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likelysobbing · 2 days ago

Note

nah let reader get her lick back now cause I can’t have us going down like this. Reader needs to get with one of the team immediately but it’s not like no rebound things it’s fr serious and Paige cannot stand it but who cares anymore?

𖥻 STUNNED. azzi fudd x reader x ex!paige bueckers (for the streets 2)

synopsis: paige’s eyes are on other girls, so azzi’s eyes sure as hell won’t let off of you now—and they’re the loveliest you’ve ever had the honor to look back at.

notes: RAHHH here it is! FOR THE STREETS part 2 ! hi nonnie! this is lightly, lightly, lightly LIGHTLY based off a song called makasarili malambing by hev abi and kristina dawn. sorry this took so long i was receiving my education! also, 3k+ words. if u read this u better read it all the way…tell me what u think too. i love interaction hehehe. also, i tried not to make paige suffer VIVIDLY, because i feel like it hurts more for player!paige to just silently regret #EL EM AY OH. thank u. also i put emphasis on eyes (adoration), the color green (envy), and make a lot of references to the previous fic. it’s linked on this post so go on and read it if you haven’t already <3 also, tagging @elalfywhore as per request hehe. hope you guys like it.

cw: READER’S A BIT OF A BITCH AT FIRST, But ends up folding because no one resists azzi bro, readers sassy, azzi is insistent, paige has avoidant attachment issues, no distinct establishment of a relationship but there is an implication of azzi and reader being more and both parties being okay with that (except paige. paige didn’t consent), PLAYER!paige

azzi always watched you.

you ignored it, especially while you were with paige—but she always watched you. azzi’s eyes seemed to favor trailing down your body more than anything else. whenever you ran into her and paige, back when you were still a couple, you had always kissed paige on the cheek—and azzi nearly leaned in everytime you approached her for a hug; maybe she expected a kiss on the cheek too— that’s funny, actually. but that’s unlikely, right? you ignore it. there was no way. no way she could have had any sort of interest in you.

especially now that you’ve practically estranged yourself from paige and her friends; that includes the basketball team. you haven’t said anything to them beyond ‘hi’ , ‘bye’ and ‘have a good day’—and they know why. they understand why. who wouldn’t want to do the equivalent of bury themselves in a hole if their ex girlfriend who they were so intent on marrying ended it all through a phone call while getting head from another woman? come on. you were sure they understood.

included in this very obvious mass-in-real-life-ghosting phase was none other than paige’s closest friend, miss goo goo eyes, miss azzi fuckin’ fudd.

you really tried to get her eyes off you, but it didn’t matter in the end.

azzi always watched you.

or like, maybe it was watch over instead of simply watch. watching over was more akin to what she did—she always checked in on you, maybe when she thought you weren’t looking her eyes would end up somewhere on your body that wasn’t necessarily scandalous—more so the space between your neck and shoulder or a collarbone. regardless, she had her eyes on you.

but watching you or not, you’re sure azzi didn’t mind you distancing yourself. you’re 100% sure she understood you being a bit too far to look at now? there was no need to dwell on it. you’re sure. you’re 100% sure.

… okay, well, maybe you’re 99.99% sure.

azzi sat across from paige, eyes slightly narrowing and widening as she felt the burn of yet another shot. the bass boomed in both of their ears, and each beat rung through their brain, but all azzi could focus on was that paige had let you go.

you. sweet, lovely, you.

she knew she wasn’t being slick when she watched you—her eyes always seemed to rake down every one of your features, and she wasn’t embarrassed about it. you were beautiful, and in paige’s arms you found your place. azzi couldn’t trespass on that—not because of paige, but because of you. you genuinely believed paige was inlove with you—pathetic, unheard of, even—but with how paige treated you, azzi began to believe it too… or she would’ve, if she knew paige less.

azzi didn’t rain on your parade of delusions hemmed by paige’s beautifully sown in lies.

but she wouldn’t deny that you would look better with her.

“you’re thinking again.”

there it is; paige was never one to think a lot, so she always questioned why azzi did. her decisions spoke for themselves. azzi pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, tilting her head just enough to turn her nose up at paige, who grins like she knows what this look is. azzi always seem to come up with the craziest shit, and right now—paige’s excited to see what she comes up with next.

“what you thinking of?” uconn’s number five asks, that drunken lilt unmistakable as she balanced speaking to uconn’s #35 and getting a lap dance from the girl she beckoned over (she knew nothing about her besides the fact she had a nice ass). azzi shakes her head, one side of her lips quirking up. that mystery only serves to make paige even more curious—as always, she doesn’t think twice about digging deeper.

“nah, come on, there’s something—“

“no, paige,”

“there’s someone.”

well, azzi can’t deny that, can she?

so, she burrows deeper into her seat and looks away. paige points at her like she just connected all the dots, going “oh!” like a frat boy surprised that his hunch was even correct. “who’s she?”

“she’s a she.”

“she’s a she and her name is what?”

“she.”

“that’s not a name, bro—“

“how do you know she isn’t a name?”

“bro. don’t do this. i’m drunk.”

by this point, azzi’s (a little bit!) drunk too. there’s adrenaline in her veins; sprinkle in that crazy audacity that paige seems to have all the time, and she could simply say what’s on her mind right now. or, maybe she should just say it to get it off her chest.

“your ex.” azzi murmurs. paige’s eyes darken, flickering from the common deviousness azzi’s so familiar with to something genuine she can’t seem to place. her jaw tightens, smile faltering just enough to make azzi’s own quirk up.

the lights flicker from red, yellow, green and purple randomly. by this point, she’s used to the strain—shes even memorized the pattern. the lights are going from red, to yellow, green, purple— purple again. so why … is paige all green?

“sorry, i don’t mean to impose,” was what she said to you first. you couldn’t even register she was near you at all. why was she even here, sitting next to you in a nearly empty library she’d probably benefit more studying alone in? you weren’t even in the same major. if she had a test to study for, you’d be of no help.

it was stupid of you to even assume studying was on her mind.

she just… did her own thing. in silence. she didn’t push, didn’t press, didn’t— she didn’t do anything. she was just on her phone. why was she in the library if she didn’t have any work to do? she had a whole friendgroup—maybe she did it to get away from them? wait, but why would she need to get away from them? did she need to hide? was she annoyed? why would she be annoyed? well, you don’t suppose it was paige, paige would definitely be quite an annoyance—

“yes?”

her voice is soft. softer than a feather landing on your skin. yet, like a feather, amidst how light her voice is—you feel it. it’s one word, but it takes just that to make you feel the one feeling you know will lead to more than multiple disasters.

interest.

you are interested in her.

azzi fudd’s big brown eyes were something you (and anyone in your place) could only resist for so long, and with one bat of her eyelashes and the flash of her sweet smile that—oddly—didn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth. atleast, not like it usually did. you never saw her as anything more than paige’s bestfriend who was kind of into you (but also simultaneously there was no way she was into you because she was so pretty).

“you’ve been silent for the past two minutes.”

you blink. “… sorry.”

azzi smiles, again, and this time— you can’t help but smile back.

but it’s not that serious, isn’t it? there’s no harm in introducing new people into your life. there’s no harm even if it’s your ex’s bestfriend who’s watched you with for so long, and with such pretty eyes. there’s like, literally no harm.

you wouldn’t let there be any harm. you could open your heart to her a little. deal with her presence if it’s constant. bite back when needed, push away when called for, right?

“that’s okay.” she replies to you smoothly, looking back at her phone. “—just haven’t seen you in a while, you know.” she offers, and you freeze up. she doesn’t stop speaking. “i kind of.. missed you being close. like i get why—i understand, too, i just— you know..”

“yeah, i know you know. paige wasn’t really subtle with the breakup.” you murmured, “did she send you here to check on me, azzi?”

azzi blinks, scandalized by the accusation. “what… no? i don’t—i would never. i’m not like her— i mean, not like that— i just.. wanna be here?”

you raise an eyebrow, skeptically. “at this specific library?” and azzi inhales, “please don’t make me say what i know you know already.”

“i know a lot of things. but i don’t know what you think i know.”

“don’t you?”

“do i?”

“i just wanna be with you.”

that was easier to get out than you expected. hm, okay. okay— you tilt your head. “you’ve been with me enough, with how much you seem to hang around paige.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i’ve only ever known you as one of her minions.”

azzi’s eyes widen, and she nearly gasps—once again— SCANDALIZED, by your statement—but she doesn’t. infact, you don’t expect what she does—because she takes your jab in stride.

“wooow, minions, huh? okay, well—why don’t you try to get to know me beyond it?”

“i’d actually rather not. i know who you hang out with.”

“just because i hang out with her doesn’t mean—“

you interrupt her with the zip of your backpack and the slam! of your books closing. “you’re all talk. you never act.”

azzi tries to cut you off with a little “hey, wait—“, her hand on your wrist, her eyes wide and pleading but you do not budge.

you shake her hand off your wrist when she tries to stop you from standing up. it’s the perfect picture of cold ruthlessness you know paige doesn’t believe you have—and you know what? if azzi is going to act like a messenger pigeon, which you assume she is, then you’re going to make sure she has a lot to say to paige when she comes back.

unbeknownst to you, azzi looks at what was once your chair and frowns. she feels your absence more than paige does. more than paige ever will.

and it stings. both for you, and her.

she comes to you again. this time, you’re in another library, and somehow she has enough devotion to presumably ruining your life that she finds you. she smiles when she sees you, waving with a tiny ‘hello’.

you place your bag onto the chair next to you and go back to work. you’re in the zone, there’s nothing stopping you— apparently besides the girl plopping your bag down onto the (dirty!) floor. how rude. how does she have the nerve to sit next to you? why does she still think you’re good? she may want to ‘be in your presence’ but who said anything about you wanting to be in hers? what the hell does she think shes doing?

“i think maybe you should let me tell you what i’m doing here.”

“i actually think you should leave.”

“i’ve only sat next to you twice.”

“twice too many.”

theres a silence on the other end and you think you won. you can’t help the smile on your face—the rejection felt good, in a sort of cruel way. azzi didn’t have any part in you and paige’s downfall, but she did stand by and watch it—you—burn.

so you’d set fire to whatever she was dreaming of in return.

“i always thought you looked better with me.”

record scratch.

“you’re crazy.”

“i am not.” she replies, “just a tad bit tipsy.”

“it’s nine pm?” you scoff, and she shrugs, “pre-game. anyway, i mean it. i always thought you looked better with me. you would, wouldn’t you?”

this time, you leave in a hurry. there’s literally nothing but ‘evacuate’ in your head as you rush to pack your bags, spouting whatthefuckwhatthefuck in your brain as azzi, realizing the utter stupidity of her actions, begins to flail her arms around directionless as she tries to stop you from leaving again.

“okay maybe that was a little bit uncalled for, i’m sorry let me rephrase—“

“no, i am not letting you— and no, i do not wanna find out. you got me fucked all the way up—“

“listen, okay, i just think you’ve always been out of her league—“ she tries to reason, and you look at her incredulously.

“you’re talking about paige bueckers.” you say, back now turned to azzi as you begin to walk out.

azzi shakes her head, already toeing behind you— “i’m talking about my close friend. one who couldn’t see your worth— please, will you let me try again? god, i’m sorry— you’re just so pretty, okay? and you’re so fucking sweet, you have such a pretty face and i just can’t help but look at you—“

“that is so creepy, azzi.”

“it is! i’m sorry!” she whines, obviously more than tipsy, “i’m sorry! just—“ she takes you by the hand, and you freeze up because it’s been quite a while since you’ve had physical contact that had even a smidge of romantic intent, and when you look back— god, there it is.

big, brown eyes.

looking right at you, a tad bit glossy—wide, and paired with by far the prettiest pout you’ve ever seen. “please.” she whispers, keeping in mind how you’re technically still in the library and she’s been looked at thrice for her theatrics—“please? just… let me hang around. i’m not going to force anything i just—want to know you.”

you’re stunned.

you’re in no state to properly answer; your mind is going a mile a minute, and so in desparation to just speak— you speak with your heart.

“nnn… okay.”

that was your heart. it forgot all reason, dignity, and self respect, apparently.

maybe azzi giving you a wide, toothy smile was worth it though.

“you’re seeing her?” paige repeated, some drink she forgot the name of swirling in her cup. azzi nodded, “figured she’d need something soft to land on.” she murmured, and though her words seemed casual—there was more meaning to them than paige could understand. azzi’s tone was expectant, hopeful—she wanted something to bloom between the two of you—something nice. pretty. good.

“and what is that? your chest?” paige’s reply interrupts her, and though she tries to sound teasing—she sounds more... irritated.

“maybe.” azzi grins.

“get outta here.” paige scoffs, taking another swig of her drink as she slumps back into her chair. “you can have her, it’s whatever bro. liter-ally whatever.”

“mhm.”

azzi’s nonchalance only bothers paige even more.

“i hope you understand i’m not ready yet.” was the first thing you said right after that awkward moment back at the library, “for a relationship, i mean. like, this fast.” you clarified.

azzi nodded, bouncing off you well, “oh, me too—you don’t need to see me as a threat. i just want to know you. i know it’s going to be hard, considering well.. your ex is my best friend. paige doesn’t mind—“ she pauses, before trying to reword. “i mean that—“

“oh, that’s fine. i can tell she doesn’t.” you wave it off, and azzi just smiles apologetically as she continues. “even if it’s hard on the both of us, i want to see where this goes. i’ve watched you too long to not want to be close.” azzi shyly murmurs, before trying to rekindle a lighter atmosphere— “just don’t get sassy with me, okay? i don’t like fighting with you.”

it’s been five months now. since she’s said that.

specifically, since azzi began to try to woo you. every flower she gave was always your favorite one, every ramble you graced her with was met with actual listening ears and comprehension, and nearly every thing you wanted? you had it in your hands the next day. azzi wasted no time in trying to show you she in fact, wasn’t like bueckers (who seemed to be meaner these past weeks, impossibly)—you never had to doubt her.

like actually. you never had to doubt azzi.

she didn’t knock on your door three times, but she was… special. enough. to have a key by the third month. she didn’t look you in the eye all that much, too shy to properly maintain it, but you knew she watched over you anyway. and when she held your hand, she was the one that squeezed first.

even if she hasn’t popped the question yet, there is no doubt in your mind that she’s yours already. she may have had grandeur, but unlike paige, she did not let it define her love for you. no, she won you over by the littlest things. the things that mattered.

its been five months now. since she’s said that.

and it’s felt like… six / seven … years?

however long it’s been, you know there’s a connection. and azzi knows too, because why wouldn’t she? she somehow knows everything. there’s always solutions to problems with her, always an answer to a math equation or an existential crisis— its all so different.

different from paige, you mean.

with azzi, you’re always… stunned— from how much effort she puts in, how bright her smile is, how she never seems to not have time for you—hell, you’re stunned whenever you see her. you know there’s something there, but you don’t know who’s going to make a move first—or atleast, when she is.

you don’t know if you should care at all. you don’t know if you should put yourself first, or if you even have real questions. you can’t even ask azzi like you’ve formed a habit of doing because she somehow always says the right things—you can’t even muster up a question for her: what would you say? ‘bro please kiss me already?’ no way.

“you ready to go?” azzi’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink to see her holding her hand out. ah, that’s right— you’re hanging out tonight. she’s taking you to her favorite spot across the town—that’s nice. you can’t wait to be with her.

you have so many questions you can’t muster, but maybe you don’t need to ask. maybe you just need to feel—her touch lingers far more than it stays, always tingling on your arm or your back; her absence causes you more heartache than you’d like; … it’s just her. maybe there are no more questions. maybe you don’t have questions, but either way, azzi has answers. she might as well be the answer to everything, actually. maybe there’s no need to dwell, no need to label it yet—lord knows what azzi wants.

you take azzi’s hand and she squeezes it first like she always does. it makes you smile wider this time.

this time, love is kind to you. it is soft and slow and yet passionate all the same. you don’t know where it might lead but the look in her eyes is worth it. this tenderness is worth it.

and you’re not afraid, wherever this might lead you.

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even. yet she’s not as big and bad as shes made herself out to be right now. not at all.

in the same booth she was a few months ago, paige now sits alone. there are girls aching to get home with her, and she’s half-picking who should get that honor—but she’s trying to distract herself more.

the lights go red, to yellow, green, purple—purple again. so why does she feel so green?

envy is a rattle snake, and it wraps around her entire body. it squeezes tight, cutting circulation off to the point she’s so stiff she might explode— but it’s not because of you and azzi.

it’s not.

not even when her jaw clenches at the thought of you. and azzi. azzi is her bestfriend, and when she outright admitted to thinking about making moves on you—paige brushed it off with a laugh and a playful “she can’t even talk to half of us, bro—i got her heart broken … or like heartbroken or something.” but now, here she is.

and she’s not heart broken. shes not even bothered at all. she’s not.

she just doesn’t like to see you so close. why would she want you close? she’s done her time. pulled you in closer. you always burrowed in deep, she felt you in her heart. maybe that’s what sickened her— the feeling of endearment. you tried to reach your way in, but to paige it felt like you were tearing her apart—ripping her to shreds to crush the organ in your hands and make the victory against her sweeter.

she’s not heart broken. why would she be? there’s no one here breaking her heart.

there’s no one she lets close enough to even have a shot at it.

there is only her. and while she may not accept it, especially now? now that you are gone? now that she’s driven you away like she once did with every other girl who’s ever tried to come close—although you came closest—who came her way?

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even.

but her heart breaks, and she’s the one breaking it.

@likelysobbing.

#paige bueckers uconn #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #uconn paige bueckers #uconn x reader #azzi fudd x reader #azzi fudd #azzi x reader #azzi fudd uconn #does this count as pazzi #pazzi #pazzi x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wcbb x reader #uconn wcbb #uconn women’s basketball

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p1astr81 · 3 days ago

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could I please request oscar and a quiet night in monaco. sort of like walking around at night, watching a movie and cuddling etc (if you've already done this I'm sorry and don't feel pressured to write this ❤️ )

Idk how this got SO angsty sorrryyyyy 🙈

“Where are you going?” Oscar asked, seeing your shoes laced up on your feet. He could see your exhaustion in the way your shoulders slumped.

“Going for a walk.” You gave him a soft, pained smile. “need to clear my head.” You explained.

He understood. He knew you weren’t adjusting well after having moved to Monaco from England. You missed the quiet countryside and the acres of space that came with it. Everything was so loud here. Busy. Cramped. “I can come with you if you want.” He offered, hoping you’d agree.

Sighing, you turned your gaze to the floor. “I don’t want to bother you. I know you’re working.” She gestured to where he sat on the sim.

The headphones were torn off his head quickly as he stood. “No, it’s no bother. I wanna go.” He could see the conflict behind your eyes.

“Okay.”

The streets weren’t exactly quiet at night. Expensive cars still roared. Drunk travelers laughing into the air as they exited the casinos. but it was certainly calmer compared to the daytime.

Oscar held your hand in his. He’d been feeling guilty for dragging you to Monaco with him. No matter how many times you tried to tell him this was your choice to come with, he couldn’t buy it. “You could always go back. I won’t be upset.” He told you, breaking your comforting silence.

There was no stutter in your step. No visible indicator that you had even heard him. After awhile you spoke. “No. I want to be with you. I’ll get used to it eventually.” It broke his heart to hear how reserved your voice was. How you didn’t even look up at him to spare him a glance.

The silence prologued, quiet steps in sync. You continued to stare at the pavement while he stared at the top of your head. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand.

“I want you to be happy.” He spoke finally.

You raised your head, and for a moment he thought you might meet his eyes. “I am happy. Being with you makes me happy. I’m just not… comfortable.” Still, your eyes didn’t meet his. They took in the sights of the city instead.

He squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry.” He muttered.

“Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.” You shook your head. “I just need time.”

When you got back to the flat, Oscar led you to the couch. “Stay there. I’ll get the snacks.” His smile was soft, inviting like a warm hug.

He came back with his arms full of your favorite candies and cans of your favorite sodas. You laughed lightly. “Thank you.”

You curled up into his side as he joined you, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. When he selected your favorite movie, you giggled and held him tighter.

It had been four months since you guys moved in. And while you still weren’t fully adjusted, you were back to your regular cheery self.

His lips split into a toothy smile when he saw you practically skip to where he stood in the kitchen. “Heyyy,” you dragged out the word. “I’m gonna go get some ice cream from the parlor down the street if you wanna come with?” You grinned, placing your head on his shoulder. You knew he couldn’t say no to you.

“Can I have a taste of yours?” You asked, beaming at him.

He didn’t respond with words, just held the spoon out towards you. He was boring, ordering his ice cream in a bowl instead of in a cone. You both paused on the pavement as you took the spoon from his hand.

The frozen treat slid from the plastic ware onto your tongue. The sweet flavor hit your tastebuds, and you responded with a delighted hum. “Ooh, it’s good!”

Then your gaze went to the cone in your hand, looking guilty with a little frown.

“Do you want to switch?” He asked the question for you, seeing it already etched on your face. But he knew you’d never ask it yourself.

And you looked up at him, your smile brighter than the sun. “Yeah,” you said sheepishly.

He chuckled, taking the cone from your hand and giving you his bowl.

He didn’t want a cone. He thought they were too messy, and he hated when the ice cream would drip onto his hand and make it all sticky.

But it made you happy, and he’d do just about anything to see you happy.

You continued your walk back to the flat, standing so close to each other that your arms kept brushing. The brush of his skin against yours was comforting.

And you realized that it didn’t matter where you were, whether it be Monaco or England. You felt at home as long as you were with him. He was home.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #op81 #f1 x you #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri blurb

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tarotwithavi · 2 days ago

Text

You from the eyes of your lover

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist 🌷 extended masterlist

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THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT 💞🫶🏻

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 1

When I look at you, it feels like the world slows down just a little. You are the place where my restless heart finds its rhythm. With you, it’s not just love, it’s recognition like my soul has been looking for you in every lifetime and finally, finally found you.

There’s a fire in you that keeps me awake at night, a spark that makes me want to dream bigger, run faster, live louder. You move through life like a storm wrapped in sunlight, fierce, beautiful, unforgettable. You make me believe that maybe, just maybe, love is supposed to feel like this. Wild and free and terrifying in the best way.

You make me want to build a life, not just a moment. To hold traditions close, to create a world with you where things are sacred and real. You’re not just someone I love you’re someone I trust without even trying. Someone who feels like something ancient and holy written into my bones.

I see the way you guard your heart sometimes. I see the walls you’ve built, and I see the strength it took to still leave the door open. And I swear to you, every time I see that quiet bravery in your eyes, I fall in love with you all over again.

With you, love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a journey I want to be on every single day. Through storms, through silences, through dreams I haven't even dared to speak yet.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 2

You are the warmth that fills the empty spaces inside me. You are laughter echoing through lonely rooms, sunlight spilling over broken places I thought would never heal. With you, love feels real, not something imagined or wished for, but something I can hold, something I can build a forever with.

When I look at you, it feels like watching a heart in motion, choosing between fear and hope with every breath. You carry such a soft strength, the kind that does not scream for attention but moves mountains quietly. You are the pause before the promise, the calm before the celebration. Being near you feels like arriving somewhere I have been searching for my whole life.

I know you have seen the kind of endings that leave marks on a soul. I know there are mornings when you still carry the weight of yesterday in your chest. But to me, even your scars are sacred. Even your sadness is beautiful. You are not what happened to you. You are what rose after it.

Sometimes I see you lost in thought, drifting away from the moment, wondering if you are enough, if happiness is something meant for you. I wish I could press my hands against your doubts and kiss them away. I wish you could see yourself the way I do, not just beautiful, but unforgettable.

With you, love feels like building something real with hands full of dreams and a heart full of courage. You are my foundation and my flight. You are my reason to believe that love can be both soft and strong at once.

You are not standing still, my love. You are moving toward everything you ever deserved. And I will be right here, choosing you over and over, with every step, with every breath, with every piece of who I am

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 3

When I look at you, it feels like every forgotten piece of me wakes up. You are laughter wrapped in sunlight, a melody sweeter than anything I could have ever asked for. Being near you feels like breathing in a life I had only dreamed of from a distance.

You are my warmth, my safe place, my wild joy. You are the reason the world feels beautiful again. Your smile could tear down walls I built around my heart without even trying. You carry a kind of happiness that feels like magic, the kind that stays, the kind that heals without asking for anything in return.

I see your strength, the way you carry your battles inside you and still choose to shine. There is a power in you that humbles me, a softness that makes me believe in forever. You are made of the kind of courage that bends but never breaks, the kind of love that holds and forgives and chooses again, even on the hard days.

There is something about you I cannot escape. Something that pulls at me like gravity, like a song that only my heart can hear. You are fire and freedom, temptation and tenderness. Every time I touch you, it feels like being set alight and saved all at once.

You awaken every dream in me. Every hunger. Every hope I thought I had buried. With you, love feels like creation itself, raw and wild and sacred. You are the spark behind every risk I am willing to take, every future I dare to imagine.

And still, beyond all the wildness, there is a quiet in you that I worship just as much. A soul that needs space and silence, a spirit that goes deep where the world cannot follow. I would wait a lifetime just to sit beside you in your silence, to be the hand you reach for when you come back into the light.

You are not just my love. You are the universe written in skin and soul. You are the reason I believe that some loves are written long before we are even born

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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lazysoulwriter · 2 days ago

Text

the love we hide. - pedro pascal.

requested! hope you like it, honey. thank you for sending.

----

You always knew dating Pedro Pascal wouldn’t be easy. Not because he made it difficult — if anything, he made it feel like the most natural thing in the world. It was the world around him, the world that didn't stop spinning faster and louder with every new movie, every new award, every new headline with his name in bold letters.

From the start, he had asked for your privacy. "I just... want this to stay ours for as long as we can," he'd whispered one night, arms wrapped tightly around you, voice heavy with something that felt like fear. And you agreed. Happily. Proudly. You understood.

But lately... it had started to hurt.

The more his fame grew, the more invisible you felt. He walked red carpets with stunning co-stars, smiled in interviews when asked about his love life ("I'm married to my work," he'd joke), and your phone buzzed with articles, photos, videos of him living a life you weren’t allowed to share publicly.

And no matter how much you told yourself you were strong enough, you started pulling away. Little by little.

Skipping dates under the excuse of being tired. Replying to his texts hours later. Letting your hand fall from his when no one was watching. Convincing yourself it would hurt less this way. That he wouldn't even notice.

Of course, Pedro noticed. Pedro always noticed you. Every blink, every breath, every tremor in your voice. You were his favorite story to read.

It all came crashing down on a quiet Tuesday night. You were supposed to have dinner at his place — just the two of you, homemade pasta, a bottle of wine. Your favorite kind of night.

But you canceled, blaming a headache. And when you didn't answer his third call, he showed up at your apartment, heart pounding, palms sweating.

You opened the door, still in your pajamas, surprised and guilty at the same time.

"Pedro—what are you doing here?"

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, eyes scanning you, searching for something. "Why are you doing this?" he asked softly.

You swallowed hard. "Doing what?"

He laughed, but there was no joy in it. Only hurt. "You think I don't see it? You think I don't feel you slipping away from me?"

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but you blinked them away. "It's better this way," you whispered. "For who?" he demanded. "For you!" you snapped, voice cracking. "You're becoming Pedro Pascal. You deserve someone who can stand next to you, someone who belongs in your world. Not someone you have to hide."

Silence. Heavy. Devastating.

Pedro stepped closer, closing the space between you with careful, deliberate steps. His hands framed your face, thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t even realize had started to fall.

"You think I’m hiding you because I'm ashamed?" he asked, voice breaking. "You think I don’t want the whole damn world to know you're mine?"

You shook your head helplessly, but he wasn’t finished.

"I was trying to protect us," he whispered. "Protect you. From the cameras, from the gossip, from people who don't know anything about how beautiful and strong and perfect you are."

You let out a broken sob, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you like he'd never let go. Like he couldn't.

"I notice everything about you," he said into your hair. "Every smile you force. Every time you don't call me 'love' like you used to. Every night I sleep in an empty bed because you're trying to convince yourself I’m better off without you."

You clung to him, sobbing now, your heart cracking wide open. "I'm sorry," you choked out.

He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids. "Don't be sorry," he whispered. "Just stay. Stay with me."

You nodded against his chest, breathing him in like he was the only air you needed. "I love you," you said, and his body trembled with the weight of it.

"I love you," he echoed. "So much. So much that I can't—"

He pulled back slightly, enough to reach into his jacket pocket.

Your breath caught when you saw the small velvet box.

Pedro smiled through the tears shining in his eyes. "I was going to wait," he said. "I had a whole plan. Paris. Fireworks. The whole cheesy thing."

You laughed wetly, heart hammering against your ribs.

"But I don't want to wait," he said, voice steady. "I don't want to hide. I don't want to spend another second making you feel like you're not everything I've ever dreamed of."

He opened the box. Inside, a delicate, breathtaking ring sparkled under your living room light.

"Marry me," he said simply. "Let’s tell the whole world you're mine."

You gasped, a hand flying to your mouth.

"Yes," you whispered, before throwing your arms around him. "Yes, Pedro. A thousand times yes."

He kissed you like it was the first time, the last time, and everything in between. When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling that soft, boyish smile that had made you fall in love with him in the first place.

"Tomorrow," he said, "I'm posting about you. About us. About my fiancée."

You laughed, giddy and overwhelmed and so, so in love. "Are you sure?" you teased. "Might ruin your mysterious reputation."

He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're worth ruining everything for."

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it. With your whole heart.

----

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raevpng · 2 days ago

Text

in between (pt. 1)

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

requested by this anon <3

masterlist

summary: paige and azzi spending their quarantine together, and maybe realising their true, hidden feelings along the way.

a/n: hey everyone! as usual, it’s late at night i know but i just couldn’t get this out my head! i plan on making this fic pretty long so i decided to make this a two part fic! i hope you guys like this and as usual, let me know what you think <3

—

it feels like a fever dream, really.

the way azzi’s eyes widened at the news of paige visiting all the way from minnesota, the way azzi ran to her outstretched arms with no hesitation, the floral scent of her shampoo lingering in her sweater even when they pull away, the way azzi’s parents’ eyes shone with a knowing glint.

the sheer fact that paige was really here, standing beside her after long months of distance.

it was 2020. the world was just shuttering into stillness, the streets suddenly quieter, the air heavier with uncertainty – covid had flipped everything upside down, and when the commencement of lockdowns were first announced, paige didn’t hesitate — she knew exactly where she wanted to be.

she remembers pleading with her parents, voice earnest and slightly desperate over dinner. she argued that she hadn’t seen azzi in so long, that being apart felt wrong in a way she couldn’t explain. paige remembers whining and her solemn promises to to use her own allowance and paycheck for the tickets as well as to always wear a mask and sanitize everything in sight. it took a while and definitely lots of begging, but amy had finally caved after several facetime calls with tim and katie, who promised to keep her safe and fed. paige still remembers the way azzi had let out the loudest cheer when she heard the news, so loud that even her parents laughed through the phone.

it was familiar.

now, standing in the doorway of azzi’s house with a duffel slung over her shoulder, paige felt that warm, grounding comfort settle into her chest.

azzi walked beside her, fingers threaded with hers like it was second nature. she carried one of paige’s bags with her free hand while her parents followed behind them, chatting quietly.

“okay honey,” katie smiled, stopping at the base of the stairs, “i’ll let you two settle in while i finish dinner. call us if you need anything, or if azzi refuses to let go like the clingy little koala she is.”

azzi pouted, clinging tighter to paige as katie ruffled her curls. paige just laughed and nodded in response, heart warm and chest tight in the best kind of way.

azzi’s grip on paige doesn’t waver as they wobble to azzi’s small but cozy space, paige trying to suppress the soft, fluttery feeling she always seems to get when azzi was close to her.

“azzi,” she laughed, nudging her lightly, “you gotta let me go so we can unpack y’know?” paige laughs softly, her heart warming at the soft sound azzi makes as she separates from her, as if it’s physically hurting her to put even an inch of distance between them.

she mourns the loss of warmth of soft skin immediately, but decides to laugh instead at the younger who was giving her a tour of her bedroom as if she hasn’t been here several times before.

“i cleared this drawer for you,” she said casually, zipping open one of paige’s bags, “so you don’t have to go digging through your old suitcase the whole time.”

“hey!” paige feigns offence, snatching the bag from azzi’s hands to do it herself, “first of all, rude. second…thanks az, you really didn’t need to. i’m already crashing here for a while, i wouldn’t wanna bother you more.” she finishes, her sincerity making azzi’s eyes soften.

azzi froze for a moment, lips parting like she was debating something. her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

“you’re never a bother, paige.”

the words were soft. honest. and when she looked up again, her eyes were steady yet vulnerable in a way paige didn’t see often.

“besides…” azzi bit her bottom lip, like she was still considering if she should say it at all.

fuck it.

“i’ve really missed you. i always do, and i really need you here — with me.”

the quiet sincerity in her voice left paige momentarily stunned.

they’ve always been close – endless of facetimes till the dead of night, friendship full of inside jokes and subtle jabs that held an affectionate undertone. but even then, their friendship always lived in that in-between space, filled with banter and shoulder bumps, with rare, almost accidental tenderness. they didn’t really say things like this. they didn’t need to.

but recently, they’ve just been… more. more affectionate in their words, more affectionate through actions, and feeling that soft, fluttering feeling pools in their stomach… more.

and paige didn’t know what to do with the soft fluttering in her chest, or the way azzi’s words echoed in her head louder than they should. they always just chalked it up to the distance and the closeness of their friendship, but it’s easy to pretend that the blush in their cheeks when they get too honest is because of the lighting in their facetimes.

but standing here, in azzi’s bedroom, with azzi looking at her like that? yeah. paige didn’t think jokes were gonna cut it this time.

and the worst part?

she didn’t want to.

–

they settled into azzi’s room slowly, almost like slipping into a favourite, worn out hoodie – comfortable, familiar, something that felt like home. paige’s shared playlist with azzi sounded softly through her speakers, just loud enough to make the girls hum along yet still soft to let a comfortable silence breathe between them. the late afternoon sky was darker now, streaks of pink and gold painting the sky just above azzi’s dresser where paige was folding her clothes in.

azzi was laying on her stomach, her eyes crinkled in silent laughter as paige folded her clothes messily. “you fold your shirts so weird.” azzi teased, head tilted.

paige gasped, feigning offense as she clutched her chest dramatically, “i do not!”

azzi let out a snort, burying her face in her covers to muffle her laughter. when she looks up though, the atmosphere shifts noticeably as she meets paige’s eyes – so soft, tender, with an unnamed yet loving feeling swimming in her deep blue eyes.

the moment lingered, quiet, yet so full at the same time.

“hey,” azzi broke the silence suddenly, her voice softer now, “do you remember the first time we talked? like really talked, in facetime and everything?’

paige raised an eyebrow, amusement filling her features, “you mean the time you accidentally you called me cause you were trying to add me on snap?”

“okay first of all,” azzi groaned, hiding her face in embarrassment, “that was a very understandable mistake. second, you’re welcome, cause if i didn’t you wouldn't be here in my room hogging up my space.”

“uh-huh.” paige grinned, setting down the last of her clothes in the dresser, turning fully to face azzi, “i remember you getting so flustered you hung up after like, two seconds. didn’t even say hi or bye or nothing.”

“yeah because you looked too pretty and i panicked.” the words left azzi’s lips before she could catch them.

it was quiet for a beat, the soft hum of the fan and whatever song was still playing filling the air.

paige blinked as her heart stuttered. “what?”

azzi’s eyes widened, realization hitting her like a wave. she sat up slowly, avoiding paige’s gaze but not looking away entirely. her cheeks flushed the softest shade of pink that god – paige thinks it’s just unfair how pretty she looks. “i just mean… well yeah, you did. you looked really pretty, and i wasn’t expecting to actually see you face-to-face yet, so i kinda just freaked out.”

paige’s heart was hammering now, not from surprise, but from the way azzi looked at her with brown eyes so earnest – like she wanted paige to know the truth for once instead of hiding it in a joke. paige wanted to say something, knowing the silence on her end was stretching too long for it to be comfortable. so she blurted out the raw truth in her head, “i thought you were pretty too. still do.”

azzi looked up then, brown eyes meeting blue.

for a moment, everything else faded – the soft music, the buzz of the fan, the faint sounds of katie calling for dinner downstairs, it was still. it was just them, breathing in the same air, looking at each other like they had more to say but didn’t know how to say it yet.

paige let out a shaky laugh, chest tight, needing to defuse the tension before her heart gave out. “god, we sound like we’re in a movie right now.”

azzi grinned, that shy dimple that paige adored with everything in her making an appearance. “a really slow one.”

“the slowest,” paige agreed, nudging azzi’s leg with her foot, earning a soft smile from the other.

azzi paused, hesitation clear in her body language, but with rare boldness within her seizing her, she reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind paige’s ear, fingers lingering a moment too long on her cheek.

“but maybe worth it,” she said softly.

paige swallowed hard, the space between them suddenly feeling a little too charged, too electric.

“maybe,” she whispered back.

from downstairs, katie’s voice rang out again, jolting them from the moment.

“girls! dinner’s ready!”

azzi stood first, offering her hand to paige. she took it without hesitation, her fingers curling into azzi’s like they belonged there.

and maybe they did.

maybe they always had.

–

the dining room glowed with a warm light, scattered conversations around the table while paige and azzi settled to their seats which are, of course, right beside each other. the spread on the table was mouthwatering, paige’s stomach grumbling at the heavenly sight of baked salmon with roasted vegetables on the side, fresh garden salad in the middle, and a plate of steaming dinner rolls fresh from the oven. it smelled like home, like comfort, like everything paige had yearned for all this time, even if she didn’t know what it was yet.

tim sat at the head of the table, already two bites into his dinner with a satisfied groan, while katie flitted between making sure everyone had enough water and playfully scolding her husband for not waiting.

paige laughed softly, watching the scene unfold with a fond smile. she’d always loved being in the fudd’s home, similar yet so different from hers. louder in some ways, and softer in others, yet the unmistakable familial feeling settled in her chest, fondness overwhelming her as she watched the banter between azzi’s siblings and the teasing looks between tim and katie.

and sitting here now, thigh brushing azzi’s under the table, she felt it even more.

as they start eating, katie starts handing out food, “paige, want some veggies?”

before paige could even open her mouth to protest politely, azzi beats her to it. “yes, she definitely does.”

paige raised an eyebrow quizzically, nudging her best friend softly with her elbow, “damn, speaking for me now huh?” she teases, making the other stick her tongue out before plopping a few greens and baby corns on her plate.

“i just know you, that’s all. you need to be forced or else you won’t have anything healthy in you.” azzi teased, a little smirk tugging at her lips.

tim raised an eyebrow at the girls’ interaction, eyes twinkling with mischief, “you two have been awfully close lately.”

katie joins him with a soft hum, a small smirk forming in her lips as a light blush makes its way to the girls’ cheeks.

“we’ve always been close,” azzi replies, trying her best to seem cool and collected, choosing to ignore the heat in her face and instead reaches for a roll, passing one to paige without even looking.

Paige, on the other hand, seemed to have given up on trying, mumbling a silent thanks before stuffing it in her mouth trying to diffuse the stubborn blush that won’t go away.

tim just hummed in agreement, skeptical but clearly not wanting to push, “it has been a while though paige, we missed you around here! one of us more than the others.”

azzi just groaned at the implication, but paige smiled warmly at the confession. “well, the feeling’s mutual.” paige whispered, feeling a little bold.

and if azzi’s parents gave each other a knowing smile, paige didn’t notice.

not with azzi letting out a ragged breath while she reaches under the table to link her fingers with hers.

–

“your parents are crazy observant, huh?”

azzi looks behind her shoulder as she settles the dirty dishes in the sink, looking over at paige who was collecting the glass cups. “what do you mean?”

paige licks her lips, trying to decide how to phrase the mess of thoughts she had in her head, “i mean, they were just totally watching us the entire time.” azzi just shrugged.

“maybe they like seeing me dote on you,” she said with a teasing tilt on her head.

paige hums, “very true, you have been extra doting tonight. you want something don’t you” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, making azzi laugh loudly at paige’s accusation.

“i have no idea what you mean, p.” azzi grinned, stepping closer to the blonde, “i’m just tryna be a good friend.”

“mhm.” paige hums, a bold idea popping in her head. feeling braver, she slips her hands around azzi’s waist, whispering in her ear, “you sure you’re not trying to make me fall for you?”

azzi’s breath catches in her throat, her heart beating so damn loud she’s almost sure paige can hear it. her hands slide to the other’s chest in such an instinctive way azzi didn’t know what to think of it. she learned in slightly, “maybe, and what if i am?”

it was paige who froze now, every ounce of boldness in her body dissipating at the reciprocation of azzi’s actions.

were they…flirting?

before paige could process the younger’s words, she stepped away suddenly, a satisfied smirk replacing the shy one that was there literally just a few seconds ago, knocking paige’s breath away.

“better get these dishes done.” she said, walking to the sink like she didn’t just completely flip paige’s world upside down.

paige stood frozen for a second, stunned.

what is happening right now? what is this feeling right now?

then came the oh moment.

“oh fuck, i’m so screwed.”

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fic #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #pazzi one shot #they’re just BABIES

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narnian-neverlander · 18 hours ago

Text

One Night Stands Only [Jason Todd x GN!Reader]

Summary: It’s obvious Jason only has one night stands - right?

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4,6k

Warnings: none

A/N: Came across the DC Valentine’s special again and… yeah. Decided to do sth about it 💁

If you use any of my works for AI I will hunt you down for sport 😬

“You were right, it’s a nice place.” Bernard nods appraisingly, glancing around the newly opened bookstore, little café situated right in the middle. It’s not a new concept by any means, but the high ceilings and big windows allow the little natural light Gotham has to brighten the entire place and the cozy couches and booths scattered between shelves make for a nice and different respite from what the city usually has to offer. Tim hums in approval as he glances over the menu again. “Yeah; quiet, comfy, good coffee selection. I should thank the person who recommended it.”

“And who was that?” Bernard asks over his shoulder before greeting the girl working the counter and placing their order. Tim’s brows immediately furrow. “It was… I heard about it from… Uhm…” The blonde chuckles as he steers his boyfriend towards a nearby table, eyes flicking towards a corner sofa. “You think it might’ve been your brother?” Tim snorts. “Which one?” He receives a gesture at something behind him as an answer and finds Jason sitting on one of the couches a little further back, book propped open in his lap and a few more stacked on the small, round table in front of him and Tim nods. “Okay, sure, that tracks.” Bernard watches over Tim’s shoulder a few moments longer, then a small smile forms on his face. “I mean, yeah, it is a nice place for a date.”

Tim’s head snaps back around so fast it’s comical, a disbelieving, almost scandalized ‘Date?!’ out of his mouth before he can stop it. Sure enough, someone else has joined his brother, just in the process of placing two cups on the table - or trying to anyways; an almost impossible task with the amount of books already occupying the small space. And while he might not be able to hear either of you, he wouldn’t be part of a family of world class detectives if he couldn’t read lips.

‘Okay, should I just get like, a whole teapot now? How long do you plan on being here?’

‘Eh, not long.’

‘Jay, even you can’t read five books at once.’

‘Watch me.’

A cocky grin and an eyebrow waggle, which earns him an eye roll from the mystery person, albeit attached to a fond smile, followed by a shooing motion to scoot further down the sofa and make space, to which he obliges immediately. Tucked into Jason’s side, his arm coming around your shoulders entirely too naturally as both of you go back to your books, seemingly all settled and content to simply be in the other’s presence like this.

Tim turns back to his boyfriend with brows drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line and fingers tapping his chin in thought - and Bernard knows exactly what that look means. “Tim, switch outta detective mode. Your brother has a date, so what?” But the gears are clearly already turning and not stopping anytime soon. “It’s just… Jason only has one night stands.” It’s a look somewhere between surprise, disbelief and even offense before the blonde speaks up again. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous? You don’t know if—“ Tim vehemently shakes his head to interrupt him. “No, no, I mean that’s literally what he told me; what he tells anyone from the family who asks, as far as I’m aware.”

Bernard’s eyes move over to the couch again, simply observing for a few seconds before he shrugs. “Well, one night stands don’t exclude a date. Or maybe he’s changed his mind. People are allowed to do that, you know.” he says with an easy grin right as the little round sensor on their table starts vibrating, indicating their order is ready. He snatches the device up and stands, placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder, effectively gaining his attention. “Either way, I don’t think it’s anything for you to lose sleep over. Or any of your business, to be honest. If he is in a relationship and you don’t know, I’m sure he has his reasons.” He grabs the hand Tim has been busy biting the cuticles off of and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Just let it go, detective.”

With that he’s gone to pick up their drinks, meanwhile Tim almost turns his head to look at the couple again, but ultimately decides against it, instead racking his brain for wether or not any of his other siblings ever mentioned Jason having a partner, but nothing comes to mind. Fingers drumming against the table, he’s one spiraling thought away from getting up and going over there to satisfy the annoying itch of curiosity, but then he watches Bernard walk back towards him, a coffee cup in each hand and a happy smile on his face, his own heart skipping a beat at the sight, and he realizes that his boyfriend’s right. It doesn’t matter right now, nor is it any of his business; if this is someone, important to Jason, he would tell them - in his own time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay I had my doubts, but that was pretty good.” Stephanie states as she stretches her arms over her head, following the crowds out of the theater into the big entrance hall. Cass grins and nods enthusiastically in agreement, while Babs only shrugs and hums in thought. “I mean, sure, it was good; solid storytelling, breathtaking visuals, but—“

“I still think the book’s better, though.”

They all know it’s exactly what the redhead was gonna say, but it doesn’t come from her. Even so, the voice is familiar and all three of their heads snap up almost in unison to look for the source.

A joyful laugh, from around the pillar a little ways in front of them, followed by, “That’s the most Jason thing you could’ve said, ya know.”

Now that voice isn’t familiar to any of them, neither is the person who appears in their field of view a second later, hands linked with someone still hidden by the pillar - not that it’s still much of a secret who it is.

“So? It’s still true.”

The soft grin on the stranger’s face morphs into something more mischievous. “Riiight. I’m sure you hated every second of this. That’s why I saw some tears during a scene or two.”

A squeak as the person gets yanked forward, disappearing from sight again; then laughs can be heard accompanied with, “It was dark, you didn’t see shit.”

The three girls exchange glances, all wide eyes and raised brows. Then they watch the couple walk out into the open of the entrance hall, towards the exit, one of Jason’s arm’s wrapped tightly around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Cassandra is the first to shake off the stupor, a soft smile spreading across her face. “They’re cute together.” she signs. “Yeeeaaahhh…” Steph starts, staring at the doors the two had just left through. “Too cute. And definitely too familiar to just be a one night stand.” The wicked grin is a telltale sign of trouble and Barbara pinches the bridge of her nose because it doesn’t bode well for anybody.

“Just leave it alone, Steph.”

“Oh come on!” the blonde complains. “He’s the one who’s been telling us for ages that he doesn’t do relationships and now he’s out here all sweet and cozy and lovey dovey with someone? And you’re not the least bit curious? I say we investigate!”

Barbara levels her with a blank stare. “And you don’t think that might be the exact reason he doesn’t tell us anything?” Stephanie narrows her eyes at the redhead in suspicion. It’s unlike her, unlike Oracle, not to want all the details of a situation. “Did you already know?”

“Whatever gives you that idea?”

“Because you know everything. And wouldn’t you—“

Barbara doesn’t let her finish. “Would you want a date to be interrupted by your siblings just cause they feel like annoying you? Pestering you about your partner? Jason isn’t the most open, conversational person at the best of times; what do you think is gonna happen if he catches onto your little investigation?”

Steph is about to argue back that sure, while there’s some personal entertainment value involved, she just doesn’t like the idea of someone she cares about being with someone she doesn’t know. What if they’re not a good person? What if they end up hurting him? What if—

Her thoughts are interrupted by a hand on her shoulder and she turns to find herself looking straight into Cass’ dark eyes, her expression serious.

“They really like him, don’t meddle.” she signs.

That takes some of the wind out of Stephanie’s sails and she visibly deflates a bit. “You, uh… you could tell, huh?” The black haired girl nods eagerly and Steph runs a hand through her hair in contemplation. People are an open book to Cassandra, without her ever having to have exchanged a single word with them. If she says you’re fine, that you truly like Jason and have no bad intentions, then… then Steph could leave it alone with an easy conscience. For now, anyways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you for the assist, Master Richard, but I assure you, while welcome, it was not necessary.”

“It’s fine, Alfred.” Dick reassures while loading the last of the groceries into the back of the car. “I know you can handle the regular grocery shopping just fine, but it’s rare to have that many people at once at the manor; I’m glad to help out.”

The older man gives him a grateful smile in return, then plucks a piece of paper from inside his coat pocket and checks it over. “Oh dear, I do believe I’ve missed something.” he mumbles and hands the list over to Dick. “Master Richard, would you mind looking our current purchase over again, just in case? I’ll be right back.”

He watches Alfred hurry back towards the store, someone else exiting when he’s a few feet away from the entrance. A short exchange, quick thanks presumably, as the person holds the door open for him. Then you steer left, in his general direction and—

Hold on. He wasn’t here when him and Alfred got outta the store a few minutes ago.

The parking lot is situated lower than the actual store, some stairs to his right leading up to the higher level, so Dick takes a few steps backwards and cranes his neck back slightly, a leafless hedge partly blocking his view, but the tall, broad stature clad in a leather jacket and the black and white hair are a dead give away. He’s about to call out, surely his brother just didn’t spot him yet, but someone beats him to it.

“Okay, let’s go home.”

The person who’d just left the store. Most definitely talking to Jason. And you seem more than a little annoyed and exasperated.

Meanwhile his brother looks like he’s trying not to burst out laughing.

“What?” the mystery person barks, eyes narrowed at the tall man suspiciously.

“I know I did not just watch you whack an old lady over the head with a magazine cause she tried to take the steak from you.”

“It was the last one!” you complain and the tension bleeds from Dick’s shoulders as he realizes that this is in no way a serious altercation. “Besides, Constance had it coming, not the first time she tried to pull a stunt like that; she’s a fucking menace to everybody.”

Silence for a few long seconds. Then, “If you laugh right now, I swear to God I’m leaving you out on the street tonight, Todd.”

Jason snorts. “And then who’s gonna make the food you fought so hard to get? Sure as shit not you; last time I left you alone with the stove, I thought Firefly had broken into the apartment.”

Dick watches his brother’s conversation partner huff, arms crossed over your chest in defiance as you stare Jason down - until your shoulders sag in defeat and you break eye contact, because apparently, he’s right. “You’re lucky you’ve got other talents besides just being pretty, you know that?”

Jason takes the bags from you, met with only mild complaints, as he grins. “You think I’m pretty? Aw, thanks, babe.” You roll your eyes at that, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of your lips either way. “Leave the corny flirting to Nightwing, it doesn’t suit you.” And Jason actually has the audacity to scrunch up his face in distaste. “Hey now. I was only teasing you; comparing me to him is a straight up insult, take it back.”

“Make me~” you taunt with a sing-song voice and a mirthful smirk, then take off full speed in the opposite direction, past the store, with Jason hot on your heels not a second later.

And Dick hasn’t seen his little brother wear a smile that big in such a long time, he almost forgets to be offended.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian isn’t sure why he’s even here. It’s not like this has any actual academic value for him.

That’s Chrysaora fuscescens.

Over there, Hippocampus hippocampus.

And that one’s Anguilla dieffenbachii.

He’s studied all these creatures and more before and even if he wouldn’t learn anything new about aquatic dwellers, his father had insisted on him going on this field trip. Something about a chance to ‘improve his social skills’.

Tt.

If that’s the mission he’d been given, he’d succeed. Even if he thought it utterly unnecessary. At least he could do it in the presence of one of the most beautiful creatures on the planet, the mighty—

“Shark! Jason, look, there it is!”

With the level of excitement, one would think it’s coming from a child, but no, it’s very much an adult, standing in front of the big glass tank, in the company of Todd of all people. Damian slows his steps to a halt, coming from one of the smaller side entrances that lead to the huge room, and simply observes from a safe distance.

“Uh huh, I see it. And I feel like now would be a good time to remind you that you have plenty of shark memorabilia and that we’ll simply be walking past the gift shop later.”

An inelegant snort, as the person side eyes him with amusement. “Would now be a good time to remind you that we both know that’s not happening?”

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose as he heaves a sigh, but Damian detects no true malice in it. He’s seen him truly irritated, angry - this is nothing of the sort. Fond exasperation, if anything.

“I know they’re nowhere near as dangerous as the media likes to make them out to be,” Jason starts, “but I’m still not sure how you can look at something decidedly dangerous, built for killing, and think it’s… cute.”

The look he receives in return is one Damian can’t quite identify and apparently neither can his brother.

“What?”

“Really? You can’t figure that out?” You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head to the side in thought. “Well, I think you should meet my boyfriend, then. Cause ya know, he’s pretty dangerous and rough around the edges, too, and I still think he’s cute.”

Jason mimics your stance as he responds. “Oh, do you now?”

You nod eagerly, grinning ear to ear. “Of course. When he gets up all groggy with a bed head cause he works late? Cute. When he pretends to get annoyed at his best friend cause he called him a silly nickname? Cute. When—“ That’s as far you get, interrupted by your own squeal, as Jason brings one arm around your shoulders to pull you in and smoosh your face against his chest, the other around your waist so you can’t escape. “Yeah, yeah, got it; I think I’ve heard enough about that guy now.”

Meanwhile you’ve managed to gain enough wiggle room to loop your arms around his neck and pull back to look up at him, lopsided, lovesick smile plastered all over your face. “Sorry, I can’t help it sometimes; I love him very much.” And it’s embarrassing, Damian thinks, how fast Jason breaks, all affectionate grin and soft eyes, just because someone is batting their lashes at him. “Well, he’d be a fool not to love you back.”

Damian turns away in disgust right as the couple is about to share a kiss and retreats down the hallway he came from. He’d never taken Todd for a particularly… honorable man, but courting someone he knows to be in a relationship with someone else? That’s a vile breach of trust that he won’t stand for. And, if he bothered to be honest with himself, not something he could actually see Todd engaging in. Despite his many flaws, he’s proven himself a loyal man often enough. But Damian can’t ignore what he heard with his own ears, that would be disregarding incriminating evidence, so he’ll need to have a talk with his father as soon as he gets home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re curled up on the couch book in hand when the front door all but flies open, your boyfriend hurrying inside and immediately locking the door behind him again. Before you even get a chance to greet him, he’s speeding through the rest of the apartment, making sure all the windows are shut tight and locked, too. You’ve put the book away, instead staring at him over the back of the couch with raised, quizzical brows when he comes back down the hallway into the living room, finally kicking off his boots at the entrance and hanging up his jacket. Then he beelines for the sofa, lifting up your legs to make room and plop himself down, settling your legs in his lap before he tips his head back and scrubs his hands over his face with a groan.

“Okay, Jay? I need you to talk to me; what kind of apocalypse should I be preparing for here?”

He doesn’t answer for a few long seconds, simply drops his hands from his face, his fingers coming to draw anxious patterns into your thighs instead. “Yeah, we’re totally busted. They know about you now.” And as miserable as he looks, as much as you know that spending time with his family is often draining and challenging for him, you can’t help the relieved laugh that bubbles up out of your throat, because with they way he’d just put your apartment on complete lockdown, you’d been expecting something - or someone - way worse.

Still chuckling, you grab one of his hands and squeeze. “Sweetheart, your family literally consists of detectives. In my opinion, we’re damn lucky to have even made it this long without them knowing.” He sighs, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “I’m not convinced Babs didn’t know before tonight. That woman knows everything.” While you’ve only heard stories and seen some pictures of the redhead, you have absolutely no trouble believing that. “So what happened, anyways?”

He mulls it over for a moment. “Well, I think it started when Damian tried to have me disowned.” You almost choke on nothing but air, a sound somewhere between a snort, a cough and a laugh leaving you. “Okay, you’ve completely lost me, babe.”

“Honestly, I was mostly just surprised I’m even still in the will.” A not so gentle nudge of your foot, an annoyed whine of his name because sure, you’d play along for now. Let him get the jokes and sass out of his system and pretend that you don’t see that the lazy grin he gives you is forced. That you don’t feel one his feet tapping the floor anxiously. That you don’t notice the way his eyes keep flicking towards the window and the door, like he’s expecting them to be kicked down any second now. “Apparently Damian saw us at the aquarium together and somehow assumed I’m your, uh, your mistress? And thought it dishonorable enough to bring up disowning me because of it.” Admittedly, picturing that elicits a real laugh, one you try to hide, but the next part still comes out as more of a wheeze than anything else. “And he just… what? Brought that up casually over dinner?” Jason shrugs. “Basically. Tried to talk my way outta it, but turns out some of the others saw us together, too, and things just spiraled from there.” It’s quiet for only a moment, then you, very much still intent on helping him distract himself from whatever it is that’s truly eating at him, but mixed with just a tad of entertained curiosity now, hit him with, “Well, yeah, makes sense; you have been getting sloppy.” His head shoots up from the back of the couch so fast you’re afraid his neck might snap and he actually looks offended. “How exactly is this my fault?”

“Come on, Jay. First couple of months of this relationship you wouldn’t even leave the house with me. Now? Grocery shopping, the movies, café dates, the aquarium - we’re barely apart, so it really was only a matter of time till they figured it out.” Rolling his eyes, he slides further down his seat and pouts, fully aware that technically you are correct - doesn’t mean he has to like it. “Great, helpful as ever, darling. And what do you, in your infinite wisdom, suggest we do about this now?” You regard him in silence for a moment: how he fiddles with your fingers, the set of his jaw, the furrow in his brows, the way every muscle in his body seems tense.

“Hey…” you murmur gently, interlacing your fingers. “Why do we have to do anything about this? What are you so worried about? I promise not to bite them when I meet them. Unless you want me to.” Careful prodding, still interlaced with humor - to let him know he can talk to you about it, but only if he wants to. He huffs out a quiet laugh, giving your intertwined hands a squeeze. “You can be such a gremlin sometimes, do you know that?” Bringing a hand to your chest in mock offense, you grin at him. “Oh, you do not get to call me a gremlin when you’re the one who consistently feeds me after midnight and gets me plenty wet.” The following eye brow waggle from your side is what breaks him; a full blown, joyful laugh as he shifts, picking you up and depositing you on his lap sideways, his arms encircling your middle, some of the previous tension visibly leaving his face. “See, that’s the exact kinda shit I don’t need you saying around them, cause I’ll never live that down.” Humming in thought, you get comfortable in your new position, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Sounds like a you problem, though.” It earns you a playful pinch to your sides that has you batting at his arms and hands to try and get him to stop; a fruitless effort of course, but he eventually settles his hands back on your hips. In turn, you place a hand on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat; most definitely too fast for simply fooling around with and teasing you. He’s not just worried, he’s scared, so you decide the time for games is over. “I’m being serious, though, what’s the matter? This isn’t anything you actually need to be concerned over, is it? It’s really not that big of a deal. So what if they know about me? So what if I eventually meet them now; not like it’s gonna change anything between us.” It’s small and if you didn’t know him as well you did, you probably would’ve missed it or written it off as irrelevant: the way he ever so slightly flinches at the last part.

Bingo.

But you don’t push, you know better. You let him get his thoughts in order, shifting restlessly beneath you while he does and let him answer in his own time.

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.”

A sigh, then you feel him rest his cheek on the top of your head.

“I dunno. Being around you is always so… easy. Comforting. Being with them isn’t. It’s complicated and it’s messy and overall just exhausting, most of the time. It’s not all bad, just…” He shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to get rid of an onslaught of memories; good or bad, you’re not entirely sure. “I guess I just don’t want them rubbing off on you, is all.” Pulling back to look at him, you find his eyes elsewhere, anywhere but you, desperate to avoid your scrutiny. “In other words, you’re worried your relationship with them, their opinions of you, are gonna affect mine, right?” He still can’t bring himself to look at you when he mumbles, “Basically…”

You shuffle about until you get your legs back under you, straddling him and cupping his face in your palms, running your thumbs along his cheek bones until he willingly brings his unnaturally green eyes back to yours and you feel like your heart might crack at the uncertainty you find there. “You’re forgetting that, aside from you, I’m probably the most stubborn person in this city; once I’ve made up my mind, it’s hard to change it. If anything, you should be worried about me not shutting the fuck up about how amazing and wonderful you are around them.” He scoffs and tries to turn his head out of your hold, but you refuse to let go and press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose instead, effectively stunning him into obedience. “Uh uh, you’re not going anywhere, I’m not finished yet. I’m on your side, okay? Even if it feels like nobody else is. I’m judging you based on my experiences with you, not theirs. And sure, not everything’s been great; you’re not perfect and neither am I, but that’s human. We live and we learn and we fuck up and then we try again. And I know you try, Jason. Every day, I know you’re trying. Trying to navigate a second life you never asked for. Trying to live in a body that never feels right, no matter how much time passes. Trying to mend the bonds with a family that more often than not still sees the ghost of a boy looking back at them, instead of the man you’ve become. Trying to make things better in this city, so that no one has to go through the same things you did. And nothing your family could say or do or show me is ever gonna change what I see with my own eyes.” He’s been silent this entire time, letting you speak, but you watched his shoulders slump, the tension that’s kept him wound up like a spring finally dissipating, and his own hands are now gently holding onto your wrists.

“And what do you see?”

It’s barely above a whisper, so quiet, you almost miss it despite how close you are.

You don’t have all the answers. You don’t actually know what meeting his family is gonna be like, how it might affect your relationship, but this? Oh, this you can answer just fine.

“A man who’s scarred and deeply flawed, but is still trying to do better, to be better. A man who wants to make up for the mistakes he did make, but sometimes nobody cares to listen. A man who, for all his efforts to appear ruthless, is still the most caring person I know. I see a man who, despite life never having been kind to him, retained a kind soul.”

And with the way he’s looking at you right now? Nothing but wonder and admiration and affection written all over his face? How could you not be sure about what you’re gonna say next? Sure that no one, absolutely no one, would ever be able to change your mind about him.

“I see the love of my life.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #batfamily #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #dc #dc comics #jason todd #red hood #tim x bernard

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cbeargyu · 2 days ago

Note

Hiii if reqs are still open can I ask for a coworker Doyoung finding out you're an onlyfans model....😭✋♥️

miss erotica

summary: you and doyoung are coworkers who maintain a strictly professional relationship… until he accidentally discovers your secret life as a lingerie model on onlyfans. tension builds, desires unravel, and when the truth finally comes out, you make him a filthy little offer he can't refuse.

pairing: coworker ! doyoung x coworker (of model) fem! reader

genre: smut, coworkers to lovers, slow burn tension, light dom!doyoung, lingerie kink, secret double life reveal.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, lingerie modeling, unprotected sex, rough sex, oral fixation (male receiving implied), cumshot on stomach/lace lingerie, cumshot on face (briefly mentioned), possessive behavior, light praise/degradation, slight overstimulation, photo taken for onlyfans post, doyoung jerking off alone at the end

wc: 3,6k

notes: omg, incredible request anon, i hope you enjoy it! thank you all for your requests, remember that they’re open, though it might take me some time to get to them due to my schedule🩷

working with doyoung had always been... easy. despite your desks being placed directly in front of each other, just a breath apart, the relationship stayed strictly professional. you weren't sure if it was because he was a workaholic who barely lifted his head from the screen, or if it was simply the nature of two people who lived parallel lives — polite, distant, untouched by anything messy or personal.

you knew the basics. he was single, lived alone, probably married to his job. you weren’t that different either — renting a cozy little apartment not far from the office, sharing your space with your two cats: milo, a silver tabby with a mischievous glint in his eye, and luna, a cream-colored ragdoll with lazy, half-lidded stares. you had exchanged bits of your life over small talk, shallow conversations at best. never more. never deeper.

what you didn’t know, what nobody knew, was that doyoung had a secret obsession — paying for content on onlyfans. not just any content. he was a loyal subscriber to a certain "miss erotica", a woman who never showed her face but showcased her body in ways that blurred the lines between art and temptation. he didn’t tell anyone. how could he? it was his private addiction, the one thing he allowed himself outside the endless deadlines and excel sheets.

then, one morning during a rare group breakfast at the office, the conversation drifted to pets. casual, harmless. you, smiling, pulled out your phone and showed a picture of your cats lounging by your living room window. milo, sprawled like a king, his silver fur shining under the sun; luna, tucked next to him, her cream coat like a spilled glass of milk against the dark wood floor.

"they're beautiful," someone cooed.

doyoung looked at the screen. and froze.

something pricked at the back of his mind. the silver tabby with the green collar... luna's cream fur... it looked familiar. almost too familiar.

he had seen them before.

but not here.

his heart stuttered, his throat going dry. he stayed silent, watching as you scrolled through more pictures, laughing, showing off your babies to the group. you didn't notice the way his eyes stayed glued to your screen, how his mind reeled.

because in one of miss erotica's most memorable posts — a shot of her ass in black lace panties, arching perfectly against a leather chair — there had been a cat in the background. a silver tabby. with the exact same green collar. and another fluff of cream lazing by a window.

doyoung’s stomach twisted.

no, it couldn't be.

he hadn't saved the picture. it had been months ago. it could be a coincidence. right?

he spent the rest of the day distracted, replaying the image in his mind, trying to grasp at details, trying to reason with himself. people had cats. cats could look similar. it didn’t have to be you.

and he almost let it go.

almost.

until summer came.

you traded your usual long-sleeved blouses for casual short-sleeve shirts, your skin kissed golden by the sun, the curve of your arm now exposed to his line of sight. that day, when you leaned across the desk to pass him a file, the hem of your sleeve rode up. doyoung’s eyes — traitorous, hungry — caught something.

a tattoo.

small, delicate.

a slender vine of wildflowers, curling around the back of your arm, the ink fine and dark against your skin.

he stared.

he knew that tattoo.

he had spent hours tracing it with his eyes on his screen, had memorized the way the petals twisted, the slight flaw in one of the leaves. miss erotica had that same tattoo. he had noticed it countless times while she modeled those sinful sets of lingerie — crimson silk, ivory lace, black leather.

doyoung’s heart slammed against his ribs. it wasn’t just a theory anymore. it was you.

he looked up slowly, meeting your eyes across the desk. you gave him a small, polite smile, unaware of the war raging inside him.

he swallowed thickly, his hands curling into fists under the desk.

fuck.

you were miss erotica.

and now, he couldn't unsee it. couldn't pretend he didn't know. every time you bent over slightly to pick up a file, every time you tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, every time you laughed low and sweet — it all layered itself with the filthy, burning images he'd paid to see at 2 a.m.

it was you.

doyoung hadn’t just stumbled across your profile. he had been looking for something — something specific, something that scratched a very particular itch deep inside him. lingerie. but not just anyone posing in cheap lace or overexposed shots. he liked the slow burn, the tease, the art of it. miss erotica was perfect. you had perfected it.

your content wasn’t explicit in the obvious sense. no faces, no messy, desperate angles. it was the suggestion of sin, the elegance of a body wrapped in silken temptation. intricate corsets, delicate garter belts, sheer stockings stretched over soft skin. sometimes, he thought the way you positioned your hands was even sexier than nudity — subtle, knowing. you wore lace like it was a second skin, posed in ways that made his mind work, made him imagine peeling each layer off inch by inch.

he had a thing for thigh-high stockings. for black lace that hugged curves and hinted at forbidden places. and miss erotica — you — had a way of making every single photo feel personal. like you were posing just for him.

he had spent too many nights gripping the sheets in frustration, whispering your name under his breath, not even realizing it. miss erotica. miss erotica. it was stupid how deep it went.

and now...

you were sitting across from him at your shared desks, tapping away on your keyboard, completely unaware that the woman who had made him lose sleep, made him ache with need, was breathing the same office air as him.

it felt wrong.

it felt so good.

he was drowning in it.

the realization clung to him like static electricity. he watched the way your fingers danced across the keys, slender and sure, the same fingers he had imagined curled in the waistband of delicate panties. he watched the way you tilted your head slightly when you read something intently, exposing the soft line of your throat, the same throat he had dreamed of marking.

he couldn't focus.

he couldn’t fucking breathe.

you had no idea.

the days after the realization were torture.

doyoung tried to act normal — professional, polite, like he hadn't spent half the night with your photos burned into his eyelids. but it was impossible. now he noticed everything. the slight sway of your hips when you walked past his desk. the way your fingers sometimes absentmindedly played with the hem of your blouse. the shape of your mouth when you sipped your coffee. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fucking fair.

he needed a release. he needed you.

so one evening, as you both packed up your things, the office mostly deserted except for a few lingering coworkers, he cleared his throat and said casually, "hey, y/n... you doing anything tonight?"

you looked up, a little surprised — it was rare for doyoung to initiate anything that wasn’t strictly about work. "not really," you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "why?"

he shrugged, forcing nonchalance. "thought maybe we could grab a drink. just... you know, decompress a bit. long week."

you smiled — a soft, genuine smile he didn’t usually get to see — and nodded. "yeah, sure. that sounds nice."

it was a simple moment.

ordinary.

but his pulse hammered against his ribs like he had just won something forbidden.

the bar he picked wasn’t far from the office. dimly lit, cozy, tucked away enough that no one from work would accidentally stumble in. he watched you under the low lights, the way you peeled off your jacket, revealing more of your arms — more of that tattoo — and he felt his mouth go dry.

you ordered something sweet. he ordered something strong.

conversation started off light. movies, weekend plans, the weather.

but as the drinks flowed, the distance between you seemed to shrink. your laughter got a little looser. your glances lingered a little longer. he leaned in, elbows brushing yours on the tiny table, and he could smell the soft, clean scent of your shampoo. he could imagine burying his face in it, breathing you in as he pressed your body against his.

"so," he said after a pause, voice a little rougher now, "you live alone, right?"

you nodded, swirling the ice in your glass. "yeah. just me and my two little troublemakers."

"the cats," he said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"mhm." you tilted your head, curious. "you remembered?"

he chuckled lowly. "hard to forget."

especially when those cats had haunted his fucking dreams alongside your lace-clad body.

you leaned in a little closer without realizing it, your knee brushing his under the table.

doyoung’s hand twitched, desperate to touch, desperate to confirm that you were real, that you were here, that he wasn’t losing his goddamn mind.

"you ever feel like people don’t really know you?" you said suddenly, voice soft, almost vulnerable. "like... you have this whole side of you no one even sees?"

you didn’t know what you were doing to him.

or maybe you did.

he set his glass down, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"i think," he said slowly, voice dropping, "some sides are meant for only a few lucky ones to see."

the air between you crackled, thick and heavy.

you swallowed hard, heart beating too fast.

you hadn’t realized how close you had leaned in. how close he was.

or maybe you had.

the space between you buzzed like an invisible wire pulled too tight. every time you shifted, his eyes flickered down, tracing the subtle lines of your body. you were painfully aware of it — of him — of the way his fingers curled against the edge of his glass, the way his jaw tensed whenever your knees brushed under the table.

you sipped your drink slowly, tongue darting out to catch a drop at the corner of your mouth. his gaze followed the movement like a man starved. you could practically feel the heat rolling off his body in thick, stifling waves.

the conversation faltered. it didn’t need words anymore. everything was felt.

"y/n," he said finally, voice low, rough around the edges.

you looked up, heart skipping.

there was something dangerous in his eyes. something that told you he wasn’t going to play pretend anymore.

"those cats of yours," he started, almost casually. "i swear i’ve seen them somewhere else before."

you smiled, slow, almost coy. "yeah?"

he leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek. you could smell the bourbon on him, feel the warmth of it seeping into your skin.

"yeah," he murmured. "in a... very specific place."

a pause. a deliberate, loaded silence.

you set your glass down carefully, the ice clinking sharp in the quiet. "where, doyoung?" you asked, voice sweet, teasing. but your heart was hammering against your ribs, adrenaline and arousal twining together into something electric.

he watched you, pupils blown wide, fingers flexing like he was holding himself back from reaching across the table and dragging you into him.

"onlyfans," he said finally. barely a whisper. a confession.

the word hung between you, scandalous and heavy.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t look away.

instead, you tilted your head, a slow, sinful smile curling your lips.

"miss erotica," he said, the name coming out like a prayer he had whispered a hundred times in the dark.

you leaned in, so close your knees were fully pressed together now under the table.

your voice dropped to a purr.

"so," you breathed, "you’re a fan of lingerie, huh?"

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, y/n... more than a fan."

the confession hung in the air like smoke, sweet and thick.

you let the moment stretch, savoring the way his body tensed, the way he shifted like he was seconds away from snapping.

"lace?" you murmured. "stockings? garters?"

he nodded, unable to look away from you, like you were the center of his whole fucking universe.

"all of it," he said, voice almost breaking. "i... i can’t get enough."

you licked your lips slowly, leaning back just a little to give him a view of the curve of your body under your blouse. teasing. tempting.

his fingers twitched like he was holding onto the last shred of his self-control.

"poor thing," you whispered. "must be hard, wanting something so bad and not being able to touch it."

his hands fisted in his lap, knuckles white.

"y/n," he warned, voice wrecked, pleading.

you smiled, wicked and soft all at once.

you leaned closer, so your mouth was right by his ear, your breath warm against his skin.

"what if," you whispered, so quietly it was almost obscene, "i modeled for you?"

he sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body shuddering like he’d been struck.

you pulled back just enough to see his face — the desperation there, the hunger, the need.

"real life," you said, your fingers ghosting along the hem of your skirt under the table, just enough for him to catch the motion. "no screens. no distance."

he was trembling. you were trembling.

the world outside the little cocoon of the bar didn’t exist anymore.

there was only this — the heavy beat of your hearts, the unbearable pull between you, the promise of something dirty and sweet hanging in the air.

"you’d model for me," he said, disbelieving, wrecked.

"if you’re a good boy," you teased, wicked and tender all at once.

he let out a low, broken noise, half-growl, half-whimper, and you knew — you knew — that tonight was going to change everything.

you barely made it through the door before he was on you.

doyoung kicked the door shut behind him, hands everywhere, breath hot against your skin as he pressed you against the wall.

"fuck," he muttered against your neck, voice low and trembling with restraint. "you drive me insane."

you laughed softly, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

"patience," you whispered. "you still want me to model for you, don't you?"

he pulled back, eyes dark and wild, chest heaving.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, yeah. show me, baby. show me everything."

you slipped out from under him, sauntering toward your bedroom with a slow sway of your hips, feeling his gaze burning into you.

you could hear him curse under his breath, could hear the faint clink of his belt as he adjusted himself, trying to keep it together.

you left the door slightly ajar, just enough for him to peek in as you changed.

slowly, languidly, you stripped down, sliding the soft fabric of your blouse over your head, shimmying your skirt down your thighs.

you chose one of your best sets — a delicate black lace bralette and matching thong, the garter belt hugging your hips, sheer thigh-high stockings clipping into place with a soft click.

you posed in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusting the straps, making sure everything sat just right, teasing yourself as much as you were teasing him.

"come in," you called sweetly.

the door creaked open and there he was, standing there, jaw clenched, eyes practically black.

his hands fisted at his sides like he was seconds from losing every ounce of control.

you turned slowly, letting him take you in — the curve of your ass in the sheer lace, the tight lines of the garter straps, the soft swell of your breasts barely contained by the delicate fabric.

"holy fuck," he breathed, voice wrecked. "you're gonna kill me."

you sauntered up to him, slow and deliberate, your fingers trailing up his chest, feeling the tremor beneath your touch.

"sit," you commanded, voice like velvet.

he obeyed without hesitation, sinking onto the edge of your bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets.

you climbed onto his lap, straddling one strong thigh, feeling the hard muscle flex beneath you.

your soaked panties pressed against him as you started to rock your hips, slow, grinding motions that sent sparks shooting up your spine.

his hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, guiding your movements as you rode his thigh like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

"fuck, look at you," he groaned, tilting his head back, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you, dark and hungry. "so fucking pretty, so fucking wet."

you rolled your hips against his thigh, your soaked panties dragging delicious friction along the hard muscle beneath you.

doyoung watched you with a look that was pure hunger, his hands locked on your waist, controlling your pace, forcing you to grind harder, deeper.

"fuck, baby," he rasped, his voice a wreck of desire. "you’re fucking yourself on my thigh like a desperate little thing."

you whimpered, grinding harder, feeling the rough fabric of his pants rubbing right against your clit through the thin lace.

"please," you gasped, not even sure what you were begging for anymore — more, faster, him.

he growled low in his throat, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you onto the bed in one smooth, desperate motion.

"can't wait anymore," he muttered, tugging his shirt over his head, undoing his belt with trembling fingers. "need you. now."

you spread your legs eagerly, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes as he shed the rest of his clothes, his cock thick and leaking, curving up toward his stomach.

he crawled over you, one hand sliding up your thigh, tracing the garter strap, hooking his fingers under it and snapping it playfully against your skin, making you gasp.

"keep it on," he ordered, voice dark and low. "i wanna fuck you in this."

you nodded frantically, hips canting up toward him, desperate for any kind of friction.

he lined himself up and pushed in slowly, groaning deep in his chest as he filled you inch by agonizing inch.

"so tight," he breathed, forehead pressed against yours. "so fucking good."

you clung to him, nails digging into his back, moaning brokenly as he started to move — slow at first, grinding deep inside you, savoring every second.

the lace scraped lightly against his skin, the garters tugging with every thrust, the whole thing messy and desperate and perfect.

he fucked you like he couldn't get close enough, couldn't get deep enough, like he wanted to crawl inside your skin and live there.

then he slowed, grinding deep instead of thrusting, fucking you slow and filthy, making you feel every inch of him.

he pulled back just enough to look down at you, his cock still buried deep inside, his hands rough on your hips.

you cried out, legs trembling, the pressure building fast and brutal.

"wanna see you cum," he growled, fucking you harder, faster, making the bed creak beneath you. "wanna feel you."

your orgasm hit like a freight train, ripping through you with a force that left you gasping, clinging to him as you shattered apart.

his voice was low, almost a growl against your ear: "where do you want it, baby? tell me."

you whimpered, meeting his eyes, feeling the heat of your own desperation mirrored in his gaze.

"on my face and... my lingerie," you whispered, voice shaking with need. "i want you to ruin it."

his eyes darkened impossibly further, his thrusts turning erratic, brutal.

"fuck. fuck, you’re gonna kill me," he muttered, pulling out at the last second.

he pulled out quickly, fisting his cock with a few rough strokes, and then he was painting your face with hot, sticky ropes of cum, groaning your name like a prayer.

you moaned softly, licking a drop from your lip, watching him through hooded eyes.

but he wasn't done yet.

he stroked himself back to hardness almost immediately, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach.

you arched your back for him, showing off the perfect view — the lace barely covering your ass, the garters framing your curves beautifully.

he jerked himself hard and fast, the obscene sounds of slick skin filling the room, until he came again, thick and messy across your lower back and ass, the cum soaking into the delicate lace.

you stayed like that for a moment, panting, letting it drip down your skin.

you watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, heart hammering, feeling every hot splash land on you, branding you, claiming you exactly the way you asked for.

he collapsed onto the couch beside you, chest heaving, watching you with a dazed, satisfied grin.

you lay there for a moment, catching your breath, feeling the slick mess cooling on your skin, the ruined lace clinging to you obscenely.

and then, with a wicked little smile, you reached for your phone. you angled it perfectly — the sticky, creamy mess glistening across your stomach, the black lace sheer against your flushed skin.

click.

you uploaded it to your onlyfans with a simple, filthy caption:

"he made me a mess tonight."

hours later, doyoung sat on his own bed, phone in hand, heart pounding.

he opened your page and there it was — your body, still trembling, still glistening with the evidence of his obsession.

his cock twitched violently, already leaking, already aching.

he groaned low in his throat, unable to stop himself from palming his cock roughly, needing relief, needing you all over again.

he came in seconds, harsh and hot across his stomach, your name a broken whisper on his lips.

and he knew.

he was never going to survive you.

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ggukivrse · 16 hours ago

Text

henna kisses | jjk

summary. in which you're stuck waiting for your henna to dry, and jungkook takes full advantage to pepper you with kisses

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

word count: 0.6k

genre/warnings: established relationship au, FLUFF, they’re just very much in love it’s sick

notes: first of all, TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS OMG :0 i literally started this acc 3 weeks ago so this is wild to me, but genuinely, thank you so so much ☹️ i wrote this drabble as a baby army so it’s very self indulgent loll, but some of you wanted to read it when i mentioned it here, so here it is :> likes, comments, reblogs, asks & feedback are very appreciated! enjoy reading <33

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

Your hands are frozen in mid-air, fingers spread, palms facing the ceiling like you're offering up something delicate to the universe. The henna glistens wetly against your skin, intricate patterns looping and curling over your fingers and wrists.

You can't move. You can't touch anything. You can't even scratch the itch teasing the inside of your elbow. And Jungkook knows it.

He's sitting cross-legged in front of you, chin resting on one hand. He looks far too pleased with himself, far too comfortable.

"You know," you say, careful not to shift too much, "this is your fault."

"My fault?" he echoes, all fake innocence, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You're the one who wanted henna."

"You're the one who did the henna," you argue, looking down at the designs blooming over your skin. Tiny flowers, delicate vines, little stars tucked into the spaces between your knuckles. "And you made it so pretty. I didn't know you could even draw like this."

He beams, the kind of smile that makes your stomach flip even though you're firmly planted on the couch. "I had good inspiration."

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are heating up. You can't even hide it; your hands are too occupied to pull a pillow over your face or smack him playfully like you usually would.

And Jungkook knows. He scoots closer, the couch cushions dipping under his weight. You narrow your eyes at him.

"Kook," you warn. "Don't you dare."

He grins, devilish, and before you can do anything, he's leaning in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, feather-light. You squeak, trying to recoil, but you can't do much without ruining the henna.

"You're defenseless," he singsongs, poking at your cheek with the gentlest tap of his finger. You jerk your head away instinctively and he laughs, low and breathy, the sound vibrating right into your chest.

"I hate you," you mutter, glaring.

"You love me," he corrects, like it's the simplest truth in the world.

And he doesn't give you a chance to argue, swooping in to press a kiss to your forehead. Another to your temple. One to the tip of your nose. He's quick about it, peppering kisses wherever he can reach, giggling when you try to dodge.

"Jungkook," you whine, laughing despite yourself. "You're going to make me mess it up!"

"I'm helping," he insists, kissing the corner of your mouth, so soft and sweet it makes your heart ache a little. "Distractions make time go faster."

You groan, slumping against the couch, careful to keep your hands up. "You're impossible."

"You picked me," he reminds you smugly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. His fingertips are warm and careful, like he knows you can't retaliate and is being extra gentle to compensate. "You and your pretty hands."

Your voice is small when you say it, but it slips out anyway. "You really did a good job."

Jungkook's smile softens. He leans back just enough to look at your hands, admiration flickering across his face like he's proud of the art and proud of you just for trusting him with it.

"You look beautiful," he says simply, no teasing now, just honest, overwhelming affection. "Hands and all."

You can't hug him. You can't kiss him back. All you can do is sit there, heart pounding out a rhythm that's almost as intricate as the designs he drew on you, and wait for the henna — and maybe your own overwhelming feelings — to dry.

taglist | click here to join: @thegreatdepressionme @golden-loona @kissyfacekoo @cookysstuff @whoa-jo @minghaosimp @dark-enigma1806 @yooniepot @levisnumber1 @blueofocean @oumy221 @uarmygguk @libra04 @parkinglot-nights @jungkook1love @eyesforjungkook @ronyiboniyy @sebastianlover @nikkinikj @kenzierj11 @bugbxte @operation-619 @gguklovrr @annyeongbitch7 @sheshya @mswannadiesworld @yunhoswrldddd @myenergyandstuff @stardustbaee

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alotofpockets · 16 hours ago

Text

No looking back | Steph Catley x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Nightmares again?"

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.1k

-----

One miss-step in the first leg of the semi-finals. One goal conceded because of it. One defensive mistake that haunted Steph's dreams that night.

When you woke up you immediately noticed that something was off. Steph wasn't her usual cuddly and cheery self. She was awake already and staring at the ceiling with a serious look on her face.

You turn and cuddle into her side “What's going on, darling?” You ask after you kiss her cheek. “Just a nightmare.” Steph shrugged. “Wanna talk about it?” You tried, even though you knew the answer. “Not right now.” You press a kiss to her cheek again. “That's okay. I'm here to listen when you change your mind.” Steph nods, “I know, thank you. I'm gonna go for a walk with Calvin, to clear my mind.”

When she stood up to go out with Calvin right away, you knew she needed some space. You stayed in bed a little longer to wake up properly, and then made your way to the kitchen to make some breakfast for everyone.

Calvin's bowl was already set up, and you were just plating your and Steph’s breakfast when they got back. Steph took off Calvin's collar, and he quickly ran to you. “Oh good morning, buddy, I missed you too.” You say giving him a big cuddle. “Come on bud, I’ve got your breakfast.”

The moment you turned back around, Steph wrapped her arms around you tightly. You quickly hug her back, and hold her tight. Moments like this you knew she needed you to hold her until she let go, so you held close until she pulled back. “Thank you for breakfast.” She said after pecking your lips.

In the following days the same pattern repeated. Steph having nightmares, not wanting to talk about it, taking Calvin out to clear her mind, and you have breakfast ready for when she comes back. When Steph would be ready to talk about her nightmares she would come to you, all you could do in the meantime was be there for her.

The morning Steph would leave for Lyon, you woke up to Steph once again already being awake and staring at the ceiling. “Nightmares again?” Your voice is still groggy from just waking up, but you’re genuinely getting worried about her now with the amount of nightmares she has had the past week.

“Yeah, I keep replaying the mistake I made in the first leg.” You sat up a little to be able to look at Steph while she spoke. “Then I keep seeing all kinds of nightmare situations where I mess up again, and cost us the Champions League. Like a different way I let the team down each time. What if I will be the reason that we lose? I would never forgive myself if a mistake from me in both legs costs us a spot in the final.”

You reach out for her hand, “Darling, you are an amazing defender. An amazing footballer. Everybody makes mistakes, and what happened in the first leg wasn’t even really a mistake. You only misstepped because you were giving everything in you to try and defend that striker.”

Steph shakes her head, “My everything wasn’t good enough.” You squeeze her hand, “You might not have been able to stop her, but that doesn’t mean that your everything wasn’t good enough. Yes they scored, but you were not the only factor that led up to that goal. Plus you had plenty of blocks after that goal, you fought back until the very last second, and you should be nothing but proud of your performance.” You knew that just your words weren’t going to be enough to convince her, but you could try, right?

“You’ll get back on the pitch Sunday, and you can give it your all again. Take what you learned from the first leg with you, but you’ll keep your focus on the match at hand. No matter the results, I am so proud of you.” Steph stayed silent for a moment while she played with your hand.

“Do you think we can turn it around?” She asks after a while. “Yeah, I do. With the mentality you and the team have, I know you will fight for it until the very end.” That seemed to be enough for Steph as she turned to you and pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, for everything.” You hug her back and let your head rest on her chest, “Always.”

You flew out to Lyon a day later to watch the game live at Groupama Stadium. Arsenal fans had come out in big numbers. The atmosphere from the moment you got there had been amazing. You were sitting with some of the other family members from the girls, chatting while you watched them warm up.

Steph had noticed you in the crowd and sent you a little wave. She seemed well rested, and strong. She had texted you after her training session that she was feeling a lot better, and that having talked about her nightmares had helped a lot. You were hoping that she would be able to fully leave the “mistake” in the last game and focus on this one.

You watched Arsenal come back from a deficit, the whole team was playing strong. Steph played so well. She made some incredible blocks, and was able to play her way out of tricky situations. You were so incredibly proud watching her performance on this top level.

When the final whistle blew your section went wild. Tears sprung to your eyes as you watched the girls run onto the pitch, celebrating the win. Meanwhile you were hugging all the family members of the girls around you, they had done it, and you were all so immensely proud of them.

After the initial celebrations on the pitch the girls were all walking around. That’s when Steph looked for you again. Her face lit up when she saw you again, wearing her jersey proudly. She pointed and waved at you, and you both knew exactly what it meant.

Down on the pitch you saw Alessia walk up to Steph to pull her along to the stands. You had been sitting next to Alessia’s parents, so Alessia pulled Steph along to go up to you.

The moment she reached you she fell into your arms. “You did it, darling. I am so proud of you.” She smiled into your chest. “No looking back, only this moment.” You lean back to be able to see her face. “Only this moment.” You repeated.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also support me by leaving a tip 💗

#pockets 5k celebration #steph catley #steph catley x reader #steph catley imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal women x reader #awfc x reader #awfc #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #matildas x reader #auswnt x reader #auswnt #matildas

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halfway-happyyy · 3 days ago

Note

frank looking out for s/o who works at a diner, even though frank can't blame how pretty she looks in that cute waitress outfit and lace aprin but whenever a guy tries to be a creep around her, he saves her but not cause a scene cuz he doesn't want s/o to lose her job but as soon as that guy gets out of that diner, frank as his own way to tarch this guy a lesson.

I kind of love the idea of this, so allow me to run with it a bit.

warnings: mentions of blood, frank tunes a guy UP

frank had stumbled upon the diner by total fluke one morning. the rain that had begun as a drizzle when he first left his apartment had morphed into a full-on downpour, and the mere thought of a fresh cup of hot coffee was too enticing to pass up. so, soaked to the bone and in dire need of a caffeine boost, he stepped into the unassuming hideout.

he hadn't expected the place to be as soothing as it was, but for some inexplicable reason, he felt entirely at home tucked away in the cracked leather booth in the far corner. the mouth-watering scent of frying butter and freshly ground coffee beans permeated the entire establishment and helped to cement the notion that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

small black and white tiles decorated the floor, and a myriad of vinyl records from the 50s and 60s took up space up on the wood-paneled walls. it reminded him of the spot in jersey that his old man used to take him to after his baseball games; the unexpected familiarity of it all causing a lump of emotion to swell in the hollow of his throat.

"goodness, you look cold..." her voice startled him from his reverie as she reached for his cup. "this'll do wonders for you, fresh from about five minutes ago."

frank swallowed hard and nodded his head. "thank you, ma'am."

she turned to leave, but hesitated. "I can take your coat for you, if you want... sling it over a vent in the back?"

frank was surprised at how much her offer touched him. eventually, he shook his head.

"ah, i'll be alright. thank you, though."

she seemed unconvinced but offered him a small smile regardless.

"alright, well you're welcome to stay as long as you need. i'll be sure to come around again before your cup runs empty."

"thank you, ma'am."

while he tried in vain to focus on the novel he was halfway through reading, he couldn't help but be a bit enamored with her. she moved around the place with a grace that only came from doing the same job for a long time; greeting everyone with a genuine zeal. while it was out of the realm of normality for him entirely, he could not help but be charmed by her. and true to her word, she never once let his cup run low.

when she brought him the bill, she subtly set a small to-go box beside it.

"I couldn't help noticing that you didn't order anything to eat, and in the interest of wanting to keep my customers happy, and returning, I insist that you take a slice of honey crisp apple pie home with you."

at a loss for what to say, frank simply nodded. "yes ma'am. thank you."

"I do hope to see you again, soon."

he couldn't think of a single thing that might hinder him from returning, so he simply cleared his throat and said, "I'll be back."

He made a habit out of spending most mornings in his booth. He could blame it on being annoyingly routine-driven, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. There was something about her that kept him coming back. He'd spent most of his life (after maria and the kids) denying himself of any semblance of goodness, so he figured he would let himself off the hook a bit with her.

"good morning, frank."

that damn voice - like warm honey.

"mornin', ma'am."

her frown was unmistakable as she reached for his mug.

"you've been coming here for months, frank, we must be on a first-name basis now, don't you think?"

he wasn't exactly sure how to explain to her that it was simply a respect thing. he had seen so many customers refer to her with disrespectful pet names that the idea of being lumped into the same category as them made his skin crawl.

he eventually murmured her name, liking the way it rolled off his tongue and smiled softly. "you look really nice today, by the way."

her cheeks turned a rosy hue, which made his smile even wider, and did a once-over of the lace apron that covered the ankle-length dress she wore underneath. "I wear the same thing every day, frank."

He nodded. "You look nice every day."

with a breathless sigh, she shook her head and murmured - "you silver-tongued devil, you."

"hey sweet cheeks!" a patron smacked the table twice and beckoned her toward him. "need a little help over here."

she glanced at frank with wide eyes and then left to tend to the men a couple tables over.

frank had been gripping the coffee mug so tightly, his knuckles grew white.

"tell me, sweetie, is this a standard diner uniform you got on, or do they make you wear a sexier one on account of that sweet, sweet ass you got behind ya?"

the men with him erupted in a cacophony of obnoxious laughter, and it was all he could do, not to wander over there and knock their blocks off on the spot.

she kept it professional and polite the entire time, and when she went back to refill frank's cup, she noticed the expression on his face immediately.

"it's okay," she urged. "I get it all of the time."

frank's lips twisted into a scowl. "it's not even remotely okay. it's disgusting."

"yeah, well, unfortunately for us women, they don't really make men like you anymore, frank." she glanced at the watch on the underside of her wrist and sighed. "I'm done in about an hour anyway - please don't make a scene."

frank took a deep breath and tried to savor the rich taste of the coffee on his tongue. tried to focus on anything other than ringing all of those - pathetic excuses for men's - bells. "I won't, of course." silence settled between them before he quirked a brow in mild amusment and mumbled, "I look like the kinda guy who would make a scene?"

"honestly, yes." she laughed.

he wasn't sure where the need to protect her had come from. he hardly knew her. but it was there, and he was growing tired of ignoring it.

he didn't offer to walk her to her subway stop this time, instead telling her that he wanted to stay a little longer to finish his book. she seemed dubious, but she didn't question him about it, only asking him if she would see him tomorrow morning.

he nodded once before confirming that he would be there.

"bye, frank."

he lifted a hand in a wave. "take care of yourself, kid."

it slipped out before he could catch it. he wasn't sure of her exact age, but he figured she was younger than him by a good stretch. in any regard - she didn't seem to mind the nickname at all. he might have even spotted the ghost of a smile on her face as she turned to leave.

frank waited patiently for the men to finish their meals, and when they rose to leave after paying their bills, he did too. there were three of them; all of which - he noted with satisfaction - could be overpowered all too easily. it took the one who was beaking off at her a good ten minutes to realize they were being followed, and he turned to frank, chest puffed and ready to rumble.

"there a reason you're following us?"

frank had backed them into a dead-end alley.

he hooked a thumb over his shoulder and spoke in a low, measured way.

"you owe that lady back there an apology for the way you spoke to her."

the men exploded in a fit of laughter that itched just beneath the surface of his skin, and caused his fists to flex at his sides.

"I don't owe that piece of ass a goddamn thing, asshole."

frank was on him in seconds, wailing on every part of the man's body he could get his fists on. he had expected the friends to join in - frank would have taken them as well, but when he glanced back, they were gone.

the roar that erupted from him was inherently primal - unfamiliar even to his own ears, and he knew then that he was reaching a precipice, of which there could be no return once crossed.

"you had enough yet? huh? you done?"

the man could barely form words - blood gushed from a myriad of cuts in his face, and he was missing a couple of teeth. frank ripped himself away from the sack of flesh in front of him, before wiping away the sweat from his brow.

"learn some fucking manners, man. try thinking twice before you ever speak to a girl like that again." he spit on the man for good measure and stalked off.

true to his word, he was back in his booth the very next morning.

"rough night?" she simpered, as she leaned over to fill his cup.

frank flexed his impossibly sore knuckles and shrugged. "I've had worse."

she slipped into the seat before him, and reached over to run a cool fingertip over the swollen curves of his knuckles. he fought the urge to shiver into the pleasant sensation.

"are you alright, frank?"

he cleared his throat. "yeah, I'm fine."

she gave him a last, longing gaze before getting up to continue her rounds. he caught her just as she was about to head to next table.

now or never, frankie-boy.

"will you have dinner with me?"

she seemed surprised, but in the place of that surprise, a wry smile tugged at the edges of her lips.

"are you asking me on a date, Mr. Castle?"

frank nodded. "yes ma'am, I am."

"well alright then," she beamed, and frank felt the warmth from her smile like a ray of sunshine on his face. "I'd love to grab dinner with you."

#okay maybe i got a wee bit carried away !!#tw: blood #tw: violence #frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #drabble #asks

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lonely-ey3s · 2 days ago

Text

Heartlines | Chapter Three

pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader

chapter summary : After you take lunch to his work, Harry asks you to be his date to his work masquerade party. However, he takes you shopping for the event beforehand, showing you how important you are and how serious he is about being with you.

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn, angst, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), switched POV's, drinking, thoughts of smut (18+ MDNI), flirting, if I missed anything, lmk!!

word count: 10.6k

a/n: i am super proud of this chapter. i hope you all enjoy it as much as i loved writing it. something about watching episode 2 just made me want to write anything but what i was feeling and it just poured into this chapter for harry and the reader.

also just a reminder! chapters will be every other sunday alternating ride or die !! enjoy 💗

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

You were called into the office early the next morning, another hiccup.

After everything calmed down and everyone from the wedding party had left for the airport or checked out, you had the rest of the day to yourself.

After talking with Lila last night, and how well the conversation went with Harry, you wanted to return the favor to him.

You ran to a classic sandwich shop down the street from the hotel, then took a cab to the address Lila provided you for where Harry worked.

You got out of the taxi, and a tall building stood in front of you.

You'd lived in New York most of your life and the skyscrapers in the city weren't anything new, but they still overwhelmed you when you got this close.

You looked up and estimated it had over 100 floors, easily.

You took a deep breath as a wave of anxiety washed over you. Your heart started to pound — you felt like you were going to be sick. Something inside of you was trying to pull you back and away– put the walls back up.

You shook your head and swallowed it all down, you weren't going to let it control you anymore. Not when you had a chance at being happy.

With that you put one foot in front of the other and made your way inside.

Lila told you to go to the elevators and go to the 64th floor, so that’s what you did.

The bellboy smiled at you as you entered. “I’ve not seen you here before…” he said, looking down at the bag you were holding. “Bringing someone lunch?”

You nodded and looked down at the bag, smiling softly.

“64th floor is all those investors… your friend rich?” he asked, trying to make small talk.

You chuckled as you tilted your head upward, watching the numbers slowly rise. “He does well for himself…”

He scoffed and turned to look at the doors, back to assuming his position, “That’s just a nice way of saying he’s loaded,” he teased.

You shrugged, letting out a small chuckle, then looked at the doors as you approached the 64th floor. “I guess it is...”

The bell dinged, and the doors opened.

You looked over at him and nodded politely, “Thank you.” Then you stepped out and began walking down the hallway toward the large glass doors with the company logo on it.

The moment you stepped inside, the air shifted.

It was colder than you expected — not in temperature, but in tone. Sleek, polished, professional. The kind of place where every inch had been carefully curated to project power without ever needing to say it aloud.

You swallowed at the scale; the complete change of environment from where you worked was overwhelming.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one wall, letting in the hard, clear light of the city. Every desk gleamed like it had been buffed ten minutes ago. Dark wood, glass, leather chairs—everything was uniform, clean cut.

The soft hum of voices and muted clicks of keyboards filled the air — no shouting, no chaos — just the efficient, almost clinical buzz of money moving from one place to another.

Men and women in sharp suits moved through the space with purpose, their watches catching the light, their gazes focused and far too busy to notice you lingering near the front.

Behind a massive desk, a receptionist with a headset gave you a tight, polite smile. Her nails tapped against the keyboard like she was marking time until the next meeting.

You noticed the voice coming from the other side of the desk and immediately felt relieved at the first sign of someone interacting with you instead of ignoring you. "Delivery?"

You came over and shook your head shyly, “I’m uh, not delivering, I'm actually here to have lunch with a uhm, someone who works here? Harry Castillo?” you looked at her with an eyebrow raised, hoping you were in the right place.

She smiled brightly, “Oh, Mr. Castillo! Let me page his assistant!” She touched a button on the desk phone.

“No!” you shouted, making her jump. “Sorry, no… I uh, I’m surprising him,” you chuckled nervously.

“Oh!” she softly giggled, nodding. “Let me take you to where his office is. You can wait for him in there,” she smiled softly and stood to walk around the reception desk, “He’s just in a meeting for maybe another 15 minutes or so…”

You nodded and smiled politely as you trailed closely behind her.

She started to walk through the office, smiling and nodding at a few people here and there. You looked around and got a sense of what Harry might do for work, picking up on small details.

You heard your name being called from across the office floor and turned to follow where the call was coming from.

Ben smiled and waved to you. “What the heck are you doing here?” he said as he started to come over to you.

You smiled and chuckled lightly, holding up the bag you had in your hand, “I was going to surprise Harry with lunch…” You nodded towards the receptionist, who stopped walking as you did.

Ben waved her off, “I’ll take her the rest of the way, Lucy, thank you for helping,” he smiled.

She nodded and walked back to her desk, leaving you and Ben alone.

“So... you and Harry?” he grinned and offered his arm for you to hold while you two continued to walk.

You chuckled as you took it, “Nothin’ is… we uhm, we aren’t exclusive.” You shyly scrambled over your response.

Ben huffed out a small chuckle, “Not exclusive? He’s head over heels for you! And I think, based on how Lila came home last night, gossiping about your little phone call– you are feeling the same way,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes and nudged him playfully.

There was a small pause before you spoke again, “I’m not sure how to feel. We haven’t gone out on an official date yet. Just flirting, you know... getting to know each other…” You glanced up at him.

“Ah, I see…” he nodded, softly tutting. He then opened a door that had Harry’s name on a placard by it. “Can I offer some advice then?”

You stepped in and let go of his arm. “Advice for me or him?” you joked.

He chuckled at your jab but then sighed softly and smiled somewhat sadly, “I’ve known Harry for a long time. He’s been hurt just as much as you have.” He looked down for a moment and then back up at you. “He’s someone who puts everything into someone…” he nodded towards his desk, “If you can… find a way to reciprocate it? Give each other a chance. Let him take care of you, but also... take care of him…”

Your eyes scanned over his desk. Of all the other desks you saw, Harry's had a warmth to it. There were framed photos and even a small Lego Batman figure you assumed was from one of his nephews or nieces. A flashback from the wedding make you chuckle as you thought about the joke you two had walking down the aisle.

You then looked back at Ben, understanding what he meant. “I’ll do my best,” you smiled softly.

He nodded and gently patted the door frame. “I know you will,”

You both heard his name being called from another part of the office. He cleared his throat and sighed. “I’m being summoned,” he said, chuckling.

You nodded and came over, gently kissing his cheek, “It’s good to see you. I’ll come say goodbye before I leave.”

He nodded and returned the gentle kiss on your cheek, “You better…”

You chuckled softly and nodded, then walked back to sit in a chair that sat in front of Harry’s desk before he closed the door and left.

Harry’s POV

He had been in this meeting for almost an hour now, and Kent’s monotone voice was almost lulling him to sleep.

Slide 28 of 35.

‘God help us all.’ he thought as he looked at his watch to see the time, eager to get on with his day.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting back to the slideshow in front of him and the rest of the executives as they attentively watched.

Another chart. Another bullet point. Another pointless deep dive into data he’d already skimmed three days ago, processed, and moved on from.

He glanced at his phone, barely visible in his lap under the glass table. He’d been itching to give you a call back since this morning. Especially after last night's phone call was cut short by his own fatigue.

He sat there and wondered what you were doing right now. God, how he wanted nothing more than to spend 20 minutes in your presence.

Ever since the wedding, it seemed like the two of you couldn’t catch a break. You both are constantly being pulled away from each other. The mere thought of having a whole evening with you, dinner or something, where the two of you can just be… it was all he could think about.

“…and now we’ll open it up for thoughts on how we might approach portfolio diversification in Q3,” Kent’s voice at the end of the table cut through his thoughts. “Harry, any thoughts?”

He looked up sharply, blinking once as the room’s attention shifted toward him.

He softly cleared his throat, put his phone into his pocket, and straightened his tie. He leaned forward just enough to appear engaged, not like he had mentally disconnected from the meeting 10 slides ago.

“Well,” he began smoothly, “given the volatility we’ve seen in international equities and the Fed’s latest posture, I’d say it’s less about diversification and more abou–” he stopped.

For a moment, he thought his eyes were playing a sick joke on him as he saw you, smiling, walking through the office. His office.

He blinked to refocus his vision, but you were still there. Arm in arm with Ben, both of you heading towards his office.

His heart stuttered, then picked up speed like it was trying to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. A warmth flooded his chest—not the soft kind, but the kind that made him feel a little dizzy. It made him feel alive.

The only thing he could focus on was you— how the light caught your eyes, how your smile lit up the room.

A small smile cracked through onto his lips.

Another executive cleared his throat, which snapped his attention back to the group.

He cleared his throat and turned a soft shade of red. “Excuse me. As I was saying, uh…” He chuckled softly, feeling a bit nervous from his sudden distraction.

He looked at you once more before turning his attention to the table, “It’s less about diversification and more about precision. Risk-adjusted returns only mean something if you’re holding the right risk.”

He watched as a few heads nodded in agreement. One guy scribbled something down on his pad as if it were gospel. No one questioned it. They rarely did with Harry.

He leaned back in his seat and anxiously tapped his thumb against the file folder in front of him, creating a soft thumping.

He wasn’t eager for this meeting to end due to its boredom now; he was keen for it to end so he could go to you.

He watched your location from the corner of his vision. After a few minutes, Ben left and closed his door, meaning only one thing: you were in his office alone, and he could have you all to himself.

About 10 minutes later, Mr. Clarkson, the CEO, stood up and started gathering his belongings. “Thanks so much for your time today, everyone. As a reminder, Ruby will send you all the formal invitations for our dinner party this Friday, involving Tets Investments closing with us.”

His ears perked to the announcement. He'd completely forgotten about it. 'That's it. I'll ask her to be my date...'

Everyone else stood and collected their bearings, nodding in acknowledgment.

A young man opened the glass door and headed towards Harry.

It was his assistant Peter. He had a tablet and a few folders in his arm along with a wireless headset in his ear. “Ok, so you’ve got a meeting with Angela and Bryan from accounting in about 30 minutes. This is the paperwork you need to look over,” he handed Harry the file folder, exchanging it for the one he had from the meeting.

Harry started walking out of the conference room, buttoning his suit jacket up as he strolled, “I need to reschedule that.” He held the folder for Peter to take back.

Peter scoffed, letting out a bewildered chuckle, “What, why?” He took the folder back and began scrolling through Harry’s calendar on the tablet, trying to see what openings were in their schedules to rebook.

“Something came up. Just make it happen please...” he smiled as he straightened his tie and huffed his breath into his palm to check if it smelled decent.

Peter turned his head to observe everything he was doing, confused for a moment but continued. “Uhm, do you need me to reschedule your 3 pm meeting with Elsie from marketing then?”

“Let’s keep that, but I’ll let you know if that needs to be changed.” He went to reach for the handle, but Peter beat him to it out of habit and opened it.

“Of course. Just let me kn—” he stopped, seeing you in the middle of Harry’s office. “Oh…”

You quickly stood and smiled, putting your hands in front of you shyly, “Surprise…” you beamed.

Harry’s head quickly snapped from looking at Peter to you and smiled brightly, playing along with your surprise, “You’re here…” he chuckled and squeezed through the door that Peter was standing gobsmacked in front of.

He came over and gently touched your hand, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

You held up the bag of food in between you, “I uhm, I brought lunch… do you have some time?” your cheeks turned rosy red as he looked down at you.

Peter cleared his throat softly and grinned sinfully, "I’ll see if Elsie can reschedule for tomorrow. I'll tell her something came up...” he teased.

Harry looked back at him and shook his head, smiled softly at the jab, “This is my assistant, Peter.” he looked back at you.

You smiled and held out your hand as you walked over to him, “Peter, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

He took your hand and grinned wider, “Wait... Y/N as in Y/N from the wedding?” he looked at Harry, jaw slacked dramatically.

You chuckled and looked back at him, “Have you been talkin’ about me around the office now?” you teased.

Peter smirked, “Oh, he’s not shut up since… he won’t—”

Harry interjected quickly, turning red, “Is that the phone I hear?” he nodded towards Peter’s desk.

There was no phone ringing.

You bit your lip, trying to hide a giggle, and looked down shyly.

Peter cleared his throat softly, getting the memo Harry was trying to send. “It’s lovely to meet you again,” he said, touching your arm gently. “Enjoy your lunch.”

You smiled softly and thanked him before he closed the door softly.

After a moment of silence, Harry softly cleared his throat and looked over at you, “I uhm… I’ve been meanin’ to call you since last night…” He took off his jacket, placing it on the back of the chair where he stood, and started to roll up his sleeves.

You turned around and tucked some loose hairs behind your ears. “I’ve been meaning to do the same.” You walked over slowly, the tension suddenly felt high.

Another small moment of silence.

“I had things end a little earlier than we planned at the hotel, so I thought I’d… you know… return the favor and come surprise you.” You softly smiled at him.

The act of you matching the level of interest he'd been displaying since the wedding was heartwarming to him. He was getting what he put in, put out towards him. It was something he hadn't had in a partner in a very long time. It was all he wanted, someone to match his love language, or at least appreciate it.

He had a sweet and warm smile across his lips as he watched you, “I’ve missed you…”

You looked down into the bag shyly, “I’ve missed you too…” You started pulling the food out and setting it on the table.

Harry watched for a moment from where he was standing and then moved to stand behind you, putting his hand on the small of your back. “Can I help?”

It was just a touch—barely anything. His hand was barely on your back, light as a whisper.

But it hit like a lightning strike.

A wave of warmth flooded your chest, spreading out like someone had turned on a light from the inside.

Your cheeks burned instantly, that unmistakable flush that crept up your neck no matter how hard you had tried to will it away. Your heart skipped a beat, the one that made your mind short-circuit.

Butterflies? More like a full-blown riot in your stomach.

You turned your head to look at him and nodded but then got lost in his gaze momentarily.

He said your name softly, his eyes flickering to your lips.

You inhaled a shaky, nervous breath before blurting out. “N-Napkins…”

His gaze flickered up to your eyes, grinning like he knew what he was doing to you.

“Do you have any napkins?” you grinned sheepishly.

He nodded. “Yeah, they're in my desk…” He walked around to the other side to retrieve them.

You looked down at the food you’d laid out and tried to settle yourself– taking in a small deep breath.

Harry tutted, “So– I may have figured out a first date for us if you’re up for it?” He looked up from his drawer.

You glanced at him and softly chuckled, “Oh? What would that be?”

He came back around his desk with a small pile of napkins, smiling warmly. He sat down on his desk before taking his sandwich, then patting the area beside him for you to sit. “I have a work dinner party on Friday. It’s a masquerade-type thing…” he kept his gaze on the sandwich as he spoke.

You sat down and looked at him as he spoke, unwrapping your sandwich, “Are you asking me to be your date, Mr. Castillo?” you teased, lightly nudging his side with your elbow.

He let out a light chuckle and looked at you, a twinkle in his big brown eyes had become clearer now that you were closer. “I’m askin’ you to be my date, sweetheart…”

You hummed, and your eyes danced across his features, then you looked down at your sandwich. “In that case, I need to go shopping for a mask…” You smiled as you bit your bottom lip.

“Is that a yes?” he kept his gaze on you, his smile slowly grew.

You looked back up at him and your smile became softer, “That’s a yes…”

He looked back at his sandwich and took a bite, saying with his mouth somewhat full, making you giggle, “Good. Then that means I get to take you dress shopping…”

You also took a bite and then paused, covering your mouth with your hand. “Wait, what?” You thought you misheard him.

He chewed and swallowed, turning to look at you. “I’m taking you dress shopping,” he shrugged, smiling to himself as if it were no big deal.

You chortled, now thinking he was joking.

“What’s so funny?” he smiled innocently.

You tilted your head to the side to gauge him out and scooted away from him to see him better, “Harry, you’re kidding, right?”

His smile didn’t waver as he shook his head, “Why would I joke about that?” he snickered softly.

You stuttered, “I just… like you want to go with me when I shop? Help me pick out something?” You set your sandwich down. This now needing your full, undivided attention.

He set his sandwich down as well and turned slightly, finding you amusing, “I want to buy you a dress, accessories, shoes… the mask… anything you might want for the event.” He reached forward and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to take care of you.”

You looked down shyly at your hand sitting flat on the desk. You didn’t know what to say. You felt like words weren’t computing inside your brain. It was like you were short-circuiting again.

“Will you let me do that?” he asked.

Ben’s words echoed in your head, ‘Let him take care of you.’

You looked up and did the only thing you could. You nodded while a shy smile slipped onto your lips.

“Good.” He leaned forward and softly kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. It was as if he were savoring the tender contact, the intimate gesture. He pulled away and smiled warmly, “Do you have time to go this evening?”

“Yeah… I’ve got time,” you croaked out, your voice cracking slightly. You cleared your throat and lightly let out a chuckle, for which he joined in.

You readjusted to sit back as you were before and picked up your sandwich.

You sat there for a moment, then scooted closer and leaned your head on his shoulder. “So tell me, how was your meeting?” You took a bite, then slid your hand into his.

He couldn’t help the idiot grin he had on his face but couldn’t give a shit.

He hummed softly, contentedly, and took his sandwich with his free hand and sighed softly, “Long version or short version, hermosa?”

You nuzzled your head in softly, “Long version…”

After you left Harry’s work and went back to yours, he told you that he’d pick you up from the hotel to go shopping around 5 pm.

In true Harry Castillo fashion, he was 10 minutes early, standing outside his car with a new bouquet. This time, it was of peonies.

You clocked out a few minutes early and walked out to find him leaning against the all black SUV, his eyes on the flowers. He was now dressed in a tan button-down and dark-wash jeans.

You smiled at the sight, “Do you ever not look dashing?” you teased.

His eyes snapped up to you and instantly had a smile on his face, “Hey there, beautiful…”

You came up and gently kissed his cheek. “What do we have this time?” you looked down at the flowers, your cheeks pink.

He leaned down and kissed your cheek back, then held up the flowers a little to present them, “Peonies…”

You took them from him gently and took a small sniff, “Ooh, I like the smell of those…” you glanced up at him.

He smiled wider, excited, “Oh? Have we found a favorite?” He had his hand gently on yours, his thumb rubbing the outside of your wrist.

You blushed at the tenderness, “I think we have a contender, but let’s still run through other flowers. You know, just to be sure…” You winked.

He chuckled, “Noted.” He then leaned in and kissed your forehead. “Shall we?”

You nodded and went to get into the front passenger seat out of habit.

Meanwhile, he opened the back door for you and waited for you to notice.

You turned around to him, confused about why you'd be sitting in the backseat. But then you saw there was a driver in the front seat and tutted. “Should have known better,” you giggled and came back, getting in the back seat.

Ted, Harry’s driver, took you both to a shopping plaza in SoHo.

The moment Harry opened your door and you stepped out, you saw places like Chanel, Dior, and Louis Vuitton.

You chuckled and shook your head, backing up towards the car, not knowing how to react. “Harry, we are not shopping at places like this… It’s too expensive… I…” You looked up at the pretty neon signs above the store's doors. “This is…” You scoffed, not able to find the words.

You didn’t feel worth it.

You didn’t feel that him spending this much money on you was something you deserved.

It felt wrong. But there it was again, Ben’s words, ‘Let him take care of you,’ and for Harry, this was his way of doing just that.

He chuckled at your reaction and looked at Ted. “Meet us back here in a few hours.”

Ted nodded and drove off, leaving you looking at Harry with a bewildered smile on your face, to which he just smiled adoringly at you.

“What?” you giggled.

He held out his hand and sighed. “Just trust me?” he said, smiling warmly.

You bit your lip and shook your head, but then sighed playfully, “Alright… fine…” You slid your hand into his.

He led you into the first store, Chanel, where a shopping attendant greeted you both at the door, eager to make a nice commission.

She looked lavish and expensive, dressed head to toe in 'completely out of your budget' attire—even the air she was exhaling made you feel poor. “Welcome in! My name is Genevieve. Is there anything I can help you find?”

You looked up to Harry, unsure of what to do or say. Everything about this seemed like an out-of-body experience to you.

He smiled and looked at her, letting go of your hand, setting his on the small of your back. “Genevieve, we have a masquerade ball this weekend, and she needs a new dress, new shoes… she needs it all,” he grinned.

You smiled shyly at her, “Maybe we can just start with a dress? I have stuff at home, I’m sure I can use…” You looked up at Harry for a moment, then back at her.

You didn’t want to be like every other girl Harry had been with; you didn’t want to feel like a gold digger.

He mouthed to her, ‘Everything’, then winked and grinned.

She chuckled and nodded at him, understanding completely. “Well, that sounds like fun!” She looked at you and said, “Let's start with what colors you have in mind?”

She started to walk through the store, heading towards the dresses, and you both followed close behind.

You looked around, eyes scanning over everything. It was all so immaculate, gleaming, and expensive. You’d never even thought you’d own anything like this, let alone be walking through one of the stores. “Well, I usually go towards darker colors, but I’ve been told I look good in red?” you glanced at her.

She nodded and started skimming through some of the selections, grabbing some options, humming as she did so.

Harry walked to another section with you, pulling out a dark red dress, one with a slit up the thigh, but it was just what you liked or would have picked out yourself. “Thoughts?” He glanced at you.

You nodded and smiled, barely running your fingers over the silky fabric, “I like it.”

Genevieve gasped, coming over, seeing his selection, “Good choice!” She smiled and took it from him, putting it in the small pile she’d gathered over her arm. “Why don’t we try these on? And then we can narrow down what we do and don’t like– and if we need to go from there.”

You nodded and smiled.

“Perfect. If you’d follow me… and then Mr. Castillo, if you’ll take a seat, we’ll get started.” She nodded for you to follow her.

Harry softly rubbed your back, “I’ll just be out here,” then kissed your cheek gently.

You nodded and smiled up at him.

You walked away and followed her into the dressing room, your hands shyly behind your back.

You entered the dressing room and changed into a dark brown dress with a very deep bust and dangerously high slit up the thigh. It felt a little too inappropriate for the party you were attending.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and shook your head, then looked at Genevieve, “I think this is too much…” You looked down at the plunge that opened up your cleavage, blushing at what Harry might think.

“Do you want to go out and show your boyfriend? Just to get a feel for it?” She smiled and tilted her head, “You know, give him a show?” She giggled playfully.

“Oh, um, he’s not my— well not yet… I mean, I hope eventually he– Fuck sorry...” You were stumbling over your words.

She grinned and tilted her head mischievously, “Even more reason to then…”

You chuckled lightly and looked back at yourself in the mirror. You had to admit, you looked good. No. You looked fucking amazing. The dress accentuated your curves, complemented your skin tone, it made you radiant. “Alright…” you looked at her. “What’s the harm?” you smirked and picked up the front to walk out.

She cleared her throat and began walking to the main floor to catch Harry's attention.

Harry was sitting back on the couch, but then immediately straightened up and turned a light shade of red the moment he saw you. He quietly cleared his throat and mumbled under his breath, “Fuck me…”

You stepped onto the platform and turned to look in the mirrors, watching Harry’s reaction from behind you with a slight smirk.

“You’re wearing one of our vintage evening gowns from 1987…” She began straightening some parts as she continued, “This is typically worn with black velvet gloves, which would go quite nicely with your masquerade theme…” She began to adjust the train of the dress to present it.

Harry was speechless. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, off your body.

His mouth went dry. His mind—usually so sharp, so calculated—was suddenly fogged with one thought, one need, one echo pounding in time with his pulse:

Want.

His pulse thundered in his ears. The slit in the dress climbed like a secret up your thigh, and the way your eyes flicked to him in the mirror—slow, knowing—sent fire curling in his gut.

His thoughts? Completely undone. Replaced by vivid flashes: your back against a wall, lips crashing into his, fingers in his hair, that dress tangled somewhere on the floor.

Genevieve clocked his reaction in the mirror and glanced at you, giving you a knowing wink and a slight smirk.

You turned around and smiled innocently his way, “Thoughts?”

His eyes continued to drink you in, eyes trailing down your body— not hearing a word you said.

You let out a soft giggle, “Harry?”

His gaze snapped up to yours, and he cleared his throat, turning a darker shade of red.

“Sorry, sweetheart, did you say something? I…” he ran his thumb over his bottom lip and looked back down your body, “You look…" he exhaled, "Wow…” he said lowly, sitting forward a bit.

You blushed and turned back to look at yourself in the mirror. “I feel it might be too much for a work party, you know?” You slid your hands down your body to smooth out the dress. Not knowing it was doing something to him, giving him a little show.

He chuckled nervously as he adjusted his hips from the unwelcome bulge starting to form. “I… look, you’re hearin’ no complaints from me…” He swallowed, trying to calm himself down.

You looked back at him and bit your bottom lip, “So, you like this one?”

His eyes snapped back up to yours and he grinned, “Darlin’, you make anythin’ look good… Of course I like it.” he nodded towards the dressing rooms, “But let’s try on some more, get a feel for what you like, not what I like...” he raised his eyebrow, being supportive of you dressing for you, not for him.

Genevieve spoke up, “I like what he said. This is about what you like.” She offered her hand. “Plus, we can always return to this one and see if our minds change…” She looked up at you and smiled politely.

You looked down at Genevieve, taking her hand, stepping off the platform, and smiled back, “I agree…”

She nodded and then led you back to the dressing room, where she had you put on a few more dresses.

You walked out and showed Harry each time, but they didn’t have the same reaction as the first—for you or him.

However, there was one last dress.

It was the one that Harry had found.

And once it was on you, it fit like a glove.

It was everything— elegant, sexy, tasteful, but allowed for slight teasing.

It had a high slit up the thigh and had a somewhat lower cut in the bust. However, it was more tasteful than the first as it highlighted your collarbones and shoulders beautifully.

You couldn’t help but beam when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked radiant.

You walked out to see Harry on his phone texting, but the second he heard Genevieve’s high heels hit the floor, his attention snapped up.

It was like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs the way his breath caught as he saw you.

You bit your bottom lip and blushed at the clear reaction. You knew this one was it with how his eyes drank every inch of you in.

The first was fun—something to wear to a more intimate and casual event. However, this one was tasteful and had the exact same effect on him, leaving him speechless.

You stepped up and looked into the mirrors. You now were able to see how it hugged every curve of you beautifully. Every line— highlighted.

You worked your angles, making sure everything fit perfectly, and then looked at Harry in the mirror, “Thoughts?”

He took a moment to absorb how beautiful you looked.

He was thinking about how much he’d been waiting for so long to feel this way for someone, and now here you are— right in front of him. He wasn’t going to let you go or let you down. As he looked at you in this moment, not only was the dress the one, but so are you.

He smiled adoringly and nodded at you, “I’m going to be the luckiest man at the party with how beautiful you look in that dress, querida…” He leaned forward, giving you his fullest attention.

You blushed and found his eyes in the mirror. You took a deep breath and nodded at him, "Ok, this is the one."

Genevieve giggled, which pulled your focus to her. She clapped her hands together a couple times, “Ah! I love it! This dress was made for you…”

She took a step back and hummed, “However, it’s missing something…” She tapped her fingers on her lips as she began thinking for a few seconds, then she lit up and held up a finger, “I’ve got it! Wait here…” She then disappeared into the store on the hunt.

You looked back over your shoulder and chuckled, “What could possibly be missing?”

Harry looked behind his shoulder to see where she had gone, but couldn’t find her.

He looked back at you, and both of you smiled shyly at each other.

He stood from the couch and made his way over to you. The closer he got, the more his eyes ran over every part of you. You shyly looked back at the mirror and watched his movements.

He hummed before offering his hand for you to step off the platform, “Well… it may not be what she’s thinking… but I do have something in mind that I’ve been thinking might make it better…”

You took his hand and stepped off the platform, slightly confused but intrigued. You looked up at him and smiled softly, “Oh? What would that be?” you teased, feeling shy under his gaze.

He swallowed down his nerves, then found your eyes, “Just my opinion, but…” He slowly reached up and cupped your cheek before leaning in, his voice a hushed whisper lost between the beats of your heart. His thumb brushed gently along your cheekbone, eyes searching yours like he needed to be sure this moment was real.

The world seemed to blur around you—no more noise, no more people, just the closeness between you and him. You could feel the warmth of his breath as the space narrowed, your lips a breath apart.

Your hands—unsure at first—found their way to the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling lightly near his chest. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your palms, quick like yours. One hand slid up almost instinctively, fingertips grazing the side of his neck, drawn to the way he leaned into your touch.

“…this,” he finished, his words trembling on the edge of a kiss.

Your thoughts became rushed—Is this really happening? Can he feel how nervous I am? God, please don’t mess this up. But beneath all that noise was something quieter, something softer: I want this. I want him.

And then he closed the distance.

It was gentle and deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, all those thoughts dissolved. There was only the feeling—the warmth, the closeness, the way the world melted away until it was just him.

Your fingers tightened slightly in his shirt as the kiss deepened, just a little, and you tilted your head to meet him more fully. You felt seen. Wanted. Safe.

When he pulled back, barely an inch, his forehead rested against yours. His breath mingled with yours, both of you smiling in the quiet.

Your eyes flutter open, and you let out a soft chuckle, whispering, “I um, I think to add that to the outfit, there’s an added fee…” you joked, gently caressing his jawline with your fingertips, studying his features, memorizing everything about this moment.

His eyes remained closed, forehead still against yours as he chuckled, low and warm in his chest, before he leaned back in and murmured against your lips, “Whatever the price… I’ll pay millions if it means I get to kiss you like that, querida…”

You barely had time to smile before his lips were on yours again—this time slower, deeper, like he had all the time in the world and no intention of rushing any second of it.

His hand slid from your cheek down to your waist, fingers splaying there as he gently pulled you in, closing the last bit of distance between your bodies. The warmth of his touch burned through the thin fabric, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands moved instinctively, trailing up his chest—feeling the steady beat of his heart — before loosely wrapping around his neck, fingertips threading into his hair. You tilted your head slightly, leaning into him, meeting the kiss with just as much quiet urgency.

It was deep, but not desperate—tender in its intensity. He kissed you like he needed you to feel what he couldn’t quite say out loud yet. Like he wanted you to know this wasn’t just a moment. It was the moment.

Your breaths mingled, uneven now, but neither of you seemed to care. The world outside your embrace didn’t exist anymore—not when his thumb was drawing slow circles against your waist, not when you felt him smile slightly against your lips like kissing you was the best decision he'd ever made.

Genevieve’s voice cut through the haze you two were in, making you both slowly pull away and look at each other, both smiling like idiots.

“I found thi—” she saw what she’d interrupted and shyly chuckled, “Oh, pardon me, umm…” she turned away, attempting to give you both privacy.

Harry lightly chuckled and kissed your forehead. “No, no… pardon me...” He let go of your waist and looked at Genevieve as she turned back around, his lips somewhat red and cheeks rosy. “What did you find for her?” he nodded to her as he went and sat back down.

You let out a slow exhale, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear as she came over and had some jewelry and handbags to show you.

You looked away first, cheeks warming all over again as Genevieve continued talking, holding up a clutch with little gold details. You nodded along, barely catching half of what she said—your heart still somewhere between his hands and that kiss.

You caught him glancing at you again from the corner of your eye.

Not in a way that demanded anything, just… there. Warm, steady, a little breathless—like he was still replaying that kiss in his head the same way you were.

Your lips curved into a shy smile before you could stop it. You no longer tried to hide it. Not when the air still hummed between you. Not when he looked at you like that kiss opened up that part in his heart deep down like it did for you.

He tilted his head just slightly, like he was memorizing the way you looked when you were trying not to smile. Like this was his new favorite view.

Genevieve didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she was kind enough to pretend. She kept chatting as she turned to the mirror, holding up one of the necklaces to your neckline.

And in the quiet moment that followed, your eyes met his again.

This time, you held the look.

Long enough for it to say everything,

I liked that. I want more. We’re not done.

And when he gave you that barely-there smile again—the one that said I know, me too—your heart skipped, flipped, and practically melted into your chest.

Friday

You managed to get off work around 4 pm, as you were panicking about being ready on time.

Harry told you last night that he’d pick you up at seven. With that being said, that would give you 3 hours to run around your place like a madwoman while Lila chased you around, trying to help put you together.

As expected, he knocked right on time, 7 pm sharp.

Lila was still there unexpectedly, as there was a last-minute makeup snafu.

You whispered hearing the door, “Fuck! You aren’t supposed to be here!”

She quietly giggled and shoved you towards the door.

You turned back and chuckled, pointing behind the couch, “Hide! Quickly!”

She ran and hid behind the couch, peeking around so she could see the front door.

You let out a breath and shook your hands shaking out all the nerves.

You hadn’t seen Harry since that day he took you shopping. Afterwards, both your schedules picked up again– his taking him out of town for the last couple of days.

All the nervousness and tension had been building up from the calls and texts you two shared over the last couple of days. You both were very eager to see each other.

Lila popped out and loudly whispered, “Oh for Christ sake, open the door!”

You turned around and waved her off, shushing her, giggling.

She popped back down, and you opened the door— and there he was.

He looked absolutely devastating in a dark, subtly patterned suit that hugged his frame perfectly, the crisp white of his shirt peeking through just enough to make him seem both dangerous and heartbreakingly polite. His hair was tousled back, like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times in nervous excitement. He had a little smirk across his lips — the one that made his deep-set eyes soften — aimed straight at you.

‘God damn it, how was I supposed to survive tonight when he looks like that?’

He was holding a bouquet that was wrapped in brown paper, tied sweetly with a dark red bow, one to match your dress.

The moment he laid eyes on you, for a second — maybe longer — he forgot how to breathe.

He dragged his eyes back up to yours, trying (and failing) not to look too awestruck. His heart was pounding like he’d just run a mile.

"Wow..." he breathed out, voice a little rougher than he intended. He chuckled low, shaking his head as he stepped closer, the world around him narrowing down to nothing but you.

"You’re... you're going to ruin me tonight, aren’t you?" he smirked.

Before you could even tease him back with a response, he was already moving, drawn in like gravity had decided you were the center of the universe.

He cupped your face gently, and then he kissed you — slow at first, like he wanted to savor the moment, then a little deeper when he felt you lean into him.

It wasn't rushed, wasn't messy — it was the kind of kiss that promised a night neither of you would forget, filled with heat, laughter, and something dangerously close to falling head over heels.

When he finally pulled back, barely an inch, his forehead rested against yours, and he whispered, a little breathless, "You have no idea what you’re doing to me..."

You breathlessly whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I’ve missed you…”

He smiled like he’d never smiled before hearing that. His arm moved down to wrap around your waist and pull you close to him, “God, I’ve missed you too…”

You giggled and leaned back in, forgetting about Lila completely– who was watching from behind the couch with a shit eating grin on her face trying not to make a peep.

This time, you kissed him deeper.

You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, needing something to hold onto as the kiss grew hotter, messier — the kind that made time stutter and your heart pound in your ears.

He tilted his head, deepening it even more, a low sound escaping from the back of his throat that made your knees threaten to give out. It wasn’t just desire in the kiss — it was something hungry, something that said he’d been waiting for this without even realizing it.

When you finally broke apart, both of you felt a little dizzy. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in like you were oxygen.

"If we don't leave right now..." he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "... I’m not sure we ever will." He gently squeezed your waist, pulling you close to him.

You swallowed and nodded, your eyes staying closed for a moment while you centered yourself.

Your eyes opened, and slowly, reluctantly pulled away from him, blushing, “I uhm, I need to grab my mask and purse.”

You nodded to your living room, “Make yourself at home.”

You went to turn away when he gasped and pulled you back, “Shit, I uhm, I got these for you…” he held up the bouquet between the two of you, smiling down at you.

You leaned down and sniffed them, blushing as he watched.

“Chocolate ranunculus…” he softly said.

“I like them. They match my dress…” You smiled sweetly up at him.

He tutted and tilted his head, biting his lip, “That may have been intentional, hermosa…”

You hummed and took them from him softly, “Well, I’m going to go put these in a vase before we leave… I’ll be quick.” You reached up on your toes and pecked his lips, leaving him smiling like a fool as you disappeared down the hall.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, still feeling the ghost of your lips, and began casually pacing your living room — taking in the framed photos, souvenirs, and small touches that felt undeniably you.

His smile widened when he spotted a photo of you and Lila on your wall at the beach, arms wrapped around each other, laughing mid-splash.

That’s when he heard it — the soft creak of movement behind the couch.

He tilted his head slowly. “You know,” he said, loud enough to be heard but still casual, “if you’re gonna spy on your sister’s love life, Lila, you should at least bring popcorn to enjoy the show.”

Lila popped up like a guilty meerkat, her expression caught somewhere between sheepish and exasperated. “I knew I should’ve hid in the coat closet,” she muttered.

He crossed his arms, grinning smugly. “That would’ve made it so much less suspicious...” He chuckled.

“Don’t look so proud of yourself, okay?” she grumbled. “I wasn’t spying. I was... waiting for my moment to escape when you two left.”

“By hiding behind a piece of furniture like a sitcom character?” he teased.

“You were early!” she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger.

He just laughed. “I was on time!”

Just then, you reappeared, carrying a vase of freshly arranged flowers — and immediately froze.

“Oh my God.” You stared at the two of them, eyes wide. “Lila you didn’t just see—”

“She did,” he said, without missing a beat.

“She didn’t,” Lila cut in at the same time, trying to sidestep around him with her dignity barely intact.

“You did, you saw…” you groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified.

Lila chuckled, feeling your embarrassment, “I’m sorry… but for the record... you guys are adorable... all love sick and needy!” she teased.

You waved a hand at the door. “Just go. Get out. Shoo. Go. Vanish...”

Lila muttered something under her breath that made Harry chuckle, then finally slipped out, leaving the door swinging shut behind her.

He looked at you, still smiling. “You two really are sisters.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your clutch and mask. “Oh, stop it...” Your cheeks are still red with embarrassment.

He chuckled lowly. “You’re cute when you’re like this…” he said, offering you his arm. “Ready?”

You looped your arm through his, still grinning as the two of you stepped out into the night — leaving behind the flowers, the laughter, and the sister-shaped chaos.

Ted drove the two of you to the Cipriani 25 Broadway venue.

When the two of you got inside, the hall was packed.

His hand was warm against the small of your back as the heavy doors creaked open before the two of you. For a moment, you both just stood there, the world inside the ballroom spilling out, enchanting you.

The hall was bathed in gold and shadow, candlelight flickering off marble columns — soaring, painted ceilings.

Nearly two hundred masked figures swirled and laughed, their movements weaving an intricate and glowing motion.

You could hear music coming from a hidden quartet, which made the atmosphere feel delicate and rich.

You felt his breath hitch– you glanced up to find him already looking down at you. His dark suit caught the light just right. It was enough to hint at its texture — and the sharp line of his jaw was only partly hidden by the black Venetian mask he wore. He looked deliciously handsome, and you could instantly tell he was the envy of the room — as most of the women’s heads turned towards him.

"You’re breathtaking," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear, his voice rough around the edges. His fingers squeezed gently at your waist to reassure himself that you were real and his.

You smiled behind your delicate, dark red mask and reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his with easy, intimate familiarity. “I feel quite lucky tonight…”

He let out a soft chuckle as the two of you began strolling further inside to find a table. “Why’s that?”

Sharp eyes behind jeweled masks raked over his tall frame, his dark suit cut to perfection, as he strode with quiet confidence.

And then they looked at you. At his hand, which you held. How close the two of you walked. At how his attention — his energy — and how it was wholly yours.

It felt electric. Intoxicating.

You lifted your chin slightly as you moved past them, feeling bold beneath your lace mask. Their stares didn’t shake you once. In fact, you felt emboldened by them. Let them look. Let them wonder who you were, and what you’d done to make him look at you the way he did.

“You seem to have been the goal for all the single ladies tonight, and I’m afraid I may have stepped on some toes... burst some bubbles…” You nodded towards a group of women — their eyes not so subtly watching the two of you, drinking champagne, surely gossiping about who you were and why you’re with him.

Harry looked that way, then he stopped and slowly pulled you close, “Then why don’t we give them somethin’ better to stare and gossip about?” he grinned sinfully.

You barely had time to process the mischievous gleam in his eye before he slid his hand along your jaw, tilting your chin up toward him. The music, the crowd, the glittering spectacle of the ballroom — all of it blurred into nothing the second he leaned in.

His mouth captured yours in a slow, almost teasing kiss. His thumb brushed along your cheek as if he was savoring the moment, deepening it little by little until you felt yourself melting into him.

Gasps rippled through the nearby crowd that you’d just pointed out. You could feel the stares on you like a thousand tiny sparks, but you didn’t care. Not when his arms wrapped fully around you, drawing you so tightly against him that there was no mistaking it — no mistaking the claim he was making by doing this.

The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, his hand sliding down your spine in a way that made you arch instinctively closer. When he finally pulled back — reluctantly, slowly — he stayed close enough that you could still feel the brush of his breath against your mouth.

He grinned, all wickedness and charm.

“Think they got the message?” he murmured, softly nudging his nose against yours.

You barely found your voice. “Loud and clear.”

He chuckled low, stealing one more soft, lingering kiss before slipping his arm firmly around your waist and leading you further into the glittering masquerade, leaving behind a trail of envious stares and whispered speculation in your wake.

And you couldn’t help the smile that curved your lips.

If they weren’t watching before, they sure as hell were now.

The night went on with dinner and the importance of this event was discussed around you — closing the deal with Tets Investments.

When the two of you sat down to eat dinner a few of his coworkers attempted to talk shop. However, he constantly shifted the conversation to topics you could be included in as well as the other plus ones.

You admired how he spoke to others — he was confident but not arrogant. He made everyone feel welcome, included, and supported. It wasn’t a shock that there were so many people who came to say hello. Each time he’d hold you close, introduce you, and keep you involved in whatever was being discussed.

Close to 9 o'clock, the rhythm slowed down, and the two of you stood in the back of the ballroom, sipping champagne, watching those on the dance floor.

Harry stood with his arm around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. He whispered little facts or stories about certain people to you he'd pointed out, fully opening up his world — his life to you.

You had never felt so welcomed into someone’s life. Everyone you’d been with in the last couple of years was always so shut off. They always had something to hide. They feared letting you get too close, or maybe you didn’t want to get that close deep down. But, things with Harry felt different. At some points, it's all too good to be true. You’ve thought he deserves better, but there he is, every time those thoughts come up, reassuring he wants nothing — nobody but you.

—

The music shifted at one point—a slow, pulsing waltz began. Without a word, he moved from behind you and tugged gently at your hand, his other settling possessively at your waist. Your breath caught as he pulled you close, chest to chest, the heat of him sinking through the silk of your dress.

"You owe me a dance," he said, voice a low tease against the shell of my ear.

You smiled, tilting your head up toward him. "I don’t remember agreeing to that, handsome."

His mouth curved into a lazy, wicked grin. "You didn’t. I’m cashing it in anyway."

Before you could say another word, he guided you onto the floor, folding you into him so naturally it felt like both of you had danced this way a hundred times before.

He pulled you closer, his hand sliding low on your back as you moved together, bodies swaying in time with the slow, sultry music. The candlelight flickered across his mask, but you could still see the warmth in his brown eyes — the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire room.

He leaned in, his mouth brushing just beside your ear as he whispered, voice rich and teasing, "You know, I think you might just be my favorite view tonight."

Your breath caught, a smile curving your lips as a delicious shiver ran down your spine.

You tilted your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze — playful, daring.

"Just tonight?" you teased.

He laughed under his breath, the sound low and intimate, and tightened his hold ever so slightly, pulling you even closer.

"Darlin', you've been my favorite view every night since that wedding..."

Your heart skipped wildly in your chest, the world around you fading even further away as you let yourself fall a little deeper into him.

The music slowed down as it wrapped around you both. His fingers tightened gently on yours, and without warning, he spun you out — just a step, just far enough that you caught a few eyes, those still envious of you and their stares aimed at you.

You laughed, the sound light and breathless, and the moment your hand found his again, he pulled you right back in — closer than before.

The smile he wore was adoring and charming — he looked at you as if you were the moon and stars.

Then, before you could catch your breath, he slid his hand down your back and dipped you low, his arm strong and sure behind you, the beautiful painted ceiling above you with the skylight creating a halo around his head.

The world spun, tilted, and all you could do was cling to him, laughing, and breathless as you stared up into his smiling eyes.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered, just for you.

He brought you up slowly, holding you so close your masks brushed, your noses almost touching, your breaths shared in the tiny space between you.

You clutched at his lapel, heart hammering in your chest, completely lost in the moment — but completely his.

You tilted your chin up and closed the distance between the two of you.

The kiss started slow, achingly slow — the two of you memorizing it all, the feeling of each other in one another's arms.

But then he groaned low in his throat, a sound that went straight through you, causing an ache to stir deep below, between your legs.

You deepened the kiss — heated, hungry, losing every bit of restraint you had pretended to have all night.

His hand slid higher, threading into the hair at the back of your head, anchoring you to him.

When he finally pulled back after the song ended and started into a new one, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard, smiling without meaning to.

"God help me…" he muttered against your lips, "... you’re going to be the death of me tonight if you keep kissin’ me like that."

Before either of you could speak again — still breathless, still clinging to the high of that kiss, a deep, rich voice cut clean through the haze.

“There you are.”

You both turned slightly, still tangled together. A tall man in a navy velvet jacket stood a few feet away. He exuded the unmistakable air of people around him beckoning to his call.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he added with a cheeky smile that said otherwise, “but I need a quick word with you before the Tets people get too deep into the champagne.” he nodded towards a group of people across the room, all enjoying the party. He turned to Harry, touching his shoulder, starting to pull him to join him, completely ignoring you.

You felt Harry shift, his posture subtly straightening, and just like that, the man you’d been dancing with, the one who’d whispered things that still buzzed in your veins — slipping into something more polished, more composed. But his hand didn’t leave your waist, he didn’t let himself be pulled away towards the gentleman.

“Of course, sir,” he said, then paused — just long enough to turn to you and place a steadying hand on the small of your back. “But before I disappear—” he looked back at the man, his voice smooth, but warm, “—I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend.”

‘Girlfriend? Did he really just say that?’

The word hung in the air for half a second longer than it should have, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your heart pound excitedly.

Your eyes fluttered up at him, but he didn’t flinch — just gave you the softest, quickest squeeze at your side. His eyes flicked down, as if to say yes, I meant that, and I hope you’re okay with this, all at once.

A blush flared beneath my mask, but you managed a graceful and polite smile as the gentleman held out his hand for you to shake.

You gently took it and quickly ran through your head at who he may be. He was someone higher than Harry who commanded respect. From conversations with him, the only person you could think of that he could be was the CEO, so you took a blind shot. “You must be Mr. Clarkson, it’s lovely to meet you, sir.”

“Pleasure is all mine, sweetheart,” he said, gently shaking your hand.

'Bullseye. Thank god'

He offered a short soft smile. “Glad he’s not here alone — man needs someone to keep him grounded.”

You shook his hand and offered some polite response that you barely remembered the second it left your mouth, because your brain was still short-circuiting around that one word.

Girlfriend.

Mr. Clarkson nodded at Harry to follow him before walking away.

Harry leaned down again, his voice lower, private, “I’ll make this fast. Don’t run off too far.” he joked and gave you a quick wink.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” You whispered back, still trying to keep the smile in your voice as your thoughts were running wild.

He brushed his lips against your cheek ever so softly.

Before you knew it, he turned to follow his boss toward the edge of the ballroom, already murmuring numbers and terms as they walked away — leaving you on cloud nine.

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