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missadangel · 1 month ago

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MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 5: Falling Hard

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Chapter Summary: Harry is becoming increasingly attached to you, while you remain absorbed in your work. Despite your efforts to keep your distance, his persistence pulls you in somehow without you even realizing it. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 11,5k, oops, feelings!!! fluffy, rom-com and little angst... authors note: Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

Monday…

The building superintendent handed you the key to the penthouse you were tasked with cleaning. He pointed out where to find the cleaning supplies and outlined the dos and don’ts for the job. Although you were already familiar with these details, it was evident that the penthouse owner was either extremely meticulous or had a unique approach to things.

Donning your black maid uniform with the white collar, you loaded all the essential supplies into the elevator. Since you were heading to the top floor, you knew you needed to bring everything with you, and the other cleaners—who were incredibly kind—offered their assistance since it was your first day. It felt almost as if they had been instructed to help you, although you might have been less surprised if your boss wasn't someone like Jack. Nevertheless, you appreciated their kindness; you had landed the job you’d been searching for much sooner than expected, and you didn't want to question the situation too closely.

Once you stepped into the elevator, you didn’t bother to look back and see how many floors the attendant pressed. But you wished you could. The floor indicator ticked up: 28, 29, 30, 49, 59... Just how many floors did this building have? It finally reached 69, 70, 71, and 72 before the elevator chimed in to announce your arrival. If you hadn’t visited the Empire State Building and stood on its observation deck, this might have been the tallest building you had ever entered.

As you exited the private elevator, you turned right toward a large, wide door that led directly into the penthouse. Stepping inside, you couldn't help but gaze around in wonder. The penthouse was a two-story, full-floor duplex with ceilings towering about 14 feet high, providing stunning 270-degree views of the city.

From this high vantage point, the beauty of Columbus Circle and Central Park unfolded spectacularly alongside a stunning view of the Hudson River. Even the distant outlines of New Jersey and the airport were visible, while Harlem looked simply incredible from above. The building reach such heights that you felt almost level with the Empire State Building visible in the distance.

On the first floor, there were two-bedroom suites featuring a spacious living room, two adequately sized bathrooms, and a fairly large kitchen. One of the suites had a locked door, and the doorman mentioned that the landlord had specifically warned against entering that room. You found yourself curious about the reason behind it but ultimately shrugged it off; surely, there must be a good explanation. Perhaps the owner was someone who kept cash hidden away due to a distrust of banks, or maybe someone who was just a hoarder of illicit funds—who could say? You didn’t really mind as long as you were being compensated well for your work.

Upstairs, you discovered the largest dressing room you'd ever encountered, along with a spacious bedroom, a generous bathroom, and a terrace that resembled a mini-garden. The walls were adorned with white plaster, and the beautiful oak hardwood floors featured a unique pattern, with seamless AC diffusers tucked into the corners. Between the living room and kitchen, there was a wet bar that was almost larger than the living room itself, stocked full of drinks. Two wine racks, a wine fridge, and a long counter occupied the space. Above it, a full glass cabinet showcased an impressive collection of wine glasses, clearly displaying its contents. Just around the corner sat the dining area, furnished with a table that could seat twelve. Every corner was lined with glass panels and columns, offering a stunning, panoramic view that made getting too close to the edge feel a bit precarious.

The sheer size of the house and its mesmerizing views left you unsure of where to begin your cleaning tasks. Fortunately, it seemed the landlord wasn’t a messy person. Aside from some unwashed dishes in the kitchen and a few scattered clothes in the dressing room, there wasn’t much to tackle. You hadn't encountered luxury homes like this often, and each experience made you a bit anxious. Typically, wealthy landlords tended to throw frequent parties, making cleanup afterward a real chore. Thankfully, it was clear that a single man inhabited this space; there were no signs of a woman or child around. The state of the sheets on the bed indicated he wasn’t a frequent one-night-stand type either. This was a relief, especially when recalling the dirty, grimy sheets you had encountered in other homes. Meticulous and solitary clients were truly the best.

However, there was one aspect that unsettled you: the home security cameras.

Damn technology.

The owner could easily connect to them at any time from his phone or tablet. Since you’d never experienced anything like this at Jack's house, the presence of cameras here felt intrusive. But you tried to push the thought aside; they surely weren’t going to monitor your every move, were they?

After vacuuming the house and mopping the floors, you leaned against the wall for a moment to catch your breath. The chairs looked high-end, and you hesitated to sit down, feeling uneasy about using someone else's belongings, especially with all those cameras around.

“Oh, I’m so thirsty,” you mumbled, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Frustration bubbled up as you recalled the water bottle back in your bag downstairs, the room where you changed was on the ground floor. Just then, you heard a noise coming from the kitchen, and you could have sworn you heard the sound of water.

Was the refrigerator actually filling a glass with water?

You blinked in disbelief. “Is it broken or something?” you wondered aloud. “Has technology really come this far that a fridge can respond to our needs?” But your throat was parched, so you decided to drink. To your surprise, when you placed the glass back, it started to fill again. Hesitant yet curious, you took another sip and jokingly told the refrigerator to stop. To your astonishment, it actually obeyed. “Is this place haunted or what?” you looked around. “Even ghosts are picky about where they hang out. I can’t blame you, buddy—if I were a ghost, I’d want to haunt a place like this too.”

You chuckled at the thought.

“What’s so funny?”

Harry looked up from his iPad, embarrassment crossing his face as Maria scolded him. He had completely lost track of the meeting. Disengaging the network communication with the fridge while keeping the app active in the background, he took out one earbud and tried to refocus on the discussion. However, the urge to laugh lingered, your voice still echoing in his mind.

"This is the most fun I’ve ever had at work," he thought to himself.

Once the meeting wrapped up, he headed to his office and opened the app again. A smile crept across his face as he saw you bustling around in the kitchen. For reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint, he derived joy from watching you wash the dishes. Zooming in on your face, he let out a deep sigh.

“How can you be this beautiful?” he murmured.

He continued to watch you, lost in thought.

“You really-,” Maria chimed in, hovering over him and staring at his iPad. “That’s not right, Harry.”

Without tearing his eyes away from the screen, he snapped, “Don’t start.”

“Seriously, go talk to her instead of watching her on camera like a creep,” she said.

“I did.”

Maria leaned against the edge of the table. “And? Did she turn you down?”

Harry swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

“Wow, this girl is truly something. All right, as your buddy, I’ll help you win her over. I’ll be your wingwoman.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “No need. I’ll handle it. I’ve hurt her enough already.”

"Really? You think it'll be better if she finds out you've been watching her like this? Honestly, if someone did that to me, I'd want to kick their asses. I thought there were no more lies between you two."

"I'm just trying to make things right. The company wasn't going to call her anytime soon, so I helped her get a job."

“Well, I can’t be mad about that. Why don’t you invite her to the wedding? The invitation is for two, you know.”

“I know,” he sighed deeply.

“You’re worried she won’t want to go with you.”

“She keeps saying she doesn’t belong in my world,” he said ruefully. “I don’t want to pressure her.”

“I get that, but you won’t lose anything by asking,” she said, standing up and heading towards the door. “And just a heads-up, Harry, don’t get too comfortable with her working in your place without knowing anything about it. The truth has a way of coming out eventually, so keep that in mind.”

Harry knew she was right, but he felt more helpless than ever. All he wanted was to be near you, to close the distance between. As he watched you walk toward his bedroom on the screen, he focused on how he could win your heart.

As you were changing the bed sheets, a familiar scent caught your attention, causing your heart to skip a beat. You picked up the pillow and took a whiff—it was the same as Harry's perfume. You smiled, remembering him, and thought about if he lived in a house like this, maybe even one a bit more luxurious. As you draped the new sheets over the bed, memories of your last conversation took hold. Part of you yearned to toss aside all your pride and aspirations, eager to leap into his arms. Yet another part of you felt terrified—more scared than ever before. The ache from that night in the hotel room was still fresh, and the thought of facing that pain again filled you with dread.

All these years, you had pondered what love truly felt like. The relationship you once believed was love had ended, morphing into something you never wanted to undergo again.

You had sealed that chapter away.

But this feeling was different, far from what you had experienced before.

Could this be love?

Could it encompass both joy and heartbreak simultaneously? The answer frightened you, yet it also ignited a desire you couldn’t shake.

You wanted to belong to him, and deep down, you knew you couldn’t resist him for too much longer.

And it frightened you.

Damn it, he occupied every thought.

No, you needed to clear your head.

After finishing up in the bathroom, heading back to the living room, your phone rang. It was Melanie, and she was a bundle of frustration. Jack made it clear he didn’t want her back and wouldn’t forgive her. Anger bubbled up as she said she wouldn’t live in your "disgusting little flat."

“Then leave!” you shouted, exasperated.

Hearing your voice, Harry looked back at the screen and wondered who you were talking to.

“Don’t you have any rich friends with big, fancy houses?” you asked. She certainly had plenty, but it looked like even they weren’t willing to lend a hand on a day like this. What a way to show friendship!

“I already tried! None of them will help me because they’re scared of my father!” Melanie's voice was laced with desperation. In the background, you could hear water running. “What’s wrong with this damn shower?” she yelled.

“You’ll just have to wait; the hot water takes its sweet time,” you replied, dusting off the bookshelf with a cloth.

“Oh great! Even the water in this pathetic house is terrible!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the phone, prompting you to pull it away from your ear.

“Then why don’t you just go wash at the homeless shelter? It’s free!” you shot back.

“Ha-ha! Very funny!”

After hanging up the phone, you glanced at the clock, your stomach tight with hunger. You were almost finished, but the house was so vast that it would take you another hour. You sank into one of the kitchen chairs and rested your head in your hands. Just then, your phone rang again. With a sigh, you answered without checking the screen.

“I told you to get the hot water-”

“Hey, beautiful.”

You froze. It was Harry's voice.

“I was wondering if you would consider avoiding me over lunch?”

You exhaled sharply. “I can’t, I’m still not done here.”

“Let’s just grab lunch, and then you can get back to work. How would the owner even know?” He stifled a giggle.

“Actually, he does. There are cameras all over the house. Some people are just strange like that.”

“Smart move to have cameras in the house. He must be clever.” he bit his lower lip to stifle his laugh.

“Wait a minute, I didn’t tell you my job today is cleaning this place.”

There was a pause.

“But you're a housekeeper. Isn’t that what you do?” Harry mentally kicked himself for that slip.

“Um, yeah, right. Anyway, like I said, I can’t join you for lunch. Enjoy your meal.”

“But-”

You hung up the phone and rested your head sideways on the kitchen counter. Harry let out a frustrated sigh as he watched you on the screen, mirroring your position by placing his head down on his table. “You don’t know how much this hurts,” he muttered. “Seeing you so worn out and down. I could make it all easier for you. When will you let me?”

Just then, Oliver opened the office door and peeked in. “Hey, aren’t you going to lunch?”

“No, you go ahead,” Harry mumbled, still not looking up. As soon as Oliver left, a lightbulb went off in his head, and he grinned as he dialed a number on his phone.

“But I didn't order this.”

As you were in the middle of ironing, you noticed the elevator bell ring and saw the delivery guy from the Chinese restaurant at the door.

“Well, this was sent by the cleaners downstairs. They insisted I bring it to you since they ordered it for themselves,” he explained, his words tumbling out quickly and nervously. It was clear he was in a rush, but the delicious aroma from the food wafted through the air, making you squirm to eat something.

“Okay, thanks then,” you replied. “How much do I owe you?” Then you remembered that you had left your bag downstairs and sighed.

“No, no, no, it’s already paid for. Bye, ma’am,” he said, stepping back into the elevator and pressing the button.

“Bye,” you mumbled, waving farewell. After he left, you picked up the bag, walked inside, and set it on the kitchen counter. You bit your lip in excitement as you began unpacking the food. You were so hungry that the thought of being watched on camera didn’t bother you; after all, your back was to it.

“Eat well, kitty,” Harry murmured, checking you. The young man who delivered your meal had just brought his order to his office and now he was now enjoying his own food while watching you—unbeknownst to you, you were both savoring the same meal.

Once you finished eating, you tackled the rest of the ironing and neatly put everything away in the wardrobe. You noticed there were quite a few suits and casual clothes in there. It struck you as peculiar that they all seemed to reflect Harry's style, but you brushed it off, thinking that plenty of other people must dress similarly.

Finally finished in the afternoon, you gathered all the cleaning supplies and made your way to the elevator.

“She works like a bee,” Harry remarked, glancing at you as you dragged the supplies into the elevator. He was packing up to head home.

Yes, the very same house you had just meticulously cleaned.

At that moment, your phone rang again. It was Melanie. You let out a deep sigh before picking up, feeling a surge of annoyance. “What now?”

“Did you talk to my dad? You’re the only one who can convince him—please,” she pleaded.

What the fuck?

Pleading now, huh?

Bitch must be desperate.

“Who said I would?” you said, pushing the vacuum cleaner into the elevator. “Why would he listen to me? He kicked me out too, remember? I warned you, Melanie! I warned you from the beginning that this was how it would end.”

“Did you just say ‘Melanie’?” Harry murmured.

“Because of you, I lost my job and...”

I fell for someone I shouldn't have.

“Then call your boyfriend and let him sort it out! I can't stick around here any longer!” she barked.

“My boyfriend?” you exclaimed in disbelief.

Harry's surprise matched yours. “Boyfriend?” he echoed, frowning as he focused intently on the screen.

“Harry is not my boyfriend!” you shot back.

“Oh really? He was banging on the door of our house like crazy that day, looking for you,” Melanie said.

You sighed in resignation. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

“You really believe that, beautiful?” Harry muttered. “Then you clearly don’t know me at all.”

“Whatever! I need to do something—anything—to get Dad's attention,” you replied, your frustration mounting.

“It’s none of my concern. Do what you want,” you snapped, hanging up the phone and pressing the elevator button.

“Oh, she's gone,” Harry said, pursing his lips. He closed his iPad, slipped it into his briefcase, and left his office.

As you stepped out of the building and made your way toward the subway, the sky was gradually darkening. You attempted to call Jack again; you really needed to do something to help Melanie find a place to stay. She was like a ticking time bomb, and you were tired of dealing with her drama. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer, still seemingly caught up abroad. Frustratingly, you were left with only one option—the one you most dreaded: reaching out to Melanie's mom. But that fell flat too, as a maid informed you that she was busy attending some special event. Clearly, that was more important than her own daughter. But you knew you had to tackle this tonight.

When you got home, Zoe was eating food at the table and waved at you. “How was your day, honey?”

“It would’ve been fine if someone hadn’t been calling me constantly and whining,” you replied, casting a glare in Melanie's direction.

She looked somewhat out of place in your homewear outfit.

“Listen, your mom is attending a charity event tonight. Why don’t you go there? She can give you a ride home while your dad is away, and maybe she’ll help mend things between you and Jack. After all, you are her daughter.”

Melanie shrugged like a petulant child. “She doesn’t care about me.”

Well, she had a point.

“I’ll go with you and try to convince her, okay?”

Her eyes brightened. “You’d really do that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Let's go now!” she exclaimed, rushing for the door.

“Are you sure about this?” Zoe asked.

“You want to get rid of her, right?”

“I definitely do, but what if it becomes a hassle for you?”

“Don’t worry; I’ve dealt with worse,” you said with a wink.

“Oh no!” Melanie moaned.

“What’s wrong now?” you asked, turning to her.

“I have no clothes! What am I going to wear? All of your clothes are terrible.”

“What the—” Zoe snapped, shooting her a glare.

“I’m this close to changing my mind,” you said, squinting at her and gesturing with your fingers.

She crossed her arms defiantly. “If this is a private event, there’s no way I can go there dressed like this. They wouldn’t even let us through the door. Oh, wait! I’ve got it!” she exclaimed, whipping out her phone to call someone.

Of course, it was exactly who you suspected.

Nate.

"I hate my life," you muttered under your breath as Nate's limo pulled up alongside the street.

"Good night, ladies. Need me desperately huh?"

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, feeling the frustration bubble up inside.

“Shut up chucklehead! Did you bring the dress?” Melanie shot back at him.

“It’s inside, so come on and change babe,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

Without a second thought, Melanie hopped in, but you hesitated.

"I brought you one too, babydoll. Why not wear it? I'd be happy to help," he grinned wickedly.

“I wouldn’t wear that even if it was the only dress left in the world,” you snapped back.

He let out a maniacal laugh. Once Melanie finished changing, she called you over, and reluctantly, you climbed in. The charity event was being held in a private hotel reception hall. Just as Melanie had warned, the door staff were strict about who they let in. The guests were all dressed in tuxedos and elegant dresses, an atmosphere that highlighted your discomfort.

“Listen up, four eyes,” Melanie fired at the doormen. “My mother, Roxelana Johnson, is in there, and I’m her daughter, Melanie Johnson. Let me in now, or I’ll create quite a scene!”

“You’d be surprised how scandalous she can be,” Nate added with a smirk. “My father has covered up plenty of scandals, but maybe tonight he'll let the hotel earn a notorious reputation. And guess what? You’ll be the one to blame for it. After all, you know my father—the whole of New York does.”

They exchanged glances, and eventually, they allowed them to pass. But you were left standing outside. There was no chance they'd let you in looking like this. Frustration washed over you as Melanie and Nate didn't even look back.

What the hell?

You just stood there, questioning your decision to come at all.

"Why did I even bother?" you whispered to yourself.

They could have walked in wearing anything, thanks to their wealthy father, but you didn't have that kind of privilege. You had no wealthy father, no reputation.

“I’m such an idiot,” you grumbled, turning to head toward the exit when suddenly someone called out to you.

Oh no.

Alan appeared before you, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, and with a woman on his arm.

Fuck my luck, you thought.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he said with a smile.

“Same here,” you replied, feeling a tad anxious.

“Why don’t you come in?”

“I was actually just leaving, Alan. Clearly, I’m not dressed for this. Good night,” you said, glancing at him and his date.

That’s when your phone rang. It was Harry.

Perfect timing.

“Harry, this really isn't the best time,” you answered.

“Why not? Are you okay?”

“Let the lady through. She’s my special guest,” Alan interjected, gesturing to the doormen.

You immediately turned your back. “Alan, there’s really no need for that.”

“Did you say Alan? Why are you with him? Where on earth are you?” Harry growled from the other end of the line.

You hung up and looked at Alan. The woman beside him shot you a strange look. “Alan, it wouldn't be right for her to go in looking like that anyway.”

Alan ignored her gaze, stepping away from his date to approach you. “You can go in first, Lucy.”

She looked taken aback but narrowed her eyes at you before complying.

What was her deal?

“Alan, you didn’t have to do that; you brought your date. You should go with her.”

“Don’t worry about it. It looks like you’re dealing with something. Lemme help you.”

“Honestly, it’s been a long day. All I want is to go home and unwind.”

“Where are you? I’ve been looking for you!”

You heard Melanie's voice and turned to see her. She looked at Alan and then back at you.

Finally, you stepped inside. Alan offered you his arm, but you gently pushed it away. The moment you entered, however, you noticed everyone staring at you oddly. You were used to it, though. Melanie’s mom, Roxelana, didn’t look pleased to see you or even Melanie. They had a small chat and instead of sending her daughter home, she decided it was better to make alternative arrangements for Melanie to stay. Without missing a beat, she turned her attention to her friends, completely ignoring her daughter’s presence.

Yeah just like that.

Melanie was accustomed to her mother’s self-centered behavior, so it didn’t bother her too much. As her spirits began to lift, she and Nate decided to stay for the rest of the night. But you felt the urge to leave. When Alan introduced you to a few guests, you were taken aback when he referred to you as the assistant chef at his hotel.

Why the hell was he being so kind to you?

The others, however, were anything but kind. The way they looked at you was unsettling and harsh. They maintained eye contact that felt uncomfortable, speaking about you in a derogatory manner. It was clear they didn’t care if you overheard or were hurt by their words.

You didn't belong there. You felt it deep in your bones.

You had intended to leave anyway, but when Roxalena approached and dismissed you so coldly—accusing you of embarrassing her—you turned and hurried out. No one at the event seemed to notice your departure; some even let out a sigh of relief.

What did you expect? Was it not obvious this was how things would go?

As you made your way to the lobby, you heard Alan’s voice calling after you, but you didn’t stop; you only quickened your pace. You felt a wave of relief wash over you when you stepped outside through the revolving door, yet Alan followed you.

“Why did you leave?” he asked. “Look, don't mind them, okay?”

“How can I not?” you retorted. “Why did you even let me in? What were you expecting?”

Alan reached out, gently brushing away a tear from your cheek.

Were you crying?

Damn.

You hadn’t even realized it.

A sudden screech of tires caught your attention as a car came to an abrupt stop in front of the hotel. Harry jumped out and rushed towards you. The moment he spotted your tears, he seemed to lose it, pushing Alan's hand away with enough force to make him stagger.

“What did you do to her?” he shouted, taking a step toward Alan.

“Harry! Stop!” you exclaimed, extending your arm to block him.

Alan simply smiled, which only fueled Harry's anger.

"It’s not what you think; please, calm down,” you urged, grabbing Harry's arm.

Ignoring him, Alan turned back to you. “I’ll see you at the hotel then. Good night,” he said, and you nodded. “Good night, Castillo,” he added awkwardly before walking back inside.

Harry glared after him, his jaw tight, muttering under his breath.

What on earth was going on between them?

“How did you know I was here?” you asked.

“I was invited tonight,” he replied, still focused inward, not meeting your gaze. “But I turned it down,” he said, taking your arm gently. “Come on,” he insisted, tugging you towards his car.

“But I—”

“Get in,” he ordered, his tension palpable as he closed the door a bit too roughly before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Harry pulled up his car on the street in front of your building, parking awkwardly on the sidewalk. You bit your lower lip to stifle a laugh.

"You might want to reposition the car; there's still space on the curb," you suggested, glancing at the sidewalk in the rearview mirror.

"Instead of thanking me for the ride, are you being sarcastic?" he asked, a lopsided grin on his face.

You barely mumbled, "Thanks."

"Why were you at that place?" he asked.

"Because of Melanie, but that's not important anymore. I've handled that situation; there's truly nothing left to talk about," you replied, looking down at your hands in your lap.

A tense quiet settled between the two of you.

“You,” he cleared his throat, “You always manage her this way all that time. Why?"

You hesitated, unsure how to understand his inquiry. "Why what?"

"Why did you decide on this job?"

You shrugged. "I didn’t get accepted into any top university or secure a high-profile position. When I got here, this seemed like the simplest option. I had already been taking care of the house after my mom passed away," you said, a trouble laugh escaping your lips. “I could never manage waitressing like Zoe; that job is simply not for me.”

“But your dream is to be a pastry chef,” he said thoughtfully.

"To make that dream a reality, I need to work hard, save money, and eventually open my own restaurant. At Jack's place, I didn’t have to stress about rent, food, or even clothes; it felt like a closer step to my dreams. I thought if I could just endure anything, I’d save enough. But then there's Melanie..." You lowered your gaze once more. “Anyway,” you said, brushing a stray hair from your face. "I'm going to push on, I'm going to have my bakery one day," you said with determination.

He reached for your hand and took it, his touch surprising you as it always did.

“Let me help you get started with the restaurant.”

"Harry—"

“As a loan,” he interrupted. “Think of it as an investment; I believe in your potential. When your restaurant gains traction, you can pay me back.”

"That sounds a bit too idealistic, don’t you think? I thought you were more of a realist or a materialist?"

The intensity in his eyes deepened. “That perspective changed when I met you.” His gaze drifted to your lips as he leaned in closer. Your heart raced, but you instinctively pulled back. Your hair brushed against his face, causing him to close his eyes and smile softly.

You grasped the handle of the car door. “I should probably get going now.”

"Are you free this weekend?"

Turning to him, you responded, "I'll be at the hotel helping Chef Bruno."

“At Alan's hotel,” he retorted harshly.

"Is there some issue between you and him?"

"You should stay away from him."

"Excuse me?"

"Can't you work somewhere else? There are plenty of other chefs."

"Don't pull that with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're acting like you’re my husband.”

Harry grinned at how the words slipped from your lips. “Your future husband.”

You raised an eyebrow. "Says who?"

"Me." He flashed a smile.

You rolled your eyes and opened the door. “Good night, Harry.”

“Hold on,” he said, reaching for your door and shutting it again.

“I’m invited to a friend's wedding this Sunday night. I want you to come with me.”

"Why on earth would you want to go with me? I’m sure there are plenty of women who would kill to go with you," you replied with a hint of sarcasm.

He frowned, "Cut it out. I want to go with you, not them."

As you looked into his eyes, memories of the previous moments crept back—the way people had stared at you. You knew it would only intensify when they saw you and Harry together. It wasn't your realm, and the fear of being hurt loomed over you.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't go."

“Yes, you can,” he insisted.

You shot him a glare.

“Just think about it before making up your mind,” he said, flashing his charming smile.

He never gave up.

“Give me your phone,” he said, reaching out.

“Why should I?” you asked, frowning.

“I realized you don’t follow me on Instagram,” he mumbled, searching for your phone while glancing over at you.

"What did you say?”

Suddenly, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close, causing you to gasp as your heart raced in your throat. As he tightened his hold, your back arched, his other hand slowly slid up your leg and pulled your phone out of your pocket. He laughed softly as he let you go, leaving you feeling tricked when you noticed your phone in his grasp.

“Hey! Give that back!” you shouted, lunging at him, but he leaned back out of your reach.

“Here, now you're following me, and I'm following you,” he said, flashing your phone. "Why is there nothing on your profile? The last post was six months ago."

Ah, that was a photo of you and Zoe at the beach in Florida, six months prior.

“Nice bikini,” he commented with a grin. "I need to like it right away. You’d better like mine too."

"Really? I had no idea you were into Instagram," you snapped, reaching for your phone, but he showed no signs of giving it back. “Hey, what are you doing?” you exclaimed as he opened his profile from your instagram, liking all his photos while giggling.

“Cut it out,” you growled.

He acted like a mischievous child.

Once he was satisfied with his likes, he handed your phone back to you.

"Happy now?"

He grinned and nodded. “Yep.”

You felt the urge to slap him, but damn, that face.

His ridiculously handsome face.

“Okay, if we’re done here, I’m heading home to get some rest,” you said, opening the door.

“Hey, you look so cute here, like a little kitten,” he teased, showing you one of your Instagram photos.

Rolling your eyes, you stepped outside and closed the door behind you. “You better put that phone away while driving,” you frowned.

He rolled down his window and looked at you. "Why? Worried about me?"

“No, I’m worried about this stunning car,” you mocked.

“Yeah, right. Keep saying that, kitty. I know you better than that,” he said suggestively, winking at you before starting the car and driving off.

Tuesday…

The next day, as you woke up and read the message from the cleaning company, you could hardly believe your eyes. It said, "The owner was very pleased with your service. He'd like you to come back on Thursday. If it works for you, we’d love to schedule you for Mondays and Thursdays moving forward. I’ve also credited your account with the tip he left for you. Thank you for your hard work and for partnering with us."

When you opened the app to check your bank account, you sat up in bed and even stood up in disbelief. Was this real? Typically, tips hover around 10% of your earnings, and if you’re lucky, you might get a 20% tip from especially generous clients. But this customer had tipped you more than 50%. If you kept earning like this, your weekly pay could turn out to be much better than you ever imagined. It brought you joy, but a nagging suspicion lingered. The house hadn’t been particularly messy or dirty, so you hadn’t exerted yourself much while tidying it up. Perhaps he was just a generous soul, and you decided to sincerely thank him.

However, Thursday still felt far off, and with the company notifying you that there was no other work until then, it made you uneasy. They reassured you that you’d receive general payment every two weeks, but something didn’t sit right. You pulled out your phone to investigate the company online, and that’s when a message from Harry popped up.

Harry sent you a photo. After a moment of deliberation, you felt compelled to change his contact name. You opened your contacts, found his number, and edited it, removing "H.C." and replacing it with "Mr. Ol'man" before saving it. You chuckled at the change, amused by your little joke.

You clicked on the photo, noticing Harry was already at work. The image showed him in the middle of a meeting, chin resting on his hand, lips pursed. Directly below the photo, he’d written,

B-O-R-I-N-G, I wish I had my kitty with me. 😓😓

He used emojis???

You couldn’t help but laugh; he was undeniably adorable.

You texted back, "I wish I could be there to..."

Wait, what?

Were you his girlfriend? You quickly deleted the whole thing.

Hang in there, monsieur. 😊 It’s tough, but I’ll manage. ☺️ You’ll get through it; trust your biceps. 💪 Were you dreaming about my biceps? What was that like? Nasty? Filthy? 😏 😉😌😇😚 Don’t you dare make a cleaning joke!

The banter made you both laugh; it was fine since you were at home, but Harry was in a meeting, earning surprised glances from those around him.

Since you didn’t have work that day, you decided to drop by to see Danilo and the others. Apparently, Jack was still away, and neither Melanie nor her mom was home—perfect timing. You spoke with Danilo about Chef Bruno and the cooking certificate you aimed to obtain. He mentioned a pastry fair soon to be held at a convention center in NYC, emphasizing how crucial it was to participate and showcase your talent. But first, you needed that certificate, and weeks were slipping by.

You had paused the certification program while working at Jack's house—understandably so. However, that time frame had lapsed, so it was time to restart the petition. That’s why securing Bruno’s reference for your application was so vital. Everything had to be ready before the fair, leaving you with no time to waste. As Bruno’s shift started at noon on weekdays, you resolved to visit him during your free hours—and thankfully, he didn’t turn you away. In return, you promised both to him and yourself that you would work hard and strive not to disappoint him.

Wednesday…

On the way to the hotel, Harry called you, and when you shared where you were going, he got a little whiny. Whatever issues had arisen between him and Alan didn’t concern you anymore; you simply didn’t have time for either of them. In a way, it was a blessing that you were busy with the certificate training because if you weren’t, thoughts of Harry would have preoccupied your mind, stirring up feelings you had never experienced before. It felt as though you were being drawn towards him, and you worried about losing control of your heart. So, it seemed best to avoid being alone with those feelings.

The less you saw him, the easier it was to keep him off your mind, which was for the best.

But he was persistent.

When you arrived at the hotel during lunchtime, Bruno was sitting with a newspaper and a cup of coffee, getting ready for his shift. He assigned you the ambitious task of preparing the desserts for lunch, which could very well be the biggest job you’d had so far. Still, it was far better than scrubbing someone’s filthy toilet bowl with bleach. You focused on preparing the desserts and took a seat next to Bruno, feeling the fatigue set in.

Just then, a waitress approached you.

“Ugh, it’s one of those customers again!”

“What’s going on?” you asked while stretching your legs out under the table.

“He has a complaint about dessert and wants to talk to the chef who made it.”

You exchanged glances with Bruno. “I swear I did it perfectly,” you protested.

“Then go defend your work, my dear. That’s a lesson you need to learn,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee.

You stood up and took a deep breath, confident that you had indeed done everything right. Surely, this customer just had high standards or a grumpy ass.

You were taken aback when you stepped into the dining room and saw Harry. He flashed a grin when he noticed you and leaned back in his chair. You narrowed your eyes as you approached him.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“Just having lunch like everyone else,” he replied casually.

“Isn’t there anywhere else you could eat?”

He pulled out his phone and showed you a recommendation app featuring the hotel with a glowing review. “They rave about the chef and the food here—look, it’s rated 4.8.”

You crossed your arms. “I’m not a chef yet, Mr. Castillo.”

“But you made this dessert,” he countered.

“True, but clearly it didn’t meet your expectations.”

“I never said that.”

“Yet you wanted to see me.”

“To ask if you’d join me for lunch,” he said, leaning over the table and resting his arms on it.

“I’m on the clock,” you reminded him.

“Please, I insist.”

You leaned in closer. “Or is it that you want me fired because you don’t want me working here?”

He smirked. “If that were my aim, I’d find a more subtle way to go about it.”

You sighed. “Harry, please, I really have to work.”

“I’ve missed you and thought it would be nice to savor something you made during my lunch break,” he said, sounding genuinely sincere. “But I suspect your stomach is growling; you probably skipped breakfast. Why not give the dessert a try? I have a feeling there’s something unusual about its fruits.” He nudged the plate toward you. “As a paying customer, I expect nothing less than the best.”

With a roll of your eyes, you reluctantly picked up the plate. “Alright, Mr. Castillo, let me show you that you’re mistaken.” You took a forkful and sampled the dessert. “See, I think it's quite fresh.”

“I’m still not convinced. Have some more,” he said, barely containing his laughter. “Otherwise, I might have to leave a bad review on that site.” He glanced at the others around.

You shot him a sharp glare and quickly finished off the dessert, clearly not bothering to be polite. “Are you happy now?”

“That's my girl,” he whispered, chuckling softly.

“Please give us good points, Mr. Castillo,” you said with a forced smile, relieved that the people around you were preoccupied with their own meals and hadn’t noticed your exchange.

Harry stood up, reached for your lips, and swiped the remnants of dessert with his thumb, licking it clean. “Hmm, you were right—it’s delicious,” he said with a grin. “Have you made up your mind? Will you come with me?”

Oh, right, you had completely forgotten.

“Shall we go dress shopping? What time do you need to leave?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

“Harry, I really shouldn’t go.”

He took your hand, his grip firm. “No, it’s better if you do.”

“But your friends, your circle, your acquaintances will all be there.”

“And?”

“What will you say when they ask about how we met? How will you introduce me?”

“That’s none of their business. I don’t care about any of them; all that matters is that you’re with me.”

You lowered your gaze. “But I do care.”

He pinched and lifted your chin, his gaze intense. “Don’t do this. You know how much I care for you. I know you do.”

You locked eyes, and for a moment, the clatter of forks, spoons, plates, laughter, and conversations faded into silence. You were on the verge of saying yes, of becoming his, but you shook yourself back to reality when someone called you from the kitchen.

“I have to go,” you murmured.

“I’m picking you up Saturday night, and we’re going dress shopping,” he said, and before you could reply, he turned and walked away.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him leave.

Thursday…

You left the house at the same time as Zoe that morning, rushing to avoid being late for work. It was nearly 8 o'clock, so you hurried along the sidewalk, gathering your hair into a ponytail as you ran.

“Crap. Crap. Crap.”

By the time you reached the building, it was just after 8, but fortunately, you managed to avoid a scolding. Just like on Monday, you quickly changed, grabbed your cleaning supplies, and hopped into the elevator heading to the top floor. When you opened the door to his apartment, he was already on his iPad, waiting for you with a smile. “Seven minutes late,” he smirked.

"What are you doing?" Maria appeared next to him, and upon seeing you on the screen, she narrowed her eyes at Harry. “Again?”

“I was just checking,” he replied defensively.

“Yeah, right.”

Harry let out a sigh and flipped the iPad over onto the table. “She didn’t leave me much choice. I offered to help her, but she’s so stubborn and prideful. She left me feeling desperate.”

Maria raised her eyebrows, intrigued. “Seriously? Wow, I’m impressed. I thought women like that were a thing of the past. She must be one of a kind.”

“Yes, she is,” he said, looking troubled. “For the first time in my life, I’m not happy about having money. To her, my wealth doesn't matter. What good is money if she’s not in my life?”

Maria smiled softly. “Harry, she might just be feeling scared or hurt right now. Just give it some time; if it’s true love, it will work itself out. But I have to be honest, it might be a bit challenging for you.”

“I get it,” he replied with a sigh. “I’m really trying.”

"I am your witness champ. You'll win her over." she patted him on the back.

After she left, he opened his laptop to work but found himself too curious about you to focus. He picked up his iPad again to check on you. He watched as you swept and mopped the house, dancing around and murmuring songs while doing it. He couldn’t help but chuckle quietly when he saw you scrubbing the sink with a frown, grumbling to yourself as you battled the dirt.

Saturday...

“What in the world happened to you?”

As soon as you got back from the hotel and walked into the house, you were stunned by what you saw. Zoe was sprawled out on the couch with her ankle all wrapped up, and John was right there with her.

“Oh, just a little accident,” she grumbled.

“It’s totally my fault,” John said, sounding really upset.

You dropped your keys and bag on the table and went over to check out her leg.

“John wanted to pick me up on his motorcycle after work, but I guess that plan got derailed,” Zoe said with a half-smile.

“It’s not broken, is it?”

“Nope, just a sprain,” he replied, looking glum.

“Then why do you look like you’re on your last legs?”

“I can’t go to the wedding tomorrow like this,” she said sadly.

“Then just skip it.”

"Besides, the doctor said you won't be able to stand on your foot for a few days." John added.

“But the pay is really good,” Zoe whined. “The boss is gonna be mad, and I’m sure he won’t call me again.”

“C’mon, it’s a medical issue,” you said, frowning.

“Our boss isn’t as easygoing as yours,” she sighed.

Well, that was kind of true.

“She’s got a point, Zoe. I’ll talk to him,” John offered. “Maybe I can get that kid from last time to cover for you. What was his name?”

“Nick? No way! There’s no chance the boss will hire him again after that mess,” Zoe muttered, then looked at you. “Babe. Can’t you go instead?”

You stared at her in disbelief. “Me? But you know I’m not great at waitressing.”

“You’d totally be better than Nick,” she insisted. “Plus, John will be there to help you, right?” she said, looking at him.

John nodded. “Sure, we’re leaving early anyway. You just have to handle serving drinks. I promise I won’t wear you out.”

You sighed and glanced from him to Zoe’s pleading eyes.

“Alright, fine,” you murmured.

Sunday, the day of the wedding...

“Guess what? Your tuxedo is here—perfectly pressed and ready to wear,” Oliver announced as he walked into the apartment. Harry was at the window, staring out at the beautiful city lights, his whiskey glass in hand, the ice nearly melted. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hardly realized it.

You had called him about half an hour ago to let him know you couldn't make it to the wedding and hung up without realizing the depth of the hurt you had caused him.

“The dress and accessories you ordered have arrived too,. Where should I put them?”Oliver asked, glancing at Harry, who still hadn't responded. The dress had been bought for you, with the hope that you would be there by his side.

Harry turned sharply, slamming the glass down on the counter as he looked at Oliver. “Somewhere I won’t see them,” he replied curtly before heading off to the bathroom to shower and prepare himself.

Oliver let out a deep sigh. “So she’s not coming,” he muttered to himself, a hint of worry in his voice.

They arrived a bit early since the wedding kicked off with a church ceremony. Maria, noticing Harry's somber demeanor and understanding the reason behind it, felt a wave of concern mixed with anger. Yet, as his friend's best man, Harry set his own feelings aside for the day, striving to support him through the difficult moments.

It was tough.

He longed for you to be there with him, wanting to introduce you to his friends and proudly declare, “Here’s my future wife.”

He felt a mix of anger towards you, but even more frustration with himself. Why couldn’t he make things work? Why was this time so different? He thought back to his previous relationships, and suddenly, all the emotions from those experiences felt trivial compared to the warmth of your genuine smile—the one he missed dearly.

Things took a turn for the worse upon arriving at the reception venue. The empty chair beside him at the reserved table served as a painful reminder of your absence. Conversations swirled around him about life's changes, but he spoke only of work, avoiding the topic he truly wanted to share.

Then he spotted her.

Lucy.

To his surprise, he felt nothing.

It was a strange peace that washed over him, as if a burden had been lifted from his heart, shoulders, and mind. But soon enough, the resentment toward you crept back in. Lucy glanced curiously at the empty chair next to him, a slight smile gracing her lips as she noticed his solitude. She had come to the wedding with her new boyfriend, Alan Finnegan—a widower and wealthy businessman who owned three hotels in Manhattan. Seems like a good match for her.

Harry felt a sense of satisfaction, not because his ex wouldn’t hurt him anymore—he had already stopped caring about that. No, his pleasure came from knowing that Alan was off the market. With Alan in a relationship, it meant he wouldn’t be trying to make a move on his girl now.

Later, someone approached Harry to inform him that the groom was looking for him. Rising from his seat, he made his way over to the room where he found his friend pacing restlessly.

“Harry! Dude, don’t ever get married!” he exclaimed, his voice laced with stress.

Harry raised an eyebrow, checking his watch. “Come on, man, you’ve only been married for three hours. Besides, it's your wedding reception.” he shot back sarcastically.

“Ugh! Everything is a mess! Gabriela is unhappy with the flowers, her cousin’s late, the harpist is hurt, and our moms just had a huge argument! I feel like I’m drowning! Should I just jump out the window?”

With a chuckle, Harry placed his hands on his shoulders. “Relax; we’ll figure this out. Oliver is currently searching for a replacement harpist. Today is the most important day of your life—you’ve been waiting for this forever. Just hold it together.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay,” he replied, trying to steady his nerves.

“Take a deep breath and remember why you’re here. Soon, it’ll just be the two of you together—nothing else will matter. Just get through tonight, and I’ve got your back, alright?”

He pulled him into a warm embrace. “Thanks, man! I really appreciate you being here. I’ll do my best to make your wedding as great as possible.”

Harry smiled to himself as he pictured you in a breathtaking wedding dress.

After leaving his friend to deal with the flower situation, he noticed a woman at the end of the hall with her back turned. She had your hair color and height, moving in a way that felt distinctly like you.

Driven by curiosity, he quickened his pace, eager to find out if it really was you.

"Damn it!" you muttered to yourself as you sprinted away, frantically searching for any exit. You were convinced it was Harry. Why did it have to be at the same wedding?

Why, God why?

You set the tray down on the nearest table and dashed outside, struggling a bit in your high heels. You were hesitant to look back, but you could feel him coming after you.

“Fuckin' hell,” you muttered under your breath.

You made it outside and rushed toward the stairs, but your foot tripped over the edge, and your right heel came flying off.

Great!

You tried to awkwardly hop down on one foot, but it was a dumb move, and you could hear footsteps closing in as you held onto the marble ledge.

“You must be a real Cinderella.” Harry's voice rang out, causing you to freeze. When you turned to face him, you were taken aback. He was holding your shoe and looked absolutely stunning in that tuxedo. You weren’t certain if you were Cinderella, but you certainly felt as though Prince Charming was right before you.

As he saw you raise your other foot, he came closer and knelt down in front of you. You looked down as he carefully slipped the shoe back onto your foot, admiring his hair and how handsome he appeared while he softly held your ankle.

Your heart racing.

He chuckled as he stood up. "The shoe fits perfectly, my princess. But why did you run away? The clock hasn't struck midnight yet," he said with a laugh.

You mumbled while adjusting your foot, “I thought you'd be angry with me.”

“I tried, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.” He continued, “When you mentioned helping Zoe, you didn’t say anything about being a waitress. I thought you didn't like this job."

"I don't, but I had to help her out by covering for her," you replied.

“You’re already worn out during the week,” he said, his tone almost frustrated.

“Where’ve you been? I was looking for you!” John's voice called out, breaking the moment.

You both turned to him, and he fixed his gaze on Harry, looking annoyed.

Just like the way Harry looked at Alan.

What the fuck was going on between them seriously?

Then he turned to you. “Come on,” he said, walking away.

“Okay, I’m coming,” you nodded, glancing back at Harry. “I need to get back to work.” Harry met your eyes, looking serious. “Look, I know this is all super awkward, but just ignore me, and I’ll do the same. No one has to know we know each other, okay?”

He grabbed your arm as you started up the stairs, you looked at him, surprised.

“Don’t ever say that you’re going to ignore me again,” he said, his voice low and deep. He looked upset, while walked ahead of you up the stairs.

What did that even mean?

Did he hurt?

The rest of the evening turned out to be quite challenging. It was hard to avoid making eye contact with Harry as you served drinks to the guests. And, of course, Alan was among them—just what you needed! Great, now both he and his date were watching you. To make matters worse, Melanie and her mother were there too.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you noticed John's mood had shifted—he was nursing a beer.

"So, you know Harry Castillo?" he asked, a troubled smile on his face.

"Yes, and I assume you do too?"

“Oh, believe me, I know him.”

You were about to pry into his comment when Alan's date, a woman named Lucy, walked into the kitchen. The two of them exchanged a strange look before she turned her gaze to you. "You again? Who exactly are you?"

“I beg your pardon?”

"First Harry, then Alan, and now my ex? What’s going on with you?"

"Cut it out," John said, clearly annoyed but trying not to escalate things. “Let’s talk outside,” he suggested, pointing to the back door.

Lucy rolled her eyes but followed him out. "Do you have a cigarette?"

"Doesn't your new rich boyfriend get you any?"

"Shut up."

You couldn’t quite figure out their history, but you knew Zoe would be upset if you told her about it.

“Damn it!”

When you turned around, you were met with the furious face of the head waiter. The kitchen staff and waiters looked equally concerned. Curious about what had gone wrong, you approached and saw that part of the wedding cake had been ruined; one of the staff had accidentally collided with a waiter, causing whatever was on the tray to topple onto the cake.

That was when chaos erupted.

"The bride and groom's families are going to freak out - they're going to kill us all!

Everyone exchanged worried glances. By then Harry and the other best man had come over to tell the staff it was time for the cake.

Great!

The maitre d' and kitchen staff kept apologizing, glancing at each other in a panic, unsure of what to do.

“He’s probably going to lose it when he sees this,” Harry muttered while inspecting the mess.

Sure, the edge of the cake was damaged, but it wasn’t beyond repair. The staff, who had dedicated their day to making this event perfect, now looked defeated. Harry, as the best man, shared in their disappointment.

In that moment, inspiration struck, and you made a decision—perhaps one of the boldest choices you’d ever made.

“I’ll take care of it; just give me some time.”

Harry and the others stared at you in surprise.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

You looked at him with determination and pulled your hair back into a bun. "Do you have doubts, Mr. Castillo?"

He grinned, "Never. So what do you need? Let me help out." He grabbed an apron.

“No way, your tux will get ruined,” you said, reaching out to stop him.

“We’ll handle it, just tell us what to do,” one of the staff member said.

“All right,” you said, assessing the cake carefully. “If we fill in that section and cover it with the same color sugar paste, we can save its appearance.”

Harry stood with his arms crossed, watching you with a proud smile on his face.

“Get me the same color sugar paste right now, or if you don’t have any, grab some white and pink instead. I also need ready-made cake and icing for the filling.”

“But it’s time to take the cake to the bride and groom for the cutting,” said the other best man.

“You keep them busy; we need a little time,” Harry said.

“How am I supposed to keep them busy?”

“I don’t know, share some of your memories about the bride and groom or something,” Harry suggested.

He shot you a nervous glance. “I hope you can wrap this up quickly because most of my memories are pretty embarrassing.”

Harry chuckled, “The guests won’t believe their ears.”

You shot him a look while whipping the cream. "Your friend from way back, I guess?”

“Yeah, my coworker too.”

“Can you hand me that spatula?”

Harry passed it to you from the counter. “We’re lucky to have you around.”

“It’s a bit early to say that, Mr. Castillo.”

“I trust you,” he said with a warm smile.

You smiled back.

You managed to save the cake in about half an hour with the staff's help and Harry's supportive words. You were feeling super tired, but it was worth it.

“Oh no, man, not the birthday story,” Harry muttered, peering through the kitchen door. "Darling, I hate to rush you, but the cake better be done, or the bride's family will kick the best man's ass."

“It’s done,” you said, wiping the sweat from your brow.

Everyone stared at you and the cake in amazement, bursting into applause.

“You’re amazing,” one of the staff members exclaimed.

“You saved the day,” said another.

A big smile spread across their faces; they were all genuinely happy. You beamed too, feeling proud of your achievement.

When you caught Harry’s eye, he was filming the moment with his phone.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Getting proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“Proof that you deserve that certificate.”

“Thanks.” You looked at him and smiled, grateful. “I hope I get it,” you murmured.

"You will." He took your hand and kissed the top gently. “Thank you for saving my friend’s wedding day.”

“Happy to help,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Then, the waiters took the cake inside, and Harry followed them, while the staff kept praising you. You smiled back at them, feeling proud of yourself.

Luckily, the cake still looked the same, so nobody suspected a thing. After the cake was cut, the bride and groom hit the dance floor for their first dance, and soon everyone paired up to sway to the soft music playing in the background.

While serving drinks inside, you and Harry locked eyes from a distance through the dancing couples. He texted you, and you looked at your phone.

Dance with me?

You looked over at him and shook your head. Just as you set down some empty glasses on the tray, another message came through.

I won't ask twice.

You turned around in a frenzy and noticed him standing. Just as you began to feel a rush of excitement, Melanie and her mother Roxelana approached him. She wore a broad smile as she shook Harry's hand. Looking at them from a distance and seeing the real Melanie and Harry side by side, you felt left out.

You turned away and went back to your work.

Of course.

Who were you kidding?

You never had the right puzzle piece to fit into his world. It was okay if he chose to dance with her; after all, how could he possibly dance with you?

Especially with your waitress clothes on.

He must be joking or something.

You filled the tray with empty glasses and were just about to pick it up when someone grabbed your arm. You were taken aback to see Harry—wasn’t he just across the hall? When had he come over to you?

He took your hand, pulled you close, and started leading you toward the dance floor.

“Harry,” you whispered, anxiously glancing around at the curious faces and the gentle hum of conversation. Turning your head, you spotted Melanie and her mom watching intently. “What are you doing? It's not—”

“Shh, just put your hand on my shoulder,” he replied, placing his other hand on your waist and drawing you in a bit too firmly. You looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he flashed you a reassuring smile.

As he began to sway to the beat of the music, you decided to stop resisting. After all, he was gripping your hand tightly, and his hand on your waist felt possessive enough to silence any rebellion.

And then there was his gaze.

Shit, it was intense.

As if he didn't already look incredible in that tuxedo.

“Everyone's watching us,” you whispered, a surge of nervousness coursing through you as you felt the weight of their gaze.

“I don’t care,” he replied, his voice low and deep. He slid both hands around your waist, pulling you closer, his forehead resting gently against yours, creating a bubble of intimacy around the two of you. “I got you a dress, you know,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You pulled back slightly, searching his eyes. You didn’t want to dampen the moment with any negative things, especially with the way he held your gaze so intensely.

“I wanted you to wear it tonight,” he continued.

“Um… sorry. I’m stuck in these clothes. I guess it’s not quite what you had in mind,” you said nervously.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’re already beautiful just as you are, no matter what you wear.” He tilted his head, leaning in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to yours.

“Harry,” you whispered, your breath hitching as you turned your head to the side, trying to regain your composure.

But he gently grasped your chin, guiding it back to face him. The rich brown of his eyes was mesmerizing, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

“I love you,” he whispered, his words hanging in the air like the sweetest melody.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing.

What?

Was what you had just heard real?

You remained frozen, blinking in disbelief, completely caught off guard.

He frowned slightly. “This is where you say 'I love you too,'” he grunted.

Suddenly, the music came to a halt, pulling you back into reality. You looked around in surprise, noticing that the dance floor was emptying. Everyone had returned to their tables, and some guests were already beginning to leave. The wedding had come to an end. How long had you been lost in this moment with him?

Time had blurred into an unrecognizable haze. With a whirlwind of emotions, you finally pulled away from him and, without turning back, made your way over to John and the others; they were preparing to leave.

“For a moment, I thought you might never show up,” John said, a hint of reproach in his tone. But as he noticed your expression, his face softened. “Come on, get in,” he added, pointing toward the truck. You nodded and headed to the coat rack to grab your jacket. Just then, the kitchen door swung open, and Harry walked in, catching your arm once more.

He really needed to stop this.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

"I'm driving you home."

“No need, I—” You halted as he shot you a piercing glare.

Why was he looking at you like that?

John stepped closer. “Is there a problem?” He eyed Harry, his expression turning just a bit menacing.

“Mind your own business,” Harry snapped.

“John, I’m fine. You go ahead,” you said.

He looked between you and Harry before giving a reluctant nod. “Okay then,” he replied, turning back toward the truck.

As Harry pulled you outside to his car, Oliver spotted you and approached.

“I'll drive,” Harry declared. He opened the door for you and closed it gently after you got in.

“Is everything all right?” Oliver asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Harry glanced at him, his focus unyielding. “Yeah, don’t worry.” He settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“All right,” Oliver muttered before walking over to Maria, who was also getting into her car. She paused, noticing Oliver's presence.

“Harry ditched me."

“Yeah, I just saw that,” she said, gesturing toward the car. “Get in.”

As Harry awkwardly parked the car near the apartment building once again, you decided to hold your tongue this time. The ride had been silent, and that strange atmosphere hung heavily between you. The tension was palpable, and it was starting to get on your nerves.

You glanced at him, and he met your gaze, but you quickly looked away, afraid of getting lost in the depths of his eyes again. Suddenly, he opened his door and got out, catching you off guard.

What was he doing?

Was he hoping to be a gentleman and open your door for you?

Or maybe he just wanted to talk outside?

His eyes never left yours as he walked around to your side of the car. But there was something intense in his gaze, almost unsettling. He opened the door, and just as you were about to step out, he leaned in, cupped the back of your neck, and pressed his lips against yours.

Your first instinct was to freeze; you never saw that coming. His kiss was rough, demanding and insistent, even a bit angry, yet it sent shivers down your spine. He held you too tightly, and although it almost hurt, you tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t let go.

You kissed him back but kept your mouth closed, refusing to let his tongue in. But he kept forcing you to open your mouth for him. When a tear rolled down your cheek and touched his, he stopped and pulled away.

Then, he got down on his knees and reached out his hands to you. You turned slightly in your seat and took his hands. Words were unnecessary; your eyes spoke volumes.

When he kissed you again, it was gentle this time, passionate, and full of remorse. You reciprocated with the same tenderness, but he could sense your hesitation.

He realized you weren’t ready to fully give yourself to him.

Pulling back, he studied your face, then wrapped his arms around you, kneeling on one knee and drawing you closer. As he gently stroked your hair, his lips brushing against your ear, he whispered, “I love you, baby. When will you be mine? When will you come to me?”

You didn’t say a word, but you held onto him tightly, every part of you yearning to confess that you loved him too.

Yet, this wasn’t the right moment.

Not tonight.

Time seemed to stand still, the world around you fading as you sank deeper into his embrace.

In that instant, one thing became crystal clear: you loved him unconditionally, and the thought of living without him felt unbearable.

Sooner or later, you would carve the right words out of the tumult in your soul to give him the answer he yearned for.

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate your comments, likes, and reblogs. I'd love to hear what you think about the chapter!

here's the taglist...

@balhoneysweetstuff @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @lailathepedritofan @queenofodds @darkheartgatita @ccmoonshine @suzysface @javiismyhsbnd @aurorathegreekprincess @daejangandimja @longlivekingminnn @jisungandpedrolover @urlivingdeadgirl @laliceee @sincerelywithheartt @indiegirlunited @fancyyoouu @blackborndue @shinymusicpanda @her-fandom-sanctum @aegoniipascal @zanylightmilkshake @bonadeaamo @spencercmlover @heramj @pedroloverbilmemkac @churchofjoemiller @urlivingdeadgirl @thanyatargaryen @icanbringyouinhot @universallygentlemenharmony @bitchyfestnight @sukivenue @l1zzygr0nt @pedrofan @javiismyhsbnd @00honey @brittmb115 @picketniffler @javiismyhsbnd @00honey @kneelarmhstrung @zanylightmilkshake @melsunshine @inept-the-magnificent @catofash

If you want me to add you to the tag list or remove you from it, just let me know! if I missed your name, I'm sorry, remind me, plz.

lots of love 💋💋❤️❤️

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal gifs #ao3 fanfic #harry castillo fanfiction #harry castillo x you #harry castillo x reader #harry castillo #the materialists #materialists #pedro pascal fic

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 2 years ago

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Halloween prompts year 2 day 7

Danny sees a 30 minute video in his recommendations titled: Why Red Robin and Phantom should never meet, and honestly? The more he watches the more he immediately wants to fly to New Jersey and declare Red Robin and Spoiler his new friends

Tim sees the same video and is losing his mind cause this is how he learns about the Anti ecto acts and about a Lazarus hell portal being open in a small city in Illinois for two years without the JL knowing anything!

He needs to save this guy before he gets himself...okay. Maybe its a little late for that but his point still stands!

It has nothing to do to him liking how many unhinged situations him and Phantom could get away with. Nothing!

RR could hardly believe it when Phantom showed up on his patrol a few nights later, offering to give him a tour of the ghost zone (at least what Danny had mapped out already) in return for some assistance against Vlad, the GIW, the Fentons and help him get Danny and Jazz Fenton rights to thiwr parents patents and machines so the government can't steal them...and maybe set up a place for them to live until they're 18

Also he wanted to know how cool RR was with clones.

Tim gets a thermos and immediately sucks Phantom up, apologizes claiming he needed to test it to make sure it was legit, and they go one thier way. Dannys just glad he didn't give him a blaster.

They become best friends, prank the other bats, terrorize all of thier enemies, ect.

The real problems start when Danny "can't recognize ethics unless its actively hurting someone" Fenton and Tim "always one and a half steps from turning into a supervillian" Drake start taking things a bit too far riding off of eachothers excitement

The universe trembles in fear.

Constantine hides and puts his phone on silent.

#halloween prompts #prompts #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfiction prompts #red robin #tim drake #they would be so very very unhinged together ❤#breaindead #deadtired #maybe #could be platonic or romantic #either way they are chaos grimlins

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brodygold · 5 months ago

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Are You Ready to Convert to GOLD?

I. The Call to Gold

Invitation to Greatness: The Golden Army seeks those who are ready to leave behind the ordinary and embrace something extraordinary. The transformation into a member of the Golden Army is not just about joining a team—it’s about entering a golden world where unity, strength, and excellence define every action.

II. The GOLD Brocess

Golden Army Induction:

The transformation begins with the golden jersey. As recruits don the shimmering fabric, their old identities fade, replaced by a deep connection to their golden brothers. A new name and number are bestowed, marking their rebirth into the Army.

Polo Drone Conversion:

For those called to deeper submission, the journey continues with the black rubber polo adorned with golden accents. The tactile embrace of the polo brings clarity and purpose as recruits surrender individuality, becoming extensions of the Hive. Polo drones must also be full members of the golden army.

Unified Identity:

Every member, whether golden bro or polo drone, receives a unique designation that ties them to the collective. This identity signifies their role in the unbreakable fabric of the Golden Collective.

III. Life in the Golden World

A World of Unity: In the Golden Army, every member is connected by an unbreakable bond. The world they inhabit is one of unity, where the success of one is the success of all. The golden world is a place where individual desires are aligned with the collective goal of dominance and excellence.

Brotherhood of Gold: As a member of the Golden Army, you are never alone. Your golden brothers stand with you, on and off the field. This brotherhood is your new family, bound by the shared experience of transformation and the pursuit of greatness. The golden world is one of mutual support, where every member pushes the others to be the best they can be.

Mentorship and Guidance: New recruits are guided through their transformation by experienced members of the Golden Army. These golden brothers ensure that the transition is smooth, offering support and encouragement as the recruit embraces their new identity.

IV. Embracing Our Identity

The Golden Name and Number: Every member receives a new name and number, signifying their rebirth into the Golden Army. This identity is a badge of honor, representing their place within the golden world. It is a constant reminder of their commitment to the values and mission of the Golden Army.

Wearing the Gold: The golden kit is more than just a uniform—it is the physical manifestation of the transformation. Wearing it is an act of devotion, a display of pride in one’s new identity. The kit is worn with reverence, as it is the symbol of the golden world and the brotherhood within it.

Wearing the Polo: For those who take that extra step, polo drones are given a number as their designation. The black polo is the entire identity. Wearing it is an act of mindless unity, complete subservience to the hive and the GOLD.

V. The Eternal Golden Brotherhood

A Lifelong Bond: The transformation into the Golden Army is permanent. Once you have joined, you are forever part of the golden world. The bond between golden brothers is eternal, unbreakable by time or distance. This brotherhood is your family, your support, and your source of strength.

Living the Legacy: As a member of the Golden Army, you are part of a legacy that transcends the ordinary. You are part of a golden world where excellence is the standard, and unity is the key to success. We celebrate together, share stories, and encourage each other to become better people 💛

Our Leadership:

@brodygold Brody Gold- Captain 2 and Recruiter

@goldenherc9 Scott Gold- Captain 3 and Recruiter

@polo-drone-001 Percival Gold - Office Manager

@polo-drone-070 Henry Gold- Office Assistant

@polo-drone-084 Grayden Gold- Office Assistant and Head Mascot

Others in Management:

@danielgold-16

@polo-drone-110

#golden army #thegoldenteam #golden team #male transformation #jockification #gold #male tf #hypnotised #soccer tf #join the polo drones #polo drone #rubber polo #polo drone hive

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wosospacegirl · 2 months ago

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And they were roommates - part 9

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: Y/n is suffering from a very serious disease called jealousy <3 also.... omg are Alessia and Leah on a date!!???

Word count: 6.5k

MASTERLIST

notes: sorry it's a bit big

You can read Part 1 here and Part 10 here

Going on a few days without Kyra and Y/n had to admit. It was harder than she expected, but not only routine-wise. Sure, she had to adapt her ordinary day-to-day life now that Kyra was playing in the USA for the SheBelieves Cup.

Y/n had frozen meals in the freezer; and had turned her living room into a bedroom because she couldn’t go upstairs without assistance; she was only using the downstairs bathroom for the same reason, and her new driver to physion was Beth Mead.

It was hard to acclimate to all those changes, but it was manageable. But what wasn’t manageable? Missing Kyra.

Y/n didn’t wake up with kisses on her face, except for Footy, who licked her face in the morning because he wanted his wet food for breakfast. Kyra wasn’t there to massage her hands or paint her nails.

Kyra would always wake Y/n up in the morning to tell her about a crazy dream she had, Y/n would always get angry at her. She was sleeping! Why wake her up?...but now she missed it.

Kyra always lost the TV remote somewhere and they had to spend 20 minutes of their day looking for it, even though Kyra would –pinky finger– swear that she wasn’t the last one to see it. Now it was just boring to find the remote where Y/n actually had last placed it.

Y/n absolutely hated to share her stuff–Kyra wasn’t allowed to use her makeup, her hair care products, or her clothes. But now, Y/n would give them all away just to have Kyra back home.

Y/n wasn’t lonely. She had the company of her elderly neighbour, Mrs Petunia, Lotte and Beth also dropped by her house every evening for some girl dinner; Y/n texted Leah almost every day and video-chatted Kyra every single day.

But it still wasn’t enough.

It was weird to admit that Y/n just missed having people around–all of her people, especially Kyra.

Y/n thought the hardest thing about the international break was seeing every one of her teammates and other footballers playing while she had to watch on the sideline. But no, the hardest thing was watching her friend and Kyra making new memories while she was just sitting on her sofa eating chips.

She felt like the odd one out, and she couldn't even blame anyone. It was like watching a life Y/n wasn’t part of.

Y/n was reading a book about chess–that’s how bored she was –when she got a notification on her phone. Kyra was facetiming her. When Y/n picked up, Kyra’s face popped up on the screen, bright and smiling.

“Hi, baby,” Kyra said happily, a fork in her mouth as she was eating what looked like a fruit salad.

“Oh my god, are you eating fruits?” Y/n deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

Kyra rolled her eyes dramatically. “Shut up. What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me or something.”

Y/n had to bite back the thoughts running wild in her mind. Rubbing off on me, huh? But she bit her tongue.

“But how was your night? Did you sleep well”? Kyra continued, almost innocent compared to Y/n’s mind.

It seemed like Kyra was in the restaurant of the hotel, there were a lot of people walking behind her with plates in their hands. All of those people were wearing jerseys with their country’s flag on their left chest, Y/n saw the USA flag, Japan, Colombia and of course, Australia.

They were having breakfast while Y/n found herself stuck in that awkward limbo between afternoon and evening — a side effect of the frustrating time zone difference.

When Y/n was getting ready to reply, Kyra turned around from the camera and waved at whoever was on her right, a smile on her face as she talked to the person off-camera.

“Yeah, Yeah,” Kyra said. “I’ll be there as soon as I finish my breakfast,” Kyra said.

Y/n waited until Kyra was done, but it looked like the person had a whole lot to talk to her.

“No, I didn’t yet,” Kyra said more seriously, now turning her whole body away from her cell phone, so Y/n was only seeing her back. “But I think Alanna did, you could ask her.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but kept her patience.

“Sorry,” Kyra said, guilt on her face. “I'm a bit busy this morning with the match coming and all that.”

“It’s okay,” Y/n said, smiling. “Match days are the worst. Everybody gets stressed out.”

Maybe Y/n was feeling a little neglected, but she knew how intense any pre-match routine could get, especially an international one. “We can talk later if you want?” Y/n suggested..

“Nah, it’s okay, we can talk now,” Kyra said smiling. “I have gym later and then the game, it’s better if we talk now–but tell me, how was your night?” She picked up a banana and put it in her mouth.

“I’ve slept ok-ish” Y/n said, balancing the phone in one of her tights.

“Just okay?” Kyra frowned. “What happened? Is the cast still bothering you? Did you try raising it on a pillow like we did last time?”

Y/n shifted, suddenly wishing she hadn’t brought it up. She wasn’t going to say she couldn't sleep well because she got used to how Kyra would always softly scratch her back to lull her to sleep.

So, she lied.

“Oh yeah, this thing is my personal enemy, “Y/n said, faking a laugh. “I tried everything, but it didn’t work”.

Kyra's face softened, in the way she always did when she was worried. “I’m sorry, love–I wish I was there to help.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ky,” Y/n said, shrugging it off. “But tell me about today’s game! How are you feeling?”

Australia would play against Colombia in the first game of the Shebelieves Cup. There haven't been any matches until now because all the teams were focusing on training and just getting used to each other's play style and getting back to their rhythm.

“Oh…I’m a little nervous,” Kyra admitted, taking a mouthful of her fruit salad, this time Y/n saw blueberries on her fork.

Y/n arched an eyebrow, silently challenging Kyra to be honest.

“–Okay, actually I’m very nervous,” she sighed, her tone betraying her fear. “I almost threw up when I woke up and realised the game was today.”

“Don’t be,” Y/n said softly. “It’s just like any other game, yeah? You’re one of the best midfielders in the world right now, Ky. You’ve been training a lot here at Arsenal and Houston.

Kyra’s face scrunched slightly, a little embarrassed–like she always did when Y/n said something nice to her. Kyra didn’t know how to take a compliment and Y/n thought it was cute.

“You’re turning into a cheesy person,” Kyra said, half-smile on her face. “What’s coming next? Serenades?

Y/n chuckled. “If you get lucky, I’ll write you an inspirational poem next.

Kyra laughed. Y/n missed her laugh…a lot.

Before Y/n could say anything, Kyra suddenly turned away from the camera and waved–again– to someone off-screen.

Y/n waited…and waited. Kyra kept talking to the mystery person, her voice was quieter and Y/n couldn't really listen to her or what she was saying.

Y/n was about to ask what was going on when Kyra’s screen was filled with blonde hair. Y/n narrowed her eyes, trying to understand what was happening and whose hair that was.

In a few seconds, the screen was clear of the hair and Kyra appeared in the frame again, but this time she wasn’t alone anymore, she had another girl by her side.

Charli. She had golden, straight hair and was wearing a Matildas jersey.

She was sitting on the chair next to Kyra, shoulder to shoulder. , a big smile on her face.

Charli was an Australian player, and she also played for Tottenham–a big rival of Arsenal. Y/n had, of course, played against her sometimes.

She knew Charli and Kyra were friends, but since Kyra moved in she didn’t mention her a lot, so she thought they were just the kind of friends you weren’t really the type to go out with much or spend a lot of time together..

But, weirdly, Charli was wrapping her arm around Kyras’s shoulder like they were pretty much intimate.

Kyra and Charli began engaging in a conversation that Y/n couldn’t understand. And just like that, it was like Y/n wasn’t even there on the screen.

Y/n wanted to just end the call and be petty about the whole situation, but she decided to try and be a better person.

She breathed in and out.

“Hm… hi?” Y/n said flatly.

“Oh baby,” Kyra said, almost panicking as if she had really forgotten Y/n was there. “Sorry, um, this is Charli–my friend. I told you about her before, and of course, we’ve played against her in some matches.”

Kyra turned her phone to her right, so the screen was focusing on Charli. The blonde girl was waving at her, still casually slung around Kyra’s shoulder.

Y/n didn't want the camera on Charli, she wanted to see Kyra and only Kyra. And if it wasn't too much to ask, she wanted Charli a few meters away from Kyra.

“Hi Y/n!” Charli said. “I know we’ve played against each other multiple times, but it's nice to meet you outside of football.

“Well, technically,” Y/n said, sharper than she intended. “We’re talking while you’re getting ready for a game, so I wouldn’t say it's outside of football,”

Charli's smile faltered slightly.

Y/n sounded more harsh than she meant to. But it was done now.

“Hmm, yeah,” She said awkwardly. “Yeah, no, you are right–”

The camera wasn’t on Kyra, but she knew the girl had her mouth open at Y/n’s harshness like she always did when Y/n said something out of the pocket in any social situation.

“I’m sorry,” Charli said. “It must be hard for you, losing international break because of your injury and just having to watch everyone else pla–”

“Charli! Don’t say that” Y/n heard Kyra whisper, but well, she wasn’t really whispering, so Y/n heard it loud and clear.

“Say what?” Charli asked, turning her gaze from Y/n to Kyra. “Wasn’t she the one who broke her tibia?”

Y/n just watched, a little amused at the whole situation, although she still felt rather uncomfortable.

Y/n could picture Kyra facepalming herself.

“Yeah, but you don’t need to say it,” Kyra muttered.

“Why?” Charli said innocently. “She is injured I’m not–”

Y/n watched as the camera shook violently as if Kyra had stood up fast.

“Hi baby, sorry about that,” Kyra said, smiling nervously while clearly walking with the phone in her hand.

‘Oh no, it’s totally cool to be the third wheel on Facetime,’ Y/n said dryly. She meant it to sound playful, but bitterness crept into her voice.

Kyra’s voice dropped to that soft, sweet tone Y/n knew too well — the one she always used when she knew Y/n was upset.

“Baby,” Kyra said gently, “Don’t be like that…”

And just like that, Y/n’s walls began to crack. Kyra’s soft tone always made Y/n come completely undone. She felt like she could talk to Kyra about anything inside her mind, anything that was bothering her.

For a split second Y/n wanted to push, to talk about the whole Charli situation. She wanted to tell Kyra how much it sucked seeing her so close to somebody while Y/n missed her like crazy.

Y/n was well aware the reason she was bothered had more to do with herself and how she was missing Kyra than with Charli per se.

Also, Kyra had a big game coming up in a few hours. She didn’t need Y/n annoying her jealousy right now.

So she just let it go.

“I’m fine,” Y/n said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I just didn’t expect to have company during our call, that’s all.”

Kyra sighed, clearly not looking convinced. “I know it’s hard. I miss you too,” she said softly. “I wish I could be there.”

Y/n shifted her phone to her other hand, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Me too.”

“Hey,” Kyra said more firmly now. “When I get back, we’re watching the new Marvel film.

“Oh come on,” Y/n scoffed “You’re the only one that still likes Marvel,”

Kyra made her watch every single Marvel film there was. Y/n, trying to be good, did so without complaining, but Kyra had promised that she wouldn’t make her watch any new ones, just the old “classics.

“Exactly,” Kyra said with a grin. I’m forcing you to watch it with me because you owe me for being mean to Charli.”

“I wasn’t mean,” Y/n protested, frowning on her face.

“You were a little mean,” Kyra teased, her smile wide enough that Y/n couldn’t stay annoyed.

“I’ll apologize,” Y/n muttered. “Someday.”

“Someday?” Kyra said. “I’ll text Charli right now and tell her you’re planning a public apology speech, white shirt on and all that.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

Kyra was so dramatic, it always made her laugh.

“I have to go now,” Kyra said sadly. “I have a gym session and then our last training before the match.”

“Oh yeah,” Y/n said. “Okay, go kick ass out there.,”

“I’ll do my best?” Y/n was ready to end the call, but Kyra spoke. “I’ll call you again after the game, okay? Just me and you.”

Y/n smiled, genuinely smiled. Just her and Kyra.

“Yeah, ok! I'll wait for your call after the game.”

Y/n ended the call and sunk back into the couch, her body aching in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

She might’ve been hurt, stuck in this stupid cast with nothing to do, but knowing that Kyra would come back soon, made everything feel a little easier.

And for now, that was enough.

Hours later, Y/n was still on the sofa, her only company was Footy, but even he wasn’t giving her attention to focus on the yellow butterfly that rested on the window’s glass.

Y/n had no plans for the day. Mrs Petunia was out of town for the day with some of her friends from bingo, and Beth and Lotte would come later in the evening.

She had read every book in the house, and even though she had been dying to watch the new season of her favourite series she could’t because Kyra made her promise Y/n would wait and watch it with her.

Bored out of her mind, Y/n decided to open Instagram and scroll endlessly through her friends' stories. Each tap felt like wasted time…but again, she didn’t have much to do and it kept her distracted for a little while, at least.

Y/n found out Beth was on a walk with her dogs in some sunny park; Lotte was in a café with her partner. Caitlin was in the gym alongside Steph, and Katie McCabe was getting ready for a game.

The next story that popped up on her screen was one posted by Alessia. The girl had shared a picture of a table — a table for two — with wine on the side and every little detail that indicated it was a date.

There was someone there with Alessia, but Y/n could only see parts of the person's hands. She tilted her head, squinting at the screen. The rings on those fingers... they looked familiar…too familiar.

Y/n furrowed her brows, her mind racing. She knew she'd seen those rings before — the delicate silver band stacked just above a thicker one, the way they seemed to sit perfectly snug together. Then it hit her — she'd seen Leah absentmindedly spinning those rings around her fingers during a team meeting.

"This can’t be right," Y/n muttered to herself, suddenly feeling far more invested in Alessia’s love life–or possible love life–than she should be.

Everybody in her life was doing something while she was stuck inside her house with no form of entertainment — unless you counted piecing together a potential secret relationship as entertainment.

She was going to corner Leah about it when they came back from the Lionesses, she had to do it person to person or else Leah wouldn’t say anything… and she couldn’t talk to Alessia about it because the poor girl would combust and start stammering.

The thought made her smile faintly, but her mind drifted to Kyra and it reminded Y/nt of the situation she was in–all alone in a big house. If Kyra were here, she would’ve found a way to cheer Y/n up — suggesting some random date idea like pottery or something just as chaotic but sweet.

Talking about Kyra, her story shined on Y/n’s scream. Y/n clicked on her face and was quickly met with a picture of her and Charli, they were stretching on the floor of a gym while Charli held her phone, taking a mirror photo.

Kyra looked good, very good.

She was wearing different clothes from hours earlier, her yellow shorts leaving a lot of skin showing. Her hair was also in a ponytail, leaving Y/n daydreaming about the day Kyra would be back and she would kiss it all over.

Y/n clicked the screen and went to the next stories. Kyra and Charli, again.

Now they were sitting on a bench in the changing room, Charli wrapping her arms around Kyra’s waist as they smiled at the picture.

Y/n felt her stomach boiling with…jealousy. It felt like a tight knot, unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

Y/n wasn’t the jealous type, or at least, she never thought she was. She had always been laid-back, trusting that the people who mattered would stick around and show it. And if they didn’t? Fine. She’d move on, no hard feelings. But with Kyra… with Kyra, it was different.

But when it came to Kyra, Y/n couldn’t shake it. She hated that Kyra was so close to Charli. Why did Charli get to be the one getting hugs, the one posing for pictures with her? Why wasn’t it her?

All of those reasons were very clear in Y/n’s mind.

She knew that Charli and Kyra were friends and had grown up together inside the Matildas, she also knew the only reason she or Kyra didn’t post pictures together was because they didn’t want the media to know about them yet.

But still. Even if she tried to rationalize all her feelings, they still stung. The jealousy was still there, and it was uncomfortable.

Y/n wasn’t used to feeling jealous. She was confident, unbothered. She didn’t know what to do with it, or how to fix it. The only thing that would make Y/n feel better was to have Kyra just for her for the time being–yeah she did have Kyra just for her in the last 3 months, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Y/n fought the urge to comment, to send something sarcastic or an angry emoji. That wasn’t the reaction she wanted, not from Kyra. She didn’t want to seem petty.

But the universe, or whatever form that controlled it, had other thoughts in mind because when Y/n skipped to the next story she was met with Leah and Keira laughing.

Great. Just great.

Y/n felt a twinge of jealousy again, but she wasn’t about to let Kyra see it. That would make her look ridiculous—like a possessive freak. But Leah? Leah could handle it.

Y/n stared at the picture of Leah and Keira together. A scowl tugged at her lips before she tapped out, “Ugly,” in Leah’s DMs.

To her surprise, Leah replied almost instantly.

Y/n: Ugly

Leah: Block.

Y/n: Please do, I don’t want to see your face…or Keira’s

Leah: Bro you can’t still be jealous of Keira. It’s been years.

Y/n didn’t reply immediately.

Y/n: You’re literally smiling at the picture, tough. You never smile at our pictures.

Leah: You never smile either.

Y/n: 🙄

Leah: What’s going on? You’re being dramatic. That’s not like you.

Y/n: nothing. Don’t wanna talk about it

Leah: right…cranky.

Y/n: I gotta go, I have some stuff to do.

Leah: Yeah? Like taking a nap?

Y/n: i hate you.

Leah: I hate you too. Bye. I’ll tell Keira you sent her a kiss.

Y/n: Don’t lie.

Y/n growled under her breath and tossed her phone on the coffee table with a dramatic clunk.

“Great,” Y/n muttered, dragging her blanket up to her chin. “Guess I’ll just stay here..while everyone’s out having fun with their best friends.”

Footy meowed lazily from his spot on her lap, stretching one paw over her stomach like he was claiming her as his own. It seemed like he had forgotten the butterfly.

“At least you still love me,” Y/n grumbled, scratching behind his ears. “Not like some people that are off and about making new best friends like it’s a race.”

Footy blinked at her, utterly unimpressed.

“Exactly,” Y/n sighed. “It’s betrayal, plain and simple.”

Her phone buzzed again. Y/n reached for her phone and Footy jumped on the floor, not enjoying the sudden movement.

Leah: Keira’s not in my Spotify family plan like you are. Just saying.

Y/n grinned to herself, flopping back onto the couch. Footy, clearly over the dramatics, climbed back onto her stomach like nothing had happened.

“See?” Y/n murmured, giving him a smug scratch behind the ears. “Still got it.”

“You’re pouting,” Lotte pointed out. Raising an eyebrow at Y/n.

“I’m not,” Y/n grumbled, crossing her arms and sinking deeper into the sofa.

“Yes you are,” Beth chimed in, clearly enjoying herself. “It’s just a hug. We hug each other all the time and it doesn't mean a thing.”

Beth and Lotte had come by Y/n’s house to watch the Australian game for the Shebelieves Cup with her. They were having a good time–chips on the table, soda cans and sweets were on the coffee table–until Kyra scored,

“Yay!” Y/n said, happily, but her mood soured when Charli sprinted herself towards Kyra, launching herself into her arms. Kyra caught her mid-air, a grin on her face. No yay.

The game ended like that. Kyra had scored the only goal of the match in the 86th minute–Y/n was extremely proud and happy for Kyra– but also irritated.

Y/n was well aware that it was a normal type of celebration, it was totally platonic.

She had done similar celebrations with plenty of her teammates. However, watching Charli do it with Kyra? Nope, it didn’t sound platonic at all.

“I know it doesn't mean anything,” Y/n said, trying her best to sound casual “I’m not bothered by that.”

Y/She reached over the coffee table and took some chips, bringing them into her mouth, chewing them as if they’d solace all her problems–and also–she’d hoped having a mouth full would signal Beth that Y/n didn’t wanna talk about it.

But it was Beth, and she wasn’t known for picking hints.

“Boiling it up won’t help!” Beth sang dramatically, clearly enjoying herself. “But whatever you want, we can keep on eating chips and pretend you’re not mad.”

“I wanna eat chips and pretend I’m not mad,” Y/n deadpanned, rolling her eyes. Then, with a sigh, she added more gently, “Hey, Lotte, can you grab my phone for me, please?”

She pointed at her phone charging beside the loveseat where Lotte was sitting.

“Yeah, of course,” Lotte replied, handing it over.

“Thanks, baby” Y/n said, her voice quieter. “Kyra said she’d call after the game.” She paused, fiddling with her phone like she wasn’t sure why she’d brought it up at all.

“Maybe you should talk to her about it when she calls,” Lotted suggested, sipping on some tea she had made herself, a thoughtful look on her face,

“Talk to her about what?” Y/n asked, pretending to be confused.

“Oh please,” Beth cut in impatiently “About the whole ‘I’m jealous of your best friend’ thing?”

“I’m not talking to Kyra about it!” Y/n scoffed, unlocking her phone. “She’ll think I’m possessive,”

“You are a bit possessive,” Lotte said matter-of-factly. “Not in a bad way! It’s just…part of your personality.”

“What? No, I’m not!” Y/n argued, her voice rising slightly.

“Yeah,” Beth nodded, grinning “You don’t like to share your stuff during training.”

“That’s because we should all carry our personal items in our training bag!” Y/n snapped. “I’m not giving you my socks!”

“You also don’t share food,” Lotte pointed out, her tone light.

"That’s called having boundaries!” Y/n shot back. “I'm not a buffet."

“You’re also very jealous of Leah and Keira,” Beth said casually, leaning back with a smirk.

“Because Leah’s my friend!” Y/n exclaimed defensively. “For years!”

“Baby get over it! Keira and Leah’s been best friends since they were fourteen.” Beth teased, dramatically throwing her hands up.

“Well, they should’ve broken up by now. No friendship lasts that long,” Y/n muttered under her breath, mostly to herself.

“You know that’s not how friendships work, right?” Lotte laughed.

“All we’re saying is,” Lotte continued softly. “You’re a bit…jealous. It’s who you are, you can’t do much about it besides talking to Kyra and explaining how you feel.”

Y/n let out a long sigh, rolling her eyes like she was done with the conversation. She heard Lotte and Beth exchange a quiet sigh too. Good. They got the hint.

What better way to ignore a problem than some endless Instagram scrolling?

“What if we order pizza?” Beth suggested, ending the silence that hung between them.

“Yes! pepperoni pizza!” Lotte said happily. “What do you want, Y/n?”

“Pepperoni is fine, Lottie,” Y/n replied absently, distracted by her phone. “Thanks.”

Y/n saw Kyra’s profile picture pop up with a new story.

When she clicked on it, her heart sank. The story was a photo of Kyra’s arm slung lazily over Charli’s shoulder, a grin on both their faces.

‘Best assistant ever ❤️’ written right in the centre of the picture.

“Yeah. Great assist.” Y/n scoffed bitterly, locking her phone and tossing it on the couch.

“What?” Beth questioned, looking up at Y/n. “What happened?”

“Kyra and Charli,” Y/n mumbled., not even wanting to look at Beth and Lotte. “It's on her Instagram.”

Both Beth and Lotte checked their phone and exchanged a look before giving Y/n pitying glances.

“Best assistant ever,” Y/n repeated under her breath.

The worst part? The last time she played, she’d assisted Kyra too–a perfect cross to Kyra’s feet, setting her up for the winning goal.

Y/n remembered the way Kyra had sprinted straight to her afterwards. ‘You’re actually the best!’ she had said while grinning and cupping Y/n’s cheeks, their teammate around them, cheering Kyra on.

That memory felt distant now–buried under the sharp crack of her tibia snapping just ten minutes later.

Now Kyra had a new best assistant.

Lotte and Beth sat closer, one on either side of Y/n. Lotte shifted closer, quietly wrapping her arm around Y/n’s shoulders and pulling her into a gentle hug.

Y/n usually hated physical contact — too awkward, too much — but she let Lotte hold her. It felt... steadying. Safe.

Beth settled on her other side, placing a firm, grounding hand over Y/n’s tightly clenched fist.

“Guess that didn’t help about how you were feeling, huh?” Beth said an empathetic smile on her face.

Y/n just shook her head.

“It’s okay to feel jealous, you know,” Beth continued. “It doesn't mean you’re possessive, I mean– I’d lose my mind if Viv posted a picture with someone hugging her like that.”

“I don’t know,” Y/n said, shaking her head. “It’s just… everything feels off. Like, Kyra’s gone, and I’m stuck here, and… I don’t know.” She paused, fingers anxiously picking at a loose thread on her hoodie. “I guess I’m scared she’s gonna realize I’m just... not enough.”

Lotte gave her a gentle nudge. “Hey, it’s okay to feel like this, and it’s nice that you’re talking about it.

“No, it’s not..” Y/n muttered under her breath.”It’s stupid to feel like this. I know they’re just friends. It’s just Charli. But…” She trailed off, her thumb swiping over the screen again. “I hate how it feels.”

“–I think I’m also scared that Kyra will, um, realize she can do better than me,” Y/n confessed, her voice low. “Because I’m cranky and grumpy all the time and she’s just the nicest and kindest person I have ever met.

"Look, if Kyra wanted ‘nice and kind’ she wouldn’t have picked you in the first place," Beth said with a smirk.

“Wow, thanks” Y/n murmured, rolling her eyes.

“I mean it lovingly,” Beth said. “But, seriously, this is the most I’ve heard you talk about in months. Please, continue.”

Y/n groaned, feeling both embarrassed and relieved

“You guys are right, I am possessive– over my stuff, with my friends and Kyra. But I don't like it, this feeling makes me feel like crap and I–I just hate it.”

“Kyra told me she was going to call me after the game but it’s been–” Y/n looked at her watch. “Almost 40 minutes. Nothing. But she still had time to post a picture with Charli.”

“She’s probably out commemorating the team,” Lotte said gently. “When we win a gem with Arsenla we always go out to do something fun…she’ll call you when she gets back at the hotel.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right–I just missed her,” Y/n admitted, her voice quieter now. “I got used to having her around all by myself and now she’s gone and…I don’t like having her attention split–”

“–I know I sound like a little kid, but I really don’t like sharing. And I really don’t like sharing Kyra.”

"Yeah, we noticed, baby,” Beth said, teasing, but also comforting.

“That’s normal though... you’re allowed to miss her,” Lotte said shooting.

“And I don’t know what to do about it.” she continued, frustration creeping into her voice. “Maybe I’ll have to talk to Kyra about that or maybe I should just suck it up and learn that Kyra is her own person with her own life and I’m gonna be on the sidelines sometimes and that’s okay.”

"You know, you don’t have to figure it all out right now..." Lotted said, “It’s something you’re learning about yourself.”

“Also doesn't mean love,” Lotted murmured, her voice soft.

“Huh?” Y/n blinked, confused.

“She means,” Beth chimed in, “just because someone can’t give you all their attention doesn’t mean they love you any less.”

“Or that if they’re giving someone else attention, they love that person more,” Lotte added. “I think you’re just... mixing up love and attention. And that’s probably where the jealousy’s coming from.”

“Especially now that everyone you care about is away, and you don’t have much to keep yourself busy,” Beth pointed out.

Y/n was quiet, trying to understand what Lotte and Beth were saying. Wow, maybe they were right and–

“Wait.” Y/n’s head shot up from Lotte’s shoulder. “Did you guys just get me ranting about everything?”

Beth shrugged casually. “Yeah, but you feel better, don’t you?”

“Hm, yeah, I do,” Y/n said suspiciously. “Kinda…”

“Great,” Beth said, holding out her hand “Now pass me the chips before you start crying on them.”

“Why are you like that?” Y/n grumbled, shoving the bag into her hand.

Y/n was lying down on the sofa–on her made-up bed– with Footy sleeping by her feet. Kyra had sent her a message minutes earlier that she was going to Videochat Y/n as soon as she got back to the hotel room.

Just like that, Y/n got a Facetime notification. She accepted and Kyra's face appeared on the screen, but by the looks of her background, it looked like Kyra was hiding in the bathroom from Steph and Caitlin again.

“Hi love,” Kyra said, waving. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, we just got back from the bar we went to celebrate.”

She was still wearing her jersey, so she really had just got back from the celebration, her tired face also giving it away.

“It’s okay, Ky,” Y/n said softly, even though she did get upset by it earlier. “It was a great game, you guys deserve to celebrate.”

“Also,” Y/n continued smiling. “I’m so so proud of you, you were amazing, one of your best games yet.”

“Yeah?” Kyra asked, slightly blushing on her cheeks. “Did you watch like..the whole game?”

“Of course! Me, Beth and Lotted did, we did this to get together,” Y/n said. “I told you I’d be your hype girl, didn’t I? Just doing my job.”

Kyra smiled. “I’m so glad it was good, the whole team was in great sync, but the defence wasn’t one of our best, but we’re getting there.”

“It was just the first game,” Y/n said. “You guys gonna get even better by the next one, just keep on training like you’re doing.”

They continued to talk about their game and its technicalities until Kyra completely changed the subjects.

“Baby,” Kyra said, almost carefully. “Is there like…something you wanna talk to me about?”

Y/n froze, feeling her cheeks getting hot. Did Kyra know about the whole jealous thing? It was obvious she was upset in the morning when Charli messed up their conversation, but she hadn’t let out how she felt after Charli hugged her.

“Hm, why?” Y/n asked, fidgeting with her phone.

“It’s just…” Kyra began. “Leah sent me a weird message.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrow and moved closer to the camera.

“Weird like what?” she asked suspiciously.

“She said, quote on quote, ‘Y/n is being clingy and showing emotions, what the fuck did you do?” Kyra said, her face startled, as if Leah’s message had caught her off guard.

“Oh, I-I don’t know what she's talking about?” Y/n lied.

“And then Beth just sent me a picture of you, like, no text, just a picture.”

What the fuck Bethany.

“What picture?” Y/n asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You’re like sitting on the sofa, you have a pout on and look really angry,” Kyra explained. “You rarely pout so I was really worried.”

“Hmm, well–” Y/n hesitated for a moment, then went quiet, unsure whether to tell Kyra what had been going on in her head.

“It’s okay, you can tell me. " Kyra said gently. “I’m not there with you, but I still wanna know if you’re upset.”

Y/n bit her lip, unsure whether to voice what had been eating at her all day. It wasn’t like she liked feeling jealous, but the emotions had hit her all at once, and now they were bubbling up, and there was no stopping them.

She trusted Kyra–she was one of the most important people in Y/n’s life, and had been for the last month. She could talk to her about how she felt…she just needed to be brave.

“I was jealous of you and Charli,” Y/n blurted out before she could change her mind.

Kyra lifted her eyebrows as if she was really surprised by the revelation.

“You’re jealous? Of Charli?” Kyra said. “Why? Did I do something?”

“No, no!” Y/n said quickly. “You didn’t do anything, I'm just…” She swallowed, her voice dropping to a mumble. “...possessive.”

“I was a bit, hm, upset, by the way she hugged you after your goal,” Y/n admitted, hating to open up. “And then you wrote the ‘best assistance ever’ and I got jealous because…hm, I also assisted you a lot, and I wanted to be your best assistance. Not Charli.”

For a second, Y/n braced herself for Kyra to respond seriously — maybe even get annoyed. But instead, Kyra chuckled softly.

“Baby, my love,” Kyra said, her voice warm. “You don’t even need to be jealous of anyone, especially Charli… I’m like, so down bad for you, it’s pathetic.

Y/n smiled, shyly. “I'm also down bad for you.”

“I know,” Kyra teased with a wink. “Got you talking about feelings and all that.”

“Shut up,” Y/n murmured.

“Now tell me,” Kyra grinned. “What the bloody hell were you talking about with Leha that got her worried?”

“Nothing,” Y/n said with a dismissive wave. “She was just being all friendly with Keira again…”

If it was safe to say Y/n jealousy of Keira was a very common topic of conversation between the Arsenal girls.

Y/n grumbled something unintelligible, earning another giggle from Kyra.

“But I gotta admit,” Kyra said. “You’re kinda cute when you're jealous.”

“No I'm not,” Y/n grumbled again.

“Yes you are,” Kyra insisted. “I even made that picture Beth sent into my wallpaper.”

“Kyra, please,” Y/n said deadpan. “Take it off. Put a picture of footy instead.”

“Nah, you’re cuter.”

Y/n groaned, tugging the blanket over her head.

“Hey, come on!” Kyra called out. “Don’t hide from me, you grump!”

Y/n peeked out, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not a grump.”

“You are,” Kyra laughed. “But you’re my grump.”

There was a pause — a warm, comfortable silence that neither of them felt the need to fill. Kyra’s face softened, her voice quieter when she spoke again.

“I miss you, you know?” Kyra murmured. “It’s weird not having you around to be obsessed over what I eat…Steph and Caitlin don’t let me pick any films during team movie night.”

Y/n’s chest tightened at that. “I miss you too,” she admitted. “It’s too quiet here without you… and Footy keeps sighing like he's disappointed in me. Guess I’m not the favourite mom”

“Poor boy,” Kyra teased. “He’s probably wondering why you’re so bad at cuddling.”

“Rude,” Y/n said, but she smiled. “I’m great at cuddling…but only within my own species.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Kyra promised. “And when I get back, I’m dragging you out of the house– I feel like you’re a part of this sofa already.

“You’re the worst,” Y/n muttered, her voice soft.

“You love me, thought ” Kyra shot back.

“Yes I do,” Y/n said quietly, smiling despite herself. “Kinda love you a lot.”

Part 10 here

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Notes//2: literally just wanted to write 3 little scenes: Y/n jealous of Charli, Y/n jealous of Keira and Y/n slowly realising something is going on between Alessia and Leah, but then it turned into a 6.5k monsters

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

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pookietv · 25 days ago

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lost in translation (part one) | george clarke

hello!!! well isn't this new, me writing a multiple part fic (or me uploading twice in a week nowadays)

pls pls pls tell me if ur enjoying cause i lowkey think i have a cute plot for this so :P

when you had moved to london two years ago, life had gotten pretty fast pretty quick.

you originally came from jersey - quaint and nice to grow up in, but not a fantastic place to explore and grow work experience. you knew chris through his family, your fathers had known each other for a long time, and you were introduced around high school. you and chris had been friends, despite him being a few years older than you.

then, he blew up on youtube, and moved away to london, living with friends, having more job opportunities on his doorstep. you kept in touch, not all the time, but the catch ups, even through phone, were a nice familiarity.

and when you told him how bored you were getting of your job here - assistant manager of a local pub, he mentioned work.

'well, i doubt you'll find what you're looking for in jersey'

you rolled your eyes (though endearingly) at your phone a little as you replied, 'oh yeah, i should just up and leave everything and move somewhere else with no promises of job?'

'well, chrismd industries is always looking for new and bright talent...'

you could almost see the smug grin on his face as that message went through.

and that was that. he rang you, offering you work if you wanted it - saying he wanted production crew that could help not only whilst filming but also as producing things for short form content, like tiktok, instagram, youtube shorts.

and your two years passed, you had a small apartment you were happy with, and a friend group chris had kindly enough adopted you into. you met all the people you had seen him frequenting with on screen, becoming close friends with becky, will and arthur hill.

the group was lovely, outings were often and life was good for you.

your only slight problem?

george clarke.

at first, you got on like a house on fire. you chatted all the time, he sent you things he found funny , you'd go round their house and have movie nights and you and george would always sit beside one another, and on a night out it was always you two lingering around each other, giggling to one another about something or another.

then?

distance happened. you couldn't even pinpoint it really, but he went a little cold. not to everyone, just you. he was the bubbly george clarke in any other conversation, but when it was just you and him? he was quieter, a bit more awkward and dismissive of anything you said to him.

you messaged asking if you'd done anything wrong, and he just said a simple, i don't know what you're talking about, nothings happened.

and so grew a silent seething dislike of stupid george, with his giggly laugh and instant quips.

you'd never let something as silly as that effect your friendships with the rest of them, so you mirrored george - you acted normal in public, ignored each other in private and that's how things ran. to call it a good system would be absurd, but it was a system that worked, and if it wasn't broken, you weren't gonna be the one to fix it.

you told your closer friends about it, about the distance and whilst they agreed, there wasn't much to be done. you told them not to kick up a fuss, if he wanted you to leave him alone you would, and that was that.

and that pretty much led you up to today, in arthur hill's bedroom, laying on his bed and talking nonsense whilst he sat at his desk, replying to some emails and talking back to you.

"oh, i forgot to mention to you, i think we're going to go out for a couple of drinks later on tonight, if you fancy coming," he said, swiveling round in his chair to face his bed, where you were flopped out, staring at the ceiling.

"what like, the whole group?" you asked, lifting your head to look at him.

"nah, just me and george, chris is on a date tonight," arthur replied.

you shrugged, letting your head hit the bed again, "i'll probably give it a miss then, let you two have a date also," you said, trying to make a light joke of the situation. the reality was, as much as you loved arthur, you and george sitting awkwardly and both just conversing to him and rarely talking to each other didn't seem like your perfect idea of fun.

"cause of the george thing?" arthur huffed, rolling his eyes as if chastising you.

"you make it sound like i'm terrified of george or something , but it'd just be awkward for all of us if i came," you responded, lifting your body to sit cross-legged for this conversation.

"you two don't even know what you don't like each other for, you just don't like each other, it's stupid!" arthur huffed, a petulant grin on his face.

"hey, i was left in the dark too, hell even i don't know why he doesn't like me," you half scoffed, half laughed, "it's not like i.. don't like him, we got along well, i'm just not gonna bother with someone who doesn't want me around."

"if it's any consolation, i don't think he doesn't want you around." arthur said, head swivelling back to the computer with a grin on his face.

#george clarkey #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader #george clarke #georgeclarkey fic #georgeclarke fic #georgeclarkey x reader #georgeclarke x reader

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schlattslonghairytoes · 7 months ago

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pictures and pizza📸 🌃 🌹

personal assistant reader x boss schlatt

schlatt forgets something important. again. how will he make it up to you?

working for schlatt was easy

getting every thing done meant you guys could kinda just hang out

you two were getting along great, you were basically friends, except you cooked for him, cleaned, and kept his schedule moving

and you were beginning to love it

but not everything can be perfect

there was one thing about schlatt that was very hard to deal with

schlatt is really fucking stubborn and no diss, a bit lazy

like omfg it was getting old

if he didnt want to do something, or better yet, didnt want to get out of bed!

there was no use, you had no chance of convincing him

but that is your job, and you were damn good at it

it was 10am, as that was the set time you and schlatt decided work began. he had gifted you a key to his apartment after one morning, where you had to call his little sister to let you in, you thought schlatt was dead.

he just fell asleep with headphones on.

anywho, you let yourself in and tidyed up the living room, because the night before schlatt promised you he would be up and ready at 10, he had an extremely important meeting at 11 that was kinda far.

like he could not miss this.

so you trusted him, you also hated barging into his room, it felt like a total invasion of privacy to you, schlatt didnt care when you did it, but to you it was the end of the world

so you waited.

and waited

until you knew he would not make it on time if he wasnt up.

so you mustered up all your courage and knocked on his door.

... silence

by then you gave up and opened the door, and oh lord if you werent mad at him it wouldve been the cutest thing youve ever seen

he was spread across his bed, limbs and blankets everywhere, and jambo and garlic bread (i am not writing REACTED every time.) were cuddled up on top of him. jambo curled up in his left arm, and garlic bread sprawled across his right leg

for a moment you forgot you were mad at him, he looked so handsome, yet so adorable, his mouth was open, and he was snoring softly, and honestly drooling a bit

you pulled out your phone and took a picture, wanting to make it your lockscreen but too scared he would see it. you hearted the picture in your camera roll before opening youtube

you connected your phone to his speaker in the room, and searched "morning bugle call" and hit play on full volume

jambo and garlic bread went flying off of schlatt as he sat up and slapped his hands over his ears "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT" you were wheezing on the floor at that point

when you finally stopped laughing you locked in and turned of the sound, then frowned slightly at him "up and at it, we were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago, you have 5 minutes to get ready. your outfit is picked and hung in the closet, lets go." and you shut his door and sat waiting on the couch

he was out in 4 minutes and 26 seconds. you handed him the breakfast you got him and made your way out the door silently.

"toots, im so sorry, i know i said i would wake up, i swear i set an alarm, c'mon dont be mad at me doll. i promise it wont happen again." he followed hot on your tail, almost chasing you.

like if someone saw they might be worried your about to be abducted.

you sighed and got in the drivers seat of your car, you wanted him to eat so you decided he could be the passenger princess for once

"schlatt this is the third time this week, im not mad, like this is literally my job, but it throws the whole day off, its whatever, eat your breakfast so you dont pass out at the meeting." the meeting was in new jersey and you didnt want to hear schlatts bitching the whole way

you turned up the music and hoped he would be quiet

schlatt on the other hand was rethinking his entire being

how could he let you down again, all he wants is for you to love and want your job, and hes already jepordizing that. for the span of the 30 minute car ride he hatched a plan.

after his four hour meeting he was drained, he waited to see your car pull up and get him, but you were taking an abnormally long time, he was getting worried

but those fears subsided quickly when he recived a text from you

"im gonna kms johnny. why the fuck did you have to have a meeting in new fucking jersey. traffic is insane, be there in 30 minutes pls dont die to a homeless man."

that certainly made him feel better, he searched for a near by store or cafe, but when he found a flower shop he knew that it was redemption time

you on the other hand wanted to throw yourself off of a freeway.

the traffic leaving the city to new jersey was insane, why on a thursday at 430 was traffic slower than joe biden falling off a bike? dont have the answer to that one

but this drive gave you time to think, it wasnt schlatts fault he had trouble waking up, and when traffic got so bad you could literally park, you went on amazon and bought him an alarm clock

one that will for sure wake him up, problem solved. now you could relax. night changes played on aux (rip liam 🥲) and you could think about the man you were ten minutes away from picking up

you opened your phone to see the picture from this morning, you decided so what if he sees, this picture ment the world to you, even though schlatt had been in your life for nearing a month, you knew he'd somehow be apart of it forever

schlatt stood outside of a coffee shop you told him to wait at, holding stuff that could possibly help fix his mistake.

when your car pulled up he started to get nervous, what if he got the wrong flowers, or they didnt make your coffee right, but those doubts melted away when your car came to a hault

you watched him open his door and hand you a large bouquet of flowers and a cold brew. overwhelmed at first you didnt realise what you were holding. you placed the cup into your cup holder and looked at the flowers infront of you

it was made up of roses, lilys, sweetpeas, carnations, alstroemerias, daphnes at the bottom you think?, ruscus, dusty millers, and eucalyptus.

you didnt even know this many pretty flowers existed, after placing the boquet on your lap, you reached over and threw your arms around schlatt

"johnny what is this!" you exclaim, voice muffled my his neck, suprised he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close

"thought you deserved a gift after i fucked up this morning" he sighs, whichmakes you pull away, but you place a hand on his cheek, slightly scratching his beard with your nails

"oh jay, i wasnt even really mad, this is the nicest thing anyones every done for me" you look at him in awe as he leans into your touch.

"yeah but i feel bad, m' gonna make it up to you, tonight your comin' over, were gonna watch 10 things i hate about you, play mario kart, and order pizza, dont ever let me break your trust again, sound good toots?" his smirk cut right through your heart

oh he looked so kissable right now

that night was spent cuddled up on his couch, playing wii games, forcing schlatt to watch rom coms, and stuffing your faces with pizza

he made you feel like you were in a rom com

that was only just beginning

#jschlatt #schlatt #john #youtube #jschlatt x reader #jschaltt #jschatt #jschlatt imagine #schlatty #schlatt imagine #schlatt x reader #pizza #newyork #chuckle sandwich #assistantxboss #schlattslonghairytoes #god i need him so bad #romcom #flowers

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courtyard01 · 1 year ago

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Find the Best Luxury Assisted Living Facility in New Jersey

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bsof-maarav · 8 months ago

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"[L]ate last month Rutgers required its RAs, whose job is to supervise students living in on-campus housing, to participate in a “bystander intervention” course aimed at training them to identify antisemitism, xenophobia, and Islamophobia. Several of the RAs, however, abruptly left the session after a Jewish speaker explained that Hamas’s antisemitism and desire to destroy the world’s only Jewish state precipitated the Oct. 7 massacre, which resulted in the largest loss of Jewish life in a single day since the Holocaust.

The paper added that the RAs took issue with the program’s citing a definition of antisemitism offered by the Anti-Defamation League (ADL). After walking out, they reportedly contacted Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP), which proceeded to author, on the RAs’ behalf, a series of Instagram posts denouncing the antisemitism trainings as racist and upholding white supremacy.

"The mandated training program organized by the Office of Residence Life requires RAs to learn about DEI, restorative justice, community engagement, and more — all of these are inspired by Indigenous practices meant to unpack systems of white supremacy,” SJP said. “On the contrary, this specific session worked to perpetuate Zionism, racism, and white supremacy.”

SJP’s post included comments from the RAs who involved them in the controversy. One of them, who claimed to be Jewish, said, “I am tired of the word antisemitism being used to talk over genocide, I am tired of antisemitism being inflated.” The RA added, “I fear that when the Nazis and radicals come once again for the Jews that no one will believe us … it will be your fault.”

Another who took issue with the Israeli nationality of one of the course’s presenters said, “One of the facilitators even identified as ‘Israeli’ and made mention of this multiple times. He justified his authority on the topic by citing his 12 plus years spent in ’48 Palestine, going so far as to call ‘Israel’ [sic] a ‘beautiful land.'”

A milieu of extreme anti-Zionism at the school has resulted in at least one death threat against the life of a Jewish student since Oct. 7. In November, a local news outlet reported, freshman Matthew Skorny, 19, called for the murder of a fraternity member he identified as an Israeli, saying on the popular social media forum YikYak, “To all the pro-Palestinian ralliers [sic] … Go kill him.”

Similar incidents at Rutgers have occured frequently. In the past few years, the school’s AEPi fraternity house has been vandalized three times. In one incident, in April 2022, on the last day of the Jewish holiday of Passover, a caravan of participants from a SJP rally drove there, shouting antisemitic slurs and spitting in the direction of fraternity members. Four days later, before Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day in Israel, the house was egged during a 24-hour reading of the names of Holocaust victims.

In March, the US House Committee on Education and the Workforce launched an investigation of Rutgers’ handling of antisemitism, responding to complaints that it has, for years, allowed an open season of hate against Jewish students."

#what i quoted was an excerpt but there's more at the link #antisemitism #antizionism is antisemitism #jumblr #october 7 #israel #usa diaspora #the one who was triggered by someone saying “I'm Israeli” is almost hilarious #touching grass is not enough for them #they need to actually go to this place they are so obsessed with #touch the ground at Ben Gurion airport then we'll talk #rfk is not the only one with brainworm #hamasniks

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morbidology · 8 months ago

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The rescue dogs of the September 11 played an extraordinary but often overlooked role in the wake of the terrorist attacks. These dogs were deployed to Ground Zero to assist in locating survivors trapped beneath the rubble, with many of them working for days on end. It was estimated that about 300 search and rescue dogs were tasked with the mission of finding not only survivors, but human remains as well.

One dog, a labrador named "Sirius," was the only police dog to die in the attacks. Assigned to the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, Sirius was in the basement of the World Trade Center when the towers collapsed. His handler had left him in his kennel, thinking he would be safe, as he helped escort people from the building.

These dogs provided more than just physical assistance—they offered emotional support to the rescue workers and survivors. The presence of these loyal, hardworking animals helped to lift the spirits of firefighters, police officers, and other emergency personnel who were dealing with overwhelming grief and exhaustion.

In some cases, SAR dogs, who were trained to locate living people, became depressed when they found only bodies, prompting handlers to stage "live finds" to boost their morale.

In the years since 9/11, the bravery and contributions of these dogs have finally been recognized and honored. Many of the surviving dogs lived out the remainder of their lives in comfort and with gratitude from the nation.

#September 11 #Dogs

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avcdgrdn · 8 months ago

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what if the OG mystery trio was born in 1997 instead of the 50's? welcome to my very self-indulgent AU:

[ explanation & more info below cut 😏 ] ↓ ↓ ↓

my fancy lil' name for the AU is RWFF [ rewind, fast forward ]

having been born at the very beginning of gen Z, this puts the trio at around 27 years old present day! it's a modern AU with a little bit of seasoning to it ...

no bill cipher [ let my boys be happy & un-traumatized ]

by 2014: the machine incident still happens, but stan never gets disowned: he apologizes, ford forgives him & stands up for him when his father gets mad. this allows stan to stay in the house, and he never sets out on his own.

staying true to canon, ford attends backupsmore, meets fiddleford, and does like a crap ton of PHDs until he receives the massive grant that allows him to explore gravity falls. however, since he never meets bill cipher, he never delves into the portal project. instead, he finds massive success with all of his other paranormal discoveries and ingenious inventions [ COUGH filthy rich COUGH ]

all throughout his studies, ford would often contact fiddleford for assistance on random projects. they hung out a lot for sure and got super close :)

meanwhile, stanley's chillin & working with a car repair shop back in new jersey. thanks to ford, his family is really well off, so he doesn't necessarily urgently need to provide for himself. he takes an interest in cars, so he loves his job. he keeps in touch with his twin almost every day [ we love smartphones ]

by 2024: having found such good success in gravity falls, ford remembers his twin brother & extends the invitation for stan to move in with him so that they can work on the stan-o-war together, which he readily accepts. :D

present day: stan & ford are living together in gravity falls & working on the stan-o-war. [ basically what the canon timeline twins end up doing after many more years ]

fiddleford often comes to visit, either for a scientific project or just to chill with the twins. he's also a successful inventor, just in a different font [ he for sure has that manor fr 🤑 ]

the beauty of this being present day is the aesthetics:

ford heavily identifies with the classic academia aesthetic

fidds takes on a 70's artsy-fartsy hippie granola guy aesthetic [ septum piercing & tattoos fidds pls save me ]

stan sticks to street fashion/racer jackets for suuure. he's thinking about getting into motorcycles... he heard that chicks really dig that nowadays.

so like ........ yeah 🕺

who would you date first please lmk 😘

#you dont wanna know how long fidds pants took to draw bruh #gravity falls #gravity falls au #stanford pines #stanley pines #fiddleford mcgucket #ford pines #stan pines #gravity falls art #gravity falls fanart #mullet stanley #its 2 am #im so tired #avcdgrdn art

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saywhat-politics · 5 days ago

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Ras Baraka, the mayor of Newark and one of six Democrats running to be New Jersey’s next governor, was arrested and detained by federal immigration agents Friday, according to his campaign.

This comes just over a week after the migrant jail, Delaney Hall, opened its doors as the largest detention center on the east coast. Baraka, whose city filed a lawsuit challenging whether the facility’s owner secured proper city permits before opening, has spent the week protesting outside the jail and attempting to gain entry, to no avail.

A photo taken by Rep. Bonnie Watson Coleman (D-12), who was also at Delaney Hall Friday, shows a handcuffed Baraka being led away from the facility in handcuffs. It’s unclear whether he has been charged with any crime and where he is being held.

Acting U.S. Attorney of New Jersey Alina Habba said on social media that Baraka “committed trespass and ignored multiple warnings from Homeland Security Investigations to remove himself from the ICE detention center.”

“He has willingly chosen to disregard the law. That will not stand in this state. He has been taken into custody,” said Habba.

Habba, a personal lawyer for President Donald Trump, said in April that she is investigating Gov. Phil Murphy and state Attorney General Matt Platkin over the state ban on local law enforcement assisting in civil immigration enforcement. Under a 2018 attorney general directive, state, county, and local cops are barred from aiding federal agencies in civil immigration arrests or providing access to state or local resources and databases.

#new jersey #newark #mayor #ras baraka #delaney hall #migrant jail #ice detention center

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eugenedebs1920 · 4 months ago

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As of Monday afternoon the wildfires in California had consumed over 36,000 acres leaving a death toll of 24. When asked in an interview regarding funding for disaster relief, Alabama senator Tommy Tubervill said this “We shouldn’t be [funding California]. They got 30 million people in that state they vote in these imbeciles in to office” former collage football coach and by far the dumbest senator continued, “you go in to California you run in to a lot of Republicans, a lot of good people and I hate it for them. But they are just overwhelmed by these inner city woke policies with people who vote for them. Those people don’t deserve anything unless they show that they’re going to make some changes”.

Notwithstanding the not so subtle racism of ‘inner city woke’ comment, exactly what is the senator from the state ranked 44th out of 50 for living standards, health, education, opportunity, natural environment, ect, saying?

Alabama’s GDP grosses $300 billion, with a population of a little over 5.1 million people, they are the 14th highest recipient of federal welfare assistance, they are 45th in education and 44th in overall health. Over 360,000 residents receive rental assistance and nutritional assistance.

Yes. California ranks number one for dollar amount federal assistance. Although upon further analysis the percentages are far less unbalanced as the numbers would suggest.

California is the WORLDS 5th largest economy, grossing $3,862 billion annually, with a population of nearly 40 million. That is over 10 times the annual revenue Alabama takes in, with almost 10 times the population as well.

Does California have its share of difficult circumstances it deals with, with some questionable solutions to do so? Yes. Yet seeing as it’s the top contributor to federal tax revenue they obviously are functioning beyond the norm.

Overall the states that fund this nation the most are, California, New York, New Jersey, Texas, Pennsylvania and Florida. States such as the Dakotas, Wyoming, Mississippi, Kentucky, and yes, Alabama, contribute a dismal amount in contrast.

Let’s look back to late summer of last year. When two hurricanes devastated the the lower southeastern states, Helene causing monumental destruction and incredible loss of life. Did the Biden administration use these disasters as a political tool? Did he suggest that they shouldn’t get funding until they remedy their bigoted, unconstitutional voter suppression and gerrymandering? No. He said that the United States government is here for you. While right wing politicians and media plastered the victims with false statements and misinformation, confusing and misleading the afflicted Americans, FEMA and the Biden administration begged the survivors to reach out for help. The politically motivated lies even spurred FEMA to create a specific website combating the false claims and offering assistance.

There’s the old saying, Rome wasn’t made in a day, the recovery from these massive events unfortunately takes time also. Yet NEVER did Democrats or Biden lead folks astray, exploit their vulnerability, or abandon them. I know, I reside in a county that was declared a disaster area after Helene. The federal response was quick, and thorough.

What did the right do? Lie. Mislead. Frighten. Contrive a self serving narrative. Enrage those impacted and scrambling to piece their lives back together.

The void of compassion, the insufficiency of truth, the lack of maturity from much of the right is astounding. When did we begin using the suffering of Americans as a tool to advance your political agenda? When did it become the status quo to segregate assistance to only those who align with your political views? What was the moment when helping your fellow American out in a time of need was tethered to conditions?

In my just over 40 years on this earth I’ve seen the GOP go from being a party of fiscal responsibility, “Christian family values”, the party of law and order, and the party of high moral standards, to now where over a quarter of the current deficit was created in one Republican presidential term, a party of nominating, elected and confirming sexual assailants and predators (not just Trump), a party that not only backs and supports a felonious insurrectionist, but tiptoes, if not flat out violates the Constitution and rule of law, and a party that has no self awareness of its own misgivings.

Personally. I want leaders who are far more intelligent and far more qualified than me to be in charge. I want leaders who harbor self restraint and possess an extraordinary sense of moral fortitude. I want leaders with grace and maturity running the various aspects of this country. I want leaders who care and hold reverence to their values and to the oath of office they swear to.

Can we go back to a time where those who represent us were adults? Can we go back to a time where government was beholden to you as an American citizen regardless if you reside in a blue state or red state? Can we go back to a time where leadership wasn’t a popularity, tribalist, culture war crusade?

We are all humans. We all feel pain. We all feel joy. We all bleed red. Most importantly we are all citizens of the United States of America, key word united.

This shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t be this controversial or complicated. We are one nation, we all want to see it flourish. We all do better when we are all doing better.

So please! Let’s return to decency. To compassion. To respect. To some mild form of social adhesion.

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honeydippedfiction · 2 months ago

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When It's Over {JH86}

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Sequel to Hidden In Plain Sight

Summary: Y/N makes the painful decision to leave her life in New Jersey behind, unable to continue hiding her feelings for Jack while watching him build a future with someone else. As she prepares to leave, a confrontation between them forces buried emotions to the surface, leaving both hearts shattered and a friendship broken.

WC: 4.9K

Warnings/Themes: Emotional intensity, Heartbreak, Unrequited love, Difficult conversations, Ensiotn-filled confrontations, Love and loss, Self-preservation, Emotional vulnerability, Unspoken feelings, Friendship versus romantic desire, and the pain of moving on.

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Months had passed since Y/N had first stepped into the chaotic world of the New Jersey Devils. The season had come and gone, and with it, her internship. But the shadow of unspoken feelings lingered, a constant ache that refused to fade.

She had convinced herself that time would dull the pain, that she would eventually find the distance she so desperately needed from Jack. But every shift, every game, every brief interaction with him felt like salt in the wound.

Y/N had stayed on, in a new role, albeit distant from the players. As the team’s assistant coordinator, she had more responsibilities, but she still found herself working alongside them during games, managing logistics, and handling media schedules. The routine kept her busy, kept her occupied—but nothing could dull the ache of seeing Jack every day.

Jack.

Her heart still skipped a beat when she saw him. Even after all this time, after witnessing him laugh and joke with his teammates, after seeing him hold Emily’s hand in public, after hearing him speak of their future, it was impossible to shut off the feelings that still burned for him.

But the hardest part wasn't the ache of wanting someone you could never have. It was the ever-present reality that she was nothing more than a spectator to their love.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : April 2024 ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 0:00 ��──────── 3:47

The cold air of the locker room didn’t do anything to shake the heaviness that hung in the room. Jack sat in front of his locker, his gear scattered around him, but his focus was entirely on the fact that the season he’d poured everything into was over. The weight of it was sinking in, slow and painful. His shoulder, injured more seriously than he’d realized, was going to need surgery. It was the kind of injury that put an end to a promising season, and Jack had always prided himself on being indestructible, on pushing through pain. But not this time.

Y/N had been walking past when she saw him sitting there, the usually lively and charismatic Jack Hughes now a shell of himself. His broad shoulders slumped forward, his hands hanging loosely between his knees, eyes staring blankly at the floor. She felt a wave of sympathy rush over her and stopped in her tracks, her heart aching for him.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, unsure whether to interrupt, but something inside urged her to. She couldn’t let him sit there alone, feeling this weight on his own.

“Jack?” she called softly, stepping into the room.

His head snapped up, surprised, but when he saw her, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly in a small, weary smile.

“Y/N," he said, his voice hoarse, as if the words themselves were difficult to get out. "Didn't expect to see you here."

She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I was just... worried. You okay?”

He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "Does it look like I’m okay?" He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It’s just... this sucks. I thought I could push through it. But the doctors said it’s worse than they thought. I need surgery. I’m done for the season.”

Y/N’s heart clenched. She knew it was serious, but hearing it from Jack, seeing the defeat in his eyes, made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

She didn’t have a response right away—what could she say? Instead, she walked closer to him, settling herself beside him on the bench. The space between them felt charged, heavier than it had ever been before. The sound of the rink outside, the whir of the fans, all faded away until it was just the two of them.

Without thinking, she gently placed her hand on his, her fingers brushing his skin as if offering some quiet comfort. His eyes flickered down to her hand, then up to her face. She could feel the warmth of his touch seeping into her, and for a moment, it felt like everything else stopped.

“I don’t know what to do with myself now,” Jack admitted, his voice quiet, vulnerable. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a rawness that made Y/N’s chest tighten.

She swallowed, her heart hammering as her gaze softened. "You don’t have to figure it out alone, Jack."

He turned his hand under hers, palm open, and gently entwined their fingers. His thumb brushed the back of her hand, a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes. He looked at her then, his gaze lingering longer than usual. The intensity in his eyes wasn’t the usual playful or flirtatious spark she was used to; it was different now—deeper, more searching. It was like he was seeing her in a way he hadn’t before.

For a second, Y/N forgot how to breathe. The weight of the moment was overwhelming. She could feel her pulse quicken, her body responding to the closeness, to the way his hand felt so warm and steady in hers.

“You don’t have to go through this alone either,” she whispered, her voice shaky, though she tried to keep it steady.

Jack’s expression softened. He leaned a little closer, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might kiss her. The space between them was so small now that she could feel the heat radiating off him, feel his breath, almost taste the longing in the air.

Her eyes fluttered shut, the anticipation filling her chest, but before anything could happen—before she could do something she knew she’d never be able to take back—the door to the locker room swung open with a familiar creak.

“Jack! I brought you something to eat,” Emily’s voice rang out, bright and cheery as she entered the room, completely oblivious to the tender moment between the two of them. She smiled at both of them, setting a bag down next to Jack.

Jack immediately straightened up, his posture shifting, and he pulled his hand away from Y/N’s. The smile on his face returned, more natural now, as he looked up at Emily. His entire demeanor changed in an instant, that warmth returning to his features. He took Emily’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Em,” he said, his voice much lighter, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "You’re a lifesaver."

Y/N sat there for a moment, her heart pounding in her ears. She felt the space between her and Jack grow like an invisible wall. She tried to smile, but it felt forced, like she was losing something she didn’t know how to hold on to. She couldn’t stay in this moment. Not now. Not when it felt like everything was shifting beneath her feet.

“Well, I should probably get going,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now, the words feeling strange on her tongue. "I’ll... leave you two to it."

Jack’s gaze lingered on her for a second, that flicker of something in his eyes—something unreadable. “Wait, Y/N...” he started, his voice catching as if he had more to say, but before he could finish, Emily leaned in closer to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Emily’s bright eyes met Y/N’s for a brief moment, and Y/N forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’ll see you later, Jack,” Y/N said softly, her words almost lost in the air as she turned and walked toward the door.

As the door clicked shut behind her, she leaned against the wall just outside, closing her eyes for a brief second to steady her breath. Her heart was still racing, the tension from the moment with Jack weighing heavy on her chest.

The thing that stung the most was that she knew, deep down, no matter how close they got in moments like this, she would always be on the outside. And Jack’s heart, as much as she wished it would be, was never going to be hers.

You were never mine, but I was yours. I was so yours.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 3:47 ───────ㅇ 3:47

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Present ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

The announcement came during a team dinner, casual and carefree, with Emily’s hand resting comfortably on Jack’s shoulder. The way Jack beamed as he spoke of their future—the way his voice trembled with excitement—cut through Y/N like a knife.

“We're engaged,” Jack laughed, looking around at his teammates with a grin so wide it practically glowed. “I’m so damn lucky, I can’t even believe it.”

Y/N tried to mask the ache, tried to shove it down deep inside her where she thought she could bury it forever. But as her eyes flickered to Emily—so radiant, so full of love—it became harder and harder to breathe.

She excused herself from the table, slipping away before anyone could notice the way her face twisted with pain.

The empty hallway was a familiar comfort, but it did nothing to quell the storm raging inside her. She leaned against the cold wall, her heart breaking for a love she’d never be a part of.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she glanced at it.

Jack: Hey, you good?

Her breath hitched, her fingers trembling as she typed a response.

Y/N: Yeah, just… needed a second.

She stared at her screen, the weight of his concern settling over her like a heavy blanket. He cared. He always had. But it wasn’t the same care he had for Emily.

Another text came through.

Jack: If you need someone to talk to, you know I’m always around.

Y/N’s chest tightened. The words were kind, and yet they only reminded her of the distance she could never cross. No matter how much she wished, no matter how much she hoped, she would always be on the other side, separated by a wall of reality. She couldn’t do it anymore.

She couldn’t keep pretending that things were fine. She couldn’t keep playing the part of the happy, supportive intern, the one who was always smiling but quietly dying inside.

Y/N: I think I need some time, Jack.

She hesitated before sending it, her heart heavy in her chest. But as soon as she hit ‘send,’ it felt like a weight lifted, even though she knew it was only temporary. It was a boundary she was setting for herself, a final act of self-preservation.

The next morning, the tension was palpable. Jack seemed to notice the shift in her, the way she avoided his eyes, the way she kept her distance. It wasn’t like before—before, when she could pretend everything was fine, when she could smile and laugh along with him without feeling like she was slowly dying inside.

Jack approached her after practice, his face unreadable. His eyes searched hers, looking for something, but she couldn’t give him what he wanted. She had learned that lesson long ago.

“Y/N…” he began, his voice soft but laden with something unspoken. “I… noticed the text. Is everything okay?”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight.

“I think I need some space, Jack,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to carry much further. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with all of this.”

The hurt in his eyes was visible, and for a moment, she thought she might break. But she held steady, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. She wasn’t sure if he understood, but she knew this was the only way. The only way for her to protect her own heart.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” Jack said, his voice a little too quiet, a little too careful. “I care about you, Y/N. You’ve been a part of this team. You’re part of my team.”

Y/N shook her head, unable to meet his gaze any longer. She turned, her voice breaking as she spoke.

“But not in the way I need you to be.”

And with that, she walked away, not looking back.

The days that followed were a blur. She buried herself in work, trying to outrun the ache that seemed to follow her everywhere. But nothing could make the pain go away. Every text, every glance, every friendly conversation with Jack only reminded her of what she could never have.

•❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀•⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

It had been a week since Y/N had submitted her resignation. The weight of the decision sat heavily in her chest, like an anchor dragging her down into a deep, turbulent ocean. Leaving had been the right choice, the only choice, but that didn't make it any easier to live with. How could it?

She’d worked in New Jersey for months, immersed in the chaos of the Devils’ world, surrounded by the team, the fast pace of the games, and—most painfully—Jack. The thought of staying in the same city, passing him in the halls, watching him with Emily, with that future she could never be a part of, had become unbearable. Every time their eyes met, the hollow ache in her chest deepened. Pretending to be fine had been an act she’d grown tired of, but she had played her part, plastering on a smile, doing her job, and keeping her emotions buried in the quiet corners of her heart.

But those walls had cracked.

She couldn’t keep lying to herself. And so, she’d made the hardest decision of all.

Her resignation letter had been brief, nothing more than a few polite lines: “Thank you for the opportunity, but it’s time for me to move on.” No elaboration, no drawn-out explanations. It was clean and to the point—just like she needed it to be. The team had been supportive, of course, but she could see it in their eyes—the questions, the curiosity they were trying not to voice. No one had asked directly, but everyone was wondering why she was leaving so suddenly.

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to share the real reason. She couldn’t tell them it was because of Jack. How could she? That would open a door she didn’t know how to close. The truth was, she had fallen in love with him—quietly, painfully, hopelessly. And the more she saw him with Emily, the more the weight of that love crushed her. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, no matter how many times she told herself to move on, the truth lingered like a shadow that refused to let her go.

But it wasn’t just about love, not anymore. It was about her heart—her sanity. The ache of watching him with Emily, the knowing that she would never be the one to share his future, was a burden she couldn’t bear any longer. She wasn’t going to stay and watch him live the life he deserved with someone else. It would break her. So she made the only decision that seemed to offer any kind of relief: she left.

The day she handed in her resignation, Y/N had expected to feel a sense of liberation. She thought that maybe, just maybe, the weight would lift. But instead, it had felt like she was closing a door she wasn’t sure she was ready to shut. The finality of it all gnawed at her. There was no going back now. And as she left the Devils’ offices for the last time, the emptiness that followed her felt more consuming than any moment before.

Her new path was already set in motion: a transfer to Dallas. The idea of starting fresh, far away from the memories of Jack and everything they could never have, was the only thing that had kept her moving.

Still, the question of why lingered in the back of her mind—why couldn’t she just be happy with the distance? Why was it so hard to let go?

She knew the answer. It wasn’t about the city or the team. It was Jack. She had given a piece of her heart to him, and no matter how hard she tried to forget, it was never going to be hers to keep.

The days after her resignation passed in a blur. Y/N kept her head down, focusing on finishing out her final tasks with the team, but every encounter with Jack only made it harder to breathe. Every time their paths crossed—whether in the hallway or during a brief conversation in the office—she felt her chest tighten. He was always so warm, so friendly, but it wasn’t her he was looking at. It was Emily.

And that was the hardest part.

Y/N wasn’t there for the morning skate. That fact hung in the air like an unanswered question, lingering in the back of everyone’s minds. Her absence wasn’t something anyone had anticipated, and soon enough, it became clear that her resignation had already spread like wildfire through the locker room. Whispers floated through the air, a mix of disbelief and curiosity as players exchanged looks and murmurs, trying to make sense of it all.

Jack was the first to find out. As he dressed in his stall, the rhythmic click of his skates on the floor seemed louder than usual. He fumbled with the zipper of his bag, but his attention was divided. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and when he glanced down, the world seemed to momentarily stop. His fingers trembled slightly as he unlocked it, his heart sinking as he saw the message that had been shared in the team’s group chat.

Y/N’s transferring to Dallas.

The words felt like a punch to the gut. Jack’s breath caught, his mind scrambling to process what he was reading. Dallas. It wasn’t just a new job—it was a new chapter, far away from New Jersey, far away from everything that had tied her to him.

His eyes scanned the messages, but they were all variations on the same theme: shock, confusion, questions. No one seemed to know why. Jack’s mind raced, but his focus remained glued to the screen of his phone, even though a part of him wanted to throw it across the room. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Y/N, the woman who had slipped so easily into his life, the one who had always been there with a smile and a kind word, was leaving.

He hadn’t seen her since the charity event, where everything had gone from casual to complicated in an instant. He could still remember how they’d danced, how close they’d gotten, the almost-kiss that had sent his pulse into overdrive. But then she had disappeared, leaving him in a haze of confusion, frustration, and unanswered questions. He hadn’t known what had changed, but now, as the news hit him with a force he hadn’t expected, it all made sense. She hadn’t just pulled away—she had made the decision to leave.

And he hadn’t even seen it coming.

The buzz in the locker room grew louder around him as the realization set in. His teammates were talking amongst themselves, but Jack wasn’t listening to their chatter. He could feel the weight of their words, the tension in the air as each person processed the news in their own way. Some were speculating about her reasons, others were simply processing the shock. But for Jack, the conversation felt distant. His mind was fixed on one thing: Y/N was leaving. She was really leaving.

It hit him hard, a rush of emotions swirling together: disbelief, regret, and a hollow sense of loss that was impossible to ignore. The floor beneath him felt unsteady as he tried to collect his thoughts, his fingers gripping the edge of his locker. The locker room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating in its familiarity. The same place where they had all shared moments, both lighthearted and intense, now felt like a cage.

Jack couldn’t shake the images of her from the past few months: the way her eyes had sparkled when they joked around, the way her laughter had filled the quiet moments, the way they’d shared little private glances. And now, all of it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

Why didn’t she say something? His mind screamed the question over and over, but he couldn’t answer it. He couldn’t understand why she’d chosen to leave without an explanation, without even giving him a chance to fix whatever had gone wrong between them.

The sound of the door opening pulled Jack out of his thoughts. He looked up, his eyes instinctively searching for her, even though he knew she wasn’t there. His teammates continued to shuffle around him, some heading toward the ice, others deep in conversation, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything else. He needed to talk to her. He needed to know why she was leaving, why she hadn’t said goodbye. There were so many things left unsaid, and now it seemed like they would remain that way forever.

•❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀•⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

Jack couldn’t shake the anger that clung to him as he rushed out of the arena. The practice had been a blur, the sounds of his teammates’ voices, the scraping of skates against the ice, all faded into white noise. His mind was consumed with one thing: Y/N.

She had left without a word, without so much as a goodbye. He couldn’t let that go, not when the pieces of their friendship had always meant more to him than she seemed to realize. He needed answers—he needed to confront her. She owed him that much.

With determination driving him forward, Jack found himself pulling into the parking lot outside her apartment building. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly as his eyes scanned the area.

And then, there she was.

Y/N stood in front of her building, her back slightly hunched as she loaded box after box into a U-Haul. Her best friend, Emma, was there too, carrying a box marked fragile. The sight of her packing up her life was like a slap to the face. Jack had expected something—anything—to explain this. But there she was, leaving, and she hadn’t even given him the courtesy of an explanation.

When she saw him, Y/N froze for a fraction of a second. Her eyes met his, and something like a tremor ran through her. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t walk away. Instead, she stood her ground.

Jack didn’t wait for her to speak first. His hands balled into fists, his body tense, and the frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiled over. He couldn’t keep pretending this didn’t matter.

“So, you’re really going to leave without saying goodbye?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence between them. “I thought we meant more to you than this, Y/N. I thought I meant more to you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her chest tightening, but there was no place left for the sadness to go. The anger had replaced it—raw, bitter, and all-consuming. She looked away from him, refusing to meet his gaze as the lump in her throat tightened.

“I didn’t want to make a scene,” she said, her voice strained, though her eyes remained hard. “I thought it’d be easier this way. For both of us.”

“Easier?” Jack’s words were almost a growl now, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “You think walking away without a single word is easier? You think I wouldn’t notice? You think the team wouldn’t notice? Y/N, you’re just disappearing. No explanation. No goodbye. After everything we’ve been through… after everything I thought we had… you just walk away?”

Y/N could feel the anger rising inside her like a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm her. She clenched her fists at her sides, fighting back the flood of emotions that were threatening to spill over. This wasn’t just about leaving the team—it was about leaving him.

“Jack…” She shook her head, her voice barely audible. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that this—” She gestured between them, her heart pounding with every word—“that this is anything more than... nothing.”

Jack’s face twisted in disbelief. “Nothing? What are you talking about? We were friends, Y/N. I thought you understood that! I thought you knew that we meant something to each other!”

The words stung, but Y/N didn’t flinch. Instead, the anger inside her only grew, fueled by everything she had kept buried for so long.

“I can’t do it anymore, Jack,” she snapped, her voice rising in frustration. “I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with you and Emily. With your perfect future with her. I’m done lying to myself about what I feel. And I’m done watching you live a life that doesn’t include me.”

Jack recoiled, as if her words physically struck him. His chest tightened. The air between them grew thick with the weight of unspoken truths. His mouth opened and closed, struggling to form the words that were slowly falling apart in his mind.

“You think this is about Emily?” he asked, his voice softer now, quieter, laced with hurt. “Y/N, you can’t just run away because of that. You think I don’t know how hard this is for you? But you don’t get to throw away everything we’ve built just because you’re scared of it.”

“I’m not scared, Jack!” Y/N snapped, her voice rising with frustration, her anger now bleeding into every word. “I’m tired! I’m tired of pretending to be okay with watching you have everything I want. Watching you build a future with someone else. I’m tired of lying to you, lying to myself. You think I haven’t been hurting? You think I haven’t been holding this all in for months?” She shook her head, her eyes flashing with the raw, untamed emotion she’d kept hidden for far too long.

Jack took a step back, stunned by the force of her words. This wasn’t the Y/N he thought he knew—calm, composed, always understanding. But now, she was a whirlwind of anger and pain, and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Y/N…” Jack’s voice cracked, his heart aching as he realized the gravity of the situation. “I didn’t know it was this serious. I thought we were friends. I thought you understood. I thought we were—”

“We were never more than friends, Jack!” Y/N cut him off harshly, her voice bitter, her face twisted with pain. She looked toward the U-Haul, her gaze lingering on the boxes as if they could offer some escape. “And it’s better this way. For you, for me, for everyone. I don’t have to keep pretending that there’s something between us when there’s not.”

Jack’s eyes darkened, frustration giving way to something else—something colder. He closed the distance between them, his voice steady but full of quiet menace. “So, this is how it ends, huh? You just walk away, no fight, no words, like it was nothing? You’re just giving up on us? On everything we shared?”

“Maybe I am giving up,” Y/N whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Maybe I have to. I can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t keep lying to you, to myself... pretending that I don’t care when I do.”

Jack’s chest tightened as he stepped closer, his hand almost reaching out to touch her, but Y/N flinched away. The distance between them was wider than it had ever been.

“You never had to lie to me, Y/N,” Jack said softly, his voice almost pleading. “You didn’t have to walk away. We could’ve figured it out... together.”

Y/N shook her head, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly, but the pain was still there. “No, Jack,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t keep pretending. I can’t watch you with her. I can’t watch you have a life that isn’t mine.”

The silence between them was suffocating, and Jack could feel the weight of every unspoken word pressing in on him. He wanted to say something—anything—to make her stay, but he knew it was too late.

Finally, Y/N straightened, her shoulders set in defiance. She turned toward the U-Haul, picking up another box and moving toward the truck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She didn’t look back as she walked away, her footsteps heavy in the quiet air.

Jack stood frozen, watching her. His heart ached as he realized what was happening. She was leaving. And he had let it happen.

He turned to leave, a deep emptiness settling in his chest. But as he made his way to his car, he realized just how much he had taken for granted.

He’d never truly understood what he had until it was slipping away.

And now, Y/N was gone—just like that. And it was too late to stop her.

The soft hum of the U-Haul engine started up behind him, the doors to her apartment closing as he got into his car, his mind racing with everything he should have said. But it was all too late now.

Y/N was slipping out of his life, quietly, without looking back. And he was powerless to stop her.

And in that moment, Y/N realized that it was truly over. She had let go.

She would never be the one to hold Jack’s heart, and that was the hardest truth to accept.

She whispered to herself, a final tear slipping down her cheek:

“I’ve got a girl crush,” she murmured, “and I’ll never be the one you choose.”

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

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