#did not expect the writing section to be so long but I hope you enjoy!

[maybejaime]

Hello! I saw that your asks were open and that you’re working on a WITW project! Would you be interested in making anything winter themed? Like Mole giving a gift to the wild wooders? Or something sweet and heartwarming :)

No pressure to make it! Just some silly ideas as the weather gets colder!

Happy Holidays! Apologies this took so long, but thank you for the great idea (there will be more from this prompt coming including some with Cheryl and Lesser!)

Part One

Close-ups and story below!

Mole was ever so pleased with himself, holding the gift out to his unlikely housemate- it had only been a couple of seasons since Chief Weasel had stumbled into the burrow, exhausted and wounded; and despite the quirks of living with a wild wooder struck with cabin fever, Mole couldn’t say he had hated it.

Chief looked at the box, incredulous, with an expression somewhere between confusion, fear, and frustration. The blackberry pie on his fork slowly drooped until it fell back onto the plate.

Mole and Ratty had foraged the fruit in the pie- they’d spent an afternoon taking a turn down the country lanes and paths, picking blackberries off the bushes and pricking their fingers as they did so. The intent had been to make a pie for Mrs Otter, you see, but before it had even cooled, Mole returned from lunch with Ratty to find the weasel practically elbow deep in the pie.

He’d initially been angry, but he’d learned about the scarcity of food for the Wild Wooders and had began to understand exactly why Chief and the other stoats and weasels were always so hungry. It didn’t exactly allow him to forgive the weasel for almost eating him in their first meeting, but it certainly softened the memory slightly.

“Go on,” Mole smiled, “Open it.”

“What… is this?” Chief responded with, tone unreadable.

“It’s a gift. For Christmas! For you- you know, I thought it pertinent to include you in the festivities considering you’re away from your family this Winter.”

“…Family? Nah, nah, those Wild Wooders ain’t my family, they’re simply acquaintances, if that. Glad to be rid of ‘em, in fact.”

Though at any earlier time, Mole would’ve believed the statement and marvelled at the hostility of the weasel, Chief had looked away as he spoke, directing his eye contact to the pie instead. And that, Mole had learnt, was the Chief Weasel’s tell. He was lying, and now that Mole knew that, the strain in his voice from somewhere around his throat was obvious.

Mole wanted to ask ‘why do you pretend you don’t care?’; but he had a feeling that would only be met with hostility, so he tried something else.

“So… do you not give gifts around Christmas?”

“Nah! ‘Course not, don’t want people thinkin’ we’re givin’ handouts to any old creature.”

“But it isn’t a- a ‘handout’. It’s a gift, you know, to show someone you love them!” Mole frowned, cradling the gift closer.

Chief’s eyes darted away again, a flash of his fangs showing as he bit his lip, before he realised he was doing it and reset his face to that same old scowl.

“Gifts show weakness. Love shows weakness.” He grumbled, and he quite frankly looked miserable.

Mole sighed, putting the present on the table and sitting beside him.

“Well what do you do?”

“What?”

“When you want to give a frie- When you want to give someone something?” Mole knew that Lesser Weasel and Cheryl Stoat were Chief’s friends, but apparently the Wild Wooder seemed intent on pretending otherwise, “How do you do that without ‘showing weakness’?”

“Ah, now that’s simple! Just find out where they are, and drop the thing where they’ll find it! Then you didn’t give somethin’ away without expectin’ anythin’ in return, and they got their gift!” He paused, “I mean- thing. Not gift.”

“If I’m entirely honest, that seems like a lot of hoops to jump through to come to the same scenario as this…” Mole motioned to the box- he’d wrapped it too well for it to be discarded; had even found a dried flower to tie into the ribbon!

Chief seemed to consider it, responding with only a shrug as he jabbed at the pie with his fork.

“Well,” Mole murmured quietly, pushing the box closer towards Chief, “I’m gonna go and get some logs for the fire. It would be a shame if someone were to steal this very nicely wrapped gift.”

And then he stood, wondering off to the nook where he kept all his logs and coal. He felt Chief’s eyes on him as he left, and he pretended not to hear the quiet and geniunely ‘thank you, Mole’ that came from behind.

That night, as they huddled around the fire- the box was nowhere to be seen, Chief was fiddling with a new hat; and he had a smile on his face that matched the comfort in his posture. The two of them drank and made merry until the early hours of the morning- Chief had never been so jolly, and Mole had never known that a Wild Wooder could be such a good friend.

[blue-lights-to-dreams]

Golden Light // H.S.

synopsis: you go on a blind date with Harry at your best friend's insistence and enjoy it much more than you expected.

wc: 3.9k

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! i haven't written fic in a hot minute, so let me know what you think! this will likely have a part 2 where the exciting stuff happens, but writing even this much took me forever so i wanted to share before the Christmas mentions became irrelevant, lol!

The streets of New York City are beautiful this time of year. Christmas lights twinkle in nearly every retail storefront, some even including a dusting of ripped-up cotton balls and other snow-like materials. Just ignore the grey sludge coating the streets.

You were never one for holiday cheer, and today was no exception. Despite thinking the same of every single day, you’ve had what you would consider the longest day of your life. Your first meeting ran late by just a few minutes, but even this was enough to push your calendar so far off that you needed to reschedule your final call with the client you’d been waiting almost a month to meet with.

There was nothing more in this world you wanted to do than curl up in bed with a bottle of wine and a silk eye mask. But, here you were, trudging down the streets of New York City in your slightly uncomfortable heels, trying to dodge puddles, slush, and other mysterious substances on the sidewalk, on your way to a blind date. Emma had set you up with a friend of her boyfriend’s, and she’d made you promise you’d give him a chance.

Your last relationship had ended with a bang after you went to his apartment to surprise him after getting out of work early one afternoon, only to find him in bed with a blonde girl you never did learn the name of. 

You could easily find a man to wake up to the next morning, but after years of running your own business, it wasn’t as simple as walking into a bar to meet Mr. Right. You’d dated enough men with little ambition; you needed someone who had drive– had success.

All you knew about your date for the night was his name was Harry, he was a record executive, and, according to Emma, he was hot.

The pit in your stomach only grew as you approached Bella Napoli. It didn’t help you’d spent the last six blocks trying to lift your dress and nearly-floor-length coat high enough to keep it out of the puddles.

The little blue location dot on your maps app glided closer to the restaurant with each step you took, nearly there - mist ghosted over your nose with each exhale, doing nothing to keep it warm in the frigid weather of the city, and you couldn’t wait to get inside.

Finally, you spotted the marquee sign affixed to the small brick building half a block up, signaling the end of your journey. The glass-front double doors opened easily under your hasty pull, eager to feel the heat of the brick building’s furnace.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the hostess greeted from behind her podium. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and prominent cheekbones.

“Good evening, I have a reservation under (Y/L/N),” you brushed stray snowflakes off of your wool coat. Emma had ensured she would let Harry know the reservation would be under your name, and you hoped she hadn’t forgotten.

“Ah, yes, table for two? Right this way.” The young woman stepped from behind the podium and began heading toward the main dining area. You followed her as she snaked around the tables full of affluently dressed couples and businessmen in suits, reaching a small archway leading into a more dimly-lit section of the restaurant. 

She led you to a booth in the corner with velvet seats and matching curtains, held open by small hooks on either side - out of sight from most of the other patrons in the section, who didn’t seem to be paying any mind to you anyway. A small candle sat between two menus, adjacent to a traditional silverware layout and an empty highball glass on either side of the booth.

You slid onto the bench facing the room’s entrance as the hostess filled each glass with ice water. She nodded as you thanked her and informed her a man by the name of Harry should be arriving soon to join you. Just in case Emma had forgotten.

The menu was short but obviously well-curated. The wine list was almost twice the length of the food menu - just how you liked it. You skimmed the offerings, deciding on a merlot of the second-highest price point. Your anxiety still made itself known in the way your stomach was twisting. You checked the time. It was 5:58 pm - still two minutes early. You hoped the wine would drown the butterflies (or maybe moths) in your stomach.

Your eyes returned to the restaurant’s food offerings but were again drawn upwards as another person sauntered into the secluded section of the restaurant. His pale grey, half-unbuttoned silk shirt settled just under the gold cross necklace grazing the indent between his pecs. A blazer of a much darker grey draped his shoulders, matching the straight-legged trousers just long enough to only allow the front of his patent-leather black loafers to peek out from under them. 

The air suddenly felt heavy, like you couldn’t get a breath in. Who is the lucky lady he’s here with tonight? Your eyes darted around the section, trying to find his date, but coming up empty. 

Shit, is this Harry?

Your fears are confirmed as you realize the hostess had entered the room a bit ahead of him and was leading him to your booth. The poor girl looked entirely flustered.

“Here you are, sir. Your waitress will be over shortly to grab your drink orders,” she squeaked, turning on her heels and scurrying away as quickly as possible.

You smiled at him as you shuffled out of the booth and rose to your feet, trying to seem much more confident than you were. You reached about the height of his shoulder in your heels.

“You must be (Y/N),” he spoke with a slight smile, glancing at your attire before returning his eyes to meet yours.

“That would be me. And you must be Harry.” You smiled back at him, subconsciously smoothing out the part of the dress resting on your hips.

Harry took a step toward you with arms extended, pulling you into an easy hug, His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He smelled like an intoxicating mix of vanilla, patchouli, and musk. Expensive. Even just brushing your fingers across his suit jacket as he pulled away, the feel of the fibers suggested it had also not been cheap.

“You look stunning. I love the color of your dress,” he complimented, pulling back slightly with his hand hovering over your waist. “It looks great on you.”

“Thank you, it was actually a gift from my mother.” Compliment-taking was not your forte.

“Well, she has great taste. Shall we?” He motioned toward the set table, waiting for you to take your seat before sliding into the bench on the opposite side. “Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t, but I’ve heard great things. Have you?” His ring-clad fingers picked up the beverage menu in front of him as you spoke.

“I have, it’s one of my favorites.” That must have been why he suggested it.

“Is the Merlot any good? That’s what I was thinking of ordering, but I’m open to suggestions.” You played with the seam of your dress under the table absentmindedly.

“Now that, I haven’t had. I’m more of a white wine guy myself. I’m a fan of the Riesling.”

“Really? My first guess would have been whiskey, honestly.” There exists a pattern in these kinds of men - they always drank some very expensive whiskey they needed to tell you all about, as if it didn’t taste like smoke-flavored lighter fluid.

“I tend to prefer a sweeter taste,” his eyebrows twitched as he raised the glass of water to his lips. You nodded before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, taking time to browse the food menu.

It wasn’t very extensive, with a few choices to pick from each protein category. You settled on a grilled chicken tagliatelle with a cream sauce, hoping it would pair well with the wine.

“Hi, my name is Danielle and I’ll be taking care of you this evening,” a voice burst your bubble of concentration, “have we decided on what we’d like to drink?”

You recited your wine order first, with Harry following shortly after. The waitress jotted down your selections in her notepad before exiting the room with a promise to be back to take your food orders shortly.

“So, Emma said you work in marketing?” he spoke slowly. His accent was thick, only further drawing you into the conversation.

“PR, actually,” you replied, “I have my own firm, with a few employees. I love it.”

“That’s amazing,” he sounded sincere. “How long have you been in PR?”

“Almost a decade, but I’ve had the firm for a little over 3 years. At first, it was just myself operating out of my apartment, but we’ve been able to build up some clientele and move to an actual office space. Emma said you work for Atlas Sound, right?” you shifted the conversation away from yourself, curious about what exactly came with being a record executive.

“That’s right. I’m mostly in charge of production but I help out with some of the publishing aspects as well.”

“Ah, so no talent scouting? I was hoping this could be my big break…” you mused, narrowing your eyes at him. Harry chuckled, flashing the smile you’d found yourself dead set on seeing more of. 

“No, no, unfortunately, that’s not me, but I may know some people who could help. Let me guess, rap?”

You almost choked on the water you’d just taken a sip of, but managed to swallow it before the laugh burst from your throat. It caught you off guard - Harry honestly didn’t look like he would even know what rap is. A silly notion, given his career, but true anyway.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” Harry stated sincerely, and your heart just about stopped. 

Before you got the chance to respond, a full wine glass was placed in front of each of you. You hadn’t even noticed the waitress had come back. “Here are those drinks. Did we decide on what we’d like to eat? I can make some suggestions if you’re not sure what to get…”

It appeared as if she’d forgotten you were even in the room with the way she was staring directly at Harry. You couldn’t blame the girl - you’d been staring too - but she could definitely tell the two of you were on a date, so she could have at least been a little more subtle.

Harry smiled politely (and briefly) at her before turning his attention back to you to confirm you were ready to order. You both relayed your choices to the waitress, and you appreciated that Harry did not seem like he was interested in entertaining her advances.

“Anyways, where were we…” he smiled again, and your heart lurched.

Conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, aided by the wine in your glasses. You found yourself getting less and less nervous about him not being the right fit, but more and more nervous you were somehow making a fool of yourself. 

The story of how one of your interns accidentally jammed the copier so badly you had to buy a completely new unit made Harry laugh loudly. It was one of many stories you had from your job that were definitely funnier in retrospect than they were as they happened. You were aware you’d talked a lot so far, but you couldn’t help it. The way Harry spoke was attractive, but the way he listened was even better. He seemed genuinely interested in the stories you told, maintaining eye contact, nodding in the right spots, and asking thoughtful follow-up questions. It had been a while since you’d had a date genuinely listen to you, and it was refreshing. 

He asked more about your job, and you found yourself telling him how as much as you like being “in charge” and able to have control over your firm, sometimes it was incredibly stressful, especially in emergencies. He could see the stress that followed you home every day seep back into your expression, despite you trying your best not to let it show.

His ring-clad hand slid across the table, fingers gently entwining with yours and giving them a quick squeeze.

“You know, I think you’re brave for taking that risk. You should be proud of what you’ve built.” The eye contact he made with you as he spoke was intense, with sincerity behind his words. His hand was warm, contrasting the cool feeling of the metal rings, and you subconsciously squeezed it back in an attempt to keep it where it was. Luckily, your hands stayed intertwined for another couple of minutes as you expressed your appreciation for his kindness and shifted the conversation back to his job until your food was in front of you.

The meals were delicious, just as Harry had promised. He’d ordered a mushroom risotto that looked delicious, and your pasta tasted perfect with the wine you’d chosen. Good job, self.

Soon, you found your plate nearly empty and your body warm from the alcohol. Your thoughts felt slightly fuzzy, and you caught yourself staring a little too long at the rings on Harry’s right hand, as well as the fingers adorning them. The muscles flexed as he moved his hands while speaking, and you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away. You knew how his hand felt in yours, but how would it feel touching your cheek, against your back, gripping your - 

“Did you save room for dessert? The tiramisu is incredible.” Harry’s voice broke your train of thought, and you quickly averted your eyes back to his. What seemed like a slight smirk played on his face, but you couldn’t tell if it was because he’d noticed the staring, or if the alcohol was just affecting him as well. You prayed for the latter.

“That sounds great, but I can probably only take a few bites. Would you want to share a piece?” you suggested, much too full for an entire dessert to yourself.

“I’d love to.” Harry absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythm you couldn’t place, not helping your attempts not to stare. “So, tell me more about that yoga class?”

The conversation flowed again, with Harry ordering dessert when the waitress stopped by. Of course, you were just as interested in his words as he was in yours, hanging on his every accented sentence. He was a captivating storyteller and his facial expressions were no different - you loved how his eyes lit up at the good parts and narrowed at the bad in the story. The slight scruff on his face complimented the way his mouth moved as it formed words, drawing you closer. How would they feel against your own lips, you wondered? 

You could hear the words he was saying, but you weren’t fully listening as he continued telling you about the time he got a little too drunk at a friend’s birthday party and ended up volunteering to give a speech he had in no way prepared for. It was a great story, very funny, but your mind was otherwise preoccupied. Wine always made you… flirty.

Soon, the tiramisu was in front of you. This, too, looked delicious - Harry was right again.

“Would you like the first bite?” He offered, picking up one of the small forks laid out on the plate and scooping a bite of the dessert onto it.

“Well, ladies first I suppose,” you joked. You parted your mouth slightly as you leaned forward, waiting for him to place the fork on your tongue. What you weren’t expecting was for his other hand to reach out and lightly grasp your jaw, thumb on your chin to hold your mouth farther open. A choked gasp escaped your lips at the same time the sweet cake hit your tongue, but you could barely taste it, too distracted by the skin contact. Again, his eyes didn’t leave yours as he allowed your mouth to close and pulled his hand away from your face.

“Well? How is it?” he asked, with a definite smirk this time. 

You tried to compose yourself before answering, swallowing the dessert and the lump that had formed in your throat. “It’s good… really good.” Your voice came out breathier than you intended, and you blinked heavily a couple of times, trying to kickstart the part of your brain that could think of anything except what you’d like to do with the gorgeous man sitting in front of you.

Harry took his own bite next, letting his eyes flutter shut as his mouth closed around the fork. His long eyelashes rested atop his strong cheekbones, the same ones you almost had to physically stop yourself from reaching over to brush your fingertips over. His lips were a stunning, dark shade of red, still slightly wet from the wine he’d been enjoying.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the bite, slightly brushing against the collar of his shirt. Seafoam green eyes made contact with yours as he opened them again, and a small smile graced his face as he realized you’d been watching him intently.

“You’re right, it is really good.” Your heart raced under the fervency of his gaze. He was staring into you like he wanted to read the thoughts echoing in your brain. “Would you like another bite?”

“Sure, but I can feed myself this one if you like,” you attempted to lighten the intense mood that had befallen your booth so you might actually be able to catch your breath,

“That won’t be necessary, I was quite enjoying myself,” Harry mused, refusing to break eye contact until you did. He scooped another bite onto the fork, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear before resuming his grip on your jaw and returning the fork to your lips. He felt your jaw flex as you chewed and swallowed the bite, but didn’t take his hand off of your face. Instead, he brought his thumb back to your lips and brushed below them gently, careful not to smudge your lipstick. 

He brought his thumb back to his mouth and slowly closed his lips around the pad of it, a half-smile tugging at his lips at your bewildered expression. “Sorry, you had a little something there. I figured I’d get it for you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath instead of attempting to utter a response.

He took another bite himself before offering you another, which you obliged with little hesitation.

“You know, Harry, you need to be careful feeding me like this or I’ll get used to it.” Another feeble attempt to ease the tension and stop acting like a flustered teenager.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmured, voice sincere and slow, laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine, “if it means I keep getting to see your cheeks flush.”

He’d noticed how your body was responding to him, whether or not you tried to hide it. Your face burned again, sinking further into the booth behind you in slight embarrassment.

“Well, it doesn’t help that I’m on a date with an attractive man who’s feeding me tiramisu. I think that’s every woman’s dream.”

“So it’s working?” His face glowed in the candlelight, a smirk on his face but a subtle vulnerability behind his eyes.

You knew what he was implying, but wanted to regain some of the power you’d lost by being so flustered. “Maybe.”

“That’s not good enough for me. I need a yes.” He needed confirmation that you were on the same page.

“And what exactly am I saying yes to?” A sip of wine ran down your throat as you awaited his response.

“To letting me walk you home after this,” Harry stated bluntly, scanning your face for your reaction. You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, but you held your composure, leaning back casually against the booth behind you as you pretended to mull it over. You already knew what you wanted.

“Alright, Harry,” you smirked, bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, “let’s see where the night takes us.”

- - - - - - - - - - 

“God, it’s freezing out here,” you groaned, dodging patches of ice. You were nearly home, your apartment building visible up the street.

Harry had grabbed your hand under the guise of keeping it warm a few minutes ago, something you were grateful for now as you gripped it tightly, trying to navigate the snow-covered ground in heels with little traction. He’d offered to call an Uber, but you wanted some more time with him without a driver listening in on your conversation.

As you approached the building, your imagination ran with thoughts of getting him upstairs, into your apartment, into your living room… 

Before you could get too far, you were at the front door. Your free hand patted over the pockets of your jacket to ensure that you had your keys and found them in your left pocket.

“I had a great time with you tonight, Y/N,” Harry turned to face you, not letting go of your hand. “I’d love to do this again, sometime, if you’d be interested.”

A slight flush now graced his face, glancing at the ground as he awaited your response.

“I had a lovely time. I’d love to see you again,” you confirmed quickly, not letting him worry for too long.

He was beaming now, allowing you to admire his prominent dimples. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help but smile right back at the sight.

“There’s that beautiful smile again,” he quipped. His free hand reached for your jaw, cradling it again as you both continued to grin at each other for a few moments. A silence fell upon you again, and Harry’s eyes searched yours for a second before flickering to your lips, which had slowly returned to a resting state. As he moved his gaze back up, your eyes gleamed with the reflections of Christmas lights and were swimming with the need for more contact with him. He inhaled slowly, nervously, before exhaling sharply. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded quickly, gripping his collar to pull him closer before his mouth met yours. Electricity sparked between the two of you, his luscious lips colliding with yours over and over again, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The kiss started slow, but quickly became deeper, more desperate, as he gripped your waist tightly and pulled you close to him. Your hands searched for solace, moving from his collar to his cheeks before lightly running through the hair at the back of his neck.

He tore his lips away from yours but didn’t stray far, pressing his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You could see both of your small pants in the air as they fogged due to the cold. A small smile played on each of your lips, and you just knew your lipstick was half-gone because you could definitely see some of it on Harry.

“You know,” you pulled away, straightening your stance confidently, “I have a bottle of wine upstairs if you’d like to help me drink it.”

Harry grinned. “I would love to.”

part 2!

[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.

[chilschuck]

So... How about Laios x a dragonkin reader? (Specifically an ice dragon, they just look so fluffy!!)

I can imagine having sections of her body covered in soft feathers! Something like Falin at the end of the manga. I also think her body runs on the colder side of things, you know? For one reason she's partially covered in feathers. So I imagine her being quite affectionate, the warmth that others radiate is just something she can't deny!

I can picture Laios basically vibrating with excitement as he asks questions about her and her body, and, can you llame him? Come on! She is half dragon! How could he pass up this opportunity!?

And before any of the party (Marcille) can stop him or say something, she accepts perhaps too calmly (I can hear the "HUH?" from Marcille rn)

Laios' enthusiasm is like that of a child at Christmas as he asks questions and lets his hands explore his feather-covered wings. He compares and looks for the less noticeable differences between her and a real dragon, measuring her saw-sharp teeth and making comments without any shame, while reader just sits, answering the questions that she can answer, looking happier than she should.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAHHH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST and i hope i did it justice!!! i did some headcanons but writing a piece for this one day would be sooo fun!! i hope this is close to what you were thinking!!!!

— LAIOS x ice dragonkin!reader.

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw fluff! gn!reader.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 365

✦ i’m fighting off allergies and brainfog so i apologize if this is incoherent at all, lol. if you’d like a drabble, feel free to submit something again and i’d love to do another dragonkin!reader piece for you!! hope you enjoy! <3

✦ Laios is instantly drawn to you. This isn’t surprising considering his fascination with monsters, but it doesn’t help that you’re cute, too. Don’t even get him started on how sweet you look with all those feathers. And if you let him run his fingers through them, you’d see his face light up so brightly with delight!

✦ You aren’t naturally very warm, so you’ve found yourself sneaking into Laios’ bedroll and nuzzling into his side. Laios doesn’t mind this at all, and even encourages you to take all the warmth from him you need. (As long as you answer some of his ramblings!)

✦ Laios is extremely excited when you first meet, eyes filled with wonder and chest giddy with curiosity. Expect him to start babbling out questions and watching you closely. “Wow… Look at those feathers!” or “Is it okay if I touch your wings?” will definitely be said a bit too loudly as he’s basically vibrating on the spot. Before Marcille can reel him back in, to her bewilderment you give a sweet nod and a calming smile. (I think she just about falls over from that.)

✦ When he finally does get to feel your wings under his palms, he’s so enchanted he could implode. This was an opportunity he may never get again, so best believe he’s going to take full advantage of it!

✦ “So this is different from others I’ve seen. Interesting…” he mumbles to himself. “Can I see how sharp your teeth are?” You hum, opening your mouth to bare your fangs and he’s taking and comparing notes in that head of his.

✦ You’re probably a bit too happy to be dealing with something like this. The others wonder if and when your patience for his questions will run out, but they watch as you beam right back at him. (And there he goes, enamored by your fangs again.)

✦ Laios is very determined to make sure your needs are met. Is what you’re eating fitting to your natural diet? Are your wings in need of stretching? Are you able to get enough warmth? It honestly makes you giggle a bit. You’ve never had someone so interested in your wellbeing. It feels nice.

[bladeweaver-if]

Demo Update (21/09/24)

🎶Do you remember

The 21st night of September?🎶

Demo link

Well, at least it's the night here. The update has come!

This one, coming in at ~67,000 words, continues Chapter 2, taking us very close to the end--but not quite. If you play, you'll see why, and perhaps curse me for my tendency for cliffhangers haha.

If I'm right, this is the biggest update so far, and it's taken a whiiiiile. It shouldn't have taken as long as it did, and I'm confident my next updates won't take nearly as long.

Even still, I'm sorry to say this isn't a wholly complete update. There will be sections missing, such as much of Sam's gift-showing path when you visit his home (sorry! I just got too focused on other things and didn't want to half-implement the scenes. Next update, for sure!) and many of the fair events. I hope this at least encourages some replaying when the time comes, as you'll need to do with this update.

Also included are some small tweaks to the prologue (again, I love tweaking. It's a curse) and various grammar/writing tweaks to the rest of the game. Of course, bugs and other errors are liable to appear in the new content, and I'd really appreciate if you could point those out to me, either in DMs or by other means, such as in the Bladeweaver Discord in our bug reporting threads! The discord link is in my intro post, for anybody curious.

I'd also like to give myself a little round of applause for Bladeweaver hitting 20,000 plays on itch! That's 20,000 more plays than I was really hoping for haha.

I normally put a little summary of what you can expect to find in my updates, but have opted to leave that out for this one. You'll probably understand why soon enough.

I hope you enjoy reading. :)

[stayteezdreams]

More Or Less Than Friends

Plot: You and Seungmin aren't quite friends, but you're not not friends. Feelings neither of you are sure about linger under the surface. Everything changes one night when you fall asleep at his apartment.

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Gn!Reader

A/n: Prologue and Continuation of this scenario post. Section involving reader falling asleep in dorm is a slightly edited/extended version of the Scenario post drabble. A/n #2: I haaate how this ended but my brain decided to give up on me when I was almost done lol. I hope you like it anyways!

Requested By: Anon; I also just wanted to write it as well.

Warnings: Nothing I can think of :)

Words: 4,382

You had been Felix's friend for a few years before you met the others. It didn't take long before you became great friends with all of them, often spending time with them.

Well, most of them.

For some reason, unbeknownst to you, you and Seungmin never grew very close.

You could have conversations, and hang out, but never alone. It wasn't on purpose, there was just always someone else there. And it's not like he made you uncomfortable, it was the opposite actually.

You felt comfortable around him, you thought he was funny, cute and kind. He even made jokes with or about you sometimes, and it never felt rude. As if it was a gently way of getting closer to you. Though the distance never seemed to lessen between you.

After some deep thought, you were fairly sure you had a crush on him, or at least you would if you knew more about him. You wanted to be closer to him, but could never find the right moments. The two of you were never alone together, and even if you ended up beside each other, you never gave the other all of your attention. Through nerves or awkwardness you weren't really sure.

You didn't feel as though you had the right to call him a friend, and calling him and acquaintance seemed too cold. So, he was just Seungmin, the guy who had a place in your heart you couldn't quite understand.

Seungmin, though never showing it, felt exactly the same about you.

Ever since you became friends with everyone, he felt drawn to you, but always remained distant. Your presence almost comforted him, and he enjoyed seeing you. But he never showed it, barely even ever acknowledging you other than brief conversation or jokes, and he wasn't sure why.

Was he shy around you? Maybe. Did something about you make him uncomfortable? No, that's not it. He was comfortable around you, more so than he showed. He liked you. But he wasn't sure in what way.

There were times he would purposefully sit beside you, or walk near you, hoping maybe something would naturally bring you together after that. But any time the two of you almost started talking, or getting to know one another, something got in the middle. As if it wasn't meant to be.

Seungmin didn't understand what you were to him, but he wanted to figure it out.

So, he started to pay a bit more attention to you, focusing on the things you mentioned you liked and disliked. The more he did, the more he realized you two had in common. How had he not known you had the same favorite music, and shows, and books? Similar hobbies, or thoughts on the world. With every new fact he learned, the more he realized you were practically the different side of the same coin.

Was this why you never got close, yet were always comfortable around each other? You were akin to one another in more ways than he expected, was this why everyone said opposites attract? The more similar you are the more distance existed between you?

No matter how much Seungmin thought about it, the less it made sense. In his mind, he felt the two of you should be friends, maybe even best-friends, or more, yet you were....nothing? Not friends, not strangers, not even acquaintances really. You were an enigma in his life, that he truly wanted to figure out.

On days like this, what you wanted was to smile and laugh. So, you often made use of your friends for a distraction.

Your legs were heavy with the exhaustion of the day as you walked down the hall towards the boys apartments.

Knocking on Felix's apartment, you waited, but heard no answer. Pouting you pulled out your phone and texted Felix asking if he was home. Leaning against the wall, you let out a soft sigh after a few minutes. Trying the other apartment next door, and also receiving no reply you stood in the hall for a minute wondering what to do. The last thing you wanted was to head back to your own apartment. Your roommate was the last person you wanted to see.

You had no issues with each other, but she was overwhelming, especially on days like today. When nothing seemed to work out or make sense and all you wanted was to relax.

Rummaging through your bag you pulled out the spare key Felix had given you. You hesitated to go in, wondering if it might annoy them. I mean, they all said you could have it, even Seungmin gave a nod of agreement when Felix offered the key. You were at their apartments more often than not anymore anyways.

Sending the group chat a message warning them you were there, you made your way inside. You called out to see if there was indeed no one home. The apartment was silent and you made your way to the couch.

Flipping on the television you laid your head back and stared up at the ceiling. The day running through your mind again, only causing your heart to race with annoyance and stress all over again.

Groaning you looked around the apartment. Why did they all have to be gone today of all days?

Your eyes caught on a blanket on the edge of the couch. You recognized it as Seungmin's. Gently grabbing it and pulling it to you, you found yourself bringing it to your face. It smelled like Seungmin, a scent you had picked up on whenever he walked past, or sat beside you. As your heart fluttered you came back to your senses, looking around the apartment as if you might get caught. Your face was hot as you gently ran your hands over the soft fabric.

Lying down on the couch, and pulling the blanket over you. you stared at the television, not really watching, just zoning out. Having to wake up a few hours early to go to work today, your exhaustion was palpable. Slowly, you began drifting to sleep, forgetting you were trying to wait up for the boys.

When Seungmin came back from practice, the last thing he was expecting when he walked into the apartment was a guest.

His eyes landed on your familiar pair of shoes and he rose his brow in surprise, his heart palpitating. He knew he was the first one home as the others had more things to do at the studio before heading home as well.

You came and went as you please, and though Seungmin sometimes made comments as if it annoyed him, or making fun of the fact you basically live here to the others. He always liked when you were around, especially more so recently as his fondness and desire to know you grew.

Walking into the apartment, his eyes found you immediately. Seungmin seemed to forget how to breath as he saw your slumbering figure on the couch. As he watched you in silence, he was unaware of the fond smile that stretched across his face.

Softly and quietly, Seungmin set his stuff down before walking over to you. Kneeling down in front of the couch he noticed his blanket draped over your legs and his heart skipped a beat. Grabbing it, he gently adjusted the blanket so it covered more of you.

As he stared at you, he wondered why you came to the apartment when it was empty, and he couldn't help but worry something bad had happened. Wondering if the others knew you were here, he pulled out his phone, noticing a few texts to the group chat. Opening it, he saw your messages from almost an hour ago.

He felt guilty that you went unnoticed and received no replies. The way you spoke in the group chat was slightly off, making him assume he was correct. Something did happen.

Looking back at your slumbering face he let out a soft sigh. In moments like this, where Seungmin was looking at you, often when you didn't realize it, he always felt that same sense of regret. He regretted never getting closer to you.

He couldn't even call himself your friend without doubting it. But he desperately wanted to be more than whatever he was to you.

He really did admire you, he liked your presence, and your company. But he didn't acknowledge it enough. And he often wondered now, what things would be like between you if he did.

Would there be a chance to be more?

Seungmin sat on the floor by the couch for a while, keeping you company even if you weren't aware of his presence.

Suddenly hearing the sound of the others at the end of the building hall, Seungmin felt a sense of panic. He didn't want their loud voices and to wake you.

Without really thinking, he found himself scooping you gently into his arms and carrying you to his room.

Setting you down on his bed, you mumbled a bit as you readjusted. He stared at you with wide eyes for a moment before he let out a soft sigh, glad you had not fully woken.

Quickly going back out and grabbing your things from the living room as the others were unlocking the door, he escaped to his room before they entered.

Why was he being so secretive about your presence? They would eventually see your texts and wonder where you were, right? All he had to say is you were sleeping and tell them to be quiet.

Looking at you once more, now cuddling up to one of his pillows, he admitted to himself it was selfish. A selfish need to be the only one to see you like this.

As the apartment quieted down, the others escaping to their rooms, Seungmin gently settled on the bed beside you, sitting up against the headboard as he scrolled on his phone. Every once and a while he would steal a glance at you, checking to see if you were still asleep.

Eventually some of the others replied to your messages, asking when you went home. Seungmin wasn't sure if he should tell them you were asleep in his room or not. Should he just wait? Leaning his head back against the headboard as he thought about it, he fell victim to sleep before he knew it.

When you finally found yourself waking, you were confused to find yourself in a bed. Looking around in confusion, your heart jolted as you saw Seungmin beside you. His head leaned to the side as he slept.

Looking around again, you realized you were in Seungmin's room. You had never been in here before, but it was easy to see it was his, even if he wasn't beside you.

Why would he bring you in here? Had the others come back, was that why? So you didn't get woken up?

Your heart raced at the thoughts passing through your mind. Looking back over at him, you admired his sleeping face as butterflies swirled through your stomach.

Deciding he must be uncomfortable, you gently shook his shoulder, causing him to wake up. As his eyes met yours he sat upright, suddenly nervous. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, nor had he thought far enough ahead to know what to say when you woke up.

"Ah, you're awake."

You nodded as you sat up, "Did you bring me in here?"

Seungmin swallowed nervously as he nodded. "You seemed to be pretty tired and when the others came back I didn't want them to wake you."

You smiled at him and his heart flipped.

"Thank you."

"Did something happen today?"

Your heart skipped at the question. Was it obvious? You bit your lips lightly and nodded as you picked at the blanket still draped over you, "Long day."

He nodded softly, watching you. As you noticed how dark it appeared outside you sat up. "Oh... I should probably go, it looks like its pretty late."

Seungmin realized you were right, you had both slept until after sunset. He shook his head softly, speaking before really thinking.

"Its too late, you should just stay the night."

You stared at him for a second as your heart raced. "Stay...here?" He nodded silently. You added on shyly, "Would that....be okay?"

He nodded again before clearing his throat softly. "I wouldn't feel right letting you go home this late by yourself."

After a moments contemplation, you nodded. "If you're okay with it, I am."

He replied quickly, almost too quickly. "I am."

"Do you want me to sleep on the floor?"

He let out a soft laugh, "No, just stay there. The bed's big enough."

The air was a little tense as the two of you settled back into the bed. You were hyper-aware of how close Seungmin was now, you were back to back, but still close. And as nervous as this made you, you still felt yourself giving into sleep again.

Seungmin's heart was beating unevenly as he lied still beside you. He was filled with a mixture of giddiness, anxiety and disbelief. How had you gone to distant friends of sorts, to sleeping in the same bed?

The silence hung in the air until you both drifted to sleep. Both of you feeling that something had changed between you suddenly. You weren't sure what yet, but you were excited to find out.

As the soft morning light peaked through the windows, you kept your eyes closed as you embraced the comfort around you. Recalling where you were, your heart raced a little as you slowly opened your eyes.

Your heart jolted as you realized you and Seungmin were now facing each other, faces only a few inches apart. His hand was gently gripped your sleeve, as if he wanted to keep you close.

You swallowed nervously as you stared at him. You had the overwhelming desire to trace your fingers along his face as he slumbered peacefully. You took a few minutes to admire him, noticing every mark and spot on his features you hadn't before.

After some time, you realized how it might seem if the others woke up and you were here. That might not be a conversation Seungmin would want to have to deal with. Plus, would things be awkward between you if he woke up and found himself latching onto you?

Slowly, and gently, you pried your sleeve from his grip and climbed out of his bed. As he moved and mumbled a few times you froze, fearing he would wake up and find you practically straddling him as you tried to get out of the bed.

Finally managing to get out of the bed without waking him, you grabbed a sticky note and pen off of is desk and wrote on it, before sticking it to the pillow beside Seungmin.

You didn't want to linger in case things got awkward, but you did want him to know how grateful you were of his kindness. Sparing one more glance at him, your heart fluttered as you grabbed your things and silently left the apartment. As you left, you knew Seungmin was going to occupy your thoughts a lot more now.

Seungmin stretched as he woke up, before he suddenly remembered your presence. His eyes shot open as he looked beside him, seeing just an empty bed. Sitting up, he felt a sense of disappointment at your absence, before his eyes spotted the sticky note.

Picking it up, he read it over a few times, a small smile growing on his face.

'I wasn't sure if I should stay or not, but I didn't want things to be awkward with the others if they saw me here still. Thank you for letting me stay and being so nice to me, after the day I had I appreciated it more than you know. I'll see you later Seungmin. - Y/n'

Looking back to wear you had been laying, he recalled waking in the middle of the night to find you facing him, the moonlight from outside illuminating you in an almost ethereal light. He couldn't stop himself from gently tracing your features with his fingers, barely brushing your skin as not to wake you. He watched you for some time, before eventually falling asleep again.

Lying back down with a sigh, he pulled the blanket you had been using over him, your scent filling his nose as he did. Pulling it closer, he inhaled the scent and felt butterflies in his stomach.

He understood now, he did have feelings for you. You weren't friends, perhaps because the feeling that had gone unnoticed stopped him. But he wanted to be closer to you now, to explore the possiblities of what you could be.

Reading over your note again he decided he would do better, do more to get closer to you.

Before you knew what to say to the others, Felix had texted you asking if you were doing alright. Seungmin had told them that you had fallen asleep at their apartment, and that he let you sleep in his room so you were disturbed by the others.

You could tell he had not told them you stayed the night, or that he had carried you to his room himself. Things you wondered if he kept a secret to spare you from possible teasing, or if he wanted it just between the two of you.

The next time you saw Seungmin was when you were invited over to their place for game-night a few days later. When you arrived, Seungmin answered the door. And instead of his usual soft smile in greeting, he grinned at you, taking your bag from you as you slipped off your shoes.

His behavior towards you was more open and bright, and obvious to not just you, but the others. He asked you if you wanted a drink, before leaving to get you one before you could even answer. You looked over and saw the guys watching in amusement as they looked at you with a questioning gaze.

You shrugged your shoulders, as your heart fluttered, wondering if he really did feel the change between you that night like you had. Maybe you hadn't imagined it at all.

Throughout the night, you and the others were confused, yet intrigued by Seungmin's behavior towards you. He sat beside you, talking to you more often and open than he ever had. He brought you food and offered you a blanket, his blanket, when he thought you might get cold.

When he went to the bathroom Han turned towards you and began interrogating you. "Are you guys dating?"

"What?" You asked startled, "No!"

"I think he wants to though." Hyunjin added with a smirk making you throw a piece of popcorn at him.

Your eyes met Felix's and he smiled brightly before he leaned closer and spoke to you, "I always thought he had a crush on you and now I know he does."

You shush them before you sat back on the couch, ignoring their teasing gazes as Seungmin came back into the room. As he sat beside you, he grabbed the blanket on you and moved to cover himself as well, covered the two of you at the same time, side by side. Your heart jolted as butterflies filled your stomach.

When it came time for you to go home, you felt nervous as Seungmin lingered by the door as you slid on your shoes. You had said goodbye to the others and grabbed your bag. Seeing Seungmin slip on his jacket you rose your brow in question. Was he going out?

He met your eyes. "I'm gonna walk you home." His tone came out as though it was obvious what he was going to do.

"O-oh, okay." You smiled, your chest fluttering anxiously.

The two of you were silent until you walked out of the apartment and made your way down the familiar street you walked dozens of times.

Seungmin inhaled the cool breeze as he walked beside you, his arm almost brushing yours as he kept very little distance between the two of you.

"Thank you for walking me home. You didn't have too, but I appreciate it." You said softly and Seungmin nodded with a smile.

"I don't have too, but I want too." He said softly, his tone almost shy.

Your eyes met for a moment before you both quickly looked away. Silence lingered between you for a few moments as you saw Seungmin steal a few quick glances at you.

Slowly, you started talking, awkward small talk turning into casual comfortable conversation. Your steps slowed as you got closer, absent-mindedly wanting your walk to last as long as you could make it.

When you finally reached your apartment, you turned to Seungmin with a kind smile. "Thanks again for walking me home. Be careful on your way back."

He nodded with a smile, "I will."

As you started to turn and walk away Seungmin quickly spoke up. "Wait!"

Turning back to him he swallowed nervously as he fidgeted. "I was wondering if you were free tomorrow."

Your heart jolted as you bit the inside of your lip and nodded. "I am."

"Its smoothie day." He noted on and you realized what he meant.

Once every other week you and a few of the others would go get smoothies at a shop you all fell in love with a couple years ago.

Seungmin rarely went, so it was a pleasant surprise he was going this time. But underneath that, there was a mild disappointment. For a moment, you thought he may be asking you on a date.

You felt a soft disappointment in your chest as you nodded, "Right! I almost forgot" You chuckled softly. "I'll be there."

He nodded "Good." As he took a a few steps back, he motioned for you to head inside as he smiled, "Goodnight."

You smiled and waved softly in return, "Goodnight Seungmin."

As you headed inside, you felt an odd mixture of emotion. Excitement, bewilderment, bashfulness, all of it making you finally truly acknowledge something you had only allowed yourself momentary thoughts of. You definitely, had feelings for Seungmin.

You hoped the others wouldn't notice or point out how you seemed to dress up a little bit more today. You accepted your feelings for Seungmin had grown, though you weren't sure what to do about it.

Though his changed behavior towards you made you think he felt the same, you still feared maybe he had just finally accepted you as a friend. So you didn't want to get your hopes up too much.

As you approached the familiar smoothie spot, your phone buzzed. Reading the message from Felix you furrowed your brow in confusion.

'Enjoy your smoothies ;)'

'Okay, so Felix isn't coming, but what's with the winky face?' You wondered as you headed inside.

Looking around, your heart fluttered as you spotted Seungmin waiting nearby at a table. Looking around more, you saw none of the others, and suddenly realized what Felix's text meant. Did they all stand you up so you'd be alone together?

Swallowing nervously you walked over to him, your stomach filling with butterflies.

Looking up, Seungmin smiled before standing up quickly and pulling a chair out for you.

You smiled in thanks as you sat down. "No one else is coming?" You asked casually, trying not to show your nervousness.

Seungmin sat down and shook his head, appearing a bit nervous as well. "I actually asked them not to come."

"Oh?" Your heart jolted as your eyes widened a bit.

He met your eyes and smiled softly, obviously nervous now. "I kind of hoped we could make this a date...if you're okay with that."

You were silent for a brief moment as you processed what he said. unable to resist smiling you nodded, "I'm okay with it."

Seungmin studied you for a second before he grinned, relief washing over him. "Good. I- I really wanted to get closer to you, I mean I have for a while, but since...since that night you fell asleep at the apartment, I uh- I feel like..." He struggled to get out what he wanted to say as he let out a soft breath.

"Something changed?"

He met your eyes, a bit startled that you understood what he was trying to say. He nodded mutely and you smiled, "I felt it too."

You smiled softly at each other for a moment before you let out a soft chuckle. "It's kind of weird right?"

He chucked as he ran his hands nervously over his legs and nodded. "Yeah. I've never really knew where we stood."

You nodded, "Right? I wasn't sure if we were friends or what, but..."

"But?"

You tried to search for the right words, "But, I always felt comfortable around you, and wanted to be friends we just never seemed to get there."

He nodded in agreement. "That's how I felt too."

You both chuckled as you both understood you had more in common than you thought.

Seungmin started, slowly. "I think... I've been attracted to you since we met. I just didn't recognize it completely. And that stopped me from really getting closer to you even though I wanted too. But that night, I finally realized just how much I want to be around you."

Your heart was pounding as he spoke, your neck and face warm. "So now, we're...what?"

He thought for a second before chuckled, "I don't really know how to label it."

You resisted giggling as you hummed, "We don't have to label anything yet, but I do like where we are headed."

He nodded slowly, "Me too."

Slowly moving his chair closer to you, he cautiously moved his hands to intertwine with yours.

"So how about we start here? We are more or less than friends, with intentions to be more."

Your eyes moved from your intertwined hands to his eyes as you smiled brightly. "How poetic." You giggled, "I like it."

He squeezed your hand softly as he grinned at you, finally relieved knowing where he wanted to go with you, and how to start.

xx End xx

General Taglist:

@otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson,

@pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop, @shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie @LuckyPainterTyphoon (cannot tag; have you confirmed your email yet?)

Stray Kids Taglist:

 @laylasbunbunny, @skz1-4-3, @prettymiye0n, @thunderous-wolf, @thedistractedwriter,

@briqnne, @dinossaurz, @staytiny2000, @msauthor, @vnessalau,

@dancinglikebutterflywings, @3rachasninja

Seungmin Taglist:

@hongjoongsprincess

-Taglist Form-

[coconut-dreamz]

delicate

"is it chill that you're in my head?" || tom blyth x famous! reader

a/n: it's my first time writing for tom blyth and i've been obsessed with him and taylor swift songs lately so i wrote this! i hope you enjoy ! slightly angsty, ambiguous relationship between reader and tom

my reputation's never been worse

so you must like me for me

ever since the news came out that you and your a-list celeb ex broke up, negative comments filled your comment sections. all you wanted to do was turn them off, but your pr team was vehemently against it. they wanted it to seem like you didn't care about the criticisms, you didn't, but it was getting out of hand now. 

there were rumors on those stupid gossip sites that you had cheated on him and that it was what caused the downfall of you two. that couldn't be further from the truth, but he and his pr team decided to not comment on it and therefore your management team decided that it would look like you were just trying to cover your ass by denying the accusations. 

but, just when you were in the deep of it, you met tom. he didn't care about what people were saying about you. you had met at a mutual friend's new years party. he hadn't even heard about the rumors about you until you mentioned it. he was a breath of fresh air. 

dive bar on the east side, where you at?

phone lights up my nightstand in the black

you had moved to new york recently to escape the toxicity that plagued your every move in la. you didn't have many friends there, all of them left behind in la. tom had taken it upon himself to show you the best spots in town. 

you were wallowing in self pity, watching dumb rom-coms on a random tuesday evening when your phone lights up on your nightstand. you pause your film and move to pick up the phone. it was tom, asking if you were busy. you quickly reply with a no. he invites you out to a nearby dive bar with him and some of his friends. 

you were hesitant at first, feeling comfortable in your bed. but, tom managed to convince you to  come out. you quickly throw on a pair of jeans and a nice shirt, hailing a cab and heading to the bar in question.

the moment you walk into the bar, tom shouts your name, waving you over to him and his group of friends. "i'm so glad you could make it! this is rachel and josh, they're my costars for my most recent project." 

is it cool that i said all that?

is it chill that you're in my head?

you laugh at tom's ridiculous dancing, you were on facetime as he was on set for tbosas and you were still back in new york. you keep laughing at his antics, shouting out "oh my god, i love you!" you immediately throw your hands over your mouth, eyes widened. did you seriously just say that? "oh my god! you didn't just hear that!" you shout at tom, your face flushed a bright red. you immediately hung up, too embarrassed to face his reaction yet. 

you couldn't lie, tom was always on your mind. you didn't want to admit it, but you were falling for the brit. your thoughts constantly led to him. you could be thinking about tuna and you would somehow end up on tom. 

your phone starting ringing, shortly after you hung up. it was tom. you realized you had to face him either way and answered the call. "i love you too," he admits once the call connects. any shred of embarrassment left your body hearing that. a smile graced your face and a newfound warmth filled your body.

third floor on the west side , me and you

handsome you're a mansion with a view

do the girls back home touch you like i do?

you had originally gotten a rinky dinky apartment when you first moved out here, not expecting to stay long. but the new friends you made helped you fall in love with new york. so, you decided to get a new apartment. this time, on the upper west side. tom was kind enough to help you move from your first apartment to the new one.

after a long day of rearranging the new furniture you had gotten, you and tom were laying on the floor of your living room. he sat up and stared out the window of your new apartment, the view was a lot better compared to your previous one, which was just a brick wall. as he admired the city lights, you admired him. 

you move to hug his back as the two of you enjoy the view of the city below you. the two of you didn't have a label. sure, you told each other that you loved each other, went on dates and even double dates, but you had never called him your boyfriend and you, his girlfriend. you wondered what was stopping either of you from taking the next step and making it official.

was he this way with the girls back home? were you different from the british girls from his past? thoughts of self doubt plagued your mind. "what's on your mind, beautiful?" tom's voice breaks you out of your reverie. "huh? oh, nothing." you try to avoid the reality. "don't lie, i can tell something's bothering you." 

you sigh, taking a breath, "do the girls back home touch you like i do?" you ask him. he's confused at first, "my home's here, with you." and those five little words were able to dispel all your thoughts of self doubt and insecurities. you simply kiss him in content at his words of reassurance. 

it didn't matter if you two didn't have a label yet, you were his home, and he was yours.

long night with your hands up in my hair

echoes of your footsteps on the stairs

stay here, honey, i don't wanna share

after a long night of bar hopping, you two stumble into your apartment. too tired to even take off your street clothes, you both collapse on the bed, quickly falling asleep. it's around 6 am you stir awake. you can hear tom walking up the stairs to your room. "are you leaving?" you ask as he enters the bedroom. "yeah, i have a shoot in a couple hours." he searches around for his missing sock. 

you frown, hearing this. "come back, just for a few minutes." you plead. you weren't ready to let him go yet. to share him with the rest of the world. right now he was just yours, and you wanted it to stay that way. "fine, but only for a little," he agrees, abandoning his search for his missing sock. and instead climbs back in bed into your open arms.

sometimes i wonder, when you sleep

are you ever dreaming of me?

it was another night where tom slept over in your apartment after a night out on the town. you couldn't fall asleep, instead staring at tom's peaceful face as he slept. he had a small smile on his face as he slept. you wonder what he's dreaming about. you hope that it's you and if it wasn't, you didn't want to know. you snuggle in closer to his warm body and decide to try to fall alseep.

sometimes when i look into your eyes

i pretend you're mine all the damn time

you were at your friend's new years party, it had been a whole year since you had met tom. the two of you were dancing wildly to the music playing, tipsy off the champagne. as you stared up into his eyes, you envisioned a future together where you didn't have to question your relationship status with him. 

[joeyfranchise]

conversation hearts

part two: b mine?

uo!justin herbert x uo!reader

summary: despite the threat of him academically, you find yourself slowly realizing that justin might not actually be that bad… maybe you like him after all.

warnings: fluffy, sweet. slow burn!! minors still please dni!

word count: 1.5k.

note: it’s so hard for me to write slow burn but i’m trying my best for my boo @joeyburrrow :) lol i hope anyone who reads this miniseries enjoys it and as always ily all 🫶🏻

[pt. 1]

this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

you had planned to go to justin’s place to work on your project, nothing more and nothing less… but you hadn’t expected to find yourself being taken captive by the twinkle in his eye. you weren’t expecting to be giggling at any of his cheesy jokes. as you sat at the coffee shop again and waited for the girls to show up so you could debrief, you replayed the previous evening in your mind. 

—

justin’s dorm was surprisingly neat and clean. you were a bit of a neat freak yourself, but you hadn’t expected an area shared between two college athletes to be so… tidy. 

you arrived promptly at six and he was waiting eagerly at the door for you. justin stepped aside and held out an arm to “welcome you to his humble abode.” 

there wasn’t a large amount of room for the two of you to work in, but he led you to his desk and you sat your things down next to his before looking around to find a seat. 

“you can take the chair, i’ll sit on my bed,” he gestured, pulling it out for you. you sat down hesitantly and scooted yourself closer to the desk as justin sat gingerly upon his navy blue bedspread. a pregnant silence filled the room as he opened his laptop, placing it next to yours on the desk. 

his screen was already open on the powerpoint, and he already created a title page. you grabbed his laptop and slid it closer to you, clicking the screen and editing the first slide. 

“did i spell your name wrong?” he asked, a puzzled look painted across his features. “nope,” you replied, popping the ‘p’. “just wanted my name to be first.” 

he laughed, a genuine hearty chuckle, and pulled his computer back toward himself before calling you a diva. you hated how badly you wanted to laugh at his teasing. “i finished all my sections and i already have the information ready to go for the slides. what about you?” he questioned, glancing over in your direction. 

“i finished mine too. if you want to go ahead and type yours up we can review it, and then we can do the same with mine?” 

he only nodded in response, his nimble fingers working away on the keys. it didn’t take him long to finish keying in his information, and everything you looked over sounded perfect, much to your chagrin. as selfish as it sounded, you’d hoped just one thing would be wrong so you could correct him and assert some sort of academic dominance over him. but he was perfect, his work proved that time after time, and it continued to eat away at you. 

justin slid his computer back to you and watched silently as you entered your portion of the information. his eyes scanned the screen as you answered everything perfectly, something he noticed that seemed so effortless about you. he was amazed and often jealous of how things came to you so naturally, he wished that he could be the same way. 

studying as hard as he did brought him many rewards, but he always wished he was naturally smart, that he could be like you and retain information easily. he was too afraid to tell you that though, and deep down a part of him secretly liked that you viewed him as competition. when you were finished typing you looked up, noticing his gaze lingering on you. you couldn’t hide the blush that crept up the back of your neck and spread across your cheeks, and justin couldn’t help but blush too. 

“i read over your shoulder when you were typing, everything looks perfect,” he said, reaching across to rest a hand on your shoulder. you weren’t sure why he did it, but a swarm of butterflies sprouted in your stomach at his touch. you played it cool, throwing your hair over your shoulder in an attempt to be sassy. “not surprised,” you smirked, and justin laughed once again. “can’t help that i’m perfect, wish i could say the same about you,” you added. 

he grabbed his chest dramatically before falling back onto his bed, feigning shock before he spoke again. “you wound me,” he teased, and an easy laugh fell from your lips. 

simultaneously, you hated and loved this moment. his geeky yet funny personality mirrored yours, but you also despised how he was making you feel, like a school-girl crush was forming for him in the very pit of your stomach. it was as if you could go home and write his name all over your notebooks and surround it with hearts in glittery pink gel pen. 

you turned your focus back to the assignment and justin sat back up quickly. “so do i just submit the powerpoint to her? or are we presenting in class as well?” you asked him, unsure of what to do next. 

“we have to submit and present. i think we’ll be okay, though. she likes both of us,” he reassured you. you hated speaking in front of others, even if you were a self-proclaimed expert on the subject matter. “alright, i’ll go ahead and send it in,” you said, clicking on the other open tab on his screen, which was his student portal. you got the file transferred over while justin stood and walked over to the tiny fridge that sat on a table in the corner. 

“do you want anything to drink?” he offered and you politely declined. “i’m okay! thank you. i think everything is fully submitted now.” 

justin walked toward a door on the opposite side of the room and twisted the handle before pushing it open. “okay, cool. let me use the bathroom right quick and i’ll walk you out.”

as he was in there you gathered your things, your heart beating rapidly against your chest. you felt flustered… you weren’t supposed to like him, but he was so sweet and charming. 

your fingers brushed over the tiny box of candy hearts as you placed your laptop in your bag, and an idea popped into your head, but you’d have to execute it quickly. you dumped the candy into your hands as you heard him turn on the faucet, and you quickly sorted through them to find all the little pieces that had the number “10” stamped on the front. it was his jersey number, and it was about as flirtatious as you could get with him without vomiting all over yourself. you placed them on his desk as gently as you could without making too much noise, then you shoved the rest of the candy back in the box and into your bag as he stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hands on his pants. 

“you didn’t listen to me pee, did you? cuz that’s gross,” he joked raising an eyebrow at you. “hell no,” you laugh, throwing your tote on your shoulder. “that’s disgusting… and i usually don’t kinkshame, but fuck that.” you both laughed heartily as he opened the door and walked down the hall with you. you noticed it was raining as you stepped outside, and you didn’t bring a jacket, so you’d have to book it to your car. justin looked up at the sky and back down at you before noticing you weren’t wearing a jacket. as if it was second nature, he shucked his hoodie off and handed it to you, extending an arm to take your bag so you could pull it over your head. 

“justin, this isn’t necessary, really. i’ll be okay,” you said, trying to give the hoodie back. “i don’t want you to get cold, please take it. you can give it back in class, or bring it back here.” 

you relented, handing him your bag and pulling the hoodie on. “thank you,” you muttered softly as you pulled it over your head and took the bag back. “i’ll see you in class!” you said, turning on your heel and walking off towards your car. the butterflies were still present, still causing commotion in your belly. justin walked back inside and into his dorm, a soft smile spreading across his face as he saw what you left on the table. 

—

you tapped your fingers against your cup nervously before you spotted alice entering the coffee shop, followed by clara. they sat down across from you and eyed you nervously. laura stumbled in a few minutes after. you hadn’t seen her since yesterday’s meet-up here, so even she didn’t know about what happened at justin’s. 

“babe, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” alice admitted, reaching across the table for your hand. “tell us everything about what happened!” 

before you could start laura interrupted, a smirk playing across her lips. 

“before you do, though… i was in our dorm a bit ago and there was a knock at the door, i thought maybe you’d doordashed or instacarted something,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “it was from target and… well…” she reached into her bag and pulled something out before handing it to you. 

your mouth fell open as you took the glass from her, holding it in your hands softly. a conversation heart shaped candle, freesia and lily scented. you looked at all the girls at the table as they giggled, and you sighed. you were fucked. 

photos and dividers not mine. cred to owners.

taglist: @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989 @slimshiesty @fourburrow @wheresdylansoscar @heartforherbert @joe9cool @itsjustjackie55 @emsdevs @a-whiterose

[d1xonss]

Okay so, lately, I have been obssesed with young Daryl. Would you like writing a super fluffy fic where reader teaches Daryl about skincare and at the begining he's like 'why the hell are you putting that in your face?' but then at the end he is helping her in the most delicate manner posible. Like the look of love of this man while taking care of you... he just makes me faint.

Hope you like the idea and keep writing because you are so good! x

Potions

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Pre-apocalypse

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 1.8k

AN ~ Yess I love this idea! Thank you so much for requesting it and thank you for all the love on my last oneshot as a whole. I didn’t think a lot of people would like it as much as they did, but all the feedback was so sweet! Again, I tried my best with this one and hopefully I could capture what you envisioned. Hope you enjoy!

Cleanser, moisturizer, serum, and sunscreen. Those were just the few of many steps when it came to your skincare routine that you had grown accustomed to.

Your skin was something that you were quite proud of, the years of taking care of it diligently were really paying off as it was always smooth and had some kind of a natural glow. You would get compliments here and there and questions about how you always kept your face looking so young and beautiful. And you of course would always give out any advice, products, or tips to others who asked because in all honesty it was just a simple routine.

The light in the bathroom flickered on as you reached your hand out to flip the switch, standing in front of the mirror and pulling your hair back to finally get settled in for the night after what felt like an impossibly long day. Your eyes glanced up to see your face a little more upclose, subconsciously grabbing the makeup remover first to clean all of it off your features.

It wasn’t that often you wore makeup but when you did it was always just something simple. Mascara, blush, filling in your eyebrows. But what really was your favorite part was wearing some type of lipstick or lip gloss on your perfectly plump lips. Your only reason as to why it was your favorite was so at some point in the day, you could pull your boyfriend in for a kiss on the cheek, only to pull back and see the residue of your lips. He however would groan and playfully shoo you away as he wiped his cheek to see whatever color you had on staining his palm. But the small smile playing on his own lips would tell you that he secretly loved it.

You reached up towards your eye to gently remove the mascara from your eyelashes, before discarding the cotton pad in the trashcan below. Then copying the same actions to your eyebrows, you removed any pencil that was left before throwing that cotton away as well. You then briefly rinsed your face with water, before pulling out your drawer full of products to use in a specific order.

The cleanser was always first since your face had to be a little wet, applying it gently all over your skin before leaning back down and rinsing it off completely. Toner came after, dabbing a little product in another cotton pad before dragging it over your face and neck to make sure you didn’t miss any lingering dirt that could still be there. Then it was serum, dripping a little from the dropper over different sections before lightly dragging it out until everything felt even.

It was always this part where you felt your face was especially shiny and glowing, taking a second to look at it glistening in the dim light. Until your eyes lingered to some movement just behind you, seeing Daryl’s figure standing in the doorway as he watched you intently.

You gasped a little at his sudden presence as you weren’t expecting him to be there, laughing a little to yourself as you placed a hand over your heart and turned to face him now. “Jesus,” you breathed, “You scared me half to death.”

His face turned a bit sheepish as that was never his intention, he just simply wanted to watch whatever girly thing you were doing before heading to bed, “Sorry.” he said as he slowly passed through the threshold.

“It’s okay. Just give me a few more minutes and I’ll be done.” you said before turning to face the mirror again.

You half expected him to leave and just wait for you in your shared bedroom, but he didn’t. He placed himself right next to you as his eyes moved towards the mirror as well, but only to watch your movements as you attempted to put on eye cream. He squinted a little as he watched you, thinking silently to himself for what felt like a long while.

As a guy, he never really understood things like this, though he went along with it because it clearly made you happy. But tonight apparently he was full of questions, wanting you to tell him everything about your little potions that sat out on the bathroom counter.

“The hell you puttin on yer face?”

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to just blurt, but he couldn’t help it as genuine confusion filled him seeing as you didn’t need anything like this to be “beautiful.” He always thought you were perfect.

Though you laughed at his bluntness, rubbing in the cream under your eyes as you looked at his face in the mirror, “It’s my skincare routine.” you said simply.

His brows remained furrowed as he was still left in the dark. “I’ve been doing it since before we even got together, Daryl.” you said as your eyes moved to look at your own features.

He hummed a little, more to himself as he thought back to if he had ever seen you do this before like you claimed. Had he really been that dense about it?

“Well, uh…what’re they supposed to do?” he asked.

You smiled as your eyes locked with his again, “They just help keep your skin healthy and clean.” you said as you reached for your moisturizer, your final step, “Why? You wanna try?” you asked playfully.

He scoffed and shook his head as he leaned down a bit on the counter, continuing to watch you with his head in his hands, “Nah, watchin you do it is enough for me.”

You rolled your eyes a bit, though you didn’t push further as you finished rubbing the cream into your cheeks. Though silently you wished Daryl would do something for his skin, you believed that everyone should. The sun was your biggest concern for him. Although you loved his little sunspots all over his face and the slight redness he would sometimes get on his cheeks and nose, you wished he at least wore sunscreen if anything at all. But it was no secret the man was stubborn, but maybe, just maybe, you would be able to convince him.

“Okay,” you said as you finally finished and began putting the products away, “I’ll make you a deal. You don’t have to do face masks with me anymore, if you promise to put on some sunscreen everyday before work.” you wagered.

You watched as his eyes narrowed at you playfully, thinking about his options in his head before finally sighing in defeat and standing back up to his full height, “Alright, fine.” he agreed.

“Yay!” you silently cheered as you leaned forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him further into you.

He smiled to himself as he hugged your waist tight, resting his chin on your shoulder. If you asked him, he didn’t need anything to keep his skin “healthy” because he didn’t necessarily care about any of that quite like you did. But he would do just about anything for you, anything to make you happy, and anything to even catch a glimpse of your smile.

Which is why he reluctantly pulled away with a quiet groan, “And I’ll…still do facemasks with ya anyway.” he said almost regrettably.

Your mouth dropped in surprise, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he huffed with a small returning smile, “As long as they make me pretty after, I guess they’re alright.”

You tilted your head a bit to the side as your hand came up to trail your thumb against his cheekbone, “But you’re already pretty.”

“...Not as pretty as you, sweet girl.” he corrected, coming in close to place a kiss on your cheek.

But your hand coming up quickly to stop him is what caused him to be slightly taken aback, “Wait, wait,” you giggled as you kept his face away from yours, “I just finished my skincare, have you learned nothing?” you playfully asked him, “Besides the moisturizer will get on your lips, I don’t think you wanna kiss me there.”

He sighed in faux annoyance as his eyes traveled down a bit, “Well, can I kiss ya here?” he asked as you felt his thumb come up to run along your bottom lip gently.

You smiled with a small nod, “Yes.”

He smirked before finally closing the distance between you two, his lips overlapping yours in a sweet kiss as his hands ran up and down your back slowly. You hummed into his mouth as his lips felt heavenly against your own, feeling him pull away to place one more peck on your parted mouth before fully stepping back.

“Alright, come on now, we gotta get ya to bed for yer beauty sleep.” he teased as he suddenly bent down and grabbed you by your legs, swinging your upper half over his shoulder as he carried you out of the bathroom.

“Daryl!” you cried as you laughed at his sudden fast actions, hearing him let out a chuckle himself as he carried you all the way up the stairs while swaying you back and forth playfully.

After that night Daryl fulfilled his promise, letting you put sunscreen over his cheeks and nose right before he headed off to work each morning to ease your mind. And he still occasionally allowed you to put a face mask on him, seeing how much it brought you joy to have someone to do it with. But also he had to admit, it made his face feel a little softer afterwards.

The only thing that changed in your routine since that night is that Daryl would now always follow you into the bathroom when it was time to put on all your “potions” as he called them. Except he wasn’t the one watching you do all the work, but instead, he applied everything for you. He insisted on it in fact. He always wanted to take care of you and this was no different, in fact he thought it was fun.

It was also fun for you as well as you agreed to his request, sitting yourself up on the counter as he applied everything like you usually would. You had to walk him through the steps the first few times, but after that he was a natural. He was always so delicate as his slightly rough fingertips glided effortlessly across your skin. Your favorite part however, was opening your eyes occasionally to watch his face as it was full of concentration, seeing his tongue slip out a little at times as he focused. You thought it was absolutely adorable.

And every time he was done, without fail, he would always look at you so lovingly it nearly made you melt into a puddle. His eyes so clearly held so much love for you, you found yourself thinking how you had the best man in the entire world. Though you always wanted to know what he was thinking when he stared at you like this, finally one night opening your mouth to ask.

“What?” you voiced a bit playfully as your head tilted to the side.

He shrugged his shoulders as his eyes remained the same, “Nothin…just so beautiful.” he practically whispered.

Your lips stretched into a bashful smile as you couldn’t help but blush. Yeah, best man in the entire world.

~ Thanks for reading!

[xxetherealsweetheartxx]

MK Characters with a breeding kink

Might make a part two (you can write in the comments who else could have this kink) MDNI (Breeding, Pregnancy kink (?), Degradation, Somnophilia)

Liu Kang ❤️🔥

Look at him. This man would definitely want to have kids, even if he's a god with little time on his hand. He feels dirty whenever he looks at you and the only thing on his mind, is fucking his cum into you. But he can't help it whenever he sees his lover. He enjoys putting his forehead on yours as he's in missionary. Something about this gesture feels so soft and intimate. Sex is impossible for him if there isn't a loving gesture. He hopes to get you pregnant, he just wants to see you carrying his child. "Dear, you're doing so good for me…” He would whisper into your ear while slowly and softly fucking into you. “Such a beauty…”

Bi-Han 💙❄️

Bi-Han is mean. He almost sees you as his personal fleshlight. Just a hole for him to fuck. He doesn't care how worried you are about getting pregnant, he's coming inside. You can't even talk with how hard he's fucking into your already abused hole, how puffy it has gotten from the overstimulation. But even with how sensitive your poor cunt is, it can't stop pulling him in. And whenever you whine and tell him to stop, he just comes with a "Is that so? Because I can feel your pussy milking my cock." He's expecting you to give him a heir. Bi-Han trust you enough to do the job and give him a son. Everytime you guys fuck, he makes sure to cum multiple times inside your cunt. He has to make sure you're completely stuffed with his potent semen.

Kuai Liang 💛🦂

Man has insane baby fever. Whenever he's in a store, he'd stare like five minutes straight at the baby section. He just finds the clothes adorable and hopes to get you pregnant, so he can buy these clothes for his baby. Oftentimes he would ask to start a family and get sad, whenever you felt you weren't ready (idk how, I'd immediately jump on his bones). But whenever you guys have sex, he can't help but think about breeding you. He has this need to fuck his cum deep inside you. He also enjoys after cumming inside you and then watching all his cum oozing out of your poor abused cunt. “You did so good… good night, honey” he says softly while wrapping his strong arms around your body. Please let him breed you, he'd be a great dad trust me

Fujin 🩵🌪️

RAAAA FUJIN. That one interaction between him and Sonya

Fujin: You must like having a daughter

Sonya: Still getting used to the whole idea

Fujin: It is a joy I will never know

But after meeting you, he wants to try and make this reality. You both fell in love and Fujin brought it up one time. When you agree that you are ready to start a family, he gets ecstatic, as well as a feeling in his lower stomach. He was laying on the bed, his long white hair free from the braid. You were riding him, hands gripping his shoulder. Obviously he would never hurt you, but he can't help accidentally leaving little crescent shaped marks on your hips. "My Love... You are so so.. beautiful" He pants out while he fills you up with his cum for the third time. "My Dear... So good just for me..." Fujin groans out. 

Syzoth 💚🦎

The thing with Syzoth is that he isn’t human and that he experiences a breeding season. You’d notice how much bigger he’d make himself whenever there are other men near you. He gets more clingy, you can forget privacy, with him following you everywhere. You’d ask what’s wrong and he’d denied it, as if whatever it was, was shameful to admit. You dropped it. But you can’t ignore these weird changes getting stronger each day. Until one night you woke up when you felt something rubbing against your ass. When you turned to look, you gasped a bit. There was Syzoth, dry humping you, eyes closed and he was biting his lips to keep quiet. “Syzoth..?” You mumble, not even fully conscious. Suddenly his eyes snap open and he looks at you. His eyes looked different, it held a lot more emotion in them. Suddenly he pushes your head back into the pillow. A small yelp escapes your mouth, but Syzoth was already on you. He’s tearing down your pants and without warning pushes his whole length inside you. It stretched you and you can only bury your face in the pillow, as he fucks with no remorse. “Mate… need to breed mate…” he whispers. Then he leaned down, his bare chest touching your back, as he kissed your ear. “I’m… so.. sorry.. Fuck!” He hisses out the last part. You can only moan as he uses your body for the rest of the night.

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Halloooo angel - For requests I was wondering if you could write crew!reader who has an anxiety attack in the green room where the band is. They’re at the venue, and she spots her ex in the crowd. All the boys happen to be there and doing whatever they can think of to try and help calm her down. You know, Jolly being a dad, both the Nicks being soft lil beans, Noah going from “should we kick him out” to “he’s a fan of the band? how mad would he be if he thought you were dating the lead singer?” and poking the bear

Hey! Thank You for the request! This was an interesting one to sit down and write! It took a little longer than I expected! I hope you like it!

Any and all feedback is appreciated! Enjoy!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Check out my other writing here: MASTERLIST

Little White Lies

Y/N rushed down the hallway backstage frantically trying to follow the signs that Matt had hung that morning directing where the various rooms were located inside tonight's venue. She mentally begged her legs to move faster as she began to feel the familiar tightness in her chest take over.

She had been the bass tech for Bad Omens for a little over two years at this point. Meaning she was charged with making sure everything with Nicholas’ collection of instruments were cared for and ready to go the second he needed to walk on stage. She had just finished up her final pre-show check when she decided to take a quick peek at the house before the support band started their set. 

As she scanned the crowd she felt like the oxygen was sucked from her lungs when her eyes fell on a familiar face standing amongst the other guests in the VIP section. 

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. She mentally cursed. How is he here? Why is he here? 

Jared, her ex-boyfriend, was at a Bad Omens show and standing next to him was the same girl that Y/N found him in bed with on the day she came home from tour the year prior. Almost four years of her life had been wasted on this asshole that, come to find out, had been cheating on her for over a year and a half. 

He then had the audacity to try and gaslight and manipulate her into thinking that the cheating was somehow all her fault because she was gone on tour all the time. She wishes she could say it hadn’t worked, but it did and at her lowest point she had considered giving up on her dream job entirely. The mental and emotional manipulation affected her for a long time after the breakup. She had felt like her entire world was crumbling around her and thankfully her touring family stepped up to rally around her when she needed it most. 

Alana and the boys helped her move out of the house she and Jared had shared and Matt even flew in from Texas to help Noah, Jesse, and Jolly get her set up in a house that was for rent only a few doors down the street from their own. She cut off all contact with Jared and hadn’t seen him since the day he dared to show his face while they were packing the last of her things.

He promised to keep his distance while she moved out but then showed up anyway and stirred shit up with the boys. Which resulted in Alana and Noah having to physically hold Jolly back and keep him from trying to take a swing at Jared’s smug face before he finally walked out of the door and out of Y/N’s life for good. Or so she thought. 

When she found the door labeled “Bad Omens Dressing Room” she quickly slipped inside and nearly collapsed onto the couch. All commotion in the room ground to a halt as the boys looked at the panicked expression etched across their friend’s face as she struggled to control her breathing. Nicholas quickly recognized what was happening and crossed the room, kneeled on the floor in front of her and grabbed her hands within his own. 

“Hey…Hey, Y/N…look at me.” He said with a soft yet firm voice and Y/N looked up, connecting Y/E/C eyes with the familiar bright hue of her friend’s.

“There we go. I need you to try and take a deep breath and tell me five things you can see,” he said, “can you do that for me?” 

She nodded, taking a shaky breath, before listing out things she saw scattered around the green room. 

Jolly’s guitar. A case of water. A ski mask. Folio’s drum pad. Noah’s laptop. 

“Good. Good,” Nicholas responded. “Now four things you can feel.”

She took another breath. Each one feeling slightly more steady than the last. 

Nicholas’ hands. Her AAA crew card on the lanyard around her neck. The cold water bottle Folio had pressed to the back of her neck. The radio attached to her hip that looped across the back of her shoulders. 

“Good,” he continued. “Three things you can hear.”

The music from the bluetooth speaker on the table. The support band playing their set. Matt’s voice on the crew radio. 

“Two things you can smell.”

Cigarettes and Cologne. 

“One thing you can taste” 

Spearmint toothpaste. 

“Better?” He asked. She replied with a nod.

“What happened?” he inquired. “You haven’t had a panic attack like that in a while.” 

She proceeded to tell them about her spotting Jared in the crowd, who he was with, and the section where he was standing. 

They were not only pissed off about him daring to show his face at one of their shows. They were trying to figure out why he was even here to begin with. He never showed any interest in the band or attending one of their shows while he and Y/N were together. So why now was he suddenly a Bad Omens fan?

Jolly being Jolly wanted to tell Ash to have security kick him out of the venue, VIP or no VIP, and Noah initially agreed with him until a new idea came to mind. 

“Wait, he’s VIP. Which means he’ll probably be at that weird meet and greet thing the venue wants us to do after the show…” He stated. “Why don’t we have some fun with this asshole?”

“I don’t know Noah, I don’t think he’s worth all this.” Y/N said. Not wanting the guys to waste their time or energy on Jared of all people. 

“Oh no no no, this piece of shit has the audacity to show up at one of our shows after what he did to you?” Noah replied. “We’re going to at least make him squirm in the process.” 

“Okay, so, what’s your plan then?” Y/n questioned with a defeated sigh.  

He paused. Pondering. 

“How pissed do you think he’d be if he thought you were dating one of us now?” Noah suggested. A humorous glint in his eye. 

“Oh, he’d probably be furious.” She replied nonchalantly, before also pausing, a grin started to form on her face. “Say more…”

Noah continued and explained the rest of his master plan and how to execute it. 

Y/N was intrigued and a little worried about whether she would be able to pull it off or not. Noah was one of her best friends and someone she definitely felt very comfortable around so he was the natural choice in being her fake boyfriend. 

After the show Y/N started her regular post show duties breaking down her work space and packing up the bases, guitars, pedals, along with all the miscellaneous pieces and parts into their respective road cases for the rest of the crew to load onto one of the massive trailers the band now used. She had just gotten that done and the cases rolled out to the loading dock, when she heard Noah call her name and motion for her to join him. 

As she made her way toward him, she acted oblivious to the fact that Jared and his friend were standing at the back of the small group of people waiting to talk to the band. But judging by the burning stare she felt hitting her back, he definitely noticed her. 

Noah held out his arm toward her after they bid the most recent person goodbye. While the guys chatted with the next person, he pulled her into his side and planted a tender kiss on her temple. 

He leaned his mouth toward her ear and whispered, “They looking at us?” 

“Yep” she said with a nod, faking a giggle at a non-existent joke, before looking up at him with a grin. 

His brown eyes glowed, even in his tired state, as he stared down at her. They stood there for a few beats, just staring at each other, smiling like idiots before Noah started tickling her side. She quickly tried to squirm away but he pulled her even closer.  

“I think that should do it.” He said, pulling her into a full hug before placing one final kiss on her forehead, “We can handle the rest, go do what you need to do for load out.” 

He gave her one more quick squeeze before she slipped out of his arms and walked back toward the stage to help the guys finish packing up. Smile still plastered on her face. 

Noah turned to the next group of people to meet the band, but not without catching a glimpse of Jared standing at the back. Anger building in his expression, his little friend standing there completely oblivious. 

When the fan they were chatting with turned their attention more toward one of the other band members. Noah took the opportunity to make eye contact with Jared who was fuming. The expression on Noah’s face grew more serious as he held their stare. It said, I remember you, I remember what you did, and you will never come near her again. Almost daring him to try something. His face sent a very clear message to the unwanted VIP. 

She’s mine, Bitch.

[thesith]

— Holove

bad batch x gn!reader (platonic), implied crosshair x reader

this is a one shot (1k)

warnings: 18+ for insinuations, cursing

notes: thought this idea was funny! i tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible, let me know if there are any slip ups! this hasn’t been edited or proofread.

summary: you, echo, hunter, wrecker, and tech play smash or pass with your newly made holove (tinder) account.

“Give me your holopad,” Hunter asked you, “there’s a game I want to download.”

You gave him a look, “You have your own, Hunter. Download it on yours.” You pulled your device close to your chest to assure he doesn’t get it.

So of course he tackled you and won, typing in your password to access the holostore. You gave up and opted to watch whatever the hell he’s doing from over his shoulder. When you watched him type ‘Holove’ into the search bar, you attempted to snatch your holopad back.

“Hunter what the fuck? That’s a dating app, not a game.”

His reaction time was fast, pulling the holopad above both of your heads as it downloaded. “It’s called Holove roulette. It’s like Smash or Pass that we can all play!”

“Then why does it have to be on my holopad!” You huffed and crossed your arms, knowing that there was nothing you could do. “Why don’t you use your own? Or Wrecker’s?”

“Our faces are too well-known - you’re anonymous on missions! We’re also… you know… clones,” he attempted to explain, “also it would be fun to know who thinks our teammate is gorgeous, other than us.”

You didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, but you didn’t care. The game sounded fun enough to play, even if it was just a game. “Fine, at least let me help make my own profile.”

The images you chose consisted of a couple selfies from your bunk, a portrait from Pabu, and an image with a cute animal you saw on one of the many planets you’d visited with the crew. You made sure none of your images had their armor nor faces in them and turned the holopad for Hunter to see.

His eyes widened, “Smash or Pass: Hunter.”

You laughed before getting to work on the remainder of your bio. “What the fuck does A/S/L mean?”

“Let me see.” Hunter asked, to which you handed him the holopad, “Aurebesh Sign Language? I don’t know…”

Tech walked into the room at the perfect time, “Aurebesh is an alphabet, not a language. If I’m correct, which I am seldom not, A/S/L means age, sex, location. Did you coerce them, Hunter?”

”You’re in on this?” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Next you’re gonna say Wrecker and Echo are too.”

“You betcha!” Wrecker hollered from the pilot’s seat, accompanied by “it sounds like fun” from Echo. You expected the latter to be on your side, but you were proven wrong.

“What do I even put for location? We’re everywhere…”

Tech glanced at the holopad, “I do not think it’s wise to say Ordd Mantell, even if most of our time is spent there. Perhaps a sector? Ordd Mantell lies on a cross-section of three sectors, Bright Jewel, Qiilura, and Dohu along three separate hyperspace trade routes, Celanon Spur, Burke’s Trailing, and Entralla.”

“Bright Jewel sounds pretty. What’s in that sector?” You asked, hoping you could say a planet from there.

“Ordd Mantell serves as the sector capital, but Aleen, Numidian Prime, Anobis, and Jarnollen, to name a few.”

“Hunter, write down Numidian Prime. That’s a planet I’ve actually heard of.”

Tech fixed the goggles on his face, “your potential suitors will conclude that you’re a bounty hunter if you say that.” He paused to inspect your seemingly content face, “To each their own, I suppose.”

“Now, any ideas for the bio?”

“In my research, I’ve concluded most dating application profiles include things the person enjoys. A very common one is ‘I enjoy long walks on the beach’.” Tech expertly replied, giving you all the right ideas.

“I like shooting things! And running from the Empire!” You gleefully replied, earning yourself looks of disappointment from Hunter and Tech.

“Well, that fits the profile of a Numidian Prime inhabitant.”

Hunter sighed, “maybe we don’t say that. What about flying? You like flying, right?”

That made you audibly laugh, “you two never let me fly the Marauder!”

His reply came quickly, “Hey, it’s a better idea than ‘I like shooting things’!”

Tech thought for a moment, “How about travelling? I recall that you immensely enjoy our times on different planets, even if we are being targeted with less than optimal intentions the majority of the time.”

“That’ll work!” You were getting increasingly more interested in creating your profile, as were your crewmates. Maybe this would be more fun than you thought.

“What gender?”

You leaned over his shoulder to check ‘all’ before leaning back, “also, increase the range to the furthest it will go. More options that way.”

Soon after that, your profile was finally completed. Omega was long asleep, so you joined Hunter, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker in the cockpit to finally play.

You set the holopad on the ground between the five of you so everybody could see the screen. “Okay, ready?”

The first few were straight passes from everybody - you were not into Gungans nor droids.

“Holy shit, is that Fennec Shand?”

The boys laughed as Tech inspected it closer - it absolutely was her.

“Pass.” “Smash.” “Pass.” “Pass.” “Smash.”

“Are we just gonna forget that she tried to take Omega from us? Also tried to kill us? Multiple times?”

Wrecker tried to explain his reasoning as to why he said smash, “She was hired to do that! I like a woman who can handle a weapon.”

“This game is based on looks - we would’ve all said smash if we didn’t know her. Stop shaking your head, Hunter.”

A few more rounds went by before a familiar face popped on the screen, earning gasps from everybody. Hunter grabbed the holopad with a white-knuckle grip, swiping through his brother’s posted images.

“Is that who I think it is?” You asked, the wide-eyed looks from those who surrounded you telling you everything you needed to know. “Holy shit, Crosshair is on Hololove?” You managed to snatch the pad from the Sergeant, looking at Cross’ profile. “Oh, so he can say that he likes to shoot things but I can’t?”

The brothers remained silent, not knowing what to do with this newfound information. You did, though.

You swiped right, “Smash.”

A ding came from your holopad - ‘It’s a match!’

fin.

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist!

[mymindhesmine]

His Favroite Star, The Sun

💌 pairing: Zayne X Reader X Sylus (Love Triangle)

💌author's note:

Hello! Thank you for taking the time to read this, this is my first post here on tumblr! Before starting the post please read this! This is a fanfic in an AU from the Love and Deep Space storyline. Details such as back stories, present events and others will differ from the games story. Please keep that in mind that this fic is not going to follow the plot of the game exactly. Some events will live up and others won't.

Also this js my fic and my writing, if you don’t like how the characters are written or the plot, feel free to exit.

And in this fic, it is a love triangle and reader is not MC from the game. in this fic, reader is a famous idol, as well as Sylus (Sylus is still the leader of Onychinus but in this fic the leader is faceless and unknown and goes by an alias), Zayne however is still a world renowned and highly recognizable cardiac surgeon/ doctor.

As well as this fic will have a music element where I will state the song of the chapter/section. Feel free to listen if you want to. Lyrics will be in italics.

🎼song: 'I Wanna Be Yours' by Arctic Monkeys

🍒tags: mention of previous relationship (Sylus X Reader), F! Reader

Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoy!

🎀 synopsis: It has been your dream since you were a little girl that you would be a star, an idol, to let the whole world know who you were. But if the world knows who you are, they know everything about you from your work, to what you do personally and your relationships including past and present. The past of being with another famous solo artist Sylus, who is now your ex with the public knowing of the messy relationship and breakup from it. The present of being with a world-renowned cardiac surgeon Zayne. The limelight seems to shine too bright sometimes, and along with it following you, so does your past. Will it catch up to the present?

"Y/N! Please face this way! Smile!"

"Y/N! Do you have a moment for a quick interview?"

"Y/N, say hello to all your fans watching at home!”

Between all the yelling and bright lights flashing in your face, all you could do was smile.

Smile and pose, hands placed on your hips, turning slightly when you deaned it appropriate. Standing for a bit before walking down the carpet further and repeating the steps.

Smile, turn, walk, repeat.

That was until a large camera was pushed in front of you, a woman wearing a long floor length champagne colored gown with a slicked back bun approached with a microphone in her hand and a wide smile on her lips.

"Y/N! It is so lovely to see you tonight at the Golden Star Music Awards! How are you this evening?" The woman said, pointing the large microphone towards you.

"Hi! Good evening! I'm doing amazing, I’m so excited." You greeted to the woman, smiling brightly.

"You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, so beautiful as always." She complimented.

"Thank you, you look so beautiful as well." You complimented.

"What a sweetheart you are! I heard you were nominated for an award at tonight's show, do you think the odds are in your favor?"

"I have no idea, if I did win that would be so amazing but even it I didn't I applaud whoever does. Everyone deserves recognition on a night like this."

"Are you excited for any of the guest performances?"

"I am! I can't wait to see what is in store. I wish them all good luck, I know everyone will do amazing!"

"How sweet! And I see you came alone tonight, are you attending with friends or a plus one?"

"Actually my-"

Before you could finish your answer you felt a hand gently place itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to a figure slowly. Making you tense up and then look up to see who it was.

"You made it, I didn't even know you were already here." You said smiling, as soon as you saw those familiar and warm green eyes you felt yourself relax.

"I wrapped things up earlier than expected, I just decided to find you instead of waiting inside." A soft voice said, as you felt the hand move from the small of your back to your waist.

"Oh my! Is this your famous doctor boyfriend I've been hearing so much about? two make such a cute couple!" The woman complimented, chuckling as you smile and nodded.

"Yes, he's-“

"Seriously, I think you two are perfect for one another. Obviously better than the last one right?" The woman said, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she chuckled and shoved the microphone closer to you.

"I-I um, I don’t-" You stutter to say, your hand gripping tightly at the skirt of your dress.

"I heard he's also attending tonight's show, do you think he'll…"

'It's one of those gossip reporters wanting to get more details in my life to sell an article or something.' You thought to yourself as you drowned out the rest of her conversation, you could feel you face growing hot and your hands becoming clammy with embarrassment.

"We should be heading inside and finding our seats soon, the show will be starting soon." You heard his voice respond rather strictly and coldly, making you look to him.

"I understand totally, I just wanted to ask since so many people have been curious.it was nice to meet you-"

"Let’s go before the show starts without us, it was nice meeting you as well." He said, taking your free hand in his own and walking off with you.

"Bye Y/N! Enjoy the show, hope to catch you after-" The woman said, but you had already drowned her out as your attention was faced to his broad back as he guided you down the carpet and to the entrance of the venue.

"Are you all right?" He questioned, his voice ringing with concern and worry as he watered your features.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." You managed to stutter out, not wanting to cause commotion with so many people around still.

"Some people just don't know how to respect others, regardless of status or attention. She shouldn't have asked such inappropriate questions." He stated, as you nodded in agreement and exhaling a long breath.

"Look at me." You heard him say softly, making you look up to meet his warm green eyes.

"If you don't want to stay longer or don't feel comfortable, we can leave. You tell me."He said softy, as you shook you head.

"I think I’m okay, thank you." You said, as he eyed you a bit.

"Even if you feel fine now, you tell me if anything changes. All right?" He said, and you nodded.

"I will. Thank you Zayne.”

You got inside the venue with no issues and were guided to your table by a staff member. Zayne had pulled out your chair, and you sat down as you thanked him. He sat down next to you as the staff around served water glasses to the both of you.

"Are you looking forward to the show?" He asked, as you sipped at your glass.

"I'm excited to see the performances, but I'm more nervous for the awards." You admitted.

"You were nominated for a few of the categories, no?" Zayne asked, as you nodded.

"Mhm, that's why I'm a bit nervous. I didn't really prepare before hand. It’s just a little nerve wrecking not knowing." You admitted, and he nodded understanding.

"But maybe I won't win, and that's okay too! I just hope if they do that they're more prepared than me." You chuckled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. As the show is about to start." A loud voice boomed through the venue and the other guests started bustling to their tables.

As the noise died down, and the lights on the stage shone brightly on the host you and Zayne made small banter.

"Welcome to this years Golden Star Music Award Show, I will your honest for the evening. Who is ready to win some awards and watch some amazing performances?!" The host announced, making the other guests cheer in response.

The show went on as typical from what you expect, guest artists performing their latest and most popular hits with dancers and over the top visuals, awards being handed out with heart filled speeches and tears, all with you and Zayne bantering and basking in each others presence without a care in the world.

"Our next performance is from an artist who we all love for his sultry sound and unforgettable voice. Appealing to the masses with his dark image so far that his latest album sold tens of thousands of copies within the first week, made it number one on the charts and is nominated for awards in multiple categories at tonight's show. Please give a warm and inviting welcome to Sylus!"

The audience cheered loudly as the spotlight shifted to the center of the stage, you could see Zayne shift from your side slightly and you turned to him and smiled before looking back to the stage.

The lights surrounding the venue darkened, as solem tempo music started playing. You recognized the song all too well, it was on the radio on repeat so much and you did like it.

You saw the figure on stage, a band behind him as the spotlight shone bright and cameras panning across and showing his face on large screens to the audience who weren’t close enough to the stage. You had to admit he did have a nice voice, you’ve heard his previous work in the past and you did like it.

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner

Breathing in your dust

I wanna be your Ford Cortina

I will never rust

You could see people slowly swaying in their seats, mouthing to the lyrics. You felt a soft brush against your hand as you looked to see Zayne interlacing his fingers with yours. It made you blush slightly at the small physical contact, and you quickly looked back to the performance.

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

You call the shots babe

I just wanna be yours

A spotlight that was hung over the audience shown, carefully dancing across the guests until it slowed and rested its attention on you and your seat. You flinched slightly at the brightness, making you look away and resting your sight on one of the large screens. Maybe it was the camera angle on the stage but with how it was positioned, it was like he was staring straight at you.

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

You looked back at Zayne and although he was looking disinterested you could see how white his knuckles in his free hand look, balled into a fist. You carefully ran your thumb over his knuckles in your hand, seeing his tightened fist relax and his stance less tense. He looked to you and you gave him a soft reassuring smile.

You both knew what was going on.

He was playing games.

The show went on like clockwork, awards and performances continued and you waited with bated breath for the next awards announced.

"Now for the award for 'Best New Rising Star, with several amazing nominees. The winner for last years award will be announcing the winner." The host said, as the audience clapped.

"Please welcome back Sylus to the stage!" The host exclaimed, as more cheering and clapping ensued.

You could see the familiar figure nod to the host, taking the microphone they held along with the award. Once done they turned to face the audience at the stage.

"It is my honor to be able to give this award to the nominee who most certainly deserves it. "The winner of this year’s Best New Rising Star Award is…" He started, you bit your lip with anticipation.

The silence was slowly killing you, you just wanted this done and over with. You could feel your grasp in Zayne"s hand tighten and you tried to not chew your lip off.

"Y/N L/N." He said slowly, as the audience started clapping and cheering.

You face froze in shock for a moment, as you looked to Zayne who stood up from his seat and guided you to stand. You smiled and hugged him tightly, feeling tears threatening to spill as he whispered in your embrace.

“Congratulations." He said, as you let go of him reluctantly.

You wanted him to come to the stage with you but you knew it wasn’t the best option for now, instead one of the guests would help you up to the steps as you made your way up before getting on the stage alone.

As on cue, one or the guests who was often seen accompanying winners onto the stage held their arm out for you to take and you did so. Hearing cheers and whistling as you smiled and waved to the crowd, the cameras panning and following you as you made your way to the steps of the stage.

You thanked the kind guest before adjusting your dress and walking across the stage, hugging the host before they walked off to the far side of the stage.

Leaving you alone with all eyes on you, with Sylus.

"When I met Y/N, it was as if it was never meant to happen. Just a coincidental meeting that sooner became the start of a beautiful connection, as if faith knew it was destiny for us to meet. Only for years later I would be the one on this stage presenting her this award for the world to see." He started the speech, the crowd cheering and clapping as you did as well.

"From the first moment we met I knew I was in the presence the most talented person I would get the pleasure to know. When it comes to music, she has dominated the industry with hit pieces without failure. When it comes to personality she has always demonstrated kindness from the bottom of her heart. And when it comes to determination and work ethic, her work is never underestimated or undermined."

"Even with all these awards, music, recognition and status of being an artist, what counts is the person who put their heart into what they value. She succeeds it by not changing or letting herself be pressured into doing so. She has been able to accomplish so much while not letting the pressure change her into something she isn’t. Even if the times has changed along with many others things, she is still the same girl I met all those years ago."

"She is someone I respected highly, whom I hold so much pride and admiration to. Who I’m proud to say I know, proud to say I’ve looked up to and proud to say I love with my chest and won’t ever stop loving."

You felt your chest tighten, your hands become clammy as the crowd only got louder at the statement.

"I’m proud to present this award to her as she deserves it more than anyone in this world, ladies and gentlemen the winner of the Best Rising Star Award, Y/N." Sylus finished, turning to you as the crowd continued to cheer and all you could do was stand in shock.

Standing there as if caught in the act, surprise and fear etched into your face as everyone was looking at you. You could see the edge of a smirk resting on his lips from your peripheral vision, as you slowly got over the anger and nerves. Approaching him with your hands out, a tight smile on your face as you accepted the trophy from him.

His hand lingered as you grasped the award, before letting it go slowly and you approached the microphone on the stand.

"I want to thank everyone here tonight for the opportunity of receiving this award, this is such an honor to be nominated and win this so thank you again." You started, as the crowd cheered and you could see him sits, smirking from your side.

"Thank you to everyone who has even given me the chance to make this dream come true. From my team to my family, writers, producers, friends, colleagues, and the people closest to me that I love and hold dear to me thank you for all the support and love you have shown me. I hope to keep amazing everyone with all my work and hope you can see me continue to grow not only as an artist but as a person too. Thank you again, I love you all." You finished, waving as you held the award up again before quickly rushing to the stairs you came from.

You could hear footsteps follow you and already knowing who it was, holding onto the railing to make sure you didn’t fall. You looked to see Zayne at the bottom of the staircase waiting for you and you smiled in relief.

"Here, let me-"

"I’ve got it, thank you." You responded quickly, holding onto the railing and going down a few steps before reaching out to the outstretched hand before you.

Taking Zayne's hand once in reach and having him help you down to the ground level, clutching the award. Once you were stable, you looked at him and with the look that he gave you in return you could tell he wasn’t happy but more concerned than anything.

"I wanna go home."

💌 author's note:

Hello! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, if you liked it please let me know! I hope to be posting soon!

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Sentences on Sunday!

I have two things I've been working on over the past week to share with you this fine Sunday!

First up - an excerpt from my Buddie fic about Famous Country singer Eddie and Firefighter Buck. This is a small part of the section bout Eddies childhood and how he became a country singer in the first place. Its very much in its draft form (sorry run on sentences I need to fix!) so it may not end up looking like this when I'm done with it, but thats a long way off as this fic is going to take a while to actually write because surprise, surprise it keeps getting longer!

But Eddie was never much good at holding things in for very long.  Oh he could bottle things up like the best of them, but it always ended up badly when he did. Building and building until it exploded out of him at importune moments.  So, when he got suspended from school for fighting with Luis Garcia after Luis had caught him staring at Noah Johnson in the locker room and had, in the way teenage boys do, proceeded to be a dick about it, he found himself on the receiving end of an angry lecture from his mom and sent to his bedroom with no dinner as his initial punishment until she had spoken with his father and they had decided what was to be done about him.  He had angrily sat on his bed, fuming over the injustice of being punished for defending himself against a bully, staring at the guitar propped up in the corner of his bedroom, remembering the words his Abuelo had often said to him;  ‘Music, Eddie, is always with you. It lives in you. Setting it free will help you make sense of the world and of yourself. It is your truth, never lose sight of that.’ He remembered those Sunday afternoons at on the porch. They were his favourite time of the week, the few hours when he felt like his true self and free of the expectations placed on him.  The guitar had stared back at him and he had found himself crossing the room, picking it up and sneaking out of his window onto the roof. Scrambling up the shingles until he was sat with his back to the chimney stack looking out over his neighbourhood, he began to strum. Rusty fingers fumbling with chords he only half remembered.

And the second thing I have to share - a picture - I'm currently mid editing my submission for the podfic fest coming up in October! I've been having a blast giving podficing a go and I hope you'll all enjoy listening to me reading one of my most favourite Buddie fics when its time to share it (even if I'm convinced everyone will hate my voice and how I've read the fic!!)!!

Tagging the following and anyone else who has something to share! @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @daffi-990 @honestlydarkprincess @princessfbi

@fruityfirehose @hotshotsxyz @theyarnmaidstale @dorkydiaz @theladyyavilee

[ofliterarynature]

DECEMBER 2024 WRAP UP

[ loved liked okay nope dnf (reread) ]

(The Warrior of the Third Veil) • Labyrinth's Heart • Graveyard Shift • Haunt Sweet Home • Dear Bartleby • The Weaver of the Middle Desert • (Jackaby) • Jamaica Inn • The Hallowed Hunt • The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All, Vol 1 • (Beastly Bones) • These Old Shades • (Ghostly Echoes) • Balancing Stone • (The Dire King) • Bestiary • The Agony House • The Bone Maker • Siddartha • The Morningside • Why We Sleep

* * * * *

It's the final month with this picture format because Goodreads has decided to f*ck their page format entirely! Only managed to do this month through some miracle and a bookmarked page on my phone.

The Warrior of the Third Veil & The Weaver of the Middle Desert - wonderful! I'm so glad that Victoria was finally able to finish Weaver, what with it being almost 6 years since it's original mentioned release date. It was really nice getting to see more of Arzu, since she's not one of the Red Company and we don't know much about her. Jack and the beanstalk is not the fairy tale I'd have expected to be incorporated here, but it was neat! I feel like I should have thoughts about how this series is the 'Sisters' Avramapul but still always end up being about Sardeet at the heart of the story, but I still kind of wish we could fit in a fourth book about her third husband? She has such terrible taste in husbands, I want to see how the last one screws up.

Labyrinth's Heart - mixed feelings! In reality I read this series in quick enough succession that I didn't have much time to build up expectations, and I did like and enjoy this and think it was a good ending to the series. I was a little meh on the beginning, mostly - the whole favor/marriage tournament felt a little weird, and it was over so quickly (comparatively - it's a long book!) and went out with a whimper. This was the book where Ren's house of cards was going to start falling, and bringing back mother dearest (whose name I've forgotten again) was a genius move that was well supported - she just ended up feeling very underutilized because Ren was being pulled in ten directions and she played her trump card so early in the story, which left her feeling more of a petty villain rather than anything more significant. It also felt like after the authors killed off a major character at the end of book one, they weren't willing to take such a swing again? Which really dropped the tension for me, unfortunately. I think book 2 will live on as my favorite in the series, but I still had a great time with this one. Would highly recommend the series!

Graveyard Shift - the author may have abandoned tumblr years ago, but some part of me still feels compelled to support her books lol. This was interesting! Another one for the mycological horror section. I don't really have much more to say - I saw people saying it should have been longer, but I don't know that I would have stayed interested for much longer, and thought the structure of telling the story of this one 8 hr period was clever. I wonder if a series of single-shift novellas would be something feasible?

Haunt Sweet Home - meh. I think I was hoping for something a little funnier? But this really didn't leave me feeling much. A pass from me. Maybe try the Haunted Home Renovation series by Juliet Blackwell.

Dear Bartleby - 4th book in the series, and in this one we are back to epistolary, romance, and a full novel length! My speculations were correct that I'd find epistolary + romance more enjoyable, and contrary to my usual tastes I do think the author writes better in 1st person. It unfortunately doesn't hide the fact that the author can't create any kind of personality for the secondary characters. Everyone can be boiled down to "X personality trait and interested in Y thing." As the novel got further into romance territory it definitely started to annoy me more - the romantic interest was nice, but I couldn't really tell you why they were in love. idk! Hoopla doesn't have the next book on audiobook so I've been forced to stop with the series, which is probably for the best.

Jackaby - look, I didn't *mean* to reread this entire series, but here we are. I picked up the first one because my print copies were on the potential chopping block, and I had positive memories of reading them (and the covers are so lovely). They were okay! I had a pleasant enough time, but I think that was in part because I'd read them before, and I kept picking them up because I was struggling to find other books to read (see: my dnf list for the month). I don't know if I'd have liked them if this was my first time through, but they're also in an odd spot where they were published as YA, but Abigail is treated as an (young) adult, and there are no other teenage characters. Who knows! The fourth book was a bit meh, not on its own necessarily, but as part of the series a lot of it came out of nowhere - I think this really could have used a book 3.5 to help in the transition to the endgame. Interesting, but leave this one to the teens, I think.

Jamaica Inn - I had mixed results reading du Maurier's Rebecca a few years ago, but found this at the library sale and decided to give her another shot. "Liked" is perhaps too strong of a word, but it kept my interest and I didn't speed the audiobook up to 2x, so I'd call it a success!

The Hallowed Hunt - so sad to be done with the Chalion novels! I still have the Penric & Desdemona novellas to work through at least, which I hope to do in 2025. I feel like I saw reviews saying this wasn't as good as the other two, and while I do think Paladin reigns supreme, this one didn't quite yuck me in some of the ways Curse did (and also was less confusing for not being the first book, lol), so I think I enjoyed the reading experience more. Did the weird, forbidden animal magic remind me fondly of the Farseer trilogy? Maybe. My only real wish is that Bujould would have let Lady Ijada say her own part.

The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All, Vol 1 - this was so cute!!! I've never read a manga before, so I can't compare it to other books. I struggled a bit to follow the text because there were multiple speech bubbles following different conversation threads, but! The characters were SO expressive, it was pretty easy to muddle along. The art is so great, and I loved the side characters of the overly-invested uncle and the classmate who totally ships it. Also maybe very obsessed with the gender of it all :D So glad my library had at least one copy of this for me to try, I think I'll probably end up buying my own copy and Vol 2 when it comes out in 2025.

These Old Shades - I've been wanting to try Georgette Heyer's work ever since I saw KJ Charles describe some of her own books as being "Heyer but gayer." This one I found at the thrift store and just happened to be one of the half-dozen my library has as an unabridged audiobook (library, why are so many abridged???), so here we are. I wish I'd liked it. It's no fault of the writing, and I certainly enjoyed the dramatic twists and reveals. My dislike largely lies with the main pairing of Leonie and the Duke, which starts out as servant & master, then guardian & ward and seems somewhat paternal, but inexplicably shifts to romantic, with much support from the other characters. I suppose it may have been considered within norms for the time period? But it really hit some of my squick points and yucked me out. I don't think you'll find me recommending this one, but I'm still willing to give Heyer another chance or two.

Balancing Stone - a brand new short story in the Greenwing & Dart series, starring Hope! Victoria still doesn't have many stories with female protagonists, so it's always nice to get a new one, and Hope is such a lovely person. Not much in the way of plot, but definitely provoking some thoughts about the old Alinorel religions (an ongoing theme) as well as a new outsider perspective on Jemis, which is always entertaining.

DNF

Bestiary (4%) - Picked this up entirely on a whim at the library book sale. I was intrigued by the magical realism of the description and the lgbtq tag, but the opening was very odd and I wasn't into it.

The Agony House (15%) - one of my four unread Cherie Priest books! This one was YA, which was already a point against it; the mc was a senior in high school but the tone of the writing was almost more middle-grade, which is not bad in itself; and the way the family was going about renovating their house annoyed me lol. I decided it probably wasn't going to be one I really liked and wasn't invested enough to keep going.

The Bone Maker (55%) - Very sad about this one! I read a number of Sarah Beth Durst's YA titles as a teen and was excited to see her put out her first adult title. It took me a while to get to this because I was waiting for my library to get the audiobook, and unfortunately I think I got around to it too late. I wanted to like this but the characters and story just never quite gripped me, and by the halfway point it was starting to feel like a slog. Since I also dnf'd Durst's more recent adult title The Spellshop the other month, I think it might be time for me to say goodbye to her work.

Siddartha (4%) - a paperback copy of this was gifted to me by a friend in college, and while unfortunately her track record has not been good so far, this is the first one I had to dnf! The audiobook version I picked had a nice introduction about the author, which I did like, but unfortunately the actual book just went in one ear and out the other and wasn't working. Me being tired, the language being poetic, and my unfamiliarity with the place and culture were a bad combination. Maybe I'll keep the print version on my shelf for another attempt.

The Morningside (35%) - I started this at work on a Friday and got along well enough, but come Monday I'd forgotten what I'd been reading and felt kind of meh about starting it back up. Story-wise it reminded me somewhat of 2 AM at the Cat's Pajamas (which I didn't like) and some worldbuilding/vibes of The Saint of Bright Doors (which I did). Not something I'd be opposed to trying again someday, but maybe I'll start with one of the author's other books first.

Why We Sleep (31%) - I wanted to read this, really! I think the subject is interesting and I also know that my sleep schedule is very, very bad, so personally it felt very relevant. Unfortunately listening to this on audio was putting me to sleep - the author actually took time to note, if this puts you to sleep, let it, he'd be pleased! Unfortunately I was listening at work, and that's a no-go lol. Maybe one I'll purchase in print and keep on my shelf to try again "someday".

[stashandtell]

Newest Fic: Ranking the Weasleys

Hermione was drunk. It was all Ginny’s fault.

“RANK MY BROTHERS, Hermione! The people deserve to know!”

“OKAY! Okay. FINE. I give in! I’ll rank all your brothers, based on their looks AND PERSONALITIES. You have such a morbid fascination with how shaggable I find your brothers!”

“You’re STALLING!”

Hermione huffed as she tucked into a ball and then shoved Ginny in the butt with her lint-covered sock. This was a normal girls’ night for them. Lots of wine, shouting, and playful-but-catty roughhousing.

Read Ranking the Weasleys on AO3

- - - -

I'm so happy to be sharing this on the deadline I set for myself, which is today, Hermione's birthday, 9/19/24. As a very new fanfiction writer, who is committed to enjoying this hobby as long as the muse is with me on it, I had marked a handful of bdays of some of my favorite characters as occasions to post fics this year. It's been a nice way to stick with projects and put some artificial pressure on myself. Originally I was working to release a piece based around Hermione getting a belated Moon Party thrown for her by the Gryff girls. Moon parties are typically thrown for young people when they start menstruation if their friends and/or families are into that sort of thing. I'm still working on that fic but I did quickly push pause on it last weekend when, at 2 AM, after letting myself indulge in almost a full day of writing a different fic, I had the seed of the idea for Ranking the Weasleys and cranked out a very formidable first draft in 2 hours. (Yes, this means I went to sleep juuuuust before the sun was preparing to rise. Worth it.) When the words flow, you go with it. It also happens that I'm participating in The Weasley Clock Discord's Bingo Collection (Event? Fest? Bingo-Thing?) and this covers my square for "Ginny Weasley" quite nicely!

- - - - About Fred, George, Bill, and Fetishizing War Wounds These are some initial thoughts I had on the subject and is in no way a comprehensive analysis of the topic.

I wasn't expecting to discover that Fred's battle injury and recovery included him using a wheelchair for the rest of his life in this story but it came out in the writing process. I thought deeply about how, in many Harry Potter fanfics, we see examples of fetishizing elements of people's injuries or hardships (I say this in a non-judgemental way. I truly was pondering it.) If you read Dramione, think about how Draco's Sectumsempra scars are sometimes described. "Scars are sexy" is often a thing in our fandom (and in real life for some!) and it paints a complex picture of attraction, reverence, and attractiveness in a shorthand, accessible way to many readers, from writers. Especially when writers are writing from inside the private minds of characters, the characters are allowed to have thoughts that may not be appropriate or sensitive to others' identities, sense of self, language preferences, etc. It's why many of us love reading fiction; we get an intimate look into the messy, imperfect, and sometimes illicit thought processes of characters. It can be enthralling. But, for this particular, shorter one-shot, I wanted to try to be consistent about how I approached how Hermione was objectifying and trash-talking the characters for many things they either had control over or were core parts of their developed personalities. But what about George's gold ear? I thought about this too. Yes, Hermione thinks the ear is "very fun and cheeky," but she's not into how he's missing an ear or saying that she is attracted the prosthetic because it's a prosthetic or symbolizes a trauma he went through-- my intention was for her to make a comment on the choice of it being solid gold. The opulence of the ear prosthetic was a "fun and cheeky" choice of George's. I hope that came across. I deleted a whole section about how Hermione found Bill to be sexier after his attack from Greyback, not because of the injury but because it changed his mindset about how he wants to protect others.

"...even after he was attacked, he grew even more assured in himself which just made him hotter. And it wasn’t the mild-lycanthropy that made him more confident..."

I couldn't make it work without it being clunky and preachy, so I cut it. I wanted to make sure Bill's scars and the effects of a werewolf affliction weren't portrayed as a turn-on in the very same piece where I was trying to navigate a sensitivity and neutrality to Fred's use of a chair. Sometimes it IS best to "murder your darlings," amiright? I'll admit, I fell in love with Fred in this fic and how he's hot and cold with Hermione, even though he's pretty successful in the dating field with other wixen. Maybe this fic will inspire something longer [shrugs]. I grew fond of some of the implied backstories that grew out of this absolute brain-barf I was seemingly compelled to type out through tired, tired eyes. - - - -

A while ago, I drafted a post ranking all my favorite Hermione/Weasley sibling ships, and it was nice to have such a hefty post pre-written that fit in with all this. It was likely the base of the fic I would write-- cooking along on the back burner of my brain until it was ready to served out. I appreciate that my inner-monologue-made-outer-tumblr-posts may be another way of puzzling out plots I may eventually create! Check It Out:

Nobody Asked For This: My Rankings of the Hermione x Weasley Ships with REASONS (tumblr post)

Some Recommendations for Fics That Influenced My Weasley-Ship Rankings (tumblr post)

Ranking the Weasleys, a Harry Potter fanfic by stashandtell on AO3