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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

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White Horse - Chapter 23: June 2024 - Part 4

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes:

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The smell of fresh croissants filled the apartment by the time Belle heard the knock at the door.

She padded barefoot across the kitchen tiles, hair still messy from sleep, and opened it to find Emilie standing there — oversized sunglasses perched on her head, a tote bag dangling from one arm, and a smug, very satisfied smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"You brought pastries," Belle said, immediately stepping aside to let her in.

"I also bring gossip," Emilie said, sweeping dramatically into the kitchen. "And judgment. Lots of judgment."

Belle laughed under her breath and grabbed two mugs from the shelf. "Coffee?"

"Obviously," Emilie said, dropping the tote on the counter. "You’ll need it for this."

Belle handed her a cup and sat down at the table, folding her legs beneath her. "Okay, what did you do?"

Emilie beamed. "I may or may not have verbally eviscerated Charles last night."

Belle blinked. "You what?"

"Ran into him and Alexandra while you were busy being majestic and ignoring his fifty desperate texts," Emilie said, taking a sip of coffee like she hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb into the kitchen. "He stomped over, full of righteous panic, and I… handled it."

Belle covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to choke on a laugh. "Handled it how?"

"I told him," Emilie said sweetly, "that maybe, just maybe, if he had spent half as much time seeing you as he does now trying to fix his own guilt, he wouldn't be in this mess."

Belle’s eyebrows shot up. "You said that?"

"And more," Emilie said brightly. "I told him he doesn’t get to be upset about the horse. Or the apartment. Or the job. Because every one of those things was him not noticing, not you hiding."

Belle stared at her, heart twisting — with affection, with shock, with a deep, raw kind of gratitude she couldn’t quite put into words.

"You’re terrifying," Belle said softly.

Emilie grinned. "And yet you love me."

"I do," Belle admitted, smiling even as she felt the sting of tears at the back of her throat. "I really, really do."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes — Belle tearing apart a croissant, Emilie scrolling through her phone — before Emilie casually said, "Oh, and by the way, I also had a date last night."

Belle blinked. "You what?"

Emilie sipped her coffee like it was no big deal. "With Lando."

Belle nearly dropped her croissant. "With—LANDO?"

"Don’t yell," Emilie said, laughing. "You’ll scare the cats."

Belle gaped at her. "You had a date with Lando Norris and you’re just… casually dropping that like it’s nothing?"

"I mean, it’s not nothing," Emilie said, suddenly a little shy, cheeks pinking. "It was… nice. Really nice."

Belle set her coffee down carefully. "You like him."

"I might," Emilie admitted, voice soft. "I really might."

Belle sat back, a slow, warm smile spreading across her face. "You deserve nice."

Emilie shrugged, but she was smiling too. "He makes me laugh. A lot. And he listens. And he doesn’t… I don’t know. He doesn’t expect me to be anything but what I am."

Belle reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "That sounds pretty good to me."

"It is," Emilie said, squeezing back.

"And if he hurts you, I’m telling Max," Belle added.

Emilie laughed — a real one, full and bright and fierce. "Please do."

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Lando Norris

Belle: Hi Lando Emilie told me you two had a date recently.

Lando: 😳 uh yeah we did

Lando: I swear I was a perfect gentleman. Please don't kill me.

Belle: I'm not going to kill you. I just wanted to say something.

Lando: okay (this feels scarier somehow)

Belle: Emilie is one of the kindest and strongest people I know. She’s had enough people treat her like she’s second choice, or temporary, or just an option. I won’t let anyone add to that.

Lando: I would NEVER I mean it I really like her

Belle: Good. Because if you hurt her — if you make her doubt even for a second that she’s loved— you’ll be answering to me.

Belle: And I may not shout. I may not make a scene. But I promise you — you will know exactly how thoroughly you've disappointed me.

Lando: understood

Belle: I believe in people getting second chances. But I also believe in protecting the people who matter. Emilie matters. So if you care about her — really care — don’t let her ever question that.

Belle: That's all. Thank you for listening.

Lando: yes ma'am I promise I really do like her. A lot.

Belle: Then show her. Every day.

Lando: I will.

Lando: Also I think you might be scarier than Max.

***

Max balanced the box of pastries in one hand and rang the doorbell with the other, Belle tucked close to his side.

From inside, he could already hear the low thud of feet — Luka, probably, trying to beat everyone else to the door. There was a scramble, a shout, and then Tom's voice, stern but fond, cutting through the noise: "Let her answer it properly, boys!"

Belle smiled up at Max, her hand slipping into his as the door finally swung open.

Victoria stood there, baby Hailey cradled against her chest in a wrap, her hair in a messy bun and an exhausted but beaming smile on her face.

"You’re late," Victoria teased, stepping aside to let them in. "I was starting to think you got lost."

"We had to detour for these," Max said, holding up the pastries.

Victoria snorted. "Bribery. Classic."

Inside, the house looked like chaos disguised as domestic bliss — toys strewn across the living room, Luka and Lio arguing good-naturedly over a pile of Lego, Tom trying (and failing) to get them to clean up before guests arrived.

"Uncle Max!" Luka cried, barreling into him.

Max huffed as the kid hit his side like a tiny missile but grinned and ruffled his hair. "Hey, champ."

Belle crouched to greet Lio properly, getting a shy grin in return before he wrapped himself around her leg like a barnacle.

Max’s heart twisted — the sight of Belle, already so natural, so gentle with the kids, even now.

Victoria plopped down on the couch, motioning them over. "Come on. Come meet your niece properly."

Belle followed, a little hesitant, while Max dropped the pastries on the table and shrugged off his jacket. Sophie appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel and greeting them both with kisses on the cheek.

"You're looking well," Sophie said kindly to Belle, squeezing her hand. "Keeping it all together, I see."

Belle just smiled — small, soft, almost bashful. Max knew the truth behind that smile. Knew how much it cost sometimes to keep it together.

Victoria grinned wickedly and, without warning, untied Hailey from the wrap and thrust her gently into Belle’s arms.

"Practice," she said, laughing when Belle let out a startled breath.

Belle blinked down at the tiny bundle, hands adjusting instinctively. Hailey made a soft cooing sound and settled immediately against her chest, tiny fingers curling into the fabric of Belle’s sweater.

Max sat down beside them, watching Belle like he was memorizing the moment.

It felt like the right time.

He slid his hand onto Belle’s knee, grounding her, smiling when she glanced at him — a question in her eyes.

He nodded, barely a tilt of his head.

Belle took a deep breath, looking down at Hailey, and then up at Victoria and Sophie.

"I guess we’ll need the practice," she said quietly.

Victoria paused mid-sip of her coffee. "What?"

Belle’s cheeks pinked. She shifted Hailey carefully into Max's arms, and Max cradled the tiny girl easily, used to the weight of something precious.

"We’re having a baby," Belle said, voice trembling but sure.

Silence.

Then Sophie gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Victoria’s coffee cup clattered against the table.

"No," Victoria breathed. "You’re serious?"

Max grinned, pride swelling in his chest. "Completely."

Victoria made a noise — somewhere between a squeal and a gasp — and surged to her feet too.

"Oh my God," Victoria said, practically vibrating. "Are you serious? You’re serious??"

Belle smiled — small but real — and Max thought he might physically explode from how proud he was of her.

"About three months," Belle said quietly.

Victoria burst into happy tears immediately. Tom wandered into the room just in time to see her practically tackle Belle in a careful, weepy hug.

“You sneaky little thing!” Victoria cried. “You didn’t say anything!”

Belle laughed, breathless and teary all at once, hugging her back.

Sophie was still standing frozen for a moment — and then she crossed the room in three strides and pressed her hands gently to Belle’s cheeks, her smile breaking wide and a little broken.

"I’m so happy for you," Sophie whispered, voice thick. “My sweet girl. You’re going to be such a good mom.”

Max swallowed hard around the lump in his throat as Belle leaned into it, tears slipping down her own cheeks.

Victoria clapped her hands once, bright and chaotic. "This is amazing!" she said. "Luka! Lio! You’re going to have a new baby cousin!"

Luka whooped and ran in circles around the couch. Lio just grinned shyly and latched back onto Belle’s leg.

***

The late afternoon light slanted warm through the apartment windows, dust motes swirling lazily in the golden air. Belle sat cross-legged on the couch, wearing one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies — it nearly swallowed her whole — flipping idly through a book she hadn’t really been reading.

Max was stretched out beside her, long legs hanging off the edge, his hand absently tracing the seam of the couch between them. It was quiet in the way it only ever was with him — no pressure to fill the space, no need to perform. Just breathing, just being.

Belle felt him shift, roll onto his side to face her. She looked up from her book and smiled automatically, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Max hesitated.

Then, in a voice so soft it made her chest ache, he said, "Can I...?"

His hand hovered mid-air between them, uncertain. And for a second Belle didn’t understand — until she realized his eyes weren’t on her face.

They were on her stomach.

Still flat. Still unchanged. But growing. Quietly, invisibly.

Their baby.

Belle’s breath caught in her throat.

She nodded, just once, not trusting herself to speak.

Max moved carefully, like she was made of something fragile. His palm settled, featherlight, against the soft curve of her belly — and he exhaled a shaky little laugh, pressing his forehead against her shoulder.

"You can’t feel anything yet," Belle whispered, smiling into his hair.

"I know," Max said, his voice low and reverent. "But you're there. Both of you."

Belle let the book slip from her hands and wrapped her arms around him instead, feeling the way he cradled her so instinctively — like she was precious. Like she was his whole world.

After a long moment, Max pulled back slightly, still resting his hand against her.

"It’ll take a while before you show, won’t it?" he asked, voice gentle, almost reverent.

She nodded, smiling wetly. "First pregnancies usually do. Maybe not until four or five months in."

Max made a soft, thoughtful noise, still tracing tiny circles with his thumbs. "Good," he said. "More time to enjoy it before everyone starts trying to figure it out."

Belle laughed shakily, threading her fingers into his hair. "They’ll have to get through you first."

The look in his eyes — tender, fierce, protective — made something tighten in Belle’s chest. A thought that had been lingering there for days, tugging quietly at the corners of her mind.

Max was leaving soon.

Flying to Spain for the Grand Prix.

Another weekend of cameras, flashing lights, noise — and pretending.

Pretending she didn’t exist.

Pretending this didn’t exist.

Belle bit her lip, heart thudding a little too hard against her ribs.

It wasn’t just about the hiding anymore.

It wasn’t about keeping things private for their own peace.

It was about the quiet ache of being invisible. Of loving and being loved and still acting like she had to apologize for it.

She could handle being unknown to the world.

But she didn’t want to be invisible to it — not when Max was the best, most real thing she had ever dared to hold.

"I don't want to hide anymore," she said suddenly, the words spilling out before fear could swallow them down.

Max blinked, startled, lifting his head properly to look at her — really look at her.

Like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"You don’t have to," he said immediately.

No hesitation.

No question.

Just simple, devastating certainty.

Belle’s heart twisted painfully at the way he said it — like there had never been another option in his mind. Like loving her in the open was as natural to him as breathing.

She smiled — a little shaky, but sure. Anchored by him. By them.

"We don’t have to announce everything," she said, voice low but steady. "Not the baby. Not yet."

Her hand slid down to cover his, where it still rested over the soft, flat plane of her stomach — a touch so gentle it made her ache.

"But... us," Belle said, eyes searching his. "Our marriage. You. Me. I’m tired of pretending you’re not my home."

Max’s entire face softened — the kind of rare, quiet smile he only ever gave her.

Like something sacred.

Like something permanent.

"Okay," he said simply, voice rough around the edges. "Okay. We'll tell them."

And just like that, Belle exhaled — slowly, shakily — a breath she'd been holding for too long.

Not because she didn’t trust Max. But because she was finally starting to trust herself.

To trust that loving someone openly didn’t make her a burden. That maybe — just maybe — she could take up space without needing permission.

Belle leaned forward and kissed him — slow and sure — and Max kissed her back like he was promising her something without words. Like he was stitching the vow right into her bones.

No more hiding. No more shrinking. No more apologizing for what they had built.

Just them. Together.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Jos Verstappen

Max: Hey. Are you free to come to the Spanish Grand Prix?

Jos: I can be. Why?

Max: Belle and I are going public. About the marriage.

Jos: ...Finally. About time.

Max: Yeah, well. We wanted it to be ours first, you know?

Jos: I get it. What do you need from me?

Max: Honestly? Run a little interference. The media’s going to lose their minds. And Charles… ...Charles might combust.

Jos: You mean Charles is going to make it worse by running around like a headless chicken.

Max: Basically.

Jos: I’ll handle it. I'll be there. I’ll keep the worst of it off Belle.

Max: Thanks, Papa.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Lando Norris

Max: Heads up. Belle’s coming to the Spanish GP.

Lando: WAIT WHAT

Lando: LIKE ACTUALLY IN THE PADDOCK???

Max: Yes.

Lando: HOLY SHIT

Lando: MAX. MAX YOU CANNOT JUST DROP THAT ON ME LIKE THAT.

Max: What, did you think I was going to keep her hidden forever?

Lando: I mean YES???

Lando: BRO YOU GOT SECRET MARRIED AND YOU’RE JUST LIKE "oh btw here’s my wife" AT A WHOLE GRAND PRIX???

Max: Exactly. Soft launch. Race weekend edition.

Lando: THIS IS NOT A SOFT LAUNCH. THIS IS A NUCLEAR LAUNCH.

Max: You'll survive.

Lando: Will I?? Charles might physically explode on track. And the entire grid is going to lose their minds.

Max: Good. They deserve a little excitement.

Lando: I’m not emotionally prepared for this level of chaos.

Max: Too late. Prepare yourself.

Lando: I NEED A SUIT. AND ARMOR. AND POPCORN.

Max: Belle likes popcorn. Maybe bring some.

Lando: I'M TAKING THIS VERY SERIOUSLY, MAX.

Max: So am I. See you in Barcelona, mate.

Lando: I’m going to faint.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hulkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sergeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll and Valtteri Bottas)

Lando: 🚨🚨🚨 EMERGENCY 🚨🚨🚨

Oscar: Oh no what now

George: You can't just start like that and expect me not to panic.

Daniel: I LIVE for this energy. Continue.

Lando: Belle is coming to the Spanish GP. IN THE PADDOCK. WITH MAX. OFFICIALLY.

Lewis: ...well. That’s one way to drop a bomb.

Carlos: Wait, WAIT. Publicly?

Lando: YES.

Oscar: oh my god.

Lance: Charles is gonna combust like an overheated engine.

Zhou: Charles is going to find out and collapse in parc fermé.

Fernando: I'd pay money to see it happen live.

Nico H: Is anyone placing bets on HOW he finds out?

George: He’s either going to see them together and short-circuit or he's going to hear the rumors swirling and spiral in slow motion.

Daniel: Imagine him walking into the paddock, seeing Max holding Belle’s hand, and just… Rage quitting life.

Sebastian: Peace and love, but Charles needs to sit down and shut up.

Lando: I am 100% recording his reaction. I don’t even care anymore.

Oscar: Charles: "Hey Belle, why are you in the paddock??" Belle: "I'm with my husband." Charles: System error. Please reboot.

Lewis: Someone get medical personnel on standby.

Carlos: I'M STILL PROCESSING THIS He doesn’t even know Max married her yet. He still thinks Belle’s secret boyfriend is sugar daddy Fernando.

Zhou: No but seriously. WHO is going to tell Charles??

Daniel: It’s going to hit him like a freight train of bad decisions.

Oscar: We need an over/under on how long he lasts before he confronts Max.

Lewis: Five minutes tops.

George: Two minutes if Belle is holding Max's hand.

Alex: Negative five seconds if they kiss.

Fernando: I want a front row seat. No regrets.

Carlos: I kinda hope Max punches him first if he says anything stupid.

Daniel: You say that like Max wouldn’t absolutely end him with one (1) look.

Lando: I’m bringing popcorn.

Oscar: I’m bringing a camera.

Zhou: I'm bringing bail money.

Lewis: And I’m bringing peace and emotional support. (And also a camera.)

Mark: This is going to be biblical.

Nico R: If Charles survives it without crying, it’ll be a miracle.

Daniel: Imagine forgetting your sister’s birthday, her horse, her marriage, and then getting bodied by reality in one weekend. Elite.

George: This is going to be the greatest off-track drama of the season.

Carlos: And we get to watch it unfold in 4K.

Sebastian: Prayers for Charles.He’s going to need them.

Oscar: Charles isn't surviving this.

George: Neither am I tbh.

Lando: see you all in Spain let the games BEGIN.

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Belle: Guess what.

Emilie: 👀 What??

Belle: I’m going to Spain with Max. To the Grand Prix. Officially.

Emilie: WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT LIKE… WALKING INTO THE PADDOCK AS MRS. VERSTAPPEN OFFICIALLY OFFICIALLY?? 😭

Belle: Yes. We’re not announcing the baby yet. Just… us. No more hiding. No more pretending.

Emilie: I’M SCREAMING internally because I’m in public and I don’t want to get arrested but STILL

Belle: 😂😂😂

Emilie: I am so proud of you, Belle. So, so proud. You’re going to walk in there and light the place up and Max is going to look at you like you hung the stars.

Belle: He already does. 🥹

Emilie: DID YOU WANT ME TO CRY AT THE GROCERY STORE?? BECAUSE MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

Belle: 😂 Sorry not sorry. (Also… any outfit suggestions for my "Hey, I'm married to a World Champion" debut? 👀)

Emilie: DON’T MOVE. I’m pulling outfit options right now. We’re about to make Monaco’s most famous secret the event of the weekend.

Belle: Thank you for always being in my corner. 🖤

Emilie: Always. Now let’s pick a dress that’s going to make half the paddock faint. 😘

***

The doorbell rang, followed almost immediately by the sound of keys jingling and a familiar voice calling, "Don't panic, it's just me — and I'm armed."

Belle laughed, rising from the couch just as Emilie shouldered her way into the apartment, arms overflowing with shopping bags. Designer logos peeked from between brown paper and bright ribboned handles. Emilie kicked the door shut with one foot and dropped the pile dramatically onto the coffee table with a satisfied huff.

"I come bearing offerings," she declared.

Belle raised an eyebrow. "You robbed an entire mall?"

"Selective raiding," Emilie said sweetly. "And it’s called urgent fashion triage, thank you very much."

Belle shook her head, grinning as she started rifling through the bags. Soft silks, crisp white linens, sunlit yellows and rich blues — it was like someone had bottled the Spanish sun and turned it into clothes.

"You didn’t have to," Belle said softly, touched despite herself.

"I wanted to," Emilie said, plopping down onto the couch and already pulling out outfit combinations. "You’re about to walk into your first race weekend publicly as Mrs. Verstappen. You deserve to look and feel like a goddess while doing it."

Belle smiled, the word Mrs. Verstappen settling warm and giddy under her skin.

"And," Emilie added slyly, "it’s not like I needed much of an excuse for retail therapy."

Belle nudged her playfully with her foot. "You could always come too, you know. To the race."

Emilie gave her a look.

"I’m serious," Belle said, teasing. "Spain. Sunshine. Chaos. You could watch Lando drive. In person. Maybe even cheer him on."

Emilie snorted, but the tips of her ears turned suspiciously pink. "I am not that far gone," she said primly.

"Uh-huh," Belle hummed, utterly unconvinced. “Didn’t you watch a whole Twitch stream last week just to watch someone play virtual golf?”

"Shut up!" Emilie insisted, tossing a silk scarf at her. "Besides, Lando has a job to do. And so do I — making sure you don’t accidentally show up to the paddock in, like, a ballgown."

Belle laughed, holding the scarf up against herself. "Don’t worry, I am not planning ont that."

They spent the next hour going through outfits — laughing, discarding things, planning. Belle felt lighter with every minute, like the fear and tension of the last few weeks were finally cracking open to make room for something else.

When Emilie made her try on a soft linen dress and spun her around to admire her in the mirror, Belle caught her own reflection — flushed cheeks, bright eyes, the smallest, secretive curve of a smile.

She almost didn’t recognize herself.

Almost.

But this version — the one standing taller, shining quietly, no longer shrinking — this was who Max loved.

This was who she was meant to be.

And she wasn’t going to hide anymore. ***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Heads up. I’m bringing Belle to Spain.

GP: Hold on. Like… bringing her bringing her? Publicly?

Max: Yeah. No more hiding.

GP: Max. Have you thought this through? The timing, the media, the team — And, oh, I don’t know, maybe CHARLES??

Max: He’s not a factor. Not after how he treated her.

GP: I get it. Believe me, I get it. But you realize this is going to set off a bomb, right?

Max: Maybe it should.

GP: Max—

Max: He didn’t just forget her birthday. He forgot her. For years. He doesn’t get to dictate when or how Belle gets to be seen.

GP: (three dots appearing) (long pause)

GP: Okay. If you’re sure, I’m with you.

Max: I’m sure. We’re done pretending she’s not my wife.

GP: Alright. Just warning you — Christian and Gemma are going to have a heart attack. I’ll bring popcorn.

Max: Bring tequila too. For Christian. He’s going to need it.

GP: Noted.

GP: And Max? Good for you. She deserves to be seen.

Max: She deserves everything.

***

Max sank into the chair across from Christian’s desk, casually tossing a Red Bull can from hand to hand like he had all the time in the world.

Christian Horner leaned back in his chair with a sigh that sounded both long-suffering and suspicious. Across the table, Gemma — Red Bull’s long-suffering PR manager — tapped her pen against her notepad nervously, already bracing herself for whatever Max was about to drop into their laps.

Next to her, GP looked disturbingly calm, which only made Christian more suspicious.

Max finally set the can down, grinning faintly.

"So," he said, with all the innocent charm of a man about to light a building on fire, "I’m bringing Belle to the Spanish Grand Prix."

Silence.

Christian blinked.

Gemma stopped tapping her pen mid-air.

GP just nodded slightly, like he'd known this was coming for weeks. (Because he had.)

Christian leaned forward slowly, hands folded neatly. "When you say ‘bring Belle’..."

Max shrugged, far too nonchalant. "I mean bring her. Publicly."

Christian stared at him for a beat. "As in... she's coming as your wife."

Max grinned wider. "Exactly."

Another heavy pause.

Gemma looked like she was calculating seventeen separate crisis plans in her head.

Christian opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

"And," Christian said carefully, "does Charles know yet?"

Max leaned back in his chair, utterly relaxed. "Nope."

Gemma made a small, audible squeak.

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Max."

Max shrugged again, unbothered. "He had plenty of time."

"And he still doesn’t know?"

"Nope."

Christian exchanged a long look with GP, who simply lifted his coffee cup like you’re the one who wanted to manage Max, not me.

Gemma finally found her voice. "Are you planning to tell him before Belle walks into the paddock in Barcelona wearing a Red Bull pass and a ring?"

Max tilted his head, pretending to think about it. "I mean... should I?"

"YES," Christian and Gemma said at the same time.

GP just sipped his coffee and smiled.

"Max," Christian said slowly, like he was explaining something to a very excitable cat, "you realize this is going to break the internet."

Max grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Good."

"Belle is Charles Leclerc’s sister," Gemma stressed. "And you — you’re you."

"Which is why I married her," Max said simply, like it was obvious.

Christian scrubbed a hand over his face. "Do you have any idea the PR nightmare this could be?"

Max's grin widened. "Or," he said, "it could be great for the team. Verstappen and Leclerc bloodlines finally uniting. Think of the headlines."

Gemma looked like she was about to pass out.

Christian sat back, muttering something about needing a drink.

Max just leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, voice suddenly quieter but infinitely more serious.

"I’m not hiding her anymore," he said. "We agreed. She deserves better than that."

And despite everything — the chaos, the incoming storm — Christian found himself softening.

Because for all his recklessness, Max Verstappen had always been terrifyingly clear when it came to the people he loved.

"Alright," Christian sighed, raising his hands in surrender. "Bring your wife."

Max’s smile turned into something real, something proud.

"And Max?" Christian added as he stood.

Max glanced up.

"Maybe... maybe text Charles first."

Max smirked. "I’ll think about it."

GP, sipping his coffee: "He won't."

Gemma, resigned: "We’re going to need extra security, aren’t we?"

Christian: "And maybe a therapist on standby."

Max just whistled, hands tucked behind his head, already picturing Belle in his garage, wearing his team colors, no longer a secret.

Finally, finally, where she belonged.

***

Team Redline Stream Transcript

Luke Crane: Alright, boys, ready to get smoked by Max again?

Chris Lulham: Speak for yourself. I’ve been training.

Gianni Vecchio: Training what, exactly? Snack-eating speed?

Max: (laughs quietly) Just try to keep up.

Luke: (mock serious) Max, now that you’re a married man, you should slow down for us mortals.

Chris: Yeah, about that— Max. Max. Are we ever gonna talk about that?

Gianni: Yeah, mate. "Oh, I’m married," casually dropped in the middle of a press conference like you were ordering lunch.

Chris: You just YOLO’d your marriage announcement. No names, no details, just vibes.

Max: (grinning) Was there supposed to be a PowerPoint?

Luke: YES.

Gianni: Honestly, yes. Slides. Charts. Maybe a dramatic reveal with smoke machines.

Chris: At least a "guess who?" game. We deserve that much.

Max: (smirking) You’ll meet her soon.

Gianni: (suspicious) When is "soon"? Before 2040?

Max: (grinning wider) Spain.

Chris: Spain what?

Max: I’m bringing her to the Spanish Grand Prix.

Chat:

SHE’S COMING TO THE SPANISH GP

OMG THE MYSTERY WILL BE SOLVED

WE’LL FINALLY MEET MRS VERSTAPPEN

Chris: (wheezing) WAIT WHAT.

Gianni: You’re bringing your wife to a race weekend?

Max: (shrugs casually) Yeah. Thought it was time.

Luke: (mock offended) Wow. Betrayal. We get a cryptic marriage announcement and now a surprise reveal.

Gianni: No hints? No clues? No scavenger hunt?

Max: (laughing) Nope. You’ll see.

[Chaos continues with chaotic racing and Max being suspiciously smug.]

[About 45 minutes into the stream…] [Soft knock. Belle’s hand appears in frame — a mug of tea sliding onto Max’s desk.]

Gianni: (high alert) WAIT. WHO WAS THAT.

Luke: Was that THE WIFE???

Chris: ENHANCE. ENHANCE. CLIP IT. CLIP IT IMMEDIATELY.

Max: (without missing a beat) Thanks, Schatje.

Chat:

GUYS THAT WAS HER HAND I’M NOT OKAY

MAX SOFT LAUNCHING HIS WIFE VIA TEACUP DELIVERY I’M SCREAMING

"Thanks, Schatje" I’M SOBBINGGGG

HE SOUNDS SO IN LOVE WTF

She’s the real MVP bringing him tea mid-race 😭😭

Gianni: Max, you just BROKE the internet with a hand cameo.

Chris: Soft launch supremacy.

Luke: I need to know everything immediately.

Gianni: If Spain isn’t a full reveal, I’m rioting.

Max: (smirking into his mic) Be patient.

****

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/F1MemeHub: MAX JUST SOFT LAUNCHED HIS WIFE WITH A TEACUP DELIVERY LIVE ON STREAM 😭😭😭 "Thanks, schatje." I'm NOT OKAY.

@/GridGossip: Max: "You'll meet her soon." Also Max: casually introduces her hand and then acts like it’s a normal Tuesday. THE SPANISH GP IS ABOUT TO BE HISTORIC.

@/TifosiTears: Not to be dramatic but if we don't get a full face reveal of Mrs. Verstappen at the Spanish GP I'm organizing a formal protest outside Red Bull HQ.

@/SoftLaunchDetective: The fact that he called her "Schatje" in front of thousands of people and didn’t blink??? That’s LOVE your honor. That’s SOULMATES.

@/F1WivesClub: Me: I don't care about the drivers' personal lives

Max Verstappen, midstream: "Thanks, schatje."

Also me: building a shrine to Mrs. Verstappen immediately

@/mysterymrsverstappen: Hello yes this account is now entirely dedicated to figuring out who Mrs. Verstappen is. Applications for sleuths open now.

↳ @/GridGossip: Are we 100% sure it’s not Isabelle Leclerc?

***

The sun was already low by the time Belle found Max in the living room, stretched out on the couch with Jimmy curled on his chest and his phone in one hand. He looked up immediately when she approached, setting everything aside without hesitation.

She hesitated at the edge of the rug, twisting the hem of her sweater between her fingers.

Max sat up straighter, instantly alert. "Belle? What's wrong?"

She shook her head quickly. "Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just—" She swallowed, breathing through it. "I was wondering if you could... if you would come somewhere with me tomorrow."

Max’s eyes softened. "Anywhere."

Belle smiled faintly but didn’t move closer yet. The words were heavier than she expected, even though she’d thought about them all day.

"It’s... the anniversary of my father’s death," she said quietly.

Max didn’t interrupt. Just waited, the way he always did when she needed time to find her words.

"I go every year," Belle continued. "I bring flowers. I sit with him for a while. Just… talk. Tell him what he’s missed." Her voice cracked, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "It’s silly, maybe. But I—I don’t know how not to go."

"It’s not silly," Max said immediately, voice low and certain. "Not even a little."

Belle blinked hard, willing the prickling in her eyes to settle.

"I usually go alone," she whispered. "I always have. But... I don’t want to go alone this year." She hesitated, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Will you come with me?"

Max caught her hands in his, steady and warm.

"Of course I’ll come," he said, like it wasn’t even a question. Like he would’ve followed her to the ends of the earth if she asked.

Belle leaned into him, breathing him in — cedarwood, laundry detergent, and something that was just Max — and let herself be held.

"I want him to meet you," she murmured against his chest, voice small. "Even if it’s just... like this."

Max’s arms tightened around her.

"I’d be honored," he said simply.

Belle closed her eyes.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be quite so lonely after all.

***

The air was crisp and still when they arrived at the small cemetery just outside the city, the afternoon light casting long shadows between the rows of headstones.

Max kept close as Belle walked ahead of him, a simple bouquet of white roses, lavender, eucalyptus cradled in her hands. She moved with a kind of quiet certainty, like her body knew the way by heart even if her mind was somewhere else entirely.

They wove through the headstones until she stopped in front of one — clean, simple, with her father's name carved carefully into the stone. A small lantern stood by the base, unlit but lovingly maintained, and Max could tell just by looking at it that Belle came here often. That she cared.

He stayed back a respectful step while Belle knelt, arranging the flowers neatly at the foot of the grave.

For a long moment, she just stayed there — head bowed, fingers brushing the stone as if in greeting.

Then, without looking back at Max, she started talking. Softly. Gently. Like she was sitting across from her father at the kitchen table, not kneeling at his grave.

"Hi, Papa," she said, her voice trembling just slightly. "It’s me."

Max felt something tighten in his chest — the rawness of her affection, her grief, her love — so undimmed by time.

"I’m sorry I haven’t been by as much lately," Belle continued. "It’s been a... complicated year."

She smiled, small and sad.

"You wouldn’t believe it," she said, voice light but strained. "Charles won Monaco. And nobody noticed it was my birthday."

Max saw her knuckles whiten slightly where they rested on her knee.

"Not even them," she whispered. "Not even Maman."

She brushed a hand quickly across her cheek, but kept her shoulders straight.

"I waved at Charles in the garage," Belle said. "I smiled. And he smiled back, and he didn’t even know."

Max stepped closer, crouching behind her without touching — just there. Just near enough that if she reached back, he’d be right there.

"I didn’t get angry," Belle said, voice softer now. "I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just... let them forget. And then I walked away."

Her hand touched the stone again, almost like she was offering her father a secret.

"And I’m not alone," she said, a thread of something stronger — pride, maybe — weaving through her voice. "I got married, Papa."

She glanced over her shoulder then, finding Max’s eyes. He smiled — slow, steady — and nodded once, like he was promising he was still right here.

"I married Max," Belle said, turning back to the grave. "You would’ve liked him. He’s... he’s good. He’s steady in all the ways I needed and never thought I deserved."

Max swallowed thickly, feeling the burn at the back of his throat.

"And," Belle added, after a moment, her hand slipping instinctively to her stomach, "we’re having a baby."

The words hung there, delicate and astonishing.

Belle exhaled shakily.

"I wish you were here," she whispered. "I wish you could meet him. Or her. I don’t know yet."

Max stood, quiet but unmovable behind her, heart thundering with all the things he could feel but couldn't say.

Belle leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against the cool stone.

"I’m trying, Papa," she said, voice almost breaking. "I’m trying to build something better. A family where nobody feels invisible."

Max’s hands fisted at his sides — not in anger, but in fierce, helpless loyalty to her. He would help her build that. Whatever it took.

Belle stayed like that for another minute — breathing, grounded, tethered to something older and deeper than grief.

Then she sat back, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket, and turned toward Max.

He crouched down fully this time, opening his arms without a word. She came into them instantly.

For a while, they just stayed like that, kneeling together in the cold grass — Belle tucked into Max’s chest, Max shielding her like he could somehow carry the weight she never should have borne alone.

He pressed a kiss into her hair.

"I’m proud of you," he murmured against her scalp. "He would be too."

Belle nodded against him, and Max felt the faintest smile against his hoodie.

And right there, in the middle of a cemetery, surrounded by stillness and memory, Max knew it more clearly than anything:

Whatever happened — whatever came next — Belle was never going to walk alone again.

Not as long as he was breathing.

***

Lorenzo sat at his kitchen counter, staring at his phone like it might suddenly produce the answers he didn’t have.

The photo was still open on the screen:

Belle, in a field of soft gold light, her arm tucked gently around the neck of a stunning white mare.

Fleur.

He knew that name because Belle had written it herself — answering a question of a random user.

She looked happy.

Peaceful, even.

And God, didn’t that just twist the knife deeper.

Because they hadn't given her that peace.

They hadn’t even noticed she was still missing it.

It wasn’t the horse that gutted him, not really.

It was what the horse represented.

The life they’d taken from her when she was thirteen.

The dreams she never said out loud again, because what was the point?

They sold Blanche.

They let her sacrifice everything quietly so Charles could race — so

Arthur could race — and none of them had asked her what she wanted in return.

They just… assumed she’d move on.

But Belle hadn’t moved on.

She’d waited.

She’d mourned.

And when none of them circled back for her, she found her own way.

Without them.

Without him.

Across the room, his coffee sat untouched. Cold now. Like the pit sitting in his stomach.

Arthur was taking it badly.

Charles even worse.

Charles had been chewed out by Emilie a few days earlier — that much Lorenzo knew. Charles had tried to brush it off when he called later, voice tight and wounded, but the shame clung to him like smoke. Emilie hadn’t been polite about it, either. She had torn into him, sharp and clear and deserved, and Charles hadn’t even fought back.

Arthur was spiraling in his own way.

Blaming himself.

Telling anyone who would listen that he should have noticed Belle wasn’t okay. That he should have seen the signs when she started pulling away. That it was his fault she felt so forgotten.

But it wasn’t Arthur’s fault.

Not entirely.

And it wasn’t Charles’ alone, either.

It was Lorenzo’s.

He was the eldest. The one who was supposed to look out for them all when their father died. The one who was supposed to notice when Isabelle stopped smiling at family dinners. When she started standing a little farther away from them at the tracks. When she stopped volunteering information about her life, one tiny piece at a time, until there was nothing left she offered freely.

He had failed her. Worse than any of them.

Because he should have known. He should have seen her.

He should have protected her — from the weight of being overlooked, from the steady erosion of love measured only in podiums and points and wins.

And he hadn't.

He was ashamed.

Because he should have seen it coming.

He was the eldest.

He was supposed to watch over them all.

And instead, he had let Belle fade out of their lives like smoke slipping through a crack in the window.

Maman wasn’t handling it well either.

Their mother’s texts to Belle had gone unanswered for days. Her voice on the phone trembled more now, and she had started reaching for familiar things — old traditions, old recipes — like baking a lemon tart would somehow undo the years of not seeing her only daughter clearly.

But no amount of lemon tarts couldn't fix this.

Nothing could fix the years they spent forgetting.

And now?

Now Belle had a horse again — something he knew, deep down, she had dreamed about every day since the first had been taken from her.

But she hadn’t shared it with them.

She hadn’t shared any of it.

Because they hadn't earned it.

Lorenzo closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the counter.

How had they been so blind?

How had they let it get this bad?

He didn’t know where Belle lived now. He didn’t know who had given her that horse. He didn’t even know if she would ever want to come home again.

But he knew this: She had found happiness without them. And maybe — maybe — she was finally living the life they never thought to fight for on her behalf.

He just didn’t know if he would ever get the chance to tell her he was sorry.

And worse— He wasn’t sure he deserved it.

***

The private jet hummed quietly beneath them, the kind of low, steady sound that usually lulled Belle into a light doze. But not today.

Today, her nerves were a live wire.

She sat curled against Max’s side, his hand resting warm and steady on her thigh, their fingers loosely tangled together. Across from them, Jos Verstappen flipped idly through a magazine, a half-finished cup of coffee forgotten on the table beside him.

It wasn’t that Belle was afraid of Jos.

He’d been nothing but kind to her — gruff sometimes, but protective in a way that made her feel safe, not small.

Still.

Telling your father-in-law that you were pregnant — especially when your marriage was still a secret to most of the world — felt a litle daunting.

Max must have felt her tension, because he squeezed her hand, grounding her.

“You ready?” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

Belle nodded — small but firm.

Max leaned forward slightly, clearing his throat. “Dad?”

Jos looked up, eyebrows raised, expectant.

“There’s something we wanted to tell you,” Max said.

Jos set the magazine down slowly. His expression was unreadable — patient, but sharp-eyed in that way that always made Belle feel like he saw more than he said.

Max’s thumb brushed soothing circles against the back of her hand.

Belle took a breath. "I’m pregnant," she said, voice soft but steady.

The words seemed to hang in the air for a second, floating between them, too big and too small all at once.

Jos blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms slowly — and Belle couldn’t tell if he was about to yell, laugh, or both.

"You’re serious?" he said gruffly, but there was no bite to it — just something thick in his voice, something a little stunned.

Max smiled — that rare, raw smile that he reserved for the few people he trusted most.

"We just found out a few weeks ago."

Belle tightened her fingers around Max’s.

Jos stared at them for a long moment — at their clasped hands, at Belle’s steady eyes, at Max’s quiet pride.

And then — to Belle’s utter shock — Jos smiled. A real, honest smile, tugging awkwardly at the corners of his mouth like he wasn’t used to the feeling.

"Good," Jos said roughly. "You’ll be a great mother," he added, looking at Belle — and then, after a beat, to Max, "And you’ll be a better father than I ever was."

Belle’s throat tightened painfully.

Max squeezed her hand again, and she felt the slight tremor in it — the way those words hit him deep, carving something open and healing at the same time.

"Thanks, Pa," Max said quietly.

Jos nodded once, gruffly — like he couldn’t say more even if he wanted to — then grunted, reaching for his coffee.

"Hope you’re ready for no sleep and a lot of diaper changes," he muttered, like the most Jos blessing imaginable. "You’ll need all the patience you can get. Verstappen babies aren’t exactly easy." A faint grin cracked across his face. "Take it from experience."

Max groaned dramatically. "Don’t scare her."

Belle laughed, watery and surprised — the nerves in her chest unraveling into something lighter. Something real.

Outside the plane windows, the sky stretched out wide and endless and new.

And for the first time in weeks, Belle let herself feel it too — The future.

Opening up, bright and brave, and theirs.

***

Text Messages: Christian Horner & Fred Vasseur

Christian: Fred. Just a heads-up.

Fred: What now.

Christian: Belle will be in the paddock tomorrow. With Max.

Fred: What do you mean, with Max?

Christian: Exactly what it sounds like. Publicly. No more hiding.

Fred: Merde. Does Charles know??

Christian: Not as far as I’m aware.

Fred: You’re telling me Max Verstappen is about to make his marriage to Charles Leclerc’s sister public during a race weekend.

Christian: You might want to prepare your garage for a Leclerc meltdown.

Fred: I’m not paid enough for this.

Christian: Neither am I. (But at least it’s not my golden boy spiraling in public this time.)

Fred: I need a drink. And possibly a tranquilizer dart. For Charles.

Christian: Good luck. You’ll need it.

***

The hotel room was quiet, except for the muted hum of traffic outside and the low flicker of a Formula 2 race replay on the television. Max was already half-asleep, sprawled across the bed with one arm thrown lazily over the pillow where Belle had been sitting moments ago.

Belle sat cross-legged on the small lounge chair by the window, her phone in her lap, scrolling aimlessly — or, at least, pretending to. Her heart wasn’t in it. It hadn’t been all evening.

Her thumb hovered over the Instagram app again.

Tomorrow was going to change everything.

Tomorrow, she would walk into the paddock — into his world — not hidden behind whispered conversations or secret glances. She would walk in as his wife. Openly. Proudly.

For the first time, there would be no pretending.

And it felt… terrifying.

But also good. Right.

A smile tugged at her lips as she glanced back at Max, who mumbled something incoherent in his sleep and shifted closer to her empty side of the bed. Her heart clenched in that stupid, overwhelming way it always did around him.

She tapped into Instagram and stared at her profile.

@isabelleleclerc

It looked strange now. Wrong. Like a version of herself she was finally ready to grow beyond.

Belle took a slow breath and, with deliberate fingers, typed.

@belleverstappen

She paused for a heartbeat — not out of fear, but out of reverence. Out of the gravity of it.

This wasn’t just about a name. It was about a life she chose. A future she was building, one steady, stubborn step at a time.

She hit save before she could second-guess herself.

The screen flickered for a moment. Then it was done.

Belle Verstappen.

She set the phone down and padded quietly across the room, slipping into bed beside Max. His arm immediately found her, pulling her close in his sleep, like it was instinct.

She tucked her head against his shoulder, her hand resting lightly over the secret they still carried between them — small, invisible, but growing stronger every day.

No more hiding. No more shrinking.

Tomorrow, the world would know.

And for the first time in her life, Belle wasn’t afraid of being seen.

She was ready to be claimed — not by the spotlight, but by the people who mattered.

By the man beside her.

By herself.

***

1K notes · View notes

sweetblossomsss · 1 month ago

Text

IN THE NIGHT || J. YH (1/3)

Synopsis: You were just trying to survive. Dance, collect money, pay off your debt. Repeat. What you were not trying to do is to fall in love with someone you can’t have—not when you are owned by someone dangerous.

THEME: mafia!Yunho x Stripper!Reader

Warnings: Alright here we go. ANGSTY (MY FAV), SMUT, eating out, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, lots of back and forth/push and pull (you have been warned), mention of guns, someone gets shot, Yunho and Y/N are idiots in love, cursing, drinking, drunkenness, Y/N is in denial most of the time, we have Jae (IFYKYK), at his point he’s going to be my paid actor in my stories (Jae isn’t based on anyone), fluff, adorable happy ending, a drunk guy who tries to get at Y/N, have to break this up into 3 parts because tumblr hates me, I know I’m missing just lmk. PART 2, PART 3

Word count: 46K

Date started: EST 2024 Date Finished: June 4, 2025

Blossom’s Note: My petals, thank you for being patient. I haven’t forgotten about you. Life has just been hitting really hard. I’m doing my best to keep writing so bear with me. Now that we have that out the way, Yunho in this story had be kicking my feet at times. Let’s give an around of applause for Jae making a comeback in a different story lmao. Story was inspired by Obsessive by Lumi, Obsession by Mellina, and In the Night by The Weeknd. You know what to do, grab that popcorn and drinks and let’s get into it.

—

You sat in front of the vanity, brushing powder on your face to ease the shine on your face with practiced, steady hands. The low thumping of the bass from the club pulsed through the room.

You applied the final touches—coating the lashes some more with mascara, one more swipe of lip gloss, brushing through your hair with your finger, fluffing it out.

Lastly, you spritzed perfume along your neck and collarbone, scrunching your face up at the intensity of the smell as you waved the air off with your hand.

Placing the perfume down, you let out a sigh. Your eyes flickered to the mirror in front of you, roaming at your reflection. You felt the nerves kicking in, slowly.

Tonight was important. There was no room for mistakes—no room for excuses.

Jae’s orders.

And speaking of the devil—

A knock from the door echoed in the room. You stiffened slightly, trying to keep your composure but now having the nerves coursing through your veins at full speed. There was no need to turn around to know who it was.

Your eyes flickered through the mirror and stared at him. “There she is,” Jae murmured with a smirk as he stood leaning against the doorframe. His eyes are roaming with hunger—dripping with satisfaction at the sight of you. “My star.”

Your back straightens—gut twisting as he steps into the room all slow and deliberate. When he reaches behind you, his hand slides over your chest, all possessive like.

“You look so beautiful.” His palm flattened against your skin before reaching up to your throat, “All mine.”

You remained stiffened under his touch, jaw clenching. You watched him lean in causing you to exhale through your nose in disgust—fright. His lips brushing the shell of your ear, “Tonight we’ve got a very special guest.” His voice is low, almost playful. “Do not disappoint me.”

Your eyes flicked to the mirror.

Blank.

Still.

“Do I ever?” You asked him with calmness—too calm. Your hands forming into fists, trying to ease your mind.

Jae hummed as he tilted his head side to side slightly, “Mm, no.” He said thoughtfully. “But you’ve got this habit of forgetting who is in charge.” He pressed his body closer to you, “You start thinking you are free.”

The word free sends goosebumps in your body.

Oh, how you yearn to be out of this.

His breath touched your skin as he whispered. “Let me remind you once more—you are here because I allow it.”

“How can I forget?” You murmured, voice feeling tight, “You remind me every chance you get.”

A pause.

Silence.

You then hear a soft tsk. His hand slipped from your neck to your jaw, forcing you to face him, causing you to let out a soft gasp.

His eyes held that hungry, possessive look.

“That mouth of yours,” he muttered as he leaned in closely, gripping tightening, “it’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

He flickered his eyes between yours before letting go of your face, which caused you to inhale sharply as your hand reached to soothe the aching sensation on your face as you glared at him through the mirror.

“But don’t worry,” he circled behind you. “Not tonight.”

Your mouth parted slightly as you let out a shaky breath, eyes still on him. “Tonight I need to seal this deal.” He said as he stood still behind you.

He leaned down next to your face, removing some strands of hair from your face. You closed your eyes under his touch, feeling scared. “And I am counting on you to make sure it happens.”

His words held something dark which made your skin crawl as you clenched your jaw. He turned his head to your lips, leaning in, “Don’t make me regret it.” He whispered.

Your eyes snapped open as you looked at him through the mirror, hand sliding slowly off your face.

His words felt sharper than a knife.

He smirks at your reaction and stands up, taking a few steps back. And just like that—

He was gone.

Leaving the horrid, chilling of his absence behind.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

You felt the beating of your heart in your ears. You don’t move—not right away at least.

Your eyes looked into the mirror and saw that they were hollow—empty of life and light behind them. You saw the way you slightly shook, raising your hand slightly to watch it tremble.

You placed both hands on the table and closed your eyes. You inhaled and exhaled deeply—shaky—and then opened your eyes.

You blinked once. Twice.

Then—

You snapped out of it.

It’s time to get to work.

You reached for the powder once more—calming down the slight redness from Jae’s touch. You then just moved on autopilot—hands moving like they belonged to someone else.

You can’t afford to tremble in fear tonight.

Not when the wrong breath, glance, movement—anything—could send everything into a dangerous spiral.

You stood up and leaned your hands onto the table. “Showtime.” You whispered to yourself.

You turned around, heels clicking against the floor as you made your way to the door—mask in place, heart gone.

—

You could hear the loud chatter of men as you walked to the stage behind the curtains. You watched as your coworkers came off stage, talking about how exhausted they were.

Finally you arrived and took off your robe, handing it to security near the steps that lead to the stage. He places a comforting hand on your arm, “You got this!” He whispered to you with a smile, “You can do it, Y/N.”

You gave him a wink and a small smile before he left. You then turned to the DJ, who had a direct view of you from the outside, and nodded at him to which he returned and went to work.

Finally—

The music played.

A mysterious and sultry tune that resonated throughout the club as the lights turned down low. Slowly, you make your way up the steps and then onto the stage.

Instantly—the atmosphere felt electric.

Once your silhouette was spotted, loud hollering and whistling from men commenced. They wasted no time in throwing money like confetti, hungry gazes waiting impatiently for you.

Then it hits—

A golden glow spotlight that shined heavenly on you in synchronicity of your movements, making you the sole person of attention.

Every single step you took towards the pole was a calculated step to captivate everyone in the room.

You let your hips sway to the rhythm of the song, reaching out to wrap your hand in the pole. Your body quickly curves and twists in fluidity and sensual motions.

Slow and deliberately spinning to which you arched your body—commanding the room without a single word.

You then turned your head to the side, smiling at the men as they erupted with loud cheers. The bright neon lights made your body glitter shimmer as you gently landed on your knees.

You crawled to the edge of the stage where eager hands clutched bills. Men desperately waving it in your face—signaling you to go to them.

With practiced ease, you smiled at one of the shy ones. You beckoned him to come closer, watching him gulp in nervousness as his shaky hands reached out to give you his money.

You let out a small laugh at his actions. You got closer and grabbed his hand—guiding his trembling hands to slip a bill into the strap of your bra while “confident” hands found the curve of your hips—tucking cash into the waistband of your barely there lingerie.

You kept your composure, maintaining that sultry smirk—remaining in control, but inside your stomach twisted in horror.

Their fingertips would linger too long as their gazes stripped away your clothes. ‘Ugh’, disgust coils deep within your chest, but you don’t flinch.

You don't let it show.

Instead, you arched your back—letting their fantasies run wild.

You just kept selling the illusion they crave as you internally wish to scrub every trace of their touch from your skin.

But—

Your focus wasn’t on them—

Not tonight.

In perfect sync with the sultry rhythm of the song, you turned your head towards the vip section—a section that was far away from the sweaty hands and greedy gazes.

Perched in the dimly glowed of the private lounge sat him. The man Jae would not shut up about.

Jeong Yunho.

Wow—

Is that him?

You could feel your breath hitch for a second.

There was no denying that this man was dangerously handsome.

Just one look and you can tell the power he held.

That tailored suit not only reeked of expensive, but—the way it looked like it belonged to him. Molding to every sharp line of his body like it had been made with only him in mind.

The way his broad shoulders displayed, long legs spread in a way that screamed power and ease. One arm draped over the back of the leather couch, his fingers lazily tapping against the rim of the glass while the other rested on his thigh—just a few inches away from the women clinging to him.

Despite the desperate attempts for his attention from the women, his eyes were elsewhere—

On you.

His gaze was dark—unreadable—piercing in a way that, suddenly, the air around you got heavier—hotter.

His lips, slightly, curled into something in between amusement and intrigued.

It’s almost as if he was already three steps ahead of you.

You crawled to the center edge of the stage—right in front of his view in a controlled feline motion. Your hips sway to the slow, hypnotic beat as you feel the music pulse throughout your body.

You take this moment to take in his surroundings.

Men—standing stationed all around him, even on the steps that lead up to the VIP section. Silent but watchful.

Yet—

He simply sat there. Completely unbothered, as if he knew nothing could touch him.

As if he owned the room. And—maybe he did.

Heat shot up your spine as you met his gaze. You slide off the stage with each sway of your hips being a calculated promise. The front of your heels hit the edge of the bottom of the steps—still keeping that eye contact locked on one another.

Then—

Like a predator closing in on its prey—

You dropped to your hands and knees, feeling the velvet material of the stairs below them.

In this moment, it’s like the crowd disappeared—no longer mattering. Everything fades as his eyes are the only thing that fills your vision.

The world shifts. Music slows.

Suddenly, there is only you and him.

Your feline–like movements were slow and deliberate. Every crawl forward was a tease—an invitation wrapped in pure seduction.

That smirk on his lips remained. But his eyes darkened with something almost… feral. He raised the glass to his lips, never breaking that contact with you.

The women around him, who were desperately clinging onto him, shot you judgmental glares. You watched as their eyes burned with jealousy as they pressed their bodies closer to him.

But you don’t care.

You are here to do your job.

That’s it.

But they just kept on. They whispered vile things about you. Laughed at you. You couldn’t make out what they were saying in specific, but with the way they exchanged looks with eyes of venom—you knew enough.

But then—

He raises his hand.

A single powerful gesture and the chatter—

Stops.

They fucking froze in their words. You watched as they stiffened up as his eyes flickered to them with an icy glare. The girls looked down to the floor, feeling upset that they got him angry.

But with a wave of his hand, he silently orders them to leave.

They tried to protest but he gave them a look. A look that held many words. They let out an annoyed scoff as they get up—heels sharply clicking against the floor as they retreat to the shadows, arms crossing and hips jutting out with attitude as they glared at you.

Within perfect timing, you reached the top. You remained kneeling down before him—your pulse racing. You felt like his presence was a magnetic force that pulled you closer without even doing anything.

Your eyes flickered to the top floor. For a split second chills were sent down your spine—Jae standing there with arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

Reality hits you.

‘Don’t make me regret it’ his voice rang in your head. You take a slow, controlled inhale through your nose and gently exhale—controlling yourself.

You began by gliding your hands up his thighs—teasingly slow—until they rested on his hard muscles beneath the fabric of his suit.

You can feel the heat radiating off of him underneath you as you move up, sliding onto his lap with the grace of a predator claiming its prize.

Your hands run up his chest, leaning in just enough to let that tension build. Your breath warm against his ear, “Are you enjoying the show?”

He inhales your alluring perfume. His voice was low and smooth—sending shivers straight down your spine, coating your skin in goosebumps, “Immensely.”

Shit.

You can’t help the smirk that curves your lips as you lean back, grinding your hips just enough to draw a breath from him. You placed a finger under his chin—running your thumb on his lower lip.

The room around you seems to blur. The thumping of your heart matches the beat of the music as you continue to tease him with each controlled movement.

From your peripheral, you see his hands sliding towards your waist but—

Before they can reach you, you look at him with a challenge flashing in your gaze, “No touching,” you purr out, your voice dripping in mischief as you slide off him, caressing his face with your fingertips as you stand up. “Not tonight.” You winked at him.

You lingers there, a few inches away, your gazes locking for one last breath—a stealing second.

And then—

The shift happens.

Something dangerous flashed behind his eyes. That smirk curled into a scoffed out smile. Behind that smile there was something deeper, almost sinister.

You have no idea what you have done.

What you have started.

But you’re already turning away.

Your body swaying with each step as you head down the steps. You smiled at the men who stood at the bottom of the steps, shoving money in your face, happily taking them as you headed up the steps with the help of the club’s security.

You left him behind, craving for you again.

You returned to the spotlight, music sweeping to match the energy surging through your veins. The cheers grew louder as you finished your routine—bills raining down, more than you’ve ever seen in one night.

From the distance, Jae smirks as he flickered his eyes between you and Yunho—a look of satisfaction. Yunho can’t keep his eyes off of you like a hungry predator watching its prey.

You lit a fire within him.

You then vanished behind the curtains. Unaware of the chaos you left behind.

—

The crowd has since scattered, leaving behind drinks and empty bottles on tables. Chairs all over the place, thrown or fallen, with bills scattered on the floor and stage.

To say you were exhausted was an understatement.

You stood on the stage, eyes looking at the bills that had yet to be collected and sighed. You took off your heels and just dropped them behind you, then you tightened the strings of the silk robe and crouched down on the stage.

You gathered the money in a bunch and started collecting them—straightening them out before folding a good amount and wrapping a rubber band around it.

You’ll count it later.

Right now, you just just want to go home and boil the night off and sleep.

The laughter and chatter from your coworkers with their clients was a background hum to your own thoughts. Enjoying this calmness.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the shadow at first. Not until the overhead lights dimmed slightly, casting a silhouette over you.

“Impressive performance,” a deep, velvety voice drawled.

You froze.

That voice.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes up to the voice. Your breath hitched when your eyes locked onto his. The gleam in his eyes was something unreadable, “May I?” He asked as he extended his hand out for you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Your eyes flickered to his hand. You gnawed on your inner lower lip as you looked around the area. His men standing around you two, the same women from earlier with crossed arms with annoyance written on their face but most importantly—

No Jae.

You looked back at his face to which he tilted to the side, as if saying ‘well?’ Slowly, you reached out and grasped his hand, noting the rough patches on it as you stood up.

He steps to the side and helps you down the stairs with ease—as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

“Thank you.” You told him gently as you stood in front of him. He smiles and slowly releases his hand from yours, reaching into his inner pocket of the suit.

“This,” he takes out a thick stack of cash, neatly stacked with a white paper band wrapped around it, “is for making my first visit… worthwhile.”

Your lips slightly parted in shock as your eyes widened at the sight of the money. He just took that money out as if it was nothing but pocket change to him.

You felt conflicted.

“I–“ You couldn’t speak.

Your eyes flickered between the money and his face—you were hesitant.

What if this is a test? Should you even take his money? Was the deal completed? What would Jae say—?

“Take it.” His voice was softer, taking you out of your thoughts. He noticed your hesitation, his smirking slowly fading. “It’s not a gift—it’s recognition.”

You swallowed hard. You still felt reluctant at the offer but eventually, you slowly reached out, brushing his fingers with you as you took the money.

You gave him a small smile, “Thank you.” You tell him, keeping your tone neutral. “It’s very generous of you.”

“Of course.” He said with a faint smirk.

There was a pause between you two.

You slightly shifted under his gaze, feeling like you’re about to suffocate. “Um, so,” you say softly, “Thank you for coming tonight. We hope it was up to your expectations.”

You gave him another small smile and went to turn around but—

“Wait,” He said, grabbing your arm with the most gentle touch you have ever felt. You looked at his hand and then back at him, eyes slightly widened. “May I have your name?” He asked with a smile.

You could feel your heart skipping a beat—something you’ll bitch at yourself for later tonight. “I think that…” you turned to face him and gave him a coy smile that didn’t reach up to your eyes, “you and I both know I can’t give that to you.”

Now, it’s not that you were hiding. You would gladly give him your name except—

It was about protecting yourself from Jae. It felt like he owned your own name. Jae was very keen on keeping you all to himself—not even wanting to let others breathe your air.

You can see his face slightly drop but kept smiling. “But,” you stepped closer fingertips lightly brushing against his chest, trailing down the smooth fabric of his suit until it hovered just above the top of his belt, “it was lovely meeting you… Mr. Jeong.” You murmured as you looked up at him with your lips curling into a teasing smile.

But before you could take a step back, his hand caught yours, once more, “Something tells me this won’t be the last time I’ll be seeing you.” He said in a low voice, laced with certainty.

His eyes bore into yours, a smirk on his lips.

You let out a small scoff as the smile remained on your lips. You then slipped your hand out of his grasp, turning on your heels as you walked to the curtains.

His eyes stayed fixed on you until you disappeared—not bothering to glance back at him. He stayed there for a moment. The ghost of your touch lingered in his hand.

No one has ever made him feel so intrigued like how you have. Especially in such a short time like this. Yes, he has gotten dances before but something about you… he can’t pinpoint it.

“Who are you?” He murmured to himself.

He then straightened up, “Her name,” his voice low and sharp. “Find it.”

You won’t give it? Okay.

He will just find it first.

One of his men stepped forward, nodding once before disappearing.

Soon another one stepped forward, “Sir, the car is ready.”

He didn’t move at first, keeping his gaze on the curtain—wanting to open it and find you. He adjusted his cuffs on his suit sleeve and nodded, “Very well. Let’s go.” He turned around and headed to the entrance of the club.

His girls quickly dropped the sour faces and giggled as he propped his arms out to the side, causing them to hug his sides as they walked to the door. He glanced down at them with a mischievous smile as they whispered something to him.

Behind the curtain, you watched him the entire time between the narrow slits, feeling your heart race as you watched him leave. You stood up straight and let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

You took a few steps back and leaned against the wall. You then felt the stack of money in your hand, making you look down at it—fingers curling around it.

“Men,” you said in a whisper—bitterly, “They really do have it all, don’t they?” Your lips curl into a humorless smile.

—

It had been a week since that night.

A week since you disappeared behind the curtain, leaving Yunho behind—drowning in curiosity and intrigue.

But no need to worry, he sure as fuck did not forget you. Not the way you were perched up on him. Not the look in your eyes. Nor the delicacy in your touch. The way you said his name.

Safe to say, your performance—or rather, you—really sealed the deal with Yunho. Which is exactly why he was back tonight.

Partly to finish some business with Jae. But most importantly… in hopes that he is able to see you—even if it’s just a glimpse.

The lights were dimmed slightly in Jae’s office, casting a soft glow within the room. The air was filled with strong scents of expensive cigars and champagne with the music vibrating throughout the space.

Laughter echoed within the circle as Jae clicked his glass with Yunho’s—some liquor spilling out from the action. Jae leaned back into the sofa with legs spread comfortably apart, taking a huge gulp.

He sighed in satisfaction as he looked at Yunho. “Your terms are fair, Yunho.” He said with a grin. He then sits up straight with a devilish smile, “You won’t find a better deal elsewhere. Trust me.” His fingers lazily twirled the glass.

Yunho smirked as he placed his drink down onto the table, “Then we understand each other.” He said with his eyes glinting. “That’s all I need.”

Jae—a man who wants more and more. More reach, control, and power. But, in order for that to happen he needs Yunho—the man with the keys in his hands. He had the contracts, network, and the leverage.

And just like that—

The deal was sealed. Two men gaining more power and money. And to celebrate—?

Immediately, several girls came dressed in lingerie into the office—their eyes locking onto the scattered men in the room, picking who they wanted quickly. Jae gives two girls a glint of approval with his eyes as they sit next to him—all the girls settle in beside the men, laughter blending into the atmosphere.

Yunho looks at the girls who draped their legs over his. Watching how they quickly went to work when one girl slowly undid the top of his buttoned up shirt, caressing his exposed skin while the other rubbed his arm.

His expression was unreadable at the sight of them. “They seem to follow your lead without question.” Yunho said smoothly—calculated. He flickered his gaze to Jae, “Is that loyalty or… good training?”

Jae lifts his eyebrow when he flickered his eyes to Yunho, the corner of his mouth twitching, “Well, you know how it is,” He smirks.

Actually, Yunho didn't, but proceeded with your stupidity.

“Loyalty isn’t given. It’s bought. Broken. And rebuilt.” He looks at the girl wrapped in his arms, smiling, “Ain’t that right, baby?”

Yunho watched as Jae kissed the girl’s neck, making her laugh—a little too high. A little too fake. Yunho saw the way the girl tensed up her shoulders, how she looked at the floor, dead inside, before laughing in fear.

Then Jae gets a thought.

He looks at Yunho, removing himself from the girl’s neck. “Why?” He smirked, “Did someone catch your eye?”

“Well,” Yunho said in a low voice. “It’s hard to ignore someone who doesn’t want to be seen.” He reaches down for his drink and takes a sip.

Jae furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand who it was that he was speaking about. Then his eyes light up, snapping his finger when it hits him—

“You must be talking about, Y/N.” He lets out a small laugh.

He didn’t flinch.

He already knew your name.

The same night he sent his men to find it, he got it. Took a little bribing but nothing a few dollar bills couldn’t fix. The girls talked—eventually—made the men swear they won’t even breathe a word about this to Jae.

Yunho leaned back in quiet satisfaction, letting your name settle in his mind. He didn’t answer back at Jae, but that’s all Jae needed to know.

“Do you…” Jae paused. Something dark flickered in his eyes. “Want to meet her?” He asked casually—too casually.

But his tone said otherwise. It’s as if he was going to show off his most prized possession. Telling Yunho subliminally that you belonged to Jae.

Yunho stayed silent.

Didn't blink.

He remained leaning back, the corner of his mouth barely twitching as his eyes locked with Jae's— unreadable but speaking volumes.

A slow, knowing smile slowly crept on Jae’s lips. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, keeping his eye contact with Yunho. Instantly, one of his men appeared with readiness as he leaned down to Jae’s level, “Go get her.” Voice was low and smooth as he whispered.

The man gave a curt nod, "Yes sir." And with that he slipped away.

Jae downed his drink, placing it on the glass table in front of him. “I figured you would want a closer look.” Jae said. “Eventually.” His smirk widening just enough.

Yunho gave him a faint smirk back, remaining silent.

This game just started.

—

Finally, the night was over.

Fuck.

The music faded, stage lights dimmed, and the noise from the crowd was nothing but an echo behind you as you stepped off the stage.

You thanked the security who handed you your robe and quickly slipped it on as you made your way to the dressing room, exhaling after a long day of work.

You shut the door and instantly, your body ached with exhaustion. You made your way to your chair and just dropped onto it. You sighed in relief as you kicked off your heels—flexing your sore feet, moving them in circular motions to get the circulation flow back with a slight tingling fire feeling.

You leaned back in your chair, throwing your head back as you closed your eyes for a moment. ‘Home’. It was all you can think about right now. You couldn’t wait to get out of this heavy makeup with this outfit that makes you feel like your boobs are pushed up to your ears.

Slowly, you get up, winching in pain as your joints burn, limping slightly at the ache in your legs. You rolled your shoulders back, moving your head side to side as you took off your robe.

You started to gather your things off the counter until—

A sudden knock on the dressing room door snapped you back into reality as you jolted. “Y/N?” Your body tensed up when you heard your name, muffled.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, eyes shooting to the door, “Boss wants to see you.”

Oh, fuck no.

You closed your eyes as your jaw tightened. You exhaled a sigh of frustration through your nose. And just like that, the ache in your body was instantly forgotten—replaced by the heaviness settling in your chest—anger in your body.

You walked to the door and opened it with an attitude, “Can you tell him that I—“

“You’re coming.” He cuts you off, words feeling like a slap in the face. “Now.”

You glared into his emotionless face. You wanted to scream but you stayed silent. You turned around, putting on those dreaded heels back on. Once you finished, you stood up and closed your eyes one last time to enjoy the final peace you had.

You turned back to the guard, who didn’t even say a single word. You glared at him and he nodded, stepping to the side, waiting for you to follow him.

And you did just that.

The small peace you had was completely snatched from you.

—

Every step that led to him was a step you dreaded. This walk to his office felt longer than usual for some reason tonight. Maybe because you were just tired and wanted this night to be over.

Or because you hated him and didn’t want to see Jae.

Finally, you arrived at the door. You inhaled and exhaled, getting mentally ready for whatever bullshit Jae had in store. You nodded at the guy and he opened the door for you, his hand gesturing to go inside, “He is waiting for you.” He tells you.

You straighten your posture and take your first step inside and—

“Ah,” you heard Jae’s voice, “there she is!” You looked and saw Jae giving you the most wicked smile ever. He goes around the sofa and takes your hands, “my beautiful Y/N.” He plants kisses on them.

Before you could even gather your bearings—Jae grabbed your wrist and pulled you with him to the couch. He then pulls you down to his lap with a sharp tug. His hand immediately slid possessively across your waist and onto your backside, squeezing roughly.

You could barely suppress the flinch as the familiar disgust was threatening to show on your face, but you quickly pushed it down—giving a tight smile.

You looked across from you and froze.

How did you not see him? Maybe that’s why Jae was acting the way he was with you at first.

Yunho was watching you intently. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied your body language. His gaze flickered to Jae’s hand on your waist—his expression was unreadable but the slight crease of his brow didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Jae chuckled, “Beautiful, isn’t she?” He said as he admires—if you can even call it that—you. “She’s shy at first but—once she knows her place, she is perfect.”

Yunho gives you a faint smile, “Beautiful,” he echoed, bringing his drink to his lips, “you got that part right.”

Your breath hitched—just barely.

Did you hear that correctly?

No—

No.

Last time you fell for a man’s words, you ended up in this bullshit.

This man is just as dangerous as Jae—if not, more.

Don’t be stupid.

“Pour me a drink, darling.” Jae said, snapping you out of your thoughts. Just like that, back to being a machine. He leaned back, arms resting on the edge of the couch.

You nodded as you leaned forward, grabbing the mini tongs. You placed three ice cubes into Jae’s cup—

“She’s a good girl, don’t you think?” He said caressing your back. You wanted to throw up from his touch as you poured his drink into the glass. “Knows how to listen. Knows when to stay quiet—that’s rare these days.” He said, looking at Yunho with a smirk.

You sat up and handed him his drink, watching how he smiled at you as he said a small thank you. Ugh, asshole. You wanted to throw the drink in his face and slap him right across.

During the interaction, you felt Yunho’s eyes on you. “Quiet doesn’t always mean obedience.” He said in a low, calm voice—an undercurrent tone you couldn’t pinpoint.

Your heart raced just a little faster at his response. Jae chuckled as he caressed your thigh. “Spoken like a man who’s never trained anyone.”

Trained.

That word sat heavy in your chest. You tried to keep your face neutral as you flickered your gaze to the glass Jae kept in his hand—waiting for this moment to be over quickly.

“Spoken like a man who’s afraid of what happens when they think for themselves.” Yunho answers back as he finishes his drink, placing it on the table as he stares down Jae.

His words ran a fucking shiver down your spine—fighting to not look at him.

Jae shifted beneath you—you can tell these words affected him. “Control is not fear.” He said smoothly. “It’s all about consistency. My girl knows that I’ve got her.” He smirks, “Therefore, she does not need to question anything. Right, baby?” He looks at you with a smile.

But before you could say anything—

“Or maybe she knows what happens when she does.” His words cut through the silence like a knife.

Your heart stops as you slowly look at Yunho.

No one has ever spoken to Jae like that.

Jae’s voice dipped into something darker, a grin still on his face. “Are you trying to say something, Yunho?”

Yunho slightly shook his head. “I’m just observing.” He said calmly. His eyes lingered on you as if it held you in place.

You knew the look in his eyes—the type of man who commands with just a glance. This only confirms how dangerous Yunho was and you do not want to fuck with that.

But—

You can’t help it. Something about him was tugging you towards him.

Was it…

The way he looked at you? The way he saw the cracks through the mask? The way he made you feel human, even if it was just for a second?

I mean—You don’t even know man. Yet, slowly, he has undone some of your walls… just with words.

Wait—

Stop—

This was reckless.

You have to stop it.

You know better than to want answers. Curiosity in this world gets people killed.

—

It was later in the night.

Yunho was sitting in the back of the car with one arm slung casually along the seat—the window cracked open as the smoke from his cigar disappeared into the night air.

His driver was silent—ready for any command.

But Yunho—

He was busy.

He was watching you.

There you were. Standing outside with Jae—who had two of his men standing behind him. You were at the back of the club, away from curious eyes. Your coat was wrapped tightly around you, shielding you from the cold night.

You adjusted your purse strap on your shoulder and then crossed your arms, looking away from Jae with attitude.

Jae had stepped closer to you—the argument was escalating as you looked back at him and scoffed at whatever he said, shaking your head at him in disbelief.

Jae just looked away from you, smoking his cigarette as he waited for you to comply with what he asked of you. You glared at him with fury in your eyes as you opened your purse, grabbing the stacks of cash and shoving it to his chest.

Jae stumbled back slightly—taken aback by your actions as he looked down at the money on the floor. He exhaled through his mouth as closed his eyes, letting out a scoff. He smirked as he looked back up at you, face written with anger.

“What do we have here?” Yunho murmured to himself as he tilted his head slightly in curiosity—the tip of his cigarette glowed a faint red as he took a drag, casting a brief flicker of light across his face.

“Sir?” The driver asked, looking through the mirror. But Yunho stayed silent, just keeping his eyes on you.

You then proceeded to tell Jae something that just sets him off, talking back at you in anger. You roll your eyes at his stupidity. Done with his bullshit, you turned around—

But—

Then it happened.

Jae’s hand shoots out and grabs your face, roughly and controlling as he leaned in, yelling something directly in your face. Yunho can faintly hear you yelling at Jae to let you go as you try removing his hands off of you.

There was a lot of back and forth yelling but eventually—

He let go.

Your chest was heaving as you looked at him with fear and anger all mixed up. You adjusted your purse and turned around to walk away—fast. But Jae tsks as he dropped his cigarette to the floor and rushed to you but only this time—

It’s gentle.

He caught up to you and turned you around, softly. You closed your eyes as he caressed your face, him apologizing for his actions. But you aren’t falling for his antics.

You completely tensed up as you looked away, removing his hand from your face as your lips curled in disgust from his touch. He caresses your hair and leans down, whispering something in your ear causing you to freeze and look up at him.

He steps back and walks to his car, opening up the backseat door for you. He gestures for you to enter as he gives you a smile. Yunho can see your hesitation.

He sees the way your eyes linger on the car before you slowly make your way to the car, stopping once more but eventually, you climb into the car. Jae then follows suit but before closing the door he orders one of his men to pick up the money.

Yunho flicked the cigarette out the window, little flicks of ember spark upon contact to the floor. Interesting, he thought.

“Let’s go.” Yunho told his driver.

And with that they took off, leaving Yunho curious of what just went down.

—

It’s been a few weeks and Yunho has now become a permanent fixture within the club. But of course, it was bound to happen now they are partners.

It just means he isn’t going anywhere.

You saw him more often than you wanted to.

He never once did anything to make you feel uncomfortable but—you won’t deny the feeling that occurs within you when you two lock eyes.

You don’t know what it is. It’s unspoken—unnamed. But it weighed very heavy every time.

The club was darker tonight. A spotlight on you as you performed. The music was sultry, dangerous—enough to make the men holler for you as you gave them your captivating smile.

Off in the distance, Jae leaned back against the leather of the booth with a lazy smirk on his face, “She is something, isn’t she?” He said in awe of you as he watched you dance.

Yunho just hummed in response.

He leaned forward as his elbows rested on his knees, glass dangling from loose fingertips. His eyes followed your movements, feeling like he was in a trance.

He then looks down to the floor and ponders hard before asking, “What is she to you?” His voice was quiet yet it sliced through the noise.

Jae didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, there was a pause. Both men looked at you in admiration—well, one did. The other looked at you as a money making machine.

“She is everything to me.” Jae said in a serious tone, downing his drink, letting out a satisfied sigh.

He then sits up with a face full of smugness. He places his cup on the table, opening up the bottle of liquor, “She is the best thing I ever invested in.”

Thing.

Asshole, Yunho thought as he let out a small scoff that went unnoticed.

Yunho looked at him with an eyebrow raised, “Invested?”

Jae chuckled, tipping his glass towards the stage in faulty delight. “Found her working at a shitty diner. She was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen…” He said as he zoned out, daydreaming about when he first saw you.

All bright smiles. Now they are all gone.

“Well,” Jae said, clearing his throat, snapping out of it. “I made her an offer, one where she can make real money—to live a little, ya’know?”

He then leans closer to Yunho, lowering his voice, “But, let’s just say, she signed the contract without reading the fine print.” He lets out a cackle as he shoves Yunho as if he just said the funniest joke ever.

“Ahhh,” he sighed happily, in a daze. “Now, she belongs to me.”

Let me tell you, if looks could kill—

Jae would’ve been dead.

Yunho’s stare had darkened but his face just remained cold—expressionless. He can’t believe someone would do something so fucking cruel to a person who was just trying to survive.

“Hey,” Jae said as he tapped his arm, “do you want a closer look?” He offered you. He then places a hand on his own chest, “It’ll be my personal gift to you.” He smiles at him.

He then gets serious, “But,” he warned, “don’t get attached.” He said in a low tone. They just stared at each other before Jae bursted out into laughter making Yunho smirk back at him.

Yunho looked away from Jae and watched you finish your dance. Jae didn’t bother for a response as two girls approached him and easily got distracted. Idiot, as always.

When you finished your set, your eyes roamed the crowd—the room. You caught Yunho’s eyes already looking at you and it felt as if time slowed down for the both of you.

But reality came striking in as the lights turned off—snapping you right back into the moment as you disappeared behind the curtains.

Yunho just kept his gaze on you.

Little by little, things were starting to make sense to him.

—

After the performance, the club was winding down. Once again, as always, right when you’re about to leave—

Jae.

Of course.

But this time, it’s slightly good news?

You stood off at the side of the bar, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stood in your silk robe. Jae was completely leaned into your space—mouth near your ear, smiling as he spoke to you.

Completely blinded that he didn’t notice your face was carved out in flat annoyance as you stared into an empty space—wondering when the fuck this conversation was over.

From the shadows, way up near Jae’s office, Yunho had the perfect view. He saw the way Jae cupped your face, caressing it with his thumbs as if you were something so delicate he wanted to take care of.

Right.

He saw how you removed his hand with a sharp flick of your wrist—careful to not draw attention from your coworkers. Jae’s smile faltered for half a second before snapping back into his cruel self.

He closed his hand around your arm, fingers digging into it as he guided you around the corner where the noise of the club thinned out, swallowed by the heavy walls.

He leaned in, voice low. “I’m leaving the city for a bit.” He said as he brushed a stray hair from your face.

Oh?

“Business things, you wouldn’t understand.” He said condescendingly, making you exhale deeply. “You see, there are some things I have to finish now that Yunho is onboard with us.”

You stayed still.

Silent.

Jae’s mouth curled into a smirk. His hand lifted your chin to face him, “And since I’m leaving, I’m trusting you with a little responsibility, mmh?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What is it?”

His hands slide around your waist, bring you close to him as he sways you two a little bit. “Take care of our new partner, yeah? I want you to show him why we are the best in the business.”

Your stomach twisted.

“But,” his eyes darkened. “Don’t get any fucking ideas. Do you understand me?”

You nodded as you swallowed down your nerves. “Good.” He said smiling. “I don’t know when I’ll be back but—“

He leans in slightly.

“Don’t give me a reason to come back early, alright?” He then gives you a patronizing little tap under your chin before walking off, leaving you standing there.

Yunho watches as you stand there, letting Jae’s words sink in your mind.

Slowly, he starts to back up into the shadows—disappearing just in time as you flickered your gaze up to the third floor where Jae’s office was, feeling someone looking at you.

But no one was there.

—

Jae has been gone for some time now and quite frankly it has been… peaceful.

Everything seems to flow with ease now. The club seems vibrant with good energy. The girls seemed happier and actually laughed more. Security seemed relaxed, less tense than normal—everything just seemed lighter.

As if everyone can breathe.

Why is that, you may ask?

Yunho was the complete opposite of Jae.

He earned the respect of people without raising his voice or barking out orders.

And the girls? Well, they noticed it.

They laughed more when he was around, joked with him in between sets—hell, even the newest ones felt safe enough to talk to him about issues they had. Something no one ever bothered doing with Jae.

It’s like he was always surrounded by them. Comfortable enough to drape themselves over him, flock to him, hooking arms around his shoulder or arms as they whispered things into his ears that made them giggle in the process.

They craved his attention—his gentle touch. A small piece of him. But it was understandable—we never had this type of figure in our lives at the club—it’s almost as if he was something the club itself was missing.

And you would see how he would let them.

Let them play their games. Pour his drinks. Caress his whole body.

You also saw how he would lean in, whispering sweet nothings to them making them turn shy under his stare. How the girls would send glances at each other before standing up, grabbing his hand as they tugged him to one of the many private rooms—where fantasies would roam.

But—

You maintained your distance.

You’re not falling for his antics—his bullshit. I mean, let’s focus on the facts here; he’s just like Jae.

You tell yourself, ‘look away, it's not worth it.’

But—

Something always pulls you back.

You did look

Every time.

Every night, he would run off and disappear with different girls.

You had no clue what the hell would happen behind the closed doors but with the way they came out with makeup smudged, faces flushed, giddy as they adjusted their clothes, and fixing their hair said enough.

And Yunho? Untouched.

And yet—

No matter how much you try to avoid him, despite Jae's orders, he somehow manages to find your eyes through the crowd—every single time.

It never fails to make your heart race or breath hitch.

Like take tonight for example—

Finally, you finished your set and you just wanted to count your money and go. You were behind the bar, stacking up your cash tips into neat piles but your hands were trembling slightly.

Your fingers would fumble when you looked up to grab a glance—wanting to know if he was still looking.

And he was.

He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his stare was unreal to relentless. Feeling conflicted and frustrated with how easily you let him affect you—

You dropped your money and sighed, leaning on the counter as you closed your eyes, exhaling. You ended up gathering your money in one pile and decided to just count it in the dressing room—what you should’ve done in the first place.

You gave him one last look—slight annoyance written on to which he returned with a small smirk as you disappeared into the dressing room.

His stare felt like it whispered, I’ll see you. Soon.

—

The following night, you were in the dressing room with the rest of the girls—shift change.

But not for you, you have been here the whole day.

Some girls were wiping off their makeup and talking out loud about some handsy, cheap men, gaining some laughs from some girls as they made jokes over it. Some focused on getting dressed as they prepared for the night.

You sat at your vanity, tugging your zipper open on your makeup bag, grabbing your setting spray. You softly chuckled at the ongoing conversations from the girls as you took off the cap from the bottle and sprayed your face, waving your hand to help the skin soak in the liquid.

Once that was settled, you adjusted the straps of your outfit back onto your shoulder—hands moving on autopilot to adjust, tighten, apply.

Just as you were about to take off your heels to let your feet breathe for a second—“Hey,” your coworker leaned around the corner of your mirror, “You’re booked. Private dance. Room 11.” She said lazily chewing gum, voice casual.

You let her words sink in as you felt your sore body crying, complaining at her words. You exhaled slowly through your nose as you nodded at her words, giving her a forced smile, “Got it.”

She flashed you a wink and disappeared around the corner. You sat there for a second longer, staring at your reflection. You mentally tell yourself ‘you can do it’ as you get up, roll your shoulders and head out the room with some girls telling you good luck as you give them a small smile.

—

You approached room 11 and stopped in front of it. You gave your body a little shaky to wake yourself up and exhale once. You steadied your hand into a fist, knocking twice.

“Come in.”

You turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit private room. The heavy door thudded close behind you, muting the club's music into a dull vibration against the wall.

Oh my god—

There he was.

Yunho.

His legs were crossed at the knee—an arm draped lazily along the back of the chair while the other rested on the curve of his thigh with a glass of dark liquor dangling loose in his grasp.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t speak.

He just watched you through the huge mirror in front of him. A slow smirk curved his lips while you two stared at one another.

Internally, you were scared—shitless. You wanted to turn around and leave but Jae’s words haunted you. You had no time to slack off—

You leaned casually against the door frame, “Mr. Jeong,” a sweet, coy smile appeared on your face. “What can I do for you?” You purred, voice like honey.

His smile only widened—darkly. You pushed yourself off the door, ignoring the way your heart raced as your heels softly clicked towards him—walking around the room.

A predator's arc.

You let your finger trail lightly across the back of the leather sofa behind him until you stood directly behind him. Your hands slide down his chest, palms ghosting over his broad shoulders—all light and teasing.

You lowered your head slightly, just enough for him to feel the whispers of your breath against his skin. “You know,” you murmured, voice dropping to a sultry tone. “I was wondering when you were going to come to me.”

You felt the way his body tensed but barely. It was controlled within seconds.

Finally—

After what felt like forever—

He spoke. “I want you tonight.” His voice was low and smooth—unrushed. “Just for me.”

“All to myself.” He smirked. You felt the floor crumbling under your feet just by his words.

He tilted his head up just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. “You understand me,” he said as he caught your eyes. “Don’t you, Y/N?”

Hearing your name come from his mouth made your knees slightly buckle.

The room felt smaller now—hotter even. You felt your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

“I understand.”

You smiled at him as your hands moved around the chair, humans saying with a practiced roll. You deliberately dragged your fingertips across his chest as you circled him and stood in front of him.

You hooked your finger under his chin and made him look up at you, “So…” you whispered, voice dipping into something dark—intimate. “What are you willing to do to get what you want?”

He said in full confidence, “Anything.”

That smirk remained on your face, “Anything?” You repeated as you tilted your head. He nods once at you.

“Mm.” You hummed in amusement as you let go of his face, taking a step back. The way his legs spread out just enough seemed to invite you in—but not enough to beg.

His eyes burned into your figure, waiting for your next move. You turned around and walked to the speaker—purposely leaning down to press the button of the speaker, showcasing your curves.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at your action, taking a sip of his drink before placing it off to the side.

And just like that—

The music played.

You walked to the center of the room, sliding down to your knees—maintaining that eye contact with him. You slowly crawled on all fours to him until you were between his legs. Your hands gently caressed his strong thighs—

Moving them up and down a few times before you use his thighs to help yourself up—your hands finding the hard plane of his chest, giving him a push.

He lets you force him back deeper into the chair with a soft thud, smirk flickering at the edges. You swung one leg over him, straddling his lap with a slow roll of your hips that barely skimmed his—just enough for him to feel the unbearable heat trapped between your thighs.

You settled on him deliberately, your weight feather–light—teasing as your thighs squeezed around his hips.

You leaned in, mouth brushing against the shell of his ear, letting your breath ghost over his skin until you felt the sharp inhale he tried to hide.

Here goes nothing.

“Tell me you’re mine, Mr. Jeong,” you murmured to him—voice dipped in velvet sin. You rolled your hips—slow.

Controlled.

You felt him slightly tensed at your actions causing you to look back at his face. Your fingers reached up to his hair—just enough to make him obey.

“But look at me when you say it.”

His breath hitched—fuck.

We are just getting started and he already feels in heaven with you.

“Yours–” His voice was low and strained, distracted by your slow grinding. “I’m yours.”

You smirked at him as you tugged his head back, just enough to expose his neck. Your fingertips traced from the tip of his chin down to his chest—barely a touch.

He bit his lower lip in delight—hands twitching at his sides, aching to touch you but you moved faster than he could—

“Oh,” you scolded, voice teasing, ”Mr. Jeong. Keep those hands to yourself.” You smirked at him as you grabbed his face gently, bringing his head to eye level with yours. “Wouldn’t want to get in trouble.”

Although you held that smile—inside, your walls were still up.

This was just a fantasy—a role you were just playing. And this man did not belong in your reality.

His lips parted slightly—a low growl rumbling deep from within his chest. You silenced him with a single finger pressed against his mouth, “shh,” you whispered, giving him a faint smile—just enough to keep in control of the moment. “Don’t worry. You’ll get a taste… eventually..”

Your eyes darkened as you removed your finger from his lips, using that same hand to drag it down your body. Over the swell of your breasts. Down the curve of your waist. Moving with a slow, deliberate arch of your back that made your core pulse with need as you grind shading him again.

Instinctively, his hand shot up—desperate to feel you more. But you smacked it away with a sharp crack against his wrist—the noise cuts through the room, making his jaw flex harder.

You grabbed his face firmly with one hand, forcing him to look at you. “I said no touching.” You warned him, your tone in pure dominance.

His breath caught in his throat as your grip tightened on his jaw. There was a pause between you two as his eyes flickered between yours.

Until—

“That look in your eyes,” his tone was deadly, “I know you only get like that with me.”

You paused at his words. Your brain short circuits for a second—

But you’re quick with words.

You let out a small laugh, leaning as your mouth hovers over him, your eyes narrowing with the faintest smirk on your lips. “You must think you’re special.”

You let the words hang there, your lips inches from his. Then you pulled back, in control of the moment. “Don’t mistake the fantasy for something real, Mr. Jeong.”

You won’t fall for his charms.

His voice.

His eyes.

You won’t fall for his act.

He’s just like Jae.

You won’t be stupid—Not again.

Yunho’s gaze devoured you. His pupils were blown wide, jaw clenched so tight you could practically feel the restraint vibrating off him.

He stays silent.

And then—

That smirk again. It’s like he can see through you. It’s as if he knew something you didn’t dare to say out loud.

Your fingers were the first too move—

Eyes still locked on one another.

You reached for his dress shirt. Undoing one button. Then another. Slow, no rush. Your touch brushed against the heat of his skin with every pass.

When the fourth button slipped free, you shifted closer—your body brushing his. Your lips hovered over his skin, pressing soft kiss just beneath his collarbone—

Right over his heart.

Your lips press kissing trailing up to beneath the ear. “Tell me,” you whispered, “does it still feel real?”

Yunho threw his head back, making a soft thud with the she of the sofa as he fluttered his eyes close with delight. He let out a low, desperate groan that growled deep from within his chest. “Shit”. He whispered.

You felt him twitch underneath you—for the first time feeling helpless. His hands flexed into fists, trying to restrain from touching you as he kept letting out broken, low groans.

Your hands dragged slowly down his chest, fingertips gliding over his skin until they reached his thighs—thick and tense beneath your touch.

You began to rub them in a slow, tormenting rhythm—up, down, up again—never rushing. Your thumbs brushed dangerously close to his throbbing bulge, straining against his slacks.

He inhaled sharply—he twitched as his chest heaved, head still thrown back as he now gripped the edge of the sofa.

You felt it—the way he was eager to know what you were going to do next.

And just when you knew he was about to break—

You stood up and backed away—leaving him with the ghost of your touch.

He let out a wrecked, frustrated groan as he snapped his head up at you—pupils blown wide, completely dazed out as he panted hard.

His eyes tracked your every move like he couldn’t believe this shit. You really walked away from him. Fuck.

You turned your back to him, hips swaying with a deadly rhythm. You knew his eyes were locked on you.

You ran a hand through your hair, then glanced back over your shoulder—just enough to catch him watching. And you winked—causing him to let out a scoff in disbelief.

Crossing the room, you approached the silver pole in the center of the mini stage. You turned, leaned your back against the cool metal, arching into it with feline grace.

It was cold against your skin but you didn’t flinch. This was your moment.

You threw your head back, exposing the curve of your neck as your chest rose and fell with every breath you took. One hand slide up to your throat, letting out a moan as you squeeze it gently—

Then gliding both hands over your breast, looking at him as you give a soft, purposeful squeeze before trailing them down the sides of your waist with fluid motion.

Across the room, Yunho shifted in his seat—feeling like his clothes were getting tight, air was thinning—he felt like he was suffocating.

He grabbed his drink and brought it to his lips, fucking taking a gulp trying to control himself. His eyes never left you—they were locked on you.

Dark. Frustrated. Barely blinking.

You smiled to yourself, remaining quiet.

Your fingers slid down the hem of your top, dragging the fabric upward—slow and teasing—peeling it off inch by inch until you finally lifted it over your head in a fluid motion, dangling in your hand until you dropped it beside you.

The soft lace of your bra hugged your skin perfectly. The swell of your breast showing the rising and falling with each breath.

You let him absorb every inch of you.

You then do a 180 twirl on the pole and face the mirror. Your vision adjusts on his eyes as you smirk—slowly, you bent forward, hands trailing down the back of your thighs.

They glide over the curves of your calves as your ass arches up high in the air. You stood up with a sensual roll of your hips. Then—

Your thumbs slipped into the waistbands of your shorts—dangerously dragging them down.

Just slow enough to feel every inch of the fabric as it slid over your hips, down your thighs, past your knees… until they pooled around your feet in a soft heap.

You stepped out of them, now standing in nothing but a delicate lace bra and matching thong.

You felt him. There was no need to look at him.

The way the air had thickened—the way his breathing faltered behind you.

He was dying in that seat.

And you weren’t done yet. Nope.

You turned your head—just slightly. Just enough to glance over your shoulder.

The corner of your mouth lifted into the softest, cruelest smile when you saw the sight of him—

Jaw clenched. Eyes dark. Chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Completely wrecked.

Then you moved again—slow, dangerous, with a rhythm, turning around to face him.

Just then, you let your fingers trail down your stomach, throwing your head back as you bite your lower lip.

You lower and hover right at the thought of something completely unholy—

The music stopped.

Room fell into silence as you lifted your head and looked at him.

No one spoke.

Until you did, giving him a smile, “We are finished here.” You say softly as you walk to the robe hanging on the wall.

He didn’t move at first. Just sat there—shirt half unbuttoned, chest rising and falling like he’d been holding his breath during the whole performance.

Then his chair scraped back slightly as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low and raw. “What the hell just happened?”

He wasn’t angry—just wrecked.

You turned your head to him, tying your robe, “A performance.” You said smoothly, walking up to him. “Did you enjoy it, Mr. Jeong?”

He remained silent and broken—wrecked, disbelief. He sat there fuming and aching, wondering where the fuck did time go.

You smiled, politely, and reached for his cup. “I’ll get you another one, sir.” You offered as you headed towards the minibar.

It was a habit. You did it for Jae. You did it for clients. Nothing more.

Yunho stood up and adjusted the buttons on his shirt, shaking his head as he let out a broken chuckle—he didn’t know if to laugh or curse. He turned his head to you and watched as you made his drink, ice clinking softly as you poured.

“How do you…” His voice was rough and low, “turn it off so quickly?”

You see glass down on the counter, feeling your hands shake as you try to calm down your rushing heartbeat. “What do you mean, Mr. Jeong?” You asked him, tilting your head in confusion.

There was a pause as he looked at you. He reached for his drink without looking at it—still trying to piece together what just happened.

He gives a small smile, slightly shaking his head. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

But there was something that flickered behind his eyes—something you couldn’t pinpoint.

You slowly gave him a polite smile, stepping back. “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Jeong.”

But his eyes were still on you—quiet, unreadable.

“You know,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, “you can call me Yunho.”

You maintained a professional smile. “Of course, Mr. Jeong.” You said it softly—sweetly even.

But it hit Yunho harder than a slap.

“I hope you have a good night.” You tell him as you walk around him, getting ready to leave the room as your heels click on the floor.

But then—

Thud

You froze mid-step.

The sound cracked through the room—loud and final. He had the final power move.

Your heart jumped, slamming against your ribcage. You tell yourself to not turn around but—slowly, you did, internally cursing at yourself.

Two thick stacks of money sat on the bar’s counter. Tossed like they meant nothing, but to you it meant everything. Your eyes lifted to him.

He hadn’t moved. He stayed watching you.

“I know why you’re here.” His voice was low. “That night outside of the club—I saw you and Jae.”

Your breath caught as you slightly stepped back, eyes widening. “I saw you handing him all of your money.” He said as takes one step towards you.

You looked at the floor frantically—breathing a little bit heavier. You felt embarrassed right now, humiliated. Your eyes shot to him, “That doesn’t concern you.” You said in a cold tone.

He ignores your tone and steps closer to you. “You’re right, you’re right...” He shrugs and stops as he looks into your eyes. “But no one deserves to be treated like that.”

You didn’t look away.

Just stood there in silence. Letting his words wash over you. His words come back, getting you out of your thoughts, “This is what you’re going to do,”

He reaches for one of the stacks and slides it across the counter towards you, “You’ll give this one to Jae.” He pauses and then he picks up the other stack and hands it to you, “And this one—you keep. Spend it however you want.”

You stare at the money, feeling your pulse ring in your ears. “I can’t.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

“You can.” Yunho said with his tone unwavering—expression unreadable.

You shook your head, “No.” You said taking a step back, “I don’t want it.” Your breath was shallow as you turned around, feeling the room spin.

Your heart was racing, palms were sweaty. You placed your hand on your heart as you closed your eyes, trying to calm down the spinning in your head. You didn’t notice how fast you were breathing until Yunho stepped in front of you.

“Hey, hey.” He said softly as he took your hands, gently to ground you. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes shoot to him. “You don’t understand.” You tell him as you swallow to moisten your dry throat, “Jae will find out. You don’t know the things he will do once he does. He watches everything—He’ll know. He’ll know I’m hiding money—“

“He won’t find out.” He cuts you off gently. He held your gaze as he cups your face, “This stays between you and me. Okay?”

You didn’t speak.

You just nodded. Small.

“Okay.” He said in a whisper as he gave you a small smile.

You didn’t notice it but this was the first crack in your mask—your first moment of trust in him.

Then, without another word, Yunho lets go of your face and takes a step back, keeping that small smile before heading out the room.

There was no glance over his shoulder—just straight out the room.

You stood there for a moment.

Frozen.

“What the fuck just happened?” You whispered to yourself. Your breathing calmed, everything steadied. How did he do that so easily?

When you finally were able to move, your body moved on autopilot. You reached for the door, pulling it open—cool air from the club spilled in, brushing your exposed skin. Your eyes searched for him—why? You don’t fucking know why.

But when you did—

Across the club, already halfway to another private room. Two girls happily pull him inside as he gives them a smirk, one of them stopping to whisper into his ear as he wraps his arm around her waist for support.

But then—

He looks back at you. A quick tilt of his head, barely noticeable.

Your stomach drops. You weren’t sure what that look meant, but you can’t deny what you felt from it.

Soon enough he disappears as the door closes. You stood there, still gripping the knob of the door. Slowly you stepped back into the room and shut the door, turning to leaning on it.

Your eyes then dropped to the money on the counter. Your jaw tightened. You didn’t move. Just stared at it. You didn’t want anything from him but—

You sighed as you pushed yourself off the door. As you approached the money, your hand hesitatingly grabbed them.

You hated yourself for a second.

But this was the only choice you had.

—

It was a new night.

The lights were blinding, bass pulsed through your body, crowd was loud—

One thing that stood out from everything was how you felt before you saw him. The way everything faded the moment your eyes locked on him.

Yunho.

In the VIP section again. Legs spread out, shoulders relaxed, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily cradling a drink he hadn’t touched.

Watching you on stage.

Your body moved on muscle memory. You knew this set like the back of your hands—hands know where to go, how your hips should sway.

But tonight, everything felt… different.

Something along the lines of intimate.

Your eyes flickered in his direction when they were suppose to stay closed, hips rolling a second longer, fingers sliding across your skin a little too slow—

Hey, what are you doing?

Stop it.

You know better. You know better than to give him a show.

But you did.

Somehow, you always did.

He could feel every thought passing through your head, every skip in your breath—it’s like he can read you.

And then— he smiled.

The faintest pull on his lips. Like he owned the way your body shifted in movements.

Your breath hitched, turning your eyes back to the crowd as you ached your back against the pole. Fuck. Get your shit together. You think to yourself as you collect yourself.

The music pounded as bills flew off of hands—loud cheers but you didn’t register it.

Because one name cuts through your mind like a knife; Jae.

Your chest tightened. Suddenly the air didn’t feel electric—it felt dangerous. Your movements snapped back to routine.

You finished the set.

But as you slid off the stage and stepped behind the curtain, heart pounding and knees weak, all you could think was that he saw it. He saw the way you messed up when you looked at him. Even deep in thought as you were up there.

You just wanted to go home.

But—

You just wanted to know why the fuck you were heading towards Yunho.

What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?

You kept telling yourself to stop.

You told yourself to keep that distance.

And yet–

One step.

Two steps.

One after another. The sounds of your heels against the floor felt louder than the music.

He was still there, seated. Relaxed. Confident. Watching the next performance.

Always watching.

You hate the way your stomach flipped inside at the sight of him. You hated the way your body reacted towards him.

Why were you going to him? You don’t owe him anything. You don’t talk to him. You don’t trust him. You can’t.

You should just stop and turn around, forget this even happened.

Five more steps.

His eyes lifted and locked onto yours. Your breath stuttered. You were close now—no turning back.

Your mouth parted to say something—maybe a greet? Come up with a half assed minuscule complaint that you can just deal with on your own?

You had no clue.

But suddenly— Jae’s voice echoed in your head. “Don’t get any fucking ideas.”

And for once, you agreed with the possessive, power-drunk asshole.

You were not going to get any ideas, even if your body betrayed you.

Your throat closed around the words you didn’t even know what you were going to say.

You clenched your jaw, swallowed the lump in your throat and just turned around.

You didn’t even look back.

Yunho leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gnawed on his lower lip, curious as to what you were going to do as he watched you disappear behind the curtain.

—

It was later at night and the crowd had thinned out, lights were dimmed—and you were exhausted.

You saw in the farthest booth—away from the noise, away from stares, away from him. You did check your surroundings and didn’t spot him anywhere. You sat down with a sigh of relief as you counted the stack of bills resting in your lap.

On autopilot. Barely present.

Your fingers moved, but your mind was miles away. You wonder if he left already or is in a private dance with some girls—not that you care.

Just focus on you and everything will be okay.

You were halfway through rolling a band around a few bills when a shadow stopped at your table. You looked up and saw it was one of the new girls, standing in front of you with a cold bottle of water.

You tilted your head, “Oh?” You were confused as you reached out and grabbed it from your hands. “…Thank you?” You gave her a small smile.

“You’re welcome!” She said brightly with a little smile. “You… didn’t ask for one, right?”

You shook your head slowly, confused. “No. I didn’t.”

She grinned like she knew something you didn’t. “I know.” She beamed. “Someone wanted me to give it to you.”

Your heart skipped, taken aback. “Who?”

But she just winked and turned, heels clicking as she walked away without another word. Your eyes flicked to the bottle and then you saw it—

A napkin—

Folded neatly beneath the water, pressed flat under the condensation. You peeled it free with careful fingers.

For your hard work tonight. —J

Your throat tightened as your eyes slightly widened. Your head shot up as you scanned the room with too much urgency.

And you spotted him—

Outside of Jae’s office on the third floor—half in the shadow. He raised his glass to you. A silent acknowledgement.

You looked back down at the note, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered from his gesture.

But you couldn’t ignore the fact that he saw you for you. Not as a toy or machine or dancer… but you.

And in all honesty—you didn’t mean to keep it.

Seriously, you didn’t.

It was just a napkin.

So how did it end up in your purse?

You were sitting in your vanity, fully dressed in your sweats to go home, taking off the makeup before you left. Once you were done, you reached into your purse for your keys but felt something soft, causing you to take it out with furrowed eyebrows.

It’s crumpled a little now from being cooped up in your purse. You looked around and saw that you were alone in the room then read the simple words again.

For your hard work tonight. —J

You stared at it like it had something more to say.

But it was just a note.

He treats all the girls like this, maybe even more.

But your fingers fold it gently—delicately—like something fragile. Like something worth keeping. You then tucked it back in your purse.

You reached over to turn off the light on your vanity but before you did that, you stared at your own reflection, whispering. “Get a grip.”

With that you turned it off and headed on home.

Where you reread that note on the napkin a few times before drifting to sleep—napkin on your chest.

—

You were on bar duty that night.

The bottles clinked as you restocked the top shelf, lips pursed in quiet annoyance as you felt a cramp forming in your shoulder from extending your arm too far.

You stretched your neck to the side as you rolled your shoulder backwards to quickly release the pressure. Besides the pain in your shoulder—tonight was a good night.

First things first, no heels.

Secondly, no drunk men harassing you or any of the usual chaos.

But most importantly—No Yunho.

It was just your and your space with the low hum of the steady music and peace.

But you spoke too soon.

“Hey,” One of the girls called out as she leaned over the counter, adjusting her top in the mirror behind the bar as she chewed her gum, “you got a booking.”

You blinked.

Like hell you do.

“I’m not on rotation.” You didn’t bother to look up—just kept polishing the glass in your hand.

She smirked, “Yeah, well, now you are.”

You placed the cup down, her smirk quickly dropping as you looked at her. “Who is it?” You asked.

She blinked innocently—too innocent. She shrugged, “Didn’t say.”

Bullshit.

You can see the lie in your eyes.

But just as you were going to confront her, another dancer strolled in, heels dangling from her fingers like dead weight.

She tossed them on the bar as she sat on the stool, leaned her elbows against the counter and grinned at you.

“Whoever it is, paid in cash.” She paused, looking around and then leaned in closer to you causing the other girl to lean in as well to hear her. “They also tipped enough to cover someone’s rent for two days.”

The other girl gasped as she popped her bubblegum. “What?!” She exclaimed as the other one just nodded at her words. “Bitch, you’re so lucky.”

You gave them a deadpan look.

Lucky is something you are far from.

You scoffed as you rolled your eyes, wiping down the counter. “Well, whoever it is—“ you paused as you narrowed your eyes at them, “I’m not doing it.”

The girls exchanged a look before bursting out into laughter—loud and unapologetic. “You say that like you have a choice.” The barefoot one said as she got off the stool and winked at you as she scooped up her heels.

They both walked away, not bothering to hear a response from you.

You stare at the hallway then at the bar top. Let’s just get this over with.

—

You should’ve fucking known.

There he was.

Yunho.

Sitting in the center chair like it was and for him—legs spread, arms draped over the sides, head tilted slightly like he’d already been waiting for hours, but he didn’t care. He would wait for you.

His gaze dragged up your body, slow and heavy. “Thought you weren't going to come.” His voice was low.

You raised an eyebrow, taking small steps to him, “I didn’t realize I was expected.” You replied in a neutral tone—but you could hear the tightness in it.

Yunho smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

You hesitated—just a flicker—and his eyes caught it.

Why does he have to say it like that? Why does he say things like this to you? Why does it affect you so much?

You turned your back to him as you untied the robe, letting it drop to the floor. You could feel his stare on you as goosebumps arose on your skin.

You stepped into the center of the room, “Then I hope…” you paused as you finally looked at him face to face, “I don’t disappoint you.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak, just watched. There was no way to describe the emotions Yunho was going through as you looked him in the eyes.

You walked until you stood between his legs, lifting your hand up at him.

His gaze flickered to it, a brow lifting in amusement but he didn’t move.

He sat there, motionless.

He knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to make you suffer just a little.

Was he going to accept it or not?

But then—

He reached out.

Sliding his large and warm hand into yours, fingers curling up. The contact sent heat spiraling up your arm. You gave him a soft smile—controlled and measured—gently tugging him up.

He smirked as he rose up, letting you lead him. His gaze never left yours as you guided him to the center of the room.

The look behind his eyes—it was something unreadable. It burned slowly, deep, and dangerous. You don’t know why his eyes felt different, compared to Jae. Compared to the many men you have met.

When you reached the spot, you stopped. His chest is a few inches from yours. Your hands slide up his suit jacket, over his firm chest. You then slide them down—until they paused just above his belt.

You look up at him, eyes twinkling. Your arms reach over his shoulders as you hover over his mouth, “I want you to get on your knees.” You whispered. “Mr. Jeong.”

A beat of silence.

You waited for rejection. For the challenge. For the smirk that always meant game over.

But what came instead—

Was surrender.

A slow shake of his head, that smile curling at the edges almost as if saying you have no idea what you’re doing.

Then—

He stepped back twice, still looking at you, and he dropped to his knees. You smiled down at him as you took out pretty pink handcuffs from your back pocket as it dangled on your finger, “Hands behind your back.” You lightly teased.

He didn’t hesitate or asked why. His hands slid behind him, interlacing at the small of his back as you began to slowly circle.

Your fingers traced across his broad shoulders—light, deliberate—like you were trying to memorize him through touch alone.

He stayed still. Relaxed.

Waiting.

You crouched behind him, your body close but not touching—hovering. Your lips close enough behind his neck as your breath fanned on it.

One hand reaches forward, slipping around the front of his neck, finger played across his throat. The other slid up to jaw, gripping just enough to make his lips part.

In the mirror across the room, you saw his reflection—on his knees, chest slightly heaving as he waited desperately for your next move while you were in control of this moment.

You leaned in, your breath a whisper against the shell of his ear. “Why are you so quiet, Mr. Jeong?”

He didn’t answer.

But the shiver that ran down his spine told you everything.

You smiled and pressed your thumb under his jaw, gently tilting his head back. “Always looking at me with loud eyes,” you murmured, “yet your mouth has gone quiet.”

You scoffed a quiet smirk against his cheek. You then reached down and with a soft click, you fastened the cuffs around his wrists.

“Or is this what shuts you up?” Your voice dropped to something darker—dangerous. “A woman touching you like this? Someone who you can’t control?”

And for a second—just a second, he didn’t breathe.

Then he chuckled.

Low and deep.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” he said, voice sounding strained but steady. “You think me being quiet means surrender.” His gaze lifted to the mirror, looking into your eyes, “But it doesn’t.”

His lips parted in a slow, wicked smirk. “It just means that I’m watching you.”

You could feel your heart drop.

You let out a silent chuckle.

You then stand up and circle back around to face him. You then raised your foot to his chest and pushed him back, his breath hitching at the impact to the floor.

“Still watching?” You asked him as you tilted your head to the side, smirking.

His eyes just went feral.

He couldn’t speak—you left him speechless.

You, too, couldn't believe what you have done as you felt your hand tremble slightly—

What the hell just came over you?

You dragged your foot off his chest and stepped over him. You sat down and straddled him—knees sinking to the cold floor on either side of him.

You lowered your hips just enough to brush his thighs—hard and straining with tension. You instantly felt his body tense under yours as he bit his lower lip—trying to keep his composure.

You started to roll your hips, slow and sensual. This wasn’t for pleasure—this was for control. You wanted to watch him fall apart.

But your mind was screaming at you. You better stop before things get worse. His back arched at the touch of you as he inhaled and exhaled sharply, trying to not break.

So you leaned in, grabbing his face gently to face you. “You think I mistake your silence for surrender?” Your voice was dangerously low. “You think that being quiet means power?”

You rolled your hips—slow and deep, letting out a small laugh as he twitched under you. “It just means you’re trying not to beg.”

Your hands slid up his chest, planting them there as your body rolled with a precision that was lethal. “Quiet men are always the loudest when they come apart.”

You dragged out every movement like punishment, “Let’s see how long you last.”

And just like that—

His groan cracked in the air, thick and broken as he threw his head back. “Fuck.” He whispered as his chest heaved, eyes shut tightly, body tensing.

Fuck, indeed.

The way he looked under you looked so ravishing that you barely caught the moan that slipped out your mouth.

Shit. You swallowed down the rest that wanted to come out down and leaned in, your lips brushing his throat. “You look better like this.” Your voice murmured like velvet. “On your knees. In cuffs. Beneath me.”

“Much better than the other night.”

You felt it when the words hit him.

He knows exactly what night you’re talking about. The night he left you in that confused state with his kind act, where he looked back at you and nodded as he was being dragged into the room by the two girls.

The night you told yourself you didn’t give a fuck.

“What a shame,” You kissed the corner of his lips, then whispered in his ear. “You don’t look nearly as desperate as them.”

Fuck, the way his body reacted.

A low grunt caught in his throat as he tilted his head up slightly to look at you—he felt like he heard something he wasn’t supposed to.

Was this… jealousy?

But you masked it with a smirk, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. You reached into your bra and pulled out a key—dangling it off one finger.

“Someone should help you finish.” Your voice was laced with a playful tone but your jaw was a little too tense. You hovered over his lips, “I’m sure one of your girls would be happy to.”

You then flicked the key off to the side and got off of him, heading to the door. He sits up slowly and glares at your figure, eyebrows furrowed—you struck a nerve. “Y/N, wait—“ he paused as he panted.

His eyes were burning with anger.

He doesn’t fucking want them.

He wants you.

Just before your fingers touched the handle, you paused. You turned around with a half smirk, “Thank you,” you said, “for your hard work… Mr. J.”

You didn’t wait for a reaction.

You walked out the door not bothering to look back at him. You didn’t slam the door, didn’t storm out—just remained calmed.

Your eyes spotted one of his girls leaned against the wall—looking at the crowd. When she spotted you, she stood up straight, “He is waiting for you. Go.” You didn’t say it rudely, you said it like a command.

She blinked in surprise. “O-Oh. Okay.” She nodded as slipped past you, her heels clicking on the floor as she made her way to the room.

And as she opened the door—

There he was under dimly red lights in the room, still kneeling—still cuffed. Glaring at you through the mirror. He felt wrecked, pissed—betrayed.

You didn’t flinch. You turned and walked away, “Maybe now he’ll leave me alone.”

But you didn’t even believe those words. Not one bit.

—

Tonight, you were on bar duty again and you made damn sure it was going to stay like that. You checked the board twice—three times—just in case someone wanted to change things around.

Tonight was actually a slow night—Thank god. You were mixing some liquor and syrup sweetener in the cocktail shaker, lost in thought.

You grabbed two cups and placed ice cubes in each and popped open the top of the shaker, pouring the drinks in. You then placed them on the side counter for the girls to pick them up and at the same time—

A ticket came in.

You sighed as you looked over the order. You placed the ticket down and turned to the wall of bottles, grabbing one of them to turn around—

Only to nearly scream.

Yunho.

Sitting on the other side of the bar like he’d always been there. Legs spread as his elbows rested on the counter, watching you with a smirk.

Like nothing had happened.

As if you didn't cuff him and humiliate him with another girl walking in on him like that the other night.

Your breath caught, a soft yelp slipping out. You straightened fast, placing a hand over your chest as you slammed the bottle onto the counter—harder than you meant to.

“Jesus—” You hissed out. “What are you doing? You can’t just sneak up on people like that.” You tell him as you get back to work.

He waited a moment.

Just tilted his head a bit and smiled at you. “Why?” He asked.

“Did she take the cuffs off too soon?” He teased in a low voice.

Your body stilled.

Glass in hand as your lips parted but nothing came out. Your grip on the bottle tightened—but you kept your face expressionless.

You then looked him dead in the eye and just dropped everything you were doing and walked away. You headed to the storage room, telling yourself to grab some random bottles to “stock up” but really, it’s just to get away from him.

You opened the door and walked to the wall of bottles, you went for the highest shelf but couldn’t reach it. Soon the air shifted as you saw his hand reaching out and grabbing it for you.

You turned around, fast, and stumbled back a bit, not realizing he was very close to you. He hands you the bottle and tilts his head, “Why do you keep walking away from me?”

You tilted your head to the side and gave him a deadpan look, “If it was obvious, I’m working.” You gestured to the bottles behind you and in your hand.

He steps a little closer. “So was I.” His voice was low, “But you know that’s not what I meant.”

Your breath caught at your throat.

You just shook your head, “I’m not doing this.” You said in a whisper as you left the room but he was hot on your steps.

“You keep walking away, but I know you don’t want to.” He tells you as you two walk down the private hallway. “I know you feel what I feel too.”

You stopped in your steps and sigh, turning around to face him. “What makes you think that you know what I want?” You got closer to him, “What I feel?”

He got serious as he closed the gap between you two. “Because I know how you sound when you do.” He lifts a hand and cups your face, “The way you react when we touch.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

You closed your eyes at the warmth of his hands, letting out a soft sigh. No, no, no—

This can’t be happening.

You removed his hand and backed up.

There was a silent moment.

Your eyes snapped at him. “What do you want from me, Yunho?” Your voice was a whisper, feeling like it nearly trembled.

“You look at me in a way I can’t explain.” You said. “You show up one moment and the next you’re gone. You do things to me and it makes me feel like something is there.” You gestured between the both of you.

You shake your head. “No matter how much I tell myself what we have is just transactional—just a fantasy… I almost start to believe the feeling. Which is the worst part.”

You don’t know why you’re getting teary. You bring the back of your hand to your mouth as you clear your throat, feeling like you’re going to collapse. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me yet why am I getting like this?”

You let out a scoff as you shake your head. You really can’t believe you are actually confessing to him.

“But then you know what you do? You run back to your girls. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.” You spat at him. “Like none of this matters.”

He flexed his jaw. “Is that what you think?” His voice was quiet—dangerously low. “You think none of this matters to me? You think this is about them?”

You let out a disbelief laugh, “Are you serious?” You asked him, sarcastically. “No, really, are you being serious? Because I don’t think I have ever met anyone so stupid before.”

“You say these things to me, you are always asking for me—you think— you think I don’t know you were asking for my name that same night?” You dropped the bomb on him causing his eyes to widen.

“You give me money for myself. You call Jae out on his bullshit whenever I’m around, trying to subliminally talk to me—trying to reassure me that you see me for me.”

“Let me explain myself—“

“Explain what? How you tell me things to make me believe that you are different from others and then turn around fuck whomever you want leading me to think you actually are the same as everyone else—?”

“That’s not what it is—“

“Then what is it?” Your breath hitched, chest rising with everything you were trying to bury. “Am I just a game to you? A power trip?” You asked him.

“No—“

“You don’t want me, Yunho. You just want control.”

His eyes flickered between yours, brow twitching.

But you weren’t done.

“You want me quiet. Obedient. All yours—just like Jae.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?” You asked sarcastically. “Because judging from where I’m standing, you’re just like him.”

And that landed like a slap to the face.

“Don’t ever compare me to that piece of shit.” His voice was low but filled with rage.

He was fucking hurt.

You froze, swallowing that lump in your throat. “Then why are you working with him?” You said. “If you hate him so much—if you’re not like him—then what the fuck does that make you?”

He just looked down, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your voice cracked. “You knew what he was. You knew exactly who he is—“ You slightly raised your voice, “And yet, you still chose to sit next to him. Become partners. Protect him. So let me ask you—“

You glared at him. “If you’re not like him… Why are you helping him keep me in a cage?”

Now, it was his turn to talk.

He steps closer, his dark eyes locked on you. “You want to know why I partnered up with him?” His voice was laced with something darker.

“Because someone like him is better as a partner instead of an enemy.”

Honest. Brutal.

But he wasn’t finished.

“Don’t get things twisted with me. You handed him the keys to the cage.” Your stomach flipped. “You let him break you. Piece by fucking piece—until there was nothing left but obedience.”

You looked to the side, not being able to stare at him anymore as tears were stinging your eyes. But he kept going. “You blindly gave yourself away… and stayed.”

“And those girls?” He let out a bitter scoff, eyes burning into yours. “I never once fucked them. They were all background noise. Distractions. Faces I don’t remember. Touches that meant absolutely nothing.” His voice cracked—just slightly.

“Empty. Fucking empty. They didn’t mean shit to me.” He tells you as he looks between your eyes.

You felt angry tears streaming down your face as you glared at him. “And what you saw was an act for the cameras.” He says. “To make Jae believe the girls are doing their part. I would never, ever make you think otherwise of my words. I would never disrespect you like that. Because what I feel for you is real.”

“So,” he said, “don’t you compare me to that man that you chose.”

Silence.

You looked back at him with tears streaming down your face. Behind that fury in his face—regret already forming but it was too late.

You cleared your throat, feeling like your voice was going to tremble when you spoke.

“I really—ahem—“ your voice did crack, you sniffed as you stared into his eyes. “I really thought you were different.”

His expression cracked—barely—but enough. His harsh words are repeating in your head. “But, I guess I was blind. Once again.”

You sniffed once more, biting your lower lip. “Fuck you, Yunho.”

You quickly run out the hallway and through the back of the club, pushing open the exit door as the air of the night hits your face.

You placed your hand out to the wall for support as you walked towards the edge of the club—feeling like you’re going to just fall. You then leaned against the wall, placing your hand over your mouth and just broke down.

Quiet sobs that shook your shoulders as your other hand clutched your ribs like you could hold yourself together as you slid down the wall.

Inside—

Yunho just stood there.

Replying the way you ran away from him—your words still sting him.

Just then—

“Yunho~” One of his girls cooed when the both of them turned into the hallway. “There you are. Are you coming to the VIP section?” She asked as she grabbed his arm.

The other girl caressed his arm, giggling. “Yeah, we miss you.”

Yunho was just zoned out, looking at the floor. He then shakes the girls off and walks between them—they stumbled slightly back. “Leave me alone.” His jaw clenched.

They gasped and blinked in confusion as they watched him walk away. But just before they could say anything—

He turned the corner.

He just walked up to the office and slammed the door shut, shoving everything off the desk as everything hits the floor. He stands over it with his chest heaving as he looked at the empty table.

He slams his fist on it and then leans on it, feeling like he, too was about to break down.

"Fuck." He whispered in defeat.

To be Continued.

969 notes · View notes

mattsundaes · 2 months ago

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“i really don’t get how you’re not dating him yet.”

your best friend’s words linger insistently in the back of your mind as you glance over at kuroo from the passenger seat of his car. they slip down your throat, fluttering hard in your chest when his eyes flick to yours as he slows to a stop at a red light.

the clock on the dash reads 4:38 AM.

some song on some playlist that you made on his phone plays through the speakers.

green washes over his face, and he crooks a smile at you before turning his attention back to the road. tucking your chin into your shoulder and turning to look out the window, a fresh wave of something flutters behind your ribcage as you incidentally inhale kuroo’s familiar scent.

your fingers pinch the edge of one of his hoodie strings. he’d immediately shrugged it off when he picked you up at the airport, trading you the worn material for the two suitcases sitting on the sidewalk beside you as he popped his trunk.

it’s unusually cold for an early june evening.

and you’re not dating kuroo because he’s your roommate.

because he’s one of your closest friends.

because you have a boyfriend.

—a boyfriend who made a face over video chat when you hesitantly asked him if he’d be willing to pick you up from your flight that had been bumped to a red eye last minute. who rattled off some convoluted excuse about work and being tired and not having gas in his car before shifting his attention back to the video game he was playing.

and yet here kuroo is, looking soft and rumpled and tired behind the wheel as he drags a hand through his hair before his finger twists the volume knob up.

(on a song that you love.)

(your boyfriend always skips this one.)

here kuroo is when you know he’s got to be at the office by 9 AM, completely unbothered by the two-hour round trip from the airport back to your shared apartment.

here kuroo is, showing up for you like he always does.

showing up without being asked.

(he’d texted you shortly before your flight left to ask when you’d be landing, if you were just going to crash at your boyfriend’s after he picked you up.)

(“you’re not taking an uber by yourself in the middle of the night,” were the first words out of his mouth when you answered his call after texting back that your boyfriend wasn’t getting you.)

it’s funny, the way kuroo’s actions seem to unintentionally peel back the shoddy wallpaper that’s been plastered over the seams of your relationship for years. the way you see cracks now in places you’d once thought whole, emptiness in corners that seemed full by illusion alone.

“there’s a cool lookout to watch the sunrise just off of that exit,” kuroo interrupts your thoughts, gesturing toward a reflective sign indicating the upcoming turn off.

“aren’t you tired?”

kuroo’s palm slides over the steering wheel as he taps his turn signal, fingers drumming thoughtfully against the gear shift knob. “good coffee spot nearby, too.”

you tilt your head. “don’t you have to work today?”

he smiles at you, and your heart drifts on a gentle, warm current when he winks and says, “already called in sick.”

kuroo’s never uttered those three words all of your friends have said time and time again—you deserve better.

(he’s never said them because he doesn’t need to.)

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #rambling: t. kuroo #dee writes #roommate!kuroo

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jungkoode · 28 days ago

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ALTARS IN SHALLOW WATERS | 05

➔ PAIRING: Taehyung x Y/N (ballerina x stalker AU)

➔ MOODBOARD

➔ RATING: Mature, 18+, explicit themes and content.

➔ DATE POSTED: June 18, 2025.

➔ SUMMARY: Altars crumble faster in shallow water. But he still knelt like it was sacred. No one ever warned you that worship could look like love. Or that love could look like drowning.

➔ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, ballerina!Y/N, stalker!taehyung, obsessive devotion, psychological tension, fixation, worship dynamics, Paris setting, religious imagery, voyeurism, sacred/profane dichotomy, slow burn, touch starvation, ritualistic behavior, gradual corruption, power dynamics, mirror imagery, water symbolism, sensory details, clean/unclean fixation, contamination OCD, professional dancer, self-destructive patterns, compulsive behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessive tendencies, praise addiction, spiritual yearning, toxic attraction, dangerous adoration, self-loathing, body discipline, mental health issues, self-harm, mental deterioration, unresolved sexual tension (for now).

➔ CONTENT in this chapter: ritualistic behavior with stolen ribbon, escalating obsession, voyeuristic elements at reader's apartment, sexual tension and arousal, religious/profane imagery, compulsive counting, mental deterioration, stalking behavior, trespassing, contamination obsession, self-flagellation themes, discovery of reader's address.

➔ AUTHOR'S INTRO AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

➔ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 4,7k

➔ A/N: WOAH. OKAY. So here’s where it starts getting twisted—like actually, visibly, irreversibly twisted. I know a lot of you were waiting for this shift and yeah. Yeah. We’re here. The ribbon. That ribbon. Taehyung is not okay about it (shock and awe, I know), and spoiler: he’s going to get worse. Much worse. (See you in ASW 6, you unhinged creatures.) After Chapter 4, I answered some asks clarifying that ASW!Taehyung is not Joe Goldberg from You. They are not in the same moral orbit, not even in the same psychological universe. Yes, Taehyung is a stalker. But he’s not narcissistic—he’s self-loathing. And that’s the core of this fic’s emotional architecture: the dichotomy between someone who sees themselves as filth, and someone who has been told she must be perfect at all times or else she ceases to exist. You (reader) are not idolized because you’re believed to be chosen, you’re held to impossible standards you’ve internalized as worth. Meanwhile, Taehyung is clinging to the only clean thing he’s ever known—you—and punishing himself for even looking. This isn’t romanticization. This is exploration: of obsession, of shame, of how mental illness contorts perception into scripture. That ribbon has become his holy relic, his proof of closeness, of desecration. He knows it’s wrong. He feels sick about it. He repeats profane like a prayer because he still has a conscience, but it’s being eroded by compulsion, not delusion. The moment he sees the number 307—ending in seven—his brain needs it to mean something. That’s how OCD roots itself. Not in logic, but in craving: for patterns, for signs, for tethering a chaotic world to meaning. The ribbon is a tourniquet, the watch a mask. The burgundy leotard scene was one of the hardest things I’ve written emotionally because it demanded I plunge into the mind of a man who is drowning in his own hunger—for cleanliness, for beauty, for her—and who knows, deep down, that he’s already crossed the line. The language is meant to reflect that too: sweet metaphors wrapped around rot. Cloying, saccharine descriptions that melt into grime. Because she is soft, sweet, sugar—and he is rust, mold, contamination. This is about the slow corrosion of restraint into justification. The moment at the end—“he will never be absolved. he never wants to be.”—that is the death of devotion and the birth of possession. The horror of obsession isn’t ignorance—it’s awareness, and the inability to stop. And now we’ve crossed the Rubicon. Stay sick. Love y’all. <3

➔ SERIES : PREVIOUS | NEXT

PLAYLIST

(ribbon, ribbon, ribbon)

The ribbon. Blue ribbon. Navy ribbon.

It doesn't belong in this room.

Not draped across the mattress, not clutched in his raw, trembling hand, not wound around the pale underside of his wrist like a ligature or a secret.

The blue is too deliberate against his skin—navy satin in a world where nothing soft survives, a strip of color that catches the yellow light and refuses to become invisible, even when he tries to hide it under the fraying elastic of his watchband.

Taehyung knows it's wrong to have it.

No—worse than wrong.

He doesn't remember picking it up (lie) but he remembers the press of your thumb as you stripped it from your warmers, the way it fell—lazy, perfect spiral—onto the wooden floor.

You left it behind.

The ribbon is an afterthought, a thing without value. Discarded, like the crusts of bread he's swept under his mother's table, like the #41 bus tickets still creased and yellowing in his coat pocket, like the things that never count for anything in the brief accounting of a day.

It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't feel like proof.

(but it does it matters it burns)

He tells himself the same things he always does: you never looked at him, you never meant for anyone to see it. Picking it up was reflex. Cleaning the floor, as always. Maintenance. Sanitation. Salvage. You drop, he retrieve. World as it's always been. Filth and order.

But his hands know better.

His hands, red with nerves and compulsive effort, can't let this particular piece of refuse go.

Ribbons don't last here—nylon fibers fray, stains settle in—yet in his palm it's as soft as wet hair between his fingers, as alien as forgiveness.

He's sitting on the edge of his bed, knees pressed together, back humped, the same way he used to shrink into himself after his father's bad days. The covers are thin, yellowed at the edges.

He stains everything he touches; there's no point pretending otherwise.

The room smells of bleach and must.

Damp wool, tired lungs.

The window is shut against the rain, but he can feel the temperature buffering up in little shudders along the glass.

Fifteen minutes until work. Thirty-seven minutes until the room with the glass, the one that nerves him up so sharp that his wrists pulse with heat, anticipation, dread.

He tracks the minutes because they're easier, cleaner, than tracking want. Minutes break into sevens, sevens stack into hours, and hours mark the gaps between the rare moments he feels chosen, if only by accident, if only as a collector of things nobody else wants.

And now this. The ribbon.

He ties it slowly, methodically, looping once, twice, three times around his left wrist, then again the other way, tugging until the ends lay flush, trembling in the airless light.

The knot is careful. The knot is essential. The knot means it will not fall, even if the rest of him does.

He threads the battered black watch over it, buckle scraping the bones of his wrist. It presses the satin into his skin, hiding the color from the world.

Only he knows it's there. Only he feels the drag—tight, secret—when he turns his hand over, feeling the pulse flutter beneath flesh and new devotion.

Why the watch?

He never wore one before. Used his phone, the clock on the register at work, the screech of the metro beneath the floorboards, marking time by sound, not weight.

Watches collect bacteria—he can recite the numbers, the studies, each one a slab of proof about the dangers of contamination trapped beneath plastic and steel.

But now: watch as imperative. Watch as excuse. Nobody asks about a watch. Nobody asks what he hides beneath it.

Nobody asks about the way the blue edge peeks out sometimes, how he fidgets with the hard disc on his arm whenever he feels eyes on him, real or imagined.

How he feels safest when the ribbon is tightest, marking the skin in a faint seam that echoes all the other places he's tried, and failed, to excise dirt and memory and want.

It's not enough, having it. Not really.

When was the last time anyone chose him for anything but labor or blame?

His stomach pitches, hollow with disgust, that familiar lurch like swallowing a chunk of rotten apple.

Profane, profane, profane—wanting to belong, wanting to matter, wanting to be held in the same equation as someone like you.

He shouldn't want that.

There's something shameful about even imagining it: your attention landing where it shouldn't, on someone who was never meant to be witnessed.

He tastes bitterness, mouth dry, tongue heavy.

He presses the watchband down, hard, until the buckle pinches. There, that's punishment. There, that's the line between suffering and sin.

The blue edge disappears under the watch—a secret now—and the throbbing at his wrist feels halfway to honesty.

He checks the time again.

Five minutes gone, spent thinking of you, of the ribbon, of the terrible possibility that one day you might notice what's hidden.

That moment—almost as sharp as terror—sends a flicker of hope up his throat so fast he wants to gag.

To be seen is to be ruined, to be named, to be known as the thief of things you've discarded.

But maybe to be seen is to be chosen, too.

The air in the room puffs up like clouds clogging the sky.

He bends forward, elbows on knees, face in hands, breathing through the panic tight in his chest.

The pressure soothes, a little. His eyes press shut.

The afterimage of your dance flickers beneath his eyelids—the turn, the fall, the blue ribbon spiraling to the floor like a dropped line from shore to deep water.

Maybe you choose things for a reason.

Maybe toys get discarded because they're broken, but even broken things have stories.

Maybe this is his—blue satin, hidden under plastic, marking time by your indifference, his devotion.

Thirty-one minutes until the room with the window. Nine until he has to walk beneath the flickering signs to the store where the world will forget he exists.

The ribbon tightens again at his pulse: reminder, tether, confession.

He doesn't know if he's ready to be chosen.

But he knows, at last, what it feels like to hold proof of having been wanted—if only once, if only by accident, if only by you.

Burgundy burns through the glass like a wound.

The color sits wrong on his retinas, darker than the navy that came before, deeper than anything he's prepared for.

Burgundy—not red, never just red, because red is too simple a word for what wraps around your torso like a second skin, for what pulls taut across your sternum when you extend into another sequence.

(burgundy burgundy burgundy)

His mouth fills with copper. Like he's bitten through his tongue again, though his teeth stay clamped shut.

The ribbon at his wrist pulses—navy against burgundy, yesterday against today, what you discarded against what you chose to wear.

Color was nothing before you. Gray convenience store, beige walls, black uniform.

Now each shade feels like scripture.

Navy first, the soft surrender of something you let fall.

Now burgundy, deliberate as blood.

Blood under nails. Blood in spit. Blood on thighs.

The associations stack up fast, faster than he can count them away.

His forearm itches where yesterday's scratches have scabbed over—seven parallel lines, precise as staff paper. His knees ache from last night's penance, two hours on bathroom tile until the bruises bloomed purple-black. His thighs bear their own map of restraint, crescents where fingernails dug deep enough to break the monotony of wanting.

Because it hasn't even been a week—four days? five?—since he first saw you through this window, and already his thoughts have curdled into something unmanageable.

They're worse at night.

(always worse when the lights go out when he can't count ceiling tiles when there's nothing but darkness and the memory of)

He counts your pirouettes.

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

Perfect, as always. Perfect as he is imperfect, clean as he is contaminated, holy as he is profane.

When you pause to drink water, the burgundy fabric rises and falls with your breathing. He tracks each inhale, each exhale, timing his own breath to match until his chest burns with the effort of synchronized devotion.

(macarons macarons goddamn macarons)

The craving hits him like a fist to the sternum.

Rose macarons, powdered sugar dissolving on his tongue, the ghost-taste of how you smell when you pass close enough to contaminate his air with perfection.

He doesn't know hunger—has trained himself to exist on emptiness and obligation—but lately the want gnaws at him, hollow and horrible and all-consuming.

Feed him sugar. Feed him sweetness. Feed him the phantom flavor of your skin.

(profane profane profane stop thinking about taste about skin about)

You're finishing now. He knows your timing like scripture—ninety-three minutes of practice, seven minutes of cool-down, four minutes to gather your things.

The clock above the register reads 6:47.

Time to leave.

His hands shake as he counts the till. Seven stacks of bills. Count them again. Seven. Again. The numbers blur but the ritual remains.

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

The paper feels dirty beneath his latex gloves, contaminated by every hand that's touched it, but that's nothing compared to how dirty he feels watching you, wanting you, breathing the same air you've blessed with your presence.

Marcel left early—he always does on Thursdays, something about his daughter, something about life beyond this purgatory of fluorescent lights and expired goods.

Taehyung prefers the evening shifts alone.

No witnesses to his vigil.

No questions about why he stands at the back door, why he watches the narrow alley between buildings, why his breath fogs the window in careful patterns of seven.

Through the store window, he sees you emerge from the academy's side entrance.

Burgundy covered now by that oversized cardigan, but he knows what's beneath. Knows the way fabric clings to your waist, the precise angle of your collarbones, the mathematics of your beauty that he'll never solve.

(shouldn't know can't know knows anyway)

You pause at the corner, adjust your bag. The movement is economical, necessary. Everything you do is necessary. Nothing wasted, nothing excessive.

Not like him with his compulsions and his counting and his stolen ribbons hidden beneath watchbands.

6:51. Time.

He locks the register. Checks the lock. Checks again. Seven times total before his brain permits him to step away.

The store keys feel heavy in his pocket—responsibility he never wanted but can't abandon because abandoning things is what his parents did, what everyone does, what he'll never do to you even though you don't know he exists beyond the anonymous exchange of coins for cotton pads.

(pathetic pathetic pathetic)

The door lock requires another seven checks.

His reflection in the glass shows what he always sees—hollow face, unwashed hair, the uniform that never quite fits because he's the wrong shape for normal life.

How does someone like him dare to exist in the same world as your burgundy divinity?

You're already past the convenience store when he emerges.

He shouldn't watch you. Shouldn't know your pathways by heart.

But his feet know the route. Have memorized it through weeks of careful observation from the loading dock, from the alley shadows, from the safe distance of someone who understands his place in your universe.

Not following—following implies intent, implies threat, implies he has any right to share your path.

This is just... alignment. Synchronicity. The inevitable gravity of the unworthy toward the divine.

The street is damp from afternoon rain, reflecting neon in oily puddles. Beautiful. Ugly. Both.

The city can't decide what it wants to be, just like him—torn between the urge to disappear and the need to witness you existing in real time, in real space, in burgundy that makes his chest tight and his thoughts fragment into prayers he'll never voice.

One hundred meters ahead. Safe distance. Sacred distance.

The number matters—close enough to ensure your safety from the world's contamination, far enough to prevent his own corruption from reaching you.

He knows this route only to the first cross-street, where you turn left and vanish into territories he's forbidden himself from mapping.

(not yet not yet but maybe soon)

This time, however, the corner pulls him forward like thread through a needle.

He doesn't decide to follow—his feet simply continue their pilgrimage past the boundary he's drawn in his mind, past the invisible line that separates permitted observation from (wrong wrong wrong) trespass. The burgundy burns behind his eyelids even though you've vanished around the corner, even though all that's left is the echo of your footsteps on wet pavement.

(macarons in windows, macarons in dreams, macarons dissolving like communion wafers)

His body moves without permission. One block becomes two, two becomes three, and suddenly he's standing at the base of a building he's never seen before, watching you climb exterior stairs that spiral up like vertebrae.

You're going home.

(turn back turn back turn back)

But his eyes track your ascent—stairs, rusted gray, curve up to a door. Sage green, chipped and dignified, holding itself together by force of will.

And then—your door.

307.

A seven.

His palms go clammy—lucky number, holy number, not a coincidence, can't be a coincidence. The world doesn't offer signs to men like him unless it comes with warning.

But this is a warped blessing, a number flashed like prophecy: you live behind a seven, while he lives in a tangle of sevens and filth, fate and want knotted tight enough to cut circulation off at the wrist.

(walk away walk away now now now now now walkwalkawayawayWALKAWAY)

He should.

He doesn't.

Feet soft as shadow, fingers twitching, he moves.

Not the front steps. Never where someone could see. He hugs the wall, skirts the patch of mint overgrown at the foundation, finds the metal back stairs that curl behind the building. They hum with old rust, grease.

He can't tell if the churning in his chest is terror or hope.

He doesn't breathe as he mounts each tread—one, two, three, up to seven, then again, and again.

His pulse is a counting game, his hands are pillows of sweat. Everything blurs except for the balcony.

Not much of a balcony—just iron rail, shallow space, concrete dust. But it's outside your window. It's liminal, not entrance, not street: a soft diluted sin.

The curtains are parted. Not wide. Enough. Enough for a sliver of light to slip out, for a slice of the room, for him to press close and peek.

And there—you.

Blush blossom of your profile. Your back curved, arms rising, that mauve cardigan slipping from your shoulders like a cloud.

Burgundy. Burgundy everywhere.

The maillot hugs you in places his vocabulary fails to name. Across chest, between thighs, the shadowed V where the fabric vanishes between legs.

He forces himself not to swallow, not to blink, afraid to lose even half a second's vision.

He doesn't mean to watch. He doesn't mean to linger. He doesn't mean—

But he's pressed so close to the glass he's a smear, breath fogging, hand clamped over his own mouth.

His cock throbs stupidly behind zipper, blushing heat gathering at the tip like shameful cream, thick pillow ache in his groin.

He's dizzy.

He's pathetic.

He's—

You're real. You're there. You're not a statue, not divine marble, not the idea of perfection—you're pulling off your sweater and the static makes your hair fuzz at the crown.

One spaghetti strap falls, a shy red line across your shoulder. It sticks for a moment, caught on the ridge of your scapula, before sliding down with a whisper.

Your spine is a line of small freckles, a secret celestial map.

Left shoulder blade, three small speckles like chocolate dots on a macaron. Hollow of your back, a soft dimple just above the curve.

He wants to press his mouth there, roll his tongue over each freckle one by one, pillow-soft, until you're gasping clouds into the crook of his neck.

(blasphemous, blasphemous, blasphemousblasphemousblas)

The second strap drops.

You peel the maillot slowly, awkward, skin catching briefly on elastic.

He's shaking—palms, knees, eyelids, cock so hard it aches against his thigh.

The fabric skims lower, lower, revealing the narrow of your waist, the small of your back, the place where spine melts into soft round hip.

He learns you by inches. He is a student at the altar of you, face burning, breath caught, body strung tight as a pulled bow.

The burgundy bunches at your waist and for a sticky, sick moment he sees the edge of your backside, the upper swell, curves like blushing meringue; and he groans, quiet—so quiet—cock leaking, thighs pressed together hard enough to bruise.

You step out of view.

Bathroom. The door shuts.

He slumps against the iron rail, chest heaving, forehead pressed to cold glass.

Breath returns like a storm—rushed and ugly, rattling.

He almost sobs.

(shouldn't, mustn't, it's disgusting, divine, divine, divine, sickening)

Precum pools sticky in his briefs, making a mess that feels like penance, embarrassment flooding every cell.

He'd never. Can't. Won't. He doesn't.

(yes he will he will—)

No, no, no—he's frozen.

Breathes in, tastes his own hunger.

He fingers the navy ribbon tied under his watch, feels the texture, the threadbare softness pressed tight against his frantic pulse.

He mouths a silent prayer: forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, over and over, seven times.

You are gone behind the door and he (shameful, sick, twisted) imagines the rest: maillot pulled past your thighs, the part of you unseen, all the secret warmth, the little dimples at the base of your spine leading to places he's never permitted his mind to go.

He wants to melt into the floorboards. He wants to peel off his skin and dissolve into the night air. He wants to be nothing. He wants to be everything you touch, everything you throw away, everything you leave behind.

He's never felt this particular brand of hunger—raw and cotton-candy-sick, craving and revulsion at once.

Wants to be consumed by you, wants to pray to you, wants to bow his head to your ankles and ask for ruin.

He's a monster. He's a parishioner. He's a child. He's a thief.

And still the want doesn't fade.

He stands sticky and shaking, forehead pressed so hard to the glass he leaves a halo when he finally pulls away.

His legs are weak, cloud-soft. His cock is wet at the tip, every throb agony.

He doesn't dare move. Doesn't dare breathe, in case you come back.

In case he's caught in the act.

(desecration, desecration, desecration)

His lungs crackle—he's been holding air too long.

At last he inhales, ragged and shallow, and the cold slices through him, quelling the heat just enough to let him move his hands back to his sides, the navy ribbon cold and slick under his fingers.

Through the bathroom door, he hears water running. You're washing away the day, the sweat, the city's touch. Everything he's too contaminated to ever wash clean.

When you emerge, will you be wrapped in white? In nothing? Will he have the strength to look away, or will he sit here like the garden-variety pervert he's become, cataloging more pieces of you that don't belong to him?

(leave leave leave while you still can)

But the seven on your door holds him pinned like an insect to cork.

Seven. His number. Your number.

The universe's cruelest joke, making him think for one delirious second that this means something, that he means something, that a coincidence of brass could transform him from waste to worthy.

Holy number on your door. Holy sin at your window. Holy trembling in his chest.

He has trespassed. He will never be clean again.

He stumbles backward, legs jelly, his whole body flooded with sick joy-ache-ruin.

He knows, beyond a doubt, he will never be absolved.

He knows, beyond a doubt, he never wants to be.

goal: 300 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @billy-jeans23 @calmyourtitts7 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @dltyum @dailynnt @sashakittyct @bjoriis @hemmosfear @bettytta

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pinkslaystation · 1 year ago

Text

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k -> blurb - rose meets tulips

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

#call of duty #cod #john price #john price x reader #captain john price #john price angst #john price fluff #task force 141 #captain price

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glorfyndels · 3 months ago

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Tolkien Fandom Event Calendar 2025

There are lots of exciting Tolkien fandom weeks coming up this year, so inspired by @arofili's 2023 calendar, @curiouselleth's brand new Tolkien Fandom Events community as well as @tolkienfandomevents, I decided to create a masterpost for 2025.

This list is not exhaustive, and dates are subject to change by the organisers of these events! Please check the original post for the most up-to-date version.

If you know of any events not included here, please don't hesitate to send me a message or an ask. This calendar was first posted on 13 April 2025, and only events taking place after that date will be featured. Please note that I am not running any of these events myself and that I am not responsible for any prompts/submissions part of these events.

APRIL

1-30: Barduil Month @bi-widower-dads

14-20: Silmarillion Epistolary Week @silmarillionepistolary

MAY

1-31: Mayron, hosted by @polloniumwhy

5-11: Angbang Week @angbangweek

11-17: Gondolin Week @gondolinweek

12-18: Cozy Cuddles Week, hosted by @rivendellwatch

15-21: (TROP) The Underdog Edition, hosted by @the-southlands

26-1 June: Númenor Week @numenorweek

JUNE

26 May-1: Númenor Week @numenorweek

9-15: Celebrimbor Week, hosted by @the-southlands

9-21: Camp Tolkien, hosted by @inklings-challenge

10-17: Tolkien Ekphrasis Week @tolkienekphrasisweek

14-20: Boromir Week @boromir-week

16-22: Tolkien South Asian Week, hosted by @arwenindomiel

16-22: Tolkien Native Language Appreciation Fest @jrrt-native-languages-fest

16-22: Russingon Week @russingon-week

16-30: Spice Week, hosted by @rivendellwatch

JULY

1-10: Samfro Summer @samfrosummer

1-31: Disability Pride, hosted by @filiswingman

4-10: Tyelkormo & Maitimo Week @tyelkoandtimo-week

13-19: Esoteric Tolkien Week @esotolkienweek

19: Mereth Aderthad, hosted by @silmarillionwritersguild

25: LotR Musical Summertime Springle Bing, hosted by @lotrmusical

AUGUST

1-7: Nargothrond Week @nargothrond-week [uncertain]

4-10: Silvergifting Week @silvergiftingweek

8-10: The Feast of Horns @feast-of-horns

11-17: Tolkien Gen Week @tolkiengenweek

25-31: Tolkien OC Week @tolkienocweek

SEPTEMBER

1-9: Ainur Week @ainurweek

1-30: Sapphic September, hosted by @filiswingman

8-14: Sindar Week @sindarweek

22-28: LOTRweek @lotrweek

22-28: Tolkien Of Colour Week @tolkienofcolourweek

OCTOBER

6-12: Tolkien Latin American and Caribbean Week @tolkienlatamandcaribbeanweek

20-26: Celrond Week @celrondweek

26-1 Nov: Tolkien Horror Week @tolkienhorrorweek

NOVEMBER

26 Oct-1: Tolkien Horror Week @tolkienhorrorweek

2-8: Nolofinwëan Week @nolofinweanweek

10-17: Glorthelion Week @glorthelionweek

23-29: Tolkien Siblings Week @tolkiensiblingsweek

DECEMBER

1-7: Tolkien Fairytale & Folklore Week @tolkienfolkloreweek

1-31: Díscember, hosted by @filiswingman

Longer Events:

Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang @tolkienrsb, March-October

Gifts of Starlight Exchange @gifts-of-starlight-exchange, June-October

Scribbles & Drabbles @fall-for-tolkien, June-November

Innumerable Stars @innumerable-stars, August-October

Finwëan Sibling Fest @finweansiblingfest, September-November

SWG challenges @silmarillionwritersguild throughout the year

Teitho Contest @teitho, challenges throughout the year

Stage Adaptations Performance Calendar by @emeraldskulblaka

#fandom #fan projects #tolkien fandom event calendar #lord of the rings #hobbit #silmarillion

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back2bluesidex · 2 months ago

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Crawling back to you - MYG [Teaser]

Pairing: Rapper!Yoongi X Fem!Reader

Type: Drabble series.

Theme: Break up au, pining, so much angst, exes to lovers.

w.c: 300+ for the teaser.

Summary:

"It's sad to see you go Sorta hoping that you'd stay"

Alternatively:

All the time you thought Yoongi was in love with you - he was in love with his best friend.

Warning: will be mentioned.

Based on Do I Wanna Know by Hoizer

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)

A/N: 👀

Posting date: 6th June, 4:30 pm UTC

Full Chapter

Your eyes are glued to the screen of your phone, which is currently silent but mocking you at its full volume. The screen displays a picture of your boyfriend, wearing an apron, cooking at a kitchen that is neither his nor yours but his best friend’s, as the said woman clicks a selfie of just two of them.

Your boyfriend, you are unsure if he is aware of the camera doing its tricks, smiles fully, showing off his adorable gums.

How long has it been since he has smiled at you like this?

You browse through the folders of your memories and it only returns as empty.

Losing track of time, you sit inside the isolated cabin. Dishes start arriving one by one - all Yoongi’s favorites - and start getting cold right in that order, just like Yoongi’s love for you.

Your hands itch to type a text, or to press the call button and ask where he is, how can he forget he promised you time - a silver of his night, a getaway from his busy schedule.

But then again Yoongi tends to forget the entire world when it comes to Inhye - his best friend. You are no different.

It’s useless to fight, to argue - he would give you the same cold shoulders you have been receiving for the better part of your relationship.

Initially you thought this is just how Yoongi is, and it’s not wrong by any means because he treats everyone similarly.

Except for that one person - Choi Inhye.

Yoongi never shared a word about why she means so much to him, why she gets the prettiest of his smiles, the most of his eyes, and probably the deepest of his heart.

You didn’t know Yoongi could be the person - not until you saw him with Inhye.

Permanent Taglist:

@chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms @ssbb-22 @miniesjams32 @mar-lo-pap

#bts angst #yoongi angst #suga angst #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts x you #yoongi x you #suga x you #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagine #bts imagines #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts

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with-my-calamitous-love · 7 months ago

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please don’t ever become a stranger (whose laugh i could recognize anywhere)

k. bakugou x reader

moments in the year where katsuki realized he’s in love with you. happy new years ��

inspired by new years day

february 14

he’s driving you home after a date, one hand on the steering wheel, the other intertwined with yours. city lights pass through the windows in a blur, the road long enough for you to tell it’ll be a long way home.

he’s stressed, a little. you can tell by how he grips your hand, and the way he seems not totally focused on anything in particular. you still feel safe- he’s a great driver- but his inner thoughts aren’t lost on you. normally, he’s the toast of the town, and you’re right there with him. he’s aware of his reputation, and the love he gets from fans. but with fame comes the public eye, and even he isn’t immune to it.

he’s been striking out more lately. his abrasive attitude that you love isn’t always loved by everyone. his slip ups and mistakes seem to make headlines more than his achievements. its grating on him, and he hopes you don’t notice.

but you do, because thats what you do for people you love.

1. 2. 3. you squeeze his hand three times. i love you, it spells out. i’ll love you when you’re at your best and worst. no matter what.

at first, he thinks you’re just playing with his hand, crimson eyes flickering over to you and then back to the road. exactly 2 seconds later, he gets what you really mean.

1. 2. 3. 4. he grips your hand back. i love you, too. he says, without actually saying anything. i will never not love you. you’re the only person who stays for me no matter what. and for that, i love you.

unspoken words you both know to be true that night.

april 20

he doesn’t really celebrate his birthday, but his friends and colleagues always insist on it. he snarls, scoffing, finding it all pompous and unnecessary, until he sees your starry eyes planning his special day. he can’t say no to you.

he wasn’t expecting much when he unlocked the door to his apartment. he had a feeling you’d throw him a surprise party, but he didn’t think you’d gather his old classmates in his home to celebrate with him.

he’s stunned for a moment, until his lips curve into a begrudging smile. a room full of people, on his birthday, and the first person he looks for is you.

“thanks, dumbass.” he murmurs, a few drinks in while his arm finds your waist. his smile is like sunshine, though you rarely see it when its genuine. you pretend not to notice the ‘ews’ and laughs from your peers when he presses a long kiss to your cheek.

he has work tomorrow morning. he’ll definitely regret drinking as much as he did. he decides he’ll take an advil and get it over with.

he knows how much he’s loved you from the moment he entered that party. he realizes it more when you call in for him the next day, his hangover palpable, with you by his side.

“you didn’t have to do that.” he groans, but he isn’t annoyed. its a little embarrassing being taken care of, but he isn’t complaining when its with you.

“its just one day, babe.” you hum, holding his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. “you deserved the break.”

“pro-heroes don’t get breaks.” he adds.

“okay… but i missed you.” you smile a little, trying to win him over.

you already have.

june 26

katsuki is used to criminal activity. when he hears about it, he keeps a level head and a resting bitch face, ready to deal with whatever comes his way. all that rationality is thrown out the window when he hears you had been caught up in it and injured.

he runs through every medic, frantically searching for you like his life depends on it. he’s imagining every worst case scenario, heart beating out of his chest and snapping at anyone who asks whats wrong.

“katsuki!” you finally call out to him. he turns and is relieved to see you’ve only managed a broken arm. the sigh of relief that leaves his lips is a testament to how much he cares, arms wrapping around you, not giving a single fuck who sees.

“are you okay, idiot? are you hurt anywhere else?” his eyes scan you for injuries. you physically have to cup his face and bring his attention back to whats important: you’re okay. and so is he.

“i’m fine.” you almost laugh, savouring his rare moment of vulnerability. he has things to do, reporters to talk to and damage to control, but you’re the priority right now. you’re what he loves the most.

you never know how much you care until you think you’re going to lose it.

september 12

being a gruff, muscular, powerful hero, katsuki think’s he’s too strong for panic attacks. he’s also wrong.

he hopes you’re in a deep enough sleep not to notice his pacing. to him, the room is on fire, only the smoke is invisible and only he can feel the flame.

his breathing picks up, pains in his chest while the tremors set in. his heart races, nauseous and sweating while he tries to get his bearings. all of his heroes die all alone, just like he will.

“just breathe.”

he’s commanded by you, not even realizing you woke up. he feelings your touch on him, taking his hand and placing it overtop your chest. he wants to ask you when you woke up, or for how long you’ve been watching him, but he can’t seem to ground himself enough for that.

“its okay, kats.” you coo, pulling him into a hug, as if shielding him from his own anxiety. “just breathe. you’re safe here.”

he can save you from villains and threats, be your knight in shining armour, your hero. you, on the other hand, can save him from himself. and thats the moment he knows he’ll love you for as long as he breathes. even if you were to one day become a stranger to him- his heart would recognize you anywhere.

december 31st - 5 minutes to midnight

there’s glitter on the floor, polaroids tossed around lazily. kirishima’s annual new years party wouldn’t be complete without you and your boyfriend, katsuki, in attendance. people drink and blast music, reminiscing on this past year. in just 5 minutes, the world would begin again.

he could be with his friends, drunk on love, laughter, and booze. he could relish in the fame of his success and achievements. but all of that seems so small, so trivial, when he sees you out on the balcony, alone.

“idiot?” he peers out, seeing you leaning over the railing, looking out at the stars. “what’re you doing out here? everyone’s gonna start counting down.”

“hey.” you hum as he walks over to you. his arm so naturally finds its way around your waist, like it belongs there. loving you is like breathing for him.

“you know 5 years ago today, you just graduated.” you reminisce, watching his red eyes grow contemplative.

“yeah? so?” he utters, not getting your point.

“nothing, just… so many people spend new years focusing on whats ending. and thats good. i just… when i look at you, katsuki… i think of my future.”

his heart swells at that.

“damn it, idiot.” he huffs, forehead resting against yours, a dumb smile on his face. “my life has been better with you. everything has been better since you.”

you both hear the sounds of cheering, counting down to midnight. time ceases when katsuki looks at you, whole centuries passing when he holds your gaze. you melt his tough exterior and the ashes of his ambition. you become his dreams, his everything.

“10!”

“i never want you to be a stranger, ever.”

“9!”

“i wanna laugh with you for the rest of my life.”

“8!”

“i wanna hold on to every memory with you.”

“7!”

“this is so fucking corny.”

“6!”

“i know, i don’t care.”

“5!”

“i’d spend all my midnights with you.”

“4!”

“and all my new years days.”

“you hate cleaning up after parties, though.”

“i can’t hate anything when its with you. i love you, [y/n].”

“i love you too, katsuki.”

“3!”

“2!”

“1!”

january 1st

the truth is, he has always known he’s loved you. he’s never needed the reminder, like its the one sure thing in his life. for as long as he lives, he’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on new years day.

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stabbyfoxandrew · 1 month ago

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AGE GAP 👀👀👀👀👀👀

Hello anon! Here's the premise:

Kandrew are sort of the old married couple of their team. They're 30 and 31. They've been together since college, they have a house together as well as a chronically nervous borzoi. (I think her name is gonna be Sunny. As in Sunny Day. >:3)

Since they've got more money than they've got time, they decide they need a housekeeper to handle shit for them. They put an ad in the paper/ on Craigslist/ wherever and hope for the best.

Meanwhile, Neil is 19 and browsing ads. Trying to find a job to support himself after his mother's death. (I keep going back and forth on whether he's on the run or in WITSEC or what... Maybe we'll find out later...)

He comes across an ad for a housekeeper/ dog sitter that pays incredibly well and includes a room! It's the perfect set up, though he doubts he'll be able to swing it. He calls the number anyway.

Andrew answers the phone to hear a rather nervous man on the other end. (By the way, it's Kevin's phone. But Kevin's mouth is full right now. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)) Andrew talks to the guy and sets up an in-person interview with him the following day.

Neil has a stroke when Andrew walks into the coffee place he'd been told to meet him at. Andrew is like 'Damn... Nice.' and they discuss the job and all that would be expected of Neil.

Neil asks if there's a background check and Andrew leans forward to say "Should there be?"

"Um. No?" Neil says, to Andrew's amusement. He tells Neil he thinks they'll work out just fine, but his partner has the final say. (This is a lie. Kevin doesn't give a fuck who's folding his laundry as long as it's not him. Lmaooo.)

#Maid Neil Age Gap Kandreil AU #<- faints from realizing I can call Neil a maid in this lmaooooo #(ask dated june 4)#anon #answered #ask game #my writing #Maid Neil AU

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wipbigbang · 4 months ago

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WIPBB Big Bang/Reverse Bang 2025 - Schedule & FAQ

Schedule

All times are by 11:59pm PST. Convert time zones.

Big Bang/Reverse Bang Sign-ups- April 1st- May 2st Big Bang/Reverse Bang Check In #1- May 22nd - May 29th Big Bang/Reverse Bang Check In #2- June 15th - June 22nd Big Bang/Reverse Bang Snippets Due- July 1st - July 11th Big Bang Art Claims/Reverse Bang Fic Claims- July 17th - August 14th Big Bang/Reverse Bang Check In #3- July 22nd - July 29th Big Bang/Reverse Bang Check In #4- August 6th - August 13th Big Bang/Reverse Bang Rough Drafts Due- August 15th - 22nd Big Bang/Reverse Bang Posting Claims- August 23rd - September 1st Big Bang/Reverse Bang Final Drafts/Art & Fic Due- September 7th Official Big Bang/Reverse Bang Postings- September 8th - November 30th Emergency Big Bang/Reverse Bang Postings- December 1st - December 31st

FAQ

What is the WIP Big Bang?

Good question! This is a Big Bang with one goal in mind: to clean out your fanfic drafts folder. These are stories that were unfinished for whatever reason, that authors returned to and completed, and the art that goes with them!

What is the WIP Reverse Bang?

It’s similar to the regular Big Bang, except it’s for artists to finish WIP artwork (either traditional art, digital art, fanvideos, fanmixes or filk) and get a fic in exchange of at least 2000 words.

Do I need a Livejournal/Dreamwidth/AO3/etc. account to participate?

No! You don’t have to have an account on anything to participate, though you will need to have somewhere to post your finished work. Having one or more accounts will help for you to follow what is going on with the bang (we crosspost to Dreamwidth and Tumblr and heavily use our Discord server at the moment), but they are not required to participate. You can always leave comments anonymously or with an opensource ID.

How many fics/art pieces can we sign up for?

We absolutely don’t mind multiple sign-ups; I know one year someone submitted 50 fics to finish, and got at least half of them done. We just ask that when you sign up with more than one fic/art piece you give each fic/art piece a unique user ID (please do not use the same ID for all your fics/art pieces...it’s important to have different IDs for the check-ins).

Will I get emails about the bang?

We do send out some emails, mostly for fic snippets and art/fic claims and to ensure communication between authors and artists, but please do NOT rely on getting an email to remind you of due dates. We currently do not keep an updated email list of participants, so we only send individual emails as needed rather than mass emails.

However, email is the fastest way to communicate with the mods. If you have any questions or are having trouble communicating with your artist/author, please do email us! We will do our best to respond quickly.

If you need a reminder about due dates, the FAQ/Schedule is pinned on top of the Tumblr and we use the Discord (which anyone can join) to remind participants of important dates.

What do you mean by minimum word count to enter the WIP Big Bang?

This is a WIP Big Bang, therefore we ask you to have at least 500 words of your story drafted when you enter.

Can an outline count towards those first 500 words that are needed at sign up?

We have admitted work on an outline before so yes, if your outline is fleshed out enough to cover a 7,500 word+ fic, we’ll allow it.

Are multi-chapter fics allowed?

Yes, multi-chapter fics are allowed and even more so encouraged if your fic is lengthy.

What about fics that are already posted on ao3 in part? Do those qualify for the bang?

It's okay if you have posted a few chapters of your fic already (you never know when the muse deserts you, after all), we just require you to refrain from posting more until posting begins here. All we ask is that you not post any public updates to the fic until September 1st (or August 1st with the mod’s okay). We don’t want you to lose kudos and comments so don’t worry about pulling the fic down, just hold off on updates for now.

Is there a minimum word count?

7,500 words for each finished fic, but the sky's the limit, right?

I see that the fic minimum is 7500 words and that published WIPs are acceptable - but what if the WIP I’m considering is already more than 7500 words? Is the expectation to add an additional 7500 to it?

No. You can add as much or as little as you need to finish the story, though we do expect at least 1,000 or so new words if your WIP already meets the word count.

What happens if an author finishes the fic they signed up with but it’s less than 7,500 words? The intent was to go over the minimum but once they got into it the story was shorter than they thought and stretching it out would make it less good. Do they have to drop out at that point?

By all means, we want your stories to feel as natural as possible, and if it’s under 7,500 words you may have two options:

1 - Drop the fic for the main BB event, post it now, and wait to post it to our AO3 collection in February when we run our International Fanworks Day celebration of finishing fics that are less than 7,500 words when finished. There’s no art for the fic, but bragging rights are posted to the communities for a week.

2 - If there are enough fics that fit that category, we can do a special day of posting the fics, but you’ll have to forgo art for the fic. I, as a mod, would probably pick November 30th for the posting day, as it’s the last day of posting for the bang and I don’t think anyone will mind more than one fic that day. You can post bragging rights to the community and share the fic with everyone.

I have a fic I wrote a few years ago, but only the first couple chapters are posted on AO3 because I was never happy with the rest of it and knew it needed major revision. Is that something I could use for WIP Big Bang? The entire fic has been posted, but only on one platform, and it would be rewritten for AO3 and WIPBB.

I think revising a fic for posting would work, as long as you have at least 500 words done, will have 7,500 words at a minimum when it’s done, and are planning to add more to the fic. Simply rewriting what you have would be a gray area, but if you’re going to take stuff out and add new scenes, either in the old scenes place or on its own, you should be fine.

What's the etiquette around OC-centric stories? Ones that are set in a well known fandom and use several characters, but still lean a lot on original characters? Are they discouraged, or fine?

Based on my own personal experience making art for a story that had a heavy OC presence, it’s not something we discourage at all, but be forewarned when it comes to the art accompanying your fic your artist may not be able to incorporate the OCs into your art. Not everyone makes art of a hand-drawn or digitally drawn nature, so it helps if you have people for face claims ahead of art submissions, and you and your artist communicate regularly. You can also end up with art not featuring the OCs at all, just the canon characters, which is not necessarily a bad thing.

Your other options are to bring in an artist you trust with your vision of your OC or to make your own art (we do allow that, we just need to be told during the check-in before art that you’re bringing in your own artist if you go that route, or that you’re doing your own art…there will not be a need to sign up in the artist’s sign up, however), or to opt-out of art entirely. So there’s plenty of options to call on when it comes time for art.

What is the minimum requirement for the WIP Reverse Bang?

We’ll allow an outline of what you want to create or a rough sketch if you have it for digital/traditional art, and at least 15 seconds of fanvideos or filk (fic songs) recorded, or an outline and notes. Fanmixes can be partially finished with either some of the music picked or some of the art made/a combination of the above.

What do finished products for the WIP Reverse Bang look like to be considered complete?

Art must be fully drawn and at least shaded, if not fully colored. Filk and fanvideos must be at least one minute long and fully finished to the fanartist’s vision. Fanmixes must have a front and back cover and at least 8 songs picked out, and there must be an available playlist on Spotify, YouTube or for download.

Is there anything not allowed?

As long as you wrote it and you want to finish it, you're welcome to participate. RPS/RPF is fine. Incest pairings are fine. Things like that I know have been hinted at in questions asked and as long as you tag for them, we’ll allow it. Also, canon settings with mostly OCs is allowed. Original fic is allowed (though it is harder to pair an artist with). We just ask that it be tagged properly with any content warnings you would deem fit and be given the appropriate rating for the level of sex/violence there is in the fic. Just bear in mind that while original work is allowed you may not get art for it.

What are 'check-ins’?

These are a way for us to see what you've been up to and for you to make sure you're still on track. It will give you a little nudge/reminder if you need it, but they are not compulsory. Basically a form is posted that you fill out with your user ID (unique for each fic) and a checkbox to let us know you’re still participating, plus a section for any notes for the mods.

How are the check in IDs used?

They are solely for the mods organizational purposes. Each ID being for a separate story allows us to keep all the information you submit during check-ins and for snippets in one line on our spreadsheet. You don’t have to share your check in IDs with anyone else if you don’t want to.

How much progress should authors be making between each checkpoint? (Percentage-wise from our estimated total wc, I guess?)

Ideally, with each check-in, you should be at least 25% closer to finishing. The end word count for fic only really matters in that the fic needs to be at least 7,500 words when done, so it’s more your progress towards finishing that should be measured, not so much the word count.

What are the snippets requirements?

This is for the WIP Big Bang only! In order to allow the artists to make art for the story they claimed, we require you to supply three snippets from your fic, between 500 – 1500 words each. The snippets will be sent to the artist after they have claimed your story. They're to help the artist match your story for artwork the best way he or she possibly can. It’s helpful to choose scenes or parts of scenes that you feel best represent your fic, but don’t feel like they have to be perfect to be submitted. Along with the snippets, we will send your artist the basic fic info and your email, so the two of you can collaborate more if you would both like.

WIP Reverse Bang snippets is the art (at whatever level of completion you are at) uploaded to an image hosting site/YouTube/an audio steaming site and you only need to upload one piece of it. We’ll link to the site in the claiming post that you use so art will be thumbnailed/snippets of video or audio will be used. If you’re submitting a fanmix, we ask for at least the back cover graphic with the song listing.

What are the rough drafts requirements?

For the rough drafts, stories or art should be at least 80% complete. You will not have to turn them in to us, just assure us that you are at that point. Anything less is at the discretion of the mods and those authors should speak to one of the mods asap.

What is, and do I need, a beta?

A beta is basically a person who goes over your work to make sure that there are no spelling/grammatical errors and they can even be of assistance in helping you with story lines, etc. It is highly recommended that a beta looks over your work before posting. If you are having trouble finding a beta, try this post.

Where can I post my fic/art?

Stories and art can be posted to your own personal journal, Tumblr, ff-net, AO3, or wherever you like. For those of you with AO3 accounts, we will set up a collection that will go live on the day of the posting. If you don’t currently have an AO3 account but would like one, you can contact the mods for an invitation code to see if they have any available. You can also add yourself to the AO3 Invites Request queue.

What does posting look like? Do we have to post the whole thing on the day, or can we stretch it out between when posting starts and our date? I’ve had a few longfics get killed by big bangs forcing posting to happen on a given day, and would prefer to avoid that if possible.

For most fics, posting to AO3/FF.net/other places will be allowed to start in September and you can stretch it out as many posts as you want as long as the complete fic is up by your posting date (and posting dates go from September 8th to November 15th with two weeks for emergency posting and one month of non-assigned posting). However, you can send us an ask/e-mail about posting as early as August if you have an extremely long fic/something with a long posting schedule. Mostly what we want is the fic to be completely up on the website of your choice by your posting date, and I know some people don’t want to overwhelm their readers. So we want to work with writers to give them ample time to post the story up to their posting date.

Now, as for posting to the communities, you get to choose which day your link to the story and bragging rights are posted, and as I said, we have a range of dates from September 8th to November 15th with two to three stories posting a day. If for some reason you miss your posting date, you have until December 31st to post to the community, during the two weeks of emergency posting and the non-assigned posting dates. So hopefully there should be plenty of time to get a longfic up and posted to the website of your choice and our BB.

Art for WIPBB and WIPRB should be posted to YouTube/Soundcloud/Spotify/Tumblr/Dreamwidth on the day of our posting using the Bragging Rights form. If you want to embed it into an AO3 post, ou can do that as well and add it to the AO3 collection we start just around posting day.

Will the three snippets per story we have to send in be the ones we want the artist to make art for? Or can it just be random snippets and then later the artist and I can check together to see which scenes would work best for art?

Ideally, you and the artist will be communicating once you’re each sent each other’s contact information, and you’ll give your artist a chance to read all that you’ve written at that point. That’s what happens in most cases. If your fic gets picked by an artist and they don’t work with you, then the snippets you sent will be what the artwork will be based on. It’s a good idea to know that, while most of the time the artists work closely with the authors, there are a few exceptions to that.

How do I know when to post?

Posting will be tiered; you'll each get your own posting date that you and your artist will decide on together. There will probably be four fics, plus art, posting per day between September 8th and November 30th. The post with date claims will go up on August 23rd and you'll have to choose your date by September 1st.

Posting of chapters on AO3 or your own blog (or wherever you usually post) generally starts September 1st, but you can post earlier (as early as August 1st) if you let us know you have a long story. However, posting has to be finished by your chosen posting date to the comm. One of the things we're hoping to do with the posted dates is to give everybody on the comm a little bragging time in the spotlight. You know, "this story was incomplete for this long, but I finished this sucker." If you don't have time to post your bragging rights to the communities on your chosen posting date, you can queue up a post ahead of time and we can post it on the date you picked or you can email us your bragging rights and we can post by proxy for you. Either way works for us. Art will be due on the chosen posting date to the comm.

WIPBB and WIPRB post on the same timeframe, and some days we may have a Reverse Bang post among the Big Bang posts, and both art and fic should be posted the same day for both WIPBB posts and WIPRB posts to Tumblr and/or Dreamwidth with the bragging rights.

What am I posting to the Livejournal/Dreamwidth/Tumblr community if I’m posting the fic elsewhere?

You’ll be posting what we call bragging rights. It’s a small form you fill out and post to the community with a link to your fic (we’ll enable moderated posting to the Tumblr, Livejournal and Dreamwidth communities for members on August 8th). We will post a template for posting artwork and stories to the comm closer to the posting date.

Is there a minimum/maximum requirement for my art for WIPBB?

There is no strict minimum, but we do ask artists to remember that the authors are writing a minimum of 7,500 words and your artwork should reflect that. You can do anything you like, including banners, wallpapers, icons, mixes, vids, gif sets, picspams, etc. Suggested guidelines for art are 500x500px (or equivalent of smaller pieces like banner + spacers, cover + icons, etc.) for traditional art, digital art, and manips; 2 minutes for vids; 8 songs + cover art for mixes; and 6 images for gif sets and picspams. We also ask that when you are in contact with the author, you work with them to see if there is anything specific they would like (i.e. a wallpaper, book cover, etc.). The art is your work, but having ideas doesn't hurt!

What are 'art claims' and ‘fic claims’?

The claims are when anonymous summaries of the story go up for artists to choose from for WIPBB and fic writers to claim for WIPRB. Artists sign-ups and art claims are the same thing, as are fic claims for WIPRB; we use one form each for both things, and that way the artists and authors don’t have to sign up for an event they may not end up participating in. It is based on a 'first come, first served' basis and artists/authors may choose up to three potential stories/pieces of art (in case their first choice is unavailable). If there are more stories than artists, there will be a second round of claims wherein artists may choose a second story to work with, and on until all stories are claimed for art. Same goes for fic claims; we’ll do multiple claiming periods until everything is claimed.

If a fic or piee of art up for claiming is rated explicit (R, NC-17, etc.), please only claim the story if you are over 18 years of age. Some authors and artists may be uncomfortable working with underage artists or authors on explicit works. We do not verify ages in any way for the bang, so this is solely on the honor system.

What do I do if I have problems or concerns about my author/artist?

Sometimes authors and artists do not get along and this may cause problems with working together. If this happens to be the case with you, please email the mods and we will try to do what we can so that everyone has a chance to have fun at WIP Big Bang!

If you have not heard from your author/artist in some time after trying to contact them, you can reach out to us via email and we will try to get in touch with them for you.

Can I get an extension?

Community extensions may be given in the event that the majority of the authors/artists need one. They may also be given individually under certain circumstances, but this must be discussed with the mods and will only be a short extension for posting. If you are certain that you won’t be able to finish your story in time, please let us know by July 13th.

Can I swap out a fic/piece of art if my muse abandons it again?

When you sign up, you give us the information on the potential fic(s)/art piece(s) you want to finish. If, say, one piece isn’t working but one you didn’t sign up for is, you can switch them out while letting the mods know if you need to change a user ID you used. It is absolutely okay to switch fics all the way up until snippets are due. By then, we hope you’ll have however many fics you plan on doing to at least 80% completion since rough drafts are due not much later. Just drop an email to the mods at [email protected] with the new information (title, fandom, etc) and if you want a new sign in ID or plan to use the same one for the fic you’re replacing it with.

Can I drop out?

We have high hopes that everybody who signs up can actually finish the round and share in the joy of the reveal with us, but real life can unfortunately get in the way and we completely understand! If you feel like you just cannot finish in time and no amount of assistance from us can help you, just let us know by August 13th (if at all possible).

Is it possible to be banned?

We do have a banned users list. We hope to use this to encourage participants who are having issues to communicate with the mods. We want to help you! The way the ban works is that participants, either authors and artists, will be banned for dropping out without notifying a mod. This means that anyone who has not posted or talked to a mod by the time the posting period ends will be banned. Dropping out is not in and of itself a banning offense, so please do not panic if you have to drop out! We understand that there are many reasons you may need to drop, and we want to work with you.

Bans will last one round or until the issue is resolved, whichever comes first. To resolve a ban, authors will have to finish and post the story they signed up with and artists will have to finish and post the art for the story they claimed. Three bans will result in a permanent ban from the bang.

Are we allowed to participate without joining the Discord?

Absolutely! The Discord server is optional, as just another way to interact with your fellow writers and get updates on important dates. It’s not mandatory you join, however.

I was just wondering if there’s any way to enter the bang anonymously? Like would it be okay to put our work in an anonymous collection on ao3 or something?

Unfortunately, I can’t think of a way for that to work. The collection that we use is moderated but it’s not anonymous, and there are the bragging posts that you post on your posting day, which you would have your username on whichever platform you use.

I was just wondering whether I'm sworn to secrecy on which fics I'll be finishing up, or if I can shout it out to the world?

No one is sworn to secrecy once they’ve signed up (aside from posting new parts to fic that’s already up somewhere…we ask that you refrain from doing that until at least July 1st)! We will be running Word Wars, where you can add more to a fic in a certain amount of time, and Whine Bars, where you can complain or ask for help or whatever else you feel like talking about when it comes to struggling with a fic, all after sign-ups end on a weekly basis, plus there’s the Discord server for chatting with your fellow authors and artists.

I have a question/concern that’s not mentioned here.

If you need help, you can always contact a mod and we will do our best to make sure that you get your story/art finished. The best and fastest method of contact is through our email, [email protected].

#wipbb #wiprb #wip big bang #wip reverse bang #!2025 #faq #schedule #!admin

315 notes · View notes

bunnyluvx · 18 days ago

Text

gaming w/ lads lis! ♡

featuring: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb x gn!reader.

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

requested by @napforalifetime | dc: @cafekitsune | wc: 1.6k | ao3

tags: fluff | established relationship | physical affection | luke and kieran mention | doxxing

a/n: I HAVE FINALLY WRITTEN CALEB AFTER ALMOST 3 MONTHS OF POSTING LADS CONTENT. i'm excited to write more for him in the future, i can tell he's gonna be really fun. also for the most part, my ideas for these scenarios surround shooter games like valorant, overwatch, marvel rivals etc, so that's what i'm going to be basing your experiences with all of the lis off of.

date started: 4:15PM, june 25th, 2025.

date finished: 5:41PM, june 28th, 2025.

xavier ♡

i think that the only way that xavier would regularly game is if he's asked to play. i don't see him turning down co-workers or friends whenever they ask him to game, and he certainly won't say no if you ask.

i imagine that he has a switch where he has some cozy games or some story-based games that he's really into. i can also see him having a console or a pc setup for when his friends/co-workers want to play, but other than that, i don't think he games much.

xavier is relatively quiet to my understanding, so i think that would continue to apply when you play video games. he pings enemies, and seemingly teleports to your side just how he does irl when you start screaming for help, but his focus is mainly on everyone around him. he catches on pretty quickly, and does really well after getting used to the controls and learning about the characters.

he also LOCKS IN when you play. sometimes, you can hear his controller's clicking sounds from just how hard he gets into it. he doesn't even notice how focused he becomes, so when you bring it up, he's surprised by himself.

xavier is a dps main. i will not explain myself

who carries depends, i think. if you guys play consistently, i think you take turns carrying. if not, you take the lead.

xavier doesn't often look at stats, but when he does and sees that you're doing well, he always makes a point to praise you. you felt accomplished before, but your boyfriend's approval seals it in for you.

xavier doesn't really look at chat either, but he is so quick to come to your defense if he sees that someone is being mean to you. their account is reported and banned not long after.

i don't see xavier doing friendly fire. mainly, i think he'd just kind of..let you do whatever. push or blast him off of the map, shoot and kill him, etc. if there's an option, and you want to have a little fight, he'll play along. he always wins and you threaten to ban him from cuddle time /j.

once he starts collecting emotes, he uses the sitting ones OFTEN between gameplay. before a match starts or between queue, you find him sitting somewhere.

LOVES playing hide and seek in custom games. mainly when you're the seeker because your taunts and giggling warm his heart.

CAN xavier get competitive? yes. DOES he? no. he doesn't care enough. he just wants to have fun and spend time with you, so winning or losing doesn't matter to him.

knows some gamer lingo, so he mostly understands you when you use it. if something is unfamiliar to him, he asks then learns something new!

zayne ♡

similar to xavier, zayne doesn't game unless you ask him to. he might have played some when he was younger out of social obligation, but not much past that. i think that he prefers card or board games.

i think that zayne is pretty decent when it comes to shooter games. he isn't the best on the team, but he's not the worst either.

the idea of you solving puzzles together in a horror/mystery game is a really interesting thought to me. that's something i think he'd be really into. he also likes games where you have to work together towards a common goal. this cutie patootie LOVES games that exercise the brain.

idk why this came to my head but he likes crossword puzzles too. if he can't think of a word, he likes to ask for your help. he loves to do them with you, too.

BACK TO VIDEO GAME TALK, zayne is a support main. he likes to feel like he's contributing and he feels really useful when he heals people :)

gets SO soft when someone thanks him for healing them. it doesn't really show but the appreciation makes him happy

stops healing teammates when they're mean to you. won't revive them or nothin. reports any bullies or game sabotage after the match is over

i think that zayne would be down for friendly fire every once in awhile. you take turns chasing each other around, and zayne is really quick so you lose him kind of easily. your giggling while you run lights up his night.

you carry for the most part. when zayne really focuses, your stats match up, but he doesn't really play enough to perform well consistently.

zayne will glance towards chat in case, and rarely ever looks at stats. i think that he likes to watch the crazy stuff people will say sometimes

isn't familiar with gamer lingo. you have to teach him almost all of it, and he appreciates the effort.

also uses sit emotes often when you're not queued up. he likes when you send him pictures of you sitting together, he thinks it's really cute

always watches out for you when you play together. pockets you sometimes when there isn't much else for him to do

i think that he can be a little competitive. he doesn't care enough to get really upset by it, but he does get peeved

gets frustrated when people spawn-camp. annoyed when people t-bag.

rafayel ♡

i don't see rafayel liking shooter games all that much. i think that he would enjoy games like minecraft more, where his creative liberty can run wild.

minecraft is now rafayel's favorite video game because i said so

makes the most gorgeous houses and structures

likes the sims too

really good with room decorating

you make yourselves as sims and have a family together

he likes games that give him various customization. he likes making things pretty

if you ask him to play a shooter game with you, he'll say yes. any time with you is time well-spent

when you do play shooter games, rafayel mains support. he gets easily annoyed when playing dps and he has little to no interest in playing tank

doesn't know gamer lingo. you use it for the first time, and he makes a joke about it. you explain to him what it meant and do so from that point forward. he incorporates it into his own language when you play now and you feel so proud watching him grow as a silly little gamer

so down for friendly fire. likes smacking you for fun. you have 1v1s and keep track of your wins. sometimes you 1v1 in games to settle arguments or disagreements and you both think it's hilarious

rafayel gets really competitive. when someone targets you or him, his mission from that point forward is to kill that person and WIN.

very defensive of you. hears someone talking badly about you in game vc and GOES OFF.

gets easily side-tracked so you have to remind him of your objective sometimes

sylus ♡

i think that he would game on his own. very rarely does he, but he enjoys his time when it happens. it gives him something to do with his time and attention. open to playing with you almost any time

sylus likes games with lots of lore. he appreciates how much effort goes into video games. he also likes decision-based games because every action that one has having consequences is something that intrigues him

puzzle games too. give this man a door he can't open and he is on the hunt for the key

tank main. he's very strategic in the ways he makes space for his team, and it satisfies him

i think that he's flexible with what roles he plays though. he does whatever is most convenient for himself and his team to try to get to a win

very down for friendly fire. likes to tease you and other people. he thinks it's funny when people get mad at him for shooting them

knows some gamer lingo because of luke and kieran, but rarely uses it. watching you use it makes him smile because he knows that means you're enjoying yourself. he also kinda pokes fun at you because some lingo is really silly

sylus is a pretty good player. he doesn't play enough to be good consistently but when he gets back into the groove after playing for awhile, you don't often lose

sylus ABSOLUTELY gets competitive. he doesn't really verbalize it, but he wants to win. i can 100% hear him saying, "is that all you can do?" and "that was too easy."

if people are mean to you because you're not good at the game, he makes sure that they can't play on their device of choice anymore. but you don't know that

caleb ♡

HE'S A GAMER BOY. THEY SAID SEE U LATER BOY /lyr

in all seriousness, caleb games often when he's not busy. you've been playing together since you were young and you both LOVE ITTT

likes horror games. phasmophobia came to mind, i think he'd like it

dps/tank main. likes killing things

he uses gamer lingo regularly when you play together and sometimes even teaches you some!

open to friendly fire. he will kill u over and over and over and over again just to annoy u

pretty good at games!!! when he does well at the end of a match he brags about just how awesome he is. you think he's awesome too but you tell him he sucks for the funnys

gets very competitive. dives head first into matches and you have to swim through what feels like seas of enemies just to find him

teaches u how to play new characters. very good teacher and always gives u the best advice to improve

will doxx someone if they're mean to you /hj

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

AITA for asking my boyfriend to wear lingerie?

Wow that sounds really fucking weird and this is weird but anyway

I (31M) am dating a guy (29M) and have been for about 4 years now, and we share an apartment. He's so beyond perfect and I am insanely lucky, and I'm planning on proposing to him this June.

Important to note that he is FTM. I am not, I'm very cis. He doesn't dress very masculinely, he likes dresses and skirts and stuff, which I like because he looks fucking hot in them and it makes him happy to dress like that. I haven't ever seen him wear ladies' underwear or anything like that before, only boxer briefs. I didn't really realize that till after this conflict though.

Lately I was in... a certain store for adults, picking up some undisclosed items, and noticed some lingerie that I thought would look really good on him. I ended up buying it as a gift.

When I showed it to him that night though his face just fell. He started tearing up and said he really didn't want to wear it and that he felt really insulted that I'd ask him to wear something like that. I apologized right off the bat, but I said was confused and I told him that he wears fem clothes the time. He told me that women's underwear made him feel really dysphoric and the lingerie had this thing, I forgot what he called it, but it basically makes the breasts more prominent like a wire or something (I grew up with two equally cis brothers and a mom who never talked about any of this so cut me some slack). He got top surgery years before he met me so I'm not sure what he's talking about.

Anyway. I apologized and put it back in the bag, told him I'd return it and I intend to. We ended up going to bed without having sex like we planned. He didn't touch me at all all night and didn't kiss me goodbye before he went to work the next morning.

I want to be very clear. I'm not trans, and I would never challenge him on what makes him dysphoric. But I do want him to explain what upsets him so I understand. I want to know what he's thinking so he doesn't just shut down on me.

One last thing. I know this is the drastic actions website but I don't want to see any of the "break up" comments or any sort of slander against my boyfriend. I love that boy and I am going to marry him if he'll have me.

Was I TA for getting him a gift? I wanted to surprise him but it did not turn out well. I would also appreciate any advice, especially from other trans guys. Thank you all.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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yasministration · 2 months ago

Text

*ೃ༄ jaunty june m.list ִֶָ☾.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ navigation

✴︎ jun 1 ✴︎ missing you - remus lupin

as your relationship develops, remus decides that he can't stand the long distance, and spends every waking second thinking of you

✴︎ jun 2✴︎ the talk - harry potter -> concussions and interruptions au

when james potter catches you and his son making out in his bedroom, he excitedly goes to tell his wife. but he isn't expecting her to call you both down for a talk no one can take seriously.

✴︎ jun 3 ✴︎ lingering perfume - fred weasley

harry has warned you that if you don't stop stealing his sweaters, he'll tell your parents about your boyfriend. but your parents are very much aware of your relationship, so harry goes one step further.

✴︎ jun 4 ✴︎ eternal love - james potter

when harry comes home one night to have dinner with his parents, he catches an intimate moment between you and james, and wishes he would be home to witness them more often

✴︎ jun 5 ✴︎ what are you, her boyfriend? - ron weasley

cormac mclaggen doesn't know how to take no for an answer, so your best friend steps in - as your boyfriend

✴︎ jun 6 ✴︎ Phantom of the Opera: Epilogue - Remus Lupin

Thankfully, you and Remus are always graced with Sirius Black’s presence. He randomly pops into your house, even when you’re not even home. Anything not to be lonely.

✴︎ jun 7 ✴︎ time and place - spencer reid

two attractive fbi agents interrupt your pool party to ask about your father - bummer right? wrong.

✴︎ jun 8 ✴︎ heart of the common room - harry potter

you find your boyfriend irresistible at a party, so you go and give him a kiss. or two. or maybe a little bit more.

✴︎ jun 9 ✴︎ which one - patrick zweig, art donaldson

when some girl you don't know rudely asks which of the two tennis players you're dating at a party, you give her a response neither of them appreciates.

✴︎ jun 10 ✴︎ parent teacher meeting - remus lupin

professor lupin hates having meetings with parents. but maybe he hates them a little less after meeting you, a single mother to the kindest student he has taught.

✴︎ jun 11 ✴︎ hands full - harry potter -> concussions and interruptions au

sex with harry potter makes you lose your ability to think, even when his mother is speaking to him on the other side of the locked door.

✴︎ jun 12 ✴︎ (not) the traditional way - regulus black

sirius discovers through grapevine gossip that his younger brother is engaged to his long term girlfriend after both their parents found out.

✴︎ jun 13 ✴︎ wonder - sirius black

sometimes sirius wonders what life would be like if he hadn't gone to azkaban. if you'd had children together. but tonight, he doesn't have to wonder too much.

✴︎ jun 14 ✴︎ traditions - remus lupin -> potter!reader secret relationship au

you and james have a tradition of sneaking out into the courtyard every year on your birthday at midnight, reading the letters from your parents and opening gifts.

✴︎jun 15 ✴︎ pass the wrench - harry potter -> concussions and interruptions au

when james enters his living room and can't find harry to help him fix something, he decides you're fit to help with the job. after all, you're practically already his daughter in law.

✴︎ jun 16 ✴︎ the phoenix - remus lupin

whispers of a secret agent floated around grimmauld place for days on end. the phoenix. an agent so important they had been named after the order itself. or was that actually the case?

✴︎ jun 17 ✴︎ summer solstice - mattheo riddle

every year on the spring equinox, pureblooded parents begin plotting their newly adult children's marriage, and on the summer solstice, the engagements are announced. finally 18, you and your friends begin panicking, hoping for bearable fiancés. but those who have the power to turn the court in their favour decide to pull a few strings.

✴︎ jun 18 ✴︎ three days - patrick zweig

patrick makes sure to fill his phone with content he can jerk off to because he can't even last three days on a game trip without sex. or more specifically: you

✴︎ jun 19 ✴︎ think again - james potter

on your fifteenth anniversary, sirius and remus gift you and james a photo album that has you gasping in embarrassment in front of harry and closing it with a loud slam. despite that, and the warning on the front page that says 'Harry, if you’re reading this, think again', your son can't help himself. He should have thought again. And again.

✴︎ jun 20 ✴︎ bet on it, parkinson? - platonic!slytherins

when the group of slytherins spot harry potter with a girl they've never seen before, pansy decides to investigate, convinced you're his sister.

✴︎ jun 21 ✴︎ attractive colleagues - derek morgan

when you go over to your dad's place to ask him for help in checking if you have a concussion, you discover he has very attractive colleagues.

✴︎ jun 22 ✴︎ not a love confession - remus lupin

when harry and remus are back from hogwarts, there is a clear tension between the student and his godfather. so when sirius bribes harry to tell him what's going on, he reveals that he caught remus kissing the new charms professor.

✴︎ jun 23 ✴︎ not dating - spencer reid

you and spencer were not dating. then why did you act like it?

✴︎ jun 24 ✴︎ be my baby - harry potter -> concussions and interruptions au

another night at the potter household reveals that you love one of harry's least favourite songs, a.k.a his dad's all time favourite.

✴︎ june 24.5 (7k special) ✴︎ want you to stay - peter parker -> frat boy!peter au

peter is absolutely appalled when he sees you beginning to leave the party when his frat brother yells "if you're not a brother or fucking a brother, get out!"

✴︎ jun 25 ✴︎ snobby slytherin princess - sirius black

there's something about a snobby slytherin princess that sirius black cannot resist. so when you get into an argument with rabastan lestrange and let it slip that sirius black would have a better chance at marrying you, the boy springs into action.

✴︎ jun 26 ✴︎ one of your girls - marlene mckinnon

you and marlene have summer flings. every summer. but when you break up with your boyfriend so that the next summer you can enjoy her company to the fullest, you realise your feelings for her may be deeper than you think...

✴︎ jun 27 ✴︎ crossover episode - james potter, criminal minds

after a long case, you're happy to find your husband and two best friends have taken a short trip to come pick you up from work. but your coworkers are more than shocked to discover you're not only married, but have a child too.

✴︎ jun 28 ✴︎ shadowed shed - harry potter -> wolfstar!daughter au

when you go look for a lamp to bring outside whilst your and harry's families have dinner outside, harry sneaks away to find you. you both get a little distracted

✴︎ jun 29 ✴︎ a few opinions - remus lupin -> potter!reader secret relationship au

james finds you crying to remus because of slughorn's disrespectful comments, and decides to tell professor mcgonagall a few opinions about his potions professor

✴︎ jun 30 ✴︎ a third - james potter

after a loving night with your family, you finally admit to james that you're ready to have another child.

a/n: i'm honestly so excited for this june because i've been working on this fic line up for a while. as i've mentioned more than once, i have exams may-june, so i had an entire writing binge before my exams started, and this is the result. i really hope everyone enjoys the fics this month!!

#rainydayathogwarts #harry potter #hogwarts #marauders era #marauders #criminal minds fic #rainydayathogwarts inbox #criminal minds #masterlist #the marauders

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tkdb-encyclopedia · 2 months ago

Text

Tokyo Debunker Lore Timeline

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ Last Updated: May 30th, 2025 Notes under the cut. Disclaimer: Due to the scale of the timeline, there may be inaccuracies. Please let me know if you see any, or if there are dates I missed. Formatting for 2024 is a bit odd due to Tumblr character limits. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

1974

July: Hanae Numata kills herself and her son Hanao

2020

Unknown: Yu Kunishige vanishes

2021

Unknown: Keiko Takamine gets divorced; Father of Yu Kunishige kills himself ◦ ❖ ◦ July 10th: Suspicious person's report filed against the Unknown Caller

2022

Unknown: Lyca locked up by Darkwick ◦ ❖ ◦ March-ish: Jin's mother dies[1] ◦ ❖ ◦ September: Subaru tasked with investigating Lyca; Obscuary Established September 2nd: Third year students' entrance ceremony

2023

Early August: 4th Years return to Campus[2] End of August: Darkwick Gala occurs; Frostheim wins Laurel Crown One Week Later: Darkwick Graduation ◦ ❖ ◦ September: Second year students' entrance ceremony[3]; Haku transfers to Frostheim[4]

2023 - 2024

Unknown: Immortal inpatient cursed[5]

2024[6]

Unknown: One Eyed Sleeping Beauty Murder occurs[7]; Clash occurs; Zenji killed by rogue anomaly[8]; Darkwick Gala Discontinued; Dionysia escapes; Unknown day marked 8 on Towa's cave; Unknown day marked 0 on Towa's cave; December(?) or February(?) marked unknown number on Towa's cave; Unknown day marked 3 on Towa's cave; Unknown day marked 1 on Towa's cave ◦ ❖ ◦ March-ish: Mister Long Legs impersonation starts; Haru transfers to Jabberwock[9]; Tohma transfers to Frostheim[10]; Yuri transfers to Mortkranken[10] ◦ ❖ ◦ April-ish: Taiga becomes Sinostra captain[11]; Casino opens ◦ ❖ ◦ May: Romeo started hunting Kaito[12] May 4th: Marked an unknown number on Towa's cave ◦ ❖ ◦ June: Inmate 1241 jailed ◦ ❖ ◦ July 15th: Marked an unknown number on Towa's cave July 20th: Takeru dies July 27th: New video uploaded by Takeru ◦ ❖ ◦ End of School Year: Haku transfers to Hotarubi[13] ◦ ❖ ◦ July - August: Complaints about the anomalous dealer in casino begin August: Unknown day marked with unknown number on Towa's cave; Dionysia, Clementia, and Ultio defunct[14] Early August: 4th Years return to Campus[15] August 8th: Marked 0 on Towa's cave August 9th: Marked 10 on Towa's cave August 15th: Marked 8 on Towa's cave August 20th: Jun dies End of August: Darkwick graduation ceremony ◦ ❖ ◦ September: Naoki goes on a low-ranking mission and is cursed. September 3rd: Final concert of MC's fave band, MC cursed[16] September 4th: MC brought to Darkwick[17], Entrance ceremony; Dante starts as Frostheim advisor; Ghoul-Only Captain/Vice-Captain Rule Established; Sinostra put on probation September 5th: First day of class; Frostheim assignment begins; Ren's first day at the diner; Kaito bets this date against the Oblivion Dealer September 6th: MC's first health check; first official investigation day September 7th: MC attempts to run away again; investigation ends September 8th: Celebratory Ball[18] September 12th: YaBoyGhostGuy dies September 18th: Jin applies for boat permit; Sho and Luca almost fight September 19th: Vagastrom Investigation start; Alan and MC investigate the mountain, Leo and Sho investigate the apartment[19] September 20th: Vagastrom investigation day two; Leo and Alan question people; Tohma and Alan talk in private; Vagastrom R&R permits revoked for a month September 21st: MC and Alan question people; Leo livestreams at apartment; Takeru Tulpa destroyed September 22nd: Leo appointed vice-captain; Vagastrom punishment waived September 24th: Haru puts a tracker on Ren September 25th: Marked 5 on Towa's cave September 28th: Boat let out distress signal, crew all died

◦ ❖ ◦

October: Inmate 1258 (Vagastrom prologue guy) jailed; Natalie Hunt murdered October 1st: Haru clears Ren's schedule; Calamari acquired and given to Jabberwock[20]; Haru and Towa visit investigation site; Jabberwock boat breaks October 2nd: MC asks Jin for a boat; Haru gets tetanus October 3rd: Odaiba Seaside Park boat pickup; Towa and MC go underwater; Marked as 3 on Towa's cave; Haru passes out October 4th: Haru wakes up; Ren and Haru go underwater; Calamari's mother freed; 34 year old apprentice monk at Gen'enji Temple dies October 5th: Jabberwock case report submitted; Sinostra assignment received; Peekaboo kidnapped October 6th: Sinostra assignment begins; Ren's first day back at the diner; MC and Ritsu discuss laurel crown and get it reinstated October 7th: First time visiting Sinostra; Peekaboo rescued; Kaito gambles with Oblivion Dealer; Kaito kidnapped October 8th: Romeo admits to kidnapping; 20 year old apprentice monk at Gen'enji Temple dies October 9th: Jiro hands over a prototype; Taiga eats the Like Dove; Mortkranken attends a workshop; Anomalous Dealer final showdown occurs October 10th: Sinostra case report finished Mid-October: Day 1: Hotarubi assignment received; Visit to Hotarubi Day 2: First investigation day; We visit Gen'enji Temple Day 3: Investigation continues; MC overhears Alan and Dante; Haku cleanses a ghost; Abbot of Gen'enji Temple dies Day 4: Investigation continues; We all meet Lyca; Cause of deaths discovered and destroyed Day 5: We meet Zenji; Doll registered as a special artefact; case report finished ◦ ❖ ◦ Three Days Ago: Lyca admitted into Darkwick Medical Center Day 1: Lyca sorted into Obscuary; Obscuary assignment received Day 2: Lyca's first day at school; Girl and Barometz meet; Lyca and MC work at Rui's bar; MC visits Towa at the tree Day 3: Investigation at Ome School; Taiga robs the bar; MC learns she will become the Kyklos Day 4: Barometz eats MC; Lyca transforms[21] Day 5: MC healed; Obscuary case report finished ◦ ❖ ◦ October 25th: JobxJob exclusive fanclub stream[22]; Naoki kills himself October 27th: Mortkranken assignment starts[23]; Body found outside of Frostheim; Jiro goes to Obscuary in search of herbal medication October 28th: Visit to Darkwick General; Towa and MC visit tree again October 29th: Return to Darkwick General; Immortal anomaly issue October 30th: Emergency repairs for Darkwick and Darkwick General; Mortkranken case report finished; Mandatory assembly about Gala; Romeo and Sho are given special missions by Hyde

◦ ❖ ◦

Early November[24]: Day 1: Sinostra auction mission assigned; Investigation begins; Romeo and MC earn money; Taiga and Ritsu investigate; Taiga and MC eavesdrop on Romeo Day 2: Ritsu and Taiga find Institute Agent; Truth about auction revealed; Mask acquired and eaten Day 3: Case report finished; Taiga visits Hyde ◦ ❖ ◦ Day 1: Graveyard mission assigned; Samhain prep in full swing; First investigation day; MC, Jiro, and Zenji find the ghost child Day 2: Graveyard investigation continues; Arachne anomaly destroyed Day 3: Case Report Finished; Romeo talks to somebody on the phone ◦ ❖ ◦ One Day Ago: Mai and the others arrive at the Takamine mansion Day 1: Samhain's over; Mission assigned; Rui contacts the mansion; Moby buys Christmas concert tickets; Romeo tells Haru 'they' are awaiting sentencing Day 2: Obscuary rides the Bullet Train; First day on the job; Rui and Lyca prepare food while MC and Ed sweep near the front gate Day 3: MC has night duty (laundry task); Ed tries to vampire us; Rui and Lyca continue kitchen duty; MC and Ed clean the library Day 4: Meal night duty; Everyone goes to the basement; truth about Keiko revealed; Rui's curse kills Keiko Day 5: Case report finished; Ed and Towa talk at the tree ◦ ❖ ◦ November 25th: Inmate 1022 burns to death in solitary A Few Days Later: Inmate 1148 dies from a great fall in solitary

◦ ❖ ◦

December: Director and Vice Director of National Museum visit France; Man sets himself on fire[25] Early December: Inmate in solitary begins to go crazy December 9th: Prison mission assigned; Subaru offers to babysit Bonnie December 10th: The mission begins; Sho meets the Vagastrom prologue guy again; Alan meets Iwata again December 11th: Alan visits solitary; Subaru struggles with Bonnie; Vagastrom discovers it's a ghost December 12th: Ghost gets caught and killed December 13th: Alan is taken away for murder; we return to Darkwick; Subaru gets an R&R permit December 14th: Case report finished; Alan reveals he murdered Dante to the others Mid December: Day 1: Heater in the Jabberwock dorm breaks; Father Farm investigation permit gotten Day 2: First day of investigation; Towa breaks off his costume horn; Haru and Ren make wishes Day 3: Father Farm closes due to weather; Ritsu sees someone in Jabberwock Day 4: MC sees Towa speaking to the Cat; the god restores Ren and Haru to normal Day 5: Return to Darkwick; Haru visits Taiga ◦ ❖ ◦ Day 1 [26]: Frostheim mission assigned; Tohma catches Leo in the staffroom Day 2: First day of the masquerade; MC encounters the mirror anomaly; Tohma, Alan, Leo, and Jin confrontation occurrs Day 3: Gaspard found dead; Kaito encounters the mirror anomaly; MC and Tohma returned to Darkwick Day 4: Marius found dead; Hugo found dead; Dullahan neutralised Day 5: Case report finished; Jin and Alan talk

2025

Mid-February[27]: Four Days Ago: A Global History of Infectious Diseases opens; National Museum Director kills himself Two Days Ago: CEO's wife kills herself Day 1: Case file recieved; Jiro and MC attend class Day 2: Investigation begins; First visit to the museum; Jiro has a seizure Day 3: Investigation continues; Yuri asks Hyde to make a duplicate mask; Frostheim students confront Yuri Day 4: Yuri fails to treat Jiro; MC sees a woman kill herself; Anomaly revealed as Oui, C'est Bon Day 5: Yuri treats Jiro; Yuri reveals Aizono Hospital's misdiagnosis and coverup Day 6: Case report finished; Hyde calls Romeo ◦ ❖ ◦ March[28]: Day 1: Rui and MC visit library; Hotarubi issued investigation order; We visit Hotarubi Day 4: Interview at Yumeyashiki; Zenji has writer's block; We are hired Day 5: Orientation at the amusement park Day 6: Job begins; MC hears wind Day 7: Yumeyashiki slogan contest; MC encounters caller; Subaru reveals research Day 8: Third day on the job; Subaru is recognised in public; Moby delivers documents Day 9: Subaru and MC encounter Hanae and Hanao Day 10: Hanao dragged away by the ghosts; Case report finished; Subaru stares at scissors at Tree of Severance ◦ ❖ ◦ May: Waves of Love begins filming for the first time May 28th[29]: MC has counselling appointment; MC given Warding Card; Mission assigned; Visit to Dionysia; Mission begins; Lyca fights with the Jabberwock fox May 29th (Artificial World): Romeo is cursed by the Hundun; MC almost dies; Hotel collapses due to rain May 29th (Real World): Haru calls Taiga[30]; Sinostra leaves the Simulated World[31]; Haru finds Lyca at Jabberwock May 30th (Artificial World): Fortune teller killed by Hundun; Taiga takes a call from Haru; Hundun shot by Taiga ◦ ❖ ◦ A Few Days Prior[32]: New interhouse mission assigned; MC asks Benkei to buy a swimsuit After That: Benkei gives MC a nenju bracelet June 17th: Filming for Waves of Love begins; MC meets the Bachelors on the mission (First Impressions); Jiro has an episode; Anomaly appears June 18th: Investigation continues; Second Impression's paintball battle; MC's bracelet explodes; Jin investigates June 19th[32]: Zenji's birthday; Jiro has an episode; Final Impressions (Barbecue + Dinner); Anomaly destroyed; Filming wraps June 20th: Case report finished

Footnotes:

[1] Episode 1, Chapter 30: Masterpiece Newscaster mentions that Jin's mother died two and a half years prior. This is two and a half Calendar years prior, meaning it is roughly in March. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [2] Interestingly, this is a JP note. In Episode 6, Chapter 5, the English has Moby mention that the Gala is at the end of August, when the fourth years return. The Japanese script has Moby saying that the fourth years return when it becomes August to prepare for graduation, and that at the end of that month, the Gala takes place. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [3] Given the fact that the other known entrance ceremonies both take place in September, it is an educated guess that this is the case for the second years as well. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [4] Episode 15, Chapter 25 has Haku mention that he was in Frostheim for a year before transferring to Hotarubi. In Chapter 2, Rui says Haku transferred suddenly after becoming a 2nd year (in the JP text), meaning that it was most likely September when Haku transferred to Frostheim. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [5] Episode 7, Chapter 26 says the immortal inpatient was cursed during a mission 'last year', though whether that is last school year or last calendar year is unclear. If it was last school year, there is still a chance he was cursed in 2023 (if it happened early on in the year). The implication is that he was cursed prior to March 2024, due to Nicolas saying Yuri wouldn't recognise him nor would Jiro. March-April, 2024 is roughly when multiple events related to the Clash occurred, including transfers, so it is likely that it happened before this point, as it would prevent him and Yuri from meeting. As for Jiro, we don't actually know when he was woken from his coma, so… shrugs. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [6] This one is kinda a doozy. Multiple moving parts place the prologue in 2024. To begin, in Episode 15, Chapter 27, there is a Suspicious Person Report filed on July 10th, 2021. In a subsequent chapter, Chapter 29, Haku discusses the disappearance of Yu Kunishige, who vanished five years ago. Following this disappearance, her father kills himself a year later, and becomes the Unknown Caller anomaly. He is a newer anomaly (also mentioned in Ch27) compared to the other ghosts. Assuming the Unknown Caller is already an anomaly (given that he knows Hanao Numata and was not asking about Yu, as reports said he would do when he was alive), this means Yu vanished no later than 2020. And, if Yu vanished in 2020, and her father killed himself in 2021, that would place Episode 15 in 2025, given that Chapter 5 has Zenji mention it is almost blossom season (Blossom season occurred in Late March) and MC explicitly say it is March. This matches up with Episode 14 taking place in February, and Episode 13 taking place in December.

Furthermore, in Episode 16, Chapter 11, Ritsu mentions it has been 266 days since Sinostra was placed on Probation, which would place that chapter in May. It can't be 2024 at the time of that statement because it was a leap year, and it would mean his count is off by one. It can't be earlier either, because of the aforementioned Yu Kunishige issue. That issue is also why it can't be set in the future; if it is 2026, for example, Yu disappeared in 2021, and her father would be looking for her when the report is filed. Similarly, if it was 2027, there would be no report to file, as Yu would not have disappeared at the time of its filing. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [7] Considering how many Clash related events take place in March or April (which is halfway through the school year), it is unfathomable that it wouldn't take place in 2024. Could it hypothetically take place in 2023? I guess so. But there's no reason for there to be a minimum 3 month gap between major events. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [8] MC speculates in Episode 5, Chapter 31 that Zenji's death happened during the Clash. Haku also states that he died during the 'thick of [all the problems last year]', so it was Likely around the Clash era. Zenji also didn't know the gala was cancelled, as that happened after he died. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [9] In Episode 3, Chapter 11, Haru mentions it took him six months to learn Jabberwock's ropes, and later on in Episode 16, Chapter 8 that Haru transferred suddenly, so it was likely in the middle of last school year. However, horrifically, while the English says it took 6 months for him to learn the ropes, the word he uses in Japanese is 半月; half a month. Further investigation into Kansai-ben shows no special other meaning, so... Um. Yeah. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [10] Episode 2, Chapter 26 Leo mentions that Tohma was in Vagastrom until the middle of last school year, which would put it Vaguely In March. This more or less aligns with the Clash. In Episode 1, Chapter 1, Yumiko and another Frostheim student gossip briefly, and mention that people believe Tohma had something to do with Yuri's transfer. I placed them roughly around the same time therefore, but it is totally possible Yuri's transfer happened Earlier or Later.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

[11] In Episode 4, Chapter 10 Ritsu says Taiga became Captain approximately half a year ago. Given that it is October, six months earlier would be April, though as always it could be March that he transfers, given the sheer amount of Clash-specific issues that happen around this time. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [12] Episode 9, Chapter 5 has Kaito reveal that Romeo has been hunting him for half a year at the time of saying that. Once again, given that it is November, and given that the Casino opens roughly around April, and given that Kaito also mentions he didn't see Romeo prior to this, it would make sense that this starts around May. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [13] Once again, Episode 15, Chapter 25 has Haku say he was in Frostheim for a full year before transferring again. Since he is in Hotarubi and seemingly well adapted to it by the beginning of the story, he likely transferred sometime in July or August. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [14] Multiple mentions to when Dionysia became defunct occur, namely Episode 5, Chapter 2 (where it is mentioned they closed last school year) and Episode 16, Chapter 5 (where it is reiterated that Dionysia became defunct at the end of last school year). In the English script, Elias mentions in Ep16 Chapter 7 that Dionysia has been Abandoned for six months, however the JP says that it went defunct Over six months ago, meaning it is still reiterating that Dionysia has been out of commission for quite some time. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [15] Another assumption that this is a yearly event that always reoccurs at the same time every year. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [16] In the Prologue, Chapter 1 it is 7:13pm when MC is on the train coming back (based on timestamps from her group chat). However, in Chapter 3 (and reiterated again in Chapter 4), it is suddenly daytime after MC is cursed. When it is daytime, it is known to be September 4th, and morning based on how much happens during the Prologue in one day, meaning it is likely MC was cursed on September 3rd, and Kisaragi Station OR Kyklos caused time discrepancies.

Another more unhinged reason is that the prophecy says the Whisper of the New Moon would lead the Champion to the isle. In 2024 in Tokyo, the new moon for September occurred September 3rd, roughly around 11pm. Does this moon chart line up with anything else? No, basically just this. However it's a neat coincidence regardless. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [17] In Episode 4, Chapter 21, Kaito says he bet September 5th of that year to the Oblivion Dealer. Later in Chapter 29, he says it was the day after the entrance ceremony, meaning that the entrance ceremony took place September 4th. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [18] Not only does the dates line up with the days that pass throughout the chapters, MC also has the option to bet September 8th of that year in Episode 4, Chapter 24, which is mentioned as the Celebratory Ball in Frostheim. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [19] Once again, Episode 4, Chapter 24 allows MC to wager September 19th, noting it was the Vagastrom undercover investigation where they first used the Fox Robe. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [20] Once again, Episode 4 Chapter 24. MC wagers October 1st, noting it is when she meets Jabberwock.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

[21] In Episode 6, Chapter 34 Edward says it's the full moon that night, which is important for the purpose of reiterating the moon thing is likely a coincidence, given that the full moon for October when this chapter occurs is October 17th, which is genuinely impossible for Obscuary to reach, given that this is the fourth day for Obscuary's investigation, and there's a minimum 3 days timeskip between the end of Hotarubi, which is already a week, and Sinostra ends October 10th. Womp womp. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [22] Interestingly enough, in Episode 5, Chapter 9 Moby mentions needing money by the 25th of the month to pay for a ticket to an exclusive stream, which lead me to believe this is when it takes place. However, the Japanese script says he needs it by the 25th of next month. So shrugs. It's not super important, just strange. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [23] Episode 7, Chapter 7 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [24] Beyond other dates firmly placing the Episode 8 in November, Ritsu mentions in Episode 16, Chapter 23 that the auction took place in November (in the Japanese script, at least). ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [25] Episode 14, Chapter 27 says that the gap between the Director contracting Oui, C'est Bon and his trip to France was 2 months, meaning it is roughly December when they go. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [26] Episode 13, Chapter 1 has a student mention how it is almost time for the Christmas Ball, meaning it's not yet Christmas, and therefore still December. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [27] In Episode 14, Chapter 7, Kaito says he was hoping to get slightly late Valentines Day sweets from MC, meaning it is somewhere around mid-February. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [28] Episode 15, Chapter 5 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [29] Episode 16, Chapter 11, Ritsu says it has been 266 days since Sinostra was placed on probation, meaning it is May 28th as of that statement. Furthermore, in Chapter 27 (after a day from Ritsu's perspective), he states it has been exactly 8 months and 25 days since Ritsu entered Sinostra, meaning it is May 29th as of that statement. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [30] This is roughly where I'd place the phone call given the time discrepancy between the simulated world and the outside world.

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[31] Given that they spent no more than 72 hours in the simulated world, they were gone no more than 7.2 hours in the real world. If they left at vaguely 7pm as was mentioned in Chapter 14, that means it is definitely May 29th or 28th. I assumed it'd be the 29th to give ample time for everything to happen, but it could have been the 28th too. Either way. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [32] The exact time of this event is Unknown. It's no more than like, 5 days before, since it's before 'this weekend', but the JP doesn't say like. Waohhhhh one whole day has passed! And also Benkei has to order the swimsuit and have the wrong one arrive with enough time for it to be Too Close To The Leaving Time. So.... Shrugs. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ [33] Episode 17, Chapter 29

#timeline information #tkdbe #toyko debunker encyclopedia

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