#blue chic boutique

[jamiefartt]

richmond's receptionist; part three

part 1, part 2

pairings: jamie tartt x reader, whole cast is mentioned

summary: with Rebecca's charity gala rapidly approaching, Jamie tries to get you to be his date, so why not take you dress shopping?

words: 19 458

warnings: no smut but hot n steamy descriptions and def some thirsting, alcohol (pls don't mix ur drinks).

outfit references: x your dress x Keeley's dress x Rebecca's dress

———

standing in front of the small mirror hanging above your bathroom sink, you brush your fingers through your damp hair. you're dressed in your work clothes, chic pleated trousers paired with a billowy blue blouse tucked into the waistband. you sigh as you lean on the sink, the porcelain cool to the touch. you pick up your mascara from next to the sink, leaning close to the mirror and carefully brushing it onto your eyelashes. once applied, you admire the way your eyes pop, accentuated by the makeup.

normally, you would dot some blush across your cheeks, but expecting you'll be seeing Jamie at work all day, you know you won't need the added flush of colour.

adding a tint of red to your lips, you begin doing your hair, masterfully tying it up into a half-up half-down hairstyle. you pucker your lips in the mirror, turning your head side to side to make sure everything is in place. a smile appears on your face, your confidence surging as you look at yourself.

as much as you're getting ready for yourself, you can't help but imagine the look on Jamie's face when he sees you today, especially after the teasing trick you pulled on him yesterday evening. of course you always try to look good at work, but the added effort is worth it for the potential to make the Jamie Tartt even a little bit flustered.

the music playing through your cozy apartment is interrupted by your phone ringing, and you rush from the bathroom to turn it off, toothbrush still in your mouth. seeing Keeley's name written across your screen, you answer, and the call opens onto her sitting at her vanity doing her own makeup.

"hey babe," she says, mouth agape in an O-shape as she curls her eyelashes. she's wrapped in her fluffy pink dressing gown and has matching coloured hair curlers wrapped in her locks.

"good morning, y/n." Roy speaks from the plush sofa behind her. in contrast to Keeley, he's fully dressed, leather jacket and all.

you wave at the couple, walking back to the bathroom to rinse your mouth. once the toothbrush and suds are down the drain, you can finally say: "hey guys! how are things?"

Roy says nothing, only giving you a thumbs up as he keeps his eyes on the book he's reading. back in your bedroom, you place your phone on the bed as you begin sliding on your staple jewellery.

"great! now, listen y/n, Rebecca's charity gala is this weekend and we need to get you a dress," Keeley says sternly, now putting on mascara.

"oh– I'm sure I have a dress in my closet somewhere," you say, turning and opening your cupboard to see if you have anything adequate.

Keeley bursts into a cackle, catching you off guard; "no, no, you need something new... something expensive and rich that will blow Jamie's socks off! or, you know, you could do that."

"oh my God, Keeley!" you shriek, your mouth flying open at her words. her laugh echoes loudly through your phone and you can't help but giggle along with her. picking up your phone, you head to your living room, grabbing your handbag from the sofa before heading to the front door.

Keeley continues explaining as you struggle to slip on your shoes with your free hand whilst holding your phone and your bag in the other; "I've booked you an appointment for tomorrow at a dress boutique in town. I can go with you if you'd like, just let me know."

"oh wow, that's amazing. thank you so so much!" with your flats slipped on, you pick up your work heels and shove them in your bag. you pant a breath before clicking open your door and heading out to your hallway. your voice echoes as you head into the stairwell of your apartment building; "are you sure, Keeley? I mean, it seems a bit excessive and I doubt I could afford anything too exp–"

"where the fuck are you?" Keeley interrupts you, peering at her phone screen with squinted eyes.

"I'm leaving my place, I like taking the stairs." you shrug in response.

"ooh, is that how you keep your glutes so tight then?" she sticks her tongue out at you playfully, and you laugh at her words.

"shut up," you reply and playfully roll your eyes.

"anyway," Keeley continues, "don't worry about the price, Rebecca said she'd cover it."

your eyes blow wide open, and you almost tumble down the stairs in shock; "what?! no, absolutely not!"

"hush, y/n, I don't wanna hear it. we're gonna make you look the sexiest you ever have in your life!"

finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, having descended 4 whole floors, you push through the double doors leading to the small car park outside. passing straight past your beaten-up old car, you walk onto the footpath.

"Keeley, I really don't think I can accept that,"

"are you walking to work?" she says, ignoring your sentiment. you shake your head a little, surprised by her question.

"yeah?"

"why?"

"because I like to walk."

"Keeley–" Roy begins, but Keeley interrupts him, "okay, y/n, gotta go. see you at work!"

before you can say bye, your phone beeps, and the screen goes black. you stop in your tracks, staring down at your phone. quickly typing in your password, you go to check your texts.

"oi!" someone shouts to you, and the fright almost makes you drop your phone. a hand flies to your chest as you look up, not at all expecting who you see.

"Isaac?" you ask, leaning down to look through his car window.

"get in. lemme give you a lift." he says before pressing a button on his dashboard. the passenger door suddenly opens, and your eyebrows raise at his evidently very expensive sports car.

without a word, you drop your phone into your handbag and walk around the car, slipping into the passenger seat.

"thanks, Isaac." you smile at him, and surprisingly, he cracks a wide, toothy one back at you. the sight makes you smile even more, and you wonder if you're bond with the Richmond players is going beyond just Jamie.

"were you walking to work?" he asks you, pushing his foot to the gas pedal and continuing down the road.

"yeah?"

"why?"

"because I like– why is that so shocking?"

your frustration evident in your voice, Isaac glances at you with a scared expression. "I was just asking," he mutters, and you sigh in exaggerated annoyance with a smile before turning your head to look out the car window. you settle into a few seconds of silence, just admiring the view of Richmond's greenery as you drive. music plays quietly through Isaac's speakers, and you enjoy the peaceful company.

"Isaac?" you ask, still staring out the window.

"yeah?" he replies gently.

"has Jamie ever mentioned me at training or anything?"

Isaac chuckles to himself, thinking for a moment before replying: "he doesn't talk about you really, but he does ask about you."

"what do you mean?" you turn to look at him, placing your elbow on the door and playing with your hair.

"like, when Keeley comes in to do promo with us, he'll hang back to ask her questions about you."

"like what?" you feel a blush appear on your face as you get shy at the thought.

"a few weeks ago, when the sign-in thing started, he asked her how long you'd worked at Richmond. then a few days later, he asked her if you were single."

"really?" you laugh, "what a slag."

Isaac laughs with you, shaking his head; "truer words have never been spoken,"

a few beats pass as your laughter dies down, and the thought of Jamie being so curious about you surprises you. he always acts so cool and unbothered, and you've only seen him soften a few times, so knowing he still thought about you before you'd even properly spoken warms something in your chest.

"but, y/n, I do wanna say..." Isaac keeps his eyes on the road as his voice softens, "whatever it is Jamie feels towards you, it's clearly something real. since you two have been doing this thing, he's been kinder, not just to us but also himself. I don't know how you got through to him, but whatever it is please don't stop. we've all seen the way he looks at you, he really likes you, mate."

lips parted and eyes wide, your gaze is fixed on the road in front of you. you're speechless, and all that's going through your mind is Jamie; how he looks at you, how he touches you, his scent and the feeling of his lips brushing past yours. before you can think of anything to say, Isaac pulls into the Richmond car park. he parks his car smoothly, slotting it next to Colin's dented Lamborghini.

"look, you don't have to tell me how you feel about him, but try not to break his heart too much if you have to." Isaac says, turning to look at you.

you nod a few times, clicking open your seatbelt before looking up at him through your eyelashes; "Isaac," you say, "I'm way too into him to break his heart."

he squints at you, obviously suppressing a smile, and he presses the buttons to open your doors.

"cheers, bruv." he nods at you.

"thanks for the lift, Isaac." you nod at him too.

both of you exit the car without another word, and you hurry in the door so you can get started with your day. unsurprisingly, Colin is already inside standing at your desk.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles at you.

"hey, Colin. sorry I'm late!" you hop behind the desk and sit in your chair, quickly changing your flats into your heels. you take the sign-in clipboard from atop the desk, only to notice you don't need to change its pages at all.

"oh," you say before putting it back in its place, "can I help you with anything Colin?"

you expect Colin to answer, but he stays silent as Isaac squeezes past him and signs in. you stare at him expectantly, and Colin just looks at you nervously until Isaac is walking down the hallway.

"are you okay?" you ask him quietly, leaning closer to him. he glances around suspiciously, making sure the coast is clear and Isaac is out of earshot.

"yeah, I just need your advice on something."

"hit me," you smile.

"I've been seeing this guy for maybe... two or three months? and I'm not sure if it's too soon to invite him to the gala this weekend."

"oh my God, Colin! that's so exciting! I'd say go for it, it's definitely not too soon." you assure him, smiling wide. his face mirrors yours and a blush appears on his cheeks.

"okay, great, thanks y/n!" he says before jogging down the hallway and to the locker room.

you smile to yourself, wondering when you became his go-to for advice. you won't complain, you're happy to make friends with the Richmond players.

"what's he so happy about?" Jamie's voice pipes up beside you as he places a coffee cup on your desk, watching as Colin borderline skips his way through the building.

you smile at him, picking up the cup. before it reaches your lips you look up at him with a sceptical look; "this isn't gonna be fucking green tea again is it?"

"don't worry, love." he assures you, sending you a wink as he finishes signing in. placing his elbow on your desk, he leans against it casually, smirking down at you. you furrow your brows, slightly suspicious of his intentions after the morning before. taking a sip, you're pleasantly delighted at the taste, although he didn't bring you a latte.

"hot chocolate?" you smile up at Jamie.

"yeah..." he says, eyes soft and smile genuine, "with a shot of whiskey."

your face drops suddenly as the aloholic aftertaste hits your throat. your nostrils flare as hot anger fills your veins, and you stand up from your seat in shock; "Jamie! what the fuck?!"

Jamie sticks his tongue out and cackles, slapping a hand to your desk before running backwards down the hallway. as you stand behind your desk, breath heaving, he blows you a kiss.

frustrated, you roll your eyes and grunt, sitting down again. you pick up your cup, lifting the lid and bringing it to your face. you inhale, instantly smelling the whiskey in the drink. with a gag, you push the lid back on, putting the cup far away from you on your desk. a grimace paints your face as you try to swallow the flavour away, but the gross liquid feels coated down your throat.

"y/n!" Keeley exclaims, excitement painted on her face as if you hadn't been speaking just this morning, "what's wrong with your face?"

"Jamie put whiskey in my fucking hot chocolate." you whine, rolling your eyes again.

"oooh, lemme have a sip," she says, holding her palms together as a plea.

"I don't think he'll ever bring me an actual latte ever again," your lips pout as you slump back in your chair.

Keeley ignores your complaint, quickly scribbling down her name before saying: "your fitting appointment is tomorrow at 6:30 after work. let me know if you'd like me to join!"

"thank you so much Keeley but I don't want to take Rebecca's money just for a dress,"

"it's not just a dress, y/n, it's a gown." she presses.

Rebecca's heels click into the building as if on cue, and she smiles wide at the two of you as she approaches.

"Rebecca! please tell y/n you don't mind buying her a dress for the gala." Keeley sighs.

"I thought you just said it was a gown, not a dress." you tease, and she rolls her eyes at you in response.

"oh, don't be silly! of course I don't care – in fact, I actively want to. can't have my employees looking cheap, now can I?" Rebecca states in a cocky tone, picking up the pen and signing in.

you look at her with an grateful look; "thank you, Rebecca, seriously."

she shoots you a wink before saying: "don't worry about it. we need you looking good for Jamie, don't we?" you can't help but blush at her words, overwhelmed by the gracious gift.

"my hair stylist and the girl who does my makeup is coming over to mine after work on Friday, we should all get ready together!" Keeley says, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

"that sounds lovely!" you say.

"I'll be there." Rebecca adds.

Keeley squeals as she waves; "see you later, girls!"

Rebecca smiles at you with a nod before walking to her office, and your excitement for the gala has finally kicked in. you think to yourself; an event where everyone is dressed up to the nines, with music and an open bar? what could go wrong?

—

the next day, as you make yourself a latte in the staff room, you're surprised by two strong hands suddenly gripping your shoulders. two thumbs dig into your skin, massaging the taught muscles.

"Jesus woman, why are you so tense?" Jamie whispers in your ear, lips grazing your skin.

your eyes flutter as you struggle to keep them open, the pressure of his fingers instantly relaxing you. you smile to yourself, dropping your head back, leaning against his shoulder.

"I would be a lot more relaxed if my morning coffee wasn't such a fucking gamble every day," you joke, looking up at him through your eyelashes, "mouthwash, Jamie... really?"

Jamie chuckles to himself, smiling at his own prank. using his grip on your shoulders, he lifts you off his shoulder, spinning you around to face him. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you close to him. standing chest to chest, you can smell his cologne, woody and rich on your senses.

"you smell nice," you say absentmindedly, not thinking before speaking the thought out loud.

"ya think so? cheers, it's Tom Ford." he says with a cheeky wink, clearly bragging.

rolling your eyes, you cock your head to the side. when you look up at him again, his face holds an expression you haven't seen before. his pupils are blown wide and a small smile sits on his pouty lips.

"what?" you ask, a smile creeping onto your face too.

"nothin'" Jamie mumbles, and you can feel his thumbs rubbing up and down your sides. his eyes move to your lips, and you blush in response. nervously, you fill your cheeks with air and purse your lips as he stares at them. he chuckles at your funny face, quickly leaning down and pecking your lips. the kiss makes you drop the expression, and his eyes finally meet yours again. you raise your eyebrows and pull your head back, and his grin grows at your surprised eyes.

"what?" he says nonchalantly.

"nothin'" you say with a fake deep voice, mocking him.

as he laughs, Jamie moves one of the hands from your waist to your back, sliding it up your spine. when he gets to your hair, he wraps his fingers around the long strands and tugs lightly, tilting your chin up. your eyes threaten to close again, and your heartbeat quickens as Jamie's eyes darken.

"wanna kiss me properly Tartt?" you whisper, teasing him with a smile.

taking a few painfully long seconds to drag his eyes over every inch of your face, he eventually drops the hand from your hair. his other hand leaves your waist as he takes a step away from you. as he spins on his heel to leave he says: "you wish."

you tsk at him, rolling your eyes while shaking your head. turning to the beeping coffee machine, your mouth speaks before your brain thinks; "Jamie," you call after him, turning back around. he reappears in the doorway in merely a split second, hand resting on the doorframe as he looks at you with raised eyebrows. "I have to go buy a dress for the gala after work and I need a lift... would you mind coming with me?"

Jamie's eyebrows relax, but his eyes widen as he stares at you, blank expression on his face. you can't read what he's thinking, immediately regretting your question: "if you can't, that's fine, I just–".

"yes." he breathes, "yes, yeah, course I'll go with ya,"

you smile at him shyly, and his straight face turns into a smiling one as he mirrors you. you nod at him as a silent thanks, and he nods back before making his way back to training. taking your cup from the machine, you smile to yourself. as you pour a sugar packet into it, you shake your head, wondering how you got into this game with Jamie in the first place.

as the time approaches six o'clock, you wait impatiently for the Richmond team to sign out. as your colleagues say goodbye and sign their names, you politely smile and chat to them, and by the time the players make their way through the hallway, you're halfway out of your chair. standing up, you pick up your handbag and shove your things into it.

"you in a hurry, y/n?" Sam laughs.

"going on another date with Tartt?" Colin adds.

"leave the two love birds alone, bruv." Isaac says, picking up a pen and signing himself out. Sam takes the pen next and does the same before passing it to Colin.

from behind the large group of players all waiting to leave, Jamie appears in his regular clothes. wearing a blue hoodie with grey jeans, you admire how simple his outfit is.

"Hughes, sign me out there would ya?" Jamie calls, heading straight for the door. he brings the pendant of his gold chain to sit between his teeth as he grins at you, eyes lingering on your white top.

he cocks his head towards the door with a curt nod; "shall we?"

the players all erupt in teasing oohs and cheers at Jamie's shameless flirting, and the excitement makes you laugh. you step down from the desk, pushing your bag onto your shoulder. Jamie walks through the door ahead of you, holding it open for you to walk through. before you go, you turn back to the group of players and blow them a kiss, making them shout even louder, jumping up and down and slapping each other's shoulders. you cackle at the dramatics, following Jamie outside.

continuing your laughter as he leads you to his car you ask him: "are they always like this?"

"sadly," he pulls open the passenger side door for you, "yes."

you drop into the seat, the plush and expensive leather comfortable beneath you. as Jamie gets into the car, you look around. there's a football shaped air freshener hanging from the mirror, and there's a small rubber duck wearing a bow tie stuck to his dashboard. his gearshift has a bracelet wrapped around the base of it, colourful wooden beads with a small heart adding a pop of colour to the black leather interior.

"didn't think I could be so intrigued by car decor," you say, and Jamie chuckles shyly as he looks around at his car.

"yeah, it's just things me mum's given me... for good luck, ya'know." the look he gives you is sincere, and you smile at the sentiment of it all.

"that's really sweet, Jamie."

he dips his head down and smiles, and you're sure you spot a blush cover his face. turning the keys in the cognition, his BMW roars to life, and you both buckle your seatbelts. you tap the address into the car's gps, grateful Keeley texted it to you without you even having to ask. as he drives out of the car park's gates, Jamie asks: "if you need a lift to this shop, how did you get to work?"

"I usually walk to work, but Isaac gave me a spontaneous lift yesterday and then picked me up again this morning," you explain, looking at the side of his face as his eyes stay fixed on the road. you watch his face morph into a confused pout.

"you walk to work?"

"yeah?"

"why?"

"what the fuck?!" you exclaim, throwing your hands in the air in frustration.

"what?!" Jamie yells back, matching your tone.

you groan, dropping your head into your hands before raking your fingers through your hair, "nothing, sorry, that's just the third time someone's asked me that."

"it's a bit weird, to be fair," Jamie shrugs.

"what? no it isn't! I swear you're all such snobs," you joke, "it's a good way to get your steps in,"

Jamie snorts, and your head snaps to the side to look at him again.

"you're such a loser," he says, shaking his head.

"as if! my phone tracks them and then I get little messages every time I do 1000 steps," you explain proudly. Jamie says nothing else, just smiles before glancing at the screen showing the directions.

the two of you sit in a comfortable silence as you watch other cars go by. sitting in Jamie's car, you can almost feel how expensive it was just by the way it glides so smoothly across the road. you try to spot similar cars at stop lights and crossroads, but somehow Jamie seems to be the only one with this fancy of a car.

"y/n?" his soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

"mhm?" you hum, looking to him.

he doesn't as much as glimpse at you, keeping his eyes forward; "how come Isaac gave you a lift?" his voice is quiet and shy when he asks. with an amused smile, you stare at him, wondering if you've imagined his reserved tone.

"Jamie?" you start, "are you... jealous?"

"pfft, what? no, why would I be?" he sputters.

"are you serious?" you ask with a giggle, and his silence speaks volumes. "Jamie..." you sigh, "the only reason Isaac gave me a lift yesterday was because he saw me walking and offered me one. this morning, he passed me again, so he stopped. it's polite to accept and, to be completely honest, I just wanted to sit in a sports car." you shrug, reassuring him.

he exhales and nods, trying to disguise his worry as a joke when he forces a chuckle; "oh, right, yeah,"

you lean closer to him, leaning your chin on his shoulder. finally, he glances down at you, smiling softly. "don't worry, Jamie. from now on, I'll only take lifts from you in your sports car."

he rolls his eyes but can't help but huff a small laugh, and you smile up at him, biting your lip. "can I turn on some music?" you ask sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes at him dramatically.

"go on then."

you squeal in excitement as you tap the screen on his dashboard, admiring the high-tech of it all. connecting your phone to his car, you press play on one of your playlists. soft music falls from the speakers, and you don't think you've ever heard your favourite songs in such good quality before. pressing a hand to the speaker on your door, you close your eyes, feeling the vibrations of the music. you fall back against the head rest, completely relaxing into Jamie's presence. he doesn't speak, letting you feel the sound in peace.

humming along to the song playing, you smile to yourself. you feel like you're floating as the car drives smoothly over the roads to the boutique. Jamie's a surprisingly gentle driver, never hitting his brake too hard and not swerving around bends. dropping your hand from the speaker, you start picking up on the sound of Jamie's movements. his breathing is steady, and you can hear him absentmindedly sigh every so often. you hear his hands run over the steering wheel when he takes a turn, and the sound soothes you. driving with Jamie makes him feel so human. usually only seeing him in the context of football, you feel like you know athlete Jamie more than person Jamie, despite your date last weekend. the date was amazing, and you learnt so much about him, but sitting in silence with him is a big difference to your usual constant banter.

after the car drives over a bump, you feel the car slow to a halt and the music stop, presuming you've arrived.

"y/n?" Jamie whispers gently, and you've never heard his voice so quiet. the other times he's whispered to you it was definitely not this sweet and soft, and the sound warms your heart.

when you turn your head towards him and open your eyes, he's unexpectedly close to you. with his elbow on the armrest between you, Jamie holds himself a few inches away from you. his gaze softens when you look at him, your eyes wide and amused.

"we're here," he whispers in the same gentle tone, nodding his head towards the windshield. your eyes don't leave each other's as you breathe in deeply. the smell of his cologne fills your sense again, now mixed with fresh conditioner and a slight hint of lavender. you yearn to be closer to him, and you have to fight the urge to wrap an arm around his neck and pull him into you.

instead, you let your eyes drop to his lips before quickly looking away, staring out the window at the shop in front of you. you feel Jamie's eyes on you for a few more seconds before he peels them off of your face, looking down at his hands awkwardly. facing him again, you smile nervously before leaning over the center console and pressing a quick kiss to his soft cheek. his head snaps up at the feeling and when he turns to you, he's blushing a deep pink.

"let's go then," you say, sighing and picking up your bag from between your legs, placing it on your lap. Jamie jumps out of the car, rushing over to the passenger side to open your door for you. one hand holding the door out of your way, his other hand reaches out for you to take. you place your hand in his, and he helps you stand up from the car – not that you need it, but you'll never say to no to some princess treatment.

"thank you, Jamie." you smiled at him.

"you're welcome, y/n." he says as he closes the car door behind you.

you approach the small shop, stopping by its window to admire some of the dresses on display; "oh my goodness," you breathe, "these are gorgeous!" your excitement doubles as you look back at Jamie.

his eyes are fixed on you as he breathes: "yeah... gorgeous,"

your heart rate speeds up suddenly, noticing the way his pupils are wide again, just like in the staff room earlier. your mouth opens, desperately trying to breathe in more air, but you get lost in his gaze. he definitely isn't talking about the dresses.

you swallow and try to snap out of it; "okay, Jamie, I'll see you tomorrow."

"what?" he says quickly, expression faltering and you can almost see his heart break in his face. you furrow your brows and repeat after him; "what?"

he stands up straight, suddenly acting uncharacteristically awkward as he fidgets with his car keys. attempting nonchalance, he shakes his head and looks away from you.

"I mean, I just thought I'd go in with you, ya'know... you might need a second opinion or something," he says quickly, scratching the back of his neck while he looks anywhere but at you.

you chuckle at his silly sheepishness, saying nothing before reaching out for his hand, taking it in yours. a blush appears on your face, and you turn and pull him into the boutique with you.

"good evening!" a squeaky voice chirps, and you can't see the person it came from. your hand still clutches Jamie's, and he holds yours tighter as you both look around. you're overwhelmed by the amount of gowns strung along racks against each wall, and your mouth hangs open as you run your free hand along the fabrics.

"phew! sorry about that, I'm here!" the voice speaks again, and when you turn around, a small blonde woman appears from behind an equally small counter.

"hiya," you speak politely, "uhm, my name is y/n. I think my friend Keeley made an appointment for me."

"ah! Keeley Jones! she's one amazing firecracker, isn't she?" the woman says with a smile, "now, where are my glasses?" she thinks to herself. her curly blonde hair is half pinned up, and her bright red glasses sit on top of her head. you're not sure whether to say something or not, watching her pick up and move stacks of paper on the counter as she searches. Jamie squeezes your hand, and you turn around to look at him. he lifts his pointer finger to his mouth and shakes his head, smiling at you. you smile up at him, taking note of what he means, but decide to do the right thing.

"sorry, I think they're on your head?" you say as politely as possible.

"oh! thank you, darling." she smiles at you before reaching out a hand and introducing herself; "I'm Sarah, it's so lovely to meet you, y/n,"

you drop Jamie's hand to shake Sarah's, which makes her notice his presence.

"and you are?" she asks, holding a hand out for him too.

"I'm Jamie," he smiles, shaking her hand with his right and covering the back of her hand with his left.

"such a sweet thing," Sarah smiles, "you're a lucky girl." she says, looking at you.

Jamie turns to you, letting go of her hand, raising his eyebrows at you with a teasing grin. you roll your eyes at him, ignoring Sarah's comment.

"right–", she says, pushing her glasses back into her hair and moving across the boutique towards a rack of dresses, "what are you looking for today?"

"well, I'm going to this big fancy gala on Friday and I need–"

"something blue." Jamie interrupts, hands politely held behind his back as he smiles at Sarah, avoiding your confused face.

"perfect! let me take some measurements and I'll get you set up. follow me, love. Jamie, you can wait here, take a seat." Sarah's excited, and completely oblivious to your surprise at Jamie's words, as she leads you through a curtain at the back of the shop. you glance back at Jamie over your shoulder, and he winks at you as he sits down on a velvet purple sofa.

the room you walk in is small, but tidy and chic. there's a large mirror covering one of the walls, and the carpet is white and shaggy. it seems to be one big dressing room, and it looks completely different to where Jamie is waiting for you. there's an iced window opposite you, allowing for natural light to flood the cream walls.

"he said something blue, is that right?" Sarah asks, handing you some kind of unitard which matches your skin tone.

"uhm, I guess, yeah," you say, agreeing to Jamie's suggestion. you're not sure why he said it, but it gives you more inspiration than you had when you arrived to the boutique.

"okay, darling. go slip on this little bodysuit behind the curtain over there and I'll be back to measure you whenever you're ready." Sarah smiles politely, guiding you towards a small but tall booth in the corner of the room.

once you've changed, wearing nothing but the skin tight playsuit, you call for Sarah. the carpet is soft under your bare feet as you admire yourself in the mirror. you run your fingers through your hair, adding some volume into it as you smile at your reflection. soon after, Sarah pushes a rack of dresses into the room.

"you haven't even measured me yet?" you laugh at the amount of fabric hiding her small frame.

"don't worry, angel, I've got a good eye for this stuff," she says with a strained voice, struggling to push the wheels over the carpet. you rush over to help her, pulling the opposite side further into the room. there's a variety of different shades of blue and fabrics on the rack; there's silk, satin, and chiffon, and you admire the way some of the rhinestones sparkle under the light.

"these are beautiful, woah..." you say, looking through the dresses.

"we have plenty of time to play dress-up later! let's get you measured," Sarah says, slipping on her glasses and taking the measuring tape from around her neck.

as you move to stand on a small platform in front of the mirror, music starts playing from the shop's speakers. you instantly recognise it as one of the songs you played in the car ride with Jamie. you blush, chuckling to yourself.

"did Jamie turn this music on?" you ask, looking at Sarah in the mirror.

"he did," she says, quickly scribbling down the length of your leg into her notebook, "he asked if he could connect his phone. he's a very nice man, very charming,"

you huff, a smile creeping up your face, "hmpf, isn't he?"

"how long have you two been together?" she asks you absentmindedly. the question makes you shake your head and sputter out your words; "oh, no, no, we're not together,"

"really?" she asks, "I thought I saw you two holding hands when you walked in,"

"it's complicated," you explain vaguely.

"oh sweetheart, there's nothing complicated about the way he looks at you," Sarah says quietly, and her statement stuns you, "he helped me choose these dresses for you by the way, I already know his favourite one."

not sure how to process her words, you turn your head to the rack of dresses, trying to guess which one he likes the most. your chest grows warm at the thought of Jamie's waiting for you in the next room, listening to a song you like, picking out dresses for you. with a blush on your face, you start to realise what Isaac meant; Jamie can be exceptionally kind.

"all done, my love! now, pick whichever ones you want to try on and if they need any tailoring, I can get that done for you before Friday." Sarah brushes strands of hair out of her face, standing up straight and pointing to the rack of gowns.

you look at her with kind eyes and smile; "thank you, Sarah,"

"now, I'll be just out there taking care of your friend, but just gimme a shout if you need help with a zip or anything." she winks at you before heading through the curtain into the boutique.

you take a deep breath, trying to focus on the sound of the music playing through the room. either Jamie has exceptionally good taste, or he's found your spotify account and has turned on the same playlist you played in his car.

trying on a navy dress, you spin around in the mirror. nice bodice, but ugly tule sleeves. you take a turquoise gown from the rack, deciding against it before even trying it on simply due to its big frilly skirt. next, you pull out a dress the brightest shade of blue, and try it on for fun, just to see Jamie's reaction. you pull aside the curtain into the shop before stepping through.

Jamie's hands fly to his mouth, biting back a laugh. you do the same, rolling your lips into your mouth to avoid a cackle from escaping. the dress is made of polyester, and is covered in sheer tule with big plastic diamonds.

"oh... babe," Sarah says awkwardly, grimacing.

"Jamie?" you say, still holding back a laugh.

"you look... absolutely stunnin'" he forces, face morphing into an almost painful expression.

a few beats of silence pass, before the three of you burst into loud and boisterous laughter. Jamie clutches his stomach in laughter, while Sarah covers her mouth the hide her amusement. you stop your laughing and pretend to look offended; "what? you don't like it?" you smile at Jamie. he digs his phone out of his pocket before holding it up proudly.

"go on, do a twirl," he says, filming you as you do what he asks. you laugh at the antics, holding up the skirt and curtsying. you blow a kiss to his camera and close your eyes, smiling sweetly.

"fuckin' beautiful," Jamie mutters, and he sounds more sincere than the jokey tone he had used before. you pretend you didn't hear it, taking a dramatic bow before disappearing into the changing room again.

laughing to yourself, you tug off the dress, appreciating the little ribbons Sarah has tied onto each dress' zip, allowing you to easily reach back and pull it down yourself. you take your time trying on three more dresses, and as much as you look like a princess, you don't feel like one just yet.

the final dress on the rack is a sequined baby blue one, and you're unsure of its boldness before you even put it on. you take it off the hanger, undoing the zip and stepping into it. pulling the skinny pink spaghetti straps over your shoulders, you feel the soft inner lining of the dress tickle your legs. all the dresses you had tried on were floor length, but this one falls three quarters down your legs, ending a few inches above your ankles.

reaching back, your hand searches for the ribbon in order to zip up the dress, but you can't seem to find it. turning around in the mirror, you stretch your neck to see it's missing.

"fuck," you whisper to yourself, desperately trying to fold your arm back and zip it up, but to no avail.

"Sarah?" you call, but she doesn't answer.

"eh, she's gone upstairs to her workshop for a minute. is everythin' alright?" Jamie replies. you hang your head, taking in a deep breath.

"could you come help me zip up my dress please?" you say, eyes to the ceiling as you dread Jamie's entrance. a knot grows in your stomach; you wanted Jamie to see the dress on Friday, after getting all dolled up, not when you're barefoot in a dressing room with your hair messy.

"yeah, sure, of course," he mutters, his voice coming closer through the curtain. pushing it open, he covers his eyes with his hand; "you decent?"

"yes, Jamie, just come in." you sigh, hand clutching the back of the dress as you stand on your tippy toes, mimicking the effect your heels will have on the outfit.

"alright, alright, just–" Jamie stops mid sentence. you look over at him, and his face bares a look of pure admiration. his pouty lips are parted, eyes wide and glossy under the light. eyebrows raised, his arms hang limp by his sides, and his chest rises and falls noticeably with his shallow breaths.

you don't speak, your face holding an embarrassed expression as you turn your back towards Jamie; "please," you squeak quietly.

he inhales a shaky breath before saying: "yeah, sorry, yeah,"

avoiding looking at him, you wait impatiently for the feeling of his body behind you. you hear his uneven breaths first as he stands behind you. fully aware he's blushing, you can't help but wish you had turned to the mirror, then you could at least see his expression as his hands carefully clutch the bottom of the zip, right above your ass. seeing the red tint on his face would make you feel a lot better about your half-assed appearance. his fingers brush the arch of your back as he pulls the zip up the length of your back, as his other hand rests on your waist. when he nears the top, his hand leaves your waist to brush your hair over your shoulder and out of the way. as the dress tightens around you, one of the straps slip from your shoulder.

as soon as the dress is secured, you turn towards the mirror again, lifting yourself onto your toes. the shiny fabric hugs your frame tightly, accentuating the curve of your hips and pushing up your chest ever so slightly. you hear Jamie gulp, and your eyes move to look at him in the reflection of the mirror. his eyes don't meet yours, however, as they're glued to your back and shoulders. he carries his gaze across your shoulder blades, slowly lifting a hand to your arm, gently sliding the thin strap up to your shoulder again. his breathing still sounds heavy in your ear, and his fingers linger on the exposed nape of your neck.

Jamie finally lets his eyes glance up to meet yours, and your breath hitches in your throat. his eyes are dark, not with lust or intoxication the way you've seen before, but with something else – something indecipherable. he holds your eye contact while his fingers continue their path over your skin. he brings them down to your shoulder before dragging them back up to your neck. trailing them down your spine, he follows the shape of your shoulder blades, drawing absentminded shapes on them. goosebumps appear on your skin, and you bring your hands up your torso nervously. the slight scratch of the sequins on your palms grounds you, and your eyes trail over your body. Jamie settles both hands on your waist again, and you drag your hands up over your stomach, to your ribcage, before sliding over your chest. you bring them back down, fingers smoothing the sparkles on your thighs.

when your eyes flick up to look at Jamie, you're surprised to see him staring at your eyes already. his cheeks are flushed, but he's managed to close his mouth for the first time since he opened the dressing room curtain. his hands drop from your waist, and he reaches up to bring your hair back off your shoulder before taking a step away from you. Jamie's eyes are sincere as he finally speaks: "y/n..."

"mhm?" you hum, turning to the side to admire the back of the dress in the tall mirror.

"I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you in my entire life." he says firmly, face unwavering as he looks you dead in the eye in the mirror.

you soften at his words, sighing as you tilt your head. he flashes you a small smile as you stare at his reflection. looking at you sheepishly, it's almost like he doesn't know the words he just spoke went straight to your heart – as if the look in his eyes didn't scream love.

turning around quickly, your breath is shallow as you hold his eye contact. his eyes drop to your lips and yours do the same, and soon enough you're stepping closer to him. peering up at him through your eyelashes, your eyes stay wide, and he looks at you expectantly. his eyes flick down to glance at your lips once more, but this time, your eyes stay fixed on his. the longer you stare at him, the more you feel your eyes gloss over. the sweet smile on his face doesn't fall, and you shake your head as you finally grin back.

standing up on your tippy toes, you throw your arms around his neck and hold him tightly. his strong arms wrap around your waist, placing one of his palms flat on the middle of your back. you sigh as you press your face into his neck, and you hear him exhale deeply as he holds you impossibly closer.

you breathe in his skin, feeling his hair tickle your cheek. Jamie groans into your neck, squeezing you so tight your feet lift an inch off the ground. you giggle into his neck, lifting your head up and back to look at him. he moves his head off your shoulder too, keeping your feet off the ground.

"is this your favourite dress then?" you tease him with a smile.

"definitely." he nods his head eagerly, eyes focused on your mouth. you bite your lip nervously, the way you always do when you notice him staring at them.

"what?" you ask sweetly, moving your head to the side in an attempt to get him to look you in the eye again.

"will you be my date to the gala?" he says quickly, eyes back on yours. his face breaks out in a large grin as you raise your eyebrows at him.

you look up, as if deep in thought, before furrowing your brows and pouting; "uuuhm... no." you state. Jamie's happy face immediately drops into a pouty, confused expression.

before he can contest your answer, you quickly peck his frowning lips, taking him aback all over again. kicking your feet, you laugh out loud; "okay, put me down now. I need to go pay for this dress."

—

looking at your reflection in Keeley's vanity mirror, you absolutely adore who's staring back at you. your hair is curled to perfection, pinned up in the classier version of a messy bun. loose strands frame your face and make the hairstyle look naturally effortless, despite it having taken 40 minutes to perfect. your eyelids sparkle with a slight dusty pink colour. skin looking filter smooth, you admire the way the light bounces off your cheekbones after Keeley's makeup artist fanned some highlighter on them.

she's behind you on the pink sofa, painting her toe nails, whilst Rebecca is next to her on her phone. you had agreed to all get ready together but Rebecca, picky as ever, arrived completely dressed up, having already had her stylist get her ready.

leaning close to the mirror, you screw open your shiny pink lip gloss before lathering it on your lips. you pop them together before puckering them in the mirror, making a kissy noise. Keeley laughs at the sound, and when you turn around, a mischievous grin grows on her face; "look at you with your lip gloss! Jamie and y/n sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"

the three of you share a big laugh as you stand up from the chair, the pink robe Keeley lent you keeping you cosy as you get ready.

"okay, time for my dress!" you sing, and Keeley squeals.

"I can't wait to see it," Rebecca says sweetly. you tilt your head, looking at her with kind eyes;

"thanks again, Rebecca, I don't think I can ever repay you for this favour,"

"shut up and get dressed!" Rebecca shouts, waving a hand to dismiss you.

"aah! okay!" you shout back, running into Keeley's bedroom, dress bag folded over your arm.

putting it on is easier this time, having tied your own ribbon onto the zip. you look at your reflection in the bedroom mirror, and you can't believe this is you. the dress fits you like a glove, and is still the most comfortable thing you've ever worn. the fabric is flowy around your legs, and tightens to hug your body around your hips. your pinned up hair shows off your clavicle, and the framing front pieces make your face look chiseled as ever. sitting on the bed, you slip your feet into your light pink heels, the platform pumps adding an extra two inches to your height. as you buckle them up, you can finally say you truly do feel like a princess.

"ready?" you call, cracking open the door out of the bedroom.

"yes!" Keeley and Rebecca both say at the same time, excitement evident in their voices.

you step out of the room, letting out a deep breath. there's no reason to be, but you're nervous. you hold your head up, imagining Jamie sitting in that room, and you're suddenly filled with a newfound confidence. taking long strides, you walk into the next room. stepping in front of Keeley and Rebecca, you smile wide. both of them are dead silent, staring at you with blank expressions. you do a twirl, hoping to pull a reaction from them, but when you face them again, you still get nothing. smile slowly fading, your brows furrow.

"is there something wrong?" you say, holding out your hands in confusion.

Keeley and Rebecca shake their heads in sync, and the latter finally speaks up; "not at all, y/n, wow,"

"Jamie-" Keeley starts, life re-entering her eyes, "is... going to..." she jumps up in the air as she screams "DIE!"

she runs over to you and hugs you as you cackle at their theatrics; "you look fucking amazing!" Keeley squeals.

you look at Rebecca as you squeeze Keeley's arm, and the smile she gives you feels warm and sincere. she doesn't need to tell you what she thinks, you can read it in her face. you mouth the words 'thank you' to her one last time, and she blows you a kiss.

"let's get going!" letting go of you, Keeley runs to the mirror to quickly check her makeup. you move towards the sofa, picking up your clutch bag and slipping your phone and lip gloss into it. Rebecca stands up, brushing down her outfit. her red dress highlights her long legs, and her pinned up hair makes her look even taller than she is. turning your back to her, she kindly helps you take the ribbon off your zip. Keeley's hair cascades over her shoulder in waves, and her black corset fits perfectly over a big pink silk skirt.

"we look so good," you turn to them, smiling wide before heading for the front door.

you all slip into the back of the slick black limousine Rebecca organised for the three of you, and you waste no time in popping open the complimentary champagne.

each of you have a flute in hand as you sing along to the music playing. Keeley holds up her phone to take selfies and pictures of all of you, together as well as posing on your own. laughing and cheering, you hype each other up as you show the camera your best faces. three champagne flutes down and your cheeks feel hot, the alcohol rushing through your veins.

"oh by the way, y/n, you'll be sitting at a table with me and Keeley tonight." Rebecca smiles as she takes a sip of her drink. your eyebrows arch in surprise, and you mirror her as you bring the glass flute to your lips.

"yeah, we didn't want you sitting with random staff," Keeley adds.

"I'm surprised you didn't put me at a table with Jamie," you say.

Rebecca wags her pointer finger at you; "hm, no, see that wouldn't really be playing the game, would it?"

"if you're sitting at the same table, there's no longing, no yearning, no sexual tension!" Keeley explains, grunting the last words as she balls her fists in front of her and shakes them.

"exactly!" Rebecca continues, "our table is in front of his, which means that each time he looks at the stage, his eyes have to pass you, which they obviously won't and he'll probably sit there all night staring at you until you notice him" she states matter of factly.

"you guys..." you drawl, "this is so lovely, but at this point I'll just want jump his bones the minute I see him. I've been holding off for so long!"

"I promise it's worth it... believe me, it's all about the wait." Keeley says, placing a firm hand on your knee and squeezing it in reassurance. "Rebecca knows all about it," she continues, "she's put Sam behind us as well, at the same table as Jamie."

gasping at her, you let out a small scream; "Rebecca! you're going to try pick things up with him again?!" she rolls her eyes at you and Keeley, but still smirks slyly. the three of you holler and laugh, drowning out the music with your noise. your stomach twists in nerves and excitement, not at all knowing what to expect from tonight. whatever happens, you have to try to resist the one thing you've been thinking about for weeks; let's see how hard he's going to make that.

—

the limousine finally comes to a halt at the Richmond Theatre, and the flashing cameras already catch your eye. the driver steps out, walking over and opening the car door for you, Keeley, and Rebecca. one by one, you exit the stretch, giving each other hands to help the other up.

the red carpet is rolled out from the end of the stoop, all the way up over the stairs into the venue. there's a backdrop set up for photographs displaying an array of sponsors including bantr and KBPR. Sam and Isaac pose in front of the cameras, standing a few feet from one another.

"Jerry! Dave! it's so good to see you guys again! make sure to get my good side this year," Sam points at the group of photographers, choosing for a simple wide smile. Isaac on the other hand, has his hands together in a prayer pose, face emotionless. "don't forget the shoes," Isaac says to the cameras, "make sure you get the shoes, bruv." he reiterates bluntly, pointing a finger down at the ground.

shaking your head, you laugh at their antics. looking at the people around you, you can't help but think about Jamie; is he inside already? what is he wearing? will he still like your dress? oh my God what if he doesn't show up just because you said no to being his date-

"y/n, it's your turn babe," Keeley whispers in your ear, and she places a hand on your back to guide you onto the red carpet. eyes widening in panic, you turn to grab her hand; "Keeley, I have no idea what to do, please come with me,"

she giggles, running in front of the photographers, still holding your hand. she flicks her hair aside, placing a hand on her hip and smiling wide. through her teeth she tells you: "just copy me, you're gorgeous."

as the two of you stand and pose together, Rebecca steps onto the carpet at its far end, smiling on her own. you reach over, taking her hand and pulling her between you and Keeley, and the three of you laugh and pose together in front of the cameras. slowly but surely, you get more comfortable, stepping aside to get a few photos on your own. Dani, Colin, and a number of other Richmond players stand next to the photographers, whistling and whooping in encouragement. your laugh is big and genuine as the cameras continue to flash, and the adrenaline running through your veins reignites the excitement you've had all week.

"thank you!" you say to the photographers as an event organiser beckons you off the carpet. she leads you, Rebecca, and Keeley towards the steps into the theatre. the three of you laugh at the rush caused by the attention of the cameras, and your words are filled with disbelief; "I've never done anything like that before! that was so much fucking fun!"

"I know right?!" Keeley cackles.

"ladies, I have to go in and sort some things so I'm going to go ahead. I'll see you at the table," Rebecca speaks quickly, blowing a kiss before rushing off.

"she's so sexy when she's all in charge and shit," Keeley says, watching as Rebecca struts up the rest of the stairs and into the venue. she turns to face you, looking you up and down. with an inquisitive expression, she reaches her hands up and twists your necklace around, hiding the clasp behind your neck.

"perfect," she says, "how do I look?"

"absolutely amazing," you reply to her, pulling some fluff from her lace corset.

"let's fucking do this," Keeley says with a determined expression, and the two of you hold hands again as you walk up the stairs. at the door, a server holds a silver platter with champagne flutes filled to the brim. Keeley immediately drops your hand, taking one glass in each hand. you struggle holding back a laugh as you take one for yourself, thanking the server quietly.

approaching the double doors into the theatre, you reach out your free hand to pull the handle, holding it open for Keeley. "thanks, babe," she says, taking a quick sip of her drink. the second she enters, she squeals "Barbara!" and rushes over to her friend nearby.

left to fend for yourself, you blink and widen your eyes at the sheer size of the ballroom. at the far end is a large stage, and the walls are covered in red velvet. you look up at the ginormous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and the chatter from the large amount of guests bounces against all sides of the room. you can't discern any of the voices despite recognising almost every face. everyone is dressed up to the Gods, mingling and chatting in small groups. some people are sitting at their tables, whilst some are simply standing around.

you spot Ted and Beard talking to Trent Crimm to your left, and as you're about to move towards them to say hello, a recognisable voice finally breaks through your thoughts; "holy fuck."

snapping your head towards the sound of the voice, your eyes immediately notice Jamie standing next to the bar to your right. he stands up straight when your eyes meet, sliding his elbow from the counter and placing down his beer bottle.

your jaw slacks as you move your eyes down his body, noticing his suit. it's a smooth navy, tailored to fit him perfectly. his signet ring shines beneath the bright lights, and his tattoos peek out from under his sleeve. the tie he's wearing has a light blue pattern you can't quite make out from your distance, but when your eyes drift to his suit jacket, your mouth snaps closed.

Jamie's eyes are wider than you've ever seen them, and he doesn't seem to blink at all as you walk over to him. you stand close to him, nostrils flaring as you clench your jaw; "Jamie," you say flatly, trying to keep your breathing steady, "what the fuck is that?" you tuck your clutch under your arm, moving your hand up to his chest and poking a finger against the pocket of his jacket.

his mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words come out. avoiding your eyes, he frowns his lips and shrugs; "what's... what?"

you tsk at him, moving your head to the side in an attempt to catch his gaze again. your finger digs into his chest harder, finally making him look at you as he pulls away in pain.

"ow, what was that for?"

"where did you get that pocket square?" you ask, making your question clear. you glance down at the sequinned blue fabric folded in his pocket, and your ears start ringing as your heart rate increases rapidly.

"Sarah made it for me to match your dress," Jamie admits sheepishly, shoulders slumping as he looks down at his fidgeting hands.

"come with me." you say, turning around and walking across the ballroom. Jamie follows you like a lost puppy as you walk past the other guests. "hey guys, I'll see you in a bit!" you chirp as you pass the coaches and their resident writer. they wave at you and Jamie with confused faces, but you ignore them. pushing through another set of double doors, you walk into a hallway.

looking side to side, you spot what you're looking for down the hallway and on the left. you don't look behind you, sure Jamie is right there, as you strut past another bar and some couched booths. stopping to chug your champagne, you discard the glass one of the tables. when you finally reach the door labelled 'ladies, you push open the door, hoping nobody's inside.

Jamie's suddenly stops as you head into the bathroom, brows furrowed, and you roll your eyes before pulling him in with you. when you walk in, you thank God there's no one in there to see you drag in the man trailing behind you. pushing open the first stall you see, you yank Jamie's arm to pull him inside.

you drop his hand, pressing your hands against his chest and pushing his back into the door, making it shut. you waste no time in slotting your feet between his and leaning forward, connecting your lips together. his hands find your waist as he realises what's happening. your clutch drops to the floor and you grab his biceps, keeping yourself steady.

hunger sets into you as you kiss him deeply, already panting as you messily move your lips against each other. your tongue slips into his mouth with ease as your hand reaches for his hair, grabbing a handful and tugging it. he groans into your mouth as his hands move up your back, holding you impossibly closer. you struggle to suppress the moan in the back of your throat as his tongue dips into your mouth, and your knees buckle at the feeling. Jamie uses this as his chance to spin you around, pressing your back against the cold door and quickly locking it without even having to look. with one hand placed firmly on the arch of your back, the other comes up to your face, tilting your jaw up as he kisses you even harder. your heads move side to side quickly, not once pulling away for breath as you move against each other vigorously. your fingers are still tangled in his hair whilst your other hand grips his arm tight, feeling the way the muscle flexes as he holds your body against his.

your mind goes completely blank, and your senses heighten as Jamie feels warm - no - hot. your heart hammers against your chest as you feel yourself start to sweat, your shared body heat starting to become overwhelming as your ears ring. all you can see, feel, and smell is Jamie; his cologne, his cold rings, his smooth skin on yours. both of your lips are sticky with lipgloss, and the noises your mouths make together make you blush. Jamie slides his hand from your face to your neck, running his thumb down your throat as he continues to tangle your tongues together. the touch pulls a low whine from your throat, and you completely lose the strength to hold yourself up.

your hand leaves his hair and quickly finds his tie, wrapping it around your fist and tugging it. you use the leverage to pull your back from the door before pressing the same hand into his chest.

Jamie reluctantly pulls his lips off of yours as you push against him. you're both breathless, panting with open mouths as you stare at each other. his pupils are dark and blown wide, breathing jagged, and his lips are even more plump than usual. yours feel equally as swollen, cheeks hot and hair messy.

without a word, you bend down, picking up your long discarded purse from the floor. turning your back to Jamie, you unlock the stall door and walk towards the sinks. dropping your purse on top of the marble, you run cold water over your hands in an attempt to cool yourself down before digging through your clutch. pulling out a bobby pin, you fix a rogue strand of hair which has fallen out of your updo. as you do so, Jamie appears from the stall, hair no longer messy. he catches your eyes in the mirror and smirks at you. as he passes you by, he brings his palm up to slap your ass, making your disheveled expression form into a smile.

you watch his back as he leaves the bathroom, and the fact he doesn't turn to glance at you makes you part your lips and huff, impressed by his sudden composure. turning back to the mirror, you stare at yourself. your cheeks are flushed, lips red and swollen, and your legs shake beneath you. holding the sink for support, you lean forward, fanning your face with your hand in an attempt to cool your skin. the door squeaks open, and you quickly stand up straight and pretend to fix the hair around your face.

a brunette woman you don't recognise walks in, and you send her a polite smile through the mirror's reflection. "having a good night are we?" she grins knowingly, scrunching up her nose and raising her eyebrows. you let out a surprised cackle, quickly shaking your head and shrugging; "just fixing my makeup, you know how it goes."

"right..." she drawls, winking at you before she disappears into a stall. you sigh out a breath, glad it wasn't Keeley or Rebecca walking in on you, even though they would probably have a few tips to make yourself look less sloppy after you and Jamie's heated make out.

sure, you weren't exactly playing the game of tension they were talking about, but your kiss with Jamie was worth every second. you wouldn't have lasted flirting with him all evening without knowing what he tasted like. the feeling of his lips on yours, hands pressed against your back while you clawed at his hair, is going to replay in your mind all evening, and you hope you won't be going home alone.

pulling your lipgloss from your bag, you quickly dab some more on your still-puffy lips. hoping all traces of Jamie are gone, you clip your clutch closed and head for the door. as you push through into the hallway, the loud chatter of the event reverberates through the walls, and adrenaline sets in again. you decide against returning to the ballroom just yet, walking down the hallway and to the small bar at the end of it.

"y/n!" Sam beams as you meet him at the bar. you get the attention of the bartender.

"I'll try the peachy keen, please," turning to face Sam you say: "how are you, Samuel?"

"I'm doing good, what about you?" he laughs at your use of his full name.

"hungry! I'm so excited for the meal and the auction and everything," you say, accepting your cocktail from the bartender with a "thank you so much."

"ah, really? are you going to bid on Jamie?" Sam asks with a grin.

"ha!" you cackle, "Jamie wishes I'd bid on him! but... I don't really think I can afford the auction anyways. Keeley said it goes into the tens of thousands!"

"I think Jamie would do it for free if it was you bidding on him, he's obsessed with you." Sam takes a sip of his drink, and you arch your eyebrows; "really?" you ask.

"oh yes, for sure... but I don't think I need to tell you that," he says with a smirk on his face.

"what do you mean?" you shrug nervously, already picturing Jamie's dark eyes when you pulled away from him in the bathroom stall. you bring your sweet drink to your lips in attempt to distract yourself.

"well, I saw him stumble out of the women's restrooms a few minutes ago. he's not very good at hiding his certain excitement, if you know what I mean,"

Sam's words take you aback, and you snort into your drink and cough as you place the glass down. you wipe the splatters from your face and look up at him with a shocked look.

he continues, the smirk on his face growing even more devilish; "and then I see you walking out of the same bathroom a few minutes later... which makes me think that maybe... you were in there together?"

you inhale deeply, raising you eyebrows and smiling at him. picking up your glass from the bar, you turn to walk away. "I will speak to you later, Sam. enjoy your meal." you say politely, and he laughs at you as you turn and head through the doors and back into the large ballroom.

contrary to when you arrived, the carpeted room is now bustling with people. you stand still in front of the door, stunned by the crowds. you can hear the familiar laughter and shouts of the Richmond players, but you can't see them. you look over to the stage to see Rebecca standing beside it, nervously discussing something with Higgins. glancing back towards the bar you had previously found Jamie at, his place is now taken by Roy and Keeley as they stand close together. her hand holds his arms as he looks down at her lovingly, a content smile resting on his face. you smile at their interaction, the gentle side of both of them is a rare sight at work, and it's as if they're all alone in this room full of people.

"excuse me ladies and gentlemen," Rebecca's voice sounds through speakers around the room. chatter dies down as everyone turns their attention to the stage, where Rebecca is standing behind a microphone.

"thank you so very much for coming," she pauses as the chatter dies down quickly, "dinner is going to be served soon, so if everybody could please find their seats, that would be delightful." everyone applauds Rebecca as she smiles and walks off the stage. you beeline towards her, awkwardly smiling at people as you push past them. standing next to the stage, Rebecca is flattening non-existent creases in her dress as she now talks to Ted.

"it's gonna be amazing, boss, don't you worry!" you hear Ted chirp as you approach the two. sensing your presence, Rebecca turns her head and smiles at you.

"oh, y/n, thank goodness you're here." she breathes.

your face contorts into a puzzled look as you glance at Ted whose face is still in his classic closed mouth smile; "we arrived together," you chuckle to yourself, and her face of realisation makes the three of you laugh. "let's go find our seats." you say, and you look back to Ted, "will you be sitting with us, coach?"

the three of you move towards the tables, and Rebecca guides you to table nine, smack down in the middle of the ballroom.

"that's right! I can't wait to tell Roy about my new uniform designs,"

"it's called a kit, coach," Beard suddenly appears next to Ted, Jane beside him.

"well we'll have to make them thermal then... winter is coming!" Ted says proudly, snapping his fingers with a chuckle.

you look up at Beard, completely confused. "Game of Thrones," he says in a flat tone. from beside him, Jane also speaks up in the same way; "Kit Harington."

"ah," you say, the awkward smile on your face fading as you turn away from the encounter, shaking your head as you walk to the other side of the table. pulling out the chair directly across from Ted, you're facing the stage with your back to the rest of the tables. as you move to sit down, however, Rebecca stops you.

"wait, okay, hold on," she circles the table, stopping at each chair and crouching down. your brows furrow as you watch her, clueless as to what she was doing. she brings her hands up in front of her face, holding her fingers in an L-shape as she frames her vision. "perfect..." she stands up straight and pulls out the chair in front of her, "this is your seat."

the antics make you laugh, giving in and moving two seats to the left and sitting down; "thanks?"

"you're so very welcome," her tone is sincere, as if she didn't just dance around the table choosing you a chair. she sits down in the seat to your right, immediately grabbing for one of the complimentary bottles of white wine set in the centre of the table. screwing open the top, she fills your glass first, all the way up to the brim. she does the same for her glass, almost making it overflow, before putting the wine bottle back into its ice bucket.

"Rebecca, oh my God," you widen your eyes at her with a smile, and her mischievous smirk makes you laugh. "I've already paid for it! we might as well drink it." as the two of you giggle, you raise your glasses and clink them together, some wine spilling over the rim as you cheers.

"hey! wait for me!" Keeley runs over, Roy trailing behind her, before lifting her cocktail up to join your toast, "here's to y/n shagging Jamie tonight!"

your hand flies to your mouth in shock and you shush her, glancing around to see if anyone heard her vulgar words. the only other guest who heard her comment was Roy, who smiles at you sympathetically before muttering "fucking gross," under his breath as he sits down. Keeley playfully sticks her tongue out at you before moving to sit beside between Rebecca and Roy. she leans over closer to you and Rebecca as Roy fills their glasses with wine; "have you seen Jamie's pocket square, by the way?"

you don't need to be looking in the mirror to know the intense blush that just set across your cheeks as you avoid looking at her. Rebecca furrows her brows and shakes her head, looking between you and Keeley. you suck in your lips and close your eyes, knowing what Keeley is about to say.

"it's the same as y/n's dress!" she whisper yells, and you reluctantly open one eye to see Rebecca's reaction.

"what the fuck?!" her eyes shoot open wide as her head snaps to look at you. you stay quiet, opening your other eye and bearing your teeth in a wide grimace. "how did he get a piece of your dress?" Rebecca says to you in a hushed tone before her face drops, "oh my God, y/n, don't tell me you've already slept with him."

now it's your turn to widen your eyes in a shocked expression; "Jesus, no!" you say, slightly offended by Rebecca's assumption. she, Keeley, and Roy stare at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue.

"what?" you ask them, nervously chugging the rest of your peach cocktail. none of them speak as they watch you drink, and you roll your eyes before explaining: "he went dress shopping with me and I guess the tailor made him a pocket square for tonight. I swear I had no idea he was going to do that! he did it behind my back."

Keeley squints at you, clearly not believing a word you say. when you look at Rebecca, she pouts her lips and nods, but you can't decipher whether it's in reassurance or mockery. "I believe you," Roy suddenly says, "he's a possessive little bitch, he would definitely pull this shit."

you chuckle at his words, and he sends you a quick wink with a small smile. as you look past Roy, your smile drops, not giving you the chance to return the wink, and Rebecca says what you're thinking: "speak of the devil,"

"you talkin' bout me?" Jamie says, firmly placing his hands on Roy's shoulders as he stands behind him. a cocky grin plasters his face as he stares down at you, quickly winking at you as your mouth falls slightly open.

"let go of me." Roy states, face stone cold as he stares ahead. Jamie doesn't follow his order, simply squeezing Roy's shoulders and shaking him side to side. "I'll kill you." Roy says again, but Jamie ignores him.

"Rebecca?" he asks sweetly, taking his time to drag his eyes off of you and look at the woman next to you, "why can't I sit at this table?"

"oooh..." Ted says, watching intently as Rebecca folds her arms on the table. Jamie's tight-lipped smile is sweet, but fake, and Rebecca mirrors his expression. she inhales deeply, tilting her head to the side as she looks up at him.

"because I said so, Jamie." she says, and your eyebrows arch as you bite back a smile when he glances at you, his cocky expression now cracking slightly. his grin turns into a pout as he gasps for a response. "but-" he starts, but Rebecca interrupts his rebuttal: "because I pay you to play football for me, Jamie, not to accompany me to dinner."

Roy bursts into a loud laugh, gaining everyone's attention as the table goes completely silent. Jamie slides his hands from his shoulders, startled by the sound of his laughter. Keeley giggles from beside Roy, covering her mouth to hide it. the whole table looks at him, amused smiles creeping up your faces. Jamie, on the other hand, looks defeated, eyes finding yours again. he sends you a sad look, pouting his lips. silently, you lift your shoulders in a shrug, smiling at him. your smile is sincere and warm, despite his opposite expression. still, since your encounter in the bathrooms not too long ago, your heart is finding it hard not to be fond of Jamie as you look at him. you'd like to keep up the tension-filled flirtatious banter, but since feeling the pressure of his mouth on yours, you can't help but long for the next time you'll get to taste him.

"good one, Rebecca," Roy finally speaks, falling back into his blunt normality as he brings his drink to his mouth.

Jamie composes himself, rolling his eyes before glancing at everyone at the table; "whatever," he mutters, looking straight at you again, "see you during the auction, y/n," he winks before turning and walking away, clearly quickly recovering from the embarrassment.

Rebecca and Keeley slowly turn towards you, mouths agape, and the three of you wait a few seconds before squealing in excitement.

"holy shit!" Keeley says, reaching across Rebecca to grab your hand, "he wants you!" she growls, and you all share another screech as you process Jamie's parting words.

"who wants who?!" a voice interjects your noise, matching your excitement with an amused tone and a wide smile. you look to your left as the same brunette from the bathroom sits down in the free seat next to you. your expression drops as you feel the blood drain from your face, contrasting the deep blush Jamie had just given you. she catches your eye and smiles wide; "hey! we're at the same table, what a coincidence!"

"Sassy Smurf?!" Ted hangs his head to the side to try and see her face. she immediately turns to him, opening her arms wide as they match each other's wide smiles. "Marlboro Man!" she shouts, and they embrace in a quick hug. the interaction both warms your heart and confuses you, turning to give Rebecca a questioning look. you're overwhelmed by all of the interactions you've had since sitting down at the table, and at this point you have no idea how the evening is going to pan out.

Rebecca smiles at you, interrupting Ted and the mystery woman's conversation to introduce you; "y/n, this is Flo, my best friend,"

"since childhood," she includes, "and you can just call me Sassy, it makes me feel more interesting," she smiles and winks at you as she holds out a hand for you to shake. you take it, repeating Rebecca by saying "I'm y/n, it's so lovely to meet you."

"y/n is our receptionist at Richmond, and she's really good," Keeley says, "she gets along with literally everyone, especially Jamie Tartt." she smirks at Sassy and raises her eyebrows suggestively.

Sassy turns to look at you wide eyes, an intrigued smile spreading across her face as she looks at you. you can almost see the cogs turning in her mind, and your face falls as you try to shake your head as subtly as possible. panic starts setting in as you realise she's connecting the dots between you in the bathroom and the conversation at the table, and you hope your wide eyes tell her not to mention your post-Jamie run in.

"ooh," she drawls, elongating the vowels as she nods her head. you hold your breath, hoping she understood your silent plea. "yeah, he's not really my type but, go get it babe," she sends you a cheeky grin and raises her brows at you. you feel the back of her hand tap the side of your thigh in reassurance as she turns her back to you; "so Ted, how have you been?" you hear her say, and you sigh in relief before drinking as much wine as you can in one gulp.

everyone quickly moves on, diving into their own conversations. Ted and Sassy seem to know each other quite well, Sassy leaning close to him as he speaks, making him blush. Rebecca must notice your confused expression, interrupting her own chat with Keeley and Roy to lean in to your ear; "they've slept together a few times." your eyes widen as you dramatically scoop your head to the side to look at Rebecca. you exchange knowing smiles, and her eyes soften as she looks at you. furrowing your brows as you notice her expression change, you're about to ask her if everything's okay, but she beats you to it.

"as much as we tease you about it," she starts, "Keeley and I think you and Jamie are perfect for each other. I can see how much you like him and -- not that he's hiding it very well -- but I can tell he is utterly in love with you."

you open your mouth to contest, but Rebecca holds a hand up to stop you; "I promise, y/n. now, during the auction, I want you to bid whatever amount needed to win him. don't worry about the cost, I'll cover it."

"oh- absolutely not!" you gawk at Rebecca, "you can't buy me a dress and a man!"

"of course I can. I'm the boss, remember?" her voice is stern as she pats your thigh.

"please, I'm begging you, just take the dress out of my paycheck." your eyes are pleading as you clasp your hands together. she shakes her head at you and tsks; "none of it. now, let's eat."

as if on cue, dozens of waiters appear out of nowhere, carrying platters of plates. first they bring the chicken, then the steak. you all dig into your dinner, and the food is delicious - not surprising, Rebecca would never settle for less than perfect. you eat, drink, and laugh, especially with Sassy beside you, her numerous offhand comments making you laugh louder than you normally would if you didn't have this much alcohol running through your veins. you notice the way Ted looks at her, even when she's speaking to someone else, and you recognise it as similar to the way Jamie looked at you in the dress boutique earlier this week. his eyes are soft and features relaxed, a small smile resting comfortably on his lips. his pupils are big, and his chest moves up and down slowly as he breathes -- he seems completely at ease, despite the hustle and bustle of the room. it makes you think of seeing Keeley and Roy earlier, looking at each other as if they were the only ones here, not a care in the world about who's around them. you smile to yourself before turning your attention back to the story Sassy is telling, some retelling of a funny memory she shares with Rebecca.

Keeley laughs at her words, and the sound is just infectious, making you laugh more than the story itself. your eyes move to look at Roy, who looks at Keeley with soft eyes identical to Ted's. you huff a small laugh to yourself, it going unnoticed by those around you as they're all engrossed in the conversation. Roy stares at Keeley with such adoration that it tugs at your heartstrings. their chairs are pulled close together, and his arm is draped over the back of her chair as she leans into him ever so slightly. her wine glass sits in her hand as she laughs, and each time she does, Roy smiles to himself. you doubt he's even listening to Sassy's tale, completely distracted by Keeley's joy. he's infatuated with her, and you can tell by the way she continues to crack his hard exterior. you wonder what he's like with her behind closed doors; you bet she has him walking around wearing her signature pink robe.

you look down at your hands, admiring the manicure you got in preparation for the event. the glossy light pink colour matches the details of your outfit, and you're still surprised at how comfortable your dress is. you run your fingers over the blue sequins, seeing how they reflect the chandeliers above you. you can't believe Jamie's little stunt he pulled -- when did he even ask Sarah to make him that pocket square? you look over your left shoulder, trying to find him at the table behind you, but he's not there. when you look to your right and past Rebecca, you see a table with Richmond staff, but no still no Jamie. scanning the countless people at the event, you can't seem to spot him.

it seems you were looking too far, however, as when you look at the table diagonal to yours, also in the middle of the room, your eyes land on him immediately. he's already looking at you, lids low on his eyes as he stares. you quickly glance away, trying to hide the fact you were looking for him, but you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. he's sitting with other Richmond players, but doesn't seem engaged with them at all as he stares at you. you have no idea of knowing how long he's been staring at you, but decide to meet his eyes again. as predicted, he's still looking in your direction. unlike usually, his face isn't cocky or teasing. instead, his eyes are soft and dark, and his mouth is closed in a small and subtle smile, probably unaware of its presence on his face. your gentle smile morphs into a shy one as he doesn't break away from your stare.

looking back to your lap, you touch your fingertips up to brush your lips, replaying every second of your kiss with Jamie in the bathroom. your skin recalls each goosebump as you imagine the way his hands ran up your spine. as you remember the taste of his tongue against yours, a blush takes over your face and your vision blurs. days of tension and patient waiting were interrupted by that first kiss, and you hope that wasn't your last.

—

the evening continues smoothly; you all finish your meals and continue emptying the wine bottles. warmth runs through your veins as alcohol mixes with contentment, and you fight the urge to blurt out something stupid about Jamie in your conversations. this proves to be made extra hard with him in your peripheral vision, and you can feel his eyes on you every time you laugh. you get more flustered the more wine you drink, and it's a true struggle not to stand up, take Jamie's hand, and take him home.

your engrossed in conversation with Sassy and Ted when Rebecca speaks into the microphone on the stage. you hadn't even noticed her leaving the table, a testament to your tunnel vision after a few drinks. Keeley shuffles over to sit next to you, and you see Roy standing up from the table. he buttons his suit jacket swiftly as he slides past the other tables and towards the stage. Keeley grabs your hand and squeals; "time for the auction! I will literally kill anyone that bids on Roy."

"ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming to support this year's annual Benefit for Underprivileged Children gala!"

the room breaks into a loud applause at Rebecca's words, and you take the opportunity to glance at Jamie. this time, to your surprise, he's not looking at you. his eyes are focused on the stage, and you use his distraction to look him up and down, eyes lingering on his pocket square. dragging your eyes upwards again, you notice Sam looking at you. he's sitting right next to Jamie, and is clapping absentmindedly as he stares at you with a challenging look, eyes squinting. you ignore him, quickly facing the stage again.

"now for the part you've all been waiting for," Rebecca continues, "the auction for a chance to spend an all-expenses paid evening with one of Richmond FC's very own football players!" everyone claps again, and the cheers get louder as Roy makes his way onto the stage. you jump at the sound of Keeley screaming beside you, her arms in the air as she claps for her boyfriend. his face remains expressionless as he lifts a hand up to salute to Keeley, and she does the same. she grabs your arm with one hand as the other holds her bidding paddle at the ready.

"I love it when he acts all 'I'm Roy and I don't smile'" she puts on a gruff voice as she smiles, "I just keep trying to make him crack!"

"first up, Roy Kent." Rebecca says, gesturing as Roy steps up to the microphone.

he takes a deep breath before using his best deadpan voice to say: "if any of you, other than Keeley Jones, put up your hand, I'll have you escorted out of here." the crowd laugh at his words, but his face stays cold as Keeley throws her paddle up into the air; "twenty-five thousand!" she shouts with a beaming smile, standing up from her seat with a small jump. "sold to the lovely lady in the puffy skirt!" Roy says into the mic before Rebecca even has the chance. Keeley squeals as Roy immediately exits the stage, making his way back over to the table. when he reaches Keeley, she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him sweetly. Ted coos at the gesture, and the players behind you cheer and ooh at the couple obnoxiously. Roy flips them off as he keeps his lips on Keeley's, and it makes you think of Jamie again.

when you flick your eyes over to his seat, you find it empty, but Sam still manages to catch your eyes again. you curse under your breath before forcing a smile. he points to the stage and when you turn your head, you see Jamie standing on the stage next to Rebecca. the spotlights make his pocket square sparkle, and the sight makes your heart beat faster than it should. "he's a possessive little bitch" Roy's words run circles around your head, and you can't help but admit you don't mind his possessiveness -- only when it comes to you.

"next we have a free meal with unlimited wine at the luxurious Richmond Hill Hotel with the one and only Jamie Tartt!" Rebecca exclaims, "and if the lucky bidder gets even luckier, she can have one night's stay in the hotel included!"

your cheeks flush a deep crimson as your mouth drops open wide. Sassy turns to you with a loud gasp, and Keeley cackles as she grabs your hand, bouncing up and down in her seat. your hands cover your mouth as you duck your head shyly, your entire table encouraging you to reach for your paddle. you finally make eye contact with Jamie, who is biting his lip with a teethy grin. he shoots you one of his classic winks and you sigh, picking up the paddle.

"let's start at five thousand for Jamie," Rebecca says.

you're about to put your number in the air, but someone else beats you to it. you look to the right, following the voice repeating the number, only to see Roy with his paddle in the air. the room erupts in laughter, including Jamie. Roy looks at you and winks; "we could get some extra training in," and he cracks you a smile.

"five thousand for Roy Kent? okay," Rebecca says as she holds back a laugh. her eyes are on you as she continues; "six thousand?"

finally lifting your paddle, you call out: "six thousand!"

Jamie smiles as Rebecca says your name into the microphone. unlike at the table earlier, his face is back to a cocky grin. strong arms crossed in front of his chest, his chin is held high as he runs his tongue across his teeth. his eyes are glued to yours, so you take it upon yourself to drag them up and down his body, enjoying the view. his trousers are tight around his thighs, and his arms practically bulge out of the suit jacket. how had you not noticed this earlier? how big he looks in the fitted outfit, and how much you like his blonde hair, and how the button up shirt he's wearing isn't white, but is actually the same shade of dusty pink as your shoes. your lips part as you realise just how much you two are matching, and your brows furrow in feigned anger. Jamie smirks as he sees you looking him up and down, but you decide to tease him just a bit more.

"do I hear seven thousand?"

eyes on his, you refuse to lift your paddle, despite Sassy trying to lift your hand. keeping it tucked under your crossed legs, you don't make any move to bid on him.

"seven thousand pounds!" you hear from behind you, and you turn to see Sam's hand in the air. everyone laughs again, and his joke starts a ripple effect amongst the football players.

"ten thousand." Isaac says bluntly, and when Jamie blows him a kiss from the stage he says: "love you, bruv!"

the bidding goes through a number of players dotted throughout the room until finally, the number reaches nineteen thousand.

"any more for any more?" Rebecca hopes, glaring at you.

Keeley drums on the table suddenly, and Sassy is quick to join in. soon, Roy, Ted, Beard, and even Jane are all tapping the table, giving you a drum roll.

"twenty thousand!" you shout, shaking your head as you throw your eyes to the sky. Rebecca doesn't give the chance for any more bids, immediately saying: "sold for twenty thousand to y/n y/l/n!"

Jamie laughs as he looks down at you, and you bite your lip as he mouths to you; "you're mine."

—

with the auction finished, and some of the Richmond players paired up with new potential wags, most of the tables are empty. although Rebecca couldn't hire the real ABBA, Higgins managed to find a more-than-decent cover band to take the stage as musical guest. you bounce up and down to the rhythm of the music, hand-in-hand with Rebecca. you spin her around, and she does the same to you as you sing along to the classic 'Dancing Queen', and you point to her every time the chorus plays. you laugh and cackle as you scream along to the songs, dancing with Rebecca and Keeley, and sometimes Sassy. allegedly, Roy doesn't dance, so Keeley has resorted to dancing on her own. she has long discarded her heels, and you wish you had the balls to do the same.

when the song switches to 'Chiquitita', Keeley collapses against Rebecca's chest, clutching her tightly in a hug. Sassy whispers something to Ted, who has been krumping the whole time, before they both disappear through the double doors into the hallway you had pulled Jamie through earlier. you smile as you watch them walk away, hand-in-hand. when you turn back to Keeley and Rebecca, you're surprised to see Sam standing in front of you, hand outstretched. you take it with a shy smile, and he pulls you close. you put a hand on his shoulder as he leans down, but he keeps the hand not holding yours to himself; how respectful. together, you move side to side as he has to shout in your ear to be heard above the music.

"where's Jamie?" he asks.

"I don't know," you reply, standing cheek to cheek so he can hear you.

"you look stunning tonight, y/n."

"thank you, Sam! you look great!" when you saw him at the bar earlier, you hadn't completely recovered from Jamie, so you hadn't noticed his sophisticated look for the night.

"I know you and Jamie were in the bathroom together," he says, ignoring your compliment, "and I noticed your matching outfits."

you roll your eyes, pulling him close to you so you can explain yourself; "I didn't know how was going to do that! Roy said he was being possessive."

"and Roy is right...," he says, twirling you around using your entwined hands, and he stops your spin halfway, allowing your eyes to fall on a sulking Jamie, "now go talk to Jamie. I've gotten him all jealous and bothered, now you have to handle the rest while I try to talk to Rebecca."

turning to face Sam again, you laugh wildly, slapping his arm as you pretend to be upset at his antics. he matches your expression, cackling as shakes his hips. you hold your pointer finger up to him, quickly grabbing his hand again and pulling him towards Rebecca, who is still holding Keeley in her arms. their height difference is exacerbated by Keeley's missing shoes, and her eyes are closed as she rests her head on Rebecca's chest. your boss looks at you, pursing her lips as she holds back her laughter. you move closer to her; "Sam has no one to dance with, maybe you can lend him a hand?" you say before leaning down to whisper in Keeley's ear. "Sam is here." you say, and she doesn't need any more information before standing up straight and dancing through the crowd and out of sight.

pushing Sam towards Rebecca, you let go of his hand, quickly fixing the twisted strap on your pumps before stepping back onto the carpet. fittingly so, the band starts singing 'Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!', and you smirk to myself as you walk towards Jamie. his jacket is unbuttoned, pockets hanging loosely at his side. with his head down, he has one hand in his pocket and the other fidgeting with a toothpick on top of the table. he doesn't notice you approach, so you move to stand behind him. you bend over slightly, folding your arms over his shoulders as you hold your face next to his. Jamie, stubborn as always, doesn't react to your presence, so you flatten your palms against his midriff, feeling his hard abs beneath his shirt. this makes him sit up slightly, taking a hand out of his pocket and placing it over your hands.

"isn't it funny you're at table six, and I was at table nine..." you say in his ear, but he ignores your silly comment.

your fingers drag up painfully slowly, reaching his chest before he drops his hand down. his chest moves up and down rapidly as he borderline pants at your touch. separating your hands, you bring them across his chest firmly before pulling them up to his shoulders. you squeeze his solid muscles, secretly admiring his strength.

"there's not a soul out there," you whisper along to the song, lips brushing his ear, "no one to hear my prayer,"

"Jamie," your voice is sultry in his ear, knowing exactly what you want from him right now. the song isn't helping your heated state, the bass pumping in your flushed chest. he tips his head back as you continue to massage his shoulders, resting it in the crook of your neck. you can see every inch of the soft skin on his throat, and you drag your eyes over his adam's apple as it bobs with his nervous gulp. stopping the movement of your fingers, Jamie stands up abruptly, buttoning his jacket with shaky hands.

smirking as you look up at him, he clenches his jaw and shakes his head as if telling you not to say anything. without another word, he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers tightly, and walks towards the door. he pushes through the first set of double doors, you in tow, before suddenly coming to a halt. you stand beside him, both of you silent for a few seconds. torrential rain slaps the pavement outside of the venue, and you look at your clothes with wide eyes. he does the same, and when your eyes meet again, you both laugh. his hand comes up to brush his air back as he looks out at the rain, but your eyes are glued to his bicep. the seams of jacket look like they're about to burst as he flexes his muscles, and your smile fades into an O-shape as your jaw slacks. yes, he's a professional footballer, but he's so big, and so muscular. your eyes drop down as you lean back, taking a glimpse of his backside, and that is definitely a rugby ass.

"fuck it," he mumbles, pulling you from your trance, and before you know it he's pulling you outside. you rush down the steps, squeezing his hand tight so you don't slip, before running to the street corner. there's a line of black cabs picking up guests, and Jamie pulls open the door to one. holding open the door for you, he lets you crawl in first, before ducking down.

"hi!" you chirp to the driver as Jamie climbs in next to you, "sorry you have to drive in this weather," you apologise before giving him your address through the plastic privacy partition. the driver closes it, so you buckle your seatbelt, and once Jamie's shut the door, he does the same.

"we're going to yours?" he asks, pushing his dripping wet hair out of his eyes.

"yeah." you say simply, smiling at him. you're sure you look like a drowned rat, and you hope your makeup isn't running down your face. despite only being in the rain for a minute or so, you're both completely soaked.

you look at each other for a few seconds as the driver takes off, and you can't help but laugh at each other's appearance.

"you look like you do after training, but... worse," you giggle, pushing a misplaced strand of his hair over.

"and you look... just a little bit melted," he laughs, "but still gorgeous." while you laugh, your lip quivers as you shiver from the cold rain, so he shrugs off his wet jacket, laying it over your legs in a poor attempt to keep you warm, but it's the thought that counts.

turning to look through the window, the air suddenly grows a little bit awkward. five minutes ago you were ready to let him do whatever he wanted to you, and now you're sitting next to each other in a silent cab completely drenched from the rain. you sigh, thinking about your next move. you want to reach over the middle seat and take his hand in his -- quite frankly, you'd prefer to straddle him and make out with him right here and now. but you stick with your first option, glancing down at your lap before sliding your hand over and taking his. as you fold your fingers together you bring his hand up, brushing your lips over the back of it as you kiss each of his knuckles. you don't look at him, just hold his hand in your lap as you continue staring out the window.

the drive continues in silence for a few more minutes, before Jamie clears his throat. eyes glued to the street, you don't look at him when he speaks; "aren't you happy you won me in the auction?" you can hear the smirk in his voice as he says it, and you roll your eyes with a smile.

"is this our free date night, then? because I was actually going to give it to my dad as a birthday gift, he loves you." you reply, still avoiding turning to him.

"I'll make sure he tells you how good I am in the bedroom," this makes you snap your head towards him, mouth agape, and he laughs at your expression as he tosses his head back against the car seat. you laugh along with him, staring at his bright smile. your eyes drop down and look at how his wet button up clings to his skin, and suddenly your heart beat speeds up again.

attempting to calm yourself, you look at the jacket draped over your lap. reaching for its pocket, you pull the folded blue fabric out of it. you hold it up to Jamie, raising your eyebrows in silent question. his expression falls sheepish again, smile fading. he glances out the window briefly before turning to you again, concerned look on his face.

"y/n, I just wanna say -- I'm sorry if me wearin' that pocket square made you uncomfortable. I guess I was so wrapped up in all of the flirting and everythin' that I didn't think about how it would look wearin' that tonight," his words are sincere as he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"Jamie," you whisper, eyes softening as you process his worry, "thank you for apologising, but don't worry. sure, it was surprising, but honestly I think it's really fit..."

his worried look turns to confusion as he puckers his lips; "what? are you serious?" he asks you, eyebrows arched.

"yes, Jamie, I'm being very serious. why do you think I took you to the bathroom and made out with you?" you say, absentmindedly playing with the fingers wrapped around your hand.

his eyes look to the ceiling of the car, and he licks his lips as he thinks hard. sighing, he starts slowly nodding his yet; "yeah... I guess so... well-played." he says, winking at you, and suddenly he's back to his regular, teasing self.

"so, why aren't we going to my superstar footballer mansion?" he asks, lips frowning in a grimace.

"because my penthouse flat is right here," you say, ducking your head down and pointing out of his window. the cab stops right in front of the small car park of your apartment. it's not a big building by any means, so it's more like a drive way that have a few cars parked on it. Jamie looks up at the four-storey building before looking at you with a bored expression.

"penthouse?" he repeats, pointing his thumb out the window, "how luxurious." he rolls his eyes before digging through his trouser pocket, pulling out a money clip.

"a money clip?" your tone now matches his, "what are you? fifty?"

"here ya go, sir," he hands a wad of cash to the taxi driver without even knowing how much the ride was. he ignores your comment, opening the door and holding it for you. you pass him his jacket, and when you step out of the car, he throws it over your shoulders. the rain is still lashing, and you make a run for the front door as Jamie closes the cab door and thanks the driver.

you hold your clutch over your head as you try to shield your hair from any more rain, but you doubt it helps at all. you knock on the double doors to the entrance, and the doorkeeper sitting in his small booth inside buzzes you in. Jamie catches up with you and places a hand on the small of your back as you walk inside. you shrug his jacket off, handing it to him as you make your way to the lift. he folds it over his arm, and smiles at the doorkeeper as you walk past his desk. you press the button to call the lift, and the doors immediately open.

"Jamie Tartt?" he asks out loud, completely bewildered.

the two of you step inside the lift, and when Jamie turns to face him with a friendly face, he holds a finger to his lips as if to shush him. the door slides closed, and the doorkeeper remains in shock the entire time. leaning against the wall, you stare up at Jamie with an amused grin, but the second the lift starts its ascent, Jamie turns to you. he grabs your face and crashes his lips onto yours. your hand flies up to clutch his wrist as you lose yourself to his touch. you waste no time slipping your tongue into his mouth again, and you feel like you can finally breathe. all evening you imagined doing this again, and now your body shivers as the anticipation comes to an end.

the lift stops, and Jamie stands up instantly, clearing his throat. you're left panting against the mirrored wall of the lift as it dings and the doors open. Jamie stands aside, holding out a hand as he beckons for you to walk in front of him. pushing yourself up, you pop open your clutch to dig for your keys. when you walk past Jamie he, of course, gives you a small slap to your ass. you squeak at the noise, but don't say anything else, pulling your housekeys from your bag. Jamie follows you around the corner and towards your door, and when you unlock it and push it open, the warmth of your apartment feels like heaven on your wet skin.

"it's small, but it's all I need really," you explain to Jamie as you walk towards your sofa. "nah, it's nice," he smiles at you sweetly, the opposite to the way he looked at you in the lift.

your living room and kitchen are conjoined, and the space definitely isn't the biggest, but its coziness welcomes you. dropping yourself onto the plush couch, you sink into the pillows, staring at Jamie. he clicks the door shut behind him before slipping off his dress shoes and placing them next to your doormat, right beside your work shoes. he turns and walks towards you, unbuttoning his jacket and throwing it over the arm of your grey sofa. you expect him to sit down next to you, but instead, he crouches down, kneeling on the ground proposal-style. quickly sitting up, you stare down at him skeptically, wondering what his next move is. his eyes hold yours as he slides his hands up your calves, and goosebumps raise on the smooth skin instantly. leaning forward, Jamie pushes your dress an inch over your knees before gently kissing them. you can't help but laugh at the feeling, it tickling slightly due to your damp skin. his thumbs slide over the divots in your knees, and graze over some scar you've had since childhood.

his hands slide down your legs before he focuses his fingers on the clasp of your heels. lifting your right foot up slightly, he brings his lips to your ankle, kissing gently before sliding the pump off. he does the same to the your other foot, and the relief of having your shoes off makes you sigh as you hang your head back. Jamie presses his thumbs into the sole of your left foot, easily rubbing the knot out of the arch of your foot. a small whine slips from your lips at the feeling, and Jamie lets a low chuckle slip as he moves on to your other foot, doing the exact same thing. this time, you manage to hold back your groans, biting down on your bottom lip with your eyes screwed shut.

moving his lips back to your ankle, Jamie straightens out your leg, running kisses up the side of your calf. when he reaches your knee, he brings your leg back down before sliding his hands up to your thighs, one hand on each leg. you lift your head to look down at him, and his eyes hold a pleading look as he stares up at you. your lips part, completely invigorated by the sight of Jamie on his knee in front of you, hands hidden under your dress, practically begging to touch you. leaning forward, you take control, wrapping his tie around your fist as you pull up, helping him back to his feet. he holds his hands out for you, and you take them as he lifts you from the sofa. staring up at him, hands resting in his, your flutter your lashes.

"you okay?" Jamie whispers, a crooked smile appearing on your face.

you nod and hum in response, letting go of one of his hands and stepping past him. he follows you as you pull his hand, walking down the hallway. you pass the bathroom, heading straight for your bedroom. leaving the door open behind you, you push Jamie into the room ahead of you, letting go of his hand. he sits down at the end of your bed, legs spread. you slot between them, back turned to him. reaching up, his fingers delicately pull at the zip on the back of the dress as you pull down the straps, and you think back to the boutique; you knew you wanted tonight to end this way, but never in a million years had you actually thought it would.

as the dress drops from your frame, you hear Jamie's breath hitch at the sight of your pink lingerie. his hands immediately come to your waist, spinning you to face him. straddling his lap, your hands come up to his neck as his hold your back to keep you up. a smile creeps onto your face as your cheeks go hot, and Jamie mirrors you. moving to look down to avoid your gaze, his eyes snap up again immediately, flustered by the lace covering your body. a giggle escapes your lips as you pulls his face to yours, pressing kisses to each cheek before moving up to his forehead, then down to his nose, before finally reconnecting your lips.

deepening the kiss, your lips move against his with a hasty hunger, and as you're about to slip your tongue into his mouth again, Jamie pulls back; "oh shit," he says, and you shake your head in confusion.

"what?" you ask, embarrassment beginning to cloud your mind as you stare at him expectantly.

he avoids your eyes, shaking his head with his lips parted in thought; "I forgot to sign out after work today."

———

i told u this would be long x_x

thank u so so much for reading richmond's receptionist! i've had the most fun writing this and will probs write an epilogue asap (i'm not ready to move on yet)! any feedback is welcomed and appreciated, thank u! <3

[seancekitsch]

Can’t Stand Me Now; a modern Aegon x Stark! reader fic

PROLOGUE: Not if You Were the Last Junkie on Earth

series masterlist here

warnings for the series: smut, smoking, drinking, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, more to come as needed

It’s finally dark by the time you step out of the underground, a chill accompanying the loss of light. Your old Jeffrey Campbell kitten heels clack along the cobblestones, bare ankles wobbly as you pull your faux leopard coat tighter over your body. Fall is finally settling in after a long hot summer at your boutique without air conditioning, a needed respite. No longer will you be handing out fans to customers or keeping a cooler of ice water behind your register. If you were back home, you’d already be in your parka, too cold to even open a window for a smoke or stand around outside for a pint after work. It never gets quite that cold here, and you have to thank your frozen old gods for that. People bustle around you, nightlife of a Friday already in full swing. You can already see the pub below your flat has a crowd of people spilling out of it into the streets. 

Neon lights the way, your choice of a flat in the Fleabottom area of Kings Landing a deliberate one; for no one wants to live where it’s loud, if they can help it. That means a spacious flat for less funds, more money to put into your boutique and barre classes in a posh neighborhood and expensive liquor to stock your cabinets. You however, thrive in chaos like moth to a flame, a flat above a pub is not an issue, as your last flat had been above a sex shop, the flat above that at Kings Landing University was above a club. Everything in Kings Landing was louder than Winterfell, and for that, you were thankful to blend into its shadows. Here, you were just another face on the train, another chic bitch taking an outfit of the day photo in the alley next to her building. 

It wasn’t always that way, no. When you went to KLU, you were damn near a socialite. Eldest daughter of the richest family in the north, best friends with the eldest son of the richest family in the south. Your whereabouts and your antics had been the subject of more than a few gossip pages and twitter threads, invasive pictures dissecting what you wore posted with price tags and zoomed in inserts of parts of your body you rather strangers not examine. 

But one day that all ended, you gradually disappeared from all of them happily. No longer were you exciting now that you were trying to become a business woman, feeds of your storefront so much less enticing than pictures of you scantily clad in vintage designer dresses and slung across a Targaryen lap.

Luckily, now if someone recognizes you, it’s because you’re the woman from above the pub, you’re the woman with the clothing store with bold prints in every color but green. You wave to a regular you see nursing a pint near one of the stand up tables against the pub, he’s always here after work… for at least five additional hours. Hopefully his wife knows he’s here instead of doing anything less innocent. 

You speed up as you pass more and more storefronts- a weird little skip walk in anticipation to your door, welcome and needed after a successful but busy day. The blue door shines like a beacon, nestled between a venue and a pub. Your key fits easily into the lock, and then the other lock, and the door gives way with only a slight push of your shoulder. How many times have you tried to leave the house and people had been smashed up against it, kissing or worse? You can’t recall, but you attribute it to the annoying stick of your door whether that’s fair or not. 

Slamming the door shut behind you, you trudge up the stairs, shrugging your jacket off and pulling your phone from the inside pocket before throwing it onto the coat rack outside your second door. Your other key works like butter in this one, and no shoving is required. You slam this door as well, and head straight to your window where a vintage brass ash tray and a cigarette lay ready for you. You open the window, a welcome draft accompanied by the din of the crowds. A vibration on your phone distracts you from lighting the cigarette between your fingers.

You figure its Sara, your younger half-sister. She seems to be your only friend these days. A recent graduate of KLU, but still taking daddy’s money, she lives across the city. Every weekend you go out drinking or dancing, twice a week you go to barre class, thrice a week she picks up a shift at your shop. You won’t be surprised if she’s telling you she’s heading over to go out, or inviting you out to one of the more expensive dance clubs in her neighborhood. You’ll go, if that is what she’s asking. Even if you’re almost thirty, that doesn’t mean you’re a homebody yet. You actually like one of the clubs she frequents, so you’ll hope she actually suggests you come to her’s. 

Only it’s not her name on the notification. It’s a message request to your personal, private instagram. You don’t get many of those, and curiosity gets the better of you. You immediately unlock your phone to swipe on the message. 

Message Request:

@ eggtarg: yo. u still single ??

Five Years, Two Months, Ten Days ago

A kiss on your lips, a harsh slap on his cheek, another kiss now this time initiated by you. That’s how this started. Another drunken night now a new drunken tryst.

Aegon’s fist wraps around your hair, yanking your head back harshly as his other hand digs into your hip, a vice-like grip. He slams into you, thrusts harsh and hard. Your fingers curl into his flannel bedsheets, lips hanging open as you moan wantonly for him. 

“Fuck, darling you don’t know how bad I’ve wanted this,” Aegon slurs, his lips finding your shoulder blade as he drapes himself over you, not at all slowing or stopping his pace within you. 

“You’re so amazing,” he moans, praise hot and heavy in his breath against your ear. 

“I never took you for a talker,” you joke with him, but the moan in your voice gives you away. 

He pulls out, only to turn you over and immediately go back to fucking you, reinserting himself gently before immediately snapping his hips into you. Your hands find his hair, nails on his scalp as you bring him down in a kiss, not the first and certainly not the last of the night. He babbles against your skin, kissing you and cutting off his own words, his hands all over you. His hands were always all over you, but this time it was different. 

“I love you,” he whispers, and you feel a hot tear fall and drip down the side of your throat. 

“I love you, you whisper back, hooking your legs around his waist. 

You both finish with tears in your eyes and smiles on your lips. 

He falls asleep combing his fingers through your hair, not unlike a normal sleepover between the two of you, but this time he’s mumbling nonsense about how he’s gonna plan the best date for the next day and how he’s never going to let you go. Aegon makes big promises. He says he’s stop drinking if you asked, says he’d buy a space for the boutique you want to open, says you and he could adopt Sunfyre a younger sibling, says he cannot wait to bring you back to his family estate as his woman and not just a friend. He mentions his mother’s ring.

You fall asleep feeling like there’s a plan for the rest of your life.

When you woke up, he wasn’t there. When you called him, it went to voicemail. When you texted, they stayed on read. 

He became a stranger after that. 

Message Request:

@ eggtarg: yo. u still single ??

Your finger moves, maybe on its own accord, and clicks the message. You can see his profile clearer now. Clicking on it, you notice something immediately. Larissa Lannister, his supposed fiancee, is no where to be found on his feed. Seemingly endless pictures of his cat Sunfyre, pictures of his siblings on family retreats, a Mother’s day post for Alicent, blurry party pictures with a few of his guys from college. It’s as if Larissa Lannister never existed. 

You immediately thumb the little back arrow in the corner when you see a picture of yourself, laughing wrapped in his arms.

But it seems the damage is already done. 

Message:

@ eggtarg: yo. u still single ??

@ eggtarg: ive missed u so much . i cn see uve read darling

Fuck this. Fuck this so incredibly much. You swipe off of the app, immediately calling Sara and putting it on speakerphone before finally lighting the cigarette. 

Sara, always prompt and attached to her phone, picks up after the first ring. 

“You done work?” she chirps on the other side, music in the background telling you she’s already doing make up for the night. Perfect.

“Yeah, listen, do you wanna go all out tonight?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Sara never turns you down. 

[i1f3klic]

Art in different ways

Klaus Mikaelson x Black Heretic

warnings: smut, kinda kidnapping, really flirty klaus , blowjob , backshots , anal , dom reader , (this reader got the gyat btw)

We found love by Rihanna blasts in the air. Pink bright dresses everywhere , the aesthetics went from chic , to hooker. Homecoming is tomorrow and I need to find the perfect dress. I look at every dress in the boutique. I finally find THE one. The dress is black and shimmering with glitter and at the bottom there's a small cutesy bow. I'm definitely going to eat up for prom. I take the dress up to the register and watch the cashier pack it up.

"Your going to do wonders for that dress" said a man with a deep british accent.

I turned to see a man with light brown hair, green eyes and a cheeky smile. He was mighty fine. "What's your name love"?" he asked. I tell him "Y/n Reid". He looks at me and examines my whole person. "Let's go for a chat"

He takes me back his house and shows me around. His house looks like a mansion. The architecture of it was made beautifully.

"I hope I don't have to take anyone's heart out for you" He says and laughs low. He looks to me and smiles , I smile back. This man was so fine and I'm in his house. He brings me to his art room, what really caught my eye was a drawing. It was a person hugging their knees and there were strings attached to them, with skulls surrounding it. It freaked me out at first but I somehow could decrypt what it meant.

He walked towards the table and took the drawing off it. "You like this ?" He asked. I shake my head yes and ask "What made you draw this" I look at him and in his eyes he looked really hurt like he was mentally in pain.

"A artist never shares their inspiration, someone might take it and twist it" He puts away the drawing and takes my hands and looks at me. His eyes are blue with a hint of green in them. "You're so beautiful Y/n" he says. I smile and it feels like I'm blushing. He raises his hand to caress his thumb on my cheek. He moves his other hand to the back of my neck and pulls me in. He kisses me.

His lips are so soft and they taste like faded cherry chapstick. His tongue and my tongue were fighting. He grabs my waist and I make my hands to the buckle of his zipper. He's rock solid, it feels like a hard ass brick. From that I could tell he was packing. I pull it out and his member shoots up to the sky. He leans back on a wall and I get on my knees.

I placed his cock in my mouth, my nose all on his groan. I motion my head back and forth. His dick had to be like 11/12 inches. Instead of a bbc he had a BWC. I look up to him and he's already looking down at me. He was admiring me. I smile at him and lick his tip. I kiss it and lick all around it. "Stop teasing love" he moans. I get back too it and the whole room sounds like someone is blowing in a ballon with a hole in it.

He grabs my head and starts fucking it. His thrusts are fast , it feels like sonic. He groans loudly, "I can't wait to fuck you" He nuts and I swallow , some of his cum dripped from my lips. I lick it up and he smiles. He grabs me and then grabs my ass gripping it. He speeds off really fast with me into his bedroom. It was literally sonic boom.

"You're a vampire" I say

"And your a heretic"

"You want too stop" he asks. I look at him, he had his shirt off. His pecs looked suckable. "Hell no" I said as I grabbed his face kissing him, I threw us on the bed. I put my hand on his abs, keeping him down. My super strength came in clutch. I climb on top of him and I put it in. I whisper in his ear, "You should've told me earlier , I could've showed you my tricks". He looks at me and whispers back. "I got a trick for you"

He turns us over and bends me down infront of him. He caresses his dick on my hole and puts it in there. His trusts start slow and he sped up after every shot. The room sounded like gunshots. I tried to control my moans but they were out of control. Klaus was moaning too, his sounds were so deep and sexy. My ears were in heaven. He grabs my waist and I feel it in my stomach.

We go on for like another hour or two. He finally nuts. We both fall back on the bed, my head is on his chest and his hand on my ass. "We should do this again" he said.

"I wouldn't pass on that"

[aquagirl1978]

Maybe, Someday - Yves Kloss x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Part of the Late Summer Rendezvous event hosted by @xxsycamore. A very late Happy Birthday to Yves! And a special gift to my very dear friend @maries-gallery.

Pairing: Yves Kloss x Reader

Prompt: picking swimwear together goes naughty

Word count: 1108

Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; oral sex (suitor receiving); reader is female-bodied but no pronouns used

“Let’s go to that one!” 

Hand in hand, Yves practically dragged you across the street when his eye caught the sign of a new clothing boutique. He had heard about it from people at the palace – they had said the clothes were chic and couture and that half of the store was pink – everything Yves could ever want from a clothing store.

A bell rang when he opened the door for you, signaling your arrival to the staff. Before you had time to pick your jaws from the ground, an attentive clerk was before you, welcoming you both to the boutique.

After sharing their name, and pointing out where the popular pieces were located, they turned and hurried off, leaving you to shop together undisturbed. You slowly made your way around the tables displaying impeccable items, occasionally stopping, your fingertips reaching out to feel soft velvet and plush cotton. 

“What do you think of these sunglasses?” you asked Yves, a pair of heart-shaped lenses perched on your face. “Are they me?”

He tilted his head, curious like a cat in thought. He turned and stepped away gracefully, your eyes admiring how his hips sashayed as he walked. He quickly returned with a big grin and a bigger hat – one that was pale pink with the widest, floppiest brim – and placed it atop your head. “Only if you pair it with this hat.” 

Yves smiled at you, serious for only a second before breaking out in laughter. You reached for each other's hands as you burst out in laughter, not needing a mirror to tell you how ridiculous you looked.

But something in your field of vision caught your eye, immediately putting a stop to your laughter.

“Yves,” you whispered excitedly, pointing towards a display behind him. “They have swimsuits.”

Yves turned around, glancing at the display of brightly colored, barely-there bikinis and swim trunks. “Indeed they do…”

“And don’t we have that upcoming trip to Benitoite?”

Yves' eyes widened as he realized what you were hinting at. “Yes, to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the King’s ascension to the throne.”

You bit your lip while staring into Yves’ deep sapphire blue eyes, hoping you won’t come off as too presumptuous with your next suggestion. 

“And you know what Benitoite is known for?” you asked, hoping Yves’ would follow your train of thought.

A pale pink blush painted the apples of his cheeks as he averted his gaze. His silence was all the answer you needed. 

******

“Yves, can you come in here?”

“What?” you heard him practically yelp. “You want me…where?”

“Yves, I’m not about to leave this fitting room dressed like this. This room is big enough for two.” When not a peep was heard from Yves, you continued. “Unless, that is, you want me to step out of this room for all to see me…”

Three, two, one – and the door to your fitting room was flung open. “No, I don’t want that –” Yves said as he closed the door behind him, his words escaping him as he caught sight of you.

Standing before him was a dazzling vision in pink, a feast for his eyes – and his eyes only. Standing before him was you – dressed in a two-piece swimsuit in the prettiest shade of petal pink, reminiscent of the roses of Rhodolite. Yves’ gaze was glued to your scantily clad figure, lingering on those especially private spots hidden by fabric.

“Haven't you ever wanted to….” you asked, taking a seductive step closer to Yves, looking up at him, batting your eyelashes, “in a dressing room? Or in public somewhere –”

Yves covered your mouth with his hand, stealing your chance to embarrass him any further. “Keep your voice down!” he whispered-shrieked, that familiar crimson blush returning to his cheeks. “Maybe, someday…I might have wanted to…” he stammered, each word struggling to leave his lips. He removed his hand from your mouth, only to be greeted with a sweet smile. 

“Are you satisfied now?”

“No, not at all,” you whispered as you dropped down to your knees. “These swim trunks seem a little tight on you.” 

Your eyes were locked on Yves’ as you traced the waistband of his swim trunks, a pleased smile adorned your face when he let out a soft gasp when you slipped your hand inside his waistband. 

“Yes, these are definitely too tight for you. Maybe if I….”

You kept your gaze fixed on his as you slowly pulled down his trunks, your fingers dragging against his soft skin as you pulled the material down his thighs and past his knees. 

“This is much better now,” you purred as you shifted your gaze from his face to his cock. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, his skin soft like velvet under your fingertips. With a few gentle squeezes, a drop of precum formed on the tip of his now-erect cock. 

You licked your lips, wanting a taste. Bringing  your face closer, close enough to breathe in his scent, your tongue darted out, his taste sweet on your tongue. 

“Delicious,” you whispered before sliding his cock into your mouth. Yves groaned softly as his hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently pressed your face closer to his heat.

A strangled moan laid dormant in your throat; any sounds you tried to make were muffled by the cock buried deep inside your mouth. Yves made up for your lack of noises – with every lick, came a soft purr-like moan. And for every inch of his cock you swallowed, came a gentle groan. 

It didn’t take long for Yves to come undone in the dressing room; he was already quite flustered when he entered and saw you barely dressed. His hips bucked as your head bobbed up and down his shaft, your tongue tracing the thick vein along the underside, your cheeks hollowed as you sucked his cock. 

Cupping his balls in one hand, you knew he was close when he held your face flush against his body. Breathing through your nose, a sweet warmth filled your mouth, trickling down your throat. When emptied, you removed his cock from your mouth with a pop, your tongue promptly licking his shaft, your lips placing gentle kisses on his tip.

When Yves was completely cleaned, you pulled his swim trunks up. Wordlessly, he offered you his hand to help you get up, a sheepish smile on his face. Pressing the palms of your hands to his chest, you brushed your lips against his in a chaste kiss.

“I hope you liked these bathing suits, because they’re ours now.”

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @maries-gallery @xbalayage

[conversationsofyou]

                Chapter One:

The Only Living Boy In New York

"Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world." 

~Marilyn Monroe

        

Song: Manhattan by Ella Fitzgerald & Buddy Bregman

Present day. 

The perfect ringlets that form naturally at the ends of Harry's hair, which were there this morning, have metamorphosed into effortless beachy waves most people envy. The usual result from Manhattan humidity and overly fussing about with his fingers. It's a shampoo commercial moment as it falls against his back.

Harry squeezes the bridge of his nose, a temporary relief from sinus pressure. "Are we done?" he asks with his eyes closed.

He wonders if Zayn would notice if he took a kip on the chaise by the toilets. 

                   

“Never,” Zayn responds whilst his nimble fingers sort through a display of Celine totes.

He would.

To Zayn's dismay, Harry's met his limit of consumerism for the day. He typically loves to shop; specifically when it's time to restock his art studio. Although, he's accustomed to leisurely drifting in and out of thrift shops and vintage boutiques. He allows clothing and accessories to find him. This… this has been an Olympic event. Zayn warned him beforehand that his rookie status wouldn't be tolerated today.  

After an extensive marathon of pampering and excess, Harry's eager to go home and decompress from their shopping extravaganza. He loves Zayn fiercely, but Harry's borderline fatigued. This is the sixth or tenth store they've been to; he's lost count. Each one, serving a different purpose. Zayn had to explain this to him, like he did at the last three stores. 

"This isn't one of your nifty thrifty's, darling. There's no one-stop shop for all our needs. Well, maybe Bergdorf's." 

A crash course in fashion's utility as such has been mentally and physically strenuous. If they’d concluded this field trip after facials at the spa and mimosa brunch, Harry’d be in complete nirvana.

However, the tranquil mood a much needed massage had granted him has now been replaced with extreme tension in his muscles. His sciatica keeps jolting his nerves into spasm and his toes are most definitely numb. He would've worn trainers instead of his beloved boots if he knew it was going to be this intense.

"It costs a lot to be this beautiful," Zayn throws some more fortune cookie wisdom his way as he picks up a Louis Vuitton bum bag. 

"I lost my soul somewhere between Mercer and Broome," he responds dryly.

"We can't all be as cool as you." 

“Matt got this shirt for me in Tokyo,” Harry tugs at the end of a vintage Queen t-shirt from the eighties. 

Zayn looks up at him and smiles softly. “He had the best finds. I know it's sentimental, but I also know for a fact that Matt would've told you to buy whatever the fuck you please after selling out your first exhibition. This is a triumph for you. You're allowed.”

"I've bought some things since then." 

"Interior design excluded." Zayn's mouth twitches. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry concedes. "So, what's on the menu here?" 

There's no other option than to swim with the current force that is Zayn.

He looks at Harry, contemplating his wardrobe journey. "This place has phenomenal denim…" He holds his hands in the air, scanning the store, like a director setting up their next frame. "Thinking of some new washes. You'd look fabulous in a mid-blue rinse." Zayn turns back to him and tilts his head. "There are other colors besides black." 

"What's wrong with black jeans?"

"Nothing. Doesn't mean you have to wear them every day. You're not Superman."

Harry arches an eyebrow. "Aren't I?" 

Zayn ignores him while admiring a Givenchy satchel. He adjusts the collar on his gorgeous Alexander McQueen gunmetal leather jacket. It's not nearly cold enough yet for the biker chic inspired hide, but as he declared before they left Harry's flat, “We must suffer for fashion the same way we do for art."

Zayn glances over at him. "I do adore your vintage, starving artist tees and ripped jeans." He offers some reassurance. "Even though you could do with a little glam rock." Though he often makes fun, Zayn's admitted in the past he approves of Harry's style choices. No matter how eccentric they are. His eyes land on Harry's boots. "Starting with those." 

Harry looks down at the worn out brown leather boots he found at one of the first thrift shops he visited in the city. He treasures them. They've given him so many miles. He'll never part with them.

He looks back up. "No." 

“Veronica!” Zayn calls out and, like a best laid plan, a tall sales associate appears with silky raven tresses styled into a long bob haircut. Veronica approaches them wearing a stunning bordeaux Bowie inspired jumpsuit. Lipstick the same shade. It captures Harry's eye instantly.

She walks over and magically produces a large box with the Saint Laurent Paris logo printed onto it. Ignoring the box, Harry scans the details of Veronica's ensemble as he admires her whole look.

Zayn catches Harry's eye and asks, "Who makes this?" As he brushes a finger over the fabric of her sleeve. 

"Custom," Veronica responds vaguely. 

It's unique and Harry can understand her discretion. 

"H, you'll sympathize as an artist. When anything innovative or gorgeous as this is mass produced, it usually turns to shit. There's something about a piece being one of a kind that's priceless."

Veronica nods her head once.

"I wouldn't share either." Zayn nods back and brings the focus back to Harry, who automatically shakes his head at the box he's holding.

Zayn clears his throat, ignoring his stubbornness and signals for the big reveal. Veronica lifts the lid and Harry swears a little golden light appears, leaving a glow shining from the box.

 

Zayn tilts the box closer to him for the full effect. "Harry, let me introduce you to your new friend, Chelsea."

He holds up the gorgeous, buttery tan suede heeled boots. "Classic and a forever staple." 

"My mother, grandmothers, and aunts all passed down their retail D.N.A. to me. These," he gestures to the boots, "are an investment." Zayn imparts some more wisdom.

Harry ignores his rising heart rate and briefly hesitates. Inevitably he gives in, running his fingers along the soft leather. The sensation is divine and smells heady in the best way possible. Boots have always been his weakness. He succumbs.

"Fine," he says like it's an imposition and grabs the boots. 

He sits down to try them on and takes off his old boots while placing the faded leather comrades next to a plush chair beside him. He's wearing his Hello Kitty socks today.

"Precious," Veronica comments and walks away towards another customer who's borderline distressed.

Song: Get On Your Boots by U2

Harry meticulously takes out all of the cardboard and packing paper. The boots slip on like a second skin. He stands up, beaming.

"Yeah. Thought so," he smirks. Zayn's super hero sixth sense always prevails. He knew Harry would eventually buckle for the gorgeous footwear.

Harry spins around in front of the mirror and does a little jig with his toes pointed.

Zayn shakes his head as he walks away. "I'm going to look for some jeans."

Harry gives him a salute and walks around the store, enjoying the boots that have already changed his life a little bit. They even have a slight heel. The soles produce a satisfying clacking sound against the stone floor as he strolls back to his old boots. They look so sad, slouching against the chair, out of shape and worn with holes. Harry frowns and picks them up. He knows it's corny but, "Still love you the best. Thank you for taking me where I needed to be," he says quietly.

Someone within his ear shot snorts, and he gently drops the boots. Harry looks up slightly embarrassed.

☆ This was definitely more than a snippet. A snip deluxe. I'd love to one day finish this fic I started seven years ago. All the inspo to my fellow writers and creators who have started something and life has gotten in the way or time is not of the essence. I empathize and relate on all levels.

Shout out to my Beta, Lau @nyxdaughterofkhaos , nothing but love and respect!!! Looking forward to continuing this journey with you ❤️

As always, if anyone has any art to share.

@kingsofeverything @crinkle-eyed-boo @twopoppies @beelou @fallinglikethis @femstyles @harryshandbag @andyouknowitis @lookslikefairytale @rhea-the-eradicator @toomanydreamers

[sofiaispunk]

dbf!Joel Miller x Reader - Part 4

a/n: This a shorter chapter, I apologize. Chapter 5 will be longer I promiseee. Hope you guys still enjoy it. love uuu

"So how was the fair yesterday, honey?" your mum asked you just as you closed the passenger door of the car.

"It was really fun, Mom," you replied, "Sarah and I rode so many rides and ate lots of junk food." You and your mum were on your way to the mall. It was a warm day and you were looking forward to find a new bikini since you left all of yours in your college dorm. Your mother had offered to come along to give her opinion and to be honest you were quiet excited to spend some quality time with her.

You drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes before your mother spoke up again. "So, how is Joel doing? Is he doing okay?" Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Joel. "Um, I guess he's doing alright," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Why do you ask?" "Well, I was just thinking about Thanksgiving dinner and how there seemed to be some tension between him and his wife," your mother said. "I hope everything is okay with them." You hesitated for a moment before replying. "Irene wasn't at the fair, if that's what you're wondering." "I see," your mother said. "Well, I never really liked her anyways. I always thought she was too high-strung for Joel." You stayed quiet, not knowing how to respond to your mother's comment but couldn't deny that there was some truth to it, though.

The pair of you strolled through the bustling mall, weaving in and out of stores. The air was heavy with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet confections from the nearby bakery. You couldn't help but admire the bright window displays showcasing the latest fashions and trendy accessories. As you passed by a chic boutique, your eyes immediately fell upon a lovely light blue blouse in the window display. "Mom, look at this blouse," you said, pointing towards it. "Isn't it beautiful?" Your mother's eyes lit up. "Oh, it's gorgeous! You should try it on." Inside the store, you slipped into the blouse and twirled around in front of the mirror. It was a perfect fit and the soft fabric felt lovely against your skin. Your mom beamed with pride, admiring you in the blouse.

You were just about to return to the fitting room, changing out of your new blouse when you caught a glimpse of someone familiar in the corner of your eye. You turned around to see Tommy browsing through some dresses a few racks away and he immediately caught your gaze. "Hey there," he said with a smile. "Tommy, hi!" you replied, trying to hide your surprise. "I'm shopping for a dress for Sarah's birthday party," he explained, holding up a pink dress with frills. "What do you think?" "It's cute," you said, still a bit flustered. As Tommy came closer to you, you couldn't help but notice how good he looked. His dark hair was perfectly styled and his dark brown eyes sparkled in the light. "And who's this lovely lady with you?" Tommy asked, turning to your mom. "Oh, I'm her mother," your mom said, extending her hand to shake his. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Tommy said, shaking her hand. "I'm Tommy, Joel's younger brother." "Joel's brother?" your mom repeated, looking intrigued. "Yes, that's right, that would be me. Many people are shocked to hear that I am his brother since we look nothing alike. I got the looks and he got the … well, the frown," Tommy winked. " I see, so you are the more modest Miller brother. Well, it's nice to meet you, Tommy." your mom teased with a smile, but clearly flustered by his charm. "Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime? Just the two of us?" Tommy asked as he turned to you, his eyes hopeful. "That sounds wonderful! She will gladly join you." Your mother replied, a little too euphorically, for you. You on the other hand felt a bit taken aback by his sudden request, but you didn’t want to be rude. "Uh, sure. That sounds nice," you replied hesitantly, with a polite smile. Tommy's grin widened, and he took out his phone to exchange numbers with you. "Great, I'll text you the details later."

"Well, he seems like a nice guy," your mother said as Tommy walked away. "Yeah, he's nice," you replied, still a feeling a little unessy from the encounter. "And handsome too," she added with a sly smile. You rolled your eyes. "Mom, stop." "What? I'm just saying," she said, still grinning. "I know, but it's not like that," you said, trying to keep the conversation light while making your way out towards the car. "Sure, sure," she teased, nudging you playfully. You laughed, shaking your head. "Whatever you say, Mom."

The rest of the day you couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty about going on a date with Tommy. He seemed nice enough, but your crush on Joel still lingered in your mind. You knew it was silly to have a crush on a married man who was much older than you, and even sillier to let this silly crush determine your date life but your heart didn't seem to understand that. Tommy, on the other hand, was closer to your age and, whats even more important, not married. But why didn't it feel right? Is it because it felt like a betrayal to Joel? Or was it because you didn't feel a spark with Tommy? Your thoughts had been cut short by your phone chiming, signalizing you got a new message.

UNKNOWN: Hey gorgeous, it's Tommy. Are you still up for that coffee? YOU: Hey Tommy, yeah I am. What time were you thinking? TOMMY: How about tomorrow evening? There's a little café near the park that I've been meaning to check out. YOU: 4 pm sounds good to you? What's the name of the coffee shop? TOMMY: Yes, 4 works just fine. It's called The Daily Grind. You'll love it, they have amazing cappuccinos. YOU: Sounds great, I'm looking forward to it. TOMMY: Me too. It’s a date then! TOMMY: Oh and wear that pretty new blouse ;)

You sighed, gently throwing your phone on your bed. You just hoped you won’t regret saying yes.

Part 5

[rullakebu]

The Fiendish Furrier 2: The Critic (F/M, tickling)

“Ugh, so boring,” Bruno burst out loud in disgust, scanning the screen before him.

…

Bruno Graham, a renowned yet infamous fashion critic in the city, had just heard word that some furrier had landed a major interview and a display of her new line of fur clothing in Vogue magazine. Bianca Nyberg, she was called. Having heard of her and seen some of her ads in the city, he had to check the section out.

The lean dark-skinned 32-year-old, sporting a well-groomed fade haircut, poured himself a glass of his favorite red wine and took a seat in his lofty office chair. The heavy rainfall poured against the massive windows of his penthouse, the loud sounding almost like drumming. The apartment offered a generous view of the city, its lights and neon signs illuminating some of the pitch-black midnight horizon.

“Let’s see, then…” Bruno thought to himself, pressing the power button of his computer.

The screen lit up and Bruno quickly surfed his way onto Vogue’s website, the white simplistic design along with the black logo lit up the dim room. The interview was on the frontpage, conveniently. “Fluff overload: Meet the furrier making waves in the fashion community,” the article heading read.

“Heh, big promises,” Bruno uttered, taking a sip out of his glass, twirling it and the wine swirling inside.

Click.

Displayed on Bruno’s bright screen was now a picture of a Nordic looking lady with platinum dyed hair in a shag cut. Her blue eyes were piercing, almost hypnotizing. For the photo she had chosen an all-black ensemble, consisting of a black sweater and a long leather skirt. Draped on her shoulders was a long black fox fur stole, flowing down and adding a touch of opulence to her outfit. Her lips were a bright shade of red and her nails were black and long. Her appearance dripped with elegance and sophistication.

“Meet Bianca Nyberg, the 46-year-old furrier from New Helsing. Known for her exquisite craftsmanship and eye for luxury, Bianca has made a name for herself in the world of high-end fashion. Her boutique, nestled in the heart of New Helsing's chic fashion district, is a haven for those seeking unique and meticulously crafted fur pieces,” the article read.

“Is that so? I’m not impressed just yet.” Bruno thought to himself, sipping the red wine.

“Bianca's journey into the world of fur began at a young age, influenced by her family's long-standing tradition in the trade. Over the years, she honed her skills, combining traditional techniques with contemporary designs.”

As Bruno scrolled through the article, a GIF of Bianca Nyberg played seamlessly, adding a dynamic element to the feature. Bianca gracefully lifts the luxurious black fox fur stole from her shoulders. With elegance, she brings the stole closer to the camera, its plush texture becoming more prominent with each frame. The soft fur envelops the lens, momentarily obscuring the view and creating an intimate, almost teasing experience.

“Bianca’s clientele includes a mix of local celebrities, fashion enthusiasts, and influential people who appreciate the artistry and timeless elegance of her creations. Beyond her boutique, she is also a vocal advocate for animal welfare, actively promoting and supporting sustainable fur practices within the industry. Bianca Nyberg is not just a designer; she is a visionary, continuously pushing the boundaries of fashion while maintaining a deep respect for tradition.”

“Ehh, whatever. Let’s see the line,” Bruno decided.

He scrolled down the long walls of text, looking for the photos of the new line. His eyes skimmed over the detailed descriptions and interviews, eager to catch a glimpse of Bianca Nyberg's latest creations. As he neared the end of the article, his anticipation grew. Finally, he reached the photo gallery showcasing the new line.

The first image was a stunning full-length finn raccoon fur coat in a deep emerald green, the plush material glistening under the studio lights. The model's elegant pose highlighted the coat's tailored fit and luxurious texture.

The next photo featured a sophisticated jacket with a modern twist—an asymmetrical cut and a mix of black leather and silver fox fur. The jacket exuded a contemporary edge while maintaining an air of classic refinement.

A series of images followed, displaying a variety of fur stoles in vibrant colors and unique patterns. One stole, in particular, stood out—a deep burgundy piece adorned with intricate golden highlighting on the fur, draped elegantly over the shoulders of the model.

In another striking shot, a model wore a sleek leather skirt with a fur hem, paired with a cozy fur-lined sweater. The combination of materials and textures created a harmonious and stylish ensemble.

The final photo was a group shot of models showcasing an array of accessories: fur hats, gloves, and handbags, each piece meticulously designed and crafted. The diversity in the collection was evident, with every item reflecting Bianca's signature blend of tradition and modernity.

Bruno would disagree, however. “Really? All this talk over this? Nothing new, nothing revolutionary, nothing special. These are like any other fur clothes. Not only that but fur is steadily going out of style,” Bruno thought as he leaned back in his chair with a visible expression of disapproval spread across his face.

He leaned back in, taking time to analyze every single piece with precision. “Ugh, so boring,” Bruno burst out loud in disgust, scanning the screen before him. He furrowed his brows, tapping his pen against the desk as he dissected the collection, unable to hide his disappointment. To him, the designs felt uninspired and lacked the innovation he had hoped for in the latest fashion trends.

Bruno quickly opened Word, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he prepared to voice his opinion on his popular blog. The familiar blank document seemed to invite his thoughts, and he started typing with a mixture of frustration and urgency.

Scrolling through Bianca Nyberg's new fur collection, I was struck by a profound sense of disappointment. Despite the considerable buzz, this collection fails to deliver anything remotely groundbreaking or noteworthy. Here’s a closer look at why this line falls short:

The first piece, a deep emerald Finn raccoon fur coat, is more about flashy materials than original design. The classic cut and color feel outdated.

The asymmetrical jacket with black leather and silver fox fur attempts a modern twist but ends up being a predictable blend of old and new with no real edge.

The fur stoles, including one deep burgundy with golden highlights, are meticulously crafted but fail to stand out. They feel like tired repeats rather than fresh ideas.

A model’s outfit featuring a leather skirt with a fur hem and a fur-lined sweater is similarly uninspired—just another safe, predictable mix of materials.

Finally, the accessories—fur hats, gloves, and handbags—are well-made but lack originality. The entire collection feels like an exercise in playing it safe rather than pushing any boundaries.

In summary, Nyberg’s new line is a disappointing showcase of missed opportunities. It fails to offer anything new or exciting in a rapidly evolving fashion world.

As soon as he had published the disheartening post, Bruno let out a deep sigh and closed his computer. He leaned back in his chair, the weight of his critique settling in. The quiet of the room enveloped him, offering a brief moment of reflection. The harshness of his words lingered in his mind, but he knew it was part of his role to be honest and critical. On top of that he had a reputation to uphold.

With a final glance at the still screen, Bruno shut off the light and headed to bed. The night ahead was filled with restless thoughts, but as he drifted into sleep, he hoped that his words, though stern, would serve as a catalyst for change and improvement in the fashion world.

“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” The alarm clock screamed, pulling Bruno from his slumber. Groggily, he silenced the alarm and dragged himself out of bed. After a quick brush of his teeth, he shuffled into the kitchen, where he poured himself a strong cup of coffee.

As he sipped his coffee and glanced at his phone, he noticed an influx of notifications. With a sense of anticipation, he opened his blog and saw that his latest post had taken off. The comment section was buzzing with readers’ reactions, and the post had quickly gained traction across social media.

Bruno’s eyes widened as he saw the surge in traffic and engagement. His critique was sparking lively discussions, with readers both agreeing and disagreeing, and his blog was being shared widely. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of satisfaction and nervousness as he delved into the feedback, eager to see how his words were resonating with his audience.

As Bruno continued to review the flood of comments and social media interactions, he noticed his email inbox was similarly inundated. Amid the sea of messages, one sender stood out: Bianca Nyberg.

His heart raced as he clicked on the email from the renowned fashion designer. The subject line read, “Response to Your Review.” Bruno opened the email with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Subject: Response to Your Review

Dear Mr. Graham,

I’ve read your review of my latest collection with great interest. Your feedback, though candid and critical, is invaluable. I appreciate your honesty and the points you’ve raised about my designs. Constructive criticism is essential in our industry, and I’m taking your comments to heart.

I would like to invite you to dinner at my house for a deeper discussion on my work and future directions. Perhaps a face-to-face conversation could offer more insight into the creative process behind the collection and allow us to address your concerns directly.

Looking forward to your response.

Best regards, Bianca Nyberg

Bruno reread the email, absorbing the invitation and Bianca’s thoughtful tone. He felt a surge of excitement and nervousness, knowing this could be an opportunity to engage in a meaningful dialogue and perhaps gain a new perspective on the designer’s work.

He accepted.

Bruno arrived at Bianca Nyberg’s elegant home at the outskirts of New Helsing, a sense of anticipation mingling with his nerves. The evening air was crisp, and the soft glow of the setting sun bathed the city in a warm, golden light. He rang the doorbell and, after a moment, was greeted by Bianca herself.

“Welcome, Bruno,” she greeted with a gracious smile, dressed in a black sweater, skirt, and stole that mirrored the ensemble from the magazine photos. “I’m so glad you could make it. Please, come in.”

Her home was a testament to her refined taste, blending modern art with classic furnishings. Bruno admired the carefully curated pieces as he followed Bianca into the dining area. The room was elegantly set with a sleek black tablecloth, surrounded by high-backed chairs. A tasteful arrangement of fresh flowers served as the centerpiece, adding a vibrant touch to the sophisticated setting.

As they settled into their seats and Bianca’s maid Marie brought out their meals, the tone of their meeting took a serious turn. Bianca leaned forward slightly, her expression thoughtful but tinged with frustration.

“Bruno,” she began, her tone measured, “I want to thank you again for coming and for your candid feedback. I must admit, I was quite taken aback by your review. I respect your role as a critic, but I was hoping for a more nuanced understanding of my work.”

She took a sip of her wine, then continued, “I put a lot of effort into this collection, trying to balance tradition with innovation and address modern concerns. It’s disheartening to hear that it felt so uninspired to you. And honestly, I’d like you to consider the possibility of deleting that review.”

Bruno’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, feeling the weight of her request. “I understand where you’re coming from, Bianca,” he said carefully. “But my intention was and is to provide honest feedback.”

Bianca sighed, her expression growing more serious. “I appreciate your honesty, but the review is causing real damage to my reputation and my business. In the fashion industry, perceptions can be everything. Negative reviews can deter potential clients and partners, and the impact on my brand could be significant.”

Bruno met her gaze steadily, his resolve firm. “I understand the challenges you’re facing and the impact my review might have. However, my role as a critic is to provide honest assessments. It’s important for my readers and for the industry that I remain transparent and fair in my evaluations.”

Bianca leaned in, her tone becoming more suggestive. “I see where you’re coming from, Bruno. But you know, opinions can change, especially when given the right perspective. I’m sure there’s a lot more to explore in the world of fashion. Sometimes, it takes just a bit more time to fully appreciate the intricacies.”

With a light chuckle, Bianca stood up, her demeanor shifting to a playful and inviting tone. “But enough about business for now. How about I show you around? Just for fun. I’d love for you to see a bit more of what makes this place special.”

Bruno raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sure, I’d love to see more.”

Bianca took a firm hold of his hand, guiding him with a sense of enthusiasm as she led him through her lavish estate. The warmth of her grip and the confident way she moved added a personal touch to the tour, making Bruno feel welcomed and curious about the spaces they were about to explore.

They walked through a grand hallway first, the same one she had led Denis down some time ago, lined with elegantly framed paintings. Bianca paused at each portrait, explaining the significance of her family lineage. This is my great-grandmother," she said, pointing to a striking portrait. "She was a pioneer in her own right, and I like to think some of her creativity lives on in my work."

She picked up her fur stole and adjusted it on her shoulders, the luxurious hairs catching the light. She moved closer to Bruno, her eyes locking onto his with a new intensity. "You know, Bruno," she said softly, letting the stole brush against his cheek, "there's so much more to fashion than just what meets the eye. Sometimes, it’s about how it makes you feel."

The caress of the fur against his skin sent a shiver down Bruno's spine. He felt the unspoken tension in the air, a mix of seduction and subtle persuasion. Bianca's attempt to sway him was clear, but he remained composed, aware of the complexities of their interaction.

"Fashion is indeed powerful," Bruno replied, his voice steady. "It can evoke strong emotions and create lasting impressions."

Bianca smiled, her eyes still locked on his. "Exactly. And I hope, in time, you'll come to see my work in a new light."

As the tour continued, Bianca led Bruno upstairs, their steps echoing softly through the elegant hallways. The walls were adorned with more portraits and tasteful art pieces, each carefully selected to complement the overall aesthetic of the estate. The air seemed to grow thicker with a mix of anticipation and curiosity as they approached a set of double doors. With a slight pause, Bianca turned to Bruno, a subtle smile playing on her lips. She pushed open the doors, revealing a spacious and exquisitely decorated bedroom, once the chamber of torment for one Denis Marsalis.

The room featured plush velvet furnishings that exuded comfort and elegance. Delicate lace curtains draped gracefully around the large windows, allowing soft, filtered light to seep into the room. Dominating the space was a king-sized bed, lavishly dressed in fur sheets and adorned with an array of fluffy pillows, promising an indulgent retreat.

The most striking feature, however, was the walls, which were entirely covered in rich wine-red fur. This unconventional choice created an atmosphere of opulent extravagance, enveloping the room in a warm, tactile embrace. The fur's soft, velvety texture not only added a unique visual appeal but also invited a sense of touch, making the space feel both sumptuous and inviting.

“Wow, that wall sure looks sensual…” Bruno uttered, his voice tinged with awe and curiosity. The unexpected richness of the fur-covered walls had captivated him, drawing his attention more than any other detail in the room

“I’m a very sensual person, Bruno…” Bianca said, closing in next to his ear. “Now that we’re here, I’d like to confess something. I like you, Bruno. Remember what I said about how fashion makes you feel? I meant that literally… and I’d like to explore… with you,” Bianca said, brushing the stole against his hot red cheek.

Bruno gulped, but he couldn’t deny the allure Bianca had on him. Her presence, the room's opulent setting, and the intimate atmosphere she had crafted all combined to pull him into her world, making it nearly impossible to resist her bold invitation.

As he stared into Bianca’s piercing blue eyes, he felt himself being drawn in further. She stepped closer, her heels clicking loudly with each step. Bianca began to guide him towards the fur-covered wall. Her touch was firm yet gentle, sliding from his chest down to his wrists. With a subtle but commanding grace, she lifted his hands, pressing them against the plush, velvety fur, then…

Click.

Bruno’s hands were firmly secured in place by hidden shackles on the wall. He looked up in surprise, the initial shock of the metallic snap giving way to a mix of confusion and realization. “What?!”

Bianca’s smile widened as she let out a low, soft giggle. Her eyes danced with mischief and anticipation as she reached into a nearby nightdrawer and retrieved a pair of scissors. With a practiced hand, she began to cut away his clothes, her movements precise and controlled. The sound of the fabric ripping and the feel of the cool metal against his skin added to the intense atmosphere of the room.

“What do you think you’re doing? This suit cost 4,000 dollars! Let me go!” Bruno yelled out, enraged by his unexpected predicament.

Bianca paused for a moment, looking up at him with a calm, almost amused expression. "Oh, Bruno," she said softly, continuing to cut away at his suit. "Consider it a small price to pay for a new perspective." The fabric continued to fall away, piece by piece, as she worked with a quiet, determined focus.

“A new perspective?! What on Earth are you talking about?!” Bruno questioned, his voice a mix of anger and confusion.

Bianca looked up again, her eyes locking onto his with an intense, almost hypnotic gaze. "Sometimes," she began, her voice smooth and controlled, "you need to break away from the norm to truly understand something. To appreciate the texture, the experience, the sensation." She continued cutting, the scissors moving effortlessly through the fabric. “And sensations are exactly the topic which I’m going to educate you on, Bruno…”

Bianca cut every inch of Bruno’s designer suit off and tossed it aside, leaving him completely exposed. Bruno felt the cold breeze on his skin, sending a shiver through his body, and the plush fur of the wall caressed his back, its soft texture a stark contrast to the intensity of the situation.

Bianca adjusted the fur stole, draping it elegantly over her shoulders like a loose scarf. Slowly, she turned her gaze back to Bruno, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of dominance and curiosity. She began to walk towards him, her heels clicking menacingly with each step, the sound echoing through the room like a countdown.

As she got closer, she raised her hands, her fingers wiggling as if ready to touch him. The air between them crackled with tension, a palpable mix of power and vulnerability. Bruno’s heart raced, his mind struggling to process the surreal intensity of the moment.

And then, when her nails finally met the exposed skin on his sides, a sharp sensation shot through him. Bianca's touch was both electrifying and unnerving, her nails tracing slow, deliberate lines along his ribs. Bruno’s fate was sealed. He was no longer just a critic observing from the outside—he was now completely entangled in her world: a world of tickle torture.

“WHAHAHAHAHAT AHAHAHAHARE YOU DOIHIHIHIHIHIHNG?” Bruno exclaimed, his voice breaking into uncontrollable laughter, completely taken aback by the unexpected attack.

“Tickling you. Isn’t it obvious, Bruno?” Bianca replied with a sly smile, her fingers dancing across his skin with precision. “I told you I like to explore… and I think you’re going to learn to appreciate my work as well.”

Bruno twitched and squirmed in his binds, his body instinctively trying to escape the relentless tickling. Each movement made the soft fur on the wall brush against his back, heightening the sensation and adding another layer of stimulation.

“HNNGH, FORGEHEHEHEHEHET IT! YOU’REHEHEHEHEHE DOHOHOHONE!” he managed to shout between gasps of laughter, his voice a mix of defiance and desperation. But his protests only seemed to encourage Bianca, who continued her playful assault with a mischievous grin.

“You’ll find that I can be quite persuasive, Bruno…” Bianca purred, her voice dripping with a mix of seduction and control. She stepped in closer, the soft fur stole pressing against his chest. Her nails continued their slow, torturous journey, traversing down to his twitching hips, each touch sending jolts of electricity through his body. “I’m quite the tickler, sweetheart.”

Bruno’s laughter became uncontrollable, his body betraying him as it quivered under her touch. The combination of her seductive tone and the relentless tickling was overwhelming, breaking down his defenses with each passing second. His mind raced, but his body was lost in the sensation, every nerve alight with the duality of pleasure and torment. Bianca’s grin widened as she watched him struggle, knowing she had him completely under her control.

“Tickle, tickle~”

Those words. Those damn words. Those words, spoken so sweetly, echoed in Bruno’s mind, amplifying his helplessness. Each syllable seemed to intensify the sensation, as if Bianca’s voice itself was a tool of torment.

“You have no idea how much I like tickling… how much I like tickling you, Bruno.” Bianca’s voice was honeyed, dripping with amusement and something darker. “I see you trying to make sense of it all, but you can’t, can you? You’re confused, perplexed…” She leaned in even closer, her breath warm against his ear, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a chill through him. “And scared…”

Bruno’s breath came in ragged gasps, his laughter finally tapering off into exhausted panting. The intensity of her touch and the weight of her words had left him disoriented.

“But don’t you worry. I will take such good care of you, Coochie coochie coo,” she said softly, planting a kiss on his cheek before stepping away. The warmth of her kiss contrasted sharply with the coldness of his situation. She moved toward her closet, her heels clicking against the floor with every step.

“Now…” Bianca began, reaching for something inside the closet. She pulled out the deep emerald green finn raccoon fur coat. “Remember this? Remember what you said? ‘The first piece, a deep emerald Finn raccoon fur coat, is more about flashy materials than original design. The classic cut and color feel outdated.’ Hmpf.” Bianca mimicked in a mocking masculine tone, whilst rolling her eyes.

“I pant stand pant by pant what pant I said,” Bruno replied, his voice shaky as he struggled to maintain composure. The coat's opulence seemed almost to taunt him now, its richness a stark contrast to his current predicament.

Bianca threw her black stole onto the bed and reached into the closet once more. This time, she pulled out the burgundy fur stole with golden highlights, her movements deliberate and theatrical. “Remember this?” she said, draping the stole over her shoulders, layering it atop the deep emerald green coat. “You said: ‘The fur stoles, including one deep burgundy with golden highlights, are meticulously crafted but fail to stand out. They feel like tired repeats rather than fresh ideas.’ Blah blah blah.”

With a slow, deliberate grace, she walked back towards Bruno. The sight of her, adorned in the lush green coat and the vibrant reddish stole, gave her an almost mythical presence. She looked like a glamorous, fluffy, tickle-torturing version of Poison Ivy, her elegant attire contrasted sharply with the intense situation.

The rich textures of her outfit seemed to amplify the tension in the room, creating an almost surreal atmosphere as she approached Bruno, who was now visibly sweating and nervous, his earlier bravado completely gone.

Bianca’s movement was menacing yet elegant as she stopped abruptly at her bed. She knelt down and reached beneath it, pulling out two boxes with an air of anticipation. The soft rustle of the boxes being dragged out created a subtle yet charged sound, adding to the heightened atmosphere in the room.

One box was plain and unadorned, its simplicity a stark contrast to the other. The second box, however, was ornate, its surface richly adorned with intricate patterns and delicate filigree: The Fluff Box. The contrast between the two boxes hinted at the possibility of something both intriguing and mysterious awaiting inside.

Bianca picked up the two boxes and set them beside Bruno with a measured movement. The plain box landed with a soft thud, while the ornate box made a more pronounced sound as it settled onto the floor. She stood up, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and authority as she glanced at Bruno.

She opened the ornate box. “Now, Bruno,” she said with a teasing smile, “let’s see which one you find more... appealing.”

Bruno’s eyes widened with curiosity and a hint of anxiety as Bianca’s hand reached into the box. She lifted up a large, luxurious powder brush with a handle adorned in intricate patterns. The bristles were soft and fluffy, casting a gentle sheen in the room’s light. Alongside it, she pulled out a bundle of feathers attached to an ornate stick, which resembled an exaggerated feather tickler toy.

“I wonder which one you would like to be tickled with…” She twirled the powder brush lightly, letting its bristles sway in the air, and then waved the bundle of feathers playfully.

Bruno’s eyes flickered between the two, his breathing quickening as he felt the tension rise. “T-the brush,” he stammered, a mix of apprehension and curiosity in his voice.

“Alright,” she said, her voice soft but laced with a playful edge. “But don’t think for a second you’re exempt from the other one, my ticklish little critic…”

With a teasing smirk, she set the feather bundle aside. The bristles felt almost too soft to be real as she gently brushed it against her palm, letting the anticipation build. Bruno’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he watched her movements.

“What’s in the other box?” Bruno asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Bianca’s eyes gleamed with playful mystery as she replied, “You’ll find out soon enough.” She then shifted her focus back to the powder brush, her tone taking on a blend of menace and indulgent affection. “Ready for your brush tickling?”

As she stepped closer, Bruno’s heart pounded in his chest. The bristles of the brush hovered just above his skin, their soft promise mingling with the room's charged atmosphere. Bianca leaned in, lifting the brush slowly and inching it towards his right wrist. Her head was just by his ear, and she blew gently, sending tingles down his spine. The fur of the coat and stole brushed against his chest, while the plush fur on the wall caressed his back. He was squished in between a fluffy cocoon of furs.

Her lips brushed against his ear, sending a bolt of anticipation through him. “Tickle, tickle, Bruno…” she whispered softly.

The brush began its delicate descent from his wrist down his arm, the bristles soft yet tantalizingly ticklish against his skin. Bruno could barely focus on the sensation before Bianca's left hand moved with swift precision, her nails striking into his armpit. The contrast between the gentle brushing and the sudden, sharp tickling sent a signal of ticklish alert to his brain.

“OH GAHAHAHAHAHAD!” Bruno cried out, his voice cracking between fits of uncontrollable laughter. He couldn’t help himself; the sensation was too intense, too overwhelming. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire as Bianca’s relentless tickling pushed him to his limits.

“You’re so sensitive, Bruno,” Bianca purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she watched him squirm helplessly against the plush fur and her ticklish ministrations. “Do you like being tickled?”

The soft brush traveled down his arms, over his chest, and back up his other arm, each stroke sending a new wave of tingling sensations through his body. Bruno’s laughter echoed through the room, his voice broken and breathless as he tried in vain to resist the overwhelming ticklishness.

“I like tickling you, Bruno. I like how you squirm and laugh and you can’t resist, can you? No matter how much you want to.” Her nails lightly trailed down his side, just enough to keep him on edge.

Bianca let out a sultry giggle as she brought the big brush to Bruno’s face. With a teasing flick, she brushed it lightly against his nose, causing it to twitch involuntarily. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she traced the bristles along his jawline, the tickling sensation making him squirm even more.

Bruno’s laughter was uncontrollable, his head twisting in a futile attempt to escape the relentless tickling. The brush then moved to his ears, the soft bristles grazing the sensitive skin on each side, driving him wild with the ticklish torment.

“Does my big fluffy brush tickle?” Bianca cooed. “I love how you laugh for me. It tells me just how much it tickles. You don’t have to say a word.” She moved the brush down his neck and twirled the brush lightly over his nipples, before trailing down. “I know it tickles…”

When the brush began to traverse down his right side, Bruno’s anticipation grew. He tensed as it stopped just above his exposed manhood, his breath catching in his throat. But before he could brace himself, Bianca’s nails struck his left side, eliciting another burst of uncontrollable laughter.

Then Bianca knelt down, her eyes glinting with mischief as she brushed lightly around his most sensitive area, her touch deliberate and teasing. The delicate bristles barely grazed his skin, yet the sensation was enough to send shockwaves of ticklish torment through his entire body, leaving him utterly at her mercy.

Bianca’s voice was a sultry murmur, filled with a mix of dominance and satisfaction. “It must be agony,” she continued, her tone smooth and seductive. She gently circled the fluffy brush around his sensitive area, her movements precise and teasing. “The never-ending intense tingling sensation all over your body. The way your vulnerable spots are exploited like this. The way you’re forced to laugh until your lungs ache.”

She watched him with a smirk as he writhed under her touch, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and control. “The overwhelming, tantalizing tickle torture…” she purred, each word emphasizing the cruel pleasure she derived from his helplessness.

Bruno’s cock began to twitch slightly in response to the ticklish brushing. Bianca noticed the slight twitch in Bruno’s crotch, her smirk widening as she continued her tantalizing torture. “Yet, I find that you’re enjoying this more than you let on,” she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Typical.”

Bianca rose gracefully from her position, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and anticipation. She walked back over to The Fluff Box, where she picked up the large feather tickler she had set aside earlier. The feathered bundle, now even more tantalizing in the context of the ongoing play, promised a new layer of sensation.

She turned back towards Bruno with a sly smile, the feather tickler held confidently in her hand. “Now that we’ve explored the brush, let’s see how you handle this,” she said, her voice tinged with playful menace. The feathers fluttered gently as she moved, casting a light, teasing shadow across his exposed body.

With deliberate slowness, Bianca approached him, the feather tickler poised to add a fresh dimension to his ticklish ordeal. She gently caressed his cheek, her touch soft and teasing. As she leaned in, her fingers tickled lightly under his chin, sending delicate, tantalizing sensations across his skin.

Whispering in his ear, her voice a velvety mix of seduction and control, she murmured, “It’s going to tickle. The feathers softly dragging on you, leaving tingly whispers of tickling on your skin.” The gentle promise of the feather tickler was almost as torturous as the anticipation itself. She positioned the tickler near his exposed skin, the delicate feathers poised to begin their torment.

“N-no… please…” Bruno whimpered, pleading her not to torture him again.

“Aww,” Bianca cooed, before caressing his cheek again. She moved from his side to a position in front of him. “I’m sorry but…”

Bruno stared deeply into Bianca’s piercing blue eyes.

“I’m going to tickle you.”

The feather tickler made its first contact, brushing gently against his inner thighs, and the sensation was immediate. The soft, teasing feathers danced along his sensitive skin, forcing him to laugh and moan in his fluffy binding. Each light touch of the feathers against his inner thighs ignited a fresh wave of ticklish torment, making him writhe and squirm against the fur wall.

Bianca’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she observed his reactions. She gently moved the tickler up and down his inner thighs, varying the pressure and speed to keep him on edge. Bruno’s cock began to react quickly, rising into a full erection before long.

Bianca lifted the tickler, allowing it to rest between her thumb and index finger as she shifted her attention to his armpits. Her fingers danced with masterful precision, scribbling her nails in the sensitive hollows. The sudden shift from the soft, teasing feathers to the sharp, intense tickling of her nails created a jarring contrast, amplifying the torment.

Bruno’s laughter erupted into desperate, uncontrollable guffaws, the combination of the sharp tickling and the lingering sensation from the feathers leaving him overwhelmed. He much preferred the soft, teasing and gentle tickling of the feather tickler to her scribbling.

“Do you want the feathers back?” Bianca asked, having knowingly lifted the feathers from his manhood to tease him and leave him craving for the more bearable form of tickle torture.

“YEHEHEHEHES! PLEAHAHAHAHASE!” He begged in between his ticklish laughter.

“Then say it. Say you want me to tickle you with my feathers,” Bianca demanded, her eyes squinting in mischief.

“PLEAHAHAHAHASE! TICKLE ME WITH YOUR FEATHEHEHEHEHERS!” Bruno cried out, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep his composure amidst the relentless tickling. His laughter was a desperate plea, a mix of embarrassment and relief as he eagerly awaited the return of the gentler form of torment.

“Aww, of course, tickle boy,” Bianca’s smirk widened, clearly pleased with his submission. She let the feathers descend back to his sensitive skin, their soft touch meeting his needy twitching manhood, resuming the teasing strokes that made him laugh and moan uncontrollably.

The feathers fluttered up and down his shaft, tickling his sensitive skin. Bianca momentarily paused at his tip, giving him a quick flurry of feathery tickles. Her spidering nails met his quivering stomach, forcing the balance of laughter and moaning to tip in favor of helpless giggling.

Pre-cum oozed from his throbbing penis, as Bianca began to twirl the feather tickler on his balls and reaching for under, tickling his taint. He jolted as the soft feathers met the sensitive skin behind his balls. Bianca giggled in response, making sure to properly tickle him and providing long, teasing, ticklish strokes.

Bianca took a moment to relish Bruno’s relieved laughter before gracefully moving towards the plain box. Her heels clicked softly on the floor as she approached, creating a stark contrast to the earlier chaos.

With calmness, she lifted the lid, revealing the contents inside. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of anticipation and satisfaction as she glanced back at Bruno, whose curiosity and exhaustion were palpable. She lifted up a massive fur mitten and placed it on her right hand. “Remember? ‘Finally, the accessories—fur hats, gloves, and handbags—are well-made but lack originality. The entire collection feels like an exercise in playing it safe rather than pushing any boundaries.’ Remember?”

Bruno’s pleas reached her ears, a mix of desperation and desire in his voice. “I-I-I’m sorry. Please let me cum…”

Bianca’s smirk softened into a more contemplative expression. “You know, I think you might have learned something today. But I’m not quite done yet.” She positioned the fur mitten near his sensitive areas, her movements deliberate and slow.

The fur mitten hovered near his sensitive areas, its soft texture promising a new kind of soft sensation. Bianca gently grabbed his cock into the fluffy embrace of her fur mitten. The soft fox fur enveloped his throbbing manhood, covering it in a warm, comforting and pleasurable cocoon. Gently she began to flick her wrist, caressing the fur up and down his sensitive privates.

Bruno began to moan, the fur feeling so good after the tickle torturing of his life. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, as Bianca’s fluffy hand stroked him. He felt the fur caress back and forth. Every single hair, every single strand of fur trailed on his sensitive skin, tickling him ever so slightly yet pleasurably.

As Bruno began to savor the soft, luxurious sensation of the fur job, his body tensed in anticipation of what was to come next. The gentle tickling was soothing in its own way, but suddenly, he felt a new wave of sensations.

Bianca’s fingers began their intricate dance, spidering lightly across his armpits. The touch was both delicate and insistent, creating a contrast with the fur mitten’s plush caress. Her fingers moved methodically, tracing a path down his sides and to his hips, before climbing back up his torso.

Bianca’s tone was firm but laced with a lingering trace of amusement as she spoke. “I said I’m not done yet,” she stated, her eyes gleaming with a mix of authority and playful intent.

As her fingers resumed their intricate dance, traversing from his armpits to his sides and hips, the tickling became a complex interplay of sensations. The fur mitten’s caress complemented her skilled fingers, creating a relentless and tantalizing experience for Bruno. His laughter, now a mix of desperation and reluctant enjoyment, filled the room as he struggled against his bonds.

Bianca’s eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and authority. “Repeat after me and I’ll let you cum,” she bargained, her tone a mix of seduction and control. She leaned closer, her breath warm against Bruno’s ear as she prepared to make her demands. “I love getting tickled by you, Ms. Nyberg.”

With a strained voice, he finally gasped, “I LOVEHEHEHE GEHEHETTING TICKLEHEHEHED BY YOU, MS. NYBEHEHEHEHERG!”

“Am I the meanest and sexiest tickler you’ll ever have, Mr. Graham?” she asked, her tone both commanding and playful.

Bruno, breathless and overwhelmed, finally managed to gasp out, “Y-YES, MS. NYBERG! YOU’RE THE MEANEHEHEHEHEST AND SEXIEST TICKLER I’VE EVER HAHAHAHAHAD!”

“Is my tickling intense and addictive, leaving you begging for more?” she asked, her tone both commanding and seductive.

Bruno, still gasping for breath, managed to shout out in all caps, “YES! YOUR TICKLING IS INTENSE AND ADDICTIVE! I CAN’T GET ENOUGH!”

“Am I the best furrier? Are my furs the most elegant and the softest? Will you remove your review and write a follow-up praising me?” she asked, her tone leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.

Bruno, caught in the whirlwind of ticklish torment and fluffy pleasure, could only respond in a breathless plea, “YES! YOU’RE THE BEST FURRIER! YOUR FURS ARE THE MOST ELEGANT AND SOFTEST! I’LL REMOVE MY REVIEW AND WRITE A FOLLOW-UP PRAISING YOU!”

Bianca’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she heard Bruno’s plea. She paused her tickling, allowing him to catch his breath, continuing to gently stroke him with the massive fur mitten, a soothing contrast to the earlier intense sensations.

With a soft, triumphant smile, she leaned in close, her voice a whisper filled with both dominance and affection. “Good boy. I’m glad you’ve come to appreciate the art of tickling and the elegance of my furs.”

Bruno began to feel his orgasm building up as Bianca flicked her wrist slightly faster now, pleasuring him increasingly. She began to blow gently into his ears, adding another teasy pleasurable sensation to his fur job. Bruno scrunched his neck in response.

Bianca smiled warmly as she continued her gentle strokes. “I really liked tickling you, Mr. Graham. I’ve teased lots of ticklish guys, but you’re one of the most memorable. Your laughter was music to my ears.” She kissed his cheek. “And you liked being tickled by me, didn’t you?”

Bruno looked down and moaned, as he watched Bianca work her fluffy magic on his throbbing manhood. He nodded in response to Bianca’s teasy words. Bruno took all the pleasure in, watching the mitten glide up and down, up and down. He couldn’t even see his manhood. It was lost in a sea of maddeningly pleasurable fur.

“You know, I’m still kind of tickling you while I’m doing this, Bruno,” Bianca giggled, her eyes dancing with seduction. She let her fingers lightly graze his sensitive spots once more, adding a touch of teasing to her words. “Tickle, tickle.” She observed as his breathy moans quickened, a clear sign of the effect her playful touch had on him. “And the fur?” she continued, her voice soft and teasing. “Isn’t it a bit ticklish too?”

Bruno nodded, his eyes rolling back as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. The combined teases and tickle talk from Bianca and the soft brush of the fur against his manhood was almost too much to handle. Each touch, each whisper of the fur, seemed to intensify his experience, leaving him in a state of helpless ecstasy.

“Cum for me… Cum for your tickling fur goddess, Bruno…” Bianca urged, sensing the critic's orgasm was close.

And so Bruno let himself be taken over by an explosive ticklegasm. His back arched in response, as his entire nervous system tingled like fire and his muscles spasmed in pure pleasurable ecstasy. Streaks of hot sperm shot out of his throbbing red cock and he screamed as his entire body joined together in a harmony of pleasure.

Bianca stroked his hair gently, her touch soft and soothing after the intense ordeal. As Bruno panted heavily, his head hung low in exhaustion, she offered him a tender smile. Her fingers ran through his hair with a caring rhythm, a contrast to the earlier playful torment.

“You did so well, Bruno,” she murmured softly, her voice a blend of satisfaction and genuine care. “I’m glad we understand each other now.” Bianca turned to the door. “I sincerely hope you keep up your promise, because if you don’t.”

She turned back.

“I’ll personally make sure you’re tickled and tortured until passing out. Then you’ll be tickled again. And again. And again…”

[ceramiccity]

Chic Retail Interior Design

Retail love via jacoblenard - Boutique interior with hexagonal blue tiles, brass sinks, fashionable clothing racks, and stylish decor. Follow Ceramic City on Tumblr Source: https://soudasouda.tumblr.com/post/749397795797073920/retail-love-via-jacoblenard-follow-souda-on-tumblr

[eobuvka]

Emily shops for a new dress

In the heart of a bustling shopping district, there lived a woman named Emily, a chic and stylish lady in her thirties. On a sunny Saturday afternoon, she decided to indulge in her favorite pastime: shopping for dresses. Dressed in a graceful gray dress that accentuated her elegance, tan pantyhose, and classic black pumps, she strolled into a trendy boutique.

Emily browsed through the racks of dresses, her discerning eye searching for the perfect addition to her wardrobe. After a few moments of careful consideration, she spotted a stunning dress that caught her attention. It was a vibrant shade of royal blue with intricate lace detailing.

With her chosen dress in hand, Emily made her way to the fitting room, her black pumps clicking softly against the boutique's polished floors. She entered the fitting room, her excitement palpable, and closed the door behind her.

Inside the fitting room, Emily hung her gray dress on a hook and began to carefully unzip it. She had just started to slip it off when she realized she needed to take off her black pumps first. With a gentle sigh, she placed her pumps neatly on the plush carpet before continuing to undress.

Emily slid the royal blue dress over her tan pantyhose, but to her dismay, it didn't fit as she had hoped. The fabric was too snug around her waist, and she knew it wouldn't do justice to her figure. With a touch of disappointment, she decided to abandon the ill-fitting dress.

She stepped out of the fitting room, her black pumps still sitting inside, and went back into the boutique to continue her search. Emily gracefully moved through the store, her stocking-covered feet making almost no sound on the smooth tile floor. She picked out more garments, holding them up to examine their colors and styles, and then returned to the fitting room.

Again and again, she went in and out of the fitting room, each time leaving her pumps behind. She remained determined to find the perfect dress, determined to have a new addition to her wardrobe that would make her feel as elegant as she deserved.

After several tries, Emily finally found a dress that fit like a dream. It was a soft blush pink, flowing gracefully around her figure. She couldn't help but smile as she admired herself in the mirror, her tan pantyhose and stocking-covered feet elegantly peeking out from beneath the dress.

With her decision made, Emily carefully removed the pink dress and stepped back into her black pumps, savoring the comfortable feeling of her shoes sliding back onto her feet. She knew she had found the perfect addition to her collection, a dress that would make her feel confident and beautiful on any occasion.

As Emily left the boutique with her new dress in hand, she couldn't help but reflect on the journey she had taken inside those fitting room walls. It was a reminder that sometimes, finding the perfect fit required a bit of patience and persistence, but the end result was always worth it. She walked away, her stylish outfit and newfound confidence shining as brightly as the sun outside.

[ub-sessed]

I knit crooked!

By which I mean: My rows are not perpendicular to my columns.

No big deal, you say, you can block that out no problem.

Unfortunately, the yarn I'm hoping to use to make this hat is a super bulky polyester chenille (Red Heart Boutique Chic, essentially identical to Bernat Blanket), which I'm pretty sure can't be blocked, and the pattern and the large size of the stitches makes the asymmetry pretty glaring:

This swatch was particularly bad, at least partly because of the increase I was using. Lifted increases seem to be the worst:

While yarnovers knit through the back loop come out no more crooked than my plain square swatch:

I am a self-taught knitter who has only been knitting for a year and a half, so I have no idea if this is normal or not. All feedback welcome!

Note that none of these swatches have been blocked or pulled in any way: the tape is just there to hold the swatch aligned to my graph paper. The blue yarn is the same as the pink yarn, just in a different colour. I will post all of my increase swatches in a separate post.

[402luxe]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Judy Blue Classic Handsand Skinny Jeans.

[asdckanpur6]

digital marketing agency,web marketing,social media marketing

Fashion Trends Blog Post

Title: 5 Must-Have Fashion Trends for the Upcoming Season Content:

As the new season approaches, it's time to revamp your wardrobe with the latest trends. From boldtrumblr colors to minimalist cuts, here are five trends that are making waves:

Bold Colors: Think neon greens and electric blues to make a statement.

Tailored Blazers: A staple for any wardrobe, pair it with jeans for a casual chic look.

Oversized Accessories: Make your accessories the focal point of any outfit.

Vintage Aesthetics: Think ‘90s-inspired dresses, slip skirts, and oversized sunglasses.

Sustainable Fashion: Eco-friendly and chic! Look out for brands prioritizing sustainability.

Call to Action: Check out our boutique for exclusive pieces that match these trends!

[jodgster]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Sweater light blue NWOT lightweight.

[cbelleschic]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Laundry By Shelli Segal Teal Halter Top Bathing Suit Two-Piece Sz M.

[jodhpurani]

Title: Embrace Elegance with the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan: A Winter Must-Have

As the chill of winter settles in, finding a stylish yet comfortable outerwear option becomes essential. Enter the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan—a winter wardrobe staple that seamlessly blends luxurious design with practical warmth. This standout piece is perfect for those who want to make a refined fashion statement while staying cozy. Here’s why the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan should be your go-to winter garment.

1. The Allure of Indigo Ink

The Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan is distinguished by its deep, captivating blue hue. Indigo Ink offers a rich, elegant shade that exudes sophistication and versatility. This color not only brightens up dreary winter days but also complements a variety of skin tones and pairs effortlessly with other colors. Whether you're dressing up for a special occasion or simply adding a touch of luxury to your everyday look, Indigo Ink is the perfect choice.

2. Design and Comfort in Harmony

Elegant Silhouette

The robe kaftan features a flowing, relaxed fit that drapes beautifully over the body. Its design includes a sash or belt that cinches at the waist, allowing you to adjust the fit and enhance your silhouette. This combination of a loose, comfortable fit with tailored details creates a look that is both elegant and practical.

Luxurious Fabric

Made from high-quality materials, the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan provides both warmth and a soft, sumptuous feel. The fabric is chosen for its insulating properties, ensuring you stay warm even on the coldest days. The luxurious texture of the kaftan makes it a pleasure to wear, whether you're lounging at home or out on the town.

3. Styling the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan

Casual Chic

For a laid-back yet sophisticated look, pair the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan with a simple turtleneck, skinny jeans, and ankle boots. This combination is perfect for casual outings or weekend relaxation. The robe’s elegant drape adds a touch of class to your everyday attire.

Office Ready

Elevate your workwear by layering the kaftan over a tailored blouse and dress pants. The robe kaftan’s refined design enhances your professional look while keeping you warm during those cold commutes. Complete the outfit with classic pumps and minimalistic jewelry for a polished, office-ready ensemble.

Evening Glamour

Transform the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan into a statement piece for evening events. Wear it over a sleek evening dress or a fitted jumpsuit for an effortlessly glamorous look. The deep indigo color and flowing design ensure you make a stunning impression at any formal gathering.

4. Practical Benefits

Versatility

One of the key advantages of the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan is its versatility. It can be dressed up or down to suit various occasions, making it a valuable addition to your winter wardrobe. From casual outings to formal events, this kaftan adapts to your needs and ensures you look stylish no matter the setting.

Ease of Care

Despite its luxurious appearance, the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan is designed for practicality. Follow the care instructions to maintain its beauty, and you’ll enjoy a garment that remains a staple in your wardrobe for years to come.

5. Where to Find the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan

The Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan is available at select high-end fashion retailers and online stores. For the best selection, check out boutiques that specialize in luxury and contemporary fashion. Investing in this robe kaftan will elevate your winter wardrobe and provide you with a timeless, elegant piece.

Conclusion

The Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan is more than just a winter jacket; it’s a testament to elegance and comfort. With its rich indigo color, luxurious fabric, and versatile design, this kaftan offers both warmth and style. Whether for everyday wear or special occasions, the Indigo Ink Robe Kaftan is a piece that will make you look and feel fabulous throughout the winter season.

[nancysfancies]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 🆕 NWT Boutique Free People Galloon Lace Halter Bralette.