#That was something someone else wanted him to do!

[greengoblinswifey]

Little Do You Know—Player 001/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader

summary—after making a passing remark on the possibility of the front man being attractive, your crush on young-il who unbeknownst to you is the front man, boils over. based on this request.

warnings— flirting, oral(f&m receiving), praising, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie.

The group sat gathered around with a small meal, the kind of makeshift dinner that felt comforting despite the bleak circumstances. Gi-hun leaned back, his arms crossed, recounting some story about the Front Man. “I’m telling you, he has cameras everywhere. He probably sees and hears everything we’re saying.”

The mood was tense, as it often was when the Front Man became the topic of conversation. But your lips twitched upward, a thought making you suppress a giggle.

Dae-ho, ever the curious one, caught it immediately. “What’s so funny?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in your direction.

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing. It’s silly. Forget it.”

Young-il, sitting across from you, tilted his head slightly, his expression soft. “Come on,” he said gently, his voice soothing in a way that made you feel oddly safe. “Anything you have to say, we’ll appreciate. Don’t hold back.”

Encouraged by his tone, you hesitated for just a moment before shrugging. “Alright, but don’t judge me.” You exhaled a breathy laugh, looking down at your lap for a second before glancing back up. “What if the Front Man is, like—really hot?”

The reaction was instant. Dae-ho choked on his milk, sputtering, while Jun-Hee’s eyes widened slightly before she went back to eating as if she hadn’t heard you. Even Jung-Bae, usually laid back, looked at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“Seriously?” Gi-hun said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“What?” you asked defensively, your shoulders lifting in mock innocence. “I’m just saying. It’s possible!”

Gi-hun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “We’re talking about a guy who might be orchestrating all this madness, and you’re worried if he’s good-looking?”

Before you could respond, your eyes flicked to Young-il. Everyone else was either laughing awkwardly or shaking their heads, but Young-il wasn’t saying a word. Instead, a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible to anyone else. Almost.

Your gaze stayed on him for a moment, your brow quirking as you tilted your head slightly in return, a silent question hanging between the two of you. His smirk deepened just enough for you to catch the meaning, amusement, maybe even intrigue, but he quickly smoothed his expression before anyone else noticed. He was hot too, you thought.

Gi-hun, still shaking his head, muttered, “Out of everything you could be thinking about.”

“Well, excuse me for lightening the mood,” you shot back playfully, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like I said I wanted to marry him or something. Geez.”

As the group moved on, you couldn’t help but replay the moment in your head. Maybe you were overthinking it, but wasn’t Young-il’s smirk a little too knowing? Or maybe it was just your ridiculous crush on him twisting your perception. You’d never admit it out loud, but you found yourself drawn to his quiet confidence, the calm authority he exuded even in casual moments like this.

It was ironic, really, here you were crushing on Young-il while joking about the Front Man. Little did you know, the very man you were teasing about might as well have been sitting right in front of you, wearing the mask in plain sight.

You shook the thought off with a small laugh. Overthinking, as usual. Still, when Young-il glanced your way again, his gaze warm and unreadable, you couldn’t stop your stomach from fluttering.

The night had settled into a familiar stillness, broken only by the occasional shuffle of someone shifting in their sleep. You couldn’t sleep, your earlier exchange with Young-il replaying in your mind. That smirk, so brief, had lodged itself in your thoughts.

You were still awake when he appeared, his footsteps quiet as he approached where you lay, tucked into a dim corner of the quarters. He didn’t say anything at first, just crouched down beside you, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked softly.

“Guess not,” you replied.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Still thinking about the Front Man being hot?”

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” you said laughing and flustered.

“You didn’t,” he assured you. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you might have a type.”

Your cheeks warmed under his words, and you rolled your eyes, trying to deflect. “Oh, come on. I was joking.”

“Were you?” he teased, his smile widening just a bit.

You were about to retort, but something in his expression stopped you. His hand, warm and steady, brushed against your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “if you wanted to get something off your chest, now’s the time.”

Your breath hitched. “What are you trying to say, Young-il?”

“Just that I’m here,” he replied, “If there’s something you want.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and before you could second guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss started slow, testing the waters, but quickly deepened as his hand came up to cradle your face.

The thought of the games seemed to fall away as you lost yourself in the way his lips moved against yours. His hands were firm but gentle, holding your face as the kiss turned hungrier, more insistent. His fingers found their way into your hair, tugging slightly, drawing a low moan from him that you quickly stifled.

“Quiet,” he murmured against your lips, a teasing smirk playing on his face as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “We wouldn’t want to wake anyone, would we?”

Your heart raced as his lips moved to your neck, his hands on your waist as he guided you back against the small bed. He trailed kisses down your chest, his kisses slow and savoring every moment.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his kisses grew bolder, trailing lower. He pulled off your bottoms and your lace panties, tongue licking from your hole to your clit. The way he did it so suddenly, so smoothly, made your pussy throb. You instinctively bit down on your lip, your hands fisting the fabric beneath you as you fought to keep your composure.

“Relax,” he whispered. “Let me taste you.”

His hands slid down your thighs, spreading them open as he adjusted your position. He glanced up at you, his dark eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of mischief and tenderness. You pressed your lips together tightly, his skilled tongue flicking your clit then moving to your leaking hole.

“Don’t hold back too much,” he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I want to hear those pretty moans, just a little.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, his tone leaving you breathless. You felt the warmth of his fingertips on your thighs and the tenderness of his kisses on your pussy, and his praises were a quiet balm to the storm of emotions swirling inside you because of the game.

“You taste so fucking good,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he continued ravishing your pussy, mouth engulfing you and sucking as though the meal from earlier wasn’t enough. He was attentive to your pleasure, fingers pumping steadily inside your pussy as sucked and flicked your clit with precision. The precision you expected and appreciated in an older man. No one had ever made you feel this good. The pleasure was otherworldly and your legs shook from it all.

The coil in your abdomen and euphoria built with every passing second and you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep quiet. His words and actions blurred together, creating a warmth that left you trembling. When his tongue brought you to your peak, you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry, your entire body shuddering as he pressed a soft kiss to your clit.

“You did amazing,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned closer.

You gently nudged Young-il to lie back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “My turn,” you murmured, your fingers grazing the waistband of his bottoms.

He raised an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping him, but there was no mistaking the lust in his gaze. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted softly.

Slowly, you slid his bottoms down, taking in the sight of his, long, thick cock with a mixture of nervousness and determination. He was big, but you could take him. His sharp inhale was audible as your lips wrapped around the head, his hand instinctively brushing against your cheek as you went down.

“You’re too good to me,” he whispered, his voice low and tinged with awe.

Your fingers wrapped around his girth, careful and deliberate, and you began to stroke as you sucked with a rhythm that earned a quiet moan from him. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused, letting his quiet praises guide you.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his fingers threading in your curls. “You’re doing so well.”

You glanced up at him, mouth full, eyes watering and saliva mixed with pre cum dripping down your chin. Your cheeks warmed from his words and the darkness of his gaze. The way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful little thing in the world as you took him down your throat made your heart race. You bobbed your head faster, using as much tongue as you could on his thick shaft, your actions conveying what words couldn’t.

The effect was immediate. His head fell back against the pillow, a low moan escaping him as his free hand gripped the fabric beneath him.

“God, you’re incredible,” he said, his voice rough. “That pretty face of yours, how will I last?”

You couldn’t help but smile with his cock buried in your throat, your movements continued, now slower and purposeful as you went up and down. His breathing grew heavier, and his hand in your hair tightened slightly as he struggled to maintain composure.

“You’re too good,” he managed, his voice breaking slightly. “I—”

Before he could finish, the coil in him snapped, and his praises were replaced with a low, drawn out moan of relief. You swallowed the ropes of hot cum, watching as he tried to catch his breath, his gaze locking with yours almost immediately.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his tone full of affection and disbelief. He reached out to cup your face, pulling you closer until his lips pressed against yours, savoring the taste of himself on your lips.

Your confidence emboldened by the way he looked at you with dazed, lust filled eyes. His hands still rested on your waist, fingers brushing your skin as you leaned into him, your voice soft but teasing.

“Can I ride you?” you asked, pussy aching for him.

His lips curved into a smile, his thumbs drawing slow circles on your hips. “Anything you want, princess,” he murmured.

You bit your lip as you shifted, settling over his hard cock with a nervous laugh that he silenced by cupping your cheek. “Take your time,” he said.

When you finally sank down onto his length, his hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you with a steady rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. The quiet moan he let out made you even wetter, and you instinctively leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest for balance.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with admiration. “You ride me so well, just like that.”

His praises made you bolder, and you bounced on his cock with more confidence, your breathing shallow as he let his hands roam, one sliding up to gently cup your tits. The warmth of his touch made you bite back a moan and his eyes darkened as he noticed.

“You’ve got to be quiet pretty girl,” he whispered, his hands still steadying you. “Think you can do that?”

You nodded quickly, though the feeling building inside you made it harder with every moment. His grip on your hips tightened, and he thrusted up into you, the two of you finding a rhythm that made it impossible to focus on anything but how he stretched your pussy. He was so big, your pussy was sure to remember the shape of his cock after you were done.

“I want to cum with you,” you admitted breathlessly, leaning down so your lips were close to his ear. “Inside me.”

Young-il’s breath hitched, his eyes meeting yours with pure lust. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Beg for it,” he whispered.

Your cheeks burned, but the desire in his gaze made you bold. “Please,” you murmured, leaning closer. “I want you to cum with me. Please.”

He groaned softly, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice unsteady. “Just hold on to me.”

The pleasure between you reached its peak as his praises and your whispered pleas filled the air. When the release finally came, it was almost overwhelming, and you buried your face against his neck to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. His hands held you firmly in place as he came with you, cum spurting inside you while you soaked his cock, his breaths ragged but filled with relief.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured after a long pause, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. His gaze softened as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing as you settled against him. “So are you,” you whispered back, letting the moment linger in the quiet comfort of his embrace.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

That’s Not What Friends Do (part 1)

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut, cheating

Request: Lando and the Reader have been best friends since they were babies. Lando has been in love with the Reader since he was a teenager, which is why he has never had a serious relationship. He has flings with girls, but nothing serious. On the other hand, the Reader has been in love with Lando for the past one to two years but thinks he doesn't like her that way, which is why she doesn't propose. Lando is very protective of the Reader, and the Reader is equally protective of Lando.... She knows he sleeps around and is protective of him in a way that she advises him to be smart about who he sleeps with and to stay out of the headlines for anything other than racing. The story starts after the Brazil race, where Lando had a tough time and went without sleep for 24-48 hours. When he returns from São Paulo, he finds the Reader already there, ready to comfort him after a bad race. - I changed it up a bit adding Charles into the story, but I hope you still like it!

"Oh, yes, yes, yes-ah.." The girl moans breathlessly into the pillow as Lando animalistically continues pounding her from behind.

"Just like that, Lando, give it to me" She continues talking even though Lando hates hearing it.

He hates the way his name sounds coming from her lips. He also hates that he's giving her what she wants. And most of all, he hates the fact that once again he's fucking someone else, imagining it washer.

Once he closes his eyes and thinks of your innocent face, it sends him over the edge, he twitches pulling out his cock and cumming inside the condom. "Fuck.." He moans throwing his head back as his thighs shake.

"You didn't have to pull out, you know? You have a condom on anyway" The girl smirks turning to look at him and trying to pull him down to her.

Lando doesn't say anything, he raises his eyebrow at her, barely keeping himself from rolling his eyes at her stupid comment.

He's been with so many girls he can't even count them, but even when he's drunk out of his mind, protection is a must have. He's not fucking around when it comes to that, not when he doesn't even know half of those girls' names. Nor is he interested in their names. All he cares about is emptying himself, giving himself a short-term pleasure and maybe just maybe running into someone who is at least slightly similar to her.

"You're not gonna stay?" The girl asks when he gets up from the bed and starts pulling his pants up.

"No, sorry, I gotta go" With curt, almost no explanations, he always leaves minutes after he finishes. Not that he's proud of it, but to be honest, he doesn't care either.

On the other hand, y/n doesn't spend her free nights the way Lando does. She doesn't fuck around with guys to keep her mind off Lando because she knows that's impossible in a way.

Although she spends some of her evenings wishing she had never seen that article a year and a half ago. It was a perfectly normal Monday night, the day after the race, when after a long flight she finally lay down on her couch, snuggled under the blanket and started scrolling through her phone. At one point, her best friend Ruby sent her an article titled "Friends"? and a picture of y/n and Lando that y/n hasn't stopped thinking about ever since.

The picture captured the moment when, after the race, Lando had both arms tightly wrapped around y/n and was kissing her temple with his eyes closed.

At first it seemed like an ordinary picture, I mean it wasn't the first time they shared a close moment like that before. After all they're friends? Friends do that, right? But the longer y/n stared at it, the more it awakened something in her that hadn't been there before.

When she found herself thinking about Lando and herself at night to fall asleep, she realized she was in trouble because she knew she was in love with her best friend. But since she also knew that the night she was staring at their picture, he was fucking some girl because he himself had told her he was meeting her that night, y/n knew she had to suppress her feelings.

That's where y/n had a little help named Charles.

"Where were you?"

Y/n startles almost screaming when she walks into her apartment and turns on the light revealing Lando on her couch.

"Oh my God, Lando!!" She said, barely able to catch her breath as she held her hand over her heart thinking it would jump out at any second. "You scared the shit out of me! How did you get in here?"

"You gave me the key?"

"I did, but to use it in case of emergency only!"

"You not answering my calls is an emergency" He says and you roll your eyes at him as you take off your shoes. "So?"

"So?" You mimic him.

"Where were you?"

"I was" You sigh. "On a date."

"You were on a date?" He asked a little panicked, following you like a puppy into the kitchen where you had gone.

"Mhm" You mumble, avoiding his gaze. "Ready to conquer Brazil?" You ask trying to change the subject.

"Who were you on a date with?" He asks not dropping it.

"Can we please not talk about it?" You sigh. You really had no intention of telling him anytime soon that you were seeing Charles. You knew Lando was never much of a fan of Charles. Although the reason for that was never clear to you, Lando had actually seen the way Charles secretly looked at you on a couple of occasions, and he confirmed his suspicions when Carlos told him that Charles had said he wanted to get to know you better.

"Why not? Since when am I not allowed to know who you're seeing?"

"Oh please, as if you tell me about every girl you see"

"Well..that's n-not the same"

"Oh really? And by the way, the other day Instagram was full of you and some blonde at a club again. I could see how drunk you were through the picture, you know?" You've scolded him for the umpteenth time already. "You really should be more careful who you associate yourself with, it's getting out of hand"

Lando remained silent because he knew you were right and he hated that he knew you were always right.

"Lando, you know I'm only saying that because I don't want them to talk badly about you and play with your head..."

No one really knew Lando the way you did. After all, you've known each other since childhood, inseparable since you were little. Your relationship has always been one of a kind, both of you very protective of each other. For Lando, it was like he wasn't afraid to hurt anyone but you. You were something that cannot be touched.

"I know, but I don't want to talk about that either." He says. "Are you coming with me to Brazil?"

"No, I'm sorry, Lan. I have a project to finish. I have so much to do and so little time."

"So you have time to date but you don't have time to be there when I need you?"

"H-how can you even say that?" You were offended because that was far from the truth. If anyone was always there for Lando, it was you. You just didn't know he was saying this only out of jealousy and because he had a hard time accepting that you had someone in your life besides him.

"Let me guess, he'll be your moral support while you work on your project?"

Oh, if he only knew that the "moral support" he was talking about would be much closer to him than to you that weekend, he would surely lose his mind.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel struggles to fight temptation with Sarah’s bestfriend after he’s forced to share a bed with her.]

Smut dry humping 18+

He knew it was best to sleep in his jeans, at least the heavy material would do better at hiding a boner he knew he would get.

Winter vacation with the Millers was something you had been looking forward to for the past month. Sarah and you were on break from college and had been best friends since high school. The two of you always planned vacations together and this time her dad and uncle were apart of the plans. A road-trip to Colorado to stay at a cabin and go skiing, you were so excited. The ride was about twelve hours long but you loved road-trips so you were perfectly fine with the time it would take to get there.

“Everybody packed?” Joel came out putting the last few bags on the back of his truck as Sarah came out in a panic.

“Shoot! I forgot to leave my work keys at the job”

“Doesn’t someone else have em?” Joel asked confused.

“Sidney is off and I was suppose to leave them for Matt, they’ll kill me. I’m so stupid”

“Alright relax-“ Tommy came in to the recuse as he usually did.

“I gotta drive by your job anyways and pick up a couple things, we’ll stop by your job and then continue heading to Colorado”

Sarah jumped up and down in relief.

“Oh uncle Tommy, you’re a savior”

“So I’ve been told” he shrugged with a chuckle.

“So what are we doin’?” Joel asked as you stood silently waiting for a plan.

“Sarah and I will go do what we gotta do and you and her can get a head start so we don’t miss our check in at the cabin”

“You want me to go with your dad?” You attempted to whisper to Sarah as he looked over at you.

“Yeah cause remember we booked the cabin under our names so me or you need to at least be there for check in” Sarah explained. Joel tried to hide his look of disapproval. Of course it wasn’t that he didn’t want to be around you, it was more so that he knew he shouldn’t be, especially alone.

“Alright well let’s get goin’” Tommy jumped in his truck as Sarah followed while you got in the car with Joel.

The drive was slightly awkward at first, being that Joel wasn’t much of a talker. His body felt tense as he drove, sneaking a glance at you as you looked out the window. You wore a jean skirt with a plain pink top, but all he could focus on was your legs.

“Mind if I put on the radio?”

He quickly looked away the second you spoke.

“Go ahead” he couldn’t help but notice your hand with red nails reach forward. God he hoped Tommy and Sarah wouldn’t take long doing what they had to do because Joel didn’t know long he could handle being alone with you.

“So are you excited?” You asked trying to make conversation.

“Course I am, been a while since I’ve gone skiing but I’m sure I still got it in me”

“Well maybe you can teach me” you spoke innocently, yet your words lingered in the air sending a shock of pleasure down his groin. He shifted in his seat as you sighed and changed the radio station not having any clue just how aroused you were making him simply by being in his presence.

Joel tried anything to get his mind off you, singing a song in his head, thinking about the last movie he saw, hell, anything to distract his mind from wandering off, especially with you right beside him. As the hours went by it helped that you had fallen asleep. Your hands folded on your lap as you leaned toward the door, Joel couldn’t help but take a slow look at you now that he could without being caught. He’d known you for a few years now but he didn’t know what the hell changed on you once you graduated high school. A simple look couldn’t hurt he convinced himself..

Not too long after, you woke up to Joel on the phone, whatever it was, you could tell he wasn’t happy about it.

“You’re kiddin’ me right?” Joel uttered low.

“Why the hell didn’t you say somethin’ earlier?” You crossed your arms sitting up wondering what was going on as he pulled over to the side of the road.

“The hell am I suppose to do now?” He continued, a few more words were said before he slammed his phone shut.

“What happened?” You spoke in a soft voice.

“Tommy’s truck broke down”

“What? We still have hours to go, where are they?”

“They’re three hours away”

“What?” You whispered confused.

It was ten at night and you had no idea where you were or what you were supposed to do.

“So now what?”

“We get a motel for the night, they’ll meet us in the mornin’-“

“A motel?“

Joel cleared his throat looking away, obvious discomfort on his face as he tried to hide how he felt about staying at a motel with you.

“Yeah, Sarah already called the cabin. We’ll make it there tomorrow” he continued to drive as you looked at the road confused.

Luckily Joel had found a motel up the road.

As soon as he entered the lobby he was clear in asking for two separate rooms or at least a room with two beds. Of course with his luck there was only one room available with one bed.

“Jesus christ” he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. With there not being another motel for another ten miles down Joel gave in and took the key.

Unlocking the door you could see how annoyed he felt, you figured it was because of delay in the trip. Pressing his lips together he looked up at you and motioned for you to walk in before him. The first sight of the bed sitting in the middle of the room you sighed as Joel stood behind you and shut the door.

“You can take the bed” he uttered low throwing his bag to the side.

“And where are you going to sleep?”

He pointed at a wooden chair in the corner of the room making you scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous , Mr.Miller. You need proper rest, you’ve been driving for a few hours and-“

“I’ll do just fine on that chair” he insisted “and how many times do I have to tell you to just call me Joel”.

“Well, Joel, the bed is big enough for both of us, why make things harder for yourself?” you raised a brow as you took your bag and walked to the bathroom. Joel never thought he would ever find himself in a situation like this, his mind racing with things he found harder to ignore.

After changing into your pajamas you walked out of the room yawning making Joel turn to you. Instantly taken back by what you wore, an oversized t shirt that dropped down above your knees.

“The hell are you wearin’?”

“My pajamas?” You looked at him confused, his hands on his hips as he looked flustered.

“Ain’t there somethin’ else you could wear?”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” You tilted your head as he bit down on his bottom lip. There was no way Joel was going to be locked in a room with you just wearing an oversized shirt. You didn’t see anything wrong with it especially with how long it was.

“I’m gonna go get somethin’ from the truck” he uttered under his breath as he turned towards the door. Yeah, that’s what he figured he would do. Sleep in the car.

“Wait-“ you took a step forward.

“What?”

“Where are you going?”

“To my truck, I’ll sleep in the car and-“

“No!” You took another step forward.

“You can’t leave me alone in this motel…I-“

“Why not?” He furrowed his brows.

“It’s creepy and…I don’t know…I’m kinda scared to stay alone up here”

“You’re scared?” You could hear the irritation in his tone, God you were making it harder for the man to keep himself away from you.

“Yes, can you please stay”

Joel sighed looking away knowing he had no choice. He knew he couldn’t just leave you alone like that.

“Thank you” you whispered and headed to the bed.

“So what side do you prefer to sleep on?”

Joel looked up at you, clearly over the whole ordeal.

“I ain’t sleepin’ on the bed”

“You’re still going on with that? Look how big this bed is!” You took it upon yourself to choose a side and lay back.

“You know something Mr.Miller-Joel” you corrected yourself as you sat up.

“Sometimes I think you just don’t like me and I don’t know what I’ve done but whatever it is, I apologize”

Joel stood still, Jesus Christ, now he had you thinking he didn’t like you, which obviously was so very far from the truth. He cleared his throat, not exactly sure how to defend himself without being obvious how badly he actually wanted you.

“That ain’t it, sweetheart” his words were spoken softly, probably the softest he’s ever spoken to you. There was an awkward silence after that before you sighed and got under the covers.

“Well, if that’s not it, then I insist you lay on a bed to sleep. I won’t bother you I promise” he watched as you turned over and proceeded to close your eyes.

Giving in, he walked towards the bed. Still debating in his mind what he should and shouldn’t do. He knew it was best to sleep in his jeans, at least the heavy material would do better at hiding a boner he knew he would get.

“You didn’t pack pajamas?” You suddenly turned catching him off guard.

“Yeah uh-“

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna sleep with jeans on, that’s so uncomfortable” you turned back the way you were as Joel took a deep breath. Without saying a word he proceeded to change his clothes in the bathroom.

Sweats and a navy blue t shirt Joel awkwardly sat on the bed. It seemed as if you had already fallen asleep, if so, it definitely would be better for him. Laying on his back he looked at the ceiling, his knee up as he carefully tried not to move much with you beside him.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad he thought, just a few hours, make it through the night and everything would be fine, right? He couldn’t help but look over, the blanket covering your legs until you moved shifting its place on you. Now a hint of the back of your bear thighs exposed to him, he didn’t even realize he began to breathe hard. His eyes darting back and forth between the ceiling and your legs until he found it in him to reach over and attempt to cover you. Of course, just as he did you unexpectedly turned over toward him, his hand now trapped beneath the side of your thigh as you faced him.

“Shit” he whispered, his breathing becoming harder to control, a feeling of anticipation he couldn’t hide. His hand feeling your bare skin on him, he could feel the pressure in his chest when you abruptly turned away again.

God you were moving a lot, each movement taking him by surprise but now here you were with your ass poked out just inches away from his crotch area. Looking down, his hand ached to grab your waist and press himself against you. The scent of your vanilla spray filling the air, only weakening his fight. A soft sleepy moan escaping your lips making him look up, the sound you made only making his cock begin to the throb as it hardened in his pants when your phone began to buzz.

Joel quickly turned onto his back lifting the covers over him as you responded in a lazy like voice.

“Mhm. Sure…yeah…I’ll tell him” you sighed before clicking the phone off and turning to Joel.

“Sarah said-“ you stopped in your tracks noticing how fast paced his breathing was.

“Are you ok?” His knee blocking his erection as he refused to look at you.

“Joel?” You whispered.

“I’m fine” he responded in a much more aggressive tone than he meant to.

“Are…are you sure?”

He looked to you with a clenched jaw but he didn’t say a word. His mind going hazy the second he laid eyes on you, he knew he was no longer thinking straight. Joel felt like an animal was taking over him when he abruptly turned towards you and kissed you. You squealed in shock as his hand caressed the crook of your neck, he placed himself over you just before he pulled his lips away. You panted looking up at him in disbelief, how he managed to get himself between your legs so quickly you couldn’t say.

“Joel..” you whispered.

“You scared me” your words instantly setting a realization within him, regret was clear in his eyes.

“I’m sorry-“ but just before he attempted to remove himself, you gently placed your hand on his face. He closed his eyes savoring your touch, your legs adjusting around his waist allowing you to feel his fully erect member against you.

“So this is what it’s all been about…” you whispered somewhat amused as he looked away with shame.

“This ain’t right” you felt him about to move away and tightened your legs around him.

“Wait” you whispered.

“We don’t…we don’t have to do anything but you can just…just stay here” you felt yourself become aroused, the head of his cock against your pussy lips. Through his sweats you could feel the shape of him against you, your black lace underwear soaking up from your excitement. As good as it felt between your legs, Joel took a deep breath.

“I can’t” he whispered, his lips against your forehead.

“Please..” you grabbed onto his shirt wanting to feel him even closer and that’s when he slowly thrusted his hips against you. Your lips parted against his and he thrusted again and again. Your moan made him freeze in place, he wanted more. Joel lifted his body up and looked down noticing the wet stop you left him on his grey sweats, only tempting him to continue.

“I’m sorry” you whispered slightly embarrassed.

He didn’t say a word, you could see him losing the fight and angled his face back to you.

“It’s not like we’re having sex..” you whispered.

“We’re not doing anything wrong” you continued, your thumb brushing over his lips.

He needed to feel more.

With one hand leaning beside your head, he pushed himself up and pushed down his sweats along with his underwear, revealing his aching member.

“What are you doing?”

“I won’t put it in, I just-“ he proceeded to take his cock and brush it up and down between your lips, you lay silently feeling aroused like you had never felt before. Your silk underwear slowly moving aside the more he teased you, his eyes on yours as he focused on the hold he had on you.

“Just don’t-“

“I won’t” he whispered hoarsely. The feel of his cock coming into contact with your pussy, you slowly reached between you both and pulled your underwear aside giving him complete access to feel you.

“Oh, baby…I don’t know if I can stop” he panted as your body squirmed beneath him. You both wanted more, the sound of how wet your pussy was only continued to awaken the animal inside him. His eyes focused on yours when he suddenly slipped himself inside you making you gasp. He held himself feeling you throb around him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Joel..” you whispered, his eyes dazed.

“I’m sorry..” he whispered.

“Don’t be…. Again…please” Joel did just as you asked, sliding himself nearly all the way out before ramming himself in you once more.

“Is that what you want? Tell me” he demanded, both of his hands grabbing your face. You nodded desperately before he began moving his hips in a rhythm against you, again and again and again. The bed squeaking loudly the faster he moved.

“Fuck” you moaned as he aggressively pulled his shirt over his head with one hand before sliding his other hand under your ass and lifting you up closer against him. Joel didn’t give a shit if what he was doing in that moment wasn’t wrong and neither did you. You felt better than he could imagine, your tight wet cunt wrapped around him, he moaned deeply. You didn’t want him to stop, you didn’t want it to end when someone suddenly knocked on the door. You and Joel froze out of breath as someone knocked again.

“Housekeeping!”

“No!” Joel blurt out roughly.

“No thank you” he breathed in relief that it was no one else before continuing what he was doing. Next thing you knew, Joel flipped you on top of him, his hands pushing up beneath your shirt grabbing your breasts as you bounced him. Joel could feel your cum dripping down his ballsack.

“Just like that, baby” he panted looking down at his cock.

“Fuck, Joel I’m gonna-“

“You’re gonna cum? Look at me, fucking look at me when you cum” he grabbed a handful of your hair and bought your face down close to his as he pushed his pelvis upwards as fast as he could. You couldn’t take the pleasure he was making you feel, your screams echoing around the room as you came repeatedly.

“Atta girl” he slowed down and flipped you back on your back, your body limp from your orgasm he got on his knees and quickly pulled out. Jerking himself off, his cum shot out of him onto your stomach as he leaned over you.

“Oh shit” he spoke breathlessly looking down at when slowly the intense high came crashing down. He had just fucked his daughter’s Bestfriend.

Joel pushed himself off the bed, slowly stumbling towards the bathroom as your body still tried to recover. He didn’t say a word slamming the bathroom door shut as you slowly pushed yourself up.

“Are you okay?” You called out to him cleaning yourself up, your legs slightly trembling. He didn’t respond.

A few minutes later Joel came rushing out fully dressed and began packing his bag.

“What are you doing?” You asked confused.

“Get dressed, we ain’t stayin’ here”

“Joel, where the hell are we gonna go?”

“Get dressed” he narrowed his eyes on you with a tone you didn’t like.

“Where are we going? Sarah is three hours away and the cabin is still hours away-“

“I ain’t stayin’ here” he walked past you picking up his sweats and throwing it in the bag.

“I don’t understand-“ he abruptly stopped before you and grabbed your face making you gasp.

“I just fucked you in a damn motel. If I don’t leave from here, I will fuck you again and again” his eyes drifted to your lips as you looked at him speechless.

“You’re my daughter’s best friend, I can’t do this” he whispered as he got lost in his temptation and kissed you passionately. He carried you up against the wall brushing his hand up your thigh pushing your shirt above your hips before he moved his lips away. Leaning his forehead on yours he slowly put you back on your feet.

“Get dressed” his tone was cold as he turned away from you.

“You know what-“ you walked towards your bag and pulled out your pants.

“As soon as Sarah and Tommy meet us we can switch, I’ll ride the rest of the way with Tommy” Joel instantly looked up from his bag. Clearly what you said didn’t exactly sit right with him. The thought of you traveling alone with Tommy knowing how his brother was something he was not going to allow. Especially after what had just happened with you.

“So you wanna ride with Tommy now?” He made his way around the bed walking towards you as you pulled up your pants without looking at him.

“Mhm” you responded with clear annoyance.

“You gonna wear your little panties for Tommy too?” Your eyes widened.

“Oh screw you, I didn’t make a move on you”

Joel stood silent, he knew you were right yet his jealousy somehow overpowering his emotions. He felt defeated.

“You���re not ridin’ with Tommy and that’s final” he turned away.

“And what makes you think I have to listen to you?” You quickly followed him until he suddenly turned back to you catching you off guard. He was silent, his jaw tense as you looked up at him slightly intimidated. You could’ve sworn he was going to say something….anything until your phone rang.

Sarah and Tommy got a ride and were now much much closer than you both originally expected them to be and that’s when it hit you, that you were now stuck on a four day trip with your Bestfriend and her dad that you had just slept with..

@moonpascal @katmoonz @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @guelyury @mynameistokyo @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @manuymesut @katiemarieeee @unknownomgg @secretcheesecakenacho @missladym1981 @xmaykeca @dendulinka6 @wintersquirrel @malfoycassimalfoy @scorpio-echo @orcasoul @mysteryhexgirl @locaparapedrito @alloftheimagines @mystickittytaco @justajoelsreader @ashleyfilm

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Jealous triple s, and how they deal with it, would they be insecure? Would they be unbothered?

take your time!

Jealous Sonic, Shadow, and Silver x Reader

Sonic:

Sonic’s confidence is one of his most defining traits, but when he gets jealous, that cool, carefree demeanor takes a serious hit. He’s usually so sure of himself, it’s part of his charm. But when someone else starts vying for your attention? That’s when cracks begin to show.

It starts small. You’re chatting with someone else, and Sonic catches sight of your laugh, the way your eyes light up. He doesn’t like how that person leans in a little too close or how their hand lingers just a moment too long. Sonic doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s... uncomfortable.

"Hey, Y/N!" Sonic’s voice cuts through the conversation, loud and bright. He zips up to your side, arm slinging around your shoulder in an overly casual gesture. "Whatcha talkin’ about? Anything cool, or is it just boring stuff?"

He flashes his signature grin, it sidnt reach his eyes tho as he just stared at them. The other person gets the hint, offering a polite excuse to leave, and Sonic is immediately all over you.

"Phew! Thought I’d have to rescue you from that snoozefest." He laughs, but his eyes linger on your face, searching. "You’re not, like, too close with them, are you?"

If you call him out on his jealousy, he’ll deny it, waving it off with a sheepish chuckle. "Jealous? Me? Nah, I’m way too cool for that." Before speeding away to not have to deal with his problems.

Despite his bravado, Sonic can’t help but feel a little insecure. What if he’s not enough? He’s fast, adventurous, and fun, but is that all you see him as? These thoughts are fleeting, though, because Sonic doesn’t like to dwell on negativity. He’s quick to bounce back, reminding himself that no one can match his charm.

When his jealousy peaks, he doubles down on his efforts to impress you. He’ll drag you on adventures, race you to the nearest horizon, and show off every trick in his arsenal. Sonic wants to be the one who keeps you smiling, even if it means pushing himself a little harder to outshine everyone else.

Shadow:

Shadow’s jealousy is a bit more on the intense side. He’s not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, far from it, but he lets himself relax more around you, he valies you for that.

He notices everything, the way someone’s eyes linger on you, the subtle changes in their tone, and how easily they make you laugh. Shadow doesn’t say anything at first, but his silence speaks volumes. His eyes narrow, his body language stiffens, and the air around him grows thick with tension.

"Do you enjoy their company?" he asks you one evening, his tone calm but icy. It’s not an accusation, but the question seemed like a trap.

If you assure him that you’re just being polite or that it’s nothing serious, Shadow nods, but the thought lingers in his mind. He doesn’t understand why it bothers him so much, why the thought of others spending more time with you makes him ache.

Shadow isn’t one to act out of insecurity, but jealousy brings out a possessive streak he can’t quite control. He’s not above making his presence known, standing just a little too close to you when someone else is around or fixing them with a withering glare that sends them running.

"0You don’t need them," he tells you firmly, his voice low. "You have me."

Shadow’s jealousy stems from his fear of losing the one person who makes him feel "human",(mobian? Idfk anymore man :(.) grounded. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he worries that someone else might give you something he can’t. After all, he’s not the most expressive or affectionate person, and sometimes he wonders if that’s enough for you.

If you reassure him, Shadow relaxes, his usually stone cold exterior softening. "I don’t want to lose you," he admits quietly, almost ashamed of his own weakness.

While Shadow tries to keep his jealousy in check, it occasionally slips out in subtle ways.

Silver:

Silver is naturally anxious, and jealousy only amplifies that side of him. He’s not used to navigating these kinds of emotions, so when he sees someone else getting a little too friendly with you, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

At first, Silver tries to ignore it, convincing himself that he’s overreacting. "They’re just being nice," he tells himself, but the knot in his stomach says otherwise. He starts overthinking everything, what if they’re better for you? What if you realize he’s not enough?

You notice how quiet he gets, his usual bright demeanor overshadowed by uncertainty. When you ask him what’s wrong, he hesitates before blurting out, "Do you like them more than me?"

Silver immediately regrets his words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to-! I just... I don’t want to lose you."

His honesty is endearing, even if his jealousy is a little misplaced. Silver doesn’t want to control you or keep you from talking to others, but he can’t help feeling like he has to prove himself.

If his jealousy gets the better of him, Silver might become a bit clingy, always wanting to be by your side. "Can I stay with you for a bit?" he asks, his voice soft and hopeful.

Silver’s jealousy isn’t rooted in possessiveness but in his fear of not being good enough. He looks up to you, admires you, and sometimes he wonders what you see in him. But your reassurance means the world to him.

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," Silver says one day. "I just want to make sure I’m the best for you, too."

[letsbangts]

answer your phone || jjk

⤷ summary: when the consequences of his actions come calling

⟡ sequel to mutt ⟡

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 12.8k+ (I couldn’t stop 😳)

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends with benefits au

⟶ content: fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk, jk is on a downward spiral (it's what he deserves), oc is struggling as well, taehyung is the shoulder to lean on everyone deserves

⟶ warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, groping, protected sex, nipple play, oral (m. & f. receiving), markings (hickeys & other bruising), a bit of dirty talk & praising, fingering, teasing, multiple orgasms…I think that’s it?

↬ a/n: HERE IT IS MUTT PT 2! firstly I want to say thank you for all the love & support i received on pt 1 it truly meant so much to me ♡ OKAY so you all wanted #justiceforoc and to see jk grovel so the tables have definitely turned on him ;). angel xoxo

↬ a/n2: p.s the flashbacks are indicated by the arrows (《,》)

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ answer your phone leon thomas 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

masterlist

Answer your phone I've got to talk to you

Jungkook is sitting on his couch with a girl's lips all over his neck and her hands all over his body, but his eyes are fixed on his cell phone lying on the coffee table. Instead of focusing on how her tongue is licking at his throat or how her hands grope him through his pants, he can only focus on you.

He stares at the phone that won't ring, at least not with you on the other end. It has been over a month since you stormed out of his place. At first, he left you alone and didn't try to reach out because he thought you needed to cool off. Jungkook has dealt with this hot and cold shit with others before; he knows they’ll be back eventually, whether he makes any effort or not. And it’s so much easier not to. But he has been calling you for weeks now with no success.

This past month, Jungkook has been with a handful of women, hoping to feel something, but he hasn't. Not even with the aid of an empty bottle or a joint— and he's certainly had plenty of both— nothing makes him feel as good as you do. Whether it's getting his dick sucked by any of the random women he’s taken into the bathroom of a club or bending one over in the backseat of his car in the parking lot of the tattoo studio, getting on top of someone else to distract him from you hasn’t helped as he thought it would.

Even though the girl with him right now is attractive, with a nice body and a skilful set of hands, he is trapped in his thoughts. He’s annoyed that her lips don't send tingles down his body like yours do, that her hands aren't as soft as your own and that she doesn't have her fingers running through his hair the way you do.

He misses you.

He pries the girl's hands off him and pushes her back as he lets out a deep sigh. She looks at him with a confused expression.

Jungkook licks his lips and, without looking at her, says, "I think we better stop; you should go."

The girl attempts a seductive smile as she moves to unbuckle his belt.

"Stop? We haven't even started anything. Come on, I'll make you feel good, big boy."

Jungkook rips her hands off of his belt, he rubs his hands over his face in frustration.

"Look, I'm just not feeling this, okay?" he says exasperated.

The girl's face drops and her whole demeanour changes.

"Are you fucking serious, Jungkook? Not feeling this? Can you not get it up or something? Is your dick really that pathetic?" she snarks, her eyes scanning him up and down.

He gives her a pointed look with his pierced eyebrow raised as he rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek and chuckles bitterly. He shakes his head, sniffs, and sits up straighter.

"Okay, listen here, Emilia—"

"It's Emily!"

"Whatever the fuck your name is, I don't care. I tried to be nice about this, but if you want to provoke me, that's fine. You're right; I can't get it up because I can't even pretend for a goddamn moment that you turn me on, not even in the slightest, so get your ass out of my fucking house," he sneers through clenched teeth.

Right after Jungkook finished speaking, he felt a sting on his cheek. The response to his words was a sharp slap to his face and, once again, another upset girl storming out of his place, slamming the door behind her.

Jungkook shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. A metallic taste begins to form in his mouth; he must have bitten the inside of his cheek on impact. He rises to his feet and walks to the bathroom. He leans over the sink, gripping the porcelain edge as he spits out blood. Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror and runs a hand over his reddened cheek, marked with a fresh cut from the girl's ring-clad hand.

He isn't bothered that the girl is upset because he doesn't care about her. Jungkook couldn't care less about whether he was an asshole to Emma; all he cares about is you and how he needs to talk to you.

Answer your phone Give me a minute, please Has your heart turned to stone? Have you no sympathy?

He has texted and called you an embarrassing number of times, waiting with every ring to see if you'd pick up so that he could hear your sweet voice. And he does, but only when he's met with your voicemail — "Hey, this is Y/N. Sorry, I missed your call. Please leave me a message, and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!"— which is a lie because you never do. Still, he leaves voice messages, hoping you will listen to them and call him back. He hopes that with every call, his persistence will make you curious enough to answer and talk to him—even if only for a minute.

Jungkook turns on the tap and washes his face; the cool water momentarily clears his head. However, once he raises his head and looks at his reflection again, his fringe drips with water, droplets falling onto his shirt. He is overwhelmed by the thought of you all over again.

He knows you can't be too mad at him because you haven't blocked him—not his number or on social media. This is how he knows you're not that hung up on what happened since he sees you posting, whether casually going out for coffee or all dressed up to go party with your friends; regardless, in all of them, you look stunningly beautiful.

This makes him miss you even more and makes him unsure if blocking him might have been better since Jungkook has seen some guys in your posts and noticed how they sometimes have an arm around you or how you lean in a little bit too close to them for his liking. He wonders if they are just friends; even if they are, he's sure they want to be more. Have they tried anything with you? Are you dressing up like that for one of those guys? Are you trying to move on with one of them? Is that the reason you're ignoring him?

The thought alone of you with someone else drives him crazy, but having to see you with some guy who probably doesn't even know you that well makes him furious. Jungkook knows you better than any one of those chumps could, yet they get to be around you while he is stuck looking at your angelic face beside some happy idiot through a screen like a loser.

Jungkook bets none of those guys know that you hum while getting ready, don't know that when you're in the car while it's raining you turn off the radio to listen to it fall, don't know that you can't sleep wearing pants or socks, don't know that you hate drinking room temperature water, don't know that you do this adorable little happy dance when you really like the food you're eating, and bets they don't know that the guy who put that tattoo on your hip has fucked you every way under the sun.

Shit. He misses you.

Misses how you would thread your fingers through his hair, scratching softly at his scalp while he had his head in your lap as you both watched TV, misses how you would listen to him complain about a client while you fiddled with his earring but with such attentive eyes that showed you were paying attention, misses how you would scrunch your nose and blush when he made a flirty comment, misses how you would somehow take the pressure of the day off him simply by hugging him.

Why won't you answer? Why won't you give him a proper chance to explain himself and apologize? Did all your feelings for him vanish; has your heart just turned to stone? Don't you see how hard he's trying? Don't you have any sympathy for him?

Upon realizing that his teeth are grinding together and his fists are clenched so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, he pulls himself together, relaxing all his muscles, and heads back to the living room with determination.

Jungkook grabs his phone off the coffee table before sitting on his couch. With his elbows resting on his knees, he goes to his call log filled with your name and presses it, lifting the phone to his ear as he listens to the ringing for the umpteenth time.

I know I fucked this up I know I let you down But I've suffered long enough And you're still not around

He bites his nails while tapping his foot anxiously; he concentrates on what seems like endless ringing. His eyes glance at the clock. You should be home from work by this time, he thinks. When your voice finally comes through—voicemail, of course. Jungkook didn't honestly expect anything else.  

He leans back, tips his head back against the backrest, and shuts his eyes for a second, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of his thoughts, and when he hears the beep of the answering machine, all those thoughts spill out of his mouth.

I know I don't deserve it But please have some mercy 'Cause I just might die if you don't

Y/N POV

You hold your buzzing phone in your hand and watch as the screen dims once it's finished, only to light up a few seconds later with a notification about a voicemail.

You hit on the notification and bring your phone to your ear, you bite your lip when you hear the deep voice of the man you've been keeping at bay.

"Hey Y/N, I don't know if you even listen to my messages anymore or if you ever did, but I'm not going to give up. I'm sorry, I know I fucked up and I know I let you down, but—fuck, Y/N, I miss you so goddamn much. It feels like I've been suffering for so long like there is this knife that's buried in my chest and keeps twisting the more time you're not around. I know I don't deserve it, but please have some mercy and answer me. Fucking shout at me and curse me out. Answer me and don't say anything— stay silent if you want, but just answer me, please. I need to hear your voice, or see you, something—anything, because this is beginning to feel like a slow, painful death."

You sigh as you lower the phone from your ear, swallowing the lump in your throat. You've never heard his voice so shaky; you've never experienced Jungkook being anything but confident.

Jungkook has been persistent in reaching out, and you have told yourself you must be just as persistent in your resolve not to answer. This past month has been devoid of any trace of him, but just because he hurt you doesn't mean all your feelings for him have vanished. It's been hard on you; many times your thumb has hovered over the accept button when he called, but by the time you contemplate it, the call has already gone to voicemail.

Regarding that night, you have calmed down significantly since leaving his place feeling angry and upset. You have thought it over countless times, and although you still don't condone what he did, you genuinely believe he didn't act with ill intent. You just expected more from him; he always told you how it was different with you, that you meant more to him than anyone else. Only to then treat you like any other one of his insignificant flings. It made you question if you were so whipped for him that you failed to see he viewed you as a girl easy to fool. But you know Jungkook is more than just that one night; he may have disappointed you, but there have been many times he hasn't.

You have ignored every attempt he made to communicate with you; yet, you haven't blocked him on anything—it feels too final. Instead, you have been keeping yourself occupied. When you're not working, you've been going out with friends, reminding yourself of who you were before Jungkook. Of course, you didn't completely ignore your friends when he came into your life, but he did take up a big part of your free time.

They knew about him as well; while they may not have known all the dirty details of your relationship, they did know that you spent a lot of time with him and enjoyed doing so. And if you were happy, so were they. So when you replied in the group chat that you'd be joining them for a night out, they were shocked but didn't ask any questions. They were excited to have the gang together and didn't hesitate to ensure you had a good time.

Usually, you'd spend your weekends with Jungkook since you both were off then. You would be tangled in his sheets, a sweaty mess put in various positions inducing multiple orgasms. You had forgotten the thrill of being in the middle of a crowded dance floor, sweat rolling down your body from the heat of so many bodies so close together. Throwing back countless shots, you and your friends could barely dance in your heels and tight dresses without stumbling over.

You'd also forgotten how much male attention you receive when going out and mingling with new people. Although there are still many creeps around—for whom you had to get your guy friends to come to your rescue—sometimes there would be someone who seemed harmless enough to flirt with, but then you would remember a certain doe-eyed, dimpled-smiled man and would turn them down.

One time, when you had used your friend Taehyung as an escape from an otherwise seemingly good guy, pulling him behind you and wrapping his arms around your dancing figure for protection, he asked you why you didn't go for it. That was when you opened up and told him the full story about you and Jungkook. Taehyung has been a caring and understanding person for as long as you have known him, and he empathized with you when you explained your feelings and complicated situationship.

Since that night, he has been your confidant, your shoulder to lean on. He has witnessed firsthand how this month has not been easy for you, no matter how much you tried to forget about your fuck buddy/friend. After hearing about the detailed story of the last night you spent with Jungkook, he has been vocal about how you deserve someone who wants to be with only you and that you are more than enough. Yet, he never judges you and understands that you know a different side of Jungkook.

You know the Jungkook who moved all the mugs to the lowest shelf in his cupboard so that you could reach them, the Jungkook who sings loudly in the shower, the Jungkook who when he first falls asleep starts twitching with a cute, peaceful smile on his face.

You miss him.

You've passed the tattoo studio on your way home, stared at that flashing neon-red sign, and thought how all it would take to see him is for you to step through that door; if you just walked in and talked to him, maybe everything could turn around in your favour. You both could patch things up and be happy. You could be together.

You've looked through that window from afar, hoping to catch sight of the pierced, tattoo-covered man, reminiscing about when you were on the other side with him.

✧ ──── 《《 ──── ✧

The bell of his studio dings, signalling your entry. At the counter stands the pierced, tattoo-covered man you came for. He looks up from the book with his scheduled appointments, and when his eyes land on you, he flashes you that big, dimpled smile, the corners of his tired eyes crinkling in delight.

"Hey, baby. I wasn't expecting you. What are you doing here so late?"  

He drops his pen onto the book and rounds the counter, meeting you halfway. His lips press against yours in a quick kiss as his hands settle on your waist while yours find their way around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

"I could ask you the same thing. When you texted that you were still here, I thought I would stop by to see you," you shrug.

Jungkook sighs and gives you a tight-lipped smile, lifting a hand to brush through his hair.

"My last client of the day cancelled on me, so I decided to stay back and work on some designs. I sent the others home, and I guess the time got away from me," he scratches the back of his neck.

"Mmm, handsome and hard-working, what a catch," you smile and tiptoe to give his cheek a peck.

"I don't want to disturb you, though. Should I go?" you continue, rubbing your hands up and down his chest.

Jungkook shakes his head as he removes your hands from his chest.

"No, stay. I could use your presence; it has been a stressful day."

He walks over to the studio's entrance, flips the open sign, locks the door, and pulls down the blinds, now closing for the day. Lastly, he switches off the main lights, leaving only the multiple neon lights on the walls in various designs and colours to keep you from darkness.

He takes one of your hands into his, interlocking your fingers, and leads you through the dimly lit room to behind the counter, and to the desk you've seen him work at many times. He rolls out his chair and sits at his desk, looks up at you, and pats his thigh, and you comply with his silent request. You sit, his muscular thighs between your legs. He puts one arm around you, holding your waist to keep you steady, while his other arm rests on your thigh, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Once in his lap, you look at the glance over the wooden surface covered with scattered papers, all filled with his artwork. Some designs are drawn with intricate detail, while others are simple sketches. But they are all equally impressive—sometimes you forget how talented Jungkook is.

"Oh my gosh, Kook! These are amazing!" you gasp, picking up one of the sheets and turning your head to look at him.

He takes the paper from your hands and places it back on the desk. You see the tips of his ears turning red.

"They're alright," he shrugs; you notice he seems sullen.

You turn in his hold, your body sideways on his lap, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"What has got you so stressed out?" you ask, pushing back his fringe before moving your hand to fiddle with his earring.

Jungkook closes his eyes at the feel of your touch, exhaling a breath in relief. He leans forward, rests his forehead on your shoulder and hugs you tight.

"I just—that client, that was the fifth cancellation this month. I don't understand why; we had several consultations, and I listened to all his requests. I showed him so many different design options that I had sketched for him. I don't know maybe I—maybe I lost my touch or something."

"Hey, now that's not true; this stuff is unbelievable, Kook." you gesture at the multiple illustrations on his desk. "And you have been completely booked up with back-to-back appointments every day, I have never seen you so busy."

You tug on his hair and he whines, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and pulling you closer.

"Plus, do you think I would let a guy who's lost his touch anywhere near my skin with even a drop of ink?" you tease, your lips brushing his ear.

"That was months ago," he mumbles into your neck, and you feel the coolness of his lip rings against your skin.

“Yeah, and I would still let you be the one to do it."

Jungkook looks up at you as he argues, “Not like I’m going to let anyone touch you besides me.”  

You boop his nose with your own, which makes him chuckle.

“I’m serious, Jungkook. You are passionate about your job, and it shows in your artwork. You are such a talented artist, people see your pieces online and come from all different places just to get inked by you. You. Because you are fucking Jeon Jungkook,” you poke at his chest.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles softly as he brings your hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “How do you always know what to say to calm me down?”

Your eyes sparkle at his question, and you smile gently as you hold his cheek, your thumb caressing the soft skin while pressing your forehead to his. “I know you. Everything I said is simply the truth.”  

Jungkook’s mouth parts slightly in surprise, but his gaze softens. You weren’t sure due to the low lighting in the room, but his cheeks seemed to flush as well. 

"Thank you, baby,” he says almost shyly, and you couldn’t believe this was the same man who flirts with you so shamelessly at every chance he gets, nor the same man who has had you screaming in pleasure several times a night.

There are many sides to Jungkook, and you adored all of them.

You wrap your arms around his torso, embracing him tightly, burying your face in his neck, and he hugs your waist just as firmly, kissing your forehead.

You both sit like that for a while, and your breathing becomes in sync as if your bodies had become one.

“I-I'm…I'm glad you came here,” he clears his throat as his arms tighten around your waist, basking in your warmth and comfort.

Jungkook has vented to you about work before, but this time, it feels different. You’ve never seen him like this.

"I'm here anytime you need to talk, Kook," you reassure.

“Well, that's good to know…” He said with a nervous smile. “But I meant…I'm glad you came here that day to get your tattoo, that you came into my life.”

Your body freezes momentarily at his words, but soon a fire ignites in your heart and spreads throughout you. You are filled with pride and relief that he feels comfortable and trusts you enough to share his personal feelings so openly.

"I'm glad I did too," you whisper, "I meant what I said though, I'm here if you ever need to talk."

“Okay,” he whispers, “Okay. But on one condition.”

"What?"

He tilts his head to look down at you, you look up at him through your lashes.

"You have to come and hold me like this when I do."

"Deal," you giggle.

"Seal it with a kiss," he leans down slightly.

You lift your head and meet his lips in an emotional kiss which soon turned more heated as your tongues mingled together.

You move down his body, kneeling between his thighs. Your hands grip his belt, and Jungkook pants lightly, his anticipation and need high. You unbuckle it and unbutton his jeans effortlessly, then quickly pull them down far enough for his bulge to be exposed. As expected, he is already hard for you. The effect you have on him is always intense. You glance up at the heavy-breathing man above you, eyes hooded and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You shift your focus from his bulge to his t-shirt, gripping it by the hem and pulling it up. When he realizes what you want, he assists you; he sits up a little, grabbing the back of the collar and pulling it over his head with one hand, fully exposing his toned core. Just like that, his shirt is off, and he tosses it to the floor to be found later.  

Your hands create goosebumps across his exposed skin as they brush against his lower abdomen when you grab the hem of his boxers and pull them down. His erection springs up and rests against his abdomen, impatient for your touch.

At the sight of his big, veiny dick, you unconsciously drag your tongue along your upper lip. You quickly remove his jeans and boxers, along with your shirt, leaving you in your bra, panties, and skirt.

Your hand wraps around his shaft, and your thumb swipes across his head, smoothing the precum over his length to make it feel better. You stroke him gently a couple of times before leaning down and placing a soft kiss against the tip of his cock. Jungkook hisses at the sensation, and he throws his head back.

You slowly begin to move your hand up and down his cock; you enjoy building him up gradually and prolonging his release. A knowing look flashes across his eyes when he discovers what you are doing. He chuckles, and then you swirl your tongue around his head, causing the smile to fall from his face immediately as his hand grips the sides of the chair.

“D-don’t tease,” he breathes heavily.

Your lips curve up into a barely noticeable smile at his reaction. You lick him from the base of his length to the top, swirling your tongue around his head once more before slowly pushing him between your lips and going down on him, your tongue pressing against his hardness as you take him in.

His abs clench at the contact, and a moan slips past his lips, “Fuck, yeah." 

You glimpse up at him; his eyes are closed tightly, and sweat is forming on his golden skin, the exact way you like seeing him when you suck him off. The fact that you could affect him like that without even doing very much boosts you with confidence.

You start moving back up slowly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft and squeezing him gently, earning a whimper. You repeat your movements with eagerness.

You love giving him head, hearing his moans of pleasure, having him fall apart at your touch.

After a few rougher squeezes from your hand, you suck harder and take as much of him as you can into your mouth, using your hand to pump the rest of him that you can’t fit.

"Feel good?" you ask the obvious question.

He whines and raises his hand to your hair, pushing his fingers through the locks and out of your face. “That feels so good," he rasps.

You hum around his dick; you look up and find him already gazing down at you, his eyes dark with lust—an image you will carry with you to your grave.

You flutter your eyelashes at him and take him even deeper, fully engulfing his dick, his tip hitting the back of your throat each time you bob your head. 

Jungkook gulps and his eyes roll back in his head. You feel his hands tangle in your hair, pulling slightly as his hips thrust up into your mouth on instinct.

You go back to slowly moving your hand up and down his length, and it lasts for a few seconds until his hands are over yours, stopping you. Before you can question him, he takes your head in a tight hold and forces you to move faster, his large hands enveloping your head. He gently pushes down against your head until his entire cock is in your mouth and holds you there, your nose touching his pelvis. Your eyes water, but you power through, breathing deeply through your nose.

The man appears to be in pure bliss. His thighs are shaking, and his eyes are blinking rapidly, trying hard to stay open. His mouth is agape as he releases breathy moans, his chest heaving up and down.

“Your mouth feels so good, baby, fuck,” he growls.

When he is satisfied, he pulls you up off of his cock and removes his hands. You pop back up and let go of his throbbing length, a string of saliva briefly connecting your mouth to his tip. You gasp for air with tears streaming down your face, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Always such a good girl for me, aren't you?” he says, lifting your chin and wiping your wet cheeks.

You nod with a sniff, your eyes still glassy.

Jungkook suddenly reaches forward to grab your hips and pulls you onto his lap. You quickly straddle him, your hands pressing against his chest as you grind softly against his dick. His lips crash into yours in a messy kiss; it lasts for a little while before he pulls away and looks straight at you, “You know I love having your mouth around me, baby, but I need to be inside you." 

Then he’s capturing your lips once more, his arms encircling your legs around his waist as he does so. His hands rest under your thighs, effortlessly supporting your weight. You’re so immersed in how seamlessly his lips meld with yours that you don’t notice you both have shifted from the chair until you feel him place you on the desk.

Jungkook glides his hands up your thighs, only to have them wound around your waist, pulling you against him with force. He stands between your legs, with your pussy pressed directly against his member.

You grind your soaked panties against him, causing his lips to detach from yours, letting a groan escape from his lips as he tilts his head back, exposing his neck in the process. You trail small, wet kisses from the side of his face, along his jawline, and down his neck, before stopping at the junction between his neck and collarbone. You suck harshly on his skin, earning yourself a few moans from Jungkook, and you feel his chest vibrate.

Jungkook takes hold of your neck, his hand on your throat and kisses you intensely, attempting to express the longing he has felt for you since the moment you walked into the studio. His tongue swipes against your lower lip asking for entrance, and you don’t hesitate to let him in. As his tongue dances with yours, you feel his hands tug at your skirt before he pulls it down, pausing to allow you to lift off the desk enough for him to remove it along with your bra, tossing them to join the rest of the clothes on the floor.

The sight of your naked torso distracts him from doing anything else, his gaze lingers on your breasts before it shifts to your hip where your tattoo is. Jungkook’s hand instinctively glides over the skin adorned with black ink.

“It's still my favourite piece I've ever done,” Jungkook mutters before he plants kisses along your sternum and then finally on your breasts. Before his lips can explore further, you cup his face and bring it back to yours, and you both smile into the kiss. He gathers you in his arms and moves toward the tattoo chair behind him.

Jungkook carefully lowers you onto the reclined chair, and you watch as he stands at the edge of it, removing the black jeans that are already halfway down his legs. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind that you’re watching every movement of his; you bite your lip and smirk, and it seems to turn him on even further, which urges him to discard his pants and join you quickly.

He crawls over you, supporting his weight with the arms on either side of your head. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips before he begins his exploration of your body, using his lips. Open-mouthed kisses are placed along your neck, across the curve of your breasts, and back up to your neck, where he decides to leave his mark by sucking on the skin at the base of your neck. The noises that escape your lips only motivate him to suck even more aggressively, creating even more red marks as he moves down your body.

“Kook, do something,” and as if he had been waiting for those words, Jungkook starts to move lower on your body until he’s hovering over your clothed pussy. You watch as his nose skims over the wet patch on your underwear. His hands smooth over your legs before they settle onto your hips, which he doesn’t leave unmarked as he sucks on the skin above your tattoo. Your hips rise, yet his stronghold stops you from squirming. “Kook, I need you.”

Upon hearing your desperate begging, Jungkook presses a finger to your covered heat, skillfully finding the bundle of nerves that have you writhing beneath his touch. He begins to rub between your legs, with the sole barrier to full contact being the delicate piece of cloth. He keeps teasing you through your panties, relishing the sounds you make as you squirm beneath him. Deciding that you’ve had enough of the torture, Jungkook hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties before pulling them down, revealing your glistening cunt. He locks eyes with you, and you observe from above as he slips a finger inside you, his stare unwavering. As he pumps his finger inside you, your head tilts back, and you let out a string of moans.

“You’re so tight, baby,” Jungkook comments before inserting another finger inside you, gentle kisses along the inside of your thighs as your hands weave into his hair. You’re surprised when you feel him sucking on your clit; the extra stimulation makes you tremble against his thrusting fingers.

“Mmm, and so wet. Your pussy tastes so good, so fucking sweet.”

“Oh my god, K-kook,” your back arches off the bed as he adds in a third finger while keeping his mouth on your sex. He smiles triumphantly upon hearing you repeat his name like a mantra, and he sets out to ensure you’re moaning it even more loudly. You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress your desperate moans, but it's in vain when Jungkook curls his fingers within you, hitting a specific spot that causes you to clutch his hair tightly and cry out his name shamelessly.

Jungkook relentlessly drives into you, his fingers curled to target the spot that makes you moan his name, while his mouth remains attached to your clit, teeth lightly tugging and grazing the bud before his lips form a tight seal around it. You feel the pressure in your lower stomach intensify with every thrust of Jungkook's fingers and every flick of his tongue, all leading up to your orgasm.

Jungkook watches as the wave of ecstasy flows through your body, and he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, with the way your face contorts in ecstasy. His fingers are still thrusting inside, helping you ride out your high, but the oversensitivity soon becomes too much, and you have to push him away.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to notice what a handsome man Jungkook truly is. Complementing his defined biceps and strong thighs were his abs, impeccably shaped, and you observe as the stunning man above you licks the remnants of you from his fingers. The sight has you wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down so that his chest meets yours. Jungkook smirks at your action before he hungrily attacks your lips with his glistening ones, letting you taste yourself as you recover from your climax.

“Take this off,” you mumble against his lips, your foot at his lower back attempting to push his boxers down. He quickly complies with your request, shedding the dark grey boxers before leaning down to his jeans on the floor to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket and get a condom. He rips open the foil with his teeth, being careful not to tear the condom in the process, before rolling it down his length. He hovers over you again, keeping most of his weight off of you with the support of his arms.

Jungkook kisses at your navel before trailing upward towards your breasts. His mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking on it, he takes his time sucking one breast while kneading the other one before he switches. Your hands hold onto his biceps, gliding over his skin as he prepares your body for another climax. When he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your two mounds, he places one more kiss against your lips before looking into your eyes.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Mhm, Kook. Want you so bad.”

And so Jungkook takes his length and aligns himself at your entrance, the tip of his member almost pushing past your folds. He gives you one last peck on the corner of your mouth before his member sinks into your pussy, making you wince at the stretch of your walls. He pushes himself until he is buried deep within you, causing you to whimper when you feel his full length inside of you. Jungkook groans loudly as he feels himself being embraced by the warmth and tightness of your wet, velvety walls. He reaches for your hands and lifts them to rest on both sides of your head and interlocks your fingers with his. His forehead meets yours, and both of you share a longing gaze while relishing the moment. Once you've adjusted to his size, you move beneath him, and Jungkook takes it as a signal to begin his ravaging.

He pulls back all the way, leaving only his tip inside of you, before pushing himself balls-deep within you once again. You urge him on with your voice, calling for him to go faster and harder, and he complies by thrusting into you at an astonishing speed. With each thrust of his, Jungkook’s name escapes your lips in moans that fill the studio, along with his panting and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You feel the warmth of his chest leave yours when he sits up, his hands gripping your waist, pressing his fingernails into your skin. The new position allows him to pull you to meet each of his thrusts, hitting at a new angle that makes you cry out his name. When he starts hitting that same spot that tipped you over the edge earlier, you grab his arms and pull him so that he’s on top of you again. His entire weight is on top of you, but you don’t care, not when his thrusts are paired with his lips on your neck.

You moan loudly, which is followed by your pussy convulsing around his cock, and Jungkook knows that you’re close. Your nails scratch against his broad back, leaving a stinging sensation that only adds to his pleasure. You're sure he’ll have red marks all over his back as if he’s been attacked, but it's a fair trade because he’s marked you plenty with his lips.

Jungkook feels you clenching around him even tighter than before, and he’s slamming his hips against yours, urging you to reach your climax. When Jungkook feels your nails dig deeper into his back, his hand reaches between your two sweaty bodies and draws circles on your clit, which sends you off into euphoria. Your second orgasm of the night hits you harder than the first, and your body would have trembled if it were not for Jungkook’s body in the way—the body that is still connected to yours and continues thrusting into you. Your swollen walls clench so tightly that Jungkook starts chasing his high. He groans loudly against your neck as he shallowly thrusts into you, helping the both of you ride out your orgasms.  

Jungkook sighs in release, unaware of how long he’s been holding his breath. Jungkook detaches himself from you, and you gasp lightly, feeling somewhat empty as the warmth leaves with him. He rolls off of you, and the two of you lie close together, side by side, attempting to regain your breath after the intense exchange. You sense his gaze from the corner of your eye, and when you turn to face him, your eyes meet his round, dark brown ones.

"Come here."

Unsatisfied with just your shoulders touching, Jungkook turns onto his side, and you do the same before the both of you shift closer to each other. His hands rest naturally on your hips as if returning them to their rightful place. No words are exchanged between the two of you, but there is no need to because you find yourself lost in the softness of his brown eyes, and he can’t help but mirror the wide grin that’s plastered on your face. His hand moves to your tattoo, and you observe his expression as his fingers hover over the indelible design on your skin. His eyes hold a sparkle that evokes a certain emotion to wash over you.

“So, do you feel better?” you ask, breaking the silence of the afterglow, but he looks confused at your words, and you find the sight adorable. “You were stressed out...”

“Me? Stressed out? Huh, I don't know what you're talking about.”

You are the one who's confused this time, but not for long, because the realization hits you when you see his mischievous smirk. You punch his arm playfully, and he grins almost too widely, his eyes forming crescents. His hands, which were placing feathery touches on your tattoo, are now tickling your sides, and he’s elated at the sound of your joyful laughter before pulling you against his chest.

Jungkook looks around the studio, the neon lights casting shadows on his face, "I feel good; how could I not? This is a first for me though— fucking at work."

You look up at him with raised brows in surprise, Jungkook smiles down at you and continues.

"You know, I didn't think the next time I had you back in my chair would be like this."

"Oh my gosh," you blush and hide your face in his chest, a little embarrassed but mostly shy at his remark. He laughs, and you feel it rumble through his chest; his hand lifts to pet down the back of your head.

"You can't be shy with me after all that. Every time I'm working on a client now, all I will be thinking about is you beneath me in this chair."

"I can't imagine what the crew would think if they found out what we did," you mumble into his chest with a little laugh.

"They would think I'm a sterilizing expert because there will be no evidence of what happened here," he sits up and gently strokes your ass, and then gives it a pinch, eliciting a gasp from you, "You're in charge of the desk, you little minx; I'll do the chair," he winks at you.

You're left to blush again, swooning as you both get up to remove any trace of the two of you in the studio.

✧ ──── 》》 ──── ✧

You blink away the tears forming in your eyes. Your thumb hovers over his name, considering calling him back just as you hear a knock at your door.

Answer your phone I've got so much to say I'm at my all-time low And it's just too much to take

Jungkook can raise his hands and admits he didn't handle that night as well as he could have, but he is truly sorry. He realizes that even if his intention wasn't to hurt or offend you, what he did wasn't his best moment. As much as he tells you that you are special to him and that what you two have is different—which is true—his actions didn't match his words, and you deserve better than that. Jungkook may not be the perfect gentleman, far from it, but he is better than that, especially when it concerns you.

As the hands of the clock tick away and more time passes, he gets up and begins pacing.

If you listened to his message you would have called by now right?

Jungkook isn't used to this—needing someone. Sure, he has desired certain women, and he always got them, but once the lust faded, he never wanted them to stay; never needed them to stay.

He hasn't always been like this, and he knows where it all began: the fear of giving his all to someone and then losing them, of handing over his heart to another and having them desecrate it.

Jungkook refused to be like his father; he watched him give his mother everything and love her immensely, only for her to run off without regard for him or Jungkook.

He fears emotionally connecting with someone else will end as he has always seen: being left alone and heartbroken.  

Because inevitably love is never simple, nor is it equal in the sacrifice of pouring oneself into another.

He can't imagine what could be worse than letting someone in and loving so wholly only to be left empty because you offered yourself up to someone undeserving.

Jungkook knows how good of a man his father is, and if he could get burned and scarred by love, Jungkook knows he doesn't stand a chance.

And who would willingly walk into a fire?

When people asked him why he didn't get into a serious relationship, he would say, “I like change. Life is too long to commit to one person and too short not to explore your options.”

But that was before he discovered you. Once you fit into his life so perfectly he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without you. He knew he had found that one constant in his life. 

The constant being: Y/L/N Y/N.

What he shared with you has always been simple, and the effort you both put in has always been equal.

Jungkook never believed he would find that kind of connection, one that flows with ease. Now that he has found it, he desires to keep you in his life and wants you to remain a part of him.

He will walk through the flames if you're on the other side.

Jungkook has never been fond of lingering and preferred moving from one thing to the next, one woman to the next. He didn't enjoy being too close; he always kept people at a distance maybe not physically but emotionally. Tattooing has been the only steady thing in his life; he was committed to his craft.

But you broke down his walls, shattered the pattern—you got close. He found the courage to let his guard down. He knows there is nothing to be wary of, no looming feeling that he will be met with disappointment. Everything is easy with you.

His cowardice had him ruling out a love that hadn't happened yet. Maybe he is a fool, but he can't live with regret. He's ready to dive off the deep end. It's draining to always be on the defence, ready to push people away, and he's tired. He wants to settle down and commit to you.

Jungkook can be vulnerable around you; he knows you won't use his weaknesses against him like people have in his past. You don't even view them as things that make him weak just what makes him human, because no one can be perfect. However, he would argue that you seem to be pretty damn close.

He feels most comfortable with you; he trusts you and can be himself. There is no pretence with you; Jungkook likes who he is around you.

Jungkook loves you.

In your eyes, he is the guy who comforted you when he saw how nervous you were while getting your first tattoo. The one who keeps an extra hoodie in his car for you because you are never dressed for the weather. The one who finishes work and picks up takeout for the two of you to eat together. That's the Jungkook you see, the one you know better than anyone else—the one you have wrapped around your precious finger.

You've never asked him to be any different from who he is, despite his shortcomings in many aspects. You never judge him for the life he's leading and never pressure him to change his ways, no matter how flawed. Yet you still never expect the worst from him.

So now, all he fears is that he has accomplished the one thing he dreaded the most, and has destroyed the link holding the two of you together.

Should he go to your place?

Jungkook hasn't gone over because he didn't want to seem overbearing; he wanted to give you your space until you felt ready to talk to him on your terms. Also, if you weren't answering his calls, you most likely wouldn't answer your door either.

But he doesn't want you to think he won't fight for you. He won't lose you without a lack of trying. If Jungkook is anything, he is persistent. He has too much left to say to you and he isn't about to sit here and take this distance any longer. He's willing to do whatever it takes.

As he looks out of his window and stares at the hundreds of lights, he feels a new surge of determination; he is rising from this low point he has sunk into, fed up with wallowing in his self-pity.

He turns and strides to his door, yanking it open with vigour. He sprints down the stairs and rushes outside into the chilly night, heading straight for his car.

Jungkook pulls out of his spot and drives the familiar route to your house, accelerating down the road at the maximum speed permitted by law. In his state of urgency, it seems that all he encounters are red lights and stop signs.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he has to hold himself back from stomping too hard on the gas pedal when the light turns green.

Answer your phone I've got to get to you God, I hope you're alone And someone new isn't next to you

Y/N POV

You gather yourself and halt your wandering thoughts to get up and check who is at your door. You are not expecting anyone, and you told your friends you won't be going out with them tonight. Your excuse was being too tired from work, but honestly, you just were too sad to pretend that you were okay.

Could it be him? He said he wouldn't give up, that he had to see me.

Do you want it to be him? You would be lying to yourself if you said no.

So it's a surprise when you open the door and see Taehyung standing there with his hands in his front pockets, teetering back and forth on his heels.

A part of you is disappointed, not because it's Taehyung but because it's not Jungkook.

"Tae? I said in the group chat that I'm not going out tonight. Didn't you see my message?"

He looks you up and down and barges in, walking past you.

"And didn't you see my message? I said you are going out tonight and I was coming over to pick you up. Why aren't you ready?"

To be fair you were so preoccupied on your phone, listening to Jungkook's message and reminiscing, that you didn't notice any other messages. But when you go to your chats, you see his words are true.

He plops down on your couch, stretching his arm out on the back and gives you an expectant look, his eyes wide and his brows raised.

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Go get ready," he makes a shooing gesture with his hand and continues.

"The clubs aren't open all night—well, actually they are..." his brows furrow as he looks off into the distance for a brief moment, then catches himself. "But I don't have all night, so let's go!" He demands with a clap of his hands.

"I'm not going out tonight, Tae. I told everyone I'm staying home."

You lie down on the couch next to his seated figure, with your back resting against the armrest.

"Didn't we just go over this?" he points between the two of you. "You are going out; everyone is already at the club. They got a table, and I'm sure Jimin has already downed a shocking amount of shots, so we have to leave soon if we want to catch up."

Taehyung taps your knee twice and then shoves your legs off the couch, bringing you to a sitting position. You take a deep breath and throw your head back, crossing your arms while closing your eyes.

"I don't feel like going out. I want to stay home."

"And do what? Continue to sulk over pretty tattoo boy?"

You open your eyes and turn your head toward him, pouting, "I was not sulking."

He stares at you with a raised brow, filled with doubt.

Rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh, your arms drop to your sides, "I'm just not in the mood, I'll only bring down the vibe."

Taehyung turns his body to face you, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"You're only making this harder for yourself by just sitting around and thinking about him, Y/N. I understand that you like him a lot—I do—but a guy like that isn't worth wasting your life waiting for him."

You look down at your hands in your lap and chip at your nail polish.

"He's been leaving me messages. He tells me how sorry he is and that he misses me. He sounds like he's having a rough time, too. That doesn't erase what he did, I know, but it was just one mistake. He's a good man, Tae. I've always known he wasn't perfect, but everyone has faults, right?"

Taehyung holds your hand and squeezes it, leaning down to meet your gaze. His voice is careful when he speaks.

"People like him always know the right thing to say. If he were such a good guy, he wouldn't have used you the way he did. Yes, everyone has faults, but you can find someone whose faults don't hurt you. It may have been only one mistake, but if he truly cared about you as he claimed, he would have never treated you that way."

Tears form in your eyes and your voice cracks. "It's just—I know him; it sounds pathetic, but he has shown me a side of himself that I know he doesn't show everyone. The real him and that's the Jungkook who has my heart. That's the Jungkook I love. We've experienced so much together, it's difficult to just move on from him."

"If you don't try to move on from him, how can you expect to, babe?"

He's right; you haven't tried. Throughout this entire period of your ignoring him, you have consistently kept Jungkook in your thoughts. Every time you went out with friends, every time a guy tried to flirt with you, and every time you held your phone—Jungkook. When you woke up, when you were at work, and when you went to bed—Jungkook. Even when you heard a knock at your door, as Taehyung did earlier, you hoped it was Jungkook.

Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook.

Your mind and heart were devoted to Jungkook. Everything revolved around him.

Your tears overflow, and you finally break. Taehyung wraps his arms around you, and you cry into his shoulder. He holds you until you calm down, and your sobs turn into sniffles.

You lift your head and wipe your cheeks.

"I'm such a mess, I'm so sorry, Tae. You came out to have a good time, and here you are consoling me. I have probably fucked up your fun night out," you croak out. "I must seem so stupid, all hung up over a guy."

"You haven't ruined anything, and you certainly aren't stupid. I would never think that of you. I know how much of yourself you give to someone important to you. I wish you would give yourself to someone worthy, not someone who takes advantage of you. You are an amazing person, and if Jungkook hasn't realized how lucky he is to have you, then he's the stupid one, Y/N."

"Thank you, Tae. Not just for tonight, but for listening to me go on about Jungkook this past month like a sad, broken record. You stuck by me, have been so caring, and always validated my emotions. I swear I'm the one who's lucky and unworthy of you."

"Nonsense, you know you can depend on me anytime," he says, patting your head and smiling affectionately.

You smile back, glance down, and see his shirt is stained with your tears.

"I ruined your shirt," you sniffle, pinching at the fabric.

Taehyung looks down at it and shrugs, "Hey, I prefer your tears to stain my shirt rather than Jimin's vomit," he jokes to lighten the mood.

You laugh, and he points at your face, his expression bright.

"Aha! There she is! Happy Y/N, I thought I had lost her!" he exclaims.

He turns his head, looking around, arms stretched out as if speaking to a crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, no need to fear; I have managed to make Y/N laugh."

Taehyung once again proves to be the best friend one could have; you can always count on him to cheer you up and gather the pieces of your broken heart without fail.

"Shut up, Tae. I have neighbours," you giggle, playfully pushing him.

He joins your giggles and returns your playful push, "Well then, go get dressed! If you don't I will run up and down the hallway screaming. I came here to take you out and have fun. Sitting at home alone can't be better than partying with your insanely funny, incredibly handsome best friend. And if that isn't enough, Seokin's dancing is a sure way to lift anyone's spirit."

"Okay, fine," you agree, getting up with a big smile. The image of Seokjin's dancing already boosts your mood.

Making your way to your bedroom, you yell out, "But if anyone comments on my swollen eyes, you'll be dealing with them!"

"I've got your back, babe. Don't worry!"

You can always count on Taehyung.

Tell me, tell me now am I too late Is there somebody new taking my place? Is there somebody's lips on you Where mine used to be, yeah?

Jungkook parks across the street from your building; he sits in his car, pondering whether it's too late to knock at your door. Are you already asleep? Should he have waited until tomorrow? If you answer and open it to find him standing there, will you shut it in his face?

He knows right now he's not your favourite person, but he doesn't believe you would be so cruel as to turn him away at your doorstep.

He rubs his hands down his face and lets out a deep sigh.

How could he let things end up like this?

He ruined something so special, so sacred. Building a relationship so pure and superior doesn't happen to everyone, and he managed to have it hanging by a thread.

Your relationship can't just end because of one mistake—a big mistake, yes, but he believes that what you two have is strong enough to overcome this. The two of you have made so many wonderful, meaningful memories.

Jungkook remembers how good things were before this—before he ruined everything.

✧ ──── 《《 ──── ✧

Jungkook never imagined he would witness such a breathtaking sight: you bare before him, glazed eyes and slightly parted lips, lovely sounds escaping as he traced wet kisses along the nape of your neck, down your throat, over the curves of your breasts, pausing to swirl his tongue over a sensitive bud, drawing out his name from your throat, the same one now decorated with shades of blue and purple.

“Please, Kook,” you beg, pleading with him for more, and he is more than willing to give it to you, knowing he can hardly deny you anything.

He smiles, kissing his way back up to your lips, positioning his body over yours and aligning his hips so he can slide into your warmth with a soft thrust, the wetness coating the inside of your thighs showing how aroused he has made you.

You clutch at his shoulders with a moan, nails digging in and creating crescent shapes with every thrust he makes. Jungkook fucks you slow and deep, hitting every nerve within you, making you unravel before him in no time at all. His lips move slowly against yours, tongues twirling together as your legs wrap tightly around his body, drawing him closer and deeper into you, his sighs of contentment pouring into your mouth.

Jungkook is sure this is what heaven feels like: his hands on you, hips rocking against your own as you devour the sounds escaping each other's lips. You encourage one another until he picks up pace, gazing down at your face, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

The coil in your stomach tightens, twisting, and is ready to snap. Jungkook is also at his limit, eyes hooded but maintaining eye contact with yours, his forearms supporting his weight on either side of your body.

Overcome with pleasure, the feeling of his skin against your own, united with you in the most intimate way two people can be. The act is sinful but fully infused with the profound bond you both share. What you and Jungkook have cannot be expressed in words, and he does not think the two of you need to articulate what you both understand.

“Come on, baby, cum for me,” he husks, gently nibbling at your jaw.

One of his hands moves to where your bodies meet, flicking his thumb over your clit repeatedly. Then you come undone, the release so intense that his name echoes off every corner of the small bedroom. He continues throughout your orgasm, prolonging it until the sensation of your walls tightening around him brings him to his climax, spilling inside of you with a groan of your name, lips pressed harshly to yours, putting everything he feels into a single kiss.

He pulls away, carefully removes the condom and ties a knot at its end before disposing of it and falling onto the bed, shifting onto his side to look at you. The moonlight streams through the window, illuminating your skin in a radiant glow. Jungkook trails his fingertips along the surface of your arm, moving down until he reaches your hip, pulling you closer to him as you tuck your head into his chest.

Jungkook spots the numerous red crescents on your body already beginning to take on a darker colour — almost as deep as the black ink he used for your tattoo. Jungkook wishes for nothing more than the colour of the marks to be so deep that it will cover you forever.

He holds you close, his thumb brushing over the familiar tattoo on your hip— the everlasting mark that brought you two together. You found each other that day months ago when you walked into his studio and had him ink his design on you, and ever since then, you have been a part of his life. The ink serves as a reminder of the bond between you and Jungkook, etched onto your skin just as you are to him.

“You should let me give you another one."

“What do you think I should get?” you whisper against his chest.

"My name, here," he replies, his inked finger tracing just above the left side of your chest, right over your heart.  

You smile as you push him so that he lies on his back; you move to lie on your stomach between his legs, your chin resting on his chest. His hands come to your back, caressing it up and down.

"Hmm, and you'll get my name here," you lightly run your pointer finger over his left pec.

Jungkook lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiles tenderly, and nods while humming in agreement. His fingers linger, skimming your face as his gaze softens. His eyes are filled with adoration as he looks at you.

Jungkook can feel your heartbeat against his stomach; he wonders if you can feel his own under your touch. Both of your hearts are beating rapidly, which he assumes is due to the physical exertion you both just experienced and not from this impassioned moment you two are having.

He can physically feel how much affection there is between you two. He has never felt that before. It's moments like this that make Jungkook feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

"Aren't tattoo artists usually against getting other people's names tattooed?" you tease with a smirk and a raised brow.

Jungkook shrugs with a smirk, his tongue playing with his lip rings, "I live by my own rules."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, "Oh, what a rebel you are."

Jungkook's hands go to your sides and tickle you with a gentle pinch.

"Kook!" you laugh as you jolt further up his body.

"Kook!" he mocks in a high-pitched voice, imitating you before wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close.

You pout and make a soft 'hmph' sound so insanely cute that Jungkook can't resist the smile spreading across his face; he laughs and then kisses your pouty lips and all over your face. You giggle and lightly tug his necklace with your finger, bringing his mouth to yours for a long, sweet kiss. When you break apart, Jungkook gives one final peck above your left breast.

"I was serious, you know," he murmurs, voice low. He juts his chin lightly to where he last placed his lips.

"Haven't you marked me enough?" you stretch out your neck and gesture at the hickey-covered skin.

"I wanna mark you every way I can, baby," he smiles smugly.

One of your hands plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the other plays with the hoop in his ear. You avoid eye contact, keeping your eyes focused on the earring.

"Tattoos are forever, Kook," you say sheepishly.

"You're telling me," Jungkook chuckles, tilting his head toward his right arm covered in a sleeve of tattoos. He turns his head to kiss your wrist and then cups your face with both hands, making you look at him, "Hey, you planning on going somewhere and not telling me?"

You shake your head, his big hands still holding it.

"Hmm, I'm a bit worried now; I need to hear you say it," he squints his eyes, teasing.

"No, I'm not going anywhere," you grin.

Jungkook mirrors your grin and nods, "Good," he pulls your face closer and nudges his nose against yours, "Because I'm not either."

He squishes your cheeks together in his hands, making your lips pucker out.

"It's not easy to find someone this cute," he coos, shaking your head.

You pull your head from his grasp and lightly slap his chest. His hands slide down to your ass and give it a firm squeeze, long fingers digging into the smooth flesh.

"Even harder to find someone equally as sexy,” he whispers in your ear, his teeth grazing lightly. His voice is so deep you feel it vibrate through his body against yours.

"Huh, it can't be too hard, I found you," you quip, poking his cheek.

Jungkook gives your ass a spank, and you gasp as he flips you both over, with you now under his hovering body.

"Why don't I show you just how lucky we both are?" his tone dripping with seduction.

The tip of his nose trails down your neck as his lips ghost over your skin, down to the valley of your breasts. He stops to knead the soft mounds, surging forward to swirl his tongue over one of the hardened nubs before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. He hums in satisfaction. He releases it, giving it a gentle bite, and switches to show the other the same attention.

Once pleased, he continues his trail past your stomach and stops at your pulsing heat. He nestles his head between your legs, his hands grip your thighs and spread you wide open, your already slick folds clench around nothing in anticipation.

Jungkook gives your clit a teasing lick before diving in without hesitation. You whimper when his mouth latches onto you, his wide tongue licking a slow, filthy stripe over your slit, your hands flying into his hair. He groans, his eyes rolling back as he tastes you, his tongue circling your clit and then flicking over it repeatedly before dragging down to press at your entrance. Your hand tightens in his hair as his tongue presses deep into your dripping hole.

“Fuck, Kook,” you whine, grinding harder as your thighs tighten around his head.

He exhales through his nose, eyes crinkling as he smiles into your pussy when you buck your hips against his face. The sequence of sucking, licking, and prodding with his lips and tongue has you both writhing in ecstasy. The wet, sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue working against you fill the room. The intimate night of passion continues until the moon gives way to the sun.

✧ ──── 》》 ──── ✧

Jungkook is pulled out of his memories when he sees the door of the main entrance to your building open. He watches you step out, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest upon seeing you.

Your short, tight dress hugs your body in all the right places. Your tall, thin high heels complement your legs phenomenally. Your hair cascades down your figure, making you look like an angel. You look gorgeous.

The sight of you would bring any man to his knees. You must be dressed to go out for the night, so he must act now if he doesn't want his drive here to be for nothing. He moves to get out of his car, but just as his hand touches the handle, he sees a man walk out right behind you, and Jungkook freezes.

Jungkook looks closely at the man's face; he's good-looking. He's sure he recognizes him from your posts. He looks like one of the guys you've tagged in your pictures, the ones where he's had his arm around you. The happy idiot. What was it... Taemin? Taejin? Taewoo?

Whoever he is, he extends his arm for you to link with yours, and you do. You're about to step down the stairs when you stop and say something to the man. You have an anxious expression, but whatever you say to the man beside you only brings a fond smile to his face. He responds to you and leans down to kiss your cheek.

The cheek that Jungkook's lips have been on more times than he can count.

And you light up as if he made everything better. You walk down the stairs, arm in arm with the man whom Jungkook worries has taken his place.

Once you step off the last step, you stop once more, unlink your arm, and pull out your phone. The light from the screen shines on your face; you tap your fingers on it for a few seconds before putting it back in your purse. You relink your arms with who Jungkook thinks is the luckiest guy in the world and set off down the street, heading to your destination.

Jungkook feels the wind being knocked out of him. He hadn't even realized he had gotten out of his car. He stands far enough that you don't notice him, but close enough to see you perfectly. To see how you were on the phone he knows is full of his messages and calls—that you are still ignoring.

Tell me, tell me now, what can I do To make it up to you Won't you tell me, please? Tell me, please

All the hope and determination he had when he left his house seemed to have disintegrated. He feels small, much like your figure becomes as you walk further away from him on the arm of another.

Jungkook stares at your back until he loses sight of you as you round the corner. He stands there feeling like he has just been slapped in the face for the second time tonight, but this one stings much more.

What else can he do?

Jungkook doesn't know how to make it up to you, and at this point, he's unsure if he's fighting a losing battle. You seem to be doing just fine without him. It hurts to see you happy when he has been miserable without you.

He needs you to talk to him, to tell him what to do to win you back. What he has to do so he can hear your laugh, smell your scent, and touch your skin. He needs to have you back in his arms, on his lips—in his life.

He tilts his head back, eyes focused on the moon and how it mocks him, shining brightly while he is filled with darkness.

He stands there, disoriented; all he can do is let out a bitter laugh at the irony that he drove all the way here to watch you walk away from him—now and quite possibly forever.

With a sad smile, he is overwhelmed with questions, out of his mind. Why are you two ending? How can you? How can you two end?  

All your memories together overflow out of his perforated heart, he puts his hand over his chest trying to block them and keep them inside, but they escape through his fingers.

Jungkook had you by his side and took you for granted; now he is watching you be cherished by another man while he stands by like a stranger in the night.

He doesn't want to be like this, he doesn't. He hates this, really hates this.

He doesn't believe it would hurt this much even if his heart stopped.

Answer your phone I've got to talk to you I'm out here in the cold Trying to get through to you, oh

Jungkook never envisioned that when he finally loved someone, he would be left alone and heartbroken— not because you decided to run off, not because you were undeserving, but because he pushed you away.  

He took too long to walk through the flames and got burned. He dove off the deep end too late into a pool of emptiness and hit the bottom.

Jungkook stands in the street, the cold air biting at his cheeks, but he can't find the strength to return to his car and drive home. He came here on a mission to talk to you face to face. He hopes that if he stands here long enough, you might walk back around that corner and come straight to him. He hopes you will answer his plea and do something to fix him. Hold him in your arms and tell him that everything will be okay and that the two of you will work together to mend what has been broken.

But you don't, and Jungkook's heart may be beyond repair at this rate.

Jungkook's heart hurts so badly that it's strange that he's even alive.

He should have followed you, chased you blindly even if you were trying to run away from him. He should have yelled at the top of his lungs that there's a hole in his heart that can't be filled and he's dying of pain.

How can he forget you? He doesn't know how to do that.

Like the tattoo he inked on your hip, you are etched in him— an indelible impression on his heart.

You are the only person he wants, your hands to comfort him, your voice to soothe his heart.

He'll have to settle for listening to your voice through the phone, even if it's only your voicemail.

Jungkook digs into his pocket for his phone, unlocks it and with your name already on the screen, presses the call button and waits.

Answer your phone, answer your phone Answer your phone, answer your phone Answer your phone

But he doesn't have to wait for long.

He's immediately met with a voice, but not your sweet voice; instead it's an answering machine.

And now he has been slapped for the third time tonight, so hard that he stands there in the cold, gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles might bleed. He releases a shaky breath as his eyes fill with tears, and spill over before he knows it.

Jungkook is hit with the reality that you still refuse to talk to him. You have now blocked his number on your phone and blocked him out of your life.

"We are unable to reach the person you are calling at this time. Please try calling back later."

↬ so how do we feel? hope he suffered enough for your liking. let me know what you think! muah! 💋

taglist: @bangtans-momma @celticcountrygal @annafarrr

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 2

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 4,8k

Tags: bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader, banter

Summary: you're still resisting your new bodyguards and while there seems to be a brat war going on between minho, seungmin and you, you slowly warm up to some of the others. a/n: I nearly deleted the whole chapter and started over like six times while writing this lmao. I hope you like it <3

With Chan and Minho on your heels you storm into Yoona’s office without knocking. Luckily for you she’s not in a meeting nor is she on the phone or she would have probably fired your ass on the spot. Your manager looks up from her computer and frowns at you.

‘Where’s the fire, Nabi?’ 

‘Don’t Nabi me,’ you hiss, balling your fist to stop yourself from angrily pointing at her. You might be angry, but you still respect the woman. 

‘Ah, so you’re that mad at me,’ Yoona sighs, crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. ‘Go on then, give me your worst.’ 

You grit your teeth and look over your shoulder at your two future bodyguards, pondering if you should really give Yoona a piece of your mind with them present. Chan looks worried, but when you meet Minho’s gaze he just raises his eyebrows at you, fueling your anger. 

‘They are not moving in with me,’ you growl, taking a step forward to create distance between you and the two men. ‘You can’t force this on me.’ 

Yoona stays silent, knowing you well enough that this won’t be all. 

‘You want them to follow me around all day, fine, but I’m not being watched twenty four seven, Yoon. Even Faris isn’t with me at night now, so why should they?’ 

‘Yeah and look what happened, some lunatic tried to break into your house,’ Minho mumbles. 

‘I moved!’ you yell, turning around to glare at him. 

Minho isn’t impressed and once again raises his eyebrows at you. ‘And you think that no one will find out your new address? I’m sorry to break your bubble, Princess, but stalkers are named just that for a reason and you have some real messed up fans.’ 

‘I also bought a new fancy security system,’ you cross your arms, not breaking your eye contact with him. 

‘Even those can fail, Y/N,’ Chan says, stepping forward with his hands raised as if he’s trying to show you he means no harm. ‘If something really happens it still takes a few minutes for someone to reach you.’ 

He has a point, but you’re not going to give up this easily. 

‘I’ll get a guard dog then,’ you shrug, only partly bluffing. 

Minho snorts and shakes his head. ‘You’re impossible you know, you should be grateful.’ 

‘Grateful?’ you laugh humorlessly. ‘Sure buddy, I’m oh so grateful that I’ll lose even more of my privacy.’ 

They really don’t get it, do they? As an idol you already have little to no privacy, your life being led by your manager and the company you signed under while the media and your fans watch your every move. You love the life, your fans and even the hard work you have to put in, but sometimes the sacrifices still hurt. Sometimes you wish you could experience normal life again, like going to the grocery store or the mall without security or people following you around. 

Minho glares at you and opens his mouth to say something else, but Chan steps in front of him. ‘And we understand,’ he says softly, smiling kindly at you. 

‘Well, I don’t,’ Minho grumbles. 

‘We do,’ Chan keeps his eyes on you as he speaks. ‘I know it will be a sacrifice to share your home with us, but Faris and Yoona picked this house for a reason.’ 

You glance at Yoona and she nods. 

‘It might be a big house, but I’ll still know you’re there. I’ll never be home alone. I won’t be able to walk around in my underwear in my own fucking home or dance on the table while eating ice cream straight out of the carton.’ 

‘You still can if you want to,’ Chan grins. ‘But I get your point and I promise you that we’ll try to be as invisible as possible.’ 

‘There must be another way? Can’t you take turns guarding my door or something?’ you try again. 

‘Selfish much,’ Minho says under his breath and this time Chan also glares at him. 

Anger starts to bubble up in your belly again, but before you can even think about yelling some more, Yoona appears next to you. She wraps her arms around you and presses a kiss against your temple.

'Just get over it, darling, this is happening.’ she says. ‘Now go home and enjoy the peace and quiet while you still can. Tomorrow Minho, Felix and Hyunjin will join you for training and by this weekend they will all move in.’ 

You open your mouth to protest some more, but Yoona is already walking back to her desk, letting you know that this conversation is over. You know her well enough to know that no matter what you say or how much you beg, she won’t change her mind on this. When you risk to glance at the men, Minho grins at you and Chan smiles. 

‘Fuck my life,’ you mutter. 

****

You don't talk to any of the men again and just ask Faris to take you home so you can spend the rest of the day mopping in your room filled with unpacked boxes while Faris sits downstairs doing god knows what.

The next day you feel a little better and when you eat your breakfast you text Jisung.

You: Sorry about storming out yesterday.

Jisung:You’re already forgiven (by me at least)

You: Tell Minho to leave his judgement at home

Jisung:How did you know I was with him?

You:Lucky guess. Will you be at the company today?

Jisung:Yes, I'm already on my way. Chan is picking you up.

You frown at your phone and look at Faris who's reading the paper across from you while sipping his tea.

'You’re not coming with me today?' You ask him, pushing away your half eaten bowl of porridge.

Faris looks up with a smile. 'Ji-a has an appointment I'd like to be at, so I asked Chan to be with you until I'm back.'

'Oh, of course,' you give him a small smile in return. 'You should definitely be with Ji-a.'

Faris folds up the paper. 'It will be good for you to spend some time with him, Nabi, just give him a chance.'

'Yeah, okay,' you nod. 'I'll try.'

‘Good,’ Faris smiles. ‘I’m sure you’ll grow to love them.’

‘We’ll see,’ you smile back. ‘Chan and Jisung seem really nice at least.’ 

When the man beams at you, you promise yourself you’ll try to be a bit easier on the whole situation, if only to make Faris happy. 

Chan arrives shortly after you clean up your breakfast and you quickly grab your bag and trusty water bottle, trying very hard not to stare at how good he looks in his dark blue suit. It's a crime really and you already know that one of these days he’s going to catch you staring. 

‘You ready?’ Chan asks.

You nod and wave at Faris. ‘Give Ji-a my love.’ 

‘Will do, Nabi. Try and not piss off too many people today, yeah?’ 

You laugh. ‘Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.’

Chan chuckles as he holds open the front door for you. ‘Should I warn the others?’ 

You shrug as you follow him to the car, already taking out your phone to text Jisung you’re on your way. He quickly replies with a thumbs up. 

‘Why don’t you sit next to me?’ Chan asks when you reach the car. ‘I’d like to talk a bit if that’s alright.’ 

‘Oh, sure,’ you nod before walking around the car to get to the other side. 

The smell of coffee and sandalwood hits your nose as you get into the passenger seat and you smile in surprise. There’s two to go cups on the dashboard and the sandalwood must either be Chan’s cologne or some sort of car perfume. It smells nice. 

Chan sits down behind the wheel and when you’re buckled up he reaches for one of the coffee cups and hands it to you. ‘Faris said you like cappuccino.’ 

Your mouth forms a surprised ‘oh’ and you happily wrap your fingers around the cup. ‘Thank you,’ you smile genuinely at him. ‘Caffeine is the way to my heart.’ 

Chan chuckles and starts the car. ‘I’ll remember that.’ 

You take a sip of your coffee and close your eyes when the creamy taste of a perfect cappuccino hits your tongue. 

‘Where did you get this?’ you ask Chan, twisting the cup in your hand to look for a logo or anything that will tell you where it’s from. 

‘It’s self made,’ Chan says, his eyes on the road. ‘Do you like it?’ 

Your eyes widen in surprise and you take another sip, nodding happily. ‘You made it? It's delicious.’ 

‘No, I don’t like coffee, but we have a fancy coffee machine at our dorm. The guys are very particular about their coffee and prefer to make their own.’

‘I guess that will be one pro about you moving in,’ you sigh. ‘So who made it then?’ 

‘If I tell you, will you tell them thank you?’ 

You look at Chan with narrowed eyes, taking notice of the grin on his face. 

‘It’s Minho isn’t it?’ 

‘Yes, he’s the coffee king in our dorm.’ 

‘Damnit,’ you mutter. 

Chan laughs and you can’t help but smile. His laugh is adorable and you notice he giggles a lot too. It doesn’t fit his bad boy image, but you like it. 

‘So, will you?’ Chan asks, looking at you. 

‘Thank him? Hmm probably not.’ 

‘Why not?’ 

You snort. ‘He’s a brat.’ 

‘He says the same thing about you,’ Chan smiles. 

‘Of course he does,’ you roll your eyes and take another sip of your coffee. ‘He’s lucky he makes good coffee.’ 

‘He’s also a really good dancer.’ 

‘And you’re not just saying this cause you’re biased?’ 

Chan laughs again and damnit you could get used to that sound. ‘I probably am, but both Minho and Hyunjin danced professionally before they joined the program. Minho has even toured before.’ 

You blink at that piece of information and purse your lips. He must be good if he toured with an idol before, they don’t just hire anybody. 

‘What about Felix?’ you ask, steering the conversation away from Minho. 

‘He mostly danced for fun, but took a preference to martial arts. He’s very flexible and I’ve been told he picks up choreography crazy fast.’ 

All of this makes you very curious to see the three of them in action in a bit and a small part of you secretly hopes that they’re not as good as Chan and Yoona say, because if they are, it gives you one less reason to dislike them and you’re not ready to make friends with either of the men that are rooting up your privacy. 

During the rest of the ride you stay silent, looking out of the window and humming along with the music Chan puts on. He doesn’t push you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Chan seems great and you’re sure that in time you’ll get along splendidly, but for now you simply refuse to make too much of an effort and if that makes you the brat Minho thinks you are, so be it. 

The company building looms up before you and you quickly finish up your coffee as Chan maneuvers the car into the parking garage. As soon as the car stands still, you open the door and jump out, not waiting for Chan. 

‘Y/N!’ Chan calls out after you. ‘Wait up!’ 

You ignore him and press the button for the elevator, tapping your foot as you wait for the doors to open. Luck isn’t on your side and it doesn’t take long before footsteps sound behind you. Gritting your teeth in annoyance, you turn around to face Chan while trying to decide if you should apologize for running or not. 

Your eyes widen when you’re not met with Chan’s face. 

‘I knew you’d be a runner,’ Seungmin says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed to be proven right. 

Before you can argue, Chan appears beside him, frowning and holding your water bottle in his hands. Shit. The look on Chan’s face actually makes you feel guilty for running out on him like that.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. ‘I–’

‘Are you though?’ Seungmin interrupts you, crossing his arms. 

You glare at him. ‘I am actually, stop being a–’ 

‘A little brat like you?’ a new voice pipes up. ‘That’s impossible.’ 

Minho. Of course. 

You roll your eyes at him and turn to face the elevator again. ‘Please, I just walked to the elevator without Chan, if that makes me a brat, it makes you a bit of a drama queen don’t you think.’ 

A hand grabs your wrist and pulls so you have to turn around. 

‘I don’t,’ Minho glowers at you. ‘We are here for a reason and you better start to accept it soon or one of these days something will actually happen.’ 

‘Min,’ Chan puts his hand on Minho’s shoulder. ‘Let’s all calm down here.’ 

The elevator doors finally open and you pull your wrist out of Minho’s grip and get inside, pushing the button for the second floor. 

‘Yes, calm your ass down, nothing happened,’ you mumble in their direction. ‘I was without Chan for about ten seconds.’ 

‘That’s all it can take,’ Seungmin says, standing beside you. 

Chan gives you a pleading look as if to say ‘please don’t fight this.’ 

You hold up your hands in surrender, but you don’t say anything. The tension in the elevator is thick and you're glad it’s only a short ride up. Minho leaves without saying anything else and you’re already dreading dance training later. 

‘Come on,’ Chan says, gently placing his hand on your back and pushing you in the direction of your studio. ‘I think we need to have a proper talk.’ 

Seungmin follows and you can’t help but throw him an annoyed look over your shoulder. He just rolls his eyes at you and you grit your teeth, looking ahead again. You might try with Chan and Jisung, but Seungmin and Minho could bite your ass. 

‘Here,’ Chan says, handing you your water bottle. ‘You left this when you jumped out in a hurry.’ 

You open your mouth to apologize, but Chan shakes his head and gives you a sad smile. ‘No need to apologize when you don’t really mean it. I’ll earn your trust eventually.’ 

God damnit, why does this man need to have such adorable puppy eyes and cute dimples you want to poke with your finger. 

'Good morning!' Jisung greets you with a grin when you step into his office. He’s behind his desk that’s littered with papers, two cups of coffee and an empty bowl that probably held ramen if you guessed the smell that lingers in the room correctly. ‘How are we feeling today?’ 

‘She already ran away from Channie Hyung,’ Seungmin says as he drops down on the couch. 

You groan in annoyance. ‘I don’t think you can count walking ahead to the elevator as running away, but okay.’ 

‘You still should have waited for me,’ Chan says, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. ‘I don’t care that we’re inside your company, you need to stick close to at least one of us at all times.’ 

‘Okay,’ Jisung claps his hands. ‘I see you’re all feeling fine on this beautiful morning, but I haven’t had enough coffee yet for arguing.’ 

‘Preach,’ you mumble, sharing a grin with your new assistant. 

‘You had two coffees already,’ Chan frowns, eying the two cups on the desk. 

‘One actually, the other one was Minho’s,’ Jisung says and he chuckles when you pull a face at his name. ‘How about we all take a little time to wake up some more. Maybe you guys can get us some more coffee while I talk with Y/N here about some of the rules we came up with?’ 

‘Rules? Jisung, come on, I thought you were on my side here,’ you sigh, pouting at him. ‘I’m not a child, you don’t have to give me rules.’ 

‘Apparently we do,’ Seungmin says. 

‘You’re really getting on my nerves here, buddy,’ you glower at him. ‘If anything it’s behaviour like yours and Minho’s that sets me off, so how about I give you some rules of my own huh?’ 

Seungmin snorts and cocks his head. ‘You have no say in this, missy, you’re not our boss.’ 

Jisung quickly grabs your arm when you’re about to jump forward. 

‘Minnie, get the fuck out of here,’ Jisung says, pointing to the door with a serious look on his face. ‘You’re not helping.’ 

‘Yeah, minnie,’ you grin. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.’ 

Seungmin just laughs and stands up, holding your gaze. ‘Sure thing, but remember that I’ll be watching you closely, little fly.’ 

‘Seungmin,’ Chan’s voice sounds stern and you grin at him, waving sweetly. 

‘Bye now.’ 

‘You know you’re not helping, right?’ Jisung chuckles, letting go of your arm as Seungmin and Chan disappear into the hallway. 

‘I know, he just brings out the worst in me I guess,’ you admit with a grimace. ‘You might have already gathered this, but I don’t really like to be told what to do and I’m very stubborn.’ 

‘You don’t say,’ Jisung gasps, acting like he’s surprised. 

‘Oh shut up,’ you laugh. ‘You would be too when you’re a famous idol with no real say about basically anything you do. I can’t really act out about it, because I chose to be here and I’m grateful about it too, but sometimes it just gets too much you know. I guess you guys are just an easy target for me to lash out at, at the moment.’ You blink when you realize what you just told him and clear your throat. ‘I didn’t mean to drop that on you, sorry.’ 

‘Don’t be,’ Jisung says, grabbing your hand and giving it a little squeeze. ‘I’m glad you did. I can’t even imagine the pressure you must be under constantly and us coming in after what I think is a pretty scary moment in your life, probably doesn’t help.’ 

‘Not really, but maybe Minho was right and I should be a bit more grateful, at least towards my company, that they care enough about me to hire a shit load of bodyguards.’

‘Maybe,’ Jisung smiles. 

‘If you tell Minho I said that, I will kick your ass,’ you threaten. ‘I’m nowhere near ready to be nice to him.’ 

Jisung laughs and holds up his hands. ‘My lips are sealed, I’m just glad you’ve seemed to accept me at least.’ 

‘You’re very easy to like,’ you shrug. ‘And maybe it helps that you also pose as my assistant, so it feels less like you’re watching my every move.’ 

Jisung hums. ‘Maybe, but I’ll be with you just as much, if not more.’ 

For some reason that thought doesn’t bother you as much and you sigh, leaning against the desk. ‘Well, since I like you right now, let me apologize in advance for when I’m in a mood. Caffeine and food usually helps though.’

‘Good to know, are you ready to go over some of our rules now?’ 

‘What if I say no?’ 

Jisung chuckles. ‘I’ll email them to you, print them out and hang them all over your studio and I’ll keep texting you until you read it anyway.’ 

While you only just met him yesterday, you somehow know he would actually do all that. 

‘Fine, tell me.’ 

‘It’s pretty simple actually. You’re not to go anywhere with at least one of us present, even inside the company.’ 

You make a face, but don’t interrupt as Jisung continues. 

‘If you need to go to the bathroom we won’t go in with you obviously, but other than that you shouldn’t be alone unless it’s in the comfort of your own bedroom of course. If you want to go out, just tell us in advance so we can scout the area if needed and make sure there’s enough security. When you want to go somewhere with Felix, Hyunjin or Minho, someone else still needs to go with you so your fans will know you always have a bodyguard.’

‘I’m sorry, I know I’ve asked this a million times already, but is this really necessary? You talk like I’m a fucking royal in line for the throne.’ 

Jisung shrugs. ‘Until Chan and Yoona feel the threats against you are down and there are no more assaults, yes we do think it’s necessary. I know it seems excessive, but trust me that you’re not the only idol who gained a team of bodyguards.’ 

Somehow that thought hasn’t even crossed your mind. It makes sense though, with the increase of accidents and violence against idols, especially the girl groups and solo artists. It’s insane really and it makes you sad to live in a world where people think it’s okay to act like this. 

‘I didn’t know that. I really need more friends in this idol world,’ you mutter, looking down at your hands. 

Sure you met other idols before and while you get along great with a few, they were all in groups and you always feel like the odd one out when you hang out with them. 

Chan comes back inside then, carrying two coffee cups and a brown bag. ‘I come bearing treats.’ 

You share a look with Jisung. ‘Bribing me with caffeine and food, huh I see how it is,’ you joke, remembering what you told Jisung earlier and loving how Chan’s lips immediately turn up in a smile. 

‘Don’t tell me you’re that easy,’ Jisung laughs next to you, poking your side. 

‘Yah!’ you squeak out. 

Jisung’s eyes sparkle. ‘Are you ticklish?’ 

‘No.’ your eyes widen. ‘You just startled me.’ 

No way are you going to let him know this weakness of yours. Besides, you can get crazy violent when someone won’t stop tickling you. You once kicked your uncle in the face when you couldn’t breathe anymore from laughing. 

‘Mhm, sure,’ Jisung grins, but he doesn’t try again and turns to Chan to grab the coffee. ‘Thanks Hyung.’ 

After your second coffee, Chan comes with you to your studio and you spend the rest of the morning working on your new songs with your headphones on. Occasionally you glance up to look at Chan, but never meet his gaze as he quietly works on his laptop. 

At first it goes well, you’re in a nice flow and happy with the results, but then you get to the song you’ve been struggling with for over a month already. There’s something missing, there must be, but you just can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. 

‘Ugghh,’ you let out a frustrated groan when you listen to it again, letting your head drop to the desk with a loud thud. 

There’s a headache developing behind your eyes and you blindly reach for your water bottle. Your fingertips touch the bottle, but it’s too far away to actually reach it. With another groan you lift your head and stretch your arm a little further. 

‘You doing okay over there?’ Chan asks from his spot on the couch, his voice sounding far away thanks to your headphones. 

‘Peachy,’ you reply, pulling the bottle towards you with a victorious smile. 

You pull your headphones down to hang around your neck, chug some water and then turn your chair to look at Chan properly. He’s already looking at you, a frown on his face and you can basically taste his disapproval. 

‘Don’t even try and lecture me on working this long without breaks and for not having proper light, I know this headache is my own fault,’ you say before he can even open his mouth to scold you like Faris usually would. 

He blinks in surprise, but then he lets out a laugh and nods. 

‘Alright, I won’t say anything, but do you want to tell me what’s troubling you?’ 

It’s your turn to blink at him now. ‘Huh?’ you let out dumbly. 

Chan laughs again and gets up from the couch, putting his laptop aside. He pulls out the second chair at your desk and sits down next to you, his head tipping towards your computer. 

‘You’re obviously struggling with something. Is it lyrics? The beat?’ 

Your first instinct is to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own business, but he’s looking at you so sincerely that you can’t help but sag your shoulders and give in. 

‘I’m not sure actually, that’s the problem,’ you admit, debating if you want to play the song for him or not. Faris did tell you that Chan, Jisung and Changbin used to make music. Fuck it. You’re going crazy if you don’t fix this anytime soon. ‘Would you like to hear it?’ 

The surprise is clear on Chan’s face, but he nods immediately and holds out his hands for your headphones. Nervous butterflies twirl in your stomach and with a deep breath you hand them to him before you can change your mind. He puts them on and gives you an encouraging smile. 

Biting your lip you press play and watch as his eyes widen when the music starts. It's a catchy beat and you can’t help but smile when his head starts to bop up and down. His face doesn’t give anything away and you nervously play with the bracelets around your wrist as you wait for him to finish. 

‘Wow,’ Chan says, putting the headphones down. ‘I knew you were good, but this..’ he shakes his head with a smile. ‘It’s really good Y/N, like really really good.’ 

You feel your cheeks heating up at his praise. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘I think I know what you mean though,’ Chan says and he points at your laptop. ‘May I?’ 

You frown and look between him and your precious laptop that holds all your hard work. 

‘I think it’s a very easy fix with the beat in the bridge,’ Chan smiles. ‘You can do it yourself, I just want to point out where I think it is.’ 

It’s clear to you he knows what he’s talking about and you’re curious to find out which part he means. You slowly push your laptop over to him and get rewarded with a wide grin. For the next hour the two of you work on the bridge, editing and adjusting the melody. Your cheeks hurt from smiling when the song keeps sounding better with every adjustment you make. 

‘You could be a producer,’ you tease, when Chan offers another idea to add to the song. 

A knock on the door causes the two of you to look up and you don’t know why, but you feel like a kid getting caught stealing candy. It’s not like Chan isn’t allowed to help you, but it hits you then what you’re doing and your body tenses anyways. 

‘Hyung? Noona?’ a deep voice calls out that you immediately recognize as Felix. 

‘Come in,’ you yell, quickly saving the progress of your song and closing your laptop. 

The door opens and Felix sticks his head inside, grinning when he sees you and Chan huddled together at your desk. You quickly jump up, causing both men to laugh at the panicked look on your face. 

‘No worries, I won’t tell Yoona or Minho you’re warming up to Channie Hyung,’ Felix smiles. 

‘That’s not it,’ you blush, turning around to grab your bag and water bottle. ‘I’m late for practice aren’t I?’ 

Felix nods. ‘Minho sent me to get you.’ 

You growl at the sound of his name and Chan snickers, standing up as well. ‘I’ll walk with you and get you some food seeing as you haven’t eaten anything since this morning.’ 

‘You don’t have to, I don’t think I can eat much before dancing anyways or I’ll feel sick.’ 

‘I have a banana in my bag if you want,’ Felix offers, rummaging around in his bag and holding up the yellow fruit for you. 

‘Perfect, thank you Felix,’ you smile, accepting the banana. You turn to Chan as you start to peel it. ‘I promise I’ll eat a proper meal after practice. You should have lunch, I’ll be fine with Felix here, right?’ 

You bite off the tip of the banana as you look at Felix and the blonde nods, his eyes flicking to your mouth for a moment before he blushes and looks at Chan. 

‘We’ll be fine Channie,’ he agrees with you. ‘It’s one floor down and Minho and Jin are already there warming up with the others.’ 

‘Alright, just keep an eye on Minho. These two are likely to bite each other's heads off,’ Chan sighs, patting Felix’s shoulder. 

You snort and take another bite of your banana. 

‘I’ll bite something else if he isn’t careful.’

a/n: I wanted to add dance practise to this chapter, but it already got way longer than I planned so next chapter it is ;) I really hope you still like it, even if it might move a little slow -i guess thats slow burn and a multi chaptered fic tho- big smooch to you all <3 taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[archives-of-a-hidden-writer]

Something Else Entirely

Thanos / Choi Su-Bong X Nonchalant!Cold!Reader

》Typing... |

》 [Entry No.005 - Something Else Entirely]|

》 Loading Archive Entry "Something Else Entirely" |

》 Location of Entry: Archivial's |

》 Notice: Entry Continuation of Archive Entry No.003

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》 Summary: Where, somehow, Thanos kept choosing you over his others without hesitation more often in the 3rd game, which led to confusion and feelings to be said. |

》 Warnings: SPOILERS TO EPISODE 5 / GAME 2 AND 3, Change of story(Both during possibly after the entry), Reader is player '457', Thanos chose to recruit you instead of Se-mi and Min-su in the 2nd game, Blood, Violence, Mentions of Drug Use, Spilled Confession(He screamed it out), Shouting, Swearing, slight not-so nsfw(PDA), Reader chose 'x' twice. |

》 Archive Entry Loaded ◇

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The next day in this damned place seemed to have passed by quickly as you and other players were now being transferred and walked towards the second game. Of course, this meant yesterday's voting system ended with continuing to the second game.

You knew everyone here had decided to play the games due to their debts, but unlike them, you didn't have that much debt in you to surpass the millions like the, but you dislike the thought of spending your hard-earned money on debts you barely even recall now. So the rounded-up cash after the first round was closely enough for you, making you choose to leave the games immediately.

But, of course, that didn't happen as you all entered a new room you deciphered as where the 2nd game would occur.

As the doors you all entered from closed, the first instruction was announced. To find a team in groups of 5.

Being the unphased person you are, you just waited for someone to ask you if you can join their team. As everyone scrambled to find people to join them, you walked around the area, awaiting for someone to ask you to join them.

Of course, that happened as someone shouted your number.

"457!" A voice called out from behind. You turned to see player 230, giving you a wave. You raised an eyebrow and asked, "Want me to join you guys?" You said, turning your full body torwards them.

Player 230 nodded with a big smile, clearly ignoring the 'x' patch on your jacket. "Sure is, do you know who I am?" He replied, pointing at himself as he asked the question. You raised your eyebrow again at this, "The infamous rapper, Thanos?" You answered, earning a thumbs up from Thanos and his two friends before freestyle rapping who he was.

After that, he asked for your name, in which you gave him a nickname instead, not wanting to give out anything that much yet. He then patted my shoulder and winked at me. "Don't worry, baby. I'll protect you," he said, giving me a finger heart. I just scoffed at his action, turning away as I noticed there were only four members. But soon after that, one of Thanos' friends found another player to join.

The announcer later spoke, telling everyone about the 2nd game's mechanic, the six-legged pentathlon. The mini-games given were said out, and you looked over to your teammates as they listened before settling on who would play which game. Luckily for them, you played gonggi in the past, so that game is yours to play once your team is up.

"Okay, you good with gonggi?" Player 124, which you now know as Nam-gyu, asked, earning a nod from you. They then started picking out their own games to choose and play later.

■■■

"Goddammit, a lot of people survived," Nam-gyu groaned as we noticed another batch of players enter the room again. All five of you finished the 2nd game, now waiting for every player to either lose or win.

You hummed in return as the thought last group entered the dormitory. You leaned back into the bunk's metal stands, deep in thought. However, it was soon diminished by Thanos slinging an arm across your shoulders.

He said your nickname and praised you for your game earlier, "You did amazing there!" Thanos exclaimed before imitating how you did in the 2nd game.

Soon, the 2nd game came to an end as the pink guards entered the room once more to announce the new amount.

You looked up at the piggy bank in the ceiling before darting back onto the screen above the pink guards, the price of money doubling its amount. To you, it was far more than enough for you.

■■■

"457, just one more round, 'kay?" Nam-gyu said, shaking you by your shoulders as he spoke. He took notice of the red patch, but you pushed him off, your mind had already decided from the start.

Thanos, of course, noticed this and stood between you and Nam-gyu, earning a confused look from Nam-gyu, but deciding on shrugging it off as Thanos being high on his ass again.

But little by little, you've noticed how close Thanos was to you, even back at the 2nd game, he sat close to you, and even during the games, he attempted to have a hand on you from behind.

You, at first, thought of it as him on his drugs, but soon, you started thinking otherwise. And those thoughts continued further as he seemingly blocked you off from Nam-gyu's persuasions despite wanting the same thing.

The voting commenced with player 001 being the first to vote, who chose 'x' this time around. Other players were soon called one-by-one.

As it continues around the halfway mark, player 001 suddenly disrupts the players, causing a scene throughout players that inevitably pushes players to play one more round, adding things like the games are for kids and it's that easy.

You just groaned at this scene, knowing well it will not end well for those who chose 'x'.

■■■

"... Shit..." you cursed out as you pressed 'x' with the voting barely reaching the 'o', making the games continue once again.

Of course, those who chose 'o' cheered in joy, including Nam-gyu. Meanwhile, Thanos slightly frowned, you still chose to choose to leave the game already. Knowing his gaze as well as Nam-gyu's, you decide to instead join those who also chose 'x'.

Meanwhile, on Thanos' side, Nam-gyu cursed at you as they watched you enter the bunks of the 'x's.

"... That bitch," Nam-gyu said, somehow earning a back slap from Thanos, "Oi, don't talk to them like that..." Thanos replied to him, yet still slightly upset how you didn't choose the same as them. Nam-gyu gave another look of confusion towards Thanos, he thinks he was acting a lot stranger than before, even if the excuse or reason was the drugs, it was still a little too out of character of him to act this way towards another player.

As you all do your things, the announcer sounds in to say night's out in half an hour, cue players to go, or find a relatively good bed in the bunks to sleep in.

You found a relatively good one in the middle, not too close to the middle but not too close to the walls as well as it was right next to one of the staircases in the bunks.

Soon, the lights started to dim, with players starting to cosy up under the covers of their bunks. You, as well, cosy up under the covers and sleep, escaping the world for a little while.

■■■

Later on, you stirred for a moment as you hear footsteps towards you. You were close to the stairs, so that's that, but you couldn't help but feel like the person was coming towards you.

And then, you heard someone call your nickname, "Oi, baby, you awake?" You recognised the voice as Thanos. You groaned at him in return, "I am now, thank you very much," You retorted as you turned away from him, "Leave me alone, I know you wanted something because I chose 'x'..." You added, noticing how he always screamed for 'o' in the votes.

He scoffed at that, if only you could see the smitten look on his face as he shook his head, "Not about that, but why did you leave our group, huh?" He asked, lightly shaking your shoulder, you groaned again and yanked his hand off.

"Really? An 'x' with four 'o's, you fucking high right now? And get back to you bunk, they might notice and eliminate your drugged ass," you retorted, slightly turning towards him before you noticed him moving towards the bed above yours and looking back at you, "There, better?" He asked, elbows propping him up as he placed his head on his palms. He was lucky with the darkness hiding the smitten look on him.

You scoffed at him before attempting to go back to sleep.

As you do so, Thanos kept looking at you. Sure, he may be getting questions from his friends the next day, but did he care? Something about you kept pulling him back to you, not like what he felt towards the dead 196. No, it was entirely different. Like the drugs he took, something he can't fully get away from, but unlike the drugs, it was something he would be unable to let go of.

■■■

The next day came by, and you awoke to see Thanos who actually slept on the bunk above yours. Damn, you thought to yourself, thinking whether this man has something towards you or he'd just like this towards new friends.

The time went by, and now you and the rest are being walked to the 3rd game with Thanos, of course, tailing behind you. Again, you were weirded out by this as his friends were somewhere else in the lines.

As you all entered the new place, a large area with 50 rooms surrounding it with a higher platform in the middle.

The 3rd game is about to begin.

■■■

"Going to leave us again, boss?" Nam-gyu called out to Thanos, approaching the purple-haired man. Two rounds in, Nam-gyu took notice of how Thanos' first instinct after each round was to find you as you always try and find other groups than theirs.

Thanos ignored Nam-gyu and continued to look for you. Then he did. He immediately bearhugged you and ruffled your hair.

He cheered your name, saying how glad he was that you're alive like him. You replied his actions by a pat of the back, continuing to be weirded out by the noticable difference in dynamics between how he acts around you and his friends.

Soon, the carousel started to slowly spin again, along with the same music to sang out.

"3!" The announcer said. The player then started to find players to complete the said amount. You immediately got into one and ran towards one of the rooms, not noticing Thanos calling for you. With that, Thanos kicked one of his friends out before screaming towards one of the rooms.

The half a minute timer came to an end, followed by rounds of shots and screams of those who didn't manage to get into a room.

■■■

"Fucking hell..." You cursed out, after another round, the players remained decreased as the 6th round of the game commenced, the platform below spinned slowly.

You were already exhausted from all the adrenaline and running from the previous rounds and games. You hoped this was the final round.

Meanwhile, Thanos kept a close eye on you, blatantly ignoring Nam-gyu once more, not wanting to hear another avertion coming from his friend. Of course, he noticed your exhaustion, and deep down is concerned. Even under all those drugs, he had a concern for you.

"2!" The announcer said, earning you mentally cursing at it. 50 rooms and over 100 players. If you won't die due to not being able to find a partner, then you might as well be eliminated for the inability to secure a room.

About to give out, you felt someone tug on you by the wrist and pull you out of the platform, followed by Nam-gyu's voice screaming out for Thanos. You looked to see the man, Thanos, holding your wrist as you both ran towards the rooms.

"The fuck- Hey!" You called out, but it was unheard as other players ran to get into their own rooms.

"What the fuck-!?" You cursed out, trying to free your wrist as you both entered one of the rooms. He finally lets go of you, "The hell is really wrong with you?!" You cursed out, "You've acting weird this entire time. The hell are you on 'cause that's not drugs," you added, extremely confused and weirded out by his actions. He remained silent. Only the sounds of players outside could be heard.

He mustered something but you couldn't quite hear it, "What was that?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, I said what-" "Because I love you for fuck's sake!" Thanos let out, grabbing your shoulders and shaking, "God, every since! Just... Something in you are different, and it makes me insane!" He said.

Like the drugs he took, something he can't fully get away from, but unlike the drugs, it was something he would be unable to let go of.

You stared at him in slight shock, "What...?" You asked, wondering if you heard that right.

"Dammit, I fucking love you, alright? You're fucking intoxicating," he replied, lowering his head as if ashamed of the words that spilled his mouth.

Finally understanding his words, you tapped his cheek, making him look back at you before giving a small smile at him.

Forgetting the world around us, the door unlocked as the game finished. Slightly relieved at this, you looked back at Thanos before giving him a peck on the lips, ignoring the slight tang of iron from the blood that splattered on his face from previous games.

You exited the room after that, leaving the jaw-dropped man in the room as you attempted to blend back in the remaining players.

■■■

As your entered the dormitory once again, you felt someone tackle you once more, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he pulled you close.

"You shouldn't have left me like that, baby!" He whined, pulling you towards his original place in the bunks on the other side. You slightly felt a bit out of place considering your patch and the players surrounding you, but Thanos soon pushed those feelings away as he proudly exclaimed you at his friends, earning glances at Nam-gyu that speaks "So that's why he was acting like that," before nodding.

Soon, another voting would commence, but now getting close to Thanos, you wondered if you could continue this without him dying because of another game.

Now you have another reason to leave the games entirely.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

》 Archiver's Notes: As the winner of the voting log with no more than 2% more than another option, a continuation entry is done for the chaotic purple-haired man, Thanos.

[gerlionrise]

A Game Within the Game  

001 x Reader Synopsis: In the deadly games where survival is the only rule, an unlikely bond forms between two players—one seemingly fragile and unassuming, the other strong-willed and determined. Amid the chaos, whispers of hidden alliances and unseen protections weave a tale of obsession, power, and unspoken truths. As danger looms at every corner, the line between trust and manipulation blurs, leaving one question: how far would someone go to protect what they desire most?

The eerie hum of the Squid Game facility never truly settled, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above as though mimicking the anxiety thrumming through the players. Every step, every breath was laced with uncertainty. But for you, there was one constant—a pair of watchful eyes.  

From the moment the games began, 001 stood out to you. His demeanor was different. Calm, collected, and always one step ahead, he carried himself with an authority that no one else seemed to notice. You’d felt his presence everywhere: a steady hand during the chaos, a voice of reason amidst the panic, and a protector in ways that no one else dared to be.  

---

The tension within the games had been escalating with each passing day. The players had grown desperate, alliances crumbling as the stakes rose higher. But for you, something felt different—subtler. A shadow loomed over you, not from the games themselves but from someone among the players.  

It began with whispers, fleeting glances from one of the players—a wiry man with sharp eyes and an unsettling smirk. His demeanor toward you was always off, his gaze lingering just a moment too long, his words dripping with something unspoken.  

“Watch yourself,” 001 had murmured to you the day before, his voice low and cautious as you stood in the corner of the dormitory.  

“Why?” you asked, studying him carefully.  

“There are those who see you as more than just competition,” he said. “They see you as a threat.”   ---

The tension in the air was palpable as the next game was announced. It was another test of trust, pairing players to navigate a labyrinth filled with hidden traps. Your partner, the same wiry man with shifty eyes, seemed eager, but his energy felt wrong—too forceful, too deliberate.  

“You and me,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll make it to the end, no question.”  

You had no choice but to trust him, though his enthusiasm put you on edge. The guards herded everyone into the maze, their cold, impassive stares sending shivers down your spine.  

As the game began, your partner took the lead, moving erratically, almost as if he wanted you to falter.  

“Watch your step,” he snapped as you hesitated.  

The words seemed like concern, but his tone carried an edge, sharp enough to make you wary.  

---

From the sidelines, 001 observed the scene with practiced calm. His eyes missed nothing. Every misstep, every sideways glance from your partner, was noted. He had suspected the man’s intentions from the start. He played a dirty game.

Without drawing attention, he shifted closer to the masked guards stationed nearby. Despite the façade he wore as an ordinary player, his authority in the games was absolute. A single, subtle nod was all it took for the guards to spring into action.   ---

The labyrinth echoed with shouts as the alarms blared unexpectedly. A voice over the intercom declared an emergency pause in the game.  

“Return to the dormitory immediately,” the voice ordered.  

Confusion rippled through the players as they were escorted out of the maze. Your partner clung to his facade, but his eyes darted nervously toward the guards.  

Once the players were safely back in the dormitory, the guards surrounded him. Without ceremony, they hauled him to his knees, ignoring his protests.  

“I didn’t do anything! You’re making a mistake!” he shouted, his voice cracking with fear.  

His words fell on deaf ears. The guards dragged him away, and though no explanation was given, the tension in the room eased slightly once he was gone.  

---

Later that night, you sat on your bunk, replaying the day’s events. Something about your partner’s behavior had felt wrong from the beginning, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had intervened on your behalf.  

Across the room, 001 sat quietly, his hands resting on his knees as he gazed into the distance. His presence was steady, calming, but something about the way he looked at you made your pulse quicken.  

“You handled yourself well today,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.  

Your gaze snapped to his, startled by the unexpected compliment. “What do you mean?”  

“You didn’t let fear control you,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s rare in a place like this.”  

Something in his tone felt weighted, as though he knew far more than he let on. But before you could question him further, he leaned back, closing his eyes as if to rest.  

---

Over the next few days, you began to notice strange things. The guards seemed to linger near you more often, their silent presence a shield against unseen threats. During meals, your food was always served first, untouched and pristine. In the games, traps that should have been deadly seemed to miss you entirely.  

You weren’t the only one who noticed. Whispers circulated among the players, theories forming about why you seemed untouchable. Some believed it was luck, others thought it was favoritism. But no one dared to confront you directly.   --- One evening, as the dormitory settled into uneasy quiet, you found yourself beside 001 once more. He was playing with a few marbles, rolling them between his fingers with an absentminded ease.  

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence.

The question caught you off guard. “I’m not sure,” you admitted cautiously. “Why?”  

His gaze met yours, piercing and unrelenting. “Because some things happen for a reason, whether we see it or not. Like you being here, alive.”  

There was something unspoken in his words, a quiet confession buried beneath layers of ambiguity. But before you could unravel it, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.  

“Be careful,” he murmured. “Not everyone in this place has your best interests at heart.”  

---

You didn’t know it, but 001’s orders had ensured your survival at every turn. The guards, bound to his silent commands, moved with precision, eliminating threats before they could touch you.  

To the other players, he was nothing more than just another man trying to get money, harmless and unassuming. But to you, his presence became a constant comfort, a silent promise that, no matter what, you would not face this nightmare alone.  

And though you couldn’t see the web of protection he wove around you, you felt its effects in every subtle glance, every unexpected reprieve. In the chaos of the games, his obsession became your salvation. Author's note: Never watched Squid Games but I do know something about this show, this story is based on edits I saw on TikTok. If you have any requests - let me know!

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I just imagined if batchild who favored Tim being Bruce bio-child. Damian so jealous and angry because his blood sibling chose Drake over him? This is too personal. Poor Tim will not have peace. I can imagine Damian trying to prove himself to his little sibling.

But the question is, does Damian even really give a flying fuck about this kid? Or does he just hate Tim and wants to destroy any ounce of happiness this boy has? Questions. Questions. Questions. lol.

Idk I love Damian being a little shit,,, he's something a little silly

Yes, Damian will terrorize Tim over this. He has such bad emotional regulation and he doesn't fully understand why he's so angry. He doesn't particularly like children and all their crying and babbling..they're stupid and useless...

But it peeves him so much seeing Tim take on such a prominent older brother role in their life. Tim is tainting the kid, he's not teaching them properly. A child should be held this way, it should be taught this, you need to do this. That is what his mother did to ensure his proper development so it must be right!

I can just imagine Damian cringing at all the baby talk and stupid games Tim plays with them. At first he's such a hate watcher of them. He'll be in the corner of the room, glaring daggers into them. "hmph they're perfect for each other. Dumb and even dumber. Guess which is which..." He snickers in his mind

Then he resorts to insulting Tim and micro-managing him. His baby siblings doesn't need to play with rattles, they need to be doing more intensive activities....Ughh.. They're being so stunned right now.

Then...slowly when no one is watching, he might speak to it. He doesn't get down on the floor with his sibling, he's just looking down at 'em and low-key shit talking. They piss him off so much but still he's at a lost for why?? Why does he seem to care about them and their upbringing so much when he hates them?

It isn't until Tim leaves for a mission or something when Damian *attempts* to hold and play with batchild. The child just looked so pitiful that he felt compelled to entertain them. Batchild starts to unexpectedly grow on him...eventually he starts kind of...loving them...? He feels warm when they smile at him...and an intense passion to protect them...

He's shy about it but Damian is obsessed with that damn baby. He won't try to draw attention to it but that is his baby now.

He can't help but to feel so possessive over them too, he'll cross his arms and huff when someone picks them up...he's stealing them back after five minutess...

But here's where the issue arises, Damian finally is feeling super close with batchild and has created this secret bond that no one else understands. He's done this oath with them in a pillow fort and everything, he's confidently believes that he's the new favorite sibling.

"Okay, Now we will drink this grape juice as we are solidified as true bloods of the Wayne bloodline..."

*intense babbles and clapping*

"Yes, our superior lineage is something to celebrate."

But then Tim comes back and batchild completely forgets about Damian and rushes to Tim. Even refusing to be held by Damian later on. His heart is crushed and to him this is the ultimate betrayal.

If Tim didn't have peace before, he really won't have it now. Like Damian wants to duel over this, it's that serious to him.

The pure venom that Damian spews is so fucked up that I cannot even repeat it. Like Tim is worried for his safety at this point.

Damien would definitely steal batchild out of their crib at night and take them into one of the unused rooms in another wing of the manor. It's fully decorated with tons of things batchild loves, all necessities...even has tons of snacks and a fridge with goodies. Damian is fully prepared to be the sole provider for this baby. lmaoo. He's hiding this kid out there for a good couple of hours before everyone realizes where the two of them are.

Damian is fighting hard to keep from them taking batchild...but is defeated when batchild sees Tim and goes

"Timmy!!" and tries running to him. It's so hilarious. Damian is at his wits end. He's never going to stop though until he's number one. Even if "Timmy" has to go.

Dami is the most un-serious-serious person on the planet.

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Neve (and Tevinter) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Taash to be added tomorrow (or on Monday Jan 5th)

About Neve:

General:

Neve isn’t rich, and her best coat is a gift from a grateful tailor after she saved his warehouse from an arsonist

Neve’s coat is woven with enchantments to resist fire and lighting 

Neve has never done blood magic. She is against it on principle and judges those who use it 

Neve doesn’t seem to like entertaining extreme hypotheticals since she reacts to Harding’s questions like “What would you take with you to a deserted island?” with asking why she would end up in such situations in the first place 

Neve wouldn’t want gems on her leg, because she thinks they would get stolen within a day of working in Minrathous, and she generally prefers to keep a low profile while on the job

However, she still considers saving up for a new, fancier leg to have more fashion choices. She likes Taash’s idea of getting a ruby inlay for it

Neve never visited Rivain before joining the Veilguard, though she now finds its beaches charming

Ever since she was a baby, Neve was stubborn and asked too many questions (and hated unanswered questions as well)

Neve likes Qunari food but thinks it’s very spicy

Neve likes seafood 

Neve doesn't drink tea

Neve isn’t really close with her family

Neve once tried to use a wisp-repelling artefact the Veil Jumpers found to get rid of the wisps in her room, but it only attracted wisps from the entire Lighthouse

Neve isn’t interested in exploring the mysteries of the Lighthouse because she has enough mysteries on this side of the Veil

(If Rook chooses to save Minrathous) Neve sends civil engineers to assist in Treviso 

On work: 

Neve didn’t want to be a detective when she was a child (not as if in she didn’t like the idea, she just didn’t consider it), though she didn’t have any dream career either 

Neve got into detective work by picking up odd jobs and building a reputation of being good at finding things. Eventually, she was hired to find someone’s brother, a case nobody else wanted to pick up, and her career took off 

Neve agrees that she is cynical and married to her job, but doesn’t consider herself ‘serious’  

Neve allegedly has a system for sorting her papers (Emmrich and Rana are sceptical about its existence) 

(If Neve becomes Dock Town's protector) Elek is implied to visit the Lighthouse again multiple times. Taash mentions seeing him poking around the library. Neve explained that he thought he could grab some fade-touched items to sell, and told him to run the plan by the Caretaker (one would think they did not approve)

On life in Minrathous: 

Neve was born and raised in Minrathous

Neve has never been inside the Archon’s Palace

(If Neve chooses to become Dock Town’s inspiration) Neve doesn’t regret letting Aelia live because she got information on Venatori out of her, and her death wouldn’t change the past

(If Neve chooses to become Dock Town’s inspiration) Neve gets to take a break for once in her life because Rana keeping an eye on the Dock Town actually helps

(If Neve chooses to become Dock Town’s inspiration) People gossip about Neve and Rana after they start their agency :)

Neve describes the rain of Minrathous as "cold fingers down your neck", but she misses it now that she's away from the city. The sound helps her fall asleep 

Neve’s entire apartment could fit inside villa Dellamorte’s dining room 

One of Tevinter papers referred to Neve as "Dock Town dirt-chaser," and to Emmrich as "sinister foreign necromancer”

A Tevinter paper called The Minrathous Herald once wrote that Neve should be exiled. The same paper called Shadow Dragons “traitors to the Empire” 

Neve never runs out of ink because she's on good terms with Minrathous ink sellers 

There is however one banter where she runs out of ink (I think it was with Davrin). Make of that what you will. 

On the Shadow Dragons: 

Neve didn't know Dorian personally until she joined the Shadow Dragons

Neve figured out the Viper's identity even before joining the Dragons. Her not revealing it to the public is one of the reasons he recruited her

Tarquin calls Neve a pain in the ass 

Relationships with companions: 

Neve calls Manfred ‘Fred’ (he seems to like that)

Manfred learns to say Neve's name (likely only happens if you revive him at the Necropolis, though I am not sure)

Neve introduces Lucanis to a spice shop in Dock Town

Harding describes Neve’s tastes in coffee as “made of gutter water filtered through an old sock”

Lucanis once showed Neve’s coffee to Viago. He found it “unsettling” 

Davrin thinks drinking Neve's coffee is worse than the Joining

Neve spoils Assan (but denies that accusation)

Neve is rather quick to consider questioning corpses with Emmrich’s help for her cases 

Neve is very apprehensive about lichdom and the perspective of Emmrich eventually turning evil (just like Emmrich isn't thrilled about her taking over the Threads for similar reasons)

Lucanis is concerned about Neve taking over the Threads. Mainly, about how much they are paying her

Neve has multiple banters with Taash discussing her relationship with Lucanis. Taash initially thinks of it as some sort of predator-prey dynamic, but Neve says she is not into that and explains that they are taking it slow and cautious. They both went through a lot of pain in their lines, which they tend not to show for different reasons

Neve's relationship with Lucanis is also more than she usually looks for with people

Neve takes Taash to Hal’s fish fry stand. Taash loved it :)

Taash offers Neve help on ladders in case she may need it/it gets stuck on steps due to being hook-shaped, mentioning they knew a Lord of Fortune who lost a hand and whose shoulders hurt while climbing because of it. Neve seems to appreciate the gesture, even though she can handle herself

Neve thinks Taash is nice to work with, offering help without being overbearing like some people are

Neve asks Taash to teach her Gold Thief (a Lord of Fortune dice game), so she can play it with the Shadow Dragons, and then subsequently gets beaten by the Viper

On Tevinter: 

Fashion is important in Tevinter because a good outfit lets people know you are under the protection of someone powerful

There aren’t many mages in Docktown, which is one of the reasons the government doesn’t care about it 

The big red cat near Halos’s stand is named Ferdinand

Stains on clothes can be cleaned with magic

You can get pineapples anywhere in Minrathous 

Neve calls the magic used for the lights in Minrathous a party trick, but Emmrich considers it a high-level enchantment because of its quality and duration

Tevinter doesn’t regulate the charms sold in the market (which is why there are a lot of scammers who sell fakes) 

[gyaruhana]

hii I was js wondering if u cld write some headcannons or a scenario for yandere myung gi (player 333) nothing specificc

Myung-gi/Player 333 - Yandere Headcannons

Synopsis: Headcannons of Myung-gi liking you just a little too much.. (okay, it's way more than a little)

A/N: cute idea i like !!

Warnings: obsessive behavior, yandere content, kidnapping, murder, stalking

➠ Yandere Myung-gi is such a good thought..

➠ Likely watched you from afar at first but not in a stalker-ish way

➠ Moreso he'd stare at you if you were nearby and think about how you are so very pretty

➠ although, to be fair, he did find all your social media profiles when he got home but that was the most of it !!

➠ he only got obsessive when he saw you talking to some guy and felt quite angry

➠ from there he started stalking you to your house, to your job- everywhere just to make sure no one else was pining after you.

➠ if someone was, he'd leave a very ominous message about staying away from you or harm would come to the persons family

➠ Of course, it was all just threats to scare people away.

➠ eventually, he wormed his way into your life with a cute smile and a flushed face

➠ you could never think he was a bad guy because he seemed so cute and genuine when he asked you out

➠ That was a mistake

➠ You agreeing to go out with him made his obsession with you a million times worse

➠ First time he went to your house he may have, or may have not, stolen your underwear and uh.. you could guess what he did with that when he went home.

➠ He just really likes your scent okay !!

➠ In front of you, he's a total sweetheart. Behind your back, he's fucking crazy

➠ the first time he killed someone was when a guy flirted with you after Myung-gi left you alone for just a moment

➠ something in him just snapped that day and that guy who had the audacity to come close to you was now in his room, tied up, and having his fingers cut off one by one

➠ Cut the guys tongue off as well before killing him because he wanted the guy to learn a lesson about daring to talk to his girl like that

➠ from then, he didn't shy away from killing people who even looked at you

➠ you were unaware about what he was up to because he was so very careful when cleaning up

➠ You didn't figure it out until it was far too late and he had you in the palm of his hand

➠ When he finally admits what he's done for you (or you find out and confront him), he's begging you to stay

➠ He'd really rather not hurt you at all

➠ But if you try to leave he's quick to knock you out

➠ absolutely does kidnap you and apologizes over and over again while saying that he's doing it for your own good

➠ overall, very protective and wants you all to himself

"I'm really sorry, baby, but you were trying to leave me," he spoke with an apologetic tone as his thumb gently stroked your cheek. Your hands and legs were bound to a chair as you struggled against it, tears filling your eyes. The sight made Myung-gi's heart ache but he knew this was for your own good. He couldn't let you leave him - not when you were soulmates. "Don't cry.. I'll keep you safe from everyone else,"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

how do you think leona would do if he falls in love?

Here are my thoughts in bullet-point/headcanon form for ease of reading! Key word there being my thoughts. (There will of course be different interpretations based on who you ask this question to.)

Standard disclaimer: These points are nothing more than my opinions and I am NOT saying my opinions are any more or less valid or “correct” than yours. Please, I’m not pre-book 1 Riddle/j It’s fine to have other takes; just remember to be mindful in how you communicate differences in opinion.

To start with, here's how I think Leona would deal with the experience of first love:

Firstly, I definitely feel that Leona is the type of person to not easily fall in love. There are many examples in canon of Leona rejecting the love he receives from others, whether it be from his own family (Cheka, Falena), dorm members (Ruggie, Jack, Savanaclaw mobs, etc.), or other peers. Even though he desires others’ approval and praise, he also simultaneously believes the compliments are insincere or that he may not be deserving or worthy of it, that he hasn’t “earned” it. It’s also difficult for him to be emotionally vulnerable with others, and I feel that this would extend to romantic circumstances.

Continuing from the previous point, I think it’d be a slow burn. Like, the feelings develop gradually and manifest in small but increasingly more forward-facing ways like his gaze lingering for a second or two longer than usual, him getting slightly irritable when he smells (I 100% believe that smell is a Big Thing for beastmen) some other guy on the object of his affections, or simply… his mind wandering to them, maybe in a daydream.

A lot of it is Leona musing about the situation and then being in denial. He’s not so oblivious as to ignore what are clearly blossoming feelings, but he's not so hasty as to act on them right away. He'd sit with those feelings, examine them, question them. What is it that he is experiencing and why, how did things come to this, etc. He may even try to convince himself it's a phase or he's "too good" for this or he's "above" this. Really takes a long time to wrestle with his emotions and to sort them out. And then when he has come to his conclusion, he might not be very pleased with it because (as I said before), he has self-esteem and self-worth issues despite outwardly presenting himself as confident and in-charge.

For a while, he keeps his distance and observes. He’s nothing if not a big cat biding his time, keeping an eye on his prey until—BAM! Down comes his paw, ensnaring the mouse. It's like a game of chess or... cat and mouse. You have to watch your opponent and predict their moves, then plan your own moves two or three or more steps ahead of them. He'd want to gauge if they're already taken, if they seem to express an interest in him too, what they like and dislike, information like that. The last thing Leona'd want to do is charge in, guns blazing, only to be rejected and have his pride hurt.

He may also go out of his way to test the object of his affections by purposefully engineering scenarios to see how they react. At first, it's subtle things that could easily be passed off as coincidence or happenstance. For example, maybe Leona would accidentally bump his shoulder against yours or as he's walking by his tail flicks you. That's just the start though. He'd put more pressure on over time. Like he'd be more confrontational, putting himself in your path as some obstacle to overcome, still being sort of an asshole to see how you handle yourself around him.

Leona tells himself he has the upper hand, and he's usually pretty consistent about hiding his feelings to that end. It might peek through here and there, but they easily read as him being tsundere as per usual. I think that would be his way of coping, because deep down he doesn't want to admit that a part of him is scared to feel this way. It's something else he could fail at, someone else he could frighten away or destroy.

With time, I think he'd become more confident. He has a better grasp of the other person, he's been able to sort out his thoughts. But the thing is, his pride is still a major deterrent. Instead of coming out and saying it, it would become another game. If you've ever read or watched Kaguya-sama: Love is War, it'd be similar to that. Leona would push for the other person to be the one to fall for him and confess first. Part of it is he's kind of afraid to be so emotionally vulnerable, part of it is that he's desperate to be wanted and needed by others, and part of it is that he feels he needs to "earn" that love by winning you over. He wants that sweet, sweet validation from you. He wants YOU to choose HIM.

I think he expects a certain amount of push and pull. If the game's too easy for him, the (psychological) hunt loses some of its thrill. I think he'd also be the type to seek a partner that isn't just a blind yes man (despite him giving off the vibes that he wants to be in total control, especially in his own dormitory); they should be able to keep him on his toes one way or another, and they shouldn't idolize him in a really unrealistic way--because then he worries what would happen if they learn about his flaws. Would they see him differently? Reject him? Etc.

It'd take a considerable amount of time and effort, but slowly he'd let the walls around his heart down to let you in--but ONLY if you pass his tests and prove that you can be loyal, trustworthy, and cognizant + accepting of all his flaws. He has high standards, so he's pretty picky about who he allows to be by his side. I don't think he'd be happy having to like... put in a fake "perfect prince" act or airs for someone else. Pretending to be someone you're not in order to have love might be just another source of stress for him.

He would take a more aggressive approach if the object of his affections makes it obvious that they return his feelings. More "accidental" touching (but of course nothing that breaches into something they find discomforting), intentionally dropping phrases that come off as flirtatious, demanding to spend more time together, etc.

If they're not into it, he'd respectfully back off. However, that won't stop him from moping about it in private later.

Then, assuming a scenario in which he and the person he's romantically interested in get together/start formally dating:

I think he'd be a lot more blatant and shameless about "showing off" his affections and/or the relationship in general. Overt flirting at this point, casually laying his head on the shoulder or wrapping an arm or tail around you, etc. Who cares who sees? Let them know you're already taken.

Oh yeah, he's really into physical touch (within whatever limits you deem to be acceptable; he respects your autonomy). Cuddles while napping, hand holding, head pats, listening to your heartbeat, etc. It grants him a sense of security that you're like... physically there with him.

As I mentioned earlier, I think there'd be a lot of banter and teasing; Leona strikes me as someone who likes to toy with his pre or puts up a fight; he still has his pride and won't take sass lying down, he'd definitely retaliate but in a playful way.

Slightly whiny and needy. Key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to go full yandere on you. I believe that Leona would be somewhat insecure about the relationship and wants you to validate him with your presence. Like, if you're lying down somewhere and try to get up to leave... he might pout and be all dramatic about it, maybe throw in a sarcastic line about how he's "a delicate prince" and how he'll "wither like a flower" without you.

Slightly possessive. Again, the key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to restrict your movements or demand complete control of your life. However, he might sulk if he like... sees some other guy hovering or getting handsy, obviously making you uncomfortable. (If it's a particularly bad day for him, Leona might get intrusive thoughts about being the "second pick" and his partner leaving him for some "better" guy.) We've already seen he can get pretty territorial when it comes to Savanaclaw and the Botanical Garden, so I think at some point he'd also step in to intimidate people he feels are becoming a problem for his S/O. It's not the case for every situation though; his partner should be able to handle themselves or let him know when he's overstepping.

I think he'd be a little more tolerant of things his partner pulls. They're the one exception for certain things, like touching his ears or being more willing to listen to their requests to go to class or to try this new vegetable.

He'd try to distance his S/O from his family, especially in the beginning. Leona would tell them he doesn't think they're ready to meet the royal family yet (especially knowing the rocky relationship he has with his family), but really a lot of this stems from his pride. Falena, for example, honestly might make him look uncool by infantilizing his "baby bro".

Leona doesn't really go out of his way to plan grand gestures (he's not Kalim). If he does anything "big", it's probably like sending Ruggie to your doorstep with fancy flowers and a notecard or something. What he values isn't the "frivolous" stuff, but spending quality time together (even if it's doing nothing in particular). Might still spoil you on, say, special occasions, but he generally dislikes making a big deal of these things.

I think he'd be into you wearing his clothes. It's an easy visual indication that you're intimate enough to do this, but also it cloaks you in his smell so every other beastman in the immediate vicinity also knows you're "marked". Leona tosses his unworn blazer over you, casually saying, "Keep it."

I do believe he has the capacity to be very sappy, but I don't think he'd want to be at this level all of the time. It would probably be limited to private settings and done sparingly, sort of like a treat?? Cuz if he does it too often, then it might lose its "special" feeling, and I also feel like he wouldn't be open to being all squimshy 24/7. Usually his sappiness is sarcastic.

Going to keep it 100 here, he's going to be more vulnerable around you (especially in private), and that means potential traumadumping. That's not to say that he'd do it super frequently to go into full-blown details, but his S/O would be one of the few people he feels comfortable enough with to open about his deepest insecurities and fears. He sometimes needs someone to hear him out, a shoulder to cry on, etc. Of course, he's not going to treat his partner like an unpaid therapist. Leona just... needs some extra support every now and again, reminders that he's doing fine, you know??

IMPORTANT ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Leona being in love would NOT smooth out all the rough edges to his personality. He's not going to white knight/act like you constantly need his protection, he's not going to bend over backwards and do anything and everything his partner asks of him. He still has a will and he can and will disagree or argue if he's opposed to something. He'll still let you handle yourself as needed.

Leona being in love would also NOT magically cure him of his personal issues and struggles. This is also true of the other characters who have deeply rooted trauma, but I feel this point should be included as a reminder anyway. It's of course not his entire personality, but his past experiences will impact how he interprets and reacts to things in present day (hence him being needy/wanting validation, etc.).

Like all relationships (whether romantic or platonic), it would not be flawless. There will be highs and lows, fights and disagreements, etc. This is normal in any relationship; what matters is that you're able to be mature enough to patch things up afterwards and learn from those rough patches.

[summervb]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 | lee myung-gi (player 333) × fem!reader

summary | you and player 333, race against the clock to find a door. when all hope seems lost, he risks everything to save you

warnings | violence, implied death, panic, and emotional distress, kissing

word count | 1.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The echo of footsteps reverberates around you like a drum in the endless labyrinth. Screams, chaos... everything blends together, and your breathing becomes just another noise. You look around, searching for something—someone—to save you, but all you see are distorted faces, moving without stopping.

“Find a partner and a door before time runs out, or you will be eliminated.”

The words buzz in your head like a cruel hum. The timer on the wall, illuminated in intense red, counts down the seconds of your life.

00:58… 00:57… 00:56

You run toward a door, but someone else is already there.

"Please, wait for me!" you shout, your voice desperate and broken.

They don’t even bother to look at you. You feel a shove on your shoulder as someone else rushes past. Despair sinks into your chest, heavy as a stone, and you start to think there might be no way out.

00:45

You trip, and the cold, hard floor meets your knees. Tears burn in your eyes, but you can’t stop to cry. Not here, not now.

"I’m going to die."

The thought cuts into you like a knife. There’s no metaphor in it; it’s the most terrifying truth you’ve ever faced. If you don’t find a door, if you don’t find a partner, you’re done.

00:30

"Quick!"

A voice pulls you out of your trance. You lift your gaze and see him. It’s him: Lee Myung-Gi, player 333. His white shirt with the number is drenched in sweat, his dark hair disheveled, but his eyes… his eyes shine with a determination that throws you off.

"What are you doing down there? Get up!" he yells, extending his hand.

Your body reacts before your mind can process it. You grab his hand, his grip firm and steady, and he pulls you to your feet.

"Run with me!" he orders, and you do.

His hand doesn’t let go of yours as you sprint down the endless hallway. Every door you pass is already closed, its number dark. There are no options left, and you feel your legs about to give out at any moment.

00:15… 00:14… 00:13

"There!" he shouts, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. It’s the last one.

Your heart speeds up even more, if that’s possible. But then you see it: someone else is running toward that door. A tall man, faster than the two of you, is only steps away from reaching it.

"No…" you whisper, feeling panic tighten your throat.

"Keep running!" Myung-Gi yells, suddenly letting go of your hand.

You watch as he launches himself at the other player, shoving him with all the force he has. The man stumbles and crashes to the ground, yelling in frustration as he tries to get back up.

"I’m sorry!" Myung-Gi shouts before turning back to you and grabbing your hand again.

"Run!"

You don’t have time to think about what he just did. Your feet move on pure instinct, and before you know it, he pushes you through the door and follows right behind you.

00:03… 00:02… 00:01… 00:00

The sound of the door closing is followed by deafening silence. Then, screams, gunshots… and silence again.

You collapse onto the floor, unable to stay on your feet. You’re trembling, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath.

"I’m sorry about that…" Myung-Gi says, leaning against the wall as he breathes heavily. "I didn’t want to do it, but there was no other way."

His voice is calm, but all you can think about is the man he left outside. The tears you’ve been holding back pour out in a hot, bitter stream.

"I can’t… I can’t do this anymore…" you whisper, feeling your entire body shatter inside.

He crosses the small space in a couple of steps and kneels in front of you.

"Hey… look at me. We’re alive. We’re here." His hand rests on your shoulder, firm but comforting.

You can’t help but look at him, even though your eyes are blurred with tears.

"Breathe with me, okay? Inhale… exhale… like this."

You try to follow him. His voice has something in it that soothes you, something that gives you a faint glimmer of hope.

"Thank you…" you manage to murmur. "For not leaving me."

He shakes his head, as if your words weren’t necessary.

"I wasn’t going to let you die. Not you.

His words hit you harder than any shove or fall. You look into his eyes, searching for something—maybe a reason, maybe comfort—and you find a warmth you didn’t expect.

"I don’t know what I would’ve done without you…"

"You don’t need to know. I’m here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you."

Before you can think of a response, you lean into him, desperate for something to hold on to. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, warm and protective, and you rest your head against his chest.

The sound of his heart, strong and steady, is the only thing keeping you grounded.

"I’m here," he whispers, his voice soft against your hair. "You’re not alone."

When you finally lift your head, you realize how close your faces are. His warm breath brushes against your skin, and suddenly, the noise of the game seems to vanish.

He lifts a hand and caresses your cheek, his fingers tracing a delicate path.

"You have to be strong. For us."

And then, his lips meet yours.

It’s a kiss filled with everything you can’t put into words. Desperate, yet comforting, as if he’s trying to imprint on your skin the fact that you’re still alive.

When you pull away, your eyes meet his, and though tears still streak your face, they’re no longer from fear.

"We’ll get out of this together," he says, a small but firm smile on his face. "I promise."

[blog-o-meter]

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

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

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

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

word count: 28,830

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nicholas Alexander Chavez.

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

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

And then, she stepped out of the car.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stifled a chuckle, “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was all he needed to hear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell was I doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, how long have you worked here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then I saw him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nicholas was walking toward me.

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

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

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

But, of course, fate had other plans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then his eyes locked onto mine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paolo was back, but he wasn’t alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then there was her.

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But dreams weren’t reality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not as simple as you think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My mom, Paolo, and Maria approached me then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nicholas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N), wait—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when I saw her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I needed space. I needed to think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s that? Regret?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)?”

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

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

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

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

Nic stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the bottle in my hand before meeting my eyes again. “Looking for you,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “You left dinner pretty fast.”

“Not much of a coffee person,” I said, forcing a wry smile. My heart was racing, and I hated how easily he could unsettle me just by standing there.

He took another step closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I replied, my defenses snapping into place. I turned away from him, leaning against the wall and taking another sip from the bottle. The wine was still terrible, but it gave me something to focus on that wasn’t him.

Nic took a step closer, closing the distance between us until he was standing right in front of me. “Something happened at dinner. Talk to me,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch was light, tentative, but it sent a shiver through me all the same.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his touch lingered like a brand on my skin. “Nothing happened,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. I turned my face away, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Bullshit,” Nic said, his voice dropping lower, rougher. He stepped closer, his body just inches from mine. “I know you, baby. You don’t just disappear like that for no reason.”

The nickname cut through me like a knife, and I hated how it made my heart clench despite everything. “I told you not to call me that,” I muttered, my voice trembling slightly as I pushed away from the wall. I couldn’t stay still, couldn’t let him corner me like this.

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he exhaled sharply. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I just—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair as he looked away, his frustration evident.

“You just what?” I asked, my voice rising slightly. The wine was making me bold, and I hated how much I wanted an answer. “Why did you come out here, Nic? Why do you keep cornering me? What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know!” he snapped, his voice rough with emotion. He took a step back, his hands raking through his hair again as he paced. “Fuck, (Y/N), I don’t know. I just… I saw you leave, and I couldn’t stay in there knowing you were out here alone.”

I stared at him, his words settling heavily between us. He stopped pacing, turning to face me again, his dark eyes filled with something I couldn’t name.

“I miss you,” he said finally, his voice soft but filled with a raw honesty that made my chest ache. “I know I shouldn’t say it, but I do. And seeing you again, seeing you like this… it’s fucking killing me.”

My breath caught, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. The weight of his words, the way he was looking at me — it was too much, and not enough all at once. He was jeopardizing his life over something he didn’t know… that’s killing me.

I gripped the bottle tighter, using it to anchor myself as his words settled like a storm in my chest. My pulse raced, my thoughts a chaotic tangle of anger, longing, and the memories I’d been trying so hard to suppress.

“You’re fucking killing me, too,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, and I hated the way my voice cracked. “Do you think this is easy for me? Seeing you, hearing you say things like that, when you—” My voice broke, and I shook my head, swallowing hard. “You don’t get to miss me, Nic. You don’t get to do this.”

His expression shifted, the vulnerability giving way to something darker, sharper. “Why not?” he asked, stepping closer, his voice low and intense. “Why the fuck not? You think I wanted this? To be here with all this shit between us?”

“You chose this!” I snapped, my voice rising. “You chose this, Nic. You chose her, you chose your life, your future, and now you want to act like you didn’t? Like it wasn’t a choice?”

He flinched like I’d slapped him, but he didn’t back down. “I didn’t choose her,” he said, shaking his head. “I—“ his voice cracked. “I wanted to break up with her; I didn’t like being with her. Next thing I know, she’s pregnant, and I didn’t want to be someone who ran away like a coward, so…” he trailed off.

“…so you stayed,” I finished for him, my voice trembling with anger and something deeper, something raw and aching. “You stayed because it was the right thing to do. And that’s great, Nic. That’s really noble of you. But don’t come here, looking at me like this, saying things like that, and act like I’m the one who doesn’t get it.”

He stared at me, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know how fucked up this is?” he said, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t hate myself for this? For hurting you? For—”

“Stop,” I interrupted, my voice sharp. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

His mouth snapped shut, his chest heaving as he stared at me. The silence between us was thick and suffocating, filled with all the things we weren’t saying.

I turned away, pacing a few steps to put some distance between us. The cool night air bit at my skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat coursing through me, the anger and the longing and the sheer exhaustion of feeling everything all at once.

“You don’t get to come back into my life and act like you still have a place here,” I said, my back to him. “You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to look at me like you—”

“Like I what?” he cut in, his voice rising as he stepped closer. “Like I still love you?”

I froze, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. My breath caught, my pulse pounding in my ears as I turned to face him. “You don’t mean that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t mean that.”

His dark eyes burned into mine, raw and unguarded in a way I hadn’t seen in years. “I mean every fucking word,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’ve tried to stop. God, (Y/N), I’ve tried. But I can’t. I love you, and it’s fucking killing me because I know I don’t deserve you. I know I  fucked everything up back then. But I can’t—” His voice broke, and he looked away, his hands raking through his hair. “I can’t stop.”

The air between us felt heavy, charged with the weight of everything he’d just said. I wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to tell him how unfair it was for him to say these things when I’d spent years trying to move on, trying to forget the way he made me feel.

But more than that, I wanted to kiss him. To pull him close and let myself drown in the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel like the center of his universe even when I knew I shouldn’t be.

“You’re such an asshole,” I said finally, my voice shaking.

He let out a breathless laugh, his gaze snapping back to mine. “Yeah,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, humorless smile. “I am. But I’m your asshole.”

I hated him for that. For the way he could still make me want him, even now, even when everything was so fucked up.

“You don’t get to say that,” I said, my voice trembling as I took a step closer, my chest heaving with the weight of everything I was feeling. “You don’t get to—”

But before I could finish, he closed the distance between us, his hands cupping my face as his lips crashed into mine.

It was messy and desperate and everything I’d been trying to resist since the moment I saw him again. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as my own hands fisted in his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me grounded.

“You’re killing me,” I whispered against his lips, my voice breaking as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

“I know,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. “But I can’t stop. I can’t stay away from you.”

I didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his hands were on my waist, lifting me onto the edge of the low stone wall behind us. My legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, pulling him closer as his mouth trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Nic,” I gasped, my fingers threading through his hair as he pressed kisses along my collarbone, his hands gripping my thighs tightly.

“I need you,” he said, his voice low and raw as he looked up at me, his dark eyes filled with a desperation that mirrored my own. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

“I—” The words caught in my throat, my breath shallow and ragged as I stared down at him. His face was inches from mine, his lips parted, his dark eyes filled with raw vulnerability that cut through every ounce of resistance I’d tried to muster. “I want you,” I whispered, the confession tumbling out before I could stop it.

The second the words left my mouth, his lips were on mine, hot and demanding, like he was trying to claim every unspoken feeling we’d ever shared. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I gasped, my fingers fisting in his hair as his mouth moved to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his breath hot against my collarbone as his hands slid under my shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of my waist. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but let myself get lost in him. My head tilted back, giving him access to my neck as his lips trailed down.

“This is so fucked up,” I breathed, my voice trembling as his mouth found the curve of my shoulder.

My hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel him, to erase the space between us. He shrugged it off, and my breath hitched at the sight of him, all sharp lines and smooth skin, his muscles flexing as he reached for me.

I hadn’t seen him like this since he was 20. His body was leaner back then, but now he was all hard lines and tension, every golden muscle defined with bulging veins. My hands moved instinctively, tracing the contours of his chest, the smooth expanse of his skin sending a rush of heat through me. He was huge, in every sense of the word. The sight of him now, so much older, broader, and undeniably magnetic, made my head spin. 25 looked amazing on him.

His hands were on my hips again, pulling me toward him as he kissed me with a raw, desperate hunger that made my knees weak. Every touch, every sound, every breath between us felt charged, like the culmination of years of tension finally snapping.

“I can’t believe I ever let you go,” Nicholas muttered against my lips, his voice low and rough.

He stilled for a moment, his eyes darting between both of mine as if he was convincing himself that this was really happening. He then crouched down to collect his shirt from the floor and wrapped his hands around my thighs, lifting me effortlessly and making his way to the door of the pool house.

The cool night air rushed over me as Nicholas carried me, his grip firm but careful, his shirt draped haphazardly over one of my legs. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, my heart pounding so hard I could barely hear anything else. The faint sound of crickets in the distance mingled with the muffled hum of the estate behind us, but all I could focus on was him — the heat of his skin, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers pressed into my thighs.

When he reached the door of the pool house, he nudged it open with his shoulder, stepping inside and kicking it shut behind him. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the space. The scent of chlorine lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the heady musk of sweat and desire.

Nicholas set me down on the edge of the couch, his hands lingering on my hips as he knelt between my legs, his dark eyes meeting mine with a heat that sent a shiver down my spine.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he said, his voice low and rough, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my thighs. “How many times I’ve wished I could take it all back. Every mistake. Every second I wasted away from you.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. “Nic,” I started, but he cut me off with a kiss, his lips crashing into mine with a desperation that left me breathless.

“Don’t,” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding up to cup my face. “Don’t say anything. Just let me—let me have this.”

I couldn’t argue, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but let him consume me. His hands roamed my body, rough and urgent, as though he was trying to memorize every inch of me. My own hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips moved to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin and sending a jolt of electricity straight through me.

His hands slipped under my shirt, tugging it upward until I lifted my arms, letting him pull it over my head and toss it to the floor. His gaze raked over me, his breath hitching as his hands moved to the clasp of my bra. “God, you’re so perfect,” he said, his fingers trembling slightly as he unhooked it and slid the straps down my arms.

I gasped as the cool air hit my skin, followed by the heat of his mouth as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the curve of my breast. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as he kissed his way down, his tongue flicking over my nipple and drawing a quiet moan from my lips.

“Nic,” I whimpered, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked his way lower, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Nicholas’s hands gripped my hips firmly as his mouth continued its path downward, his lips and tongue leaving no inch of skin untouched. The heat between us was unbearable, a storm we could no longer hold back, and the weight of every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment of longing, exploded in this moment.

His fingers worked at the waistband of my shorts, his eyes locking onto mine as he tugged them down, taking my underwear with them. His eyes widened, almost as if he couldn’t believe the way I looked now. He hadn’t seen me like this since I was 18; I was 23 now. The years that had passed between us felt both like a lifetime and an instant as Nicholas’s gaze lingered on me.

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, his hands trembling slightly as they slid up my thighs. “You’re even more beautiful now, baby.”

I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling as his words washed over me. The way he looked at me — like he couldn’t believe I was real, like he couldn’t believe I was here — sent a rush of heat through me that had nothing to do with the alcohol still buzzing in my veins.

“You keep saying that,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“And I’ll say it again,” he murmured, leaning in to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to my inner thigh. “Every chance I get.”

His hands slid higher, gripping my hips as his lips moved closer, the heat of his breath sending shivers up my spine. I reached down, tangling my fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. His dark eyes met mine, the raw hunger there making my stomach clench, his lips quirking into a smirk that was both cocky and devastatingly sexy.

And then his mouth was on me.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through me so intense it made my toes curl. My head fell back against the cushions, a gasp escaping my lips as he worked me with a precision that left me breathless. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as his tongue teased and tasted, his stubble scratching against my skin in a way that only added to the fire coursing through me.

“Fuck, Nic,” I whimpered, my hands fisting in his hair as my hips bucked against his mouth.

His grip on my thighs tightened, pinning me firmly against the couch as he buried his face between my legs, his tongue moving with an urgency that made my entire body tremble. “Stay still,” he growled, his voice muffled but commanding. “Let me take care of you.”

The sound of his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I tried to obey, though every nerve in my body screamed for more. His tongue flicked over me in deliberate, agonizing strokes, his lips closing around the most sensitive part of me and sucking just hard enough to make my hips jerk.

“God, Nic, please,” I gasped, my voice high and breathless. I shook my head, curling my fingers around his short hair, “No. I need you inside me, Nic.”

Nicholas stilled for a moment, his dark eyes lifting to meet mine as his lips curled into a smirk, his chin and mouth glistening from his work. My chest was heaving, my body trembling under the weight of his gaze and the fire he’d already ignited within me.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through me as he pressed one last kiss to my thigh before sitting back on his heels. “Anything for you, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with heat.

Nicholas stood, his body towering over me as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it free in one swift motion. The clink of the metal and the soft rustle of fabric as he shucked off his slacks and boxers sent another rush of heat through me. My breath caught at the sight of him, every inch of him perfect, from the hard lines of his abs to the thighs the size of tree trunks to the sheer size of him, thick and ready.

“Goddamn, Nic,” I murmured, unable to tear my eyes away. He was beautiful, all sharp angles and raw power, and the way he looked at me, like he was about to devour me, made my pulse race.

“Eyes up here, baby,” he said, his tone laced with amusement as he stepped closer, gripping my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the couch.

My cheeks burned, but I met his gaze, the intensity in his dark eyes making it impossible to look away. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss as he positioned himself at my entrance. The heat of him against me sent a shiver down my spine, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. My hands cupped his face as I pulled him in for another kiss.

With one smooth thrust, he pushed inside me, filling me completely. I cried out, my head falling back as he stilled, giving me a moment to adjust. The stretch was perfect, just as it was all those years ago.

“Fuck, you’re better than heaven, baby,” he groaned, his forehead resting against mine as his hands gripped my hips. “Even better than I remember.”

I whimpered, my nails digging into his shoulders as I tried to catch my breath. “Fuck me,” I demanded, my voice shaky but firm. “Please, Nic. I need you to fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hips pulled back before thrusting forward again, setting a rhythm that was slow and deliberate at first, every movement calculated to drive me insane. But as the tension between us built, his pace quickened, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, until the sound of our bodies colliding echoed through the room.

“(Y/N),” he growled, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I was sure there would be bruises. “I was made for you, baby. Nobody else. Just you.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine, the raw intensity in his voice carving through every thought, every inhibition I had left. “Just me,” I whispered, my nails raking down his back as I clung to him, my body arching to meet each of his thrusts. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back as I let myself drown in him — the way he filled me, the way he consumed me, the way he owned me.

“Say it,” Nicholas demanded, his lips brushing against my ear as he buried himself inside me again, deeper this time, the stretch and fullness stealing the air from my lungs. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, the confession tumbling from my lips before I could stop it. The truth of it, the undeniable gravity of what he meant to me, hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me raw and exposed. “Always yours.”

“Shit,” he growled, his movements growing erratic as he pulled me impossibly closer, his hands gripping my thighs like he was afraid I’d disappear. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby. You’re in my fucking blood.”

I gasped, my voice trembling as he shifted, lifting one of my legs over his shoulder to hit even deeper. The angle made me cry out, my nails raking down his back as he pounded into me with a desperation that matched my own. “Oh, my God, right there—fuck, don’t stop!”

“Not a chance, baby,” he growled, his voice rough and full of promise. His dark eyes locked onto mine, his gaze so intense it made my head spin. “You’re mine, (Y/N). Always have been. Always fucking will be.”

My head fell back, a moan ripping from my throat as he hit a spot inside me that sent stars exploding behind my eyes. The tension in my stomach coiled tighter, every nerve ending on fire as he drove me closer and closer to the edge. 

“I’m so close,” I whimpered, my voice breaking as I clawed at his shoulders, desperate for release. “Nic, I—”

“Let go,” he urged, his voice low and commanding, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Come for me, baby. I wanna feel you.”

The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered, sent me spiraling. The tension snapped, pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but scream his name. My body trembled, every muscle tightening as the orgasm ripped through me, leaving me raw and undone.

“Jesus Christ,” Nicholas groaned, his grip on me tightening as my walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper. He thrust into me once, twice more, before his own release hit, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside me, filling me completely until it dripped and pooled around us.

The room fell silent except for the sound of our ragged breathing and the hum of the pool filter just outside, the heat of our bodies mingling as we clung to each other in the aftermath. Nicholas didn’t move, his arms wrapped tightly around me as though letting go wasn’t an option. My heart was pounding, each beat echoing in my ears as the weight of what just happened started to settle over me.

He pressed his forehead against mine, his breath still uneven as he whispered, “Fuck, (Y/N)… You wreck me.”

I let out a shaky laugh, my fingers tracing the muscles in his back, slick with sweat. “I think we just wrecked each other.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, vibrating through his chest. “I missed this,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “I missed you.”

My chest tightened at the raw honesty in his words, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. The truth was, I’d missed him too — every part of him, every look, every touch. But I wasn’t sure how to say that without unraveling completely.

Instead, I let my fingers trail up to his face, cupping his jaw as I tilted his head so I could meet his gaze. His dark brown eyes searched mine, the intensity there enough to make my pulse quicken all over again. “This can’t happen again,” I whispered, though even as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t true.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. But then he leaned down, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss so tender it made my heart ache. “We both know that’s a lie,” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding up my sides to cradle me against him. “Because the second I get another chance, I’m taking it.”

“Nic—” I started, but he silenced me with another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier, reigniting the fire between us.

“Let me stay here with you,” he murmured, his lips moving against mine as his hands explored my body again. “Just for tonight. No bullshit. No reality. Just us.”

His sincerity made my heart clench, but that obviously couldn’t happen. I cupped my hand in his face and kissed the apple of his cheek, “As much as I want to, you know I can’t. My mom is back in there drinking coffee with your mom and your fiancée. They’ll all know something’s going on.”

Nicholas let out a frustrated sigh, his forehead falling to rest against mine. His breath was warm, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my back as though he was trying to memorize me in the short time we had left.

“I know,” he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. “I hate that I can’t just keep you here. That I can’t—” He broke off, his hands tightening on my waist.

I smiled weakly, brushing my thumb across his cheek. “I don’t like it either.”

He leaned into my touch for a fleeting moment before stepping back, his hands trailing down my sides as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. The loss of his warmth made my chest ache, but I forced myself to focus on the bigger picture. On the consequences.

Nicholas raked a hand through his messy hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. “This isn’t over,” he said finally, his voice firm despite the heaviness in the room. “You and me, baby. We’re not over.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I nodded. “I know.”

His lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile, and for a moment, we just stood there, the air between us charged with everything we couldn’t say. Finally, Nicholas reached for his discarded shirt, pulling it on with a kind of resignation that made my chest tighten all over again.

“I’ll go out first,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “You wait a few minutes, then head back.”

I nodded, watching as he buttoned his shirt and slipped into his briefs and slacks with steady hands, though his dark eyes kept flicking back to me like he couldn’t quite look away. When he was finished, he paused, his fingers lingering on the zipper as he took a deep breath.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

I looked up at him, my heart pounding as his gaze locked onto mine.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer and cupping my face in his hands. “This isn’t the end. I don’t care how fucked up everything is right now — I’ll figure it out. I’ll fix it. Just… don’t give up on me. On us.”

I blinked, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest. “Nic…”

“Promise me,” he urged, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “Promise me you won’t give up.”

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding, my voice barely a whisper. “I promise.”

The relief that washed over his face was almost enough to break me, but before I could dwell on it, he leaned down, pressing one last kiss to my lips. It was slow and lingering, filled with a desperation that made my heart ache.

When he pulled away, his dark eyes lingered on mine for a beat longer before he turned and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, glancing back at me one last time.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, his voice low and full of promise.

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him and leaving me alone with the echoes of his words and the weight of what we’d just done.

The silence of the pool house pressed down on me like a heavy blanket, the faint hum of the pool filter outside the only sound breaking through the quiet. My legs felt weak, my body trembling as I stood there, staring at the door he’d just walked through.

The faint scent of him lingered in the room — woodsy cologne mixed with sweat and desire — and it wrapped around me, pulling me back into the moment we’d just shared. I shook my head, trying to clear it, to push the memory to the back of my mind.

I pulled on my discarded clothes with shaking hands, the fabric sticking to my damp skin. Each movement felt heavier, slower, like my body was resisting the return to reality. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my uniform, and I let out a frustrated sigh, finally managing to pull it up.

I closed my eyes, my head falling into my hands as a wave of guilt and longing washed over me. I shouldn’t have promised him anything. I shouldn’t have let him kiss me, touch me, pull me back into his orbit. But God help me, I didn’t know how to resist him. I never had.

The sound of laughter drifted in from the main house, sharp and distant, a reminder of the world waiting for me beyond the walls of the pool house. I needed to pull myself together, to put on a brave face and pretend like nothing had happened.

Rising to my feet, I adjusted my clothes, smoothing down my dress and running my fingers through my hair in a half-hearted attempt to fix the damage. My reflection in the glass of the pool house door caught my eye, and I froze, staring at the woman looking back at me.

She looked like a stranger — her cheeks flushed, her eyes too bright, her lips swollen from kisses that shouldn’t have happened. A part of me hated her for being so weak, so reckless. But another part, a quieter, more dangerous part, understood her too well. She was me. And no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I wasn’t done with Nicholas Chavez. Not yet.

I sighed, forcing my gaze away from the reflection and toward the glowing lights of the main house in the distance. Each step back felt heavier than the last, the weight of my choices pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

When I reached the patio, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses grew louder, the warm glow of the house spilling out into the cool night. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the handle of the French door, my heart pounding in my chest. I can do this.

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself before pushing the door open. The hum of conversation greeted me, a stark contrast to the silence of the pool house. I slipped inside, my head down, hoping to blend into the crowd unnoticed.

“(Y/N)!” My mother’s voice rang out, bright and cheery. “There you are, sweetie. We were just about to send Paolo to look for you.”

I plastered on a smile, forcing my voice to sound steady as I replied, “Just needed some air. Ready to go home?”

My mom tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she scanned my face. “You’ve been outside all this time? You’re flushed, honey.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, brushing a stray hair out of my face. “It’s just the wine. And maybe the fireplace — it’s blazing in here.”

She didn’t look convinced, but before she could press the issue, Paolo chimed in. “We’re all ready when you are, cara mia.” His warm smile felt like a lifeline, grounding me in the present. “Maria’s already gathering her things.”

“Perfect,” I said, returning his smile, though it felt thin, strained. I turned toward the lounge, catching sight of Maria chatting animatedly with one of the other guests. She glanced up as I approached, her eyes brightening.

“Are we leaving?” Maria asked, her expression shifting into a polite but eager readiness. “I think I’ve charmed enough people for one evening.”

I laughed lightly, nodding. “Let’s head out before they ask for your secrets.”

As we moved toward the door, I felt Nicholas’s gaze on me before I saw him. He was standing near his fiancée as she spoke to another guest, his arms carefully clasped behind him as if he didn’t want to touch her, as if I spoiled him from ever wanting to touch her again, even to keep up appearances.

His dark eyes tracked my every movement, a storm brewing beneath the surface that only I could see. My chest tightened, and I forced myself to look away, focusing on the cool night air beckoning just beyond the door.

“Let me get the car,” Paolo said, his hand brushing lightly against my arm. His tone was warm and reassuring, grounding me in a way I desperately needed.

Maria and my mom moved ahead, chatting softly as they walked out onto the driveway. I lingered just inside the door, caught in the magnetic pull of Nicholas’s gaze.

I glanced back, my resolve weakening as our eyes locked again. He wasn’t trying to hide it anymore — the longing, the frustration, the unspoken words that hung heavy between us. It was written all over his face, plain as day. His fiancée turned slightly, her hand brushing his arm as she laughed at something the older man beside her said. Nicholas didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as glance at her.

All of him was focused on me.

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as I turned and followed my mom and Maria outside. The night air hit me like a slap, cool and sharp against my flushed skin. I could hear the low rumble of Paolo’s car engine as it pulled up to the curb.

“Come on, sweetheart,” my mom called, her voice cutting through the haze of emotions clouding my mind. 

I forced a smile, slipping into the backseat beside her. Maria climbed into the passenger seat, her laughter carrying over as Paolo started the car. I leaned my head back against the seat, staring out the window as the estate grew smaller and smaller behind us.

But no matter how far we drove, I couldn’t shake the weight of Nicholas’s gaze, the echo of his voice, or the promise lingering in the air between us.

[ihaznoclue]

Hello there friend I am back (The one who did the mirio tying a balloon to readers back) which I loved!

I am here to request something for the sonic 3 movie as I saw it and I am obsessed

Can I get Sonic, Shadow and Knuckles (Shadow can be on sonics teams if that makes sense)

Maybe that you and him are relaxing after a well earned day, maybe relaxing on the couch and you wanted to give him a reward for saving the day once again

So you decided to give him some head pats to which causes him to purr and then fall asleep

I actually searched up that hedgehog and echidna's can purr which I didn't know but now I do!

Pairings -> Sonic, Shadow and Knuckles x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> They deserve a well deserved rest and some head pats | This can be after sonic 3

Genre -> Fluff

Sonic the Hedgehog

It all started with a chill morning, nothing to crazy as you watched form afar while Sonic, Knuckles, Tails and Shadow have a little race between the four of them

Tom and Maddie were simply in the house doing their own things before the others decided to come back inside. You on the other hand didn't mind this at all, looking after the four of them with Tom and Maddie, well duh because you lived with them

Your favourite was sonic, you loved his personality, he was prideful, cheerful, most energetic and cocky hedgehog you've met before you met the others.

Sonic loved to hang out with you, he loved your presence and comfort you brought that keeps him positivity and comfort he liked you

After a day of racing and then suddenly being called out to help defeat someone and than other hero stuff that he needed to do

He just wanted to rest, you decided to watch a movie with him on the couch, Ozzie being next to sonic as he was in the middle

You had a arm resting on the top of the couch behind sonic's head, the brightness of the TV slightly blinding you

You looked down at sonic as he was quite interested in this movie as Ozzie started to walk out of the room to somewhere else

You smiled as you reached your arm that resting on the couch down his head as you started to give him pats and some head scratches behind his ears, trying to be careful of his blue quills

His ear perked a little as looked up at him confused on what you were doing

"What are you doing?" He asked, you chuckled at him as you responded "I'm giving you head pats.. do you want me to stop?" You said as you stop with the head scratches behind the ears

"No, it feels nice actually don't stop" He said as he reached his head up to your hand, which you slightly giggled as you went back to giving him affection

Going back to looking at the TV for a few seconds you started to hear purring, the only other person well hedgehog who was in the same room as you was sonic

You looked down at sonic to notice he was asleep, leaning his head onto your side as he had a smile as you he purred away

A little bit of thumping was also heard by his tail that was slightly wagging onto the couch below

You couldn't resist to carefully get out your phone to take a little photo of this moment

It was to cute!

Shadow the Hedgehog

He hadn't received affection form anyone beside Maria before you know.. Died..

He was cold and mysterious as he only got closer to you as he started to live with the others as he had nowhere else to go, Tom and Maddie knew you were the right option to look after Shadow as they look after the others

Shadow never really talk that much to the others but he seemed to give a liking towards you as he gave you some words out of his mouth

Shadow was powerful and fast, but he was cool looking to you as you felt like you needed to give him some affection and comfort of your own

You wanted to give him as much comfort and love as you knew how much he has suffered and being locked up for 50 years in that God awful tube

Now Shadow came back from a little mission of his own as he teleported by using his chaos control back to the house, slightly scaring you as you were seated on the couch relaxing

"Hmph scaredy cat" He smirked a little as you gave him a little pout "Well you did just appear out of the blue without any warning" You spoke back causing Shadow to look at you with curiosity

"What are you doing?" He asked, you looked at him confused as you looked at what you were doing yourself

"Um.. Relaxing?" You said like a question

Shadow raised an eyebrow as you now thought of an idea, patting the couch beside you "Sit, Relax with me Shadow"

He didn't fight it as he sat next to you with arms cross across his chest fur, he didn't think as he just look straight ahead at the TV that was playing in front of him

"You know, you can release your tension, don't have to act tense in front of me" You spoke but got a gruff in response

So you decided to try something to help him as you reached out a hand to started giving him head scratches which caused him to flinch back

"What are you doing?" He asked, looking a little bit grumpy at you

"Trying to help you relax, trust me it would work. You've been working so hard and I want to help you" You replied as you stilled your head in front of him

He looked at your head and back at you, seeming to think about it as he reached his head to your hand as his ear flattened

You smiled as you started to work through his quill being gently, scratching behind his ears as well which seemed to have a effect on him as he started to purr a little

His head seeming to move a little bit more closer than he was before, which you slightly chuckled a little as you looked back at the tv

Now it's been a couple of minutes, "Shad-ow.." You looked back down at Shadow to only see his peaceful restful face

You gave a little smile as you whispered

"Sleep well Shads"

Knuckles the Echidna

Again hasn't received much affection since he lost his tribe and father the ones he cared for but lost at a very young age

I believe that he would forget the warm touch of comfort that someone gives him, or he would be a little bit worried if he would accidentally hurt them by his strength

But that's when you came around, sweet and kind with a quiet but comforting presence that would make him feel at ease just by you being there with him

After being out for nearly the whole day because of villains and guarding and other stuff that you never know what this echidna does

He finally gets home but.. something wasn't right

He looked furious as if someone pissed him off, which was most likely out of the other possible chances that could of happened

He was also dirty with dirt and grub on his fur and stuck in his quills, dirt smudged on his muzzle cheek

You just stood there trying to not laugh as you covered your mouth with a hand, Knuckles closing his eyes for a second then re-opening them

"What happened?" You asked

"I would not like to talk about it" Knuckles said in a grumbled tone like he was about to punch something or someone

You cleared your throat as you asked him if he wanted a bath to clean himself off

Knuckles just simply followed you the bathroom, you turning on the tap as water ran down into the bathtub

You sat on the edge of the bathtub as you didn't want to question much on what happened to knuckles as he took off his gloves and his shoes

"Want bubbles?" You asked as you took a bottle of bath bubble, lavender scent

"What is bubbles?" He asked which to you excitedly took the cap off and started to pour in the bubbles as you started to swirl the water around causing Knuckles to become interested

After cleaning him off gently and dried him you two were sloughing on the couch watching some TV as you two relaxed

Knuckles needed this and you knew it

Reaching a hand down to gently pet his head caused him to look up at you as he questioned what you were doing

"What are you doing with your hand?"

"Petting you" You paused your hand "I could stop if you like-" You spoke as you pulled back your hand only for it to be grabbed by Knuckles hand

You thought he would crush your hand but he was gentle with grabbing your hand, he pulled your hand back to his head as he looked away

"Do It again" He spoke in a quiet tone, you gave out a little smirk as you continued on what you were doing

After a few minutes of doing what you were doing you hearing thumping, looking down to see that Knuckles fell asleep while his Tail was wagging against the couch

This causes you to snort a little at the adorable moment

Continuing with petting his head as you went back to watching the TV until you fell asleep yourself

-A<3

[sky-is-the-limit]

I don’t think people fully understand the sheer gravity of Destiel.

Like, this isn’t just a story about an angel falling in love with a human or another fanon ship that was created just because two dudes were standing too close.

This is an angel, a being forged by God, programmed to follow orders, incapable of free will, the literal embodiment of divine obedience!!! choosing to rebel. For one man. For Dean Winchester.

Think about it. Castiel wasn’t made to feel. He wasn’t made to question. He was made to serve, to follow heaven’s will without hesitation and then he meets Dean. He saves him from hell and in that moment, that exact fucking moment, his entire purpose shifts. Dean didn’t just change his mind cause we are not talking about another mortal being. He changed his entire fucking existence.

And here’s the kicker of it all. God, the all-knowing, all-powerful storyteller, couldn’t stop it. God, who controlled the narrative, who created Castiel and set the rules of the universe, couldn’t stop him from falling. Cas didn’t just disobey orders!!!!!!! He shattered the divine design. He looked at Heaven, at the eternity he was promised and said, "No. I choose him." Insane.

Do you understand how fucking huge that is? This isn’t a simple love story. This is cosmic rebellion and the writers couldn’t even grasp the insanity of what they created for a CW show.

It’s tragic and overwhelming because Cas didn’t fall in love with Dean for any selfish reasons. He didn’t want anything back. He didn’t expect Dean to love him, didn’t need his affection or validation. He never got to touch him or kiss him or get the "I love you too" that all of us wanted to hear. He just wanted to be near him. To help him. To save him, over and over, to make sure that Dean knew that he had someone who was looking after him.

And the cost? It was everything and people just brush over that.

Cas gave up Heaven. He gave up grace. He gave up the safety of eternity and purpose to stay in Dean’s proximity. Not because he was destined to, not because God told him to but because he *chose* to. That’s what makes it so tragic. It wasn’t written. It wasn’t meant to happen. Castiel broke the rules of his existence for someone who didn’t even realise the depth of it until it was too late.

Then THAT moment. When Cas says, "You changed me, Dean." It just hits different, doesn’t it??? Cause it’s not just a love confession. it’s a revelation. He confirms it right there that it was Dean's humanity that did it. Not some grand cosmic force, not some divine intervention. Dean himself, in all his flawed, beautiful, self-sacrificial mess, changed everything.

Dean, who always put others before himself, who had to raise himself, who gave everything to Sam and kept nothing for him. Dean, who was destined to always be second, to always sacrifice his own needs for someone else. Dean, whose car that he loved so much, his only constant, even that belonged to his father. Dean, whose clothes were probably second-hand, whose childhood was spent taking care of his little brother. Dean, whose purpose was always for the world, for the greater good and never for himself.

For the first time, Dean had something that was his. Something that wasn’t meant for anyone but him. Cas was HIS. Not for God, not for his father, not for Sam or the world.

This isn’t just a story about love!!! It’s *the* story about love. It’s messy and painful and romantic in the most devastating way cause Cas didn’t just rebel against heaven, people!!! He rewrote the entire concept of free will, of devotion, of sacrifice!!!!

He loved Dean with everything he was and that love was strong enough to defy God himself.

It’s the greatest, most tragic, most insane fictional story of our lifetime. Nothing will ever come close.