#what I’ve learned is that I need someone who is obsessed with me the way Geralt is obsessed with Yennefer

[hannahssimblr]

It is by coincidence, not intention, I join the meditators. The sign, soul healing meditation, only happened to invite me down a pathway, shaded, winding through the banyans. I followed it to escape sun that beat so intensely into my head I thought I’d faint at the beach, and has me missing the downpour of Bangkok. It is not out of curiosity I followed the sign, for I’m not, and never have been, curious about spirituality or any vaguely mystical practices. It was a need to cool down. And now I have, actually.

The meditation studio is cool and shaded, the trickle of water from a fountain outside on the lawn, birdsong in the trees. The others shuffle around, get seated on the floor. They’re Buddhists, aren’t they? People who meditate? Well, I’m a protestant, and not even an acceptable one; unable to recite even one complete verse of The Holly and the Ivy at the Church of Ireland Christmas service by heart. I stay at the back of the room by the door, close enough to my shoes, beaten up white runners among a pile of leather sandals, in case someone will be able to tell by looking at me I shouldn’t be doing this. An imposter amongst them.

God, they move glacially, these people. Dyed silk scarves thrown across their chests, serene looks on their faces like they’re floating in the clouds. Nine others, a combined age of one thousand. These are the kinds of people I get trapped behind on the street when I’m running for the train, ambling along in groups, aimlessly gazing at the architecture. Or in the supermarket, not getting out of the way of the fridge, too busy contemplating different salamis to let me grab what I’ve already decided I want. Is it places like this, meditation retreats, where they learn to be so slow?

Ah, there he is, speaking now. The bald man with the interesting face. The guru, or whatever. Nobody has explained to me what I should call him, and I say guru, because of this rumour I heard about a lad from school. Did too many magic mushrooms and got obsessed with some spiritual bigwig in Costa Rica. Made him the lock screen on his phone. His guru, he says. Wears wooden beads around his neck and let his hair get all long allegedly. My hair’s all long now, too, actually. Maybe it’s fitting I’m here, finding my guru, too. This could be the beginning of a life changing, enriching kind of relationship. 

“Just breathe,” he’s saying. “Feel the breath as it enters. Let it soften you. Focus only on it, and let other thoughts go.”

Breathing is extremely easy for me. I just do it, like, there it is in my nose and all. Going into my lungs. I can feel that like I’m supposed to.

“Imagine you are a tree with roots deep in the earth, grounding you where you sit.”

Right, yeah. I can imagine I am a tree too if I want to. This is like drama in primary school, when the teacher put us into groups and had us pretend to be the four elements. “Jude, into the wind group,” she said, and I pretended to be a tornado until I accidentally knocked the drying art projects off the rack, getting wet paint on the side of my uniform. Insisting I did it on purpose, she sent me to the principal for a telling off. Years later, I’d feel bad for ruining the fun. I was like that; always getting too carried away with myself, taking the fun too far. Probably still am. 

“Watch the thoughts come and go like clouds. Try not to follow them.”

So what am I supposed to do, then? Just sit? Sit and breathe? I do sit, but soon the floor is uncomfortable. I shift, and the boards creak under my weight. There I am, making noises again, shifting around too much, my clothing the only clothing making any noise in a room of people, and by the way, there’s an itch on my eyebrow. What do I do about an itch? Scratch it, or mindfully observe it until it goes away? 

 A mosquito. My senses are fine-tuned to the presence of them now, three weeks in Southeast Asia having primed me for hypervigilance. Surely another person is bothered by the presence of a mosquito. It buzzes. If it bites me, can I open my eyes or move, or do I need to mindfully observe the biting?

Guru is still on the tree thing, I think, though I lost track of what he was saying. “...like the roots. In stillness, you are both grounded and free.”

I am meant to be thinking of the present moment, and I am thinking about mosquitoes. This wasn’t supposed to be hard. I shift again, in frustration this time, the discomfort secondary. I peel one eye open and peer at the others. All of them serene, hands in their laps, backs perfectly straight, their breath slow and even. Are they having some sort of experience I am exempt from? I think, annoyed, actually, at their engrossment in the process. This is it? All that meditation is, is breathing and sitting and thinking about how I’m doing just that? I expected something more, as much as I expected this to be simpler. I can’t sit for three seconds without my mind wandering. There it goes again. Wandering, thinking about itself wandering. Fuck sake.

I take a deep breath, shuddering with emotion, closed eyes twitching. Of all the skills to be bad at, I am bad at doing nothing. My life is a joke. I was good at school without wanting to be. Maths, even, a subject everyone automatically assumed I'd be shit at. Tutoring Jen back then, Pythagoras theorem and so on, all of it falling into place in my head without effort while she struggled to the point of tears. Art, brilliant. The way the tutors at college fawned over my pieces, saying things about how wonderful I am, what vision, what creativity, what skill. Extraordinary talent. And people. I excel. I wish I was confident like you are, they say, up in my face at the pub Fridays after school. You just know what to say to people, you know how to make them laugh. Funny boy, clever boy, lucky boy, so bloody gorgeous. You know I fancied you for ages, Jude, was too shy to say something. I shouldn’t be saying it, so drunk, but you’re beautiful. I’d say people tell you that all the time, don’t they? Dangerous beauty. When you look at me like that, I forget my own name. A natural leader, you are, man. You just say what you want and everyone runs to give it to you. You’d do serious damage with that personality if you wanted to. Could lead people astray. Cult leader, Turner, that’s you! Ha!

“...Continue following the breath. Now, let it flow through your arms. From your shoulders to the tips of your fingers.”

No. Sorry, no. I can't. I untangle my legs from underneath me and get up. Loud, obnoxious creaks on the floorboards which no one reacts to. The guru’s eyes remain closed and his lined face tranquil, likely treating the disruption like a passing cloud, as my stockinged feet pound across the floor to retrieve my shoes. The pile of leather Jesus sandals topples, while I smash my feet into my old runners and yank the laces into submission. I am noisy, not just now, but intrinsically, shamefully. Even the way I open the door, which squeaks on metal hinges, swishes and bangs shut behind me, reverberating through the hallway.

I pass the sign, the arrow in the opposite direction. Face hot, teeth clenched. Meditation hour, it says. It has been seven minutes. 

“Did you ever go to the mindfulness session?” Jonas says later, lying in the bunk above me, triumphant since eating a banana and not vomiting it back up. 

“Yeah, actually,” I say. “It was shit, though. Not going again.”

“Thought so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hm.” Outside, the night is alive with crickets and insects that hit against the mosquito nets in pursuit of our light. “I guess you would struggle with meditation.”

“Well, no, because I struggle with nothing.”

A sleepy chuckle. “Okay.”

Too hot. I kick the covers to the end of the bed. “I can do anything I want.”

“Whatever your ego needs to believe, but nobody is good at everything.”

I grunt. 

“Does it bother you to hear this? Or do you not believe it?”

“Actually, I’m too tired to talk, Jonas. Go to sleep.”

And he does. The bed jitters as he rolls onto his side and drifts off, soon snoring contentedly while I stare at the slats above me. Think of the present moment, Jude, go on. Think of your breath. The way the bed feels. The lumps inside the mattress, and the existence of your little toe.

But fifteen seconds of trying, and I am a thousand miles away again, thinking of everything and everyone instead. Sleeping, eventually, only to escape the racket in my head. A horrible meditator. Useless. Good at everything, it seems, but the simplest thing in the world.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[thejawsofmax]

Klance-coded Pierce the Veil songs !!

— i only did 7 songs but i might make a big post with a few songs from each album that make me think of klance (also please be nice to me, this makes more sense in my head and im bad at describing stuff!!!!!)

Caraphernila

“and baby honestly it’s harder breathing next to you”

i think of it as keith and lance’s envy towards each other. they both feel overshadowed by the other without knowing how much they are admired by them

“hold my heart, it’s beating for you anyway”

holding his heart is letting him feel all of his love and emotions, even if it gets crushed. i think this is how keith and lance’s relationship works. lance is literally one of the only people that makes keith feel seen, being able to understand his emotions with barely any words (i think about the scene where everyone just looks over at lance and waits for him to go comfort keith. and lance does so, not even knowing that everyone was expecting him to do it)

“So what if I can't forget you? I'll burn your name into my throat, I'll be the fire that'll catch you”

i think about this as post canon klance. they have left such a big impact on each other’s lives, and then they just go their separate ways??? like no keith is definitely still thinking about lance who’s down on earth. he doesn’t want to forget him and probably never will

Million Dollar Houses (The Painter)

“would you ever try to leave me for somebody who deserves you most”

i think keith would still have some sort of lingering fear that he isn’t enough for lance, despite not actually dating him. so lance “leaving” him for allura in season 8. this can also play on lance’s insecurities, especially when in comparison to keith

“but, baby no, sometimes things don’t work out the way we planned”

OKAY THIS ONE IS DUMB and like kinda generic but it makes me think of how they were doomed by the writers LMAO

“maybe we’re meant to lose the ones we love but i’ll fight for you till then”

both keith and lance have lost a lot during the series’s events but they keep pushing further (especially with the help of each other)

Flawless Execution

“i’ll scar you with my flawless execution every time”

i think about this a lot with black paladin keith + red paladin lance. they are both learning to step up, wanting to prove themselves worthy of their positions.

“i’m not obsessed, far worse, i’m fine” “i didn’t mean to burden you with love in my condition”

this describes someone who’s love is so intense that it’s overwhelming. this is very klance to me because of how deeply connected they are to each other without even knowing it. keith being the person who gives lance the reassurance he needs, and lance being the person who is able to either push keith to do something or pull him back to rationalize his thoughts. THEY CANT LOVE LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE because they are stupid and i hate them

“you and i are blood and wine”

shows how different they are. they’re complete opposites but still somehow complete each other

First Punch

“i’ve got so much to give, but i would kill just to feel less invisible. and you got so much to learn about gravity, so live it up baby don’t look down”

this one is more about lance and his insecurities of being a paladin. although he desperately wanted to use the black lion, (s3 in the ep where they were seeing who the black lion would respond to, lance really hoped it would be him, even sitting in the lion longer than the other paladins did, just hoping it would work) he supported keith and pushed him into stepping into his new role.

the rest of the song is a lot more aggressive and i don’t think it fits keith and lance’s feelings towards each other. like even early season klance doesn’t have the same hatred as in the song but the bridge will always be lance to me

Dive In

“now i wanna be the tattoo ink that swims down through the needle in your skin”

PEAK ROMANCE‼️ i don’t have a lot of reason for this one but being tattoo ink in someone’s skin is like being with someone forever. it makes me think of the permanent scarring there were left with by the end of the series (keith’s face scar after returning to voltron and lance’s altean marks in the finale)

I Don’t Care If You’re Contagious

“And I don't care if you're sick. I don't care if you're contagious. I would kiss you even if you were dead”

this is not really based on any canon content. keith and lance are so deeply intertwined with each other without even knowing it. platonic or romantic, they care about each other. and i have very much think this insane devotion in this song feels like klance core

“I'm gonna tear out the thread one by one from your skin. Till your bones feel embarrassed from all the attention. Kiss me while I drive”

PEAK ROMANCE‼️‼️ this song just generally makes me think of ships i like because this song is full of love and devotion i love it

Even When I’m Not With You

“Even when I'm not with you, I'm still with you”

this always makes me think of when keith and lance get separated. especially when keith leaves voltron, he’s still with lance (especially bc i like to think about keith leaving lance with his red lion, giving lance a little piece of him). this can so be post-canon klance because i know they are still thinking about each other even though they’re off doing their own things

“Even when I think I hate you, I still love you”

even despite any fighting, bickering, and disputes, keith and lance always care about each other, wanting them to be able to work together as a team. especially with black paladin keith!!! lance is always trying to make things work because he’s passionate about voltron’s success (and by further extension, wanting keith to be a good leader)

“Look how far we've come. Think I've finally won”

vic fuentes “think i’ve finally won” is in reference to being able to settle down with his wife. and so like i think about this as klance. by the end of the series, they both got their ending (i don’t like lance’s ending i fear) but they actually are “winning” when they are together

notes: IM SORRY A LOT OF THESE ARE POORLY EXPLAINED :(( but i heart klance and ptv so much

my secret useless talent is that i can make any pierce the veil song be about klance

[johnlockifconvenient]

I want Geralt of rivia carnally

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc AU: consultant groups can be used to outsource problems for companies so why not monarchies?

Danny is listening to the various eyeballs and ghosts chatter on about all the issues that he now has to oversee and advise and make so many freaking decisions on. It’s annoying that it all has to come down to his call because he was a dumb 14 year old who didn’t want his town to permanently live in the ghost zone.

Now 17, King of the Infinite, and a bit wiser to the world, Danny is doing his best to balance his teenage ambitions to not give a shit and his protective obsession to very much give a shit.

Sams parents are making her learn the family business and Tucker is trying to make this internship he’s got with a fancy tech company out of New Jersey into a career without college… so while they’re commiserating with Danny the idea comes up.

Earth has a shit ton of heroes. Like, ever since the Justice League *poofed* the GIW out of existence with the Meta human acts- more and more caped crusaders seemed to be coming out of the wood work. More villains too but still, more people who seemed wise to their abilities and morals. Danny has literally never taken an ethics class.

But rn, Eye-mothy and Eye-Bert are arguing over how Danny as King Phantom is supposed to tackle the problem of some fucking pool acting as a weird trade route with a cult and… ugh it’s just so boring but like also such a fucking problem. But… maybe it can be someone else’s issue.

Opening a portal, Danny escapes into space and gets to work finding the base of operations- Tucker had told him there was a new satellite after all and there’s no way it wasn’t connected to the hero orgs- and boom he flies into the Watchtower.

“Hey- are any of you guys willing to consult on some weird pools of ectoplasm in Pakistan? Green and glowing little lakes of bullshit and magic?” Danny asks into the meeting room of the JL regardless of their startled and alarmed exclamations.

“… I could consult on that.” A voice comes from the corner, and Danny recognizes him as one of the bat people. Or bird? The guy is in a lot of red and clearly wasn’t supposed to be in this meeting based on the way he’s propped in the corner. The room erupts in protest but Danny barely hears them through his excitement and focus on the dude.

“Great! I’ll have him back before the end of the day! Lets go Bird boy!” And with that, Danny grabbed the Bird, chucked them both through a portal back into his thrown room and begins to explain the way these eyeballs are totally trying to trap him into doing more work than he needs to do.

“What do I call you by the way? I’m Danny but you’ll probably hear them call me King Phantom.”

“I go by Red Robin, and honestly, I’ve been trying to get this shit taken care of for years.”

From there Tim becomes a regular consultant for King Phantom- the Bat Family is losing their minds with him constantly going to the land of the dead but also Constantine said not to piss off the king at all costs.

Danny is just thrilled that this dude has a shit ton of insight as well as business sense- like he could legit run the monarchy way better than him despite the fact that they’re the same age.

They end up working together for years, and even when there’s not an active issue at hand, Danny will meet up with the bird just to talk.

Sam and Tucker think they’re hilarious each time they ask if Danny’s proposed yet.

Tim has already planned their wedding but all of that information is in a folder more secured than the nuclear codes- Danny needs to ask him on a date first.

[p0orbaby]

The Dog House

summary: leah misses date night, she tries to make it up to you

warnings: leah being leah i guess…

a/n: based off this request !

word count: 1.2k

-

Leah’s been distracted lately. It’s not that you’re not important to her—you are—but there’s a lot going on. Training, media obligations, a sudden obsession with learning to bake sourdough bread for reasons you don’t quite understand. And her house is full of these massive jars of starter that she’s named things like “Gertrude” and “Stephen” and “Samantha.” Stephen’s the strongest one, apparently. Not that you care.

You’re trying to be supportive. Really, you are. But it’s getting weird.

So when you text her a gentle reminder about date night, you’re half-expecting a response that sounds like it’s written by one of those clunky bots—like, “Of course, darling! Can’t wait to see you tonight! ❤️❤️❤️” That’s what she’d usually do. Instead, you get nothing.

Hours pass. You start to get annoyed. Then you get anxious. Then you start wondering if maybe Leah’s planning some big surprise and that’s why she’s not responding. You imagine her secretly arranging a rooftop dinner with fairy lights and a string quartet, where she’ll confess she’s been so preoccupied because she’s actually writing a book about how incredible you are.

But then you come back to reality and grasp she probably just forgot.

By 7 PM, you’re pacing around the flat, wearing the outfit you picked out two days ago—a dress you specifically bought because Leah said you looked “so fucking sexy” in red, even though it’s so tight you can’t even breathe properly. Your makeup is perfect, your hair is styled, and you’re sitting on the couch, stewing in a potent cocktail of Chanel No. 5 and disappointment.

Finally, you text her again.

> Hey, you on your way?

Nothing.

Ten minutes later, still nothing.

By 8 PM, you’re starting to wonder what the protocol is for someone forgetting a date night. Do you call? Do you show up to their house with a “We need to talk” face? Do you… dump them? No, that’s too extreme, even though it would make a great story for your friends.

Finally, at 8:13, your phone buzzes.

> Shit. Be there in 20. Promise. Don’t hate me

You almost laugh, except you’re too irritated to find anything funny right now. Twenty minutes? Twenty minutes is nothing. She probably still smells like whatever alien protein shakes she drinks after training, which you pretend to like but secretly think taste like a mix of chalk and regret.

But you wait. Because you love her. Or because you’re a sucker. Or both.

Leah arrives at 8:42, disheveled and clearly not sorry enough. She’s holding a Tesco bag, which is never a good sign. Tesco bags mean last-minute attempts at forgiveness, and you don’t care how cute she looks in her sweats.

Okay, you care a little, but still.

“I’m so sorry,” she says as she bursts through the door, dropping the bag for life onto the floor like she’s just run a marathon. “I lost track of time”

You cross your arms and give her a look. The kind of look that says, Really?

“I know, I know,” she continues, talking at a speed that suggests she’s trying to cram a day’s worth of apologies into the next thirty seconds. “I’ve been so caught up with—”

“—Stephen?”

Leah blinks. “Stephen?”

“Your sourdough. Stephen”

“Oh. Right.” Leah runs a hand through her hair, which only makes it messier. “I might’ve forgotten to feed him, too”

“I’m sure he’s devastated,” you say, deadpan.

“I’m devastated,” Leah says, doing her best impression of someone who’s sincerely regretful. She takes a step closer, giving you that puppy-dog look that normally melts you but tonight just feels like she’s trying to disarm a bomb. “But I have a plan”

You raise an eyebrow. “A plan?”

“Yeah. A plan to make it up to you.” She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’s about to reveal a new Tesla or something.

You stare at her, unimpressed. “Does it involve anything that’s not in that bag?”

She laughs, and you can’t help but soften a little. She’s got this laugh that makes you feel like everything is going to be okay, even when she’s screwed up royally.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing the bag and heading to the kitchen. “Trust me. You’ll love it”

You don’t follow her immediately. You want to see how this plays out before you commit to pretending everything is okay. So you stand there in the doorway, watching as she pulls out ingredients that don’t really go together.

“Leah, what exactly are you planning to do with pickles, chocolate syrup, and a single red onion?”

She grins at you like she’s just cracked the code to the universe. “It’s a surprise”

“I’m surprised you even made it here alive if that’s what you’ve been eating lately”

Leah’s grin doesn’t waver. She’s on a mission now, and there’s no stopping her. “Look, just sit down. I’ve got this”

You sit, but mostly because your feet hurt in the heels you’re wearing and the sofa is closer than the bedroom. Leah’s bustling around the kitchen, and you can’t tell if she’s actually cooking or just making noise to buy herself more time.

Minutes later, she emerges with a tray. The tray has candles on it, which is at least a step in the right direction. Then you see what she’s made.

Two plates of what can only be described as… nachos. But they’re not nachos. They’re a weird interpretation of nachos where the tortilla chips have been replaced with some kind of protein bar, the cheese is… okay, there’s no cheese, and the toppings are just random things she found in your fridge.

She sets the tray down in front of you with the pride of a five-star chef presenting their signature dish.

“Voilà!” she announces, beaming.

You stare at the concoction in front of you, then back at her. “Leah, what the hell is this?”

“It’s my way of saying sorry”

You look at her, then at the nachos again. “You could’ve just said ‘I’m sorry’ like a normal person”

“But this is better,” she insists, her enthusiasm unwavering. “It’s like, an experience”

“Yeah, I’m experiencing regret,” you say, eyeing the “nachos” with suspicion.

Leah laughs again, this time a little sheepishly. “Okay, so maybe the food’s not great. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“You’re seriously expecting me to eat this?” you ask, poking at one of the protein bars with your fork like it might bite back.

Leah’s face falls just a little, and suddenly, you realise that she’s actually trying. She’s terrible at this—so, so terrible—but she’s trying.

And that’s why you love her.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh. “But if I get food poisoning, you’re sleeping on the couch”

She grins, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. “Deal”

You end up eating the nachos. They’re awful, but Leah’s so happy you’re eating them that you can’t help but smile. She’s sitting there, watching you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world, and you can’t help but remember that this is her way of showing she cares.

After dinner, she pulls out a bottle of wine—an actual, normal bottle of wine—and the two of you sit on the sofa, talking and laughing until you’re both too tired to keep your eyes open.

She falls asleep first, her head on your shoulder, snoring softly. You’re still a little annoyed at her, but you know she’ll make it up to you in other ways. And tomorrow, you’ll probably laugh about this whole thing.

[doreminimi]

love is blind [Bang Chan One-Shot]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Idol!Bang Chan x Teacher!Reader 

₊˚⊹♡⋆ 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 15.1k (I got a bit carried away sksksk)

‧͙☾⁺༓˚*･ 𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: None

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ 𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: In this modern era of finding love and vulnerability, Christopher and Y/N embark on an extraordinary journey in the experiment of "Love Is Blind." From the intimate and emotionally charged pods where they connect deeply without seeing each other, to the reveal and romantic getaway that cements their bond, their story explores the highs and lows of finding true love in unconventional ways. As they navigate the challenges of returning to their real lives, meeting families, and integrating their vastly different routines, their relationship is tested in ways they never anticipated. With moments of joy, tension, and growth, Christopher and Y/N learn what it means to truly commit to each other, culminating in a heartfelt preparation for their wedding. Will their love withstand the pressures of reality and blossom into forever?

a/n: Hi guys! I wrote this story because I’ve been recently obsessed with the Love Is Blind series, and it sparked an idea. I also noticed that there’s a Too Hot to Handle series about Bang Chan on here (do read her series @seospicybin — it’s so good, I’m obsessed! but remember it is for +18 audiences!). I thought, why not add a Love Is Blind one-shot to the mix? I hope you guys enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you have any suggestions or requests for stories, feel free to let me know—I’d love to hear your ideas. Don’t forget to like and comment if you enjoyed reading this story. Your support means the world to me! Thank you for reading, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts! 💕

One: 

Bang Chan adjusted the microphone inside his pod, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest as he took a steadying breath. Despite years of performing on the world’s biggest stages, this moment felt completely different. Here, he wasn’t the leader of Stray Kids or a global sensation—he was just Chris, a man hoping to connect with someone who saw him for who he truly was.

The anonymity of Love Is Blind was both exhilarating and terrifying. Without the weight of his career or the expectations of others, he felt a rare sense of freedom.

He tapped the microphone gently and leaned forward, his Australian accent warm and inviting. “Hi, I’m Christopher, but you can just call me Chris. What about you?”

There was a brief pause before a voice came through, light and confident. “Hi Chris, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Chris smiled, a bit of his nervousness fading. He leaned slightly closer to the opaque wall, as if that could somehow shorten the distance between them. “Nice to meet you too, Y/N. So, is this as weird for you as it is for me? How are you feeling about this whole... talking-to-a-wall situation?”

Y/N’s laugh was immediate, bright and disarming. “Oh, absolutely. It’s bizarre! I mean, I’ve had long phone conversations before, but knowing there’s a person on the other side who might... you know, become my future husband? That’s a first.”

Chris chuckled, his own nerves softening at her lighthearted tone. “Same here. It’s exciting, though, isn’t it? A bit nerve-wracking, but exciting. Like, this could actually lead to something real.”

“Exactly,” Y/N agreed. “Okay, let’s start simple. Tell me something about you—what’s your dream vacation?”

Chris leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Definitely the beach. Growing up in Sydney, the ocean was my happy place. There’s something about the sound of waves, the salt in the air—it just clears your head, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Y/N replied with a sigh. “Anywhere with a beach and good food? That’s my dream too. Add in no cell phones, and I’m sold. I’d love to completely disconnect for a while.”

Chris laughed softly. “Alright, but if we’re talking beaches, I need to know—are you competitive? Because I’m already imagining us having a sandcastle-building contest.”

Y/N’s tone turned playful. “Competitive? Let’s just say I don’t like to lose. But what about you?”

“Oh, I’m competitive, alright,” Chris said, his grin evident in his voice. “But I should warn you, I don’t lose easily.”

“We’ll see about that,” Y/N teased, her voice laced with mock challenge. “I hope you’re ready to eat your words.”

“So, Chris,” Y/N began, her voice curious. “If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

Chris hummed thoughtfully.  “Tough one, but I think I’d have to go with pizza. You can change the toppings, make it fancy, or keep it simple. Plus, who doesn’t love pizza? What about you?”

“Noodles,” Y/N said without missing a beat. “You can have them fried, in soup, hot or cold, with all kinds of meats, veggies, or sauces. Plus, there are so many different shapes, each one feels like a whole new experience!”

Chris laughed. “Solid choice. Okay, what’s your guilty pleasure TV show?”

“Oh, definitely The Great British Bake Off,” Y/N admitted. “There’s something so comforting about watching people bake under pressure while I’m curled up on the couch, eating snacks.”

Chris flashed a wide grin. “That’s a solid pick. Mine’s probably Friends. I’ve seen it so many times, it’s practically a comfort blanket at this point. And yes, I absolutely dominate at trivia.”

Y/N laughed, her voice playful. “Oh, is that so? Challenge accepted. Trivia showdown coming up—you better bring your A-game.”

A mischievous glint sparked in her eye as she leaned closer to the wall. “Alright, let’s switch gears. If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

Chris chuckled, the question catching him off guard. “Teleportation, without a doubt. Imagine skipping traffic or spontaneously showing up at a beach halfway around the world. Total game-changer.”

“Good choice,” Y/N said approvingly. “I’d go with the ability to stop time. Think of all the naps I could take and still get everything done!”

Chris laughed, his voice warm. “Now that’s both practical and genius. I’d never have thought of that, but honestly, I might be jealous of your choice.”

As their laughter echoed in the pods, both felt a growing ease and connection. The wall between them didn’t seem like a barrier—it was just part of the journey toward something real.

By the second day, Chris and Y/N’s conversations felt natural, as if they’d known each other for years. The initial nerves had faded, replaced by genuine curiosity and growing comfort.

“So, tell me about your family,” Y/N asked. “Do you have siblings?”

Chris smiled, leaning back. “I do. I’m the eldest of three. Growing up, I was always the one looking out for everyone else. I guess that’s why I’ve always been in leadership roles,it’s kind of ingrained in me.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure,” Y/N said empathetically.

“It was,” Chris admitted. “But it also taught me a lot about love and responsibility. My family’s my anchor. When I moved to a new country to pursue my career, they supported me, even though it meant being so far away. That kind of love... it’s something I want to give back.”

“That’s beautiful, Chris,” Y/N said softly. “It’s clear how much they mean to you.”

“What about you?” he asked. “What’s your family like?”

“Well,” she began, “I’m the oldest too. But things changed a lot when I lost my younger sister. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, but it also made me appreciate the little things. It’s why I ended up going into teaching,I wanted to make a difference, even in small ways.”

Chris’s voice softened. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must have been incredibly hard.”

“It was,” she admitted, “but it shaped who I am. Teaching gives me purpose. I love seeing kids discover their potential, it reminds me to keep pushing forward.”

“You sound like an amazing teacher,” Chris said sincerely. “Your students are lucky to have you.”

Y/N chuckled. “Thank you. And if I ever need to win over their attention, I’ll just bring you in to talk about your sandcastle skills. What about you? What’s something that’s shaped who you are today?”

Chris hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “Honestly? Music. It’s been my constant through everything, good days, bad days, everything in between. It’s how I express myself when words don’t feel like enough.”

Y/N’s voice softened. “That’s beautiful, Chris. It sounds like music isn’t just something you do, it’s who you are.”

Chris smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. “Exactly. Thanks for getting that, Y/N. Talking to you... it just feels easy.”

“It does,” Y/N agreed, her voice warm. “I can’t wait to see where this goes.”

Chris glanced at the clock, reluctant to end their conversation but knowing they’d have more time tomorrow. “I guess we have to wrap up for now,” he said, his tone tinged with regret. “But I can’t wait to talk to you again tomorrow.”

Y/N’s laugh was soft and shy. “Me too, Chris.”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N. See you tomorrow,” he said softly, listening as the gentle click of the door on her side signaled the end of their conversation.

As the session ended, Chris leaned back in his chair, a lingering smile on his face.

In the men’s lounge, Chris quickly bonded with a few of the other participants. Mason, a marketing executive, and Elijah, a chef, became his closest allies.

“Alright, Chris,” Mason said, leaning back on the couch. “Tell us about Y/N.”

Chris grinned, his dimples deepening. “She’s incredible. Thoughtful, smart, funny... Talking to her feels effortless. Like we just click, you know?”

Elijah raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re smitten.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Chris said, his grin widening. “But yeah, there’s something special about her. She has this way of making me feel comfortable, like I can just... be myself.”

Mason clapped him on the back. “Sounds like you’ve got a keeper, mate.”

Meanwhile, in the women’s lounge, Y/N found a confidante in Amelia, a bubbly nurse with a knack for reading people.

“You have to tell me about Chris,” Amelia said one evening, practically bouncing with excitement.

Y/N smiled, her cheeks flushing. “He’s amazing. He listens in a way that makes me feel... seen. It’s like he really cares about what I have to say.”

Amelia sighed dreamily. “That’s how it should be. So, are you falling for him?”

Y/N hesitated before nodding. “I think I might be. He just gets me in a way no one else has.”

By the fourth day, their conversations turned more reflective and meaningful.

“What does love mean to you?” Y/N asked one evening, her voice soft but steady.

Chris paused, considering his words. “I think love is showing up. Even when it’s hard, even when you’re scared. It’s about being vulnerable and trusting someone with the messy parts of you.”

“That’s beautiful,” Y/N said. “For me, love is a choice. It’s deciding every day to be there for someone, no matter what.”

Chris smiled. “I like that. It feels real.”

They spent hours talking about their hopes, fears, and dreams. Chris shared stories about nights when he felt lost and how he’d turn to his guitar for solace. Y/N opened up about her first teaching job and the joy of watching her students grow.

By the fifth day, Chris was certain he had found something truly extraordinary. Kneeling in his pod with a velvet box in hand, he took a deep breath, steadying himself before finding the words to speak.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but emotional, “I’ve never felt so connected to someone I’ve never even seen. You make me want to be better, to show up in ways I never have before. Will you marry me?”

There was a moment of silence, and then her voice came through, trembling with emotion. “Yes, Chris. I’ll marry you.”

Though separated by the pod walls, both felt an overwhelming sense of joy and certainty. Chris had found someone who understood him, not as an idol, but as a man. And Y/N had found someone who made her feel cherished and seen.

Their journey was just beginning.

Two:

The moment had arrived,the reveal. The anticipation was palpable as Chris, dressed sharply in a tailored suit, stood at one end of the runway. He fidgeted slightly, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his cuffs, his nerves visible despite his calm demeanor. At the other end, Y/N waited, her heart hammering in her chest. She smoothed down her dress, whispering to herself, “This is it. No turning back now.”

The sound of the sliding screens filled the room as they began to part. Y/N took a deep breath, her hands gripping the sides of her dress. As the screens opened fully, their eyes met for the first time.

Both froze.

Chris’s breath caught in his throat. She’s stunning.

Y/N’s eyes widened as recognition sparked. “Wait a second,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over her pounding heartbeat.

The man standing before her wasn’t just Chris, the kind, thoughtful voice she had grown to love in the pods. This was Bang Chan,Bang Chan, leader of Stray Kids, a global music sensation.

Chris noticed her hesitation and smiled nervously, his dimples deepening. He stepped forward tentatively, his voice soft. “Hi.”

Y/N blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Hi,” she replied shyly, her voice muffled against his shoulder as he pulled her into a warm embrace.

As they stepped back, her hands instinctively flew to her mouth. “You’re...you’re Bang Chan,” she finally managed, her voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

Chris scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. Surprise?”

Y/N laughed nervously, her eyes darting between his face and the rest of him. “This is... I mean, I didn’t expect, You’re him! I didn’t think I’d be meeting a literal superstar!”

Chris chuckled, his voice soothing. “I was kind of hoping I could just be ‘Chris’ for you. The guy you’ve been talking to in the pods, not the guy on stage.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath as she tried to process. “You’re still him. You’re still Chris. But... wow. This is a lot to take in.”

“I get it,” he said gently, his eyes searching hers. “I should’ve told you, but in the pods, I just wanted to be honest and real without all the noise that comes with... you know, my career.”

Y/N’s initial shock began to fade, replaced by a soft smile. “You’re right. And honestly, I’m glad I got to know you like that first. You’re amazing, Chris. Superstar or not.”

His smile widened, relief evident in his expression. “Thank you. That means everything to me.”

He reached for her hand, his touch grounding her. “Can we start over, right here? Just Chris and Y/N?”

She nodded, her smile growing. “I’d like that.”

They moved to the nearby bench, their hands naturally finding each other. Sitting down, Chris turned to her, his expression serious but filled with warmth. “You’re exactly who I hoped you’d be,” he said, his voice soft. “Inside and out.”

Y/N laughed nervously, still absorbing the reality of the moment. “It’s so weird seeing your face now. It’s like... I know you, but you’re also this whole new person.”

Chris chuckled. “I feel the same. You’re familiar, but seeing you now... you’re even more incredible than I imagined.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, and she squeezed his hand. “And you... well, you’re way more than I ever dreamed of.”

Chris took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket. “I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he said, his tone tinged with excitement.

Y/N watched as he knelt down on one knee, her breath catching.

“Y/N,” he began, opening a small velvet box to reveal a sparkling ring. “I already know I want to spend forever with you. Will you marry me?”

Her hands flew to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. “Chris,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She nodded fervently, her words spilling out. “Yes, Chris. Yes, I’ll marry you!”

He slipped the ring onto her finger, his hands steady despite his own emotions. Standing, he pulled her into a tight embrace, their laughter and tears mingling in a moment of pure joy.

As the screens began to close behind them, signaling the end of the reveal, they walked back toward their respective lounges. But their eyes never left each other, their faces lit with joy and the promise of the life they were about to build together.

Y/N glanced back at Chris one last time before stepping through the door, a wide smile spreading across her face. “This is going to be one heck of a story to tell,” she said, her voice tinged with excitement and disbelief.

Chris grinned back, his dimples deepening. “Our story,” he said softly. “And it’s just beginning.”

Three:

The following week, the couples began arriving at the resort, one limo at a time, provided by the production team. The energy was palpable as each pair prepared for the next stage of their journey.

Day One

Y/N was the first to arrive. Stepping out of the sleek black limo, she marveled at the beauty of the beachfront property. The hotel’s elegant façade and the sound of crashing waves immediately put her at ease. A staff member escorted her to her suite, a luxurious space with a spacious balcony overlooking the ocean.

She placed her bags in the bedroom, admiring the plush king-sized bed adorned with soft white linens, then began to explore the rest of the suite. She trailed her fingers along the marble countertops in the kitchenette, peeked into the enormous bathroom with its spa-like tub, and finally stepped out onto the balcony. The sunset cast a golden hue over the water, and Y/N smiled to herself, feeling a sense of peace.

Chris arrived shortly after. As his limo pulled up, he took a deep breath, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He was excited and a little nervous to see Y/N again after their reveal. He quickly made his way to their shared suite, the door opening with a soft click.

“Hey beautiful,” he whispered as he stepped inside, spotting her on the balcony. She turned around, her face lighting up as she saw him. He walked up to her and placed a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Long time no see.”

Y/N laughed softly, her heart fluttering at the sight of him. “You’re late,” she teased, leaning into him.

“Worth the wait?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Definitely,” she replied, her smile widening.

They spent the next few minutes exploring the suite together. Chris pointed out the little details he loved, like the vintage-inspired art on the walls and the sleek coffee maker in the kitchenette. Y/N couldn’t stop laughing as Chris dramatically tested the couch for “maximum comfort.”

Eventually, they found themselves back on the balcony, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Chris leaned against the railing, his arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “This feels unreal,” he said softly. “Like a dream.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes on the horizon. “But it’s our dream,” she replied. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

After a while, they began preparing for the evening’s event. Y/N slipped into a stunning crocheted bodycon dress that accentuated her figure, while Chris opted for a casual yet stylish beach-ready look: a cotton button-up shirt paired with khaki shorts.

“You look beautiful,” Chris said as Y/N adjusted her earrings.

“And you look like you belong on a magazine cover,” Y/N teased, brushing a hand over his shoulder.

Hand in hand, they strolled toward the poolside bar, anticipation bubbling as they prepared to meet the other couples.

On their first night at the resort, the couples gathered by the pool for drinks, laughter, and the much-anticipated moment of putting faces to the names they’d been hearing about in the pods. The warm breeze carried the faint sound of waves in the background as everyone slowly began to gather, the energy buzzing with curiosity.

The men grouped together by the bar while the women settled into lounge chairs near the pool. Both groups exchanged nervous glances, clearly intrigued by the people their significant others had been talking about during the pod experiment.

Mason, one of the more outspoken men, finally broke the ice. “Alright, let’s meet these women you’ve been talking about nonstop,” he said, nudging Chris playfully. “I need to see if Y/N is as amazing as you’ve made her sound.”

The women laughed from their side of the pool, clearly overhearing the comment. Amelia leaned over to Y/N and whispered, “They’re already hyping us up. Let’s see if they live up to the chatter.”

Y/N grinned. “No pressure, right?”

One by one, the men approached the women, introducing themselves and exchanging warm handshakes or hugs. Chris found himself locking eyes with Sarah first. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, smiling. “Mason hasn’t stopped talking about how funny you are.”

Sarah laughed. “I’m sure he’s exaggerating, but it’s nice to finally meet the guy Y/N won’t stop gushing about.”

When Chris finally reached Y/N, the room seemed to pause for a moment. He leaned down slightly, grinning. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks warming. “And this is the guy who’s been making me blush in the pods.”

The group naturally broke off into smaller conversations, everyone eager to learn more about each other. Mason was deep into a conversation with Amelia about their mutual love for hiking, while Chris and Y/N mingled with the others, exchanging stories about their pod experiences.

Eventually, the women regrouped on the lounge chairs, a playful energy bubbling between them. “Alright,” Amelia announced, holding her drink up dramatically, “it’s time to interrogate these men. Let’s call them over one by one.”

The women erupted into laughter as Sarah called Mason over first. “Come on, Mason! Time to put you in the hot seat.”

Mason walked over, mock apprehension on his face. “What are you guys plotting?”

Amelia grinned. “What’s your favorite thing about Sarah?”

Mason’s expression softened as he looked over at Sarah. “It’s her humor. She has this amazing ability to make everyone feel comfortable and laugh, no matter the situation.”

The women cheered as Mason walked back to the bar, shaking his head and laughing. One by one, the men were called over and asked the same question. Each gave heartfelt answers, earning playful teasing and cheers from the women.

Finally, it was Chris’s turn. “Alright, Y/N,” Amelia said, turning to her with a grin. “Get ready. Your boy’s about to spill all.”

Chris walked over, his usual confident demeanor softened by the teasing smiles of the women. “What’s going on here?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Chris,” Amelia began dramatically, “what’s your favorite thing about Y/N?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Her heart,” he said simply, his eyes finding Y/N’s. “She’s got this way of making everyone around her feel seen and appreciated. Every time I talk to her, I feel like I can be completely myself. And her laugh? Don’t even get me started.”

The women swooned collectively, cheering loudly as Y/N blushed. “Okay, that was definitely the best answer of the night,” Amelia declared.

Chris returned to the bar, shaking his head and laughing as the women continued their playful teasing. Y/N leaned back in her chair, her heart full from the words he’d shared.

The group dissolved into laughter, and the evening continued with lively games, shared anecdotes, and even a chaotic impromptu karaoke session where Chris belted out a tune. Y/N cheered louder than anyone else, clapping along with the beat.

After the couples mingled for a while, the men naturally gravitated to a corner by the pool, drinks in hand, while the women gathered near the lounge chairs. Chris leaned back in his seat, listening to the other men recount their pod journeys and impressions of their partners.

“So, Chris,” one of the guys asked, nudging him, “what’s Y/N like in person? She seems really sweet.”

“She’s incredible,” Chris replied, his dimples deepening with his smile. “She’s so much more than I expected. She’s got this strength that’s so inspiring but also this warmth that just draws you in. Honestly, she makes me feel grounded.”

The other men nodded in approval. “That’s a big deal, man. You seem smitten,” one of them teased.

Chris chuckled. “Guilty. What about you guys? How are things looking now that we’re out of the pods?”

The conversation turned lively, with each man sharing stories of their first impressions and the quirks they were discovering about their partners. Laughter erupted as one recounted a chaotic wardrobe mishap earlier in the day, and another shared how his partner had dominated him in a poolside trivia game.

“It’s crazy how different this is now that we’re face-to-face,” Chris remarked. “But honestly, I think it’s made everything feel...real.”

The others nodded in agreement, raising their glasses for a toast. “Here’s to surviving the pods and what comes next.”

Meanwhile, Y/N and the other women sat on lounge chairs, chatting animatedly. One of the women leaned closer to Y/N. “Okay, spill. What’s Chris like in real life?”

Y/N smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s amazing. He’s thoughtful and funny, and honestly, I think I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he’s real. And those dimples...they’re dangerous,” she added with a laugh.

The group laughed along, and one of the women playfully fanned herself. “Dimples will get you every time.”

“So, what’s surprised you the most about him?” another asked.

“How much he pays attention,” Y/N said, her voice softening. “In the pods, I knew he was a good listener, but now I see how much he remembers the little things I’ve shared. Like earlier today, he mentioned this random thing I said about my favorite flowers, and I didn’t even remember telling him.”

One of the women sighed dramatically. “Ugh, he sounds perfect. Can we trade?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Not a chance.”

The women exchanged more stories, comparing notes about their partners’ habits, quirks, and sweet gestures. They cheered each other on, promising to support one another through the challenges ahead.

The conversations among the men and women set the tone for a night filled with camaraderie and connection. As the evening wound down, both groups left with a deeper appreciation for their relationships and the shared journey they were all embarking on.

Day Two

The sun peeked over the horizon, casting golden hues across the ocean as Chris bounded down the sandy path, his energy contagious even this early in the morning. He stopped by a row of surfboards neatly propped against a wooden rack, glancing back to see Y/N trudging behind him, her coffee still in hand.

“You’re way too cheerful for this hour,” she grumbled, taking a sip.

“That’s because today’s mission is to turn you into a pro surfer,” Chris declared, flashing his signature grin.

Y/N raised a skeptical brow, looking at the boards like they might attack her. “A pro? Let’s aim for ‘not immediately falling flat on my face,’ shall we?”

“Trust me,” he said, grabbing a board and handing it to her. “I’m a fantastic teacher. Just follow my lead.”

“And by ‘fantastic,’ you mean you’ll laugh at me when I inevitably wipe out?” she teased.

“Absolutely,” Chris replied with a wink.

After a quick lesson on the basics, they waded into the water. Chris demonstrated how to paddle and pop up onto the board with effortless grace. “See? Easy,” he said, balancing perfectly as a wave carried him to shore.

Y/N glared at him, hands on her hips. “Show-off.”

Her first few attempts were, predictably, disastrous. She fell forward, then backward, swallowing a fair share of saltwater. Chris paddled over, chuckling. “You okay there, champ?”

“I’m fine,” she huffed, spitting out water. “Just rethinking all my life choices.”

“Come on,” he said, his voice encouraging. “You’re getting there. Just keep your knees bent and look straight ahead. You’ve got this.”

With his guidance,and a fair amount of determination,Y/N finally managed to stand on the board as a gentle wave carried her toward the shore.

“Look at me!” she shouted triumphantly, her arms flailing for balance.

“Who’s the pro now?” she teased, glancing back at Chris just before she lost her balance and tumbled into the water.

Chris paddled over, laughing so hard he nearly fell off his own board. “That was impressive for a solid three seconds.”

Y/N splashed him playfully. “You’re supposed to be encouraging, not heckling.”

By the afternoon, the adrenaline of surfing gave way to the peaceful calm of paddleboarding. The turquoise waters shimmered under the sun as they drifted side by side.

“So,” Y/N said, balancing her paddle across her lap. “What’s a guilty pleasure you’d never admit on TV?”

Chris paused, his paddle still. “Rom-coms. I’m a sucker for a good ‘enemies-to-lovers’ plot.”

“No way!” Y/N said, nearly tipping her board as she burst into laughter. “That’s my favorite trope! Alright, we’re definitely having a rom-com movie night after this.”

“You’re on,” he replied, his grin widening. “But only if you promise not to roast me for quoting all the lines.”

“Deal,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, they sat at a small table on the beach, the flicker of candlelight casting soft shadows. Plates of fresh seafood and tropical drinks adorned the table.

Chris reached for Y/N’s hand across the table. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this at peace,” he admitted, his voice quiet but sincere.

Y/N smiled, her fingers curling around his. “Me neither. This feels... easy. Like it’s supposed to be this way.”

He nodded, his eyes locking with hers. “I could get used to this.”

“Well, you’ll have to keep up the charm, Mr. Surf Pro,” she teased.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Chris replied with a smirk. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

Later that night, they sat on the sand, the ocean waves gently lapping at their feet. Chris leaned back, resting on his hands as he looked up at the stars.

“Alright, my turn to ask a tough question,” Y/N said, tilting her head. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance?”

Chris thought for a moment. “Honestly? Just... take a step back. Life’s always been so go-go-go. I’ve never really taken the time to just be.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. “Well, consider this your start. No deadlines, no expectations. Just... being.”

Chris smiled at her, his expression filled with gratitude. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Maybe it is,” she replied, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Day Three

The third day brought a new kind of excitement as Chris and Y/N ventured into a charming seaside town. The cobblestone streets were lined with colorful storefronts, their windows displaying everything from hand-painted ceramics to jars of locally made jam. The air was thick with the aroma of freshly baked pastries, sea salt, and hints of lavender from a nearby flower stand.

Y/N’s eyes lit up as she spotted a small bakery with its doors wide open, the scent of buttery croissants wafting through. “We’re stopping there,” she announced, grabbing Chris’s hand and tugging him along.

“You don’t have to convince me,” he said, laughing as he pulled out his wallet. “I smelled that place from two blocks away.”

Inside, the bakery was cozy and inviting, with wooden shelves stacked high with golden pastries and an old chalkboard menu listing the day’s specials. Y/N pressed her face to the glass display case, eyes darting between the flaky croissants, glistening fruit tarts, and delicate macarons.

“Everything looks so good,” she said, practically drooling.

Chris leaned over her shoulder, pointing to a chocolate almond croissant. “That one. Trust me, it’s life-changing.”

They ordered a selection to share, along with iced lattes, and found a small table by the window. Y/N took a bite of the croissant and closed her eyes, letting out an exaggerated groan of delight. “Oh my god. This is heavenly. How did you know?”

“I have excellent taste,” Chris said smugly, taking a bite of his own.

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “We’ll see about that when we debate ice cream flavors later.”

After their indulgent breakfast, they wandered the streets, stumbling upon a street performer playing a soft melody on his guitar. The music drifted through the air, drawing a small crowd. Y/N stopped in her tracks, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

“You know what I’m going to say,” she teased, turning to Chris.

“No,” he said immediately, though the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

“Come on,” she coaxed, nudging him with her elbow. “You’re literally a musician. How can you not?”

“I’m not doing it,” Chris insisted, shaking his head.

“Please?” Y/N said, her eyes widening in mock pleading. “For me?”

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But only because you’re cute when you beg.”

Y/N clapped excitedly as Chris approached the street performer, who graciously handed over his guitar. “Don’t judge me too harshly,” he muttered to the crowd before launching into a cheesy rendition of I'm Yours by Jason Mraz.

The playful tone of his voice and exaggerated gestures had everyone laughing and clapping along. Y/N’s cheeks flushed red as he pointedly sang the chorus to her, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

When he finished, the small crowd erupted into applause, and Y/N threw her arms around him. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, laughing. “But I love it.”

“Ridiculous and charming,” he corrected, grinning. “Don’t forget that.”

The rest of the day was spent wandering through the town’s quirky shops. They tried on silly hats at a boutique, debated over the best scents for candles at a local artisan’s stall, and picked out small souvenirs for each other.

“Okay,” Chris said, holding up a tiny ceramic seahorse. “This one’s for you because it reminds me of how determined you were on that surfboard yesterday.”

Y/N laughed, taking the figurine from him. “And this,” she said, handing him a keychain shaped like a wave, “is for you, because you’re officially my surf coach now.”

They continued their playful banter as they explored, eventually stumbling upon an ice cream stand with a long line of locals,a clear sign of quality.

“Alright,” Y/N said as they approached the counter. “What’s your flavor?”

“Chocolate. No contest,” Chris said confidently.

“Boring,” Y/N teased. “Strawberry’s where it’s at.”

“Strawberry?” Chris repeated, feigning disbelief. “You’ve lost all credibility.”

As they sat on a bench overlooking the pier, licking their cones, they continued their mock argument.

“You’re objectively wrong,” Y/N declared.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Chris said with a smirk. “But deep down, you know chocolate is superior.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of pink and orange, Y/N leaned her head on Chris’s shoulder. The gentle sound of waves lapping against the pier added to the tranquil atmosphere.

“This is officially one of my favorite days,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of contentment.

Chris kissed the top of her head, his hand resting lightly on hers. “Mine too. You make everything better.”

Day Four

“Today,” Chris announced with theatrical flair as they entered the resort’s open-air kitchen, “we conquer the art of pasta-making. Prepare to be amazed.”

Y/N paused, eyeing him skeptically as she tied her apron. “Amazed at how badly this will go?”

“Have a little faith,” Chris teased, adjusting his own apron with a flourish. “I’m practically a professional chef.”

She snorted, rolling up her sleeves. “You burnt toast the other day.”

“Details,” he said, waving her off dramatically. “That was a fluke. Today, I’m in my element.”

The kitchen was set up with individual stations, each equipped with flour, eggs, rolling pins, and pasta machines. The instructor,a jovial Italian chef named Marco,gave them a brief tutorial on making fresh pasta.

“Remember,” Marco said with a heavy accent, “the dough must be smooth, like a baby’s cheek.”

“Smooth like a baby’s cheek,” Chris repeated, winking at Y/N. “Got it.”

It wasn’t long before the kitchen descended into chaos. Chris’s dough came together quickly, the perfect blend of soft and elastic. He kneaded it with surprising precision, humming a little tune as he worked.

Y/N, on the other hand, was struggling. Her dough stubbornly stuck to the counter, her hands, and even the rolling pin.

“Are you sure you’re following the instructions?” Chris asked, leaning over to inspect her work.

“Excuse me, Chef Gordon Ramsay,” Y/N shot back, “but this dough has a personal vendetta against me.”

Chris chuckled, effortlessly rolling out his own dough into a perfect sheet. “Natural talent,” he said smugly, tossing a small pinch of flour in her direction.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, a mischievous glint flashing. “Oh, it’s on.”

She grabbed a handful of flour and flicked it at his face, laughing as it landed on his nose and hair.

Chris froze, blinking through the cloud of flour. “You just declared war,” he said, his voice low and playful.

Before she could react, he scooped up a handful of flour and lobbed it back at her, laughing as she squealed and ducked.

The instructor sighed dramatically from across the room. “This is not how you make pasta!”

By the time they finished, the kitchen looked like a war zone. Flour covered the counters, the floor, and both of them. Despite the mess, they managed to produce two plates of pasta, though neither looked particularly appetizing.

Sitting at a small table overlooking the garden, they tasted their creations.

“Mine has character,” Y/N declared, twirling a forkful of slightly lumpy pasta.

“Character is code for uneven and chewy,” Chris countered, smirking as he took a bite of his perfectly uniform noodles. “Boringly perfect tastes better.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, taking a bite of his pasta. “Okay, fine. Yours is better. But mine has personality.”

“Personality doesn’t make up for the fact that you almost broke your teeth,” Chris teased, dodging a playful swat.

That evening, they lounged by the resort’s infinity pool, the moon casting a silver glow over the water. Each had a cocktail in hand, their earlier antics giving way to a quieter, more reflective mood.

Chris leaned back on the chaise lounge, swirling the ice in his glass. “You know, I used to sneak out of the house to write songs when I was younger. My parents thought I was sleeping, but I’d be in the garage scribbling lyrics.”

Y/N turned to him, intrigued. “What kind of songs?”

“Terrible ones,” he admitted, laughing. “But it didn’t matter. Writing was my escape. It felt like the only way I could say what I was feeling.”

“That’s amazing,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I used to make my cousins sit through my ‘teaching lessons.’ I’d make these little worksheets and quizzes, and they’d bribe me with candy to let them leave.”

Chris chuckled. “Sounds like you were a natural educator from the start.”

Y/N smiled, leaning her head back to look at the stars. “I guess we both found what we love early on.”

Chris glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. “You know, I’ve been on a lot of adventures, but this? Sitting here with you, talking about life? This might be my favorite.”

She turned to him, her cheeks warming under his gaze. “You’re going to make me blush, Chris.”

“Good,” he said with a grin, raising his glass. “Here’s to many more moments like this.”

Y/N clinked her glass against his. “To many more.”

Day Five

By the fifth day, Chris and Y/N had settled into an effortless rhythm,a blend of playful teasing and deeply meaningful conversations. The morning began lazily, with the soft sound of waves in the distance and the gentle strumming of Chris’s guitar on the balcony.

Y/N emerged from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand, and leaned against the doorframe, watching him. The sunlight caught the angles of his face, and she smiled to herself, feeling a warmth she couldn’t quite explain.

“Good morning, Rockstar,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

Chris glanced up, his dimples showing as he grinned. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” she replied, settling into the chair across from him. “Play something for me?”

“What do you want to hear?” he asked, his fingers pausing on the strings.

“Surprise me,” she said, resting her chin in her hand.

He nodded, strumming a few soft chords before launching into a gentle, romantic melody. His voice, low and smooth, carried the tune effortlessly. The lyrics spoke of longing, connection, and finding someone who felt like home.

When he finished, Y/N clapped softly, her smile wide. “You’re unfairly talented. It’s actually annoying.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teased, setting the guitar aside. “Do you play any instruments?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nope. I tried piano as a kid, but my teacher said I had the attention span of a goldfish.”

Chris laughed. “That’s a shame. You could’ve been my duet partner.”

“Well,” she said with a grin, “I’ll just have to be your number-one fan instead.”

In the afternoon, they headed to the beach for a snorkeling excursion. The water was crystal clear, revealing vibrant coral reefs teeming with marine life. Chris helped adjust Y/N’s mask, his hands steady as he tightened the strap.

“Alright,” he said, his voice muffled slightly by his snorkel. “You ready to meet some fish?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/N replied, though her wide eyes suggested she wasn’t entirely confident.

They waded into the water and dipped below the surface. Y/N’s initial nervousness melted away as she marveled at the underwater world,schools of colorful fish darting among the coral, sea urchins nestled in crevices, and the gentle sway of anemones.

Chris stayed close, pointing out interesting sights and giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up every time she spotted something new.

Suddenly, a small, curious fish darted toward Y/N, brushing against her leg. She squealed, surfacing quickly.

“What happened?” Chris asked, laughing as he came up beside her.

“That fish got way too personal!” she said, her voice half-exasperated, half-amused.

Chris laughed so hard he nearly swallowed seawater. “This was your idea, remember?”

“Yeah, and it was a great idea,until the fish decided to invade my personal space,” she retorted, making him laugh even harder.

They floated side by side, the gentle waves lulling them into a peaceful rhythm.

“This is amazing,” Y/N said, her voice softer now. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so... connected to everything.”

Chris nodded. “It’s pretty incredible. Moments like this remind you how small we are, in the best way.”

That evening, they found themselves back on the balcony, the sky painted in hues of orange, pink, and purple as the sun dipped below the horizon. The sound of the ocean was a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

Chris leaned against the railing, his gaze on the horizon. “What scares you most about this?” Y/N asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

He glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. “Letting you down,” he admitted. “I know my life can be chaotic,always moving, always busy. I don’t want that to overshadow what we have.”

Y/N reached out, her hand finding his. “We’ll figure it out,” she said firmly. “I don’t expect perfect,I just want us to try. That’s all I need.”

Chris smiled, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “You make me want to try,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

They stood there for a while, watching as the last rays of sunlight disappeared and the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky.

Later, they curled up together on the outdoor sofa, wrapped in a soft blanket. The night air was cool, but the warmth between them made everything feel just right.

Chris traced patterns on Y/N’s hand with his thumb, his voice low. “I don’t know how this happened, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head against his shoulder. “I was just thinking the same thing. It’s like... all the pieces just fit.”

They talked about their favorite moments from the week,the flour fight during pasta-making, their impromptu duet with the street performer, and Y/N’s three-second surfing triumph.

“You’ve made this week unforgettable,” Chris said, his voice soft.

“So have you,” Y/N replied, her eyes meeting his.

They sat in comfortable silence after that, the weight of the moment settling over them. Both knew they’d found something extraordinary,something worth holding onto long after the week was over.

Four:

The final morning of the honeymoon phase arrived, and the couples were gathered together at the resort’s grand dining area. The hosts greeted them with a bittersweet announcement. “The holiday is over,” one began. “Now, the real test begins. You’ll be returning to your day-to-day lives. The following weeks will determine if the connection you’ve built can survive outside this bubble.”

There was a mix of excitement and apprehension among the couples. The hosts continued, “During this phase, you will meet each other’s families, experience their homes, jobs, and routines. You’ll get a glimpse into the realities of what married life might look like for you. This is your chance to see how your lives align.”

As the gathering concluded, the couples were handed their phones for the first time in weeks. “You can reconnect with your loved ones,” the hosts explained. “Update them on what’s happened in the pods and during your vacation.”

Y/N turned on her phone, her notifications exploding with missed messages from friends and family. Beside her, Chris chuckled as he scrolled through similar chaos. “Looks like we have a lot of catching up to do,” he said.

Returning home meant diving headfirst into the rhythm of their daily lives, a stark contrast to the dreamy bubble they had shared at the resort. The transition was jarring, but both Y/N and Chris were determined to make it work.

For Y/N, her first day back at school was chaotic yet fulfilling. As soon as she walked into her classroom, a chorus of excited voices greeted her.

“Miss Y/N! You’re back!”

“Where did you go? Did you go somewhere fun?”

“Did you bring us souvenirs?”

Y/N laughed, setting her bag down on her desk. One of her younger students, Sarah, tugged on her sleeve, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Miss Y/N, was it a secret mission?” she asked, whispering as if she’d uncovered something big.

“Something like that,” Y/N replied with a playful smile. “Let’s just say it was a very special adventure.”

Her students buzzed with excitement, their imaginations running wild. The joy of being back reminded Y/N why she loved teaching, but the demands of her job quickly caught up to her. Lesson planning, grading, and endless meetings filled her days, leaving her exhausted by the time she got home. Still, she made it a point to text Chris during her breaks, sharing snippets of her day,a funny thing a student said, a picture of the classroom art project, or simply a quick, “Hope your day’s going okay.”

Meanwhile, Chris was equally swamped at his music company. His team welcomed him back enthusiastically, but a mountain of projects awaited him. Deadlines loomed, and the pressure to catch up was intense. Late nights in the studio became the norm as he worked to tie up loose ends and push forward with new initiatives.

During one particularly hectic day, Chris slipped into a quiet corner of the studio and dialed Y/N’s number. The line rang twice before she picked up.

“Hey, you,” she said, her voice soft but tired.

“Hey,” he replied, leaning against the wall. “How’s my favorite teacher?”

She chuckled. “Exhausted. My kids were like little tornadoes today. One of them tried to convince me that glue sticks are edible.”

“Sounds like an adventurous day,” he said, grinning. “I, on the other hand, have been trapped in the studio for hours. If I hear one more drum loop, I might lose it.”

“Can’t you take a break?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

“This is my break,” he said warmly. “Talking to you.”

Her heart softened, and for a moment, the exhaustion melted away. “I miss you,” she admitted quietly.

“I miss you too,” he said. “But we’ll get through this. Just a little more juggling, and we’ll find our balance.”

Balancing their busy schedules was no easy task. There were days when their texts went unanswered for hours and calls were cut short by unexpected meetings or studio interruptions. Yet, they both made an effort.

One evening, Y/N sent him a photo of a sunset she’d caught on her drive home with the caption, “Reminded me of our trip. Hope your day’s winding down.”

Chris replied with a quick selfie from the studio, his headphones askew and a tired but playful smile on his face. “Not quite, but this helped. You always know how to make my day better.”

Though they were miles apart, those little moments of connection kept them tethered to each other. Both Y/N and Chris knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but they were determined to navigate it together, one day at a time.

The weekend brought the much-anticipated meeting with Y/N’s family. Chris, dressed in a crisp button-up shirt and jeans, clutched a bouquet of flowers in one hand while the other fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve as they walked up the driveway to her parents’ house.

Y/N noticed his nervous energy and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re nervous,” she teased, her eyes twinkling.

Chris chuckled nervously. “Just a little,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “Meeting the parents is a big deal. What if they don’t like me?”

“They’ll love you,” she said confidently. “Just be yourself. And maybe don’t mention the time you set off the fire alarm trying to cook.”

He laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Noted. No fire alarm stories.”

The door opened before they could knock, revealing Y/N’s mother, who greeted them with a warm smile. “There you are!” she exclaimed, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. Her gaze then shifted to Chris, scanning him curiously but kindly. “And this must be the famous Chris.”

Chris stepped forward, extending the bouquet. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

Her mother’s smile widened as she accepted the flowers. “A gentleman. I like him already. Come in, both of you.”

Inside, Y/N’s father stood near the dining table, his arms crossed in a posture that was more analytical than intimidating. His handshake with Chris was firm, deliberate, and conveyed an unspoken message: I’m watching you.

“Good to meet you, sir,” Chris said evenly, meeting his gaze.

“Good grip,” her father replied with a small nod of approval. “That’s a start.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, pulling Chris toward the living room.

As dinner was served, the atmosphere began to relax. The conversation started light, with Chris sharing anecdotes about his work in the music industry and Y/N’s mother gushing over the stories of their recent trip. Her father, however, steered the conversation toward more serious topics.

“So, Chris,” he began, setting his fork down and fixing him with a pointed look, “what are your plans for the future?”

Chris didn’t flinch. “I’ve worked hard to build a career I’m proud of,” he said, his voice steady. “But I’ve realized that having someone to share life with makes everything more meaningful. Y/N has shown me what that could look like, and I’m committed to making sure we build something strong together.”

Y/N’s father nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Good answer.”

Her mother smiled, clearly charmed by Chris’s sincerity. “You know,” she said, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/N this happy. It’s good to know you’re treating her well.”

“She makes it easy,” Chris replied, glancing at Y/N with a warm smile.

By the time dessert was served, the initial tension had dissolved into laughter and easy conversation. Y/N’s father even seemed impressed when Chris volunteered to help with the dishes.

As they stood by the sink, her father handed him a towel. “You’re a hard worker, I’ll give you that,” he said gruffly. “But relationships take more than that.”

“I understand, sir,” Chris replied, meeting his gaze. “I’m not perfect, but I’m willing to put in the effort for Y/N. She’s worth it.”

Her father gave a small nod, the faintest trace of a smile on his face. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

When it was time to leave, Y/N’s mother hugged her tightly at the door. “He’s wonderful,” she whispered. “You’ve found someone special.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling. “I think so too.”

As they walked to the car, Chris let out a long breath. “Well, that was... intense.”

Y/N laughed, slipping her hand into his. “You did great. I think you might’ve even impressed my dad.”

“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m pretty sure he was trying to bore a hole into my soul during that handshake.”

“He does that with everyone,” she assured him, grinning. “But for the record, my mom already adores you.”

Chris looked relieved, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good. Because I adore her daughter.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she leaned against him as they walked. Meeting her family was a milestone, and Chris had passed with flying colors.

The following weekend, it was Y/N’s turn to meet Chris’s family in Sydney. The flight was a whirlwind, and as they arrived at his childhood home, Y/N felt her nerves creeping in. “Do I look okay?” she asked, adjusting her dress.

Chris laughed softly and kissed her temple. “You look perfect,” he said, squeezing her hand. “They’re going to love you. Trust me.”

The door opened before they could knock, revealing Chris’s mother, who greeted them with open arms. “Welcome, Y/N,” she said warmly, pulling her into a hug. “We’ve heard so much about you. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“Thank you for having me,” Y/N replied, her nerves easing slightly at the warmth of her welcome.

Chris’s father appeared next, shaking Y/N’s hand firmly. “We’ve been looking forward to this,” he said, his tone kind but appraising. “Chris’s been singing your praises.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” Y/N joked, earning a chuckle.

Hannah, Chris’s younger sister, was the first to approach Y/N. At 20, she was vibrant and brimming with curiosity. “So, you’re the famous Y/N,” Hannah said with a teasing smile. “Chris talks about you nonstop.”

Y/N grinned, feeling more at ease. “I hope it’s all good things.”

“Mostly,” Hannah joked, nudging her brother. “He left out how pretty you are, though.”

Dinner was a lively affair, filled with animated conversation and heartfelt moments. Chris’s mother served a delicious spread, and the family quickly made Y/N feel at home. Chris’s father shared stories about his childhood, many of which had Y/N laughing so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes.

“He was always the most responsible one,” his father said, a touch of pride in his voice. “But don’t let that fool you,he was just as mischievous as the rest of them.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Chris interjected, shaking his head. “I was an angel.”

“Sure you were,” Hannah teased, rolling her eyes. “Like the time you got us locked out of the house because you were busy playing your guitar on the roof?”

Y/N leaned into Chris, laughing. “I need to hear more of these stories.”

“I’ll tell you all the embarrassing ones later,” Hannah promised with a grin.

Later in the evening, Y/N and Hannah found themselves chatting on the back patio, the cool Sydney air wrapping around them. Hannah’s teasing demeanor gave way to a more serious tone. “So, how’s it really going?” she asked. “With Chris, I mean.”

Y/N took a moment to consider the question. “It’s amazing,” she admitted, “but it’s not without challenges. We’re both figuring out how to balance our lives with this new relationship.”

Hannah nodded knowingly. “He works a lot. Sometimes I worry he doesn’t slow down enough to enjoy the little things.”

“I’ve noticed that too,” Y/N said, her voice thoughtful. “But I think he’s trying. He wants this to work just as much as I do.”

“I can tell,” Hannah said with a small smile. “He’s different with you. Happier. Just... don’t let him get away with making excuses, okay?”

Y/N laughed, appreciating her candor. “Deal.”

By the end of the night, Y/N felt a genuine connection with Chris’s family. As they prepared to leave, his mother hugged Y/N tightly. “You’re exactly what he needs,” she whispered. “Thank you for making him so happy.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the words. “He makes me happy too,” she replied, glancing at Chris, who was engaged in a cheerful goodbye with his father.

As they walked back to the car, Chris looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with warmth. “So? How did I do?”

“You mean how did I do?” Y/N teased, nudging him. “Your family’s wonderful. They’re so warm and welcoming. And Hannah’s a riot.”

Chris grinned. “They loved you. I knew they would.”

Y/N smiled, slipping her hand into his. “Well, they raised a pretty great guy, so I’m not surprised.”

He stopped walking and turned to her, his expression suddenly serious. “Thank you for doing this,” he said softly. “It means a lot to me.”

“It means a lot to me too,” Y/N replied, leaning in to kiss him. Meeting his family was a milestone, and it felt like one more step toward the future they were building together.

After meeting Chris’s family, Y/N thought she had a good grasp of the important people in his life. But when Chris told her they’d be meeting his bandmates next, her stomach fluttered with a mix of excitement and nerves. These weren’t just his friends, they were his second family, his brothers in music and in life.

As they arrived at the studio, Chris gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, they’re going to love you. Just... brace yourself for the chaos. They’re not exactly subtle.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “Noted. Should I be scared?”

Chris smirked. “A little, maybe.”

The moment they stepped into the lounge area, a wave of energy hit them. The room was filled with laughter, loud voices, and snacks strewn across the table. All eyes turned to Y/N as Chris led her in.

“Guys,” Chris announced, his voice cutting through the noise, “this is Y/N.”

There was a brief pause before Felix bounded over, his face lit with excitement. “Finally! We’ve been dying to meet you!”

“Dying,” Han echoed dramatically, throwing himself onto the couch. “We thought he made you up!”

“Very funny,” Chris muttered, rolling his eyes.

Y/N smiled, instantly charmed by their playful energy. “It’s nice to meet you all. Chris talks about you guys all the time.”

“Does he now?” Lee Know said, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. “All good things, I hope.”

“Mostly,” Y/N teased, shooting Chris a playful look.

Seungmin smirked, crossing his arms. “Well, if you’re here, you must already know that he’s a bit... intense. Has he started rearranging your schedule yet?”

“Not yet,” Y/N laughed. “But he did try to reorganize my fridge the other day.”

The room erupted into laughter, Chris groaning as he ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ‘reorganize’ it. I just... suggested a more efficient layout.”

“Classic Chris,” Changbin said, shaking his head. “Always optimizing.”

“Alright, Y/N,” Han said, scooting closer with a mischievous grin. “You’ve got to hear some of the juicy stuff about Chris. Like the time he tripped on stage during our debut performance.”

Chris groaned, covering his face. “Don’t—”

Han ignored him, leaning in conspiratorially. “It was this dramatic fall too, like slow motion. And he tried to play it off by doing some weird spin.”

Y/N burst out laughing, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Chris. “Is that true?”

“It was not that dramatic,” Chris protested, his cheeks flushing. “And the spin was intentional.”

“It wasn’t,” Hyunjin added with a smirk. “But we all pretended it was because we felt bad for him.”

Felix chimed in. “Or the time he accidentally called himself ‘Bang Can’ during an interview and didn’t realize it until the fans started trending it.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Chris said, throwing a cushion at Felix, who dodged it with a laugh.

“Oh, no, we’re just getting started,” Changbin said, grinning. “Y/N, did he tell you how he tried to bake us cookies once and used salt instead of sugar?”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her laughter spilling out. “No way!”

“Way,” Seungmin said, his tone deadpan. “He tried to bribe us with free coffee to forget about it.”

Chris sighed dramatically, though he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “You guys are supposed to make me look good, not ruin my image.”

“That’s our job as your bandmates,” Han quipped. “To keep you humble.”

As the afternoon went on, the teasing turned into genuine conversation. The members asked Y/N about her life, her job, and how she’d managed to put up with Chris so far.

“I’m honestly impressed,” Seungmin said. “You’ve survived this long.”

“He’s not that bad,” Y/N replied, smiling at Chris. “I think the secret is just letting him think he’s in charge.”

The room erupted in laughter, Chris shaking his head but clearly enjoying the banter.

By the end of the visit, Y/N felt like she’d been welcomed into a new family. The warmth and camaraderie between the members were undeniable, and their teasing only made her love Chris more—it was clear how much they all cared for him.

As they left the studio, Chris slipped an arm around her waist. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Not at all,” Y/N said, leaning into him. “I think I love them almost as much as I love you.”

Chris grinned, his dimples deepening. “Well, they already love you. So I guess it’s a win.”

However, as the days passed, the honeymoon glow began to dim, replaced by the realities of their demanding lives. Their packed schedules started to take a toll, and the cracks became evident one evening when Chris canceled plans for the third time in a row due to work.

Y/N, who had spent the day looking forward to their rare night together, couldn’t hold back her frustration anymore. She set her phone down with a heavy sigh, her disappointment evident. When Chris finally walked through the door, his tie loosened and fatigue written all over his face, she stood in the kitchen, her arms crossed.

“I get that your job is demanding, Chris, but I can’t keep feeling like I’m second place,” Y/N began, her voice tight with emotion. “I’m always the one making time, rearranging my schedule. It’s like... I’m the only one fighting for this.”

Chris dropped his bag by the couch and rubbed his temples. “It’s not about priorities, Y/N,” he said, his tone weary. “I’m trying to make this work, but my job,there’s so much at stake. Deadlines, responsibilities,they’re not just going to disappear because I want them to.”

“And you think I don’t have responsibilities?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “We both have demanding lives, Chris. But relationships take effort. I can’t be the only one putting us first.”

The room went silent for a moment, the weight of their words hanging heavily in the air. Chris let out a long breath and walked closer, leaning against the counter. “You’re right,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve been so caught up in trying to stay afloat at work that I didn’t realize how much I’ve been neglecting us.”

Y/N softened slightly at his admission but still felt the sting of being sidelined. “I just... I need to know that we’re on the same team here,” she said, her voice trembling. “That no matter how busy life gets, we’re making time for us.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I hear you,” he said. “And I hate that I’ve made you feel this way. What can we do to fix it? I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing this alone.”

Her arms uncrossed as she leaned against the counter across from him. “We need to make changes. Let’s set aside one night a week, no matter what’s going on, just for us. No work, no distractions,just time together. And if you have to cancel something, I need you to communicate better. Let me know what’s happening instead of me waiting around.”

Chris nodded earnestly. “Okay. I can do that. And I’ll try to plan better so I’m not always last-minute scrambling.”

They continued talking late into the night, unpacking their frustrations and figuring out how to navigate their busy lives together. By the time they were done, the tension had eased, and a sense of understanding filled the room.

“I’m not perfect,” Chris said softly, taking her hand. “But I want this to work. I want us to work.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her gaze steady. “Me too,” she said with a small smile. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

For the first time in weeks, they felt like they were on the same page, ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

Five:

As the wedding date approached, Y/N and Chris dove into preparations. The process was both exciting and overwhelming, filled with appointments, decisions, and moments of unexpected joy.

One sunny afternoon, they visited a tailor for Chris’s suit. Chris stepped onto the platform, looking slightly out of his element as the tailor measured his shoulders and chest.

“I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, glancing nervously at Y/N.

She smiled, stepping closer to adjust the fabric draped over his arm. “That’s what I’m here for,” she teased. “And don’t worry, you’re a natural. Look at you, already looking like a movie star.”

Chris chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” she said, tilting her head as she studied him. “Let’s go with the navy suit. It makes your eyes stand out, and it’s classic but modern,just like you.”

“You’re good at this,” Chris said, reaching for her hand. “Remind me to take you shopping every time I need a new outfit.”

“Deal,” Y/N replied with a laugh.

Later, Y/N went dress shopping with her mother, Chris’s mother, Hannah, Sarah, and Amelia. The boutique buzzed with excitement as the women sifted through racks of gowns, their voices mingling in a symphony of opinions and laughter.

“What about this one?” Hannah asked, holding up a dress with a plunging neckline.

Y/N’s mother raised an eyebrow. “It’s beautiful, but maybe not for the ceremony.”

“I’ll save it for the honeymoon,” Y/N joked, making everyone burst into laughter.

When Y/N emerged from the dressing room in a lace gown with a flowing train, the room fell silent. The intricate details of the dress caught the light, and the soft fabric seemed to mold perfectly to her figure.

“You look stunning,” Hannah whispered, her eyes wide with admiration.

Chris’s mother clasped her hands to her chest, tears welling up. “Absolutely breathtaking,” she said softly.

Y/N turned to face the mirror, her own reflection taking her breath away. Her mother stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “This is the one, isn’t it?”

Y/N blinked back tears, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is the one.”

Hannah enveloped her in a tight hug. “Chris is going to lose his mind when he sees you,” she said, her voice full of affection.

“He’d better,” Y/N replied with a watery laugh. “Otherwise, I’ll make him wear this dress.”

The room erupted in laughter again, and the boutique became a place of shared joy and anticipation. By the end of the day, Y/N felt more connected than ever to the people around her, and the dream of her wedding felt more real than ever.

As they left the boutique, Chris’s mother squeezed Y/N’s hand. “You’re going to make a beautiful bride,” she said warmly. “But more importantly, you’re going to make Chris very happy.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full. “Thank you. That means so much.”

The preparations were far from over, but in moments like these, Y/N realized that it wasn’t just about the wedding day,it was about the love and connections they were building along the way.

The week before the wedding, the excitement reached a fever pitch as Y/N and Chris celebrated their bachelor and bachelorette parties. It was a chance to unwind, laugh, and revel in the company of their closest friends before stepping into their new chapter.

Y/N’s party, orchestrated with flair by Amelia, was a beach-themed soirée that felt like a scene straight out of a romantic movie. The women gathered at an elegant beachfront venue, complete with twinkling fairy lights, tiki torches, and a soft ocean breeze. The air was filled with laughter, music, and the scent of tropical flowers.

As they sipped colorful cocktails and nibbled on gourmet hors d’oeuvres, Amelia clinked her glass to gather attention. “Ladies,” she began with a mischievous grin, “tonight, we celebrate our girl Y/N, who somehow managed to meet her soulmate without the usual dating disasters. Let’s make this a night she’ll never forget!”

The group erupted into cheers, raising their glasses high.

“Speech, speech!” someone called out, nudging Y/N.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Not a chance. You’re not getting me to cry before the big day!”

Amelia smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. That’s my job during the toast later.”

The night kicked off with an impromptu karaoke session. Y/N and Sarah took the stage for a hilariously off-key rendition of their favorite throwback hit, complete with dramatic dance moves.

“Whose idea was this?” Y/N panted, doubling over with laughter as the group roared.

“Yours,” Sarah shot back, grinning. “And you’re welcome!”

Later, as the evening mellowed into a series of heartfelt toasts, Amelia took center stage. “Y/N, you’ve always been the kind of friend who lights up a room just by walking in. Watching you and Chris together is like witnessing a fairy tale come to life. You deserve every bit of happiness coming your way. Here’s to you, my beautiful friend.”

Y/N dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Amelia. And thank all of you for being here tonight. You’ve made this whole journey so special.”

Amelia leaned over, whispering with a teasing smile, “So, are you ready to trade in freedom for married bliss? Any second thoughts?”

“Not even for a second,” Y/N replied with a grin. “He’s my person. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The night wrapped up with the women dancing barefoot on the sand, cocktails in hand, under the glow of the stars. At one point, Sarah raised her glass again. “To Y/N, the most radiant bride-to-be. Chris better know how lucky he is!”

“Oh, he knows,” Y/N replied, laughing, her cheeks glowing from the drinks and joy of the night.

Meanwhile, Chris’s bachelor party had a different vibe,a relaxed yet spirited gathering at a swanky rooftop bar overlooking the city skyline. Mason, took on the unofficial role of emcee, ensuring the night was filled with camaraderie, laughter, and just a touch of chaos.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Mason began, raising his beer, “a toast to Chris,the man who found love without having to swipe left or right a hundred times. Here’s hoping he doesn’t screw it up now!”

Laughter rippled through the group as Chris rolled his eyes, smirking. “Wow, Mason, your faith in me is truly overwhelming.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Mason replied with mock seriousness. “I just know your track record with grand gestures.”

The banter gave way to more heartfelt moments as Mason added, “In all seriousness, Y/N’s an incredible woman, and you’re lucky to have her. Here’s to a lifetime of happiness and no more karaoke attempts.”

Chris chuckled, raising his glass. “I’ll take that. And for the record, no karaoke at the wedding.”

The night unfolded with rounds of pool, dart games, and nostalgic stories about Chris’s less-than-graceful younger days.

“Do you guys remember the time Chris tried to impress a girl by quoting poetry and ended up reciting the Pledge of Allegiance instead?” one friend teased, causing the group to erupt in laughter.

Chris groaned, shaking his head. “It was dark! I panicked!”

As the laughter settled, Chris’s younger brother pulled him aside. “You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, his tone quiet but sincere.

Chris didn’t hesitate. “I’ve never been more ready for anything. Y/N’s everything I’ve ever wanted. She’s my future.”

Later, as the group stood against the backdrop of twinkling city lights, Mason clapped Chris on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky guy, mate. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t,” Chris replied with a smile. “And thanks for being here tonight. It means everything.”

As both parties wound down, Y/N and Chris found a quiet moment to exchange messages.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” they texted each other simultaneously.

The celebrations left them brimming with love and excitement, their hearts full as they looked forward to their future together. Surrounded by friends and laughter, they knew the best was yet to come.

Six:

The wedding day dawned with a sense of magic in the air. Y/N and Chris arrived at the venue separately, each in a flurry of excitement and nerves. The grand estate, with its sprawling gardens and elegant architecture, was the perfect backdrop for their love story’s most significant chapter.

Chris’s dressing room buzzed with energy as his groomsmen,his Stray Kids bandmates,filled the space with their usual blend of camaraderie, teasing, and chaos. Dressed in sleek suits, they were each focused on something different: Hyunjin fiddled with his hair in the mirror, Han was pretending to practice a wedding march, and Felix was intently tying Chris’s bowtie.

“Hold still, mate,” Felix said, a bit exasperated. “I can’t pin this lapel flower on if you keep fidgeting.”

Chris sighed but stood still, glancing nervously at the clock. “I’m not fidgeting; I’m preparing. This is a big day.”

Seungmin smirked, crossing his arms. “Big day? That’s the understatement of the year. Never thought I’d see the day our old man settled down.”

“Seriously,” Changbin chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “You’re always buried in your music projects, Chris. We figured you’d just marry your laptop.”

“Hey!” Chris protested, laughing. “I can multitask, okay? And for the record, I prioritize Y/N over my laptop.”

“Wow,” Han said dramatically, clutching his chest. “True love really does exist.”

Hyunjin turned from the mirror, shaking his head with mock solemnity. “Let’s be real. None of us expected Chris to even make it past the pods stage. Remember how awkward he was during the first few days?”

“Awkward?” Chris shot back, feigning offense. “I was charming.”

“Yeah,” Lee Know quipped, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Charmingly awkward. But hey, it worked, so I guess we’ll give you that.”

Felix finished pinning the flower and stepped back to admire his work. “There. Perfect. You actually look decent for once.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Lix,” Chris said dryly, adjusting his jacket.

Jeongin, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you look nervous, hyung. What’s up with that?”

Chris hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not nerves, exactly. It’s just... Y/N’s everything to me. I want today to be perfect for her.”

The room fell quiet for a moment, the teasing giving way to genuine camaraderie.

Changbin clapped him on the back. “You’ve got this, Chris. She’s lucky to have you, and honestly, you’re lucky to have her. You’re both going to kill it out there.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin added with a sly grin. “Even if she’s technically marrying an overworking workaholic.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Chris said, rolling his eyes but smiling. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be hyping me up, not roasting me?”

Hyunjin smirked. “We roast because we care.”

“True,” Han said, throwing an arm around Chris’s shoulders. “But seriously, hyung, we’re proud of you. And you’d better believe we’re all going to cry when you say your vows.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lee Know said, though his smirk suggested otherwise.

Chris shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked around at his bandmates. “Thanks, guys. It means a lot.”

“Alright, enough with the sappy stuff,” Felix declared, grabbing a small box from the table. “Time to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet. Who’s got the checklist for the ceremony?”

“Not me,” Han said quickly, stepping back. “Last time I had a checklist, we ended up in the wrong city.”

“That’s a story for another day,” Chris muttered, earning a round of laughter from the group.

As the banter continued, the nerves that had been bubbling inside Chris began to fade. Surrounded by his brothers, he felt ready to take the next step, straight down the aisle to the love of his life.

The bridal suite was a haven of calm amidst the bustling activity outside. Y/N sat in front of a full-length mirror, watching as the hairstylist expertly pinned her hair into an elegant updo. The makeup artist worked her magic, enhancing Y/N’s natural beauty with soft, glowing tones. The gentle hum of a love ballad played in the background, adding to the serene atmosphere.

Hannah lounged on the plush chaise nearby, scrolling through her phone. “Y/N, I swear, this venue is out of a fairy tale. The gardens, the lights, the view,Chris is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

Y/N smiled faintly, but her fingers fidgeted in her lap. “I hope so. I’m starting to feel the nerves kicking in. What if I trip? Or cry so much during the vows that I can’t even speak?”

Hannah put her phone down and leaned forward, her tone soothing. “First of all, if you trip, we’ll all pretend it’s a part of the choreography. And if you cry, it’ll only make the vows more beautiful. You’ve got this, Y/N. You and Chris are meant for this.”

Before Y/N could respond, the door opened, and Chris’s mother and Y/N’s mother walked in, their faces glowing with pride and emotion.

“Sweetheart,” Y/N’s mother said, her voice soft as she approached, “you look absolutely breathtaking.” She bent down, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “I can’t believe my little girl is getting married today.”

Chris’s mother took Y/N’s hand gently, her eyes misty. “Y/N, from the moment Chris told us about you, we could see how much he loved you. You’ve brought out a happiness in him that we hadn’t seen in years. Thank you for loving him so completely.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you both for being here, for everything. And for raising such an incredible man. He’s... everything to me.”

The mothers shared a knowing smile, their hands resting on Y/N’s shoulders as if to steady her.

Hannah broke the tender silence with a playful grin. “Alright, ladies, no more making the bride cry before the ceremony! We need her makeup intact.”

The makeup artist laughed. “Yes, please. I worked hard on this masterpiece.”

The stylist stepped back, admiring her work. “You’re ready, Y/N. Absolutely stunning.”

Y/N stood, smoothing her dress with trembling hands. She turned to the mirror and took a deep breath, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s do this.”

The ceremony began with the hosts of Love is Blind standing in front of the gathered crowd, their smiles warm and welcoming. The venue buzzed with excitement as the music faded and the hosts took their places.

Chris stood at the altar, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he tried to steady his racing heart. His groomsmen stood beside him, offering quiet support. Han leaned over and whispered, “Breathe, hyung. You don’t want to pass out before she even gets here.”

Chris shot him a mock glare but chuckled under his breath. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Welcome, everyone,” the first host began, her voice resonating with emotion, “to what we can only describe as the culmination of a journey that started with blind faith and an open heart.”

Her co-host nodded, adding, “We’ve all been witness to a remarkable story, one that began in the pods,a place where appearances didn’t matter, and voices carried the weight of emotions. Chris and Y/N were strangers when they first sat down, separated by a wall, and yet, through vulnerability and trust, they built something extraordinary.”

The crowd murmured in appreciation, many glancing at the altar where Chris stood, his eyes locked on the aisle in anticipation.

“Chris and Y/N’s connection was immediate,” the first host continued. “They spent hours in the pods, sharing their hopes, dreams, and even their fears. And while they couldn’t see each other, they were seeing something far more important,each other’s hearts.”

Her co-host smiled. “We watched as their relationship blossomed during the retreat, where they finally saw each other for the first time. And let me tell you, when Chris saw Y/N, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.”

The crowd chuckled, and even Chris smiled, momentarily breaking his nervous focus.

“They’ve spent the past weeks building on that foundation,” the first host added. “Navigating the challenges of blending two lives, getting to know each other’s families, and figuring out what it means to truly say, ‘I choose you.’”

“And today,” the co-host said, his voice brimming with excitement, “they’re here to make the ultimate choice,to stand before all of you, their friends and family, and promise to spend their lives together.”

The first host turned toward Chris, addressing the audience but clearly speaking to him as well. “This journey hasn’t been easy,it never is. Love is messy, imperfect, and requires work. But Chris and Y/N have shown us that when two people commit to seeing each other beyond the surface, love can truly conquer all.”

“And now,” her co-host said, gesturing to the aisle as the music swelled, “it’s time to witness the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Ladies and gentlemen, here comes the bride.”

The sound of the music shifted, and every head turned as Y/N appeared at the end of the aisle, arm in arm with her father. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by applause and cheers. Chris’s breath caught in his throat as he took her in,radiant, confident, and every bit the woman he had fallen in love with.

Y/N’s father leaned in as they walked. “You look beautiful, sweetheart. This is your moment. Let’s get you to your future.”

When they reached the altar, her father placed her hand in Chris’s, his voice steady but emotional. “Take care of her, Chris. She’s our world.”

“I promise,” Chris said sincerely, his voice firm with conviction.

The officiant began the ceremony, guiding the couple through the traditional moments with grace and a touch of humor. When it was time for the vows, Y/N took a deep breath and began.

“First of all, I would like to thank your parents for giving birth to such a sweet and kind-hearted son. Christopher, from the moment I heard your voice, I felt a connection I couldn’t explain. You’ve shown me patience, kindness, and love in ways I never thought possible. I promise to support your dreams, cherish our laughter, and stand by you, no matter what life throws our way. Today, I choose you, and I’ll keep choosing you every day.”

Chris’s eyes glistened as he held her hands tightly, his voice soft but steady as he began his vows.

“Y/N, you are my best friend, my partner, my everything. From the moment I met you, even without seeing your face, I knew my life would never be the same. You make me a better man, and I promise to love you fiercely, to listen, to laugh, and to always have your back. You’re my greatest adventure, and I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

The officiant smiled warmly, her voice clear and celebratory. “Y/N and Christopher, do you take each other as husband and wife, to love, honor, and cherish, for all the days of your lives?”

“I do,” they said in unison, their voices filled with love.

“You may kiss your bride,” the officiant declared.

Chris leaned in, capturing Y/N in a kiss that sealed their promises. The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, the air alive with celebration.

As the newlyweds made their way back down the aisle, hand in hand, the guests erupted into cheers and applause. Petals floated through the air, a cascade of color and joy that mirrored the happiness on Y/N and Chris’s faces. Chris glanced at Y/N, his smile radiant, and whispered, “We did it.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes sparkling. “We really did.”

The reception space was a masterpiece of elegance and charm. Tables adorned with lush floral arrangements and twinkling candles filled the room, and the air was filled with the soft hum of music and excited chatter. As Y/N and Chris entered, the DJ announced them with enthusiasm, “Please welcome, for the first time as husband and wife, Y/N and Chris!”

The crowd erupted into cheers once again as the couple walked in, waving to their loved ones. Chris leaned close to Y/N, his voice low. “You ready for the spotlight?”

“With you? Always,” Y/N replied, her cheeks glowing with happiness.

The couple took their seats at the beautifully decorated sweetheart table, and the celebration began. Plates clinked, glasses were filled, and laughter echoed throughout the room.

Chris’s bandmates,his groomsmen,were the first to take the mic for their toast. Felix, acting as spokesperson, stood up, raising his glass with a grin.

“Well,” he began, glancing at Chris, “I think I speak for all of us when I say we never thought we’d see this day. Chris, the guy who spends more time in the studio than sleeping, is now a married man. Honestly, we were all starting to think he’d marry a mixing board.”

The room burst into laughter, and Chris shook his head, grinning. “Thanks, Lix. Appreciate the support.”

Felix continued, his tone softening. “In all seriousness, we’ve watched you grow, not just as a leader and musician but as a person. Y/N, you’ve brought out a side of him that we’ve always known was there,a side that’s kind, patient, and full of love. We’re so happy you found each other. To Chris and Y/N,may your life together be as harmonious as our music... and less chaotic!”

The bandmates raised their glasses, and the room joined in, the toast met with cheers and applause.

Next, Y/N’s father took the mic. He stood tall, his voice warm as he addressed the crowd.

“When Y/N was a little girl, she used to dream big,” he began. “She’d tell me stories about castles, princes, and grand adventures. And now, looking at her and Chris, I realize she’s found her own kind of fairy tale,one rooted in love, respect, and partnership.”

He paused, his voice catching slightly. “I remember one time when Y/N was about seven. She told me she was going to marry someone who made her laugh every day. Chris, I can see by the way she looks at you that you’ve done just that. Thank you for loving her as she deserves to be loved.”

The room was silent, save for the sniffles of a few guests. Y/N wiped a tear from her cheek, smiling up at her father.

“To my daughter and her husband,” her father concluded, raising his glass. “May your journey together be filled with laughter, love, and the kind of happiness that makes life truly magical.”

The guests raised their glasses, and Y/N hugged her father tightly as the crowd erupted into applause once more.

The lights dimmed, and a soft spotlight illuminated the dance floor. Chris extended his hand to Y/N. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Bahng?”

“You may, Mr. Bahng” she replied with a giggle, taking his hand.

The music began,a slow, romantic melody that seemed to capture their entire journey in its notes. They swayed together, eyes locked, as the world around them faded away.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” Chris murmured.

“Only about twenty times,” Y/N teased, her smile wide.

“Well, it’s worth repeating,” he said, his voice tender.

The crowd watched, enraptured, as the couple shared their first dance. Toward the end, Chris twirled Y/N, eliciting cheers and applause from their guests.

After the first dance, the party kicked into full gear. The DJ played a mix of classics and modern hits, and the dance floor quickly filled with guests of all ages. Chris’s bandmates led a lively routine that had everyone laughing and clapping, while Y/N’s friends organized a dance-off that became a highlight of the night.

At one point, Chris pulled Y/N aside, away from the crowd, to share a quiet moment. “You having fun?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“The best,” she said, leaning into him. “I still can’t believe this is real.”

“Believe it,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Because this is just the beginning.”

The couple’s wedding cake was a masterpiece,five tiers of decadent flavors decorated with intricate floral designs. As they cut the cake, Chris playfully smudged a bit of frosting on Y/N’s nose, earning laughter from the crowd.

“You’re going to pay for that,” Y/N warned, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she dabbed frosting on his cheek in retaliation.

The night ended with a grand farewell. Guests lined up with sparklers, creating a glowing pathway for the newlyweds. As Y/N and Chris walked through, hand in hand, their faces lit with joy, the crowd cheered them on.

“Ready to start forever?” Chris asked as they reached the waiting car.

“More than ready,” Y/N replied, her smile soft and full of love.

As the car drove away, the guests waved, their cheers fading into the night. The celebration had been everything they dreamed of and more, marking the start of a beautiful forever.

[natsaffection]

Auge um Auge pt. 4 | N.R

Investigator!older!Natasha x Robber!younger! reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), gun, angst, oral (r receiving) fingering (r receiving), dirty talking, kinda obsessed Natasha?

Word count: 6,4k

A/n: I was so carried away, I actually wanted to stay overall cute and softness, but well….🙅🏻‍♀️

The light in the tent flickered slightly as Maria sat at her desk, her brow furrowed as she stared at the screen in front of her. The data she was reviewing just didn’t make sense. She opened a new file, checked it again, and bit her bottom lip unconsciously. She stood, grabbed the printed documents, and made her way to Natasha, who was in the middle of discussing a protocol with another investigator. Maria lingered at the edge of the conversation, waiting for Natasha to finish before clearing her throat to get her attention.

“Nat.” Maria said quietly, though her voice carried a serious undertone. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Natasha looked up, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the expression on Maria’s face. “Of course.”

Maria hesitated before stepping closer. “It’s about Y/n.” Natasha set down the documents she was holding and crossed her arms. “What about her?”Maria handed her a report. “I did some basic digging on her after you brought her into the tent. Just to make sure she was clean.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, already annoyed. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know.” Maria replied evenly. “But I thought it could be important. And guess what I found?” She gestured to the report. “She owns a warehouse. A whole warehouse, Nat. And it’s not a normal one. It’s not even officially registered, at least not under her name.” Natasha frowned, taking the paper and scanning the details. “And what exactly is that supposed to prove?”

Maria shrugged, but her eyes were sharp. “It’s suspicious. A young woman who claims she’s hardly ever home and works at a café has a place no one knows about? And she’s paying for it..what? under the table?” Natasha exhaled a frustrated breath, letting the piece of paper fall to the table. “Maria, I get that you’re trying to do your job, but this isn’t evidence. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“Nat!” Maria pressed, her voice harder now, “she told you exactly what you wanted to hear. A girl with a tough background who needs protection. I get it. But you can’t deny something doesn’t add up.” Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms tighter. “I’ve been in this line of work for years. I’ve got enough experience to tell when someone’s hiding something. And I’m telling you, she’s not a criminal.”

“I know you’re good at what you do, but sometimes feelings can cloud the best instincts.” Maria try’s and is leaning in. “This isn’t that.” Natasha said sharply, leaning forward. Her eyes sparkled with conviction. Maria scoffed quietly. “And the warehouse?”

“Maybe it’s a safe place..!” Natasha countered. “Somewhere she feels secure. There’s no proof she’s doing anything illegal. I’m not going to treat her like a suspect just because she doesn’t fit your mold.” Maria paused, her eyes searching Natasha’s face. “And if you’re wrong?”

Natasha took a deep breath, her voice softer but still firm. “If I’m wrong, I’ll deal with it. But I’ve learned to trust my instincts, and my instincts tell me she’s harmless.” Maria nodded slowly, her gaze heavy. “I hope you’re right, Natasha. I really hope I’m wrong.” Natasha’s tone turned cooler as she gave Maria a pointed look. “Why do you care so much? Is this about the case, or is it…personal?” Maria stared at her, momentarily speechless. “Seriously? You think I’m saying this because I’m jealous?”

“You said it, not m.” Natasha replied with a smug smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But you’ve been showing a lot of interest in Y/n lately.”

“Natasha.” Maria said sharply, her patience wearing thin. “This isn’t a game. If I’m sure she’s hiding something, it’s because there are signs. Not because I’m jealous.” Natasha took a step back, folding her arms more tightly. “She’s not a suspect, Maria. She has nothing to do with this case.”

“You can’t know that!” Maria shot back firmly. “You’re letting your feelings for her cloud your judgment!” Natasha shook her head, her jaw tense. “I’m not letting my feelings get in the way, Maria. But I know when I can trust someone, and I trust her.” Maria looked at her, her gaze sharp and tinged with sadness. “I hope you’re right, Nat. I really hope I’m wrong. But if I’m right-” She stopped, her voice softening. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Natasha didn’t respond immediately, staring at Maria for a long moment. Finally, she picked up the piece of paper from the table, crumpled it, and tossed it into the trash. “Do what you want, Maria. But leave me out of your games.” Maria stood still, watching Natasha for a moment before leaving the room, leaving her alone.

Hours later, Maria was still in the darkness of the tent, the faint light from her screen reflecting on her face. Around her, the tent was nearly empty, most of the investigators had already gone home. But Maria couldn’t pull herself away. The feeling that she was missing something important gnawed at her.

She went over the recorded conversations between The Professor and Lisbon once more. Lisbon’s voice had bothered her from the start..it was soft, almost too uncertain for someone playing such a key role in the operation. Maria hadn’t been able to connect it to a real person yet, but something about you kept nagging at her.

Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she went through your background data again. The unused warehouse, your seemingly aimless lifestyle..it all screamed someone trying to lay low but hiding something significant. Maria couldn’t shake the suspicion. Then she noticed a detail she’d overlooked before. A digital footprint, encrypted communication traced back to a banking network. She compared it to the voice data from Lisbon. Her eyes widened as the match came up. It was undeniable. The voice matched at 90%.

“Holy shit..” Maria murmured, her fingers trembling slightly as she copied the files. The patterns in the data and the voice couldn’t be ignored. You weren’t just an innocent civilian. You were deeply involved in the operation..you were Lisbon. Maria grabbed her phone and dialed Natasha’s number. It rang. And rang. And went to voicemail.

Meanwhile, Natasha sat at a cozy table in an elegant little restaurant. The light was warm and dim, candles flickered on every table, and soft music played in the background. You sat across from her, a shy smile on your lips as you held a glass of wine in your hands.

“Thank you for accepting the invitation.” Natasha said with a gentle smile, watching you closely. “It’s…nice. Thank you.” Natasha took a sip from her own glass, her eyes fixed on you. “I wanted to get to know you better. Away from…everything else.” You laughed softly, your voice nervous. “You mean away from my constant presence at the café?” Natasha grinned. “Nothing against the coffee, but it was getting a little repetitive.”

You glanced briefly at your glass before meeting Natasha’s gaze again. “I’m glad you asked me. It’s been a while since I’ve had a night like this.” But as you spoke, a thought crept into Natasha’s mind: Maria’s words. The conversation earlier in the day had lingered at the edges of her thoughts. The suspicion, the warehouse, the questions..they were like a shadow at the edge of this evening. “Natasha?” your voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Hmm?” Natasha blinked, forcing a smile. “Sorry, I was just distracted for a second.”

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your eyes searching hers. “Yes.” Natasha lied, her smile remaining calm, though inside, she was battling with herself. Why can’t I just let Maria’s words go?

Meanwhile, Maria was relentless. After several failed attempts to reach Natasha, she decided on a different approach. She needed proof, something Natasha couldn’t ignore. Maria combed through the data again and finally found something undeniable: an encrypted login tied to the banking system, linked to your old digital signatures from your days as a hacker. Maria held her breath as she compared the files. Once again, it was clear.

You weren’t just Lisbon. You were one of the key figures behind the entire operation.

Maria opened her messaging app and typed quickly: Nat, call me. It’s important!! Y/n is Lisbon!She attached the files to the message, her heart pounding. She knew Natasha wouldn’t take this lightly, but she needed to know.

You had just leaned back when Natasha’s phone vibrated on the table. Natasha glanced at it, saw Maria’s name flash on the screen, and pushed the phone aside.

“Do you want to get that? It sounds important..” you asked cautiously. “No.” Natasha answered calmly, though her brow furrowed slightly in concern. “You’re more important right now.” But the uneasy feeling lingered. As you reached for your wine glass, Natasha discreetly turned the phone over and read Maria’s message.

Y/n is Lisbon!

The words hit her like a blow. Her hands clenched around the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes skimmed the message again, then the attached evidence: traces in the banking system, signatures that unmistakably linked to your hacker past. The connections were too clear to ignore. Natasha’s body tensed, her heartbeat unsteady, but she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. This can’t be true. No. It can’t be.

She lifted her gaze and looked at you, smiling as you sipped your wine, blissfully unaware of the world crumbling around you. Natasha swallowed hard, sliding the phone into her jacket pocket as she tried to control her breathing. Her thoughts raced. You’ve been lying to me this whole time? Every touch, every smile, every explanation, all lies?

But she couldn’t confront you here. Not now. If you were really Lisbon, you weren’t just a liar, no, you were central to one of the largest heists Natasha had ever investigated. “Is everything okay?” you asked again, your eyes searching hers. Natasha forced a soft smile. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” You nodded, but you seemed to notice her subtle tension. “Are you sure? You seem…different.”

“It’s just the wine..” Natasha said lightly, raising her glass. She looked directly at you as she spoke, her voice softening, becoming more seductive. “You know, I was thinking we could make the evening a little…more exciting.” Your face reddened slightly, your eyes widening with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

Natasha leaned forward, her hand gently resting on yours. “Why don’t we head to the bathroom? Just the two of us. Something…private.” Your heart raced. Scenarios played out in your mind, each one making you more nervous than you cared to admit. The bathroom? Now? You felt your hands trembling slightly but forced a small smile. You nodded, rising from your seat and heading toward the bathroom, your heart pounding wildly. Your thoughts swirled. What’s she doing? Why now? You stepped into the bathroom, closed the door behind you, and looked into the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven. “Calm down!” you whispered to yourself. “It’s just Natasha.”

In the hallway, Natasha stood with trembling fingers, her phone still in her hand. Maria’s message was clear and unambiguous. Evidence that tied you to the heist, signatures and traces that pointed to no one else. Her knees felt weak, her heart drummed loudly in her chest. You are Lisbon.

She couldn’t believe it. The girl I let into my life. The girl I…cared for. Disappointment, betrayal, and above all, pain gnawed at her. But she couldn’t let herself be overwhelmed by these emotions now. She had to act. Her hand instinctively moved to the grip of her weapon, her steps slow but deliberate. Yet another thought crept into her mind: What if I’m wrong? What if she has an explanation?

You didn’t notice Natasha until the door softly clicked shut behind her. You turned your head, a small, uncertain smile on your lips, one that immediately vanished when you saw the gun in Natasha’s hand. Your eyes widened, and you froze. “N-Natasha?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha held the gun steadily in front of her, her stance firm, her eyes cold. “Hands up.” she said, her tone sharp, carrying a coldness you had never heard from her before. “What…what’s going on?” you asked, your voice shaking as you slowly raised your hands, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t read the expression in her eyes, there was anger, yes, but beneath it was something deeper. Something raw. Pain.

“I said, hands up!” Natasha’s voice thundered in the small room, and your legs felt like they might give out beneath you. You obeyed, tears already welling up in your eyes. “What…what are you doing??” Your voice cracked as you stared at the weapon in her hand. Natasha let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a choked noise. “What am I doing? I’m arresting you Y/n! Or should I say Lisbon?”

Your heart stopped. She knows. It’s over. The Professor’s words echoed in your mind: Stay calm. You’re only caught when there’s no doubt. But how could you stay calm when Natasha, the only person you might truly care about was pointing a loaded gun at you?! Natasha stepped closer, the gun still trained on you. Her eyes shimmered with suppressed tears, but her voice remained icy. “Don’t move. Don’t say a word. You’ve lied enough.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “I I don’t know what you’re talking about. Natasha, please let-“

“Stop, Y/N!” Natasha’s voice rose, sharper this time. “I have the evidence. Maria sent me everything. Your signature. Your damn warehouse. You used me this whole time, didn’t you?”

“No!” you cried, your voice breaking in panic. “That’s not true! I would never use you!”

“Shut up!” Natasha hissed, her fingers gripping the gun so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I trusted you. I thought…” Her words faltered, and she clenched her jaw, shaking her head. “It was all lies..”You were trembling all over, your thoughts racing. Is this the end? Am I really going to be arrested now? But you forced yourself to remember the Professor’s advice: Wait. Stay in character.

“Please, Natasha..!” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re making a mistake. I didn’t play you..!” But Natasha wasn’t the woman you’d come to know over the past weeks. Standing before you now was the agent. Hardened, unrelenting, and unyielding. Yet deep in Natasha’s chest, a different battle raged. I’m pointing a gun at someone I cared for. At someone I..trusted.

Natasha felt her chest tighten as she looked at you, your trembling figure, pale face, and tear-filled eyes. It was like a punch to the gut. How could I have been so wrong? But alongside the anger was something else. A pain that had nothing to do with betrayal. Why does it feel like I’m losing her, even though she’s the one who lied to me? Natasha shook her head, forcing herself to push the emotions away. She couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now.

“Turn around.” she commanded sharply, her voice hard once more. You hesitated, your body shaking so badly you could barely breathe. “Please, Natasha…”

“Turn around, or I’ll turn you around myself.” Natasha snapped. With a strangled sob, you finally obeyed, turning slowly and placing your trembling hands behind your back. Natasha pulled the handcuffs from her pocket, her movements mechanical, almost robotic. The sound of the cuffs clicking into place echoed in the small room, and you felt panic threatening to overwhelm you.

Natasha stepped back, her gun still trained on you. “We’re going to your warehouse now. And you’re going to show me what you’re hiding.” You turned your head slightly, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Natasha, please…this is a misunderstanding.”

“Shut up!” Natasha snapped, her voice breaking. “You had your chance to tell me the truth. It’s too late now.” Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your thoughts racing. I have to convince her. I have to find a way to make her believe me. But the look in Natasha’s eyes made you doubt there was any chance left. Natasha placed a hand on your shoulder, gripping you firmly as she led you toward the bathroom door. Her steps were heavy, and inside her chest, a storm of anger, grief, and disappointment raged. “You had your chance.” Natasha growled, her voice sharp. “Now the facts will speak for themselves.”

The tension in the car was unbearable, like an invisible wall separating you and Natasha. You sat in the passenger seat, your hands still cuffed behind your back, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The only sound was the low hum of the engine. Your thoughts raced, your mind a labyrinth of fear and hope. What if they really search the warehouse? What if the Professor is there right now? But as Natasha turned onto a familiar path, your eyes widened.

That warehouse…? It was the one you had hacked and claimed years ago. A place that had saved you from the cold and homelessness after you had lost everything. Relief washed over you, but tears pricked your eyes. The relief was quickly smothered by another feeling. Natasha’s broken expression. From the corner of your eye, you caught the occasional glance she cast your way. The hardness in her gaze was laced with pain, and it hurt you more than you thought possible.

Natasha abruptly parked in front of the old warehouse, the car tires crunching against the gravel. She got out, walked to the passenger side, and yanked the door open. “Out.” she commanded, her voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. You obeyed shakily, your hands aching from the cuffs behind your back. Natasha grabbed your arm and guided you to the warehouse door, which she kicked open with force.

The darkness inside was oppressive until Natasha raised her gun with one hand and flicked on the light with the other. The room flooded with warm, simple light..and Natasha froze. It wasn’t a hideout filled with plans or stolen riches. It wasn’t a space worthy of a professional thief. Instead, it was a sparsely furnished living space. An old bed in the corner, a small dresser, a makeshift table with a laptop. A tiny heater hummed quietly, and photos hung on the walls, snapshots of a time long gone.

Natasha blinked, her gun still raised, but her hands trembled slightly. “W-What…?” she asked quietly, her voice tinged with confusion. She slowly lowered the weapon, her fingers shaking as she holstered it. Her breathing was unsteady, the reality of the situation hitting her like a dagger to the chest. She was a professional, trained, calm under pressure, yet here she was, a lump in her throat, the weight of her actions nearly knocking her over.

You stood a few steps away, your hands still cuffed, tears glistening in your eyes. Yet your gaze didn’t waver from Natasha, even as your body trembled. “This is…everything?” Natasha asked finally, her voice barely a whisper. You nodded, swallowing hard, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “This is all I have.” you said quietly. “My parents…” You took a shaky breath, your chest rising and falling erratically. “They died a few years ago. A car accident. It was sudden, and I had no one. No money. No family. Nothing.”

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, and a knot formed in her chest. She had suspected you were hiding something from your past, but this…this she hadn’t expected. “I lived on the streets for months.” you continued, your voice cracking. “It was winter. I was lucky to survive at all. But…I knew I couldn’t keep living like that. So I started hacking. Not to hurt anyone, but to survive.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat dry. Hacking to survive. Not to harm. Her hands clenched into fists as your words echoed in her mind. “This warehouse…” You glanced at it briefly before lowering your gaze again. “I hacked it. Bought it illegally. It was the only place I felt safe. Where I didn’t have to be afraid. I didn’t hurt anyone, Natasha. I just…I just wanted to survive.”

Natasha felt her chest tighten as she looked at you your pale face, your pain-filled eyes, and yet you spoke with a calmness that broke her heart even more. She exhaled deeply as your words played over and over in her mind. I cuffed her. I pointed a gun at her. The thought made her heart ache.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Natasha finally asked, her voice soft but broken. You looked up, your eyes shimmering with tears. “Because I was scared. Scared you wouldn’t understand. That you’d look at me…the way you’re looking at me now.” Natasha stepped back, as though your words had physically struck her. “That’s not how I see you.” she murmured, but her words felt hollow. But that’s exactly what I’ve done. I treated her like a criminal. Like someone I could never trust.

Natasha took a deep breath, her gaze shifting to the cuffs on your wrists. “Let me take these off.” she said softly, moving toward you. But as she approached, you flinched instinctively, your eyes full of fear. “Y/n..” Natasha whispered, her voice trembling. “I won’t hurt you. I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You shook your head, tears streaming uncontrollably down your face. “You pointed a gun at me..” you whispered. “You treated me like…like a monster.”

Natasha stopped in her tracks, her arms falling to her sides as her heart cracked in two. “I know.” she said quietly, her voice full of guilt. “I know, and I’ll never forgive myself.” The gun she had held earlier now felt like a symbol of all her mistakes. She looked at you, still retreating, your fear a barrier between you. And Natasha couldn’t believe what she had done.

“I…I just wanted to protect you..” Natasha whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. “And instead, I hurt you. I didn’t believe you. I…I ruined everything.” You stared at her, your lips trembling, but you said nothing. Natasha slowly raised her hands, showing you her empty palms. “Please. Let me make it right. Let me take the cuffs off.”

It felt like an eternity, but eventually, you nodded hesitantly. Natasha stepped forward carefully, unlocking the cuffs with trembling fingers. As the cuffs fell to the floor with a click, you stepped back, rubbing your sore wrists. “I’m sorry..” Natasha repeated, her voice cracking. “I don’t know how to fix this, but…I never wanted to hurt you.” You looked at her, your tear-filled eyes softening slightly, but they still held doubt. “I never wanted to hurt you either..” you whispered. Natasha stood frozen, her arms hanging limply at her sides as you sat cautiously on the edge of the bed. You rubbed your reddened wrists in silence.

Natasha wanted to say something, anything to break the tension. But the guilt weighed her down, and every time she looked at you, she felt a sharp pain in her chest. I betrayed her. I treated the one person I wanted to protect like my enemy. “You..you can sit down if you want.” you said suddenly, your voice quiet and uncertain.

Natasha blinked, as if waking from a dream. “I…” She glanced around before slowly lowering herself onto an old chair near the bed. The two of you sat in silence for a long moment. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but the air was still heavy with everything unspoken between you. You were the first to smile faintly, though your eyes were still red. “You know.” you began, your voice soft, with a hint of humor, “this isn’t the first time you’ve treated me like a criminal.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, surprised. “What?”

“The café.” you said, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Remember? You looked at me like you wanted to arrest me on the spot.” Natasha felt the corners of her mouth lift into a small, reluctant smile. “Maybe because you seemed so suspicious..” she said softly, her tone slightly teasing. You let out a small, shaky laugh, the first in hours, but it sounded fragile, as though it could break at any moment. “Suspicious? I was just trying to help you. You looked at me like I was public enemy number one.”

Natasha shook her head, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh. “And now I’ve done exactly that. I arrested you.” Your smile faded as you noticed the pain return to her expression. “I’m sorry.” Natasha said suddenly, her voice raw. “I should have trusted you. I should never have treated you that way.” You looked at her, your gaze softening even more, though a trace of caution remained. “You were just doing your job.” you said quietly.

“That’s no excuse.” Natasha replied quickly, her hands balling into fists. “I pointed a gun at you. I cuffed you like you were…” Her voice cracked, and she lowered her gaze. “I hurt you.” You shrugged slightly and gestured to your still-red wrists with a faint smile. “Cuffs. A gun. And an emotional breakdown. Not exactly what I imagined for a date.”

Natasha stared at you, her eyes filled with regret. “I wronged you.” she said quietly. “I didn’t trust you, and I…I treated you like a monster. But you’re not.”You bit your lip, averting your gaze. A part of you felt the weight of her guilt, but you couldn’t ignore that some of what Natasha believed was true. “Maybe I am a monster.” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m not innocent. I’m not…who you thought I was.”

“You’re more than you think!” Natasha said immediately, her voice firm. “I’ve seen who you are. Not the person you pretend to be, but the person you truly are.” You wanted to laugh, but you couldn’t. Her words hit you deeply, and you didn’t know if you could accept them. Natasha stood, her movements slow and cautious, as though afraid of pushing you further away. She moved toward the bed and sat beside you, leaving a respectful distance.

“I didn’t want this to end like this..” Natasha said softly. You raised your head, looking at her, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It wasn’t just your fault.” you said quietly. “I…I lied to you too. I’m not innocent.”

“Maybe not.” Natasha said gently. “But that doesn’t change how I feel.” The words hung between you, and your chest tightened. You knew Natasha trusted you..or at least wanted to. But the guilt in your heart grew heavier as you thought about the plan.

Natasha lifted a hand cautiously, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Her movements were slow, almost hesitant, as though she feared you would pull away. “I don’t want to lose you.” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. You looked at her, and before you knew it, you leaned forward slightly. Your lips met hers, tentative and uncertain but filled with emotion. Natasha responded, her hands gently cradling your face as though afraid you might break.

But suddenly, you pulled back, your breathing heavy, guilt and fear swirling in your eyes. “What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, her voice laced with concern. You shook your head, your hands trembling. “I…I can’t do this..” you said softly. “Not without telling you the truth.” Natasha looked at you, her gaze softening. “You don’t have to tell me until you’re ready.” she said gently. “I know you want to trust me. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Her words struck you deeply, and finally, your tears spilled over. I have to keep the plan going, you thought. But what if it costs me everything? The thought weighed heavily on your heart as you realized the stakes of what lay ahead. But in that moment, all you could feel was Natasha’s warmth beside you. Her touch, her presence, and her unwavering belief in who you truly were.

"You don't know what you're saying." you whispered, your voice breaking. "I do." Natasha said softly, lifting your chin so your eyes met hers. "I'm saying I see you-for everything you are. And I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose you." You couldn't ignore the guilt and fear clawing at you, but in that moment, all you could feel was Natasha's closeness.

You gazed into her eyes, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance and kissed her again. The kiss was tentative, brimming with unspoken emotions, and Natasha responded immediately, her hands gently resting on your waist. She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours as she took a deep breath. "Are you sure?" she asked softly, her voice full of tenderness but tinged with concern.

You nodded, your eyes shimmering as you answered honestly. "I'm not sure about anything." you said. "But I want...I want to be here. With you." Natasha smiled faintly, a genuine, fragile smile, before she kissed you. This time, her movements were less hesitant, filled with a quiet intensity. Her hands slid gently to your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The tension between you grew as Natasha's fingers trailed delicately down your back, her touch sending shivers through you. You let yourself sink back onto the mattress, your hands finding their way to Natasha's waist, pulling her closer. "Is this okay?" Natasha asked again, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked down at you.

You nodded, your chest rising and falling quickly, and you reached for her hand, guiding it to your side. "Yes.." you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. Natasha began slowly, cautiously, her fingers gliding over your sides before gripping the hem of your shirt. She hesitated for a moment, searching your eyes for permission. When you raised your arms to help her, she carefully lifted the fabric over your head and set it aside.

Her gaze roamed your body, but she paused, her fingers brushing gently over your skin. "You're beautiful.." Natasha murmured, her voice shaky but sincere. You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you turned your head slightly. "Stop.." you mumbled quietly. "No." Natasha said firmly yet softly, leaning down to press delicate kisses along your neck. "I mean it."

Natasha began to lower herself, her lips trailing soft, lingering kisses across your collarbone. Each touch felt like a spark against your skin, sending shivers through your body. Her hands moved to your sides, steadying you as she continued her path downward. When her lips reached the hem of your pants, she paused, glancing up at you. “Is this okay?” she asked softly, her voice filled with care.

“Yes..” you whispered, your cheeks flushing as you nodded. Natasha took her time, peeling your pants away with deliberate slowness, her fingers grazing your skin as she revealed more of you and this made you squirm slightly, your hands instinctively moving to cover your face. Natasha chuckled softly, reaching up to gently pull your hands away. “Don’t hide from me.” she said, her voice firm but kind. “I want to see you.”

As Natasha moved lower, her lips pressing soft, lingering kisses to your hips and thighs, you felt your body tense, your back arching slightly as the sensations overwhelmed you. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this, so intimate, so consuming, and it was hard to stay still. Her hands pressed you gently but firmly back against the mattress, holding you steady as her lips continued their slow descent. She took her time, her touch unhurried but deliberate, her lips and tongue exploring with a precision that left you breathless.

You couldn’t stop the soft sounds that escaped your lips, your hands moving instinctively to her hair as you tried to ground yourself. Natasha didn’t stop, her movements growing more purposeful as she found the places that made you gasp, that made your body tense in ways you couldn’t control.

“Look at me.” she said softly, her voice steady but firm. You opened your eyes, meeting her gaze, and the intensity in her expression made your breath hitch. Natasha’s movements grew more purposeful, and she smiled faintly as she watched the pleasure overtake you again. Her tongue and lips moved with precision, exploring you with a slowness that made your toes curl. Each sound you made only seemed to spur her on, her grip on your hips tightening slightly as she held you in place.

“N-Natasha..” you gasped, your voice trembling as your back arched instinctively. Her tongue found your most sensitive spot, and you couldn't stop the loud moan that escaped your lips, your back arching instinctively. Natasha chuckled softly, her hands moving to grip your hips and press you back against the mattress. "You're not going anywhere.." she mur-mured, her voice tinged with amusement but filled with desire.

Her words only made the tension in your chest grow, and you couldn’t stop the way your fingers tangled in her hair, holding her closer as the pleasure built higher and higher. When you finally reached your peak, a loud cry escaped your lips, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha didn’t stop, her hands holding you steady as she coaxed you through it, her lips pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh as you came down from the high. “That’s it.” she murmured, her voice filled with awe. “You’re incredible.”

She kissed you softly, slowly, her lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. As she pulled back, her hand gently cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against clit. “Still with me?” Natasha whispered, her voice low and steady.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that escaped was a broken, trembling moan. Natasha stilled for a moment, her gaze flickering down to your lips before returning to your eyes. Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “I’ll take that as a yes..” she murmured, her tone carrying a hint of humor, though her voice was thick with desire.

Her words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and you whimpered, your hands clutching at the fabric of her shirt. Natasha leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as her other hand slid lower, her fingers moving with deliberate intent. When her fingers slipped inside you, you couldn’t stop the loud moan that escaped your lips, your back arching instinctively off the mattress. Natasha let out a low groan of her own, her gaze flickering downward as her fingers moved deeper.

“God.” she muttered, her voice rough, “you’re so responsive.” and she felt it, the way your walls clenched tightly around her touch. Natasha froze briefly, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Oh..” she said, her voice tinged with awe and amusement. “You like this, don’t you? The way I’m talking to you?”

You let out another broken moan in response, your body trembling beneath her. Natasha groaned softly, her jaw tightening as she pressed her forehead against yours. “Say something..” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “Say my name.” But you couldn’t. The pleasure was too much, and all that came out were more desperate, breathless moans. Natasha grinned, her free hand moving to grip your hip and hold you steady as your body squirmed beneath her.

“You’re completely gone..” she whispered, her tone laced with satisfaction. “God, you’re so perfect like this.” Her fingers moved with more purpose now, her thumb brushing against you in a way that made your head spin. Every gasp, every moan that spilled from your lips seemed to affect her just as much as it did you. Natasha’s own breath hitched, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep herself in control.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me..” she admitted, her voice rough. “Hearing you like this, feeling you…God, it’s making me crazy.” She glanced down briefly, her gaze fixating on the way her fingers moved inside you, the way your body responded to her touch. Her lips parted slightly, and she let out a soft, involuntary groan. “You’re so perfect.” she muttered, almost to herself. “Absolutely perfect.”

The intensity of her touch, her voice, the way she looked at you..it was all too much. You felt the pleasure building higher and higher, your body trembling uncontrollably beneath her. Natasha noticed immediately, her hand on your hip tightening as her movements grew more deliberate. “That’s it.” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “Let go for me. Come for me Y/n..”

“F-Fuck..! ”Her words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your head tipping back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha groaned softly as she felt your walls clench tightly around her fingers, her forehead dropping to rest against yours. “Good girl..” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she worked you through the climax. “That’s my good girl.”

Her fingers slowed but didn’t stop, her free hand smoothing over your side as she kissed your temple softly. “You’re incredible.” she murmured, her voice filled with awe. “Do you know that?” As you came down from the high, your chest heaving, Natasha didn’t pull away. Her fingers remained inside you, her movements slow and deliberate as she watched your flushed face.

When it was over, her touch soft and soothing as you lay trembling beneath her. She pulled her hand away gently, her gaze flicking back up to your face. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven, but her eyes were filled with warmth and something deeper, something that made your chest tighten. “You’re okay?” she asked softly, her thumb brushing against your cheek.

You nodded, though your breath was still shaky, and you couldn’t find the words to respond. Natasha smiled faintly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. You buried your face in her shoulder, your body still trembling as her arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “I…I didn’t know it could feel like that.” you admitted softly, your voice muffled against her skin. Natasha chuckled, her fingers brushing through your hair as she held you tightly. “You deserve to feel like this.” she said firmly. “And I’ll make sure you do. Every single time.”

Her words made your chest ache, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I…I don’t know what to say,” you whispered. “You don’t have to say anything,” Natasha replied, her thumb brushing against your cheek. “Just let me hold you..”

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[shizuturnspages]

Hi I have a request could you make a yandere gojo with a shy reader who doesn't care that he is a yandere because the reader was in toxic relationships and doesn't see yandere behavior as bad Thank you for reading me ^^

Oh. My. God. THAT IS SUCH AN IMPRESSIVE IDEA. I'm so down for this.

Gojo’s Ego Feeds Off Your Acceptance

❥ When Gojo realizes you don’t see his obsessive, possessive tendencies as a red flag, he feels invincible. Most people would run screaming if they caught a glimpse of the real Satoru, but you? You’re fine with it. That just confirms what he’s always believed—you’re meant for him.

❥ He sees your tolerance as proof of your love. In his mind, you’re basically giving him permission to be as controlling and overbearing as he wants. “You don’t mind, do you? Of course not. You’re perfect, and perfect people don’t need anyone else but me.”

Your Shyness Brings Out His Protective Side

❥ Gojo already sees himself as your protector, but your shy nature makes him feel even more responsible for your well-being. He’s constantly hovering, ready to step in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way.

❥ He loves that you rely on him—whether it’s for emotional support or dealing with situations that make you uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got this. You don’t have to lift a finger.”

He Gets a Little… Territorial

❥ Gojo doesn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to you, especially since you’ve been in toxic relationships before. He’s convinced that only he can keep you safe, so he goes out of his way to isolate you from potential threats (aka anyone who isn’t him).

❥ He’s not subtle about it, either. If someone from your past tries to reach out, they’ll regret it. “Oops. Looks like they had a little accident. Guess you’ll have to stick with me, huh?”

He Twists Your Past to His Advantage

❥ Gojo uses your history with toxic relationships to justify his behaviour. In his mind, he’s not being overbearing—he’s saving you from ever being hurt again.

❥ He’ll casually remind you of how much better he is than anyone else you’ve been with. “They didn’t deserve you. None of them did. But me? I’m different. I’ll take care of you, no matter what.”

A little scenario for having such a good idea <3

You’d barely settled into your seat at the small café when you felt it—the unmistakable prickle of someone watching you. Or rather, someone burning a hole into your soul with their gaze. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Gojo Satoru, with his signature sunglasses and that infuriatingly cocky smirk, was already making his way toward you.

“Hey, sweetheart!” His voice was as loud and unapologetic as ever, turning heads across the room. He dropped into the seat across from you without waiting for an invitation, leaning forward with an intensity that made your cheeks heat up.

“Satoru,” you mumbled, barely managing to meet his eyes. You were shy by nature, but something about Gojo made it even harder to hold your ground. He was overwhelming in every sense of the word.

“Miss me?” he teased, propping his chin on his hand.

You bit your lip, not sure how to respond. Of course, you’d missed him—it was impossible not to miss someone as magnetic as Gojo. But you also knew that admitting it would only feed his ego.

“Maybe,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The waitress approached with a nervous smile, clearly intimidated by Gojo’s presence. He ordered for both of you without consulting you, rattling off your favorite drink and a dessert you’d been craving lately. How he knew about the dessert was a mystery, but with Gojo, you’d learned not to question things.

As the waitress scurried off, Gojo turned his attention back to you. “So, how’s my favorite person doing today?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m okay.”

“Just okay?” He frowned, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His touch was warm, almost too warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Come on, you can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

You hesitated, but the truth slipped out before you could stop it. “I… I ran into someone I used to know.”

Gojo’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “Someone from your past, huh?” His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made your stomach churn.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just wanted to talk.”

“And did you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I didn’t want to.”

His expression softened, but there was still a flicker of something dark in his eyes. “Good. You don’t need people like that in your life. You’ve got me now.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the genuine warmth in his voice. Gojo could be a lot to handle, but moments like this reminded you why you hadn’t pushed him away. He made you feel… safe.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of playful banter and stolen touches. Gojo was relentless in his affection, showering you with compliments and teasing remarks that left you blushing and stammering. By the time he walked you home, you were exhausted in the best way possible.

“Thanks for today,” you said softly as you unlocked your door.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his voice. “I know.”

“Good.” He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin. “Because I meant what I said earlier. You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

There was something about the way he said it that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t a threat, exactly, but it was close. Still, you found yourself nodding, unable to argue.

“Just you,” you murmured.

Gojo smiled, satisfied. “That’s my girl.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just made a deal with the devil. But if Gojo was the devil, then maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind being damned.

[severinewrites]

Finding Independence Without Love

Dependency is common in some relationships and could happen in both platonic and romantic relationships. We see our partners/friends as a source of happiness every time we feel down. Our clinginess strengthens when we have a special person in our lives, thinking of them as a person without flaws or perfect. This can be an unhealthy way of how we act or think in our relationships with other people, we can’t expect they’ll satisfy our needs immediately, it’s like you are viewing them as the top of our pedestal, admiring them a lot.

I am saying this from my perspective as a young adult, I’ve experienced the first time feeling disappointed in my ex-crush when I hear he likes someone else. It hurts a lot to hear from the person you’ve admired for so long like someone other than you, I mean, it’s a universal experience, right? Getting disappointed or rejected, you start to get mad at yourself like hitting, pulling your hair, or even slapping yourself for not getting chosen, you feel like an idiot for being delusional thinking you’re the “one” for them. It’s a tragic feeling, I know—but I tried to forget about them, not as a friend but as a “crush”.

During my Christmas break, I struggled to cope with my feelings, so I doomscrolled YouTube for 10-12 hours for 3 days straight without reaching out to someone because I needed to isolate myself from what happened, trying to forget it ever happened. Then, I stumbled upon a show called “Moominvalley” on my for you page, I decided to watch the clips, and guess what? I fell in love with it quickly even though it’s been 3 days since I knew about this show. Moominvalley is a comforting show, and what intrigued me about the show is the character Snufkin, an easygoing and carefree enjoys thinking about things and always comes and goes as he pleases, going on adventures. Like Snufkin, I enjoy solo trips, I'm not a big fan of trips with my friends (depends on my mood but I prefer solo to groups) since I do treasure my alone time a lot, able to think about stuff or explore everywhere without any people around trying to drain my energy emotionally and physically. With my solo trips, I'm able to reflect on many stuff without any distractions. Just because I enjoy being alone doesn't mean I don't feel lonely… I have friends who care about me a lot—including my ex-crush but despite them being overall supportive and approachable, I can't help but try to push them away from me—isolating myself, especially what happened between my ex-crush and me, I can't face them anymore something that leads me to isolate myself from them and my friends, not wanting help or comfort from them anymore. I shut myself from them, I don't want to make things complicated. Snufkin really relates toMoninn on a deeper level, making him my kin since he does push away friends, has abandonment issues, fears getting attached, is sad on the inside, and struggles to talk/chat with someone.

I’ve learned the hard way that even the people you deeply love and admire, you need to accept that you can’t control how they feel or act, because well… they are humans, right? They deserve to feel or act what they want, even having feelings for somebody they like, even if it’s not you. It’s sad because that person made you feel alive or wanted, through the physical touch, words of affirmation, and more—makes me so special to them. Maybe that’s the reason why I fell in love with them in the first place. This also relates to the relationship between Moominttoll and Snufkin, Moominroll being clingy and a bit obsessed to Snufkin makes him admire him because of his adventures but unlike Snufkin, he tries to avoid any attachment to Moomintroll, resulting him to leave everytime to get some alone time or to isolate himself in his adventures. Moomintroll is also one of the characters I've kinned too, him being so clingy towards Snufkin reminds how I acted towards my ex-crush but not as obsessive, just right. Moomintroll has longings for Snufkin, always wanting to be in his side everytime, like how I've wanted to be in my ex-crush's side whenever I have a chance too—but sadly they found someone they always want to be close with… I'm glad for them but I tend to feel lonely without them around, yearning for some message or conversation from them—nothing is the same anymore as before… but that's life, there will be changes, whether you like it or not.

Therefore, I still need time for myself and watch more Moominvalley to find my purpose in life outside heartbreaks. Even I would love to talk/chat with them, it’s time to use this vacation to take a break from them for a while, giving myself time to grow as an independent person—not needing their comfort or help and focusing on my passion for writing, like what I am doing right now. Sometimes, we need to depend on ourselves, without needing anyone to fix us. That's what I did to cope.

To end this, I would like to add a quote from Moominvalley from the character Snufkin, he once said:

“You can't ever be really free if you admire somebody too much.” - Snufkin (Moominvalley 2019)

We can't really be free if we admire that special person too much, draining your energy mentally and emotionally. I wish I've heard this show during my childhood then I wouldn't have to deal with heartbreaks all of the sudden. But I guess things happen for a reason. Moominvalley is truly a masterpiece, especially the creator itself Tove Jansson, the one responsible for making this beautifully crafted show for us to love and enjoy, making us learn meaningful lessons.

We humans seek longing, wanting be loved by that person we admired but I know we're better than that—I’m better than that anyways! We know that those people we love are humans too, so why waste our time waiting for approval from them? We could try to look after ourselves and be a independent with or without them—needing no love from them at all! Love can wait but not with hopes and dreams, our passions in life are much more important than some hopeless romance. We don't need that person we deeply admire to take over our lives, we should move forward and never look back! It's such a shame not to take a chance to do what you're passionate about when we only live once.

It's possible for us to grow to independent individuals thriving to make the world a better place! With my strong love for writing, I could write freely, writing down my musings, feelings, and emotions. I’m grateful to be alive where the world is filled with endless possibilities, where you can be free from everything! Be who you want to be, explore everything until you find your purpose—that’s the beauty of independence without love!

“It is simply this: do not tire, never lose interest, never grow indifferent—lose your invaluable curiosity and you let yourself die. It's as simple as that.” - Tove Jansson (Fair Play 1989)

[arcadia345]

Astro observations🤍🦢

Not a real astrologer just my observations:)TW🔞

I noticed in 10th house Synastry house person could feel like planet person is shallow if you know them irl or it could be difficult to build a deeper connection w them but if it’s a celeb/far distance person you feel like you know them better than most people 💀 esp if it’s in a water sign notice me jungkook 💜

I’ve noticed people with outer planets in the 1st have shocking resemblance to their ancestors

Capricorn placements don’t get enough recognition for how many hidden gifts/ talented they are. I feel like people forget that they’re half goat/fish so their creativity can go overlooked(wow what a surprise). Wherever Capricorn/ Saturn is in you chart is where your hidden talents are, where you tend to feel shunned from/your biggest obstacles in life, where people try to belittle you because they see your potential. But once you realize your potential and work on it consistently you can become oh so powerful.

6th:their work ethic, natural healers, could be accused of being lazy, having haters at work, animals love them but they could’ve have bad experiences with them in the past, having good health/nice body if you’re persistent

3rd: being discouraged by your peers/teachers/family because of your communication skills, could do really well in later school years and also could be popular, feeling like your pov is never taken into thought, they could have been the child that was the most problematic but also the one that holds the family together like glue

12th: they sometimes could feel like a shadow also could see shadows💀 strong intuition without knowing it, people could spread lies behind ur back, another healer placement, you know other peoples fantasies & secrets bc of insights you get via dreams, your “gifts” could come later in life, having lots of hidden talents/info that you learn about yourself as you get older, definition of old souls

Also I’ve noticed Capricorn placements (esp fems) have strong intuition especially in tough situations they’re definitely the ones you go to for advice

My Capricorn stellium coworker said she basically worked all way till her due date with all her kids😳 but her last one almost came WHILE on the clock😭😭 like you need to rest mamas

Prominent Aries with a sprinkle of Neptune energy LOVE BLUSH and if you don’t please try it out you’d look so good😩and don’t be scared to experiment when it comes to makeup RAMS are meant to be BOLD example

Having a crush on someone you have 11th house synastry especially mars or sun is so hard😭😭😭 it’s so hard to get them to see you as other than a friend 😕 not impossible tho😈

Libra moon masc tend to have heavy karma when it comes to women esp family members, could go either way but most of the time they’re the ones getting hurt by the fem

Have y’all noticed some older Scorpio suns still dress like they’re in 2013? Which isn’t surprising since that was around the time millennials (Scorpio Pluto gen) were thriving

Saturn in 4th, I’ve noticed that they’ve had to deal with restrictions at a young age either it be emotional or material especially when it comes to food I now people with this placement that were fatshamed by their family members

Sun in 12/6 could have absent fathers in different ways

6th:he could be incarcerated, a workaholic, could’ve been ill, could be in the army

12th: also could be incarcerated, you probably don’t know who your father is or never met him, he could have passed, could be obsessed with finding him/absolutely no interest at all, could have a dr*ug addiction

Sorry not sorry but Saturn in the 5th natals are so boring😴true definition of squares have some fun once and awhile they’re all work no play

A pair I love to see is Virgo with Aquarius/Capricorn it’s either VERY toxic or they have cutest relationship ever😭

Venus In 10th synastry, they could see each other as the best looking partner that they’ve ever had

I noticed I tend to have 3rd/4th house synastry with my pets, but the ones I have to give away have planets in my outer house

That’s all for now don’t forget to like and follow🩶

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Langue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?

To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years, to be honest, she had me broader line obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching place and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history with someone—sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust, that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked, fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten, and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket, and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor. I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf, but then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I declare, bending down—Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking—You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Were did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave—he’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get his back; This man—the love of my life. There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bone it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. “Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour is interrupted when my mom speaks. “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone—How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence—and it wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through our families, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Dissasoiating—the word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost. All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandler, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day; what a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bounding to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earth quack, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply—they appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I can check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remakes, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filter out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch. I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own—and maybe I speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise. We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulder to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lip and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor. I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob, “Oh Bee—” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mournful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb of my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[vanilladollette]

Hey girl wassup, can you write about sweet female reader, with (all the characters if that's okay for u, if no, then jae Joon)

Female reader who is friends with Dong Eun and she had no idea that burns were from the bullies, and didn't know that jae Joon was apart of the incident, and when Dong exposes jae Joon, female reader goes from sweet to cold towards Jae Joon and breaks up with him, and lends him to be yandere.

(ALSO GIRL I WANNA SAY THAT I LOVE YOUR THE GLORY X READER ON, WATTPAD ♡ )

The Sweetest Poison

Pairing: Yandere Jeon Jae-Joon x Fem! Sweet Reader

Word count: 1.75k

Summary:After learning you left him upon discovering his past as your best friend's bully, Jae-Joon's heartbreak twists into a dangerous obsession.

Warnings: Bullying, Burns, toxic, violent behavior, cursing

A/n: I'm glad that you like Beneath The Surface!!! This took me awhile to write but thank you for being patient with me. Anyways, I hope you like this!

You couldn’t believe it, even as you replayed her words in your head. The signs were all there, and yet somehow, you’d missed them. How could you have missed something like that?

When Moon Dong-eun, your friend from high school, had contacted you, you were thrilled. It had been years since you’d last seen her. Her message had been brief, almost cryptic, saying she needed to talk about something important in person. Curious and eager, you’d agreed to meet her at a quiet café downtown.

As you approached the agreed-upon spot, you saw her sitting alone at a corner table. Dong-eun looked different but not unrecognizable. Her posture was composed, her expression serene yet distant, like someone who had seen too much and learned to mask it well. You felt a pang of nostalgia as memories of the once cheerful, soft-spoken girl from high school resurfaced.

“Dong-eun!” you greeted warmly, sliding into the seat across from her. “It’s been so long. How are you?”

Her smile was faint but sincere. “Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you.” Her voice had a weight to it, as though each word carried unspoken emotions.

The two of you exchanged pleasantries. You told her how you’d thought about her over the years, wondering where she’d gone and what had happened after she left school. You mentioned how devastated you were when you found her house empty, with no way to contact her.

“I’ve been well,” she said, her tone polite but guarded. “After leaving school, I went to college to study education. I’m a teacher now.”

“Wow, that’s wonderful!” you exclaimed, genuinely impressed. “I wouldn’t have guessed you wanted to be a teacher back then.”

“What about you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “How have you been?”

You gave a small laugh. “Oh, nothing as exciting as becoming a teacher, that’s for sure. Just working and… you know, living life.”

As the conversation lingered, you couldn’t help but feel there was something unsaid, something heavier lurking beneath her calm demeanor. Finally, you decided to ask.

“Anyway,” you began, leaning forward slightly, “what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Dong-eun hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of her cup. Her gaze flickered downward for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was soft but deliberate.

“You know,” she said, almost wistfully, “I always wondered how someone as kind as you could be so close to him.”

Her words caught you off guard. Him? You blinked, your head tilting in confusion. “Who are you talking about?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her eyes met yours, searching your face as though gauging your reaction. Finally, she asked, “Do you know why I dropped out of high school?”

You nodded slowly. “You were being bullied. I assumed that was the reason… that you didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice steady. “But I never told you who my bullies were.”

A chill ran down your spine. Something in her tone made your stomach knot. You stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.

She took a deep breath, her fingers now toying with the hem of her sleeve. “One of them was Jae-joon,” she said finally, her words landing like a thunderclap. “He was one of them.”

Your breath caught. Jae-joon? You stared at her, your mind racing. Jae-joon, the same person you’d been close to all these years? The same person you’d trusted, laughed with, maybe even defended? The shock on your face must have been evident, because Dong-eun gave a sad, knowing smile.

“I’m guessing he never told you,” she said, her voice tinged with resignation. “I didn’t think he would. Why would he admit something like that to you?”

You were at a loss for words. Memories of Jae-joon flooded your mind—his easy smile, his charm, the way he always seemed so confident. You couldn’t reconcile the image of him with what Dong-eun was telling you. But then you thought about her, about how she’d suddenly vanished from your life, leaving no trace. And you realized… maybe you’d never really known Jae-joon as well as you thought.

“I’m sorry you had to find out from me,” Dong-eun said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft but firm, her gaze unwavering.

You shook your head quickly, trying to process everything. “No… I—I needed to know.” Your voice trembled, and you suddenly felt a lump in your throat. “I’m sorry, but I… I have to go.”

Without waiting for her response, you grabbed your bag and stood. Your legs felt unsteady as you walked out of the café, the weight of her revelation pressing down on you like a heavy fog. As you stepped into the cold air, one question echoed in your mind: How had you missed it?

“Y/n, I’m home!” Jae-Joon called out from the entrance of your shared home, his voice echoing through the quiet space. The late hour clung to him like a shadow, exhaustion evident in the way he shrugged off his coat and draped it over the back of a chair.

“Y/n?” he called again, his tone softening slightly when no response came.

He moved through the house, his footsteps muffled on the carpet as he checked the usual places you might be. The kitchen was empty, the living room undisturbed. A flicker of unease settled in his chest as he made his way toward the bedroom.

Pushing the door open slowly, Jae-Joon’s eyes landed on your still figure lying on the bed, your back facing him. Relief warred with apprehension as he stepped closer, his voice low and uncertain.

“Y/n?”

When you didn’t stir, he perched cautiously on the edge of the bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. His hand found your hip, a gesture meant to bridge the growing distance he felt between you. For a moment, he said nothing, unsure how to break the silence that had thickened between you lately.

“How was your day?” he finally asked, his voice tentative.

“Fine,” you replied curtly, your tone as cold as the wall you stared at.

Jae-Joon’s shoulders sagged under the weight of your indifference. The silence returned, heavier than before. Sighing, he rose and left the room to prepare for bed, the unspoken words hanging in the air like ghosts.

The next morning, Jae-Joon woke to find the bed empty. He blinked at the sunlight filtering through the curtains, assuming you were already up. The faint clink of dishes guided him to the kitchen, where he found you seated at the table with a bowl of untouched cereal in front of you. Your gaze was fixed on some indiscernible point ahead, your posture rigid.

“Morning,” he greeted, though the lightness in his tone faltered when you didn’t respond. Shrugging it off, he began rummaging through the cabinets for something to eat.

“When were you going to tell me that you gave Dong-eun those burns?”

Your voice cut through the stillness. Jae-Joon froze, his hand hovering over the coffee pot. Slowly, he turned to face you, his expression a mixture of confusion and unease.

“What?” he managed, his voice strained.

“Or were you just hoping I’d never find out?” Your voice trembled, though your eyes remained fixed ahead.

Jae-Joon’s throat tightened. “Who told you? Did Dong-eun tell you?” He approached the table, his movements deliberate.

“Answer my question,” you snapped, finally meeting his gaze. Your red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks were like a punch to his gut. “Were you ever planning to tell me, Jae-Joon? Or did you think you could hide the fact that you were my best friend’s bully?”

His jaw clenched as anger flared in his eyes, a defense mechanism against the guilt clawing at him. “What did she tell you?” he demanded, his voice rising.

“Why are you so worried about what she said? Is it because it’s true?” you shot back, standing up abruptly.

The two of you locked eyes, the tension crackling between you like a live wire. You didn’t wait for his response. Turning on your heel, you strode toward the bedroom.

Jae-Joon followed close behind, his stomach twisting as he watched you yank a suitcase from the closet and toss it onto the bed. His heart sank further with every article of clothing you packed.

“Wait, what are you doing?” His voice cracked, the panic unmistakable.

“I’m done, Jae-Joon,” you said, your voice rising. “We’re over.” You zipped the suitcase with trembling hands, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n, wait!” He grabbed your wrist as you made for the door, his grip firm but not forceful. “Let’s talk about this. Please.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You wrenched your arm free, your voice breaking.

Jae-Joon stood frozen as you walked out the door, the sound of your suitcase wheels scraping against the floor a bitter reminder of your departure. The silence that followed was deafening.

“FUCK!” The scream tore from his throat as he hurled a lamp across the room, the crash doing little to ease the storm raging inside him.

Grabbing his phone, he scrolled furiously through his messages until he found Dong-eun’s number. His hands shook as he hit the call button, the phone pressed tightly to his ear.

After several rings, her voice came through, calm and composed. “Hello?”

“WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?” he roared, his voice laced with fury.

“Simply the truth,” Dong-eun replied coldly.

“Because of you, Y/n left me!” His voice cracked, the admission spilling out like a wound reopening.

“Did you really think she wouldn’t find out, Jae-Joon?” Dong-eun’s voice was unyielding. “She deserved to know.”

He ended the call abruptly, hurling his phone across the room. Chest heaving, he sank onto the bed, his head in his hands.

Jae-Joon sat on the edge of the bed, his breathing ragged as the room fell silent. His hands shook. You were his—his light, his purpose, his everything.

You leaving wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. He’d make you see that. He’d make you come back to him, no matter what it took.

A smile—a chilling, empty smile—spread across his face. You weren’t responding now, but that was fine. He didn’t need words. He knew where you were. He’d find you.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. “You’ll understand soon, Y/n. We’re meant to be.”

His heart pounded with renewed determination as he got up, his mind racing with plans. You belonged to him, and nothing would change that.

Nothing.

Taglist: @petersasteria

[artofmaquenda]

These pins 'Get Out' carry so many meanings for me. Today, as I reflect on my time in art school, they feel especially resonant. The pins depict canines desperately trying to escape a box, a box that might be self-made, imposed by society, or both. After all, one rarely exists without the other.

When I started art school, I was a different person than I am today. Looking back, I wonder how things might have been different if I had the skills and self-awareness I’ve gained since then. As a highly neurodivergent person, I struggled with invisible walls, barriers within myself that made it hard to express or even fully understand who I was. These struggles weren’t new. Even before art school, in high school and other environments, I often felt isolated. I couldn’t communicate or express myself in a way people seemed to understand.

That persistent loneliness led me into unhealthy situations, ones I’m still untangling and accepting. When I was very young, I became involved with an older, neurodiverse adult who was also deeply damaged and alone. I struggled to connect with people my own age because of how isolated I felt as a neurodivergent person, and his love seemed like something I couldn’t find elsewhere. In many ways, it was real. But it wasn’t good. It wasn’t right. It’s a complicated mess that no one seems to understand beyond the surface-level reactions: “That’s gross” or “That’s wrong.” And while those things are true, the situation was far more layered. It was born from two deeply lonely people trying to fill voids they didn’t know how to face.

While this feels like a detour from the topic of art school, it’s all part of the same thread: a lifetime of feeling misunderstood and unseen, and the complicated ways I tried to navigate that pain.

Art school, in many ways, amplified these struggles. It’s not that I want to blame art school entirely. It was mutual interaction, between me and the system. But I came in with certain hopes. I longed for a place that felt like home, where I would meet like-minded people and be embraced for who I was. Instead, I found an environment where intellect, pretentiousness, and an obsession with dissecting art seemed more important than passion, joy, or the raw drive to create.

Art, to me, has always been a refuge, a space where I could be authentic without needing to justify myself. In art school, I was met with something entirely different. The teachers seemed locked into their own boxes, continuing the rigid structures of the schools and galleries they’d been shaped by. It felt like they couldn’t see or value anything outside of that mold.

I struggled because I couldn’t explain why I made the art I did, I just did. And yet, there was relentless pressure to intellectualize everything. They wanted a rationale for every line, every theme, every choice. For someone like me, a visual thinker who often can’t find the words for my emotions, that demand felt suffocating. I’ve always struggled with the idea of intelligence as it’s commonly understood, measured by how well you can articulate your thoughts in a neat, linear way. I often saw myself as “stupid” because of my silence, or my chaotic, ADD-fueled way of jumping from one thought to another, made it hard for people to follow me. They didn’t understand how deeply I felt and thought in images, patterns, and emotions, and I didn’t have the tools to explain it. It wasn’t until much later that I learned there are different ways of thinking, and that my way of processing the world is just as valid, but they’re so often misunderstood or dismissed in society. That dismissal reinforced the feeling of inadequacy I carried for so long. It’s something I still struggle with today, untangling that internalized belief and reminding myself that intelligence isn’t one-size-fits-all.

Even worse, there was no empathy. While I don’t expect teachers to understand every student’s trauma, or even what it means to be neurodivergent (I certainly had no idea!), the complete lack of care was devastating. Many of us came in carrying pain or challenges that we didn’t have the tools to handle yet, but instead of support, I was met with ridicule and it made me even more afraid to trust people. Art school was supposed to nurture creativity, but instead, I felt like they were trying to shape me into their idea of what “art” should be.

That environment, with its rigid structures and narrow perspectives, left me feeling incredibly disabled and deeply “not enough.” And yet, I realize now that I was trapped in more than one box. There was the box of art school itself, but also the mental box I’d put myself in masking, trying to fit in, and forcing myself to meet expectations that didn’t align with who I was.

Tearing down those walls is still something I’m working on, and it’s not easy. Years of feeling misunderstood and isolated don’t go away overnight. Therapy and self-reflection and psychedelics have helped, but there are moments when I still feel those old barriers.

'Get Out' is not just about leaving art school, it’s about escaping the constraints of every box, internal and external. It’s about reclaiming my authenticity, embracing who I am, and finding spaces where I can truly belong.

Despite all the isolation and struggles, I find it kind of beautiful that I even hoped and longed for things like acceptance, connection, and nurturing. It’s a reminder that you have to believe in those possibilities, even if they look different from what you’d imagined. I realized I have to deeply love and accept myself most of all, to be able to find what I'm looking for.

Finding them might not come in the ways you expect, but believing in their existence, even in new and unexpected forms, is a kind of resilience in itself.

[greynatomy]

luck of the irish

katie mccabe x reader

i’m having sm trouble writing rn that i feel like i’m just rambling when writing at this point. hope it makes sense for y’all

part 2 part 3

———

“Come on. Please. For me?” You ask the two people on a video call with you

Your best friends, Selena and Taylor, and you are having a virtual hangout, seeing as you all live in different places.

“What’s in it for us?” Selena asks, taking a sip of her wine.

“Absolutely nothing, but you get to go to England.”

“And what are we gonna do? Sit and watch you ogle your girlfriend for like two hours.”

“Exactly.”

“Stop teasing me. You can’t hardly blame me though, my girlfriend is hot. And y’all are just bitter that you’re single.”

“Hey! I’m not anymore.”

“Shocker!” You say sarcastically. “You’ve been going to your boyfriend’s games so much and brought us with you, now it’s my turn.”

“Sel, you need to get yourself an athlete.”

“I know.” She whines, extending the ‘o’. “You guys need to set me up with someone.

“You might catch the eyes of some footballers if you come here.”

“We’re gonna be in so many news headlines.”

“Just gotta make sure we don’t look stupid in them.”

———

The Arsenal Women’s team are all on the pitch, warming up for their match. All of a sudden, the crowd throughout the stadium starts cheering, confusing all the players and staff on the pitch.

Looking all around, the crowd is watching the big screen. There you are, with your two best friends, all completely oblivious to what’s happening. The three of you were too preoccupied doing the marshmallow game to notice all the eyes on you. Well, to be fair, you all grew up with eyes always on you that you all learned to block it out.

“Stop fucking it up Taylor. You’re like the whole music industry, where’s the rhythm?”

“Fuck you! I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my Mom.”

“Okay! Let’s just try it again okay?”

“I’ll start. One marshmallow.”

“Check it out.”

“Woo.”

Down on the field, Katie watches the big screen, not being able to stop the huge grin of amusement on her face.

“Dude! There’s no way that’s actually Y/N Y/LN, Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift.”

“I mean, if you open your eyes you would see that it actually is.” Caitlin shoves Katie away because of her sarcastic response.

———

Nothing really happens for the first half, but as soon as the second half starts, Arsenal in playing like they’ve got some fresh pairs of legs on them.

“Now I understand why people watch sports.” Taylor says loudly.

“Dates an athlete and is now obsessed with sports.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“But seriously. I’ve never watched a sport on my life until I met Katie. And it’s a plus she looks hot doing it.”

———

We’ve got McCabe, Katie McCabe I just don’t think you understand she plays out on the wing, she hits it with a zing we’ve got Katie McCabe

You started chanting with all the fans, encouraging your friends to join in.

“C’mon guys! Just like I taught you!”

———

Arsenal eventually won from a banger from McCabe, who was now getting interviewed.

“Katie, good game today. You scored the game winning shot, how’d that feel?”

“Oh, em, I was just doing what I usually do. But I’ve actually got my girlfriend here, so I had to put on a bit of a show for her.”

“Oh! Wow! Well, thank you for your time Katie.” The reporter says a bit shocked at the news.

Katie walks into the locker room, everyone is just sat at their cubby, cooking down from the match, when a knock is heard from the door.

“You girls decent?” Jonas’ voice comes through the door.

“Yeah!”

“Alright, well, we’ve got some guests that would love to meet you all.”

You, Taylor and Selena walk through the door being met by the whole team. The team fan girls for a bit, the team’s social media videographer catching it all on camera.

After greeting everyone, you walk over to where Katie is still sat in her cubby and place yourself on her lap, her arms immediately wrapping around your waist.

Her teammates are too preoccupied with Selena and Taylor to notice the two of you, but both your friends know you like to wander off, instantly noticing you weren’t next to them anymore.

Looking around, she sees you with your girlfriend whispering in her ear that has her biting her lip.

“Oh my god! Stop flirting in front of other people please!” Taylor speaks out, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.

“You’re just mad cause your man who’s not your man is off playing fake football and not with you.”

“Oh, she got you there.” Selena laughs at Taylor’s offended face, giving you a high five.

“We’re no longer friends.” Taylor pouts, crossing her arms across her chest.

“You’ll get over it cause you love me.” You wrap her in a hug, Selena joining in. “Okay, enough of that. Can we all take a group picture?” You ask the Gunners. “I’ve gotta cook dinner.”

After the photo, the three of you bid farewell to the team, you giving Katie a quick kiss and a ‘see you later.’

“Actually, can I go with you? I’ll just shower at home.” Katie asks, packing her things.

“C’mon. Bye guys!” You wave at everyone.

“See you soon!” Katie leaves after you.

The team was silent for a bit after the four of you left, not knowing how to process that their Irish teammate has a girlfriend and who her girlfriend is.

“That was unexpected.”

“Indeed.”

“How’d Katie get a girl like her?” Beth asks, not quite understanding.

“It’s probably the luck the Irish have.”

“And Y/N is her pot of gold.”

“Damn.”

[storm-angel989]

🎀IM SORRY FOR BLOWING UP YOUR INBOX! But Val/Vox(idrc which one) x Anorexic Daughter Reader?🎀

PLEASE READ BEFOREHAND

Hi Friend,

You’re not blowing up my inbox- I keep every request in a google doc and when inspo hits I work on it! If I ever decide I won’t do a request I won’t just delete it- I’ll post and say it directly <3 

Preface for this work:

 I’m considered a plus sized equestrian/plus sized human. Eating disorders come in all shapes, sizes and issues. I believe it’s Blythe Barid who said “If you develop an eating disorder when you are already thin to begin with you go to the hospital. If you develop an eating disorder when you are not thin to begin with, you are a success story.”

Stories like these are based on my own experiences and issues- and on this topic, I’ve had quite a few. Please remember that all bodies are worthy of love and respect, care and concern. It's a tough concept to wrap our heads around, and admittedly I still struggle with it. 

A little background info: 

ED’s are a huge part of my writing that I haven’t published. Ana and Mia are characters I have created (or maybe my own food issues created them). Either way, they’re  separate entities for separate stories- demons that I imagine have their own place in hell as well as in my writings (all of which have been in existence far longer than Hazbin). That being said, naming your ED is something I did and I have done. Even for the purpose of writing this story, the entire thing felt wrong without Ana running the behind the scenes. 

With this one I tried to pain the pain, the anger and frustration behind that never feeling good enough feeling. I would be open to doing part two if folks would be interested. Please also know I’ve written on this topic in several other forms if you explore my masterlist (or I can directly send you the links if you PM me). 

<3 Mandy 

I stepped on the bathroom scale and looked at the number that flashed below. The words of my coach echoed in my mind- I needed to lose the summer weight, or else I would be benched for the rest of the season. She had helpfully provided me with a journal to keep track of my weight, what I ate in a day, activities I did and how many calories I burned in accordance with my VoxTech watch. 

A month ago, I had met her goal, thus ending the weekly weigh-ins. According to her, I had lost enough weight to maintain my place on the team. It was on me now to make sure that I maintained that weight, or lost more. In her exact words, you could never be too skinny. 

“Bebita? Breakfast,” my fathers voice called from the hallway. “Come on, before it gets cold.”

The number told me I hadn’t gained weight, but I hadn’t lost weight either. I picked my backpack up and slung it over my shoulder. 

“Sorry, Dad! I’m late! I’ll eat at school, I promise,” I answered back as I rushed out the door. 

Surely skipping breakfast wouldn’t hurt. 

Skipping breakfast turned into skipping lunch. Skipping lunch turned into avoiding dinner. Sugar free jello and skinny pop became my go to snacks as the numbers in my book slowly but surely began to get smaller. Somewhere, a little voice inside my head began to cheer my successes on the scale. Over time, I learned that she had a name. 

Ana. My secret diet partner. My invisible cheerleader. The willpower I needed to keep going on the hardest days. And most importantly, someone who paid attention to me, 

With each passing day, Ana grew louder. She encouraged me to keep my diet a secret from my family. After all, they wouldn’t understand. Pleasing her, it became almost like an addiction- a game I played with myself to see just how little I could become. Food became nothing more than numbers, an obsession that consumed every minute, every second of my thoughts and desires. 

In my household, it wasn’t hard to keep it to myself. Hell, one could argue that I wasn’t technically even keeping it a secret. My father had a very important job, after all. And my Auntie Velvette and Uncle Vox also wouldn’t have had the opportunity to make the connection. A quick, I ate earlier, sorry! And I got off scott free. Ana cheered with each no thank you I uttered. My head between my knees after practice had become a ritualistic practice. Waiting for the black spots to fade, taking deep breaths to try to regain the energy to stand up and walk out to the awaiting limo. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting at home for me anyway. 

On the daily, I kept a careful eye on my voxtech watch. The first time my blood sugar dropped, I got a call from Vox. Paniced waves rushed through me. A suggestion from Ana to bribe to a friendly tech demon. A brief trade later, I had constant vitals being sent from my watch, my real ones hidden behind a password. With this newfound freedom, outside of homework and practice, my time normally devoted to hobbies or hanging out with friends became time to sleep. After all, I was working on the perfect body. I needed my rest. 

For almost six months, Ana and I were best friends. 

Saturday morning. Game day. One of the busiest days for my father. After all, lust and depravity raked through the weekends like wildfire. Or at least, that was what he claimed. I stood in front of the mirror trying desperately to tighten the drawstring 

“Hey bebita?” I heard my fathers voice call from the hallway. “Baby, are you up?”

“Yeah, Dad. I have a game today,” I snapped as I tied another knot in the string. 

Why the fuck wouldn’t these stupid shorts stay up? I fumed to myself. Every part of my body ached, and even yanking on my shorts sent black spots and exhaustion rushing through my body. I leaned my head against the mirror and tried to take a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this. 

The next thing I heard was my fathers voice, felt his hand shaking my shoulder. It took every ounce of energy to open my eyes. 

“Bebita? Reader, can you hear me?” Valentino asked frantically. “Princessa, wake up, now!”

“I’m fine,” I muttered as loudly as I could. Somehow, I managed to push myself upright. 

“You most certainly are not fine,” he replied sharply. “I’m taking you downstairs to the doctor, right now.”

Doctor. That meant I would miss the game. No, I had an obligation to my teammates. Somewhere in my head, Ana screamed.

Get up, fatass!

You really want to fuck this up for everyone?

You better not let him take you to the doctor, you do that and you’ll never find perfection. 

“I’m fine,” I growled, louder this time. I pulled myself to my feet and black spots dotted my vision. I felt my fathers arms around me and in seconds, I was off the floor and in his arms.

“Put me down, I can walk,” I tried to yell. Inside my head, Ana screamed louder, demands and insults about my current predicament. I pressed my hands to my head and curled my fingers in my hair, “Dad let me down NOW!” 

He ignored me as he carried me down the hallway. 

“Vox? Velvette? Both of you, with me. Now. We have a problem.” He said loudly. 

“Woah, what’s going….” Vox’s voice began. 

I shoved my hand against my father as he walked through the living room.  To my relief, he set me down on the couch. 

“What?” I snarled as three sets of eyes stared at me. “What the fuck are you looking at?” 

Vox checked his phone and then walked over to me. With one finger, he lifted off my Voxtech watch. 

“Hey! Give that back!” I demanded. “I’m going to be late to my game!”

All three of them ignored me. Wordlessly, Velvette walked away and returned moments later, bathroom scale in hand. She set it infront of the couch and gave me a hard look. 

“Step on.” 

“Fuck you,” I snapped as I stood up. I tried to ignore the black spots that danced just out of sight. “My weight is none of your fucking business.”

“Reader!” Valentino said in dismay. “That’s no way to talk to your Aunt.”

“I’m leaving, I’m already late. Thanks, Dad,” I continued sarcastically as I kicked the scale aside. 

Inside, Ana cheered. I bent down to pick up my backpack and the world around me spun. Three steps,  and Vox’s hand gripped my upper arm. The last thing I heard was Ana’s voice screaming indistinguishable words. 

When I came to again, I found myself in a room of gray and blue. Wires stuck out from my chest, and I tried to cough and spit the feeling of something painful in the back of my throat. I tried to reach up, to shove my fingers down my throat, and my skin met padded white cuffs. 

What the fuck?

You’re going to have to work hard to get yourself out of this one, Ana taunted. Great job getting caught, fatass. 

“Hey, baby, it’s alright, Papi is here,” I heard my father’s voice say somewhere far away. 

“Mr. Valentino, I promise we’ll be in touch when she’s more stable,” a new voice said. “For now, it might be best to give her some space to…”

Indistinguishable arguments. My fathers refusal and reminder of who exactly was in charge here. My Uncle Vox and Aunt Velvette chiming in, a mix of talking him down and agreement. 

Panic shot through me as the haze slowly began to wear away. Realization. Through the fog, only one word came to mind. 

Fuck.

[vivmaek]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PART SEVEN (roast edition)

Libra Suns are soo oblivious sometimes. I can never tell if they’re doing it to get something or if they’re actually having a dumb blond moment. 

People with Mars in the 2nd house need to learn how to share. They become territorial over their possessions. As children, they were the types of kids to show off a cool toy and then go, “but you can’t play with this one because it's special.” 

Mars in Pisces are the types to make a passive aggressive comment under their breath, and then when someone calls them out, they go, “I didn’t say anything!” 

When people who have Mercury in the 8th house become obsessed about something, they will never shut up about it. Just when you think you’ve managed to steer conversation into a new direction, they will find a way to bring up whatever topic is plaguing their mind. 

Pluto in Sagittarius generation is so self-righteous. Everyone is overly aggressive with their opinions, everyone thinks they’re right, and everyone is under the impression that we’re going to be these revolutionary radicals who will serve justice to those oppressed when most spend their time on the internet trying to cancel people. Like seriously we get so heated over nothing sometimes. I think that's because this generation really struggles with misdirected passion. I’m excited for these Pluto in Aquarius babies tho 

Aries Moons and their temper tantrums, that's all. 

People who have their Mars in Taurus will destroy things when they get angry, literally like a raging bull. They make a mess and fling things around, like what is that accomplishing?? And then afterwards they clean it up like nothing ever happened. 

The uncomfortable look on a Gemini Moon's face when someone starts to cry, they wanna leave asap and are looking for the nearest exit. 

Leos will cry, scream, and throw a fit over their hair. DO NOT MESS WITH THEIR HAIR. It's the one quality they like about themselves. A bad haircut or color treatment will have them SPIRALING. Like a serious identity crisis. They die inside when someone goes, “It's just hair, it will grow back.” 

Mercury Libras and the lies they spread! They lie about the smallest things and it's usually in an effort to people-please. 

People with their Mars in Sagittarius are psychos when they're mad. They lack the foresight to see how they’re putting themselves and others in danger. I’d say they are the most likely to carry out some form of revenge.

If you’re dealing with someone who has their Venus in the 8th house, make sure to establish some firm boundaries. They will just keep taking if you let them.

Venus 11th housers cause so much drama every time they develop feelings for one of their friends, I never seen this not cause tension within a friend group. 

12th house stelliums and the way they always maintain distance, and everytime you get too close they pull back, actually super frustrating. Also the silent treatments they pull! They’re not even doing it to punish, they're just doing it because they’re uncomfortable, but it still ends up feeling like a punishment for the other person.  

Mercury in Taurus individuals are sometimes too blunt. I honestly really love this quality hehe, but I have to admit they’ve offended me just by pointing out the obvious. 

Aries 11th housers always feel like they’re in competition with their friends. 

Moon Trine Uranus and crying at the most unexpected things. I have this friend that I’ve known since middle school, never saw her cry once. Even when we graduated and said our goodbyes for college, nothing. Then a year later, we were watching the finale for Euphoria together, and this girl started bawling at the end. I was like out of all the things to make you cry this is it?? Haha, I love her. 

The Pluto in Virgo generation hands out criticisms left and right. If my friend's parents had this placement, I always felt like they were judging me. 

Capricorns and their obsession with money, and also how they fail to realize that not everyone else is driven by monetary gains. 

Aquarius’s love to act like their egos aren’t big. The only reason why Leos get checked more on this is because of their bold sense of expression.