#I was hugging her and clinging to her to playfully annoy her

[foxtrology]

calm before the storm (5)

harry castillo x reader

series

word count: 11.3k

warnings: no y/n, 28 year age gap, female reader, angst, fluff, smut.

The espresso arrived in delicate porcelain cups with gold rims, served on a tray so elegant it looked stolen from a palace. A curl of lemon peel floated in hers. Harry’s had no lemon, no sugar—just black, bitter, and scalding, like everything else about him.

She stirred slowly, eyes flicking across the candlelit table as the night wound down.

Marcella was reapplying her lipstick with a tiny compact mirror.

Lorenzo was swirling the last of his wine, looking far too smug for someone who hadn’t said more than five words during dessert.

Paolo… was watching her.

Still.

His gaze was lazy and smug, lingering on the exposed curve of her shoulder where her dress dipped low. His smile said too much. His espresso stayed untouched.

She felt Harry shift beside her.

The air around them had been tense ever since Lucy was mentioned—no, dropped like a live grenade mid-meal. And now, every breath was edged. Every movement calculated.

She took a sip of the espresso.

Warm.

Sharp.

Nothing like the chill that had settled between her and Harry since Lorenzo opened his mouth.

Marcella rose first. “A beautiful dinner, as always. I do hope we didn’t scare her away, Harry. We’re just curious by nature.”

Harry stood politely. “I’ve noticed.”

Marcella turned to her. Kissed both cheeks, leaving behind lipstick marks, the scent of expensive perfume clinging like static. “You’re lovely. Don’t let us corrupt you.”

She wanted to scoff. But didn't.

Livia followed, flicking her perfectly toned hair over one shoulder, clearly trying not to show how annoyed she was by the way Paolo had looked at her all night.

“It was… a pleasure,” She said with a tight smile.

“Likewise,” Livia replied, cool.

Then Paolo leaned in.

And it was way too close.

His arms wrapped around her like they’d known each other longer than ninety minutes, like he thought he was owed something soft and flirtatious just for finishing his pasta.

“Stunning,” he whispered, right by her ear. “Absolutely stunning.”

His hands hovered at her waist.

And lingered.

Until Harry’s voice cut in like a whip. “That’s enough.”

Paolo didn’t flinch.

Just smiled. Slow. Smug. Sleazy.

He released her, turning back to Harry with a shrug.

Livia’s jaw ticked. The muscle along her neck pulsed once.

Francesca playfully rolls her eyes when Livia's back is turned.

"Ignore her. Jealous." 

Luca nods at Harry, muttering out a goodbye. Francesca kisses her cheek, whispering ciao before disappearing with her husband.

“Let’s go,” Harry muttered, his hand finding her back—not gentle, not affectionate. Just there.

But before they could walk away, Lorenzo cleared his throat.

“Harry—don’t forget tomorrow. Nine sharp. Contract revisions with Giuliana. She’s flying in.”

Harry’s mouth was a flat line. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

She offered a tight smile to the rest of group she didn't bother to get the names of, stepping back from Harry slightly. Just enough to create distance, but not enough to make a scene.

Danny approached, arms crossed loosely, face unreadable. But as everyone else started peeling off toward their rooms or the private bar tucked into the side of the villa, he leaned in close to her.

Low enough that Harry wouldn’t hear.

“They’re assholes,” Danny whispered. “All of them. Don’t let them make you feel small.”

She blinked.

He glanced back toward the dinner table, then met her gaze again.

“You’re the only real person here.”

Then, louder, “Night, boss. Night, trouble.”

He smiled at her. And left.

The walk back to the room was silent.

Not companionable silence. Not comfortable silence.

Uncomfortable silence.

Her heels clicked sharply against the stone walkway. The air smelled like rosemary and wine, but it was ruined now. Everything felt sharp-edged and unfinished.

Harry’s hand wasn’t on her back anymore.

She hugged her arms around herself, silk dress clinging to her skin, still warm from the evening, now feeling like too much. Like a costume.

He didn’t speak until they were halfway up the stairs.

“You’re quiet.”

She didn’t look at him. “So are you.”

He scoffed. “You’re mad.”

“No,” she said, too quickly. “I’m—” she stopped. “I’m not mad. I’m… processing.”

They reached the room. He opened the door. Held it open for her.

She stepped in.

The villa room was still warm, glowing from the faint amber lights left on by the staff. It smelled like lemons and her perfume and something delicate hanging in the air, still waiting to break.

Harry shut the door behind them.

The tension was immediate.

A rope pulled taut.

She didn’t turn around. Just stared out the open balcony doors, arms crossed, back stiff.

Harry set his watch on the nightstand. “Say it.”

She blinked. “Say what?”

“Whatever it is you’ve been dying to say since dessert.”

She turned now. Slowly.

Her dress shifted with the motion, silk whispering against her thighs.

“You didn’t tell me,” she said quietly.

“Didn’t tell you what?”

She blinked. Really?

“That you were invited to Lucy’s wedding.”

He sighed. Rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

She let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “You didn’t think it mattered?”

“It was just a fucking card. An invite. I didn’t even RSVP.”

“You didn’t tell me,” she repeated, voice rising. “You brought me to Italy and introduced me as your girlfriend in front of those people—people who clearly still talk to your ex—and you didn’t think it would matter?”

“She’s irrelevant.”

“Is she?” Her voice cracked slightly. “Because it didn’t feel that way when everyone at that table kept bringing her up like I was some new accessory you brought to distract from the fact that you haven’t moved on.”

Harry stiffened.

Jaw tight.

“She’s not why you’re here.”

She folded her arms tighter across her chest. “Then why am I here, Harry?”

His eyes darkened.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You brought me to Italy. To this villa. To that dinner. And you made a scene every time someone looked at me too long—”

“I didn’t make a scene.”

“You glared at Paolo like you wanted to set him on fire.”

“The way he touched you.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “You’re unbelievable.”

He moved closer, slow and predatory. “You’re upset because I didn’t tell you about the invitation?”

“I’m upset because I don’t know what I am to you, and tonight it felt like you brought me here just to show me off.”

He flinched. It was subtle. But it was real.

“I didn’t bring you here for them.”

“No?” she whispered. “Then why now? Why Italy? Why introduce me like I’m your girlfriend and then not tell me the one thing that could change the entire context of this trip?”

Harry looked away.

And that was worse than yelling.

It was silence again.

Cold. Strategic. Familiar.

She hated it.

“I’m not her,” she said, quieter now. “I’m not Lucy.”

He didn’t respond.

She stepped back.

“I don’t want to be part of some rebound performance for your colleagues. I don’t want to be the girl you use to prove something.”

“You think that’s what this is?”

“I don’t know what this is,” she snapped. “Because you don’t talk about it. You just show up. You just do. You make tea and buy groceries and show up in the rain and give me keys and whisper things when we’re in bed and none of it makes sense.”

His voice dropped. “It makes sense to me.”

“Well, it doesn’t to me.”

She didn’t mean to cry.

But the tears came anyway—furious and humiliated and hot against her cheeks.

And Harry just stood there.

Not moving.

Not speaking.

Not reaching for her.

And that—

That broke something.

She turned toward the door.

He didn’t stop her. Didn’t say her name. Didn’t chase her.

So she walked out. Into the villa hallway. Barefoot.

Wearing that stupid silk dress that now felt like a costume for someone she didn’t recognize.

And Harry?

Harry stood in the quiet aftermath.

Watching the door. And saying nothing.

Just like always.

That’s what echoed in her head after the door clicked shut behind her—just like always.

It followed her down the hallway, a shadow of a thought that curled into the folds of her dress, into the crook of her neck, into the hollowness that lived behind her ribs.

Outside, the air smelled like something ancient.

Not perfume. Not wine.

Stone.

Wet stone, cracked and sun-warmed, steeped in centuries of candle smoke and blood and rain.

The kind of smell you didn’t get in America.

The kind of smell that told you, you were far from home.

She walked without a purpose.

The path outside the villa was dimly lit, bathed in the low flicker of lanterns strung between olive trees. The gravel hurt her feet—of course it did—but she didn’t turn back for shoes.

Didn’t care.

It was almost satisfying, the tiny stabs against her soles. Something real. Something sharp. Her dress clung to her thighs, catching on her knees with each step. It whispered as she moved. Almost pleading.

She passed the vineyard, now just a silhouette of stalks and wire. The grapes had been picked already, nothing but the memory of harvest clinging to the air.

The road bent to the left. She followed.

She walked until she didn’t know where she was.

Until the villa was gone behind her.

Until the only thing she could hear was the sound of her breath and the soft crunch of gravel.

She wished she had brought her coat.

She wished she’d screamed at Harry.

She wished she’d stayed quiet.

Most of all, she wished she was home.

Not New York. Home.

Her shitty little apartment. Her corner of chaos. Her socks with holes and half-made puzzles. Her books stacked like fire hazards. Her stupid crooked lamp and the incense she lit when she couldn’t sleep.

And Frances.

God, Frances.

She would’ve followed her into the bathroom. Sat on the sink while she washed her face. Meowed like a tiny judge if she cried.

Now there was nothing.

Just an old road in a country that didn’t belong to her.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. The screen lit up.

12%

A panic rose. Brief and strange.

It wasn’t just battery. It was proof of connection. A lifeline. A thread.

And when she saw Maya’s name in her favorites, she pressed it without thinking.

She didn’t even know what time it was back home.

Didn’t care.

The phone rang twice.

And then—

“Dude,” Maya said, voice groggy, “It’s like five a.m.—”

“I’m sorry,” she said, so quickly it came out cracked. “I just—I just needed to hear your voice.”

Maya paused.

Then sat up. She could hear the rustle of sheets.

“Oh no,” Maya murmured. “What happened.”

“I left.”

“What?”

“I left the room. I’m—I’m outside. I don’t even know where I am.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Are you safe?”

“I think so.”

Another pause.

Then Maya exhaled slowly, her voice softer. “What happened.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It was supposed to be this beautiful, perfect thing. And it was. It was, for like, five minutes. And then it all cracked. It just—cracked. And now I’m here. Barefoot. And I just want to be in my bed. With my cat. I want Frances sitting on my stomach while I try to sleep.”

Maya let her talk.

Didn’t interrupt.

She sniffled. “I feel so fucking stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I thought he brought me here because he wanted me here. And now I feel like—I don’t know. Like I’m a prop. Like I’m some beautiful thing he found and polished and put on a plane to prove something.”

“Did he say that?”

“No.”

“Did he make you feel that?”

“Yes.”

A breath passed on the line.

“Then fuck him,” Maya said, calm and certain.

She laughed through her tears.

“He’s just a guy, babe,” Maya said, her voice warmer now. “A guy with a nice face and a big wallet and apparently zero communication skills. But you? You’re you. You were whole before him.”

“I don’t feel whole.”

“You’re just cracked at the edges right now. That’s temporary.”

She said nothing.

Maya added gently, “And also, Frances misses you. She sat on your hoodie and refused to move for three hours.”

That made her laugh again.

“God, I’m so tired,” she whispered.

“Then come home.”

She blinked into the night.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Then stay. But make it worth it. Don’t mope in a five-star villa.”

“I’m not in the villa.”

“Where the hell are you?”

She looked around.

Then up.

Stars. So many of them. Not like New York. They looked like spilled sugar.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, find someone who looks like they know where they are and ask them to take you to wine.”

“I’m not wearing shoes.”

“Classic.”

Another beat.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’ll keep my phone on.”

She nodded, though Maya couldn’t see her.

“Love you,” she added.

“Love you too. And hey—fuck him.”

The call ended.

6%

She slipped the phone back into her dress pocket and exhaled, long and shaky.

And then—

A voice behind her.

“Excuse me?”

She turned, startled.

A girl stood a few feet back. Early twenties, maybe. Italian. Short hair, dark curls clipped back loosely, face flushed with wine.

She was holding a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of something in the other.

“You okay?” the girl asked, English accented but clear.

She blinked.

Nodded too quickly.

The girl tilted her head. “You look sad. And barefoot.”

“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice cracked.

The girl didn’t move.

Didn’t leave.

Instead, she smiled softly. “We’re having drinks. Me and my friends. You should come.”

“I’m not wearing shoes.”

The girl looked down. Then smiled again—this time wider, open.

Without a word, she stepped out of her sandals and handed them over.

“They’re a little big,” she said. “But they’ll get you there.”

She stared at the sandals.

Then at the girl.

Then back at the sandals.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Chiara,” the girl said. “Now come. Before the bottle runs out.”

And without thinking, without hesitating, without asking who the friends were or where the drinks were or what kind of night this would turn into—

She slid her feet into Chiara’s sandals. And followed her into the dark.

Into something that was not Harry.

Not heartbreak. Not home.

But something. And sometimes?

That was enough.

For now, at least.

Chiara led her through narrow, winding cobblestone alleys that opened like secrets into wider roads.

The buildings were the color of peaches and faded terracotta, windows shuttered, vines trailing down from balconies. The air was warm even at this hour, kissed by the day’s sun, soft with the hum of nightlife.

She could hear music before she saw it—something pulsing and golden in the distance. A rhythm built from laughter and basslines and clinking bottles. It wasn’t a club. Not here. It was something older.

Wilder.

More communal. Like the heartbeat of a town that refused to sleep.

The street opened onto a wide stone courtyard surrounded by low houses and lanterns strung in crooked lines between olive trees and window hooks. Someone had dragged out folding tables and plastic chairs. Children ran barefoot. Older women in cotton dresses danced slowly near the center. Men clinked glasses. Twentysomethings passed along cigarettes.

Everyone looked like they belonged.

And there, on a makeshift stage cobbled from old crates and a rug, a small local band played with chaotic joy. The guitarist was in his sixties, sunglasses on, nodding along as the singer belted out Heart of Glass in a thick accent, missing half the words but not a single beat.

Chiara turned to her with a grin. “See? Worth it.”

She smiled back, dizzy with the scent of grilled meat and overripe lemons. The sandals were too big, but they kept her grounded. The silk dress fluttered around her knees. Her hair was a mess. Her mascara probably gone. And she looked exactly like someone who had been crying.

And still—

For the first time all day, she didn’t care.

Chiara handed her a glass of something cold and pale.

“Try,” she said.

She did.

Wine. Sharp and dry, with a citrus aftertaste that bloomed on her tongue like summer. It made her eyes water in the best way.

They didn’t go to the center of the party at first. Chiara weaved through groups, greeting everyone like a favorite daughter. Everyone smiled when they saw her. Kissed her cheek. Clapped her shoulder. Called her name.

And then—Chiara turned, placed a hand on her arm, and said, “You should meet a few people.”

And she did.

She was led to a long table tucked beneath a tree strung with fairy lights. Four older locals sat there already—men and women with weathered hands and soft laughter. One wore a scarf around her hair and had a cigarette burning in an ashtray shaped like a tomato.

They didn’t ask questions. Didn’t try to fix her. They just pulled out a chair. Made room.

Set a plate in front of her with bread and soft cheese and figs.

The woman with the scarf poured her another glass of wine. “Bella. Mangia.”

She did. And for a while, she just watched.

She watched a teenage girl dance with her grandfather, both of them barefoot, both of them smiling like nothing had ever gone wrong in the world.

She watched Chiara spin with a boy in a leather jacket, laughing like a movie scene.

She watched people clink glasses and hold hands and sing even if they didn’t know the lyrics.

The way the light caught on olive oil skin, on soft teeth, on silver bangles.

The way everything moved in circles.

Like life was a loop of love and forgetting.

She didn’t look at her phone.

Didn’t think about Harry. Didn’t allow herself to.

Not yet.

Chiara returned with a new plate of something fried and a boy trailing behind her. Tall. Tanned. Tousled curls. A soft jaw and a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off.

“This is Nico,” Chiara said with a wink. “He is nice.”

Nico smiled at her shyly. “Ciao.”

“Hi,” she murmured.

He sat beside her.

Didn’t touch her. Didn’t push.

Just started talking.

His English was halting but eager. He was from the next town over. Studied architecture. Played piano. Wanted to move to Berlin one day but hated the cold. His favorite American movie was Kill Bill. His favorite band was The Strokes. His mother made the best limoncello in the province. He had a cat named Pesto which his little brother named.

She smiled. Asked questions. Laughed.

He made her forget, for a few minutes, that her chest was full of broken glass.

When the music slowed and a new song began by Fleetwood Mac, softer now, melodic—Nico offered his hand.

She hesitated.

Then stood. They walked to the edge of the courtyard.

He didn’t pull her in close. Just kept a polite distance, hands barely touching her waist, eyes downcast, respectful. He danced like someone who wasn’t trying to impress her. Just trying to make the moment stretch.

And she let herself sway.

For a while.

Until something shifted.

Until he looked at her and his fingers brushed the bare skin at her hip and her whole body stiffened—

Not because she was afraid.

But because she couldn’t.

Wouldn’t. Not to Harry.

Even after everything.

Even after the silence and the lies and the way he just let her walk out like she was nothing.

She couldn’t be the one to do something cruel.

She pulled back gently.

Nico stepped away immediately. “I’m sorry—did I—?”

She shook her head. “No. No, it’s not you.”

He nodded once. “Is it someone else?”

She nodded again. “Yes.”

His mouth curved in a sad smile.

“Then he is lucky,” he said softly.

She blinked. Swallowed.

“Thank you,” she said. “For dancing with me.”

“Of course,” he murmured. “Even girls like you deserve to dance.”

She smiled. A real one.

He kissed her hand. Briefly. 

Then he walked away. she didn’t follow. Didn’t sit down.

Just stood there as the song changed again—Call Me this time, the band getting rowdier, the tempo rising.

And she laughed. Out loud.

Because it was absurd. Because she was barefoot in borrowed sandals in a foreign town, dancing to Blondie with strangers under stars that didn’t belong to her.

Because the world hadn’t ended. Not yet.

Chiara reappeared, cheeks flushed, hair wild. “You okay?”

“I think I am.”

Chiara beamed. “Good. You stay until the last bottle. That’s the rule.”

She nodded.

And she did.

She stayed through four more songs, four more drinks, two more strangers who told her she had kind eyes.

She stayed until her dress clung to her knees and her feet were dirty and her phone was down to 3% and her laughter felt like it belonged to someone new.

Harry had stopped pacing only to check the time.

10:52 PM.

Then again.

11:14.

11:37.

11:58.

12:17.

And every time, the numbers made less and less sense, like they were mocking him. He’d checked his phone so many times he couldn’t remember if he’d texted her once or ten times. He hadn’t called, though—not yet.

The first hour, he was sure she’d be back.

She just needed air.

That’s what people say when they need to cool off, right?

Get space.

Take a breath. She was always walking off somewhere when she needed to process—he remembered her telling him that once, offhand, like it was no big deal.

"I just walk. It helps me think. Helps me not freak out."

So he waited.

Like an idiot.

Let her walk out in a silk dress with nothing on her feet and a thousand emotions clawing at her throat and said nothing.He hadn’t even moved.

He hated that version of himself. Hated the silence. Hated how familiar it had become, how easy it was to fall into that old defense mechanism of shutting down before things could get worse. That’s what he did with Lucy. That’s what he did with everyone.

But she wasn’t Lucy.

God, she wasn’t Lucy.

And he had wanted to tell her that tonight. Had planned to. Right after dessert. Right after Lorenzo made that comment about the invitation. Right after Paolo looked at her like she was something edible and Harry had nearly ripped his throat out with a butter knife.

Instead?

She asked why she was here.

And he didn’t have the courage to answer the way he wanted to.

"Because you’re the only person who makes the rest of it feel quiet."

But it was too late now. She hadn’t texted back.

His last message sat there like a ghost,

Old man Harry ��️👴: Where are you? Please. Just tell me you’re okay.

He sat with that for five minutes. Then stood. Paced again. Kicked the edge of the nightstand by accident and cursed. Then noticed something on the floor near her suitcase.

Her sandals.

The flat ones she packed at the last second because she hated the way heels made her feet ache when they walked too long. She almost didn’t bring them. He remembered teasing her about overpacking. She’d rolled her eyes and stuffed them in anyway.

He picked them up.

Turned them over in his hands like they might tell him something. Then he grabbed his coat for her.

Left the room.

The hallway was too quiet. Like the villa itself had exhaled and gone still. He made it to the main staircase before spotting one of the employees—a young guy, maybe twenty, sweeping flower petals off the marble.

Harry didn’t even hesitate. “Did you see a woman leave earlier? Silk dress. Barefoot.”

The guy blinked. “Ah, yes. Yes. I think she went toward the town. A girl was with her. Dark hair. They were laughing.”

Harry’s stomach dropped.

The town.

Jesus Christ.

She was barefoot in a foreign town at midnight wearing something that belonged on a fucking Vogue cover and she didn’t have a goddamn jacket and—fuck.

He nodded tightly. “Thanks.”

And then he walked.

Not drove.

Walked.

He didn’t want the barrier of a car. Didn’t want anything between them when he found her—because he would find her. He had to.

And he’d do it holding her sandals like a goddamn fool, because if she needed them, he’d be ready.

The gravel gave way to the road. The olive trees faded behind him. The lanterns thinned. The cobblestones began. He followed the noise.

He knew this kind of sound. Not the sound of a bar or a club—but community.Music. Voices. Bottles clinking. Old songs sung out of tune. A courtyard party. Some kind of celebration.

And when he turned the corner, it was like walking into another century.

The stone square was alive with light and movement. Paper lanterns, wine bottles, music bleeding from a band tucked under string lights. Kids dancing. Grandmothers smoking. Tourists. Locals. Some combination of both.

And there—God.

There she was.

At a table tucked beneath a tree.

Laughing. Barefoot.

Wearing the silk dress he loved so much, with her legs tucked under her like she’d been there for hours, a half-eaten peach in her hand, juice dripping down her wrist. An older woman sat beside her, talking with big hand gestures, and she nodded along, eyes bright, like she understood every word.

Harry didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

She looked radiant.

She also looked...not sober.

And he should’ve been mad. He should’ve stormed across the courtyard and demanded to know what the hell she was thinking. But the moment he saw her—truly saw her—his anger dissolved.

Because she wasn’t being reckless.

She was surviving.

In the only way she knew how.

He approached slowly. Not wanting to scare her.

The older woman saw him first. Gave him a sharp look, one that said, don’t you ruin this for her. And then she leaned over and said something to her in Italian. She turned her head.

And saw him.

Her eyes went wide. But she didn’t smile.

Didn’t move.

Just looked at him like she wasn’t sure if he was real.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She blinked. “Harry.”

“You left your shoes.”

She looked down at his hands.

And then—God, then—she laughed. Just a little. Just enough to break something in him.

“You came all this way to bring me shoes?”

“I came to find you,” he said. “The shoes are just...part of the deal.”

She swallowed.

The older woman stood and patted her shoulder. Then her cheek. Then kissed her forehead like she was her own granddaughter and walked away into the party.

Harry sat down beside her.

Set the sandals on the ground.

She didn’t put them on.

Instead, she looked at the peach in her hand.

Then up at the sky.

“I met a girl named Chiara,” she said. “She gave me shoes. Then gave me wine. And then took me here.”

He nodded.

“I was worried.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

He nodded again.

Her voice was slower now. Tipsy. Not slurring, but looser than usual.

“I called Maya,” she added.

“I figured.”

“She told me to stay. Make it worth it. Not mope in a five-star villa.”

A beat.

“Were you moaning about me in Italian to strangers?”

“Only a little.”

He smiled, finally. “That’s fair.”

Another beat. She looked at him then.

And her expression cracked, just a little.

“I didn’t mean to leave like that.”

“I didn’t mean to let you.”

She closed her eyes.

Harry reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a napkin. Reached forward. Wiped the peach juice gently from her wrist. She didn’t pull away.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said.

“I know.”

“I thought maybe you were coming back. The first hour. I thought you were just—walking it off.”

“I was.”

He exhaled.

“I didn’t know how to fight with you,” she said. “This was our first one.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t like it.”

“I hated it.”

She looked at him again. “I thought you were going to yell.”

“I don’t want to be that guy.”

“I didn’t want to be the girl who runs.”

“And yet.”

She smiled, tired. “And yet.”

A pause.

Harry leaned back in the chair, watching her like he didn’t know whether to kiss her or hold her or just sit there until the sun came up.

“I should’ve told you about the invitation,” he said finally. “I didn’t because I didn’t want it to take up space in this. In us. But I should’ve known it would.”

She said nothing.

He tried again.

“I didn’t come here with you to prove anything. I came here because I wanted to wake up next to you in this place. I wanted to see you eat peaches and drink wine and wear that fucking dress and let me love you.”

She flinched slightly.

“You could've told me that,” she said quietly.

“I know.”

He looked down at her bare feet.

“I brought your sandals and my coat in case you got cold,” he added. “I didn’t want you walking back on the road with nothing.”

“You remembered I packed them.”

“I remember everything.”

She pressed her hands to her face. “God, I’m a mess.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m wine-stained and peach-dripping and probably sticky.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She dropped her hands.

Met his eyes.

And for the first time all night, he saw the pain underneath.

“You let me walk away.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t stop me.”

“I didn’t think I could.”

“Well,” she said, voice cracking, “you could’ve tried.”

That was what broke him.

He leaned forward.

And gently, slowly, reached for her.

One hand on her thigh, steady. One hand on her jaw.

“I’m trying now.��

She looked up.

And when he kissed her, it wasn’t desperate.

It wasn’t apologetic. It was real. Soft. Unshaken. Earnest.

When they finally pulled apart, she touched her forehead to his.

“Take me back,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Villa?”

She nodded her head. “Please.”

He nodded.

And helped her to her feet.

She didn’t put on the sandals right away. So he bent down. And slipped them on for her. One foot. Then the other.

She looked at him like she couldn’t believe he was real. And maybe, finally, he felt real too.

He wrapped his coat around her shoulders. Tucked her against his side.

She gave Chiara back the shoes just as they were reaching the edge of the courtyard.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice thick with wine and gratitude.

Chiara waved her off like it was nothing, grinning. “Don’t thank me. You needed them more than I did.”

They stood there for a beat—Chiara’s cheeks flushed, her sandals dangling in one hand, the air around them scented with smoke and lemon zest and melted sugar.

Then, Chiara turned to Harry.

Her eyes flicked up and down, assessing him the way only someone deeply unfazed by power could. “You’re the boyfriend?”

Harry blinked. “I—”

“Yes,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sleepy but certain. Like it wasn’t even a question. Like she already knew the answer.

Harry turned to look at her.

And then back at Chiara.

Chiara smirked, eyebrows lifting with mischief. “My family is having a dinner tomorrow. It’s for the town. You should come. Both of you.”

“Dinner?” she asked, dazed, adjusting the coat around her shoulders. “Like... family dinner?”

“Like long tables, cheap wine, too many cousins, lots of pasta. Real dinner,” Chiara said. “Everyone’s invited. But you’ll be my favorite guests.”

She hesitated.

Harry didn’t say anything.

And then Chiara added, almost in a sing-song whisper, “Boyfriends are allowed.”

That made her laugh.

A soft, surprised sound that bubbled out before she could stop it.

She looked up at Harry.

Hair messy. Eyes tired. Mouth pink and smudged. Wrapped in his coat like it had always belonged to her.

He looked at her like he was still catching his breath.

She turned back to Chiara. “We’ll come.”

Harry still didn’t speak.

He just nodded once.

And the way he looked at her—like her saying yes was the only thing that mattered—was its own kind of vow.

He’d do whatever she told him to.

The walk back to the villa was slower this time.

She was quiet now, the kind of quiet that only came when the world had finally stopped spinning. Her shoulder pressed into his side as they walked. Every few steps, she stumbled slightly—nothing dramatic, just enough for him to catch her waist and steady her.

“You alright?” he murmured once, voice low in the hush of the road.

She nodded into his shoulder. “Mhm. I’m just…falling in love with you.”

Harry swallowed.

He wrapped an arm around her tighter.

By the time they reached the villa gates, most of the staff had gone. The courtyard was quiet, the lanterns dimmed to a low, amber flicker.

But one worker—a young man in pressed linen, eyes wide the moment he spotted Harry—stood frozen near the entrance, stacking empty glassware into a crate.

Harry didn’t break stride.

He glanced once in the man’s direction. “Water and crackers to our room. Now.”

The man paled. “Yes, Mr. Castillo. Right away.”

She didn’t say anything.

But she looked up at him.

“You didn’t even ask,” she whispered, scoffing.

“You’ve been drinking. You’ll wake up with a headache.”

“Harry.”

He didn’t look at her. “Don’t argue. You’re not going to win.”

She smiled. Sleepy. Touched.

���I wasn’t going to argue,” she murmured. “It’s… nice.”

He said nothing.

But his fingers flexed at her waist.

As if holding her tighter was the only way to respond.

Back in the room, the air was warm again.

The balcony doors had been closed by the staff, but the faint smell of night drifted in anyway—lavender and stone.

He helped her out of the coat.

Set it carefully over the back of the velvet chair.

She didn’t say anything. Just stood there in the middle of the room, blinking at the floor like her body had finally remembered it was tired.

“You want to shower?” he asked, gently now.

She nodded. “I feel sticky.”

“Alright.”

He stepped into the bathroom. Turned the water on. The steam started to rise immediately. When he returned, she was standing exactly where he left her.

Still in the dress. Still barefoot. Her hands limp at her sides.

“C’mere,” he said softly.

She did.

He pulled her in slowly.

Guided the silk down with careful fingers. The fabric slid off her shoulders, pooled at her waist, then fell to the floor in one elegant sigh.

She stepped out of it.

Now just in her underwear. Still quiet. Still soft.

He kissed her shoulder. Just once.

Then reached for the towel.

She followed him into the bathroom like she was moving through water. The steam curled around her ankles.

She shivered once. He noticed.

The water was warm now.

Gentle.

He let it run first. Down her back. Her spine. The delicate curve of her hip.

She didn’t speak. She just stood there.

He reached for the soft cloth the villa had left.

Soaked it. Added soap—vanilla-scented, already faintly familiar. And then—he bathed her.

Not rushed. Not sexual. Just intimate.

His hands moved slow, reverent, washing her shoulders, her arms, her back. He knelt down to scrub her calves, careful not to press too hard. His palms circled over her skin like she was something ancient he didn’t want to break.

When he reached her forearm, he froze.

Barely noticeable.

A flicker of ink.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

There, just inside her left elbow—so faint he almost missed it—was a tiny tattoo.

A letter.

T.

Just a small, quiet T.

Harry’s throat tightened.

But he didn’t ask.

He just finished washing her arm with the same gentle touch, eyes moving on, heart slightly heavier than before.

She didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did.

But she didn’t say anything either.

Once she was clean, he wrapped her in a towel. Pressed a kiss to her temple.

Carried her out of the steam like she weighed nothing.

He dried her carefully, patting down her legs, her collarbone, her stomach. He found a fresh shirt in the drawer—his, oversized, white, worn soft at the edges. He slipped it over her head since it was already buttoned.

Her hair was still damp.

He knelt to towel it gently, fingers combing through the strands until they no longer dripped.

She watched him do it.

Eyes half-closed.

“You’re very good at this,” she murmured.

“Good at what?”

“Loving me.”

Harry didn’t speak.

Just brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

And kissed her—soft, long, like a whisper.

He helped her into bed. Propped the pillows. Tucked the blankets around her like she was something precious.

Then brought over the glass of water and plate of crackers the staff had delivered while they bathed.

She nibbled one. Took a sip.

Then collapsed back into the pillows.

He undressed quickly—just his shirt and slacks. Left on his briefs. Climbed in beside her.

She shifted automatically. Turned. Pressed her body into his side.

Her leg hooked over his. Her arm wrapped across his chest. Her breath slowed.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For coming to find me.”

He kissed her forehead. “Always.”

He didn't bring up the tattoo. Not yet.

They didn’t talk about tomorrow or what's to come. Not yet. 

They didn’t talk about anything. They just breathed.

And slept.

And healed.

And in the morning—Italy would still be there.

So would peaches. And pasta. And a dinner table strung with lights.

But for now—

It was just them.

In a room that smelled like lemons and warm stone.

Wrapped in each other.

Wrapped in the kind of silence that finally felt safe.

Morning came like it was trying not to wake them.

The room was amber with early light, seeping through the curtains in soft, sleepy stripes. Somewhere outside, birds were chirping. A breeze moved through the barely cracked balcony door, brushing the linen curtains like a lullaby. The whole villa felt hushed, like it knew.

It was 8:02.

Harry was already awake.

He laid still beside her for a while, eyes open, body warm under the weight of her leg still tangled around his. Her breath hitched faintly as she dreamed. The collar of his shirt—still on her, buttons halfway undone—had slipped off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of skin he’d kissed hours earlier. One arm was splayed above her head on the pillow, the other tucked beneath his own.

She looked like a painting.

And for a moment, Harry just watched.

Tried to memorize her like this. Sleepy. Safe. Still here.

But work waited.

So he moved carefully, untangling his limbs from hers like she was glass. She stirred only once, face nuzzling deeper into the pillow, hand curling slightly into the sheets like she could sense his absence and wanted to hold on to something.

He kissed the top of her head.

Then slipped into the bathroom.

The water was cold at first. Harry didn’t mind.

He turned it hotter as he moved, running his hands over his face, under his jaw, through his hair. The steam clung to the mirror and his skin alike, fogging everything. He leaned both hands on the tile at one point and let the water pound against his neck.

It cleared his head, but not enough. He couldn’t stop thinking about the night before.

About her walking barefoot into a foreign town because he’d shut down when she needed him most.

About the way her voice cracked when she said you let me walk away.

About the tiny tattoo on her arm—T, barely there. So small you’d miss it unless you were right next to her. Unless you were bathing her.

And now?

Now she was asleep in his bed like none of that had happened.

Like she trusted him again.

Like he hadn’t ruined everything and somehow still got to keep her.

It was a kind of grace he didn’t think he’d earned.

He stepped out of the shower twenty minutes later, water dripping down his chest, towel slung low on his hips. His hair curled in wet waves. He padded barefoot into the bedroom and dressed quickly—black slacks, a crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, two buttons undone. Watch on. Shoes polished. Silver chain on.

She still hadn’t moved.

He sat beside her on the bed. Bent low. Ran his finger gently up and down her cheek.

Her face twitched slightly. Eyelashes fluttered.

"Shh," he whispered, brushing her hair back from her temple. "Don’t wake up yet.”

She half-opened her eyes—barely.

He smiled, close to her ear now. “Sleep. I’ll be gone a few hours. Stay in bed. Don’t go anywhere.”

She made a sound in her throat—something like a hum of protest.

Harry chuckled under his breath, then pressed his lips to her temple.

“I’ll bring you something sweet,” he whispered.

She nodded without opening her eyes. He waited just a second longer—then left.

The door clicked shut. And the room was quiet again.

She woke twenty minutes later.

The sheets were tangled around her legs, the pillow smelled like him, and her entire body ached in that slow, heady way that meant she’d actually rested. She blinked against the sunlight and rolled onto her back, groaning faintly.

It was too quiet.

Harry was gone.

She reached for her phone. Then realized it was across the room—battery still dead. She decided to leave it there.

Instead, she pushed back the blankets and padded barefoot into the bathroom. The tile was warm from the sun. She found a silver bowl on the counter, filled it with cold water, and dipped her hands in. The chill snapped her out of the morning haze. She dabbed her face, then dragged wet fingers across the back of her neck.

Afterward, she dressed slowly.

A soft cotton tank top, half-tucked. Loose trousers that hit her ankle. A thin cardigan she’d almost left in New York. Her hair went up in a loose bun with a clip she’d stolen from Maya’s drawer months ago.

Still barefoot, she padded back into the room and scribbled a quick note on villa's stationery—

Back soon. Don’t panic.

Then she plugged her phone—leaving it charging on the nightstand.

The villa was already humming by the time she stepped into the hallway.

She passed a few staff members carrying trays and linens, all of whom startled slightly when they saw her. Gave tight nods. Quick, deferential greetings.

One man even bumped into a flower vase as he tried to walk and bow his head at the same time.

It was weird. And sort of funny.

Apparently, being Harry Castillo’s girlfriend meant even your morning stroll inspired a mild wave of panic.

She rounded a corner—and there she was.

Francesca. From dinner.

Slender, sharp-eyed, hair pulled behind her ears, long dress with thin straps and a vintage scarf tossed over her shoulders like armor. She held a book in one hand and an espresso in the other, leaning casually against a column in the sun.

“Francesca, hi” she says.

Francesca looked up. Grinned.

“Well, well. She rises.”

She laughed. “Didn’t expect to see you up.”

“I didn’t go to bed.”

“Oh?”

Francesca held up the book. The Secret History. Pages dog-eared, spine cracked, annotated within an inch of its life.

“Started rereading at midnight. Got to the murder again by sunrise. Can’t stop now.”

They fell into step together without speaking.

Walked through the garden, past the edge of the pool, toward the gravel path that led down into the town.

Francesca sipped her espresso.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“A little.”

“There’s a place.”

“A place?”

Francesca smiled. “Where they don’t care if you’re underdressed. They don’t care who your boyfriend is. They only care if you eat.”

That was enough.

She followed her down the winding path.

The town appeared slowly—first rooftops, then chimneys, then the low hum of traffic and laughter. Morning energy pulsed beneath it all. A few locals bustled through the square. Bread vendors called out from carts. Children ran with gelato already staining their fingers.

Francesca led her down a narrow side street.

Past closed shutters and old stone fountains.

They turned into a tiny café with vines crawling up the side of the building. There was no menu. No sign. Just four tables, all mismatched, and the smell of garlic already floating from the back.

An old woman came out with two mismatched mugs and a basket of bread.

Francesca handed her the book.

The woman took it without a word.

“They trade novels,” Francesca explained. “She hates Kindles.”

They sat.

No one stared at them. No one whispered. No one cared.

It was perfect.

They talked. Not about Harry. Not about the dinner.

They talked about books. About unreliable narrators. About Marguerite Duras and poetry that tasted like metal. About Sylvia Plath’s letters and whether or not Donna Tartt would ever write another book.

They lingered. Coffee turned to tomato toast. Toast turned to pastries. Pastries turned into wine even though it wasn’t even ten yet.

And at one point, Francesca reached into her bag and pulled out a little polaroid camera.

“Smile,” she said.

She blinked. “Why?”

“Because you are gorgeous. And that’s worth capturing.”

The camera clicked. She didn’t smile. But her eyes were soft. And that was enough. For now.

Meanwhile across town—

In the velvet backroom of one of the most exclusive restaurants in Florence, the air was thick with espresso, cigarette smoke, and the kind of tension that clung to cufflinks. The room was dim and windowless, paneled in dark wood, framed by heavy crimson curtains, and lit by a single crystal chandelier that hung too low and sparkled like a threat.

Harry sat at the head of the table.

He wasn’t speaking.

He didn’t need to. People rarely spoke first when he was in the room.

Lorenzo was swirling his double espresso like it was a Negroni. His Rolex caught the light every time he flicked his wrist.

Paolo was leaning far too close to the waitress, his fingers brushing her tray every time she approached, voice oily with charm as he mispronounced grazie on purpose to make her laugh.

She didn’t.

Luca looked like he wanted to disappear.

And Danny? Danny was sweating.

Not visibly—yet. But his collar was too stiff, his shoulders too rigid, his jaw too tight. He kept sipping water like it might help, but the glass never emptied, and he hadn’t made eye contact with Harry since they sat down.

Harry noticed. Of course he did.

He noticed everything.

He sat still in his chair, one ankle resting across his knee, a finger tapping once every few seconds on the armrest. His blazer hung off the back of his chair. His shirt was crisp, unbuttoned at the throat, and the light caught the sliver of silver chain just below his collarbone. His hair was damp from the morning shower. He looked composed.

But his jaw hadn’t unclenched since Giuliana walked in.

She was seated across from him, all sharp cheekbones and smooth efficiency, her tablet glowing on the linen tablecloth. Everything about her was glassy, manicured, calculated.

"These are the revisions," she said flatly, turning the tablet to Harry. “Standard margin adjustments. Expanded options for the additional properties. And a clause we’d like to include about exclusivity with vendors.”

Harry barely glanced at the screen.

“Exclusivity how?”

Giuliana smiled thinly. “You can read the fine print later.”

“I'll read it now.”

Across the table, Paolo stifled a laugh and took a drag from his cigarette.

Giuliana didn’t flinch. “Of course.”

Harry leaned forward, scanned the clause once, then again. His jaw moved slightly. “No.”

“No?” Giuliana echoed, arching a brow.

“You want control over my vendor list without adjusting the revenue share?”

“That’s the proposal.”

“Then it’s a dead one.”

Silence.

Even Paolo shut up.

Luca exhaled quietly, grateful for the pause in verbal combat. He’d taken to chewing the inside of his cheek and staring at the antique mirror behind Giuliana like it might teleport him home.

Giuliana didn’t argue. Not yet.

She just tapped a new page on her tablet. “Then we can revert. But don’t be surprised if the board follows up with a counter.”

“They can send what they like,” Harry said, voice even. “Doesn’t mean I’ll sign it.”

He sat back. Calm. Steady.

But his eyes flicked—just once—to Danny.

Still quiet. Still tense. Still refusing to look up from his notepad.

Harry’s gaze lingered a little too long.

Danny cleared his throat. “We can loop back on the exclusivity clause during the second round of review. After—uh—after the revisions from finance are incorporated.”

Giuliana gave a tight nod. “Fine.”

Paolo made a noise in his throat, leaned back in his chair, and said to the waitress as she returned, “Due moretti, bella, grazie. Unless you’d rather share one with me.”

The woman didn’t respond.

Harry’s head turned.

Slowly. One look. That was all it took.

Paolo shut up again.

The waitress placed the espresso in front of Harry. Her eyes darted between him and Danny, then back to the door, then away entirely.

Danny swallowed.

His phone buzzed on the table.

Once. Then again.

He flipped it over without checking it.

But Harry saw the name flash across the screen the first time.

Allegra / NYT.

He filed it away.

Another tap of his finger on the armrest.

The same rhythm. The same restraint.

Giuliana was talking again—something about property assessments, something about taxes and city permit negotiations—but Harry wasn’t listening.

Because Danny hadn’t stopped shaking his leg under the table for the past twenty minutes.

And that wasn’t just nerves about the deal.

That was something else.

Something worse. Something guilty.

And Harry could feel it—like a shift in temperature, like a drop of blood in a glass of water. Barely visible. But spreading.

Danny had barely slept.

He’d spent the entire night texting anyone he could think of, pulling strings, calling in favors that weren’t his to call. He’d offered to Venmo three separate interns eight hundred dollars each just to “accidentally” delete Carrie Roth’s file folder.

It hadn’t worked.

One of them—Allegra—called him at 6:23 in the morning, voice full of regret.

“She still has the photo. But she’s not allowed to publish it yet. The girl—Harry’s—there’s nothing on her. It’s weird. No last name. No socials. Nothing. She’s a fucking ghost.”

Danny had rubbed a hand down his face, staring at the window.

“And Lucy?” he asked, already bracing for it.

Allegra hesitated.

“…Yeah. She gave a quote.”

Danny closed his eyes.

Fucking Lucy.

Of course she had.

"How bad is it?"

“Not bad-bad. But not good. Vague. Something like, ‘I hope he’s happy. We all move on eventually.’ But it’s laced.”

“Laced?”

Allegra sighed. “She sounds like she’s holding a knife behind her back and smiling for the camera.”

Danny had spent the rest of the morning doing damage control.

He knew how Harry would react.

Or worse—how he wouldn’t.

The silence was always worse. The version of Harry that went still. That closed off. The version that pushed the good things away.

And Danny…Danny had never seen Harry like this with anyone. Not even Lucy. Not even close. There was something softer now. Something better. Harry laughed more. He joked. He sat closer. He smiled like someone who actually felt peace for once.

And if some fucking quote from his ice queen ex managed to ruin that?

Danny would never forgive himself.

So he sat. In the backroom. In the middle of a million-dollar meeting. And tried to pretend he wasn’t unraveling.

Harry knew.

He didn’t know what Danny was hiding yet, but he knew it wasn't good.

He watched his friend fidget with a sugar packet. Watched his gaze drift anywhere but Harry’s face. And he did what he always did when people lied to him.

He waited.

Let them hang themselves with silence.

Let the lie grow heavy.

Let the guilt set in.

Then he’d strike. Not yet. Not today. But soon.

He sipped his espresso.

Looked straight at Danny. And said nothing.

Danny didn’t meet his eyes. Which told Harry everything.

The meeting didn’t end so much as dissolve.

Giuliana closed her tablet with a firm snap, gave Harry a businesslike nod that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and rose from the table without another word. Her assistants followed in silence.

Lorenzo didn't bother saying goodbye.

He just huffed, muttering something to Paolo in rapid Italian, and disappeared behind a cloud of aftershave and espresso.

Paolo lingered, naturally.

He adjusted his collar like someone waiting for a round of applause, then turned to Harry as if they'd just finished a friendly brunch rather than a laced negotiation.

“Enjoy the rest of your little vacation,” he said with a crooked smile. “And tell your girlfriend to try the gelato place on the corner of Via Luce. It’s almost as sweet as she is.”

Harry didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

Just said, “Walk away.”

Paolo did. Chuckling to himself, the kind of laugh people used to cover fear.

Then it was just the three of them—Harry, Luca, and Danny—in the quiet echo of the emptied room.

Luca stood awkwardly by the far wall, holding his phone in one hand, glancing towards the door. He looked like a schoolboy waiting to be dismissed, trying to figure out whether he’d be expected to walk home or if someone was going to make him stay behind for detention.

Harry noticed him hovering.

“You waiting on a ride?” he asked.

Luca looked up, startled. “Ah, yeah. I called for a car but it’s taking forever. No signal in here.”

“I’ll take you back,” Harry offered simply. “Come with us.”

Danny perked up immediately. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’ll just get dropped at the villa first. I’ve got—uh—work to do.”

Harry turned to him slowly. “Work.”

“Yeah,” Danny said quickly, already pulling out his phone. “Emails. Calls. Logistics. Just, you know, stuff. Need to get ahead of it.”

Harry arched a brow but didn’t press.

Not yet.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They stepped outside into the Florentine afternoon—the kind of golden, honey-warm light that made everything look like a painting. The car, black and sleek, was already waiting, engine humming low and loyal.

The driver opened the door.

Danny climbed in first, barely offering a word before burying himself in his phone. His thumbs moved at an unholy pace, scrolling, tapping, texting, double-checking some digital disaster Harry was clearly not yet privy to.

Luca slid in next, offering a polite grazie to the driver, and then Harry joined, stretching out as the car pulled away from the curb.

For a while, the only sound was tires against cobblestone and the soft clicks of Danny’s frantic typing.

Then Luca’s phone buzzed.

He looked down, smiled, and turned slightly toward Harry.

“Francesca says she’s with your girlfriend,” he said. “They found some little café. She said to tell you not to worry—they’re safe, they’re having croissants, and we are both invited if you’re done playing mafia.”

Harry’s mouth twitched.

“Tell her I’m on my way.”

Luca sent the message, then tucked his phone away. He seemed a little lighter now—shoulders relaxed, voice warmer. The post-meeting haze had faded from his features.

Harry glanced at him sideways. “Francesca yours?”

Luca blinked, then smiled, a little sheepish. “Yeah. My wife. We got married last year.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“You’re young.”

Really ironic of him to say when he's fucking involved with a girl who's 26. 

“I’m twenty-nine.”

“Still.”

“I know.” Luca chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Everyone told us we were crazy. But she’s… Francesca. She could’ve ruined me if she wanted to, and I would’ve said thank you.”

Harry smirked faintly at that. “Sounds about right.”

“She’s opening a boutique,” Luca added. “In our town outside London. Small, but she’s excited. She’s good at what she does. Always has been. Fashion, interior work. Makes everything feel expensive even when it’s not. I think she wants to build something that’s hers.”

Harry nodded, thoughtful.

“Smart woman.”

“The smartest,” Luca agreed. “She helped me rebuild after the last deal I tanked. Stuck around when I had nothing. The ring I gave her was bought with borrowed money and blind faith.”

“She sounds like someone worth keeping.”

“She is.” Luca glanced out the window. “Not everyone’s that lucky, you know? Finding someone who lets you be soft without thinking less of you for it.”

Harry didn’t respond.

Just looked out the opposite window.

Thought of her curled in bed this morning, the soft sound she made when he ran a finger down her cheek. The way she whispered his name in her sleep. How her breath had hitched when he wrapped his coat around her shoulders last night like it was the only thing he could offer.

The car slowed.

They were near the villa now, winding through the familiar lined paths. The sun cut through the trees in slats of white gold, casting shadows like ribbons across the windshield.

Danny didn’t look up from his phone.

“Here’s good,” he muttered, already gathering his things.

The driver stopped.

Harry didn’t say a word.

Just watched as Danny climbed out like the car was on fire, muttering something about emails and pressing timelines, phone already back to his ear.

He walked toward the villa at a pace that could only be described as erratic.

Harry watched him go.

Luca then gives the driver the cafe's address. The driver nods, starting the car back up.

He looked sideways at Harry. “You think he’s okay?”

Harry didn’t answer.

Instead, he rolled down the window.

Let the wind rush in.

Let the city open around him, brick by golden brick.

And somewhere, in a quiet café across town, she was laughing over croissants and gesturing with her hands, probably making Francesca snort her coffee and wave for more napkins.

He could feel it.

Like gravity.

And for the first time in hours, the tightness in his chest began to loosen.

He was on his way back to her.

The car wound through the hills, the stone and roads softening into something warmer as they dipped toward town. Golden light pooled on terracotta roofs, and the scent of warm bread and basil drifted through the open windows.

Harry barely noticed. His fingers drummed silently on the armrest, but it wasn’t impatience. It was gravity. Like some part of him already knew where she was. Like some thread between them had pulled taut and was pulling him home.

Francesca spotted the car first. She waved lazily from the doorway of the cafe, espresso in one hand, sunglasses on, expression unreadable. Her other hand was tangled with his girl’s, who stood beside her in soft linen trousers and a tank top, cheeks flushed from wine or sunlight or maybe just relief.

Harry stepped out of the car without waiting for the driver to open the door.

She looked up.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t need to.

She crossed the stone patio in three quick steps and wrapped her arms around his waist. Not urgently. Just naturally. Like that was where they belonged.

Harry exhaled into her hair.

Francesca raised her brow. “We’re going to lunch.”

Luca stepped out behind Harry and nodded. “I told you they’d be ready.”

The restaurant wasn’t far—tucked into a shaded side street, the kind of place only locals knew about, with uneven cobblestones and no name on the door. The tables were mismatched wood, the plates chipped, the wine poured without asking.

They sat under vines.

Harry kept his arm draped along the back of her chair, his fingers occasionally brushing her shoulder. She leaned into it like instinct. Her hand drifted to his thigh more than once, casual, familiar. The air was warm but not hot. They ordered bread, fruit, and some pasta. 

They got wine drunk slowly.

Not the loud kind. The soft, sleepy kind.

The kind where she bit her lip to keep from smiling every time he looked at her. The kind where Harry started to say something about her hair, got halfway through, and just shook his head because the words wouldn’t do it justice.

Francesca snapped a photo of them with her old film camera.

They didn’t even notice at first.

She was resting her chin on Harry’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed. He was whispering something into her ear that made her laugh, soft and slow. The kind of laugh that lives in your chest. Francesca snapped again.

“You look like you’ve been in love for a hundred years,” Francesca said.

Harry blinked. “Haven’t I?”

She just swats him.

The wine kept coming. The food kept coming. She fed him a slice of peach soaked in something syrupy and giggled when the juice dripped onto his shirt. He didn’t care. He just licked it off her thumb like it was a reflex.

At one point, he said her name in that voice—the low, quiet one he used when the world fell away and there was only her.

She leaned in.

He kissed her under the vines. Soft. Long.

Not showy. Not loud. Just... there.

She pulled back when she realized she was still in public. 

Harry smirked. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

He stood. Took her hand.

“Just come.”

She didn’t ask again.

They slipped out the back of the restaurant, past the kitchen doors, into a narrow alley framed and hidden by stone walls and jasmine vines. The air was thick and cool, and the quiet wrapped around them like smoke—intimate and heavy with the weight of what was about to happen.

Harry backed her against the wall with a hand on her waist, his body pressing flush to hers.

His eyes were dark, hungry.

“You’re drunk,” she whispered, grinning.

“A little,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along her jaw. “But not on the wine.”

Her breath caught.

He kissed her again—slow, consuming. His hand slipped beneath her tank top, palm hot against her bare skin, gliding up to cup her breast. He loved when she didn't wear a fucking bra.

She gasped softly, arching into his touch.

“Here?” she breathed, half-laughing.

“No one’s coming,” he said. “But you are.”

Before she could respond, he dropped to his knees.

Right there, in the middle of that sun-drenched alley, Harry shoved her loose linen trousers down, dragging her panties with them. She stepped out, trembling slightly, and braced herself against the rough stone wall.

He looked up at her with a wicked glint, then leaned in.

He didn’t kiss her like she was fragile. He devoured her like a man starved—tongue hot and wet, lips greedy, fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still. The first stroke of his tongue made her moan, the second had her thighs clenching around his head.

“Fuck, Harry—”

He groaned in response, mouth never leaving her. He licked her like he meant it, filthy and relentless, nose buried in her pussy, tongue lapping every drop, every twitch, every whimper. He moaned into her like she was his favorite meal, like the taste of her was addictive.

He wrapped his arms around her thighs, locking her in place as he flicked his tongue over her clit again and again until she was gasping, squirming, one hand gripping his hair like she needed to anchor herself to the world.

He sucked her clit hard, then teased it with the tip of his tongue, slow and obscene.

When he slid two fingers inside her—deep, curling—she nearly collapsed.

“Fuck—fuck—” she choked out, her voice high, wrecked.

Her orgasm hit fast, sudden and overwhelming. Her knees buckled. She cried out, hand smacking the wall behind her as pleasure tore through her, her body shaking.

But Harry didn’t stop.

He kept licking, kept fucking her with his fingers, chasing every aftershock, every tremor, until she was sobbing his name and clawing at his shoulders, too sensitive, too overwhelmed, dripping onto his tongue.

He only pulled back when she pushed at his head, breathless and dazed.

His mouth was soaked. His lips swollen. His eyes wild.

He rested his forehead against her stomach, breathing hard, his hands still splayed on her thighs like he never wanted to let go.

She laughed breathlessly. “You’re fucking insane.”

He kissed the inside of her hip, slow and reverent. Then stood. His mustache was glistening with her, and he didn’t bother wiping it off.

“You taste like wine and fucking salvation,” he whispered, voice rough.

She buried her face in his shoulder, dizzy.

They fixed her clothes, hands brushing, bodies flushed with heat. Her thighs were still trembling.

He laced their fingers together as they walked back, like he hadn’t just ruined her in a sunlit alley with nothing but his mouth.

And she let him.

Like nothing happened.

And when Francesca saw them, she just raised a brow and handed her another glass of wine.

Meanwhile, back at the villa—

Danny had turned his suite into a digital warzone.

Two laptops. One iPad. Three chargers. Twelve tabs open. Phone on speaker.

“Allegra,” he said, pacing. “Tell me you have good news.”

The voice on the other end crackled slightly. “Define good.”

“She hasn’t sent it yet?”

“Not yet.”

“But she will.”

Allegra exhaled. “It’s Carrie Roth. Of course she will. She’s sitting on it like a fucking vulture. Waiting until it hurts the most.”

Danny scrubbed a hand over his face.

On his laptop, the image was still frozen. The photo Carrie took. From the lobby. The one Harry made her delete. So he thought.

Carrie hadn’t published it yet. But she would. She always did.

And when she did? It wouldn’t just go viral.

It would scare her off.

This girl Harry was in love with—really in love with—she wasn’t built for this.

Not yet. Not that kind of spotlight.

Not the New York fucking Times with a headline about her being a mystery. About who she was, what she wore, why she mattered.

It would ruin everything.

Danny knew it.

Harry wouldn’t survive it if she left. Not after Lucy.

Not after that silence, that grief, that hardening it took to survive someone walking away.

And this girl?

She was different. She made him soft. She made him happy.

Danny had never seen Harry like that. Not once.

So he’d do anything to protect it.

Even if it meant calling Carrie himself.

Even if it meant trying to spin it, bribe her, threaten her, beg.

“Allegra,” he said, heart pounding. “Text her. Now. Ask for a meeting. Say it’s urgent.”

“What do I tell her it’s about?”

Danny stared at the photo.

He swallowed.

“Tell her it’s about blood in the water.”

Back in town, Harry reached for her hand beneath the lunch table.

She let him.

And when he leaned in, lips grazing her ear, and whispered, "I’m never letting you walk away again," she believed him.

Because this time, he meant it.

[lunebulous]

Sylus - Seeing you as a Bride

C.w: Fluff, honey-dripping fluff. Luke and Kieran being Luke and Kieran. Sylus being a loverboy like he is. Reader is refered to as she/her. It's not a wedding. A.N: This took so long to write but i'm very satisfied with the plot, although I wish I could have written it better. I hope you enjoy. Truly! Word count: 4k. Dividers by @cafekitsune

“White..?” Sylus cocks a brow, chuckling a little. “Why white, sweetie?” He asks while holding your arm on his, walking on the well illuminated streets of Linkon, as you watch your own feet on the still wet sidewalk. “Because it brings good luck! And peace!” You smile at him. “I always wore white for New Year’s Eve.” 

“And did it once bring you good luck? Peace?” He looks at the trees, still a little reluctant on walking you home; but since you asked him so nicely using your dangerous puppy eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He wished you’d sleep at his place, but he wasn’t going to force you. Never. “Good luck..” You look at him, mumbling more to yourself than to answer him. Your eyes wander to his defined jaw, his hair that is so soft to your touch, and his flushed cheeks that he never hesitated leaning on your hands when you caressed him with your whole heart. He looks back at you, sensing your gaze burning on the side of his face, and he’s surprised by how much love he sees in your eyes. You’re adoring him right now, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. So he just. Readjusts your scarf; in a way to redirect his gaze away from your sweet face. “I could say that..”  you continue, nuzzling your nose on his shoulder as you smile, feeling contentment on your chest sprawling to your whole body.

He scoffs playfully, pretending to not feel so bubbly because of so little, but you catch his little smirk. He couldn’t help it. You melt him completely with a bat of your eyelashes. He just looks away a little, as he would be embarrassed if you caught him blushing like a little girl.

“Sy?” He looks at you, coming back to earth after quickly wondering if his heart had ever felt this way before. “Yes?” you gaze at his softened eyes. 

“You didn’t answer me… About wearing white..” Now you use your other hand to tightly hug his arm. 

“Of course. Guess I’ll change into something lighter for once.” He glances at your both hands on his bicep. “Is it easier for you to spot me if I'm wearing white, kitten?” “Spot you?” you look up at him.

“The N109-Zone is dark. And since you’re holding onto me with such claws, I figured you are just afraid of losing me out of sight.” “Ah, shut up a little. You’re too full of yourself.” “I’m not the one clinging to you like you’ll run away if I don't.” He chuckles amusingly. Sylus will never admit he loves when you mindlessly pull him closer - and since you both got into a more stable kind of relationship, it has been happening more frequently. You get your arms out of his, distancing yourself and walking by his side with a weird distance between you two.

“It 's okay! Won’t do it anymore then!” You pout a little, playing angry. “Oh no!” He coos. “No one to hold me back. Guess I will run away then…” And as soon as you roll your eyes at his terrible acting skills, his entire figure disappears in a red mist, swirling in the air before dissolving into the cold night’s breeze.

You stop in your tracks, eyes widened and suddenly aware that you’re alone, at night, still considerably far away from home. You get a hold onto your scarf, discreetly looking to the sides so as to not boost his ego too much - you knew he was still around somewhere, he'd never leave you unnatended - but the feeling of being watched on a completely silent street got your heart beating faster.

“Sy..?” your voice coming out as a whisper; and you feel energy shifting behind your back. You turn abruptly, and there he is, with that smug look upon his annoying face, offering his arm for you to hold onto again.

“What happened, little dove?” he holds back a laugh as you hook your arm on his once more. “I hate you.” “You love me, sweetheart.” he takes the side of your face on his other hand, bringing you closer before landing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

“She has boss wrapped around her finger...” Luke quietly chuckles, elbowing Kieran - equally excited - as they both watch Sylus talking on his phone, ordering white uniforms for the twins. There’s a glare on his eyes, and both twins instantly shut up.

“No need for the white version of the masks. They won’t wear any.” Sylus turns his back to the twins, putting them in their place.  “But boss! We can’t be seen-” Kieran interrupts, stepping forward “She’ll see us- and she’ll know that-” Sylus suddenly shows his phone, a black screen. He turned off the call before teasing them. “Haaaaaa!” Luke sighs, and then laughs as if he wasn’t desperate a second earlier. “You got us.” Kieran chuckles, pretending to faint on his brother’s shoulder. Sylus faintly smirks at the scene, putting the phone away as he strides towards the hallway, now focused on what he should wear for you. White, as you asked.

Alone at the big office, the twins stare at each other. “But why white?” “I don’t know.” Luke looks at the mansion’s entrance through the window. “Maybe there’s a reason, or maybe she just really likes that color.” “She wouldn’t make us wear it too if she just really liked the color. Do you think they’re planning something?” Kieran thinks fast, as expected of Onichynus' leader's henchmen. 

“Planning something? Like what? A wedding?” Luke starts to laugh, but stops as he looks at Kieran, who stopped too. “A wedding?” Kieran repeats. “Didn’t they.. just recently admitted they were into each other?” Luke stares at his twin, confused.

“Yeah. And boss wouldn’t propose like that. No.” Kieran states. “Yeah, no, he wouldn’t. I bet he’d go all out too.” They start giggling like teenage girls, teasing each other about it for a good minute.

“But she’ll wear white then. Right?” Kieran smirks mischievously. “U-huh.” Luke smirks too, sensing what his twin is thinking about. 

“Let’s. Do a little surprise. If she wears a dress. We could play a wedding march as she comes in.” Luke suggests. “We could even get him to stand at the end of the hallway.” “Who would play the wedding march, dumbass?” Kieran slaps Luke in the shoulder. “He is the one who knows how to play it!” 

“What is your suggestion then?! A bouquet? He already gets her flowers all the time!” Luke silently screams at his twin. Kieran gets silent for some time, deep in thought. “Oh. Oh! Oooh! I know what! Oh, I know just what to do!” Kieran gets up, pacing around the room excitedly. “Come with me. We need to buy something. Fast.” 

You have the passcode. You also have your eyes, which if scanned, can open the door to his base. But you feel a little bit nervous for some reason, your heart almost getting out of your chest. It’s the first time you dressed up a little bit more to see Sylus - and you had your motives. It’s New Year’s Eve after all and you want to start it right, looking and feeling pretty. But at the same time, you’re nervous - you are not the type of girl to wear a dress often, and you’re having that kind of imposter feeling of not being a real dress-wearer, just faking it. You chuckle at your own thoughts, standing still and feeling a little embarrassed with yourself, as you just need to open the door and get in as you already did so many times before. But now it’s different. Sylus knows you like him and… He’ll see you dolled up.. and know it’s for him. And he’ll get so cocky about it too… God, just open the door. You hear a click, getting startled but playing it cool.

“You should have just-” Luke grins widely, you just know by the tone of his voice. His mask looks down at your outfit choice. “Opened the door.” Kieran appears from behind him. “Looking cute, Miss Hunter.” You look delicate, like you rarely do, in their eyes. He gestures for you to enter. “Thank you! You guys are looking great! I didn’t think you’d be wearing white too!” You get inside, looking at them from head to toe. Their uniforms are now white, still having red streaks and details occasionally. “It strangely suits you!” “Yeah, boss made us-” Kieran stomps at his feet “ We didn’t want to be left out.”

You let out a loud laugh. “He always finds a way, doesn’t he?” You start walking through the long and decorated hallway, admiring the fairy lights adorning the otherwise cold mansion. The twins follow you shortly after. “He does.” Kieran looks at Luke quickly. You don’t catch it. “Miss, there’s something else for you upstairs. We got you a gift because..” Luke chimes in. “ You are now getting closer to us and you’re always down for pranking boss and you’re even spending the nights with-” Kieran interrupts Luke. “What matters is that.. we thought it’d be nice to demonstrate that you’re always welcome.” They both sigh in unison, raising your suspicions. “Where’s Sylus?”  You ask, stopping at the foot of the stairs and looking around with a polite smile on your face. 

“He’s going to be there too.” Kieran starts going up, nodding with his head upwards for you to follow him. And you do, realizing they are unbelievably quiet. Entering the bedroom you usually stay when you’re spending the night with them, you notice some small changes. There’s even more fairy lights, the only source responsible for lighting up the whole room; On your bedside table, there’s a small and black velvet box, still closed. The curtains that are usually closed, are now open, inviting you to feel the chill night’s air on your skin. There’s a record player sitting on your dressing table, with a record already on it, playing a soft piano song in a low volume. Luke is in front of you, facing the window, and Kieran is closing the door behind him. “Wow. Why all that?” You get unexpectedly surprised at the twins’ ‘thoughtfulness’, smiling.

“All that? You didn’t see anything yet!” Luke turns around to look at you. “Give me your phone, please. For the full experience.” He extends a hand to you. “My phone..?” you look at him, already catching onto something. “Why?” You’re already used to their little jokes, so you learned to not simply trust them everytime. “You look good in a white dress, miss!” Kieran steps in, rescuing his brother with a change of plans. They wanted your phone so they could text Sylus to meet you here, but you were already too aware of their movements. “You know what’s missing?” Kieran steps closer to you as you turn around to face him.

As soon as you do, you feel a pair of hands on your head, hearing a click. There’s a light weight on your hair now, and as you spin to stare at Luke, you see it. He put a veil on you. “Luke!” you step forward to slap his chest - “What the hell!” You start feeling your neck and chest burning up, the light graze of the long veil brushing against the side of your arms, engulfing you more and more as you move. You try to look behind your back to see its full length, but end up just twirling around. You realize how well it goes with your dress, your breath quickening. “Aw, you even like it!” Kieran teases as he holds his own cell phone behind his back, calling Sylus. Both the twins chuckle amusingly at the faint pink hue on your cheeks. “I bet Boss will love seeing you like that.” Your eyes widen. “Don’t you fucking dare!” You glare at Kieran now, as you try to take the veil off with your hands, but you don’t quite understand what kind of attachment it has.

You breathe deeply, closing your eyes to focus on the texture of it in your hands, figuring it out. It doesn’t seem to be a clip-on veil, like you expected. It’s not a headband type either. Fuck, where did they-

“Look, there’s more!” Luke drags a part of your veil to the front, revealing that it is in fact, a blusher veil. You freeze for a second, before feeling your cheeks burn and your throat go dry. You’re feeling like a bullied kid in kindergarten.

You would take it off your face if not for the fact you were with both your hands occupied, almost figuring out how to take it off. You then catch Kieran nodding towards Luke, and Luke takes something from your bedside table. You realize there’s more to their little act and as you wonder what it could be, it dawns on you. Sylus. No way. 

You let go of the veil to grab one of them, but it’s too late.

The door opens, and there he is. As soon as he gets in, he stops in his tracks, letting the twins rush towards the hallway, almost running. He immediately understands what happened - he knows how the twins are - but. He can’t move fast enough, seeing you like this. He swallows.

His eyes run over your off-white sheath dress, one that’s tight on your upper body but flows freely from your waist down. It has off-the-shoulder sleeves that bring a subtle femininity and cuteness to it. You look adorably vulnerable with the surprised look on your face, making his heart flutter. The veil frames your naked shoulders like a painting, and your hair, styled in soft waves, cascades in front of your chest. He stands still, staring. You’re immediately overwhelmed by his reaction, watching him analyze each one of your features. His gaze wanders all over you, making your skin hot and breathing stall. Your hands are glued to your sides, into little fists. His expression slowly melts from surprise to adoration as he tries to regain a certain composure to face you. He inhales quickly, ready to sigh. He notices you’re almost crying from embarrassment and he doesn’t want to make it worse for you. What he fails to realize is that he is also wearing white. You’re also seeing him… as a groom. The only sound that can be heard is the soft music playing. You decide to say something.

“Sy..” your voice ends up sounding a bit more hurt than you intended, and you look away from him - guiding your hands to your head again, finally taking the veil off, sliding smoothly against your hair. His eyes widened in protest. “I’m so-” “Don’t.” He exhales heavily, stepping closer cautiously. “I didn’t memorize you well enough.” He looks at you with contracted brows. He closes the distance between you both, softly cupping your cheek and making you look at him. “Please, sweetie.” His other hand holds your arm, his thumb caressing you in an attempt to comfort you as he almost pleads with his eyes. “There’s only me here.” You’re still holding the veil to your side, feeling a lump in your throat. It’s all too much - Sylus in white, the veil, the music playing as he looks at you like this. You feel like you could implode, your hands trembling softly while your heart beats as fast as lightning.

“That 's.. I know it’s only you, that’s the problem…” You mumble. 

“If I can’t see you like this now, what can I do to earn that right, my love?” Love. He never called you that before.

He softly glides his hand from your upper arm to your elbow, searching for your gaze. Slowly descending, he takes the veil from your hand. You look at it, the thin material looking so fragile in his big hands. 

“It’s not that you can’t..-” 

“So can I?” He asks, now using both his hands to hold the white fabric. He asks, for the first time feeling unsure of your answer. He doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed anymore but - he needs to see it again. He needs to commit you to memory and you took that away from him, not letting him bask in your appearance for long enough. 

“May I?” He brings the veil closer to the crown of your head, looking at the comb-like attachment, full of improvised clip-ins. The twins really did predict you’d try to take it off. He waits for an answer before continuing, the veil hovering over your head.

You gaze at his feet, his white trousers, his white button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He’s wearing the watch you told him you loved. You finally reach his eyes, and you could never say no to the way they were almost-imperceptibly watering. You breathe in. “You may.” 

He smiles, a faint and singular dimple softly showing. You feel your knees getting weak at the sight. Since when did he-! You never even noticed he had one..! Or maybe he never smiled so widely for you to notice it. He places the veil on your hair, attaching it normally - not using the thousands of mechanisms the twins somehow installed on it to gain time. His hands work gently against your hair, making you get goosebumps. He notices, but chooses to not say a thing about it. He plants a kiss to your forehead, before slowly bringing the blusher veil to your face. He steps back just a little, to look at you fully. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “So beautiful.”

The veil on your face makes you feel brave enough to fully look at his eyes again. Through the white haze, you watch as he takes a hand to cover his mouth, quickly disguising it as if he’s adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Thank you, Sy..” you mutter. And your sweet voice is his last straw. With a step closer, he suddenly engulfs you in a hug, that slowly gets tighter. Your hands rest against his chest, taken by surprise at his abrupt movement. You feel his heartbeat, fast and thundering against your hand. He doesn’t let you go until you breathe in… and out. Relaxing with a stuttered sigh; a breath you didn’t know you were holding in - but he noticed. Now you were safe, in his arms. Like you were always meant to be.

You feel his right hand on your left shoulder create some distance, and with a movement of his fingers, the music gets just a little bit louder. He used his evol. He starts swaying side to side with you, his chin resting on your head.

“Sweetie.” His deep voice was laced with vulnerability. “It seems you were right.” He closes his eyes. Swaying... Left.. Right.. Left.. Right.. Slow..

“About what..?” You look up at him, freeing yourself just a little bit from his embrace. “Wearing white brought me luck.” 

You chuckle softly at his sweet words, but there’s raw sincerity in them, and hearing you laugh makes his heart twist. He loves you so much. Left.. Right.. Swaying.. Left.. Right..

Every fiber of his being would be incomplete without you, and he wants you to be sure of that. Of the lengths he’d go to see you happy, safe, fulfilled. He wishes he could be everything you need - the air you breathe. Since he can’t, he decides to take it away - if only for a fleeting moment. He stops swaying - and your heart skips a beat. You tilt your head to face him.

In a controlled but quick motion, he takes the veil back, uncovering you. Holding your face with both his hands, he breathes in, getting more desperate as the seconds go by, looking at your dilated pupils as if asking for permission. You nod. And his lips land on yours, a low hum on his throat as he tilts his head to kiss you. It starts gentle, his lips slightly sucking on yours as his fingers dive on your hair. You pull him closer by the waist, reciprocating as your back arches to taste him better. He starts licking your lips, wanting more of your taste. You let him in, a soft sigh being swallowed by him. Your hands gently squeeze his waist as you get breathless, and he pulls away - only to leave a handful of slow and intimate pecks against your cheek, the corner of your lips, your nose, your other cheek. His breathing is messy, but so is yours. He gazes at you for a moment, silently admiring your flushed state.

“There is no greater luck than having you.” He speaks quietly as he takes you in his embrace again. He doesn’t want to let you go so soon. Over your shoulder, he remembers Luke gave something to him on his way out. Discreetly, he reaches for his pocket, without raising your attention. He feels a black velvet box, and he opens it behind your back. There’s the ring he bought some time ago, for you. He chuckles. You raise your head at him, asking what happened. He uses his other hand to lay your head against his chest, saying it’s nothing. “Let me have you like this for a moment, sweetie.” A ring. The twins are unbelievable. You deserve more, so much more than this as your proposal. He expected them to know that by now. But you can’t find out, so he places it back in his pocket before hugging you again. Nuzzling against your neck, he tries to make you laugh - he knows how ticklish you are. His hands find their way to your ribs, softly tickling you. As you start giggling and pushing him away, he feels like he has his whole world right in front of him. But suddenly- A flashing light. You both startle, looking out the open window immediately. Luke has a camera on his hands, outside the railing of a balcony that faces your window, supporting his weight with one foot. And of course Kieran is the one holding him up by the waist, so his brother can take a picture of you two.  “Aww man!! I didn’t think you’d notice!” Luke screams, disappointed.

You feel heat creeping up your neck again. They’re beyond belief.

“I told you to not turn on the flash!!” Kieran scolds him.

“But it turned out so cute, look!” Luke shows something to Kieran.

“Oh.” Kieran stops for a second. “Hell yeah you’re totally right.” They both laugh.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose, and as the scene unfolds your embarrassment gives way to laughter. You try not to care so much about them - you’re getting used to it. “Let’s go already, Sy.” You fully get out of his embrace, still laughing.

He can’t help but laugh a little too, as Luke almost falls off the balcony after Kieran gets distracted. “Yes. After you, sweetheart.” He signals for you to go first, opening the door. And as he closes it behind him, his other hand caresses the little velvet box.

Soon. Just a little more.

[dollyswishingwell]

so idk how those things really work if I do it correctly by asking here or not but anyway.

I came up with this idea after Zayne kept turning his back (cuz I kept touching him 😔) at me when I was already having a bad day so I was thinking it would be something good to write.

Like the boys getting annoyed and turning their back on MC thinking she's going to get even more playful but she gets sad or something.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ One of those days

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ flufff

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You are a bit more sensitive today

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

- You’d been drawing on his face with eyeliner while he rested with his head on your lap. Humming songs while he was working on an art commission. Being your usual clingy self.

- He playfully pushed you away with a giggle,

“You’re sooo annoying, cutie. I’m turning my back on you now~”

- But when you stop touching him… he notices instantly.

- “Hello?” He turns. You’re curled up on the rug in silence, clutching one of his sweaters.

- Raf instantly crawls over and throws himself on top of you like a clingy cat.

“Waitwaitwait. I was teasing. You’re not actually sad, are you?”

- When you nod, he melts into your arms and hugs you tighter than ever.

- “You can be as annoying as you want. I live for your attention. Don’t stop. Not ever. I need it.”

- Pouts more than you do. “Now I’m sad too. You made us both sad.”

- You end up both curled under a blanket fort, drinking hot chocolate while Rafayel sings you songs with nonsense lyrics like

“I want my sunshine cupcake butter beer pearlie back~”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

- You’d been poking at his cheeks while he was reading a medical journal, hiding his reading glasses, humming obnoxiously sweet songs while trailing behind him, and he gave you his classic exasperated doctor sigh, turning his back and muttering,

“If I ignore her, she’ll escalate. She always does.”

- But instead of upping the mischief, you suddenly go quiet. Curl up on the fainting couch in his office and just… sigh. Not in your usual over-the-top “pamper me now!” way, but a tiny, deflated kind of sigh.

- It takes Zayne precisely 14 seconds to sense something’s off. He blinks, glances back… and sees you hugging a pillow, not even looking at him.

- Closes his journal immediately. “Sweetheart?” His voice is low, clinical instinct kicking in, assessing. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

- When you just mumble, “I thought you didn’t want to play with me anymore…”

- He’s at your side in two strides, kneeling in front of you, both hands gently cupping your cheeks.

“You little minx. You don’t get to say that when I want you around constantly.”

- Scoops you into his lap and murmurs cold-but-sweet reassurances like,

“You know I need my favorite emotional support wife. Stay close.”

- Then lets you play with his stethoscope while he cradles you.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

- You were poking at his serious expression during one of his silent meditations. Bouncing on the bed while he journaled. Stealing his glasses off his nose. He sighed and mumbled,

“…If I stop reacting, maybe she’ll tire herself out.”

- So he turned his back to you and continued writing. Expecting soft giggles.

- But then it’s quiet. Too quiet.

- He blinks. Looks over his shoulder. You’re tucked into the blankets, holding his pillow, eyes misty.

- Immediately closes his journal, blinks slowly, then shifts to curl behind you like a sleepy cat.

“You’re not being bratty. You’re sad. Why didn’t you tell me?”

- Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, over and over. Wraps both arms around you and nestles his forehead to yours.

- Whispers like a lullaby,

“I don’t mind when you’re annoying. I want it. I like it. Don’t stop being you, starlight.”

- Will let you cling to him the entire rest of the night, even if it means he forgets to sleep in the weird chair he originally planned to nap in.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 �� ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

- You were being particularly irritating during one of his meetings: interrupting, sneaking kisses, sitting in his lap sideways while he reviewed plans.

- He gave you a sharp smirk and swatted your thigh

“Enough, kitty. I’ll punish you later if you keep that up.”

- You pouted and wandered off, but instead of your usual coy comeback, you curled up alone on the couch and went quiet.

- Ten minutes later, when he’s finished, he notices the eerie silence.

“Where’s my spoiled wife?”

- When he finds you with your face buried in a designer throw pillow, not even looking up, he immediately drops the cocky act.

- Sits down beside you and nudges your foot with his. “Hey.”

- You sniffle: “I thought you were actually mad at me…”

- His smug expression melts. He pulls you onto his lap, strokes your back with slow, possessive hands.

“You’re my most favorite form of chaos. Don’t go quiet on me, baby. Makes me think something’s actually wrong.”

- Brings you a gift, jewelry, a rare perfume, your favorite treat, not to spoil you (though he is) but to coax your sparkle back.

“C’mon. Annoy me again. Please kitten,”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

- You were playing with his uniform collar while he typed up military reports. Braiding your hair with his epaulettes.

- “Pips,” he warns, tone clipped, “if I turn my back, will you behave?”

- He turns his chair. Expects the usual pout or attempt to climb in his lap.

- But instead… nothing.

- When he glances back and sees you curled up with your knees to your chest, eyes wide and hurt, he freezes.

- “Sweetheart.” He’s kneeling in front of you in seconds, pulling you against his chest.

“I wasn’t really upset. I just thought you were being your usual mischief.”

- Wraps you tightly in his arms, lips brushing your temple.

- “You know I like your bratty little antics. You keep me from becoming a machine.”

- Carries you to bed like a princess and stays with you the rest of the day, brushing your hair and whispering,

“You never need to quiet yourself around me. You’re my light.”

- Will lecture anyone who dares say you’re annoying again. Only he gets to be exasperated, lovingly.

[zeroseuniverse]

Locked Out

Word Count:815 Summary:"Me crashing here all the time." she shifted, pulling her knees up. "You never say no." Pairing: Jaemin X Fem reader

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The first time it happened, Jaemin thought it was a joke.

The knock came late—too late for casual visitors but not late enough for emergencies. He had half a mind to ignore it, curled up under his blankets with his laptop propped on his knees, an unfinished drama episode playing at low volume.

But then the knock came again, more insistent. With a sigh, he shoved his laptop aside and swung his legs off the bed, padding toward the door.

When he cracked it open, he found her standing there, arms wrapped around herself, bouncing on her heels like the hallway tiles were made of ice.

"Hey, neighbor," she chirped, way too chipper for someone standing in a dimly lit corridor past midnight. "So, funny thing—"

Jaemin blinked slowly, already exhausted. "You're locked out."

"Again." she sighed dramatically, rocking back on her heels. "My door jammed, and my landlord said he can’t send anyone until morning. So…" she trailed off, offering him an awkward grin. "Can I crash here?"

Jaemin stared at her, then down the hallway as if hoping a better solution would magically appear. But all he saw was the flickering light above her door, the one she always complained about.

With another sigh, he stepped aside. "Shoes off at the door. Don’t touch my stuff."

She beamed. "You’re the best, Jaemin!"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, already regretting it.

The second time, Jaemin opened the door before she even knocked.

"Come in," he said flatly, shuffling back inside.

She blinked. "Wait, how did you—"

"You have a pattern." He flopped onto the couch, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest. "If you pause outside my door for three seconds and sigh twice, it means you're locked out. If you curse under your breath, it means you forgot something inside."

Her jaw dropped. "You listen for that?"

Jaemin didn’t even look at her. "Your voice carries."

She huffed but stepped inside anyway, toeing off her shoes. His apartment was tidy, minimalistic—black and gray furniture, a single potted plant struggling for survival, and the faint scent of fabric softener clinging to the air.

She plopped onto the couch. "I think this means we’re officially friends now."

Jaemin scoffed. "No, it means I’m officially your unpaid locksmith."

"Mm. I like my version better."

By the fourth time, he stopped pretending to be annoyed.

They had both fallen into a routine. Jaemin would open the door, mumble a sarcastic comment, and she'd pretend she wasn't imposing. Sometimes, she brought snacks as a peace offering. Other times, he threw a blanket at her before disappearing into his room, muttering something about how she should just make a spare key already.

But tonight was different.

She sat on the couch with him, a half-eaten bag of chips between them, the remnants of some random movie playing in the background. Neither of them were really watching.

"Do you really not mind?" she asked suddenly.

Jaemin glanced at her, mid-chew. "What?"

"Me crashing here all the time." she shifted, pulling her knees up. "You never say no."

He swallowed, looking back at the screen. "You’re not that annoying."

She nudged his arm playfully. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Jaemin smirked but didn’t argue.

The silence between her wasn’t awkward anymore. It was… comfortable. Like you belonged here.

And maybe, just maybe, Jaemin was starting to think so too.

By the seventh time, she woke up in his bed.

Not in a scandalous way.

She barely remembered falling asleep, exhaustion pulling her under sometime during the late-night movie. But when she opened her eyes, she wasn't on the couch—she  was under warm blankets, her head resting against a pillow that smelled distinctly like Jaemin.

She turned, blinking in the morning light. Jaemin sat on the floor beside the bed, scrolling through his phone like this was completely normal.

She croaked, "…Did you put me here?"

Jaemin didn’t look up. "You were drooling on my couch. It was disgusting."

She snorted. "Wow. Chivalry isn’t dead."

"You’re welcome." He finally met her gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he quickly looked away. "Neck pain isn’t cute."

Something about his words made her heart do a weird little flip. She sat up slowly, the blankets pooling around her. "Jaemin…"

He hummed.

"You like me."

Jaemin froze.

A beat of silence passed.

Then he scoffed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Took you long enough to notice."

She grinned, barely able to contain the warmth spreading through her chest. "You could’ve just said so, you know."

Jaemin rolled his eyes, but the tips of his ears were so red. "Shut up and go back to sleep."

And when he climbed onto the bed beside her—because technically it was his bed—she didn’t move away.

Jaemin didn’t either.

After all, locked doors had a funny way of leading to open hearts.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Jealousy,Jealousy

Leah Williamson x reader

Warnings: Not my best, but also my first work back in a while

Your relationship with Leah was still new, so new that the only people who knew about you were your teammates, close friends and both families.

This was the argument you used against Leah whenever she thought someone was hitting on you. A statement that couldn't save poor Grace from Leah.

It was a cold afternoon when Arsenal faced off against Tottenham at the Emirates. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as the rivals clashed on the field. Leah’s gaze wandered up to midfield where she found your eyes softening as she caught you already looking at her, you were a source of comfort amid the fierce competition.

As the final whistle blew, signalling Arsenal's victory, relief flooded both the players and fans across the stadium. You however happy with the victory went around the Tottenham girls congratulating them on a well-played game amongst the players, Grace Clinton, Tottenham stargirl, approached you with a charming smile. "Hey, great game out there." You thanked her before pulling the younger girl into a hug "I could say the same soon you'll be coming for my starting spot on the senior squad" Grace laughed grabbing your arm "I'd prefer to play with you not in your place" You couldn't help but smile wider at the compliment "Thank you" Grace squeezed your arm her eyes looking you up and down as you turned oblivious in search of your girlfriend. "Hey would you fancy going out with me sometime?" she asked, her eyes lingering on you as you turned back to look at her. You politely declined stating you didn't see her like that but you would love to be better friends, but Leah's keen eyes caught every exchange and she couldn't help but give in to the tiny green monster you often called it, jealousy ran through her as she felt herself getting more annoyed the longer you talked to the younger midfielder. In the changing rooms, Katie, the lively midfielder, wasted no time teasing you about the encounter. "Looks like someone's got an admirer," she chirped, nudging you playfully you hit her arm lightly "Fuck off Katie please." Katie laughed "what I think it's cute but i don't know how your missus would feel about the competition." you turned looking to your girlfriend.

Leah, usually composed and confident, couldn't shake the nagging feeling of jealousy. Her usually bright demeanour dimmed, replaced by a subtle pout. The protective instinct surged within her, igniting a fire fuelled by possessiveness and affection.

You thought you had settled all of Leah's jealous feelings, especially towards Grace but you were proven wrong during the latest England camp. Grace had clung to your side the minute you entered St Georges Park and your girlfriend could do nothing but sit in a huff and glare. "Leah stop staring at the kid like that." Leah turned to look at Lucy "She has stolen my girlfriend and I want her back, Y/N has told her already she's not interested and yet she won't stop swinging out of her and batting her eyes like come on take a hint." This continued on for the rest of camp and anytime Leah was set up against the young midfielder she made sure to add in an extra shove much to your dismay. Leah only seemed to relax when you both were left alone in your shared room. This however ended one night when Leah was woken to a sharp knocking on the door, you turned slightly squeezing her mumbling that you would get it before she lay back down closing her eyes. You rubbed your eyes turning the lock on the door to be met with a teary-eyed Grace "Oh Grace are you ok." Grace shook her head "I...I'm sorry I had a bad dream and I couldn't sleep and I just can I stay with you." you nodded pulling her into the room, Leah turned over sighing unable to fall back to sleep without you beside her "Who is it." Leah sat up when you didn't respond eyes turning to glare at the younger girl who was now clinging to your arm "Just Grace, go back to sleep Le, she's staying the night I'll see you in the morning." Leah wanted to protest, to say that she shouldn't be out of her room after curfew and that she was only using a bad dream as an excuse to sleep in the same bed as you but then she thought back to all the times she did the same thing for years trying to spend every second together until she finally worked up the courage to ask you out. Huffing Leah turned to look at you as you climbed into bed eyes softening when she copped her jumper you were wearing.

Leah relaxed again once camp was over and she could put distance between you and Grace, only it didn't last long as now the younger midfielder wouldn't stop blowing up your phone. Leah knew she had to do something to show Grace you were hers and with the final North London derby of the season due to be played at Tottenham Hotspur Stadium Leah couldn't think of a better time to do it.

During the next match against Tottenham, Leah's demeanour shifted. Her tackles were sharper, her presence more commanding. She positioned herself strategically, ensuring that no opponent came close to you without facing her wrath, especially Grace.

As the game progressed, Leah's protective instincts intensified. She intercepted passes meant for you, shielding you from potential harm. Her eyes blazed with determination, a silent declaration of her commitment to keeping you safe, to keep you to herself.

After the final whistle, as the team celebrated another hard-earned victory, Leah pulled you aside. Her eyes softened as she cupped your face gently. "I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else trying to take you away from me," she confessed, her voice laced with vulnerability.

You wrapped your arms around her, reassurance flooding through every touch. "I'm yours, Leah, I'll only ever be yours" you whispered, pulling her into your arms.

At that moment, amidst the cheers and the camaraderie of the team, Leah realised that her jealousy stemmed not from insecurity but from a deep-rooted love for you. And as you stood together, she knew that nothing could ever come between you. Not some random girl at a club and certainly not Grace Clinton

[hyun0o]

Hi author. I want to request for blackpink imagine can you do for ot4, where y/n is really clingy with all of them and they treats y/n like a baby and rosé loves to carry y/n around. They would always do everything for y/n. Thank you love your stories.

Cutie

[Blackpink x 5th mem. Fem!Reader][FLUFF]

I'm so sorry anon, I didn't realize this req was 2 months agoo (—=—') pls forgive me °///°

—

(x=x')

Scenario 1 🎮

"Unnie no fair you cheated!" You whined when you lost to Jisoo in mario cart. Both of you sitting on the comfy couch in your vacation hotel after a large and successful comeback, while your other members were in the kitchen, preparing the dinner for tonight, well except for Lisa who was failing her tasks miserably. "Yah, what do you mean I cheated, just admit it you lost boo" Your unnie teased, your puffed cheeks turning slightly red from embarrassment. Maybe it was your own fault for challenging the queen of games. "I can't believe I lost to an oldie" You earned an annoyed call from Jisoo, soon she nagged you on how to play the game properly, taking power ups, stop ramming into the sides, and what not. You stuck your tongue out at her while she talked and when she saw your little shenanigans, you booked it knowing she'll poke your sides.

Running into the kitchen, your unnies saw you as you frantically hid behind them. Hoping for you to get protected by them, but of course it's not going to work. "Y/n-ah!!" Jisoo ran to you in a flash, but you wont lose to her again, the other girls watched as the oldest and youngest chased each other around the whole hotel. It basically lasted for 4 mins until Jennie finally called you two to stop. As you enter the kitchen again for the 4th time from the chase, Jennie glared at you with her cat like eyes, making you immediately stop dead in your tracks. "U-unnie..." You stammered with your words getting scared, 'Did I piss her off too? ' You thought as you gave her your infamous puppy dog eyes for some mercy. Jennies eyes furrowed as she stared at you, trying not to break but come on, you looked far way too cute to get angry at.

She sighed and pinched your cheeks, her tall walls breaking in attempt to lecture you "You're going to get hurt if you continue baby, come on and eat" She whispered with loving eyes, you loved your Unnie so much, you loved all of them. But of course you're not always going to say that just to tease them,as a maknae your job is to be mischievous to them. You hear a scream from Jisoo from behind and immediately your flight or fight mode went off, you chose flight. Hugging Jennie to her neck you hid in the crook of her neck to get protected. "Nini!!" You screamed in fear, really not wanting to get tickled. Jisoo bursted out laughing, were you really that scared? Jennie glared at her as well, making her shut her mouth. "We were just playing Jen..." Walking closer to you and soon she unsurprisingly poked your sides, you jumped and whined. "Come on you're over reacting silly, stop clinging onto Jendkkie" You looked at her and just for funs and giggles you stuck your tongue out to just annoy her again. "Yah! You little-" Jennie playfully hit her head to stop and just let it go, earning a pout from the oldest.

"Girls, food is ready!" Chaeyoung called, walking towards you three while Lisa prepared the dishes to the plates. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the funny scene. "What are you guys doing" Laughing, she looked at you pushed your hair to the side so your forehead can breathe. "Jisoo-unnie is so mean!" You pouted back at your oldest member, making her pull a jokingly annoyed face. Before she could even defend herself, Chaeyoung immediately went to your side and pampered you. "Yah this is why she's so spoiled" Jisoo crossed her arms with furrowed eyebrows, you giggle and finally wanted to stop teasing your unnie. Letting go of Jennie you soon hugged Jisoo and apologized for teasing her, even if you two always teased each other, you still loved her. Soon Chaeyoung and Jennie joined in the hug while Jisoo apologized as well. The warm embrace making you all feel at home.

"Hey I also want to join!" Cutie Lisa hugged last making you all chuckle.

Scenario 2 🎥

A sunny afternoon was the perfect setting to go out to the mall, shopping for some groceries and whatever items your hearts desired. For you, it was basically hell. Your heels were killing your damn feet while you're sweating inside of your multi layered outfit, only now regretting your choices, you curse your past naive self. While you suffered from your poor choices, the worst part is it was as if you were invisible to your other members, completely forgetting about you ever since the outing started. Chaeyoung and Lisa were bickering in what to buy for tonight, including board games, food, and other necessities. While Lisa was recording your fun little outing for a vlog. "Come on please, play with me tonight this seems like a fun game" The blonde girl raised the board game up for the camera to see, Lisa can't help but just say yes. And then going back to the camera to shake her head and whisper playful no's. "Yah I heard that" She threw the board game in the basket, finally noticing your tired state, droplets of sweat twinkled on your forehead with your shaking feet not being able to support yourself properly.

"You okay bub? You don't look too good" You wanted to burst out right then and there, finally she noticed you. They were basically ignoring you for the past evening full of walking around and buying things. Rather than anger you start to tear up, making Chaeyoung panic. "Everything sucks" You sniffed, maybe you were over reacting? Maybe you're too sensitive? Maybe it's not even a big deal. You tried hard to reason with yourself, but no matter how much you invalidated your own feelings; nothing worked to calm your nerves down. In fact it made it all worse. "W-what wrong? Does your feet hurt? Here let me help you" You didn't reply, heart still filled with emotions, as Lisa turned the camera off, she finally noticed you two from behind, also spotting the tears on your face while Chaeyoung was taking your heels off. "Y/nnie what's wrong? Did Rosie bully you?" She wiped your tears with her sleeves, guilt emerging in your chest, it wasn't really their fault, yet you were still hurt. "You're probably the one who made her cry idiot" She replied with an annoyed tone making you shiver, Chaeyoung isn't the type to get frustrated at people.

"Here bub, climb on my back. I can carry you back to the van" Your tears swelled up again, you didn't deserve this just after throwing a stupid tantrum. "Listen to Chae, Ynnie, I'll carry your jacket, you're sweating beads" With that you went on Chaeyoungs back while hiding your face on her shoulder, tears still flowing while sniffling. The two older girls can't help but feel guilty, were they the reason you're crying? "Ynnie... Did we do something wrong? Please tell us so we can apologize properly" Lisa looked at you with worry in her eyes, hoping that you'd answer. You whisper something only you can understand on Chaeyoungs shoulder, although it was audible, they couldn't really understand your muffled words.

"Say it again bub what is it?"

"You two ignored me... Ever since this outing started, then my shoes started to get uncomfy to the point it really hurt my feet. And then I got to suffer the consequences of my own choice of clothing, today sucks..." They thought back to this morning where you all got to the mall, you were right. They did ignore you but not on purpose. It's when they always get interrupted to reply to you or when they just shrugged you off. Lisa even remembered that you mentioned how you feet started to get hurt but before she could acknowledge your comment, she got distracted by an item in the store. They both felt horrible, you didn't deserve such treatment. "We're sorry bub... We didn't realize it till now, we promise we'll make it up to you" Chaeyoung hung her head low, as with Lisa, "We promise it won't happen again." You feel content, that's all you wanted to hear from them, a sorry and some assurance where they'd make it up to you. Looking to your side, you were met with Lisa with furrowed eyebrows, guilt evident on her face. "Promise?" You held your pinky up, Lisa smiled brightly and took your pinky with hers, intertwining it.

"We promise" Kissing your forehead, the heavy weights in your chest finally lifting as you hugged Chaeyoung by her neck with a content smile on your face.

(°π°)

—

Huhu I love the thought of yn getting pampered by their Unnies, this is probably why most of my biases are maknaes lol. I hope you guys enjoyedd <3

- (_=_)

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT

leon kennedy x fem!reader.

warnings: emotional incest (daddy-daughter), dead parent, Leon’s ooc and kind of a pervert and a very unreliable narrator, reader is just a little bit too.

tumblr shadowbans posts that use nsfw tags, ergo the only tags I will use are in the post. content is below the read more and you’re responsible for your own media consumption. read at your own risk.

Your dad isn’t a bad guy. He’s, you know, inept in the way sitcom dads are. He has to ask you how the dishwasher runs when he sees you do it and it takes a couple times, but he figures it out in the end. Same thing with the washer and not having to separate out your reds and whites so you don’t make pink.

Leon’s just… he’s just a bit lonely. Mom died a decade back and now he walks around with half his heart in his hands and stares at you a little too long ‘cause you look just like her.

He tried dating but every woman he went out with could see his broken heart from a mile away and it was like seeing a dilapidated house, nobody wants a fixer-upper.

It’s no surprise to you when he starts hanging off you when you’re cooking for the two of you, big arms wrapped around your waist and cheek on your shoulder. Mom always said he was so clingy and would laugh every time she said that as he pressed his mouth to every place he could reach.

That was another thing too, she’d get playfully annoyed when she was wearing a strappy dress for some sort of work function and he’d damn near glue himself to her—body and mouth. She could never take it when he’d give her that kicked puppy look and reluctantly let go either.

Like mother, like daughter, you guess. You don’t shove him off or squirm free when he clings to you like a barnacle on a ship and you don’t complain because you damn well need the comfort too, even if you guys end up sharing a bed more often than not.

Your dad wasn’t very touchy when you were little, save for when you two were wrestling and he’d go a little too hard and wouldn’t let you up. You’d scream and cry when he wouldn’t let you out from under him and more often than not went crying to mom when she’d walk in.

But, anyway, he has that awkward demeanor of a guy who never got a hug from mommy when he was little. Hence why you never went to him when you wanted comfort, and mom was softer anyway, except for maybe a handful of times.

He told you once that he liked when you were sick because it meant you’d want his comfort, which stuck with you for a long while, but you’re past that, you’re a grown girl now.

Well, okay, it gets a little strange one day when he wraps himself around you like a vine from behind, fresh out of the shower. You get a whiff of him and pause, the wooden spatula freezing in the pan. He feels you stiffen up and lifts his head up, about to ask what’s wrong when you ask, “Is that my body wash?” sounding extremely scandalized and shocked.

Fuck, he never likes it when you’re shocked or angry or anything but happy with him. “Maybe.” Leon replies elusively, tightening his hold on you.

“Okay, what the fuck, dad?” You try to turn around but he holds tight. You stir faster, some rice slopping over the sides of the pan to burn on the electric burner. “Did you run out of yours, or something?”

“No.” Leon shakes his head, nose dragging across your clothed shoulder. “I just like the way yours smells.”

You make a face, unsure how to really respond to that. “Weirdo.” You decide after a while, shaking more soy sauce into the rice and stirring it around.

“Your mom never minded.” He huffs, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck and fighting a smile when your shoulders jump.

Your brows furrow and you turn off the burner with a click. “I’m not mom.” Comes out harsh, the spatula banging on the side of the pan to get the stray rice off.

Leon frowns, pressing his mouth to your shoulder for a moment. “I know, sweetheart.” He mumbles, straightening up and loosening his hold on you when you reach for the plates.

You frown too, lips pressing into a line as you dish out the food for yourself. He can damn well serve himself, he’s a grown ass man.

Dinner is a stiff affair, but he’s nice enough to do the damn dishes for his number one girl. “C’mere.” He tells you when he’s done, holding his arms out. You come over, of course, cheek squishing against his shoulder as you sag against him. You can never stay mad at that old oaf for long. “I miss her.” Dad murmurs by your ear, pretending not to notice the way your arms flare with goosebumps. Sensitive ears, you got that from him.

“I know, dad.” You mumble back, nose invaded by the orange scent of your body wash on him and his sharp-smelling aftershave. “I miss her too.” Enough time’s gone by that your voice doesn’t crack when you say that, but your throat aches all the same.

He squeezes you closer, resting his cheek on the top of your head, kissing it before laying his cheek back on your head.

Leon’s not a bad guy. You’re just the closest thing he’s got to a wife. And he really needs to get a fucking grip because he can’t keep walking around at half-mast because you called him dad. Like, what the hell else are you supposed to call him? Leon? Fuck no. You’re his kid and kids don’t call their parents by their first names, except for that creepy kid in The Ring, but that’s fake.

God, there’s something wrong with him, he’s got a couple screws loose or something that makes him react this way. He made you. He remembers going to all the ultrasound appointments and buying the prenatals and the damn cravings. He remembers holding you when your mother finally pushed you out, kissing her sweaty temple when you opened your little mouth and started crying because the world was too loud compared to the comfort of the womb.

And he remembers when little thirteen-year-old you dragged his sorry ass into the house after he collapsed on the lawn in a drunken stupor. He was in and out for a bit after you finally lugged him inside onto the couch and had to chase after the cat for good measure and bring her silly ass back in.

When he woke up, it was six in the morning and he had one of the worst hangovers of his life. There was already a little bowl on his blanketed lap in case he puked and you were curled up in a ball on the furthest side of the couch, snoozing away.

He let you stay home for the day and had an intervention with himself as you played nurse. Maybe that’s when shit got fucked up and lines got blurred. Somewhere along the way, some wires got crossed and you started sitting where your mom did, in addition to sleeping in their bed too.

He remains awake as you snore contentedly with your back to him, his chest firmly against your spine and hips against his. See, that’s another thing you got from him, those hips and perky ass. The more he thinks about it, you’re all him in all the best and worst ways.

Best ways: hips. Ass. Definitely legs too. You got his nose and his dimples and smile. And that little spring to your step that reminds him of the days before he transferred to the RCPD and came out of Raccoon City worse for wear. You make the same faces he does—got that nearly permanent furrow in your brow that he smooths out with his thumb and warns you that you’re too young for wrinkles. Sensitive ears too.

Worst ways: clingy. It was worse when you were young and always wanted to be around him. Jeez, he gets that you were a kid and all, but wow. Is it normal for kids to cling onto their dad’s calves and tell them not to go to work? Another thing, you’re so damn sensitive. Just one comment will throw you off and he’ll be begging for you to get back to normal. One time when you were twelve, he tried to spank you and he got the silent treatment for the rest of the night after you wiggled your way free, tears streaming down your little face. He slept on the couch because he felt so bad.

There is one thing though… Leon can pat himself on the back for making the perfect girl for him. You just share half his DNA, which makes things a little sticky.

You shift a little in your sleep, your ass pressing against his dick and he has to damn near bite his tongue bloody so he doesn’t make a noise because you’re asleep. More often than not, he has to go rub one out in the bathroom and feel guilty because all that can get him off is thoughts of you.

He tries out dating apps again a couple days after that. “Honey?” He calls out as you’re in the kitchen putting the dishes away.

“What?” Ugh, he hates that, you should just come over here when he calls out for you. When he doesn’t respond, you groan so loudly he can hear you from two rooms over, walking over to where he sits on the couch with those bifocals. “What, dad?”

“Can you help me set up my Tinder profile?” He has to hold in a smirk when you do a double take and shift your weight between your feet, gaze falling down to your bare legs because you decided to torment him and wear those stupid bike shorts before he trains his eyes back on your face.

“Aren’t you… aren’t you a little old for that?”

You don’t mean any harm, but he winces a little for show, his hand over his heart. “Ouch, honey, that hurts. I’m your old man, you should be nice to me.”

You huff at him and plop down next to him on the couch, leaning so close he can smell your coconut body butter you insist on slathering yourself in after a shower. Just take them a little colder, you don’t need to boil alive to get clean. “What do you have?” You ask him, scratching the tip of your nose.

He hands his phone over to you and you hold it carefully, swiping through his pictures catalogue before you look up at him, distinctly unimpressed in the way only hot college girls can be. He finds himself asking more than a little defensively, “What?”

“You need better pictures.” And to not set your age limits at a grandma’s age and a college girl’s age. “Hang on, I have some good ones of you.”

“Did your mom take them?” He leans over to watch you swipe through your gallery.

You shake your head, selecting a couple pictures from a folder named ‘dad’ and texting them to him. “No, I caught a couple candids of you maybe a couple weeks back. And Aunt Claire always sends some to me when all you older folk go out.”

Leon gasps in mock scandal, notching his sharp chin on your shoulder. “I could sue you for that. Unlawful surveillance. What are you doing taking pictures of me without my knowledge anyway?”

You freeze before you go back to selecting the right pictures for his Tinder carousel. “Scrapbooking.” You answer quietly after a long, uncomfortable pause, your eyes on his phone screen. “I don’t have much of mom, so I take as many of you as I can.”

Oh, sweetheart. He wraps an arm around you and squeezes you tight as you help him finish setting upon his profile. See, a couple good ones: him holding a bass as big as his arms put together, one of him smiling unguardedly with Auntie Claire’s German shepherd mix on his lap insisting on pets—he’s smiling so wide his dimples are showing, his fingers buried in the long fur—another of him taking a picture of you taking a picture of him, maybe he can add more when he feels like it.

He squints at the screen, maybe he should up his prescription, “What the hell’s a bio?”

You snort, halfway amused and halfway bewildered. “Like, biography, dad.”

“Why don’t they just say that?” He says to watch you turn to look at him, your noses just this far apart.

You turn back around, face warming. “Because it was meant to be shorthand.”

“Oh.”

You show the phone to him. It’s got his Zodiac—Scorpio—in a tab along with his height and weight, marital status, whether he drinks or smokes or is ‘420 friendly’—which you tell him means whether he’s okay with weed, he says no and you change that—whether he’s a cat or dog person, all the really important things to consider in a potential partner. He adds that he has you, then hedges on whether he should mention the dead wife.

You veto mentioning it, so he leaves it out, then saves his profile.

A bit after you help your dad set up his tinder profile—apparently, DILFs are in—you get asked out on a date. Which, normally, would be cause for celebration.

You just feel anxious at the thought of telling your dad that you’re going out. Like, how is he going to respond? He was never overprotective, and isn’t really now, but you really dislike the idea of leaving him alone for a while. You keep it a secret until you come downstairs and he’s making dinner. He turns around when he hears your feet on the creaky stairs, eyebrows raising as he lets out a low whistle at your outfit.

Your face warms all the way up to your ears.

“Where are you going?” He asks, managing to not sound sleazy as he turns back around to stir the sauce in the pot, the only thing betraying his true feelings being how jerky his movements are.

“Out on a date.” You reply reticently, shifting from foot to foot at the bottom of the stairs.

“Okay.” He says after a tense pause. Then he glances back over his shoulder, waggling his eyebrows at you. “Play safe.”

“Ew, dad.” You say as you go get your shoes and pull them on where you sit on the stairs. “Not happening.”

He hums, eyeing you surreptitiously. Aw, blue underpants this time, not red or black. “Good. At least wait until the third date.”

“I’m going now.” You tell him emphatically, wrapping your arms around him from behind before you walk out, keys in your bag. Leon’s stomach flips when your hand lands on his stomach, body betraying him once again. He curses under his breath and hangs his head, willing himself to calm down and kill that jealousy rising in the back of his throat as he watches you pull out of the driveway and go on your date.

Well, you come home thirty minutes later, guilt eating at you for daring to go out on a date. Nevermind the fact that you’re a fully grown adult and can do whatever you want because you’re young and hot.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He’s at the table, eating by himself and painting a very sad picture of bachelorhood. “Did it not go so well?”

“Yeah.” You lie, getting yourself a plate and serving yourself some spaghetti and meatballs. You didn’t even make it to the restaurant before you took a u-turn and went home, making up something about an emergency coming up. “Didn’t like the guy, gave me bad vibes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He gets up and scoops you into a hug, hiding his glee successfully. “Other fish in the sea.” He says blithely when you’re both sitting down.

You slurp up the last of your spaghetti before giving him a smile. “Yeah. Other fishes.”

Neither of you mean a word you say.

A month later, he gets to go out on a date with someone else. He tells you the day of, the very same way you did a month prior.

Turnabout’s fair play but your stomach still complains and you’re still jealous of this woman.

He tuts and flicks your nose when you’re silent for a little too long, grinning when you scowl at him and jab him in the stomach. He grunts and doubles over and gets you back, this little play-fight going on for a few minutes because neither of you matured past the age of twelve.

Eventually, you get away and watch him adjust his clothes that you helped pick him out, your arms folding as you pout and sulk on the inside. “Don’t pout at me, babygirl.” He tells you, giving you a wink that traitorously makes your stomach flip-flop. “I’ll be back around nine, you can bring the hammer down if I’m out past curfew.”

You still don’t smile, you feel a little like you’re being replaced. Then again, this mystery woman isn’t the one who gets to have him clinging onto her as she cooks or while you sleep in the same bed or on the couch watching a movie you picked out because Leon’s a big softie and can never say no to his favorite girl.

But she might, and you revolt at the thought of having a stepmother at your big age. You two made it a decade without a replacement, you certainly don’t need one, and lately, you’re not so sure dad needs one either. You’re a wife figure all on your own.

He leaves with a big hug and a kiss dropped on the top of your head, the door shutting behind him. You watch him reverse out of the driveway before you start on dinner and sulk the entire way through the oven cooking your chicken nuggets.

Leon comes home an hour later and scoops you into a hug, rousing you from sleep in your shared bed.

“What’s up, dad?” You sleepily nose at him, head tucked into his neck. “Did you not like her?”

“Nah. I didn’t even see her, I told her something came up.” He pets your head and you snuffle, one arm wrapping around his waist.

“How come?”

“Bad vibes.” He knows you know he’s lying. “Besides,” he shifts, scooping you onto his lap, “I’ve got my number one girl right here.”

[explosionkatsu]

Age doesn't matter Finale

Dad!Bakugo x F!Teacher!Babysitter!Reader

24

As the school week comes to an end, he eagerly looks forward to his weekend visit with his mother. Without fail, every Saturday or Sunday, he sets aside time to make the journey to his home. The time spent with her is precious to him, and he cherishes the opportunity to catch up on each other's lives, share stories, and simply enjoy each other's company especially now that he is looking forward to meeting his baby brother.

As Kazui walked into the living room, you couldn't help but smile. "You're early, Kazui-chan," you said, giggling as you tried to stand up from the comfortable sofa where you sat. "Okairi, sweety," you added with a smile, admiring his delicate features that contrasted his father's strong ones.

Kazui seemed worried as he threw his bag aside and rushed to your side. "Dad will scold you again," he warned you, concern etched on his face. "Please don't move that much, Mom."

"Don't worry that much, dear. You are all overreacting," you playfully pushed him but gave him a hug which he returned happily. You could feel the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his hair, as well as the gentle beating of his heart.

"We just don't want you to move that much," Kazui said, as he looked up at you. You couldn't help but notice how much he resembled his father and felt a pang of bliss.

"Oh, shush. I'm taking care of myself. Don't worry, okay?" you giggled, finally releasing Kazui from the embrace. You could see that he still looked worried, but you didn't want to trouble him further.

"Fine, fine," Kazui chuckled. "Have you eaten? Do you want me to prepare you anything?" His voice was soft and soothing, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for his care.

"I'm fine, dear. How was school?" you asked, taking his bag from where he threw it. You slightly bend down to grab it, feeling its weight already, and wonder how he managed to carry it around all day.

Kazui saw this and just took his bag before you could take it, making you pout. "It's pretty annoying," he scowled. You could see that he was tired and wanted to rest.

"Why is that?" you asked, curious about what was bothering him.

"A bunch of extras are clinging to me. I hate it," he replied, his eyes rolling at the thought.

Hearing this, you laughed out loud. "You have no idea how... how," you couldn't even continue your sentence, as you were still laughing.

Kazui looked at you weirdly.

Almost right on time, Katsuki walked in holding a bunch of groceries. "I'm back." He called out. As he turned to look at you, an eyebrow raised, seeing his son. "You're early, brat."

"And you're here," Kazui said raising his eyebrow, eyeing his Dad from top to bottom. "Are you supposed on patrol today?"

"Unlike you, I get to take a leave from work, brat," Katsuki smirked still holding the groceries.

"Now, now, you two." You stepped between. You that these two would start a fight, and also knew that your husband would spar with Kazui. "Katsuki, just put those in the kitchen, Kazui, go freshen up." You said, arms crossed.

"You're lucky your mom's here, brat." Katsuki grinned.

"I will beat you this time if Mom is not here." Kazui scowled as he headed to his bathroom.

" I swear to god, these two." You shook your head while watching.

---

Katsuki moved around the kitchen with precision, expertly maneuvering the pots and pans. The aroma of the delicious meal filled the air, making Y/n's mouth water in anticipation. Her heart swelled with gratitude for Katsuki, who always took care of her, especially now that she was pregnant with their second child.

As Y/n gazed in awe at Katsuki's impressive culinary skills, she noticed Kazui finally making his way down the stairs. His feet made a soft pitter-patter sound on the wooden steps, the noise echoing through the entire house.

When Kazui reached the bottom of the stairs, he couldn't contain his excitement and immediately sat down next to Y/n, eager to converse with his mother about how his training went at school.

At the sound of his son's footsteps, Katsuki turned around and caught sight of Kazui, a small smirk spreading across his face.

As he observed the scene unfolding before him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of joy welling up inside him. The bond between Y/n and Kazui was a beautiful sight to behold, and it filled his heart with an indescribable warmth. Watching Kazui interact with his mother, chatting with her calmly and genuinely, and tenderly placing a hand on her belly to feel the presence of his soon-to-be little sibling, stirred deep emotions within him.

As they all gathered around the dinner table, the room was filled with the sound of laughter and animated chatter. Y/n's laughter was infectious, and Katsuki and Kazui engaged in a lively conversation about school. Y/n couldn't help but smile as she watched her husband and son, bantering, and particularly relishing Katsuki's teasing, which never failed to bring a smile to her face.

At that moment, as they shared a meal, Y/n couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. She was grateful for the love of her husband and son, and the little one growing inside her. As she looked around the table, her heart filled with a sense of contentment and a deep appreciation for the beautiful life they had created together.

She never imagined that her life would turn out this way. The journey seemed full of confusion and pain in the past, but in the end, everything worked out wonderfully.

A great husband and a great son.

He may be a little older than her, but age doesn't matter in love, right? 

-

1k words only. Its been a while, I'm sorry. But here is the finale. This is a bit rushed but I know you guys needed closure for this story lol. I do hope some of ya'all still liked this.

And for my other fanfics? It might take a while for me to update since I got a job now, its tiring but I really want to get back at writing. So, yeah.

Enjoy!

[witchygagirlwrites]

Phoenix-Part 5

Kelly Severide x Reader (nicknamed Phoenix)

So, maybe you and Kelly do have a thing for each other after all??

Warnings: flirting like hell and nix flashing kelly?

Physical therapy was a bitch. You hated it equally every single time you had to go through it. Of course, a broken ankle was a lot less complicated than when you got burnt. You were ready to go back on duty by the six week mark, even if you would have to wear a support for a couple weeks just as a precaution. 

You weren’t sure what exactly had shifted between you and Kelly when you got hurt. Had he been afraid when he got down there and you were under that much debris? Was it the fact that while you were in pain you finally broke and called him by his first name?

The two of you still gave each other hell because that's just how you were but now it was different. He was there when you needed a ride to PT before you could walk on your ankle fully. He’d come over with takeout to keep you company and catch you up on what happened on shift. Gabby would text you to tell you that he seemed like a whipped puppy and the only time he’d perk up was when she’d call you and say his ego needed to be checked.

You were fairly certain he just missed having someone to annoy, right?

 You parked across from the fifty one and grabbed everything you needed. Boden was the only person who knew you were coming back today. You asked him to keep it under wraps until you showed up to shift.

You looked both ways to clear the street then ran across. You didn’t even make it all the way to the bays before Cruz and Otis spotted you “PHOENIX!” 

You laughed as the two of them ran out, pulling you into their arms. “Easy boys, I just got cleared for the ankle. Let’s not break anything else” they set you back down as everyone else appeared behind them.

 “Nix?” Gabby was the next to spot you, a grin on her face, “You damn sneak. You didn’t tell me you were coming back today!” You shrugged “I wanted it to be a surprise”

One by one you greeted everybody until you were left standing face to face with Kelly. You shrugged “Well damn Kel do I get a hug or what?” He laughed and scooped you up, your feet coming off the floor when he hugged you “I’ve got to admit, it’s been a little boring without you” 

When he sat you down you shoved his chest playfully “Why? Can’t check out anyone else’s ass?” He shrugged “That too” and winked at you.

You shook your head as Boden walked out and clapped “Phoenix rising up yet again. Welcome back” you smiled “Thanks Chief” he looked around “How about everybody doing something that appears like work?” You grinned “Yeah, let’s do something” and that caused a chorus of laughter to go around the group.

_________________

“So, are you gonna admit you have a thing for her now?” Matt asked Kelly as he sat down next to him in the bays. You were standing just outside the ambulance while Gabby and Sylvie did inventory. “Don’t know what you’re talking about” Kelly laughed and Matt nodded slowly “Oh, so you haven’t looked like a kid on christmas morning since she got here?”

Kelly cut his eyes at Matt “So, I missed a friend and coworker. What of it?” “You’ve never been that happy to see me” Matt teased and Kelly rolled his eyes “Yeah, well you aren’t Nix” 

It wasn’t that big of a deal that he missed you or that he’d driven you to PT a few times or that he’d brought takeout to your place. You were his friend, that's what friends did. So what if his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest when the call came over the radio that you’d been hurt or how it felt when he got to your side and found you pinned by debris or how it felt that the first time you called him by his first name was you screaming it in pain and clinging to him.

Maybe he did have some sort of feelings for you but it wasn’t like he was going to act on them. He cared about you, hell yeah he cared about you but he honestly liked your relationship now. You could hang out, you were at ease around him. He didn’t want to mess that up.

_________________

“So, are you gonna bite the bullet and go for it?” Gabby asked and you raised an eyebrow, counting the narcan and telling Sylvie how many. “Go for what?” you asked and Sylvie scoffed “Like you don’t know. Kelly is crazy about you. He lost it when you got hurt and he has been unbearable around here without you” 

You shook your head “He likes me because I give him hell right back” Gabby smirked “I bet he would like you to give him something right back” you gasped and she grinned “Just saying” you shook your head “You’re horrible, I swear” she shrugged “At least I’m not blind.. Like some people” and handed you something else to count. You shook your head “Bite me Dawson” she winked at you “I think Severide wants that particular job there ma’am”

When the alarm rang out for the truck, squad and ambulance to respond to a structure fire you hopped on next to Herrman who smiled at you “Nice to see ya face again sweetheart” you grinned “Feels good to be back” 

_______________

Once you all got on the scene Matt started giving out marching orders. You were about to fall in when you heard Kelly call your name. You turned to look his way and he nodded towards the building “Make it out in one piece this time, please?” you winked at him “Why, don’t wanna come save me?” he grinned “Oh I’ll save you everything time just prefer to not have to” you shook your head “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine”

______________

It didn’t bother Kelly at all seeing you walk into a building after you fell through a floor the last time. He definitely wasn’t thinking over everything that could go wrong. He worked through with squad and could hear you over the radio and found a smile working its way onto his face every time he heard your voice, oh boy. That couldn’t be good, could it?

When the trucks rolled back up to fifty one you laughed when you hopped out the truck. No one got hurt, no other structures were damaged and you felt back one hundred percent now. “Someone has an adrenaline high” Matt teased and you grinned “Just a little bit Case” he shook his head “Go annoy Gabby” you laughed as you stripped your gear then went in search of Gabby.

You walked around the end of the truck and slammed into Kelly. “Shit Sev, you’re hard as hell” he smirked “Not currently but you keep rubbing on me like that and I probably would be and Sev? What happened to Kel?” you cut your eyes up at him and shook your head “You’re horrible” you could feel your face warm, thinking about him being hard. He grinned “Are you thinking about it?” you shoved him playfully “No”

“You are! You’re sexualizing me” he gasped. You raised an eyebrow “Keep teasing, I may just do something about it” you threw back. He took a step closer, leaning down closer to you “Like what?” you swallowed hard when the first instinct you had was to press your lips against his. 

“I can fluster you too Kelly” you replied. He raised an eyebrow “How” you grinned and looked around. No one was paying attention to you so you pulled your shirt down enough he could just get a glimpse of the top of your red lace bra. He groaned “Oh that’s not playing fair” you stepped closer to him, tilting your head to look him in the eye “Be good and I may show you the entire set” he swallowed hard “You’re wanting me hard aren’t you?” you grinned “Maybe, maybe not.” then turned and walked away, hearing him chuckle behind you.

You were walking out to your car at the end of shift the following morning when you heard Kelly’s voice “Nix!” you turned to see him walking up to you. “Yes?” you asked with a grin. He smiled “Let me buy you breakfast” you crossed your arms “As a friend or are you asking me out?”

His smile got broader. “Which one do you want it to be?”  you shrugged “As a friend, I pay and walk out after. As a date, you pay and there’s a chance I may kiss you after” he nodded slowly “Date then”

You worried your bottom lip with your teeth for a moment seeing his eyes widen before you finally laughed “I’d love to Kel” and then you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He grinned when you pulled back “What was that for?” “I want to?” you asked so he nodded “Then give me a real kiss” you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips against his. 

You felt one of his hands go to your hips, the other came up to your jaw. When his tongue flicked out to ask for access you gladly gave it and groaned lightly when he rolled his tongue against yours. When the need for air forced the two of you apart you laughed breathlessly “Let’s go get waffles and talk about some things Kelly” he smiled “I’d like that” 

Part 6

@elvenpirate51

@bonnyclydecat

@skywalker0809

[potchi-fics]

8 ball

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Bada and Y/n, for some reason, hate each others guts-- the two try and beat one another whenever they're in the same room. but what happens when the tension transforms into... something else? NOTE: there may be suggestive themes, or even full on nsfw🔞🔞.. i just wanted to give you all a heads up

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Y/n, one of the it girls on the campus. she has everything: money, money, good looks.. everything. one thing about her is she's not the innocent girl you think she looks. oh, no, she's a woman who will do anything to get her way, no matter what.

Bada, like Y/n, one of the it girls. she, too, has everything Y/n has. but she's a player-- she doesn't, or rather, won't care about your feelings. she oozes fuck girl energy.

and they both hate loathe each other.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Y/n and her friends are playing billiards, talking to one another happily, discussing about their stressing college life when Noze changes the topic to Y/n.

"so Y/n," dragging out the first word, "any updates on your love life?"

"please," Aiki snorts, "Y/n? love life? don't even bother-- ah shit!" by the looks of it, the cue ball fell in the corner pocket.

Y/n rolls her eyes playfully, "you're talking as if i'm not here, eh? and besides, i just haven't found my match." she pouts.

"oh, trust me," Monika quips remarks, "you have. by the way, you suck at this, Aiki."

the three only shared knowing looks while Y/n looks at them in confusion. she was about to ask what she meant when they hear a set of people take their place beside them.

Y/n face distorts into annoyance, only crossing her legs and staring at the other table.

"miss me?"

Bada.

She scoffs, "as if."

Bada confidently strolls to her, ignoring the group. "oh c'mon, i know you do."

"talking nonsense, baby," the petname only making Bada smirk, "you're self-projecting onto me.. you're being so obvious, Bada." Y/n's honey like voice tease her.

their moment gets ruined as they hear Chocol's voice from the other table. Bada winks at Y/n, and she gave her a flying kiss as a reply. Y/n looks back at her friends and they all stare with their eye brows raised.

"what?"

"nothing.." Monika answered.

Y/n grumbles. "what is it? tell me? and why does Bada have to choose a table beside us? there's like, plenty other tables."

Aiki and Noze shakes their head at her, "stop grumbling, you look like a baby. let's play!"

minutes pass by and her were all enjoying their stay; making jabs at each other whenever a shot doesn't work out. what Y/n doesn't notice is Bada throwing looks at her every 5 minutes.

"dude, stop staring at her." Haechi pokes fun at her, "we know you're in love and all, but seriously, play."

"i'm not in love with her," Bada denies. "stop saying that."

her friends only hums, resulting another comment from her.

"i'm being for real right now," Bada throws up a middle finger, "it's just so fun annoying her."

Chocol mumbles out, "yeah, that's how my grandpa and grandma met."

"oh, fuck off, Chocs." Bada groans while Haechi laughs her ass off.

a moment later and a woman walks in the place, she marches to where Bada's table is.

"oh! Redlic?" Chocs seem surprised.

Redlic clings to Bada, not even batting an eye to Chocol-- making Haechi and Chocol roll their eyes secretly.

"i missed you, baby." Redlic states, hugging Bada tighter.

Bada separates herself from her, "stop calling me that. you know i hate being called those."

"but if it's Y/n, you don't complain.."

"real, real."

hushed whispers from Bada's friends made her roll her eyes.

going back to Y/n and she is fuming. she hates that that woman keeps clinging to Bada. her stare was so intense that it looks like she's burning holes at the back of their head.

"relax, no one's gonna take your baby away from you," Aiki prods, "why so angry?"

she only roll her eyes and clicks her tongue, trying to focus her attention on the pool. "i'm not."

"enemies to lovers, 'm betting twenty-five dollars on that." Aiki added.

you did try to play, but you see that woman clinging to Bada in the corner of your eye, distracting you.

Noze stares at you in amusement, "how come you're still great at this even though you're distracted?"

"'cus sixty-five percent of her life revolves around this place," Monika remarks.

"then money, grades, coffee, and lastly.." Noze side eyes the other table, "Bada."

hitting the cue ball rather harshly, "you guys are crazy." she rubs the chalk cube against the tip of her cue, "my life does not revolve around her."

"it kinda does."

she only rolled her eyes for the millionth time today. before being able to strike the eight ball, Chocol comes over.

"hey, y/n," she raises her eyebrows at Chocol, "you wanna play against Redlic? the woman beside Bada. there's a bet going on right now, and you know.."

guess now you know her name.

"absolutely," Aiki answered for her.

Chocol nods her head and goes back.

Y/n hits Aiki's shoulder, "you didn't even give me time to think?"

"c'mon, don't you wanna beat Redlic?" her friend whines, "also, i wanna join the bet, so let's go."

Aiki drags them all to where a crowd is forming. she clicks her tongue once more, seeing how Redlic arm's wrapped around Bada's.

"you're the one playing against me?" Redlic cockily questioned.

Y/n simply nods, "yep."

"prepare to lose."

all Y/n could think was, is that all she can do?

Y/n shrugs, "we're wastin' everybody's time here, considering i'm only practicing."

Aiki shouts, "that's my chicken."

"that's right, i raised you like that!" Monika throws out.

and she sees Noze laughing and filming the whole thing. she also sees Redlic's face morph into irritation.

"you go first, i insist." Y/n comments, staring at Bada deviously at the end of her sentence.

Redlic is doing surprisingly well, knocking every ball she hits down the pockets. not forgetting to take shots at Y/n who only smiled and whistled. but on her third to the last ball, she missed.

"aww," she coos, her eyes drifting to Bada as she fixes the table. "that sucks."

Y/n winks at Bada, getting a smirk in response.

now, it was her time to show off. with every hit, every ball-- she mesmerised everybody watching, even Bada. with every ball that she puts in, fuels Bada.

down with the last ball-- the eight ball. she positions herself and fortunately, it was in directly in front of Bada. she bends over, not even caring that other people were seeing them. all she cares, right now, is to make Bada lose herself.

Bada's teeth sinks into her lower lip, her eyes roaming Y/n's body. she was so busy gawking at her that she doesn't hear the crowd exclaiming as Y/n won. hell, she doesn't even notice Redlic storming out of the place.

the crowd disperse but Y/n turns around to face her. she sees Y/n sit on the pool table, beckoning her over.

"enjoyed my show?" she let Bada go between her legs.

Bada puts her hands on the girl's hips, putting her face dangerously close to Y/n. "mhm.."

the air around them suddenly becomes thick, tension building up rapidly. Y/n's fingers massages Bada's nape and her thumb swiping Bada's lower lip.

her eyes lowers down to Y/n lips, "i loved it." she whispers.

"i can tell, baby."

slowly, Y/n pulls Bada towards her, and Bada lets her. just when their lips are about to touch, Y/n pulls back. Bada tries to chase her lips but she stops her.

"not yet," she murmured.

Bada breathed, "baby, why?"

"'cus i want to torture you." she kisses Bada's neck before pushing her away gently and walking to where her friends are.

Bada stares at you stunned as you saunter back to where your friends are because that's the first time that has happened to her.

"better luck next time, boss." Chocol pats her back.

Haechi snickers, "looks like you're the one who's gonna do the chasing."

deep down, she's more than okay with that.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

OPS OPSS🤚 no nsfw yet hehe hope you all enjoy

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

[eternaltae7]

Close Quarters

Fox of BTS | BTS 8th Member

Hani quietly entered the stadium, keeping her hoodie pulled over her head and sunglasses perched on her nose. She knew she wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, but she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than necessary. This was Seventeen’s kick-off concert in Seoul, and she was determined to support them without sparking any more rumors. But from the moment the concert started, it was nearly impossible to tear her eyes off him. Wonwoo was electrifying on stage—his movements, his gaze, everything about him commanded attention, and she was utterly captivated.

Hani had managed to slip backstage after Seventeen’s concert, and the second she found Wonwoo, she couldn’t resist throwing her arms around him. He looked even better up close, still riding the high of performing, with that confident spark in his eyes. She knew she should congratulate the others, but after spending the whole night completely captivated by him on stage, she could barely keep her hands to herself.

Seungkwan and Hoshi spotted them and immediately started teasing. “Hani, I thought you came to support all of us,” Seungkwan teased, crossing his arms in a dramatic pout. “Could’ve sworn you didn’t even look in my direction.”

She laughed, giving them quick hugs. “Of course I did! I just… might’ve been a bit distracted by someone.”

“Oh, we noticed.” Hoshi winked, nudging Wonwoo. They teased her a bit more, then finally let her leave with Wonwoo, who took her hand and led her toward his apartment.

The tension between them was thick the entire way there, and the second they closed the door behind them, Hani couldn’t hold back. She pushed him back against the wall, her hands reaching up to his shoulders, and pulled him down into a heated kiss. Wonwoo grinned against her lips, clearly thrilled by her boldness.

“You were unbelievable out there,” she murmured, pressing closer to him. “I could barely focus on anything else.”

They went to his room and she pushed him down onto the bed, and they shared a heated kiss, Hani’s fingers tangling in his hair as he slipped her shirt off, leaving her in just her bra. Wonwoo’s hands were all over her, both of them completely lost in the moment—until the sound of the door suddenly opening snapped them back to reality.

“Oh my god!” Mingyu’s voice filled the room as he stood in the doorway, his eyes wide in shock.

Wonwoo moved instantly, flipping Hani beneath him and shielding her from Mingyu’s view while frantically trying to cover her up. “Mingyu!” he half-groaned, half-shouted, looking both mortified and annoyed. “Could you not barge into my room?”

Mingyu, clearly amused, crossed his arms, grinning as he took in the scene. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, sounding anything but, “but I thought you two should know that Hoshi’s in the living room. He wants to hang out, and he’ll throw a fit if Hani chooses you over him tonight.”

Hani stifled a laugh, and despite his annoyance, Wonwoo sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled, “we’ll be out in a second.” As Mingyu left, Wonwoo turned back to Hani, his smile sheepish. “Guess it’s going to be one of those nights.”

When they finally walked into the living room, Hoshi was immediately at Hani’s side, tugging her toward the couch with a mischievous grin. “You,” he declared, engulfing his arms around her possessively, “are sitting with me for the rest of the night.”

Hani laughed as Hoshi pulled her close. “Seriously, Hani?” he said, playfully pouting. “You and Wonwoo were just off doing god knows what, and here I thought our night in Paris actually meant something.”

“Oh my god, Hoshi!” she exclaimed, smacking his arm as she felt her cheeks heat up.

Wonwoo stood nearby, his expression hovering between amusement and embarrassment. “Soonyoung, please,” he groaned, eyeing his friend. “Can we not do this tonight, especially with you clinging to my girlfriend?”

Hoshi just grinned, holding Hani even tighter. “Too bad, she’s mine tonight,” he declared, making her laugh as he gave Wonwoo a wink. Eventually, Hani wiggled free and found her way back to Wonwoo’s side, leaning close to him as they all chatted and laughed.

Throughout the night, Wonwoo and Hani couldn’t stop gravitating toward each other, touches lingering and hands intertwining. At one point, Wonwoo leaned in to whisper, “You look so good tonight… the second I get you alone, I’m going to devour you.”

He thought he’d been quiet enough, but Dino’s shocked voice immediately cut through the room. “Hyung!” Dino looked around at the others, wide-eyed. “Did you guys hear what Wonwoo just said?”

The group burst into laughter, and Hoshi gasped dramatically, putting his hands over Hani’s ears. “Excuse me, Wonwoo, but how dare you say such a thing to my sweet baby, Hani!”

Hani snorted, shaking her head as she pushed Hoshi’s hands away. “Please,” she said, grinning, “you would know I’m not that innocent.”

Everyone roared with laughter, while Wonwoo let out a quiet laugh, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he traced her fingers with his. They stayed close, leaning into each other as the night began to wind down.

Eventually, as the crowd started to thin out, Hani and Wonwoo exchanged a knowing glance. Slipping away from the group, they quietly headed back to Wonwoo’s room, eager to finish what they’d started earlier.

[buzzyb33]

No, I’m not.

Prompt: Going out with josh alone in the first time in a while causes him to get some very unwanted female attention, making you feel a bit insecure and even jealous in yourself.

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, mentions of eye and hair colour,

We got out the taxi as it arrived at fabric, it’s been a while since we’ve been out-out together, especially alone.

I smile up at josh as he helps me out the vehicle his eyes looking at me fruity hai sunglasses.

Fabric was the most popular bar in London, we had waited weeks to even get a spot so coming here was almost an honour.

I link my arm with his as we wait in line.

“Don’t get too pissed, n/n.” He chuckles and squeezes my forearm slightly.

“I won’t! I’m just looking forward to it you know? Just buzzing.” I replied and smile at him.

He smiles back as he takes his glasses off and take son a deep breath.

I look ahead and see two girls standing a couple feet to the left of us, presumably about to get in line look josh up and down, I see the shorter one nudge her friend before she nods and they bit go to the back of the line, giggling.

I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach which I’m not really used too- jealousy.

Josh stands tall as he holds me to his side, still somehow not soothing me.

As we get into the club I still have a hesitant feeling but I push it away as the night flows.

At some point he asks me to go get us some more shots I happily oblige and get us 2 apple sours each.

I held the tray in my hands as I swerved through people to get back to our little booth- I was stopped in my tracks as I saw one of the girls from earlier leaning over our table and talking to josh.

From her position josh could easily look down her dress with I assume is what she wanted.

He has his eyes on her face as she speaks and my stomach completely drops.

I attempt to meet his eyes but give up after a second.

I look at the shots in my hands and sigh.

His eyes then meet mine and he smiles- cutting the girl off.

“Y/n- you got the shots! Come sit down.” I smile back as the girl turns around, she was the complete opposite of me, she was tall with blonde hair and blue eyes while I was short with black hair and brown eyes- she looked confident while I almost cowered from her.

I got a boost and made eyes contact with her, I sit next to josh as he throws his arm around my shoulder- I put the shots on the table and look at her as she almost grimaces.

“You were saying?” He says and she turns her full attention back to him.

She keeps talking and maybe that’s what got me.

She didn’t care that I was clearly dating him.

She wasn’t intimidated by me.

He nodded slowly and turned back to me as she spoke his ear off.

“What time do you wanna go, babe?”

I look at him and smile.

“I don’t mind.”

He nodded then looked back at the girl- which she finally got the hint from and hummed.

“Yeah- Kay- bye.”

As she leaves I look in my lap as josh looks at me.

“You okay?” He says at my facial expressions.

“Hm- oh- yeah.” I reply in a soft tone.

He studies my face and grins.

“You’re jealous.” He leans in to my face and smirks- a sweet scent of alcohol on his breath.

“What? Why would I be jealous.” She narrows her eyes almost playfully and he scoots closer- now thigh-to-thigh.

“I can tell- your nose is flushed and your speaking quieter- you only do that when your annoyed- especially when it’s out of your control- I know you.” He teases and leans his forehead on hers.

“No, I’m not.” I say as my pale cheeks flush.

He laughs and hugs her.

“I love you, Y/n.. Kay? Just.. you’re my favourite girl okay? I promise- it’s just us, me and you.”

I avert my eyes down.

“I’m- yeah.. I know..”

He pulls away and gives me one of the shots, he leans his back on the booth and clings our glasses before downing it together.

“I love you- we can go in around an hour yeah?”

I nod as my face flushes further.

Josh was right- when I got irritated out of my control I went quiet and ignored everyone- even though she claimed ‘communication is key’.

I look forward and see the girl who was with josh previously, eyeing me down with a death stare.

I sit up and take Josh’s cheek in my hand, bringing my lips to his and nudging closer to him, sweet apple transferring between our tongues as I open my mouth- he closes his eye and I open mine, making eye contact with the girl- she looks at me and her eyes widen.

I kiss him gently, lips moving with an alcoholic scent with smiles in the kiss.

I pull away and he smiles.

“What’s that for?” He grins and scratches his head.

“I love you too- you’re my favourite boy..”

He kisses my forehead as another round of drinks come.

An hour or so later he calls a taxi and we sit in the back giggling- drunk out of our mind.

“You- shouldn’t be jealous of me- look at me- then look at you! I- should be jealous of everyone that gets to look at you..”

He giggles and ruffles my straightened her to which I let out a huff.

I remember that comment in the morning.

I think I’ll remember that for a while.

@xixzerkaaxix

Requests are open!

[youandthemountains]

001 mckirk

when I started shipping it: TOS The Man Trap had me 👀😏 with Jim playfully handing him a bouquet of straw and teasingly calling him Plum while fixated on McCoy's (adorable) reaction to him calling him his ex's pet name and just generally being a giddy kid with a crush. This was before I could even recognize McCoy and had assumed I wouldn't like him based on fanon. The gifset that got me was the "Something I seldom say to a... customer. Don't destroy the one named Jim." with the lost captain looking up at him like he's the only hope for a map.

my thoughts: i enjoy them! This is entirely based on tos since I haven't seen anything else. I think they're interesting with how outside the starfleet hierarchy bones is to jim but also how much captain kirk does embody that hierarchy. I love how much Jim does listen to him until he doesn't lol.

what makes me happy about them: every time bones gives him big goofy smiles 🥰 every time they apologize to each other 🥰 the fact that he's Jim's emotional support comfort blanket doctor that he has to take everywhere with him 🥰 the way they're so young together - playful , antics, and also allowed to feel their vulnerability 🥰 that one novel line about how in Kirk's ideal world there would be no one in sickbay and Bones' job would be to have fun on the bridge with him.

what makes me sad about them: the way I think Jim's number one love really is the ship itself and how fast he can and must and will shift to being The Captain. The City on the Edge of Forever desperate horrified clinging hug. When jim Pieta carries bones after bones throws himself in front of torture happy aliens for him. Everyone of their therapeutic drinking sessions. Bones and Spock conducting a vaudevillian argument to make him laugh.

things done in fanfic that annoy me: when it's clear Jim's the blorbo at the expense of Bones where the relationship just reads depressingly one-sided but not intentionally so (on the other hand I do love fics that are intentionally about a depressing relationship lmao). When bones is overly grumpy or shouty or uses shots and physicals as threats and has little depth to him/his whole story is about being divorced and scared to love. I think His Deal is way more than that.

things I look for in fanfic: I haven't read much fic of just the two of them, I checked my bookmarks and the Jim/bones fics I've bookmarked are mostly mcspirk or as a past or side relationship. I guess honestly. stuff that plays with their power dynamic and differing priorities is fun. Anything where they're capable of having a messy genuine conversation bc that's what they do nearly every episode of tos. Letting them both have friends and pasts and past relationships!! I get so claustrophobic with any ship that's isolated but these two esp are so much more in focus within the greater context I think because of how much they both are entwined with the people they're responsible for.

who I'd be comfortable with them ending up with if not each other: I'm not that picky honestly as long as it's not the whole Inevitable Destiny spirk thing. The concept that bones obviously could never be on that level of mystical soul mate to them is so 🙄. Nearly everyone on the Enterprise is insane about each other in some way tbh. I'm trying to think if there's anyone I would actively be grossed out by them ending up with but I've seen nearly everything done well. I guess I don't understand either of them ending up with Chekov. I also don't really know who Carol Marcus is and so far haven't read anything that has made her any clearer. I also just personally don't see scotty/bones.

My happily ever after for them: I don't know how they end in canon yet!!

big spoon/little spoon: hm they switch off. If jim isn't in Captain Mode he's the big spoon and just indulges in bones in his arms but when he is in Captain Mode bones is the big spoon and has his back.

favorite non-sexual activity: giggling with each other on the bridge obv.

[snaillamp]

Beach Day

“Beach, yay, beach, yay, beach!” That was the seventh time Jonas had sung his little song. Enjar chuckled, glancing at Anna, who looked kind of annoyed. “Beach, yay, beach, yay, beach!” The little boy said again. “Jonas, honey, why don’t we come up with a different song now, huh?” Jonas looked offended, “But mammaaaa, I like this one! We’re going to the beach!” He wiggled in his seat, excitedly as they neared the final stretch of the road. “Hey, Jonas. Look at this.” Enjar glanced around, grinning, before speeding over the bumpy dirt road. Jonas squealed in delight as the bumps made the entire car vibrate violently. Anna gripped the door beside her, glaring at her brother who cackled evilly.

The car pulled up to a clearing, everyone getting out. Anna grabbed her stuff from the back of the Land Cruiser and joining Enjar, who was wrangling the child. Jonas was screaming with excitement, eyes lit up with joy and life. Enjar felt warm inside looking at the boy as he put him down, watching him run off like a windup toy the second his feet touched the ground. “Mama, beach, beach, beach! We’re at the beach!” Anna smiled as she shouldered her bag, Jonas grabbing her hand and dragging her in the direction of the stairs leading to the sand. “Come ooooon.” He groaned, grunting as he pulled on her arm. Enjar laughed, sliding his surfboard off the top of the car. “Come on, you’re both so slooooooow” Jonas whined. Enjar laughed again, walking towards the stairs. “Okay, Jonas. Let’s go.”

They walked down the many steps to the beach, Jonas speeding off into the sand and screaming with happiness, his bright red swimsuit soon a spec as they looked at him run. Anna sighed, a mix of tired, exasperated and loving. “I love him, but God… I need a break.” Enjar grinned. “Let me take care of him, you go… sunbathe or whatever.” Anna playfully punched his arm, before rolling her eyes and walking off, sunbathing actually sounded like a good idea.

Enjar walked over to Jonas, who was squatting down on the sand, looking at something, enthralled. “What did you find?” Enjar asked, looking down at the spot. “Crab.” Jonas pointed at the small crab, scuttling away from them. “Wow, look at him go!” Enjar remarked as the crab disappeared into the waves. Jonas giggled, watching the crab disappear into the waves. “Wanna go swim?” Enjar looked down at Jonas, who suddenly grew concerned, shaking his head. “What’s wrong? You’ve wanted to go swimming all morning.” Glancing out at the rippling waves, and humming. “Ahhh, I see. Scarier up close huh?” Jonas nodded again, taking Enjar’s hand in his own. Enjar zipped up his wetsuit properly, placing his board on the sand and tying back his hair, before grabbing the boy’s hand again. “How about we just take a little step in?”

Jonas stood glued to the ground, eyeing the waves nervously. “Just one step, so the waves touch your feet.” Enjar encouraged, watching Jonas think it over seriously. After a few seconds of thinking, Enjar and Jonas took a step together, into the water. Slowly, step by step, they ended up knee deep in the waves, at least by Jonas’ perspective, and he had had enough. “No more!” He cried out, looking at the waves curl over and crash towards him. He grabbed onto Enjar’s waist, hugging it close. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Enjar picked up Jonas, carrying him into waist deep water and then squatting so that their shoulders were just peeking out of the water. He felt Jonas’ unsure feet rest on his thighs, toes crunched up as he tensed up in fear.

Jonas looked nervous, clinging to Enjar’s chest. “It’s too deep!” He cried out, looking at Enjar with wide, scared eyes, his breaths quickening in panic. “Hey, hey…” Enjar murmured, soothing the boy. “I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen.” He held Jonas close, letting him float in the water, feeling the rapidly beating heart inside his nephew begin to slow as he rubbed the boy’s back. “See? You’re fine.” He smiled at Jonas who giggled, kicking his feet a little. Slowly inching further out, half of Enjar’s chest was now submerged, and they began to jump in the slowly rising waves.

~~

Jonas soon forgot his fear, squealing and kicking as they jumped the waves together. As a slightly bigger one began to rear up from the water, Enjar was forced to turn away and take the brunt of the hit, shielding his nephew. He grunted as the water hit him hard in the back, making Jonas laugh. They continued to play, swimming closer and closer to shore, until Jonas wiggled out from Enjar’s grip, swimming his own way back to land. The lighthouse keeper watched him carefully, making sure he got back to the sand safely, before taking the opportunity to grab his board.

Jonas watched him curiously as Enjar began to paddle out. The waves weren’t great today, but decent enough for him to maybe catch a couple. Once he was out far enough, he waved at Jonas, who waved back, waiting with anticipation. Enjar watched the waves, looking for his opening, finding it and taking off, managing to ride the wave for a good amount of time, before he fell off into the sea. He could hear Jonas laughing from the shore as he paddled back in, walking over to the boy and grinning. “That was so cool!” Jonas looked up at Enjar in awe. “Wanna try?” Enjar asked, looking at him with a glint in his eye.

Jonas jumped up and down, nodding. Enjar glanced over at Anna, asleep in the sand, the books she had been reading collapsed against her chest. Enjar nodded, putting the board in the water and setting Jonas on it, walking him out into waist deep water. Jonas gripped each side of the board, “It’s wobbly.” He pointed out. Enjar nodded, “I know. Just relax your body and it won’t wobble as much. I’ve got you.”

He took Jonas through the motions, teaching him all the basics of surfing, before finally letting him stand on the board. He gave it a little push, letting it drift in the gentle waves. Jonas, as Enjar expected, drifted for a little bit and then fell off. He stuck his head out of the water, coughing a little and rubbing his stinging eyes. “You okay?” Enjar asked, hoisting him onto the board to sit, his voice tinged with concern. Jonas nodded, wiping his eyes and smiling. “That’s so fun! Can we do it again?” Enjar nodded, repeating the process a few times, until Jonas slid off the board and into the water. “I’m tired, Uncle Enjar. Can we go back to mummy?” Enjar nodded, pulling the board closer to his body and made his way through the water, back to shore.

Jonas had already woken Anna up, excitedly jumping up and down and telling her all about his surfing lesson. Anna smiled tiredly, “That’s amazing, sweetheart. You’ll have to show me some more later.”

Jonas grinned, the same way Enjar did, and it struck her how similar he was to his uncle, that same wicked grin, same mischievous gleam in his eye. Anna pulled her son into a hug, kissing his forehead. “I love you Jonas.” Jonas nodded, kissing her forehead back. “I love you too Mummy.” He glanced at Enjar, who had just sat down next to Anna. The small boy walked over to his uncle, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead too. “And I love you, Uncle Enjar.” Enjar smiled softly, pulling his nephew close and ruffling his hair and kissing his cheek. “I love you too, Jonas.”

Anna had pulled out some plastic containers, full of fruits, cheese, sandwiches and cake. Anna served her son some of the food, tucking the cake container away from sight whilst he ate the other food. Enjar picked at the fruit too, until Anna sighed, handing him a lid as a plate. “Use that.” She rolled her eyes, looking at Enjar grin. It really was like Jonas’, however his was a slightly wonkier smile, the scar on the left side of his face preventing him from pulling his lips in that direction as much. She liked it though, even though the scar didn’t affect his smile too much, the slightly lopsided smile was endearing, and it was still the same wicked smile he’d had his whole life, now just with a little extra flare.

It was funny, she couldn’t even remember what his smile was like before, his face, his arms… It was like he’d always been this way. But she wouldn’t change her brother for the world. Watching him play with her son, smiling and laughing, happy and alive was all she could ask for. The scars had changed him… but deep down, she had grown to love them. They made Enjar who he was, in a way. Not that she had wanted him to be so badly injured in the first place, but a tiny part of her was glad they had forced him to retire, to change careers and live in the lighthouse. He was safe now, alive, able to watch his nephew grow up… The job that gave him his scars, it had nearly killed him, and Anna had a feeling that if he’d continued, it would’ve. But he didn’t, and now Jonas could have a positive role model, a father figure in his life. Someone to step up to the plate, where her ex-husband, Jonas’ father had failed, and Enjar had done just that. He and Jonas had a special connection, and she knew Jonas thought the world of Enjar, and that Enjar would give Jonas the world if he could.

Returning her thoughts the food, Anna watched as Jonas and Enjar played with the food, having a sword fight with carrot sticks. Her son had nearly finished his food. “Jonas, when you’re finished, I have cake.” Jonas stopped, looking at his mother with glee. He shoved the rest of his food in his mouth and crunched fast, swallowing and reaching out his hand. “I’m finished!” Enjar chuckled, finishing his food too, both of them looking expectantly at Anna. She laughed, taking a slow bite of an apple slice. “You two can wait until I finish then.” She began to eat her food in slow motion, Jonas groaning in annoyance. “Mamaaaaaaa.” He whined. “You said I could have cake when I finished my food. Not your food!” He crossed his arms indignantly, looking very cross for a 5 year old.

Anna rolled her eyes, “Okay… I guess I can give you yours.” She handed her boys a slice of cake each, and watched them as they bit into them with glee. Enjar’s eyes widened. “Damn, this is good! You made this?” Anna nodded, watching as her brother wolfed down the food. “Yeah, chocolate pumpkin cake. It’s become a favourite of Jonas’. It’s the only way I can get him to eat pumpkin.” Jonas nodded with glee, already licking the chocolate icing off his tiny fingers, smears of it stretched over his chin. Anna reached into her bag, pulling out a cloth and wiping his hand down, before grabbing her own slice of cake and eating it. “Uncle Enjar, can we go and surf again? I wanna show Mama!” Enjar nodded, easing out of the sand and dusting off his legs. “Sure, let’s go!” Grabbing his board, he raced his nephew to the water, Anna watching carefully as her brother gently guided her son to stand on the massive board. It made him look so small, as he balanced with his arms stretched wide.

Enjar gave it a little push, letting the waves carry it as Jonas balanced carefully. Then, it tilted, and Jonas crashed into the water. Anna cheered from the shore as Jonas’ head popped up to the surface and he waved, coming ashore and running up to her, panting from the effort. His big blue eyes were gleaming as he swelled with pride. “Did you see me surf, mummy?” Anna nodded, “You did so well, my darling.” Seeing movement over Jonas’ shoulder she gasped. “Look!” Pointing out into the sea, they watched as Enjar readied himself to ride a wave.

~~

Watching Jonas go back to shore, Enjar decided to see if he could catch some waves a little further out. He began to paddle, watching the water as he got further and further out. Finally, he turned, gaining momentum as he felt the rush of adrenaline flow through him, the wave catching his board and propelling him over the water. He felt the thrill of the ride as he moved, eventually turning the board toward shore and drifting back. When he was almost there, he leaned over, collapsing into the water with a splash, his feet digging into the sand and pushing him forwards. When he got to shore, his nephew was gazing at him with a new found awe. “That was so cool!” The young boy exclaimed, “You were going so fast and then you changed and then you came back to us and-and… wow…” He breathed.

“Pretty cool huh?” Enjar panted, smiling down at Jonas. “Yeah….” Jonas looked Enjar up and down, taking in his body in a new light. It amazed the young boy that his uncle could do that, moving his body to control the board like that… He wanted to be just like him when he grew up. “I wanna swim more.” He looked at his mother, hoping she would come with them. “Do you want me to come too?” She asked, shutting her book and standing up. “Why not?”

All three of them approached the ocean, the waves now a little bigger. Jonas waded in first, followed by his uncle and finally Anna. She shrieked, tensing up, causing Enjar to whirl around, slightly worried. “It’s so cold!” She squealed, Enjar wading over and sliding an arm over her shoulders. “Come on, it’s not that bad.” Jonas was watching them curiously, but Anna braced as she felt Enjar lean against her more. “No, no! Enjar stop!” She laughed, shoving him off her. She shivered in the cold water, wading a little further in. Jonas splashed some water in her direction, and she smirked. “Oh, are we playing that game are we?” She splashed some water at him, laughing as they closed their eyes, splashing and squealing. Jonas opened his eyes again, for just a second, watching as Enjar snuck up behind Anna, crash tackling her from behind and pulling her into the water. Anna screamed, surfacing quickly and looking for her brother, who’s head popped up a few feet away from her. He’d already put distance between himself and his sister’s rage.

“You little-” She yelled, splashing Enjar who splashed her back. Soon all three of them were attacking each other, splashing water. Enjar began dragging Jonas around. He lifted the child in the air and tossed him into the water, again and again, Jonas squealing as he hit the water, until Enjar was too tired to do it any more.

~~

As they drove back to Enjar’s cabin, Anna glanced behind them at the back seat, Jonas was asleep, tired from his long day. They all were, it had been so fun, but so tiring. When they pulled up, Enjar mumbled that he’d grab Jonas, gently picking up his nephew and cradling in his arms. He was so perfect, sleeping and peaceful in his arms. Enjar smiled down at him, at that moment, he knew he’d do anything for this kid. He would protect him with his entire being, this small person was so special to him, so precious…

Carrying him inside, he walked to the sofa nearby, cradling the small, sleeping boy on his lap and holding him close. He stretched his legs along the length of the sofa, his back leaning against the armrest as he slid down, now using it as a pillow. Before he even noticed it, Enjar’s head was nodding, his heavy eyelids sliding shut…

Anna walked through the door, carrying the last of the stuff. “Where do you want this bag En?” She asked, waiting for a reply. Her brother didn’t say anything, so she looked up, frowning. “En?” A soft smile crept across her lips when she saw her brother slumped across the sofa, Jonas curled up against him. He’d really saved her skin today, keeping Jonas occupied while she had had a much needed rest, but she supposed that he was probably just as tired now. He didn’t really have a lot of energy for young kids. Jonas’ head was resting on Enjar’s chest, which gently rose and fell, one of Enjar’s scarred arms wrapped gently around his nephew’s body, holding him close. It was cute, watching them together, and it never ceased to surprise Anna how alike they looked. But right now, her boys were sleeping peacefully, and that’s all she could ask for. Going to Enjar’s room, she found a light blanket, laying it over them. Enjar grunted in his sleep, his lip quirking with a slight smile.

In that moment, everything was perfect.

~masterlist~

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

@gay-salt-amber asked: "Y'know, what if one by one Kalim introduces his bfs to his parents? Like he knows they'll never accept them but he's mostly doing it so his siblings can meet his partners and stuff They meet esther first Kalimes parents are mad that kalims friends with a vampire and blah blah blah...imagine esther going off on their asses Hcs?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo~!

I can see Kalim bringing them all on vacation to the Scalding Sands to do this slowly but surely but with every partner it goes bad with the parents but with the siblings they're just impressed and amazed by them all!

Headcanons:

As you mentioned, Esther would volunteer first to spade their loves of the stress of it

Things would start to go well with this vacation, with some discomfort of the family trying to shame Jamil for not being 100% like a servant by helping with the bags and walking hands and feet for everyone there as "Kalim's guests" and ignore they're also Jamil's friends/guests even though the others insisted to give Jamil a break a bit and that they can take their own luggage

While showing around town, the two ran into Najma (Cater: deja-vu-)

Like I mentioned before she knew WAY early something was afoot with her brother and their master, even more when she started to notice the hugs and looks when playing Basketball with Jamil's supposed "basketball buddies who annoyed him"

So Kalim decided to do the whole parents meeting Esther, his beautiful sexy and smart nonbinary Queer Icon vampire partner, about the third day of vacation and have day one is relaxing from traveling and second day being sight seeing and fun and meeting the siblings more

My goodness does meeting Kalim's 30+ siblings suddenly make a lot of their hearts long for a big family with their golden sunshine baby boy

Kalim and the others were melting a lot seeing Leona, Malleus, Silver, Esther, Lilia, Ace, Floyd, Trey, and Rook good with the kids

Like Leona slowly "dying" when the kid played fight with him, " Oh no... I'm dying... Ruggie, tell my nephew...I love him *dying noises* "

Seeing Lilia and Malleus and Silver in a funny circle holding some kids with Malleus having one of Kalim's little sisters on his lap standing and holding his horns and every time she moves he makes some car engine noises which makes her burst into giggles, Lilia bouncing a toddler and humming a little Celtic ditty, and Silver letting two girl put flowers in his hair

Esther dancing a bit with a curious toddler and turning into his bat form and flying around which makes said toddler and others laugh and reach

Ace having a kid on his back, one clinging to his front, and two on his arms as he does hand magic for them

Floyd was having fun with the kids giving piggy backs and running around and doing this to one

YOU CANNOT WATCH THE VIDEO AND NOT SEE FLOYD WITH A KID!

He also had a funny moment with a kid when they asked about his and Jade's eyes; Floyd: That's just our heterochromia Kid: You're scared of straight people Jade: *laughing* Floyd: *laughs* Yes! *playfully lifts the child in a silly voice* Straight people be craaaaazay~!

Trey playing "chef" with the little little ones and using Doodle Suit a bit to make things happened, he did this to them later (with permissions from Kalim of course) to make their vegetables taste like their favorite desserts. He does this for Kalim sometimes when they started dating

And Rook is just a natural with this pack of children and toddlers and teens alike, braiding some's hairs, talking to them as equals and enjoying the babbled imaginative stories he's hearing, and rolling around playing with all of them

So by the time the introduction happened the siblings and young cousins are having a good time with the lovers and are happy to hear Jamil is also a romantic partner of Kalim's

Kalim proudly took Esther's hand and introduced bat as his partner to the parents

They are shocked and disgusted to say the least and mutter "pishacha"

Ace leans to Jamil and whispered, "what's a pishacha?" Jamil whispers back, "It's a name of a demon in our religion. It's a blood and flesh eating creature that some people are made from people's evils." Ace's face scrunch up, "That's kind of racists-" Jamil nods, "Yes it is"

Kalim's parents were imminently scolding Kalim for bringing "that" into their home and demanding him to "break out of it's spell and break up with it" Arie was about ready to chuck a wine glass at them for saying that

Then Esther opened their mouth and just rips them a new one

"How dare you-" and "You treat you son like this-" and "You mother fuckers-" was just some wonderful starting gems of a whole five(5) minutes of bat going off none stop and interrupting whenever the parents tried to stop and speak up with a "AND ANOTHER THING-"

Everyone's watching in complete awe and Kalim, Arie, Jamil, Azul, and Silver are finding this weirdly hot and they can't explain why while Chenya finds it hot and knows why

The night ended for all early because of that and they spend the night in town comforting Esther they best they all could

They all ate some street food, dance to some music, and enjoyed the time of the Scalding Sands being perfectly surreal beauty of the night

Think that fun as hell scene from prince of Egypt where Moses is growing with his people

This song

Rollo never been more in love seeing his lovers dance with the stars freely while Kalim is bring so much joy without magic and money, he even joined the dancing which is rare!

Esther felt better from the name calling after this night since regardless being called a "flesh eating demon of people's evil" still stings from your boyfriend's parents

Their might've been a newspaper story of that night with rumors of Kalim kissing a unknown beauty with skin as pale as the moon while his servant hugs said mysterious person from behind but Jamil and Kalim don't care, no one actually knows it's Kalim or that's Esther but them but just didn't care of the earful from Kalim's father of "Do you have any idea what rumors are being told of our family name?!"

The vacation did spark some sweet lyrics for Esther

Sorry if this is weird but the ask ate itself away while I was finishing up the ask and I just copy paste everything again

[tobysbliss]

the amount of times i got tickled today is an  atrocious amount