#I’d lose my marbles too

[rosalinesurvived]

Utter ew but you know what I just realised?

Again with the Jackson-Is-Peter’s-Son Theory you’ve got Kate being a sick fuck admitting she likes very underaged boys compared to a boy who already looks like Peter and ergo Derek, who Kate already seduced read: raped at sixteen

Additionally-yeah same Allison why is Kate such a fucked up insane piece of shit? Hate to pull this out but I don’t wanna hear anyone admiring her in any way shape or form considering that she would be public enemy number one if the genders here were reversed

[shomatoriashi]

09/01/24; 04:40pm

{ 18+ headcanons / drabbles }

[ when they’re too busy with work, but you’re needy for them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

it was the middle of the night when you woke up with a start, eyes going blurry as you blindly reached out to the opposite side of the bed-

only to realize that the sheets were cold to touch.

your sleepiness dissolves in an instant, with a soft yawn coming from your parted lips as you carefully get out of bed. a shiver courses through you upon feeling the cold marble against your feet, but you ignore such icy sensations.

opening the door out of the master bedroom, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to keep in as much warmth that you could manage while making your way towards sylus’s office. there was a bit of a drag in your steps, your slow movements serving as sole evidence of your exhaustion-

but you would not sleep without sylus by your side.

finally reaching his office, you give the rich, oak door a series of knock, alerting your lover of your presence before inviting yourself inside. yet the moment you saw sylus settled on the expensive leather couch, you could feel your mouth turn dry.

he was dressed in a suit colored in ebony and crimson, the colors matching his aesthetic as his rufescent eyes meet with your gaze. an achingly soft smile graces his features, and you felt a pang of heat running down your spine at the mere sight of him.

gripping at the sheer material of your nightgown, your breathing comes out in uneven breaths. your eyes darken, mirroring your desires for him before asking, “sylus, won’t you join me in bed? it’s getting late.”

sylus’s eyes flash, giving you a momentary glimpse of lust while letting out a string of curses. “sweetheart, as much as i’d like to join you and keep you warm while in bed, i can’t. i’ve got to get these orders ready for my client.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, already feeling the moisture collecting from between your legs. not daring to look away from him, you slowly lock the door to his office, earning a raised brow from the onychinus leader.

you remain silent, stepping out of your ruined panties as you allow the flimsy material to fall to the ground. hunger was seen in sylus’s gaze the moment you shed your body free of your nightgown, allowing it to flutter to the floor before sauntering towards your lover.

sylus wastes no time pulling you closer to him, allowing your soaked cunt to pulsate against his thighs as you gently rode him, allowing your sticky sweet arousal to coat his suit.

“thats it, babygirl. keep on riding me, just like that. let me work for a little while longer, then i’ll take care of you.”

your gasps end up filling at the room, with sylus steadily losing interest in cleaning the weapons the moment you began bouncing up and down his thigh. his eyes had long since lost its crimson shade, becoming so dilated and filled with desire for you that he could feel his sanity snap.

needless to say, when sylus tosses the gun back on the table before unbuckling his pants, freeing his erection as he harshly grips at your thighs before impaling your slick heat against his cock, you lost all of your senses. being so filled with him after riding his thighs created such a hedonistic friction that you quickly became addicted to, never once stopping as you rode him with a desperation.

meanwhile, as luke and kieran were ready to deliver the next round of weapons, they froze upon seeing the office door locked as sounds of your breathy moans and sylus’s grunts were heard coming from behind the door. both twins end up looking at each other, their flustered expression hidden beneath their masks as they slowly backed away from the door.

it was best not to disturb their boss and his queen while in the middle of their trysts, a lesson that they were all too familiar with.

it was early in the morning at akso hospital, and as the staff were prepared to switch out with their coworkers for the upcoming shift, they would remain blissfully unaware of how a certain cardiac surgeon was still tied up and locked in his office.

zayne tries to hide back his groans, having to force himself to bite down on his fist the moment you came into his office. he had simply been going over some patient profiles when you came into his office with an almost dazed expression on your face.

he was filled with concern for you, already taking off his glasses while shoving his patient files to the side. one moment, he was filled with guilt for neglecting you for a few days due to how he wasn’t coming home as much-

and the next, zayne found himself settling back against his chair, with you remaining hidden beneath his desk as his cock was in your mouth. he was already half-erect the moment you began kissing his inner thighs, so it came as no surprise when he became even harder when you unzipped his pants and freed his cock from the confines of his boxers.

“i’m not mad at you.” you continue speaking to him, already stroking his cock in a loving manner before licking away the beads of precum that leaked from his mushroom tip. “i know you’re working so hard to save so many lives, but i wish to spoil you, too.”

zayne’s eyes were screwed shut the moment you place your hot mouth against his cock, feeling your tongue tracing at his veins while letting out a gasp of your name. his large hands automatically go into your hair, gently moving your head back and forth over his cock.

you hummed in pleasure, feeling the familiar twitch within your mouth. you had every intention to take him in as far as you could, yet zayne doesn’t even give you a chance to taste his cum when he harshly pulls your mouth away from his cock.

with a strength you didn’t think zayne was even capable of, you feel your lover shove aside the items on his desk before placing you on it. not even looking down at you, he slides off your soaked panties before shoving it into the pockets of his pants. gripping at your thighs, he spreads your legs apart before sheathing himself inside of you in one swift thrust.

“i need to make up for lost time… for neglecting you…” with heavy pants of your name, zayne grips at your leg before tossing it over his shoulder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head the moment he reaches oh so deeper inside of you all while kissing at your ankles.

and when your moans were heard echoing across the department, no one dared to question it.

“you’re such a brat.”

xavier was heard hissing at you, trying to keep his voice even as he was on the phone with one of the higher ups at the hunters association. here he was, trying to gather information for his mission next week while you were trying to free his cock from the confines of his pants.

“i can’t help it. you’re telling me you’re going to be gone for two weeks, and you expect me to behave?” you scoff, finally shoving down his pants to reveal his half-hardened cock. a cheshire cat grin paints your pretty features as you made quick work of stroking him to full hardness.

xavier lets out a hiss of your name, but has to swallow his moans when a stern voice was heard coming from his phone. “xavier, are you ready to receive details for this mission?”

“yes sir…!” a low gasp escapes from xavier’s lips the moment you place your lips on his tip, giving it a light suck. it takes xavier a herculean effort not to moan into the phone, feeling your hands and hot mouth fully sending him into an almost painful erection.

he catches bits and pieces of information, but was solely focused on the way your mouth and tongue traces at every inch of his cock. his breathing becomes heavier, feeling his impending climax approaching when you suddenly removed your lips away from him. the young hunter was all too eager to shove your face back against his cock when you slowly began to undress in front of him-

and dammit to hell, you just had to wear that lacy set beneath your clothes!

your soft giggle echoes throughout the room, and as you straddle him, he saw the way you moved the material of your lace panties to the side, ready to mount yourself on his cock.

“you’ve got it sir, i’ll be there next week.” luckily, xavier had already ended the call the moment you sheath his cock inside of your wet pussy, the squelching sounds of you riding his cock echoing throughout the living room. with a growl of your name, xavier grabs a hold of your waist before proceeding to bounce you up and down his cock at an almost inhuman speed.

“is this what you want? for me to ruin you completely that you won’t be able to walk until i return?”

your mewls and eager nods were all that he needed to continue pounding mercilessly into you, eyes already going dilated as he had every intention of claiming you.

“i’m going to make sure that my cock is forever imprinted against your sweet little heat… so be prepared for it, little brat…” he finishes his statement with a particularly hard thrust, making you see stars as you had every intention to ride him for as long as you could manage.

rafayel had long forgotten about his commissioned painting the moment you began to eagerly bounce up and down his cock. the moment he felt your slickness wrapping so tightly around him was when he lost all train of thought.

you had come home from work late in the evening and wished to greet rafayel. however, when you saw the portrait he was working on, you began to feel envious of the gorgeous girl seen painted on the canvas. he tried to explain to you that a governor had commissioned him to paint a portrait of his daughter for her 23rd birthday, but you didn’t wish to hear it.

and now, he found that he could care less about finishing such a portrait with you bouncing up and down so eagerly against his cock. filled with his own desperation for you, rafayel tries to meet your downward thrusts with his own upward ones, panting as he begins to lose his breath.

being so captivated and drunk off of you, the young artist could feel a whimper being ripped from the confines of his throat when you began kissing him, swallowing his grunts and moans of your name. as you continued to bounce up and down his cock, he could feel the curve of your breasts and your hardened nipples against his own chest.

“am i prettier than her?” you ask in a breathless whisper, purposefully squeezing your cunt over his pulsating dick. it was no competition in rafayel’s eyes. “o-of course you are- fuck! you’re the prettiest girl in the entire universe. you’re my fucking princess.”

a pleased hum was heard coming from you when you lay back against his lap, moving your hips up and down his cock at this brand new angle that had the artist seeing stars. “f-fuck… princess… you’re squeezing me so tight! l-like you want to milk me dry.”

“hehe, that’s the plan…” feeling your legs and cunt tightening so sweetly around him makes rafayel gasp, stilling his hips before shooting ropes of his seed deep inside of you. with you remaining laid back, your back against his thighs, you allowed your release to wash over you, earning a grunt from rafayel.

as your honeyed arousal further wets his softening cock, your lover leans over to press a searing kiss against your lips all while returning your body closer to him. his tongue fights with yours for dominance, and he lets out a pleased hum the moment you yield for him.

when the need for air proved to be too much, rafayel was the first to pull away from you, giving you a gentle smile before asking, “did our copulation manage to ease you of your envy?”

you give him a thoughtful expression, placing your pointer finger against your lips before smirking at him. his eyes end up going wide when you began to bounce up and down his limp cock, stroking it back to full hardness with a determination seen deep within your eyes.

“not quite yet, rafe… i’m going to need this to go on the whole night to make me convinced that i am the only woman for you.”

and with one final groan of your name, rafayel knew better than to deny you of your needs.

end notes: i am still soooo thirsty for my lads men, so have this post 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[voxslays]

FULL MOON

Featuring >>> Alastor x Reader; In which, Alastor is hiding his seasonal rut cycle from everyone in the hotel, including you. Unfortunately, it isn’t very long until you find out what he’s been hiding…

WARNINGS: Smut, AFAB Reader, Dub-Con??, Seasonal rut

It was late October, the time when sinners went into their seasonal ruts. For many years, Alastor had been able to pretend he was completely immune to the effects of the fall heat he felt. Being able to hide out until late November when his rut disappeared. Until this year, when you had arrived. You were a fellow deer demon, a doe to be exact. You were innocent, naive, and most of all, kind.

You knew of Alastor’s title, one he had earned from taking down and broadcasting the screams of countless overlords and other high-ranking sinners, becoming an overlord in record time. Yet, you never feared him. Alastor was curious about you, trying to truly get to know you. Not for your soul, but for you as a person. You intrigued him, entertained him. That was one of the reasons why his rut was extremely unbearable this year. He had no choice but to lock himself away from you and the other residents of the hotel—only coming out for meals—until his rut was over.

Alastor paced in his private quarters, his movements agitated and uncharacteristically erratic. The scent of your presence lingered in the halls, a sweet torment that set his nerves ablaze. He gripped the balcony railing, his claws digging into the marble as he fought to maintain control. ​​Not only did he feel the pain of his unbearable rut, but the major migraines from his shedding antlers. His antlers felt ready to drop at any moment, but not soon enough to ease his suffering.         

Alastor let out a deep groan of pain, his body wracked with tremors. He was losing control. He let out a roar of frustration, shattering several nearby floral vases. Just as Alastor is about to step into his bayou, he hears a knock on his door. Followed by a muffled voice calling his name. He quickly walks out of the miniature pocket-dimension, growing frustrated with whoever dares to interrupt his alone-time.

Alastor stormed to the door, his eyes flashing dangerously. He flung the door open, prepared to berate whoever had dared to disturb him. His words caught in his throat as he saw you standing there, your expression concerned. “Are you okay!?” You ask worriedly, pressing your hand to his burning forehead. “Do you have a fever?” Alastor's initial anger melted away, replaced by a hint of relief at your presence. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he savored the warmth of your hand. "I'm fine," he lied, his voice rough and hoarse from his recent roar. "Just a headache.” He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The scent of your concern was intoxicating, making his heart race. "I appreciate your worry, but I can handle it. It's just...a difficult time of year for me." He carefully states.

“Do you need anything? I’d be happy to help.” You give him a thoughtful smile. Alastor's resolve wavered at your kind offer. He wanted to accept, to lean on you, but he knew the risk. "You're too kind," he said softly, his hand coming up to cover yours on his forehead. "But I wouldn't want to burden you with my..." He trails off, his smile only slightly faltering. He paused, torn between his desire for you and his need to protect you from his rut. "...problems." He finished lamely, dropping his hand and stepping back. "I'll be fine. Just need some rest." He says, as sweat pours down his forehead, the room seemingly getting hotter and hotter. “Just come to me if you need anything. I hope you feel better soon!” You say, waving as you walk down the hall. Alastor watches you go, his fists clenching at his sides. He wanted nothing more than to call you back, to lose himself in your comforting presence. But he knew he couldn't, not like this.

The last time Alastor had come out of his room was Sunday. It was now a Wednesday. You and the other hotel residents—mainly Charlie and Husk (for two very different reasons)—were becoming concerned. Charlie tried to convince Vaggie and you that Alastor was fine, and he probably just needed a little space—while Husk was positive Alastor was planning something. It didn’t really matter to you. You just wanted to know Alastor was okay. When Thursday rolled around, you decided enough was enough. You marched up to his room and gently knocked on the door, not sure if you would even get an answer. The knock echoed through the silent room. Alastor was sprawled on his bed, drenched in sweat and shivering. He groaned and dragged himself up, staggering to the door. He flung it open, expecting to see Charlie or Husk.

Alastor’s eyes widen when he sees you standing in the dimly lit hallway. “Where have you been!?” You ask, with a tone of concern. ​​“Wait a moment.” You say, thinking to yourself. Alastor watched you warily, his body trembling as another wave of need crashed over him. “You’re in your rut aren’t you?” You ask. You had remembered hearing somewhere that some demons could have seasonal ruts depending on their species and sins in life. From what Alastor had previously told you, it would only make sense he had entered his seasonal cycle.

Alastor's face contorted in a mix of embarrassment, frustration, and pain. "Yes," he hissed, clenching his fists at his sides. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd leave. I can't control myself right now." He slightly trembles. “Wait-! Let me help you.” Alastor's eyes widened, and he took a step back, shaking his head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not. You can't." He trailed off, his breathing growing heavier as another surge of desire washed over him. "Please.” Your eyes meet, and you look into his crimson red pupils, now even redder with pain. “I don’t want you to suffer. Please, just let me help you.” You practically beg. Alastor's resolve wavers as he meets your gaze. The concern and care in your eyes nearly undo him. He takes a shuddering breath. "You don't know what you're offering," he warns, his voice rough with strain. "Once I start, I won't be able to stop."

“I don't care.” Something in Alastor snaps at your words. With a growl, he reaches out and gently pulls you into the room, slamming the door shut. He pins you against it, his body flush against yours. "Last chance to run," ​​You don’t dare move, too lost in his gaze. Alastor's eyes burn with an intense hunger as he looks at you. Without another word, he claims your mouth in a brutal, possessive kiss. His hands roam over your body, seeking relief from the torment. "Fuck," Alastor curses against your lips, his voice shaking with need. You gently cup his antlers, rubbing tender circles around them, relieving pain.

A low groan escapes him as you touch his antlers. He grinds himself against you, seeking friction. "More." Alastor pants out. His fingers nimbly unzipping the back of your dress, pushing it off your shoulders, and slowly sliding it off, watching it pool at your feet. His gaze drinks in the sight of you bare before him. His touch becomes gentler, reverent, as he explores every curve and line of your body. He leans down, pressing kisses along your collarbone, his hands sliding up your thighs and wrapping around to squeeze your backside. "So beautiful," His mouth travels lower, tracing the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking out to taste you. His body shudders as another wave of heat washes over him. He lifts you up in his arms, carrying you to his bed. He laid down, positioning you astride his hips. 

He guides your hips, helping you take him inside. A low moan rumbles in his chest at the exquisite feeling of you enveloping him. His hands grip your thighs as he starts to move, setting a deep, powerful rhythm. "That's it," He praises breathlessly ​​as you let out little whimpers and whines. The sound of your whimpers spurs him on, his pace quickening. He reaches between you, his calloused fingers finding the bundle of nerves at your core and stroking it rhythmically. You cry out, your nails digging into his back. Alastor's expression contorts with pleasure and pain. He lets out a guttural growl, his hips jerking up sharply. He wraps his arms around you, flipping you onto your stomach without breaking your union. 

His movements become feverish, his breath coming in short pants. You scream in pleasure, your face being gently pressed down into the pillow. His thrusts become brutal, his balls slapping against your clit with each stroke. The force of his movements causes the headboard to bang against the wall. He reaches under you, his fingers finding your mouth, shoving them inside. He leans down, his chest pressed against your back as he pistons into you. His hips stutter as he reaches his peak, a deep groan torn from his throat as he spilled deep inside you. He bites down into your shoulder, his teeth breaking your skin.

You whimper, gripping the sheets beneath you with all your strength. As he comes down from his high, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, pressing them against your lips to silence any cries. He lays his head against your back, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Shh, my love," He whispers, his voice dripping with satisfaction. You gently roll over, gently gripping his shoulders as you let out quick, shallow breaths. Alastor's gaze drops to where your bodies are still joined. He lets out a pleased rumble as he feels you tighten around him once more. He grins at you, his sharp, yellow teeth glistening with your blood.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead. He chuckles, nipping gently at your chin. "Mmm, you look delicious like that, my dear. All sweaty and disheveled.” You let out a quick breathy pant. “I am exhausted.” Your body is still slightly trembling. He grins wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Good. That means I did my job right.” He flexes his hips, his body stirring once more. “And only seventy hours to go.” Only seventy…What!?

[shuavez]

AWKWARD — nicholas a. chavez

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

[amethystwrytes]

Safe. (Part Five)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous. 

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only MDNI.

Chapter WC: 5K

AN: (1) Two chapters in one week feels excessive - but it's finished, and it’s Minho's BIRTHDAY after all, and also I think I’d like to start posting on Fridays anyway. (2) I don’t want to talk about the unspeakably preposterous and unbelievable practicality/mechanics of one of these smut scenes. You will know it when you see it and you will shush. *Suspension of disbelief rabble rabble*. Thank you, that is all.

~ PART FIVE ~ [Series M. List Here]

You’re setting the table for supper when you hear the key to the front door twist in the lock. Your stomach hardens and you eye Christopher sitting in the living room. You wonder when someone will be able to open your front door without you thinking that they’re going to come barreling through to hurt you, but it’s only Minho. 

“You can go,” Minho casually instructs Chris, who instantly stands and gives you a nod.

“Here,” you call Christopher over, and hand him a to-go box. You made way too much and even though you’re still sore at him for spilling your secrets, you want the man to eat. He takes it with a smile and a thank you, then heads out. 

Minho waits for him to shut it completely before joining you in the kitchen. 

“God that smells amazing, what did you make?” he wraps his hands around you from behind, his head dipping into the small of your neck and shoulder. 

“Spicy chicken, fried rice, and a cucumber salad because I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of you eat a fucking vegetable,” you smile. 

He chuckles, “You take such good care of us,” he smiles against your face before kissing your cheek. 

You briefly eye the front door, “Where’s Hyunjin?” 

Minhos cheerful expression fades for a split second, but he plucks a cucumber slice out of the bowl and corrects himself, “He went home to clean up a bit. He’s coming.” 

“You didn’t clean up?” you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Love, I’ve been doing this a long time, trust me when I say I’m clean as a whistle,” he explains. 

You shrug, “Okay, but it’s not polite to eat before everyone arrives, so put that salad in the refrigerator to keep it cool please,” you instruct as you slide the chicken and rice into the oven to keep warm. 

Minho does as he’s told, surprisingly, then looks at you, “I’m sorry.” 

Your brows furrow, “Sorry?” 

He nods, “I’m sorry for what I said to you in your room that day, I’m sorry for threatening to frame you for selling drugs out of the house, I’m sorry for ever giving you a reason to think I would hurt you.” 

You’d been thinking all afternoon of how you want to talk, of what you want to say to both of them this evening, but this you were not expecting. 

You let out a steady breath and nod, “I guess what I wonder then, is why? Why would you say those things? If you truly never intended to hurt me, then why would you say such awful things?” 

He presses his lips into a line and traces the streaks in the marble countertop. 

“Well?” you urge. 

“I’ve acted the way I’ve acted because I wanted you to hate me. You can’t lose people you love if you love no one and no one loves you. My feelings would be easier to resolve and manage if you hated me,” he smiles sadly, “but when you said you weren’t comfortable being seen with me, I realized having you hate me was exceptionally painful, so I did what I do when I get hurt or angry and acted like a fucking asshole. When you looked at me that day, scared and sad…I realized that I’d fucked up.”

“You are so…” you sigh, “Unstable. You know that, right?” 

“Yes,” he chuckles, “I’m aware.” 

You think of his wife and your heart aches for him again, “Were you ever going to tell me about her?” you wonder. 

His eyes widen a bit, he doesn’t need any clarification to know who you’re asking about. 

“Seola? I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “Probably…eventually. I don’t talk about her often, I don’t…I don’t like to. How did you find out about her?” 

“Jisoo did my hair and makeup for the Casino night,” you tell him, you can’t quite measure if he’s upset about you knowing or not, and you don’t want to throw Christopher under the bus, despite his loose lips. Jisoo feels like a safer option. 

He sighs, “Seola…I loved her with my whole heart. I told her early on that she should stay as far away from me as possible, but she wouldn’t,” he smiles. “When she was taken from me, I never thought I’d ever be able to have feelings for anyone else, I didn’t want to. Then you and I met, and at first I thought I could treat you like the other people I’ve slept with over the past few years, use you the way you were using me - for human contact, to feel good, but…” he trails off, unsure of how to explain it. 

“...but it feels like more,” you finish for him. 

“Yes,” he nods, stepping closer to you, taking your face gently between his hands, “it does.” 

He leans down slowly, gently, and kisses your lips. 

“Please don’t leave us,” he whispers, “don’t leave me.” 

“Then don’t ever make me feel like I need to be afraid of you,” you whisper back. 

“I won’t,” he answers. 

“Don’t let them hurt me again,” you add. 

“No one will ever lay a hand on you again baby, not as long as I’m breathing,” he promises.

You press your lips against his, pull his shirt with your fingertips, drawing him into you. His tongue traces the lines of your bottom lip and you greet it with your own. You melt as his hands roam your body, under your shirt to squeeze and caress the warm skin. You moan into his mouth and he pushes you against the countertops. 

You feel him falter and he pulls away, the two of you staring at each other; you wondering why he stopped, and him looking hindered by something unseen. 

“Do you have feelings for Hyunjin?” he asks. You were expecting this question from one or both of them at some point this evening, but it still hits you abrasively. You’re not willing to lie though. If you’re doing this, all of it, then there is no room for a growing pile of lies between you. 

“Yes.” 

“Do you have feelings for me?” 

“Yes, I do,” you nod, lifting your fingers to his hair to play with the dark strands. 

“That’s going to get extremely messy,” he warns. 

“Then it will fit right in, because all of this is a mess,” you say, looking hard at the floor. He lifts your chin up so your gaze finds his. 

“Is that really what you want? Both of us? I need to know.” 

You think for a moment, think about how you should answer, think about what his response is going to be. 

“I want you both.” 

“Is it because I’m not enough? Or because he’s not enough?” he asks, and you hear the defense in his voice, the blow to his pride and it pains you. 

You shake your head, lace your fingers with his, “It’s not that. Not at all.  You are both more than enough. It’s because you both make me feel things that I crave, because you are two polar opposite men, who make me feel so strongly, and so good when I’m with you but in such very different ways, and maybe I’m just being selfish, I know I am actually, but I don’t want to give up the way I feel when I’m with either of you.” 

Minho is about to respond when the knock on the door drags both your attentions away from the conversation. 

“It’s me, Hyunjin,” a muffled voice calls out from behind the door. 

You squeeze Minhos arm and he lays his hand over yours, giving you a halfhearted smile, but a smile, and that’s better than nothing. 

You cross the space and open the front door to Hyunjins sweet smile, the top half of his jet black hair tied up into a wet bun, the scent of his shampoo still fragrant. 

“Hi,” you smile. 

“Hi beautiful.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Dinner starts out dreadfully silent. So silent in fact that you can barely touch your food. Minho and Hyunjin dig in though, stuffing chicken, rice and cucumbers in at an alarming pace that makes you smile. They’re used to silence, to awkwardness. They’ve learned to navigate it, thrive in it, and carry on regardless of the tension. 

“Well, I’d ask you both how your day was but I suppose I know,” you finally attempt a joke, but it doesn’t come out like you intended it to and no one laughs, including you. You grab the cold beer you served with the chicken and take a very long swig. 

Minho wipes his mouth with a napkin and gives you a soft, understanding look, “You wanted us here Love, it’s your meeting so to speak,” he says. 

Hyunjin looks between the two of you as he chews his food, he seems to understand he’s missed part of the conversation, the conversation you started with Minho but this is all ass backwards and not how you wanted to start your ‘meeting.’ 

“Alright, yes,” you clear your throat, “I do have things I want to discuss with both of you.” 

Both men take a break from eating and sit a little straighter, giving you their full attention. You realize now that your hope at a more casual conversation over food was a fruitless endeavor, these men are too serious for casual. 

“I realized something today,” you begin, “I’ve realized that despite what I’ve told myself the past several months, that I am part of this organization. I’ve helped all of you at one point or another, and maybe I’ve just helped in the least criminal of ways, but I have committed crimes with you whether I like it or not. I’ve heard things, I know names, I know what you’ve done, and the things you intend to do, I am an accomplice,” you say it out loud and although it makes it real, there is a part of you that’s relieved to say it to just get it out there. 

Neither Hyunjin or Minho say anything so you continue, “I was going to run, but I think that running away would just mean that I’m running straight into more trouble for myself, for one. But also…” you trail off, “but also, I don’t want to run away from either of you.” 

Hyunjin looks at Minho so quickly that you think it could give him whiplash, but Minho doesn’t react to any of it. 

“But before we talk about that, or what that means, or how to even navigate it, I have terms I’d like to lay out,” you look at both of them. 

“What are your terms Love?” Minho asks, all business, and you wonder if he’s about to produce a pen and notebook to take notes in. 

“First, I don’t like the way some of your guys speak to me as if I’m your personal fuck toy,” you say. 

“Seungmin.” 

Hyunjin and Minho say his name simultaneously. 

“Okay yes, Seungmin, but I don’t want him punished or whatever. I would just like it made clear that while we don’t have to like each other, we don’t need to speak so disrespectfully to one another, and not to sound like a child but he always starts it,” you take another swig of beer. Minho looks as though he’s holding in a chuckle and this puts you at ease a bit. 

“It will be made clear to him and to all my employees that you are to be treated and spoken to with absolutely nothing but respect,” Minho nods with a smile, “What else?” 

“I don’t want to know everything, I don’t need to know everything, but I also don’t want to be treated like Christopher - as just an employee who does as she’s told and is only told the bare minimum. I want to be trusted, and I want you to talk to me freely about things that you need to get off your mind, or things that impact me in any way,” you say. 

“Trust is earned,” Minho says, “but after everything you’ve been through, I believe you’ve more than earned it, so done.” 

“Finally,” you take a breath, “it’s been hard for me since the night I got attacked to be alone here, or anywhere for that matter, and I know you both have things that need done, that you can’t be here all the time, and I appreciate Christopher, and Jisung, and the others…but I want you two - not necessarily at the same time - but I want the two of you.” 

The room sinks back into that familiar silence again and you wait impatiently for someone to say something, you fork some chicken and stuff it in your mouth for something to do. 

“Fine, I’ll be the one to say it,” Hyunjin half laughs, “Are we talking about fucking each other or protection detail?” 

It’s Minhos turn to take an uncomfortably large swig of beer and you have to force the small bite of chicken down your throat roughly. 

“I…well…” you stutter, “In this specific moment I’m talking about who is here in the house with me,” you clarify. 

“And what about outside this specific moment?” Minho asks for more clarification and you realize that the time has come, whether you were ready for it or not, to tell them both what you actually want. Is it what you want? You’ve never attempted a relationship that had more than two people in it, but none of those relationships turned out very well so you can’t really cite them as reliable sources, can you? 

“Honestly?” you inhale deeply and let it go, “Honestly, I wouldn’t be opposed to having you both in the other way at the same time, I’ve never done that before, it would be my first time - but the thought of it makes me wet just imagining it.” 

Hyunjin bites his bottom lip and sits back in his seat. To say you’re suddenly feeling warm is an understatement, so you chug the rest of your beer then get up for another. 

“What do you think about that?” Minho asks Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin licks his lips and you think you might combust, “Well, it wouldn’t be my first time,” he says with a smile that might be a little too proud, “it could be lots of fun,” he says avoiding eye contact with Minho and only looking at you. You swallow hard. 

“How many times have the two of you…” Minho starts, but you answer before he can finish.

“Hyunjin and I have never had sex,” you tell him, trying to keep any emotion from your voice like how it’s a bit disappointing that you’ve not slept with Hyunjin, or how you’re scared that Minho will be upset if you’d said you had, or how excited you are that you might actually get fucked by both of the men sitting with you at this table. 

“Hmm,” Minho nods, “I see.” 

“What do you think about it, boss?” Hyunjin finally looks at him, “We both said we didn’t want to share after all.” 

Only Hwang Hyunjin could look at Lee Minho and say that without it sounding like a challenge, like a threat. 

Minho exhales slowly and shrugs, “It may be a shock to some, but I’m not a closed minded man, however, I am a possessive one,” he looks at you and chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing with consideration, “so the answer to your question is that I’m not sure.” 

Your heart sinks a little, and you’re unsure of what to say. 

“We can work with possessive,” Hyunjin says, the corners of his mouth slipping into a coy smile, as if he’s flirting with Minho and your clit throbs, you can feel the way you’re soaked and you press your thighs together.

“Oh?” is all Minho responds with. 

“Mm,” Hyunjin nods, “I’m not a power player, I don’t have to be a top, I don’t have to be a bottom, I’m not picky, and you should know by now I’m very good at being told what to do.” 

You watch as Minhos expression changes, he looks at Hyunjin in a way you’ve never seen him look at any of his guys before, and then he looks at you, “You’re being awfully quiet now darling.” 

It takes you a solid three seconds to realize he’s talking to you, you’re gripping the neck of your beer so hard it might bust. 

“I’m just, thoroughly enjoying this conversation,” you grin. 

“How much?” he asks. 

Well. That was an invitation if you’ve ever heard one. You swallow your sip of beer and stand, shuffling out the wrinkles of your cotton skirt and step closer to him, “Would you like to see?” you ask, bunching up the skirt in your fists higher and higher until the tops of your thighs are exposed. 

Minho chews his lip as his fingertips trace delicate lines up your legs, finally disappearing beneath the fabric, pushing your panties to the side so he can swirl them in your arousal. You gasp, tilting your head back as he moves his fingers against you. 

“My, my,” he whispers, voice gravelly with want, and he looks as if he wants to knock everything off the table to fuck you on it. You wouldn’t be opposed. 

Hyunjin sits motionless on the other side, watching, and though you’ve never really considered how it would make you feel, you find that having him watch feels very good. 

Minho removes his fingers from your cunt and uses them to motion Hyunjin over. Your heart starts pounding. Hyunjin moves slowly, but you can see his erection straining against his pants. 

“So Hyunjin has never played with you?” Minho asks, his eyes on Hyunjin. 

“We’ve kissed…” you manage to speak between catching your breath. 

“But he’s never tasted you? Your pussy that is?” 

You shake your head back and forth. 

“Go on then,” Minho looks at him darkly, touching Hyunjins mouth with his fingertips, spreading your slick across his bottom lip. Hyunjin sucks Minhos fingers into his mouth hungrily, a groan escaping from somewhere deep in his chest. 

“I have to admit, knowing he’s not had you is pretty satisfying to me,” Minho chuckles, yanking his fingers from Hyunjins mouth, “I wonder how far I can push him before he comes undone?” he stands from the table, “Has everyone eaten? No ones starving anymore?” he asks the two of you and finishes off his beer. 

“Not for food,” Hyunjin comments and winks at you. 

“Then let’s go to the living room, shall we?” Minho grabs your hand and pulls you forward, Hyunjin following close behind. 

Minho kisses you deeply, then takes a seat in the armchair, “Why don’t you help our girl out of her pretty clothes?” 

“Gladly,” Hyunjin whispers, taking the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head, he tosses it across the room then drops to his knees as you unzip the side of your skirt. He helps you shimmy it down into a pool of fabric around your feet and you step away from it. Hyunjin looks up at you, his eyes scanning your body, and he hooks his fingers into your underwear, pulling them slowly down your legs. 

“Don’t even think about putting your lips on her, not yet, I say when,” Minho instructs from the chair. Hyunjin freezes as if that’s exactly what he was about to do. 

“Yes sir,” Hyunjin grins. 

You want to interject and say that if Minho doesn’t give the go ahead soon, you might be the one coming undone, but you stay silent, you’re not sure what to do anyway, and something in your gut tells you it needs to happen like this, for them, in order for Minho to be right with it. 

“Sit on the sofa, Love,” Minho tells you and you sit, like a good girl, on the sofa then look at him for further instruction. He laughs, “You look so eager darling, so fucking turned on, do you want me to be nice for you?” 

“Yes,” you nod frantically, “Please.” 

“Do you want him to taste your cunt finally?” 

“Mmhmm,” you keep nodding, leaning back into the cushions, kneading your breasts. 

“Spread your legs for him, so he can see how fucking gorgeous you are,” he instructs. 

You nearly go out of your mind watching Hyunjin crawl between your legs, his fingernails raking red lines up your thighs. Hyunjin looks behind at Minho for permission. 

“First,” Minho halts him, “take your shirt and pants off, you look dreadfully uncomfortable.” 

Hyunjin smiles and tears his shirt over his head, then stands briefly to remove his trousers before resuming his position between your legs. 

“Now, make our princess cum,” Minho grins. 

Hyunjin does what he’s told, but he also takes his sweet time, licking and sucking kisses on the inside of your thighs and you wonder if he’s savoring the moment like you. This heated, passionate affair that seems to have been building up since the night you sewed stitches into his side. 

Finally, he grabs hold of your thighs roughly and drags you to the edge of the sofa, “you ready Doll?” 

“God, yes…” 

His tongue is eager against your flesh, but in true Hyunjin fashion, is also quick, soft, controlled and deliberate. He was told to make you cum, and he’s honing in on that target like his life depends on it. 

“How does it feel, baby?” Minho asks and you manage to turn your head towards him, “let’s hear you.” 

“It feels so fucking good, he’s so good at it,” you whimper, looking back down at Hyunjin. His eyes lock with yours and you watch as his tongue appears and disappears between your folds. You rest your head back onto the sofa and moan, your hips beginning to move in time with his mouth, you’re so close. 

“She’s about to cum, I can tell by her face,” Minho smiles, and you nod, unable to verbally confirm this, “let go baby, cum for him.” 

Minhos deep, gravelly command paired with Hyunjins soft tongue lapping at you pushes you far beyond your capacity to hold yourself back. Your body quakes as your orgasm ripples over and over, your clit becoming so sensitive you have to physically push Hyunjins face away with your hands and plea with a quiet “stop.” 

Hyunjin is totally out of breath as he sits back on his ankles, he wipes his mouth with his arm, eyes dark, and looks at Minho. 

“How close are you to busting?” Minho chuckles. 

“Very.” 

Minho licks his lips, then unzips his pants, releasing his own cock from the confines of his clothes. He strokes himself gently then nods his head towards you, “Go on then, she loves getting fucked right after you eat her out, don’t you baby?” 

“Yes,” you groan, “Very much.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate a moment before ripping his boxers down and kicking them away, he takes your shoulders and shoves you down onto the sofa, propping one of your legs on the back and sliding between. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll last,” Hyunjin warns. 

“It’s okay,” you breathe, “you don’t have to make me cum again.” 

“Yes he does,” Minho says coolly from the chair, “yes he fucking does.” 

“Heard,” Hyunjin manages to tease. 

Hyunjin lines himself up with you as you dig your nails into his shoulders, desperate for it, needing it. He pushes in slowly, and your eyes lock as he fills you to the hilt. Your lips part and you wiggle a bit, urging him to move, he does. He’s going impossibly slow, his brows knitted together in concentration. 

“Fuck you’re perfect,” he moans, his hips speeding up just a bit. You can’t help but steal a look at Minho, who watches you both from the same chair he’s been sitting in, slowly stroking himself, lip tucked tightly between his teeth. 

You lift your hips a bit to meet Hyunjins thrusts, sliding your hands down his sides, around his thighs to pull him closer, deeper. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, his name a plea for him to do something, though you’re unsure of what. Feeling his cock drag in and out, hitting some delicious spot within, watching Minho look and hearing his little gasps every time you whimper or moan might actually be your undoing. 

Hyunjins movements become more desperate, more erratic, and you’re sure he won’t be able to hold himself back much longer. You take his face in your hands and he looks at you, “Make me cum,” you gently drag his hand down to your neck, his breath stutters as he wraps his long, delicate fingers around your throat to hold you down gently while he fucks into you. You push back with every thrust, causing a rough but welcome collision and you cum so hard around his cock that you can feel it in your very bones. You cry out, hips bucking just a bit off the sofa as you spasm around him. 

He thrusts into you only twice more before freezing, his breath escaping in a muffled moan as he buries his face into your neck. 

Hyunjin pulls you towards him and captures your lips with his.

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

Minho finally makes his way to the couch, Hyunjin moves aside, practically collapsing. 

“Feel better?” Minho smiles, rubbing circles on your legs. 

You nod, claiming his hand in yours to lace your fingers together. 

He looks between your legs, “You’re a mess,” he drags the back of his finger up your slit, swirling Hyunjins leaking fluids around your own. You shudder with a gasp at the stimulation. 

“Come, let’s go upstairs,” Minho stands and extends his hand to you; he pauses briefly in front of Hyunjin and stares, then caresses his jawline with his thumb, “you did good, impressive. Come on.” 

Minho leads you both into the master bath where he reaches into the walk-in to start a shower. You step close to him and start undoing the buttons of his shirt, looking up at him as he strokes your hair. You continue silently undressing him until the three of you stand totally naked in the middle of your steamy bathroom. 

Minho grabs your chin with his fingertips and draws you into him, his mouth desperate for yours and your lips crash together with urgent moans. In your peripheral you can see Hyunjin step into the shower and rinse himself off, he reaches out and tugs on you and Minho, who barely takes his mouth off you to shuffle into the warm water. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Minho asks in a grunt as he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Wanted to be our needy little slut, so fucking pretty and sweet, getting fucked out by both of us?” he whispers as your back presses against the cold stone of the shower wall. 

You grin like the cheshire cat and nod, “Mmhmm.” 

Minho smiles and shakes his head at you before his lips overtake yours again, and you also feel Hyunjins hands roaming as he puts himself between your back and the wall, his body much warmer and less scratchy than the stone. You can feel Minhos hard erection sliding against your soaked pussy and your breath hitches. Hyunjins wet hands slide around your body and he fingers at your nipples, stroking and squeezing. Minho leans in and you watch through the steam as he takes Hyunjins mouth with his own, his cock rubbing against your clit as he positions himself to fuck you against Hyunjin. 

This exceeds even your highest expectation of what this experience would be like. Feeling Minho bouncing you on his cock while you listen to the two of them moan into each others mouths, Hyunjins fingers circling your clit gently while the other hand takes turns playing with your breasts and yanking your hair to tilt your head back for neck kisses. 

“Fuck,” you whine, the impossible ache inside you is building again, you can’t remember the last time you orgasmed three times in one evening, or if you ever have, but you’re going to. 

“Gonna cum for me Love?” Minho presses his forehead against yours, breathless, pumping his hips up into you. 

“Yes,” you half laugh in delirium, “Fuck, yes keep going…” 

You can feel his fingertips digging into the sides of your ass, feel how desperate he is to finish, you lean your head forward to kiss him, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting as you reach your high. Your orgasm comes out in a choked gasp, your body completely spent, and you feel him pull out a bit and spill himself all over your cunt. 

Hyunjin washes you off while Minho catches his breath then the three of you, unbothered to put on clothes or even dry off, collapse on your bed, drops of water everywhere but no one caring. 

You’re not surprised that Minho pulls you in immediately, wrapping his arm around you tight - possessive. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you sigh, eyes already shut and sleep getting closer and closer to overtaking you. 

“Pleasure isn’t a bad thing people,” Hyunjin yawns, switches off the lamp, then flips to his side to properly sandwich you in. His long, lean arm draped over you while his fingers massage circles on Minhos shoulder. “It’s not this thing that has to be confined in a specific little box, used for one specific purpose at a time like it isn’t supposed to just be this fun, enjoyable thing-,” 

“Hyunjin?” Minho grumbles with closed eyes. 

“Yes boss?”

“Stop talking and go to sleep.” 

“Yes boss,” he laughs.

Endnotes:

I think I'm going to try to tag my taglist besties in the comments this time and see how that goes and where it takes us.

As usual, if you've made it far enough to read this, here's your virtual smooch <3

[ayeyolooo]

You and I we’re made of glass, we’d never last.

🎧-tumblr girls, g eazy

You and eren were currently going through a disagreement. You’ve had many arguments and disagreements before but this one? This was the worst one of them all. You were throwing dishes at him having him dodge them and scream at you. “WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM Y/N!” Eren screamed as your marbled white glass dishes shattered into many pieces on the floor. “You! you’re my problem eren are you really okay with doing that how could you??” You shouted with tears coating your eyes.

“Do what y/n? You’re my woman, I gave you my virginity and a house, a family ..everything.” Eren’s voice cracked as he looked at you with tear coated eyes. See eren wasn’t really an emotional person, but you the chalant in the nonchalant was chalanting. “Why are you cheating on me eren??” Erens heart dropped. Wow.. eren thought. “You really think that I’d cheat on you y/n? Really??” Tears streamed down erens face right along with yours.

Your nails cracked as you wipes your face. “I don’t know what to expect from you eren. You lie to me a lot.” You said sniffing and chuckling a little. Erens Adam apple just bobbed as he nodded his head in disbelief. “Are you serious y/n?” He asked looking at you with so much hurt in his eyes. “Yes.” You said with a sour expression on your face. Eren just sniffed and shook his head. “You believe everything everyone says y/n rather than your own husband and that’s a shame.” Eren said walking to your bedroom. You followed quickly with tears in your eyes.

“Where are you going?” You sniffed and leaned on the door. Eren just ignored you and allowed tears to fall on his cheeks. “I’m leaving you alone, y/n I love you but we need a break. I need a mental break you’re hurting me a lot y/n. I’m trying to be there for you. I’m trying to be the best husband and father but y/n you’re making it hard for me.” Eren sniffed and looked at you with his unique teal eyes. “Don’t cry.” Even though he was crying he still walked over to you and wiped your tears away. “I don’t want you to leave me.” You cried harder. You’ve gotten so attached to eren that you don’t want to lose him, but you can see that you weren’t being kind to him. “Listen I’m going to go to armin’s and ony’w for a few days and give you some time to think okay?” He said placing some baby clothes in his bag too. Wait not my baby too I’m going to take Imani and give you some time I love you y/n eren said carefully picking up y’all’s newborn and kisses your forehead before walking out of the room.

Yes I wrote eren with emotions because boys telling us their emotions needs to be normalized 😭.

Remember Jesus loves you <3

[chronic-escapixt]

Human Sacrifice

prisonworld!Kai x f!reader

content warnings/tags ~ Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY, Dark fiction, NONCON, kidnap, rough sex, p in v, knife kink, bondage, oral (m receiving), forced orgasm, assault, blood, biting, choking, explicit language, corruption kink

word count: 2.8k

summary: you wake up alone in the middle of nowhere but unfortunately for you, you're not completely alone.

There’s no telling how long I’ve been out here, trekking the same route through this wheat field, my disoriented state worsened by the sun beating down on my body for hours on end. Calls for help fall on deaf ears, feeling so hopeless that I continue on in silence. There’s no one around for miles or at least that’s the fear that grips me into a panic as I dart in the opposite direction thinking that will make a difference.

I’m lost and I don’t even know how I ended up here. One moment, I’m loading my car with my bags to head home for the fall break and the next thing I know, I’m lying in a pile of wheat. In fact, I don’t even remember actually getting on the road. It’s all a tangled mess in my memory that I can’t even begin to sort out until I find some civilization. 

The field eventually opens up and I spot a white farmhouse in the distance. Hoping there’s people inside with a phone so I can call for help. I’m coming up the driveway when I hear the sound of quick footsteps on the loose gravel. I turn in the direction of the noise and scan the area, but there’s nothing there. 

“Hello!” I call out.

There it goes again. I spin around in a hurry. This is weird, and I’m suddenly regretting coming here at all. 

There’s a hard thump at the back of my head and I fall onto the gravel, quickly losing consciousness as a pair of black combat boots fill my line of vision.

I come to with a groan, the pain radiating from the lump at the back of my head to the gash at my temple from the fall. Trying to move my arms proves impossible when there's a thick rope wound around my wrists, securing me up to the wall by a hook above my head.

“Finally! For a minute there, I thought I’d hit you too hard and knocked all the marbles out of your head.” A male’s sardonic voice breaks the silence from the corner of the room, startling me before I strain my eyes. My kidnapper, shrouded in darkness, makes a noise like a creaky chair and stands before stepping into the light.

“Where are my manners? I’m Kai.” My face contorts in confusion. The way he changes his tone to imitate politeness is uncanny. It’s truly unsettling me the way he thinks manners could restore any sense of normalcy after beating me over the head and tying me up. 

He takes another step forward and a scream shreds my throat. 

“HELP!”

“Let me stop you right there. There’s no one else here.. just you and me,” he puts it cut and dry.

I shudder at the thought. 

“No one is coming to save you.. Quite honestly, you don’t have a friend in the world.. Or at least not in this one..” he gives a taunting chuckle. 

“Pleassee…” I whimper but he doesn’t seem at all moved. He purses his lips and rolls his eyes at me. 

“Don’t beg. Believe it or not, I don’t even want to hurt you,” he saunters toward me as I brace myself, flush to the stone wall. He reaches out and snatches my hair in a fist, so hard my neck could snap, forcing me to look up into his eyes, “but I will end your life if you don’t tell me everything I want to know.” 

I feel the unmistakable chill of a knife at the base of my throat and hold still except for the instinctual urge to swallow thickly. 

“Do you understand me?”

I nod.

“Use your words,” he commands. 

“Yes,” I pipe up.

“Good girl.” He wets his lips, “Why did they send you here?”

My response bursts out as nervous babbling, “whatdoyoumeanIdon’tevenknowwhatyourtalkingabout I-” 

The blade silences me to a squeak as he presses it into my neck threateningly.

“Do you know anything?” He groans in a dry tone. 

“M-my name is Y/N! I work at the university library.. My parents own a farm upstate.. I-I don’t know why I’m here.. Honestly..” I blubber.

He lets out a heavy sigh and tucks his knife away into his back pocket.

“If it’s money you want I can-”

“Shut up.” He studies my face for a brief moment, raising his hands. I flinch, thinking he'll strike me, but they just hover there before he places them on my cheeks. I jump when he lets out a loud laugh, turning away from me. 

“You’re useless! You don’t even have any magic!” 

“..magic?” 

“Yes, magic! How else do you think you ended up in my prisonworld?” He scoffs at me as if I'm the crazy one while he’s muttering to himself like a madman. I start fidgeting with my ropes again, desperate to get away from him. 

He goes eerily silent and slowly returns to me. My body sinks into the wall as he closes the distance between us.

“Ooh, I get it.. dear old dad is trying to butter me up before they release me.. apparently the wonder twins fell through and they’re gonna’ give me a shot at the merge afterall,” he chuckles, running the back of his hand down my cheek, cold rings chilling me to the bone.

“I don’t understand..”

“It’s been nearly two decades since I’ve enjoyed anything other than my right hand.. being trapped here alone and all.. and while I still plan on raining down a fiery vengeance on my coven, I'm not opposed to accepting their gifts in the meantime.. especially when they’re as pretty as you.”

“No- NO! I’m not-” I’m squirming hard, his arms come down at either side of my head, caging me in.

“hush-shh-shh, I’m not gonna hurt you.. just let me look at you..” I attempt to steady my breathing. 

He studies me, looking me up and down, “your tits are on the smaller side but I bet they’re pretty too..”

He gave my breast a tight squeeze and I yelp. I want to beg, but it’s no use. His hands are already trailing up my thighs without a word as I silently curse whoever brought me here for putting me in this mini skirt. Come to think of it, I’m not wearing my bra either. It seems I was giftwrapped especially for this horny sociopath. 

He wrenches me apart and forces each thigh across his hips as I writhe in his grasp. 

“No.. none of that. I want to enjoy this..” 

I scream but he captures the sound with his mouth and I'm overwhelmed by the heady flavor of spicy mint. His tongue invades every corner of  my mouth, stroking my own with vigor. He's starved and trying to consume me all at once.

I tremble as he raises the knife and brings it to my chest. The blade shreds through the fabric of my shirt, exposing my breasts in one foul swoop. My perked nipples seem to meet his approval when he mumbles, “definitely pretty.” 

He tweeks one with the pads of his fingers while fully kneading my other breast to his evil little heart’s content.

“.. fuckkkk..” I exhale

He grins, “like that, huh?” 

“NO!” I shout, trying to kick my legs free as hard as I can. He pins me flush with his hips, my tailbone colliding with the rough wall. I can feel his stiffen, the hot shape digging into me. 

He recaptures my lips, his hands growing rougher with my tender breasts. 

It hurts but in a way I can’t stop myself from enjoying. His cruel touch makes my deepest parts quiver.

I want so badly to squeeze my legs closed, hide it from his wandering hands that are already locked onto their next target, his palm finding the wet patch in my panties, his fingers prodding at my leaking hole through the cloth. 

He pushes the fabric aside as he couldn’t be bothered to pull them off of me completely. The direct contact with my puffed pearl sends corresponding pulses up to the pit of my stomach as I whine and squeeze my eyes shut.

He pauses. “no.. hey,  look at me..” 

I pop my eyes open when I feel his hand rub my juices across my face and lips, forcing me to confront how shamefully wet he’s making me, before sliding back into place between my thighs.

A finger slips inside, prodding my tender walls with careful consideration before retreating from me.

“You’re so tight I might break you.”

He proceeds to unbuckle his pants, dropping his cargos and briefs. His cock jumps with its own pulse. The length was nothing short of intimidating, a girth that could rival my forearm and a bulbous mushroom tip that made my insides grind in anticipation. There’s no way that’s fitting inside me.

I protest by squirming again, but he grabs my face, his fingers digging into my cheekbones, 

“Behave yourself and this will be fun for the both of us.”

I shake my head. He’ll rip me half and judging by his behavior thus far, he’s not gonna be gentle about it. 

“Stop..stop it.. I know it’s big.. I’ll make it fit.. okay? Come on.. you’re plenty wet. You’re probably one of those perverted girls that gets off to this stuff anyway.. aren't you?”

“Go to hell,” I snarl.

He tightens his hold until my lips squish closed, “mark my words, I’m gonna make you come on my cock.” 

He gets to work, stroking my clitoris. 

I chew my lips till I taste blood but my moans escape from me anyway. My body seems to completely betray me and arch into his touch. I can hear his hum of approval as he feels my body submit to him. He slides two digits inside, beginning to pump into my squishy walls as I rut my hips to his movements, just mindlessly chasing the high from whatever he gives me.

“Good girl..” He growls in my ear. His hand strokes the length of his member until his precum pearls at the flushed tip.

He butterflies me open against the wall and pushes into me all at once, grunting in my ear as I cry out garbled nonsense. my nails digging into my palm, the only movement I’m allowed

His cock reaches depths I didn’t think were possible, far beyond the damage I could do with my largest toys on my nightstand back home. I struggle to accommodate him the way he forces my body to. Though I’m fully aroused, he leaves an aching burn every inch of the way. 

He’s all I can sense, completely overriding my nervous system. I don’t even notice my tears until he licks them away with his tongue. 

“See, I told you I could- hey.. don’t cry..” he whispers as if trying to console me, as if I can’t feel his sadistic smile on my skin.

Every thrust, erratic yet precise. He knocks the air from me, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. My core responds by wetting his path so that each stroke leaves a sloppy squelching echo between our bodies. 

Despite my best efforts, it seems he’s going to make good on his promise. The way the coil in my gut draws dangerously tighter with each brush of his generous cock. The ridges along him catch at my stretched walls making me clamp down for the sensation. 

He feels it too, I know it by the way his hand balls into a tight fist at my side. 

My moans go shrill when he leans down to bite my collar bone. 

The combination of pleasure, pain, and fear turn me nuclear. I just combust into waves of ecstasy, my walls milking him until he twitches and creams my insides with thick coats of his spend. 

He pulls away from my neck, and I catch a glimpse of his face. Soft parted lips, hooded gray eyes and a deep red flush that colors his pale skin all the way down his neck. He’s the embodiment of evil, I’m sure of it, but in this moment I can only process his gorgeously fucked-out face.

“Best gift ever..” he sighs and chuckles to himself. Then his hand reaches up and wraps around my throat, ending the moment as soon as it started. I squirm and kick as panic sets in. 

It can’t end like this.

I gasp as he constricts my airway, cooing in my ear in his soothing voice. “Shhh.. it's okay.. just go back to sleep..”

My struggles weaken until tiny black spots fill my vision and I’m out again.

I wake up in a bed. The light of early morning streaming in through the curtains. I must’ve slept through the rest of the afternoon and night, yet my body is still riddled with exhaustion. Oddly though, after all I’ve been through, I feel clean and when I pull the covers off I see I was changed into a black dress, more like lingerie with its lacy fabric so sheer and tight I can practically see my kidneys. There’s a mirror over on the vanity and I rise on shaky legs and take a seat in front of it. 

I see a fresh bandage on my forehead. My lips are still red and puffy and my eyes are bloodshot from crying. Between my neck and shoulder in a purple bruise in the shape of a bite. I run my fingers along the divots from his teeth and wince.

“Someone must be awake from their beauty rest.” I jump at the sound of his approaching voice from down the hall.

I have to get out of here. I get up and dash out of the room, running as fast yet as quiet as I can in the opposite direction. Each step causes me pain as I hold my abdomen but I beeline down the stairs to the front door. 

I think I made it home free until I turn the knob and it doesn’t budge. I try repeatedly, but the fucker rigged it so I can’t get out. I’m locked in from the outside. My hands are shaking now, but as I back away, I catch the gleam of a set of keys in the corner of my eye. 

Hope fills my chest, but before I can reach them, I’m swept up by a pair of strong arms and lifted off the ground.

“Where do you think you’re going, hm?” he husks. 

“Just let me go! I don’t know why I’m here or who sent me. I just want to go home!” I scream.

He chuckles darkly and holds me so tight it's hard to breathe. 

“I already told you why you’re here, and if you want to make it back home in one piece, I suggest you get with the program, baby.” 

He hurls me onto the floor and I roll until my ribs knock in the pointed corner of the wall. The pain makes me cry out. 

He shakes his head and tsks, “pathetic.” His taunting footsteps approach as I cower in the corner, holding my hand out as silent plea.

He reaches down and grabs the back of my neck, holding me in place.

“Aww, haven't had my new toy for a whole 24 hours and I already broke her..”

“I’m not broken,” I bite out. I mean that. I refuse to let him break me.

“Oh?” he sneers at my indignation, “then prove it.” 

He’s unzipping himself with the other hand, shoving his cock in my face. 

“Show me my pretty new toy still works.”

I stare down the veiny monster. Too big from my singular hand to wrap around, but I reach out anyway until he stops me. 

“Mouth only. Come on.. show me the slut who humped my hand in the basement. The one that gets off to being used like a fleshlight.”

Just like before, I submit. Only because I had too, of course - or at least that’s what I tell myself.

I open my mouth, tilting my head back.

He forces himself in, halfway deep until he’s hitting my gag reflex.

“Relax your throat and breath through your nose.. jus’ like that.. atta’ girl.”

I reach up to stabilize my weak body against his thighs as he guides me by the back of my head up and down his shaft until my jaw grows sore and wet and tears run down my cheeks.

I feel him twitch at the back of my throat and then a sticky warmth envelops my tongue. He looks down and mouths for me to swallow it and I obey.

When he releases me, I crumble against the wall like a used rag doll. 

He adjusts himself back into his pants then hauls me up by my arms, my body too weak to do anything but let him.

“Come on. Let’s get some actual food in your stomach before your body gives out on me.”

Part 2? (comment or reblog to join taglist)

[revehae]

two days ago, this blog turned two years old. well, that’s if you ignore the fact that i accidentally deleted my blogs this january. in spite of that, so many of you are still here with me and have been supportive even when i was quite literally losing my marbles. you guys have been patient through my periods of inactivity and reread my fics with the same amount of appreciation for them as you had the first read - if not more. and for that, i say thank you.

but i’m also saying goodbye.

just kidding! i was being serious for too long and so i felt the need to potentially strike some fear into someone’s heart for fun. anywho, no, i’m not actually leaving. not yet, anyway. there is so much more i want to do with this blog and so many ideas i want to share that will most likely carry on to the following year. so yeah, you guys are still stuck with me.

am i taking the two-year anniversary of a mostly k-pop tumblr blog teeming with dark, degenerate fantasies that ought to get me stoned by stubby, hairy ogres way too seriously? perhaps. but i’ll never forget what this blog means to me. i’m in a place now where my trauma is no longer something i feel suffocated by or bound to, but when i created this blog, i admit that there were still large parts of me that felt like i was “broken.” this was only possible because i found safe places where i could acknowledge it without fear of being judged, blamed, or attacked.

i realize not everyone has those places. one of the greatest delights i have is being able to own a blog where people with similar experiences as me are able to confront their pain in a way that makes them feel safe, comfortable, and most importantly, in control.

i went through periods of time where i wouldn’t even leave my room because i was so terrified of being subjected to the same nightmare again. i couldn’t go out in public, because when i did, i was constantly worried that someone was out to give me. this affected my relationships with my friends, family, myself, sex, the world - everything. it is a hell i wouldn’t even wish on Trumpington McDonaldton. or would i? just kidding. not really, considering his track record. but, back to the point, i know what it’s like to live in the dark. i know how unfair it is that someone can swoop in, ruin your life, and never, ever face consequences. meanwhile, you are staring at the consequences of what someone else did every single day. i know what it’s like to blame yourself. i know what it’s like to wish that things were different.

but i also know that as unfair as it is, as painful as it is, and as hard as it may be to accept, no one is going to single-handedly fix you. you have to be your own healer. you have to put the work in to build yourself back up and bounce back stronger than ever. i know firsthand how intimidating that can be, however, in my experience, the first step was not hiding from what i’d gone through. in a way that i originally never thought would be possible, writing and reading noncon fics was one of the most helpful ways of doing that. everything about this blog has been extremely cathartic for me. and the best part about it is that many of you have told me it’s cathartic for you as well, which fills me with a glee words cannot describe.

now, of course, my blog is not limited to Traumatized Individuals who had their brains rewired in the worst way possible via some negative experience - although i doubt you’re not still somehow traumatized if you religiously read my content. if you aren’t a victim of SA, you aren’t going to be crucified for reading noncon. it’s okay. don’t worry. but still, i will always support and stand up for those that are, even if they don’t cope in the same way as me. because not reading is also okay. there are so many different ways to cope with SA; i’m just happy to provide one of them to those that seek it out.

again, thank you all! thank you to those that have been here since the beginning. thank you to those that followed me this week. thank you to those who leave nice messages in my inbox, and reblog, and leave comments. thank you to my dearest sweet mutuals. thank you to those who followed me here from lisired and didn’t unfollow me when you realized i’m a little bit insane. thank you to those that read my fics over and over and never get bored! let’s heal together everyone. but let’s also be depraved and Scare The Hoes. and if you read all of this, i love you and i hope you get everything you ever wanted in life.

- with all of the love in the world, revehae!

[hookhausenschips]

Between The Lines {LN4}

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Summary: Y/N, a 23-year-old woman from the Bahamas, reunites with her brother and his racing friends, including Lando Norris, who has always harbored feelings for her despite their complicated past. As they navigate the tension, secrecy, and the allure of forbidden love, Y/N and Lando must decide whether to confront their emotions or continue living between the lines of what could be.

WC: 8k (she’s a long one)

Requested? Yes/No

Join My Taglist

Warnings: angst, toxic relationship, jealousy, sexual tension, strong language, allusions of smut

you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Y/N’s POV

The sun was setting as I stepped out of the airport and into the warm embrace of the Portuguese breeze. It carried with it the scent of the ocean, the kind that instantly reminded me of home—the Bahamas. As much as I loved my life in California, there was something about being by the water that grounded me, like I was reconnecting with a part of myself I’d left behind. My curls danced in the wind as I walked towards the taxi stand, my suitcase rolling along behind me.

The drive to our family’s vacation home was a familiar one. Even though it had been years since I’d last been here, I knew every twist and turn of the road by heart. The white-washed walls of the house came into view, nestled against the cliffs that overlooked the Atlantic. It was a place full of memories, of laughter and late-night conversations, of sun-soaked days and quiet moments under the stars. But as much as I loved this place, there was a heaviness in my chest that I couldn’t quite shake.

I had come here to prepare the house for my friends, to create a space where we could all unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But the moment I stepped inside, I knew this trip wasn’t going to be just about catching up with old friends. This was about revisiting the past—whether I was ready for it or not.

I ran my fingers over the cool marble countertop in the kitchen, taking in the familiar sights and smells of the house. Everything looked just as it did when I was last here, though a bit more worn with time. The white curtains fluttered in the breeze, and the scent of fresh lemons from the trees outside wafted through the open windows.

“This place hasn’t changed a bit,” I murmured to myself, smiling at the nostalgia that wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

But as much as I wanted to lose myself in the peacefulness of the house, I couldn’t help but think about what was coming. My brother, Keylon, had mentioned he’d be stopping by with some of his friends before heading back to the UK. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since I had left to pursue my career and school. And with him, Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell would be here too. I couldn’t help the way my heart skipped a beat at the thought of Lando. 

Lando and I had always shared a unique connection, one that lingered in the background of our interactions. When I visited Keylon in the UK, Lando was always there, and I couldn’t ignore the way he looked at me—like I was something more than just his best friend’s little sister. His crush on me was obvious, but we never acted on it. Timing, distance, and life had always gotten in the way. And then years passed without a word.

Now, we were about to be in the same place again. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of anticipation and nerves. I wondered if he had changed, if he still felt the same way. Or if we’d simply drifted too far apart.

As I unpacked my suitcase and started setting up the house for my friends, I let my thoughts drift back to those times in the UK. The nights when Lando and I would sit on the porch, talking about everything and nothing, with his quiet admiration always lingering just beneath the surface. I wondered what it would be like to see him again after all these years.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway snapped me out of my thoughts. My heart rate quickened as I walked to the front door, anticipation bubbling up inside me. I opened the door just as Keylon stepped out of the car, his familiar grin lighting up his face.

"Y/N!" he called out, his voice filled with excitement as he rushed over to give me a bear hug. "It's been too long, sis!"

I laughed as I hugged him back, the years melting away in that moment. "It really has, Key. You haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you," he replied, pulling back to look at me. "Still the same little sister I remember, just as stubborn and beautiful as ever."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere. But thanks, I guess."

Before I could say more, my eyes drifted over Keylon’s shoulder, landing on the figure emerging from the other side of the car. And there he was—Lando Norris. My breath caught in my throat for a second. He looked different, more mature, more confident. But his eyes, those bright blue eyes that had always seemed to see right through me, were the same.

"Y/N," Lando greeted me, his voice deeper than I remembered, but still carrying that same warmth.

"Lando," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual even though my heart was pounding in my chest. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, it has been," he said, and for a moment, something passed between us—an unspoken acknowledgment of the years that had separated us and the connection that still lingered.

Max appeared next, a broad grin on his face as he gave me a quick hug. "Y/N, it’s good to see you! This place is amazing as always."

I smiled at Max, grateful for his easygoing nature that helped break the tension. "It’s good to see you too, Max. Glad you like it."

As we all stood there, the air around us was thick with nostalgia and something more—something electric that neither Lando nor I seemed ready to confront just yet.

"Come on, let’s get inside," Keylon said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "I’m starving, and I’m sure you’ve got some of that famous Bahamian food waiting for us."

I chuckled, grateful for the distraction. "Of course, Key. I wouldn’t let you starve on my watch."

But as we headed inside, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip was going to be more complicated than I’d anticipated. The past had a way of creeping back in when you least expected it, and with Lando here, I had a feeling it was going to hit me full force.

I spent the next hour trying to focus on the tasks at hand—unpacking, arranging towels, making sure the kitchen was stocked. But my mind kept drifting back to the earlier reunion with Keylon and Lando. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, and I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had shifted. 

As I fluffed the last pillow on the couch, I heard the front door open, followed by the sound of familiar laughter. Keylon’s deep voice echoed through the hallway as he called out, “Y/N! We’re here!”

I took a deep breath and turned, just in time to see him bounding into the living room with Lando and Max in tow. They brought with them the energy of old times, and suddenly, it felt like we were back in those carefree days when we were all just a bunch of kids with no real worries. But now, there was an undercurrent of tension, one that I wasn’t sure how to navigate.

“Hey, sis!” Keylon grinned, his arms full of grocery bags. “Figured we’d help stock up on some essentials.”

I smiled, grateful for the gesture. “Thanks, Key. You know me too well.”

Lando stepped forward, offering a small smile that made my heart do that stupid flip again. “We picked up some snacks too. Figured we’d be needing them.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep things light. “Snacks, huh? You’re still obsessed with those terrible gummy worms, aren’t you?”

His smile widened, a flash of the boy I remembered. “What can I say? Some things never change.”

Max chimed in, holding up a bottle of wine. “And I got this. Because, you know, we’re adults now, and adults drink wine.”

I laughed, grateful for Max’s easy humor. “Classy, Max. I’ll make sure to break out the good glasses for that.”

As they settled in, I found myself watching Lando out of the corner of my eye. He seemed more at ease now, joking with Keylon and Max as they unpacked the groceries. But every so often, I’d catch him glancing in my direction, his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he looked away.

“So,” Keylon said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over us. “We’ve got the whole crew coming in tomorrow. You ready for the madness, Y/N?”

I chuckled, though the idea of a full house made me a little nervous. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Who all is coming, again?”

As the conversation flowed, Keylon rattled off the list of names of people who would be arriving tomorrow. “Keegan, Ed, Tom, and Martin Garrix,” he said, ticking them off on his fingers. “Plus, Max’s girlfriend, Pietra, and Lando’s PR girlfriend, Magui.”

Lando, who had been quietly listening, suddenly nudged Keylon with his elbow, a sharp yet playful jab. "Keylon, seriously?" he muttered, giving him a pointed look.

Keylon blinked, looking confused for a moment before realization dawned. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?” he responded with a mischievous grin. “I mean, that’s pretty much what she is, right?”

Lando sighed, shaking his head, though there was a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You could’ve just said girlfriend, you know,” he mumbled under his breath.

I watched the exchange with amusement, unable to resist a chuckle. The playful dynamic between the two of them was something I’d always loved. Despite the years and the fame that had come between them, some things hadn’t changed.

“Don’t worry, Lando,” I teased, trying to ease the tension. “I’m sure she’s more than just your PR girlfriend.”

Lando shot me a grateful look, but I noticed the way his shoulders seemed to relax just a bit. “Thanks, Y/N,” he said, his tone lighter now. “But Keylon’s always been terrible with labels.”

Keylon rolled his eyes dramatically. “You know I’m just messing with you, man. But seriously, she’ll be here tomorrow, so you’d better be ready to play the perfect boyfriend.”

Lando let out a low groan, but there was a spark of humor in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be ready.” But as he glanced at me, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his reluctance than just the teasing.

The mention of Magui’s name sent a tiny jolt through me, but I kept my expression neutral. “Right. Sounds like a full house.”

Max shot me a teasing grin. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll keep the chaos to a minimum.”

“Yeah, right,” I replied with a smirk. “I know better than to trust you guys when it comes to that.”

As we settled into the evening, the house began to fill with the sounds of laughter and the familiar banter between old friends. Keylon and Max were quick to launch into stories about their racing adventures, their voices overlapping as they competed to see who could tell the wildest tale.

I found myself drifting toward the kitchen, needing a moment to breathe. The sight of Lando laughing with my brother warmed my heart, but it also stirred something deeper, something I wasn’t quite ready to face. I busied myself with preparing a quick snack, chopping vegetables and arranging them on a plate, trying to focus on the mundane task.

But I wasn’t alone for long. The sound of footsteps behind me made me pause, and I turned to find Lando leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched me.

“Need some help?” he offered, his voice softer now that we were alone.

I smiled, though my heart was racing. “Sure. You can chop the tomatoes.”

He moved to the counter beside me, and for a few moments, we worked in companionable silence. The tension between us hadn’t disappeared, but it felt less heavy now, more like a comfortable weight that we were both learning to carry.

“So,” he said after a while, his tone casual. “How’s life been treating you?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice light. “Busy. Work is… intense, but I love it.”

“Firefighter and EMS, right?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he glanced at me. “That’s… that’s incredible, Y/N. Seriously.”

His genuine admiration made me smile. “Thanks, Lando. It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I can’t imagine doing something like that. But I’m glad you found something you’re passionate about.”

“What about you?” I asked, turning the conversation back to him. “How’s everything with the racing world?”

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s… good. Busy, as always. But sometimes I miss the simpler times, you know?”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the flicker of something in his eyes—something vulnerable. “Yeah, I get that. Life has a way of getting complicated, doesn’t it?”

He met my gaze, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. “It does. But sometimes, it’s nice to remember the good things, too.”

The unspoken words hung between us, and I felt my breath catch. There was so much we weren’t saying, so much that needed to be said. But before I could find the courage to speak, Keylon’s voice echoed from the living room.

“Y/N, Lando! Get in here! We’re about to start the movie!”

I blinked, the moment broken, and forced a smile. “Guess that’s our cue.”

Lando gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on mine for just a second longer before he turned away. We headed back into the living room, where the others were already sprawled across the couches, the TV flickering as Keylon scrolled through the movie options.

As I settled into my seat, I couldn’t help but glance at Lando, who sat across the room. Our eyes met briefly, and for the first time in years, I wondered what it would be like to let go of the past and embrace whatever was happening between us. But that was a thought for another time. For now, I would enjoy the reunion, the laughter, and the memories, even as the tension simmered beneath the surface.

The following days were a blur of laughter, music, and memories. The house, once quiet, now buzzed with the energy of everyone arriving. Keegan, Ed, and Tom showed up first, quickly turning the living room into a chaotic mess of luggage and snacks. Martin Garrix arrived soon after, bringing with him a playlist of tunes that kept the party vibe alive. Pietra, Max’s girlfriend, fit right in, her infectious smile and friendly nature making her an instant hit with everyone.

And then there was Magui.

She arrived late in the evening, her presence immediately commanding attention. Tall, stunning, and perfectly put together, she walked into the house like she owned it, greeting everyone with a dazzling smile. But when her gaze landed on me, I felt a subtle shift in the air. The warmth she had shown the others cooled slightly, and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she said, “You must be Y/N. Lando’s told me so much about you.”

I forced a smile, sensing the underlying tension. “Nice to meet you, Magui. Welcome to our home.”

She nodded, her expression polite but distant, before turning her attention back to Lando, who had come to greet her. I watched as he wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. But even then, his eyes seemed to flicker toward me, just for a second, as if checking my reaction.

It didn’t take long for Magui to make her presence felt. Throughout the evening, she stayed close to Lando, always positioning herself beside him, touching his arm, his shoulder, making it clear to everyone that he was hers. And Lando, for his part, played the role of the attentive boyfriend, though I couldn’t help but notice the tension in his posture, the way his smiles seemed just a bit forced.

The days were a whirlwind of activities—exploring the nearby town, lounging on the beach, late-night barbecues, and impromptu dance sessions in the living room. There was no shortage of fun, but underneath it all, I could feel the undercurrents of unspoken emotions.

Lando, in particular, seemed to struggle. Whenever Martin Garrix or Keegan would sidle up next to me, their flirtatious banter turning up a notch, I noticed the way Lando’s jaw would clench. His eyes would follow us, and though he never said anything, his quiet, simmering jealousy was palpable. 

One evening, after a long day at the beach, we all gathered around the outdoor fire pit, roasting marshmallows and sipping on cocktails. Keegan, ever the charmer, slid onto the bench beside me, his arm casually draping over the backrest.

“So, Y/N,” Keegan began, his voice playful as he leaned in a little closer. “Tell me, how is it that a beautiful woman like you is still single? Or are you just hiding your boyfriend somewhere?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No boyfriend, Keegan. Just focused on work, I guess.”

“Ah, work. Always getting in the way of fun,” he replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. “Maybe we can change that while you’re here.”

Before I could respond, I noticed Lando stiffen across the fire pit, his gaze fixed on Keegan’s arm resting behind me. Magui, sitting beside him, seemed oblivious to the tension, chatting away with Pietra about some event they’d attended recently.

Martin, who was seated on my other side, chimed in with a chuckle. “Careful, Keegan. Y/N’s got a lot of admirers. You might have some competition.”

Lando’s expression darkened just slightly, and I caught the flicker of frustration in his eyes. He leaned forward, interrupting the conversation. “Y/N’s too smart to fall for your cheesy lines, Keegan.”

Keegan smirked, unfazed. “Maybe, but there’s no harm in trying, right?”

I rolled my eyes playfully, trying to defuse the situation. “Okay, boys, calm down. We’re here to have fun, remember?”

But despite my efforts, the tension lingered, and I couldn’t ignore the way Lando’s gaze kept drifting toward me, a mixture of jealousy and something deeper in his eyes.

As the evening wore on, Magui’s subtle hostility toward me became more apparent. Every time I tried to engage with Lando, she would swoop in, steering the conversation back to herself or pulling him away with some excuse. It was clear that she wasn’t comfortable with my presence, and I couldn’t blame her. After all, the history between Lando and me was something she could sense, even if she didn’t know the full story.

One night, after another long day of exploring and socializing, I found myself alone in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. I was lost in thought when I heard footsteps behind me. Turning around, I saw Magui standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Hey,” I greeted her, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Need something?”

She gave me a tight smile. “No, just wanted to talk. You and Lando… you go way back, huh?”

I nodded, sensing where this was going. “Yeah, we’ve known each other for a long time. Through my brother.”

Magui’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I figured as much. He talks about you sometimes. Fondly, of course.”

I set down the dish I was holding, meeting her gaze directly. “Look, Magui, I’m not trying to cause any problems. I’m just here to spend time with my brother and our friends.”

She studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. “I’m not worried, Y/N. Lando and I have something real. But I just wanted to make sure we’re clear on that.”

I smiled, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Crystal clear.”

She nodded, her smile returning as if the conversation had never happened. “Great. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As she left the kitchen, I let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of her words settle over me. It was clear that whatever was happening between Lando and me wasn’t going unnoticed. And if I wasn’t careful, things could get messy. Very messy.

The tension between Lando and Magui only grew over the next few days. I noticed the little things—how they’d bicker over small details, how Magui would criticize Lando’s behavior around me, and how Lando’s patience seemed to be wearing thin. It was like watching a slow-burning fuse, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded.

It was late, well past midnight, and the house had finally quieted down. After another long day of adventures and late-night antics, everyone had drifted off to bed, leaving the house in peaceful silence. But I couldn’t sleep. My mind was too restless, swirling with everything that had happened over the past few days—the tension with Magui, Lando’s simmering jealousy, the unspoken feelings between us that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

I slipped out of my room and made my way to the pool, hoping the cool night air would help clear my head. The water shimmered under the starlight, and the gentle sound of the waves crashing against the shore in the distance created a soothing background noise. I sat down at the edge of the pool, dipping my feet into the water, and stared up at the stars, letting my thoughts drift.

It wasn’t long before I heard the soft sound of footsteps behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. I could feel his presence even before he spoke.

“Can’t sleep either?” Lando’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he came to stand beside me.

I glanced up at him and shook my head. “No. Just… too much on my mind, I guess.”

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes as he took a seat beside me, dipping his feet into the pool as well. We sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the gentle ripples of the water and the distant waves.

“There’s a lot going on, huh?” he finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid of saying too much.

“Yeah,” I replied quietly, my eyes still fixed on the stars. “More than I expected.”

Lando let out a slow breath, his gaze focused on the water in front of him. “I’m sorry about Magui,” he said after a pause. “She can be… intense. I know she hasn’t exactly been welcoming.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, though the tension between us was impossible to ignore. “I get it. I’m… I’m the past, and she’s your present. It makes sense that she’s protective.”

Lando looked at me then, his eyes searching mine. “Y/N, it’s not that simple.”

I nodded, still staring at the stars, trying to keep my emotions in check. I turned to face him, finally allowing myself to ask the question that had been weighing on me for days. "Lando, this... this thing between us, it's complicated. You’re with Magui, and she’s—"

Lando cut me off with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was about to say something that had been weighing on him for a while. “Y/N, there’s something you should know about Magui and me. Our relationship... it’s not what it seems.”

I turned to look at him, confusion knitting my brows. "What do you mean? You’re together. She’s your girlfriend."

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from mine as if he wasn’t sure how to explain. “Magui and I… it’s not real. I mean, we’re together for the cameras, for the press. It’s a PR relationship—a publicity stunt to boost both of our images.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Wait, what? Keylon wasn’t actually joking? So, you’re not actually...?”

He shook his head, looking almost relieved to finally be telling someone the truth. “No. We’re not in love, we’re not really dating. It’s all for show. The media eats it up, and it helps both of our careers. But behind the scenes... there’s nothing there.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “So, all this time... you’ve been pretending?”

Lando nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. It was easier that way. No complications, no distractions. Just focusing on racing and keeping up appearances. But seeing you again… it’s made me realize that I can’t keep pretending. Not anymore.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, the weight of his confession sinking in. “Lando, that’s... a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his gaze locked on mine. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, but... it’s complicated. Everything’s complicated.”

My mind raced as I tried to make sense of it all. Part of me felt relieved—relieved that Magui wasn’t the deep, meaningful relationship I’d feared. But another part of me felt conflicted, knowing that even if their relationship wasn’t real, it still carried the weight of the public eye, of the world watching every move he made.

“You’re not worried about what happens if people find out?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lando shrugged, a hint of resignation in his expression. “It’s crossed my mind, to be happy when I'm not. Pretending that what I really want isn't standing right in front of me."

His words hung in the air, heavy with truth and vulnerability. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was struggling between what was expected of him and what he truly felt. My heart ached for him, knowing how difficult it must be to live under that kind of pressure, to put on a show for the world while burying his own feelings.

I swallowed hard, the air between us thick with tension. “And Magui?”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, looking conflicted. “She’s… she’s great. Really. But…” He trailed off, his eyes searching mine as if looking for answers.

“But what, Lando?” I pressed gently, needing to know where we stood. “What do you want?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions that I couldn’t quite decipher. Then, without warning, he reached out and took my hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.

“I don’t know if this is right,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. About what could have been… and what might still be.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I looked into his eyes, torn between what I knew was right and what my heart was screaming at me to do. I could feel the pull between us, the undeniable chemistry that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

“Lando…” I began, but he cut me off, his voice urgent.

“Y/N, I’ve tried to move on. I’ve tried to be with someone else, to build something new. But every time I’m with her, I think of you. I think of what we had… what we could have. And I don’t know if I can keep pretending anymore.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with emotion, and I felt my resolve weakening. This was dangerous, and we both knew it. But in that moment, with the stars shining above us and the world quiet around us, it felt like the only thing that mattered was the two of us.

Without thinking, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. The moment our lips met, it was like a spark ignited, a fire that had been smoldering for years finally bursting into flames. The kiss was desperate, filled with all the pent-up emotion and longing that we’d been holding back.

Lando’s hands found their way to my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. My fingers tangled in his hair, and for a moment, it was like nothing else in the world existed but the two of us. The cool night air, the distant waves, the stars above—they all faded away, leaving only the heat between us.

We broke apart for a breath, our foreheads resting against each other as we tried to catch our breath. “This is crazy,” I whispered, though I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.

“Maybe,” Lando murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “But it feels right.”

The tension, the desire, the years of unresolved feelings—it all came crashing down on us, and suddenly, the consequences didn’t matter. Not the fact that he had a girlfriend sleeping inside, not the fact that this could ruin everything. All that mattered was that we were here, together, and we couldn’t stop ourselves.

Before I knew it, we were kissing again, more urgently this time, our hands roaming as we lost ourselves in the moment. The world fell away, and all that was left was us—the feel of his lips on mine, the way his touch sent shivers down my spine, the undeniable connection that had always been there.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and overwhelmed, reality came crashing back. We were still by the pool, still in the middle of a situation that could have serious consequences. I could see the regret flickering in Lando’s eyes, but also something else—something that told me he wasn’t ready to let this go.

“Y/N…” he began, but I shook my head, placing a finger to his lips.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “Not tonight.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of what had just happened settling over us. There were so many things left unsaid, so many questions that still needed answers. But for now, we both knew that this wasn’t the time to face them. There would be consequences to deal with, choices to make, but they would have to wait until morning.

For now, we just sat there by the pool, the night wrapping around us like a blanket, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The passion of the moment had passed, but the connection between us remained, stronger than ever. And as we sat there in the quiet, I couldn’t help but wonder—what would come next?

The next morning, everything felt heavier. The sunlight streaming through the windows seemed too bright, almost accusatory, as if it knew what had happened the night before. My stomach churned with unease as I went about my morning routine, replaying everything over and over in my mind. What had I done? What had we done?

The house was lively, filled with the usual banter and laughter, but I felt disconnected, like an outsider observing from a distance. At breakfast, I sat quietly, picking at my food while the others chattered away. Magui was seated next to Lando, her hand casually resting on his arm as she talked to Keegan. The sight made my chest tighten, guilt gnawing at me. I couldn’t look at her without feeling like I had betrayed some unspoken rule, even though I knew the truth about her and Lando’s relationship.

Lando caught my eye from across the table, his expression serious and searching, but I quickly looked away, unable to meet his gaze. I didn’t want to confront the emotions swirling inside me, didn’t want to acknowledge the turmoil we’d unleashed.

After breakfast, I found an excuse to slip away, retreating to the quiet of the beach. The rhythmic crash of the waves provided some solace, but it couldn’t drown out the thoughts racing in my head. I felt torn in so many directions—caught between what I wanted, what I feared, and what I knew was right.

“Y/N.”

His voice, soft yet urgent, made me freeze. I didn’t turn around. I knew who it was, and I knew what he wanted to talk about. But I wasn’t ready.

“Can we talk?” Lando’s footsteps crunched in the sand as he approached, but I stayed where I was, staring out at the horizon as if it held all the answers.

“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

“Last night,” he said simply. “We need to figure out what happens next.”

I finally turned to face him, and the look in his eyes—so earnest, so determined—made my heart ache. “Lando, last night... it was a mistake.”

He frowned, stepping closer. “A mistake? You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” I insisted, wrapping my arms around myself defensively. “We got caught up in the moment, but it doesn’t change anything. You’re still Lando Norris—famous, in the spotlight—and I’m... well, I’m just me. This world, your world... it’s not mine.”

His frustration was palpable, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Y/N, stop running away from this. From us. You know last night meant something—it wasn’t just a mistake. Don’t try to brush it off like that.”

“I’m not running,” I lied, taking a step back from him. “I’m being realistic. This... whatever this is between us, it can’t work. It’s too complicated, and I don’t want to be the reason things get messy for you.”

“Things are already messy,” he countered, his voice rising slightly. “But I don’t care, Y/N. I don’t care about the complications or the risks. I care about you.”

His words hit me hard, and for a moment, I almost let myself believe him. But the fear, the doubt, was stronger. “Lando, you have a life—a career, a public image to maintain. I’m just a distraction.”

“You’re not a distraction!” he said fiercely, reaching for my hand, but I pulled away before he could touch me. The hurt in his eyes was clear, but I couldn’t let myself get caught up in it.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I won’t be the one to complicate your life even more.”

“Y/N, don’t push me away,” he pleaded, taking another step toward me. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

“Maybe you should,” I shot back, my voice cracking with the effort to hold back tears. “Maybe it’s better for both of us if we just... forget about last night.”

“I can’t forget it,” he said quietly, his tone filled with a desperate honesty. “And neither can you.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all I could hear was the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. He was right. I couldn’t forget. But that didn’t mean I was ready to face the consequences either.

“I need time,” I finally said, my voice trembling. “Time to figure out what this all means.”

Lando looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and frustration, but he nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll give you time. But I’m not giving up on this—on us.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Instead, I turned away and walked down the beach, putting distance between us. Lando didn’t follow, but I could feel his gaze on me, filled with all the things left unsaid.

As I walked, the uncertainty gnawed at me, but one thing was clear—I wasn’t ready to give in to whatever was between us. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

For now, all I could do was keep running.

The days that followed were tense, filled with an unspoken tension that lingered in every interaction. Lando kept his distance, respecting my need for space, but I could feel his eyes on me whenever we were in the same room. It was as if he was waiting for the right moment, waiting for me to stop running.

I spent most of my time avoiding everyone, especially Lando. When the group went out, I stayed behind, claiming I needed rest or had work to catch up on. But the truth was, I didn’t know how to face him—or myself—after everything that had happened. I was caught in a web of my own fears, struggling to untangle the threads of what I felt and what I knew was right.

That night, after days of avoiding everyone and drowning in my own thoughts, I decided to join the group. Maybe it was the loneliness finally getting to me, or maybe I just needed a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me. Whatever it was, I found myself standing in front of the mirror, trying to remember what it felt like to let go and just have fun.

I chose a deep emerald-green dress that hugged my curves in all the right places. The satin fabric shimmered under the soft light of my room, falling just above my knees with a thigh-high slit that added an extra edge to the look. The plunging neckline made a statement, and I decided to forgo any jewelry, letting the simplicity of the dress speak for itself.

My hair was styled in soft locs that cascaded down my back and shoulders, the natural texture adding an effortless elegance to the look. I’d taken the time to weave a few gold accents through the locs, catching the light as I moved and adding a subtle sparkle to the overall style. The locs framed my face perfectly, enhancing the smoky eye makeup that gave my gaze a mysterious allure.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I gave myself a nod. I looked good, and for the first time in a while, I felt good too. Tonight, I wasn’t going to let anything—or anyone—bring me down.

When I walked into the living area where everyone was gathered, the conversations died down, and all eyes turned toward me. Keegan was the first to break the silence with a low whistle, his grin wide and mischievous. “Damn, Y/N! You’re killing it tonight.”

Martin quickly followed with his own whistle, nudging Keegan playfully. “She’s been holding out on us, mate. Didn’t know you had it in you, Y/N.”

I laughed, shaking my head at their antics. “You two are ridiculous.”

But it was Lando’s reaction that caught my attention. He stood frozen in place, his eyes locked on me as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was a mix of emotions playing across his face—surprise, admiration, and something deeper that made my heart skip a beat. For a moment, the world around us seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of us, locked in that intense gaze.

Magui, who had been standing next to Lando, didn’t miss the exchange. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced between us, her grip tightening on Lando’s arm. She quickly masked her irritation with a forced smile, but the bitterness in her voice was unmistakable. “Well, isn’t this a surprise? I didn’t think you’d make it out tonight, Y/N. I suppose it’s good you’re finally joining the fun.”

Her words were laced with sarcasm, and the tension between us crackled in the air. I met her gaze, refusing to back down. “Yeah, I figured it was time to stop hiding and enjoy the night.”

She smirked, tilting her head slightly. “Well, let’s hope you can keep up.”

Before I could respond, Lando finally snapped out of his trance and cleared his throat. “You look amazing, Y/N,” he said, his voice a little too soft, a little too sincere, causing Magui’s glare to sharpen.

“Thanks, Lando,” I replied, giving him a small smile before turning my attention back to the group. “So, are we heading out or what?”

The others quickly rallied, eager to start the night, but the tension lingered in the air. As we made our way out of the house, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was going to change everything, one way or another. And as Lando’s gaze lingered on me, even as Magui tried to pull him closer, I knew he felt it too.

The club was a blur of flashing lights, pulsing music, and bodies moving to the rhythm. It was loud, chaotic, and exactly what I needed to drown out the noise in my head. I let myself get lost in the atmosphere, dancing with Keegan and Martin, laughing at their jokes, and trying to push away the tension that had followed us from the house.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the weight of Lando’s gaze. Even in the crowded room, I could feel him watching me. Every time I turned around, he was there—across the bar, on the edge of the dance floor, always close but never approaching. It was as if he was waiting for the right moment, waiting for me to let my guard down.

Magui, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as subtle. She stayed glued to Lando’s side, her possessive grip on his arm a clear message to anyone who dared to come too close. She danced with him, whispered in his ear, and made sure everyone knew they were together. But it was all so forced, so obviously a performance, that it only added to the tension between them.

At one point, I caught Magui glaring at me from across the room, her eyes full of thinly veiled contempt. She leaned in to say something to Lando, her voice low but her expression unmistakable. He nodded distractedly, his gaze still flicking over to me every few moments. Whatever she said didn’t seem to have the intended effect, because his attention never wavered.

After a while, I needed a break from the dancing, so I made my way to the bar to grab a drink. As I waited for the bartender, I felt someone approach. I turned, half expecting it to be one of the guys, but instead, it was Lando. His presence was electrifying, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Hey,” he said, his voice barely audible over the music. He leaned in closer so I could hear him. “You okay?”

I nodded, taking a sip of my drink to steady my nerves. “Yeah, just needed a breather.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching mine. “You look amazing tonight, Y/N. I mean, you always do, but tonight...”

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice soft, feeling a flutter in my chest. His compliment was sincere, and it only made everything more complicated. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I try.”

We stood there for a moment, the silence between us charged with unspoken words. It felt like there was so much to say, but neither of us knew where to start.

Before I could think of anything to break the tension, Magui appeared at Lando’s side, her smile tight as she slipped her arm through his. “Lando, babe, let’s go dance. We’ve barely had any time together tonight.”

Her voice was sweet, but the look she shot me was anything but. It was clear she wasn’t thrilled about Lando and me talking, and she was making sure I knew it.

Lando hesitated, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

As they walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of something—jealousy, frustration, regret? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that no matter how hard I tried to distance myself, Lando had a way of pulling me back in. And as I watched him dance with Magui, his movements mechanical and his smile forced, I realized that maybe I wasn’t the only one struggling to figure out what came next.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. I danced with the others, laughed at their jokes, and tried to pretend that everything was fine. But the tension between Lando and me remained, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode.

As we left the club and headed back to the house, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over. Lando and I had unfinished business, and sooner or later, we were going to have to face it—whether we were ready or not.

The drive back to the house was quiet, the energy from the club fading into a tense silence. I stared out the window, watching the lights of the city blur into darkness as we left the crowded streets behind. My mind replayed the events of the night, the fleeting moments with Lando, Magui’s possessive glares, the way I’d felt Lando’s eyes on me even when he was dancing with her.

When we finally arrived back at the house, everyone seemed drained. Keegan and Martin stumbled inside, still laughing about something that happened at the club, while Max led Pietra to their room, the two of them whispering softly to each other. Magui, with her usual sharp tone, excused herself and headed to the bedroom she shared with Lando, giving me one last cutting glance before disappearing up the stairs.

Lando lingered behind, standing awkwardly in the doorway as the others dispersed. His gaze flicked to me, and I could see the struggle in his eyes—the internal battle he was fighting. He wanted to talk, to address everything that had been left unsaid between us, but he was trapped in his own confusion, caught between his obligations and what he truly wanted.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give him that chance. The thought of another conversation filled with half-truths and what-ifs left a bitter taste in my mouth. But a part of me—a part that had been buried for years—ached to hear what he had to say. To know if he felt even a fraction of what I was feeling.

“I’m heading to bed,” I said finally, breaking the silence. My voice came out steadier than I expected, even though my heart was pounding in my chest. “Goodnight, Lando.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he just nodded, a look of regret flashing across his face as I turned away.

I made my way upstairs, my footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. As I reached my room, I paused at the door, my hand hovering over the handle. I could still feel Lando’s presence downstairs, the weight of his indecision pressing down on both of us. For a brief moment, I considered turning around, marching back down those stairs, and demanding answers. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not tonight.

I slipped inside my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. The silence was deafening as I kicked off my heels and sank onto the edge of the bed. The night had left me emotionally drained, and all I wanted was to shut my eyes and forget everything. But sleep didn’t come easily.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours—I couldn’t tell. The house was eerily still, and the only sound was the occasional rustle of the wind outside. I was finally starting to drift off when I heard it—a soft knock on my door. My heart lurched, and I held my breath, hoping it was just my imagination playing tricks on me.

But then it came again, louder this time.

I hesitated, my mind racing. Who could it be?

Another knock, more insistent now, followed by a whispered, “Y/N, it’s me.”

Lando.

My pulse quickened, and I found myself frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted to ignore him, to let him stand out there and grapple with whatever he needed to say. But another part of me—the part that had always struggled to keep my distance from him—couldn’t resist.

Slowly, I stood up and made my way to the door. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle, and I hesitated for just a moment longer before finally opening it.

Lando stood there, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. His usual confidence seemed to have abandoned him, leaving behind a rawness that I wasn’t used to seeing. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with everything we hadn’t said.

“Y/N, I can’t keep doing this,” he said finally, his voice low and hoarse. “I can’t keep pretending that I don’t—”

“Lando,” I interrupted, my own voice barely a whisper. “We can’t. It’s too complicated.”

“I know it is,” he replied, stepping closer, his eyes searching mine. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I’ve tried to push it away, to ignore it, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt the walls I’d built around my heart start to crumble. But I couldn’t let myself fall into this trap again. Not when so much was at stake.

“Lando, you have a girlfriend,” I reminded him, my voice shaking slightly. “And she’s right down the hall.”

He flinched, guilt flickering in his eyes. “It’s not real, Y/N. You know that. It’s just for show, for the cameras. But what I feel for you... that’s real. It always has been.”

His confession hung in the air between us, heavy and dangerous. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. Every instinct screamed at me to shut the door, to end this conversation before it went too far. But instead, I found myself drawn to him, unable to tear my gaze away.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

His expression softened, and he reached out, gently taking my hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to revel in the feeling.

“Then let me prove it to you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Just... don’t shut me out, Y/N. Not again.”

I stared at him, torn between the intense connection we shared and the voice of reason that told me this was a terrible idea. The past had taught me how easily things could fall apart, how quickly emotions could become entangled in a mess of hurt and betrayal.

But as I stood there, on the precipice of something that could either destroy us or finally bring us together, I knew one thing for certain—I couldn’t run from this forever.

“Okay,” I whispered, barely able to believe the word had left my lips. “But no more games, Lando. This has to be real.”

His eyes lit up with hope, and he nodded, squeezing my hand. “No more games. I promise.”

And just as I started to let my guard down, just as I began to believe that maybe, just maybe, we could make this work, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. Both of us froze, and my heart dropped as the door at the end of the hall creaked open.

Magui’s voice, sharp and cutting, sliced through the silence. “Lando? What the hell is going on?”

Our eyes met, panic flashing between us. The moment of truth had come, and there was no turning back now.

__________________________________

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[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 16 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - Spencer confronts Daisy over her behaviour and a fight ensues. JJ and Maeve help him to navigate the intricacies of life as a teenage girl.

A/N - Spencer loses his cool with Daisy in this chapter. He is still learning, please bear with him. He’s getting there.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - more use of the term “bitch”, arguing, angry Spencer, angry Daisy, lots of talk of puberty and periods, talk of therapy and antidepressants.

WC - 5.2k

Chapter 16 - My Little Girl

When you were in trouble, that crooked little smile could melt my heart of stone.

Now look at you, I've turned around and you've almost grown.

Sometimes when you're asleep I whisper "I love you" in the moonlight at your door.

As I walk away, I hear you say, "Daddy, love you more”.

Spencer was so angry he couldn’t even speak the entire drive home. He let Lily ride up front because she was too scared to sit next to her sister. She held Taco in her arms, nuzzling her face into his fur. 

When they arrived home he carried his youngest up to bed, read her a story and kissed her goodnight. Taco stayed with her, curled up under her arm. 

When he padded back downstairs he hoped Daisy would be smart enough to have put herself to bed. But he was proven wrong when he found her awkwardly sitting in the living room. 

He didn’t look at her as he continued to the kitchen, wishing more than anything right now that he could have a drink. He grabbed a glass and poured himself some water, leaning up at the counter and staring out into the dark yard. 

He heard her footsteps getting closer and he braced himself against the counter, not wanting to turn around and face his eldest daughter.

“Dad?” Daisy’s voice was low and croaky and held a hint of fear to it. 

His nostrils flared and he sipped the water in the hopes of helping calm himself.

“Don’t.” He replied without turning around. “Just don’t. Go to bed Daisy, we’ll discuss this in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Daisy continued regardless. 

Spencer’s back stiffened and he placed the glass down on the counter louder than he’d meant to. 

“Go to bed.” He repeated, not even trying to hide his annoyance from his voice. 

“I don’t want to.” She pouted and he could hear the dejection in her voice.

He exhaled noisily through his nose before he finally turned around and glared at her. She stood on the other side of the kitchen island with her arms wrapped around her body. Her bottom lip quivered and her large blue eyes watered. 

“Daisy, I don't particularly care what you want to do. I am your father and I am telling you to go to bed.” His voice was husky, the anger not very well hidden. 

Daisy’s eyes somehow widened, she’d never heard him like this before. 

“I’m sorry.” She sniffed. “I’m really sorry but she was being a brat!” 

“She is seven years old!” Spencer snapped, raising his voice and slamming his palms on the marbled island. “You are double her age, you should know better. If she’s annoying you, you walk away Daisy. There is no excuse for pushing her or calling her a bit…that word.” 

“Oh you mean that word you call mom? Even Lily’s heard you call her a bitch.” Daisy scoffed, her previous sadness seemingly vanishing. 

“I am an adult, I’m allowed to use that word. And I’d appreciate it if you and your sister would stop eavesdropping when I’m on the phone.” He shook his head in frustration. 

“Mom is a bitch! And so is Lily.” 

“Daisy,” he spat so harshly he saw her back go rigid and her arms fell to her sides. “You will not, I repeat, you will not use that kind of language while you live under my roof. Especially towards your mother and sister.” 

“Jeez dad, it's not even that bad of a word. I know way worse.” She clucked. 

“Daisy, you do not want to test me tonight.” He growled. “Go to bed and wake up with a better attitude. Tomorrow you will apologise to your sister and you are grounded and have no phone privileges for two weeks.” 

“What! No way! You aren’t taking my phone.” 

“Watch me.” He spat, rounding the counter and coming closer to her. 

She whined and tried to move away while he reached inside her jacket pocket and pulled her phone out. 

“That’s not fair.” She huffed, watching him stuff the device in his own pocket. 

“Life isn’t.”

“How am I supposed to text Cameron now?” 

“You aren’t! That’s the point.” He rolled his eyes.

His temples started to throb, an incoming headache. That was just what he needed.

“So I met a boy I like and I can’t talk to him but meanwhile you can date half of goddamn Virginia?” She yelled at the top of her lungs.

“Excuse me?” Spencer’s eyes bulged at his daughter’s words. 

“Oh please, you think we don’t know about you and Cam’s mom?” Daisy scoffed. “Seriously, do you just date anyone now?” 

“Bed. Or I swear to god Daisy…” he didn’t exactly have an end to that sentence so he trailed off, feeling the ache in his head rapidly growing. 

“What? What will you do dad? Send me to live with mom?” She rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest again. 

“Well that’s the best damn idea I’ve heard all night.” He bit back. “Maybe I will.” 

Of course it was just an empty threat, he would never actually send Daisy to live with her mother but he thought maybe it would be enough of a scare to stop her behaving like this. 

“You would not.” She huffed. 

“Maybe she can knock some sense into you. I don’t recognise you right now Daisy. I don’t know who you are becoming. But it’s not my little girl.” He turned his back on her, leaning up against the sink again. 

“You’re right, I’m not your little girl. I’m not your pumpkin anymore dad. I’m fourteen years old, I’m not a little kid like Lily.” She yelled but he refused to rise to it anymore for fear of what he may say. 

“Go to bed, Daisy.” He sighed. 

“No.” She stamped her foot in defiance. 

“You know what, fine.” He turned back around with a shrug. “Do what you want. I’m too exhausted to fight with you.” 

He moved past her into the hall and started up the stairs. Daisy watched him go, feeling downtrodden. 

“Dad, I-”

“Please,” he cut her off, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t push me, kid.” 

Daisy let him go, her eyes watering a little. She’d wanted to get a reaction out of him and that’s certainly what she’d gotten. But she didn’t feel good about it. 

She heard his bedroom door close and she quietly crept upstairs to her own room. She fell to the bed and pulled her knees up to her chin before she started to cry. 

***

The tension in the Reid household the following morning was enough to make anyone want to drink. 

Lily wasn’t talking to Daisy and in return Daisy wouldn’t talk to Lily. Daisy tried to talk to Spencer but Spencer barely replied. 

It was Saturday and they were supposed to be going to a BBQ at Rossi’s but Spencer was in no mood and Daisy was grounded so she wasn’t going anywhere. 

He’d called JJ to let her know and she’d offered to take Lily with them to the BBQ. Thinking it might be easier if the girls spent a little time apart, he agreed. 

Around midday JJ, Will and the boys arrived to pick her up. Will took her hand and helped into the back of the car. Lily beamed brightly as she slid in next to Michael and the two quickly started chatting to one another, whilst Henry tried to ignore them. 

Spencer stepped out onto the porch and closed the front door behind him. 

“I’ve never known you ground the kids.” JJ frowned lightly. 

“I’ve never needed to. She was…I didn’t recognise her JJ. I hate this teenage crap. One minute I’m her best friend and the next she hates me.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know how to raise a teenager.” 

“When Daisy was born you knew nothing about looking after a baby.” She reminded him. 

“But I had Maeve.” 

“Fine, but you’ve been basically on your own with them for over a year and you’ve been doing just fine.” 

“Is Henry like this? Or is it just a girl thing?” He ignored her. 

“My answer is not going to make you feel any better.” She shrugged. 

“So it’s a girl thing.” He rolled his eyes. 

“He’s moody sometimes, but I guess on the whole he’s pretty good.” 

“I’m in over my head, Jennifer. I don’t know if I can do this on my own.” 

“Yes you can.” She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You can because you have to. She’s going through a lot, Spence. You remember how hard puberty was right? Well guess what? It’s twice as hard for girls. Her body is changing, in crazy kinds of ways, I imagine she’s starting her period, or at the very least will be soon. She’s noticing boys and she’s having all these new feelings. I’m afraid you need to cut her some slack.” 

Spencer frowned, leaning back up against the wall.

“A little while ago sanitary products started appearing in my bathroom. I assume Maeve gave them to her. Do you think she talks to Maeve about that stuff? It’s never really occurred to me before.” 

“I guess so, but Maeve’s the one you’d need to speak to.” 

“Boys would have been easier.” He whined. 

“You’ll be fine, Spence.” She chuckled lightly. “Just cut her some slack, ok? And talk to Maeve.” 

“My favourite activity.” He rolled his eyes as JJ started down the stairs. 

“I’ll see you later.” She smiled, offering him a wave.

He waved back before doing the same to Lily who was waving at him from the back seat of the car. He waited until the car pulled away before trudging back into the house. 

He went straight up to his office, ignoring the music blasting from Daisy’s room. He shut himself inside and started up his computer. He put his phone on the desk, looking down at it as the computer booted up, contemplating JJ’s words about speaking to Maeve. 

He stared at the blank screen before shaking his head and turning back to the computer. It could wait. 

He opened his emails and sifted through a few before he came across one sent a few hours ago from Doctor Maria Sanchez. His stomach coiled into knots as he opened it. 

Dear Doctor Reid, 

Thank you for completing our pre therapy questionnaire. I would like to arrange a call with you to discuss your therapy needs further. I have free office hours Monday to Friday between the hours of 16:30 and 18:30. Please let me know the best time and day for you and we can schedule a call.

Regards,

Doctor Maria Sanchez

He read it over a couple of times, nodding his head whilst he did so. He replied to let her know he was available any day between those times. He looked through a few other emails before turning his attention back to his phone. 

It really wouldn’t be a difficult feat for him to call his ex-wife, all he needed to do was unlock the device and find her contact. But in practice it was proving a lot harder than it needed to be. 

He stared at the phone for almost ten minutes, before out of nowhere it started to ring, startling him so much he actually jumped a little in his chair. 

And the strangest part was the name on the screen.

He swallowed thickly and picked up the phone, placing it to his ear.

“Maeve, hi.” He frowned to himself. “I was actually just thinking of calling you.”

“You were?” Her confusion was evident in her voice. 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I kind of got into it with Daisy last night. Luke and Garcia were sitting the girls and I had to pick them up early because Daisy shoved Lily and called her a bitch repeatedly.” 

“Oh, that doesn’t sound like Daisy.” 

“I know. When we got home she just kept pushing my buttons and we fought, I’ve never fought with her like that before.” He sighed yet again. “But I spoke to JJ and she…uh, she thinks I need to talk to you.” 

“What about?” Maeve sounded sceptical. 

“Puberty in teenage girls.” He cringed at his own words.

“Ah,” Maeve’s voice had a hint of amusement to it.

“A few months back I started noticing boxes of sanitary products in the bathroom. Should I have talked to her about it? Is that what a dad is supposed to do?” 

“She came to me,” Maeve smiled down the phone. “I think I’ve got it covered since I’ve been there.”

“Right.” Spencer nodded. “And all those other female hormone things? The changes? It’s not all dissimilar to male puberty but there are certainly some variations.” 

“We’ve been through it, Spence, don’t worry. I know you like to think of yourself as a lone wolf but I am still her mother. Puberty is hard for anyone, I guess she’s acting out because of it. I know I gave my dad hell when I was her age.” 

“Super,” he sighed. “Do I talk to her about it? Would that help?”

“I think that would do more harm than good. Trust me when I say a girl does not want to talk to her father about her period or growing breasts.” 

“Oh jeez, I don’t even like hearing it coming from you.” Spencer groaned. “Boys, we should have had boys.” 

Maeve started to laugh, a real easy laugh. It may well have been the first time he’d heard that laugh from her since they broke up. And to both of their surprise, Spencer started to laugh too. 

“Whether we’re together or not Spencer, you have to remember we are still a team. I can cover those kinds of things, while you can stick to the educational stuff.” 

“Sounds good to me.” He agreed, feeling oddly at ease talking to her. “Sorry, you called me and I kind of accosted the conversation.” 

“It’s ok.” Maeve was still smiling, he could hear it in her voice. “I wanted to ask a favour actually.” 

“A favour?” He sat forward, eyebrows knitting together.

“Kind of.” She paused briefly. “Bobby and I were going to go out to California in the next few weeks to visit my family and I really wanted to take the girls. We were only going to go for a week, but if you already have plans with them or you just don’t want me to take them then that’s fine.” 

“Yes,” he was quick to answer. “Yes, I think you should most definitely do that.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes,” he repeated. “I haven’t always been fair to you but I think spending the week with you, going to California, would be great for the girls. I think it sounds like a wonderful idea actually.” 

There was a long stretch of silence and for a moment Spencer thought she had hung up. 

“I’m sorry, I think I must have dialled the wrong number. I’m trying to get hold of my cranky ex-husband Spencer Reid?” She teased, making Spencer roll his eyes.

“Don’t push your luck.” He smiled to himself. “Take the win, Maeve.” 

“You’re sure you are ok with this? Because I don’t want to book the flights and then have you change your mind.” 

“I’m sure. I swear I won’t change my mind.” 

“Thank you Spencer. That really means a lot to me.” 

“Please don’t get sappy.” He rolled his eyes and Maeve laughed.

“Ah there he is. That’s the Spencer I know.” She giggled. 

“I’m hanging up now.” He scoffed. 

“Bye Spencer.”

“Bye Maeve.” 

He hung up the phone and for the first time in over a year, Spencer didn’t feel weighed down after talking to his ex-wife. 

If anything he actually felt lighter. 

***

The next week went by without much of an incident. His house sale was moving, albeit slowly and Daisy being grounded meant he didn’t leave the house much, giving him time to start packing up his home. 

Luke came by twice to carry out more training with Taco and the girls enjoyed having him around. On Thursday he stayed for dinner but while Spencer was cooking his phone rang. 

Luke waved him off, telling him he couldn’t finish up with the preparations and Spencer went up to his office to take the phone call. 

He was gone for almost a half hour and when he returned he looked exhausted. Luke didn’t mention as much in front of the girls. 

They ate and it was up to Luke and Lily to carry the conversation as Daisy still wasn’t speaking to her dad and Spencer’s mystery phone call had clearly thrown him through a loop. 

After dinner the adults did the dishes while Daisy and Lily watched TV in the living room. Luke was eyeing Spencer curiously.

“So, who was the call from? You’ve been really quiet ever since.” He leaned against the counter while drying a plate.

“A therapist. My therapist I guess I should say.” Spencer sighed. 

“You’re seeing a therapist? I didn’t know.” 

“I haven’t yet. My first appointment is next week. The doctor just wanted to have a talk, she thinks I might benefit from medication.” 

“Antidepressants?” 

“Yeah,” Spencer nodded. “I thought I had a handle on everything, but taking medication seems like admitting that I don’t.” 

“It’s ok not to have a handle on everything, Spencer.” Luke moved closer to him, placing the plate on the draining board. “You have two kids, one of whom is a teenager. You’re a single, working dad, you’ve been trying to put yourself back out there and that’s not easy at the best of times. Sometimes asking for help is the bravest thing you can possibly do.” 

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” He nodded. “I’m contemplating…just contemplating, nothing has been decided yet, but the idea crossed my mind that maybe I might consider having mine and Maeve’s custody conditions reevaluated.” 

“Reevaluated?” Luke cocked an eyebrow. “As in…?”

“Joint custody. Equal time with the kids.” He chewed on his lip.

“Wow,” Luke didn’t hide his surprise. “Wow, that’s huge.”

“It’s just an idea. I haven’t decided on anything. But it would make my life a hell of a lot easier if I allowed myself to lean on Maeve a little more. I forget what an amazing mom she is sometimes. And I’m no superman, I can’t keep shouldering everything myself.” He pushed his hair back off of his face.

“You sure you haven’t been to therapy already? Because you sound like a man who has been going to therapy.” Luke chuckled. 

“I’m trying to broaden my horizons.” He rolled his eyes as Luke nudged him in the arm. 

“I’m proud of you, man.”

“Oh stop.” Spencer scowled. “Can we talk about something else?” 

“Sure,” Luke picked up another dish and started drying it. “How are things with Blair?” 

“We had one date,” Spencer shrugged. “I haven’t had a chance to see her since. We spoke on the phone once but we’ve both been busy. The girls are going to California with Maeve next week so maybe I’ll see her then.” 

“Hmm empty house and the girls will be out of state so they couldn’t possibly cock block you this time.” Luke suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. 

“I believe it was technically you who cock blocked me, as you so eloquently put it.” 

“It was either that or let your daughters kill each other.” Luke shrugged. “What’s up? You don’t seem all that excited about this woman.” 

Spencer grumbled under his breath, sometimes wishing his friends didn’t know him so well. 

“She’s great, really. Beautiful, funny, smart. She’s a single mom with a bad history with his her ex, she gets me in a way no one else ever has.”

“But?” Luke cocked his eyebrow curiously. 

“But she’s not Y/N.” Spencer shrugged. “I feel like I’m trying to force a relationship with Blair to help me get over Y/N but it’s having the opposite effect.” 

“Don’t be the asshole that uses a nice woman to deflect feelings from another.” 

“I’m trying. I think I could really like her.” Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth. “And is it so wrong that I’d really like to get laid?” 

Luke chuckled, shaking his head and slapping Spencer across the arm. 

“You are human after all.” Luke winked at him as he finished up the dishes. 

Spencer rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help but chuckle. 

***

He knocked tentatively on the door and waited for a response. He didn’t receive one. He knocked again and still didn’t get a reply so he pushed the door open. 

Luke had left a little while ago and Lily was in bed. Spencer had been trying to read in his office but he couldn’t focus on the pages. 

He’d stood outside of Daisy’s room for ten minutes before he finally knocked. 

He found her sitting on her bed with her legs crossed, a book cradled in her lap. When he entered she closed the book but she didn’t speak. 

“Can we talk? I’m kind of sick of this silent treatment now.” He asked and she simply nodded. He moved across the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Can we call a truce? I miss talking to my favourite girl.” 

Daisy rolled her lip between her teeth in contemplation and shrugged her shoulders. 

“I’m sorry about our fight ok? But you can’t treat your sister that way. You can’t treat me that way. Look I know I am the last person you want to be talking to about this but it recently occurred to me that you are going through a lot of…changes.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Gross dad, don’t.” Daisy pulled a face. 

“Your hormones are going crazy and you’re-”

“I beg of you to stop, please.” She cut him off. “I have mom to talk to about that stuff.” 

“All I’m saying is I understand.” He placed his hand on her knee. “Believe it or not I was a teenager too once. Puberty sucks. Most of all for me. I was so much younger than everyone in school and I didn’t understand why all the boys' voices were getting deeper and why they were growing hair in places I wasn’t.”

“Ew.” Daisy wrinkled her nose. “I do not need that image in my head.” 

“I was talking about my armpits and my legs.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “And I didn’t have a dad to talk to about any of it. And I could never talk to my mom because she was barely lucid. I didn’t understand why I was so different. When my voice did start to break I was so confused. I just need you to know that you can talk to me if you want to. Obviously I’m a man and I don’t quite understand everything you’re going through but I can try.” 

Daisy looked away from him, still chewing on her lip rather aggressively. 

“I get these…cramps when I’m…you know. Really bad sometimes and I don’t know how to stop them.” She was blushing and refusing to look at him.

“Ok, well exercise can help that, which I know doesn’t sound ideal but even a brisk walk can help release endorphins which change the way the brain processes pain and can make the pain feel less intense. We can get you a hot water bottle, that will help increase blood flow which in turn loosens the muscles that are contracting and will relieve pain. Warm baths can help relax your muscles too.” He started spouting off. “Will you tell me next time you’re in pain? I can help.”

“Ok.” She nodded. 

“And if you need any products or anything you don’t need to get your mom to buy them. You’ll tell me if you need anything?” 

“Sure.” She nodded, looking back up at him. “There is one thing I need.” 

“What is it, pumpkin?” He squeezed her knee encouragingly. 

“You mentioned hair growing…” her cheeks reddened and she slowly rolled up her pants leg revealing some little blonde fluffy hairs growing on her shin. “I only noticed it recently, when we were at the pool I heard some girl mention it. I don’t think Cam noticed but I’d be mortified if he did.” 

“I will buy some razors next time we go to the grocery store.” He smiled gently at her. 

“I might need you to show me how.” Her cheeks flushed a darker shade. 

“I mean I don’t have much experience shaving legs but I’m pretty well versed in shaving my face so I’m sure we can figure it out together.” He chuckled. 

“Thanks dad.” She suddenly threw herself into his arms and he caught her with ease, wrapping her tightly in his embrace. 

“You’re welcome, pumpkin.” He kissed the top of her head. 

“And I’m sorry I was a…B word.” 

“You weren’t a B word. You were a little rude and next time you talk to me like that you will never see this again.” He pulled back so he could retrieve her cell phone from his pocket before handing it to her. 

She stared down at the device, a large smile blossoming on her face. 

“Thank you, dad!” She grinned, clutching the phone like it was a stuffed toy. 

“It does come with a condition.” 

“What?” She frowned at him. 

“You’re going to California with your mom and Bobby. You leave Friday for a week.” 

“A week? With mom?” She whined. 

“You’ll have a good time. You’ll get to see grandma and grandpa.” He nudged her in the arm. 

“You’re cruel.” She pouted. 

“And I’m also your father so what I say goes.” He shrugged. “You’ll have fun. You can go to the beach. You like the beach.” 

“Can I see Cam before I go?” She continued to pout. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” He pushed himself up from the bed. “Daisy, you said something the other night and it kinda stuck with me.”

“I’m sure I didn’t mean it.” She was already plugging her phone in to charge. 

“But you said it and it’s been bothering me.” He sighed. “Do you have a problem with me dating? Because if you do, I don’t have to.” 

“I want you to be happy.” She shrugged. “But I don’t think Cam’s mom makes you happy. Y/N did. What happened to her?” 

“You’re too young for me to answer that.” He pulled a face.

“Gross. For the record I will never be old enough to hear about your sex life.” 

“Daisy!” He gasped. “That is not what I was getting at. Jeez, I miss the days before you could talk.” 

“No you don’t.” She giggled. 

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” He chuckled. 

“Love you dad.”

“Love you too, pumpkin.” 

***

“Thanks again for doing this, you really didn’t need to take the afternoon off of work.” Spencer spoke as he ushered Daisy and Lily inside the cute single story Virginia home. 

“Oh you know how it is. When the man you’ve been on one date with calls you up and asks you to look after his kids for the afternoon, I just couldn’t say no.” Blair smirked at him. 

“Is it super weird that I called?” He pulled a face. 

“It would have been less weird if you’d called more than once since our date or maybe even asked me out again. But it’s fine.” She shrugged. 

“I have every intention of asking you out again. My ex is taking the girls to California on Friday for a week and my schedule is wide open.” He smiled at her. 

“I’ll see if I can fit you into mine.” She smirked again. “So what is this emergency?” 

“Work thing.” He waved her off. “My friends are all FBI Agents and they’re away on a case, otherwise I would have asked one of them to watch the girls.” 

“Your friends are FBI Agents?” She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, did I not mention I’m ex-FBI?”

“You did not.” 

“I’ll tell you all about it on our next date ok? But I’ve really got to go. I shouldn’t be long.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek before he was quickly dashing back down the path, calling back over his shoulder, “be good girls, I won’t be long!” 

The last thing he’d wanted to do was bother Blair with this but with the BAU team away and Maeve and Bobby both at work he didn’t know who else to ask. 

He’d tried to move his first therapy appointment until next week after the girls left for the west coast but Doctor Sanchez’s books were full, she’d only gotten him in so soon because Tara had said something no doubt. 

He was incredibly nervous as he drove across town to her office, not knowing what to expect if he was honest. 

Before long he found himself being introduced to a middle aged woman with dark eyes and hair that was greying around the roots. 

She led him in and offered him a seat on the couch while she sat in a chair opposite him.

“It’s nice to meet you Doctor Reid.” Doctor Sanchez smiled at him. 

“Call me Spencer,” he threaded his fingers together in his lap. 

“Ok Spencer,” she mirrored his position, maybe to try and put him at ease. “So I would like to start by asking what brought you to therapy.” 

That was a loaded question. 

Spencer exhaled, eyebrows knitting together as he focused on what he wanted to say. 

“Well, my wife and I split up about a year ago. She was having an affair for a long time. It’s only been recently that I’ve started to let myself express my own feelings over the divorce. I have two girls and my main priority was protecting them from everything. I tried to start dating and in the process my residual feelings towards my wife kinda came to the surface.” He exhaled again.

“Ok that’s a good start,” she smiled encouragingly. “Let’s start from the beginning. When you and your ex-wife first met. What was that like?” 

“Uh…she was a one night stand.” He toyed with his hands. “Or I mean, she was supposed to be. She got pregnant with Daisy, my eldest, she’s fourteen. Maeve and I got married before we had a chance to fall in love.” 

“I see,” Sanchez nodded. “And you were married for…?”

“Thirteen years.” 

“A long time.”

“I suppose so.” He was chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek. 

“So you said you’ve only recently allowed yourself to feel the weight of her affair?” 

“Yeah. I told everyone, including myself, that I was ok because I was never really in love with her. I tried to pretend I was just angry that she hurt our daughter’s. But I did love her. And I guess I’m finding it hard to reconcile how I can still be in love with someone who hurt me so much. And also how I can be in love with someone else at the same time.” He frowned, looking down at his hands. 

This was going to be a long and bumpy road, he knew that much to be true. But he was at the very least trying. 

And sometimes that’s all we can do. 

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove

[toska-writes]

Clones as random things me and my friends/family have said!

A fic will be out soon I promise!

Fives: “It ends with e, but not the letter the sound.”

Fox: “I’ve been abused a lot” *Nervous laughter* “I’m only partly kidding”

Hardcase: “I dont like the normal pedophiles, I Iike the magic ones. They’re more fun.”

Wolffe: “I’m gonna bark at this kid on the speeder,” *starts barking* “Oh my god that is not a kid.”

Hunter: “I made a mistake”

Wrecker: “There’s steak??”

Rex: *501st doing something stupid* “Im gonna lose all 7 of my marbles if you don’t stop”

Cody: “just because I find a man attractive dosent mean I’m gay” *is definitely gay*

Tech: “Stupid questions get stupid answers.”

Bly: “I cry at least once a year.”

Fox: “I cry every night sooooo….”

Waxer: You’re drinking straight milk?

Boil: *holding two glasses of milk* No the milk just came out as gay

Crosshair: “We probably shouldn’t do that Tech has asthma…….. wait no it’s allergies”

Wolffe: “If I rolled my eyes any harder, I’d go blind.”

Jesse: “I guess his spider senses didn’t kick in” *talking about JFK*

Fives: “No flash photography Echo” *Scolding tone*

Echo: “DiD yOu SeE a FlAsH”

Gregor: *doing finger guns* “Don’t worry this is a squirt gun”

Hardcase: *Shouting in a public place* “My underwear are too big and they’re pulling my pants down!”

Droidbait: “I just wanna play wrestle”

Hevy: *Cracking fingers* “You don’t play wrestle, you wrestle wrestle”

Cody: *talking about Crys* “He’s like the weakest breed of human being, he doesn’t have a middle name and he has scoliosis. Way to double down.”

_____________________________________

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @ct-0113

[untaemedqueen]

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 9.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: Making Out, Pet Names, Praise, Jeongguk Has A Tongue Ring, Daddy Kink, Cunnilingus, Big Dick!Jeongguk, Begging, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie

By the time you got home from the long night of social interactions with people who count money like sheep, it was just simply too dark to drive further from your mansion to take Jeongguk back home to his apartment.

It's not that you couldn't drive but then the rainstorm began and it wouldn't be safe with the slippery roads.

So now as it strikes one in the morning Jeon Jeongguk is paralyzed with fear to even be in your mansion at such a late hour.

"So where am I even supposed to sleep?" he inquires softly.

He sounds almost like a lost, scared child looking for his parents.

And you would feel bad for him if it wasn't hilarious and he wasn't almost thirty years old.

"Well none of the guest rooms have furniture so either on the couch that's harder than a rock or in my bed. Your choice, really," you reply, pulling your gloves slowly off your arms.

He opens his mouth to respond before tilting his head to look at the artistic couch down below the banister of the second floor, his eyebrows notch and he groans long and low at the prospect.

"I can't sleep in your bed! I'd be violating your privacy!" he guffaws, shaking his head sternly as if to wipe away any bad thoughts.

"Guk, the bed is from wall to wall. You don't have to sleep on top of me. You'll fall asleep and won't even remember a thing," you promise, unzipping the back of your dress and stepping into your closet.

"But…But… Why don't you have any furniture in your rooms anyway?!"

He sounds nervous and anxious, a sign that just screams to you that he might actually enjoy it if he just allows himself to.

When his eyes rake over the smooth skin of your back, the wildest of thoughts flit through his brain and he really loses all sense of self then.

"Because I don't want people staying over… duh," you chirp, stripping out of your dress.

"But I'm an exception?! You have no backbone!" Jeongguk scoffs, folding his arms childishly.

When he notices that he can catch the reflection of you getting naked in one of the glass doors that house your couture gowns, he wrestles with himself for a moment before turning to face the large fish tank at the end of the long hall.

"You sound embarrassed," you tease, grabbing your nightgown.

When you slip it over your head, your eye catches your shortest nightgown and you freeze.

You haven't had fun in a long time, probably longer than what most doctors would consider to be normal. So maybe tonight, just tonight, you'll have some fun.

"I'm not embarrassed! I could sleep next to you just fine! I just-just… It's not right! It'd be taking advantage!"

"It's not taking advantage," you counter, stepping outside of your closet, "and if you feel that way then you could sleep on the floor."

"I'm not gonna sleep on the floor! It's marbl-"

Jeongguk stops mid-sentence to choke on his own spit as you step in front of him. Your nightgown is incredibly short, the rich lace hem landing right below the curve of your ass. As for your breasts, well, he's lucky your nipples are covered.

With his eyes widening to the size of saucers, he opts to staring up at the ceiling.

"I think you're a baby," you tease, heading off towards your bedroom.

With every step you take, his eyes seem to become grounded more and more until they're watching your hips sway with criminal intent towards the room that has brought this panic on to begin with.

"Change," he begs, his voice sounding weak.

If his body did what it wanted without the help of his brain, he'd be crashing to his knees and crawling toward you begging to let him have any inch of you that you'd offer him.

"No, you're a baby," you giggle, entering your room.

"But-"

"Guk, it's just sleep. It's almost two in the morning. I'm exhausted. You can either sleep with me or on the floor, it's up to you but I'm laying down now."

The handsome escort makes his second fatal mistake by watching you crawl into bed. Your breasts sway and you look at him with these doe-like eyes that make his legs go weak.

Luckily, he's holding himself upright as he leans against the doorjamb.

"I'm not staring at you all night as you loom over me in the distance like some kind of fever dream monster or something," you sigh, laying down on your side and putting your arm beneath your pillow for comfort.

"God!" the handsome man complains, walking over to the bed beside you.

He begins to strip off his clothes, revealing more and more of his golden toned skin that sings with black and grey ink.

He's staring at you hoping you don't stare at him but you do. Your eyes are becoming less and less dead by the second, every time a new ab is revealed your head is even lifting up off of the pillow.

"I thought you were tired?" Guk chuckles.

Now it's your turn to get defensive.

"I am! I'm not looking at you!" you retort, turning away from him with pinched eyebrows.

Now he's got his confidence back.

When you're flustered it's easier for him to play around, he's not used to being flustered himself.

"Come on, baby," he purrs playfully, crawling into bed behind you and pressing his bare chest to your back, "kiss me."

"God! Go sleep on the floor!" you hiss, squeezing your eyes shut and shimmying down the bed away from him.

His chuckle is deep and delighted, almost carefree to the point of dangerousness.

"That…" he begins, wrapping his arm around your stomach and pressing his lips to your ear, "would be uncomfortable. You were right, it's just sleep. I can stay the night in bed with you."

His cologne is still pleasant and it tickles your senses to have him so close.

Guk's arm is warm and comforting around you, not so much claustrophobic as you would have assumed.

The air is turning into something tumultuous, something powerful and Earth shatteringly dangerous.

You're getting turned on.

You can feel every inch of his hard muscled chest and stomach digging into your scantily clad back and the escort is doing nothing to stop it.

"I'm not paying you for this," you remind him, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it to your front for comfort.

"You're not paying me at all, Y/N," he counters, closing his eyes, "If you want me to stop, just say so. I respect that no means no."

But you don't utter a word.

Jeongguk shifts closer, allowing you to feel the effect you have on him.

The globes of your ass are supple against his hips and you can feel his erection digging into you for relief.

Your lips open in surprise but you only squeeze your eyes tighter.

"You don't fuck clients," you whisper, gripping the pillow against your chest harder.

"No," he agrees, drifting his lips over the shell of your ear slowly, "you're not paying me, you're not my client, baby."

Jeongguk fucking wants this. He's throwing caution to the wind, he might be making a hell of a mistake but he'll take that on the chin too.

He knows you both have a connection, he knows he's into you and he thinks you're pretty into him too.

"Do you not want me to touch you, Wednesday?" he asks seriously, sitting up on his elbow.

"No," you answer immediately.

"Okay," he breathes, pulling away from you.

You shimmy your way farther across the bed before the encroaching loneliness begins to eat at you again.

When Guk is around you, you don't have time to feel it.

So all you do is pout.

You're confused! You don't know what to do! You want to be happy and live in lalaland but can you really indulge in that?!

"Yes," you say in the silent bedroom.

The escort is on you in a matter of moments, pressing his full lips to yours in a searingly hot kiss.

Your hands tangle into his black locks and you tug softly. He hums against you greedily, the sound sending tingles through your limbs at a satisfying pace.

"C'mere, c'mere," he hisses, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up into his lap.

He feels like a drug addict, he's strung out on you and he needs more to function

Your legs wrap around his waist and when you whimper against his lips, his eyes roll back.

"Is this expensive?" he inquires, wrapping his fingers in the spaghetti straps of your nightgown.

"Yes," you answer, pulling away from him.

"Oh, good," he breathes, tugging roughly and feeling the fabric turn to strings before him.

He lays you down softly, watching how your hair billows out around you in tendrils on your pillow. Guk stays nestled between your thighs, running a free hand over your skin.

"You're so smooth and soft," he groans, pulling the useless fabric away from your body to see all of you.

At this moment, you want to cover up and hide. You want to push him off and just curl into the fetal position.

He can see that. He can see the sudden fright in his eyes and his heart hurts at the sight.

"I'm right here, just focus on me," he whispers, pulling at your hands until he lays them flat against his chest.

Your nails dig into his skin softly and the hiss he gives, the way his hips rut to yours on instinct has you distracted all over again.

Finally, he lets his eyes travel down your body.

"God, you're perfect," he mumbles, cupping your breasts.

"Guk, I-I don't know. I'm not… I don't…" you whisper, looking up at him.

When his mocha irises meet yours, they soften. "We can stop, do you want to stop, baby?"

He goes to retract his hands but the prospect of not having him might eat you alive more than if you do.

"I don't know," you answer honestly.

"That's not an answer," he chuckles, leaning down and kissing you softly.

His tongue fights for dominance with yours and it wins so easily that you can feel the ice cold walls around your heart melt within seconds.

You don't want to stop.

But you're scared.

So you're truthful with him and you voice it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Wednesday. I'm not Jasper. I'm here with you, I'm not leaving," he promises.

He's so confident and so heartfelt with his words that you just let yourself be.

You don't want to be this person anymore.

You aren't this person with Jeongguk and you really like that.

He makes you forget heartache and pain, he makes you forget anger and emptiness.

"Do you want this?" he asks, brushing some stray hairs from your face.

"Yes," you nod, giving a shaky breath.

His smile is wide and beaming and he caresses your cheek with the softest touch.

"Good girl," he praises softly, going back to his earlier route.

The praise has your mind spinning, like you're on some kind of serotonin drug.

His hands cup your breasts and he can only compliment them as his lips trail down your neck. "You've got a gorgeous body, Wednesday."

His thumbs flick at your hardening nipples and your back arches with a whimper that sounds so odd tumbling from your lips.

"That's it, gorgeous," Guk hisses, wrapping his perfect lips around your pert nipple.

He hasn't touched a woman in ages either,  he himself hasn't been touched in what feels like years.

The escort wants this so badly, he can't even remind himself to pace himself, he just needs you, he just wants you so badly that it feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

"Say my name," he whispers, moving to your unattended breast and flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

The action sends shivers up your spine and you cry out softly for more.

"Jeongguk!"

His eyes flutter closed at the sincerity of the word and he's all but ready to just give his whole self to you.

He could fall in love with you right now if he's not careful.

One hand continues to play with your breast, pinching and plucking at you until you're short of breath while the other rips your satin underwear away from your core with ease.

"Oh my God," you gasp, putting your head back and squeezing your eyes shut.

The escort kisses down your stomach until his arms are wrapping around your thighs to cage you into a device of his making.

He licks his lips, ogling how much arousal has made you a sodden mess before him and he wants to scream to Heavens to thank them for this opportunity.

"You okay?" Guk inquires sweetly, kissing from your knee to your inner thigh.

"Y-Yeah," you breathe, lifting up on your elbows.

"Good," he hisses, licking a flat stripe up your folding.

Your hands grip at the sheets, mouth dropping open at how warm and wet his mouth is.

"Tongue ring or no tongue ring?" he asks, letting his tongue hang past his lips.

"J-... I-... What?!" you whine, bunching your hands up in his hair.

His smirk is devilish and he chuckles deeply. "Tongue ring it is."

He begins to devour you, suckling and licking at your slit like a man possessed and you crash back down to the bed with moans ripping from your throat.

"Oh fuck! Guk!" you cry out, tugging roughly in his hair.

"Call me daddy," he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your swollen nub.

You're so blissed out that you can't even process his words but you still do as told. "Daddy! Oh my God!"

"Good girl," Guk breathes, inching two fingers towards your entrance.

Your lungs heave with heavy breaths and you watch with rapid fascination as he inches his fingers inside of you.

"You're fucking tight," Jeongguk groans heartily, attaching his lips back to your clit.

He fucks his fingers into you quickly, subsiding the burn of the stretch immediately.

Your legs tingle with pleasure and your toes curl, your mind is jumbled up and all you can feel is this deep ache within your stomach getting bigger and bigger.

When you had sex before, Jasper never looked up at you. He never even went down on you usually but Jeongguk is so present with you.

He stares up at you like he wants to see your pleasure, he wants to treasure this moment. He adores how you writhe and moan for him, he wants you to give everything over to him.

There's adoration in his eyes and you've never seen that before so it pushes you towards the precipice even faster.

He fucks his fingers into you dilligently, groaning at your taste and how loud your moans are that echo off the mansion walls.

"Give it to me, baby," he seethes through his teeth, "I can feel your pussy begging for it."

The handsome man between your legs curls his fingers quickly to the soft patch of muscles inside of you and you yelp softly at the overwhelming feeling.

It's like he already knows how to coax what he wants from you.

"Cum for me and I'll give you my cock," he promises.

It's strange how even in the throes of pleasure you can still find the sassiness you've become so used to peeking out of you. "Wh-Who said I want it?"

Guk chuckles against you, the ragged, hot breath making your back bow. "This pretty pussy says, now cum for me."

He curls his fingers faster until the ache in your stomach bursts and your thighs lock around his shoulders.

Your orgasm is filled with loud moans and white eyelids, your body quivers and racks and Jeongguk sits up to watch it all.

Fuck, you're gorgeous.

Why don't you understand this?

How is he going to make you understand?

Pulling his cock out of his briefs, he strokes it leisurely, waiting for you to come back down to Earth with him.

When your ears stop ringing, you blink once or twice only to be met with the beautiful sight before you.

His cock is long, longer than you expected and so thick that it makes your breath catch. The mushroom tip is red with need and the precum that weeps from his slit is so enticing that your legs open up for him without a second thought.

"Do you want to?" he inquires, leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss is slow and passionate, and he lets go of his cock to hold your face between his hands.

You nod against his lips and he can only smirk.

"Fuck me," you beg, dragging your fingers over his arms.

"Yes ma'am," he whispers, leaning up on his elbow.

You don't know this but he's not going to fuck you. He's going to make love to you but he won't tell you that because it would probably scare the hell out of you.

He positions himself at your entrance, staring deeply into your eyes.

This feels almost too emotional for you but you can't seem to tear your eyes away from his for even a second.

Guk enters you slowly, groaning at the tightness before kissing you languidly to distract you from the stretch.

"Oh my God!" you groan against his lips.

"I'm sorry, is it too big?" he asks with a knowing smile.

"No!" you hiss, letting your eyes flutter shut.

"Oh, no? It's not the biggest cock you've taken in this tight little pussy?" he teases, pulling out and thrusting roughly into you.

Your moan is so loud it could constitute for a scream and you grab for anything to steady yourself.

He gives you his hands, intertwining them and holding them over your head.

"You're so beautiful, Wednesday," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Daddy!" you whine, squeezing his hands.

"I got you, baby. I'm not going anywhere. I promise," Jeongguk avows, thrusting into you harder.

His promise is heartfelt and sincere and that radiates deep inside of you.

Every thrust has meaning and an intention to solidify that.

"God, this pussy feels so fucking good. You're so fucking wet!"

"All for you," you breathe.

You're sincere too.

And he knows it.

"Fuck," he curses, picking up the pace.

Your breasts jiggle with his movements and your mind is muddling again all on its own.

He lets one hand go to slide it down your stomach until it nestles against your throbbing bud and he rubs smooth, fast circles.

"Daddy! Fuck! Yes!"

"Yeah? You like that? You want more, baby? You want to cum for me again?"

You nod incessantly, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Then cum," he coos softly, burying his face in your neck.

Your perfume wraps him in this loving shroud where nothing could ever bother him. You keep him peaceful in this moment.

"I feel it, baby, give it to me. Your pussy is milking my cock so nicely," he groans muffled into your skin.

"G-Guk!" you cry out, squeezing his one hand tighter.

The way you call his name, the anxiousness behind it has him lifting his head.

"I'm right here, Y/N," he whispers, kissing you and coaxing the orgasm from you peacefully.

You whine loudly against his lips, letting go of everything.

The escort groans loudly at how your pussy clenches around him, practically begging him for his seed so he can only comply.

"Oh fuck! I'm cumming! I'm cumming, baby girl!"

His thrusts become shorter and harder until he spills his seed inside of you with shaky breath.

"Baby," he moans loudly, wrapping his arms around you.

Both of your hearts are beating so fast that it feels like they might just give up out of nowhere without warning.

He pulls out of you slowly, laying down by your side and he doesn't even give you a chance to pull away. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair as he closes his eyes.

There's comfortable silence for a while, it's so comfortable that you haven't even had a chance to begin to worry yet.

"I want you to meet my dog," he mumbles sleepily, kissing your shoulder.

"Your dog?" you inquire with a tired giggle.

"He's the only other one that means more to me in this universe than anything."

"The only other one?" you breathe curiously.

He smirks tiredly, closing his eyes.

"Yeah. You heard me, Wednesday."

<----- Last Chapter            Next Chapter ----->

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 19

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

Warnings: here there be smut muahaha

A/N: Dividers by me, many thanks to @desertbcrnnobody for beta help and also my high school physics teacher for fuckin me up about the nature of the universe and macrophysics

series masterlist

chapter 19: ins and outages

Osha remembered another lesson from her high school physics class, some weeks after the three-stage collision lesson. Her teacher had said the earth spun incredibly fast, too fast for anybody to really ever notice it. But there were signs of movement: sunrises and sunsets, weather, gravity itself—all those things were already so integrated into daily life on earth that it felt like the earth wasn’t even spinning at all, if one grew bored enough.

What would happen if it actually did stop spinning? Osha asked back then.

The look her teacher had given her seemed better suited to a man who’d stepped on a landmine’s pressure plate.

We would all die, he said. A simple and brutal truth. Everything would die.

And then we won’t have to worry about the midterm on Tuesday, because there’d be no such thing as midterms, or Tuesdays, or even the concept of worrying—because nothing would be alive to feel anything at all. The world would go… smooth, I think, like a marble. If the arrested motion were sudden enough, perhaps some tectonic plates would break off and go spinning into orbit. The earth would stop spinning, but everything not held down would keep moving—and that’s everything. And once homeostasis was reached, and there was nothing left but a homogenous mess of what used to be…

Things would be quiet. They would be quiet, because there would be nothing else left to be. All this would happen in less than a second—microscopic fractions of a second, before there were no more seconds at all.

Qimir’s sudden, total stillness didn’t portend the complete evisceration of the world around him, but his face held some of that devastation—just a microscopic fraction of it.

Osha didn’t know what to say to jumpstart things again, to reset something like gravity, but just before her blood went cold, he took a deep breath. She watched him, unmoving, as he broke the tableau and sipped his coffee—like he hadn’t just terrified her with the complete shift in his body language.

“I assume she was speaking with Vernestra?” he asked, voice carefully free of any inflection.

Osha still didn’t know what to say. Perhaps he’d been the axis, and she’d been the planet wiped out to a glassy, smooth marble. It wasn’t his world that was ending. He seemed… fine. Sipping his coffee, speaking evenly.

“She was,” Osha said, sticking to the bare truth. “They were talking about, um, working together again. I didn’t know what that… meant.” Even though Indara had kind of put the cart before the horse on that one.

He hummed, but there was a distinct lack of life to it.

This was a bad idea.

As he spoke, he kept his eyes away from her, focused instead on the middle distance. “Idise is a private investigator,” he said plainly, mostly to the wall. “About fifteen years ago, Vernestra hired her to follow me and report on my activities.”

Osha nearly vibrated with the sudden, flooding rage that swept in as her fears were confirmed. How dare she show her face at the Temple and get all cozy with Qimir after that?

“That was how we met,” he said. “I’d been gunrunning for the Hutts for six months when they brought her snooping to my attention—they told me to handle her. So I go out one night and lead her to where I wanted to rush her.”

“What?” Osha whispered. She felt like she’d be sick, forcing herself to take steady, even breaths through her nose.

“I had nothing to lose. I was slowly starving to death because, in those days, all I’d eat was black-market pain medication. If that wasn’t going to kill me, something else was bound to. I was just going through the motions.”

Her heart still didn’t slow as he kept going.

“And then she—” he laughed.

Laughed.

Wait, what?

“I lead her to this parking lot, and Idise just—rushes me. Just how I was going to rush at her. She comes at me with some—I think I called it kung-fu shit back then—she ended up breaking my nose before she put me in a one-handed submission hold that still almost makes me pass out—”

He was… smiling. It was a rueful, unhappy smile, but it was clear he took some actual joy from this memory. What the fuck?

“—but the specifics aren’t important here. She asked me who the hell I was to Vernestra Rwoh, and why the hell did she want to watch me so badly. I don’t know exactly what I said, but I told her the truth, I know that much. Told her I was a loose end. And that much is true now as it was then.”

He’d told her as much, more than a week ago—in his office, talking about destruction and conspiracies.

“I told you I was street fighting back then—the Hutts ran kind of the same fight night deal that Unplan does, but people often left that ring in body bags, not ambulances. I was in that ring for-fucking-ever. That time is just as fuzzy as my time at the Temple, probably worse, because of the drugs. I thought Idise was trying to kill me at first, I absolutely believe it’s not beneath Vernestra to put a hit on someone like me.”

He said it so casually it made Osha’s heart stop.

“But then, this P.I. chick breaks my nose, almost has me throw up and pass out, then she starts babbling about some conspiracy with the Temple, how she’d been piecing shit together and found a bunch of people who knew but were hushed up about it. I told her… I told her I didn’t care.”

“Wh—?” Osha wasn’t certain what she was reacting to: Idise knowing about the corruption in the Temple, Idise admitting that knowledge to Qimir, or his ultimately nihilistic attitude towards all of it. He cared, Osha knew. He had the capacity to care, deep as trenches.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because when he met her eyes again, his jaw flexed, chewing back whatever words he was going to say in favor of something else.

“I was in a bad place, Osha. I lived every day like I thought it would be my last, and not in a good way. My spine had been fixed by surgery when I was 17, but by the time I turned 19, I was in immense pain every single day—no support net, couldn’t get a job, hadn’t finished high school since Vernestra ‘homeschooled’ me. No money, no friends, no home. All the titles and accolades I’d won for Vernestra had been sanitized, marking the Temple as the victor against another fighter. And the prize cash was held in a trust I never ever saw. I had nothing.

“All I had was my pain, and I didn’t even want that. So I numbed it with drugs; the Hutts were more than happy to provide them as payment for my services.”

He drained the rest of his coffee, looking mildly disgusted.

“What happened after that?” Osha asked. He got up, getting himself another cup and sitting down before speaking.

“Obviously, I couldn’t kill her in the end. I pursued it for a while, it kept me occupied. She outfoxed me mentally, outclassed me physically, and knew more about me than I knew about myself back then. And somehow, breaking that routine, the dull violence and crime the Hutts tasked me with, it snapped some sense back into me. I didn’t want to kill her. I didn’t want to kill anybody. I didn’t want to hurt anybody, not on the streets, not in the ring. I’d seen other guys do it. But I couldn’t—” His voice tightened around an invisible chokehold. “I just couldn’t.”

Osha knew she was probably crazy for it, but she believed every word he said. She accepted every ounce of darkness he shared with her. Without hesitation or reluctance, she took his hand and held it tight. I’m here, she conveyed. I believe you, and I’m still here. It gave him bravery, she thought.

“Idise kept trying to talk to me, even after I tried to tell her off, tell her the Hutts wanted her dead. But she wouldn’t listen. She was focused on me joining her crusade against the Temple. I’d tried doing that before, throwing bricks and making threats against them. And it’s a truth I took too long to learn, that a lot of unfortunate people took too long to understand: the Temple is just too big to beat.”

Osha’s flare of indignance was difficult to obscure.

“But Idise had this idea. If enough people—people who know, you know—stand against the Temple, they might actually be able to do something. They couldn’t sue us all—that was her logic. I didn’t care, though. I was still starving, I was just a little more scared, now. I kept avoiding her, but she’d find me. Tell her off. Avoid her. She found me. Rinse-repeat.” He stopped again, taking a few breaths. Shaky inhale, shaky exhale. “Then the Hutts caught wind that I hadn’t—handled her.”

Osha’s blood finally went cold. “Shit,” she whispered.

He nearly tripped over his words, trying to speak quickly just to get this story over with. “It’s a—it’s a story not worth telling. It’s not important right now. When they were done with me, I was completely fucked up. They left me for dead out in the street. And then—”

With the curtains drawn back from the morning sunlight, they could hardly tell the power in the apartment had gone out—if it weren’t for the power-down bwrhhhh that seemed to come from the walls. Just as fast as the power had gone out, it returned.

Damn winter power outages. 

“Keep going, please,” Osha said when he didn’t immediately speak up.

He looked like he wanted to protest for her sake, but nodded. “Idise found me. Took me somewhere safe. I got back on my feet. Got my diploma, then started college. I didn’t want to, but I tried to pay back Idise by helping her dig for information about Vernestra and the Temple. She didn’t have as much as she made it out to seem.”

“What—hold on, what about Vernestra hiring her?”

He nodded, an oh yeah expression on his face. “She’d fed Vernestra enough to get some information in return. When Vernestra’s stories started not adding up with what she had found out herself, she knew she had to get out of the spider’s web while she could. She told Vernestra that my trail went cold when I joined up with the slugs—code for I don’t wanna get involved with the Hutts. Two weeks after parting ways with Vernestra, Idise broke my nose in a parking lot.”

The wry little smile on his face was confounding.

This wasn’t what Osha thought she’d hear from him. She’d anticipated vitriol and a history of deceit, of… anything but nostalgia. She felt incredibly silly for making wild assumptions about Idise and her history with the Temple. Osha’s vitriol toward her at the gym all at once felt so stupid and embarrassing. She’d been telling the truth.

I’m not working for her. I wouldn’t do that to him.

“You told me you stopped searching for evidence,” Osha said.

He nodded. “I did. Almost a decade ago. Called off the hunt two years into pre-med. Before, my days were spent cramming science, my nights were spent helping the team follow any lead to take down the Temple. One half seeking to do no harm, one half only seeking harm. It was eating me up—scraping me raw. It was… I was in a dark headspace.

“One day, my advanced chemistry professor shared the basic formula for homemade explosives. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was obsessed. Night and day, my thoughts were consumed by the idea of ending the Temple just to stop having to think about it all the time. I never told Idise the real reason why we needed to stop; I told her it was just not feasible to continue, and I shut it down. She was never satisfied with my reasoning. But I shut it down, and eventually I graduated, I got my job, postgrad—wouldn’t have been able to safely learn all the delicate parts of the body if all I did was think about how I could use that knowledge to break the person who broke me.”

His eyes flickered, first to her, and then away as a cloud of shame settled over his head. 

Fuck. Osha remembered similar states of obsessive, all-consuming despair. In the years following her injury, she remained in a floating, numb state of hopelessness. Very often and very easily, her mind would spiral into dark places she couldn’t claw her way out of, though most of her maladaptive daydreaming ended in a grave with her own name on it.

She empathized with him; she wouldn’t have wanted to continue either. Forgetting, remembering. They’re different pains that make you wish you had the other.

“But, eventually, the pain wasn’t all I had. Idise is a seeker. She’s a bloodhound, and she is fantastic at what she does. She saw that I had things… missing. She’d already found Paul, Kana, and Medora for me. She didn’t find it, but she was part of Unknown Planet, and brought me into the fold there. She’d found an outlet for the anger that was still there no matter how much I denied it. I owe her my life, a hundred times over. It’s hard to be friends or friendly with someone like that, but we’re close. It feels like fate brought us together, and now fate won’t let us part.”

It felt fucking cheap to ask, but Osha did anyway. “A lot of people at Unplan think you two were… involved. Were you?”

He startled at the question, his face incredulous. “Absolutely not.”

That seems a bit of an overreaction. “Uh, is there a reason why not?”

“Aside from the fact I’m very much not her type, we know each other too well, have been together through too much for me to feel anything but that bond. There’s no way I could be vulnerable around her like I can be with you. You’ve met her. She’s fucking intense.”

He wasn’t wrong. “Intense is a word for it,” she agreed, trying not to let her fluttering heart get the best of her. “But why do you think she was at the Temple?”

“What was said?” That wasn’t an answer.

Still, Osha relayed what she remembered about that day, and then halted when she realized another crucial piece of information she was leaving out.

“What is it?” he said, fingers laced beneath his chin. He’d been frowning through her story, deep in thought.

Why can’t we go back to dry humping in his bed?

“I’m… she also uh. Kinda cornered me at Unplan when I was working out later that week. She must’ve known I’d thought the worst of the situation and wanted to… I don’t know, clear the air.”

But Qimir’s expression had gone thunderous and dark. Rage simmered on his features like he was made of boiling magma. He was pissed. He held none of that anger for the violation toward his own privacy, but when it came to Osha, his temper flared like the goddamn sun.

“And what else did she say?” he asked, his voice gone tight. This wasn’t protectiveness over her, she realized. Why is he so angry? What the fuck happened between them?

“She asked me if I knew where you were. I didn’t tell her anything, of course. And then she said Vernestra didn’t want to hire her to follow you again.”

His throat bobbed, words swallowed down.

“What?” Osha said. “What aren’t you saying?”

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. The anger wasn’t so much boiling as it was now simmering, cooled off enough for him to form logical thoughts. “If she’s not following me, who else do you think she would want Idise tailing?”

“What—?”

He reached for her hand, squeezing once. “Who else at the Temple has been mistreated, injured, erased, overworked, and brought down enough to have one hell of a motive to tear it all down?”

Oh.

Fuck.

“Yeah, fuck,” he said.

Just like that, the perfect morning they’d started with had been balanced back to a net zero.

Q: Leave Osha out of this.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I was wondering why I couldn’t text you.

UN: You break that phone on purpose too?

Q: She’s not a part of it, no matter what you’re doing.

UN: If she’s involved with you, she has no choice.

UN: What were you doing in Khofar?

UN: Didn’t take you for a cabin-in-the-woods type.

Q: Leave it alone.

UN: No :)

UN: What were you doing in Khofar?

UN: What were you doing in Khofar?

UN: What were you doing in Khofar?

Osha woke up from her afternoon nap, still on day one of limbo. Three days remained before Sol and Mae and the whole Temple returned from Theed. When she checked her phone, there were no new messages, so she suspected Mae hadn’t asked Sol what he wanted to talk to them about just yet.

She didn’t know what to do about Vernestra hiring Idise to keep an eye on her, and Qimir just said he’d handle it. In the context of his story, she didn’t feel too good about that assurance. 

“You’re being fucking stupid, Osha,” she muttered, getting up to get ready for work.

Kana and Medora were there when she arrived. 

Paul, and Kana, and Medora.

Hold on, who the fuck is Paul?

“You alright there, Osha?” Kana asked when Osha hadn’t finished taking off her coat to hang up. She jumped, turning around to hide her embarrassment.

“Sorry! Still waking up a little bit.” She shook her head.

“Been there. Go make yourself a coffee, girl.”

“I think I might,” Osha said, smiling at Medora.

“Did the power go out at your place, too? I’m glad I was already here when it happened.”

The wintertime sometimes messed with the badly-weatherized power grid, knocking out power in parts of the city. Osha had come back from Qimir’s to a bunch of clocks blinking 12:00 and had spent the better part of her afternoon resetting everything.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Pretty lame.”

Kana picked up their conversation again. It warmed her to know they didn’t feel the need to keep secrets from her.

“So the police got involved?”

“Yeah, they wanted to question her but I told them to fuck off.”

“I mean she’s four, don’t they have any better leads than a traumatized toddler?”

“That’s what I told them!”

Osha closed her locker and tied off her apron. She wasn’t trying to hide that she was listening in, but she wasn’t trying to involve herself in their conversation either—no matter how intriguing it sounded. 

Medora seemed to catch onto that, turning to her and bringing her into the conversation herself. “Have I ever told you what my day job is, Osha?”

She shook her head. “I figured you didn’t need one; they tip you so well here.”

Kana barked a laugh. “A flatterer!” he crowed, leaning back in his chair.

Medora just threw him a look before she said, “I’m a youth counselor for the FDO.”

“That’s amazing,” Osha said, smiling warmly.

“I always wanted to help out. I spent all my time in the medical wing of the building growing up. Asked a billion questions of all the doctors there.”

She sounded like Mae, constantly asking questions and endlessly curious. At the end of the day, she was kind, thankful, and caring.

“So you always knew you wanted to be a doctor?”

“Pretty much,” she said, shrugging.

“Medora’s being humble for no reason, she got her doctorate same year as Q. They were neck and neck for summa and magna cum laude their whole last year.” Kana sounded so proud, lauding his siblings’ accomplishments. 

“It wasn’t a race, you idiot,” Medora grumbled. “I’m still surprised Paul let you go to art school.”

“Yeah, well, Paul knew the fuckin’ apartment needed someone in the humanities, or we’d all starve. Has Q cooked for you, Osha?”

She remembered the smoke alarm interruption from earlier that morning. “He’s… tried to.”

Kana laughed again, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “Imagine a house of four grown adults, and three of them have Q’s cooking skills.”

“Who’s, um.” Her mouth went dry the moment before she could say—

“Paul?” Medora said, her voice pitched high. “What the shit, Q doesn’t talk about Paul? Does he talk to you at all? Or does he do that brooding thing the whole time?” She did an (accurate) impression of her brother’s raincloud demeanor.

“We talk,” Osha said, stepping in to defend Qimir. “He’s kind of tight-lipped about some things from his past, but he’s told me quite a bit.” Obviously not enough.

“Well, you know his spine issues as a kid,” Kana said. “Paul ran the pediatric spine clinic Q got treated at. Did the surgeries himself when he—” The sharp cutoff, combined with the grimace, said when he broke his back at 17.

Osha nodded, signaling that he didn’t have to rehash it. “You still keep in touch?”

“Idise managed to track him down after the clinic mysteriously shuttered,” Medora said, playing with the end of her braid. The mention of Idise still brought a sick little twist to her stomach, but Osha was learning to accept that embarrassment and move on. “Q was with him a few months by then, recovering from that horrible car accident. Then she found Kana, and I was just about to age out of the FDO when she found me. She brought us all back together again, after everything.”

“That’s—that’s really great,” Osha said. Car accident. They either didn’t know the Hutts had messed him up and left him for dead, or they didn’t know that Osha knew the real story.

Her awkwardness was overshadowed by fraternal teasing. “Ooo, when she found you, so romantic, Medora.”

Her face flushed a little pink, and she scowled at Kana across the breakroom table. “Shut up.”

Kana checked the clock after antagonizing her with another teasing grin. “Moonrise is in five. Let’s lock in.”

“Got it.”

So Medora absolutely had a crush on Idise. It made sense why Qimir was so adamant that he was never with Idise like that. But if Kana was aware of Medora’s crush on Idise, why would he tell Osha otherwise? The thoughts followed her through her shift, but there were enough things to do at the bar that her daydreams only skimmed the surface of those quandaries—though that surface was obviously still distressing.

“You look grouchy,” Kana commented two hours into their shift. She hadn’t been avoiding him, but the question of his false implication about Qimir and Idise had her wondering what he had to gain from it. “S’on your mind?”

Osha winced, wiping down the same section of the bar as she’d done for the last twenty minutes. It was slow tonight. Had everyone in the city gone to Theed with the Temple?

“Why did you—” Osha cut herself off, turning back from where her body had started moving to face him. She faced away.

“Why’d I what?” he asked, moving to her peripherals.

“It’s uh, nothing.”

“Let’s take a break.”

She heard the order for what it was.

They grabbed their jackets and went to the back parking lot. Osha’s heart pounded, wondering what he would say to her. Kana was her boyfriend’s brother but also her boss. And here she was thinking that things couldn’t possibly be weirder than when Mae was on shift with her at the cafe.

Kana lit a cigarette and offered one to her. She accepted it impulsively.

“You seem overwhelmed,” he said, lighting one off the other.

“I am overwhelmed,” Osha said, all her breath leaving her in a whoosh. She fidgeted with her sleeves until she could take a drag.

She’d smoked a little in high school, out of sheer stress and the lack of anything better to do. Cal had thought she was so cool, smoking behind the school auditorium. She’d kissed him so he could know what it tasted like, but he’d coughed so hard he almost puked, then sweetly asked to try again. That was near the last time she smoked—because smoking led to Cal’s interest, which led to Cal’s kissing, which led to Sol almost pounding a 17-year-old’s face in. 

Osha was a touch out of practice, but smoking came back to her as easy as fighting.

“Qimir is an enigma. I wasn’t lying to you when I said he’s lonely and prefers it like that.”

So he knew what she was stressing about. “Were you… testing me? That night?”

He shrugged. “Suppose I was. Medora’ll give you the official shovel talk when the time comes, but you can’t blame me for looking out for my brother.”

She doubted Mae would risk giving Qimir the shovel talk. She didn’t even want to think about Sol meeting him—though, history proves they already know one another.

“That’s fair,” she said, looking out at the dark lot. “How’d I do on your test?” she asked. She hoped she didn’t sound bitter, but her emotions had been out of wack since she arrived.

“I certainly wouldn’t have put you on my shoulders if you failed,” he said dryly. She finally realized what was so uncanny about this conversation. He sounded different from how he’d spoken indoors—he wasn’t running his words together or using that city drawl Osha never got the hang of. Compared to how he was speaking to her now, the voice he used inside was closer to Qimir’s doofus accent.

They really were brothers.

It made Osha laugh—too late to be laughing at his remark. “What?” said Kana.

She shook her head, smiling. “I’m just glad I know you all.”

It put him at ease, a fond smile taking over his face. They smoked in silence for a minute—until the lamps above them suddenly powered down, dimming almost to total darkness before clawing their way back to illumination.

Damn it. She’d just reset the appliances.

Kana didn’t seem too worried about it, continuing their conversation as if nothing had happened.

“I know Qimir would never say as much, but Paul’s absolutely his dad—and Qimir’s Paul’s son. Me and Paul, we don’t got that kind of relationship. We’re tight, and he’s family, but he’s not my dad like he’s been for Qimir and Medora.”

“Did he encourage them to pursue medicine?”

“That’s a way to put it,” he said, chuckling. “I’d say he was the damn reason for it.”

“That’s cute,” Osha said, smiling. The anxiety in her chest seemed to float away with every drag on her cigarette. “My dad’s…” Oh shit. She’d walked herself into this corner. She didn’t want Kana looking at her how Qimir had looked at her after that welterweight comment. She settled on, “Weird.”

“Weird?” Kana laughed. “Weird how?”

Weird how Sol seems deeply involved in this whole fucking mess. Weird how Sol seems way too okay letting the Temple hang albatross after albatross around his neck. Weird how he fucking passes out on my couch on my birthday because he doesn’t know when things have gone too far. Weird how he insists on family dinners but never lets us act like a family. Weird how Qimir clearly hates him but never talks about it. Weird how Sol had a framed photo of him in the room full of memories he didn’t care to dwell on.

“Just… weird. He adopted me and my sister hella fast after our—well, after we lost our family. And it’s been seventeen years, but he still hasn’t gotten the hang of fatherhood. Family dinners with him are really awkward.”

Kana didn’t pry, picking up on Osha’s discomfort. “Well, we all usually get together once every few weeks just to hang out at Paul’s place. Just to shoot the shit, take walks together. I think you’d like it. Paul’s a good guy. I hope you meet him soon.” I hope Qimir invites you soon, he was saying.

It sounded so nice—but Qimir had never mentioned Paul in the first place. There was so much Osha had no idea about. Qimir’s life was still unfolding in front of her—like a map that started out as small as her palm but folded out to the size of a beach towel. She’d been fairly adamant about her position on deception, especially where omitted information was concerned. Even so, each new answer only brought twice as many questions. It was so difficult to keep up with.

And eventually, it’d catch up with her, a warning voice intoned in her head.

But she stayed in the moment. “I’d like that, too. He sounds nice,” she said. 

Kana put out his cigarette and tossed it in the metal receptacle by the door.

“Does Qimir join every time?” she asked, doing the same.

Kana’s hand stilled on the handle of the service door. He looked over his shoulder at her, just the glint of his eye shining in the shadows.

“Not for the last three months.”

O: [IMG_9322.HEIC]

?: Is your shift over?

?: You look beautiful.

O: Yeah I’m omw home now

O: All the damn lights are reset ugh

Osha got a wicked impulse.

O: Wanna come over?

She forced herself not to look at her phone for the entire drive back to the apartment, equal parts nervous and excited for whatever his answer might be. When she parked, she finally checked her phone—

The knock on her window made her scream.

After a few adrenaline-fueled seconds, she finally recognized Qimir’s bewildered face through the glass. “What the fuck!” she laughed, near about to pass out.

“Sorry,” he said, muffled through the glass.

She finally looked at the text.

?: Yes I’ll be there when you park.

Sent ten minutes ago.

She got out of the car, fueled by the urge to slap him silly and kiss him just the same. The second urge won, her hand twining in the scarf around his neck and pulling him down to her. She kissed him right there with her car door between their bodies, remnants of her fright still racing through her veins.

He pulled away, humming and happily content. Then he stopped, frowning. “Were you smoking with Kana?”

“Howwww the hell do you know that?”

“You taste like his cigarettes,” he said. It felt ridiculous to imagine him jealous—

Oh.

He was jealous.

“I can go brush my teeth,” she said lamely, basically gawping up at him. Maybe wash my mouth out, maybe get punished over a knee—now that’s a thought—

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, gathering his composure again.

Before it could settle, before logic could win, she rattled the bars that kept the beast in him locked away. Osha stood on tip-toes, moving her hand from his scarf to his hair to pull him down again. If her nails slightly pressing into his scalp bothered him, the low, pleased growl he gave in return didn’t say so.

Qimir’s hands went to her shoulders, maneuvering her around the side of her car door so he could kiss her up against the freezing surface. She squeaked at the sudden cold against her back, but he didn’t care. He was ravenous, kissing and licking into her mouth like he wanted to erase any claim left by someone else. Like he’d go so far as breathing against every inch of her skin that was stained with phantom tobacco so she wore the scent of anybody but him.

For fuck’s sake, Kana was his brother. Why did it turn her on so much to think he was acting this way because Kana gave her a cigarette?

She didn’t give a shit, taking as much as he gave her. She was slightly stunned when he pulled back, fixing her with a sharp glare.

“Smoking is very bad for you.”

Then he resumed, lips trailing down to her jaw, her neck, that soft spot behind her ear that made her shiver when he ran his tongue over it. Osha’s breathy laugh sounded so ridiculously wanton in response to his chiding. She kept her hand in his hair as he worried his teeth over her sensitive skin. He must have reached where she’d sprayed a bit of perfume earlier, because his low moan made her insides go to jelly and her knees threaten to buckle.

“M-maybe we can go inside?” she asked, sounding weak to her own ears. Round two, yes please.

He found a place to pause; lips still formed around her pulse—all he’d need to do is bare his teeth, and he’d be that wolf again, demanding submission.

Maybe it’s about time I bare my neck for him, too…

“Inside,” he agreed.

Qimir walked a half-step behind Osha, one hand perched at the small of her back. She looked down into her bag to search for her keys, cursing under her breath as she rummaged.

There was a sudden yank at her belt loop, tugging her two swift steps to the right—to avoid walking into a neighbor passing them in the hall. The neighbor ignored them, just as wrapped up in their world as Osha was, but Osha turned her surprised look up to Qimir, who released her and re-settled his hand at the small of her back. He just shrugged, a smug smirk threatening to surface on his lips.

She finally found her goddamn keys, but then spent another few seconds trying to decipher which one meant open door.

That hand at the small of her back smoothed its way to her hip, another joining at the other side as he stood behind her. Her ability to concentrate took another horrific blow—practically at death’s door, and all his fault.

“I like these jeans,” he said conversationally, as if he was talking about some medical journal he’d read recently. “You make them look nice.”

She wasn’t sure that was how clothing-based flattery was usually structured. She didn’t respond, eliminating key by key by—

Another yank at her belt loops, this time pulling her back into him. Her hips made contact with his, and she jolted a little when she realized he was hard behind her. Holy shit holy shit key gods, please—

There.

The door swung open, and they stole inside like bandits. She would have thought he would want to continue that next logical step (so logical. The most fucking logical thing ever) from what he’d started on the doormat, but his eyes suddenly filled with curiosity that stopped all ardor in its tracks.

He was in her apartment.

The revelation struck her just seconds after it did him. She felt giddy with it. “You ever see the other floorplans here?” she asked, awkwardly making a show at playing host to him.

“There’s more rooms in this one,” he said, both truthfully and sarcastically.

“Your powers of observation are stunning, Coach Lo.”

He leveled an I’m not playing, you’re gonna get it if you push me look at her, one she responded to with a coquettish smile. They removed their shoes and she turned on a few lights to point out the obvious: kitchen, living room, bathroom.  She scowled at the blinking 12:00 on the stovetop in the kitchen.

“That’s Mae’s room over there, and—”

MYAHHHH???

“You haven’t met my other roommate,” Osha said, rushing to the cat tree in the corner. She scooped up the cute ball of fur in her hands and returned to Qimir, who was still taking in the living room—more specifically, he was looking at the bookshelf, pulling out random books to peer at in the light. When Osha approached, he gave her his attention. “This is Pip. Pip, this is my stranger.”

He sighed deeply. “Fuck you for holding something cute while saying that.” He sounded actually tormented by it—I am so oppressed, my girlfriend is using her kitten as a shield against my horny nature.

Osha loved pushing his buttons.

Pip seemed to like Qimir, using his sharp kitten claws to traverse the sleeve of his black denim jacket up to his absurdly broad shoulders. Osha could have died at the image of Qimir’s surprised face when Pip came and bumped his cold little nose against his jaw.

Then Pip descended down the back of his jacket, his claws making little tiny scratch noises. “Oh no—” Osha said, stepping in to help.

Pip had lodged himself right in the center of Qimir’s shoulder blades, where even his long arms couldn’t reach him. He grunted as he tried to get Pip back to safety, and Osha just started to laugh—though it was well past quiet hours in her building. Pip made a series of feline battle cries, hanging onto his conquered jacket with imperious greed.

“Oh my god, this is insane,” Osha laughed, finally prising her cat off of his jacket. “You naughty boy!” she declared, kissing the top of his head. “Good job, Pip.”

Qimir took the opportunity to remove his jacket, laying it over the back of her couch like it belonged there. She finally understood why he reacted so intensely to her wearing his clothes—this was another sign of his possessive nature. Staking his claim, leaving his things about, touching her books.

With intent to sleep in her bed.

It was a queen, and with his size, it’d be a tight fit.

I bet he likes a tight f—

To sleep. They would be sleeping.

Wait, was lewdness on the table? Could she ask for lewdness?

“Are you hungry?” she asked, covering her bases before they slept.

He shook his head, but something in his eyes told her otherwise.

Osha ensured Pip was cared for, sleeping soundly in his bed, before she took Qimir’s hand and led him to her bedroom.

He hadn’t said much since they walked in, keeping all his observations to himself. Even here, he took his time to take her room in.

Qimir lived quite the spartan life, hardly keeping any personal effects in his home, his car—hell, the most clutter she’d seen was in his office, but that seemed like the exception to his rules. Osha hadn’t been joking that first time she met him in his office; her room was chaotic but it was her.

She tried looking at her room from his perspective. The bed looked perpetually unmade, the comforter hopelessly tangled within the confines of the duvet cover. Her desk hadn’t been used since high school, and currently housed her very tiny, very new makeup collection. The desk chair had instead become a chair closet, holding a pile of laundry—oh fuck, was that one of her bras?

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

But he wasn’t looking at the lacy bundle that may or may not have been a bra—his eyes were on the windowsill, one hand reaching for the small purple butterfly—

“Don’t,” she implored, not really sure why. He’d freely touched plenty of things in her apartment until now—herself included—but the little crystal figurine seemed too precious for her to share with him tonight. “Please,” she added, though they were sure she didn’t want to say it.

Qimir retracted his hand, watching Osha now as if she were the new object of his interest. “It’s beautiful,” he said, not looking at it.

“I sometimes forget it’s there,” she said.

“It was the first thing I saw. It caught the moonlight just right.”

She hadn’t ever looked at it in the moonlight before. In the dark moments before sleep, she could never bear to look at it, lest it invite nightmares of her last moments with her mothers.

But he was right; it sparkled and glittered the way it had that day in the shop. The cool moonlight made the purple seem regal, faceted reflections and refractions cast upon the windowsill like bold splashes of light.

She said nothing more, holding out her hand for him to come closer.

Wanna come over? she’d asked him. She wished she’d been more specific, because now that he was here, she had no clue what to do with him.

He seemed to have his own ideas, though.

He stepped into her space, one hand on her hip and the other coming to tilt her face up to his. But he didn’t kiss her; not just yet. He came close, looking her over with a face of yearning intensity she was becoming familiar with.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

She didn’t shy from the compliment; she didn’t want to run from this, run from him and all his feelings. If she was allowed to feel as deeply for him as she did, then she wanted him to feel the same. And she’d never know it if she kept running from every declaration he made to her.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

Qimir smiled like he knew the amount of growth and healed self-esteem it had taken to reach this point. He rewarded her with a kiss, just a simple lean and they were one.

Osha closed her eyes and fell against him, arms wrapping around the back of his neck. His hands grasped her close, like he dared any other to separate them. Their kiss wasn’t feverish, but the heat rolled like a campfire, an eternal flame to keep them warm in this lonely, dark winter.

Especially when the goddamn power went out—and didn’t seem to come back on after the usual fifteen seconds.

They didn’t move apart, quietly laughing at the absurdity. “All fuckin’ day,” she giggled.

“Well, I guess that means it’s lights out,” he said, teasing.

She shoved her palm against his shoulder playfully. “I’m not sleepy, are you?”

Instead of answering, he simply kissed his way down her neck, humming as if in thought. “Hungry.”

She blinked in the dark, even as stars danced before her eyes at every little zing of feeling he gave her. “I just asked you if—”

“Not for that,” he interrupted, on the wings of soft, dark laughter.

Oh fuck.

His teeth joined the distracting mix, dragging down to where her shirt lay open at the front. “You’re hungry?” she asked, voice going a bit high. Her inexperience had to have shown sometime—why not now?

But he didn’t withdraw. He was offering her something, something he knew was new to her. He nodded, smooth and comfortable just doing what he was doing—but she knew that a single word from her would have him going full bodice-ripper romance hero.

At least, she hoped so.

She moaned softly as his lips wrapped around the delicate line of her collarbone, indulgent like he was savoring her. She buried her fingers in his hair and was rewarded with a hot, sudden exhale through his nose. But he still didn’t bend. A hand in the hair won’t do it, Osha.

She tried pushing her hand up under his shirt, splaying across his toned stomach. But it didn’t make him snap. Touching isn’t consent, Osha, her logical brain reminded her.

“Well, I’m more than happy to feed you if you’re hungry,” she said, a little breathless as she pulled on his hair. She chewed her lip, hoping he understood her correctly.

Even in the pitch darkness, she could tell just how dark his eyes had gotten. Qimir’s face was open with want, not a single ounce of desire shuttered behind his expression. “Alright,” he breathed, and then moved.

He had her lying across her bed in under a second; his body pressed atop hers like he’d done that morning and kept her pinned in place. Her belated gasp came against his lips as he claimed hers in another kiss. This time, he didn’t straddle her, keeping his body angled slightly to the side of her, curling around her supine form.

His hand mimicked what hers had done just a moment ago, splaying across her lower tummy beneath the edge of her shirt. She was still mostly in her work clothes, save her shoes. His hand spanned so wide, his thumb and pinky touching both her hipbones simultaneously. She always felt so small when he did this, truly feeling their size difference.

But then his hand moved, pushing up, up—teasing right at the edge of her bra before it moved back down, pressing gently on every rib his fingertips passed. She groaned, half in frustration and half at how good his touch felt. She must have been starved for it before to react this much to his touches. That had to be it—she couldn’t have been responding just to him.

On the downward pass, he skimmed over the waistband of her work pants, fingertips brushing over the seam at the middle. “I can feel you; you’re so hot for me, Osha,” he murmured. “Will you be wet if I touch you right now?”

She could only whine, overwhelmed by his attentions. When his hand moved to cover the entire area, she repeated the noise, this time raising her hips needily. He moved his hand up and down over her, and yes, yes she’d be wet if he touched her.

“I guess I’ll have to find out, won’t I?” he chuckled. Deftly, he undid the button and fly of her work pants and let them stay like that. His mouth kept up a steady stream of commentary in her ear as he touched her.

“You’ve probably got the prettiest pair of panties on for me—and just absolutely ruined them, haven’t you?” he said, lips brushing her ear softly enough to make her shiver. “There’s nothing like soaked lace over a hot, wet pussy—love to see you like that someday, pretty girl.”

Osha’s moan seemed obscenely loud in contrast to the quiet room, the soft murmurs he was giving her.

“Good girl, telling me how she feels.” He kissed her cheek so gently and chastely that right now, it seemed filthy. “Wanna hear every noise you make from her on out. Don’t you dare hide them from me.” His fingertips brushed over her clit, through her soaked panties—making her gasp. “That’s right, that’s for me.”

For a while, he just rubbed her over her panties, nearly to the point where she was sure he wasn’t going to move past that—but then his hand drew back and then he was pushing beneath them, trapped under that wet cotton he’d only gotten wetter. She moaned helplessly at the feeling of his direct touch on her pussy—how long had it been since she last touched herself not to the thought of him? This was so, so much better.

His rough fingertips spun tight little circles over her clit, occasionally dipping down to where she was wettest to slick the way. His tongue matched what his fingers were doing—drawing wet little spirals that left a cool trail in its wake. It made her shiver and sweat all at once. He would never push them in, though, always just dipping his fingertips in—like a penitent man crossing himself with wetted fingers from a cathedral font.

She grew impatient, bringing her hands down to shove at her bottoms. The elastic snapped against her as it crested the ridge of his knuckles, but she didn’t give a fuck. Her hands went next to her work shirt, unbuttoning the front with fingers that trembled in their eagerness.

He moaned her name at the sight of her undressing for him, though his hand remained where it had been, stilled for now. When she sat up to remove her bra, he sucked in a breath but didn’t stop her. All she knew, in the spinning room that was her mind, was that she needed no clothes and more him.

At the revealed skin, he marveled, expression awed as he beheld her as some kind of sacrament. It should have intimidated her to be so clearly regarded as a holy thing. But Osha was used to being worshiped, even 17 years out of practice.

One thing she knew about worshipers was that they would kneel.

Her hand found his hair, and with ease, she pushed him toward the edge of the bed, pushed him down, pushed him into place between her thighs. She knew this much, at least. He finally looked like how he’d teased—hungry. No, starving.

Then she pulled him back to her.

His lips never once stopped moving, whetting their thirst by wetting them with her. She moaned, low and long as he hauled her legs up over his shoulders. Just barely, she could make out the feeling of the scar on his back beneath her heel. With how hunched over he was as he ate her out, she needed only to lift her head a few inches off the bed to see it. His tongue pushed into her, then out—not testing the waters or stretching, but consuming. She swore softly under her breath and shifted her hips up a little for him to go deeper, to take more.

She wasn’t freaking out how she thought she would. For years and years, thinking about some faceless, imaginary partner would inspire all kinds of anxiety in her. But now, with her stranger here, none of those worries were even on the same planet. She was relaxed, blissfully relaxed beneath him, above him, wherever he wanted her to be. Her orgasm was ready to step in if she wanted it to come, but for now, the intimacy of Qimir’s head between her thighs was enough to pull a satisfied sigh from her lips.

She felt his lips twitch against her—smiling. Qimir was now taking his time, laving his tongue over every inch he could get at. She could live like this forever, teetering on a thinning platform of pleasure and joyfully falling over the edge whenever she wanted.

His eyes met hers through the darkness, glinting with the moonlight streaming in through the window. She wondered what the look was for a moment before he concentrated his lips to suck at her clit, leaving room for a finger to press gently inside of her. She moaned weakly, the unfamiliar feeling making her head spin even as he held still, letting her get used to him.

Testing how it felt, she bit her lip and squeezed around his finger. All his breath left him in a whistling wheeze, eyes practically rolling back in his head. She did it again, and his other hand disappeared from where it’d rested on her thigh. She didn’t see where it went, but by the rhythmic motions of his shoulder, she could guess what it was up to.

He pressed another kiss to her clit before he added another finger. He was a large man, and his hands were absolutely proportionate to that standard—the stretch was a pleasant burn within her, equal to stepping into a too-hot bath and letting yourself bear the heat until it was tolerable. The burn became tolerable very quickly, with how loose-limbed he’d made her.

“Mm?” he hummed against her clit, letting his lips brush back and forth against it for a moment before resuming his sucking kisses.

“Yes,” she rasped, her voice all but abandoned her. “Yes.”

For so long, she’d been denied what she wanted, been second-guessed to the point of defeating herself, been forgotten and pushed aside by those she cared for. Qimir knelt before her as the antithesis to her very negative expectations. He encouraged her to not only want but ask, and take. Experimentally, she tightened her fingers in his hair and pulled her back up to her mouth. He moved with grace, his fingers still pushing in and dragging out of her with the same steady rhythm that was rattling her composure with aplomb. In the absence of his mouth, his thumb took up the mantle, rubbing tight little circles in time with the rest of his hand.

His bare chest pressed against her—when had he taken his goddamn shirt off?—and near his hips, something incredibly hot and wet touched her bare thigh. She was too busy kissing him to look down at him, too busy tasting herself on his lips to care.

Tension thrummed beneath his skin, as if his bones were made of struck tuning forks. She wasn’t certain of the reason, but she guessed it had something in common with his pouty face when she pulled him away from the meal he was making of her.

“Fuck, Osha,” he said, his pitch all over the place as he balanced on the tightrope of self-control. He rested his forehead against hers, meeting her eyes just like that morning. “Can I make you come like this?” he asked breathlessly, his fingers curling a little, searching for—

“Ah! Fuck, please, there, please,” she whined, practically squirming beside him.

“So beautiful when you come, can’t wait to see it again,” he said, his movements speeding up only minimally as he sought to abuse the angle that had her crying out for him. “C’mon, baby, wanna feel you. Wanna taste you all fucking day, stay down there for the rest of my fucking life if you wanted me to.”

She almost laughed, for she’d been thinking nearly the same thing. But she couldn’t laugh, not when he was moving just like that and she swore the power was coming back on with how bright the stars flared in her eyes. She garbled out half his name, the syllables sounding foreign on her tongue. “Wanna come,” she whined.

“I know, baby, I know.” His voice took on a deeper edge, dark and sharp like obsidian. “I wanna make you come, too, wanna know this pussy so well you don’t have a goddamn choice but to come when I want you to.” The words blazed through her every vein like a wildfire, all-consuming and inevitable. “Get you to come on my tongue, too, so only I get every fucking drop of you. I’ll never share you. Never.”

“Mine,” she breathed. She felt that whole-body lurching sensation that typically preceded her more devastating orgasms. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he vowed to her. “Only yours.” He kissed her, hot and filthy and fucking delicious.

She whined, her muscles tensing around his fingers to tease at what’s soon to come.

“That’s it, baby. C’mon—oh, fuck,” he groaned as her back arched off the bed towards him. He brought his mouth down to suck at her breasts, tonguing at her nipple between declarations. “Attagirl, that’s my girl, good fucking girl, come for me so pretty.”

She was pretty sure she had shed a few goddamn tears, between all the praise and the overwhelming orgasm he gave to her. This, too, was another language of him to learn. She wanted more. She wanted to be fluent in his desire, too. She kissed him back as best she could, though it was all very messy and wet and unrefined. Her ears were ringing, and she couldn’t fucking move even as he carefully withdrew his fingers from her. She could only watch as he brought them to his lips, first licking the pad of his thumb, and then sucking his two gleaming, wet fingers into his mouth.

And then there was his other hand, moving over his cock in harsh, quick motions. His self-pleasure looked almost violent, and even in her post-orgasm haze, she found herself flushing even hotter at the obscenity of it all. He’d gone from sacred to profane in an instant, a heathen wildman seeking to—

A groan wrenched its way from his throat, declared to the air a moment before hot splashes of his come striped over her belly, even up to her breasts. She felt marked, claimed for him alone. She reveled in the feeling, depraved as it was. She moaned for him, tugging him into relaxation once he finished coming and only shook in place, the aftershocks hitting him hard.

She kissed all over his face, just babbling whatever came to mind. “Fuck, you’re so good, Qimir. So good to me, I love—I loved watching you come,” she whispered, her words coming quicker after her little blunder. With any luck, he didn’t catch the slip-up.

He melted against her side, their slightly sweaty bodies curling together in peace. He said nothing, more contented to simply lay beside her and melt into the coverlet while she all but vibrated with energy. His hand lay limp against her thigh, curled slightly as if to protect her clean skin from the mess on his palms.

She kissed his forehead and got up for them, navigating through her pitch-black apartment with ease of familiarity so she could wet a washcloth and return to him. He hadn’t moved except to roll over on his back, stretched out across the bed.

Yeah, he’s definitely not going to get any personal space in this bed if I have anything to say about it.

He made a noise as she started to clean herself up in the moonlight. He frowned, moving to take the cloth from her and do it for her, but she shook her head. “I’m okay, you just relax.”

He still pouted, but did as she told him to. The small thrill of power whenever that happened always took her off-guard, but she didn’t mind.

She cleaned off her thighs and pussy first before wiping his come off of her belly.

“Did I miss anything?” she asked once she was pretty sure she got all of it.

He shook his head, still mute—but not concerningly so.

Osha stepped closer, acclimated to the darkness enough to see him. She folded the cloth into a clean square and knelt by his side, very gently wiping down his face while he stayed obediently still for her. She followed with his hands, then his own belly, and when it came to the rest—

He took the cloth from her then, thank god.

She pulled on some sleep clothes for herself, and only after she had did he roll into motion, slinking to the floor beside her. He would sprinkle many kisses against her shoulder between stretches, and thank goodness for her sleepiness, because she would have been giggling and tittering at each one otherwise.

If they didn’t whisper goodnight, then that was their secret.

Osha shouldn’t have been doing this shit again.

The first time was bad enough, with Mae just ten feet away in the shower as Osha went through her phone. This time was worse, going through Qimir’s phone while he figured out lunch.

“Can I give Pip some turkey?” he called to her. She nearly fumbled his phone onto the floor.

“Yeah, but not too much! Not even if he asks nicely.”

She wasn’t sweating as she scrolled through his texts, but it was a near enough thing. Seriously, does he save any numbers besides mine?

And then one caught her eye.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: What were you doing in Khofar?

A quick peek at the thread made Osha 99% certain that this was Idise. So she put the number in her phone and waited until he was gone to send a single text.

O: I think we need to talk. You said there were things I should know, and I want to know them.

Idise responded with a place and time.

CHAPTER 20

[fink0680]

Does anyone else think being a ghoul would srsly not be that bad?

I mean personally, I find my nose really damn annoying so I wouldn’t miss it all that much. My allergies would be gone too

I have zero desire to ever reproduce so I wouldn’t miss that part a single bit either

I could literally eat like shit and the effects wouldn’t be nearly as bad

I don’t particularly like society anyways so wouldn’t mind just travelling with maybe a few other people forever

Above all else, I’d totally try eating some radium

I mean ik eventually I’d lose my marbles but who caressssss

[themsource]

Crime N(ever) Pays

Rating: M Pairing: UF!Sans/Frisk TW: Smoking

Sans frowned as he searched a pocket of one of the many basketball shorts littering his bedroom floor, his crimson colored eyelights glancing up at his ceiling with growing irritation as he dug around only to feel a few crumpled receipts and random G lining the inside.

“ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me…” He grumbled as he threw the shorts down and went over to his dresser to search his barren sock drawer.

And of course, even that was empty too.

He slammed it shut. “the fuck does a guy have ta do to get a damned smoke around here!?”

Sighing, Sans ran a hand over the top of his skull. He could have sworn he’d bought more than one pack last week, three at most the last time he’d gone out shopping on his day off, but from how it was looking he hadn’t.

Unless he was finally losing his mind.

of course i’d lose my marbles after gettin’ out of the underground… just my fuckin’ luck…

Letting out a huff he stomped out of his room, not bothering to hide his frustration as he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him. Predictably his brother’s voice echoed out from the kitchen as he made his way grumpily down the stairs, “DON’T SLAM THE DOORS! I JUST REPLACED THE FRAMES!”

Sans rolled his eyelights as he ignored him.

“i’m goin’ ta the store! be back in a sec!”

“DAMNIT SANS, DINNER IS ALMOST READY! I SWEAR IF YOU AREN’T BACK IN TEN MINUTES I’LL—”

The rest of his brother’s diatribe was forgotten as it faded in the background, Sans’ eyelights honing in on and dilating as they locked on Frisk seated on the couch. She’d come over to spend the weekend with them as was tradition since they came topside six years ago, the skeleton brothers being her second favorite friends to visit aside from Alphys and Mettaton, and she never missed a visit much to Sans’ amusement and Papyrus’ joy.

But the fact she was there wasn’t what drew the older skeleton brother’s attention.

It was what was dangling from his lips, piping red at the tip as it burned crisp and hot before a gentle plume of white smoke drifted up into the air.

At first, Sans was shocked.

Ever since she turned eighteen Frisk had been trying more daring things and sampling more questionable vices, experimenting, as all teenagers and young adults should. However seeing her dare to do that in his and Papyrus’ house was mind blowing. 

Frisk knew how Papyrus could get, he didn’t like anything questionable going on in his home, especially one of the habits he found the most deplorable: smoking. Sans actively had to make sure he stepped outside every time he wanted to light up. It was the very reason he’d even built their doorless balcony, as a place he could go without worry about upsetting his bro and to avoid being an open target for other monsters back when they were still a hundred feet in the dirt.

But then he quickly became amused as he smirked at her.

Sans went to make a cheeky comment about Papyrus’ latest gardening hobby and how that might tie into a pretty little plot with the Frisk’s name on it, before he narrowed his sockets.

There was a gold band with the MTT insignia on the filter.

…was that one of his cigarettes?

Frisk glanced up at him just as his eyelights flickered up, and their gazes locked.

A sweat drop ran the side of her cheek.

this little shit!

Well, she wasn’t so little anymore, in fact she was taller than him now by about an inch, but that didn’t change the fact that stealing his smokes was such a bratty move he wanted to literally bend her over his knee and spank her.

…his eyelights drifted down to her small chest, perky beneath her sweater dress despite its modest size.

On second thought, doing that probably wouldn’t have been the best idea. He knew the moment he felt any supple part of her press against him he would more than likely try to push the envelope. It was no secret how attractive she’d gotten or well developed. 

Sans was a man, a skeleton monster, but still a man, and he’d noticed a long time ago now before many others had, the surprising and captivating changes Frisk had gone through.

Admittedly, he couldn’t help still feeling tempted to teach her a lesson though. One in a way that he knew he would enjoy the longer he stared at her and took in her beautiful figure and increasingly worried and guilty expression.

While Sans was feeling more and more tempted, Frisk was becoming more nervous.

She didn’t like that cold and calculating look in his gaze.

“is that mine?” He drawled, his voice a dark and menacing pitch as his eyelights gave a soul piercing pulse of maliciousness with how they brightened and dimmed.

Frisk instantly regretted her actions.

She hadn’t seen that look since the underground when they’d first met, his voice harsher and words acidic.

Truth be told, Frisk hadn’t wanted to steal his cigarettes, but she’d been just so curious to try them, and she’d known both Toriel and Asgore wouldn’t have allowed her to buy them when she was just seventeen.

‘It’d only be one cigarette’, she’d promised herself back then, and then one had turned into two, and then three. Before she knew it she’d been stealing Sans’ packs on the regular and had developed a habit by the time her birthday rolled around a week later.

Not a habit really… she didn’t smoke every day, maybe twice a week, but she did start hoarding when she did take them.

And this time she had to admit that maybe she’d been a bit too greedy, otherwise Sans wouldn’t have come down so unexpectedly to go get more and seen her. She knew this was typically when he’d be out on the balcony, he always went for a smoke before dinner, and she’d ruined the nightly ritual.

Five minutes was all she usually took, and apparently all she needed to get caught.

It was just bad timing that Papyrus was currently in the middle of having the bathroom cleaned and she’d been forced to try and sneak it in the living room while the younger brother stopped to make the evening meal.

Frisk would've gone outside to smoke, but she knew that she’d have gotten busted for trying to go out in the snow based on suspicion alone. The brothers knew she hated the cold. It was why she always wore sweaters and the like.

She swallowed thickly the longer Sans pinned her in place with his glare. Frisk did NOT want Sans to get angry. He still scared her to this day with his temper even if it wasn’t nearly as bad as all those years ago.

“U-um…” She pulled the cigarette away, trying to speak through a lungful, “Sans I—”

Frisk didn’t get a chance to speak and explain herself.

Sans was across the room in one moment, and right in front of her the next, his hand cupping her chin. 

Right before he leaned in and captured her mouth with his.

Frisk jolted, the ridges of his grin coming down to lock with her lips in the facsimile of a kiss as he held her in place and pried her pliant lips easily apart with his tongue in a single brush. A whimper almost slipped out but died where it rose within her filled chest.

He stole her breath, literally.

Sans gently drew the air from her lungs, as if a caress, with a single soft and deep inhale.

Frisk was frozen, her heart hammering as her cheeks flushed and her eyes opened to reveal their golden hues in stunned silence.

Sans’s SOUL gave a spine-tingling thrum at the sight. 

Frisk rarely opened her eyes, if ever. How she managed to navigate with them closed he never knew, and had often thrown it up to the fact that she carried more magic within her than the average human nowadays, allowing her to see without seeing.

Those honey colored irises did more to him than the kiss did.

He pulled back, his hand still cupping her chin as he brushed a gloved thumb along the side of her jaw and slowly blew out a breath, exhaling the smoke that’d been shared between them with another fiery pulse of his eyelights.

Sans' tone was rough, an octave lower from the tainted air with thickened accent, “shouldn’ smoke sweetheart, it’s bad fer ya.”

She was still frozen, locked in place like a statue, as he casually released her chin to reach down into her sweater’s right pocket and pulled out one of the two missing cigarette packs. With a glance he saw there was only one missing from it.

He was willing to bet she’d already smoked the other one.

With a hum he straightened and tapped the pack against his palm, causing one of the sticks to shoot up right before he plucked it free with his teeth as he pulled out his lighter and lit it. Sans took a deep drag and closed his sockets, savoring it.

It was relieving, but not as satisfying as it’d been when he’d stolen Frisk’s.

He glanced down at her as he blew out another billowing cloud through his sharp teeth. 

“stay away from my smokes, capiche?”

Frisk could only nod, her hands trembling as she looked down and timidly bit her lip.

cute.

“hey boss! c’mere, somethin’ i wanna show ya!”

Frisk jolted, and gasped in shock and betrayal as Sans took another drag and filled the air with more gray tinged vapor, before abruptly shortcutting to his balcony and leaving her to her fate.

“WHAT IS IT SANS—”

Sans leaned against the wall of the house and chuckled as soon as he heard the realization and offence in Papyrus' voice.

“FRISK! HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKING?! IN MY LIVING ROOM!?”

Sans glanced up at the starry sky as he listened to the chaos inside, his thoughts all circling back to how Frisk’s lips had felt against his. He secretly hoped she did steal another pack from him.

He welcomed her to try.

[thehistoriangirl]

Until Our Secrets Drift Us Apart [7]

I apologize because I'm rusty after taking so long in posting a new part of this story, but I hope I will catch the rhythm soon :D

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Modern AU/Marriage of Convenience--- 3.1K ---SFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Summary: Upon the surprising death of the CEO of Daxer Corp., the battle for the presidential chair began with unexpected violence. Threaten to lose everything you’ve been working on during your entire life; it’s time you must find a desperate solution to grasp the control over your part of the emporium, and even your own freedom. Which better idea than solidifying your subsidiary's future than ally with the rising tech company, HexTech? And oh, what a special type of alliance it would be…  

Tags: Not-So-Forced Proximity| Marriage of Convenience| Strangers to Lovers| Drama & Romance| Eventual Smut| Domestic Fluff| Post-Wedding|  Not Really Unrequited Love| Fake Dating| Eventual Happy Ending

Chapter Summary: The hunt for your mother's lost will hasn't ended, but Viktor is there to give you words of comfort when you need them--and perhaps even more than that. If you're willing to take it.

7: What Blooms in Winter

Mrs. Emma Quivar was all business when you crossed the spotless threshold of her office outlined in stainless iron and black marble.

Gone were the days where she would greet you with a kiss on the cheek while visiting your mother for business; but you weren’t the same shy teenager wishing to take the least space possible in the enormous penthouse your mother called home anymore.

You still remembered your mother’s words when Emma gestured for you to sit down, with her stubbornly chastising you to erase the word ‘friend’ while regarding her business partners. At the time, you considered it like another of your mother’s quirks, but now you had understood it, a tad too late, maybe.

“My child, hello, hello,” Emma said, her hands gesturing away for you to sit across from her. “I didn’t think you’d have a lovebird tucked away from the eyes of the family.” She chuckled, her gaze miniaturized by her glasses, and yet still piercing to rummage your thoughts. “Your mother would have loved to know about him, that way she wouldn’t have left thinking you were all alone.”

You doubted your mother would care for such a thing if that would’ve happened.

She decided not to marry for a reason, despite the countless business proposals laid over her desk. Just as she thought that there were only business partners instead of friends, she thought so of romantic relationships, carrying in the memories of the Daxer’s tradition of marrying by sole mutual convenience instead of real feelings. Those were frivolities that not even the real frivolities of wealth and power could meet all the time.

Or else—that was something no Daxer was inclined to even consider.

“I see you have read the news,” you muttered. Or perhaps someone had let her know.

“I wonder how you kept it hidden from your mother.” Her black eyes pierced you as Quivar looked at you for the first time, adjusting her glasses to look away from the computer. “You only work and go home. Where did you meet him? He’s… somewhat attractive, I’d say.”

A scoff was about to break free. You were too tired from your family trip for these games.

“Do you keep a copy of my mother’s will? I need it.” Emma was a placeholder in the stock bureau, not much, but she would be interested in how the fight for the CEO position will develop. I know you were appointed with one copy.

Just as the other two ex-business partners of your mother, who preferred to bet on the more obvious winner of the competition, Mathieu.

"Hmmm. And how much will you value a thing such as that?" Emma said, with a hand on her heart. “I held your mother’s friendship very close to my heart.”

It was always about taking. Demand with an unfair deal—and you were also guilty of this, asking Viktor to fake a marriage with you, dragging him into this chaos for a menial reward.

Spend all those upcoming years with you when he could go on and live his life, find certainty instead of more questions after every not-so-accidental touch, the moments right after separating away from a kiss.

Your eyes hardened. “What do you want?”

She pointed at her computer with a sigh. “HexTech is such an ever-growing enterprise; from industrial mechanics to more specialized fields. It has a bright future." Emma smiled. "I hope some of its light can be cast upon me."

Your lips parted, the answer surprising you both.

“No.” Words stern and cold. “I don’t own HexTech, I can’t integrate a new shareholder without consulting it with the board.” Most importantly, consulting it with Viktor and Jayce. It was their dream, after all. You didn’t have any right to tamper with it. “I can give a percentage of my company, FireBird Security, but HexTech is off-limits.”

Emma crossed her arms, the red blazer she wore getting all wrinkled. “Why is that? Your husband won’t approve, by any chance?” She said, her eyes twinkling with mockery. “I thought he loved you dearly.”

“I love him dearly, that’s why I’m not doing anything behind his back.”

The silence hung heavy between you two, both your and her eyes widened,  lips slightly ajar at the sudden outburst.

Your heart picked up speed, skin got hotter, almost prickling with shame. What was that? Standing up with a jump, you decided to cut the meeting short as now it was clear that Emma wasn't on your side anymore—if she even was at the beginning.

Emma clicked her tongue. “You’re still very naïve,” she told you. “To think that man wouldn’t have accepted already if given the chance of being in your place.”

You conjured Viktor's golden eyes shining like molten gold against the evening sun, the chestnut locks of his hair moving with the soft breeze that smelled like grass and summer flowers as you cradled his head on your lap.

You chuckled, amused at Emma’s words, thinking that they had gotten out Léonie’s first, echoed in this office as your aunt poisoned her mind. 

“Say hello to my aunt once you reunite again,” you stated toward her, your eyes boring holes into her face as you glared at her from above your shoulder before closing the door with a slam.

It was so easy for Léonie to move across society picking her best moves while you struggled to even get a foot in this place, which one each day you were convinced wasn’t for you.

Would the voices that whispered usurper ever cease? Even if you got to sit in the CEO's chair? Because you could imagine them bouncing, reverberating with an endless echo inside such a big and quiet office.

What would have been of you if your mother had never adopted you?

For a moment, a childish part of you imagined you working in a suburban area of this bustling city, crossing paths with Viktor once by crossing a street, with either of you looking back.

You couldn't know if the strange sensation located in your chest was sadness, or the eerily unfamiliar sense of relief.

The cozy apartment smelled like coffee when you opened the door, a warm air coming from the swinging door against the chill of the arriving autumn outside.

Viktor was hunched over the coffee table in the living room, papers scattered everywhere alongside a pen that had exploded, stains of blue ink shining against the lamp nearby. Rio was nuzzled against some blankets, deeply asleep.

His brows frowning in focus relaxed at the sight of you, his golden gaze turned toward your figure as you were taking your shoes off.

He smiled. “Hello,” he said, the pen held in his hands clicking in a rapid rhythm as he flapped it between his fingers. “I made coffee, please feel free to drink some.” Viktor chuckled. “It wouldn’t do good to, eh, drink it all by myself.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking off the coat that now was too warm inside the cocoon of the apartment. “I think I’ll take some tea, though.” You tried to smile when he looked at you. “I need something… relaxing.”

Viktor settled down the papers then, taking the handle of his cane tucked in the armrest. “Did your meeting go badly?” he muttered, standing up to walk toward you.

You nodded, trying to curve your lips upward without much success. You didn't wish to burden him with your problems—despite how much you had dragged him already. Sometimes such thoughts kept you up at night, looking at the dim golden light of the living room lamp on way past 1 AM. And you couldn't help but wonder if, in those hours when the silence ate you away, he was regretting his choice.

“I’ll make you a hot chocolate, hmm?” Viktor was already walking toward the kitchen.

“You don’t have to,” you heard yourself stutter. “I’m sure you’re busy.” Just like you, he always was.

Viktor gestured away. “Don’t worry about it. Jayce always tells me I have to take small breaks.” He looked at you with a little smile. “Maybe I’ll start following his advice.”

“With some luck, not all his advice,” you mumbled, which made him chuckle.

“If you think his advice is… questionable, you should wait to hear mine,” Viktor told you, an eyebrow raised.

“Please do tell,” you said, with him helping to pull out a stool in front of the breakfast bar.

“Well, I think—"

You decided the bad idea of opening a package of cookies that were lying there, the sound waking the cockatoo up, who squeaked “Viktor!” before flying to pose next to you in the breakfast bar, her little head bobbing side to side as she looked at your fingers sheepishly taking a cookie out.

“No, Rio. We’ve talked about that,” Viktor scolded her.

You raised the cookie toward the bird. “Here,” you told her in the softest voice you could manage.

Rio lounged at it, breaking the surface with its beak. But then she noticed that you weren’t pulling the treat away, only rotating it so she could bite into it again.

It could be that Viktor was surveilling her, but Rio started to bite slower, her head gently tilting toward the cookie. Even so, you gave Viktor the remaining core of it so he could feed her so close to his fingers. You could still remember the hot pain of the bird’s beak.

“Say thank you, Rio,” Viktor said once the cookie had gone into her stomach.

The bird flapped her wings, flying away toward Viktor’s room.

“Rio!”

"It isn't necessary," you said, although amused by your (fake) husband's relationship with his pet. In other circumstances, you would've joked that Rio was that adopted daughter reticent of trusting her new stepmother. "Don't worry about it."

Rio squeaked, returning triumphant over the breakfast bar. She wobbled to step in front of you, dropping a sunflower seed near your hand and then flying away as quickly as she had arrived.

You looked at the seed. “This is for you.” You held it between your fingers, offering it to Viktor.

“Oh no, no.” Viktor was smiling, gently wrapping his hand over yours with shy fingers, a touch barely as light as the morning sun cast over your face in early spring. “That’s for you.” He chuckled. “A little gift.”

You felt his warm fingers beneath your hand slightly cold from just being outside, your eyes drawn to his in a gentle motion that still made your heart jump. “Maybe I should plant it, and see what blooms from it,” you muttered.

“I have a little pot,” he answered in the same tone, his hand still hovering over yours.

“Then it’ll be like our little child?” You couldn’t stop yourself from saying, feeling stupid as soon as the words were gone from your mouth and into the world.

Instead of hearing a mocking laugh, or to feel his awkward gaze, Viktor smiled and nodded. "Don't let Rio hear this but… yes," he said, leaning against you to mutter such a secret. "And something tells me that it will be as pretty as its mother.”

You giggled like a fool, feeling your face starting to feel hot.

It wasn't impossible not to take him, the way his face was highlighted by the dim golden light from the living room against the bright white bulb in the kitchen, how his eyes diverged from your eyes toward your lips.

Your fingers grabbed the edge of the bar to lean against him, closing the seemingly abysmal distance between each other’s lips.

Always taking.

Today, though, you wished to give.

Shyness tried to overcome your bold move, redirecting the motion of your lips to pose toward his cheek instead, in a mere fleeting peck. Yet, your resolution was higher, closing your eyes shut with force as if you were about to jump off a cliff.

He tasted like coffee, the motion of his open lips slow and unsure, scared you’d pull him away after realizing your mistake.

Though in this moment you could barely register the action like so. It felt… right, something supposed to be. And even if part of you stayed thrilled at the thought, the other was terrified.

Viktor's hand slipped into the curve of your hip, his fingers finding soft and aching skin, wishing for his touch without realization.

If you’d lived in a lie for the last couple of months, what would Viktor consider your relationship to be? Especially with so many blurry lines starting to conjoin and erase in unknown patterns to try and figure out the result—would it be chaos or art?

One moment, you were still in the kitchen with the purr of the milk starting to boil, and the other you were standing at the edge of the restaurant rooftop, with the wind blowing cold at your back and Viktor's warmth hugging you closer, both trying to take you in and to cover you from the harshness of the world.

Who knew what else you'd done if the stove wasn’t starting to hiss in anger from the abandonment of the milk that was threatening with spilling out the pot.

Viktor muttered a curse that you couldn't listen to, not between the cacophony of your beating heart and the sounds of your obnoxiously loud breath.

He went to pour a tablet of chocolate inside the milk, stirring the contents until the forming foam went away. You stayed sitting across from him on the breakfast bar, playing with the little seed inside your sweaty palms.

“Um…” you said, cringing at the sound of your voice in such a quiet room. "You said you have a piece of advice for me?"

Viktor’s cheeks were bright pink, eyes glued to the hot chocolate in the making.

“Eh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Well, my advice may sound bland, but I think you can make good use of it. I’ve noticed that we have more in common than… ah—than we might initially thought.”

You blinked, it wasn’t at all surprising. You barely saw each other between the long journeys from work, the only sign of companionship being the slits of light filtering beneath the bedroom doors at night.

“Which is why I struggle with asking for help,” Viktor muttered, taking two cups from the cupboard and pouring steaming hot cocoa inside them. “Which is why I would like to offer you my help in anything you could… eh, need.”

You were about to protest, the phrase, ‘you don’t have to’ almost slipping out your lips.

“I don’t do it out of obligation,” Viktor stated, giving you one of the cups and settling in a seat across from yours. “I mean it.”

That was the scary part, because if he did—then what?

“I… I don’t know if I can give you that back. What you’re giving me.”

“I don’t seek retribution,” Viktor called your name, hands hovering as if trying to land atop yours.

“That’s unfair,” you said, thinking about all the passing deals and contracts you’d done in the past, all the infinite pile you’d do for the rest of your life, and how to think of Viktor like just a passing signature between all those pages made you feel.

“Perhaps.” He nodded. “But I won’t pressure you. I know what was getting myself into, and I abide by it, by all of it.”

It was the first time in the day that you smiled, lips curved and with your eyes crinkling close in half-moons.

“Thank you, Viktor.” His words had stirred an idea.

He copied your smile, the glimpse of his teeth glistening against the white bulb of the kitchen lamp. “Of course,” he simply said, sitting idly and silent until you had drunk all the hot chocolate and waiting for you to excuse yourself toward your bedroom.

You'd wish to say that night your dreams came easier, but instead, you felt your thoughts going in circles as fast as a hurricane's, pouring rain of ideas and possible paths to enter between the storm that was starting to form ahead.

The next day, Viktor and you took the day off due to a sudden snowfall that had covered the roads back to the metropolis.

You were ready to start with the preparations of your upcoming plan, yet alas, you knew you needed to visit someone in person to strike ideas first, especially after all the time you spent apart.

He knocked on your bedroom to give you a small plant pot on the side of your hand right after having breakfast together, the ambiance still charged with the unprompted kiss from last night.

“You can use soil from the plants on the balcony," Viktor told you, his cane tapping the floor. “I will go to buy some more later. Ah—yes, I put some of Rio’s seed peels at the bottom, like compost.”

Thanking him, you waited to hear his bedroom door close before emerging toward the living room, scooting to see if Rio was free before opening the balcony door, shivers running down your spine with the sudden freezing air blowing across your face.

“It’s too cold to put you outside,” you said to no one in particular, because the seed was inside your bedroom, over the nightstand. The sky was pure grey, and white snow starting to get dirty with the kids and the cars as the suburbs started to stir with life.

Then, you settled the little pot by the window, making a small hole in the middle with your finger, plopping the little, lonely seed inside, and then lovingly covering it with the black soil that was starting to make your fingers grow cold. It was humid already, so you let it be.

You hoped the plant would survive the inclement weather, that perhaps, once it grew bigger, you could get it another, bigger pot.

The only thing you could do was wait—perhaps the most terrifying thing in a world you were convinced would fail you.