#next guy pls have better aim

[astro-nomaly]

Apparently Trump was just shot at a rally??? Funniest thing to happen all year good for the guy that did it

[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.

[cxvii666]

omfg i’ve been binge reading all your sero shit PLEASE it’s so good😭😭😭🙏🙏

can i scrimp some crumbs of college friend sero 🤲🤲 the way you write his smug ass has me spirallingggg and now i’m stuck thinking about what it would be like to have a friends w benefits type situation w him (pls im just a bitch down bad for a man who teases😔)

hehehehhehe 😝😝😝 how bout some coworker sero, ur both tired underpaid overworked students with nothing better to do on ur breaks

i might do more of this bcos coworker sero 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫

it’s disgusting back here.

hot as hell. fluorescent lights flickering like they’re about to die. the tile is sticky. there’s a mop bucket in the corner that’s smelled like feet since last tuesday. you’re half-sitting on a plastic crate of off-brand soda syrup because all the chairs are taken and the only fan is aimed directly at the pastry case like it deserves to live more than you do.

and sero hanta—busboy, menace, gum-under-the-table bandit—is standing in front of you, chewing on the end of a straw like it's candy.

“you got something on your cheek,” he says, leaning in like he’s about to help. he doesn’t. just stares at it. smirks.

you flip him off.

he just grins wider. “damn, i was gonna get it for you. real sweet-like. real gentleman shit.”

“you’re not a gentleman,” you say, flat.

“nah,” he agrees. “but you like me like this.”

you do. unfortunately.

there’s something about sero that’s always a little off-kilter. a little frayed at the edges. like the gum he chews is also holding him together. he’s got an apron slung around his hips like he forgot to tie it, sleeves pushed up, sweat at his temples, and a half-finished order ticket stuffed behind his ear like he’s pretending to be organized.

he’s got this whole casual slouchy thing going, but you know better. you’ve seen the way he shifts when customers get nasty. the little smile that shows up when someone’s yelling and he’s pretending not to hear it. the way he walks through the kitchen like he’s part of the walls, but still knows every conversation happening behind them.

you’ve kissed him behind the walk-in cooler.

twice.

and once in the dry storage. and once in his car after a double shift when you were both still in your aprons, smelling like fryer oil and bad decisions.

technically, that last one wasn’t just kissing.

you’ve never talked about it. it’s not that kind of thing.

he’s not that kind of guy.

you’re not that kind of girl.

“how’s your section?” he asks now, leaning a hip against the sink like he owns the place.

you shrug. “dead. table seven asked if the lemonade had sugar in it.”

he snorts. “did you lie?”

“obviously.”

he tilts his head. “you’re hot when you’re morally bankrupt.”

“you’re hot when you shut the fuck up.”

he gives you a look at that. eyes low, mouth twitching. and then he’s stepping forward, one knee bumping the crate you’re perched on, one hand braced against the wall next to your head. just a little too close. just enough to feel it.

you tilt your chin up. don’t move.

“you got something to say?” you ask, cool.

“nope,” he says, all teeth. “but you look real pretty when you’re pretending you don’t wanna be kissed.”

your stomach flips. annoying. predictable.

you hate that he’s right.

“who said i’m pretending?”

that’s all it takes.

his mouth is on you in the next breath—hot and reckless and impatient. not romantic. not careful. he kisses like you’ve both got five minutes before someone walks in and asks for extra sauce.

your hands find the front of his shirt. tug him closer. he groans into your mouth, low and familiar.

his fingers drag up under the hem of your shirt, rough from dishes, cold from the soda machine. yours slide down the curve of his spine, tug at the waistband of his apron.

you bite his lip. he laughs.

“jesus,” he mutters, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“you started it.”

“nah, babe,” he says, breathless. “you did. with that little ‘don’t talk to me’ face. with your lip gloss. and that dumb little walk you do when you’re mad. you’re evil.”

you grin against his mouth. “you love it.”

he hums. “i’d love it more if you were sitting on my lap right now.”

you arch a brow. “we’re in the back of the restaurant.”

“yeah,” he grins. “adds ambiance.”

you roll your eyes. kiss him again.

it’s filthy. it’s messy. it’s way too hot back here. the clock above the fryer says you’ve got seven minutes before you’re supposed to be back on the floor pretending you care about soup specials and credit card tips.

his hands are on your thighs. your hair’s a mess. your apron is halfway off. you’re both a little sweaty and out of breath and glowing with something that feels like a secret.

you pull back just enough to whisper, “you’re gonna fuck up my makeup.”

he just smirks. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you shake your head. push him off with a palm to the chest. he steps back, still smiling.

“clock’s ticking,” you say, smoothing your shirt, like that’ll help.

“yeah yeah,” he mutters, adjusting his apron like that’ll help.

he’s already halfway out the door when he glances back and adds, “hey.”

you look up.

he winks. “come find me on your twenty. i’ll make it worse.”

you don’t say anything.

but your lip gloss is already smudged.

and your mouth tastes like him.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter Twelve

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

Today I started book 2, (book three should arrive tomorrow. ofc because I am a big nerd about this, I will post a photo when it comes in :'3).

Ah, as a side note, I do feel like I am betraying today; this is NOT tea but it is a really good espresso latte. (I am so sorry tea stash).

Let's get into chapter twelve!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"what could this be?" My guy! You are being kept, wifed, courted. That is exactly what that, maybe-pure-diamond-ring is. p11

Oh no. Xie Lian was summoned. Summoned to meet Jun Wu. I am so nervous that this guy is going to be punished again. His track record with Jun Wu is not so good. p12

I really sort of love how catty these officials are. Like same girl (non-gendered), this is literally me gossiping about upper management at work LOL p15

I'm so glad he checked in about the human face disease boy. I still miss that little dumpling. p17

OMFG. Are they about to put this entire General Pei Jr situation on Xie Lian? If so, I am already mad about it. Preemptively pissed if you will. p19

Shout out to (who I'm assuming is) the wind master for speaking on Xie Lian's behalf. p25

oh goodness. Now Xie Lian has to talk to Jun Wu privately. RIP my boy! p29

Oooo! Setting the stage for our next mystery. We have an immortal in mortal (heh) peril. p34

Even better! It's in his boyfriend's domain; Ghost City! p36

"Please don't say it like I'm a little Princess who's never left home" sweet baby girl, but your are a little princess :'3 and that is okay <3 p36

Hell yes! Mission with the wind master! They seem cool, I really hope I don't regret liking them. p39

Fucking YES, and they're both going under cover. PLEASE I hope it's in drag. p42

OMG I already can't handle this opener ^-^

I am literally so excited for Xie Lian to travel with the wind master- hopefully- pls pls pls- in drag. These two gender expressive twinks truly deserve to do what the vibe tells them to.

[bryce-bucher]

500 CALIBER CONTRACTZ Post #14

WISHLIST IT PLZ!

NPC Guy:

As you can see in the pictures above, there is now a guy. Lately I've been trying to get better at 2D digital painting, and it dawned on me that it might be kinda cool to make the friendly NPCs in this game lowpoly dudes with hand painted textures.

Initially I drew up this face and tried to make a model to fit it, but I realized quickly I needed to not cut corners and actually, like, design a character first.

I went back to the drawing board (literally omg) and drew up this guy to serve as a factory worker NPC. After that I got to modelling/ texturing. After both of those were done what do u know I got a new guy wow.

Quite a fun process.

New Desert Zone:

I whiteboxed a new little area to the left of the desert night club. This is essentially a little zone housing the hideout sphere of the nefarious dr spider. I don't know what else to say about it.

Steam Page:

The steam page is up!!! I've been pretty excited to get the page up if for no other reason than the art I commissioned for it rules. The key art was done by турбожаба and I am super happy about it. I gave them a reference render for the perspective / lighting and they returned it to me a masterpiece

Pls wishlist it btw. It helps out a good deal.

Conclusion:

It's been pretty hard for me to get work done the past few weeks, so I'm happy to finally be making progress again. I had to go to the ER for chronic stomach issues (I'm fine) and deal with some other troubling events. Anyway, I'm gonna aim to have a demo done by feb so hopefully that'll happen. The next thing I'm gonna get done is implement Dr.Spider himself. Hope u look forward to it and have a good day.

[poetlus]

livvy this summer vent is so cutie core and also happy 600 as well mwuah mwuah kisses from me and my 599 other burner accounts 🥰🥰🥰 for your event may i get summer fling! ❤️‍🔥 + my lovley bakugou prettt pls 💋

hihihi toke thank you sooo much!!!! i thought this one was funny, and i hope u do too!!!!!! i <3 OUR lovely kats

Summer was your all time favorite season. It was a season for outdoor activities and having fun. Going to the beach combined both of these. You could truly do anything at the beach, and today, you were going to sit in the nice warm sand and read.

You got to the beach around 12PM and set up your spot. You placed your towel down in the warm sand and had your beach bag with your sunscreen, tanning lotion, snacks, a drink, and of course, your book. You laid down on your stomach and propped your sunglasses on your forehead, as it wasn’t bright enough to put them to use.

Around 12:30, a group of people that looked to be around your age set up next to you. There was a public volleyball net nearby, and you figured they wanted to play some beach volleyball. You shrugged it off and put your earbuds in, hoping to drown out their noise.

Another hour went by and it was getting especially hot, so you put your book down, put your sunglasses on, and sat up. You looked over to the group, and just as you suspected, they were playing volleyball. You watched them all play—you were sort of a people-watcher— but one boy in particular caught your eye.

He was blonde, muscular, tall, and honestly? Your type to a T. You watched more of him, and he seemed pretty loud and competitive, striking the ball down on his friends (opponents?) with all the force in the world. They seemed used to it at this point, which was kind of fun to watch.

Then, you realized you might have been staring too hard. You turned back to your book and began reading, although the blonde’s yelling was bothersome.

Not even ten minutes later, you heard a girl yell, “Heads up!!”

You didn’t think they were talking to you, so you ignored them.

“Hey, you! The one reading!” The familiar and loud voice yelled. That got your attention. As soon as you looked up, you were hit with a hard force, right to the forehead. You were shocked by the sudden pain, and held your hand to your head.

The group came rushing over, all of them except the blonde.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” The girl asked.

“Yeah, that looked like it hurt..” said a red haired boy.

This was your worst nightmare.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.. I just.. I’m sorry.” You pretended to play it cool and shrug it off, although the lense of your sunglasses popped out. You took them off to save yourself the embarrassment.

“I’m sorry about Bakugo.. he can get a little competitive when it comes to games like this. I don’t know why his aim was so bad— usually he aims for our heads.” One of the group members sighed, making you laugh. Then, you heard a voice from behind.

“Hey! Maybe listen next time and that wouldn’t have happened! Don’t you pay any attention?!” Another blonde boy hurried over to him and tried to hush him, saying something along the lines of, “You can’t say that to a stranger!”

You stood up and wiped the sand off of you. You were not about to let this guy talk down on you.

“Yeah?” You retorted, “Well maybe if you didn’t have such shitty aim I wouldn’t have to pay attention.” The boy, Bakugo, gritted his teeth.

“Like yours is any better!” He said, pushing past his friend and walking directly up to you. He was now face-to-face with you and you could see slight freckles and scars along his face.

“I bet it is!”

“Well let’s find that out, huh?! Since you think you’re so much better than me!”

“Fine!” You said, looking right into his crimson eyes. He was even cuter up close, but you weren’t about to let that cloud your competitive spirit.

“Fine!” He shouted back at you.

The two of you played against each other for the rest of the day, and ended with a tie. 10-10.

“This isn’t the last time we’re playing, you hear me?” Bakugo said between pants. By this time, you were both worn out. “You better be back tomorrow, and then the next! So I can beat you!”

You smiled. Sounded like a date.

[therantsofawriterrr]

The Umbrella Academy Final Season: My Version

Part Six: We Put The Extra in Extra Ordinary

Overview: With their powers restored, the gang gets new information, a new friend and decides to go on a road trip.

TW: mature language, mention of throwing up once, tell me if i missed anything Pairings in the chapter: a little bit of Diego x Lila, a teeny bit of Five x OC A/N: hello, first of all, tysm for all the love you've given this series, I'm thinking of opening up a taglist for this series, if anyone wants in, pls comment, tysm again.

Masterlist

There were specific ways that the Hargreeves got to know that their powers were back.

Diego was the first one to notice. He hadn't slept properly the previous night because he was being too alert for some reason. He was driving the mail van, and threw a box at a house, landing it correctly in the mailbox. He whipped his head to the road in disbelief, looking at the house again before going back to get an envelope. He looked at the address and threw it at the window, sending it straight through the mail slot.

"Yeah!" he cheered, with a fist pump, going back down to get more envelopes, throwing them out the window to get them all into the right houses with the utmost accuracy. He was groaning in excitement, happy tears welling in his eyes at his aim being perfect.

Next was Five, who just felt very tired, and he felt like someone was somehow searing his bones. He was watching the last locations of the Thibedeaus in his office, drinking his black coffee when Derek came in, with their files filled with their histories and everything. He placed it on the table with his lips set in an angry line.

"I better not get into trouble for this, Mr. Five," he muttered.

"You won't," Five mumbled back, too swept in the pain in his body. "Don't worry."

He felt the ache in his legs intensify, so he stood up, deciding to read the files that way. As soon as he did, though, his head spun and he stumbled forward, his eyes closing for a split second as he saw a flash of purple. When he opened them, he found himself in a weird subway.

His eyes flicked around the grey walls and the ticket counter rods. "What the..." he softly let out, when he was sucked back in, seeing a flash of purple once again, and then falling back into his chair in his office with a grunt.

Derek came back in, as he groaned, his back pain heightened. "You feeling okay, Mr. Five?" he asked with concern.

'No, I don't think I am," he said weakly. "Tell the boss I'm taking a sick day."

He felt like throwing up when he took his coat and went out the door, but the brisk, cold air outside grounded him a bit.

Allison was in an audition, trying her best to play the part and ignore the mounting headache. The guys looked a bit skeptical, but she was desperate.

Please, just take me in. Even a minor role's fine.

There was a golden ring around her pupils all of a sudden and the all the men's eyes changed, turning all white before they grinned and clapped.

"That was amazing, Mrs. Chestnut! You're perfect for a role we have on the movie. It's a small one, but you'll be good for it."

Allison froze, stunned into a stupor before she excused herself and ran out the building in a frenzy.

All in all, their powers led to a problem, and the old group chat got active again. They'd made it so that they could stay in touch with each other, but that hadn't worked out. Though, at that moment, it was a godsend. They decided to meet in the Hargreeves Home For Wayward Boys, a place that they'd used to frequent if they'd needed to let some anger out.

It was probably supposed to be a condemned building, but they guessed it wasn't because finally, it belonged to the old man himself.

Diego and Lila were arguing loudly when Viktor had reached the place, which was filled with dust.

"Someone explain what the hell is going on here, quick," he demanded, silencing the couple.

"Well, Viktor, that's what we're all trying to figure out," Five said dryly.

"Luther, hey, you alright man,?" Diego asked, while Luther clutched at his gut.

"Yeah, I just... I don't know it feels like body's burning inside out," he choked out.

"Yeah, same, I feel like someone injected motor oil into my veins," Five said, as everyone except Klaus agreed.

"It's so strange. Because I, for once, feel fantastic," Klaus stated with a smile. "Sure, I woke up to see about a hundred ghosts just hanging around, but they were very nice. Went out after just a little bit of small talk."

"There are ghosts in my house?" Allison asked, lifting her head from the edge of the couch in surprise.

"Yeah, apparently there were a lot of suicides in the basement because there used to be a really, really bad ghosty living there, but I drove him out, don't worry," Klaus said, batting a hand dismissively with a reassuring smile. He had found the aggressive spirit in the bathroom and had just wiggled his fingers to get them out.

"Oh, you think you got problems?" Lila asked, a panicked edge in her voice. "Look at this,"

"Wait, no!" Diego yelled before twin green laser beams erupted out of her eyes, going through the area of the house, causing everyone to cower under their arms. The beams jaggedly cut through a few things as Lila blindly spun halfway.

When she stopped at the window, she blinked, pinching her eyes closed and then opening them again as Diego stared at her with a mixture of adoration and frustration.

"She broke our kitchen cabinet with that," he rasped.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled and when she started spinning back to her original position, the lasers started up again, and she stumbled, like the lasers were too heavy for her head.

"Turn it off!" Luther screamed.

"I don't know how!" She screamed back.

There was a small blip, and then her lasers were gone. Everyone in that room panted, their ears ringing, as Lila's eyes stung worse than the time when someone had used hot pepper sauce to defend themselves.

She sighed as her vision seemed to come back, the green flashy haze disappearing. "There," she declared, as Diego got back up and everyone got to their seats. She started to notice the damage she'd caused. "Oh, sorry about that."

"Be careful," Five told her.

"How do you do that?" Diego asked curiously.

"A gun to my head, I couldn't tell you," she replied, still trying to blink the sting away.

"Y'know, if Dad finds out about this he's gonna ask us to pay him," Luther speculated.

"I don't give a shit about Dad. I want answers now!" Viktor declared angrily, as raw, glowing, orange power thrummed around him, surrounding him in a small whirlwind.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," everyone exclaimed, holding their hands out to calm him down as Klaus instructed him to breathe.

Ben burst in, looking panicked and frenzied. He was holding his shirt from the back, and when he let it go, two tentacles fell out. Everyone stared at it as Ben looked around.

He trudged forward sadly, moving toward the couch. Allison, who was sitting there, moved out of his way as he moved the tentacles and sat down.

"What is with the tails?" Diego asked, being the first to break the stunned silence.

"I don't know, they won't go back in!" he exclaimed with irritation.

Luther meddlingly touched it with a finger, which prompted it to hit him in the face. "Oh!" he exclaimed, touching his face softly. "God. Why is it cold?"

"The real question is, why would you touch it?" Lila asked.

"No, it's, how the fuck do I have my tentacles back?" Ben said. "How are our powers back?"

"At least, Klaus isn't a human sippy cup anymore," Five stated dryly.

"Oh, wait, yeah," Allison jolted. "Klaus. Do we like, need to keep an eye on you or something?"

"Nah. I have my powers under control now," Klaus said, sitting down beside Ben.

"You sure?" Diego asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I'm not going back to that old Klaus. I like this Klaus. 'Hey, he collects coupons. He's frugal, respectable, reliable,'" he stated proudly. "And most importantly, he's a Klaus that Claire likes. And trusts. And looks up to."

Ben's stomach started rumbling, as he started to gag a bit and threw up straight on the floor. Everyone exclaimed in horror and concern as Klaus pat his back.

Suddenly Five's phone rang, and Viktor slapped his hands to his ears immediately. Upon accepting, Clementine's voice filtered through.

"Where are you?" she asked, huffing a bit, probably walking somewhere.

"Tina, I can't, right now, alright?" he said, about to cut the call.

"I went back to Gene and Jean's house!" she announced, albeit in a soft voice. "And I found something."

"Yeah, well, I took a sick day," he told her.

"Me too. Look, you need to see this, alright? Just give me your loca-"

Clementine stopped speaking and walking, staring at the guy who'd just passed her with a stupefied anger, feeling the phantom lingering of his groping hand on her behind.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he drawled with a predatory grin. "Couldn't resist that ass."

Her anger only increased. "Who the hell is that?" Five asked.

"Just hold for a second," she said plainly, as she swung her leg back and the forward, hitting the guy straight between legs. The man grunted, falling to his knees.

"Sorry, sweetheart." she said with a sweet smile. "Couldn't resist kicking those balls."

Then, she continued walking, restarting her sentence, "Yeah, so just send me your location and I'll get there."

About fifteen minutes later, she exited her car, ran to the door and knocked, waiting to be let in.

Five opened the door to see her all disheveled with a cut on her head. It was still bleeding, flowing down the side of her face and dripping onto her hoodie. His eyes softened immediately with concern.

"What the fuck happened?" he asked, pulling her inside the building by her arm.

"Huh?" she asked, before realization dawned. "Oh. That. Yeah, I got into a fight this morning. I'm fine."

She walked past him and opened her mouth to speak when she froze, seeing as there were other people there.

Five closed the door and walked to stand beside her with his hands in his pockets. "So? What'd you find?"

"Uh. There's people here," she declared, returning Lila's smile and wave.

"Just tell me," he said impatiently.

"Fine," she muttered exasperatedly. She took a jar out of one pocket, and a paper from another. The jar made his eyes widen though, as it did with the whole family.

"What the fuck?" Viktor said first.

"Guys, is it just me or are those two teeny tiny things flying around inside looking like the stuff that's not supposed to exist here?" Klaus asked, pointing a finger.

"No, but what the fuck, though?" Lila asked, mirroring Viktor.

"Where'd you get this?" Five asked, taking the jar in his hands and inspecting it.

"Gene and Jean's house," she replied. "It was there on a table. Trust me, I was just as surprised."

"What's that paper about?" he inquired.

"It has an address of this dry cleaner that's in my area. I know the guy, but he started acting weird yesterday. I think he might have gotten into the cult."

He took the paper from her hand, fingers brushing hers for a second before her eyes went black and she stumbled back a little.

"Whoa, whoa, what the hell?" Allison said just as her eyes returned to normal.

"Christ, Five. You need therapy," she said.

"Okay, what just happened?" Diego asked.

"My powers acted up," she said. "For the fifth damn time this morning."

"Whoa, wait, hold the phone for a minute here," Lila interjected. "You have powers?"

"Yeah. Look, I'll tell you more, but we need to get to the dry cleaners fast. We might get more info, plus, I really don't want that sweet guy to get caught up in all that cult business."

"I'm holding you to that. But, are you saying that the Keepers might actually have something to do with this?" Lila asked, gesturing vaguely to all of them.

"Seems like it," Five murmured. "We need to go to this dry cleaners to get more information."

"Agreed. I'll drive," Diego said, Lila behind him as he started walking. Five started going out with him, Clementine following closely. "Let's roll, mofos."

"Come on, let's get him out of here, quick," Klaus said as he helped Ben up, holding his tentacles up.

"Watch the tentacles." Ben murmured.

Allison started going too, as Luther hissed as he got into an upright position, seeing Viktor being the only one left with him.

"Hey," he said. "You okay?"

Viktor shook his head as he ran a hand down his face. "No, not really."

"I know. Come on, let's figure this out together," he said as Viktor nodded and went out with him.

Another few minutes later, they were at the dry cleaners, Clementine exiting first and running towards the shop, her wound now covered up with a pink band aid with flowers on it.

Diego and Lila were arguing again as they entered but, they soon went quiet when they saw it was empty.

"Mr. Grossman?" Clementine called out, a tinge of desperation in her voice. "Sy? You here?"

"Well. Looks like nobody's here," Allison declared.

"Or, somebody got to him," Five speculated, getting a paper of a clip, looking at it. Clementine looked at it over his shoulder with her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Look at this, New Grumpson, Maine," Five announced, showing it to Diego.

"The hell's in New Grumpson, Maine?" Diego asked.

"Maybe the Keeper's main branch or something," Lila answered.

"Or maybe that's where our dry cleaner scampered off to,' Allison contemplated.

"Or maybe this is all one big setup," Viktor declared.

"No way. This is Sy," Clementine said. "I know him. He isn't that kind of guy."

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Five said decisively.

"Hell yeah," Diego said, taking out his keys. "Road trip."

"Are we really doing this?" Viktor asked wearily as they went out the shop.

"Hell yeah, we're doing this," Diego replied.

"You do realize we have three small children, yeah?" Lila asked dryly.

"Yeah, well they're going to be at your parent's house for Christmas, remember? We'll just talk to them on the phone, tell them what we're doing, and we'll be set, okay?"

"Yes," she said, before pulling him back again. "But wait, that's not the point."

"Listen, listen, listen. We spend all day, every day with our kids. I mean, even you parents tell us to go have some fun somewhere while the kids are with them. Christmas is the only break we get to have our own time, right? So, come on, we need to find out what this is. I want you to come with me, all right?" Diego finished, holding her face up tenderly at the end of his speech.

She sighed, looking at him cutely. "Well, that does sound nice."

"Right? Just you and me. Like the old days. And... we'll be able to call our kids too."

After a few more seconds of contemplating, she agreed. "Okay."

They got in the car, with Clementine on the back with Luther and Ben, as Lila, Allison and Klaus sat in the front. Five sat in the passenger seat while Diego drove.

As they got on to the driveway, their only thought was, what could go wrong?

And well, we all know, that when it came to the Hargreeves? Everything could go wrong.

Another A/N: Again, i'm glad y'all love this series haha. Also, comment if you want in on the taglist <3 Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!!! Tysm for reading❤️🩷💜

[arobinwithoutbatman]

((Aaaaaaaallrightyyyyy comics time~ We're starting the Knightfall saga today and I'm doing the entire saga not just Tim's stuff so I have extra context.

Pray for me, y'all.

Prelude... oh okay Vengence of Bane

Okay, talking about a coup in the Carribean *and torture! Lovely!*

...so a literal newborn is to serve his father's sentence... *purely because he's a boy?! And his father was named in the coup?!* Given the torture, there's every chance that he wasn't involved the victim was just saying names!

Basically raised in prison and went lowkey mad in solitary confinement and after a coma. Almost like traumatic brain injuries have a chance of completely changing someone's personality -.-

...god damn, Bane sure improved! That's kinda terrifying

And now he has an obsession with Batman. This can only go badly

OH! Illegal human experimentation! Why the fuck not?!

Aaaaand he's now all set up in Gotham and wants to kill Batman and is impressed that he doesn't kill. Huh

-----------

Huh... Bruce and Vicki broke up. Shame

Oh hey Sionis, nice to meet you. Can't wait for Jason to destroy your empire later down the line

Sionis backstory too... kinda sad really but also dude don't use your dead dad's face skin to make a new mask. That's gross

Oh shit! Lucius!

------------

Oh! Blonde dude is Bruce in disguise! Nice! Didn't even catch that until now!

Also, why is Circe dressed like that? I get the mask, she suffered from the whole facepaint thing, but basically naked? Why?

Also, waists don't work like that!!!! Has she been wearing waist training corsets? Obviously not recently, they picked her up off the street, pretty sure she's been homeless this entire time. Did they know what a woman looks like?

Oh wait! I just realised! Bruce proved himself with a gun! Great aim! *Bruce hates guns* God damn, he really sells it when he's undercover... is he okay?

Also... what is with this art style? Tim is thirteen, maybe 14 at most and he looks like he's Bruce's age

Oh damn, Bruce actually admitting he's not in his prime and starting to slow down. And Jim's potential marriage is in trouble...

Awwww Bruce calling it early for Tim cause he has school

...that wasn't Sionis? What the actual fuck is going on?

-------------

Bruce Thomas Wayne you will speak to Alfred with a civil fucking tongue in your head

Also, for the love of God get a therapist! This counts as hurting yourself my guy!

Awwww Jack is doing better! And Tim is about to suggest acupuncture when Jack hates needles... welp

Who the fuck is walking around at night in a knock off pinhead cosplay? And killing people?

And this is still teh damn *prelude?!*

Yeah time to rest and recover, Bruce

-------------

Bruce. For the love of God. Go to therapy. You are stressed and traumatised.

Oh shit Jim's got a hit out on him

And his wife is worried

Yeah Bruce is not doing well...

Lunch break!

-------------

Okay... military school brat

Robbing the armory. Mkay

Okay so the point f the prelude is... massive city wide gang warfare... plus potentially Arkham related bullshit

------------

....Bruce... Bruce for the love of God... I'm begging you. I know Gotham is kinda falling to pieces for the millionth time but pls. Take a break

I'm sorry, this General is still a *child?!*

----------

...his name is Ulysses and even his family other than his mother want him gone. What the god damn

-------

First meeting of Azrael. Cool

Hawk of the Wilderness, Tim you goober

Hm, Tim training Jean-Paul as... a replacement Batman so Bruce can actually take a break?

...it's actually grapnel? I always thought it was grapple???

FINALLY The man tries therapy!!!!

-------------

Whomst the fuck is hypnotherapying a dude into jumping off a ledge?!

Dealing with a break in at Wayne Tower while Bruce and Lucius try to figure out what secrecy is going on

Ope, Azreal losing control. Oh and hypnotherapy dude again! ...oh shit he's going after the people heading up the 3 sections of this secret project

Which means Lucius is next! Oh fuck!

---------------

Aaaaaannnndddd Lucius is on teh bridge being encouraged to jump into the river believing it's from his dad....

Also Bruce Wayne, I will remind you again to *speak to Alfred with a civil tongue*

Okay cool they figured out it was hypnosis and Azreal caught Lucius

---------

...fuck me, how many more issues do I have of just the prelude? Cause this is the only thing I get to today at this rate cause I still wanna write things!

Oh hey Killer Croc

Oooohhhh no Bane's gonna show up while Jean-Paul is in the Batsuit trying to handle Killer Croc. His programming is gonna kick in. This isn't gonna end well for *anyone*

Oh okay Bane took out Killer Croc and immediately clocked that it wasn't Bruce under the cowl... welp

And Bruce is having god awful nightmares with the sedatives but he won't sleep any other way poor guy

-----------------

Aaaaaaand Riddler's back

I'm sorry, Riddler once tried to *sacrifice Batman?!* Jesus Christ!

Welp, Riddler was high af and apparently Bruce has been on venom before which sucks

Riddler got shot too and Bane is still testing Bruce

-----------------------

Am I dont yet? [348/375] Uuuuugggggghhhhhhhh

DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE RELEASE THE CLOWN. DON'T DO IT, JACKASS

And Tim is cutting Jean-Paul's hair

And now everyone's loose and poor Jeremiah has had a total break from reality thanks to the trauma

--------------------

Good grief that was a lot! So uhhhhh guess it was kinda ambitious to try and do all of Knightfall in one day

[randomxiwi]

What do you think about the fact that the second season of the Hazbin hotel was leaked?/Что думаете насчет того, что второй сезон отеля хазбин слили?

I really didn't see or know the leaks, but I heard that Alastor was african and had a moustache while he was alive, and I heard snippets of a Rosie and Alastor song.

I never got much into the Hazbin Hotel fandom. I have seen the pilot and mostly watched season 1 by youtube snippets.

In my most honest opinion (Pls don't kill me Hazbin and Viziepop fans) Hazbin Hotel season 1 was kinda rushed and there are things that could be improved, allow me to ramble (I know that you have just asked me about season 2 leaks but I have to tell someone this).

Good things of Hazbin Hotel season 1:

The premise itself is interesting enough.

The songs are quite good and the voice actors did a great job.

Sir Pentious, do I need to say more?

Adam as a character at first glance is decent.

Rosie and Alastor's friendship.

How the figure of Lucifer is portayed.

Carmilla Carmine and Zestial.

Things that I think that could be improved:

The characters designs, personally I think that it could be improved, I cannot know what the sinners are supposed to be at first glance (Looking at you Angel Dust, Charlie and others), and most of the main cast have a similar colour palette to the surroundings, making them hard to differentiate.

The storyline felt rushed, it can be confusing for those who never saw the pilot. Also the basic premise is a hotel which redeems sinners, so I think that it would be better if they just centered on this aspect for the first season before getting to all the heaven stuff and also give the viewers a basic introduction to hell.

The songs were good, but the manner that some of them are inserted in the series are too rough, they just start singing without any hints (Like a background melody getting gradually stronger).

The three V's would have worked better as season 1 villains.

Adam and the exorcists would have worked better as the big hidden menace on posterior seasons, and Adam's character needs more development (He doesn't have much depth, like you're the father of all humans, how do you feel about humans being horrible or the fact that you had two exwives and one of your two sons killed the other son?)

Vaggie's angel reveal felt too suddenly, it needs build up.

Charlie lacks a bit of backbone. It's not wrong to be an optimistic dreamer pacifist, but you're supposed to be the princess and probably the next ruler of hell and you know how horrible sinners can be, so why are you letting guys like Valentino licking your arm without conseqüences? I know that Charlie is supposed to be sheltered, but even most sheltered people can snap if their boundaries are pushed too far. (This may be biased).

I need uncanny demons, like none of them look too threatening, I need them to be a bit uncanny and creepy.

The humour is just sex, drugs and curse words. Compared to other adult shows such as Metalocalypse and Smiling Friends or even media aimed at kids like TAWOG, it's mid. You can be funny without those.

[blog-reflection]

ONE / Twenty Four - Somewhere in Between Something

I don’t know what to do.

Seriously I have no Idea what I am supposed to do now. I never thought this strange trick from Lucia would’ve actually been useful. Stuff like this only happens in movies or some sort of teenage growing up relationship thing and I am sure as hell that I ain’t in such a story. Against all laws of a clear mind I skipped the message and took an investigating look at his profile. His picture showed him at some kind of party. Lots of lights and people everywhere. He wasn’t standing, but sitting, the ground was blurry in the background. He sat on the top of a bench which was leaning against a small wall, one foot stood on the bench while the other one was laying all out. He was holding a lighter and just stared at the flame. It’s a really cool picture if you ask me. The name was the same, Green Otter. I highly believe that Otter isn't his second name but I also couldn’t figure out what it could be. His pronouns are he/him, but I’ve already known that one from the cafe. There was also a status he filled out. 

“somewhere in between something”

I’m not sure where that is aiming at but I like the sound of it. And that was kind of it. He didn’t have any information in his profile besides an emoji of an otter. I get it though, they are cute as hell. So, if we gather all the information we know that his name is Ethan something Green, He’s a tall blond guy who works in a cafe near school grounds. He likes otters, which is a cute fact to know and he likes to go to parties. That isn’t really what I assume as much information but well it has to do. After I scanned his profile I decided to look at his message and at least to give him an answer. I don’t know what I’ll write so I guess I’ll be freestyling that one. 

Discord conversation 

@GreenOtter Today at 9.50pm

Hi If I am honest, I don’t really know how to start this. I found this user tag on one of the bills from today. I am sorry but I can’t really pin it down to a person just yet. There has been a lot going on today so I thought I would use this opportunity to get my mind off work. My name is Ethan by the way, nice to maybe meet you(?) hope I didn’t make this strange!

@Fallen_Jam Today at 10.07pm

I…I don’t even know what to say too. This was the Idea of a friend of mine. She wanted to connect us somehow. I guess it worked. My name’s James, nice to meet you too Ethan. 

Well that went better than I anticipated. I told Lucia all about what just happened which facing the fact isn't a lot to be fair. Nonetheless Lucia was already rooting for us saying that that is the first step into something that can be a relationship. If you can’t tell, she’s manifesting it and I am not sure whether or not I like that. She is all over it, literally. Lucia is such a sucker when it comes to anything that involves even the slighted spark of romance. I never fully understood her to be honest. I think I only ever loved one person, which fucked me up. Twice. But she doesn't know him. Only Jesse does. I asked Lucia if it would be cool for me to crash at her place for the night, which she thankfully agreed on. Yes I know I wanted to visit Jesse but I don’t really in the mood to drive this late. We both finished up the pizza and got ready for bed. 

Let’s see what tomorrow holds. 

(Today has been shorter than usual due to personal issues, I still wanted to keep you guys up to date. Pls don’t be mad, next thursday will be just as usual)

[laughingpinecone]

Candy hearts exchange 2024 letter

AO3: laughingpineapple (double-checked a-ok for treats as per the recent AO3 update blah blah)

Hello and thank you for writing for me! I hope you’ll have a great time playing with one of these wonderful canons!

I love a wide variety of fics - from the most delicate gen to explicit, any tense, any format, big yes to all kinds of weird experiments up to and including interactive fiction. In general, I love canon expansion (showing new places in the setting or exploring those that are barely mentioned, just outside the borders, and ditto with events), character work of all stripes (expanding on little quirks, putting characters in situations that complement/challenge certain personality traits of theirs, just... observing these weirdos as they live their lives, for better and for worse), magical realism and adjacent approaches. I eat up emotional moments with a spoon when a fic is character-centric (danger! catharsis! hurt/comfort! the nitty-gritty of attraction!) and also love abstract stuff that is not character-centric at all: fake academia, a wider focus, inhuman povs, anything goes.

For both romance and friendships, I love it when it’s clear (not necessarily to the characters themselves, but to the narrative) what they like about each other, how they get along, if and how they trust each other, what’s annoying but worth it, what flaws of the other are they or are they not well equipped to handle... The specificity of each dynamic! I also love it when the characters are very into something that makes sense for them, be it a hobby or a kink or whatever, even if it’s something I may not personally care for.

For art, I love when characters are doing something. I much prefer a simple illustration of a moment in their lives (basic examples: sharing coffee, walking together) to a more ornate symbolic illustration like eg a tarot reimagining.

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children,  pregnancies, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents and paired-up OC randos are okay!), canon retellings  

GHOST TRICK

Alma/Cabanela/Jowd: Jowd navigating the "whoops turns out I'm bi" part of the whole thing is always fun Alma/Jowd: what's their dynamic, exactly? I'm open to many possibilities, for example an Alma who's just as much of a cosmic pessimist as her esteemed husband! Cabanela & Pigeon Man: unexpected intergenerational friendship of my heart, Cabs is A Lot and Pigeon Man expertly wrangles him. Guess he’s good with birds Cabanela/Jowd: please let them be intensely ridiculous about their attraction Emma & Jowd: double menace pls Jowd & Pigeon Man: what sparked PM's unshakeable devotion toward Jowd? Alma/Cabanela: fashion! and legs! Clothes swap? Some time on their own?

PYRE

Bertrude/Pam: they get each other quietly… anything based on their paired ending, especially Downside? Ignarius & Oralech: I’d just like to weaponize Iggy’s fascination for big survivor demons and point it at an unsuspecting Oralech, for fun Oralech/Tariq: beyond the Scribes' vision… Oralech/Volfred: Downside reunion! How do you let go of all that mis-aimed anger AND mourning? Volfred & Pam: here's a guy who's very pragmatic about reaching his idealistic goals, and a gal who's a trained agent. Or maybe just two teammates after a rite. Volfred/Tariq: Tariq's small attempts at defiance?

DISCO ELYSIUM

Call Me Mañana & Steban: that time when Steban tried to talk Mañana into joining the group and it sounded like he was hitting on him (at least according to Harry, who is, on occasion, an uncannily accurate judge for this sort of thing) was fun! What about a second meeting between them, or would Steban be willing to just sit next to him and talk? DJ Flacio & DJ Mesh & Kim: I just want Kim to meet his loud, vulgar, communist-leaning (according to one line in reply to Harry, at least) heroes. Maybe after he got his shout-out? (Harry and Kim/Harry welcome if you want) Liz/Cindy: Things got very real very fast for Liz at the tribunal, can actual gang member Cindy help her through it or make things worse? Dros & Nilsen: bitter, cancelled old codgers, how unpleasant could they get? I like to picture Nilsen's ghost bothering assorted leftists in the game and Dros could do with the company… Uli/Steban: a Wirrâl session turning intensely homoerotically charged? Anything else turning intensely homoerotically charged (looking at the canon slap, it's kind of what they do)? What Mazov/Nilsen parallel do they see in themselves?

SACRED AND TERRIBLE AIR

Khan & Nilsen: as one of Elysium's famous disappearances (as per a stray line by Lilienne in the game), Nilsen should by all means be part of Khan's special interest. Khan who, for his part, dresses as a dialectical materialist, so did he like what he was reading about Elysium's Most Cancelled? Khan & Tereesz & Jesper: any exploration of their strange, frayed friendship, the ways in which they care for each other, their breaking points, how they're all called to the void… Khan & Zigi: does Khan find him, at the end of the world? Or is Zigi forever out of reach, beyond even the totality of the pale? Or does Khan manage to reach Rodionov's Trench at last, in dreams or otherwise? Mazov/Nilsen: they held hands… any exploration of any part of their lives (first meeting? Nilsen's return from his feral hut era? Reunion in the pale?) and their beliefs and their opposite responses to defeat? Lund sisters & Rodionov: party at the heart of the pale! Tereesz & Frantiček the Brave: echoes, archetypes, feeling the weight of dead revolutionaries and joining the ICP, the same story happening again, once as tragedy twice as farce… Zigi & Nilsen: ngl I need seven seasons and a movie of these two. The dialectical angle is great, the embodiment of the core dialogue between communism and nihilism, the imaginary frenemy angle is great, the ghost story is great, the concerning amount of applicable Breaking Bad memes is also great, and so on…

FULL CORE STATE NIHILIST

Esteban/Hulio: political posturing and transgressiveness bleeding in and out of actual queerness. Any exploration of nihilist, petrofascist Innocentic seat and global superpower Mesque is welcome, as well as the characters' approach to nihilism vis-à-vis Ambrosius'!

PENTIMENT

Gnaziu/Baltas: I love Baltas' whole thing and seriously what is UP with Gnaziu. I thought I'd missed some plot but he's just… hanging out there? How does he spent his days over at Baltas', in this little village so far away from home… Magdalene & Andreas: post-canon letters, maybe even a collaboration on some book to print? Otto & Ulrich: they were my act 2 faves and I just think they're neat? ;^; to Tassing's martyrs, to their kindness…

[ssentimentals]

dating dino feels like…

having best friend and lover all in one. being friends first is important for him, he needs a solid foundation before taking things one step further. he fell in love with you slowly, uncovering you layer by layer; your appearance lured him in, but it’s your heart for which he stayed.

('do i look good?' you ask, nervously looking at your boyfriend. 'should i change into something else?'

chan smiles, shaking his head. your fussing over meeting his friends is cute, but he doesn't get why you're so nervous. 'my family won't care about your outfit, i swear.'

'first impression is important!' you argue, frowning.

'and you will make a striking one, i promise.' chan comes closer, hugging you from behind. 'first they'll think you are pretty and then they'll get to know you and will realize why i am so gone for you. your smile is pretty, but your heart is prettier, believe me.')

chan’s image can be found next to “chivalry” word in a dictionary. he’s doing it all: opening the doors, walking on the side of a sidewalk, putting coat on you when it’s cold out, pulling out chair and you better let him, because for him those little acts speak volumes, they help him convey his feelings for you in a subtle way. he gets a bit lost with words so actions work better for him.

('you do know, right?' he suddenly asks and you look up in confusion, not understanding what he’s means. 'that I love you. you know that, right?' he starts stressing when all you do is gape at him in shock and continues: 'i just- i think i forget to actually say it, you know-'

'you say it to me all the time,' you interrupt, looking at him seriously. 'every time you bring me my favorite takeout, every time you go out of your way to be there for me, every time you message me asking if i'm alright or if i slept well. channie,' you cradle his face in your hands, 'you say it to me all the time. and i hear you.' the smile he gives you is full of gratitude and affection. 'but you still can say it more, you know.' you tease, making both of you laugh.

'love you, i love you.' he rambles, attacking you with kisses.)

dates with chan are either super chill ('you, me, takeout and netflix sounds good, doesn't it?') either super fancy ('bought you hundred and one roses, because you deserve them and because they show my love nicely'). he likes to mix up, selfishly and a bit childishly wants to be your first one in everything, wants certain places and emotions to be associated with him and only him.

('you look awfully smug,' you comment, when you both go out of the very popular and hard to get restaurant. 'what is it?'

'nothing, i'm just happy that your first time here was with me,' he answers honestly, taking your hand in his. 'now, for you this place will be linked to me, always.')

chan is 'what's on your mind? tell me everything' and 'your problems are my problems as well' kind of guy. he strives to be your favorite person to go to, his mission is to be on your speed dial in case of emergencies, his aim is for you to feel like you are never ever alone and with him it really is like that.

dating chan is like jumping and knowing that you won't fall because on the other side everything is already laid out for your safe landing. he makes you feel like there is nothing to fear in this world, that friendship is the biggest gift but love is the biggest reward.

a/n: when i say that chan is not even close to being my bias but he IS in top3 of best boyfriends in svt list - does it make sense? do you get me guys? pls tell me that you do, this boy is the bEST!! anyway, here is the link to my other works, come say hi <3 - nini

tag list: @pearlygraysky @woozionascooter @smalliechelle @jaetaimjadore @yeow6n (please let me know if you want to be added!)

[outerbankies]

new light blurb: just for me — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: someone asked for rafe picking up drunk!y/n from a girls’ night but i literally deleted the ask when i meant to answer it, so

warnings: alcohol/she is very drunk

“My baby’s here!”

“You have a baby? Are you pregnant? Y/n/n, we’re drunk right now.”

“No, like my baby, Rafe. He’s right there. That’s my baby.”

Rafe takes one look at your face as he approaches your table at the bar, and he can instantly tell that you’ve had a night. He should’ve guessed by the barely legible text you sent to summon him (bby boyoooo pls come get me blythe said i needs go home n i wnat nachos). The way you immediately fall into his side once he’s within distance is just further confirmation. “Hey, sweetheart. Hi, girls—Margot, good to see you.”

“You too, Rafe,” your friend slurs. “Like the new hair.”

You reach up excitedly, so much so that you stumble further into Rafe’s side, running your hand over his buzzcut. “Okay, right? Doesn’t he look super hot?”

Margot just shrugs and nods approvingly, missing her straw with her mouth a few times.

“Okay. I’m gonna get this one out of here. Do you two need a ride?” he asks Margot and Blythe.

“No, Top’s coming. We’ll drop Margot off,” Blythe says, looking the most sober out of all three of you, which puts Rafe at ease.

“Want me to wait with y’all ‘til he gets here?” Rafe asks, eyes not leaving your face even though the question isn’t for you.

“No, he’s on his way. We’re fine,” Blythe waves him off. “See you guys later. Please make her take her make-up off.”

That’s good enough for Rafe, but he feels better once the two of you are outside and he spots Topper’s Jeep pulling up, too.

You’re stumbling down the street next to Rafe like a baby deer on a frozen lake, cooing once you spot Topper’s car, too. “Look at him. He’s such a good boyfriend. I love Topper.”

“Um, hello? What about me?”

“What about you?” you ask, seriously, pulling the both of you to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Dude, my feet hurt.”

“Your own good boyfriend brought your flip flops in the car, dude, which we are very close to,” Rafe reminds you patiently.

“Too far,” you say, shaking your head. “Gimme a sec.”

You hold Rafe’s arm while you start slipping your platforms off. Rafe rolls his eyes with a smile, readjusting the arm he had around your waist until you’re secure enough to be lifted off the ground.

You yelp, giggling. “Rafe!”

“I’m not letting you walk down the street barefoot. You’d kill me tomorrow if I let you touch the carpet when we’re home,” he explains, towing you along. “And my truck is literally right here.”

“You’re so strong. Big boy,” you giggle, letting out a hiccup. “With his big truck.”

“Get in the big truck,” he says, letting you down and opening the passenger’s side door.

“Yessir,” you say, making no move to actually do so. Rafe figured you’d do as much, already helping you inside.

“I want that seatbelt on by the time I get in, sweet girl.”

“Okay. Wait, I forgot,” you say, looking at him in panic.

“What? Forgot what? I have your purse—”

He’s cut off when you pull him in for a sloppy, giggly kiss, pulling back to smile before smacking one more on his lips, then patting his head. “Alright. Good to go.”

“You’re too much. Seatbelt,” he commands, wiping your lip gloss off of his lips (and chin, your aim might’ve been a little off) as he circles around his truck to get you guys out of there. “How was girls’ night?”

“So fun!” you gasp, like you just remembered what you were doing earlier. You lean closer to him over the center console, your seatbelt almost put on correctly. “Oh my god, so fun.”

Rafe reaches over, making sure the chest strap is actually across your chest before starting the car. “I can tell—you’re comin’ in hot.”

“You’re hot.”

“Thank you,” he laughs. “Oh, hey.”

He nudges your elbow off the center console, opening it to present your water bottle. Your eyes widen. “M’obsessed with you right now.”

“Drink some for me, will you?”

“Aye aye,” you salute, doing as he asks, managing to only let a little of it dribble down your chin. Rafe just smiles and shakes his head, finally pulling away from the bar.

“What’d you do while I was gone? Also, can I have another kiss?” you request.

“I’m driving. Next red light, promise.”

“Fine,” you concede, sounding like you just committed to a business deal.

“Just worked on your bookshelf all night.”

Rafe had taken one look at the bookshelf you wanted to order online for your new place and scoffed, telling you to give him a month and he could make you an identical one, but with better wood that’d last forever. He’d been parking his truck in the driveway for weeks now so he could free up some garage space to work on it.

(You secretly hoped it’d never be done, fully resigned to leaving your books in their current stacks on the living room floor by your desk if it meant you got to watch Rafe build you something, wearing an old t-shirt and listening to his dad music. The new buzzcut and scruff was a definite plus to the entire look.)

“Wait, you’re so cute,” you whine. Rafe looks over at the next light, and your lip is wobbling. “I love you.”

“I love you. Please don’t cry,” he laughs, leaning over. “C’mere.”

You get your promised peck, reaching up and kissing his forehead, too, before he has to focus on the road again. He doesn’t bother wiping off the lip gloss this time.

“How’s it coming?”

“Good. I think you’re gonna like it better than the one on the website.”

“Of course I am,” you agree, giving him a dopey smile. “You made it.”

“You are bombed right now.”

“So?” you slur, attempting to unscrew your water bottle again. “What’re you gonna do? Call Shoupe on me?”

“Maybe.”

“S’long as you bail me out after,” you concede, finally remembering you wanted to kick your shoes off.

“You got it?” Rafe asks, after you struggle for a few seconds.

“Erm, just—yep,” you sigh, finally relaxing in victory. “So much better. But you’re gonna have to carry me inside now, too. These aren’t going back on.”

“Wear more comfortable shoes next girls’ night,” he laughs.

“No more girls’ night,” you shake your head.

“No?” He raises his eyebrows. “I thought you had fun.”

“Nuh-uh. Missed you too much. You always know the best drinks to order me.”

Rafe squeezes your knee, feeling fond. “Just text me next time, baby. I got you.”

“I know,” you smile, before furrowing your eyebrows when you notice what street he’s driving down. “Bestie, where are we going? We don’t live this way.”

“First of all, I’m not your bestie.”

“What? Yes you are,” you argue. “You’re my best friend, Rafe. You told me I was yours, too.”

“Yeah, you are,” he says in assurance. “But you call everyone bestie.”

“I just have so many. You’re all my besties.”

“Right,” he nods. “But not me. You call Kelce bestie. I’m not on the same level. Call me something else.”

“Whatever you say, baby boy,” you say, laughing when he rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t claw my way out of the friend zone after all this time just to get called bestie,” he grumbles.

“Ew, Rafe! I told you that’s gross,” you accuse.

“I know, I know.”

“But seriously, where are you taking me? I’m tired,” you groan, looking out the window and then pointing your thumb behind you. “And our house is that-a-way.”

“I know it is. But Papi’s is this way.”

“Papi’s?” you gasp in excitement, sitting up straighter. “Are we getting food?”

“Yes,” he says, playing along and matching your enthusiasm. “I called in your nachos before I left to get you.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, you said you wanted nachos, right?”

You lean over the console again, your cheek kiss landing closer to his ear. More lipgloss. “I really love you. Did you get veggie?”

“Of course I got veggie. Who do you take me for, Y/l/n?” he teases, pulling into the parking lot. You didn’t say anything back, and Rafe looks over at you again when he finally parks, sighing when he sees your watery eyes. “Baby, what did I say about crying?”

You sniffle. “You got me nachos.”

“I did.”

“And I love you.”

“You do.”

“And you’re perfect.”

“Well—”

“And you’re building me a bookshelf.”

“I am.”

“And you love me?” you ask, looking serious. Rafe resists rolling his eyes, because—what a stupid question.

“‘Course I do.”

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter 39

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

I am so excited it's Saturday!!!!

It's even better because Monday for me is a holiday which means three days at home in storm snow doing nothing but cooking good food, making art, and reading :'3

In other news the notebook I started to blog these chapters is almost full! I can't believe it made it through all of SVSSS and to this point in TGCF with this guy, but this means I need to get a new one. If anyone is into stationary and knows of some cool independent or small business/artists who make notebooks pls comment and let me know! I would love to get something unique but also support someone.

Let's get into chapter 39!!!!

It makes sense that the creature is not using it's own form, really it should be expected. If I was going to do some nefarious shit that I knew would 100% piss off a god AND I had another form- absolutely I would be using it and keeping safe. p201

uuuuuugh. The symbolism of Xie Lian cutting down an image of his younger self. p201

omg. The faces being those from Yong'an who died in the drought. This is horrible. This disease keeps getting worse every chapter. p202

Mu Qing's plan is terrible 'just curse them back', like how is that helpful? Everyone would just be suffering. p204

My heart! The babes fighting; Mu Qing and Feng Xin. I just want them to kiss and make up. p208

What the fuck. Qi Rong being under the bed this entire conversation. So weird. LOL p209 I feel like this is going to come back and I don't know how Qi Rong is going to use this information/knowledge of the cure.

Another chapter of Xie Lian having an existential crisis

We know how this ends but I still don't know how Xie Lian gets there. At no point in this journey did I know what was going to happen next and this chapter is not even an exception with the random earthquake and the giant golden statue of himself coming to life to save the city from sure devastation.

[todoscript]

how he would ask you out

request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺

characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character

tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader

author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write 

copyright 2021 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.

what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.

you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.

you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.

initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.

however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.

at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.

appalled… but also very grateful.

eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.

no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.

shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.

however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.

unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.

keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.

although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.

that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.

his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.

“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.

through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.

it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.

without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.

the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”

you blinked. “y-yeah..?”

“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”

shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.

“i’d love to.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.

every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.

it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.

at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.

he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.

but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.

always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.

it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.

tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.

even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.

to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.

she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.

the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.

you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.

luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.

“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”

upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.

“uh… well–”

“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”

after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.

“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”

tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.

as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.

“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.

unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.

with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.

“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”

it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.

finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”

nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”

“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.

bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.

unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.

the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.

the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.

noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.

hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.

“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.

“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.

“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”

he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”

at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.

mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.

you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.

rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.

but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.

“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”

there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.

midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.

todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.

todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.

but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.

after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,

“but i’m not sure how to do it.”

though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.

“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.

“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”

midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”

pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.

despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.

that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.

“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”

listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.

he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.

eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.

through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.

“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.

“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.

that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.

“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.

“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.

“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.

the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”

nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.

when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.

the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”

“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.

“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.

“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.

[pantoneyoongi]

see you with her

title ; see you with her  guess i should stop thinking about you all the time

notes ; 

part of the till the night is over drabble series. drabbles are not released in chronological order, but the masterlist is set up as chronologically as possible. :) 

title is from tori kelly’s “all in my head”

for any readers who are following along by release order (and not via the masterlist / chronological), please note this one happens well before the last release from tuesday!! ^^

word count ; 3.1k

tags ; drinking, jungkook having borderline offensive tastes in pasta (but like just for the funsies), a bit of fluff this time, taehyung is a sweetheart for real, hints of jealous kook!!, pls go to masterlist for more / general tags 

“you know tomorrow’s still a school day, right?” 

jihyo stares at sana, who is tipping back a concerningly large amount of alcohol. sana, seated on the floor of her dorm, slams the empty cup onto the ground, grinning widely back. 

“i,” she throws her arm out in a grand sweeping gesture. “don’t have lecture tomorrow. professor canceled.” 

yerin leans close to you. “so what’s jeongyeon’s excuse?” 

jeongyeon is tipping back shots like she has a second liver. quite frankly you’re just impressed sana and jeongyeon managed to hide this much liquor in their dorm room without alerting the ra, but you make a couple of vague noises before looking back at your friend and shrugging. “beats me.” 

your phone alerts you with a text from jungkook signaling he’s outside, so you clamber up to open the door for him, only to be met with a faceful of his chest as he immediately swings his arm over you, tugging you back into the room. “hello,” he sings, as you stumble backwards, barely managing to shut the door and lock it before he’s dragging you further into sana and jeongyeon’s tiny little dorm. 

he smells like fresh laundry, with just a hint of peaches. the cotton of his hoodie feels incredibly soft against your cheek, and you shouldn’t lean into him, but you can’t help it. he smells good and he feels warm and you don’t want to pull away. 

“you guys started without me?” he laughs, when he sees the flush of pink across your friends’ faces, the way sana’s eyes are already starting to glaze over a little. you turn to look at him as he speaks. you should regret it immediately, but you don’t ever really think straight around jungkook, not when his weight is pressed comfortably against you like this. you forget how tired you are of him, how angry you are all the time, how you should throw his arm off your shoulder and remind him again that he has a girlfriend and that he can’t keep touching you like you’re his and he’s yours. 

but he’s smiling, bunny teeth poking out, doe eyes sparkling in amusement, and your whole world stops for just a moment, enchanted by the way he surrounds you wholly. 

the moment is interrupted violently by sana launching a pillow straight into jungkook’s face. 

sana, for the amount of alcohol she’s already consumed, has strikingly good aim. it’s kind of a running joke - a sober sana can’t aim to save her life, but a drunk one? astounding accuracy. 

jungkook, infuriatingly so, manages to swipe it out of his way before it can hit him square in the face. “hey,” he complains. “what was that for?” 

“you hey,” sana retorts childishly. “get your hands off y/n. you have a girlfriend now.”

jungkook shrugs. his palm brushes across the span of your shoulder before he fully lets you go. sana narrows her eyes but you pretend not to notice his lingering touch, moving to sit back down next to yerin. 

the group devolves into their usual nonsense - sana (very drunk) and jungkook (very sober) bicker over the superior shapes of pasta while jeongyeon falls asleep in yerin’s lap. jihyo sighs at the way jungkook purposefully prods at sana, who goes off on a tirade about how rotini is leagues better than farfalle (she’s right) but jungkook simply shrugs and says farfalle is shaped like cute little bows and therefore is better. 

you’re about ready to doze off yourself, idly watching whatever sana and jeongyeon have playing on their tv, when sana suddenly shouts. jeongyeon’s head shoots up and narrowly avoids smacking yerin in the face, shocked awake. 

“what, what?” yerin pingpongs between every person in the room, trying to figure out what the cause of the ruckus is. 

sana points at you. “who’s taehyung?” 

you feel every person in the room’s eyes land on you. but your eyes immediately snap to jungkook, while everyone else is shifting and waiting for your answer curiously. jungkook raises his eyebrows back at you. you look away first, eyes darting around the room. jeongyeon is wide awake now, jihyo straightened up from her place on sana’s bed. 

you groan, throwing yourself backwards onto the floor, sprawling out in the limited space. “he’s just a friend,” you drag out the syllables, voice raising louder to drown out the immediate overlapping shouting from your friends. you swear sana and jeongyeon are about to get a noise complaint down to the ra. 

“just a friend,” jungkook’s voice carries through the noise. “i’m surprised you never brought him up, though.” 

you lean up on your elbows. you wonder if you’re just imagining it - the jealous undertone, the way he stares back at you like he’s waiting for you to make your move. daring you to promise everyone that taehyung really is just a friend. 

you don’t want to play this game. you push up into a proper sitting position, leaning back a little to prop yourself up on your palms. “i forgot,” you shrug carelessly. the room is eerily quiet after all the hubbub from before. you match jungkook’s gaze levelly when you say, “i’ll admit he’s cute, though.” 

jungkook tenses, and you hate it. he brings out the worst in you when he’s like this, but all of it is instantly buried under the avalanche of questions your friends have for you after that particular confession. you so rarely have an interest in other people - people who aren’t jungkook - so everyone wants to know. what’s he look like? what’s his major? where’d you meet? 

“just bring him to the festival next weekend,” jungkook chimes in casually. “i’ll bring jisoo. you can all meet her.” 

just like that, jungkook knocks you back into place, reminding you of where you stand. there’s no way jungkook could ever be jealous of taehyung - jungkook has a girlfriend, for god’s sake. you must’ve imagined it all - the careful way he framed his words, the edge to his voice, the flash of displeasure when you called taehyung cute. 

taehyung, who by all means, genuinely is just a friend, even if he is unbearably hot and oddly attentive. 

a friend, also, that you now have to find a way to invite to meet all of your other friends without sounding weird about it. fuck. 

.

.

.

you’ll chalk this one up to taehyung’s friendly nature. he agrees readily to joining you at the festival - doesn’t even bat an eye at the question, even suggests going together with his friends instead of struggling to find each other there somehow. which would explain why you’re treading across the grass now with four boys in tow, trying not to reveal how painfully awkward you actually are. curse taehyung and his ever-charming grin, he’s the one who got you into this shit. can’t he tell by now how generally averse you are to social situations? 

to make matters worse, his friends are just as devastatingly handsome as he is. jimin had greeted you with a sweet smile (then promptly enveloped you in a hug, and yeah, okay, he smells really good) and hoseok had simply not stopped talking since you met him. only yoongi is relatively quiet, looking just as aggrieved to be here as you feel. 

“yoongi lost a bet,” taehyung whispers in your ear, while hoseok is still telling an extravagant story about… well, you’re actually not sure what about. “we had to force him to come here this early.” 

“i’m a senior,” yoongi gripes, having overheard him. “what could they possibly do that is new this year?” 

“come on now,” hoseok pauses mid-story to enter this conversation with ease. “this is to celebrate our pride and joy for the university, yoongi.” 

you’re not really sure if he means it or if he’s being sarcastic. but the glare yoongi gives him makes you snicker, while jimin throws an arm around both of them. “this is to prepare to get wasted later,” he declares, and jimin looks like the kind of guy who would pass out after approximately two drinks but you get the feeling he can really tank them. you haven’t decided yet whether or not that’s concerning. 

“besides,” hoseok prods yoongi with a finger. “you have to come watch me dance.” 

taehyung had informed you earlier that hoseok is apparently a part of the dance crew performing later, and yoongi is apparently a very good friend, or at least good enough to haul himself out of bed just in time to watch hoseok perform with his crew every year before ambling back home. so it’s just in line with what you know about his friends when yoongi looks like he’s about to acquiesce, only for jimin to give him a wicked grin. “and you lost the bet.” 

yoongi lets out the longest, most tired sigh you’ve ever heard a person make, and you decide you and him are gonna get along quite well. 

.

.

.

jimin drags yoongi off in the direction of soft pretzels while hoseok heads off to join his dance crew, leaving you and taehyung to wander around for a bit, searching for your friends. you get distracted along the way - since it’s your freshman year, it’s the first time you’ve attended the festival. taehyung attended last year, so he grins widely when your eyes light up at the sight of puppies, a surprised laugh escaping you. 

“so cute,” you scratch the back of one puppy’s ear, a delighted giggle slipping out when the puppy tries to jump into your lap. 

“not as cute as yeontan,” taehyung sniffs, and you arch an eyebrow at him. he whips out his phone immediately, pulling up photos of an adorable pomeranian, pleased when you coo at the photos too. 

the two of you walk around aimlessly. at one point you get two things of cotton candy - taehyung’s eyes go wide when you inform him that yes, you will be eating both of them (which you do, eventually) - while taehyung gets his face painted, an adorable little bear on his left cheek. 

“cute,” you compliment offhandedly. 

“me? i know,” taehyung grins when you roll your eyes. you reach out to shove his face away playfully, but he catches your hand before you can make contact. “careful,” he teases. “you’re gonna get paint everywhere and ruin my beautiful face.” 

“beautiful? where?” you pretend to search him, moving your head left and right and laughing when taehyung releases your hand in a light shoving motion. 

“i’m flawless,” taehyung asserts, straightening his back and flipping invisible hair over his shoulder. you suck in a breath, tilting your head. 

“well, at least you have confidence,” you joke, and he bumps shoulders with you, unashamed. 

you jump when you hear someone yelling your name, hand instinctively coming up to grab taehyung’s arm. he startles at the motion but looks more amused than surprised, while you whip your head around trying to find the source. it doesn’t take long, considering you probably could’ve heard sana from the other side of campus from the way she hollers your name, waving her arms excitedly in tandem with jeongyeon. 

there’s a lot of hugging and greetings and introductions as taehyung gets bombarded on all sides by your friends who are excited and curious to meet him. he takes it all in stride, doesn’t even notice when sana yanks you to the side to hiss what the fuck, he’s gorgeous into your ear. 

(it’s a high compliment from sana, considering her general distaste for men.) 

it’s only when jungkook shows up that things start to unravel, everything falling apart so suddenly and so rapidly you hardly have time to realize it’s happened. 

it starts with seeing his girlfriend on his arm, pretty, dainty fingers wrapped around his bicep as he introduces her. she’s dazzling, ridiculously so. they make a magazine cover-worthy couple; if it didn’t feel like such a punch to the gut you’d be offended by it all. she looks at jungkook like he holds the world in his hands - and the worst part is he looks back at her the same way. 

you barely register the hand she holds out to you - the way jungkook introduces you as one of his closest friends - forcing a smile to your face as you shake her hand before pulling away as fast as you can without being obvious. 

taehyung watches quietly, the way you slowly draw into yourself, one hand crossed over your midsection to hold your other arm. if he had an inkling of what jungkook meant to you before, it’s clear as day now, cemented by the way you refuse to look directly at jungkook. the deep heartache in your eyes betrays the shy smile on your face; even when your eyes crinkle in the corners he can see how sad you are. 

he’s watching your heart splinter right in front of him, and there’s little he can do about it. 

you make the mistake of looking up just as jungkook presses a kiss to jisoo’s cheek. your chest tightens and you swallow hard. it shouldn’t still be this difficult. years of jungkook filtering through girls should have trained you for this - but you’d spent almost just as many years in denial, pretending like his hand wrapped around someone else’s wasn’t driving a stake through your heart every time. 

it’s impossible to pretend anymore, not when you still have the feel of jungkook’s palm against yours memorized. not when you can still recall the way his hands ruffle your hair or the way he looks at you, head tilted, pretty eyes twinkling like you’re special to him. he always looked at you differently. always. 

but never quite the way he does when he looks at his girlfriend. 

you startle when you feel taehyung shuffle in close to you, leaning down and so close that you can feel his breath against your ear. “hey,” he murmurs. “wanna go watch hoseok dance with me? he should be just about ready to go on now.” 

you turn to face him. he’s centimeters away from you but he doesn’t back away, gentle smile curving his lips. his eyebrows raise questioningly, patiently awaiting your answer. 

you don’t notice jungkook watching when taehyung has your attention. you don’t catch the way jungkook frowns, seeing taehyung so close to you, eyebrows furrowing when you offer taehyung a small smile and nod. his expression is cleared by the time you turn back, announcing that you’re off to watch the dance performance, your friends not so subtly shifting their eyes between you and taehyung. 

taehyung nods his head politely at your friends, smile growing tight when he lands on jungkook, before turning away. he rests a hand on your back, guiding you towards the dance stage, and you let him. you don’t see the way jungkook’s jaw clenches slightly, annoyance flashing through his eyes at the sight of taehyung’s hands on you. you’re too focused on trying to leave, put as much distance as you can between him and his brand new girlfriend. 

taehyung drops his hand when you’re out of sight of your friends, though he’s fairly certain he can hear them giggling faintly in the distance, maybe even his name and your name flitting through the conversation. he puts his attention on you instead, trying to gauge whether he should ask about jungkook or not. 

you should be too much trouble. having your heart so blatantly belong to someone else should have alarms ringing wildly in taehyung’s ears, but instead he’d whisked you away, wanting so much to wipe that heartbroken look off your face, to see you smile and ramble and do all the things you do when it’s just you and him. you’re so quiet now, walking silently beside him, atmosphere changed drastically from when he’d taken you around the festival to see all the things the university had to offer today. 

your head jerks up suddenly to look at him, and he flinches out of sheer shock. “how long has hoseok been dancing?” you ask, and he stares blankly at you, astounded by the 180 degree change. 

you’ve wiped all traces of sadness from your expression. curious eyes waiting for his answer, and taehyung has to collect his thoughts before he can answer. “like, i think since he was in elementary school, or something,” he responds. you hum, turning away and nodding. 

“he must be really good at it,” you muse. 

“he is,” taehyung confirms absently, eyes trailing over you. he spots it then, the way your hands are held together as you walk, your right thumb digging hard across the width of your palm, hands twisting together. it’s the only thing betraying the emotions you’re hiding underneath aimless questions about hoseok and the dance performance, which taehyung answers systematically back. 

“hey,” taehyung stops you abruptly, steadying you when you nearly trip from trying to stop so fast. “woops. sorry. can you check if the paint is dry?” 

you look a little confused as he points to his cheek, but don’t question it much when he leans down, close enough to you that you can see his individual eyelashes and the pretty specks in his eyes. you draw back on instinct, putting space between you and him even as your hands detangle to come up and brush your fingers faintly against his skin around the edges of the bear painting on his cheek. 

“i think it’s dry,” you comment, head tilting while your fingers press lightly against his cheek. taehyung tries not to shiver at the feeling of your breath against his skin, or think about how close you are to him, your concentration making you forget how little distance there is between the two of you. one finger slides against the edges of the outline of the bear’s face and you hum, nodding, satisfied with your prodding. “yeah. it’s dry.” 

you turn to look at him, heart jumping at the small quirk in his lips that he does when he recognizes the flustered look on your face at the realization of how far into his space you’d gotten. you back out immediately, taehyung taking his sweet time to rise back up to his full height. 

“thanks,” he smiles, drawing out the ‘s’ a little longer at the end. you narrow your eyes at him in suspicion but let him go back to leading the way to the stage, finding yoongi and jimin and joining them towards the front of the stage. 

while jimin is explaining why he never joined the school dance team to you, taehyung smiles secretively to himself. your hands are no longer worriedly pulling at each other, instead loosely laced together as you listen to jimin’s story, laughing at yoongi’s intermittent interjections. 

when your jaw drops at the sight of hoseok taking over the stage, taehyung feels a warmth in his chest that shows itself in the form of a wide grin that he doesn’t bother to hide. 

other drabbles in the series: like she’s the only girl you’ve ever seen || the worst

series masterlist: till the night is over

taglist: @mwitsmejk @doublejeon