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wdym by "no fem! reader"? no FEMinine reader? or no FEMale reader? cuz most of the time "fem! reader" means female reader, and you write masc readers which are still females so idk. or maybe the mascs you're writing are not females and i got it wrong??? 😭😭
from most of what i’ve seen, fem!reader just means feminine. i’m a masc lesbian as stated in my intro so i thought it made sense since the next rule was “no male!readers”?? this might just be my thought process because i’ve never seen any different so idk!
a scholarship dancer with a past injury enters an elite academy and slowly wins over a powerful, intimidating dancer through kindness, trust, and shared passion for dance.
word count: 4.4k
masterlist
the academy noticed everything.
it noticed the way your shoes creased at the toe before anyone else’s did. it noticed who got picked up in black cars and who waited for the late bus. it noticed who laughed too loud at the right people’s jokes and who stayed quiet when the wrong people walked by.
it noticed the color of the ties.
red for legacy.
red for money.
red for the families who funded wings of the building.
blue for scholarship.
the colors were part of the uniform. technically equal. officially meaningless. but everyone knew what they meant.
red moved differently through the halls.
blue moved carefully.
the academy noticed that too.
it did not notice kindness.
or maybe it did, and just didn’t think it mattered.
you arrived in the middle of october, when the leaves outside the glass walls were already turning brittle and orange. transfers were rare. scholarship transfers were rarer. the administration introduced you quickly in morning assembly, voice smooth and careful, emphasizing your “exceptional talent” like it was a justification.
a few heads tilted.
a few people glanced at the tie at your collar.
blue.
the word scholarship hung heavier than talent ever could.
you felt it in the way conversations dipped when you passed. in the polite smiles that never reached anyone’s eyes. in the way a few students scanned your clothes, your bag, your posture, assessing whether you would last.
you didn’t shrink.
you also didn’t posture.
you just existed.
you learned the layout of the dance wing first. studio a had the best lighting in the morning. studio c had a slight echo that made counts feel sharper. the marley floors were softer near the mirrors where years of turns had worn patterns into them.
you paid attention.
KATSEYE paid attention too.
they weren’t officially anything. no club. no title. but everyone knew. they moved together through the halls like gravity worked differently around them.
every single one of them wore red ties.
they didn’t need to announce their presence. the color did it for them.
at the center was Daniela.
Daniela had the kind of control people mistook for ease. she knew when to speak and when silence would cut deeper. she could tilt her head during critique and make someone unravel mid combination. she had learned early that perfection wasn’t optional here, it was currency.
and she had spent years becoming fluent.
her tie was always perfectly straight. deep red against the crisp white shirt. immaculate.
she noticed you on your third day.
advanced contemporary technique. center floor. across the mirror.
blue tie.
you weren’t flashy. you didn’t force extensions higher than they needed to be. you didn’t whip your head around for drama. your movement was grounded, clean, deliberate. you didn’t look at anyone else for cues. you listened to the music like it was a private conversation.
Daniela watched you through the reflection.
interesting, she thought. but not impressive enough to matter.
that changed when the instructor asked for volunteers to demonstrate a phrase.
no one moved.
Daniela almost did, but something in your posture shifted first. subtle. confident. not seeking permission.
you stepped forward.
the room adjusted.
the blue tie moved to the center of the floor.
you danced the phrase without embellishment. you didn’t perform for the mirror. you didn’t perform for the instructor. you just executed it the way it was meant to be executed, like the choreography itself deserved respect.
when you finished, there was a second of silence.
Daniela felt it like a splinter.
she lifted her hand.
“the second contraction was late,” she said evenly. “it threw off the musicality.”
it was precise enough to sound helpful. sharp enough to land.
everyone looked at you.
everyone looked at the blue tie.
you inhaled once. nodded. “you’re right. i felt that too.”
no defensiveness. no embarrassment.
you reset and did it again, this time tighter, cleaner.
Daniela’s mouth pressed into a thin line.
most people either bristled or shrank when corrected by her. you did neither. you simply adjusted.
that was the first crack.
after class, she brushed past you deliberately, shoulder grazing yours harder than necessary. your notebook slipped from your hand.
you crouched to pick it up. then you noticed her pencil had rolled away.
you picked that up too.
“here,” you said, offering it.
she stared at you.
“…thanks.”
“no problem.”
your blue tie shifted slightly when you stood.
you held her gaze for a beat. not challenging. not submissive. just level.
then you walked away.
Daniela hated that she couldn’t categorize you.
over the next week, she tested you in small ways.
cutting in front of you in line for the locker room.
correcting you mid stretch in a tone that implied incompetence.
laughing softly when someone else made a joke about transfers not lasting long.
each time, you reacted the same way.
you moved aside without resentment.
you said, “good catch,” when she pointed something out.
you didn’t laugh at the joke, but you didn’t storm off either.
it unsettled her.
one afternoon, during a grueling three hour dance rehearsal for the winter showcase, the choreographer pushed everyone hard. the combination was intricate. fast footwork layered under fluid upper body phrasing.
Daniela thrived in that environment. she loved control. loved the sharp clarity of hitting every count.
you were placed two lines behind her.
she could feel you even when she couldn’t see you.
not because you were sloppy.
because you weren’t.
your blue tie flickered in the mirror when the choreography turned.
you didn’t try to outshine anyone. you didn’t mark lazily either. you matched the energy of the room without fighting it.
when a formation shift went wrong and Daniela nearly collided with you, you adjusted first, stepping back smoothly so the spacing corrected itself.
after the run, she turned sharply.
“if you’re unsure, just mark,” she said. her voice carried just enough.
the room stilled.
red ties. blue ties. everyone listening.
you met her eyes.
“i wasn’t unsure,” you replied calmly. “i gave you space.”
a flicker passed across her face.
annoyance. something else.
“i don’t need space,” she said.
“okay.”
just that.
okay.
no argument. no sarcasm.
it felt like losing.
later, during water break, Sophia muttered near you, “you don’t have to try so hard, you know.”
you tilted your head slightly. “i’m not.”
it wasn’t defensive.
it was simple.
Daniela watched from across the room, something tight and uncomfortable settling under her ribs.
she had expected you to either crumble or fight back.
you did neither.
instead, you did something worse.
you were kind.
not overly. not performatively.
just consistently.
when Daniela forgot her towel one day and cursed under her breath, you handed her yours without making eye contact.
“i have another,” you said before she could refuse.
when she landed a jump slightly off balance but recovered quickly, you murmured, “nice save,” as you passed.
when she sneezed during warm up, you said bless you automatically, like it wasn’t loaded.
she found herself hesitating before snapping at you sometimes.
and she hated that too.
the academy thrived on reaction. alliances. rivalries. visible tension.
you offered none.
instead, you treated her like she was simply another person in the room.
not a red tie.
not untouchable.
equal.
that word lodged in her throat.
equal.
she had spent years separating herself from that.
and yet every time your blue tie appeared in the mirror behind her during rehearsal, calm and steady, it felt like the hierarchy tilted just a little.
not because you challenged it.
because you didn’t care enough to play by it.
and Daniela had no idea what to do with that.
the academy noticed everything.
so when something shifted, even slightly, it noticed that too.
it noticed that the blue tie started appearing closer to the front line during rehearsal formations. it noticed that instructors corrected you less often, not because they were going easier on you but because there was less to correct.
it noticed Daniela watching you in the mirrors more often.
and it noticed that Daniela never said your name.
it was always “you.”
“you’re late on the third count.”
“you’re too far left.”
“you fixed the contraction.”
sharp. controlled. always neutral enough to pass as critique.
but people still watched.
the tie colors made it impossible not to.
red ties gathered together at lunch tables and locker room benches. red ties got invited to donor mixers and weekend showcases. red ties moved through the halls like the academy itself belonged to them.
blue ties stayed near the edges.
blue ties were grateful.
blue ties lasted as long as they could.
you didn’t seem to follow that rule either.
one afternoon, after technique class, a group of red tie students lingered near the lockers.
you were kneeling by the bench, rewrapping tape around your ankle. methodical. focused. after your ankle twinged slightly as you stepped onto the marley floor, the familiar ache from an old injury reminding you to move carefully.
a year ago, a bad landing had torn ligaments, and though it had healed, the memory lingered in quiet pulses whenever you pushed yourself too far.
you wrapped it in thin tape that hugged your skin, almost invisible beneath your sock, a small precaution against the demands of the academy.
it didn’t slow you down. you had learned long ago that caution didn’t mean weakness. it meant listening. surviving. coming back stronger. and here, in this studio of red ties and polished steps, you were ready to do exactly that.
“how long do transfers usually last?” one of them asked lightly.
another shrugged. “depends how fast they burn out.”
someone laughed.
you didn’t look up.
Daniela heard it from the hallway before she saw it.
she stopped just out of sight.
“i heard the last scholarship transfer lasted two months,” someone said.
“three,” another corrected. “before they realized they couldn’t keep up.”
a pause.
then someone added quietly, “or afford to.”
more laughter.
your hands paused for half a second on the tape.
then you kept wrapping.
Daniela stepped into the room.
the laughter stopped instantly.
red ties shifted.
“practice room closes in ten,” she said flatly.
no one questioned it. they gathered their bags quickly, conversations dissolving into awkward silence as they left.
no one mentioned that the room actually closed in forty minutes.
you finished tying the tape around your ankle and finally looked up.
Daniela stood across from you, arms crossed.
“you didn’t have to do that,” you said.
“do what.”
“scare them off.”
“they weren’t scared.”
you raised an eyebrow slightly.
Daniela exhaled through her nose. irritated.
“you’re supposed to defend yourself,” she said.
“from what.”
“that.”
you shrugged. “they were bored.”
“they were insulting you.”
“yeah.”
she stared at you.
“and you’re fine with that?”
you tilted your head.
“i’m used to people assuming things,” you said calmly. “it usually says more about them than me.”
Daniela didn’t like how reasonable that sounded.
“you could at least push back,” she muttered.
“why?”
“because that’s how things work here.”
you thought about that.
“maybe that’s the problem.”
again with that.
again with the quiet answers that landed harder than arguments.
Daniela looked away first.
“you should ice that ankle,” she said.
“i will.”
you started packing your bag.
for a moment, the locker room was silent except for the rustle of fabric and the distant sound of music from another studio.
then you spoke again.
“thanks.”
Daniela frowned. “for what.”
“for earlier.”
“i didn’t do it for you.”
“okay.”
that word again.
okay.
simple acceptance. no digging deeper.
it left her strangely unsettled.
rehearsal the next day was worse than usual.
the winter showcase was only a week away now. nerves were raw. mistakes felt heavier.
during a fast transition, a dancer slipped slightly out of formation.
Daniela corrected them sharply.
“watch your spacing.”
the dancer nodded quickly.
the next run through went smoother.
but when the sequence ended, the choreographer pointed toward the center.
“again. with partners.”
a ripple moved through the group.
names were called.
Daniela’s.
yours.
the room went quiet in a different way this time.
you stepped forward like it was normal.
Daniela crossed the floor, red tie straight against her collar.
the partnering phrase required close timing. weight shifts. lifts.
trust.
“don’t hesitate,” Daniela said under her breath as the music started.
“i won’t.”
the first lift came quickly.
you caught her easily.
not roughly. not cautiously.
steady.
she felt it immediately.
you weren’t overthinking it.
you just trusted the movement.
they repeated the phrase.
then again.
each time smoother.
by the fourth run, the tension in the room had faded into something else.
focus.
when the music stopped, the choreographer nodded once.
“good. keep that.”
Daniela stepped back.
your hands dropped immediately, giving her space.
respectful.
not lingering.
she hated that she noticed that too.
as the class dispersed, someone from the back muttered quietly, “guess blue ties can keep up after all.”
the comment was meant to be a joke.
Daniela turned before she even thought about it.
“focus on your own counts,” she said sharply.
the dancer flushed and looked away.
the room went silent again.
you watched her for a second.
“you didn’t have to do that either,” you said once the others left.
Daniela rubbed the back of her neck.
“i didn’t.”
“but you did.”
she didn’t answer.
instead she glanced at your tie, the blue fabric slightly wrinkled from rehearsal.
“fix your collar,” she muttered.
you blinked.
then you laughed softly.
not mocking.
just surprised.
you straightened the tie.
“better?”
Daniela hesitated.
“…yeah.”
the moment stretched.
then you picked up your bag.
“see you tomorrow, Daniela.”
the sound of her name in your voice made something strange twist in her chest.
no one said it like that.
not careful.
not impressed.
just… normal.
you walked out of the studio.
Daniela stood there a moment longer, staring at the empty doorway.
for the first time, she realized something uncomfortable.
the academy noticed everything.
but it hadn’t noticed the one thing that mattered.
she was starting to look for the blue tie in every room before she even realized she was doing it.
the academy noticed everything.
it noticed when someone stumbled during turns. it noticed when a tie was crooked. it noticed who stayed late in the studios and who left the second rehearsal ended.
it also noticed patterns.
and lately, people had started noticing one in particular.
the red tie.
the blue tie.
standing closer together than they used to.
no one said anything directly. not yet. but whispers moved faster than choreography changes.
Daniela heard them sometimes.
“she’s going soft.”
“it’s just temporary.”
“maybe she’s bored.”
she ignored all of it.
at least, she told herself she did.
the next week was relentless.
winter showcase rehearsals started before sunrise and ended long after the campus lights dimmed. muscles ached constantly. tempers ran thin. the choreographer expected perfection and everyone knew it.
Daniela usually thrived under that kind of pressure.
lately, something else kept distracting her.
a flash of blue in the mirror.
the sound of your voice counting quietly under your breath when everyone else lost rhythm.
the way you stayed after rehearsal to run sections alone.
she told herself she was just watching the formation.
that it had nothing to do with you.
but she noticed when you weren’t there too.
one afternoon you arrived late.
not late enough to be punished. just enough that the room had already started warming up.
your blue tie was loosened slightly, hair damp like you’d run across campus.
Daniela noticed immediately.
“finally decided to show up,” one of the red ties muttered nearby.
you didn’t respond.
you stepped into your spot and started stretching, breath still slightly uneven.
the choreographer clapped once.
“from the lift transition.”
music started.
the sequence moved fast. faster than usual. everyone was tired and the spacing felt tighter than normal.
during the second rotation, Daniela misjudged the timing by half a beat.
it almost never happened.
almost.
the collision would have been messy.
you adjusted first.
again.
your hand caught her arm just enough to redirect the movement without breaking the phrase.
the choreography continued.
no one outside the front line even noticed.
when the music stopped, the choreographer nodded.
“better.”
Daniela stepped away from the formation, heart beating faster than it should have.
you were already moving back to your mark.
like it meant nothing.
later, during break, Daniela approached you near the barre.
“you didn’t have to do that.”
you looked up from stretching your calf.
“do what.”
“fix the spacing earlier.”
“it was easier than crashing into you.”
she frowned slightly.
“you could’ve let me correct it.”
you shrugged. “we were in motion.”
simple.
practical.
Daniela crossed her arms.
“you do that a lot.”
“what.”
“adjust for other people.”
you thought about it for a moment.
“that’s kind of how group choreography works.”
she almost rolled her eyes.
but something about the calmness in your tone stopped her.
“you never make a big deal out of it,” she said.
“it’s not a big deal.”
she studied your face like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
“you’re strange.”
you smiled faintly.
“i get that a lot.”
later that evening, the academy hosted another donor reception.
Daniela moved through it automatically. greeting people. smiling when expected. listening to compliments about her “brilliant future.”
she was good at this part.
she always had been.
but halfway through a conversation with a board member, her eyes drifted toward the glass doors leading to the dance wing.
empty.
no blue tie.
she excused herself early.
the hallway toward the studios was quiet. lights dimmed. most students had already left for the night.
Daniela pushed open the door to studio c.
music played softly inside.
you were there.
of course you were.
you were running the lift sequence alone, marking the counts under your breath.
Daniela leaned against the doorway.
“you skipped the reception.”
you glanced over.
“i wasn’t invited.”
she hesitated.
“technically you were.”
“technically.”
you reset the music and ran the phrase again.
Daniela watched for a moment before speaking.
“why stay this late?”
“because the sequence still feels off.”
“no it doesn’t.”
you stopped mid step.
“what.”
“your timing was fine today,” she said.
you studied her expression.
“you noticed.”
she immediately regretted the words.
“…everyone noticed.”
you didn’t call her out on the lie.
instead you wiped sweat from your neck with the edge of your sleeve.
“i like getting it right.”
Daniela pushed away from the wall and walked further into the studio.
“you already do.”
you tilted your head slightly.
“that sounds like a compliment.”
“don’t get used to it.”
you laughed quietly.
the sound echoed softly off the mirrors.
Daniela felt that strange twisting sensation again in her chest.
you were so… easy to talk to.
not intimidated.
not performative.
just present.
“why dance here,” she asked suddenly.
“what do you mean?”
“you could’ve gone somewhere else.”
you shrugged.
“this academy has the best instructors.”
“that’s not what i meant.”
you understood anyway.
“because it was the place that said yes,” you said simply.
the honesty of that answer settled heavily in the room.
Daniela looked at the floor for a moment.
then back at you.
“you’re not afraid of failing here?”
you thought about it.
“i am.”
“then why don’t you act like it?”
“because being scared doesn’t mean you stop trying.”
she let out a quiet breath.
you glanced at her tie then.
the deep red fabric.
perfect as always.
“does it ever get tiring,” you asked.
“what?”
“being perfect all the time.”
Daniela froze.
no one asked her that.
not seriously.
“i’m not perfect,” she said automatically.
“you’re expected to be.”
that was closer to the truth than she liked.
she looked at you again.
your blue tie hung slightly crooked from rehearsal.
you hadn’t bothered fixing it.
for the first time, Daniela reached out.
her fingers brushed the fabric near your collar.
you stilled.
she straightened the knot carefully.
“there,” she said.
your breath caught just slightly.
“…thanks.”
her hand lingered for half a second too long before dropping.
the air in the studio shifted.
neither of you spoke.
finally you cleared your throat.
“you didn’t have to do that.”
Daniela smirked faintly.
“maybe i wanted to.”
you looked at her like you were seeing something new.
not the untouchable red tie.
not the sharp critic.
just Daniela.
and for once, she didn’t feel the need to correct that look.
because something had changed.
the academy still noticed everything.
but what it hadn’t realized yet was this.
the red tie wasn’t just watching the blue tie anymore.
it was starting to move toward it.
by the time the winter showcase arrived, the whole academy felt like it was holding its breath.
posters hung along the glass corridors. donors filled the front rows. instructors moved through the wings with tight smiles and clipboards clutched to their chests.
backstage, dancers stretched in quiet clusters. red ties gathered with red ties, adjusting each other’s collars, whispering last minute reminders. blue ties moved more quietly along the edges, focused on their own routines.
you sat on the floor near the costume racks, retaping your ankle for the third time that evening.
it wasn’t perfect.
but it was good enough.
Daniela noticed immediately.
she had been standing with the rest of KATSEYE near the mirror, rolling out her calves, when she saw you across the room. your blue tie was loosened slightly, sleeves pushed up, fingers working carefully around the tape.
she excused herself before anyone could ask why.
“you’re overdoing it,” she said, stopping in front of you.
you glanced up.
“hello to you too.”
Daniela crouched slightly to look at your ankle.
“that wrap is sloppy.”
“it’s functional.”
she sighed and held out her hand.
“give it here.”
you blinked. “what?”
“your ankle.”
“…that sounds weird.”
“just do it.”
you extended your leg a little.
Daniela carefully peeled back part of the tape and rewound it tighter, more precise. her fingers were steady, movements practiced. close enough that you could feel the warmth of her hands through the tape.
you watched her quietly.
“didn’t know red ties did medical work,” you said softly.
“red ties know how to do everything,” she muttered.
when she finished, she leaned back slightly.
“there.”
you flexed your ankle.
“…okay that’s actually better.”
“obviously.”
you smiled faintly.
for a second neither of you moved.
the noise of backstage continued around you. dancers stretching. stagehands calling cues.
Daniela looked up at you.
“don’t push it too hard tonight.”
“i won’t.”
“i’m serious.”
“i know.”
your tone was softer this time.
something about it made Daniela’s chest feel tight again.
“why are you looking at me like that,” she asked.
“like what?”
“like you’re about to say something.”
you hesitated.
then you did say it.
“because you care.”
Daniela’s eyebrows pulled together slightly.
“don’t start.”
“i’m not teasing you.”
“it sounds like you are.”
you shook your head.
“i’m just saying… you didn’t have to help me.”
“yes i did.”
“why??”
Daniela opened her mouth to answer.
nothing came out.
because the real answer sat somewhere deeper than she was used to saying out loud.
you watched her carefully.
then you stood, testing your ankle.
it held.
Daniela stood too.
for a moment you were just facing each other in the middle of the backstage chaos.
“good luck tonight,” you said.
“you too.”
a beat passed.
then you added, quieter, “Daniela.”
she paused.
you didn’t say her name the way other people did. not carefully. not nervously.
just like it belonged in your voice.
the stage manager called places.
dancers began moving toward the wings.
the performance blurred by in a rush of music and light. adrenaline carried you through the choreography, through the lift sequence, through the final turn phrase.
your ankle held.
barely.
but it held.
when the last note of music ended, applause crashed over the stage like a wave.
lights dimmed.
curtain fell.
backstage exploded into noise. laughter. relief. exhausted excitement.
Daniela pushed through the crowd without thinking.
she found you near the wings, leaning against the wall, breathing hard.
“hey,” she said.
you looked up.
sweat dampened your hair, your blue tie hanging slightly crooked again.
“hey.”
“your ankle.”
“still attached.”
she huffed a quiet laugh.
for a second neither of you spoke.
the noise around you faded a little.
Daniela looked at you like she was finally done pretending something didn’t exist.
“you were good tonight,” she said.
“so were you.”
“i’m serious.”
“so am i.”
you held her gaze.
then you said quietly, “i’m glad you were my partner.”
something about the way you said it made Daniela’s pulse jump.
“yeah,” she murmured. “me too.”
another moment passed.
then Daniela did something that would’ve shocked half the academy if they saw it.
she reached out and straightened your tie.
again.
“you keep messing this up,” she said softly.
you smiled.
“maybe i like when you fix it.”
Daniela froze slightly.
you didn’t look away.
“was that flirting,” she asked.
“maybe.”
the corner of her mouth lifted.
“you’re brave.”
“not really.”
“no?”
“i just trust you.”
that landed somewhere deep.
Daniela studied your face for a long second.
then she stepped closer.
close enough that the noise of the backstage crowd faded almost completely.
“you shouldn’t trust me that easily,” she said quietly.
“i don’t think it’s easy,” you replied.
“then why?”
you shrugged slightly.
“because you’re kinder than you pretend to be.”
Daniela exhaled slowly.
for once, she didn’t argue.
instead she reached forward, grabbed the front of your tie lightly, and pulled you just a little closer.
“you’re very annoying,” she murmured.
“i’ve heard.”
then she kissed you.
it wasn’t dramatic.
not the kind of kiss people imagined from someone like Daniela.
it was quick. warm. a little uncertain.
but real.
when she pulled back, you were smiling.
“took you long enough,” you said.
Daniela rolled her eyes slightly.
“don’t ruin it.”
“sorry.”
you reached for her hand.
she hesitated for half a second.
then let you.
across the room, dancers celebrated and instructors congratulated each other.
everyone noticed Daniela standing with you.
noticed the red tie.
noticed the blue tie.
noticed your hands.
and for once, Daniela didn’t let go.
because for the first time since arriving at the academy, the hierarchy didn’t feel like the most important thing in the room anymore.
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I’ve noticed that me and some of my fellow writers have been lacking a little self confidence in our writing. Let’s give ourselves a little self love 💕
What are some fics you’ve written that you’re proud of. Please feel free to tag other writers so they can share theirs :)
These two fics are from my old blog seeapple
I wanna be your boyfriend.
I had so much fun writing this. I love the faking dating trope. I think it’s sweet and funny.
Te Amo
I was nervous to post this one. I’m going to be honest I was prepared to get racist comments. Fortunately I received nothing but sweet comments. Even people who weren’t Latino themselves loved it. It has encouraged me to write more Latina reader fics in the future.
ty dani for tagging me and starting this appreciation exercise <3 for me, I have three fics I'm pretty proud of atm hehe :3
my number one always, What...Got Stuck?
I guess I'll never stfu about this fic LMAO but this was the first story I wrote that I felt very pleased with and just thoroughly enjoyed creating. I also LOVEEE crack fics in general, so me making a full blown one was really monumental :3
my second shout out is to Still Holding On
Literally just posted this fic but OMG I feel like I put my whole bedussy heart and soul into writing this one. This was the most emotionally explorative piece I've written so far and the challenge of learning each character's POV and expressing their thoughts/feelings in a way for the reader to connect with or at least understand was very fun to do.
my third little guy: Home
I got such visceral cuteness aggression writing this... it made me fall in love with writing for Xavier and helped me connect to his character more hehe
i had to really wrack my brain for this one 😵💫😵💫
but here are the works im proud of : <3
clingy reader x the lads men.
i will forever love the anon that requested this one i had so much fun writing the reader, it made me giggle sm
physically reserved!reader x sylus.
icl this was a straight up self insert because the reader is 100% based off of me (i crave physical intimacy while being unbearably shy & scared to talk to people sue me) & it was taken from my old acc (i wrote this when i was 17 & i stand by it)
soft!sukuna.
i initially just wrote this for fun in between study breaks but i just realised how much i LOVE turning intimidating evil men into softies (im making this my brand now) <3
manhandling (toji).
also wrote this when i was in a silly goofy mood but something about being thrown around & manhandled in non-sexual situations too is just so dear to me <3 also i was giggling the whole time writing this 🌸
a few months ago i read a fic centered around the same idea almost, of suguru returning as a curse after his death and it really etched itself into my brain, i looked for it so much but i still couldn't find it or atleast who it was by, i would've loved to read it again:( and when i heard this song it immediately pushed me to write my own. it might have been a little bit of self insert with the way i wrote reader in this, i think i captured how mourning/missing a person feels pretty well. i really enjoyed writing this.
out-freak the neighbours - childhood bsf!suguru x reader
the childhood bestfriends to lovers trope is a popular for a reason, and 100% one of my favourites! also this is the perfect fuck session imo, got a little bit of everything. i need him BAD
tag team - bf! jin itadori x reader x bfs brother! sukuna
when i tell you i RAN to write this when jin itadori got animated😩 him and sukuna were the perfect combination of soft and rough together, but i sure hope to write more for jin alone in the future. i am a slut for an eiffel tower though.
npt💞 @sugurusbadhabit @killakuna @getopied @dollhousesinner @siennayaps @satorusrealm @satorusdollie @kaekuna @feyrinnn + anyone who wants to join!
this one will always have a special place in my heart and the fact that it’s my least popular pains me 😩 it was initially my best friend’s idea that my husband helped clarify a bit and then I started adding to it and well there she is. it’s my longest fic at 1.5k which isn’t very long or anything but it was for me, I couldn’t put it down when I started. I initially thought about making it a series where each part would have a different reader insert (seeing as he eats them) but didn’t know if it’d come off correctly. as an addition to the series idea: I wanted to have a broken satosugu marriage that they’d have to work through but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
almost — naoya x reader
this is the first time I tried to put true emotion into something. when @sweethearticism mentioned it in her spotlight sunday she said it depicted a broken marriage perfectly, which was not necessarily my intention but it is only told from readers pov so if that is what I conveyed then I’m happy with it. This was the first time I hit flow state while writing, another longer (for me!) fic that I could not put down once I started.
no pressure tags <3 @satoruined @yunamoona @loganwritesprobably @hotties4gojo + anyone who’d like to join 💕
formation a! [gojo x reader with shoko and suguru cameo]
my very first (besides a small choso hc) x reader fic and like the first one shot I’ve ever wrote, so I feel like it will never not be one of my favorites 😭 the idea was for it to flow similar to the jujustroll and I think I did an okay job at that. just wanted them to goofmax
sukuna complains about his loud giggly gf who can’t stfu
i think I did an okay job for trying to write him, i wanted to write something where Sukuna vaguely somewhat feared reader (in a sweet way? ykykwim) and this came to mind. In a world full of biggest mistakes he is our biggest beef steak
white rabbit [gojo x reader]
I am a sucker for any “surprise, they died” trope ever, (which is great bc every jjk character is a ROCK🪦) so I wanted to do that and I think I did a pretty okay job. lowk now that I’ve read it again im itching to rewrite it (it was supposed to be longer but I couldn’t lock in…I need to practice writing longer fics 💔) but its still a fave, but I think my least popular
also made partially because I couldn’t stop laughing or crying at this image
no presh tags 𓏲ּ𝄢 @mokkiaun @agejonami @sugurusladyknightt @getopied @junuru @tangyneon @nanamisbbygirl @softtashoney @sweethearticism @killakuna and everyone else! ᢉ𐭩 muahmuah
gojo has a crush on the cute and shy manager! [satoru gojo x fem!shy!reader]
MY DEBUT INTO JJK TUMBLR !! i love gojo sm and i really liked writing this its so cute and fluffy and UGH !! ive actually finished writing the pt 2 !!
iida makes sick!reader chicken soup [tenya iida x reader]
I LOVE IIDA SM AHHH !! i was kicking my feet writing this and im so proud of how it turned out !! its so cute and just so idiots in love so so stupid and cute WOW !! when they are bf and gf but dont know 🤔🤔🙂↕️
idol!izuku get put on the big screen while staring at you with awestruck eyes! [idol! izuku midoriya x idol! reader]
THIS ONE HOLDS SUCH A DEAR PLACE IN MY HEART OMG !! i love the idol au so much and i love izuku sm so i obviously had to do it with him 🙂↕️🙂↕️
megumi confession ft. japans tradition of boys giving away the second button of their school uniform [megumi fushigoru x reader]
I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH !! omg omg defo one of my most favs idk i feel like i showed his character really well !! i always think about this one i love love love it
one of my favorites is popular girl's pet, which I got the idea for from moki! it's genuinely just so adorable! it's loser denki with popular girl reader, which is a dynamic he would LOVE!
devoted follower is also a cool concept, I love the idea of megan being super devoted to her partner, so when it gets to this like idea of her being devoted to goddess reader that's something really fun to explore.
I also have a work coming out on feb 1st, it's hitoshi giving reader a love letter for valentine's day and I'm super proud of it, can't wait for you guys to read it!
no pressure tags: @grenadehearts @meirries @vanillyeee @sunanami @dearmegumi @chrissv4mp @megumismyhusband @dworkism @peachesvault + anybody else who wants to join!
before your kisses turn into bruises, i'm a warning... billie eilish × f!reader
─── THIS ONE!! i had written this a few days after i touched down back home from my trip to hawaii last year & realized i didn't want my trip to end just yet. with that longing to keep the feeling alive, i whipped this little thing and got... carried away, to say the least. debated hugely on whether or not to create a part 2, decided against it in the end, but i think this holds strong as a standalone !
deja vu... lara raj × f!reader
─── where do i begin... deja vu was the first fic in my 4k special & i hold it very, very dear to my heart. i actually was in an unbelievable state of shock waking up that morning, going to my drafts to pick up wherever i'd left off on an older fic, and being completely surprised at the number that stared back at me on my follower count ! to even think that people were enjoying my writing was insane, but to really feel the impact and get hit with something that shows how largely recognized not just my writing, but me as a person, is... it's still crazy.
you don't remember calling out for me? part two... matthew sturniolo × f!reader
─── one of my older works, but i used to always find myself running back to this whenever i felt in the mood to read gut-wrenching angst. i felt that there wasn't enough angst on sturnblr & i was also super obsessed with 'the 30th' by billie eilish at the time, so this was the result of that! love this, cherish this, absolutely thinking about writing something similar but different fandom <3
CH41 / shoot your shot, social media au... daniela avanzini × wnba!reader
─── fourty... first... chapter... of... shoot your flipping shot... reading that, let alone saying it out loud, is absolutely INSANE. my longest ever piece of writing & it was for a series that is still ongoing, that's crazy and will continue to both shock and amaze me all at the same time. again, i've always found a deep love for angst in my heart... even though it's heart-wrenching.
no pressure tags. @fein4lararaj @sodanisboy @kams-corner @98oceans @meirries @katskisses @antagonistzini @delilahsturniolo @herlondonboy @lovelee4u + anyone else who wants to join <3
ok so ummm definitely first one was my mechanic daniela! fic i think that was one of my first fics ive written which i didn’t know it would good or whether people would like it but IT DID and im so proud of it
next was definitely my hold me down series i lost inspiration to continue writing it but i loved it so much and i really liked how it flowed with my thoughts too writing g!p for me feels way easier than normal fem to fem but for this one i couldn’t write anymore after finishing up the third chapter and i felt like i couldn’t do it anymore and i didn’t want to disappoint anyone.
FBOY! LARA MY BELOVED. oh how much i love my baby no explanation needed i jus freaking love it so so so so much my first ever long written fic i did and i enjoyed doing it too so so so so so so much i really want to write for her again so if you guys have any recommendations PLS SENDDD
never realized how much i love writing for megan till i started and this fic really showed it to me i just get so much inspiration from megan whether it’s a video and the way she acted in that or a picture or even a song i really really ENJOYEDD writing this and. i’m so grateful that other also loved it <3 also gameboy is a goated song and gamer!megan is so real HEHE
okay so special tag for my any smau i’ve ever done wethere it’s text messages or insta stories IVEEEE LOVED DOING EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM IM SOSOSOSOSOSO PROUD OF THEM AND I JS LOVE EM
dis sophia one too was so fluffy and i freaking loved it
i’d have to say found since i felt so loved and appreciated at this and and many people came and supported me .
mmmm another one i’d say got me feelin’ breathless. it was so fun to write and i was gagged with the idea 😭
oh my gosh and we ain’t gonna make it tonight was sooo good i was in flow state w that one. it’s also my best one shot and im so proud of myself for it bc i wrote it in like 30 mins 😋 and part 2 is out here !
ummm also my second kinda series play ball or play hearts (which was recently shut down im sorry). it was the most i’ve written i think 2k smt words? so yeah that was an achievement and i got so much love for that as well <3
oo i’d also say my ot5 pirate kats fic OH MY GOSH I WAS SO GAGGED AT THAT !! i went back and read it and was like ‘ain’t no way I wrote that’ 😭 but yeah that gave me such a boost fo confidence to write more.
aaand last but not least you taste so good. it was short but sooo sultry and hot and i loved the concept of like high!manon x like preppy girl!sophia so maybe i’ll continue that trope .
ok so boom, i was surprised how much i liked what you need—it literally came to me after i smoked and listened to the trilogy album, i was also a bit inspired by nicole kidman’s monologue from eyes wide shut where she talks to her husband about almost cheating and i knew i had to combine the two somehow 😭 i was genuinely surprised how many people liked it…especially with how taboo cheating is, i thought i was gonna get stoned for that
next is employee of the month, i was going thru a phase where i wanted to write a good angsty fic and this was my first attempt, was so motivated to write this to the point i genuinely sat at my desktop and wrote 4k words of pure anguish in one night. (originally was a hanni x reader)
mmmmh, i really have a special place in my heart for komorebi, it was my first series i’ve ever written on tumblr and even though it’s only one chapter published—i planned out about 30 or so chapters. it was based on this book i wanted to write in like my senior year and i was lowkey getting rejected from schools so i was thinking what if i dropped out and tried skating for a living (pls i was manic asf) so i wrote what that would seem like in another character (?), it’s so personal and so close to me (i really wanna continue it but im like scratching my head trynna keep up w myself)
OH SHIT INDICA BABY/MOLLY BABY WAS DOPE ASF, i had a dream that a really pretty girl offered me molly in a club after i listened to amaarae’s black star album that night, and i was like WAIT THIS IS DOPE (i’m rewriting it rn w danon becuz im changing the plot back to what i had it)
awkward is also another one i loved before scrapping it—i was a personal goal to create the most gut wrenching angst and i never got to get there BUT it was a peak…
i was a little nervous to post this one originally since it was my first yoonchae fic and i really wanted it to be simple and cute. i definitely felt a little lonely writing it because it made me feel single LMFAO. the outpour of love definitely helped my confidence, especially when i got asked to write a part 2!
SUN-KISSED DAYS
before i wrote this one i was in a hugeee writers block for about a month but dani’s dr dump physically gave me reaction so i HAD to write it. definitely one of my best works and i feel so immensely proud of it!
and TATTOOED LOVE
tattooing is the job i dream of. unfortunately im terribly uncoordinated so i used this fic as an outlet. i took the tiniest inspiration from a fic i had read previously and went at it for a week or so!
i definitely have many more fics on the way, (especially for the grammys)!
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an: why is jana awake at 6am.. guys i fear idk what to do with my account on here anymore dk if i wanna deactivate or sob but yeah mmph inspired by my gf so hi baby i love you
a quiet tattoo artist meets lara raj, and she keeps coming back. with every session, they grow closer, sharing small moments and laughter. over time, the friendship becomes something more, and they finally take a chance on each other.
word count: 1.4k
masterlist
black baggy jeans worn soft at the knees, heavy boots scuffed beyond repair, loose tees or tanks that show the ink climbing your arms and disappearing under fabric like unfinished sentences. silver rings you forget to take off. chains sometimes, when you remember. your hair is always doing its own thing. kept short enough not to get in the way, long enough to fall into your eyes when you lean over your work.
your body tells its own story.
tattoos layered over years: bold linework across your forearms, shaded pieces up your biceps, old flash mixed with personal designs. some of them are yours, some done by friends, some by people you trusted once and never saw again. none of them are delicate. all of them are intentional. clients clock it immediately. ink recognizes ink.
you move with the quiet confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing with their hands.
this isn’t the first time lara raj has been on your table.
the first time, she came in quiet.
hood pulled up, shoulders slightly hunched, like she was trying to disappear into the space instead of take it over. the shop was loud that day. someone laughing in the front, machines buzzing, music bleeding from another room. but she moved through it like she was underwater. when she sat down, she folded her hands neatly in her lap and waited for you to notice her.
you did. eventually.
“what’re we doing today?” you asked, voice even, professional.
she hesitated, then tucked her hair behind her ear. “a scorpion. back here.” she pointed just behind her ear, delicate but sure. “small.”
“zodiac?” you guessed, already pulling on gloves.
she smiled, slow and sharp at the edges. “obviously.”
you tilted her head gently to the side, fingers light but confident. she didn’t flinch. that part stuck with you. the immediate trust, the way her body relaxed under your hands like she’d decided you were safe without needing proof.
you didn’t notice how long she stayed after it was done. didn’t clock the way she hovered by the counter, asking what music you liked, watching you clean your station like it was interesting. you wrapped her tattoo, gave aftercare instructions, nodded politely when she thanked you.
you thought that was the end of it.
the second time, she was different.
brighter. louder. rings stacked on her fingers, confidence crackling off her skin. she sprawled into the chair like she owned it, kicked her boots together absently.
“ring finger,” she said. “zzz.”
you raised an eyebrow. “sleep thing?”
“cats,” she corrected, already pulling out her phone. “three of them. they nap like it’s a their job.”
she showed you pictures. blurry, overexposed, ridiculous. you nodded like this was completely normal behavior from a client.
“you don’t think it’s weird?” she asked, eyes flicking to your face, searching.
“nah,” you said honestly. “people get worse for less.”
she laughed, too loud, too delighted, like you’d just validated something important.
after that, she kept coming back.
the stars were next. scattered carefully across her hand, mapped to resemble the taurus constellation. she came in quieter that day, energy muted. brought references printed out, carefully folded. when you asked about placement, she shrugged.
“it’s for my grandmother,” she said eventually. “she was a taurus. she loved the stars.”
you slowed down after that. measured twice. checked symmetry again and again. while you worked, she told you small things. how her grandmother used to braid her hair, how she smelled like incense and old books. she didn’t cry. she didn’t dramatize it. she just let the memories exist between you.
when you finished, she stared at her hand for a long time.
then she squeezed your wrist. “thank you,” she whispered, like the shop might overhear.
you assumed gratitude explained everything.
somewhere between that tattoo and the next, she asked for your number.
“for scheduling,” she said, too casual, eyes glued to her phone like it didn’t matter.
you gave it to her without hesitation. you always gave clients your number.
what you didn’t expect was the text later that night.
lara: hey it’s scorpion girl
lara: hope that’s okay lol
you replied. polite. brief.
then she sent a meme.
then a picture of one of her cats stretched impossibly long across a couch.
from there, it snowballed.
the wrist came next. love is life and life is free, written in two different handwritings. she played erykah badu softly from her phone while you worked, humming under her breath, eyes closed. afterward, she texted you the song link like you hadn’t just shared the moment.
you listened to it again anyway.
habibi followed. upper forearm. matching with her family. she came in glowing that day, telling you who had it where, laughing about group chats and inside jokes. she brought pastries. insisted you eat one even though your gloves were still on.
you sat on the curb outside afterward, knees almost touching, talking about music and childhood and how weird it is to grow up fast. she asked about your first tattoo. you told her more than you usually told anyone.
paranji came next. tamil again. her thatha’s name, resting on her shoulder. she was quiet during that one. jaw tight. breath careful. she held your hand harder than necessary.
later that night, she sent you a long message thanking you for being gentle.
you stared at it longer than you meant to.
after that, it stopped being just about tattoos.
coffee dates that weren’t dates. late-night texts from studios where she sounded tired and soft. voice notes you replayed more than once. you sent her photos of flash sheets you weren’t sure about. she hyped you up like it was her job.
“i believe in you,” she texted once, unprompted.
you told her she was dramatic.
she sent a heart anyway.
the scorpio symbol on her ribs hurt. april v beside it hurt more. she joked through it, laughed when she swore, told you she trusted you with her life. fairy on her inner bicep. angel in gothic lettering joining the stars on her hand.
by then, you were friends.
real friends. the kind who knew each other’s coffee orders. the kind who texted good luck before big days. the kind who sat in silence without needing to fill it.
you still didn’t see it.
so when she comes in this time, it feels normal.
white tank top. bold graphic. hair loose. glossy lips. she settles into the chair like she belongs there. like she always has.
“same drill?” you ask.
“you know me so well,” she says.
you place the stencil carefully. her name in tamil. centered. clean. meaningful.
“tell me if it’s crooked.”
“it’s perfect,” she says immediately. then softer, “you always make things feel like they belong.”
you’re focused on alignment. symmetry. breathing.
the machine buzzes. she listens when you tell her when to breathe. she talks about missing home, about music, about how she feels safest in places where she doesn’t have to explain herself.
“like here,” she adds.
you nod, thinking she means the shop.
when it’s done, you bandage it gently. her name rests there like it’s always lived in her.
she looks at it for a long time. “i wanted this from you.”
you shrug. “i was available.”
she laughs, then goes quiet.
“hey,” she says.
you look up.
“are you always this oblivious,” she asks gently, “or just with me?”
your stomach drops. “to what?”
she exhales, half-laughing. “i’ve been flirting with you for months. i text you every day. i come here even when i don’t need a tattoo.”
heat floods your face. “i thought we were just… friends.”
“we are,” she says quickly. “i just want more.”
you swallow. “you mean… a date?”
“yeah,” she says, suddenly nervous. “if you want.”
your heart stumbles. “yeah,” you say. “i do.”
she steps closer. waits.
you meet her halfway.
the kiss is soft. brief. warm. her hand settles at your waist like it’s always known where to go. it feels easy. right.
when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours.
“text me when you close,” she whispers.
you smile, still stunned. “i will.”
the door chimes as she leaves.
your phone buzzes almost immediately.
lara: so… does this mean i get to flirt openly now?
popbase And the plot thickens! HYBE x Geffen—the joint-label that KATSEYE is signed under—released a public statement on Weverse this morning, bringing all attention back to the situation and buzz surrounding daniela_avanzini and ynylnofficial that reached a peak last week when fans noted the pair hadn't been seen out-and-about together as frequently as they used to be.
HxG has brushed off their rumored relationship as a "Public Relations Stunt and nothing more. To push the promo and attention onto KATSEYE's newest EP... We needed someone who was already talked about highly online—Y/N came in and made the job easier for us, the girls just had to help each other and fuel the rumors."
What do you think?
liked by avrenues, geffenrecords, hybe.labels, and others.
danyntruther what. ─── user67 no shot this is real information. hybe loves keeping attention solely on their artists and no one else, popbase also loves stirring the pot for no reason whatsoever. FAKE NEWSS
michaela.logans read the article for more on this topic!
user91 okay, but this doesn't explain why dani was seen crying in the lobby of a hotel room lastweek?
user34 y/n when i catch you
ynylnnews oh! ─── ynylnnews hope this was worth it
─── user48 that feeling when your fav is an idiot
user52 so what was the fight between y/n and avree about??? it makes no sense for this to have just been some lousy pr stunt.
use96 LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER those are my babies
user18 ☹️☹️ are we kidding
user06 always had an off feeling about them ─── user25 there was no "off feeling." they were clearly together and that article pulled them apart, this is what happens when snitch ass bitches get ahold of information they shouldn't be allowed
6ndrsn this is fake and disgustingly disrespectful. ─── popbase hi, anderson! we'd love to get your perspective and side of the story on this if you're willing to share with us ❤️
─── 6ndrsn you're a joke
avrenues FAKEEE
avrenues don't spread fake shit about my teammate
avrenues she loves that girl to death. get the story straight before posting false news. we fought because i was talking about daniela and y/n got defensive, rightfully so, and protected her name. popbase, please get off the internet! ─── user63 avree jackson redemption arc in a comment section of a post that literally had nothing to do with her... this growth and maturity needs to be studied
POPBASE | DATING TOPIC PUBLISHED DECEMBER 10TH, 2025 By: Michaela Logans, Staff Writer
NEW: An unexpected turn of events! HYBE x Geffen Records has come forward with a statement concerning their very own KATSEYE's Daniela Avanzini and The LA Sparks' Y/N Y/L/N's relationship status—or, in newer terms, co-worker status.
In a surprising turn of events, KATSEYE's joint-label, HxG (HYBE x Geffen Records) released an unscheduled—and definitely unexpected—statement upon the pileup of speculation of a romantic relationship brewing between a member of their group, KATSEYE, and a rookie of the Los Angeles Sparks.
On the morning of December 10th, today, the joint-label posted a public announcement on HYBE's community app for their many groups, Weverse, explaining very thoroughly as to what there was between Daniela and Y/N.
Fans of both celebrities are appalled by this sudden revelation, many of which have spoken out and confessed that they feel "decieved" and "confused."
Public Relations Stunts
In the entertainment industry, a public relations stunt—often shortened to PR stunt—refers to a strategic action designed to attract public attention, shape public perception, or divert scrutiny during a sensitive or transitional period.
These stunts can range from surprise collaborations and sudden announcements to carefully timed leaks, planted relationship rumors, or even premeditated controversies to get a celebrity's name back out into the media.
Historically, PR stunts are not always false—but they are very much intentional. They're calculated moments meant to spark conversation, boost visibility, or soften the impact of unrelated news. While some fans view these tactics as harmless marketing, others consider them manipulative on the label's part, blurring the line between authenticity and strategy—especially when romantic relationships are brushed off as one.
The latter believes it's a play in power and sheer control.
In the case of Avanzini and Y/L/N, the label's wording has reignited earlier debate about whether their highly speculated relationship was genuine—or merely convenient, as HxG had made it seem.
Right Place, Right Time, Wrong Person?
According to HYBE x Geffen's statement, the relationship between Daniela and Y/N was "strictly professional in nature," describing the pair merely as industry acquaintances who simply agreed on the stunt for both of their benefits. Through overlapping brand events and mutual sponsorship obligations, the girls grew more as friends instead of the romantic partners the internet had painted them as—though the joint-label had expressed that it was exactly what they wanted.
HYBE x Geffen Records Representative via Weverse: "Hello. This is a staff member at HxG, filling in for KATSEYE's Community Manager. Our loyal and devoted EYEKONS have brought this to our team's attention and we felt that it was only right to make everything clear with a statement that is nothing but transparent and honest. Recently, Daniela's name has been tied to Y/N Y/L/N's name, labeling the pair as an official couple. More so, we've seen this community begin to talk down on Daniela upon the appalling news that was released about Y/N and a fight with her teammate."
"We, KATSEYE and our team at HYBE x Geffen, do not tolerate nor do we support any vial acts against co-workers. All we needed was someone to tie romantically to one of the girls, all in motivation to boost early promo and attention onto KATSEYE's next album. Initially, Y/N seemed like the perfect person to weave into the release promo of Beautiful Chaos, and coincidentally, our girls loved her as well. We needed someone who was already talked about highly online and by the girls, and when Y/N placed herself directly in the spotlight, the team thought she was the best option. She made the job easier for us, the girls just had to help each other and fuel the rumors."
"However, upon Y/N's name showing up alongside many controversial and ill-natured articles, it has come to our attention that, in KATSEYE's and—most importantly—Daniela's best interests, we cut ties with Y/N entirely and continue promo without the help of her and her own team. The relationship between the two girls was strictly professional by nature. Simply, we want to make it clear that this was a public relations stunt and nothing more, even as the media continues to force that false narrative."
Click here for more...
The announcement emphasized that any interactions between the two were "misinterpreted by the public due to coincidental timing and heightened online speculation." The label further clarified that Daniela is currently focused on group activities, international promotions, and preparations for KATSEYE's rumored upcoming world tour, leaving "no room for personal engagements outside of professional commitments"—aka cutting legal ties with Daniela and both labels.
Notably absent from the statement, however, was any direct comment from either Daniela or Y/N themselves.
This silence has not gone unnoticed.
Fans quickly took to social media, dissecting the paragraphs line by line. Many pointed out that the label never explicitly denied any underlying feelings, only redefining and coloring the relationship under a corporate lens. Others expressed their frustrations, accusing the joint-label of downplaying what really appeared—at least publicly—to be genuine moments of connection.
"They said it was professional, a publicity stunt, sure, but that can't be the full story. They said it wasn't romantic now," one fan wrote. "There were posts, evidence that they were seeing each other very intimately."
"Whatever this is, it reads as damage control, not honest clarity," another fan added.
...Terribly Wrong Timing, Actually
As a result of this, Y/L/N supporters have raised their concerns about the timing of this statement, noting that it dropped amid increased media attention on the LA Sparks rookie following the altercation with teammate Avree Jackson and a small absence from games due to the fight. Some speculate that distancing her name from a higher-profile idol may be a move to preserve a "marketable" and "presentable" image early in her career—however, that was not said about Y/N, instead spoken about Daniela and her own path.
Others believe the utmost opposite for both girls and their careers—that the situation itself was exploited and won't work out in either of the girls' favors.
The phrase "co-worker status," now circulating widely online, has become a point of contention. Critics argue that framing two individuals from entirely separate industries as co-workers feels forced, almost dismissive—especially given previous interactions and public social media posts that fans had interpreted as personal rather than staged, forced, or as fake as they said it was.
As of today, neither Avanzini nor Y/L/N has addressed the situation on their personal accounts.
Silence, in this case, has only fueled even more questions and overflowing speculation upon whether or not the relationship was as fake as HxG brushed the interactions and bond as.
With KATSEYE currently promoting overseas and Y/N remaining stateside amid league obligations, the physical distance between the two has become symbolic—representing not just geography, but the growing divide between public narrative and private reality.
Whether this was a calculated PR maneuver or an unfortunate misrepresentation of a real, genuine relationship remains unclear. What is certain is that the conversation surrounding authenticity, agency, and control in celebrity relationships has once again been thrust into the spotlight and is beginning to torpedo entirely out of control.
And for fans on both sides, the question lingers...
If none of it was ever real—why does it feel like something genuine just ended?
Seoul, Tuesday 10:19 p.m.
The record shop is already buzzing with the shared excitement of waiting fans and anxious members of the staff and security teams as Dani sits between Manon and Megan, a divider between the trouble-making pair, as requested by Missy... all while she had put her hair up in yet another stress-bun that never meant anything good. After a successful meet-and-greet at their last stop in Daejeon, none of the girls are really feeling the same amount of nerves as last time. Dani, however, could beg to differ.
But, as per usual, she pleads the fifth; it's been a rough week for her, and nobody could get more than a couple of words from her no matter how hard they tried to cheer her up or even start a simple conversation with her. She's been running on the high of meeting fans and the anger she still has bubbling up for you and how inconsiderate you were of her feelings.
She hasn't explained much to the other girls, but they know about just as much as she did when you went radio-silent on her in Atlanta, so... not much. All she's explained is that you lied to her, she needed time, and you haven't spoken to each other since last week—or maybe longer? Dani's not quite sure when she had that last conversation with you, or maybe her brain has decided she shouldn't be constantly reminded of that heart-wrenching interaction that will most likely have the guilt eat her alive and make her run back to you with open arms.
And believe her—she wants to, she really does, but she also knows that allowing herself time to fully process this and weigh her options on what to do with this information is the best thing she can do right now.
It's all a part of the healing process. If she takes everything step by step, she knows she'll be fine, maybe even in a better headspace than she's in currently—recently, it's all been work, work, work, and nothing but work, which leaves little to no her-time or space for her to figure out if your issues should be impacting her as much as they're starting to. It's not just the media that's making her think that, it's the way everything happened so fast, the way you showed up into her life so annoyingly and somehow became someone to her that she can't imagine living the rest of her life without. All of it pains her to think about... all of it, meaning you.
"Hey," Megan chirps, her knee bumping Dani's gently beneath the table. "You look like you're about to projectile vomit right into that chair."
The Chinese girl emphasizes her point with a wave of her hand toward the chair opposite Dani, which makes the Latina sigh and shrug off her teasing. She doesn't have time for silly jokes right now—not when her mind is buzzing and everyone else's minds are on their excitement to meet the fans, read over rehearsal schedules, and sketch out the tour outline. So, with a quiet hum, she smiles. "I'm fine."
She hums, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Megan has never been known to buy a quiet "I'm fine" without pressing further—more so, she'll annoy the shit out of her members until they tell her what's bugging them. "Fine," she repeats, tapping her chin with her index finger. "So fine that you're bouncing your leg and staring into space like something's on your mind?"
Dani sighs, glaring at her friend, though she has no real intentions to. "I don't wanna talk about it right now," she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. "We're at a fansign, Megan, with all of our fans literally right there watching us and waiting for their turn to interact with us. I don't wanna ruin the vibe."
"You'll ruin the vibe even more if you let whatever it is you're holding in, on your chest the entire time," Megan counters, nodding as if she's agreeing with herself.
And, God.
Dani hates that's she's right.
So, with a more open sigh, she parts her lips to speak. "I—"
"Fansign starts in 10!" One staff member announces, hands cupped over his mouth in some makeshift megaphone. "Reminder not to disrespect the artists or touch them without their explicit consent."
Almost as if on cue, Dani huffs in annoyance at the same time that the cheers start. The entire line explodes into noise, some fans squealing while others hop lightly on their toes as they try to see over other people's heads and wave over at her and the rest of her group. So much for talking and getting things off your chest—there is no time for that, amongst other things—when every time she tries, she's blocked out or silenced. It's more than irritating, to say the least, and all Dani wishes is for some peace, quiet, and a space where she can relax with herself and only herself. She wonders how that'd go, seeing as she can't even confide in her friend without someone rudely interrupting... even if they hadn't known.
Megan nudges her again, this time with her arm. "C'mon, I'm listening." She assures with a soft smile.
The Latina returns the same smile, just smaller and much less... joyful, she guesses. "It's... Y/N," she admits, and immediately it feels like a weight that's been there for an eternity is lifted clean off her chest. "I don't know, it's like, ever since we last spoke and I told her I needed space, I—it's like I don't want that anymore. Like I made a mistake by telling her that because all I want more than anything in the world right now is to talk to her and figure out what was really going on between us." She explains, words spilling out like a steady waterfall. Wow, okay—maybe Megan was right this making her feel better.
"The moment the words left my mouth, it was like I didn't really mean them as much as I thought I would," she continues, eyes flicking to one fan near the front of the line and offering a fond smile. "Maybe I just said the first thing that came to mind because I was confused. Or angry, or terrified that what she told me would be the breaking point in our relationship—or whatever we are, we haven't labeled anything."
"Labels are boring," Megan hums.
"Yeah, they are," Dani huffs a laugh, hollow. "That's why I can't figure out why I want one so bad."
Manon, who had been as silent as a mouse before this—or maybe she wasn't, probably just talking to Sophia and neither of the girls noticed—leans over slightly and chimes in, voice almost a whisper but not quiet. "Uh, I'll take a very educated guess," she says, pretending to think for one moment before snapping her fingers and pointing her finger directly at Dani's chest. "I don't know, maybe because you love her and you're too scared to admit it?" Manon says, narrowing her eyes as if she's still deep in thought. "Which doesn't make sense for you."
"You've never been scared to love someone," Megan chimes in again, and Dani's eyes flick over. "Not quietly, at least. Is it because she's been soft-launching the hell out of you ever since you went on your first date?" She inquires. All the Latina can do is shrug, because honestly? She's not quite sure herself why she's so scared to love someone this time, even quietly. Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn't want to love you quietly, but out loud and for all the world to see and hear and be proud of. Maybe it's because you're both celebrities and constantly under scrutiny that is the public eye. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this, being in a girl group that she knew would rise to fame.
It's all maybe, what if, probably, in another universe—but why not certain? She's certain she wants to love you, she just... doesn't know how to do that in a way that doesn't result in damage to you, your career, her career, herself, or her girls.
Sticky situation.
"Dani," Manon says, snapping the girl out of her thoughts. "Earth to Dani... Lara, Yoonchae, and three staff members have been trying to get your attention from down the other side of the table." At her words, the Latina straightens up and turns in the direction from which her name is being called. Just as Manon said, two staff members and both Lara and Yoonchae are waving her over.
Without needing to be told a tenth time, she gets out of her seat and walks over, confused.
Lara and Yoonchae, albeit happy as ever and cracking jokes earlier when they all arrived, are now wearing uneasy expressions. They look horrified almost, which instantly makes something in her stomach twist uncomfortably. Both staff members pace widely behind the curtains that were temporarily put up for today, one on the phone as the other rummages through the space to find something, anything... but Dani is oblivious.
"What?" She asks, panic rising in her voice. "What happened? Lara, is something wrong?" She tries again, gaze flicking between Lara and Yoonchae and back again. Dani doesn't know what to think—not when two out of five of her members are staring at her with unreadable looks on their faces and tension clear in their demeanor. "Yoonchae—just... someone tell me what's going on."
Hesitantly, Lara scoots her chair back from the table, staring up at Dani with a sympathetic yet cautious look on her face. "Have you checked your socials?"
Dani bites the inside of her cheek. "No... not this morning."
Yoonchae's shoulders tense further, an uncomfortable look twisting across her face. "Something was posted," she explains, racking her mind for any way to sugarcoat something as appalling as this. "About you and Y/N. But you never told us about it and, Lara and I... we don't think you'd agree to something like that." She says quietly, though Dani's still confused as ever.
"Agree to something like what?" Dani presses, inching closer, trying to shield her panicked expression from the gaze of the fans as she turns her back to them. "Just tell me already, I can handle whatever it is you think I can't." She insists, hands subconsciously curling into tight fists at her sides. "So what?"
Lara quiets her voice. "Our label posted a statement on Weverse about how your relationship with Y/N was a PR stunt," she whispers, eyes dark. "They said you both agreed with the whole thing and that they had to make a statement to ensure that everyone knew you weren't continuing it anymore. Because, you know, her fight. But it doesn't feel right, Dani," Lara says, expression shifting into something she can't read well. It's uneasy, almost betrayed. "You always talked about her, you bought her jersey, you gave her a million chances, so... we're confused." She pauses, exhaling quietly. "All of us."
Dani's brows furrow. "All of us?" She spits, incredulous, spinning on her heel to look at Megan and Manon. Albeit her surprise and mixed frustrations, she keeps her voice a quiet whisper. "You two knew?"
Both girls stay silent, exchanging looks before nodding slowly. What else are they supposed to do—no, what else were they supposed to do? When Dani started dumping on Megan, what else was she supposed to do other than listen and try to provide her with some advice? It never came up, any of the articles or the media, and maybe she forgot about it for a split moment because she was trying to listen and be a good friend, but she still knew. Manon, on the other hand, only joined the conversation five seconds ago, so what was she supposed to do?
The Latina turns back to Lara and Yoonchae, eyes wide and tremble clear in her voice. "You think I'd agree to something like that? Seriously, look me in the eyes and tell me you truly believe that I'd go behind all your backs, and Y/N's for that matter, and do some cruel bullshit like that," Dani demands, tears welling. She doesn't know why she's on the verge of tears—she's not sad, it's more so anger at the company and the label that released information that's nothing but fake.
How could HYBE, a label that seems so persistent and on top of safety protocols and protection for their artists, be so careless and inconsiderate of her feelings and opinion on something as serious as this?
"I love her," Dani states, tone firm yet trembling despite herself. "I love her to death, so don't ever fucking question something as dumb and so obviously fake as that." She adds, brows furrowed deeper and eyes narrowed to the point where it's painful. "Who even—I don't... oh, my God, what am I gonna do..." she trails off, glancing back at the fans one last time before immediately booking it behind the curtains. She can't do this anymore, not today, not any time soon with more bad attention of her name and your name and your names together. Everything is falling apart right before her eyes and she's just, what, supposed to standby and watch it all burn?
Without thinking, she sprints to the very back of the makeshift green room and reaches for her bag, pulling out her phone and entering her password with shaky hands and an even more shaky breathing pattern. Immediately, she's met with multiple text notifications and mentions from all socials, most of them from her Instagram. She doesn't waste a second, pulling up Safari with blurry vision and typing into her name next to the label's and quickly skimming through the top results. It's everywhere, the fake news, and... and she doesn't know what to do. What can she do in a moment like this?
She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, sniffling quietly before exiting her browser and opening Instagram, her notifications popping with mentions and messages and nonstop comments. It's a never-ending cycle, a consistent train of attention that follows her through all of her socials—shit, even her TikTok account is getting blown up with comments from your fans saying how wrong she did you and vice versa from her own fans. The internet is a mess right now, torn between defending her and defending you. There's no in between, not that she can see, at least, which frightens her even more.
Bzzz.
A text message comes through, bypassing her DND setting. She almost swipes it away, her first thought going to her managers and the higher-ups on her team that are trying to reach out and get her to agree or make some statement that'll make the label as a whole look better. But nothing that she can say about HYBE or Geffen will ever be nice after this, and it sure as hell won't help the narrative that they aren't manipulating and fully controlling their artists against their will—against their knowledge, for that matter. Nobody had even so much as checked in with her to let her know this was being posted, not even letting her know if she had a say in it. It seems like a recurring theme, her being subject to blindness in situations that directly affect her and her health.
Bzzz.
Dani doesn't ignore it this time. Instead, her eyes drift up and read the name, eyes immediately softening at the edges when she sees who it is. You—'favorite rookie,' as your contact name still reads. She didn't have the heart to change it and she can only hope you felt the same. That doesn't matter right now, though, so she clicks on the notification and is immediately taken to her text messages with you.
And shit.
It's a lot—more than a lot.
favorite rookie the fansigns started already?
maybe that's why you're not responding or maybe that's just what i've been telling myself to make your silence hurt less
whatever it's clear u don't care
but just know that i do. i care i care for you even if you don't care for me anymore. this isn't how any of this was supposed to go. we were supposed to work and get through this together, not go behind each other's backs and make decisions neither of us wanted
we've both done it now so i guess that makes us even
hope ur happy bcz im not im really not ok
i haven't been im sorry
u deserve someone better i don't deserve u. i don't think i ever have. if i did, i wouldn't have lied to you and tried to protect you in my own selfish ways
im sorry u can block me if u want now
have fun at your fansign dani
She wants to cry.
Because, oh my God, you really think she doesn't care.
You think she's ignoring you, think she doesn't love you, think she's doing this as payback for what you did to her, but none of that is true—none of it.
"Fuck," she whimpers. "Fuck, fuck—fuck! "
you y/n no please stop
oh my god don't say things like that when you know they aren't true. you know in your heart they aren't true
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on a sun-drenched getaway to the dominican republic, you and daniela escape the noise of the world and slip into something softer.
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the beach smells like salt and ripe fruit and sunscreen that’s been warming on skin all morning. the sand is pale and fine, sticking to your calves as you walk, the sun sitting heavy but kind on your shoulders. somewhere behind you, palm leaves rustle, a dry whisper against the steady breath of the ocean.
daniela is already there when you reach the towel.
she’s stretched out on her side, one knee bent, skin glowing like she’s holding sunlight just under it. the bikini she’s wearing catches the light in small flashes, tiny reflections that blink every time she shifts. her hair is slicked back, still damp, dark against her neck. she looks relaxed in a way you don’t get to see often. no cameras, no schedules, no one pulling her attention in ten different directions.
she’s holding a pineapple in one hand, cut and hollowed out, a straw sticking from the top like something out of a postcard.
you stop for a second just to take her in.
she notices.
“you gonna stand there all day?” she asks, lips curling into a lazy smile.
you snort. “maybe. it’s a nice view.”
she laughs, soft and warm, and pats the towel beside her. “get over here.”
you drop down next to her, the sand warm through the fabric, and she immediately shifts closer, her thigh pressing into yours like it belongs there. you feel it settle into your bones, that quiet rightness that always shows up when she’s close.
she lifts the pineapple toward you. “try this.”
you take a sip, the juice cold and sharp and sweet. it tastes like summer, like heat and laughter and no responsibilities. you hum in approval.
“damn,” you say. “okay. you were right.”
“i’m always right,” she replies easily, reaching out to brush her thumb along your jaw. her touch is casual but deliberate, like she knows exactly what it does to you.
you lean into it without thinking.
the day stretches out slowly, like it has nowhere else to be.
the ocean pulls daniela back first. she stands, brushing sand from her hips, offering you her hand. you take it, her fingers warm and sure around yours as she tugs you toward the water.
the first wave hits your ankles, cool and teasing. daniela doesn’t hesitate. she wades in like the ocean has been waiting just for her, laughing when the water reaches her waist, then her ribs.
you follow, rolling your shoulders as the water climbs higher, the heat of the sun finally easing its grip. when a wave catches daniela off guard, she stumbles back, splashing you both.
“hey,” you protest, even though you’re smiling.
she grins at you, unapologetic. “my bad.”
then she does it again on purpose.
you lunge for her, water churning around your legs as you grab her waist. she squeals, the sound bright and unguarded, and wraps her arms around your shoulders as you both go under for a second.
when you come back up, she’s laughing, breathless, forehead pressed to yours. droplets cling to her lashes, slide down her cheeks.
for a moment, the world narrows.
the noise fades into the background, just water and warmth and the steady rhythm of your breathing. you’re aware of her hands resting on you, thumbs tracing slow, absent-minded circles.
“i needed this,” she says quietly, like she’s admitting something she’s been holding for too long.
you nod. “i know.”
you float together for a while after that, letting the waves carry you. sometimes she drifts a little farther out and you keep a hand on her wrist, anchoring her without either of you saying it out loud. sometimes she pulls you closer, legs tangling with yours, her head resting against your shoulder.
the sun shifts. time passes.
back on the sand, daniela lies on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, watching the shoreline like she’s memorizing it. you sit beside her, knees drawn up, scanning the horizon.
“you ever think about disappearing?” she asks suddenly.
you glance at her. “like… permanently?”
she shakes her head. “no. just… like this. somewhere quiet. somewhere warm. no expectations.”
you consider it. “yeah,” you say. “but i think i’d still want people. just… the right ones.”
she turns her head to look at you, eyes soft. “me too.”
later, you wander down the beach, barefoot, the sand cooler now. daniela stops every few steps to pick something up—shells, smooth stones, a piece of sea glass she holds up triumphantly.
“look,” she says. “for you.”
you smile. “you’re gonna run out of pockets.”
“worth it,” she replies.
a vendor passes by with drinks, and daniela buys two without asking, handing one to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. coconut water drips down the side, cold against your fingers.
you sit on a low rock near the water, waves breaking just short of your feet. daniela leans back against you, her spine fitting easily to your chest. you rest your hands at her waist, thumbs brushing over warm skin.
she sighs. “promise we’ll do this again.”
you kiss her temple. “yeah. i promise.”
the afternoon light turns golden, everything softened at the edges. daniela stands at the water’s edge, facing the sea, her back to you. the thin ties of her swimsuit sway against her skin as the breeze moves through.
you watch her wade in alone this time, water climbing slowly up her legs. she crouches, hands in the surf, letting it rush around her knees. from behind, she looks peaceful, small against the vastness of the ocean, and still so strong.
something in your chest tightens.
you walk down to her, slipping into the water behind her, and she glances over her shoulder when she senses you there.
“hi,” she says, like you just arrived.
you crouch behind her, your knees on either side of her hips, arms coming around her loosely. she leans back into you without hesitation, resting her head against your shoulder.
the ocean moves around you both, cool and steady.
“thank you,” she murmurs.
“for what?”
“for loving me the way you do.”
you swallow. “always.”
the sun dips lower, the sky streaked with orange and pink. you stay there until the light fades and the air cools, until the beach starts to empty and the day feels complete.
that night, after showers and fresh clothes, you sit on the balcony together, feet propped up on the railing, the sound of waves carrying up from below. daniela curls into your side, one of your shirts hanging loose on her frame.
she traces patterns on your arm with her finger. “this trip feels like a pause,” she says. “like i can breathe again.”
you rest your cheek against her hair. “maybe it’s not a pause. maybe it’s practice.”
she hums, considering. “i like that.”
you talk until the stars are sharp overhead, until the day unspools itself into memory. when you finally head inside, the ocean still hums beneath everything, a reminder that it’ll be there in the morning, waiting.
the next days follow the same gentle rhythm.
beach. water. laughter. quiet moments that feel just as important as the loud ones.
daniela wears that same easy glow, like the sun is doing something extra for her. sometimes she sprawls on the towel with her pineapple drink again, skin shining, eyes half-lidded. sometimes she disappears into the waves, swimming farther than you expect, then turning back with a grin when she notices you watching.
one afternoon, she convinces you to lay back and let her braid your hair, fingers careful and focused. you close your eyes, listening to her hum, feeling the weight of her attention like a gift.
“you trust me,” she says softly.
“yeah,” you reply. “i do.”
on one of your last days in paradise, the morning comes soft.
sunlight spills across the bed in pale gold stripes, warming your skin before you’re fully awake. daniela stirs first, shifting slightly, her knee sliding over your thigh. she hums, low and sleepy, pressing her face into your neck.
“morning,” she murmurs.
you smile without opening your eyes. “you drool.”
she lifts her head immediately. “i do not.”
you laugh, opening your eyes just in time to see her roll them. “relax. i like it.”
she snorts, then leans down to kiss you, slow and unhurried. it’s not desperate or heated. just soft lips, warm breath, the kind of kiss that says i’m here, i’m not going anywhere.
she pulls back, studying your face like it’s her first time seeing you. “you look good like this,” she says.
“half asleep?”
“at peace,” she corrects.
you sit up together eventually, shoulders brushing as you drink bad hotel coffee and watch the beach wake up below. vendors setting up. early swimmers slicing through the water. birds skimming the surface of the sea.
daniela rests her chin on your shoulder. “let’s not do anything today.”
you raise an eyebrow. “nothing nothing?”
“nothing important,” she says. “just… exist.”
you nod. “i can do that.”
by midday, you’re back on the sand.
daniela wears that same bikini again, the one that catches light in tiny flashes, and you can’t help noticing the way people glance at her before quickly looking away. she notices too, but she only shifts closer to you, hip bumping yours lightly.
“you good?” you ask.
she nods. “yeah. i just like being near you.”
you set up your towels close, your bags tangled together. she lies back, one arm thrown over her eyes, the other resting against your leg. you feel her presence constantly. warmth, weight, reassurance.
time slows down in fragments.
you feed her pieces of mango, juice sticky on your fingers. she wipes sunscreen across your shoulders, hands firm and careful. you trade quiet jokes, inside ones, the kind that don’t need explanation.
at one point, she props herself up on her elbows and watches you instead of the ocean.
“what,” you ask.
“nothing,” she says. “just… i forget sometimes that i get to have this.”
you meet her gaze. “have what?”
“someone who chooses me without trying to own me.”
your chest tightens. you reach out, brushing your thumb along her cheek. “i don’t want to own you. i just want to walk with you.”
she swallows, nodding once. “yeah. that.”
the heat drives you back into the water again.
this time, the waves are gentler, rolling in slow and steady. daniela wades out ahead of you, then turns around, water lapping at her hips. sunlight glints off droplets on her skin.
she holds her arms out. “come on.”
you step toward her, and when you reach her, she wraps her arms around your neck, legs brushing yours under the surface. you rest your hands at her lower back, grounding her as the water shifts around you.
she rests her forehead against yours. “you ever feel like the ocean knows things?”
you smile. “all the time.”
she closes her eyes. “i think it knows i’m happy right now.”
you stay like that, swaying slightly, letting the water move you. nothing else matters. not the future, not the noise waiting back home. just this exact moment.
later in the afternoon, clouds gather, soft and slow, shading the beach. the light turns muted, cooler, and the air feels thick with the promise of rain.
daniela stretches out on the towel again, this time on her stomach, chin turned toward you. you sit beside her, tracing lazy patterns into the sand.
“when i was younger,” she says suddenly, “i used to think happiness was loud. like… big moments. stages. applause.”
you listen.
“but this?” she gestures vaguely between the two of you, the beach, the sky. “this feels more real.”
you nod. “loud things fade. quiet things stick.”
she smiles at that. “you always say stuff like that.”
“occupational hazard,” you joke.
she reaches for your hand, threading her fingers through yours. “i’m serious, though. i don’t feel like i have to perform here.”
you squeeze her hand. “good. you don’t.”
the first drops of rain hit the sand, darkening it in small spots. daniela laughs, pushing herself up.
“round two?” she asks.
you’re already standing.
the rain comes fast, warm and sudden, drenching you both in seconds. the beach empties quickly, but you don’t run. you spin daniela around, her laughter bright against the sound of rain. she grips your shoulders, steadying herself, eyes shining.
she kisses you again, rain mixing with salt and joy, and for a moment it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you under a gray sky.
eventually, soaked and breathless, you retreat inside.
you towel her off first, careful and slow, hands lingering just enough to feel intimate without crossing into urgency. she watches you the whole time, expression soft, trusting.
“my turn,” she says, taking the towel from you.
she dries you with the same care, fingers brushing your skin, grounding you. it feels like love in its simplest form: attention.
that evening, you order room service and eat barefoot on the floor, sharing bites and stories. daniela talks about her family, about music she wants to make someday that sounds like this place feels. you tell her about dreams you haven’t said out loud before.
she listens. really listens.
when night settles in again, you sit by the window, watching the rain fade and the moon rise over the ocean. daniela leans into you, quiet now, content.
“promise me something,” she says.
“what?”
“that we won’t forget how this feels when things get busy again.”
you kiss her hair. “we won’t. we’ll come back to it. to each other.”
she exhales, satisfied, and rests her head on your shoulder.
outside, the ocean keeps moving. inside, you hold her close.
and for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel heavy.
lara curls into you like it's instinct—because, in all the right ways, it is—like your chest is where she's always supposed to be settled onto.
she doesn't even ask, just slides closer. forehead tucked under your chin, arms sneaking around your body and resting on your waist with a quiet little sound that's somewhere between a sigh and a relieved hum. manicured nails dance along the expanse of the soft skin on your waist. absentminded, soft, grounding herself after a day of nothing but work. it's been... a long day for her, to say the least, and what's better than coming home to her comforting girlfriend?
cuddling her.
"stay like this," lara mumbles into the crook of your neck, voice warm and weighted with sleepiness that never quite dissolved when she woke up this morning, words pressed into your skin like a tattoo.
when you tighten your hold on her waist, she melts immediately—knees nudging between yours, breath evening out as if the whole word finally slowed down just for this moment. you and her, together, finally. her shirt rides up in the slightest when she shuffles just a fraction closer, humming against your skin without thought. every now and then she tilts her head up, nose brushing your jaw followed by the even pattern of her breath, just to stay silent and lull her deeper into relaxation. just to make sure you're still there, really there.
and, as always, you are. there's never a moment when you aren't there for her. she knows it, too.
at the thought, a smile curls at the edges of her lips, right into your skin for the umpteenth time. lara inches closer—although you're almost one hundred percent sure she'd already as close as she can physically be—all quiet contentment and gentle skin-to-skin flush, like cuddling you is her favorite way to communicate and she's saying "i love you" over and over without needing to verbalize it.
