. For the first time that night, he seems genuinely enthusiastic, a faint spark in his eyes as he talks about you, about London, gesturing with his hand in excitement.

That's when you notice it. The gold around his finger. It glimmers under the warm lights of the bar, catching your eye like a beacon. You can't stop staring at it even after he's done talking.

"Oh, yeah. It's great." The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. You struggle to find the right response, not wanting to be rude. "You're married?"

His face falls, and he looks down at his hand resting on his lap. "Oh, yeah, yeah. We, uh..." He scratches the back of his head, his eyes darting up to meet yours briefly before looking away. He seems nervous, like he's bracing for your reaction, worried to tell you, as if you weren’t supposed to know at all. "We got married last year. We kept pushing the date for a while because we were... we were busy... and stuff just kept getting in the way."

"We...?"

"Tashi."

"Tashi," you echo, the name tasting foreign and bitter on your tongue. "You're married? You married each other?"

He nods, "Yeah, we've been engaged for a few years now. You haven't heard?"

You feel a lump form in your throat. "No, uh. My coach tries to keep me away from certain news... my mom suggested it. So I don't get uh, distracted."

This is exactly the kind of situation your team has been trying to avoid.

The reality of his words sinks in, and you feel a sharp pang of something—loss, regret, maybe even jealousy. The air around you feels thicker and harder to breathe. Each word he says feels like another brick being laid on your chest, pressing down, making it harder to stay composed.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

You force a smile, but it's a fragile thing, threatening to shatter at any moment. "That's... that's great, Art. I'm happy for you. Really. How was... how was the wedding?" Your mind races with thoughts of broken promises and missed opportunities. You imagine Tashi in her wedding dress; you know she looked beautiful. The image stabs at you, and you wince.

"It was beautiful. Both our families came in, and we kept it traditional, in a church. It was..." He pauses, watching you before adding, "It was a small ceremony. Private. Just family."

His words twist the knife deeper. Tashi's family used to see you as such. "No, yeah, I get it. Wouldn't want any trouble at the wedding. I'm happy for you. I'm happy for the both of you." You turn to the bartender, desperate to keep your voice steady. "Hey, can I get another drink? Something stronger?"

Patrick was right; your stupid orange juice won't get you through the night.

Art watches you with concern, his brow furrowing. "How many of those have you had?"

You laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your ears. "Not enough."

"Does your coach know you're drinking?"

"Does yours know you're talking to me?"

Art leans back, his posture stiffening. He turns to his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass as he takes another sip. The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable. You watch as he processes your words, his expression shifting from defensiveness to something more pained. You instantly feel a pang of guilt, realizing you've struck a nerve.

You've heard all about Tashi's coaching with Art. Whispers in the locker rooms during tournaments, hushed conversations about how she's pushing him until he cracks. You never wanted to believe it, never wanted to think that Tashi, of all people, would be the one to break him down.

"She calls you Ace, you know."

You make a face at the name. A journalist had written an article about you a few years ago when you won your first US Open, nicknaming you Ace since your serves were almost impossible to hit. The nickname stuck, plastered across headlines, magazine covers, and merchandise. People even bet on you becoming the youngest tennis player with the most aces in history before the season ended. You were only off by a dozen.

"Does she?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, unaffected.

"You do have a killer serve."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Killer." The word feels bitter on your tongue. "Tashi used to hit those back at me like it was nothing."

Art nods, taking another sip of his drink before pausing to look at you. "Only 'cause she knows you."

"Knew," you correct him.

The silence stretches again, heavier this time. You're about to say something, anything to break it, when Art speaks again, his voice softer, more earnest.

"I miss you."

What. The. Fuck.

"I do," he insists, leaning forward, his eyes searching yours. "I miss hanging out with you. I miss playing with you. Watching your games live and not recorded on my TV."

"Art, c'mon." You feel the dread crawling up your throat, wishing you had left the bar sooner. Every word he says seems to pull you deeper into a past you've been trying to escape. Art has done nothing but throw you off your game all night.

"I miss you outside of tennis, too," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I miss our late-night walks, studying in the library. You remember those?"

"Of course I do."

"Tashi misses you, too," he says, and you can tell he's crossing a line, testing your patience. You can feel the corner of your mouth twitch, your eyes unable to meet his. "She tells me every night. She's always keeping up with your stats, watching all of your games, rewatching your old ones. She makes notes for you, how you could improve. She wants to coach you."

"Art, stop it," you finally snap, turning to face him. The night feels ruined, any semblance of peace shattered. Was this all some elaborate scheme against you? After all these years, is this how they repay you? Out of spite? Is that what it is, a way to get back at you because you somehow got it all, and Tashi's taking whatever she can scrape off from Art?

"I don't want her to coach me. And I highly doubt she wants to coach me either."

"I booked the hotel," he says suddenly, his voice softer, more sincere. "She doesn't know you're here. And I really think it will be good for you two to talk." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, placing it carefully on the bar in front of you. "Here's our room number. I'll be out tonight with some friends, so the room is yours till late. Just, don't kill each other or break anything if you fight."

"I'm not going—"

"She really does miss you," he interrupts, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might understand, might relent.

You stare at the piece of paper, feeling its presence like a burning brand. Art stands up, hesitating for a moment as if he wants to say more but thinks better of it. "I mean it. Think about it," he murmurs before turning and walking away, his footsteps echoing in the hollow space of your mind.

You watch him go, each step he takes pulling at the threads of your carefully constructed facade. As he nears the entrance, your eyes follow him instinctively, and that's when you see her. Tashi. She's standing there, with her bags looking around with a familiar intensity, her eyes scanning the room until they lock onto yours.

You feel sick.

Meeting Art was a pleasant surprise; he makes your heart race and your cheeks burn. But Tashi makes your heart stop and your brain shut off.

She looks different—older, more mature, hair straight and cut to a mid-length but also a lighter colour—but still heartbreakingly familiar. Her eyes widen slightly as she recognizes you.

She opens her mouth as if to say something when Art stands next to her, pressing a kiss to her temple, but no words come out.

Your heart hammers in your chest.

The weight of her gaze is too much. You're the first to look away. You stand up abruptly, nearly knocking over your drink in the process. "Excuse me," you mutter to the bartender, slapping a couple of bucks on the counter. Your voice feels distant, and detached, as if it belongs to someone else.

You push through the crowd, your mind a chaotic whirl of emotions. You need air. You need space.

As you reach the elevator, you can feel Tashi's eyes still on you. But you keep moving, your footsteps quickening with each step. You need to focus on tennis. That's the only thing that's never let you down.

Tashi had once picked tennis over you, and now it was your turn to do the same.

You reach your room and close the door behind you, leaning against it as you finally let out the breath you've been holding. The walls seem to close in on you, and you slide down to the floor.

You need to remember why you're here. For the game. For the dream. And that has to be enough.

Only one problem.

You can't sleep.

Hours later, you find yourself in the hotel gym, the quiet hum of the machines the only sound in the stillness of the night. Your mind is racing, a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions you can't control. Desperate for an outlet, you hop on a treadmill and start running, hoping to exhaust yourself into some semblance of peace.

Anything is better than sitting in the hotel lobby, scouring the internet on the public computer for any proof of Art and Tashi's marriage while drinking wine straight from the bottle.

Art was right, it was a small wedding. There were almost no photos of it caught by the paparazzi, only articles upon articles talking about it, magazine covers and everything. God, how could you have missed this? How out of the loop were you?

There was only one photo posted, and it was from Tashi's Facebook and Instagram from less than a year ago; a picture of just her hand holding onto Art's, where you can see her wedding ring. There was no caption. But the photo had millions of likes.

You wonder if Patrick knew. He probably did. He stalks her account religiously and only recently started to tone it down. And then there's you, who had her blocked on everything since your last argument.

The music playing in your ears drowns out the world around you, a heavy beat pulsing as you hum along. Your eyes fixate on the rising numbers on the treadmill screen, sometimes glancing out the window at the city skyline, other times catching your silhouette in the glass reflection.

Sweat makes your clothes cling to you like a second skin, rolling down your spine in rivulets. You're still a little tipsy from your drinks, the taste lingering in your cheeks, but you think you're sober enough that a few more miles will drain it all out.

Art's words are burned into your mind. The wedding you were never invited to, how he suddenly wants to be friends again. You can see where he's coming from; tennis is lonely. You're lonely. You press the button to go faster, your legs burning as you push yourself harder, trying to escape the thoughts that chase you.

You don't hear the door click open, and it takes a few seconds for you to spot the reflection of someone walking behind you in the window's reflection, rolling out a pink yoga mat. But they don't step onto it, they don't move, and even worse, you catch their eye in the reflection.

Fuck.

It's Tashi Duncan.

Your heart lurches in your chest. You quickly look away, panic setting in. You turn your music up higher and make the treadmill run faster, the machine whirring louder in response. Your pulse races, not just from the exertion, but from the presence of the one person you can't bear to face right now.

In the corner of your eye, you see her approach you. When you hear her call out your name between songs, you pretend you can't hear her. You pretend to be captivated by the sight of the city at night, pretend that you're lost in the music as P!nk's voice blares into your ears, cursing out one of her old lovers.

You wonder how long you can keep the act up.

Tashi moves with a determination that you've always admired and feared. She walks around your treadmill, eyes locked onto you with a fierce intensity. Without hesitation, she reaches down and unplugs the machine from the wall, forcing it to power down abruptly.

Not long enough.

"What the fuck?" You huff, yanking out your earbuds. "What's your fucking problem?"

"You're my problem," she says, her voice steady, unyielding as she rolls her eyes.

"I haven't said a word to you."

"And that's my problem. I'm talking to you," Her gaze bores into yours, refusing to be ignored. You can see the resolve in her eyes, the same decisiveness that made her a force to be reckoned with on the court.

"I'm busy," you snap, and your breath comes in ragged gasps, both from the exertion and the emotional storm raging inside you. You feel trapped, cornered by the very person you’ve been trying to avoid.

You bite your tongue, stepping off the treadmill and walking around her when she steps in front of you. You make a straight line for your bag, watching her from the mirrors as she follows you closely.

"Can you listen?" It's more of a demand than an ask, "I just... Art told me what he did. He's a little shit, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. You have other shit to worry about."

You're taking long chugs from your water, staring at her without saying a word. Part of it is because you have nothing to say to her, and another is because you're afraid that if you speak, she'll see through you.

Tashi's eyes roam over you, lingering on your shorts and the way the wires from your earbuds snake from your iPod, under your tank, and peek out from under your sports bra. Her gaze is both appraising and filled with something unresolved between you. When you don't respond, she sighs. "You look great, by the way. On the court. You've changed your approach. You're vicious."

The compliment stings more than it soothes. You still don't say anything, letting the silence stretch between you like a chasm.

"...Or maybe you've always been. I haven't seen you in a long time. So a lot could've changed, I don't know."

You lower your bottle, swallowing the water. It feels cold as it runs down your throat, a stark contrast to the heat of your rising anger. You can't help the way your eyes drop to her hand when you pull your hair down from its ponytail. The sight of the ring on her finger feels like a punch to the gut.

She notices.

"We didn't want you to find out this way."

Your eyes snap up to hers. "And how was I supposed to find out?"

Tashi looks taken aback for a moment, her confident façade faltering. She takes a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "I don't know. Maybe we should've told you. Should've invited you. But I thought... I thought it would be easier for you if you didn't know. I didn't want to hurt you more than I already had."

Your laugh is bitter, devoid of any real amusement. "Easier?

"Look," Tashi begins, her voice tinged with a hint of impatience, "I'm not a fan of the way I ended things. But I think that keeping a grudge for this long is embarrassing. We were teenagers."

"You're right," you concede with a bitter chuckle, "it is embarrassing. But you know what's even more embarrassing?" Your voice rises, fueled by a mixture of frustration and hurt. "Having your husband come to me and tell me how much he misses me. And how you miss me. But you don't have the guts to tell me that yourself, do you? Do you miss me, Tashi?"

"Of course I miss you," she scoffs, her tone defensive. "You were my best friend. My serving partner. We played and won doubles together."

"Is that all I was to you?"

"Was there supposed to be anything more?"

There it is, the moment you've been dreading, the confrontation you've been avoiding. You can feel the familiar ache in your chest, "You know I fucking loved you, Tashi," you admit. "And yeah, whatever, everyone loved you. No one could get enough of Tashi Duncan. But you know damn well I loved you for more than just that."

"Loved?" She steps closer, her eyes searching yours. "You don't love me anymore?"

"No," you tell her. "I don't. I dropped out of your groupie a while ago."

"What do you love, then?" Her voice is almost a whisper, the distance between you closing.

"I love tennis," you confess, your gaze never leaving hers. "I love winning. Turns out I'm great at both. And I love that too. And people love me. That's more than you could ever give me. Or Art."

"Even Patrick?" The mention of his name is a sharp jab; she's trying to get under your skin.

"I don't know, you tell me." You're taunting her. And you love the way she falters for a split second. "You saw him at the Open last year, didn't you?"

The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you. "Listen," she says, her voice dropping lower, "I just came here to tie some loose ends. For Art's sake. He says It'll be good for me."

"Okay," you reply, seizing the opportunity to turn the conversation in your favour. Hook, line and sinker. "Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?"

Hook.

Tashi's eyes narrow slightly, but she takes the bait, her expression shifting to one of determination. "You raise your arm too high when you serve. You're gonna dislocate your shoulder one day."

"I bet you're waiting for the day I do."

"I can make you the best."

"Am I not already?"

Line.

"You're one of the best at most. But not the best. I'd be surprised if you bring back bronze. You're too short-tempered for silver. Let me coach you. I'll make sure you bring back gold."

"I don't need you," you say, the words catching in your throat.

"We both know you do," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

And sinker.

In that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. The words hang in the air, a silent challenge. You can feel the heat radiating from her, the closeness almost unbearable.

Without another thought, your lips crash together in a desperate kiss, a release of all the pent-up tension and longing that has simmered between you for far too long.

It's a whirlwind of heat and passion, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume everything in its path. Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your body pressed against hers with a fierce urgency.

The kiss deepens a symphony of desire and desperation, all the words you couldn't say pouring into it with a fervour that borders on reckless abandon. You can feel yourself start to become absorbed into the bubble that is Tashi Duncan, it sucks you in, and it scares you, makes you feel as if you're sinking into the bottom of the ocean.

She grips the back of your neck, hard enough that her nails dig into the skin. Tashi waits for your gasp, and when you do, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, past your teeth until it collides with your own.

You're moaning, groaning into her mouth with the way she shoves you until your back hits the mirror behind you. You're arching into her at the way she fucking smiles against your lips at your reaction.

It's pathetic. You're pathetic. Almost in the same way Art is. You know it. She knows it. But in your defence, it's been a while since you've been kissed, it's been a while since someone's touched you this way, with heat and flavour. You're a little dizzy from it, cheeks flaring with embarrassment.

Tashi sucks your tongue into her mouth and you buck your hips against the thigh she's pressed between your legs.

There's a sweetness that lingers when she bites your lip, you wonder if she's wearing lipgloss, maybe chapstick. You hope she can't tell you've been drinking, that talking to Art made you spiral, that you've been bluffing since the moment she walked into the gym. Since the night she packed her things and told you she was leaving Stanford, her scholarship has no use since she can't play anymore.

When her hands run down your neck to your waist, gliding over the sweat on your skin, you can feel the cold touch of her wedding ring. It's frigid, making you shiver when Tashi starts to lick up the column of your throat. You almost feel bad about how wet you've become.

"Tashi..." you huff, her hands found their way to the base of your ass, guiding you to rock faster against her, only making you whine. Her grasp is tight, wanting. She pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your crotch closer to hers and then pushing you back down on her leg. She repeats the motion a few times, rolling her own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto her.

Tashi rewards you with a quiet moan—oh, you want her to do that again, you're going to make her do that again, louder and louder—and then, with a touch so light you could cry, she traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

You can feel your stomach nearly drop, "You're married, Tashi."

She pulls away just to laugh at you. One finger traces your slit through your shorts, and you hear yourself moan. She raises her brows, a challenging look in her eyes, "Are you jealous?"

You try to scoff, but the cold glass of the mirror behind you squeaks when you shift. Even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once.

"What would Art say?" You try to say, your hair falling over your face as you try to collect some kind of morality. If you were caught, you can already imagine the headlines and the stories people would write about you. "What would he do if he found us right now?"

"I don't know," Tashi hums, leaning closer. She pretends to think as if the answer isn't obvious, teasing you a little when she gets close enough to kiss you but doesn't. "He'd probably ask to join."

You can't stop the way that thought alone makes you melt. You remember the jokes Patrick used to make back when you were in college, of you and Tashi being his wet dreams. You can almost imagine, how he would moan at everything, want everything, his whiney moans too similar to the ones he makes when he's on the court.

Tashi rubs gently at your pussy a few more times like she's exploring you, and then suddenly she taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and she sighs against your mouth. "You're so wet. You like it when I touch you?"

"Yeah, please... touch me." You nod. And in your head, you're telling yourself you only like it because you haven't been with anyone since Patrick left for his tour.

Tashi kisses you again, and it's a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath her shirt she starts to fumble with your waistband, and you're both angry and resentful and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet.

Her fingers are clumsily slipping into your underwear and then she's there, her fingers are brushing right against your clit—you're so wet that her fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time she reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Tashi leaves you gasping and she teases you for it. "So sensitive," she taunts against your lips, pressing her thumb against your clit so she can see you squirm, pumping her fingers at an urgent pace to hear you moan. "So needy."

With each movement, she scissors her fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and she starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? I am, aren't I? I'm exactly what you need. C'mon say you want me. Tell me you need me, Ace."

"Maybe—" You're breathless, and the nickname has you tugging at her hair again, "Shit, I saw the way you made Art. He... oh god... he wouldn't be half the athlete without you. I also... I also wouldn't want to ruin my shoulder... while—while serving."

"I'm not talking about tennis."

For a moment, you worry that you've fallen for a trap, that you've said too much. You're vulnerable, a little drunk on lust and wine, and Tashi isn't stupid to not catch your sapphic crush on her since the two of you became friends, an old high school love that's never really disappeared, from slumber party kisses and how you've gawked at her, at her husband and even her ex-boyfriend.

"C'mon, Tash, you're always talking about tennis."

"Not this time."

You barely catch onto what she says. Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that she's given up on pumping her fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach—"I think I'm close... oh, I don't—fuck—keep touching me like that."

She bites your neck until you say her name. You pull her hair until she moans. Her touch is blistering against your skin. She says your name in a breathy drawl like she's pleading with you, humouring you, wanting to take everything from you.

"Keep going, please, please don't stop," you all but shout, and Tashi continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of her hand means the heel of her palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into her hand—you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you.

Every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Tashi whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming—

Distantly, you can feel her fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting—and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto her lap—but other than that, all you know is the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once. A hot sting against your skin that reminds you of the sun whenever you're on the tennis court, deep into the game you've turned into the love of your life.

It can't have possibly been this long since the last time you've gotten laid, right?

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Tashi is heaving for breath against your shoulder and her fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. "You're so pretty, you know that? No tennis talk."

You lean your head back against the mirror, a slow grin forming on your lips, "You don't think I'm pretty when I play."

"I think you're hot when you play."

You peek a glance at Tashi, meeting her eyes as she watches you, watching the way you catch your breath, skin shining against the fluorescent lights of the gym, similar to how you shine on the court. Yeah, you're a sight for sore fucking eyes.

Tashi takes slow, taunting steps back and away from you, and then she brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes, you can see the most fucked-out look on her face just at the taste of your cum.

She licks her fingers clean—you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight—before opening her eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "I'll be in my room," she rolls up her pink mat (which she never used) and picks up her bag, "I'm sure you know the number. I'm hoping you can return the favour and touch me or something. You know, before you leave in the morning."

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[chenlesfavorite]

“Here, Y/N, let me do your nails.” Giselle says, sitting you down on the floor. “Hey Rina, where are your nail polishes?” Giselle exclaims, turning her head over to Karina who’s eating chips on her bed and watching the Dear Evan Hansen musical on YouTube with Ningning and Winter.

“They’re in the second drawer over there.” Karina points to the chest of drawers next to her vanity desk. Giselle stands up and makes her way over to the chest of drawers, opening the second one.

Giselle takes a few different nail polishes and closes the drawer, carrying them and placing them down in front of you, she sits down on the floor as well. “What color is speaking to you, hmm?” Giselle asks, looking at you with a sly smile.

You take a look at all the polishes, thinking of which one to choose. “I think I want the red... it looks nice.” You reply and Giselle nods her head, taking the red nail polish. “Amazing choice. By the way, I have a question." Giselle says.

She opens the nail polish and gently takes your hand, starting to carefully apply the polish. “How do you feel about Chenle?"

“How I feel about him?” You look at her, pondering for a moment. "I mean, I don't... know? He's just, him, I guess."

“You don't know? Girl, be so serious! We all know you like him.” Winter speaks up, wiping the chip dust off of her fingers. "Yeah, and he keeps talking about you as well, so there's no doubt he likes you back." Giselle adds.

“Enemies by day, lovers by night type shit...” Karina says. Ningning lightly punches her shoulder. “Karina!” Ningning exclaims.

“What? I’m just saying.” Karina responds, putting her hands in the air as if she got caught by the police. “Nah, Lele's too busy with racing and I don’t like him nor does he like me back.” You reply, looking at your fingers on your right hand, admiring how nicely Giselle painted them.

“Lele? Ouuuhhh.. girll...” Giselle has a smirk on her face, imagining god knows what? “Not the nickname for him! Are you 100% sure you don't like him?” Giselle adds on, making her voice higher— she’s super intrigued by your and Chenle’s relationship for some reason.

“I am sure, Gigi!” You say, clicking your tongue. “Even after that night when he canceled his race for you... and...” Her voice trails off and she pauses for a moment. “You know what happened after that...”

“Giselle, come on. That was just a one-time thing that happened and we both mutually agreed that we’ll forget about it and not speak of it.” You reply, sighing.

“I know but come on, I would catch hella feelings after that! Like what do you mean you dropped something so important to you for lil ol’ me?” Giselle says, letting your hand go and closing the red nail polish.

Giselle was sort of right, I mean, you thought about that often but... you didn't think about it that hard because it was his decision to cancel the race but now that Giselle brought it up... he really did that for you. Just because you messed up and accidentally sent a message to him instead of the group chat.

And then that night happened. He let you lay in his arms for the entire night, without even questioning it or trying to get you out of that grasp. And, if he woke up before you did... he would not get up until you got up yourself. However, that didn’t happen as you ended up waking up before him and you ran out of his place.

That has you now thinking; how does Chenle truly feel about you? Does he dislike you the way you dislike him? Or perhaps...

‘No, no, that’s stupid of me to think, he would never.’ You say to yourself in your mind as you sigh, looking at your nails. “Thanks, Gigi. I love ‘em.” You say, giving a smile to Giselle, although her bringing that up affected you, no questions about it.

“Hey, let’s go play FNAF, I’m bored.” Winter suggests.

Well, seems like your feelings about him will be put aside for now.

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NIGHT RIDER : chapter 31 — his true feelings

back — masterlist — next

! author’s note : … well! he said it guys! he said the L word! not directly to y/n butttttt… yk!! 🙈

✮⋆˙ taglist: @nanaxwi @neocrashed @404tytrack @connormurphynation @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @chenlesfeetpic @neozon3nha @morkiee @doughyk @i03jae @haechology @foxy-kitsune @fullsunbabe @polarisjisung @beommii @soobiverse @onlyhyunjin @lostinneocity @yyangj3lly @junviadinho @miyawwn @marvelahsobx @starfilledgaze @nosungluv @gukuwii @bitchzitschimi @whoooootf @nneteyamss @theandypark @urslytherin @xcosmi @taroddori @winwintea @iamsimplyasimp @ckline35 @yutarot @sunghoonsgfreal @roseangelxfuma @thegracerammy @nctjunie @do-you-remember-summer-127 @cosmic-marauder @tanjanro @myouthles @nctrawberries @octubreuno @galacticpurpl3 @voikiraz

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[asteroshearts]

My Type

Oh no! Nanami's wife is just Itadori's type!

Or the story of how, upon meeting Nanami's wife, Itadori just can't take his eyes off her.

Nanami x Reader

Tags: this story was referenced here, but can be read completely alone, she/her pronouns, discussions of body types, Itadori's a bit of a pervert here (but he doesn't actually see anything!! Nanami, however, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)), typical anime flashing

Hey Ken: How are you feeling?

You: Like shit My fever got worse after you left

Hey Ken: I'll be home soon. Please take ibuprofen, drink lots of water, and rest as much as you can. I'm finishing up now.

You: I just checked our cabinet We ran out of Bufferin UGHHHH I feel terrible I fucking told Daiki from accounting that he should go home if he was coughing but he said it was fine AND COUGHED IN MY FACE And now look at me

Hey Ken: We're out? I'll pick some up on my way home while I grab our other groceries. Please wait for me until then. Take a nap if you can. You're just going to get more exhausted thinking of the idiots in your office.

You: I looked online, delivery is going to take over an hour I'm getting dizzier I don't want to wait I'm going to go to the Matsukiyo near us to get it myself

Hey Ken: What?

Hey Ken: Don't go. I'll pick it up.

Hey Ken: Darling. Read my messages.

Hey Ken: Pick up the phone.

(10) Missed Calls

Several moments ago…

Itadori already thought that today got off to a weird start.

To begin with, it wasn't Ijichi in the driver's seat to pick him up today, but Nanamin. It also wasn't the Jujutsu Tech standard vehicle, but a nice, sleek, and expensive Porsche.

"W-Woah! Nanamin!" Itadori called then. Eyes wide and bright at the polished paint that glistened in the heavy sunlight. "Nice ride!" he said giddily, running his fingers across the aerodynamic doors. Popping his head up toward Nanami's window, he said, "This must've cost you a fortune!" And he thought that Gojo-sensei spent crazily.

"It was a gift," Nanami flatly said. The boy gaped at him like a fish. But who would just give away a car like this? They had to be really close — or maybe he had saved some rich guy and he thanked Nanamin by giving him a brand new car! The boy's eyes shone. Maybe one day he could get a nice gift like — "Get in." The doors unlocked.

"Hiya, Ijichi-san! Must be nice not driving for once, huh?" While marveling at the car's clean interior, he hopped into the back seat, feeling the leather under his hands and the cool blast of the AC hit his sweaty hair after being in the summer sun.

"Good morning, Itadori-kun," the dark-haired man said with a nervous smile. The car rumbled beneath them as Nanami turned the engine back on. "Nanami-san is surely giving me a nice change of pace — "

"Our duties will not change," Nanami stated, turning the wheel. "Ijichi-san is still required to do his job, as well as you, Itadori-kun. Don't get distracted." The pink-haired boy pouted in the backseat. "It just so happens that I have urgent errands to run after this, so time is of the essence."

Turning into an alleyway, Nanami smoothly hit the brakes and put the car into park. "Let's go."

Luckily for him, the curse was a low-level one mostly used for teaching Itadori the ropes, and the two of them managed to exorcise it in record time. For someone who was just thrust into the world of curses several weeks ago, he was doing well. As well as anyone could in his situation.

The boy was still a bumbling newbie, but he had a good head on his shoulders and was a strong opponent for most curses that they dealt with on a daily basis. Lips twitching into a frown, the blond thought that if Gojo didn't poison the youth's mind, surely Yuji would continue having a nice and mature head on his shoulders.

Nanami had to drop Ijichi off at his next assignment, but other than that, all he needed was to drop Itadori off at the college and then he could return to his sick wife. Paperwork still needed to be done, but luckily he could finish that at a later time. Unfortunately, last night you had a major headache and showed signs of an upcoming sickness this morning.

He had just barely convinced you to not do remote work and just take the day off to rest instead. However, as he checked on his messages with you, he found out that you were insisting on double — no, triple mask to go to the pharmacy yourself. All while you had a 37.5-degree fever.

He tried to call you once, thrice, and all of them were left for voicemail.

Cursing inwardly, Nanami leaned his head back on the headrest. Normally, the blond man was the arbiter of restraint and level-headed thinking, but all of that went out the door at the mere thought of his sickly wife dragging herself out in the street to get some medication. Why did you have to be so stubborn?

"My apologies, Itadori-kun." Nanami pushed up his glasses. "I need to take a detour before I drop you off at your dorm. I apologize for the inconvenience."

The boy blinked owlishly. "Oh that's alri — GH!"

Without another word, Nanami quickly turned left, jolting the teen to the side from the momentum, increasing the speed of his vehicle, and raced down the streets.

Within five minutes, Itadori felt like a dog left in the car as his "owner" raced into the nearest grocery store to grab medication, vegetables, and grains for the upcoming, proverbial storm. Even as the cashier tried their hardest to ignore the intense stare of the tall blond man before them, every second that ticked by as they scanned his purchase felt like hours.

As soon as he nearly threw his money on the tray and took all of the grocery bags under his toned arms, Nanami was off again, shifting into drive and ignoring the speed limit all the way back home.

Nanami could've nearly run into his apartment's chain-link garage doors if it had lifted any slower, allowing him access to his own underground parking before he landed in his designated parking spot within three seconds.

Racing out the car, he took all of the grocery bags over one muscular arm and was prepared to run off until he remembered he had a teen in the backseat.

"Itadori-kun," he said hurriedly. "Can you — " The man stopped himself short.

He originally planned to tell the boy to wait for him in the car, but caught sight of the boy's skin gleaming with sweat, reflecting one of the garage's low lights. Summer was brutal right now, with insane humidity that made Itadori's hair damp as if he had just taken a dunk in water. Even though the parking garage was cooler than it was outside, it was still unbearably hot, not to mention cruel, if he had forced the teen to just sit here and deal with it. Itadori had already waited in the hot car when he went out to grab groceries, and although he rolled the windows down, suddenly Nanami remembered all of the articles of puppies and toddlers dying in the back of cars during the summer.

Sighing, the man pushed his glasses up. "Behave yourself. Come with me."

"Ken?" Eyes wide, you held the door open. Keys were lifted up in the air in the man's hands, but you had beat him to the chase and opened the door before he managed to get the key in the keyhole. "Oh! I didn't know that you were bringing a guest." Stepping back quickly, you realized another person was standing behind your husband. "If I had known, I would've worn a surgeon mask!" Alert, you said. "Hold on, I'll go grab one right now — !"

"No need. We'll make this fast." He was about to take a step forward, but then realized that the student hadn't moved an inch ever since you opened the door. "Itadori-kun?"

As still as a statue, pink slowly rose from the boy's neck all the way up to the tips of his ears. He couldn't rip his gaze from you for even a second. Although your hair wasn't done and your face was covered, he could tell just how beautiful you were.

Furthermore, you looked just like the pin-up models he had in his room — you were just his type! Your little chemise barely ended at the middle of your thigh, and although everything important was covered up, it left little to the imagination with how the fabric hugged your waist and hips. As you held the door open for them and leaned forward, the loose triangle top of your nightgown was teasing him with the exposed curves and valleys of your chest.

You were too hot!

"Itadori-kun," Nanami repeated, irritated.

Way too hot for Nanamin!

"Nanamin! You didn't tell me that you were married!" Eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets, Itadori almost thought they had gotten the wrong apartment when you had just opened the door. While his mentor was an attractive man, it was like a mountain and a molehill to the teenager. Not to mention that this strict and serious ex-salaryman was hitched! To a babe no less!

Certainly, you didn't marry for personality!

He couldn't imagine what your daily life was like while Nanamin talked about doing the bare minimum and never smiled.

Raising an eyebrow, Nanami followed Itadori's stare to your state of dress. You weren't even wearing your indoor slippers, and you were absolutely breathtaking even if you had a dark clay mask over your face. He wasn't an idiot, and he could feel his blood vessels pumping harshly. Trying to remind himself with mantras of how Itadori was just a stupid, hormonal teenager, and you could dress how you wanted, and that he especially couldn't beat up Itadori. Pinching his nose bridge, the man couldn't even look at the boy. "My personal life and my work life are completely separate. I wouldn't anno — !"

"But you don't even wear a wedding ring!" Itadori insisted.

"Why would I wear my rings when my daily job involves fighting and getting messy?" Nanami rhetorically asked, stepping through your door with all the groceries in one go. "Wedding and engagement rings are investments, and I'd be damned if I lose my rings and be forced to inflate the wedding ring industry any more than I already have."

Grinning, you beamed at Itadori. Only you really know how seriously Nanami took the "three month's salary on rings" tradition, especially on his sorcerer's salary. "Now you know, Itadori-kun! If you catch him committing adultery while he's out without his ring, you'll shank him for me, right?" Placing both of your hands on your husband's waist, you laughed when you playfully tried to shake him. Of course, that didn't do much. Your man continued to stand there like a stone statue, as if you tried to rock a brick wall while he remained wholly unamused.

From your weak roughhousing, all that managed to do was drop your spaghetti strap from your shoulder. With your dress threatening to slip, Nanami sighed and quickly stood in front of you, blocking your body from Itadori's gaze. He carefully and slowly pulled your shoulder strap back up your body before you managed to flash the poor teen. When you looked up, his brown eyes met with yours.

Gently rubbing your bare shoulder with his large hand, he asked, "I thought you said you were going to Matsukiyo?"

"I was," you rasped out, voice raw from all the coughing you did. "But then I took one step outside and it was too damn hot." Laughing weakly, you said, "I slunk back like a vampire the second the humidity hit me."

The man sighed deeply, and his shoulders dropped in relief and exhaustion. While he ran around like a chicken with its head cut off from worry, he was glad that you ended up not going out after all.

"Why didn't you pick up my calls?" he said deeply, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

"I was making okayu with kombu," you explained. "Sorry," you said genuinely, "that's all I managed to make for our dinner today."

"I'm upset that you cooked in the first place," Nanami scolded. "You should be resting. I said I'd take care of it. Why were you in the kitchen when the hot fumes could make your fever even worse?" Turning away from his nagging, you pouted.

"I'm hungry though…" you mumbled, far too much like a spoiled child, and Nanami was sure, in some way, that you were spoiled, of his making too. He always prioritized you and let you have your way. "And I already ate the miyeok guk you made."

"You could've ordered delivery," the man countered.

"Nothing interested me there."

Inhaling deeply once more, Nanami tried to calm the upcoming headache he felt. There was no point in arguing with you, not when you were coughing and sick like this. "Stay here. I'm going to whip up a bowl of okayu to have with your medicine," the man ordered before he picked up a blanket you had draped over one of your couches and wrapped you in it like a burrito. When you opened your mouth, your husband only sternly repeated, "Stay."

Playfully rolling your eyes when he left to go to the kitchen, you puffed out your cheeks in mock irritation. Closing the door to your apartment so the AC couldn't escape anymore, you turned to the teen who was standing awkwardly in your home.

"Aw I'm sorry," you said, voice sounding like sandpaper again. "You know, Kento's kinda strict, but I assure you he's a good man," you said gently. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

"M-Me?" Itadori sputtered. "I'm not the one taking care of him! He takes care of me! Um…" The boy grew demure when he realized he had no way to address you.

"Oh," you realized you didn't introduce yourself. "I apologize! I totally forgot! I know you since Ken talks about you and Ino all the time, but I didn't realize you didn't know me!"

Itadori gasped. "He talks about me?!"

"Of course! All good things!" you assured. "Even though Kento seems like a meanie, he's a genuine person and wouldn't exaggerate, so he wouldn't praise you unless he absolutely meant it." You knew that this was the teen that hosted Sukuna, the King of Curses. It was a heavy burden for someone who wasn't even an adult yet, and your heart grew heavy at the thought of this boy's fate.

"Before I forget…" Quickly, you ran to your bathroom and cleaned off your clay face mask before you returned with your bare face wet and a cloth Pompompurin headband keeping your hair out of the way. "I need to introduce myself."

Now Itadori was sure that you two were married with the way you introduced yourself nearly identically to your husband. With your back straight and shoulders squared, hands flat, and arms straight at your side, you closed your eyes and bowed.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Itadori-kun." You acquired your business card out of thin air and held it out for the boy. "My name is Nanami [Name], and I'm a senior project manager at Yurukawa Corp. If you or your friends ever get tired of exorcising curses and want to look into engineering, you can ask me!"

Huh?

It was too silent.

When you rose and looked up, you realized that your husband had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. Standing in between you and Itadori, your husband's stern expression could freeze hell over as he stared down at Itadori with a frown, arm outstretched and his hand held up — right where Itadori's eyes would've seen your cleavage when you bent over to bow.

"Itadori-kun."

"Y-Yes!"

"We are going. Now."

The car was completely silent the entire way to the dorm rooms. Quickly shifting the car into park, Itadori jumped at the sudden stop.

No one said a word. The entire ride felt like the air was heavy enough to drown in.

"Itadori-kun." Nanami's eyes were hidden by the reflection in his glasses.

"…Yes?" the boy squeaked out, pressing his index fingers together.

"Never ogle my wife again."

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter is Back! - 2

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Cassy, pardon my eldest daughter. As a mother, I admit the mistakes and the shame you've witnessed today.” Genevieve clasped her friend’s hands together, her demeanor polished yet tense.

She couldn't ruin Victoria and Bucky's engagement because of you. She had worked hard to persuade her husband to connect with the Barnes.

Juliana looked at Genevieve, noting how she was swallowing her pride—a remarkable feat for such a proud woman. She gently patted her friend's hand. “It’s alright. Every family has its own troubles.”

Genevieve's face brightened upon hearing that. She placed a hand on her chest. “Oh, what a great friend you are. I’m so glad we’re going to be in-laws.”

Victoria felt a wave of relief wash over her. Your attempt to ruin her future hadn't succeeded.

Bucky and his mother, exuding an air of sophistication and wealth, got into their Rolls-Royce Phantom. Juliana's movements were graceful, and her every gesture was a testament to their family's high status. Still silent and composed, Bucky followed her, his mind racing with thoughts of the day’s events.

In the quiet ride, Bucky's mind kept replaying the events of the day. His fingers touched his lips.

Someone had touched his face and kissed him.

He hadn’t vomited or fainted.

He would have to see the doctor tomorrow.

“Are you alright?” Juliana looked at her son, noticing how unusually quiet he seemed. He hadn't shown any reaction when she saw him get so close to you. Compared to Victoria, she could see Bucky's face turn pale.

Bucky murmured, “It's strange.”

Then he looked at his mother. “After what we saw today, do you still want to keep the engagement going?”

Juliana tilted her head and crossed her arms. “We need their money. I thought being in-laws would benefit us, but I'm starting to have second thoughts. We'll see.”

She asked, “What about you? If you don't like it, we can stop the wedding.”

Bucky hummed, his eyes looking out the window. “I don't know.”

Right now, all he needed was an answer to why he didn’t react when you kissed him.

He grabbed his phone and started typing, his fingers moving quickly over the screen. “I want you to search for someone.” Then he clicked send.

Within a minute, his phone vibrated with a message: “OK.”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, his fingers lingering on his lips, his mind racing as the car smoothly glided through the city streets.

💋💋💋💋

Inside the bedroom, Bucky emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets glistening on his six-pack abs and muscular chest. His dark hair was damp, and he exuded a fresh, clean scent.

He had spent an hour in the shower, trying to wash away the sensation of Victoria’s touch.

Then he heard his phone buzz again. It was the information he had requested about your background.

He quickly put on his pants, then sat on the edge of his bed, his body still slightly wet, and started reading the message, his eyes scanning the details intently.

The story unfolded: you are the child of the first wife. After your mother's death, your father, Jonathan, brought another woman and her daughter into the house.

It turned out that when Jonathan was drunk, a woman took advantage of the situation. That woman was Genevieve, and her daughter was Victoria.

You hated your stepmother and stepsister, becoming a rebel. You caused chaos at home and were a troublemaker at school, until the day you were finally kicked out of the house.

Bucky read on until he reached the part about your occupation. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he stood up abruptly. “She's what?!”

🎒🎒🎒🎒

“RINGGGG!”

The bell's sound echoed throughout the entire building. It was supposed to signal the students to enter their classrooms. But they didn’t. They continued smoking, sitting on the floor, or sleeping.

This was a common sight at Granite Hills Reform School, where problematic, delinquent students from all over the country were gathered.

“Tuck. Tuck. Tuck.” The sound of something hitting the floor echoed in the hallway. Students who were still lingering started to head into their classrooms. The sound served as a final warning for them.

They didn’t want to have a problem with the person responsible for the noise.

“It’s time to enter the class, you lazy pricks. Why the heck are you guys still here? Are you discussing the solution for world peace?” You tapped a baseball bat on a locker door, addressing the final-year students who were still acting tough.

The students who had been acting strong before began to back away. One of them pulled a friend away from starting a fight with you. “Let's go. Didn’t you hear she fought two students who weighed like sumo wrestlers?”

“It was her? Damn. No wonder she broke her left hand.”

You watched as the last group of students left the hallway. Now it was empty.

You entered your classroom. Your students were already waiting for you, looking attentive and ready.

You sat on your chair and rested your leg on your teacher's desk.

Pointing at one student, you said, “Andre, prepare the TV.”

“TV again? When can we study?” Jimmy, one of the students, complained.

“Now you want to study? Fuck. I don't get paid enough for this,” you retorted.

“Grab your phone and look for 'To Kill a Mockingbird,'” you instructed.

“We didn't use the book?” Jimmy asked.

“What's the point? You're going to throw the book away,” you replied.

The other students agreed with your reasoning.

“Read two chapters, and I will ask you questions,” you said.

The students in your class started complaining amongst themselves, but you didn't care.

After a while, you announced, “Time's up,” and began asking questions.

You got up from your seat and walked around the class, your presence commanding attention. Then, you picked unlucky student Jimmy.

“Who is Scout Finch, and how does she introduce herself and her family in Chapter 1?” you asked.

Jimmy gulped nervously. “Scout Finch is a local shopkeeper who lives alone and has no family.”

“WRONG,” you declared bluntly.

“Miss, I know the answer,” Andre raised his hand eagerly.

“Give it to me,” you commanded.

“Scout Finch is the young narrator of the story. She introduces her father, Atticus Finch, her brother, Jem, and mentions her mother’s death,” Andre confidently answered.

You snapped your fingers, a smirk playing on your lips. “That's right. Bravo.” Then, you pulled dollar bills from your pants pocket and handed them to Andre.

“As a reward, you could skip this class, buy a coca-cola for you, and grab a coffee from the cafeteria for me,” you said.

“But… I'm diabetic,” Andre protested.

“A mineral water for you then,” you replied dismissively.

Andre rolled his eyes and left the classroom. As he headed to the cafeteria, he never imagined that the hallway would be empty and the dirty graffiti gone.

All of this has happened since you joined this school, and the crime records have also decreased significantly.

You were scary as heck, but you had made a change in this school.

As Andre returned to the class with the drinks, he saw someone who seemed out of place entering the building.

He looked the gentleman up and down. This man seemed to embody the type of person he wanted to become when he grew up.

“I'm looking for Miss Sinclair,” the man asked Andre with a deep voice.

Andre raised his eyebrows, taken aback. “My teacher?”

💋💋💋💋

Back in the classroom, you sat behind your teacher's desk, still asking questions while waiting for your coffee. You rested your right arm behind you and propped your legs up on the desk again.

Finally, Andre entered.

“Finally—" you began, but your words stopped short when you saw the person behind your student.

“Whaa—Andre, did you bring your master?” Jimmy asked, starting to laugh. “Hahaha—oh.” He realized he was the only one laughing in the class.

Andre handed you your coffee. “Here's your coffee, miss. This gentleman is looking for you.”

“Oh, you have a gigolo, miss?” Jimmy quipped.

You looked at the guest while sipping your hot coffee. “The outfit he's wearing from head to toe is worth more than your net worth, Jimmy.”

Other students murmured while Jimmy asked, “Should I become a gigolo too?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked Bucky.

“I want to talk to you,” Bucky replied.

“I don't have time,” you retorted.

“Is this how you talk after you stole a kiss from me?” Bucky's words hung in the air.

“Oohhh…,” the students murmured in surprise, their voices echoing in the classroom. Seeing their intimidating teacher talking to a man who looked prosperous, and she stole a kiss??

“RINGGGG…”

“Get all of your asses out of this room,” you commanded sternly, gesturing for the students to leave.

“Awww,” the students started complaining, reluctant to leave as they wanted to see what happened next. However, they eventually relented and filed out of the classroom, grumbling as they went. In a short moment, the classroom had become empty.

“Is this how you talk to your students?” Bucky asked, a hint of amusement in his voice, observing your interaction with the students.

“They're not students, they're devil spawn,” you replied with a wry smile, leaning back in your chair with a sense of satisfaction.

“Pfft…” Bucky turned away his face, trying his best not to laugh. Now, he realizes entirely that you're different from all the women he's ever met, especially Victoria.

“So why are you here? Is it because I kissed you without your consent?” you asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Ehm. Partly. And I want to talk to you about something else. Please,” he replied politely, his demeanor surprisingly calm despite the situation.

You raised your eyebrows, not expecting him to ask so politely. He didn't seem mad, even after you kissed him. You were starting to feel like Bucky was too good for your stepsister.

Author Note: I have so much fun writing this chapter 😂

Taglist:

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[strawbeelemonade]

ROMANTIC HEADCANNONS: Hobart Brown

i don't know much about Hobbie, just what i've seen of him in the trailer. i think he's fun! :D this was made before the movie's come out by the way, so we're going off the barebones research ive done on the wiki and my silly brain impulses.

🕷- If Hobart has a crush on you, you will probably not know about it.

🕷- But there will be signs.

🕷- He doesn’t project a lot of his feelings on the surface. He keeps his cool in most cases. But you WILL get little smiles and hums occasionally.

🕷- When you mention you liked one of his guitar picks, he’ll give it to you.

🕷- He’s not afraid of eye contact, especially with you.

🕷- While he randomly practices he might catch you watching him in awe, and when your eyes meet he won’t look away.

🕷- He starts playing faster.

🕷- He’ll greet you first out of anyone in a group every time. Even if he has to walk passed someone else to say hi.

🕷- He seeks you out first and gives you a little “hey.”

🕷- If he’s sat and you come over he’ll pat the spot next to him.

🕷- “C’mere.”

🕷- Is comfortable sitting in complete silence.

🕷- If you you don’t have any spider powers and you guys have to run he will grab you.

🕷- No questions asked. YOINK.

🕷- His outfits are full of sharp edges and spikes, so he’s mindful. But there’s a sweet spot tucked right at his side with a space between his collar and jaw for your head to rest.

🕷- He likes it. Keep your head there.

🕷- He’s always coloured his nails in with sharpie, but If your lucky he might even let you do it.

🕷- If you have nail polish on hand he’ll let you paint his nails instead, which he ends up preferring the look of and might make the switch.

🕷- Polish is way messier, though. So he was hoping you’d do it whenever he sees you.

🕷- He’ll do yours. Give him your hand.

🕷- No matter how tall you are, Hobart will almost certainly be taller.

🕷- while holding a conversation he’ll get closer to you then he would with other people.

🕷- He’ll greet you by locking your fingers with his in a high five format… if that makes sense

🕷- His hands are huge, and unusually warm. You tell him it’s nice.

🕷- His reaction time is crazy, if a projectile is headed your way, and he can stop it? Best believe he’s gonna catch that shit. And chances are he’ll be close enough to you to just stick his arm in front of your face and stop it.

🕷- He will opt to stay close to you.

🕷- If you give him any band pins or patches he will put that on the front of his jacket. If there’s no room he’ll make some.

🕷- He has an affect on the emotional environment in a room.

🕷- If someone tries to intimidate or square up to him chances are they are gonna look pretty stupid. He’s just unbothered.

🕷- If someone tries to bother you he’ll let his presence be all the message they need to get lost. He won’t budge, no matter what. He’ll look out for you, Dw.

🕷- He will stand behind you and just watch them with this foul, unimpressed look on his face.

🕷- Canonically Hobart is super politically active, so his moral compass is strong. he stands up for what’s right and defends what he believes in. If he defends you, it will mean a lot.

🕷- If you’re anxious, scared or stressed you can hang out with him for maybe like 5 minutes and you’ll immediately feel better. He likes that you come to him for things like that.

🕷- You make him relax easily. You’ll have no idea, but you have a huge affect on him.

🕷- I can imagine he writes music in his free time, he might play a song or two for you if your interested…

🕷- He’ll get a little shy, so make sure to tell him how cool you think it is!!

🕷- You make him go shy more than you realise.

🕷- In his universe Hobart has canonically experienced homelessness, so basic amenities that you might take for granted mean a lot to him. He’ll share what he has with you, no matter how small of a thing it is.

🕷- If you packed a little lunch or grabbed a snack from somewhere and share some with him then he will smile a bit.

[capricornlevi]

noise complaints -- choso x reader

college au!choso x reader, RA!choso, secret relationship. wc 2.5k

MDNI, 18+ only. reader has a vagina but no gendered pronouns.

"he's at the door again!"

you hear utahime's shout from the bedroom next to yours but you don't answer, hoping she'll get the message from your pointed silence.

she doesn't.

"come on!" she protests through the paper-thin walls. "please! you're the only one he likes, we never get written up when you answer."

"turning the music down could help!" you shout back, but without much malice. it's 8pm on a friday, hardly unsociable hours, and the speaker isn't nearly as loud as some of the other dorms on your floor. it's not exam season; there's no reason why you need to be singled out for punishment.

plus, the only reason you're not in there with her -- drunkenly singing along to some autogenerated playlist that has 27 likes, sipping 'sangria' that's more like boxed red wine and soda -- is because she's on a date, one she's been looking forward to for some time now, one you helped her get ready for as she rambled anxiously about her plans for the evening.

you don't have it in you to begrudge her.

"fine," you sigh, rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hand.

two voices cheer victoriously from next door.

"we love you!"

you chuckle to yourself before it gets cut off by a yawn.

tossing your phone onto the bedside table, you stand up, rolling out a knot in your shoulder that you know will only get worse as the evening progresses.

time to go see the RA.

the shy, reserved, yet surprisingly strict RA. the one who has a particular hatred for noise complaints.

he's still knocking at your door; like utahime, he clearly doesn't take silence for an answer. you speed up to answer it before your roommate feels to need to intervene herself.

as you make your way down the hall, you wonder absent-mindedly if you should've changed into something more ... formal. your vest is nearly see-through, the fabric light and flimsy, but you rationalise it away.

it's summer. it's insufferably hot in the dorms, too uncomfortable to wear anything other than the bare minimum.

you're sure he won't mind. he's probably hot as well.

not dwelling on those thoughts any further, you open the door to find what you expected to see -- choso standing there, holding the tablet that the RAs are issued with to log complaints on their floor, chipped black nail polish clearly visible as he tucks the device against his chest.

he's wearing all black - as per usual - but he's swapped his typical hoodie and jeans for a t-shirt and light sweats, looking a little self-conscious as your eyes flicker up and down while taking in the change in outfit.

you grin. it's really endearing.

"hi, choso."

"hi," he replies, a blush staining his cheekbones already. his dark hair is swept back in its usual hairstyle, a few soft strands falling into his eyes before he brushes them out of the way. he gives you a look you're all too familiar with, peering up at you through frustratingly perfect eyelashes, dark brown eyes meeting yours with a forced confidence "you ... you probably know why i'm knocking."

"i can guess," you answer plainly, still smiling at him as he puts in significant effort in keeping his eyes fixed on your face.

he bites his lip, a silver ring catching the light as it shifts. "okay. the same as before, then."

"so you're here about the noise?" you offer innocently, gesturing down to utahime's room.

he looks confused for a moment, thin brows furrowing as he tries to piece together your reasoning.

eventually, he seems to understand what you're getting at. he raises his voice just loud enough that utahime can hear from down the hall.

"yeah, the noise. got a report in a few minutes ago, so --"

"of course," you reply diligently. "i understand."

"uh ... good. so we're clear, then."

he trails off a little awkwardly, and if it weren't for the darkening of his pupils you'd think he was actually discouraged by your responses. you wonder if you've put on too good of a show.

not willing to let that happen, your grin deepens as you lift your hand, take him by the collar and drag him in for a messy kiss, barely letting the door close behind him as you pull him inside.

the awkward, shy version of choso nearly disappears the moment his lips meet yours again; he's voracious, hungry, the cool metal of his piercing hitting off your teeth as he deepens the kiss within moments of touching you.

you're still just as surprised by this side of him, this layer you didn't know he had, the same as you were the first time this happened. you relish every time you get to see it.

from what he's alluded to before, nobody else has the privilege.

"w-wait," you whisper against his lips, kiss-slick and already swollen, "you have to be quiet. she ... it's too early for her to find out."

instead of answering, he fixes his lips to your pulse point, suckling at your neck as he backs you against the wall, your shoulderblades hitting against the cold plaster and raising your skin to goosebumps.

"choso -- choso, i'm not kidding," you protest half-heartedly, the whisper already torn and desperate. "we need to -- we need to get to my room, ok? then we can do whatever --"

before you've even finished the sentence he pulls back, face now fully flushed but not from embarrassment, not from self-consciousness.

"or i can eat you out right here?" he offers quietly, one hand on your waist as the other drifts lower, trailing up your thigh and along the hemline of your skirt. against your better judgment, your hips start to shift, chasing his touch, the sensation you know only his fingers can bring.

just then, the music coming from utahime's room pauses, plunging the apartment into a sudden silence.

choso's hand stills on your thigh; you barely breathe as you listen intently, waiting for utahime to burst through the door and discover you here in the most compromising of positions.

thankfully, it's just her switching the song. seconds later the music starts to play again and you hear her date's voice sing along, blissfully unaware of what's happening just feet away from them both.

taking that as a sign to retreat to your bedroom, you take choso's hand and guide him down the hall, single-minded in your goal.

he lets you, knowing that it will pay off.

once you're safely hidden away in your room, you move in tandem as he backs you up towards your twin bed, his lips only leaving your jawline when he needs to catch his breath.

this is going to be really fun.

before you can even repeat your warning to stay quiet, you're lying flat on your back on the mattress, your already-short skirt hiking up your thighs as you settle against the sheets.

choso grins when he sees your nipples pebble against the thin fabric of your vest. his hands trail up your body, thumbs tracing lazy circles as you wriggle to try and shimmy out of your clothes.

he doesn't rush you, though. from the look on his face, you'd guess he could just play with your tits all evening and be more than satisfied.

but you're not of the same opinion. you need his touch somewhere else, need it to the point of aching, and you tell him as much.

he's not the type to tease with words. he's quiet, deliberate, even right now -- but he doesn't need to say what he wants to do out loud. you know with just a look, the way his tongue plays with his lip piercing, the imprint of his cock through his sweats.

even though you've been in this exact situation before, you can't tear your eyes away from the sight of choso getting on his knees before you, tugging your underwear down your legs and pressing wet kisses to your sensitive inner thighs.

you almost cry out before remembering to cut yourself off. hastily covering for yourself, you start to warn him;

"we need to stay --"

"yeah, quiet. i know," he whispers with a smile, not willing to protest too much given the situation he's in now, the one he's pictured every time he's touched himself this past week, since he met you in the abandoned study closet on the third floor on saturday.

since he fucked you against the wall till tears streamed down your cheeks, until your thighs shook around his trim waist, limbs turned to jelly as he wrung orgasm after orgasm from you.

"promise?" you whisper with a little smile, knowing it won't affect your own answer.

your underwear now tossed to the side, he takes his thumb and index finger and spreads you open, the cool air over your exposed flesh making you gasp, reverent in how he looks at you.

"i'll try," comes his hushed answer, before he dips his head in to taste.

the first slide of his tongue has your breath catching in your throat, spine already arching off the bed as he moves slowly, methodically, savouring your taste before circling back on your clit, dragging the tip of his tongue over the hood.

his grip on your thighs is strong but it needs to be in order for you to stay any bit still; you squirm against him, his nails leaving crescent indentations in your skin as he keeps you steady.

at the first broken cry of his name, he stops immediately.

you let out a groan of protest, lifting your head from the pillow to further voice your grievances, only to be met with a petulant-sounding;

"you said to be quiet."

frustrated at your own words being used against you, you let your head fall back, mulling over how to reply.

utahime's music is still playing. they mightn't hear you, you're not being that loud --

but choso still hasn't picked up where he left off.

you know what he's capable of doing with that tongue, those fingers, so you throw in the towel fairly quickly.

"fine."

"use the back of your hand if you need to," he whispers before pausing, leaning over to pick up something, "or use this."

he tosses your own underwear towards you.

you grab it and throw it aside, rolling your eyes playfully.

"it hasn't come to that yet."

"still," he retorts, lowering himself down again, "it could come in handy."

"we'll - we'll see," you choke out, feeling his tongue part you again, wondering if you will actually end up need ingthat makeshift gag,

he licks and suckles, providing just the right amount of pressure as you start to grind against the wet heat of his mouth.

he knows what you need from him.

"one or two?"

you don't need to ask him to clarify. "two."

"already?"

your hand flies up to cover your mouth, pleasured mewls dying in your throat.

once it passes, you let your hands drop back to your side.

well, you could ...

you could just ...

so you do; you fist your hands in his hair, soft and silky under your touch, and answer.

"already."

you feel one of his hands release from your thighs as he starts to stroke himself, low reverberations of his groans enhancing the sensation of his tongue against you.

then the other hand drifts down your waist, hips, until two fingers prod at your entrance, your wetness coating his fingertips before he can even get inside you.

his hand moves slowly while his mouth nips and suckles, your legs spreading even further to allow him room. 

inch by inch he slips inside, meeting no resistance since you're ore than wet enough for two -- maybe even three --

he curls his fingers and you cry out his name.

he doesn't stop this time, though, too enraptured by the sight of his fingers disappearing through your swollen folds to deny himself anything.

the music next door is drowning out any sound you're making, you know it is. you don't want to stop for a moment.

you can't stop.

he pumps his fingers in and out as your hips roll against him, chasing the friction that you need as much as air right now.

you really think you might die without out.

you feel yourself pulse around him; he feels it as well, the way you contract when he hits that spot against your walls, and suctions his lips around your clit in the way he knows will have you coming for him more than once.

with his lips angled like this, you can feel the piercing as it shifts against you; the cold metal should probably feel jarring but it only adds to the sensitivity, a unique sensation that you now can only associate with him.

it's funny -- you haven't been seeing each other for long, only hooking up when you have the chance to go undetected -- but he already knows your tells, the signs that you're close, so close --

you barely hear it, the sound muffled and quiet by intention, but the feeling of him groaning your name as he licks into you is too much, too much, too intense a feeling for you to bear ....

your orgasm hits you like a crashing wave, washing over every nerve in your body as you spasm around his fingers, your limbs turning to jelly as you lose your grip on his hair, hands fumbling with the bedsheets to try to establish yourself.

it is neverending, an all-consuming sensation that lasts until he pulls his fingers out unceremoniously, aftershocks clenching around nothing.

your teary eyes open as you see what prompted his sudden movement

choso's brows are pinched together desperately, almost panicked, as he fists his cock, hips rocking rhythmically.

"you're gonna make me come ... fuck, fuck --"

with a cut-off moan he grips the base of his cock, coming over your stomach, coming ropes that reach your breasts, his head thrown back as his jaw clenches shut.

the sight is enough to prolong your own orgasm, faint ripples running through you even as choso's pleasure starts to ebb away.

"oh fuck," he groans once his cock stills, his chest rising and falling, his sweat-slick skin glistening as he collects himself. "fuck ... I'm sorry."

"don't be sorry," you grin up at him, having come to a sudden realisation. "from the sound of it ... utahime and her date just closed to front door, so ... looks like we have the place to ourselves."

"we do?" he half-pants, half-laughs. "how ... how long has it been since --"

"too long," you cut him off. "so we need to make up for lost time."

it's his turn to grin again, eyes scanning the mess he's made of your chest with a sense of pride.

"happily."

[zesmoon]

Sylus is... Sick?! [Sylus x reader]

tags: sickfic, fluff, comfort, gentle Sylus, Luke and Kieran

The impossible has happened. Mr perfect, the man who seems to never even have a hair out of place, is sick. You would've thought his Evol prevented this kind of thing, but apparently the flu is too powerful against it.

Note: Sorry, this is slightly rushed, and not as polished as I had hoped I'm a bit unwell at the moment, which is what inspired this!

You hadn't heard from him for hours.. It's normal for him to not respond occasionally, but he prioritised your texts, he always did. And he hasn't missed a single 'good morning' message since you met him, no matter what. So when you woke up to no notifications from him, you felt a bit hurt. Had you said something wrong the night before..? Your mind was racing with possibilities of why he could not be answering, constantly coming back to the same conclusion of him being mad at you. Staring down at your empty notification panel, You decided to text Luke and Kieran.

Y/n: Hey, you two, is Sylus out?

Luke: Y/n! hi!

Kieran: Haven't seen him today, why?

You sigh at the message, feeling too worried to acknowledge the greeting.

Y/n: Is he at home..?

Luke: Why are you asking?

Y/n: I haven't heard from him.. can you go and check if he's okay? I'm worried he's mad at me...

Kieran: It's normal for him to disappear like this, besides, disturbing his peace is a death wish for us...

Y/n: Please!!!!!!

Luke: ….fine...

Kieran: You're paying for our funerals, you hear me?

You sighed and placed your phone back down as the two sent a string of sad emojis. Trying to wait patiently was difficult, but this has never happened before, you've never gone a whole 8 hours without even a message explaining where he was.

Your phone dings

Kieran: He said he's fine.

Luke: and we survived! He didn't even scold us for not knocking!

You frown at the screen. He's fine? But he isn't messaging you? that's not like him.

Y/n: did he seem mad..?

Kieran: No, he seemed fine to us? Is something the matter?

Luke: You didn't get into a fight, did you?!

A few more messages ping through, but you don't acknowledge them, you cant help but get up from your couch, grabbing your shoes and coat.

Y/n: be there in 10.

You make your way quickly to Sylus' mansion. You don't even think about the risks of you running around like mad through that dangerous place, you didn't really care either. You couldn't bare going another minute without knowing what was wrong. You couldn't recall saying anything wrong, or doing anything wrong.. so why is he acting off?

You reach the door, fumbling in your coat pocket for your spare key, but the door opens up to the two masked men. Luke and Kieran looked confused as you barged in. "y/n, he seems fine!" "yeah, what's the matter?" the two bombarded you with questions as you beelined for his office, opening it to see its empty. "He's not in here?" You looked at the two, with a concerned expression, which grew worse when Luke pointed at the bedroom.

It's not like Sylus to stay in his room all day, If anything, its where he spends the least amount of time unless you're over. You hesitantly open the door, seeing a figure under the duvet, and your breath hitches in your throat. This is totally unlike him, in bed at this time..? He's definitely a night owl, but this was just weird...

"Sylus?" You announced, walking over to him, Luke and Kieran hanging by the door in case they need to intervene. You saw him laying there, awake, but his cheeks were red. He didn't speak, just reaching his hand out of the cover, waiting for you to hold it. When you held his hand, it was red hot. "Oh my gosh... You're sick..?" You look at him, with a baffled expression. "Sylus, YOU'RE sick?". You repeated the question, watching the man nod, noticing the sweat on his forehead. You shooed the twins away, and crouched by the bed.

You had to admit - it was adorable. This powerful figure, who terrified so many people, was wrapped up in bed, with a stuffy nose, shivering as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. You put your hand on his forehead, still stunned by the situation. "Oh Sy, you should've told someone.. You should've told me..." You said gently. His brows furrowed slightly. "And let someone see me in such a vulnerable state..?" He said, his usual cocky tone strained by his sore throat.

"I'm surprised you didn't even tell the twins.. Have you even eaten? or drank anything? You really should've gotten some help, have you had any medicine?" you continued on. He chuckled, squeezing your hand slightly. "I don't need to.. I'm fine.." And while you'd usually roll your eyes at his stubbornness, you just gave him a worried expression. "How are you sick..? I would've thought your evol would prevent this?". He coughed, before speaking again "I suppose certain things overpower my abilities.". "I didn't expect that... I can shoot you, and you're fine.. but you can catch the flu?" - your questioning eliciting a laugh from him.

You decide you'll stay with him until he gets better. How could you leave his stubborn man to suffer? In a way, you felt so bad for the man, the man who you usually saw as perfect, and certainly didn't think you'd see in such a position. You also knew he wouldn't let anyone else help him in a time like this.

"c'mon then, sit up." You encouraged, but he only groaned back, you pulled on his arm, "Sylus…" You said, with a more instructive tone, as he pushed himself up, his messy bed hair and flushed face sight you will never be able to forget, how cute.

"First of all, you need to drink, being dehydrated won't help at all.." You say, pushing the glass of water by his bed up to his lips, helping him drink. You then adjust the pillows, encouraging him to lay back down, as you disappear into his bathroom, firstly looking through the cabinet for any sort of medication, but of course the stubborn man only had his fancy products.. "Sy, do you not have any medicine?" you called out, and his raspy voice responded "In the drawer, sweetheart.". You searched through the drawer, which was also full of his manly products - and among them was some paracetamol and ibuprofen. perfect. You grabbed the boxes, as well as preparing a wet towel. You entered the room again, popping the medicine out of the capsules, and encouraging him to take it. "You know, I only brought the medicine for you.. how ironic." He said, as he took it. You smiled at the confession. "That is sweet, and its a good thing you had it." You responded as he laid back down, sweeping his hair away from his forehead and popping the towel on his forehead. He sighed in relief at the feeling, and then looked up at you. "Thank you, sweetheart." He said. His throat sounded so sore, you couldn't help but soften your gaze. "I must say, I'm disappointed that I'm the one getting all of this pampering.." he followed, as you rolled your eyes. "It's about time I get to be the one taking care of you, Sy." You said, laying beside him in his bed, cuddling against him. "Now, try to go to sleep, no matter if you're not tired, you need to get some rest, you hear me?" you said, partially mimicking his usual stern tone. "Yes ma'am." He said with a smirk, closing his eyes.

Thank you for reading! :)

[demiesworld]

How They React When You Fight Pt. 2 (Tokyo Revengers)

pairings: ran, rindou, sanzu, kakucho, hanma, kokonoi x reader synopsis: a continuation of my last post contents: suggestive themes (in sanzu's), violence, fighting and swearing

RAN HAITANI

Everyone and their mother knew about Ran's girlfriend. They knew of her temper, her possessiveness over Ran, and her protective mindset when it came to her boyfriend. That's why when Ran had a woman that wasn't his girlfriend flirting with him he would immediately shut them down. Sometimes Rindou would do it for him too when given the opportunity on his behalf. Everyone knew when it came to Y/N's man don't fuck with him. Not unless you want to end up in a hospital bed.

Ran was also possessive over his girlfriend too. Maybe that's why they clicked, they both had that "You're mine and I'm yours, can't nobody fuck with us" mindset. He loved her to death.

He was at the club he and Rindou operated, seated in a booth with Kokonoi, Kakucho, and Takeomi. Rindou went off to the restroom and you were at the bar ordering more drinks for the table you were at with your boyfriend and his comrades. Apparently this was the perfect opportunity for some broad to slither into the booth and try to steal your man.

As the woman joined and smiled lustfully at Ran, Kakucho and Kokonoi shared a look. Takeomi grinned knowing what was going to come. As for Ran he just sat there not responding to the woman when she tucked her hair over her shoulder and had the audacity to put her chapped nail polished fingers on Ran's tie.

"So what do you think, handsome? Do you want to come home with me?" She coos. Not knowing that you were returning with a tray of shots in your hands.

"He won't be going anywhere with you, bitch." She jumped when she heard your venomous voice and looked at you scared. "You got five seconds to get your grimy fingers off of my man. Five,"

She retracted her hand away from Ran, who was smirking in amusement at the situation, and scooted away from him. "No, no you got it all wrong-"

You walked around the side of the table and snatched up the woman by her hair. Pulling her away from your boyfriend and dragging her out of the booth. She was screaming for help, "No don't scream now bitch, you wanna go touch on someone's man do it, but it ain't gonna be mine!" You tossed her into the crowd of dancers like she was yesterday's trash.

Ran chuckled, leaning over to grab a shot of liquor and manspread on the sofa, "That's my girl, come sit on my lap princess."

RINDOU HAITANI

Rindou knew you could fight before you two started dating, which is why when you two would have arguments he never let you or him go to bed angry. If there's one thing Rindou loves more than his older brother it's you and your relationship. He wouldn't do anything to cause trouble between the two of you.

You were spending time with your boyfriend at an arcade when his phone continuously was getting spammed with phone calls. The first few rings you didn't pay it no mind, but after the umpteenth ring you grew annoyed. You stopped playing the virtual hockey game with Rindou and turned to him. "Who is calling you?"

"I don't know! Must be one of the guys, just ignore it." He tells you, but you knew it wasn't just one of the guys. Your eyes narrowed at Rindou and you folded your arms. "Show me your phone." Rindou sighed, "Y/N…"

"Phone!" You held out your hand and he gave it to you. You unlocked it and saw an unknown number calling him again. Your eyes widened when you saw who's number it was. It was your best friend. "Why the fuck is Y/F/N calling you?"

"I don't know! She's been calling me for a week and I sent her a message saying to leave me alone!"

"That doesn't answer my question, you dumbass!" The phone rang again and this time you answered it, but held the phone up to your boyfriend's ear. "Talk to her."

"Babe- hello? Oh hey Y/F/N." Rindou shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes averting your glare. When your friend asked where he was you told him to say he was at the arcade and he was alone. "Tell her to meet you up here." You said and he repeated it to her. Your friend, stupidly agreed to meet him up there and you two went outside waiting for her.

You sat on a bench with a newspaper in front of you covering your face and Rindou stood in front of the entrance of the arcade with his hands in his pockets. Just then your friend showed up beaming at your boyfriend and waving at him. "Hey there Rinnie! I see Y/N is not here with you today. What happened?"

"Oh, um she's just not feeling good right now." He swallowed feeling guilty that he was setting her up for her demise. Before your friend could answer you shot up from your seat and tossed the newspaper away. "Trying to talk to my man behind my back huh? Really Y/F/N?"

She jolted, taking a step back and smiled sheepishly. "Y-Y/N, I didn't know you were here!" You stomped closer to her and yelled, "Yeah because you were too busy trying to get," your hand went over your head and slapped her across her face. "dick from my boyfriend!" The impact of the slap sent her on the ground, holding her cheek and scattering to get away from you. "The fuck are you looking at slut?! Go!" Your now ex-friend scrambled to her feet and ran away from you and Rindou still holding her cheek.

You turn your attention to your boyfriend, "And you, if something like this happens again and you don't tell me, your ass is going to be just like her dickless."

Rindou nodded his head stiffly, he knew you weren't playing either this time.

SANZU HARUCHIYO

"Oh Y/N… my pretty angel, the most beautiful girl in the world, my cherry pie, the apple of my-"

"Who is it that I have to fight now, Sanzu?" You deadpanned.

Your lover rested his chin in his hands as he looked at you from across the table. You were preoccupied with arranging a dinner for the weekend for you and him before he interrupted. Sanzu slid his phone across the table, a picture of a woman with short blue hair. His finger tapped on her face, "Her. She's a nuisance to me, and she shows up at the bar whenever I'm with the guys desperately trying to get my number." He pouts like a child, then starts to smile wickedly, "I need for you to teach her a lesson for me please."

"If I teach her a lesson what sort of reward will I be getting?"

Sanzu leans across the table and sweetly kisses your lips. "You'll get to do that thing you always wanted to do to me." Your face heats up for a moment and you nod your head agreeing to his terms.

That's how you find yourself in the parking lot of the local bar fighting with the woman. Sanzu stood by watching as you had her against a car and were kicking her in her stomach. He licked his lips at the sight of blood trickling from the woman's head when you had hit her with a steel pipe earlier. The sounds of her pathetic groans for you to stop were arousing to him.

"Don't. You. Ever. Look. At. Him. Again." you say as you finish your final kick with your steel-toed boot colliding with her face. She slumped forward coughing out blood and weakly told you she won't look at him again. Satisfied with your results of the fight you walked away from her and locked your arms with Sanzu.

"Oh, princess that was so hot of you to do that for me." Sanzu croons, as he opens the door for you to enter the car. You thank him and watches as he shuts your passenger door and goes to enter on the driver's side. "The pleasure is all mine, princess, and speaking of pleasure," your cheeks are squished in between his fingers as he leans over the center console to kiss your lips.

Sanzu nibbles at your bottom lip with his teeth, tugging at the flesh as he pulls away. "I hope that what you do to me tonight really pleases me."

SHUJI HANMA

"You know when you said we were going out to have fun," you start just before a girl lunges for you and you punch her in the stomach. She groans in pain from the impact, giving you the chance to elbow her on the top of her head knocking her down. "I didn't think fighting a group of coeds would be it."

Hanma slugs a guy in the face just as he charges towards him. A manic laugh leaving from his mouth when his fist collided with the man's cheek. He felt the bones of his opponent's face crack upon the blow. "Aha! Then what did you think we're going to do baby?"

You shrug your shoulders, and reply back, "I don't know maybe terrorize the convenience store owner again." You duck when a girl swings a bat at your head, narrowly missing it. You dodge her swings and block another attempted hit with your arm. It hurt like hell, but you fought through the pain and kicked the girl in her groin. She loosens her grip on the bat and you snatch it from her hands, bashing the end of it at her skull. From the corner of your eye you saw a guy heading towards Hanma. "At your 6 babe!"

Hanma laughs boisterously, he blocks the man's jab and snatches him by his nose. "Come on baby! I thought you knew me better than that!" The crazed smile of his never once falters from his face as he lifts the guy by his nose and throws him on the ground. "Surely this is more thrilling!" He stands above the man, stomping at his head with his heavy feet. The sounds of bones cracking encourage Hanma to further disfigure the man underneath him.

You look around at the several bodies scattered in the alleyway, unmoving bodies of both male and female on the ground. Hanma stops stomping the man's head in once he sees his teeth caving in. You walk towards your boyfriend holding the arm that had blocked the hit earlier. "I think they're all done for Shuji. Let's go."

Hanma smiles at you and tosses his arm over your shoulders leading you out of the alleyway. "You got hurt baby," you scoff and turn your head away from his gaze. "It's nothing that a little ice won't fix." You say to him, and smirk, "Besides I had some fun back there."

His eyes brightened as you two made it to his bike and hopped on the ride, "Great~ Would you do it again for me, baby?"

"Absolutely not."

Cue Hanma pouting.

KOKONOI HAJIME

For him it was never easy dealing with your feisty attitude and short temper. He didn't know how to control you, and frankly didn't want to even do it. He was afraid he'd wind up at the end of a closed fist to his face if he were to defy or deny you of anything. If you told him to jump he would ask you how high. That's how committed he was to not pissing you off.

He felt pity for those who fought with you because they would end up seriously hurt. He remembered the one time a girl was picking on him at a party. She was calling him lizard man because of his habit of sticking out his tongue. What really ticked him off was when she went up to him, flicked his nose, and called him a pussy. She was a bold woman. He will give her credit for that.

If only she knew just who she was fucking with. The words that the girl said to him went through the grapevine to you at the party. "Where is she?" you said as you push through people to reach your boyfriend. Koko stood there looking scared, meanwhile Ran answered the question for you. He pointed his finger at the entrance of the club, "She just went outside for a smoke."

"Y/N wait!" Koko called out but it was too late. You were already running out of the club to go and get the girl. "Shit, Ran why did you tell her where she was!" Koko shouted to the purple-haired man, Ran shrugged his shoulders. "I wanna see a cat fight." Koko scoffs at him and leaves to go stop you from fighting with the girl. The last thing he needed was you in jail tonight.

Meanwhile you were outside searching for the girl. As you rounded the corner you saw the girl smoking a cigarette underneath a lamp pole. "Hey, bitch!" You shout, and slide your heel off of your feet. "You got some nerve to be talking about my boyfriend with those grandma titties you got!"

She gasped and flicked her cigarette away, "Excuse me," You grinned at her and held your shoe tighter in your hand. "You heard me!" She went to say something else, but you had enough of the talking. Using the heel in your right hand you whacked her with the steel tip end of the heel, successfully smashing her temple with it. You whacked her with it again on the other side of her head. "I'm not done with you bitch," You pulled her by her hair and started punching her on the top of her head. Little whimpers came from the woman and she tried to defend herself by hitting you in your stomach. "You crazy fucking slut!" She shouts.

Koko showed up outside with Ran, Kakucho, Rindou and Sanzu behind him. He saw you about to pull your killer move on the woman and immediately he charged to stop you. "No!" he cried as he tackled you to the ground; you both grunt at the impact. "Y/N are you crazy?! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

You thrashed in his hold, "Get off of me Koko!" you sneered.

"Hell no, I just paid for your nails and I'd be damned if you're gonna fuck them up by fighting some whore!"

And that is why Koko tells people who talk ill about him, "My girlfriend isn't afraid to do jail time over you."

HITTO KAKUCHO

If there was one word to describe Kakucho, it would be his undying loyalty for those he grew to love. He was loyal to Izana, his closest friend until his untimely passing, and he was just as loyal to you, his girlfriend. Never did Kakucho complain about you to anyone or talked about you in vain behind your back. He respected you just as much as you respected him.

Though he never would have guessed how protective you were over him until the incident at the park happened. It was on a late, cool night when he was at home polishing the magazine of his gun and he heard rapid heavy knocks on his door. He stopped what he was doing and went to answer it. As soon as he pulled the door open he saw the sight of one of your friends. “Y/F/N? What are you doing here this late?” He asked, and she shook her head. “I can’t explain to you, but you gotta come with me Y/N is in danger!”

The second your name was mentioned, Kakucho quickly snatched his house keys and locked his door before following your friend. She led him to a park that was just a few blocks out of his home and there he saw you fighting two men. Scattered on the ground were incapacitated men, and Kakucho believed you must have been the cause of that. “Y/N,” he whispered, as he stopped in his tracks and stood there in a trance.

You fought so elegantly, yet with a vengeance in your hits. You were dodging hits, blocking punches with your arms, and serving strong kicks to the opponents abdomen. When one of them picked up a bat to swing it at your head, that’s when Kakucho snapped out of his trance and started to run towards the man. “Y/N!” he cries. Everything seems to move in slow motion for him. Kakucho intercepted the melee attack with his hands grasping the bat and halting it from striking you.

You gasp, “Kakucho!” the guy in front of you tried punching you but you blocked it and swung your left fist up to his chin. The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he stumbled on his feet. “Bastard!” You stood there as he fell backwards, he was out. Your attention went to your boyfriend, looking at him worriedly as he used his strength to push the man away from you. His jaw clenched, arms straining to stop the attacker from hurting you or him. “I won’t let you touch her, you piece of shit.”

Just then you appeared from behind the man, pulling him into a chokehold. He loosened his grip on the bat and Kakucho took it away from him, tossing it away from his grasp. The man gasped for air, his eyes bulging from his head as you held him there. “Y/N,” Kakucho began, your cold eyes met his heterochromatic ones, “What are you doing here? Why are you doing this?”

“These guys were talking crap about you Kakucho. They mentioned Izana’s death, they said they were glad he died because he was nothing but a pathetic leader.” Kakucho’s breath hitched as he looked down at the faces of the men surrounding him. He recognized them as former Tenjiku members. He swallowed, as distraught as he was right now he couldn’t let you do this. “You don’t have to do this Y/N, this isn’t what I want you to do.”

You look at the man still struggling to break free from your deathly hold. Your eyes were unreadable and void of emotion. Kakucho couldn’t guess what you were going to do next. “Let him go, please.” You shook your head at your boyfriend. “Please Y/N.” Suddenly he fell to his knees and you sucked in a sharp breath. “Release him.”

With your body trembling you let the man go and he collapsed to his knees before Kakucho. He hunched over gasping for air to enter his lungs. Your boyfriend stood to his full height, his eyes glaring down at the man at his feet. “You will thank me for telling her to stop.” He then looked up at you, “I understand what you were trying to do, but that doesn’t mean you have to kill these traitors.” You took a step forward, stepping over the hunched form of the man, and wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s body.

Kakucho’s strong arms held you close to him, his warm hands caressing your back up and down in gentle strokes. His lips ghosted over your ear, “I love you Y/N.”

That’s how he found out that you were the one for him. His undying loyalty for you and your never-ending love for him.

a/n: ugh i might have did word vomit with kakucho’s! but i hope you enjoy!

[ms--lobotomy]

platonic malcador x reader??? he's such a girldad and we could be some imperial agent or smthn I don't really mind as long as I get that SWEET SWEET cute grandpa moments bc I know you will always cook

Howdy! Sorry this one's so late, I was finishing my degree so requests kind of fell off the face of the earth for a bit. I'll try to get a good portion of them done, though! Enjoy!

Summary: Talking shit with your honorary girldad Malcador

Word Count: 744

Content Warnings: No clear base coat for doing nails, sue me. Implied malcemps, if you squint, and also the implication that reader has sister(s).

Image Credit: @squishyowl

It wasn't often that you got to take some time for yourselves. But your particular order of inquisitors had a meeting today, and you were going to look good for it. So you'd excused yourself to your temporary quarters, sent a quick vox message to your friend, and waited on a response as you threw on whatever caught your eye and arranged a few colors of nail polish for the two of you to choose from.

Hey Malc, I have a bit of time before the meeting today. Wanna do our nails? Cool. Thanks. You signed off with your name, sinking back into your chair and sitting there for a second.

The walls felt like they were closing in on you. Sure, these were temporary quarters, but this room felt more like a closet than a temporary accommodation. You were hunched over the dresser, fixing your hair when you heard a knock at the door. Your head snapped around. A yawn was audible through the door, and you grinned.

"I haven't got all day," he said. You could hear the smile in his voice as you headed over to the door, opening it with a slight creak. His breathing was loud, but nothing out of the ordinary for him, and he carried a stunningly large staff. It almost didn't fit through the door, but as he made his way in, he made it work.

"Malc!" you exclaimed. "Come in, if you can fit-"

"This used to be a closet," he mumbled. He made his way to the chair that you'd set out for him, something that much mismatched the one you had taken for yourself. "Looks like they're putting people just anywhere these days."

"Oh," you said. If you were friends with the Sigilite, you didn't want to know how the others of your order were rooming. You blotted the thought out of your head, and turned to the set of nail polish you'd set out.

"So we have green, and teal, and..."

"Green."

You blinked. You ran a finger over the crimson red nail polish, but his eyes were set on the cool green polish at the very front of the row.

"Green it is," you said, as you slid the green over to him and took the red for yourself.

"No, no, I want to do each other's," he said. There was a softness to his voice, one that was always reserved for private interactions between the two of you.

"Sure!" you exclaimed, switching the red and the green before laying down some paper towels to catch any overflow. He watched with bemusement as you hurriedly took out the green polish and rolled up his sleeves, placing his bony hands against the paper towels.

"What's the rush?" he asked as you started to paint the first stripe onto them.

"Rush?" you asked. "Weren't you the one who said you didn't have all day or something?"

Malcador sat back in his chair. Despite it being the sturdier option, it made a slight creaking noise. "I did," he said, his eyes closing as you worked with the first layer. "I've just never had any daughters, is all."

You paused for a second before continuing to swipe color across his fingernails. "No daughters?" you asked, looking up at him incredulously. "You're Perpetual, right? You've had all the time in the world to... uh..." you trailed off before clearing your throat. "My bad."

He smiled a wry smile. "You could say the Primarchs were partially my doing, yes," he said. "I wanted girls, you see. Much less arguing, and activities like this are more likely to be in the picture."

"Less arguing?" you smirked before bursting into full on laughter. "Clearly you never grew up with any sisters." You tilted the paper towel a little bit as you moved onto his right hand, painting it just as carefully as you'd painted his left. Silence filled the room for a moment before he spoke again.

"None of the Primarchs ever did my nails," he said with a hint of playful spite to his voice. "Even the ones we found early. Horus was always too important for things like this."

"Horus, huh?" you asked before the next words flew out of your mouth without much thought. "Guess I'm just better than him."

"Be careful saying that," he replied as you finished his pinky. "But do say that in front of him. I want to know how it goes."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[bae04xx]

Heyyy I just saw it post and like I couldn't resist sending in an ask (or request if you will)!! If you want to could you write a bill cipher (yes ik💀) x reader where he and the reader are dating but get into an argument and he just says/does sum really mean stuff?? Fluff ending tho please I can't take only angst lmao, for the reader i would pref a Fem reader but gn is fine to!! Also for bill could he be in his triangle form?? (I'm so sorry if this is a long ask💀💀) but yeah that's it!!

One last thing if you don't mind could I be the 😻 anon so like if I send a ask/message I will add that and yk its me!!

-😻

hey ofc, sorry don’t check my tumblr that often! i would love to :)

thanks 😻 anon :)

bill cipher x fem! reader

angst and fluff 🖤☁️

i grabbed my bags out of my car boot, harshly gripping them between my fingers, which the knuckles of began to loose their colour from the chill in the air. after shutting the car doors and locking it up i begin storming down the pebbled drive towards my little cottage of a home. i sigh as i drop my bags and twist the key into the lock. i walk into the warmth of my house- silence greets me. after a full day at work, a very busy day might i add, then running about 5 errands i expect my home to be as i left it, cleaned to perfection. my eyes squint at the crumbs left all over hallway’s floor, i walk through them and set my bags onto the kitchen’s table- only to see condiments and dirty dishes scattered on the counters.

i quickly put my food shopping away, then hastily clean the house top to bottom, from hoovering to polishing to mopping to cleaning all of his dirty clothes because god forbid he contribute anything to this house and take any weight off my already drowning shoulders. i bury my face into my hands and curl up on my sofa, after sitting like this for a few minutes i decide to sit up and distract myself, flipping through a few tv channels to find a decent one.

i wonder why i’m even here, i was only meant to be in gravity falls temporarily, after my mother decided i was too much for her, she shipped me off to live with my aunt for the summer- aunty suz, or as the locals called her, lazy suzan. she ran a diner, which i helped out with as my keep, and there i met the twins. i felt like mable understood me, she really helped me deal with my mental health and overcome it all. she was my bestfriend- until i fell for him. i made the stupid mistake of choosing bill cipher, a living breathing demon, over my bestfriend. and now i’m stuck in this hell hole- gravity falls.

“loving boyfriend my ass..” i mumbled, throwing the tv remote to the ground in frustration.

“what about me were you saying, peach?” he smirks, materialising out of no where, with a snarky expression.

“what the fuck have you been doing all day cipher? i work my ass off and i come home to the house a state?” i plead, standing up to be someone as tall as the floating figure.

“woah woah woah, don’t be so aggressive peach, calm it and remember who you’re speaking to,” he warns, i laugh at him.

“i do everything for you cipher, i have up my life for you and this is the thanks i get? no support, messing with my home and threats? i have every right to be angry at you, you always do this!”

“do what exactly, peach?” his eyes narrow at me, staring me down.

“fuck me over! you expect to be fed, even though you don’t need to eat and can make anything you want appear but no- i have to supply it for you, to clean in a clean house but it’s fine for you to constantly mess it up, and to leave for days at a time with no warning and then just appear back and expect me to be fine? and treat me like shit!”

“i can do whatever the fuck i want peach, whatever i want-“ he grabs me by the chin, “you listen to me, you’re a puppet in my hands, you’re lucky i’m even giving the time of day. you’re only around because i like you, and you’re so lucky i like you because do you wanna know what would happen if i didn’t?”

…

“you’d be dead, rotting your own personal hell. so show me a little respect? don’t forget your place.”

i push myself away from him, i regretfully look in my eyes, i don’t know what to do, so i just stand there, scared, confused, anxious yet angry.

“i’m going, don’t try and get in my head, i don’t want you there.” i announce, before storming off and grabbing my handbag.

“i’ll never get out of your head, you belong to me remember, you’re nothing without me.” he announced, as though he’s just next to me but he isn’t. i’m in the car, applying as much pressure to the accelerator as i can- and he’s no where near me. he’s in my fucking head again. i have no space, no boundaries, i’m not just me, i’m him too- and i have no choice. i can’t escape.

i break as hard as i can, in the middle of a road, no cars were within a mile radius of me, perks of living i. a quiet town. i scream, a blood curdling scream, my nails clawing into my h/c, tears stream out of my eyes. sobbing uncontrollably i feel an arm snake around me, pulling me close.

he’s shushing me, trying to calm me down as a shriek and cry into his chest, not sure if i should push him away or accept him embrace. his boney hands stroke my h/c and instantly calms me, not by my choice though- the bastard is in my head again.

“i’ve given everything for you bill.” i state, wiping my tears away, a dead look in my eyes.

“i’m sorry peach,” he hugs me tightly, “i know i’m shitty, but i’m so sorry.”

and he just holds me, let’s me stay in his arms, i focus on my breathing, as he plays with my hair, he whispers a small ‘i love you’ in my ear, i hum back to him, too exhausted to process what’s really happened.

i wake up in my bed, changed into my favourite fleecy pyjamas, a very worried demon next to me.

i yawn, stretching my arms up, turning to him i say “and how did i get here?” my voice a little gruff from sleepiness.

“you don’t think i was going to let you sleep in the car do you? what kinda demon do you think i am?” he replied in his usually snarky yet flirtatious voice.

“ah yes sorry, you’re such the gentleman- how could i forget,” i giggle back at him before rolling away to the other side of the bed.

“i really am sorry y/n, i’m gonna try more, for you peach,”

“i love you bill,”

“i love you more peach,”

a comfortable silence surrounds us, i sigh before deciding to get up, yet just as a i begin to take the duvet off me i get it pulled start back on.

“what’re you thinking for breakfast peach? my treat, you just stay snuggled up in bed,”

“i bought some croissants yesterday, they’re in the cupboard,” i muse, before grabbing my book off the bedside table. bill let’s out a laugh.

“my treat, you just wait and see what i’ve got planned peach!”

[be-missed]

Not Strong Enough (Chap 5)

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

(pictures not mine)

Summary: Jenna was visiting her mom in the hospital to drop off the food that will be eaten for the hospital party, but she met a resident surgeon and she thought "God forbid I ran into an accident, but I want her to open me and stitch me up." While the surgeon tries her best to keep her fan girling low-key.

Warning: curse words.

A/N: 5th chapter, thank you for waiting. I'll be using a different POV her, please tell me if this is better or no. Also, I think if I start using this POV, y'all need to be guessing what's inside of Jenna's (in the story) mind.

Masterlist

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | Chap 6

______________________________________________________________

Chap 5

"Hey, thanks for today, I really enjoyed the concert. See you around!"

You kept on reading the last text message that Jenna sent you after the concert. In the past few days, you are trying to keep your distance from the girl that you have been liking for some quite time now. After the concert, listening to the songs, it feels like you are having a revelation; you can't and you won't be the love of her life you thought.

So what you did was to be more productive than you are to stop yourself from thinking of the other girl and checking your phone. In the hospital when Jenna visits, you try to lessen your interaction and dismisses her telling that you are busy and needed in the surgery room. But one time, Jenna caught you seating in the chairs and watching a video on your phone. You didn't know that she'll go visit and unfortunately she asked around and asked what time is your break.

You were watching Melissa Barrera's 'Get To Bed With Me' YouTube video for Harper's Bazaar. "So, you are on a break, right?" You heard from your side and that got you surprised, it is Jenna's voice and you answered "Hey, I didn't know you were coming." and she chuckles and said "I came to surprise you, you were always on the go when I visit" she said and sat beside you.

You look at her whole figure intently, nothing has change, still the same chipped nail polish from the concert, same chuck taylors that she loves to wear, her headphone hanging around her neck, that necklace she wears sometimes when she is in the mood and a few rings.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry... there's a lot that's been going around here" you said with a sad smile and Jenna answered "No worries, I'm just glad I get to talk to you." and smiled at you.

Why does she need to smile like you are the softest thing that she have ever seen. "So, I just noticed, I mean I don't want to assume, because like, you know, it's not good, but I would like t you know, ask maybe, or like no, I've been meaning to tell you-" Jenna started to rumble but you held her hand and squeezed it and said "Hey you're rambling, it's ok breathe."

"Okay, I noticed that you are kinda ignoring me. You haven't replied to my message last last week, you have been ignoring me when I go here, I mean yes, we talk in facetime but you end it so quickly. I just... I miss you." Those words came out of Jenna's mouth.

She misses you. SHE MISSES YOU.

"Oh..." You started "I'm sorry if you feel like that, but I have been really really busy." You ended. But you feel like Jenna knows that you are lying to her.

"Sure, I mean, I'm sorry to bother you." Jenna said and went up to stand but you stopped her "Hey, please don't think that you're bothering me, that can never happen" and you smiled at her.

"Okay..." Jenna said and accepted your answer "So, do you have any plans for Halloween?" she asked and you answered "Yes, actually My friends and I are having a Halloween Party, just the four of us since we can't handle big events" and ended with a laugh.

"That sounds really nice, what are you dressing up?" Jenna asked you with such curiosity and you answered "Well, I'll be dressing up as Mavis from Hotel Transylvania."

Jenna took a mental note on that. The both of you heard a blaring sound and a voice said "Code Blue" and that alerted you.

"Hey, I'll be calling you, I am needed, duty calls." You said and kissed Jenna's cheeks and hugs her and you bolted out.

---

"Y/N please stop walking around, please" Ava stated while you pace around the break room with you friends watching you like you were in a loop. Beatrice enters the room, kissed her wife and looked at you weirdly.

"What is happening here?" Bea asked and her wife answered, "Well your friend here kissed her little princess, IN THE CHEEK." Ava exaggerated the last words that made Bea chuckle and said "Wow, a kiss on the cheek made you like that, how about when you get to kiss her." and the wives made fun of you that made you stop from pacing.

"GUYS! This isn't even funny!" You said that made the both of them laugh even more, "Chill down Y/N, girl friends kiss each other in the cheek." Beatrice emphasize the space between girl and friends "And please calm your thoughts down, try to stay in the present and no overthink yeah." Beatrice added.

"Okay, sure sure, I will try" you sat beside them and drink your water.

"So are you ready for our Halloween Party?" Ava asked and you just nodded "Okay, I can't wait to see you in your costume."

---

"TRICK OR TREAT" Those are the three words that the four of them hearing while they are having a dinner and playing monopoly.

"Damn, it's so late and there are kids outside." Ava stated as you went up and opened the door to give them candies and give them compliments for the effort that they did for their costume.

As you take your seat again "You can't blame them. I'd be walking the whole neighborhood just to get lots of candies" and rolled the dice, you moved your character that landed on boardwalk. You hollered and celebrated as you got the most expensive property in the game.

"That's not fair Y/N, you need to leave some property for us." Camila exclaimed while pouting like a little kid, "Oh stop it, you almost owned all of the land on the other side."

Beatrice gave you a house and the card for the boardwalk. Another knock on the door and a "Trick or Treat" can be heard, with a happy feeling, knowing that you'll be crashing Ava and Camila in the game, you happily get the bucket of candy and opened the door, and it stunned you.

Jenna was the one that is in front of the door, with her little cousins.

As you scanned her face, you could also see a surprised look, she probably doesn't assume that you will be the one opening the door and will be giving them the treats.

"Hey..." you said with the brightest smile, feeling like a fucking winner even if the game hasn't ended, but looking at Jenna with her orange long sleeve under a yellow jersey T-shirt, cargo shirt, and on her adidas rubber shoes. You intake in everything that is on her and she replied back with a smirk on her face "Hey back to you beautiful."

"Can I get my candies now?" You hear a littlw voice and you looked down and answered "Sure sweetie, here get anything you want" and almost gave all of the candies to Jenna's cousin.

"Whoa there, that's a lot for you miss." Jenna exclaimed seeing that you almost empty the candy bucket that you have.

"Didn't know you live around our block?" Jenna said and you answered "Oh no, this is not mine, this is actually where Ava and Beatrice lives" and scratched your head, "You wanna join our party?" you asked Jenna and she answered "Oh I would like to, but as you can see I'm tasked to bring the kids to trick or treat"

That made you sad because you won't be hanging with Jenna.

"But... I can come after we round the whole block if that's alright?" She asked and that made you smile and you answered "Sure, that's great" and you watched them walking away. The both of you shared a small wave.

As you went back to the table, you said to the group " I hope it's okay that I invited someone later?" and that made them look at you "It's just Jenna, so I hope you don't mind?"

"Wow, so now you got the guts to invite her huh? But yeah, it's okay for me, how about you my love?" Bea said and Ava nodded because her mouth is currently full with m&m.

"It's about damn time I get to meet her. I'll show her how I fucking nailed Wednesday's dance" Camila exclaimed and both you and Beatrice said "Please no."

---

An hour passed and the four of you are just watching a horror film when the doorbell rang. When you opened the door, you saw Jenna standing with a wine on her hand.

"Hey you didn't need to bring something" you said and Jenna answered "I think it's good to impress your friends" and the both of you entered the living room that made the other three stare at you.

Beatrice paused the movie and Camila said "Wow, you got your whole costume planned huh?" and that made you look at her questionly.

You then scanned Jenna's costume, orange long sleeves under a yellow jersey T-Shirt, a cargo short, and a rubber shoes. That's where it clicked, SHE WAS DRESS AS JOHNNY, Mavis' husband.

"Surprise" Jenna said in a little voice and looked at you worriedly.

You bit your lips and said "Well good to see you husband." You kissed her cheeks again and pull her to the sofa to the spot where you were seated earlier and the movie continued.

"I hope it's okay" Jenna whispered and that made you look at her, you were so close to her face, the lights of the TV illuminated her face, and that just took your breath away.

"What do you mean?" You asked, a bit of perplexed on what she's asking. "I dressed up as Johnny" she said.

You thought, why would she feel sorry for dressing up as your husband, as Mavis' husband? Because what she just did for her costume, being in a couple costume with you, sent you heart beating impossibly fast that you fear it will just stop and Jenna will be seeing you body lying on the floor while your three friends are trying to perform a cpr on you.

"No worries, I kinda like how you played it off, it looks good on you." You said and if the lights were on, you will notice how the blush on Jenna's face creeps in. "You are beautiful as well Y/N" Jenna said.

"Can we please now watch" Camila said to the both of you because she is just literally seating close to the both of you, which made the both of you said your apologise quietly and sat comfortably beside each other.

The night went on, and the five of you finished two movies. Beatrice and Ava are now cleaning the living room while you clean the dining room which leaves Camila and Jenna in the living room.

Camila broke the silence and said "I really liked you on Wednesday." and that made Jenna smile and said a thank you, Camila then continued "You know, if I may, I can show you how I perfected the dance you did in the ball" Camila stands up in the middle of the living room and within a second you tackled Camila into the floor, not wanting to make Jenna feel uncomfortable since you have watched a lot of her interviews about the Wednesday dance and also you are concerned about your friend who can't really dance to save her life.

"WHAT THE FUCK Y/N" Camila exclaimed and pushed you off of her "I'm sorry, I just missed you" you answered while you are still lying on the floor.

Jenna went to you and helped you up "Are you okay?" she asked and you just nodded.

"That was not fair Y/N, I was about to show Jenna my dancing skills" Camila said with a pout on her lips, and that just made you giggle.

Jenna buts in and said "Maybe you can show me next time when we meet each other again."

But that just made your head shakes for a no, earning a few "no" that can be heard from Bea and Ava.

Finishing up and gathering your things, you said your goodbye to Ava, Bea, and Camila. Jenna by your side walking towards the street.

"Thanks for inviting me tonight" Jenna said kicking stones that got in her way.

You looked at her like a little kid, thinking it was fun to see her like this, enjoying herself and being young & free. "No problem, I love having you around and the girls have been wanting to meet you since they only got to greet you in the hospital" you said.

"Really? I'm glad to hear that. I also enjoyed spending time with them" She said.

Walking a few more streets and you were nearing Jenna's house. No small talks were made, only the noise of the neighborhood can be heard and your small hums.

Jenna the breaks the silence "I just noticed that you always invite me to do something while I just go and say yes."

"Well, I like hanging out with you" you answered, because it is true. You know for yourself that even if you don't have any feelings for Jenna, you would enjoy her company.

"How about if you come to our Family dinner next time, sounds good?" Jenna suggested and it surprised you. How come you got invited to a Family Dinner and that made you super shy because you will gonna be surrounded with Jenna's family and you were scared that they will not like you. But then you reminded yourself to calm down and live on the now.

"Uhmm sure, if that's okay with your family, I don't want to intrude" you answered and Jenna smiled and said "Oh trust me they would love you there, my mom was also planning in inviting you, she said you are like a daughter to her"

Wow, Natalie has plans on inviting you, that was the first time you heard that. You know that you and Natalie have this bond and you feel so treasured and loved, thinking that Natalie thought of you more like her daughter.

Stepping in front of the Ortega's front door, you and Jenna faced each other earning a sweet smile on both of your faces.

"Thank you for tonight" Jenna said.

That moment, this moment, you were so sure that you wanted to kiss Jenna, you are thinking, you have stopped yourself many times to not kiss her so maybe this is a good chance to let go and just kiss her. Live on the now, you think. Your heart beating loud and you try to block the negative thoughts.

So one of your hand went into Jenna's side, you were slowly leaning in, waiting for a movement from the other girl to pull away and you felt none, so you persisted and you felt that Jenna was also leaning in, placing her hands into your shoulder.

A flashing of lights and a honk is heard that broke you apart. The windows rolled down and you saw Jenna's dad waving, getting down the car and going towards the both of you.

"Hey girls, hope I'm not interrupting something?" said and hugged Jenna and looked at you.

You introduced yourself "Good evening Sir, I'M Y/N, Jenna's friend and Natalie's co-worker.' and stretched your hand to shake his hand which he did shake and exclaimed "So you are who's Jenna is talking about, huh?"

Jenna nudged her father "Dad, please stop" which made her father laugh and said "Well, if you are hungry you can go inside and dig in." and leave the both of you outside again.

You broke the silence and said "Well, I'm gonna go home" you take Jenna's hand and kissed the back of it, "Good night my husband" You said with a teasing smile referring to Jenna's costume and you started to walk down their front yard.

Jenna then said "Good night to you my wife, call me when you're home" and blow you a kiss which you catch and kept it in your pocket that made Jenna laugh.

And that maybe was the greatest Halloween that you could have ever have in you whole life.

______________________________________________________________

Chap 6

A/N: an update, hope this was good. Thanks for reading!

[f4c4r]

The best way to surprise a Man is to listen to Him

There have been posts by Dominant Men that get some females sizzling. she reads His words and craves to do 'that' for her Man, so she asks this Man what she can do to surprise her Man and show her inferiority.

Not all Men like the same things.

Again, not all Men like the same things. One of the biggest problems today is everyone wants everything instantly. I understand she wants to please the Man. she also wants to spice things up for herself, after all she was the one reading these posts and getting turned on by them. What I know about her when I read these messages is, she doesn't know the Man in her life at all. Either they have never had a conversation about what sexually turns them on or He's told her in different ways but she hasn't listened.

If the Man in your life has never once shown any interest in kinky, raunchy sex and you take advice from a Man on the internet who is very experienced in just that sort of thing, you run the very real risk of losing the Man. He might get really turned on by the sudden surprise or He might be shocked and a little repulsed because He had a completely different image of you in His head.

If you really want to surprise Him, there is a much better way but it is going to take time.

The absolutely best way to surprise a Man is to be consistent with your service and polish your performance. This means you are going to have to sit down and have an honest talk with Him about what He wants. What turns Him on. And listen. Don't just hear, listen.

What most females are turned on by is not the specific scenario in their mind, but particular parts of it. The way He is commanding. How she feels dominated and without any control. Being at His mercy. Being forced to do things that embarrass or humiliate her. It doesn't matter if she's a naughty school girl or a runaway teen caught by cops or a secretary bad at typing or a kidnapped bimbo princess, the end result is the same. And what she wants most is for Him to be fully into it as well. You only get Him being fully into it if you know what He wants.

The best way to really surprise Him is to do as instructed, consistently. Greet Him the way He likes, every time He comes home. Serve His food or beverage the way He likes, the same way every time. If He has given a sequence of gestures or moves to be done as you serve Him, practice, practice, practice until performing these tasks are like breathing to you. If He wans a bimbo, study bimbos until you are the absolute bestest bimbo that ever was!

All Men are different and want different things, but if you ask most Men They will tell you fulfilling Their instructions consistently and going over the top to perform tasks better than any other female He knows, is what they want most from you.

[mintharabaenrelore]

The Minthara & Orin Scene: Analysis

*If you have theories about this scene, PLEASE message me or reblog this post, I have so many questions!

Reference: Minthara Shows a Vision of Orin - New scene? - Baldur's Gate 3 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JOiD1Slqpk)

This scene triggers when you first meet Minthara. Dror Ragzlin "represents" Ketheric Thorm, Priestess Gut "represents" Enver Gortash, and Minthara "represents" Orin the Red. (I like to theorize that Minthara was influenced by her Chosen's traits because, according to a guard, she was "fierce and erratic", and at the goblin camp she was noticeably more bloodthirsty than she is when she has control over herself. But that's not the subject here.)

*Priestess Gut and Dror Ragzlin have similar "visions".

Here's my analysis. (It's not polished AT ALL, I randomly pulled this out of my drafts 😅)

Where does it take place?

Where: I couldn't figure that out and spent like 10 minutes puzzling over it before realizing it was right there, in the Shattered Sanctum, at Minthara's desk. Nothing is different; her stuff is there, the candles are lit. The only difference is the bottle on the corner of the table, which I don't believe was there before.

What is happening?

"The visions cloud your inner eye for a brief moment once again. You see the hobgoblin, bowing before the armoured elf you'd glimpsed before. The elf speaks of a hunt for a great weapon, and the rewards that will go to whoever finds it. The hobgoblin's eyes gleam hungrily."- Ragzlin's Ketheric vision

"Darkness seems to swallow the temple, leaving you with a vision of the goblin priestess, receiving instruction from a handsome young man. One of the Chosen..."- Gut's Gortash vision

"The chamber melts away to reveal a dark, endless nowhere. In it, you see a vision- the drow listens as a pale-eyed young woman whispers in her ear. One of those the voice spoke of. The Chosen."- Minthara's Orin vision

The description of Ragzlin's vision explains why he and Minthara are rivals: they share a task from Ketheric Thorm. (Also remember that, if Minthara is killed, Ketheric tells the goblins they "failed to protect" their "True Soul". There were three leaders at the goblin camp, but it is obvious that Ketheric is referencing Minthara. She was favored by not one, but two Chosen- and it made her a lot of enemies in the cult. Z'rell, Nere, Ragzlin...)

Anyways! Ragzlin and Gut's scenes both involve them receiving instructions. For Minthara, this is not specified- although, the goblins claim that it was Minthara who received the instructions when they are on trial, so it's not unlikely. It is also worth noting that in Gut's scene, she is standing a few feet away from Gortash, and in Ragzlin's, he is bowing. Minthara's is unique because 1. there is movement in the scene and 2. Orin is standing close to her, getting closer, "whispering in her ear". The PC looks worried in this scene, but the head movement is the same as in the other two.

So, what is happening in this scene? Orin is whispering in her ear, yes. As Minthara does not look hostile in this scene, it is not prior to her being mind controlled- assuming this event actually occurred. The only question is, what is Orin whispering? Instructions, as with the other two scenes?

What is it?

Flashback: One of the goblins states the "Moonrise types" rarely see Priestess Gut or Dror Ragzlin, but not "never", so it's a possibility. For 2/3 of them, it specifies that instructions are being received/given, so it's probable. It also matches up with Minthara not acknowledging it afterwards. @majorasnightmare's theory aligns with this, and the use of the teleportation Orin and Gortash seem capable of in Act 2 with Ulder Ravenguard.

Illusion: This is closer to the description of 'vision'. By illusion, I mean an event that never really occurred, but was instead put in Minthara's mind as many other memories from the Absolute cult were. But who knows?

@majorasnightmare has a compelling theory, one that makes a lot of sense to me:

"im personally of the opinion that it's a flashback, with the event in question occuring near immediately after the nautiloid crashes. at the end of act 2, we see gortash and orin teleport away with ulder ravenguard, and orin throughout early act 3 makes use of a ring she twists to teleport away from you. i think the nautiloid crashing is a big enough change in circumstance that the chosen three utilize the teleportation shown above to address the raid leaders closest to the crash site (minthara, ragzlin, and guts) to update their orders to focus more on the hunt for the weapon in the surrounding area (as opposed to their usual raids to grab slaves and persons of interest, and root out potential "heretic" problems), before teleporting away after the flashback ends."

Did she show you it on purpose?

I doubt it. When it is first coming, that purple light around her appears- the 'tadpole' light, the 'Absolute' light, the same one that appeared when she was being tortured via psychic magic.

Furthermore, the sentence directly before that was, "As she turns to you, her thoughts mingle with yours, a cold hand caressing your brain." It seems as if your thoughts joined and this was what was on her mind. (???)

And afterwards, she doesn't acknowledge it, carrying on to, "A True Soul? Praise be. [...]"

What do you think?

[51faces]

Loudest Love

Dreamcatcher's Lee Yubin (Dami) x Female reader

AN: Please read.

Hi Lovelies! 🌟

I don't know how or why, but I can't believe I finished this story after only a short amount of time! It feels surreal! I truly hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it. 💖(sorry for any mistakes)

I don’t want to spoil too much, but I do want to give a quick heads-up: TW: Homophobic comments and hate speech appear in this story, so please be mindful while reading.

Thank you all for your support! I can't wait to hear what you think! 😊✨

Much love, Fae 🫰 🐰🐤🐺🐱🐶🐼🦊 🫰

P.S. This hairstyle on Dami is just chef's kiss! 👌💕

Dami sat in the now-quiet café, staring at the empty seat in front of her, where Y/N had just been moments ago. The door had closed behind Y/N with a soft chime, the sound lingering in the air like an echo. It hadn’t been long, yet it felt as if a lifetime had passed since their last shared gaze. Y/N's gentle voice still hung in the air, soft and melodic. "Take care of yourself, okay?" Those words had filled the room with a warmth that clung to Dami, even as Y/N disappeared from sight.

Dami pressed her lips together, fighting the swell of emotion building inside her. Her chest tightened under the weight of Y/N’s parting words, the simple phrase wrapping around her heart like a vice. For months, Dami had convinced herself that pushing Y/N away was the right choice—necessary, even. She had told herself that she was protecting them both, shielding them from the uncertainty of the future. But now, sitting in the café with Y/N’s absence settling like a shadow in the space around her, she could no longer ignore the nagging doubts. The seat across from her felt painfully empty, a hollow reminder of what she had let slip through her fingers.

Outside, the world carried on, blissfully unaware of her inner turmoil. Sunlight streamed through the café’s large windows, casting patterns across the polished tables. Pedestrians hurried past, caught up in the rhythm of their own lives. But for Dami, the vibrant scene was muted, the world around her blurred and distant. The laughter and chatter of other customers seemed miles away. She traced the rim of her coffee cup, the cool porcelain grounding her, though her heart felt like it was on fire.

The walk back to her apartment felt endless. Each step weighed heavier than the last, as though she were moving through quicksand. The cobblestone streets stretched on, seemingly without end. With every step, memories of Y/N replayed in her mind: their spontaneous adventures, late-night conversations that had stretched into the morning, the sound of their laughter intertwined like a song. The things she had taken for granted now stood out vividly in her mind, reminders of a bond she had severed.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, notifications from her bandmates about upcoming schedules—rehearsals, concerts, meetings. But they felt intrusive, foreign, as though they were messages meant for someone else. Dami barely glanced at the screen. The world of Dreamcatcher, once her entire focus, now felt distant. All that occupied her thoughts was Y/N: her radiant smile, the crinkle of her eyes when she laughed, the comforting warmth of her presence.

The emptiness in Dami’s chest deepened with each passing moment. It was as if part of her had been carved out, leaving a void that pulsed with longing. She wanted to reach out, to take back the words and actions that had pushed Y/N away, but all she could do was trudge on, lost in a haze of regret and unspoken apologies. The question gnawed at her: would she ever get another chance, or had she permanently closed the door on a future with Y/N?

-----

Weeks passed. Dreamcatcher’s tour was in full swing, and stepping back on stage, Dami felt as though nothing had changed. The lights blazed bright and blinding, cutting through the darkened arena. The cheers from the crowd washed over her, rising and falling in waves of excitement and adoration. The energy in the air was electric, the familiar buzz of thousands of fans chanting their names, creating a wall of sound that usually wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

But tonight, it all felt distant. As though she were separated from it by an invisible wall. She executed every move with the precision expected of her, her body in perfect sync with the music, but her heart wasn’t there. It was somewhere else—tethered to memories of Y/N, playing on an endless loop in her mind. No matter how much the crowd roared, it couldn’t fill the hollow ache that had taken root inside her.

When the shows ended and the adrenaline faded, Dami retreated to the quiet of her room. She would scroll through her phone, through old conversations and photos with Y/N. Every night was the same—revisiting memories of happier days, sun-drenched afternoons, carefree outings, late-night talks. Each photo was a reminder of what she had let go. Y/N had been her anchor, the one constant amidst the chaos of her life, and Dami had pushed her away, thinking it was the right thing to do.

JiU was the first to notice that something was wrong. After a particularly grueling rehearsal, where the choreography felt more like a chore than an escape, she pulled Dami aside. "What’s going on with you?" JiU asked, concern laced through her words. "You’ve been off for weeks."

"I’m fine," Dami said automatically, her voice flat. But even she didn’t believe it.

JiU crossed her arms, her expression unyielding. "No, you’re not. I can see it, Dami. You're not yourself. Please, talk to me."

For a moment, Dami stood in silence, staring at the floor. The weight of her secret felt too heavy to keep carrying. Finally, she sank to the floor, pressing her back against the cool wall of the practice room. "Unnie, I messed up," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I pushed Y/N away because I thought it was the right thing. I thought if I focused on Dreamcatcher, it would keep us from disbanding. I didn’t want to lose everything again. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing."

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "But I was wrong. I lost the one person who was always there for me, and now… I can’t find her. I’ve been calling, texting. Nothing. She’s just… gone."

JiU knelt beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Dami, if she’s that important to you, you can’t give up. You have to fight for her."

"I’ve tried," Dami replied, tears slipping down her cheeks. "It’s been months. I don’t even know where she is."

JiU thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. "I think I know a way to help."

-----

JiU sat in her room, preparing for a solo VLive session with the fans. The moment her stream went live, the chat exploded with questions and excitement. She smiled warmly, engaging with the viewers, but a thought weighed on her mind. After some lighthearted conversation, JiU’s expression grew more serious.

“I need your help with something,” she said, her tone soft but urgent. The chat buzzed with curiosity. “There’s someone we’ve lost contact with—someone important. We knew her as InsomniacGirl. If anyone knows anything, please reach out. This is really important to one of our members."

The chat went wild, with fans reminiscing about InsomniacGirl and vowing to help however they could. The hashtag #FindInsomniacGirl quickly trended, as Dreamcatcher’s dedicated fans sprang into action, determined to track down the elusive figure.

JiU ended the VLive with a hopeful smile, feeling a sense of purpose as she logged off. If anyone could find Y/N, it was InSomnia. She just had to hope it wasn’t too late.

The following days blurred together for Dami, each one bleeding into the next. Rehearsals, performances, and fan events came and went, but none of it reached her heart. Every night, she lay in bed, wondering if she had lost Y/N for good. Meanwhile, the Dreamcatcher fanbase was working like detectives, piecing together clues, until one fan finally made a breakthrough. A screenshot from a game company’s website showed Y/N listed as a graphic designer.

JiU’s phone buzzed with the news. A spark of hope ignited inside her. Y/N hadn’t disappeared completely—she was out there, working, living her life. Now, JiU just had to find a way to reconnect them.

Without telling Dami, JiU reached out to the company, hoping to arrange a meeting. It was a delicate situation, and she didn’t want to raise Dami’s hopes only to crush them. Her fingers hovered over the send button for a moment before pressing it, the weight of possibility hanging in the air.

-----

The restaurant was a quiet haven tucked away in the bustling heart of the city. Soft ambient music floated through the air, mingling with the savory aromas of grilled dishes and freshly baked bread. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting warm patterns across the elegantly set tables. JiU sat across from Y/N, whose presence was a striking contrast to the serene atmosphere. Y/N’s fingers were tightly clasped in her lap, knuckles pale, betraying the nervous tension simmering beneath the surface. Yet, that same calm confidence that had once captivated JiU remained—a quiet strength beneath the uncertainty.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” JiU said softly, offering a small smile, hoping to ease the tension.

Y/N nodded, her expression guarded, her eyes revealing little. The weight of the moment hung between them like an invisible wall. “I figured this was about Yubin,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper. The name seemed to fill the space between them, heavy with unspoken emotions.

JiU’s heart tightened at the mention of Dami. Leaning forward, she tried to bridge the distance that Y/N’s silence had created. “Yeah, it is,” JiU confessed, her tone gentle but unwavering. “She’s been a mess without you, Y/N. She thought pushing you away was what you needed, but she was wrong. She knows that now.”

Y/N looked down, and JiU could see the turmoil hidden beneath her calm exterior, the hurt etched across her face. It was clear that time had not yet healed the wounds from their separation. Memories seemed to flash behind Y/N’s eyes, the silence between them punctuated by the weight of what had been left unsaid.

“I’m not here to ask you to take her back,” JiU continued, her voice careful, seeking to reassure. “But I think you should know that she’s been trying to find you for months. She’s changed, Y/N. She realizes how badly she messed up, and she’s terrified it’s too late.” JiU paused, searching Y/N’s face for a sign of understanding. “If you still feel even a fraction of what she feels… I think you should hear her out.”

The soft clinking of glasses and the murmur of other patrons filled the quiet that followed. Y/N remained still, her gaze fixed on the table, deep in thought. JiU watched her closely, hoping to see a flicker of recognition, a hint of the emotions still buried beneath Y/N’s stoic exterior.

“In three days,” JiU said, her voice quiet but insistent, “come to the Dreamcatcher company. Just tell the front desk you’re Y/N, and Dami will be there, waiting for you.” She held her breath, the words hanging in the air. “If you decide not to come, we’ll understand. But she deserves a chance to explain.”

Y/N sat in silence, the weight of JiU's words heavy between them. JiU felt the unspoken connection flicker—perhaps Y/N still cared. After a moment of quiet reflection, Y/N thanked her softly and stood, her movements poised but hesitant. As she walked out of the restaurant, JiU’s chest tightened. Watching Y/N disappear beyond the glass doors, she felt a glimmer of hope, like the first stirrings of spring after a long, bitter winter—a chance for healing and renewal.

-----

The day had finally arrived, and JiU’s anxiety was at an all-time high. Every tick of the clock seemed louder, the seconds stretching unbearably as she waited for any word about Y/N. What if Y/N didn’t show? What if she had changed her mind? These thoughts gnawed at JiU, making her palms sweat and her heart race. She could barely focus on her own rehearsals, distracted by the fear that Y/N wouldn’t come. The anticipation felt suffocating, the hope of reconnection teetering on the edge of possibility.

Then, finally, her phone buzzed. It was a message from the front desk: Y/N was here.

Relief washed over JiU, like a cool breeze on a scorching day. Her heart leapt with excitement as she quickly texted the front desk, instructing them to bring Y/N to the third-floor practice room. Her hands trembled as she hit send. The next step was finding Dami.

Meanwhile, Dami dragged herself through another rehearsal. Each movement felt mechanical, as if her body was going through the motions while her spirit was elsewhere. The music that once set her heart alight now echoed hollowly. Thoughts of Y/N haunted her, a constant reminder of the emptiness she carried. She had resigned herself to the belief that Y/N was truly gone.

When rehearsal finally ended, JiU approached Dami with a smile that stood out against the day’s exhaustion. “Hey, Dami,” she said lightly, though the glint in her eyes betrayed a deeper urgency. “Can you head up to the practice room on the third floor? I need you to check something for me.”

Dami frowned, confused. “What for?”

“It’s nothing serious,” JiU replied, trying to sound casual, though her excitement was barely contained. “Just trust me, okay?”

With a sigh, Dami relented. She was too drained to question JiU’s request. “Fine,” she muttered, grabbing her water bottle as she made her way up the stairs, her thoughts heavy as ever.

Pushing open the door to the practice room, Dami fully expected to find it empty. But as she stepped inside, time seemed to stop. There, standing in the center of the room, was Y/N.

Dami stood frozen in the practice room, the once-familiar space now feeling like a sacred ground of memories and emotions she had tried so hard to bury. The scent of sweat mixed with the lingering fragrance of cleaning supplies filled her nostrils, but it was the sight of Y/N standing in front of her that made her heart skip a beat. For an agonizing moment, time seemed to stretch, and the world around them melted away. It felt like a dream, one she had replayed in her mind a thousand times, but never dared to believe would come true. Yet, there Y/N was, undeniably real and within reach, her presence igniting a fire of warmth and anxiety deep within Dami's chest.

Her heart raced like a drum, each beat echoing her want to rush forward and pull Y/N into her arms, to shield her from all the hurt that had stained their past. But hesitation gripped her like a vice; she remembered every moment of pain she had caused, every slice of regret that lay between them like a chasm. Dami’s hands clenched into tight fists, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil raging inside her. Each breath was laced with the weight of unspoken words, a thousand apologies clamoring for release.

“Y/N…” Dami’s voice emerged, shaky and barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment they found themselves in. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat betraying the tumult of feelings she had tried to suppress. She took a hesitant step forward, feeling as though the ground beneath her was both solid and precarious. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N remained silent, her expression inscrutable, and the uncertainty reflected in her eyes tightened Dami’s chest even more. The dam she had constructed around her feelings gave way, and before she could restrain herself, a torrent of words spilled out. “I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing you away,” she admitted, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “I believed that if I focused on my career—on Dreamcatcher—I could secure a stable future for us, to provide and protect you from whatever challenges lay ahead. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. By looking too far ahead, I failed to see what was right in front of me.”

The tears that had threatened to overflow for so long began to gather in Dami's eyes, shimmering like fragile pearls ready to spill over the edges. She made no move to wipe them away; the soft warmth trickling down her cheeks felt like a release she had been desperately craving. In this moment, vulnerability surged through her, and she surrendered to it completely. She didn’t care anymore; this moment was too precious to hide behind the walls she'd built, too significant to mask with a facade.

She needed Y/N to understand how deeply this had shattered her, how the weight of her sorrow pressed heavily on her heart. “I’ve been so lost without you, Y/N,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the strain of her confession, each word trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. “Every day, every performance—it’s like I’m just going through the motions, playing a role in a story that feels utterly hollow. None of it means anything without you; it’s just noise, just lights and distractions that can’t fill the void you’ve left behind. I don’t care about fame, success, or anything if I can’t have you by my side.”

As she spoke, her emotions poured out in a flood, raw and unfiltered. The world around them faded into a distant blur—the bustling crowd, the bright lights of the venue, the murmurs of fans—all of it dimmed in the face of her truth. The air between them felt thick with unspoken words, and Dami took a step closer, a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm that had formed between them. She searched Y/N’s eyes, hoping for a flicker of understanding, a glimmer of the love they once shared that had been clouded by silence and distance.

“I’ve realized that without you, all the accolades and applause are just echoes of emptiness,” she continued, her voice trembling but laced with unwavering sincerity. “You are my heartbeat, my muse. Please, just tell me there’s still a chance for us.”

Dami’s voice cracked under the weight of her emotions, each syllable tinged with desperation. Before she fully grasped what was happening, she found herself kneeling on the cold, hard floor, her palms pressed against the worn surface as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Tears burst forth, streaming down her cheeks, glistening in the soft light that barely illuminated the room. They pooled on the floor before her, a silent testament to her pain and regret—unrestrained, unfiltered, a stark contrast to the fortress of composure she had built around her heart.

“Please… please give me another chance,” she begged, her breath hitching in her throat. Her eyes, once fierce and confident, now shimmered with vulnerability and longing. Each word was laced with a raw sincerity, a plea that echoed in the silence like a haunting melody. “I’ll do anything to make it right...” The tremor in her voice betrayed the storm of emotions swirling within her, a tempest that had raged for far too long. “…I’d even leave the group.”

The weight of her offer hung heavy in the air, a sacrifice she had never imagined making, yet it felt necessary, as if it were the only way to bridge the chasm that had widened between them. With every heartbeat, the truth of her feelings clawed its way to the surface. “Please, Y/N, I love you so much,” she choked out, her heart aching with the words. The pain of their separation was a fierce reminder of what she had lost, and the thought of losing Y/N again was unbearable. “I can’t lose you… I can’t.”

Her gaze locked onto Y/N's, searching for a flicker of hope amid the uncertainty that hung thick in the air. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only the possibility of redemption and the chance to reclaim the love that had slipped through her fingers like sand. Dami was all in, willing to sacrifice everything, driven by an all-consuming need to rewrite their story, to craft a future where they could be together, undeterred by the past.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she watched Dami, her heart aching at the sight of the woman she had cared for so deeply reduced to this, pleading before her. Dami's shoulders trembled, her once vibrant spirit seemingly crushed under the weight of despair. Shadows danced across her features, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and endless worry. The sight sent a fresh wave of grief surging through Y/N, as memories of their laughter and shared dreams faded into the background, swallowed by the current moment of raw vulnerability.

Slowly, as if moving through water, Y/N knelt down in front of Dami, her knees sinking into the cool ground. With an almost reverent touch, she reached out and cupped Dami’s tear-streaked face in her hands. The warmth of Dami’s soft skin was a painful reminder of the warmth that had once filled their time together. Y/N brushed her thumb across Dami’s cheek, tracing the path of the tears that had flowed freely, her heart aching to erase the hurt that was etched upon her beloved's face.

“Yubinnie,” Y/N whispered, her voice thick with emotion, each syllable carrying the weight of the love and promises left unsaid. Her gaze softened, a profound tenderness glimmering in her eyes as the dim light of the room cast delicate shadows against the walls. “You know I’d never ask you to give up your dream,” she continued, her eyes searching Dami’s, filled with a mix of admiration and longing.

Every word she spoke was layered with understanding and a love that transcended time, reaching through the scars of their past pain. The air between them felt electric, humming with unspoken emotions and shared memories. Laughter, late-night conversations, and stolen moments flickered like echoes between them. “All I’ve ever wanted was to stand by your side,” she confessed, her voice trembling under the weight of her sincerity. “I forgave you a long time ago. The heart has a way of healing, even when the mind still struggles to let go.”

With a gentle motion, Y/N reached out, her arms open, offering a sanctuary amidst the storm swirling between them. “Come here,” she urged softly, her heart racing, every beat echoing with anticipation. In that moment, the outside world faded into insignificance. All that remained was the undeniable connection between them—the unbreakable bond that had weathered every storm and still bloomed in the warmth of their shared vulnerability.

Dami let out a shaky breath, her tears morphing into quiet sobs as Y/N enveloped her in a tight embrace, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a long-lost puzzle. In that moment, the weight of months of separation finally began to lift, transformational air filling the space between them.

“I missed you so much,” Y/N said softly, her forehead resting against Dami’s, their breathing synchronizing in an intimate rhythm as they relished the warmth of each other. “I never stopped loving you.”

“Me too,” Dami whispered back, her heart pounding in her chest like a thunderous drum as she leaned in slowly, their foreheads brushing together. With a gentle, tentative touch, she pressed her lips against Y/N’s in a soft kiss, a kiss filled with every unspoken word, every unshed tear, and every ounce of love they had held for each other through the trials of their separation.

As they lost themselves in that brief moment of togetherness, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the echoes of their heartbeats and the unbreakable bond they shared. In that nightmarish practice room, surrounded by mirrors that reflected every inch of their vulnerability, they discovered the truth that had eluded them for so long: love, once shaken, could always be rebuilt stronger, and with every trembling heartbeat, they were ready to start anew.

-----

Over the next few days, she seemed to shed her previous inhibitions, transforming from the gentle, reserved member of her group into someone radiating vitality and joy. The change was so marked that it became impossible for her fans to ignore. During interviews and livestreams, Dami’s once-sad demeanor was replaced with an effervescent brightness that shimmered through the screen, captivating audiences both old and new.

Gone were the days of her subtle smiles and lowered eyes; now, her laughter danced through every segment, filling the air with a buoyant lightness that had been missing for months. There was a newfound spark in her eyes—a flicker of happiness that hinted at transformative moments of her life. The fans, ever attuned to the nuances of her expression, began to speculate energetically about what had contributed to this newfound joy.

Social media buzzed with excitement as fan forums lit up with threads bursting with theories.

Dami’s glowing lately. I'm so glad she's happy and healthy ���� one fan posited, their words laden with both hope and curiosity.

“What happened to make Dami so happy? And can I please have some?” queried another. “We all know why Dami’s smiling—InsomniacGirl is BACK in her life! #DreamcatcherLove”, they chimed in, connecting the dots of Dami’s recent uplifted spirit to the rumored return of the enigmatic figure from her past.

“JiU didn’t follow up on that VLive secret mission… Something’s happening behind the scenes 👀👀 #InsomniacGirl,” speculated another fan, whose excitement reflected a collective eagerness to learn more. They poured over past streams, hunting for any hidden clues or references that could shed light on the mystery surrounding Dami’s uplifted mood.

Despite the flurry of speculation and the narratives swirling through social media, Dami remained quiet about any personal changes in her life. After all the ups and downs she had faced in the public eye, she had learned to keep her private world tucked safely away from the relentless scrutiny that came with fame. While she was undeniably a star, she was also a young woman trying to find her own happiness away from the spotlight, especially after everything that had unfolded in recent months.

It was during one of Dreamcatcher’s biggest concerts of the year that the weight of this contrast—between her public and private self—seemed to blur. The anticipation in the venue was palpable, crackling like static electricity as the fans packed the arena to capacity. The air buzzed with excitement, a sea of passionate energy that rose to a crescendo as the lights began to dim. The crowd erupted, chanting the names of their beloved members in unison, their voices forming a wave of love and anticipation.

Amidst the flashing lights and thundering music, something deeper simmered within Dami, something unexpected that resonated beyond the show. It was a moment that would linger in the memories of fans long after the night had ended, marking a shift in the air, both on and off the stage.

In the front row, a familiar face stood out amidst the sea of ecstatic InSomnias. Y/N was there, cheering and waving her light stick with a joy reminiscent of her earlier days as one of Dreamcatcher’s most devoted supporters. 

A fellow fan, an avid Twitter user, caught sight of her and couldn’t believe their eyes. Y/N was back! They swiftly snapped a photo and posted it online with the caption, “Wait, is that InsomniacGirl in the front row?!? Omg, she’s BACK!” The tweet spread like wildfire, racking up retweets and likes at an astonishing pace.

“GUYS, IT’S HAPPENING! Y/N IS BACK AT DREAMCATCHER CONCERTS! Dami looks SO HAPPY! 😭😭,” another post chimed in, accompanied by a blurry but clear image of Dami beaming at the sight of Y/N.

Multiple fans joined in, their excitement palpable across social media. “I can’t believe Y/N is back, this is the cutest thing ever. #Dreamcatcher #InsomniacGirl,” one user tweeted, complemented by a flurry of joyful emojis. The digital atmosphere was electric, as pockets of fans around the globe celebrated the return of a beloved figure who had taken a hiatus.

Little did they know that Y/N's night was about to take a heartwarming turn. After the concert concluded, and after the euphoric chants of “Encore! Encore!” had subsided, the staff quietly escorted Y/N backstage. Confounded yet excited, her heart raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation as she navigated through the dimly lit corridors lined with posters of the band and photos from past performances. The electrifying vibe of the concert still hung thick in the air, but Y/N's focus narrowed down to what was ahead—seeing Dami again.

Suddenly, amidst the chaos of post-concert festivities, Dami spotted her. The world around them faded as she rushed over, her eyes sparkling with disbelief and joy. Without hesitation, Dami scooped Y/N into a warm embrace that felt like a cozy blanket. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she whispered softly, a tremor of emotion threading through her words. “This all started because I was selfish. I thought the band would get in the way, but now… I want to merge my life with yours. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

When the girls returned to the stage for their encore performance, Dami took the mic again, her heart pounding. The crowd quieted down, sensing something big was about to happen.

“I want to share something important with all of you,” Dami began, her voice steady but emotional. “Some of you might have guessed, but I want to say it out loud.”

In a moment that felt like a scene straight out of a fairytale, Dami rushed backstage, her heartbeat echoing the excitement of the thousands of eager faces waiting just beyond the curtain. Her eyes sparkled with determination as she grasped Y/N’s hand, pulling her into the spotlight. The crowd erupted into an uproar, recognizing Y/N as “InsomniacGirl,” a moniker that symbolized unconditional love and support in the vibrant world of fandom.

As the spotlight illuminated their faces, Dami momentarily paused, her gaze piercing through the sea of fans. “This person standing beside me,” she began, her voice trembling with emotion, “and I have shared our lives since childhood. We laughed, we cried, and we became each other’s rock, even when the biggest troubles we faced were as minor as spilling a juice box on a summer’s day.”

The crowd laughed and listened with rapt attention, their excitement simmering into something deeper. Dami turned to Y/N, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, mirroring the sentiment cascading from her heart. “She is the reason why so many of you Insomnia’s look up to me,” Dami continued, her voice thickening with emotion. “She helped mold me into who I am today, and I could not be more thankful for her presence in my life.”

Y/N’s smile widened, tears brimming in her eyes as she looked at Dami, the love that anchored her soul shining brightly in that electrifying moment. The warmth radiating from their connection was palpable, and the audience shared in their joy, holding their breath as Dami prepared to share a more intimate truth.

Dami took a deep breath, her voice growing more certain as she spoke to the crowd. “Some of you might know her as InsomniacGirl, the passionate fan who would brave every crowd and never miss a single stage. Others might recognize her as the incredibly talented graphic designer who breathes life into art,” she said, her gaze locking onto Y/N’s with unwavering tenderness.

“But to me, she is so much more,” Dami continued, her voice softening, each word carrying a deeper weight. “She’s my rock when everything feels too heavy. She’s the one who knows every part of me—the good, the bad, and everything in between—and still chooses to stand by my side. To me…” Dami paused, her breath catching as the emotion swelled in her chest. She took a shaky breath before continuing, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s.

“To me… she’s my girlfriend, my partner, and the love of my life.”

The words hung in the air, charging the atmosphere with raw emotion. The crowd erupted once again, louder than every before, not just for a beloved artist revealing a personal side, but for the beautiful love story playing out live on stage. In that moment, in front of thousands, Dami and Y/N became symbols of hope, love, and unwavering support.

Dami’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she shared this part of her life, her vulnerability radiating like a beacon. Y/N reciprocated with a warm smile, her heart breaking and mending all at once as the affection echoed throughout the crowd. The sight of Dami, filled with joy yet trembling slightly, only endeared her more to the audience, tightening the bond between idol and fan.

The moment ignited a frenzy on social media—clips from the performance quickly circulated, capturing the rawness of Dami's declaration. It was an iconic moment in pop culture history, one that solidified their love and showcased the undeniable connection they shared.

As the night continued, the group graced the stage one last time for a series of encores, launching into their beloved song “Silent Night.” The ending instrumental rushed through the crowd like waves, harmonizing with the still-echoing happiness from Dami’s heartfelt confession. Every familiar note felt imbued with a sense of solidarity and joy that only enhanced the collective elation in the arena.

When the lights finally dimmed, the crowd began to disperse, each fan leaving with memories of a magical, love filled night etched in their hearts. Y/N and Dami walked side by side into the post-concert haze, ready to face the world together. With fingers intertwined and spirits lifted, they stepped out of the limelight — both excited and apprehensive about what lay ahead. Love had become their greatest anthem, echoing louder than any song, a melody they would share wherever life took them next.

-----

In a heartwarming yet controversial turn of events, multiple clips featuring Dami of Dreamcatcher and her partner Y/N have taken South Korea by storm. It quickly gained traction, becoming a trending topic across various news outlets, blogs, and social media platforms. The duality of public reactions has resulted in a fascinating discourse surrounding love, acceptance, and culture in the conservative nation.

From the moment the clip aired, social media erupted with reactions that were as polarized as they were passionate. Fans and skeptics alike engaged in spirited discussions about the implications of Dami’s revelation. While many flooded timelines with support, expressing admiration and pride, others hurled insults, criticizing the couple for their openness. The social media landscape mirrored the nation itself, reflecting both progress and resistance to change.

Among the supportive messages were a slew of shockingly hateful tweets that laid bare the harsh realities of online discourse, especially when it comes to LGBTQ+ representation.

"Absolutely disgusting. She just destroyed her career. Good riddance. #BoycottDreamcatcher," one user raged, clearly unwilling to accept the couple’s relationship.

Some comments were even more brutal in their homophobia:

“Keep that filthy lifestyle away from us. Dreamcatcher is ruined now. Hope they lose all their fans. #BoycottDreamcatcher,” another tweeted viciously.

Others didn’t hold back their disdain, attacking not just the relationship, but their very existence:

"Of course another one of these idols is gay. What a freak. Hope she disappears. #DreamcatcherCancelled."

And in a particularly cruel attack, one user wrote:

"No one cares about your gay love story. You both should just stay in the closet or leave Korea altogether. #DreamcatcherOver."

Despite this wave of negativity, not only international fans but many Korean fans took it upon themselves to counterbalance the hate. As the news of Dami and Y/N’s relationship spread across social media, waves of support surged from both local and global fanbases. Hashtags like #DreamcatcherLove and #SupportDami began trending as fans expressed their unwavering loyalty to the duo.

"This is SO rare in Korea. My respect for Dreamcatcher just shot through the roof! #DreamcatcherLove 🌈❤️," one fan tweeted, encapsulating the sentiments of many who were proud to see representation manifest in such a high-profile way.

Some Korean fans highlighted the importance of their voices in this discussion, calling out others for their harmful views:

"We need more of this in our country. Dami and Y/N are brave, and we should support them. If you can’t, just stay silent. #SupportDami 🏳️‍🌈," one tweet read, signaling that support for the couple was growing even at home.

Support wasn’t limited to just the InSomnia fanbase. People from all walks of life and even outside the K-pop community voiced their admiration for Dami and Y/N’s story.

"I don’t even listen to K-pop, but their story is so beautiful! Love is love. #SupportDami #LoveIsLove ❤️🌈," wrote one user, showing how their relationship resonated with a much wider audience.

The emotional responses only deepened as more context about their relationship came to light.

"Dami met Y/N when they were kids?! This is some movie-level romance 😭❤️#DreamcatcherLove #SupportDami." gushed another fan, highlighting the endearing childhood connection that had evolved into a beautiful love story.

The flood of nostalgic memories and shared history only added layers to their relationship, compelling many to see it as a testament to true love.

"Y/N was always there from the beginning ... WHY AM I CRYING??? #DreamcatcherLove 💖," shared a user who felt genuinely moved by the authenticity of their bond.

Despite the barrage of negative comments and calls for a boycott, Dami's supporters remained undeterred. The backlash, instead of silencing them, only strengthened their resolve. Fans, especially the fiercely loyal InSomnias, rallied together, determined to drown out the hate with even louder voices of love and acceptance. Rather than allowing the negativity to dominate the conversation, they flooded social media with messages of solidarity, turning the controversy into a movement.

“If you’re mad about Dami’s announcement, you were never a true fan. ✌️ Love is love! #DreamcatcherLove #SupportDami🌈,” one tweet encouraged, reinforcing a culture of acceptance and inclusivity.

Some fans even took the homophobic criticism and flipped it into a call for action:

"If you're angry, how about streaming all of Dreamcatcher's songs instead? Let's go, InSomnia! #DreamcatcherForever 🏳️‍🌈💿," a passionate fan replied.

Moreover, InSomnia had no intention of backing down. They rallied under hashtags like #DreamcatcherForever and urged others to support the band in even greater numbers.

"Boycott?? More like buy all their albums! #DreamcatcherForever 🏳️‍🌈💿," one fan stated, turning a critique into a celebration of Dami and Y/N’s strength.

Others chimed in with playful confidence, saying:

“Dami coming out of her glass closet 😂 girl we BEEN knew 🌈#DreamcatcherForever ” affirming that the relationship was not a surprise to devoted fans.

The Dami and Y/N clip has not only sparked a dialogue about love and acceptance in Korea but has also fostered a sense of unity among fans, showcasing the powerful role that social media can play in shaping conversations around controversial topics. Much like their music, Dami and Y/N's story resonates on multiple levels, presenting a mixture of joy and resistance.

As discussions about gender identity and love continue to evolve, the world is watching to see how Dreamcatcher—and their inspired fans—navigate this cultural moment.

-----

Now, sitting at the same café where their hearts had once broken, Dami and Y/N found themselves in a moment that felt worlds apart from the past. The golden afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing them in warmth. The sounds of the bustling café faded into the background as their eyes met, a tender smile curling on Y/N’s lips.

“I still can’t believe you took me back,” Dami said softly, her voice fragile with emotion. “After everything I put us through... I thought I’d ruined everything.” Her eyes dropped to the table, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup nervously. “Breaking things off with you... it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I’m so sorry for all the pain I caused.”

Y/N gazed at her for a moment, her eyes full of understanding, before a gentle laugh slipped from her lips. She reached across the table, taking Dami’s hand in hers, the warmth of the touch instantly soothing. “You don’t need to keep apologizing,” she said softly, giving Dami’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It hurt at the time, yeah, but... that’s in the past. What matters is that we found our way back. And now we’re here—stronger than before.”

Dami’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked up, her heart full of emotions she wasn’t used to sharing so openly. But with Y/N, it felt safe. It felt right. “You make it sound so simple.”

Y/N smiled, reaching out to brush a stray hair from Dami’s face, her touch light and full of affection. “Because it is simple,” she replied, her voice as gentle as a whisper. “We went through something hard, but we came out the other side. We’re better for it. And honestly...” She gave a playful shrug. “I kind of like that I made Dreamcatcher’s Dami come crawling back to me.”

Dami let out a breathy laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, the fans certainly didn’t let me off easy.” She grinned, the lightness in her expression matching the joy in her heart. “But they’ve been amazing. They’ve had our backs the whole time. It’s overwhelming, really, to see how much love we’ve gotten.”

“#DreamcatcherForever,” Y/N teased, her voice full of warmth. “They’re incredible. It’s like they knew we’d find our way back before we even did.”

“They really did,” Dami chuckled. “I guess I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.”

For a moment, they sat in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, no longer weighed down by the past. The pain they’d once carried had melted away, leaving only a shared future to look forward to. The world around them seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them—here, now, in this perfect moment.

Dami’s gaze softened as she looked at Y/N, her heart swelling with a wave of gratitude so strong it almost took her breath away. “I’m so lucky to have you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I am. Thank you... for giving us another chance.”

Y/N’s smile widened, full of love and understanding, as she leaned forward. “There was never a doubt,” she whispered back. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Y/N leaned forward, her eyes soft and full of love, and Dami’s heart raced in her chest, warmth flooding through her as their faces drew closer. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them surrounded by sunlight, as if the universe had conspired to make this moment perfect. Y/N’s hand cupped Dami’s cheek with a familiar tenderness, her thumb brushing lightly across her skin, and a soft breath escaped Dami’s lips.

Their kiss was immediate, full of a quiet, unspoken understanding that they had found their way back to each other. Their lips met with certainty, not rushed, but full of deep affection, each touch expressing all the words they didn’t need to say. The kiss was sweet, unhurried, but intense in the way it overflowed with love. Dami felt herself melt into it, her fingers intertwining with Y/N’s as she leaned in, their connection so complete that it felt as though no time had ever passed between them.

Y/N’s lips were soft and warm, and as they kissed, Dami felt the familiar closeness wash over her like a gentle wave, filling every empty space that had once been. The gentle rhythm of their breaths became one, the soft brush of Y/N’s lips against hers grounding her, bringing a peace she hadn’t felt in months. Dami’s hand slid to the back of Y/N’s neck, pulling her just a little closer, their foreheads almost touching as they both deepened the kiss, lost in the love that had carried them through so much.

When they finally parted, it was with a slow, tender retreat, their noses brushing together for just a moment longer as they stayed close, reluctant to let go. Dami’s eyes fluttered open, her heart swelling as she met Y/N’s gaze, the warmth of their kiss still lingering on her lips, a quiet promise that this time, they were truly home.

In a world that didn’t always understand or accept their kind of love, Dami and Y/N had found their way back to each other. Sitting together in the café where their story had once unraveled, their fingers intertwined, and their hearts beating in perfect sync, they knew that the path ahead wouldn’t always be easy. But whatever lay before them, they would face it side by side—stronger, unshaken, and bound by a love that had endured against all odds.

The quiet hum of life buzzed around them, the distant conversations of other customers and the clinking of cups barely registering as they sat, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence. For so long, they had been navigating separate lives, torn apart by the weight of fear and uncertainty. But now, in this moment—hands clasped, hearts full—they were whole again. Their love, once fragile and tentative, was now unbreakable, strengthened by the time and distance that had tested them.

And as Y/N’s thumb gently brushed over Dami’s hand, they shared a look that said everything words couldn’t. They didn’t need to be loud or visible for the world to know what they meant to each other. Their love existed quietly but fiercely, and in finding their way back, they had discovered something far more important: that love, when true and steadfast, could weather any storm.

In that simple, beautiful moment, they realized that they had already won. Not because their love was perfect, but because it had endured. They had fought for it, protected it, and found their way home to each other. And in a world where love like theirs was often questioned or hidden, that was the greatest victory of all.

It didn’t matter what challenges the future held. As long as they had each other, they had everything.

Because in the end, love was their truth. And in that truth, they had found the courage to belong, not just to the world—but to each other.