#completely grown found within me

[the-indie-owl]

Toddler-Year-Old Me who never really knew who this Character was (since their only exposure was Season 2) & only saw him in a One Video Game Adaptation review through a Critic Gameplay Video (which I never really did care nor crush on him that much) but when re-trying out Season 1, did I not realize that this Obscure DILF is one of my Long-Lost Crushes that I've never seen as a Kid until now as of Recently.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Birthday Boy

Summary: It's getting to Max's birthday and you know what he wants for it.

Song: Heartbeat by Childish Gambino

Author’s note: DUDUDUDU MAX VERSTAPPEN! Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 4.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

Max's birthday was just around the corner, and you found yourself in a fortunate position, having a few weeks off from work. This time away felt like a blessing, especially considering how close you and Max had grown recently.

The aftermath of your breakup had been tough, filled with emotional turmoil and countless tears. Yet, through it all, Max had been your rock, offering comfort and support.

You often found solace in his presence, spending nights in his bed while he opted for the couch, a testament to the deepening bond between you two.

It felt perfectly normal, a natural progression of friendship, or so you thought.

As you enjoyed a leisurely afternoon playing golf, the sun shining brightly overhead, Lily suddenly interrupted your thoughts with a loud exclamation.

"Absolutely not!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the serene atmosphere. You turned to her, puzzled, as she continued, "You can't just sleep in his bed like that! It’s not just friends hanging out; it’s crossing a line!"

Her words hung in the air, and you could feel the tension rising.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Lily, me and him are just friends! It’s not like we’re planning a romantic getaway or anything," you replied, trying to lighten the mood.

Lily rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "Fine, but just remember, boundaries are important!" she warned, her tone softening.

Lily leaned back, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she took a swing at the golf ball, sending it soaring into the bright blue sky. "You know, you and I both understand that Max is head over heels for you," she remarked casually, a teasing grin spreading across her face.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything around you faded into the background. Your heart raced, a sudden flutter of disbelief and excitement coursing through you.

This was the first time anyone had ever suggested such a thing, and the thought sent your mind spiraling.

"What? Are you serious?" you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. The revelation felt like a jolt of electricity, igniting a mix of hope and confusion within you.

You had always thought of Max as a close friend, someone who shared laughter and late-night conversations, but the idea of him harboring deeper feelings was entirely new.

You could hardly process it, your thoughts racing as you tried to recall every interaction you’d had with him, searching for signs that you might have missed.

Lily chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. "What? You really didn’t know? Wow, you two are like two peas in a pod, completely oblivious to each other’s feelings," she teased, shaking her head in disbelief.

"It’s almost comical how you both dance around the truth. I mean, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention? It’s like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face."

Her words painted a vivid picture in your mind, and suddenly, the world felt a little brighter, filled with possibilities you had never dared to consider before.

As they lounged in the sun-drenched golf park, Lily leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, there’s a way to find out if he really likes you," she said, a playful grin spreading across her face.

The anticipation bubbled within you, and you leaned in, eager to hear more. "How?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Lily's expression turned conspiratorial as she glanced over at Alex, who was engrossed in a game of golf with Lando. "Guys secretly enjoy it when you gently cup their cheek or run your fingers through their hair," she explained, her voice low and teasing.

"That’s how I figured out that big guy over there was into me. It’s all about those little moments of connection." You watched Alex swing his club, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, and wondered if Max would respond the same way if you tried something similar.

"Just think about it," Lily continued, her tone light yet encouraging. "If he doesn’t like you, he’ll probably pull away or act all awkward. But if he does… well, you’ll definitely know."

She nudged you playfully, her laughter ringing out like music in the air.

The thought of testing the waters sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but imagine the possibilities.

Would Max react positively?

The idea of a shared moment filled with unspoken feelings made your heart race, and you felt a surge of confidence at the prospect of taking that leap.

As they lounged in the sun-drenched golf park, Lily leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, there’s a way to find out if he really likes you," she said, a playful grin spreading across her face.

The anticipation bubbled within you, and you leaned in, eager to hear more. "How?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Lily's expression turned conspiratorial as she glanced over at Alex, who was engrossed in a game of golf with Lando. "Guys secretly enjoy it when you gently cup their cheek or run your fingers through their hair," she explained, her voice low and teasing.

"That’s how I figured out that big guy over there was into me. It’s all about those little moments of connection." You watched Alex swing his club, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, and wondered if Max would respond the same way if you tried something similar.

"Just think about it," Lily continued, her tone light yet encouraging. "If he doesn’t like you, he’ll probably pull away or act all awkward. But if he does… well, you’ll definitely know."

She nudged you playfully, her laughter ringing out like music in the air.

The thought of testing the waters sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but imagine the possibilities.

Would Max react positively?

After the golf session was over, your phone buzzed with a text from Max.

"Hey, come over to my place. I’ve got something cool to show you," it read.

Your heart skipped a beat, excitement mingling with nerves as you replied with a quick, "Sure, be there soon!"

The drive to Max's house felt longer than usual, every passing minute filled with anticipation.

As the door swung open, Max stepped into view, his presence commanding immediate attention. His muscular physique was evident even beneath the casual attire he wore; a fitted t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and sculpted arms, accentuating the definition of his biceps.

The fabric of his jeans hugged his powerful thighs, hinting at the strength that lay beneath. With a confident stance, he exuded an aura of both approachability and strength, making it clear that he was someone who took care of himself while still embracing a laid-back style.

Max's features were striking, framed by tousled hair that added a touch of rugged charm to his overall appearance. His chiseled jawline and high cheekbones gave him a classic handsomeness, while his warm smile revealed a friendly demeanor that put others at ease.

The way he carried himself suggested a blend of confidence and humility, as if he was fully aware of his physical prowess but chose to remain grounded.

The casual outfit he wore—a simple t-shirt paired with well-fitted jeans—allowed his natural charisma to shine through without overshadowing his approachable nature.

As he stood there, the light from the hallway illuminated his figure, casting a subtle glow that highlighted the contours of his muscles. Max's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, suggesting a playful spirit beneath his strong exterior.

When you arrived, Max greeted you at the door, his usual easygoing smile on his face

"Glad you could make it," he said, leading you inside. As you stepped into the cozy living room, you couldn't shake Lily's words from your mind.

You found yourself glancing at Max, wondering if this would be the right moment to test her theory.

"So, what’s the cool thing you wanted to show me?" you asked, trying to sound casual while your heart raced.

Max's grin widened, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes. "Come on, I'll show you," he said, motioning for you to follow him further into the house. The anticipation in his voice was contagious, and you felt a thrill of curiosity pique your interest.

As you walked through the hallway, the walls adorned with photographs and memorabilia hinted at stories and adventures shared within these walls.

He led you to a room at the back of the house, the door slightly ajar.

Inside, the room was warmly lit, and the first thing you noticed were two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, lounging comfortably on a plush armchair. Their curious eyes followed your every movement, as if they, too, were eager to see what Max had in store.

Just beyond the armchair, on a small table, you spotted a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates, elegantly arranged as if waiting for a special moment.

Max turned to you with a proud smile, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. "You mentioned you've never gotten flowers or chocolates from anyone, so I wanted to change that," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

The thoughtful gesture took you by surprise, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotion. Max's attention to detail and the effort he put into making you feel special spoke volumes, deepening the connection you felt with him.

"Oh Max, you shouldn't have," you muttered into your hands, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

The warmth of his gesture melted away any lingering doubts, leaving you with a soft, glowing sensation in your chest. Max's eyes softened as he watched your reaction, clearly pleased with the effect his surprise had on you.

The room seemed to shrink, the world outside fading away as you stood there, enveloped in a bubble of shared affection and understanding.

Max stepped closer, his voice gentle and sincere. "I just wanted to make you feel appreciated because you deserve it," he said, reaching out to gently take your hand.

The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself looking up into his eyes, feeling a connection that words could scarcely capture.

Overwhelmed by the depth of emotion his gesture had stirred within you, you found yourself stepping forward, wrapping your arms around Max in a heartfelt hug. His warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, it felt as though time had stopped.

Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, a spontaneous act that seemed to convey all the gratitude and affection words could not express.

Max's breath hitched ever so slightly, and when you pulled back, his eyes were shining with a mix of surprise and happiness.

He gazed at you with a softness that made your heart flutter, and it was clear that the moment had deepened the bond between you. "Thank you, Max," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "For everything."

Max smiled, a tender expression that spoke volumes, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly. The two of you stood there, silently promising each other that this was just the beginning of something truly special.

"I got you your favorite chocolates," Max muttered, a shy smile playing on his lips. You looked at him, puzzled.

"But they don't make them here?" you replied, confusion evident in your voice.

Max's smile widened as he watched the realization dawn on your face. "I had them specially ordered," he explained. "I know how much you love them, and I wanted to do something that would truly make you happy."

Your eyes widened in surprise as you processed his words. The effort and thoughtfulness behind his gesture left you speechless. "Max, I can't believe you went through all that trouble just for me," you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

He stepped closer, his hand still holding yours. "You're worth it," he replied softly. The sincerity in his eyes made your heart swell with gratitude and affection, solidifying the special bond that had formed between you.

Eventually, the two of you left the room and went to sit with each other on the sofa, leaving only a small space between you. The TV was on, but after ten minutes, neither of you was paying attention to it.

The quiet murmur of the show served as a background to your own thoughts and the unspoken emotions hanging in the air.

You glanced at Max, catching his eye, and he smiled softly, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment. It felt as if the world outside had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of newfound connection.

You decided to try Lily's theory. "Max, there is something on your face," you muttered, not waiting for him to respond as you cupped his face with your hand.

He blinked in surprise, a puzzled look crossing his features as you gently brushed your thumb across his cheek. "What is it?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's nothing," you replied, your eyes locking onto his. "I just wanted an excuse to be closer to you."

A blush spread across Max's cheeks, and he chuckled softly, the sound a mixture of relief and amusement. "You don't need an excuse," he murmured, leaning into your touch.

He closed his eyes and leaned against your hand, his breathing steady and calm. The warmth of his skin against your palm sent a comforting shiver down your spine.

You could feel the unspoken words that lingered in the air, the depth of emotions that neither of you had fully expressed yet. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a quiet understanding that spoke volumes more than any words could.

As the night wore on, the comforting presence of Max and the emotional weight of the evening began to take their toll. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, and before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep on the couch, cradled by the warmth of the moment.

The last thing you remembered was the gentle rise and fall of Max's chest beside you, and the soft hum of the TV creating a soothing lullaby.

When you awoke, the first thing you noticed was the lingering scent of Max on the throw blanket draped over you. It was a mix of his cologne and something uniquely him, a smell that brought an immediate sense of comfort.

You blinked, trying to shake off the grogginess, and realized that Max was no longer beside you.

The room was quiet now, the TV turned off, and a sense of emptiness replaced the warmth that had been there earlier. . . .

The long-anticipated day had finally arrived: Max's birthday celebration. Although Max had expressed a desire for a low-key gathering, his friends Lando and Charles had other plans.

They were determined to throw him a memorable bash, and before he knew it, you found yourself hailing a taxi to a trendy club that promised an extravagant night. As the city lights blurred past the window, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling within you.

What if Max didn’t enjoy the party? What if he felt overwhelmed? These thoughts raced through your mind as you approached the club, its vibrant atmosphere pulsating with music and laughter.

Stepping out of the taxi, you hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of uncertainty. The entrance loomed ahead, and the thrumming bass from inside made your heart race.

Just as you were about to gather your courage and walk in alone, you spotted a familiar figure leaning casually against the wall, seemingly lost in thought.

It was Max, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a hint of contemplation. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, and without thinking, you called out, "Max! What are you doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be inside celebrating?"

Your voice cut through the noise, and you watched as his expression shifted from one of mild annoyance to a bright, welcoming smile.

"I was waiting for you, of course," Max replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. The tension in your chest eased as he stepped closer, the warmth of his presence making the bustling club feel a little less intimidating.

"I thought I’d give you a chance to make a grand entrance," he teased, nudging you playfully.

You laughed, feeling the camaraderie between you two. "Well, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. I was just trying to muster the courage to walk in there," you admitted, gesturing toward the club.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "You know I’d never let you face this alone. Let’s go in together. It’s my birthday, and I want you to enjoy it as much as I do."

As you both stepped inside, the club's vibrant energy enveloped you. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting colorful patterns across the dance floor where people moved rhythmically to the beat of the music.

The air was thick with the scent of cocktails and the sound of laughter, and you could see Charles at the bar while Lando was being the DJ, waving enthusiastically as soon as he spotted you.

You made your way through the crowd with Max by your side, feeling a little more at ease with each step. As you approached the bar, Charles greeted you with a wide grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with their presence," he teased, his eyes darting between you and Max. "I was starting to think you two had run off for a private celebration of your own."

Max rolled his eyes playfully, nudging you with his elbow. "Oh, come on, Charles. You know we wouldn't miss your expertly mixed cocktails for anything," he retorted, reaching for a drink that Charles had just finished preparing.

You laughed, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as Charles gave you a knowing wink. "Just saying, you two seem pretty inseparable tonight,"

Charles added with a chuckle. "But I'm glad you're here. Now let's get this party started!"

As you navigated through the bustling crowd, you felt a warm sense of connection as Max's fingers intertwined with yours. It was a surprising gesture, one that felt so unlike the sober Max you knew, who typically kept his distance in social situations.

Yet here he was, leading you through the throng of partygoers with an air of confidence that seemed to defy his usual demeanor.

"Can you believe I actually agreed to this?" he chuckled, glancing back at you with a playful smirk.

You could see the hint of discomfort in his eyes, but he was trying to make the best of it, and you admired him for that.

Max had been thrust into the role of the gracious host, forced to thank each guest for attending his birthday celebration, even though he had made it clear he wasn’t keen on the idea of a party in the first place.

"Thanks for coming! It means a lot," he said, his voice dripping with a forced cheerfulness as he greeted a group of friends. You could see the strain behind his smile, and it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"You’re doing great," you whispered encouragingly, squeezing his hand tighter. He shot you a grateful glance, and for a moment, the weight of the party seemed to lift just a little.

As the night wore on, the inevitable questions began to surface. "So, are you two dating?" one of Max's friends asked, a teasing glint in their eye. Max's response was quick, a playful grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, absolutely! We’re planning a wedding next week," he joked, his tone light but his eyes darting to you for a reaction. You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at the thought. "Or maybe we’ll just stick to being best friends," he added, shifting the conversation away with a wink.

You felt a mix of amusement and affection for him, knowing that beneath the humor, there was a genuine bond forming between you two, one that was becoming increasingly hard to define.

You liked Max more than you cared to admit, and each shared smile or inside joke only deepened that feeling. His ability to switch from playful banter to genuine warmth made your heart flutter in ways you hadn’t experienced before.

Tonight, seeing him step out of his comfort zone for the sake of others, you admired his resilience and adaptability. It was a side of him you rarely saw, but one that made you appreciate him even more.

As the party continued, you found yourself gravitating towards him, drawn by an invisible thread of mutual understanding and unspoken feelings. Every touch, every shared glance, seemed charged with a new, electric energy.

You wondered if he felt it too, or if you were simply projecting your own hopes onto the night.

Either way, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant was unfolding between you, something that went beyond the confines of friendship.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself nursing a drink, careful not to indulge too much. The last thing you wanted was to wake up the next day regretting a bold confession of your feelings for Max.

The thought of revealing your heart to him sent a shiver down your spine, but the atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the tension building.

Lando, Charles, and a few others were gathered around, their laughter echoing through the room as they engaged in a lively game of truth or dare.

You were lost in your thoughts, contemplating the fine line between friendship and something more, when suddenly, a light tap on your shoulder jolted you back to reality.

“Hey, it’s your turn! Truth or dare?” Lando’s voice rang out, playful and teasing, pulling you from your reverie. You glanced around the circle, the eager faces of your friends urging you to make a choice.

“Um, dare,” you replied, a mix of excitement and apprehension bubbling within you. You felt a rush of adrenaline, as if the game itself was daring you to step outside your comfort zone.

Lando’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in closer, clearly relishing the moment. “I dare you to sit on Max’s lap for the rest of the night and kiss him,” he declared, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

Your heart raced at the suggestion, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The room fell silent for a moment, all eyes on you, waiting for your reaction. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and thrill coursing through your veins.

Max, sitting just a few feet away, looked equally surprised, his expression a blend of curiosity and amusement. “You heard him,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

With a deep breath, you made your way over to Max, your heart pounding in your chest. As you settled onto his lap, the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in that electrifying moment.

The laughter of your friends faded into the background as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his, igniting a spark that had been waiting to be unleashed.

Max immediately cupped your cheek with one hand, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through you, while his other hand rested on your waist, pulling you a little closer.

The connection between you was undeniable, a magnetic force that neither of you could resist.

His lips pressed against yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter, and for a moment, it felt as though time had stopped.

As you pulled back slightly, your eyes met his, and an unspoken understanding passed between you. The room erupted in cheers and applause, but their sounds were distant, muffled by the intensity of the moment you shared.

Max's eyes held a newfound softness, a hint of vulnerability that mirrored your own.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"Max, you're drunk. You don't mean that," you dismissed his words with a nervous laugh, though your heart was pounding even harder at his confession.

You tried to brush it off, convincing yourself it was just the alcohol talking, but the sincerity in his eyes made it difficult to ignore. Your mind raced, torn between the desire to believe him and the fear of what it might mean if he was telling the truth.

Max's hand remained on your waist, holding you in place as he shook his head slowly. "No, I mean it," he insisted, his voice steady despite the slight slur of intoxication.

"I've always felt something for you, but I never had the courage to say it. Tonight just gave me the push I needed."

The vulnerability in his gaze was unmistakable, and in that moment, you realized that perhaps the alcohol had simply loosened his tongue, allowing him to finally voice what had been in his heart all along.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his earnest eyes, and you felt a wave of emotions crash over you. "Max," you began softly, "I've felt it too, but I was always too scared to admit it."

His grip on you tightened slightly, a silent encouragement, and you continued, "Maybe we should talk about this when we're both sober, but I don't want to ignore what we're feeling right now."

"Will you say the same thing tomorrow?" Max asked, his voice tinged with fear. You could feel the weight of his question, the uncertainty that mirrored your own.

"I promise, I'll still feel the same," you replied softly, your heart hammering in your chest. "But let's give ourselves a chance to wake up and see if this moment is just as real in the light of day."

"Tomorrow, you might just earn yourself a girlfriend," you added with a playful smirk, trying to lighten the mood. Max's eyes sparkled with a mixture of hope and relief.

"Want to get a taste of her before the night ends?" you asked, leaning in closer.

The tension melted away as he pulled you into another kiss, this one filled with a newfound certainty. The world around you faded once more, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared emotions and possibilities.

"Get a room!" Lando yelled from across the bar, his voice cutting through the intimate moment. Max didn't miss a beat, raising his hand to give Lando the middle finger while still kissing you.

You couldn't help but laugh against his lips, the absurdity of the situation adding a light-hearted touch to the intense emotions swirling between you.

As you finally pulled away, both of you breathless and grinning, Max's eyes held a promise of tomorrow. "Let's get out of here," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

"I want to spend the rest of my birthday with you, just us." You nodded, your heart full and your mind clear for the first time in a long while.

Together, you made your way out, hand in hand, ready to face whatever the morning would bring. . . .

[onlyhyunjin]

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!

(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT

FALLEN STAR - @h5eavenly (A story of two hurt souls finding comfort within each other in the most unexpected ways.)(🔞)(♡)

OFF LIMITS - @yeonzzzn (your older brother has always told you “no boys” and his friends “sister is off limits”, which always worked…until everyone comes back home from college and you see how grown up his best friend has become…)

CHILLING AND KILLING - @yeonzzzn (ghostface Jake au) (♡)

SURPISE BABY - @alvojake (jake was deadset on making your birthday special even if that meant making you hang out with your friend until he was finished setting up his last birthday surprise.)

AFTER HOURS - @heesbaby (jake sim, bassist of AFTERHOURS and all round terrible guy, so deep in his self absorbed world where everything went his way and everyone fell at his feet. he hardly noticed you moving in next door until he caught a glimpse of you in the hallway. completely uninterested in your neighbour, you did you best to ignore his advances. that was until you found yourself humming along to the songs he practiced every night.) (♡)

WATERMELON SUGAR - @wonryllis (he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.)

MEET ME AT OUR SPOT - @jjunieworld (with the news of your grandma’s depleting health, life has you moving to your mother’s seaside hometown for the summer to your aunt’s. while there, you meet the illustrious player—jake sim—that everyone can’t seem to stop talking about. what you never expected was to gain his attention and spend the three months you’re there falling for him.)

BREAK THE ICE - @jaylver (Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss? )

NEW YOU - @sageryuri (all hell breaks loose when you, the heir to the throne, decides to run away to begin a new life. luckily, you experience a surprise encounter with jake sim, which brings upon freeing adventures and sprouts a taboo relationship between a princess, and a poor criminal.)

KIWI AND LAYLA - @asahicore (in which you mistake jake’s backpack for your own, making you each go home with the other’s bag. both of you are too curious for your own good, so you quickly find out that you excel in the subject the other is failing - a mutual tutoring agreement ensues, and it turns into much more than what you had expected.)

WEBS OF HURT - @jaylver (Falling for your best friend wasn't on your check list for high school. As if that wasn't enough to break your heart, his odd behaviour only added fuel to the fire along with a new crush of his. Who knew that odd behaviour would soon turn into a secret truth that you'd discover after his valiant effort of hiding.)

[entitled-fangirl]

Manhood. (P2)

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT

Summary: it's the morning after they consummated their marriage.

Part 1

Masterlist

A/n: Dare I say this could even have a part 3 cause I still have ideas for it???

.................................

The next morning, she was the one to wake up first. 

She yawned and stretched, the light from outside barely lighting up the room, signifying that it was still too early to begin the day.

She turned to Cregan who still laid fast asleep. His hair was a mess, a reminder of what they had done the night before.

Only then did she feel the dull ache between her legs. 

She sighed lightly and shuffled closer to the man. She gently brushed her lips against his. 

She let out a surprised squeak when Cregan kissed her back. 

The woman pulled away to see Cregan's lips pull into a wide grin, his eyes still closed. 

"Cregan…." She lightly reprimanded.

A soft chuckled rose from his throat and his arm reached out blindly until it found her waist and he pulled her as close to him as he could. "You'll have to forgive me, my love," he huskily whispered into her ear, "I'm only now recalling our late night adventure."

She hummed lightly, her cheek against his throat, "You recall it fondly, I hope?"

His grip on her waist tightened, "Very fondly."

She giggled and began to kiss his jaw.

He let out a small groan as the rest of his body began to stir awake at her touch and he finally opened his eyes, "So eager to go again?"

"I'd never leave this bed if we didn't have to," she admitted as she nipped at his ear. 

He pulled his head away to look at her, "we've a few hours at least. Let us use them wisely."

"You've grown rather bold overnight, my lord husband," she teased. "What happened to the meek man I slept with only yesterday?"

He chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "He now knows how pleasureful laying with his wife can be, and he's eager for more."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, "Is that so?"

His eyes took in her flushed state, "Only if you'll have me."

She was taken aback by his words, only to have it grow a boldness within her, "Gods, I'll have you in every lifetime, Cregan Stark."

He brushed his lips against hers, and the kiss grew hungry. 

Cregan reached down below the blankets with a steady hand and she gasps when his fingers brush against her clit. 

She pushed her upper body away from him, "Evil man…"

His thumb continued its movement against her, "Tell me what you want."

She swung a leg over his body and she forced herself on top of him. His grin only widened as she did so.

Once comfortable, Cregan began his movements again. She let out a curse under her breath at the feeling.

His other hand found her waist, rubbing soothing circles against her skin. "Taking me like this, sweet woman?"

"I intend to try," she finally admitted as she willed herself to do so.

She reached down and lined his thick cock up to her body, and began to lower her hips.

She lets out a small whimper and the new sensation, "It's too much. It's too much… I can't…"

The hands on Cregan's chest are trembling even though they don't hold any of her weight.

She's never been on top before, and it's getting to her.

Cregan reaches up and grabs her jaw, pulling her face down to his gently. His voice was a calm reassurance,"It's not. Look at me."

He waits until she does, "You know you can take it. You've taken it before. You're just panicking. Take a breath."

He watches her chest expand and contrast with a shaky breath. 

"Do it again."

He makes her continue this until he can feel her walls relax around him. 

"Good. You're doing good, sweet girl."

His hands go to her hips and gently push her further down on him more.

This time a moan leaves her lips instead. "Oh, gods…"

A string of groans leaves Cregan's lips when she begins to roll her hips. 

Judging by the confidence she just gained, they'll be doing this position more often.

"You complete me, my girl," he finally moans out as his hand moves to her clit again. 

The two move in tandem, as if they were truly made for one another. 

Completely drunk on pleasure, she lowers her upper body to his, desperately trying to capture his lips with hers.

He is quick to give in, letting her take anything she wanted. 

The kiss is messy and unorganized, gasps and moans interrupting it consistently, but the two didn't care. 

This new feeling was worth it.

"Only one w…" Cregan let out a stiff whine when she rolled her hips just right, "w… one woman for me, and it's you… gods, it's you."

He didn't last long, and neither did she, the two making a mess of the furs on their bedspread. 

She collapsed onto him, not bothering to pull herself off of him completely. He brushed a hand up and down her back comfortingly.

Once the two caught their breath, she interrupted the silence. "We still have time…"

......................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[phant0mth1ef]

was it casual when you told me you loved me?

-

how was it that everytime he’d managed to be within the same vicinity as you, you’d speed out of the room like you were iida’s long lost sister?

you’d known bakugou since kindergarten, the both of you surviving through grade school with the other by your side. as if you were hanging on and scared that he’d let go of you.

something shifted once you’d both hit middle school. you’d begun to gravitate away from him, as if you’d rather pretend that you’d never known him.

maybe that was why he got so cold towards people, maybe it was because the main constant in his life found a way to snake herself out of his grasp.

he’d never understood why you’d avoided him like the plague the moment you two made the leap from elementary to middle school. never understood why his best friend was suddenly too busy to hang out with him.

he’d ignored you throughout your years at ua, and to be completely honest, it wasn’t exactly like you were seeking him out either.

you’d never really had a valid reason for cutting him off so suddenly. i mean, he was the only person who’d stood up for you when people started laughing at you during class presentations. you were rather shy.

to be frank, you’d only really become his friend because he sought you out. you’d play in the corner by yourself, and he’d thought you were advocating for something at the time. looking back, it was kinda stupid of him.

so when he’d seen you again on the fateful first day at ua, it was like he was starstruck. you’d never been the type to want to be a hero. never had the heart to deal with all that fame or publicity.

you’d had the quirk for it. whirlwind. your body anticipates the movements of your opponents and reacts on its’ own. (killua core).

he’d ignored you for as long as he could. it wasn’t exactly like he’d have to see you on a daily basis. you were in class b. and although your heart ached for the boy, you didn’t want to see him either.

you’d remembered it like it was yesterday. you were at his house after your last day of elementary school, his parents threw a joint celebration dinner for the both of you.

your parents sat next to you on one side, bakugou sitting on the other. his grin was so big, you’d thought his face would freeze like that.

it was unexpected, you didn’t know what came over you.

“you excited for middle school with l/n, katsuki?” his mom had asked him as he shoved some noodles into his mouth, slurping them up quickly.

“yeah! i love y/n!”

looking back, it’s a stupid reason to be ignoring him. stupid reason to have ignored him for so long. maybe your feelings for him still lingered. he’d probably meant it platonically. but that was exactly the problem.

you’d never been one for confrontation, but you’d liked the boy for as long as you could remember. and it wasn’t like you were going to tell him that. so for you to hear him utter those words, it felt like you’d explode.

you’d quickly realized that he couldn’t have meant it. who would say it so openly?

so when class a & class b had a joint graduation celebration in your third year, how could you possibly avoid him?

you’d nearly argued with yourself in the mirror the night before while trying to muster up the courage to talk to him, but before you could even get a chance he’d appeared right in front of you.

your quirk wasn’t something you could shut off and on, it was a part of you that’d always be in play.

you’d jumped back about four inches, your body moving on its’ own.

“forgot you did that.” he’d smiled at you.

you’d been so distant, so cold. and yet he smiled at you.

“hi.” he’d grown softer over his time at ua, he wasn’t as angry as he used to be. maybe he just finally accepted that fact that you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore.

“hey.” you’d mumbled, walking forwards towards him until you stood two inches apart.

“how’ve you been?” you’d shrugged, your eyes haphazardly looking for anything to focus on but him.

“you’re still like that?” he questioned, you nodded slowly.

“guess so.” you mumbled.

“look, i just wanted to say that i’m sorry. dunno what it is that i did though.” that sparked your interest as you looked at him, taking in his features for the first time in years.

“you didn’t do anything. it was me. i took something the wrong way and i just-. i don’t know. i guess i was too nervous to rekindle our friendship?” you sighed, your arms at your sides unaware of what to do.

“what happened between us?” the million dollar question.

“s’stupid now.” you’d smiled, a cup of punch in your hand.

“c’mon. follow me.” he turned around, looking back to see if you were following him before you took your first steps towards him.

he’d lead you to a couch, you’d sat down next to him, a few inches of comfortable space in between the two of you.

“what happened?” he’d asked again, laying down comfortably against the fabric of the couch.

“i’m telling you, it’s dumb.” he sucked his teeth in annoyance.

“you said you loved me. before middle school started. like i said, looking back now it was stupid of me to cut you off because of that. it was platonic and i know that now.” you’d avoided his eyes once more, scanning over every head in the room to make sure they weren’t staring at you.

“wasn’t stupid. i wasn’t lying. wasn’t platonic either.” you’d shot straight up.

“i didn’t know how else to tell you. i was just a kid, y’know. didn’t think i should’ve been having such big feelings at that age.” his gaze softened, scanning over how much you’d changed over the years.

“you’re telling me this as we’re about to graduate?” you huffed, annoyance in your voice as he snickered.

“not like your dumbass ever gave me a chance to explain myself!” he’d countered, staring at you.

by now he’s leaned in, your quirk determining that the best course or action was for you to do the same thing.

and so, you kissed.

@cvnt4him tried my best to place parts of your request into this <3

[sgt-tombstone]

When Johnny asked Simon to come home with him on leave, he had never expected… this.

Johnny’s flat in Glasgow was a tiny thing, barely large enough to fit one, much less two massive soldiers. They made it work well enough, as long as neither of them minded being constantly wrapped up in each other, always within reach, and neither of them did. Their last mission had gone to hell in a heartbeat, and the 141 were lucky to be alive; Price had sent them all home on mandated medical leave, and Simon and Johnny were taking full advantage of the time off base to reacquaint themselves with each other being present and tangible and alive.

That didn’t change the fact, though, that his flat was only slightly larger than a postage stamp, which was fine for a few days, but he had sensed Simon getting antsy, feeling caged in, and had suggested visiting his parents for a couple of days, if only to get out of the house. It wouldn’t be any less oppressive—the MacTavish family was massive and overbearing on the best of days—but it would offer some reprieve from the near-constant contact and the stifling city.

Which was how Johnny found himself staring down at his lieutenant, his partner, curled up on his back on his parents’ couch, fast asleep, a green dinosaur stuffed animal clutched against his chest.

It didn’t look particularly comfortable; Simon was too tall, his legs too long, to be able to stretch out completely, so his knees were hiked up, his socked feet flat against the cushioned armrest. His neck was at an odd angle, resulting in his chin nearly touching his own shoulder, his unmasked cheek squished slightly where it was pressed against the leather. And the stuffed animal…

Johnny had bought it as a gift for one of his nephews, a toddling bairn who had struggled with nightmares, and the shopkeep who sold it to him had assured him that the little beads in the dinosaur’s tummy would provide enough weight to be a comfort without being dangerous. Evidently, his nephew had taken one look at Simon Riley and decided that the scarred soldier needed it more than he did.

Both of Simon’s arms were wrapped around the soft toy, squishing it against his chest, rising and falling with every slow, deep breath. He looked at peace in a way that Johnny hadn’t seen him look in a long time. They had spent the day surrounded by fussing family members and babbling children, their attentions split between warm homemade meals and whatever trinkets had caught the toddlers’ interest. Johnny would’ve felt bad; he was long used to his family’s antics, had grown up surrounded by siblings and cousins and extended relatives. But Simon had taken to it like a duck to water, effortlessly shifting focus from one person to another, treating each with equal sincerity and devotion, the same way he did in the field. It had been a delight to watch, especially when his mam and sisters had taken advantage of Simon’s distraction to shoot Johnny knowing glances.

“Gonna stand there all night, sergeant?”

Johnny startled, not enough to move, but enough to send his heart rate skyrocketing. He recovered quickly though, too well trained to do anything else. Simon hadn’t moved, hadn’t even opened his eyes, and it would’ve unnerved him if he hadn’t spent the last two years cementing himself as a permanent fixture in Simon’s life and, therefore, becoming incredibly used to his partner’s uncanny sense of perception. Even, apparently, while asleep.

“Just wonderin’ if Gaz’d ever believe me if I told him, sir.”

“Take a picture,” Simon grumbled, his voice deep with sleep. “It’ll last longer.”

Johnny snorted a quiet laugh, already imagining the look on his fellow sergeant’s face. He didn’t pull his phone out, though, just like Simon knew he wouldn’t. These moments were for the two of them alone, raw and bare and soft.

“Let’s go to bed, love,” he whispered, reaching out to run his hand through Simon’s hair. It was tangled from the grasping of tiny, fisted fingers throughout the day (Johnny’s nephews had never seen blond hair before and, as such, had been absolutely enraptured by Simon’s head of golden hair), and he didn’t mention the way Simon pushed into his hand, seeking touch and warmth like a cat. He also didn’t mention the way Simon continued to hug the stuffed animal to his chest as he unfurled his long legs, stretching slightly, his knees popping, before drawing himself up to his usual towering height. His eyes were half-lidded with sleep, soft in a way he rarely allowed himself to be, the green dinosaur tucked safely in his arms as he followed Johnny upstairs.

In a week, they will be back on base, back to their tactical gear and their sidearms and their razor-sharp focus. They will be shipped out to some foreign soil, either sweltering heat or numbing cold, either dry deserts or soaking rainforests, and blood will be spilled, probably their own, definitely their enemy’s. They will once again be hardened soldiers, products of war, and there will be no room for such softness. Which was why Johnny reveled in the way Simon curled around him now, in a bed two sizes too small for two muscular men, a warm blanket blocking out the worst of the Scottish chill, a green weighted dinosaur stuffed animal clutched in two massive arms against an equally massive chest.

He tucked his nose against the nape of his partner’s neck, one arm thrown over Simon’s hip, and drifted off to the quiet sound of breathing, of comfort, of peace.

[ama0310]

Silver Springs (S.R)

Character: Spencer Reid

Requested: No

Type: Angst

Summary: A chance encounter during a murder investigation forces Spencer to confront his past when he comes face-to-face with Y/N, his ex-girlfriend and new victim, rekindling old feelings and tensions.

AN: It's basically Daisy Jones & the Six meets Criminal Minds type of vibe.

"Another day, another case."

Spencer Reid had grown accustomed to the relentless pace of his work with the BAU. Evil, it seemed, never took a day off.

This explained why he now found himself en route to interview the latest victim, accompanied by Morgan.

Four murders in two weeks, and the body count showed no signs of slowing. All signs pointed to a disturbing connection within the music industry. The first two victims were singers, their vocal cords savagely ripped out. The third, a guitarist, had his hands severed. The most recent victim, a band manager, had his eyes gouged out in a grotesque display of violence.

As they walked briskly down the bustling Nashville street, Morgan voiced his frustration. "I can't wrap my head around why each murder was so different. It's like we're dealing with a completely new MO each time."

Reid's brilliant mind was already piecing together the puzzle. "Actually, there's a twisted logic to it," he explained, his words tumbling out rapidly. "Each mutilation corresponds to the victim's role in the industry. Singers silenced, a guitarist robbed of his ability to play, and a manager blinded, unable to oversee his clients. The unsub is targeting what makes each victim valuable in their profession."

"Do we know who we're meeting?" Reid inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Morgan nodded, consulting the notes from their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. "Her stage name is Y/S/N, twenty-six years old. She's the lead singer of a band called The Springs. The band's manager reported an attempted abduction last night. She fits our victim profile perfectly: female, location in Nashville, related to a band. This is our first witness, Reid. She could be our key to catching this guy."

As they entered the recording studio, a frazzled assistant greeted them. "Hi, I'm Cary, the manager's assistant. Thank you so much for coming! Jason has been a nervous wreck. Please, follow me."

Morgan took the lead, his FBI credentials at the ready. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We need to speak with Y/S/N as soon as possible."

Cary nodded, guiding them towards a red door. With each step, the muffled sound of music grew louder, and a hauntingly beautiful voice became clearer.

"The band is actually recording their latest song right now," Cary explained in a hushed tone. "You'll need to be quiet, but the manager will brief you further."

As they approached the studio, the lyrics washed over them:

Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me

A chill ran up Reid's spine. Something about that voice tugged at his memory, but before he could place it, he collided with Morgan's back.

A man stood before them, his face etched with worry. "Thank you for coming. I'm Jason, the band's manager. I wanted to take her straight to the police station, but she insisted on—" His eyes widened in recognition. "Spencer?"

Reid froze, suddenly face-to-face with a ghost from his past. "Uh, hi?" he managed, his usual social awkwardness winning again. How does one greet their ex-girlfriend's best friend after years of silence?

Morgan, sensing the tension, stepped between them. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We're here to speak with Y/S/N."

Jason's eyes darted between the two agents, his expression hardening. "Actually, I'd prefer if he wasn't here," he said, gesturing to Reid. "No offense, but I don't think it's wise for either of you to cross paths again."

Morgan, though confused by the unexpected connection, maintained his professional demeanor. "With all due respect, Dr. Reid and I work as a team. We both need to speak with Y/S/N to conduct a thorough investigation."

As the two men argued, Reid's gaze drifted to the recording booth. Through the glass, he caught sight of the band, and his breath caught in his throat. There, at the microphone, stood a face he thought he'd never see again—a face that to this day still haunts his most amazing dreams. 

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance

The lyrics pierced through Spencer Reid's carefully constructed walls, flooding his mind with memories he'd long tried to suppress. He was transported back to a time when life held more than just case files and criminal profiles—a time when he had someone to come home to, when he felt truly free rather than trapped within the labyrinth of his own brilliant mind. A time when he and Y/N L/N couldn't imagine a life without each other.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

Despite his best efforts, Spencer's heart threatened to burst from his chest, yearning to reunite with its other half. For that was what Y/N had been—his perfect complement. They had met when she was seventeen and he was nineteen, initially friends until, two years later, they could no longer deny the intensity of their feelings.

Their love had been a force of nature—intense, pure, raw, and undeniably real. Until life's cruel realities came knocking at their door.

Y/N was a free spirit, driven by her passion for music. She'd twirl until dizzy, her long hair a wild tangle, singing until her voice grew hoarse. Music moved her in a way nothing else could.

Meanwhile, Spencer was on the cusp of graduating from the FBI Academy, with whispers of a fast-track position in the prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Two paths diverging, leading to an impossible choice.

He did what he thought he had to do, breaking things off for both their sakes. He had run the probabilities, analyzed every scenario, and a happy outcome seemed frustratingly out of reach. They wanted different things, or so he had convinced himself.

That fateful night was seared into his memory. Y/N was about to leave for New York to meet with a record label—an opportunity that Jason, her best friend and now manager, had excitedly relayed during their date. Spencer saw the yearning in her eyes, the spark of a dream about to be realized. And so, he made the agonizing decision to end things.

Her tears, her desperate pleas, her hands clutching at him as he walked away—it all haunted him still.

Was I just a fool?

I'll follow you down 'till the sound of my voice will haunt you

Spencer watched, transfixed, as Y/N sang in the recording booth. She swayed to the rhythm, smiling at her bandmates, lost in the music. Everything about her still captivated him. Their relationship had been a bittersweet dream he never wanted to wake from.

Give me just a chance

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you

He stood rooted to the spot, oblivious to Derek's hand on his shoulder or the sudden silence as the band stopped playing. Then, Y/N turned towards the glass, and their eyes met for the first time in years. The world seemed to stop spinning.

Her gaze flicked to Jason, her expression morphing into a glare as she mouthed, "What the fuck?" The spell broken, she grabbed her bag and bolted through the back door.

Everyone sprang into action. Jason was the first to follow, with Derek close behind. Spencer remained frozen until his partner turned him around.

"Look, I don't know what history you have here," Derek said, his voice laced with concern and confusion, "but we have a job to do. If you can't handle this, go wait in the car. If you can, let's move." He pressed the car keys into Spencer's hand before chasing after Jason.

Against his better judgment, Spencer followed. A selfish part of him needed to be near her, even if it meant causing more chaos.

As he approached, he heard Y/N's voice, sharp with anger and pain. "I don't give a fuck if he's the president of the goddamn country. I'm not speaking to him. So you can either throw them out or let me leave."

Spencer rounded the corner to see Y/N already in her car, engine running, poised to flee.

"Look, Miss," Derek began, his voice firm but empathetic, "we can't let you go. You're the only survivor of this serial killer. If you don't talk to us, more people will die. Is that something you can live with?"

Jason, his arm still through the car window, pleaded with his client. "Come on, Y/N. You and I both know they're here to help. Let's get this over with, and then we can get you out of state within hours. This is for your safety and the safety of others."

Y/N's gaze flickered between her manager, the new agent, and Spencer, who was approaching hesitantly. With a heavy sigh and her heart in her throat, she turned off the ignition and moved to open the door, forcing Jason to step back.

"Get me a whiskey and a glass of milk," she demanded, grabbing her purse and striding back into the building without a glance at the agents.

Jason turned to Derek, his expression grave. "I strongly advise against having him there," he said, nodding towards Spencer. "As you can see, it won't end well if he's present."

Derek, still loyal to his partner, bristled at the suggestion. "And I advise you not to tell an FBI agent how to do his job. We've got it from here." He turned to Spencer, concern evident in his eyes. "Is he right? Should I listen to him?"

"No. I'm fine," Spencer insisted, though his tense posture suggested otherwise.

"And what about her?" Derek pressed, before noticing Carly, the assistant, anxiously tapping her foot nearby.

"She's in room 24, waiting for you," Carly informed them, pointing towards a door. "Um... good luck!"

As they entered the room, they found Y/N and Jason in the midst of a heated discussion.

"Everything alright?" Derek intervened, causing Y/N to roll her eyes dramatically.

"Yup, everything's perfect!" Jason's forced cheerfulness was palpable. "You guys can have a seat. I'll be right outside." He looked at Y/N sternly. "Be good. And tell them everything, please."

"Yes, Dad," Y/N replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she took a sip of whiskey. Once Jason left, she glanced between Derek and Spencer. "Well, are you going to sit down, or are we having a stand-up interview?"

Derek motioned for Spencer to sit beside him, both agents studying the woman before them. Y/N held a cigarette in one hand and whiskey in the other, while a glass of milk sat on the side table—an odd combination that spoke volumes about her state of mind.

"I'm Agent Morgan, and I believe you know Dr. Reid," Derek began cautiously. "We just have a few questions about what happened to you yesterday."

Y/N took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly before tapping it on the ashtray. "And what exactly do you want to know, Agent?"

Spencer cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Jason mentioned you survived a failed abduction. Can you walk us through what happened?"

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze fixed on Spencer with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. "We finished recording one of our songs yesterday, and the band wanted to go out for drinks. I was still hungover from the night before, so I decided to sit that one out." She took a gulp of whiskey, chasing it with milk in a bizarre ritual. "I stayed in the studio for a few hours, just writing. Around three a.m., I decided to head back to my hotel. I'd parked two blocks away, and as I approached, I noticed someone loitering near the parking lot entrance."

"Did you engage with him?" Derek interjected, earning an eye roll from Y/N.

"I'm not fucking stupid," she snapped. "I walked past as quickly as possible. He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him. Guess he didn't appreciate that, because the next thing I knew, he was behind me, trying to force a plastic bag over my head."

The room fell silent as the gravity of her words sank in. Spencer leaned forward, his analytical mind already piecing together the details. "Can you describe the attacker? Any distinguishing features, voice, or mannerisms?"

Y/N's eyes locked with Spencer's, a flicker of their shared past evident in her gaze before she quickly looked away. "He was tall, probably six feet or so. Muscular build. I didn't get a good look at his face, but his voice..." She paused, taking another drag of her cigarette. "His voice was deep, with a slight Southern drawl. Not local, though. Maybe Texas or Oklahoma."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "How did you manage to escape?"

They could see Y/N physically reliving the traumatic experience, her leg bouncing with increasing anxiety. The calm facade she had maintained began to crack under the weight of her memories.

"Hey, it's okay," Derek said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time."

For a moment, Y/N seemed to relax, but just as quickly, her emotional walls snapped back into place. She crushed out her cigarette and downed the rest of her whiskey in one swift motion.

"I'd heard about the murders before," she began, her voice steadier than her trembling hands. "Even before that, I always carried a pocket knife and pepper spray. Call it paranoia or just good sense in this industry." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "I managed to scratch his left arm before kicking him. When he loosened his grip, I turned and pepper-sprayed him. Then I just... ran. Got to my car and drove straight hotel. That's when I called Jason."

Derek leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "And you didn't think to call the police?"

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger. "I wanted to forget about it," she snapped. "I was planning to leave anyway. Sometimes denial feels safer than facing reality."

"Yet you still came in to record a song right after that?" Spencer's quiet question drew her attention, earning him a look that was equal parts resentment and something harder to define.

"I have a job," Y/N replied, her tone clipped as she turned back to Derek. "We have an album coming out soon, and we needed to finish recording. We love working in Nashville, so yes, I wanted to get it over with and then leave. Music... it's always been my escape."

Spencer cleared his throat, treading carefully. "Can you describe anything else about him? Any details you remember?"

Y/N's gaze softened almost imperceptibly as she looked at Spencer. "I think he was wearing a blue sweater, but I'm not certain." She paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. "What I do remember clearly is his smell. It was... odd. Like scented candles, the kind you'd find at Bath & Body Works. It was strangely out of place, but unmistakable."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "Alright, thank you for your time, Y/N. Here's our contact information if you remember anything else or need assistance." He stood, extending his hand, which Y/N shook briefly. As he walked to the door, he noticed Spencer hadn't moved. "Spencer?"

Spencer glanced between Derek and Y/N, who was now staring at him intently. "Give me a second," he said quietly. "I'll meet you at the car."

Derek hesitated, giving Spencer a questioning look. The younger agent's eyes pleaded for understanding, for a moment alone with the woman who had once meant everything to him. With a slight nod, Derek acquiesced and left the room.

As the door closed, the air grew thick with unspoken words and years of regret. Spencer and Y/N sat in tense silence, neither quite ready to bridge the chasm between them.

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, I... I'm sorry. For everything. I know it doesn't change anything, but I need you to know that."

Y/N's carefully constructed mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of the pain she'd been carrying for years. "Why now, Spencer? After all this time?"

"Because I never stopped caring," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "And seeing you in danger..." He couldn't even finish that sentence. "Please, promise me you'll be careful. 

Y/N studied him for a long moment, conflict evident in her eyes so she does what she does best. Ignore it.  "Congratulations are in order, Mr. FBI," Y/N said sardonically, reaching for another cigarette. The acrid smell of tobacco filled the air, a scent that brought back a flood of memories for Spencer.

"Smoking causes about 90% of all lung cancer deaths," he recited, unable to stop himself. "More women die from lung cancer each year than from breast cancer." It was an old argument, one they'd had countless times before.

Y/N took a long, deliberate drag, exhaling slowly as if to challenge his statistics. "We're all meant to die one day, Spence," she said, her voice tinged with a familiar fatalism. "I always told you that."

Indeed, she had. It was her motto, her way of justifying living life to the fullest, consequences be damned.

"I thought you quit," Spencer said softly, his eyes fixed on the glowing ember of her cigarette. "When did you start again?"

"A few months after my twentieth birthday," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. "The record label signed us, and suddenly we went from doing a few covers a week to churning out originals every month. Needed a stress reliever."

Spencer studied her, noting the way she avoided his eyes. There was more to the story, he was certain. "Y/N/N," he said gently, using the old nickname that once came so easily to his lips, "are you okay?"

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Why would you assume I'm not?"

"Well," Spencer began, slipping into his analytical mode, "you drank that whiskey rather quickly. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you're flushed—signs of prolonged alcohol consumption. The fact that you're willing to record and drive in this state suggests it's become a habit. And then there's the cigarette addiction. So, naturally, I'm concerned about your well-being."

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words and years of separation. Y/N broke first, standing abruptly and grabbing her purse. "I've told you what you needed to know," she said, her voice brittle. "I have to leave. Hopefully, Jason's already arranged my flight out of here."

As she turned to go, Spencer's hand shot out, catching her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through both of them—a spark of electricity, familiar yet now terrifyingly foreign.

Y/N's eyes traveled from his hand to his face. "Let go, Spencer," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

He couldn't. Not yet. Not when he'd finally found her again, when there was so much to explain, so much unfinished between them. But he also knew that Derek would come bursting through the door at any moment.

With reluctance, he released her wrist and pulled out a post-it note and pen from his bag. Hastily scribbling his number, he held it out to her. "Take it. Please. If you need anything—and I mean anything—call me, okay?"

Skepticism clouded Y/N's features. Did he really expect her to take his number, to even consider calling him after everything?

Seeing her hesitation, Spencer pressed on. "Look, Y/N, I know you have every reason not to trust me, to want me out of your life. But please, give me a chance to prove that I'll be there for you. We'll catch the guy who attacked you, and if you need help with anything else, anything at all, come to me. Please."

Y/N stared into his pleading eyes. A part of her recognized his sincerity, but the wounded 20-year-old inside her still ached from old betrayals.

With a resigned eye roll, she snatched the note from his hand and left without a word, leaving Spencer rooted to the spot.

As she passed a trash can in the hallway, Y/N paused, the note burning a hole in her hand. For a moment, she hovered on the brink of tossing it away. But something—sentiment, curiosity, or perhaps a stubborn refusal to let go—made her slip it into the back pocket of her jeans instead.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

The lyrics of her song echoed in Spencer's mind as he watched her go. And in that moment, he realized with startling clarity that he didn't want to get away. Not anymore. Not ever again.

As Y/N disappeared from view, Spencer was left alone with the lingering scent of her perfume and cigarette smoke, and the weight of years of regret. He knew that solving this case was now about more than just catching a killer—it was about second chances, redemption, and the possibility of healing old wounds.

With a deep breath, he steeled himself to face Derek and the investigation ahead, all while knowing that the most challenging case of his life might just be winning back the trust of the woman he'd never stopped loving.

Author's Note: I absolutely love Silver Springs. I belt it out all the time lol. I also was obsessed with Daisy Jones & The Six when it came out. Used to read a lot of those fanfics.

Also let me know if y'all want a part 2.

Thank for reading!

[blog-o-meter]

Room To Breathe - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) and Nicholas’s relationship thrives despite the pressures of his work, but as the demands of his career escalate, (Y/N) starts to make small sacrifices that soon begin to pile on.

warnings: 18+, fingering, exhibitionism, binding, hair pulling, spanking, choking, biting, established relationship, dom/sub

required listening: Enjoy The Silence by Depeche Mode

word count: 29,523

a/n: yall this one rlly took so much out of me, im gonna have to take a break and really think abt what i can write for the next part ☠️ Maybe what i can do is instead of writing long parts with overarching plots, i can do little vignettes into their lives? idk pls let me know!! i would love to discuss, crying emoji

Room 5 (Part 1) | Making Room (Part 2) | Room On Fire (Part 3)

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

It all felt like a dream at first. How couldn’t it? After years of losing myself in the fictional worlds of books and movies, wondering what my own life would be like if I were one of those characters, I suddenly found myself thrust into a whirlwind story of my own.

Within the past year, I’ve managed to do more things than I had done in a lifetime — one of those things having been following my boyfriend, Nicholas, to New York to see where what the world might have to show me outside the confines and expectations of my home, of what my mother told me my life should be like, of what I had grown accustomed to.

The cold air hit me first when we landed, but it was the weight of the city — the noise, the lights, the people — that left me breathless. Never did I picture myself becoming one of the countless droplets of water in the sea of strangers that was New York.

I felt Nicholas’s arm wrap around my waist as I stared out to the twinkling buildings in that moment, kissing my temple, the hot breath leaving his nostrils and enveloping my face in a visible whisper that left just as quickly as it appeared. “Thank you for coming back with me,” he whispered into the shell of my ear and rubbed my sides, warming me up.

I had been so overwhelmed with emotion then, scared but hopeful of the journey that lied ahead, that all I could then was lean into his touch and plant a soft, thankful kiss on his lips. I’d hoped it could convey all the words that were lodged at the back of my throat, what I couldn’t let out. Nicholas, the one I’d do anything for, understood completely, gently taking my hand then and leading us to the taxi that would take us to his rented apartment in the city.

That night, he was in no rush to share me with anybody else just yet. The city hummed outside, alive with a pulse that felt both foreign and thrilling, but inside the one-bedroom apartment, it was just us in the stillness. The world outside could wait.

His apartment wasn’t anything fancy like a double-height artist’s loft. In fact, it reminded me a lot of his apartment back in Los Angeles — functional but modestly stylish. It was just a little impersonal, as though it was waiting for someone to truly settle in and make it a home. And Nicholas did. There were stacks of scripts strewn about the coffee table, each of them with different color sticky notes sticking out of them, some open and written all over. There was a jacket or two draped across the brown leather sofa. And his gym bag was left forgotten near the front door, some dirty clothes spilling out of the top.

What had amused me the most were the types of art hanging on the exposed brick walls. They looked like cheesy 1980s watercolors, like the ones you’d find now in a roadside motel or the art section in a Goodwill. Clearly, Nicholas hadn’t picked them out. They clashed with the otherwise neutral, understated decor of the space, their bright, pastel hues seeming almost comical.  But that was what made this space feel so temporary, like a stage set ready to be dismantled at a moment’s notice.

Nicholas helped me in removing my coat, carefully peeling it away, “Are you feeling takeout or home-cooked tonight?” He asked with a small smile.

I hesitated, looking around the apartment as I tugged my scarf down, hanging it on a hook by the door. The question was simple, but as I looked outside the large windows, out to the endless lights, I couldn’t help but feel the unspoken weight behind it. To him, the question was just about what food I wanted. To me, the question was about whether I would let myself fall completely into this new bustling city or continue to seek the comfort of my home.

I smiled softly, turning back to him. “Takeout,” I finally said, my voice steadier than I expected. “Something easy on the stomach.”

Nicholas nodded, his face lighting up with that easy grin that made my heart squeeze. “Takeout it is,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

I watched him for a moment as he scrolled through options, his brows furrowing slightly in concentration. It was such a small thing, but it grounded me — this reminder that even amidst the chaos of the city, there were still simple, familiar routines. Like ordering takeout on a bitter cold night in.

While he ordered, I took my luggage and wandered further into the apartment, letting my fingers trail over the back of the leather sofa. The soft creak of the material under my touch was oddly comforting, a tactile reminder that I was here, in this moment, in his space. My fingers traced over every surface it passed as I made my way over to Nicholas’s bedroom, setting my luggage down on the ground and kneeling before it.

Oddly enough, the ritual soothed me. I knew that by unzipping my luggage that it meant I could slow down and lord knows I needed that right now. I started to pull out all the items I needed for the night — my pajamas, my toiletries. I smoothed out the fabric of my pjs as I placed them on the edge of the bed, my fingers brushing against the soft linens. Surprisingly, Nicholas’s scent still lingered faintly in the room, even after being out of town for two weeks. It was a small comfort amidst the unfamiliarity of the city outside.

As I zipped my bag shut, I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind me. I turned to see Nicholas leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually but his gaze warm and intent. He had peeled away his jacket and kicked off his shoes, and the sight of him like that, relaxed but still impossibly put-together, sent a flicker of warmth through me.

“Food’s gonna be here in twenty minutes,” he said, his voice low and easy.

I nodded, turning to face him, and was met with that boyish grin that still managed to catch me off guard every time. “Good,” I said, my voice lighter now. “I’m starving.”

His eyes flicked to the neatly folded pajamas on the bed, and a small smile tugged at his lips. He stepped closer, the faint creak of the floorboards under his weight breaking the silence, and pulled me up off the floor, his hands resting on my waist. “Settle in, ok?”

I felt my cheeks warm at his words, a flutter of something indescribable sparking in my chest. Indeed, I did have to settle in. This wasn’t just a weekend getaway. I had basically just moved in with my boyfriend of 10 months until further notice. The realization hit me as softly as his touch: this was it. This was my life now. The thought should have been daunting, but with Nicholas standing so close, his presence steady and reassuring, it felt… manageable. Maybe even exciting.

I nodded, murmuring in agreement as I let myself lean into him for a moment. His hands didn’t leave my waist, and I felt the faint press of his thumbs moving in lazy circles over the fabric of my sweater. It was a small gesture, but it grounded me, just like everything else about him seemed to.

“Okay, I’ll go shower in the meantime,” I spoke softly, my lips growing into a smile. I quickly kissed Nicholas and reached for the stuff I had laid out on the bed.

As I gathered my things, Nicholas’s hand brushed lightly against mine before he let me go, his warmth lingering even as I stepped away. There was something so natural about the ease in his movements, the way he leaned against the doorframe for just a moment longer before turning back toward the living room. It was a rhythm I was beginning to recognize, one that felt like it could become our own.

The bathroom was small but functional, with tiles that had seen better days and a mirror slightly fogged at the edges. It wasn’t glamorous, but it didn’t need to be. I turned on the shower, letting the steam rise and fill the room as I carefully laid my toiletries on the counter. The sound of water rushing was calming, a momentary escape from the whirlwind of thoughts that had been swirling in my mind since we’d left my house.

As I stepped under the hot stream, the tension in my shoulders began to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of calm. The warmth seeped into my skin, soothing the chill that had clung to me from the cold air outside. I let my mind wander, focusing on the simple act of washing away the day, and allowed myself to relax for the first time this entire day.

By the time I finished, the air in the bathroom was thick with steam, and my skin was warm and flushed. Wrapping a towel tightly around myself, I quickly dried my hair just enough to stop the water from dripping down my back, then slipped into my pajamas — a soft, oversized sweater and a pair of tight shorts.

I stepped back into the bedroom and caught the faint scent of food drifting through the air. I padded into the living room, where Nicholas was sitting cross-legged on the floor, unpacking containers of takeout and arranging them neatly on the coffee table. He looked up when he heard me, his smile easy and genuine, and motioned for me to join him.

“Food’s still warm,” he said, his tone light, as if everything about this moment was perfectly normal. And maybe it was — maybe this was what normal could look like for us now.

I sank down beside him, the smell of spices and soy sauce making my stomach growl. We ate together in comfortable silence at first, the clink of chopsticks against plastic containers punctuating the quiet. Then, little by little, the conversation started to flow — lighthearted jokes, stories from the flight, musings about the city outside the window. I caught him stealing glances at me between bites, his soft smile warming the space more than the radiator ever could. I teased him lightly, nudging his leg with my foot, and he laughed, the sound low and intimate in the small apartment. It was a simple meal, but it felt special in a way I couldn’t quite articulate. It reminded me of our time in Los Angeles, except we were 10 months older now, maybe just a tiny bit wiser, and it was winter in New York.

After we finished eating, Nicholas tidied up, gathering the empty containers and bringing them to the kitchen. I stayed on the floor for a moment, letting the contented haze settle over me before standing and wandering back to the window. The cityscape was mesmerizing, the lights reflecting against the glass like a living mosaic. My fingers rested lightly on the icy cold glass, sending a titillating chill up my spine. My breath fogged a small patch of the window as I leaned closer to take it all in.

Outside, the city stretched out endlessly, its lights twinkling like a thousand tiny stars in reverse. It was overwhelming and beautiful all at once, the sheer scale of it reminding me just how small I was in the grand scheme of things. It was so different from the quiet, predictable streets I had grown up on. It was intimidating and exciting all at the same time. I then felt Nicholas’s presence behind me, his warmth steady and grounding, and suddenly I didn’t feel so small.

He wrapped his arms around me, pressing a kiss against my temple. “You’ve been staring out there a while,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. His lips brushed against the curve of my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine despite the warmth that surrounded us.

I leaned back into his chest, letting his presence anchor me as my fingers lingered on the glass. The cold from the window contrasted sharply with the heat of his body, making the moment feel even more electric. My breath hitched slightly as his hands slid from my waist, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path over my hips.

“It’s mesmerizing,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, more to myself than to him. The city lights below sparkled like a never-ending galaxy, but all I could focus on was the way his touch sent waves of warmth through me, grounding me amidst the chaos outside. Suddenly, a cheeky grin grew on the corner of my lips. “Can that building across the way see us?”

Nicholas chuckled softly behind me, his lips brushing against the curve of my neck as he tightened his arms around me. “Probably,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the vibrations sending a thrill down my spine. His fingers trailed along the waistband of my shorts, deliberate but unhurried, as if daring me to push the moment further. “Does that bother you?”

I bit my lip, my gaze flickering between the glittering lights of the city and the faint silhouettes visible through the neighboring windows. The thought of being seen—of this intimate moment being observed by strangers—made my pulse quicken, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness coursing through me. “I don’t think I care. They seem so small,” I admitted, turning my head slightly to catch his gaze in the faint reflection on the glass. “What about you?”

Nicholas smirked, his eyes darkening with the kind of confidence that made my knees weak. “I think I can handle it,” he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. His hands slid lower, settling firmly on my hips as he pressed his body closer to mine. The steady rhythm of his breathing against my back only heightened the tension simmering between us.

The city outside seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat, the lights blurring slightly as I leaned my head against him. “Then do it,” I said, my voice bolder than I felt. “Right here. Against the window.”

For a moment, everything stilled. The air between us grew heavy, charged with the weight of my words. Then Nicholas’s hands tightened their grip on my hips, his fingers digging in just enough to send a spark of anticipation through me. “Are you sure?” he asked, his tone serious despite the clear hunger in his eyes.

I turned my head to glance at him, the smirk on my lips matching the fire in his gaze. “Absolutely.”

He smiled against the apple of my cheek, kissing the corner of my eye. “Whatever you want, baby,” he whispered, his hand splayed across my tummy and pushing me closer to him before letting his hand venture downward.

Nicholas’s movements were deliberate, every touch an unspoken promise. The anticipation coiled tightly in my stomach as his lips found the sensitive spot just below my ear, brushing featherlight kisses that made my breath hitch.

“Keep your eyes on the city, ok?” he murmured against my skin, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down my spine.

The words sent a flush of heat through me, pooling low in my belly as I pressed my palms flat against the window. The city lights twinkled below, an endless expanse of life and movement, but the only thing I could focus on was the tension building between us, the way his hands molded to my body like he was memorizing every curve.

His fingers found the hem of my shorts, teasing the fabric upward before slipping beneath, tracing slow, deliberate circles against my throbbing self. I exhaled sharply, my breath fogging the glass in front of me. Nicholas’s other hand slid up my sweater, his fingers grazing my nipple, setting fire to every nerve he touched.

I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears, echoing the rhythm of the city below. His fingers tugged my shorts down with agonizing slowness, the cool air against my thighs only heightening the heat radiating between us. The fabric pooled at my ankles, forgotten as he gripped my ass and pressed his hips against mine, pinning me lightly to the glass.

Nicholas’s hands roamed my body with purpose, one tracing the curve of my spine while the other dipped lower, coaxing soft gasps from my lips. He shifted behind me, his movements deliberate and slow, his body heat engulfing me as he leaned in closer. The glass was cold against my flushed skin, but Nicholas was everywhere else, his warmth, his strength, his presence anchoring me.

As his hand traveled further down, a quiet cry escaped me as I felt him insert his fingers inside me. Instinctively, I fluttered my eyes shut at the sensation and threw my head back onto Nicholas’s shoulder, whimpering.

“Nonono,” he spoke softly, carefully using his other hand to turn my chin back toward the window. “Keep looking out,” he whispered, his voice strained but full of control.

I obeyed, my gaze fixed on the sprawling skyline. The city stretched before me like an infinite tapestry of light and movement, a living, breathing thing that seemed to pulse in time with my rapid heartbeat. The glass beneath my palms was cool and unyielding, grounding me even as Nicholas’s touch sent me spiraling into a haze of sensation.

“Do you see it?” he murmured against my ear, his voice low and rich.

I fought back a moan, mustering up my energy to answer him. “I see it,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Nicholas smiled against my skin, his lips brushing lightly over the curve of my neck. “Good,” he murmured, his voice a blend of satisfaction and restraint. He continued to thrust his fingers, the wet sound and our breaths filling the space. “All of that…”

The city stretched before me, an endless canvas of glittering lights and moving shadows, but it was Nicholas’s voice grounding me, his words weaving into the hum of the city.

“It’s yours,” he said, his voice low and rough, a quiet command. His hand pressed against my lower stomach, his fingers inside me moving in a rhythm that felt synchronized with my pulse.

I pressed my forehead against the glass again, my breath creating soft, foggy patches that quickly faded. The cold surface was a sharp contrast to the fire building within me, and I couldn’t help but arch into Nicholas’s touch. His other hand traveled up, resting lightly on my shoulder before trailing down my arm, his fingers brushing against mine as they flattened against the window.

“Keep your hands there,” he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of my ear. “I want you to feel how far you’ve come, how high up you are right now.” His lips trailed down the side of my neck, and I shivered at the mixture of his warmth and the cool air brushing against my skin.

Each point of light blurred and sharpened as my focus shifted, but Nicholas never let me forget where I was. His hand moved from my stomach to tilt my chin up gently, guiding my gaze higher toward the horizon. “That’s all out there for you,” he whispered.

His words sent a rush of heat through me, tangling with the tension he built with his touch. I wanted to answer, but my voice caught in my throat, replaced by a soft moan as his fingers curled inside me, hitting a spot that made the world outside blur completely.

“Focus, baby,” he said, his voice both gentle and teasing. “Eyes on the city.”

I forced myself to steady my breath, to anchor my gaze on the skyline as Nicholas continued his deliberate rhythm. For a moment, I felt as though I were floating above it all, weightless and untouchable. The glass beneath my palms seemed to hum with the energy of the city, and I let that energy flow through me, blending with the pleasure Nicholas was building in waves.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with reverence. His free hand slid around to my waist, holding me steady as he pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder. “You don’t even realize it yet, do you? How strong you are. How beautiful.”

I whimpered softly, his words pushing me further toward the edge. My reflection in the glass caught my eye, and for a moment, I saw myself as Nicholas seemed to see me — powerful, vibrant, alive. The flush in my cheeks and the wildness in my gaze mirrored the city’s intensity, and I felt a surge of something unfamiliar but thrilling: pride.

“Nicholas…” I managed, my voice breathless, more of a plea than a statement.

“I’ve got you,” he replied instantly, his hand tightening on my hip, his voice filled with steady reassurance. “I’ll always have you.” He kissed the side of my neck, his lips soft and deliberate, as though he were trying to leave a mark that went deeper than skin.

His touch grew more insistent, the tension inside me coiling tighter and tighter until I thought I might shatter. My eyes stayed locked on the skyline, the city’s pulse becoming my own, the boundary between me and the world outside blurring until there was nothing but light, heat, and movement.

And then, with one final, deliberate motion, Nicholas sent me spiraling. My body trembled against the glass as I cried out softly, my fingers curling into fists against the cold surface. The city outside seemed to explode with light, the skyline shimmering in my vision as every sensation crashed over me in waves. Nicholas’s hands stayed firm on my body, grounding me as I rode the high, his quiet murmurs of praise and reassurance the only sound that broke through the haze.

When I finally stilled, my breathing ragged and my legs trembling, Nicholas wrapped his arms around me fully, pulling me back against his chest. He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering as though sealing the moment.

“You’re amazing,” he said softly, his voice filled with awe. “Never forget that.”

I let my head rest against his shoulder, my gaze drifting back to the skyline. The city still pulsed with life, but now it felt like a part of me, as though I’d claimed it, made it my own. And with Nicholas’s arms around me, his warmth and strength anchoring me, I knew I could face whatever came next.

And for a while I did.

While Nicholas started filming again, I still had a few days left of my holiday break before having to start remotely. I took advantage of that time to venture out into the city and explore places around the neighborhood. I didn’t keep track of time as I walked, letting my curiosity guide me. There was something freeing about having no responsibilities, at least not yet, in such a big city.

The neighborhood was a mix of old-world charm and modern chaos. Brownstones lined the quieter streets, their stoops decorated with potted plants that defied the winter chill. On the busier avenues, cafes and boutique shops jostled for space, their windows fogged up from the warmth inside. I ducked into one of them—a tiny coffee shop with mismatched furniture and the faint smell of cinnamon in the air.

The barista greeted me with a smile, and for a brief moment, I felt like a regular, as though I’d been here countless times before. I ordered a tea and found a spot by the window, watching the city outside. The people rushing by were a mix of hurried professionals, bundled-up families, and tourists clutching guidebooks. I sipped my coffee and let the scene wash over me.

The streets became less intimidating, their rhythm familiar as I mapped them in my mind. I passed a bookstore with a worn wooden sign hanging above the door, its display filled with second-hand novels that begged to be explored. A florist’s shop caught my eye, the bursts of color behind the glass a stark contrast to the gray skies outside. I promised myself I’d return to both places soon.

I stumbled upon a small park nestled between two buildings, its trees bare but still beautiful against the backdrop of the city. I sat on a bench for a while, letting the sounds of New York surround me — the distant honk of car horns, the chatter of people passing by, the hum of life moving forward.

By the time I returned to the apartment, Nicholas would already be home, sprawled out on the couch with a script in hand, his face lighting up the moment I’d walk through the door.

“How was your day?” he asked, setting the script aside as he stood to greet me. His arms wrapped around me, and I leaned into his warmth, the familiar scent of him instantly soothing.

“Perfect,” I said honestly, looking up at him. “I did so much,” the excitement in my voice was palpable as I removed my jacket and sat back down on the couch with Nicholas to tell him all about my day.

And that routine of me out exploring as if I had all the time in the world would continue through to the day I had to start work again, but I didn’t let that stop me.

I balanced my work with the thrill of exploring the city, and it felt like I had struck gold. My remote job gave me the freedom to pick any spot in New York as my office for the day. One morning, it was a cozy little café with. The next, it was a seat by the window at the bookstore, surrounded by the faint smell of old paper and whispers of passing customers. I was productive, inspired even, with the city humming around me like a constant companion. It felt like I had the world at my feet.

But the novelty didn’t last.

Soon, the bustling energy that had initially fueled me started to feel more like a distraction. The noise of steaming espresso machines and the chatter of strangers became harder to tune out. I’d catch myself staring out of the window for too long, watching people live their lives, while my own tasks piled up. Deadlines started to feel tighter, and my focus waned.

I decided to shift gears and work from home, thinking it might help. Nicholas’s apartment was quiet during the day while he was filming, and I figured I could finally focus without interruptions. At first, it was a relief. I didn’t have to worry about finding a seat in a crowded café or whether my laptop battery would last. I could just settle into the small desk in the corner of the apartment and get things done.

But that relief was short-lived, too.

The walls of the apartment that had once felt like a cozy retreat now felt confining. I’d look out the window and see the city stretching endlessly before me, a living, breathing organism, and I’d feel trapped. The hours bled into each other as I worked, the vibrant city outside reduced to background noise. I began skipping lunch breaks, telling myself I’d make up for it by exploring in the evenings, but by the time Nicholas came home, I was too drained to go anywhere, and so was he.

I started to dread opening my laptop in the mornings. The notifications blinking on the screen felt like tiny weights dragging me down. Projects that once felt manageable became daunting, and my to-do list seemed to grow faster than I could check things off. I’d sit at the desk for hours, the same desk where I’d once felt so confident about this new chapter in my life, and stare blankly at the screen. The apartment was silent, save for the occasional hum of the radiator or the muted sounds of the city filtering in through the windows.

Working remotely had sounded like a dream when I first took the job — freedom, flexibility, the chance to be anywhere in the world. But in practice, it had become suffocating. Without colleagues nearby to chat with or a change of scenery to break up the day, my motivation dwindled. The tasks blurred together, and the once-rewarding feeling of completing something gave way to an unrelenting sense of monotony.

The hours ticked by slower and slower. The same four walls that had once felt comforting now loomed over me, oppressive and inescapable. I would take breaks to stretch or make a cup of tea, but even those moments felt hollow. Quickly, I started to associate the apartment with work, and that was a dangerous concoction. I tried to convince myself it was just a phase, that I’d adjust, but the stress began to pile up.

Days started to blur together, and the isolation crept in slowly, like a shadow at the edges of my days. I’d hear the faint laughter of neighbors in the hallway or the hum of life outside the window and feel an ache in my chest. I was in one of the most exciting cities in the world, but I felt like I was missing out on everything. While the world moved at a breakneck pace outside, I was stuck behind my laptop, the glow of the screen my only connection to the world. Thankfully, though, I always had weekends off, which gave way for me to decompress for a day or two, until the cycle started again.

The city started to feel colder, too.

At first, the cold made me feel alive. I had loved the way it nipped at my cheeks as I walked briskly through the streets. The sharpness of the wind felt cleansing, like it was carving out a new version of me. The scarves and coats were comforting, a cocoon of warmth against the chill. I’d sip on steaming cups of coffee, the heat blooming in my hands as I watched the puffs of my breath mingle with the city air.

And the snow… Oh, the snow was so magical. I hadn’t seen snow since I was 4 years old. It was the first time it had snowed in my hometown in over 20 years. It wasn’t many inches, but It was enough to build a mud-covered snowman with grass sticking out of all the wrong places, and I enjoyed it all the same. So one night, when it started to snow while I was out exploring, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I quickly took as many photos and videos as I could, excitedly texting Nicholas what was happening. The snow was so romantic.

But over time, the cold began to wear me down.

It crept under my skin, turning the once-refreshing breeze into an icy bite that seemed to settle in my bones. The excitement of bundling up in layers gave way to frustration as I struggled with stiff zippers and gloves that never seemed to warm my fingers enough. Every trip outside felt like a chore, the gusts of wind slicing through my resolve. My lips became perpetually chapped, no matter how much balm I used, and my nose stung from the relentless chill.

The gray skies that had once seemed moody and poetic now felt oppressive. My skin craved the sun. The early sunsets cast the city in shadows before I’d even finished my work for the day. By the time I’d look up from my screen, the world outside would already be dark, the streets glistening with half-melted snow or slick patches of ice. Walking anywhere became a careful, hesitant shuffle, my focus on avoiding a fall instead of taking in the sights.

Even inside, the cold lingered. Nicholas’s apartment, though cozy, was drafty in places, and no amount of blankets seemed to chase away the chill that settled in the corners. I found myself sitting closer to the radiator, my legs tucked under me as I worked, but the heat felt suffocating after a while. It wasn’t the same warmth that had felt so romantic in those first few days — it was stale, stifling, like a reminder of how much time I was spending indoors.

The cold became another reminder of what I was missing. It made the city feel distant, uninviting. I’d scroll through photos online, seeing people from back home smiling and even enjoying the beach whenever the cold front would die down, basking in sunlight. Sometimes, I swore I could feel the warmth of my hometown kiss me through the screen.

One day, as I sat at the desk in the corner of the apartment, the pale winter light filtering through the window, I realized I hadn’t left the apartment in three days. The thought hit me like a slap, and I felt an overwhelming wave of guilt and frustration. This wasn’t who I wanted to be. I had come to New York for adventure, for a fresh start, for a life that was bigger than the one I had left behind. But the cold — the relentless, biting cold — had made me retreat into myself, had turned the city into something to be endured rather than embraced.

I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and grabbed my coat. The air outside was as harsh as ever, the wind cutting across my face the moment I stepped onto the sidewalk. I pulled my scarf tighter and shoved my hands deep into my pockets, forcing myself to walk down the block. The city was alive, bustling even in the dead of winter, but I felt disconnected from it, like a spectator watching through frosted glass.

I paused at the edge of the park I had visited when I first arrived, the one where the bare trees had seemed so starkly beautiful. Now, the branches looked brittle, almost lifeless, their dark silhouettes clawing at the gray sky. I shivered and turned back, heading home.

By the time I reached the apartment, I was exhausted — not from the walk, but from the effort it had taken to force myself out. Nicholas wasn’t home yet, and the apartment felt colder than ever despite the radiator hissing softly in the corner. I sank onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, and stared out the window at the city lights blinking in the distance.

And as much as I tried to immerse myself in the city, I couldn’t shake the loneliness of not knowing a single face. In my hometown, I had grown used to the small, comforting interactions that peppered my day: nodding at neighbors as I walked to my car, chatting with the barista at my regular coffee shop, bumping into an old high school friend at the grocery store. There was a familiarity to those moments, a feeling of being seen, of being part of a community.

Here, in New York, I felt invisible.

The sheer number of people I passed each day was staggering. Mornings were a blur of anonymous faces rushing to catch trains or hurrying into office buildings. Even when I ventured out during the quieter midday hours, the streets were still crowded. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to be, their focus fixed on their phones or their destinations. I had never seen so many people in one place, and yet I had never felt so alone.

When I first arrived, I found it exciting. The anonymity was freeing, in a way. I could be anyone, do anything, and no one would judge or remember. But as the weeks turned into months, that same anonymity began to feel like isolation. The faces blurred together, no longer individuals but part of the endless churn of the city.

It struck me one day as I sat in a café near the apartment. I watched a couple laughing over their coffee, their heads close together as they shared a joke. Across the room, a group of friends was chatting animatedly, their laughter cutting through the soft hum of conversation. And I realized I hadn’t had a conversation like that in weeks. Outside of Nicholas and the occasional video call with my family or coworkers, my interactions had dwindled to transactional exchanges: ordering food, paying for groceries, a polite thank-you as I stepped off the subway.

The truth was, I missed belonging. I missed walking into a place and being recognized. I missed the easy smiles of people who knew my name, the warmth of a community that had roots as deep as mine. In New York, I felt like I was floating — untethered, unnoticed, and unconnected.

And so, I retreated further into myself. The more I stayed inside, the harder it became to step out. The vibrant, bustling city that had once seemed so full of possibility now felt like a labyrinth I couldn’t navigate. The faces I passed each day became a blur, and I stopped looking at them altogether. It was easier that way, less painful than acknowledging how distant I felt from it all.

And then there were the days where Nicholas brought his work home with him, and I’m not talking about scripts. I started to notice it in small ways at first — the way Nicholas’s shoulders slumped just a little lower when he walked through the door, the slight hesitation before he smiled at me, the faraway look in his eyes even when we were talking.

And as the days turned into weeks, it became harder to ignore. He would come home later than usual, his scripts tucked under his arm and his face shadowed with exhaustion. Sometimes he’d sit on the couch, staring at the wall for what felt like hours, his expression unreadable. Other times, he’d go straight to the bathroom without a word, locking the door behind him. When I knocked to ask if he was okay, he’d tell me he was fine, his voice steady but distant.

I knew he wasn’t fine. I knew something was weighing on him, pulling him deeper into a space I couldn’t quite reach. And as much as I wanted to give him the space to process whatever he was going through, I couldn’t help but worry. Yes, I had known his filming was gruesome, but now that I was here in person, I had a chance to see how it actually was for him.

One night, after he’d come home particularly late, I decided I couldn’t just sit back and watch him unravel anymore. He had barely said a word to me since walking through the door, his body language tense and closed off. I waited until he’d gone to the bathroom to wash up, then quietly followed, knocking softly on the door before pushing it open.

“Nicholas?” I called gently, stepping into the bathroom. He was sitting on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands, his shoulders trembling slightly. My heart clenched at the sight.

He didn’t look up, but he didn’t tell me to leave, either. Taking that as permission, I knelt in front of him, placing my hands on his knees. “Hey,” I said softly, my voice steady even though my chest felt tight. “Talk to me.”

He finally looked at me, and the pain in his eyes hit me like a wave. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, understanding more than I could put into words. “Will you let me take care of you at least?”

He didn’t protest as I gently guided him to stand, helping him out of his shirt and pants before leading him to the tub. I turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was warm but not too hot, and added a few drops of lavender oil to help him relax. As the tub filled, I helped him settle into the water, his body sinking into the warmth like he was finally letting himself breathe.

I then removed my own clothes and slipping myself behind him. I grabbed a washcloth and soap, carefully lathering it before running it over his shoulders and back. He didn’t say a word, but I could feel the tension slowly melting away under my touch. I worked methodically, washing away the day’s weight as though I could scrub away the darkness that lingered in his mind.

When I was done, I set the cloth aside and poured warm water over his hair, my fingers massaging his scalp as I worked shampoo into a lather. His eyes fluttered shut, and for the first time in weeks, I saw a hint of peace on his face.

After the bath, I helped him dry off and led him to bed, where I wrapped him in blankets and held him close. He curled into me like a child seeking comfort, his head resting on my chest as I stroked his hair. I whispered soothing words, telling him how proud I was of him, how much I loved him, how strong he was. He didn’t respond, but his breathing evened out, and I felt his body relax against mine.

I cradled him late into the night, my arms never loosening their hold. And I would lay there awake for hours, sometimes into the early morning, listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling the steady beat of his heart. I would lose sleep over him, secretly praying that everything would turn out ok for him with his movie. And that ritual — bathing Nicholas, massaging out his stress, and cradling him at night while I lay awake, my eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep — would become the normal for a few days out of the week.

Still, as much as all the stress weighed on me, I refused to let it show when Nicholas came home. He didn’t deserve to carry my burdens on top of his own, especially when he had been nothing but supportive and kind. Every evening, I made a conscious effort to push aside the heaviness I felt and greet him with a smile. I didn’t want him to think I regretted following him to New York, because I didn’t — not for a second. This was a choice I had made with my whole heart. It was just… a lot. A big change that had happened so fast.

When I heard the sound of his key in the lock, it was like a switch flipped inside me. I’d smooth my hair, check my reflection in the mirror, and take a deep breath. No matter how drained or lost I felt during the day, I wanted him to come home to the same warm, loving partner he had left that morning. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel like he’d uprooted my life for nothing.

“Nicholas,” I’d call out brightly as he walked through the door, his arms full of whatever groceries or takeout he had picked up on his way home. “How was your day?”

He’d smile at me, the weariness in his eyes fading just a little at the sight of me. “Better now,” he’d say, letting out a tired sigh and setting everything down before pulling me into a hug. His arms wrapped around me like a shield, his warmth seeping into me as if he could chase away all the cold, both inside and out. Then, I’d remember that this hug was my favorite part of the day.

And there were so many moments like that — little things that made it all feel worth it, even when the weight of it all threatened to pull me under.

Like the nights we’d spend on the fire escape, bundled up in blankets with mugs of hot chocolate, looking out at the city lights. Nicholas would point out random buildings or make up stories about the people living inside them, his imagination as vivid as ever. “See that one?” he’d say softly, a little tiredness behind his voice from a day’s work, gesturing to a window with a faint glow. “That’s where the writer works. He’s been stuck on chapter three for weeks, but tonight’s the night he finally figures it out.” I’d laugh, the sound echoing into the crisp night air, and for a moment, it felt like the city was ours alone.

Or the Sunday mornings when we’d sleep in, the world outside quiet for once. I’d wake up to find him already awake, his hand lazily tracing patterns on my back. “Good morning,” he’d whisper, his voice warm and soft, and I’d bury my face in his chest, reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth we’d created. We’d eventually drag ourselves out of bed and make pancakes in the kitchen, the smell of batter and syrup filling the small apartment as music played faintly in the background.

There were spontaneous adventures too. Like the time he surprised me with tickets to a Broadway show. “You can’t live in New York and not see a show,” he’d said, his grin mischievous as he handed me the tickets. I’d been hesitant at first, unsure about braving the crowded theater, but the moment the curtain rose and the actors took the stage, I forgot all my worries. Nicholas held my hand the entire time, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, and I found myself tearing up — not just at the story unfolding before us, but at the realization that I was living one of my own.

Even the quieter moments carried their own kind of magic. Like when we’d sit side by side at the kitchen table, him going over scripts while I worked on my laptop. The sound of his pencil scratching against the paper was oddly soothing, a steady rhythm that grounded me. Every now and then, he’d glance up and catch me staring at him, and his lips would curve into that boyish grin that never failed to make my heart skip a beat.

Then there were the rare evenings when he’d come home early, his arms full of groceries. “We’re cooking tonight,” he’d announce, refusing to let me lift a finger as he clumsily attempted to recreate a recipe he’d found online. The kitchen would inevitably end up a mess, with flour on the countertops and sauce splattered on the stove, but the laughter we shared made it all worth it. And somehow, the food always tasted perfect, even when it didn’t look like it.

Or the absolutely unforgettable sex we’d have. Like the time we had hooked up in the back of a town car on the way home from a rare fancy date during a particularly long stretch of traffic.

It had started innocently enough—just the two of us basking in the afterglow of an amazing night out. Nicholas had pulled out all the stops for the evening: a dinner reservation at an exclusive restaurant with dim lighting, soft music, and impeccable food, followed by drinks at a rooftop bar that offered a breathtaking view of the city. We’d laughed and flirted like it was our first date, the world outside momentarily forgotten.

By the time we slid into the backseat of the car, my cheeks were flushed from both the cocktails and the way Nicholas had been looking at me all night. His hand rested on my thigh, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. At first, it was casual — fingers tracing lazy circles as we chatted about the night. But as the traffic crawled to a halt and the hum of the city surrounded us, the air between us shifted.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered something that sent a shiver down my spine. I turned to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and filled with mischief, and before I could respond, he closed the distance, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was anything but innocent. It was slow and deliberate, his hand sliding higher up my thigh as he deepened the kiss. The privacy partition was up, and the driver was oblivious to what was unfolding in the backseat.

I gasped as his lips trailed down my neck, his stubble grazing my skin in a way that made my toes curl. “Nicholas,” I whispered, half a plea and half a warning, though I wasn’t entirely sure what I was warning him against. He grinned against my collarbone, his hands firm as he pulled me onto his lap, the constraints of the small space forgotten as he claimed every inch of my attention.

“You’re irresistible,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. His hands roamed over my body, exploring as though he hadn’t memorized every curve a hundred times before. The lights of the city flickered through the tinted windows, casting shadows that danced across his sharp features, making him look even more devastatingly handsome.

I lost myself in him, in the way his lips moved against mine, in the quiet moans and gasps that filled the confined space. My dress slid higher, his hands moving with a confidence that made my pulse race. There was something thrilling about the moment — the intimacy of it mixed with the possibility of being caught, though I trusted Nicholas to keep everything discreet.

The world outside faded into a blur of lights and sounds, the only thing grounding me being the way his hands gripped my hips, the way he whispered my name like a prayer. Time seemed to stand still, and by the time we arrived at the apartment, I was breathless and flushed, my legs weak as we stumbled inside, unable to keep our hands off each other. It was wild, passionate, and completely us.

It was moments like those — the laughter, the warmth, the passion, the way he made even the most mundane things feel special — that reminded me why I had chosen this life. Why I had chosen him. After 10 months of long distance dating, this was all I ever wanted, to finally be able to have those moments in person, not through a screen. The stress, the loneliness, the cold — all of it faded into the background when I was with him. It was enough to just take it one day at a time. To hold onto the moments of warmth and connection we shared, even as the world outside felt colder and farther away. And when Nicholas kissed me goodnight, his voice soft as he told me he loved me, I told myself that alone was worth all of the stress.

Then, I saw a flash of light at the end of the tunnel.

Nicholas and I were lounging around at home, a rare moment of calm between his long days on set and my own struggles to find balance. The radiator hummed softly in the corner, the apartment dimly lit by the warm glow of a single lamp. Nicholas was sitting flipping through his script, his brow furrowed in concentration, while I laid across the couch with a book above my face, my head on his lap, stealing glances at him every so often.

His fingers absentmindedly traced small patterns on my scalp, his touch gentle yet grounding, like he was tethering himself to me without even realizing it. It was one of those rare, quiet moments where the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of us, a fragile bubble of calm amidst the chaos of our lives.

I wasn’t really reading. The words on the page blurred together. Instead, I stole glances at him, watching the way his brows knit together as he read his script. His lips moved faintly, mouthing lines as his pencil tapped against the armrest in a rhythm only he seemed to know. There was something captivating about seeing him like this — focused, immersed.

When he set the script down, I caught the way his shoulders eased, the tension melting away as he leaned back and let out a soft sigh. His tired smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and I felt a pang in my chest—love mixed with a deep ache for how hard he’d been working. 

His eyes met mine, warm and searching, as his hand brushed over my hair, fingers lingering for a moment before he spoke. “Guess what?”

“What?” I asked, pulling my book down and resting it on my tummy, giving him my full attention.

“Tomorrow’s the last day of filming,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of relief and excitement.

The words last day of filming hit me like a wave, and I could feel my heart swell with relief and joy for him. It was as though a curtain had been drawn back, revealing a glimpse of light after what felt like an endless stretch of shadow. He had been living with Patrick Bateman for months, carrying the weight of him, and I had seen how it had drained him piece by piece. But now, with just one more day to go, he was almost free.

I straightened up, my heart skipping a beat. “Really? That’s amazing, Nic!”

He smiled, reaching for my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me tomorrow. Be there for the last day of filming. And there’s a wrap party right after. I want you there for that, too. To celebrate,” he brushed his thumb across my jaw.

It wasn’t just about finishing the movie. It was about closing a chapter that had consumed so much of him, and having me there to witness it felt like a quiet, profound honor. Of course, I couldn’t deny the invitation.

My heart swelled, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, I felt a flicker of excitement that wasn’t tinged with worry. “I’d love to come,” I said, smiling up at him.

His face lit up with relief and joy, and he pulled me into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around me like he was anchoring himself. “Thank you,” he murmured against my hair. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

I hugged him back just as tightly, feeling a weight lift from my chest.

The thought of seeing him on set, of finally understanding the world he’d been killing himself for, filled me with anticipation. It wasn’t just curiosity; it was a deep-seated desire to understand the world that had consumed him entirely. I wanted to see the passion that drove him, even when it seemed to break him at times. And the wrap party… well, it felt like the perfect way to close this chapter.

I hugged him back just as tightly, feeling a small weight lift from my chest.

The next day, I had woken up before Nicholas. Truthfully, I was so anxious that I could barely sleep a wink. I’m not sure why I felt anxious; maybe I was just anxious for Nicholas. He looked so peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily, the tension he carried during his waking hours nowhere to be found. It made me ache to think of how much weight he’d been carrying, how much he’d given of himself to this role.

Today was his last day, and I wanted it to start with something good, something grounding. I slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb him. 

In the kitchen, I busied myself with breakfast, trying to shake off the restless energy that had kept me up most of the night. Pancakes seemed like the perfect choice. I whisked together the batter, the sound of the metal bowl and the sizzle of butter in the pan the only noise in the stillness. As I worked, I kept glancing at the clock, counting down the hours until we’d be on set.

By the time the pancakes were stacked high on a plate, golden and steaming, and the coffee brewed, I felt a little more settled. I set the table, placing everything just so, even adding a few berries and a drizzle of syrup to make it perfect. It was small, but it was something I could do for him, a way to remind him of the ordinary joys that existed outside of the roles he played.

When Nicholas finally emerged from the bedroom, his hair tousled and his movements slow with sleep, the sight of him softened me instantly. He rubbed at his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips as he noticed the table. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his voice warm and raspy.

“I wanted to,” I replied, pulling out a chair for him.

He chuckled softly as he sat down, the sound low and genuine, and for the first time in a long time, I saw a flicker of lightness in him. As we ate, we didn’t talk much — just the occasional comment about the pancakes or a murmured thank you. But it was enough. The quiet was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need filling. Anyway, he still had a few more hours of being in that Bateman state of mind.

After breakfast, we both got ready, the routine familiar but laced with a quiet excitement. Nicholas dressed with care, slipping into a plain shirt and jeans. I opted for something understated, not wanting to draw attention to myself on set.

The car ride to the studio was quiet, his hand resting on my thigh as he gazed out the window, lost in thought. I didn’t press him to talk, sensing he needed the silence. As we pulled up, I felt a strange mix of awe and apprehension. The sprawling set was alive with activity, the air buzzing with anticipation for the final day of filming. Nicholas led me inside, his hand never leaving mine as he navigated the maze of departments and equipment.

First, he led us to the makeup department. The makeup department was a world of its own — a small, brightly lit space filled with mirrors surrounded by bulbs, shelves crammed with powders, brushes, and palettes of every shade imaginable. A team of artists buzzed around, their hands steady as they worked their magic on cast members. Nicholas greeted them with a quiet hello and a tired but genuine smile, clearly at ease in this environment, introducing me to the team that had been helping me transform for the past few months.

He led me to an empty chair in the corner, a spot out of the way where I could sit and observe. “I’ll just be a few minutes, baby,” he murmured, squeezing my hand before letting it go and taking his place in the main chair.

I watched as one of the makeup artists set to work, her hands quick and confident as she transformed Nicholas into Patrick Bateman for what would be the last time. The precision was mesmerizing. She worked on his hair, slicking it back until it gleamed under the lights, and applied the makeup that would give him that unnervingly perfect, plastic look. I couldn’t help but marvel at the detail, the way every brushstroke seemed to chip away at the Nicholas I knew and replace him with someone else entirely.

It struck me then, how much of himself he had to give away to embody this character. Every morning, he sat in this chair, shedding his own identity piece by piece, only to reclaim it at the end of the day. How exhausting that must be.

Once the transformation was complete, Nicholas turned to look at me briefly, his face now Bateman’s, his expression unreadable. He stood and caught my eye, his lips quirking into a small smile, almost as if to say, I’m still here.

“How do I look?” He asked, playfully cocking an eyebrow.

I stifled a chuckle, “Killer.”

Proudly, I took a few pictures of him to remember this momentous day. Perhaps he could use it in a photo dump on Instagram. He nodded toward the door, and I followed him back out into the bustling set.

The soundstage was even more chaotic now, filled with crew members shouting directions, adjusting lights, and moving equipment. Nicholas navigated it all effortlessly, exchanging brief greetings and pats on the back as we made our way to the scene they’d be shooting. I stayed behind him, not wanting to intrude, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from darting around, taking in every detail.

This was his world — the world he had worked so hard to be a part of, the world that demanded so much of him. Watching it unfold in real time felt like being let in on a secret, a glimpse into something sacred and grueling all at once.

The set was meticulously crafted, a cold, sterile replica of an upscale Manhattan apartment. The kind of place Patrick Bateman would inhabit — minimalist, sleek, and devoid of warmth. I stood behind a huddle of what I assumed to be assistant directors and the like watching from some monitors, my thumping out of my chest.

As they called for quiet on set, the noise of the soundstage faded into a tense hush. Nicholas stepped into the scene, his demeanor shifting entirely. It was immediate, like watching a mask fall into place. He moved differently now — stiffer, deliberate, exuding a calculated charm that was distinctly Bateman’s. Nicholas, as Bateman, was seated at a sleek, sterile desk under harsh lighting, his suit crisp and tailored, his tie knotted perfectly — a stark, menacing red. The man I had eaten pancakes with this morning had disappeared, replaced by a predator in a suit. The transformation was startling, even though I’d seen glimpses of it before. But here, in the heart of his performance, it was terrifyingly real, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

As the camera rolled, Nicholas leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the desk, his fingers steepled together. The moment Nicholas opened his mouth, the air shifted. His voice was measured, almost dispassionate, as he delivered Bateman’s chilling words:

“I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip. My nightly bloodlust has overflowed into my days. I feel my pulse quickening, my senses heightening as if I’m plunging into a void… and I’m afraid. Afraid that this is all there is. The numbness, the emptiness.”

The words hung in the air, stark and unrelenting. Nicholas delivered them with precision, his tone devoid of remorse but brimming with a chilling self-awareness. It was unsettling how easily he embodied Bateman’s descent, how his voice carried a weight that felt too personal.

“There is no catharsis,” he continued, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on some unseen point beyond the camera. “I gain no deeper knowledge of myself. No new depths are uncovered. I am simply not there. And I have to wonder… does anyone else see it? Or are we all just… pretending?”

My stomach twisted as I listened. The words felt like they resonated beyond the character, striking a chord I wasn’t prepared for. The loneliness in Bateman’s confession, masked by his indifference, echoed something I’d felt in the past few months — the struggle to connect, to feel like I belonged.

As he continued, Nicholas’s delivery sharpened, his voice rising ever so slightly as the monologue neared its end. “This confession has meant nothing,” he said, the finality in his tone like a door slamming shut.

Luca, the director, yelled, “Cut,” and the tension broke. “That’s a wrap!”

The room erupted into applause. Crew members cheered and clapped, some even whistling, but I stood rooted to the spot, my heart pounding. Nicholas didn’t move right away; he stayed in his chair, staring at the desk in front of him. Even as the set bustled back to life around him, he seemed distant, as though some part of him was still in that void Bateman had described.

It was only when Luca approached him, clapping him on the shoulder, that Nicholas finally stirred, blinking as though shaking off the last remnants of Patrick Bateman. He nodded at Luca, forcing a small smile, but as he stood, his movements were slow, heavy. He tugged at his tie, loosening it slightly, and ran a hand through his hair. The mask was gone, but the exhaustion he’d been hiding was clearer than ever.

Nicholas stood at the center of it all, accepting congratulations with quiet grace. He hugged the director, shook hands with the crew, and posed for photos, but there was a weariness to his smile — a quiet emptiness left behind by the months of grueling work.

I watched him approach me, his face softening as he met my eyes. He was Nicholas again — tired, drained, but mine. He didn’t say anything as he reached me, just leaned in and kissed my temple, a silent reassurance that he was okay. Or at least, he would be. Though, I could feel the tension still lingering in his body as he wrapped his arms around me.

“You were incredible, Nic,” I whispered against his chest, my voice thick with emotion.

He didn’t respond right away. When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched mine, as though looking for reassurance. “Thank you for being here, (Y/N),” he admitted quietly.

I nodded, my hand brushing against his cheek. “Always.”

The wrap party that followed was a whirlwind of energy, music, and champagne. Nicholas was at the center of it all, the undeniable star of the night, but he kept me close, his hand finding mine whenever he wasn’t shaking someone else’s. It was surreal to see him celebrated this way, to see how much respect and admiration he commanded. Yet, even in the midst of it all, I could see the tiredness that lingered beneath the surface.

As the night wore on, the party seemed to drain Nicholas more than energize him. He laughed at the right moments, posed for photos with his co-stars, and accepted compliments with a polite smile, but there was an unshakable weariness to his movements. It was the kind of exhaustion that ran deeper than physical fatigue, a heaviness that came from giving so much of himself for so long.

I watched him from across the room as he stood by a small group of producers, one hand in his pocket, the other loosely holding a glass of champagne. His posture was relaxed, his expression easy, but I knew better. His shoulders sagged slightly, and the faintest shadow lingered under his eyes, the telltale signs of a man who was running on fumes. Even his smiles felt thinner, like they didn’t quite reach his eyes.

At one point, a costumer from the crew approached me, a friendly woman I’d been introduced to earlier in the day. “You must be so proud of him,” she said, her voice warm. “He’s poured everything into this role. You can tell.”

I nodded, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “I am. He’s amazing.”

I’d seen how Bateman had clung to Nicholas, how it had seeped into him in ways I wasn’t sure he even realized. And now that filming was over, I wanted to help him shed that weight. To remind him that he wasn’t Bateman, that he was Nicholas, the man I loved. Just then, I had an idea.

I turned to the costumer, my voice quieter this time. “Would it be possible to get one of Bateman’s ties?”

She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile creeping across her face. “A souvenir for him?”

“Something like that,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks warm.

The costumer seemed to understand. “Hold on,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. A few minutes later, she returned with a tie folded neatly in her hands. “Here,” she said, slipping it to me discreetly.

“Thank you,” I said, clutching the tie tightly. It was simple, sleek, and unmistakably Bateman. The color was a deep, commanding red, bold and almost… masochistic.

When Nicholas finally pulled me aside later in the evening, his exhaustion was impossible to miss. “Ready to go?” he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, slipping the tie into my bag without a word. “Let’s get you home.”

The walk back to the apartment was quiet, his hand heavy in mine. When we finally stepped inside, he dropped onto the couch with a sigh, leaning his head back against the cushions. I sat beside him, pulling his legs into my lap, and he let out a contented hum as I started to rub his calves gently.

“You did it,” I said softly. “It’s over.”

He nodded, his eyes half-closed. “Yeah. It’s over.”

But as I watched him, I knew it wasn’t really over — not yet. He carried Bateman with him still, in the set of his shoulders, in the quiet moments when he thought no one was looking. But I had a plan — a way to remind him that he was more than this role, more than the weight it had left behind. Though, I wouldn’t be able to set the plan in motion until our one-year anniversary, which was right around the corner.

So for now, I focused on the man in front of me, the one who had given so much of himself to his craft and was finally ready to rest. I leaned forward, brushing a kiss to his temple. “I’m so proud of you,” I whispered, my voice steady.

And for the first time that night and maybe the last handful of weeks, Nicholas smiled — a real, unguarded smile that reached his eyes.

In the weeks following the wrap of filming, Nicholas threw himself into us completely, as if he were trying to make up for all the time the movie had stolen from us. He planned lazy mornings in bed, pulled me out of the apartment during lunch for weekday picnics in Central Park, and impromptu walks through the quieter streets of the city. He cooked dinners, insisted on movie marathons, and even picked up small gifts for me — a flower from a street vendor, books I’d had on my wishlist for a while, and various sweet treats.

It was sweet, thoughtful, and entirely Nicholas. But even as he smiled, kissed my forehead, and called me “baby” in that soft, low voice that melted me, there was something lingering beneath it all. A tension in his shoulders he couldn’t quite shrug off, a flicker in his eyes when he thought I wasn’t looking. Patrick Bateman still clung to him, like a shadow he hadn’t fully stepped out of.

I noticed it in the way his hand lingered too long on the back of his neck when he thought he was alone, or the slight hesitation in his laugh when he told a story about filming, or when he was just the tiniest bit rougher during sex. There were even nights when he woke up suddenly, his breathing uneven, his hand instinctively reaching for me as if to reassure himself that I was there. He never wanted to talk about it, brushing it off with a smile and a kiss. But I knew better.

I wanted to believe that time and love would be enough to help him leave Bateman behind, that with every breakfast we shared, every laugh we exchanged, and every quiet moment we spent together, he’d remember that he was Nicholas — kind, gentle, and so, so human. But as the days passed, I started to wonder if he needed more than that. If maybe he needed a way to reclaim himself, to take all the weight and intensity he’d poured into that character and channel it into something else. So when our anniversary rolled around, it was pretty much all I thought about.

And Nicholas had plans of his own for our anniversary — grand ones.

A week before the big day, he casually mentioned he had a surprise. “I want to make it special,” he said, his hand grazing my cheek as he leaned in close. “Something we’ll never forget.”

I smiled, intrigued, but he wouldn’t give me any details. It wasn’t until the day of that I finally understood what he meant.

The day started off innocent enough. He surprised me with breakfast in bed, a most glorious spread of tea and Italian crème croissants — the meal I had when we first met each other exactly one year ago on the beach.

As I sat up in bed, the sunlight streaming through the curtains, I couldn’t help but smile at the tray Nicholas placed carefully in front of me. The smell of warm croissants and the delicate aroma of tea instantly transported me back to that day on the beach when everything started.

“Do you remember?” he asked softly, sitting beside me and brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“Of course,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. “How could I forget?”

His lips curved into a smile, and for a moment, I saw the Nicholas I knew so well — the one unburdened by the shadows of his work. We lingered over breakfast, laughing about the titillating details of our first meeting and marveling at how far we’d come. It was easy, natural, and exactly what I needed.

But the day had only just begun.

After breakfast, Nicholas handed me a small envelope. Inside was a handwritten note with only a time written in the most elegant cursive: 7PM

“What’s this?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Your next clue,” he teased, his grin mischievous.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of anticipation. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he might have planned, his cryptic smile every time I asked only adding to my curiosity. When seven o’clock finally rolled around, I found myself standing in front of a sleek black car, Nicholas waiting with the door open, with a bouquet of peonies in hand, looking devastatingly handsome in a midnight blue suit with a dark red shirt underneath, the color combination absolutely stunning.

“You look devastating,” he smiled as he stepped closer, handing me the bouquet and passionately kissing me, even dipping me a bit. He pulled back, smiling down at me as he held me below him, his arms carrying my entire weight.

Smiling, I caressed my hand down his cheek, “And you look absolutely dashing,” I spoke softly.

My eyes fell on the collar of his red shirt, reminding me of the weight of the red tie I slipped into my purse for tonight, and suddenly the bag felt heavy.

He straightened us both, gently guiding me toward the car. His touch lingered on the small of my back, a gesture that spoke volumes without a single word. The peonies rested on my lap, their soft pink blooms a stark contrast to the sleek black interior of the car. I turned to him, curiosity lighting up my face, but he only smiled, his dark brown eyes glimmering with mischief.

“Not one hint?” I pressed as he slid in beside me, closing the door with a quiet click.

“Not a single one,” he replied, leaning back and stretching his arm along the seat behind me. His fingers found their way to my shoulder, tracing slow, lazy patterns. “But I promise, you’ll love it.”

I raised an eyebrow, but the warmth in his gaze made it impossible to do anything but smile. The car hummed softly as we pulled away from the curb, the city’s lights casting fleeting patterns of gold and silver across his face. I studied him in those moments — the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his lips twitched at the corners when he caught me staring. Even now, after everything, he still took my breath away.

Suddenly, cobblestones replaced asphalt, and boutique shops appeared in droves, quickly replacing the modern storefronts of midtown.

“SoHo?” I asked, smiling, looking back out the window.

The streets of SoHo blurred past the windows, a kaleidoscope of boutiques and brick facades, their festive lights twinkling against the evening sky. The drive was short, just long enough to feel like we’d stepped into our own little bubble away from the rest of the world. Nicholas’s hand slipped down to lace his fingers with mine, the simple gesture grounding me as we neared our destination.

The car slowed to a stop outside a boutique hotel, its façade understated yet elegant, the kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it. Nicholas stepped out first, offering his hand to help me out of the car.

The evening air was crisp, wrapping around me like a gentle embrace as I took in the sight before me. The hotel’s warm light spilled onto the sidewalk, casting a golden glow that felt almost magical. I glanced at Nicholas, my heart swelling at the sight of his quiet pride, the way he held the door open for me with a small, knowing smile.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and intimate, as though this moment was meant for just the two of us.

I nodded, slipping my hand into his. “Always.”

Inside, the lobby was cozy yet refined, with soft lighting and plush seating that hinted at the charm waiting just beyond. The receptionist greeted us warmly, handing Nicholas a key card with a nod and a knowing smile. My curiosity burned brighter, but I didn’t ask. I let him lead me, trusting him in a way that felt effortless.

The elevator ride was quiet, our hands still intertwined. I felt the weight of the red tie in my purse, already planning out the moment I could reveal it to Nicholas in a way that wouldn’t scare either of us.

When the elevator doors opened, Nicholas led me down a hallway to a corner room. He slid the key card in, the lock clicking softly before he turned to me. “Close your eyes,” he murmured.

I gave him a dubious look but obeyed, letting him guide me inside.

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice close to my ear. “Open.”

I opened my eyes to a lavish suite that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a 1920s dream. Gold accents gleamed in the soft candlelight, red velvet furniture begging to be touched. The room was covered in extravagant floral arrangements, peonies of all colors. The bed, covered in peony petals and draped in plush, cream-colored linens, beckoned invitingly with a bottle of massage oil by the bedside. There was a small dining table adorned with candles and two dome-covered plates, but I could already smell the delicious scent of a warm steak dinner wafting ever so slightly through the room’s scent of something woody and luxurious. A bottle of chilled champagne, a bowl of strawberries, and warmed chocolate, waited for us on a nearby bar cart.

I stepped inside, taking it all in, and turned to Nicholas, who was watching me with an expectant smile. “Nic, this is gorgeous,” I spoke, dropping my purse in the middle of the floor in complete awe.

“It’s all for you,” he replied, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around my waist. “I wanted tonight to be perfect. Just us, no distractions.”

I leaned into him, my heart swelling. “It’s beautiful, Nicholas.”

He kissed me again then, before taking my hand and leading me over to the king-sized bed that was covered in adorned in pink petals. There was a big, rectangular box resting on top, a huge black bow on the lid.

I glanced at it, then back at Nicholas, my eyebrows slightly furrowed in curiosity. “What’s this?”

“Open it and find out,” he said, his grin teasing as he gestured toward the bed.

I stood at the edge of the mattress, my fingers brushing over the smooth ribbon before carefully untying the bow. The lid lifted easily, revealing a dress nestled inside — sleek and utterly captivating. It was midnight blue, the same color as his suit, and it was the kind of fabric that shimmered with every movement, catching the light in the most mesmerizing way. The neckline dipped just enough to be daring without losing its elegance, and when I pulled it out to admire its entirety, noticing its plunging back, I saw a lingerie set underneath.

The lingerie set — stockings, a garter, a bra, and underwear — beneath the dress was breathtaking. Delicate lace in the same color as the dress, edged with shimmering gold thread that caught the light just enough to feel luxurious without being gaudy. It was the kind of thing that felt both daring and intimate, something designed to make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

I looked up at Nicholas, my cheeks warming as his gaze met mine. There was something in his expression — admiration, anticipation, and maybe just a hint of nerves.

“You picked this out?” I teased, holding up the lingerie with a playful smile.

“Well, I know how much you love lace,” he whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His confidence was evident, but there was a glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes that made my heart ache in the best way.

“Who doesn’t?” I asked with a laugh, setting the lingerie and dress back in the box to wrap my arms around his neck and devour him in a kiss. I pulled away after a moment and spoke softly, “It’s beautiful.”

Nicholas’s hands settled firmly on my waist, his thumbs brushing against my sides in a way that sent a shiver up my spine. “Not as beautiful as you,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, like the words were meant for no one else but me.

I smiled, my cheeks warm as I leaned into him, resting my forehead against his. “You’re making it really hard not to jump you right now.”

Nicholas chuckled, his breath warm against my ear. “That’s the idea,” he murmured, his voice playful yet edged with a softness that made my heart flutter. His hands slid up my sides, his touch slow and deliberate. “But we have all night, baby. Let me spoil you first.”

I let out a soft laugh, my hands resting on his chest as I pushed him back just enough to meet his eyes. “You already are,” I whispered, my voice tinged with affection. “You always are.”

Nicholas gave me that smile — the one that always made my knees weak, the one that reminded me why I fell so hard for him in the first place. He stepped back, giving me space to stand, and gestured toward the en suite bathroom. “Why don’t you put that on for me, hmm?”

I nodded, unable to keep the giddy grin from my face as I carried the box with me. The bathroom was as opulent as the rest of the suite, with marble countertops, gilded fixtures, and a deep soaking tub that practically begged to be used. In fact, there were already candles set up all around the edge. But it was the full-length mirror that caught my attention as I set the lingerie and dress on the counter and took a moment to gather myself. My heart raced, not just from the anticipation of the night but from the overwhelming love I felt for Nicholas in that moment.

The lingerie fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for me. The lace clung to my curves in all the right ways. Because the dress had a pretty daring neckline and a plunging back, I decided against the bra, only putting on the stockings, underwear, and garter.

Once I was dressed, I slipped into the midnight blue gown, the shimmering fabric cascading down my body like liquid light. The lingerie beneath added an extra layer of allure, but the slit on the side revealed just enough of the garter to make me feel daring. My hands trembled slightly as I smoothed the fabric over my hips, taking a deep breath to steady myself before stepping back into the suite.

When I opened the door, Nicholas was waiting, leaning casually against the windowsill. His eyes lifted the moment he heard the soft click of the door, and the way his gaze swept over me stole the air from my lungs. He stood up straight, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed, his eyes darkening with desire.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice low and reverent. “You look… absolutely stunning.”

I felt my cheeks flush under his intense gaze, but I managed a playful smile. “I had a good stylist.”

Nicholas chuckled, closing the distance between us in a few slow, deliberate steps. His hands found my waist, his thumbs brushing against the silky fabric as he took me in. “I think I might be the luckiest man alive,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

My heart fluttered at his words, and I leaned into him, resting my hands on his chest. “I might be the luckiest girl alive,” I teased, my voice soft.

He grinned, his fingers gently tilting my chin up so our eyes met. “This night is just getting started, baby,” he said, his voice full of promise. Though, he himself didn’t know what I had in store for him either. “Shall we?”

Nicholas led me to the small table where the champagne, our dinner, and the strawberries waited. He pulled out a chair for me, always the gentleman, before making his way to the chair on the opposite side, but I motioned for him to pull the chair next to me, not wanting to be apart from him for a second.

Without hesitation, Nicholas moved his chair next to mine, his knee brushing against mine as he sat down. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of us. He poured us each a glass of champagne, the golden liquid bubbling softly in the flutes.

As we clinked glasses, he held my gaze, the moment feeling both intimate and electric. “To us,” he murmured.

“To us,” I echoed, taking a sip. The crisp champagne fizzed against my tongue, and I set the glass down before leaning closer to him. My free hand found his knee, and I felt him tense slightly under my touch before relaxing.

Nicholas picked up the domes of our food, tossing them beneath the bar cart, and reached for the silver knife and began cutting into the perfectly cooked steak on my plate, slicing it into bite-sized pieces. His focus was precise, the candlelight flickering against his sharp jawline as he worked. Once he had a piece ready, he held it up with his fork, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Open up,” he teased, his tone warm and playful.

I laughed softly but complied, letting him feed me. The steak melted on my tongue, its rich, savory flavor making me hum in appreciation. “You’re spoiling me,” I said, covering my mouth as I spoke.

We ate quietly for a few moments, the atmosphere intimate and unhurried. I found myself watching him more than eating, wondering if under all of tonight’s charm he still was still carrying all the stress from filming and planning our anniversary on top of that.

As I chewed thoughtfully, my mind drifted back to the beginning — our beginning. It felt surreal to think how much had changed in just a year. That weekend on the beach was supposed to be nothing more than a getaway from my chaotic home, but it turned into the moment my life shifted completely.

“You looked so focused on that book,” Nicholas said suddenly, his voice pulling me out of my reminiscence. It was almost like he could read my mind. Could he? He cut another piece of steak, setting it gently on my plate.

I smiled, shaking my head at the memory. “I was trying to distract myself from the fact I heard my hotel room neighbor,” my eyes flicked to him, “having sex the night before.”

His laugh was low and warm, a sound that always made my heart skip. “As I recall, you were touching yourself to the sounds of my lovemaking.”

“And you deliberately sat next to me on the beach because you knew I could hear you.”

Nicholas smirked, his fork pausing midway to his plate. “Guilty,” he admitted, his voice rich with mischief. “But can you blame me?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to keep a straight face, but the smile playing at the corner of my lips betrayed me. “A little.”

He smiled, cutting another piece of steak with deliberate care, holding out the piece of meat in front of me. I rolled my eyes playfully before taking the bite, but the memory softened something in me. That weekend had been the start of everything — his teasing charm, my cautious curiosity. The stolen glances, the agonizing teasing on his part, the mind blowing sex. Us meeting… it almost felt inevitable.

Nicholas leaned back in his chair, watching me intently as I chewed the steak he’d just fed me. “We were inevitable,” he said softly, echoing my thoughts like he’d plucked them right out of my mind.

I raised an eyebrow, swallowing before speaking. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“I am,” he replied simply, his gaze steady. “You and me, baby. It was always going to happen. Whether it was on that beach or somewhere else, it would’ve happened.”

His confidence should have been maddening, but instead, it made my chest ache in the best way. I reached out, tracing my fingers over the back of his hand where it rested on the table. “And you’re still this confident a year later?”

Nicholas chuckled, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Especially now,” he murmured.

I smiled, shaking my head at him but unable to hide the warmth blooming in my chest. It was easy to believe him when he looked at me like that, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

He reached across the table, cupping my cheek in his hand. “You make me better,” he said, his words unhurried and deliberate. “And after everything, after these last two months…” He paused, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “I don’t ever want to go back to what life was like before you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I leaned into his touch, my hand covering his. “You don’t have to,” I whispered. “I’m here. Always.”

For a moment, the rest of the world fell away. It was just us, sitting at that candlelit table, the weight of the past year settling into something softer, something full of promise. Nicholas’s eyes searched mine, and I knew he felt it too.

“Happy anniversary,” he said softly, leaning in to press his forehead against mine.

“Happy anniversary,” I whispered back, my voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill over.

We stayed like that for a moment, the quiet hum of the room wrapping around us like a cocoon. Eventually, that sentimental moment had grown into a more light-hearted dinner with conversations about both of our jobs, what other iconic New York landmarks he could take me to, and future date plans.

The steak dinner ended as perfectly as it had started — intimate, unhurried, and brimming with unspoken affection. When the plates were finally cleared, and the champagne glasses topped off, the room seemed to shift slightly. It was time for dessert.

Not wanting to leave my side for a second, Nicholas pulled the bar cart of strawberries and warmed chocolate with the tip of his shoe. The cart held an artful arrangement: plump, glistening strawberries nestled in a bed of crushed ice and a ceramic pot of melted chocolate resting on a low flame, its surface shimmering and inviting. The chocolate was dark and rich, the kind that promised an indulgent bitterness softened by the sweetness of the fruit. As Nicholas carefully moved everything to the table in front of us, a faint curl of steam rose from the pot, carrying the decadent aroma of cocoa through the air.

Nicholas dipped the first strawberry, swirling it through the warm chocolate with deliberate slowness, as if savoring the act itself. The glossy coating clung to the fruit, the contrast between the deep brown of the chocolate and the vibrant red of the strawberry making it almost too beautiful to eat. Almost.

He held it out to me, a small smile tugging at his lips as his eyes met mine. “Taste,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

I leaned forward, biting into the strawberry. The warmth of the chocolate melted into the tart sweetness of the berry, the combination indulgent and utterly divine. I closed my eyes briefly, letting the flavors linger as I hummed in appreciation. Opening my eyes, I said, “Delicious,” licking a bit of chocolate off my lips.

His gaze lingered on my mouth for a moment longer than necessary, and I could see the tension in his jaw as he fought to keep his composure. Nicholas cleared his throat, but his eyes never left my lips.

His hand reached for another strawberry, dipping it deliberately in the chocolate before offering it to me again. “Have another.”

I hesitated for a moment, but the look in his eyes made me lean in. I bit into the strawberry, slower this time, the chocolate melting on my tongue. I didn’t mean to drag it out, but the flavors were too perfect not to savor. When I looked up at Nicholas, his jaw was clenched, his breathing slightly heavier than before.

His lips parted as if to say something, but he shook his head and smiled instead. But he couldn’t resist. He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“What?” I asked with a smile but still a little confused.

“You’re eating those strawberries like…” He trailed off, laughing under his breath, his cheeks tinting ever so slightly. “You’re eating them like you’re trying to seduce me.”

I realized then what I must’ve looked like, slowly licking the chocolate off my lips, using the tip of my finger to swipe away any that was leftover. I stifled a laugh, “They’re just that good.”

Nicholas leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with an amused smirk, but his eyes were darker now, filled with something simmering just beneath the surface. “I don’t know if I believe you,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that always sent a shiver through me.

“I’m serious,” I said, laughing softly, though I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. “I wasn’t trying to do anything.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearm on the table, his face closer to mine. “That’s the problem,” he said, his gaze flickering down to my lips. “You’re not even trying, and I’m already losing my mind.”

I felt a rush of heat spread through me, my pulse quickening at the intensity in his eyes. “Well, maybe you should try one,” I said, reaching for another strawberry. “See if they’re as irresistible as I say.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I think I’d rather watch you.”

I bit my lip, unable to stop the smile that spread across my face as I looked down at the strawberry in my hand. “Fine,” I said, holding it up. “But if I keep eating them, it’s on you.”

I took another bite, this time slower, more self-conscious under his watchful gaze. The chocolate and sweetness of the strawberry were almost too good to handle, and I couldn’t help the soft sighs that escaped me. When I glanced up at Nicholas, his jaw was clenched again, his hand gripping the arm of his chair as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

The tension in the room had shifted, thickening with every shared glance and teasing word. Nicholas’s eyes were fixed on me, dark and unwavering, his breath audibly slower as he tried to keep himself in check. The strawberry I had just finished left a faint trace of chocolate on my lips, and I instinctively ran my tongue over it, savoring the lingering sweetness. That small, unthinking gesture seemed to push him just a bit further toward the edge.

Without a word, Nicholas took me by the wrist and guided me onto his lap, the fluid grace of his movements betraying the coiled tension he was holding in. I let myself settle on his laps, sitting sideways over him and crossing my legs as my hand brushed through his hair.

Nicholas’s hands traced up my legs, savoring the stocking’s material. His touch was slow and deliberate, his fingers trailing along the lace edge of the garter where it met my thigh. The warmth of his palms seeped through the delicate fabric, and I felt a tremor run through me as he took his time, savoring every inch of exposed skin. His gaze followed the path of his hands, dark and focused, as though he was committing the moment to memory. Just then, I could feel Bateman’s tie burning a hole through my purse.

“I have something for you,” I whispered.

Nicholas paused, his fingers stilling on my thigh as his eyes met mine, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “Something for me?” he asked softly, his voice low and steady.

I left his hold, walking over to where I had abandoned my bag. I pulled the tie out of my bag, my eyes tracing its shape one last time before hiding it behind me as I walked back over toward Nicholas, grabbing him by the hand and leading him to the red velvet chair near the window, motioning for him to sit and settling back into his lap, revealing what I had for him. The deep crimson fabric seemed to gleam in the dim light, a reminder of the character that had lingered in the shadows of our lives for weeks — months — now. I held it up, letting it dangle between us.

Nicholas’s expression shifted immediately. His jaw tightened, and a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. “You have that?” he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and something heavier — something darker.

I nodded, my fingers brushing over the silk as I met his gaze. “I thought it might help,” I said gently. “Filming’s been done for a few weeks now, but I know how much you’re still carrying, Nic.”

Nicholas’s gaze dropped to the tie, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. His hands rested on my hips, tightening slightly as though anchoring himself.

I leaned in closer, cradling his face with one hand. My thumb brushed over his cheek, tracing the strong line of his jaw. “I know it’s not easy to let go of something so intense,” I said softly, my eyes searching his.

His lips parted as if to speak, but I pressed a gentle kiss there, silencing him. When I pulled back, I held the tie between us again. “I want to help you release it,” I murmured. “All of it. Whatever’s left lingering inside you, whatever you’re holding on to… I want you to let it go. With me.”

Nicholas stared at the tie, his jaw tight. He exhaled slowly, his hands sliding up my sides, his touch steady but hesitant. “Why would you want this? Why would you—”

“Because I love you,” I interrupted, my voice resolute. “Because I see what it’s doing to you, keeping it all bottled up. And because I want to be the one who helps you let go. You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

Nicholas looked at me then, truly looked at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of doubt or fear. When he found none, something in his expression softened. He reached up, taking the tie from my hand, the crimson silk slipping through his fingers.

“You’re sure?” he asked one last time, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, my breath hitching as I whispered, “I trust you. Completely. And I want you to trust me, too.” I spoke softly, my voice steady despite the tremor of anticipation running through me.

He studied the tie for a moment, his fingers tightening around it before his gaze shifted back to me. The hesitation was still there, but it was mingled with something darker now, something raw and unguarded.

I slid off his lap then, standing a few paces in front of him as he stayed anchored to the chair. Slowly, I started to pull away at my dress straps. Nicholas’s gaze darkened as he watched me and his legs parted slightly, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly, knuckles whitening as if bracing himself. The silky straps of my dress slid off my shoulders with ease, the fabric cascading down my body until it pooled at my feet. The midnight blue lace lingerie beneath shimmered in the low light, accentuating every curve of my waist, hips, and legs while my chest laid bare.

His breath hitched, his eyes raking over me with a raw intensity before he closed his eyes, clutching the masochistically red tie in his fist and resting his lips on it, his jaw tight as if he was still deciding what to do. When his eyes met mine, I saw the storm raging within him — the hesitation, the desire, the lingering weight of what he’d been carrying for far too long. I took exactly one step closer, emboldened by the way his restraint felt like a taut wire ready to snap and to let him know that I was okay.

My heart raced as I stood, the anticipation building with every second that passed. The red velvet chair framed him like a king on his throne, and the way his gaze raked over me made my pulse quicken. He was all sharp lines and quiet command, his fingers drumming once against the armrest before stilling, his body humming with restrained energy. He tilted his head slightly, beckoning me over to him. I made my way over to him, taking several steps, but with the subtle lift of his finger, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Nicholas’s breath was heavy, his gaze flicking between the crimson tie in his hand and my face. Slowly, he stood, towering over me. The tension in his body was palpable, his hands shaking slightly as he reached out to cup my face, his touch gentle despite the turmoil within him. I tilted my head into his hand, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve.

His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, his eyes scanning my face as if searching for any trace of fear. When he found none, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, replaced by something darker, more primal.

“If I go too far, you stop me,” he said, his tone firm but laced with concern. “You say the word, and I stop. Do you understand?”

I nodded, my breath catching as I stepped closer. “I understand,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the rapid beat of my heart.

He stared at me for a long moment, his breathing shallow. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he let out a long sigh, removing his blue jacket. “Turn around,” he quietly commanded.

I hesitated for only a fraction of a second before obeying, the weight of his words sinking in. Slowly, I turned, my back to him, feeling the intensity of his gaze as it swept over me. Every nerve in my body was on edge, the anticipation coiling tightly in my chest. I heard the faint rustle of fabric as Nicholas adjusted his grip on the tie, the silk slipping through his fingers like a whispered promise.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher.

I did as he said, crossing my wrists behind me. A moment later, the cool silk of the tie brushed against my skin as Nicholas wound it around my wrists with a precision that was almost clinical. The knot tightened but it was loose enough for me to wriggle my wrists around easily, as if he was too afraid to tighten it further. If I tried, I could let myself slip away, but I didn’t want to.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. His hands lingered for a moment, his fingertips brushing the curve of my waist before he stepped back. I could feel the space between us, the charged air thick with the tension of what was to come.

“Walk to the bed,” Nicholas ordered, his tone sharper now, his earlier hesitation replaced by a commanding presence that sent a thrill through me.

I started toward the bed, the weight of his gaze following me. The click of my heels was silenced the moment I walked across the plush carpet, and I felt hyperaware of every movement, every breath. When I reached the foot of the bed, I paused, facing the plush mattress with my back to him, unsure of what he wanted next.

A beat passed, and I felt him behind me, close enough for his warmth to ghost over my bare shoulders but not touching. The silence stretched, thick with anticipation, as if he were letting the moment linger on purpose, testing the limits of my patience. My breath hitched when his fingertips finally brushed against the nape of my neck, tracing a line down my spine. The slow, deliberate touch sent a shiver rippling through me, my bound hands twitching slightly behind me.

Slowly, he stepped closer and closer, pinning me between him and the bed until I was forced to bend over, my upper body landing on the bed with a soft bounce while my feet stayed stuck to the floor.

Nicholas’s presence was overwhelming, a physical force pressing against me as he loomed behind, his weight commanding without even a word. The tie around my wrists tightened slightly, the silk unyielding as he pulled it just enough to remind me of his control. The cool air of the room kissed the exposed skin of my back, and I couldn’t suppress the shiver that coursed through me.

His hands slid over my sides, slow and deliberate, his fingers digging slightly into my skin as though marking his territory. One hand gripped my waist firmly, holding me in place as he leaned down, his breath hot against the back of my neck. The sensation sent a jolt through me, and I arched slightly, seeking more contact, but he didn’t give it to me — at least, not yet.

Instead, his lips grazed my shoulder, soft and teasing, before his teeth sank in sharply, leaving a sting that lingered. I gasped, my body jerking reflexively against the restraints. Nicholas’s low growl rumbled against my skin, his hands tightening their hold as though to steady me. His nails dragged down my sides, deliberate enough to leave faint trails that burned with the contrast of pleasure and pain.

“Stay still,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with authority. There was no mistaking the command in his tone, and it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in my stomach.

I did my best to obey, my breaths coming faster as he worked his way down my back, alternating between soft kisses and bites that left marks I knew would linger. Each press of his teeth was sharp, calculated, a reminder of the control he held. His hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of me with a possessive intensity that left me trembling.

When his hand finally slid around to the front of my throat, I let out a soft whimper, my head tilting back instinctively to allow him access. His fingers wrapped around my neck, firm but not constricting, just enough pressure to remind me who was in charge. He held me there, his thumb brushing over the hollow of my throat in a way that sent shivers racing through my body.

The other hand trailed lower, gliding over the lace of my lingerie before delivering a sharp smack to the curve of my hip. The sound echoed in the quiet room, followed by the sting that bloomed across my skin. I gasped, my body jolting against the bed, but the silk tie held firm. Nicholas’s grip on my throat tightened slightly, his lips brushing against my ear as he murmured, “Good girl.”

The praise sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I felt myself melt further into his hold. His hand moved again, this time skimming the edge of my garter before slipping beneath it. His nails dragged lightly against the sensitive skin of my thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, his hand came down again, harder this time, the sound and sensation rippling through me.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice rough and filled with a dark satisfaction. “So perfect like this.”

His hand returned to my neck, his grip steady as he pulled me back slightly, forcing me to arch against him. The contrast between the roughness of his hold and the softness of the bed beneath me was dizzying, and I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he pressed closer.

Nicholas’s teeth found the curve of my shoulder again, biting down harder this time, drawing a sharp whimper from me. His free hand slid over my stomach, teasing the edge of the lace before dipping lower, his touch deliberate and teasing. He didn’t rush, didn’t give me what I wanted right away, instead drawing out the tension until every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire.

The next smack landed harder, this time on the curve of my backside, the sting sharp and immediate. My breath hitched, and I twisted slightly against the restraints, lifting my hips up toward him the tiniest bit, my body aching for more. Nicholas chuckled darkly, his grip on my neck tightening just enough to hold me still.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a low growl. His hand slid over the sting, soothing the ache with a gentleness that was almost cruel in its contrast to the sharpness of his earlier touch.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, my body trembling with a heady mix of anticipation and surrender. Nicholas didn’t need an answer; he could feel it in the way I responded to his touch, in the way my body arched into him despite the restraints.

He tugged on the tie, pulling me upright so my back pressed flush against his chest. His hand slipped from my neck to my jaw, tilting my head back so he could claim my mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was rough, demanding, his teeth grazing my bottom lip before he bit down just hard enough to make me gasp.

The silk of the tie bit into my wrists as I struggled slightly, not to get away but to feel more, to push against the limits he’d set. Nicholas’s grip on my jaw tightened, holding me in place as his other hand trailed lower, the tip of his finger trailed achingly down the valley between my breasts all the way to the edge of the lace underwear he had picked out for me. My entire body shivered at the sensation, earning a shaky moan out of me.

“Stay still,” he growled again, his voice a warning and a promise all at once.

The command hung in the air, heavy and electrifying, rooting me in place as his touch sent waves of fire through me. I nodded, barely able to form coherent words, my breathing uneven as Nicholas’s finger traced the lace’s edge, teasing but never quite giving me what I craved. The deliberate slowness was maddening, every nerve in my body tuned to the rhythm of his movements.

Nicholas didn’t hold back. His fingers curled into the lace, tugging just enough to make the fabric strain against my skin. The sound of the delicate material stretching filled the air, blending with the sound of my rapid breathing. His hand returned to my jaw, gripping firmly as he tilted my head to the side, his lips brushing against my neck.

“I told you to stay still,” he growled against my skin, his voice raw, dark, and dripping with control. “But you keep testing me. Do you want me to break you tonight?”

The words were sharp and unapologetic, carrying a heat that burned through me. My knees nearly buckled under the weight of his command, and I gasped, my body trembling as he pushed me forward again, pressing me into the bed. The tie around my wrists tightened with a calculated pull, reminding me just how restrained I was — and just how much power he held.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his palm coming down hard on my ass. The sting rippled through me, sharp and thrilling, making me bite my lip to suppress the cry that bubbled up.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice trembling but sure. “Yes, Nicholas.”

A low growl of satisfaction escaped him, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Then don’t hold back,” he commanded, his hand gripping my waist roughly as his other hand tugged on the tie, arching my back just the way he wanted. “I want to hear you. I want to feel you.”

His words pushed me further into the haze of surrender, and when his teeth sank into the curve of my shoulder, harder than before, I cried out, my body trembling under the onslaught of sensation. His free hand slipped beneath the lace, his fingers pressing firmly, rougher than his earlier teasing. There was no hesitation now, no softness — just raw, unapologetic desire that left me breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with satisfaction as he felt the way I responded to him. “So perfect for me.”

The roughness in his touch was intoxicating, the way his hands explored every inch of me, leaving no part untouched. He alternated between sharp, biting smacks that left my skin burning and soothing caresses that only served to heighten the anticipation. The contrast made my head spin, my body caught in the push and pull of his control.

Nicholas pulled me up again, forcing me to meet his eyes. His gaze was dark, burning with a possessive intensity that made my heart race. “You’re mine,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I breathed, the words spilling out without hesitation.

He nodded, satisfied, and his hand gripped my jaw tighter. “Don’t forget it,” he growled before claiming my mouth in a kiss that was fierce and punishing, leaving no doubt of who I belonged to. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, pulling until I gasped, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss until I was left dizzy and desperate for more.

When he finally pulled back, his chest heaved with his own labored breathing, but his grip on me never wavered. “Get on the bed,” he ordered, releasing me just long enough to watch as I struggled to move with my wrists still bound. “Face down.”

I obeyed, my body trembling with anticipation as I crawled onto the bed, the silk tie tugging slightly against my wrists with every movement. The plush linens were cool against my overheated skin, a stark contrast to the fire Nicholas had ignited in me.

His weight shifted the bed as he climbed on behind me, and I felt his hands on my hips, pulling me into position with a roughness that left no room for resistance. “Now, let’s see how much you can take.”

Nicholas didn’t waste a moment. His hands gripped my hips firmly, his fingers digging into the delicate lace of the lingerie, pulling me back toward him with a strength that sent shivers through my entire body. The air was thick with tension, my heartbeat pounding in my ears as he leaned down, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my lower back before his teeth nipped sharply.

I gasped, the sting blooming into heat, and he chuckled darkly, his voice rough and unapologetic. “You’re trembling already,” he murmured, his hands roaming up my sides before tugging at the tie around my wrists, forcing me to arch even further. “I haven’t even started yet.”

The words sent a thrill through me, and I whimpered softly, every nerve in my body on high alert as his hands slid over the curve of my butt. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every second, but there was an undercurrent of barely restrained energy in him, a coiled tension that threatened to snap at any moment.

Without warning, his hand came down hard against me, the sharp crack of the impact echoing through the room. The sting was immediate, radiating heat through my skin, and I cried out, my body jolting forward against the restraints.

“That’s it,” Nicholas growled, his hand smoothing over the spot he’d just marked before delivering another sharp slap. “Don’t hold back, baby. Let me hear you.”

I couldn’t stop the sounds that escaped me, a mix of gasps and moans as he alternated between soothing caresses and punishing strikes. Each smack was harder than the last, the sting sharper, and my body arched instinctively, caught in the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.

I then felt Nicholas tug down at my underwear, unbuckling my garter to slip it out from under my feet. I shivered at the feeling of the room’s cool air nip at my slick heat. Then, the bed became lighter when he left my side. Desperate for him, I peeked over my shoulder.

Nicholas stood at the edge of the bed, his gaze dark and commanding as he looked down at me. The red silk tie still bound my wrists behind my back, leaving me exposed and vulnerable in a way that sent another wave of heat coursing through me. He took his time, letting his eyes travel over every inch of me, his expression a mix of satisfaction and anticipation.

“Stay just like that,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with an authority that left no room for argument.

I bit my lip, nodding as I turned my head back to rest against the bed. The cool sheets contrasted sharply with the fire burning inside me, and every second of his silence only heightened the anticipation. I could hear the faint rustle of fabric behind me, and my mind raced, imagining what he was doing, what he was planning. The air seemed to shift as he moved closer again, his presence as commanding as ever.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he climbed back onto the bed, his hands sliding over my legs, spreading them apart forcefully. The cool air kissed my most sensitive spots, and I gasped softly, my body trembling under his touch. His hands were steady, firm, as they gripped my hips, pulling me back slightly to align with him.

There was a pause, a beat of silence that seemed to stretch on forever, and then I felt his lips on my lower back, warm and teasing as they trailed upward. He took his time, alternating between soft kisses and rough nips that left my skin tingling.

When his lips reached the nape of my neck, he leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “Ready?” he murmured.

I nodded, my voice lost to the haze of anticipation that enveloped me. My body felt like it was strung tight, every nerve attuned to the subtle shifts in the air, the warmth of Nicholas’s breath against my skin, the firm grip of his hands on my hips.

He quickly settled between my legs and without warning, inserted himself. I let out a sharp cry, fluttering my eyes shut as he started to thrust, deeply and powerfully. I buried my face into the sheets, muffling my own cries, but Nicholas wasn’t having it. He brushed his fingers through my hair, clutching a fistful and pulling my head back toward him.

“Don’t hide from me,” he growled, his voice low and rough, filled with a commanding edge that sent shivers coursing through me.

Nicholas’s grip on my hair was firm but not painful, his fingers tangling in the strands as he pulled me upright. My back arched, the silk tie biting into my wrists as I gasped, the sound raw and unrestrained as his movements deepened, each thrust sending waves of sensation through me.

I whimpered, my body trembling as his free hand trailed down my side, his touch possessive as he explored every curve. The heat of his body against mine was overwhelming, each movement deliberate and precise as he drove me further into the haze of pleasure. My head tilted back against his shoulder, the sharp pull of his grip keeping me in place as he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and electrifying.

I focused my gaze on him then, noticing the tight furrow of his brows, not of anger but of concern. His eyes searched mine for any sign of discomfort, but I felt none. I encouraged him to continue by leaning into his hold and letting out unrestrained moans.

His movements faltered for a brief moment, as he seemed to process the permission I had given him. Then, as if a dam had broken, he growled low in his throat, his pace quickening as he let go of my hair and threw me back down against the bed.

The intensity of his thrusts left no room for thought, only sensation, my body responding to his every move as he guided me to the edge and back again. Nicholas’s grip on my hips tightened, his hands steadying me as he buried himself deeper and deeper, his breathing ragged as he chased the same release building within me.

He pinned me down against the bed with his arm, resting his forearm across the back of my shoulders and letting his full weight fall on me as he continued his powerful movements. I let out shuddering whimpers, trying to catch my breath as best as I could and at times it felt like I couldn’t breathe, but it felt all the more exhilarating. The way Nicholas was thrusting in and out of me, completely unrestrained and unguarded, was intoxicating.

He lowered his face next to mine, planting a light kiss behind my ear before he buried his face completely into the back of my shoulder, focusing on his thrusts becoming more intense. His breathing became more ragged, breathier.

“No—“ I heard him strain out a whimper as his movements continued.

Nicholas’s movements were relentless, his body pressed tightly against mine as the tension between us built to an almost unbearable peak. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, his breaths hot and ragged against the back of my neck. Each powerful thrust sent shivers through me, my body trembling as I let out a cry and surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation, reaching climax.

But then, I felt the weight of Nicholas’s arm on my back falter, his pace slowing, becoming uneven, as he rode out his own high and buried himself against my back. His breathing grew heavier, almost strained, and I realized it wasn’t just exertion — it was something deeper, more vulnerable.

“Nic?” I whispered, my voice shaky from the intensity of it all. I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his face, and what I saw made my heart clench.

He was clutching onto me, not with any roughness, but as if he was afraid I might leave him alone. A quiet, pained whimper escaped his lips as his shoulders shuddered. That’s when I felt the light sensation of a tear fall onto my back.

Nicholas was crying.

Panic flashed through me as the realization hit. I stilled beneath him, my body still trembling from the aftermath of what we’d just shared. The tie around my wrists suddenly felt too tight, too restrictive. I wriggled against it, desperate to free myself and reach him.

“Nic,” I whispered, trying to get his attention. His grip on my hips loosened slightly, and I took the chance to twist my wrists, managing to slip one hand free. The silk tie fell away as I quickly turned under him, catching his face in my hands.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched tight, and silent tears streaked down his face. He was trying so hard to hold it in, to keep it together, but his body betrayed him — his shoulders trembled, and his breath hitched uncontrollably.

“Nicholas, look at me,” I urged, my voice soft but firm.

He shook his head, his hands coming up to cover his face as if he couldn’t bear to let me see him like this. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick and broken. “I don’t— I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop,” I interrupted gently, prying his hands away from his face. “You don’t have to apologize. Let it out; it’s ok.”

His watery eyes met mine then, the raw vulnerability in his gaze cutting straight to my soul. “It’s just…,” he whispered hoarsely. “Filming, the pressure, trying to make this perfect for you… And then… you… I just…” He trailed off, his voice breaking as another tear slipped down his cheek.

“Oh, Nic,” I murmured, my heart breaking for him. I shifted closer, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him against me. He resisted for a moment, but when I whispered, “I’m here. I’ve got you,” he collapsed into me, his head resting against my shoulder as the sobs he’d been trying to suppress finally broke free.

I held him tightly, my fingers running through his damp hair as he clung to me, his body trembling against mine. “Let it out,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

Nicholas buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot and uneven against my skin. “I’m sorry,” he kept repeating, his voice muffled and thick with emotion.

“Shh,” I soothed, my hands moving in slow, comforting strokes over his back. “You did nothing wrong. This is what I wanted — for you to let everything go, to not hold back.”

He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, letting everything out while I held him, whispering soft reassurances and pressing gentle kisses to his temple. Slowly, his breathing began to even out, his grip on me loosening as the storm within him started to calm.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were red, his face tear-streaked, but there was a lightness to him now — a sense of release that hadn’t been there before. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice raw but sincere. “I needed all of that.”

I cupped his face in my hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me,” I said softly. “I’m here for you, Nic. Always.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into my touch as he let out a shaky breath. When he opened them again, there was something different in his gaze — a vulnerability, yes, but also a deep, unspoken gratitude and love that made my chest ache.

“I love you,” he said, the words weighted with everything he couldn’t put into words.

“I love you, too,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill over. 

“Come with me,” I murmured, gently guiding him to his feet. His brows furrowed in confusion, but he followed my lead as I led him toward the bathroom. The warm glow of the dimmed lights reflected off the marble, the inviting expanse of the oversized bathtub waiting for us.

The bathroom was bathed in a golden glow, the soft lights reflecting off the pristine marble tiles. I turned on the faucet, letting the hot water rush into the oversized tub as steam began to curl into the air. I added a handful of eucalyptus bath salts, their fresh, calming scent filling the room. Nicholas stood behind me, watching silently, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe

Once the tub was half-filled, I turned back to him, offering a gentle smile. “Come on, Nic,” I said softly, I reached for him.

He hesitated, his gaze flickering between the bath and me. “You’ve done enough for me tonight,” he said quietly, his voice still thick with emotion. “It’s my turn to take care of you.”

I shook my head, stepping closer to him. “You don’t have to do that. Tonight is about you letting go.”

Nicholas’s brows furrowed, and he reached out, his fingers brushing over my bare shoulder. His touch was light, almost hesitant. “(Y/N)… look at yourself.” His voice was filled with a quiet anguish as his gaze dropped to the faint red marks and bruises forming along my arms and hips. His fingers ghosted over a particularly dark mark on my thigh, and he swallowed hard.

I glanced down, suddenly aware of the evidence of our earlier intensity written across my skin. I had been too focused on him to notice, and now, seeing his reaction, my heart ached. “It’s okay,” I said gently, placing my hand over his. “I wanted that. I wanted to give you whatever you needed.”

Nicholas shook his head, his jaw tightening as guilt flickered across his face. “You shouldn’t have to carry the weight of my frustration like that,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You gave me everything tonight, and I—” His voice broke, and he closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to steady himself. When he looked at me again, his gaze was filled with determination. “Let me take care of you now. Please.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the earnestness in his eyes stopped me. He needed this — not just for me, but for himself, to reconcile the roughness he’d shown. Slowly, I nodded, stepping back toward the tub. “Okay,” I said softly. “But we’ll take care of each other.”

Nicholas’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he stepped forward, his hands steady and deliberate as he helped me into the warm water. The heat enveloped me, soothing my tired muscles as I sank into the tub. He climbed in behind me, his legs settling on either side of me.

The warmth of the water surrounded us, the eucalyptus scent filling the air as Nicholas’s strong arms wrapped around me. He pulled me close, his chest against my back, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The sound of the water gently lapping against the edges of the tub was the only noise in the room, a soothing backdrop to the weight of the moment.

Nicholas’s fingers brushed against my shoulders, tracing the faint red marks his grip had left earlier. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, as though he was afraid to hurt me again.

I reached up, placing my hand over his before he could even have the chance to speak, intertwining our fingers. “Nic, I wanted those marks. Every moment of it, I wanted it.” My voice was soft but firm, willing him to understand.

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of my head in a lingering kiss. “Even so,” he whispered, his breath warm against my hair. “We had never done anything like that before.”

“I know,” I said, turning my head slightly to meet his gaze. His brown eyes were filled with a vulnerability that tugged at my heart. “But I think it was something we had to do.”

His jaw tightened, and his free hand reached for the sponge resting on the side of the tub. He dipped it into the warm water and squeezed a bit of the hotel body wash onto it, squeezing it gently before running it over my shoulders and collarbone. His touch was slow, deliberate, as though he were trying to erase the marks with every careful stroke.

The sponge glided down my arms, and Nicholas paused as his gaze settled on the faint red marks around my wrists where the tie had been. His fingers brushed over them, his brow furrowing deeply. “I tied you too tight,” he muttered, his voice laced with self-recrimination. “I should’ve checked—”

“Nic.” I turned in his arms, cupping his face with both hands. The water rippled around us as I shifted. “Listen to me,” I said firmly, holding his gaze. “You didn’t hurt me. I wanted to surrender to you, to trust you completely. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

His hands settled on my hips, his grip gentle but steady. “I just… I need to make sure you’re okay,” he said softly. “Because the thought of hurting you—”

“You didn’t,” I interrupted, leaning forward to press my forehead against his. “You gave me everything I needed, Nic. And now, I’m giving you the chance to let go of that guilt. Let it go, just like you let go earlier. We’re in this together, remember?”

His eyes closed for a moment, and I felt him exhale, his breath warm against my lips. “Together,” he repeated, his voice a quiet promise.

I leaned back slightly, giving him space to continue. His hands moved again, the sponge tracing over my chest and down my sides with a care that made my heart ache. For the rest of the bath, Nicholas’s touch remained gentle and reverent, his movements slow as he cared for me with an intensity that spoke louder than any words could.

As he continued, my gaze turned toward the open door of the bathroom. I looked at Bateman’s tie that had been left abandoned on the bed, strewn like it was nothing. In my head, I thanked it for the purpose it served.

Patrick Bateman was someone that had been looming over our relationship since Nicholas had taken the role. At times, the energy worked in our favor when Nicholas felt emboldened and riskier whenever we had sex, which were beautiful memories. Other times, though, he was this pestering dark cloud that followed Nicholas around, not letting him fully out of his grasp, even when he was at home.

Tonight, though, we used something of his — his iconic red tie — to channel all of that energy into something cathartic, something I thought could help free us from his clutches. So, believe me when I say that I thought that would be the last I saw of Bateman. Imagine my surprise when the press tour for American Psycho began and he was all I saw.

This time around, though, Bateman’s energy didn’t cling to Nicholas — not at all. After our anniversary, Nicholas was as lively as ever, back to his old self before he had ever decided to take on the role, and if any traits of Bateman’s lingered in him, it was his love of control, which Nicholas channeled in a tender and, most importantly, consensual manner. He was no longer ashamed of having been consumed by the character; he was open and honest about it. He shed him completely.

No, Bateman had somehow managed to cling onto me. Not in the way it had clung to Nicholas, but I just couldn’t escape him anywhere we went. I had hoped that after Nicholas had finished filming that our lives would slow down a little bit and give me a chance to breathe and readjust, hoping maybe then I could feel a little less stressed about moving to the city, but it only seemed to ramp up as the months passed.

That’s when all the invitations started to roll in. Interviews, parties, early screenings, events — they were piling on and on. And Nicholas was just so enthusiastic about attending them all, asking if I wanted to accompany him. I said yes every time, of course. How could I not? His excitement was contagious, his joy palpable after months of emotional turmoil.

And I couldn’t deny the excitement of accompanying him to an industry event. It was something I was afraid of throwing myself into way back when I visited him in Los Angeles, but now I had the emotional maturity of not caring what others thought of me. I was floating through these parties without a care in the world, excited to be sharing such joyous occasions with Nicholas. 

Slowly, but surely, I started to miss more and more days of my remote job. I told myself I’d be able to catch up, and at first, I was. I would meet all my deadlines and I wouldn’t miss a meeting for anything in the world. However, the more events Nicholas was invited to, the more planes we had to take, and the less time I found to be able to catch up on work.

The look in Nicholas’s eyes whenever I’d agree to go with him, his excitement when he talked about the events, or the way his face lit up when he introduced me as his partner — it was worth everything. There were nights where I would stay up late into the early morning losing sleep trying to meet deadlines just so I wouldn’t have to tell him no.

As much as I didn’t like the fact that my job had me tethered to a laptop inside our apartment in a bustling city like New York, it was also a tether to my independence. Losing sleep was one thing; losing that tether was another entirely. 

So, I tried to juggle both as best I could, even when we moved back to his apartment in Los Angeles, but eventually, my performance at work started to suffer. I would miss deadlines — not by much, but I had never missed one before. There would be rookie mistakes on documents, ones that were so small but I still couldn’t believe I had missed, especially when I had been working for a few years now. It had gotten to the point where my absolutely understanding boss had emailed to check up on me. He was such a sweetheart about everything, even giving me a few days off so I could decompress and come back swinging. Though, that didn’t work much; my performance never really bounced back.

Nicholas caught me at a particularly vulnerable time for him to ask a monumental question. It was one of those rare mornings when the sunlight filtered through the windows just right, casting a warm glow over our bedroom. Nicholas sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, scrolling through his phone with a faint smile tugging at his lips. I was sprawled on the bed, still in my pajamas, half-heartedly sipping my tea while trying not to think about the email draft I had written the night before.

“Hey, babe,” Nicholas said suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the room. I glanced over, raising an eyebrow. He looked up from his phone, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “I have something to ask you.”

I set my mug down on the nightstand, already wary of the energy radiating off him. “Okay,” I said slowly, sitting up straighter. “What’s up?”

He leaned forward, placing his phone down and clasping his hands together like he was about to pitch me the idea of a lifetime. “So, you know how the global press tour for American Psycho starts next month, right?”

I nodded, already feeling the nerves creep into my stomach. He’d mentioned it before in passing, but I hadn’t really thought much about it. It was the last thing on my mind.

“Well,” he continued, his voice softening, “I was talking to my team yesterday, and if you’re up for it…” he grinned, “I want you to be my plus one.”

My stomach dropped. “You want me to go with you?” I asked, my voice more breathless than I intended.

He nodded eagerly, reaching out to take my hand. “Yes. I mean, I’d get to show you so many incredible places — London, Paris, Tokyo, Sydney, Mexico, then back to New York for the American premiere. I can show you what the world has in store for you.”

It warmed my heart to have him remember the sentiment that had pushed me to follow him to New York in the first place. The thought of traveling the world with Nicholas, sharing in his success, was undeniably tempting. But the reality of what it would mean hit me like a freight train. If I said yes, I’d have to fully commit — no half-hearted attempts to juggle work and this tour. I’d have to quit my job, officially severing the last thread of independence I had. And unfortunately, Nicholas caught me at just the right moment.

I shifted closer to him, planting a kiss on his lips and hoping my smile didn’t come off as tired. “I’d love to go with you,” I whispered.

He grew giddy, embracing me in a tight hug before pulling away and kissing me again. He grabbed his phone and stood up from the bed, already tapping away, “I’ll let my team know.” He left the room with his phone up to his ear, smiling widely.

As soon as he was out of the room, I grabbed my own phone, opening the Mail app and tapping over to the email I had drafted the night before. It stared back at me, almost daring me.

Subject: Two Weeks Notice

Dear Mr. Lee,

I am writing to formally resign from my position, effective in two weeks from the day this email is sent.

This decision wasn’t easy, but I believe it’s the right step for my personal growth. I’m grateful for the opportunities you have given me during my time working, and I truly value the experiences and knowledge I’ve gained.

Thank you again for everything, and I wish you and your company continued success.

Best regards,

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

The words “right step” mocked me. I’m not sure I believed my own words, but I had to make a decision and I wanted to be there for Nicholas. So… I hit send.

As soon as I did, I felt a strange mix of emotions wash over me — relief, fear, and an unsettling sense of finality. The email disappeared into the ether, and for a moment, I just sat there, staring at my phone. The “sent” notification blinked back at me, a confirmation that there was no turning back now.

I set the phone down and leaned back against the headboard, taking a deep breath. My heart pounded in my chest, and I pressed a hand to it, as though I could somehow calm the storm brewing inside me. This was it. I had made my choice. There would be no more juggling deadlines on planes or late-night cram sessions after events.

Nicholas reappeared in the doorway, his grin still firmly in place. “They’re thrilled,” he announced, stepping back into the room. He dropped his phone on the nightstand and crawled back onto the bed, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. “You have no idea how happy this makes me. I get to share everything with you.”

I tried to match his enthusiasm, forcing a smile as I hugged him back. “I’m happy too,” I murmured, and in some ways, I was. But the unease lingered, coiling in the back of my mind.

He pulled back slightly to look at me, his hands cradling my face. “You won’t regret this,” he said earnestly, his eyes searching mine.

I wanted to believe that this was the right decision, that this sacrifice would be worth it in the end. But as Nicholas held me close, excitement radiating off him in waves, I couldn’t help but feel the faintest flicker of doubt. However, that feeling was quickly pushed aside with excitement as we touched down at all the different cities.

The following weeks blurred into a whirlwind of airports, hotel rooms, and bustling cities. The excitement of the tour swept me up, and for a while, it was easy to ignore the lingering doubt that had settled in the back of my mind. Nicholas was in his element, thriving in the spotlight as he charmed his way through interviews and red carpets. Watching him come alive like this, seeing the passion he had for his work, made me forget everything else.

Our first stop was London. The city was a blur of cobblestone streets, red carpets, and late-night drinks at posh hotel bars. The press schedule was packed, with interviews at iconic landmarks like the London Eye and Tower Bridge. I watched Nicholas charm every journalist he met, his smile as bright as the city’s twinkling lights. He was in his element here — confident, captivating, and utterly magnetic.

One night, we snuck away from the glamour, hand in hand, to a quiet pub on the outskirts of town. Over pints of ale and baskets of chips, he leaned across the table, his eyes soft as he murmured, “This is the best part of it all — just being with you.”

My favorite stop was Paris. The city was as magical as I’d imagined, with its cobblestone streets and golden sunsets over the Seine. Nicholas made a point to steal moments away from the tour schedule to show me the city. We spent an afternoon at the Louvre, getting lost in the endless halls of art, and one evening, he surprised me with a private dinner on a boat that floated along the river, the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the background. I couldn’t take my eyes off the hunk of metal at all.

“Can you believe we’re here?” he whispered that night, his fingers laced with mine as the boat glided across the water.

I smiled, leaning my head against his shoulder. “It feels like a dream.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re the only thing that makes this real for me.”

The sweetness of his words carried me through Tokyo, where the neon lights of Shibuya Crossing cast a kaleidoscope of colors over our late-night ramen adventures. It was there that I saw a side of Nicholas I hadn’t seen ever — carefree, almost childlike in his wonder as he marveled at the vending machines and arcades. He pulled me into a photo booth one night, laughing as we struggled to time our poses with the flashing lights. The photo strip, with our silly faces and unfiltered joy, became a cherished souvenir.

By the time we reached Sydney, I had almost convinced myself that I had made the right choice. The harbor sparkled under the summer sun, and Nicholas’s excitement was infectious as we climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge together. He insisted on holding my hand the entire way up, even when I teased him about how sweaty our palms were getting.

“You’re stuck with me,” he said, grinning as we reached the top. “Sweaty palms and all.”

I laughed, leaning into him as the wind whipped around us. “Good thing I don’t mind.”

Things didn’t come to a head until we reached Mexico, the last stop before the American movie premiere in New York.

The vibrant energy of Mexico City enveloped us as soon as we arrived. The streets buzzed with life, the colors were extra vibrant, and the air filled with the tantalizing scent of street food. Nicholas was in awe, snapping pictures on his phone, pulling me along with an excitement I couldn’t help but mirror at first. But as the day wore on, I found myself retreating inward, the hum of the city blending into a distant background noise.

We strolled through Chapultepec Park, its lush greenery offering a serene escape from the bustling streets. Nicholas chatted animatedly about everything, from the architecture to the way the city pulsed with history and culture. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I smiled when he paused to admire a local artist’s work, but my smiles felt faint, like they didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“You okay?” Nicholas asked at one point, his voice laced with concern. He had stopped to buy us horchata from a street vendor, handing me a cup as he studied me.

I hesitated, sipping the sweet drink and avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, just tired,” I said, my voice lighter than I felt.

His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t press. “Alright,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Just a few more hours until I have to do my interview, and then we can go to the hotel, okay?”

I nodded, forcing another smile, “Okay.”

Nicholas’s hand slipped into mine, his grip gentle but reassuring, and he led me toward the Museo Nacional de Antropología. The exhibits were stunning, the artifacts rich with history and culture, but my mind felt foggy, unable to fully engage. I found myself trailing behind Nicholas, nodding when he pointed out something he found fascinating, but my responses were automatic, disconnected.

For our last stop, we arrived at some studio for his interview, Nicholas was whisked off by a flurry of assistants and makeup artists. I found myself standing in the corner of the room, out of the way but still close enough to see him. He looked relaxed, poised, and entirely in his element as he laughed and chatted with the crew.

I watched him through the chaos, feeling both proud and slightly detached. This was his moment — the culmination of months of hard work. But as I stood there, arms crossed over my chest, I couldn’t shake the nagging thought that while he was flourishing, I felt like I was wilting.

The interview began, the host effusive in their praise for the movie and Nicholas’s performance. They asked him questions about his process, the challenges of stepping into Patrick Bateman’s shoes, and what he hoped audiences would take away from the film. Nicholas answered each question with the kind of eloquence and charm that made me fall for him in the first place. His passion was undeniable, his smile magnetic.

But then it happened. Toward the end of the interview, the host reached under their desk and pulled out a promotional poster of Patrick Bateman. It was a close-up of Nicholas as Bateman, his expression cold and unyielding, blood splattered across his face. The room buzzed with admiration as the host praised the poster’s “brilliant intensity.”

For me, though, it was like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t escape him. He followed us from city to city, always there. Billboards, promotional posters glued to fences, on the sides of city buses, even when I tried to take a break and scroll through social media on my phone, there he always was. Every promotional photo of him I’d see, he would smile back at me as if he knew he had won, and he became this reminder of what I had sacrificed — myself. Seeing it then, when I felt at my lowest, with everyone smiling and clapping, made something inside me snap.

By the time we returned to the hotel that evening, I felt like a shell of myself. The day had been beautiful, filled with moments that should’ve felt magical, but instead, I felt like I was watching it all from a distance, unable to fully participate. Nicholas held my hand as we stepped into the elevator, his thumb brushing over my knuckles absentmindedly. I could feel his gaze flicking toward me, searching for something I wasn’t ready to give.

When we reached our room, I barely made it through the door before the tears started to fall. I tried to stifle them, turning my back to Nicholas as I set my bag down on the chair and made my way to the bedroom. But the weight of everything — the months of running on empty, the sacrifices I’d made without fully realizing their cost, the suffocating presence of Patrick Bateman in every city, every billboard — it all came crashing down.

Nicholas was quietly going on about what we could do few our last few days in Mexico. I could hear his voice carrying on in the other room, his enthusiasm unwavering, but all I wanted was silence. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands trembling as I tried to catch my breath, the weight of everything pressing down on me. By the time Nicholas joined me, I was curled up, tears silently streaming down my face. I really didn’t mean for him to see me this way, but I just couldn’t keep it in anymore.

He froze in the doorway, his smile faltering as he took in my crumpled form. “(Y/N),” he said softly, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I shook my head, unable to find the words to explain the storm inside me. He crouched down beside me, his hands gently cupping my face as he wiped away my tears with his thumbs. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice full of concern. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“I… I can’t do this anymore, Nic,” I finally choked out, my voice breaking. “I thought I could handle it, but I can’t. It’s too much. I feel like I’ve lost myself completely.”

His brows furrowed, his grip on my face tightening slightly as if to anchor me. “What do you mean?”

“I gave up everything to be here with you,” I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. “My job, my independence, my sense of who I am. I wanted to support you, but I feel like I’ve disappeared in the process. And it’s not your fault — it’s mine. I’m the one that let this happen.”

Nicholas’s face crumpled, guilt washing over his features. “No, it’s not your fault. I should’ve seen how much this was weighing on you. I should’ve—”

“Stop,” I interrupted, my voice shaky. “This isn’t about blame. I just… I need a break from everything. From the tour, from all of this.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and I could see the panic rising in Nicholas’s eyes. “A break?” he echoed, his voice tinged with desperation. “What kind of break?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my hands twisting in my lap. “I just know I can’t keep going, not like this.”

As his eyes desperately flicked between both of mine, a flicker of an idea sparked in his eyes. “Wait here,” he said, his voice steady but determined. 

I sat up, my feet dangling off the foot of the bed as I watched him stand on his feet and walk over to his suitcase. He rummaged through the piles of clothing , pulling something out from under. I didn’t know what it was, but it was something that made his body tense. He turned around then, slowly walking back over and kneeling down in front of me.

Carefully, he held out that damned red tie in front of me. “You gave me this when I was breaking down. You let me let go of everything.”

I stared at the tie, my breath hitching as I realized what he was asking. “Nic—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice cracking with urgency. He knelt closer, holding the tie out like it was some kind of salvation. “You let me fall apart when I needed it most. You didn’t judge me, and you helped me through it. Now… now I want to do the same for you. Use this. Use me. Whatever you’re holding onto, whatever you’re feeling — anger, frustration, resentment — let it out. Tie me up, hit me, scream, I don’t care. Just… don’t hold it in anymore.”

I stared at him, the tie trembling slightly in his hands. My chest tightened, and I shook my head, trying to form words through the lump in my throat. “Nic, this isn’t the same.”

His shoulders dropped slightly, but his hands remained steady, holding the tie out to me like a lifeline. “You don’t know that,” he said softly, his voice laced with desperation. “You’ve carried so much for me, for us. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Let me take it.”

Against my better judgment, I took the tie from his hands, my fingers trembling as I ran them over the familiar silk. It felt heavier than it should, like it carried all the unspoken words and emotions between us. I clutched it tightly, my knuckles white, as I looked down at him. He was kneeling there, his wrists offered to me, his gaze unwavering despite the vulnerability etched into his features.

“Do whatever you need to do,” he said softly, his brown eyes full of vulnerability.

I waved away his wrists, my hands trembling as I brought the tie up to his head, tying it around his eyes. Nicholas’s breath hitched as I slipped the tie around his head, his body tensing beneath my touch. I could see his chest rise and fall with every heavy breath as he clasped his hands behind his back. Even blindfolded, he exuded trust, surrendering himself entirely to me in a way that both broke my heart and made it swell.

He whispered softly, “I trust you.”

Those words pushed a lump into my throat, and I struggled to keep my composure. I knelt down in front of him, carefully placing my hands on his chest to feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my palms. My fingers curled into fists, and I gave him a soft thump against his chest.

It wasn’t anything at all, but it made his head tilt slightly, his lips parting as if he could hear the weight behind the gesture. “Good. Do it again,” he murmured.

I bit my lip, the frustration and confusion swirling inside me like a storm. I struck his chest again, a little harder this time, but it still felt wrong. “Nic,” I said, my voice shaky, “I don’t think I can…”

I wanted to be angry, to release all the frustration I had bottled up for months, but the truth was, it wasn’t anger I felt anymore. It was sadness. Exhaustion. A bone-deep ache that no amount of hitting or yelling could cure.

“Yes, you can,” he urged, his voice gentle yet firm. “Whatever you’re feeling, let it out. Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

He could take it, but could I?

I tried again, my hands pressing into his chest with a tremor of force, but then my arms fell limp. The tears came hard and fast, spilling over as I crumpled forward, burying my face into Nicholas’s chest, sobbing fully into his chest.

“I can’t,” I choked out between sobs. “I can’t do this, Nic.”

In an instant, I felt his arms wrap around me, holding me tightly as I cried against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I just — I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to lose you.”

I cried harder then, and I could feel him start to cry, too.

We stayed like that, crumpled together on the floor, our emotions spilling over, mixing and melding into one shared, raw moment. Nicholas’s arms wrapped around me tighter, as if he feared that letting go would mean losing me entirely. His tears soaked into my shoulder, his breaths ragged against my neck. He was holding me together even as he fell apart himself.

“Tell me what you need,” he choked through his cries, “I’ll do anything, please.”

My hands clutched his bare chest, holding onto him as though he was the only thing anchoring me to reality. “I want to go home,” I cried.

The words felt heavy, like an admission of defeat, but it felt like a weight that I had been carrying for the past 6 months had finally lifted.

I didn’t end up going home. At least, not to my parents’ house. I thought about it, but the idea of retreating to my childhood bedroom felt wrong. It wasn’t the place to sort through my feelings, and I didn’t want my mom to have the satisfaction of being right. Instead, I ended up going to a place near and dear to my heart — the island. It was exactly as I remembered it, and the perfect place for me to shut myself away from the world.

Every day, the waves greeted me like an old friend, their steady crashes lulling me into a sense of calm I hadn’t felt in months. I walked the beach for hours, dragging my feet through the warm sand, letting the tide pull me closer and further away, as if it understood the push and pull I felt within myself. Here, time didn’t matter. The sun rose and set, the tide ebbed and flowed, and I let myself simply be. It was exactly what I needed.

Returning to this beach — this island — where my journey with Nicholas had begun, felt bittersweet. I thought about the person I’d been back then — wide-eyed, hesitant, yet eager to explore the unknown. And now, here I was, trying to find my footing again.

I sat on the sand overlooking the shoreline, hugging my knees to my chest, letting the salty breeze wash over me. The sound of the waves was the only thing grounding me in that moment, pulling me away from the whirlwind of memories threatening to overwhelm me.

I thought about Nicholas, the way his eyes had filled with desperation and pain when I told him I needed to leave. I thought about his touch, the way he always tried to anchor me when I felt like I was drifting. And I thought about his smile, the one that could light up an entire room and make me believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

I hadn’t talked to him since I left him alone at the hotel in Mexico seven days ago. There were moments I thought about calling him, just to hear his voice, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He needed to focus on the press junkets, and I needed to focus on myself. Still, every night as I lay in the crisp white sheets of my hotel bed, I wondered if he was thinking about me too.

It was the day of the American Psycho movie premiere, and while Nicholas was getting his suit steamed and getting his hair brushed back, I was here at The End of The Road staring out into the horizon. I made sure to send him a message, short and simple: Good luck tonight. I’m so proud of you <3. I didn’t expect a response, but it didn’t matter. I just wanted him to know that, no matter what, I was proud of him. He had come so far in so little time, how could I not be proud of him?

But why couldn’t I feel that same pride for myself? I had come so far, too. I met my first real love, I stood up to my mom, I moved out of the house and across the country, I saw the world… I had done so much, but somewhere along the way, pieces of me had been chipped away.

I used to think finding myself would be this grand, transformative moment, like flipping a switch and suddenly knowing exactly who I was and what I wanted. But now, sitting here with the sand sticking to my legs and the breeze tugging at my sweater, I realized that maybe finding myself was less about grand revelations and more about rediscovering those little pieces I’d lost along the way.

Back then, before Nicholas, I’d had a rhythm to my life. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. I had a job that, while not exactly fulfilling, gave me independence. I had hobbies, passions. I loved Nicholas with all my heart — that was never the question. But somewhere between following him to New York, quitting my job, and boarding planes to cities I’d only dreamed of visiting, I’d let my identity become tied to his.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. He never asked me to give up those parts of myself. If anything, he encouraged me to hold onto them, to keep my sense of self intact. But I had let my eagerness to support him, to be the perfect partner, overtake everything else. I had wanted so badly to prove I could handle his world, that I could fit into it without losing myself, that I hadn’t noticed the slow erosion of my boundaries until there was almost nothing left.

As I stared at the waves, I thought about what I wanted now. Not just in this moment, but for my future. I wanted to feel like me again. I wanted to wake up in the morning and feel proud of the choices I was making, the life I was building.

But how?

I couldn’t go back to the person I was before Nicholas — I didn’t want to. That version of me hadn’t experienced the highs and lows of our relationship, hadn’t grown through the challenges we’d faced together. But I could start piecing together a new version of myself, one that combined the person I used to be with the person I was becoming.

Maybe that meant finding a new job — one that still felt meaningful. Maybe it meant setting boundaries, learning to say no to events or trips that drained me, even if it disappointed Nicholas. Maybe it meant carving out time and space for my own passions, whether that was painting or even writing a book just because I could.

It also meant having a real conversation with Nicholas. He had been so open with me in Mexico, so willing to take responsibility for his part in our imbalance. But it wasn’t just on him. I needed to own up to the ways I had let myself slip away, the times I had said yes when I should have said no, the ways I had failed to advocate for what I needed.

And even though all these thoughts and solutions were racing around in my head, I realized I didn’t need to have all the answers at that moment. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was giving myself permission to not have everything figured out. To just exist, to just… breathe.

By then, the sun had already set and stars slowly started to populate the inky sky. Having reflected enough for the day, I walked over to my car and drove back to the hotel.

The drive back was quiet, the hum of the tires on the road almost meditative. The stars above twinkled faintly through the windshield, a reminder that even the vastness of the sky could hold light in its darkest corners. The heaviness in my chest was still there, but it felt a little less suffocating after my time by the ocean. I didn’t have all the answers, but at least I felt a sense of clarity — a place to start.

When I pushed open the door to my room, 5 — trust me, the irony wasn’t lost on me — the soft glow of the bedside lamp greeted me. The room was untouched, everything exactly as I’d left it. My sandals hit the floor with a quiet thud as I walked to the bed, sitting down on the edge and letting out a quiet yawn.

I sat there, the room feeling cavernous despite its cozy size. The faint hum of the air conditioning filled the silence, but my mind was anything but quiet. Then, suddenly, a knock sounded through the door.

It wasn’t tentative or demanding, just a steady knock, but I thought I had just imagined until again, a knock came through. My breath hitched, my pulse quickening as I stood and crossed the room. My hand paused on the handle, hesitating for a moment before I pulled it open.

It was Nicholas.

“Nic,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I stumbled back. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

He stood there, still dressed in his premiere outfit. His tuxedo jacket was perfectly tailored, but the bow tie around his neck was slightly undone, hanging loose against the crisp blue shirt. His eyes, however, were what caught me. They were filled with a quiet intensity, a mix of exhaustion, worry, and something softer — understanding. His chest was rising and falling, like he had just run up the stairs coming up here.

“W-what are you doing here?” I questioned. “Why aren’t you at the movie premiere?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind him. The soft click echoed in the room, and suddenly the air felt heavier. He stood there, only a few feet away, his gaze fixed on mine.

He swallowed his breath, slowly making his way across the room, “I walked the carpet, I posed for the cameras… but none of it mattered.” He spun around, his eyes intense, “None of it mattered because I couldn’t take another day being away from you.”

I blinked, my throat tightening. “Nicholas,” I said softly, my voice cracking under the weight of his words. “You shouldn’t have left — this is your moment. The premiere, your hard work—”

“It doesn’t mean a damn thing without you,” he interrupted, his voice low but steady. He stood just a few feet away now, his hands clenched at his sides, as though holding himself back from closing the distance completely. “I didn’t come here to argue or try to convince you to come back. I came because… I wanted you to know that I understand.”

I froze, his words hitting me harder than I expected. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, his expression softening as he continued.

“You’ve been carrying so much, (Y/N). Not just your struggles, but mine too. All of it. I let you carry the weight of my world while you were still trying to figure out your own. And I didn’t see it — not the way I should have.” He exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I see it now.”

My chest tightened, tears threatening to spill over again. “Nic, it’s not your fault. I—”

“No,” he cut in gently, his voice firm but filled with tenderness. “Let me say this.” He took another step forward, his gaze locked on mine. “You gave up so much for me. Your job, your independence, your time. You supported me through every milestone, every success these last six months, and I got so caught up in all of it that I didn’t stop to ask if you were okay. And the fact that I wasn’t there for you the way you were for me all of those restless nights… it breaks my heart, because that’s not what I had promised you.”

Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back. “I chose this, Nic. I wanted to be there for you.”

“And I love you for that,” he said, his voice softening. “But I should’ve made sure you were taking care of yourself too.”

His words broke something inside me, and I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They spilled over, hot and heavy, as I pressed a hand to my mouth. Nicholas stepped closer, finally closing the gap between us. He cupped my face gently, his thumbs wiping away the tears that refused to stop.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to give up who you are to be with me,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I love you for you — for everything that makes you who you are. And I want to build a balance together, one where neither of us has to sacrifice our identity for the other. You shouldn’t have to disappear for me to shine, and I’m so sorry for letting that happen.”

A sob escaped me, and I leaned into him, my arms wrapping around his waist. He held me close, as though he was trying to fuse us together. I felt his warmth. It felt like home.

His fingers gently stroked my hair, and I let out a shaky breath, leaning into him as if he was the only thing tethering me to the moment. Nicholas stepped back slightly, his hands settling on my shoulders as he studied my face, his own expression pained but resolute.

“There’s something I need to do,” he said softly, his voice steady even as his hands trembled.

I looked at him, confused, as he reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. For a moment, I thought he was about to pull out some very grand gesture that would’ve been way too early of a step in our relationship, but instead, he held out something that made my breath catch in my throat.

The red tie.

Patrick Bateman’s tie.

The sight of it sent a wave of emotion crashing over me. It was as though everything I’d been holding back, every silent frustration, every unspoken word, was encapsulated in that piece of fabric. My chest tightened, but before I could say anything, Nicholas spoke.

“This,” he said, holding the tie between his fingers like it was something poisonous, “has been a symbol of everything I let take over my life. Everything I let hurt us.” His voice wavered, but his gaze was firm as he looked at me. “I thought us keeping it would be a reminder of what we’d overcome, but it’s only become a weight. On me, on us.”

I watched, frozen, as he walked toward the window, his movements deliberate. He unlocked the latch and pushed the window open, letting the cool sea breeze fill the room.

Nicholas held the tie out over the edge, his fingers gripping it tightly as he looked back at me. “We don’t need this anymore. Not in my pocket, not in our life.”

Before I could respond, he let it go. The tie fluttered in the breeze, a streak of crimson against the night sky, before disappearing into the distance. My heart felt like it stopped for a moment as I watched it vanish, and then, like the rush of air after holding your breath too long, I felt something inside me loosen.

Nicholas turned back to me, his face soft but serious. “I can’t erase what this role has done, what it’s taken from us. But I can promise you that moving forward, we rebuild together. On our terms, and neither of our work is going to disrupt that.”

Tears streamed down my face, but for the first time in what felt like weeks, they weren’t tears of exhaustion or frustration. They were tears of release, of relief. I crossed the room to him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he held me close.

“I love you,” I whispered against his shoulder, my voice trembling but sure. “So much.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his forehead pressing gently against mine. “I love you, too. And I’m not letting us slip away, ever, ever again.”

The weight I’d been carrying — the exhaustion, the compromises, the slow erosion of my sense of self — seemed to ease, replaced by the warmth of his arms around me. Nicholas held me tightly, like he was anchoring us both to something real, something steady. 

The red tie, Bateman, all the chaos of the past year — it was gone now, fluttering somewhere out there in the night, where it belonged. What remained was just us: the boy I met on the beach, the man who made me laugh even when I didn’t want to, the one who followed me across the country because he refused to let me go.

I pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. There was no trace of Bateman in his eyes now, only Nicholas — kind, unguarded, a little broken but still standing. And me? I wasn’t fixed, not yet. There were still pieces of myself I needed to find again, pieces I wanted to rebuild on my own. But for the first time, I felt like I could tell him that without fear because through all the noise and the shadows, we’d made it here, to this quiet, honest moment. It was ours. Not his, not mine — ours.

[alexiroflife]

"it's not for me to say"

tooth rotting, stomach aching, heart palpitating fluff

kento nanami x reader

Synopsis: you and your husband share a dance in your living room after your anniversary dinner

to sum it up: married life with nanami >>>>

WC: 1,429

Warning(s): none

It's not for me to say you love me

It's not for me to say you'll always care

The room is empty. The fairy lights strung messily about the four corners of the walls light up the space delicately as the vinyl spins tirelessly in the corner, confined to the needle that the deep red record player presses into the disc. Dirty dinner plates sit atop the oak wood of the dining table, the disarray of kitchenware and dishes completely forgotten. The fireplace burns and crackles comfortingly, warming the legs of the couple standing just a few feet away from it. The soft vocals of muffled jazz matches with the gentle hums emitting from the dirty blonde's lips as he holds his partner close. The rest of the home stands still and silent, as if frozen in time to allow the serenity of the darling moments occuring within the dining room to extend into the night.

Oh, but here for the moment I can hold you fast

Your head is tucked just under Nanami’s chin and cheek pressed against his chest. The softness of your hair tickles his neck perfectly, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks at the gentle feeling: a reminder of your gentle grace. His large hand holds your waist snugly to his body, his fingers caressing the satin fabric of the crimson dress he purchased you for this very occasion. His left hand holds yours out, bejeweled fingers moving to trace your palm to imitate the strikes of the piano keys dancing in the background. Your eyes stay closed in serenity while they sway lazily to the music. You are far too busy soaking up the warmth of the fire against your skin and the warmth emanating off of your lover's embrace to be interrupted by opening your eyes just yet. You want to savor this, engrave it into your mind so that it may stay with you for years to come.

Nanami’s lips ghost over her forehead, sending the vibrations of his hums throughout your skin.

And press your lips to mine

And dream that love will last

The sorcerer’s heart hammers against his ribs in the best way imaginable, his chestnut eyes swollen with admiration. Happiness is a concept that had grown foreign to him for the majority of his life, and when he finally stumbled upon it by meeting you, he found it almost humorous that one person could enter his dull course of existence and change everything he believed he had known prior. 

The blonde inhales slowly through his nose as he pulls back to look down at the woman in his arms. You lift your head when you feel him shift against you and slowly blink open your eyes to gaze up at him softly. The deep (e/c) of your irises drags him deeper into her gaze, his pupils dilating almost instantly as he takes in your breathtaking features. Your free hand lifts from his shoulder and brushes the side of his face lightly and the short, silky strands of his hair blissfully. Your red glossed lips stretch into a dreamy smile upon taking in your husband’s striking face, eyes crinkling with the pull of your lips upward. Your knuckles graze over his sharp cheekbones, feeling his skin grow heated under your touch. His eyes flicker from yours to your nose, your lips, and all across her face. He could only define you as a dream, and in times like these, he could not believe that you were married to him.

As far as I can see this is heaven

And speaking just for me, it's ours to share

Nanami releases your hand and wraps both of his arms around your waist, yours instinctively moving to wrap around his neck. He leans forward so slowly until his nose brushes against yours. He feels your arms tighten around him as he brings his lips to press between your eyebrows tenderly. He then kisses your nose and the corner of her mouth before resting his forehead against yours. The blonde hears you release a contented sigh and smiles, proceeding to sway you in his arms as his thumbs rub the small of your back. Your lavender scent fills his senses, sending his mind into a blur. You’re everywhere, in his arms, in his mind, and in his heart. He closes his eyes this time, clinging to this peace and wishing it could last forever.

Perhaps the glow of love will grow with every passing day

He doesn’t want to lose this feeling. This terrible, beautiful, world-altering feeling. He wants to hold onto it, to you, for as long as he can, for he had been alone far too long before you brought light into his existence. Thinking back to a time when work occupied his loneliness when he didn't have your face to study in the mornings as the sun peaked shyly through the curtains, when he didn't have your stories to listen to as you rambled on about whatever your sophisticated mind was overanalyzing, or when he didn't have you to simply love and respect wholeheartedly; it made him wonder how he had come so far without you by his side. 

Nanami goes to bed each night pleading the universe not to take you, his lovely wife, away from him. You’re perfect; kind and understanding, far too perfect for this wounded planet. You work too hard and care too much for others, and he even finds your flaws are beautifully imperfect. To even think about your perfection, how perfectly you fit into his life and into his home choked him up and tightened his throat with gratitude. 

Or we may never meet again

But then, it's not for me to say

You can feel Nanami’s emotional thoughts as you look up at him curiously. Your hands move to hold his cheeks daintily, finding a better angle to look at his loving, thoughtful expression. You coo softly at the vision of him, whipped for you just as you are for him. You stroke his hair deftly, eyes scanning every familiar mark and handsome curve in his features. His glossy eyes meet yours in the midst of your touch, and no words are spoken. Only gazes were exchanged. 

He watches you intensely as you lean upward to close the distance, breaths fanning against each other’s lips. Your lips meet his in a chaste peck, his hands instinctively pressing further into her waist. You tilt your head and kiss the corner of his jaw next, and find yourself stifling a quiet giggle when you notice the imprint of your lipstick on his skin. The sound of your laughter sends a jolt to Nanami’s heart and dries his mouth, and he can’t fight the grin creeping onto his face within a matter of seconds, for absolutely anything you do makes him so wholly and indescribably happy. You make him feel like a damn teenager, or the kind of teen he would have been if he had not been negatively impacted by his experience at Jujutsu High, but that was all in the past. You are his present and his future. You are everything.

You bury your face into the crook of his neck and squeal when your feet suddenly leave the ground and your body is spun around giddily. 

And speaking just for me, it's ours to share

Perhaps the glow of love will grow with every passing day

Love is such a feeble word for what you two share, for it’s impossible to stuff the amount of time spent in each other’s arms, the plethora of stressed and exhausted tears shed, the range of sleepless nights you spent waiting your husband to return home anxiously, the meaningless arguments sparked by miscommunicated frustration and passion, the hardships overcome, and the way your souls bonded together throughout nights of prolonged passion into one, stupid made up word. A little word could never encapsulate the whole of the feeling Nanami experiences any time your skin touches his, or the complete security and luxury you feel under the protection of his affectionate gaze. What you have is more than love. More than any kind of emotion that can be searched online or found in a dictionary. More than you and him, more than the earth, more than the very universe. 

So you slow dance in your living room. soaking in one another because it is all you can do to say more than “I love you.”

Or we may never meet again

But then, it's not for me to say

[diejager]

What if in the step dad könig au where reader meets ghost and Soap she ends up getting pregnant with their child and she lies to könig and horangi saying it's theirs but when she gives birth to the baby or babies they look completely different?

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, pregnancy, lying, “cheating”, tell me if I missed any.

You hadn’t meant anything bad. Rather, you meant well, you meant to act as a responsible parent to your unborn children. They were so young and so vulnerable, minds still on the cusp of consciousness with their small kicks becoming more and more common. You used to hate being so swollen and restrained to a few tasks, but you’d grown used to it, something within that saddened mid of yours clicked and you fell in love with the small lives you were carrying in your womb. 

You knew whose kids they belonged to, who the fathers of your twins were, but König and Horangi didn’t. You’d kept your little night dates a secret from anyone other than close friends, meeting Simon and Johnny at the bar you often went to and left early on to their motel room. You’d been nervous at first, unused to the whole one night stand until they offered to drive you home and give you their numbers. It made it feel like it was more than a single night after you clicked.

And it wasn’t, you met whenever you could, sneaking out to meet Simon while Johnny prepped their motel room, embellishing the dull and dreary room they came to call home until they found the right house to buy. You’d forgotten about your lack of birth control, König had forced you to stop taking any kind of protection to ensure that it took every time they came in you. It left you feeling sick and self-conscious of the changes in your body while you lied to them, strongly small, white lies to keep them satisfied and calm.

You were glad they couldn’t see any characteristic from the printed ultrasound photos, protecting them from any kind of pain and trauma they would have suffered if it were known. All you could see was the strength of their hearts, the strong beat and the slight movement that made your heart skip a beat and them beam in joy. You felt relief then, your nerves lessened simply by their obliviousness of your situation, but now that you were in labour, having to introduce them to the world, your fear and anxiety had never been higher than it was now.

You were in tears, face flushed and hands clammy, having to push past the pain and push the babies out. The relied was instant once both were out, much to the dismay of the anger and shock of both men that stared down at the bob of blond and brown hair. They stewed in silent anger, you could see the red gleams in their eyes at the discovery that they’d been lied to, their promised children another’s. 

“We will celebrate once we’re home, nh?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[happy74827]

Late Night Serenity

[Harvey Specter x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Harvey doesn’t particularly let out his feelings much, so when you get a call in the middle of the night, completely unannounced, it’s safe to say you’re there within a heartbeat.

WC: 1134

Category: Slight Angst, Comfort

I wrote this at 3am after watching an edit... yeah, not my brightest moment. But hey, this beauty came out of it :)

『••✎••』

“Harvey…?” You spoke into the phone, a little concerned as to why he called you at such a late hour. You were already in bed and about to fall asleep.

There was a short silence before he answered, almost as if he was waiting for the right words.

Finally, he replied, and you heard the slight hesitation in his voice, the uncertainty, and the exhaustion.

"Yeah?"

You were instantly on alert, but you made your voice calm and soft so he wouldn't hear your worry. "Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over?"

There was another pause, this one longer than the first. Your worry increased. You sat up, already pulling on a sweater, trying to get ready to go to Harvey's.

"No. No, it's alright. I just wanted to hear your voice. Sorry to wake you."

Your mind raced, trying to decipher Harvey's words and the hidden meaning behind them. His tone wasn't right; it was too quiet and too sad, nothing like the normal cocky, self-assured, sometimes slightly arrogant tone.

"You didn't wake me. Is something wrong, Harvey?"

You heard him sigh, then the sound of a door shutting and the muffled sounds of the city streets. He must have stepped out of his office, maybe gone outside.

"No. Everything is fine; It's okay. Go back to bed."

He didn't sound okay. In fact, he sounded a bit upset, though not like he was angry, more like he was frustrated.

You slipped on your shoes and coat, grabbed your keys and wallet, and quietly opened the door.

"Where are you? Home? I'll meet you there."

"What? No, no, that's not-"

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Wait for me, okay? Don't go anywhere."

You could almost hear him frown through the phone. "I can't ask you to do that. You don't have to.”

"Harvey," you interrupted him again. "I'm coming, alright? See you soon."

You hung up before he could protest more and drove as fast as you could to his apartment.

Once you arrived, you saw that Harvey was waiting for you outside. He looked exhausted and was staring up at the sky, his hands in his pockets. He was still in his work suit but had taken off his tie and jacket, leaving his top few buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up.

"Harvey?"

He jumped slightly and looked over at you. The moment he saw you, he relaxed and gave a half smile, but you could tell he was still worried.

“Hey, Bumblebee,” His nickname for you. You had told him how you hated bees when you were younger and had a fear of being stung, and ever since, he had called you Bumblebee, telling you that you were the cutest little bumblebee. It was definitely meant to be teasing, but somehow, the way he said it was never mean or rude, and you secretly loved it no matter how much you’d deny it.

“What was it? Mike?” You guessed, referring to Harvey's associate, whom he had taken under his wing a while back. Harvey shook his head.

"Jessica, actually."

You raised an eyebrow.

"She found out and wants me to fire him. But I can't, I just can't, not now."

"I’m sorry, Harv, but you knew it was a risk, right? She had to have found out eventually.”

"Yeah, I know, I just thought maybe... maybe I wouldn't have to, and we could figure something out. He’s got so much potential.”

Harvey looked down and sighed. He looked so tired, but you knew his mind was racing, always trying to find a way to fix things. He had been working with Mike for a while now, and even though he would never admit it, you knew Harvey cared about him and had grown attached to his presence.

And when Harvey gets attached, he hates to lose.

Your hands found his arms, and you squeezed gently, trying to reassure him. You had done this plenty of times in the past, and you knew it worked.

"Look at me," you told him, and he did. His dark brown eyes met yours, and you were almost startled by the amount of emotion in them. He was always good at hiding how he felt, but you could see through his mask, and you saw how upset he was.

"You’ll figure it out; you always do. And even if somehow you don't, it's not the end of the world. He could always… you know, actually, go to law school."

Harvey laughed quietly, and the sound warmed your heart. He was finally relaxing, slowly calming down.

"No, that's not an option," he replied.

"Right. I forgot how stubborn you both are."

You smiled, and Harvey smiled back. He had the most wonderful smile, the kind that always made you happy no matter what was happening.

"I'm glad you came," Harvey said, taking a step closer. His hands found your waist, and yours reached up to wrap around his neck. You could feel the warmth from his body through your clothes, and you leaned in, resting your head against his chest.

"Me too. Especially when you’re in a mellow mood," you teased. Harvey chuckled and rubbed your back. “That's rare."

"Hey," Harvey replied, feigning offense. "I'm not always a dick, you know."

"About eighty percent of the time," you grinned, looking up at him. Harvey's smile faded, and his eyes locked on yours, gazing at you with a certain intensity that made your breath catch.

You stared at each other for a few moments, neither one of you moving, until Harvey suddenly leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, his hand cupping your cheek and the other wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you against him.

The kiss was slow and sweet but full of all the emotions that neither of you could say. There was no rush, no desperate passion or need, just the two of you together.

After a while, Harvey pulled away but kept his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

He didn’t say anything, but you knew exactly what he was thinking. You had spent enough time with him to be able to read him perfectly.

Thank you.

Thank you for being here.

Thank you for caring.

Thank you for being mine.

You reached up and kissed his nose.

"Love you," you whispered.

"I know," Harvey replied. His lips turned up into a smirk, and you rolled your eyes, trying to act annoyed but not doing a very good job of it.

“You’re proving my point, Harv.”

Harvey shrugged. "But you love me anyway, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I really do."

“Good,” His lips brushed against yours, and his smile was still there, but his eyes were serious. “Glad to know we feel the same way.”

[taesanrot]

[thinkin bout you] taesan x f!reader | 5.8k words high school au, childhood friends 2 lovers, slight e2l, fake dating, first kiss, moving away and reunion kinda ???, also bffs 2 lovers ish, smut at the end note. happy (late) birthday to my lovely kay <333 hope u love it my cherry pie. sorry to everyone for how long this took, finishing this fic almost broke me. (and yes heres another taesan fic for the anon who was asking). also highly recommend listening to steve lacy while reading this, the plot was v inspired by infrunami and the entire lo-fis album :]

the first time you met taesan, he didn't give the grandest first impression. not that you really expected to be blown away by a six year old boy, but meeting him while he was covered in mud wasn't what you were anticipating either.

your family had just moved next to the boy's house, and as you picked dandelions and flowers from the front yard to collect and keep, you couldn't help but notice a young boy playing in the garden of the house next door. turning to see you, the boy giddily bounded over to you, introducing himself joyfully.

you should've been nicer; he was just another little boy enjoying the breezy summer day, but you couldn't help scrunching your nose as you eyed him up and down. his knees were green with grass stains and his arms and legs were covered with swipes of dirt, a bit of mud sticking to his cheek.

within a minute, his mother noticed her son poking his nose outside of the yard and came over to collect him, chiding his dirtiness and sending him back to his own abode. taesan pouted for less than a second before smiling brightly at you, waving happily as he ran back to his house. you frowned slightly at his bright demeanor.

although you were the same age as taesan, something both of your mothers were delighted by, you considered yourself more mature and too grown up for kiddish activities, and this logic applied to others your age as well.

growing up as well, you found boys to be immature and difficult creatures, always finding yourself repelled by their confusing antics. taesan was just any other boy to you, childish and juvenile.

despite your obvious disdain towards the young boy, your families still spent a great deal of time together. they were always encouraging the two of you to get along; you never had any of it.

taesan caught onto this attitude pretty quickly as well, wondering why you didn't like him. he decided he'd rather play with his toy cars and lay in the grass than dwell on it though.

this was how your dynamic was, the two of you in an unspoken agreement that it would be better to just leave each other alone.

you saw less and less of taesan after his parents decided to enroll him in a private school to finish out his middle and high school years. to be honest, you couldn't have cared less -- your childish neighbor was far from your mind as you immersed yourself in your high school sports, particularly enjoying volleyball and swimming.

being on both teams for your school and trying to keep your grades up took up the majority of your time, meaning you hadn't exactly experienced the infamous teenage romance, as your parents liked to call it.

you didn't know why your parents cared about your love life so much. you felt perfectly content with your school activities and your various friends, not feeling the need to burden yourself with a boyfriend.

taesan was similar to you in that way; after growing into adolescence and beginning teenagerhood he began to delve into music, writing and composing songs became his life. granted, he'd had a couple flings here and there, so he wasn't completely in the dark when it came to relationships.

for his final semester of his senior year, taesan ended up transferring back to your high school. you found out about this when you watched him run out the front door one morning as you were unlocking your car, ready to drive yourself to school.

you almost didn't realize it was him, granted the last time you'd gotten a proper glance at him was when the two of you were maybe 12. his once chestnut brown hair was dyed jet black, and the curliness of it had settled and loosened so it was just slightly wavy.

he'd grown at least half a foot, shoulders broad and sturdy. you eyed his long legs that carried him to the bus that he was practically chasing. biting a laugh back, you watched him sheepishly smile at the bus driver, who rolled his eyes before letting the boy on.

the next time you saw taesan was that evening actually. returning home after swim practice, you saw your mom in the living room vacuuming the floors. pausing for a moment, she unplugged the machine to greet you, hugging you gently and asking how your day was.

"nothing crazy. practice was fine too." your mom fought the urge to sigh out loud. you were always talking about sports while she was constantly hoping you'd come back telling her that you'd met someone.

"that's great, honey" she faked a smile at your denseness, turning around to continue cleaning.

"taesan's back." for a moment, your mom looked caught off guard before smiling again, hoping if she acted normal you'd be encouraged to continue.

"and?"

"he looks different" you spoke as you fell onto the couch, rubbing the back of your neck.

"it's been years since the last time you saw him, hasn't it?" you nodded.

"he's going to my school now." you smiled again thinking about how silly he'd looked this morning.

"i know, i invited him and his mom over for dinner today." your mom replied sheepishly, anticipating an outburst of sorts from her daughter.

"what?" you sputtered in surprise, eyes wide as you stared at your mom.

"what? they're our neighbors, plus i haven't had a chance to catch up with mrs. han in a while." you groaned at the idea of an awkward dinner and having to dress nicely. you trudged up the stairs to your room to wash your hair and find some decent looking clothes that weren't your team sweats.

++

you were helping your mom set the table when the doorbell rang, sighing as your mom giggled and turned to answer the door. hearing both of your moms' giddy voices around the corner as they greeted each other, you sat on the couch in your living room. taesan walked past his mom and your mom reuniting and appeared around the corner, meeting the sight of you scrolling on your phone on the couch, smiling as you texted someone.

"hey." your gaze immediately fixed on taesan. he had grown up well, his jawline defined and lips tinted pink. his mouth had sort of a natural pout to it, and his eyes were a pretty shade of chocolate. his hair was long, bangs growing out and parted down the middle to fall down his ears and frame his face.

you made note of his figure as well, shoulders broad and torso narrowed into his waist. he was tall, much taller than you'd thought this morning.

standing at the end of the couch you were on, his hands were stuffed in his pockets as he took you in.

you'd also grown up quite a bit in the past couple years. your once shorter hair was longer and flowed down your shoulders, with partially lightened streaks sprinkled throughout from swimming.

you were also quite toned from how active you were, and taesan's eyes traced the lines down your neck as you straightened your posture.

"hi." you replied, lazy voice contrasting your stiff demeanor. he eyed your dressy top and jeans before looking down at his old band tee and ripped jeans.

"was i supposed to wear something nicer?" he asked sheepishly, shoulders slumping in relief as you shook your head no and smiled at him softly.

dinner wasn't really anything unordinary, mainly consisting of your parents conversing with taesan's mother as you and the boy ate in silence next to each other. at one point, you heard your name tossed around in conversation, looking up in response.

"y/n! you and taesan should carpool to school together!" you fought to suppress a groan and eye roll as you watched your moms cheerily converse about the arrangement.

you enjoyed your drives to and from school alone, giving you some peace and solitude. no more of that, i guess, you thought bitterly.

++

"you ride to school in silence?" taesan asked after swinging your car door open and stepping in. you yawned loudly. early mornings never really agreed with you.

"i don't really have time to listen to music." taesan raised his eyebrow at this.

"don't have time? what are you, the president?" surprisingly, taesan's quips made you crack a smile. considering how you'd felt about him before, you figured riding with him would be a bother.

as you got to know taesan better, though, you realized there was much more to your neighbor than met the eye. he introduced you to his favorite bands and showed you various musical genres. he taught you about a new genre every week, on a personal mission to help you find your favorite. you enjoyed watching him geek out about music, and you began to learn which artists and genres you liked the most.

eventually, taesan would come wait for your practices to end, often sitting in the bleachers and working on homework with headphones shoved in his ears.

you'd always bound up to him after, breathing shallowly as you tugged his earbuds to let him know you were done. he found you to be like a puppy at times like that, panting and waiting for him to pack up his stuff so the two of you could return home.

"is volleyball hard?" he asked one day on your drive home. this week was indie, a soft steve lacy song floating through the air as you turned to look at him.

"not really, it's pretty simple." taesan's face told you he disagreed. before he open his mouth retaliate, you spoke.

"i can teach you."

spending time with taesan was easy. sometimes, you felt like you were going crazy, pulling any excuse from the book to spend time with him. the two of you clicked so well, something that caught you off guard much more than you'd like to admit.

++

the semester passed by quicker than you could blink, and suddenly you were swept up in end of the year preparations. before you knew it, you were graduating.

pulling the cap over your hair, you turned to your parents.

"how do i look?" they both smiled happily at you, mirroring your own bright grin.

the ceremony felt like a dream, or like you were watching yourself out of your own body. diploma in hand, you were now outside, taking pictures with your various teammates and friends and teachers. at one point, while you were snapping pictures with your friend, belle, you caught a glimpse of raven black hair in the crowd.

glancing over, you saw taesan taking pictures with a small group of boys, the same ones you'd seen him around school with. there were also a couple of guys also looked about your age but weren't in caps and gowns.

either way, taesan's smile shone brighter and grasped your attention more than anything else. his eyes shrunk into crescents and his teeth were pearly white; if you squinted, a halo would probably appear over his head. you watched with a small smile as his friends pulled at his cap and ruffled his hair affectionately.

eventually, the two of your moms found each other and you were being pushed next to taesan to take a picture together.

"smile, kids!" you couldn't help but smile at their giddiness. looking up at taesan, you saw him chuckling as well. his arm wrapped around your side as your parent's cameras flashed.

"you both look so lovely together!" your face reddened with embarrassment at your mom's words, and you quickly slapped her arm to shut her up. taesan was left watching you walk away from him, eyes trained on the way your hair swung and how the wind ruffled your gown.

++

with school finally out, summer was in full swing. you didn't have any plans in particular, wanting to make the most of the next few months before the next phase of your life.

your mother seemed to have other plans, though. while you could tell she was less than happy with your lack of a boyfriend or even a fling throughout high school, she wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.

"y/n honey, mrs. jung's son is single. he's a sweet boy, you two should go out!"

"mom i said n--"

"and you're free thursday evening, perfect! i just texted his mom back!"

the date went as you expected -- painfully awkward. the two of you simply didn't mesh, conversation always fading off into thick silence. your frustration with your mother certainly didn't help either, you thought as you accidentally slammed the boy's car door when he picked you up.

falling onto your bed, you sighed and yanked your phone out of your purse, calling taesan. he was probably working on some beats right now anyways. the phone rung for a few seconds before you heard his raspy voice on the other side of the line.

"what's up?" he spoke lazily. you could hear the squeak of his chair as he leaned back in it.

"my mom sent me on a blind date." hearing him snicker at the other end of the line, you frowned.

"no way, how'd it go?" you answered with a loud ugh, causing taesan to fully burst out laughing.

"terrible, it was so fucking awkwa-- stop laughing asshole!" you cursed at taesan's chuckles.

"when did your mom decide to be your wingwoman?" you groaned, rolling over in your bed and fiddling with the end of your blanket.

"i don't know, but i hope this is the last one." you sighed in response.

++

unfortunately, fate was not on your side; the date with mrs jung's son was only the beginning of your mother's antics. your friday night plans now routinely consisted of an uncomfortable dinner date and ranting to taesan about it after.

ringing his doorbell, you waited for someone to answer while scrolling through your phone. you deleted your date, gyuvin's, number and hoped to god he picked up on your disinterest and didn't text you again.

looking up as the door opened, you were met with taesan's mother. mrs. han pulled you into a warm hug as she asked how your night was.

"ugh, don't ask, mrs han. i don't know how many more of these dates i can do." she smiled fondly at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you two walked into the house.

"i'm sure you'll find the right guy eventually sweetie, he might be right under your nose." mrs. han elbowed you slightly, her expression playful. you laughed and kicked off your shoes.

"is taesan in his room?" she nodded and teasingly shooed you up the stairs.

taesan heard your slow steps up the stairs, not bothering to look up from his laptop until you were standing in his doorway, arms crossed. you were silently waiting: for acknowledgement and permission to come in. you knew you were always welcome into the boy's room, but taesan silently appreciated the way you respected his space.

"hey." he spoke, smiling and pausing the track playing from his laptop. he had been mixing, as usual. the second his voice left his lips, your shoulders slumped and you threw yourself face down onto his bed, groaning.

"i hate my life." you grumbled, the sound of your voice muffled by taesan's duvet. he chuckled, patting the back of your head playfully.

"there, there." he murmured sarcastically, and you rolled over so you could smack his hand away. taesan looked far more comfortable than you, in his pajama pants and a sweatshirt rather than a tight, uncomfortable blouse and skinny jeans.

the boy listened to you like a puppy as you delved into all the unfortunate details of your night.

"he showed up on a bike?" taesan's face was nearly red as he fought to not laugh. your already grumpy frown only deepened further, and you brought your hands up to massage your temples gently.

taesan's eyes locked on your fingers, mesmerized by your slow movements. moving his gaze down further, he quietly watched your muscles in your hand and forearm tense and contract with your ministrations.

the boy wouldn't tell you this, but he loved the nicer tops you wore, he loved when he could see the way your collarbone sat and trace the delicate curve of your neck with his eyes.

"taesan?" your quiet voice broke him out of his stupor of thought. his eyes refocused on your face, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. he hoped his hair was covering his reddened ears.

"why don't you just tell your mom you don't wanna go on dates anymore?" he spoke lazily, ignoring the way you narrowed your eyes, still trying to read into his previous glances. you shook your head, turning onto your back to face the ceiling. taesan was still propped against the headboard, his laptop and headphones now set aside.

"she won't listen. i know it's because she cares about me and thinks she's helping me out but i'm really tired of the whole routine." taesan's eyes softened. besides your teammates at school and him, you really weren't the most social person out there, blooming the most in the company of those you cared about the most.

taesan could tell the dates had taken a toll on you; the anxious preparation and stiff conversation wore you out much more than you let on. taesan was glad you trusted him with your thoughts and feelings -- he always wanted to be there for you through anything.

the boy moved forward so he was leaning over you slightly and nudged your shoulder with his knee.

"this is gonna sound really stupid, but you could just tell your parents that we're dating." you wanted to laugh but no words left your mouth, mind frozen trying to process what he was saying.

truthfully, what took you more off guard was the soft look in taesan's eyes as he looked down at you through his fluffy bangs. sitting up, you looked for any hint of playfulness or sarcasm in his face.

"really?" you asked confusedly. you hoped you didn't sound off put by the idea, the last thing you wanted was to hurt the feelings of the boy trying to help you.

"i mean, it would get your mom off your back, right? plus, she'd be pretty happy to know it was me of all people that you're with." with that, you smiled and rolled your eyes while shoving taesan lightly.

"oh because you're the hottest guy to ever walk this earth." you laughed as taesan sulked.

"that's not what i meant! you're such an asshole sometimes." taesan's pouted in the most exaggerated way possible, making you chuckle even harder. he was happy you were smiling again.

"besides your little ego trip, i do think it's a good idea." you spoke quietly, slightly embarrassed at how much you liked the idea of taesan looking out for you.

the two of you didn't really set rules, just that you'd hold hands and act a little more affectionate when the time called for it. to be frank, you and taesan didn't have to do much more than you already did; the two of you hung out pretty often anyways, now opting for calling your get togethers "dates" for show.

your mom was obviously thrilled when you told her about you and taesan. she went on a whole tangent about how she just knew the two of you would finally realize you liked each other.

what surprised you more was taesan's mom's reaction. she was not one bit surprised, even going as far as giving both of you a knowing look as you shyly stood next to each other in the kitchen while she brewed her coffee.

you were puzzled, not only by her meaningful gaze at the two of you but also at the redness flushing onto taesan's neck and cheeks. you told yourself he was just embarrassed that his mom was acting so blunt.

friday came along, and for the first time in a month, you were free. no stupid blind date, no painful conversation that made you want to rip your throat out and use it as a garnish for your pasta.

"we should celebrate." you blurted into the silent air. you and taesan were both laying on your floor, music playing from your laptop on your desk as the two of you sat in each others' company. taesan was writing in his journal, probably working on song lyrics, while you read a book. looking up from his notes, taesan clicked his pen and smiled at you.

"what do you wanna do?" you didn't have to look at taesan to hear the smile in his voice. while the two of you already hung out pretty much every day, it felt like the two of you were attached by the hip ever since your arrangement began.

taesan might've been going crazy, but he was enjoying your company too much.

he realized something was wrong with him when he starting smiling while taking out the trash; all because taking out the trash meant he could glance over at your house and wonder what you were up to.

what is going on with me? he thought to himself as he bumped his forehead on the lid of the trashcan, trying to snap himself out of his you-induced daze.

"wanna go see a movie?" you suggested timidly, waiting for taesan's reaction. you don't why you were so worried, you knew he was always down to do anything, but for some reason you wanted to pick something you know he'd like.

"can we get slushies?" taesan shot back, already getting up from the floor and reaching a hand to help you up.

++

"your parking sucks," the boy in your passenger seat quipped as you nearly took up two parking spots in the cinema's parking lot. looking around, the lot was nearly empty anyways. you turned and flicked his forehead, laughing as he whined dramatically.

"shut up, idiot." you watched taesan make an offended face and grab his chest theatrically.

"idiot? is that how you treat your poor boyfriend." you laughed at his loud gasping. reaching over, you ruffled your hand in his hair.

"i might be nicer if my poor boyfriend was the one driving us." you teased jokingly.

"fuck you, my parents needed the car!"

++

stepping past the ticket counter, the two of you made your way to concessions, looking for snacks for the movie.

“i got it.” taesan mumbled as he took your drink cup from your hands and walked up to the counter. you followed him with a teasing smile on your face, watching him pay for both of your drinks and a shared popcorn.

“i’m swooning” you joked as he took the receipt from the cashier and handed your cup back to you. he rolled his eyes in response, muttering something along the lines of you being annoying. you knew he didn’t mean a word of it, a small smile painted on his face as the two of you walked over to the drink station.

as you filled up your slushie, you suddenly felt taesan behind you. he quickly brought a hand to rest on your waist and bent to lay his head on your shoulder.

confusion overtook you. but more than that, you could feel your chest heating up and breaths shallowing. the skin of taesan’s chin rested on your shoulder and his breath tickled your ear gently; you had to physically restrain yourself from shivering.

after popping a cap on your drink and grabbing a straw, you turned to look at the boy behind you. you were already near whiplash from how close he was to you, his chest nearly touching yours.

“what was that about?” you tried to sound as unaffected as possible, hoping he couldn’t hear your heartbeat thrumming under your skin.

taesan looked at you for a second and looked over his shoulder again before taking a step back. his hands were shoved in his pockets and he bit his lip nervously.

“i think i saw my mom’s friend.” your eyes widened, tilting your chin to peek past his shoulder. if she was actually there, she was gone, probably in one of the theaters.

++

the two of you found your seats and your body finally cooled down. the more you thought about it, taesan's whole act wasn't really necessary. it wasn't like anyone was really suspecting of the two of you lying and the two of you looked enough like a boyfriend and girlfriend when you walked around.

sneaking a glance at your "boyfriend," you had never wished to know what he was thinking more than that moment. were the past 5 minutes replaying in his brain over and over again like they were in yours?

you couldn't even pay attention to the movie that was playing, mind and thoughts wholly dedicated to the boy eating popcorn next to you. the skin on your sides almost burned to feel his hands on them again.

clenching your fist, you fought to push the increasingly inappropriate thoughts about taesan away. you didn't understand why it was affecting you so drastically, you and taesan had been holding hands and hugging with no problem.

the way taesan's tall frame towered over you and had nearly wrapped around you as he rested on your shoulder made you head spin. he'd felt so warm behind you, like a blanket draping over you.

shivering slightly at the thought, you caught taesan's attention again.

"are you cold?" he whispered quietly, already taking off his zip up to give to you. you shook your head frantically, slightly horrified at him noticing your odd behaviour and misinterpreting it.

unfortunately for you, it was already too late and the boy draped the jacket gently over your legs, innocently smiling at you before looking back at the screen. you were absolutely certain there was no way you were surviving the next hour.

you were now fully wearing taesan's jacket as the two of you walked back to your car. you were trying to focus on anything besides the boy's warmth seeping from his hoodie into your skin.

taesan could tell something was off, eyes lingering on your slightly stiffened shoulders. at the same time, he was thinking about how he enjoyed the sight of you in his jacket a little too much for his liking. the sleeves reached past your wrists, almost to your fingers.

++

"did you like the movie?" taesan asked softly, glancing at you curiously.

you both were now sitting in your car, a slow rnb song playing softly from the stereo of your car. taesan's body turned slightly to face you. you, on the other hand, were staring straight ahead, not wanting make eye contact with him in fear of the visceral reaction you might have.

"um, yeah, that one girl was funny." you didn't even know why you were pretending you remembered the damn movie. your mind had been on the boy sitting next to you the whole time.

"you don't need to lie, y/n." your eyes widened at the boy's words. you were done for. taesan leaned forward, tilting his body and head so he could look you in the eyes as you stared intensely at your shoes. he continued.

"i can tell something's on your mind. what're you thinking about?" the boy asked gently, noticing your clenched fists.

"you." you blurted out before you could stop yourself. there was no going back. as the feelings you didn't realize you'd been holding for taesan flooded your mind, you couldn't drown them any longer. hearing a small gasp, you forced yourself to continue

"i know we're just friends, i'm sorry --" you began before taesan's voice sliced through the air, louder and stable than before.

"don't..." your stomach dropped, he definitely hated you know. you almost felt sick, praying he didn't think you were taking advantage of his kindness. he'd offered up this whole arrangement as a friend for your sake and sanity, and you went and fell for him.

"don't apologize for that, ever." taesan finally found the words he was looking for, and you looked up confusedly to see his eyes boring into you. his gaze was heavy, you wanted to shrivel underneath it.

his eyes ran over every part of you he could see, across your eyes and lips and down your neck and along your shoulders. they trailed down your arms that were wrapped in his jacket and brushed over your exposed legs. your tense fists and eyes screwed shut didn't go unnoticed either.

you couldn't bear to keep your eyes open any longer, silently begging him to do or say anything else.

"what does that mean?" you muttered, eyes still shut. taesan's stomach flipped and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you so nervous, all because of him.

"i've been thinking about you, too." your eyes shot open in surprise, seeing taesan smiling at you warmly. his large hand reached over the console to wrap around your still clenched fist, his fingers working to unravel your hand and intertwine yours with his.

he placed his other hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him completely. you held your breath as his touch creeped up the curve of your shoulder, hand fully cupping the back of your neck. you wordlessly leaned into his touch, tongue coming out to wet your lips for what you knew was coming.

taesan thought you looked beautiful like this; the only thing illuminating the two of you was the glow of the dashboard, the light wrapped around you like a halo. your lips shone in the dim light, glossed over and beckoning to the boy.

your lungs felt they were on fire as you waited for taesan to something, anything.

"taesan..." your shaky voice was no louder than a whisper. the boy finally snapped out of his dazed state, leaning over the console to meet your lips with his.

taesan was as gentle as he could be with you, eyes closed and plush lips pressing against yours softly. the kiss lasted for a moment before he pulled away, opening his eyes slowly. while he was aching to go further with you than just a simple peck, the last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm you, knowing this was your first kiss.

you, on the other hand, had the front of his shirt pinched between your fingers, pulling him back to you within a second. you melted against his lips, eyes fluttering shut as your face grew hotter by the second.

taesan's hand that was holding yours moved to squeeze your thigh. you gasped lightly against his lips and his tongue moved past your lips, exploring your warm mouth.

your head was spinning from the unfamiliar sensations, eyes nearly rolling back as taesan used his hand behind your neck to cup the back of your head and tilt your face. your lips moved together in an unspoken synchrony; taesan could've sworn he saw stars when you bit his lip, groaning into your mouth softly.

the low music from the stereo was now joined by the lewd noises coming from your mouths. the two of you continued making out, your hand now gripping taesan's bicep while his fingers dancing along your shoulders.

you finally pulled away to catch your breath, opening your eyes slowly. a string of spit stretched between your and taesan's lips, lit up by the dashboard lights. taesan felt his stomach tighten as you wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, never breaking eye contact with him.

it wasn't until a group of kids your age walked past your car that the two of you remembered where exactly you were -- a public parking lot.

"we should get out of here." you mumbled as you switched the car's gear into drive. taesan simply nodded, still reeling from what just happened. as you pulled out of the parking lot, he licked his lips, hoping to get another taste of you. or what was left of you, at least,

the ride home was quiet, the only sound being the music from your stereo. the movie theater wasn't too far from your neighborhood anyways; your car pulled into your driveway a mere 5 minutes later.

you moved extra slowly as you switched the car into park and turned off the ignition, hoping taesan would take the opportunity to say something. the boy could read you like a book, practically feeling the anticipation and nervousness radiating from your body.

"what do you want to do now?" unfortunately, taesan did not say anything close to what you were expecting. you coughed, caught by surprise while also stalling so you could think of a response.

"i mean we both like each other, right?" you asked, face reddening within a second. taesan smiled and nodded. you continued.

"are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend?" you inquired teasingly. taesan playfully scoffed.

"why do i have to be the one to ask?" he whined, eliciting a giggle from you.

"i thought you were a gentleman." taesan rolled his eyes at your jab, reaching over to grab your hand and intertwine your fingers with his.

"y/n, will you be my real, not pretend girlfriend?" taesan spoke dramatically, like he was in front of an audience. you laughed even harder, fake swooning as he kissed the back of your hand.

"hmm can i think about it?" you nearly lost it watching the dramatic betrayal on taesan's face. he shoved your shoulder lightly, smiling as he crossed his arms stubbornly.

"i'm kidding, i would love to be your real, not pretend girlfriend." you sealed the deal by leaning forward to press a kiss to the boy's cheek, making a loud smacking sound that made the two of you laugh.

"i can't believe it only took you a week to succumb to me" taesan quipped as the two of you stepped out of the car.

"shut up mr. i've been thinking about you too." you shot back, jabbing the boy with your elbow lightly.

the two of you bantered and held hands in your front yard, the same place where you had fatefully met 12 years ago. and it was taesan's mom who once again beckoned him back, sticking her head out of the front door of the boy's house and calling his name.

"coming!"

[wileys-russo]

hi! laura freigang, 'can i use a picture of you as my phone's background?', locker room please?

lockscreen II l.freigang

you woke up to a flash in your face, ducking your head beneath the covers with a groan. "go away lau!" you moaned kicking out at your best friend who only grinned, tugging the covers away from you.

"it was for the collection!" laura explained as if that was completely normal as you tiredly glared up at her. "get out of my room, its not even eight yet!" you realised with a groan, shoving her a little harder than intended as she went rolling backwards off the bed.

you sat up with a start, covering your grin with your hand as the blonde moaned clutching her head which had collided with the carpet.

"sorry?" you tried with an innocent smile as she sat up and fixed you with a venomous glare. "idiot!" she huffed unappreciative of your efforts. "in my defense i have warned you before about not waking me before nine unless its an emergency." you reminded with a shrug.

"i was waking you because i made breakfast but now i think i will go give it to that cranky lady next door, she would be more appreciative!" the blonde grumbled standing to her feet with a shake of her head, stretching out her back.

"no no, no need! thank you." you shot up from bed, kissing her cheek in thanks before racing off toward the kitchen too fast to see the way the girls face burned beetroot red at the tiny gesture of affection.

laura had been pining over you for months now, and it was painful that it was obvious to absolutely everyone but you, even her teammates teasings only causing you to roll your eyes and dismiss them with a wave when they joked you were secretly dating.

laura could only wish to be so lucky, and only wish you'd finally see that all the little things she did for you was because she was crushing on you hard.

ever since you'd moved to the club the girl felt her knees wobble a little when you were introduced to the team, the first to put her hand up to show you around and within a couple of weeks the two of you were thick as thieves and laura had offered you her spare room while you hunted for a place of your own.

it was an offer which beat the pull out sofa you were currently sleeping on in an old school friends one bedroom loft who'd moved to germany for university and just never come back.

you'd be lying if you said without laura you'd have lost your mind and probably quit to move back home. she helped you set up everything, get better at the language, offered friendship and a comfortable bed beneath your back, cooked everyday for you and showed you around new places each weekend between matches.

you hadn't realized it just yet but you were also crushing hard on the blonde, only you'd grown up with four older brothers and attributed nearly every strong feeling you had toward a woman as just a longing for friendship.

it was idiotic how blind you were really.

"so." you looked up from your spot at your cubby, training finished for the day as you were icing your ankle you'd rolled, most of the team having already left for the day laura was kindly waiting around until the physio came back to check you over, currently in a meeting.

"as you know i've been making my phone look nicer." laura started as you chuckled, amused by her sudden interest in aesthetics which was spurred on by a late night tiktok doom scroll as you lay together 'hanging out' in complete silence in her room the other night.

"i found a lockscreen-" she turned to show you a photo she'd taken at the markets on one of her film cameras, smiling at the familiar setting. "-but, can i use a photo of you as my phone background?" she asked hopefully as you groaned.

"what!" she huffed, a little offended by your reaction. "not if its one of those awful pictures you always take of me sleeping, or eating, or at that gross zoomed out angle but super close and-" you started to protest making her frown switch to a grin.

"no schatz, not a bad photo." she patted your knee reassuringly, sliding closer to you as your head fell to her shoulder, missing the way she tensed up a little, clearing her throat.

"i have nice ones. i will even let you choose!" laura promised as you hummed and she clicked into her camera roll, selecting an album with a little sun emoji.

"see? look these are all candid ones of you. at the farmers market, out at dinner, cooking at home, when we went to ikea, when we went to the night festival, getting coffee-" as she scrolled slowly through, something suddenly clicked in your mind.

in nearly all of these you and laura had been hanging out, but always just the two of you. you took turns paying for things, you were always laughing, she was always surprising you with little adventures or taking you to new places and forcing you out of your comfort zone.

but it was always just with laura, and then it clicked for you, it was laura, you loved laura.

the girl was too busy recounting the story behind one of the hundreds of photos in the album with a soft smile on her face to notice you pull your head away to look at her, finally seeing the slight blush on her cheeks and not missing the twinkle in her eye.

so maybe, just maybe, laura loved you too.

"lau." you interrupted, cutting her off mid sentence as she looked up and caught your eye, blush intensifying as she did. "was i rambling? oh god i was rambling wasn't i? i told you when that happens to snap me out of it or tell me to shut up or-" she started again making you smile.

"lau?" "yeah?" "shut up." you grinned as she did too, tips of her ears flushed pink which you found quite cute, suddenly now noticing a lot of little features you'd taken for granted.

"do you trust me?" you asked softly and the blonde nodded without a moments hesitation, but in her most wild of dreams she'd never expected what came next as your hand moved to settle on the back of her neck and you leaned in until you were barely a hairsbreadth away.

"is this okay?" you whispered, checking one last time as all the german could do was nod, dumbfounded and unsure if this was actually happening until you leaned in just that tiny bit further and pressed your lips to hers.

this was really happening, and as laura dropped her phone into her lap, tugging you even closer and kissing you back like you were her last breath of air, you realised that yeah, your laura did love you back, and this was the start of a brand new adventure together.

[justabigassnerd]

Worth The Risk

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 14.5k

Warnings - swearing, angst, fluff, Mav is a wee bit overprotective, mentions of Goose and Carole, allusion to smut at the end

Summary - in visiting your dad in Miramar you rekindle your friendship with Bradley Bradshaw, which yields unexpected results

A/N - sooo... it's a bit of a big one here lads. I wish I could tell y'all how I achieved such a feat but believe me I have no clue how I did this. this was a request sent in by @talesofreading so I hope I did the idea justice (and I'm so so so sorry it took me so long to write it in the first place). I won't ramble so as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

“Yes dad, I’m at the gate now and we’re due to board in ten minutes or so.” You say with a breathy laugh after your dad finishes asking you what feels like a hundred questions about your flight. You were visiting your dad, Pete Mitchell, in San Diego while you had some time off work. After completing your studies at college, you had landed a good gig working as a nurse in a hospital in Chicago. You had grown up sure you weren’t going to follow in your father’s footsteps and so found yourself studying medicine and making a career out of it. It was hard when your dad was constantly deployed after pissing off Admiral after Admiral, but he did make the effort to visit you when he could and now that he was settled in San Diego, you decided you’d give him a visit.

“I’ll be at the airport when you land. I’ll see you soon sweetheart.” Maverick says a smile on his face as he thinks about how in a few hours you’ll be here in person.

“I’ll see you soon, dad. I love you.” You say, smiling as you hear your dad bid you one last goodbye before you hang up. After hanging up, you look out the window, seeing the plane you’d soon be boarding. You wait patiently at the gate, passport and boarding pass in hand as you survey the people surrounding you, little groups of people, family or friends, excitedly chatting about their trip and what they’re going to get up to, couples discussing similar topics, and businesspeople, making last minute calls or typing hurriedly on their laptops.

Before long, the call for boarding to begin comes over the loudspeaker and one by one a group is called up to have their passes checked and board the plane. Eventually, you are able to board and find your seat, settling down in it and tucking your bag away while patiently waiting for the journey to begin.

Soon enough, the boarding process is completed, and the plane begins to crawl towards the runway, patiently waiting for its turn to go. Within a couple of minutes, the plane gets onto the runway, and speeds along until it’s able to take off. You watch the ground get smaller and the clouds appear. You knew you inherited a love of flying from your dad, but your love for it never pushed you to make a career out of it. You watched the clouds pass you by while you listened to your music.

After just over four hours, the plane touched down in San Diego and you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as you saw the beautifully sunny weather. You disembarked the plane and made your way to baggage claim and waited with the rest of the people from the flight until your bag comes around on the conveyor belt. You grab your bag and follow the signs to where you know you’ll be able to find your dad.  You enter the spacious area, eyes searching the sea of gathered people, quickly locating your dad’s familiar jacket and you swear your smile couldn’t get any wider. You lock eyes with Maverick, and he waves before making his way over to you.

“Hey, sweetheart. Was the flight okay?” He asks, sweeping you up in a hug, holding you close as you reciprocate the embrace.

“Hey, dad. The flight was fine.” You reply, squeezing him that little bit tighter before releasing him from the hug, taking the handle of your luggage and following your dad to the car park and letting him lead you to his car.

“New car?” You ask, an amused tone to your voice as you take in the sight of the car.

“I wouldn’t say new. Figured the bike would pose a problem so I had to take the car.” Maverick says with a chuckle, unlocking the car and loading your bags into the back of the car before you get into the passenger seat, and he gets into the driver’s seat.

The drive back to Maverick’s house wasn’t long and the scenery was beautiful. You had spent a little bit of time in Miramar when you were younger, but you don’t remember much of it since you only spent a few short months there before moving away again. You were silently glad your dad had found a place to settle down and that you could finally visit him after the countless times he had come to visit you.

“You probably don’t remember much about Miramar, huh?” Maverick muses softly, glancing at you quickly, noticing your enamoured expression before returning his focus to the road.

“I don’t. But it’s so gorgeous.” You say with a grin, taking in the views, your smile widening as you take in the sight of the beach.

“I’ll make sure we go to all the best places.” Maverick says, a smile on his face as he begins to turn up the road he lived on and then soon parks in his driveway. You get out of the car and by the time you get to the back of the car, Maverick has already unloaded your bags and leads you into his house.

The house was small yet perfect for Maverick, he’d decorated it with pictures from his time at Top Gun and pictures of you growing up. He shows you upstairs and to the room you’ll be staying in.

“I’ll let you settle in. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” Maverick says softly before excusing himself and heading downstairs while you stay put in the middle of the room. After a brief minute, you cross to the window, taking in the view and opening the window slightly so you can hear the breeze and birds singing while you got settled in. You unpacked some of your essentials before deciding you wanted to go and hang out with your dad while you had the time with him. You head downstairs and find Maverick sat on the sofa in the living room, smiling over at you.

“I’m still feeling pretty cramped from the flight. Are you okay if I go for a walk?” You ask, smiling as Maverick nods.

“Of course, do you want me to go with you?” He offers, already bracing his hands on either side of him ready to push himself up off the sofa.

“It’s okay, you can relax.” You say, watching as Maverick stays put, thinking to himself before speaking up.

“Don’t get lost, okay?” He says with a chuckle.

“I’m not as old as you so I can rely on my phone to keep me from getting lost.” You say with a cheeky grin, pulling your phone out of your pocket and waving it to emphasise your point, laughing at your dad’s expression of mock shock.

“You cheeky shit.” He says, breaking into a laugh and rolling his eyes as you pocket your phone.

“You know I love you.” You say with a grin, starting to head towards the front door.

“I love you too. Text me when you’re on your way back and I’ll start on dinner.” Maverick says, waving you off and you grab a spare key before exiting the house and letting your feet dictate where you go.

You find yourself wandering until you reach the beach, and you find yourself smiling as you see the families on the beach, lying on towels or playing in the sand and sea. You wished you could remember the times you had spent on that same beach but all you had was photos and stories your dad had told you. As you walk alongside the beach, take in the gorgeous sights as the golden sun starts to lower in the sky.

Eventually, you find yourself near a bar, it looks like a Navy bar to you just judging by the amount of people in khaki uniforms going in and out of the bar. You stood still for a moment, watching the people going in and out, wondering if your dad or anyone on his new squadron visited that bar. As you watch the bar, you catch sight of someone in a Hawaiian shirt standing on the decking just outside the bar. You didn’t mean to stare at the stranger, but you hadn’t seen anyone since Goose wearing a Hawaiian shirt so clearly this man had good taste and you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the sight.

Before too long, the stranger caught sight of you, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you realised, he was looking in your direction. Truthfully, you had no idea if he was actually looking at you or at something behind you because of his aviators hiding his eyes but the idea of this guy catching you looking at him was enough of a scare to get you to turn tail and begin your journey back to your dad’s house, shooting him a text to let him know you were on your way home.

In about twenty minutes, you enter Maverick’s house and are immediately greeted with the smell of cooking food, and you immediately know he is making you your favourite meal.

“Smells good.” You say with a wide smile, finding the kitchen and standing in the doorway, watching as your dad diligently works on the food.

“I had to make you your favourite.” Maverick replies, glancing over at you with a smile before returning his attention back to the food. You decide to help your dad out a bit and set the table and get drinks out. By the time you’ve set the table with cutlery and drinks, Maverick has finished the food and begins plating up the meals, handing you a plate with a smile. The two of you sit down at the table and eat your meals, chatting throughout and enjoying each other’s company. When you finish your meals, you help clean up, putting the dishes in the dishwasher despite Maverick’s insistence that you don’t have to. As he tells you what felt like the thousandth time to let him do it, the doorbell rang.

“Let me clean up, you answer the door.” You say, pointing towards the front door with a chuckle before turning back to the dishwasher, loading it carefully and wiping down the surfaces while you hear the muffled voices coming through from the hall.

“y/n, look who it is!” You turn and look through the doorway to see your dad entering the living room and behind him is a man sporting a shirt that looks incredibly familiar.

“I thought it was you I saw by the beach!” You couldn’t believe it. You were standing face-to-face with Bradley Bradshaw. Someone you thought you were never going to see again after that night he had screamed in your dad’s face about never wanting to see him again and leaving your house with the door slamming behind him. But here he was, standing in front of you with a huge smile and bright eyes. He’d changed a lot in the time that’s passed, he was definitely more muscular, and he had some new scars decorating his face, but above everything, he looked much more attractive than you remember him being.

“Bradley, I didn’t even recognise you!” You exclaim happily, accepting the offered hug instantly, clinging to Bradley and relishing in how gently he wrapped his arms around you, his chest rumbling with a gentle laugh.

“I almost didn’t recognise you. If I hadn’t of caught you staring, I probably wouldn’t have known you were here at all.” Bradley replies, both of you pulling apart when you hear Maverick’s amused scoff.

“Staring?” Maverick asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I wasn’t staring. I just noticed the Hawaiian shirt and it made me think of Goose.” You explain, rolling your eyes at your dad as both men laugh softly.

“Well, I’m happy to report that my dad’s impeccable fashion sense did in fact get passed down to me.” Bradley says, shrugging with a chuckle.

“So, what brings you by? Or was it just the fact you thought you saw me, so you came here to test your theory.” You ask, folding your arms across your chest as you raise an eyebrow with an amused smile.

“Maybe I was testing a theory, but I wasn’t exactly wrong.” Bradley admits, grinning as Maverick rolls his eyes jokingly.

“You could’ve called or texted if you wanted to know if she was here.” Maverick says, looking up at Bradley.

“I know but I haven’t seen her in a while, so I wanted to swing by.” Bradley says unapologetically.

“I’ll give you that one.” Maverick admits, nodding his head in approval as he turns to head into the kitchen to grab himself a beer.

“Hey, tomorrow would you like to grab a drink with me at the Hard Deck?” Bradley offers, a soft smile on his face as he awaits your response.

“Sure, it would be great to catch up after so long.” You say with a smile, more than happy to spend some time with Bradley now that you know he’s in the area.

“Great! I’ll swing by tomorrow and we’ll head down together. Is six, okay?” Bradley asks, offering a time.

“Six is perfect.” You say, your smile widening by the second, excited at the thought of spending the evening with Bradley.

“I’ll see you then.” Bradley says, giving you another hug before he leaves you and Maverick, closing the door behind him and signalling that he has gone. Once he’s gone you turn to face your dad, shocked to see his raised eyebrow.

“Don’t date an aviator.” Maverick says simply, making your jaw drop in shock.

“Dad, what?” You stammer, feeling your cheeks quickly heating up at the simple statement your dad said.

“You heard me. Don’t date an aviator. It won’t go well.” Maverick repeats himself, making you even more flustered.

“Okay, firstly, me and Bradley are going out for a friendly catch-up, we haven’t seen each other since we were eighteen. Secondly, I’m not a child so I can date whoever I want, aviator or not.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest as you stare down your dad.

“I’m just trying to protect you, sweetheart. I am an aviator, so I know what they’re like. It’s better if you steer clear of dating them. I saw how you were looking at Bradley and it’s best you don’t even try.” Maverick says, sticking to his guns and trying to explain himself.

“I appreciate that, dad. But I am an adult now, let me make mistakes and figure things out for myself.” You argue, raising an eyebrow as you continue to argue your point with your dad. Instead of responding, your dad just smiled softly before walking past you and heading upstairs. As his footsteps grow quieter as he disappears upstairs, you let out a soft sigh. You weren’t even going on a proper date with Bradley. It was just a friendly catch-up between two people who hadn’t seen each other in years. Right?

Six pm the next day couldn’t have come sooner for you. You had spent the day visiting some of your dad’s favourite spots with him. You had lunch together and he even managed to coerce you into taking a quick tour of his hangar. When you had got home you had spent way too long deciding on what you wanted to wear, trying to find something that was cute but didn’t make you look like you were trying to impress Bradley. Eventually, you find an outfit that fits what you’re going for and you put it on, smiling as you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You knew it wasn’t a date but the mere thought of getting to spend time with Bradley after so long was making you giddy. Just as you finish freshening up, you hear the doorbell ring and just by checking the time you knew it was Bradley and you immediately began to make your way downstairs. As you were heading downstairs you could hear a muffled conversation between Bradley and Maverick, but they stopped talking as soon as Bradley caught sight of you.

“y/n… you look… wow.” Bradley stumbles over his words, not knowing what to say.

“I’m hoping that’s a good wow.” You say with a soft laugh, smiling up at Bradley.

“It’s definitely a good wow, you look beautiful.” Bradley says, a sheepish smile covering his face as he looks at you and you feel your cheeks heating up at his shy compliment. The moment was then disturbed by Maverick clearing his throat.

“So, I’ll see you when you get back. Keep her safe, Bradley.” Maverick says, softly smiling at you before turning to look at Bradley who straightens up ever so slightly at Maverick’s gaze.

“Of course, I will, Mav.” Bradley says as you both move towards the door, bidding your dad one last goodbye before you exit the house, stepping into the warm evening air and beginning the walk to the Hard Deck, making small talk on your way to the bar.

The walk that had been twenty minutes the day before felt like it was five minutes when you were walking with Bradley. You were having so much fun spending time with him again after so long. Eventually, you reach the Hard Deck and Bradley guides you to a table, finding the quietest corner in the bar and pulling the chair out for you to sit down at, making you smile shyly.

“Thank you.” You say softly, sitting down on the chair.

“I’m going to grab us some drinks. Do you want some fries as well or something?” Bradley says, still standing as he looks down at you.

“I’ll take a beer if that’s okay and fries sound nice.” You say with a smile as Bradley nods, turning and making his way to the bar.

“Hey Penny, could I get two beers and put in an order for fries?” Bradley asks, leaning up against the bar and smiling at Penny as she approaches.

“Of course, am I starting a tab?” Penny asks, handing Bradley two beers and taking his card in return, watching as he nods in response.

“Yes please.” Bradley confirms as Penny nods, tucking his card away someplace safe for the duration of his time at the bar.

“And what table am I taking the fries to when they’re done?” Penny asks as she hands the order to one of her employees before turning back to Bradley.

“Just that one over there.” Bradley says, pointing out the table and Penny leans over the bar slightly, following where Bradley was pointing before her eyes widen in shock slightly.

“Is that y/n?” Penny asks, remembering how she’d seen you a few times when you were younger.

“It is. She’s visiting Mav for a bit, and I haven’t seen her in years, so I figured we’d catch up over drinks.” Bradley explains, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he briefly glances over at you seeing you entertaining yourself on your phone before turning his attention back to Penny.

“A catch-up, huh?” Penny asks, an amused smile on her face as Bradley blushes slightly his gaze flicking down to the bar counter before looking back up at Penny as he licks his lips nervously.

“Don’t you start. I’ve already had Mav warn me away from her.” Bradley says with a joking roll of the eyes as he takes the beer bottles and heads back over to the table placing a beer in front of you and then sitting down in the chair opposite you.

“I was beginning to think you’d run away or something.” You say with a laugh, putting your phone away and holding the beer bottle in between your hands loosely.

“Never. I was just catching up with Penny.” Bradley says, lifting his beer bottle and tipping it lightly in Penny’s direction.

“Penny’s here?” You ask, turning in your seat and looking over at where Bradley had been pointing, smiling as you catch sight of Penny working at the bar seeing her catch sight of a patron and smiling as they approach.

“She was pretty excited when she realised you were here, so I’d imagine she’ll come over soon enough.” Bradley says, taking a sip from his beer bottle as you turn back around to face him.

“I don’t doubt it.” You say with a chuckle, taking a sip of your own beer as the two of you fall into a brief silence.

“So, how have you been? What have you been up to in these last few years?” Bradley asks, head tilted slightly in his curiosity.

“Well, the Navy wasn’t really my thing, so I just went to college and ended up pursuing medicine and now I’m a nurse over in Chicago. What about you?” You say, explaining what you’ve been up to since you last saw him.

“You’ve probably figured out I’m an aviator now, but I did go off to college after the whole thing with Mav. But I’m finally where I want to be and now, I’ve got a permanent squad and a place to call home.” Bradley explains, smiling softly to himself as he thinks of how far he’s come.

“That’s incredible. I know Goose and Carole are so proud of you.” You say, reaching over and gently resting a hand on Bradley’s arm, fighting the growing heat under your cheeks at the contact yet completely missing Bradley’s slight blush too.

“Thank you. You’ve done well for yourself getting a job in Chicago. I’m proud of you.” Bradley says, getting the bravery to rest a hand on top of yours, encapsulating your hand with the warmth emitting from his.

“Thank you, Bradley.” You reply softly, unable to contain your smile.

“So… have you got anyone back home? Any partners or anything?” Bradley asks, flushing a bit redder at the boldness of the question and fights to hide his relief when you shake your head with a slight chuckle.

“No. I’ve been single since college. What about you Mr. Aviator? You’ve surely got girls throwing themselves at your feet.” You say, retracting your hand from underneath Bradley’s both of you trying not to show any upset at the lack of contact.

“Throwing themselves at my feet? Well, you’re not entirely wrong with that. But I’m just waiting for the right girl to come along.” Bradley says with a soft shrug, making your heart pound just that little bit faster at the revelation that he is single.

“Here’s your fries.” You look up at the familiar voice and can’t stop your smile from widening when you see Penny placing the small basket of fries on the table and you instantly get out of your seat to give her a hug.

“Penny it’s been so long!” You exclaim happily, grinning as she wraps her arms around you, reciprocating the hug.

“It really has, hasn’t it?” Penny says with a laugh, pulling away to hold you at arm’s length.

“If I had known you were here, I would’ve swung by sooner. Somehow dad neglected to tell me that you worked here. He had mentioned you were in the area though.” You explain as Penny shakes her head with a laugh.

“I know what your father is like so don’t worry. I won’t interrupt your time with Bradley, sweetie. Enjoy your night and if you need anything, let me know.” Penny says, giving you one last hug before making her way back over to the bar to continue serving customers. You and Bradley then dig into the fries, continuing to chat as you eat.

You had no idea how long you were at the bar with Bradley, but it felt like mere seconds when you were with him. You knew you had a slight crush on Bradley way back when you were teenagers, but it had been pushed to the back of your mind in the last few years with how life had been. But just seeing Bradley and spending time with him had brought all those feelings back and they were stronger than ever.

What you didn’t know was that Bradley felt the exact same way. Only he was struggling with the warning Maverick had issued him when he turned up to pick you up. Maverick had warned him away from you, saying he didn’t want you dating an aviator. But for you, Bradley was more than willing to go against Maverick’s warnings and risk angering him.

“I’m going to close up my tab and I’ll take you home, okay?” Bradley says after clearing his throat and you nod, waiting patiently as he crosses to the bar and closes out his tab with Penny before he crosses back over to you. When you noticed Bradley coming over you got up, following him through the bar, bidding Penny goodbye as you passed.

Exiting into the cool night are you were suddenly aware of how long you had spent at the bar with Bradley now that the moon had replaced the sun. However, you didn’t even mind. With the evening now much quieter than the previous environment of the bustling bar, you and Bradley were able to walk and talk quietly, feeling like your conversations were much more private now.

Much earlier than you would’ve liked to, you wound up at the end of the driveway to your dad’s house and you felt your heart sinking at the finality of the end of the night.

“I had a great night tonight.” You say, turning to look up at Bradley with a smile, grateful for the evening you had with him.

“So did I. It was great to catch up.” Bradley replies with a soft smile of his own.

“It was. I just wish it never had to end.” You admit softly, eyes flicking to the ground before looking back at Bradley.

“Me too. But what if we did this again sometime before you go back to Chicago? Maybe like a date?” Bradley says, biting the bullet and deciding to just go for it instead of losing his chance. But when Bradley saw the hesitation on your face, he began to second guess himself. Had he completely misinterpreted how the night had gone?

“I’d really like that, Bradley. But…” You begin, glancing over at the front door before looking back over at Bradley who softens.

“Mav told you not to date aviators.” Bradley says, nodding in understanding.

“I’m not fussed about that rule, he can’t control me. I just don’t want this to ruin your relationship with him. You just made up after everything that happened, and I’m scared I’ll ruin it.” You admit, wanting to do what you can to protect Bradley from your dad’s protectiveness.

“You won’t ruin anything. I’ve never really been one for listening to Mav’s rules anyway. I think it’s worth the risk.” Bradley says quietly, as if your dad was nearby and listening in to your conversation, while he also reached out and interlocked your hands gently smiling so softly at you that you were sure you’d melt into a puddle right there and then.

“I think it’s worth the risk too.” You admit with a smile, blushing slightly as Bradley squeezes your hand softly at your agreement.

“How about in a couple of days’ time, we have our date? I’ll find us a nice spot and I’ll text you the details.” Bradley says, growing quieter near the end of his sentence.

“You don’t have my number.” You say with a giggle, digging in your jacket pocket for your phone, unlocking it and finding your number before holding it out towards Bradley who hurriedly digs in his pocket for his phone, almost dropping it at the speed at which he pulled the phone out before typing your number into his phone and creating a contact for you.

“Done.” Bradley says with a large smile as you turn your phone off and put it back in your pocket while Bradley mirrors your actions.

“I’ll see you around.” You say softly, knowing you should head into the house and let Bradley get home himself.

“I’ll text you. Goodnight, y/n.” Bradley says softly, extending his arms for a hug which you accept almost instantly, silently loving the way Bradley’s arms wrap around you and make you feel safe.

“Goodnight, Bradley.” You whisper before pulling away from the hug and heading up the path to the front door and unlocking the door, glancing over your shoulder and smiling at Bradley for one last time that night as he smiles back and offers you one last wave before you disappear inside. Maverick had clearly left the hall lights on for you so you could navigate the house and you made your way upstairs to your room, making sure you turned off the lights as you went. Once you reach your room, you change into your pyjamas before heading to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed. Then you return back to your room and climb into your bed, pulling the covers over you and grab your phone, smiling at the text that displayed as an unknown number, but you knew it was Bradley.

‘Thank you again for a great night. I’ve not had this much fun in a long time.’

‘It’s Bradley by the way.’

You couldn’t help but giggle at the second text, imagining the brief panic on Bradley’s face after he hit send on the first message without clarifying it was him.

‘Me neither, it was nice to catch up :).’

‘Let me know when you’re home safe.’

You found yourself double texting Bradley in return, wanting to make sure you know when Bradley gets home safe. While you waited for Bradley to text you back, you texted one of your closest friends from Chicago and told her about how your evening had gone and as you expected, she was very eager to hear everything and demanded to know what Bradley was like and whether you liked him. While you were explaining how the evening went, a text from Bradley came through.

‘I’m happy to say I made it home.’

You couldn’t stop your thumbs from typing a speedy response to Bradley’s text.

‘I’m glad you made it home safe. Although I’m sure being a big strong Navy man means you’re safer than most when walking home.’

You knew calling Bradley a ‘big strong Navy man’ was probably a bit of a step too far but your thumbs were typing quicker than your brain could comprehend and you only realised what you had typed when you had hit send on the message. Just as you were beginning to type an apology, a text came through from Bradley.

‘Oh, I’m a big strong Navy man, am I?’

He knew what he was doing, and you did very little to fight back the heat growing under your cheeks.

‘You know what I meant.’

You had no idea how long you had been texting Bradley that night. You had woken up the next morning with your phone under your hand as you woke up to Maverick knocking on your door, asking if you wanted any breakfast. After responding to your dad, you flipped your phone over, unable to stop the smile from crossing your face when you saw the good morning text from Bradley. You replied to the message as you kicked your covers back, stretching before throwing a hoodie on over your pyjamas and heading downstairs to where your dad was preparing breakfast for you.

“Morning, dad.” You say with a smile, sitting at the table as Maverick places a plate of pancakes in front of you.

“Morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” Maverick asks, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before returning his attention to his own food.

“I slept well thanks, how about you?” You reply, beginning to dig into your breakfast as Maverick finishes plating up his food, crossing to the table to sit opposite you.

“I slept well. How was your evening with Bradley? Penny mentioned she saw you.” Maverick asks, glancing across at you as you smile.

“It was nice to catch up with him. And yes, I did see Penny. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she worked there.” You say with a chuckle, hoping your dad doesn’t read between the lines too much and instead focuses on Penny.

“Well, I didn’t anticipate you going to the Hard Deck so soon. I was going to invite Penny and Amelia over at some point.” Maverick admits with a light shrug and a grin as you roll your eyes jokingly.

“I’d love to see them and have a proper catch up.” You say in agreement before eating another mouthful of food. You continue to chat with your dad until you both finish your food, and you tidy everything away before you feel your phone buzz in your pocket and you pull it out, smiling when you see the text from Bradley.

“What’s got you all smiley?” Maverick asks with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Oh, just a friendly text from Bradley.” You lie, acting as if you hadn’t just read the text from Bradley confirming the time and place of your date tomorrow.

“Just friendly? Good.” Maverick says turning away and missing you rolling your eyes at his statement.

“Yeah, we know your rule.” You say, wishing your dad wasn’t as stubborn as he was, but you were also a Mitchell and held that same stubbornness, hence why you were so adamantly going against his rule. You typed out a hurried reply to Bradley’s text, telling him that the time and place he had picked sounded great and that you couldn’t wait to have your date.

You spent your day on the beach with Maverick, getting in some tanning time as you read. Penny ended up coming out to meet you with Amelia in tow. You spent time catching up with the mother-and-daughter duo, unable to believe how much Amelia had grown since you last saw her, and you loved getting to hear what she had been up to in recent years. Amelia even managed to convince you into going in the sea with her and you couldn’t help but smile and laugh with her as she attempted to splash you.

When you tired of the sea you returned to your towel, drying yourself off and sitting back down to join in with your dad and Penny’s conversations. And you didn’t miss how both your dad and Penny were acting around each other. You could tell they liked each other, they just needed to act on it.

Eventually, you and Maverick headed home after bidding Penny and Amelia goodbye, promising to keep in touch even after you head back to Chicago. And when you get home you open your phone to see messages from Bradley and you reply to them as quickly as possible, apologising for how long it had taken you to respond and picking up the conversation right up from where it had been left off. You loved texting Bradley; he could make you smile and blush like he was right there in front of you having a proper face-to-face conversation. You didn’t like that you had to lie to your dad about what you were talking about with Bradley, but he had chosen to come up with this stupid rule that had you and Bradley sneaking around like a pair of teenagers. But Bradley was worth the risk.

The next day you were in serious planning mode, you had to figure out a way to get out of the house without your dad asking too many questions or catching on to what you were going out to do. You knew the restaurant Bradley had picked wasn’t super fancy so you could get away with a nice, cute outfit that wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion from your dad and maybe you could get away with saying it was another friendly hang out. Maybe you could talk Penny into hanging out with Maverick to distract him and also potentially give them the opportunity to confess their own feelings after seeing the way they skirted around each other. You had conversed with Bradley about this dilemma, and he had offered to meet you at the end of your road instead of coming to the door and you knew that was more than likely the best option you had. If this date went well and there was another, you knew your dad would get suspicious about Bradley constantly turning up at the door. After some careful planning, you and Bradley had come up with the most effective plan to ensure that Maverick did not catch on to your evening plans.

By the time the evening came around, you had already planted seeds with your dad, telling him you wanted to go on an evening walk because you promised your friend a video tour of the sights of Miramar. With that in place, you had changed into the outfit you had picked for the date and texted Bradley that you were on your way out.

“You’re heading out then?” Maverick asks, smiling at you from where he was sat on the sofa and you smile over at him, grabbing the spare keys.

“Yep! Don’t worry about waiting up for me. Katie and I can chat for hours once we get going. Maybe you could invite Penny over or something?” You suggest, fighting the urge to smirk when you see your dad blush slightly at your question.

“You figured that out quickly, huh?” Maverick asks with a soft chuckle.

“You think I’d miss something as obvious as that? Nice try.” You say with a laugh, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket and you pull it out to find a message from Bradley, letting you know he was at the end of the road waiting for you.

“Look, I have to go. Call Penny.” You say, pointing at your dad with a joking warning finger before leaving the house, looking up and down the road until you spot a figure waiting at one end of the road and head towards them, knowing instantly that it was Bradley. You make your way towards him, your smile widening when he notices you, revealing a bunch of flowers he had behind his back.

“Hey.” Bradley says softly, smiling as you take the flowers.

“Hey.” You reply, admiring the beautiful flowers Bradley had picked out, he had assembled a bouquet of red carnations, it was simple but so beautiful and you couldn’t help but love Bradley just that little bit more because of it.

“I hope those flowers are okay.” Bradley says sheepishly, offering an arm out for you to take which you do so happily, letting him lead you to where he had parked his beloved Bronco nearby and opening the passenger side door for you, letting you get in the car before closing the door, rounding the car and getting in the driver's seat, starting up the engine and beginning the drive to the little restaurant Bradley had picked. The drive wasn’t too long, and you chatted the whole way. When you reached the restaurant, Bradley insisted you stayed put while he went and opened your door for you, telling you that you could leave the flowers on the seat for now before closing the door behind you and leading you into the restaurant.

“Hi, I have a reservation, should be under Bradshaw.” Bradley greets the host with a smile who consults the list in front of him before instructing you to both follow him. You follow him through the restaurant with Bradley by your side. You were shocked to find that Bradley had managed to reserve a table by a large window so you could overlook the beach and ocean, able to see the sun beginning its descent over the horizon.

“Bradley, this is amazing!” You say, unable to keep the excitement from your tone as Bradley yet again pulls your chair out for you, waiting for you to sit before tucking the chair a little closer to the table before going to his own seat.

“I wanted to make sure we had a good first date.” Bradley admits with a light shrug as he eases himself down into his seat, both of you picking up your menus in tandem, letting out a soft chuckle as you do so. You both scan the menus, talking about which meals sounded good before you both eventually came to a decision on meals and a drink. When the waiter comes around asking if you’re ready to order, both you and Bradley nod and ever the gentleman, Bradley lets you order first before ordering his own food and drink. The waiter writes down your orders before dismissing himself with the promise to return with your drinks, so you and Bradley pick up your conversation, both of you overwhelmingly happy with how the evening is going even if the date had only just started. Soon enough, the waiter returns with the drinks, placing them in front of you before dismissing himself again to serve other customers while your food is being prepared. By the time the food had arrived, you were sure that had you been on a date with anyone else, you would’ve run out of things to say but since it was Bradley, the conversation flowed naturally, and you never seemed to have a lull in the conversation even once and before too long your food arrived, and you both began to dig in.

“I never asked the other day. But how are you finding Chicago?” Bradley asks after a mouthful of food.

“It’s good. Obviously, I’ve been out there a while but I’m enjoying myself. I have some great friends out there, but I do feel quite far away from dad sometimes.” You admit, eyes flicking down to your plate before looking back up at Bradley who smiles in understanding.

“I get that. It’s hard to be away from family.” Bradley says, a soft understanding tone to his voice which makes you feel awful. You knew he had lost both his parents before he even reached the age of eighteen.

“Bradley, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“No don’t worry, honestly. It’s good. The more I talk about them the easier it gets.” Bradley says with a gentle smile, letting you know there were no hard feelings about it. With the topic settled, you were able to start a new conversation and the rest of the night ran smoothly. When it came to paying the bill, you went to get your card out, hand reaching to hand it to the waiter, but Bradley was quicker, gently taking your card from your hand and giving his card to the waiter instead.

“Bradley, come on I can pay.” You insist, your pleas in vain as the waiter begins to process the payment with Bradley’s card.

“I asked you on this date. It’s on me.” Bradley retorts with a grin, thanking the waiter as his card is handed back to him, finally giving your card back to you, chuckling as you huff lightly. Once everything is confirmed to have gone through, you’re given the freedom to leave and Bradley gets up first and you follow, letting him guide you through the bustling restaurant until you reach the cool night air of the outside world. You head back to the Bronco, of course letting Bradley open your door for you again. On the journey back, you both continue to talk with each other, even singing along lightly to one of the songs that come over the radio. By the time Bradley pulled up on the end of your road you couldn’t help but feel your heart sink at the realisation that the date was over. You had the best time with Bradley, and you wished you could spend more time with him. Once again, Bradley made you wait for him to open your door before you got out of the Bronco, this time you brought the flowers with you.

“I had the best night, Bradley.” You admit softly, smiling as Bradley smiles in response.

“So did I. Do you think we could have a second date?” Bradley asks, a slight sheepishness to his tone as he asks.

“I’d love to. This time, I’m picking the place and I’m paying.” You insist, pointing a joking finger at him as he laughs and shakes his head.

“Alright, you can pick. I’ll still come by and pick you up though.” Bradley replies, raising an eyebrow as you let out a soft sigh and nod.

“Deal.” You say, holding your free hand out for Bradley to shake which he does so.

“Deal.” Bradley agrees, squeezing your hand ever so softly before letting go.

“I’ll text you the details.” You say as Bradley nods.

“Got it. I can’t wait.” He replies, smiling as you nod in response.

“Good night, Bradley.” You say softly.

“Good night, y/n.” Bradley replies, his voice matching yours in softness. Just as you turn to head back to your dad’s house, you decide to turn to face Bradley and then kiss his cheek softly before whispering one last good night and heading back to Maverick’s house. As you head back to the house, you missed Bradley flushing a deep red with an awestruck smile on his face, watching as you walked down the road, unaware of the effect you had on him.

When you reached your dad’s house, you noticed that his bike was absent which made you tilt your head slightly in confusion before just deciding to shrug it off and enter the house. You were surprised to find none of the lights on, you flipped them on and found a note on the little shelf where the key bowl was. You opened the note and saw your dad’s scratchy handwriting, informing you that he’d gone to Penny’s house, making your eyebrows raise slightly in shock.

“Didn’t think he’d actually listen to me.” You mutter to yourself, heading through the house to try and find something in the kitchen that could act as a vase for the beautiful flowers Bradley had gotten for you. After searching for a few minutes, you were able to find something that would work and you filled it with water, putting the flowers in before heading upstairs to your room. You place the flowers on the bedside table before getting changed and then heading into the bathroom to clean your face and brush your teeth before getting into bed. You chose to stay up for a while to text Bradley before you both eventually decided to go to bed with the promise of talking in the morning.

The next morning, you woke up and were somewhat unsurprised to find that your dad was still out, so you looked around in the kitchen and found some food to make yourself some breakfast. As you prepared your breakfast, you texted Bradley a good morning message, smiling to yourself when he replied not long after you had sent your message. You continue to text him as you eat your food, unable to rid yourself of your smile as he continues to send you texts. In between messaging Bradley, you find yourself looking online for things to do that could potentially make an interesting date night for you and Bradley. You had decided that you weren’t going to actively look for a restaurant as you wanted to branch out a little and find something different for the two of you to do and as you searched you eventually found a nice-looking mini golf place along the beachfront and when you sent some pictures of the place to Bradley and proposed it as the location of your second date just for a little bit of fun he was more than onboard with the idea. The two of you decide on a time to meet later that day. You knew it was probably a bit soon to have a second date the day after the first, but you weren’t permanently in Miramar, and you were both aware of it and wanted to make the most of you being here.

Just as you finish cleaning up after yourself after finishing your food, you hear the front door open and Maverick call into the house, letting you know he has returned. You called back to Maverick, letting him know that you were just in the kitchen. It didn’t take him very long to head to the kitchen and you could tell from his face that he had a good night.

“So… how was Penny’s?” You ask with a raised eyebrow and smirk as your dad rolls his eyes at your words, heading to the coffee machine, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee.

“I’m pretty sure you can figure it out for yourself.” Maverick mutters, silently willing his mug to fill up with coffee quickly.

“I’m sure I can.” You say with a soft chuckle, focusing on cleaning up after yourself.

“Did you have a good time calling your friend last night?” Maverick asks, finally picking up his mug and taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, she loved seeing the beach. She couldn’t stop talking about how jealous she was of the beach sunsets.” The lie came quickly and easily and thankfully your dad didn’t think much of it, just nodding lightly and continuing to sip on his coffee. It didn’t look like your dad was awake enough to hold a functioning conversation, so you quietly dismissed yourself, heading upstairs to shower and get changed so you’re ready for the day.

After showering, you enter your room to get changed and you smiled when you caught sight of the flowers on your bedside table. You couldn’t wait to spend another evening with Bradley. You don’t know how you were going to keep lying to your dad, especially if your next date went as well as the last and you were going to come back to Miramar in the future. You wished your dad could be okay with the idea of you and Bradley being together. You valued your dad’s opinion so much and you thought he of all people would be okay with you potentially dating Bradley. Bradley was an aviator, but he wasn’t one of the aviators your dad was talking about when he enforced the rule. Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you finish getting ready for the day and head back downstairs and find your dad fast asleep on the sofa.

“You are the only person I know who could drink coffee and fall asleep right after.” You mutter quietly to yourself, picking up the empty mug and taking it to the dishwasher as you reminisce on all the times your dad would doze off so soon after having a cup of coffee. After the brief tidy up you debate your next move. Part of you wanted to go and hang out with Bradley, but you didn’t know where he lived, nor did you want him to get sick of seeing you before your second date. So, you ended up deciding to just entertain yourself, you had a book, and the beach was nearby so you decided to take yourself down to the beach to read and soak up the sun while you could. You packed up a small bag with your book and a couple of other little things you figured you’d need while you were out before leaving a little note on the coffee table in front of your dad so he wouldn’t panic when he eventually woke up.

After you left the house, you slowly made your way towards the beach. It had so quickly become one of your favourite spots in Miramar and it made you happy that your dad had finally been able to settle down somewhere as beautiful as this. You sat yourself down on the towel you had brought with yourself and opened your book, eyes beginning to scan the pages, getting immersed in the world you were reading about. There were a few times when cocky Top Gun trainees would whistle to get your attention and then flex and show off in front of you, all of them unaware of you rolling your eyes beneath your sunglasses. Those were the type of aviators you had vowed to avoid. And they didn’t know that your heart had already been stolen by a much kinder and gentler aviator. One who was more than likely their superior. Once you stopped paying them any mind, they grew bored in trying to get your attention and instead found someone else who would give them the attention they wanted. You were able to get through a good chunk of your book with the sounds of the beach surrounding you. Just as you decided to pack up and head back home, figuring you had been out long enough, you caught sight of a family playing on the beach, the father scooping his son up and holding him close as the boy giggled and hugged his dad. The sight made your heart melt, and it made you wish all the more that you could remember the time you had spent in Miramar when you were little.

After tearing your eyes away from the sight, you started to make your way home, still finding yourself admiring your surroundings with every step you took. It didn’t take you long to make your way back to your dad’s house and just as you entered the house, you heard the tv playing in the living room, letting you know that your dad was now a bit more awake. You then head into the living room, greeting your dad as you enter the room, smiling at him as he greets you in return.

“Did you have a good time at the beach?” Maverick asks as you ease yourself down onto the armchair, nodding as you sit down.

“It was nice to just relax and read my book. I don’t get to do that much back in Chicago.” You say, glad you took the time you had to take care of yourself and relax at somewhere as beautiful as the beach.

“I’m glad you got a chance to relax. It must get pretty busy with your job, huh?” Maverick muses, realising he’s never truly sat down and thought about how busy your life can be.

“It’s a lot of long hours. But I knew what I was getting myself into when I pursued this career.” You admit. You had inherited a lot from your dad, one of which was your willingness to put in the hard work to get yourself where you wanted to be in life.

“I probably don’t say this enough but I’m so proud of you.” Maverick says softly, smiling over at you which makes you smile at his words.

“That means a lot, dad. Thank you.” You say softly, both of you standing from where you were sat and crossing to each other, hugging each other tightly. It wasn’t that your dad didn’t tell you he was proud of you, even if he thought he didn’t say it enough, in fact, he had said it to you a lot growing up. When you graduated college, you were sure he said it a hundred times just at the ceremony alone. Every time he told you that he was proud of you, it made your heart swell. All you ever wanted to do was make your dad proud.

You decide to spend the day spending time with your dad, talking about things and even coercing him into telling you a few stories from when you were little and lived in Miramar. It was nice to hear some stories from your childhood, especially when Goose, Carole, and Bradley were involved in the stories. You knew your dad missed his friends, and that was part of the reason you didn’t want your potential relationship with Bradley to drive a wedge between them. They were both the last thing left they had of Goose and Carole, and you’d never forgive yourself if you ruined their relationship after they had just mended it. When it grows close to the time you agreed to meet with Bradley, you begin to excuse yourself, getting up from the sofa.

“Where are you off to tonight?” Maverick asks, watching as you get up and begin to cross to the doorway so you can freshen up.

“I found a mini golf place down by the beach and Bradley kindly agreed to come with me for a friendly match.” You say with a grin, hoping your dad doesn’t think too much about Bradley being mentioned.

“You’ve seemed so much happier now you’ve reconnected with Bradley.” Maverick says, clearly not missing the effect Bradley had on you since you started talking with him again.

“I didn’t realise how much I missed him until we started talking again.” You admit with a light shrug, trying not to give too much away about your feelings for Bradley.

“Well, I’m glad you two have been able to be friends again.” Maverick says with a nod, silently dismissing you and you take the chance, heading upstairs to change and freshen up for meeting Bradley.

It takes practically no time for you to freshen up and get ready for your second date with Bradley. You were silently thankful that you had the sense to pack some cute outfits for your visit because now you didn’t feel like you had to panic and find clothes that might work. When you finish getting ready, you head back downstairs after checking your phone and seeing a text from Bradley saying that he’s on his way, grab your key, and bid your dad a quick goodbye as you make your way out the door.

Once more you make your way down the road, realising that you beat Bradley to where you agreed to meet. You waited patiently for but a couple of minutes before Bradley walked up alongside you.

“Funny seeing you here.” Bradley says jokingly, both of smiling as you turn to face him.

“I never could’ve expected to run into you here.” You say, a joking sarcastic tone to your voice as you let out a breathy laugh before giving Bradley the hug he offered. After greeting each other, you both begin the walk to the mini golf place. It wasn’t too far from your dad’s house, and you enjoyed getting to walk with Bradley, especially when you had no shortage of conversation topics. It didn’t take you long to reach the mini golf course and as you got closer; you began to take longer strides to get out in front of Bradley to ensure you could pay for it. Thankfully, Bradley stuck true to the deal and patiently waited for you to pay, only stepping closer when the employee at the booth handed you two golf clubs and two golf balls, taking one of each from you.

“Let’s play.”

As you make your way around the course, taking it in turns while making light conversation with each other each step of the way. As you get ready to take your first shot on the course you had moved on to, Bradley quickly steps forward.

“Hey, do you mind if I just do something that might help you really quick?” Bradley asks, making your focus shift from the golf ball to him.

“Yes, of course.” You say with a smile, waiting as Bradley takes a step closer to you.

“Do you mind if I touch you?” Bradley asks, his voice soft as he studies your expression, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Yes.” Your voice is just as soft as his. Bradley then gently rests his hands on your hips, missing how your breath hitches in your throat at the gentle contact.

“Is this okay?” His voice was soft against the shell of your ear, making your heart pound ten times faster.

“Of course.” You mumbled, fighting the feeling of your cheeks heating up as Bradley carefully adjusted your body, his hands remaining on your hips even after he had finished adjusting your body.

“There, try taking a swing now.” Bradley says, removing his hands from your hips and taking a small step back, making you hold back a frown at the sudden lack of contact. You try to focus yourself after Bradley had stepped away, focusing on where you needed to aim for, and not shifting your body from where Bradley had carefully placed it. You took a deep breath before swinging your club, hitting the golf ball with just enough power to bag yourself a hole-in-one.

“I did it!” You cry out triumphantly, holding your hands up in celebration.

“There you go!” Bradley praises, pulling you into a hug, and carefully avoiding your golf club.

“You’ve given away your best trick. Now I’m going to kick your ass.” You say smugly, laughing as Bradley shakes his head jokingly.

“You’re definitely a Mitchell with that competitive attitude.” Bradley jokes, making you roll your eyes before you and Bradley begin to move on to the next part of the course. It doesn’t take the two of you much longer to get through the remainder of the course and by the time you had finished, you had practically stopped keeping score, instead just focusing on having fun with each other. After returning the clubs to the employee at the booth, you took a little walk further down the beach, finding a wall to sit down at to watch the waves crashing gently against the shore. You and Bradley continue to converse quietly, taking in the beautiful sights the San Diego beach has to offer. At a lull in the conversation, Bradley turned to face you, making you mimic his actions.

“Are you okay, Bradley?” You ask softly, analysing his expression, trying to anticipate what he might say to you.

“Can I kiss you?” Bradley’s question took you off guard, yet you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding in excitement.

“Yes.” You replied breathlessly, and at your response, Bradley gently cupped your face in his hands, inching closer before his lips met yours, your eyes fluttering shut at the contact. The kiss was perfect, it was like putting together two pieces of a puzzle. You didn’t want the moment to end at all but eventually, the need for air became too much and you both gently pulled away from each other, smiling as you locked eyes.

“That was… wow.” You say breathlessly.

“I’m hoping that was a good wow.” Bradley says with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

“It definitely was.” You reply, leaning in for another kiss which Bradley is more than happy to reciprocate.

“Do you think we could make this official? Will you be my girlfriend?” Bradley asks, watching you with the gentlest gaze.

“I’d be a fool to say no to you.” You say happily, pulling Bradley into a hug, your grin widening further than you thought possible, especially when Bradley pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head as he squeezed you ever so slightly closer. You had never been happier than you were in this moment with Bradley. The two of you continue to chat, embracing each other as you watch the sunset across the horizon.

“We should probably get you home, huh?” Bradley muses softly when he feels you shiver against him, instantly shedding his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. You get up wordlessly, waiting for Bradley to follow suit and then you begin to slowly walk back together, hands interlinked as you quietly converse, nothing able to wipe the smiles from your faces. When you eventually reach the end of the road leading to your dad’s house once more, you turn to face Bradley.

“Tonight was amazing.” You say, squeezing Bradley’s hand softly.

“It was.” Bradley agrees softly.

“Looks like we have an excuse to see each other more before I leave then?” You muse softly, looking at Bradley as he nods.

“Absolutely.” Bradley says, his smile gentle.

“We can meet at the Hard Deck tomorrow. My squad will be there, but I won’t make you introduce yourself if you don’t want to though. We can find a quieter part of the bar to hang out.” Bradley then continues, carefully picking his words in an attempt to not scare you off.

“I wouldn’t mind meeting your team. I believe I owe one of them a thank you for saving you and dad on that mission you went on.” You say, more than happy to meet Bradley’s team.

“Don’t thank him, it’ll go straight to his head and then he won’t be able to shut up about it for ages.” Bradley says with a laugh, thinking about how Jake would react to being thanked.

“Well, I at the very least owe him a drink for what he did.” You say with a light shrug and a smile.

“I won’t stop you but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Bradley says with a soft shake of the head, making you roll your eyes with a light scoff.

“I can handle egotistical aviators any day of the week.” You say, folding your arms across your chest and raising your eyebrow as if accepting a challenge.

“You know, I’d pay good money to see you put Hangman in his place.” Bradley admits, chuckling to himself at the mental image of you taking Jake down a peg or two.

“If I need to, I will.” You say with a soft laugh, both you and Bradley knowing that you can absolutely handle yourself. You then both fall silent for a brief moment before Bradley clears his throat softly.

“I should probably let you head back.” Bradley says, nodding in the direction of Maverick’s house, not wanting to keep too long.

“Thank you again. Tonight was amazing.” You say, taking Bradley’s jacket off and handing it to him.

“I should be thanking you.” Bradley says, slipping his jacket back on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bradley.” You whisper, stepping closer to Bradley and placing a quick, soft kiss on his lips, pulling away with a smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” Bradley whispers in response, smiling sweetly as you take a small step back offering him one last smile before turning around and making your way back to your dad’s house with a wide smile that you were sure could never fade.

When you entered the house, you were unsurprised to hear the tv on in the living room. After all, you and Bradley hadn’t been out too long, so it made sense that your dad was still up and about.

“Hey, dad.” You say, standing in the doorway to the living room, smiling as he looks over at you.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was the mini golf?” Maverick asks, his focus completely on you.

“It was great. We had a good time. I kicked Bradley’s ass of course.” You say, jokingly bragging even though you had no idea who had won or lost between you and Bradley.

“That’s my girl. Want to finish watching this movie with me?” Maverick offers, patting the sofa to encourage you over. You nod and cross the room to the sofa, easing yourself down on the sofa next to your dad, relaxing back against the cushions as you watch the movie. You loved watching movies with your dad, you had similar tastes in movies, and you made funny comments to each other during the movie, commenting on a character’s choice or how you would’ve handled a situation. Partway through the movie, your dad decided to order some food given that the two of you hadn’t had any dinner. The two of you perused a menu and picked some food before Maverick placed the order. You both continue to watch the movie until the doorbell rings, giving away that the food has arrived, and you go to pick it up from the delivery driver while Maverick grabs some plates and drinks. Once all the food is plated up, you focus back on the movie, still exchanging comments and enjoying each other’s company. It felt like forever since you had been able to spend time with your dad like this and you were so grateful that you took the time off to come and visit him.

By the time the movie had finished, the food had been eaten and you were feeling the excitement of the day catching up to you, so you stood up, stretching your arms above your head as you stood.

“I might go and start winding down. I’m exhausted.” You say, a yawn spilling past your lips as you talk, emphasising your point.

“I believe you. You go and get an early night, sweetheart.” Maverick says as you pick up your plate and cup, nodding lightly at his words, heading into the kitchen to put your things away before returning to the living room just as Maverick was standing up himself.

“Night, dad.” You mumble, reaching out to hug your dad which he happily reciprocates, holding you close.

“Night, y/n.” Maverick replies, squeezing you a little tighter before releasing you. When he lets you go, you head up to your room and quickly get ready for bed, clambering under the covers and texting Bradley. You had a back-and-forth chat with him, telling him about how excited you were to see him next and how you couldn’t wait to meet his team. You also confessed that you would like to tell your dad about your new relationship with Bradley before you went back to Chicago, but you wanted Bradley’s thoughts first and he let you know that whenever you were ready, he’d be there to help you tell Maverick.

Eventually, you fell asleep and when you woke up in the morning, you remembered that you’d be meeting with Bradley at the Hard Deck, and it kicked you into high gear. You knew you wouldn’t be meeting him until the late afternoon, but you wanted to ensure that you had sufficient time to prepare for the evening. You got up and once you were showered and dressed, you headed downstairs to make some breakfast for you and your dad. As you prepared the breakfast, you put the radio on quietly for some background noise and you hummed lightly to the song playing.

When Maverick came down for breakfast, you had just begun plating it up and you handed him a plate just as he began to sit down. You then poured him a mug of coffee, placing it down on the table with a smile before focusing on plating up your own food. You then sit down opposite your dad and the two of you have a chat over dinner. You decided you’d spend the day with your dad before heading to the Hard Deck, so you laid out a plan with your dad since you knew you didn’t have much longer left in Miramar. You were excited to do some more things with your dad, especially given the number of times you’d been disappearing in the evenings to hang out with Bradley. You go with your dad to various places around Miramar that you haven’t seen yet. He even took you to Top Gun, showing you around his workplace, and even able to show you some of the jets he flew. Stepping back into Top Gun felt familiar to you, you didn’t have any concrete memories of the building, but the familiarity was overwhelming, and you were so happy your dad found himself back at Top Gun, so he not only had the familiarity but because he also had the stability of working in one place without having to move constantly. By the time you had finished the tour of Top Gun, you became aware of the time and turned to your dad.

“Hey, dad. I promised Bradley I’d meet with him at the Hard Deck to meet his team in like an hour or so. Is it okay if I head home to get sorted?” You ask, turning to face your dad.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Bradley. Is there anything you should know about?” Maverick asks, eyebrow slightly raised as he watches you.

“Dad, it’s not like that. He just wanted me to meet his friends. Besides, I do owe one of them a drink at least for saving you and Bradley.” You reply, shrugging lightly as you explain yourself. You longed to tell your dad, but you knew it wasn’t the right time, not without Bradley to support you through it.

“Well, that’ll go straight to his head.” Maverick says with a chuckle gesturing with his head for you to follow him which you do so, trying to hide your smirk when you realise your dad has said practically the same thing that Bradley had when you mentioned buying a drink for the aviator who saved both your dad and Bradley. You followed your dad out to his car, finding it a little bit funny at the number of times he’s used the car in the duration of your stay when you know he’d much rather be riding around on his motorbike. You both get into the car and Maverick begins the drive back to his house.

Once he pulls up and parks the car, you both get out and you make your way into the house and up to your room so you can freshen up. After you’ve made yourself a little more presentable for the evening, you head back downstairs to spend a little bit more time with your dad before heading down to the Hard Deck. Just before you leave to head down to the bar, you bid your dad goodbye, promising to be back before it’s too late.

The walk to the Hard Deck was quiet without Bradley around to keep you company, but you knew you’d be seeing him soon enough. Besides, as you made your way down to the bar, you were able to appreciate the beauty around you before you had to go back to Chicago.

By the time you make it to the Hard Deck, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket making you stop in your tracks, pull your phone out of your pocket to read the message you had received from Bradley, letting you know that he was in the Hard Deck and that you could just head in whenever you were ready. Taking a deep breath, you head into the bustling bar, glancing around and quickly locating Bradley just by his Hawaiian shirt, seeing him standing with a group of people who you could only assume were his team. As you cross the room, Bradley turns around and catches sight of you, eyes lighting up as he smiles and crosses to meet you in the middle, instantly capturing your lips in his for a sweet kiss.

“Well, that’s one way to say hello.” You mumble with a smile as you both pull away slightly, smiling at each other.

“I’m just happy to see you.” Bradley confesses softly, pulling you into a gentle hug, and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“That makes both of us.” You reply happily, eyes fluttering closed in the embrace for a brief moment before you pull away.

“Let’s get you acquainted with the team, shall we?” Bradley says, wrapping a gentle arm around your waist and guiding you over to the group of people he had just been standing with by the pool table. As you approach the group, Bradley is quick to introduce you to everyone, making sure he made it known that you were his girlfriend before he introduced everyone by name. Once you had been introduced to everyone, you turned to address the group.

“Alright, so which of you is the one I owe a drink for saving my dad and Bradley?” You ask, making the group exchange looks at the realisation that you’re not only Bradley’s girlfriend but Maverick’s daughter as well. Once they get over the initial shock of the revelation, a blond man steps forward, a cocky smirk on his face as he smiles at you.

“Well, sounds like you owe me a drink then.” He says with a smirk, leaning back against the pool table with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m a woman of my word.” You say simply, shrugging with a laugh before going over to the bar to order a drink for both you and Jake from Penny, greeting her happily as you do so. When you’ve grabbed the drinks, you return to the group, handing one of the beers to Jake which he takes happily, making sure everyone saw the special treatment he believed he was getting.

“You weren’t lying when you said it would go to his head.” You muse with a laugh as Bradley winds an arm around your middle, pulling your back to his chest as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“He’s just warming up.”

Unbeknownst to you and the others, Maverick entered the bar while you were all occupied with your conversations and sat himself at the bar, smiling at Penny as he did so. As he received his drink, he glanced over at you with the Daggers, and his eyebrows furrowed as he saw the embrace Bradley had you in, and he certainly didn’t miss Bradley pressing soft kisses to your cheek as you laughed, looking up at him with all the love in the world.

“Did you know about them?” Maverick asks the next time Penny stops in front of him, gesturing over in your direction with his head.

“No more than you did clearly. But it was obvious they liked each other the moment they had that little meet-up when y/n first came back. Bradley did mention you warning him away from her though.” Penny says, focusing her attention on a stain on the bar top and wiping a cloth along it.

“I just didn’t want her to get hurt. I know what aviators are like.” Maverick says, eyes fixed on the drop of condensation running down the beer bottle in his hand.

“Pete, she’s not a child and I’m sure she’s told you as much. Besides, Bradley looks at her like she holds the entire world in her hands. Bradley’s not like the others. Give him a chance.” Penny says softly, watching the man in front of her softly, seeing how he silently processes her words. Instead of responding, Maverick looked back over to where you and Bradley were, and he could see the look of love evident on both of your faces.

Suddenly, a patron at the bar who was clearly already much too drunk stumbled in your direction and Maverick was convinced he had never seen a quicker reaction from Bradley until right now. Bradley, with one of the arms he had wrapped around your middle, carefully manoeuvred you so that you were now behind him, and he took the brunt of the patron falling on him, immediately steadying him while shooting him a warning look. Once the guy had wandered back to his friends, Bradley turned around to face you, placing gentle hands on your hips and giving you a soft kiss, pulling away with a gentle smile before inaudibly chuckling at something you said.

“They look happy together.” Maverick says softly, thinking of how Goose used to look at Carole the same way Bradley was looking at you.

“They do. Give Bradley a chance.” Penny reiterates, looking down at Maverick who nods sheepishly.

“I’ll speak to them in a bit. I don’t want to disturb them yet.” Maverick says, turning his attention to Penny, smiling softly at her before striking up a new conversation with her.

Across the bar, you were talking to the Daggers, finding out some more stories from when Bradley had first come back to Top Gun.

“Should’ve seen him. He was a menace when he found out Maverick was teaching. Damn near got themselves killed during training with the stunts they pulled.” Jake explains, beer in hand as he leans up against a nearby table as you watch Bradley and Natasha play a game of pool against each other.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Bradley was pretty pissed at dad when everything went down, and dad’s stubborn as anything.” You say with a gentle roll of the eyes.

“I’m just glad they got past their issues by the time they went on the mission. I hate to admit it, but they’re our best solo aviators.” Javy admits with a chuckle, making you smile as Jake gawps in mock shock.

“I’m right here you know. I’m the one who saved their asses.” Jake shoots in retaliation, making you and Javy laugh to yourselves.

“What are you two laughing about?” Bradley asks with a smile, sidling up alongside you.

“Javy admitting that you and dad were among the best two pilots for the mission seemed to be a bit of a hit to Jake’s ego.” You explain, making Bradley chuckle as he reaches out to clap Jake on the shoulder then holding out the pool stick for him to take.

“Let’s step outside for a minute.” Bradley mumbles, his voice low as he dips his head near your ear so you can have a semi-private conversation with the bustling volume of the bar. You nod and let Bradley lead you towards the front door of the bar, both of you instantly stopping in your tracks when you see your dad standing near the door, a soft smile on his face.

“Can we talk?” He asks the two of you, eyes flicking between you and Bradley as you both nod lightly. Maverick then gestures for you to follow him outside which you do, stepping out onto the deck and watching the waves crash against the beach.

“Mav I-”

“Bradley, I think it’s best I do the talking here. Look I was wrong to tell the two of you to stay away from each other. Just seeing the two of you earlier was enough of a wake-up call for me to realise that I was being a dick and that you both clearly love each other. I won’t get in your way.” Maverick says, making you and Bradley exchange a look before looking back at your dad.

“Dad…” You mumble, heart softening at your dad’s gentle smile.

“Bradley looks at you the same way Goose looked at Carole.” Maverick then continues, making you look at Bradley who has a slight blush painted across his cheeks at the revelation.

“Thank you, Mav. I promise I’ll look after her.” Bradley promises, holding a hand out for Bradley to shake, instead being pulled into a hug by your dad.

“I know you will.” Maverick says reassuringly before pulling away from the embrace, patting Bradley on the shoulder, and taking a step back before you hug your dad gratefully.

“I love you dad, thank you for giving us a chance.” You whisper, only audible to you and Maverick.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now, enjoy the rest of your evening.” Maverick replies, squeezing you a little tighter and planting a kiss on the top of your head before releasing you and heading back into the Hard Deck. After the door closes behind your dad, Bradley turns to face you with a grin and slightly raised eyebrow.

“Would you like to come to mine?”

It took practically no time for you and Bradley to get back to his small house, the two of you head into the living room and settle down on the sofa. As you sit down, Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side gently. At the shift of embrace, you look up at Bradley, a soft smile on your face that matches his. Before you knew it, you started to lean up to press your lips to his softly, pulling away for a brief moment to adjust yourself, turning yourself more towards Bradley and cupping his face in your hands before kissing him once more. Bradley was quick to reciprocate the kiss, bracing a gentle hand on the back of your head in an attempt to hold you closer while his other hand winds around your waist, pulling you closer in that way as well as your eyes and his flutter closed. When the need for air becomes too much for both of you, you pull away but only enough to press your foreheads against each other, eyes opening again as your hand drifts up to play with Bradley’s hair.

“I know your dad pointed it out earlier but… I love you.” Bradley murmurs, a shy smile on his face as you smile back.

“I love you too.” You reply quietly before Bradley reconnects your lips for another kiss. Pulling you impossibly closer until air is needed once more.

“I know I’ve already asked you to be my girl, but what if you stayed? Is there a way you could stay here, with me?” Bradley asks, knowing that it was probably a long shot to ask you such a question, especially when the two of you had not long got together but he couldn’t just sit by and let his chances slip by again. To his surprise, you smiled, and gently ran a hand through his hair.

“I was actually visiting for more than just seeing dad. I actually got an offer to transfer to a hospital here in San Diego. I wanted to see the area before I made a choice and… I think I have a reason to accept it now.” You say, barely able to finish your sentence before Bradley kisses you again, gently pushing you back until you are lying back on the sofa with him hovering over you.

“Well looks like we have some good news to celebrate then.” Bradley says after breaking the kiss, smiling down at you as you smile back.

“Sounds like we do.” You mumble before grabbing the lapels of Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt to pull him back down for another kiss.

“I think we should take this to my room.” Bradley mumbles against your lips, making you loosen your grip on his shirt slightly so he can pull away, pulling you up with him yet still unable to keep his hands and lips off you as you make your way upstairs to his room. Just as you reach the door to his room you begin tugging his Hawaiian shirt off, carelessly discarding it on the floor as Bradley braces himself against the door, pushing it open behind him as you stumble in after him.

You couldn’t wait to make the move to Miramar now you had Bradley. You knew he was worth the risk.

[sochai13]

domestic dazai … <3 pt 2

— dazai’s eyes lighting up the moment he noticed you decided to wear a loose fitting shirt today. that day months ago you idly commented on how freezing his hands tended to be, it became routine of him to transfer that coldness onto your skin any chance presented. of course he had to play this out right and wait for a moment you’d be distracted— having grown much too accustomed to this habit of his. dazai’d watch as you got up from the couch and grabbed a glass of water, turning around and facing the counter to sneak up on you. his hands slid under your shirt, immediately pressing against your sides making your shoulders fly up as you let out a startled gasp. snickers sounded from behind as you slowly put down the glass you almost dropped.

— dazai stubbornly laying down after you finally convinced him he couldn’t casually walk about with a sore throat, sinus pressure, and a moderate fever. it was even more frustrating to get him to take just minimal medicine. complaints and whines that “it tastes bad” and “it makes me nauseous” left dazai’s dry lips as he attempted to cozy up beneath the sheets despite how his temperature fluctuated. he reluctantly agreed under the condition you’d massage his head with those magical fingers of yours (as he calls it). honestly, it was worth it. looking upon that peaceful expression on his face you (anyone really) rarely got sight of after he fell asleep within five minutes was enough of a reward. his eyes were closed, lips slightly parted as his chest slowly rose and fell. he’d trusted you enough to completely let his guard down forever ago, but it still caused a small smile to grace your lips at the sight.

— dazai using some pen he found in your bag to idly doodle on your hand and arm. the two of you were sitting on some empty bench in a park, water flowing in a fountain nearby. the weather had already began to cool down, leaves falling and breezes occasionally picking up as shivers would run down your spines. there’d been nothing to keep you entertained all day, the current scenario finding you both here. “you’re really good at that” you softly muttered as he used the black ink to create pretty flowers along your wrist. dazai simply flashed you a small smile before his focus redirected back to his little canvas.

— dazai lying in bed with you, his eyes half lidded. moonlight illuminated the room through the blinds. last time you checked, it was around 1AM… maybe? his gaze fixated on your face tiredly, eyes analyzing each one of your features like he was seeing you for the first time again. the side of his face rested on his palm as his elbow was propped against the pillow. his other hand ran through your hair, gently brushing the extra strands out your eyes. your fingertips ran along his skin, some areas calloused and some smooth. his whole body was yours to find solace in, save for a few spots currently covered by bandages. not many words were exchanged, just the sounds of your breaths and the fan above you two, though the silence was enough to provide a shared melancholy.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Recently, the surge of AI has caught everyone's attention and I've been working on this little experiment.

Down below the cut are two fics and this is how I planned it - one was made up by using AI (more specifically, Chat Gpt) while the other one was written by yours truly. Below both fics will be a poll and I would like for you, my dear readers, to guess which one was AI. Personally, I don't think it'll be a difficult challenge but seeing your reactions and comments on this should prove to be an interesting endeavor.

This was posted on April 17th. And, in 7 days, I shall reveal which fic was written by me, and which one was done by AI.

Now then, let's get on with the show.

🥀 Story One.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Yokohama, Fyodor Dostoevsky stalks his obsession, (y/n), with unwavering determination. His fixation transcends reason, driving him to extreme lengths to possess (y/n)'s affection.

Fyodor's obsession with (y/n) began innocently enough, a mere curiosity sparked by their untapped potential and innocence. But as time passed, that curiosity twisted into an all-consuming desire, festering within Fyodor's mind like a venomous serpent.

Each night, Fyodor would follow (y/n) from a distance, his heart pounding with anticipation and longing. He would watch as (y/n) laughed with their friends, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

But Fyodor's love was not the gentle, nurturing kind. It was possessive, suffocating, and dangerously obsessive. He couldn't bear the thought of (y/n) belonging to anyone but him, couldn't stand the idea of anyone else basking in the warmth of (y/n)'s smile.

As his obsession deepened, Fyodor's mind became consumed with dark fantasies of possessing (y/n) completely. He would spend hours meticulously planning every detail of their future together, envisioning a life where they were inseparable.

But fantasies were not enough for Fyodor. He needed to make them a reality, no matter the cost. And so, he began to weave a web of deception and manipulation, carefully orchestrating events to bring (y/n) closer to him and drive away anyone who dared to stand in their way.

But as Fyodor's plans grew more elaborate, so too did the danger. (y/n)'s friends grew suspicious of Fyodor's intentions, sensing something sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. And as they delved deeper into Fyodor's past, they uncovered secrets that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed world.

But Fyodor was not about to let anyone come between him and his beloved. He would do whatever it took to protect their love, even if it meant resorting to violence.

🥀 Story Two.

Shimmering waves of starlight engulfed the man in white as he monitored his target from a safe distance, hollow purple eyes gleaming with excitement. He could feel his long fingers twitching with anticipation in his warm pockets, a stark contrast to the chilly wind on this fine spring evening.

He needed to be patient. Because patience was indeed, a virtue.

And Fyodor was a virtuous man. Perhaps not a good one, but he would gladly take the title of virtue.

Would you bestow upon him such a title? Would you do so, if you ever found out that he had taken such a keen interest in you? The rational part in his mind said no, of course not. Unlike him, you were blessed with normalcy. There was nothing extraordinary about you - no ability, no wealth, no status.

Nothing.

You could have been squished like a bug beneath his heel and the world would just keep on going as it always would. Sure, there would be some individuals who would miss you dearly but even they would move on at some point.

Such was the nature of humanity. How cruel, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for you, Fyodor was no ordinary man. Despite his predicament, he had grown fond of you. He was not sure why but after a while, he stopped asking such trifling questions as to why he troubled himself by giving you so much attention.

It was pointless to make sense of the senseless.

Right here, right now, all he wanted was to enjoy this quiet evening by his lonesome, as he tailed behind you like a creeping shadow. He would reveal himself to you properly when the time was right, when he felt you were strong enough to take him.

Fyodor just needed to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to see how he should proceed with you in case things went south.

In the meantime, he would gladly spend every waking moment simply watching you for his own personal pleasure.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osachiyo, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut, @wcayaw, @luna-mariko-akatsuki, @lovelyyz, @queenofspades403

APRIL 24TH - Story One is AI.