For an athlete whose main job is to swing at balls coming at him 100+ mph, and whose secondary job to ensure his reflexes are fast enough to dodge said balls, it's just Chris's luck that his first encounter with a potential brain injury is from a head butt to a beautiful, unsuspecting woman.
Said beautiful, unsuspecting woman sits on the pavement. Her face twisted into a mixed expression of pure embarrassment and complete mortification, but Chris figures it would be a bad time to tell her how she blows most of the baseball WAGS out of the water in looks alone. Not before he helps her up, at least.
He holds out a large hand to her with a gentle smile. When her soft palm fits in his, Chris totally casts the blame on the romance books he secretly reads (read: and reviews) alone for the way his heart cheesily skips a beat.
"I'm sorry," he blurts out the second she's upright and stable. The deep timber of his voice somehow gets deeper when he's nervous. "The coffee around here is great, but not so great to be mowing women down for."
He doesn't even realize he's still holding her hand, gently wiping away any pebbles and dirt from her hand with his own as if he's known her his entire life. Hazel eyes run over them over and over for cuts and scrapes, and it's only until he's deemed them both perfect and spotless that he lets them go.
Even still, he cannot help but ask, "Are you okay?"
"I'm f-fine!" She squeaks, and Chris internally notes how cute the sound is.
Absolutely adorable, he internally notes. Every inch of her.
He stretches a long, muscled arm above her head, reaching for the door. While her eyes follow the movement, he uses the other to slip his glasses back onto the door. When she turns to face him again, he's disguised and the door is held open for her to walk through.
"After you," he offers, gesturing toward the inside.
She ducks a bit under his arm and scurries inside, the hints of her sweet perfume hitting his nose. If Chris was more barbaric, he would have stayed outside, selfishly keeping the whiff to himself and not allowing anything else to pollute it. Instead, he steps in behind her, hating the way the strong scent of coffee beans takes that away from him.
His disguise allows him to watch her unbidden, covered eyes following every sway of her hips as she briskly walks to the surprisingly free counter to order. His pace is casual as he steps behind her in line. He's sure to stand far enough that he won't be considered a creep and close enough that he can nosily hear what she's ordering: a caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and extra caramel. It almost makes him laugh. Cute and sweet, just like the woman ordering it.
It's when her hands reach into her purse that Chris intervenes, stepping behind her and speaking directly to the barista at the register.
"I'll pay for it. Add a medium double shot espresso to the order as well, please," he insists, looking down at her when he hands his card over. As expected, she stares up at him bewildered. Her gorgeous, dark brown eyes are wide. Chris would pay for a thousand things for her if it would keep her attention on him like this. "My penance," he whispers down at her, lips tilting up in a smile that he can't seem to stop giving her. "For running you over."
-Pro-Player!Chris Yuu
"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," Daisy protested, but her wallet remained firmly in her purse. There was something disarming about his smile that made her feel warm, maybe even a little nervous?
"I insist," he said, his card already in the barista's hand. Daisy stepped aside, watching him complete the transaction.
For a wild moment, she remembered her horoscope. A chance encounter. This was it, wasn't it? The universe had literally thrown this man into her path—or her into his.
"Double shot espresso?" Daisy asked, raising an eyebrow as the barista scribbled their orders on the cups. "Plain? No sugar, no foam, nothing?"
She studied his face, noting the slight shadows under his eyes despite his easy smile. "You must be either completely insane, utterly exhausted, or both…” She laughs, looking everywhere but back in his eyes because she can already feel the hearts forming in hers. She’s decided he’s too pretty to look at head-on.
Chris chuckled, and she could feel the low rumble of it even from where she stood.
"Maybe a little of both," he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. "I've got a... busy day ahead."
Daisy nodded, finally daring to glance at his face directly.
Bad idea, the worst possible idea.
His features were even more striking up close—strong jawline partially covered by well-maintained stubble, those hazel eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, though she couldn't place it.
"I'm Daisy," she blurted out, immediately wondering why she'd volunteered that information. The trumpets are getting louder. Heat crept up Daisy's neck as she realized she'd just introduced herself without prompting. God, she was making this so awkward.
"I'm Chris," he replied, his voice warm and steady. It was so easy for him to respond, it kind of made her mad— he’s so effortless and she’s floundering.
When their drinks arrived at the counter, he reached for them first, examining the cups before handing hers over.
"Caramel frappe with extra everything for— Daisy," he added, as if testing her name on his tongue.
And just like that, her horoscope came true, and she realized she might just be in deep shit.
As he slips on a hat that eats up his dark brown hair, and slides on the darkest pair of sunglasses in his closet and prays it’ll be enough to obscure him into anonymity, Chris’s mind runs to the time where the quiet was all he knew.
He thinks that time off in Seidou, where his main focus was recovering from his shoulder injury, was God tempting him with the vignettes of a quiet, average life. One filled with moments that couldn’t exactly be called surviving, but ones that weren’t necessarily thriving, either. Just enough that you could die content with ample regrets and somehow not contradict yourself.
Chris believes that when he rejected this idea, and not only pursued the big leagues, but making it in, God’s punishment for his disobedience was this: having to wear layers and layers of disguise just so that he could get a coffee unrecognized.
Stealing a final glance in the mirror, he ensures every identifiable strand of hair is tucked beneath the hat (he’s genuinely considering a wig) before swiping his keys off the counter and heading for the door.
Today, the mission is simple. Coffee run, to his luckily private gym, the supermarket and then home again. And it had to be completed chronologically or else it wouldn’t work.
Which is why Chris is pulling up to his local, yet fairly popular cafe. The Daily Grind had a double shot espresso that would genuinely be worth a few autographs and photos if it came down to it. He parks what he deems as an appropriate distance away to maintain obscurity before hopping out of his jeep.
It’s when he’s walking toward the door that his agent calls him. Answering on the second ring, Chris’s attention shifts to his phone and the call itself. Dangerous, because one, he’s moving, and two, he’s moving.
Scratch that— he was moving.
One moment, he’s answering his agent’s rapid-fire questions. The next, he’s recovering from a two person collision just at the entrance of the coffee shop. His sunglasses slide off his nose on impact. A small grunt slips from him as he stumbles back a step, but his quick, honed reflexes helps him to recover. Immediately, he’s kneeling to pick up his glasses.
But it seems like the person he’s knocked into has the same idea, because they lower to the ground at the same time, causing another head-on collision.
“Jesus,” Chris hisses when their forehead comes in contact with his.
He half expects the forehead to belong to a guy, and fully anticipates to let his annoyance show on his face, but the sweet dulcet of a woman’s voice apologizing profusely knocks that attitude out of him.
Chris’s head snaps up, sunglasses forgotten as he stares at his assailant full-on. She steals his breath away. Her beauty is something that only can be matched with the heroines of books he’s read. She’s rubbing her head while her mouth moves, but Chris can barely hear her or his agent over the roaring in his ears.
He might be concussed, or he may have just found the love of his life.
— Pro-Player!Chris Yuu
@souyaszn you KNOW how I feel. YOU KNOW.
Daisy’s morning routine was simple: morning doomscroll, get dressed, walk to the cafe downtown to get a matcha einspanner and almond croissant. She did it practically every day before work, so today would be no different. She also had one last ritual before leaving her apartment. It was silly, maybe to some, but Daisy couldn’t start her day without checking her horoscope.
“A chance encounter today may change your perspective,” she read, raising an eyebrow. “Stay open to unexpected conversations.”
Daisy snorted, shrugging it off. Immediately she thought of a cliche romcom trope. She actually couldn’t wait to avoid encountering anyone except the barista who would pour her her usual and send her on her way.
She grabbed her keys and phone, tucking them into her canvas tote before heading out. The hallway of her apartment building smelled faintly of someone’s burned toast, and she wrinkled her nose as she walked to the elevator. The same flickering light in the corner still needed fixing. She’d mentioned it to the building manager twice already.
Outside, the morning air had that peculiar spring crispness that made her lungs feel clean. Like fresh overnight rain and jasmine bushes that waft a little hint of sweetness every once in awhile. She pulled out her phone as she walked, plugging in her earbuds with one hand while navigating the sidewalk. The latest episode of some true crime podcast loaded as she swiped away a notification from her banking app. Something about a suspicious transaction, but probably just that subscription renewal she’d forgotten about.
The familiar intro played as she typed out a quick text to her groupchat: Rooftop at Elysian this weekend? They have a new cocktail menu, we ca—
Her phone flew from her hands, clattering onto the concrete as she stumbled backward, ass hitting the pavement just as hard.
“What the fu—“ The words died in Daisy’s throat as she looked up, ready to unleash her frustration on whoever had barreled into her. But the tall figure silhouetted against the morning sun made her pause mid-expletive. A pair of concerned hazel eyes stared down at her, framed by dark eyebrows drawn together in worry. The man attached to those eyes crouched beside her, one hand extended.
Oh god. He’d just watched her completely wipe out on the sidewalk.
Heat crawled up her neck and into her cheeks. She scrambled to her feet, brushing dirt from her hands and the back of her jeans, mortification making her movements jerky and uncoordinated.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out. She avoided his gaze, mortified that her first human interaction of the day involved sprawling across the sidewalk like a toddler learning to walk— in front of someone that was that cute.
So much for a chance encounter… this was the worst possible way for that to happen.
The first whiff of Daisy’s perfume in his nostril dizzies him. Her proximity, even with all the social distancing she’s attempting, sends every system keeping his body standing in overdrive. Her beauty, Shin thinks, could outperform the hottest volcano on the planet. Mid-eruption.
Daisy is stunning. Even when she looks as if she’d rather be swallowed by the ground than look him in the eye.
“Dais,” he mumbles low, peering down at her. He’s always loved their height difference. Loved the fact that she’s smaller than him. Loved the fact that it’s never deterred her from letting him have it. He pulls at his collar to prevent his arms from unconsciously reaching for her. “Beautiful as always.”
He doesn’t even need to look at the guys to know that they’re wincing. His stomach drops.
“Sorry. I just mean that you—”
“It’s okay,” Daisy says good-naturedly. And Shin almost wants to be angry at the way that she’s beautiful in that composure, while he’s about to burst into flames of embarrassment. But he can’t. Anger was never something he could hold against his ex-wife longer than a few minutes.
“I’m going to pretend that I’m not disheartened by my sister’s complete lack of confidence in us getting this done,” Shin grumbles playfully, tucking his hand into the jacket’s pockets. “Are we really that hopeless?”
“We?” Mikey parrots, brow ticking up.
Ken scoffs and Baji snorts. “She definitely sent Daisy out for you two,” the former says. “And maybe Baji.”
The latter’s face falls. “I do not need supervision.”
A chorus of “debatable” echoes through the room and it makes Daisy giggle. The notes of her laugh make Shin thinks he’s died and went to heaven for a second. Quick as she’s started, she stops and Shin remembers they’re standing in a suit shop for his sister’s wedding and the ring finger on Daisy’s left hand is bare of his ring and it’s clear to him that this could never be heaven. Not in a million years.
“So Dais,” Mikey starts, flopping down into the couch of the dressing room with a sigh. “What’s on the agenda after playing babysitter?”
Shin barely pays attention to what she’s said. Moreso, he’s focused on her mouth and the shape of it. The gloss on her lips. The way they move as she speaks. She’s breathtaking. Always has been.
She chances a look at him and Shin’s reminded God’s testing him and he should at least attempt to pass, so he gives her a smile he prays doesn’t look like a grimace. Hopes he hasn’t given away the way he’s been shamelessly ogling his ex-wife. Starts to frown at the fact she’s his ex-wife and not his current and only and forever wife and then stops frowning because he doesn’t want her to think he’s ever upset with her at any point of time in his life.
“Well, we were going to lunch after Shin figures out what his size is,” Mikey says, embarrassing Shin further if he didn’t need help before. “You can come with, if you like. Y’know, just to make sure we don’t kill ourselves ordering appetizers.”
Before Shin could even attempt to counter that he does not need anybody to tell him his size, fingers are reaching up, tugging the suit jacket collar down and flipping it over to display the number sewn to the back. Daisy’s touch, even the barest of them, makes him want to burst into flames. His nails press hard enough into his palms to draw blood. Just so he doesn’t move on instinct and pull her into him.
If you’re hearing me up there, he silently pleads to the sky. Help. I’m not strong enough.
“This is perfect,” Daisy says, and Shin agrees. He has the perfect view of her gorgeous face. He has her hands on him (his collar really, but he’ll take what he gets). And she’s not looking at him like she wants him dead. “Good fit.”
It takes Shin a moment to realize she’s talking about the jacket and Shin already knows he’s buying it. Regardless if it’ll be used in Emma’s wedding or not. The fact that Daisy’s touched it—the fact that she’s still holding it between her fingers— is all the stamp of approval he needs for purchase. Hell, he might’ve bought it even if it didn’t fit. He’s that weak to the woman.
So much for passing any tests.
— Ex-Husband!Shinichiro
ooc: me when I forget to unsave the draft
Daisy's fingers lingered on the collar a moment too long. She pulled her hand back, suddenly aware of the heat rising to her face. The tailor nodded approvingly, making notes on a small pad as he circled Shin, measuring and marking.
"Join us for lunch," Mikey repeated, his smile so genuine and hopeful that Daisy felt that familiar tug of family she'd been missing.
She quickly withdrew her hand as if the fabric had suddenly burned her. Lunch. With Shin. And the guys. The thought made her pulse quicken in a way she didn't want to acknowledge.
"I..." Daisy hesitated. The pressure of five pairs of expectant eyes made her chest tighten. She had half the mind to look at him, her ex, to get her out of this awkward situation—a reflexive habit from years of silent communication across crowded rooms—but caught herself mid-glance.
"I should really get back to Emma," she said, the excuse tumbling out before she could think of something better. "We have the florist meeting in an hour, and—"
"The florist meeting is tomorrow at two," Ken corrected, checking his phone calendar. "Emma just texted me about it."
Daisy bit her lip. "Right. Of course. I meant... the cake tasting."
"That's next week," Ken replied, eyebrows raised. "You're the one who scheduled it, remember?"
Both lies felt clumsy on her tongue. In truth, she had no plans for the afternoon, just a date with her couch and whatever baking show would distract her from the emptiness of her apartment.
She glanced at the hopeful faces surrounding her, feeling cornered like a mouse in a maze. "Fine," she said, giving in with a small sigh that deflated her shoulders. "Lunch sounds... nice."
The words came out softer than intended, almost whispered. Daisy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, finding sudden interest in the pattern of the carpet beneath her feet.
Mikey whooped and clapped her on the shoulder. "Yes! The gang's back together!"
Daisy couldn't help but smile at Mikey's enthusiasm. The way his eyes lit up at her acceptance made her heart warm—he'd always been like a little brother to her, it had been that way long before everything else. But as the others cheered their agreement, her gaze instinctively drifted to Shinichiro. Their eyes met across the fitting room, and she read the quiet resignation in his expression—the same trapped feeling she was experiencing.
She mouthed "I'm sorry" to him when the others weren't looking, a silent acknowledgment that she understood this wasn't easy for him either. This unexpected reunion wasn't something either of them had planned for today.
The single life, Shin admits, is taking a bit of time to get used to.
He’s realizing this as he stands in the line at the grocery store, offloading half of the cart that he packed on autopilot, filled with Daisy’s favorite foods, cravings and guilty pleasures. His smile is sheepish, doubly so at the deadpan expression of a cashier who watches him toss a tub of ice cream to the side. His actual cart is small. Ground beefs, chickens, vegetables, rice, spaghetti for when he’s feeling frisky.
Gone are the days where he’d buy pounds of sausage, okra and ham for Daisy to make a steaming bowl of gumbo that would keep him warm for days.
He’s had to Pavlov their coveted takeout restaurants to accept his order only. God only knows how much it’s gutted him to hear the operator ask if he’s sure he doesn’t want to add (insert Daisy’s favorite dish) as if it was something he would have ever forgotten before. Often, he wonders if she still visits the Chinese restaurant not too far from their apartment. He wonders if she still thinks that their Singapore noodles are the best in town or whether memories of him make it all taste blander.
These are things he contemplates coming home from the gym, put off by the darkness of his apartment as he scrambles for the light switch, or when he has to shower in scalding hot water to relax muscles that used to be lovingly rubbed down with Icy-Hot.
His singleness is even more obvious at night, lying alone in a king bed that once had a queen. No longer does his blanket get ripped off of him in the middle of the night. He often wakes up in a sweat, wrapped up in a defensive burrito blanket he doesn’t need anymore.
Work would be the only place he could say remained Daisy-free, but Shinichiro’s starved himself more times than he can count waking up late fully expecting a lunch made with a handwritten note and meeting air and the bitter taste of memories.
His newfound singlehood, since the divorce has been finalized, has never been more apparent than now… at the suit fittings for his little sister’s wedding.
The receptionist at the suit store looks at Shinichiro appreciatively. His knee-jerk reaction is to flash his ring and tell her that his wife would kill them both. The bareness of his left ring finger burns just as much as the indent of his nails into his palm when he clenches his fist. He gives her a tight smile.
“So you’re the big brother?” She asks, shameless in the way she looks him over.
“That would be me,” he responds, looking around for any of the other groomsmen.
“They’re waiting for you in the back.” Her head juts to the left where the corridor sits. Her jaw works with the gum she obnoxiously pops. Smirking, she looks at him through her lashes. Shin wonders if she knows they’re pitifully clumped. “The big brother need a dat-“
Ken Ryuguuji’s an angel, Shin thinks, for the way he appears just in time. “Shin? You comin’ or what?”
“I am!” Shin scurries after the man. “Don’t ask,” he orders, not needing to look at Draken to know he’s confused.
Walking down the corridor, Shin immediately meets the other groomsmen: Mitsuya, Takemichi, Baji and…
“Shin!” Mikey beams, suit jacket hanging loosely off his shoulders while he waves.
Shinichiro’s heart instantly lightens. Family has that kind of effect. “Hey, Mikey.”
He greets the others with nods and handshakes. Draken hands him a suit off the rack.
“Emma says this would fit,” the blond tells him.
Shin’s brows pinch. “Emma knows my size?”
Draken shrugs. Shinichiro’s heart leaps at the thought that Daisy gave Emma all the specifics. It races at the thought that she still keeps that kind of information at the forefront of her mind— the same way he knows her favorite perfume, her preferred burner on the stove, her ancestral altar, her crystals that can be charged in the sun and which ones can’t go under water, her—
“Shin,” Draken calls, still holding the suit. “You still with us?
Yeah… the single life’s taking a while to get used to.
-- Ex Husband!Shinichiro
ooc: returns from the pits of migraine hell for this
The bell above the door chimed as Daisy pushed her way into the suit shop, she'd deliberately crashed the guys' scheduled fitting time—a strategic move to ensure everything was just as Emma wanted; definitely not so that she could see how Shinichiro was doing. The shop smelled like pressed fabric and cedar, a heady mixture that instantly transported her back to her own wedding preparations. She pushed the memory away, focusing on the task at hand.
The attendant glanced up, recognition flashing across her face. "Oh! You're here for the bridesmaids' measurements?"
"Actually, I'm just checking in on the guys," Daisy replied, trying to sound casual. "the bride wants me to make sure the vests match the exact shade of her color palette— without ruining her first look, of course!"
The girl at the counter pointed toward the back, still popping her gum.
"Down that hallway," the girl said, blowing a bubble as she pointed.
Daisy thanked her and headed toward the back room, smoothing her sundress and taking a deep breath.
"Gentlemen!" she called out, her voice bright and airy. She made a show of covering her eyes as she peeked through the door. "How are my favorite groomsmen doing with their fittings?"
Mikey was the first to spot her, his eyes lighting up.
"Daisy!" he exclaimed, abandoning his half-buttoned vest to rush over and envelop her in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite Sano!” She giggled, “I didn’t know you’d be here for fittings this soon— when did you get in?”
“Just a few hours ago," Mikey beamed, setting her down but keeping an arm draped around her shoulders.
Baji bounded over next, his usually fierce demeanor softened as he wrapped Daisy in a warm embrace. "If it isn't my favorite wedding planner! Em said you've been keeping her sane through all this madness."
"Someone has to," Daisy laughed, the genuine warmth from these men—men who had been like brothers to her at one point or another—loosening something tight in her chest.
"I'm just here to make sure you all look suitably handsome," She made her way through the room, her gaze sweeping over the various stages of suiting up. She hugged Ken next, the groom's tall frame enveloping her completely.
She moved through the room, hugging Mitsuya and Takemichi, her smile fixed firmly in place. Each embrace felt like a small victory—proof that she could still be part of this family, even with the divorce. But she'd been deliberately avoiding the corner where Shin stood, his reflection multiplied in the three-way mirror. Finally, with no one else left to greet, she turned to face him.
Shin looked good. Painfully good. The charcoal suit jacket hugged his shoulders perfectly, and even half-dressed for the fitting, he carried himself with that quiet charm he always held— it made his presence commanding. Their eyes met, and instantly Daisy was transported back to another fitting room, three years earlier. She remembered how nervous he'd been that day, fussing with his cuffs, questioning if the midnight blue was too bold for a groom. He'd insisted on wearing a suit that complemented her dress rather than the traditional black.
"I want us to match," he'd said.
She remembered how his hands had trembled slightly when she'd fixed his boutonnière, how he'd looked at her like she was the only person in the universe. They'd been so young, so certain— and now they were something else entirely. Not lovers, not strangers— just… two people with a history that was being rewritten.
“Shin,” she said sheepishly, hesitating to hug him, and landing on an awkward clasping clap of her hands. Her stomach felt like it was doing backflips.
Shinichiro frowns down at the soft pink invitation, the hints of rose perfume wafting from the card stock. He told Emma that reprinting wedding invitations weren’t necessary. That she was creating unreasonable expenses for her and her fiancé. That he already received an invitation.
He tells her again when she calls his phone moments later.
“I had to reprint yours,” his sister says as if it were obvious. “The first invitation was addressed to Daisy and Shinichiro Sano.”
Just like that, Shin’s chest feels as if it’s caving in. The mere mention of his ex-wife’s name is enough to cleave straight through him. Then, it all comes back to him: the past six months of court dates, lawyer fees divorce settlement agreements, the gradual moving of her stuff out of their shared home and eventually? Nothing.
Cold air on the skin where kisses once lay. Silence that her giggles would fill. Preparing meals for one person when it used to be two. Always for two.
“Shoots, Shin,” Emma apologizes, interrupting the playback of the most devastating moments of his life. “I’m sorry. I know it’s still fresh.”
“It’s fine.” The lie comes out so weak that Shinichiro has to clear his throat to get the two words all out. Awkward silence follows. Emma knows he’s lying and Shin knows that she knows. Neither acknowledges it. Then, because Shinichiro can’thelp himself but to ask… “Is she still-“
“Coming?” Emma finishes. “She is. Just attended our first bridesmaid meeting last week.”
Shinichiro’s lips twitch despite himself. Daisy might have been completely done with him, but she still loved his family. That fact made his heart kick.
Emma mistakes his silence for something else. “If that makes you uncomfortable, Shin, I can pull-“
“No,” Shin answers instantly. “I’m okay. It’s your wedding, Em. You don’t have to rearrange your special day to accommodate me. Daisy and I are adults. We can coexist in the same place for a day.”
He tries not to think about how he would have never imagined a day in his life there’d be an occasion where he and Daisy weren’t dying to be in the company of the other.
“Are you sure?” He can hear Emma’s furrowed brow on the other line. He can’t help his smile.
“Positive. Now can you stop spending me and Mikey’s money on reprinted wedding invites and put it towards a honeymoon cruise or something?” His sister’s answering laugh makes his heart soften, and their conversation eventually trails off to frivolous things that allows Shinichiro’s mind to wander far away from the fact that he and his ex-wife will be standing in the same wedding.
And not as a couple.
-- Ex-husband!Shinichiro
ooc: when. i get you.
The aftermath of the bridesmaids' brunch looked like a crafting store had self-destructed, leaving behind a wake of champagne flutes, gift bags, and enough tissue paper to insulate a small country. But Daisy didn’t mind— Emma was happy, and that was all that mattered.
"You're gonna need some help with all this...." Daisy gestured at the explosion of wrapping paper and ribbons and starting to clean up bit by bit.
Emma looked up from where she was carefully organizing a stack of cards, her cheeks flushed from champagne and happiness. "
That would be amazing. I had no idea we'd get so many gifts at just the engagement party. The wedding's going to require a separate apartment."
“Em, Ken is going to get you a house— you know that man is NOT going to keep you in an apartment,” Daisy laughed, gathering more armfuls of crumpled tissue paper. "Buuut, you might need a storage unit... especially if all of these are just engagement party gifts.”
Emma sighed contentedly, running her fingers over an ornate crystal vase. "I've already started making a spreadsheet to track thank-you notes. This is overwhelming, but in the best way." She paused, tilting her head.
"So what did you and Shin do with all your wedding gifts? Did you guys have a system or—" Her eyes widened as soon as the words left her mouth.
Daisy felt that familiar twist in her stomach.
“Dai, I’m so sorry I—didn't think."
"No, it's totally fine." Daisy waved her hand dismissively, plastering on a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She bent down to pick up more paper, using the moment to compose her face. The phantom ache of her wedding registry—all those boxes they'd checked with such certainty—tightened her chest. She straightened, smile firmly in place.
“He’s your brother, after all— and it’s barely been a month.”
A few of their wedding gifts had gone unused, sat in their once shared apartment, some still in boxes. The phantom weight of her wedding ring still haunted her finger sometimes. She could feel Emma watching her, that pitying look she'd grown to recognize, and not wanting to ruin the moment she wraps her arms around the blonde.
"Stop it— I promise, It's okay," Daisy said softly, squeezing her friend a little tighter. "I want everything to be perfect for you. And yes, that includes standing beside you at the altar, even if Shin is standing there too."
Emma pulled back, her eyes searching Daisy's face. "Are you sure? Because I would completely understand if—"
"Stop." Daisy placed her hands on Emma's shoulders. "He's your brother. I'm your friend— your chosen family. This wedding is happening, and we're both going to be there for you.”
Emma squeezed her hands. "I'm just sorry it's so complicated."
"Life is complicated," Daisy replied with a small shrug. “Weddings are complicated— I planned one, I would know” she giggles.
The truth was, Daisy had rehearsed this moment in her mind dozens of times since the engagement announcement. She'd practiced her smile in the bathroom mirror, had tested out different versions of "I'm fine" until one sounded almost convincing. Because Emma deserved this happiness without the shadow of Daisy's failed marriage hanging in the balance.
It struck her then—standing in this cheerful chaos of celebration—that being in Emma's wedding meant standing at the altar with Shin. Being a bridesmaid while he was a groomsman meant coordinating for photos, rehearsal dinners, dances. It meant having to actually talk to him, something they hadn't done since their last court date.
And Daisy, who was rarely at a loss for words, had no idea what to say.
an underground street racing roleplay inspired by tokyo drift.
set in early 2000’s japan — where illegal night runs, drifting culture and tight knit crews collide with real consequences. this is a character driven rp focused on racing, rivalry, romance, found family and the slow climb through the underground scene.
preview: the plot.
ꉂ ᵎᵎ raidori !! is the underground racing world’s annual, invite only expo!! crews from tokyo, osaka, los angeles, miami, brazil and beyond come together for three nights of partying, drugs, car shows and racing.
until it collapses. the last night ends in a crackdown. the expo is shut down and all street racing are declared highly illegal in japan. names leak, garages get raided and anyone connected is on a watchlist.
japan’s government has implemented temporary travel restrictions. passports are flagged. flights monitored. names are circulating. foreigners who came for the expo, leaving japan isn’t simple!
now the scene survives in fragments — hidden meets, rerouted highways, coded bulletins and quiet alliances. some racers disappear. others double down. every run risks fines, arrests, or worse.
⚝・┆ this roleplay is open to:
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » original characters
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » self-inserts
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » anime characters
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » hoyoverse characters
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » otome characters
⚝・┆ what we offer:
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » novella to semi literate writing, plus optional rapid fire roleplay systems in place if you don’t feel like pumping out long form writing. we’ve all been there.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » progression earned through races or believable character growth. we have a gaming system for racing with points we keep track of in a spreadsheet. earn those points!
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » underground street racing with a structured rank (S - F).
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » a living city spanning tokyo, osaka, kyoto, and okinawa.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » a beautifully crafted server to spend your time in.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » server wide events, expos and rewards. your hard work and activity will be greatly appreciated and rewarded through nitro gifting, gift cards, etc! we believe that talented and friendliness should be showcased and celebrated!
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » we also celebrate self shipping and much more!
⚝・┆ requirements & other things to note.
adults only (21 and older preferred).
application required to join.
activity matters — if you choose to participate, you’re expected to meet minimum activity requirements.
no pillow princessing — this is a collaborative server; engagement and contribution are expected.
this server will cap at 25 active participants and 60 members total. the additional members will be placed on a spectator waitlist and can join once spots open. join while you can! ₍^. .^₎⟆
⚝・┆ themes
illegal racing, car culture, urban nightlife, rivalry, nsfw, dark themes, consequences, slow burn progression, game, japan.
a royal fantasy au | anime-inspired | plot-heavy & character driven
For the first time in a century, the Crown sits unclaimed… and the Season of Ascension is about to begin.
Welcome to Auremveille, a royal fantasy au where ballroom grace melts into political intrigue, magic hums beneath marble floors, and every smile hides a secret. Inspired by bridgerton-style aesthetics, anime media, and high fantasy lore reminiscent of novels, this is a collaborative writing space for storytellers who adore scandal, romance, and quiet war disguised as courtship.
𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫
Auremveille blends regency elegance, anime-influence, and high fantasy lore into a story-driven Season full of courtship, rivalry, secrets, and magic. This is a small roleplay server that is heavily plot driven, with an emphasis on meaningful storytelling and long-term character arcs.
𝐀 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬…
♛ — space for ages 20+, we do age verify with birthdate.
♛ — dark content and nsfw friendly.
♛ — we welcome oc’s, self inserts & selfships.
♛ — activity and commitment rules will be practiced.
♛ — we ask you bring characters from following fandoms for participation, including but not limited to:
haikyuu, wind breaker, tokyo revengers, hoyoverse, my hero academia, attack on titan, jujutsu kaisen... and many more!
📝 APPLICATIONS ARE NOW OPEN!
This server application-based and intentionally small — around 10–15 committed writers — to ensure a tight, story-focused experience. The Mod Team will be reviewing applications carefully to create a group that’s engaged, collaborative, and excited to build meaningful plots together!
💌 INTERESTED?
If you want to help shape the fate of the Crown, you can apply here.
Reblog, apply, or send us questions! We can’t wait to welcome you into the chaos (and whimsy) of the Season.
The gates of Auremveille are open — shall we see you at court? ✨👑
We’re pleased to inform you that your lease has been approved.
Your unit has been cleaned, the keys are ready for pickup and management wishes you a warm welcome to Cherrywood Apartments — the walls are thin, the neighbors are nosy and every unit has their own story. What’s yours?
🍒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃
The Cherrywood is an online discord roleplaying server set in a cozy brownstone community set in Boston, where every resident shares walls, hallways and secrets. Life here seems ordinary at first glance! Neighbors greet each other, laundry gets done and the city thrives outside— but everyone has their own stories, rivalries and hidden lives. From casual friendships to tense conflicts, steamy encounters to mysterious happenings, The Cherrywood is a place where every unit has a story and every resident has a role to play.
𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎
꩜ — 18 and older only. We ask for birthdate.
꩜ — dark content and nsfw friendly.
꩜ — we welcome oc’s, self inserts & selfships.
꩜ — activity and commitment rules will be practiced.
꩜ — we ask you bring characters from following fandoms for participation, including but not limited to:
— haikyuu.
— windbreaker.
— demon slayer.
— jujutsu kaisen.
— attack on titan.
— tokyo revengers.
— my hero academia.
— genshin impact.
— love and deepspace.
— and many more!
Cherrywood Brownstone Community – Invited Residents
You have been granted access to The Cherrywood. Please use the link below to enter the community and settle into your assigned apartment! We look forward to welcoming you! Don’t forget rent is due on the first..
We’re pleased to inform you that your lease has been approved.
Your unit has been cleaned, the keys are ready for pickup and management wishes you a warm welcome to Cherrywood Apartments — the walls are thin, the neighbors are nosy and every unit has their own story. What’s yours?
🍒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃
The Cherrywood is an online discord roleplaying server set in a cozy brownstone community set in Boston, where every resident shares walls, hallways and secrets. Life here seems ordinary at first glance! Neighbors greet each other, laundry gets done and the city thrives outside— but everyone has their own stories, rivalries and hidden lives. From casual friendships to tense conflicts, steamy encounters to mysterious happenings, The Cherrywood is a place where every unit has a story and every resident has a role to play.
𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎
꩜ — 18 and older only. We ask for birthdate.
꩜ — dark content and nsfw friendly.
꩜ — we welcome oc’s, self inserts & selfships.
꩜ — activity and commitment rules will be practiced.
꩜ — we ask you bring characters from following fandoms for participation, including but not limited to:
— haikyuu.
— windbreaker.
— demon slayer.
— jujutsu kaisen.
— attack on titan.
— tokyo revengers.
— my hero academia.
— genshin impact.
— love and deepspace.
— and many more!
Cherrywood Brownstone Community – Invited Residents
You have been granted access to The Cherrywood. Please use the link below to enter the community and settle into your assigned apartment! We look forward to welcoming you! Don’t forget rent is due on the first..
Pocket Realm Studios acts as a curator of immersive roleplay worlds providing settings, lore and structured alternate universes for roleplayers. This network is 20+ designed specifically for anime and manga fans, original characters (OCs) and self insert storytelling.
You’re not just a part of any old network, we develop and release fully fleshed out worlds that you can join and explore. We will be releasing new immersive worlds for people to dive into with an engaged and talented community.
⋆. 𐙚 “𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣” ᝰ.ᐟ
1. ⋆. 𐙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙩.
Familiarize yourself with our community rules, roleplay etiquette and content guidelines.
2. ⋆. 𐙚 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.
Complete the Pocket Realm Studios Application Form (available here on our blog). The form includes:
Basic Information (Name, Username(s), Roleplay Experience).
Character Submission (For OCs and Self Inserts).
Sample Roleplay Response (A short writing sample based on a prompt).
Roleplay Style.
3. ⋆. 𐙚 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙖𝙡.
Our moderators will review your application within 24-72 hours. If approved, you’ll receive a welcome message with links to join. If we need clarification, we may ask for revisions.
4. ⋆. 𐙚 𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 (𝙄𝘿 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙙).
Pocket Realm Studios is a 18 plus roleplay network. To ensure a safe space for all members, we require valid ID verification before approval.
5. ⋆. 𐙚 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩!
Help us spread the word.
— ⋆. 𐙚 Accepted Forms of Verification:
A government issued ID (license, passport, etc.).
A student ID with birthdate.
Any official document that shows your date of birth.
— ⋆. 𐙚 How to Submit:
You may blur out sensitive details except your name and birthdate.
Submission is handled through a secure Discord verification channel or a private email to [email protected].
Once verified, the document is not stored and will be deleted immediately for privacy.
5. ⋆. 𐙚 𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙢.
Once accepted, you can: join worlds and interact with fellow roleplayers, participate in events, voice calls, share commissions and have a place to indulge in your selfships!
origamiaround
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
jacobvanloon
