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chuuyrr · 5 months

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ SANTA DOESN'T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO — DAZAI OSAMU ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𐙚₊ CW(s): f! reader, exes to lovers, angst to fluff/comfort, christmas/holiday setting, he still calls you pet names like baby, love, and sweetheart

𐙚₊˚⊹ SYNOPSIS: underneath the twinkling christmas lights, you and osamu embrace the promise of a love rekindled

𐙚₊ NOW PLAYING: santa doesn't know you like i do by sabrina carpenter && new years day by taylor swift ᝰ.ᐟ

in the heart of yokohama, where the winter winds whispered secrets and the city adorned itself in festive lights, you find yourself wandering around in a deep sigh, clutching yourself with your coat adorning you.

the city exuded warmth, and the scent of roasted chestnuts, gingerbread, and an open fire from christmas markets and stores mingled with the laughter of children and adults enjoying the holidays.

as you strolled through the festive scene, you couldn't escape the echoes of your shared past with dazai.

you then stop in front of a familiar bar which was decorated with bright christmas lights and wreaths, and at that moment, you find yourself lost in a sea of memories, reminiscing about the shared moments with osamu, before the inevitable drift that led to your breakup.

among those recollections, two particular scenes painted themselves vividly in your mind, haunting yet bittersweet.

one memory that lingered like a gentle melody was the night you and osamu ventured into the same dimly lit bar, saying that you two deserve a treat.

the air hummed with the soulful tunes of saxophones and pianos as you two nestled into a corner booth. the ambient glow cast a warm aura, reflecting in dazai's brown sugar eyes as you and him clinked glasses of your high-ball whiskeys, toasting to the beauty of the night.

your laughter resonated with the rhythm of the music, creating a symphony of shared joy. osamu, with his enigmatic smile, leaned in to whisper secrets that only you could understand amidst the jazz-infused atmosphere.

it was a night where time seemed to suspend, and your connection deepened through the language of music, laughter, and stories which lead to a shared kiss that became your first.

another memory that tugged at the corners of your heart was the night you spent at osamu's apartment. the air was thick with familiarity as you found solace in the haven he had crafted, even if it was quite empty and rather mininalist, considering how he didn't have much.

either way, you and osamu talked about everything and nothing, the conversation weaving effortlessly between trivialities and profound truths—some even about his day at work, how annoying working on reports was. you even find yourself dancing with him around his kitchen in the middle of the night.

as that night unfolded, osamu's clothes became a comforting embrace, wrapping you in the scent of familiarity. wearing his oversized shirt, you found a sense of closeness, a tangible reminder of the intimacy you once shared.

the cityscape outside his window faded into the background as you and him reveled in the simplicity of being together in his futon, you in his warm embrace, head tucked beneath his chin as you lay on his chest, and he hummed a peacefully melody with his fingers running through your hair to lull you.

the quiet hum of his apartment became a sanctuary in those stolen hours, and even he thought it became a place he could call home when it was previously simply a scarcely filled space, and now it felt more than that. that is, until the fall arrived.

it was a night where the barriers between you and him melted away, leaving only the echoes of whispered confessions of "i love yous" and sweet nothings, along with the soft rustle of borrowed clothes.

now, you stand alone with the weight of these memories, you couldn't help but wonder if those moments were fragments of a love that had slipped through your fingers.

the bar and the borrowed clothes became artifacts of a time when you and osamu reveled in the magic of each other's company, a magic that time, circumstances, and perhaps your own choices had dimmed.

and still, you held onto those memories, recognizing them as delicate fragments of a past that was, in its own way, a testament to the beauty of what you two once had.

the air was crisp, and the city bustled with the festive energy of the holiday season, and you were about to turn away from the bar only to walk and bump into a familiar figure.

there, in the midst of the bustling crowd, stood dazai, and time seemed to freeze for an instant as your eyes met his ever same, warm brown sugar eyes, and the weight of unspoken words lingered in the air—a moment suspended in the delicate dance between past and present.

"osamu," you murmur softly, the name escaping your lips almost as a reflex. his gaze, once distant, softened with a recognition that mirrored your own.

a tentative smile played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the shared history that bounds you both, "hey, fancy meeting you here," he remarks, his voice carrying the hint of a memory you both couldn't escape.

as the crowd flowed around you and dazai, you find yourself standing in a pocket of stillness, a space where the weight of your past lingered.

"what are you doing out here? looking for presents, dear?" dazai strikes a conversation, but you can tell he seemed to be trying to hold himself back. you can tell he was very much ecstatic to see you again despite before.

"no, i was just going for a walk," you respond, rubbing your arm as you blink softly at him.

"just going for a walk this holiday, huh?" he narrows his eyes, a small chuckle escaping his breath, and his gaze soon draws towards the bar where you two would go for a drink, dine, and date.

like a canvas of unread stories, his eyes then hold, a mix of emotions, "funny how memories have a way of catching up with us," he replies, his gaze tracing the invisible threads that connected your past to this chance encounter.

"you know, sometimes, i do wonder if our memories are trying to tell us something," dazai muses, his words resonating with a quiet introspection as you two stood there, grappling with the unspoken question of what these chance encounters meant.

dazai's eyes, once filled with the mischievous sparkle that characterized him, now furrows in a subtle frown as he observed your quiet and somewhat awkward demeanor. the cheerful and festive background chatter of the city around you seemed to fade, leaving only the palpable tension between you and him.

"so," dazai began, a playful lilt in his voice as if attempting to break the uneasy silence, "you've become the epitome of quiet contemplation, i see. is this a new tactic to throw off my deductive skills?" his words were accompanied by a teasing smile, a familiar attempt to coax you into banter.

however, your response remained trapped in the awkwardness that seemed to have enveloped you. reminiscing memories had resurrected emotions that you struggled to articulate, and the weight of unspoken words hung in the air.

his playful demeanor faded slightly, replaced by a genuine concern mirrored in the subtle downturn of his lips. "heh, you're usually more... animated," he mutters, his gaze searching for clues in the quietness that now defined you.

"i guess i've changed, dazai," you mumble, attempting to offer an explanation for the unspoken shift in your dynamic. the words, however, felt inadequate, like leaves carried away by the wind before they could settle.

dazai's eyebrows knit together in a mild frustration, especially when you no longer address him as such, "change, my love, is a curious thing. but this quiet version of you doesn't quite suit the narrative i had in mind," he teases, yet the tease carried an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

as he continued to speak, the air between you two seemed to thicken with unspoken tension. his attempts at light banter fell against the backdrop of my quiet contemplation, creating a dissonance that neither of you anticipated.

a sigh escapes him, a subtle acknowledgment of the unforeseen awkwardness, "i thought we could maybe reminisce and laugh about old times, but it seems like i've stumbled upon a different scene altogether," his frown deepening.

in that moment, the vulnerability beneath dazai's usual charm became apparent. the frown on his face reflected not just confusion but a genuine longing for the familiarity, the connection that once flowed effortlessly between the two of you.

"hey, since we're already in front of the bar we used to frequent, do you mind sharing a drink with me tonight?" he asked, his tone carrying a mix of nostalgia and vulnerability.

your eyes widen a bit in shock. you know you shouldn't, but it just feels so right to say,

"no, i don't mind at all."

memories of laughter, music, and stolen glances resurfaced, painting a vivid scene against the backdrop of the night in the bar of cozy glow of christmas lights and laughter and merriment, yet the weight of those moments hanging in the air.

dazai's gaze became more introspective, his words chosen with care as the two of you sat together by the bar on the cushioned stools with your usual high-ball whiskeys.

"you know, i've been doing a lot of thinking lately, about us and everything that happened," he starts quietly after taking a sip from his drink, "there are words left unsaid, and i think it's time to address them."

as dazai spoke, a rare sincerity colored his voice, unraveling the layers of complexity that often shrouded his emotions, and the night now became a stage for a conversation that held the potential for healing.

"i suppose so," you say back quietly as you swirl your drink around, holding it by the rim and making the ice cube clink against the glass.

you turn to look at dazai, and you see him a take a deep breath as he places his hands in the pocket of his sandy brown coat.

"i want to say sorry," dazai continues, his eyes searching yours for a reaction, "sorry for the moments i let slip away, for the words i said and didn't say, and for the distance that grew between us, and i never meant for it to end like that.."

the rare vulnerability in his admission hung in the air, a bridge between the past and the present. the ambiance of the bar now stood witness to a moment of genuine confession.

"and i miss you," dazai confesses, his gaze never leaving yours, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice, "i miss the laughter, the shared silences, and the way you understood the chaos within me, and if i can be completely honest, i still love you."

the weight of those words settled in the air, carrying with them the echoes of a love that had weathered storms and yet lingered in the recesses of the past. the quietness between you two even seemed to amplify the significance of the moment, as if the universe itself conspired to create a space for the honesty that had long been overdue.

your heart, a mosaic of emotions, responded to his words, caught between the scars of the past and the possibility of a future rewritten.

you, too, couldn't deny the resonance between you and him, "i guess, christmas has a way of making even the coldest hearts nostalgic," you say in a quiet giggle, your gaze meeting his.

the chilly night seemed to warm however.

"i'm sorry too. i'm sorry for giving up on us," you sigh, taking sip of your drink for liquid courage as the unspoken words became spoken now, "i just, it felt like there was no other way, and that this is for the best for us, osamu."

"you called me osamu again," a smile now tugs on his lips, his eyes lighting up with hope.

"oh, shut up," a smile, too, breaks on your face but you sigh softly once more as you look at him once more, "but i mean every word, osamu."

"i know you do, sweetheart," dazai says with a nod before he raises his glass to you.

"yeah," you hum softly as your raise the glass in return to his, toasting to him.

amidst the snowflakes and the soft glow of christmas lights outside, dazai and you find yourselves in the midst of an unexpected reunion, the chilly air echoed with warm memories, and beneath the twinkling stars.

this festive season really had a peculiar way of unraveling emotions, and as you crossed paths with dazai and it was evident that the connection between you two was more than a mere coincidence.

after a heartfelt conversation of unspoken words between you two with a few drinks at the bar, dazai offered to take you back to your place since it was quite late despite the holidays.

however, in a quiet corner just near your place, away from the laughter and merriment, dazai's eyes met yours as he walked right by your side.

"what is it?" you ask, looking up at him.

a subtle smirk plays on his lips as he pauses his tracks, and so do you, "you know, santa doesn't know you like i do."

it was a statement layered with memories of shared secrets and intimate moments.

as you exchanged glances, the familiarity of your history danced between you two, like a delicate snowfall. you genuinely smile nonetheless at his words, "maybe we've been on the naughty list for too long," you teased, a hint of nostalgia in your voice.

dazai took a step closer, his hand reaching for yours, "and santa may not understand us, but perhaps we can rewrite our story," he suggests, his gaze holding a sincerity that transcended the mask of indifference he often wore, "yeah?"

surrounded by the symphony of the season, you can't help but feel a little emotional as a genuine smile tugs on your lips as you nod and whisper, "yeah."

the clock struck midnight, time reaches its crescendo, and the world around you both seemed to pause in reverence to the magic of christmas, and just like that, coincidentally beneath the mistletoe that was hanging on the street light, his arms wrap around you and pulls you to him.

dazai's lips then meets yours in a kiss that spoke in volumes—a reunion of past and present, a bridge between shared memories and the promise of a love rediscovered.

as you two pull away, breathless, the quiet acknowledgment between you two lingered in the cold air of christmas eve. snow falls as he leans in again, and dazai holds you in his embrace like he always does.

"merry christmas, my sweet girl. i love you," dazai softly whispers in your ear before planting a kiss on your cheek this time around.

𐙚₊ A.N.: advanced merry christmas from yours truly my lovelies ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ hope ya'll enjoy this christmas dazai fic i cooked in the kitchen—this is also my first time writing an exes to lovers fic, especially with dazai, so yeah !!

𐙚₊ TAGGING: @anqelically (here's ur food <3), && @dazaiyohane @lovedazai @osaemu (my dazai lover moots too ofc hehe, i think you guys will like this- ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ )

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai fluff #dazai fanfic #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #bsd dazai #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd scenarios #dazai x fem reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n

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cool-fancier · 6 months

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A Digital Dance of Hearts

Synopsis: In a fascinating Instagram Live, you and Bada intrigued fans with warmth and sincerity through humorous banter, passionate interactions, and true love.

Word count: 3k

In an array of your shared history with Bada, 2021 represented a significant chapter—a year that saw a silent dance transformed into a musical symphony of love.

Your paths had crossed in the most unexpected of ways, a collision of worlds within Seoul's thriving dance scene. Bada had been a source amidst the sea of dancers, a power that caught your attention from the first interaction.

The relationship between you and Bada was created during a dance showcase, an event filled with the energy of skill and creativity. She danced with a grace that appeared to defy gravity, her movements creating a story of passion and emotion that spoke to the audience.

After the show, among the abundance of praise and honours, fate drew you both into each other's circle. A conversation began, a meeting of minds that extended beyond the realm of dance moves and choreography.

Days passed into evenings, spent in the quiet corners of small cafes and on Seoul's bustling streets. Laughter became the soundtrack to your conversations, and the unspoken connection grew into a common understanding that extended beyond the dance floor.

The turning point arrived during a quiet evening stroll through the city park—a symphony of crickets accompanying your footsteps. Bada glanced to you with a vulnerability that connected with the silent wishes racing within your own heart, her eyes mirroring the glittering city lights.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you," she began, her voice a gentle melody in the peaceful atmosphere.

You stopped, the suspense evident in your stare as you encouraged her to continue.

"I feel something special between us, something beyond the dance studio," she admitted, her earnestness like a lighthouse in the dark. "I'd like to look into it further." Would you... be open to that?"

The question hovered in the air, tinged with hope and fear. Yet, your heart whispered a resounding 'yes' before your lips formed the words, sealing an unspoken agreement to embark on a journey of love and discovery together.

And so, in the glow of city lights, amidst the symphony of crickets, you and Bada began on a romance that grew with each shared moment and every whispered confession.

Fast ahead through the seasons, and your relationship with Bada became stronger—a tapestry of shared dreams, worthwhile conversations, and stolen moments amidst the bustling cityscape.

As the year progressed, the world around you changed, but your relationship remained a constant refuge—a safe haven for both love and creation.

It was a peaceful evening, with the lovely hues of sunset painting the sky, when an unexpected decision was made. You and Bada found yourselves on the rooftop of your favorite spot in the city—a secluded haven that overlooked the twinkling skyline.

The mood was ethereal, with the city's symphony humming distantly against the backdrop of a sunset-kissed sky. Bada's laughter, carried by the breeze, echoed like a mellifluous melody as she turned to you with a playful twinkle in her eyes.

"This feels like one of those movie moments, doesn't it?" Her voice was full of affection and love, she remarked.

You chuckled, the situation being suggestive of a romantic film scene. "Yes, it does. But it's even better because it's true."

The lighthearted banter gave way to a peaceful silence, the air thick with unspoken feelings. Bada's eyes, shimmering like orbs reflecting the dying sunshine, expressed volumes—a subtle invitation to embrace the unsaid feelings whirling between you.

Without words, she closed the distance between you, her gaze a gentle caress against your skin. As she held your face in her hands, the world appeared to stop, a subtle comfort in the delicate touch of her thumb against your cheek.

Lips met in a lovely, secure kiss amid the golden colours of a sunset-kissed sky—a union that echoed the symphony of feelings that had bloomed between you. It was a treasured moment, a beautiful dance of affection and longing sealed with the tenderness of a shared bond.

The city below continued its lovely hum, oblivious to the private scene happening on the rooftop sanctuary. Bada's sensitive touch, the softness of her lips on yours, spoke volumes about the love that bloomed in the quiet moments you spent.

Finally, as the kiss gently drew to a close, you and Bada remained in the embrace of the sunset's glow—a silent understanding lingering in the air, a promise of a love that continued to bloom with every passing moment.

— — — — — — —

Bada was the dancer who captured viewers with her beauty and grace, especially after her awe-inspiring journey on "Street Woman Fighter," a revolutionary experience that launched her into the spotlight.

Your relationship with Bada had been a hidden gem in the tale of her journey to popularity. Bada's rise had been nothing short of meteoric since her Street Woman Fighter days. Her grace, talent, and presence on the dance floor captivated people and earned her a cult of devoted followers who eagerly awaited every move she made, both on and off the stage.

Though fans were aware of your relationship with Bada through shared dancing videos and subtle indications on social media, it remained a matter of intrigue and interest. Fans yearned to see your worlds collide—the shared laughter, gentle glances, and love that formed the canvas of your relationship.

In response to the never-ending questions and outpourings of affection, the decision was taken to hold a joint Instagram Live session that would offer a glimpse into Bada the dancer's connected life as well as the hidden story of her love—of your love story.

You and Bada prepared for the live session with your hearts racing. Your apartment's cosy environment became the setting for this digital rendezvous—a venue that witnessed both the burning passion of dance and the emotional moments exchanged between the two of you.

"Okay, are we ready for this?" Bada asked, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm and a hint of fear.

You smiled, feeling a rush of love for her. "Absolutely! We've got this. Just be yourself, and everything will flow naturally."

Bada took a seat near you with a nod of agreement, the anticipation evident in the air. The screen filled with hearts and a rush of greetings from excited fans joining the stream as the 'Go Live' button was hit.

"Hey, everyone!" You greeted, your voice full of passion and love. "We're so thrilled to be here with you all today."

Bada chimed in, her unique charm shining through. "Hello, everyone!" This is something we've been looking forward to. Let's having a good time!"

The comment section erupted with a colorful array of emojis and messages, fans expressing their excitement at the prospect of spending time with you and Bada.

@DanceDreamers: Ahh, finally! So excited for this live session! 🌟

@BadaLoversClub: You both look amazing! Can't wait to hear your stories! 🥰

The questions started flowing in, each one containing the fans' interest and adoration—a monument to the influence the two of you had on their lives. You and Bada shared stories from your dance adventure, memories from the early days when your relationship developed among shared steps and synchronised moves.

As the talk progressed, you and Bada found yourselves in your own little realm, where witty banter, shared looks, and unsaid gestures built an image of your love for one other.

Lost in a playful back-and-forth about the best dance moves, you and Bada exchanged teasing remarks, chuckling at each other's antics. The comments section mirrored the audience's delight, cooing at the natural chemistry you both exuded.

@DanceMagic: Stop being so cute, my heart can't take it! 😭❤️

@BadaisBaby: Look at how big of a baby Bada is when she's with you! 😂👶

Occasionally, amidst the laughter and anecdotes, you and Bada would share a glance that spoke volumes—a silent language of love that needed no words.

Then, a fan's question caught your attention, causing a wave of nostalgia to wash over you.

@NostalgiaDreams: How did your first date go? Please share!

Your eyes met Bada's, a silent agreement to recount the memory that had etched itself into the tapestry of your relationship. You began to remember about that amazing day with a pleasant smile—a stroll through the city streets, impromptu dancing sessions in parks, and a shared dinner at an enticing café.

Bada's eyes shone with affection as you told the story, her laughter ringing across the room as she offered her own fun commentary to the tale.

The comment section transformed into a cascade of heart emojis and exclamations, fans expressing admiration for the story that felt like a scene from a romantic movie.

@RomanticSouls: This is the definition of a perfect date! 🌹✨"l

@LoveIsInTheAir: Can you two be any more adorable? I'm in tears! 😭💖

Moments of tenderness intertwined with playful banter, creating a beautiful symphony of love and camaraderie. There were instances where you and Bada, engrossed in your own conversation, momentarily forgot the live aspect of the stream—a testament to the comfort and familiarity you shared.

The comments overflowed with observations of your interactions.

@AdorableCouples: Are they even aware they're live? They're lost in their own world! 🥺💕

@SoftLoveVibes: Look at how they look at each other! My heart can't handle it! 😍❤️

The live session had already been a mix of playful banter and heartfelt exchanges, but there was always room for more interactions and conversations. You and Bada settled back, eager to engage with the fans and each other in a more personal manner.

A question popped up in the comments section, catching your eye.

@DanceEnthusiastforY/N: What's the most memorable dance routine you've performed together?

You glanced at Bada, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Oh, that's a tough one! Remember that performance at the charity event last year?"

Bada's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, yeah! That was incredible. The energy in the room was electric, and dancing with you felt like pure magic."

Fans flooded the comments with emojis and excited exclamations, expressing their excitement to hear more about the memorable performance.

@DanceLoversUnite: Tell us more! What made it so special?

Bada chuckled, reminiscing about the event. "Well, it was for a cause we both deeply care about, and the routine was a fusion of different styles. But the best part was dancing side by side with you. We were in perfect sync that day."

You nodded in agreement. "Definitely. It was one of those moments where everything just clicked, and the emotions poured into every movement."

The fans' reactions flooded in, their comments brimming with admiration for the connection you shared both on and off the dance floor.

As the conversation flowed seamlessly from one topic to another, there were moments of candidness between you and Bada—moments where the live session seemed to capture genuine snippets of your everyday interactions.

Bada leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey, remember the time you tried to teach me that intricate salsa move and I ended up stepping on your toes?"

You chuckled, the memory causing a playful twinkle in your eye. "How could I forget? It was a dance lesson turned into a comedy sketch!"

Fans chimed in with comments of their own, reminiscing about your shared dance moments and expressing their adoration for the playful camaraderie between you and Bada.

@DanceLover_23: You two are hilarious together! 😂❤️

@SalsaSquad: Even stepping on toes, you're still a perfect match! 🕺💃

In the midst of the playful banter, there were moments of tenderness—a glance shared between you and Bada that spoke volumes, a touch that lingered for an extra second, unnoticed by the rest but carrying an unspoken promise of affection.

Then, a question surfaced, shifting the tone to a more personal note.

@SoftHeartY/NBada: What's the one thing you admire the most about each other?

Your gaze softened as you turned to her. "You first."

She took a moment, your eyes reflecting genuine admiration. "I admire your strength, Y/N. Not just as a dancer, but as a person. Your resilience, your dedication to your craft, and your unwavering support for those you care about—it's truly inspiring."

Your cheeks tinted with a subtle blush, a soft smile gracing her features. "Thank you, love. That means a lot."

Encouraged by the heartfelt exchange, Bada returned the question. "And for me?"

You didn't hesitate. "Your passion, Bada. Your passion for dance, for life—it's infectious. The way you pour your heart into everything you do, it's something I've always admired."

The comments section filled with an outpouring of admiration and heart emojis, fans expressing their appreciation for the genuine affection shared between you and Bada.

@PassionUnleashed: My heart can't handle this! 😭❤️

@LoveAndDance: You two are goals! 🌟💕

The questions from fans ranged from dance-related inquiries to personal reflections, and the comment section buzzed with excitement as you and Bada delved deeper into your shared world.

A particularly endearing question popped up, catching both your attention.

@Soft4Love4Vibes: Fans often say Bada becomes a total baby when she's with you. Is that true? How do you guys balance the leader mode with Bebe and the adorable Bada we see with you?

You chuckled at the question, a knowing glance exchanged between you and Bada. "Ah, the infamous leader mode versus baby Bada. Care to explain, love?"

Bada grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, you see, with Bebe and the crew, I'm in full-on leader mode. It's all about coordinating, planning, and making sure everything runs smoothly. But when I'm with you, it's a different story. I get to drop the tough act and just be myself—a bit of a baby, as they say."

Fans flooded the comments section with playful remarks, expressing their affection for the duality they observed in Bada's personality.

@BabyBada: Bada, you're such a softie! 🍼💖

@LeadershipGoalsBebe: We love both leader Bada and baby Bada! 🌟👶

Bada, embracing the playful banter, continued, "I mean, who wouldn't want to be a bit of a baby when they're with someone as amazing, right?"

You couldn't help but laugh, the comment section filling with emojis of laughter and hearts.

@AdorableCouple: Can we just talk about how cute they are together? I'm melting! 😭❤️

As the conversation meandered through various topics, fans got a glimpse into the playful dynamics between you and Bada. There were moments where Bada couldn't resist stealing a glance at you, a subtle smile playing on her lips—a stark contrast to the leader mode she often embodied with Bebe and the crew.

A fan asked, @LoveGazing: What's your favorite inside joke or nickname you have for each other?

You shared a conspiratorial look with Bada before responding. "Well, we have this inside joke about Bada's 'secret talent'—her uncanny ability to quote almost any K-drama line on command."

Bada chuckled, shaking her head in mock embarrassment. "It's true. I might have a slight addiction to K-dramas, and now I've got a walking encyclopedia over here as a witness."

The fans, in on the joke, flooded the comments with laughter and playful emojis.

@DramaQueenBada: Guilty as charged! 😂🎬

As the Instagram Live session continued, there were moments where the two of you became lost in your own world, a shared glance turning into a cascade of laughter that seemed to momentarily forget the virtual audience.

@DreamyDuet: Are they even aware they're live? They're like in their own romantic bubble! 😍🌈

@LoveStruck: My heart! This is like a scene from a rom-com! ❤️✨

The playful banter and affectionate glances continued, each moment drawing fans deeper into the genuine connection you and Bada shared.

Then, a question sparked a more contemplative tone.

@SoulfulDance: What's the biggest lesson you've learned from each other, whether it's about dance or life in general?

Bada turned to you, her expression thoughtful. "You first, lovey."

You took a moment, reflecting on the profound lessons intertwined with your shared journey. "From Bada, I've learned the beauty of perseverance. Her dedication to her craft, the way she approaches challenges—it's incredibly inspiring. She taught me that passion, coupled with hard work, can create something truly extraordinary."

Bada's eyes softened, a genuine smile gracing her features. "And you've taught me the importance of balance. Life isn't just about dance and work; it's about finding joy in the simple moments, in shared laughter, and in building a life together. You've brought so much warmth and balance into my world."

The comment section transformed into a digital applause, fans expressing admiration for the wisdom and love shared between you and Bada.

@InspiringCouple: This is relationship goals right here! 🌟👩‍❤️‍👩

@WisdomInLove: Learning from each other—now that's the epitome of a healthy relationship! ❤️🙌"

As the Instagram Live session approached its conclusion, a sense of warmth and gratitude lingered in the digital space—a collective appreciation for the genuine moments, the laughter, and the glimpses into the beautiful love story you and Bada shared.

"Thank you all for joining us today!" you expressed, your voice carrying a blend of gratitude and genuine warmth. "This has been an incredible experience, and we can't wait to do it again. Your love means the world to us."

The screen filled with hearts and farewell messages, a digital send-off that echoed even after the live session ended. As the virtual space quietened, you and Bada shared a moment of quiet contentment, a reflection of the beautiful connection you shared—a connection that thrived in the midst of adoring fans, playful banter, and the warmth of a love that danced to the rhythm of its own melody.

Amidst the digital celebration of your relationship, you and Bada found solace in the comfort of each other's presence—a reminder of the beautiful connection that blossomed amidst the rhythms of dance and the whispers of shared dreams.

As the live session drew to a close, a collective sense of gratitude lingered—a mutual appreciation for the unwavering support and the chance to share a snippet of your world with the fans.

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bebe #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x oc #bada lee x y/n #bada lee imagines

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redtsundere-writes · 2 months

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Last Time | Nanami Kento

nanami kento x fem!reader

Sypnosis: Nanami and you have monthly getaways to see each other in secret. Contents: Forbidden/secret relationship. Modern AU. Smut/Angst. Praise kink. Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. +18 MDNI.. Word Count:1386 words. Author's Note: So I tried doing something with fewer dialogues. Hope you guys like it.

His eyes roamed the height of the building. A grand, majestic hotel standing tall amidst a bustling cityscape. Its exterior was a striking blend of modern elegance and timeless architecture. The hotel's facade was adorned with ornate details, featuring large windows that reflect the sky and the surrounding city lights, creating a captivating play of light and shadow. His lips curled in a smile in excitement as he made his way to the inside.

Shiny marble floors, bright chandeliers and fancy furniture surrounded him. It was your turn to pick the hotel where you would see each other after a long month, and you made a wonderful choice, as always. His picks weren’t bad, but yours were better by far. He really liked the one you picked by the beach last getaway. It was a wonderful oasis with a bubbly jacuzzi, piña colada scent candles and the smoothest sheets he has ever felt. A five-star experience indeed.

Up the elevator, he messaged you that he was on his way to the suite you picked. This was a fun twist to the kind of rooms you pick. They are often elegant rooms with great views and amazing king beds, but a grand suite? You were going all out this time. This must be a special occasion.

These small getaways were perfect for both. Nanami was a busy stockbroker with a stressed lifestyle, and you were an impatient teacher at a private high school full of rich kids. This was a very much needed pause from reality so you could relax and relieve each other in a small cocoon of pleasure away from everyone. This last part was very important for both.

The elevator door opened. Nanami followed the numbers to get to the designated room along with the fancy wallpaper and works of art. He tied his tie tightly, made sure his blonde hair looked well, and his beige suit didn’t have any wrinkles. His knuckles knocked on the Grand Suite door, which announced itself with a nice silver plaque under the peephole. You answered the door in a white silk robe. You looked stunning as always.

“Come on in,” you greeted with a smile as always. Nanami looked as handsome as always. You stepped aside so he could come in. Once you close the door, you hug him tight. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, he was stripping away his suit and ripping the white cloth from your body. You led him to the bed while kissing him in a chaotic tango routine to not lose a single second of your precious time together.

His lips roamed around your body, slowly and steady, taking his sweet time but making sure he did a good job pleasing you. You loved how his lips felt against your sensitive nipples, the teasing and sucking felt like heaven on earth. His hands grabbed you tight by the arch of your back to pull you closer to his built body. He loved every curve in his body, it was like a rollercoaster for his finger.

His cock was hard and big as usual, twitching in excitement to be inside of you after a long time no see. Last week, you canceled the getaway because you had an important school event to attend, so you rescheduled. He thrust in you without losing a beat. Your soft moans and grunts mixed with soft music playing on the TV filled the passionate room in a lust symphony. He was in love with your body, feeling the need to open up a church to worship it every single day. Every time he admired your naked body, he believed god is a woman.

You rode his majestic cock without losing a beat. His arms hugged you tight while his hands gripped your ass to make it bounce at his desired rhythm. Your skin slapping against his at the perfect rhythm was motivation enough to not break the satisfying cycle. Nanami got close to your neck to leave a small hickey on your collarbone, sneaky enough so you could hide it easily but public enough so you could see it every time you showered.

Your bodies were in synchronization, they were perfect for each other. It was too bad you couldn’t just go outside and have normal dates, but this was fine, as long you were only his. Nanami pounded against your pussy with a fire of youth he forgot he ever had. It was powerful and deep, you were about to climax, your poor kitty couldn’t take it anymore. That wonderful feeling came around when you felt that thick milky consistency that you love to have in your insides. With some huffing and puffing, Nanami pulled out and flopped next to you on bed.

Eyes closed, wrapped in each other's arms and playing with his perfect blonde hair, you were talking about each other’s week and how was your family. Nanami was your father’s old friend from college that appeared in your life three years ago. He just showed himself at a BBQ gathering at your parent’s house. Your dad was really excited to introduce his little girl to his friend to show him how fast time has passed since their good days in college, you never imagined you would catch feelings for him after talking about work and life during that evening.

Nanami kissed your forehead tenderly. He wanted to tell his old pal that he loved his daughter more than anything in the world, but you were so afraid he would take it the wrong way so you decided to hide it and have casual getaways. You always kissed his forehead back, but this time was different, you didn’t reciprocate the kiss. Something was going on.

After some nagging and demanding coming from Nanami, you sighed as you decided to spill the beans. There was another man in your life, a new hot coworker that you met recently. There was no important school event last week, only a date with the lovely man. Nanami was in utter shock, he couldn’t believe you picked another man over him. You defended yourself saying that you weren’t in a formal relationship and this whole situation was more of a friends benefits thing.

“I am a grown woman, Nanami. I need someone who actually takes me seriously. I hope you like this, but this was our last time,” you said before yanking yourself from his arms to go take a shower. He laid there without understanding how everything happened so fast. A gulp went down his throat trying to control his wild emotions from lashing out. He was naked, cold and sad, the worst thing a person can experience.

So this was it? A quick fuck and you're done? Nanami dressed himself to get going, he couldn’t stay much longer in the room. He opened the door, but he regretted it. If this was the last time you were going to see each other, he would do it like a gentleman, with a proper handshake. He closed the door and a crying sound reached his ears.

His heart sank as he heard you cry out loud, thinking you were alone in the suite. Your eyes poured out all the love you felt for that man, who you think left already. He was perfect for you. You loved how he tucked your hair behind your hair, how gentle he was around you and how he made you feel so special every time you see each other. You wanted to be with him, but you were tired of feeling hidden.

After dressing up, you finally got out of the bathroom with puffy eyes. Nanami wrapped his arms around your body in a surprise attack. You let out a sob after the realization that he didn’t leave. Your arms wrapped around his body in a tight hug, you didn’t want to let him go again. Your hearts were building up again in the sacred embrace. Nanami hid his face on your neck so you wouldn’t see him cry. You whisper “I am sorry”s in each other's ears before kissing in desperation.

“I don’t want this to be our last time. I want to last a lifetime,” he whispered before kissing your forehead, which you kissed back.

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simpingforstardew · 5 days

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250 feet below

pairing: sdv sebastian x reader

synopsis: you were sick of living in such a bleak city, living such a bleak life; so, too, was sebastian. a drabble based off a vivid dream i had recently.

warnings: angst. profane language. allusion to suicide / sucidial ideation. please stay safe. ♡

a/n: this occurs pre-canon. i liked the idea of the farmer having already met a villiager of pelican town during their life in Zuzu city... something something red string of fate.

word count: 1.3k

Zuzu isn’t a city where people live. Millions toil tirelessly, burdened by exorbitant rents and the weight of overpriced necessities. But in all your years of life, you can’t recall the last time you saw a denizen of Zuzu laugh, or create art, or spread kindness. In fact, you can confidently say that not one of the 8.3 million souls that surround you in this city is truly alive.

In your youth, you navigated the city’s labyrinthine alleys, searching for signs of life—a spontaneous burst of laughter, a splash of colour on a drab wall, a moment of genuine connection between strangers. All you found were weary faces, the heavy silence of resignation, and a pervasive sense of disillusionment. It’s as if the pulse of vitality has been suffocated by the corporate grind.

But now, you walk with intention as the cold chill of the night air settles deep into your bones. Night has descended like a heavy cloak, shrouding the landscape in a veil of darkness. Above, the moon rises like a sentinel amidst a sea of shimmering stars, their watchful gaze seeming to follow your every step through the dense forest on the edge of Zuzu. Amid this celestial spectacle, the forest comes alive with nocturnal symphonies—the hoots of owls echoing through the dense canopy, while the occasional rustle of leaves and snapping of twigs beneath your hiking boots punctuate the stillness. Each step forward is a battle against exhaustion and fatigue, blisters forming on your feet from hours of relentless trekking. Hunger gnaws at your stomach, a constant companion on this solitary journey through the darkness.

Your favourite hoodie drapes over your shoulders, a gift from an old friend whose name now eludes you. Your backpack, light and inconsequential, occasionally slips from your shoulder as you trudge forward. Ahead looms your final destination: a concrete suspension bridge, a vast monumental structure steeped in the history of your home town—a history you always wanted to learn. Too late now, you think.

As you make your way across the bridge, your gaze falls upon a figure perched on its rail, dwarfed by the towering cityscape beyond. The river below churns restlessly as they gaze pointedly into the water, the distant hum of passing cars blending with the rhythmic crash of waves 250 feet below.

“Don’t,” the stranger’s voice, firm and resolute, cuts through the night as you approach. They make no attempt to turn towards you; instead, he takes a final drag of his cigarette and drops the rest in the river beneath.

“…Don’t what?” you respond, pausing in your steps. The stranger chews his lips, his grip on the railing firm. The silence is unbearable.

“Get to know me, ask questions, stop me. Just... don’t bother trying anything.”

“Oh, I… wasn’t planning on it,” you reply, your tone casual as you shrug off your bag, letting it fall to the cold concrete below.

A shaky exhale escapes the stranger’s lips; you watch the mist rise into the cold air in the moonlight. Leaning back against the bridge’s railing, the stranger’s eyes meet yours, searching for something you can’t quite decipher. There’s a vulnerability in their gaze, a flicker of uncertainty that belies the firmness of their earlier words.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, and take the opportunity to ease the remaining tension out of your hands and arms, stretching your fingers until the joints no longer ache. The stranger seems content enough to let you have your quiet, though you catch him watching you from the corner of his eye occasionally.

“Want a snack?” you offer, pulling out a half-eaten family-pack of cookies from your bag.

The stranger’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Wh— No, I… Are you serious right now?”

“Extremely,” you say, biting into a cookie before extending the pack towards the stranger, “You’ve never thought about your last meal before? Always thought mine would be an actual meal… but cookies aren’t that bad, I guess.”

As you speak, you can’t help but notice the tension in the stranger’s posture. Their grip on the railing doesn’t loosen, although they do tentatively accept a cookie from the pack.

“Did my mom send you to get me or something?” he sniffs, breaking you out of your daze; his voice tired and hoarse. His suspicion should bother you, but at this point you’re far too tired to feel much of anything.

“No dude, I told you— I’m just waiting for my turn.” The motor traffic behind you continues to speed by, radios and horns blaring in a Dopplerian cacophony. Although their headlights silhouette your form, the man beside you is perfectly illuminated, his face stark against the darkness. Behind him, the full moon casts a halo around his face.

He is your age, if not a bit younger. His exhaustion is evident in bloodshot eyes, monolid and green; his sunken cheeks exaggerate the lifelessness of his pale skin.

You’re the first to break eye-contact, letting out a soft chuckle as you fetch your phone from your pockets, “Just a coincidence, I guess.”

He looks at you with a curious stare, like a cat studying a moving shadow. No one in this city has ever looked out for him the same way you are; It’s peculiar how alone one can be surrounded by as many people as Zuzu city contains.

Your earphones are now plugged in; and lost in your melody of favourite song, you can’t see the awe of his gaze. Moments pass in this newfound comfort— be it from mutual understanding, or a fear of disruption— before you turn to face the stranger once more.

“Did you wanna listen with me? Just for a song or two.” You look towards him as you sit down on the bridge, offering up your left earphone.

You aren’t naive, you recognize what you’re doing. Hell, you’ve been doing it your entire life. You’re stalling. Desperately finding excuses to delay what you fear will be the inevitable: one way or another, the stranger will leave. You’ll be alone again.

But right now you’re not alone, and that’s good enough.

The stranger finally swings his legs over the rail of the bridge, and plants his feet firmly on the concrete of the superstructure. He sits besides you, timidly puts an earphone in his left ear, and cries.

As the minutes stretch into hours, the initial tension between you and the stranger dissolves into a shared silence, punctuated only by the soft strains of music. The reasons for your presence on the bridge fade into obscurity, replaced by a sense of companionship born from the serendipity of the moment. With each passing song, the darkness of the night gradually gives way to the gentle hues of dawn.

Neither of you notice the transition, until your phone dies.

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” The stranger’s voice wavers, a fragile whisper amidst the fading light. You turn to him, a smile softening your features, before rising with a languid stretch.

“Stranger things have happened. Why wouldn’t our paths cross again?” Your words carry a gentle reassurance as you gather your belongings, mentally preparing for another day at the JojaCo. office.

“Well, I mean… I’m moving soon, somewhere out of Zuzu— My mom is probably packing up all my shit right now so we can move in with her new boyfriend.” Weariness etches lines of exhaustion on the stranger’s face as he rubs sleep from his eyes.

“Still, we’ll see each other again one day,” you smile, shielding your eyes from the rising sunlight, “I just know it.”

#sdv #sdv x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #stardew valley fanfic #sdv sebastian x y/n #sdv sebastian x you #sdv fanfic #sdv sebastian fanfic #stardew valley sebastian #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic #fanfiction

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rabbitcruiser · 10 months

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Reconstruction: Tennessee became the first U.S. state to be readmitted to the Union following the American Civil War on July 24, 1866.

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cherubiyeon · 11 months

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she had the world | ive jang wonyoung x female reader

amidst the bustling cityscape of seoul, y/n, an inquisitive traveller from jeju, stumbles upon an art gallery.

✩ warnings. angst, mentions of affairs, strangers to friends with benefits, painter! wonyoung au, unrequited feelings, angst with unhappy ending

✩ word count. ~3k words

✩ playing﹒ she had the world [panic! at the disco]

their first encounter was serendipitous, as if the universe itself conspired to bring them together. y/n stood before wonyoung's painting, her eyes locked onto the colors that seemed to whisper untold secrets.

with a nervous yet determined heart, wonyoung approached, her voice barely above a whisper as she introduced herself as the artist. "hey, um— i'm wonyoung—the artist behind this painting. is there anything you'd... like to ask about this painting? or some feedback would be nice!"

y/n's smile was like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, illuminating her face with a warmth that sent shivers down wonyoung's spine. "wonyoung, what a beautiful name," y/n replied, her voice soft and melodic. "your art speaks to me on a level i can't quite explain. it's as if each brushstroke holds a piece of your soul."

wonyoung blushed, feeling a mixture of bashfulness and exhilaration. "thank you," she stammered. "your words mean so much to me! i-i put a lot of emotion into my art, and to know that it resonates with someone else... is the greatest compliment."

y/n extended her hand, a gesture of friendship that felt like an invitation into her world. "i'm y/n. i'm new to this city from jeju and i came to this gallery looking for something that could speak to my soul. i think i found it in your art."

as they shook hands, an electrifying connection surged through wonyoung's fingertips, leaving her breathless with anticipation. she couldn't shake the feeling that their meeting was no mere coincidence, but a tapestry woven by the hands of fate itself. the bustling gallery around them faded into a mere blur as they delved into a passionate discussion about art, life, and the inexplicable forces that intertwined their paths.

y/n's eyes, like pools of liquid amber, held wonyoung captive, drawing her deeper into their depths. each word that flowed from y/n's lips was a symphony, each laugh a melody that resonated within wonyoung's soul. she hung onto every syllable, cherishing the way y/n's voice danced in the air, a sweet serenade that intoxicated her senses.

days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as their friendship blossomed amidst the city's backdrop. wonyoung found herself yearning for the stolen moments, the stolen glances that held a world of unspoken longing. she reveled in the small gestures—a brush of their hands as they walked side by side, a lingering touch that sent shivers down her spine.

but as the days stretched into a delicate tapestry of shared experiences, wonyoung couldn't help but feel the weight of unrequited love settle upon her shoulders. the tenderness in y/n's gaze, the warmth in her smile—it was a language that wonyoung longed to decipher, a love that she yearned to be reciprocated.

in the quiet corners of her heart, wonyoung weaved dreams of what could be. she imagined stolen kisses beneath the moonlit sky, whispered promises in the hushed sanctuary of their shared secrets. she envisioned a future where their worlds would collide, their lives intertwined like brushstrokes on a canvas.

the seasons danced on, their footsteps echoing in tandem with the rhythm of wonyoung's heart. spring blossomed, painting the city with hues of pastel dreams, while autumn whispered secrets of change in the crisp air. through it all, wonyoung remained by y/n's side, a silent witness to the ebbs and flows of their intertwined lives.

'twas a cool autumn evening, as the leaves rustled underfoot, y/n and wonyoung found themselves strolling along the riverbank. the water shimmered like liquid silver under the moon's tender gaze, mirroring the shimmer of unspoken emotions that swirled between them.

y/n leaned against the railing, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "isn't it beautiful, wonyoung?" she spoke, her voice carrying a hint of wonder. wonyoung continued in staring at the oblivious woman. "it is," wonyoung replied softly, her heart fluttering like a thousand butterflies in her chest.

as they strolled along the cobblestone path, wonyoung's heart beat a frenzied rhythm, her every word and touch infused with unspoken longing. "y/n... there's something i've been wanting to tell you," wonyoung ventured, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

y/n turned toward her, eyes brimming with curiosity. "what is it, wonyoung-ie?" she asked, her tone a gentle caress against wonyoung's fragile heart.

summoning her courage, wonyoung whispered, "these stolen moments we share... they mean more to me than i can express. you've become the compass that guides my every step, the light that illuminates the darkest corners of my soul."

a gentle breeze carried her words, intermingling with the symphony of rustling leaves. y/n's smile remained soft, the flicker of recognition barely registering in her eyes. "wonyoung, you're such an incredible friend. i treasure our bond more than you know," y/n replied, her words painting a painful melody that echoed within wonyoung's chest.

yet hope, a cruel mistress, refused to relinquish its grip on wonyoung's heart. she convinced herself that y/n's response held a glimmer of reciprocation, a silent invitation into the depths of an affair woven with stolen glances and moments of intimacy.

their encounters became clandestine meetings, hidden from prying eyes, their shared secrets whispered in the sanctity of moonlit gardens. wonyoung, her heart awash with both joy and torment, surrendered herself to the rapture of their stolen kisses, cherishing each stolen touch as if it were the last drop of an elixir she craved.

but in the shadows of their affair, y/n remained oblivious to the depth of wonyoung's love. her affectionate gestures, once interpreted as signs of reciprocation, became tainted with the innocence of friendship, blurring the boundaries between what was real and what wonyoung desperately wished to be.

wonyoung sat in her studio, surrounded by the remnants of her artistic endeavors. the room was filled with the scent of paint and the soft strains of music that mingled with her thoughts. she brushed a streak of vibrant red onto the canvas, her movements betraying the turmoil within her.

yunjin, her wise and caring friend, entered the room, her presence offering a fleeting solace. she glanced at wonyoung's creation, a mix of vibrant colors and raw emotion.

she raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "hey there, picasso. pouring your heart out on the canvas again?"

Wonyoung offered a half-smile, appreciating Yunjin's attempt at making the atmosphere more lighter. "more like trying to make sense of the chaos inside," she replied, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

yunjin settled down on a nearby stool, her eyes filled with concern. "you've been a little distant lately. is everything okay?" wonyoung took a deep breath, but remained silent. "... it's about that y/n girl again, huh?"

Wonyoung took a deep breath, hesitating before she spoke her truth. "It's Y/N. I can't stop thinking about her, Yunjin. Every time she smiles at me or brushes against my hand, it's like fireworks exploding in my heart. I want to tell her how I feel, but I'm scared of what might happen."

yunjin leaned forward, her expression serious yet understanding. "look, wonyoung-ah, i get that love can be a rollercoaster of emotions. but before you go pouring your heart out, consider if you're ready for the consequences. what if things change between you two?"

wonyoung sighed, her gaze fixed on her trembling hands. "i know it's a risk, but i can't keep this bottled up any longer. it's eating me alive."

yunjin reached out, placing a reassuring hand on wonyoung's shoulder. "i'm not saying you shouldn't go for it, but just be prepared for any outcome. and remember, your friendship is precious. you don't want to lose that."

wonyoung nodded, appreciating yunjin's straightforward advice. "you're right. i just wish i could know what she feels without putting our friendship on the line."

wonyoung nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken desires. she watched as yunjin left the studio, leaving her alone with her thoughts. the silence enveloped her, and she found herself drawn to the canvas that stood before her—a painting of y/n.

the colors on the canvas danced with an ethereal grace, capturing the essence of y/n's spirit. wonyoung had poured her heart into every stroke, every brush of paint. in the painting, y/n's eyes were pools of stardust, a captivating glimpse into the universe she hid within. her lips curved into a soft smile that held a thousand untold stories. wonyoung had painstakingly spun the stars on her fingernails, each one a testament to the boundless dreams she saw in y/n's eyes. yet, despite the beauty she had immortalized on the canvas, it couldn't bring her the happiness she yearned for.

days turned into weeks, and wonyoung found herself lost in the depths of her emotions, yearning for a love that existed only in the fragments of her dreams. every stolen glance, every brush of their hands became a lifeline, fueling the fire that consumed her heart. but y/n remained blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing within wonyoung's soul, her gestures of friendship shrouded in innocence.

one evening, as the sun painted the sky in hues of fiery orange, wonyoung's phone buzzed, interrupting the solitude of her studio. a message from y/n flickered on the screen, inviting her to meet at their favorite cafe. hope surged within wonyoung's chest, intermingled with an undercurrent of nervous anticipation. little did she know that fate had prepared a cruel twist in the tale.

arriving at the cafe, the air crackled with a mixture of warmth and tension. wonyoung's heart pounded against her ribcage, its erratic rhythm echoing the storm raging within her. she spotted y/n, a vision of serenity amidst the bustling crowd, her smile a flicker of sunlight breaking through the clouds.

"hey," y/n greeted softly, her eyes holding a myriad of emotions as they met wonyoung's gaze.

wonyoung returned the greeting, her voice trembling slightly. "hey. what did you want to talk about?"

y/n's gaze flickered, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "i've been doing a lot of thinking, wonyoung. and i think it's time we stop... this."

wonyoung's breath caught in her throat, her world spiraling into chaos. she fought to steady herself, clinging to the last vestiges of hope. "stop what?"

y/n's eyes filled with regret, the weight of her words pressing heavily upon them. "our affair. i care about you deeply, but i can't ignore the fact that there's someone else in my life now."

time seemed to stand still as wonyoung's heart shattered into a million fractured pieces. the colors of the cafe faded, leaving behind a monochrome reality. she forced a smile, her voice strained as she tried to mask the devastation that threatened to consume her.

"someone else?" wonyoung repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to acknowledge the truth.

y/n nodded, her gaze shifting to the floor. "his name is yunhan. we've been spending time together, and i think it's time to give our relationship a chance."

wonyoung's eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall. she clenched her fists, the pain radiating through her like a searing flame. it felt as if the world had conspired against her, weaving a tapestry of longing and heartbreak.

"i'm sorry," y/n murmured, her hand reaching out hesitantly, only to be met with wonyoung's withdrawal. "i never meant to hurt you."

wonyoung forced a smile, her voice tinged with a mixture of acceptance and resignation. "it's not your fault, y/n. we... can't force ourselves to love or not love someone.."

as the café's ambiance whispered tales of love and loss, wonyoung felt a silent plea escape her lips, carried away by the currents of time. she knew she had to release the hold on her unrequited love, to let it drift away like a leaf on the wind. it was a bittersweet acceptance, for in surrendering her heart, she set herself free from the chains of longing, even as the ache lingered deep within her soul.

the days that followed y/n's revelation were etched with a sorrow that clung to wonyoung's every breath. the weight of her unrequited love bore down upon her like an invisible burden, suffocating the vibrant hues of her existence. the unfinished painting of y/n, a testament to the fractured fragments of their temporary affair, seemed to mock her from its perch upon the easel.

one evening, in the depths of her despair, wonyoung stood before the painting, her hands trembling with a mixture of anguish and rage. the colors that once whispered secrets of love now appeared to taunt her, their vibrant dance a cruel reminder of the shattered dreams that lay in ruins. she contemplated tearing the canvas apart, obliterating the memories that held her captive. yet, in the end, she couldn't bring herself to do it. the painting held too much sentimental value, encapsulating a chapter of her life she couldn't entirely let go of.

with a sigh that echoed with resignation, wonyoung picked up her brush and faced the canvas. as her strokes danced across the surface, she poured her heartache into every brushstroke, the raw emotion bleeding onto the space. it was an act of defiance, a silent rebellion against the pain that threatened to consume her. she channeled her sorrow into art, using the colors as a language to express what words couldn't convey.

her fingers traced the contours of y/n's face, a mixture of sadness and longing clouding her eyes. "why couldn't you see how much i loved you?" she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken words and shattered dreams.

years passed, and wonyoung's perseverance bore fruit. the painting, born from the depths of her despair, gained recognition in the art world. its haunting beauty touched the souls of those who beheld it, a silent testament to the pain and longing embedded within its layers. wonyoung's name became synonymous with a tragic love story, her art an expression of the human experience.

one fateful day, amidst the hallowed halls of a museum, wonyoung found herself drawn to an ethereal presence. her gaze fell upon a child, their innocent eyes fixed upon the painting that had become her legacy. the child's fascination mirrored her own, a reflection of the profound connection art had the power to forge.

wonyoung's heart skipped a beat as her eyes fell upon the child. in that fleeting moment, she saw the ghost of y/n in the innocent gaze of the young girl. a bittersweet smile adorned wonyoung's lips as she nodded in understanding.

lost in a moment of bittersweet contemplation, wonyoung's reverie was interrupted by the child's mother, her voice tinged with worry. "haerin, where are you?" she called out, searching the vast space.

startled, wonyoung turned to face the source of the voice, and in that instant, time seemed to stand still. standing before her was y/n, a ghost from the past, now adorned with the grace of motherhood. their eyes locked, the unspoken words of their shared history hanging heavy in the air.

"mommy! mommy! look! this painting looks like you!" little haerin pointed at wonyoung's painting as y/n carried the small girl.

in that poignant reunion, the weight of their unfulfilled love reverberated through the silence. wonyoung's heart trembled, torn between the joy of seeing y/n once more and the painful reminder of what they could never have.

y/n approached, her voice tender and filled with regret. "wonyoung, it's been so long," she murmured, her eyes brimming with emotions left unsaid.

wonyoung's voice quivered, her heartache blending with a fragile glimmer of hope. "yes, it has. i never thought i'd see you again."

y/n's gaze shifted to the painting, her expression a wistful mix of nostalgia and sorrow. "your art has touched so many lives, wonyoung. it's a testament to the beauty that exists within your soul."

wonyoung's heart tightened at y/n's words, her voice heavy with unspoken pain. "do you know, y/n? this painting... it's you."

y/n's eyes widened, disbelief and longing flickering within them. "me? but... how?"

wonyoung's voice quivered, laden with the weight of unrequited love. "every stroke, every color... they are fragments of memories, of the love that bloomed within my heart. you were my muse, my inspiration. and yet, you never knew."

tears welled in y/n's eyes as she reached out to touch the canvas, as if trying to grasp the intangible emotions that permeated the artwork. "i never realized... i never knew."

wonyoung's heart shattered into a thousand pieces, her voice filled with aching vulnerability. "i wanted to tell you, to show you how much you meant to me. but fear held me back, and our paths diverged. now, all i have left are these brushstrokes, a portrait of a love that was never spoken."

y/n's voice quivered with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "wonyoung, i wish things could have been different. but life has its own way of guiding us. i've found happiness in a different path, one that doesn't intertwine with yours."

wonyoung's tears mingled with the colors of her masterpiece as she whispered, "i'm glad... i'm glad you've found happiness, even if it's not with me."

the weight of their unspoken emotions hung heavily in the air, the gallery a silent witness to the tragedy of their unfulfilled love. time seemed to stand still as they stood there, caught between the echoes of what could have been and the reality of their separate lives.

with a trembling breath, wonyoung turned away, her heart splintered but resolute. the pain of letting go mingled with the knowledge that their paths were meant to diverge, like two shooting stars blazing across the night sky before fading into obscurity.

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hajimakitten · 2 months

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𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙎𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙀. | OT7 BTS reverse harem

author's notes: hey, guys! it's been a long time since i wrote something on here, so i'm super excited to get a full story going. i have to say that i'm ready to see what happens between ryley and bts. who do you think is going to try their hardest to make things work first?

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

The Return of Bangtan | Chapter One

Under the neon glow of Seoul's cityscape, the air was buzzing with an electric anticipation that could only mean one thing: BTS was back. After the members had dutifully served their time in the military, the city was ripe with chatter and speculation about their grand return to the stage. In a sprawling dance studio tucked away in the great HYBE building, seven silhouettes moved with a kinetic energy that belied their time away from the spotlight. Beads of sweat glistened on their foreheads as they ran through the choreography for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. The mirrored walls reflected their precise movements, a symphony of popping joints and sharp intakes of breath; they were the epitome of synchrony. "Okay, let's take five," Namjoon called out, his voice a mixture of authority and warmth. The leader of the group always knew just how to tread the line between discipline and comfort. The members collapsed onto the floor, a tangle of limbs and laughter. Jin, ever the oldest and self-proclaimed 'Worldwide Handsome', sprawled out dramatically, claiming he was too old for such intense practice sessions. Taehyung laughed, nudging Jin with his foot, while Jimin playfully mimicked Jin's dramatics, causing a ripple of laughter to pass through the group. Yoongi, eyes closed, was lost in the music playing in his earbuds, tapping out a beat on his knee that was probably meant for their next hit song. Hoseok, the group's sunshine, handed out bottles of water with a bright smile, while Jungkook flexed his muscles and complained about how the military had made him too buff for some of his older clothes. In the midst of all this, their fearless leader stood by the windows, peering out into the city. "We've got to make this comeback concert the best one yet," he mused. "It's not just about the music; it's about the message. It's about the connection." They all knew the weight of his words. This wasn't just another concert; it was a reunion with their ARMY, a testament to their growth, and a declaration that they were still here, still strong. As the evening waned, the group rehearsed their vocals, their voices harmonizing in a way that felt like coming home. The new single was a bold mix of genres, a testament to their evolution as artists and individuals. It was a track that promised to get their fans' hearts racing. The days flew by, a blur of rehearsals, wardrobe fittings, and press interviews. Before they knew it, the night of the comeback concert had arrived. The air backstage was a cocktail of nerves and excitement. The group huddled together, their hands stacked in the middle of the circle. "Bangtan! Bangtan! Bang-bang-tan!" they chanted, their rallying cry since their debut days, a reminder of the journey they had embarked on together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ryley could hardly contain her excitement as she rifled through her closet, searching for the perfect outfit to wear to the BTS concert. Samantha, her best friend and partner in all things Bangtan, sat on the bed behind her, giggling at Ryley's frenzied energy. "Ryley, calm down! You're going to have a blast no matter what you wear," Samantha teased, tossing a pillow at her friend. "I know, I know," Ryley said, trying to rein in her enthusiasm. "But this is BTS we're talking about! I have to look perfect!" After what felt like hours of deliberation and outfit changes, Ryley finally settled on a trendy ensemble that she hoped would catch the eye of her bias, Namjoon. She twirled in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection. As they made their way to the concert venue, Ryley couldn't stop jokingly talking about how she and BTS were soulmates. Samantha rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile at her friend's infectious excitement. "You know, Ry, I think you might be taking things a bit too far," Samantha joked. Ryley shrugged, undeterred. "I just really feel like I'm meant to be here. Y'know?" Samantha chuckled. "Sure, sure. Just don't faint when you lock eyes with Namjoon, okay?" Ryley playfully nudged her friend as they joined the throngs of fans streaming into the concert venue. The energy was electric, and Ryley felt her heart race with anticipation. As the night progressed and BTS took the stage, Ryley got lucky with a space close to the stage and managed to lock eyes with Namjoon, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her. She could see the intensity in his gaze, the passion in his performance, and she found herself captivated by the depth of his presence. But as much as she felt drawn to him, she couldn't quite grasp the meaning of it all. Was this what soulmates were supposed to feel like? Or was it just the magic of being in the presence of her favorite idol? Lost in a whirlwind of emotions and music, Ryley danced and sang along with the rest of the crowd, feeling like she was part of something bigger than herself. And as the concert came to a close, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this connection with Namjoon than she had ever imagined.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The concert was a whirlwind of pyrotechnics, heart-stopping dance breaks, and soulful ballads that left the crowd screaming for more. The energy in the stadium was palpable, a living, breathing entity that fed the members' performance. It was during their encore, the stage awash with soft purple light, that Namjoon's gaze drifted over the sea of Army Bombs. And there, in the crowd, his eyes landed on Ryley. She wasn't particularly different from the rest at first glance, her hair a cascade of waves, her hands up in the air, moving to the rhythm of the music. But there was something about her, an inexplicable pull that had him pausing mid-verse. Jin, noticing the hiccup, followed Namjoon's gaze and nudged Yoongi, pointing subtly. One by one, each member's attention was drawn to Ryley, and with each pair of eyes that found her, the same unspoken thought reverberated through their minds: 'Soulmate.' The music swelled around them, but in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the connection that crackled like static in the space between the stage and the crowd. She was just another face in a sea of thousands, but to BTS, she was a beacon, shining with a light that seemed to whisper of destiny. There was something about her, a feeling that she was meant to be part of their journey, a piece of a puzzle they didn't know was missing.

As the final notes of the song rang out and the stadium erupted in applause, they exchanged looks, each member's expression a mix of awe and confusion. "Did you all—" Jin began backstage, only to be met with a collective nod. "Yeah, we did," Yoongi confirmed, the ever-stoic rapper showing a rare flicker of curiosity. "Guys, we can't just all have a soulmate in the crowd," Hoseok laughed, trying to dispel the tension, even as his heart raced with the same bewildering emotion. Jimin simply smiled, a quiet acknowledgment of the shared experience, while Taehyung mused aloud, "But what if we do?" Jungkook, ever the pragmatic one, chimed in, "We'll probably never see her again, so let's not get carried away." Yet, as they left the stage, the image of Ryley lingered, a mysterious beacon in the night that refused to fade away. The members of BTS were no strangers to strange occurrences—after all, their entire career had been a series of serendipitous events—but this felt different.

This felt personal.

#bts #bangtan #bts army #bts fanfic #bts fic #bangtan sonyeondan #hajimakitten #bts fluff #bts angst #polyamory #poly!ot7 #poly ot7 #bts poly au #bts x oc

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hearts4hughes · 2 months

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ECHOES OF LOVE | MARK ESTAPA

mark estapa x fem!reader

summary: in which reader confesses her love for her best friend— oops.

warnings: angst w/ happy ending, reader and mark both being blinded by love, nothing else!!

author note: my first writing after what feels like forever. oh my goddddd!! i have months of ideas and thoughts for more writings on the way. i haven’t done first person writing in forever, but i honestly love it!!

The University of Michigan had been my dream school since freshman orientation; Umich felt made for me. Yet, it wasn’t the only thing capturing my heart during those college years. Environmental Science class introduced me to Mark, and it wasn’t just about the subject matter. Mark, a walking ray of sunshine, entered a room like a force of nature, captivating everyone with his vibrant energy. Engaging conversations and lively class discussions made Mark the embodiment of an unforgettable college experience. It only took him two classes to claim the seat next to me, uninvited but eventually charming his way into my world.

Amidst my journey at Umich and with Mark, an opportunity to study abroad in Italy emerged. Excitement coursed through my veins, but it was tinged with a bittersweet undercurrent. Studying abroad meant a semester without seeing Mark, and my heart ached at the realization. The palpable truth lingered—I had feelings for him.

The day before leaving for Italy was spent entirely with Mark. We recounted memories, gossiped, and held each other. An emotional undercurrent hinted at something more than platonic love. In a moment of uncertainty and sadness, I confessed my love for Mark. The silence that followed my confession echoed in my ears as he stared at me with wide eyes. I had read the situation wrong, and tears brimmed in my eyes as I stormed out of his dorm.

The next morning, I vowed to leave the hurt and agony in Michigan and treat Italy as a fresh start. Italy became a sanctuary, a place where I could do as I pleased without worrying about the boy who rejected my love proposal. Now, sitting in the small, claustrophobic plane, dread overshadowed my return to the real world. Thoughts of making a scene to ground the plane lingered, as four months of studying abroad in Italy felt like pure bliss—warm weather, Italian boys, and zero drama. However, the sweet sounds of Taylor Swift couldn’t coax the cacophony of my racing thoughts. How to make a 12-hour flight even longer?

MARK: Hope Italy treated you well. We need to talk.

My hands trembled as I reread the message, the digital words carrying a weight that mirrored the turbulence within me. The plane had landed mere minutes ago, and as much as I dreaded my return to Michigan, a strange sense of comfort enveloped me the moment I stepped off the aircraft. As I navigated through the airport’s hustle, Mark’s message echoed in my mind, creating a symphony of worry and anticipation.

The journey from the airport to my dorm was a blur, the cityscape outside the window a mere backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. The prospect of facing Mark, unresolved emotions lingering like a specter, fueled a mixture of anxiety and a glimmer of hope.

He wants to let me know how he feels. Is that good or bad? What if he found someone else? What if he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore? What if… I mentally stop myself from spiraling down that certain rabbit hole.

With a heavy heart, I approached my dorm building. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit room adorned with posters and decorations. The message from Mark burned brightly on my phone, demanding acknowledgment. The empty bed next to mine indicated my roommate Miley’s absence. As much as I missed her, part of me was relieved to be alone. I read the note on my desk written in her neat handwriting. She wouldn’t be home for the rest of the night. Good.

MARK: Where are you? We need to talk.

The urgency in his words heightened the tension, and I hesitated, almost responding, but I couldn't muster up the courage to press send.

MARK: Y/N, if you're trying to ghost me, at least turn your read receipts off.

Shit. I silently cursed the advanced technology of iPhones.

Y/N: What do you want, Mark?

MARK: To talk, we need to talk.

Y/N: Oh, now you want to talk. Seems convenient.

MARK: I'm serious, Y/N.

I scoffed as I read his final text message. Who's he to say when I need to talk to him? I could ignore him for the rest of my life, and it wouldn't even bother me—scratch that; I'd miss him more and more every day.

Y/N: Fine. Let's meet at Logan’s around 7:00.

Y/N: Seriously, Mark, don't make me waste my time.

I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease that settled in my stomach. Logan’s, the pizza place around the corner, wasn’t fancy, but it held a certain charm. Memories of late-night pizza runs with Mark flooded my mind.

I grab my phone, checking the time for the fifth time in ten minutes. Everything feels wrong, from the headache-inducing bright lights to the fact that Mark is ten minutes late. The air inside Logan’s is thick with anticipation, and I can’t escape the nagging thoughts that something significant is about to happen.

The door chimes as Mark finally enters, a disheveled look on his face. I try to read his expression, but his eyes remain elusive. We exchange awkward greetings, and the atmosphere tightens with every passing second.

“Hi,” Mark says, gesturing to an empty booth. The weight of his words hangs in the air as I comply. The vinyl seats are cold against my skin, and the tension in the room is palpable.

Mark fidgets with his hands, avoiding eye contact. I want to break the silence, to demand answers, but fear keeps me silent. Finally, he takes a deep breath, meeting my gaze.

“I didn’t handle your confession well,” he admits, his voice strained. “I panicked, and I’m sorry.”

His words hang in the air, and my heart races with a mix of relief and frustration. The apology doesn’t erase the hurt, but it opens a door to understanding.

“Mark, I know what I did was stupid. I ruined a perfectly fine friendship for my selfish feelings,” I sighed, shame laced my words.

“Y/N,”

“No, Mark,” I interrupted. “You don’t need to pity me, I get it.”

“Wait, let me finish.” He spoke, reaching over and grabbing my hands in his. “Y/N, I didn’t handle what you said well because I was scared. I was scared because I’ve never felt so much for a person.” He huffs, eyes filled with sincerity and care. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you ever since I saw you. I can’t even put into words how you make me feel. These four months without you have been pure torture. Ask any of the boys, I’ve been a complete and utter mess.”

His admission hangs in the air, and I feel a whirlwind of emotions—shock, joy, and a lingering sense of pain. The rollercoaster of feelings leaves me momentarily speechless.

“Mark, why didn’t you say something before I left for Italy?” I finally manage to utter, my voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration.

“I was scared too, Y/N. Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way or that it would ruin our friendship,” Mark explains, his gaze unwavering. “But the truth is, I can’t imagine my life without you. I couldn’t let this continue without being honest about my feelings.”

“Mark, I… I don’t know what to say,” I admit, still processing the whirlwind of emotions. “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you, Y/N/N,” he brought his hand up to your face, caressing your cheek. “I’m stuck with you forever, whether you like it or not.”

I giggled, tears of joy spilling over and flooding my face. “I like that idea.”

#hearts4hughes #nora’s writings 💐#mark estapa x reader #mark estapa #umich hockey #mark estapa imagine

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dmitriene · 9 months

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— racing hearts.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «got a ride that's smoother than a limousine»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌«can you handle the curves? can you run all the lights?»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌«if you can, baby boy, then we can go all night»

summary: you both run into the same events every year and it always ends the same way, but tonight has changed everything tremendously. content: biker! carlos oliveira x biker! fem reader tags: comfort, teasing, slightly rude carlos, smut, nsfw, unprotected p in v, fingering, marking, pet names. author's note: had to make something spicy for the spiciest boy in the world, so here is the first work with carlos! enjoy your reading) 🏍️ (18+ warning)

The heart of the city hummed with electrified energy as the sun dipped below the horizon painting the cityscape a warm golden hue, the evening air was fresh and refreshing, it smelled of moisture from a recent rain, the heartbeat of the city throbbed in the streets, a symphony of distant conversations, car horns and rhythmic footsteps.

Neon signs adorned the facades of buildings, throwing bright splashes of color onto the sidewalks, the lights danced and flickered, creating an almost surreal atmosphere, contrasting with the gathering dusk, the reflection of these neon lights on the wet pavement created a fabulous shimmering effect that gave the surroundings a sense of magic.

As the racers and spectators began to gather, the atmosphere filled with anticipation, the city center turned into a makeshift arena where excitement and competition merged, the distant hum of revving engines echoing through the streets, punctuated by bursts of laughter, animated conversation, and the occasional burst of music from a nearby bar.

The smells of street food hung in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of wet asphalt, food vendors lined the sidewalks, offering a delicious variety of flavors to the hungry crowd, the mixture of flavors — savory, sweet and spicy — adding an extra layer of sensual richness to the evening.

Crowds began to gather, forming a colorful mosaic of faces, each exuding a unique combination of excitement, curiosity and enthusiasm, friends trading stories and laughing, their camaraderie testifying to the community that had formed around this annual event, cameras and smartphones were raised ready to capture the breathtaking moments that are about to unfold.

The city lights, now fully lit against the darkening sky, cast a warm and inviting glow that engulfed riders and spectators alike, tall buildings, each with its own history and secrets, seemed to come to life in the evening light, their architectural details highlighted by the play of shadows and illuminations.

As the last rays of the sun faded over the horizon, the city turned into a vibrant, bustling stage, the inevitable start of the race hung in the air like a charged promise, uniting everyone with a shared sense of joy, the evening took on a life of its own, a celebration of rivalry, camaraderie, and the boundless possibilities of a cityscape at dusk.

The soft thump of raindrops continued to fall from the trees from time to time, creating a soothing atmosphere, reaching the designated starting point you stopped your motorcycle, the roar of the engine subsided as you surveyed the area.

The midtown area was a mixture of old and new — historical buildings side by side with modern skyscrapers, this varied backdrop added a unique charm to the upcoming race, an urban battlefield where past and present coexisted.

Taking a moment to appreciate the atmosphere, you dismounted, the distant roar of the engines and the excited murmurs of the riders filling the air — a harmonious combination of anticipation and camaraderie, the energy was palpable, seeping into every corner of the street.

With focused determination, you set about preparing the bike for the race.

You unbuttoned your leather jacket to reveal a black jersey and fastened your helmet in place, every move deliberate, a ritual that signified your commitment to the race, you checked your tire pressures, ran your fingers over the smooth curves of your bike, and adjusted the handlebars to your liking.

Amidst the quiet focus, a group of people in the distance caught your attention, your gaze rested on Carlos Oliveira, surrounded by his friends and a few enthusiastic fans, his casual confidence and the way he effortlessly attracted attention was hard to miss.

You couldn't help but smirk, your competitive spirit was rising as you watched this scene, it seemed that wherever Carlos went, he was accompanied by magnetic energy — an energy that involved the two of you in countless races and exciting moments, with a playful gleam in your eyes, you leaned against the bike, crossed your arms and called him.

— «Carlos! So, have you finally decided to show up?» your voice was shot through with a teasing tone that matched the ongoing banter between the two of you.

Carlos turned, his smile flashing as he met your eyes — «Ah, i was wondering when you were coming, couldn't resist the temptation to compete with me, are you?»

You laughed, and an understanding spark flashed in your eyes — «You know me too well, i just wanted to make sure you didn't chicken out»

Carlos raised an eyebrow, feigning resentment — «Chicken out? Please, i was born for this»

The exchange of biting phrases was light hearted, a mixture of rivalry and mutual respect, continuing to joke, you could not help but notice the admiring glances of Carlos' fans, their presence only strengthened your determination to prove yourself on the race track, to show that you are more than just a competitor.

With a final smirk, you straightened up and gave Carlos a defiant look — «I think we'll see who comes out on top, right?»

Carlos' laughter echoed through the air as he playfully saluted you — «May the best biker win)»

As you turned your attention back to your bike, the excitement of the upcoming race surged, the midtown area transformed into a battlefield of anticipation, a place where the excitement of the competition and the race are about to collide in a symphony of speed and determination.

᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

The atmosphere of the race was electrified, charged with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, the night air was cool and refreshing, the lingering smell of rain made everything clean and invigorating, empty trails stretched ahead, their asphalt glittering in the soft light of street lamps, the city lights flickered in the distance, casting off warm and an alluring glow against the night sky.

As the riders lined up, their bikes revved with a raucous roar, the tension in the air was palpable, the energy was both intense and serene, a combination of competitive spirit and the soothing coolness after rain, a light breeze promising adventure, and the smell of damp earth mingling with the faint scent of gasoline.

The absence of other vehicles on the road added to the feeling of loneliness and intimacy, creating a space where the riders could focus solely on the excitement of the race, the distant rumble of the city and the rhythmic purr of the engines merged into a symphony of speed and anticipation, the stillness of the night was broken from time to time by the cheerful chatter between the riders, their camaraderie broke through the tense concentration.

Carlos Oliveira started his powerful motorcycle, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his heart pounding not only from adrenaline, but also from the anticipation of meeting his most ferocious rival — you, a mysterious, but in his opinion charming biker.

You, a seasoned biker with a confident air, were grinning as you straddled your sleek bike, looking up at Carlos, the playful rivalry between the two of you was no secret, your teasing jokes echoing through the air as the engines roared around you.

— «Hey Carlos! Will you be able to keep up this time, or will i have it easier with you?» you shouted with a mischievous gleam in your eyes.

Carlos chuckled, his smile matched your challenge — «Oh dear, you're going to eat my dust without even noticing it»

With a wave of the flag, the race began, engines roared across the asphalt, and you and Carlos raced past the starting line, side by side you exchanged competitive glances, the wind blew your hair, the miles flew by unnoticed as you made your way through traffic, every daring maneuver met with a response from Carlos.

As the race progressed, your closeness to each other allowed you to exchange playful lines — «Be careful, estimada, i wouldn't want you to cry when i win» teased Carlos over the roar of the engines.

You grinned as you leaned closer with your bike — «Don't be too self confident, handsome, you can just eat your words»

᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

The headlights of motorcycles pierced the darkness, creating streaks of light that painted a mesmerizing picture on the wet pavement, empty tracks allowed you to fully immerse yourself in the race, the outside world disappeared when the riders went beyond their limits.

Alternating stretches of open road and tight turns required quick reflexes and unwavering concentration, city lights served as beacons, guiding racers through turns and turns with their warm and soothing light, the coolness of the night air caressed the skin, contrasting with the warmth of the engines and adrenaline excitement.

As the riders moved forward, the rivalry and competition showed up in the way they maneuvered their bikes daring overtakes, tight corners, and skillful accelerations — yet, despite fierce competition, there was a camaraderie at the heart of racing that united their shared passion for the road.

The soft thump of raindrops still clinging to the leaves added a soothing rhythm to the symphony of the race, reminiscent of the recent downpour that had cleansed the city, the scent of petrichor mingled with the smell of burning rubber and exhaust fumes, creating a unique scent that hung in the air.

In this night race, desert tracks, distant city lights, cool weather after rain and general enthusiasm created an unforgettable atmosphere, it was a delicate balance between the serenity of the night and the unbridled energy of the race, a dance between competition and connection that played out under the gaze of the stars and the radiant cityscape.

As the race came to life, the competition became fierce, every biker took the turns with precision and determination, Carlos Oliveira and you were always shoulder to shoulder, every daring maneuver met with an equally daring response.

The city landscape unfolded wider before you, the city lights illuminated your path as you pushed your motorcycle to the limit, the applause from the audience and the distant hum of the engines was a symphony that accompanied the beating heart, the race was more than just a competition — it was a dance of skill, strategy and desire to win.

The stretch of road leading to the finish line drew closer, anticipation building in your chest, you knew it was the moment to make your move, with a burst of determination you shifted gear and accelerated, the wind rushed past as you approached Carlos.

The finish line was within sight and you could feel the power of your bike beneath you, responding to every command, with a burst of speed you rushed forward, the world blurred around you as you overtook Carlos, leaving him behind in a trail of dust and adrenaline.

The moment was surreal, a split-second triumph that resonated deep within you, the crowd's applause seemed distant as you crossed the finish line and victory sank into you, you did it — you beat Carlos Oliveira, a biker whose skill and reputation were legendary.

When you slowed down on your motorcycle, delight mixed with a sense of awe and disbelief, you proved yourself not only as a worthy opponent, but also as a person who could rise to the occasion and win, the finish line was not just a marker — it was a testament to your dedication and skill.

Carlos stopped next to you, surprise and admiration mixed in his grin — «Well, damn me, you really did it»

You laughed, still out of breath, adrenaline coursing through your veins — «I told you not to underestimate me»

Carlos shook his head, a certain admiration in his eyes — «Well, well, looks like you've got some surprises up your sleeve»

The realization that you had won, that you had surpassed Carlos Oliveira, the biker that you kind of admired and competed with for so long, filled you with a sense of accomplishment, the rivalry between you pushed you to new heights, and in that moment you felt even more deep connection with the world of racing.

᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

After an exciting race and your unexpected victory, the energy of the evening was still coursing through your veins as you found yourself alone with Carlos on the side of a remote night highway, as the race ended and the drivers dispersed, the bustling city atmosphere was left behind, giving way to the quiet solitude of the open road.

The distant lights of the city twinkled like stars on the horizon, casting a soft light on the surroundings, the cool night air wrapping you in a soothing embrace, in stark contrast to the intensity of the race, your heart was still pounding not only from the adrenaline of victory, but from the newfound intimacy between you and Carlos.

As you leaned against the bike, you caught Carlos eyes lingering on you, his usually confident demeanor seemed relaxed, a slight vulnerability hidden behind his playful appearance, the rivalry that fueled your relationship turned into something deeper, a connection that none of you could deny.

The moment stretched out, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words, and then, with a hint of a smile, Carlos approached you, his steps barely audible on the pavement, he stood exactly in front of you, his presence was soothing in the stillness of the night.

— «You surprised me there» acknowledged Carlos in a soft whisper — «I didn't expect you to beat me»

You chuckled, triumph and humility mixed in your tone — «Well, it's not always a matter of who's the fastest, right?»

Carlos nodded, his eyes did not flinch — «No, it's not»

— «And now what?» you asked, curiosity and invitation mixed in your voice.

Carlos stepped closer, his eyes did not flinch, apart from a slight smirk on his lips — «So, shall we celebrate your victory?»

The moonlight cast a soft glow as he closed the distance, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze, the world around you seemingly vanishing as you looked into his bottomless brown eyes.

The tension between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that pulled you closer, his lips met yours sharply in a slow, gentle kiss, a careful exploration of the emotions that were building up beneath the surface, the touch was soft, unhurried, evidence of the vulnerability you both shared in that moment.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you seemed to disappear even deeper, the sound of passing cars and the distant rumble of the highway became a distant echo drowned out by the racing heartbeat, your fingers found their way to the collar of his jacket, the skin went cold from your touch as you pulled him closer, forcing him to spread his arms at your sides and pinch him near the bike.

Bending down, Carlos's lips touched the sensitive skin of your neck, his hot breath touches your ear, the stubble on his chin adds roughness to caresses, contrasting with the softness of his touch, his kisses are hungry and filled with desire, each of which leaves a trace of heat.

His hands roam your body in the most possessive way, squeezing your hips and pulling you closer to him, the roar of the motorcycle engine serving as the backdrop to the passionate encounter, heightening the intensity of the moment.

Carlos's lips find their way to your collarbone leaving a path of hot kisses on your skin, his touch is possessive, his hunger shows in every movement, the world around you is lost as you both penetrate the tension of the moment, the only sounds are the roar of the engine and the sighs of pleasure that escape from your lips.

Carlos' lips curve into a predatory smile as he hears your sigh of pleasure, the sound of your voice laced with desire only fuels his own arousal, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his touch becoming even more possessive.

He runs his lips along the curve of your neck, leaving behind a trail of hot kisses, his voice, rough and filled with lust, touches your ear.

— «Just like that, estimada» he mutters, his hot breath against your skin — «Let go and yield to me»

His fingers dig into your thighs, his touch borders on slight lustful pain, he enjoys the feeling of your body reacting to his dominance, your moans and sighs, which drive him even more into a state of arousal.

His lips sink to your collarbone, his teeth lightly touch your skin as he marks you as his own, his movements become more insistent, his desire for you consumes his every thought.

— «C-carlos, w-what if someone will see us?» you mumble confusedly and slightly unsure, although you have long felt a throb between your legs

Suddenly, Carlos's grip on your thighs tightens as he hears your concern, he pauses for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, the urgency in his touch subsides a bit as he considers your words.

His voice, filled with a mixture of lust and confidence, reaches your ears.

— «Don't worry, querida» he mutters in a low and rough voice — «No one will see us here, this road is deserted, and i am sure of it»

Carlos's hand, resting on the fly of your jeans, moves purposefully, his fingers deftly unbuttoning it, slowly lowering them down, revealing a teasing glimpse of your skin underneath.

He leans in, his lips touching the shell of your ear, his voice like a whisper.

— «I want you» he exhales, his tone filled with unbridled desire — «And i will not deny myself the pleasure of having you wherever we are»

His words are a mixture of domination and need, his actions are unwavering, he knows the risks involved, but the intensity of the moment outweighs any fears.

Carlos's fingers slide under the fabric of your jeans, his touch kindles a fire within you, his movements are deliberate, his touches are firm and skillful as he explores the depths of your desire.

His touch on your clothed clit brings out a low growl of arousal from deep within his chest, the feel of your body responding to his touch fueling his desire even more.

He continues to explore, his fingers tracing tantalizing patterns on the underpants that separate him from your most intimate parts, each touch precise and deliberate, designed to give you maximum pleasure.

His voice, filled with a mixture of dominance and desire, reaches your ears in a low, husky tone.

— «Does it feel good, sweetheart?» he mutters, his hot breath against your skin — «Tell me how much you want it»

Carlos's thumb gently presses against your clad clit, his touch teasingly close to where you crave it most, while his other hand still grips your thigh tightly, as if tying it to him.

He watches you intently, his deep brown eyes filled with a hunger that matches your own, as the anticipation of what's to come hangs heavily in the air, heightening the intensity of the moment.

— «P-please, Carlos..» you suddenly whine for yourself, fidgeting slightly in place and trying to feel more friction

Carlos's lips curve into a wicked smile as he hears your desperate plea, the sound of your whining only fueling the fire inside him further, pushing him closer to the edge of his own desire.

He lets go of your thigh, letting his hand slide under the fabric of your jeans, his fingers touching your hot body, feeling the wetness that has already accumulated between your thighs.

Carlos's touch is firm and confident as he begins to explore your most sensitive areas, his fingers dancing along your folds, teasing and testing your limits as he watches your reaction closely, his eyes filled with a mixture of domination and satisfaction.

— «You want that, don't you?» he growls, his voice oozing with arousal — «You want me to give you what you crave, cariño»

Carlos's thumb presses down on your clit, rubbing it in slow, circular motions that send waves of pleasure through your body, his other fingers go deeper, looking for the special spot that will drive you crazy.

Without warning, he plunges two fingers into your wetness, filling you completely, his pace is tireless, his movements are skillful and purposeful, he enjoys the sounds of your moans and sighs, the way your body trembles at his touch.

— «H-hmmgh! f-fuck.. pl-please, need something more.. more heavy..» you whined, throwing your head back, almost cumming from two fingers inserted inside your cunt

Carlos's eyes narrow in a mixture of amusement and satisfaction as he hears your desperate plea for more, your insatiable desire matching his own, fueling his need to please you even more.

He removes his fingers from your cunt, evoking a fleeting sense of loss, but his dominant nature demands that he give you what you crave.

Carlos's hand squeezes your waist in a quick motion and settles you comfortably on the leather seat, without hesitation he unzips his pants, releasing his hardened cock from the restrictions, he presses against your entrance teasingly, with the tip touching your wetness and folds.

— «Is that what you want?» he growls, and his voice is filled with unbridled desire — «My cock filling you completely?»

Carlos's grip on your waist tightens as he plunges into you in one swift motion, impaling you with his cock, the feeling of him filling you completely sends a wave of pleasure through your entire body.

His pace is tireless, his movements are strong and intense, each push is calculated to hit all the right points, bringing you closer to the abyss of pleasure.

— «F-fumgh! so g-good!» you moaned, arching dangerously in your spine and squeezing your legs around his waist to keep the balance, moaning uncontrollably and whining at the rolling feeling of heat in the lower abdomen.

His hand on your waist tightens as he feels you arching, your moans of pleasure fueling his own arousal, he enjoys the feel of your legs wrapping around his waist, the need for balance only reinforcing the raw connection between you.

Carlos continues his ruthless thrusts, each one penetrating deeper and affecting the most pleasant points inside your cunt, the sound of your moans and the feel of your body trembling next to him, only increase his own pleasure.

The feeling of heat in the lower abdomen is reflected in the growing pressure inside him, he feels that you are close to the edge, and intends to lead you there.

He leans in, his lips touching your ear as he speaks in a low, husky tone.

— «Come for me, f-fuckin' cum, mi encantadora» he growls, his voice filled with a mixture of authority and desire — «I want to feel how you unravel around me»

At the same time, Carlos's thrusts become even more intense, his pace relentless as he pushes you both to the limit of ecstasy.

The grip on your waist tightens as Carlos feels the clear signs of your imminent release, he feels your body tense, the walls around his cock tense, and it only pushes him closer to his own climax.

A hoarse moan escapes his lips as he feels the waves of pleasure run through your body, the feel of your muscles squeezing him tightly drives him crazy as well.

He enters you a few more times, overcoming the waves of your orgasm before he finds his own way out, with a low guttural growl he pours his cum into you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his own pleasure.

For a brief moment, the world around you disappears as you both float on waves of ecstasy, Carlos holding you tightly against him, your bodies pressing against each other as you both catch your breath.

— «I think i've found a new favorite way to spend my nights» he murmured low, leaving a smeared kiss on your temple

You laughed softly as you ran your fingers along the lines of the bike — «Who knew that rivalry could lead to this?»

Carlos leaned over in your body further, his voice was a low mutter — «Maybe there's more to us than just competing on the road, espléndido»

translate: estimada, cariño — dear / querita — darling / mi encantadora — my charming / espléndido — gorgeous.

please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me.

reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

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