#it's a good thing when writing makes people feel things

[dear-ao3]

by popular request: how to write an email

a disclaimer that this is the specific kind of email you send when people are absolutely smiting you and you know a phone call or an in person meeting is not possible/will not help. like youre 12 emails deep in an email chain and going in circles. youve been re routed to 13 offices 4 separate times. those kind of emails.

credentials: ive taken something like 13 semesters of college (dont ask) and every single semester have had to fight at least 3 offices for varying reasons in order to take classes. (including one time where i was shorted 5k in financial aid. i ended up getting 200 more dollars than i needed in the end) also my dad taught me everything he knows about emails (hes a tradesman turned corporate man and most of his job consists of telling people (nicely) that what theyre doing sucks and makes absolutely no sense)

Step 1: figure out who the email needs to go go

there is nothing wrong with emailing 11 million people if it gets the job done. if someone isnt helping you and you Know that they Should Be feel free to start to copy their boss on the email. copy your boss on an email. (or advisor or whoever). even if you think the person might only be like Vaguely helpful, sometimes people know people.

also theres nothing wrong with emailing the same email to several departments. sometimes you have to make a lot of noise to get something done (again. as like a last resort. dont email 11 million people right out of the gate)

Step 2: remember to be Polite

a very tempting step to ignore especially when you are 13 thousand emails deep in problems. but! if you are not nice to them! they will probably continue to smite you in the future! you want to make friends! not foes! so no matter how much people are smiting you, try to resist the urge to be an utter dipshit because it will not get the job done. vent to a friend or a coworker and send your polite and nice email

Step 3: articulate the problem Clearly.

a very important step. especially if you are adding more people to your email chain. dont assume they know your exact problem. they probably are dealing with other problems. articulate Clearly what is happening, no matter how long the email may be. its far better to get a long and detailed email rather than a non helpful short one. that will only prolong the process of how long it takes the problem to get solved.

Step 4: cite your reciepts.

wildly important. send your screenshots your attachments your whatever the fucking fuck youve got. its always good to have a paper trail. this is also where you would state any previously attempts to have the problem Sorted (ie i reached out to x person on x y and z days about x problem and it is still not resolved). you would not believe how many people dont scroll down in an email, especially a forwarded/replied one. so summarize whats Down There in your most recent email

Step 5: use the appropriate lingo

you dont have to be Overly Formal but there are a few good Buzz Sentences that usually get the job done. for example:

As Per My Last Email: a great line. emphasizes that youve already mentioned this. and this is not the first time youre mentioning this point. also emphasizes that the Thing has yet to be solved

See Attached/See Below: under utilized. again. people do not open attachments and they do not scroll down. almost had a friend once fail a class because a professor gas lit them in an email chain saying they didnt receive the final paper when the paper itself was attached earlier in the email chain. be Painfully Literal. it pays off.

Help Me To Understand: this is one of my dad's favorite lines. it really shows that you have no fucking idea what the person youre emailing is getting at and youre offering them the opportunity to spell out their nonsense for you. so that you can then be like. well. clearly This is where the miscommunication lies. its a great line. has saved my ass many times. because it is not accusing it is just offering someone to understand. it does not attack. it just is.

Step 6: give a polite sign off.

something along the lines of "thank you in advance for any help" or "i look forward to hearing from you" does the job. something that sends the message you are not pissed to shit at them even if you are.

Step 7: follow up and follow up often.

polite email response time is 48 business hours/2 business days. if it has been longer than that you have every right to email back and say hi x person just following up on this email, have you had the chance to review it yet? again. keep it polite. you actually want them to help you. and if they still dont respond well then maybe its time to loop in a boss or a supervisor or whoever the hell else. dont be afraid to go above them if you need to. nothing wrong with getting shit done when it needs to get done.

and really, if all that fails, as my dad says, a little office bribe in the form of cookies has never hurt anyone :)

so an email. should be formatted something like this:

Greetings/Good Morning (Afternoon) (Person)

I hope this email finds you well (or something similar for a greeting). I am reaching out regarding X incident/problem/whatever the fuck it is. I have previously reached out to X person on X dates and (summary of whatever they did or didnt do). See below/attached emails/pdf/screenshot/document (if applicable)

(explanation of the problem in as simple and detailed terms as possible. have someone re read it to make sure that it cannot be misconstrued)

(explanation of what you are looking for as a solution)

Please help me to understand why this (solution) has not been able to be reached. (explain you are on x timeline if the situation is urgent)

Kind regards/Thank you for any help in advance/I look forward to hearing from you etc,

email signature

go forth and conquer your emails. remember, sometimes you have to be a squeaky wheel. and in my million cases of email sending, it has ALWAYS paid off and i have gotten the problems solved. dont be afraid of the emails they can help you.

[pochaccoups]

facetime — choi seungcheol & yoon jeonghan

pairing — choi seungcheol x yoon jeonghan x f!reader

summary — when three people in a relationship want to fuck but one of them is in a different country, facetime comes in pretty handy.

wc — 4k

warnings — nsfw content minors dni! smut, established polyamorous relationship, threesome (technically), phone sex, butt plugs, anal and vaginal fingering, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, so much dirty talk, soft dom!seungcheol, brat tamer!seungcheol, prone bone, creampie, slight daddy kink, reader referred to as a girl, a lot of ‘cheollie’ and ‘hannie’ sorry but i think they sound cute

author’s note — umm hi can u tell i had so much fun writing this …… this will be part of a poly jeongcheol series i have in the works so pls stay tuned and enjoy !!! :>

seungcheol: just finished up the show, what are you up to?

jeonghan: busy.

Attached is a photo that’s slightly shaky and dimly lit, but Seungcheol can make out every detail of you with Jeonghan’s cock halfway down your throat. 

It takes less than a second for Seungcheol’s caller ID to pop up on Jeonghan’s phone screen, and Jeonghan doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Yah… You know I hate being left out,” is the first thing Seungcheol says. The sound of his deep voice makes you draw your mouth off of Jeonghan.

“Cheollie?” you ask, beaming as you snatch your boyfriend’s phone from his hands so that you can see your other boyfriend through the screen. 

“Hi, pretty,” Seungcheol says, waving. He looks hot, but that’s a perpetual characteristic of his. He hasn’t removed his makeup yet, and his hair, getting longer, is still styled from the show. “Miss me?”

“So much. We both do,” you say with a grin. You make a show of mouthing at Jeonghan’s cock for the camera, sticking out your tongue so you can slap the tip on it, swirling it around, all with a faint mischievous gleam in your eyes at the sound of one boyfriend’s whines and the other’s sulking.

“Yeah? Doesn’t really seem like you do,” Seungcheol says, laying back on a bed that’s way too soft, too cold, too far away. 

“Seungcheollie, you know how needy our girl is-ah,” Jeonghan pipes up, moaning as you wrap your lips around him and bob your head up and down. 

“I do know, and you’re not innocent either, Jeonghan. You miss getting your pretty little ass fucked, don’t you?” 

You worry Jeonghan will bust then and there from the way his cock twitches in your mouth, but fuck was Seungcheol right. It’s why you all prefer to have sex with all three of you present, because at this point having someone missing feels… weird. Not bad. Definitely not. But the absence of a third lover becomes far too apparent.

Right now, you and Jeonghan don’t have much of a choice though. Duty calls, meaning Seungcheol is touring on the other side of the world—has been for the last two weeks and will be for another two weeks. Jeonghan would be with him if it weren’t for his enlistment. Alas, you have Seungcheol’s voice to do what it does best: tell you two exactly what to do. 

“Take all of him, baby, you know you can,” he says, soft and slightly commanding in a way that makes you want to do good just for him, make him proud. And you’ve taken Seungcheol, who’s a little longer and far thicker, all the way down your throat many, many times before that swallowing Jeonghan’s entire length feels like a mere warmup. 

Pride swells through you when your two boyfriends curse above you, filling you with an eagerness to give them more. So while one of your hands holds the phone, albeit shakingly, your other hand pumps the base of Jeonghan’s cock, in rhythm with your mouth as you bob up and down. It’s wet and obscene, the way you lap up the precum that leaks from your boyfriend’s tip only to let it spill from your lips and drool all over him, all over your fingertips. 

Your eyes never break away from Seungcheol, who’s chewing on his bottom lip and staring at you with eyes that are both clouded over with desire and dark with concentration. If you know your boyfriend then he’s thinking of all the things he would do if he was in the same room as you two.

Jeonghan doesn’t expect it when one of your spit-slick fingers creeps down to his ass and traces his hole, and he squirms and cries as you prod at his opening before pushing inside. He’s taken Seungcheol many, many times, too, that your finger should feel like a warmup, but two weeks without his boyfriend’s cock stretching him out is torture, so the slide of your digit in and out is a sweet relief that he’s forgotten. 

You pull your mouth away from him, sitting up on your knees so that you can angle the camera for Seungcheol to watch as your finger dips in, all the way to your knuckle, then back out of Jeonghan’s hole. 

“He’s so whiny today, Cheollie.”

“Mm, more than usual, huh?” he replies, licking his lips, his hand reaching to his crotch to palm at it just a little. He thinks about how his fingers are twice as thick as yours, how Jeonghan would sob if it was his hands inside him. 

“He misses your fat cock,” you say, and Seungcheol feels his sanity jump straight out of his hotel window. You’ve always proven detrimental to his patience and self-control, taking years off of your poor boyfriend’s life with your bratty ways. “Right, Hannie?” you say, right as you pull your finger out of him, grinning as he squirms and curses under his breath as a reply.

You only stop fingering him because you have an idea. With the phone still in hand, you dangle yourself off the side of the king bed to open one of the bedside table drawers, grab the silver heart-shaped plug and bottle of lube, then clamber back between your boyfriend’s legs. Jeonghan watches with glistening eyes as you drizzle the plug with lube. Once it’s drenched, you flip the phone camera around, letting Seungcheol watch as you press the tapered end of the plug against Jeonghan’s hole. The cold toy makes him flinch at first, and he shudders as you circle his rim with it until he’s thoroughly smeared with the sticky liquid. 

The sound Jeonghan makes when you push the plug inside of him is pitiful, and it’s in harmony with a deep groan of approval from Seungcheol. You’re the furthest one from dominant among the three of you, and yet you have these men dangerously wrapped around your finger. Your men.

“There,” you say, content, like you’ve just painted a masterpiece—and your boyfriend’s pretty ass with a cute heart-shaped butt plug nestled inside comes pretty close. 

“That’s my girl. So thoughtful,” says Seungcheol, and his praise ignites you with a sense of accomplishment that rivals the highest of promotions. 

“Can I make him eat me out now?” you ask, because it’s Cheol who does this best; sets the pace, tells you what to do, lets you sit in the palm of his hand while he does all the thinking for the three of you. A true leader, through and through. 

“Keep sucking Hannie off, baby, just for a bit,” is his instruction. It would be easy to disobey him, yes, to disconnect the call and turn off the phone if you so pleased, but the thing about Seungcheol is that even when his voice is soft, it still commands. 

You pout only for the sake of pouting because, really, having Jeonghan’s cock in your mouth is one of your favourite pastimes. You waste no time swallowing him all the way down to his base again, only to pop right back off him just to hear a tortured moan from him. You fall back into an up and down bobbing rhythm then, steadily, lips wrapped tight around your boyfriend’s length in the way that you know won’t make him last long. 

“Jeonghannie,” Seungcheol calls out, but the man in question is too busy whining and whimpering to hear him. When he’s close his brain all but shuts off and the only thing he can do is take whatever he’s getting with pretty, pretty moans. 

“Baby, don’t let him cum yet,” Seungcheol urges you instead. 

Jeonghan nearly sobs this time when you pop your mouth off his cock, but there’s a force in Seungcheol’s voice that compels you to listen. “Yes, daddy,” you say—the cherry on top.

Seungcheol drags a hand over his face, groaning. “Fuck, you two want me dead, huh?”

“Yeah, well, you two are disgusting… and annoying,” says Jeonghan, who sounds thoroughly irritated as a cute frown knits his brows together. 

Poor, poor you, with not one but two needy, jealous boyfriends who can’t stand not being the subjects of all your affection. If it was you in Seungcheol’s position, alone on the other side of the world, you would never get this sulky. You’d be completely rational about it. Obviously.

The urge to soothe Jeonghan comes as an instinct, one that makes you crawl up from between his legs so that you can straddle his slender waist and kiss his pouting lips. He melts into you when you do, mouth moulding against yours so sweetly, his hands falling to your waist and the tips of his fingers dancing softly against your skin. The Facetime call is forgotten, much to Seungcheol’s dismay, as you drop the phone to the bed in favour of cradling Jeonghan’s cheeks in your hands so that you can kiss him harder. Your crotch, still clothed, rocks back and forth over his erection and soon you’re moaning into one another’s mouths, muffled by your tongues that are swirling together. 

Jeonghan doesn’t have half of Seungcheol’s strength to manhandle you around, so he opts to gently guide you off his lap and onto the bed until you’re underneath him. He kisses you once, twice, thrice, leaves you reeling as he moves on to pepper your neck with soft nibbles and scrapes of his teeth. He pulls away for a moment only to drag your t-shirt (one of Seungcheol’s, of course) up and over your head. 

Now that you’re less occupied with Jeonghan’s lips, you pick up the phone again and bring the camera up to your face, grinning at Seungcheol’s small pout on the screen. If you could only hop through the phone and into his lap, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

“Cheollie, wanna see your cock, please,” you say, shivering as Jeonghan mouths at one of your nipples. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue as his hands reach up to grasp your tits delicately, and you sigh when his warm, wet mouth envelops one of your hardened buds. 

“Not yet, baby, I’ll take it out when Jeonghan fucks you, okay?” 

Seungcheol chuckles fondly at your unhappy hum, so he adds, “I wanna cum with you two, yeah?”

“Okay, fine- wait, Hannie,” you whine. “My boobs.”

He peers up, already between your legs, having decided he was done giving attention to your tits. You see right through it—your boyfriend is nothing if not vengeful. 

“You’re too spoiled,” he quips, peeling your shorts and panties down your legs, exposing your drooling pussy to him. 

“And you’re used to Cheollie doing everythi-ahh!” Jeonghan cuts you off when he licks your cunt without warning, sending your eyes rolling back into your head and your hand grabbing a fistful of his now-short hair. He’s far from rough and aggressive, but it’s precisely the patient softness of his touch that leaves you keening for more. 

“Baby, can you do me a favour?” Seungcheol asks, practically cooing as he watches your eyes glaze over with pleasure.

But all you can focus on is the way that Jeonghan’s warm tongue flicks lazily over your clit as well as the grip of his fingers on your thighs. 

“Baby?” Seungcheol tries again, only a little louder. This time your eyes flick to him on the screen and you make a little affirmative noise. “Will you flip the phone screen around for me, please? I wanna watch Hannie eat your pretty pussy.”

You do as he asks, pointing the camera to give Seungcheol a view of his boyfriend between his girlfriend’s thighs. 

“Good girl,” he says, breathier now, his tone darker. It’s deliberate; malicious, you would say—his praise makes you a whiny, needy mess. His voice alone turns you into a slut and he knows that because you’d told him that, word for word. “And since I’m not there, can you play with your tits for me, baby? The way that I would do it? I know it’s not the same, but it’ll still feel good.” 

“Mhm,” you moan. You find yourself closing your eyes as you let go of Jeonghan’s hair and bring your hand to cup your own breast, to squeeze and grope at it, to tweak and tug at your nipple, all while imagining that you’re leaned against your boyfriend’s sturdy, broad body and that it’s his big, unrelenting hand cupping your tits and not your own. 

At the same time, Jeonghan eats your pussy like the fiend that he is. Unlike Seungcheol, who lacks the control to stop himself from ravaging you like an animal until your pussy is raw and puffy, Jeonghan is much more, as he is in all aspects of his life, calculated. He’ll string you along with swipes of his tongue that seem coy until he’s making passes through your folds, prodding at your dripping, awaiting entrance. He licks into your hole and sips at your arousal like it’s honey, intent on making you fall apart slowly.

“How does his mouth feel, angel? Tell him,” says Seungcheol, whose lips have gotten swollen from his relentless chewing on them.

“God, Hannie, feels so good,” you squeak, your eyes still screwed shut as if that’ll help soothe the heat that burns through your body from Jeonghan’s mouth. Your fingers keep pinching at your nipple, and then Jeonghan slips two of his fingers into your heat, sending your hips bucking against his face and leaving you whining desperately, shamelessly. 

While his mouth makes out with your cunt, Jeonghan’s fingers dip in and out of you, massaging at your most sensitive spot over and over. He finds it with practiced ease, and he knows by now exactly what kind of vigour it needs to have you crying. He’s practically petting at your insides, your walls clamping around his fingers as your moans start to grow louder.

“H-hannie, I’m close, please, right there,” you squirm as your walls attempt to suck his fingers in.

You don’t see it, but his eyes flash with something devilish. Your other boyfriend sees it, though. 

“Jeonghan, don’t even think about edging her.”

Jeonghan smirks with mischief, letting his fingers do the work as he pulls his mouth away from your pussy. 

“Let me have my fun, Seungcheollie.” 

“If I did that neither you nor her would cum at all,” is your other boyfriend’s response. 

There’s silence as Jeonghan ponders whether he should obey or disobey. All the while, you’re mere inches away from your edge, hot with frustration because it’s so close; you’re so close. You just need a little bit more. It’s not too much to ask.

“Hannie, please…”

And he can’t find it in himself to deprive you any longer, so he crooks his fingers and works them as fast as he possibly can until you’re clenching, gushing, writhing all around his hand, wailing his name as you grab at his wrist but he still won’t stop. 

“Such a good boy, huh, Jeonghannie? Making her cum so good,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, sounding more breathless with each time he speaks. “Now we’re all happy.”

It’s only once your walls have stopped spasming around his fingers that Jeonghan finally slips them out of you and pops them straight into his mouth, licking them clean of every drop of your sugary arousal. He makes sure to gaze directly into the camera as his tongue laves and swirls over each one of his digits, knowing Seungcheol’s dick is twitching at the sight.

“I haven’t cum yet though. So I’m not happy yet,” he says, dragging a finger out of his mouth with a pop.

You sit up on your elbows with your cute, blissed out features, your eyes falling to his red-hard cock. 

“Come here and fuck me, then,” you say, impatient, like he didn’t just give you an orgasm. You paw at the hem of his shirt (also Seungcheol’s) and bite your lip as he pulls it over his head, letting your hands roam over his pale torso.

“Ride me?” he asks. How predictable. If it’s not Seungcheol taking him from behind then it’s you on top of him. God forbid Yoon Jeonghan does the work.

“Actually, I have a better idea. And this way Cheollie can see us both,” you say with a grin. 

With the phone on the front-facing camera, you prop it up against the headboard and roll onto your stomach, craning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Like this?” Jeonghan asks, straddling the backs of your thighs.

“Yeah,” you say, parting your legs a little, arching your back and raising your hips—presenting your soaked, messy hole to him. “Try not to get tired.”

He responds with a half-hearted smack to your ass and Cheol scoffs out a chuckle. Jeonghan slides his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, revelling in your tiny gasps every time it catches on your entrance. You’re prepared to whine and nag at your boyfriend to hurry up, but you suppose he’s feeling just as impatient as you are because he’s pushing in before you can even speak up. You look at Seungcheol, mouth dropping as you’re stuffed full with Jeonghan’s cock until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. His hands land on either side of your elbows so that he can hover over you, reel his hips back, and fuck himself into you like that. 

In this position, Jeonghan’s length brushes right against your gummy, sensitive spot with every stroke, making you keen for more even though he’s just started. 

“Harder, Hannie,” you sigh, pushing your ass up against his hips.

Instead of listening, he drops his head to the crook of your shoulder and kisses your skin. His breath tickles your ear when he whispers to you: “ah, what’s the rush, angel?”

You turn your head to catch his gaze, to drink in the sight of his face as he takes what he needs from you; his cheeks pink, his eyes tired and full of hunger. His lips, plump and enticing, evoke an unrivalled craving within you and he reads you well, brings his mouth to yours to give you as much satiation as he can muster. 

Seungcheol sits, silent, waiting. His patience is mere embers as he watches you two, his boyfriend and his girlfriend, tangled within one another. The wet slap of Jeonghan’s balls against the back of your thighs; the smacking of your lips, teeth, and tongues. He misses it. Fuck, he could go insane. 

“Cheollie,” you whine, when Jeonghan’s lips are no longer enough. “Want you to feel good too.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he replies, abandoning all semblance of the self-control he’d displayed up until now. It’s time, anyway, he thinks. He’s held off long enough. He puts his phone down and there’s shuffling as he strips himself of his sweat-soaked outfit from the show and settles upon the bed sheets once more. 

Saliva pools from the sides of your mouth when he angles his camera to show you his hand wrapped around his thick, erect dick and God, what you’d do to have it bruising the back of your throat until you’re gagging, letting him defile you all while he coos the sweetest of praises at you. 

“Daddy, I miss your cock so bad,” you admit in a weak whimper, shivering when Jeonghan angles himself deeper inside you.

“Yeah? Miss how I’d fuck your pretty little mouth?”

“Fuck, she’s clenching so hard around me, Seungcheollie,” Jeonghan grits. “Greedy little thing.”

“I mean, it’s our fault one cock’s not enough to make her happy anymore,” says Seungcheol, sighing with relief as he thumbs at his leaking tip, squeezing his fist around it, reminiscent of the way that you and Jeonghan like to tease him.

“Like I said,” says Jeonghan as he pushes two of his fingers between your parted lips. “Spoiled.”

You moan around them, staring straight into the camera as you suck on them, staring at Seungcheol, who starts to pump his hand up and down his cock. He wants to shut his eyes and pretend it’s your hand, or Jeonghan’s hand, or one of your tight, warm holes, but he can’t take his eyes off of his phone screen no matter how hard he wants to, and, well, he doesn’t want to.

He jerks himself off to the same rhythm that Jeonghan’s hips grind into yours. Seungcheol likes things a little faster, usually, more rough, but it’s Jeonghan who’s inside you right now, not him, so he matches his boyfriend’s lazy but not too slow pace, one that’s just enough to give you a gradual stimulation. 

There’s something about the whole thing—being fucked on camera, being teased with Seungcheol’s cock when you can’t have it—it has you way more excited than you expected. Way more turned on than you expected. It shows in the floods of arousal that drip from your pussy and dampen yours and Jeonghan’s thighs, in the way you’re whinier and more sensitive than usual.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s own noises don’t help. In fact they spur you on, coax you closer to your edge, urge the heat in your belly to grow. When Seungcheol isn’t giving deep, rasped curses, he’s letting out pretty, breathy, borderline whimpering moans. Jeonghan’s sounds are as angelic as he is. His voice is a holy choir in your ear, heavenly and soft as he gasps with exertion and pleasure; as he does things to you that any God would frown upon.

Jeonghan, too, is more sensitive. With the plug constantly brushing at his prostate, he can’t help but screw his eyes shut and pretend it’s his big, buff boyfriend fucking his girth into him. It makes his thrusts grow raggedy, like he’s more heavy. His body weight presses into you as his arms start to ache just a little. He’s impossibly deep in your guts like this and it feels so fucking good that your brain starts to melt. 

Seungcheol recognises the look in your eye—absent, like you’re starting to tap out and letting yourself become consumed by bliss.

“Is she getting close, angel?” he questions, punctuating it with a moan, the slick glide of his hand up and down his cock like music in your ears.

Jeonghan hums affirmatively. “Pretty pussy’s choking me,” he says, his voice cracking, his composure with it. He tries to put more vigour in his thrusts, more determination. The sooner you cum, the sooner he cums. 

“Cum for Jeonghannie, baby,” Seungcheol urges softly. 

“Cum for me,” Jeonghan echoes. You don’t stand a chance.

The heat inside you coils up, then erupts. Jeonghan fucks you through your climax as you tremble beneath him, crying his name and clawing at the sheets below you. 

“There it is, my good girl,” Seungcheol coos, tightening his grip on his cock as he tugs at it harshly as though it could ever replicate the feeling of your warm walls clamping down on him as you cum. 

“Ah, fuck,” Jeonghan gasps, dropping his head to your shoulder, cock twitching. His next request is a broken, pathetic moan. “Ch-cheollie, cum with me.”

Jeonghan stills inside you, whimpering softly with every rope of cum that he spills inside you, letting you milk him of every last drop. At the same time, Seungcheol gives a resounding groan as he brings himself to his own release, cum splattering over his toned stomach. 

There’s a moment of silence, or, rather, nothing but a harmony of laboured breaths as the three of you come down from your orgasms. You give a noise of protest as Jeonghan suddenly rolls off of you, but his stamina is always drained after sex—especially when he’s doing the work. You shiver, both from the emptiness in your cunt and the cold air that hits you now that you no longer have your boyfriend’s body as a shield from it. 

“Seungcheollie’s gonna wanna see your cum leak out of me, you know,” you say. 

“You know me so well, baby,” is Seungcheol’s reply. 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. He makes no effort to move from his spot, opting to stretch his arm above his head and pat around until he finds the phone. He sits up next to you, points the camera between your legs as he grips one of your ass cheeks and spreads you apart. 

There’s a screenshot sound as white drools from your spent hole.

“Seungcheol!” you shriek. “You pervert.”

“Coups-ya, send that to me.”

thank you for reading! reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated <3

tags — @svtiddiess @ylangelegy @simpxxstan @caibeauchicfashion

[chrollohearttags]

love thy neighbor • r. sukuna

(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…

📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie

wc: 3.0K

🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy

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you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.

nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it’d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.

“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ‘Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”

plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.

however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.

“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”

but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.

“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”

plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.

“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”

“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”

“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”

“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”

it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.

“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.

“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.

“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.

“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.

observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…

“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.

“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.

“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!

“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”

“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”

plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”

“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.

“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.

“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”

but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.

“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.

“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”

“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”

“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”

never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.

“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“

and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.

[moonstruckme]

Pookie! I need you to write me something pretty please :)

Can you write Remus comforting a reader with an anxiety disorder when someone told them "there's nothing to be anxious about. You just want attention" ??? Pretty please?? Love you pookieeeeeee

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mean girl stuff, social anxiety

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 929 words

“Shh.” Remus holds you close to his chest, his hand moving up and down your arm now that your crying has slowed. “It’s okay. It’s just us, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you echo, croakily. You’re glad you can’t see your boyfriend’s face, for fear you’d die of embarrassment otherwise. The looming insecurity of your day stands over you like a grim reaper. 

You arrived home from a friend’s birthday dinner to find Remus sitting on the couch, already marking the page of his book as he turned to you with a soft smile. 

“Hi, sweetheart. How was it?” 

You replied, through a laugh that turned into a sob halfway through, “Not great.” 

The dinner had been an event of foreboding for you since your invite. You’d been determined to be a good friend by not bailing, but actually going had confirmed your worst fears; it was loud, crowded, filled with people you didn’t know and didn’t fit with. Your outfit wasn’t right, the menu was daunting, and conversation swirled all around you about things you weren’t a part of. The fallout was basically inevitable. 

You perhaps waited too long to excuse yourself. You were sweating buckets and breathing around a lump by the time you did, whispering an explanation to your friend before locking yourself into a bathroom stall to talk yourself down. You’re sure she didn’t mean anything by telling the people sitting closest to her why you were gone—you don’t think she’d do it to gossip, and she’s never talked down to you about that sort of thing, at least not to your face—but by the time you returned one of her friends—a stranger to you, who’s name you can’t even remember—had formulated a fairly decisive opinion and dubbed you an attention seeker. 

You stayed only a little longer after that. Just long enough to avoid attracting more attention. And you worked yourself up well enough on the way home that all it took was one innocent question from Remus to send you crumpling into his arms. 

You’ve tried to steel yourself more than once, but any attempts at stoicism have been foiled by your boyfriend’s tender looks and whispered placations, which only make you cry harder. If you’re an attention seeker, Remus is your holy grail. Self loathing sits lodged in your throat like a stone. 

“Whose friend was it, again?” Remus asks, stroking your arm gently. 

You take a breath, trying to steady your voice. “Does it matter?” 

“I don’t mean it’s your friend’s fault, sweetheart,” Remus says. He’s all softness and patience, better than you could ever deserve. “I just thought you might talk to her, if you want to. She ought to know her friend is going around saying cruel things.” 

“She was there.” Your throat tightens at the memory. 

“Oh. Then I don’t suppose you need to say anything; I’m sure she’s already very upset for you.” 

You try to laugh, frustrated with yourself when it only seems to spur another wave of tears. “Rem. You’re biased.” 

“What?” Remus sounds genuinely surprised. “You don’t think she’s angry with that other girl?”

“She’s her friend.” 

“So are you.” His arms tighten around you protectively, chin bumping your head. “I may be biased, but the other girl was clearly in the wrong. There’s no excuse for the way she acted.” 

A dozen rebuttals fly about your head, but you keep your mouth shut. You don’t have the energy to argue. Unfortunately, Remus hears your argument in the silence anyway. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “no one puts themselves through what you do for attention. You don’t choose to feel that way.”

You hunch your back, tucking your head underneath his chin. “I do get attention for it, though.” 

“That doesn’t mean you want it.” 

“But I—”

“Do you want it?” You can’t see Remus, but you hear the hardened edge to his tone. “Did you like it, when that girl called attention to you in the middle of the dinner?” 

Your voice smalls. “No.” 

“Right.” The gentleness returns. Remus puts his lips to your head. “I know you didn’t, dovey. So don’t torment yourself, please. She doesn’t know anything about you.” 

You push your lips together. He lets you chew on your next words for a while, his thumb swiping softly back and forth over your upper arm, the sleeve of your top shifting slightly with the motion. 

“What if…” You gnaw the inside of your cheek. Remus waits. “What if everyone thinks that?” 

“Mm. Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think most people would. Surely not anyone who knows you, or anyone worth being around.” He takes a breath, thinking. “You can’t always control what people think. I know you say I’m biased, but anyone who thinks something like that really isn’t worth thinking about at all. You’ve got enough going through that head of yours, yeah?” He kisses your hair fondly. 

“I guess so,” you admit. 

“Yeah,” Remus decides. He pulls away to see your face, pushing hair away from your tacky cheeks. “I’d say so.” 

You wonder if you look as horrendously in love as you feel. You think you must, because your boyfriend’s expression softens impossibly further as he turns his head to give you a proper kiss. You feel raw but comforted, and suddenly, totally exhausted. 

“Let the bullies worry about themselves.” Remus gives you a tender look. “I’ll worry about you.” 

You let a small smile tilt your lips. “And what am I left to worry about?” 

“Nothing,” he says solemnly. “Think you can manage that?” 

“Nope.” 

“Mm. Well, try.” 

[rottenfyre]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ MY CRAZY BOYFRIEND 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

☆⁠ 𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 : Robins x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭.

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : 𝘋𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘥, 90𝘴 𝘛𝘪𝘮 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘦, 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦.

☆⁠ NOTES : 𝘛𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

⎯ DICK GRAYSON

You walked into your room, ready to flop on your bed after a long day, only to scream when you saw Dick fucking Grayson himself sitting cross-legged on your floor, holding one of your shirts. “What the hell, Dick?!” you yelled, clutching your chest. “What are you doing in my room?” He looked up, completely unfazed, flashing his signature charming grin. “Hey, babe. I missed you.” You pointed at the shirt in his hands. “Why do you have my shirt?” Dick stood up, holding it close to his chest like a lifeline. “It smells like you, and I needed it to get through patrol last night. Do you know how hard it is to fight crime without the love of your life’s essence keeping you grounded?” “Dick, that’s so creepy!” you exclaimed, though you were trying not to laugh. “But I love you,” he said with those puppy-dog eyes, leaning closer. “And I thought about you the whole time. Did you think about me too?” “Not like this!”

⎯ JASON TODD

You were out with Jason at a local diner, enjoying some milkshakes when you noticed he kept glancing at you while trying (and failing) to be subtle about it. “Okay, what’s up?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Jason grinned, leaning forward with his chin on his hand. “Nothing, just thinking about how cute you look when you drink your milkshake.” “...Thanks?” you said, feeling your face heat up. Then, out of nowhere, Jason pulled a tiny notepad out of his pocket and started furiously writing. “What are you doing?” you asked, bewildered. “I’m cataloging everything you do that makes my heart race,” he said matter-of-factly. “Like, right now—number 438: The way you scrunch your nose when you’re confused.” Your jaw dropped. “You have a list?” “Of course I do,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “How else am I supposed to remember every little thing I love about you?” You buried your face in your hands, torn between laughing and dying of embarrassment. “Jason, people can hear you!” “Good,” he said, smirking. “Let the world know how much I love you.”

⎯ 90s TIM DRAKE

You were sitting on your couch when Tim burst through your front door, looking frantic. “Tim?! What are you doing?!” you shouted, startled. “I need to check your internet history,” he said, completely serious. “What?” you gawked, standing up. Tim held up his laptop like it was a sacred relic. “I hacked into your Wi-Fi and noticed some…suspicious searches.” “You WHAT?!” “Why were you looking up ‘how to tell if your boyfriend is crazy’ at 3 a.m.?” he demanded, his face a mix of hurt and desperation. You stared at him, your mouth open in shock. “Tim, what the hell! That was a meme! I wasn’t being serious!” “Oh.” He blinked, looking sheepish for about two seconds before he perked up. “Well, now you don’t have to wonder. I am crazy—for you.” “Get out of my house!”

⎯ DAMIAN WAYNE

You were in your backyard when you heard a rustling noise coming from the bushes. Frowning, you approached cautiously, only to jump back when Damian crawled out on all fours like a feral cat. “Damian?! What are you doing in my bushes?!” He stood up, brushing off his uniform like this was a perfectly normal situation. “I was ensuring your safety.” “By hiding in my bushes?” you asked, flabbergasted. “I must remain vigilant,” he said, crossing his arms. “You are surrounded by incompetent fools who cannot be trusted with your protection.” “Damian, my dad is literally inside the house.” “He doesn’t have the necessary training to spot an assassin from 300 yards away,” Damian scoffed. “But do not fear—I am here.” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This is so creepy. Do you even hear yourself?” “Creepy? No. Devoted? Absolutely.”

ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ: ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part II

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.

genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

part i

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

September, 2026

[Excerpt from Kelly Clarkson interview with Y/N]

“We’re so excited to have y/n l/n with us today, I can’t get your latest song out of my head. It’s really such a great revival of the sultry pop ballads,” Kelly says joyously, and y/n can’t help but smile.

“Thank you! That means a lot coming from you – I grew up watching you on American Idol, I can’t believe I’m even sitting across from you now.”

“Oh my god, stop! You’re gonna make me feel real old. Congratulations again on your Grammy for your sophomore album, All I Ever Needed. How did it feel going into your new project with that in the back of your mind?”

Y/N shuffles uncomfortably on the couch. “Hmm thank you. I – well, it was really different. The songs I wrote on there were coming from this feeling of bliss which was fading fast by the time the Grammy’s rolled around. I had to figure out what kind of artist I am if I’m not in love, or writing about happiness. It felt embarrassing. I don’t like being vulnerable, but I love sharing love. So it was hard for me, not gonna lie. But I’m happy that we got there in the end.”

“Wow, well I was able to listen to a few other songs on this record. I gotta say, I think it’s by far your best record yet. And did you write on all of the songs this time around again?”

Y/N nods her head, a small smile creeping back up on her face. “Yeah, I did. It turns out that writing about sad things can be really cathartic. But I really want people to know that it doesn’t mean this isn’t an album about love. At the end of the day, each of these songs are love letters to every single moment or person that made me feel something – for better or worse.”

early October, 2026

[Transcription of Capital FM segment with Y/N]

“We’ve got Y/N L/N with us here on Capital FM, and we’re about to play a quick round of Never Have I Ever! Are you ready?”

Y/N smiles, holding a paddle with “I Have” and “I Have Never”. “Sure, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Great! Now first one: Never have I ever… regifted a gift someone bought me.”

“Ooooh, not a gift someone bought me. But things I have been sent or given in goodie bags I’ve definitely regifted,” Y/N says, and raises the “I Have Never” paddle.  

“That’s alright! I think that’s not too bad. In fact, I’d volunteer to get something regifted from you,” the host laughs. “I usually donate it, but next time I’ll keep you in mind!”

“Perfect. Next one: Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs”

Y/N rolls her eyes and raises the “I Have” paddle. “Who hasn’t? If people say they haven’t, they’re just lying to you.”

“Who’s the most famous person who’s ever been in your DMs?” The host asks, and Y/N laughs. “Hmm Taylor Swift, maybe?”

“You’re good friends, aren’t you?” Y/N nods. “Yeah, I actually wrote ‘how did it end?’ during a studio session with her.”

“Hmm that brings me to the next question – never have I ever written a song about an ex.”

Again, Y/N raises the “I Have” paddle, but then twists it so it’s halfway. “I think sometimes, no scratch that, I think almost always songs work way better when they’re open for interpretation. Isn’t it nice how everyone can take something else from it, that way?”

“Have you ever gotten back together with an ex?” The host asks, and Y/N makes a ‘tsk’ noise. “Never! First rule in the book, or so my friends tell me all the time.”

"Even when the heart wants what it wants?"

"Even then."

mid October, 2026

[Excerpt from Call Her Daddy episode with Y/N]

“I think in many ways this album is the most naked I’ve ever felt in my emotions. But maybe that’s actually a good thing,” Y/N grins.

“They do say that sex sells,” Alex (Cooper) responds, and Y/N chuckles. “You’ll find hardly any of that on this album.”

“That’s not entirely true, there’s a song on there with some explicit lyrics,” she adds.

“Undrunk? Funnily enough, that one was probably one of the easier ones to write because it actually felt the furthest removed from myself? It’s inspired by, but not based on my own experiences. I’d say it’s my unlived life,” Y/N tries to explain.

“Talk to me about that. People are always quite eager to pinpoint all experiences of a celebrity. They know who you’ve dated, look for clues and dissect every lyric. How do you decide what to share and what not to share?”

“I think it’s sort of why I wanted to share ‘how did it end?’. Even the title track is me addressing the fact that everyone feels entitled to determine my love story. Including me, I think everyone tries to engineer or hack happiness at one point in their life. But it doesn’t work like that. And at the same time, it’s important for me to try and have some semblance of control over my own narrative, my feelings, my sense of self. And that also goes for the people whose presence in my life inspired me to write these songs. For better or worse, I’m grateful for it.”

Alex smirks. “Look, we can’t avoid the topic here. We all know that one of those people is Formula One driver Lando Norris. He’s also got a lot of very dedicated fans, who’ve been clamoring under every post of yours to leave him alone ever since you started dating. How did, and do you deal with that? It would have been easy to erase him from your social media, once the relationship ended, but you chose not to do that. Was that a conscious decision on your end, or something you ever discussed?”

Y/N takes a sip of water, and purses her lips. “I kinda feel like it’s just not really my place to expand on that – it’s between Lando and his fans. Like, it actually has nothing to do with me, I feel. If people are surprised I didn’t delete like three photos, it’s just because I like them – it’s not that deep. I can still cherish good moments, even when they’re in the past. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of the fact that my ex was part of my life. But it’s not for me to comment on it beyond that. He’s well within his rights to want to delete them, and he doesn’t need to explain to anyone – not to me, not to his fans, anyone why he did it.”

“But it’s more than that. It does seem to imply he doesn’t like the association. And yet you referenced him in the video for “Jaded”. It’s caused some controversy,” she prods a little more.

Y/N snorts. “I was just paying homage to my co-writer, and her iconic 7 Things video. But it’s also partly me taking that ownership. A video is one of the few spaces where you can set the scene. If I wanted to expand on it, I’d have done it through art. People will be mad either way, and the props don’t add anything you can’t already infer from the lyrics.”

“Has he listened to it?”

“Have you?” Y/N counters. Alex smiles, then moves on.

end of October, 2026

[The Independent excerpt]

Y/N L/N reveals tracklist to her third album as anticipation grows!

An obvious contender for the BRITs, is what the first reviews are saying about L/N's latest record “Jaded”. The LP will arrive in just two weeks, but up until today we did not know the exact runtime of the highly anticipated album. After posting to her Instagram, Y/N L/N revealed that the regular version of The Prophecy will count 12 tracks, with the deluxe edition raising that to a comfortable 16. Fans will surely be delighted to know that they can purchase various versions, all contributing to what is looking to be a very easy chart victory.

Talking to Jimmy Fallon earlier this week, L/N stated that she hopes her fans will listen to the album in its running order. “I know it’s really tempting to skip straight to your favourite, but I spent ages ruminating over how to tell my story in the best way – so I hope that translates.”

So far, all official singles of “The Prophecy” have charted both in the Official Top 20 as well as the Billboard Top 40, with The Heart Want What It Wants peaking on top, and Jaded just outside the top 10 at #11.

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥ I was soooooo happily surprised by the response to the previous part that I hurried up to post this :) Any comments, likes, reblogs, asks are super appreciated. ♥ Part III will follow shortly, it'll be four parts in total. for those interested, official tracklist songs

how did it end? - Taylor Swift / The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez / Jaded - Miley Cyrus / Lie to Girls - Sabrina Carpenter / Breakeven - The Script / The Prophecy - Taylor Swift / Stay - Gracie Abrams / Science + Faith - The Script / Moral of the Story ft. Niall Horan - Ashe / Undrunk - Fletcher / Vertigo - Griff / No More Sad Songs - Little Mix / Paper Hearts - Tori Kelly / Into You - Julia Michaels / Supercut - Lorde / Genesis - Dua Lipa

[malleusmaleficent]

i do theatre shit and it's to perpetuate an extremely niche genre of music because it needs more young people, or else it'll die out

but anyways, regarding writing for attention like. it's definitely a thing yk, like i explicitly started writing witch hammer (and my fic before that) thinking like: "this is a truly wretched combination of things, and it creates a combination so niche that i am pretty much the only person that would want to read it, and that's okay"

like that was exactly what happened when i wrote life's tangled skein, which got nearly zero interaction. but witch hammer turned out wildly differently, witch hammer caught on super hard (by my own standards anyways).

and like, let me tell you, writing these two things has felt VERY differently. like the way in which i engaged with both stories is different, life's tangled skein i had a very clear mission and i was trying to capture a particular feeling, for me specifically. like i wanted to see if i could write something to make myself feel a certain way. and i did, i think. nobody read it, but i succeeded and i was never once troubled by audience reception and i was never checking for new comments or new likes or whatever. i was never thinking how a plot point might affect people.

however, witch hammer is a very different story. i am telling you right now if i wrote the story i had set out to write, there'd be fujos howling at the moon or some shit they would be so upset LMAO and like. i don't really want to write what i had initially set out to write anymore, im just not in the headspace for that. i have enjoyed keeping it light, i like writing cute shit too much.

but also, i'd be lying if "but what will me readers think" weren't a consideration as well. like i don't really participate in fandom culture, so i wasn't really aware entirely, but some people take this shit DEATHLY seriously. and while i think that is extremely silly, right, if someone that takes it deathly seriously got invested in something i've wrote, i don't want to actively make their day worse yk.

and i am checking for new comments every day, and i am watching the like counter go up.

and i'll be honest, it does feel a bit less "pure" to me, whatever that means. i haven't unpacked what that means exactly, but that is how i feel. i want to know people like my writing, and i want people other than me to vindicate me spending so much time and effort on this very niche project of mine.

now part of this is timing, i started writing witch hammer just a few days before i got laid off from my full time job, so that put me in a weird headspace. the tremendous wave of positive feedback i got after the fact was very helpful and i'd fully admit i latched on to it for a few weeks as i tried to clear my head.

but i'm good now, and buddy i am still watching for new comments lol.

i dunno, it's a complicated thing.

i do write for attention, actually, because that's a normal reason to create art

[signanothername]

Hi Anó! Do you have any advice for writing characters like killer? How do you achive that nuance? I love your comics and would love to learn about your artistic process a bit!

Hi Gal!! A delight to see you in my inbox! <3

Omg thank you sm hcchhcchch (have you seen your own comics???? *shakes you* /pos)

Ok but I say this genuinely, I think your ideas and comics are such a beautiful and refreshing take on these blorbos, you’re doing such an amazing job both writing and art wise (your 2 Killers idea is so fucking good eeeeee) <3333

Ok to the question xgzggxzg

Killer is definitely.. complicated to write, I struggle with him sometimes ngl shshhdh

I honestly went and reread his entire comics, lore and answered asks to get a deeper look into him to be able to write him

But when it comes to writing him, I generally try to keep 6 things in mind at all times

1-trauma: how does the resets, working for Chara, having his code get manipulated and killing over and over again till what was new became something old affect him? (the whole idea of Killer killing people started as an offer of trying something new, so he kept killing till he got bored and killing became something stagnant)

This can easily be portrayed in Killer’s canon inability to till what’s real or not, as well as his hallucinations and the guilt he’s ridden with, always running from his past yet never outrunning it, as it always catches up to him

2- conditioning: his conditioning started from the days of Chara, then continued into his days with Nightmare, how does his conditioning affect him in his daily life?

How was he conditioned specifically? And how does that contribute to Killer’s perception of self, autonomy, self worth, and life in general? How does it change his body and mind?

Does it make him believe he’s just a machine meant to please others even when it hurts him, does it make Killer perceive vulnerability as a death sentence

How does he feel about his masters? Does he hate them down to every bone, or does he not care?

3-personality: Killer’s personality always change depending on the stage, but what are the main traits that you know Killer will always have regardless of the stage? Being quiet is one thing, he keeps to himself (as much as the fandom loves to portray him as extremely hyperactive, he’s not at all the loud, talkative, hyperactive skelle the fandom makes him out to be)

He’s also extremely secretive, seems to have knowledge that others don’t, and seems to always be up for a social interaction regardless of who’s with him

He’s also actually extremely patient (another thing the fandom stripped away from Killer’s character), and is very docile (isn’t aggressive unless pushed and never is an attack on sight kinda person) yet holds a grudge big time

He seems to see himself as superior over others, he’s extremely fucking intelligent it’s actually scary

These traits are something I try to keep consistent within my writing for Killer

4- relationships: what are his relationships with other characters like, and why?

Taking the 3 points before into consideration, how does Killer’s trauma, conditioning, and personality make him perceive others and others perceive him?

Are his relationships healthy? Toxic? Are they one sided or mutual? Does he care about the person in his vicinity or are they just another nobody? If he cares why? If he doesn’t what would he do to them?

Would he take advantage of his relationship with someone or is it a relationship he wishes for it to vanish?

5-stages: I think this is truly what makes Killer extremely complicated, cause see all of the 4 points above? how does each stage differ from each other?

How does stage 1 deal with his guilt/truama and conditioning? How does stage 2, 3, and 4 deal with them?

Depending on each stage Killer’s outward perception, personality, attitude, thoughts, and actions change

But how do they change exactly?

This is something that you need to understand each stage for to be able to integrate into writing

Stage 1 is the stage where he’s most sans like, yet never sans enough, stage 2 is when he’s apathetic to everyone and everything and perceives killing as “fun” because he’s painfully understimulated , stage 3 is when he’d attack whoever is in front of him, and stage 4 is when killer is no longer present mentally

How does each stage deal with his environment, with the people around him, how does he deal with the dissociation and how does he perceive himself in each stage?

6-environments: how does the environment Killer lives in affect him?

Killer starts in an environment of time loops, how does that affect his perception of time and reality? He then becomes Nightmare’s subordinate, a dangerous environment with constant threats to his life from every angle, how does Killer feel about it? How does he deal with it?

Will he get to try his luck and escape, or has he given up on himself and the idea of freedom? Does he even believe he has a chance for a better life in a safer environment? Will he go for a safer environment or will he cling to the comfort of what he knows?

When he does finally go to a safer environment, how would that affect him? Both positively and negatively? Would he feel like something is missing? Would his mind constantly tell him that this safe environment isn’t really safe?

Then of course, beyond these main 6 things, there’s the in between, what are Killer’s likes? His dislikes? How does he feel about sleep, food?

Generally when writing characters, it’s important to keep in mind interpersonal factors, intrapersonal factors and environmental factors that ends up affecting the character’s behavior, or in this specific situation, Killer’s behavior (god I’m realizing how much my uni major affects my writing of characters rn chchc)

But I say the biggest life saving advice I have that helps with writing characters in general (and especially complicated ones like Killer) is having the question “why” as your closest friend

When you make a statement about a character, in this instance Killer, always attach the question “why” at the end till you can’t attach it anymore, until you reach a point where asking “why” becomes unnecessary and annoying

For example:

“Killer loves golden flower tea”

Why?

It reminds him of the bed of golden flowers he passed out on

Why does that matter?

Because it was the point of no return from a change that will always dictate who he is

Why is it a point of no return?

Because his soul had deformed beyond recognition and it can never be brought back to how it used to be

Why would it dictate who he is? Why can’t he just choose to be someone else?

Because he was conditioned to be this killer by a higher power out of his control

At this point, there are no more “why”s that would make something as simple as a golden flower tea statement more nuanced than it already is, so when you ask why again, you find that you’re unable to continue giving an answer, that’s the point of where you stop

In fact, allow me to test you by giving you a quick question about your own interpretation of the characters, why does your Nightmare admire Error? What is in Error that Nightmare admires specifically?

Of course, you don’t really need to answer me, but I’m just giving you an example of how asking “why” can help you make so many simple things more nuanced

Ok but what if you know there should be an answer to a “why” but you don’t know it yet? Then you keep it in mind for later, you won’t always have the answers to everything on the get go, sometimes, you need a bit of time to figure things out and write characters the way you feel satisfy you, until then, you can work on other things about the characters

*Cough* anyway, this is honestly everything I can think of off the top of my head? Hopefully I didn’t miss anything ydfhgchchchc

Do let me know if you’d like any more help or need clarification on anything, I’d be happy to help where I can <33333

Now have a sketch of your 2 Killers cause I love them dearly, they have a special place in my heart (genuinely adore how you write Killer already btw)

[yellowbrokenblue]

Could you write something about Harry, where his girlfriend is accompanying them on tour or maybe she is a 6th member of the oned (you choose how to do it) and they keep finding a way to escape without the people seeing to sleep with each other or he tries to take her to his bunk bed on the tour bus or to his hotel room... smutttt please

“My boyfriend is literally on stage.”

kofi!

cw: public sex, slight daddy kink

There was something about being surrounded by tens of thousands of teenage girls screaming your boyfriend’s name that made you feel so good that after all of this, it was your arms he was running into. Not theirs.

Liam, Zayn, Niall, Louis and Harry were the most desired men on the planet right now, but little did the fans know that you and Harry were exclusive for a while now and there was nothing they could do about it.

The guys had been nice to you for the most part. You’d joined their North American tour to get as much time with Harry as you could. But they were always busy, between rehearsals and recording sessions you didn’t have any time together. Most of the tour was you just watching the shows and exploring the city on your own, it wasn’t exactly what you had expected.

You took a quick snap of Harry performing a solo verse on stage during the last song, before slipping away to make it backstage before the crowd dispersed and so that you could greet Harry as soon as he came off stage.

He was so insanely attractive on stage, the way his jeans clung to the same legs that you’d straddle him on, and that hair that you’d tangle your fingers in…

You stood in the wings of the stage, watching as Harry skipped off towards you, a towel in his hand that he used to wipe the sweat off of his head.

He ran into your arms, grinning, lifting you up and spinning you around.

You hand him a hair tie, and he swiftly ties his hair into a tight bun, keeping the hair away from his face. He knew you liked it when his hair was tied up, it meant you could see all his features properly.

“Good show once again, rockstar.”

“All for you, baby.” Harry said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I put on that show and you’re the only thing on my mind.”

You grin at him, your hands on his waist pulling him closer to you.

He quickly bucked his hips against your stomach, showing off the hardness forming under his pants, you look up at him, eyes wide and mouth watering.

“I’ve been waiting all day to get my hands on you, gorgeous.” Harry breathes, his hot breath hitting against your neck.

“Then you can have me. Where’s the hotel?” You ask.

“No hotel tonight, sweetheart. We’re overnight on the bus tonight, Dallas to Kansas City.”

“The bus?” You question, disheartened that you wouldn’t be getting the night in a hotel together like you expected.

“Don’t look so sad, baby.” He says, whispering in your ear, quiet enough that no one else in the room will hear him, “I’ve been waiting all day for that sweet cunt of yours, hotel or no hotel, I’m still gonna have it.”

Your heart skips a beat, “Harry, you share a bus with Niall and Zayn. They’ll hear us.”

Harry smirks. “Then you’re just gonna have to be a good quiet girl for me then, aren’t ya.”

You’d never had sex in the bus before, nothing had went further than a make out.

Harry joked around about how notoriously loud you were in bed, he joked around about how all the other guests at night would be kept up at night when he fucked you.

You had no idea how he expected you to stay quiet on a bunk in a tour bus.

“Get to my bunk,” Harry says, “I gotta pick my stuff up from my dressing room and I’ll meet you there.”

You done exactly what Harry said, you made your way to his tour bus and got straight into his bunk, pulling the curtain closed. It was as small as you would imagine, considering it was a bed in a bus.

You heard the door open soon after, with the guys making their way onto the bus and walking straight up to the small living and dining area at the front where the TV was. Harry however, kicked off his shoes and jumped straight in the bunk with you.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He grinned, pulling the curtain closed once again, and placing a fierce kiss on your lips.

“Hey.” You replied.

“I’m not wasting any time with you.” He said, “Sit here in between my legs, angel.”

He lifted you into position between his legs, brushing his face against your neck, his lips then attaching to your skin.

“Remember and be quiet.” He whispered into your ear, before returning to the soft skin of your neck.

You felt his hands on your thighs, moving closer and closer up your skirt, until his fingers brushed over the fabric of your panties.

You’d been soaking wet all night for him, watching him up on stage in those damn jeans, knowing damn well what was underneath and in store for you later.

It was soon after that Harry tore the panties from you, ripping them in half for his fingers to gain access to your pussy, your toes clenching as his fingers moved in rapid circles, the tension building between your legs.

He had to put one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Gagging you already and I don’t have a finger inside you yet, nevermind my dick.” He lowered his head to whisper in your ear, “How you gonna last, huh?”

You moan into his hand as he brings you to an orgasm. You feel your body quiver as he continues to pump his fingers into you, soaking them in your sticky cum.

“That’s it baby.”

This was one of the longest orgasms you’d ever had from just his fingers- something about the anticipation and naughtiness of being so dirty just feet away from his bandmates, paired with his hand firmly pressed over your mouth was too much for your body to deal with.

You were still processing your high when Harry moved so he was balancing on top of you, moving your body so your head was rested on the pillow. You watched as he slid his pants down his legs and shoved them at the end of his bed, and began to palm his cock over his boxers.

He was so big- it shocked you every time how he actually fit inside of you.

“Sorry for rushin’ baby, but I need to be inside of you,” He said quietly, “Just stay nice and quiet for me, okay?”

You nod, and he discards the underwear, and you hike your skirt as far up your hips as you can.

Balancing above you, he sunk his cock slowly inside of you.

“Harry, oh!-”

He slammed his hand over your mouth, keeping you quiet.

“Quiet, princess. We have company, remember.”

He stayed very still for a short moment, his cock still buried inside of you. He enjoyed watching you squirm, watching your eyes beg for him to move. Your sweet, sweet eyes. Those eyes he got to stare at while he performed, the eyes which were the last thing that he saw before he kissed you, and those eyes he got to see when he fucked you.

When he started to move his dick, thrusting his hips, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Darlin’” He whispered, “You open your eyes when I fuck you. Understand?”

You nod, opening your eyes again.

Harry was moving faster, his thrusts deep and hard. You had no idea it was possible to cum in five minutes purely from a man’s dick until you met Harry. He knew exactly what to do with your body in bed.

Your walls began to clench around him, your body shaking with every moment. By now you’d be screaming his name, but his hand was still firmly over your mouth. Any possible sound you could make was escaping through your nose as Harry’s dick pounded into you.

Harry’s bunk was small. It was crazy how little space this man needed to make you feel like this. This good.

“Cum on daddy’s cock.” Harry whispered. The tour bus TV was loud enough that hopefully they wouldn’t be able to hear the two of you by now, “Make a mess all over for me, baby.”

Harry reached for your clit, rubbing fast circles around your swollen bud until you reached your orgasm.

“Oh, god. Oh baby.” Harry groaned, indicating he was coming.

You moaned into his hand louder. The feeling of his cum filling you up.

“My sweet girl.” Harry moaned.

He felt so good.

So fucking good.

The thought of the others listening just made it all so more exciting.

[ms-demeanor]

Hi, this is maybe a pointless question where the answer is just "that's how life works," but how do you have energy for all the things you do? You seem to be constantly juggling 50 different projects and juggling them well. You create so many community resources, do deep scientific dives on your own time, excel at work, plus maintain social and familial relationships. I was able to maintain good work performance, a hobby, and social life for maybe six months last year before I burned out

The thing is I'm juggling it badly, it's just that you see the curated version here on tumblr! I've got probably five times as many stalled and unfinished resources/projects as I have completed ones, I am in a constant state of numbness/anxiety at work (since the new company bought us I'm really, really overworked and have been putting in 10-12 hour days pretty regularly - it's why my posting and writing here has dropped off and my fiction writing is basically not happening), and I'm actually a pretty shit friend because it's difficult for me to make time to communicate with people and leave the house.

My two tricks to make it seem like I've got it together are:

Just do a lot of shit. Some of it will get finished even if you end up with a ton of abandoned projects and if you do this at a high enough volume you can still get a lot done

Join some kind of club or regular hangout event; once a month I go hang out with the same group of people i've been hanging out with for twenty years and sometimes we'll plan things outside of that group and that's most of my social life.

I am also exhausted at all times but I've got the shark version of ADHD where I feel like if I'm not doing something I'll die.

I am probably deeply in danger of burning out but I've had the same "maybe if I get hit by a car I could take a couple weeks off of school without it destroying my life" feeling since i was 10 so it's hard for me to gauge if there's a collapse of any kind coming.

Have you ever tried to get yourself to sprint by falling forward and just putting your feet in front of yourself? It's like that, but I've managed to keep my feet under me so far. I'd say "if I had to deal with any obstacles it would make me fall flat on my face" but I'm actually more productive in catastrophes so. Who knows!

Mental illness. I think the answer is mental illness. I am not a healthy example to follow and I don't want people to think that the way that I act is A) Normal B) Healthy C) Effortless D) Sustainable.

I am just obsessive and weird and I don't sleep very much and I don't leave the house very frequently. I think things were better before the pandemic, when I was doing things with the band and could go to shows because Large Bastard wasn't immune compromised, but a lot has changed in the last five years.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Dialogue: Compliments

Compliment - a verbal or written remark that expresses admiration, respect, or praise for another person or group.

The definition of compliment includes the general expression of good wishes or affirmations on quality, as in the example sentence, “My compliments to the chef.”

Studies show that compliments can activate the brain’s reward center, promote positivity, and help build self-esteem and overall good mental health.

Types of Compliments

You can compliment anyone, from family members to coworkers to strangers on the street. Some compliments include the following:

Accomplishments: You can compliment someone about their past or recent achievements. You could compliment a significant personal win like reaching a career goal or a minor victory like guessing the word of the day on a challenging crossword puzzle.

Appearance: You can view these compliments as flattering comments about how someone looks on a particular occasion or about attributes like beautiful eyes, skin, or hair.

Creativity: Compliments about creativity might include kind statements about someone’s artistic ability or creative solutions to issues, projects, or problems.

Intelligence: When you compliment someone’s intelligence, you could give them a sincere compliment about a specific situation or playfully tell them they’re a smart cookie in a general sense.

Personality: Compliments about someone’s personality cover many areas and might include statements about the person having a great sense of humor, being a great listener, or always seeing the silver lining in difficult situations.

Whole person: You can compliment someone about how you view them, such as telling them they’re an awesome friend or a great sister.

Examples of Compliments to Give

The best compliments come from the heart and are unique and specific to the person you’re addressing. Consider the following compliment suggestions:

You have a beautiful smile.

You always light up a room.

I love your style.

That color looks great on you.

I love your sense of humor; you always make me laugh.

I’m impressed by your ability to stay calm and focused when things are stressful.

Your ideas are so innovative and fresh.

You’re always so helpful.

I appreciate your honesty.

I always have fun when I’m with you.

You’re stronger than you think you are.

I’m grateful you’re in my life.

You’re an inspiration to me.

You add so much to our community; I’m glad you’re here.

I admire that you always speak up with your opinion.

I always feel comfortable being myself around you.

You’ve brought such joy into my life.

I love how curious you are about how things work.

You’re such a good team player and considerate of others.

You’re so patient when dealing with others’ problems.

How to Compliment Someone

Giving a compliment might feel awkward at first, but with practice, you’ll experience the benefits of improved relationships and an overall sense of wellness. Follow these guidelines when giving a compliment:

Be specific. The more detailed your compliment, the more impactful it feels to the person receiving it. Telling someone they’re a good listener is lovely, but telling them about a specific time when they made you feel heard them feels more meaningful.

Embrace sincerity. Most people can sense when a compliment is insincere, so tell the truth when giving praise. Avoid giving compliments you don’t believe, such as telling them they’re attractive when you don’t find them attractive or telling someone they did a good job when they failed at the task.

Include strangers. Avoid reserving compliments just for people you know well. A well-timed and honest compliment to someone you don’t know can make their day, even if it’s about something simple. Avoid complimenting people you don’t know well on their physical appearance.

Notice the good things. Pay attention to your family, friends, loved ones, and coworkers, and note their good qualities and accomplishments. When you spend a lot of time with people, it’s easy to only focus on problems or negative issues that need solutions. Incorporate taking in the positive and giving compliments regularly to forge stronger connections and make a habit of noticing the good.

How to Respond to a Compliment

In some cases, you may find receiving compliments creates anxiety, especially if you suffer from low self-esteem. Follow these tips when responding to a compliment:

Avoid rejecting the compliment. Sometimes receiving compliments feels uncomfortable, making you impulsively want to give credit to someone else, turn it into a joke, or tell the person why you don’t deserve the accolades. Though you may feel all these things internally, do your best to avoid verbalizing your self-doubt, which could make the other person feel foolish or rejected.

Express your gratitude. Accept the compliment as you would a gift, saying “thank you.” If you wish, you can expand on your appreciation by adding how the compliment made a difference (either as a positive emotion or as an encouragement to keep going).

It’s about the giver as much as it’s about you. When someone compliments you, they tell you how your behavior or actions impacted them, which may feel like a vulnerable act for them. Remember that how you respond can have an emotional effect on the receiver.

Redirect compliments meant for someone else. If someone compliments you about an action or work you didn’t do, redirect them to the right person while supporting their desire to give a compliment. For example, if someone compliments you about a work project you didn’t do, you might say, “That’s so nice of you to say that! Actually, Kim completed that job. I’m sure she’d love to hear your feedback.”

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

saebyeok being absolutely pussy drunk over u and telling u, u can handle one more round bc she just can’t get enough of u

nsfw.

fem!plus size reader, wc: 433.

a/n: WOW a strong intro into a new fandom!! i'm so glad squid game is finally getting the love it deserves, and now i have a platform to write about my favorite character with!!

It was basically universal knowledge that Sae-byeok gives her all to the people that she cares about.

But when it comes to things like this, buried between your full thighs, she finds herself insatiable, greedy even. For the first time she takes and takes, because she knows you can handle it.

“Sae!” You cry out.

Your legs tremble around her head, one of your hands buries themself in her hair, which is left askew from your wandering digits. It doesn’t matter though, because her eyes are trained on your face, drinking in every reaction she’s pulling from you.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, and usually she’d pull off of you after a round of oral, and maybe pull out her strap depending on how the night goes; but tonight… oh, something about tonight was different.

She was ravenous, her tongue diving into you with an endless hunger.

Her long, lithe hands keep you pinned to the bed, her nails digging into your flesh every time your hips move too erratically for her liking.

“I can’t… I can’t –” You struggle with your words, your mind a clouded fog of orgasms and mindless pleasure. Finally, she pulls off of you, but with no mercy, a hand leaves your stomach to rub at your clit.

The noises your cunt makes are vile, downright filthy. It sounds like she’s playing in a puddle, and a dry sob rips itself from your throat.

“You can take it.” Her voice is raspy, as though she hadn’t spoken in hours. “I…” Your breath catches when her full mouth takes her clit in between her teeth, gently nipping.

“God!” Fat tears run down your cheeks, and her burning dragon-like eyes cut into you once more. Your end is rearing fast, and it hurts in a way that confuses you, because the hurt feels good. 

The overstimulation feels so good that you almost don’t want it to stop. Your hips buck onto her face, and she allows it, offering her own form of comfort by gently stroking your bare body.

“Sae…” You whine. “‘M gonna cum.” Your back arches at a particularly harsh suck, and you’re catapulted over the edge. 

Black dots your vision as you paint her face white, and you’re not sure how loud you’re being, but your throat aches, your chest heaving in an attempt to take back the air stolen from your girlfriend through your vagina.

Traveling palms were what you were brought down to, stroking your overly-exerted limbs from their achiness.  

“I want to go again.”

It’s going to be a long night.

[mallowmaenad]

just wanted to specify amd correct some things as an autist that watches my little pony like almost every single day, actually. No exaggeration. Anyway:

-The racism monsters actually only appear when the ponies are too racist to each other, though they are absent from G5 and their names are very close to an american indigenous word you are not supposed to say.

-I do think there are reasons why the G5 movie is bad related to the pony racism that I think is only made worse by tying it into G4 and I think people are more mad about that and the wiping away of the new status quo it does in the process than just "the ponies being racist"

-There is an episode where an envoy of yak diplomats comes to equestria and they try really hard to make them feel at home with pieces of their culture with the lesson learned being that they aren't able to understand the nuances of their culture and shouldn't try to imitate it and should instead share parts of their own culture with the yaks

-I don't think that episode with Yona was about subjugating her into pony culture it was a part of a wider plot to impress a pony boy she was going to like, magic-school-prom with by following pony beauty standards and manners with the lesson being that he doesn't care if she does and likes her for her

-its a fucking kids show theyre not "sending out missionaries" or teaching "superior pony values" its friendship its fucking friendship they're teaching people about friendship because Twilight Sparkle is The Princess of Friendship thats her fucking job to spread Friendship As A Concept throughout the realm thats why she built the school because seasons 1-8 was her learning about friendship and teaching others about it and became the Authority On Friendship in equestria she basically has a masters degree in being friends and getting along with people and wanted to build a school that taught these lessons en masse.

-there was like 1 guy on the school board who disagreed with the school being integrated who has a change of heart after being rescued by the main group of students the story focuses on in the school

And like, also, I don't think anyone is actually "racist" in my little pony if you look at what racism actually is, nobody is being systemically oppressed in equestria, there are episodes throughout the show written about things like unfamiliar people and situations, interacting with people whose culture differs from your own and other similar lessons and because the ponies are characters in a children's show and not real life adults. They are going to act in ways that we would deem inappropriate for an adult to act towards people who look or act different from them because thematically, they are demonstrating a situation that a child might encounter with less knowledge and emotional intelligence than an adult would have.

They don't for example, shun Zecora and spread rumors that she's a witch because the writers of MLP want to show that the mane 6 and ponyville are a bunch of backwards racists but to tell a story about how just because someone seems strange or scary to you at first because of the way they look and act, doesn't mean that they actually are. Later in the series they approach versions of this issue in different scenarios and angles and from the standpoint of writing a show for children, that's really good.

I think one valid point to bring up is what the series does with the character Daring Do who starts out as essentially, rainbow dash's self insert while fantasizing as she reads a series of pulp action novels Twilight lent her that was later just turned into a real pony which came with a lot of messy foibles, mostly, going from making her essentially a fictional pastiche of indiana jones in-universe to a pony that was actively stealing artifacts from indigenous cultural sites, and they do end up having an episode addressing this that I thought was very awkward and stilted because maybe it's difficult to teach about imperialism with kid gloves on, maybe the episode could've been written a lot better or made at a time that wasn't literally when the series was just about to end for good. Not to mention if it is even appropriate how they sometimes depict these indigenous people Daring Do is taking from.

There is racism in My Little Pony I think would be productive to discuss in a serious light, but this upset over children's cartoon characters doing things to set up lessons about why things like racism is bad or using such a heavy-handed term to describe things as light as a joke about a reaccuring pun or god forbid, wanting to teach people different from you about friendship is some outrageous overly-padded-video-essay type shit and I wish we'd stop making jokes about tumblr having poor reading comprehension and start actually improving our reading comprehension instead of cobbling together reasons to make fun of a cartoon because it sounds vaguely righteous and leftist on a surface level reading to a userbase that will agree with anything that sounds vaguely righteous and leftist.

i'm gonna be honest i don't get why they say everypony instead of everybody in mlp. it's not like the word everybody is human-specific. the ponies have bodies. the word everypony, however, is pony-specific in a world where ponies are not the only people in their society, which means it would be more accurate and inclusive to use everybody instead of everypony. it all makes no sense to me

[blog-o-meter]

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

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

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

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

word count: 25,005

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

Part 1 | Part 2

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

Over the next few days, the tension only grew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And God help me, he wasn’t wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What did I want? What would make me happy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I let him.

I let him because I was angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll lose everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I avoided him. I avoided everyone.

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

And then there was Valerie.

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pull it together,” I whispered to myself.

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

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

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nicholas, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you,” I mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” my mom whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Inside Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s Explosive Breakup”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Underwear, too?” he hummed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lavenders388]

Heyyy could you maybe write some nam-gyu(player 124) fluff like hes only nice to you and otherwise cold so he doesn’t seem week in front of the other players, there’s barely any nam-gyu fics😭😭

Thank youu💗💗

~Only For You~

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ Nam-gyu x reader headcannons

requested 💌

a/n i LOVED this idea so much i thought i would do headcannons instead so i can write more little scenarios and get more into it:3

<3 throughout his past promoting clubs he would try and act cool/nonchalant sometimes in a rude way with his customers and/or employees, and he learned acting that way left people wanting to learn more about what he was promoting/respect him more and so it ended up becoming like his work attitude in order to make his club events more successful. he explains all of this to you in the beginning of your relationship, reassuring you its just for the money and he doesn't actually stand by anything he says or does and wouldn't ever. when you join him at his promoting nights he would refuse to act that way to you even if it was in front of someone super important:3

<3 going off of the first one, i think nam-gyu would prefer that you don't come with him to any clubs. first mostly because he doesn't believe that that type of environment is super safe for you and he doesn't want to risk you doing any substances/getting addicted to anything; and because he doesn't want you to see how he acts in front of the people he's trying to get business from. he thinks that you're better than the type of people he hangs around those nights as well as he just doesn't think you to deserve to have to see that side of him!

<3 he is super soft and kind to you in private, ever since he met you he started to prefer that side of him and dislike the feeling of having a fake, boisterous personality in order to gain the respect of people he's trying to sell club tickets to. he's a lot more introverted and kind when the two of you are in private and he really starts to prefer staying in with you over going out all night.

<3 one of his favorite things is coming home to you after working and being able to completely abandon his day and everything that came with it and just be himself and relax with you. he absolutely melts into you and loves the energy you give off. lets you know how much it means to him everyday!

<3 he uses substances a lot to uphold his extroverted, cool guy persona because he eventually gets exhausted of all of the late nights pretending to be someone he isn't and finds that using is really helpful even though he knows its not a good thing. this is also something he begins to want to stop doing when he meets you:)

<3 he really wants to stop his club promoting life for a more simple life with you where he can just be himself and not do so much overextending, but worries that he wont be able to find a job that pays as much as promoting does for him. he wants to be able to spoil you and doesn't think it would be right for him not be able to do that financially. he doesn't want you to have to work at all unless you want to, let alone be anywhere near the breadwinner of the household.

<3 he ends up going to the games after hearing the prize amount because he sees it as like a forced detox in a way; like he'll be away from any substances and he wont have to deal with any promoting stuff, and then hed have the opportunity to make a ton of money for you.

<3 you also get the card and want to join the games in order to pay off both of your debts and have a decent start at a new life together. you agree to do it together and use the winnings to pay everything off and buy a nice house and even start like a little coffee shop together or something:)

<3 during the games his persona becomes a lot more amplified because instead of doing it for his promoting he's doing it for a ton of money as well as for the both of your survivals. he also starts going through withdrawal from the stress of the games as well as if he had been using before he went there. this adds to his motivation to fit in at all costs when he sees what thanos has in his cross necklace. he doesn't like that you have to witness any of this but he likes that it ensures your safety being part of thanos's group. he makes it clear to thanos that you're with him for the games and nothing can change that.

<3 he reassures you that his behavior with thanos is nothing more than his need to win the games for the two of you, as well as ensuring your safety within a group. he lowkey makes fun of him with you in secret to make you feel better!!

<3 he compartmentalizes the other players as just people in his way of providing you the life you deserve; that them losing is just the two of you getting closer to winning and safely going home. the pills help him a lot with this; he knows that humanity and kindness might ruin his chance of winning for you, and showing mercy for the other players would result in thanos loosing respect for him. he knows that sticking with him will be of great assistance in winning, and he'll do anything to preserve that unless its something to you.

<3 if thanos starts to say something gross or mean to you or about you, nam-gyu shuts that shit DOWNNN! but in a very calculated way to not make him question their allyship. he'll say something like "lets respect the ladies." trying to sound joke-y but still meaning it.

<3 during mingle that man does not let go of you for a single second. even if it means not going with thanos he lets his demeanor fall a bit if it ensures you stay with him and make it through the game.

<3 when the fighting breaks out he does whatever it takes to protect you. especially after getting them pillz from thanos he purposely loses all sense of feeling bad for his actions because it just insures your safety even further. before he does it he reassures you its for your safety and because he wants to give you the life you deserve, and he means it when he says he'll do anything to give you that. "please just trust me baby, this all for you. for us." he says to you as he leads you to safety before lights out. "if you need me call for me and ill be here. i love you."

<3 when you get scared during the games and in moments like that he allows his demeanor to soften even if people are watching him. he wouldn't want the last thing you remember him doing to be him not being himself and being sweet to you. se-mi notices but thinks its sweet, especially because shes doing the same thing as him; faking it to thanos to be in his group.

<3 inside and outside of the games all he wants to do is protect and provide for you and he would do whatever it takes<3

[murderofravens]

THIEF

pairing: the salesman x fem!reader

summary: he looked harmless enough. you should've known you were stealing from the wrong man.

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NON CON ELEMENTS but no actual smut, father issues, talks of abusive past (reader ran away from home) physical and verbal abuse, slapping, hitting and all that. age gap because of course, its my fic afterall. he's fucked up. that's it. read at your own risk.

A/N: shoutout to @muntitled for her incredible salesman fics and for inspiring me to start writing again. you're awesome.

the station seems colder today. your eyes twitch as you look around, analysing the people waiting for their next train. a woman sitting on a bench, reading. a few college students who probably are in more debt than you. a homeless man mumbling incoherently to himself while trying to light a match. a group of teenage boys laughing at something on their phone— you make a mental note to stay away from that side, for the sake of your own safety. the lightbulb flickers as you take a seat on the dirty floor, contemplating your options. that woman looks a good enough target— but with the layers of clothes she's got on, you don't believe you'll have any luck with her.

you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. you don't look up, merely focusing your gaze on the floor and pretending to be lost in thought. you've learned it's much easier to get away with pickpocketing if you don't immediately look at the person you're stealing from. something about not looking suspicious. a pair of shiny dress shoes stand by the train tracks— and you allow your gaze to trail up, up, up. this man has some long legs, you think to yourself. a crisp, stoney gray suit, and broad shoulders. a briefcase in hand and a seemingly innocent gaze looking around.

someone financially stable, judging by the expensive watch on his wrist. on first glance, you decide he looks like the kind of man who would be too tired or bored to run after you if he caught you in the act.

he'll be paying for your dinners for atleast a week.

as you stand up casually, you spot your target put on a charming smile and walk over to where the homeless man is warming his hands. you can't hear the conversation because the man's back is turned to you, but you can tell he is trying to advertise something to him. he opens his briefcase, and you catch sight of bundles of cash in it. you feel your heartbeat immediately picking up. your body feels warmer now; imagining a bright future for yourself if you managed to get a hand on the briefcase.

you don't bother eavesdropping in the conversation, you have other priorities. luckily, the woman on the bench was reading with her legs spread forward. you take the opportunity and stumble over her feet, losing your footing and falling forward with a loud cry— crashing right into your target who stumbles forward onto the homeless guy who lets out a string of curses.

"watch where you're fucking going!" he yells, and you're sure the woman behind you called you a fucking nutjob as well.

apologizing profusely, you put on your best sheepish expression and pat your target's back, helping him up. he looks at you strangely, giving you a tight lipped smile, and when you slip out his wallet from his back pocket, he doesn't seem to notice. before you can get a hand on the briefcase, he tugs it back and guides it towards the homeless man, engaging in another conversation with him. you're quick to walk away without another glance, swearing to yourself on your missed opportunity. but you suppose a wallet is better than nothing.

the first thing you do is run out and aim towards a crowded area you can disappear into. you open the wallet and pull out some cash— no identification, no credit cards. just a simple paper card with some symbols on it. it makes you wince. you thought with atleast an address or a name, you could've robbed him, but the universe seems to fucking hate you.

you eat some noodles from a street vendor. it's one of your favourites. in moments like these, you miss home. but you figure that having to steal and feed yourself is better than always having to walk on eggshells around your father— wondering when the next hit might come. or what other aspect of you would he decide to fixate on till you start hating yourself. you were tired of that life. this is okay, you'll deal with it.

it's when you're walking back to that rusty apartment you've started calling home that you feel a strange, prickling sensation on your back. so far, you always wondered if what people said was true— that you can tell when you're being watched. right now, you can feel it— this strange, unsettling fear that something is following you. you abruptly look behind, but there's no one there. you consider taking a short cut— but decide it's the stupidest thing you could do, so you just run home as fast as you can and hope whoever it is, doesn't catch you.

you feel victorious as you open the door to your place. as you step inside, something kicks you in the back of your knees and you yelp before falling forward, right on your face.

"what the fuck!?" you shriek breathlessly, scared out of your mind as you lean on your elbows and try to sit up. there's a haunting shadow blocking your doorway, and you can feel your heart begin to pound nervously as you spot the man from the station.

"you look at home down there," he says calmly, accent heavy in his voice. "rightful place for a thief like you."

your voice is stuck in your throat— eyes wide as you let out sharp, heavy breaths. does he know? how long has he been following you? did he involve the police? what is he going to do?

"listen, man." you start shakily, sitting up, "i don't know what you're talking about—"

as you try to stand again, his foot comes up and collides with your shoulder, sending you to the floor again, "fuck!—"

he doesn't let you up as you lay against the floor, his shoe painfully digging into your collarbone, "not only did you sabotage my job tonight, but you also stole from me. i don't like thieves—"

"i hadn't eaten in days!" you cry out, a hand coming up to grab onto his leg, eyes pleading with him to have some sympathy. you really try. "i'll— i can pay you back—"

"by stealing from someone else?" he asks, amused.

"no! god—" you let out a choked breath. you're scared out of your damn mind, it's obvious, but more so because the violence and humiliation you're facing now is what you ran away from home to avoid. you don't want this man to violate you. you're tired of being scared. "i can— i can do a job! anything! ill work for you or- or— i'm sorry, please—"

the man takes joy in your cries, it's obvious in the amusement in his eyes. he's enjoying the way you stumble over your words and make a fool of yourself. but after a moment of begging, he pulls his leg back and gives you a moment to breathe. you sit up, choking on heavy breaths, holding onto your shoulder.

"let's play a game."

you look up at him with bloodshot eyes— barely holding back tears. his hand twitches.

you're shaking. this man just had his foot on your shoulder, and he wants to play a game?

when he doesn't get a response from you, he continues, "it's called ddjaki. if you win, i'll give you cash." he opens the briefcase, smiles sinisterly as your eyes land on the object of your desires. "i saw you watching it, back at the station. such a shame your little plan didn't work, no?"

you grit your teeth, looking away from his taunting eyes. "and if i lose?"

"then i get to slap you."

your head snaps up— breathing getting heavy again. is this really what your life has come to? is it really worth it? you're back to square one— perhaps, you could leave your home, but the violence will always follow. the realization of your fate has a tear rolling down your cheek. you really try to sound tough when you gather the courage to speak again. "and why would i do that?"

"because you're desperate," he says calmly, leaning forward to brush the tear away with his thumb. the action has your heart fluttering for just a moment— many men have made you cry, but not one of them have ever wiped the tears. it's stupid. he quirks an eyebrow, settling you with a blank stare that shakes you to your core. "what have you got to lose, anyway?"

he's right, you think. would you rather take a few slaps and then live your life independently? or would you choose to live in fear about when you'd be on the receiving end of your father's wrath again?

you choose the former.

he explains the concept of the game and you get to choose the color of your tile— you pick the red one because it's your favourite color. with as much strength as you can, you try to flip his tile, but it merely jumps and then lands back like it was. it sends your heart plummeting down your stomach.

you know well what's coming next— it's all you've ever known your whole life. you flinch as his hand raises, but he stops midway. you tremble violently, eyeing his palm nervously. he eyes you curiously for a while, before another twisted smile appears on his face.

"you ever get hit before?" he asks, voice taunting. you swallow hard. "boyfriend?" he pushes his hand closer, making you flinch again. "ah, i know— father."

before you can snap at him, his hand collides with your cheek, making you let out a sharp cry. your face twists to the side and you take a deep breath— try to console yourself. it's just a game. he's not doing it out of malice. false promises.

you bite down on your lower lip to avoid calling him a fucking dickhead and telling him to rot.

he just smiles as he goes next. you pray to the gods he doesn't flip your tile— and thankfully, he doesn't. it makes you sigh in relief as he tosses a bundle of cash at your feet. you bend down to pick it up, "oh my god, thank you, thank you—"

he tsks, shaking his head, "game isn't over."

you go another round, and you win. you cheer heartily as you get another bundle of the cash tossed at your feet— and he sighs to himself. suddenly this game seems better.

you try to use your previous technique to flip his tile, and it doesn't work. it earns you another slap. it doesn't get better— you get as many slaps as you do cash. tears roll down your sore cheeks— they're heated and they hurt. you feel faint. only you know how much strength it takes to keep standing. you're sure your face will bruise tomorrow. he doesn't stop until you have half the cash from his briefcase. you can't hold back your sobs— you don't know what you're crying for. the cash, or the slaps? both, perhaps.

"you did good," he says, stepping forward and invading your personal space. his hands are warm as he cups your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears. you try to pull your face away, but one warning glare from him has you frozen in place. "look on the bright side, you decided to steal from me today and you earned some money. even if it came with a little beating. but you took it like a good girl, didn't you?"

his words should have you convulsing. you should be kicking him in the balls and hitting him with the nearest object you can find— but you're hypnotized— caught in a trance by his words of praise. against your better judgement, you nod, before shamefully averting your gaze.

he smiles tightly and steps away. adjusts the buttons of his suit jacket and looks around before going to the couch and sitting down. "why don't you go fetch me a glass of water?" he stretches his arms, shoots a provocative smile your way. "all this exercise has me feeling thirsty."

you want to tell him to shove his exercise up your ass and leave, but you decide to do as he said. you're in no position to threaten him. he's much stronger than you, and judging by everything else, much older as well. men like him are not easy to fool. and you really don't want to get hit again.

as you pour him a glass of water, you eye his briefcase again. if you could somehow manage to perhaps weaken him for just a moment— you could get all the cash and maybe run away. you would spike his water but you don't have any drugs. you have to do this the hard way. you pocket a fork and then head back to deliver him his water.

as he drinks, you kneel by his feet, gathering your cash. carefully, you pull out the fork, and with as much strength as you can, slam it down onto the side of his foot.

"you little bitch—" he groans loudly, wincing and throwing his head back and clenching his jaw before splashing the water from the glass on your face. it makes you squeal. before you can attack again, he pulls the fork out and tosses it to the side. your eyes widen and you rush to get it, but he sticks his leg out and you trip and fall on your face again.

a crunchy sound emerges as he steps on your wrist, his shoe digging into the delicate appendage. you let out a shrill cry.

"the one thing i hate more than thieves—" he snickers, looking down at you like you're an insect. he scoffs, twisting his shoe harder, making you choke on a sob, "is a little girl who thinks she's smarter than me."

"fuck you!" you sob, squirming on the ground, "let me go!"

"watch your language with me." he hisses back, narrowing his eyes. he glares before releasing a breathy chuckle, "you are the stupidest girl i have ever met. you were doing so well too. did you really think you could overpower me?"

"you hit me—" she sniffles, groaning in pain as she attempts to yank her hand back, "you hit me and you—"

he interrupts with a taunt, "maybe if you tried acting so smartly with your father, you wouldn't have had to run away from home."

you gasp before letting out another pained whimper, "how did you—"

"it's written on your face." he sighs, exasperated. like he's dealing with a toddler, not a girl who stabbed his leg. "if i let go of your hand, do you promise not to get hostile again?"

you glare at him silently through teary eyes.

"do i have your word?" he says louder, twisting his foot again.

"yes, yes—" you yelp, and with careful thought, he steps back. before you can make a move, he leans down to grab your hair and yanks you up. it makes you hiss in pain. he shoves you towards the couch.

"all this fighting has made me excited," he remarks with a chuckle, crowding you in. your eyes widen and you crawl away from him to the farthest end of the couch. he follows you like a predator, palming the front of his pants, and the realization of whats to follow makes you shake your head, "no- no, please, god—"

"shut the fuck up," he snaps strictly, voice eerily composed. he grabs your head, looks down at you with those black, empty eyes, his free hand carelessly unbuckling his belt. "you didn't think i'd let your little stunt go unpunished, did you?"

"you can do anything else—" you choke out, shaking her head. he yanks your face forward, makes your cheek press against the tent in his pants. you can smell him. you desperately try to latch onto any semblance of comfort you can find. "anything— anything but this, you can even slap me again—"

"hitting you is no fun if you're asking for it," he replies boredly, tugging your head back just enough so your teary eyes blink up at him pathetically. "i want to really rub it in this time. what happens when you mess with men like me."

you want to fight more— you wish you could. you desperately want to, but you feel frozen with shock. this day has turned into a nightmare you couldn't imagine even in the worst possible time. it's like everything you have done till now to avoid horrible, violent men, is laughing at your failure. you blink a few times, as if trying to wake yourself up.

"i've never done this before," your voice cracks as you voice your last attempt at begging for mercy— does he not have a heart?

he pauses and eyes you for a moment, and for a millisecond you think he'll reconsider. but then his mouth twitches, and your heart breaks as soon he pulls his pants down.

"even better."

A/N: this was more psychological and self indulgent that i expected, lol. i'm still not very well versed with smut, so i thought i might put this out before i try. feedback is always appreciated. i love him so much even though he's horrible. i guess that's what them father issues do.