#LEAN *knife emoji*

[blog-o-meter]

House of Whispers (Part 2) - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: Everything comes to a head and (Y/N) is right in the middle.

warnings: 18+, angst, so much arguing srry not srry, unprotected p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, cheating, cursing, outdoor sex, idk what else honestly

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

word count: 25,005

a/n: part 2 is here yay!!!! ik this part picks up abruptly but I truly didn't want to split it up into parts </3 curse you Tumblr! anyway this is the last part so pls enjoy. I had so much fun writing house of whispers, idk like I could clearly imagine everything happening in my head crying emoji you guys already know how much I love dragging shi out for no reason. anyway I have some ideas already for other single-part fics, I just need to write them!

Part 1 | Part 2

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

Over the next few days, the tension only grew.

Valerie settled into her role as the center of attention with a practiced ease that made my skin crawl. She was charming and effervescent in front of Nicholas’s mom and the guests, always quick with a compliment or a laugh. But the moment their backs were turned, she shifted, snapping at the staff with thinly veiled disdain and issuing passive-aggressive commands like she was the queen of a castle that wasn’t hers, at least not yet. Not for another few months.

“Do you really think that centerpiece works?” I overheard her ask Maria, her voice syrupy sweet but her eyes hard. “I mean, I guess it’s fine if we’re going for rustic, but I thought we were aiming for elegant. Maybe… try again?”

Maria nodded quickly, her cheeks flushing as she scrambled to adjust the arrangement. I wanted to say something, to call her out, but I knew better. Confrontation wouldn’t end well — not with her. Instead, I bit my tongue, holding onto the simmering anger as I turned away.

Whenever Nicholas wasn’t in the room, she barked orders like a drill sergeant, her tone sharp and impatient. But the moment he returned, she was all soft smiles and doe-eyed adoration. It was a performance, and I hated how good she was at it.

The mistreatment wasn’t lost on Paolo or my mom either. Paolo shot me a glance as we passed through the dining room the next afternoon, his expression tight. “Your friend,” he said under his breath, the word ‘friend’ dripping with sarcasm, “has a real knack for making people feel small.”

“She’s not my friend,” I replied, my tone sharper than intended. Paolo raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue.

Maria, on the other hand, was less subtle. Later that evening, as we stood in the kitchen helping prepare dessert, she leaned close, her voice low. “That woman,” she muttered, nodding toward the patio where Valerie was holding court with a group of guests, “is a nightmare. I can’t believe Nicholas is marrying her.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Instead, I focused on slicing strawberries, the knife trembling slightly in my hand. My mom’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing.

Nicholas wasn’t oblivious, either. I caught him watching her more than once, his jaw tightening and his gaze darkening as she dismissed a server or criticized one of the housekeepers. He didn’t say anything, not directly, but the cracks in his façade were growing until he had enough.

The dining room was alive with conversation, the clinking of glasses and the low hum of laughter filling the space. I sat between Paolo and my mom, doing my best to focus on the meal and ignore the weight of Nicholas’s gaze from across the table. Valerie sat beside him, her hand resting possessively on his arm as she chatted animatedly with one of the other guests.

“So, Paolo,” Valerie said suddenly, her voice cutting through the chatter like a blade. “It’s fascinating, really, how someone in your line of work can find time to travel so much. I mean, I suppose it’s easier when you don’t have to worry about running a household.” The smile on her lips didn’t reach her eyes, and the condescension in her tone was unmistakable.

Paolo, to his credit, remained calm. He leaned back in his chair, his expression polite but cool. “It’s all about balance,” he replied smoothly. “I imagine you’d know a lot about that, being so… involved in planning your upcoming nuptials.”

“Balance is key,” he said, his voice deceptively calm as he set his fork down. “Of course, it also helps to treat the people around you with a little respect. Makes things run a lot smoother.”

Valerie blinked, her smile faltering for a split second before she recovered. “Oh, definitely,” she said, her tone overly sweet. “I was just saying how impressive Paolo’s schedule must be. It’s really a compliment.”

Nicholas’s gaze didn’t waver. “It didn’t sound like one.”

The tension at the table was palpable, the other guests suddenly finding excuses to excuse themselves. My mom gave me a knowing look as she stood, her arm brushing Paolo’s. “Let’s grab some coffee in the lounge,” she said brightly, her tone masking the awkwardness in the air. Paolo nodded, rising to follow her and the others out of the room.

I lingered, my heart pounding as I saw Nicholas lean back in his chair, his dark eyes fixed on Valerie. I should have left, but something in his expression made me hesitate. I slipped into the hallway just outside the dining room, pressing myself against the wall as I strained to hear their conversation.

“I don’t know what that was about,” Valerie said, her voice sharp now that the audience was gone. “You didn’t have to embarrass me like that.”

“I didn’t embarrass you,” Nicholas replied evenly. “You did that yourself.”

There was a pause, and I could imagine her bristling, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the tablecloth. “Excuse me?”

Nicholas’s tone was calm, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down my spine. “You think I don’t notice the way you talk to people? The way you treat them like they’re beneath you?”

“I don’t—” she started, but he cut her off.

“You do,” he said firmly. “And I’m sick of it. This isn’t the first time, and it’s not going to keep happening.”

Her voice dropped, sharp and cold. “What are you trying to say?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’m saying you need to start treating people with respect, Valerie.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. I held my breath, my pulse racing as I waited for her response.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and tight with barely contained anger. “I can’t believe you’re taking their side. You’re overreacting,” she snapped. “I was just making conversation.”

“No, you were making digs,” he said sharply. “And you’ve been doing it since we got here.”

I pressed my hand to my chest, my heart pounding as the truth in his words settled over me. I shouldn’t have been listening, but I couldn’t tear myself away.

“I’m not the problem here,” Valerie hissed. “You’re the one who’s been acting different. Distant. Do you think I haven’t noticed?”

Nicholas exhaled sharply, the scrape of his chair audible as he leaned back. “I’ve been distant because I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not.”

My breath caught at the bluntness in his tone. I edged closer to the doorway, my pulse pounding as I waited for her response.

Valerie didn’t miss a beat. “Fine? You think I’m the problem here?” Her voice was sharp but edged with something calculated. “Nicholas, you’ve been distracted since the moment we arrived. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way your eyes wander.”

There was a pause, heavy with implication. Nicholas didn’t respond immediately, and when he finally did, his voice was low but filled with quiet anger. “Don’t try to twist this.”

“I’m not twisting anything,” she said quickly, her voice softening as if she’d just realized she’d pushed too far. “Look, I know the last few months have been… stressful. Planning the wedding, keeping up appearances—it’s a lot. And maybe I haven’t been as understanding as I should be.”

Her tone shifted, adopting an air of vulnerability. It was a performance, but an effective one. “But that’s no excuse to start attacking me at the dinner table. You humiliated me, Nicholas. In front of your family.”

Nicholas sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. “You’re not the victim here, Valerie. I’m not going to sit back and let you talk to people like they’re beneath you.”

“I wasn’t!” she snapped, but then caught herself. Her next words came softer, more measured. “Maybe it came off wrong. I was just trying to make conversation, Nic. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

The air shifted, her tone almost pleading now. “I know I can be… abrasive sometimes. It’s just the pressure, you know? I want everything to be perfect for us, for the wedding, for your family. I’m trying, Nic. I really am.”

She reached across the table, and I could practically hear the sound of her hand resting on his. “I need you to believe that. To believe in us.”

My chest tightened, a familiar pang of jealousy mingling with anger as I listened to her carefully crafted words. She was diffusing the situation, steering it back under her control, and Nicholas was letting her.

“I don’t know if I believe it anymore,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

Her breath hitched audibly, and I could feel the weight of the silence that followed. Then, she let out a soft, shaky laugh. “You don’t mean that,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. “You’re tired, Nic. And overwhelmed. We both are.”

“I mean it,” Nicholas said, his tone unwavering. “I don’t want to keep pretending.”

Valerie didn’t respond immediately, and when she did, her voice was calm, almost too calm. “Do you really think now is the time to be having this conversation? With your family here? With everyone watching us?”

Nicholas let out a frustrated sigh, but she pressed on. “I get it, Nic. I do. But this isn’t just about us anymore. There’s the baby to think about. Our future.”

I heard Nicholas’s chair scrape against the floor as he stood, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. His footsteps echoed as he walked away, and I barely had time to duck further into the hallway before he passed by. His expression was dark, his jaw tight, but he didn’t see me.

And he might’ve not seen me then, he sure as hell saw me whenever his eyes weren’t on Valerie.

Every stolen glance, every brush of his hand against mine when no one was looking, sent a jolt through me. He found excuses to slip away from the group, and I wasn’t far behind. It was reckless, dangerous, and impossible to resist.

The first rendezvous after our pool house tryst happened after the dinner incident. I was helping Maria set up the dessert table in the garden. Nicholas appeared out of nowhere, his presence like a storm cloud rolling in.

“(Y/N),” he said quietly, his tone a warning and a plea all at once. Maria glanced between us, her brows knitting in confusion before excusing herself with a polite nod. She left me alone with him, the space suddenly too small despite the open air.

“Yes, Nicholas? Do you need something?” I whispered, my voice sharp as I adjusted a platter of macarons, careful to meet his gaze even though I knew there was nobody around. Though, I was hyper aware of the windows of the house, especially the ones on the second floor, which basically had a front row and unobstructed view of the backyard as opposed to the first floor windows covered in bushes and climbing vines.

“You,” he replied simply, the weight of the word making my hands tremble. I felt him step closer, the heat of his body radiating against my back.

I stiffened, gripping the base of the macaron tower as my eyes flicked up to the second floor, my heart skipping a beat as I caught sight of a shadow passing by one of the second-floor windows. I turned my back to him, walking to the end of the table to fix the tablecloth, “Second floor, left corner window,” I whispered.

Nicholas stilled, his gaze snapping upward in the direction I indicated. He lingered just long enough to catch the subtle movement of the shadow, then turned his head slightly, pretending to admire the flowers lining the garden path.

“Were you always this observant?” he asked, his voice low and steady as he walked toward the far end of the table, keeping his posture casual but a smirk played on the corner of his mouth.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, my fingers adjusting the edges of a napkin as though I cared deeply about the table’s presentation. “I had to learn if I was gonna sneak around with you all those years ago,” I teased.

Nicholas chuckled softly, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry to the house. “You always were good at keeping me on my toes,” he murmured, his dark eyes catching mine briefly before flicking back to the shadow in the window. “But you’re even better now. More confident.”

I rolled my eyes, keeping my hands busy with a basket of utensils. “Confidence comes with age,” I replied lightly, though my heart raced under his gaze. “Unlike some people, I actually grew up.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth against his sun-kissed skin. “In more ways than one.” His voice dropped to a whisper, full of teasing heat, as he leaned just close enough that only I could hear.

I nearly dropped the basket, my cheeks heating as I turned my back to him again, pretending to fix the tablecloth. “Oh, my god. You really just said that,” I muttered, though the faint smile tugging at my lips betrayed me.

Nicholas chuckled, the sound low and full of mischief, but I could feel the tension radiating off him as he glanced toward the window again. “I’m just being honest, baby,” he murmured, stepping closer but keeping his distance just enough to avoid suspicion. “Meet me in the pool house in ten minutes,” he whispered.

I hesitated, my pulse quickening at his words. I wanted to say no, to remind him of the risks, but the weight of his dark, steady gaze made it impossible to resist. Every nerve in my body hummed with the memory of his hands on me, his lips tracing lines of fire against my skin.

Without looking at him, I adjusted a fork in the basket, my voice barely a whisper. “You’re insane.”

“I’m desperate,” he countered, his voice low and rough. “Ten minutes.”

Before I could respond, he stepped away, his posture casual as he walked back toward the house. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked as if he’d merely stopped to check on the dessert setup. But the brush of his fingers against mine as he passed sent a jolt through me, a silent promise of what was to come.

I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the table to steady myself. The faint movement in the second-floor window was gone, and I prayed whoever had been watching had lost interest. My heart raced as I glanced at the house, the hum of conversation and laughter drifting through the open doors.

Was this worth the risk? Of course it wasn’t. But that hadn’t stopped me before, especially not the other night. Though, to be fair, I was drunk. I’m not sure what excuse I could possibly have now.

After an excruciating ten minutes of debating whether to listen to Nicholas, I excused myself from Maria with a lame reason about needing to check on something. She barely glanced up from the desserts, too preoccupied with arranging the delicate tower of profiteroles to question me. I slipped further into the garden, navigating around the paths of perfectly trimmed bushes, my footsteps light against the stone path as I passed the pool and made my way to the pool house.

The pool house door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, my heart pounding in my chest. The space was dimly lit, the faint glow of indirect light filtering through the windows and casting long shadows across the room. I closed the door behind me, my breath hitching as I turned to find Nicholas already waiting.

He was leaning against the wall, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, his tie loosened and the top buttons of his shirt undone. His dark eyes locked onto mine the moment I stepped inside, the tension between us crackling like a live wire.

“You’re late,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine.

“You said ten minutes,” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended as I stepped closer. “I waited exactly that long.”

Nicholas pushed off the wall, closing the distance between us in two quick strides. He stopped just in front of me, his towering frame casting a shadow over mine as his dark eyes searched my face. “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You told me once,” I shot back, my voice trembling slightly as I held his gaze.

He smirked, his hands reaching out to grip my hips and pull me closer. “I mean it,” he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek. “Every time I see you, every second I can’t touch you—it’s killing me.”

“Nic,” I started, but he cut me off, his lips crashing into mine with a desperation that made my knees weak. His hands slid up my sides, his fingers brushing against the bare skin beneath my blouse as he pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine.

I melted into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as his mouth claimed mine, hot and demanding. The taste of him, the feel of him, the sheer intensity of his presence — it was intoxicating. I hated how much I wanted him, how easily he could unravel me with just a look, a touch.

“This is insane,” I murmured against his lips, my voice trembling as he kissed his way down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“I don’t care,” Nicholas growled, his hands gripping my waist as he backed me toward the couch. “I need you.”

I gasped as the backs of my knees hit the edge of the couch, my body sinking into the cushions as he followed, his weight pressing me down. His lips found mine again, his hands working quickly to unbutton my blouse, his movements rough and desperate.

“We shouldn’t,” I whispered, even as my fingers moved to loosen his tie, my body arching into his.

“We won’t get caught,” he promised, his voice low and full of heat as he quickly ripped his shirt off and let it fall to the floor. His lips brushed against my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. “I’ll make it quick.”

I laughed softly, the sound breathless and tinged with disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it,” he shot back, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned down to kiss me again, his hands sliding beneath my skirt.

And God help me, he wasn’t wrong.

Other times, we wouldn’t have sex. Yes, we would sneak a kiss here and there, but we’d also find ourselves just enjoying the other’s company and getting to know each other again.

Late one afternoon, after most of the guests had gone off for a wine tasting tour, Nicholas and I found ourselves alone in the garden. It wasn’t planned — or at least, it wasn’t planned on my part. I’d been rearranging the floral arrangements along the fountain when his voice startled me.

“Still playing florist?” he teased, leaning against the wrought-iron gate with his hands in his pockets, the sunlight casting a golden glow on his sharp features. He was devastatingly casual, his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his dark eyes fixed on me like I was the only thing that mattered.

I straightened, forcing myself to meet his gaze, shrugging my shoulders. “You know how much I love details.”

He smirked, pushing off the gate and strolling toward me, his every movement fluid and purposeful. “That’s one of the things I always loved about you,” he said, his voice low but warm. “You notice the things most people overlook.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the arrangement in front of me. “Careful, Nicholas. Someone might think you’re flirting.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and familiar, sending a shiver down my spine. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, stopping a few feet away. He tilted his head, watching me carefully as I adjusted the flowers. “Why did you even come back to work here? Last I heard you were off working at some big office.”

I froze for a moment, my fingers hovering over the delicate white roses as his question hung in the air. Finally, I sighed, my shoulders dropping as I adjusted the petals of the centerpiece. “It was an unpaid internship, and it looked like it wasn’t going anywhere. So I thought about going back to school to get my master’s, but I can’t do that without a paying job, now can I?” I asked with a smile.

Nicholas nodded slowly, his gaze softening as he stepped closer, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Makes sense,” he murmured, his voice quiet. “But this place… doesn’t it feel like going backward? You always said you wanted to do bigger things.”

I shrugged, forcing a nonchalant smile as I busied myself with the flowers again. “One step forward, two steps back.”

Nicholas tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “That doesn’t sound like you,” he said quietly. “You’re not the kind of person who settles for less than what you want.”

I laughed softly, though it lacked any real humor. “Sometimes life doesn’t give you much of a choice, Nic. You should know that by now,” I cocked an eyebrow, trying to insert a tinge of teasing behind my words to lighten the mood.

He frowned, stepping closer until he was standing beside me, his presence warm and overwhelming. “So what do you want, then?” he asked, his voice low and serious. “What would make you happy?”

I hesitated, my hands stilling over the arrangement. His question lingered in the air between us, heavier than the summer heat. I could feel his gaze on me, piercing and unrelenting, demanding an answer I wasn’t sure I could give.

What did I want? What would make me happy?

The truth was complicated, tangled in the years we’d spent apart, in the choices we’d both made, in the reality of who we were now. And yet, standing there with him so close, the answer felt heartbreakingly simple, but I couldn’t tell him the truth.

I turned to him slowly, meeting his dark, searching eyes. But then, I smiled slowly, “I’ll let you know.”

Nicholas threw his head back in defeat, a smile growing on his face. “You always were good at keeping me on edge,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

I shrugged, turning back to the flowers. “Keeps things interesting,” I replied, plucking a stray leaf from the arrangement and tucking it into my apron pocket. The sunlight filtered through the garden, casting dappled shadows on the path between us, but the air felt charged, humming with unspoken words.

Every touch, every stolen moment, every secret conversation felt like a rebellion against the world around us. It was wrong, so wrong, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to stop. Not when he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. Not when his touch set my skin on fire.

It became a pattern. Nicholas found me whenever he could — in the garden, in the hallway, even once in the pantry when I was restocking supplies. Each time, he kissed me like he was starving, his hands greedy and demanding as though he was trying to remember every inch of me. Or asking me about what I had been up to since I last saw him all those years ago, as if he wanted to get to know the girl that had escaped his grasp and make up for lost time.

And I let him.

I let him because I was angry.

Angry at Valerie for the way she treated everyone around her, for the way she manipulated Nicholas with her lies and her performance of the perfect fiancée. I told myself it was revenge, that every touch, every kiss, every stolen glance or word was a way of reclaiming some small part of my dignity, that she couldn’t scare me into submitting to her. Angry at the universe for ever separating Nicholas and I in the first place. But most of all, I was angry at myself — for still wanting him, for letting him back in so easily, for pretending I could walk away unscathed when I knew better.

Nicholas wasn’t just my past. He wasn’t just somebody I could brush off and forget. He was in my blood, in my bones, in every broken piece of me that still remembered how it felt to love him like I was still that wide-eyed 18-year-old. And no matter how much I tried to deny it, I wasn’t strong enough to resist him.

I hated the person I was becoming. I had never imagined being the other woman, never thought I could be someone who existed in the shadows, taking stolen moments and pretending they were enough. But I couldn’t stop. Not when Nicholas whispered my name. Not when he looked at me with that raw vulnerability that made my heart ache. Not when his touch felt like the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

I was in too deep, and there was no way out.

One day, I was in the kitchen, wiping down the counters as the smell of fresh coffee filled the air. My mom was nearby, chatting softly with Paolo about the menu for the day, and the house was just starting to stir with the faint sounds of life.

That’s when I heard it — a voice. Hers.

I paused mid-wipe, my ears pricking at the sound of Valerie’s voice drifting from the adjoining hallway. She was speaking low, but there was an urgency to her tone that made me still.

“—can’t keep pushing this off,” she hissed, her words clipped. “I told you I’d handle it. Just give me more time.”

I froze, my heart racing as I glanced toward the kitchen door. She was on the phone, and she wasn’t trying to be overheard, but her voice carried just enough that I could pick out the words.

“I know it’s risky,” she continued, her voice sharp. “But I don’t have another option right now. He’s suspicious as it is.”

Suspicious? My stomach twisted as I stepped closer to the door, careful not to make a sound. She was pacing, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she spoke.

“Because it’s not that simple!” she snapped, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. “Do you think I want to be in this position? He’s expecting a baby, and I—” She broke off abruptly, her breath hitching audibly.

The blood drained from my face as her words settled over me. Oh my God.

“But I’m not pregnant,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, raw with frustration. “Not yet.”

I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles white as I tried to process what I’d just heard. Not pregnant. Not yet. She was lying to him — about everything.

My chest tightened, and I took a step back, the tile cool against my bare feet as I tried to catch my breath. The image of her drinking the mimosa, the wine, her tendency to wear very loose clothes to hide a belly that wasn’t really growing flashed through my mind, and suddenly, it all made sense. The evasiveness, the secrecy, the drinking — it was all a façade.

Before I could think better of it, I stepped into the hallway, my voice trembling but firm. “You’re not pregnant?”

Valerie spun around, her eyes wide with shock and then narrowing into something colder. She ended the call with a sharp tap on her phone, slipping it into her pocket as she straightened her posture. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone icy.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” I asked, my voice steadier.

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a tight, forced smile. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It is my concern,” I shot back, anger bubbling to the surface. “You’ve been lying to Nicholas, to everybody. And last week—” I took a step closer, my voice rising. “Oh, my god; it makes so much fucking sense.”

Her expression faltered for a fraction of a second before she composed herself, stepping toward me with calculated grace. “Listen carefully,” she said, her voice low and venomous. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And I suggest you keep your fucking mouth shut.”

I stared at her, my hands trembling at my sides. I wasn’t sure if it was because of anger or fear. “Why are you lying to him?”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought she might answer. But then her lips curled into a smirk, and she leaned in closer, her voice dripping with condescension. “If you think for one second that I’ll let a housemaid ruin everything I’ve worked for, you’re even dumber than you look.”

My heart pounded, but I held my ground. “Is that what this is about? Baby trapping Nicholas so he can marry you?”

Valerie let out a low, humorless laugh, her eyes gleaming with something darker as she stepped even closer, her perfume sharp and overwhelming. “I prefer to think of it as securing my future. Nicholas is my future.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I stared at her, my chest heaving. “He’s not your future if it’s built on lies. You’re playing with people’s lives — his, his family’s, your own. Do you even care about him?”

Her smile faltered, and for the briefest moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something real — fear, maybe, or guilt — but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same steely confidence. “Of course, I care,” she said smoothly, crossing her arms. “But love doesn’t pay the bills.”

Her words were like a slap, the cruelty of them making my stomach turn. “You don’t deserve him,” I said, my voice low but firm. 

She laughed, studying me like I was some curious little animal she could squash under her heel. “And you do?” she asked, her tone sharp and cutting. “Let me save you the trouble, (Y/N) — If you so much as hint at what you think you know, I will make sure you and your mother are out of this house. You’ll lose everything. You want that master’s degree, don’t you? You want your mom to have job security?”

Her words hit me like a slap. She was threatening me, my family. I gulped at her threat. Knowing her, it wasn’t idle. I mean, look at everything she’s done so far to keep up her lie.

She straightened her posture, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her dress. “This conversation is over,” she said coolly. “And if you’re smart, you’ll stay away from Nicholas.”

I stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest as a wave of helplessness washed over me. She was lying to him, manipulating him, and there was nothing I could do to stop her — not without risking my future, my mom’s job security.

I stayed rooted to the spot as she walked away, her heels clicking behind her. I stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty hallway where Valerie had disappeared. My chest was tight, anger and helplessness swirling together into a storm I couldn’t contain. Every instinct screamed at me to run to Nicholas, to tell him everything I’d just heard. But her words echoed in my head like a taunt.

You’ll lose everything.

I couldn’t let that happen. Not to my mom. Not after everything she’d done for me, after all the sacrifices she’d made to give me the chance to build a better life, not when she fought for me to have this job again after I quit my internship. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I forced myself to turn back toward the kitchen.

The moment I stepped through the door, my mom’s gaze snapped to me, her brow furrowing in concern. Paolo, who was busy chopping vegetables, paused mid-motion and glanced up, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took me in.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” my mom said, setting down the dish towel she’d been holding. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, too quickly, the words tumbling out before I could think them through. I busied myself with grabbing a clean dish from the drying rack, avoiding their gazes. “Just needed some air.”

Paolo’s lips pressed into a thin line, his sharp intuition cutting through my flimsy excuse. “You’re pale,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Did something happen?”

“No,” I lied, forcing myself to smile as I turned to face them. “I just needed a break. That’s all.”

My mom didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the issue. “Well, sit down if you need to,” she said, her tone softening. “You’ve been working so hard lately.”

I nodded, grateful for the out, and sank into one of the kitchen chairs. My hands trembled slightly as I folded them in my lap, but I clenched them into fists, willing the shaking to stop.

Paolo, however, wasn’t so easily swayed. He leaned against the counter, his sharp gaze fixed on me. “You know,” he said, his tone casual but pointed, “sometimes the truth has a way of coming out, always.”

My stomach twisted, but I kept my expression neutral. “What are you talking about?”

Paolo shrugged, turning back to his cutting board with a nonchalant air. “Just saying.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Did he know something about what happened just now? About what’s been happening between me and Nicholas? Or was he just trying to get me to open up? Either way, I couldn’t risk saying anything — not here, not now, not when my family was in jeopardy.

For the next few days, I kept my head down, doing everything I could to stay out of both Nicholas’s and Valerie’s paths. It wasn’t easy. Nicholas was everywhere—lingering in the garden, passing through the kitchen, even showing up at the greenhouse where I sometimes retreated to arrange flowers. He always seemed to find me, his dark eyes filled with questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

But I avoided him. I avoided everyone.

My mom noticed, of course. She wasn’t the type to pry, but I could feel her watching me, her brow furrowed in quiet concern. Paolo, on the other hand, wasn’t so subtle. He made little comments, dropped hints about secrets and truth, his sharp eyes cutting through every flimsy excuse I gave him.

And then there was Valerie.

She was everywhere, too, but for a different reason. It was like she could sense my hesitation, my fear, and she reveled in it. She was sharper than usual, her barbs aimed with precision at anyone who dared to cross her path. She was always smiling, but it never reached her eyes. When our gazes met across a room, her lips would curl into a smirk that made my stomach twist.

She knew she had me cornered, and she wanted me to remember it.

But the most unnerving thing was the shift between her and Nicholas. He was colder, distant. I noticed the way his jaw tightened when she touched his arm, the way he didn’t lean into her kisses anymore. He didn’t even pretend to laugh at her jokes. It was subtle, but it was there. A tension that simmered just beneath the surface. And then, one evening, it all came to a head.

I was in the library, organizing the collection of vintage books that hadn’t been touched in years. The smell of leather and paper filled the air, the soft light from the desk lamp casting a warm glow over the room. I liked it there. It was quiet, out of the way — a place where I could breathe without feeling like the walls were closing in. But my peace didn’t last long.

The door opened behind me, the sound of footsteps echoing against the hardwood floor. I froze, my hands stilling over the spine of an old copy of Pride and Prejudice. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. His presence filled the room like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting.

“(Y/N).”

His voice was low, rough, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I forced myself to stay calm, to keep my hands steady as I slid the book back into place. “Yes?” I asked, my voice soft as I turned around to face him.

Nicholas glanced over his shoulder and locked the door before crossing the room toward me in a quick few strides.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended, though my heart pounded against my ribs.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, Nicholas closed the distance between us until he stood just a foot away. His dark eyes burned with intensity, and the tension rolling off him was palpable. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said finally, his voice low but firm. 

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the bookshelf behind me as though it could anchor me. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” I lied, my voice trembling slightly. “I’ve just been… busy.”

“Don’t bullshit me, (Y/N),” he snapped, his tone cutting through the quiet like a knife. “You won’t look at me, you barely say a word when we’re in the same room, and now you’re hiding out in the library. What the hell is going on?”

My chest tightened, and I glanced away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing,” I said weakly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nicholas reached out, his fingers brushing my chin as he tilted my face up, forcing me to look at him. “Talk to me, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less intense. He leaned in then, peppering my face in soft, tentative kisses, maybe hoping that his kisses might reassure me that I could talk to him, but I couldn’t.

I jerked back slightly, shaking my head as my heart raced. “Nic, stop,” I said, my voice breaking.

His brow furrowed, and the confusion in his dark eyes made my chest ache. I hesitated, my heart racing as I searched his face. He was everything I shouldn’t want, everything I should have let go of years ago. But the truth was, I didn’t want to let go. Our past few trysts were everything I wanted. But then, the image of Valerie flashed inside my mind. Her threats. That evil smile she only reserved for me.

I closed my eyes. “I need you to go back out there,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Nicholas froze, his breath catching as he stared at me, his dark eyes searching mine like he was trying to make sense of my words. His hands were still on my face, his body pressed so close I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“What?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You need to go back out there, Nic,” I said again, my voice trembling but resolute. “We can’t do this anymore,” I whispered as my gaze fell to the floor.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he was going to argue, to push back the way he always did when he didn’t get what he wanted. But then his shoulders sagged, and the fight seemed to drain out of him.

“Why?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Why the fuck are you pushing me away?”

I took a shaky breath, every nerve in my body screaming at me to say the truth, to tell him everything. But I couldn’t. The weight of Valerie’s threat loomed over me, heavy and suffocating. My mom’s face flashed in my mind, the way she’d look if she lost everything because of me. I couldn’t risk it.

“You have a fiancée,” I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt. “That’s why—“

Nicholas’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes blazing with frustration. “Don’t give me that. You know how I feel about you, (Y/N). I know how you feel about me, baby. What happened? What changed?”

“What we do… it’s not right,” I said, my hands trembling. “You’re supposed to be marrying—”

“She’s lying to me,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Fuck, I know she is. I don’t know about what or why, but I know she is.”

I froze, my breath catching as his words sank in. His dark eyes bored into mine, searching for answers I couldn’t give him. Of course, he caught my change in demeanor, he always did.

“Is that what this is about? (Y/N), do you know something? Did she say anything to you?” he asked, his voice softer now but no less intense.

I hesitated, my heart pounding as I weighed my options. I wanted to tell him the truth, to expose Valerie for the liar she was. But her threat hung over me like a guillotine, the weight of what I — my mom — stood to lose pressing down on my chest.

“No,” I whispered finally, my voice breaking.

Nicholas’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he stepped back slightly, studying me with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “Don’t lie to me, (Y/N),” he said, his voice low and sharp. “You’re not this good at hiding things — not from me.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, as if that could shield me from the intensity of his gaze. “I’m not lying,” I said quietly, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a moment, he just stared at me, his dark eyes burning with unspoken words. Then he let out a sharp exhale, raking a hand through his hair. “She’s gotten to you, hasn’t she?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with a mix of anger and pain. “What did she say?”

“She didn’t say anything,” I insisted. “I just… I can’t do this anymore, Nic.”

Nicholas froze, his chest rising and falling as he tried to rein in his frustration. He stepped back, running a hand down his face before letting it fall to his side. “You never give up easily, (Y/N). You promised me you wouldn’t give up on us. Why are you doing this?”

I stared at him, my heart breaking under the weight of his plea. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t risk everything for a truth that might not even set us free.

“Please, Nic,” I said, my voice trembling. “Just let it go, okay?”

Nicholas stared at me, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and frustration. For a moment, I thought he was going to argue, to push me for answers. But then he exhaled sharply, stepping back. His gaze lingered, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name, and for a moment, I saw the boy I used to know — the one who used to climb through my bedroom window or sneak me into his house and make me laugh until I couldn’t breathe, the one who made me believe in love, even when it hurt.

“Fine,” he said, his voice clipped. “If that’s how you want it.”

He turned and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence that followed was deafening, and I sank into the nearest chair, my head in my hands as the tears finally spilled over.

I had done the right thing. The only thing I could do. But it didn’t feel right. It felt like I’d just lost him all over again.

I stayed there in the silence of the library for what felt like hours, staring blankly at the rows of untouched books. My tears had dried, leaving my cheeks stiff and my eyes sore, but the ache in my chest refused to let up. I had pushed him away, again, but this time it felt irreversible.

Eventually, the muffled hum of voices from the main living areas reminded me that I didn’t have the luxury of hiding forever. I forced myself to stand, smoothing down my skirt and wiping my face as I stepped back into the hallway.

As I made my way toward the living room, my heart sank at the sound of familiar voices drifting toward me. Mrs. Chavez, with her warm, commanding tone, was deep in conversation with an event planner’s crisp voice, discussing fabrics and color schemes. I considered turning around, but it was too late. They were right in my path.

When I entered, Mrs. Chavez glanced up first, her smile jovial, “Oh, (Y/N)! Come look at the concepts for the gender reveal party I’m throwing for Nicholas and Valerie,” she excitedly waved me over.

I hesitated for a moment, the words “gender reveal party” hanging heavy in the air. My feet felt like lead as I moved toward the table where Mrs. Chavez and the planner were seated. She gestured to the seat beside her, her smile warm and inviting, but I could feel my pulse quickening.

“It’s going to be beautiful,” Mrs. Chavez said, her voice brimming with excitement as she tapped on a sketch of a grand garden setup. “I’ve already ordered the custom cake, and the florist is bringing in peonies next week.”

I nodded, my throat tight as I sat down. The sketches in front of me blurred together, my mind racing with the memory of Valerie’s words: “I’m not pregnant. Not yet.”

Mrs. Chavez studied me for a moment, her eyes softening. “You’re usually so excited about parties,” she said gently, tilting her head. “Is everything okay?”

Just then, the planner stepped away, sensing the shift in the room. I forced a smile, nodding quickly. “I’m fine.”

She reached out, resting a hand on mine. “You’ve been working so hard. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you do.”

Her kindness was almost unbearable, the weight of her words pressing down on me like a stone. I swallowed hard, nodding again as I focused on the sketches in front of me.

“You know,” Mrs. Chavez began, her tone thoughtful, “I’ve always admired your strength, (Y/N). Even when you were a teenager, you had this quiet determination about you. It’s one of the reasons I was so happy to have you back here.”

I glanced up at her, surprised by the shift in her tone. Her gaze was warm but piercing, as though she could see right through me.

“I used to think…” She trailed off, her smile faint but knowing. “Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t have been surprised if I might’ve been planning all of this for you in some other lifetime.”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, the weight of her insinuation crashing over me. My stomach twisted as I struggled to keep my composure, my fingers gripping the edge of the table.

Mrs. Chavez’s smile remained gentle, her tone casual, but her eyes never left mine. “You and Nicholas were always so close back then,” she continued, her voice light but deliberate.

My breath hitched, but I quickly masked it with a laugh that sounded too forced, even to my own ears. “Nicholas was—he’s always been kind to everyone,” I said, my voice shaking slightly.

She hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair as if considering my words. “Kind, yes,” she agreed. “But with you, it was different. I thought it was sweet.”

I felt my heart hammering in my chest, my hands trembling as I tried to focus on the sketches in front of me. “That was a long time ago,” I said quietly, avoiding her gaze.

She reached for her teacup, her movements graceful as ever. “You know, (Y/N), it’s okay to hold onto feelings from the past. Sometimes, they never really leave us.”

My head snapped up at her words, my eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, I saw something in her expression — a flicker of understanding.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said quickly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

She smiled knowingly. “You’re a terrible liar. You always were.” Her tone was gentle, but the weight of her words made it impossible to breathe.

“Mrs. Chavez,” I started, my voice trembling. “I—”

She held up a hand, silencing me with a look that was both kind and firm. “Listen to me, (Y/N),” she said, her voice softening. “Whatever is happening now — whatever has happened before — I want you to know that you are important to this family.”

Her words were like a lifeline I didn’t know I needed, but they also left me feeling exposed, as though she could see every tangled thread of my life unraveling. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and nodded, though I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Chavez leaned forward slightly, her hands folded neatly on the table as she studied me with an intensity that was both comforting and unnerving. “You’re a good person, (Y/N),” she said softly.

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, the truth in them cutting through my carefully constructed walls. I wanted to tell her everything — about Valerie’s lies, her threats, and the unbearable weight of keeping it all inside. But the fear of what I stood to lose kept me silent.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, my voice trembling as I glanced down at the sketches, unable to look her in the eye.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against mine in a gesture of quiet support. “You don’t have to say anything,” she said gently.

The sincerity in her voice made my chest ache, and for the first time in days, I felt a flicker of hope — a small, fragile light breaking through the darkness. I nodded again, unable to trust my voice as a lump formed in my throat.

Mrs. Chavez smiled, her expression warm and understanding. “Now,” she said, her tone shifting back to its usual brightness, “how about you go and take a breather, hm? I’m gonna need you and your mom’s opinions on balloons later.”

I nodded, managing a small smile despite the turmoil swirling inside me. “Of course, Mrs. Chavez. Thank you.”

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, and I could see the unspoken concern in her gaze. But she didn’t press. Instead, she reached for another sketch, her attention shifting back to the plans in front of her as she called the event planner back inside.

I stood, my legs feeling shaky as I pushed the chair back and stepped away from the table. The walls of the estate suddenly felt too close, the air too thick. I needed to get outside, to breathe, to clear my head.

The garden was quiet when I stepped outside, the hum of activity inside the house fading into the background. I walked aimlessly, my fingers brushing against the hedges as I tried to make sense of the chaos inside me. Mrs. Chavez’s words played on a loop in my mind, her knowing tone, her gentle reassurance.

She knew. Maybe not everything, but enough to suspect something wasn’t right. And yet, instead of judgment, she’d offered me compassion, a lifeline I hadn’t expected.

I stopped by the fountain, the sound of trickling water soothing the storm in my chest. My reflection in the rippling surface looked foreign, my face pale and my eyes clouded with uncertainty. I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Pull it together,” I whispered to myself.

But as much as I tried to convince myself, the weight of the secrets I was carrying felt unbearable. Every moment I stayed silent, I felt like I was betraying not just Nicholas, but also Mrs. Chavez, my mom, and even myself.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, lost in my thoughts, when a voice broke through the silence.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

I turned sharply, my stomach dropping to my feet. Valerie stood there with her arms crossed, a smirk curling her lips. Her eyes gleamed with a cold satisfaction, as if she’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t.

I threw my head back and looked up at the sky, as if I was pleading the universe for mercy. How many heavy conversations could I have in one day? “What do you want, Valerie?” I asked, my voice sharp.

Valerie let out a soft, mocking laugh, as if she found my frustration amusing. “Relax, (Y/N). I just wanted to remind you how you’ve been doing a pretty good job staying out of my way so far. I’d hate to see you ruin that.”

I took a deep sigh, my shoulders slumping, “Look, I’m not in the mood right now. I get it, okay? I’ll stay out of your way.”

Valerie tilted her head, her smirk widening as if she found my resignation amusing. “Good,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension.

My jaw clenched, anger bubbling beneath the surface, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “Is that all?” I asked, my voice flat.

She pursed her lips in triumph. “For now,” she said before turning on her heel and walking back into the house.

I watched her retreating figure until she disappeared through the tall French doors. My chest felt tight, like a rubber band stretched to its limit, ready to snap. My fists clenched involuntarily at my sides as the rage simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. Every word she spoke was another brick added to the wall I was building around myself, trapping me in a web of lies and threats. And yet, I couldn’t seem to find a way out without everything crumbling around me.

The days leading up to the gender reveal party weren’t any easier. Tension hung thick in the air, palpable enough to choke on. There were a few bumps in the party planning, so Mrs. Chavez was frazzled about the details, having to find a different florist and needing Paolo to take over for the catering company that dropped out of the event at the last possible moment.

I was avoiding Nicholas like the plague, or maybe he was avoiding me, too. I hadn’t really talked to him since our conversation in the library, and if I did, it was polite and professional. Though, I could sense the hurt in his eyes every time I did. Valerie, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on the chaos. She floated through the house with an air of smug confidence, her voice carrying easily as she commanded staff and fussed over every detail of the party.

By the time the day of the party finally arrived, I was on full-on autopilot mode. My nerves were already frayed from days of walking on eggshells and dodging both Nicholas and Valerie, but I didn’t want what had happened to affect my performance at work. So, I plastered on the most polite smile I could muster and got to helping set up for the party.

It was an hour before the allotted time on the invitation. The backyard was a flurry of activity as staff hurried to have everything ready before the first guests could arrive. Paolo and his team of hired underlings were all rushing to get the last of the desserts ready on time. Maria and I were in charge of helping set up all of the tables while the rest of the sub-contracted decorators were being overseen by my mom and the event planner Mrs. Chavez had hired.

So far, the backyard looked just about done. The extravagant pink and blue balloon archways and garland adorned every entryway and path leading guests toward the heart of the event. The main attraction was the centerpiece fountain, transformed into a cascading display of pink and blue hydrangeas, their soft petals spilling into the water like a fairytale come to life.

Strings of fairy lights were woven through the garden’s trellises and wrapped around the ancient oaks, casting a warm, inviting glow as the sun began its slow descent. At the far end of the garden, a dessert table was the picture of decadence. Towering macaron pyramids in alternating hues of pink and blue flanked a massive tiered cake, the top tier covered in edible glitter and crowned with a gold question mark. Miniature cupcakes, chocolate-covered strawberries, and bite-sized éclairs filled the table, their intricate designs reflecting the party’s color scheme.

The smell of fresh blooms mixed with the tantalizing aroma of Paolo’s creations wafting from the catering station. His team was arranging trays of hors d’oeuvres on a smaller table nearby, each bite-sized piece meticulously plated with edible flowers and tiny garnishes.

Around the fountain, small tables were arranged in concentric circles, draped in crisp white linens with golden accents. Each table was adorned with glass vases holding sprays of baby’s breath and roses dyed in pastel shades of pink and blue. The soft notes of instrumental music drifted from hidden speakers, adding to the serene yet celebratory atmosphere.

Maria and I worked silently as we adjusted chairs and made last-minute tweaks to the arrangements, our movements quick and efficient. I paused to straighten the centerpiece on a table closest to the fountain, my fingers brushing against the delicate petals of a pink peony. Despite the beauty surrounding me, the tight knot in my chest refused to loosen. The party was perfect. The party was nothing more than a celebration of a lie.

Across the garden, I caught a glimpse of Nicholas speaking with his mother near the dessert table. He was dressed impeccably, his dark suit tailored to perfection, but his posture was tense, his hands stuffed into his pockets as Mrs. Chavez gestured animatedly. He nodded occasionally, his gaze flickering over the setup before landing on me.

Our eyes met for a fleeting moment as I walked past to make my way toward the kitchen and check on Paolo, and I quickly looked away focusing on my strides, but Mrs. Chavez called out to me. “(Y/N)!”

Nicholas’s gaze awkwardly shifted away as I made my way over to them.

“(Y/N), can you check on the pedestals near the canopy and make sure none of them are easy to knock over?” She asked with a smile. I was about to nod my head and turn to do what she said but she stopped me, “Wait.” She turned her attention to Nicholas, “Sweetie, is Valerie almost back from her nail appointment? Did you ever get that ultrasound from her so we can put it up on the slideshow?”

Nicholas pulled out his phone from his pocket, “She should be on her way. Valerie said she’d call her doctor before she left, but I can call and ask if they sent it over to her. I think I have the doctor’s name somewhere,” he said as he scrolled away on his phone, tapping something, and bringing the phone up to his ear before making his way back inside the house.

Mrs. Chavez turned back to me, “Check the pedestals please.”

I nodded quickly and hurried away, relieved to have a reason to distance myself from Nicholas. As I walked toward the canopy, the tension in my chest only grew tighter. My hands were trembling as I reached the first pedestal, giving it a slight nudge to ensure it was steady. I did the same for the next. The next. And the next.

Some minutes later, Maria joined me, a smile on her face. “The decorations are so pretty, aren’t they?”

I let out a breathy laugh, “I’m more focused on making sure Paolo saves us some leftovers to take home.”

She laughed heartily. “You know he will. These people always prefer the drinks to the food.” Maria’s laughter was a small reprieve, her warm energy cutting through the tension that had been suffocating me all day.

I nodded, trying to match her lightness, even as the weight of everything threatened to pull me under. “Good,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m staking my claim on those macarons.”

“Smart,” Maria teased. “But don’t let Paolo catch you sneaking them early. He’s in full perfectionist mode right now.”

I chuckled softly, grateful for the distraction as we continued adjusting the pedestals. For a moment, it felt almost normal — like we were just two coworkers prepping for another lavish party. But then, the distant sound of a raised voice shattered the illusion.

“…in the actual fuck are you talking about?!”

My heart stopped. Nicholas’s voice, sharp and unmistakable, carried across the garden. I exchanged a worried glance with Maria, who had frozen mid-reach toward a floral arrangement. We both turned around and saw Nicholas stomping out into the backyard with Valerie following closely behind, her white dress flapping in the air.

Nicholas’s expression was thunderous, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked as if he might crack a tooth. “Valerie, stop lying to me!” he shouted, his voice booming over the chatter of the staff setting up.

Heads turned, tools paused mid-air, and the garden fell eerily silent except for the sharp clip of Valerie’s heels as she tried to keep up with him and the sound of the soft instrumental music, which was quickly deafened by somebody pausing the music from the DJ booth.

“Nicholas, please!” she called after him, her voice desperate but still laced with that performative sweetness that grated on my nerves. “Can we talk about this inside?”

“No, we’re talking about it now,” he snapped, spinning around to face her. His dark eyes burned with anger as he gestured around the lavish setup. “You expect me to stand here and smile for a fucking gender reveal when you’re not even fucking pregnant? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

Gasps rippled through the staff, whispers breaking out like wildfire. I felt my stomach drop as Valerie froze, her face draining of color before twisting into something uglier — rage and fear warring beneath her perfect façade.

“Nicholas,” she hissed, her tone sharp and low as her eyes darted around at the onlookers. “You’re making a scene.”

“I’m the one making a scene?” Nicholas shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Valerie straightened her posture, her mask slipping back into place as she tried to regain control. “Where’s this even coming from, Nic?”

Nicholas let out a sharp laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “I called your OB/GYN to ask about the ultrasound. They didn’t even know who the fuck I was talking about!” His voice cracked on the last word, the raw betrayal evident in his tone.

Valerie’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she quickly composed herself, adopting an air of indignant disbelief. “You must’ve called the wrong office or—“

“Cut the bullshit, Valerie!” Nicholas roared, his voice booming and echoing off the garden walls. His fists clenched at his sides as he took a step closer, his dark eyes blazing. “You’re not fucking pregnant. You let my family do all of this shit for you over a fucking lie!”

The staff froze, their eyes darting between Nicholas and Valerie, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Maria tugged lightly on my arm, silently urging me to step back, but I was rooted to the spot, my pulse thundering in my ears.

Valerie faltered, her perfect composure slipping as her gaze flickered toward the staring crowd. Then, like a cornered animal, she turned the blame outward. “You want to talk about lies?” she spat, her voice trembling as she pointed an accusatory finger in my direction. “Ask her!”

I froze, my breath catching as every eye turned toward me. Nicholas’s gaze snapped to mine, his expression a storm of anger and confusion.

“What the fuck is she talking about?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“I—” My throat tightened, my words choking on the sheer weight of the moment.

Valerie pressed on, sensing her opportunity. “(Y/N) knew and didn’t say anything,” she continued, her voice gaining strength. Valerie sneered, turning her venomous glare toward me. “She’s known for days, Nicholas. Ask her why she kept her mouth shut.”

Nicholas’s gaze burned into me, a mix of anger and betrayal flashing in his dark eyes. “(Y/N), tell me what she’s talking about.” His voice was tight, barely controlled, but his tone cut through me like a knife.

The air around me felt suffocating, my chest tightening as Nicholas’s eyes bore into mine. Everyone was watching — Maria, the staff, even Paolo who had stepped out of the kitchen with a tray of hors d’oeuvres, his sharp gaze fixed on the unfolding chaos. I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. From behind Nicholas and Valerie, I could see my mom and Mrs. Chavez embracing each other and clutching at their necklaces as they watched everything unfold.

“She threatened me,” I finally choked out, my voice trembling but clear enough to cut through the silence. “She said she’d have my mom and I fired if I said anything… if I stayed near you.”

Nicholas’s expression shifted instantly, his jaw tightening as a muscle in his cheek twitched. He turned his fiery gaze back to Valerie, his voice low and seething. “You threatened her?”

Valerie flinched but quickly recovered, shaking her head as her voice took on a pleading tone. “Nic, listen—”

“No! Don’t ‘Nic’ me,” he growled, stepping closer to her. “You lied about a pregnancy, manipulated my family, and now you’re fucking threatening (Y/N) to keep your dirty little secret? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Tears welled in Valerie’s eyes as she glanced around, her gaze darting to the stunned faces of the staff. “I didn’t mean for it to get this far,” she said, her voice breaking. “I was scared, okay? You were going to break up with me, and I—I didn’t know what else to do.”

Nicholas laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “So your solution was to fake a fucking baby? To trap me?”

Valerie clenched her fists at her sides, her perfect composure cracking under the weight of his rage. “You were going to leave me!” she shouted, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I could feel it. You were slipping away, and I—” She faltered, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “I love you, Nicholas.”

“Well, I never fucking loved you!” Nicholas spat, his voice like a whip.

The words hung in the air like a bomb, silencing even the faint whispers of the staff. Everyone froze, the weight of Nicholas’s confession crashing down like thunder. Valerie staggered back a step as if he’d physically struck her, her face pale and tear-streaked.

“What?” she whispered, her voice trembling, her bravado crumbling into raw, exposed pain.

Nicholas’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes cold and unyielding as he took a deliberate step toward her. “You heard me,” he said, his tone low and cutting. “I. Never. Loved. You. This—” he gestured between them with an almost violent motion—“was over a long fucking time ago.”

Valerie let out a choked sob, her carefully crafted image shattering in real-time. She reached for him, desperation etched across her face. “I—I just wanted to keep you, Nic. You don’t understand. I owe money. I—”

“I don’t give a shit about your excuses,” Nicholas snapped, stepping back out of her reach. “You don’t get to manipulate me or the people I care about. That's disgusting.”

Her face twisted with anger, the tears on her cheeks glistening in the sunlight. “And what about you, huh? Don’t think I didn’t know what was happening,” she spat, spinning around and pointing at me again. “You don’t think it’s disgusting that you were fucking the maid while you still thought I was pregnant?”

Nicholas froze, his body going rigid as the words left Valerie’s mouth. The crowd of staff that had gathered to watch the spectacle collectively held their breath, the air crackling with tension. My heart plummeted, the blood draining from my face as every set of eyes turned to me once more.

Just then, I felt Maria’s hand wrap around mine. Her grip was the only thing tethering me to reality, her presence a small but steady reminder that I wasn’t completely alone in this humiliating nightmare. My throat was dry, my chest tight as I fought to find the words — any words — that could possibly defuse the bomb Valerie had just dropped.

Nicholas’s gaze snapped to her, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. “What the fuck did you just say?” His voice was low and dangerous, the kind that made even the boldest person think twice.

“You heard me,” Valerie spat, her lips curling into a venomous smile despite the tears streaking her face. “You think you’re so fucking righteous, Nic, but you’re just as bad as I am. Fucking the help while I was here, pretending to build a life with you?”

Nicholas took a slow step toward her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His entire body radiated fury, the kind that felt like it might explode at any second. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that,” he said, his voice a deadly calm that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Oh, please,” Valerie sneered, taking a step back but refusing to back down completely. “She knew exactly what she was doing.”

“That’s enough,” Nicholas growled, his voice rising as his self-control started to slip. “You’re not fucking dragging her into this because you can’t handle the fact that you’re a manipulative, lying piece of shit.”

Valerie laughed bitterly, her mascara smudging as the tears continued to flow. “Oh, so now you’re defending her? After everything? God, you’re fucking unbelievable.”

Nicholas closed the gap between them, his face inches from hers. “You’re done,” he said coldly. “Pack your shit and get the fuck out of my house.”

Valerie’s face twisted in rage, her tear-streaked cheeks flushed with anger. “You don’t get to just kick me out like that!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “I’ve been here for you through everything, Nicholas! Your career, your fucking family drama—”

Nicholas’s laugh was cold, sharp as a blade. “Spare me the goddamn speech. You didn’t give a fuck about me. Now, get the fuck out before I call the police.”

Valerie blinked, her bravado faltering for the first time. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You wouldn’t—“

“Try me,” Nicholas interrupted, his voice low and lethal. His dark eyes were unyielding, daring her to push him further. 

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the sound of the breeze rustling through the garden seemed to fade as everyone watched the scene unfold. Valerie stood frozen, her hands trembling as they instinctively moved toward the massive diamond ring on her finger.

Her face crumpled, a sob escaping her lips as she fumbled to pull the ring from her finger. It slipped off easily, catching the evening sunlight as she held it out to him with trembling hands.

Nicholas didn’t even glance at it. “Keep it. Pawn it. I don’t give a shit. Just get the fuck out.”

Her hand dropped to her side, the ring clenched tightly in her fist as tears streamed down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Finally, with a trembling breath, she turned and stalked toward the house, her heels clicking against the stone path like gunshots in the heavy silence.

Nicholas watched her retreating figure, his chest heaving as he tried to rein in his emotions. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, his fists still clenched at his sides. When she disappeared through the doors, he turned, his dark eyes immediately finding mine.

My stomach twisted as his gaze bore into me, an unspoken storm of emotions swirling in his expression—anger, frustration, hurt. He took a step toward me, and I instinctively stepped back, my breath hitching. Maria quickly squeezed my hand then before leaving my side and joining Paolo outside the kitchen door.

“Nicholas, I—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a bitter laugh as he paced a few steps away before turning back to face me. “I asked you point-blank if you knew anything. You fucking knew this whole time, and you didn’t tell me.”

My breath hitched as I met his gaze, the weight of his anger like a physical blow. “I—I wanted to,” I stammered, my voice shaking. “But she—“

“Threatened you,” he finished, his voice dripping with disdain. “I heard that the first time. But so what? That was enough to stop you? After everything we’ve been through, (Y/N), you didn’t think you could trust me enough to tell me the fucking truth?”

His words hit me like a slap, and I felt my eyes sting with tears. “It wasn’t just about me,” I said, my voice breaking. “She threatened my mom, Nic. Her job — everything.”

Nicholas’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, his hands on his hips as he took a deep, shaky breath. “You should’ve come to me,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less strained. “I could’ve protected you.”

“I didn’t want to put you in that position,” I said softly, my voice trembling. “And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Worse?” Nicholas turned back to me, his dark eyes filled with raw frustration. “How the fuck could it have been worse than this?” (Y/N), I could’ve handled this days ago if you’d just told me!

My chest ached, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe under the weight of his words. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging as if the fight had drained out of him. “I can’t do this right now,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. 

The staff remained frozen, their eyes wide as they processed what had just unfolded. Nicholas looked around, his chests heaving. “Everybody, go inside please,” he closed his eyes and lazily waved his hand at his side.

Maria, standing near the kitchen door, nodded sharply and began ushering the others inside, herding them like sheep. Paolo shot me a look—concern and something else, maybe pity—before clearing his throat sharply. “You heard him. Let’s move,” he barked, his voice brisk but professional, cutting through the tension like a knife. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse, their footsteps echoing against the stone paths as they filed back into the house.

Nicholas’s gaze stayed locked on me. His gaze was cold, unrelenting, and it made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for. The last time I’d seen that same look in his eyes, the same mixture of pain and anger, was on the night he left for Los Angeles, when we had argued in this very spot.

The garden was bathed in the warm glow of golden hour, the sunlight filtering through the treetops in soft beams. It was the same garden where Nicholas and I had shared stolen moments, whispered dreams, and a hundred quiet kisses. But it felt different. The world felt too still, too calm, considering the storm brewing between us. I could hear the distant hum of crickets, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, but it all felt muted—like my senses were dulled by the ache in my chest as I stared at him.

Nic stood in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture tense. His jaw was tight, his dark eyes unreadable, and for the first time since I’d known him, he felt like a stranger.

“So, that’s it?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “You’re just… ending things?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging slightly. “(Y/N), this isn’t easy for me. You think I want to do this?”

“Then don’t!” I snapped, the words bursting out of me before I could stop them. “If it’s so hard, then don’t fucking do it, Nic! We can make this work.”

His gaze softened for a moment, but then he shook his head, his expression hardening again. “I can’t. I’ve thought about this a hundred different ways, and it always ends the same. If I stay, I’ll end up resenting you. And if I go and we try to hold on, I’ll end up hurting you. Either way, you lose.”

“Let me decide that!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “God, Nicholas, don’t you get it? I don’t care about the risk. I want to try. I want us to work.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply as if trying to steady himself. “You think I don’t want that too?” he said quietly, his voice low but laced with frustration. “I do, (Y/N). I want it so fucking badly it hurts. But I can’t give you what you deserve right now. Not when I’m about to dive headfirst into… all of this.”

“Into what?” I demanded, my chest heaving. “Into auditions and callbacks and God knows what else? Nic, you don’t have to go through that alone. I’m right here. I’m always right here.”

“That’s the problem,” he muttered, almost to himself. He looked at me then, his eyes burning with a mix of anguish and determination. “I don’t want you waiting around for me while I figure my shit out. You deserve more than that.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I deserve!” I yelled, the tears I’d been holding back finally spilling over. “You’re not doing this for me. You’re doing it for yourself. So don’t stand there and act like you’re some kind of martyr.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Maybe I am doing it for myself,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

I laughed bitterly. “You’ve spent all summer acting like everything was perfect, like—like what we had actually mattered, and two months ago, you told me that I should go with you and now you’re just walking away? Why the fuck did you even bother with me, Nic? Was I just some good fuck to you? Just some hometown fling before you head off to bigger and better things?”

His face twisted with hurt, and he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “Don’t you fucking say that,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You know that’s not what this was. You know you mean more to me than that.”

“Do I?” I challenged, stepping closer until we were inches apart. My chest heaved with anger, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. It feels like you’ve been stringing me along all summer, letting me fall for you, just so you could rip the rug out from under me when it was convenient.”

Nicholas’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of my words had physically hit him. “That’s not what I was trying to do,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then what the fuck were you trying to do, Nic?” I demanded, my voice cracking as the tears I’d been holding back spilled over. “Because I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can look at me like I’m your whole world one minute and then tell me you’re leaving the next.”

He sighed, his hands raking through his hair as he took a step back. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said finally, his voice filled with raw emotion. “That’s why I can’t do this. I can’t give you what you deserve right now, (Y/N). Not while I’m chasing this dream. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Fair?” I echoed, my voice trembling with disbelief. “You think this is fair? Breaking my heart the night before you leave?”

“I’d rather break it now than let you waste your time on someone who can’t give you what you need,” he said, his voice tight. “I can’t be what you need right now, (Y/N). I can’t be here. And you deserve better than that.”

“I don’t want better,” I said, my voice breaking as I stepped closer to him, my hands trembling as I reached for his. “I want you. I don’t care if it’s hard or messy. I want to make this work, Nic. Why won’t you let me?”

His hands closed over mine, his grip firm but trembling as he looked down at me, his dark eyes filled with a pain that mirrored my own. “Because you deserve someone who can give you all of himself,” he said softly. “And right now, I can’t. Acting is all I’ve ever wanted, and if I stay here — if I try to juggle this and you — I’m going to end up failing at both.”

I shook my head, the tears streaming down my face as I tried to pull my hands away, but he held on, his grip tightening as if he couldn’t bear to let go. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” I said, my voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “You don’t get to tell me what I deserve.”

“Maybe I don’t,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m doing it anyway. Because I love you too much to half-ass this, (Y/N). And I’m scared that if I try to hold on to you while I’m chasing this, I’m going to lose you anyway.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt my knees buckle beneath the weight of them. “You’re already losing me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Nic’s jaw tightened, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he cupped my face in his hands. “I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “And it’s killing me.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine as his thumbs brushed away my tears. For a moment, we just stood there, the silence between us filled with everything we couldn’t say. And then he kissed me, soft and slow, like he was trying to memorize the feel of me before he walked away.

When he pulled back, I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. He let go of my hands, stepping back as if putting distance between us was the only way he could follow through with what he’d just said.

“I hate you,” I mumbled.

Nic flinched as if my words physically hit him, his shoulders sagging under the weight of them. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his dark brown eyes locked on mine, filled with a mixture of regret and anguish. “I hate me too,” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible but laced with raw honesty.

The admission twisted something inside me. I wanted to scream at him, hit him, anything to make him feel a fraction of the pain that was tearing me apart. But instead, I just stood there, trembling and broken, watching as he turned and walked away.

I stayed in the garden long after he disappeared, the warmth of the summer night doing little to thaw the icy grip around my chest. When I finally found the strength to move, I felt hollow, like he’d taken a piece of me with him when he left.

The sound of Nicholas clearing his throat pulled me back to the present. “You, too, (Y/N),” he spoke softly.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. None of this was. I wanted to scream, to plead, to explain. But I couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat, choked by the weight of everything I hadn’t said when it mattered most.

I nodded once, my movements stiff and mechanical. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I turned on my heel and began walking toward the house, the sound of my footsteps on the stone path feeling unnaturally loud in the heavy silence.

And just like that, the party was over before it even started.

As I reached the threshold of the French doors, I hesitated, glancing back over my shoulder. Nicholas was still standing there, his back to me, his hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. He looked… broken. And I hated that I was part of the reason why.

I opened my mouth to say something, but the words died in my throat. What could I possibly say that would make any of this better? So I turned away, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind me.

The air inside the house was tense, the energy crackling with the weight of what had just transpired. Staff members bustled about, their voices hushed as they pretended not to glance in my direction. I quickly ducked my head and made my way to the supply closet at the base of the stairs, desperate for a moment of solitude.

Once inside, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, my chest heaving as I fought to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. The small, dimly lit space felt like a sanctuary — a place where I could finally breathe, even if just for a moment.

I sank to the floor, my knees pulling to my chest as I buried my face in my hands. My mind raced with everything that had just happened, every word Nicholas had thrown at me, every ounce of his anger and betrayal. It played on a loop, each moment stabbing at my heart like a knife.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to storm out of this house and never look back. But more than anything, I wanted to go back in time and undo everything that had brought me to this moment.

My head jerked up as a faint knock came through the door. For a moment, I froze, my breath caught in my throat.

“Cara mia, are you in there?” Paolo’s voice muffled through.

I hesitated, wiping at my face. I planned on standing, but the door slowly cracked open before opening fully. I looked up to see Paolo, Maria, and my mom all at the door.

Their faces were a mix of concern and quiet understanding. My mom crouched down immediately, her arms opening as she settled on her knees in front of me. I didn’t even hesitate — I crumpled into her embrace, the dam finally breaking as the tears spilled over.

She wrapped me up tightly, her hand cradling the back of my head as I sobbed into her shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay,” she murmured softly, rocking me gently. “Let it out, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Maria crouched next to her, her usually bubbly demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. “(Y/N), you did the best you could,” she said quietly. “You were trying to protect your mom, protect yourself. Nobody can blame you for that.”

Paolo leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, but his expression wasn’t stern. It was softer than I’d ever seen it, his sharp features etched with something almost like sympathy. “That bitch,” he muttered, shaking his head. “She’s vile. Manipulative. None of this is on you, sweetie.”

I tried to speak, to explain, but the words got lost in the overwhelming tide of emotion. My mom held me tighter, her voice a soothing murmur as she whispered reassurances I barely registered through the sound of my own sobs.

“I didn’t want this to happen,” I finally choked out, my voice muffled against her shoulder. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You didn’t,” my mom said firmly, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes. Her own were glassy with unshed tears, her expression fierce. “You didn’t hurt anyone. That woman did. She’s the one who lied and threatened and created this mess — not you.”

Maria nodded, placing a hand on my knee. “She’s right. You’re not the villain here, (Y/N). You’re just caught in the middle of something none of us could’ve seen coming.”

Paolo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And Nicholas,” he added, his tone softening. “He’s hurt and angry now, sì, but he’ll see the truth eventually. Give him time.”

I wiped at my eyes, sniffling as I leaned back against the wall. My mom reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue, gently dabbing at my cheeks like she used to when I was little. Her touch was so tender, so grounding, that it almost made me cry all over again.

“Take a breath, sweetheart,” she said softly. “You’ve been carrying so much on your shoulders. Let us help you carry it now.”

I nodded weakly, taking a shuddering breath as I tried to calm the storm raging inside me. They stayed with me in the small, cramped closet, their presence a quiet reminder that I wasn’t alone, even in the middle of this nightmare.

After a few minutes, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the distinct voice of Mrs. Chavez. “Where is she?” she called out, her tone brisk but tinged with worry.

Paolo stepped out into the hall. “In here,” he said quietly, gesturing to the door.

Mrs. Chavez appeared a moment later, her usual grace and composure slightly shaken. Her gaze softened the moment she saw me huddled on the floor, and she crouched down beside my mom, her hand resting gently on my shoulder.

“Oh, darling,” she murmured, her voice warm and soothing. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea she was putting you through this.”

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes again. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered.

Mrs. Chavez’s expression tightened, her jaw clenching as she glanced toward the hallway where the chaos had unfolded. “It is my fault,” she said firmly. “I brought that woman into our lives, and I didn’t see her for what she really was. But that ends today.”

Her words carried a weight, a promise of action that I hadn’t realized I needed to hear. She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. “You’re not going anywhere, (Y/N),” she said firmly. “You and your mom are part of this family, and no one — not her, not anyone — will take that away from you.”

I nodded, the lump in my throat too big to speak around. My mom squeezed my hand, her own eyes shimmering with gratitude as she glanced at Mrs. Chavez.

“Thank you,” my mom whispered.

Mrs. Chavez offered a small, kind smile before turning back to me. “Take as much time as you need to collect yourself, sweetheart. We’ll handle everything else.”

Her words were a balm, a lifeline in the middle of the chaos. I nodded again, my chest loosening just a fraction as I realized I wasn’t as alone in this as I’d thought.

For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe, to lean into the support being offered to me. My mom’s hand remained on mine, steady and warm, while Maria gave me a reassuring nod, her bright eyes filled with quiet determination. Paolo lingered by the door, his sharp gaze scanning the hallway as though ready to intercept anyone who might disturb this fragile moment of calm.

Mrs. Chavez’s presence was a surprising comfort. I hadn’t expected her to take my side so firmly, especially given everything that had just unraveled. But her unwavering resolve gave me the strength to nod, to whisper, “Okay.”

She straightened, smoothing down her blouse as she glanced back at Paolo. “Gather the staff and let them know they’re dismissed for the evening,” she instructed. “They’ve worked hard enough for tonight; they can come back tomorrow to get rid of everything.”

Paolo nodded curtly, already stepping into the hall to carry out her orders.

“Maria,” Mrs. Chavez continued, her voice softening as she turned to her. “Could you help Mrs. (L/N) with some tea for (Y/N)? I think we all need a moment to regroup.”

Maria gave me a small smile before standing and gesturing to my mom. “Come on, let’s get you both something warm,” she said gently.

My mom hesitated, her grip on my hand tightening slightly as though reluctant to leave me. But I managed a faint smile, squeezing her hand back. “I’ll be okay, Mom,” I said softly. “I promise.”

She searched my face for a moment before nodding, brushing a stray strand of hair from my forehead like she used to when I was a child. “We’ll be right back,” she murmured before standing and following Maria out of the room.

That left me with Mrs. Chavez, who remained crouched beside me, her eyes soft but steady as she studied me.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Chavez,” I whispered.

She gave me a sympathetic smile, “For what?”

I wiped away the salty mucus running down my nose with the collar of my uniform, “Nicholas and I…we were—“

Mrs. Chavez raised a hand gently, stopping me mid-sentence. Her expression remained calm, though her eyes softened with understanding. “Darling, stop,” she said quietly, her voice steady but kind. “I’m not here to judge you or demand explanations. I know my son, and I know his heart.” She paused, her gaze holding mine. “Whatever happened between you two, I can see it’s complicated. But I also see the way he looks at you. That’s not something I can ignore.”

My breath caught in my throat as her words sank in. I searched her face, expecting disappointment or anger, but found neither. Instead, there was only warmth and something that almost looked like pity.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

She let out a soft sigh, reaching out to take my hand in hers. “Life is messy, (Y/N). Love is messy. And sometimes, people find themselves in situations they never intended. That doesn’t make them bad people.” Her thumb brushed over my knuckles in a comforting gesture. “You’re not a bad person, (Y/N).”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I looked down at our joined hands, the weight of her words almost too much to bear. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Or you, or anyone.”

“I know you didn’t. Trust me, this house has always been full of whispers, lies, and drama. This isn’t the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last,” she said softly.

I nodded slowly, though her words didn’t erase the ache in my chest. “He hates me now,” I whispered, the tears threatening to spill over again.

Mrs. Chavez shook her head, her hand moving to gently tilt my chin up so I’d meet her gaze. “Nicholas doesn’t hate you,” she said, her tone steady and certain. “He’s angry, yes. Hurt. But hate? That boy has loved you for far too long to ever hate you.”

Her words soothed the raw wound inside me. But they also felt like a double-edged sword, a reminder of the complicated, messy love I shared with Nicholas.

“What do I do now?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Chavez sighed softly, her thumb brushing against the back of my hand in a reassuring gesture. “You give him time,” she said simply. “Time to process everything, time to heal. And when he’s ready, you show him that you’re still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago.”

I nodded, unable to speak as the lump in my throat grew tighter. Mrs. Chavez gave my hand one last squeeze before standing, her usual grace and composure returning as she smoothed her blouse once more

“Take as long as you need, okay?” she said, her tone gentle but firm.

I nodded again, my voice still caught somewhere between my chest and my throat. She offered me a small, reassuring smile before turning and leaving the room, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

I stayed on the floor for a while after Mrs. Chavez left, her words replaying in my mind. The knot in my chest loosened slightly, replaced by a strange, quiet determination. If she believed in me, if she thought I still had a place here, maybe — just maybe — I could believe it, too.

But it didn’t change the fact that Nicholas was still furious with me. And rightfully so. I had betrayed his trust, whether out of fear or misplaced loyalty to my family, and I couldn’t take that back. All I could do was hope that time, as Mrs. Chavez suggested, might help heal some of the wounds I’d caused.

I pulled myself to my feet, my legs shaky but steady enough to carry me back to the kitchen. The house was quieter now, the hum of activity from earlier replaced by an uneasy calm. When I stepped into the kitchen, my mom and Maria were waiting for me with steaming cups of tea, their expressions a mix of concern and relief.

“Here,” my mom said, pressing a cup into my hands. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

I nodded, taking a sip and letting the warmth spread through me. The tea did help, if only because it gave me something to focus on other than the turmoil swirling inside me.

Maria leaned against the counter, her arms crossed as she studied me. “What now?” she asked, her tone softer than usual.

I shrugged, setting the cup down and wrapping my arms around myself. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess I’ll just… stay out of his way for a while. Give him space.”

Maria nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered my words. “Maybe. But don’t let him push you away completely. Nicholas is stubborn, but he’s also human.”

My mom reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like she used to when I was a child. “You’re stronger than you think, sweetheart,” she said softly. “And you’re not alone in this.”

I smiled weakly, grateful for their support even if I didn’t feel entirely deserving of it. “Thanks, Mom,” I murmured.

Paolo poked his head into the kitchen then, his expression as sharp as ever. “No sign of that cagna,” he announced. “I think she left.”

“Good,” Maria muttered, her lips curling into a smirk. “About time she slithered out of here. I never liked her.”

Paolo’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at me. “You okay?”

I nodded, managing a small smile. “I’ll be fine,” I said, though the words felt more like a hope than a certainty.

He gave me a curt nod before disappearing back into the hallway, leaving me alone with my mom and Maria. I took another sip of tea, the warmth settling in my chest like a fragile shield against the storm that still raged inside me.

The next few days were a blur. The grand estate, usually so full of life and activity, felt quieter, the atmosphere heavy with tension. It seemed everyone was tiptoeing around the aftermath of the blowout, from the staff to Mrs. Chavez. Even Paolo had gone unusually silent, though his protective glares whenever someone mentioned Valerie were hard to miss.

I kept my head down, focusing on my tasks and doing my best to avoid Nicholas. I couldn’t face him—not yet. Every time I passed through the garden or the library or even the kitchen, my heart raced, half-expecting him to appear and demand answers I still wasn’t sure how to give.

Maria, ever the bright spot in my day, kept a close watch on me. She had a way of easing the tension with a quick joke or a simple squeeze of my hand when no one was looking. My mom, too, had become even more attentive, her concern etched into her features as she checked on me constantly.

But Nicholas? He was nowhere to be found, on the estate at least. He had gone back to Los Angeles, back to his place. And it didn’t take long for Valerie to end up winning in the end. She had ended up going to every tabloid that would hear her side of the story, and I bet she was paid pretty well for every single one.

“Valerie: ‘Nicholas Alexander Chavez Cheated On Me’”

“A Broken Engagement: The Truth Behind Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s Secret Affair”

“Hollywood Star Nicholas Alexander Chavez Caught in Love Triangle with Fiancée and Maid”

“Inside Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s Explosive Breakup”

The headlines were relentless, splashed across glossy pages and plastered on every celebrity gossip website. Photographs of Nicholas and Valerie at charity galas and red-carpet events were juxtaposed with grainy, invasive shots of the estate, Nicholas looking rough while out running errands, and exclusive images courtesy of Valerie. 

Her version of events dominated the headlines, painting herself as the tragic victim of a heartless actor and his manipulative fling with the “help.” The stories twisted every detail, skewing the truth into a salacious narrative that catered to gossip-hungry readers. The stories even dragged me into the spotlight, labeling me as everything from a conniving gold digger to an innocent pawn in Nicholas’s supposed “games.”

The narrative was clear: Nicholas was the cheating fiancé, Valerie the heartbroken victim, and I — the villain.

I avoided looking at the articles, but it was impossible to ignore the whispers among the staff, the way Paolo slammed down his phone and ranting in Italian in the kitchen after scrolling through social media. My mom banned any newspapers from the house, her protective instincts going into overdrive as she tried to shield me from the worst of it. Even Mrs. Chavez’s normally serene demeanor had shifted into something more fraught, her jaw tight as she made calls and spoke in hushed tones to her lawyer.

Maria, on the other hand, kept tabs on the media frenzy with a quiet determination. “Look, people are starting to turn on her,” she said one morning, setting her phone on the kitchen counter and showing me some tweets.

Apparently, Valerie’s attempts to gain sympathy were backfiring. Social media sleuths dug up old interviews and photos, piecing together a narrative of a woman who had been desperate for fame and willing to do whatever it took to keep it. Even some of the hired staff that were sub-contracted for the gender reveal had come out saying that Valerie was a liar. That’s when comments began flooding in, questioning her story and calling her out for her lies.

“Can’t believe she lied about her pregnancy!”

“Nicholas doesn’t owe her anything if she was faking a baby.”

“Team Nicholas all the way. She’s sketchy AF.”

Still, the damage was done. Nicholas’s name was dragged through the mud, and so was mine. He disappeared from the estate entirely, no doubt retreating to wherever he could escape the relentless glare of the media.

As for me, I kept my head down and worked as much as I could. I stayed out of sight whenever Mrs. Chavez entertained guests, avoided the staff gatherings, and did my best to pretend I wasn’t the unwitting center of a media circus.

But no matter how hard I tried to move on, the weight of it all lingered. Nicholas’s absence was a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong, every choice I’d made that led to this moment. And every time I glanced at the empty garden where it all came to a head, my chest tightened with a familiar ache.

It wasn’t until almost three weeks later that I finally saw him again. Mrs. Chavez had arranged for Nicholas to return to the estate to finalize some of the logistics with the family lawyers away from the paparazzi stalking him in Los Angeles. I didn’t know if it was intentional on her part or just sheer coincidence that she mentioned it while passing me in the hall, but either way, it felt like my last chance.

By the time his car pulled up to the driveway, the air outside was heavy with the promise of rain, clouds rolling in and casting shadows across the estate. I watched from the kitchen window as Nicholas stepped out, his movements stiff, his shoulders squared like he was bracing himself for a battle. My heart clenched at the sight of him, his face sharper, more guarded than I remembered. He looked tired in his plain white t-shirt and sweatpants, worn down by everything that had unfolded since that disastrous evening.

I stayed frozen as he disappeared into the house, my pulse thundering in my ears. I hadn’t thought beyond this moment — hadn’t planned what I’d say, how I’d approach him. I only knew I couldn’t let him leave again without trying to make things right.

I found him that night sitting by the pool, just as we both liked to do that entire summer all those years ago.

The night air was thick with humidity, the kind that clung to your skin and made every breath feel heavy. The estate was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the trees and the occasional chirp of a cricket. I hesitated at the edge of the garden, the faint glow of the pool lights illuminating Nicholas’s silhouette as he sat at the edge, his feet dangling over the side. A beer rested on the ground next to him, untouched.

I didn’t know what I was expecting — to find him pacing in frustration, to hear him yell at me again, to be met with indifference. But this? The quiet, vulnerable stillness of him caught me off guard.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, the sound of my footsteps muted by the damp grass then shuffled across the concrete. My footsteps were quiet, but he must have heard me because his head tilted slightly, though he didn’t look back. I stopped a few feet away, the pool’s reflection dancing on his face.

“Can I sit?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nicholas didn’t answer right away. He sat there, staring at the rippling water as if the answer he wanted might emerge from its depths. His jaw tensed, his dark eyes unreadable, but eventually, he nodded once, the movement barely perceptible.

I took it as permission and sank down beside him, keeping a careful distance. The concrete beneath me was cool, the faint smell of chlorine mingling with the earthy scent of petrichor. My heart pounded in my chest as the silence stretched between us, heavy and unyielding.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, the words trembling as they left my lips. “For not telling you. For all of it. So much could’ve been avoided if I just…” the words died on my tongue.

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. He turned to me then, his dark brown eyes piercing in the dim light. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“But I do,” I insisted, my chest tightening as I looked at him. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you, and I didn’t. I let her scare me, and I—”

“Baby,” he said softly, the word wrapping around me like a lifeline. His voice was strained, but the sharp edge it had carried before was gone. “I get it. Okay? I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

I blinked at him, my breath catching. “You… do?”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands as if trying to ground himself. “She’s a fucking piece of work,” he muttered, his gaze flicking back to the water. “And she knew exactly what to say to keep you quiet. She’s done it to me too, in her own way. Let’s just say there was a reason I was gonna break up with her before she…” he paused. “I just didn’t see it until it was too late.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “That doesn’t excuse what I did,” I whispered. “Or what I didn’t do.”

Nicholas turned to me again, his gaze softer now, though still heavy with emotion. “I’m not saying it does,” he said quietly. “But I also know you were trying to protect your mom, yourself.”

I nodded, my eyes stinging as I tried to hold back tears. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Nic. I swear I didn’t.”

He exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he reached through the space between us and raked his fingers through the back of my hair, his thumb repeatedly brushing back the hair near my temple. “I know, baby,” he murmured. “And I shouldn’t have screamed at you like that. Especially in front of everyone. Fuck, I was just…”

I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch and the quiet intimacy of the moment. For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension that had weighed on my chest began to ease.

I bit my lip. “You had every right to be angry, Nic,” I said. “I kept something from you that I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry.” When I opened my eyes again, Nicholas had scooted closer, closing the distance between us, and was watching me with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

He shook his head, “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t deserve that, (Y/N). Not after everything. I was never mad at you, not really. I was mad at myself. For letting her… I don’t know, take over my life. For letting her manipulate me for so long. I’m mad at her, at this whole fucking situation. But not you, baby. Never you.”

His words broke something inside me, and the tears I’d been holding back spilled over. I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch as my chest ached with a mix of relief and regret. “I’m so sorry, Nic,” I whispered. “It’s not your fault,” I said softly. “She’s the one that lied about being pregnant in the first place. It’s not your fault you chose to step up when it mattered.”

Nicholas let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head while brushing away the tears that spilled out of me with his thumb. “Yeah, well, I should’ve known better.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. He pulled me into his arms then, holding me close as I buried my face in his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear was a balm to my frayed nerves, a reminder that no matter how messy or complicated things got, we still had each other.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence between us heavy but not unbearable. I could feel the warmth of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing as he.

“No offense, but I never liked her,” I mumbled, wiping away my boogers, “Even before the fake pregnancy thing.”

His chest rumbled beneath my ear as he let out an audible laugh then, a genuine one. “You don’t say,” Nicholas replied, his tone light but with an edge of teasing. His laughter warmed me, a sound I hadn’t realized I missed so much. His hand stayed on my back, tracing slow, calming circles as he added, “What gave it away? The constant passive-aggressive digs or the terrifyingly fake smile?”

I pulled back slightly, my tears drying as I looked up at him. “Both. And the way she treated everyone like shit.” I sniffled, a wry smile tugging at my lips despite everything. “She wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Nicholas smirked, shaking his head. “You should’ve told her off way sooner.”

“I thought about it,” I admitted, letting out a soft laugh. “But I couldn’t defy the soon-to-be lady of the house now, could I?”

His smirk faltered, his expression softening as he cupped my cheek. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that, baby. Especially not because of me.”

“It wasn’t just because of you,” I said quickly, placing my hand over his. “I stayed because of my mom and Mrs. Chavez. And…” I hesitated, looking down before meeting his gaze again. “And maybe because I wasn’t ready to let go of this place. Of… you.”

Nicholas’s dark eyes searched mine, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek. “You don’t have to let go,” he murmured. “Not of us. Not anymore.”

I blinked up at him, my heart swelling with a fragile hope I hadn’t dared to feel before. “You mean that?”

He nodded, leaning down so his forehead rested against mine. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, (Y/N). But letting you go back then? That was the worst one, and I’m not making it again.”

My breath caught, the sincerity in his voice and the closeness of his touch grounding me. “I love you, Nic. So much. I never stopped. Never.”

Nicholas exhaled deeply, his fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck as he pulled me closer, his lips brushing softly against my forehead. “I never stopped loving you, too,” he murmured, his voice low and raw with emotion. “But you already knew that,” he smirked ever so slightly.

The rain began to fall in gentle droplets, cool against the humid air, but neither of us moved. The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body, and the truth we had both been too afraid to confront until now.

Nicholas tilted my chin up with his fingers, his dark brown eyes searching mine. “Can we start over?” he asked finally, his voice soft but filled with quiet hope.

My heart ached at the tenderness in his words, the vulnerability in his gaze. I nodded slowly, a small, shaky smile tugging at my lips.

Nicholas let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing as a faint smile crossed his lips. “Good,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face.

His lips found mine then, soft and tentative at first, as though testing the fragile bond between us. But when I didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his hands tightening around my waist as he pulled me flush against him. I melted into him, my fingers clutching at his shirt as the rain grew heavier, soaking us both.

The cool droplets mixed with the heat of his touch, the contrast igniting something wild and desperate within me. Nicholas groaned against my lips, his hands roaming over my back before settling on my hips, pulling me onto his lap. My skirt bunched around my thighs, the wet fabric clinging to my skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. All that mattered was him — his lips, his hands, the way he made me feel like the only person in the world.

His hands moved up, gripping the sides of my waist as he kissed me like it was the only thing tethering him to this earth. I shifted in his lap, straddling him, the fabric of my soaked skirt bunching between us. His mouth left mine to trail down my neck, his hot breath sending shivers through me despite the cool rain cascading over us.

“God,” Nicholas murmured against my skin, his voice rough and low. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed this? Missed you?”

I didn’t trust my voice to reply, not when his lips were doing things that made coherent thought impossible. Instead, I tilted my head to give him better access, my fingers threading through his damp hair. His hands roamed down, sliding beneath the hem of my shirt and brushing against the bare skin of my back, sending electric jolts straight to my core.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, his lips pausing just below my ear.

I let out a breathless laugh, threading my fingers through his damp hair as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot on my neck. “Right back at you, baby.”

He pulled back at the word, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “Say that again.”

“Baby,” I whispered, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his jaw.

He chuckled, low and throaty, the sound vibrating against my skin. I grabbed his face and pulled his lips back to mine. The kiss was urgent now, full of pent-up desire and weeks of tension finally snapping.

His hands gripped my thighs, sliding upward beneath the wet fabric of my skirt until his fingers found the edge of my panties.The sound of the rain grew louder, the rhythmic patter against the pool’s surface blending with our labored breathing and soft moans.

He shifted, guiding me back until I was lying flat against the wet concrete, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from both of us. His body covered mine, his weight pressing me down in the most delicious way as his hands continued their exploration, finding every inch of skin he could reach.

“Fuck,” he muttered against my lips, his voice raw with need. “I’ve been dying for this—dying for you.”

My fingers dug into his back as he kissed me with a hunger that felt almost feral, his hands tugging my soaked panties down my legs and tossing them aside. His lips found my collarbone, trailing wet kisses down my chest as his hand slid between my thighs, his touch igniting sparks everywhere he went.

I gasped, my head falling back against the concrete as his fingers explored, teasing and coaxing reactions from me that left me trembling. The rain kept falling, the cool droplets mingling with the heat of our bodies, and the world beyond us faded away.

“I need you to promise me something,” he murmured, his voice low as his lips returned to mine.

“What?” I breathed, my voice shaky as I looked up at him. His dark brown eyes burned with intensity, his face inches from mine.

“Promise me you’ll never keep anything from me again,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I don’t care what it is. If something’s wrong, if someone’s fucking with you—I need to know.”

My chest ached at the raw vulnerability in his voice, the weight of his words settling heavily between us. “I promise,” I whispered, my hands framing his face. “I won’t keep anything from you ever again. You mean too much to me, Nic.”

His lips crashed into mine again, his relief palpable as he kissed me with a passion that left me breathless. “Good,” he murmured against my mouth. “Because I’d fucking move heaven and earth for you, (Y/N). Do you hear me? You’re my everything.”

My breath hitched at his words, the sheer intensity of his confession leaving me speechless. His forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with mine as the rain continued to fall in a relentless rhythm around us.

“You’re my everything, too,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.

His hands slid down my body, tracing every curve and hollow as if memorizing me all over again. When his fingers slipped between my thighs, I let out a soft gasp, my hips instinctively rising to meet his touch. He groaned against my lips, his breath hot and ragged as he murmured my name.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby,” he whispered, his forehead still resting against mine as his fingers moved in slow, torturous circles. “Missed the way you feel. The way you taste. The way you look at me like I’m the only man in the world.”

“You are,” I breathed, my voice trembling as I clung to him.

Nicholas froze at my words, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten. His fingers stilled for a moment, resting against me as he let out a shaky breath.

My hand came up to cradle his face, my thumb brushing over the sharp line of his jaw. “You’ve always been.”

A low, guttural sound escaped him, and he captured my lips in a searing kiss that left me dizzy. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him as his mouth claimed mine with a hunger that sent sparks of heat coursing through my body.

The rain fell harder, soaking us both to the skin, but neither of us cared. The world around us disappeared, leaving only the sound of our ragged breathing and the feel of his body pressing against mine. His hands roamed my body, exploring every inch of me as if rediscovering a treasure he thought he’d lost.

He leaned down, his lips trailing over my neck, my collarbone, leaving a fiery path in their wake. My back arched against the wet concrete, and he took the opportunity to push my shirt higher, exposing my damp skin to the cool night air. His lips followed, pressing kisses to my stomach, my ribs, his breath warm and teasing.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at me. His hands slid beneath my thighs, spreading them as he knelt between my legs. 

Before I could respond, his mouth replaced his fingers, and a cry escaped my lips as he teased me with his tongue. The intensity of his touch, the way he seemed to worship me, made my head spin. My hands tangled in his rain-soaked hair, pulling him closer as he sent wave after wave of pleasure crashing through me.

Nicholas’s hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. His mouth moved with a deliberate slowness that drove me wild, each flick of his tongue, every soft, teasing suck a reminder of how much he had missed me, how much he wanted me. The rain blurred my vision, mingling with the tears that slid down my face, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was him and the way he was unraveling me with every touch.

My breath hitched, my thighs trembling against his shoulders. I tried to push up, to chase the feeling building inside me, but his hands held me down firmly. “Not so fast,” he whispered, his lips brushing over my sensitive skin.

I whimpered, my fingers gripping his hair as he continued his slow, torturous rhythm. My body writhed against the slick concrete, a desperate plea for more, for release. But Nicholas took his time, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulled from me.

“Please,” I gasped, my voice breaking as I tugged at his hair. “Nic, I need—”

He lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The sight of him—his rain-drenched hair, the water dripping down his sharp jaw, and the raw hunger in his gaze—made my stomach flip. “You need what, baby?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “Tell me.”

“You,” I breathed, the word slipping out before I could think. “I need you, Nic. Please.”

He sat on his knees then, his body towering over mine, rainwater dripping from his hair onto my flushed skin. His wet white shirt clung to every peak and valley of his sculpted muscles, his nipples visible through the soaked fabric.

Nicholas’s gaze darkened as his hands moved to the hem of his soaked shirt, peeling it away and revealing the smooth, golden skin beneath. The rain traced rivulets down his chest, following the sharp contours of his muscles. His body, damp and glistening, hovered over mine like a storm ready to break.

I reached for him, my hands trailing up his arms and across his chest as if grounding myself to him. My fingers skimmed over the moles on his torso — marks I’d memorized long ago. His breath hitched when I touched him, and for a moment, the raw vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

I sat up, planting kisses near his naval and working my way upwards. He embraced me then, lifting us both and moving to a nearby chaise lounge so we could escape the unforgiving concrete beneath us.

The rain continued to fall, heavier now, soaking every inch of us as he settled me onto the lounge. He slipped my skirt off and wrapped my legs around him, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down to reveal his hardened length. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he leaned down, capturing my lips in a kiss that was both tender and full of unspoken urgency.

The rain fell around us, creating a rhythm that matched the rising tension between our bodies. Nicholas pressed his forehead against mine, his hand sliding between us to guide himself to my entrance.

“Slow, please,” I whispered but still audible over the heavy patter of the rain.

Nicholas stilled, his dark eyes locked on mine as he nodded, the raw emotion in his gaze making my chest tighten. He shifted closer, his hands framing my face as if grounding himself. “Slow,” he repeated, his voice hoarse, reverent. “I promise, baby.”

His lips found mine again, softer this time, the urgency giving way to something deeper, more deliberate. I felt the tip of him press against me, a teasing pressure that sent a shiver down my spine. He groaned against my mouth, his hands trembling slightly as he moved with painstaking care, entering me inch by inch.

My breath hitched, my fingers clutching at his shoulders as the stretch filled me, the sensation overwhelming but perfect and everything I needed — what we needed. Nicholas buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my rain-soaked skin as he whispered my name, over and over.

I gasped, my body arching into his as he pushed further, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips never left my skin, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along my neck, my collarbone, as if grounding himself in the moment. Each kiss was laced with quiet apologies, murmured words of regret and reassurance that made my heart ache and swell at the same time.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough and trembling as he stilled inside me. His hands gripped my hips, anchoring us together. “I’m so fucking sorry for not fighting for you then, for now.”

Tears mingled with the rain on my face, my fingers threading through his wet hair as I pressed my lips to his temple. “I’m sorry, too,” I whispered back, my voice breaking.

Nicholas groaned softly, his hands trailing up my sides, brushing over my ribs as if trying to remind himself I was real, that we were here. I cupped his face, forcing him to look at me, to see the sincerity in my eyes.

His lips crashed into mine, the kiss tender but filled with a desperate need that made my heart race. Slowly, he began to move, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that was agonizingly slow, deliberate, and full of love. Each thrust was a reminder of everything we’d been through, every moment that had brought us to this point. It wasn’t just physical — it was emotional, a reconnection of souls that had been lost in the chaos.

I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as he filled me completely, his movements steady and unhurried. The rain soaked us to the bone, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way he made me feel — seen, cherished, loved in a way that words couldn’t capture.

Nicholas’s forehead pressed against mine as his rhythm stayed slow, deliberate, and tender, his lips brushing against my temple as though grounding us in the moment. Each stroke sent a shiver through me, a soft gasp escaping my lips as I clung to him. The rain was relentless, but the cool droplets against my overheated skin only heightened every sensation.

“Baby,” he murmured against my ear, his voice raw with emotion, “Do you feel that? How much I fucking love you?”

I nodded, unable to form words, my hands trailing up his rain-slicked back to tangle in his hair. His pace remained torturous, each thrust measured and purposeful. His lips found mine again, soft and searching, and I felt the unspoken apologies in every kiss, the promises in every caress.

His lips claimed mine again, slow and deep, as though trying to pour every ounce of his love and regret into that single kiss. The world around us faded away, the storm intensifying as the rain fell even harder, soaking our bodies as we moved together.

Every roll of his hips, every kiss, every whispered word was a balm to the wounds we’d both carried for far too long. There was no urgency, no desperation — only the deliberate, unyielding connection between us. His hands roamed over my body, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin that made me tremble beneath him.

Our movements were unhurried, each touch, each kiss, deliberate, as though we were weaving the pieces of ourselves back together. Nicholas held me like I was something sacred, his hands cradling my face, his lips brushing over mine with a tenderness that made my chest ache. The rain continued to fall, the steady rhythm against the pool blending with our breaths, our sighs.

He whispered my name like a mantra, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against mine as his hips moved against me in a rhythm that felt like poetry.

Tears blurred my vision. “I love you, too,” I whispered, the words spilling from my lips like a vow. “Always.”

His pace quickened slightly, the pressure building between us as his movements became more purposeful, more insistent. The heat pooling in my core grew, spreading through my body like wildfire as he pushed me closer to the edge. Nicholas’s hand rested on the one I had curled around his hair, intertwining his fingers with mine and pinning my arm above my head.

His lips hovered just above mine, his breath mingling with mine as the rhythm of his hips grew firmer, more insistent. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice thick and raw, every word vibrating through me. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

“Nic…” I gasped, my voice trembling as my body arched beneath him, seeking more, craving everything he had to give. The rain poured down around us, the sound a backdrop to the symphony of our breaths, our moans, the quiet gasps that escaped every time he moved inside me.

A groan tore from his throat, his lips crashing against mine as if he couldn’t stand the distance between us for another second. His tongue swept into my mouth, desperate and demanding, as his pace quickened, each thrust more deliberate, more consuming.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he growled against my lips, his voice ragged and trembling with restraint.

Nicholas pressed deeper, his grip on my hand tightening as he brought his other hand to my waist, holding me firmly beneath him. His movements grew more purposeful, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure radiating through my entire body. His control was slipping, and I could feel the tension coiled within him, the sheer effort it took for him to keep his pace measured and deliberate.

“I’m yours,” he growled, his voice low and guttural, each word punctuated by the steady rhythm of his hips. “I’ve always been yours, baby.”

I moaned in response, unable to form coherent words as he pushed me closer to the edge. The rain was relentless, soaking us both as it blurred the lines between where he ended and I began. My fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer, as if the mere inches between us were unbearable.

Nicholas shifted, his weight pressing into me as he lifted my leg over his shoulder so he could hit deeper and reach that spongy spot inside me until I cried out. His lips moved to my neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

“Right there, baby?” Nicholas growled against my neck, his voice thick with desire as his teeth grazed my skin.

“Yes,” I gasped, my hands clutching at his damp shoulders, nails digging into his slick skin. “Oh, my God, Nic. Don’t stop.”

His hips snapped harder, the rhythm deliberate yet overwhelming as he drove into me again and again. The rain hammered down, but the heat between us only grew. Nicholas leaned back just enough to look into my eyes, his face intense and wild, water dripping down his sharp cheekbones.

“You like it when I fuck you like this, baby?” he rasped, his free hand trailing down my waist to grip my thigh. “When I make you scream my name?”

“Yes!” I cried out, my voice raw as my body arched beneath him. Every nerve in my body was alive, every touch, every word pushing me closer to the edge. “Nic, I’m so close.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said through gritted teeth, his lips capturing mine in a brutal, possessive kiss. “I always do.”

My nails raked down his back as he thrust harder, deeper, each movement building the pressure inside me until it was unbearable. His growls mixed with my cries, the sound of our bodies moving together in the rain echoing into the night.

“I love watching you like this,” he whispered, his breath hot against my lips as he gazed down at me. “Taking me so perfectly. Fuck, you’re incredible.”

His words pushed me over the edge, my body tightening around him as I shattered. A scream tore from my lips, and he swallowed it with a searing kiss, his own movements growing erratic as he chased his release.

“Baby,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hips jerked against mine. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” I gasped, pulling him closer, my legs tightening around him. “I’m yours, Nic. Always.”

With a guttural growl, he buried himself deep, his body shuddering as he spilled inside me, filling me completely. The tension in his shoulders melted away as he collapsed against me, his forehead resting against mine as he fought to catch his breath.

Nicholas wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as we lay tangled together on the lounge chair. For several minutes, neither of us moved, the rain cascading over us like a curtain, shielding us from the world outside as it refused to let up. The weight of everything — the fight, the lies, the media circus — seemed to fade, leaving only the steady rhythm of his breathing and the way his chest rose and fell against mine.

Nicholas’s hands traced gentle patterns along my back, his touch soothing as he pressed a lingering kiss to my damp forehead. “I’m not letting you go again,” he murmured, his voice low and resolute.

I tightened my grip around him, my fingers tracing the curve of his shoulder. “Me neither,” I whispered back. “Not this time.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his dark gaze searching mine for any hint of doubt. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him because a soft, almost shy smile tugged at his lips — a glimpse of the Nicholas I had fallen in love with so many years ago.

“Good,” he said, his hand coming up to brush a strand of wet hair from my face. He rested his chin atop my head, his fingers trailing down my back in soothing strokes. “We should probably get inside,” he said after a while, his voice tinged with reluctant amusement. “Before we catch pneumonia.”

“Five more minutes,” I sighed, burying my face in his chest and hugging him tighter.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Seriously, baby, you’re shivering.”

I hadn’t even noticed until he mentioned it. The wind was beginning to pick up, and there was only so much warmth Nicholas’s body could provide in the weather. I nodded, reluctantly pulling away from him slightly. With a grunt, Nicholas pushed himself to his feet, lifting me with him. My legs felt unsteady beneath me, but his arms stayed wrapped securely around my waist, steadying me as he bent down to pick up our discarded clothes.

Nicholas draped his wet shirt over his shoulder and handed me my skirt and panties. I took them silently, my cheeks warming as the reality of what had just happened settled over me. I slipped my panties back on, the damp fabric clinging to me uncomfortably, and stepped into my skirt.

He shrugged on his wet shirt, the fabric clinging to his chest, and bent down to pick up my soaked blouse, carefully opening it by the collar so the fabric wouldn’t drag on my hair as I slipped it on. His touch lingered on my arms for a moment, his dark eyes searching mine. I could see the softness there now, a quiet tenderness that made my chest ache.

Nicholas’s lips quirked into a half-smile, though his concern didn’t waver. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”

He kept an arm wrapped around my waist as we made our way back toward the house, the rain continuing its relentless downpour. My shoes squelched against the wet stone path, and I winced at the uncomfortable sensation of cold fabric clinging to my legs.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing down at me.

I let out a shaky laugh, wrapping my arms around myself. “I’ll survive.”

Nicholas’s arm tightened around me, his body warm against my side despite the chill. “You’re a trooper, baby. But next time? We’re doing this somewhere dry.”

I laughed softly, the sound shaky but real, and leaned into him as we approached the door. We kicked off both of our shoes and socks, leaving them to dry outside.

Nicholas held the door open for me, his hand lingering on the small of my back as I stepped inside. The warmth of the house enveloped us immediately, and I let out a relieved sigh as the shivers that had wracked my body began to subside.The faint hum of the staff’s voices carried from the kitchen, but otherwise, the house was quiet.

The second we stepped inside, dripping wet and shivering from the rain, Mrs. Chavez’s voice cut through the air as she approached us from the kitchen. “Maria, grab some towels and clean clothes!” she called out, her tone brisk but not unkind. “Oh, my god, you two look like a pair of drowned kittens,” she said as she took in our soaked clothes and disheveled appearances.

Maria appeared within a minute or two, thick, fluffy towels in one arm and clean clothes in the other.

“What in the world were you two doing out there?” Mrs. Chavez asked, her eyes wide.

He let out a soft chuckle, reaching for a towel and slinging one towel around his neck, “Just talking.” He grabbed the other towel, unfolding it and holding it open with both hands, and turned his attention to me. “Here, baby,” he spoke softly as he carefully patted my face dry before draping the towel over my back and proceeding to dry my arms.

I stood still, letting Nicholas dry me off, his touch tender and unhurried. He worked his way down my arms and over my shoulders, his brow furrowed in concentration as if this simple act was the most important thing in the world. The towel was warm and soft, a stark contrast to the icy fabric clinging to my skin.

Mrs. Chavez’s eyes lingered on the way Nicholas’s hand rested protectively against me. Her expression softened, and she let out a quiet sigh. There was a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and I swore I saw a glimmer of relief in her eyes. “Well, I hope you’ve managed to sort things out,” she said, her tone gentler now. “But next time, perhaps consider talking indoors,” he sighed before walking off.

Maria smirked as she handed me some dry clothes. “Here, sweetheart. You two better warm up before you catch colds. Paolo has some soup on the stove if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, Maria,” I murmured, clutching the clothes to my chest.

Nicholas gently tugged on my damp blouse. “Here, let me help you.”

I hesitated, my cheeks flushing under Maria’s watchful gaze, but she waved me off with a wink. “I’ll give you two a minute,” she said, turning on her heel and disappearing back into the kitchen.

The room felt quieter without her, the hum of the rain outside the only sound as Nicholas carefully peeled off my wet blouse. His fingers brushed against my skin, and I shivered — not from the cold this time, but from the heat of his touch. His dark eyes stayed locked on mine, and I could see the unspoken emotions swirling in their depths — concern, affection, and something deeper that made my stomach flutter despite the chill.

“You don’t have to,” I murmured, clutching the dry clothes tighter against my chest.

“I want to,” he said softly, his voice low but firm. “You slipped through my fingers once; I’m not letting it happen again.”

The way he said it, so tender and unyielding, left me breathless. He reached for the dry shirt and slipped it over my head, his hands lingering at my waist as he adjusted the hem.

Nicholas crouched in front of me, his hands sliding down to hook themselves around the waistband of my skirt. He pulled it off with care, leaving me standing in just my damp panties. His eyes flicked up to mine, his dark gaze soft but intense.

“Underwear, too?” he hummed.

I hesitated for a heartbeat, my cheeks burning under his gaze. But there was no judgment in his eyes — only concern and a quiet, unwavering devotion that made my heart ache. I looked around to see if anybody was lingering and nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Nicholas’s hands moved with deliberate care, his fingers brushing against my hips as he slid my soaked panties down my legs. The air between us felt charged, every movement laden with unspoken emotion. He kept his eyes on mine, his touch tender and unhurried, as if he were handling something fragile.

Once the damp fabric pooled around my ankles, he picked it up and placed it neatly with the rest of the wet clothes. He reached for the dry sweatpants Maria had provided. “Step in, baby.”

I placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, stepping into the sweatpants as he guided them up my legs, pulling the waistband up. His hands rested lightly on my hips, his thumbs brushing against the fabric as he stood, his face inches from mine. The warmth of the dry fabric against my skin was a welcome relief, but it was the quiet intimacy of the moment that left me breathless.

Nicholas reached out, tucking a strand of damp hair behind my ear. His touch lingered, his dark eyes searching mine. “I’ll always take care of you,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You know that, right?”

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, nodding as I placed a hand on his chest. “I know.” When he reached for the towel again to dry my hair, I stopped him with a light touch on his wrist. “Your turn,” I said, nodding toward his soaked shirt.

Nicholas smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes. “That’s fair.” He peeled off the wet fabric, his muscles rippling with the motion, and my breath caught at the sight of him — the way the light coming from the chandelier above us highlighted every line and curve.

I reached for the towel he’d left draped around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to dry his hair. He bent slightly to make it easier for me, a playful grin tugging at his lips as I worked. “You’re really getting into this, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at my lips. “Just returning the favor.”

I moved the towel down to dry his arm and torso, carefully working as if I could undo the rain’s lingering touch. Nicholas stood perfectly still, letting me take my time, his dark eyes following my every move. There was a vulnerability in his expression, something unspoken but deeply felt that made my chest tighten.

I grabbed the spare shirt Maria had set aside for him, bunching it up to the collar and shrugging it over Nicholas’s head. As the soft fabric fell into place, I smoothed my hands over his chest, brushing away any wrinkles. Then, I proceed to tug down at his sweatpants, making sure to shield him with my body in case anybody walked in.

Nicholas chuckled softly as he rested his hands on my hips, steadying himself as I worked. His voice was warm and teasing, a soft contrast to the intensity of everything we’d just shared. “If you wanted to undress me again, baby, all you had to do was ask,” he said as he stepped out of his wet bottoms and kicked them off to the side.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the heat that rose in my cheeks. “I’m making sure you don’t catch a cold,” I said matter-of-factly, though my voice trembled slightly.

I crouched down carefully, still wanting to keep Nicholas modest, and held the sweatpants open for him to step into. One leg at a time, he stepped into them. I quickly pulled them up and adjusted the waistband, my fingers lingering at his sides for a moment before stepping back.

His hands settled on my hips as I finished, his touch light but grounding. He looked at me for a moment, and I grew a little bit shy. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

I smiled, a small, lopsided thing. “You’re welcome.”

The playful glint in his eyes was replaced by something deeper, more serious. “You know, I’ve spent nights thinking about this — us taking care of each other.” His voice dropped to a whisper, the weight of his words settling heavily between us. “I thought about what it would be like to have you like this. Not just for a moment, not just for a summer, but always. Waking up next to you. Taking care of you. Letting you take care of me.”

My breath hitched as I searched his eyes, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stealing the words from my lips. I wanted to tell him I’d thought the same thing, dreamed of it, even in the moments when I’d tried to convince myself it was impossible. But the lump in my throat made it impossible to speak.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, (Y/N),” he continued, his thumb brushing softly against my hip. “I know I said that I would regret not going to Los Angeles, but I think my biggest regret was ever leaving you behind. And I’m not doing that again. You hear me?”

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, my hands coming up to rest on his chest. His heart beat steady and strong beneath my palm, a rhythm that grounded me. “I hear you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I couldn’t say.

His jaw tightened, his dark eyes shining with an intensity that made my chest ache. “Okay,” he said softly, his hands sliding up to cup my face. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

I let out a watery laugh, the sound trembling but real as my hands gripped the front of his shirt as if to anchor myself to him. Nicholas’s lips found mine again, soft and deliberate, as though sealing our words with a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate — it was steady, full of quiet assurance and unspoken promises. The world around us seemed to fall away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of our breathing.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, the corners of his mouth tugged into a small, almost shy smile. He pulled me into his arms, his embrace warm and secure. For the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of peace, as though the storm that had raged between us was finally settling.

“Let’s get that soup,” he murmured after a moment, pressing a kiss to my hair.

I laughed softly against his chest, the sound shaky but genuine then smiled, letting him guide me toward the kitchen.

The rain continued to fall outside, but for the first time, it felt like it wasn’t a storm but a fresh start, washing away everything that had come before. And with Nicholas’s hand warm in mine, I felt like maybe we’d finally found our way back to each other — for good.

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // prologue

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 0.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: hi! welcome to the prologue for requiem!! just a taste to set things up :) sorry !!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

'Are you coming to the zoo after class?' The note Coryo slid in front of you asks. You look up at him and nod, before taking your pen and scribbling underneath his penwork on the same page, sliding it back as your teacher went on and on about things you had already studied and knew by heart.

'Walk together?'

Now it's his turn to nod, meeting your gaze with a smile.

You hadn't had the chance to meet your tribute yet, but Coryo's idea to go and greet his tribute was very smart. You admired it- he was brave to do that, but something deep in the back of your chest made you uneasy about it. Regardless, you and several of your classmates would make the trip after school to go greet them, bring them food, and get to know them as much as you could. You part ways with him once you arrive, planning to walk home together later.

"Valkyrie?" You call out, scanning the tributes trapped in the cage to try and pinpoint her. You see her when her head turns at the name and you smile, waving her over. "My name is Y/N. I'll be your mentor."

She doesn't say anything as she stops in front of you, giving you a death glare that could give you chills. She looked strong. It was good, she'll do well in the games. "It's nice to meet you," you continue. "My job is to help you however I can. So anything you need or want, I'm your girl. Just say the word."

Her cold stare doesn't falter, but you try not to let your discomfort show. You need her to trust you, that was Coryo's best advice, so you would do all you could to take it. "Are you hungry? You must be. I brought you some food." You don't wait for a response that you know isn't coming, digging in your bag already.

"It's my favorite, but I do hope you like it." You hum, pulling out a container with some crackers and honey, and a lemon to cut up and put in your water bottles. "Care to sit?" You offer, already sitting down yourself, kneeling in front of the bars. You smile when she obliges, matching your posture across from you.

"I'm a singer, and honey is really good for the throat." You explain, hoping that she'll begin to trust you if she knows you a little better. "It's a nice bonus that it tastes good, too. I'm not supposed to have sugar, but I think honey is the next best thing." You open the container, trying not to expose the shakiness in your hands as you grab the small bowl of honey and a knife to spread it, but this fails drastically when you accidentally drop it and it falls past the bars just out of your reach.

"Oh, gosh- I'm just so clumsy, would you mind passing that to me?" You ask, trying to reach for it anyway. You grin when she reaches out for it, picking it up by the handle. "Thank you..." You tell her, leaning closer to grab it from her hand. Something in her eyes shifts so fast you have no chance to really pick up on it before she grabs your hair with her other hand and pulls you back into the bars.

You scream, adrenaline pumping through your veins in an instant as you try and pull yourself away but it's too late and your screams are silenced by the blade of the knife against your throat.

Your eyes go wide as she lets you go, hands coming up to your neck out of instinct and when you pull one away it's warm and covered in red. Blood. Your own blood. You're choking, trying to breathe but the air feels sticky as you fall back. "Y/N! Y/N? Hey, look at me. Look at me!" Your best friend cries out, suddenly in front of you with his arms at your sides, lowering you carefully to the ground.

You stare up at him, hands still clasped over your neck which he matches with his own, doing his best to try and stop the bleeding. "Help! Somebody, help!" He shouts, turning and hoping help is coming as your heartbeat drums behind your ears.

Several gunshots ring out, echoing in the back of your head as you stare up at the sky and Coryo drops down on top of you, likely trying to dodge the bullets. You don't know where they were going- and you don't care.

You try and speak but no sound is coming out, just the sickening gurgle of your own blood replacing the smoothness of your voice. You know it's really not good when your vision starts to blur, the last thing you see being Coryo's panicked expression as he looks over you, desperately yelling at you to stay awake and for someone to please, please help.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[wettvagina]

REVENGE COUPLE

SYNOPSIS: Jean cheats on you with Mikasa, and Mikasa cheats on Eren with Jean. Subsequently, you and Eren get together. The perfect revenge couple.

WARNINGS: p in v , creampie

a/n:lol

You laid almost lifelessly in the comfort of your bed, in your dorm room. Your mouth was dry and your eyes felt heavy, your hair physically triggered you as you could sense the grease and tangles.

You laid there, bitterly as your phone buzzed repeatedly, you didn't know if you've even processed everything yet, however this pain was like a knife in the heart. It was as if, something you've worked so hard for, perfecting it with every second passing, was suddenly stolen from you.

That pinpointed half of what you were feeling, the other half being the feeling of resentment and a sense of palapbility towards yourself, taking great concern towards your flaws, physically and mentally. You simply felt like an object, something that somebody could chew up, then spit out when they've grown bored, or in your case; chew up and spit you out when they want a new one.

Thoughts; memories, moments, words he said to you, all ran through your mind, toying with your head as you leaned into your pillow, wondering, why?

Just why? Were you not good enough, did you not put your everything into your relationship, were you annoying, or did he not find you attractive. Thoughts plagued your mind consecutively before one thought occupied all the space.

Maybe he was just an asshole.

An asshole; for doing that.

for making you feel this way.

for making you look at yourself in a hateful way.

Or perhaps, you were just gullible, foolish for believing that genuine love could florish between people like you two, you were simply stupid for loving him in the first place, for giving him all of you and him betraying you in the snap of a finger was your punishment.

Pain, anxiety, lonliness was constant in your system, as you fell into the loop; reminiscing the memories you shared with him, painting him as an asshole to get your brain to move on, deducing yourself to be a fool for loving him in the first place, as lastly concluding that you were still in love with him.

You sighed for the hundredth time, turning your face so that your vision pointed up at the ceiling, you extended your hand to grab your phone which vibrated against the wooden nightstand it laid on, providing a small exposure of light in your pitch black room.

Turning on your phone, you see the million notifications from your friends, asking if you were okay, you saw some notifications from boys whom were waiting patiently for you and Jean to break up to slide into your DMs.

Clicking on the Instagram icon, you waited for the homepage to load, your heart begun drumming against your chest as you saw the pink-to-orange gradient circle around Jean's round profile photo displayed on recently uploaded stories.

Impulsively, you clicked the icon, regret coiling in your brain as the story took time to load, upon loading, your eyes widened, seeing Mikasa's face posted to a love song, the red heart emoji captioned the screen as the story, and the music played from your phone.

Your eyes prickled with tears as you slammed your phone onto the bed, you screamed into your pillow, groaning as you stood to your feet, "This won't fucking do.'' you grunted, "Hey y'all, halloween party at my place, pull up if you're free" Floch's voice ringed from your phone, turning your phone screen to face you, you looked at Floch's Instagram story that automatically played, an evil smirk forming on your face as you rummaged through the pile of clothes on your floor.

Grabbing a black bra, a pair of shorts and a pair of black boots which stopped mid-calf, you stripped out of your two-day old clothes, wrapping yourself in a towel before stepping into the shower. "Siri, play some music." you chimed as your hype-music boomed from your phone's speaker.

Stepping into the shower, you washed your hair, shaved every part of your body with caution, muttering "I have to get laid." repeatedly like a crazy woman. Stepping out of the shower, you grabbed a black thong, music boomed in your ears as you danced in your dorm room while slipping the thong up your thighs, followed by your dark blue denim shorts, you grabbed the straps of the thong, raising them so they were visible under your shorts.

You clipped on your bra while opening your minifridge using your feet, you grabbed your emergency bottle of Hennessy, downing a large gulp, scrunching your face as the bitterness settles in your tongue, burning your throat as it enters your system, feeling a slight buzz, you downed a larger gulp, manically searching for your phone in the covers of your bed with your right hand, bottle of Hennessy in your left hand, taking occassional sips, bliss and excitedness pumping through your body.

Turning off the music which was playing, you shoved your phone in your back pocket of your shorts, leaving the open bottle of Hennessy on the wooden side table near your bed as you slip on your black boots, "Fuck where is it." you cursed as you searched your pile of clothes for a vital item for your costume.

"Yes!" you cheered upon finding the black cat ears, adjusting them onto your head before standing onto your feet, looking at yourself in the mirror. "How could somebody ever leave me." you mutter to yourself, touching your corporeal body as you look at yourself in the mirror.

Snatching your phone from your back pocket, you open the Instagram app, swiping to the camera feature, snapping some sexy pictures of yourself in your costume, finding a picture you liked, you put a song by Stunna Girl before posting it, waiting for it to upload before twisting the doorknob which kept you inside your dormroom, sashaying out of your dorm with clicks of your boots snapping from the floor.

"Goddamn!" someone muttered as you made your way through the hallway of several dormatories, upon reaching outside of your building complex, you took a large sniff of the air outside, perceptive of the afternoon breeze which smelled like maple syrup and cold donuts, you watched the hues of the sky, the bright orange to pink gradient seemingly more interesting as compared to other days where you'd immediately rush inside, not even peering up at the sky.

"Taxi." you called out, stepping into the yellow, black-striped vehicle, giving the driver details of your destination. You could hear the music from outside, the low-volume songs ascended its booming as you came closer to the property.

Floch's house was decorated with halloween decor, along with color-changing strip lights which illuminated the porch, displaying all the action of the people whom occupied the area; there were people kissing, grabbing at eachother, dancing, drinking, some even seemed to be getting fingered.

The yard of this frat house was littered with disposed bottles, snack paper wrapper, some tiny ziplock bags, as well as some red plastic cups. Kicking some shards of glass from the concrete pathway, you felt as if the ground was shaking to the beat of the music, your atomosphere synchronised with the sound of the music as you stepped into the porch, feeling the stares on you.

Tightening the straps of your bra and digging your phone even deeper into your pocket, you stepped into the house, the music becoming vivid as your eyes dazed at the disco-themed flashing lights reflected in your pupils.

Upon enterance, you were already pushed into the swaying crowd, dancing to whatever 90s to early 10s mix the DJ created, you heard yells, chants and moans compete with the playing music, you searched the entire room, subconsiously, counting all the people you were familiar with; Floch, Reiner, Ymir and Sasha.

You grinned when your eyes met with Sasha's, a grin of shame and embarrassment pratically, Sasha ran up to you, embracing you with tenderness as you giggled, holding back some tears as you expected the following words to come out of her mouth, "Listen, Jean's an asshole." she started, "Look at you, so beautiful, he should be lucky to even say he breathed the same air as you." she went on, grabbing your knuckles as she spoke, "It's fine, I'm fine and I really don't wanna talk about it." you vocalized, "Mhm, well, drinks are in the kitchen, but I feel like you already pre-gamed." she chatted, "Mhm, thanks." you smile at her before you all go your separate ways.

You pushed through the sonorous, shickered crowd, occasionally making eye contact with the boys whom knifed their gazes at you as if you were a piece of meat. You assumed you were in the hallway, as you passed through the dimly-lit, narrow path, barely littered with maudlin people, you heard voices paired with snickers as you reached closer to the kitchen, the song suddenly faded into a new one, and you heard louder chants and yawps from the distant crowd in the living room.

Both your eyebrows raised as you enetered the kitchen, involuntarily staring at Jean and Mikasa, Mikasa sat on the counter of the island, in the middle of the kitchen, around her jumbled with several alcohol bottles, Jean situated himself between her thighs, hands caressing her skin.

Soon, you saw Jean's perforating stare, his eyes shifted to Mikasa's face, whispering into her ears, soon she looked back at you, giggling when she faced Jean. You clenched your jaw, rage pumping through your veins, you swore your face would turn into rock as your stone-faced expression appeared.

Oh you were going to tell her. you swore to yourself, cursing under your breath as you noticed snickers and giggles from everyone in the kitchen, all of them with eyes pointing at you. "Aye Jean, can I make a move on your old girl." your heard a boy try to whisper to Jean with little effort to conceal his words, Jean looked at him, "Yeah, whatever." Jean ragged, with an I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck expression, all his attention keen on Mikasa, the group of boys laughed as you took a step forward, grabbing a bottle of whatever you were capable of picking up.

Popping the lid off, you turned around, gulping down the substance recklessly, a poor attempt to compress the pain stinging in your chest and the weakness your body suddenly felt. Taking an electrifying gulp, you placed the bottle on the nearest counter top which spanned around the walls of the room of the kitchen, "It'd be so hilarious if Eren shows up." Connie snickered, jabbing at Reiner who stood in a separate corner, before Reiner formed a snarky comment, you felt a presence in front of you.

Speak of the devil.

The entire room burst out in laugher, Eren's eyes meets Mikasa's as she smiles shyly, mockery interpretated from her actions, Jean's eyes lingered at Eren's somehow laid back expression. Was he high?

You thought to yourself, of course you were no dummy, you knew that Mikasa left Eren for Jean, the same way Jean left you for Mikasa, theoretically, you and Eren were on the same boat. You looked up at Eren, who's gaze shifted from Mikasa, then to Jean and then to the other people in the room lampooning on the current situation.

Then Eren's eyes shifted down onto you. You and Eren weren't strangers, you knew him and he knew you. Before him and Mikasa were together, as well as before you and Jean were together, Mikasa and Jean were together.

Mikasa and Jean's relationship were ragged at, due to the fact that Mikasa had been with several guys closely associated with Jean before hopping to Jean, both you and Eren ridiculed their relationship, that was back when you and Eren were colleagues, calling your relationship 'friends' would be pushing it.

However, your companionship with him soon came to an ironic end when Mikasa seemingly cheated on Jean with Eren, and in the next few weeks Eren isolated himself completely, ruining himself for a girl that would soon ruin him.

And well, out of convienence, Jean ran to you.

Everything was all and well, until the equilibrium was broken, meaning; Mikasa got bored of Eren and effortlessly jumped to Jean who was more than gleeful to take her back.

Oh well, end of backstory. Back to the present.

You looked up at Eren, a grin on your face, one that was hinted with slight mockery, you moved to the side, avoiding his figure as you walked out of the kitchen. Not wanting to be in that unbearing environment, you questioned yourself, wondering why you even came to this party. Soon, all your questions came to an abrupt end when the song switched, satisfyingly. You briskly walked to the living room, looking for an unoccupied body to grind on as you felt the sudden buzz of the alcohol.

The crowd ate your body as you found yourself backing it up on a random girl, slurring your words as you sung the lyrics to the song in a maudlin tone, woozy from the alcohol. Soon the music switched, and the lighting suddenly dimmed, you checked your phone, seeing the time was 6P.M, meaning the party had just kicked off.

Smirking when you felt a large presence tower behind you, you purposefully, pushed yourself backwards, poking your ass out as you moved your waist in a circle, feeling the person's large, calloused hands roam over the dip of your waist, down to your hips, keeping a steady hold as he grinded onto you.

You felt yourself getting wetter as you were somehow able to smell him, his colonge which was paired with an innocent whiff of shampoo, with the twist of your neck, you turned looking at who was behind you. Biting your lower lip once you realized it was Eren.

His eyelids were heavy as he looked down at your body, the globe of your ass covered by the denim of your shorts which was pressed against his grey sweatpants. His hands grabbed at your hips, pulling you onto him, you teasingly wriggled your hips, the flesh of your ass recoiling. "Fuck." he groaned, "Stop." he murmured, his raspy voice rang in your ears, and you were sure that there was a wet spot on your panties right now.

At this point alcohol had arrogated your body, impulsively, you pushed your ass back onto him, feeling how hard he was getting under his sweats. His hands housed your hips, you felt his touch tensen as he seemingly pulled you into him, you looked back at him, biting your lip when his eyes met yours.

At this point, the songs started switching more frequently, and more people started piling up in the living room, increasing the size of the crowd. "Holy shiiit, is that Eren?" an unfamiliar voice spoke amongst the loud music playing paired with the noisy crowd of swaying bodies. "Yeah, with Jean's girl." another voice was heard.

Pausing your movements you turned to look at where the interrogative voices emerged from, before you could even turn your head, Eren made you straighten your back, the back of your shoulders pressing against his chest, in one swift motion, Eren spun you around, making you face him.

You looked up at him, his dark green eyes piercing into yours as his hands found their way to your ass, his fingers settling on the curve. You looked at his eyes, then down to his pink lips, he then slowly started lowering his head, you knew where this was going.

Your heart throbbed in your chest, as your pussy simultaneously throbbed in your panties, his lips pressed onto yours in the warmest way possible, you felt his hands grip onto your ass as you maneuvered your hands to grab at his deep brunette hair.

For a split second, everything went silent, and you felt as though every emotion you previously endured had suddenly disappeared, the warmth of his lips somehow spread throughout your body, as you clenched your thighs together, breaking out of the heated kiss, Eren's lips never left the close contact of your skin as he traced down to your ears.

"C'mon." he whispered, before he slightly distanced himself from your face, his hands left your ass as he grabbed onto your hand, dragging you through the crowd, you didn't even notice the stares, paired with the several 'oohs' and cheers of other people, taking notice of the situation occurring.

Eren led you upstairs, which was dark and quiet, the orange murkiness of light which dispersed through the room shone over your head as the heels of your boots dug into the light tuape-colored carpet, the buttermilk shaded walls hung several abstract paintings of fruits.

You suddenly looked down at Eren's larger hand which clasped yours, feeling the torridity in your chest, stopping infront a walnut-colored door, with a silver doorknob, you looked up at Eren, heart thumping in your chest as his greedy, green eyes roamed up and down your body.

"You don't want to?" he questioned, genuine concern imbued into his voice, "I want to!" you confirmed, practically squealing, Eren giggled as he twisted the doorknob, allowing you to walk in first, you examined the umber-brown walls, paired with the same taupe-grey carpets from the hall, the atmosphere of the dimly-lit candle which attempted to illuminate the room echoed with the wall colors.

You felt a sudden whirpool of emotion in your body, to put it simply, greed, you wanted to fuck him so badly that it made your pussy dampen in his mere presence. Eren came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder, pressing his lips against the shell of your ear, "So fucking beautiful, how could anybody even think of leaving you." he sibilated.

His hand traveled down to the buttons of your shorts, unbuttoning the first loop before sliding down the zipper, his fingers slithered down your pants, rubbing at your clit, upon his sudden contact with your pussy, you held back the moans which arose.

"So fucking wet." he whispered as he let out a chuckle, his chin rested on your shoulder as he used one hand to massage your boobs, and the other to play with your pussy. Everything felt too good, you bit your lower lip as you felt your legs weaken.

"Listen." Eren whispered into your ear, "How bout' we make a little video for your lying boyfriend." Eren suggested, you turned your face to look at him, your lips meeting his in a slow, deep kiss.

"Mm, yeah." you agreed, "Alright, get on the bed, princess." Eren instructed, you walked up to the grey sheeted bed, sitting on the edge as Eren loosened the string on his sweatpants, pulling down the waistband, exposing the large tent in his boxers. You bit your lower lip as you looked at his clothed cock, right in front of you.

"Eren." your voice called out, "Hm?" he looked down at you, walking up to you, caressing your face with one hand, "I want you to fuck me from the back." you stated, you watch Eren's lips tug into a smirk as you got onto your fours.

Arching your back, you felt Eren's large hands around the belt loops of your shorts, slipping the denim fabric off, exposing your black thong which concealed your throbbing pussy. You could feel Eren's fingers slide away the thin piece of cloth which clothed your pussy, "You ready, princess?" he questioned, stroking his dick, coating his shaft with his pre-cum which oozed out of the tip.

"Mm, yeah." you groaned, you felt the tip of his cock, prodding at your wet enterance, "Fuckkk." Eren cursed as he slid his entire length into your welcoming pussy, your walls coating his dick with your juices.

"Shiit." you whined, his slow movements producing moans from you as his extensive, and broad cock pushed in and out of you. "You're so sexy like this." Eren groaned, his hand reaching to hold onto your hip as he buried his cock into you, feeling for his phone, he pulled it out, swiping to the Camera setting and hitting the record button.

"C'mon, show Jean what he can't have." Eren grunted, "Bounce on my dick, baby." Eren encouraged with a breathy giggle as you pushed yourself up and down his length, moaning his name as the friction of your walls against his hard, heavy cock sent a rush of pleasure up your spine, bliss fogging your brain.

Eren used his hand on your hips to pull and push you up and down his cock, his rickety, heavy breaths were heard as his head fell back, groaning your name at the soft, yet intense feeling of your pussy wrapped around his throbbing cock, bobbing up and down on it.

All the times he had engaged in having sex previously, could never amount to this, he made sure to get the way your ass sprung back on his cock with every thrust, pointing his iPhone camera at an angle where you looked best.

Likewise, you never felt as good as how you felt now, Eren's dick was significantly better than Jean's, and the whole concept of Eren recording you on his cock simply made it better, you arched your back as your knees dug into the sheets, you felt a mixture of yours and Eren's arousal drip down between your thighs.

"Oh fuuuck!" you bawled when Eren suddenly slammed into you, hearing your skin slap against his, "Shit, I'm close." he moaned, his pace quickened as he slammed into you, faster and harder, causing your pussy to react immediately by clenching around his cock, as the knot in your lower stomach become undone, you came all over his cock, prompting him to come inside of you.

"Fuck, I'm coming." Eren panted in the midst of your moans, painting your walls white with his come as you felt him pulse inside of you. Your breaths were heavy and unsteady as you felt Eren pull out, you heard several clicks from his phone.

"How bout' you do it?" he offered, displaying his phone screen; the already attached video file of your recent sextape in Jean's chat. With barely any hesitation, you used your remaining energy to click the send button, falling flat onto your chest with an exhausted sigh as you heard Eren chuckle.

"You want the video." he asked, with a soft voice as he laid next to you, sweat coating his forehead. "First ones never come out good, I'll take the second one." you teased, hoping you'd get to have another experience like this with him again, very soon.

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

December Fic Day 4 ~ Gingerbread House

Summary: You and Logan build a gingerbread house.

Warnings: none that I'm aware of but please correct me if I'm wrong

Pairings: again pretty sure this is suitable for everyone (fem!reader/male!reader/gn!reader) but I am still new to writing anything other than fem!reader so any pointers are greatly appreciated.

Enjoy and please like and comment if you do. Something as simple as an emoji literally makes my day better so please don't hesitate to comment and obviously reblog to share my work.

December Masterlist

Logan had eased into your festive celebrations nicely, doing everything you asked of him and letting you use him as a pack horse to cart decorations and Christmas trees around the school, working at the dead of night in the hopes of surprising the children when they woke up. Logan didn’t mind it much, his strength meaning it wasn’t too much of an arduous task for him and he would much rather do it than let you be the one to carry everything across the mansion and up the stairs. With all the trees now up, left empty for the children to decorate (except for the one in the main hall which you and Logan would be decorating so at least one tree looked out together), you and Logan made your way down to the kitchen where you had a more fun festive task for him. 

“You want me to build a gingerbread house?” He asked incredulously. “Baby I ain’t exactly the most delicate, I’m gonna break the damn thing.” He protested but you shook your head, grabbing his wrist to encourage him not to leave but to stay in the kitchen with you. 

“C’mon Lo, what’s the worst that can happen? If you break it, no one’s gonna know. Besides, it'll be fun, making our own house and then we can eat it after.” He still looked uncertain and so you pulled out your secret weapon, holding your hands up threateningly and wriggling your fingers. “What’s it gonna be, wolf boy? Do I have to tickle you or are you gonna build the gingerbread house with me?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Bub that ain’t gonna work! You haven’t let the icing set for the walls, it’ll crumble.” Logan criticised you as you attempted to fit the roof to the four walls. You turned and glared at him, ignoring what he said and putting the roof on how you wanted. 

“Not bad to say you didn’t want to build the bloody thing! Stop being so technical. See it’s perfectly-.” Just as the word left your lips the house toppled sideways, the four walls collapsing inwards and the roof falling on top of it. “Fine.” You finished your sentence and Logan looked at you with a look that said he didn’t know whether to laugh and say ‘I told you so’ or prepare for tears and to soothe you. 

“I umm… maybe the kit was faulty? Icing must be stale, bub. Wasn’t your fault.” He tried tentatively, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leaving his head against yours. 

“No, you were right, like you usually are. Got too impatient, should have let the icing set.” You sighed, leaning into him and looking at the mess you’d made on the table, the roof split in two and the corners of most of the walls chipped. “Sorry baby, this was meant to be fun and I’ve ruined it.” 

“No you haven’t, don’t be stupid. Here, we can just…” Logan picked up the broken roof, using a knife to chop it into smaller pieces. “We can fix it.” 

Ten minutes later, the roof had been cut into smaller squares to make roofing tiles and Logan was delicately gluing them together with icing, his huge hands dwarfing the gingerbread as he got you to make some more icing with the icing sugar in the cupboard. “There we go bub. Told you we could fix it. Now let’s let the icing set and you can decorate your house alright? I’m gonna grab a beer, you want a drink?”

You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his neck in a hug as he stood, kissing both of his cheeks and then his lips. “Thank you for fixing it and I’m sorry for yelling at you.” 

As he drank his beer and you drank your drink, the pair of you added little decorations to the gingerbread house, you adding gummies to the roof and Logan adding peppermint circles for windows. Once all of it was done, Logan grabbed a piece of gingerbread that he had saved and wrote ‘The Howletts’ with white icing and a toothpick, leaning the sign up against the front of the house. It shocked you slightly as he added that finishing touch with a smile and then turned to look at you. “Well I think we managed to fix it pretty well huh bub?” 

“Howletts? Bold of you to assume I’d take your last name.” You teased, though the gesture had warmed your heart and added a slight wetness to your eyes. 

“Oh don’t you worry bub, one day you’ll have a nice ring on your finger and my last name to match. The gingerbread house says so.”

Dividers: @coolcatsgraphics

I'm also on A03 :)

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Hi Dove!

I love love LOVE the theme of your event here - it's so cozy! Your mind is simply brilliant.

For this, may I request Rook with the prompt "Discovering old secrets" and the emojis 🎵 and 🖼 ?

If that has already been filled in some way, could I instead request Trey with the prompt "Warm mornings" and the emojis 🪴 and 🧇 ?

I forsee some absolutely beautiful pieces coming out of this event, and I hope you enjoy yourself! (Just don't work yourself too hard, okay? :) )

Discovering Old Secrets; Rook Hunt

Content; Gender-neutral reader, mutual pining but make it a strategy game

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; You don't actually find what the old secret actually means, but that's a part of the fun. I hope you enjoy this playful Rook drabble!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You didn’t really know what to expect from Rook when he proposed going on a ‘vacances à la mer’. There was something other than teasing in his eyes; vulnerability. This wasn’t any run-of-the-mill cottage by the sea, no. It was less of a cottage and more of a villa… one of his family’s villas.  

This was a huge leap in your relationship status, as the two of you were having this game of sorts to see who would actually confess first. And so far, no one has yet come out to be the victor. Sure, it was silly and trivial, as you both liked each other, but it was more fun — on Rook’s end — and you were curious as to how long this could play out. It was a game of 4D chess, and the two of you were skirting around the other with no clear sign of when a checkmate would happen.

Perhaps you were finally getting closer to achieving this, after all, Rook is very cryptic when it comes to revealing any deeper information on him, or his background.

“Your head seems to be in the clouds, Trickster,” he chuckled, sending you a teasing wink. “Would you be kind enough to share?”

Well, he sent you a wink, not that you could really see it, as you were busy putting away some of the sparse belongings you had. “Not really,” you shot back, looking at him through the corner of your eye.

Rook was leaning slightly on the doorframe, hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and wearing beige linen pants and a white linen shirt. This was the most relaxed and casual you had seen him… it wasn’t a bad look. “You wound me,” he sighed, shaking his head, “my heart cannot take it!”

“Are you going to help me or just stand there?” What are you playing at, Rook?

Rook chuckled but slowly sauntered over, and started putting things away how you liked them. At first, it did creep you out that he knew how you liked to store your belongings, but he’s Rook and that’s just a Rook thing. And right now it was nice having an extra pair of hands; many hands make light work.

You bumped something off the shelf by accident, which Rook caught like it was nothing. Reflexes sharp as a knife… or one of his arrows you suppose.

“I haven’t seen this in years,” he mused quietly, turning over the painting that you had nearly sent crashing to the ground. Rook turned his gaze to you, a soft smile making the corners crinkle slightly. “This painting, mon chou, holds a secret…” and I believe you can unlock it. Rook gently handed the painting to you, his calloused hands brushing against yours. 

You inspected the painting; it was of this very villa. The detail was beautiful, including the hand-carved driftwood frame. Running your fingers over the groves you found something small, round, and metal. You pressed it.

Gentle piano music emanated from the painting, and the scene was changing. Rook had his head resting on your shoulder as the scene played out; two figures were now in the painting, skirting around each other as if dancing. And then the one figure, who looked an awful lot like Rook, took the other’s hand as the music faded out, setting the painting in place.

You wiggled your shoulder, prompting Rook to get his head off of you. “What was that? It was beautiful, but what does it mean?”

Rook just gave you a cheery smile and winked, “That’s for you to discover in your own time, Trickster.” He patted you on the shoulder and went back into the main living room, leaving you alone to ponder over what that painting was really about. But Rook knew.

So I will lose this chase? He looked back over his shoulder as you straightened the painting with care. He watched as the painting shifted back to its original state. Hmm, not that I mind… as long as they are happy with cornering their quarry. Funny, no? Le chasseur d’amour has become the helpless prey… not that I mind.

~~~~~~~

*vacances à la mer; vacation by the sea

*mon chou; the literal translation is 'my cabbage' but it means 'my darling' in this context

~~~~~~~

Tags: @eynnwwyjth, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

The Hunt Family Villa (fan art by the lovely Krenenbaker!)

[sanjoongie]

𝖛𝖊𝖗ä𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖓

Verändern: the German word for change, modify, vary, transform

Pairing: Fae! Yunho x Changling! Reader (f)

Genre: smut

Au: fae, changling, modern fantasy

Trope: s2l, bonded mate

Word Count: 2,358

Warnings: public sex, slight fear kink, restraints, dom! Yunho, sub! Reader, brat! Reader, oral (f), breast play, penetrative sex with no barrier, finger sucking (f), tummy bulge, gag (hand, fingers), pull out game, jerking off on stomach?

Rated: 18+ MDNI

Summary: one night, during the autumn solstice celebration, you're whisked away by a hooded man, dropping a bomb to your life. Except you kind of believe him. It wasn't the first time someone accused you of being different.

Author’s Note: @flurrys-creativity to my champion, the one who will fight for me when I cannot. My tag for you is ironic considering how much I depend on you. You may make me wanna tear my hair out but at the end of the day, who else would validate my logic? Also i really hope i didn't butcher the title *pained seonghwa emoji*. Happy belated birthday flurrs, I hope you had a good one

Branches pulled at your hair and clothes, almost as if they were trying to hold you back. You would have leaned into their help if not for the tall, Fae man dragging you through said dark and menacing forest.

“Don’t ever enter the Darkling Forest, sweet,” your mother always told you. “You’ll get trapped and never return.”

Was it a different situation if you were forced into said forest?

Rewind to perhaps a couple hours earlier, where you were celebrating the autumn equinox. You had a solo cup full of a neon green liquid that burned down your esophagus every time you chugged it. You might have gone for some beer if not for the rowdy crowd of people permanently stuck to the keg. 

Not that you were one to turn down a good time with some alcohol but you weren’t starting to feel like you shouldn’t have come to the gathering. Your social battery was already at an all-time low from your job and your family. You were starting to want to kick your past self in the but for agreeing to go to this, despite your busy schedule.

Taking another sip from your cup, your eyes skirted around the blazing bonfire near the dark edge of the forest, and your eyes settled on a figure near the edge. The shadows seem to cling to their lanky form. Unlike the rest of the people around you, bundled up in puffy jackets and fuzzy sweaters, this person had a thin cloak that fluttered in the moonlight. You saw peeks of red and gold. You weren’t one to judge someone on what they chose to wear to a party, but this seemed extremely out of whack. 

Then, the person cocked their head towards the forest and then disappeared into its depths. 

Now, you weren’t a stupid person to simply follow a stranger into the woods. You were more likely to end up on a crime documentary as the killer rather than the victim. But there was something in your chest that was pulling you to follow them. 

You threw your solo cup in a can after downing the rest of the contents, of course, and took long strides to meet the edge of the forest.

Fuck it, the party wasn’t that fun anyways. 

Bathed in the moonlight in a clearing was the person you had been following. The light from the moon seemed to only highlight his light-colored hair that had to be dyed because no one had hair that natural color. His dark eyes under his fringe, however, were solidly locked on you.

“I didn’t think you’d come. Perhaps they are right,” the man murmured to himself.

You sighed tiredly. “Look, if this is a ruse to kill me, I’ve got a knife in my bag, and I know exactly where to dump a body.”

The man smiled, sharp with amusement. “Quite the opposite, in fact. My name is Jeong Yunho.”

You rubbed your chest. You had felt a zing of something in your heart. What had that been? Heartburn from the neon drink?

“ ‘kay, well Yunho, I’m going to need you to be a hell of a lot less cryptic if you think this is gonna be a thing right now,” you said boldly.

Yunho cocked his head at you curiously. “It’s clear you were brought up amongst them, but you’re going to need to find a way to be less blunt if I bring you back.”

“You know, you may be really hot, but you’re not making a whole lot of sense right now. If you’re selling drugs, I’m not interested.” With that, you walked backward, not giving him the benefit of your back or seeing your ass, if you’re being honest.

The black bindings that ran down his left arm snaked out from his body as he stretched his arm out towards you. They raced along the sticks and leaves on the bare ground and finally wound around your ankles, anchoring you in your spot. 

“Leaving is not an option,” Yunho mused. “I’m afraid I can not let you have that much power over your life right now.”

You should have been scared. You knew that objectively. It wasn’t every day that a man controlling shadows wrapped you up in a forest. But you felt something slowly curling inside your chest as Yunho moved closer to you. You didn’t know exactly what it was, but something in you was telling you that Yunho would never hurt you.

Then the moonlight flashed against Yunho’s eyes, much like when a cat’s eyes reflected light and suddenly everything clicked together. The warnings your mother had told you every day that tied in with never going into the Darkling Forest.

“You’re one of them!” You exclaimed. “One of the Fae.”

“And so are you.”

You scoffed at the statement. “Please, if I was a fairy princess, I--”

“Do you have a habit of winding words and working around the truth, or spinning something into how you would like it to sound?” Yunho cut you off.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, but--”

“A darkness inside of you assuring you of your survival. A sharp mind that can thirst for blood?” Yunho continued, stepping closer and closer. 

“In my defense, that tree had it coming!”

“If you believe I’m Fae, then you know I can’t lie.”

Your mouth shut audibly. Well, he had you there. “Wouldn’t I know if I was a--”

“A changeling?” Yunho’s eyes glinted with mystery. “Haven’t you always felt like you didn’t belong?”

That one hit a little too close to home. “Why now?”

Yunho’s eyes flitted around to the darkness behind you. “They’re coming for you. We have no King or Queen. They’re worried you’ll claim the throne. They want you dead.”

It was your turn to cock your head curiously. “Then why are you here?”

Yunho pressed his lips together, looking at you, then looking at the ground. “You’re mine.”

“Excuse you?!” You shouted in surprise.

“Don’t you feel it? Our bond? They handfasted us as babies. We’re mates.”

Your hand rubbed your chest with an odd sense of warmth at Yunho’s words. “We’re mates?”

Yunho snatched your free hand. “We have to go.”

That’s how you found yourself currently, running through the dark forest with Yunho. You couldn't lie. It was very thrilling; your heart was beating out of your chest and your legs attempting to keep up with the long-legged man dragging you along. 

Then, something zoomed past your cheek, and you cried out. Yunho halted immediately but steadied you with two hands on your shoulders. Your free hand, not currently entangled with Yunho’s, rose to your cheek and came back red. 

“He’s here,” Yunho said, eyes flitting about behind you. 

“My killer? If I’m a Fae, shouldn’t I have cool powers like you? Let me help. Surely, two against one is bet--”

Yunho clamped a hand against your mouth and pushed you up against a tree. “Quiet. We have to blend into the shadows right now. It’s the only way he won’t find us.”

You watched as the shadows seemed to rise from the ground, encompassing the two of you in a bubble of opaque darkness. 

Who was the one pursuing you? You couldn't ask, of course, due to Yunho’s hand on your mouth. So you stuck your tongue out and ran it up and down his palm. Yunho sucked in some breath hard at your moist tongue, licking him, but he didn’t look down at you. That was annoying.

You dropped your jaw so you could draw some of the skin between your teeth. Yunho’s jaw clenched, but still no eye contact. 

You were about to push your hands onto his chest when a twig snapped in earshot. 

A man with long black hair, a red thread making a braid down one shoulder, and a bandolier criss-crossing his chest. He held two knives between his fingers, flipping them there as he stalked through the forest. Was that your pursuer, because if so, he was really fucking hot.

A low growl emitted from Yunho’s chest. You could feel it because of how close he was, pinning you up against the tree. His eyes were finally on you again, and they were burning with anger. 

You smirked against Yunho’s hand. Was he jealous?

Seconds ticked by as hours, but eventually, Yunho lowered his shadows and his hand on your mouth when the other man rushed off in another direction. 

“Don’t you ever look at another man like you want to fuck him in front of me ever again,” Yunho commanded.

You raised your eyebrows. “Or?”

Yunho’s shadows wrapped around your wrists and pinned them over your head against the tree. “I know you feel the bond. Do not play with me, Changeling.”

“Me? Play with you? But I’m just human raised, aren’t I? What’s that to a Fae grown up in.. the courts, I’m assuming? Do tell me how I’m besting you,” you purred.

This was fun. Maybe being a Changeling wasn’t half bad. 

Yunho’s eyes were getting darker. With what, you had a sneaky suspicion you knew. For within your bond, darkness crept through. Darkness of the way Yunho clearly wanted to possess you. His want seeped through the bond. And you wanted to provoke that. 

“Show me.”

Yunho’s nimble fingers ran along your jaw. “You want to cement this? In the middle of a forest, with a man pursuing to kill you?”

You couldn't help but grin. “Wouldn’t that go to show I’m Fae after all? Yes.”

That was all Yunho needed to flip the switch. His fingers dug into your jaw, holding your face in place, as he slanted his lips against yours. You found yourself kissing him back with equal ferocity, a hunger pushing you to be closer to him. 

Yunho grumbled angrily, fumbling at your unfamiliar clothes. Eventually, he managed to push up your sweater and bra above your boobs and was currently sucking on one nipple while massaging your other breast. 

You let out a low whine when his fingers tickled down your ribs, leaving your breast and moving to wriggle under your pants. Your hips bucked forward, looking for that friction that you were craving. 

Yunho grunted, pulling his hand from your pants.

“Wh-why?” You couldn't help but demand. 

“These offend me. They need to be out of the way.” Yunho slipped his thumbs on either side of your hips and yanked down both your pants and your underwear down to your knees. 

Knelt, his face level with your cunt, he spread your pussy lips and started to hearteningly lick at your clit. He had you mewling with the sensation, making your climax built with his skilled tongue. 

“Please, Yunho,” you moaned. “Put your fingers in me.”

This Fae was beyond frustrating. He left your cunt and stood up. You pouted that you weren’t going to feel those wonderful fingers inside of you. 

“I must claim you,” Yunho murmured under his breath. 

His hands moved to his pants and pulled them down under his balls. Your eyes widened in surprise and delight to see that he was long. Fully hard, he bounced against his stomach, and you licked your lips. The weight of him on your tongue would be wonderful, you thought to yourself. 

Yunho bent to scoop your legs from under your knees, effectively bending you in half, your back still against the tree, and your arms still wrapped in Yunho’s shadows above your head. It made it easy for him to slip along your wet folds to aid in pushing into you.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned loudly as Yunho’s cockhead pushed into your clenching hole.

Yunho slapped his hand over your mouth again. His eyes were hooded and looking down at you as he slid into you fully. “You are…so warm.” His lips pressed together, and he closed his eyes like he was taking in the moment. “So tight.”

You found yourself enjoying the domineering man melting for your pussy. You clenched down on him and elicited a moan from his beautiful lips. “Fuck me, Yunho,” You whispered. 

His eyes snapped open, dark and glittering. “It would be my pleasure.”

The tall, Fae man jackhammered into you, hips moving at a speed that was sure to split you apart. You made muffled noises of pleasure against Yunho’s hand. 

And when you sneakily licked his palm again, he pulled his hand away, if only to push his fingers into your mouth. The pads of his tongue pressed firmly down on your tongue, effectively silencing you in a different way. 

Yunho’s other hand pressed down on your stomach, and you found your bonded mate smiling at the bulge there. You only moaned again, sucking down eagerly on his fingers. The same hand pressed against your abdomen moved lower until his thumb began thrum against your clit. 

In no time, you were seeing stars. You screamed with Yunho’s fingers in your mouth. It was that good. Your heart felt so full, so complete. A string of gold showed that both your hearts were connected now, permanently with this action done in the Darkling Forest. 

Yunho pulled out and jerked himself off. He bent your body sideways and sent strings of come onto your bare stomach. He cried out with his orgasm, those pretty fingers of his making himself feel good. Yunho coming was a feast for the senses. 

“I’m…I come from…” Yunho panted as he came down from his climax. “My family is fertile. I can’t afford to come inside of you. I don’t want to share with you anyone.”

You grinned, still bent in half. “You do love me!”

Yunho’s ears turned pink at your claim. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours as he let go of your legs and released your wrists. “I…”

You patted Yunho’s cheek fondly. “That’s okay, if I’m a Fae, I’m sure we’ve got plenty of time for you to admit this to me. Now, are you going to tell me the name of the man trying to kill me?”

Yunho’s eyes darkened and giggled. This immortal life was about to become really fun.

[dommedahlia]

a little bit more about me and this blog..

(a anon emoji list will be added soon)

about me

i don’t send nudes, and if you wanna sext with me, i only do it for money. suggestive and flirty asks are okay tho. if you wanna sext with me, or have any questions about that, feel free to send me an ask or dm about it. any other types of dms not involving sexting are welcome tho. (if i happen to dm you with a intention of sexting, i of course don’t want anything for that.)

i don’t respond to most of my dms, but you can always keep trying.

my name is dahlia, but you may also call me dahl. (if i get to know you a little bit better, lia will also be fine.)

located in germany.

i speak german, english and french.

i‘m 25 years old.

my birthday is january 12th.

i’m a cis woman.

i‘m black.

switch with a massive dom lean.

i‘m bisexual and i have tiny preference for men.

kinks/limits

kinks: degradation, praise, humiliation, edging, overstimulation, lactation, biting, bondage, scratching, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, ruined orgasm, impact play, extremely light knife play, pet play, primal play, dirty talk, objectification, temperature play, feminization, choking, light somnophilia, cock stepping, chastity, light spit kink, creampies (without pregnancy), collaring

unsure: abdl, age play, food play, corruption kink

limits: free use, rape(-baits)/non-consensual sex, extreme knife play, piss-kink, hard sadism(going as far as breaking bones, etc.), owner/slave lifestyle, scat, vore

rules

if you’re homophobic, transphobic, racist, a satanist or fetishize body fat, don’t interact with this blog.

have your age on a pinned post or in your bio. otherwise, you will be blocked.

if you’re a minor, don’t interact with my blog at all, please. so that means; no liking my posts, no reblogging my posts, no dming me, no commenting on my posts and no sending me asks!

ko-fi info

donate to me here or buy sexting sessions

[lesbianhighgrace]

If you are a man, minor, racist, homophobe, transphobe, zionist, TERF, or any flavor of an ignorant fuck STAY AWAY FROM MY BLOG.

Please DO NOT interact with my blog if you post anything related to EDs, I fully support and celebrate healing but EDs are a big trigger for me.

❣️Now that it’s just me and the cool homosexuals… Hi, baby! 😚

I’m Ms. A (24, she/her)

❣️Femme lesbian - switch dom leaning - femme4all but submissive butches/mascs are my weakness.

❣️Interests I can talk about for days: food, travel, women’s healthcare and rights, LGBTQI+ history (if you’ve read “Sappho Was A Right-On Woman” let me know when we will get married), whatever book I’m obsessing over at the moment, women.

❣️This is my public diary so be ready for everything from horny posts to depressive thoughts and everything in between.

❣️Asks are open to everyone just be a decent human being and please add your age/pronouns.

❣️Claimed Emojis 💕,👩‍🔬,🐝(more like forced), ⭐️, 🌟,🫀, 🦴🐾

❣️DMs are open to mutuals (love you all) but please don’t bother if you can’t hold a conversation outside of a sexual context.

Likes: Receiving (R), Giving (G)

Service subs (♡) • Sweet petnames (G,R) • Praise (G,R) • Teasing (G,R) • Edging (G) • Bondage (G) • Light degradation (G) • Knife play (G) • Overstimulation (G,R) • Marking (G,R) • Ruined orgasms (G) • Pain play (G,R) • Intox (G) • Wax play (G,R) • Will add more as I remember but always ask before assuming, please

Dislikes:

Incest • Scat, vomit, piss • Ageplay • Hardcore CNC • Rape play • Will add more as I remember but always ask before assuming, please

[fxmdomstuff]

𓆩Hello sweethearts𓆪

This is an nsfw blog so MDNI!

I'm 18 yo, afab, and a dom leaning switch. Asks are always open and DMS are open but I can't always answer I'm very busy so I'm picky with who I choose to talk to, hope you'll understand.

Also, I'm a virgin, so I don't actually have experience in anything, this is just a place for me to talk about my fantasies and meet interesting people.

▷Gender: 🤷. I'm a female, idc how you wanna see me but I'm a bit more mas presenting. For more

▷Sexuality: bisexual, preference for men.

▷Pronouns: anything.

▷Instagram: mommybydaydaddybynight

To DM me:

- be interesting and have a personality other then being a sub.

- be between the ages of 18 to 25, I don't mind 17yo writing me (which happened) but the conversation won't be sexual.

- don't be cringe. Ffs stop using these emojis, Yk which ones

My kinks:

╰ Fdom

╰ Overstimulation

╰ Edging

╰ Humiliation

╰ Praise

╰ Pegging/anal play

╰ Dacryphilia

╰ CFNM (clothed female naked male)

╰ Spanking

╰ Slight sadism

╰ Dumbification

╰ Light bondage

╰ Brat taming

My limits:

× Scat

× Blood/knife play

× Physical violence that's borderline abusive

× Feet

× Pet play

× Needles

× Diapers

× Piss

× Vomit

× Misgendering

If you like me stuff, give me a follow or buy me smt from my wishlist if you'd like. I'm not into financial control but I also don't mind it if you wanna show your gratitude;). Again, asks are always welcome, I love to head how needy I make all of you sluts, it's adorable<3

[valiantstarlights]

[Loving You is Cherry Pie] Chapter 3

Read on AO3 / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Featuring doting father Alpha!Hob (43) and his son, recently presented Omega!Dream (20).

By happy coincidence, this chapter fills the prompts 'Call in the night' and 'College' for @mr-sadman's Sandmanniversary2024 Day 2. 😊 Thanks to @seiya-starsniper for helping me with one of the sections! 🥰

CWs: Off-screen violence. 👀

--

SAN

"...'llo?"

"Good evening, Corinthian."

"Whuh-- (crash) Shit-- (a dull, heavy sounding thud) Fuck! (pained wheeze, rustling fabric, scrambling) Hello? Dream?"

"...I'm here. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm-- (pained hiss) I'm good. I just, you know. Fell."

"I heard. Has the fall exacerbated your injuries?"

"...Uh, what?"

"Exacer-- Has the fall made your injuries worse?"

"Oh. Uh... (rustling fabric) No? I don't think so?"

"That's good."

"..."

"..."

"...Are you calling to check up on me? 'Cause I'm fine. That bitch didn't beat me up as badly as I beat her."

"I apologize."

"What for? If anyone should be apologizing, it's her. Are you alright?"

"...Yes. Thank you for lending me your jumper. I'll give it back to you after I have it washed and scent-cleaned."

"No. Keep it."

"Corinthian--"

"I'm serious. I have more, and black looks better on you than it does on me anyway."

"..."

"(sigh) It doesn't... It doesn't have to mean anything. But if it keeps you warm and my scent protects you from--"

"(sharp inhale) You...?"

"...Yeah. But if you're worried I'll tell anyone, I won't. Trust me."

"..."

"Look, I... (deep breath followed by a long, drawn out sigh) My omega parent. He also..."

"...Oh. Is he..?"

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault. (sigh) I promise, I don't have any hidden agendas or whatever about you keeping my sweater. Jumper? And anyway, I already know you don't like me--"

"I did not say that. It's just, that night, I wasn't... I was having a very stressful evening."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"So today... Thank you. For doing what you did."

"Of course. It was the proper thing to do."

"..."

"(stifled yawn) Oh, sorry."

"No. I have taken too much of your time that you could've otherwise spent sleeping. Good night, Corinthian."

"Yeah, alright. And you're sure you're okay? Aside from..."

"Yes."

"Well, alright then. G'night, Dream."

--

RG

Good morning, baby! I hope you slept well. (brightly smiling emoji)  Eleanor and I went jogging awhile ago. We're early enough to watch the sunrise for a bit, and now we're dining at this restaurant owned by a nice old lady who used to be a weightlifter in her youth! I think that even at 70, she has bigger muscles than I do. Here's my order: one chicken burger with a side of sweet potato fries, and a watermelon smoothie. (RG sent a photo.) [Image description: A delicious-looking chicken burger piled high with romaine lettuce is on a porcelain plate beside a generous serving of sweet potato fries. The watermelon smoothie is three-quarters full, and while it has a drinking straw leaning against one side of the glass cup, there is a hint of light pink lipstick on the rim of the cup. Across the table, Eleanor's pale, delicate hands are seen holding a knife and fork over her own food, which is some type of steak salad.] I think you would love the food here. Shall we go together next time?

(✔ Seen)

--

SAN

I'm serious about the sweater. Keep it. And if you need someone to talk to, just call. No strings whatsoever. 

Noted. Thank you.

--

The Raven Tricycle

Matthew Youngman Luce, is Dream wearing an alpha's jumper? My beta nose can't smell anything rn except food, grass, and other students panicking about being late for class. Oh hey that rhymed! (smiling emoji with shades)

Lucienne Oldman He is. Can't place whose scent it is, though. Any ideas, Jessamy?

Jessamy Middleman Later.

Matthew Youngman Okay he's gone now. (Matthew sent a GIF.) [Image description: A posh blonde woman in a white sundress is slowly sipping her tea with obvious enjoyment. The text below reads, "Spill the tea, sis."]

Lucienne Oldman Why are you still typing? Just tell us out loud.

Jessamy Middleman Matty is 100% gonna yell. I'm typing so he can just yell in all caps in the chat.

Matthew Youngman (roll eyes emoji) OW You didn't have to hit me.

Lucienne Oldman You were bouncing your leg. I got annoyed. Just wait patiently for Jessamy to finish typing.

Matthew Youngman (roll eyes emoji)

Jessamy Middleman Okay. So before I say anything, I want you both to know that I learned about all of this from other people. Not Dream. Dream didn't tell me ANYTHING.

Lucienne Oldman Go on.

Matthew Youngman (Matthew sent a GIF.) [Image description: A cartoon hamster wearing a chef's uniform is chopping some chives. The words, 'CHOP CHOP' are flashing on the bottom area of the GIF.]

Jessamy Middleman Yesterday afternoon, Hippolyta Trevor (omega, Interior or Fashion Design major, not sure which) confronted Dream about him """stealing""" her boyfriend.

Matthew Youngman Nah. No way.

Jessamy Middleman That's what the quotation marks are for, Matty.

Lucienne Oldman Who's her boyfriend?

Jessamy Middleman Hector Hall. Alpha. Architecture major. Good-looking guy, but definitely not Dream's type.

Matthew Youngman And you know his type? OW STOP HITTING ME

Jessamy Middleman Anyway. So apparently, Hippolyta threw an entire bucket of very cold and very disgusting sewer water at Dream, threw the bucket AT him, pushed him so hard he fell on the floor on his ass, and then she starts to yell at him for being an S word.

Matthew Youngman THE FUCK??

Lucienne Oldman Christ.

Matthew Youngman CRAZY PSYCHO BITCH Also S word??? 

Lucienne Oldman Slut, Matthew.

Matthew Youngman I knew that.

Lucienne Oldman Are there videos of this?

Jessamy Middleman No. Not that part, anyway. The videos taken by the witnesses only caught the later parts.

Lucienne Oldman And then? Did Dream fight back?

Jessamy Middleman Not physically? He apparently just said something.

Matthew Youngman Something???

Jessamy Middleman The person I heard it from was more focused on Hippolyta going batshit crazy to hear what Dream said.

Lucienne Oldman But they said Dream said something to Hippolyta. Definitely?

Jessamy Middleman Yeah.

Matthew Youngman And then? What did she say? In reply to Dream? Oh my god you're typing so muchhh (one crying emoji followed by three tea emojis)

Jessamy Middleman Just more accusations of Dream being, and I quote, "a slut who would spread his legs for anybody." And then Dream said something like, "You would know." Which, while being a sick burn, also made Hippolyta scream at him some more then tackle him to the ground.

Matthew Youngman TEAM DREAM TEAM DREAM ALSO DESTRUCTION 100 FOR HIPPOCRATES HIPPOLYTA*

Lucienne Oldman There's more. You're still typing. Good gods.

Jessamy Middleman But just as she was about to beat Dream up MMA style, Corinthian (yes, that one) comes out of nowhere, bodily lifts Hippolyta from Dream and throws her against the nearest wall, takes his jumper off and tells Dream to put it on, and then he starts to beat HER up.

Lucienne Oldman SHUT THE FUCK UP MATTHEW

Jessamy Middleman I TOLD YOU HE WOULD YELL

Matthew Youngman SORRY

Lucienne Oldman And then?

Jessamy Middleman Dream managed to leave unnoticed in the chaos, Hippolyta is currently recovering in the omegan wing of the infirmary but won't get punished AT ALL, and Corinthian is suspended for a month.

Matthew Youngman (five exclamation point and question mark emojis)

Lucienne Oldman But that's ridiculous. He was only defending Dream against Hippolyta.

Jessamy Middleman Yeah, I don't think administration knows that. The most circulated videos only caught Corinthian beating Hippolyta up, while there is absolutely zero videos circulating right now that caught Hippolyta attacking Dream.

Lucienne Oldman Seriously?

Jessamy Middleman Yeah. And anyway, to administration, it's still an alpha male beating up an omega female. It doesn't look good.

Lucienne Oldman Without any context, Corinthian WOULD be seen as the bad guy. Never mind that he was only acting in defense of Dream. Christ. What a mess.

Matthew Youngman So now Dream is...what, wearing Corinthian's jumper to show everyone that he and Corinthian are together, actually, and that Corinthian was just defending his omega boyfriend from getting beaten up by another omega?

Lucienne Oldman They're not together, Matthew.

Matthew Youngman Yeah, but...If you don't know either of them, you'd think that, right? If you saw Dream wearing Corinthian's jumper?

Jessamy Middleman Right.

Matthew Youngman What can I say? I'm a genius. (smiling emoji with shades)

Jessamy Middleman Do I tell this to Mr. G? I feel like I should, but...

Lucienne Oldman Jessamy, you know he would descend upon the university like an angel of the apocalypse and ruin Hippolyta's life for what she did. Possibly even Hector's as well.

Matthew Youngman She deserves it though. But wait, what about the Hector guy?

Lucienne Oldman What about him?

Matthew Youngman Where was he when all this happened?

Jessamy Middleman Fuck if I know. But he IS one of the alphas leaving courting gifts for Dream at our dorm. That's why I recognized his name when it was mentioned, and how I know what he looks like.

Matthew Youngman FUCKING PLOT TWIST

Lucienne Oldman And you're sure nothing happened between him and Dream?

Jessamy Middleman 100%. Dream isn't pregnant with Hector's kid or whatever it is you're thinking. What? Don't look at me like that. Do you really think that if I find out that someone forced Dream into something he didn't want to do, that I wouldn't inform Mr. G. immediately, beat the person up while waiting for him to arrive, and then gleefully watch as he unalives them with his bare hands?

Matthew Youngman ...You scare me sometimes, sis.

Jessamy Middleman Good.

Matthew Youngman (Matthew sent a GIF.) [Image description: A cartoon raven is hiding inside a Halloween pumpkin. It is very cautiously peeking one eye out through one of the pumpkin's 'eyes.']

Lucienne Oldman I think you should talk to Dream first, Jess. Find out what really happened, and then decide whether or not Hippolyta Trevor deserves to meet her end in the form of Mr. Gadling.

Jessamy Middleman Okay. Hold on.

Lucienne Oldman I didn't say you have to do it right now. 

Matthew Youngman Shhh

--

Jessamy

"(whispering) Yes?"

"...Why are you whispering?"

"(whispering) I'm in class right now."

"What class? You're free until 2:30."

"(whispering) Sitting in. What is it?"

"...Never mind. Let's talk later."

--

The Raven Tricycle

Jessamy Middleman He's sitting in on some class.

Matthew Youngman Why are we still talking over chat? My thumbs are taaairdddeiueioueio

Jessamy Middleman Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were the one typing a whole bunch. (roll eyes emoji)

Lucienne Oldman Maybe he's sitting in on Corinthian's classes and taking notes for him as thanks?

Jessamy Middleman Probably.

Lucienne Oldman Stop biting your nails.

Jessamy Middleman Sorry. I'm just. I don't know what to do, Luce. I feel like I should tell Mr. G what's going on, but I KNOW Dream wouldn't want me to.

Matthew Youngman Then don't? Butt out and quit being a busybody? FUCKING OW STOP IT (three ambulance emojis, followed by three police emojis)

Lucienne Oldman Alright, children, that's enough. Jessamy, stop punching Matthew. Matthew, stop antagonizing Jessamy.

Matthew Youngman SHE STARTED IT

Jessamy Middleman I am NOT a busybody!

Lucienne Oldman (sighing emoji) Stop fighting for a second and let me type.

Matthew Youngman (Matthew sent a GIF.) [Image description: A teenage girl wearing a muddy shirt and denim overalls is sticking her tongue out mockingly and making faces.]

Jessamy Middleman (middle finger emoji)

Lucienne Oldman As much as it pains me to admit it, Matthew is PARTIALLY right. Out of the three of us, you know Dream the best. And if you think that he wouldn't want you to go behind his back and tell his dad about what happened, then you shouldn't. THAT BEING SAID, if this escalates, like say Hippolyta gets better and decides to attack Dream again, then with or without Dream's consent, you HAVE to tell Mr. Gadling. Stop biting your nails, Jessamy. Seriously what is it? What are you not telling us?

Matthew Youngman Is this about Corinthian? Because like, the guy did rescue Dream from getting beaten into a pulp. AND he lent him his jumper after Hippolyta threw nasty ass water at him.

Jessamy Middleman Just really worried, I guess.

Matthew Youngman sus

Jessamy Middleman Fuck off.

Lucienne Oldman Let's just continue this later. You and Matthew have a class in five minutes.

Matthew Youngman I'm vamoosing Bye old people

Jessamy Middleman Kk Have a good time at the library! (cheerful hug emoji)

--

SAN

"Hey."

"Yes?"

"Are you the one who sent me handwritten class notes?"

"Perhaps."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to. As thanks."

"...Oh. Uh...thank you. That's really... Thank you."

"Of course."

"I mean...wow. (paper rustling) These are really detailed."

"Were you expecting anything less?"

"Honestly? I wasn't expecting anything at all. (paper rustling) Your handwriting is fucking gorgeous."

"..."

"Oh. Uh. Sorry. I didn't-- That doesn't-- I wasn't flirting. I was just--"

"It's fine. Thank you. For the compliment."

"Yeah. Of course."

"..."

"...So uh. Thanks. For the notes."

"Yes. You're welcome."

"I'm gonna hang up now."

"Goodbye, Corinthian."

"Bye. (muffled) 'Fucking gorgeous?'  What the hell is wrong with me? Stupid, stupid, stup--(the line abruptly cuts off)"

"...(hangs up)"

--

Dream

Hey, baby. I know you're busy being the most brilliant student your university has ever seen, but if you could just text your lonely Papa how you are right now, you would make me the happiest man in the world. Hey, Bean. Aunt Jo here. Confiscated Hob's phone for a sec because he's being incredibly needy and pathetic. You're okay though, right? Aside from the seenzone you subjected him to earlier this morning?

I'm fine. Must've snoozed while replying. Is he drunk?

As an animal that rhymes with drunk. I can't remember which one that is right now. But I'm not drunk! I'm tipsy. That's a very important distinction.

Take care going home.

Will do, Beanie. Love you! Hob is fighting me right now, claiming that he loves you more, but gzlutqkharsgz Don't listen to your Aunt Jo, baby. I love you the most. Not more, but most. More than anything or anyone.

I'm calling Mervyn.

--

Mervyn

Got your dad and aunt safely home, kid. (Mervyn sent a photo.)  [Image description: Jo and Hob, both dressed in business wear, are lying on long, comfortable-looking couches parallel to each other. They have hand towels over their eyes. Their footwear have been removed and are placed on the floor next to their feet. On the coffee table between the two couches is a plastic pitcher full of water, two plastic cups, and two white pills. There is an empty bucket on the floor near Jo's head.]

Thank you, Mervyn. Say hello to your family for me.

Yep. (Mervyn sent a video.) [Video description: Mervyn's voice from behind the camera is immediately heard. He says, "Dream says hi." The man being filmed is an older Chilean gentleman who smiles brightly at the mention of Dream's name. He says nothing and just waves at the camera. In his arms is a sleeping corgi.] After I stopped recording, he asked how you are and when you'll visit. I think he's itching to cook up a feast. For my sake please say you'll go.

I'll go.

(Mervyn sent a video.)  [Video description: Mervyn's husband, now sitting in bed to his left, is excitedly flipping through a thick notebook filled with handwritten recipes. He has a bunch of bookmarks on one hand, and he is marking pages as he goes.] Bring food containers if you know what's good for you.

Dare I ask how many?

At least 50.

...Will do. Good night to you three.

Good night, kid. (Mervyn sent a photo.) [Image description: The corgi is now sleeping on its back in the space between Mervyn and his husband's legs. The bedside lamp on the left side is still on, implying that Mervyn's husband is still looking at recipes.]

--

RG

Good morning, baby. Sorry about yesterday. Jo and I did a cheese and wine tasting, and...well. But I meant what I said. I do love you the most, and it would make me very happy to get updates from you. How you are, what you're eating, what you're learning in class, what's going on in your friend group's DND campaign...anything, really. Only when you're not too busy, though! I just miss you a lot these days, and it would mean the world to me to hear from you more often.

(You sent a photo.) [Image description: A beautiful pink-hued sunrise in the background looks striking against the greys of university buildings in the middle ground. The foreground is a bit chaotic, however, with Jessamy and Matthew having photobombed the shot. Jessamy is making a silly face and holding up a peace sign, while Matthew is a blur in mid-air, caught in the middle of a jump kick. Lucienne is at the very edge of the photo with a cup of coffee in her hands, looking very done with the younger two's antics.] It's a beautiful day.

Still not as beautiful as you, baby. But thank you for the update. Love you.

(black heart emoji)

[pinkcannibal]

um um um adult ghostface!misty quigley with fem!reader who she gets obsessed with and instead just stalks EYES EMOJI been thinking of this and nothing else

oh this is so personal to me. misty!ghostface you will always be famous

you are hyperaware of the recent killings in your small town and become super paranoid, always double checking your locks and never staying out too late now

your neighbour, misty (who you've literally had a crush on for months) is always checking up on you and making sure you feel protected by hanging out, watching movies, cooking dinner with you, when you feel particularly unsafe

it worsens your crush, and you're a complete lovesick puppy bc sometimes she even sends you texts if shes at work and can't make it, making sure you're okay

unbeknownst to you, this has skyrocketed into an obsession, one that misty is addicted to now. she doesn't have a ghost face partner, or a person who calls, she does it herself (this is misty quigley, shes never getting caught) so she's free to spiral into these unhealthy thoughts abt you as much as she likes with no distraction

if mistys feeling a particular high from a kill, she'll climb through your window still in her costume covered in blood and just stare at you, head tilted and thumb idly rubbing at the hilt of her knife

misty does not like it when you stir from nightmares, or whimper from awful dreams. she gets irrationally angry at an unknown force she can't protect you from

she tries to gauge your reaction to ghost face and the killings, rambling about a true crime podcast that has you a little uncomfortable as you lean into her with your cheek on her shoulder for comfort.

she internally smiles and sinks into the touch, knowing her tactic has worked. "misty? can we um, talk about something else?" she would just frown, blink back to you, and reassure you that "you have nothing to be scared of, honey, okay? ill protect you."

(which you find hilariously endearing. she's five foot two and can barely reach the top cupboard in the kitchen, how she would protect you from a murderer is beyond you)

oooh and the reaction to finding out its her?

you wake up from misty getting caught up in her excitement coming through your window, making too much noise. and you'd just immediately scream and crawl back on your hands against your head board at seeing her masked body

misty would immediately try and reassure you through your panic. hands out, head tilted in confusion at your reaction, just instantly pulling off the mask and saying

"its me!" which makes you whimper in fear and betrayal and hurt. she'd be smiling, eyes crinkling at the edges. but her face would drop immediately as you start to shake. "no, no no, dont be scared, i wont hurt you." she'd snort, fixing her glasses and rolling her eyes at the mere idea. "youre my favourite!"

[kerryweaverlesbian]

do a director's commentary on an overcrowded empty room [gun emoji]

Also known as The sampreg abortion fic! Obviously this commentary will be talking about abortion, pregnancy horror and unwanted pregancy just as the fic does, so, just a little warning.

I'll start with the title! It's "an overcrowded empty room" in Sam's head because he has so many guys in there (his soul, soulless!sam, cage memories sam who is locked away, meg in the past, and potentially the foetus eventually, if it's anything like Jack) but he's got those missing memories, hence, empty. Plus, it signifies Meg's (and the pregnancy's) oversize presence in the physical space of the room they are in. Okay, now into the fic:

The room is cold. Freezing, even. Sam’s breath is misting even without the ghost being present. He rubs his sleeve over the misted window and peers out, catching the double flash of Dean’s light from the opposite building and sending his own signal back. Some time over the next two hours the restless spirit of Providence Carter is going to manifest in one of these buildings and try to reach down one of their throats to stop one of their hearts with her brittle, icy fingers. Revenge for being locked out in the snow 200 years ago, or at least that’s the theory.

Turning from the window, Sam surveys the small room. Thin plaster walls painted with a faded pale sun over the door frame. Exposed wood floor with visible splinters striking up from the planks. One table, one chair, one well-made bed, and one demon-turned-situational-ally. No places to hide.

This is going to sound like I'm lying but this opening was genuinely the hardest thing to write lmao. I kept changing my mind about the setting, even after discussing with @autisticandroids when to place it in the season (thank you for that, by the way!!). I was stuck between a stake-out and them getting locked in adjacent cells during the episode Unforgiven. Here's some excerpts from that original beginning:

Sam watched the sheriff walk away from his cell and clenched his jaw. How was he supposed to make up for whatever his body did here when he's locked up? Hell, how is he supposed to make up for it when he doesn't know what he did? He cuffs the bars lightly to let off some frustration. It doesn't help. It just makes his knuckles cold. "Aw, keep pawing at them, kitty cat, I'm sure you'll get through eventually."

... "Meg?" When he turned, he saw the demon stretch against the bars of the cell next to his, showing off her stolen body and giving a teasing wiggle of her fingers. "What the hell are you doing here? "Oh, you know, living my life, running from Crowley. Hiding out in the last place he'd look for any self-respecting demon. I'd feel better with my knife back, by the way. Thought we'd worked out that it was a loaner." "Your knife - Ruby's knife?" Sam's mind raced. He must have seen Meg some time when his soul was missing. He doesn't know what happened, but he does know when to call a bluff: "I think we worked out that it's mine."

I was getting too much in the weeds of the facts of the episode, and I knew it would hold me back if I couldn't have them touch other than through the bars, and it didn't really make sense for Meg to hide out from Crowley's remaining loyal demons in a prison cell.

Through talking it through with my bff, I settled on doing the old "this ghost is going through something similar to their conflict". As Meg verbalises later, Sam is worried about being upstaged by a baby if he tells Dean about the pregnancy as well as being "locked out" of the decision on whether or not he is allowed his memories (which suggests he would similarly be locked out of a decision on keeping the baby).

“I’m thinking of making an offer,” Meg says, leaning her elbow on the table and airily gesturing around the room, “It’s really got that home-y feel.”

Sam rolls his eyes without replying and leans back against the window, keeping an eye on the street. He doesn’t want to miss it if Providence tries for someone else, if they’re wrong about her range of power.

While part of this fic is exploring how Meg and Sam are similar, Meg and Dean are also very similar, so Sam is very good at brushing off her attempts at being annoying, lol

“Thank you, you’ve been a great audience,” Meg quips. “You know Sam, when you want someone to do you a favour, it’s polite to talk back to them.”

“You’re not doing me a favour, you’re here for the knife. Which you’ll never get if you let me die.”

As you can see, I retained Meg's motivation of wanting to get the knife from the alternative setting, so it wasn't a complete waste of time!

“Pity. Say, why do you think Dean took the angel? Do you think he was jealous? He was in a pretty big hurry to get him out of my sight.”

“Sure, Meg, all of our decisions revolve around you.”

Sam actually isn’t sure why Dean was in such a rush to claim Cas in their ‘split-up-and-look-for-clues’ meeting, but he has his suspicions. Dean’s been twitchy lately, getting Sam to repeat plans back to him multiple times, warning him not to ‘get carried away’, whatever that meant. Whatever the other Sam had done, it’d made Dean lose trust in both of them. Which isn’t fair, but when has life ever been fair?

Neither of them are completely right about Dean's decision here: Dean DOES want to stop Cas and Meg being alone together (because of the kiss. If they kiss again he'd want to be present for it lol); but his actual motivation is that Cas has been acting weird lately and even though Dean is doing his best to trust him, he is taking the opportunity to ask Cas if he's okay, without the risk of scratching Sam's wall by bringing up memories of the times they've seen Cas recently; but also, he doesn't fully trust Sam still, so 🤷‍♂️. Absolutely none of this is in-text this is just what I was thinking with these lines lol. Sam is being so insular right now that he couldn't figure out an explanation that isn't centered on him.

He wishes Dean would just tell him everything that happened, but he’s always hit by Dean’s fear of “The Wall”. Don’t scratch it, Death had said, but how can he not? He wakes from hazy dreams with his hands strangling the air, his aim is sharper and he’s started getting nauseous at the sight of blood, but fine, sure, he’s not allowed to know. There’s a kicking under his stomach sometimes, and a tiny whimpering cry in his ears in the early mornings, but he’s not allowed to know.

“So, what are you going to do with it?”

This is the first line I thought of when I first saw the prompt :3 I knew immediately it should be Sam and Meg talking through his options. Meg actually didn't seem to know Sam was missing a soul in Caged Heat, just that he was acting weird, so I had a cut line of her getting her information from higher sources, aka Balthazaar. I just think they'd be a fun pair.

Sam’s gaze snaps to Meg, and she nods casually at where his hand had come up to his stomach. He slices it away quickly, having not even realised he’d moved it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, but the words catch on the way out, unconvincing. Meg’s flat look is both unimpressed and amused.

Sam in canon isn't often scared while talking to demons, he is very good at putting up a brave face. Here, though, he's a raw edge after Hell and it's the first time he's talking about this to anyone.

“Uh huh. How far along are you? Five weeks? Six? When do you think it’s going to start growing fingernails?”

I hope everyone read the mpreg tag before getting this far because this would be baffling to just stumble into lmao.

The blood starts rushing in Sam’s ears, and he swallows hard against the burst of saliva in his mouth. He stares hard at a whorl on the floor, trying to count the rings, trying to block out Meg’s mocking confirmation of what he’s been afraid of ever since he came back to his body.

“I think it might try to scratch its way through your guts, if it gets big enough. Like a DIY C-section, only the surgeon’s an idiot. Do you think you’d choke on your own blood first, or would you feel it busting out, for every excruciating second?”

“Shut up. Shut up. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pregnancy horrorrrrr! Do you think this is something Meg has experienced in Hell. Morbid thought.

Meg laughs, rough, and it’s like a chainsaw through the neck, like an industrial sander forced into your face, like- like nothing.

Nothing.

He can’t remember what he’d just been thinking about. This has been happening to him since he got back. The blank flashes. He knows that a memory of the Cage is there, that the memory is happening to him, but not the content of it. It’s different from memories of the other him. It’s like memories of being soulless are hidden in a folder somewhere in his mind, but the memories of the cage are being manually deleted every time they pop up.

Where does memory live, he wonders, in the body or in the soul? Are those his memories, or are they someone else’s? Can he really call himself the real Sam if he’s missing the last year of his life, on Earth as it was in Hell?

Now we're getting into it!!! Thesis questions of the fic! Who IS Sam in season 7? My interpretation is actually that ensoulled!sam isn't fully "the real sam" either, since he needs to re-intergrate Soulless and Cage Memories Sam in a later episode. If Soulles Sam is all Id, then Ensoulled Sam is unchecked Superego, which is why he is consumed with worry about what is true and what is moral and what is socially acceptable which prevents him from being able to take the necessary survival action of abortion without being given an ethical "out" by Meg.

I don't think that interpretation fully checks out with how ensoulled sam acts for his part of the season but that's what I've done for this fic!

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” Meg muses, cutting into Sam’s rising panic, “it’s not going to get that far.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to get rid of it.”

This was the second half of the first line I thought of for the fic. Meg knows that Sam is going to get rid of it. A demon should be used to voice what people don't want to know about themselves, and Sam right now does not want to accept that he'd already made a decision that could be considered selfish when he is trying to prove himself moral. Abortion is not selfish, of course, but it can be perceived as such by others, and frankly likely would be by Dean. Dean is not anti-choice in general but he is pro-Dean's-choice-of-what-happens-to-their-family. I think if Dean did find out about the pregnancy and that it'd kill Sam he would be team abortion but he'd view it as a "necessary evil" of "killing a baby". He'd be saying things like "how many chances are we gonna have to be fathers" and "you were marked by the devil and you still turned out alright" in an ironic reversal of how he felt about Jack.

She scratches a fingernail over the surface of the table, a thin, rude sound in the silence that follows her pronouncement. Sam listens to it, though he doesn’t want to.

"Why do you- why do you think that?” He hates that he stumbles halfway through. If his dad was here he’d - well. If his dad was here he’d have a whole host of other problems.

This was a small flashback in an early draft:

Sam flinches. He doesn't mean to. It was the first thing Dad had trained out of him, banging surfaces at random and firing his gun by Sam's face and barking Sam to attention when he was engrossed in his studying. "Don't give it away," Dad had always said, "Only thing you've got against these things is your gun and your wits, and half the time you aint got your gun. Don't give them a free look inside your head. You have to stay in control." Control. Sure. Like that's not a pipe dream built on a pipe dream. He hugs further into the window.

But I already have interruptions of Hell memories, and I wanted to keep the fic within this room otherwise. If Sam could 'escape' to his other memories, and we had voices other than Meg and Sam's in the main fic, it would feel less like he's trapped in here and being forced to confront uncomfortable truthes.

“Hm. Could be I’m psychic,” Meg bounces her eyebrows playfully, “That was a fun year, right? You ever miss it? Being star of the show?”

(I actually disagree with the idea that Sam was "the main character" at the start of the show. There are two main characters and they have always shared screentime and balanced their -centric episodes)

“Meg, if you know something, I swear to god I’ll-”

“You’ll what? I can smoke out of this body before you can even blink, baby-boy, and then you’ll be choked out by the undead Puritan all by your lonesome, so, please, tell me what you think you’re going to do to me. And make sure to say it real slow for me, handsome, I think it could really get my motor running.”

Sam squeezes his hands into fists, then lets them drop. There’s no point rising to these little mind games. He looks out of the window again, watching a snowflake dissolve against the pane. A hot poker sizzling against flayed flesh. Nothing. Nothing. He sighs, and turns back towards Meg.

I made the room they're in cold as a counterpoint to Hell and the feotus which are increasingly very hot.

“What’s it like?”

“Honey, if you don’t know what getting turned on feels like, I’m sure we can-”

“Not that,” Sam cuts her off quickly, from years of experience with Dean’s stupid jokes, “Smoking out. Diving into someone else’s body. How do you know what’s you and what’s them? How do you keep track?”

“Aw, are you feeling all shook up? Poor baby. Well - I guess you won’t be the baby much longer, after you start showing.”

“Too scared to give me a real answer, huh?”

Haha, get her Sammy!

That gets her, her hand clawing on the table and her shoulders tensing. Sam’s not going to pretend it isn’t satisfying to see her on the back foot. Meg might raise her chin and sit back in her chair, but her eyes flick over black, which always happens when demons are feeling threatened.

Demons in my fics only try to look demon-y when they're feeling insecure 😈 and it's always cute to me! Very tsundere. Sam learned this demon factoid from observing Ruby, despite her treachery. I have a lot of thoughts about the day-to-day of samruby which will eventually come up in my megrubyava fic if I ever get these middle chapters done!

“Fine. Since you asked so nicely. I don’t bother with all that shit.” Sam’s brow furrows, and Meg laughs at him again, meanly. “Not what you wanted to hear, huh? Well it’s the truth. Every jump I’m a new Meg. You’ve seen me: I’m a gas. I fill my containers. If there’s something in there that gets mixed in, then it gets mixed in. I take them with me. Ms Masters gave me her name. This one gave me her sparkling personality.”

This concept is from Meg saying, in born under a bad sign, that she IS Sam now while she was possessing him. Classic episode for possession enjoyers, so much barely covered on the subject of personhood.

Meg winks, and runs her tongue over her bottom lip, to which Sam rolls his eyes again. How do demons not get bored of the sexual harassment routine?

Lampshading her sexual harassment and having Sam not feel any fear from it is key to making his interactions with her not intensely horrible. I use the same technique in A Light Above Descending: to make Dean's violence against Sam not appear as Factual Domestic Violence I had Sam not act afraid of him and laugh when Dean suggests he would be. Meg needs to do and say awful things, but I need this fic not to be derailed into a different story.

“And me?”

“Dull as a pile of rocks, but what can you do?”

“No, what did you find in me, when you possessed me? What makes me?”

Sam expects other people to have a better read on him and his actions than he does himself. He knows, as shown later, that he is good at convincing himself he is doing the right thing and then it has dire consequences (as with the demon blood) as a result of being made constantly guilty and wrong, shown in the Amy Pond episode flashbacks of being harassed on the phone by John to research faster or people will die and it's on you if they do. At first he copes with this by rebelling and leaving, but by now he has taken hunting as the right thing to do even as his conscience struggles with it. Dean appears to instinctively "know" right from wrong and who to trust and Sam feels that he needs him as a moral guide.

Meg shakes her head. “I’m disappointed in you, Sam. Thought you were supposed to be a good listener. Let’s say it again for the people at the back: I don’t know. I don’t care what’s me and what isn’t. I’m never going to know, so why waste my time worrying about it?”

“So, what, you don’t try to figure it out because you’re too lazy?”

“Pretty much,” Meg stretches her arms out and slouches artfully, “I’m kind of a free spirit.”

Sam folds his arms. "That's bullshit."

“Is it?” The sarcasm is acerbic. “I’d love to know how you got to that one.”

“Because it is! I’ve seen how you think, Meg. I might not remember myself very well right now, but I remember you. Possession is a two-way street, you know? Where did my compassion go, if we got so linked? Where was my love for my family? You put it on lock-down. Because you were afraid. You were afraid of being more than a body, you were afraid of caring about anything other than yourself, and I think you still are. What are you even doing here, Meg? Bargaining for a knife so you can kill more of your own kind? Are you going to keep hiding for the rest of your miserable little life? You might tell yourself otherwise to make yourself feel better, but I know, deep down, you’re a coward.”

Meg being confronted with her fear of connection as a lead in to getting closer to Cas in s7 🥳 everything is about herrrr. It may be a bit clunky for Sam to say outright that she's more than a body but whatever sometimes you gotta just say it. As per Caged Heat, Meg is thoroughly objectified and locked into her body, a deeply horny episode about fluids and sex and what it means to be "blood".

There would have been silence after this outburst, if not for the fact that Sam is panting from the force of it. Then, the sound of Meg’s chair scraping back across the floor. The plastic-y swish of her faux-leather jacket as she stalks across the room, then the click of Sam’s jawbone when she grips his face painfully one hand and pulls his face down to glare at him directly in the eye. An invisible demonic weight keeps his feet heavy on the floor and his hands to the wall, but he glares back with feeling.

Meg has a plastic faux leather jacket because she is wrapping herself in the façade of unaffectedness, she is not inviting any other flesh onto hers because she IS a little scared of what it means for her personhood to swap bodies. This is why she hangs onto them until they are broken beyond repair. Other demons like Ruby, Lilith, the one on the plane, hop around unless they have reason to stay but Meg literally came back to the 2.0 body after it had been stabbed through the hand with the demon blade. Crowley, I think, hangs on to his body because he's transgender and he likes the feeling of it, he has a body that, as a man, commands respect and is not expected to be objectified in ways that Meg's young women and Sam bodies don't.

“You know what’s worse than being a coward, Sam?” An unseen force pressing suddenly on his throat keeps him from responding. “Being a dead coward. Being so weighed down with feelings that you can’t move. That you can’t breathe. That you can’t go through with what you have to do to survive. You want to know how I know you’re going to get rid of it?”

Meg digs at Sam’s stomach with harsh fingers, and a thrashing starts up under his skin, the needy cry whining its way into his hearing. He shuts his eyes for a moment, but he can’t dispel it.

“I know, because that’s what you have to do. Even if it doesn’t kill you on exit, it’s going to take your spot, right? What’s Dean going to care about coddling you if there’s a baby on the scene? He’s already avoiding you. Poor little Sammy is going to be left out in the cold again.”

Dean loves babies sorry Sam. It's that tough point of being the babiest sibling (like me :3). You want to be respected and impressive and independent...but also it's nice to be the babiest one...it's nice to be looked after and being able to go 🥺 to people who love you and have them be nice to you. It's a selfish, childish point of view, but it can still surface.

Struggling against Meg’s hold is pointless, but Sam does it anyway. The force on his throat presses harder, and floating spots start to flash in his vision. Meg��s expression changes to a dark glee, and she digs towards the kicking again.

“How about I do you a real favour, huh? How about I reach in there and drag the thing out by the hair right now? One time offer, devil baby gone. Before it starts stealing from you too. How much more space do you even have in that head of yours? Maybe it'll cook your brain out before it even manages to kill you. And when there's no one there to snack on it, shame really.”

Head smashed open against a cold wall, steaming ropes of brain hanging down, trailing into the mouth of. Nothing. Of the devil. Nothing. Hands pressing onto his stomach. Into his stomach. Nothing. Nothing.

Lucifer just put the baby in there because frankly I didn't want to write a graphic rape scene. The violation is what matters more than the mechanics.

“Please,” Sam gasps as soon as she releases his throat, his voice rasping and painful, “Please, Meg.”

He could say he was trying to ask her to let him go. To save the baby, and his life. She lied to him. She tricked him. He had to do it. It was the only way out. He had always been good at justifying himself, after the fact.

Not to get personal but this is born of my own worries that in disagreements with friends I am just better at articulating an argument and less likely to apologise to end an argument rather than actually being right with what I'm saying and a fair friend. Maybe my justifications to myself for inaction on certain things are excuses. I don't know. It's a quandary.

Meg's hand plunges, burning hot, through his stomach and grips something close to his soul. She pulls slowly, and it feels like watching his own arm being ripped off, but he bites back his scream, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. A sickly, dim light comes out with her hand, and it dissipates in under a second, with a single, pathetic whimper. Meg flexes her hand, which is now covered in small needle-point pricks of blood.

Sam is gooooood at pain tolerance and keeping a straight face which I loooove. It's a bit of wish fulfilment that a (soul) pregancy can be so easily terminated without further physical detriment. The feotus is kind of an idea: the fear of looking too closely at his memories, and once it is pulled out into the light and examined, while it hurts at the time it is ultimately dissolved. Sam needs to confront what he's been through, he needs to re-unite with his other, hidden selves.

“Hungry little bastard,” Meg comments, dropping her hold on Sam and letting him crumple to the ground.

A little nod to demon blood sam, I did have a vague idea initially of Meg donating some of her blood so that Sam could use his psychic powers to abort it himself but it seemed kinda convoluted so I did Sam psychically does that in the accompanying poem instead

There's a cold emptiness inside him, but as he keeps breathing, it lessens. Filling my container, he thinks, woozily, tightening his arms around himself.

“Thanks,” he chokes out, to which Meg tuts and rolls her eyes.

“I hope you don't think I did that for you. I just didn't want the Antichrist 2.0 running around. It's hard enough dealing with normal demons out for my guts.”

Justifying herself. Avoiding an uncomfortable truth. Caring, despite herself. Sam laughs, and then he can't stop laughing, even as Meg asks him what his goddamn problem is.

“That's what you got from me,” is all he can say, until the hysterical relief takes him back to laughter, all the way until Cas and Dean show up, having fought off Providence while Meg and Sam, in Dean's words, had a nice little playdate.

Sam can have a little giggle!! As a treat!!!! He has recognised the self through the other, he is on the right track to actualization! Yippee!

“What's ticklin’ you, Elmo?” Dean demands, as Sam's laugh bubbles to a close.

“Don't worry about it,” Sam says, flashing a grin to Meg, who frowns in disgust, “just remembered something funny.”

Hehehe. Here I will talk about how I arrived at the direction of the fic:

Seeing the prompt of sam coming out of the cage pregnant + it being acceptable to end in any direction, I thought about how Sam making the CHOICE to end the pregnancy in a season where his capacity is questioned would be healing for him. Some other non meg ideas for who he could speak to about this were Gadreel (for some delicious dramatic irony) or Balthazaar (as their only non-Cas angel contact who has access to heavenly weapons) as Soulless!Sam. But I felt that a) the meat of the fic should be how Sam feels about this, and Soulless!Sam wouldn't be concerned b) it's weird to do a fic about prgnancy horror without a woman character even present and c) I love Meg and one of the other prompts was about sammeg as dark mirrors of each other.

Pregnancy brings up a lot of thoughts and fears about personhood. Your brain chemistry changes, your body changes, people treat you as a living incubator and put their hands on you without permission, and when you are percieved as a mother you are again treated as an extention of your children, even outside the perilous role of Mother in Supernatural. Having fairly recently read NIGHTBITCH, the idea of the monsterous pregnancy/motherhood was fresh in my mind.

Especially given the (horrific) Jack mind control angle of season 12, if this pregnancy doesn't kill Sam, it might kill Sam, if this antichrist has the same power level.

Do I have any other thoughts on this one.......it was easier than I was anticipating to write Sam now that I feel I understand him better. Shout out to season 11 for making me into a samgirl :) and I deliberately reigned in my Meggirlism to try and portray her as more of a villain but still ride the line of Spike-style frenemy. I think that's it! Thank you for the commentary request ☺️

[agi-ppangx]

hello, hello, we meet again for a new idea of a ff. (atp I think I deserve an emoji or smth, so you can know it's me bcs get used to me giving you ideas. you write too beautifully to not have requests, I'm sorry. P.S.: js recommended you to a few friends and to my girlfriend and they all congratulated your skills of writing!💕)

anyway, what do you feel about an enemies to lovers trope with lee know? reader's a trainee (dancing is her speciality) and she is the first one to break the trainee record of being the fastest trainee to learn the basic JYP entertainment moves in 4 weeks, which she was very proud of. This until a new trainee comes, Lee minho, who learns the moves in 2 weeks, breaking reader's record. This gets reader annoyed and works even harder to prove the people around that she is a better dancer than him. They never talk, only rarely mocking each other when the other one wasn't around.

Then, it comes the Survival Show (im sorry - not really - but im changing the shows's rules. there will be two teams, FEMALE 2TEAM - made with Yeji, Yuna, Chaeryeong, Ryujin, Somi and reader - and MALE 2TEAM - we already know the contestants for this team- which will create then a group of people who didn't get eliminated. the elimination happens every episode, two people leaving) where the two of them have to work together in order to create the perfect balance for the choreography between the two teams. That's how they start getting along better and actually realize that they could be friends. They still had arguments but never something too big. When it was time for the elimination in episode 4, minho, reader and yuna were om the verge of elimination. However, only reader didn't get eliminated. Tears in everyone's eyes as minho and Yuna leave the set, but reader soon understands that it was minho's place to be in the boy group. She talks to JYP about being a bad idea the fact that it will be a mix group and that she prefers not to be involved in such a drama, in order to get minho back in the team. she succeeds and runs to minho, telling him the situation. (the last few sentences, make it soft like- fluffy? idk??)

~ the jeongin ff anon

💭the right thing

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

an: im really for the wait but the fic is finally here !! i hope you'll be satisfied with it❤️ also thank you so so much for recommending my blog, it means the world to me🥹 and yes, you do deserve an emoji !! please let me know which one you choose<3

“our dancing queen~” you heard ryujin’s voice which interrupted your conversation with yuna. you looked up at her, curious what was that about. “i have bad news for you,” she added, sitting next to you. you raised your eyebrow - bad news? what kind of bad news? “someone broke your record, yn.”

you weren’t mad at all. were you mad? no, no, you weren’t. it’s okay, it’s just a stupid record. it’s nothing important. it’s okay. it’s not like it was something you’d worked hard your whole life. no. no, it’s fine. you were completely fine- “yn, put the knife down,” yuna said firmly, looking at your dissociated figure. “put it down, did you hear me? you have this weird absent expression on your face and it looks scary.” you slowly put the knife in the sink, sighing loudly, and leaned your hands on the counter. you felt yuna’s arms wrap around you from behind, gently placing her chin on your shoulder. “you know it means absolutely nothing, right? you'll always be our dancing queen,” she whispered, trying to cheer you up a little bit. did it work? no, no it didn’t, but you knew you couldn’t sulk for the rest of your life, so you just nodded weakly and proceeded with your daily routine, trying to forget about everything. after all, you had to prepare for the showcase and you didn’t have time to worry about some random dude you’ll forget in a month anyway.

your next practice was intense to say the least. It all started with just yuna, yeji and you, but then some other trainees decided to join you and after some time almost the whole practice room was filled with people. and among those people was lee minho, dancing at the front next to you. his presence was making you nervous, but motivated you as well. you tried your best for hours, sweat (and some tears) were making its way down your face, muscles hurting and head spinning, but you didn’t slow down. minho noticed your state in the mirror and mumbled something under his nose, smirking, but you didn’t catch it. so, you stopped the dancing and took a step in his direction. “you wanna repeat that?” you asked, your cold piercing gaze was trying to burn holes in his head. but he just looked at you and shook his head. “i don’t know what you’re talking about. go back to practising,” he responded, visibly happy with your annoyance. “you definitely need it more than i do,” he added with an evil smile, much quieter, but that you managed to catch. you scoffed at his words, amused by his exaggerated self-confidence and decided to try ignoring him for the rest of the practice. you had to prove something, not to get into stupid fights with minho.

“you need it more than i do,” you said in a mocking tone when you decided to take a break from practising. you were currently sitting in a convenience store with the girls, fumbling with your noodles and losing your appetite just thinking about minho. you were furious. “who does he think he is, huh?” you rambled on and on, your head hurting from all the negative emotions that were building up inside you. “yn, i love you, but i think you care a bit too much,” chaeryeong said softly, taking a sip of her drink. you looked at her and raised your eyebrow. she noticed your not-so-friendly gaze and spoke again. “don't get me wrong, but it really doesn't matter that he beat the record. there are so many other people who are great dancers without breaking the record, it's just a formality.” you nodded weakly at her words. she was right. of course it didn't matter. “besides,” ryujin started with a mouthful of ramen. “you still can show you're better by debuting sooner than him,” she continued and went straight back to eating. she was also right. the only way to show you were better than him was debuting and that was your goal.

“a mixed group?” you huffed after the showcase was done. you were still in your stage outfit, catching your breath after an exhausting performance. JYP surprised you all, deciding to change the rules a bit and create a mixed group instead of choosing one of your teams to debut. it wouldn’t be anything bad, but since minho was a part of the male group, to say you were mad was an understatement. “yn, look at the positives - we might be able to finally debut. you’ve been here for so long already, you should be celebrating,” yeji said firmly and the rest of the girls nodded with approval. “i am happy, of course i am. and i'm gonna celebrate. i just don’t feel too fancy about the fact that i might end up in one group with lee minho,” you exhaled loudly, sounding more and more defeated with each word. “i mean, nothing’s sure for now. lots of us are gonna be eliminated, so maybe he’ll be one of those people?” ryujin suggested and earned a slap on her arm from yeji. “stop the negativity, no one’s eliminated yet. let’s just go eat something and don’t think about anyone else other than ourselves,” yeji exclaimed, hyping you all up and you decided to drop the topic for the night and enjoy your little success, knowing that there was just gonna be harder with each day.

“no, no, i'm not doing this,” you whined loudly, falling on your bed late at night. your body was aching from the whole day of practising and recording a song JYP asked you to create with the male group. he assigned the composing to chan, changbin and han, while the people who were responsible for choreography were you and minho. and to no one's surprise you weren't happy about this. but you had nothing to say since it was JYP's decision - you had to respect it.

that's how you ended up in the boys' dorm, alone with minho. it was awkward, to say the least. you didn't know how to behave and since minho hadn't really said anything else than “come in” and “you wanna drink something?”you just stood there in silence and looked around a little. the rest of the boys either went to eat or stayed at the company to practise, so it was really quiet there. “chan sent me the finished song,” he finally spoke, his voice soft and steady. you nodded and asked him to play it to you so you could think about the choreography a bit. you closed your eyes when the song started playing and listened intently, paying close attention to certain parts of the chorus. when the song was done, you opened your eyes and noticed that minho was staring at you. you raised your eyebrow and he cleared his throat, converting his gaze at his phone. “so, um… do you have any ideas where we should start?” he asked faintly and you started to share your concept with him.

that's how your little cooperation started. your first choreography was met with a huge enthusiasm from both teams as well as JYP himself. you did well and because of that minho and you were officially in charge of creating a perfect balance in choreographies between both teams. you weren't as mad as before, because you actually kind of enjoyed working with minho - he had different experiences with dancing and therefore he was able to share his unique ideas with you. it wasn't too easy though, because you both had strong characters and you struggled to come to a compromise sometimes, but regardless of your small disagreements you warmed up to him and felt this weird urge to spend more time with him. what was happening to you?

that's why, when episode 4 came and you two were on the verge of elimination alongside yuna, you felt as if your world was going to collapse. you struggled to breathe standing in front of JYP. he had this serious expression and was looking at the three of you. “yn and minho,” you heard his voice and stiffened, your heart speeding and tears welling in your eyes. “you were in charge of the choreography again, but something didn't work this time,” he continued and your hands started shaking. minho noticed it and quietly took your hand in his, squeezing it to reassure you. JYP shared his feedback with yuna as well and you exhaled shakily. you were scared. “yn.” you looked up at JYP again, expecting the worst. “for me your enthusiasm and willingness to work and become even better is clearly seen. and even if this week you and minho didn't do your job properly, i see the most potential in you,” he continued in a serious tone. “that's why you are the one to stay. you can come back to your team.” you stood there in shock, tears now streaming down your face. you bowed clumsily and took a step back, your vision blurry. you didn't really remember the rest of his words, but when he left the set, you rushed to yuna and minho and hugged them tightly, sobbing. “i'm so sorry,” you babbled. “i'm so, so sorry.” “it's okay, it's not your fault,” yuna said shakily. she then smiled at you and went to say goodbye to others. you then hugged minho again, burying your face in his chest. “you should be the one staying here,” you mumbled, sniffling. “i'll fix this,” you added, looking him in the eyes. he only patted your head and smiled softly. “it's okay, we did a great job anyway,” he chuckled. “bye, yn. i liked to work with you even if you hate me” “bye, minho. i don't actually hate you.”

it wasn't right. no. it was his place, he belonged here. you spoke to JYP once, but he brushed you off after a minute. then you spoke to him for the second time, he said no. you tried again, he told you his decision was made. but you didn't want to respect it. it wasn't right. after episode 5 you went to him again. this time, he listened to you, taking in everything you wanted to say about this being a bad idea. “i'm willing to switch places with him, just please bring him back,” you pleaded. but he only said you should go back to your dorm. you cried on your way there. and you cried yourself to sleep that day.

episode 6 and minho came back. you couldn't believe your eyes - JYP brought him back. you didn't really listen to the man when he was explaining everything. you only saw minho - his eyes were so sparkly and when they met yours, you saw him smile widely. then JYP left the practice room to give you some time to reunite and you didn't waste time. you ran to him and immediately wrapped your arms around his neck. you rambled on and on that you were so happy to see him again and explained the whole situation. you must've started crying at some point cause minho had to wipe some tears from your cheeks. “i make you cry a lot, huh?” minho said jokingly when you stopped the ramble. “no wonder you hate me,” he added and your smile faded. “i don't hate you. if i did, i would've choked you instead of hugging you right now,” you giggled, smiling again. “fair point. but if you don't hate me then how do you feel about me?” minho teased, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “i was hoping you would know by now.” “oh, i do. i just want you to say it out loud,” he said, his face getting closer and closer to yours. but you didn't respond to that, pecking his cheek instead and finally backing off a little to let the rest say hi to him. you were smiling the whole time and you knew you did the right thing.

taglist: @lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01

let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist🤍

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

[huntedhauntedhunter]

I have TADC agere headcanons...if anyone cares (prolly not haha)

Posting on art blog because I post my agere art here sometimes, so why not headcanons and writings too?

Will be tagged properly so you can blacklist it if you want.

Age regressors: Gangle and Pomni (FT. YOU)

Caretakers: Jax (yes and I will explain more later), Ragatha, and Zooble

Grandparent who spoils the agere and helps the caretakers: Kinger

I don't have...a spot/hc for Caine yet...sorry...feel free to tell me what you think he'd be good as though, and why/how!

------

🎀Agere Gangle: Its kind of obvious and she's not oblivious to it or in denial. She loves agere and finds it comfty and safe. She loves to draw for hours and have playdates with Pomni (she actually convinces Pomni its ok and to do it.)

I HC her caretaker as Zooble, who can be romantic or platonic! I just think Zooble would be a good caretaker for her.

📐Caretaker Zooble: Zooble is...meh about it on the surface. They don't care and they don't think they need to be so public about it. But once in the headspace, they're kind of like...a cigerette mom? Where they're sarcastic about everything, and they question almost all of your choices with a specific type of judgementalness...but they really care and if anyone (Jax) fucks with their baby, it's gonna go down.

Having Gangle as their little really opens up a protective side they didn't know they had in them. Beating the shit outta Jax becomes a more common occurence.

🤹🏻‍♀️Agere Pomni: Pomni is def in denial, and it takes a LOT of convincing from Gangle (and gentle coaxing from Ragatha telling her it's ok) to really let themselves get into it. She is very shy and anxious about it. At first she was paranoid about others finding out (namely Jax), but one Jax finds out and she becomes accustomed to...him, she really gets into. I feel Ragatha would be the best caretaker, whether platonic or romantic (altho I personally lean towards romantic!)

🔪Caretaker Ragatha: (Knife emoji is for a few reasons haha) I've seen everyone under the sun HC Ragatha as a caretaker...and so they've pretty much already said everything and I agree! Gentle, loving, sweet, but also firm and no nonsense. Her and Jax get into a LOT of fights over the littles...like, a lot. It's like watching two parents at a sports event scuffle over whose kid is better.

♟Grandpa Kinger: I HC Kinger as a grandpa figure. He isn't really a caretaker, but he spoils the littles and plays along with everyone whether he actually knows whats going on or not. Def lets them hide in his pillow fortress, whether to play in, sleep in, or be naughty and hide from their caretakers in. Teaches them about insects...plays silly games with them...etc.

🐇Caretaker Jax: OK...this one is purely for me and I have a lot amusing scenarios with Jax in which I think he'd be a fun and unique type of caretaker...So hear me out...(Since I don't see him as a caretaker for anyone in the circus, section will be xreader, sorry! I made him a caretaker for me, but if anyone does read this and enjoys it...here you go.)

It'd start with him finding out about you being an agere. And in typical Jax fashion, he would mock, berate, and tease the hell out of you every single chance he got. He would def make you cry and be paranoid, because he would go through your room and nitpick anything and everything he found.

Slowly though, and I mean SO slowly you wouldn't even notice it was happening...he would insert himself as your caretaker. Like, I'm talking he would just find amusement in teasing you and playing the part, making you upset and then saying shit like "what, aren't I a good daddy?" when he "helps" you fix the problem he caused...or sushing you by sticking a paci in your mouth, or threatening to spank you if you annoy him just a tad.

He would eventually just. Go to the playdates and sit between Zooble and Ragatha and just...start pretending he's your parent. Behind your back. You wouldn't realize he's doing this or talking about you in this way for awhile. You'd only realize it one day, when you Pomni and Gangle are having a fun competition, and you hear Jax yell at the others about how "his kids the best and gonna win", or some sports dad shit.

You don't know how to confront him, TBH...I'll let you insert how you'd personally confront him.

He's super teasing, loves having excuses to "punish" you (usually puts you in a poorly made baby jail), and acts like a mix between a deadbeat dad who only intercepts when he feels like it, and a protective dad who feels like he has to fight everyone about you being better than all the other "brats".

(Sorry the Jax part is so long, I just have lots of feelings about it...and IK the fandom would see "caretaker Jax" and laugh at how absurd that is which is fair, it's meant to be absurd! That's part of the fun and why I enjoy the idea so much.)

Anyways...yeah...that's it...just need HCs for Caine and Bubble and I'll be set....Sorry for how long this is and if you for some reason decided to read it...wow.

[dark-rpfinderr]

hello! offering up a fresh muse today, a piece of shit who always bites off more than he can chew! requesting partners who are 21+, as i am also 21+, for a ocxoc mxm thread! fandom or fandomless. trans and poc muses are welcome! this will feature plenty of dead dove! 🕊️ bring me your piece of shit so they can be fuck ups together! 🫶🏼

how to describe him aside from a son of a bitch who loves his power trips? horrible people skills; antagonistic, conceited, and always running his mouth, but hey, at least he's beautiful! that makes up for it, right!? bit of a knife freak, a gun freak. his manners aren't very good either, always speaking informally even to those above him. it's a good thing his night job doesn't have him interacting with others often!

got a couple basic plots for him in mind, some within fandoms and some fandomless. smut likely, as he enjoys it casually. he is a dom - leaning switch, though getting him to sub will require work! i am not looking for someone who is planning to play the sub the entire time, i would love if this were dom4dom. is your muse going to get bossed around by him, or does he think he can knock him down a peg?

roleplay replies are weekly and will take place over discord. i don't use tupper, but i can make the server. like and i'll reach out! thanks for reading!

EMOJI CODES HERE

like this post and anon will reach out!

[punkisnthere]

Pin Post for my silly little blog!!

Friendly Punk Trans man

Please feel free to Interact! Anon asks open!! You're welcome to claim an emoji as well, I'll list any claimed ones here :)

Claimed emojis! ~

-🦷🪽

He/Him Pronouns || Masc terms ONLY please || 19 Years old

I DO NOT SEND

Please Ask before sending pics!

DNI: Ageless/Blank Blogs, Detrans blogs || No Pr0shippers, Israel Supporters, All Lives matter supporters, Blue lives matter supporters, Feederism Blogs, Incest/Fauxcest blogs, Zoophilia Blogs, R@peplay blogs, Literally anything problematic please stay away from my content [will add more as I think of it]

Hi! My name is Moth or punk! This blog includes a variety of kink posting, but primarily sticks to posting Petplay!, Puppyplay!, Weed Intox Play!, BDSM!, And being overall really gay

I am a gay man! WLW are welcome to interact but this blog is run solely by a Trans Man for MLM purposes

I am Polyamorous, and I am currently in an Open Poly relationship with my two wonderful boyfriends [I am not looking for any other partners at this time]

I like and follow from my main account; @xxsolariumsunxx

Anon Asks / Regular Asks open!!

This blog is for!- 18+ only!!! If you are a minor, please do not interact. I cannot stop you from looking at my content, but yeah don't interact

Age must be in bio! Immediate block if it is not

Note,-

Diagnosed with Autism, ADHD, BPD, DID, And Ehlers Danlos Syndrome

I deal with chronic fatigue and pain, so my activity here may vary

Tag system -

#🍋🍰 - Post about @canid-thing

#🪪🩻 - Post about @jasper1364

#PunkIsHigh - Intox posting

#PunkIsOvulating - I feel like that speaks for itself

#Punk Barks :3 - Just Talkin :3

#Punk Whines :3 - Photo Posting

Switch bottom lean!

Kinks: Bratting, Biting, Light bondage, Humiliation, Overstim, being nervous <3, Proud Monster + Robot fucker, Toys, Predator/Prey, Petplay/Puppyplay

Not for me: anything that revolves things that should be in a bathroom, Knife usage, Gore/Snuff, Body Shaming, And absolutely anything deemed problematic

Please Interact: Trans Folks, Autistic people, Bgujffh yeah idk please be my friend

Dms/asks Open! feel free to say hi <0]

Don't come to my dms If you're looking for someone to top you, unfortunately I don't top people unless I have a close enough bond/connection with them

BDSM Test results under the break <3