#I'm just trying to focus and it's all for not

[smutoperator]

Yoga Classes

Kim Jisoo, Kim Seolhyun x Male Reader

Part of Legends series

Tags: A2M, (some) acrobatic positions, anal, birthday sex, butt plugs, cameltoe, creampie, cum on face and abs, (lots of) facefucking, hole switcheroo, massage, meaty pussy, noona, ripped pants, sweaty, (lots of) squirting, threesome, twerking, wandering hands, yoga instructor

Word count: 6723

Jisoo arrived at your studio for a regular yoga session, wearing her favorite pink top and pants with black streaks combo. "Get there; we'll start soon," you said, directing her to the yoga mat.

"Open your arms, now inhale, then exhale," you commanded Jisoo in what was so far a very typical yoga session, her stretching her arms and getting herself prepared for the year that was just about to start. "Happy birthday," you said to her. "Glad you remembered," she answered.

As Jisoo made her yoga moves, you couldn't help but notice how hot her body was in those clothes. As she kept doing a praying pose and moving her body, you slid your hands from behind, touching her boobs while doing so.

"Perfect, your chest is moving exactly in the right way," you said, groping Jisoo's tits. She felt a bit awkward as she had never done that, but assumed it was just an incident. "Relax, relax," you said.

Your wandering hands kept touching Jisoo's body. She started to feel there was something different happening in today's session but also enjoyed the touch you provided in her chest and other erogenous zones. "That's good; keep that balance," you said," shaking her tits a bit.

"Spread your legs," you told Jisoo, reaching between them and touching her right in her pubic area. You could feel her meaty pussy that had shown under countless cameltoes when pressed against her tight yoga pants.

"You've got some nice and tight muscles out there," you said, pressing Jisoo's pubic area. "Hmmm, are you sure, coach?" she asked, feeling increasingly awkward. "Yes, Jisoo noona, stay focused," you answered.

"Bend over," you ordered Jisoo as she planted her hands and feet on the floor, staying on all fours. You started giving a massage to her butt. "Keep those glutes up, nice and firm," you commanded as you ran her hands all over her ass.

"Don't move, hold yourself in that position, keep focused," you told Jisoo as you shook her ass. "Don't get distracted," you continued, hitting her ass with a spank, making her moan. You then started humping your body against hers. "Stay focused," you told her as your crotch hit her glutes.

"You look so good in that position; now get down to the floor," you told Jisoo as you started massaging her shoulders and ran your hands over her body before moving down and hitting her ass a few more times. "Keep your focus," you said between spankings on her ass.

Jisoo opened her mouth in awe as she could feel your cock bulging under your pants just inches away from her face. "Don't get distracted," you kept reminding her, but she couldn't help but marvel over it. You went down and kept massaging her ass. "Flex those muscles," you told her.

"Loosen your body up, shake it off," you told Jisoo, who obliged, giving you a perfect view of her perky tits bouncing under her top. You made her do a stretching exercise, landing her head on the yoga mat while telling her to slowly open her legs while upside down.

"Coach, I don't know if I can do it; I'm not as flexible as Lisa," Jisoo said as her legs were spread at 180 degrees. Indeed, that was more difficult for her, especially as she had just entered her 30s, but that's exactly the type of effort that you love to see. "Don't be afraid; you're doing it well," you tell her.

You had a perfect view of Jisoo's meaty pussy now, enjoying the wet stain right in her pubic area. You could tell from it that she was wearing no panties, which was driving you insane. You give it a little sniff while trying to pretend it was just a regular move. "Stay there; you look wonderful," you said to Jisoo, touching her abs and making her moan as your face was right between her legs.

"That's perfect; now lay down and arch your body," you told Jisoo, looking under her body while she stretched it, admiring her great ass. "You've got a great curvature out here," you said in a very double meaning. Jisoo's yoga pants slipped a bit, meaning you could see the top of her cheeks.

Jisoo couldn't hold herself in that position for long, falling down on the yoga mat. "Are you ok?" you asked her. "Yeah, I'm just really sore; maybe I'm getting up there in age; I'm no longer in my 20s," she said. "It's fine, just tell me where you're sore; we can work this out," you replied to her.

"Flip around," you told Jisoo. "Is it right here?" you said, once again touching her ass. You poured some cold oil on her back and her butt, making Jisoo moan as you continued to massage her glute. "Is this part of the session, coach?" she asked. "Not really, but I really like my girls to be in the best possible shape," you answered.

"Put your ass up," you told Jisoo as the massage continued. "May I pull your pants down? I think I need to check under it," you tell Jisoo. "Alright, coach," she answers. Normally Jisoo would deny such a move, but she really trusts you a lot. You keep pouring oil in her bare ass.

"Shake it for me," you tell Jisoo as she bounces her ass. You massage her cheeks, unveiling her tight butthole, before you push her pants back up. You massage her legs all the way to her feet, playing with it a bit. "You good?" you ask Jisoo. "A little better, but still sore," she answers. You then put Jisoo on her knees, pouring oil on her chest and massaging it. "Coach, slow down," she says, but you do the exact opposite.

"COACH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Jisoo screams as you rip her top in half and pop her cute tits out. "I'm setting your body free, Jisoo noona. you're so beautiful, and you don't need those clothes hiding your beauty" you say.

You play with Jisoo's tits. "Set yourself free; you're entering your 30s; it's time for you to enjoy new experiences; inhale and exhale with me," you say as you grope her boobs, and she enjoys it. "AHHHHHHHH," she moans as you spank them a little bit and pinch her nipples.

You put Jisoo on all fours and spank her ass again, making her moan. "Stay in that position," you say just as you rip her yoga pants. "COACH, WHAT THE FUCK? HOLY SHIT!" Jisoo curses. "Come on, I know you have many of these in your closet, I don't think someone who made millions in one of the most famous groups in Korea cares so much about some silly yoga pants. Now just relax and follow me" you say to her.

You grab Jisoo's meaty pussy and massage her folds, spanking her ass much harder now. "Don't lose your focus; keep your concentration, good girl," you keep telling her. "AHHHHHHH," Jisoo screams as her ass gets hit.

You pull your cock out and hump it against Jisoo's butt cheeks. "UHHHHHHHH," she screams, shocked when you insert your tip in her butthole. "COACH, WHAT THE HELL?" she says. "Jisoo noona, you have a really tight butthole for a girl your age," you tell her. "I'm not that into anal, coach," she says. "Well, it's never too late to try, is it?" you say.

"Oh my God," Jisoo moans as your cock slides deeper in her ass. "Relax," you assure her, placing your thumb in her asshole too. "OH WOW, COACH, YOU'RE SO BIG IN MY ASS," she says.

"Let me spread it open; your fears of getting fucked in the ass will be gone once I'm done with it," you tell her. "OH MY GOD, AHHHHHHH," Jisoo moans. It's been a while since she had such a big cock in her ass. "All the way in," you tell her, fucking her ass on all fours and reaching deeper. "Stay relaxed; just let me go in and out of that tight ass," you tell her as her anal walls keep tightening around your cock.

"Guide me, coach, fuck my ass, oh my God," Jisoo pleads as you increase your speed a bit and she spreads her cheeks. "Such a tight girl," you tell her, taking your pants completely off to push harder inside her butt. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD," Jisoo keeps screaming, you grabbing her top from behind for better grip.

"Taste it," you tell Jisoo, pulling out and leaving your cock into her mouth for her to savor her sweaty ass. "Get in a praying position and worship my big cock," you tell her as you fuck Jisoo's beautiful face, and she looks like a devout whore to your cock, your balls hitting her chin as she chokes on your dick and gags.

You fuck Jisoo's face harder once she gags on your cock for the first time, then shove your balls in her mouth. "You're such a great student, worshipping the coach's cock," you say to her, handing her another rough skull-fucking as a reward. "Stay focused; choke on this dick," you say as you push Jisoo's face against your crotch and slap your cock in it, turning her beautiful face into nothing but an outlet to please your cock.

"Get back on all fours, you tell Jisoo, who obliges. "AHHHHH," she screams as your cock pops out of her mouth. "You gave me the perfect lube I needed," you say to her, going back in her ass with much ease this time with her saliva all over your cock leading to an easy slide inside her anal hole. "Oh yes, yes, yes, fuck me like that coach," Jisoo pleads as your penetration feels much more enjoyable this time. "Spread your cheeks," you tell her as you push deeper and deeper in her ass.

"Those muscles need some extra massage; just relax and let me do it," you tell Jisoo, pulling out and placing your fingers up her butthole for some extra massaging before going back in and clapping your balls against her cheeks. "Oh yeah, fuck, fuck, fuck," she moans, you grabbing her ripped top and pants for better grip. "Put your face down and your ass up," you say to her as Jisoo reaches to her pussy and starts fingering it as you fuck her ass harder and harder, and soon you discover what her meaty hole is capable of.

"SHITTTT," Jisoo curses as she squirts all over the yoga mat. "Bad girl, I didn't tell you to squirt already," you tell her. "Sorry, coach, I can't control myself," she tries to explain. "Well, let me punish you then," you say.

Your cock easily penetrates Jisoo's meaty pussy. "Such a fucking loose, squirting hole," you tell her. "Yes, I know, Jisoo noona loves cock in her loose pussy," she tells you. And you can't tell she's not lying as her walls quickly wrap hard around your cock, and you fuck her hole hard, slowly building a wet puddle of juices inside Jisoo's cunt.

But you aren't going to give up easily, using the juices from Jisoo's pussy deposits in your cock to slide better in her asshole. "You've got great potential to be an anal slut; let me teach you," you tell her. "Oh my God, yes, yes, yes, fuck my ass hard, coach," Jisoo pleads as she gets more and more assimilated to your cock in her ass. "See how easy it is?" you ask her.

"Oh my God, you're stretching me so good," Jisoo says as you move your cock to penetrate her asshole in a vertical position. "AHHHHHHH, FUCKKK!" She can't stop screaming, which only makes you push harder in her asshole, fucking her balls deep. "Don't move," you tell her, using her asshole for your pleasure and then switching to her pussy to do the same. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she moans.

Jisoo gets brutally analyzed, screaming at each thrust you give her butthole. "Shut up, slut," you tell her, quickly pulling out and fucking her face hard to block her from screaming. "Take it deep, as far as you can," you say to her, making her choke on your cock as spit drops out of her chin.

You sit on the floor, and Jisoo prepares to sit on your cock, but you have different plans. "Straight down, dive that filthy mouth on it," you tell her. Jisoo obliges as you start pounding her throat from down low while she spreads her legs. "Oh yeah, good girl, choke on that cock; you're learning it so well," you say.

"Now you can sit on it, good girl," you tell Jisoo as she impales her meaty cunt on your big cock. "Let's make you sweat and squirt," you tell her, letting Jisoo bounce on your cock as her ass hits your crotch. "Harder," you instruct her with a little spank in her ass. "Am I doing it right, coach?" she asks.

"Yes, now let's do it in your ass," you say to Jisoo, moving her body a little sideways as your cock quickly slides in her asshole once again. Jisoo bounces on it, struggling much more than in her pussy. "OH MY GOD, HOLY FUCK, IT'S SO MASSIVE," she says, but keeps squatting on your dick regardless. "See, you can be a great anal slut," you tell her as Jisoo bounces faster and faster.

"Let me give you another test," you say to Jisoo as you start pushing your cock upwards against her butthole. "OHHHHHHH, AHHHHHHHH," she moans, a little out of breath and getting very sweaty and messy as your cock leaves your mark in her once tight ass. "GOD DAMN IT, YOUR COCK IS SO BIG, COACH," she says as your balls slap against her cheeks and she gets pounded so hard her body floats in the air.

"Yes, that's what I like, good girl, show me how slutty you are and keep bouncing that ass, Jisoo noona," you tell her. Jisoo obliges and suddenly is twerking on your cock. "Damn, I didn't expect such a cute girl like you to bounce like a twerking whore," you tell her. "Well, Jennie and Lisa taught me, so I had to try, AHHHHHH," she says, feeling your cock hit deep in her ass and screaming afterwards.

Jisoo gets more and more acclimated to your big cock in her ass, twerking harder and harder. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, AHH, AHH, AHHH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, KEEP PUSHING," she screams. You bring her body closer to yours and keep pounding her asshole hard. "YES, COACH, YOU FUCK MY ASS SO GOOD, AHHHHH, YES, OH FUCK, I JUST CAN'T STOP," Jisoo screams. "Are you getting the massage you needed, Jisoo noona?" you ask her. "YESSSS," she rapidly answers.

You spread Jisoo's asshole, amazed at the gape you created in there. "Not so tight anymore, right?" you say. "Let's stretch it a little further," you continue. "OH MY GODDDDD, PLEASE, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, THAT'S SO GOOD." Jisoo is a moaning mess now as her ass gets pounded deeper and deeper. "Such a good girl," you tell her. "Yes, I'm a good girl for my coach, please, keep using my fucking asshole," she says.

You choke Jisoo and do as she pleases, still fucking her ass hard as the yoga mat gets more and more slippery with both of you sweating. "OH MY GOD, I'M CUMMING, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE," Jisoo pleads as she squirts all over your torso. "Let me taste myself," she begs, diving hard on your cock, promptly leading you to fuck her pretty face once again. "Good girl, choke on that dick," you say as you spank her ass while she sucks your cock.

"Keep using your fucking mouth; stuff my balls in it," you tell Jisoo, who follows your instructions. "Suck them harder," you order, spanking her ass. "UHHHHH," Jisoo screams with your balls in her mouth as her ass keeps getting hit. "Good girl, you deserve a reward," you tell Jisoo, pounding her throat hard again. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh fuck yeah, good girl," you say when you're finished.

"Ride it again," you command Jisoo as she sits her ass on your cock in a reverse cowgirl position, still out of breath after you made her gag on your cock. "OH GOD," Jisoo screams, her asshole getting very sore now. You tease her, getting your cock in and out of it multiple times. "Yes, back and forth," she says, before you surprise her with a rough pounding from down low that makes her moan further.

"Oh my God, holy shit, yes, please, please," Jisoo moans as you ram her asshole and slap her tits, your cock going in and out really fast. "OH MY GODDDDDD, IT'S SO GOOOD," she screams as the pounding doesn't stop. Jisoo reaches to finger her pussy and is on the verge of squirting again. "Please, keep going; I love that," she says.

"AHHHHHHHHH," Jisoo screams as she lets out a massive geyser of squirt all over the room. You pull out of her, and she removes her ripped yoga pants to the fullest, staying completely naked now. "Spread those legs; use that move I taught you," you command as Jisoo puts her head on the floor and opens her legs right in the position for you to eat her meaty cunt and gaped asshole. You start playing with her pussy. "Make it rain," you tell her, massaging her folds and building up more juices.

"FUCKKKK AHHHHHHHH," Jisoo squirts like a fountain. You quickly take advantage of her, fucking her ass in an acrobatic position with her legs fully spread while she's upside down. "Look at you. And you told me you couldn't do it, everything for the coach's big cock, I guess," you say to her. "Holy fuck, I've never been fucked like this before," Jisoo says as you clap her cheeks hard from up top, and she uses all her forces not to fall down.

"Please, coach, let me taste my ass once more," Jisoo pleads. You give that to her with another hard facefuck, truly your favorite move to stretch her sexy mouth. "Does that taste good?" you ask her with your cock all the way deep in her throat. "Yes, coach, my ass is amazing," Jisoo says.

"Let's do it again; this time I'm going to take that meaty noona pussy," you say to Jisoo, opening her legs and pounding her cunt upside down, enjoying your belly bulging under her toned abs. "Yes, coach fucks Jisoo noona so good, OH MY GOD," she moans. "YES, YES, YES, PLEASE," she then screams.

After you're done, you massage her pussy and asshole, making her squirt while you hit her ass. Jisoo can barely think straight as you move her towards the window and put your cock back in her ass. "OH MY GOD," she screams as you spit in her pretty face, choking her and spanking her tits as she looks at you with begging, sexy eyes, that ethereal beauty now turned into a sweaty slut that is only worth being a cocksleeve.

"My holes are all yours, coach; keep fucking me," Jisoo begs as you switch to her pussy. "Arch that ass," you tell her, putting Jisoo on all fours as you pound her by the window. "Use my fucking holes for your pleasure, please, coach," she begs. "Oh god, that feels so good," Jisoo says, losing her breath as her legs tremble and she squirts all over the floor.

You keep using Jisoo's meaty pussy to your pleasure. "Please, please, fuck, fuck," she begs, barely able to stay on her feet, quickly kneeling to taste herself as soon as you pull out, deepthroating your cock like a good whore and getting another dose of facefucking while fingering her cunt and squirting all over the already wet floor.

"Let's fuck this ass one last time," you tell Jisoo, pinning her against the wall as you stretch her butthole to the fullest. "Wow, that's amazing, coach, fuck," she says as you fuck her really hard. "AHHHHH, YEAHHHH, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME," Jisoo begs.

"Coach, I want you to cum in my pussy," Jisoo says. Hearing those words makes you go feral. "Sit on this dick and let me pump it until I cum," you command. Jisoo follows as you hammer her cunt like a madman and grope her tits, your balls slapping against her clit nonstop while she fingers it and squirts. "Please, please, cum inside me, AHHHHHH," she begs as you only push harder and harder, your balls smacking her cunt at full speed. "Please, please, fill me up," Jisoo continues to beg, and you keep pounding her using your cock like a hammering piston, pounding after pounding after pounding.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," you warn Jisoo as your load blasts inside her pussy. "Oh my God, it's so fucking warm inside me," she says as your cum drips out of her pussy, both of you exhausted and sweaty. Jisoo picks some of your semen and tastes it. "So sweet, Jisoo noona loves it," she says.

"That was a wonderful first session; the shower is right there," you tell Jisoo.

As Jisoo went to the shower, another woman entered your house with a yoga outfit.

"Happy birthday," you say to Seolhyun, greeting her with a kiss. Seolhyun moves into the same room you just fucked Jisoo. "It's so wet and sweaty," she says. "Don't mind the mess; my last client was quite intense to deal with," you say.

Seolhyun starts doing her yoga moves, and you start to push your wandering hands into her sexy body as well. Jisoo has finished her shower when she sees you touching Seolhyun's body: her long legs, sexy ass, and perky chest.

Jisoo drops the towel covering her body and puts an end to your fun. "He wants to fuck you," she says to Seolhyun.

"How do you know?" Seolhyun asks. "Because he did that to me in that room just a couple of minutes ago," Jisoo answers. "So she was the client you were talking about?" Seolhyun asks. "Well, yeah," you answer.

"Well, it's never too late to have some fun, right?" Seolhyun asks. "Join me, Ms. ...," she says.

"Jisoo," she replies to Seolhyun. The two girls don't know much about each other; despite being born on the same day, loving yoga, and being idols turned actresses, they hardly share the same friends circle. However, both also have one common trait, and that's the one that matters the most right now: they are really thirsty for cock.

"Seolhyun pulls your pants down and quickly tastes Jisoo all over your cock. "Hmmm, I can see why you were so addicted to her," she says, kissing you and sharing those flavors while Jisoo dives to suck your cock. Seolhyun soon follows, and both girls are bobbing their heads on your big dick together and sharing kisses.

You lay on the yoga mat and let them have fun with your cock. "It's amazing, isn't it?" Seolhyun asks Jisoo. "You look so pretty sucking it," Seolhyun says as both move in perfect sync licking your shaft, Seolhyun then letting Jisoo focus on it while she sucks your tip. "Such a fucking hard cock," the AOA girl says.

Seolhyun jerks your cock off while Jisoo uses her mouth to make it sloppier before taking it herself and deepthroating it. "So good," Seolhyun says.

"You want to rip my yoga pants?" Seolhyun asks you, who quickly follows and tears it apart while Jisoo stays focused on sucking your cock. "Oh fuck," you say as Seolhyun sits on your face and pushes Jisoo to gag on your cock and deepthroating it, grabbing the Blackpink girl's head and shoving it against your shaft.

Another round of double blowjob follows as you admire both girls asses right in the sight of your face, reaching to lick their fuckholes. You grab the oil and pour it on Jisoo's ass, noticing that she came out of the shower with a butt plug in her asshole, slowly removing it and fingering her butthole with your middle finger.

Seolhyun's butt plug is the next to get removed, as you tease her before pulling it out. "Her ass is so tight," Jisoo notices as you keep playing with the plug, taking it in and out of her ass until it finally gets fully down, leading you to shove both your thumbs in Jisoo and Seolhyun's arseholes.

Seolhyun is eager to jump on your already well-oiled cock from the session with Jisoo, going for a cowgirl ride that she knows can give any guy a heart attack. "That's so good; it seems so easy to you," Jisoo says as Seolhyun spreads her ass and increases her speed. "Oh yeah, yeah, yeah," the AOA girl moans as she claps her cheeks on your crotch while Jisoo massages your balls.

You can't resist Seolhyun's tight pussy, pounding it hard from down low as she impales herself deeper and deeper on your cock. "Yes, coach, fuck that slut," Jisoo says as you pound Seolhyun hard, smashing your balls against her asshole until she squirts. "Yeahhhh," Seolhyun moans, quickly positioning herself for another wild ride afterwards. "OH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, AHHHHHH," she screams as she bounces on your cock and cums all over it.

Jisoo quickly moves to taste Seolhyun's juices and oil your cock for herself. "I want to sit on it too," she says. "Look how good it stretches her pussy, just riding that fucking cock," Seolhyun says as she runs her hands over Jisoo's ass and spits on it while Jisoo twerks on your dick, then moving down to jerk your shaft while you start pounding Jisoo. "Oh fuck yes, I love watching her pussy grip that fucking cock, taking every inch of it, such a little fucking whore," Seolhyun says.

"Oh, that feels amazing," Jisoo moans as she keeps bouncing on your cock, Seolhyun giving her ass some little taps of incentive. Jisoo's meaty pussy keeps getting stretched out hard by your monster cock. "Just like that, keep working that big dick," Seolhyun commands. "There you go," she says, stroking your cock while Jisoo spins on it.

"Let me rub that fucking clit while you get pounded," Seolhyun says, massaging Jisoo's meaty cunt and giving you free rein to pound it as the Blackpink visual tries to deal with the heat in it. "AH YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, OH FUCK," she screams as her cheeks get clapped on Seolhyun's watch, and you choke her. "AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she keeps screaming as Seolhyun squirts all over the floor, masturbating herself to the scene.

Jisoo cums all over your dick and tastes it too. But the ride is far from over. As soon as Jisoo climbs out of your cock, Seolhyun positions herself to ride it in an anal reverse cowgirl, which will show why her group was known behind the scenes as Ace of Asses, climbing on it with ease while Jisoo rubs her clit.

"There you go, fuck that asshole," Seolhyun commands as you push your cock upwards inside her tight, wonderful butthole. "I love being a good buttslut," she says as she keeps bouncing that hot ass on your cock.

"Make that pussy cum while I bounce that ass," Seolhyun orders to Jisoo, who shoves a pair of fingers in her pussy while she gets anally drilled. "Oh yeah, perfect, just like that," Seolhyun says. "FUCK, FUCK, I'M CUMMMING, I'M CUMMING, AHHHHHH, FUCKKK," Seolhyun screams as she squirts all over the floor, spinning herself on your big cock before you resume pounding her sexy ass. "YES, KEEP GOING, FUCK THAT ASS, PLEASE," she screams as she kisses Jisoo.

Seolhyun climbs out of your cock to taste her asshole, jerking your cock off for Jisoo's turn. "Show me what you can do," she tells Jisoo, who smiles and positions herself in the same position Seolhyun was just moments ago, opting for a sexy spinning anal ride on your dick. "Oh fuck, it's so big," she says as your shaft hits the sides of her already sore ass.

"Are you enjoying this big fucking cock in this fucking ass?" Seolhyun asks Jisoo. "Oh fuck, yes, the coach fucks me so deep in my ass," she answers as you pump your cock in and out of her butthole, slapping your balls in her meaty cunt as Seolhyun enjoys watching her get pounded.

Seolhyun massages Jisoo's meaty folds, ready to make her cum again. "That feels so good; that feels so fucking good," Jisoo says as she feels the juices start to come out of her pussy. "MAKE ME CUM, PLEASE, MAKE ME CUM," she tells Seolhyun as she increases the speed of her fingering. "OH, THAT'S AMAZING. THAT'S SO FUCKING AMAZING, THAT BIG COCK POUNDING MY ASS NONSTOP," Jisoo screams.

"Grind on that cock and cum all over it," Seolhyun tells Jisoo as she drops closer to your body. "Look how stretched out that asshole is," Seolhyun says as you put Jisoo under a full Nelson, her cunt now squirting geyser after geyser as she gets pounded by your cock and massaged by Seolhyun's big hands.

"FUCK, FUCK, HOLY SHIT, YOU'RE MAKING ME CUM SO HARD," Jisoo screams as she turns into a free-use fuckslut. "That's so fucking amazing; I needed this so much," she says. "That tight asshole got what it deserved," Seolhyun comments as Jisoo keeps getting pounded nonstop. "Such a good buttslut getting that pink anus drilled nonstop," Seolhyun says.

Seolhyun spreads her long legs as soon as Jisoo climbs out of your cock, giving you her needy cunt for you to fuck once again. "Put it in my hole," she demands as you fuck it in a spooning position. "My pussy is so amazing getting stretched out by that big fucking cock, hitting it so fucking deep in there," Seolhyun says. "Look how deep he's pushing it," Jisoo says.

"YESSS, AHHHHH, OHHHH," Seolhyun starts to scream as you push so deep it hits her cervix. "OH MY GOD, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she begs as your cock hits her pussy balls deep while massaging her clit. "You fuck my pussy so good, baby," Seolhyun says as Jisoo observes her getting pounded hard, you moving your hips really fast and thrusting like a madman in her cunt.

"Let's go upstairs," you tell the girls, pushing them to your bed. You lift Seolhyun's body up and eat the pussy you just fucked while inserting your cock in Jisoo's, who bounces her ass up and down to ride your cock while you enjoy the juices of Seolhyun covering her face and her long legs wrapping around it as the tanned AOA girl rolls her eyes while you pump your cock in Jisoo's cunt.

You stack Seolhyun's hot body on top of Jisoo's, switching to the Blackpink girl's asshole. "You look so pretty taking all that fucking cock," Seolhyun says, and it doesn't take long for her own turn to arrive, launching on top of Jisoo as you fuck her ass next. "Oh fuck, still tight," you tell Seolhyun as you quickly pick up the pace, spitting in her asshole and grabbing her long legs.

You pick up Seolhyun and carry-fuck her in the ass. "Oh, that's so fucking amazing, so fucking perfect, the way you fuck my ass like that, yesss," she moans as you clap her cheeks hard while Jisoo massages your balls and Seolhyun clings to your arms, before shoving her back to your bed.

Both girls spread their legs, but Jisoo spreads them further, and you present her with another anal insertion. "OH, I LOVE HOW YOU BULGE UNDER MY STOMACH, OH FUCK," she says as she gets pounded, and Seolhyun spits on her face and kisses her. "It feels so amazing," Jisoo says as you slow down, and she fingers herself while Seolhyun sucks her tits. "That's so fucking perfect," Jisoo says as the anal pounding and tit sucking keep going.

"I love that. I love that, fuck me like a good whore," Jisoo says. Seolhyun now moves into fingering Jisoo's cunt as she kisses you. "Yes, rub that pussy just like that," Jisoo says as she prepares to squirt once again. "OH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Jisoo screams.

"You like the way I rub that cunt while he fucks your tight little asshole?" Seolhyun asks Jisoo. "OH YEAH, AHHHHHH, FUCKKKKK," Jisoo screams. "THAT'S SO GOOD, I'M GONNA CUM, I'M GONNA CUM," Jisoo announces loudly as another geyser of squirt comes out of her pussy, you kissing it and then immediately switching to her meaty fuckhole while Seolhyun spits in her pretty face.

You pound Jisoo's cunt really hard, making her whole body shake, especially her perky tits; you then keep going back and forth between her pussy and asshole, drilling Jisoo for being such a good slut. "AHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she screams as her body quivers and bounces, you giving a kiss on her sweaty face when you're done.

Seolhyun gets back on top of Jisoo, positioning herself with her face down while Jisoo has her face up, in prime position for them to kiss each other and for you to fuck Seolhyun's sexy, tanned butthole, as you insert your cock right back in it and tie Seolhyun's arms behind her back while she makes out with Jisoo. "Oh yeah, don't stop; keep fucking that ass," Seolhyun commands as you stretch her arms for a little anal-fucking exercise and pound her hard. "YES, YES, YES, KEEP GOING, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she begs as your balls hit her cheeks.

You give Seolhyun's ass a little spanking, leading her to twerk and bounce her ass sideways on your shaft. "Fuck, that's so hot," you say as you watch her move her butt in a way very reminiscent of some of her classic fancams. "Yeah, twerk and grind on that cock," you tell her. "Yeah, I love that cock," she answers.

You quickly tame Seolhyun, ending her fun and going back to pound her ass hard and fast. Oh fuck, yeah, yeah, yeah," she moans as you brutally analyze her and gape her asshole, going as fast as you can, her kissing Jisoo to cope with the massive heat your cock puts up her butt. "Oh God, you're still so tight," you tell her.

"Back and forth," you say to Seolhyun as you switch back to her pussy. "Look how I twerk that ass for you, coach," she says, moving it up and down once again as she feels your cock get deep in her folds. "Wow, baby, you move it so well," you tell her, letting Seolhyun have fun and bounce on your cock while on all fours for a while.

You turn your attention to Jisoo next, as you put her on all fours while Seolhyun spits in her fuckholes. "Your cock is so amazing, coach," she says as you insert it for the umpteenth time in her pussy while Seolhyun rests her head in Jisoo's ass and watches you fuck her very hard, grabbing those sexy cheeks for a better grip, before slowing down and then picking the pace back up as you tease Jisoo while letting Seolhyun taste your cock every time you pull out of Jisoo's pussy.

You spread Jisoo's legs and put her in a spooning position, sliding back in her asshole and leaving her pussy wide open for Seolhyun to dive in and lick it. "Oh, that's so fucking perfect," Jisoo moans as she kisses you and gets sent to heaven with your thrusts in her ass and Seolhyun's licks in her pussy. "Ahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, fuck, that's so good," she keeps moaning as she gets closer and closer to another orgasm, Seolhyun more and more glued to her folds, your cock deeper and deeper in her ass.

"Right there, make that pussy cum," Seolhyun commands Jisoo while you choke Jisoo up top. A blissful experience ensues as Jisoo starts feeling as if her soul had left her body, her getting turned into nothing but an outlet of pleasure to both of you and Seolhyun. "FUCKKKKKKKK," Jisoo screams louder as she lets out the biggest squirting fountain of the day, one that Seolhyun happily tastes as it lands right in her waiting mouth.

You pull out of Jisoo and let her rest as she kisses Seolhyun's juice-filled mouth before diving into your cock to taste more juices. Seolhyun quickly brings herself to have a similar experience, as you passionately fuck her pussy sideways. "Oh, that's perfect; I can feel it all over my tummy," she says seconds before you start choking her and making her walls clench while your cock bulges under her belly.

"Fuck me balls deep, right there, right there," Seolhyun begs as you pound her wet cunt hard, Jisoo diving to taste it and get your balls smacked in her face as you pound Seolhyun really hard and choke her so hard she's almost strangled. "Oh, that cock is so fucking yummy," Seolhyun moans as she loves being turned into a fucktoy. "YES, YES, YES, AHHHHH, USE THAT FUCKING PUSSY, FUCKING DRAIN THOSE BALLS IN IT," Seolhyun begs as you let her freely scream.

Indeed you're very close to draining your balls, but decide to give yourself a little rest. Jisoo and Seolhyun, however, don't rest at all and keep sucking your cock in the meantime, using their nasty mouths to cover it, full of spit, and jerking it off together, you having to move your thoughts elsewhere not to cum while they massage your shaft really hard with their big hands, moving their mouths all over it and deepthroating it like the nasty whores they are.

Jisoo and Seolhyun kiss the tip of your cock, Seolhyun diving into your balls and rimming your asshole while Jisoo bobs her head on your shaft without using her hands. "Fuck, I love this cock so much," Jisoo says as she finishes gagging on it, handing it to Seolhyun to do it herself. "That tip is so good to lick," Seolhyun says.

Jisoo impales herself on your cock one last time, letting you wrap your arms around her body and pound her pussy. "I love watching that big cock stretch out that pussy," Seolhyun says as she stays behind Jisoo, licking her asshole like a nasty whore while you pound Jisoo's pussy faster and faster. Jisoo twerks again as you set her free. "Oh yes, bounce that fucking ass in my fucking face," Seolhyun tells her, before moving to kiss Jisoo. You start to feel you're on the verge of cumming, and so do the girls.

"Use that fucking pussy until you cum," Seolhyun commands as she spanks Jisoo's ass. You once again get feral, flipping Jisoo around and topping her to fuck her ass in prone bone one final time. Jisoo smiles as Seolhyun spreads her legs and offers her pussy for Jisoo to eat while you drill her asshole hard. "Yes, fuck my pussy with your face," Seolhyun orders as you smash Jisoo's body deeper and deeper into the mattress, her cheeks getting clapped hard as she gets violently pounded, her moans muffled in Seolhyun's pussy. "HMMMMM HMMMM HMMMM, HMMMM," is all you can hear.

You pull out and shoot your first load in their faces before giving some love to Seolhyun's abs and Jisoo's back in your next loads, glazing those sluts with cum. "Wow, that was the best yoga class I had," Jisoo says. "Me too," Seolhyun agrees.

"Well, if you girls say so, you could recommend more students for me to coach some yoga," you tell them.

"Hmmm, I think she's going to be a great fit for you," Jisoo says, giving you Jennie's contact. "These two are my pick; they got banging bodies and great asses," Seolhyun answers, sending you the numbers of Momo and Nancy.

"I'll take your advice and hope they can come here for more yoga classes. As for you two, you're always welcome," you say as both girls leave, already late for their respective birthday parties.

Well, after that session, who needs a birthday party at all?

[nosyp]

here i am requesting a dae-ho x fem!reader smut where dae-ho is usually the sub but whenever he’s jealous he is a whole diff person 🧎‍♀️

Oh yesss, dae-ho is so underrateed. So glad i'm seeing some appreciation for him <3

Title = Possessed by Jealousy

Warnings = MDNI, smut🔞, angry sex, jealousy, possessive behaviour, forced kissing,

Pairing = Dae-ho (Player 388) x fem! reader

Summary = When you are forced to kiss Thanos at a party, Dae-ho's jealousy suddenly ignites a possessive side of him. Making him pull you away, and he takes control to show you just how far he’ll go to claim what’s his.

Word count = 1.4k words

The room was filled with chatter, but all Dae-ho could focus on was the scene unfolding before him. You were standing there, a playful glint in your eyes, as the party guests crowded around. They had dared you to kiss the purple haired man you didn’t even know and before you could protest, his hands were suddenly around your waist, pulling you closer.

It was meant to be a harmless joke, but the way he smirked as he cupped your cheek sent a rush of anger through Dae-ho. It wasn’t the kiss that set him off, nothing like that. It was the way the man touched you, possessive and too familiar. He could feel the jealousy rising in him the more the kiss went on. The look on your face clearly wasn’t satisfying and you definitely didn’t want it.

You felt the man’s lips on yours, his grip tightening as he deepened the kiss, and for a moment, you froze. You didn’t know how to pull away without causing a scene, but you wished Dae-ho, or even anyone was there to save you from this uncomfortable situation.

Just as the kiss lingered, you heard a low voice behind you. “That’s enough.”

The command wasn’t one you’d ever heard Dae-ho use before, but the authority in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. The next thing you knew, he was standing in front of you, his eyes dark with jealousy, his jaw clenched tight. Without a word, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from the other man and guiding you toward the hallway.

“Are you trying to make me watch that?” His voice was low, but the heat in it made your heart race. This was the side of Dae-ho you’d never seen before. It was possessive, intense, and dangerous. His usual submissive nature had vanished, replaced with a raw, commanding energy that took you completely off guard.

Before you could respond, Dae-ho had pushed you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours with a fierceness you never expected. The kiss was hard, demanding, and as his hands roamed to your waist, you felt the weight of his jealousy pushing you into a whole new world of desire.

“You’re mine,” he muttered between kisses, his grip tightening around you as his body pressed against yours.

The air between you and Dae-ho was thick with tension, and you could feel the raw intensity of his jealousy in every brush of his lips against yours. He wasn't gentle like he usually was. No, this was something entirely different. He was going crazy, almost frantic, as if the kiss was his way of claiming you, reminding you and everyone else that you were his.

His hands slid down your body, gripping your hips firmly as he deepened the kiss. The urgency in his movements was clear. The soft, usually submissive Dae-ho was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was replaced by someone far more dominant, someone who wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted.

You gasped as his lips trailed down to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that left a hot trail behind. His breath was heavy against your ear, and his voice was a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

“You think you can just let him touch you like that?” His words were almost a growl, and you could feel the fire in them as he pulled you closer, pressing your body into his. “You belong to me.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, the kiss desperate and possessive, a clear message in every movement. Dae-ho’s usual shyness and soft nature were gone, replaced by someone fierce, determined to make sure you knew who had the power in this moment.

His hands moved with purpose now, slipping beneath your clothes, the fabric of your dress tightening as his fingers grazed your skin. You moaned softly into the kiss, and the sound seemed to fuel him further. He responded by deepening the kiss even more, his hands now roaming up to your chest as he pulled you even closer.

“I hate seeing you with someone else,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. “But I love how you look when you're mine. Mine. Not anyone else’s”

The way he said it made your heart race. His words weren’t just possessive, they were full of desire. And for the first time, you felt it too, the overwhelming attraction to the side of Dae-ho you had never seen before. You realized then that this was who he truly was. Someone who would do anything to have you.

As his lips left marks along your neck and his hands explored your body, you knew you weren’t going to escape this moment. The feeling of his lips on your neck felt so hot, his hot breath fanning over you everytime he lifted his face to kiss another spot. His fingertips rubbing soft circles around your breasts. 

Moans left your mouth as he continued his pursuit on you. Small, loving pecks being pressed on you while his hand snakes behind you before unclasping your bra and pulling off your dress completely. It revealed your skin out to the cold air, making goosebumps appear all over your skin. 

His hands were moving with such greed you kinda doubted if this was the same Dae-ho you knew. It felt like he was replaced by a hungry… greedy… lustful man.

Your eyes were looking around the room frantically in an attempt to calm yourself down. Everything felt so dizzying, from how small the room felt, to how tantalising his touch felt. Actually, nothing felt real. 

From past experiences, you knew Dae-ho wasn’t one to handle jealousy well. The moment he even sees you even talking to another person for too long, his demeanor would shift. It wasn’t a subtle change either. It would start by his brows furrowing, then his lips would tighten, and the air around him would grow tense. 

It wasn’t as if he outright confronted you or anything, but his silence and sharp glares made it clear that something was off. He would subtly pull you closer, acting more possessive and clingy, as if to remind you that your attention should only be on him. Even the slightest hint of someone else taking up your time would send him into a quiet storm of frustration, his jealousy always simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to erupt.

“Tell me you love me… hah..  Tell– me your mine!” he says, hips snapping with yours. The sloppy sounds of his member going in and out of you rang through your ears, only allowing you to focus on the present moment. 

You moan, unable to suppress the pleasure. “A-ah! I- I… mmhh! I love- you!” you squeal.

It was clear he wasn’t happy with you, but there was nothing you could do. The tension suffocated you, and every attempt to speak only made it worse. You were left to surrender, trapped under his cold, unforgiving sex.

“A-ah! T-tell me– you’re mine! God damn it!” he says loudly, almost a scream. The volume scared you a bit. You had no idea why this time was so intense.

“P-please! I- I-! I’m yours, Dae-ho!” the words start pouring from your mouth, your tongue rolling with each syllable. 

Your breath quickens as you give in to the pleasure, allowing your words to process in his mind. He pauses, his gaze hardening for a moment as if savoring the confession.

"Good," he mutters under his breath, then he starts grinding against you again. 

Thwap thwap thwap!

His skin cracks against yours every time he thrusts in you, the sound reverberating around the room. You could see strands of his hair starting to fall, slightly covering his face, but it somehow made him even more handsome. 

You admired his face, the sharpness of his jawline and the way his dark eyes bore into you, full of intensity. His nose, slightly crooked, added to the allure of his features, and his lips were just the right shade of pink, as if tempting you to get closer. 

Every inch of him seemed carefully crafted, but it was his eyes that truly captured your attention. Their deep, piercing gaze never leaves yours, making you feel as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. Oh how glad you were to be with him. 

One thing was clear though: Dae-ho wasn’t letting you go. Not this time.

[alia-alia12]

𖧹katsuki bakugou x fem reader

𖧹smut; katsuki makes you record him eating you out.

𖧹1.0k

𖧹mdni

“just like that” he says, red eyes glancing at the phone in your hand, the camera pulled up as you zoom in on the way his lips ghost over your cunt. “make sure you hold it still."

he's scheduled for a two week long mission out of the country and he needs something to tie him over.

you try— really try to keep the camera steady, but the first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds has you gasping, your entire body jolting as the camera tilts upward, catching only the crown of his spiky blonde hair. his tongue is hot, firm, and deliberate as it drags from your entrance to your clit, circling it just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy.

"fuck," you breathe, scrambling to fix the angle. you bring the phone down, focusing on his sharp jaw and the way it moves as he devours you, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck softly. you can barely suppress the moan that builds in your throat, your head pressing back into the pillow as your chest heaves.

katsuki doesn't let up, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nub with maddening precision. the lewd sounds of his mouth- wet, sticky, and unrelenting-are captured perfectly by the microphone, the obscene audio only adding to your growing arousal.

you’re so lost in the pleasure that you forget what you’re supposed to be doing, letting the phone in your hand drop until nothing but darkness can be seen.

his mouth pulls away with an audible pop, and your hazy eyes snap open at the sudden loss of contact. his brow furrows, a sharp growl rumbling from his chest. "don't make me fucking repeat myself," he snaps, his voice gruff and commanding, but the fire in his gaze betrays just how much he's enjoying watching you squirm.

he reaches up, gripping your wrist with his calloused fingers to guide your hand—and the phone— back to where he wants it. "hold it steady, or i'll make you start all over."

you whimper softly at his words, the threat sending a shiver down your spine. his eyes flash with mischief as he watches you struggle to comply, your hand trembling with the effort to keep the camera on him.

"good," he mutters, dipping his head back down between your thighs. "now don't fuck it up again."

his tongue returns to your clit, flicking and swirling and sucking with a precision that has your thighs threatening to clamp tightly around his head. his blonde hair tickles your inner thighs and the phone shakes slightly.

"katsuki," you moan, your voice high-pitched and breathless. he growls in response, his eyes snapping up to meet yours through the lens of the phone. the intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. you look away.

"look at me," he commands, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. his lips are glistening, his face slick with your arousal as he nips at your inner thigh. "i want you to see this. I want you to remember who makes you fall apart like this when I'm gone."

his possessiveness ignites something inside you, and you nod weakly, barely able to process his words as his tongue returns to its assault. he's ruthless now, his movements faster and more deliberate, his lips and tongue working in tandem to push you closer to the edge. the knot in your stomach tightens, your legs beginning to shake as pleasure consumes you.

he chuckles against your core, the vibrations only adding to the unbearable pleasure. the wet sounds of his mouth working your over are obscene, loud enough to be caught on the recording. you can barely focus on keeping your composure, let alone holding the phone steady.

"you close, baby?" he asks, his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth. "I can feel you shaking. come on, let it go. let me hear those pretty fucking sounds as you cum on my tongue."

his words are your undoing. your back arches off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your climax crashes over you. the phone trembles in your hand, your grip faltering as waves of pleasure roll through you. he doesn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, dragging out your orgasm until you're left a trembling, gasping mess.

when he finally pulls away, his lips are curved into a smug grin, face coated in your arousal and he couldn't look happier. "good girl," he praises, his voice low and husky. he takes the phone from your weak grip, tapping the screen to review the footage with a satisfied hum. "this'll keep me entertained while I'm gone."

you collapse back onto the bed, utterly spent, chest heaving as you catch your breath. katsuki sets the phone on the nightstand, crawling up your body until his lips hover over yours. he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, before pulling back just enough to whisper against your mouth.

"don't think we're done yet," he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. "i've got a whole week to make up for. might as well record me fucking that tight little pussy next."

his words make your breath hitch, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you as he smirks, his hands already roaming your body in preparation for round two.

[blog-o-meter]

House of Whispers (Part 1) - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) always knew her place — she was just the housekeeper’s daughter and, at times, Nicholas’s secret escape. But when he returns from Los Angeles 5 years later and moves back into his family’s estate with a pregnant girlfriend in tow, buried truths resurface.

warnings: 18+, angst, unprotected p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, cheating, cursing, arguing, outdoor sex, idk what else honestly

required listening: Already Know by DEGA; Anxious In Venice by Superhumanoids

word count: 28,830

a/n: I literally dreamt this a week ago and thought it would make a good fic 😭 also I didn’t plan on splitting this one up into two parts but I didn't know Tumblr had a block limit! so part 2 is already written and ready to go, I'm just gonna wait a few days to upload it so pls enjoy part 1 <3

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

The house was buzzing with anticipation — staff members fluttering around trying to tidy everything up even though the entire house was always pristine and nothing was ever out of place, the personal chef rushing to have the brunch menu perfectly plated and worthy of being on the cover of Food & Wine, and yard workers making sure every blade of grass and every petal of a flower was watered and lively. I had been in charge of making sure the guest suite was spotless, tidy, and ready to be moved into.

The Chavez family didn’t do anything halfway, and today was no exception; it was the day Nicholas would be moving back in after years of being away in Los Angeles to focus on his career. Him moving away in the first place was probably the best decision he could’ve made for himself because it had become totally worth it. He was drowning in role offers, on the cover of almost every magazine, and had managed to take the internet by storm. But the move back was just as important because he wouldn’t be returning alone. No, he would come back with a very important lady in tow — his pregnant girlfriend.

The announcement of his return had sent ripples through the estate. Everyone seemed eager to welcome Nicholas home, but for me, it had been a strange mixture of dread and longing. I hadn’t seen him in person since the night before he left for Los Angeles, and each time he’d find himself visiting the estate for holidays or birthdays, I’d coincidentally be out of the house. I told myself I was over him. Told myself that whatever we had all that time ago was just that — something we had. But when I found out he was coming and knowing he was doing so with someone else, her, and that they were starting a family? That stung in a way I wasn’t ready to confront.

So for now, I focused completely on making sure everything was ready. I stood in the guest suite, smoothing the already perfectly ironed duvet for the third time. The room was fit for royalty, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the manicured gardens and a vase of fresh pink rhododendrons — I’m told are her favorite — on the nightstand.

Nicholas’s mom told me that I didn’t have to get them anything, but I wanted to. I told myself it was for her, but it wasn’t really. It was for me, to prove to myself that I wasn’t hung up on some past that doesn’t mean anything more. She was his girlfriend now, and I am just a housekeeper who worked with her mom at the Chavez estate. Everything was in its place, just as it always was. Just as I had to be.

I was listening to The Pixies — part of my 80s playlist — through my headphones as I fluffed pillows and dusted surfaces, too engrossed in the mechanical routine and the drums of Here Comes Your Man to realize my mom had been trying to get my attention for the past minute or so. That’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whipped around and pulled the headphones off my head, the music blasting through the flimsy thin sponges suddenly sounding too loud in the quiet of the room. It was my mom, laughing to herself at the sight of me bopping my head as I cleaned.

“(Y/N), are you almost done in here?” She asked while trying to stifle a chuckle, rubbing her clammy hands on her pristine apron. She had been in charge of cleaning all of the restrooms along with one of the other housekeepers. “Mrs. Chavez wants everybody outside before Nicholas gets here.”

I nodded, quickly slipping the headphones around my neck. “Yeah, I’m done,” I said, glancing around the room one last time. Everything was perfect. Too perfect.

Mom gave me a knowing look, the kind she always gave when she could tell I was trying too hard. “The room is perfect, sweetie. Now, c’mon,” she waved her hand in excitement, “everybody else is outside.”

I grabbed my caddy of cleaning supplies and led us out of the suite, our shoes squeaking as we stepped out into the tiled hallway and down the grand staircase. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked out of the room. I wasn’t sure if she suspected how I felt about Nicholas or if she just thought I was being meticulous for the sake of appearances. Either way, I was grateful she didn’t say anything else.

I quickly walked over to the supply closet near the base of the staircase and placed my caddy inside as my mom scurried out of the front door and urged me to catch up with her. I scampered behind her, the polyester material of my uniform brushing over my knees with each hurried step.

Outside, the estate grounds were a picture of perfection, as they always were. The staff lined up neatly near the circular driveway, a quiet buzz of excitement rippling through them as they awaited Nicholas’s arrival with confetti cannons in hand. I hung back slightly, finding a spot near the end of the line with my mom and some of the other senior members of staff like the chef, fiddling with the edge of my cleaning apron. I told myself this was just another day, but I knew it wasn’t. It never was with him. Would he talk to me? Ignore me? I couldn’t blame him if he did.

“Oh, I see them!” Mrs. Chavez exclaimed as she pointed to the black Escalade driving up the street.

I watched as the luxury car came into view, pulling up smoothly into the driveway and coming to a stop in front of the fountain. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was.

Nicholas Alexander Chavez.

The driveway erupted into a mix of hoots and booms from the confetti cannons exploding in everybody’s hands, bright pieces of foil paper coating the sky and floating down to the stone ground.

Time hadn’t dulled anything about him. If anything, it had refined him. He was tanner, beefier — his arms and thighs practically begging to be let free from his form-fitting clothes. He wore a casual white button-down with the sleeves rolled up along with a pair of denim jeans, effortlessly handsome in a way that sent an unwelcome flutter through my chest. His dark brown eyes scanned the crowd with a quiet confidence, his jawline sharper than I remembered. His hair is a lot different than it used to be, too, no longer loosely swinging past his jaw but shorter and brushed back by the sunglasses on his head. He looked even better than when I last saw him. Oh no.

And then, she stepped out of the car.

She was gorgeous — glossy brown hair cascading over her shoulders and the pitch black oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes, a radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire estate flashing across her face. She wore a flowy dress, one that emphasized her still-flat stomach but there was the tiniest hint of a bump, the very thing that cemented her place next to Nicholas.

The staff clapped politely as Mrs. Chavez rushed toward the start of the line to greet her son, enveloping him in a tight hug. “Nicholas! Oh, it’s so good to have you home!” she gushed before turning to her. “And you, sweetie, look absolutely stunning.”

She beamed, taking Mrs. Chavez’s hands in hers and giving her an air kiss. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Chavez. It’s so nice to see you again.”

I tried to keep my expression neutral, to blend into the background as I always did, but Nicholas’s gaze swept over the line of staff and landed on me. For a split second, our eyes met and his smile grew softer, and I could’ve sworn time stood still and suddenly, I felt 18 again, sitting at the edge of the pool under the protective blanket of the dark night with Nicholas sitting beside me just inches away, the same soft smile on his face.

It had been one of those nights when the Chavez family was throwing some luxurious party, everyone drinking and mingling over glasses of champagne inside, except for me. My mom had asked me if I wanted to help her out at the party for a bit since one of the housekeepers had left earlier in the day, and I felt like being helpful that day. Eventually, though, the party had gone on later than usual, like always, and I found myself sitting outside on the edge of the pool at 2AM, like always.

The spring air was a little warm and still, the only sound was the occasional chirp of crickets and the gentle ripple of the pool water as I slowly circled my feet underwater. I had been sitting at the edge, part of my brain counting down the minutes until my mom and I could go home and the other part thinking about the week ahead — spring semester finals week of college. The moonlight danced across the surface, and I let myself drift into thoughts I shouldn’t have been entertaining.

And then he appeared, as if he knew I was thinking about him.

“You’re always up late, even when there isn’t a party going on inside.”

Nic’s voice was low and easy, the kind that made my heart skip a beat no matter how much I tried to steel myself against it.

I turned my head and saw him standing near the end of the pool, barefoot and wearing a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips and a graphic tee that swayed against his skinny frame as he strolled over to me. He held a beer in one hand, the bottle catching the faint glow of the pool lights as he moved.

“I’m a night owl, I guess,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.

He smirked, setting the bottle down on the concrete before sitting next to me, close enough that the warmth of his skin radiated toward me. His legs dangled over the edge, and for a moment, we just sat there, staring at the water in comfortable silence.

“So finals week, huh?” he asked, glancing sideways at me.

I nodded, surprised he remembered me mentioning it passing a few days ago. “Yeah. Just one more week and my first year of college will be behind me. I should probably be asleep, but—” I glanced back at the house, “—the party’s still going on. That and…”

“And your mind won’t shut up,” he finished for me, his smirk softening into something more genuine, that soft smile that could trigger something in me.

I stifled a chuckle, “Yeah.”

He let out a soft laugh, leaning back on his hands and tilting his face toward the stars. “I remember those nights. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“You’re only two years older,” I quietly laughed.

He turned to look at me, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Doesn’t mean I don’t remember the stress. Want me to tell you a secret?”

I raised an eyebrow, curious despite myself. “What?”

“I used to sneak out here to clear my head, just like you,” he took a small swig of his beer.

“Yeah, I remember seeing you out here sometimes,” I mumbled.

“There’s something about the quiet, you know?” He set the bottle back down with a quiet clink. “It makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world for a little while.”

I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking to his face. He looked so different under the moonlight — softer, more open. It made it hard to keep my thoughts in check. “Yeah, it does,” I murmured.

“I’ll tell you another secret,” he said as he grabbed his beer again, bringing it up to his lips but too lost in thought to take another sip. “Nobody knows yet, but…” he swallowed dryly, “I’m gonna drop out.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implication. I blinked, turning to face him fully, unsure if I’d heard him right. “You’re dropping out? Of Rutgers?”

He smirked and nodded, “Well, not dropping out. I already did,” he set the bottle back down on the concrete in the little space between our legs. “Already did the paperwork. I’m not going back in the fall.”

The shock hit me like a slap to the face. Nic was supposed to be the golden boy — the one who had everything figured out. College was just a stepping stone for him to achieve whatever greatness everyone assumed he was destined for. “Why?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and self-assured. “Because it’s not for me,” he said, leaning back on his hands again. His face was calm, like he’d made peace with it a long time ago. “And because I love acting way too much to be wasting my time sitting in lectures and writing papers. I want more than that. I need more.”

I stared at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but there wasn’t any. “So what’s your plan?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he moved the beer bottle separating us and shifted closer, his knee brushing against mine as he reached down and swirled his fingers in the water. “I’m moving to LA. I already got in contact with an agent, already sent in a few self-tape auditions.” He was quiet for a beat, Nicholas tilted his head, his gaze meeting mine. “If I don’t do it now, I’ll regret it forever,” he said, and there it was — that spark in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t just talking. He meant it.

I couldn’t help but admire him in that moment — the way he seemed so sure of himself, so ready to take on the world without any fear. But I also couldn’t ignore the tiny ache in my chest, the thought of him leaving hitting me harder than I expected.

“When are you leaving?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I looked back toward the water.

“End of the summer,” he said. “A couple more months.”

The words hung heavy between us, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The faint ripple of the water and the chirping crickets filled the silence, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the weight of what he’d just told me.

He broke the silence then. “You’re going to crush those finals, you know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

The unexpected compliment caught me off guard, and I turned to him, my heart thudding in my chest. “Thanks,” I said softly, unable to look away from him.

His gaze lingered on mine, and for a moment, I thought he might say something else. But instead, he leaned in, closing the space between us until his lips brushed against mine. It was soft at first, tentative, like he was giving me a chance to pull away. But when I didn’t — when I kissed him back — something shifted.

The kiss deepened, and I felt his hand move to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. My heart raced, every nerve in my body buzzing as his lips pressed harder against mine, as though he needed this just as much as I did. My fingers found their way into his stringy hair, and every logical thought evaporated.

It was reckless, dangerous, and so far beyond what should’ve been happening — after all, his mom was my mom’s boss and, occasionally, my own — but I didn’t care. Not in that moment.

His other hand slipped around my waist, tugging me against him as the cool night air was replaced by the heat radiating from his body. My fingers clutched at his t-shirt, my breaths coming faster as his tongue brushed against mine. It was everything I shouldn’t have wanted — everything I had told myself over and over I could never have — but it was also everything I couldn’t resist.

“Fuck,” he muttered against my lips, his voice rough and low, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes searching mine. “You sure?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and I realized he was giving me a choice, an out.

I didn’t need to think. “Yes,” I breathed, my voice shaking but certain.

That was all he needed to hear.

Before I could blink, he had pulled me up from the edge of the pool, his hands strong and steady as he guided me toward the pool house. The door clicked shut behind us, the sound echoing in the quiet, and suddenly we were alone, the world outside fading into nothingness.

The intensity of his gaze pinned me in place as he stepped closer, his hands sliding down to my hips and pulling me against him. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long,” he admitted, his voice husky as his lips brushed against my jaw, trailing down to the sensitive skin of my neck.

I gasped, my hands tangling in his hair as he pressed me against the cool wall. “Me too,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

His hands roamed over my body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake as he guided me to the small couch. We fell into it together, our bodies tangling in a way that felt both desperate and natural. The air was thick with heat and tension, each movement electric. His lips were everywhere — on my neck, my collarbone, trailing lower and lower with a hunger that left me breathless.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Nic growled against my skin, his hands exploring me like he had been waiting forever to touch me like this.

I moaned softly, my hands clutching at his t-shirt, desperate to pull him closer. “You talk too much,” I whispered back, my words teasing but breathless.

He laughed low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my skin as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His body was lean but strong, his skin warm under my fingertips as I ran my hands over his chest, his stomach.

His lips crashed back against mine, more forceful this time, as his hands moved to the hem of my shirt. He tugged it over my head in one quick motion, his eyes darkening as they raked over me.

“Fuck,” he muttered again, his hands sliding around to my back to pull me closer. “I can’t believe I waited this long.”

I couldn’t respond, couldn’t even think, as he pressed me back against the cushions of the couch. His body was over mine, his weight grounding me in a way that felt both overwhelming and intoxicating. His kisses grew more urgent, his touch more deliberate, as we moved together, the space between us disappearing entirely.

Our bodies collided like a force of nature — hot, desperate, and completely unrestrained. The room was quiet save for the sound of our ragged breathing, our wet kisses, and the occasional thud of clothes being tossed to the floor. His mouth was on mine again, and I felt like I couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t touch enough of him, couldn’t get enough of him.

Nic groaned, his voice low and guttural as his lips trailed down my neck and over my chest. His hands gripped my hips tightly, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I laughed breathlessly, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling his face back to mine. “Good,” I whispered against his lips before kissing him hard.

His laugh turned into a growl as his hands moved lower, sliding over the curve of my thighs and pressing me firmly into the couch. I gasped, my back arching as his touch lit a fire under my skin. He was everywhere, consuming me, and I didn’t want him to stop.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear as he slid his hands back up my thighs. “So many fucking times.”

I couldn’t respond — not with words, at least. Instead, I pulled him closer, my nails scraping lightly down his back as his lips moved lower. My breathing hitched as he kissed a path down my stomach, his hands pushing my legs further apart.

“Shit,” I gasped, my head falling back against the cushions as he kissed along my inner thigh. The combination of his lips, his hands, and the way he was looking at me was almost too much.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against my skin as he pressed a kiss just above my waistband before coming back up to hover over me. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity and desire. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

I swallowed hard, my hands finding their way to his face as I pulled him down for another kiss. “You don’t have to,” I whispered against his lips. “Just…don’t stop.”

And he didn’t.

He crawled back down, hooking his fingers through the belt loops of my shorts and pulling them down, not bothering to fiddle with the button or zipper. His impatience was electric, the shorts, along with my underwear, sliding off my legs in one swift motion before being tossed somewhere behind him. The weight of his gaze dragged over me, dark and burning with something primal.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he muttered, almost to himself, his hands running up the bare skin of my thighs, pausing just enough to make me shiver.

“Then stop wasting time,” I shot back, breathless, barely recognizing my own voice.

His lips quirked up in a smirk as he leaned down again, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin of my hip. “Bossy,” he teased, but his hands told a different story, sliding higher and higher, until—

“Fuck,” I gasped, my head tipping back as his fingers finally found the spot that had been aching for him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent as he worked me in slow, deliberate circles. My hips bucked instinctively, trying to draw him closer, but he held me steady, his strength only adding to the overwhelming sensation.

“Nic,” I choked out, his name slipping from my lips before I could stop it.

His movements faltered for a second, his gaze snapping up to meet mine. Something flickered in his eyes — possessiveness, maybe, or the thrill of hearing his name like that from me. He leaned down, his breath hot against my skin.

“Say it again,” he commanded, his voice rough and dripping with authority.

“Fuck, Nic,” I whimpered, my hands fisting into the couch cushions as his fingers pressed deeper, his movements quickening.

“Good girl,” he rasped, the praise sending another wave of heat rushing through me. He shifted lower, his lips trailing kisses along my thighs as his fingers continued their relentless pace.

My breaths came quicker, my entire body trembling under his touch. He was merciless, pulling me apart inch by inch, dragging me closer to the edge until—

“Oh, my God,” I cried out, my vision going white as pleasure hit me like a tidal wave. My back arched, my hands scrabbling for purchase as I completely unraveled beneath him.

He didn’t stop, his mouth now replacing his hand as he coaxed every last tremor from me, his low groans vibrating against my skin. It was overwhelming, his name tumbling from my lips like a prayer as I sank back into the cushions, utterly spent.

Before I could catch my breath, he was on me again, his lips crashing against mine, hot and messy and desperate. I could taste myself on him, and instead of embarrassment, it only fueled the fire that hadn’t quite burned out.

“You’re gonna kill me,” I panted against his mouth, my fingers dragging over the lines of his chest, lower, to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Fair fucking trade,” he growled, his teeth grazing my jaw as I tugged his pants down, freeing him.

The weight of him against my palm had me trembling all over again, but this time I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped my hand around him, relishing the hiss that escaped his lips.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his forehead falling to mine as his hips jerked into my touch. 

It wasn’t long before he pulled my hand away, pinning it above my head as he lined himself up with me, his free hand gripping my hip to keep me steady. His gaze locked on mine, his brows furrowed like he was barely holding himself together.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, though his body betrayed the tension coiled in him, begging for release.

I shook my head, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. “Don’t you dare.”

With that, he pushed into me, slow and deliberate, a curse falling from his lips as he filled me completely. The stretch was almost too much, but the way he held me, his forehead pressed to mine, made it impossible to feel anything but him.

“Fuck, you feel…” he trailed off, his words lost in a groan as he pulled back and thrust forward again, this time harder, deeper.

I couldn’t respond, couldn’t form a single coherent thought as he set a rhythm, each movement driving me closer to the edge all over again.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice rough, and when my eyes met his, the intensity there stole what little breath I had left. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his pace quickening as his hand moved between us, his fingers finding that spot again, pushing me higher and higher.

“Nic, I—” I gasped, unable to finish the sentence as my body tightened around him, pleasure ripping through me with a force that left me trembling, crying out his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he fell over the edge, his groan low and guttural as he spilled into me, his body collapsing against mine.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, our ragged breaths filling the space between us. His weight was heavy but grounding, his head buried in the crook of my neck as his hands smoothed over my sides, soothing the aftershocks still rippling through me.

When he finally lifted his head to look at me, his lips quirked into a lazy, satisfied grin while his stringy hair flopped over his forehead and brushed my face.

We didn’t talk about it afterward. We never did. But that night became the first of many stolen moments, each one pulling me further into a reality I knew I could never have, not when I knew he’d be leaving in a few months to chase his dreams.

Back in the present, I forced myself to blink, the memory dissipating like smoke as I stood near the edge of the driveway, Nicholas’s smile fading from my mind. The sound of polite applause and welcomes brought me crashing back to reality.

I found him still looking at me, but he was interrupted by his mom pulling him in for another tight hug, which I was grateful happened. I wasn’t ready to talk to him, not right now. Suddenly feeling the bile in my stomach gurgle and gnaw at my insides, I leaned into my mom’s ear. “I think I forgot to put away one of the vacuums in the room,” I whispered.

She was too caught up in the moment, excitedly watching the family reunite, and only gave me a quick nod.

I inconspicuously retreated from the line of staff, my heart pounding harder with each step. The memory had shaken me more than I wanted to admit, the phantom sensation of his hands on my body lingering far too vividly in my mind, somehow feeling just as fresh even after all these years.

I darted into the house, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat outside. I leaned against the wall of the grand foyer, squeezing my eyes shut and taking a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm the mess of emotions swirling in my chest.

What the hell was I doing?

I had spent years convincing myself that what happened between us didn’t matter anymore — that it had been a fleeting thing, a summer romance born of youth and circumstance. But seeing him again had ripped open every wound I thought I’d buried.

I couldn’t stay out here and risk running into him again, not with her there. Not with that tiny bump on her stomach and the reality of what his life had become staring me in the face.

I turned on my heel and made for the stairs, pretending to head for the vacuum I hadn’t forgotten. I just needed a few minutes to pull myself together before someone noticed. I’d barely made it halfway up when everybody started making their way back inside. I looked over the railing as I continued my ascent, and Nicholas’s eyes flicked back up to me again before smiling over to his girlfriend as his mom showed her around the house, guiding the both of them toward the kitchen.

I ducked into the guest suite before anyone could notice me, closing the door softly behind me. My chest felt tight, my breaths too shallow, like I couldn’t get enough air. The memories of that summer wouldn’t leave me alone, clinging to the edges of my mind and taunting me with what once was.

I paced the length of the room, trying to shake it off. It had been years. Years since that night. Years since the others that followed. Years since I’d told myself it was over, that it had to be over. He made that very clear back then. It didn’t matter how he looked at me back then. It didn’t matter how he looked at me now. Except it did — to me, at least.

His smile when he spotted me outside, that flicker of something familiar in his dark brown eyes — it felt like a goddamn punch to the gut. And then there was her. That perfect, glowing woman who had everything I couldn’t even dream of. A future. A family. Him.

I let out a sharp breath, running a hand through my hair. Get it together, I told myself. I had a job to do, nothing more and nothing less.

Just then, the door opened, a few of the staff members walking in with luggage in tow and setting the bags near the foot of the bed. I politely smiled at them, “Are there any more bags you guys need help with?”

One of the housekeepers, Maria, glanced at me and shook her head, her arms straining slightly under the weight of a Louis Vuitton suitcase. “No, I think this is the last of it,” she said. Then, leaning closer, she added in a hushed tone, “I can’t believe she’s already moving in. Not wasting any time, huh?”

I forced a smile, my stomach twisting at her words. “Guess not,” I murmured.

I brushed past her and made my way out of the guest suite and rushed to the stairs. Just then Mrs. Chavez, Nicholas, and his girlfriend were all making their way up the stairs. The ladies were too engrossed in their conversation to notice me going down but when I brushed past them, Mrs. Chavez lit up.

“Oh, (Y/N)! There you are,” she smiled.

I stopped in my tracks and turned around to look up at them, politely smiling. “Hi, Mrs. Chavez. I was just making sure everything was ready in the guest suite.”

“(Y/N), this is Nicholas’s girlfrie— excuse me, fiancée, Valerie,” Mrs. Chavez smiled. “Valerie, this is (Y/N). She’s (Y/M/N)’s daughter and has also been with us for years.”

Valerie pulled back her black sunglasses then and flashed me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, such a contrast to the way I had seen her outside. “Hi,” she said in a perky tone as she looked down at me.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you, Valerie,” I smiled sheepishly, brushing the hem of my uniform, trying to avoid glancing at Nicholas. “I know Mrs. Chavez said I didn’t need to get you anything, but I left a bouquet of rhododendrons on your nightstand as a welcome gift,” I smiled.

“Oh!” She said, her jaw falling into an open smile, almost as if she was surprised I had considered her.

“She said they were your favorite,” I fiddled with my fingers without looking.

Nicholas turned his head to look up at his mom then, “That’s why you asked the other day,” a soft smile on his lips.

Mrs. Chavez nodded with a proud smile. “Of course. We wanted to make sure everything was perfect for your homecoming. And you know how (Y/N) has always been so thoughtful.”

Valerie glanced at the three of us, her smile faltering just slightly before she replaced it with another bright grin. “That’s so sweet of you, (Y/N). Thank you,” she said, but there was a hint of something sharp in her tone, subtle but unmistakable.

I nodded politely, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “It was nothing,” I said quickly. “I’ll let you all settle in. Mrs. Chavez, I’ll be in the kitchen helping prepare for brunch.”

As I turned to head back downstairs, Nicholas’s voice stopped me. “(Y/N).”

I paused, my heart stuttering in my chest as I turned back around to face him. “Yes?”

His smile was softer now, more genuine, and it felt like it was just for me. That was dangerous. “Thank you.”

The air between us crackled with an unspoken tension, but it only lasted a second before Valerie looped her arm through his, leaning into his side with a perfectly practiced smile.

“Let’s go look at our room, baby,” she chimed, her tone sugary sweet but just shy of dismissive.

Nicholas glanced at her, his smile faltering slightly, but he nodded and let her guide him up the stairs. “Yeah, let’s go,” he said, though his gaze lingered on me for just a moment longer before he turned away.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to move down the stairs. The sharp edge of Valerie’s tone had sliced right through me, but I couldn’t blame her. She had every reason to feel territorial. Still, it stung. Not because she had him now — well, not entirely — but because I hated the way she looked at me, like I didn’t belong, like I was nothing more than the girl who cleaned the rooms and set the table.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I headed for the kitchen, hoping to lose myself in the chaos of brunch preparations. The sound of pots clattering and Paolo, the family chef, barking orders was almost comforting in its familiarity. I grabbed an apron from the rack and slipped it over my head, eager for the distraction.

I clapped my hands once. “What can I help with, Pao?”

He whipped around, a big smile peeking out from under his bushy, graying mustache, “Why don’t you start setting up the tables outside? People should be arriving soon, and we cannot have the tables looking bare,” he laughed.

I grabbed the stack of white linens and the box of polished silverware and plates from the counter, nodding at Paolo. “On it,” I said, thankful for the task to keep my hands busy and my mind distracted. Setting the tables meant I could stay busy and avoid the suffocating tension in the house. With that, I headed out to the garden.

The Chavez family brunches were always grand affairs, with guests flitting around the estate like peacocks, each one more polished than the last.

Outside, the estate was already buzzing with activity. Staff darted around carrying trays of mimosas and finger foods while Mrs. Chavez floated between them, directing traffic like the queen she was. I made my way to the tables arranged under the sprawling canopy of the garden, the sunlight filtering through the trees and dappling the perfectly manicured grass. The view should’ve been calming, but the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.

I began laying out the linens, smoothing them over the round tables one by one and making my way to the cart of centerpieces waiting to be arranged on the tables, carrying the sparkling crystal vases of wildflowers and carefully placing them on each table. I then arranged the cutlery with practiced precision, working methodically — placing forks, knives, and spoons on the correct sides and at the perfect angle and folding the linen napkins into perfect fans. The repetitive task helped steady my hands, though my mind still raced, replaying the exchange at the staircase.

Every now and then, I glanced up to make sure everything looked perfect — the kind of perfection the Chavez family always demanded. But the peace I’d found in the quiet of the garden was short-lived. A voice — sharp, clear, and just a little too close — cut through the gentle hum of the brunch preparations.

“So, how long have you worked here?”

I looked up to find her standing on the opposite side of the table, her arms crossed loosely, her sunglasses now perched on top of her glossy hair. Valerie looked every bit the picture of effortless elegance, but there was something about the way she leaned into her stance that felt…pointed.

“Uh…” I blinked, caught off guard. “Officially, almost six years now,” I replied softly, continuing to place plates and silverware. “I actually left for a bit after getting my bachelor’s to focus on working in my field, but I decided I wanted to get a master’s, so I came back last year so I can save up.” I’m not sure why I decided to tell half my life story to her. Maybe I thought it would endear me to her, hopefully.

She nodded, a polite smile stretching across her lips as she stepped closer. “Wow, six years. That’s a long time. You must really love it here.”

“It’s a good job,” I replied, carefully folding the last napkin into a crisp fan. “And my mom’s worked for the family for even longer, so… I kind of grew up here.”

Her expression didn’t shift much, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes — a spark of curiosity, maybe, or judgment. “That’s sweet,” she said, her tone teetering on the edge of insincerity. “It must’ve been interesting growing up so close to Nicholas.”

My heart skipped. “He’s…always been nice,” I said carefully, my fingers tightening around the napkin in my hand.

Her smile widened, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure he was. Nic’s always had a big heart, hasn’t he?” She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping just enough to make the question feel more pointed. “He mentioned you earlier, you know. Said you were thoughtful. It’s nice that you went out of your way with the flowers.”

My chest tightened. I set the napkin down, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “It wasn’t a big deal. Just something I thought you might like.”

She tilted her head, studying me for a moment before her smile softened into something almost sympathetic. “Well, I appreciate it. It’s just…interesting, isn’t it? How people can sometimes misinterpret kindness.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implication.

“What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my voice as steady as I could.

She shrugged, the movement graceful but dismissive. “Oh, nothing. I just think it’s good to keep things professional, don’t you? Lines can get blurry sometimes, especially when people have known each other for so long.”

The knot in my stomach tightened into something sharper, anger sparking under the surface of my calm. “I’ve always been professional,” I said evenly, my hands clenching at my sides. “I take my job seriously.”

Her smile faltered for a split second before she recovered, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Good,” she said, her tone light but laced with steel. “Because I don’t think Nic needs any distractions, especially right now with the baby and the wedding planning and all. And like you said, you’re saving up for graduate school, so you need this job, right?”

The words hit me like a slap, sharp and intentional. I swallowed hard, my fists tightening at my sides as I stared at her, trying to keep my composure. Her smile stayed in place, but there was nothing kind about it now. It was a challenge, a warning wrapped in a veneer of politeness.

“I do,” I said evenly, my voice steady despite the fire building in my chest.

Her eyes flicked over me, calculating, before she took a small step back. “Good. I’d hate for things to get…complicated.”

My fingers dug into the fabric of the napkin I was folding, crumpling its perfect creases. She was trying to assert her dominance, staking her claim over him in the most passive-aggressive way possible, and I couldn’t help but resent how effective it was. She didn’t have to scream or yell; her message was clear as day — I didn’t belong, here or with him. Though, I couldn’t exactly be mad at her for the latter.

She lingered for a moment longer, her gaze sweeping over the table as if she were inspecting my work. Then she turned and walked away, her heels clicking softly against the stone path as she made her way back toward the house.

I exhaled sharply, my shoulders sagging as the tension drained from my body. My hands trembled slightly, but I forced myself to keep working, adjusting the placement of a centerpiece that didn’t need adjusting.

I finished setting up the tables just as guests started to arrive, spilling into the picturesque backyard. I grabbed the stack of leftover plates and silverware and headed back inside to the kitchen, setting the things down with a particular force on the island.

Paolo’s eyes flicked up to me. “Whoa, whoa, what did the plates ever do to you?” He teased, his thick Italian accent curling around his words as he chopped a pile of fresh basil. His eyes, however, sharpened with concern as he studied me. “You look like you’re ready to murder someone.”

I forced a smile, the edges of it brittle. “I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed with all the…guests,” I said, my voice strained.

He snorted, setting his knife down and leaning against the counter. “Guests, huh? Or just one in particular?”

I shot him a look, but Paolo wasn’t one to back down, especially when it came to teasing me. “Don’t look at me like that. I saw her come in here earlier. The new princess. She’s…what’s the word? A delight.”

“Don’t,” I said quickly, my voice sharper than I intended. “I don’t need you adding to it.”

Paolo raised his hands in mock surrender, his bushy mustache twitching with a smirk, but his curiosity lingered. He gave a small shrug before returning to his chopping. “Hey, I’m just saying. But if you need to stab into some dough, I’ll be right here.”

I huffed a small laugh despite myself, shaking my head as I grabbed a fresh tray of appetizers to take outside. “Thanks, Pao. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The backyard was already buzzing with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses. I moved through the crowd like a ghost, my tray balanced carefully in my hands as I offered bruschetta to the guests, avoiding eye contact whenever possible.

As I made my way through the backyard, weaving between clusters of perfectly dressed guests, I kept my head down and my movements mechanical. The tension from Valerie’s thinly veiled warning still coiled tight in my chest, like a spring waiting to snap. I smiled politely at the occasional ��thank you” or “these are delicious,” but my focus was on getting through this without making a scene.

I weaved through the sea of polished smiles and clinking glasses, the tray of bruschetta growing lighter with every guest who plucked one off without a second glance at me. The hum of conversation was a soothing distraction, but my nerves buzzed beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. I’d done this a hundred times before, but today felt different — everything felt different with her here.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” an older woman murmured as she took a piece from the tray, her gold bracelets jingling as she moved. I nodded politely, offering a small smile before slipping away to the next cluster of guests.

And then I saw him.

Nicholas stood near the garden trellis, a glass of champagne in hand, talking to an older couple I vaguely recognized as longtime family friends. His easy smile was on full display, charming and genuine, and for a moment, I let myself linger, watching the way he carried himself. The way his head tilted slightly when he listened, the way his hands moved when he spoke — it was all so achingly familiar.

But just as quickly as the warmth of recognition filled me, it was snuffed out when Valerie appeared at his side. She slid her arm through his with practiced grace, her laugh cutting through the air as she joined the conversation. Nicholas glanced at her, his smile softening in a way that felt…off.

I turned away quickly, the sting sharper than I expected, and nearly collided with Paolo as he emerged from the house carrying a tray of fresh cannoli.

“Careful, ragazza,” he said with a laugh, steadying me with one hand. “You’ll knock me over before I even get these out to the guests.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, stepping back to let him pass. I caught the concern in his eyes as he looked at me, but thankfully, he didn’t say anything.

I took a steadying breath and made my way to the buffet table to drop off the now-empty tray. I needed a moment to collect myself before diving back into the crowd. But as I turned, I froze.

Nicholas was walking toward me.

My heart thudded painfully in my chest as he crossed the garden, his dark brown eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. He wasn’t smiling now, his expression unreadable but charged with something that sent a shiver down my spine.

I glanced around, worried if Valerie might’ve been watching, but I didn’t spot her anywhere. And just when I thought Nicholas might reach me, somebody approached him and started making conversation. I took that as my opportunity to grab a new tray of appetizers Paolo had put out and make my escape.

I moved quickly, balancing the fresh tray of canapés in my hands, keeping my head down as I skirted the edge of the garden. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I focused on the task in front of me: deliver the food, avoid Nicholas, and keep things professional — exactly the way Valerie had made painfully clear I needed to.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

I rounded a corner near the far end of the garden, heading toward a quieter cluster of guests when a firm hand caught my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. My breath hitched, and I turned sharply to find Nicholas standing there, his fingers still loosely wrapped around my arm. His dark eyes searched mine, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low but urgent.

I hesitated, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” I murmured, trying to keep my tone even.

His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t fall away either. “Please,” he said, his gaze holding mine. “Just for a minute.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. Against every ounce of better judgment, I nodded. “Fine. One minute.”

He let go of my arm, his hand brushing against mine briefly as he led me toward a more secluded corner of the garden, away from the prying eyes of guests and, more importantly, Valerie.

When we stopped, he turned to face me fully, his expression tight. He took the tray of canapés from my hands and set it down on a nearby ledge before running a hand through his hair, his fingers briefly tangling in the strands before resting on the back of his neck. He looked as if he were trying to find the right words, but the silence stretched between us, thick and charged.

“Nicholas,” I said softly, trying to break whatever tension was building. “You shouldn’t—”

“I don’t care what I should or shouldn’t do right now,” he interrupted, his voice low but sharp. “I need to ask you something.”

I blinked, taken aback by his sudden intensity. “What?”

His eyes searched mine, a mix of frustration and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Did she say something to you?” he asked, his tone urgent. “Earlier, when you were setting the tables — did she?”

The question hit me like a jolt. Of course, he’d noticed. Nicholas was too observant for his own good. I opened my mouth to deny it, to brush it off as nothing, but the look in his eyes stopped me. He already knew the answer.

“Why does it matter?” I hedged, looking down at the tray still balanced in my hands. “She’s your fiancée, and I’m just—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, cutting me off again. His voice softened, but the edge remained. “Don’t finish that sentence,” he huffed deeply.

My chest tightened, and I forced myself to look at him. “She just told me to keep it professional,” I said, my voice quieter now.

Nicholas let out a frustrated breath, his jaw tightening. “She had no right to say anything to you.”

“She’s your fiancée,” I said, forcing the words out even though they felt like knives on my tongue. “She has every right to say whatever she wants. And she’s not wrong, Nicholas. You’re here with me instead of out there with your pregnant fiancée.”

He flinched, as if my words had struck him, but he didn’t look away. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach for me but was holding himself back. His gaze burned into mine, his dark eyes filled with a storm of emotions I couldn’t unravel. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair again. “Fuck. This is so much more complicated than I thought it would be.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as I watched him struggle with whatever was going on in his head. I reached for the tray of canapés I had set down.

“Where are you going?” He asked quietly, hesitantly stepping toward me.

“I gave you a minute,” I spoke softly. “I have to get back to work.”

Nicholas reached out, his hand brushing my arm lightly as if to stop me. “Wait,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Just… I’m sorry.”

I froze, my fingers tightening around the tray as I turned back to face him. For a moment, I thought he might apologize for what happened between us, since he never did, but that was just me being hopeful. “Sorry for what?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even, though my chest felt like it might collapse under the weight of the tension between us.

“For her,” he said bluntly, his jaw tightening. “For the way she spoke to you. She doesn’t know you — she doesn’t know anything about you — and she had no right to talk to you like that.”

I let out a sharp laugh, the sound more bitter than I intended. “You don’t have to apologize for her, Nicholas. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he shot back, his voice low and firm. “And I don’t want you thinking for a second that I agree with anything she said.” He took a step closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “You don’t deserve that.”

My breath caught, and for a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The sincerity in his voice, the way his gaze held mine — it was too much. I glanced away, breaking the spell, and shifted the tray in my hands.

I looked down at the tray in my hands. “Get back to the party, Nic,” I said softly, using the nickname I hadn’t dared say in years.

Nicholas froze at the sound of his nickname on my lips, his eyes softening even as his jaw clenched. He stepped closer, closing the space between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Don’t call me that unless you mean it,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to keep himself from saying more.

My heart raced, my grip tightening on the tray as I looked up at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

He let out a frustrated huff, his hand reaching out to brush against my arm. “You do,” he murmured, his tone softening. “You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N).”

“Go back to the party, Nicholas,” I whispered again, my voice steadier this time. “Your fiancée’s probably wondering where you are.”

The words were like acid on my tongue, but they had the desired effect. His expression shifted, the tension in his shoulders returning as he nodded stiffly.

“Right,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair before turning away. He didn’t look back as he disappeared into the crowd of guests, his figure blending into the polished chaos of the brunch.

My hands trembled as I held the tray, forcing myself to breathe, to move, to pretend like my entire world hadn’t just shifted. I exhaled sharply, my chest burning as I turned and headed back toward the kitchen. My hands trembled slightly, the tray of canapés feeling heavier than it should.

Paolo glanced up as I set the tray down on the counter, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in my flushed face and trembling hands.

“Let me guess,” he said dryly, setting down the whisk he’d been using to whip cream. “The prince found you.”

I shot him a look, but there was no heat behind it. “Not now, Paolo.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender but didn’t push further, thankfully. Instead, he handed me a glass of water, his brow furrowed with genuine concern.

I took the glass and downed it in one go, the cool water doing little to calm the storm raging inside me. I set the glass down and leaned against the counter, closing my eyes as I tried to steady my breathing.

This was a mistake. All of it. Letting him talk to me, letting him get under my skin again — it was dangerous, and I knew better. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore the way his words lingered, the way his gaze burned into me, the way he’d said my name like it still meant something to him. The way he’d apologized, not for himself, but for her.

Just then, Mrs. Chavez’s voice rang loudly through a speaker outside.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please!” Mrs. Chavez’s polished voice rang through the garden, cutting through the hum of chatter. “It’s time for a toast to officially welcome my son Nicholas and his beautiful fiancée, Valerie, back home!”

A polite round of applause followed, and my stomach churned. Paolo shot me a knowing glance, but I shook my head, silently begging him not to say anything. I pushed off the counter, needing to keep moving, to focus on anything other than the fact that I was about to witness yet another public display of their perfect union.

“Here, take these,” Paolo said, handing me another tray of hors d’oeuvres. “But if you need to take a break, I can cover for you.”

I forced a smile, taking the tray from his hands. He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, turning back to his station as I made my way outside.

The garden was packed now, with guests clustered around. Mrs. Chavez stood near the head of the gathering, a crystal glass of champagne in hand and a radiant smile on her face. Nicholas and Valerie stood beside her, their hands intertwined, the perfect picture of a couple madly in love.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Mrs. Chavez continued, her voice warm and commanding. “It means so much to have you all here to celebrate Nicholas’s homecoming. And, of course, we’re thrilled to welcome Valerie into the family.”

Another round of applause erupted, and I clenched the tray in my hands, willing myself to stay calm.

“Nicholas, we are so proud of everything you’ve accomplished,” Mrs. Chavez went on, her eyes shining as she looked at her son. “And we couldn’t be more excited for this next chapter of your life.”

My chest tightened as I watched Nicholas glance down at Valerie, his smile faltering for just a moment before he quickly recovered while Valerie beamed up at him like the doting fiancée she was supposed to be.

Mrs. Chavez raised her glass higher. “To Nicholas and Valerie, and to the beautiful journey ahead of them!”

“To Nicholas and Valerie!” the crowd echoed, raising their glasses in unison.

I stayed near the back of the gathering, blending into the sea of staff and guests as best I could, offering hors d'oeuvres to the guests who weren’t already sipping champagne. My eyes flicked to Nicholas, unwilling but unable to stop myself from watching him. His gaze swept over the crowd, searching for something — or someone.

And then his eyes locked onto mine.

The air felt like it had been sucked out of the garden. Nicholas’s gaze bore into mine, unwavering and intense, as if he could see straight through me. My heart thudded against my ribcage, and for a moment, I forgot where I was, the tray of hors d’oeuvres suddenly feeling like an anchor in my hands.

His fiancée’s voice cut through the moment. “Nic,” she said sweetly, tugging lightly on his arm. “Everyone’s waiting to hear from you.”

He blinked, breaking the connection between us, and turned his attention back to her. The crowd quieted as Nicholas stepped forward, his hand still loosely holding hers. His usual confident demeanor faltered slightly, his jaw tightening as he accepted the microphone from his mother.

“Thank you, everyone,” he began, his voice steady but with an edge I recognized — frustration, maybe even exhaustion. “It’s great to be back home, surrounded by family and friends. And, of course, with Valerie by my side as we—” His words hesitated, the pause so slight I doubted anyone else noticed. “—start this new chapter.”

The crowd clapped politely, but my focus wasn’t on them. It was on him, the way his free hand tightened into a fist at his side, the way his eyes darted back to mine for a fraction of a second before quickly shifting away.

I needed to get out of there. My fingers gripped the edge of the tray as I stepped backward, retreating toward the house. My breath came in shallow bursts, my chest tight with a mix of emotions I couldn’t even begin to sort through.

As I returned to the kitchen, my mom and Paolo were conversing, something about how she loved the food. I never told her what happened between Nicholas and I all those years ago, so when I saw her, I made sure to keep my cool in front of her.

My mom glanced up as I entered, her face lighting up with a smile. “Oh, there you are! Isn’t it such a lovely event? Mrs. Chavez really outdid herself this time.”

I forced a smile, nodding as I set the tray down on the counter. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” I said, keeping my tone light.

Paolo raised an eyebrow, glancing between me and my mom. He grabbed another tray of appetizers and headed for the door, muttering something about keeping the guests happy.

My mom moved closer, smoothing her apron as she studied me. “You look pale, sweetheart. Have you eaten anything today?”

I shook my head quickly, waving off her concern. “I’m fine, Mom. Just a little warm out there, that’s all.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, the way they always did when she didn’t quite believe me, but she let it go. “Well, don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You know how these events can be.”

I nodded, mumbling a quick “I won’t” before busying myself with tidying the counter. She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping back out to join the staff overseeing the buffet.

As soon as she was gone, I leaned against the counter, letting out a shaky breath. My hands still trembled slightly, and my chest felt tight, but I couldn’t afford to lose my composure. Not here, not now.

I reached for a glass of water, trying to calm myself, but the kitchen door swung open again before I could take a sip.

Paolo was back, but he wasn’t alone.

Nicholas stepped into the kitchen behind him, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. Paolo glanced back at him, then at me, and let out a low whistle. “You know, I think I’m just gonna…find something to do outside,” he said, quickly slipping out the door and leaving us alone.

Nicholas’s gaze found mine immediately, his dark eyes locked onto me with an intensity that made my breath catch. He closed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the now-empty kitchen.

“What are you doing in here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended as I set the glass down with a little too much force.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, his voice low but firm.

I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest as I took a step back. “We already talked, Nicholas. And I told you—”

“That wasn’t a conversation,” he interrupted, his tone hardening. “That was you running away.”

I froze, the words hitting a little too close to home. “I wasn’t running away,” I said defensively.

His gaze softened slightly, but the frustration still lingered. “Then stop pushing me away,” he said, taking a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me left and right.”

“I haven’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was quiet, but it cut through the space between us like a knife. “And it’s not just today. You’ve been avoiding me for years, (Y/N). Every time I come back here, you disappear. Every. Fucking. Time.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. What could I say? That he was right? That seeing him after everything was too much? That I didn’t trust myself to be near him?

He spoke again. “I know things are…complicated right now, but—”

“Complicated?” I snapped, my voice rising despite myself. “You’re engaged, Nicholas. She’s pregnant. That’s not complicated — that’s final.”

He flinched at the words. “It’s not as simple as you think.”

Before I could open my mouth to retort, Maria stepped into the kitchen. Nicholas and I stepped away from each other, avoiding her gaze as she awkwardly navigated through the kitchen looking for something before stepping back out.

As soon as the door clicked behind her, I opened my mouth. “Please, Nicholas,” I said, my voice firmer this time as I looked up at him. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his dark eyes searching mine as if he could find a way to make me stay. But then he nodded, stepping back with a defeated look that broke something inside me.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly before turning and walking out the door, leaving me alone in the quiet kitchen.

I stood there for a long moment, the weight of everything crashing down on me. I fought back the tears, clutching my tummy and breathing through it.

Paolo came back into the kitchen with some empty trays in hand. I watched him pass by, the door clicking shut behind him, and let out a shaky breath. Paolo glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“You sure you don’t want to stab some dough?” he asked lightly, his tone laced with concern.

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “No. But thanks for the offer.”

My fingers gripped the counter, willing myself to be calm. But how could I? When I would be working under the same roof as Nicholas and his pregnant fiancée? It was going to be a fucking disaster.

The next few days passed in a blur of routine and tension so thick it felt like it might snap at any moment. The estate was alive with activity, with staff rushing to accommodate the new guests while maintaining the meticulous standards Mrs. Chavez demanded. I threw myself into work, scrubbing floors, polishing silver, and reorganizing storage closets that didn’t even need it. Anything to keep my mind occupied and my interactions with Nicholas — and her — to a minimum. But it was impossible to avoid them entirely.

Every time I turned a corner, it felt like I ran into them. Her laughter echoed through the halls as she chatted with Mrs. Chavez, her heels clicking against the marble floors as she walked arm-in-arm with Nicholas to dinner or out to the garden for a stroll. She looked every bit the perfect fiancée, radiant and confident, and Nicholas played his role just as well. He smiled when she spoke, nodded when she made a joke, and rested his hand lightly on the small of her back as they walked. They were picture-perfect. But I couldn’t help noticing the cracks.

It was subtle, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention. The way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when she leaned into him. The slight hesitation in his voice when he agreed with her about something trivial. The way his laugh sounded hollow whenever she told him something that was supposed to be funny. The way he glanced at me when he thought no one was looking, his expression unreadable but heavy with something I couldn’t name.

And then there was her.

She wasn’t as perfect as she appeared. She had a habit of nitpicking the staff’s work, pointing out the smallest imperfections in a way that felt more like asserting dominance than genuine concern. She constantly asked for things she didn’t really need — a different brand of water, freshly ironed pillowcases in the middle of the day — and always with a saccharine smile that didn’t quite hide the edge in her voice. She didn’t like me. That much was clear.

She didn’t say it outright, of course. She was too polished for that. But the way she watched me, the subtle digs in her words, the way she lingered just a little too long in the places I was working — it all made her feelings obvious. Still, I tried to keep my head down and focus on my job. I reminded myself that I didn’t matter to her, but the tension between us only seemed to grow.

The next crack appeared one morning, just as the estate was waking up. I was helping Paolo prep for breakfast in the kitchen — slicing fresh fruit, arranging pastries on a silver platter, and listening to his usual banter about how Americans don’t understand the value of a properly cooked egg. The rhythmic routine was almost enough to settle the nerves that had been my constant companion since Nicholas’s return.

Almost.

The door swung open, and the kitchen’s hum fell into a brief lull as Nicholas strolled in, followed closely by Valerie. His white t-shirt clung to him in a way that shouldn’t have caught my attention, but it did, and I forced my gaze back to the counter in front of me, slicing the strawberries a little too quickly.

“Morning, Paolo,” Nicholas said, his voice casual but warm. “Do you mind if we eat breakfast in here? The dining room feels… too much today.”

“Of course,” Paolo replied with a grin, always eager to play host to the family’s golden son. “Have a seat. I’ll whip up something special for you both.”

Valerie slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, her glossy hair still wet from a shower and tucked behind her ears. She looked effortlessly stunning, even in something as simple as a very loose-fitting tank top and yoga pants. It was infuriating how perfect she seemed, even now.

Nicholas leaned against the counter, his dark eyes scanning the spread of fresh ingredients I had sliced and diced. As I continued slicing strawberries, I could see Nicholas’s eyes flick over to me from my periphery and before he even had the chance to open his mouth, I glanced over to Valerie, who was already watching me and him. I grabbed the cutting board and turned my back to them, setting it down on the counter next to the stove and continuing my task.

“Paolo, do you have any leftover champagne from the brunch?” Valerie asked. “I’m craving a mimosa.”

I froze, the knife in my hand pausing mid-slice as the words sank in. Huh?

Paolo’s cheerful demeanor didn’t falter, though I caught the briefest flicker of surprise in his eyes from the corner of my eyes. “Ah, let me check. But, uh…” He glanced at Nicholas, then at Valerie, a question hanging unspoken in the air. “Is that…okay?”

Nicholas frowned slightly, his head tilting in confusion before realization dawned on his face. “Oh,” he said, his tone cautious as he turned to her. “Babe, you’re not supposed to drink while pregnant.”

Valerie blinked, her lips parting as if caught off guard. She recovered quickly, her laugh light and breezy. “Oh, come on, Nic. It’s just one mimosa. The doctor said a little bit of alcohol is fine, especially this early.”

Nicholas didn’t look convinced, his brow furrowing as he leaned closer to her, whispering, “Early? I thought you were almost four months.”

She waved him off with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, the movement almost theatrical. “You worry too much. It’s fine. It’s not like I’m downing tequila shots or anything.”

I kept my head down, forcing my hands to keep moving as I finished slicing the strawberries. My heart pounded in my chest, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. Paolo’s silence stretched on a beat too long before he cleared his throat and gave her a polite nod.

“Let me grab a bottle,” he said, turning toward the pantry.

Nicholas straightened, his unease lingering in his expression as he looked at her again. “I’m just saying, maybe we should check with your doctor before—”

“Nic,” she interrupted, her voice firm but still sweet. “It’s fine. Trust me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to me briefly before he sighed and gave her a small nod. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

She flashed him a brilliant smile, her fingers brushing against his arm. “Thank you, baby. You’re the best.”

Paolo returned moments later with a chilled bottle of champagne, and I forced myself to focus on the fruit in front of me, pretending not to notice as he handed it over. Valerie poured herself a mimosa with practiced ease, the splash of champagne fizzing into the glass, and took a delicate sip.

Nicholas watched her, his brow still furrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything else. He picked up a piece of toast from the platter Paolo had set out and leaned against the counter, biting into it absently.

Paolo’s eyes flicked to me, a subtle glance that told me he’d noticed it too. I gave the smallest shake of my head, silently telling him to let it go. It wasn’t our place to question her. Not yet, anyway.

“Alright, what do you want to eat, hmm?” Paolo asked Nicholas with forced cheerfulness, breaking the tension that had settled over the room.

Nicholas smiled faintly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he answered. But my focus remained on Valerie, who was now casually scrolling through her phone with her mimosa in hand, looking completely unbothered.

The moment passed, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as Paolo worked his magic in the kitchen. But the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. It stayed there, a quiet, nagging reminder that something wasn’t quite right.

I tried to shake off the unease as the morning unfolded, immersing myself in mundane tasks to keep my mind from spinning in a hundred different directions. But it was no use. The scene in the kitchen kept replaying in my head, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

The thing was, her request for a mimosa wasn’t just off — it was brazen. Most women wouldn’t risk even the perception of drinking while pregnant, especially not in front of their fiancé and staff. Yet she had smiled, shrugged off Nicholas’s concerns, and taken that sip without a second thought.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, I found myself outside, sweeping the stone pathway leading to the garden. The rhythmic scrape of the broom against the ground was almost meditative, drowning out the world around me. Or at least, it was until Paolo appeared, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with something more subdued.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice low as he approached. “Got a minute?”

I paused, leaning the broom against the nearby wall. “What’s up?”

He glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one else was within earshot, before stepping closer. “About this morning,” he began, his tone careful. “Did that feel…off to you?”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the handle of the broom. “You mean the mimosa thing?”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s not my business, but…it just didn’t sit right.”

I exhaled slowly, unsure of how much to say. “It didn’t sit right with me either,” I admitted. “Maybe she’s just careless,” I suggested weakly, though I didn’t believe it myself.

Paolo shook his head, his expression unreadable. “Maybe.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between us, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The distant sound of Nicholas’s laughter from the main house floated on the breeze, a stark contrast to the unease hanging in the air.

“Oh, my god,” I managed to speak through a fit of quiet  laughter, “I can’t believe you just said that, Nic.”

Nic and I were cuddling on the couch in the living room, laying down with our legs tangled together as we quietly watched a movie — Parasite — in our pajamas. He had his skinny arm wrapped around my waist, his hand carefully clutching my tummy so I wouldn’t fall off the edge.

It was well into the night, 2:38AM. His family was out for the weekend, my mom was too busy catching up on sleep to notice me sneaking out. He wasn’t supposed to be in the house, and neither was I; he had told his mom he’d be staying with a friend while they were gone, but he snuck us back into the estate, wanting to spend time with me.

The glow from the television flickered across the room, casting faint shadows over the walls as we lay there, cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The world outside could’ve crumbled, and I wouldn’t have noticed — not with the warmth of his body pressed against mine, his laughter rumbling softly in my ear

His laughter rumbled in his chest, warm and quiet, as he tightened his hold on me. “I’m just saying,” Nic murmured, his breath warm against my neck, “if I ever find a hidden stash of money, you’re the first person I’m calling. We’ll disappear together and live like royalty in some obscure village in Europe.”

I tilted my head back to look at him, my laughter fading into a quiet smile. “That’s the worst idea ever, Nic. We’d get caught in, like, a week.”

He smirked, his dark brown eyes gleaming with mischief. “Not if you’re the one planning the escape. You’re way too good at being sneaky.”

“Me?” I scoffed, nudging his side with my elbow. “You’re the one who snuck back into your own house like a criminal.”

He grinned, unrepentant. “What can I say? I missed you.”

The weight of his words hung between us, heavy and meaningful. My heart skipped, the warmth of his body against mine suddenly feeling too intense. I tried to play it off, rolling my eyes as I adjusted the blanket draped over us. “You’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he teased, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “Admit it, baby.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding at the way he said the word baby. It was a nickname he used sparingly, but every time he did, it felt like he was branding it into my skin.

“Maybe,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my temple. “I knew it.”

I didn’t respond, instead focusing on the movie playing on the screen. We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came after hours of talking and laughing. The room felt like its own little world, separate from the chaos of reality, the weight of his looming departure momentarily forgotten. But the heat of his gaze on me was impossible to ignore. After a moment, I felt his hand tighten slightly on my waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my shirt in a soothing motion.

“Maybe you could go with me,” he said after a while, his voice quieter now.

I froze, my stomach twisting at his words. I turned my head to look at him, my brows furrowing. “Nic—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted, his expression earnest. “You could leave here and come with me. You can transfer to UCLA or something.”

For a moment, I let myself imagine it — the two of us starting over in Los Angeles, far away from all the pressures and expectations that seemed to define his life here. A part of me knew better than to believe him, knew this was nothing more than a fleeting fantasy. But another part of me — the part that still clung to the idea of us, of him — couldn’t help but entertain the idea.

“Tell me what it would be like,” I said suddenly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Our life in L.A.,” I said, opening my eyes to meet his. “If I went with you. Tell me what it would be like.”

Nic’s eyes lit up, a boyish grin spreading across his face as if he’d been waiting for me to ask. He shifted on the couch, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look down at me, his fingers still tracing soft circles on my waist.

“Okay,” he began, his voice filled with excitement, “we’d get this tiny apartment in West Hollywood. Nothing fancy, just enough space for us and, like, one really ugly couch that we’d find at a thrift store.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’d get the couch, wouldn’t you?”

“Obviously,” he said, grinning. “It’d have the worst pattern — like neon flowers or something — but it’d be ours. And we’d make it work because we’d have a killer view of the city from our fire escape.”

“Oh, so we’re hanging out on the fire escape now?” I teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Hell yeah,” he said, his voice laced with a mix of seriousness and playfulness. “We’d sit out there at night with a bottle of cheap wine — you’d drink most of it because I’m not really into wine — and we’d watch the city lights until the sun came up. And every once in a while, I’d make you listen to me practice lines for auditions.”

I snorted. “I’d probably end up being better at your lines than you.”

“You probably would,” he admitted, smirking. “But then you’d have to promise not to steal my roles.”

“No promises,” I said, my smile softening as I looked up at him. “What else?”

“Well,” he continued, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, “you’d enroll at UCLA, and you’d absolutely crush it. You’d have this whole group of friends who’d think you were the coolest person ever. And I’d show up after my auditions and embarrass you by making dumb jokes in front of them.”

I rolled my eyes, but my chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. “Sounds terrible.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and leaned closer, his forehead resting against mine. “It wouldn’t be, though,” he said softly. “It’d be perfect. Just you and me, figuring it all out together.”

For a moment, I let myself believe him. I let myself imagine waking up in a tiny, sunlit apartment, tangled in sheets that smelled like him. I imagined late-night conversations on that ugly thrift store couch, walking hand-in-hand through streets I’d never been to, and stealing kisses on a fire escape with the city buzzing around us. It was a beautiful dream, one that made my chest ache with both longing and dread.

But dreams weren’t reality.

“We can worry about all of that later,” I said quietly, breaking the spell. “Right now it’s just you and me — right here.”

Nic studied me, his dark eyes flickering with an emotion I couldn’t quite name. His hand lingered against my cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of my jaw. The air between us was heavy, charged with unspoken feelings that neither of us dared to put into words.

“Right here,” he echoed softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Okay.”

I leaned into his touch, letting my eyes flutter shut as I memorized the way his skin felt against mine, the warmth of his body pressed so close to me.

Nic’s hand slid from my cheek, his arm wrapping securely around my waist once more as he pulled me closer. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was comforting, grounding in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

For a long time, neither of us spoke. The movie played on, its plot forgotten as we soaked in the warmth of each other’s presence. Nic’s fingers absently traced patterns on my side, his touch light and soothing.

“I’ll just hide in your suitcase. No one will ever know,” I joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Nic let out a soft laugh, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “You’d probably get me arrested.”

“Worth it,” I teased, though my voice wavered slightly.

He tightened his hold on me, his smile fading as his expression turned serious once more. The tension between us was palpable, the moment stretching out like it was trying to make up for all the time we wouldn’t have later. I leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, trying to convey everything I couldn’t put into words. He responded immediately, his hand slipping into my hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling me impossibly closer.

I wanted to believe him, to let myself get swept away in the fantasy of us. But deep down, I knew better. He had a whole world waiting for him, a world that didn’t include late-night movie marathons and whispered promises on the couch. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to let go — not yet.

I pressed a soft kiss to his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart fill the silence between us. We both knew the truth — no matter how much we wanted to hold on to this moment, the future was already rushing toward us, unstoppable and inevitable.

But for now, we pretended it wasn’t. We pretended we had all the time in the world, cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the living room, holding on to each other as if the rest of the world didn’t exist, as if the moment would never end.

“Should we keep an eye out?” Paolo asked quietly.

I blinked, the vivid memory dissolving as Paolo’s question pulled me back to the present. The garden’s hum of distant conversation and the clinking of glasses filtered into my awareness again. I turned to him, my fingers tightening around the broom handle.

“Keep an eye out for what?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

Paolo tilted his head toward the house, where Nicholas and Valerie had disappeared moments ago. “For her,” he said, his tone careful. “Something’s…off, don’t you think?”

I hesitated, the question hanging heavy between us. The mimosa incident replayed in my mind, along with the countless subtle digs and sharp smiles she’d thrown my way. But I wasn’t sure how to answer Paolo without revealing more than I should.

“I don’t think it’s our business,” I said finally, my voice firm even as my chest tightened. “Whatever’s going on between them, it’s… not for us to get involved.”

Paolo studied me, his sharp eyes narrowing as if he could see straight through the lie I’d just told. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he nodded slowly. “Maybe not,” he conceded, though the doubt lingered in his tone. “But if she keeps acting like she owns the place — and if she keeps treating you like that — I might have to accidentally spill some perfume in her mimosas.”

I let out a startled laugh, the sound louder than I intended. It felt good, even if it was fleeting. “Don’t you dare, Paolo,” I said, shaking my head. “Mrs. Chavez would fire both of us on the spot.”

Paolo shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Worth it.”

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth of his humor helped chip away at the tension that had been coiled in my chest all day. I tightened my grip on the broom and turned back to the path I’d been sweeping. “Let’s just get through this week without any dramatic incidents, okay?”

Paolo didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was softer. “You know, (Y/N), you’re too good at keeping quiet. But don’t forget, not everyone deserves that kind of grace.”

His words struck a chord I didn’t want to acknowledge, so I simply nodded, keeping my focus on the broom as I swept the pathway. Paolo lingered for a moment longer before heading back toward the kitchen, whistling a cheerful tune that didn’t quite match the lingering weight of our conversation.

As I worked, the sunlight began to fade, casting long shadows across the garden. The air grew cooler, the estate slowly returned to its usual quiet, the chaotic energy of the morning giving way to a calm that felt almost eerie in its contrast.

By the time I finished my tasks and made my way back inside, the house felt empty, save for the faint murmur of voices coming from the sitting room. I didn’t need to look to know who was there. The pull of his presence was unmistakable, and I felt it in the way my heart skipped, the way my steps faltered as I passed by the open doorway.

Nicholas’s voice carried out softly, low and warm as he spoke to his mother. Valerie was there too, her laughter light and airy, perfectly timed to whatever joke he’d just made.

I paused just out of sight, my fingers brushing against the doorframe as I lingered for a moment longer than I should have. The sound of Nicholas’s voice, rich and familiar, sent a pang through my chest, the warmth of it bringing back every memory I’d tried to bury.

“Nic, tell Valerie about the time you got locked out of the house and tried to climb through the kitchen window,” Mrs. Chavez said, her voice filled with amusement. “You were what — eighteen? And had the nerve to blame Paolo for not leaving it open.”

“Oh, come on,” Nicholas said, his tone light and teasing. “Paolo swore he’d leave it open for me. And in my defense, I made it halfway through before I got stuck.”

I could picture it so vividly — Nicholas’s sheepish grin, the warmth in his eyes as he spun the story for maximum comedic effect. It was a part of him I’d always loved, the way he could charm a room without even trying. And now, watching him slip so effortlessly back into his role as the golden son, I felt a sharp ache of longing for the way things used to be.

I forced myself to move, slipping past the doorway as quietly as I could and heading for the hallway to make my way to the half-bath and have a few moments for myself before having to clock out with my mom and go home.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, locking it softly before leaning back against the cold wood. My chest heaved as I fought to regulate my breathing, the weight of the day pressing against my ribcage like an iron vice.

I couldn’t help but think about what Nicholas had told me a few days ago during the homecoming brunch, his words echoing in my mind, as clear and haunting as the memory of his touch.

“It’s not as simple as you think.”

I didn’t know what he meant. Was it an excuse? A warning? A plea? I couldn’t tell. Nicholas had always been so good at telling me exactly what I wanted to hear, but this… this felt different. There was a heaviness in his voice that lingered, gnawing at me like a question I didn’t dare ask.

I closed my eyes, letting the faint hum of the air vent fill the silence as I replayed every word, every glance, every moment of the past few days. What wasn’t simple? His engagement? Her pregnancy? Or was it… us?

I hated that my mind even went there. Hated the way my stomach flipped at the unfounded idea that he might still feel something for me. Hated that despite everything — the years, the distance, the her — I still felt tethered to him in a way that defied logic and reason. It wasn’t fair for any of us.

I pressed my palms against the cool porcelain sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes wide and glassy. I looked like someone I didn’t recognize — someone who was still clinging to the past, hoping for something that could never be.

With a deep breath, I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face. The sharp chill jolted me out of my thoughts, grounding me in the present. I couldn’t afford to spiral, not now. Not when I still had to face him again. Not when I had to walk out of this house and pretend like I didn’t feel like I was falling apart from the inside out.

Gripping the edge of the sink, I let the water run for a moment longer, watching as it swirled down the drain. I wanted to believe it could take my feelings with it, flushing them away until there was nothing left but the professional, composed person I was supposed to be.

But the ache in my chest remained, stubborn and unrelenting.

I dried my face with a towel, smoothing down the front of my uniform as I straightened up. My reflection stared back at me, and for a moment, I almost believed the mask I was wearing. Almost.

As I unlocked the door and stepped back into the hallway, the faint murmur of voices from the sitting room reached my ears again. Nicholas’s laugh cut through the noise, warm and familiar, sending a shiver down my spine.

My mom, Paolo, and Maria approached me then.

“Ready to go?” My mom asked with a smile. I nodded my head. “Okay, let’s go say bye.”

“Sure,” I replied softly, forcing a small smile. The last thing I wanted was another moment in that sitting room, another chance for Nicholas to look at me with those unreadable dark eyes. But I nodded and followed my mom and the others down the hall, my steps heavy with reluctance.

The sitting room came into view, the golden glow of the chandelier illuminating the scene like a snapshot of perfection. Mrs. Chavez stood near the fireplace, her glass of wine held delicately in one hand as she laughed at something Nicholas had said. Valerie sat on the couch beside him, her hand resting on his knee, her expression poised and radiant.

I lingered in the doorway, letting my mom take the lead. She greeted Mrs. Chavez warmly, the two women exchanging pleasantries while Paolo and Maria offered polite smiles. I stayed a step behind them, hoping to blend into the background and avoid drawing any attention to myself, just as Valerie warned me to do all those days ago. But, of course, Nicholas’s gaze found me almost immediately.

It was as if he had some sort of radar that zeroed in on me the second I entered a room. His dark eyes softened when they landed on mine, the faintest flicker of something unspoken passing between us. I couldn’t place it — regret, longing, guilt? Maybe all of it.

I tried to look away, to focus on Mrs. Chavez’s effusive gratitude or the polite laughter of the staff. But his gaze pinned me in place, and for a moment, the room fell away. The warmth of the chandelier, the clinking of glasses, the sound of Valerie’s light laughter — they all faded, leaving only the two of us locked in a silent battle of wills.

I could see the questions in his eyes, could feel the weight of his unspoken words pressing against my chest. But I couldn’t give him anything. Not here. Not now.

“(Y/N),” Mrs. Chavez said, her voice breaking through the moment like a sharp blade. “Thank you so much for your hard work this week and being accommodating for Nicholas and Valerie their first week here. Truly, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

My lips stretched into a polite smile as I nodded. “It’s always a pleasure, Mrs. Chavez. I’m glad everything went smoothly.”

“It went better than smoothly,” Valerie chimed in, her voice saccharine sweet. “You’ve been such a big help. We’re all so lucky to have you.”

Her words dripped with false sincerity, the subtle emphasis on help making my stomach churn. She smiled at me, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn’t quite name. Possession, maybe? Control?

“Thank you,” I managed, keeping my voice steady. “I’m glad I could assist.”

My mom gave Mrs. Chavez a final warm goodbye before turning to me, her smile gentle but tired. “Ready to head home, sweetheart?”

I nodded quickly, eager to escape the suffocating tension that seemed to follow me like a shadow. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Drive safely!” Mrs. Chavez called out, her tone cheerful as we turned to leave.

“Goodnight,” Nicholas said softly, his voice so low I doubted anyone else heard it. But I did. And it was enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I didn’t turn back. I couldn’t. I followed my mom and the others out of the sitting room, keeping my head down and my pace brisk. But as we stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze still on me, like a ghost trailing behind.

The car ride home was quiet. My mom chatted lightly with Paolo and Maria, but I stayed silent, staring out the window as the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes as I tried to banish the thoughts. But they wouldn’t go away. They clung to me, persistent and unrelenting, like the ghost of a dream I couldn’t let go.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to hate how easily he could unravel me with a single glance. But more than that, I wanted to hate myself for letting him. For still caring. For still hoping.

That night, long after my mom had gone to bed and the house was enveloped in an almost oppressive silence, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

I wasn’t expecting anyone to call — least of all him. But when I saw Nicholas’s name on the screen, my stomach flipped. I hadn’t seen his name flash across my phone in over four years. He would call sporadically when he first moved to Los Angeles, but I never bothered to answer him, still hurt. But he persisted, checking up on me for over a year, but eventually those interactions petered out until they stopped completely.

My first instinct was to ignore it, to pretend I didn’t see it and let it go to voicemail. But my fingers betrayed me, and before I knew it, I was answering.

“What are you doing?” I asked without preamble, keeping my voice low as I climbed out of bed and walked over to my window to look out into the neighborhood.

“So you do answer the phone,” he said softly, the warmth of his voice disarming. It was the same tone he’d used years ago when he’d call late at night, just because he was bored or couldn’t sleep. “Did I wake you?”

I glanced at the clock. It was just past 2AM. “No,” I lied. “But you shouldn’t be calling me.”

“Why not?” he asked, a teasing lilt creeping into his tone.

“Because it’s two in the morning,” I replied, leaning against the window frame. I glanced out into the quiet street, the glow of the streetlights casting faint shadows on the pavement. “And because you shouldn’t be calling me, period.”

Nicholas chuckled softly, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “God, you haven’t changed at all. Always scolding me like I’m some kind of delinquent.”

“Maybe because you were a delinquent,” I shot back. “Sneaking out, pulling pranks, climbing into windows — need I go on?”

He laughed, a low, familiar sound that made my chest ache. “Okay, fair. But you were always the one to bail me out.”

“Someone had to,” I said, crossing my arms. “Why are you calling me, Nicholas?” I asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice losing some of its playfulness. “I guess I just missed talking to you.”

The words hung between us, heavy and unspoken for so long that I wasn’t sure how to respond. Part of me wanted to hang up, to stop this before it became something I couldn’t handle. But the other part of me — the part that still remembered the way he used to make me laugh until my stomach hurt — couldn’t let go.

“You’re not allowed to miss me,” I said finally, my voice softer than I intended.

“Why not?” he asked, and there was an edge of vulnerability in his tone that made my chest tighten.

“Nic…” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish.

“Do you remember the time I snuck you into the neighborhood pool?” he asked, his voice lightening again, like he was trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

I laughed despite myself. “How could I forget? You almost got us arrested.”

“Almost,” he emphasized. “But we didn’t, thanks to my brilliant negotiation skills.”

“You mean your ability to look like a terrified boy who couldn’t possibly break the law?” I teased.

“Hey, whatever works,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “That was a good night.”

“It was,” I admitted, leaning against the window. “Even if you did almost get us caught.”

“See? You liked a little danger,” he said, his tone teasing again. “You just didn’t want to admit it.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I warned, though the smile on my face lingered.

We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came from years of knowing someone so well. For a moment, it felt like we were back in our old pattern, like the years and the distance hadn’t changed anything.

“I missed this too,” I said softly, almost to myself.

“I knew it,” he said, his voice quiet but triumphant. “You’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

“Go to bed, Nic,” I said, but there was no heat in my words.

“Goodnight, baby,” he said, the nickname slipping out so effortlessly that it took me a second to register it.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat, and I could hear the uncertainty on the other side of the line. I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the phone as my mind scrambled for a response. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, drowning out everything else.

“Nicholas,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t… you can’t call me that anymore.”

There was a pause, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. Then, his voice came through, soft and almost apologetic. “I’m sorry. It just slipped out.”

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, closing my eyes as the ache in my chest deepened. “Goodnight, Nicholas,” I whispered.

When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

I ended the call and stared at my phone for a long moment, the screen dark and lifeless in my hand. My reflection in the glass caught my eye, and I barely recognized the person staring back at me—eyes wide and glassy, lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of the past etched into every line of my face.

I turned away from the window and climbed back into bed, pulling the blankets up around me like they could shield me from the storm raging inside. But sleep didn’t come easily. His voice lingered in my mind, the way he’d said my name, the way he’d called me baby like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. And no amount of late-night phone calls could undo that.

Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I drifted into a restless sleep, the echoes of his voice haunting my dreams.

The following week, I arrived at the Chavez estate early, the morning sun casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. My stomach twisted with unease as I approached the staff entrance, the memory of Nicholas’s voice from our late-night phone call still fresh in my mind. I hadn’t seen him since that night, and I wasn’t sure what to expect when I did.

As I stepped into the kitchen, the familiar scent of coffee and fresh pastries greeted me, but the usual hum of morning activity was missing. The house felt quieter than usual, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

I moved through the hallways, heading toward the laundry room to drop off a stack of linens. As I passed by the library, faint voices reached my ears. I paused, instinctively slowing my steps as I recognized one of them.

Nicholas.

I couldn’t make out what he was saying at first, but his tone was low and tense. I edged closer, staying just out of sight behind the slightly ajar door. His voice grew clearer, and I caught snippets of the conversation.

“Why won’t you let me go with you?” Nicholas asked, frustration evident in his tone.

“I already told you, Nic,” Valerie replied, her voice sharp but hushed. “It’s not necessary. I can handle it on my own.”

“That’s not the point,” he said, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. “I’m the father of that baby. I should be there with you, especially for something as important as this.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” she said smoothly, but her tone carried an edge that made me stiffen. “You’d just be sitting around for hours, and I don’t want to waste your time.”

“It’s not a waste of time,” Nicholas shot back. “You’ve been brushing me off about these appointments for weeks now. What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on,” she insisted, her voice taking on a defensive note. “You’re overthinking this, like you always do.”

I pressed myself closer to the wall, my heart pounding in my chest. I shouldn’t be listening to this. I knew that. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t force myself to walk away.

“This isn’t just about me, Valerie,” Nicholas continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. “It’s about our baby. Don’t you get that?”

“I do,” she said, her tone softening slightly. “But you have so much on your plate already, Nic. I don’t want to add to it.”

“Stop making excuses,” he said, his voice tinged with desperation. “Valerie, if there’s something you’re not telling me…”

There was a long pause, the silence stretching out like a taut string ready to snap. When Valerie finally spoke again, her voice was icy. “You’re being ridiculous,” she said. “There’s nothing to tell, and I don’t appreciate you accusing me of hiding something.”

“I’m not accusing you,” Nicholas said, his voice heavy with frustration. “I just want to understand why you won’t let me go with you. You’re shutting me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” she snapped. “You’re just imagining things.”

The conversation ended abruptly as the sound of footsteps grew louder, and I realized too late that they were heading toward the door. I quickly ducked into a nearby hallway, pressing my back against the wall as I tried to calm my racing heart.

A moment later, the library door swung open, and Valerie strode out, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She didn’t notice me as she made her way down the hall, her posture stiff and unyielding. Nicholas followed a few seconds later, his expression grim as he ran a hand through his hair.

I held my breath, willing myself to stay hidden until they were both out of sight. Only when the house was quiet again did I step back into the hallway, my thoughts swirling with everything I’d just overheard.

Something was definitely wrong. And whatever it was, it wasn’t as simple as Valerie claimed.

I made my way over to the supply closet by the stairs, ready to start my day of work. A few hours later, as I moved between the kitchen and dining room setting up for lunch, I couldn’t help but notice how unusually quiet the house felt. It wasn’t just the lack of guests bustling around or the muted sounds of the staff — it was the absence of her.

Valerie had left for her doctor’s appointment shortly after the argument in the library, and the air felt lighter without her presence, though a sense of unease still lingered. Nicholas, on the other hand, seemed restless. I’d spotted him pacing the garden once or twice, his head bent as though deep in thought. Each time our paths crossed, he lingered a little too long, his dark eyes following me in a way that made it impossible to ignore him.

I ducked into the dining room, smoothing the tablecloth with careful precision and adjusting the silverware until it was perfectly aligned. But the sound of approaching footsteps made my stomach twist. I didn’t need to look up to know it was him.

“(Y/N).” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and I froze mid-motion, my hand gripping the edge of the table.

I took a breath before turning to face him. “Yes, Nicholas?” I said, keeping my tone polite and professional, though my pulse quickened at the sight of him standing in the doorway.

His brow furrowed at my use of formality, but he didn’t call me out on it. Instead, he stepped closer, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Can we talk?”

I glanced toward the kitchen, half-expecting someone — anyone — to walk in and save me. But the doorway remained empty. I sighed, resigning myself to the inevitable. “What is it?” I asked, straightening up.

Nicholas hesitated, as though debating how much to say. Finally, he shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Something’s not right,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously, crossing my arms over my chest.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched across his face. “She’s been acting… different. Evasive. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or something else, but she won’t let me go to any of the appointments. She won’t even show me pictures of any recent ultrasounds, and she changes the subject whenever I bring it up.”

I resisted the urge to point out the obvious — you’re asking the wrong person. Instead, I kept my expression neutral, though my mind was racing with everything I’d overheard earlier.

“Nicholas,” I began, keeping my voice steady, “maybe she’s just scared. Pregnancy can be complicated.”

“Don’t defend her,” he said sharply, his gaze snapping to mine. But then his face softened, guilt flickering in his dark eyes. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just — she’s hiding something. I can feel it.”

I looked away, unsure how to respond. His voice was heavy with an unspoken plea, and it pulled at something deep inside me. But I couldn’t get involved. Not like this.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” I said, forcing my tone to remain calm. “You’re her fiancé. She should trust you enough to tell you whatever’s on her mind.”

“And what if she doesn’t?” he asked, stepping closer. His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “What if she’s lying to me?”

The question hung in the air between us, charged with an intensity that made my chest tighten. I searched his face, looking for some indication of what he wanted from me. Reassurance? Advice? Or something else entirely?

“That’s something only she can answer,” I said finally, my voice quiet but firm. “You need to talk to her, not me.”

His jaw clenched, frustration flashing in his eyes. “I’ve tried. She shuts me out every time.”

I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. “Maybe you need to give her time. Or maybe… you need to ask yourself why she feels like she can’t be honest with you.”

Nicholas blinked, the weight of my suggestion seeming to land heavily on him. He looked down, his shoulders sagging slightly as he exhaled. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The vulnerability in his tone caught me off guard, and for a brief moment, I forgot about the walls I’d built between us. I reached out instinctively, my hand brushing against his arm. “You’ll figure it out, Nic,” I said softly, the nickname slipping out before I could stop it. “You always do.”

His head snapped up at the sound of his name on my lips, his gaze locking onto mine. The tension between us crackled like static electricity, and I quickly withdrew my hand, stepping back as reality crashed over me.

“I should get back to work,” I said hurriedly, avoiding his gaze as I moved toward the door.

“(Y/N), wait—”

But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My heart was pounding too hard, and I knew that if I stayed, I’d only end up making things worse. For both of us.

As I disappeared into the kitchen, I caught one last glimpse of him standing alone in the dining room, his expression unreadable but heavy with something I didn’t dare try to name.

Later that evening, Mrs. Chavez made a surprising announcement as the staff began cleaning up after lunch.

“Everyone, I insist you all join us for dinner tonight,” she said, her warm smile lighting up the room. “You’ve worked so hard lately, more so than usual, and I’d love for you to enjoy a meal with us as thanks for everything you do.”

Paolo shot me a curious look from across the kitchen, while my mom exchanged hesitant glances with Maria. Staff dining with the family was an unusual request, but it was hard to say no to Mrs. Chavez’s gracious invitation.

“It would be an honor, Mrs. Chavez,” my mom finally said, speaking for all of us.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was a bundle of nerves. The dining room had been transformed into an elegant yet intimate setting, with candles flickering softly on the long table. The guests were fewer now — the younger Chavez children, Mrs. Chavez and her husband, Nicholas and Valerie, and us — but the air of formality remained.

I sat between Paolo and my mom, doing my best to stay inconspicuous as the Chavez family took their seats at the head of the table. Nicholas was directly across from me, with Valerie beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She looked radiant as always, her smile bright and practiced as she engaged in polite conversation with Mrs. Chavez. But I couldn’t shake the memory of Nicholas’s earlier confession.

Paolo must have sensed the tension because he leaned over, his voice low as he murmured, “Relax, (Y/N). It’s just dinner. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I managed a weak smile, but the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.

Dinner began smoothly enough. Paolo, ever the entertainer, kept the conversation light with stories of his childhood in Sicily, drawing laughter from everyone at the table — even Valerie.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to sneak a goat into my grandmother’s kitchen?” he asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Mrs. Chavez chuckled. “A goat, Paolo? You must tell us the whole story.”

As Paolo launched into the tale, I stole a glance at Nicholas. He wasn’t laughing; instead, he seemed distracted, his gaze flicking toward me more often than was comfortable. I quickly looked away, focusing on cutting my steak into tiny, precise pieces. And every time I dared to look up, his dark eyes met mine, holding me captive for a fraction of a second before I forced myself to look away.

It wasn’t just the glances — it was the way he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as though he were restless. The way his smile never quite reached his eyes when he laughed at Paolo’s story. The way his attention drifted from Valerie every time she spoke, his responses automatic and distant.

Halfway through the meal, Valerie excused herself, a delicate hand resting on Nicholas’s shoulder as she whispered something to him before standing and walking out of the dining room.

I tried to focus on Paolo’s animated story, on the ripple of laughter that followed his exaggerated hand gestures, but something about her caught my attention. After a minute or two, I excused myself from the table, muttering something about going to the bathroom. Really, I made my way over to the kitchen.

That’s when I saw her.

Valerie was standing by the counter, a crystal wine glass in hand. Her back was to me, but I could see the stiff line of her shoulders, the way her fingers trembled slightly as she raised the glass to her lips and took a long, deliberate sip.

I froze in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat. Drinking? Again?

The sound of the glass clinking against the counter jolted me back to reality. She set it down carefully, wiping her lips with a practiced swipe of her thumb before straightening her posture and turning toward the door.

I darted back into the hallway, pressing myself against the wall as she exited the kitchen and headed back to the dining room, her steps measured and composed as if nothing had happened.

My heart pounded as I replayed the scene over and over in my head. There was no mistaking what I’d just seen. She wasn’t pretending to take a sip for appearances. She was drinking — and she was doing it when she thought no one was watching.

When I finally returned to the dining room, the conversation had shifted to lighter topics. Guests were chatting over glasses of wine, their laughter filling the space with a warm hum. I slipped back into my seat beside Paolo, but my mind was racing.

As soon as the plates were cleared and the guests began drifting toward the lounge for coffee, I saw my chance to slip away, stealing a half-empty bottle of wine on the way out. My chest felt tight, my thoughts spiraling as I made my way outside, the cool night air biting against my skin.

I needed space. I needed to think.

The pool house loomed ahead, its dark silhouette offering a semblance of privacy. I ducked behind it, leaning against the rough stone wall as I pulled out the bottle I’d hidden under my jacket earlier.

The wine was lukewarm now, and the first sip burned, sharp and bitter against my tongue. I wasn’t a red wine type of person, and I didn’t really drink, but right now I didn’t care. I tipped the bottle back for another, the warmth spreading through my chest, numbing the edges of the storm swirling in my mind.

The memory of Valerie in the kitchen, the glass of wine in her hand — what the hell was she thinking? Pregnant and drinking. The audacity, the recklessness, the… everything. She was lying. But why?

I took a long sip, the burn spreading through my chest and grounding me, if only for a moment. I closed my eyes, letting the cool night air lick at my skin, trying to drown out the thousand questions buzzing in my head. But instead of clarity, a different memory crept in — one I hadn’t let myself think about in years.

“Come on, just one drink,” Nicholas had said, holding up the bottle like it was a prize he’d won. He had pulled it out from under his bed. He was embarrassed he still had to sneak alcohol into his room, even though he was just a few months shy of turning 21. “You’re in college now. It’s about time.”

“You sound like a bad after-school special,” I’d replied, sitting cross-legged on his bed, my arms folded stubbornly. 

He laughed, low and smooth, the sound curling in my stomach like smoke. “Relax, baby. It’s one drink. Not like I’m handing you a syringe.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m your favorite asshole,” he shot back, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on. Live a little.”

The bottle in his hand was cheap — barely legal for him to buy, no doubt — but his grin was intoxicating, and God, I was too weak when it came to him.

“Fine,” I relented, snatching the bottle from him. “But if I throw up, it’s your fault.”

He plopped down beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as he handed me a mismatched mug — clearly stolen from the kitchen downstairs. “Here, princess. First taste of freedom.”

I rolled my eyes again, but the nickname sent a jolt through me that I tried to ignore. I twisted open the bottle cap as I carefully poured a splash into the mug. “Is that enough?” I quietly asked, tipping the cup toward Nicholas so he could decide.

Nic squinted at the mug, a smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s adorable. You really think that little sip is going to do anything?” He leaned over, his bare shoulder from the sleeveless shirt he was wearing pressing into mine as he grabbed the bottle and poured a more generous amount. “There. Now it’s a real drink.”

I glared at him, the scent of the alcohol already making my stomach twist. “If this tastes like shit, I’m blaming you.”

“You can blame me all you want, baby,” he said with a grin, leaning back and raising his own glass. “Cheers.”

I hesitated, staring at the mug like it might explode in my hands. Nic nudged me gently, his warm breath brushing against my ear. “Come on. Don’t make me drink alone.”

Rolling my eyes, I lifted the mug and took a small sip. The taste hit me like a punch to the throat — bitter, sharp, and completely unpleasant. I coughed, my face scrunching up in disgust as Nic burst out laughing beside me.

“Oh, my God,” he said between chuckles, his hand slapping his thigh. “Your face! Priceless.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I muttered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “This is disgusting. How do you even drink this?”

“Practice,” he said with a shrug, tipping his own glass back and taking a long sip. He didn’t even flinch. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Not sure I want to,” I muttered, setting the mug down on the floor beside me. “Seriously, why do people drink this? It’s awful.”

Nic grinned, leaning back against the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked so relaxed, so effortlessly cool, and it pissed me off just a little. “Because,” he said, swirling the liquid in his glass like he was some kind of expert, “it’s not about the taste. It’s about what comes after.”

“And what’s that? Regret?”

He laughed again, the sound warm and familiar, making my stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “No, baby. It’s about the buzz. The way everything feels lighter, easier. Like nothing can touch you.”

I eyed him skeptically but couldn’t ignore the way his words tugged at something deep inside me. “Sounds like an excuse to make bad decisions.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his gaze sliding to mine, dark and playful. “But bad decisions can be fun, you know.”

With a sigh, I picked up the mug and took another sip, bracing myself for the burn. This time, it wasn’t as bad. Still awful, but not the immediate assault on my taste buds I’d been expecting. I set the mug down again, shaking my head. Nic smirked, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made my cheeks warm.

The night blurred after that. One sip turned into another, then another, until the bottle was half-empty and I was leaning against Nic’s shoulder, giggling at something that wasn’t even funny. Everything felt fuzzy, warm, like the edges of the world had softened.

“You’re so bad at this,” Nic said, his arm draped casually around my shoulders. His voice was low and teasing, but there was something else there, something softer. “Lightweight.”

“Shut up,” I mumbled, poking his side. “I’m not bad. You’re just… good at being an alcoholic.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating through me as he pulled me closer. “I’m not an alcoholic. I’m an enthusiast.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, but I couldn’t stop smiling. My head was spinning, and my cheeks hurt from laughing so much, but I didn’t care. This was fun. Being with him like this, it was always fun.

Nic shifted beside me, his fingers brushing against my shoulder as he turned to look at me. His expression had changed, his usual smirk replaced by something more serious. “You’re really fucking cute when you’re drunk, you know that?”

I stared at him, my pulse quickening as his words sank in. The room was warm, and the alcohol had done its job, leaving me feeling weightless and a little reckless. “Stop,” I muttered, though my voice lacked any real conviction.

“I’m not kidding,” Nic said, his hand moving to my knee, his fingers brushing against my bare skin. His touch sent a jolt through me, and I hated how much I wanted him to keep going. “You’re always cute, but like this? Goddamn.”

“Nic,” I started, but he was already leaning in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was hungry. My heart raced as I kissed him back, the taste of whiskey still lingering on both our lips.

The kiss deepened, turning messy and heated as his hand slid up my thigh, pulling me closer. I let out a quiet moan, my fingers threading through his stringy hair as I shifted, straddling his lap. The feel of him beneath me, hard and wanting, sent a rush of heat through my body.

“You’re driving me crazy, baby,” he murmured against my lips, his hands gripping my hips. “I’ve been thinking about this all fucking week.”

“You’re drunk,” I teased, though my own words were slurred, my head spinning from the whiskey and the way he was looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

“Doesn’t mean I’m lying,” he shot back, his voice low and rough. His hands slid under my shirt, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my waist as he pushed the fabric higher. “Take this off.”

I obeyed without thinking, pulling the shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor. His eyes darkened as they roamed over me, his hands moving to cup my bare breasts. “Fuck,” he muttered, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, sending a shiver down my spine. 

“Nic,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as his mouth moved to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin before he kissed his way down to my chest.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking about?” he asked, his voice muffled against my skin. His hands moved to the waistband of my shorts, tugging them down along with my underwear in one swift motion. “This.” He shifted, laying back against the pillows and pulling me with him. “Come here,” he said, his hands guiding me until I was hovering over his face. My heart pounded, the mix of nerves and anticipation making my head spin.

“Nic, what are you—” I started, but his hands gripped my hips firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Let me have you like this.”

The way he looked at me, the hunger and heat in his gaze, made it impossible to argue. My breath caught as his hands guided me down, my thighs trembling as they settled on either side of his face.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulled me closer. And then his mouth was on me, hot and demanding, and the world tilted on its axis.

I gasped, my fingers curling into his hair for balance as his tongue moved against me with an intensity that made my head spin. The sensation was overwhelming, his stubble scratching against my thighs as he held me in place, his grip possessive and unrelenting.

“Nic,” I whimpered, my voice breaking as his tongue found a rhythm that had me arching against him, my body trembling under his touch. The alcohol in my system made everything feel heightened, every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue sending sparks of heat racing through me.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled but no less desperate. “You always do.”

His hands slid up to my waist, holding me steady as I began to rock against him, my movements uncoordinated and fueled by pure instinct. The feeling was almost too much, the pressure building low in my stomach with every stroke of his tongue. I leaned forward, bracing myself on the headboard as I chased the release that was just out of reach.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice low and thick. “Use me. Take what you need.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, the heat pooling between my legs growing unbearable. I moved faster, my breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as the pleasure built to a fever pitch.

“Nic, I—” My voice broke, my body trembling as the tension snapped, a wave of pleasure crashing over me so intensely it left me shaking. He didn’t stop, his mouth and hands guiding me through every aftershock until I was too sensitive to move.

When I finally sat limp over him, he guided me down, his lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against my thighs as I tried to catch my breath. “You’re fucking amazing,” he muttered, his voice low and raspy as he pulled me closer, his hands sliding up my back.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, my face buried in his chest as the aftershocks rippled through me. My heart was racing, my skin flushed and damp, but he just chuckled, his hands tracing lazy circles along my spine.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tender. He tilted my chin up, his dark eyes meeting mine. “You’re perfect.”

I fell beside him, my body still trembling, he looked at me with a smug grin, his mouth and nose glistening. “That good enough for you?” he teased, his voice rough, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Shut up,” I muttered, my cheeks burning, but I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

Nic chuckled, leaning over to kiss me, his mouth hot and insistent, and I could taste myself on his lips. His hands roamed my body, reigniting the fire that had barely subsided as he pressed me back against the pillows.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

I shivered, my pulse quickening as I looked up at him, his hair messy, his chest heaving, and his dark eyes fixed on me like I was the only thing that mattered. The tension crackled between us, the air heavy with the smell of sweat and alcohol and the undeniable pull of desire.

“Then show me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but he heard me.

And he did.

Nic didn’t hesitate, his lips crashing into mine as he hovered over me, his body pressing me into the mattress. His hands roamed my skin, rough and desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of me. He bit my lower lip gently before kissing down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. My heart pounded in my chest, the mixture of lust and whiskey making everything more intense, more raw.

“You drive me fucking insane, you know that?” he muttered, his voice muffled against my skin. His teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I gasped, arching into him.

“Nic—” His name slipped out in a breathless moan, my fingers digging into his shoulders as his hand slid between us, teasing, testing. I was already slick and ready for him, and the groan that rumbled from his chest made my stomach clench.

“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and need.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t form a coherent response as he pushed his fingers inside me, his movements slow and deliberate. My hips bucked against his hand, desperate for more, and he obliged, curling his fingers just right. I gasped, my back arching as he leaned down to capture my lips in a messy, heated kiss.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and commanding. His dark eyes bored into mine, filled with lust and something deeper that I couldn’t name.

“You,” I said, my voice trembling but certain.

His smirk was equal parts cocky and devastatingly sexy. “Then take me,” he said, pulling back just enough to shed the last of his clothes. His body was all sharp lines and hard muscle, and the way he looked at me — like I was the only thing he needed — made my breath hitch.

He settled back against the pillows, his hands on my thighs as he pulled me on top of him. “Ride me, baby,” he said, his voice rough and full of heat. “I wanna watch you.” Before I could respond, he kissed me, slow and deep, his hands sliding down to cup my ass as he pulled me against him. I could feel him, hard and ready beneath me.

My cheeks burned, but the alcohol buzzing through my veins gave me the confidence to do as he said. I sank down onto him slowly, both of us moaning as he filled me completely. The stretch was perfect, the burn grounding me as I adjusted to the feeling of him inside me.

“Goddamn, (Y/N),” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips tightly. “You feel so fucking good, baby. Every time. You feel like heaven.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. My hands braced against his chest as I moved, slow at first, then faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through me with every roll of my hips. His hands roamed my body, his fingers digging into my skin as he guided my movements, his eyes never leaving mine.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending on fire as I rolled my hips, drawing moans from both of us. Nic’s head fell back against the pillows, his eyes dark and hooded as he watched me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his hands sliding up my sides to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. “I could watch you like this all night.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I leaned forward, my hands braced on his chest as I quickened my pace. The angle made him hit deeper, and I cried out, my nails digging into his skin.

“God, Nic—” I couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t do anything but lose myself in him, in the way he felt, the way he looked at me like I was his entire world.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice tight as his hands gripped my hips, meeting my movements with his own. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The tension coiled tighter and tighter, and I knew I was close. “I—Nic, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice firm but full of heat. “Come on, baby. Let go.”

His words pushed me over the edge, my body tensing as pleasure crashed over me in waves. I cried out his name, my nails raking down his chest as I came undone. He followed moments later, his grip on me tightening as he thrust up into me one last time, his groan low and guttural.

For a moment, neither of us moved, our bodies tangled and slick with sweat, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. Then Nic pulled me down to lie against his chest, his arms wrapping around me as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“Bad decision, huh?” He asked with a lazy grin.

I let out a breathless laugh, my cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “The worst.”

“Good,” Nic tilted my chin up with his fingers, his dark eyes locking onto mine, still soft with lingering warmth and satiation, “I like being your worst decision.”

The sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel snapped me out of my thoughts. My heart leapt into my throat, and I pressed myself closer to the wall, willing whoever it was to pass by without noticing me. But then I heard his voice.

“(Y/N)?”

I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Of course, it was him.

The footsteps grew louder until Nicholas appeared around the corner, his tall frame backlit by the faint glow of the pool lights. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice low but not unkind.

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the neck of the wine bottle I still held. “Just thinking,” I said quietly, my voice steadier than I expected. “What are you doing out here?”

Nic stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the bottle in my hand before meeting my eyes again. “Looking for you,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “You left dinner pretty fast.”

“Not much of a coffee person,” I said, forcing a wry smile. My heart was racing, and I hated how easily he could unsettle me just by standing there.

He took another step closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I replied, my defenses snapping into place. I turned away from him, leaning against the wall and taking another sip from the bottle. The wine was still terrible, but it gave me something to focus on that wasn’t him.

Nic took a step closer, closing the distance between us until he was standing right in front of me. “Something happened at dinner. Talk to me,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch was light, tentative, but it sent a shiver through me all the same.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his touch lingered like a brand on my skin. “Nothing happened,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. I turned my face away, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Bullshit,” Nic said, his voice dropping lower, rougher. He stepped closer, his body just inches from mine. “I know you, baby. You don’t just disappear like that for no reason.”

The nickname cut through me like a knife, and I hated how it made my heart clench despite everything. “I told you not to call me that,” I muttered, my voice trembling slightly as I pushed away from the wall. I couldn’t stay still, couldn’t let him corner me like this.

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he exhaled sharply. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I just—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair as he looked away, his frustration evident.

“You just what?” I asked, my voice rising slightly. The wine was making me bold, and I hated how much I wanted an answer. “Why did you come out here, Nic? Why do you keep cornering me? What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know!” he snapped, his voice rough with emotion. He took a step back, his hands raking through his hair again as he paced. “Fuck, (Y/N), I don’t know. I just… I saw you leave, and I couldn’t stay in there knowing you were out here alone.”

I stared at him, his words settling heavily between us. He stopped pacing, turning to face me again, his dark eyes filled with something I couldn’t name.

“I miss you,” he said finally, his voice soft but filled with a raw honesty that made my chest ache. “I know I shouldn’t say it, but I do. And seeing you again, seeing you like this… it’s fucking killing me.”

My breath caught, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. The weight of his words, the way he was looking at me — it was too much, and not enough all at once. He was jeopardizing his life over something he didn’t know… that’s killing me.

I gripped the bottle tighter, using it to anchor myself as his words settled like a storm in my chest. My pulse raced, my thoughts a chaotic tangle of anger, longing, and the memories I’d been trying so hard to suppress.

“You’re fucking killing me, too,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, and I hated the way my voice cracked. “Do you think this is easy for me? Seeing you, hearing you say things like that, when you—” My voice broke, and I shook my head, swallowing hard. “You don’t get to miss me, Nic. You don’t get to do this.”

His expression shifted, the vulnerability giving way to something darker, sharper. “Why not?” he asked, stepping closer, his voice low and intense. “Why the fuck not? You think I wanted this? To be here with all this shit between us?”

“You chose this!” I snapped, my voice rising. “You chose this, Nic. You chose her, you chose your life, your future, and now you want to act like you didn’t? Like it wasn’t a choice?”

He flinched like I’d slapped him, but he didn’t back down. “I didn’t choose her,” he said, shaking his head. “I—“ his voice cracked. “I wanted to break up with her; I didn’t like being with her. Next thing I know, she’s pregnant, and I didn’t want to be someone who ran away like a coward, so…” he trailed off.

“…so you stayed,” I finished for him, my voice trembling with anger and something deeper, something raw and aching. “You stayed because it was the right thing to do. And that’s great, Nic. That’s really noble of you. But don’t come here, looking at me like this, saying things like that, and act like I’m the one who doesn’t get it.”

He stared at me, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know how fucked up this is?” he said, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t hate myself for this? For hurting you? For—”

“Stop,” I interrupted, my voice sharp. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

His mouth snapped shut, his chest heaving as he stared at me. The silence between us was thick and suffocating, filled with all the things we weren’t saying.

I turned away, pacing a few steps to put some distance between us. The cool night air bit at my skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat coursing through me, the anger and the longing and the sheer exhaustion of feeling everything all at once.

“You don’t get to come back into my life and act like you still have a place here,” I said, my back to him. “You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to look at me like you—”

“Like I what?” he cut in, his voice rising as he stepped closer. “Like I still love you?”

I froze, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. My breath caught, my pulse pounding in my ears as I turned to face him. “You don’t mean that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t mean that.”

His dark eyes burned into mine, raw and unguarded in a way I hadn’t seen in years. “I mean every fucking word,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’ve tried to stop. God, (Y/N), I’ve tried. But I can’t. I love you, and it’s fucking killing me because I know I don’t deserve you. I know I  fucked everything up back then. But I can’t—” His voice broke, and he looked away, his hands raking through his hair. “I can’t stop.”

The air between us felt heavy, charged with the weight of everything he’d just said. I wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to tell him how unfair it was for him to say these things when I’d spent years trying to move on, trying to forget the way he made me feel.

But more than that, I wanted to kiss him. To pull him close and let myself drown in the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel like the center of his universe even when I knew I shouldn’t be.

“You’re such an asshole,” I said finally, my voice shaking.

He let out a breathless laugh, his gaze snapping back to mine. “Yeah,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, humorless smile. “I am. But I’m your asshole.”

I hated him for that. For the way he could still make me want him, even now, even when everything was so fucked up.

“You don’t get to say that,” I said, my voice trembling as I took a step closer, my chest heaving with the weight of everything I was feeling. “You don’t get to—”

But before I could finish, he closed the distance between us, his hands cupping my face as his lips crashed into mine.

It was messy and desperate and everything I’d been trying to resist since the moment I saw him again. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as my own hands fisted in his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me grounded.

“You’re killing me,” I whispered against his lips, my voice breaking as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

“I know,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. “But I can’t stop. I can’t stay away from you.”

I didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his hands were on my waist, lifting me onto the edge of the low stone wall behind us. My legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, pulling him closer as his mouth trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Nic,” I gasped, my fingers threading through his hair as he pressed kisses along my collarbone, his hands gripping my thighs tightly.

“I need you,” he said, his voice low and raw as he looked up at me, his dark eyes filled with a desperation that mirrored my own. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

“I—” The words caught in my throat, my breath shallow and ragged as I stared down at him. His face was inches from mine, his lips parted, his dark eyes filled with raw vulnerability that cut through every ounce of resistance I’d tried to muster. “I want you,” I whispered, the confession tumbling out before I could stop it.

The second the words left my mouth, his lips were on mine, hot and demanding, like he was trying to claim every unspoken feeling we’d ever shared. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I gasped, my fingers fisting in his hair as his mouth moved to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his breath hot against my collarbone as his hands slid under my shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of my waist. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but let myself get lost in him. My head tilted back, giving him access to my neck as his lips trailed down.

“This is so fucked up,” I breathed, my voice trembling as his mouth found the curve of my shoulder.

My hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel him, to erase the space between us. He shrugged it off, and my breath hitched at the sight of him, all sharp lines and smooth skin, his muscles flexing as he reached for me.

I hadn’t seen him like this since he was 20. His body was leaner back then, but now he was all hard lines and tension, every golden muscle defined with bulging veins. My hands moved instinctively, tracing the contours of his chest, the smooth expanse of his skin sending a rush of heat through me. He was huge, in every sense of the word. The sight of him now, so much older, broader, and undeniably magnetic, made my head spin. 25 looked amazing on him.

His hands were on my hips again, pulling me toward him as he kissed me with a raw, desperate hunger that made my knees weak. Every touch, every sound, every breath between us felt charged, like the culmination of years of tension finally snapping.

“I can’t believe I ever let you go,” Nicholas muttered against my lips, his voice low and rough.

He stilled for a moment, his eyes darting between both of mine as if he was convincing himself that this was really happening. He then crouched down to collect his shirt from the floor and wrapped his hands around my thighs, lifting me effortlessly and making his way to the door of the pool house.

The cool night air rushed over me as Nicholas carried me, his grip firm but careful, his shirt draped haphazardly over one of my legs. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, my heart pounding so hard I could barely hear anything else. The faint sound of crickets in the distance mingled with the muffled hum of the estate behind us, but all I could focus on was him — the heat of his skin, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers pressed into my thighs.

When he reached the door of the pool house, he nudged it open with his shoulder, stepping inside and kicking it shut behind him. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the space. The scent of chlorine lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the heady musk of sweat and desire.

Nicholas set me down on the edge of the couch, his hands lingering on my hips as he knelt between my legs, his dark eyes meeting mine with a heat that sent a shiver down my spine.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he said, his voice low and rough, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my thighs. “How many times I’ve wished I could take it all back. Every mistake. Every second I wasted away from you.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. “Nic,” I started, but he cut me off with a kiss, his lips crashing into mine with a desperation that left me breathless.

“Don’t,” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding up to cup my face. “Don’t say anything. Just let me—let me have this.”

I couldn’t argue, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but let him consume me. His hands roamed my body, rough and urgent, as though he was trying to memorize every inch of me. My own hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips moved to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin and sending a jolt of electricity straight through me.

His hands slipped under my shirt, tugging it upward until I lifted my arms, letting him pull it over my head and toss it to the floor. His gaze raked over me, his breath hitching as his hands moved to the clasp of my bra. “God, you’re so perfect,” he said, his fingers trembling slightly as he unhooked it and slid the straps down my arms.

I gasped as the cool air hit my skin, followed by the heat of his mouth as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the curve of my breast. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as he kissed his way down, his tongue flicking over my nipple and drawing a quiet moan from my lips.

“Nic,” I whimpered, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked his way lower, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Nicholas’s hands gripped my hips firmly as his mouth continued its path downward, his lips and tongue leaving no inch of skin untouched. The heat between us was unbearable, a storm we could no longer hold back, and the weight of every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment of longing, exploded in this moment.

His fingers worked at the waistband of my shorts, his eyes locking onto mine as he tugged them down, taking my underwear with them. His eyes widened, almost as if he couldn’t believe the way I looked now. He hadn’t seen me like this since I was 18; I was 23 now. The years that had passed between us felt both like a lifetime and an instant as Nicholas’s gaze lingered on me.

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, his hands trembling slightly as they slid up my thighs. “You’re even more beautiful now, baby.”

I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling as his words washed over me. The way he looked at me — like he couldn’t believe I was real, like he couldn’t believe I was here — sent a rush of heat through me that had nothing to do with the alcohol still buzzing in my veins.

“You keep saying that,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“And I’ll say it again,” he murmured, leaning in to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to my inner thigh. “Every chance I get.”

His hands slid higher, gripping my hips as his lips moved closer, the heat of his breath sending shivers up my spine. I reached down, tangling my fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. His dark eyes met mine, the raw hunger there making my stomach clench, his lips quirking into a smirk that was both cocky and devastatingly sexy.

And then his mouth was on me.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through me so intense it made my toes curl. My head fell back against the cushions, a gasp escaping my lips as he worked me with a precision that left me breathless. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as his tongue teased and tasted, his stubble scratching against my skin in a way that only added to the fire coursing through me.

“Fuck, Nic,” I whimpered, my hands fisting in his hair as my hips bucked against his mouth.

His grip on my thighs tightened, pinning me firmly against the couch as he buried his face between my legs, his tongue moving with an urgency that made my entire body tremble. “Stay still,” he growled, his voice muffled but commanding. “Let me take care of you.”

The sound of his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I tried to obey, though every nerve in my body screamed for more. His tongue flicked over me in deliberate, agonizing strokes, his lips closing around the most sensitive part of me and sucking just hard enough to make my hips jerk.

“God, Nic, please,” I gasped, my voice high and breathless. I shook my head, curling my fingers around his short hair, “No. I need you inside me, Nic.”

Nicholas stilled for a moment, his dark eyes lifting to meet mine as his lips curled into a smirk, his chin and mouth glistening from his work. My chest was heaving, my body trembling under the weight of his gaze and the fire he’d already ignited within me.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through me as he pressed one last kiss to my thigh before sitting back on his heels. “Anything for you, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with heat.

Nicholas stood, his body towering over me as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it free in one swift motion. The clink of the metal and the soft rustle of fabric as he shucked off his slacks and boxers sent another rush of heat through me. My breath caught at the sight of him, every inch of him perfect, from the hard lines of his abs to the thighs the size of tree trunks to the sheer size of him, thick and ready.

“Goddamn, Nic,” I murmured, unable to tear my eyes away. He was beautiful, all sharp angles and raw power, and the way he looked at me, like he was about to devour me, made my pulse race.

“Eyes up here, baby,” he said, his tone laced with amusement as he stepped closer, gripping my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the couch.

My cheeks burned, but I met his gaze, the intensity in his dark eyes making it impossible to look away. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss as he positioned himself at my entrance. The heat of him against me sent a shiver down my spine, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. My hands cupped his face as I pulled him in for another kiss.

With one smooth thrust, he pushed inside me, filling me completely. I cried out, my head falling back as he stilled, giving me a moment to adjust. The stretch was perfect, just as it was all those years ago.

“Fuck, you’re better than heaven, baby,” he groaned, his forehead resting against mine as his hands gripped my hips. “Even better than I remember.”

I whimpered, my nails digging into his shoulders as I tried to catch my breath. “Fuck me,” I demanded, my voice shaky but firm. “Please, Nic. I need you to fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hips pulled back before thrusting forward again, setting a rhythm that was slow and deliberate at first, every movement calculated to drive me insane. But as the tension between us built, his pace quickened, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, until the sound of our bodies colliding echoed through the room.

“(Y/N),” he growled, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I was sure there would be bruises. “I was made for you, baby. Nobody else. Just you.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine, the raw intensity in his voice carving through every thought, every inhibition I had left. “Just me,” I whispered, my nails raking down his back as I clung to him, my body arching to meet each of his thrusts. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back as I let myself drown in him — the way he filled me, the way he consumed me, the way he owned me.

“Say it,” Nicholas demanded, his lips brushing against my ear as he buried himself inside me again, deeper this time, the stretch and fullness stealing the air from my lungs. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, the confession tumbling from my lips before I could stop it. The truth of it, the undeniable gravity of what he meant to me, hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me raw and exposed. “Always yours.”

“Shit,” he growled, his movements growing erratic as he pulled me impossibly closer, his hands gripping my thighs like he was afraid I’d disappear. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby. You’re in my fucking blood.”

I gasped, my voice trembling as he shifted, lifting one of my legs over his shoulder to hit even deeper. The angle made me cry out, my nails raking down his back as he pounded into me with a desperation that matched my own. “Oh, my God, right there—fuck, don’t stop!”

“Not a chance, baby,” he growled, his voice rough and full of promise. His dark eyes locked onto mine, his gaze so intense it made my head spin. “You’re mine, (Y/N). Always have been. Always fucking will be.”

My head fell back, a moan ripping from my throat as he hit a spot inside me that sent stars exploding behind my eyes. The tension in my stomach coiled tighter, every nerve ending on fire as he drove me closer and closer to the edge. 

“I’m so close,” I whimpered, my voice breaking as I clawed at his shoulders, desperate for release. “Nic, I—”

“Let go,” he urged, his voice low and commanding, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Come for me, baby. I wanna feel you.”

The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered, sent me spiraling. The tension snapped, pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but scream his name. My body trembled, every muscle tightening as the orgasm ripped through me, leaving me raw and undone.

“Jesus Christ,” Nicholas groaned, his grip on me tightening as my walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper. He thrust into me once, twice more, before his own release hit, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside me, filling me completely until it dripped and pooled around us.

The room fell silent except for the sound of our ragged breathing and the hum of the pool filter just outside, the heat of our bodies mingling as we clung to each other in the aftermath. Nicholas didn’t move, his arms wrapped tightly around me as though letting go wasn’t an option. My heart was pounding, each beat echoing in my ears as the weight of what just happened started to settle over me.

He pressed his forehead against mine, his breath still uneven as he whispered, “Fuck, (Y/N)… You wreck me.”

I let out a shaky laugh, my fingers tracing the muscles in his back, slick with sweat. “I think we just wrecked each other.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, vibrating through his chest. “I missed this,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “I missed you.”

My chest tightened at the raw honesty in his words, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. The truth was, I’d missed him too — every part of him, every look, every touch. But I wasn’t sure how to say that without unraveling completely.

Instead, I let my fingers trail up to his face, cupping his jaw as I tilted his head so I could meet his gaze. His dark brown eyes searched mine, the intensity there enough to make my pulse quicken all over again. “This can’t happen again,” I whispered, though even as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t true.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. But then he leaned down, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss so tender it made my heart ache. “We both know that’s a lie,” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding up my sides to cradle me against him. “Because the second I get another chance, I’m taking it.”

“Nic—” I started, but he silenced me with another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier, reigniting the fire between us.

“Let me stay here with you,” he murmured, his lips moving against mine as his hands explored my body again. “Just for tonight. No bullshit. No reality. Just us.”

His sincerity made my heart clench, but that obviously couldn’t happen. I cupped my hand in his face and kissed the apple of his cheek, “As much as I want to, you know I can’t. My mom is back in there drinking coffee with your mom and your fiancée. They’ll all know something’s going on.”

Nicholas let out a frustrated sigh, his forehead falling to rest against mine. His breath was warm, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my back as though he was trying to memorize me in the short time we had left.

“I know,” he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. “I hate that I can’t just keep you here. That I can’t—” He broke off, his hands tightening on my waist.

I smiled weakly, brushing my thumb across his cheek. “I don’t like it either.”

He leaned into my touch for a fleeting moment before stepping back, his hands trailing down my sides as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. The loss of his warmth made my chest ache, but I forced myself to focus on the bigger picture. On the consequences.

Nicholas raked a hand through his messy hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. “This isn’t over,” he said finally, his voice firm despite the heaviness in the room. “You and me, baby. We’re not over.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I nodded. “I know.”

His lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile, and for a moment, we just stood there, the air between us charged with everything we couldn’t say. Finally, Nicholas reached for his discarded shirt, pulling it on with a kind of resignation that made my chest tighten all over again.

“I’ll go out first,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “You wait a few minutes, then head back.”

I nodded, watching as he buttoned his shirt and slipped into his briefs and slacks with steady hands, though his dark eyes kept flicking back to me like he couldn’t quite look away. When he was finished, he paused, his fingers lingering on the zipper as he took a deep breath.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

I looked up at him, my heart pounding as his gaze locked onto mine.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer and cupping my face in his hands. “This isn’t the end. I don’t care how fucked up everything is right now — I’ll figure it out. I’ll fix it. Just… don’t give up on me. On us.”

I blinked, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest. “Nic…”

“Promise me,” he urged, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “Promise me you won’t give up.”

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding, my voice barely a whisper. “I promise.”

The relief that washed over his face was almost enough to break me, but before I could dwell on it, he leaned down, pressing one last kiss to my lips. It was slow and lingering, filled with a desperation that made my heart ache.

When he pulled away, his dark eyes lingered on mine for a beat longer before he turned and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, glancing back at me one last time.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, his voice low and full of promise.

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him and leaving me alone with the echoes of his words and the weight of what we’d just done.

The silence of the pool house pressed down on me like a heavy blanket, the faint hum of the pool filter outside the only sound breaking through the quiet. My legs felt weak, my body trembling as I stood there, staring at the door he’d just walked through.

The faint scent of him lingered in the room — woodsy cologne mixed with sweat and desire — and it wrapped around me, pulling me back into the moment we’d just shared. I shook my head, trying to clear it, to push the memory to the back of my mind.

I pulled on my discarded clothes with shaking hands, the fabric sticking to my damp skin. Each movement felt heavier, slower, like my body was resisting the return to reality. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my uniform, and I let out a frustrated sigh, finally managing to pull it up.

I closed my eyes, my head falling into my hands as a wave of guilt and longing washed over me. I shouldn’t have promised him anything. I shouldn’t have let him kiss me, touch me, pull me back into his orbit. But God help me, I didn’t know how to resist him. I never had.

The sound of laughter drifted in from the main house, sharp and distant, a reminder of the world waiting for me beyond the walls of the pool house. I needed to pull myself together, to put on a brave face and pretend like nothing had happened.

Rising to my feet, I adjusted my clothes, smoothing down my dress and running my fingers through my hair in a half-hearted attempt to fix the damage. My reflection in the glass of the pool house door caught my eye, and I froze, staring at the woman looking back at me.

She looked like a stranger — her cheeks flushed, her eyes too bright, her lips swollen from kisses that shouldn’t have happened. A part of me hated her for being so weak, so reckless. But another part, a quieter, more dangerous part, understood her too well. She was me. And no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I wasn’t done with Nicholas Chavez. Not yet.

I sighed, forcing my gaze away from the reflection and toward the glowing lights of the main house in the distance. Each step back felt heavier than the last, the weight of my choices pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

When I reached the patio, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses grew louder, the warm glow of the house spilling out into the cool night. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the handle of the French door, my heart pounding in my chest. I can do this.

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself before pushing the door open. The hum of conversation greeted me, a stark contrast to the silence of the pool house. I slipped inside, my head down, hoping to blend into the crowd unnoticed.

“(Y/N)!” My mother’s voice rang out, bright and cheery. “There you are, sweetie. We were just about to send Paolo to look for you.”

I plastered on a smile, forcing my voice to sound steady as I replied, “Just needed some air. Ready to go home?”

My mom tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she scanned my face. “You’ve been outside all this time? You’re flushed, honey.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, brushing a stray hair out of my face. “It’s just the wine. And maybe the fireplace — it’s blazing in here.”

She didn’t look convinced, but before she could press the issue, Paolo chimed in. “We’re all ready when you are, cara mia.” His warm smile felt like a lifeline, grounding me in the present. “Maria’s already gathering her things.”

“Perfect,” I said, returning his smile, though it felt thin, strained. I turned toward the lounge, catching sight of Maria chatting animatedly with one of the other guests. She glanced up as I approached, her eyes brightening.

“Are we leaving?” Maria asked, her expression shifting into a polite but eager readiness. “I think I’ve charmed enough people for one evening.”

I laughed lightly, nodding. “Let’s head out before they ask for your secrets.”

As we moved toward the door, I felt Nicholas’s gaze on me before I saw him. He was standing near his fiancée as she spoke to another guest, his arms carefully clasped behind him as if he didn’t want to touch her, as if I spoiled him from ever wanting to touch her again, even to keep up appearances.

His dark eyes tracked my every movement, a storm brewing beneath the surface that only I could see. My chest tightened, and I forced myself to look away, focusing on the cool night air beckoning just beyond the door.

“Let me get the car,” Paolo said, his hand brushing lightly against my arm. His tone was warm and reassuring, grounding me in a way I desperately needed.

Maria and my mom moved ahead, chatting softly as they walked out onto the driveway. I lingered just inside the door, caught in the magnetic pull of Nicholas’s gaze.

I glanced back, my resolve weakening as our eyes locked again. He wasn’t trying to hide it anymore — the longing, the frustration, the unspoken words that hung heavy between us. It was written all over his face, plain as day. His fiancée turned slightly, her hand brushing his arm as she laughed at something the older man beside her said. Nicholas didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as glance at her.

All of him was focused on me.

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as I turned and followed my mom and Maria outside. The night air hit me like a slap, cool and sharp against my flushed skin. I could hear the low rumble of Paolo’s car engine as it pulled up to the curb.

“Come on, sweetheart,” my mom called, her voice cutting through the haze of emotions clouding my mind. 

I forced a smile, slipping into the backseat beside her. Maria climbed into the passenger seat, her laughter carrying over as Paolo started the car. I leaned my head back against the seat, staring out the window as the estate grew smaller and smaller behind us.

But no matter how far we drove, I couldn’t shake the weight of Nicholas’s gaze, the echo of his voice, or the promise lingering in the air between us.

[the-loosest-moose]

Writer Goal Ask List for a New Year 🎉

Okay, I'll bite (as productive-ish procrastination)!

💖 What is your primary writing goal for this year? Finish WIPs that I had to put on hold because of health issues.

🛳 Are there any new ships you want to write for? (Platonic, romantic, or anything in between.) Just started writing for a new ship - Wolf Pack (HarlanxCyrus)

🤔 Are there any new characters you want to write about? Just the ones I recently started (new ship).

🥸 Does anyone in IRL know you write fanfic or original fiction? If not, do you plan on telling anyone this year? I think three friends know at this point. I was anxious to tell them, because I was sure I'd be laughed at.

🥵 Any plans to write steamy or spicy content this year? Always.

👻 Is there a new genre you'd like to write? I'm just starting a mystery, which is new for me.

🦄 Is there a new POV you'd like to try writing? No.

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals? Consider writing with an outline.

🦖 Are there any fandoms you wrote for in the past that you'd like to return to? Long dead past for me - X-Men (Rogue/Gambit), and no, I am not sharing what I previously wrote. Painful.

🍄 Are there any fandoms you've never written for but want to try? Maybe Arcane (Jayvik, Caitvi).

🌈 What research do you plan on doing for your writing? I have to research what is involved in fighting fires and dealing with potential arson.

✨What's one area of your writing that you think needs the least amount of improvement? Dialogue.

🥕 What's one area of your writing that you think needs the most amount of improvement? Probably world building/describing characters' surroundings.

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year? The Hunt (a Wolf Pack - Cyrus/Harlan textfic). I think the characters could be fleshed out in really juicy ways (sexual and otherwise), and there's a lot of potential for hidden angst.

🥳 How are you going to celebrate when you achieve one of your writing goals? Ha, I love the idea that I will achieve a writing goal. I will experience surprise.

🎃 Do you plan on writing any seasonal fics? No.

🐾 Do you plan on writing for any fests or competitions? No. I struggle with writing when there is an external goal/deadline. NaNoWriMo was a nightmare for me.

✍️ Which stat matters most to you (if at all!): subscriptions, kudos/favorites, comments, bookmarks, word count, or hits? Probably kudos/favorites and comments. I don't want them to matter, but it is such a joy to hear that someone likes what I've done.

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break? Starting fics without finishing WIPs.

🤖 Are you looking to change your current writing setup? (Or establish one, if you don't have one?) I'd like to do more writing at the library or a coffee shop. Not for pretentious reasons, but because my dogs are very needy, and it's hard to focus at home sometimes. My setup at home would be great if my dogs were busy.

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it! "Dreading" is a strong word. I am anxious about the next chapter of my Kanthony fic (Keep Looking at Me) - I've had to take a long break, and I'm concerned about continuity/pacing.

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it! I'm actually really excited about the first prose chapter of my Wolf Pack fic - it references a lot of childhood angst and current-day burnout, which appears to be my comfort zone.

🍕Will you be making any changes to your posting schedule (if you have one)? (Or do you want to establish a posting schedule?) Posting schedule? Never met her.

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year? Maybe a bit of a spoiler. Mom angst/revenge (related to protecting her children).

🪩 Do you have any "good" writing habits you want to cultivate? Honestly, I don't know that this is a good writing habit. But I trust my instincts about whether something works, and I hope I can keep having the confidence to do that. I'm sure my writing could be better, particularly with a beta reader, but I think my writing turns out the way I want/need it to this way. No one else may agree, but I'm proud I've always had that confidence.

🎉 How are you going to be kind to yourself if you don't meet your goals? I'm learning to put self-care first. It's been like crawling through broken glass to get back here - psych hospitalization, learning to walk again, you name it. I'm using DBT skills, exercising, and preemptively taking care of myself. That will happen regardless of how writing goes.

💌 Are you willing to take requests or prompts for writing? Yes, BUT. I don't think anyone would benefit. I have a really hard time writing when I *have* to - maybe it is demand avoidance, but I've really struggled with this in the past. I'm willing, but I don't have a lot of confidence in my ability to do it well. The stories seem to want to write themselves in the order/way they want to be written, so it doesn't feel like I get to choose when/what happens. That makes prompts harder for me.

Writer Goal Ask List for a New Year 🎉

These writer asks are always so fun to both ask and answer. Fanfic or original fiction writers, reblog away! These are asks based in new goals for a new year.

💖 What is your primary writing goal for this year?

🛳 Are there any new ships you want to write for? (Platonic, romantic, or anything in between.)

🤔 Are there any new characters you want to write about?

🥸 Does anyone in IRL know you write fanfic or original fiction? If not, do you plan on telling anyone this year?

🥵 Any plans to write steamy or spicy content this year?

👻 Is there a new genre you'd like to write?

🦄 Is there a new POV you'd like to try writing?

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

🦖 Are there any fandoms you wrote for in the past that you'd like to return to?

🍄 Are there any fandoms you've never written for but want to try?

🌈 What research do you plan on doing for your writing?

✨What's one area of your writing that you think needs the least amount of improvement?

🥕 What's one area of your writing that you think needs the most amount of improvement?

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?

🥳 How are you going to celebrate when you achieve one of your writing goals?

🎃 Do you plan on writing any seasonal fics?

🐾 Do you plan on writing for any fests or competitions?

✍️ Which stat matters most to you (if at all!): subscriptions, kudos/favorites, comments, bookmarks, word count, or hits?

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

🤖 Are you looking to change your current writing setup? (Or establish one, if you don't have one?)

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

🍕Will you be making any changes to your posting schedule (if you have one)? (Or do you want to establish a posting schedule?)

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year?

🪩 Do you have any "good" writing habits you want to cultivate?

🎉 How are you going to be kind to yourself if you don't meet your goals?

💌 Are you willing to take requests or prompts for writing?

[letsbangts]

answer your phone || jjk

⤷ summary: when the consequences of his actions come calling

⟡ sequel to mutt ⟡

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 12.8k+ (I couldn’t stop 😳)

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends with benefits au

⟶ content: fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk, jk is on a downward spiral (it's what he deserves), oc is struggling as well, taehyung is the shoulder to lean on everyone deserves

⟶ warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, groping, protected sex, nipple play, oral (m. & f. receiving), markings (hickeys & other bruising), a bit of dirty talk & praising, fingering, teasing, multiple orgasms…I think that’s it?

↬ a/n: HERE IT IS MUTT PT 2! firstly I want to say thank you for all the love & support i received on pt 1 it truly meant so much to me ♡ OKAY so you all wanted #justiceforoc and to see jk grovel so the tables have definitely turned on him ;). angel xoxo

↬ a/n2: p.s the flashbacks are indicated by the arrows (《,》)

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ answer your phone leon thomas 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

masterlist

Answer your phone I've got to talk to you

Jungkook is sitting on his couch with a girl's lips all over his neck and her hands all over his body, but his eyes are fixed on his cell phone lying on the coffee table. Instead of focusing on how her tongue is licking at his throat or how her hands grope him through his pants, he can only focus on you.

He stares at the phone that won't ring, at least not with you on the other end. It has been over a month since you stormed out of his place. At first, he left you alone and didn't try to reach out because he thought you needed to cool off. Jungkook has dealt with this hot and cold shit with others before; he knows they’ll be back eventually, whether he makes any effort or not. And it’s so much easier not to. But he has been calling you for weeks now with no success.

This past month, Jungkook has been with a handful of women, hoping to feel something, but he hasn't. Not even with the aid of an empty bottle or a joint— and he's certainly had plenty of both— nothing makes him feel as good as you do. Whether it's getting his dick sucked by any of the random women he’s taken into the bathroom of a club or bending one over in the backseat of his car in the parking lot of the tattoo studio, getting on top of someone else to distract him from you hasn’t helped as he thought it would.

Even though the girl with him right now is attractive, with a nice body and a skilful set of hands, he is trapped in his thoughts. He’s annoyed that her lips don't send tingles down his body like yours do, that her hands aren't as soft as your own and that she doesn't have her fingers running through his hair the way you do.

He misses you.

He pries the girl's hands off him and pushes her back as he lets out a deep sigh. She looks at him with a confused expression.

Jungkook licks his lips and, without looking at her, says, "I think we better stop; you should go."

The girl attempts a seductive smile as she moves to unbuckle his belt.

"Stop? We haven't even started anything. Come on, I'll make you feel good, big boy."

Jungkook rips her hands off of his belt, he rubs his hands over his face in frustration.

"Look, I'm just not feeling this, okay?" he says exasperated.

The girl's face drops and her whole demeanour changes.

"Are you fucking serious, Jungkook? Not feeling this? Can you not get it up or something? Is your dick really that pathetic?" she snarks, her eyes scanning him up and down.

He gives her a pointed look with his pierced eyebrow raised as he rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek and chuckles bitterly. He shakes his head, sniffs, and sits up straighter.

"Okay, listen here, Emilia—"

"It's Emily!"

"Whatever the fuck your name is, I don't care. I tried to be nice about this, but if you want to provoke me, that's fine. You're right; I can't get it up because I can't even pretend for a goddamn moment that you turn me on, not even in the slightest, so get your ass out of my fucking house," he sneers through clenched teeth.

Right after Jungkook finished speaking, he felt a sting on his cheek. The response to his words was a sharp slap to his face and, once again, another upset girl storming out of his place, slamming the door behind her.

Jungkook shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. A metallic taste begins to form in his mouth; he must have bitten the inside of his cheek on impact. He rises to his feet and walks to the bathroom. He leans over the sink, gripping the porcelain edge as he spits out blood. Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror and runs a hand over his reddened cheek, marked with a fresh cut from the girl's ring-clad hand.

He isn't bothered that the girl is upset because he doesn't care about her. Jungkook couldn't care less about whether he was an asshole to Emma; all he cares about is you and how he needs to talk to you.

Answer your phone Give me a minute, please Has your heart turned to stone? Have you no sympathy?

He has texted and called you an embarrassing number of times, waiting with every ring to see if you'd pick up so that he could hear your sweet voice. And he does, but only when he's met with your voicemail — "Hey, this is Y/N. Sorry, I missed your call. Please leave me a message, and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!"— which is a lie because you never do. Still, he leaves voice messages, hoping you will listen to them and call him back. He hopes that with every call, his persistence will make you curious enough to answer and talk to him—even if only for a minute.

Jungkook turns on the tap and washes his face; the cool water momentarily clears his head. However, once he raises his head and looks at his reflection again, his fringe drips with water, droplets falling onto his shirt. He is overwhelmed by the thought of you all over again.

He knows you can't be too mad at him because you haven't blocked him—not his number or on social media. This is how he knows you're not that hung up on what happened since he sees you posting, whether casually going out for coffee or all dressed up to go party with your friends; regardless, in all of them, you look stunningly beautiful.

This makes him miss you even more and makes him unsure if blocking him might have been better since Jungkook has seen some guys in your posts and noticed how they sometimes have an arm around you or how you lean in a little bit too close to them for his liking. He wonders if they are just friends; even if they are, he's sure they want to be more. Have they tried anything with you? Are you dressing up like that for one of those guys? Are you trying to move on with one of them? Is that the reason you're ignoring him?

The thought alone of you with someone else drives him crazy, but having to see you with some guy who probably doesn't even know you that well makes him furious. Jungkook knows you better than any one of those chumps could, yet they get to be around you while he is stuck looking at your angelic face beside some happy idiot through a screen like a loser.

Jungkook bets none of those guys know that you hum while getting ready, don't know that when you're in the car while it's raining you turn off the radio to listen to it fall, don't know that you can't sleep wearing pants or socks, don't know that you hate drinking room temperature water, don't know that you do this adorable little happy dance when you really like the food you're eating, and bets they don't know that the guy who put that tattoo on your hip has fucked you every way under the sun.

Shit. He misses you.

Misses how you would thread your fingers through his hair, scratching softly at his scalp while he had his head in your lap as you both watched TV, misses how you would listen to him complain about a client while you fiddled with his earring but with such attentive eyes that showed you were paying attention, misses how you would scrunch your nose and blush when he made a flirty comment, misses how you would somehow take the pressure of the day off him simply by hugging him.

Why won't you answer? Why won't you give him a proper chance to explain himself and apologize? Did all your feelings for him vanish; has your heart just turned to stone? Don't you see how hard he's trying? Don't you have any sympathy for him?

Upon realizing that his teeth are grinding together and his fists are clenched so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, he pulls himself together, relaxing all his muscles, and heads back to the living room with determination.

Jungkook grabs his phone off the coffee table before sitting on his couch. With his elbows resting on his knees, he goes to his call log filled with your name and presses it, lifting the phone to his ear as he listens to the ringing for the umpteenth time.

I know I fucked this up I know I let you down But I've suffered long enough And you're still not around

He bites his nails while tapping his foot anxiously; he concentrates on what seems like endless ringing. His eyes glance at the clock. You should be home from work by this time, he thinks. When your voice finally comes through—voicemail, of course. Jungkook didn't honestly expect anything else.  

He leans back, tips his head back against the backrest, and shuts his eyes for a second, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of his thoughts, and when he hears the beep of the answering machine, all those thoughts spill out of his mouth.

I know I don't deserve it But please have some mercy 'Cause I just might die if you don't

Y/N POV

You hold your buzzing phone in your hand and watch as the screen dims once it's finished, only to light up a few seconds later with a notification about a voicemail.

You hit on the notification and bring your phone to your ear, you bite your lip when you hear the deep voice of the man you've been keeping at bay.

"Hey Y/N, I don't know if you even listen to my messages anymore or if you ever did, but I'm not going to give up. I'm sorry, I know I fucked up and I know I let you down, but—fuck, Y/N, I miss you so goddamn much. It feels like I've been suffering for so long like there is this knife that's buried in my chest and keeps twisting the more time you're not around. I know I don't deserve it, but please have some mercy and answer me. Fucking shout at me and curse me out. Answer me and don't say anything— stay silent if you want, but just answer me, please. I need to hear your voice, or see you, something—anything, because this is beginning to feel like a slow, painful death."

You sigh as you lower the phone from your ear, swallowing the lump in your throat. You've never heard his voice so shaky; you've never experienced Jungkook being anything but confident.

Jungkook has been persistent in reaching out, and you have told yourself you must be just as persistent in your resolve not to answer. This past month has been devoid of any trace of him, but just because he hurt you doesn't mean all your feelings for him have vanished. It's been hard on you; many times your thumb has hovered over the accept button when he called, but by the time you contemplate it, the call has already gone to voicemail.

Regarding that night, you have calmed down significantly since leaving his place feeling angry and upset. You have thought it over countless times, and although you still don't condone what he did, you genuinely believe he didn't act with ill intent. You just expected more from him; he always told you how it was different with you, that you meant more to him than anyone else. Only to then treat you like any other one of his insignificant flings. It made you question if you were so whipped for him that you failed to see he viewed you as a girl easy to fool. But you know Jungkook is more than just that one night; he may have disappointed you, but there have been many times he hasn't.

You have ignored every attempt he made to communicate with you; yet, you haven't blocked him on anything—it feels too final. Instead, you have been keeping yourself occupied. When you're not working, you've been going out with friends, reminding yourself of who you were before Jungkook. Of course, you didn't completely ignore your friends when he came into your life, but he did take up a big part of your free time.

They knew about him as well; while they may not have known all the dirty details of your relationship, they did know that you spent a lot of time with him and enjoyed doing so. And if you were happy, so were they. So when you replied in the group chat that you'd be joining them for a night out, they were shocked but didn't ask any questions. They were excited to have the gang together and didn't hesitate to ensure you had a good time.

Usually, you'd spend your weekends with Jungkook since you both were off then. You would be tangled in his sheets, a sweaty mess put in various positions inducing multiple orgasms. You had forgotten the thrill of being in the middle of a crowded dance floor, sweat rolling down your body from the heat of so many bodies so close together. Throwing back countless shots, you and your friends could barely dance in your heels and tight dresses without stumbling over.

You'd also forgotten how much male attention you receive when going out and mingling with new people. Although there are still many creeps around—for whom you had to get your guy friends to come to your rescue—sometimes there would be someone who seemed harmless enough to flirt with, but then you would remember a certain doe-eyed, dimpled-smiled man and would turn them down.

One time, when you had used your friend Taehyung as an escape from an otherwise seemingly good guy, pulling him behind you and wrapping his arms around your dancing figure for protection, he asked you why you didn't go for it. That was when you opened up and told him the full story about you and Jungkook. Taehyung has been a caring and understanding person for as long as you have known him, and he empathized with you when you explained your feelings and complicated situationship.

Since that night, he has been your confidant, your shoulder to lean on. He has witnessed firsthand how this month has not been easy for you, no matter how much you tried to forget about your fuck buddy/friend. After hearing about the detailed story of the last night you spent with Jungkook, he has been vocal about how you deserve someone who wants to be with only you and that you are more than enough. Yet, he never judges you and understands that you know a different side of Jungkook.

You know the Jungkook who moved all the mugs to the lowest shelf in his cupboard so that you could reach them, the Jungkook who sings loudly in the shower, the Jungkook who when he first falls asleep starts twitching with a cute, peaceful smile on his face.

You miss him.

You've passed the tattoo studio on your way home, stared at that flashing neon-red sign, and thought how all it would take to see him is for you to step through that door; if you just walked in and talked to him, maybe everything could turn around in your favour. You both could patch things up and be happy. You could be together.

You've looked through that window from afar, hoping to catch sight of the pierced, tattoo-covered man, reminiscing about when you were on the other side with him.

✧ ──── 《《 ──── ✧

The bell of his studio dings, signalling your entry. At the counter stands the pierced, tattoo-covered man you came for. He looks up from the book with his scheduled appointments, and when his eyes land on you, he flashes you that big, dimpled smile, the corners of his tired eyes crinkling in delight.

"Hey, baby. I wasn't expecting you. What are you doing here so late?"  

He drops his pen onto the book and rounds the counter, meeting you halfway. His lips press against yours in a quick kiss as his hands settle on your waist while yours find their way around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

"I could ask you the same thing. When you texted that you were still here, I thought I would stop by to see you," you shrug.

Jungkook sighs and gives you a tight-lipped smile, lifting a hand to brush through his hair.

"My last client of the day cancelled on me, so I decided to stay back and work on some designs. I sent the others home, and I guess the time got away from me," he scratches the back of his neck.

"Mmm, handsome and hard-working, what a catch," you smile and tiptoe to give his cheek a peck.

"I don't want to disturb you, though. Should I go?" you continue, rubbing your hands up and down his chest.

Jungkook shakes his head as he removes your hands from his chest.

"No, stay. I could use your presence; it has been a stressful day."

He walks over to the studio's entrance, flips the open sign, locks the door, and pulls down the blinds, now closing for the day. Lastly, he switches off the main lights, leaving only the multiple neon lights on the walls in various designs and colours to keep you from darkness.

He takes one of your hands into his, interlocking your fingers, and leads you through the dimly lit room to behind the counter, and to the desk you've seen him work at many times. He rolls out his chair and sits at his desk, looks up at you, and pats his thigh, and you comply with his silent request. You sit, his muscular thighs between your legs. He puts one arm around you, holding your waist to keep you steady, while his other arm rests on your thigh, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Once in his lap, you look at the glance over the wooden surface covered with scattered papers, all filled with his artwork. Some designs are drawn with intricate detail, while others are simple sketches. But they are all equally impressive—sometimes you forget how talented Jungkook is.

"Oh my gosh, Kook! These are amazing!" you gasp, picking up one of the sheets and turning your head to look at him.

He takes the paper from your hands and places it back on the desk. You see the tips of his ears turning red.

"They're alright," he shrugs; you notice he seems sullen.

You turn in his hold, your body sideways on his lap, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"What has got you so stressed out?" you ask, pushing back his fringe before moving your hand to fiddle with his earring.

Jungkook closes his eyes at the feel of your touch, exhaling a breath in relief. He leans forward, rests his forehead on your shoulder and hugs you tight.

"I just—that client, that was the fifth cancellation this month. I don't understand why; we had several consultations, and I listened to all his requests. I showed him so many different design options that I had sketched for him. I don't know maybe I—maybe I lost my touch or something."

"Hey, now that's not true; this stuff is unbelievable, Kook." you gesture at the multiple illustrations on his desk. "And you have been completely booked up with back-to-back appointments every day, I have never seen you so busy."

You tug on his hair and he whines, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and pulling you closer.

"Plus, do you think I would let a guy who's lost his touch anywhere near my skin with even a drop of ink?" you tease, your lips brushing his ear.

"That was months ago," he mumbles into your neck, and you feel the coolness of his lip rings against your skin.

“Yeah, and I would still let you be the one to do it."

Jungkook looks up at you as he argues, “Not like I’m going to let anyone touch you besides me.”  

You boop his nose with your own, which makes him chuckle.

“I’m serious, Jungkook. You are passionate about your job, and it shows in your artwork. You are such a talented artist, people see your pieces online and come from all different places just to get inked by you. You. Because you are fucking Jeon Jungkook,” you poke at his chest.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles softly as he brings your hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “How do you always know what to say to calm me down?”

Your eyes sparkle at his question, and you smile gently as you hold his cheek, your thumb caressing the soft skin while pressing your forehead to his. “I know you. Everything I said is simply the truth.”  

Jungkook’s mouth parts slightly in surprise, but his gaze softens. You weren’t sure due to the low lighting in the room, but his cheeks seemed to flush as well. 

"Thank you, baby,” he says almost shyly, and you couldn’t believe this was the same man who flirts with you so shamelessly at every chance he gets, nor the same man who has had you screaming in pleasure several times a night.

There are many sides to Jungkook, and you adored all of them.

You wrap your arms around his torso, embracing him tightly, burying your face in his neck, and he hugs your waist just as firmly, kissing your forehead.

You both sit like that for a while, and your breathing becomes in sync as if your bodies had become one.

“I-I'm…I'm glad you came here,” he clears his throat as his arms tighten around your waist, basking in your warmth and comfort.

Jungkook has vented to you about work before, but this time, it feels different. You’ve never seen him like this.

"I'm here anytime you need to talk, Kook," you reassure.

“Well, that's good to know…” He said with a nervous smile. “But I meant…I'm glad you came here that day to get your tattoo, that you came into my life.”

Your body freezes momentarily at his words, but soon a fire ignites in your heart and spreads throughout you. You are filled with pride and relief that he feels comfortable and trusts you enough to share his personal feelings so openly.

"I'm glad I did too," you whisper, "I meant what I said though, I'm here if you ever need to talk."

“Okay,” he whispers, “Okay. But on one condition.”

"What?"

He tilts his head to look down at you, you look up at him through your lashes.

"You have to come and hold me like this when I do."

"Deal," you giggle.

"Seal it with a kiss," he leans down slightly.

You lift your head and meet his lips in an emotional kiss which soon turned more heated as your tongues mingled together.

You move down his body, kneeling between his thighs. Your hands grip his belt, and Jungkook pants lightly, his anticipation and need high. You unbuckle it and unbutton his jeans effortlessly, then quickly pull them down far enough for his bulge to be exposed. As expected, he is already hard for you. The effect you have on him is always intense. You glance up at the heavy-breathing man above you, eyes hooded and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You shift your focus from his bulge to his t-shirt, gripping it by the hem and pulling it up. When he realizes what you want, he assists you; he sits up a little, grabbing the back of the collar and pulling it over his head with one hand, fully exposing his toned core. Just like that, his shirt is off, and he tosses it to the floor to be found later.  

Your hands create goosebumps across his exposed skin as they brush against his lower abdomen when you grab the hem of his boxers and pull them down. His erection springs up and rests against his abdomen, impatient for your touch.

At the sight of his big, veiny dick, you unconsciously drag your tongue along your upper lip. You quickly remove his jeans and boxers, along with your shirt, leaving you in your bra, panties, and skirt.

Your hand wraps around his shaft, and your thumb swipes across his head, smoothing the precum over his length to make it feel better. You stroke him gently a couple of times before leaning down and placing a soft kiss against the tip of his cock. Jungkook hisses at the sensation, and he throws his head back.

You slowly begin to move your hand up and down his cock; you enjoy building him up gradually and prolonging his release. A knowing look flashes across his eyes when he discovers what you are doing. He chuckles, and then you swirl your tongue around his head, causing the smile to fall from his face immediately as his hand grips the sides of the chair.

“D-don’t tease,” he breathes heavily.

Your lips curve up into a barely noticeable smile at his reaction. You lick him from the base of his length to the top, swirling your tongue around his head once more before slowly pushing him between your lips and going down on him, your tongue pressing against his hardness as you take him in.

His abs clench at the contact, and a moan slips past his lips, “Fuck, yeah." 

You glimpse up at him; his eyes are closed tightly, and sweat is forming on his golden skin, the exact way you like seeing him when you suck him off. The fact that you could affect him like that without even doing very much boosts you with confidence.

You start moving back up slowly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft and squeezing him gently, earning a whimper. You repeat your movements with eagerness.

You love giving him head, hearing his moans of pleasure, having him fall apart at your touch.

After a few rougher squeezes from your hand, you suck harder and take as much of him as you can into your mouth, using your hand to pump the rest of him that you can’t fit.

"Feel good?" you ask the obvious question.

He whines and raises his hand to your hair, pushing his fingers through the locks and out of your face. “That feels so good," he rasps.

You hum around his dick; you look up and find him already gazing down at you, his eyes dark with lust—an image you will carry with you to your grave.

You flutter your eyelashes at him and take him even deeper, fully engulfing his dick, his tip hitting the back of your throat each time you bob your head. 

Jungkook gulps and his eyes roll back in his head. You feel his hands tangle in your hair, pulling slightly as his hips thrust up into your mouth on instinct.

You go back to slowly moving your hand up and down his length, and it lasts for a few seconds until his hands are over yours, stopping you. Before you can question him, he takes your head in a tight hold and forces you to move faster, his large hands enveloping your head. He gently pushes down against your head until his entire cock is in your mouth and holds you there, your nose touching his pelvis. Your eyes water, but you power through, breathing deeply through your nose.

The man appears to be in pure bliss. His thighs are shaking, and his eyes are blinking rapidly, trying hard to stay open. His mouth is agape as he releases breathy moans, his chest heaving up and down.

“Your mouth feels so good, baby, fuck,” he growls.

When he is satisfied, he pulls you up off of his cock and removes his hands. You pop back up and let go of his throbbing length, a string of saliva briefly connecting your mouth to his tip. You gasp for air with tears streaming down your face, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Always such a good girl for me, aren't you?” he says, lifting your chin and wiping your wet cheeks.

You nod with a sniff, your eyes still glassy.

Jungkook suddenly reaches forward to grab your hips and pulls you onto his lap. You quickly straddle him, your hands pressing against his chest as you grind softly against his dick. His lips crash into yours in a messy kiss; it lasts for a little while before he pulls away and looks straight at you, “You know I love having your mouth around me, baby, but I need to be inside you." 

Then he’s capturing your lips once more, his arms encircling your legs around his waist as he does so. His hands rest under your thighs, effortlessly supporting your weight. You’re so immersed in how seamlessly his lips meld with yours that you don’t notice you both have shifted from the chair until you feel him place you on the desk.

Jungkook glides his hands up your thighs, only to have them wound around your waist, pulling you against him with force. He stands between your legs, with your pussy pressed directly against his member.

You grind your soaked panties against him, causing his lips to detach from yours, letting a groan escape from his lips as he tilts his head back, exposing his neck in the process. You trail small, wet kisses from the side of his face, along his jawline, and down his neck, before stopping at the junction between his neck and collarbone. You suck harshly on his skin, earning yourself a few moans from Jungkook, and you feel his chest vibrate.

Jungkook takes hold of your neck, his hand on your throat and kisses you intensely, attempting to express the longing he has felt for you since the moment you walked into the studio. His tongue swipes against your lower lip asking for entrance, and you don’t hesitate to let him in. As his tongue dances with yours, you feel his hands tug at your skirt before he pulls it down, pausing to allow you to lift off the desk enough for him to remove it along with your bra, tossing them to join the rest of the clothes on the floor.

The sight of your naked torso distracts him from doing anything else, his gaze lingers on your breasts before it shifts to your hip where your tattoo is. Jungkook’s hand instinctively glides over the skin adorned with black ink.

“It's still my favourite piece I've ever done,” Jungkook mutters before he plants kisses along your sternum and then finally on your breasts. Before his lips can explore further, you cup his face and bring it back to yours, and you both smile into the kiss. He gathers you in his arms and moves toward the tattoo chair behind him.

Jungkook carefully lowers you onto the reclined chair, and you watch as he stands at the edge of it, removing the black jeans that are already halfway down his legs. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind that you’re watching every movement of his; you bite your lip and smirk, and it seems to turn him on even further, which urges him to discard his pants and join you quickly.

He crawls over you, supporting his weight with the arms on either side of your head. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips before he begins his exploration of your body, using his lips. Open-mouthed kisses are placed along your neck, across the curve of your breasts, and back up to your neck, where he decides to leave his mark by sucking on the skin at the base of your neck. The noises that escape your lips only motivate him to suck even more aggressively, creating even more red marks as he moves down your body.

“Kook, do something,” and as if he had been waiting for those words, Jungkook starts to move lower on your body until he’s hovering over your clothed pussy. You watch as his nose skims over the wet patch on your underwear. His hands smooth over your legs before they settle onto your hips, which he doesn’t leave unmarked as he sucks on the skin above your tattoo. Your hips rise, yet his stronghold stops you from squirming. “Kook, I need you.”

Upon hearing your desperate begging, Jungkook presses a finger to your covered heat, skillfully finding the bundle of nerves that have you writhing beneath his touch. He begins to rub between your legs, with the sole barrier to full contact being the delicate piece of cloth. He keeps teasing you through your panties, relishing the sounds you make as you squirm beneath him. Deciding that you’ve had enough of the torture, Jungkook hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties before pulling them down, revealing your glistening cunt. He locks eyes with you, and you observe from above as he slips a finger inside you, his stare unwavering. As he pumps his finger inside you, your head tilts back, and you let out a string of moans.

“You’re so tight, baby,” Jungkook comments before inserting another finger inside you, gentle kisses along the inside of your thighs as your hands weave into his hair. You’re surprised when you feel him sucking on your clit; the extra stimulation makes you tremble against his thrusting fingers.

“Mmm, and so wet. Your pussy tastes so good, so fucking sweet.”

“Oh my god, K-kook,” your back arches off the bed as he adds in a third finger while keeping his mouth on your sex. He smiles triumphantly upon hearing you repeat his name like a mantra, and he sets out to ensure you’re moaning it even more loudly. You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress your desperate moans, but it's in vain when Jungkook curls his fingers within you, hitting a specific spot that causes you to clutch his hair tightly and cry out his name shamelessly.

Jungkook relentlessly drives into you, his fingers curled to target the spot that makes you moan his name, while his mouth remains attached to your clit, teeth lightly tugging and grazing the bud before his lips form a tight seal around it. You feel the pressure in your lower stomach intensify with every thrust of Jungkook's fingers and every flick of his tongue, all leading up to your orgasm.

Jungkook watches as the wave of ecstasy flows through your body, and he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, with the way your face contorts in ecstasy. His fingers are still thrusting inside, helping you ride out your high, but the oversensitivity soon becomes too much, and you have to push him away.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to notice what a handsome man Jungkook truly is. Complementing his defined biceps and strong thighs were his abs, impeccably shaped, and you observe as the stunning man above you licks the remnants of you from his fingers. The sight has you wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down so that his chest meets yours. Jungkook smirks at your action before he hungrily attacks your lips with his glistening ones, letting you taste yourself as you recover from your climax.

“Take this off,” you mumble against his lips, your foot at his lower back attempting to push his boxers down. He quickly complies with your request, shedding the dark grey boxers before leaning down to his jeans on the floor to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket and get a condom. He rips open the foil with his teeth, being careful not to tear the condom in the process, before rolling it down his length. He hovers over you again, keeping most of his weight off of you with the support of his arms.

Jungkook kisses at your navel before trailing upward towards your breasts. His mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking on it, he takes his time sucking one breast while kneading the other one before he switches. Your hands hold onto his biceps, gliding over his skin as he prepares your body for another climax. When he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your two mounds, he places one more kiss against your lips before looking into your eyes.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Mhm, Kook. Want you so bad.”

And so Jungkook takes his length and aligns himself at your entrance, the tip of his member almost pushing past your folds. He gives you one last peck on the corner of your mouth before his member sinks into your pussy, making you wince at the stretch of your walls. He pushes himself until he is buried deep within you, causing you to whimper when you feel his full length inside of you. Jungkook groans loudly as he feels himself being embraced by the warmth and tightness of your wet, velvety walls. He reaches for your hands and lifts them to rest on both sides of your head and interlocks your fingers with his. His forehead meets yours, and both of you share a longing gaze while relishing the moment. Once you've adjusted to his size, you move beneath him, and Jungkook takes it as a signal to begin his ravaging.

He pulls back all the way, leaving only his tip inside of you, before pushing himself balls-deep within you once again. You urge him on with your voice, calling for him to go faster and harder, and he complies by thrusting into you at an astonishing speed. With each thrust of his, Jungkook’s name escapes your lips in moans that fill the studio, along with his panting and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You feel the warmth of his chest leave yours when he sits up, his hands gripping your waist, pressing his fingernails into your skin. The new position allows him to pull you to meet each of his thrusts, hitting at a new angle that makes you cry out his name. When he starts hitting that same spot that tipped you over the edge earlier, you grab his arms and pull him so that he’s on top of you again. His entire weight is on top of you, but you don’t care, not when his thrusts are paired with his lips on your neck.

You moan loudly, which is followed by your pussy convulsing around his cock, and Jungkook knows that you’re close. Your nails scratch against his broad back, leaving a stinging sensation that only adds to his pleasure. You're sure he’ll have red marks all over his back as if he’s been attacked, but it's a fair trade because he’s marked you plenty with his lips.

Jungkook feels you clenching around him even tighter than before, and he’s slamming his hips against yours, urging you to reach your climax. When Jungkook feels your nails dig deeper into his back, his hand reaches between your two sweaty bodies and draws circles on your clit, which sends you off into euphoria. Your second orgasm of the night hits you harder than the first, and your body would have trembled if it were not for Jungkook’s body in the way—the body that is still connected to yours and continues thrusting into you. Your swollen walls clench so tightly that Jungkook starts chasing his high. He groans loudly against your neck as he shallowly thrusts into you, helping the both of you ride out your orgasms.  

Jungkook sighs in release, unaware of how long he’s been holding his breath. Jungkook detaches himself from you, and you gasp lightly, feeling somewhat empty as the warmth leaves with him. He rolls off of you, and the two of you lie close together, side by side, attempting to regain your breath after the intense exchange. You sense his gaze from the corner of your eye, and when you turn to face him, your eyes meet his round, dark brown ones.

"Come here."

Unsatisfied with just your shoulders touching, Jungkook turns onto his side, and you do the same before the both of you shift closer to each other. His hands rest naturally on your hips as if returning them to their rightful place. No words are exchanged between the two of you, but there is no need to because you find yourself lost in the softness of his brown eyes, and he can’t help but mirror the wide grin that’s plastered on your face. His hand moves to your tattoo, and you observe his expression as his fingers hover over the indelible design on your skin. His eyes hold a sparkle that evokes a certain emotion to wash over you.

“So, do you feel better?” you ask, breaking the silence of the afterglow, but he looks confused at your words, and you find the sight adorable. “You were stressed out...”

“Me? Stressed out? Huh, I don't know what you're talking about.”

You are the one who's confused this time, but not for long, because the realization hits you when you see his mischievous smirk. You punch his arm playfully, and he grins almost too widely, his eyes forming crescents. His hands, which were placing feathery touches on your tattoo, are now tickling your sides, and he’s elated at the sound of your joyful laughter before pulling you against his chest.

Jungkook looks around the studio, the neon lights casting shadows on his face, "I feel good; how could I not? This is a first for me though— fucking at work."

You look up at him with raised brows in surprise, Jungkook smiles down at you and continues.

"You know, I didn't think the next time I had you back in my chair would be like this."

"Oh my gosh," you blush and hide your face in his chest, a little embarrassed but mostly shy at his remark. He laughs, and you feel it rumble through his chest; his hand lifts to pet down the back of your head.

"You can't be shy with me after all that. Every time I'm working on a client now, all I will be thinking about is you beneath me in this chair."

"I can't imagine what the crew would think if they found out what we did," you mumble into his chest with a little laugh.

"They would think I'm a sterilizing expert because there will be no evidence of what happened here," he sits up and gently strokes your ass, and then gives it a pinch, eliciting a gasp from you, "You're in charge of the desk, you little minx; I'll do the chair," he winks at you.

You're left to blush again, swooning as you both get up to remove any trace of the two of you in the studio.

✧ ──── 》》 ──── ✧

You blink away the tears forming in your eyes. Your thumb hovers over his name, considering calling him back just as you hear a knock at your door.

Answer your phone I've got so much to say I'm at my all-time low And it's just too much to take

Jungkook can raise his hands and admits he didn't handle that night as well as he could have, but he is truly sorry. He realizes that even if his intention wasn't to hurt or offend you, what he did wasn't his best moment. As much as he tells you that you are special to him and that what you two have is different—which is true—his actions didn't match his words, and you deserve better than that. Jungkook may not be the perfect gentleman, far from it, but he is better than that, especially when it concerns you.

As the hands of the clock tick away and more time passes, he gets up and begins pacing.

If you listened to his message you would have called by now right?

Jungkook isn't used to this—needing someone. Sure, he has desired certain women, and he always got them, but once the lust faded, he never wanted them to stay; never needed them to stay.

He hasn't always been like this, and he knows where it all began: the fear of giving his all to someone and then losing them, of handing over his heart to another and having them desecrate it.

Jungkook refused to be like his father; he watched him give his mother everything and love her immensely, only for her to run off without regard for him or Jungkook.

He fears emotionally connecting with someone else will end as he has always seen: being left alone and heartbroken.  

Because inevitably love is never simple, nor is it equal in the sacrifice of pouring oneself into another.

He can't imagine what could be worse than letting someone in and loving so wholly only to be left empty because you offered yourself up to someone undeserving.

Jungkook knows how good of a man his father is, and if he could get burned and scarred by love, Jungkook knows he doesn't stand a chance.

And who would willingly walk into a fire?

When people asked him why he didn't get into a serious relationship, he would say, “I like change. Life is too long to commit to one person and too short not to explore your options.”

But that was before he discovered you. Once you fit into his life so perfectly he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without you. He knew he had found that one constant in his life. 

The constant being: Y/L/N Y/N.

What he shared with you has always been simple, and the effort you both put in has always been equal.

Jungkook never believed he would find that kind of connection, one that flows with ease. Now that he has found it, he desires to keep you in his life and wants you to remain a part of him.

He will walk through the flames if you're on the other side.

Jungkook has never been fond of lingering and preferred moving from one thing to the next, one woman to the next. He didn't enjoy being too close; he always kept people at a distance maybe not physically but emotionally. Tattooing has been the only steady thing in his life; he was committed to his craft.

But you broke down his walls, shattered the pattern—you got close. He found the courage to let his guard down. He knows there is nothing to be wary of, no looming feeling that he will be met with disappointment. Everything is easy with you.

His cowardice had him ruling out a love that hadn't happened yet. Maybe he is a fool, but he can't live with regret. He's ready to dive off the deep end. It's draining to always be on the defence, ready to push people away, and he's tired. He wants to settle down and commit to you.

Jungkook can be vulnerable around you; he knows you won't use his weaknesses against him like people have in his past. You don't even view them as things that make him weak just what makes him human, because no one can be perfect. However, he would argue that you seem to be pretty damn close.

He feels most comfortable with you; he trusts you and can be himself. There is no pretence with you; Jungkook likes who he is around you.

Jungkook loves you.

In your eyes, he is the guy who comforted you when he saw how nervous you were while getting your first tattoo. The one who keeps an extra hoodie in his car for you because you are never dressed for the weather. The one who finishes work and picks up takeout for the two of you to eat together. That's the Jungkook you see, the one you know better than anyone else—the one you have wrapped around your precious finger.

You've never asked him to be any different from who he is, despite his shortcomings in many aspects. You never judge him for the life he's leading and never pressure him to change his ways, no matter how flawed. Yet you still never expect the worst from him.

So now, all he fears is that he has accomplished the one thing he dreaded the most, and has destroyed the link holding the two of you together.

Should he go to your place?

Jungkook hasn't gone over because he didn't want to seem overbearing; he wanted to give you your space until you felt ready to talk to him on your terms. Also, if you weren't answering his calls, you most likely wouldn't answer your door either.

But he doesn't want you to think he won't fight for you. He won't lose you without a lack of trying. If Jungkook is anything, he is persistent. He has too much left to say to you and he isn't about to sit here and take this distance any longer. He's willing to do whatever it takes.

As he looks out of his window and stares at the hundreds of lights, he feels a new surge of determination; he is rising from this low point he has sunk into, fed up with wallowing in his self-pity.

He turns and strides to his door, yanking it open with vigour. He sprints down the stairs and rushes outside into the chilly night, heading straight for his car.

Jungkook pulls out of his spot and drives the familiar route to your house, accelerating down the road at the maximum speed permitted by law. In his state of urgency, it seems that all he encounters are red lights and stop signs.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he has to hold himself back from stomping too hard on the gas pedal when the light turns green.

Answer your phone I've got to get to you God, I hope you're alone And someone new isn't next to you

Y/N POV

You gather yourself and halt your wandering thoughts to get up and check who is at your door. You are not expecting anyone, and you told your friends you won't be going out with them tonight. Your excuse was being too tired from work, but honestly, you just were too sad to pretend that you were okay.

Could it be him? He said he wouldn't give up, that he had to see me.

Do you want it to be him? You would be lying to yourself if you said no.

So it's a surprise when you open the door and see Taehyung standing there with his hands in his front pockets, teetering back and forth on his heels.

A part of you is disappointed, not because it's Taehyung but because it's not Jungkook.

"Tae? I said in the group chat that I'm not going out tonight. Didn't you see my message?"

He looks you up and down and barges in, walking past you.

"And didn't you see my message? I said you are going out tonight and I was coming over to pick you up. Why aren't you ready?"

To be fair you were so preoccupied on your phone, listening to Jungkook's message and reminiscing, that you didn't notice any other messages. But when you go to your chats, you see his words are true.

He plops down on your couch, stretching his arm out on the back and gives you an expectant look, his eyes wide and his brows raised.

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Go get ready," he makes a shooing gesture with his hand and continues.

"The clubs aren't open all night—well, actually they are..." his brows furrow as he looks off into the distance for a brief moment, then catches himself. "But I don't have all night, so let's go!" He demands with a clap of his hands.

"I'm not going out tonight, Tae. I told everyone I'm staying home."

You lie down on the couch next to his seated figure, with your back resting against the armrest.

"Didn't we just go over this?" he points between the two of you. "You are going out; everyone is already at the club. They got a table, and I'm sure Jimin has already downed a shocking amount of shots, so we have to leave soon if we want to catch up."

Taehyung taps your knee twice and then shoves your legs off the couch, bringing you to a sitting position. You take a deep breath and throw your head back, crossing your arms while closing your eyes.

"I don't feel like going out. I want to stay home."

"And do what? Continue to sulk over pretty tattoo boy?"

You open your eyes and turn your head toward him, pouting, "I was not sulking."

He stares at you with a raised brow, filled with doubt.

Rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh, your arms drop to your sides, "I'm just not in the mood, I'll only bring down the vibe."

Taehyung turns his body to face you, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"You're only making this harder for yourself by just sitting around and thinking about him, Y/N. I understand that you like him a lot—I do—but a guy like that isn't worth wasting your life waiting for him."

You look down at your hands in your lap and chip at your nail polish.

"He's been leaving me messages. He tells me how sorry he is and that he misses me. He sounds like he's having a rough time, too. That doesn't erase what he did, I know, but it was just one mistake. He's a good man, Tae. I've always known he wasn't perfect, but everyone has faults, right?"

Taehyung holds your hand and squeezes it, leaning down to meet your gaze. His voice is careful when he speaks.

"People like him always know the right thing to say. If he were such a good guy, he wouldn't have used you the way he did. Yes, everyone has faults, but you can find someone whose faults don't hurt you. It may have been only one mistake, but if he truly cared about you as he claimed, he would have never treated you that way."

Tears form in your eyes and your voice cracks. "It's just—I know him; it sounds pathetic, but he has shown me a side of himself that I know he doesn't show everyone. The real him and that's the Jungkook who has my heart. That's the Jungkook I love. We've experienced so much together, it's difficult to just move on from him."

"If you don't try to move on from him, how can you expect to, babe?"

He's right; you haven't tried. Throughout this entire period of your ignoring him, you have consistently kept Jungkook in your thoughts. Every time you went out with friends, every time a guy tried to flirt with you, and every time you held your phone—Jungkook. When you woke up, when you were at work, and when you went to bed—Jungkook. Even when you heard a knock at your door, as Taehyung did earlier, you hoped it was Jungkook.

Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook.

Your mind and heart were devoted to Jungkook. Everything revolved around him.

Your tears overflow, and you finally break. Taehyung wraps his arms around you, and you cry into his shoulder. He holds you until you calm down, and your sobs turn into sniffles.

You lift your head and wipe your cheeks.

"I'm such a mess, I'm so sorry, Tae. You came out to have a good time, and here you are consoling me. I have probably fucked up your fun night out," you croak out. "I must seem so stupid, all hung up over a guy."

"You haven't ruined anything, and you certainly aren't stupid. I would never think that of you. I know how much of yourself you give to someone important to you. I wish you would give yourself to someone worthy, not someone who takes advantage of you. You are an amazing person, and if Jungkook hasn't realized how lucky he is to have you, then he's the stupid one, Y/N."

"Thank you, Tae. Not just for tonight, but for listening to me go on about Jungkook this past month like a sad, broken record. You stuck by me, have been so caring, and always validated my emotions. I swear I'm the one who's lucky and unworthy of you."

"Nonsense, you know you can depend on me anytime," he says, patting your head and smiling affectionately.

You smile back, glance down, and see his shirt is stained with your tears.

"I ruined your shirt," you sniffle, pinching at the fabric.

Taehyung looks down at it and shrugs, "Hey, I prefer your tears to stain my shirt rather than Jimin's vomit," he jokes to lighten the mood.

You laugh, and he points at your face, his expression bright.

"Aha! There she is! Happy Y/N, I thought I had lost her!" he exclaims.

He turns his head, looking around, arms stretched out as if speaking to a crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, no need to fear; I have managed to make Y/N laugh."

Taehyung once again proves to be the best friend one could have; you can always count on him to cheer you up and gather the pieces of your broken heart without fail.

"Shut up, Tae. I have neighbours," you giggle, playfully pushing him.

He joins your giggles and returns your playful push, "Well then, go get dressed! If you don't I will run up and down the hallway screaming. I came here to take you out and have fun. Sitting at home alone can't be better than partying with your insanely funny, incredibly handsome best friend. And if that isn't enough, Seokin's dancing is a sure way to lift anyone's spirit."

"Okay, fine," you agree, getting up with a big smile. The image of Seokjin's dancing already boosts your mood.

Making your way to your bedroom, you yell out, "But if anyone comments on my swollen eyes, you'll be dealing with them!"

"I've got your back, babe. Don't worry!"

You can always count on Taehyung.

Tell me, tell me now am I too late Is there somebody new taking my place? Is there somebody's lips on you Where mine used to be, yeah?

Jungkook parks across the street from your building; he sits in his car, pondering whether it's too late to knock at your door. Are you already asleep? Should he have waited until tomorrow? If you answer and open it to find him standing there, will you shut it in his face?

He knows right now he's not your favourite person, but he doesn't believe you would be so cruel as to turn him away at your doorstep.

He rubs his hands down his face and lets out a deep sigh.

How could he let things end up like this?

He ruined something so special, so sacred. Building a relationship so pure and superior doesn't happen to everyone, and he managed to have it hanging by a thread.

Your relationship can't just end because of one mistake—a big mistake, yes, but he believes that what you two have is strong enough to overcome this. The two of you have made so many wonderful, meaningful memories.

Jungkook remembers how good things were before this—before he ruined everything.

✧ ──── 《《 ──── ✧

Jungkook never imagined he would witness such a breathtaking sight: you bare before him, glazed eyes and slightly parted lips, lovely sounds escaping as he traced wet kisses along the nape of your neck, down your throat, over the curves of your breasts, pausing to swirl his tongue over a sensitive bud, drawing out his name from your throat, the same one now decorated with shades of blue and purple.

“Please, Kook,” you beg, pleading with him for more, and he is more than willing to give it to you, knowing he can hardly deny you anything.

He smiles, kissing his way back up to your lips, positioning his body over yours and aligning his hips so he can slide into your warmth with a soft thrust, the wetness coating the inside of your thighs showing how aroused he has made you.

You clutch at his shoulders with a moan, nails digging in and creating crescent shapes with every thrust he makes. Jungkook fucks you slow and deep, hitting every nerve within you, making you unravel before him in no time at all. His lips move slowly against yours, tongues twirling together as your legs wrap tightly around his body, drawing him closer and deeper into you, his sighs of contentment pouring into your mouth.

Jungkook is sure this is what heaven feels like: his hands on you, hips rocking against your own as you devour the sounds escaping each other's lips. You encourage one another until he picks up pace, gazing down at your face, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

The coil in your stomach tightens, twisting, and is ready to snap. Jungkook is also at his limit, eyes hooded but maintaining eye contact with yours, his forearms supporting his weight on either side of your body.

Overcome with pleasure, the feeling of his skin against your own, united with you in the most intimate way two people can be. The act is sinful but fully infused with the profound bond you both share. What you and Jungkook have cannot be expressed in words, and he does not think the two of you need to articulate what you both understand.

“Come on, baby, cum for me,” he husks, gently nibbling at your jaw.

One of his hands moves to where your bodies meet, flicking his thumb over your clit repeatedly. Then you come undone, the release so intense that his name echoes off every corner of the small bedroom. He continues throughout your orgasm, prolonging it until the sensation of your walls tightening around him brings him to his climax, spilling inside of you with a groan of your name, lips pressed harshly to yours, putting everything he feels into a single kiss.

He pulls away, carefully removes the condom and ties a knot at its end before disposing of it and falling onto the bed, shifting onto his side to look at you. The moonlight streams through the window, illuminating your skin in a radiant glow. Jungkook trails his fingertips along the surface of your arm, moving down until he reaches your hip, pulling you closer to him as you tuck your head into his chest.

Jungkook spots the numerous red crescents on your body already beginning to take on a darker colour — almost as deep as the black ink he used for your tattoo. Jungkook wishes for nothing more than the colour of the marks to be so deep that it will cover you forever.

He holds you close, his thumb brushing over the familiar tattoo on your hip— the everlasting mark that brought you two together. You found each other that day months ago when you walked into his studio and had him ink his design on you, and ever since then, you have been a part of his life. The ink serves as a reminder of the bond between you and Jungkook, etched onto your skin just as you are to him.

“You should let me give you another one."

“What do you think I should get?” you whisper against his chest.

"My name, here," he replies, his inked finger tracing just above the left side of your chest, right over your heart.  

You smile as you push him so that he lies on his back; you move to lie on your stomach between his legs, your chin resting on his chest. His hands come to your back, caressing it up and down.

"Hmm, and you'll get my name here," you lightly run your pointer finger over his left pec.

Jungkook lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiles tenderly, and nods while humming in agreement. His fingers linger, skimming your face as his gaze softens. His eyes are filled with adoration as he looks at you.

Jungkook can feel your heartbeat against his stomach; he wonders if you can feel his own under your touch. Both of your hearts are beating rapidly, which he assumes is due to the physical exertion you both just experienced and not from this impassioned moment you two are having.

He can physically feel how much affection there is between you two. He has never felt that before. It's moments like this that make Jungkook feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

"Aren't tattoo artists usually against getting other people's names tattooed?" you tease with a smirk and a raised brow.

Jungkook shrugs with a smirk, his tongue playing with his lip rings, "I live by my own rules."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, "Oh, what a rebel you are."

Jungkook's hands go to your sides and tickle you with a gentle pinch.

"Kook!" you laugh as you jolt further up his body.

"Kook!" he mocks in a high-pitched voice, imitating you before wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close.

You pout and make a soft 'hmph' sound so insanely cute that Jungkook can't resist the smile spreading across his face; he laughs and then kisses your pouty lips and all over your face. You giggle and lightly tug his necklace with your finger, bringing his mouth to yours for a long, sweet kiss. When you break apart, Jungkook gives one final peck above your left breast.

"I was serious, you know," he murmurs, voice low. He juts his chin lightly to where he last placed his lips.

"Haven't you marked me enough?" you stretch out your neck and gesture at the hickey-covered skin.

"I wanna mark you every way I can, baby," he smiles smugly.

One of your hands plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the other plays with the hoop in his ear. You avoid eye contact, keeping your eyes focused on the earring.

"Tattoos are forever, Kook," you say sheepishly.

"You're telling me," Jungkook chuckles, tilting his head toward his right arm covered in a sleeve of tattoos. He turns his head to kiss your wrist and then cups your face with both hands, making you look at him, "Hey, you planning on going somewhere and not telling me?"

You shake your head, his big hands still holding it.

"Hmm, I'm a bit worried now; I need to hear you say it," he squints his eyes, teasing.

"No, I'm not going anywhere," you grin.

Jungkook mirrors your grin and nods, "Good," he pulls your face closer and nudges his nose against yours, "Because I'm not either."

He squishes your cheeks together in his hands, making your lips pucker out.

"It's not easy to find someone this cute," he coos, shaking your head.

You pull your head from his grasp and lightly slap his chest. His hands slide down to your ass and give it a firm squeeze, long fingers digging into the smooth flesh.

"Even harder to find someone equally as sexy,” he whispers in your ear, his teeth grazing lightly. His voice is so deep you feel it vibrate through his body against yours.

"Huh, it can't be too hard, I found you," you quip, poking his cheek.

Jungkook gives your ass a spank, and you gasp as he flips you both over, with you now under his hovering body.

"Why don't I show you just how lucky we both are?" his tone dripping with seduction.

The tip of his nose trails down your neck as his lips ghost over your skin, down to the valley of your breasts. He stops to knead the soft mounds, surging forward to swirl his tongue over one of the hardened nubs before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. He hums in satisfaction. He releases it, giving it a gentle bite, and switches to show the other the same attention.

Once pleased, he continues his trail past your stomach and stops at your pulsing heat. He nestles his head between your legs, his hands grip your thighs and spread you wide open, your already slick folds clench around nothing in anticipation.

Jungkook gives your clit a teasing lick before diving in without hesitation. You whimper when his mouth latches onto you, his wide tongue licking a slow, filthy stripe over your slit, your hands flying into his hair. He groans, his eyes rolling back as he tastes you, his tongue circling your clit and then flicking over it repeatedly before dragging down to press at your entrance. Your hand tightens in his hair as his tongue presses deep into your dripping hole.

“Fuck, Kook,” you whine, grinding harder as your thighs tighten around his head.

He exhales through his nose, eyes crinkling as he smiles into your pussy when you buck your hips against his face. The sequence of sucking, licking, and prodding with his lips and tongue has you both writhing in ecstasy. The wet, sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue working against you fill the room. The intimate night of passion continues until the moon gives way to the sun.

✧ ──── 》》 ──── ✧

Jungkook is pulled out of his memories when he sees the door of the main entrance to your building open. He watches you step out, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest upon seeing you.

Your short, tight dress hugs your body in all the right places. Your tall, thin high heels complement your legs phenomenally. Your hair cascades down your figure, making you look like an angel. You look gorgeous.

The sight of you would bring any man to his knees. You must be dressed to go out for the night, so he must act now if he doesn't want his drive here to be for nothing. He moves to get out of his car, but just as his hand touches the handle, he sees a man walk out right behind you, and Jungkook freezes.

Jungkook looks closely at the man's face; he's good-looking. He's sure he recognizes him from your posts. He looks like one of the guys you've tagged in your pictures, the ones where he's had his arm around you. The happy idiot. What was it... Taemin? Taejin? Taewoo?

Whoever he is, he extends his arm for you to link with yours, and you do. You're about to step down the stairs when you stop and say something to the man. You have an anxious expression, but whatever you say to the man beside you only brings a fond smile to his face. He responds to you and leans down to kiss your cheek.

The cheek that Jungkook's lips have been on more times than he can count.

And you light up as if he made everything better. You walk down the stairs, arm in arm with the man whom Jungkook worries has taken his place.

Once you step off the last step, you stop once more, unlink your arm, and pull out your phone. The light from the screen shines on your face; you tap your fingers on it for a few seconds before putting it back in your purse. You relink your arms with who Jungkook thinks is the luckiest guy in the world and set off down the street, heading to your destination.

Jungkook feels the wind being knocked out of him. He hadn't even realized he had gotten out of his car. He stands far enough that you don't notice him, but close enough to see you perfectly. To see how you were on the phone he knows is full of his messages and calls—that you are still ignoring.

Tell me, tell me now, what can I do To make it up to you Won't you tell me, please? Tell me, please

All the hope and determination he had when he left his house seemed to have disintegrated. He feels small, much like your figure becomes as you walk further away from him on the arm of another.

Jungkook stares at your back until he loses sight of you as you round the corner. He stands there feeling like he has just been slapped in the face for the second time tonight, but this one stings much more.

What else can he do?

Jungkook doesn't know how to make it up to you, and at this point, he's unsure if he's fighting a losing battle. You seem to be doing just fine without him. It hurts to see you happy when he has been miserable without you.

He needs you to talk to him, to tell him what to do to win you back. What he has to do so he can hear your laugh, smell your scent, and touch your skin. He needs to have you back in his arms, on his lips—in his life.

He tilts his head back, eyes focused on the moon and how it mocks him, shining brightly while he is filled with darkness.

He stands there, disoriented; all he can do is let out a bitter laugh at the irony that he drove all the way here to watch you walk away from him—now and quite possibly forever.

With a sad smile, he is overwhelmed with questions, out of his mind. Why are you two ending? How can you? How can you two end?  

All your memories together overflow out of his perforated heart, he puts his hand over his chest trying to block them and keep them inside, but they escape through his fingers.

Jungkook had you by his side and took you for granted; now he is watching you be cherished by another man while he stands by like a stranger in the night.

He doesn't want to be like this, he doesn't. He hates this, really hates this.

He doesn't believe it would hurt this much even if his heart stopped.

Answer your phone I've got to talk to you I'm out here in the cold Trying to get through to you, oh

Jungkook never envisioned that when he finally loved someone, he would be left alone and heartbroken— not because you decided to run off, not because you were undeserving, but because he pushed you away.  

He took too long to walk through the flames and got burned. He dove off the deep end too late into a pool of emptiness and hit the bottom.

Jungkook stands in the street, the cold air biting at his cheeks, but he can't find the strength to return to his car and drive home. He came here on a mission to talk to you face to face. He hopes that if he stands here long enough, you might walk back around that corner and come straight to him. He hopes you will answer his plea and do something to fix him. Hold him in your arms and tell him that everything will be okay and that the two of you will work together to mend what has been broken.

But you don't, and Jungkook's heart may be beyond repair at this rate.

Jungkook's heart hurts so badly that it's strange that he's even alive.

He should have followed you, chased you blindly even if you were trying to run away from him. He should have yelled at the top of his lungs that there's a hole in his heart that can't be filled and he's dying of pain.

How can he forget you? He doesn't know how to do that.

Like the tattoo he inked on your hip, you are etched in him— an indelible impression on his heart.

You are the only person he wants, your hands to comfort him, your voice to soothe his heart.

He'll have to settle for listening to your voice through the phone, even if it's only your voicemail.

Jungkook digs into his pocket for his phone, unlocks it and with your name already on the screen, presses the call button and waits.

Answer your phone, answer your phone Answer your phone, answer your phone Answer your phone

But he doesn't have to wait for long.

He's immediately met with a voice, but not your sweet voice; instead it's an answering machine.

And now he has been slapped for the third time tonight, so hard that he stands there in the cold, gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles might bleed. He releases a shaky breath as his eyes fill with tears, and spill over before he knows it.

Jungkook is hit with the reality that you still refuse to talk to him. You have now blocked his number on your phone and blocked him out of your life.

"We are unable to reach the person you are calling at this time. Please try calling back later."

↬ so how do we feel? hope he suffered enough for your liking. let me know what you think! muah! 💋

taglist: @bangtans-momma @celticcountrygal @annafarrr

[wandanatrules]

Can you do g!p WandaNat fighting over reader but they just agreed with each other to take reader at the same time at a college party.

Three’s A Party

Hi guys! Thank you to all those that sent requests, please keep them coming. I kind of took this one loosely. I didn’t do the threesome part but if enough of you guys comment saying you want it I will write a part two!! I didn’t really feel like proofreading it (sorry it’s kinda ass).

word count: 1.8k

pairing: Beefy popular g!p Nat x Nerdy beefy g!p Wanda x cheerleader fem reader

warnings: smut, nat and wanda have penises, cursing, name calling, oral, drunkenness, penetration, foul language, dirty talk, roughness, voyuerism, potential threesome, slight angst, (let me know if I missed anything!)

“Tonight is the night I am finally gonna bag y/n. I can’t wait, she’s been catching my eye for a while now, being the only girl who hasn’t thrown herself on me.”, Natasha said, while looking in the mirror and making her final touches before the party.

Wanda’s head popped up at Natasha’s words. “Wait, what do you mean? I was gonna try to talk to y/n tonight.” 

“Wait damn Wans I had no idea you were into y/n like that. I guess the best one wins.”, Natasha said with a friendly nudge on the shoulder before heading out the door of their shared apartment.

The best friends arrived at the party together in Natasha’s car, immediately being swarmed by girls, Natasha in particular. Being the star basketball player and wrestler at their college, makes Natasha perfectly built with a figure that is to die for.

Wanda on the other hand was your typical nerd. While she does have an incredible physique herself due to her tendency to workout and strength train when she’s stressed, her focus on her studies keeps any attention away from her. 

And you were just the typical popular cheerleader, who just so happened to be very familiar with Natasha. You were always in the front cheering her on in her sports and congratulating her on her wins. While you tried to make it obvious you want her it seems as though she is always distracted by the hundreds of girls waking up in her bed. But tonight you were determined to be the last one to be in her bed.

Across the floor of the party you saw the pair chatting while sipping on their respective drinks. Natasha was wearing a black wife beater with a loose pair of carpenter pants and a black leather jacket. Her thick red hair was cascading down in full waves. She was talking with a shorter redhead who you didn’t know but had seen her with a couple times but it never seemed to be romantically, so you weren’t threatened.  

“Okay fine only because you’re my best friend. I'll back off and I'll let you talk to her first, but if she’s not feeling you I'll shoot my shot. Okay?” Natasha said as she saw you looking in their direction getting ready to come over.

Wanda sighed, that’s not what she was hoping to hear. The truth is that she lied about wanting to talk to you. She only said that to keep Natasha from talking to you, so she could talk to Natasha. Yeah she talks to Natasha everyday but she wants Natasha to talk to her the way she talks to the millions of girls in her bed every night.

”Hey y/n it’s good to see you again.”, Natasha said as she wrapped her hands around your waist in a tight intimate hug. Wanda bites her lip holding back a growl at the sight.

”Oh my god natty, you are so strong i bet you could pick me up and squat me.” You said with a flirty grab to her bicep and your classic bambi eyes.

”I probably could, hopefully I see you next time I'm in the weight room. But um I don't think you met my friend Wanda.” Natasha said while pointing you in the direction of a shorter redhead with a nice build as well. 

“Oh hey Wanda nice to meet you, I'm y/n”, you said hurriedly and dismissively, not interested in talking to anyone but Natasha at the moment. 

“What are you drinking Natty? Why haven’t you gotten me a drink yet?” You said teasingly, taking her drink and making a show of putting your mouth to the tip of the bottle. 

“Yeah go ahead Nat buy her a drink I'll be fine.” Wanda said, waving you both off.

”Are you sure?” Natasha mouthed before you pulled her away.

Wanda nodded her head before going off to find something stronger for herself to drown her sorrows. 

“Alright let’s cut to the chase natty, do you not think i’m pretty?” You said scooting closer to her on the couch you two ended up on.

”What y/n I think you are absolutely gorgeous baby.” She said putting your hair behind your ear. 

“Okay well then i want you to take me somewhere and show me just how gorgeous you think I am. Okay natty?” You said in her ear before she shot up and led you out the room by your wrist.

The two of you wandered down the halls of the frat house, before stumbling into the first empty room. She closed the door and pushed you up against it putting her lips on yours in a rough kiss. Parting your lips, she let her tongue lazily roam around the inside of your mouth. 

“mmhm” you moaned into the kiss, before pulling away for air. While you were catching your breath she moved to kissing your neck and sucking a hickey right onto your pulse point making you moan even louder.

”mhm can I take this off baby.” She said while tugging on the fabric of your dress.

”Yes please take me to the bed.” you replied while she tore your dress off and threw you on the mattress.

“No bra baby? I knew you were a slut.” She said while grabbing handfuls of one breast and popping the other into her hot mouth, giving you pleasure that no man has ever made you feel. 

“Please take your clothes off too, natty. I want to see you.” You whined as she pulled back from your breast with a trail of spit before wiping her mouth and standing up. She threw her jacket across the room and stepped out of her pants, making a show of slowly unbuttoning her shirt so you could see her incredibly defined abs. 

You got on your knees and moved towards the end of the bed, impatiently ripping the rest of the shirt off. She laughed while discarding her bra, leaving her in only her boxers.

You reached out to grab her bulge. “ I wonder if it’s as big as all the girls say it is.” You say looking up at her while gently massaging the bulge.

”Only one way to find out I guess.” She said with a smirk gesturing for you to take the boxers off. 

You reached up and pulled the waistband down, eyes widening when her seemingly foot long penis popped out and hit you in the face.

” Wow and it’s thick too.” You giggled while looking up at her and jerking it between your hand spreading the precum along the length.

”Go ahead and see how it tastes.” She said grabbing a handful of your hair to pull your mouth on her dick. “mmhm just like that baby.”

She slowly starts to move her hips, thrusting herself down your throat. She tastes better than any man you’ve ever sucked, most likely a result of her diet and exercise.

”Shit, I can tell you’re a fucking professional, i’m gonna have to keep you for myself.”

You take your mouth off and continue to jerk her off while you look up and nod fervently, hearing exactly what you wanted to hear. 

“I’m real close, are you gonna be a good girl and swallow it or do you want me to punish you?” She said, increasing the intensity behind her thrusts. 

“No please I want it so bad, natty.” You said sucking the life out of her before she released her load down your throat. “very tasty” you said after swallowing it all and wiping your mouth. 

“Oh my god, where did you learn that? Hopefully you won’t be disappointed when I return the favor.” She said pushing you back on the bed, while pulling your panties down your legs.

She hovered over you and kissed you on the lips, before kissing her way down paying special attention to your breasts again. When she finally made it to your cunt she licked a stripe through the wetness, groaning at the taste.

”You are so wet, baby. It tastes so sweet.” She said looking into your eyes with a smile. 

“Please natty, it’s aching so bad.” You begged for her to continue.

”Don’t worry baby. I got you.” She licked her way through your cunt again circling your clit. Latching on, she takes two of her fingers and rubs them through your wetness before inserting them. She furiously sucks your clit into her mouth while curling her fingers, pistoning them into your cunt.

”Damn you are so tight I can’t wait to feel myself inside you.” She said while watching your cunt swallowing her fingers.

”Ugh i’m so close, natty please.” You said ready to let go.

”Go ahead and cum for me then.” She said while furiously rubbing your clit, before you inevitably let go.

A hot gush of liquid squirted out of your cunt hitting Natasha in the face. Smiling, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to catch your arousal.

”Oh that was so hot I got to get you to do that again. I never pegged you as a squirter though.”

”No one has ever made me do that before, but it felt so good.” You said with a goofy grin trying to catch your breath. 

“It was my pleasure, plus you taste delicious.” Natasha said before kissing you on the mouth, sticking her tongue in your mouth so you could taste yourself. 

“I know you’re still hard, I don’t think I need to beg you to fuck me. Do I?” You said pulling back and looking up at her. 

“Such a slut, I'm gonna teach you to watch your mouth.” She said, flipping you over and pulling you into your hands and knees. 

She slaps your ass and spits onto your cunt, before slipping in and bottoming out on the first thrust. 

“I knew you were gonna feel incredible, so fucking tight.” She moans while continuously slapping your ass. Speeding up her thrusts with so much intensity that the bed keeps knocking against the headboard.

”You fuck me so good natty, you’re so big.” You moan with a heavy breath, reaching back to feel her. 

“Are you on the pill? I don’t want to waste my load on your ass. I need to cum inside.” 

“Yes please I am cum inside me.” You begged.

Walking down the hallway of the frat house Wanda was stupidly drunk wanting to find somewhere to relax, because she figured Nat, the unrequited love of her life, had left her. Stumbling into the first room she saw, she slightly cracked open the door and was met with a heartbreaking sight. But she couldn’t help but watch. 

After a while of thrusting, Natasha felt this weird sensation of being watched, so she turned around and caught a glimpse of Wanda peeking through the door. She laughed to herself, not expecting Wanda to be such a perv. 

With a smirk she asked, “Have you ever had a threesome, y/n?”

”Yes I love being used by two people at once.” You said with a moan. 

“Okay. Come on in Wanda, I don’t mind sharing.” She said before hearing the door creak the rest of the way open. 

comment if you want a pt. 2!! 

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl x Reader fluff

prompt: "You can stop hugging me now." | "No, I don't think I can." @creativepromptsforwriting

Summary: Daryl returns from a long trip with something he found, quietly revealing that you’ve been on his mind all along. fluff. drabble.

a/n: just trying to get the writing juices flowing again, been feeling a little bit of a block so thought I'd try this prompt!

The sun hangs low, painting the woods over the fence of the watchtower in warm amber hues. You're peering through your binoculars as Alexandria stretches out behind you, quiet except for the occasional clatter of someone working on the fences. You have one earbud in, listening to your Walkman that's strapped to your hip. The tiny device is temperamental, but it still works, and it’s the one thread tying you to the world before everything fell apart. The music is just low enough that when you adjust your stance, scanning the perimeter again, a distant rumble draws your attention.

You lower the binoculars, squinting against the light until you spot it. The familiar shape of Daryl’s motorcycle cuts through the dusty road leading to the gates. A smile tugs at your lips as you turn to look over the railing down at the gate.

“Sasha,” you say, snagging your earbud out by the wire, “Daryl’s back. Open the gate.”

“Copy that,” she replies, composed and straight faced.

You watch as the gates roll open and Daryl rides in, the low growl of his engine fading as he kills the ignition. He swings off the bike, crossbow slung over his shoulder, and pauses, his eyes lifting to meet yours. Even from this distance, you catch the flicker of something in his gaze—relief, maybe, or something warmer.

“You just gonna stare, or you comin’ down?” he calls, his voice carrying easily in the still evening air.

You smile as you shout down at him, "I'm on duty!"

You watch as he shakes his head and makes his way over. Backpack in hand, he starts climbing the ladder to your perch. By the time he reaches the top, you’re already leaning against the railing, looping your ear buds up to put away. You really hope he can't see how your heart hammers in your ribs when he is near.

There’s something about him that always pulls at you, no matter how much you try to ignore it. Maybe it’s the way he moves, like he’s part of the world but never tethered to it, or the way he notices things without ever calling attention to himself. It’s in the roughness of his voice, the quiet steadiness of his presence, and the flashes of something softer beneath all the grit. You’ve caught yourself watching him more times than you’d like to admit—how his hands move when he works on his bike, the way his brow furrows in thought, the rare curve of his lips when he smirks. And now, with him this close, the familiar tug in your chest feels undeniable.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” he announces when he reaches the top, his voice hoarse from not seeing people for days. He crouches down in front of you, awkwardly pulling something from his bag. A small, rectangular cassette tape catches the light as he holds it out.

Your breath catches when you see the cover. It’s your favorite artist, one you thought you’d never hear again.

“Figured....well, you’re always listenin’ to that thing,” he says, gesturing toward your Walkman. His voice is gruff, but there’s a nervous edge to it, like he’s not sure how you’ll react. “Saw it. Made me...made me think of ya.”

You take it from him, fingers brushing over the cracked plastic of the case, lingering on the edges as if holding it too tightly might make it disappear. Flipping it over, you see the album cover, worn but intact, its familiar image bringing an ache to your chest. Your thoughts stumble, scrambling for something to say, but all you can focus on is the fact that Daryl thought of you. 

He thought of you.

While he was out there, risking his neck for the group, scavenging scraps of the old world, searching for strangers who might one day be allies—he thought of you. The image of him out there, surrounded by danger at every turn, with walkers and worse waiting in the shadows, and still having a moment to think of you, makes your chest tighten. Despite the chaos, the noise, the relentless fight to survive, you were on his mind. Not just as another member of the group, but as someone he cared about enough to bring back this small, fragile piece of comfort.

The thought is overwhelming, pulling the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy with the weight of it. Because in a world where everything is fleeting, Daryl Dixon thought of you.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re moving. Your arms wrap around his neck, catching him off guard. He stiffens, his hands coming up to hover over you, almost unsure if he should touch you. After a heartbeat of not letting go, you feel his voice vibrating in his chest.

“You can stop hugging me now,” he grumbles, though his voice wavers just enough to betray him.

You tighten your grip, pressing your cheek against the warmth of him, breathing in the smell of musk, of pine and leather and cigarettes--so uniquely Daryl, “No,” you whisper, the words soft but sure. “I don’t think I can.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. Then, slowly, his hands settle on the small of your back, tentative but steady. The air between you shifts, quiet and charged, the unspoken things you’re both too afraid to say hanging in the space.

When you finally pull away, his cheeks are tinged pink, and he’s looking anywhere but at you.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you say, holding up the cassette tape like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever owned, "Seriously."

He shrugs, his eyes flickering to yours for just a second before dropping. “Ain’t nothin’.”

But the corner of his mouth quirks up, just a little, as he turns to climb back down the ladder, leaving you with the music, the sunset, and a heart pounding harder than it should.

[realcleverscience]

Thanks for the thoughtful reply. I see things a bit differently. allow me to share what I hope to be a thoughtful reply as well:

In terms of plagiarism, I think there are two different issues at play: firstly, training on data one doesn't own, and secondly, reproducing that data and presenting it as original data.

I agree that these are both issues but I don't think they're of equal concern or frequency. In particular, I see "plagiarism" as representing the second issue more than the first. Reproducing other people's works is not ok. That is plagiarism. That has occasionally happened with AI and must be sorted out. No questions there. However, that represents a fraction of a fraction of results. It is a very small and niche issue which is already being addressed.

That said, the first problem - using unowned data - is more nebulous, legally and ethically speaking. On one hand, AI is doing basically the same thing that humans do, which is learn and imitate from others. On the other hand, AI can do this with a level of detail and speed which humans can't. Then there's also issues with the data. For instance, if google uses youtube to train their AI, they probably have some legal right to that as a result of hosting the video. Whenever people use "free" websites, there are usually "costs" which we agree to. (Is that fair? idk. personally, it's ok with me. I think it's a fair trade.) That said, I also expect legal frameworks to develop which make it easier for people to opt-in or opt-out or get compensation as these systems grow. Lastly, it's not clear to me that it's bad for AI to learn from these sources in general - again, much like how humans do. I only really see a problem when it starts to produce actual plagiarism, as discussed above.

Also, in terms of data, I agree with some of your points. I do want to point out, though, that data isn't a finite resource. Just the opposite. We put more and more data on the web each year. in 2010, it got around 2 zetabytes; in 2015 it was 15 zetabytes, in 2020, 64 zetabytes, in 2024, we're expected to have put online nearly 150 zetabytes. And with the growth of things like smartphones, video apps (youtube, tiktok, etc), augmented reality glasses, autonomous robots, self-driving cars, and people engaging with their AIs - these companies are going to get ever growing amounts of rich data, about the world, environments, movement, conversation, and more.

"And that gets to the part of your closer that I wanted to talk about. With "AI" as it is, we are not going to get to a post-labor world like you want. Replacing artists and writers and other creatives will instead create a post-art world... But in such a world, humans aren't just sitting on their asses doing nothing - a lot of people will be creating, not because they have to, but because they want to. Art should be the last job replaced in the process of creating such a world, but the people in charge are trying to make it the first, because their ideal world is nowhere near in line with yours."

To be clear, I'm not interested in replacing artists more or less than any other profession bc I see all professions as valuable. I want to see *all* jobs get automated as much as is possible to get us all to a post-labor society. And yes, it is my hope and expectation that everyone will pursue their hobbies and interests once we no longer have to work. I also know that there's a lot of public focus on AI-Art since a lot of the semi-decent AI products right now are art generators. however, that's only bc art has more wiggle room in its results. But AI is coming for ALL jobs. And I think that's good.

That said, I agree that the rich see AI as a way to get even richer and not necessarily to benefit society. However, I also think that massive unemployment will steer the country (and all countries) toward post-labor systems, such as increasingly shortened work-weeks, UBI, and other changes. I am concerned about how difficult that transition period will be. But that's largely on us and how we vote. (literally one of the reasons I told people not to vote for trump. he dgaf about anyone.)

AI is not a bad technology. It is a major boon for the world. The fight is with capitalism.

'People are panicking about AI tools the same way they did when the calculator was invented, stop worrying' cannot stress enough the calculator did not forcibly pervade every aspect of our lives, has such a low error rate it's a statistical anomaly when it does happen, isn't built on mass plagiarism, and does not obliterate the fucking environment when you use it. Be so fucking serious right now

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　MIGRAINE

spencer reid x reader

SUMMARY: Spencer has suffered from headaches since his teenage years, but nothing like the one he's experiencing now. When a bad migraine decides to hit him during his work time, Y/N is right there to help him, just like she promised she always would.

WARNING: Somewhere between ep 11 and 12 from season 6 | Migraine, pain, throwing up, Spencer being "babied" and taken care of (just like it should've happened when he had his migraines).

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The first time Spencer Reid experienced a migraine, he was sixteen years old. At the time, he had chalked it up to stress. It wasn’t unusual for him to push his mind and body to the limit; classes by day, independent studies by night, and taking care of his mom full-time.

But, like most things in his life, Spencer adapted. He found ways to manage the episodes, learning which triggers to avoid. Over time, the migraines became something he lived with. He rarely talked about them; they felt too personal, too vulnerable. And vulnerability wasn’t something he had been taught to show, not in childhood and certainly not in his line of work now.

Since joining the FBI, the migraines have remained manageable. Sure, the stress of chasing unsubs and staring at evidence under glaring lights could sometimes bring on a headache, but they were rare enough that he didn’t worry. Until today.

The pain started as a faint pressure, a dull throb behind his eyes as soon as he woke this morning with a call from Hotch, Y/N's warm body against his own doing nothing to ease it, but he had dismissed it, thinking it was just lack of sleep since they've just got back from a case in New Mexico.

Y/N's eyes were sure to catch it all, how his shoulders were more hunched, his steps just a touch slower, and the faint crease between his brows that seemed to just stay there. She knew his body language like the back of her hand; something was off.

But Y/N didn’t hover or prod. She knew Spencer’s rhythm, his boundaries, and she knew that he didn’t need her hovering or asking every ten minutes if he was okay - he hated that. She trusted Spencer to come to her if it became too much.

Instead, she slid a small glass of water and Spencer's usual medication across the counter to him, pairing it with a piece of toast slathered in butter and his first cup of coffee.

She didn’t say a word about it, only kissed his cheek softly as she leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper as she murmured "I love you", her lips lingering for a moment.

And Spencer was sure that her kiss would magically make him feel better in no time - silly him. By the time they arrived at the BAU, the ache had deepened, expanding until it felt as though his entire skull was caught in a strong fist.

Now, in the middle of the afternoon, sitting at his desk, Spencer struggled to focus. His temples throbbed in time with his heartbeat, sending jolts of pain that spread down his neck and shoulders.

A sharp sensation had settled behind his left eye, making it impossible to fully open without a stabbing pain shooting through his head. He pressed his fingers to the sides of his head, attempting to massage away the discomfort, but it was futile.

A tingling sensation kept creeping along his arms, the nerves in his fingertips hypersensitive to the touch of his pen. Even the faint friction of his clothing against his skin felt unbearable, leaving him breathless. His limbs kept moving around in his chair, trying to find a position that didn’t make his muscles feel like they were ready to snap.

Across the bullpen, Morgan leaned casually against the edge of his own desk, glancing momentarily at Spencer while talking with Ashley, a teasing smirk growing on his face as he noticed the younger's pace while flipping pages - it wasn't slow, but surely slower than 'Spencer's normal'.

"Looks like someone’s slower than usual today." Morgan called, his tone lighthearted as he hoped to pull Spencer into their usual playful demeanor.

But Spencer didn’t respond - which wasn't news when the genius was concentrated, squinting his eyes at the too bright lights above him, sending harsh glares on his desk that seemed to burn straight into his brain.

He tried to look up in a tentative of looking at Derek, but as soon as his eyes moved, his vision sparked with white flashes that momentarily blinded him, not noticing how Morgan's smirk faltered as he exchanged a concerned glance with Y/N across the room, who had been shooting Spencer glances for quite some time now.

Frustration started to bubble inside Spencer as the pages of the case file in front of him seemed to blurry even more when he moved his eyes back to it, the letters swimming across the paper as if they were mocking his attempts to work.

The sounds around him only seemed to make things worse. Across the bullpen, Prentiss's deep voice rose in conversation with JJ, sharp and too loud for his own taste. The gentle tapping of Ashley's keyboard sounded like a woodpecker drilling into his ears. The steady rustling of paper, the faint squeak of wheels on rolling chairs, even the scratch of Y/N’s pen on paper, it all seemed to close around him, leaving him struggling to breathe. He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together in an effort to keep himself from snapping.

But the worst part was the impossibility of concentrating - Spencer’s mind was usually his greatest ally, a place where he could retreat and find order even in chaos.

He stared at the case file in front of him, the report on Andrew Jacobs, a killer who had brutally murdered several women, including his own wife. Spencer knew the details of the case intimately, had memorized every little thing, every piece of evidence. But now, as he tried to write his report, the words wouldn’t come.

His pen hovered over the page, trembling slightly in his hand as the muscles in his fingers twitched. He pressed the tip of the pen to the paper, determined to start, but his mind was blank. No, worse than blank, it was fractured.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to write a sentence.

Andrew Jacobs exhibited narcissistic tendencies, as evidenced by-

The thought dissolved as another burst of pain shattered his focus. The rest of the sentence was lost, replaced by another white flash. His hand tightened around the pen, and he nearly snapped it in half as he exhaled a shaky breath.

He tried again.

Jacobs selected victims that resembled-

The throb in his temples flared, and he dropped the pen, his hand too weak to hold it.

He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, desperate to shut out the light, the noise, the overwhelming sensations. He hunched over his desk, his breathing shallow and labored, trying to ride it out without drawing attention to himself - well, more.

Maybe caffeine would help. It had worked before, maybe inconsistently. But it was better than nothing.

Pushing back his chair, Spencer stood, determined to exterminate his pain. But the pace in which he did it sent a wave of vertigo crashing over him, the room tilting precariously to one side.

His vision narrowed as he stumbled, his hand reaching out to steady himself against the edge of the desk, but his fingers missed the mark. His foot caught on the leg of his chair, and he tripped forward, nearly knocking over a stack of case files in the process.

Lucky him.

"Spence!" Y/N’s voice cut through the cloud of his disorientation, filled with concern.

Before he could even process what was happening, her hands were on him, one steadying him by his biceps, the other catching the stack of papers before they could scatter across the bullpen.

Spencer forced a quick, shaky smile, hoping it would be enough to stop her worry.

"Sorry." He said, his voice as steady as possible. The effort to sound okay only made the pounding in his head worse, and he winced slightly as he tucked a very short lock of hair behind his ear - still used to having it longer. "I'm okay. I just tripped."

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she studied him. Her hand lingered on his arm, her grip gentle but firm, as if she was afraid he might fall again.

"Spence, are you sure? You don’t look-"

"I’m fine!" Spencer cut her off, his voice a touch too loud, earning a questioning glance from Prentiss across the room. He cleared his throat, softening his tone. "I just need a refill." He added, holding up his empty coffee mug as if it were some sort of shield. "Do you need one? I can get you it if you want!"

He didn’t give her a chance to respond before stepping out of her grasp and making a beeline for the coffee station. He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t turn back.

Reaching the coffee maker, Spencer set his mug down with trembling hands, the slight clink of ceramic against metal sounding impossibly loud to his hypersensitive ears. He focused on the simple motions of pouring the coffee, hoping the familiarity of the task would anchor him.

The smell of the freshly brewed coffee hit him, and his stomach churned in response. He swallowed hard against the wave of nausea but pressed on, filling the mug to the brim.

The first sip burned his tongue, but he didn’t care. He gulped it down, the heat spreading through his chest like liquid desperation. Maybe the caffeine would kick in quickly, stopping the edges of the pain enough for him to concentrate.

But as he drained the mug, the room began to spin again. A nauseating dizziness wrapped itself around him, pulling his vision into darkness for a moment too long. He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as he fought to stay up.

His stomach churned violently now, and his head felt like it was splitting apart. His legs wobbled beneath him, threatening to give way, and he knew he couldn’t keep standing. He needed to sit down. Now.

Spencer scanned the room for the nearest chair. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as he half-stumbled toward the breakroom table, collapsing into a chair before his legs could betray him entirely. He set the empty coffee mug down on the table with shaking hands - almost missing it - and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands.

The sound of Spencer’s body collapsing against the chair reverberated through the bullpen like a thunderclap. Heads turned instinctively toward the breakroom, curiosity quickly giving way to concern when the sound was followed by a groan. A deep, guttural groan of pain that struck Y/N.

She knew that sound.

Her head snapped up, her pen clattering onto her desk, and in an instant, she was on her feet, moving toward it with determination.

"Y/N?" JJ's voice called after her, tinged with confusion, but she ignored her.

As she entered the room, the sight before her made her heart squeeze. Spencer was slumped in one of the chairs, his body hunched forward, his arms clutching his stomach. His hair was a mess, sticking to his damp forehead, and his shirt was rumpled, the fabric pulled and creased as if he’d been tugging at it in desperation to rid himself of the sensation of it against his clammy skin. Sweat dripped from his temples, his face pale and drawn, his eyes half-closed as though the effort of keeping them open was too much.

"Spence?" She whispered, her voice steady despite the panic rising in her chest.

She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering uncertainly near his, afraid to make things worse but desperate to comfort him.

"Hey, what’s wrong? What are you feeling?" She asked, her tone filled with concern. Her eyes scanned his face, searching for any clue, but the only response she received was a low, pitiful whimper.

The sound broke her heart.

Before she could press him further, Spencer’s body stiffened, his face contorting as a sudden wave of nausea overtook him. His stomach grumbled violently, and he gagged, a sharp, involuntary sound that echoed through the room.

"Oh my-!" Y/N gasped, realizing what was happening just as he tried to stand, his weak limbs shaking under his own weight.

He only managed to rise an inch before his knees buckled, sending him crashing back into the chair. His hand flew to his mouth as another gag wracked his body, his face twisting with misery. The effort to move had only made things worse.

Y/N acted on instinct, her heart pounding as she spotted the small trash bin tucked beneath the desk behind him. She grabbed it quickly, her movements fast, and positioned it under him just in time.

Spencer bent forward, his body heaving as he retched violently into the bin. His stomach emptied itself in painful spasms, each cough leaving him weaker. One of Y/N's hands cradled his shoulder to keep him from falling to the ground, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"It’s okay, sweetheart." She murmured softly. "I’m right here. Just let it all out. You’re going to be okay."

Her fingers traveled from his back to the back of his head, intertwining through his damp hair, tucking the short strands behind his ears as she continued to whisper reassurances. The sound of her voice was low and soft, grounding him.

Outside the breakroom, Morgan and Prentiss had gathered by the coffee station near the door, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm as the muffled sounds of gagging reached their ears. Morgan had been the first to step forward, concern taking over his face, but Emily stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Give them a second." She said quietly.

Inside, Spencer’s nausea began to ease, though his body still trembled, probably because of exhaustion. Y/N kept knelt by his side, her hands never once leaving him, wiping the sweat off of his forehead.

When he finally stopped, Spencer sagged against the chair, his face pale as a ghost, and his breathing shallow and uneven. Y/N quickly took off her jacket, gently wiping his mouth and chin before brushing the hair from his face again, creating a mental note to throw her clothing inside her washing machine as soon as they got home.

"Y/N, you don’t have to do this-" Spencer started, his voice weak but laced with sincerity as he tried to lift his head and meet her gaze, trying to push her jacket away with his hand.

Y/N didn’t let him finish, shaking her head.

"You make it seem like taking care of you is hard work." She cut him off with a soft smile, her free hand slipping over his lifted one, her thumb rubbing gentle circles into his knuckles, lowering them.

Spencer's eyes darted away, his cheeks coloring faintly in embarrassment. He hated that she was seeing him like that - so sick and so not him.

"But taking care of you." She continued, her other hand coming to rest on his thigh, warm and grounding. "Is the easiest thing in the world."

Spencer hummed softly in response, the sound noncommittal but tinged with gratitude.

"Now." She said, her eyes searching his as she lowered her head to his high, searching for his eyes. "What’s going on?"

Spencer shook his head weakly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He was too drained and too overwhelmed to explain the relentless storm of pain that had consumed him in such a small period of time.

Y/N exhaled softly, her worry deepening as she took in his refusal to answer. She glanced over her shoulder, debating whether to call for Hotch or JJ.

"Okay." She said gently, leaning closer so he could hear her. "You don’t have to talk right now. Just breathe. I’m here."

The smell of vomit began to permeate the room, clinging to the air in a way that would have turned most stomachs. But Y/N didn’t flinch. She’d seen and smelled worse in her years with the BAU. Compared to that, a little puke was nothing.

"My head..." Spencer’s voice cracked as he whimpered several minutes later of silence, his words barely audible as his hands flew to his face, fingers pressing harshly against his eyes.

Y/N’s heart clenched, and she instinctively reached for his wrists, her hands gently tugging his away from his head. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and glassy, pain etched into every line of his expression.

"Oh, honey." She cooed softly, brushing the strands of hair from his forehead. "It’s your migraine again, isn’t it?"

A faint, almost imperceptible nod was all he managed.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" She asked, her voice gentle. "You should’ve said something before we even left your apartment this morning."

He shook his head weakly, as if the mere thought of explaining himself was too much effort.

Y/N sighed, her fingers brushing over his temple in a soothing motion.

"Alright." She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We’re going home, okay?" She paused for a beat, watching him closely. "Can you stand?"

Spencer didn’t respond right away. He stayed hunched over, breathing unevenly, his shoulders trembling slightly as if he was waiting for his body to answer for himself. Finally, after a long moment, he whispered.

"I don't think I can. I’m dizzy... really dizzy."

Y/N’s expression softened even further.

"That’s okay." She assured gently, her hand rubbing slow, comforting circles across his back. "There’s no rush, Spence. We’ll wait until you feel ready, alright?"

He didn’t answer, but the slight relaxation of his posture told her he’d heard. She stayed by his side, her fingers trailing up to his shoulders, massaging the tension she could feel knotted beneath his crumpled shirt.

"I’m going to grab some water for you, okay?" After a moment, she whispered. "Just something to rinse your mouth and maybe settle your stomach." She began to shift, preparing to stand, but the soft wince that escaped Spencer stopped her in her tracks.

He reached out, his hand trembling as it found her arm, his grip gentle but insistent. His big puppy eyes met hers with a silent plea.

"Can you stay?" He asked lowly, his fingers loosening slightly but not letting go. "I don't need water."

He actually needed it, but it could wait. He preferred her by his side.

"Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere." She assured him, nodding. "I’m right here."

She settled back into her position beside him, her arm draped protectively over his shoulder. They stayed like that for several minutes, Y/N murmuring soft reassurances while Spencer focused on taking slow, measured breaths.

Eventually, he shifted slightly, his posture straightening just enough to signal he was ready.

"I think... I can stand now." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, throwing her jacket over her shoulder before her hands moved to support him as she stood, then gently helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, heavily leaning against her, his weight a little awkward against her frame, but she didn’t mind.

"Easy." She murmured, her voice calm. "One step at a time. I’ve got you."

With painstaking care, she guided him out of the breakroom, her focus entirely on him. Their teammates noticed them, their concerned gazes following, but Y/N didn’t pause to explain.

She led Spencer to the bathroom, not caring to turn on the lights, knowing that it would just make his situation worse. She eased him down onto the small bench near the sinks, watching as he sank into the seat with a groan, his head drooping forward again as though even holding it upright was too much.

"Hang tight." Y/N said softly, brushing her hand over his shoulder before turning toward the sink.

She turned on the faucet, letting the water run cold, and dampened a handful of paper towels. Returning to Spencer, she knelt in front of him and gently pressed the cool towels to his face and neck. He sighed faintly at the momentary relief, his body relaxing slightly under her care.

"There we go." She whispered, dabbing away the sweat on his brow and cheeks. "Just a little longer, alright?"

She smoothed down the rumpled fabric of his shirt, adjusting it to make him more comfortable, and ran her fingers through his hair, untangling the damp strands.

"You’re doing so well, honey." She murmured, her voice gentle. "We’ll get you feeling better soon, I promise.

Spencer blinked at her, his pain-clouded eyes filled with love. He didn’t have the will to speak, but the way he leaned into her touch said everything he couldn’t.

Y/N smiled softly, her thumb brushing lightly over his eyebrows before standing again.

"Come on." She said, offering her hands. "Let’s get you out of here."

Spencer took a deep breath, summoning what little strength he had left, and let her guide him to his feet. Y/N steadied Spencer as they exited the bathroom, her hand firmly wrapped around his right arm - it would be barely 20 steps to the elevators. She could handle that. She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but commanding.

"Spence, close your eyes for me, okay? The lights out there are only going to make it worse. I’ll guide you, I promise."

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then nodded weakly and let his eyes flutter shut. Y/N adjusted her hold on him, now wrapping his waist, taking most of his weight as they slowly started their journey through the small path to the exit doors.

The hum of conversation in the office dimmed as curious eyes turned toward them. Y/N’s jaw tightened, her sharp gaze sweeping the room, sending a hard glare to anyone who dared look too long or seemed close to say something, as if to warn don’t even think about it.

Her eyes found Morgan when they crossed the glass doors, who was watching them, his expression full of concern. He tilted his head slightly, silently asking if she needed help. She gave him a curt nod, Spencer's body against hers starting to make her legs feel tired.

Morgan moved swiftly, stepping ahead to press the elevator button, ensuring the doors would be ready for them. Then, without hesitation, he came to Spencer’s other side.

"Let me take him." Morgan said gently, sliding his arm around Spencer’s shoulders to ease the weight off Y/N.

Spencer stiffened for a moment at the unfamiliar touch, but as Morgan steadied him, a flicker of recognition crossed his face. He relaxed slightly, leaning into Morgan’s strength, though his grip on Y/N’s hand remained loose, as if afraid to let her go entirely.

Morgan gave him a reassuring smile.

"Hey, pretty boy." He said lightly, his tone warm and familiar. "How are you feeling down there?"

Spencer’s lips twitched faintly, a weak attempt at humor breaking through the haze of pain.

"Not so pretty right now." He murmured, his voice hoarse and strained.

Morgan chuckled softly, his hand giving Spencer’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Nah, you’re still prettier than most of us, even like this."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile at Morgan’s effort to keep the mood light. She adjusted her pace to match theirs as they finally reached the elevator. Morgan shifted slightly, ensuring Spencer stayed upright while Y/N pressed the button for the parking level - he really looked like he was about to pass out, and none of them wanted that.

The elevator ride was quiet save for Spencer’s shallow breaths and the occasional comforting words from Morgan. Y/N kept her hand on Spencer’s one, her fingers tracing calming circles above his skin.

Morgan’s grip was steady as he guided Spencer to the car after they reached the garage, Y/N walking ahead to open the passenger door.

"Alright, pretty boy, here we go." Morgan said softly, helping Spencer lower himself into the seat. Spencer groaned faintly as he settled in, head resting against the headrest.

Morgan straightened, closing the door carefully before turning to Y/N, who stood nearby with her keys clutched tightly in her hand.

"You good, Y/L/N? You sure you got this? I can follow you, help get him settled if you want."

Y/N shook her head.

"I’ve got it. Thank you, though. He’ll be okay. He just needs some rest and quiet." She offered Morgan a small but grateful smile. "Can you let Hotch know that we had to go earlier? I'm gonna text him later to explain it all better, but I know he will be worried."

Morgan studied her for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, you got it. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will." Y/N replied.

Morgan gave her upper arm a gentle squeeze before stepping back, waiting until she climbed into the driver’s seat before heading back inside.

Once the door was closed, Y/N glanced over at Spencer. His breathing had already evened out, his face slack with sleep. A twinge of sadness pulled at her chest, wishing she could take all his pain away. She reached out gently, brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.

"You’ll feel better soon, baby." She whispered softly.

With the car in motion, Y/N quickly decided that taking him to her apartment would be the best option. Spencer’s place, though obviously comfortable, required climbing a flight of stairs, and there was no way she was going to risk him - or herself - having to deal with that. Her building had an elevator, and she knew he’d be just as safe there.

The drive was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine. Spencer didn’t stir, his head tilted slightly against the cool window as the motion of the car lulled him deeper into sleep. Y/N drove carefully, taking turns gently and avoiding any sharp stops, all the while stealing occasional glances at him to ensure he was okay.

When she finally pulled into her building’s parking garage, she cut the engine and let out a breath. Turning to Spencer, she hesitated for a moment before reaching over and resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey." She said softly, giving him a gentle shake. "Hey, we’re here. I need you to wake up for me, okay?"

Spencer let out a quiet groan, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly began to rouse. He squinted, grimacing as if the mere act of opening his eyes was too much.

"I know, I know." Y/N cooed softly, her voice full of understanding. "I'm sorry, baby. Just a little further, and you can sleep again. Come on, I’ve got you."

With sluggish movements, Spencer let Y/N unbuckle his seatbelt and help him out of the car, cringing slightly at how useless he felt and looked right now. His legs were unsteady, and she quickly wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him toward the building’s entrance.

By the time they reached her apartment door, the sound of clicking nails on the floor echoed as Snow, her fluffy little Shih Tzu, padded over excitedly to greet them.

"Hey, Snow." Y/N whispered softly, nudging the dog back with her leg as Spencer swayed slightly beside her. "Not now, sweetie. Go lie down."

Snow, almost sensing the mood, tilted his head, nudging lovingly at Spencer's leg before trotting off to his bed in the corner of the living room.

"Alright, Spence. Let’s get you to bed, too." She guided him carefully into her bedroom.

Her free hand swiftly clicks her bedside lamp on, the soft glow of it casting warm light across the room.

Helping him sit on the edge of the bed, Y/N crouched down, quickly unlacing his Converse and slipping them off one at a time. Next, she loosened his tie and removed it, setting it gently on her dresser.

"Let’s get this off too, okay?" She murmured as she unbuttoned his crumpled white shirt.

Spencer didn’t resist, his limbs too uncoordinated to help her, only moving them to press his palms hard against his eyeballs again, but his action was quickly - and gently - stopped by Y/N.

Once the shirt was off, leaving him in just his pants and mismatched socks, she eased him back against the pillows, ignoring her mind telling her that he would be mad for 'going to bed in outside clothes, do you know how many germs there is in this?'

Spencer sighed softly as he sank into the mattress, the lines of tension in his face easing just a little. Y/N adjusted the blankets, pulling them up to his waist to keep him warm before brushing her fingers softly through his hair, tucking the messy strands away from his face.

"There we go." She whispered to herself, her voice as soft as the dim light of the room.

Satisfied that he was settled, she straightened up and turned toward the door, ready to let him get the rest he desperately needed. But just as she took her first step, she felt a gentle tug on her wrist. The touch was weak, barely there, but enough to stop her.

Turning back, she saw Spencer’s hand wrapped loosely around her wrist, his long fingers barely curled. His eyes were still shut, but his brows were drawn together, his lips parting as he whispered, voice hoarse and fragile.

"Can you... stay here? Just for a little more."

Y/N immediately sat in the mattress, by his hips side, her heart skipping a beat with his tone of voice.

"Of course, honey." She murmured, brushing the top of his fingers softly with her thumb. "I’m not going anywhere. I promise."

Spencer let out a shaky breath. His grip on her wrist didn’t tighten. If anything, it was soft and almost reverent, like he was afraid to hold on too hard.

"Sorry." He murmured, his voice cracking, so quiet she almost missed it. "I’m... sorry for all of this. For making you deal with this."

The apology was so honest but so unnecessary that it sent a pang straight through Y/N’s chest. She leaned closer, resting her free hand gently on his cheek, her thumb tracing along his jaw.

"Spencer." She whispered, her tone firm but warm. "Don’t be stupid." She smiled faintly, noticing how his right eyebrow moved slightly up, the way it always did when he was feeling confused. "You’ve done this for me so many times. How many nights have you sat with me when I wasn’t feeling my best? How many times have you made me tea, or read to me until I fell asleep, or stayed up just to make sure I was okay? You never complained. Not once."

Spencer’s lips pressed into the faintest semblance of a smile, barely there but still enough to make Y/N’s heart squeeze. His hand slipped from her wrist to her own hand, his fingers curling around hers, warm despite the cool sweat still lingering on his skin.

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice raw, like it was taking everything in him to get the words out. And maybe it was. Being transparent with his feelings was the hardest thing for Spencer - something he was trying to change since putting his eyes on Y/N for the very first time.

Y/N leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment as if to let him feel every bit of affection she carried for him.

"You don’t have to thank me." She murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. "This is what love is, Spence. I’m here because I want to be here. Because I care about you."

Spencer’s grip on her hand stayed soft as his features relaxed again, the tension melting away. But just as she began to pull back, her tone shifted, still gentle but also firm.

"In the morning, we’re going to the doctor, okay?" She said softly, her tone sounding rhetorical, as if not waiting to hear his opinion.

Spencer’s brows knitted together, his lips parting in protest, but he didn’t immediately respond.

"Spence." She continued. "I know you’ve dealt with migraines since you were younger, but this? This wasn’t normal. It came out of nowhere, and it hit you so hard. You have to have it checked out."

Finally, he spoke, his voice cracking.

"But... what if... what if it’s not just migraines?" His voice wavered, and he squeezed her hand tighter. "What if it’s... what if it’s something worse? What if it’s like my mom?" His voice broke on the last word, and he swallowed hard, his breathing shaky. "I can’t... I can’t risk that. I can’t risk knowing that now. I can’t risk losing you because of it."

Before Y/N, Spencer had been trying to do every test and clinical exam that would show him how close to schizophrenia or Alzheimer's he could be - his college years had been full of them - but now he did his best to stay away from it. He just couldn't risk it.

Y/N’s face fell at his words, and the fear evident in his expression. She cupped his face gently, forcing him to look at her, even if his eyes fluttered open for only a moment.

"Spence." She said, her voice thick with emotion but steady. "You’re not going to lose me. Ever. Do you hear me? Whatever happens, I’ll be right here. I’ll be with you every step of the way. You’re not alone in this."

He closed his eyes again, his features crumpling as he absorbed her words. He wanted to believe - he needed to - but the example he had from his father had been everything but perfect.

"Don't keep worrying your head with this. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? Right now, I need you to rest. Just rest."

"I love you." He murmured, his voice softening. "So much."

Y/N let out a shaky breath.

"I love you more." She whispered back, smiling softly, brushing her fingers through his hair one last time before pulling back. "Get some sleep." She said gently.

This time, he didn’t protest as she stood and stepped toward the door. Quietly, she slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging slightly as the tension of the day began to melt away. Snow trotted up to her, tail wagging gently as if offering quiet support.

"Alright, boy." Y/N murmured, scratching Snow behind the ears. "Let’s get this place in order and make something to eat for later, huh?"

[im-so-normal-iswear]

HALLO! :D i saw that requests were open so i figured i'd try my hand with one! (If it's still okay w/ you ofc!)

I wanted to request a lil mini scenario with triple s & a gn! reader, where the two end up being under attack on a mission and reader takes a hit for him, but frets over him and asks if he's okay as if they aren't the one who's bloody/bruised from the attack

Hoping for a lil angst, but also a good ending! Thanks for your time! 😋

A/n: couldnt think of a title for this lol

Sonic:

The air was tense as you and Sonic sprint through the field. Chaos erupted around you, explosions lighting up the horizon. Despite everything, Sonic is as confident as ever, his cocky smirk flashing even under pressure.

"Stick close, got it?" he calls back to you, his voice full of determination.

You nod, staying close to his side as enemies close in. Everything happens too quickly. An attack is launched, a projectile racing toward him, and without thinking, you dive in front of him.

The impact sends you sprawling to the ground, pain shooting through your side. Blood stains your clothes, but your focus isn't on yourself.

"Sonic!" you cry out, scrambling to your feet despite the pain. You reach for him, panic filling your chest. "Are you okay? Did you get hit?"

Sonic is frozen for a moment, his usual bravado wiped away as his gaze locks on your injury. "Y-You're the one bleeding, not me!" He kneels beside you, his hands hovering awkwardly as if afraid to hurt you more.

"I'm fine!" you insist, brushing his concern away. "Are you hurt? You looked like-"

"You're not fine!" he snaps, his voice breaking slightly. "Why would you do something so reckless?!" His usual speed is nothing compared to how quickly he scoops you up, holding you as gently as possible.

"It's no big deal," you mumble, your vision blurring slightly.

"It’s a huge deal," Sonic mutters, guilt heavy in his voice. "I... I should’ve been faster. Don’t scare me like that again, okay?"

He rushes you to safety, refusing to let go until Tails patches you up, his usual confidence replaced by an uneasy tension, even after the mission ends.

Shadow:

The mission had gone sideways faster than either of you expected. You and Shadow were surrounded, energy blasts raining down from all directions. Shadow barked orders, his voice steady and commanding.

"Stay behind me," he muttered, moving in to take the brunt of the attacks.

But when a deadly shot targets him from behind, you don't hesitate. You throw yourself in its path, gritting your teeth as the attack strikes you.

Shadow turns just in time to see you fall to your knees, your face twisted in pain.

"Idiot!" he snaps, rushing to your side. He kneels, his gloved hands gripping your shoulders as he inspects the damage. "What were you thinking?"

"Are you okay?" you ask breathlessly, ignoring his anger as you reach for him. "You're not hurt, right?"

His eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. "You’re bleeding, and you’re asking if I’m okay?"

You offer a smile, trying to downplay the situation. "I couldn’t let you get hurt. You’re more important."

For a moment, Shadow doesn’t say anything, his expression unreadable. Then, with surprising gentleness, he pulls you against him, his arms encircling you protectively.

"You’re reckless, and an absolute idiot." he mutters. "But... thank you."

He carries you to safety without another word, his movements careful, his gaze lingering on you. Later, as you recover, he stays close.

Silver:

You and Silver are deep in enemy territory, fighting side by side. His telekinetic powers are keeping most threats at bay, but it’s clear he’s straining to maintain control.

"Watch out!" he shouts as an attack heads your way.

You don’tSilver, you just act. You shove him aside, the blast hitting you squarely in the chest. The pain is immediate, sharp and searing, but you manage to stay on your feet.

"Are you okay?" you ask, your voice trembling as you turn to him.

Silver’s eyes are wide with horror as he sees the blood staining your outfit. "Am I okay? You just- why would you do that?!" His voice cracks as he grabs your shoulders, his hands shaking.

"You could’ve gotten hurt," you say simply. "I couldn’t let that happen."

Tears well up in his eyes, his expression a mix of guilt and frustration. "But now you’re hurt because of me! I was supposed to protect you!"

"You did your best," you reassure him, your voice soft despite the pain.

Silver shakes his head, his grip tightening. "It’s not enough. You’re too important to me."

His powers flare as he gently lifts you with his telekinesis, cradling you in an invisible embrace. He carries you to safety, murmuring apologies and promises to never let you get hurt again. Afterward, he rarely lets you out of his sight, more determined than ever.

[enhaniki-san]

part-timers!niki x reader part ll ⋆˙⟡

warning: smut

read part one here

the store was quiet the next day, you tried so hard to focus on your task but for some reason, you're annoyed and not carefully aligning the packages.

then a minute later, you're smiling so hard, biting your lips thinking about the little text conversation between you and niki.

niki crouched beside you, organizing the lower shelves where you just threw different items in one row. his right brow raised. "what’s up with you today?"

you looked at him, startled. "what do you mean?"

"i don't know like, what's this?” he said. pointing at the shelf while looking directly at you.

you felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment. "sorry, i just remembered something." you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

niki raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips knowing you're distracted. "uh-huh.”

you both continued restocking and niki broke the silence again. "so… about last night."

your hands froze mid-motion, your breath hitching. "yeah..."

he tilted his head, studying you closely.

"about that... i'm confused" you stammered, your voice going quiet as you continued talking, pouring your heart out but he's not even paying attention. "...and you know, i don't even get what you're saying."

niki glanced over his shoulder, carefully double-checking the surroundings. ensuring no one else was nearby.

"you don't?" he asked.

he locked eyes with you for too long. you didn't even have to say anything. niki leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sudden kiss.

it was quick, his arms brushing lightly against yours as he leaned closer. your mind going blank, feeling the warmth of his lips.

and when niki pulled back, his eyes remained on you. "what about now?" he asked with a serious look in his face.

you couldn’t help but smile shyly, your heart fluttering as butterflies swirled in your stomach.

niki grinned, leaning in to give you another soft kiss. "still confused?"

you slapped his arms gently. "maybe one more." he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. totally liking the flushed expression you gave as he pressed another quick peck to your lips, then another, and another.

each kisses are light and playful, like he was trying to draw out your reactions.

you were giggling and all giddy, covering your face with your hands so he can stop.

he pulled your hands away from your face gently. "i like it when you smile like that."

your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in one last time, this kiss softer than the rest, his lips stayed just long enough to make you catch your breath after he pulled back.

and before you could gather your thoughts, one of your coworkers peeked in. "hey, you guys, a customer needs help up front."

niki stood up, looking at you for a moment before turning to leave. "i'll handle it." he said with a small smile as he patted your head gently.

later, you tried to make yourself busy but your hands were trembling slightly, smiling like an idiot whenever you remember what happened earlier.

you glanced at the clock above the register, only ten minutes left until the shift ended. you watched niki as he started to tidy up his area, preparing to leave.

you stood up, realizing it's now or never. "niki?" you asked. "do you... do you want to come over? you know, after work?"

he paused, his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise before a slow smile spread across his face. "you're inviting me over?"

you nodded. "yeah… i mean, if you want to. no pressure or anything."

he leaned back on his heels, his smile turning into a smirk. "you're cute when you’re nervous."

you glared at him.

he chuckled. standing up while brushing off his pants. "yeah, i’ll come over."

"cool." you said softly, trying to play it off even though your stomach was doing flips.

your heart raced every time niki walks by. you tried not to make it obvious how much you were thinking about him and the fact that he agreed to come over.

and when the clock finally hit the end of your shift, you grabbed your things and waited outside the store. the cool evening air felt refreshing against your warm cheeks as you glanced around, your nerves starting to creep in.

"you ready?" niki's voice came from behind you.

you turned to see him. his hair was slightly messy and the soft streetlights cast a golden glow on his face.

"yeah." you said, trying to sound calm. "let's go."

niki walked close beside you and his arm occasionally brushing against yours, making you look and smile at him each time it happens.

"come on in." you said, stepping aside to let him enter.

niki stepped inside, his eyes scanning your space. "this is nice."

"thanks." you replied, closing the door behind him. but you know damn well that if your place is nice, his' might be nicer. "want something to drink?" you offered, heading to the kitchen.

"sure." he said, following you closely. "i'll have whatever you’re having."

you grabbed two glasses of juice, handing him one before sitting on the couch. niki joined, settling in beside you. the space between you felt far too small, his knee brushing yours as he leaned back casually.

"so..." he started, tilting his head at you, "you were pretty distracted at work today. want to tell me why?"

you sighed. he knew damn well why...

"hey, i wasn't that distracted."

he grinned. "right like throwing stuff onto shelves like you don’t care is totally normal for you."

"okay, fine." you admitted, biting your lip. "i was."

niki shifted closer, his arm now resting along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder. "was it because of me?"

you inhaled deeply. his stare made you feel hot. you fanned yourself. "maybe." you finally admitted, avoiding his eyes.

"maybe?" he repeated, his voice teasing and dripping with suggestion. "you're going to have to do better than that."

you turned to him, your cheeks flushing. "fine, then. yes."

niki smiled, his hand sliding along the back of the couch until his fingers grazed your neck. "good." he mouthed. "because i’ve been thinking about you too."

your eyes widened slightly at his confession. niki leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours.

then after he pulled back, his lips twitched into a smirk and the back of his fingers caressed your cheeks.

you felt confident. you didn't know why but you suddenly felt the urge to admit everything. now that he's here and everything, telling you he's been thinking about you too, you just might push forward.

"can i say something? but tell me right away if you're uncomfortable" you blurted out suddenly. "please?"

niki tilted his head, his dark eyes fixed on you. unsure but he wants to hear it "okay... go ahead" he said, curious.

you hesitated, biting your lip, unsure if you should even say it. but you want him and holding back seems impossible now. "i'm thinking about you last night, right?" you admitted, your voice shaking slightly.

his brows raised, expression changing to a genuine intrigued look.

you shifted nervously, your cheeks burning as you forced yourself to continue. "i mean… i was really thinking about you. and i..." you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "i touched myself."

your words hung in the air. for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing.

niki blinked, his expression blank at first. "what?" he asked. you heard his voice full of disbelief and confusion.

you squeezed your eyes shut. "i'm so sorry, sorry for doing something so weird." you apologized, clenching your hands in your lap. the silence stretched and you finally risked glancing at him. niki's lips slightly parted

"that’s…" niki swallowed hard. his adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to find the right words.

niki leaned in closer, his fingers brushing against your thighs. "do you think you could… do it again?" he asked, his voice soft but loaded with intent.

your eyes slightly widened, your body felt weird with heat at the implication. "w-what?" you stuttered.

niki's face looked serious, "do it again." he repeated, placing a kiss to your cheeks while his hand softly gripping your thighs. "in front of me."

you're trying to process his words while on the other hand, niki's body responded instinctively but kept his expression neutral, maintaining his cool composure as he waited for you to make the next move.

your mind racing as his words sank in. the idea sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of nervousness and undeniable excitement coursing through you.

"i want to see you." he whispered, then kissed you softly on your neck.

you watched niki crawl in front of you, carefully removing your jeans.

you felt your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst. the way he was looking at you made it impossible to think straight. niki's face, his lips, arms, and body... the sight's such a turn on.

he then sat beside you again. surge of heat building on his body and blood rushing to the member between his legs. he shifted slightly, hoping you wouldn’t notice the sudden hardness straining against the fabric of his pants but he also hoped that you’d look down and notice the growing evidence of just how much he wanted you right there.

"niki…" you whispered, unsure if it was a protest or an invitation.

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "come on." he whispered, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath it. the faint kiss sent a shiver down your spine and your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

you tensed as his free hand gently took yours. slowly and deliberately, he guided it downwards. "show me." niki said it with such confidence and desire, sending heat pooling low in your stomach.

your hand hovering as his stayed over yours, encouraging but not forcing.

you looked at niki who's looking down, watching you play with yourself. your hands moved from his neck up to his hair then you gently gripped it. your breath's getting shaky and uneven, chest heaving as you continued.

niki's hands roamed under your shirt, freeing your breasts from your bra. he then capture yours lips in a slow yet hungry kiss.

you pulled back, panicking. "i'm close..." you moaned against his mouth.

niki grabbed your hand from his hair and put it inside his boxers so you could feel how hard you made his dick. he started groaning when you started rubbing it.

TT fast forward after, the sound of your heavy panting filled the room. mingling with niki's.

the air's warm and thick with the aftermath of everything that just happened.

you lay tired in the sofa, your hair sticking to your damp forehead while niki hugged you from behind, his chest rising and falling as he also tried to catch his breath.

a soft giggle escaped your lips, you quickly covered your mouth but the sound only made niki shifted to glance over at you, a grin spreading across his face.

"what’s so funny?" he asked, voice raising in curiosity.

"nothing..." you said, you smiled as you tried to suppress another laugh. "it's just… i don't know like, did that really happened?"

niki chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. his hair's a mess, sticking up in all directions, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin but he looked so effortlessly handsome it made your heart race all over again.

"oh, it happened." he said, smirking. "you need me to prove it again?"

you smacked his arm lightly.

his grin widening as he flopped back onto the sofa, throwing an arm over his face dramatically. "damn, you're a lot of work, you know that?"

you rolled your eyes, turning on your side to face him.

niki peeked at you from under his arm, his smile softening as his locked eyes with yours.

breaking the quiet, you reached out and poked his side, making him flinch. "yuck, you're sweaty." you teased, giggling again.

"like you’re not." he shot back, grabbing your hand before you could poke him again. "wash your hand."

"what the fuck?" you cursed in disbelief.

the two of you bursts into laughter, niki shifted closer, his fingers brushing against yours as he intertwined them.

he grinned, leaning in to kiss your lips before flopping back onto the sofa.

"we're showering together."

a/n: lmao at the fast forward after omg. please read part one here

read snitch - reader x niki

read touché - niki x reader

read touché - niki x reader part 2

[mo-ons-stuff]

Pick a Card: Your Love Life in 2025

Any card!

Pile one -> Pile two ↓ Pile Three

Pile One

I'm hearing that you're going to experience this fairytale kind of love. The one where Cinderella and Prince Charming find each other. They dance at the ball, yadda yadda yadda. You're going to experience it all, so I don't have to reaaalllly go into that much detail. It'll be great.

Except, since I also see that you'll love this person persistently, right? But there's also gonna be a minor issue. They're perfect, sure, but there's that one thing that gets you a bit like... hmmmm.

Aka, ~the ick~.

Now, pile one, you're going to have to get real for a moment. Is it an ick, or is it normal? Can you really chastise someone for existing as, like, a human being?

This year will bring you great love, but also great lessons. You may need to learn how to grow with other people. Meaning, you've done the work to get comfortable with yourself, but are you comfortable with other people? I don't see so. You're actually a bit more judgmental than you thought, to the point where you don't realize it. You may think of yourself as a person who is graceful to others, so maybe try seeing where this thought blocks you from actually giving grace.

Sometimes we get so caught up in our own lives that we forget to focus on growing with other people, too. The thing you're gonna have to remember is to get out of your own head. Touch grass. I don't see that you don't but maybe look at the grass for what it is instead of triumphantly exclaiming that you did the thing.

So, in tandem with what I just said, your love life will go just perfectly. I doubt that this lesson will fly over your head, so try not to ruin a good thing for yourself and it will all be good. You're going to get your happily ever after.

Want me to elaborate? Consider a paid reading!

Pile Two

Not going to lie, this pile is similar to pile three in the sense that you've gone through a bit. Life has a habit of throwing things at you, so you are used to bracing yourself. However, where others haven't done the work, you have. Where there was lack before, there is abundance now. You cultivated the wastelands and have conquered mountains. You've done so much and now all is left is... love?

You're pretty balanced as an individual. Nicely enough, this actually attracts people. That. Is. So. Crazy !!!! <- I'm getting that you'll be thinking back on this year and it's interactions like that. Literally, though, it's going to blow your mind how when push comes to shove... your efforts actually led to good results. You're going to see what it's like in action.

It's not like it's going to be too unbelievable. It's literally just a new normal. And, it takes getting used to.

When you do get used to it, dating itself is going to be really nice. You'll know how to get around and find someone. This is going to be less of a surprise to you; I'll explain why.

This lover is very bumbly (almost clumsy) and sweet, and meanly enough you may not consider them an option at first. It's not personal, you just didn't. But they are also kind of obvious too. It's just endearing, honestly. They're a bit silly, with all of this as I'm reading like awww they're so cute. You won't have to worry about the cruelty of the world with them. They're a human with emotions and complications do arise because of that, but you know how to navigate these things and so do they.

Not going to lie, some of you are afab wlw, and others are afab but straight. This person could be either gender, so basically take it as it resonates for the gender you're into.

*gif unrelated. Tahani is hot and a baddie.

Want me to elaborate? Consider a paid reading!

Pile Three

"I am trying to find myself. Sometimes that's not easy."- Marilyn Monroe

Admittedly, and I mean admittedly because you know this deep down, pile three, but admittedly you know that your love prospects haven’t been good. You are aware of why, too. There’s a truth that you’re running from, all because it’s a bit too painful to process. And it makes you choose the same hurt again and again. The devil often comes knocking at your door, and you haven’t comprehended that maybe you shouldn’t fall for the different clothes or his sweet words.

All of that is to say: gain more self-awareness. You’re falling for the same tricks in different clothes because you aren’t aware of what you need to do to not let this in. Boundaries are powerful only because they stop things that aren't meant for you in your life. Don't forget: you not liking things and acting accordingly is a boundary, too.

To speak from the heart for a moment: I kept wondering why certain types of people were "attracted" to me, like I was a magnet for bad. But, as it turns out, I've learned that other people tolerate bullshit so much less. Meaning, I was not attracting these people. They interact with others too; I was letting them in where others wouldn't. If you're suffering, and you notice that the people around you aren't, they're doing something you haven't been doing. Maybe you subconsciously tolerate less, or maybe you even consciously ignore the voice in your head telling you to get away.

You can only ever subconsciously tolerate less by consciously getting disgusted at tolerating more.

Actionable advice to change your future: if confronting the monster that needs to be confronted is too hard for you, chip away at its hard scales slowly but surely. Keep your distance at the times you need to, and confront it head on when you need to. It takes patience and you may get burned, but experience is the best teacher. Look to others who have been through the same thing as you and be completely open to trying what they have successfully used to combat their disorders, addictions, and trauma (always get medical professional help first though).

This is a you year. One day at a time, you will get better. And when the next new year rolls around, maybe you'll have learned enough to finally embrace a year of romantic prosperity and abundance. I see that this pile is actually lowkey full of baddies, pulling a quote by Marilyn Monroe isn't for weak personalities.

On a final note, don't get discouraged by this message. One year in a life is a drop in the ocean. You most likely won't remember the lonely times when you finally do reach the other side of the hardships. All that matters is that you get comfortable with *you*, and what's meant for you will soon follow.

Want me to elaborate? Consider a paid reading!

Thank you for reading!

[nosyp]

Hii could we possibly get a smut w Cho Hyun-Ju x f!reader where were basically a person who loves to joke around n chill w everybody else but when it comes to Hyun, we get all distracted, stutter around her, n js listen to everything she says not even realizing that we have a crush on her until someone brings it up n were like “oh crap wtf im being weak😥” which causes us to avoid her n be in denial of having feelings cuz we wanna seem focused n nonchalant which everyone notices especially her n that causes her to corner us n lead to smth spicy? Pls n thank u!!

THIS IS SO GOOOODDDD!! I'm so sorry but errrr I'm trying to figure myeslf out rn so not much smut 😔😔😔😔😔

Title = Flustered and Fallen

Warnings = mdni, kissing, touching, smut interrupted by guard sorry hehe🥺

Pairing = Cho Hyun Ju x fem!reader

Summary = You're confident around everyone, except Hyun-Ju. When you realize you have feelings for her, you start avoiding her. But Hyun-Ju won't let you hide anymore, and things get more intense when she corners you one day.

Word count = 1.5k

You were the kind of person who could easily get along with just about anyone. Your relaxed attitude and carefree nature made you a natural at making friends. A well-timed joke here, a playful comment there, everyone loved how effortlessly you could lighten the mood. The other players would often gravitate toward you, laughing at your banter or joining in on the fun. You could talk about anything and everything, and no matter the chaos of the games, your personality never once changed. But that was before she came into the picture.

It started to shift when Player 120, Hyun-Ju, entered the room. At first, you told yourself it was nothing. She was just another player, just another person to interact with. But then, it happened. The moment her gaze met yours, something inside you flipped and you found yourself stumbling over your words, losing track of sentences mid-conversation. Where you usually spoke effortlessly, now you fumbled, feeling like an idiot each time she looked at you.

"H-hey," you tried to joke, but instead it came out broken up and stuttered. "Don't te… tell me you're gonna– gonna be the quiet one in this group? You got–gotta keep up with all the st– stuff happening! Or else you'll be left behind."

But as soon as she turned her head toward you, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles, you suddenly felt heat rush to your face. Why was this so hard? Why was your usual confidence suddenly evaporating?

"Maybe I'm just waiting for you to catch up," she teased, her voice calm yet somehow sent shivers up your spine.

You tried to laugh it off, but all you could manage was a nervous chuckle, blinking awkwardly as you avoided her gaze. It was her. Her presence. It made everything feel different. You’d quickly become aware of how much you started paying attention to the way she spoke, the way her posture shifted. Every time she moved, you couldn't stop watching her.

Even when you were surrounded by others, your mind would drift back to her. You'd notice how effortlessly she handled herself in the games, how she made every action seem so smooth, and how you couldn't seem to focus when she was near. Unlike the playful, relaxed version of yourself you showed everyone else, with Hyun-Ju, you were clumsy. Awkward even. You couldn’t even make eye contact for more than a second without feeling your chest tighten.

One day, after another awkward moment where you fumbled a sentence in front of her, your friend nudged you with a grin. "You good, [Y/N]?" he asked, eyeing your flushed face. "You look like you're about to pass out every time Hyun-Ju speaks."

"Wh-what?" you stammered, shaking your head. "I'm fine, just—" You trailed off, trying to brush it off like it was nothing. You glanced at Hyun-Ju quickly, who was talking to someone else. The sight of her made your heart race again.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying your act. "Come on, I’ve never seen you act like this before. You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?"

Your throat went dry, and you could feel your heart start to pound harder. "No, no! I don’t—" you sputtered, but it was too late. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, hard. You did. You had a crush on Hyun-Ju. You weren’t sure when it happened, but now that it had settled in your mind, it was all you could think about. Your attempts to deny it only made things worse, making you avoid her more.

It didn’t take long for others to start noticing, either. You went out of your way to be anywhere but near Hyun-Ju, trying to appear uninterested. But every time she walked into the room, you found yourself stiffening, words faltering, and cool exterior melting.

“[Y/N]?” a voice cut through your thoughts. It was Hyun-Ju’s voice, calm as usual. You froze, immediately standing up to look anywhere but at her. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, trying your best to act like you were just as unaffected as you always had been. "Yeah, just—just thinking."

But Hyun-Ju was no fool. She saw right through your act, and a smirk tugged at her lips. "You’ve been acting strange lately. Is it something I did?" Her tone was teasing, but there was something in her eyes that made you shiver, an unreadable look that seemed to look straight through you.

Your heart raced, and your mouth went dry. “I— uh— I’m fine," you managed, turning away quickly to avoid her gaze. You didn’t know how to handle this. You didn’t want to admit it, but being near her made you feel weak, and you hated it. You hated how powerless she made you feel.

Hyun-Ju seemed to notice your discomfort, and the intensity in her eyes shifted. There was a hint of amusement now, mixed with something else. Something more dangerous. She leaned closer, her voice dropping low. 

“You can’t hide it forever, you know. I know what you’re feeling, and I don’t mind.” Her breath was warm against your ear, and your breath caught in your throat. Then she got even closer. “In fact, I actually like it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was too much. Too intense. You needed to get away.

“I’m just... I’m just focused on the game,” you stammered, attempting to walk away quickly. But Hyun-Ju’s hand caught your wrist, her grip firm but not painful. “Don't think you can run away from this, [Y/N]. Not now.”

And in that moment, you realized you were in deep. She wasn’t going to let you pretend any longer.

—

Fuck. How did you get into this situation? Somehow you were now sharing a stall with her.

“I– I– don’t know why I act weird around you okay?!” you say, trying to give excuses for your weird behaviour. 

“You sure? Everyone else seems to notice and you know why.” she says, continuing to pressure you for answers. “I’m not here for your excuses.”

You felt the walls closing in on you, heart racing in your chest. Her gaze was unrelenting, eyes narrowing as she stepped closer, her presence so overwhelming it made your breath get stuck in your throat.

"I–I don't know what you want me to say..." you stammer, feeling your confidence slowly slipping away under her intense stare. The space between you two was so tight now, your skin prickling with the closeness.

"You don't know?" she murmured, her voice soft but with an edge that made your body tense. "You really don't know why you're acting like this?"

You couldn't meet her gaze. You wanted to look away, to step back, but your feet seemed frozen to the ground. She moved again, just an inch from you now, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "I think you do."

Her hand brushed against yours, fingers barely grazing your skin, and you couldn't stop the shiver that ran down your spine. The heat between you two was almost suffocating, and every inch of your body screamed to close the gap.

But instead, you froze. What was she waiting for? What did she expect from you?

Your eyes were starting to hurt, maybe from the light above, maybe from the tears you were holding back. You didn’t know. 

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a pair of lips suddenly being pressed against yours. The kiss was so tender… so loving. Were you going crazy? Maybe you were. Involuntarily, you leaned into the kiss, further deepening it, letting you taste her tongue as she tasted yours. Then, she pulled away, ending your sweet moment.

"You're not like the others, y’know…" she murmured, her voice low and soft. With every single word, you felt like you were going even crazier. "You make me want to do things I haven’t done in a long time."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words. Was she… was she admitting something? Or was this another game? You couldn’t be sure, but the way she looked at you told you everything you needed to know.

"I…" Your voice cracked, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could stop them. "I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t stop thinking about you." you finally admitted. 

She only lets out a chuckle until she lets her lips crash onto yours again. She sucks, nibbles on your lip as her hands roam around your body. The warmth of her touch was solicitous, showing how much she loved you. 

Almost automatically, you started leaning into her touch more, eager to feel more of her. The heat in your body gradually increases the more you feel her fingertips dragging around your body.  

Then– the door slams open and reveals a pink guard. Fuck no.

“Player 120. Player [number]. Come out. Time is up.”

[higuchisora]

Honestly, I was always under the impression that Vander parented them "indirectly", if that makes sense. Like, Vander parented Vi, and Vi took those lessons and parented the others with them, because Vander simply didn't have the time to do so himself, and Vi was basically his mini-me.

Even prior to season 2, when I saw how the previous League bio for Warwick, which implied his only memory of his past life was Powder (it says all he remembers is a little girl screaming a name- aka Powder screaming for Vi), that kind of confused me. Because on one hand, yes they're both his daughters and it's his final on-screen moment in season 1, but on the other, it felt thematically odd.

Like, he's supposed to be "dead"/unconscious by then. So wouldn't it make more sense if his final memory is of Vi screaming and crying over him? Also, considering Powder wasn't even crying over Vander- it's weird to me that his final memory is about an experience he isn't really a part of. It's Vi and Powder's scene, not Vander's and Powder's or Vander's and Vi's, so why would we want that to be his only memory?

Safe to say, as much as I thought it was sweet that they had a moment of recognition in season 2 (though I do have to wonder why seeing him like that didn't trigger Jinx at all), it definitely felt off to me. Especially since we never got to see Powder/Jinx have any real positive relationships with anyone other than Vi (before Silco), seeing her and Vander being so connected after his transformation didn't feel earned. Any affection she might've had for her previous family (and them for her) prior to Warwick nearly killing her is left entirely up to the audience to infer, which isn't really a good choice for a scene that you want to be emotional for EVERYONE. If his return is supposed to be inarguably a good thing, why leave the context behind it entirely ambiguous?

Especially when they already have a character set up for this exact kind of bittersweet moment: Vi. The focus on Jinx in the Dad Rescue Arc would make way more sense to me if Silco was the one being brought back. It really should've been Vi taking the lead on this one, which would've perfectly handled the "we don't know what to do with her anymore LMAO" thing Linke was talking about. (Honestly, I'm personally of the opinion that we shouldn't have had a Vander-Returns-Arc at all, considering the lack of time and simultaneous lack of substance both this arc and this entire season had, but I'd do anything to give Vi something to fucking do). OP is 100% correct, Vi should've been the one to grab Jinx and hit her with the "he was your dad too" line. Could've especially been potent if Jinx was all, "why couldn't it have been Silco?" about the whole thing, maybe even making digs at Vi at first when she tells her Vander's back (doing a "looks like crazy runs in the family" line or something), leading to some conflict between them at first, before Vi dishes out that line and perhaps a heartfelt "trust me just this once, just one last time" (or something to that affect). Which would work on Jinx IMO, because as we've established, as angry as she is with Vi, her willpower might as well be wet paper when it comes to trying to "hate" her sister.

If anything, this arc probably should've centered more around how the sisters still love each other, rather than their dads tbh. Vi obviously loves Vander, just as Jinx loves Silco, but I feel it's pretty clear they BOTH prioritize each other over everyone else, even still. Yeah yeah, Vi hit Powder, Yada yada- but think about it for a second. If all of this still happened, but this time it was, say, Mylo that did all this, blowing up their family etc. Etc.- do you seriously think Vi would have forgiven him for it? Do you think she'd desperately chase after him the way she chases Jinx, if Mylo ignored her orders and gotten Powder killed? This would be entirely different story, because Vi would've probably beaten Mylo to death, actually. She wouldn't have held back and walked away the way she did for Jinx in act 1 of season 2. She wouldn't be crying and bargaining with Mylo at that dinner party- she'd be straining against the ropes so she could strangle him with them. I'd say the same goes for anyone that isn't Jinx. Even Vander- even if she couldn't kill him, she'd never forgive him. He'd be dead to her in all the ways that matter.

Hence, this arc (imo) should've looked more like the sisters lowkey using Vander as a vehicle/excuse for their reunion. Like, Vi being so eager and happy to have Vander back because yes, she loves him and missed him, but also, it's one less reason for her to be mad at Jinx. One less reason her sense of duty would have to pit them against each other. If Vi could wave her hand and bring them all back, I'm convinced her first thought would be, "now we can move on, now I'm not obligated to oppose her." Because I genuinely believe the only thing really holding her back at this point is this idea of "I have to do what's 'right'." She was ready to move past this even before Vander came back as a furry, now she just has an excuse to show up unannounced at Jinx's door. And Jinx, too, being as obsessed with Vi's affection as she still is, would probably make some jabs and generally be distrustful, but the entire time she's still going along. The opportunity is too good to pass up. The chance to have Vi back is too tantalizing, is quite literally exactly what she's always wanted, even now, even after all this time. She'd take it, and as soon as she got a taste of that affection again, the soft smiles and the fond gazes, maybe even an instinctual pat on the shoulder, done before Vi even has time to consider if she should do that or not- it's a done deal. She'll still be insecure, in need of constant reassurance- but she'd be too eager to really be cautious, desperately seeking more and more of it.

As would Vi, who'd be over the moon to be able to hold a conversation with her sister again that wasn't laced with constant insults and hostility. It'd be almost like they're kids again, before everything went to hell in a handbasket, just them (and their dad) in a dingy old bar. As long as they ignored all the fur, of course.

TLDR basically I hijacked this to say I agree 100% with OP and think this arc was emotionally/thematically dodgy in several ways, which I explore a little in this reblog.

Jinx just never really liked Vander that much.

One of the things that, to me, seemed like a main theme in Jinx's arc in season 1 was the contrast between her two families, and how her switch from Vander's daughter to Silco's drastically changes the way her personality takes shape.

And I hate that the fandom, and now the show, too, has reduced Silco to an unhealthy influence in Jinx's life, pushing her towards her "bad" side (being Jinx) when, for all his flaws... he gives her a better childhood than she ever had with Vander. The first three episodes of the first season, to me, when I watched them, illustrate quite clearly that Powder feels unhappy in her family life. She is the most mal-adjusted of Vander's kids. Her older brother constantly berates her, and it's quite clearly having a big effect on her self-image. She later takes up the Jinx name and persona once she feels like she has become irredeemable as a person. Her other brother never defends her. Vi is the only one who is there for her, and they care for each other, but at the same time you can see there's still a little insecurity in their relationship. Vi is worried that maybe Powder is indeed too weak, and Powder worries that maybe Vi does indeed see her as a Jinx like her brother does.

And when it comes to Vander... he's just not really all that present in her life. And I don't blame him, the man has four kids to take care of, on top of keeping things running in the Undercity. It's clearly not his intention. But it doesn't change the fact that he's not there for Powder, not as much as she needs. To me, when I watched the first season, it seemed like Vander was a figure that felt far away to Powder, someone that she admired but also feared being completely herself around, and someone that she ultimately wished to be closer to than she actually was. It's worth mentioning that Jinx never says his name post time skip, and he is not a hallucination for her, not until Vi brings him up in the finale. Hell, Claggor is somehow a hallucination for her and he never even speaks. Vander was just not an influential figure in Jinx's life.

I always found the scene at the end of ep3 of s1 fascinating, because Powder never once mourns Vander. She never once cries for him and never once says his name. When she sees his dead body, she becomes shocked and starts crying, but it's not actually what breaks her. What breaks her is Vi's rejection. Had it just been that she accidentally caused the deaths of her brothers and adoptive father, she would not have crumbled mentally. It's Vi's rejection that destroys her. Now, of course, a little girl that cares more about her sister's affection towards her than the lives of her family members is kinda messed up, but that's what makes her character interesting. And we can see that that little girl doesn't go anywhere, as Jinx displays the exact same one-mindness about her sister. Because Jinx and Powder were never really that different, after all.

She is quite clearly placed with her back to Vander's body, that she never turns to, barely looks at, only enough to recognize him and see he's dead, and never says the name of. She's turned towards Vi, calling for Vi, crying because of Vi, and no one else. Heck, Vi had just been crying over his body a few moment ago. Vi is clearly distraught over his death. Vi is devastated, she literally punches her sister and curses her in the exact worst possible way she can, in the way she know it will hurt her sister the most. But Powder... she just honestly dgaf.

So to then hear Jinx say this line in season 2...

...is just straight up jarring. I was pulled out of the story when I heard this. This is Jinx saying this to Vi. This kinda makes it seem like it was Jinx who was most attached to Vander, or at least that she was just as attached to him as Vi was. Which is just not how things seemed in the story at literally any point until this one. And then season 2 continues this way, and somehow makes Jinx seem like the closest daughter to Vander. Flipping Warwick literally acts more attached to Jinx than Vander ever did to Powder. Like literally. Season 1 clearly sets up that Vi is the favorite daughter, and then they just... flip it?? Warwick cares more for Jinx and responds better to her than to Vi. It's actually insane. It's true they sanitized Jinx's character to hell and back this season, but this is a straight-up rewrite. I can't wrap my mind around why they did this. Plus, the entirety of act 2 they set up this weird and pointless arc of Jinx rekindling her relationship with Vander or something... and like literally her story was genuinely never about that.

(This COULD have been Vi's story. And that might have actually been cool, and made sense. Maybe Vi is the one who finds him, and she is the one who helps him calm down. And then she brings Jinx, and maybe Jinx is terrified because she was never that close to Vander, and then she literally killed him, so seeing him again is the last thing she wants. Maybe VI is the one who tells Jinx that "he was your dad, too", which would make A LOT more sense, and maybe that's the first time that Jinx thinks that oh, yeah, he was... And then maybe they have a cute moment where Vander forgives her. Or maybe she sees the state he's in right now and loses it completely. Or maybe they look at each other and they both see the monster each of them has become. And then maybe Vi looks down at the enforcer uniform she's wearing, and, privately, sees it too. Idk. The things we could have had.)

Silco was actually a good dad to Jinx, in all the ways that Vander wasn't. He gives her all the attention that she never had before. He not only listens to her, but actively asks for her side of the story. He never insults her, and he defends her against Sevika. He trusts her and gives her opportunities to prove she's capable. She goes from being one of four siblings, and getting lost in the shuffle and often ending up feeling forgotten and alone, to being the most important child, always taken into consideration and almost put on a pedestal by her dad (this, like, has to have cured some inner wounds, i think).

Silco understands Jinx better than any other character in the show, and I'm genuinely sad that we didn't get to see any flashback of Jinx growing up with him. Because their relationship was so unique, and so integral to Jinx's character and to the rest of the story, that the fact that we never get to see any other glimpse into their bond is just...

As a final note, I'd also like to add that I dislike when people say that Silco "groomed" Jinx. I think a much more realistic analysis is that he enabled her. And as for all the times he tells Jinx that Vi "betrayed her", that's just a reflection of his own trauma, and also because he fears that if Jinx knew Vi was alive, she would go back to her and leave him (which, considering what goes down in the s1 finale, not an unfounded fear). It's wrong that he does that, but it's not out of malicious intent (also tbh Jinx never really seems to believe him anyway).

And for all the people who say that Silco "turned Jinx into a terrorist" (dumbest people in this fandom fr, im sorry), that's just straight up not true. Powder was already like that. That is quite literally why Silco adopts her. Because he sees that she's like him. Silco would not have taken Powder in if he thought she was just a cute, innocent kid who was orphaned (to, what, raise her for years so that, MAYBE when she's older, she MIGHT be useful to him? when they meet he doesn't know she's the one that caused the explosion, he just knows that she's been abandoned by Vi). This is the kid who thought playing around with explosives was a fun hobby. This is the kid who giggled at the thought of hurting others. This is the kid who already suffered from explosive emotions. This is the kid who saw her father and her brothers dead, because of her, and all she cared about was whether her sister was mad at her because of it. This is the kid who throws herself at the first person she sees, someone who her sister hates, who is the cause of all this destruction, and with an anger that shocks most viewers, declares that Vi is not her sister anymore. She is livid in that one moment.

Powder already had it in her from the beginning. And it's also ok to like a character (and to write one) even if they are not 100% morally pure in every single way under the sun, cause that is quite literally what stories are for.

[warblogs17282]

I'm still busy thinking about that comment that said that Vivzie said season 3 would have a focus on 'family and addiction', and now that I think about it, the show really does appear to be heading that direction. (Again, I do not have the clip to confirm this claim at this moment in time.)

As for family, let's start with Stolas and Octavia, we know that their conflict is far from being over at this point in the show for a few reasons, but the biggest one is the fact that Blitz makes it especially clear in the last few moments of the episode, with the lines 'You just gotta give her time.' and 'You just gotta keep trying.', so we definitely have more plotlines involving these two in season 3 (and Andrealphus + Stella).

Wherever the show decides to go in regards in Millie's pregnancy and the fact that Sallie May knows about said pregnancy, and I also imagine it's likely that the rest of Millie's family is also going to find out about Millie's pregnancy at some point during season 3 as well, so Millie's family is likely going to make more appearances during season 3 as well.

Blitz mentions Barbie Wire towards the end of the episode as well, in which I can only imagine that it's foreshadowing more Blitz and Barbie Wire interactions, and potentially some sort of resolution to their conflict at some point during season 3 as well.

Something else that the show makes quite clear is just how much the circus fire + Blitz's upbringing with an abusive parent still deeply effects Blitz to this day, (and quite frankly, the events of that fateful day will probably still continue to effect Blitz, forever.) so we're probably going to see more regarding that and potentially some more flashbacks to the pre-circus fire days, especially in regards to Blitz's mother and Blitz's abusive father, even more so if Blitz is referring to said circus fire with the line 'for something that I did.'

Considering how s2 e3 and s2 e6 went for Crimson, I imagine he's going to be plot relevant next season as well, which likely opens the gates for more flashbacks and such regarding Moxxie's upbringing in the mob family, potentially showing us more scenes of Moxxie's mother as well, who, as I've said before, was likely murdered by Crimson when Moxxie was very young.

I have no idea if they'll make an appearance next season, but I do still find it interesting that Stolas' mother just appears to be non-existent, so I do wonder if they have a plotline involving her, or if they have plotlines related to Stolas and Paimon at some point during season 3 as well, although probably not tbh.

Of course, I can't finish off this section without mentioning I.M.P, and all the people within it, which is it's own found family at this point tbh.

And this scene as well, we absolutely cannot forget the Stolitz domestic family moment that we saw in Sinsmas, aka, the scene where we see some of Blitz's hopes and dreams.

As for addiction, we have Stolas' alcoholism, which alongside being something that the show has pointed out in some form time and time again, Bryce has mentioned at a panel or whatever that it is something that Stolas struggles with, so I imagine it's probably going to get a mention in season 3 at some point.

Stolas and smoking might be something that comes up at some point, but I kinda doubt that considering that we've only seen Stolas smoke once before, all the way back in s1 e5, but for now I do think it's something worth keeping an eye on.

The fact that Verosika also appears to be an alcoholic, it got mentioned once in s1 e3 that she went to rehab, but got out early because she was famous, while still very clearly being an alcoholic, so I wonder if that's going to get a mention at some point during season 3.

And finally, Blitz makes a comment about the fact that Barbie Wire used to be on some sort of drug named H-8, which she went to rehab for at some point considering Verosika's earlier statement, so I wouldn't be surprised if this detail gets brought up again tbh.

So yea, considering that alleged statement from Vivziepop saying that season 3 is going to have a focus on 'family and addiction', I can already see quite a few potential plot points the show has potentially been setting up for that's relevant to either the themes of family or addiction. (Obviously there's also other ones that's going to relevant as well like Blitz and Loona, but I just want to focus more so on the plot points that the show appears to be directly setting up for season 3.)