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traveler-at-heart · 6 months ago

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Live, Love, Natalie Rushman

Summary: Based on a request by @lynattyx - Natasha and R meet when she's working undercover at Stark Industries.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Live Love Legal

The sign was meant to be a graduation joke, but you still placed it on a shelf in your very serious, very corporate office.

Even now, as you were promoted to Senior Associate -the youngest at Stark Industries- and you had a bigger space, with a breathtaking view of Central Park and Midtown Manhattan.

It was your first day, and you were determined to make things right. Top of the list, onboarding Miss Potts’ new paralegal assistant. Your secretary (holy crap, you had a secretary!) had called to informed you she was waiting at the front desk.

“Natalie?” you called, imagining the woman with red hair and black slacks was the new assistant.

Though, you were not prepared for the sight that greeted you when she turned around, striking green eyes and a perfect smile in place.

“You must be Y/N”

The way her raspy voice caressed every syllable of your name almost made you weak in the knees.

But this was work, and you couldn’t lose your shit over the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

“Yes. Come with me, I’ll show you around”

Pleased with the firmness of your voice, you gave Natalie a tour of the office, pointing at different areas where most meetings took place. You also showed her where to find the information of everyone she might need to contact, and then you went up to Pepper’s office. The short elevator ride was littered with small talk, and you considered a success how your cheeks flushed only once.

“Come in” Pepper said and you opened the door, Natalie right behind you. “Y/N, happy first day as an associate. And you must be Natalie Rushman”

After a brief introduction, you were ready to leave both women to work.

“If you need anything, just let me know” you said to Natalie before going back to your office.

“Anything?” she said with a small smile. Perhaps it was all in your head, or the woman had really managed to make the question sound… loaded.

“Of course” you said, heat going to your cheeks.

Once the elevator doors were shut, you leaned against the wall, wondering if you’d imagined Natalie’s parfume still lingering in the air.

Maybe that sign at your office should read Live Love Lesbian instead.

—

It had been a week - a busy, insane week- but Natalie hadn’t needed your help with anything. While you wanted to feel relief, because you had enough on your plate, you were actually disappointed. Those green eyes and that beautiful voice would not leave your thoughts.

To your displeasure, you weren’t the only one.

“Tony” you said, feeling a headache as you entered your office first thing in the morning and saw him behind your desk, feet up.

“Y/N. How’s the new job going?”

“It would be better if you gave the government some information about those suits. But I will say I love my new parking space”

“Right! New is good” he agreed, not moving from your chair. “Like that new girl. Natalie Rushmore…”

“Rushman” the headache intensified.

“Right, whatever. Isn’t she good?”

“Ask Pepper”

“I mean I did, and she told me to stop before I did anything that might get me sued for harrassment”

“Pepper’s right. You can’t go around sleeping with your employees”

“I was only flirting” he spun around and you had enough, finally kicking him so he’d stand up. “I was never inappropriate to you, right?”

“That’s because I’m gay, Tony”

“And do you think Natalie might be…?” you glared at the man and he was quick to explain. “I hear there’s a sixth sense involved in the whole experience”

“Leave before I throw you out the window, Stark”

“You’re no fun” he complained, winking as he shut the door to your office.

—

The next time you saw Natalie was as you prepared a meeting with new VC investors and the board.

“I need you to place the NDAs in the binder that we’re sending to legal…” Pepper said and Natalie stopped walking. The sudden halt made you turn your attention. It wasn’t hard to understand what that look meant. She had forgotten. Pepper insisted. “You did send the NDAs, right?”

The hardness of her tone made you flinch, and you spoke before thinking about what could happen.

“Actually… I asked Natalie to hold off on that. I wanted to double check the IP section but completely forgot about it. I’m sorry, Pepper”

“Ok, it’s fine” the woman said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just make sure it’s ready before the presentation”

You nodded, and turned to walk down the hall to find the documents. Natalie followed right behind you, and you almost didn’t hear the quiet thank you she whispered your way.

“Don’t mention it”

Truly, you had forgotten all about it by the next day, until you found a latte waiting at your desk.

It was exactly how you took it, and you were very particular about your coffee.

“How…?” you wondered out loud.

“I notice things” Natalie said from the doorway. You flinched, amazed at how stealth she could be.

“And you’re silent. Like a ninja. Or a spy” you drank again, chuckling at the ridiculous comparison. “You didn’t have to, I didn’t do anything”

“This job is very important so it does mean something to me, Y/N”

The way she said your name had you blushing, so you nodded and thanked her.

“Have you noticed the bar around the subway station?” you asked as she turned to leave. “Great food, pool table. It’s fun, if you ever want to stop by”

“Oh, you don’t want to play pool against me” she warned and you chuckled.

And yet, the next week you were both there, eating and drinking past midnight. Natalie wasn’t kidding when she said her aim was impeccable and when you lost the third game in a row, you admitted defeat and offered to buy her coffee and a scone of her choice the day after that.

That’s how it became a bit of a habit, to buy coffee for two on certain mornings. If you knew Natalie had an early morning, you’d be the one to drop off a steaming cup of espresso with a danish scone.

Sometimes, you’d find a cup from the cafe around the corner, your name and a smile srcibbled across it.

You were working overtime to convince yourself that you did not have feelings for her. That the nights at the bar, the coffee or lunch time you spent together was nothing more than a friendship.

Until one night, when you were both working late. Your desk was a mess of scattered paperwork, all thanks to Tony’s idiotic actions. Pepper was the new CEO of Stark Industries while he made mess after mess.

“God, I hate him” you read a complaint filed by the police against Tony, who had gotten drunk and worn his suit during his birthday party.

There was also another thing that bothered you about that night. The memory of Natalie, all laughs and flirty eyes as Tony showed her how the suit worked.

You hadn’t realised how hard you were biting the pen until Natalie called your name.

“You have ink all over your lip” she said with a smile and you brought a hand to your mouth, the liquid leaving a bitter taste.

“Oh my God, is the ink toxic? Am I gonna die?” you panicked, looking around for a napkin. Natalie giggled, approaching with a hankerchief.

“It’s fine. Here” the redhead leaned forward, and you blushed as her soft hands cleaned your lower lip. Natalie held your chin between her thumb and index finger, satisfied with the result.

“Thanks” you said, unable to keep your eyes from going to her lips. The action wasn’t lost on Natalie, and before you could apologize, she leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

“Now you have ink too” you said, laughing at the small stain on her lip. She smiled against your mouth, but the happinness was short lived as an explosion made you look outside. “Wow. What the hell was that?" you said, turning around.

It looked like drones were chasing after an Iron Man suit. Natalie grumbled and stood up.

"I have to go"

"Nat?" you followed her down the hallway.

The woman was gone, an apologetic look on her eyes as the elevator doors shut.

—

No calls, no messages, nothing. Not even an email.

You asked IT to keep her account active, just in case.

It had been a whole year; and maybe time to give up hope.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Natalie had disappeared right after Vanko had tried to kill Tony. Maybe she’d gotten hurt and someone was covering it up?

Whatever it was, the few times you asked Tony about it, he seemed irritated and quickly changed the subject.

And yet, here you were, still looking for answers, resisting the urge to give up on someone who had, for all intents and purposes, ghosted you.

You sighed, turning to look out the window of your office.

Imagine your shock when you saw a fleet of alien ships flying around New York City.

—

Natasha’s eyes were trained on Stark Tower. Were you there? Had you been able to get somewhere safe?

“Romanoff” Rogers called and she looked around.

“Need a lift” she said, creating a plan. All she had to do was take a small detour to your office and then she’d kick Loki’s stupid ass.

However, as she threw the alien off his own ship, she looked around and realised there was no easy way to land.

“Oh, God!” you shouted as a ship crashed through your window. To your surprise, instead of a weird looking creature, it was being flown by…

“Natalie?” you practically screamed, sure that you were having a fever dream.

“Come on, there’s no time. Let’s take you somewhere safe…”

“The whole city is under attack, that’s kind of impossible right now” you yelled, following her closely. “And what the hell is going on with you? Where have you been? And why are you dressed like that?”

It was hard not to notice the tight unitard that adjusted perfectly to every curve in her body.

“Watch out!” the woman said, pushing you aside. She rounded the corner, preparing her guns and shooting against the aliens. Turning casually to you, she spoke in a calm demeanor, as if discussing what movie to watch. “Would you like the short or long story, detka?”

“I don’t think we have time for long stories, Natalie. Is your real name even Natalie?”

“Well, it’s Natasha Romanoff so… close enough?” she said with a weak smile and you glared.

An arrow flew by and Natasha cursed under her breath. You understood why a second later when an explosion shook the building.

“Clint! I’m at Stark Tower, do not engage!” Natasha held a hand to her ear, speaking through comms. She then turned to you and smiled, leading you by the hand to the emergency stairs. “Where were we?”

“Natasha Romanoff. I guess you’re not a paralegal either… oh my God!” you yelled as you spotted a giant green creature coming up the stairs.

“Hulk, Rogers needs back up” Natasha said, completely unfazed by the monster. “Come here” she asked, taking you to a hallway.

“Nat, a bunch of crazy shit is happening and you’re not losing your mind”

“Well, there’s your next answer. I’m a former assassin, born and raised in Russia. Now a SHIELD agent” once the coast was clear, she made you stand up and follow her to the conference room. “I was working undercover to get some info about Tony’s stupid ass. And then I met you. I was about to ask you out on a date because I like you, but the mission was over and I was instructed not to engage again”

“You like me?” you repeated, ignoring the explosions around the city.

“Out of all the things I just said, that’s the one you’re sticking with?”

“Well, duh. Because I like you too” you smiled, pulling her closer for a kiss.

“Now’s not the time” a metallic voice said. You turned to find Tony floating outside the window and you glared. “I was called for an extraction”

“What?”

“Come on, it’s not safe here. Tony will get you out and I’ll meet you once this is over, ok?”

“You better not disappear on me again, Natasha Romanoff”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” she promised.

Once Tony carried you to a safe part of the city, you waited for him to put you down and remove his helmet to slap the back of his head.

“Why?”

“I asked you about her a million times, Tony. You could have told me why she left so suddenly”

“Now you know. I’ll get you a nice restaurant reservation to make up for it. Gotta go!”

As he flew away, you couldn’t help but smile.

Natasha liked you back.

—

Dust settled and emergency services began to approach the city, aiding with evacuation. Your eyes searched Natasha’s as you walked around.

“Detka”

“Are you ok?” running up to her, you brought your hands to her face. She had a small cut in her forehead and seemed tired, but she was alive.

“Yeah. It was fun”

“Fun? I hope our date doesn’t include this type of fun.”

The woman laughed and pulled you close to her.

"Alien invasions are a six month anniversary kind of thing" she joked. You laughed, but kept your eyes on her cut, looking concerned. “I’m ok, really. Nothing a shower won’t fix”

“How about a kiss?” you offered and she smiled, leaning forward to meet your lips; it was short and sweet. A promise of more to come.

“Let’s go back to my place” you said and Natasha’s eyes widened. “For you to shower. Clean that cut, get some sleep. And then, we’ll talk about that date”

“You have yourself a deal”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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ciy0 · 11 months ago

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☆*:.｡.FANCALL.｡.:*☆

Summary - Like many idols Mingyu dreaded fancalls, well that was until you were on the other side.

Word Count - 2.7k

Content Warnings - 18+ Slight Sexual Language [2 be safe], Fluff, Shy/Cute! Y/n, Love At First Sight?, Sneaky! Mingyu, The Sparks Are Flying, Mingyu thinks Y/n is Adorable, Slight Innapropriate Dynamic with Fan & Idol, NDA Mentioned, Short Hair!Mingyu Appreciation, Hoshi Cameo, Mingyu gets Bricked Up lol, Shameless Flirting

a/n - this is the least dark thing i’ve written so far and it still got a lil something something but it’s very cute and short hair mingyu is indeed my favorite

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

Mingyu believed he had the coolest job in the world. Honestly, being able to make music with his twelve best friends and travel the world was something out of a storybook. And his mother ingrained in him from a young age to always be grateful for the wonderful opportunities presented to him throughout his life. But with all the positives that came with being a successful and attractive idol there were many negatives that he tried his best to take in stride. Stalkers, calls from saesangs all throughout the night, rude staff, endless schedules, extreme diets and that was just to name a few. But one took the cake out of all of them—fancalls.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved meeting carats more than anything in the world; accepting their sweet comments while trying to make their experience worth while in the short time allotted. Most were so kind, humorous and creative, it was always so fascinating getting to see how many different types of people Seventeen’s music reached even after all this time. But just like the duality of life there were fancalls that went so horribly it unfortunately made him dread doing them at all. Whether it went from brazen fans demanding him to strip, asking him uncomfortable questions, to hurling insults at him for not remembering them from a fan meet over 3 years ago. It really could be so draining, not knowing what type of person would be on the other side of the call but he had to do it—and with a smile.

“Bye~ love youuu,” He waved as he ended the facetime with a fan from Australia. It wasn’t one of the worst ones but the constant ‘Oppa Will you marry me please?’ question was starting to get on his nerves, the forced cute tone just making it worse. Expertly he kept swerving around the question but she was quite persistent. The timer for the call was his saving grace as he threw his head back in a deep groan no longer having to deal with the irritating fan. ‘Just one more’ he thought. One more then he could call it a night and go to sleep. He took a deep breathe just in time to prepare himself to greet the next fan.

“Hello-“ He tilted to look back down at the phone screen to check the name and—Oh? Well for starters what a pretty thing you were. “Hello…Y/n?” Voice raising at the end, checking his pronunciation.

You smiled brightly at him trying to hide the little squeak you made before nodding and greeting him back enthusiastically, “Oh my gosh, Mingyu hi!”

Many fans somehow found ways to constantly win the fancalls or fanmeets but he was confident that he’d never seen you at even a concert. With a face like that even with his bad memory he’d be sure to remember. Your face already enough to give him the boost of energy he so desperately needed.

He found himself reflecting your sweet smile at your excitement, “Is this your first fancall?”

You bit your lip softly before nodding, “Y-yeah, I’m sorry i’m just so overwhelmed right now. I’ve been a fan for so many years.” You expressed earnestly.

He couldn’t stop his tongue from lightly grazing against the bottom of his canines as he watched your plush lips. “Yeah?,” He gazed back up at your eyes, “ I’m honored, thank you for your continuous love and support…Who’s your favorite?” He asked cheekily.

You laughed in your hand at that, “You of course.” you lowered your hand as you felt a bit more comfortable to express yourself, remembering the short time for the calls despite all you wanted to say, “I had always been into kpop but Seventeen was always the most special group to me. Your music reminds me of youth and freedom and the love you all have for each other warms my heart. Watching you guys grow and flourish literally is my pick me up in life. I ended up falling for your charms seeing you take care of your members, i love your big heart! I was lucky enough to win this fancall so I just wanted to say this all from the bottom of my heart. Also your short hair is beautiful!” You ended passionately hoping you properly conveyed your emotions. You had been practicing this for over a week.

He couldn’t help the dazed smile that took over his features. Your words technically weren’t anything new. He had heard some variation in the hundreds of calls up to this point but something about yours was just different. The back of his neck slowly warming at the thought of little ole you watching over Seventeen (him) this whole time.

He thanked you sincerely again as he sneakily snuck his hand across the table to turn off the impending timer—he wanted more time with you. Hopefully you couldn’t see the little imaginary devil horns adorning his head at his little scheme.

“ Where do you live?” He asked pointedly. He watched your brows slightly raise at the sudden inquiry,” Your window—,” He pointed behind you,” It looks about the same time of day as it is for me… are you close by Korea?”

He knew at this point things were slowly heading down a road that was hardly appropriate to engage in with a sweet little fan like yourself but he felt the risk was worth. It wasn’t everyday he got to meet a girl as enthralling as you. I mean how could he not, those beautiful eyes taking him in like that, your sincere words and admiration—he may be an idol but he was still just a man at the end of the day. A weak man.

“O-oh” You looked back at your window before turning around, “Well right now, I’m actually in Korea—like as we speak. I’m here for work. I think it’s been about two weeks already…”

Korea you say? The next words slipped out before he could even catch himself, too busy examining your features. “Modeling?” As if it was a no-brainer.

You threw your head back in laughter at that but he didn’t get what was so funny. Seeing that he was expectantly waiting for an answer you wiped your stray tear and responded.

“No, no model over here but i’m working on a TV production set for a company is Seoul”

Oh? You’re in Seoul too. He’s in Seoul…and he doesn’t believe in coincidences. Don’t you think—things are aligning too perfectly?

“Such a stunning face like that behind the camera,” He whines playfully, “It’s a crime!”

His face lights up at your bashful giggle at his compliment, it made him feel on top of the world. Even though this was your fancall he just needed to know more, and flatter you more, hoping you wouldn’t catch on that the timer would’ve gone off minutes ago. Afraid that piece of information would scare you off.

“Your boyfriend back home must be missing you right now then, “ he continued shamelessly, eyes hanging low waiting for your reply.

Your eyes shifted feeling a little hot under his unwavering gaze, “It’s okay, I d-don’t have one anyways” You twiddled your thumbs.

“Yeah? You don’t need one anyways though, right? Cause I’m your favorite, “ He jokingly stated.

It took you a beat before you caught the teasing joke, not confirming nor denying. Mingyu often playfully teasing fans for looking at other men wasn’t anything new. But in those videos he’d be sporting his signature pout but right now he was completely fixated on you, mouth slightly ajar in wonder. You felt your chest get hot briefly feeling so small in the presence of a cunning wolf. You reflexively went to check the time on your phone—

“Right, Y/n?” Your breathe caught hearing your name come from his lips for the second time that day. You forgot your name was even displayed on the screen let alone expecting to hear it again, especially like that.

Mingyu wanted an answer, and he wanted you to stop checking the time on your damn phone. His eyes like a puppy’s reading “pay attention to me”.

“Of course Mingyu,” you conceded demurely, forgetting your train of thought. “You’re the golden standard honestly. There’s a inside joke amongst Carats that God made you as an apology for men haha and i can’t help but think there must be some truth to that” You said matter of factly knowing how much he loved when fans stroked his ego and just how true it was. The handsome smile you received from that was damn near blinding but as a fan it was a dream to make your idol happy and tell him the truths about himself that he deserved to hear. He was handsome, kind, talented and all of the above.

You were so cute—fuck. He had been privy to that little joke a couple months back, constantly being heralded for all his green flags he had as a potential boyfriend or husband but he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty at hearing them from you. Because he knew he was failing miserably at stopping the nasty thoughts of him doing naughty things to the beautiful Carat he had the pleasure of meeting at that moment.

“Earlier” He started softling shaking his head out of those images,” You said you liked my short hair— which one do you like most? If you had to choose, Long or short?” He didn’t want to come off sleazy with the constant flirting and possibly make you uncomfortable so he went back to earlier in the conversation to lighten the tension. Maybe it’d help with tightness currently in his sweatpants.

He expected you to struggle before ultimately landing on long hair like everyone else would answer but your quick and confident reply of “Short” caught him off guard.

He ran a hand through his cut locks subconsciously. You were the first to say that. He liked his short hair too but it seemed like most of fans didn’t and made sure to let him know. He knew they didn’t mean harm by it but your heartfelt validation made his ears redden against his tan skin.

“Really?” His eyebrows raised before grinning childishly, “You’re not just saying that?”

You mirrored his grin, “Your long hair fits you very well but short really is my favorite. Hmm,” You tapped your chin in thought, “ You look more pretty and soft with long hair but God you look so manly and sexy with it short like a firefighter. And with your big arms and-”

You glanced back down absentmindedly just to see his shocked expression before covering your face up in embarrassment. You did not mean to say all of that out loud, worried you might’ve made him uncomfortable with your involuntary tangent.

“And?” He leaned forward head in hands tilted teasingly, “Big arms and what Y/n?”

You peeked through your fingers, “Well you know, y-you take good care of yourself and it shows.” You promptly closed your fingers again.

He chuckled at your cute antics, heart squeezing painfully, wishing he was there to pry your hands from your pretty face and get all up in your bubble.

“So you like manly looking men huh?, “ He leans back naturally spreading his legs under the table—though you couldn’t see, “I’ll keep that in mind.” For some reason when you talked about his body like that it didn’t make him feel awkward or objectified like in the past with other fans. Quite the opposite, it excited him. Were you thinking dirty thoughts about him too? God he wanted to hear them.

A ring from your side of the call rung out causing you to curse lightly before looking at him again, previous shyness leaving. You ordered food almost 20 minutes ago?! You hadn’t realized the time flew so fast talking to Mingyu. But why didn’t the timer go off? Before you could question him the restless delivery driver banged on your door.

“Mingyu it was so nice finally meeting you,” You started to get up, your smooth thigh coming into focus causing him to bite his lip and discreetly shift his leg to hide his erection, “My foods at the door so I have to go-“

“No don’t goooo,” he pouted ,” I’ll wait right here so go and quickly bring it back yeah?” He gave you his best pleading eyes, he didn’t want the call to end, at least not yet.

You pulled down your lounging dress slightly before nodding and swiftly heading off the screen, a slight “coming!” heard in the background.

He tapped away on his phone patiently waiting for you to return until he heard a knock on his door. Turning back he saw Hoshi’s head pop out.

“Bro you’re still not done?” Hoshi glanced around the room, “Everyone’s heading home soon, you need to wrap it up before management notices”

Mingyu held his hands in a begging motion, “Hyung distract them for a bit, please i’ll be quick” he pleaded.

Hoshi raised an eyebrow in question but left with a huff of ‘you owe me’ before closing the door. With a ‘hehe’ Mingyu turned around just in time for you to settle back down with your takeout in hand.

“Ooo whatd you get Y/n?” He really liked the way your name sounded on his lips.

You looked up at the sound of your name again and smiled as you took out the containers, “I got some Tteokkbokki, dumplings, kimchi of course and look,” you held up your last dish, “ The place by my apartment makes a salmon katsudon and its-“ You moan dramatically just at the thought (causing him to flinch in his pants),” It’s to die for.”

“Wahh that looks so good…” he trailed off watching your cheeks chub as you were already digging into your food, he just wanted to reach over and pinch them. You barely even noticed as he watched you quietly cause you were in your own world, obviously underestimating how hungry you were. Once you realized you were quite literally stuffing your face in front of Mingyu you haphazardly swallowed what was left in your mouth ready to apologize but when you looked up he was just gazing at you fondly.

“Is there something on my face?” You wondered out loud, putting your container down.

“You just look so cute enjoying your food. I’ll have to try that place soon” He tugged on his ear nervously, “ Hey Y/n?”

You looked back at him with wide eyes,” Hmm?”

“I really have to go soon,” He began, eyes slightly saddening at that fact,” But Seventeen is having a fan meet in Seoul next week…. If i send you some tickets through your company would you come?” He would’ve liked to give them to you personally but that might be a little to forward for now.

Your mouth dropped at that, never thinking such an outcome would come from this fancall. Really all you wanted was to convey your appreciation to the group. You nodded dumbly before giving him your companies details upon his request still slightly lost that this was all happening.

He was elated you accepted making sure to store that information safely so he could send the tickets later. “I really hope to see you then Y/n-“ he heard footsteps getting close to his room signally him he really had to let go of you for now, “I’ve taken too much of your time, enjoy your food and-“

He hesitated ending the call as he always did. Normally an easy ‘love you~’ was his go-to but for some reason it felt so intimate relaying it to you. “Thank you for loving seventeen and… I love you~” He blew a kiss, his eyes never straying from yours despite the heat in his cheeks.

You gasped quietly at his ending words. You knew he always told his fans that but right then you didn’t feel like he was telling you that as just an idol to supporter.

“Love you too Mingyu, take care of yourself Okay?”

The steps were getting louder so he initiated his melancholic goodbye before you reciprocated with a breathless one of your own; ultimately ending the call.

Just in time he got up as a staff member entered the room. Acting none the wiser Mingyu moved passed them with a bow saying he was heading home before any questions could be asked. He really needed to take care of his problem downstairs anyways.

While in the car on the way home he sent a message to his manager and gave your workplaces information to send some tickets for you and your coworkers, not to draw any unnecessary attention to you specifically . His manager didn’t question the sudden gift exchange which he was thankful for, only asking if there was anything else needed. Mingyu typed out a ‘nope hyung thanks’ in return until he envisioned that gorgeous smile of yours but this time it was within arms reach.

‘Hyung, can you get an NDA ready by next week too?’

NDA - non disclosure agreement, can be used for various things but in this case many celebrities have the people they keep close to them or want to start a relationship with sign one to protect their privacy pls comment it inspires me (°▽°)

#kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #svt x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #mingyu fluff #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu imagines #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #kpop x reader #kpop fluff

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reallyromealone · 6 months ago

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I’ve been soooo obsessed with the babyhaul series.So,I was wondering if you could do an ep where the babe finally develops his quirk.Aizawa dropped the babe at the U.A daycare and a few hours pass and he gets called to the office bc his little one developed their quirk (You can pick the quirk bc I have no idea what it should be)

Feel free to ignore this <333

Title: quirk

Fandom: bnha

Characters: Yamada, Aizawa, Nedzu

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Yamada x Aizawa

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, child reader, fluff

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Quirks were fun.

Especially when you get a call that your toddler rearrange the structural design of a block into a pile of sand, causing the daycare staff to have to call the parent to said daycare.

"What did he do?" Aizawa asked exasperated as he and his husband sat with their three year old, (name) sporting a cool quirk suppressant bracelet for children as he played with his papas fingers and wedding band "well it seems he developed his quirk, he turned a wood block into sand and then his cookie into a ducky toy and began crying when he didn't have his cookie anymore" the head of the U.A daycare explained and the two teachers shared a glance.

(Name) Had his biological father's quirk.

"Thank you for telling us, if you could excuse us" Aizawa lifted the little one In his arms as they went to Nedzu, they knew this time would come but god they wished they had a bit more time. (Name) Was confused as his dad's looked serious "papa! I got my quirk!" (Name) Tried to make conversation with Yamada who smiled down at his son that was in Aizawas hold "yeah, now we gotta see uncle Nedzu to teach you how to use it" (name) looked confused but just went with it, uncle Nedzu was the smartest guy ever so...

"Uncle zuzu! I got my quirk!" (Name) Said excitedly as he was freed from his dad's hold and set in the ground, waddling/ running towards the principal "So I have been told little mouse, very exciting" Nedzu said handing a cookie to the child who went around his desk to see him properly since he wasn't able to see above the desk.

"The commission isn't to know about his abilities so we can work that to our advantage" (name) was sitting on the carpet with his toys, playing happily while the adults put their plan into action, the daycare trained and signed enough NDA's to make a judge sweat "We will begin quirk training immediately, if he can do something like that without breaking a sweat now... That's something to keep close tabs on"

It was well known that quirks could be more powerful through generations, evolving into something even bigger than itself and (name) had no reaction to using his quirk even by accident, turning wood to sand wasn't an easy feat after all.

"It will only be for an hour a day, he is still quite young" Nedzu showed them folders he had prepared, a very cohesive and airtight plan that had the parents impressed "there's even snack time" Aizawa said with a huff, it fit in for their pick-up time for Eri and everything.

"And if course I'll be there in case something happens" Aizawa said looking back at his son who was in his own world.

That night, Aizawa and Yamada sat with their tot and explained a little bit about his quirk, (name) was already mentally developing faster than they were expecting, they were sure that Kisaki did something to cause that as the boy seemed to be understanding things faster and better than his peers.

"I can make cookies..." The power (name) realized he has was a horrifying realization to the parents who couldn't help but laugh at the fact that making cookies was his first instinct.

"Use that power wisely" Yamada snorted as they went home, they had some things to order and have lunch, (name)s choice.

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #yamazawa #child male reader #child reader #male reader #x male reader #x reader

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avatar-anna · 11 months ago

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Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

April 2016

“Thank you for meeting me.”

Y/n settled into the seat across from Harry. Her hands curled tightly around her mug, apprehension seeping into her bones. “Of course.”

She had been surprised when Harry called her, asking to meet at the Beachwood Cafe. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not one call or text, not even an email. Not that Y/n really expected much when One Direction finally went on hiatus, but after zero communication, she wasn’t quite sure why he’d called her all these months later.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Harry asked.

Y/n’s eyebrows raised a bit, but she answered him anyway after taking a sip of her coffee. “Fine, I guess. You?”

“Good!” Harry said excitedly. “Taking a break the last few months has been…I don’t know. Peaceful, but odd, you know? I’ve never had so much time to myself before.”

“Must be nice,” Y/n said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

“Yeah, but I realized that I kind of miss it,” he said. “I knew once we decided on the hiatus that I wanted to do my own thing, but I thought I would take a longer break, but I feel like I’m…itching to get back to work.”

That definitely seemed like Harry. Y/n had worked for him for years, and even when there were breaks between tours, he was hard at work—writing, going to Fashion Week, collaborating with other artists, vocal training, even trying new recipes in his state-of-the-art kitchen, which led to a phone call at one in the morning where Harry asked Y/n to come over and see if his macrons tasted "fluffy enough." It seemed only right that he rested for mere months before starting a new project. She could practically picture him at either of his homes in LA or London, scribbling in his leatherbound journal or playing new melodies on his guitar or piano (and the occasional late-night pastry party). As long as she’d known him, Harry had been a hard worker through and through. A little on the wild side when he had some tequila in him, but when it came down to his career, he was focused, determined.

“Good for you,” Y/n said, meaning it. She always thought he was capable of more. “So what comes next for you? Have you recorded songs already?”

“Not quite. I’m planning a trip to Jamaica to write and record there. It’s remote, serene, a good place to get away. So we’ll have to start booking flights and places to stay and—”

“I’m sorry, ‘We?’” Y/n asked, her brow furrowing with confusion.

Harry matched her look of confusion with one of his own. “Yeah, I mean—I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

The sentiment warmed Y/n’s heart for a moment, but his immediate assumption that she would drop everything just because he asked her to brought the irritation swarming back. “Mr. Sty—Harry, you know I don’t work for you anymore, right?”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the hiatus? I just thought we could all use some time off, but…I guess I just thought—”

Harry didn’t finish his thought, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Y/n would’ve found it cute if he hadn’t been so dense. Resentment still circled around her like a fog, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily, she couldn’t.

“I was employed by your management, Harry. To be an assistant to a member of One Direction,” Y/n explained. “I was let go. I had to quickly find another job doing something else.”

“Oh.”

Y/n supposed she should’ve anticipated being fired, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information that she was privy to that most people weren’t, secrets that were tightly bound by an NDA when she was first hired, but talks of the hiatus was very hushed. She knew to suspect that somewhere down the line the boys would finally take a break, but it came a lot sooner than she was prepared for, and she was left jobless before she had the chance to line something else up. Y/n thought that Harry would give her the courtesy of a warning, but he said nothing about it to her, didn’t offer much except a side hug after One Direction’s last performance.

So yeah, she was a little bitter.

“I’m—I’m really sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn’t make up for…all of this and everything you went through, but I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Y/n believed him, believed that he was sorry for everything that went down, but it still hurt to know she wasn’t someone he was close enough to talk to about all of this at the time. She was Harry’s assistant, she knew that, but they’d been through a lot together. But he was ever the professional it seemed, and it was her job to remember that, not his.

When she realized her coffee was finished, Y/n stood up. “Well, it was good seeing you, Harry. Good luck on your next project. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Wait, but—you’re not—you‘re leaving?”

“I have to run a couple errands before work," Y/n explained. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But really, no hard feelings. I wish you all the best.”

She left Harry at the table, heading for the front of the cafe and toward the busy street beyond. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away, but she tried to shake the feeling that she was walking away from more than just her boss. Former boss. Like her mother always reminded her, she couldn’t be a personal assistant forever.

“Wait!”

Y/n turned on instinct, eyes widening as Harry jogged after her, his little bun bouncing with each step. He skidded to a stop in front of her, green eyes wide and searching. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the heat of his gaze was enough to make butterflies stir in her stomach.

Putting on her best front, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Harry to say whatever he needed to.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need you, Y/n,” he said. “I—You’re the only one who really knows me, who I know will have my back no matter what. I need a familiar face in my corner.”

I need you, Y/n. Those words were her kryptonite. Year after year, Y/n heard Harry's voice over the phone as he roused her from sleep, read the text messages while she was getting her nails done or watched TV in her hotel room, or on the rare occasion she went on a date. But she had to hold strong. Y/n had been devastated by her sudden layoff, but now she had a life, and she didn't want to get sucked back into Harry's very alluring web of charming smiles, cheesy jokes, and endless adventure. That was his life, not hers.

“I have a job, Harry. I can’t just drop everything and quit because you suddenly want me to—”

“What are they paying you?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Harry pushed on. “What are they paying you? I’ll double it.”

Scoffing in disbelief, she said, “It’s not about the money—”

“Triple,” he countered. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. He looks desperate, Y/n thought.

“I can’t just quit my job because you remembered I existed,” Y/n said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. She clung to her resolve, hoping Harry would make this easy and just let it go, let her go. “I—I deserve more.”

More of what, she wasn’t sure, but Y/n knew it was true. Harry only reached out because he needed something from her, and that hurt more than she cared to admit.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. A pair of scuffed Chelsea boots he wore practically everywhere. Y/n had bought him a pair of Vans one year, an attempt to switch up his wardrobe, but he still chose the boots nine times out of ten. “Just—At least think about coming to Jamaica. Please?”

“Harry—”

“Not as my assistant. As a guest. A friend,” Harry amended. “We’re planning on staying at a huge villa, and I want to make up for being an idiot. Just—Just think about it. Please.”

Despite everything, Y/n found herself wanting to say yes. It was that magnetic pull she felt toward Harry that had kept her working for him for so long. He was an important person in her life, and up until he’d all but ghosted her after the hiatus, she thought she was important to him too. In spite of his misgivings, Y/n still wanted to believe that she was.

It was so stupid, but it felt good to be wanted by him. She was an idiot, she knew that. But her friendship with Harry was legitimate, he'd just acted like a complete idiot. She'd known him long enough to know he was very capable of acting like an idiot. So even though she shouldn’t, even though she had carefully lined up her reasons not to in a little line, she started to cave.

But she couldn’t make the decision now. Not when Harry was looking at her with pleading green eyes and his sad little puppy dog face, his cologne dizzyingly lovely. No, she owed it to herself to really think about what she wanted. If getting sucked back into that whirlwind was worth it. Worth getting her heart properly broken when she knew he would never feel the same about her.

"I'll show up at work, you know," Harry said. "I'm not above it. You might think I am, but I'm not."

Y/n had no doubt in her mind that he would. Along with being an idiot, Harry was very stubborn, and very persistent. She had years with him to know that. Did she really need Harry Styles showing up at her place of work?

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” she finally said, trying to pretend like her heart was screaming to just agree. But her heart was an impulsive little shit that was bound to get her in trouble.

Harry’s face broke out into a wide grin, one that displayed those famous dimples and lit up his entire face. It was hard to feel like he didn't think she was the only person on earth to exist when he looked like that, like he was convinced she’d already said yes. “I’ll take it.”

#harry styles #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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thedcgacademy · 1 year ago

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centurion-defence-academy · 5 months ago

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During the last six decades of its glorious existence, the National Defence Academy has grown both in grace and grandeur and from its portals have emerged ‘Leaders of Men’, who have demonstrated the essence of inter-services camaraderie and jointmanship thereby vindicating the faith and vision of its founding fathers. Their achievements are all pervading and showcased in every echelon of our Armed Forces and also in the civil society. The ‘Cradle’ has indeed rocked the nascent youth and groomed them into ‘Leaders’ who have lived up to its ethos: ‘Seva Paramo Dharma’ (Service Before Self). NDA & NA (I & II) Written Exam conducted twice a year by Union Public Services Commission or UPSC to recruit candidates in the Indian Army, Navy and Air Forces.

#nda coaching #best nda coaching #top nda coaching #nda course #nda written exam preparation #nda coaching classes #nda coaching in india

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whathehonestfuk · 3 months ago

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Post season 3 pre-season 4

Something spooks Steve while he's waiting for the party to finish up at hellfire so he comes running nail bat in hand to check up on the kids

This obviously freaks out and intrigues the other hellfire members that don't understand why Steve Harrington would come running in with a homemade weapon and be doing wellness checks on the newest members

They start asking questions and it gets even more interesting because they mention NDAs that they try and talk around and being the skilled adventurers who have to put clues and solve plots together not unlike the one laid out before them they figure out it has something to do with the shit down Hawkins lab (and starcourt but they start with the lab)

So they go out for some urban exploring to see if they can't figure out what the hell was happening only to be met with Steve stepping out on front of eddies van before they can get too close to the lab

Steve has enough experience with the party to know there's no dissuading a curious nerd so he passes out weapons (you're telling these people aren't obsessively prepared for just about any situation I call bullshit) and giving out instructions before leading them inside

Of course there's monsters in there it's Hawkins if something can go wrong it will, he tells them to run and being faced with a monster for the first time they listen, until there outside and realize they left him alone with a fucking monster and run back to help him

Steve is injured but nothing life threatening but he heards them all back outside to the cars calls in a code red and tells everyone to meet back at his place

While they're waiting for everyone to show up Eddie tends to his wounds and gives him his whole you're not a bad dude speech and it's somehow more homoerotic than it was in the show (thanks wound care)

#blah blah blah more mosters more fighting #eventually they kiss #and happy ending #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #techniquely a season 4 au

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oosa3x · 2 months ago

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secret moments (rd3)

ii. begin again

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

pairing: rúben dias x f! celebrity! reader word count: 10, 910 warnings: feelings of anxiety/doubt author’s note: again i don’t want to butcher the portuguese language so the conversations between rúben and his agent that are italicized are meant to be them speaking in portuguese

Almost a week later, Rúben was in the middle of his post-training routine when his phone buzzed on the bench beside him. He glanced at the screen, seeing Pedro, his agent's name flash across. He wiped the sweat from his brow, grabbed the phone, and answered.

“Hey, Pedro. What’s up?”

There was a pause on the other end before Pedro’s voice came through, slightly confused but amused, "Rúben, care to explain why I’ve been sent an NDA from Y/N L/N’s lawyers?”

Rúben froze for a second, the words catching him off guard, "Wait… what?”

“Yeah,” Pedro continued, clearly enjoying this a little too much, "Just got an email from her team, with a non-disclosure agreement. They want me to review it. Something about you having dinner with her?”

Rúben groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, "Ah, right… that.”

Pedro laughed, "So you’re casually having dinner with Y/N L/N now? And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Rúben shifted, feeling the heat rise to his face, "We met at 6lack’s concert the other night, we hit it off, and I asked her to dinner. That’s all.”

Pedro hummed thoughtfully, "And now I’m handling NDAs for you from the biggest popstar on the planet. I have to say, Rúben, this is a new one.”

Rúben sighed, "Look, I wasn’t expecting all the paperwork. But, you know… her level of fame. I guess it’s just how things are done.”

Pedro chuckled, "You’ve dealt with high-profile situations before, but this… this is different.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rúben admitted, "But it’s not a big deal. Can you just handle the NDA for me?”

“Of course,” Pedro replied, still sounding amused, "I’ll look it over. Just remember to stay focused—you’ve got training, and I’d hate for this dinner to become a huge distraction.”

Rúben smiled, appreciating Pedro’s concern, "Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”

Pedro laughed again, "Alright, Rúben. I’ll take care of it. And good luck with your…dinner.”

Rúben shook his head, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. You had followed through with your promise, and the reality of it all was sinking in. Now, all he had to do was prepare for dinner. But no pressure, right?

Pedro’s voice crackled through the phone again, his tone a mix of amusement and seriousness, "Oh, and by the way… It says here that if you breach the contract, you could be fined for anywhere between $1 million to $10 million, depending on the severity.”

Rúben blinked, sitting up a little straighter, "How much?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat. He knew an NDA was standard for someone as famous as you, but the stakes suddenly felt much higher than he’d anticipated.

Pedro chuckled softly, clearly entertained by Rúben’s reaction, "Yeah, that got your attention, huh? They’re not playing around. This is serious business, Rúben. I’ve seen tough NDAs, but this one takes it up a notch. She’s got great lawyers.”

Rúben groaned, rubbing his forehead, "Ten million dollars for breaching it? What am I supposed to do? Not breathe during dinner?”

Pedro laughed, "Look, it’s more about protecting her from any unwanted attention or leaks. I mean, she’s a huge star, and I’m guessing she’s been burned before. As long as you don’t spill any secrets to the media or post about it on Instagram, I think you’ll be fine.”

Rúben sighed, "Yeah, I get it. Just wasn’t expecting this much... legal pressure.”

“Well, that’s the price of dating a megastar, huh?” Pedro teased, "Just don’t breach the contract, and you’ll avoid that $10 million bill.”

Rúben chuckled, though the weight of the NDA lingered in the back of his mind, "I’ll be careful. No talking to the press, no social media, no problem.”

Pedro’s voice softened slightly, "Good. It’ll be fine, Rúben. Just keep things low-key, enjoy the night, and don’t worry too much.”

“Thanks, Pedro,” Rúben replied, grateful for the advice.

“Anytime. I’ll finalize the NDA and get it back to her team. Now go focus on your game—and your dinner,” Pedro added with a smirk in his voice before ending the call.

Rúben sighed, leaning back on the bench, staring at his phone. Dinner with you was going to be a little more complicated than he’d imagined, but he couldn’t help the flicker of excitement building inside him.

You had also told your manager and publicist about the date, obviously, expecting the usual reactions—some cautious excitement, maybe a few questions about who this guy was. Instead, they immediately shifted into full-on research mode, typing away and cross-referencing like detectives uncovering a hidden scandal. It was the same routine they went through for anyone who got close to you. Being her meant that even something as simple as a dinner invitation required a background check.

Of course, you’d done your own research, too. After all, you couldn’t afford not to. You’d agreed to the date with Rúben, intrigued by his easy charm and genuine interest in music, not just your fame. A quick search confirmed what you knew: he played for Manchester City and Portugal. He wasn’t exactly an unknown, but all you could find were mostly details about his professional career. You had scrolled past images of him on the field, mid-game action shots where he looked like a force of nature. There were a few interviews, some charity work, and a couple of awards for his defensive skills, but nothing screamed “media circus” like the ones you were used to dating.

Now, the sound of the makeup brush softly sweeping across your skin was almost meditative, a steady rhythm in the otherwise whirlwind of activity that surrounded you. You sat in the makeup chair, script in hand, though your mind kept wandering away from the lines. The trailer was buzzing with the quiet hustle of your team: Amelia sitting across from you, iPad in hand, rattling off a list of tasks that seemed to grow by the second, and your makeup and hair stylists.

"…and we need final approval on the cut for the music video. The director sent over two options for the final edit again, so you'll have to choose one today," Amelia said, scrolling through her screen without missing a beat. “Plus, the feature you did for Elijah’s track. His label's asking for approval on the single artwork. I said we’d get back to them, but the deadline’s coming up.”

You nodded, barely registering the words. The past week had been a blur of early mornings on set and late nights running through lines. This new film—your first big role in over a year—had consumed most of your time since arriving in Manchester, but somehow, it wasn’t the movie that kept pulling at the edges of your focus.

Amelia continued, “And, of course, there’s the perfume. They sent over the final concept for the bottle. We have to let them know by tomorrow if you want to make any other changes, because they’re going to start production soon.”

You glanced up from the script, meeting Amelia’s eyes in the mirror. “Yeah, I liked ‘Option A’ for the music video, I loved the artwork, and I love the bottle, no changes needed.” you replied, more distracted than usual.

Amelia nodded, tapping her screen and continuing her list. “Right, and Rúben’s agent sent back the signed NDA we sent him yesterday.”

That caught your attention.

You looked up from your notes, surprised. “Wait, he sent it back already?”

Amelia nodded, not even glancing up from her phone. “Yep. Signed and everything. Got it in my inbox this morning.”

A mix of relief and curiosity washed over you. Rúben hadn’t even hesitated. “Huh. That was quick.”

“He’s efficient, I’ll give him that,” Amelia said with a small smile, still not looking at you. “I think he’s serious about seeing you.”

You took a breath, trying to process it all. It was a good sign, right? He understood the importance of protecting your space, your career, your life. “Yeah, that’s... good,” you said softly, the reality of the situation setting in.

You let the script rest in your lap, your fingers curling around the pages as you tried not to look too obvious about the way your pulse quickened. It had been a week since the 6lack concert, a week since Rúben had slipped into your life with that casual confidence, asking you out like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it had been, in that moment—natural. You hadn’t thought twice before saying yes.

Now, though, with the space of a few days and the reality of your world crashing back in, things felt more complicated. The layers of your life—the NDAs, the contracts, the eyes always watching—didn’t just disappear because you wanted to have dinner with someone who wasn’t in your industry.

Amelia glanced at you then, her expression softening. “He even suggested a place in the city for dinner. Low-key.” She paused, gauging your reaction, “He seems really genuine.”

You bit your lip, thinking it over. Rúben had been nothing but considerate since the moment he texted you the day after the concert—he’d gotten your number from Ricardo—checking in to see how your schedule was going and making sure you didn’t feel pressured. It was refreshing, really. He wasn’t pushing for some grand, over-the-top date, just something simple. But you knew that even a “simple” date in your world required layers of preparation.

“Do I have time?” you asked, glancing at Amelia’s iPad where your schedule was probably packed to the brim.

She tapped at the screen, scrolling through your appointments. “If you don’t mind having dinner after an eleven-hour shoot day, we can squeeze it in tomorrow night.”

“Eleven hours?” You sighed, leaning back in the makeup chair as the artist moved to your eyes.

“Welcome to the glamorous world of filmmaking,” Amelia said dryly. “But seriously, if you want to go, we’ll make it work. I’ll get security to check out the location Rúben suggested. I can handle it.”

You thought about it for a moment, considering. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him—you did. But even the thought of it came with the weight of everything else: the media attention, the inevitable gossip, the protocols. And Rúben… he didn’t really know what that meant. Not fully.

You were famous-famous. The kind where one blurry photo could send Twitter into a meltdown, where rumors could spread with a single comment taken out of context. Rúben was a footballer, sure, and not an unknown one, but his world wasn’t consumed by the same level of public obsession. He lived a life with a little more freedom, a little more room to breathe. You weren’t sure he understood how little of that you had left.

But the thought of him waiting for your reply made something flutter in your chest—a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while.

“I want to see him,” you said finally, keeping your voice calm, like it wasn’t a big deal. “But let’s keep it discreet. No paparazzi, no fanfare. I’m talking top-secret here.”

Amelia smiled, nodding, her fingers already moving to make it happen. “Consider it done. I’ll update you once everything’s confirmed.”

The makeup artist finished, stepping back to give you a final look in the mirror. Your face was flawless, but even the layers of foundation couldn’t hide the anticipation building under your skin. Tomorrow night, after the cameras stopped rolling and the lights of the set faded, you’d step into a different kind of spotlight—one where it wasn’t your career on display, but something far more personal.

You thought about what it meant to potentially do this to Rúben, your mind wandering as Amelia's voice faded into the background. You’d stalked him on the internet more than once over the past week, trying to piece together a better picture of him. Amid the match highlights, interviews, and charity appearances, one thing was made clear to you: how private he was. He talked about it with such ease, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to guard your personal life like a treasure. There was a certain calmness in the way he spoke about it, like he knew exactly where to draw the line between the field and his life outside it.

Could you really do this to him? Could you tilt his entire world on its axis?

You’d been down this road before. You knew what would happen the moment a photo of the two of you surfaced. The whirlwind of speculation, the invasive questions, the opinions—oh, the opinions. Everyone would have one. From football fans to the music industry, people who knew nothing about either of you would have something to say. They always did. You could already imagine the headlines: Man City defender Rúben Dias and global pop sensation Y/N L/N spark dating rumors! And once the narrative started, it wouldn’t stop. Not for a long time.

It didn’t matter that he was already in the public eye—this was different. He wasn’t the kind of athlete whose personal life fed the media machine. He wasn’t out there for show; he kept his circle tight, his private life nearly impenetrable. And here you were, potentially about to obliterate that.

A wave of guilt swept through you. You knew what the attention could do to someone, especially someone who wasn’t used to it on this scale. It could be suffocating, relentless. And it wouldn’t just be the paparazzi. Social media, gossip sites, random strangers dissecting his every move, his every interaction with you. The noise was constant, and it was exhausting. You’d learned to live with it, but could Rúben?

You shifted in your chair, your grip tightening on the script in your lap. He hadn’t asked for this. He’d asked you out, sure, but he couldn’t possibly know the avalanche that came with it. You wanted to be selfish—you wanted to see where this could go. But at what cost? Was it fair to bring him into the chaos that surrounded your life?

You could already picture the look on his face when the cameras started following him to training, reporters asking him about you instead of his performance on the pitch. You didn’t know if he’d signed up for all that, and that uncertainty gnawed at you.

You felt Amelia’s eyes on you, sensing your hesitation even as she ran through the call sheet, “You okay?” she asked gently, breaking through your thoughts.

You forced a small smile, nodding. “Yeah… just thinking.”

But the guilt lingered. Could you really drag him into your world, knowing what would happen? Would he be able to handle it? Or worse—would it change him, warp the private, grounded person you’d come to admire in such a short time?

You didn’t know. And that uncertainty hung over you, making the decision feel heavier than it should have.

He had this calmness about him that completely unarmed you. That was, without a doubt, the scariest part. Your walls were usually impenetrable—years of living in the spotlight had taught you to keep your guard up at all times. But with Rúben, it was different. You found yourself talking to him like it was nothing, like you were letting him inch closer to parts of yourself you typically kept hidden from the world.

And you couldn’t figure out why.

Maybe it was because Ricardo, someone you trusted implicitly, had vouched for him. He’d spoken so highly of Rúben when you’d first mentioned him after the concert, describing him as solid, down-to-earth, the kind of person who didn’t need to be the center of attention. That had reassured you. But that wasn’t all of it.

No, it was Rúben himself. There was something about him, something that felt like a breath of fresh air in the middle of the chaos that usually consumed your life. His easy smile, the way he had listened to you more than he spoke, the way he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you—not the version of you plastered on billboards or dissected by the media, but the real you.

That calm confidence of his was disarming. It made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down for a second. And that scared you because every time you did that in the past, it hadn’t ended well. You knew better. You were supposed to be better. You told yourself you’d be better.

But then Rúben would text you, or you’d think back to that night after the concert, when he’d talked about music with a kind of passion that matched your own, and all the caution you’d built up over the years seemed to fade, just a little.

He didn’t deserve the dark cloud that always seemed to loom over you.

So, again, you found yourself wondering: should you put an end to this before it ever really starts?

It would be the easiest option. You could send a polite message, thank him for the lovely conversation, and tell him that your schedules just didn’t align. You had plenty of reasons to fall back on—your filming commitments, the relentless pace of your career, the complexities of your world that someone like Rúben shouldn’t have to navigate.

It would be so simple. Clean. You could move on without guilt, without dragging him into the whirlwind that was your life. He would return to his own, continue as the quiet, private man he was, and you’d both walk away without the inevitable chaos that would follow if you continued down this path and the general public would be none the wiser.

And yet, even as you toyed with the idea, something inside you resisted. Because a part of you wanted to see where this could go.

That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Rúben was a breath of fresh air, something different, something real. He didn’t seem fazed by your fame, didn’t want anything from you other than your time. There was no pretense, no hidden agenda. He wasn’t trying to leverage your celebrity, and that alone felt rare and valuable in a way you hadn’t expected.

This was the difficult part about dating you. The weight of it was almost unbearable at times—the way one simple dinner could spark a wildfire of speculation. You couldn’t possibly be spotted on a first date without headlines appearing the next morning, suggesting marriage plans, analyzing every glance, every smile. The assumptions were always dramatic and relentless, as if you were navigating life with a script already written by the world.

At least with the men you’d dated in the past, they’d understood the rules. They knew the game because they played it, too. Fellow singers, actors, people in the same industry—guys who didn’t flinch when a camera flashed or when their names trended on Twitter for a day. They knew what they were getting into because they lived it, too. Even when things went south, at least they knew the stakes going in. The pressure, the speculation—it wasn’t foreign to them.

But Rúben? He lived in the spotlight, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Football had its own level of fame, but he hadn’t been subjected to your level of scrutiny. He’d been able to maintain that sense of privacy, to keep his personal life tucked neatly out of the public’s reach. How could you expect him to be okay with what was waiting for him on the other side of one dinner with you?

Even now, just the idea of going the extra mile for privacy—just for one date—felt overwhelming. And it wasn’t even about what the press might think; it was about the reality of your life. You’d have to go through so many hoops to keep it under wraps. NDAs, a carefully vetted location, your security team on high alert, making sure no one could snap a photo or overhear a conversation. It was exhausting to think about. And all of this… just to see if there was something there, if this thing with Rúben could even get off the ground.

The stakes felt so high for something that was supposed to be simple. You weren’t even sure if the chemistry would translate beyond the concert, beyond the texts and the flirty exchanges. What if you went through all this trouble, all this effort, and then… nothing? You’d have pulled him into your world for a fleeting moment, made him part of a spectacle that would haunt him for weeks, maybe months, for no reason.

You sighed, your fingers tightening around your phone. That was the hardest part, wasn’t it? The what ifs. You couldn’t move in your personal life without thinking ten steps ahead, without calculating every possible outcome. It was how you’d learned to survive in this world, but it also kept you from taking risks, from just living.

The reality was, even if you could keep this date under wraps, it wouldn’t last. You couldn’t keep a relationship hidden forever. The media would find out eventually, and then it would be everywhere. And what would that do to him? To both of you?

You glanced down at your phone as it buzzed, Rúben, of course. It would be so easy to back out, to save him from the inevitable. But the truth was, you didn’t want to. Not yet.

Maybe that was selfish. Maybe it was reckless. But for once, you wanted to see where something could go without overthinking every consequence before it even began. Maybe you owed yourself that much.

My god.

You couldn’t believe you were doing all these mental gymnastics over a guy you spent, what, an hour with backstage? One hour of conversation, some texts, and suddenly you were spiraling, weighing the consequences of a first date like it was a life-altering decision. It was pathetic, really. You should’ve been able to shrug this off, to compartmentalize it the way you did everything else in your life. But here you were, running circles in your head, trying to predict the future and safeguard both your world and his.

And for what? A guy who—while undeniably attractive, grounded, and charming—was still a relative stranger to you. It wasn’t like you were head over heels. This wasn’t some whirlwind romance, not yet. It was just… potential. The spark of something new.

But the spark of something new had the power to completely change everything. You’d been here before. You knew that once the public got wind of a new relationship, there was no turning back. Your life would become theirs to dissect, and his—someone who wasn’t used to that level of attention—could be pulled into the chaos, whether he liked it or not.

You exhaled, leaning back in the chair, suddenly feeling the weight of it all press against your chest. Why was it so hard to just… go out with someone? Other people seemed to manage it just fine. But with you, it was always this dance of “what if” and “how bad could this get?”

You glanced at your phone again, the unread message from Rúben staring back at you. It was probably something simple. He wasn’t asking you to commit to anything monumental, wasn’t trying to force you into anything. It was just a date, a moment to see if there was something real between the two of you. But you already knew there was no such thing as just a date when you were involved.

You thumbed the screen, finally opening his message.

I found a place. Really private, no one will bother us. I spoke with the owner. Let me know if you’re still up for it.

Your stomach twisted the second you read it. Rúben had been nothing but patient—gentle, even—and here you were, doubting yourself. Part of you knew you should’ve been excited, but instead, all you could feel was that familiar pull of hesitation. Do you really deserve this? the voice in the back of your head whispered through your mind, uninvited. You tried to shake it off, but the guilt had a way of lingering.

Still, you typed your response, fingers moving almost mechanically.

Let’s do it. Tomorrow night works.

You hit send before you could second-guess it. But as soon as the message went through, that tightness in your chest returned. You were agreeing, but the wall was already halfway up, built from everything you couldn’t bring yourself to admit.

The next day was grueling—a relentless 11 hours on set, with every scene and every line feeling like an uphill battle. By the time you wrapped, exhaustion clung to you, both physically and mentally. The thought of the date lingered at the back of your mind, but you pushed it aside, trying to focus on getting through the day. When it was finally over, there was no time to unwind. You went straight from set to getting ready, slipping into the role of someone who wasn’t completely spent.

Standing in front of the mirror, you stared at your reflection, feeling disconnected from the person staring back. Your makeup was applied with precision, but it felt like armor more than anything else. As you brushed through your hair, a part of you wondered if it even mattered. Would he notice how tired you were? Could he sense the hesitation you were trying so hard to bury? You added a spritz of your favorite perfume, hoping the familiar scent would bring some comfort, but even that felt a little distant tonight.

You pulled on the dress you had picked out, one you thought would make you feel confident. But now, it felt like just another layer between you and what you were really feeling. Despite your best efforts, the weight of the day—and everything you were holding back—clung to you like the exhaustion in your bones. You exhaled, taking one last look as you slipped into your heels.

The sound of your footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as you made your way downstairs. At the bottom of the staircase, Amelia was waiting, her phone in one hand, an encouraging smile on her face. She knew it had been a long day—longer than most—and her presence was a quiet reminder that you didn’t have to go through the motions alone.

“You look amazing,” Amelia said, her eyes scanning your dress before landing on your face. “Rúben’s lucky.”

You gave a tight smile, still feeling the weight of everything from the day pressing on your chest. “Thanks,” you murmured, fiddling with your necklace, trying to shake the nerves. But before you could say anything else, Amelia stepped closer, lowering her voice gently.

“You know… you can still cancel, or reschedule,” she offered, a knowing look in her eyes. “He’d understand.”

“That would be so rude to do so close to the reservation,” you replied quickly, though the thought of canceling lingered for just a second longer than you wanted it to. You sighed, straightening up, determined to go through with it.

Amelia didn’t push further, but her gaze was soft as she squeezed your hand. “Okay. Well, we’ve got everything arranged. Mark has spoken to the restaurant, and NDAs have been signed by the staff. You’ll go in through the service entrance, and the private dining room is ready. No one’s going to bother you.”

You rubbed your temple, feeling the weight of it all. “God, when did this become my life? This is so ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath.

Amelia chuckled lightly. “You want to walk in through the front? Be my guest.”

You laughed, despite yourself, shaking your head. “Yeah, maybe not.”

As if on cue, Mark appeared, his expression serious but reassuring. “We’ll drop you at the back. Eric and Jason will escort you in, but it’ll be quiet. Everything’s been triple-checked.”

You nodded, feeling a small wave of relief wash over you. They had thought of everything, as they always did, but there was still that part of you that wondered if you could get through the night without letting your walls slip.

“Don’t be nervous, he’s just a guy,” Amelia added, her voice light, trying to bring some levity back into the moment. She smiled one last time before stepping aside, allowing Eric and Jason to escort you out the door and into the car.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet. The low hum of the city streets outside passed in a blur, but inside, your thoughts were loud. You fiddled with the edge of your dress, glancing occasionally at Eric, who sat up front, focused on the road ahead. You wondered what Rúben was thinking right now—if he was as calm and collected as he always seemed to be, or if he had any idea how much of yourself you were trying to keep hidden.

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop. Eric and Jason were quiet as they opened the door for you, guiding you toward the discreet back entrance of the restaurant. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself as you stepped out, the cool night air doing little to settle the nervous energy swirling inside you.

The service entrance was exactly as Mark had described—hidden away, out of sight. You glanced around, half-expecting someone to recognize you, but no one even blinked as you slipped past the kitchen staff and through a narrow hallway. A host appeared almost immediately, offering a polite smile. He gave you a slight nod, his fingers adjusting his collar almost unconsciously as he spoke.

“This way, Miss L/N,” he said, his voice steady but just a touch quieter than you expected. You barely noticed, preoccupied with your own nerves, as he led you through the hallway. His steps were quick and professional, though there was something a little rigid in the way he moved. Maybe it was the fact that Eric and Jason were standing nearby.

When you reached the private dining room, he paused in front of the door, his hand resting on the handle for a moment longer than necessary before he turned it and opened the door for you. “Mr. Dias, your guest has arrived. Your waiter will be here soon. Enjoy your evening,” he said, his smile lingering a bit too long before he quickly stepped aside to let you pass.

You offered a quick smile before he slipped away, leaving you standing there for just a moment. You stepped into the private dining room, the warm glow of the low lighting greeted you, casting long shadows across the intimate space. It should have been calming, but instead, your nerves buzzed under your skin, making every step feel heavier.

And there he was—Rúben. Standing at the head of the table, locking eyes with you the moment you entered, his eyes softening with that familiar warmth. Even after your insecurities sunk their teeth in you, his presence was striking, but tonight, there was something more. He seemed relaxed, yet focused, as if he’d been waiting for you all day. His smile was warm, a subtle reassurance that everything was okay. He smiled a little more deeply when you approached, the quiet confidence in his posture reminding you why you’d said yes in the first place.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and steady, that smile on his lips as he took you in.

“Hi,” you replied, offering a small smile in return, though the tightness in your chest remained. He pulled out your chair, the gesture thoughtful as always, but even as you sat down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were about to step into something you weren’t quite ready for.

The reality of what this meant had settled in over the past few days, like glitter that had fallen to the ground after the initial rush. It was the same glitter that used to make you feel alive, back when you thought fame was everything. But now, it was just dust, settling into all the cracks of your life.

You suddenly felt the need to keep him at arm’s length tonight. Maybe it was your instinct to protect yourself—or worse, protect him. The walls that usually kept people at bay were fully up tonight, and despite how charming Rúben was, how easy it had been to talk to him the first time you met, something was stopping you from letting go and enjoying the moment.

You sat down across from him, nodding in acknowledgment as the waiter poured water into your glass. Your fingers played with the edge of your napkin, your body stiff, your mind a million miles away.

The baggage that came with dating you was impossible for you to ignore. Your fame was always there, an elephant in every room you stepped into. The weight of it pressed against you now, reminding you that this wasn’t just a date—it was a potential headline, a potential disaster.

All the men you’d dated before had told you as much. They might’ve tried to play it cool, but eventually, the truth always came out: it was exhausting to be with you. The constant attention, the scrutiny, the lack of privacy—it was too much for anyone to handle for long. The reporters who called their jobs, their families, digging for details, crossing every line just to get a story. It wore people down, and no one deserved that. Especially not Rúben.

Looking at him from across the table, his features warmed by the glow of the low lighting in the room, it affirmed what you already knew. He was… normal. At least, as normal as someone in the public eye could be. You imagined he could still step out and grab groceries if he wanted to. Maybe fans asked for a photo, but that was probably the extent of it. He wasn’t hunted by photographers the way you were, he didn’t have rumors about his love life splashed across tabloids every week. His life, while public, still had space for normalcy. Space for peace.

You couldn’t remember the last time you did something as mundane as buying groceries. That wasn’t your life anymore. Every moment was calculated, planned, protected. You couldn’t just “date” someone, not without it being analyzed, picked apart, and turned into a circus. You’d seen it happen before—one photo of a first date, and suddenly it was the start of a romance the whole world was invested in. And when it inevitably fizzled out, the headlines would make it seem like you were heartbroken, a mess of emotions over something that had barely started.

“Hey,” Rúben’s voice broke through your thoughts. His eyes were on you, concern softening his features. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t said much since you sat down. You were here, but your mind wasn’t, and clearly, he’d noticed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, offering a weak smile. “I’m just… distracted, I guess.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Is it something I did? If you don’t want to be here, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this.”

There was no hint of judgment in his voice, just understanding. And that only made the guilt twist deeper inside you. He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve the weight of your internal battle.

“No, it’s not you,” you assured him quickly, offering a small smile in an attempt to brush it off. “It’s nothing, really.”

Rúben raised an eyebrow, giving you a look that said he wasn’t buying it. He didn’t have to say anything right away—his silence was enough to gently coax you into continuing.

You sighed, glancing away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “Okay, maybe it’s not nothing,” you admitted, a nervous laugh escaping you. “It’s just… complicated, you know?”

“What’s complicated?” he asked, his voice soft but direct, his gaze steady on yours. He wasn’t pushing, but you could tell he wasn’t going to let you hide behind the word either.

You hesitated, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of your water glass as you carefully considered your words. “I’ve just… been here before,” you said slowly, trying not to give too much away too soon. “When people see me with someone, they make assumptions. And then it snowballs into something it’s not. I don’t want that for you.”

Rúben was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady, and then he leaned in just slightly, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “People are going to assume what? That I’m on a date with a beautiful, talented woman that I’d really like to get to know?” His smile grew warmer, more sincere. “Because that’s exactly what this is.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of his statement, how direct yet lighthearted it was. A quiet laugh escaped you, the tension in your chest loosening just a little. He wasn’t dodging the weight of your words, but he was reminding you what was real, right now.

Rúben’s eyes softened as he watched you. “Look, I understand what you’re saying. I know what could come from this, but we don’t have to worry about what everyone else thinks. Right now, it’s just us. I want to be here with you.”

His words hit you in a way that made it hard to resist smiling. You weren’t used to someone meeting your fears with such calmness, with no rush to make promises or minimize how you felt.

You smiled, a real one this time. “You make it sound so simple.”

He shrugged lightly, still smiling. “Because it is simple. Let’s just… have dinner, and see where it goes.”

You exhaled, some of the weight lifting from your shoulders as you nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

His calmness once again disarmed you. Maybe he was right. Maybe it didn’t have to be as complicated as you were making it. Rúben’s smile widened, his eyes soft with reassurance, and for the first time that night, you felt a little bit of the weight on your shoulders begin to lift. You hadn’t realized just how tightly you were holding yourself together, but now, in the quiet of this private room, with Rúben’s steady presence across from you, it felt a little easier to breathe..

The waiter returned to take your order, and you both exchanged polite words with him. The moment he left, the silence returned, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. You felt Rúben’s gaze on you, not in a scrutinizing way, but more like he was waiting for you to relax, to meet him halfway.

You took a sip of your water, letting the coolness calm the lingering nerves. “How do you handle it? The public attention, I mean.”

Rúben leaned back slightly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Honestly, it’s different for me,” he said after a moment. “Football comes with attention, sure, but people care more about what happens on the pitch. If I’m playing well, everything’s good. If I’m not, well… they let me know,” he added with a small smile. “But my personal life? It’s not under the same kind of microscope. It’s not like it is for you.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. For athletes, the focus was often on their performance, their game. But for you, every part of your life—on stage and off—was up for public consumption. “That must be nice,” you said softly, almost wistful. “To have some part of your life that’s still just yours.”

Rúben’s eyes softened as he watched you. “It is,” he admitted. “But I get that it’s not the same for you. I’m not naive about it.” He leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting on the table. “I know the pressure on you is different. But it doesn’t have to be something we figure out all at once. There’s no rush.”

His calm, steady voice had a grounding effect on you, like he wasn’t trying to fix things or demand more than you were ready to give. He wasn’t expecting you to map out your entire future right here and now. He was just present, in the moment, willing to take things one step at a time.

You smiled a little, shaking your head. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into, do you?”

Rúben chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Maybe not,” he said with a shrug, “but I’d like to find out.”

The waiter returned with your food, and for the next few minutes, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—football, music, your time in Manchester. It was easy. It was light. And the more you spoke, the more you realized that this was exactly what you needed—a break from the heaviness of your life, a moment to just be a person sharing a meal with someone interesting. It reminded you of why you’d said yes to this date in the first place.

You caught yourself relaxing into the evening, the initial nerves and hesitation melting away little by little. You laughed when Rúben told a story about a chaotic team practice, and he asked thoughtful questions about the movie you were filming, genuinely interested in your answers.

By the time dessert arrived, you almost forgot why you’d been so hesitant in the first place. It was nice, being around someone who wasn’t trying to impress you, who wasn’t intimidated by your fame or overwhelmed by the attention that came with it. Rúben was just himself, calm and steady, and it was a welcome contrast to the chaos that usually surrounded your life.

At some point, you glanced around the room, the reality of your private setting sinking in. The service entrance, the NDAs, the security—it all seemed so distant now, like you’d left that part of yourself outside the door when you’d walked into the room. You weren’t just Y/N, the global superstar in this moment. You were a woman on a first date, with a man who seemed genuinely interested in knowing the real you.

“Thank you.” you said quietly, catching his gaze across the table.

He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For being… sweet,” you said with a soft laugh, though you meant it. “I’m not used to that.”

Rúben smiled, his eyes warm. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that.”

You smiled back, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to just be in the moment without worrying about what came next. Maybe, just for tonight, you could forget about the fame, the pressure, the inevitable headlines. Maybe, for once, you could just be you, and not her.

Rúben leaned back in his chair, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ve never seen someone have an effect on people like you do.”

You furrowed your brows, curious but trying to play it cool. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters,” he began, leaning in slightly, “I think I have permanent hearing loss from when you came on stage the other night. The crowd lost it.” He chuckled softly. “And the host who led you in here looked like he was about to pass out. The waiter? His hands were trembling as he took your order, barely even noticed me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. You weren’t exactly unaware of the effect you had on people, but it always caught you off guard when someone described it so plainly. To you, it was just part of your life—people’s reactions had long since become background noise. You’d gotten so used to it that you sometimes forgot how overwhelming it could be for others.

“That can’t be true,” you said, smirking as you tried to downplay it. “They were probably just having an off night.”

Rúben laughed again, shaking his head. “You seriously didn’t see it, did you? You walk into a room, and it changes the energy entirely. People react to you—they can’t help it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a little bashful despite your best efforts to stay composed. This was the part that always felt strange—the acknowledgment of your impact, how larger-than-life you could seem to others. It wasn’t something you did intentionally, but it was a reality you had learned to live with.

“And what about you?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could overthink it. You tilted your head slightly, genuinely curious now. “Do I have an effect on you?”

Rúben didn’t hesitate, his expression softening. “I’ve been nervous all week waiting for this.”

His honesty catches you off guard, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steady but genuine. “But not for the reasons they’re nervous.”

You blinked, feeling the air between you shift. “Yeah? What’s the reason then?”

He held your gaze, his eyes unwavering, and for a second you felt the world around you slow down, like this moment existed outside of everything else. “It’s not your fame making me nervous,” he said, his voice lower, more intimate. “It’s how absolutely gorgeous you are.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, a blush creeping up your neck before you could stop it. His words, so direct, so unaffected by the world you usually navigated, hit you in a way that felt... real. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you blush like this.

A soft laugh escaped you, more out of nervousness than anything else. “I don’t usually get nervous on dates,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands before looking back up at him, “but… you’ve managed to make me a little nervous too.”

Rúben’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with warmth and amusement. “Good,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “That makes two of us.”

For the first time in a long time, you let yourself sit in that feeling—being nervous, being unsure, but also feeling something real and genuine. The walls you’d been so careful to keep up tonight were starting to crumble, piece by piece, and it didn’t feel like it was such a bad thing.

Rúben looked at you thoughtfully, his gaze steady as the conversation quieted. “Why’d you say yes? To this date, I mean. You could have said no.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. It wasn’t something you’d really considered, not in those exact terms. Why had you said yes? You’d had plenty of opportunities to turn people down in the past, often with good reason. But with Rúben, something had felt different that night.

You laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Have you seen yourself?” The joke slipped out easily, and Rúben chuckled, but there was a sincerity behind his question that lingered in the air, making you feel like you owed him a real answer.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts, and then your voice softened. “No, I… I said yes because it was easy to talk to you. You didn’t seem intimidated by her. ” You gestured vaguely, indicating the version of you the world knew—the celebrity, the public figure, the icon. “It seemed like you were more interested in getting to know me.”

Rúben’s smile was soft as he nodded, clearly understanding what you meant. “That’s because I am.”

There it was—that calmness again, the way he didn’t flinch or overreact. He was steady, present, and focused on you, not the image the world projected of you. You appreciated that more than you could put into words, and it was why you felt so disarmed around him.

“People… people don’t always see me anymore,” you continued quietly, feeling more vulnerable than you expected. “They see what they want to see. The fame, the persona, the things they read in magazines. It’s exhausting sometimes, you know?”

He nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. “I can imagine. But that’s why I wanted to ask you out in the first place. I wanted to get to know you. Not the version of you everyone else thinks they know.”

There was something about the way he said it, with such honesty, that made you feel safe—like maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to carry the weight of your fame with you all the time.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you, the kind that came from being truly seen. “I’m glad I said yes,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Even if I was nervous.”

Rúben’s smile grew, and he leaned forward slightly. “Me too,” he said, his voice low and steady, and for the first time tonight, you felt like the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on you. It was just the two of you, sharing a moment, getting to know each other in a way that felt real.

“For the record, though,” he added with a playful glint in his eyes, “I still am intimidated by you. Look at you.” He leaned back slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Have you looked at yourself?”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading across your cheeks betrayed you. "Oh, come on."

“No, seriously,” Rúben continued, his expression shifting into something more sincere, but still playful. “I mean, you walk into a room, and it changes. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t throw me a bit.” He shrugged, a little self-deprecating. “But the part that matters—the part that got me to ask you out—is that it’s you behind all of that. And that’s what I’m here for. ”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. “Your job, what you do—it’s huge. I get that. People are obsessed with your work, with what you represent. But at the end of the day, it’s still just that—a job. And everyone has a job.” He paused, meeting your eyes with a soft smile. “It just so happens that yours comes with a lot more attention. That doesn’t change who you are.”

His words hit you like a punch, a force that knocked the wind out of you.

God, what the fuck. He’s perfect.

You blinked, trying to recover from the feeling, but the way he looked at you, so matter-of-fact, so sure, made it impossible. You weren’t used to this—someone seeing past the glamor, the spotlight, the fame, and just… you. The real you. No pretense, no agenda.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched for something to say, anything that wouldn’t make you sound completely floored by his simplicity and depth. But all you could manage was a soft, “That’s… wow.”

Rúben’s brow furrowed slightly, a small grin forming at the corner of his lips. “What?”

You shook your head, exhaling softly as you let your guard drop just a little more. “You just… get it. I don’t know how, but you do.”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m just being honest. I don’t think it’s all that complicated. You’re more than the job, just like I am.”

That did it. Your chest tightened, a strange mix of relief and disbelief swirling inside you. How did someone like him—calm, grounded, and yet so sincere—make you feel so seen? You bit your lip, fighting back a smile, wondering if he even realized the effect he was having on you.

You sighed, shaking your head again with a mix of amusement and gratitude. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Rúben grinned, leaning forward slightly. “I’m just a guy on a date, trying not to say the wrong thing.”

“Well, you’re doing a pretty good job so far,” you teased, feeling more relaxed than you had at the start of the evening.

The tension you’d been carrying with you since the moment you walked in was slowly unraveling, bit by bit, and as you looked at him, you realized you were glad you’d taken the chance. Maybe this wasn’t the simple, carefree date most people got to experience, but for tonight, it was close enough. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like your fame was the only thing defining you.

You found yourself leaning in slightly, the conversation between you flowing with an ease you hadn’t expected. He wasn’t looking at you like everyone else did, as if you were some untouchable figure. Rúben saw past the glitz, past the brand. He was here for the woman sitting in front of him, and that was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. It was refreshing, almost grounding, in a way you hadn’t known you needed.

Just as you felt the lightness of the moment settle in, the waiter discreetly placed the check on the table, offering a polite “Take your time,” before stepping back. As soon as the black leather folder hit the table, your hand instinctively reached for it, but before you could even touch it, Rúben’s hand was already there, swiftly grabbing it and pulling it out of your reach.

You raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-annoyed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He looked at you, his expression a mix of playful disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to split the bill,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Rúben laughed, shaking his head as if you’d just told him the most ridiculous joke. “You’re funny. Absolutely not. That’s not at all happening. I’m paying.”

You leaned forward, playfully trying to push back. “Come on, let me at least pretend I had a chance at paying. I need to keep my dignity intact.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart flip, and shook his head firmly. “No. Absolutely not. This is my treat. I asked you out, remember?”

You sat back, crossing your arms with a half-pout on your lips. “You’re making this difficult, you know.”

He chuckled again, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You can get the next one,” he teased, his tone light and casual.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of a “next one,” but you tried to play it cool. “Next one, huh?”

Rúben raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Unless you’re already planning on bailing on me?”

You shook your head, the playful tension between you lightening the mood even more. “Not bailing,” you said softly, the truth settling in as you looked at him. “I guess I’ll just have to let you pay this time.”

“Good,” he said, sliding his fingers across the edge of the checkbook. “Because that’s how it was going to go either way.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. It was moments like these, little glimpses of ease and lightheartedness, that reminded you why you’d said yes to this date in the first place. Even with all your initial anxiety, Rúben had managed to make the night feel lighter than you expected, and for once, you didn’t feel weighed down by the complications of your life.

He took his card out and paid without even glancing at the amount.

You took a small sip of your water, watching as the waiter thanked both you and Rúben and disappeared once more, leaving the two of you alone in the soft lighting. The atmosphere shifted subtly, quieter now, almost expectant. Rúben stood up first, reaching for your coat, and you followed suit, standing from the table.

When he held out your coat, you turned, feeling the light brush of his hands as he helped you slip it over your shoulders. The touch was brief but deliberate, his fingers grazing your arms in a way that sent a shiver through you. He took his time adjusting the collar of your coat, his movements slow, like he was savoring the moment.

You could feel the shift between you, an unspoken tension building, something that had been simmering beneath the surface. His hands lingered a second longer than necessary, and you felt your pulse quicken as his gaze met yours, his eyes darker than they’d been before. There was no denying the spark now, that quiet, magnetic pull that seemed to tighten the air between you.

He leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours, the warmth of his presence drawing you in like a current. His eyes flicked down to your lips for just a moment—long enough for you to notice, but not long enough for him to make a move. You felt a tug in your stomach—a longing, an anticipation—and you knew where this was headed. You wanted to kiss him, of course you did. He was sweet, attentive, calm, and his scent—a mix of something clean and warm—wrapped around you, making you want to melt into him.

And God, did he look good. He looked so good, that much you could admit to yourself when you walked in, despite the cloud of doubt that had loomed over you.

But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

You leaned back ever so slightly, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t kiss on first dates, you know,” you whispered, your tone playful but firm, just enough to keep him on his toes.

Rúben paused, a small smirk played on his lips. “No way I can convince you?” he asked, his voice low, playful, but with a hint of challenge in it.

His hand rested gently on your waist, the warmth of his touch steady but restrained. It wasn’t possessive, but more like a promise—one that made your heart skip a beat. The way he looked at you, with that quiet intensity, made it harder to stick to your own rules, but you weren’t going to let him win this easily.

With a soft laugh, you reached up, letting your hand brush against his arm, the touch light but deliberate. “You’ll have to try a little harder than that,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile.

His brow arched, amusement flashing in his eyes as he leaned just a fraction closer, his voice dropping lower. “I can be patient.”

The desire was there, simmering between you, but neither of you were rushing to give in. It was like a game, a slow dance where neither of you wanted to be the first to step forward.

You felt the spark, the undeniable tension, but you liked the way he wasn’t trying to force it. He was letting it build, savoring it just as much as you were.

“I guess we’ll see,” you teased, pulling back just enough to leave him wanting more, the playful glint in your eyes matching his.

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “You’re trouble,” he murmured, though the smile on his face told you he wasn’t complaining.

You grinned, feeling the lightness between you grow, the chase still very much alive. As you both stepped out of the private dining room, you noticed Eric stationed just outside, always quietly observing but never intrusive. He gave you a small nod before turning to Jason, who stood a few feet away. “Bring the car around,” Eric said quietly, his voice low and efficient.

Rúben placed his hand gently on the small of your back as you began to walk through the same service hallway you had entered from. The soft murmur of kitchen sounds echoed around you as you passed through the bustling space, the warm scents of food lingering in the air. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you, as if the weight of the outside world hadn’t quite caught up to you yet.

As you reached the end of the hallway, you slowed, noticing Rúben pause. He caught the attention of the restaurant owner, who had been discreetly overseeing the kitchen’s final tasks. With a quiet, purposeful gesture, Rúben handed him a small envelope—an unexpected but thoughtful gesture. The owner looked momentarily surprised, but Rúben’s words were warm, genuine.

“Thank you for everything,” he said, his voice steady but filled with sincerity. “The food, the dessert—it was perfect. But more than that, I appreciate how quiet and private the evening was. Your attention to detail, and everyone’s discretion… it meant a lot to us.”

The owner’s face softened into a grateful smile as he accepted the envelope. “It was our pleasure, Mr. Dias, Miss L/N. We’re happy you enjoyed your evening.”

You watched the exchange, feeling a quiet admiration for Rúben. He didn’t have to do any of this—personally tipping the staff, speaking so kindly to the owner—but he did it anyway, without hesitation, with the same quiet thoughtfulness he’d shown all night.

With that settled, Rúben guided you toward the back exit. As you approached, one of the restaurant employees stepped forward to hold the door open for both of you. You offered him a small smile, murmuring a quick “Thank you,” as you passed, and Rúben did the same, his voice calm and polite.

Stepping outside, the cool night air greeted you, a welcome contrast to the warmth you’d felt in the restaurant. The faint sounds of the city buzzed in the distance, but here, in the quiet alley behind the restaurant, it felt like you were in your own world. You took a deep breath, feeling the tension from earlier in the night dissolve a little more with each passing moment.

Just ahead, your SUV was already waiting, its black frame gleaming softly under the dim alley lights. Eric stood nearby, his posture relaxed but alert. As you approached, you fully expected Eric to open the door as he always did, but before he could move, Rúben was already a step ahead.

With smooth, instinctive grace, Rúben reached for the door handle, pulling it open for you. It was such a simple gesture, but it caught you off guard. You paused, looking at him for a second longer than you intended. You weren’t used to this. So few of the guys you’d dated before had ever bothered with the smallest acts of respect—holding doors, offering real consideration—and yet here was Rúben, doing it effortlessly. He wasn’t making a show of it, and it wasn’t an act. It was just who he was, and it took you a moment to process that.

You stood between him and the open door, the moment suddenly feeling more intimate than it had a right to be. As you adjusted your coat, a cool breeze brushed past, loosening a strand of hair from where it had been tucked behind your ear. Before you could reach for it, Rúben’s hand was already there, gently brushing the stray hair back into place. His touch was soft, tender, and the simplicity of it made your breath catch.

“I appreciate you coming tonight, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice warm and genuine. “I had a lot of fun. I’d like to keep getting to know you, as long as you’ll let me.”

His words were so sincere, cutting through any lingering tension with their honesty. You felt your heart flutter slightly at how real this all felt. Rúben wasn’t pushing for anything more than you were ready to give, but he made it clear that he wanted more, when you were ready for it.

You smiled up at him, your voice soft. “I’d like that, too.”

Before you could stop yourself, you rose on your tiptoes—despite the heels you were wearing—and gently placed a soft kiss on his cheek. His skin was warm against your lips, and you felt him lean into the touch, just slightly, like he was savoring the moment.

When you pulled back, his smile was gentle, his eyes still holding yours as he helped you up into the SUV with that same quiet grace he’d shown all night. You noticed how his hand covered the grab handle above the door, making sure you didn’t bump your head as you slid into the seat. It was another small detail, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

Before closing the door, he leaned down slightly, his voice low but gentle. “Please, let me know when you get home safely.”

You smiled, your heart warming at his thoughtfulness. “I will. Good night, Rúben.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

He smiled, giving you one last look that made your stomach flip before turning to Eric. There was a polite nod exchanged between them, a silent acknowledgment of respect from both sides. Eric returned the gesture before stepping aside.

As the door closed and the SUV pulled away from the restaurant, you sank into the plush leather seats, sighing softly, dreamily. A small smile tugged at your lips as the city lights blurred outside the window. Rúben had been… well, everything you hadn’t expected but had secretly hoped for.

Eric slid into the front seat, glancing at you in the rearview mirror with a knowing look. “Good date?” he asked, though you could hear the teasing in his tone.

You couldn’t hide your smile as you nodded, sinking further into the seat. “Yeah… it was.”

As the car rolled through the quiet streets of the city, your thoughts drifted back to Rúben, to the way his hand had felt on your waist, the way his gaze had lingered on yours. You weren’t sure where things would go from here, but for the first time in a long time, you felt excited about the possibilities. And for tonight, that was more than enough.

author's note: sorry for making y'all wait for so long! let me know what y'all think :)

#ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias x you #secret moments

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