#Hope you all are interested in learning about them!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
chocoqtelle ¡ 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
inner child pac reading
Tumblr media Tumblr media
🦀 pile one,,
I know we're used to being super helpful, but it's good to help yourself too. you should always make sure you're okay first. It's important for us to be okay, even if other people don't think so. we should think so. things are gonna be okay for us. they always are. I want to do the things we like. I don't understand why you care about what people think now. I think we should try doing what we like more, even if it's embarrassing. it doesn't have to take a lot of time. it's just good to have fun sometimes. maybe you can get back into some of our old interests if you want?
it seems like this pile had to mature quickly and was overly generous in childhood. this likely led to some people pleaser habits. when the world said "be nice" and "care about others" you took it to heart, but it felt like you were the only one who did. you felt like you had to be the adult in your childhood and care for other people around you. for some of you, you may have had to care for a parental/older familiar figure or your siblings. you're used to changing your words and your personality to be more digestible and gentle because this strong fear of conflict. you were scared of people being mean to you, so you avoided making anyone mad. it was like you were always tiptoeing over eggshells. now, you don't have to, so there's no point in worrying about people who don't worry about you. you'd be doing yourself and your inner child a favor by doing what you want. it might feel wrong to be yourself, but at least try. I won't delve too much into this part, but I believe some people in this pile also dealt with being oversexualized or being hyper sexual at a young age. I think it's important to know you're more than what you can give others for this pile. please also take a break for the love of god.
🐸 pile two,,
It's hard to feel loved if nobody shows you. at the same time, i don't think I'd want to be loved. it seems weird and uncomfortable. I'm not used to it so it's scary. I still wish that someone would care at least. it feels like nobody else cares. I'm really tired of things being silent and boring all the time. I want to do something fun. I want friends but I want to be by myself. people think I'm weird, but I think they're the weird ones. they can avoid me but I wouldn't wanna be friends with them anyway. it doesn't matter if it's lonely, I don't feel less lonely around people anyway. some people think I'm mean. I don't think I'm mean. i heard I look mean or I act mean sometimes, but what if that's just who I am? I don't try to be mean to people. I just don't want people to hurt me.
holy neglect trauma... there's a lot to unpack here 😓 first off, I hope you're alright. it seems like this pile never really learned how to interact with people and is probably still a bit of a people hater. this pile has had to keep strong boundaries and walls on to protect themselves from unfamiliar experiences (being spoken to positively.) if you've never experienced something, it can be scary but you have to stop thinking every little thing is gonna go wrong in your life. it's fine. separate note but I think someone's ancestors are very present here, might want to connect with them if you don't already. you can try to shut down the feelings of loneliness and pretend connection won't help but it does. you're probably not connected with your inner child or you're ashamed of yourself for some reason. trying to be cold won't undo anything or save you from the feelings you're hiding. you'll have to acknowledge them at some point. escapism and forcing ignorance wont help forever. hopefully it'll be sooner than later, but that's your choice. it's okay to be soft, btw.
🐕 pile three,,
I know what I'm talking about. I'm serious. I wish people would take me more seriously. i get good grades, I study hard, I always prove how smart I am. for some reason, people still act like I'm too young and stupid to have opinions or that what I say is just silly, especially with emotions. they act like having emotions makes you a less rational person. some people look down on me for who I am, too. it's not something I can change. whether it's gender, age, or whatever, people always want an excuse to ignore how I feel or what I have to say. I know I'm right though. I don't want us to stop expressing ourselves. I wanna share how I feel to the world.
this pile is extremely opinionated and knows how to share their emotions. this pile is for the "bossy" kids who "should have been lawyers" or "a CEO" according to every adult around them. you were emotional as a child and it was always ignored or joked off as if your feelings were invalid. this pile is definitely natural-born leaders so if you aren't/never have been aspiration-driven or "extra" this pile probably isn't yours. the most healing thing you can do for yourself at this point is speak up. continue to speak about everything. share your opinion more, it's safe now and people will actually take you seriously. be emotional, be too much, be annoying, be talkative, be over-opinionated, be everything you feel like being and don't let anyone talk you out of it. lead your life how you want to. call everything out, even if it means being weird. I definitely feel like some people in this pile had the gifted kid experience or liked to read a lot when they were younger. there's also some unresolved anger that might need to be taken care of. I think speaking up more instead of bottling feelings up will definitely help that, though. you're not stupid or weak for being emotional. just be yourself unapologetically and that's the best thing you can do for your younger self.
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
156 notes ¡ View notes
quintessenceofdust88 ¡ 2 days ago
Text
perfect (it's not all it's cracked up to be)
Hello everyone! I promised you guys that the sequel for this prompt would be up by the weekend, right? Turns out I only sorta lied cause it's still Monday hehe. I hope you enjoy it!
You can read it on AO3 if you'd prefer! ❤️
When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and freezing at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself. 
He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch. 
“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture. 
As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.
“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now. 
“Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your helicopter crashed? After you wished me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as your parting words?! It wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?! You’re too much of a coward to actually let yourself be loved and see a future with me, but not to send a farewell message to me through dispatch?! You’re unbelievable!”
“Buck…” He starts, but it’s clear he won’t get to say anything this time. For one, his brain is still working a little too slow to translate thoughts into words. Evan seems to notice it, and lets out a defeated sigh. 
“We… We’ll talk later, ok? Let’s get a doctor to check on you first. Sorry, that should have been the first thing I did” He says grumpily, and presses the button by Tommy’s bed. 
From them on, it’s a flutter of doctors and nurses, and Tommy learns the extent of the damage: a broken femur, at least five crushed ribs and a small concussion, not to mention the thousand bruises that turned his whole left side black and blue; he hasn’t looked at a mirror yet, but it can’t be pretty. 
“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy, doc” He attempts to joke, and Evan’s scoff and the doctor’s exasperated look make it clear it wasn’t his best attempt. “So, let’s talk business, doc. Will I fly again?” Tommy asks, because that’s the question that matters the most. 
He realizes with a treacherous skip to his heart that Evan looks as interested in the answer as Tommy himself. During the whole time the doctor is talking to him about treatments and physical therapy and his perspective to get back to work, he stays by his side, nodding attentively at everything the doctor says (as if he’ll be involved in your treatment, a hopeful part of his brain that should have quieted down weeks ago supplies, and Tommy does his best not to listen to it, because it’ll hurt so bad when it’s not the case). 
When the doctor makes it clear that Tommy will not go back to the air for at least six months, Evan squeezes his hand and gives him a look of solidarity that goes a long way to make it not feel like the end of the world. And when the nurse comes to up Tommy’s dosage of morphine and redress his wounds, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Tommy wants to say something, anything, but he’s received a lot of information and the morphine running through his veins makes it difficult to put his thoughts into words. But he doesn’t want to fall asleep; he doesn’t want to let Evan go. 
“Sleep, Tommy” Evan tells him in a firm tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll talk”
It sounds too good to be true; Tommy refuses to believe it. Evan would have every right to leave him to fend for himself; he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He closes his eyes, fully expecting to find an empty room when he wakes up.
But contrary to all expectations, when Tommy opens his eyes again, feeling slightly more like a person and less like a shapeless bruise, is to find Evan in the same chair, only with the black hoodie this time, and a cup of coffee in his hand. 
He’s impossibly handsome in black, Tommy thinks dazedly, taking advantage of the fact Evan’s looking down at his phone to take a good look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Tommy wonders if he’s been home at all. 
His heart does another one of those treacherous leaps, and Tommy is having a hard time keeping the hope from bubbling in his chest. Because if this man saw Tommy at his worst, physically and (especially) emotionally, and was willing to stay this long by his side, who’s to say he won’t stay longer? He was willing to; Tommy was the one who fled, thinking it was about the excitement of a new relationship, but staying by his side after a helicopter crash is something entirely different. Who’s to say he won’t just… stay?
Tommy has to be brave; hell, he’s been brave before, on that glorious night where he took a leap of faith and placed a kiss to the man who had maimed his best friend for Tommy’s attention. Evan had been brave, if a little misguided, when he invited Tommy to move in with him. He owes him some bravery right now. If nothing else, he owes him some honesty after everything.
“You were right” He blurts out, and Evan looks up from his phone, staring at him with widened blue eyes. 
“H-hey, you’re up! Do… Do you need anything? I can call the nurse…” He trails off when Tommy’s hand, the one which is less covered in scrapes and bruises, reaches out to lightly touch his.
“I just need you to listen to me. You… you were right, Evan. I was a coward. I am a coward. I… I don’t know how to be loved. I never was” He admits it, and hates himself for choking up as he says it. This isn’t a pity party; he’s just stating a fact: the sky is blue, alcohol is flammable, Thomas Kinard was never loved. He hates how it makes Evan’s whole demeanor soften, because Tommy doesn’t deserve it. 
“Then let me love you” Evan whispers, taking Tommy’s hand in both of his. “Let me teach you how it feels. It’s… It’s not like I’m an expert at it, ok? I… I haven’t always been loved either. But… but I love you. You broke my fucking heart, Tommy, and I still love you. Do… do you love me?”
“With all of my heart” Tommy whispers back, and he can’t keep a tear from running down his face. Hell, he almost died, he’s allowed to be emotional. “T-that’s why I had to leave, Evan. If… If you didn’t love me back… If you found out I wasn’t perfect…”
“I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But guess what? I love you anyway, you idiot” He says, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, another to the tip of his nose, and a very tender one to his lips. “You… You always wanted me to see you as perfect. You barely let me in all the time we were together. But I saw it anyway, Tommy, and I still wanted you. I still want you”
“I… I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn’t think I’d be hurting you” Tommy admits with a sigh. “A-actually I didn’t think you’d be hurt. I… I thought you’d be okay. I’m sorry, Evan”
“Well, I wasn’t okay. Just ask all of my friends and the thousand loaves of bread in their pantries” He says with a chuckle, and then looks Tommy deeply in the eyes. “Next time, talk to me instead of doing a dramatic exit. And don’t wait till you almost die to let me know where my Christmas presents are”
Tommy chuckles, and squeezes Evan’s hand. He wishes he could sit up and kiss him within an inch of his life, but it  sounds a little out of his physical abilities right now. He’ll content himself, with a peck on the lips before Evan sits back down, still holding Tommy’s hand in his. 
“I promise Christmas will be perfect” He says, and Evan shakes his head.
“I don’t need perfect, Tommy. I just need you”
–
And Christmas is not perfect. Tommy’s still mostly on bed rest and his leg’s still in a cast. Buck’s staying at his place for now to help him around, but they decided to leave any serious conversations about moving in to after New Year’s. They haven’t really decorated (Tommy was too depressed to bother, and Buck didn’t really have the time between his shifts and taking care of Tommy) and their plans for the day mostly consist in staying in bed and alternating between cheesy rom-coms and documentaries. 
It’s not perfect. They are not perfect. But they’re together, and Tommy finds himself thanking any deity out there for his accident. That it brought Evan back to him, and more importantly, him back to Evan. 
Buck’s wearing his new burgundy hoodie, and he gives Tommy the airplane model that he stubbornly kept in the hood of the Jeep all this time. They assemble it together, and it’s not the best, because Tommy’s hands are still a little sore and Buck’s not very good at the whole arts and crafts thing, but Tommy puts in his nightstand with adoration anyway. 
And if there’s no tree, no Christmas dinner, no cheesy sweaters, well. They can always make up for it next Christmas.
--
Tag list: (let me know if you’d like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if you'd rather only be tagged on Little Blobs' verse, also let me know! ♥)
@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter  @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie  
124 notes ¡ View notes
midnight-bay-if ¡ 2 days ago
Note
How would each RO respond to getting the shovel talk from Alek?
S: From the moment they began dating you seriously, they anticipated it. Alek has watched the progress of your relationship with some trepidation, and although S wouldn't go so far as to ask for permission to court you, they are old-fashioned in many respects. Alek is the closest thing to a parental figure you have; it's important to them that Alek approves of your relationship.
"I can assure you, Detective Graves, my intentions are sincere, and my interest good intentioned. I am flawed and imperfect and will most likely misstep on multiple occasions. But know that should I falter, should my knees buckle or my feet stumble, I will not drag MC down to my level. Instead, I will raise them above me with a reassuring word, or a listening ear, and I will always match their pace."
"I do not speak these words lightly," they continue, staring directly into Alek's eyes. "MC deserves to be happy. It would be my immeasurable pleasure if they deemed me worthy of such an honour."
Rain: They feel as if they've been trapped in Detective Grave's interrogation room and are uncertain why. Alek cornered them not long after making your relationship official, with threats of violence they hope are Alek's attempt at humour.
"...so if you ever hurt them," Alek warns, pointing a finger close to Rain's nose, "they'll be hell to pay."
"Understood, sir," Rain agrees, nodding readily out of reflexive fear... before stopping. "But... it took us great courage to enter this partnership. I fear we are both still learning what that means. I love MC. They are the current that keeps me afloat. Without them, I fear I would drown."
"But I do not yet know the depth of MC's feeling. They are the captain at the helm of this ship. I go wherever they take me, and I do so as readily as the tide comes to shore. All of this to say, I am theirs. I will always be theirs."
Taj: Family is important. So, it's really no surprise when Alek corners them, threatening acts of bodily harm should their new relationship with MC end in heartbreak. Alek may not be your family by blood, but it's pretty obvious he views you as if you were. Taj is dangerous, and they lead a perilous life. It's good to know there is someone else watching out for you.
Not that Alek's entitled to know that.
"Look, I get it," Taj begins, already irritable, "We had a rough start. You saw the worst of it. But there was so much you didn't see. You didn't see the mocking remarks turn to playful laughter, or the heavy tension turn to comfortable silence. I was an ass, but they saw past the cracks in my walls to the fuckin' terrfied person trapped inside. I'm grateful for that."
"So don't presume to think you have it all figured out. You haven't seen the way they smiles when we're alone."
N: "Oh, this is adorable," N goads in the face of Alek's threats. "Do go on about how you intend to maim me should I in any way bring harm to MC. It's terribly amusing."
None of this was the right thing to say; N knows that. It's not what Alek wanted to hear, and it would have been all too easy to placate them with some insipid speech about their good intentions towards you. But why should they? Alek is not owed that from them. Why should he be the first to hear such words from his lips? Such things should be saved and savoured by the only person who should care to listen to them. You.
"Do continue thinking of me as some sinister rake. It will only make MC's whispered promises in the dark all the sweeter."
Umbra: Anything involving you is taken very seriously by Umbra. So when Alek pulls them to one side with a severe expression on his face, Umbra follows. Alek confronts them, squeezing their shoulder threateningly and demanding explanations they don't know how to voice the answer to. It's intimidating. Not because Umbra is afraid of Alek, but because they do not know how honest they should be.
Is it wise to admit they would be willing to kill for MC's happiness? Is that normal? It feels like it would be all too easy now that they are yours. To slip a knife between the ribs of whoever would dare to hurt you.
Perhaps it's safer to admit another truth.
"I would fall on my own blade before I let myself hurt MC, sir."
97 notes ¡ View notes
darsynia ¡ 3 days ago
Text
Fate and Fairy Tales (Stephen Strange/Reader)
Tumblr media
MCU Masterlist | Steve | Bucky | Tony
Summary: The Sorcerer Supreme spoke your soulmate Words while the magic of Kamar Taj healed your life-threatening wounds. Overwhelmed, you seek to hide your bond and save him from a lifetime of protecting someone as ordinary as you. The time comes to spend a week at the Sanctum, usually a reward for someone at your training level-- but will you make it through with your secrets intact?
Words/Warnings: 4,500 // none
This is a gift for the lovely @sobeautifullyobsessed, I do hope you enjoy! Here's an excerpt to tempt anyone else who might be interested! gif by @doctorstrangegifsparadise
Tumblr media
“What do you hope to gain by your silence?” he asks, a tone of warning hovering just out of reach.
You’d already decided that pure silence has been like a scarlet Cloak to Strange’s bullish nature, so you hold up the microfiber cloth you’d been using on the window and address it, rather than him.
“What do you think, scrubcloth, was I looking to gain something by my silence, or simply enjoying my time in a sacred, meaningful space?”
His derisive scoff tickles the back of your neck, and you shiver. Suddenly he’s not an adversary but a man , one that’s technically yours for the taking. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. His next words heighten your sense of danger.
“You are scheming, and I will find out why.”
Tumblr media
Fate and Fairy Tales
Routine is important in Kamar Taj. You’re not much of a routine girl, but you’ve done your best to make up for that, something that’s gotten you recognized as a hard worker. There’s only one thing you’ve managed to dodge so far: a week-long assignment at the New York Sanctum. It’s practically a vacation, with easy work as a caretaker for the Artifacts, scheduled magic use to keep the defensive shielding active, and the opportunity to study some of the books that don’t leave the premises. The real draw for most of your colleagues is personalized instruction from the Sorcerer Supreme. 
That's the part you’re worried about.
With your head down, you head for the library, crossing the courtyard by a less-traveled path. Despite this, the silver-threaded soulmate Words on your ankle itch under the leather band you’ve covered them with. Usually that means that Strange is in the vicinity. Though you don’t remember the catastrophic attack that brought you to the sanctuary for rescue, you do remember the flurry of magic and healing that followed.
The only face you recall is that of the tall, attractive man in mystical robes bending close to your crumpled form. He’d rested a steady hand on your cheek and spoken with authority. Look at me--you’re safe now.
They say soulmate Words burn at the magical moment they’re first spoken. You wouldn’t know; the agony you’d felt on that day has been mercifully removed from your mind; you and your magical healers had agreed to wipe your memories of the events leading up to your arrival. That indelible moment is all that’s left. Everything before your life in Kamar Taj has faded into a distant haze, a rare but warned-for side-effect.
A different kind of magic vibrates in your ankle, so much so that you stop and press your back against one of the columns at the edge of the courtyard, closing your eyes. Strange has to be very close by, but you’re off the usual path, and you’ve never spoken to him, so you know his Words won’t buzz from your presence. It isn’t that you’re afraid or repelled by him, far from it. He’s a charismatic leader, powerful to the extreme, and very handsome. You? You don’t even remember the person you were before learning to attune the Mystic Arts. 
There’s no way to know what the Fates had in mind when they branded the two of you, but you suspect you’ve fallen far short of their plans. As a wealthy, talented surgeon, Dr. Stephen Strange was always out of your league, but now he’s the Sorcerer Supreme for a powerful cadre of magic users. It’s practically your duty to see that your ships pass quietly in the night, and you’ve done your best to see him as nothing more than the aloof leader of your mystic order. Besides, he deserves a partner as powerful, notable, and charismatic as he is.
To cover the resonant sound of his voice as Strange’s group walks by, you cast a sound-muffling incantation. Soon, the agitation in your ankle fades, replaced by the dull, hollow feeling of a missed connection. 
Each time this happens, the ache lasts longer, meaning you’ll be in agony by the end of a week spent in Strange’s company. It’s going to be a nightmare to deal with that pain and the constant vigilance of avoiding directly speaking to your soulmate. The exhaustion alone might put you in danger of a slip up. Now that you can’t avoid your Sanctum assignment, the only thing left to do is persuade the Powers That Be to let you spend your time there under a Silence spell, preferably without explaining why.
Unfortunately, that Power is likely to be Wong, and he’s not known to Be all that lenient.
Tumblr media
“--and that’s why I intend to spend the next two weeks under a Silence Vow,” you say, hoping your constructed excuses sound plausible.
Wong hasn’t said more than ten words since you walked in, but his expression speaks volumes. “You’re scheduled for the Sanctum in two days. You can do it when you get back.” 
You start for the door with a decisiveness you absolutely don’t feel, hoping to get away with your plan via sheer audacity. “What would you say if I couldn’t speak in the first place, hmm? It’ll be a challenge! Thrive in adversity, and all of that.”
“Sonnet?”
A warm sense of belonging strikes you on hearing the name you’re known by here at Kamar Taj, and you pause to look back at Wong.
“If the Sorcerer Supreme gives his permission, I suppose a week isn’t the end of the world.”
You spend all of your energy preventing your shoulders from slumping as you nod and rush through the door.
Tumblr media
It takes you 12 hours to come up with what to do.
Your plan is audacious and absurd, but what convinces you to do it is the knowledge that it’s an act of protection for both Strange and Kamar Taj itself. Someone clearly meddled with the proper order of things to mark you as soulmates, and you’re just… setting things right.
Besides, you’ve been putting your library books back on the returns shelf with portals since three months after you came here, so your plan is only four times more ill-advised than that.
You don’t have to go just outside the Sorcerer Supreme’s study to place your request for an official Period of Silence in his ‘to be fulfilled’ inbox (the existence of which you confirmed with one of your friends, who works as a part-time admin for Kamar Taj leadership), but your Words’ penchant for vibrating in his vicinity is uniquely useful tonight.
Right before you complete the mission, you cast the intricate, personalized incantation you devised to steal away your voice for the following seven days, just in case. No one will know it’s a spell unless they detect as much, but it’ll stop you from speaking out of turn and literally ruining everything.
That turns out not to have been necessary, though. There’s no alarm, no floodlight, no magical imprisoning sentry spell to trap you in place for the room’s owner to come discover what you’d been up to. You simply sneak back out the way you came, silently congratulating yourself on a job well done.
Tumblr media
You implement the crucial second part of your plan the second you arrive at the Sanctum: detached competence. You place the groceries you purchased in their places, check the cleanliness of the kitchen and the efficacy of the appliances and tools, and move on to begin laundering all of the towels, sheets, and other cloth items throughout the building. That started, you embark on a deep clean of each floor. The goal is to both seem extremely busy and foolish to have taken on such a labor-intensive plan. It would be crazy to question your actions, given how overdue most of the work is.
The problem? Dr. Stephen Strange is crazy.
Your first encounter at the Sanctum happens one hour into your self-appointed task of thoroughly cleaning every Artifact display case. He’d arrived in the building fifteen minutes ago, according to your erstwhile ankle monitor, the buzzing of which feels almost audible by the time Strange walks into the room. You are on the floor underneath one of the largest display cases, halfway through a painstaking rag and q-tip removal of all residual dust.
With a surprised cough, the Sorcerer Supreme casts a spell to clear the air, rushing over shortly afterwards to crouch down and frown in your direction.
“What on Earth are you--” he starts to say, but you interrupt by lifting up the discard tray full of lemon-scented dusty q-tips, wordlessly tapping it against your industrial-sized spray-can of Pledge. “Must have been one hell of a lost bet,” Strange observes. You shake your head and move to clean out another line of dusty crevices, shaken by how attractive you find his frustrated amusement.
You wrestle with that for a three-dirty-q-tip-long pause before he speaks again.
“You could just use magic for that, you know.”
You swing your head out sideways to offer a skeptical look, which he answers by casting what is probably intended to be a cleaning spell on your next dust target. With as neutral an expression as you can manage, you swipe at the same area with your Pledge’d rag and hold up the (vaguely less dusty, but still obviously disappointing) evidence. 
Your soulmate’s deflated sigh accompanies his departure.
Tumblr media
Dinner doesn’t go much better; you’d chosen to make your favorite dish despite the 90 minute prep/cook time. You’d taken reassurance from reports that Strange tends to dislike vapid small talk at the table, but something about your silence makes him attempt it anyway. 
At first he fires off a sequence of yes or no questions that end with something that requires a complicated answer, an obvious trap which you can’t help but admire even as you dodge it. Next, he turns on the charm, which would have worked if it weren’t for the secret you’re planning to keep from him for all eternity. Despite this, you can’t help but feel a bit of a thrill when he smiles at you. Strange compliments your recovery, your accelerated course of study, and your particular talents in concealment magic. The latter twinges your conscience; your specialty is in preparation for the worst case scenario, the one where you flee somewhere he can’t find you after speaking his Words. 
As dinner winds to a close, Strange turns academic, and you almost break when he muses on the meaning of one of your favorite sonnets. 
The man fights dirty.
You do your best to fend it all off with nods, smiles, and the occasional thumbs-up, but you’re definitely shaken. You’d never allowed yourself to see him as a man before, certainly not as a potential love interest. He’s attentive, intellectual, and clever, a trifecta that threatens your entire world-view. Eventually your implacable silence sends him into the kitchen with his newly-cleared plate. Seconds later, he appears in the doorway to glower at you.
“You made cheesecake?”
Your cheerful thumbs-up doesn’t prevent him from eating any, but it looks like a near thing. It seems that Stephen Strange hates mysteries almost as much as he hates not being in control.
The next morning at breakfast, Strange casts two spells on you in rapid succession. One is a diagnostic spell that leaves a harsh ringing in your ears-- and the second strips away your silence evocation. You’re left feeling anxious and exposed, but you lean into it and shrug defensively, hoping he’ll get so annoyed by your obstinance that he leaves you alone. Stephen Strange is very handsome when he’s upset, which is a twisted silver lining, to be sure.
Tumblr media
You’d almost purged your mind of Strange thoughts (an exercise much more difficult than you would have expected, may the fates be damned) when he steps up behind you while you’re scrubbing windows. Almost the entire day has passed; it’s now the magic twilight time where you can see your reflection in the window but still look through it to see the cityscape beyond. The light outside is beautiful, hovering between golden and navy blue in a way that accentuates the ancient garb Strange is wearing.
“What do you hope to gain by your silence?” he asks, a tone of warning hovering just out of reach.
You’d already decided that pure silence has been like a scarlet Cloak to Strange’s bullish nature, so you hold up the microfiber cloth you’d been using on the window and address it, rather than him.
“What do you think, scrubcloth, was I looking to gain something by my silence, or simply enjoying my time in a sacred, meaningful space?”
His derisive scoff tickles the back of your neck, and you shiver. Suddenly he’s not an adversary but a man , one that’s technically yours for the taking. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. His next words heighten your sense of danger.
“You are scheming, and I will find out why.”
You indulge your instinctive, annoy-thy-neighbor movement to spin around and pat at his chest reassuringly. You’d have said something snarky and encouraging to his Cloak Artifact, but instead the warmth of his chest under your hand and the determined look on his face steal your words away. Briskly, you play off your physical reaction by pretending you’d missed a spot on the window closer to the door.
Once in the hallway, you lean up against the wall and just breathe for a while.
Tumblr media
The third day at the Sanctum always comes with one-on-one instruction with the Sorcerer Supreme. You wake with the weight of the world strung up above you, held at bay by the slender threads of your resolve.
Skipping breakfast, you opt for nuclear-grade coffee from a highly-recommended shop nearby. Strange had been absent from dinner the night before, which means the last time you saw him was during your heated confrontation at the window.
For the upcoming metaphorical and instructional battle with Stephen Strange, you choose Kamar Taj battle-dress. The rich, full robes allow for easy movement, which you complement with leather padding for your knees, elbows, and forearms. It’s your heart that’s the least armored today, an oversight you hadn’t considered. As you walk toward the practice room, all you can do is remind yourself how important Stephen Strange is to your order, to humanity in particular, even to the universe as a whole after his confrontation with Dormammu. If he were destined to be with someone ‘ordinary,’ it would be a skilled, compassionate doctor like Christine Palmer, not a woman with no past and an uncertain future.
To your surprise, Strange proceeds to spend the session treating you with kindness, showing no cynicism, sarcasm, or frustration whatsoever. He even weaves poetry into his instruction, the words shocking and romantic coming from that rich, practically sensual voice of his.
“In the absence of a more pleasing sound, close your eyes and listen to my voice, then watch my hands, then you can try it yourself.”
At that, you almost trip on your own feet. Thankfully, Strange was turned away and maybe didn’t see-- but did he somehow know you’d thought of his voice in the same way Shakespeare had written in one of your favorite sonnets? ‘I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound…’
“I know your brain is beguiled by book learning, but you must trust me that practice is the best way to achieve this particular attunement.”
On hearing that one, you drop the mystical pattern you’d been conjuring and frown at him. His own concentration dips, sending his spinning geometric leaves colliding into a shower of sparks that fade into fairy dust. 
“What’s wrong?”
You put your hands on your hips, conveying as much ‘give me a break’ as possible.
His voice is gentle. “I thought you liked poetry.”
You almost retort. For a heart-stopping second you wonder if he’s trying to bait out some snarky, poem-related comment for fate to slice into his skin, but no. There’s no way he wouldn’t have magically commanded you to speak if that were the case, not when you’re known throughout Kamar Taj as Sonnet. This cements your resolve, and you convert your anxiety to kinetic magic and conjure a large version of the advanced shield he’d been teaching you to create. You make eye contact with him through the pulsing lines of the pattern, and he dips his head as if to concede the point.
It’s a turning point, a moment when the rightness of fate feels like it’s rubbing through your paper-thin defenses-- but when you focus on the backs of your hands instead of his piercing eyes, you see the defensive scars from your attack. Every reason you’re staying silent crashes back through, and you twist your fingers, spinning the shield into a spiral that guards you on the way to the door.
There you curtsey and leave, pressing the shield against the door on the other side to prevent yourself from being followed.
Seconds later you run smack into your soulmate. He’d opened a portal directly in your way with such precision that his Words on your ankle didn’t even have time to warn you. He catches you against him with one hand splayed across your back and the other clasping your exposed upper arm. Both of you gasp.
Your nerves are singing. It’s glorious and terrifying, stealing your breath such that you must close your eyes against its strength, held in fate’s embrace despite all your efforts to avoid it. The hallway is silent except for heavy, stunned breathing.
Strange swipes a warm caress with his thumb across the skin of your arm and steps back, steadying you for those first bereft seconds-- and then he lets out a deep chuckle.
“This is the reason. Your silence, your avoidance. This!”
It’s somehow both the perfect response and a completely unexpected one. You don’t know whether to be offended or tempted, so you lift your chin and cross your arms tightly, stubbornly leaving your eyes closed.
His chuckle has graduated to a beautiful full laugh. “All these years I thought you were a patient. Someone broken, someone I couldn’t fix. When I came here I accepted that I lost my chance-- and yet here you are! Talented in the Mystic Arts, unafraid of hard work, and as obstinate as I am. Do you even understand how relieved--”
You stagger back, eyes flying open in complete disbelief.
His beautiful eyes search yours, hands held up in the classic ‘not a threat’ pose, though you know differently. You shake your head, seeing his body relax and loosen in response, even as you clench up even more.
He cannot be serious.
Insidious joy seeps across the short distance between you, reminding you of the physical delight true soulmates find in each other. Isn’t Strange the one who knows most about the challenges he faces as the Sorcerer Supreme? If he isn’t concerned, why should--
No. That’s magic speaking, not reason.
You wheel around, turning your back on him. Your heart is a gash inside your chest, and the only way to heal it is to board the whole thing back up. Opening up a portal will give him a chance to follow you, but you’ve been practicing concealment for many months.
“Dear Diary,” you say in a clear, ringing voice, aiming at the dim ceiling rather than the man behind you. “Today I saved a great man from a terrible decision.”
“Oh, Sonnet, don’t,” your soulmate whispers behind you.
You are salt tear crystals compressed into stone as you continue walking away. In your mind’s eye, his confusion and dismay will soon turn into resolute understanding. There’s no other logical option.
“With galactic responsibilities like his,” you continue, “such a man cannot harbor weakness in the form of an inconsequential, imperfect partner--”
His voice is commanding as he interrupts. “You’re wrong.”
You are wrong, but about Strange’s wisdom, as it seems your soulmate is bewitched by the allure of magical bonding. It’s not his fault. He had given up, hadn’t considered the consequences, not like you have. Inside your chest is a hurricane of please yes and please no, swirling around your impenetrable heart. 
Never since your arrival in Kamar Taj --never since you’d heard this man’s voice speak your Words-- had you imagined you’d ever be tempted to change your mind, but oh, oh, you hadn’t been prepared for him to disagree with your choice to reject the bond.
Ahead of you, the pair of ornate doors that protect this wing of the Sanctum swing closed, the metal bolt slamming home with a loud clang.
You start gathering magic for your escape. “So, Diary, for the good of all, I must reject the generous offer fate has made to me--”
Strange interrupts to correct you, his tone achingly gentle. “To US. ‘ I fear no fate-- for you are my fate, my sweet. I want no world-- for beautiful, you are my world--’”
The storm in your chest bursts forth into a torrent of tears. That poem by e. e. cummings has always been your favorite, and to have it used against you -! You throw your hands out at your sides, bursting open the doors to the rooms beside you and further still, breaking the windows you’d so recently cleaned. 
You need access to as much magic as you can pull from the world at large, and it gathers in your outstretched fists, furious and barely constrained. Embers of magic dart out to sink into your ankle, while others dance around you to fly off out of sight behind you, probably into Strange. Many seconds have passed, and you recognize your mistake in facing away and thus being unprepared for whatever his next move is, but you’re a breath away from casting your spell. 
You’d practiced up to this moment a dozen times, triangulating your inner being on a single point, a necessary point in time and space. When you release your grasped magic, you’ll burst into countless points of light and coalesce at that one place. It’s the last step, the one you haven’t been able to complete yet, as it’s limited to one try. Wong’s precious library had taught it to you as the Sorcerer’s Elusion, a combination of illusion and eluding capture.
“Go on,” Strange says behind you, an odd sort of acceptance in his voice. The exultation from his capitulation is the last burst of energy you needed, and you complete the spell, slamming your hands together in an explosion of pain and panacea.
You arrive in a heap at Stephen Strange’s feet.
“No! What?” you groan.
Stephen throws himself down and pulls you to his chest, one hand brushing the tear-wet hair from your eyes. “I’m sorry, dearest.”
You’re completely spent, but the magically-crafted, fate-tuned pleasure in his touch is sour in the back of your throat as you struggle to pull back. You forget yourself in that moment, aiming your misery and disappointment directly at him. “Just give up! I’m too broken, it’s not right!”
“That has never been true, and it never will be,” your soulmate says. “Trust me, I’ve been there.”
He strokes his fingers across the fists you’re shoving him away with, and even through your tear-blurred eyes you can see the scars he also bears. “You deserve better,” you whisper.
“How far into the tome did you read, about the Elusion?”
“You’re just trying to distract me.” The quaver in your voice nullifies your attempt at outrage.
“No, I’m trying to figure out whether you’re impulsive or arrogant,” Stephen says, clearly amused. You lift your head and glare at him, but the damned man cups your face with his hand just as he’d done when speaking your Words. “It’s only been cast successfully three times, Sonnet. If that’s not proof you’re worthy to stand beside me, I don’t know what is.”
You blink up at him in disbelief, your instinctive retort falling flat. “There’s no chance that’s true.”
His smile is heart-stoppingly gorgeous. “You’re right, in a way-- it’s four times now. All of the others were life or death situations.” He lifts you up to a stand with impossible grace, adding, “We’ll never live it down, I hope you know that.”
“Hang on, now!” you burst out, frowning against the rush of rightness his words engender. “There’s no we! You and I barely know each other! I’ve spent our entire acquaintance avoiding you, and I just broke a bunch of the windows in the Sanctum attempting to--”
“--ruin my life, yes, I know. There are some trouble spots.”
“Trouble spots?!" Your lifelong instinct during outrageous moments such as these has always been to pace around, sometimes while gesticulating, but when you start, your soulmate catches your hand in his, arresting your spin. He tugs, and though you hold onto your reluctance as a matter of habit, you end up standing in front of him.
Only then do the words ‘ruin my life’ register, and it’s enough to cement your feet in place and really look at him. He seems utterly sincere, gentle even, and he uses that opportunity to take your other hand, clasping both lightly, a low-dipping bridge between the two of you.
“I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions. Is that all right?”
“I suppose,” you say, instead of ‘yes.’
There’s heat in the little chastising glare he offers, but Stephen just says, “Did you research soulmates?”
“Yes.”
“Did you research me?”
You bite your lip. “Yes.”
“You researched escape mechanisms, both physical and mystic?”
“Yes.”
“Did you research fairy tales?”
Your brows crinkle up. “What?”
Stephen squeezes your joined hands and smiles. “In fairy tales about lovers, the couple often must use magic in some transformative way to defeat the obstacle to ‘ever after.’ You just defeated yourself. Was it enough, or should I start looking out for feathers or bark while I get to know you? I don’t think I'd make a very good tree.”
There’s an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of your stomach. It flutters there, and every time it makes contact with your innards, you feel more comfortable with this possible future.
It seems like… there’s a chance… it just might be joy.
“Oh, come on, you’d make a majestic tree, what are you even talking about?”
Stephen looks at you like you matter, and it’s heady and glorious until the expression starts to fracture into amusement, and his eyes widen. “No, trust me, trust me,” he gasps out, holding back a laugh. He pulls your joined hands up to his chest and drags you close, looking more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him, not that you’ve let yourself be near enough to really say that.
“Tell me,” you whisper, scared he’s just thought of something that means you were right all along, now that you’re almost on board with the crazy insanity that is being his soulmate.
“It’s a poetry joke. I thought of a perfect, terrible poetry joke. You were right to-- well no, you weren’t, but--”
Stephen shakes his head and swoops down, capturing your lips in a brief, intense kiss before he says, “Could you consider the Road Not Taken with me?”
Your lips buzz with possibilities, but something makes you shake off your happy intoxication just long enough to examine why Stephen is so very apologetic. In your head, you pull out the memory of the Robert Frost poem he’s referenced. Two roads diverge in a yellow--  WOOD.
“There it is,” Stephen murmurs.
“Maybe I do deserve you,” you grumble. His triumphant bark of laughter warms you from the inside out. 
“I certainly hope so,” he rumbles, sliding a possessive hand into your hair and tipping your head up for a kiss. When your lips meet, all of the best lines of poetry in your memory coalesce into the perfect sonnet about how love (and obstinacy) conquers all.
Tumblr media
42 notes ¡ View notes
ticklygiggles ¡ 2 days ago
Text
Helping out | Futami Shun & Shiki Souma
Commissioned by @kusuguricafe
Tumblr media
A/N: thank you for your kind support and for the trust! 💖 I hope you enjoy these boys! 😁 Also big thanks to my beta readers mwaah ❤️
Summary: Shun is trying to teach Souma how to grin freely!
Tumblr media
Shun sighed in relief as he finally made it to the cafĂŠ. The weather was changing and his scarf wasn't enough to keep him warm anymore.
“Welcome- ah, it's Shun!”
Souma greeted him cheerfully and Shun nodded, greeting him in a cool way as he looked around. The cafe was... awfully empty. Noticing his strange look, Souma chuckled as he went behind the counter.
“It's been quiet today. I'm happy Shun is here. Would you like a warm drink?”
Shun nodded. “Ah, yes, please. I came here to do some homework, but I didn't expect it to be so quiet.”
Shun took his usual spot as he listened to Souma babbled about how bored he was while he made him his drink. He couldn't help it, but found himself listening to the other as if he was saying the most interesting stuff ever. The warmth and the nice smell filling the cafĂŠ soon made him feel rather cozy and comfortable.
“... So I've been cleaning the tables over and over. I already cleaned that one three times– here you go, Shun!”
Souma placed the hot cocoa on the table and Shun sleepily blinked at it, muttering a soft ‘thank you’ and taking a sip. Aaah, that was so good. He really made a good choice going there.
Souma quickly left him to do his thing, after all, he had tables to clean and clean. Shun took a few more sips of his hot drink before taking out his books and notebooks, the exams and final projects had him up to his neck; he needed to avoid distractions.
Avoid distractions.
Avoid distract… what on earth was Souma doing?
Shun frowned as he looked at the other going around a table, looking underneath it and then scratching his head in confusion as he mumbled.
“Where is it? Where is it? I had it in my hand a second ago…”
Ah, this guy. Was he really looking for that thing? He really was absent-minded, huh? Shun sighed, resting his chin up on his hand as he pointed at Souma’s apron.
“Are you looking for that white cloth on your apron pocket?"
Souma stopped mid-step and looked down, his face lighting up at the sight of the cloth in his pocket. 'Ah, that's where it had been all this time, huh?' was written all over his face.
“Ah, thank you, Shun– pfft!”
There he was again, shrugging and covering his face with his hands, giggles leaking from the small spaces between his fingers as his body shook with suppressed laughter. He really was something else. Laughing so freely like that, it kept surprising him, but, now…
“Oi, didn't I tell you not to hide your smile?”
“Hehehe- huh? A-Ah, I'm sorry, Shun. I still need to get used to it.”
Used to it, huh?
“I think I could help you with that.”
“Huh? What? H-How?”
Shun got up and he chuckled when he saw Souma stepping back. Just what kind of face was he making right now? Souma was just a couple of tables away, so with three long strides, Shun was right in front of him, his hands latching to Souma's waist.
Souma gasped, his hands grasping Shun’s wrists, trying to push them away. “W-What are you d-doing, Sh-Shun? This isn't- ah! Wahahahait! Nohoho!”
What is better than tickling to learn to show your smile, right? Shun thought Souma would be very ticklish and he wasn't disappointed at all. The poor boy squirmed, trying to get Shun's hands off of him, but they seemed to be glued to him.
Shun chuckled, did he find a very good spot?
“You really can laugh out loud. It's not that hard, is it?”
Souma shook his head, he tried to grit his teeth to stop the laughter, but Shun only needed to speed up the pace of his tickling to make him throw his head back with loud laughter. Souma's legs began to give out, his knees buckling until he fell to his knees, with Shun still tickling his waist.
“SHUHUN! Wahahait, plehehase! I'm tihihicklish thehere!”
Shun laughed softly, “that's good to know. What about here? Are you ticklish here too?”
Souma shrieked, flopping on the floor as soon as Shun's fingers climbed up to his lower ribs. Shun had to laugh as Souma squirmed on the floor, kicking his legs and trying to cover his ribs.
“Nohohot thehehere!” Souma arched his spine, shaking his head as Shun rubbed and pinched and dug into his lower ribs.
Was Shun very good at tickling or was Souma simply too ticklish for his own good? It was true that Shun himself had been under some ruthless tickles from his big sister and he knew a trick or two.
For example, pinching the back of the ribs, which was all too effective on Souma, who was laughing wildly with almost hysterical laughter, arching his back as far off the ground as he could, trying to get away from Shun's fingers.
Shun chuckled, looking at Souma laughing. He had a pretty smile, he had to admit and his laughter was a bit high pitched, but actually very pleasant to hear. Why was he so shy about laughing out loud and grinning like this? If anything, he was sure people would do anything to keep seeing that big, bright smile.
Like himself right now.
“AHAHAHA! Sh-Shuhuhun! I gihihive uhuhup! Plehehase, n-nohoho mohore!” Souma begged, tears of laughter glistened on his lashes. “I pr-prohohomise to s-smile mohore! I prohohomise!”
“Good… but just to make sure, I'm gonna keep tickling you until another customer arrive–”
“Oh, we’ve actually been here for a while now.”
The laughter and tickling stopped and both boys froze in place. Shun, with his fingers still connected to Souma's lower ribs, and Souma with laughter still stuck in his throat, looked up to see two young ladies giggling and sitting a couple of tables away from them.
Shun cleared his throat. “I… knew they were there.”
“... Pff! Ahaha! You didn't!”
Well, at least this time Souma didn't hide his smile!
37 notes ¡ View notes
wisecura ¡ 6 hours ago
Text
Sheets
megumi fushiguro x fem-reader
p.1
p.3  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.5
p.4
AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!
warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.
birthdays and interrogations
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Megumi’s foresight was right on the money.
His father hadn’t returned home after their spat—not for several days. You couldn’t help but wonder how often things unraveled like that between them, the tension simmering beneath the surface until it inevitably boiled over.
The next few months with Megumi fell into a steady routine. 
Megumi had started joining you for breakfast regularly, his quiet presence at the table becoming a comforting part of your mornings.
Though he didn’t say much, the steady rhythm of shared meals filled the space with a sense of routine, one that felt unexpectedly grounding. After school, he would return home, spending his evenings occasionally in your company, whether it was in the living room while you tidied or in the kitchen as you cooked. He still carried his signature scowl more often than not, but it had softened over time, losing its sharpness. He was warming up to you, slowly but surely. Feisty, yes—but no longer as distant.
You'd learned soon enough that Megumi wasn’t much of a talker, yet the conversations you did share held weight. There was a quiet vulnerability in the way he’d let his guard down in small, careful increments. It wasn’t much, just glimpses here and there of the boy beneath the tough exterior, it was enough to make your heart ache.
He’d ask questions about your day, mention things about school, or make begrudging comments about Toji’s latest absence or fight. These moments, fleeting and subtle, but you knew you two were finally getting close.
When Megumi's birthday rolled around, you wanted to throw him a party—something simple, but enough to show him you cared. When you mentioned the idea, he brushed it off, his scowl deepening as he muttered something about birthdays being no big deal. You could tell by the way his eyes lingered on you, a mix of disbelief and hesitation, that no one had ever gone out of their way for his birthday before. His embarrassment was almost endearing, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of surprising him.
Toji, unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be found on the day. You hadn’t expected him to show up, but that didn’t matter. You were determined to make Megumi’s day special. You decorated the kitchen with a few streamers and a handwritten “Happy Birthday” sign. It wasn’t much, but you hoped it would make him feel appreciated. You’d even baked a small cake—a recipe you’d found in an old cookbook—and the scent of frosting and sugar lingered in the air even after it was finished.
The biggest challenge had been deciding on a gift. Your clan had given you a small stipend—a rare concession you’d managed to secure during one of your carefully planned visits. You’d met with them once or twice, offering just enough feedback to maintain their interest without revealing anything significant. It was a fine line to walk, but it granted you the luxury of a little extra money.
Megumi wasn’t exactly forthcoming about his interests, but you’d noticed the gaming system in his room. It hadn’t taken much effort to discreetly check the brand and do a little research on popular titles that might suit him. You triple checked his current collection, making sure you didn't buy him a copy. You wrapped the games neatly, setting them on the table alongside his cake.
When he walked in and saw the setup, his reaction was everything you’d hoped for, even if he tried to downplay it. His scowl deepened, and his cheeks turned faintly pink as he mumbled, “You didn’t have to do all this.” But you caught the way his eyes softened, the way his lips quirked up ever so slightly, despite his efforts to hide it.
“You’re allowed to celebrate, you know,” you teased gently, pushing the wrapped gift toward him. “Come on, open it.”
He hesitated for a moment before finally reaching for the package. As he unwrapped the games, his expression betrayed a flicker of surprise, followed by something you might’ve called gratitude. “How’d you even know?” he asked, holding up one of the titles.
You shrugged with a small smile. “I have my ways,” you said, keeping your answer vague. No need to admit you’d snooped a little.
The two of you spent the evening together, enjoying the quiet celebration. You’d cooked one of his favorite meals—something he’d mentioned in passing weeks ago—and lit candles on the cake, insisting he make a wish before blowing them out. For all his protests and attempts to act unbothered, you could see it meant something to him.
As the evening wound down, Megumi sat at the table, fiddling with one of the new game cases. He didn’t say much, but the faint smile on his face spoke volumes. It wasn’t a big celebration, but it was something. And for the first time, you felt like you were breaking through that guarded exterior, just a little further.
Toji, meanwhile, continued his sporadic visits to the apartment. His presence was like a weather shift—unpredictable. Sometimes, his arrivals brought an icy chill, marked by curt exchanges and a tension you could almost taste. Other times, his visits erupted into heated arguments with Megumi, their voices echoing through the walls.
You’d learned when to stay silent, carefully observing the dynamic between them until you felt absolutely needed. When you did speak, your words were short, clipped, and almost always in Megumi’s defense. You couldn’t help it. The boy had a way of stirring up your protective instincts, and you hated seeing the rift between father and son grow deeper with every spat.
And Toji was never around long enough to deal with the aftermath of these arguments. Megumi would sulk in his room for the rest of the day, shutting himself away in a silence that filled the house. You couldn’t help but associate Toji’s sporadic presence with Megumi’s absence, and it made you feel lonely. You’d grown so attached to the boy—his quiet company, his rare smiles. And it was becoming harder not to resent the man you’d married. But you told yourself it could always be worse.
Your interactions with Toji weren’t all bad. He had moments of surprising thoughtfulness—checking in on you, asking if you needed anything. It was a nice gesture, though you weren’t sure how much sincerity lay behind it. If you were to ask for anything, it wouldn’t be money or material items—it would be for him to have a better relationship with Megumi.
One evening, as you tidied up after dinner, Toji leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, his sharp eyes watching you with an unreadable expression. This night was more tense, Megumi left almost immediately after dinner, the two of you bathed in silence. 
“You seem awfully protective of the kid,” he said, his voice low but pointed. “Almost makes me wonder if you’re planning something.”
You froze for a moment, his words catching you off guard. Placing the dishcloth down deliberately, you met his gaze evenly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged, his smirk half-formed, but his eyes remained serious. “Means I’m not blind. I see how you hover around him, how careful you are with your words. Makes me wonder if you’re working an angle.”
You bristled at his insinuation, your tone firm as you replied. “Megumi has nothing to do with this. I wouldn’t drag him into… whatever games my clan is trying to play. He doesn’t deserve that.”
Toji’s expression shifted slightly, something thoughtful flickering behind his sharp features. “So, you are reporting to them?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less piercing. He'd already assumed, but you were being so open with him. Especially with knowing he could send you away.
“Yes,” you admitted, though your voice softened with a hint of frustration. “But I’m not telling them much. Just enough to keep them off my back. I’m not here to be their little spy, and I won’t let them use Megumi for their bullshit.”
For a moment, Toji said nothing, his sharp eyes studying you with a weight that made the air feel heavier. He hadn’t expected your sudden outburst, the emotion laced in your voice cutting through the practiced composure you always seemed to carry. Around him, you’d been nothing but polite, your speech prim and proper—even when you occasionally butted into the heated arguments he had with Megumi. You’d been a quiet presence, never revealing too much, always staying just on the edges of their fractured household dynamic.
Hell, this conversation had only started because he’d noticed Megumi’s growing attachment and acceptance towards you—something that had caught him off guard. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. The kid was prickly and aloof with just about everyone, but with you? He was… different. More open, even if it was subtle. Toji hadn’t decided if he liked it yet, or if it made you a bigger threat. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust you—or if he even should.
His gaze boring into you as if trying to peel back your layers. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “You’re pretty sharp for someone so young. Playing your clan like that… takes guts. Or recklessness.”
“I’m not reckless,” you said firmly, your voice tinged with defensiveness. “I just know how they operate." You mumble more to yourself. "And I know how to survive.”
His smirk returned, but it lacked its usual edge. “Yeah, I can see that. But you’re still a kid. You shouldn’t have to play those kinds of games.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the faint trace of concern in his voice. “I’m not a kid,” you replied softly, the words echoing with a tone of defiance that felt uncomfortably similar to Megumi’s.
“You’re eighteen,” he countered, his tone gruff. “That’s young. Too young for this kind of shit. You’re not wrong about the clan. Hell,” he added, his voice tinged with a dark sort of humor, “they’ll probably have someone else lined up for you by the end of the week.”
Your chest tightened at the reminder, though you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “Why did you agree to the marriage then?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.
Toji’s gaze darkened, his smirk fading entirely. “Figured it was better than leaving you to someone worse,” he said, his tone evasive. “Doesn’t mean I like the clan bullshit. Never did. But I get it. You didn’t have much of a choice.”
There was an uncomfortable silence before he added, almost begrudgingly, “You need protection, too.”
You tilted your head slightly, studying him. His words didn’t entirely align with the aloof, dismissive man you’d been learning to navigate. “So, can I trust you?” you asked, half-teasing but with an edge of sincerity.
He snorted, his smirk returning faintly. “Trust is a stretch. But for now, yeah, you’re safe here.”
The unspoken sentiment hung in the air, heavier than the words he’d spoken. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a promise—or maybe both. Still, there was a flicker of something protective in his demeanor that gave you pause. Toji might not be easy to read, but for now, it seemed he wasn’t your enemy.
Your clan hadn’t let up during that first year. The snippets of information you’d provided weren’t enough for them—they needed more, demanded more, than you were willing to give. Representatives began knocking on your door with frustrating regularity, their polished smiles hiding their growing impatience. The landline rang incessantly, as though they were hoping to catch you off guard and glean some tidbit you hadn’t shared during your carefully measured visits.
You’d done your best to subtly turn them away, declining their offers with polite firmness and brushing off their pointed reminders of your “obligations.” But their persistence only grew. Sometimes, they even came during your shared dinners with Megumi, the unwelcome interruptions souring the brief moments of peace you’d managed to build. It was enough to leave a bitter taste in your mouth, leaving you somewhat salty. 
You hadn’t wanted him to get involved, but the way his sharp eyes followed you each time you returned from the front door told you he was paying attention. He wasn’t oblivious to the frequent visits, even if he didn’t say anything. Megumi had been kept out of clan affairs for most of his life, and you wanted to help keep it that way. Yet, every time you came back from one of those interactions, he seemed quieter, more withdrawn.
It was as if a silent itch gnawed at the edges of his mind, questions he wasn’t ready to voice aloud. He never asked you about it directly, but his watchful gaze and the tension in his shoulders said enough.
The questions they’d been asking lingered in your mind: Was Megumi truly as promising a sorcerer as they claimed? Would he eventually be adopted back into the Zenin clan and rise to take over as its head? If Toji Fushiguro doing anything suspicious? And you—were you doing your part? Building trust, forming a bond with the two, setting the foundation for future alliances? Should you be left at that house? Are you being useful?
The implications were clear. You weren’t there because you were wanted as a person; you were there as a tool. The ulterior motives behind their persistence loomed like a shadow over every waking moment.
But you had Megumi now. And Toji - even if he seemed to doubt you. He had every right to. And as long as Toji backed you, this was your home. This was where you belonged. For the first time in your life, you felt like you had something real—a family. A place that felt safe.
Megumi noticed the tension in your shoulders, the tightness in your jaw, every time you returned from one of those exchanges. Though you tried to hide it, you never quite managed to mask your emotions fully—not from him. He’d developed the habit early on of reading you, attuned to the subtleties in your demeanor. Without even realizing it, he’d become quietly vigilant, watching over you in those moments. Then again it was hard not to memorize something so radiant and warm.
In the short time you’d been there, Megumi felt like he’d come to understand you better than he expected. He’d learned so much about you—your kindness, your charisma, your warmth, and the way you had a knack for smoothing over the jagged edges in his life. It baffled him that you’d stuck around for as long as you had, but it also stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite define. Relief? Gratitude? Maybe even a flicker of hope. You wouldn't be leaving...right?
At first, he’d been hesitant to let himself get used to you. People left—that was the one constant he’d come to understand. No matter how much you wanted them to stay, they always found a way to slip through your fingers. And good people—people like you—seemed to bear the brunt of the world’s cruelty. Whether it was bullying at school or tragic accidents that seemed to plague the life around him, he’d learned that the world punished goodness more often than it rewarded it.
And then there were the visitors—those constant knocks at the door, pulling you into conversations you clearly didn’t want to have. You'd always laugh and wave it off, but he could tell you weren't exactly comfortable with it. Each time, his unease grew, an itch at the back of his mind he couldn’t scratch. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—would pull you away. Test your place in his life. Because that’s how it always went. Something always happened. It always did.
After a full year, everything...shifted.
p.5?
AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!
33 notes ¡ View notes
070chwe ¡ 11 hours ago
Text
AWKWARD — nicholas a. chavez
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
masterlist | inspo playlist
summary — a close friend’s destination wedding turns into an impromptu reunion between you and your all-grown-up college fuck-buddy. old flames reignite and tensions simmer in the italian sun, as you learn some sparks never really snuff out. inspired by awkward by sza.
word count — 25.1k
tags/warnings — feat. joshua hong, kim mingyu, a few other var. idols + ocs. fem!reader. forced proximity(?). eloping. 2 suggestive scenes. alcohol consumption (they’re in italy, it’s a lot of wine but nobody is drunk). best friends to lovers to scorned ex-situationship to friends to ???. angst for like 10 words because i just want everybody to be happy. josh and dae are plotting and scheming.
a/n — this is the longest piece i’ve written in years so i hope that you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. if anyone is interested besides me i may revisit these two in future as i am now Extremely emotionally attached to them. dedicated to my beautiful @titsout4nicholas who beta-read this and helped me flesh it out when i was stuck. please check out her writing at well!
Tumblr media
DAY ONE
The cab winds its way up a narrow, cobblestone path, the engine purring as the late afternoon sun bathes the landscape in a golden glow. Between clusters of cypress trees, you catch glimpses of Lake Como shimmering like molten silver. The air feels impossibly clean, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers.
Joshua’s family villa looms ahead—a masterpiece of terracotta and ivy, perched like a crown atop the hill. You exhale slowly, the flutter in your stomach intensifying. You’ve travelled halfway across the world for this.
The cab stops in front of the grand iron gates, and you step out, your heels clicking against the stones. The estate is larger than you imagined, almost intimidating in its elegance. Joshua had joked in his messages that his aunt’s villa could host royalty, and now, standing here, you’re beginning to think he wasn’t exaggerating.
You press the buzzer, your nerves prickling as the gate buzzes open. Your suitcase rattles behind you as you make your way up the cobblestone driveway, flanked by gardens bursting with lavender and roses. The door opens before you can knock, and Joshua steps out, a grin already splitting his face.
“You made it!” His voice is warm, just like you remember, and the sight of him is enough to loosen the knot in your chest.
“Barely,” you tease, letting him pull you into a hug. “You didn’t mention how many hills I’d have to climb just to get here.”
He laughs, stepping back to look you over. “Italy suits you. You’re already glowing.”
“Please, I’ve been here for less than an hour,” you say, shaking your head.
“Well, Dae’s going to lose it when she sees you,” he says, ushering you inside.
The entryway is breathtaking—vaulted ceilings, marble floors, and soft sunlight pouring in through tall windows. There’s a faint citrusy smell in the air, mixed with fresh flowers. It’s almost too much to take in all at once.
“Where is Dae?” you ask as you trail behind Joshua.
“Probably trying to micromanage something,” he says with a fond roll of his eyes. “You know how she gets. Let me call her—”
Before he can finish, Dae appears at the top of the sweeping staircase. She practically sprints down, her steps light despite the heels she’s wearing. “You’re finally here!”
She pulls you into a tight hug, her excitement radiating off her in waves. “You look amazing,” she says, holding you at arm’s length for a moment.
“So do you,” you reply, meaning it. Her hair is swept up in a sleek ponytail, and she’s wearing a crisp white blouse that somehow looks effortless and chic.
“We’ve missed you,” she says, looping her arm through yours and steering you toward the living room. “Come on, let’s get you settled. You can tell us all about your flight, work—oh, and your love life.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Please,” Joshua chimes in from behind. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet in the group chat. That usually means something juicy is going on.”
“I’m literally here for your wedding,” you say, trying to deflect.
“And we love that for us,” Dae says with a grin. “But don’t think for a second you’re getting out of story time later.”
Their easy banter pulls you in, warming you from the inside out. For a moment, it’s as though no time has passed since the four of you spent late nights cramming for finals in your college apartment.
But there’s an undercurrent of unease you can’t quite shake. It surfaces when Dae casually mentions that some of their other friends will be arriving later. When you ask who, Joshua cuts in with a teasing, “You’ll see,” before Dae can answer.
The villa’s guest room is as luxurious as you expected, with a high ceiling, a plush king-sized bed, and a balcony that overlooks the lake. You set your suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed and sink onto the mattress, letting out a long breath. The journey here had been a blur of airports, connections, and winding roads, but now, with the late-afternoon sun warming the tiled floor, the reality of being here finally settles in.
The villa hums with quiet life. Somewhere below, you can hear the soft clatter of dishes and distant laughter. Outside, the breeze carries the faint scent of lavender and rosemary, mingling with the warmth of the sun-soaked air.
You had barely finished catching your breath when Dae showed up, practically dragging you out of the room for a whirlwind tour of the estate.
“This place is magic,” she’d said, her excitement infectious as she led you down stone corridors and through hidden courtyards. Every turn revealed something new—a secluded fountain framed by climbing roses, a sun-dappled veranda, a cozy library tucked away on the second floor. “We’re using the garden for the ceremony. Just wait until you see it.”
The tour ended on the dining terrace, overlooking the shimmering lake. A long, rustic table had already been set with crisp linens, flickering candles, and bursts of wildflowers.
“This is where dinner will be,” Dae had said, her voice softer, almost reverent. “We wanted it to feel intimate, you know? Like something you’d do at home, but—”
“Much fancier,” you’d finished for her, smiling.
Now, back in your room, you find yourself lingering on the balcony, taking it all in. The lake stretches out below, its surface catching the last golden rays of sunlight. The moment feels quiet, still, a sharp contrast to the rush of life back home.
You let out a slow breath, resting your hands on the cool stone of the railing. It had been too long since you’d had a moment like this—too long since you’d seen Dae and Joshua, too long since you’d allowed yourself to just stop.
A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.
“It’s me!” Dae calls brightly.
You open the door to find her grinning, a whirlwind of energy in an elegant cream dress. “Dinner’s starting soon,” she says, glancing at you from head to toe. “Wow. You look amazing.”
You glance down at your outfit—a deep green dress that hugs your figure in all the right places. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Not bad? Excuse me, I look incredible,” she quips, flipping her hair dramatically before looping her arm through yours. “Come on. We’re sitting together, and you’ll want a drink before Josh starts his toast. He’s been rehearsing.”
The walk to the terrace feels like stepping into another world. The garden glows under strings of fairy lights, the long table a picture of effortless elegance. Music drifts softly in the background, mingling with the sound of laughter as Joshua holds court near the head of the table, gesturing animatedly.
“You did all this?” you ask Dae, marvelling at the details—the flowers, the candles, the cosy but luxurious ambiance.
She gives you a sheepish smile. “I had help, but yeah. It’s what we wanted—something small, personal. Just the people who matter most.”
Her words tug at something in your chest, and you squeeze her arm gently. “It’s perfect.”
As you take your seat, the warmth of the evening wraps around you, the glow of the lights adding a touch of magic to the scene. It feels like the start of something—not just a celebration, but maybe a shift, a moment to breathe and reconnect with the people who shaped the most important parts of your life.
“Breathe it in,” Dae says, nudging you with a grin. “This is just the beginning.”
The conversation around the table is light and easy, buoyed by Joshua’s endless charm and Dae’s quick wit. You find yourself laughing more than you expected, the warmth of the evening sinking into your shoulders and softening the edges of your travel fatigue.
“You two have met, right?” Dae asks suddenly, sliding back into the chair beside you after a round of wine refills.
You shake your head, glancing at the man Dae gestures to, sitting a few seats down. He’s hard to miss—tall, broad-shouldered, and ridiculously good-looking in a crisp white shirt that somehow makes him look even more tanned than he already is.
“Mingyu, this is my friend,” Dae says, leaning forward to catch his attention. “You’ll love her.”
Mingyu looks up, his easy grin spreading as he shifts his chair closer. “Ah, I’ve heard stories. You guys met in high school, right?”
You nod, offering a polite smile. “We did. And you’re…?”
“Mingyu,” he says, his voice smooth and warm. “Friend of Joshua’s. He’s been telling me about you guys for years.” He tilts his head, his dark eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You’re the one who keeps them in check, right?”
You laugh softly. “Someone has to.”
Dae nudges your arm, grinning. “Mingyu’s one of those guys who knows a little about everything. And he’s annoyingly good at all of it.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Mingyu says, leaning back casually. “I’m just here for the wine and the view.” His eyes flick to you for a moment, the faintest hint of flirtation in his tone.
You arch an eyebrow but say nothing, sipping your wine instead.
The conversation flows easily, with Mingyu sliding into the dynamic like he’s always been part of it. He teases Dae relentlessly, compliments her taste in wine, and somehow makes Joshua laugh so hard he has to set down his glass.
It’s almost enough to distract you from the quiet sense of anticipation that’s been building since the moment you arrived.
Almost.
You’re just about to ask Mingyu something about his work—he’s in hospitality, or maybe it was hotels?—when the quiet murmur of someone arriving pulls your attention to the garden gate.
Joshua stands, grinning broadly as he strides toward the gate. “Finally! Look who decided to show up!”
Your stomach twists sharply, and you glance instinctively toward the entrance.
Nicholas stands there, sweater slung over one shoulder, his shirt slightly rumpled as though he’d barely had time to catch his breath before arriving. The warm glow of the garden lights casts soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp cut of his jaw and the familiar intensity in his eyes.
Your fingers tighten around your wine glass.
He scans the group quickly, his expression carefully composed, but when his gaze lands on you, it falters just slightly. His lips part, and for a second, he looks…stunned. Like he hadn’t let himself consider the possibility of seeing you here, even though he should have known.
Then Joshua breaks the spell, clapping Nicholas on the back and pulling him into the fold. “Tough flight?”
“Delayed out of LAX,” Nicholas says simply, his voice as calm and measured as you remember. “But I made it.”
“And just in time,” Dae chimes in, standing to give him a quick hug. “We saved you a seat.”
Your stomach sinks as you realize exactly where that seat is.
Directly across from you.
Nicholas hesitates for the briefest of moments, his eyes flicking back to you as though weighing whether he has a choice. Then he lowers himself into the chair, nodding at the group.
The conversation resumes quickly, Joshua launching into a toast that draws laughter and applause, but you’re hyperaware of Nicholas’s presence, the quiet tension crackling in the air between you.
“Hi,” he says softly, leaning just slightly forward.
You force yourself to meet his gaze, offering a polite smile. “Hi, Nic.”
“Nic?” Mingyu interjects, leaning forward with a curious tilt of his head. “You two know each other?”
The question hangs in the air, and you feel Nicholas’s eyes on you, waiting for your response.
“He’s the fourth, in the core four. We went to college together,” you say evenly, keeping your tone light.
“More like survived college together,” Nicholas adds, his voice carrying just the faintest edge of warmth.
Mingyu glances between the two of you, something flickering behind his amused expression, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he leans back in his chair, that easy grin returning. “Must have been some college.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightens slightly, though he doesn’t respond.
You sip your wine, doing your best to ignore the heat creeping up your neck as the conversation shifts away from you. But every so often, you catch Nicholas watching, his expression unreadable, and you can’t quite shake the feeling that you’ve been pulled into something you’re not ready to navigate.
And when Mingyu leans closer later in the evening, his voice low and teasing as he asks about your plans for the week, you don’t miss the subtle way Nicholas stiffens, his eyes flicking briefly in your direction.
For the first time tonight, you let yourself smile—not for Mingyu, not even for yourself, but for the quiet satisfaction of knowing Nicholas is watching.
The evening stretches on, the laughter around the table mellowing as glasses empty and conversations shift. You’ve managed to find a rhythm, the conversation flowing with Mingyu, Dae, and Joshua, but the tension between you and Nicholas lingers in the background like an uninvited guest.
Mingyu’s presence has certainly helped lighten the mood, and you find yourself laughing more easily than you expected, your earlier discomfort slowly melting away. His stories are ridiculous, and his charm is disarming in the best way, but there’s no denying the undercurrent of awareness that pulses through the room whenever your gaze meets Nic’s. It’s like there’s an invisible thread pulling you back to a time that feels both distant and incredibly close.
“Alright, alright,” Joshua finally says, pushing his chair back as the conversation dies down. “We’ll have to call it a night before Mingyu starts telling us about his gym routine again. Believe me, it’s all the same.”
Mingyu laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Guilty. But seriously, you should try it sometime, Joshua. Your abs could use a little work.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Dae interjects with a wink, standing to clear away the empty glasses. “He’s just mad because I won’t let him teach me how to ‘properly’ lift weights.”
You smile at the easy camaraderie between them, but as the evening winds down and the group begins to disband, the weight of the unspoken words between you and Nicholas hangs heavily in the air.
The others drift off in pairs—Joshua playfully nudging Dae as they head toward the kitchen, Mingyu wandering off with a last cheeky grin in your direction. You’re halfway to gathering the last of the plates when Nic’s voice stops you.
“Let me.”
You look up to see him standing there, hands already reaching for the empty bottles on the table. It’s a simple offer, but there’s something in his tone—something softer, unguarded. For a second, you consider brushing him off, but you step back instead, letting him take over.
“Thanks,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended.
Nic glances at you as he sets the bottles down, his expression unreadable. “You’ve had enough on your plate today.”
The comment feels loaded, though you can’t quite pinpoint why. You don’t respond immediately, instead fiddling with the edge of a napkin. He doesn’t move, lingering just close enough that the air between you seems to buzz with unsaid things.
“Long day,” you finally offer, shrugging, but your voice lacks conviction.
Nic leans his hip against the table, his gaze steady on yours. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know.”
Your chest tightens at his words, though you can’t bring yourself to look away. “Like what?”
“Like we’re strangers.” His voice is low, almost tentative.
You laugh softly, but there’s no humor behind it. “Well, isn’t that what we are now?”
The question hangs between you, heavy and sharp. Nic hesitates, his lips parting like he might argue, but then he seems to think better of it. Instead, he shakes his head slightly, as if trying to shake off the weight of whatever he’s feeling.
“Goodnight,” he says finally, his tone quieter now, but there’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe—in his eyes.
You nod, your voice caught in your throat as you watch him step away. The warmth of his presence lingers even after he’s gone, leaving you with a mix of emotions you can’t quite untangle.
By the time you make it to your room, the house is silent, save for the distant murmur of voices from the terrace. You sit on the edge of the bed, your hands resting in your lap, staring at nothing in particular. The weight of the evening settles over you like a thick, heavy fog, leaving your chest tight and your mind racing.
Nic.
You hadn’t let yourself say his name in your head for so long—not like this, not with every syllable feeling like a stone dropped into the still waters of your life. Seeing him again after all these years had cracked something open, something you’d buried deep and refused to examine.
He hadn’t changed much. The sharpness of his features, the confidence in his posture—it was all still there, though tempered now with a quiet weight that hadn’t been there before. And those moments, brief as they were, when his gaze softened on you, when his words carried a tenderness you weren’t prepared for… they left you raw.
The sight of him stirred up so many conflicting emotions, you didn’t know where to start. The anger—oh, the anger—was still there, simmering just below the surface. How could he leave you the way he had, without a word, without a fight? How could he stand here now, acting like he wanted to bridge a gap he created?
But it wasn’t just anger. It was the ache, the longing that twisted in your chest at the sound of his voice saying your name. It was the flood of memories, unbidden and too vivid: his laugh in the dead of night, the way his fingers curled around yours when he thought no one was looking, the warmth of his breath on your skin as he whispered something only meant for you.
It was the bitterness, too, of realizing how deeply you’d missed him, even when you swore you wouldn’t. Even when you swore you couldn’t.
And now he was here, standing just close enough to stir everything up but not close enough to make it okay. You thought you’d prepared yourself for this—Joshua and Dae had warned you, after all—but nothing could have readied you for the reality of facing him again, for the sharp edges of the past cutting into you with every glance, every word.
What did he want from you? What did he expect? And more terrifyingly, what did you want from him?
The questions swirled in your head, unanswered and overwhelming. You stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to will the thoughts away, but they wouldn’t go.
Part of you wanted to hate him, to let the bitterness overtake everything else. It would be so much easier than confronting the other part of you—the part that remembered what it felt like to love him, to feel safe in the space you’d carved out together, the part that wondered if he was here now to take that away from you all over again.
As you closed your eyes, exhaustion finally pulling at you, one thought lingered above all the rest, heavy and undeniable: what happens next?
And for the first time in years, you realized you weren’t sure if the answer scared you or thrilled you.
Tumblr media
DAY TWO
The kitchen is quiet when you enter, the early morning light streaming through the wide windows, casting golden streaks on the wooden floor. Nic is already there, standing at the counter with a mug in hand, wearing a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. The sight of him is… jarring, yet oddly familiar. For a moment, you pause, unsure if you should turn around and leave or brave the awkwardness.
He looks up just as you step in, his posture stiffening slightly. “Morning,” he says, his voice low, like he’s testing the waters.
“Morning,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral as you move to the coffee pot. You’re acutely aware of the space between you—too much history to feel natural, not enough familiarity to feel comfortable.
The silence stretches as you pour your coffee, the sound of liquid hitting the ceramic mug louder than it should be. You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting him to leave, but he stays rooted in place, fiddling with his mug like he wants to say something.
“You sleep okay?” he asks after a beat, his voice casual but his gaze flickering with something heavier.
You nod, not looking at him. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
The small talk feels unnatural, like both of you are grasping at straws to fill the silence. You take a sip of your coffee, letting the warmth anchor you.
“Well,” you say after a moment, your voice a little too loud in the quiet kitchen. “I’m gonna head out to the terrace.”
Nic nods, stepping aside to give you space as you move past him. The air feels heavy as you walk away, your shoulders tense until you’re outside and the cool morning breeze brushes against your skin.
You settle into one of the cushioned chairs on the terrace, pulling your knees up as you cradle your coffee. The view of the garden below is stunning, but your mind is elsewhere—on the kitchen, on Nic, on the way your chest felt tight just being in the same room as him.
The sliding door creaks open, and a moment later, Dae appears, holding her own mug of tea. She takes one look at you and immediately crosses the terrace to join you, settling into the chair beside yours.
“Stealing my spot already?”
“It’s not your spot. It’s the best spot,” you reply with a faint smile, trying to mask the thoughts spinning in your head.
Dae doesn’t buy it. “You’ve got that look,” she says, tapping her mug against yours. “You’re mulling. Spill it.”
You laugh softly, but there’s no point denying it. “You already know what I’m thinking about,” you say, leaning back in your chair.
“Nic,” Dae states plainly, and you glance away, caught. She leans closer, her smile mischievous. “So, are you going to talk to him? I mean, really talk? Five years is a long time, but… I don’t know. Maybe it’s time.”
You groan, toying with loose thread on your pyjama pants. “Dae, come on. I can barely get through breakfast without feeling like I’m going to drown in all the unresolved… everything. I don’t even know what I’d say to him. It’s not that simple.”
Dae shrugs, her teasing softening into something more thoughtful. “Maybe not, but you two were close once. Really close. And I know what he did was awful, but… he’s different now.”
You narrow your eyes, skeptical. “Different how?”
“I mean, people grow up, you know? They change.” She hesitates, then meets your gaze. “Nic’s talked about it, you know. Over the years. Not all the time, but enough for me to know he regrets it. Deeply. What he did to you.”
You blink, her words hitting harder than you expect. “He… regrets it?”
Dae nods, her expression earnest. “I think he’s always regretted it. He just didn’t know how to fix it—or if he even could. He’s told Josh and me that what he did was the biggest mistake of his life.”
You look away, the weight of her words settling heavily on your chest. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I think you deserve to know,” she says simply. “And I know you don’t owe him anything. Not your forgiveness, not your time, nothing. But I also know you. You don’t let people in easily, and when you do, it’s because they matter to you. He mattered to you once, and maybe—just maybe—it’s worth figuring out if he still does.” Dae watches as you stew on her words. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” you say, though you brace yourself.
“Do you still care about him? I don’t mean, like, pine-after-him care. I mean… as a person. As someone who was once really important to you.”
Her words settle over you like the warmth of the sun, and you know the answer without hesitation. “Yes,” you admit. “I’ll probably always care about him. I don’t know what that means, though.”
Dae smiles softly. “That’s something. And I’m not saying you have to figure it out right now. But…” She hesitates, then laughs lightly. “Okay, this is cheesy, but Josh and I have had our disagreements. Big ones. And what’s always worked for us is being honest. Like, painfully honest. Even when it’s uncomfortable.”
You tilt your head, curious. “He’s never hurt you the way Nic hurt me.”
She nods, serious now. “No, he hasn’t. And that’s huge. It’s not the same, I know that. But you’ve always been one of the strongest people I know. I just don’t want you to close a door without looking through it first, you know?”
You look out over the lake, her words echoing in your mind. The idea of rekindling anything with Nicholas feels impossible, and yet… you’ve spent five years trying to bury something that clearly refuses to stay buried.
“I don’t even know if I want the door open,” you say after a moment, and Dae laughs.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to decide today. Just don’t lock it yet. You’ve got a week, give it some time.”
You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. Dae reaches over and squeezes your hand, the gesture grounding you. You sit together in companionable silence, the morning sun climbing higher as the day stretches ahead, the uncertainty of the week hanging just out of reach.
The estate had a life of its own, buzzing with the quiet hum of excitement and last-minute wedding plans. Over the next few hours, you spent your time catching up with old friends and new faces alike. Joshua’s cousin Johnny, loud and perpetually armed with a joke, seemed to find you every time you lingered near the sitting room.
“You’ve got to stop hiding in here,” he teased, leaning against the doorway as you gazed out the window, book in hand. “Otherwise, we’re all going to think you’ve turned into a hermit.”
Johnny’s relentless energy was matched only by Dae’s younger cousin Theo, who had arrived with his girlfriend, India—a warm and bubbly presence who made you laugh more than once with her stories about Theo’s less-than-graceful attempts at wedding prep.
And then there was Mingyu, effortlessly charming as always, slipping into every conversation with a wink or a quip that made you wonder if he was born to make people feel special. He had a way of lightening the mood, even when you found yourself retreating into your thoughts.
By the afternoon, the rehearsal ceremony began in the estate’s garden. The celebrant, a kind Italian woman with a melodic accent, guided Dae and Joshua through the motions. You stayed off to the side, a silent observer. Watching the way they looked at each other—full of shared history, love, and promise—made your chest ache. It wasn’t envy, not exactly, but it stirred something deep within you, something unresolved.
Yeri, Dae’s younger sister, took her role as maid of honor seriously, adjusting Dae’s dress and making playful jabs about how Joshua would probably cry during the real ceremony. Johnny, Joshua’s best man, was less focused, cracking jokes and dramatically mimicking the celebrant’s gestures until Dae swatted him on the arm.
You smiled at the scene, grateful to be part of such an intimate moment, even as a quiet observer. It felt like a privilege to witness this chapter of their story unfold.
The rehearsal dinner followed shortly after, hosted in a grand but cozy dining room adorned with soft lighting and fragrant floral arrangements. You were seated a few spots away from Nic, with Dae on one side and Theo across from you, his girlfriend India chatting animatedly with Mingyu. Johnny, ever the life of the party, held court a few seats down, keeping everyone entertained with his endless stream of stories.
“So,” Johnny said, pointing a fork toward you, “I just realized this is the first time I’ve seen you in years.” He turned to Joshua. “Wasn’t it your 21st birthday party when we met?”
You nodded, remembering the lavish house party Joshua had thrown during your junior year of college. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You spent half the night in a heated debate about Australian football with one of the bartenders.”
Johnny grinned. “Good times. But hey, I remember more than just the bartender. You two”—he gestured vaguely between you and Nic—“were definitely sneaking off somewhere that night, weren’t you?”
The table quieted slightly, and you felt your cheeks flush. You glanced at Nic, whose expression was neutral but whose jaw tightened just enough for you to notice.
“I mean, I’m not saying I was spying,” Johnny continued, clearly oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere. “But I remember catching a bit of a moment between you two. By the pool? Or was it the kitchen? Anyway—”
“Johnny,” Joshua interrupted smoothly, though there was an edge to his voice. “Let it go.”
Nic chimed in with a dry tone. “I think your memory’s getting creative.”
Johnny blinked, looking between the two of them, then raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. No need to gang up on me. Just saying what I saw.”
“You thought you saw,” Joshua corrected firmly, and Johnny finally seemed to pick up on the fact that the subject was off-limits.
Theo, sensing the tension, jumped in to change the subject. “So, India and I were trying to figure out the best time to visit Florence—any recommendations?”
The conversation shifted to travel plans, and you let out a quiet breath, grateful for the diversion. Still, Johnny’s comment lingered, bringing back flashes of that night—Nic’s hand brushing yours, the way he’d looked at you when he thought no one else was watching.
When dessert was served, you found yourself catching snippets of Nic’s voice as he spoke to Joshua and Mingyu. His laugh was warm, familiar, and it tugged at something deep inside you. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed hearing it.
Every now and then, you felt his gaze drift toward you, but he never let it linger long. It was almost as if he was waiting for the right moment to speak, but the moment never came.
The conversation at the table had settled into a comfortable rhythm after Johnny’s earlier slip-up, everyone enjoying the fine Italian meal and the company. Mingyu, seated just a spot down from Nic, leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass as he listened to Nic talk about his work.
“Josh tells me you’re a prosecutor in LA?” Mingyu asked, his eyebrows lifting in interest.
Nic nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. Criminal defense first, but I made the switch to prosecution about a year ago. It’s challenging, but I enjoy it. Keeps me sharp.”
Mingyu tilted his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Man, I don’t know how you deal with all that pressure. I’m just behind a counter, trying to make sure pastries look good enough to eat and that customers leave happy.”
Nic chuckled, a hint of admiration in his tone. “Don’t sell yourself short. Managing a bakery chain sounds like it comes with its own kind of stress. And let’s be honest, no one’s day gets worse because of a croissant.”
Mingyu grinned, leaning forward. “True. But the way some people act when we run out of almond tarts? You’d think I committed a crime. At least you’re dealing with actual criminals.”
Nic laughed, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick with my courtroom drama. Pastry wars sound way too intense for me.”
Mingyu laughed, the sound warm and infectious as he leaned back in his chair. Then his gaze shifted to you, his curiosity genuine. “What about you? What’s your story?”
You took a sip of your wine, smiling. “I’m an oral surgeon.”
Before you could elaborate, Nic’s voice cut in smoothly. “A damn good one, too.”
The unexpected compliment hung in the air, and your cheeks warmed despite yourself. You glanced at Nic, whose expression was sincere, though he quickly looked away, his fingers fidgeting with the stem of his glass.
“Well,” you said with a small shrug, trying to play it off, “he’s not wrong.”
Mingyu grinned, clearly impressed. “Guess I know who to call if I ever need a new jaw.”
You smirked, your response coming easily. “I’m not expecting that call anytime soon. Your jaw looks perfectly fine from where I’m sitting”
The table laughed at your quick retort, and even Nic cracked a smile, though his fingers tightened slightly around his glass. You couldn’t quite tell if it was the flirtation or the ease with which you’d fallen into it that bothered him.
Mingyu leaned in, still grinning. “Good to know I’ve got the expert’s seal of approval.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased lightly, turning your attention back to your plate.
As the conversation shifted again, Nic remained mostly quiet, only chiming in here and there. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was holding back on purpose—or if he was waiting for the right moment to say something more meaningful.
While his praise had flattered you, it also left you feeling a little unsteady. He hadn’t said a word about the way things ended between you, and until he did, it was impossible to tell what his intentions for the week might be.
Still, there was a part of you that wanted to believe the look in his eyes—warm, familiar, and perhaps a little regretful—was a step toward something better, even if you weren’t sure what that better looked like just yet.
The sound of clinking glass and running water draws you toward the kitchen as the evening winds down. Joshua is standing at the sink, rinsing a wine glass with the kind of precision that only he could make look natural. His blazer is draped over the back of a chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“You’re not the help, you know,” you say lightly as you step into the room, leaning against the counter.
Joshua glances at you over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And yet, somehow, I’m always cleaning up after Mingyu. He has this uncanny ability to use three glasses for every drink.”
You laugh softly, crossing your arms as you watch him. There’s a brief silence, the kind that only Joshua could make feel comfortable, before he turns off the faucet and turns to face you fully.
“How are you doing?” he asks, his voice gentle but direct.
You blink at him, caught slightly off guard. “I’m fine. Why?”
“Because I know you better than that.” He leans against the counter opposite you, his gaze steady. “It’s a lot. Him being here.”
You sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of his words. “I don’t even know how I feel, Josh. Every time I see him, it’s like—” You pause, struggling to find the words. “It’s like this hollow drop in my stomach, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m happy to see him or because I’m… angry that he’s here.”
Joshua tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe it’s both.”
“Maybe.” You chew on your bottom lip, the thoughts swirling in your head louder now that you’ve voiced them. “I don’t even know if I should bring it up. What’s the point, you know? It’s been five years. What am I even supposed to say?”
Joshua steps closer, resting a hand on your shoulder briefly. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Give it time. You’ve always been the more emotionally mature one between the two of you. I trust you’ll handle it the way you need to.”
His words settle over you like a thin veil of comfort, but the knot in your chest doesn’t entirely loosen.
Without saying anything else, Joshua moves toward the counter and begins brewing you a cup of tea. The soft clink of the kettle and the quiet rustle of the tea bags fill the stillness between you, an unspoken offer of calm in the midst of your swirling thoughts.
He doesn’t need to say much more—his presence alone, steady and unassuming, is enough. As the steam rises from the freshly brewed tea, you take a slow breath, letting the warmth of the moment seep into your bones, even if it doesn’t chase away the uncertainty that lingers.
Joshua sets the mug of tea in front of you, steam curling up into the air between you. The kitchen is quiet now, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as the rest of the house winds down for the night.
“I’m cutting you off for the weekend,” Joshua says with a teasing smile, leaning against the counter. “No more drip-feeding you wine, or you’ll spend every morning with hangxiety and then blame me for it.”
You laugh softly, cradling the mug in your hands. “You’re not wrong. You’re a terrible influence, though.”
“Hey, I’m the voice of reason tonight,” he counters. “Remember this when you wake up feeling human tomorrow.”
The two of you fall into easy small talk after that—light chatter about the rehearsal, the chaos of planning a wedding abroad, and how Dae is likely still tweaking the seating arrangements upstairs. It’s easy, familiar, a welcome distraction.
But eventually, Joshua straightens and grabs his blazer from the back of the chair. “I’m calling it a night. You should, too.”
You hum noncommittally, staring into your tea. “I will. Soon.”
Joshua doesn’t press. He just rests a hand on your shoulder briefly as he passes. “Don’t overthink it, ‘kay. Not all at once, anyway.”
A soft sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupts your thoughts, and you glance up to find Nic descending into the kitchen, his pyjamas a stark contrast to the polished image he usually presents. There’s something strangely domestic about him in this moment—almost familiar. His hair is mussed, his shoulders relaxed, and for a second, he looks like the Nic you used to know, back when things were easy.
“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, trying to keep things light as he moves toward the counter to fill a glass of water.
He chuckles softly, a hint of weariness in his voice. “Yeah, that or I just didn’t feel like staying in that giant bed all alone. Guess I’m just not used to it.”
The casualness of his tone makes you smile, but there’s a touch of sadness beneath it, something unspoken. He looks over at you, his eyes softer now, not the sharpness from earlier. The room feels smaller, and for the first time since you arrived, the tension between you two feels less suffocating, almost bearable.
Nic leans against the counter, sipping his water, his gaze flickering toward you with a quiet intensity. “I know things were… complicated, back then,” he starts, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “And I know I left without giving you any real answers.”
You feel a tightness in your chest, the memory of it still fresh, even after all these years. But he doesn’t press further, not yet.
“I don’t expect any huge conversations right now,” Nic adds quickly, his voice taking on a gentler edge. “But if you ever want to talk about… anything, I’m here. I know I screwed up. I just want you to know that.”
The simplicity of it catches you off guard. It’s not a grand gesture or an apology, but it feels like an olive branch, a small offering, an acknowledgment of the past without expecting you to jump right in. There’s a rawness in his words, something real and vulnerable that makes your heart ache, but it doesn’t feel too heavy. Not yet.
He looks at you for a beat longer, as though waiting for something—an answer, maybe, or a sign that you’re willing to meet him halfway. When you don’t immediately respond, he shifts his weight, seeming almost a little self-conscious.
“I mean, you know where I am if you need me,” he adds, his tone lighter, but there’s something there—something sincere. “For whatever it’s worth.”
You can feel the weight of his words, of the quiet truth in them. Maybe it’s nothing more than a flicker of hope, but it feels like a bridge, and you’re not sure what to do with it just yet.
For a moment, you both simply stand there in the kitchen, the sound of the clock ticking the only thing breaking the silence. The tension hasn’t disappeared, not by a long shot, but it feels different now. The air between you isn’t as thick, the distance not quite as vast.
You bring yourself to nod briefly, mustering up a small smile. “Thank you, Nic.”
Nic finishes his water and starts to move toward the stairs, glancing back at you once more. “Well,” he says, with a small, almost reluctant smile, “I’ll be around if you want to talk… whenever you’re ready.”
You nod, unsure of what to say. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make you wonder if maybe there’s a chance, however small, to heal what was broken between you.
As he heads upstairs, you stay in the kitchen a little longer, the warmth of the tea in your hands and his words lingering in the quiet. For the first time since you arrived, you wonder if there might be a way forward. Not right now, but maybe someday.
Tumblr media
DAY THREE
The sun is high and warm as you join Dae down by the grass near the steps leading to the lake. She’s sprawled out on a blanket, sunglasses perched on her nose, a chilled spritz in hand. You settle beside her, folding your legs under you and squinting out at the scene below: an impromptu volleyball game on the lawn.
Joshua dives for the ball with reckless enthusiasm, sending Mingyu into a fit of laughter as Johnny yells at him for botching the point. Mingyu sets the ball with ease, his towering frame and effortless movements commanding attention. Nic leaps, shirtless, to spike it over the net, his focus sharp, muscles flexing with precision.
Your eyes catch on him.
It’s the first time you’ve seen Nic shirtless since… well, since that night five years ago, the last time you’d touched him in that way. And what you’re seeing now? It’s very different.
He’s taller—or maybe just broader. His shoulders are like carved stone, his waist tapered and solid. His chest is thick with definition, and his arms look like they could snap a volleyball in half if he wanted to. And then there’s the six-pack, glistening slightly in the sun, drawing your gaze lower, entirely against your will.
Your thoughts betray you, running away into dangerous territory. What would those arms feel like now? Stronger, sure, but what about softer moments—hands brushing over your sides, pulling you closer?
Your thighs clench involuntarily, and the heat rising to your cheeks has nothing to do with the sun.
“You’re staring.”
Dae’s voice pulls you back to reality.
“I’m not staring,” you say, too quickly, shifting your sunglasses down to try and hide your expression.
“You are,” she teases, smirking. “I mean, I don’t blame you—look at him.”
You huff, feigning indifference. “When did he get so… big?”
“Josh says he’s been hitting the gym hard in LA,” Dae says, taking a lazy sip of her drink. “Work stress or something. Whatever it is, it’s working for him. And Mingyu too, for that matter.”
Your gaze flickers to Mingyu, who’s equally shirtless and equally distracting. He’s leaner than Nic, but just as tall, his arms roped with muscle, his easy grin radiating confidence.
Dae leans in closer, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “If things don’t work out with Nic, you could always try your hand at Mingyu. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”
“Dae,” you hiss, elbowing her, though you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.
She shrugs, entirely unrepentant, her grin widening. “Just saying. Your options are very tall and very broad right now.”
Before you can respond, the game wraps up with Joshua letting out a triumphant cheer, and Johnny collapses onto the grass in mock defeat. The boys gather near the water, catching their breath.
Josh heads your way, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, babe,” he calls to Dae.
She barely has time to react before he scoops her up, slinging her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing.
“Josh!” she shrieks, laughing as she flails. “Put me down!”
“Nope.” He strides confidently toward the water, ignoring her protests, and wades in until he’s waist-deep before dunking them both under with a laugh.
The others follow, kicking off shoes and tossing towels aside. Nic lingers, glancing up toward you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seems like he’s about to say something.
But Mingyu beats him to it.
“You just gonna sit there admiring the view,” he calls from the bottom of the steps, his grin playful, “or are you actually gonna join us?”
You roll your eyes, pushing to your feet. “Fine.”
You tug off the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on earlier, revealing the bikini you’d chosen—a simple design, but it fits well. Age has been kind to your figure. Your hips and breasts are fuller now, your waist more defined. You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s grin widens as he takes you in, nor the way Nic’s jaw tightens before he quickly turns to Johnny, mumbling something about the water.
As you descend the steps, you stop beside Mingyu, arching a brow. “If you stare any harder you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”
His grin turns coy. “Who, me? I’m just appreciating the scenery.”
“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, though you can’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips.
The cool water was a welcome distraction as you waded in, but it didn’t stop your thoughts from wandering. Mingyu’s easy charm was tempting, but it was the weight of Nic’s presence—the unspoken history between you—that lingered at the edges of your mind. As the morning sun blazed overhead, you couldn’t help but wonder which tension would win out by the end of the week.
You leaned back into the cool water, letting it lap against your shoulders as Mingyu floated closer. His easygoing smile was impossible not to return, and his playful energy seemed to dissolve any tension lingering in the air.
“You know,” he started, tilting his head as he treaded water, “I didn’t peg you as the lake-swimming type.”
You raised a brow, matching his grin. “What gave it away?”
“Oh, just the whole polished professional vibe,” he teased. “I figured you’d be more into heated pools or, I don’t know, champagne on yachts.”
You scoffed, splashing a bit of water in his direction. “Wow, way to stereotype.”
Mingyu laughed, dodging the splash dramatically. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s not every day you see someone who can pull off surgeon chic also out here braving the elements.”
“Surgeon chic? Braving the elements?” you repeated, incredulous. “It’s a lake, not the Arctic.”
“Still,” he said, grinning as he swam a slow circle around you. “I’m impressed. Multitalented, aren’t you?”
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “What about you? Do you always talk this much when you’re swimming?”
“Only when I’m trying to distract myself from how cold the water is,” he admitted, mock-shivering for effect. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he added, “Or when I’m trying to keep someone’s attention on me.”
You smirked, narrowing your eyes at him. “Subtle.”
“Subtlety is overrated,” he quipped, his grin widening. “But hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”
You splashed him again, laughing as he yelped in protest. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he said, blinking water from his eyes with a wide smile, “here we are.”
The sound of laughter carried over from the shore as the others waded back into the lake. Johnny, forever the instigator, suggested a round of shoulder wars, and the idea was immediately met with enthusiasm.
Josh hoisted Dae onto his shoulders with ease, her laugh ringing out as she adjusted herself. Johnny waved Nic over. “C’mon, big guy. You’re carrying me.”
Nic’s eyes widened slightly, but he shrugged, wading over and lifting Johnny onto his shoulders without much effort. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” Johnny replied, his arms raised in triumph.
Mingyu turned to you with a playful smirk, extending a hand. “Looks like it’s you and me, princess. Ready?”
You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. With surprising gentleness, he guided you up, steadying you until you were perched above the water.
“Comfortable?” he asked, glancing up at you.
“Not bad,” you admitted, gripping his shoulders lightly. “Just don’t drop me.”
“Never,” he replied, his tone mockingly gallant.
The game began with Dae and Johnny immediately going after each other, their laughter and taunts echoing over the water. You and Nic locked eyes briefly as you balanced on Mingyu’s shoulders, and something unreadable flickered in his expression before Johnny distracted him with a war cry.
Mingyu’s hands were steady on your calves as he maneuvered you into position. “You’re gonna let them win?” he teased, nodding toward Dae and Josh.
“Not a chance,” you shot back, leaning forward to push against Dae.
For a few moments, it was pure chaos—splashing water, shouted challenges, and laughter ringing out. Mingyu was solid beneath you, matching Josh’s strength easily, but Dae was relentless. She managed to shove you just enough that you wobbled precariously, though Mingyu adjusted quickly, keeping you upright.
“Close one,” he said, grinning up at you.
“Focus,” you shot back, swatting at Dae again.
At some point, Johnny made his move, lunging toward you and Dae simultaneously in a fit of uncoordinated glory. You and Dae both shrieked as the impact sent water flying, and you toppled sideways with a loud splash.
When you surfaced, sputtering, Nic was already helping Johnny back to his feet, shaking his head at his antics. Mingyu appeared beside you a second later, slicking his hair back with a grin.
“Not bad, partner,” he said, his tone teasing. “You’ve got some fight in you.”
You smirked, splashing him lightly. “You were a decent support.”
Across the water, Nic’s gaze flickered your way, his expression unreadable before he turned back to Johnny. The look lingered in your mind longer than you wanted to admit, even as the group dissolved back into casual laughter and chatter.
Mingyu drifted closer, his playful grin firmly in place. “So, do I get points for being the most entertaining person here?”
You snorted, splashing a little water his way. “Is that what this is? A competition?”
“Everything’s a competition,” he teased, brushing water from his face. “And I think I’m winning. You laughed, didn’t you?”
“Oh, please,” you shot back with a smirk. “I laugh at Johnny’s dad jokes, too. Doesn’t mean you’re special.”
Mingyu clutched his chest in mock-offense, a dramatic gasp escaping him. “Wow. Here I thought we were building something. Guess I’ll have to rethink my choices.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Might be a good idea.”
“Noted,” he said, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned back in the water. “But for the record, I think I’m still ahead of Johnny.”
“I’ll give you that much,” you conceded, the easy banter making it harder to stay in your own head.
But as you glanced back toward the group, the fleeting weight of Nic’s earlier look was still there, unshakable.
The afternoon unfolds lazily around you as you stretch out on a cane chair, the sun casting a warm glow over everything. The air is rich with the scent of the lake, fresh grass, and the faintest hint of wood smoke. It’s a perfect day, easy and unhurried, with nothing pressing and no rush to be anywhere.
You watch as Joshua and Nic sprawl out on the lawn, deep in conversation. Joshua’s laugh rises above the hum of the world, light and familiar, while Nic listens intently, nodding along with whatever Joshua is saying. There’s something grounding about the way they interact, a friendship that’s built on years of trust. You can almost feel the weight of it, the comfort they’ve always had with one another. Dae’s head rests in Joshua’s lap, her eyes closed as she listens to the conversation lazily, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his jeans. The scene is easy, peaceful, and yet, you can’t escape the undercurrent of tension that pulls at your chest every time your eyes flicker over to Nic.
Mingyu flops down into the chair next to you, pulling your attention away from the group. He stretches, cracking his neck, before settling into a relaxed slouch. His presence is a welcome distraction, a change of pace from the quiet storm brewing in your mind.
“You look like you’re in deep thought,” Mingyu remarks, his voice teasing but with a hint of concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Just… watching everyone,” you reply, settling into the chair more comfortably, one leg draped over the armrest. “Trying to catch my breath, I guess.”
Mingyu tilts his head, glancing over at the group on the lawn, then back to you. “Yeah, it’s a good vibe today,” he agrees. “Everyone looks so relaxed. I like that.” He stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “Feels like a long time since I’ve had a day like this.”
You raise an eyebrow, half-smiling at him. “You, taking a break? What do you even do when you’re not working?”
He lets out a dramatic sigh, sinking deeper into his chair. “You know, the usual. Travel, work, annoy people.” He glances over at you. “Like I’m doing right now.”
“Mm, you’re not the worst,” you tease, your smile growing as you let your gaze shift back to the others. Nic is still talking with Joshua, his voice carrying across the lawn, but there’s a softness in his posture now, like he’s more at ease.
Mingyu follows your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. “You seem very fond of Nic,” His voice is casual, but you catch the hint of curiosity behind it.
You freeze for a split second, caught off guard by his statement. You hadn’t expected him to notice, or at least not comment on it. But Mingyu is like that—sharp in ways you don’t always expect.
“Yeah,” you say carefully, letting out a slow breath. “We used to be really close in college, but time and life just got in the way. It’s strange seeing him after so long.” You leave it at that, not ready to get into the mess of it all. Not now, anyway.
Mingyu’s eyes soften, though he doesn’t press further. “It’s good to see you looking peaceful,” he says with a gentle smile. “Whatever happened, it’s obvious you’re doing okay now. I respect that.”
You nod, grateful for his understanding, and the conversation shifts away from the past as Mingyu begins to talk about his latest photography project. He shows you a few pictures on his phone, explaining the stories behind them—places he’s traveled, moments he’s captured. He talks about it with such passion that it’s easy to get lost in his words, the way his face lights up as he describes the scenes.
In some ways, it feels like a distraction you didn’t know you needed. But as Mingyu talks, your mind drifts back to Nic—how he looks at you, how he’s always been there, in his own way, even when you both tried to distance yourselves from each other.
“Have you been to Seoul?” Mingyu suddenly asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You blink, realizing you’ve missed part of what he’s said. “Sorry, what?”
Mingyu laughs. “I asked if you’ve been to Seoul. I know you’ve traveled a lot. You strike me as someone who would enjoy the culture there.”
“I have, actually,” you reply, smiling softly at the thought. “Joshua roped me into a trip with him and Dae not long before I did my post-grad.”
Mingyu grins. “I’ve got a few spots I need to take you to next time. If you’re up for it, that is.”
You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Are you offering a tour guide service, Mingyu?”
“Absolutely,” he says with mock seriousness, “I’m a professional at it. No one’s better.”
You laugh, the sound light and unburdened for a moment. It feels nice to let go of the tension, even if it’s just for a little while. But as the conversation continues, you can’t ignore the fact that your mind keeps returning to Nic—his presence, his silence, his eyes on you. The knot in your stomach tightens again.
Eventually, Theo and India join the group, and the energy picks up again as everyone starts chatting and laughing. You let yourself relax into the moment, but something still lingers in your chest. You’re starting to feel the weight of the past more and more. And you can’t help but wonder when you’ll be ready to put it down.
After lunch, the sun hangs lazily in the sky, the afternoon heat beginning to soften as the shadows stretch longer across the villa grounds. You find yourself walking slowly, your feet brushing the warm stones as you make your way back down to the water’s edge. The sound of the waves lapping gently against the rocks is soothing, and you sit at the base of the stone steps, letting the cool breeze from the lake wash over you. The world around you feels peaceful, distant, like a moment you could easily lose yourself in if you allowed it.
But you don’t.
Your thoughts keep circling back to Nic—his presence, his silence, the way he’s been watching you from the corners of your vision, like he’s waiting for something. You don’t know what that something is, but you’re starting to feel the weight of it, the heavy undercurrent of a past that won’t let you go.
It’s not long before you hear the soft crunch of footsteps on gravel, and you don’t need to turn to know who it is. Nic’s voice reaches you before he does, low and tentative.
“Mind if I join you?”
You glance over your shoulder, and for a moment, your heart stutters. There’s something in his eyes, a softness that’s hard to place, but you don’t bristle. You nod, shifting slightly to give him space, and he lowers himself onto the step beside you, leaving a small distance between you. The silence settles over the two of you like an old, familiar friend, though it’s different now. More fragile.
Nic watches the lake for a moment before speaking again, his voice quiet. “You and Mingyu seem to be getting along pretty well.” He doesn’t look at you as he says it, his gaze fixed on the water in front of him.
You chuckle, the sound coming out a little bitterer than you intended. “I don’t really know the guy. He’s just a sweet talker.” You glance at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Does it bother you?”
Nic exhales, shifting on the stone. “A little. Yeah.” He pauses, then glances at you, his expression softening. “It reminds me of how we used to be, you know? All the teasing, all the jokes… the way we’d just be there for each other.”
Something flickers in your chest, but you can’t quite place it. You tilt your head, studying him for a moment. “It’s funny, though,” you say, the words tasting dry on your tongue. “That it bothers you now. After all this time.” You turn your gaze back to the water, watching the ripples dance in the fading light. “It’s a little late, don’t you think?”
Nic doesn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, the only sound is the gentle lapping of the water against the stones. You feel the weight of the conversation hovering, suspended in the air, but there’s no rush to fill it. Not yet.
Finally, he speaks, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it.”
You don’t look at him, but the words settle into you, a reminder of all the things left unsaid. A reminder that maybe, just maybe, he regrets the way things ended between the two of you. You wonder if that’s enough.
It’s not. Not yet.
Instead, you just nod, letting the moment linger, your heart a mix of confusion and something else you can’t quite name.
After a long pause, you let out a breath. “It’s strange, you know. I don’t even know how to talk to you anymore. It’s like we’re strangers, but… not.” You shake your head, frustrated with your own inability to make sense of things.
Nic turns to face you now, his voice low but steady. “I know.”
There’s a beat of silence between you, and for a moment, you almost feel the weight of your past self and who you are now collide. It’s uncomfortable, raw, and you don’t know how to move past it. But you also know that this isn’t something you can avoid forever.
“Maybe it’s just the way things are,” you say finally, shrugging. “Maybe we’re just… supposed to be like this. With everything that’s happened.”
Nic’s eyes soften at your words, and he leans back against the step, his arms folded across his chest. “Maybe.”
You sit in the quiet with him, both of you staring at the water as the evening light begins to dim. Neither of you speaks again, but the air between you feels different now—heavier, maybe. But also lighter in a way, as though the words have started to open something that’s been shut for too long.
The silence stretches between you, the water lapping at the stones below. It’s almost like you’re both holding your breath, waiting for the next words to be said.
Finally, you break the quiet, your voice softer now, tinged with something that feels like release. “I don’t want to keep being angry at you, you know? It’s exhausting, and it’s never actually gotten me anywhere.” You shrug, though it’s more of a surrender than an answer. “I guess I just wanted answers. I still do.”
Nic is still for a moment, processing your words, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours. There’s something heavy in his eyes, an apology that seems to be hanging on the edge of his tongue.
When he speaks, it’s almost as though he’s talking to himself more than you. “I’m sorry that I left you to carry that alone. It wasn’t fair. I know that now.” His voice drops a little, quieter, like the weight of the years has finally hit him.
You feel a shift inside, the heaviness of his admission pressing against the tight knot in your chest. It’s not everything, but it’s enough. Enough to make you exhale deeply, to loosen the grip you’ve held on the anger, even if just for a moment.
The soft sound of the water fills the silence again. You turn your gaze toward the lake, letting the words settle. “I don’t know what the right thing to do is… but I don’t want to keep carrying all of this.” You glance at him, your expression guarded but tired. “Maybe… maybe I just need time.”
Nic doesn’t press, doesn’t offer anything more. He just nods slowly, as if he understands that this is only a small step. It’s not forgiveness, not yet, but it’s something. You can feel the weight of the years beginning to lift, if only just a little.
Tumblr media
DAY FOUR
The morning unfolds in a haze of sunlight and warmth, the air alive with the scent of coffee and maple syrup. You’re tucked into one of the rattan chairs with Dae and Yeri, your legs curled up beneath you as you cradle a mug of coffee. The villa feels slower today, the kind of quiet that makes you forget the world beyond its stone walls.
The boys are scattered across the terrace—Joshua stretched out on a lounger with a book, Theo and Nic lazing in chairs nearby. Nic’s head is tilted back, his face toward the sun, his posture uncharacteristically relaxed.
Dae glances at you over the rim of her mug, her expression curious. “So… things between you and Nic seem a little less… icy today.”
Your heart skips at the observation, though you try not to show it. “It’s nothing,” you murmur, shrugging as casually as you can manage. “We just… talked a little last night.”
Yeri leans forward, her interest piqued. “Talked? Like, really talked?”
“Not really,” you say quickly, taking a sip of your coffee. “Just enough to make it less weird, I guess.”
Dae hums, clearly unsatisfied. “And?”
You glance toward Nic without meaning to. He’s still lounging, his face unreadable, but the memory of last night lingers—his voice, the softness in his eyes, the way he’d apologized without trying to make excuses. It had felt… different.
“And it’s fine,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “We’re fine.”
Yeri smirks. “Sure you are.”
Before you can protest, Mingyu strides onto the terrace, a triumphant grin plastered across his face. He’s balancing a platter piled high with golden pancakes in one hand and a bowl of syrup in the other. “Breakfast is served,” he declares proudly, setting the food down on the table in the center of the group.
“About time,” Theo groans, already reaching for a plate.
“Hey, perfection takes time,” Mingyu shoots back, snagging a pancake for himself before flopping into a chair.
You grab one as well, drizzling it lightly with syrup. The first bite is warm, fluffy, and just sweet enough to feel indulgent. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” you say, glancing at Mingyu. “These are good.”
He beams. “I accept your praise.”
Even Nic chimes in, his voice filled with rare levity. “I hate to admit it, but these might be the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”
Mingyu looks genuinely pleased, throwing an exaggerated bow in Nic’s direction. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as the highest compliment.”
Nic doesn’t respond, too focused on his plate, but the easy smile on his face is impossible to miss.
Dae nudges you gently with her elbow, her voice low. “Look at him. It’s like pancakes cured his bad mood.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Maybe I should’ve just offered him pancakes five years ago.”
Dae snorts into her coffee, and Yeri joins in, her laugh a bright, unrestrained sound that makes you smile despite yourself.
The rest of the morning is filled with the kind of light, easy chatter that feels like a reprieve. Mingyu laps up the compliments, Joshua ribs him about his “culinary aspirations,” and even Nic seems lighter, his usual edges softened by the warmth of the day. And though you tell yourself you’re not watching him, you catch yourself glancing his way more often than you’d like, your heart tugging in a way you’re not quite ready to admit.
Before long, Dae ushered everyone toward the cars, her excitement contagious. “Alright, folks, next stop: a winery I found just outside of town. Trust me, it’s adorable, and the wine’s supposed to be incredible.”
Mingyu fell into step beside you as you climbed into one of the cars his tone teasing. “You’re not one of those people who pretends to know what ‘hints of oak’ means, are you?”
You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “Please, I barely know the difference between red and white.”
He smirked, leaning in just slightly. “Good. That means I get to teach you a thing or two.”
“Lucky me,” you quipped, trying not to notice the way Nic, sitting just behind you, shifted slightly in his seat, his gaze flicking between the two of you.
When you arrived at the winery, the view stole your breath. Rolling hills stretched out in every direction, the vines bathed in golden sunlight. The group gathered near the tasting room, Dae already chatting animatedly with one of the hosts.
As the first round of glasses was handed out, Mingyu sidled up to you again, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To learning the fine art of wine tasting. Stick with me, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”
“Is that right?” you asked, amused.
“Absolutely,” he said, his grin wide. “Step one: swirl dramatically. Bonus points if you look like you’re solving the mysteries of the universe.”
You laughed, swirling your glass with exaggerated flair. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” he said, tipping his glass toward you.
Nic, who had been standing nearby, cleared his throat lightly, stepping closer to join the conversation. “Or,” he interjected, his tone even, “you could just enjoy it without the theatrics. Not everything needs to be a performance.”
Mingyu raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What’s the fun in that?”
The three of you shared a laugh, the moment settling into something easy but charged. You caught Nic’s gaze briefly, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you before Mingyu nudged your arm gently, pulling your attention back to him.
The rest of the tasting continued in a similar rhythm—Mingyu’s playful banter, Nic hovering close enough to remind you of his presence, and you, caught somewhere in between, savoring the warmth of the day and the strange comfort of old wounds slowly beginning to heal.
As the tasting wound down, Dae—always a step ahead—waved everyone toward a narrow set of stairs tucked behind the winery. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder, her excitement infectious. “The host said there’s a rooftop up here. Best view of the sunset in the region.”
The group followed, glasses in hand, and you emerged onto a rustic rooftop scattered with mismatched chairs and weathered tables. Above, the sky had begun to glow with shades of gold and blush, casting the surrounding hills in a warm, dreamy light.
As the sun dips lower, bathing the rooftop in a golden glow, you and Dae find yourselves alone again, tucked into the corner of the cushioned bench with the best view of the vineyard. Mingyu’s laughter echoes somewhere off to the side, his voice blending with the others as the group lingers over the last of the wine. You tilt your head back against the seat, staring at the streaks of orange and pink across the sky.
Dae nudges your leg with hers. “So… Mingyu.”
You groan, turning to give her an incredulous look. “Oh, not you too.”
She grins, unfazed. “What? I’m just saying, he’s been glued to your side all day. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
You shrug, trying to play it off. “He’s just being friendly. That’s how he is.”
Dae raises an eyebrow, her tone playful but pointed. “Friendly, sure. But come on, he’s keen, and you know it.”
You shake your head, exhaling a long breath. “He doesn’t even know me, Dae. It’s not like that.”
Her expression softens, and she leans back slightly, studying you. “Okay, fine. Then what is it?”
You pause, your gaze drifting toward the group. Mingyu is mid-conversation with Yeri and Theo, his smile as bright and easy as ever. For a moment, you feel the familiar comfort of his presence—the lightness he brings, the ease of being near him.
“He reminds me of… how things were with Nic,” you admit quietly, your voice almost lost in the rustling breeze. “Back when it was simple. Just the two of us, in our little bubble, with no expectations. The stupid jokes, the way he always felt just close enough to put me at ease. It’s like…” You hesitate, trying to find the right words. “It’s like I’m holding on to that feeling through Mingyu. Not on purpose, but—it’s there.”
Dae doesn’t reply right away. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, more serious. “So what do you actually want?”
The question makes you stiffen, and you glance at her, brow furrowing. “I don’t know.”
“Okay,” she says patiently, shifting to face you fully. “Let me make it easier for you. If this week ends and you and Nic go back to your separate lives—if you go another five years, or maybe forever, having nothing to do with each other—would that make you happy? Would you be content with that?”
The question hits you like a punch to the stomach, and your breath catches. The thought of never seeing Nic again, of walking away from this week without even a shred of closure or connection, sends a hollow ache through your chest. You swallow hard, staring at your hands.
“No,” you whisper, the word heavier than you expected.
Dae nods, as if she already knew the answer. “Then maybe you need to start building a bridge, rather than burning it.”
Her words settle over you, their weight undeniable. You glance back toward the group, your gaze lingering on Nic. He’s leaning back in his chair, listening to something Joshua’s saying, but there’s a distant tension in his expression that you recognize all too well.
You take a shaky breath, Dae’s advice echoing in your mind. Maybe it’s time to stop running from the past and start figuring out how to face it.
Dae’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, her tone both gentle and insistent. “All you’ve wanted this entire time was some answers, right?”
You nod slowly, the knot in your chest tightening as you glance toward Nic again.
“Then maybe it’s time you go and get them,” she continues, leaning forward slightly. “You might not totally hate what you find, is all I’m saying.”
Her words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, all you can do is sit with them, your pulse thrumming in your ears. You know she’s right. You’ve spent so much time running circles in your own mind, replaying what happened, questioning every moment, every word, every feeling. The answers you’ve been searching for aren’t going to fall into your lap—they’re sitting a few feet away, leaning back in a wicker chair with a glass of wine in hand.
But the idea of crossing that invisible line, of asking Nic to meet you halfway, feels terrifying. What if you don’t like what you find? What if his reasons—his answers—aren’t enough to fill the hollow spaces he left behind?
Still, Dae’s gaze doesn’t waver, her confidence in you steady and unshakable. “You’re not going to figure it out by sitting here, you know,” she says, her voice softer now. “Go talk to him. You’re braver than you think.”
You hesitate, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Finally, you draw in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you meet her eyes.
“Maybe,” you murmur, a flicker of determination breaking through the uncertainty. “Maybe you’re right.”
Dae smiles, leaning back with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Of course I’m right. Now, go.”
You sigh, dragging your hands down your face in exasperation. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Today has been too long, and I’m tired.”
Dae arches an eyebrow at you, her arms crossing loosely over her chest. “Okay,” she says slowly, the word drawn out like she’s testing it on her tongue. “Do it tomorrow. But you must actually do it. Don’t just say it and then decide you’re better off avoiding it entirely.”
Her tone is firmer now, but it’s not sharp. It’s grounded in a kind of steady care that only Dae can manage. She’s not pushing you for the sake of pushing; she’s doing it because she knows you need it. Because she knows you.
You let out a low groan, tilting your head back to stare at the fading blue of the sky. “Why do you have to be so relentless?”
“Because I know you,” Dae replies, deadpan, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You’ll talk yourself in circles until the week’s over, and then you’ll leave here thinking it’s easier to let it all stay broken. But I also know that’s not what you want.”
She’s right—of course, she’s right—but the idea of acknowledging that aloud makes your stomach twist. “I’m not running for the hills,” you mutter, your tone defensive but lacking bite.
“Not yet,” Dae says with a faint smirk. Then she softens again, her expression gentling. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but you owe it to yourself to at least try. And if you don’t…” She shrugs. “Well, I’ll just keep bugging you about it. Every. Single. Day.”
You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it,” she quips, a playful grin tugging at her lips before she leans back in her chair.
The thing is, she’s not wrong. You do need someone to keep you grounded, to hold you accountable when your instincts tell you to retreat. And deep down, you know she’s the exact person to do it.
“Alright,” you say finally, your voice quieter now. “Tomorrow. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
Dae’s grin widens, and she gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up. “That’s my girl. Now, drink your wine and relax. You’ve got one more evening to psych yourself up.”
After Dae’s talk, you’d thought maybe you could relax—enjoy the final stretch of the day, give yourself some peace before tomorrow. But instead, you’re stuck in the quicksand of your own thoughts, sinking deeper with every passing minute.
In the shower, you’d mapped it all out: what you’d say, what Nic might say in return. You planned for every possibility, every version of him that could show up. The defensive Nic. The remorseful Nic. The version of him who might even still be indifferent. What would you say to that Nic? You played the scenes in your head on repeat, fine-tuning your retorts, overanalyzing his potential expressions.
By the time you crawl into bed, your chest is tight, your limbs restless. You turn over once, twice, then a dozen times more, trying to find a position that feels less suffocating. The air in the room feels still, like it’s waiting for something, and you hate it.
What if he doesn’t give you the answers you want? Worse, what if he does? What if the things you’ve been holding onto for so long crumble under the weight of an explanation?
The clock on your phone ticks past midnight, and your mind is still racing. You picture Nic as he was this afternoon, stretched out on the grass, laughing at one of Joshua’s jokes. You picture him at the lake, sitting beside you, his voice low and careful as he apologized. You picture him five years ago, standing in the doorway of your shared dorm room for the last time, his silhouette etched into your memory like a scar.
What could he possibly say tomorrow to make any of it make sense?
You flip your pillow over, searching for the cool side, as if that will somehow quiet your thoughts. It doesn’t.
Instead, you start running through scenarios again, like rewinding a tape. Every question you might ask him, every possible answer he could give. How would you react if he said he was scared? If he said he didn’t know what he wanted back then? If he said he still doesn’t know? What would you say if he turned it all back on you?
You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion creeping into the edges of your body but refusing to take hold. You feel like you’re arguing with a ghost in your own head, spiraling until you can’t make sense of anything anymore.
Finally, when the weight of your thoughts becomes too much to bear, your body wins over your mind. The edges of your consciousness blur, your breathing slows, and sleep pulls you under, not gently, but out of sheer necessity.
Tumblr media
DAY FIVE
The day begins before you’re ready for it.
Your eyes flutter open, and the weight hits you all at once—the anxiety pooling in your stomach like cold lead. It’s the same feeling you get when you’re preparing to stand on a stage, the audience waiting for you to stumble. The same feeling you get when a patient walks in with a case you know will test every ounce of your skill. Except this time, it’s worse. This time, it’s Nic.
You lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as the early morning light filters through the curtains, feeling every ounce of your unease wrap around your chest like a vice. It takes you right back to college, to that night when everything fell apart. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips brushing your forehead, hear the quiet resignation in his voice as he said goodbye. The memory alone is enough to make you feel hollow.
When you finally get up, you’re quieter than usual. The group gathers for breakfast—coffee brewing, light chatter filling the space—but you barely pick at your toast. You sit on the edge of conversation, offering the occasional hum or nod but contributing little else.
Joshua notices first. He always does.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low enough that only you can hear.
You glance at him, startled out of your daze. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you murmur, but even you can hear how unconvincing you sound.
He doesn’t press, but his worry lingers in the way his gaze flickers back to you every few minutes.
By midday, it’s obvious you’re not yourself. At lunch, Joshua tries to pull you into a conversation about an old story from college—something about a prank Dae once pulled on him—but you zone out halfway through, staring into the middle distance. When he calls your name, you blink at him, startled, as if you’ve just surfaced from underwater.
“I’m fine,” you insist again when Joshua frowns at you.
But you’re not fine. You feel like your insides are twisted in knots, your stomach churning with a mix of dread and anticipation. You’re acutely aware of Nic’s presence—how he occasionally glances your way with a furrowed brow, as if he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong but doesn’t know how to ask.
At one point, you start to think you might actually be sick. Your palms are clammy, and your chest feels tight. It’s Dae who pulls you aside after lunch, sensing the storm brewing just beneath the surface.
“I found a steakhouse,” she says, her tone light but her gaze sharp. “Josh and I were thinking of taking a few of us there tonight. Theo and India have plans with some friends, so it’ll just be a small group. What do you think?”
You nod automatically, grateful for the distraction.
Dae eyes you for a moment longer, then offers a small smile. “It’ll be fun. You need a good meal—and maybe some wine.”
She doesn’t say it outright, but you know what she’s doing. She’s pulling you out of your own head, giving you something else to focus on. And for the first time all day, the tension in your chest loosens—just a little.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a haze. You busy yourself with menial tasks, anything to keep your hands occupied and your thoughts at bay. But the anxiety never fully leaves, sitting heavy in your stomach like a storm cloud on the horizon.
You’re slouched on the love seat, a book in your lap that you’re not really reading. The pages might as well be blank for all the attention you’re paying them. Your fingers trail idly over the edges, lost in your thoughts, the tension in your body building with each minute that passes. Your stomach churns with the same nervous energy you’ve been battling all day, the anxiety too thick to shake off.
You don’t hear him at first.
It’s not until the soft creak of the door pulls you from your thoughts that you look up and find Joshua standing in the doorway, his arms crossed loosely as he leans against the frame. His brow is furrowed, eyes gentle but with a hint of concern.
“You’ve been on edge all day,” he observes, voice quiet, like he’s trying not to startle you.
You don’t respond immediately, not sure what to say. You can feel the weight of the conversation you know is coming, the one you’ve been dreading, hanging over you.
Joshua steps closer, his voice softening as he drops down to sit on the arm of the love seat, next to you. “Dae mentioned you were planning to talk to Nic… seriously talk to him. How’s that going?”
A sigh slips from your lips, the sound thick with frustration and uncertainty. You’ve barely been able to think about anything else, and now that the time is actually here, your mind feels like it’s running in circles. You’ve prepared a thousand things to say, and yet none of them seem right anymore.
“I don’t even know where to start,” you admit quietly, your fingers tapping against the book absently.
Joshua studies you for a moment, the corner of his mouth turning up in a rueful smile. “I guess I can’t pretend to be Nic,” he says, his voice teasing but warm, as if trying to bring some lightness into the air. “But maybe I can help you figure out what to say.”
You let out a small, dry laugh, shaking your head. “You’re too much of a softie for this to work.”
“I am,” he agrees easily, not offended in the slightest. “But I know both of you. And I care about both of you. I don’t like seeing you two stuck.” He pauses for a moment, the weight of his words settling between you. “I just want you to be okay, y’know?”
You look down at your hands, the weight of his sincerity making something heavy shift in your chest. “I know,” you murmur. “I just… I’m not sure I know how to fix any of it. It’s so complicated, Josh.”
He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, I know it is. But maybe the first step is just being honest. With him. With yourself. There’s no easy way to do this, but you’ve got to start somewhere.”
He pauses again, considering you for a long moment before speaking again. “What is it you need from him? What’s the one thing you’ve been waiting to hear from him all these years?”
You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. It’s so straightforward, yet it feels like something you’ve been afraid to admit for a long time.
“I just want to know why he left,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to know why he couldn’t be honest with me. Why he just… shut me out.”
Joshua’s gaze is steady, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Okay. So that’s where you start. You need to say that. Don’t sugarcoat it, don’t try to make it easier for him. Just tell him how it felt. And let him answer.”
You nod slowly, the words hanging in the air between you. For the first time that day, you feel a flicker of clarity, a small shift in your perspective. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be perfect, but maybe it’s enough to begin.
Joshua gives you a small, reassuring smile. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”
You manage a tight smile back, the pressure in your chest lightening just a little. “Thanks, Josh. For being here.”
He shrugs, his grin widening. “Always, you know that.” Then he stands up, patting you on the shoulder. “I’ll be around if you need me. But you’ve got this.”
You watch him walk away, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You might not have all the answers yet, but you feel a little more ready to face what comes next.
The steakhouse is tucked into a cobblestone corner of the small Italian town, the kind of place that practically begs you to stay awhile. Its warm glow spills out into the narrow streets, blending with the soft hum of a nearby fountain. The scent of garlic and rosemary wafts from the open kitchen, mingling with the quiet hum of conversation and the clink of wine glasses. It’s intimate in the way that wraps around you like a soft blanket, and for a brief moment, it tempers the anxious edge that’s been eating away at you all day.
Joshua and Nic are seated at one end of the long table, across from each other. Joshua is in his element, throwing lighthearted jabs and pulling Nic into a story about some trip they took years ago. You notice that Nic seems… lighter. His laugh comes easier, and there’s a genuine warmth in his eyes that’s been missing for the last few days.
You, however, found yourself quieter than usual. The knot of nerves in your stomach hadn’t left, but the company and setting muted it into a low hum instead of the roaring wave it had been earlier.
Mingyu, ever attuned, seemed to notice your subdued energy. His usual flirtations softened into gentle humor, his tone warm and light when he spoke to you. “You didn’t order the steak well done, did you?” he teased with a faux scandalized expression, earning a small smile from you.
“Don’t worry,” you replied softly, poking at your potatoes. “I know better than to offend the chef’s sensibilities.”
Dae glanced your way a few times throughout dinner, her sharp eyes catching the moments you zoned out or stared a little too long at the flame of the candle in front of you. She didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you was pointed, as if to say: You know what you need to do.
The walk back to the villa was quieter than usual. You stuck close to Dae and Yeri, the three of you a little slower than the rest of the group, who were caught up in banter a few paces ahead.
Dae fell in step beside you, her voice low but direct. “So… are you going to talk to him, or what?”
The question hung in the crisp night air, sharp and slightly challenging.
“I’ll get to it,” you muttered, trying to deflect.
Dae stopped walking, her hand lightly gripping your arm to pause you too. “No, you won’t just ‘get to it.’ You’re going to do it. Tonight. Stop putting it off.”
You swallowed hard, her words piercing through your hesitations like a blade. She wasn’t wrong, and the accountability in her tone forced you to confront the truth: you had been stalling.
By the time you reached the villa, the group began to splinter off, some heading to their rooms, others lingering to chat in the living room. Your heart hammered as you lingered near the staircase, watching Nic head toward the back terrace with a glass of wine in hand.
You took a deep breath, steadied yourself, and followed him.
“Nic?” you called softly, your voice carrying into the quiet.
He turned, surprised to see you there. “Hey,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly as he set his glass down. “What’s up?”
You crossed your arms, the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Can we talk?”
Nic’s expression softened, his head tilting slightly as he took you in. “Of course,” he said gently, motioning to the seating area nearby. “Let’s sit.”
The terrace was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the breeze through the trees and the distant chirp of crickets. The villa lights cast a warm glow over the stone pathways, but you barely noticed any of it as you perched on the edge of the rattan lounger, your hands fidgeting in your lap. Nic sat beside you, his posture more relaxed than yours, though his fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair—an old tell of his own nerves.
You glanced at him briefly before your eyes darted back to your hands, picking at the skin around your nails. The anxious habit was one you’d never quite outgrown, and now, with your pulse hammering in your ears, it was back in full force.
Nic watched you for a moment, his voice breaking the silence. “You look like you’ve been carrying something heavy all day,” he said, softly enough that it didn’t feel like pressure, but firmly enough that you knew he wasn’t going to let you brush it off. “Take your time, though. I’m here.”
You nodded, forcing yourself to exhale slowly. The words were lodged somewhere between your chest and your throat, an awkward lump of anxiety and frustration. You knew what you wanted—closure, answers—but the act of asking for it felt monumental.
“You told me the other night that I could talk to you,” you started, your voice quieter than you’d intended. You cleared your throat and straightened slightly, forcing yourself to look at him. “That if there was something I wanted to say, I could. And… I need to.”
Nic didn’t respond immediately, but he nodded, his dark eyes steady on yours. The openness in his expression—no walls, no defensive edge—made you feel both reassured and exposed.
“I’ve been sitting on these questions for five years, Nic,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Five years of trying to figure out what the hell happened between us. And I—I need to know. I can’t leave here without at least trying to make sense of it.”
You paused, searching his face for reluctance or discomfort, but there was none. His expression remained steady, his head dipping in a subtle nod of encouragement.
“Okay,” he said simply. “Ask. I’ll answer as best as I can.”
You swallowed hard, gripping your hands together to keep them still. The anxious niggle in your stomach was back in full force, sharp and unrelenting.
“Why did you leave?” you asked, the words breaking the silence like a snapped string. “Not just after graduation, but… us. Why did you leave us?”
Nic’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips parting as if to respond, but then he hesitated. You saw the flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret—before he rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“It wasn’t because I didn’t care,” he started, his voice low, steady. “I need you to know that first. I cared so much it scared the hell out of me.”
You swallowed, trying to control the lump that had formed in your throat. “What were you so scared of, Nic?” The words came out almost too quietly, but you couldn’t stop them. “I cared too. It wasn’t just about losing the guy I was sleeping with—I lost my best friend, my confidant. And you—” You stopped yourself, trying to steady your breathing. “You never even tried to reach out. Why? Why didn’t you even try?”
You saw the flicker of regret pass over his face, and your heart sank. You had imagined so many answers, but none of them were quite like this. Still, you pushed on, the hurt and confusion boiling over. “I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me. I thought I’d just be a nuisance to you.”
Nic’s jaw clenched as he exhaled, eyes dropping briefly to the ground. Then, he looked up, meeting your gaze again with a rawness you hadn’t seen before. “I loved you,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I love you. And that’s exactly why I shut you out. I thought if we got too involved, if I let you get too close, I’d be asking you to take a risk you didn’t deserve. I couldn’t ask you to follow me—couldn’t ask you to uproot your life for me when I wasn’t sure if I could make anything work.”
The world seemed to tilt beneath you, the air sucked out of your lungs as you processed what he’d just said. The weight of it settled in your stomach like a stone, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt trapped in your chest.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you exhaled slowly, as if trying to catch your breath. “You loved me,” you whispered, almost too quietly to hear yourself. “You loved me, and you just… walked away?”
Nic’s eyes searched yours, desperate for understanding. “I never wanted to hurt you, not like that. I was trying to protect you from something I wasn’t sure I could give you. And that just made everything worse.”
“So I deserved to be shunned, instead?” Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, a mix of frustration and hurt. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Nic.” You take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything you never said until now. “I was grown then, and I’m grown now. I would’ve fought for you. We would’ve worked it out.”
Nic’s face tightens with frustration, but there’s something softer beneath it. He runs a hand through his hair, gaze turning away for a moment. When he speaks again, it’s a near whisper. “I don’t know what else I can say, okay? I can’t take it back, and God knows if I could, I would. If we could go back, and you told me you loved me, I would’ve said I loved you too, and you’re right—we would’ve worked it out.”
The weight of his words presses down on you like a boulder, but you can’t shake the feeling that it’s too late for anything to change. You rise from your seat, feeling the impulse to put distance between you and him, as if the cold night air could somehow steady your racing heart. Each step toward the edge of the terrace feels like a small attempt to escape, to regain some control.
The wind brushes against your skin, cold and biting, but it does little to quell the heat of the tears that are falling down your cheeks, each one stinging more than the last. You wipe them away, but they keep coming, and the cool air only makes it worse, as if everything inside you is unraveling in front of him.
Nic doesn’t follow you right away. He stays where he is, giving you space, yet you feel the heaviness of his stare on your back, a silent plea for you to turn around and speak, to say something more.
The silence between you stretches on. The words you’re both avoiding hang thick in the air. It’s suffocating, unbearable.
Finally, you turn back toward him, your voice quiet but firm, almost like a challenge. “What do you want, Nic?”
The question lingers in the air, sharp and direct. You’ve asked yourself that question a thousand times, but now, finally, you’re asking him. You want to know if this is just a moment of guilt, a fleeting regret, or if there’s something more. Something real. Something that could make everything worth it.
There’s a pause—a moment where the only sound is the faint hum of the villa settling in the night.
“I don’t know,” he says softly at first, the words unsure, as though he’s still grappling with his own heart, trying to understand the depth of what he’s feeling. But then, his chest rises with a slow, deliberate breath. His eyes lock onto yours, steady and raw. “No, that’s not true.”
Your heart beats faster, and in the weight of the silence, you can feel the shift. It’s as though he’s finally letting go of whatever wall he’d been holding up all this time.
“I want you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I want another chance. I want us. And I’m not gonna back out again. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m in this for the long haul. I won’t run when it gets hard. Not this time.”
The words hit you like a gust of wind, each one pulling you deeper into the current of everything you’d once wanted. But a part of you—an aching, cautious part—hesitates.
You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. You want to believe him. You want to let yourself go, to believe in the possibility of something real again. But you’re not sure. Not yet.
“Why does it matter, Nic?” Your voice cracks, the frustration spilling over, mixing with the raw ache in your chest. “At the end of the week, you’ll go back to LA and I’ll go back to New York. And we’ll both be in fucking shambles again for no good reason. I’m buying into the practice next year. I’m not gonna follow you this time.”
Your words echo between you, the raw truth hanging in the air. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re scared. You’re scared of doing this again, of letting yourself fall for him only for him to leave again. You don’t know if you can risk that.
He’s silent for a moment, his face unreadable. But then, out of nowhere, he blurts it out, his voice rushing forward like it’s been desperate to escape.
“I’m moving back.”
The words are out before he can fully process them. His eyes widen with the weight of what he’s said, and the air grows heavier, the silence thickening between you. It’s like the ground beneath you both has shifted, and neither of you knows exactly what to do with the revelation.
You blink, your mind struggling to catch up. “What?” Your voice shakes, both in disbelief and the sudden hope that flickers to life, only to be quickly masked by fear.
“My firm is opening another branch in Manhattan.” Nic sits straighter, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, almost as if the weight of his words is finally catching up with him. “I put my hand up to get it up and running. I get back next month.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Nic stands, his voice steady but softer now as he searched your face. “Because I need you to know I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Whatever that looks like for you—taking it slow, starting over… I’ll even let you beat the brakes off me in Central Park, if that’s what you need.”
His jaw tightened, and his gaze softened as he added, “It’s not about what I want anymore. It’s about what you need—what you want. I just want the chance to try, to prove I can be better for you.”
You stared at Nic, his words hitting you like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from your chest. He was standing so close, the intensity in his eyes almost too much to bear.
“I can’t,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is too much. I just… I can’t deal with this right now.”
Nic’s face fell, but he didn’t try to stop you as you stepped back, putting space between the two of you. “I understand,” he said quietly, his tone steady but tinged with sadness.
Without another word, you turned and walked away, the weight of his confession pressing heavily on your shoulders. You made your way back to your room, closing the door softly behind you before sinking onto the edge of the bed. The air in the room felt too still, too suffocating, as your mind raced with questions and emotions you didn’t know how to handle.
How could you trust him again? Could you even let yourself hope that things might be different this time?
The questions circled in your mind as you curled up on the bed, your thoughts too loud to allow for any real clarity.
A quiet knock at the door pulled you from your spiral, and before you could respond, the door creaked open. Dae peeked in, her warm, familiar smile softening as she took in your state. “Hey,” she said gently. “Can I come in?”
You nodded, too drained to say much. She slipped into the room and crossed over to you, settling beside you on the bed. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you, and you leaned into her, letting the tears that had been building all day finally fall.
“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “This was supposed to be your week, and I feel like I’m ruining it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dae said firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You’re not ruining anything. You’ve been carrying a lot for a long time, and it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. That’s what friends are for.”
You wiped at your face, exhaling shakily. “Nic said he’s moving back to New York. And that he still loves me. I don’t know what to do, Dae. What if he runs again? What if I let myself hope, and he just breaks me all over again?”
Dae’s expression softened further, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I need to tell you something. I overheard Nic and Joshua on the phone a few months ago. Joshua was helping him find a place in Manhattan because he knew Nic was planning to move back. He didn’t want to say anything until it was certain, but Nic’s been serious about coming back for a while now.”
You blinked at her, processing her words. “You knew?”
“I didn’t want to pressure you or plant any ideas in your head,” Dae admitted. “But for what it’s worth, I think he means it. He’s always regretted how things ended with you, and I really believe he’s willing to try this time.”
You sighed, your heart aching with the weight of your indecision. “What if it’s not enough? What if I let myself believe in him again, and it just falls apart?”
Dae squeezed your hand, her gaze steady. “Baby, I don’t have a crystal ball. I can’t answer that for you. But I do know that you’ve always been strong, and whatever you decide, you’ll be okay. If you’re willing to take the chance, though… maybe it’s worth it.”
Her words lingered as you sat together in the quiet, her arms a steady comfort as you tried to make sense of your tangled emotions.
Joshua’s entrance broke the stillness, his familiar warmth filling the room as he set a glass of water on the nightstand. He eased into the chair beside the bed, leaning back in that effortlessly casual way he always did, though his eyes flicked between you and Dae with quiet concern.
“Alright,” he began lightly, breaking the tension. “Which one of you do I have to yell at first?”
A small laugh escaped you, watery but genuine. “Definitely me. I’ve been the walking definition of a mess.”
Dae rolled her eyes, her arm still draped around your shoulders. “Don’t listen to her, Josh. She actually apologised to me for ruining our wedding week.”
Joshua’s head snapped toward you in mock offense. “You what?” he said, his voice exaggeratedly incredulous. “You think you could ruin this week? Please. It would take something a lot more catastrophic than your emotions for that to happen.”
“I mean it,” you muttered, heat creeping into your face. “I feel like I’ve been dragging all my baggage in here when this is supposed to be your time.”
“First of all,” Joshua said, holding up a finger, “you’re family, and family gets to bring their baggage—especially when it’s that guy,” he added with a sly smirk. “Second, you think Dae and I don’t love you, flaws and all? You’re practically my younger sister. Trust me, this week is better with you here, even if you’re crying in my guest room.”
The words, and the easy affection behind them, hit you square in the chest. Your lips twitched into a small smile despite yourself. “You guys are way too nice to me.”
“Absolutely not,” Dae interjected, squeezing your hand. “We love you. No qualifiers, no conditions. And you apologising? That just makes me want to shake you, but like, in a very loving way.”
Joshua grinned, clearly relieved to see a hint of your usual spark. “Yeah, you’re banned from apologising from now on, okay? Especially when it’s my fault for inviting Nic’s dumbass in the first place.”
You laughed, the sound rough but genuine. “You two make it sound so simple.”
“It’s because we’re geniuses,” Joshua deadpanned, leaning forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “But seriously, we’ve got you. No matter what. If you need a moment, take it. If you want to talk, yell, cry—whatever—you’re not going to scare us off. And Nic? He’s not going anywhere either.”
Dae gave an approving nod. “We’ve got your back, whatever you decide. But if it helps, we both think Nic is serious this time. He’s never stopped caring about you, and we’ve seen him wrestle with how badly he screwed up. He knows what he lost.”
Joshua’s voice softened, though it retained its teasing edge. “I mean, it’s hard not to love you. Even when you’re being dramatic.”
You rolled your eyes but felt your heart warm at their combined support. “I don’t know what I want yet,” you admitted, feeling the weight of the uncertainty settle over you again.
“You’ll figure it out,” Joshua said simply, standing and ruffling your hair lightly as he passed. “But just so we’re clear—you can take all the time you need, and we’re not letting you off the hook for being in our lives. Got it?”
The tenderness in his voice, mixed with his usual humor, steadied you. Dae’s arm tightened around you, and for the first time in days, the knot in your chest loosened just a little. You didn’t have all the answers, but for now, you had them. And that was enough.
Tumblr media
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
The dental lab was a ghost town at this hour, the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the quiet buzz of the sterilizers the only signs of life. Everyone else had long since packed up, leaving you and Nic alone amidst the neatly arranged tools and rows of workstations. The air was crisp, almost too cool, but you didn’t mind; the silence felt like a cocoon.
You were bent over a set of mock impressions, the tiny details demanding all of your focus. Or at least, they should have. Instead, your attention kept slipping every time you caught Nic watching you from across the room. He’d been “studying” for the past hour, but the way his chair creaked as he shifted, the way his pen twirled lazily between his fingers—it was clear his focus was anywhere but his notes.
“You’re going to burn a hole through that thing,” he finally said, his voice low and teasing.
You glanced up, your heart giving a small, familiar flutter at the sight of him leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out, his dark eyes heavy-lidded but alert. “Maybe if someone actually studied, they’d have less time to critique my technique.”
“Maybe,” he said, standing and stretching in one fluid motion, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach. “Or maybe,” he continued, making his way over to you, “someone needs to be reminded to take a break.”
“Nic…” You meant it as a warning, but it came out breathless, your voice betraying you before he even reached your workstation.
He didn’t stop. He stepped behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hands found the edge of the desk, caging you in, and his breath skimmed the shell of your ear.
“Take a break,” he murmured, his voice rough and coaxing, as if it wasn’t a suggestion but a plea.
Your fingers froze over the plaster mold in your hands. You could feel him everywhere—his presence, his warmth, his scent. He leaned in closer, just enough to let his lips graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and your grip faltered.
“Nic…” This time it was less of a warning and more of a surrender.
He turned your chair toward him, his hands firm but not rough, and knelt slightly, bringing his face level with yours. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might say something. Instead, he just kissed you—slow at first, but with a mounting desperation that sent a shiver down your spine.
Your hands flew to his chest, not to push him away but to anchor yourself. He kissed you like he couldn’t help himself, like he’d been holding back all evening and had finally given in. His tongue brushed against yours, and a soft sound escaped you, making him groan low in his throat.
“I can’t focus when you’re around,” he admitted against your lips, his hands sliding up to cup your face. “Scrub pants do you wonders, you know that?”
“If you get my after hours access revoked, you’ll be a dead man,” you muttered, but your words lacked any real bite, especially when he kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, as though he was savoring the moment.
Before you knew it, you were standing, the chair pushed back and forgotten. He guided you to the edge of the desk, lifting you effortlessly onto it, his hands firm on your thighs. The cool metal against your skin was a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressing against yours.
You tilted your head back, letting him trail kisses down your neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was something in the way he touched you, kissed you—like he couldn’t get enough, like he was memorizing every inch of you for a moment when he might not have the chance again.
“Nic,” you whispered, your voice catching as his lips found the hollow of your throat.
He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like yearning. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.
But you didn’t. You couldn’t.
Instead, you pulled him back to you, letting the kiss deepen, letting it drown out the world. The lab, the tools, the looming exams—they all fell away. All that mattered was him, the way his hands framed your face, the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing he could remember.
Tumblr media
TWO WEEKS LATER
The warm light of the setting sun filtered through the cracked dorm window, casting golden streaks across the rumpled sheets. The faint chatter of students outside was barely audible over the hum of the fan, and the air was heavy with the scent of summer and sweat.
Nic lay sprawled on his back, his arm tucked beneath his head, his other hand tracing idle circles on your thigh. He was relaxed, his breathing steady, his dark hair still damp from exertion. You lay beside him, your heart still racing—not just from what you’d just done, but from the way he looked. The lazy smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth, the sharp angles of his jawline softened by the golden hour light, the slight sheen of his skin.
God, he was beautiful.
Your eyes lingered on the slope of his nose, the way his lashes fanned across his cheek as he blinked slowly. It wasn’t just his looks, though; it was everything about him. The way he teased you endlessly but always had your back. The way his laugh made your chest feel like it might explode. The way he touched you, like you were something precious.
The thought consumed you, spreading like a wildfire through your chest. You loved him. You didn’t know when it had happened—maybe it had been gradual, or maybe it had been all at once—but you loved him, wholly and irrevocably.
And the words slipped out before you could stop them.
“I love you.”
The room seemed to still. The lazy patterns Nic had been tracing froze, and his head turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours.
“What?”
You swallowed hard, the weight of the admission crashing down on you. There was no taking it back now. “I said I love you,” you repeated, softer this time.
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her stared at you, totally blank for a few beats. “You… You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.
Your stomach twisted, and you pushed yourself up to meet his gaze. “Yes, I do. How could I not?”
He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something guarded. “Come on,” he said lightly, a weak smile tugging at his lips. “We’re just… having fun, right? Blowing off some steam before everything changes.”
The casualness in his tone hit you like a punch to the gut. “Just having fun?” you echoed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.
Nic rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I mean, we’re good at this, you know? No complications, no expectations.”
The ache in your chest deepened, but you forced yourself to nod, the pain silent and all-consuming. How could he not see it? you thought. How could he not feel it?
You wanted to argue, to tell him that it already was more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. Instead, you turned away from him, staring out the window. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Nic sighed softly behind you, but he didn’t say anything else. Eventually, his breathing evened out, and you knew he’d fallen asleep. But you lay awake, the ache in your chest growing with every passing moment.
When he woke hours later, the tension still hung thick in the air. Nic moved around the room quietly, gathering his things. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “See you later,” he murmured, and then he was gone.
Three days later, you walked into the library, the strap of your backpack digging into your shoulder. The quiet hum of hushed conversations and the rustle of pages greeted you as you made your way to your usual table. Joshua and Dae were already there, heads bent over their notes, but your heart sank when you saw Nic seated across from them, headphones in place.
He didn’t look up when you approached, but his posture stiffened ever so slightly.
“Hey!” Dae greeted you with her usual cheerfulness, sliding a chair out for you. “You’re late.”
“Got caught up,” you said shortly, avoiding Nic’s gaze as you sat down.
Joshua looked between the two of you, his brow furrowing. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Nic said at the same time you mumbled, “Yeah.”
The awkwardness was palpable. Dae’s smile faltered, and Joshua raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the tension.
Nic, seemingly determined to avoid any meaningful interaction, adjusted his headphones and focused on his laptop. You busied yourself with your notes, the silence between you louder than any words could have been.
The interaction that broke the tension was small, almost insignificant. Nic reached for a book that was just out of his reach, and his fingers brushed yours as you instinctively handed it to him. The contact was brief, but it was enough to make your stomach flip and your heart ache all over again.
“Thanks,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.
Dae, who had been watching the exchange with growing concern, leaned in closer to you. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on?” she whispered.
You shook your head. “Not now,” you whispered back, your voice tight.
You and Dae lingered behind in the library, packing up your things in a heavy silence. Joshua and Nic had left a few minutes earlier, their quiet conversation trailing off as the door swung shut behind them.
Dae studied you carefully, her lips pursed in thought. “Okay, what is going on?”
You blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
She rolled her eyes, closing her laptop firmly. “You know exactly what I mean. You and Nic. A week ago, you were practically joined at the hip, and now you’re treating each other like strangers. Did you guys have a fight or something?”
Your stomach churned at the mention of his name, and you ducked your head, fiddling with the corner of one of your cue cards. “It’s nothing, Dae.”
“You’re such a shit liar,” she said, exasperated. “Josh and I aren’t blind, you know. We’ve noticed the way you’ve been avoiding each other, and it’s weird. You two were always… good to each other.”
Your chest tightened at her words, the memories flooding back unbidden. The way Nic used to pick up your favorite lunch without being asked. How he’d stay late at the lab just to be your volunteer when you needed someone for a prac exam. The way his hand always found the small of your back when you walked side by side.
“You were so good together,” Dae continued, her voice softening. “I mean, Josh and I worked it out ages ago that you were… you know.”
Your head snapped up, your heart pounding. “You knew?”
“Of course, we knew,” she said, smirking a little. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it. The way you’d look at each other, how you’d always find some excuse to sit next to him or how he’d hang on your every word. It was kind of sweet, actually. So we decided to let you guys have your thing. But now…” Her smile faded, replaced by concern. “Now it feels like you can’t even stand to be in the same room as him, and I have no idea why.”
You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you. For a moment, you considered brushing it off again, but the knot in your chest tightened. You couldn’t keep this bottled up anymore.
“I told him I loved him,” you said quietly, the words barely above a whisper.
Dae froze, her eyes widening. “You what?”
You shifted uncomfortably, your voice trembling. “It just came out. We were in my dorm, and it was so… comfortable, you know? I wasn’t planning to say it, but I did. And he—” You broke off, your throat tightening.
Dae’s hands found yours, her brow furrowing. “And he what?”
“He brushed it off,” you said bitterly. “Said we were just friends blowing off steam. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like I didn’t mean anything.”
Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”
You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “It’s been eating me alive all week, Dae. I thought… I thought we were more than that. It always felt like more. And now he’s just… gone. Like he doesn’t care at all.”
Dae was silent for a moment, her expression shifting between shock and anger. Finally, she let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand over her face. “That idiot.”
You blinked at her, startled by the venom in her tone.
“I mean it,” she said firmly. “Nic’s an idiot. Because there’s no way he didn’t care about you. Not with the way he looked at you. And now he’s just throwing it all away because… what? He’s scared?”
You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t even know. He hasn’t said a word to me since that night. He just… shut down.”
Dae’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could fix this for you.”
“It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just… I don’t know what to do, Dae.”
She hesitated, biting her lip. “There’s something else,” she said carefully.
Your stomach sank. “What?”
“I overheard him and Josh talking a while ago,” she admitted. “Nic got offered an internship in L.A., some big shot criminal defense firm.”
The room seemed to tilt for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. “He’s leaving?”
“I think that’s why he’s been so distant,” she said quickly, her tone apologetic. “He probably didn’t know how to tell you.”
You stared at her, the weight of her words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “So he was just going to leave,” you said hollowly. “Without saying anything. Without… anything.”
Dae squeezed your hand tighter, her eyes brimming with sympathy. “I don’t know what he was thinking, but I do know this: Nic is an idiot, but he’s not heartless. He’s just… scared. Of what, I don’t know. But this doesn’t mean he didn’t care about you.”
You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. He made his choice.”
Dae hesitated, then pulled you into a tight hug. “I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need. And for the record, you didn’t deserve this. Not even a little.”
You buried your face in her shoulder, the tears finally spilling over. For the first time, you let yourself grieve the weight of what you’d lost—and the realization of what you might never have again.
After that day, everything changed. Nic stopped showing up to your study sessions altogether, leaving his usual spot at the table empty and the air heavier than it had ever been. Whenever Joshua invited him somewhere and Nic caught wind that you’d be there, he suddenly had plans he couldn’t cancel, excuses that sounded thinner each time they were shared.
The last time you saw him was at a graduation party a few weeks later. He’d stayed on the opposite side of the room the entire night, never once meeting your gaze. No apology. No explanation. Not even a simple well-wish. And just like that, he was gone.
Life moved on, as it always does. Joshua and Dae stayed in New York after graduation, rooting themselves in the city that had always felt like home to all of you. They kept their ties to Nic and to you, carefully navigating the distance and emotions that neither of you seemed ready to face.
They watched as you buried yourself in your studies, earning a coveted spot in a prestigious postgraduate program. They celebrated with you when you joined a prolific practice, one that would eventually make you one of the most sought-after specialists in the city.
And through it all, they watched you heal. Slowly, painfully, but bit by bit. They saw you piece yourself back together—brighter, sharper, stronger than before. But even as the years passed, the cracks remained, faint but unyielding, a quiet reminder of the part of yourself you’d once handed over to someone who hadn’t known how to hold it.
Tumblr media
DAY SIX
The next morning, Mingyu found himself lingering by the villa’s breakfast table, his thoughts far from the casual chatter around him. He couldn’t shake the tension that had simmered between Nic and you the night before. It was clear that something more than just playful flirting had been behind your exchange, and he hadn’t fully understood the depth of the storm that had been brewing between you.
Josh, who had been quietly sipping his coffee, noticed Mingyu’s brooding expression and raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, man,” he commented, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “What’s going on?”
Mingyu stews for a few moments before sighing. “I overheard [Y/N] and Nic on the terrace last night. I didn’t realise how serious it was to them. She’s so lovely and he’s…I don’t know. He seems to care for her a lot, and I’m worried I might have made it worse.”
Joshua tilted his head, a sympathetic smile softening his expression. “There’s a lot to it, but trust me, it’s not your fault. You weren’t to know, and honestly? They probably needed a shove in the right direction.”
Mingyu frowned, leaning back in his seat as if trying to make sense of the tension he’d witnessed. “What happened between them, if you don’t mind me asking? I feel like I’m missing pieces.”
Josh hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting as if replaying memories in his mind. “Nic and I went to high school together, as you know. They met through me in college when Dae and I started seeing each other. The four of us were inseparable and Nic and her became close fast, and by senior year, they were basically best friends who happened to be sleeping together.”
Mingyu raised an eyebrow, surprised by how casually he mentioned it. Joshua caught his look and let out a dry laugh. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was obvious to everyone but them that it wasn’t just casual. The way they were together—it ran so much deeper than friends with benefits. I think they both knew it, but they were too scared to admit it.”
His voice softened, and a faint trace of sadness crept into his tone. “Then Nic got offered an internship in Los Angeles. It was a huge deal for him, but he didn’t know how to tell her. And before he could figure it out, she told him she loved him.”
Mingyu’s eyebrows shot up. “What did he do?”
Josh sighed, his lips pressing into a tight line. “He iced her out. Completely shut her down. I think he panicked—he was so scared of trying to rearrange his life for her that he just decided it’d be better to throw the towel in. We used to study together every Thursday, without fail and at some point he stopped showing up. If I invited him somewhere and he knew she would be there, suddenly he had other plans.”
Mingyu nodded slowly, piecing together the fragments of the story. “They seriously haven’t spoken since then?”
Josh shook his head, his expression pained. “No. And the worst part? Nic told me after he moved that he loved her too. He admitted it was the biggest mistake he’d ever made, but by then, the damage was done. She worked so hard to rebuild herself after he left. Dae made Nic promise not to reach out because she knew she needed time to heal. And she did heal, in her own way, but Nic broke her in ways that I don’t think even she could fully explain.”
Mingyu exhaled, his chest heavy with the weight of their history. “That’s… brutal.”
“It was,” Joshua agreed softly, his gaze distant. “And I don’t think she was just upset that he left. She was angry because he didn’t give her a choice. She would’ve fought for him if he’d made even the smallest effort to keep her in his life. But he didn’t. He ran.”
“And now?” Mingyu asked, his voice cautious.
Josh’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “Now, they’re grown up. They’re different people with the same wounds. If they want to fix it, they’re the only ones who can.”
Mingyu nodded thoughtfully, his mind whirring as he connected the dots. “You don’t think I made it worse?”
Joshua’s gaze snapped back to him, his smile warm and reassuring. “Please don’t feel responsible for their quarrels, Gyu. This isn’t on you. It’s their responsibility to fix what’s broken. You just got caught in the crossfire.”
“I still feel like I should apologise to her,” he said, his tone laced with guilt. “I didn’t mean to stir anything up.”
Josh tilted his head, considering him for a moment. “I don’t think it’ll hurt, but I promise, she won’t blame you. She’s very reasonable—when people deserve it.” His smile turned playful, teasing him just enough to ease the tension in his shoulders. “And you definitely deserve it.”
Mingyu chuckled softly, though his expression grew serious again. “She’s been through a lot, huh?”
Josh nodded. “She has. But she’s also strong, and she knows what she wants. If you do talk to her, just be honest. She’ll appreciate it.”
Later that morning, Mingyu finds you stretched out on the lawn with a book in hand, the golden light of the late morning sun casting a warm glow over the villa grounds. A slight breeze ruffles the pages of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, and you pause to smooth them out, your gaze focused but peaceful. The serene moment is a stark contrast to the charged energy of the past few days.
Mingyu approaches cautiously, hands stuffed into his pockets as if he’s unsure of how to start. “That’s pretty heavy reading for a vacation,” he says lightly, nodding toward the book as he comes to a stop a few feet away.
You glance up at him and offer a small smile. “Sometimes you need something grounding. Keeps your mind clear when things get… complicated.”
Mingyu winces, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, about that…” He hesitates, clearly weighing his words. “Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you.”
Setting the book aside, you sit up and gesture for him to take a seat on the grass beside you. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
He lowers himself down, resting his elbows on his knees. For a moment, he just stares out at the horizon, gathering his thoughts. “I wanted to apologise. For… well, for anything I said or did that might’ve made things more tense between you and Nic. I honestly had no idea about your history, and if I’d known…” He shakes his head. “I just feel like I might’ve put you in an uncomfortable position.”
You study him for a moment, then shake your head with a gentle smile. “Mingyu, you didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have known, and honestly, it’s not your responsibility to tiptoe around our mess. That’s on Nic and me to figure out.”
His expression softens, though the guilt lingers in his eyes. “Josh told me a bit more about what happened. I just feel like I walked into the middle of something that’s been brewing for years and accidentally stirred the pot.”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe you did stir it a little, but sometimes things need to be stirred. It’s not like we were doing a great job of dealing with it on our own.” Your gaze drifts to the villa, where the weight of the past few days still lingers. “If anything, I should thank you. You’ve been nothing but kind and genuine, even when things got messy.”
Mingyu relaxes slightly, though his expression remains serious. “I mean it, though. I really respect you. I don’t know if I’d have the strength to even be here, let alone handle everything as gracefully as you have.”
You raise an eyebrow at that. “Gracefully? I’m pretty sure half the villa heard me crying last night.”
“Maybe,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But honestly? You’re handling it. You’re facing it head-on, even if it’s messy. That takes guts.”
His words catch you off guard, and you blink, letting them settle. “Thanks, Mingyu,” you say softly. “That means a lot.”
He nods, a warm sincerity in his gaze. “For what it’s worth, I think you should do whatever feels right for you. Whether that’s giving him another chance or walking away for good. Just… make sure it’s what you want, not what you think you’re supposed to do.”
You consider his words carefully, feeling a mix of gratitude and clarity. “That’s good advice,” you admit, your voice thoughtful. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
The two of you sit in companionable silence for a while, the weight of the conversation lifting slightly. Eventually, Mingyu stands, brushing grass off his pants. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to your heavy Roman philosophy. But if you ever need to vent—or just a distraction—you know where to find me.”
You smile up at him, genuinely touched by his support. “Thanks, Mingyu. Really.”
As he walks back toward the villa, you pick up your book again, but your mind lingers on his words. The clarity they bring feels like the first piece of calm amidst the chaos, and for the first time in days, you feel like you’re starting to figure out what you truly want.
After Mingyu’s apology, a sense of relief settles over you, but it doesn’t erase the questions or the lingering confusion. You spent the morning with Dae, trying to keep your mind occupied with light conversation, but your thoughts keep drifting back to everything that’s happened. The answers you’ve gained are helpful, but they don’t completely solve the storm raging inside of you. You’ve gained some closure, but there’s still so much you’re trying to process, especially now that you know Nic wants another chance. You’re unsure if you’re ready to give it, or if you even want to.
Looking for solitude, you escape to the garden, where the tranquil beauty of the estate contrasts sharply with the turmoil inside. Surrounded by the calm lake and vibrant flowers, you try to make sense of your emotions. The stillness around you feels like a reflection of what you want—peace and clarity—but it’s hard to silence the unease. You’ve been holding onto so much—anger, regret, and fear. Nic’s confession that he loves you, and his desire to try again, makes it all more complicated. Can you trust him again? Can you trust yourself?
The midday sun cast its warmth across the rippling lake, the golden light reflecting off the water like scattered diamonds. The air smelled faintly of wildflowers and pine, a comforting mix that you’d come to associate with this place. You were stretched out on a towel on the grass, letting the sun kiss your skin, trying to soak in the quiet and keep your thoughts at bay.
A soft rustle of gravel caught your attention, followed by the unmistakable weight of his presence. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Nicholas. Even after all these years, you could still feel him before you saw him.
When you did glance up, he stood a few feet away, one hand playing with a ring on his other, his gaze flickering between you and the lake. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and in his hand was a folded piece of paper.
“Hey,” he said softly, breaking the silence.
You sat up, shielding your eyes from the sun. “Hey.”
He shifted, his thumb brushing over the edge of the paper. “I, uh…wanted to give you this.”
Your brow furrowed as you looked at the paper. “What is it?”
“A letter,” he admitted, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance. “I wrote it after college. It’s…it’s everything I couldn’t say back then.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Why didn’t you send it?”
He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before he sighed. “Dae made me promise not to. She thought it would hurt you more than it would help.” His voice softened. “She was probably right.”
Your fingers itched to take the letter, but your chest tightened. “Why now?”
He crouched down, placing the letter on the towel beside you, his gaze steady and purposeful. “I want you to have this,” he said quietly. “I don’t expect anything from it, or from you. I just think it’s important for you to know the truth. When you’re ready, read it. I’ll be here, but… take your time.”
You stared at the letter, a wave of conflicting emotions rushing through you—curiosity, fear, and something deeper, more vulnerable that you couldn’t yet name. By the time you looked up, Nic was already walking away, his footsteps soft against the gravel path.
Before he disappeared into the distance, he turned back, his voice low as he spoke again. “I’m not running away this time,” he said, a hint of finality in his words. “Whatever happens next, I’m staying.” His eyes held yours for a long moment, before he gave a small nod and left you alone with the letter.
You sat there, the peaceful sounds of the lake and the distant wedding preparations surrounding you, but you could feel the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. The letter before you seemed to hold the answer to questions you hadn’t known how to ask, and now it was up to you to decide whether to open it, to face whatever truths it might bring.
Hey,
I don’t know where to start, so I guess I’ll just say I’m sorry.
Dae told me how bad things have been for you. I can’t stop hearing her voice, the way she said it. You don’t deserve any of this. You never did. I’ve been trying to convince myself that this is what I wanted—that running to L.A. was the right thing to do, that leaving everything behind was the only way to get where I’m going. But every day, I wake up and realize how hollow that is.
You told me you loved me. God, I already knew. I’ve known for a long time—probably longer than you did. You didn’t say anything I hadn’t already felt in the way you looked at me, laughed with me, or trusted me when no one else could. I don’t know why I let you say it first. Maybe I was waiting for the courage to admit that I felt the same way.
I didn’t handle it the way I should have. I should’ve told you how scared I was—scared of messing this up, scared of failing, scared of how much you already meant to me. Instead, I just ran. Because running was easier than staying and facing the possibility that I might not be enough for you, that this thing between us could break under the weight of my fear and ambition.
But it broke anyway, didn’t it?
Josh told me to write this down. He said it didn’t matter if it was stupid or if you’d never even read it—just that I needed to get it out of my head. I didn’t believe him at first, but he was right. I’ve been carrying this around like a weight tied to my chest, and I need you to know that leaving you wasn’t what I wanted. Not really.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to fix this. I don’t know if I deserve that chance. But if I do—if somehow you find a way to let me back into your life—I promise I’ll fight for you this time. I won’t run. I’ll prove that I’m not the same stupid, confused kid who thought a job in L.A. was more important than the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
I don’t expect forgiveness. I just needed you to know.
I miss you. More than I thought was possible.
Love, always
Nic
The letter trembled in your hands as you finished reading, your vision blurred by unshed tears. You folded it carefully, your chest tightening as you placed it back on the towel beside you.
It didn’t erase the hurt—nothing could—but it filled in the gaps. It explained the silence, the retreat, the way he’d pulled away when you needed him most. It didn’t justify it, but it made it human.
And as much as it stung to relive those memories, something in you softened. The vulnerability in his words, the raw sincerity—they weren’t things you’d ever expected from Nicholas. He wasn’t just apologizing; he was baring himself in a way he never had before.
For the first time, you believed he truly regretted what happened. And maybe, just maybe, you believed he was capable of change.
You found him in the villa’s garden, sitting on a low stone bench beneath the shade of a sprawling olive tree. His shoulders were hunched, hands clasped between his knees as he stared at the cobblestone path. The rustling leaves and distant hum of cicadas filled the silence until your footsteps broke through.
He looked up, and his eyes searched yours. There was a flicker of hope in them, but it was tentative, cautious. You could see the way he braced himself, as if ready for whatever blow might come next.
“I read it,” you said, stopping a few steps away.
He stood, stuffing his hands into his pockets, then took a hesitant step closer. “And?”
You exhaled, shaking your head softly as you perched on the edge of the bench. “It doesn’t fix everything, Nic. It doesn’t take away the pain. But… I think I get it now. Why you left. Why you didn’t say goodbye.”
Nic sat beside you, not interrupting, just listening. His eyes were focused on the ground, his posture tense but patient, as though he was waiting for you to continue.
You glanced at him briefly, your voice quieter but steady. “I’ve spent so long wondering if I’d done something wrong. If I wasn’t enough. But seeing it, reading it… it makes it more real, I guess. You’re not a villain. You’re not just someone who walked away. You had your reasons. I can see that now.”
His breath hitched, but he didn’t speak. His eyes searched yours for any sign of anger or resentment, but you felt only a quiet acceptance—your thoughts still swirling, but clearer than before.
“I won’t pretend this makes everything okay. It doesn’t erase how it felt, or how I felt. But it’s real, Nic. You’re not the guy I thought you were. It makes it… human.” You paused, looking away, unable to keep the tears in check for much longer. “But I can… understand. Finally.”
Nic’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back. His expression softened, and though he didn’t speak, there was an understanding between you now—a fragile crack in the wall that had been between you both for so long.
For a long moment, neither of you said anything. He let you breathe, let you feel it, without rushing in to explain or fix. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like you were beginning to make peace with the past.
Nic broke the silence, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “I’d like a chance to try again. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’ve changed.”
You studied him for a moment, his expression open, unguarded. For the first time, it felt like he wasn’t just offering you words—he was offering you a piece of himself.
“And now?” you asked, your voice careful, cautious.
“I’m moving back to New York in a month,” he said simply. “I’ve already taken the job. I’ll be there full-time, and when I am, I want to prove to you that I’ve learned from my mistakes. That I can do better.”
Your lips quirked into a faint, skeptical smile. “What makes you so sure I’ll let you?”
“I’m not,” he admitted, a flicker of a smile breaking through his seriousness. “But I’m willing to try. You’ve always been worth it, even if I didn’t have the sense to see it back then.” He paused, his tone softening. “And I know if I screw up again, Joshua and Dae will drown me in the Hudson before you even get the chance.”
You laughed despite yourself, the sound breaking some of the tension. “That’s probably true.”
“I mean it,” he said, leaning slightly toward you, his voice lowering. “I’ve spent years thinking about this. About you. And I know now that nothing I say will ever be enough unless I show you. So this is me, showing you. I’m here. And I’m ready to put in the work, no matter how long it takes.”
The sincerity in his words tugged at something deep inside you, though your heart remained guarded. “It’s not just about making promises, Nic,” you said softly. “It’s about proving you can stay. That you won’t disappear when things get hard again.”
“I know,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “And I will. One day at a time. One step at a time. I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight. I just want a chance to earn it.”
You studied him for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a quiet determination in his expression, a sincerity that felt unshakable. For the first time, you believed he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear—he meant every word.
“Okay,” you said finally, your voice soft but resolute. “Baby steps.”
A faint, relieved smile spread across his face, one that reached his eyes. “Baby steps,” he echoed.
It wasn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t fix everything. But for the first time in years, you felt the tiniest flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. Together.
You looked at him for a long moment, letting his words settle over you like the warm Italian breeze. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, no mistaking the quiet resolve in his eyes. This was Nicholas—not the man who ran away, but the one who was willing to stay and fight for you now.
And yet, the hurt was still there, a lingering ache you couldn’t shake. But so was the memory of what it felt like to be with him—the safety, the warmth, the certainty that no one else could ever occupy the space he had carved out in your heart.
Before you could overthink it, you shifted closer on the bench.
Nic’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as you closed the distance between you. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, resting your cheek against his shoulder.
For a moment, he froze, like he couldn’t believe it was happening. But then he turned slightly and arms came around you, holding you tightly, and he let out a shaky exhale against your hair.
His heart was pounding beneath your ear, so fast and so loud you were certain he could feel it, too. It was such a familiar rhythm, one you hadn’t realized you’d missed until now.
Neither of you spoke, but there was no need to. The hug wasn’t just an embrace; it was a beginning. The first crack in the walls you’d spent years building, the first tentative step toward letting him back in.
His hand moved up to cradle the back of your head, his touch achingly gentle, and you felt his lips press softly against your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered, so quiet you barely heard it.
You didn’t respond right away, letting yourself sink into the moment—the feeling of being back in his arms, of being home in a way you hadn’t been in a long time.
Finally, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your arms still looped loosely around his midriff. “Don’t make me regret this, Nic,” you murmured, your voice low but steady.
His gaze met yours, unwavering. “I won’t,” he promised.
And for the first time in years, you thought maybe—just maybe—you could believe him.
Tumblr media
DAY SEVEN
The garden was alive with warmth and laughter, the gentle hum of conversation mingling with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. A few rows of chairs were set out neatly in front of an archway draped in delicate linen and wildflowers, the blooms swaying lazily in the afternoon sun. Everything about the scene felt intimate and magical, the perfect backdrop for the day’s promises.
On the lawn just off to the side, Joshua and Nic were with Nabi—Dae’s niece, her joyful giggles carrying through the air as they took turns chasing her in playful circles. Joshua lifted her high in the air with ease, spinning her around before setting her down so Nic could crouch to her level and join in her antics. There was something achingly tender about the scene—Nic’s easy smile, the way he cradled her like she was the most precious thing in the world. It made your chest tighten and your knees feel a little weak. He looked completely at ease, his sharp features softened by the pure affection shining in his eyes.
You lingered near the garden entrance, letting the moment unfold, but Nic caught sight of you almost immediately. He froze mid-movement, his smile faltering for just a second before returning, this time softer, as his eyes stayed locked on you. Joshua noticed, his gaze darting between you and Nic before a knowing grin spread across his face. Nudging Nic lightly with his elbow, he murmured something you couldn’t hear, then patted Nabi’s shoulder as if signaling her to join in.
“Take Nabi with you,” Joshua said, his voice just audible now. “As backup.”
Nic gave him a look but obliged, standing and brushing off his trousers. As he made his way toward you, Nabi clung to his hand, bouncing excitedly on her toes.
“Auntie!” Nabi squealed, breaking free from Nic’s grip and running the last few steps to throw her arms around you. You laughed, stooping slightly to meet her hug, the warmth of her energy infectious.
“Oh, beautiful girl, I missed y,” you cooed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “You’ve grown so much!”
She stepped back just enough to get a full look at you, her big eyes going wide as she gasped dramatically. “You look so pretty, like a princess!”
You chuckled, smoothing the fabric of your dress. “That’s sweet of you to say, Nabi. But I think the real princess here is you. Have you seen your flower crown? It’s gorgeous.”
Nabi, ever observant, turned her attention to Nic, tugging on his sleeve to pull him into the conversation. “Uncle Nic, don’t you think she looks like a princess?”
Nic’s blush rose immediately, a soft pink coloring his cheeks as his gaze darted between you and Nabi. He cleared his throat, his usual confidence taking a backseat to something tender and vulnerable. “I do,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. “She looks beautiful.”
Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes lingered on you like you were the only person in the world. Nabi seemed pleased with his response, clapping her hands before Joshua called her name from across the lawn.
“Nabi-ya!” Joshua beckoned, his voice light with laughter. He crouched down the ground, saying something in Korean that you didn’t understand.
But Nabi did, and she squealed again, running off toward Joshua without a second thought. He gave you a quick wink before turning his full attention back to entertaining Nabi, leaving you alone with Nic.
“She’s exactly how I picture Dae was as a kid,” Nic said, watching them go with a faint smile.
“Causing trouble between unwitting adults? Pretty much,” you replied, glancing up at him with a grin. “You’re really good with her. It’s sweet to see.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, the blush still faintly there. “She was easy to befriend. I just had to give her a piggyback and promise ice cream later on.”
“Yeah,” you agreed softly, the weight of the moment settling between you. “I stopped by Dae’s suite earlier. She’s excited, but you know how she gets before big moments.”
“She’ll be fine,” Nic said, his smile warming at the mention of her.
“I don’t doubt it,” you said, your voice taking on a gentle fondness. “Josh is going to be a wreck, though. He’s going to cry the second he sees her.”
Nic chuckled at that, glancing over to where Joshua was fussing with Nabi’s flower crown again. “You’re probably right. He’ll deny it, but I give it two minutes before the waterworks start.”
“Two? That’s gracious,” you teased, shaking your head. “But, honestly? I’ll probably cry too. It’s hard not to with these two.”
Nic hummed in agreement, but you noticed his tie was slightly off—crooked and loosely knotted, the way it always was when he attempted it himself. Without thinking, your hand reached out, instinct taking over as you caught the fabric in your fingers.
“You never could do this right,” you murmured, stepping closer as your fingers caught the fabric of his crooked tie.
Nic stilled but didn’t move away, his eyes dropping to watch as you carefully loosened the knot.
“All these years of being a big-shot lawyer and prosecutor,” you teased lightly, your voice soft but steady, “and you still can’t figure this out?”
His lips twitched, the corner tugging up in a faint smirk. “Guess some things never change.”
“Clearly,” you replied, tugging the tie into a perfect knot and smoothing it down against his chest. You lingered for a brief second, the faint impression of taut muscle below your fingertips prompting a tingle in your knees before you stepped back.
“There,” you said, finally looking up at him. “That’s better.”
When your eyes met his, you found him already watching you, his gaze warm and unreadable, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“I don’t know,” Nic said, his voice quieter now. “I think it looks better when you do it.”
Your cheeks warmed at his tone, but you gave him a half-smile, trying to keep the moment light. “Good thing I’m here, then.”
Nic’s gaze softened as he looked at you, something unspoken passing between you as the celebrant called for everyone to take their seats. The air between you felt lighter—less burdened by the years of distance and hurt. It wasn’t everything, but it was something, and maybe, for now, that was enough. Together, you made your way to the front row, sitting side by side as the atmosphere shifted, the ceremony moments away. The weight of being at a wedding settled over you both, not heavy or suffocating, but warm and reflective, a reminder of the beauty in love and commitment. Nic’s hand rested on his knee, his fingers brushing yours for just a second before pulling away. It was a quiet gesture, but it said everything neither of you could in that moment.
The ceremony had been intimate, full of raw emotion and quiet vows shared under the archway of wildflowers and linen. After the applause and congratulations faded, Josh and Dae pulled everyone into the garden for photos. They made a point to gather everyone close for group shots, but it wasn’t long before the focus turned to the two of you—Nic, and you.
“Come on,” Dae urged, tugging at your hand with an almost childlike excitement. “Just one with the original crew. For old times’ sake.”
Josh beamed as he pulled Nic closer, the four of you automatically falling into place the way you had so many times before. Nic’s arm settled around your waist like a second nature, his hand gripping your hip gently as the photographer guided you all, and you found yourself smiling more naturally than you had in years.
As the camera clicked, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you, bittersweet and warm all at once. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was like no time had passed at all. These three had been your family once—Josh’s steady encouragement, Dae’s infectious laughter, and Nic’s quiet, unwavering presence. And now, standing there again, you realized they still were.
“Just one more,” Josh said, his voice light but fond as he glanced at Dae. “For the wedding album.”
Dae laughed, slipping her arm around his waist. “Fine, but I get to pick which one we print.”
As the session wound down, Josh and Dae were swept away for more couple’s photos, leaving the rest of you to wander back toward the villa. Nic fell into step beside you, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
“That felt…a little like old times, didn’t it?” he said after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful.
You glanced at him, his profile softened by the golden hour light. “It did. Almost made me forget how long it’s been.”
Nic smiled faintly, his gaze fixed ahead as he said, “Doesn’t feel that long when we’re all together like that. Like…nothing’s really changed.”
You wanted to say that some things had changed—everything had, really—but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just nodded, your footsteps falling into an easy rhythm with his.
By the time you reached the terrace, the space had been transformed for the reception. Strings of lights hung overhead, and the scent of wildflowers lingered in the air. The warmth of the garden gave way to a deeper kind of intimacy, the soft hum of conversation weaving through the evening as you and Nic sat side by side, the laughter and love surrounding you like a bubble that left just the two of you to your thoughts.
You couldn’t help but glance at him when he wasn’t looking, taking in the way the warm light caught the angles of his face, the faint lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Those years apart had added something to him—maturity, maybe, or weariness—but not enough to bury the man you’d fallen for all those years ago. It wasn’t the tailored suit or the polished smile or the gold plaque with his name on it that stayed with you now; it was the way he’d looked at Nabi earlier, the way he’d watched Josh and Dae exchange their vows with such a quiet intensity.
He caught you staring and smiled faintly, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to gauge where your thoughts had gone. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were suspended in time, the weight of everything unspoken between you making the air thicker.
The terrace fell silent as Josh rose to speak, his voice steady but rich with emotion. He spoke about Dae with the kind of reverence that only deep, abiding love could inspire, sharing stories that earned both laughter and tears from the small gathering. Dae followed with her own words, her usual confidence softened by the rawness of her affection for Josh.
The speeches struck a chord in you, each word a gentle nudge toward memories you thought you’d buried. You felt Nic shift beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned forward, his attention fixed on the couple at the head of the table. You knew he was thinking about them—about what they had—but you also knew he was thinking about you.
Then, Dae turned her attention to you, her smile mischievous as she raised her glass. “I think it’s only fair,” she said, her voice light and teasing, “that someone else says something too.” She pointed a perfectly manicured nail directly at you. “You’ve known both Josh and me longer than almost anyone here. You should say a few words.”
Your heart leapt into your throat, and you shook your head quickly. “Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
“You absolutely could,” Josh interrupted with a grin, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, don’t leave us hanging.”
The guests clapped lightly, encouraging you, and with a deep breath, you rose to your feet. Your mind raced for something to say, the weight of everyone’s eyes on you making it harder to focus. Then your gaze landed on Josh and Dae, their fingers interlaced, their smiles soft and knowing, and you felt a calm settle over you.
“I’m, uh, not great at speeches,” you started, earning a few chuckles. “But I guess the thing about love is that it doesn’t really need perfect words, does it? Love is messy and complicated and…sometimes really painful. It’s not always easy to let people in, or to hold on when things get hard.”
Your voice softened, and you glanced briefly at Nic before continuing. “But when it’s real, when it’s worth it, it finds a way. Time, distance…even mistakes don’t make it disappear. It lingers. It’s patient, even when we aren’t.”
You swallowed hard, emotion creeping into your voice as you looked at Josh and Dae. “What you two have…it’s special. It’s not just about the big moments—it’s in the little ones, too. The way you look at each other when you think no one’s watching, the way you hold onto each other even when things aren’t perfect.”
Your lips curved into a small smile as your gaze softened. “You remind all of us what it means to love fully, without holding back. And I think that’s the most beautiful thing any of us could hope for.”
The applause that followed was warm and heartfelt, but you barely registered it. Your heart was pounding as you sat back down, your eyes meeting Nic’s for just a second too long. His expression was unreadable at first, his gaze fixed on you like he was trying to memorize every word you’d just said.
“That was…” Nic started, his voice lower than usual. He paused, shaking his head slightly as a small smile tugged at his lips. “You always have a way of saying exactly what people need to hear.”
His hand brushed against yours under the table, not quite a touch, but enough to make you feel the weight of it. It was in that moment you realized: you hadn’t just been talking about Josh and Dae. You’d been talking about him. About you.
And he knew it.
The first dance was everything you’d expect from Josh and Dae: sweet, understated, and full of a love that seemed to glow brighter than the candles flickering on the tables. The soft strains of their song floated through the terrace, weaving around the small, intimate gathering like a spell.
You and Nic stood off to the side, watching as they swayed together under the string lights. Dae’s head rested against Josh’s shoulder, her gown trailing elegantly behind her as they moved in perfect sync, lost in their little world.
“She looks so happy,” Nic murmured beside you, his voice low enough that it almost blended into the music.
You glanced at him, catching the softened lines of his expression, the way his gaze lingered on the couple with quiet admiration. “They both do,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended.
Watching them, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of reflection—a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and possibility. You thought about the version of yourself from five years ago, so tangled up in your feelings for Nic that it had felt impossible to move forward without him. And now here you were, standing beside him, watching someone else’s love story unfold.
Your mind wandered, drifting back through your memories of him—the late nights in college, the laughter, the arguments, the moments when everything felt so sure and others when it all seemed to slip away. And yet, even through the years apart, that same pull lingered. The question wasn’t whether you still loved him—you knew you did. It was whether the future could hold something more than the past.
Josh spun Dae out and brought her back into his arms, drawing a round of applause from the small crowd as their song came to an end. They beamed at each other, sharing a quick kiss before the music shifted to something more upbeat, signaling the start of the reception.
As the evening unfolded, the terrace came alive with chatter, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses. Nic had stepped away briefly to grab a drink, leaving you to mingle with the others, but it wasn’t long before Dae sidled up to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“So,” she started, dragging out the word as she nudged your arm. “Progress report, please.”
You blinked at her, feigning innocence. “Progress on what?”
Dae rolled her eyes dramatically, crossing her arms. “Don’t play dumb with me. You and Nic.”
Your face immediately warmed, and you glanced around as if someone might overhear. “Dae…”
“What?” she teased, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “It’s a legitimate question. I mean, you’ve barely taken your eyes off each other all day.”
“I—” you started to protest, but the words faltered when Nic reappeared at your side, holding out a glass of champagne for you.
“What did I miss?” he asked casually, though the slight furrow in his brow betrayed his curiosity.
“Oh, nothing much,” Dae said airily, clearly enjoying herself. “Just checking in on you two. Josh has been taking bets on when you’re getting back together, by the way.”
Nic nearly choked on his drink, his ears tinting red as he looked at Dae with wide eyes. “He what?”
“He’s your biggest shipper, you know,” she continued, completely undeterred by the embarrassment she was causing. “He’s been rooting for this since forever. Honestly, I think it’s half the reason he wanted the two of you here together.”
You covered your face with your hand, half laughing, half mortified. “Dae, stop.”
“Why? It’s true!” she said, throwing up her hands innocently. “He even said at one point that if he had to, he’d lock you two in a room until you sorted it out. But hey, it looks like I don’t have to intervene, so… progress!”
Nic shook his head, his blush spreading to his neck as he avoided meeting your gaze. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
Dae gave you both a smug little grin, clearly pleased with herself. “Just saying what everyone’s thinking. Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone. But don’t make me wait for updates—I’m invested.”
With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you and Nic standing there, equally flustered.
You finally dared to glance at him, catching the faint sheepish smile he was trying to hide. “Well, that was subtle,” you said dryly, though you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face.
Nic let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… subtle has never really been her thing.”
For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the music and laughter from the reception wrapping around you like a cocoon. And despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, you felt a quiet warmth settle between you—something unspoken, but understood all the same.
You and Nic were tucked off to the side, your chairs angled just enough to give you a view of the lake as the night settled in. His hand rested lightly on the back of your chair, his body angled toward yours, the conversation between you easy and natural for the first time in years.
The moment was interrupted by the smooth arrival of Mingyu, his usual grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, well,” he said, gesturing between the two of you, “I’m glad to see the two of you have worked things out. Not gonna lie, I was rooting for you.”
Nic stiffened slightly beside you, though his expression remained neutral. “Yeah, we’ve been…talking,” he replied carefully, his hand slipping from the back of your chair to his lap.
Mingyu’s grin softened, turning almost sheepish. “Listen, man,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to, you know, step on your toes this week. I didn’t know the history, and once I did, well…” He looked between the two of you. “I just want to say I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
Nic glanced at you, then back at Mingyu, clearly caught off guard. He shifted in his chair, a flush creeping up his neck. “You didn’t owe me anything,” he said after a moment, his voice measured. “But…I appreciate it. And, uh, sorry if I was…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head.
“Possessive?” Mingyu offered with a teasing glint in his eye.
Nic sighed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Yeah. That.”
Mingyu laughed, holding out his hand. “No hard feelings?”
Nic hesitated for only a moment before taking it, shaking firmly. “No hard feelings,” he echoed, though his embarrassment lingered in the faint pink of his cheeks.
As Mingyu walked away, you glanced at Nic, your eyebrow raised. “Possessive, huh?”
He groaned, leaning back in his chair with a wry smile. “Don’t start.”
You laughed softly, leaning closer. “It’s okay,” you teased. “I think it’s kind of sweet.”
Nic gave you a look, somewhere between exasperation and affection, before shaking his head. “You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
The reception had dwindled to a quiet hum, the terrace now lit only by the soft glow of fairy lights and the lingering warmth of a celebration well-lived. Guests were beginning to disperse, gathering their things, exchanging hugs and goodbyes. Dae and Josh stood at the entrance of the villa, looking every bit the newlyweds—radiant, a little tipsy, and blissfully in love.
“Alright, you two,” Dae said, pulling you and Nic in for a hug. “Promise me you’ll send updates. I need to know every detail of your progress.”
Josh chuckled, resting an arm around her waist. “She’s not kidding, by the way. You’re going to regret letting her have your number.”
Nic smirked, shaking Josh’s hand. “I’ll take my chances.”
Dae grinned but her tone softened as she squeezed your hand. “We’re so proud of you both. Really. It’s been amazing having you here this week. Seeing you together…” She trailed off, her eyes glassy with emotion.
Josh picked up where she left off. “It meant a lot. And not just for us. You two being here—it feels like something’s come full circle.”
“Alright, enough sentimentality,” Dae said, wiping at her cheek with a laugh. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”
They were heading to Santorini for their honeymoon—classy, romantic, and quintessentially them. The group gathered outside the villa to wave them off, cheering as their car disappeared down the drive.
As the crowd thinned and everyone started for their hotels or Airbnbs, Nic lingered by your side. He looked at you with a familiar warmth that made your chest tighten, a quiet confidence in the way he stood close, just shy of brushing your arm.
“So,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you say we find somewhere to grab dinner? Nothing fancy. We’ll just see where the night takes us.”
You hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
You ended up at a small, tucked-away trattoria on one of Bellagio’s cobblestone streets. The kind of place where the servers knew every regular by name and the scent of garlic and herbs lingered in the air. It wasn’t planned, but it was perfect.
Over plates of fresh pasta and glasses of wine, the conversation flowed easily, loosened by the champagne and the natural rhythm you and Nic had always had. It felt almost like old times—like those late-night dinners during college when it was just the two of you, talking about anything and everything.
Nic leaned back in his chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “So,” he began, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Are you going to tell me what happened with buying into your practice? You mentioned it earlier this week, but you never really talked about it.”
You swirled the wine in your glass thoughtfully. “I’m supposed to be, early next year. But… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like something I want to commit to just yet.”
He frowned slightly, intrigued. “Why not? You’d be great at it. Dae couldn’t stop raving about how great you are after you took out her wisdom teeth. And—” he paused, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I may have read some of your practice’s Google reviews.”
You stared at him, incredulous. “Oh my god. You’re a stalker!”
He laughed, holding his hands up defensively. “I was curious, alright? But seriously, you’re a great surgeon. Why not take the next step?”
You shrugged, resting your chin on your hand. “Maybe I’m too young to be running a business. Or maybe I just want a change of scenery. I’ve been thinking about going back to the public sector for a while now.”
Nic tilted his head, considering your words. “You want my thoughts?” You nod eagerly, eyes glassy.  “I think you should do what feels right for you. Whatever you decide, you’ll be amazing. You always are.”
The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten, and you looked away, focusing on the last of the wine in your glass. The warmth between you felt almost tangible, a fragile, growing thing that neither of you wanted to disturb.
The walk back to Nic’s Airbnb began with an invitation over the last sips of wine at the restaurant.
The two of you had been lingering long after your plates were cleared, the conversation meandering between work, college memories, and everything in between. Nic leaned back in his chair, his tie slightly loosened, his hand absently turning the stem of his glass.
“I don’t want this to end yet,” he admitted suddenly, his tone light but honest. “There’s too much I still want to catch up on. Come back to my Airbnb? We can keep talking.”
The offer was casual, no hidden agenda—just Nic being Nic. And yet, the way he looked at you, his brown eyes warm and steady, made something in your chest tighten.
You hesitated for only a moment, your inhibitions softened by the wine and the comfort of the evening. “Sure,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “Why not?”
His relief was subtle, but you caught it—a small exhale, a quick grin. “Good,” he said, setting his glass down and standing. “Let’s go.”
The walk back was steeped in an easy, wine-laced warmth. Bellagio’s quiet streets were lit only by the occasional glow of a streetlamp, the lake shimmering softly in the distance. Nic walked close beside you, hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed for the first time in what felt like years.
“I just—” he began, glancing at you before looking back ahead, “I didn’t want the night to end yet. It feels like we’ve only just started catching up.”
You felt your stomach flutter, a mix of the wine and the way he said it—earnest and almost boyish. “I get it,” you admitted, your voice soft. “It feels like there’s too much to fit into one dinner.”
He grinned, looking down at you briefly. “Exactly. So… thanks for coming with me. Even if it’s just to hear me ramble a little more.”
You laughed, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “You? Ramble? I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Oh, I do. Just ask Josh,” he teased, and the two of you slipped back into a conversation about work and life.
Somewhere along the way, he asked, carefully, “So… anyone back in New York? You know, in the last five years?”
The question caught you off guard, but the curiosity in his tone wasn’t intrusive—it was tentative, like he was almost afraid of the answer. You shook your head, smiling wryly. “Not seriously. Just a few failed Hinge dates here and there. I’m married to my loupes and luxators, apparently.”
Nic chuckled, shaking his head. “That tracks.”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And what about you? Mr. Los Angeles?”
“Pretty much the same,” he admitted with a small shrug. “I tried dating—key word: tried. But nothing stuck. Guess I’ve been married to my caseload.”
His honesty surprised you, though it shouldn’t have. Nic was always like that—direct, but in a way that felt safe. And now, as you walked beside him, it struck you how little had changed in some ways. The years apart hadn’t dulled the pull you felt toward him, the way his presence seemed to make everything else fade into the background.
When you reached his Airbnb, a modest but cozy villa tucked into a quiet corner of town, he held the door open for you, letting you slip off your heels with a sigh of relief. “God, I think these shoes are trying to kill me,” you muttered.
Nic smirked, setting his keys on the counter. “Well, you survived. That’s what matters.”
He reached for a bottle of red from the kitchen counter, pouring two glasses and handing one to you before settling onto the couch. “One last glass?”
“Twist my arm,” you teased, sinking into the cushions beside him.
The atmosphere was easy, relaxed, but the wine added a subtle haze to the air. Nic leaned back, his shirt slightly untucked, his tie loosened from the long day. The disheveled look suited him too well, and you found your gaze lingering more than you meant to.
The low lighting softened his features, but the sharpness of his jawline, the curve of his mouth, were impossible to ignore. And it wasn’t just how he looked—it was how he made you feel. That giddy, nervous energy you hadn’t felt in years, the kind you used to feel back in college when he would smile at you in just the right way.
Your thoughts drifted. You were reminded of late-night study sessions, sitting shoulder to shoulder, the proximity enough to set your pulse racing. The way he’d brush his hand against yours when passing you a pen. The stolen glances that made you wonder if he felt it, too.
And now, here you were again, sitting beside him like no time had passed, even though it had. The tension was there, just under the surface—a hum of possibility neither of you seemed ready to act on, but both of you felt.
Nic glanced over at you, catching your gaze. “What?” he asked softly, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.
“Nothing,” you said quickly, looking down at your glass. “Just… you look relaxed. It’s nice.”
He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You do, too.”
The air between you shifted, quieter now but charged. And as the conversation resumed—stories about work, the moments you’d missed—you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was where you were always meant to be. With him. Here.
The warmth of the red wine lingered, like a soft haze wrapping around the two of you as the evening stretched into something quieter, something slower. You and Nic had settled into a comfortable rhythm, trading stories and laughter, the conversation ebbing and flowing like it always had. But now, as the hour grew late, the air between you felt heavier—charged with something unspoken, yet deeply understood.
Nic set his empty glass on the coffee table, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. You looked down at the fleeting contact, your pulse skipping in response.
“I missed this,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, pulling your attention back to him.
“This?” you asked softly, tilting your head.
He smiled, his brown eyes catching the faint glow of the lamp. “You. Us. Talking like this.”
His words struck something deep, and before you could respond, he shifted slightly, leaning closer—not too much, just enough that the space between you felt almost non-existent.
“I need to ask you something,” he said quietly, his voice threading through the stillness.
Your heart stumbled, but you nodded, trying to keep your voice calm. “What is it?”
Nic’s gaze flickered down to your lips, lingering for just a beat before returning to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”
The question was so tender, so deliberate, that it almost unraveled you. He didn’t rush the moment, didn’t move until you answered. But the intensity in his gaze left no doubt about what he wanted—and what you did, too.
“Yes,” you breathed, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced.
Nic’s lips curved into the faintest smile, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for your permission. Slowly, he reached up, his fingers brushing along your jaw, his touch feather-light as if testing the waters.
And then he closed the distance.
The first press of his lips against yours was soft, tentative, a question in itself. He didn’t rush, didn’t push. His hand moved to cup your cheek, anchoring you to him as the kiss deepened ever so slightly, a slow, languid exploration that felt like coming home.
You melted into him, your hand finding its way to his chest, where you could feel the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. It matched your own, as if the two of you were syncing after years of being out of tune.
The kiss grew heavier—not rushed, but more certain, as though every lingering doubt or hesitation was being stripped away with every gentle pull of his lips. His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, grounding you in the moment, and you responded in kind, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a reclamation of everything you’d lost, a connection you thought you’d never have again. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the years apart, not the mistakes or misunderstandings—just him, and you, and the way he made you feel like you belonged.
When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, you opened your eyes to find him watching you, his gaze soft but searching.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, a slow, steady smile spreading across your lips. “Yeah. More than okay.”
Nic’s own smile mirrored yours, his hand still cradling your face like he was afraid to let go. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t think I can stop now.”
You laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension just enough to make the moment feel light again, but the undercurrent of emotion remained. This was Nic—your Nic—and for the first time in years, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.
Nic kissed you like he was trying to etch the moment into memory, his lips slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that made the world tilt just slightly on its axis. Your arms looped around his shoulders as his hands anchored themselves at your waist, fingers curling like he was afraid to let you go.
Before you even realized it, you’d shifted closer, settling into his lap like you belonged there—because, God, didn’t it feel like you did? His hands slid up your back, pulling you firmly against him as your heart pounded in time with his.
When you finally pulled away, your breaths mingling in the stillness, Nic’s hands stayed exactly where they were, holding you in place as though releasing you would undo everything. His head dropped to your shoulder, and for a moment, he just held you, his chest heaving with something that felt almost like relief.
Then he let out a soft laugh, lifting his head to meet your eyes. His grin was boyish, a little crooked, and entirely unguarded. “You know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “for the first time in a long time, it feels like the world’s finally spinning the right way.”
You blinked, your chest tightening with an ache so sweet it almost hurt. “Yeah?” you managed, the word coming out a little breathless.
He nodded, his expression softening as his hands squeezed your sides. “Yeah. And you… you’re right at the center of it.”
Your laugh came out shaky, barely masking the tears threatening to spill. But they weren’t tears of sadness—not this time. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, though your voice betrayed how much his words had wrecked you in the best way.
Nic grinned wider, leaning in until his forehead touched yours. “You like it,” he murmured, his tone playful but sure.
“I do,” you admitted, your smile widening even as your heart soared. “God help me, I really do.”
For a while, you just sat there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of everything unspoken melting into the comfort of his arms around you. The quiet between you wasn’t empty—it was full of possibility, of shared breaths and unspoken promises.
Eventually, Nic tilted his head, brushing his lips against your temple. “This… this isn’t just a moment, right?” he asked softly, his voice uncertain for the first time that night.
You cupped his cheek, your thumb grazing his skin as you smiled. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
His eyes searched yours, and whatever he saw there seemed to settle something deep inside him. He let out a long breath, pulling you even closer, his arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let go.
And as you sat there, wrapped in each other on that worn, comfortable couch in a quiet little Airbnb, it hit you—you didn’t need grand gestures or perfect timing. You just needed this. Him.
Because in Nic’s arms, the past didn’t matter, and the future didn’t feel so daunting. There was just now—just you and him, finally back where you belonged.
32 notes ¡ View notes
boyswanna-be-her ¡ 3 days ago
Note
Would you be willing to speak a little on your own experience joining dsa and working with them? I have a pretty active local chapter and im seriously considering joining
Certainly!
I'll preface this adding the context that I have no interest in dying on the DSA hill. I think they're a cool org and I'm glad I got involved, but having run a chapter for a year and attended the bi-annual conference last year, I don't at all think it's perfect!
The big selling point to me with the Democratic Socialists of America is that it's a big national organization working on a LOT of things at once--so if your pet project or personal cause fails, like mine did with Florida's Amendment 4, you still have an organization ready to help you with the next thing you want to do. So, unlike joining an organization that focuses solely on abortion rights or queer rights or racial justice, joining DSA gives you access to a community and a resource pool that is continuously working for the betterment of society.
The other big selling point is that it gives you access to a bunch of different things so you can choose where you put your energy. If you want to do mutual aid, your chapter probably has a way to do that. If you want to learn more about running for local office, your chapter leadership can hook you up with mentors and help with that. If you want to know when the next big protest is where you can make a sign and shout a chant, they can probably tell you about it. You can do small things or big things or you can just join for the fellowship.
Personally, I learned about DSA when I was volunteering as an abortion clinic escort. I knew a very average amount about socialism, and was attracted to the org solely because of the work they were actually doing in my community. I knew they had a reputation for being largely white, cis, hetero dudes, and my local chapter wasn't different than that when I joined. But even as an afab trans person, I felt immediately included, and was voted into leadership basically as soon as I expressed an interest in helping. And since then, I've seen LOTS more people join who are NOT cishet white bernie bros. So if the makeup of your local chapter turns you off, please recognize that your own presence might offer a gateway for more diverse people to join.
I'm down to answer any other specific questions! I hope that helps! Every DSA chapter is different, but I met tons and tons of leaders at the national conference and nobody sucked, so I feel good about endorsing it as an org that's doing good work.
39 notes ¡ View notes
marchofmistria ¡ 21 hours ago
Note
Hello! I love your headcanons and writing a lot! Thanks for the food
If possible, I'll like to request some headcanons for Balor and a reader that has a pretty obvious crush on him.
Thanks in advance! <3
Hey there, thank you for sending! :)
Balor is not unaccustomed to flirting. He's a handsome man, well-traveled, and a purveyor of expensive goods. He's met many people, so to speak.
But something about your particular attention to him really makes him flustered. And that fact alone scares him.
He does a lot of self-analysis to try and understand what about you makes you special to him, and why your flirting makes his heart race. He's met many attractive people in his life, sure, but you're so much more than just another pretty face to him.
From the first moment he met you on your entrance into Mistria, and he held your hand as you jumped over the broken bridge into the small village, he couldn't get you out of his mind.
From his first impression, you were definitely beautiful. As he got to know you more, he saw you as particularly clever and helpful with his business. You understood him and his line of work.
He's not sure, maybe it has to do with the fact that he's grown surprisingly attached to this village. But he suspects you play no small role in that feeling.
He can tell you like him too. Each day, you make a point to stop by his cart and chat with him. At first, it's mostly about business. But as time passes, you make an effort to learn more about the mysterious merchant and remember each detail of each story he tells you.
He really starts to feel your affections towards him each time you take effort to bring him a beautiful gem or rare archeological find. At first he thanks you, saying it'll be a good sell in the Capital.
But then you emphasize that it's for him, not to be sold. You know that, aside from his work, he truly appreciates the beauty and rarity of such things. He's touched by the thought you put into it.
Even more so when you remember his brief mention of his favorite food, curry, and make an effort to bring it to him as often as possible.
He knew that he loved you on the day you invited him over to the farm for dinner. You told him that you and Reina had worked together on a new curry recipe, and hoped that he liked it.
While you may have tried to brush off any hints suggesting that this was made for him, claiming that you and Reina were simply practicing cooking, he could tell that you didn't offer this meal to him thoughtlessly.
It's the most delicious and comforting thing he'd remembered having since his childhood. Comforting food like this was hard to come by when you lived your life on the road.
Charming and charismatic as he is, he finds it truly difficult to express in words what this gesture meant to him. Really, what all of these thoughtful and kind gestures mean to him.
He begins to associate you with the feeling of home. He hasn't known that feeling in a while.
He goes to great lengths to try and repay you for your kindness. He knows that he's already gained your affection and doesn't need to try to win you over, but he wants to give you even a small piece of the feeling you've given him.
He first brings you rare and expensive gifts he comes into possession of over the course of his travels outside of Mistria. Some of these things, you know well, he could have easily sold for a pretty penny in the Capital. But he chooses to give them to you.
As he gets to know you more, he moves away from gifts he knows would be liked by anyone to gifts specific to your interests and tastes.
He knows how carefully you listen to all his stories, and makes great effort to do the same for you. He even goes so far as to keep notes of the things you've mentioned you liked. He'll bring them for you any chance he gets.
His favorite thing in the world is spending late nights with you at the Inn, swapping stories and laughs well into the night. He feels like he can talk to you forever, and it feels wonderful to have a caring someone to share his thoughts and feelings with.
Another thing he needs to get used to is the trouble he has flirting with you at first. Although you unabashedly like Balor and don't try to hide it, Balor has to fight through some embarrassment to show his feelings back. Something he's not used to.
This is a shock to a man whose whole life was spent charming everyone he meets. He's never been a stranger to grand displays of affection, but with you he takes a different approach. With you, he wants to cultivate intimacy.
He gets shy when you clearly indicate how much you like him, but always wants you to know that the feeling is mutual and he wants your relationship to progress further.
Because of this, it doesn't take long at all for you two to become an official couple. Even long into your relationship, when Balor has vowed to make Mistria (and you specifically) his permanent home, he never stops making sure you feel loved by him. He tells you and shows you every single day.
37 notes ¡ View notes
gothamite-rambler ¡ 2 days ago
Text
Damian meets Swamp Thing
Context: This is based on one of the canon's but I do like this one the most. Absorbing the memories of the dead person you think you are has always been a fascinating trope. Plus Damian wanting to help out villains he finds interesting is just heroic and sweet thing for him to do.
Alec (Swamp Thing): Hey, little dude. Awesome to meet a new Robin! I really love the representation. We need more diversity in the Bat League.
Batman: I have heroes of other races—wait, I’m going to stop there before I say something inappropriate.
Damian, dressed in his Robin suit, chuckled at his father's embarrassment.
Alec: It’s cool, Batman. I get you. You’re a cool hero, and you seem to take care of these kids. Ivy really likes one of them a lot.
Batman: I’m painfully aware of that.
Alec: I was thrown off by it too. Back to the little dude—Robin, I love this suit. Rock on, little dude!
Damian smiled, his head down. Batman cleared his throat to remind the young Robin to focus on why they were there. Robin nodded, preparing to speak.
Damian: Mr. Swamp Thing—
Alec (in a chill tone): You can call me Alec. Swamp Thing is what my enemies call me.
Damian (slightly surprised): Oh, so we're not enemies?
Alec: Nah, you’re friends with Ivy's girlfriend, and she’s pretty chill. Ivy seriously needed that kind of positive vibe.
Damian nodded with a prideful smile, then glanced at his father, subtly rubbing in that another villain liked him. Batman rolled his eyes and waved a hand for his son to hurry up.
Damian (to Alec): I agree, sir. This conversation is going well, and I hope not to offend you, but I was curious about one thing: Are you a former human turned into a swamp creature, or a sentient plant that has absorbed all of Alec's memories?
Damian placed his hands behind his back, waiting for an answer, while Batman heaved a heavy sigh, too embarrassed to speak.
Batman (to himself): I would've gotten to the point already.
Alec (surprised): Oh… wow. I haven’t been asked that in a long, long time.
Damian: Is it okay if I ask? Batman said it was wildly inappropriate and you'd "go berserk" if I asked that, and then I wouldn’t be able to ask any further questions. Right, Batman?!
Damian looked up at his father, who remained silent, covering his eyes in frustration and holding his head down.
Damian: I think that means yes. My apologies, Alec, I’m a curious child. I love to learn about criminals or former criminals such as yourself. I'm not going to judge you or anything.
Alec: You're okay, little Robin. I accepted what I am a long time ago. I couldn’t deal with humans, though; that’s why I live here, surrounded by the swampy foliage—meditating and stuff like that. My 'birth' is odd, to say the least. I’m a hundred percent plant, but I absorbed most of the original Alec's memories. The poor guy died in the explosion that created me, and his body sank deep into a swampy marsh. After going through an existential crisis, I searched for him and buried his body in a better spot.
Damian: Oh... that's quite the bittersweet origin story. It’s reassuring to see you’ve had good personal growth since then.
Batman (chiming in, exasperated tone): Robin, he killed so many people and almost created plant zombies.
Damian: And you invite Red Hood over for Thanksgiving; you have no room to talk.
Alec laughed, then sighed with a smile.
Alec: Yeah, don’t worry; I’m not doing anything evil anymore. I did some goon work for a few years and worked with Ivy, but I’m retired now. I enjoy spending my days chillaxing here, keeping my zen in check. Gotta make sure to avoid toxic outlets, you know?
Damian: I do. I'm not giving up my iPhone, but I get it. I'm glad you've reached that level of enlightenment; you can reject my offer. Thing is, I helped out Mr. Freeze and was wondering if you needed any assistance?
Alec smiled and shook his head.
Alec: While I appreciate you wanting to help, I'm good.
Damian: Hm, are you sure? I can do a lot, especially with my dad's money. Batman knows my dad; he can help, right, Batman?!
Batman (deadpan): Trust me, when I talk to your father, you’re going to be so grounded.
Damian (chuckling): Worth it.
Alec (crossing his arms): How about this? If I do need something from you guys, you'll be the first I contact.
Damian: That works. Here’s a phone to make it easier to reach me. It’s solar-powered, so there’s no need to charge it like a regular cell phone. It’s waterproof and gets reception in this bayou. My number is on there, along with Ivy's, Harley's, and Batman's.
Batman (angry): I told you not to involve me in this!
Damian (gritting his teeth): You know my rich father, so you're helping!
Batman: Okay, fine. I’m going to the car, and we’re having a talk when we drive home.
Batman walked off as Damian handed the phone to Alec. Alec took it with a genuine smile, surprised.
Alec: I have to say, I’m not too into these cell phones. They’re bad for the environment and the mind. But this seems like a pretty simple touchscreen. Thanks, kid.
Damian gave a thumbs up.
Damian: It’s what heroes do. All right, Batman is ready to go. See you around, Alec.
Damian put up the hood on his suit and walked off as Alec opened a music app on the phone.
Alec (smiling): Huh, the kid's not that bad.
24 notes ¡ View notes
distort-opia ¡ 3 days ago
Note
Thoughts on The War Within from the Joker 80th anniversary special?
Ah, Tomasi's little meta take on the neverending battle between Batman and Joker!
Tumblr media
It's a lot like Bermejo's "Two Fell Into The Hornet's Nest"-- one big metaphor and tribute to the dynamic between Batman and Joker, with a focus on Joker's perspective. The short story is, after all, part of a Joker anthology. It's told in the rhythm and cadence of poetry, which is quite enjoyable, but it's nothing that hasn't been said before.
To be honest, I think the last two pages are what's interesting: the ending. The rest is a journey through all the forms Joker has taken in different media and stories, in his fight with Batman:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
We get Leto's Joker, Arkham games Joker, New 52's Joker... and so on. The idea is that the faces change, but the war stays the same.
But the last two pages go like this:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
And now is where you think "Oh, Batman is wearing a device that protects him from Joker gas all along". The text specifically and intentionally says "Where oh where does the green gas flow?" The bar we see in the device as red is not alerting anything before, it's only red in the last pages. And so, when The Killing Joke!Joker shoots Batman and then removes the air purifying device, the person who gets up is a Joker-infected Batman. Joker beats Batman by making Batman become him.
And um... somehow I got even longer than the post already is, so I'm putting more elaboration on the ending under the cut.
"The more I walk in your skin, the more I learn how to beat you." There's multiple layers to this... Batman, by virtue of who he is in the narrative, has to stay the same-- unmoving, moral, the hero of the story who kills no one. But Joker is an embodiment of chaos; he doesn't stay the same, he evolves. We see him take on different forms and committing various horrifying deeds which, at the end of the day, make him a stronger and versatile villain. This is a sentiment we've seen before, even recently with Zdarsky's take on them: Joker could kill Batman anytime he wanted. As a villain, he's got a freedom that Batman, being the rule-governed protagonist of the story, does not. What stops him from ending the battle is the love of his enemy.
But how does Joker beat Batman? It's by Batman becoming him, and this is framed as a sort of inevitability. It's what makes Joker smile more than anything, with the last panel being Batman-as-Joker cutting a smile into his own face with a batarang. They're the same person at different points in time, and the "war within" is pretty much saying "there's two wolves inside me". There's just one me in this equation, and the war is between Batman and Joker: two sides of the same entity. Heh... I included that first panel for a reason. If you go back, you'll see Bruce's eyes are clearly green. One could argue Batman was Joker from the start.
The Medusa reference is the last layer and something I'm not sure about, honestly. A fair maiden who becomes a monster and whose gaze turns anyone to stone... that might be what it tries to say. Since this is Joker's perspective, it might suggest the corruption of innocence. Medusa doesn't turn into a villain because she wants to, it's a betrayal that leads to it; she's a victim who becomes a villain. But to be fair, sometimes artists just like to give Joker snake motifs. All thorought the story, we see snakes entangled with depictions of Joker, on the wall, in the textures. I swear, the sheer number of times Joker has been associated with a snake, or has even had snake hair before:
Tumblr media
Wonder Woman #164
Tumblr media
Knight Terrors -- Catwoman #2
Association with the devil, with poison and evil, etc. etc. It could just be that-- artists going "oh I know what's Green and Evil!" Though as a fan of snakes, I gotta say, I actually like it. Snake Joker for the win!
I ended up going on a bit of a tangent, but I hope you enjoyed these meandering thoughts.
39 notes ¡ View notes
parasolladyansy ¡ 18 hours ago
Note
hi!! i'm the same anon from the languages ask. (thank you for answering btw!! it was very interesting!) i've been having thoughts about pokemon languages for a WHILE, and i'd like to know what do you think was the expansion of "japanese" (let's say hisuian) from hisui to the other regions. if the pearl/diamond clan speaks "japanese", then the galaxy corps learned it from them, yeah? or were they settlers from before that were ALREADY speaking "japanese" (therefore there is no conflict with kanto, johto and hoenn speaking "japanese" too, even if it might have evolved slightly differently)? i have this headcanon that celestica people (who were there even before than the clans) spoke our equivalent "russian" instead, what do you think of that?
also THE LAST CHAPTERS OF THE D&P REWRITE HAVE BEEN HEARTBREAKING AND AMAZING THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SMALL REUNION I LOVED IT ;;;
also if i am annoying feel free to tell me to stop i am Sorry ;; i just like languages a lot.
Hm! I would imagine they were all speaking Japanese, if we were to believe that they all came from “Japanese” regions originally (which I find very likely - there are a couple who have descendants further out in the world like Unova or Kalos, but for the times, I think it makes more sense for them to be from Kanto, Johto, or Hoenn).
I would actually guess that the Celestica people would have spoken “Ainu”, as I think the Celestica people are supposed to represent the indigenous people living in Hokkaido, the Ainu (the story of Legends Arceus being based on the colonization of Hokkaido in the mid-1800’s).
Another thought is that they could be speaking the Pokemon equivalent of an ancient Hellenistic language like Latin, as all the ruins & the Temple of Sinnoh are more styled like ancient Grecian / Roman architecture:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
If so, my memories of Art History make me wonder if it’s a reference to the Silk Road at all? Though honestly, I think it’s to communicate that the Pokemon world is a lot more multicultural & diverse than ours is / was (like people who live in “Japanese” regions don’t seem to necessarily be genetically Japanese you know? Ikrit’s an example of that, being white rather than asian) &/or it just “looks ancient” lol.
As for Russian - the Ainu people lived (live?) in Russia as well as northern Japan, so maybe? I could see it being a substitute for Ainu, seeing as it’s an almost dead language, & could make sense in universe? Depends on the direction one wants to go in I guess! If it were me, while I COULD try to excavate my old memories of high-school Latin lol, I’d want to try including Ainu in some way, even if it’s a couple words or a phrase. ;u;
Thank you very much! I hope you keep enjoying the story (lol it’s all good - I love world building, & languages are a part of it!)
PS: Oh! I forgot - while all the “Japanese” regions probably speak “Japanese”, different parts of Japan have their own dialects, much like how different parts of the US have their own words, phrases, & accents.
This showed up in Legends Arceus when Kamado had a moment of losing his cool - in the US English, he seemed to have an almost Southern / country accent, but in Japanese, he talks in a Kansai accent (aka Johto accent). It’s also worth noting that the fire caused by Ho-Oh in Ecruteak City happened about 150 years ago, & as of PLA (set about 150 years ago), Jubilife Village is only 2 years old…
21 notes ¡ View notes
bleeding-seraphic ¡ 2 days ago
Note
There is a part of me that is rather sad about the omission of Zerum from this particular AU. I had been craving very much someone's take on both her character, as well as exploring both the impact such a situation as Sebastian's would've had on her, as well as earnestly exploring what their dynamic really is like and actually learning about her presence and her manner within the world of Pressure.
Your reasons for excluding her are understandable to be sure, but man, there is still that desire with me on that matter. That, and consciously writing both her and Sebastian with your projection in mind..might yield something interesting in of itself.
I do hear how some aroace people get married or even marry each other for reasons OTHER than romantic feelings, most especially to express/reinforce the bond they have and their commitment to one another in their own manner, different from this overarching norm that exclusively caters to romance itself. This, I feel, has a lot of potential if done right, but that's all just yapping about hypotheticals you can tune out if you'd like.
This was an interesting read and I see where you're coming from!! I'm just not sure how I would portray her in the first place- she's not a character in Pressure itself but she IS a real character that belongs to someone, and I wasn't sure what to do with that. It was a complicated situation I'm not very confident in my ability to portray existing characters with nuance if I don't get them, and I definitely don't get Zerum('s character) because she's not IN the game, nor do I have a good feel on their relationship besides them being happily married. So I decided to focus on familial relationships because family angst is my jam.
Also I actually don't really ship them since I never actually got to see any canon interaction so it was hard for me to get invested enough to want to include their relationship in my au
I love Zerum very much and she seems very sweet and I don't like that people get on her case, but overall it's just not something I want to put my in Asylum Harbour canon. I hope you get to find the nuanced content of her that you're looking for! :)
22 notes ¡ View notes
msschemmenti ¡ 3 days ago
Text
girl next door 🏠-7
a/n: at this point— i’m just doing shit 😭
Tumblr media
Summer turned to fall rather quickly and things had settled pretty nicely for the ladies. The women had only been sleeping together for about a month but they’d all fallen into this new dynamic pretty easily. Everyone was learning new things about themselves and each other and it was making for a very interesting friendship.
Like now, Y/n and JJ were sprawled around her living room working quietly. JJ, reading through case consults, and Y/n working through a few papers. Emily had been tagged into a last-minute interrogation at some prison and jj didn’t particularly fancy spending her evening alone, so she’d made her way over to Y/n’s door as soon as she put the car in park. Having spent her day cleaning and sending out project feedback, Y/n welcomed the blonde in with a smile and instructions to get comfortable while she grabbed them snacks until dinner time.
They worked in relative silence for a bit until JJ seemed finally cracked. Her eyes had strayed from the crime scene photos far too many times for her to provide an actual consult. So when she caught sight of Y/n returning to the living room in one of her signature lounge sets, JJ couldn’t stop herself from pulling the young professor into her lap. Y/n fell easily with a laugh, straddling JJ with raised eyebrows.
“I thought we were working?” Y/n asked teasingly.
“I can’t focus when you’re walking around looking this good.” JJ’s mouth instantly started working the column of Y/n’s neck and by now she was starting to pick up on just how to work the younger woman’s body to get the reaction she wanted. JJ was efficient and had Y/n humming softly and stretching her neck to give her more room to work.
“You know, I’m starting to realize how insatiable your libido is.” Y/n chuckled as she felt JJ’s hands crawl up her shirt to rest in one of her favorite places.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” JJ snickered. “And you’re not exactly helping it. You’ve been walking around in practically nothing for the last hour and a half. I think I deserve some praise for holding out as long as I did.” JJ chided with a nip to the younger woman’s neck.
Before Y/n could even reply, her phone started ringing on the coffee table. She pulled away from JJ, much to the older woman’s dismay, and reached for her phone to see who was calling. JJ, hardly one to be deterred turned her attention to the parts of the younger woman’s body that were still in her reach. Y/n eyed her phone curiously but answered.
“Tina?” Y/n asked as she held the phone to her ear.
“Hi, is now a bad time?” The woman spoke nervously. Y/n’s eyes met JJ’s mischievous eyes and she pulled her hands from under her shirt to rest on her hips. With a pout, the older woman lowered her hands fractionally to cup her behind instead.
Y/n rolled her eyes, but didn’t move them. “No, now's fine. What’s up?”
“Well, I’m in DC— for a show and I wanted to or was hoping to see you. Only if you want, of course. Last time we talked, you said to reach out if I was ever in town. And I’m here. So I’m reaching out.” Tina rambled nervously.
“Well of course I wanna see you. No need to work yourself up honey,” Y/n spoke softly into the phone. The term of endearment piques JJ’s interest. She knew her neighbor rained pet names when she addressed people, she claimed it was part of her Southern charm. But in the months they’d known each other she’d never heard the name Tina before.
“I’m sorry, I just- you know how I get.” Tina sighed over the phone with a self-deprecating chuckle.
“I do. How long are you here for? I’m teaching during most days but we could definitely do dinner.” Y/n asked flipping her hair out of her face a bit, completely missing the way JJ studied her.
“I’m here until Monday, then we’re heading to Chicago. The show will be Friday through Sunday.”
“Okay, it’s Wednesday now— can you squeeze me in tomorrow night? I’ll stay in town after my classes and then we can meet. And if you’re nice, I’ll come see your show.” Y/n teased softly down the line, easily falling into the banter of their past.
JJ was so close enough to the younger woman, that she could practically hear the woman on the other line laugh and agree. She watched as Y/n smiled giddily and confirmed plans for the following day and a familiar yet confusing fire began to burn in her stomach. Familiar, yes. She’d been known to have a bit of a jealous streak. Confusing, also yes. Because she’d only ever really felt that way with Emily. Never for any other partner. And certainly not for any of the women they’d taken to their bed, casually. As the thought passed her mind, she nodded in realization. Oh, this is definitely new.
When Emily and JJ finally stopped fighting their desires and fell into the whole, neighbors-with-benefits sort of arrangement there was bound to be some confusion considering they had never really brought another woman into their relationship consistently. It had always been a one-night-stand-see-you-never sort of deal. Often occurring after a particularly rough case over drinks in a dimly lit bar on the other side of town. They usually never even brought the women to their house. For safety reasons primarily but also because they knew what kind of message that sent to women and they weren’t interested in that sort of thing. Then Y/n moved in and she was just so attractive and so close. They’d convinced themselves that after one time they’d be able to dispel any of those feelings of attraction. That’s how it had worked any other time they took someone to bed. But they were sorely mistaken. Not only had they progressed to inviting Y/n into their personal bed, it was as if their experiences with her were bleeding into their personal intimacy. No matter how many times they washed their sheets they stilled smelled of her release. Any time they rolled into bed to sleep or do a little more than sleep, their minds wandered to their unbelievably attractive neighbor down the street. The neighbor they had writhing between them for hours, gripping their silken sheets, pleading for sweet release. It worked wonders for their already active sex life but it always left them feigning for another night with her. So they stopped counting. And everyone seemed happier that way. The street’s orgasm count was up and who would complain about that?
At this point they’d slept together maybe, 7 times over the last month. All of which had been initiated by Emily or JJ. It almost always happened like this. After defiling Y/n’s couch for the second time they exchanged numbers— everyone anticipating the routine forming. They’d decide before they left work who’d actually reach out. If it was early enough, the younger woman would offer whatever she had for dinner to them and after they’d all eaten together the older women would lead the younger woman to their bedroom. And once the deed was done, Y/n was heading back to her house leaving both women leftovers of their meal. Very casual, very neighborly, very not jealousy-inducing (so far). So when JJ felt that familiar burning in her gut, she knew something else was going on.
“Listen, let me know what your schedules looking like tomorrow and i’ll find us somewhere for dinner. Are you still off Chinese? Figured. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/n spoke down the phone before ending the call and turning her attention back to the blonde underneath her. “Sorry bout that.”
JJ nodded and eyed the younger woman curiously, hands still settle on her ass, “Friend in town?”
Y/n nodded, tossing her phone to the other end of the couch, “Yeah, I think I may have mentioned my closest friend in location was in New York when we first met. Well, her shows traveling and we’re gonna get together.”
JJ aimed for casually curious, nothing more than a friend asking about another friend, “That’s nice, were you close before you moved here?”
“Oh yeah, we lived together for a year before she moved up to New York last spring for a role,” Y/n answered easily.
“Roommates? Oh, that’s nice that you kept in touch.” JJ said feeling the relief inching into her body at the simple answer.
“Yeah, roommates. We really leaned into that U-haul lesbian stereotype. Although, i think six months is better than some of couples i’ve known.” Y/n counted absentmindedly.
“Oh! She’s your ex? Like the year and a half one?” JJ asked, feeling the jealousy flair intensely.
“Uh huh, gosh I forget how loose lipped I get when I drink.” Y/n smiled, kissing JJ’s lips chastely and rising from her lap. “I’m going to start dinner, are y’all eating with me tonight?”
JJ answered affirmatively and watched as the younger woman started working around her kitchen to prepare for dinner. She’d need to swallow whatever she was feeling—cause it’s casual.
-
“God, DC looks good on you.” Tina smiled fondly from across the dinner table. Y/n had picked a restaurant within walking distance to where Tina was staying and she was definitely taking advantage of that fact as she nursed her fourth drink.
“Oh stop that! I look exactly the same as I did when I dropped you at the airport last May. If we’re talking who looks what— the stage is agreeing with my baby. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this light and free.”
“That might be the liquor talking.” Tina grinned.
“Uh huh, you always did have a low tolerance. My lil baby.” Y/n teased, reaching across the table to pinch at the older woman’s cheek affectionately. “Tell me, who’re you bedding now? Some young ingenue in the chorus line?”
“Ha! No no. I’m not currently involved with anyone. Haven’t had much time with the show traveling— and you know the new york dating scene is not my speed.”
“Awe come on, the girls not seeing how lovable your little shy, nervous thing is? We both know how well that worked on me.”
“Yeah— I fear they’re not like you.” Tina shrugged, downing the rest of her drink. She waved the waitress down for another and studied her ex closely. “Now you my dear, are definitely getting laid. Tell me about that.”
Y/n blushed under her gaze and rolled her eyes, “Oh you know, nothing serious. My married neighbors have just been screwin’ my brains out for the last month.”
“Oh ho ho— now that’s one way to do it. Glad one of us is getting laid.” Tina cheers, clinking their glasses together. “What does ‘nothing serious’ mean though?”
“It’s casual. They’ve got pretty high pressure jobs and you know how healing an orgasm can be. My dating experience here has been pretty rough and you know what they say— kill two birds with one stone and such.”
“well good for you, babe. Glad to see you’re making DC home.”
It wasn’t long after that the women stumbled out of the restaurant giggling sweetly. “Oh, you’re drunker than Cooter Brown. Come on I’ll walk back to your hotel, make sure you can actually go on this weekend.”
“Oh no, then who will walk you back? I don’t want you out here alone, how can I protect you?” Tina slurred, leaning into Y/n’s arm.
“Sweetness, you couldn’t protect a fly right now. I’ll be fine.”
“No— just stay the night. I’ve got two beds and you’ve had almost as much as me.”
“Alright, alright. Sleepover it is. Start movin’ though— my feet are killing me.”
-
“What is your deal? You’ve been glued to that window or your phone all evening.” Emily asked curiously looking over JJ’s shoulder for a sign of what she was watching.
“Nothing…” JJ shrugged tearing her gaze from her neighbor’s empty driveway.
“Yeah right, nothing my ass. Try that again.” Emily scoffed, lifting JJ’s feet onto her lap.
“It really is nothing, i was just wondering if Y/n was back for the night.”
“She’s not home yet? That’s weird, most nights she’s in bed by 9 at the latest. Didn’t she say she was having dinner with her friend tonight?” Emily mused curiously watching JJ’s features closely. JJ hummed noncommittally turning distractedly as a pair of headlights bathed the dark street. Emily eyebrows lowered together in confusion, “Jen, come on. What do you know— should we be concerned about this friend of hers?”
At the genuine concern in Emily’s voice JJ sighed and slumped against the couch sheepishly. “No, no. I’m being crazy and I have no clue why. Her ex is in town and I hadn’t anticipated her being gone all night.”
“Oh.” Emily replied (teetering between nonchalance and intrigued). “Her ex as in the one she dated for a year and a half? That’s nice of her to visit.”
“Yeah, super nice.”
“You know if i didn’t know any better— I’d say this attitude of yours is because you’re jealous…” Emily prodded, poking at the sole of JJ foot.
“What? No. I was just thinking— we never really talked about the logistics of our arrangement. And safety wise I think it might be a good idea to figure out.”
Emily peeked through the curtain herself, “Right, right. You think she’s sleeping with her?” Emily asked suddenly struggling to maintain her nonchalance.
“Well they sounded pretty chummy when she called. And she’s not home yet. And it’s not like we’re exclusive or anything. She’s a free agent.”
“That she is. Well I’m sure she’s having a good time.” Emily threw over her shoulder flippantly, eyes still trained on the street. “But you’re right, maybe we should think safety logistics. And such.”
51 notes ¡ View notes
bawmbo ¡ 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
hi, thank you. youve opened a can of worms that cannot be closed
killer is such an interesting character to me. i realized that im not actually too sure where to start but ill start with his timeline;
the idea of a character whose home was slowly destroyed for reasons outside of their control and beyond what they couldve ever thought was real is an incredibly interesting concept to me. i also love psychological horror and reality breaking type of things in relation to it.
to be transformed into something outside of the bounds of definition, and live with the consequences of that, of your loss of autonomy is terrifying. to be named under that total loss is horrifying. to know that everybody will only know your name and never what you went through to get there, that no one would even really care. not that you could get yourself to. theres so much potential with the idea of someone who wants to drain your world of everything for entertainment, and they can forcefully recode it, and they do not care about you because you are just a game character to them. and you are the only one aware of this. and when youre taken out of the timeline by a strange man who can also forcefully shift your control of your situation, everyone will only know you as just as bad as him. as a murderer with no reason. and every time you look at this man (nightmare) all you can feel is the same hatred you feel for yourself. you cant help but feel like youre the same. but this isnt about nightmare as much as i really do love him and writing his character (also super passionate about him)
i have a lot of problems in general with his fandom portrayal and the fact that we either see him as portrayed as either incredibly childish, dumb, very sexualized, etc. and its okay to want to write him how you want to write him, have fun, just not our cup of tea
to us, hes incredibly agile, quiet. hes eerie and incredibly smart and much more aware of whats going on than he lets on. he has lost all respect for anyone who claims theyre more powerful than him, and the way he taunts is by bringing them back to his level (or just doing things he knows pisses them off but not enough to get him killed for it. massive staring problem and wont elaborate on it). and while he can be flirty, where i understand the sexualization comes from.
i think i just crave more in depth characterization from him. how terrifying he is during battles, how he knows the knives he fights with better than the air he breathes and the placement of his feet just as much. how he could be using his magic but its difficult to fight him even without it. the absence of what he could be doing and the presence of how difficult what he is doing showing through. his disconnection from the world around him and how hard it is to realize that everything around you is just codes. that everything is malleable in the wrong hands and everyone lives their lives blissfully unaware of how quickly things can change. and how he could be deeply angry by this but never actually feel it well in his chest like he sees with others. he isnt indifferent, and at some point, somewhere he might express that care. but he cant. and this is it. and he doesnt know how to move on from that.
maybe when he gets close to people his relationships end up showing slow signs of trust. when he does trust people is he surprised if they leave? how scared is he to depend on anyone when no one was ever there to? maybe one day he finally learns to sleep with his chest or back exposed and around people. and his version of hanging out is going "hey i know a spot" and its a 50 minute walk through a closed off forest but its beautiful. and youll probably get some diseases, just gotta hope you dont. the next place is probably a feral cat colony hiding in the sewers hes been feeding and slowly gaining the trust of. hes weird.
in general i really do love complex characters and think about them a lot. and i love seeing how complex characters can be written. i love exploring the possibilities with him and i find that when we either write him or collab stories where we write characters interacting with him, we have a lot of fun and end up thinking about him a lot.
my friend @nullandvalid is a big killer enthusiast too and if you send him an ask you could probably get a big rant too. (also @thaltro. both him and null write killer super well imo. been incredibly fun to listen to them talk about how they write him and engage in writing stories with them) thank you for giving me time to yap about it, ill probably be thinking of more in the meantime but this is all i have atm fhahaha
Tumblr media
another one for fun, pretty experimental. this one was one of those "draw regardless of whether or not you think it looks good" things. swore to myself the next utmv character i drew and posted was gonna be fell but here we are. gonna try to get used to posting things that i dont consider my best work. hi killer love you dude
81 notes ¡ View notes
marchofmistria ¡ 23 hours ago
Note
Howdy, I was wondering if you could do an eland x reader where you could do headcanons of them being parent If that's okay with you anyways have a lovely day
Hi there, thank you so much for sending! Love this cute idea. This ended up being about both pregnancy and parenthood, hope you don't mind! I got carried away lol.
It's not long after you and Eiland get married that you become pregnant. You two weren't really trying to prevent it from happening, totally open to the idea of raising a little one with such a beautiful community behind you and in such a beautiful place.
Elsie is the first one to realize that you were pregnant. Call it a sixth sense, but she pulls you aside after dinner at the manor one night and tells you that you have a special glow about you.
A few days later, Eiland wakes up to see you sick in the restroom and you go to Valen together to take a test.
When you two get the wonderful news, Eiland is nearly in tears and Valen has to hand him some tissues as he brings you into the deepest hug in the middle of the doctor's office.
Wanting to play it safe, you two only tell the immediate family at first. Adeline nearly screams with joy, while Elsie is happy but totally unsurprised.
The Baron and Baroness come all the way from the Capital to celebrate a new heir coming to the family. They shower you with lavish gifts and offer anything you could possibly want or need that wouldn't be readily available in Mistria.
They also offer to take you to a more well-known doctor in the Capital for your checkups, but you assure them that you have full confidence in Valen and know how much she cares about you, Eiland, and the little one.
Eiland dotes on you hand and foot during the pregnancy. He doesn't let you lift a finger, and is always concerned about your comfort. He'll spend any amount of money to make sure you have everything you need.
If he could, he'd keep you from working on the farm altogether and pay someone to help, but you insist that the exercise is good for you and the baby.
Eiland is so eager to impart all of his knowledge onto his child. He starts early by reading archeology books to the baby before you've even given birth. You don't mind, as it helps you fall asleep!
Eiland is incredibly compassionate to your pain as you carry the pregnancy. He'll massage your feet or rub oil on your stomach whenever you need.
When it's finally time for you to give birth, Eiland is supportive at each step and cries when the baby is finally put in your arms. You're so excited to see that the little one's hair is a beautiful shade of light pink, just like their father's.
Eiland is happy regardless of the gender of the baby. He just hopes that he can get them as excited in his interests as he is!
He'll happily give you breaks from taking care of the baby whenever you need a nap. He loves nothing more than sitting in a rocking chair with the baby close to his chest, while he reads some of his favorite books just as he did when they were still in your stomach.
He's an incredibly patient father. Raising his voice is just not something he's capable of doing, even when the baby begins to misbehave as they get older.
Honestly though, the baby would be quite well-mannered. They learn from the calm and studious nature of their father and aunt.
Eiland always wants to provide the best for his child and his wife, whether that means dressing you two in the finest clothing or assuring the baby receives the best education money can buy.
Eiland's favorite thing to do with his child is to take long walks through the museum, or to watch Errol work at the archeological dig site. By the time that baby is of speaking age, they can recite facts nearly as well as Eiland himself can!
You're surprised by how much the baby takes after their father. They eat up any sweets you make for them with equal enthusiasm as well.
When your little family visits the Capital, you love to tour the wonderful bakeries there and get so much joy from watching Eiland and your baby enjoy eating sweets together.
With Eiland as their father, the baby continues to grow up as a little intellectual, with a mild-mannered temperament, enthusiasm to learn about everything they can, and a kind heart.
26 notes ¡ View notes