#nicholas chavez x reader angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greengoblinswifey · 2 months ago

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i LOVEEE me some angst and fluff, so in love with this omg🥹

UNDER WRAPS

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you try to be the most loving and supportive girlfriend to nicholas and his career, but can your relationship stand a chance when his pr forces him to be in a relationship with another girl?

contains: based off this request, fluff, kissing, angst with happy ending, sadness, crying, jealousy, arguing, insecurity, anxiety, swearing, established relationship between reader and nicholas, reader is tabyana ali’s cousin and bff, mentions of fake dating with victoria abbott

a/n: if you want to be added to my taglist, please dm me so i can easily find it! i don’t want to leave anyone out!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu

a pang of hurt increased the prominent heaviness in your heart as your thumb held down on the screen of your phone. on each of their instagram stories, you saw your boyfriend of one year, nicholas chavez, and his “girlfriend”, victoria abbott, walking hand in hand at another red carpet event. that’s right. your boyfriend has another girlfriend, but it’s not one would think to be normal. you still question to yourself—where did it all go wrong? after he got his big break from projects such as monsters and grotesquerie, nicholas had been in the spotlight everywhere by booking roles, interviews, photoshoots, and attending prestigious events for actors such as himself. this was all thanks to his immense talent and strikingly good looks, but also to his manager who’d made sure that nicholas’ name will be a name to remember in hollywood.

you couldn’t be more proud of the love of your life. you and nicholas had a great relationship. you both met through your favorite cousin who was basically your best friend, tabyana, who was his co-star on general hospital. you don’t watch the soap opera, but to support her, you went to one of those fan meet events for the show. you found nicholas to be very handsome and charismatic, but you really liked his passion for acting and his humbleness. he was exactly your type, but you didn’t think much of it. he was a whole celebrity and his chemistry with your cousin was off the charts, so you thought the chance of him ever getting with you would be little to none. the event was wrapping up, so you went to find your cousin and bid her a goodnight because you had work the next day. you gave her hug and she grabbed onto your wrist before you could take another step.

“taby—girl, where are you taking me?” you frantically question as she drags you to a table. it wasn’t just any table though. as soon as tabyana stopped, you look over to see none other than her fine ass co-star, nicholas alexander chavez. it was like love at first sight when the warmth of his deep brown eyes met with yours. as you both examine each other’s features, the temperature of your faces rise and the tempo of your heartbeats increase. you just stare at the man in awe as your cousin introduces you to each other,

“hey, nicholas! this is the one i was telling you about. this is my cousin and bff, y/n l/n.” she amicably says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to sort of push you in closer. “y/n, this is my co-star, nicholas chavez.” a smile is instantly visible on his face as nicholas stands to meet you where you stand. you try not to swoon as his cologne intoxicates your senses, but you manage to keep it cool. you take his large awaiting hand into yours for a cordial shake.

“it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, y/n. you’re even prettier in person.”

his heart flutters when you thank him and flash a pearly smile at the compliment. then it dawned you that he said in person.

“thank you, nicholas! i’m curious, what do you mean by in person?” you had to ask just be safe, hoping that he wasn’t a creep, but the next thing he said almost sent you to heaven. nicholas chuckles in bashfulness, a hand in his pocket and the other running through his brown hair. tabyana gave him a knowing look with a smirk,

“do you want me to tell her or…?” she playfully trails off, waving her hand for nicholas to speak up. he clears his throat to meet your gaze,

“i’ll say it, i just don’t want to make a bad first impression— okay, so, taby and i were on set taking a break and she was on her phone scrolling until she just squealed out of nowhere—”

“i did not squeal. i just got hyped up.” tabyana chided, cutting him off. with a playful eye roll, you settle your cousin, so that you could hear nicholas out.

“anyways! she scared me and i asked what’s the matter. she gave me her phone and it happened to be your instagram and you just posted pictures from your vacation when you were on the beach. he paused to clear his throat before he proceeded to speak, “and uh, you looked absolutely stunning, so—i asked about you and that’s how i found out that you were taby’s cousin. she also told me that you were gonna come tonight, so that we could officially meet.” he finished, giving you a nervous, but adorable lopsided smile.

tabyana smiled in satisfaction as her plan to get you two together was working, now she had to get you alone.

“hey, i gotta make my rounds and chat with some fans, nicholas keep y/n company. i love you, cuz! byeeeee!” before you could even protest, she was already scurrying to another area in the venue, leaving you and nicholas alone at the table. not long after, he offered to buy you a beverage and stay a while longer to talk. you wanted to politely decline because you had to go home, but with the new knowledge you just received from him, it was only fair to give him a proper shot. as the time passed by, you two shared joy, laughter, and eventually, a budding romance. the romance was blissful, but still a bit private. you both wanted to make sure that this relationship was going to last before running it to social media, so you and nicholas kept it cute, sweet, and lowkey for the next few months. it was like you were in your own peaceful bubble of love and happiness, but it abruptly popped a week after celebrating your one year anniversary.

“make this make sense, nicholas! what the hell do you mean that you’re getting into another relationship? are you seriously breaking up with me right now?” you stood up from the sofa in the living room of your now shared apartment.

“babe, look. i don’t want to do this either and i’m not breaking up with you, i would never— this is just something that these agents do to ensure that i get more projects. the more i do, the better at acting i get and i could support us both. acting is my life’s dream, but what’s the use of that when you have no one to share it with? i only want you.”

nicholas had just broken the news to you that he had to be in a public relationship with another actress named victoria, which was instructed by his pr team. he stands up to gently take your hand before guiding you into a warm embrace. your head pressed against his chest to hear his steady heartbeat as you pondered. this was all so crazy. you knew that dating a celebrity had its perks and flaws, but why couldn’t you be known to the world as his girl? was it because you’re not an actress or a celebrity in general? was it because of your background? would nicholas fall out of love and leave you for her? so many questions ran a race in your brain as you felt a lump in your throat, your vision blurred by the moisture building up in your pupils which didn’t take long to rain on your face and his t-shirt. at the first whimper, nicholas gingerly pulled away from the hug and guided your chin with his fingers as you struggle to meet his sympathetic gaze. you hated crying in front of him sometimes.

“baby—baby, look at me.” he whispered, never taking his eyes from your blushed, teary face. you sniffled, the soothing pads of his thumbs to wipe the falling tears from your melanated skin calms you enough to listen to him. nicholas presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before he speaks,

“i need you to understand that i’m not just doing this to get my name out there, i’m doing this for us. i know we’ve only been together for a year, but i want to build our future together and i don’t want it to crumble before i start, okay?” nicholas gulps, holding both sides of your jaw not daring to break eye contact,

“do you love me, y/n?” he questions, you don’t hesitate to answer,

“i love you, nicholas. i love you with everything that i am. it’s just—” you pause to sigh before communicating, “i want to be able to show everyone that i’m seriously in love with you. we’ve already kept this private long enough and now you gotta be public with someone else? i don’t know how we’re gonna do this.” you confess, your eyes watering again. you know there’s going to be pictures everywhere of them on different sites and platforms. hell, maybe you might even hear it during lunch break gossip at work. you felt your entire abdomen painfully cave in at the thought, but it dissolves to that familiar warm, tingly sensation when you feel nicholas’ lips press to yours in gentle earnestness, you instinctively return the kiss and he pulls away to press his forehead to yours.

“i love you more, but do you trust me to do this? it’s only temporary.”

trust. you ponder on the short word with such an immense meaning that determines the foundation for any type of relationship. you thought back to all of the times you’ve shared with nicholas, he’s never given you any reason to doubt his loyalty towards you before, but this opportunity for him could change that and that made you worried. for your relationship and your peace of mind, you silently nodded in response.

“use your words, baby, i need you to say it.” he softly urges, intertwining your fingers with his. you peer into his eyes, it was like he wouldn’t make a move without your verbal approval, so he was serious about this after all.

“i—i trust you, nicholas.” you confirm, squeezing onto his palm as if he’ll fly away from you right this second. it was now your turn to initiate a kiss, just to reassure that even though both of you weren’t fond of this situation, you were still going to make this work.

TWO WEEKS LATER

once nicholas went public with his new “relationship” at first you were a bit supportive, but now you were starting to sulk in loneliness. with each passing day, you were starting to feel like nicholas was slipping away from you. during the day, he’d be with victoria out on the street, the beach, on set, anywhere where the faux couple’s pictures could be captured for all of the world to view. in the night, he’d come home eager to see you, wrap you in a warm embrace, and comedically dish out any details concerning all of his “dates” he went on over dinner and a movie. he admitted that some of the places they went to would be great enough for you both to check out. you smiled and pretended to agree, but the idea of taking your real girlfriend on some of the same dates as your fake one felt off to you. social media was starting to become a train wreck for you. no matter how far down you scrolled, they still managed to show up on your feed. it hurt like hell to see a video of them dancing in a nightclub, victoria lovingly gazed up at his figure as if he hung the moon. it was obvious that she developed feelings. nicholas didn’t look too interested, he just tried to be polite with a cordial smile on his face for the camera as they swayed to the beat of the music. the comments rooting for this lie of an alliance wasn’t helping either, so you just deleted all socials except for tumblr and pinterest until it all died down.

that should be you. he’s your boyfriend—if that’s even the truth anymore. you desired to tell the world about the love you had for nicholas, but this could ruin his reputation, his life’s work. this was all too much. damn his agent, damn his pr, and damn this whole thing! you weren’t sure if you could pretend that this was okay for any longer. before you made any drastic decisions out of bitterness, you had to communicate it with nicholas first. all week you’ve been trying to get nicholas alone to speak your heart, but due to his schedule, he was out later than usual which had you fed up at this point. although you were fuming, you patiently waited for him to get home. it was half past midnight when he tiredly walked through the door and jolted a bit when he saw your burning gaze.

“hey, babe! i’m so sorry. the after party ran over so late and i—” he tried to explain, but you cut him off. you wish you weren’t so angry because it sounded like he wanted to be here.

“nicholas, we need to talk.” at your words, he didn’t hesitate to stride from the door to where you sitting. he bent down on one knee to meet your eye level.

“anything, sweetheart. what’s on your mind?” he inquires, taking your hands within his to reassure that was listening. the bitterness within you wants to take them away because these are the same hands that were holding hers. thankfully, your love for him conquered all of that. you sigh out, your eyes shooting to the ceiling as they blur in tears.

“i think we need to take a break—until this whole fake relationship thing is completely over. nicholas, i love you, but i feel like that you’re not even mine. i love what we have, but keeping it a secret while you’re presented as someone else’s perfect lover is tearing me apart.” you confess, your teardrops drizzle on your connected hands as your heart continues to break. he hastily shakes his head, his brown gaze painted with worry.

“no, no—babe, y’know that i’m yours. always. remember what i said i’m doing this for us. don’t you trust me?” he asked.

“i do, nicholas, and i support you and your dreams, but do i really need to suffer for it? how would you feel if i were out some other guy? yeah, i don’t love him, but someone always ends up getting hurt or left out , so there’s gotta be a decision made. heh, i bet you don’t even know that victoria has feelings for you—i’ve seen the way she looks at you in those pictures.”

nicholas is speechless, gazing into your eyes. he gulps before mustering up the correct words,

“so—so what’re you saying? are you leaving me, y/n?”

“not completely, nick. i just—need some space away from all of this. i don’t want you to choose between your career or me, you’re probably under contract and i don’t want to ruin things for you.”

“y/n, please don’t—just give me a chance, maybe i can talk to my team to shut this goddamn thing down. i don’t ever want to lose you. i—” with each word his voice starts to crack and tears form in his eyes at the thought of losing you. it shouldn’t have to be this way. you shouldn’t have to suffer due to the tricky business of hollywood, nicholas realized that roles come and go, but having a love like yours was rare to come by.

“nicholas, i understand, but i think it’s best if don’t see each other right now, so i’m going to be staying somewhere else for a little bit. once this is all over, we can pick up from where we left off.” you confirm, getting up from your seat and walking into your shared bedroom with nicholas not traveling far behind you. he leans against the doorway and observes as you gather a small suitcase that’s already packed with essentials. before you could even walk out of the door, his large frame is blocking your way.

“nicholas—move.” you command while gripping on the handle of your luggage. your eyes begging him to not make this harder than it is for you.

“y/n, don’t do this, please. let’s just sleep it off and i’ll get it straightened out first thing in the morning. besides, where would you go?” he questioned, not moving from his spot.

“i’m not telling you that! look, i want my space, nicholas. at least let me have that until this is over. i can’t stand it anymore. we can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not.” you rebutted, you moved around the room to located your phone, so that you could text tabyana that you needed to crash at her place for a few days and that you would explain later. that’s when you saw him take out his own phone and dial a number. you watched in confusion when he put it on speaker,

“hey.” he firmly greeted on the phone with a hardened gaze and tightened lips. you heard the voice on the other end respond with such an enthusiastic tone,

“aye, nick! how’s it goin’? i just wanna say that the people love you and victoria. i can see the headlines now!” it was his manager on the phone and his words only made want to shrink into nonexistence. this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. he glanced at you, your eyes filled with hurt and frustration, and it ignited a fire within him. this had to stop.

“actually, um—can you hold on a second?” he requested, his voice steady despite all of this drama. nicholas took a deep breath, before he went straight to the point.

“this—with victoria and i, it can’t go on. it’s over. period.”

with a baffled look, your tight grip on your suitcase started to loosen as you stepped in closer to see if this was really happening. there was a pause of silence that grew thick in the air with an awkward tension.

“you there?” nicholas question with an arched brow.

“yeah, i’m here,” his manager replied, slightly puzzled, “but kid, you gotta realize this is just business—acting. you’re basically putting on a show and the world loves to watch it.”

with the shake of his head, nicholas took another deep breath, his heart racing.

“not if it means hurting those who don’t deserve it. look, i can’t keep pretending to be with victoria when my heart belongs to someone else—and what if victoria catches feelings, huh? do you think that’s fair to her? you’re basically stringing her along and that’s messed up.” he glanced back at you, your expression softening as you realized he was fighting for you, for you both. “i want—no, i need to tell the world about my real relationship. we’ve kept things private enough and i want to be with her openly.”

there was another moment of silence on the other end, and nicholas could almost hear his manager’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose and a sigh of exasperation in the office. “nicholas, you know how this works. what about the fans—”

“the fans deserve the truth,” nicholas firmly interrupted. “a stable relationship is built on the truth and i’m not losing mine because you want me to live a lie for some views—so, call whoever the hell you need to while i’ll break the news to victoria because this is all over. do we understand?” he concluded, not taking his eyes away from you. you felt your heart swell as you watched him stand his ground, the weight of the world seemingly lifting from both of your shoulders. his manager sighed in defeat before responding and nicholas smirked because he knew he got his way.

“alright, alright. let me see what i can do, but you know this could shake things up, right?”

“that’s cool.” nicholas said, shrugging his shoulders, but with determination in his voice. “consider me ready.”

you heard his manager let out a chuckle,

“you got balls, kid. that girl of yours sure is lucky.”

nicholas warmly gazed at you, a simper growing on his lips.

“you’re damn right, but i’m luckier.” with that, he hung up the phone and strided to you to place his hands on your shoulders. his expression a mix of hope and vulnerability.

“baby, i am so sorry for everything. i was so selfish and blind that i couldn’t see how much i’ve hurt you. i thank you for believing and trusting in me, but it shouldn’t have to cost you your happiness—ever. i love you too much for that to happen again and trust me, it won’t happen again. i don’t care about headlines, i care about you. i care about us.”

tears brimmed in your eyes, but this time they were tears of sweet relief instead of painful sorrow.

“are you being for real, nicholas?”

“i’m dead serious. y’know how you say that you don’t play about me? well— i don’t play about you either.” he sincerely said, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer proximity. “i love you, and the whole world deserves to know. i don’t give a damn about who supports it or not.”

you finally show a genuine smile through the sadness, and you nodded, your heart racing at every word. this felt like a dream, but this was reality, your reality.“i love you too, nicholas. god, i was so tired of feeling like a secret.” his burly arms enclose tighter around you, your own reaching to clasp together around his neck.

“no more secrets. from now on, it’s just you and me. no one else. unless—the future is good to us and we start a family.” even though there was a glint of mischief within his eyes, you could tell that he was dead serious.

“you big softie, c’mere.” you playfully roll eyes and stand a bit taller to press your full lips against his. as you kiss, the tension of the past few weeks instantly melt away as you both step into a new era of your relationship, ready to take on any challenges as soon as the world finds out about your no longer secret love.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x black reader #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x reader angst

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erajunex · 3 months ago

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The House of Sin. (part 1)

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: Father Charlie Mayhew x housekeeper!fem!reader

Summary: Your very religious family decides to preserve you from the evil of the world by entrusting you to Father Charlie as his housekeeper. You’re welcome in the House of Sin.

TW (for this part): NSFW. SMUT. blasphemy; mentions and references to catholic themes (some of them are prob inaccurate sorry); reader is very religious (but not innocent); mentions of blood; graphic description of self-inflicted flagellation; masturbation; voyeurism; swearing.

a/n: English is not my first language, so please be kind bc this took me so long to translate (lol), if you wanna be added to the tag-list for the next part lemme know with a comment pls

Enjoy xx

Father Charlie Mayhew had always been faithful and devoted to the promises he made before God when he decided to please Him for the rest of his earthly life, and with the same devotion he always made an effort to spread love for God within his parish.

In his whole life, he never felt the slightest desire to act in opposition to the Lord's word, he never succumbed to temptation, and his spirit never entertained the idea of sinning.

He was the perfect servant, the best guide for his parish, and for the faithful whom the Lord entrusted to him.

Or at least that was what everyone believed about him, including your parents, who thought that offering you the position of Father Charlie’s housekeeper would be the best way to protect you from the vices and dangers of the outside world.

Your father was a strict and religious man who raised you with rules and discipline, so you accepted his decisions without question.

Father Charlie knew your family well and recognized your parents' honesty and devotion, so he had high expectations for you, and you would’ve met all of them.

The initial period of living together at his house was quite peaceful, and being with him felt comfortable from the very first day. You spent your days peacefully working for him, cleaning his house and the church, doing laundry, and preparing lunch and dinner. Nevertheless, you always found a moment for prayer. You shared everything with him and you were grateful and respectful at the point you considered him a master despite his young age.

You recognized your parents' admiration for him, and you shared it too because he was a decent man who cared for all his faithful and his mission as God's servant. He was charismatic, persuasive, and seemingly flawless. To be honest, his personality intrigued you. You had to admit that sometimes you found him charming, but those were just fleeting thoughts that you quickly pushed aside— till tonight.

It’s late at night; all the lights are off, and Father Charlie has retired to his room about an hour ago.

You’ve just finished washing the dishes and are getting ready for the night. As you prepare to head to the room he had assigned to you when you first arrived, a flicker of light and subtle noise from his door catch your attention as you walk through the hallway.

At first, you think it’s just a perception, but as your feet slow down until they stop in the hallway, you realize your ears are not wrong.

Driven by curiosity you approach the door slowly, trying not to make a sound as you peek through the half-closed door to see out what is happening inside his room. But, you know, sometimes curiosity can kill.

You freeze. Your jaw drops, and your eyes widen as they look straight at the scene being etched in your memory.

Father Charlie sits at the edge of the bed, fully exposed to your gaze, the soft light casting shadows on his bare skin. His back is turned to the painting of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall, a watchful presence above him from which he is trying to hide himself.

He’s panting. He’s completely naked. With one hand around his cock.

His eyes are closed and his slightly parted lips release soft moans of pleasure, the rhythm of his breath filling the quiet room. A sheen of sweat glistens on his naked body as he keeps moving his left hand at a rapid pace, trying to set himself free from the lustful thoughts that had taken over his body as soon as possible.

Your breath breaks.

You can’t believe it. Father Charlie has succumbed to the desire of the flesh, his soul becoming stained by a sin he should never have committed. Not him. Not a priest like him.

And without knowing, he‘s pulling you into the Devil’s claws with him.

Because no matter how shocked you are, and no matter how hard you’re mentally cursing yourself for being overcome by curiosity, your eyes are glued to his magnificent body and cannot tear themselves away from it.

You are expected to go, but you can't. You don't want to.

For the first time in your whole yet short life, you hear it. That voice. The voice of temptation.

You continue to stare at him with bated breath, wishing that show will never end.

"Ah, fuck..." he groans and you shudder.

A shiver goes straight to your core, and you immediately feel an urge to clench your thighs together to hold back an unusual tickle that you had never experienced so strongly before.

However, it is not sufficient.

Forgive me, Father… you think. Your cheeks redden with shame as the last bit of reason fades away from you at that precise moment your right hand goes straight under the cloth of your sundress, and just as if it has been guided by a dark and sinister force it sneaks between your legs, right in your cotton panties.

For I have sinned.

You aren’t used to touching yourself, and even if you had done it on rare occasions you'd never imagined doing it like this— secretly watching your priest as he does the same thing.

Soon you realize that something inside you is changing rapidly. It‘s just a tiny spark, but it can set your whole body on fire in no time.

And it’s all his fault.

Your fingertips slide between your already-soaked folds, coating in juices that flow out of you like a river, and then you start teasing yourself shamefully, trying to focus on the scene in front of you to avoid those pitiful and lonely voices that keep whispering to you to stop.

“Yes…” he licks his lower lip and for a brief moment you imagine how good, how pleasant it could be the feeling of his wet tongue on your skin, exactly where your hand is. It’s so, so wrong and you know it, but you can’t control yourself. It’s overwhelming.

His nudity contrasts sharply with the solemnity of the image behind him. He looks so vulnerable, so…

“So good…” he says between moans. You want to know what he’s thinking, what kind of images are guiding his imagination— if you’re part of them too.

His forearm anchors on the mattress to balance himself, and his hips buck against his hand to gain more friction.

“Oh, God…” his broad chest is heaving with every breath that escapes his lungs as you try your best to swallow every squeak, careful not to get caught right there.

Sweat covers his forehead, small drops sliding down his ecstatic face and neck, igniting your deepest fantasies while your fingertips rub at your clit in circular motions, mimicking the pace at which he’s stroking his length.

You can’t help but look at it. Thick and veiny, the tip red and leaking with precum, your pussy throbs around nothing at the mere idea of putting his whole girth in your virgin mouth and knowing how good it could taste.

The man bites his lips and you do it too in reflection.

You are a mess. Your trembling thighs are soaked by the juices dripping from your aching pussy as you frantically touch yourself. Your entire being lies completely under the tight grip of the Devil, ensnared in a web of darkness that seeks to control every thought, feeling, and action.

His strokes become erratic, and his eyebrows knit together in a mixture of pain and bliss. He is close… and in such a short time you are too. Your teeth bite your lower lip until it bleeds, in a desperate attempt to hold back a whine. But you don't stop. You will not do it until he will too.

All of a sudden, his hand stops. A guttural sound of satisfaction slips past his throat reaching your ears as he throws his head back and the orgasm washes over him.

The tight knot in your belly snaps and thousands of shocks invade your body from head to toe. Your vision goes blurry, your mind goes fuzzy and your knees get weak like jelly.

You’ve just reached the peak without even knowing it.

Thick ropes of his white seed spill from his throbbing cock, falling right on his palm and stomach.

Your mouth waters at the sight, you can swear that if only it had been possible you’d walk into that damn room and kneel in between his huge thighs just to lick him clean and suck the soul out of him, making him cum again and again and again.

For God’s sake, those thoughts will send you straight to hell!

Silence takes his moans’ place, and his eyes open slightly as his breathing searches for a more regular pace, just like yours.

You pull out your hand from your soaked panties. A wave of post-orgasmic sense of guilt crashes over you. You have just sinned. Right now is time to go to your room and get some rest, forgetting what have just happened and never thinking again about it, and yet your eyes and your feet are stuck right here, quivering for his next moves.

Everything has been so tempting and your body wants more.

He suddenly gets up from the mattress and makes his way towards the antique dresser next to the bed. A bowl full of water is on top of it, and he quickly dips both his hands inside of it to his wrists, washing away every sign of the sinful act he had just committed—unaware it’s happened in front of you.

From that spot, his body is perfectly exposed to your gaze, and your mind takes advantage of this to explore new, undiscovered places.

He‘s tall, radiant, and huge. He looks like a classical statue. His broad chest and chiseled abs seem to be sculpted in marble, just like his thick thighs and the strong and muscular arms he usually hides under the vestments.

He’s handsome.

Only the Lord knows what those arms are capable of, how those big and veiny hands would be able to touch and grab a woman’s body- your body. How good his mouth would be able to kiss you, bite you, lick you, satisfying the most private parts of you like no one ever did. If only he didn’t have to respect the vows of celibacy and obedience... if only he didn't choose to refuse lust and resist temptation for the rest of his life…

He wipes his hands with a clean towel near the basin, heavy breathing releasing from his lungs as if he wants to get rid of that slamming weight on his shoulders. The weight of the mortal sin he has just given into, the reason why he deserves to be punished— and maybe you deserve it too.

You see him going through the drawer and picking something before he lifts the wooden kneeler to the side. And when he approaches the bed again, you recognize the scourge in his hand.

Your heartbeat down faster as soon as you realize what’s going to happen. Father Charlie places the kneeler in front of the bed, exactly where he was before, and turnes his back to you, revealing his broad shoulders and his back previously tortured by the hits he self-inflicted with the tool he’s now placing on the sheets.

A bunch of shivers flood your body from head to toe, trepassing your spine. You see the still-opened wounds and cuts on his pale skin, the clear signs of every time he sinned and begged for forgiveness.

He kneels and firmly takes the scourge in his right hand. Seven cords, seven barbs for the seven deadly sins, and seven virtues.

The mortification of the flesh.

It‘s the only way to deaden his sinful nature and bring back his focus to the only thing he pledged to honour even after his bodily death.

He rests his elbows on the board, with his back straight as he looks at the white wall in front of him, his eyes filled with certainty and confidence.

He stands right there unshaken, keeping you on edge for his next move before his lips parts and he speaks.

"Merciful Lord, I come before You seeking forgiveness and healing" with a rapid flick of his hand he whips himself violently, making you gasp in shock. You hear him holding his breath, trying his best not to cry and scream from pain, and then he spakes again.

"f-for the sin of lust that… dwells within me." another lash, another flinch from you. Cords are already leaving marks and bruises, you can feel how much they sting on his skin and on his previous wounds as the sharp edges sink on his back mercilessly.

"I confess m-my weakness in giving in to… impure desires" his stomach jolts in pain, and his dilated pupils stare blankly at the painting on the wall as his lips tremble with each syllable "and… indulging in lustful t-thoughts and actions t-that offend… You."

A lot of blood starts gushing out from his wounds, staining the cords with a bright red color.

You cover your mouth in shock. You can see the pained look on his face, pleasure has completely abandoned his now-suffering body that‘s writhing at the feeling of those rusty barbs tearing his flesh apart at every whipping, painting the cold floor with the spatters of his own blood.

Father Charlie is asking for forgiveness, pleading the Lord to save him and have mercy on his damned soul, because he is aware of the burden on his shoulders and he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.

And the only way to regain his purity is through suffering, through that physical pain that can purify both his body and soul, leaving him weak and miserable like a dazed sailor who lost his compass and cannot find the horizon.

"Purify my heart" he barely mutters, too exhausted "renew my mind" his forearms lost their grip on the rubbed wood of the kneeler forcing him to cling to it as strength slowly leaves his body. You watch him with an alarmed look on your face, worried about his state "and sanctify my body as Your temple."

A final statement spoken with a broken voice before Father Charlie immediately collapses on the wooden structure, visibly in a worn out state. Spurting blood stains his bare back, his eyelids squeeze trying to kill the pain of that one last whip that completely slashed his flesh.

You accidentally step back with your left foot, producing a nearly undetectable noise that forces you to lean your hand against the wall to keep balance in an attempt not to get caught. Too late.

Father Charlie turns around quickly, towards the door he previously left slightly ajar. His gloomy eyes meet yours even if shrouded in darkness. Your heart stops in your chest, becoming like a stone falling into a bottomless pit.

Shit.

a/n: part 2?

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pascaloverx · 3 months ago

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HAUNTED

Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didn’t expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murderer—and even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future. If there's no interest, unfortunately, I will be abandoning the idea.

AO3 LINK ONE

PREVIEW

Strange noises surround you, and the brightness stings your eyes, but you want to wake up. In the distance, you hear a woman shouting for a nurse to come help. Is she a relative? A friend? You wish you knew. You feel connected to machines, surrounded by tubes, which nearly makes you gag. “Don’t pull on any of the wires attached to you. A nurse will be here to help you. My name is Lois Tryon. Detective Lois Tryon.” The woman speaks, trying to sound gentle but coming off as forced. She smells of cigarettes and alcohol. You remain silent, motionless. You don’t want to die—even though you don’t even know who you are.

"How long have I been here, Detective Tryon?" you murmur with some difficulty. There might be other important questions, but right now, this is the only one you need answered.

"About two years," she says, sounding almost excited about your recovery. A medical team enters your hospital room, adjusting and checking your body as if you were a doll—a sensation that’s starting to make you feel nauseous. The detective vanishes amidst the medical team as they check your reflexes, vital signs, temperature, and run several other clinical tests that will apparently tell them how you’ve woken up and if you’re truly all right.

Everything felt so secretive, with nurses whispering as if you couldn’t hear them. Two doctors were even debating whether they should tell you something or not. They decided to wait for Dr. Mayhew, whoever he might be. After a while, you drifted off to sleep, still waiting for them to explain what was going on. You had the same dream as before—a strikingly attractive man dressed as a priest making you kneel, asking for forgiveness for some unnamed sin. What stood out was how he always touched your face gently, saying that if you truly sought forgiveness for what you had done, you would have to accept your punishment. Then you would start taking off your clothes for him. The man dressed as a priest would then put you between his legs and spank you. He used to ask if you would be a good girl for him, and when you answered; he would whisper to you to take responsibility for what you did. And then you found yourself surrounded by blood and corpses, like a nightmare.

This time, you opened your eyes, letting out an almost desperate cry. There are fewer tubes attached to you, fewer wires surrounding you. There’s also a doctor—a different one from those who tended to you before. He’s lying back, asleep in a chair that doesn’t look at all comfortable. You wonder if it’s common for doctors to fall asleep beside their patients or if you’re getting special treatment due to the time you’ve been unconscious. The doctor is strikingly handsome. He looks exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his breathing deep and steady. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t wake at your cry.

You try to get up, nearly falling back at the sudden motion, but on the second attempt, you manage with some difficulty. Unsteady, you grab one of the spare blankets at the foot of your hospital bed and gently drape it over him. But there’s something peculiar—you feel as if you’ve seen him before. You move closer, laying your fingers lightly on the warm skin of his hand. His hair falls messily over his face, obscuring your view. Then you recognize him: the slightly wicked priest from your dreams, too alluring to be a saint, who meted out your penance. Yet something within you stirs, as if he holds a deeper meaning, something that seduces and captivates you. You touch the scar on his forehead, feeling a surge of electricity ripple through your body.

Then he grasps your hand, pulling you down onto his lap, where you land anyway. You’re silent for a moment, staring at him. “You used to brush my hair away from my face whenever you wanted to tell me something embarrassing,” he says, his voice close to yours, a sly smile playing on his lips as he settles you in his lap. “You’d say that if you focused on my scar, you wouldn’t feel so shy talking to me.” You’re surprised, but you don’t move. Something about being close to him feels familiar, leaving your body unresponsive in his presence.

“I imagine you don’t speak like that to all your patients, Doctor…” you say, trying to keep a serious tone as you study the face of the man whose lap you’re seated on. He chuckles, clearly amused. “Dr. Mayhew to some, Charlie to others. But to you, I’m husband.”

The words startle you, and you jump off his lap, steadying yourself on the hospital bed. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you ask, bewildered. You’re married?

“I know this might be difficult to understand, but we are married. Don’t feel pressured to remember—it’s all right…” he murmurs, rising from the chair and moving toward you. His calm tone, almost as if he’s trying to make you feel safe, is surprisingly comforting. Your gaze falls to his hands as they reach out to you, but you instinctively move to the opposite side of the bed.

“I’m sorry, but there must be some mistake. You can’t be married to me. Your face looks like it stepped right out of a magazine. I can barely believe you’re a doctor, let alone my husband. If this is a joke, know that it’s unfair to mock someone who doesn’t even know her own name,” you say, sounding slightly indignant. But honestly, what are the odds he’s really your husband?

Dr. Mayhew laughs, a sound both frustrated and enchanted. He runs a hand through his hair as if searching for patience. “It’s funny you’d say that. When we first met, you called me a ‘Ken wannabe.’ Later, you swore you hadn’t fallen for me because of my looks. When you remember that, I’ll be sure to remind you of it,” he says, his gaze deep and searching, as if his eyes are speaking more than his words.

“If you’re my husband, then tell me something only you would know about me!” you exclaim before he can come any closer. Your hands are trembling—whether from the intensity of his stare or some other reason, you’re not sure.

"You like to fuck when you're stressed, usually you prefer me to fuck you from behind but when you're pissed off, you bounce on me like there's no tomorrow. You don't like to feel pressure so I personally think you married me not because I'm handsome but because I let you be in charge. When I asked you to marry me, you broke up with me. You thought I was rushing things, and you couldn't stand the idea of not being able to give me children. You had two cats when you were younger and you named them 'Beelzebub' and 'Crowley' because your mother was very religious and you never liked her." He seems sincere, even if he's embarrassing you on purpose. It's obvious from the way he talks about your sex life, which you can't even confirm.

“Hold on, Doctor. We both know the sexual details were unnecessary. If I can’t remember other parts of my life, am I really going to remember what our… sex life was like?” you say, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Your hands are beginning to sweat, but you don’t break eye contact with Dr. Mayhew.

“Actually, of all the details I’ve shared, those are the only ones we can test right now,” he says, closing in on you with surprising speed. His gaze is fixed on you, predatory and intent, as though you’re his prey. Strangely, you feel no embarrassment—just a stirring curiosity to uncover this for yourself.

“Do you often suggest casually sleeping with your patients? We are in your workplace, after all,” you say, feigning reprimand, though part of you wonders if he’s ever done this here before.

“I only suggest it to those who are married to me. And honestly,” he says, drawing closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper, “we’ve done far worse in both our workplaces.” He nods between himself and you, hinting at shared memories. There’s a tension in the air, something almost tangible. You swallow hard, unsure why his closeness doesn’t make you uncomfortable—but rather feels strangely familiar.

“You sound extremely dangerous saying things like that,” you murmur, holding Dr. Mayhew’s gaze as if daring him. For a moment, you think he might close the distance and kiss you—a thought that leaves you unsettled. How should you respond? You’re not even sure if you believe he’s really your husband.

“You were always one to take risks; has amnesia made you forget your true nature?” His fingers trace lightly along your arm, his gaze heavy with desire. He clearly wants you, yet that alone proves nothing. Whoever you once were, in this moment, you feel as though you’re standing bare before him.

"I hope I’m not interrupting the happy couple, but I heard Mrs. Mayhew was awake. I thought I’d finally come to speak with my most anticipated witness. I’ve waited two years for this conversation,” Detective Lois Tryon stands in the doorway of your hospital room, a victorious smile on her face. Dr. Mayhew doesn’t look pleased to see her there. They exchange a tense look, while you remain close to him, caught between their silent standoff.

“I don’t believe it’s appropriate to question my wife mere hours after she’s woken from a two-year coma,” Dr. Mayhew says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re aware of her memory issues, Detective Tryon. It would be courteous of you to give her a moment to adjust.” You’re taken aback but stay pressed against his well-defined frame, momentarily wondering if he’s a doctor or a bodybuilder.

“It’s no surprise you don’t think it’s appropriate for me to question your wife,” Detective Tryon replies, her tone laced with sharpness. “I would have to reveal to her that her husband is a primary suspect in a series of murders. That he’s so determined to evade justice he might’ve orchestrated the accident that left her comatose. And that he’s been having an affair with the lead investigator of this case—while she’s been unconscious.” Mayhew tenses, a flicker of fury crossing his face as he grips your waist tighter. You watch as his features contort slightly, weighing the situation. You can’t help but wonder if you’re witnessing an innocent man being falsely accused or a guilty man feeling the noose tighten. For some reason, this only heightens your intrigue in him.

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xhoess · 4 months ago

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Dangerous Desires part 1

Nicholas chaves x reader

PART 2 HERE

Summary:In "Dangerous Desires," you are a private investigator hired to find missing Hollywood star Nicholas Chavez, only to discover he’s hiding from a dangerous criminal organization. As you delve deeper into his secret life as an undercover agent, a powerful attraction ignites between you. Together, you confront betrayal, navigate high-stakes missions, and fight for survival, ultimately forging a bond that transcends danger and chaos.

Wc part one: 10.6 K

Warnings: killing, sex, stalking, unprotected, semi public sex, angst

The rain pounds against the window, the steady rhythm a distant echo in your office as you stare at the file on your desk. The name leaps off the page in bold black ink: Nicholas Alexander Chavez. You’ve seen it before, attached to glamorous headlines, interviews, and red carpets. The rising star of Hollywood. Handsome, charming, with a smile that could melt hearts and a presence that demanded attention. But that’s not why you’re looking at his file now.

No, this is different. He’s gone off the grid. Vanished without a trace from a world where visibility is everything. And now, someone—a very wealthy someone—wants him found.

You lean back in your chair, the leather creaking under the weight of your thoughts. The client had been as secretive as they come, hiring you through intermediaries, leaving no name or personal contact. All they’d provided was a briefcase of cash and the insistence that Nicholas Chavez be found discreetly. No police, no press, and certainly no publicity. You specialize in missing persons cases, and you’ve had your share of tricky assignments, but something about this one feels different. It’s not just the money—though the payment alone could keep your agency afloat for a year—it’s the way Nicholas’s disappearance has been cloaked in shadows.

You’ve been in this business long enough to know when someone is running from something. The real question is, what was Nicholas running from? Or worse, what was he hiding from?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the soft chime of your phone. A message flashes across the screen. It’s a lead, one of the few you’ve managed to gather in the last few days of digging into Nicholas’s last known whereabouts. You thumb through the message quickly, your eyes catching on the words East End Hotel. Not exactly the kind of place a Hollywood actor would be seen—more like the kind of place you’d go to disappear.

Without hesitation, you grab your jacket and head out into the storm, the streets slick with rain. The city pulses with life around you, but you’re already focused, your mind running through possibilities, mapping out what you’ll do if you find him. What happens next depends on the man you find. The rain falls harder as you make your way through the back streets, the neon signs reflecting in puddles beneath your feet.

The East End Hotel looms ahead, its faded sign flickering against the wet night sky. The place reeks of neglect—peeling paint, cracked windows, and the kind of clientele that would rather not be noticed. You slip inside, immediately hit with the smell of cigarette smoke and mildew. A bored clerk barely glances up from behind the counter as you head toward the elevator, your senses on high alert. You’ve done this before—many times—and you’ve learned how to move unnoticed, to slip through the cracks just like the people you’re chasing.

The elevator rattles as it ascends, each floor passing with a creak and groan. Room 304. That’s where your lead pointed you. Third floor. Your heart rate picks up slightly, anticipation mixing with a familiar surge of adrenaline. You can’t help but wonder what state you’ll find Nicholas in. The golden boy of Hollywood hiding out in a place like this—it doesn’t add up.

The hallway is dimly lit, long shadows creeping along the walls as you approach the door. Room 304. You pause for a moment, listening for any sound from the other side, but it’s silent. Too silent.

You knock, the sound dull against the hollow wood. No answer. You knock again, harder this time. Still nothing.

Without hesitating, you try the doorknob. It’s locked, of course, but the kind of lock that a little persistence can work around. A few seconds later, the door clicks open, and you step inside, the faint smell of stale air greeting you.

The room is dark, save for the muted glow of the streetlights filtering through the rain-streaked window. You move quietly, scanning the small, dingy space. Clothes are strewn across the chair, a duffel bag half-packed by the bed. Whoever was here wasn’t planning on staying long.

You step further into the room, your eyes adjusting to the shadows when suddenly, a figure emerges from the corner. Before you can react, a hand grips your arm, twisting it behind your back and slamming you against the wall.

“Who the hell are you?” a low voice growls into your ear, rough and dangerous.

Your breath catches in your throat, not because of the pain, but because of who’s holding you.

Nicholas Chavez.

You’ve seen his face a hundred times in photos, on the screen, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of him. Up close, he’s taller than you imagined, his presence overwhelming in the tight space. His grip is strong, bordering on brutal, and his scent—something dark and masculine—fills your senses.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” you manage to say, keeping your voice calm despite the sharp edge of adrenaline coursing through you. “I was hired to find you.”

“By who?” he demands, but you can tell he already knows the answer. There’s tension in his body, something dangerous lurking just beneath the surface.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your heartbeat accelerating under his unrelenting grip. “Anonymous client. They want you found, and they’re paying a lot of money to make sure it happens.”

His jaw tightens, and for a brief moment, his eyes flicker with something—fear? Anger? It’s hard to tell, but whatever it is, it’s deep. Nicholas releases your arm, stepping back, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you. The intensity in his gaze is almost palpable, like he’s trying to decide whether to trust you or get rid of you. For a moment, you can’t tell which way it’s going to go.

“You need to leave,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you shoot back, straightening despite the lingering ache in your arm. “Not until you tell me why you’re hiding in this place and why someone’s paying top dollar to find you.”

Nicholas’s eyes narrow, and for a second, you wonder if he’s going to throw you out. But then something shifts. His expression softens—just a fraction—and the tension between you sharpens in a way you didn’t expect. His eyes, dark and brooding, flicker over you, and you can feel the crackling energy between you.

“I’m not hiding,” he says, stepping closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “I’m trying to survive.”

There’s a pause, the air between you thick with unspoken questions. He’s close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you a live wire, humming with something unspoken.

“You should go,” Nicholas murmurs, his gaze lingering on your face. “Before it’s too late.”

But as you stand there, heart racing, you know it’s already too late. You’re in too deep now, and there’s no way you’re walking away.

The rain hasn’t let up. It’s relentless, like the gnawing feeling in your gut. You know you should walk away from this case. Nicholas had warned you—stay away—but you can’t. Something about him, about this entire situation, has hooked you, and it’s too late to turn back.

You sit at your desk, staring at the notes you’ve gathered over the last few days. The crumpled paper with scribbled names and dead ends mocks you. Nicholas Chavez isn’t just missing—he’s hiding from something, something dangerous. Every instinct you’ve honed over years of tracking down missing persons tells you there’s more to this story. More than just an actor gone rogue.

You lean back in your chair, the quiet hum of the city outside barely penetrating the silence of your office. He’s out there, somewhere, slipping through the cracks, but no one can hide forever. You pull out your phone, your fingers hesitating over the screen. You’ve spent hours going over every lead, every hint of where Nicholas might turn up next, but nothing solid has come through yet.

Except for the faint trace of something that feels like a trap.

You push the thought aside, dial the number of one of your informants, and after a few short exchanges, you get something—an address, this time on the other side of town. It’s risky. You’ve already crossed paths with Nicholas, and you doubt he’ll be pleased to see you digging into his business again, but that’s not enough to stop you.

You grab your jacket and leave the office behind, stepping out into the wet, pulsing city once more. The rain slicks the streets, the occasional burst of light from passing cars reflecting off puddles as you make your way toward your destination. It’s late—too late to be roaming these parts of town alone—but danger has always been an old friend of yours.

By the time you reach the address, the place is exactly what you’d expected—another seedy, low-end corner of the city, where people go to disappear. A bar, tucked into a narrow street, almost invisible unless you know it’s there. You can feel the weight of eyes on you as you approach, the kind of place where newcomers stand out, and where asking the wrong questions might get you hurt—or worse.

You step inside, the stench of stale beer and smoke wrapping around you like a blanket. The interior is dimly lit, shadowy figures huddled in dark corners nursing their drinks. You make your way to the bar, your eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of Nicholas. Nothing. You’ve learned to trust your instincts, and right now, they’re screaming that something isn’t right.

Then you feel it—someone watching you. You turn slowly, scanning the room again, but no one stands out. Yet the hairs on the back of your neck rise, a prickle of awareness flooding your senses.

“Looking for someone?” a voice asks, low and dripping with suspicion.

You glance at the bartender, a middle-aged man with a weathered face and eyes that have seen too much. He wipes down the counter lazily, his gaze never leaving you.

“I’m just here for a drink,” you say, playing it cool. You’re not here to cause trouble—not yet, anyway.

The bartender raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it. You order something light, just to blend in, but your focus is elsewhere, your eyes darting from one shadow to the next. And then you see him.

Nicholas.

He’s not seated in the crowd but lingering near the back, half-hidden in the shadows. His eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before his expression hardens. You can feel the tension crackling between you even from across the room. He stands there, tall and imposing, his presence as magnetic as it is dangerous. For a split second, you think he’s going to turn around and leave, but instead, he starts walking toward you, his movements slow, deliberate.

Your pulse quickens. You weren’t expecting to find him this easily—or this soon.

Nicholas reaches you, his gaze piercing as he leans in close enough for you to catch the scent of rain and something darker, more primal, clinging to him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, his voice a quiet growl.

“Looking for answers,” you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. “You can’t disappear without a trace and expect no one to come looking.”

“I told you to drop the case,” he says, his jaw tight. “This isn’t a game.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” you shoot back, heart pounding in your chest. There’s something about him, the way he looks at you—part frustration, part something else—that makes it hard to think clearly.

Nicholas leans in even closer, his breath hot against your skin, and you suddenly feel trapped between the bar and his looming figure. “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he warns, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “This isn’t some missing person case you can wrap up neatly. People are going to get hurt. You could get hurt.”

Despite the warning, the heat between you spikes, the tension simmering just beneath the surface. You can feel his intensity—his anger, yes, but something else too. There’s a spark of attraction, a pull that’s impossible to ignore, and it’s enough to leave you momentarily breathless.

“I can handle myself,” you say, but your voice is softer now, your bravado slipping under the weight of his gaze. Nicholas’s eyes flick down to your lips, just for a fraction of a second, and the air between you thickens with something neither of you can name.

For a moment, you think he might kiss you. His hand brushes against your arm, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. The closeness, the sheer heat of him, is almost unbearable. But then, as quickly as it began, he pulls back, breaking the moment. You catch your breath, trying to steady the rush of emotions that came so suddenly.

“You need to leave,” Nicholas says again, but this time, there’s less venom in his voice, as if he’s not entirely sure whether he wants you to go or stay. His eyes linger on you a beat too long before he turns and walks away, disappearing into the shadows as if he was never there at all.

You stand there, heart still racing, the taste of that almost-kiss still on your lips. Nicholas is dangerous, that much is clear. But the danger isn’t enough to keep you away. If anything, it only draws you in deeper. And now, with each passing second, you’re more intrigued than ever.

Hours later, you’re back in your apartment, pacing, replaying the encounter over and over. The way he looked at you. The way you felt, pinned against the bar, caught between distrust and desire. You can’t shake the feeling that Nicholas is more than just a missing person. There’s something else going on—something bigger, darker, and much more dangerous than you initially thought.

A soft knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. You freeze. It’s late. Too late for visitors. Your heart jumps into your throat as you approach the door cautiously. You don’t have to guess who it is.

When you open it, Nicholas stands there, rain dripping from his hair, his expression unreadable.

“I warned you to stay away,” he says quietly, but there’s no threat in his voice now—just exhaustion. “I meant it.”

You don’t move, don’t say a word, as he steps closer, the space between you charged with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. For a moment, you think he’s going to leave again, but instead, he does the one thing you didn’t expect.

He reaches for you, pulling you against him in one swift motion, pinning you to the wall just like before, but this time, there’s no mistaking the desire burning between you. His breath is warm on your skin, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. The tension is unbearable, a tightrope strung between passion and control.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, Nicholas pulls back, leaving you breathless, wanting more, and more confused than ever.

“Stay away,” he says one last time, his voice low, almost pleading. Then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, heart pounding in the silence, knowing full well you’re in too deep to turn back now.

And the chase isn’t over. It’s only just begun.

It’s late—far too late for you to still be working, but you can’t stop. Nicholas has burrowed under your skin, an unsolved puzzle, pulling you deeper into a world you weren’t ready for. The usual thrill of a case has transformed into something sharper, more personal. Every lead you chase only tightens the knot in your chest, the sense that something terrible is looming just out of reach.

You sit at your desk, a dim lamp casting a weak glow over your scattered notes. Every piece of the puzzle feels disconnected, as if the truth is buried beneath layers of deceit you haven’t yet peeled away. Nicholas’s warnings replay in your head—Stay away—but how can you? There’s something about him that doesn’t fit with the Hollywood star persona. The charm, the danger, the secrets—they’ve drawn you in like moth to flame.

Your phone buzzes, cutting through the silence. You glance at the screen, an anonymous number flashing. Your gut twists in warning, but you answer anyway.

“There’s someone you should see,” a gruff voice on the other end says without preamble. “Nicholas isn’t the only one hiding.”

Before you can respond, the line goes dead, leaving a heavy sense of dread in its wake. Whoever that was, they know you’re looking for Nicholas. And more troubling—they know where to find you.

A flicker of fear sparks in your chest, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the burning need to see this through. You gather your things and head out into the night, the cool air biting at your skin. You should be more careful. You should probably stop digging into Nicholas’s life altogether. But curiosity—and something much stronger—drives you onward.

The address from the mysterious call leads you to a warehouse on the city’s outskirts, a place that looks abandoned, forgotten. But you know better. Abandoned buildings like this are where secrets hide. You step out of your car, pulling your jacket tight around you as you approach the entrance. The air feels heavy, thick with anticipation.

As you enter, the dim light inside reveals a few figures moving in the shadows. Instinctively, your hand moves to the small knife tucked in your coat—just in case. You’ve been in situations like this before, where danger isn’t just a possibility; it’s a guarantee.

Suddenly, you catch movement to your right. A figure darts past one of the broken windows—a man, tall and lean, but definitely not Nicholas. You follow, slipping deeper into the warehouse. Your pulse quickens as you realize you’re not alone in tailing him.

You crouch behind a stack of crates, watching as the man exchanges something with another figure—money, perhaps, or information. You can’t quite make out the details, but whatever it is, it’s important. Your gut tells you it has something to do with Nicholas. You edge closer, trying to catch a clearer glimpse when—

BAM!

The sound of gunfire rips through the air, sharp and deafening. You drop to the ground as instinct kicks in, adrenaline surging through your veins. Shouts echo around the warehouse, followed by the screech of tires outside. Whoever fired those shots isn’t here to negotiate.

Before you can react, more shots ring out. You press yourself against the cold concrete, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. You’re caught in the middle of something you don’t fully understand. This isn’t just about finding Nicholas anymore—this is something far more dangerous.

Suddenly, you hear rapid footsteps approaching from behind. You whirl around, your knife ready in your hand, but you’re not fast enough. Strong hands grab you, pulling you upright and slamming you into the nearest wall. Your heart races as you catch a glimpse of your attacker’s face—one of the men from earlier. His eyes are wild with fury.

“Who the hell are you?” he growls, his breath hot on your face.

You don’t have time to answer before another gunshot rings out, this one close enough that you feel the vibration through the wall. The man jerks, his grip on you loosening as his eyes widen in shock. Blood seeps through his shirt, and he crumples to the ground in front of you.

Standing where the man had been is Nicholas.

Your heart lurches as he steps toward you, his expression dark and unreadable. He’s holding a gun, still aimed at where the man fell, his posture rigid with tension. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the sounds of distant shouting and footsteps echoing in the background.

“Are you okay?” Nicholas asks, his voice rough and low, the concern in it barely masked by the sharp edge of adrenaline.

You nod, still breathless from the close call. “What the hell is going on, Nicholas?”

His eyes flash with something unreadable, and instead of answering, he grabs your arm and pulls you toward the far exit. “There’s no time. We have to get out of here.”

You resist, yanking your arm back. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening!”

Nicholas glares at you, his jaw clenched tight. For a moment, you think he might actually walk away and leave you to fend for yourself. But then, his shoulders sag just a little, and he looks at you with something like regret in his eyes.

“There are people after me. Dangerous people. You’re caught in the middle of something bigger than you realize.” His voice is low, intense. “Now, come with me, or you won’t get out of here alive.”

You hesitate, your mind racing. You should be furious with him, should demand more answers. But the urgency in his voice and the way his eyes flick to the shadows behind you tells you that now isn’t the time for questions. There’s real danger here, and it’s closing in fast.

Without another word, you let him lead you out through the back, dodging the shadows that seem to creep closer with every step. Once outside, Nicholas pulls you into a narrow alley behind the building, pressing you both against the wall, listening for any signs of pursuit.

The night feels impossibly still compared to the chaos you’ve just escaped, and the tension between you is suffocating. You’re pressed against him, both of you breathing heavily, the cold night air doing nothing to cool the heat radiating from him.

“Why did you come back?” he asks suddenly, his voice raw with something you can’t quite place. “I warned you to stay away.”

“I couldn’t,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I needed to know the truth.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. And then, before you can process it, he’s kissing you.

The kiss is hard, desperate, fueled by adrenaline and fear. It’s as if both of you are trying to erase the danger, the chaos, by clinging to this one moment of connection. His hands cup your face, his lips urgent against yours, and you feel yourself melting into him, into the heat and intensity of it all.

When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless, your heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the danger you’ve just escaped.

“This is going to get worse,” Nicholas says quietly, his forehead resting against yours. “You need to leave this alone. For your own safety.”

But as you look into his eyes, you know that leaving is no longer an option. Not now. Not after this.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly, and you mean it. Whatever this is—this danger, this desire—you’re in it now, and there’s no turning back.

Nicholas nods, as if he expected nothing less from you. His grip tightens on your hand as he pulls you deeper into the night, into the shadows, and into a world far more dangerous than you ever could have imagined.

The only question now is whether you’ll survive it.

The morning after the warehouse incident dawns with a strange sense of calm, but you know it’s deceptive. The sun filters through your blinds, casting faint patterns on the floor, but the warmth it offers does nothing to ease the cold knot in your stomach. You’re on edge, constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next explosion of danger.

It’s been two days since Nicholas pulled you out of that warehouse, his hands still warm on your skin, his kiss lingering like an unresolved question. Two days since you promised yourself that you wouldn’t walk away from this, no matter how deep it pulled you into his world.

But you need answers. Not just about him, but about everything that’s happening. You’ve followed enough leads to know that this isn’t just about a missing person anymore. Nicholas is hiding something, and not just from the world—he’s hiding it from you.

You head into your office, determined to sift through the clues you’ve gathered. You spread out the files, notes, photos, all of it in disarray but slowly coming together like a jigsaw puzzle. Every piece points to something bigger. There’s more than just a criminal network involved; it feels like you’ve stepped into a web of international proportions. And Nicholas? He’s at the center.

The knock at the door interrupts your thoughts, and before you can respond, it swings open. Nicholas strides in, his presence filling the room instantly. He’s dressed differently today, no longer the laid-back Hollywood star or the dangerous figure from the warehouse. There’s something official about him, almost… professional.

“Do you ever knock?” you ask, standing up from your desk, your tone sharper than you intend.

Nicholas stops in front of your desk, his eyes scanning the mess of papers, his jaw clenched. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” You cross your arms, trying to keep your guard up even though his very presence makes it difficult. “About how you keep dragging me into your world without giving me any answers?”

He glances at the files on your desk, his expression darkening. “You’ve been digging.”

“I’m a private investigator. It’s kind of what I do.”

Nicholas lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair as if he’s trying to figure out how to begin. His gaze meets yours, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable, in his eyes. It’s a look that makes your stomach tighten with anticipation.

“I owe you an explanation,” he admits, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

You blink, surprised. This is the first time he’s willingly offered anything close to the truth. Your defenses lower just slightly, and you gesture for him to sit.

He doesn’t. Instead, he leans against your desk, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes never leaving yours.

“The reason I disappeared,” he begins, “the reason I’ve been in hiding—it’s not just about me. It’s about something much bigger. I’m not just an actor. I’m… working undercover.”

You feel your heart skip a beat, the words hitting you like a punch. “Undercover? As in law enforcement?”

“Not quite.” Nicholas’s jaw tightens. “I’ve been working with an international task force. We’re taking down an organization that’s been running an extensive criminal network for years. Drugs, weapons, human trafficking—it’s all connected. I’ve been posing as someone they could use, someone with enough money and fame to help them move product under the radar.”

You stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying. It makes sense, all of it. The danger, the secrecy, the way he’s been acting. But it doesn’t make it any easier to digest.

“So, all of this—the disappearances, the shady dealings, everything I’ve been following—it’s part of your cover?” you ask, your voice a mix of disbelief and frustration.

Nicholas nods. “Yes. And now that you’re involved, you’re in danger too.”

A heavy silence falls between you, and the weight of what he’s saying sinks in. You’re no longer just chasing a missing person case. You’re entangled in something far more dangerous—an international criminal ring, and Nicholas is right in the middle of it.

“How long have you been doing this?” you ask, your mind racing.

“Almost two years,” he replies, his voice grim. “At first, it was just gathering intel, getting close to the people running the operation. But it’s grown bigger, more dangerous. The deeper I go, the more risk there is.”

You sit down, trying to wrap your mind around everything. Two years. He’s been living a lie for two years, pretending to be someone he’s not. The Hollywood persona, the actor’s life—it was all just a cover for his real mission.

“And now you’ve dragged me into it,” you say, a mix of anger and resignation in your tone.

Nicholas pushes away from the desk, stepping closer to you, his expression serious. “I didn’t want to involve you. I told you to stay away, but you wouldn’t. You kept digging, and now you’re in as deep as I am.”

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding. There’s no turning back now, no way to untangle yourself from this mess. And a part of you, the part that’s always been drawn to danger, knows that you don’t want to.

“So, what happens now?” you ask, your voice steadier than you feel.

Nicholas takes a deep breath, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Now, we work together. You’ve already gathered valuable information. You can help me finish this.”

A surge of adrenaline pulses through you at the thought. The idea of working alongside Nicholas, of diving even deeper into this dangerous world, sends a thrill down your spine. But there’s something else, too. Something that makes your heart beat faster whenever he’s near.

“I’m not just going to be your pawn,” you warn, standing up and facing him.

He smirks, but there’s a seriousness beneath it. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before you can respond, his phone buzzes, breaking the tension. Nicholas glances at the screen, his expression hardening. “We’ve got a problem,” he says, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “There’s been a development. We need to move fast.”

Your pulse quickens as he explains that a crucial meeting with one of the criminal leaders is happening tonight—a meeting that could blow his entire operation wide open. You’ll have to go undercover with him, posing as his partner to get inside.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Nicholas asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You meet his gaze head-on, adrenaline surging through your veins. “I’ve come this far. I’m not backing out now.”

He nods, a look of approval crossing his face. “Then we’re in this together.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur. You spend hours preparing, going over the details of the plan, getting into character. Nicholas coaches you on what to say, how to act, but it feels like a performance you’ve been preparing for your entire life. You’re ready.

As the sun sets, you and Nicholas head out, the tension between you palpable. Every glance, every touch feels charged with the weight of what’s to come. The mission is dangerous, yes, but there’s something else simmering beneath the surface—something neither of you can ignore.

The plan is simple: attend the meeting, gather as much intel as possible, and get out before anyone realizes who you really are. But as you stand beside Nicholas, dressed in a sleek, professional outfit that screams wealth and power, you can’t help but feel the electricity in the air. The danger, the thrill—it’s intoxicating.

When Nicholas slips his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as you enter the meeting, your pulse quickens. You can’t tell if it’s because of the mission or because of the heat radiating from him.

The room is filled with high-profile criminals, their eyes assessing you both as you make your entrance. Nicholas plays his part flawlessly, his charm and confidence drawing people in, but his grip on you tightens ever so slightly—a silent reminder that the danger is very real.

As the meeting progresses, tension mounts. You exchange subtle glances with Nicholas, every look charged with unspoken meaning. But the mission takes a dangerous turn when one of the men—a high-ranking figure in the criminal network—fixes his gaze on you.

“Who’s this?” he asks, suspicion lacing his voice.

Nicholas doesn’t miss a beat, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulls you closer. “This is my partner,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with authority. “She’s been helping me with some of our more… delicate matters.”

The man’s eyes narrow, but Nicholas’s confident tone seems to placate him, for now. The rest of the night passes in a blur of tense conversations, subtle glances, and mounting danger. You can feel the eyes on you, the suspicion lurking beneath every smile.

By the time the meeting ends, you’re on edge, your heart pounding with adrenaline. But you and Nicholas managed to gather the intel you needed, and for now, you’re in the clear.

As you step outside into the cool night air, Nicholas finally relaxes, his grip on you loosening. But instead of stepping away, he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You did good tonight.”

The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you forget the danger. All you can feel is him—his body pressed against yours, his hand resting on your hip.

“We’re not out

“We’re not out of this yet,” Nicholas finishes, his voice a low whisper that hums against your skin.

You tilt your head slightly, your pulse hammering in your ears as you force yourself to focus. The mission isn’t over, not by a long shot. But it’s hard to think when his proximity stirs emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried. You step back slightly, creating just enough distance to breathe, but his hand lingers on your hip, as if reluctant to let go.

“I did what I had to,” you say, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat at the intensity in his gaze. “Now, tell me the rest. You didn’t drag me into this just to play dress-up.”

Nicholas sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks away for a moment, scanning the darkened street, as if making sure you’re alone. Finally, he turns back to you, his expression conflicted.

“I didn’t want to bring you in at all,” he admits, his voice rough. “But I had no choice. After what happened at the warehouse, you were in too deep. They know about you now.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. You knew, on some level, that stepping into Nicholas’s world meant putting yourself in danger, but hearing him confirm it solidifies the gravity of the situation. You’re a target now, just like him.

“Who’s ‘they’?” you ask, your voice more controlled than you feel.

“The Syndicate,” Nicholas says grimly. “The organization I’ve been working to take down. They run everything—from trafficking to black-market arms deals—and they have eyes everywhere.”

The Syndicate. You’ve heard whispers of the name before, but now, hearing it directly from Nicholas, the weight of it feels even more ominous.“And you’re undercover, trying to take them down from the inside,” you say, piecing the puzzle together. “That’s why you’ve been on the run.”

He nods. “I was getting too close. My cover started to slip, and they began to suspect me. So I disappeared for a while, laying low. But now things are escalating, and they’re looking for any loose ends to tie up. That includes you.”

The realization of how close you’ve come to the edge settles in. You’ve tangled yourself in something far more dangerous than you anticipated, but instead of fear, you feel an unexpected surge of determination. If the Syndicate thinks they can use you as leverage, they’ve underestimated you.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask, your voice steady. “How do we take them down?”

Nicholas steps closer again, his dark eyes searching yours. “We work together. I need your help. You’ve already uncovered more than you realize, and with what we learned tonight, we’re closer than ever to getting inside their inner circle.”

Your chest tightens with the weight of his words. He’s putting his trust in you—something he’s clearly not accustomed to doing. But there’s more to this than just the mission. The tension between you, the undeniable pull—it’s growing stronger, more dangerous. And right now, you’re not sure which is the greater risk: the Syndicate or Nicholas himself.

“Alright,” you say, your voice firm. “But I’m not just some bystander. If we’re doing this, I’m all in.”

Nicholas’s eyes flash with something unreadable, but he nods, his expression softening slightly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You both linger there for a moment, the quiet street around you contrasting the storm of emotions churning inside. There’s so much left unsaid between you, so much unresolved tension. But right now, the mission takes precedence. The Syndicate is closing in, and you can’t afford any distractions—no matter how intoxicating they might be.

“We need to go,” Nicholas finally says, breaking the silence. “It’s not safe here.”

You nod, falling into step beside him as you head toward his car. The ride back to your safe house is filled with an uncomfortable silence, both of you lost in thought. The night’s events have raised more questions than answers, but one thing is clear: you’re in this now, and there’s no turning back.

When you finally arrive at the safe house, you both slip inside, the tension still thick in the air. Nicholas locks the door behind you, his movements tense, alert. You watch him for a moment, studying the lines of his face, the way his jaw tightens as if he’s constantly on edge.

“You’re different now,” you say, your voice softer than you intend. “Not just because of tonight, but… this whole thing. It’s changed you.”

Nicholas turns to face you, his expression guarded. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Then tell me,” you push, stepping closer. “You owe me that much.”

He exhales sharply, his eyes darkening as he regards you. “I didn’t ask for this life,” he says, his voice low, almost bitter. “I was supposed to just be an actor. That’s all I wanted—to live a normal life, to stay out of all this. But then I got pulled in, and once you’re in, there’s no getting out.”

The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. You’ve seen him in control, always keeping his emotions in check, but now there’s a rawness to him that makes your heart ache. You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, and the contact sparks something between you.

“Nicholas…” you start, but the words die in your throat.

He looks at you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. And before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you’re closing the distance between you.

The kiss is explosive, like a dam breaking, releasing all the pent-up emotions and tension that have been simmering between you for weeks. Nicholas’s hands are on you instantly, pulling you closer, his lips rough, desperate against yours. It’s like he’s been holding back for too long, and now that he’s let go, there’s no stopping it.

Your back hits the wall as Nicholas presses against you, his body hot and hard against yours. The room feels like it’s spinning, the heat between you building with every frantic touch, every gasp of breath. It’s overwhelming, consuming, but you can’t stop—neither of you can.

For a brief moment, the danger, the mission, the Syndicate—all of it fades away. There’s only the two of you, lost in the whirlwind of desire and need.

When you finally pull apart, breathless and flushed, you stare at each other, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air. Nicholas steps back, his chest heaving, but his eyes are still locked on yours.

“We can’t… we can’t let this get in the way,” he says, his voice rough, though it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You nod, though you’re not sure you believe it either. The pull between you is too strong, too undeniable. But he’s right—there’s too much at stake to let your emotions cloud your judgment.

“I know,” you say, your voice steady, even though your heart is still racing.

Nicholas runs a hand through his hair, his gaze softening as he watches you. “We’ll figure this out. But for now… we need to focus on the mission.”

You nod again, forcing yourself to push aside the emotions swirling inside you. The Syndicate is still out there, and every second you waste is a second closer to them finding you.

“Right,” you say, your voice firm. “Let’s finish this.”

And as you stand there, the weight of the mission hanging between you, you realize that no matter what happens next—whether you take down the Syndicate or not—nothing will ever be the same between you and Nicholas.

The next few days are a whirlwind of preparation and anticipation. With Nicholas by your side, the world feels different—charged with an energy that both excites and terrifies you. The thrill of the mission looms large in your mind, but so does the tantalizing reality of your deepening connection with him.

You spend hours poring over files, piecing together information about the Syndicate and its operations. Nicholas is meticulous, guiding you through the layers of deception he’s encountered. Every moment spent working together intensifies the bond between you, and despite the underlying tension, you find yourself lost in his focus and determination.

Finally, the night of the high-profile event arrives. As you stand in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on your outfit, you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. The black dress clings to your curves, the neckline daring yet elegant. It’s the perfect outfit to play the role of a wealthy socialite. You glance at the clock, your heart racing as you anticipate Nicholas’s arrival.

When he steps through the door, time seems to stand still. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, the fabric hugging his frame perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean waist. The moment you lay eyes on him, your breath catches. There’s an air of confidence about him that’s magnetic, and as he moves closer, you can feel the heat radiating between you.

“Wow,” he breathes, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively. “You look stunning.”

“Thanks,” you reply, feeling a rush of warmth flood your cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a thrill down your spine. But his expression shifts as he steps closer, his gaze turning serious. “Remember, this is just a performance. We have to stay in character at all times. The moment anyone suspects us, everything falls apart.”

“I know,” you say, swallowing the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “But we’re also pretending to be a couple, right? That adds a layer of complexity.”

Nicholas’s lips curl into a smirk. “Complexity is one way to put it. Just stick close to me, and let’s keep our story straight.”

You nod, trying to suppress the rush of excitement mingled with anxiety. This isn’t just a game anymore; it’s a high-stakes dance on the edge of danger.

As you both make your way to the event, the ambiance shifts from the quiet intimacy of the safe house to the bustling energy of the gala. The venue is an opulent hotel ballroom, adorned with crystal chandeliers and elegant décor. The air is thick with the laughter of the elite, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the soft strains of a live band playing in the background.

“Stay close,” Nicholas murmurs as he takes your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, and you instinctively lean into him, feeling safe and exhilarated.

The crowd swirls around you, and as you navigate through the sea of well-dressed guests, Nicholas introduces you to various attendees, spinning tales of your wealth and influence. He’s in his element, effortlessly charming everyone with his charisma, and you can’t help but admire the way he commands the room.

But beneath the polished surface, you can sense the tension in the air. You keep your eyes peeled for any signs of danger, scanning the room for familiar faces associated with the Syndicate. Each time Nicholas leans in to whisper something sultry in your ear, the heat between you ignites, making it harder to maintain your focus.

“Let’s find somewhere a little quieter,” he suggests, a playful glint in his eye. You nod, your heart racing as he leads you away from the crowd, toward a secluded balcony that overlooks the city lights.

The moment you step outside, the cool breeze brushes against your skin, providing a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you. Nicholas leans against the railing, looking out over the cityscape, and you take a moment to admire him—his profile strong and defined against the night sky.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing at you sideways. “You look a little overwhelmed.”

“I’m fine,” you assure him, even though your heart is racing for a different reason. “It’s just… a lot to take in.”

Nicholas steps closer, his body radiating warmth as he closes the distance between you. “Just remember to breathe. We’ve got this.”

As he speaks, the chemistry between you crackles like electricity. The way he looks at you makes your heart skip a beat, and despite the looming threat, the desire swirling in the air is palpable. You can feel it—their shared breaths, the closeness drawing you in, and the way his gaze flickers down to your lips.

Before you can think, you lean in, seeking the warmth of his body, and he meets you halfway, their lips colliding in a heated kiss. It’s hungry and desperate, an unspoken promise of everything you both want but can’t yet fully embrace. The world around you fades, leaving only the two of you suspended in this moment of passion and chaos.

When you finally pull away, your breath mingles with his, both of you panting as you struggle to regain your composure. “We should… get back,” you murmur, though part of you longs to stay in this intimate bubble, away from the prying eyes and dangers of the night.

“Yeah,” he agrees, though his eyes are still dark with desire. “But I think we’re going to need to play this part a little more convincingly.”

Your heart races at the implications of his words. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we need to give them a show,” he says, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “If we’re going to convince the Syndicate that we’re a couple, we need to act like one.”

His words hang in the air between you, charged with potential. You know what he’s suggesting, and a thrill of excitement runs through you. This is more than just a mission now; it’s a game where the stakes are life and death, but it’s also a dance that tests the boundaries of your connection.

“Alright, show me how it’s done,” you say, your voice steady as you take a step closer.

Nicholas smirks, that devil-may-care charm igniting a spark of courage within you. “Follow my lead.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you head back inside. The energy shifts as you rejoin the crowd, the vibrant chatter surrounding you. You fall into step beside him, the charade deepening as you lean into him, playing the part of the enamored socialite.

Nicholas effortlessly navigates through conversations, keeping up appearances while subtly gathering information from the people around you. You watch him work, fascinated by how he switches from charming to serious in an instant, his eyes sharp and alert beneath his playful demeanor.

As the night unfolds, you find yourself drawn into the role more than you expected. When Nicholas leans in, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, you realize you’re not just pretending anymore. The way he touches you, the way he looks at you—it all feels too real, too intoxicating.

At one point, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “The main players will be here soon. We need to find out who they are.”

“Right,” you nod, your heart racing as the adrenaline of the mission heightens your senses.

Just as he pulls back, a figure catches your eye across the room—a man clad in a sharply tailored suit, his presence commanding. There’s something about him that sets your instincts on high alert. You don’t recognize him, but Nicholas’s body stiffens slightly beside you.

“Do you see him?” he murmurs, eyes narrowing as he observes the man. “That’s Victor Reyes. He’s one of the top operatives in the Syndicate. If we can get close to him, it might lead us right to the heart of their operation.”

You glance back at Nicholas, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. “What do we do?”

Nicholas’s eyes flicker with determination. “We get close to him, but we can’t blow our cover. Let’s keep our act together while we gather intel.”

You nod, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you both weave your way through the crowd, each step bringing you closer to the danger you seek. As you approach Victor, you feel the tension in the air rise, a palpable anticipation buzzing between you and Nicholas.

“Act natural,” Nicholas whispers as you reach the group surrounding Victor. “And remember, you’re with me.”

You plaster on a smile, feeling the weight of the moment as you engage with the other guests, keeping the conversation flowing as you subtly edge closer to Victor. Your heart races in your chest, both from the thrill of the encounter and the sheer proximity to the man who could unravel everything.

As the night continues, you and Nicholas play your parts perfectly, dancing between flirting and feigning disinterest in the dangerous conversations that swirl around you. With each passing moment, the connection between you grows deeper, electrifying the air around you.

But just as you feel yourself getting lost in the moment, Victor’s gaze flickers toward you, and a glimmer of recognition sparks in his eyes. You freeze, heart pounding as you try to maintain your composure. You can feel Nicholas’s presence beside you, an unspoken reassurance as you both play your parts flawlessly.

“Ah, you must be the new socialite everyone’s been talking about,” Victor says, his voice smooth and laced with curiosity. “Tell me, what’s your secret?”

Your pulse

Your pulse quickens as Victor’s eyes narrow, scrutinizing you with a blend of intrigue and challenge. You can feel Nicholas tense beside you, his protective energy radiating off him, but you maintain your composure, forcing a smile as you meet Victor’s gaze.

“Just the usual secrets of success,” you reply lightly, your voice steady despite the intensity of the moment. “A little charm, a little finesse. You know how it is in this world.”

Victor chuckles softly, leaning closer as if to catch every word. “Indeed, charm is essential. But I find it’s also about knowing the right people.” His gaze drifts over to Nicholas, a knowing look passing between them. “And who you associate with.”

Nicholas steps in smoothly, his arm tightening around your waist as he tilts his head slightly in Victor's direction. “This is my partner, after all. She’s got a knack for finding the most interesting circles to mix in.”

“Interesting circles, indeed.” Victor’s gaze shifts back to you, a flicker of curiosity igniting in his eyes. “I’d like to know more about you. What brings you to this particular gathering?”

You catch the glint of danger in his question, the way he’s trying to gauge your motives. Instinctively, you lean a little closer to Nicholas, allowing the chemistry between you to speak volumes. “Just looking to expand my horizons and connect with influential people,” you say, your tone light, but your mind races as you consider your next words.

“Always a good idea,” Victor replies, his expression unreadable. “And with your partner here, you couldn’t have made a better choice.”

“Absolutely,” you say, your smile unwavering. “Nicholas has been quite the guide in this world.”

Nicholas smirks, his confidence radiating as he interjects, “And we make quite the team, don’t we?” He leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Stick with me; I’ll keep you safe.”

The intimacy of his words sends a shiver down your spine, and you fight to keep your composure. You glance around the room, noting how the other guests watch the interaction unfold, some with mild interest, others with palpable curiosity.

“What do you do, Nicholas?” Victor asks, shifting his focus, his tone deceptively casual. “You seem quite well-connected.”

Nicholas chuckles, a lighthearted sound that belies the tension in the air. “Let’s just say I dabble in a few businesses. A little of this, a little of that. It’s all very exciting.” He leans forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But nothing nearly as thrilling as our friend here.”

“Thrilling, indeed,” Victor replies, his smile tight, but his interest piqued. “I have a keen eye for talent. Perhaps we could discuss opportunities that might interest both of you.”

The suggestion hangs between you, and a warning bell rings in your head. You know Nicholas’s real agenda here, and while the prospect of working with someone like Victor could be advantageous, it also carries significant risks.

“Opportunities are always welcome,” you say smoothly, masking the tension building within you. “But I’m sure Nicholas has a busy schedule. Isn’t that right?”

Nicholas’s gaze meets yours, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m always open to exploring new ventures, but tonight’s more about enjoying the festivities, wouldn’t you agree?”

Victor studies both of you, his expression inscrutable. “Of course. But let’s not let this opportunity pass us by.” He gestures toward the grand room filled with guests. “Perhaps you’d like to join me for a drink later? I know a few spots that might be more… enlightening.”

A chill runs down your spine. The invitation feels loaded, as if he’s testing the waters to see how deep your involvement runs. You exchange a glance with Nicholas, who nods subtly, his demeanor calm but alert.

“We’ll see,” Nicholas says, his tone noncommittal but friendly. “For now, let’s enjoy the night.” He expertly steers the conversation away from Victor, guiding you back toward the crowd.

As you walk away, your heart races, the weight of Victor’s gaze lingering on your back. “That was close,” you murmur, leaning closer to Nicholas, your pulse pounding in your ears. “He’s definitely onto us.”

Nicholas nods, his expression serious now. “Yeah, we have to tread carefully. He’s smart and observant, which means we need to keep our wits about us.”

“What’s our next move?” you ask, glancing back to ensure Victor hasn’t followed.

“For now, we gather more intel,” Nicholas replies, his gaze scanning the room. “Let’s keep mingling and see if we can spot any other players. If we can get a sense of who’s who in this crowd, we can better navigate our next steps.”

As the night wears on, you move through the gathering, chatting with other guests while keeping a watchful eye on Victor. Nicholas remains by your side, his presence both comforting and electrifying, a constant reminder of the stakes involved.

After an hour, you find yourselves near the bar, exchanging pleasantries with a group of wealthy patrons. You laugh and flirt, letting the act come naturally as you try to gather information. The tension between you and Nicholas is palpable, though, and every time he leans in to whisper a witty remark, it sends your heart racing.

“Do you think we can trust anyone here?” you ask quietly, scanning the crowd. “Everyone seems to have their own agenda.”

Nicholas nods, his expression thoughtful. “It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, but the risk is worth it if we can gather enough information. Just stay alert. We need to keep our cover intact.”

As you sip your drink, you notice a commotion near the entrance. A group of men in dark suits has arrived, their demeanor sharp and commanding. They move through the crowd with an air of authority, immediately drawing attention.

“There they are,” Nicholas murmurs, his focus shifting. “The ones we need to watch. The Syndicate’s higher-ups.”

You turn to look, and your breath catches as you spot a familiar face among them—a man with a scar running down his cheek, a haunting reminder of the dangers you’ve been trying to evade. You didn’t expect to see him here, and the realization sends a shiver down your spine.

“Is that—” you start to say, but Nicholas interrupts.

“Keep calm,” he warns, his voice low. “If they see us panicking, it could blow our cover.”

You nod, forcing yourself to breathe steadily as you watch the group. Nicholas stands close, his arm around your waist, the connection grounding you in the face of potential danger. But as the men circulate through the crowd, their presence feels like a storm brewing.

Suddenly, the tension becomes palpable, and without warning, the lights flicker, dimming for a moment before returning to their full brightness. You can feel Nicholas tense beside you, his eyes narrowing as he scans the room.

“What was that?” you whisper, looking up at him.

“Just stay close to me,” he replies, his voice low but firm. “It could be a distraction. They might be planning something.”

As the music swells and the guests resume their conversations, you can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in your stomach. The air feels charged, and you sense the impending danger lurking just beneath the surface.

Nicholas tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you in closer. “We need to move,” he says, his tone urgent but controlled. “Let’s find a way to gather more information about those men without drawing attention to ourselves.”

With every ounce of your instincts telling you to run, you follow his lead, navigating through the crowd with purpose. You can feel your heart racing, the thrill of danger intensifying as you blend in with the other guests, slipping further into the shadows of the evening.

As you weave through the throng of people, Nicholas stays close, the heat of his body radiating against yours. You exchange glances, a silent understanding passing between you—this isn’t just a mission anymore; it’s a fight for survival, and you’re in it together.

Finally, you spot a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from the main flow of guests. You duck into the alcove, the darkness enveloping you as you press against the wall, breathing heavily from the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Is this a good spot?” you ask, glancing up at Nicholas, who remains focused, his eyes scanning the area.

“Let’s listen in,” he replies, nodding toward a nearby group of men, one of whom is speaking animatedly about recent dealings with the Syndicate. You strain to hear, the tension thickening as you grasp for any useful information.

The conversation is tense, filled with veiled threats and promises of loyalty. The men are discussing operations, their words dripping with malice, and you can’t help but feel a chill run down your spine as you realize just how deep the web of corruption runs.

Nicholas glances at you, his expression serious. “We need to be careful. If they catch us eavesdropping—”

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts. The men stop talking, their eyes narrowing as they scan the room. You can feel the tension in the air as they shift, their attention honing in on your alcove.

“Let’s go,” Nicholas hisses, grabbing your hand and pulling you deeper into the shadows. You follow his lead, heart racing as you duck into a narrow hallway, desperately hoping to escape their gaze.

But as you navigate the darkness, the sound of footsteps follows closely behind, the realization dawning that the men are

The sound of footsteps echoes through the narrow hallway, a relentless reminder that you’re not safe yet. Panic bubbles up inside you as you sprint alongside Nicholas, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You can hear the hushed voices behind you, growing closer.

“Quick, this way!” Nicholas urges, pulling you into a side corridor that leads to a series of smaller rooms. The dim light flickers overhead, casting long shadows that play tricks on your mind as you press forward.

As you run, you glance back, catching a glimpse of the men as they round the corner. Their expressions are hard and determined, the dangerous glint in their eyes sending a chill down your spine. You can’t shake the feeling that they’re on to you.

Nicholas leads you into an empty storage room, its contents stacked haphazardly against the walls. The door creaks shut behind you, and he quickly moves to block it with a nearby crate. The sound of footsteps draws nearer, and you hold your breath, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Stay quiet,” he whispers, his voice low but urgent. You nod, the gravity of the situation sinking in as you press against the cool wall, trying to calm your racing heart.

The footsteps pause just outside the door, and you can hear the men’s hushed voices, discussing your appearance and the fact that you had been near Victor. Your stomach knots as you realize how close you are to being discovered.

“They were definitely eavesdropping,” one of the men says, his voice gravelly and filled with menace. “We can’t let them get away.”

“Split up and search the area,” another replies. “They can’t have gone far. We’ll find them.”

Your breath quickens as you grip Nicholas’s arm tightly, feeling the tension radiate off him. His gaze is intense, his mind racing as he weighs their options.

After a tense moment, the footsteps recede, and Nicholas releases a quiet sigh of relief. “We need to move, now,” he murmurs, scanning the room for an exit. “If they’re searching for us, we can’t stay here.”

He leads you to a back door, and you follow closely behind, your heart racing. As he pushes it open, the door creaks, and you wince at the sound, fearing it might draw attention. But the hallway beyond is empty, the only light filtering in from a small window at the far end.

“Go!” Nicholas urges, gently pushing you forward. You step into the hallway, adrenaline flooding your system as you hurry to keep pace with him.

As you move cautiously, you hear muffled voices growing fainter in the distance. Nicholas pauses, glancing back to ensure you’re not followed. “We have to find a way out of this area,” he whispers. “Stick close to me and stay quiet.”

You nod, focusing on his words as he leads you further into the maze of hallways. The tension in the air feels electric, and you can’t shake the fear of being discovered. The stakes are higher than ever, and with every step, the danger looms closer.

Finally, you reach a stairwell leading down. “This way,” Nicholas says, his voice firm as he guides you down the steps. The silence envelops you, broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the distant chatter of the gala above.

As you descend, you can feel your heart racing. You can’t help but wonder how this night, filled with excitement and seduction, has turned into a desperate escape. The thrill of danger hangs in the air, intertwining with the electricity between you and Nicholas.

When you reach the bottom, you emerge into a dimly lit hallway that seems to lead to a staff area. The distant clinking of glasses and soft music echoes from above, a stark contrast to the tension you feel.

“Let’s find an exit,” Nicholas says, his voice low but steady. “We can regroup outside and plan our next move.”

You nod, glancing around at the unfamiliar surroundings. As you move through the corridor, you catch a glimpse of a door marked “Employees Only.”

“Here,” you suggest, pointing toward the door. “This might lead us out.”

Nicholas moves toward it, pushing it open just enough to peek inside. After a brief moment, he nods and gestures for you to follow him. You step inside, the faint scent of cleaning supplies mingling with the air.

The room is small and cluttered, filled with boxes and supplies. You can hear the muffled sounds of the party echoing outside, and for a moment, you feel an overwhelming sense of isolation in this hidden corner of the world.

“Over there,” Nicholas whispers, pointing to a door at the far end of the room. “That should lead to a back entrance.”

You nod, your pulse quickening again as you move toward it, feeling the weight of the moment. As you reach for the handle, a sudden thought strikes you. “Nicholas, what if they find us? What if they—”

“Shh,” he interrupts, placing a finger against his lips to silence you. His eyes are intense, full of urgency. “We have to keep moving. Trust me.”

With that, you push the door open and step outside, the cool night air hitting you like a wave. You squint against the sudden brightness of the outdoor lights, your senses heightened as you scan your surroundings.

You find yourselves in a small alley behind the hotel, a stark contrast to the opulence of the gala. The sound of music and laughter fades behind you, leaving only the hum of the city.

“Is there a way to blend in?” you ask, glancing around nervously. “We can’t just walk out into the street.”

Nicholas nods, his expression thoughtful as he scans the alley. “There should be some staff uniforms in that supply room. If we can change, we might be able to slip past anyone looking for us.”

You nod, your heart racing with the idea of disguising yourselves. “Let’s do it.”

You move quickly back inside, rummaging through the boxes until you find a couple of staff uniforms. With a mix of urgency and adrenaline, you change as quickly as possible, slipping into the dark trousers and button-up shirts that disguise your evening attire.

Nicholas pulls his hair back into a neat ponytail, the uniform transforming him into someone entirely different. You can’t help but admire how effortlessly he pulls off the look, even in the face of danger.

“Ready?” he asks, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

You nod, straightening your own outfit. “Let’s do this.”

As you step back outside, you take a deep breath, trying to suppress the anxiety swirling within you. With Nicholas by your side, the thrill of the mission mingles with a sense of hope. You have a chance to escape, to regroup and plan your next move, but you also feel the heat of the connection that’s been building between you.

“Stick close,” Nicholas says, his tone serious as you both start to walk down the alley, blending into the shadows.

You navigate your way back to the street, the bustling energy of the city wrapping around you. The gala feels like a distant memory, a world of glamour and danger that you’ve left behind.

“Where to now?” you ask, glancing up at him, your heart racing at the thought of being out in the open again.

Nicholas’s gaze flickers around the street, his mind clearly working. “We need to find a safe place to lay low for a bit. There’s a café a few blocks away that I think we can use.”

You nod, trusting his instincts as you walk side by side, the tension of the night still crackling in the air between you. The thrill of the mission intertwines with the undeniable chemistry, and with every step, the stakes feel higher.

As you reach the café, you both duck inside, the warm ambiance contrasting with the cold reality outside. The smell of coffee fills the air, and you take a moment to catch your breath, the adrenaline of the night still pulsing through your veins.

“Let’s grab a table in the corner,” Nicholas suggests, his eyes scanning the room. “We can talk strategy without anyone overhearing.”

You nod and lead the way, settling into a small booth at the back. The café buzzes with activity, the soft murmur of conversations creating a comforting backdrop as you both take a moment to regroup.

After ordering drinks, you lean across the table, your eyes locked on Nicholas. “What now? What do we do about Victor and the Syndicate?”

Nicholas takes a deep breath, his expression serious as he considers the options. “We need to gather more intel, especially on Victor and the men he was with. They’re dangerous, and if they suspect we’re onto them, we could be in real trouble.”

“But how do we do that without raising suspicion?” you ask, your mind racing with possibilities. “They know we were close to them at the gala.”

Nicholas leans back, his gaze thoughtful. “We’ll have to play a careful game. Keep mingling, stay in touch with contacts who can provide information. And if we can get a lead on where they’re operating, we might have a chance to expose them.”You nod, feeling the weight of the task ahead. “And what about us?” You hesitate, the question hanging in the air between you. “I mean… after all of this?”

Nicholas meets your gaze, his expression softening for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “Right now, we need to focus on the mission. But… I won’t lie; this connection between us complicates things.”

Your heart races at his words, the heat of desire and uncertainty swirling within you. “It

Your heart races at his words, the heat of desire and uncertainty swirling within you. “It complicates things, but in a good way, doesn’t it?” you ask, leaning forward slightly, searching his eyes for clarity.

Nicholas hesitates, his brow furrowing as he contemplates the tension between you. “It does. But we need to keep our focus. There’s too much at stake right now.” His gaze drifts away, momentarily lost in thought. “Once we’re out of this, we can figure out what this is… whatever it is.”

The unspoken words linger heavily in the air, and a thrill runs through you at the idea of what could be once the chaos subsides. The connection you share feels electric, but with danger still lurking, you can’t afford to let your guard down.

Just then, your drinks arrive, interrupting the moment. You take a sip, the warm coffee grounding you. As you glance around the café, you notice a few familiar faces in the crowd—other guests from the gala, their expressions ranging from jovial to cautious.

“Do you recognize anyone?” Nicholas asks, noticing your gaze.

“Not sure,” you reply, straining to see more clearly. “But it looks like the party might still be going strong. We might want to be careful.”

“Right,” he says, his eyes scanning the room with renewed vigilance. “We can’t afford to be seen. Let’s finish up here and regroup. I think we should check in with some of my contacts to see if they’ve heard anything about Victor or the Syndicate.”

You nod, feeling a sense of determination settle in. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep us safe,” you say, your voice steady. “I can help gather information too.”

Nicholas smiles, a hint of admiration in his gaze. “I know you can. You’re resourceful, and you’ve got skills. We’ll need that.”

As you sip your coffee, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. You glance around again, searching for any sign of danger. “Do you think they’ll come looking for us here?”

“Maybe,” he replies, frowning slightly. “But we’ve got a little time. The café is bustling, and the last thing they want is to draw attention to themselves. If we play it smart, we can slip away without a hitch.”

You finish your drink, the warmth settling in your stomach but unable to quell the tension building inside you. “What’s our exit strategy?”

Nicholas leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Once we leave here, we’ll head toward the alley. It should be clear, and then we can take a back road to avoid the main streets. I have a car parked a few blocks away.”

“Perfect,” you say, feeling a sense of relief at having a plan. “Let’s get moving then.”

After a quick check of the café to ensure the coast is clear, you both slip out the door, stepping into the cool night air. You can still hear the distant sounds of the gala, but the thrill of the chase keeps you focused on what’s ahead.

As you navigate through the back streets, the atmosphere changes from the glamour of the gala to the gritty reality of the city. The shadows stretch long against the walls, and you feel the adrenaline kicking in as you walk quickly, the fear of being discovered pushing you forward.

“Stay close,” Nicholas instructs, his voice low as he walks beside you. “If anything feels off, just follow my lead.”

“Got it,” you reply, trying to keep your pace steady. The night is filled with sounds—distant sirens, the hum of traffic, the murmur of voices—but it feels like an illusion, a reminder that danger lurks just beyond your periphery.

As you turn a corner, you spot a group of men loitering at the entrance of an alley. The uneasy feeling in your stomach tightens, and you glance up at Nicholas, who’s already assessing the situation.

“We can’t go that way,” he whispers, pulling you back slightly. “Let’s find another route.”

You nod, instinctively clutching his arm as he leads you further down the street. Just as you round another corner, a figure steps out from the shadows, blocking your path.

It’s a tall man, dressed in dark clothing, his expression unreadable. “Going somewhere?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

Nicholas tenses beside you, and you feel a surge of fear. “We don’t want any trouble,” he says evenly, stepping slightly in front of you as a protective gesture.

“Oh, I think you do,” the man replies, his voice dripping with menace. “You’re a long way from the party, and I’d say you’re in a bit over your heads.”

“We’re just trying to get home,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “No one wants any trouble.”

The man chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. “Home? This isn’t your neighborhood, sweetheart. You shouldn’t be wandering around here alone.”

Nicholas shifts closer, his protective instinct kicking in. “We’re fine. Just let us pass.”

But the man steps forward, blocking your way. “I don’t think so. Not until I get a little something in return.”

Your heart races, and the realization hits you: he’s not just looking for a simple exchange. The threat in his voice is clear, and you can see the glint of danger in his eyes.

“What do you want?” Nicholas asks, his voice firm, but you can hear the tension lacing his words.

“Information,” the man replies, his eyes flicking between you and Nicholas. “I heard some interesting chatter at the gala about a certain Victor. You two wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

You exchange a glance with Nicholas, fear pooling in your stomach. This man has ties to the very people you’re trying to avoid. “We don’t know anything,” you say quickly, trying to maintain a façade of confidence. “Just leave us alone.”

The man’s expression darkens. “That’s too bad. I think you do know more than you’re letting on. And if you don’t want to make this difficult, I suggest you start talking.”

Nicholas takes a step closer, his body blocking you from the man’s view. “We’re not going to share anything with you. Just let us go.”

For a moment, silence hangs in the air, thick with tension. The man’s gaze sharpens as he considers your words, weighing his options.

Suddenly, you hear a commotion in the distance, the sounds of shouting and footsteps approaching. The man’s expression shifts, irritation flickering across his face. “Looks like you’ve got some company,” he says, glancing back down the street.

Without thinking, you take the opportunity. “Run!” you shout, grabbing Nicholas’s hand and bolting past the man.

The adrenaline surges through you, propelling you forward as you sprint down the alley, your heart pounding in your chest. You can hear the man shouting behind you, but you don’t dare look back.

Nicholas keeps pace beside you, his grip firm around your hand as he guides you through the maze of alleys. “This way!” he urges, leading you toward a side street that opens up into a dimly lit park.

You burst into the park, the cool night air rushing past you. The sounds of the city seem to fade as you find yourself surrounded by trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze.

“Over there!” Nicholas points to a nearby bench, and you both duck behind it, gasping for breath as you hide in the shadows.

“Do you think he followed us?” you ask, trying to catch your breath as you press your back against the cool metal of the bench.

Nicholas shakes his head, his expression serious. “Not yet, but we can’t stay here long. We need to figure out our next move.”

You nod, the gravity of the situation settling in. “What do we do now?”

He takes a deep breath, looking around the park as if searching for something. “We need to find a way to get back to the car without drawing attention. Let’s stay low and avoid the main streets.”

As you move cautiously through the park, you can feel the tension between you and Nicholas growing. The thrill of danger is intermingled with a pulse of excitement, an awareness of the connection that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

“Are you okay?” Nicholas asks, glancing back at you, his expression softening momentarily.

“I’m fine,” you reply, though you can feel your heart racing—not just from the adrenaline, but from his concern. “Just a little shaken.”

“Let’s keep moving,” he says, his voice low and steady. “We’ll find a way out of this.”

You nod, your resolve strengthening as you follow his lead. The night stretches ahead of you, filled with uncertainty, but with Nicholas by your side, you feel a flicker of hope.

As you make your way through the park, you suddenly spot a figure in the distance, standing near the edge of the trees. Your breath catches in your throat, and you grip Nicholas’s arm tighter.

“Do you see that?” you whisper, pointing toward the figure.

Nicholas squints, his expression hardening. “I see it. Stay behind me.”

As you move cautiously closer, you can make out the silhouette of a man—broad shoulders and a confident stance. The closer you get, the more familiar he looks.

“Is that…?” you start to say, recognition dawning.

“Victor,” Nicholas murmurs, his voice low. “We need to avoid him.”

But before you can respond, Victor suddenly turns, his gaze piercing through the dim light as if he senses your presence. Your heart races as he scans the area, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“We can’t let him see us,” Nicholas whispers urgently, tugging you back into the shadows of the trees. You feel the heat of his body against yours, and the sudden closeness sends a shiver of adrenaline coursing through you.

As Victor continues to search the area, you and Nicholas crouch low behind a thick bush, your breaths shallow and quiet. You can see Victor’s silhouette clearly now; he’s talking to someone on his phone, his expression tense.

“I’ll find them,” he says, his voice low and menacing. “They can’t have gotten far. They’re too curious for their own good.”

Nicholas clenches his jaw, and you can feel the tension radiating from him. “We need to stay out of sight. If he catches wind of us, it’ll be game over.”

You nod, the weight of his words pressing down on you. The stakes have never felt higher, and the danger of being discovered is palpable. You watch as Victor paces back and forth, his frustration evident.

“We can’t let them interfere with the plan,” he mutters into the phone. “I’ll send a couple of guys out to keep an eye on them. We need to control this before it gets out of hand.”

Your stomach drops at his words. They’re already planning to hunt you down, and the thought sends a chill down your spine. You glance at Nicholas, who meets your gaze with a fierce determination.

“We can’t let that happen,” he whispers. “We have to find a way to turn the tables on them.”

You nod, the idea igniting a spark of hope. “What if we gather information on them? Use it against them?”

Nicholas looks thoughtful, his eyes scanning the park for any potential routes of escape. “That’s a good idea. If we can find out where they’re meeting or what they’re planning, we might be able to expose them.”

Victor hangs up the phone, a scowl on his face. “They’ll regret crossing me,” he says under his breath before stepping further into the park, clearly looking for you.

“This is our chance,” Nicholas murmurs, his grip tightening around your hand. “We can slip away while he’s distracted.”

You nod, feeling a surge of adrenaline as you both carefully maneuver through the trees, keeping low and quiet. As you inch away from Victor’s sight, you feel the thrill of the chase and the undeniable connection between you intensifying.

Finally, you reach the edge of the park, peering around a tree to check if the coast is clear. Victor is still moving further into the shadows, the distance between you growing. “Let’s go,” Nicholas whispers, leading you toward a nearby street.

Once you’re safely across the road, you take a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs. The adrenaline from the encounter still buzzes in your veins, and you glance up at Nicholas, whose expression is a mix of relief and determination.

“We made it,” you say, your voice low but filled with awe.

“For now,” Nicholas replies, his tone serious as he scans the area. “But we need to keep moving. I don’t want to stick around here longer than necessary.”

You both set off down the street, your pace quickening as you make your way toward the car. The thrill of the evening has taken a turn, and now the tension between you feels electric. With every step, the danger that surrounds you only seems to amplify the connection.

As you near the car, you glance at Nicholas, your heart pounding with more than just fear. “What happens next?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turns to you, his gaze intense. “We’ll regroup and figure out our next move. But we need to keep our heads down for a while. I’ll reach out to some contacts, see if they can provide any intel on Victor and his operations.”

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety at the thought of what lies ahead. “And what about us? What if they’re always watching?”

Nicholas pauses, searching your eyes for a moment. “Then we’ll have to be smarter. We can’t let our guard down. But I promise you, once this is over, we’ll figure things out.”

His words hang in the air, a promise tinged with uncertainty. The tension between you feels thick and unyielding, a connection that transcends the chaos around you.

Just then, you reach the car, and Nicholas opens the door for you, a small gesture that feels both protective and intimate. You slip into the passenger seat, your heart racing with anticipation.

As he starts the engine, the low rumble fills the silence, and you look at him, feeling the weight of the night’s events. “No matter what happens, I’m with you,” you say, your voice firm. “We’ll face this together.”

He meets your gaze, a fire igniting in his eyes. “Together,” he agrees, a determined look crossing his features.

As he drives away from the park, you can’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline mixed with something deeper. The night has brought you closer, forged a connection through danger and intrigue, and as you navigate the dark streets, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

The city lights flicker outside the window, and as you lean back in your seat, you find comfort in the thought that this was just the beginning. The game was far from over, and with Nicholas by your side, you’re ready to play.

The drive back to your apartment is filled with an unsettling silence, the weight of the night’s events hanging heavy in the air. The rhythmic thump of your heart feels louder than the engine, and each passing streetlight casts fleeting shadows across Nicholas’s face, illuminating the tense lines of determination etched there.

“Do you think Victor knows we were there?” you ask, breaking the silence as you watch him navigate the darkened streets. “What if he contacts the Syndicate?”

Nicholas tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t know, but we can’t assume he doesn’t. We need to be smarter about this. They’ll be looking for us now.”

The reality of the situation settles over you like a fog. The danger is real, and it feels as though every moment you spend together increases the stakes. You glance at Nicholas, whose jaw is set in a firm line, eyes focused on the road ahead. His intensity both excites and unnerves you, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re both walking a razor’s edge.

Arriving at your apartment, you follow him inside, the door clicking shut behind you, muffling the noise of the outside world. You take a moment to catch your breath, still reeling from the night’s close calls. The adrenaline that had propelled you through the evening now leaves you feeling a mix of exhilaration and dread.

Nicholas moves around your living room, checking the windows and ensuring the curtains are drawn tight. “We need to lay low for a while. I’ll make some calls, and we can try to figure out our next move.”

You nod, feeling a rush of gratitude and concern. “What if they come looking for us?”

“We’ll be ready,” he says, his voice steady but firm. “But for now, I need you to trust me. I’ll keep you safe.”

His words send a ripple of warmth through you, mingled with fear. You’ve never been in a situation like this, but as you look at him, you realize that your trust in him has grown deeper than you anticipated. There’s something about his fierce determination that draws you in, making you feel a sense of security amidst the chaos.

“Can I help?” you ask, moving closer to him. “I want to do something, not just sit and wait.”

He glances at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. “You’re already helping just by being here. But if you’re serious, I could use your perspective. We need to figure out how much Victor knows and who he might be working with.”

You nod, determination surging through you. “Okay, let’s brainstorm. I might have some ideas.”

As you sit on the couch, Nicholas joins you, his body angled toward yours. The tension in the air shifts, morphing into something different, charged with an undercurrent of attraction that seems to grow with every passing moment.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to focus. “First, we need to think about how he found out we were at the gala. Did anyone see us together?”

Nicholas shakes his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t know. But he must have had someone watching. That means we have to be careful who we trust.”

His gaze is intense, and you can feel the heat between you rising as the conversation deepens. You want to reach out, to close the distance that feels both electrifying and overwhelming.

“Do you think there’s a mole?” you ask, attempting to steer the conversation back to safer ground, though the awareness of the attraction lingers.

“Maybe. Someone close enough to us to gather information. I’ll need to make some calls to my contacts to see if they’ve heard anything,” he replies, but his eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary.

Just then, your phone buzzes on the coffee table, interrupting the charged moment. You glance down at the screen, your heart dropping as you see a message from a familiar name: Mia.

Mia: I’ve been trying to reach you. Are you okay?

The worry in her message pulls you back to reality, the reminder of your life outside this whirlwind of danger. You hesitate, feeling the pull of your normal life but knowing you can’t share the truth with her.

“I need to respond to Mia,” you say, your voice slightly strained.

Nicholas nods, his expression serious. “Be careful. Don’t share too much.”

You pick up the phone and quickly type back, trying to keep your response vague.

You: I’m fine, just busy with work. Can’t talk now. I’ll call you later.

You hit send, but the knot in your stomach remains. The betrayal of keeping secrets from your closest friend gnaws at you. You look up to see Nicholas watching you intently.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his tone softening slightly.

“I’m just… worried about Mia. She’s my best friend. I don’t want to put her in danger,” you admit, the weight of your concern spilling out.

Nicholas shifts closer, the space between you growing smaller. “I get it. But right now, your safety is what matters. If Victor is looking for us, then anyone close to you is at risk too.”

You nod, swallowing hard. The reality of the danger sinks in further. “I understand. I just feel so trapped in this situation.”

“Just remember, we’re in this together,” he reassures you, his gaze steady and fierce. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The sincerity in his words ignites a spark inside you. You want to believe him, to trust that he will keep you safe. But as you study his face, the shadows of the night reflect in his eyes, revealing the weight he carries. There’s something deeper in his gaze—something raw and vulnerable that makes your heart race.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “That means a lot to me.”

He leans in closer, the heat radiating between you palpable. “I don’t want you to worry about anything else. Just focus on us.”

The way he says it sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire of desire that had been simmering beneath the surface. You can feel the electric tension drawing you closer, the lines between safety and attraction blurring as you find yourself caught in his gaze.

“Us,” you repeat, the word heavy with meaning. The air thickens with anticipation as you inch closer, the urge to bridge the gap overwhelming.

Then, in a sudden rush of boldness, you reach out, fingers brushing against his hand. The contact sends sparks shooting through you, and you can’t help but lean in slightly, drawn by an invisible force.

“Do you ever think about what happens after this?” you ask, your voice shaky yet steady.

Nicholas’s breath hitches slightly, and for a moment, he looks caught off guard. “I do. But right now, we have to stay focused. We can’t let our emotions get in the way.”

His words sting, but you understand the need for caution. “You’re right. But it doesn’t change what I feel.”

He studies you for a moment before responding, “What do you feel?”

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I feel like there’s something between us. Something more than just… this.”

Nicholas leans in, his voice low. “And what do you want to do about it?”

You bite your lip, your eyes locked onto his. “I want to explore it. I want to know where this could go.”

“Are you sure about this?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

He nods, closing the distance between you. “More than anything.”

His lips find yours in a soft, exploring kiss. Your hands roam his back, pulling him closer. The kiss deepens, tongues meeting and dancing in a tantalizing rhythm. You moan softly, your body pressing against his.

Nicholas trails kisses down your neck, his hands exploring your curves. You arch your back, a soft gasp escaping your lips. “You taste incredible,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire.

He leads you to the bedroom, where the soft glow of a lamp casts shadows on the walls. You stand before him, your breath coming in quick gasps. He reaches out, his fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. You shiver under his touch, your body aching for more.

He unbuttons your shirt slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. You help him, shrugging it off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a soft moan, your head tilting back.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his hands moving to unhook your bra. You step out of it, standing before him completely bare from the waist up. His eyes darken with desire, and you can feel the heat of his gaze on your skin.

You reach for his shirt, your fingers trembling slightly as you unbutton it. He helps you, pulling it off and tossing it aside. Your hands run over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath your touch. He groans softly, his hips pressing against you.

You can feel his erection through his pants, and it sends a jolt of excitement through you. You unbuckle his belt, your hands fumbling slightly in your eagerness. He kicks off his shoes, and you help him out of his pants and boxers.

He stands before you, naked and aroused. You take a moment to appreciate the sight of him, your eyes roaming over his body. He smiles, a slow, sexy smile that makes your heart race.

You guide him to the bed, lying down next to him. Your hands explore his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, the soft skin of his inner thighs. He groans softly, his hips moving against yours.

You reach down, wrapping your hand around his cock. It’s hard and hot in your hand, pulsing with his heartbeat. You stroke him slowly, your thumb brushing over the tip. He lets out a soft moan, his hips bucking slightly.

“You feel amazing,” he breathes, his hands roaming your body. He cups your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. You arch your back, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

He rolls you onto your back, his body covering yours. His lips find yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You can feel his cock pressing against your entrance, and you lift your hips, inviting him in.

He enters you slowly, inch by inch, his eyes locked onto yours. You let out a soft moan, your nails digging into his back. “You feel so good,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

He starts to move, his hips thrusting against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, your body moving in sync with his. The room fills with the soft sounds of your lovemaking, the wet smack of skin against skin, the soft moans and gasps of pleasure.

“Faster,” you whisper, your body aching for more. He complies, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. You can feel the pleasure building inside you, your body tensing with anticipation.

“Yes, right there,” you moan, your hips meeting his. He leans down, his lips capturing one of your nipples. You cry out, your body convulsing with pleasure.

He continues to thrust, his body slick with sweat. You can feel the orgasm building, your body tensing with each thrust. “I’m close,” you gasp, your nails digging into his back.

He groans, his body tensing with you. “Me too,” he whispers, his voice ragged.

You come together, your bodies shuddering with the force of your release. You cling to each other, your bodies slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in sync.

He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him. You lie there, your bodies intertwined, your breaths slowly returning to normal. You look into his eyes, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“That was…” you start, but the words fail you.

He smiles, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “Incredible,” he finishes for you.

But just then, the ringing of your phone breaks the moment, and you both startle. You glance at the screen, your heart sinking as you see another incoming message, this time from an unknown number.

Unknown: We know where you are. You can’t hide forever.

Panic grips you as you look up at Nicholas, whose expression shifts from calm to alert in an instant. “What does it say?” he demands, his voice low and tense.

You swallow hard, the words echoing in your mind. “It’s from someone who knows where I am. They’re… they’re watching us.”

Nicholas’s eyes blaze with intensity, the protective instincts surging back to the surface. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Your heart races as you stand, urgency flooding your veins. “What do we do?”

“Grab your things. We’re moving,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

#smut #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #i need that man so bad #nfsw blog #need that #nicholas chavez angst #angst #spicy creator #libary smut #libary #liveblogging #live

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oldsoul007 · 3 months ago

Text

Ultraviolence

dr. charlie mayhew x dr!reader

request: Hi, can I request for a Doc Charlie Mayhew x rival in med school days reader. They haven't seen each other in years then reader got into an accident and *surprise surprise* Charlie gets assigned to treat her. Some enemies to lovers kinda thing

warning: arguing, puking

Charlie Mayhew and I were both top students in our medical school, each driven by a fierce determination to become the best doctor. From the very first day, we found ourselves constantly competing, whether it was for the highest grades, the best clinical evaluations, or the most coveted internships. Our rivalry was well-known among our peers and even the professors, who often marveled at our relentless pursuit of excellence.

Despite our competitive nature, there was a mutual respect between Charlie and I. We pushed each other to new heights, each striving to outdo the other. Late-night study sessions in the library often turned into silent battles of endurance, and clinical rounds became arenas for showcasing our knowledge and skills.

Mine and Charlie’s argument had reached a boiling point. We were standing in the study lounge, faces flushed with anger, each unwilling to back down.

"Charlie, your method is reckless and could jeopardize everything we've worked for!" I shouted, my frustration evident.

"And your way is so safe it's boring, y/n! We need to take risks to make an impact!" Charlie retorted, his voice equally loud.

The tension between us was palpable. Neither was willing to consider the other's perspective, and our stubbornness only fueled the fire.

"You always think you know better than everyone else," I accused, my eyes narrowing.

"And you never take a chance, always playing it safe," Charlie shot back, his tone biting.

Our argument echoed through the study lounge, drawing the attention of our classmates. But Charlie and I were too wrapped up in our own battle to notice. The more we argued, the more entrenched we became in our positions.

Finally, I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Fine, do whatever you want, Charlie. But don't expect me to clean up your mess."

Charlie glared at me, his jaw set. "I don't need your approval, y/n. I'll prove you wrong."

With that, we stormed off in opposite directions, the argument unresolved and our rivalry more intense than ever.

I was in the middle of stitching up a patient's wound, my hands steady despite the exhaustion creeping in. The room was filled with the usual sounds of the ER—monitors beeping, hushed conversations, the occasional shout for assistance. I could feel someone's eyes on me, and it didn't take long to figure out who it was. Charlie.

I glanced up briefly and, sure enough, there he was, staring at me from across the room. His gaze was intense, almost scrutinizing. It felt like he was waiting for me to make a mistake, to prove some unspoken point. Annoyance bubbled up inside me. I didn't need this right now, not after the night we'd had.

Without missing a beat, I shot him a sharp, rude look. It was a silent message: back off. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't look away. I could feel the tension between us, thick and palpable, but I forced myself to focus back on my patient. I didn't have time for Charlie's games

After a grueling night at the hospital, the group of medical school students decided to unwind at our favorite local bar. The dim lighting and the hum of conversations provided a stark contrast to the sterile, high-pressure environment we had just left. Me and Charlie, both exhausted yet wired from the adrenaline, found ourselves at opposite ends of the bar.

As the night wore on, tensions that had been simmering beneath the surface started to bubble up. Charlie, feeling the weight of a particularly difficult case, made a snide remark about me handling of a patient. Me, already on edge, snapped back, my voice cutting through the chatter. Our friends tried to diffuse the situation, but the stress of their demanding schedules and the alcohol only fueled the fire.

"You know, y/n, I really don't understand how you handled that patient today. It was almost like you were trying to make things harder for everyone."

My eyes narrowed, the tension immediately palpable. "Excuse me? At least I didn't stand around second-guessing every decision like you did. Maybe if you spent less time criticizing and more time actually helping, we'd get things done faster."

Our friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the brewing storm. Charlie leaned in, his voice low but sharp. "Maybe if you weren't so stubborn and actually listened to someone else's fucking opinion for once, things wouldn't get so chaotic."

My face flushed with anger. "You’re an asshole, You think you're the only one who knows anything? Your arrogance is infuriating, Charlie. Just because you have an opinion doesn't mean it's always right."

The argument escalated quickly, with both me and Charlie hurling accusations and frustrations at each other. It wasn't just about the patient anymore; it was about the long hours, the constant pressure, and the unspoken competition between us. The altercation drew the attention of the entire bar, but neither seemed to care as they vented months of pent-up stress.

I sat at my desk, textbooks and notes scattered around me. I had been studying for hours, but the material just wasn't sticking. The test was looming, and I felt the pressure mounting. With a deep sigh, she realized she needed help. The last person I wanted to ask was Charlie, but I didn't have much choice.

Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and sent Charlie a message. "Hey, I need some help with the study material. Can you spare some time?"

Charlie responded quickly. "What will you give me if I do” moments later another message comes through. “Sure, I can help. When do you want to meet?"

We agreed to meet at the library later that afternoon. I felt a mix of relief and frustration. I didn't like admitting I needed help, especially from Charlie, but I knew it was necessary.

When we met, Charlie was surprisingly patient and thorough. He explained the concepts clearly, breaking down the material in a way that made sense to me. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself grateful for his help.

"Thanks, Charlie," I said at the end of our session. "I really appreciate it."

Charlie smiled. "No problem, y/n. We all need a little help sometimes."

As we packed up our things, I couldn't help but feel a bit more confident about the upcoming test. Maybe working with Charlie wasn't so bad after all.

Years later, I found myself in a hospital room, my head throbbing from the accident I’d just been in. I couldn't believe my luck when the doctor walked in and it was Charlie. Of course, it had to be him.

Charlie looked just as surprised to see me. "Y/n," he sighed, his tone professional but his eyes betraying a hint of the old tension between us. "What happened?"

"Car accident," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I guess you're my doctor."

"Looks like it," Charlie said, glancing at my chart. "Let's get you checked out."

The examination was awkward, the air thick with unspoken words. Charlie was thorough and professional, but I could sense the tension in his every move. I couldn't help but remember our heated arguments and the unresolved feelings that still lingered between us.

"You're going to be fine," Charlie finally said, stepping back. "Just a few bruises and a mild concussion. You'll need to rest for a few days."

"Thanks," I muttered, not meeting his eyes.

Charlie hesitated for a moment, then added, "If you need anything, let me know. I'll be around."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and frustration. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was relieved that Charlie was there, even if it meant facing the unresolved tension between us.

Charlie walked into the room, clipboard in hand, ready to do his job. "Alright, y/n, let's get this last check-up done," he said, his tone neutral.

I barely looked at him, my irritation clear. "Just get it over with," I muttered, crossing my arms.

Charlie sighed, trying to keep his cool. "I need you to cooperate, y/n. This is for your own good."

I rolled my eyes, clearly annoyed. "Yeah, whatever. Just do what you have to."

Charlie started the examination, but my attitude was getting under his skin. "You know, a little bit of cooperation would make this easier for both of us."

"Maybe if you weren't so insufferable, I wouldn't be so annoyed," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Charlie clenched his jaw, trying to stay professional. "I'm just trying to help you. Could you at least try to meet me halfway?"

My eyes flashed with anger. "I don't need your help, Charlie. Just finish the check-up."

Charlie finally snapped. "Fine. But for the record, your attitude isn't helping anyone. I'm just doing my job."

I felt a pang of guilt but quickly pushed it aside. "Whatever."

The rest of the check-up was done in tense silence, both of them stubbornly ignoring the underlying feelings that neither wanted to acknowledge.

Charlie couldn't hold back his frustration any longer. "Y/n, just exactly what were you thinking? You could've been seriously hurt!" he snapped, his voice rising.

I glared at him, my own anger flaring up. "It wasn’t my fault! And why do you even care so much, Charlie? It's not like it matters to you!"

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to calm himself but failing. "Of course it matters! You think I want to see you like this? You need to be more careful."

My eyes softened for a moment as I saw the genuine concern in his eyes. "Why does it matter to you, Charlie? Why do you care so much?"

He hesitated, the words hanging in the air between us. "Because... because I still care about you, y/n. I never stopped."

I felt a lump in my throat. Despite all the tension and unresolved feelings, there was something undeniable between us. "Charlie, I..."

He shook his head, cutting me off. "Just promise me you'll be more careful. I don't want to see you hurt again."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of emotions. "I promise."

As Charlie turned to leave, the unspoken words and lingering feelings between us seemed to fill the room, leaving both of us wondering what might happen next.

The years had softened some of our rough edges, and the intense rivalry that once defined our relationship had faded into a mutual respect.

The silence between us was comfortable, a stark contrast to our earlier years of constant bickering. As I sat in my hospital bed with charlie sitting next to it keeping me company, memories of our past interactions resurfaced, and we couldn't help but laugh at how far we had come.

Charlie broke the silence first. "You know, I used to watch you work and wonder how you managed to stay so focused. It drove me crazy," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I always thought you were just waiting for me to mess up. I guess I never realized you were actually... impressed."

We exchanged a look, and in that moment, it all clicked. The tension, the arguments, the stolen glances—it had all been fueled by something deeper. We had been too stubborn to see it back then, but now, it was undeniable. We had feelings for each other all along.

"Alright, y/n," Charlie began, trying to maintain his professional demeanor. "Let's go over a few things before you leave. First, you'll need to keep an eye on your—"

"—vital signs, particularly any changes in heart rate or blood pressure," I interjected, finishing his sentence with a knowing smirk.

Charlie sighed but continued. "Yes, exactly. And make sure you take your—"

"—pain medication as prescribed, but be mindful of any side effects like dizziness or nausea," I added, my tone light but confident.

He shot me a look, trying to hide his frustration. "Right. Also, you should avoid any strenuous activities for the next—"

"—48 hours, and gradually ease back into your normal routine," I said, my eyes twinkling with amusement.

Charlie couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "You know, it's really hard to be the doctor here when you keep finishing my sentences."

I grinned. "Sorry, force of habit. But thanks for taking care of me, Charlie."

He smiled back, the tension easing. "Anytime. Just try not to make a habit of ending up on the patient side of things, okay?"

"Deal," she replied, her smile widening. And with that, the unspoken bond between them grew just a little bit stronger.

I walked back into the hospital, my heart racing a bit faster than usual. I had told myself I was just coming back to grab something I forgot, but deep down, I knew the real reason. I wanted to see Charlie again.

As I made my way through the familiar hallways, I spotted him at the nurses' station, engrossed in some paperwork. Taking a deep breath, I approached him, trying to appear casual.

"Hey, Charlie," I said, my voice steady. "I think I left my, uh, sweater in my the hospital room."

Charlie looked up, a smile spreading across his face when he saw me. "Y/n, hey! I can help you look."

We walked together to the room , chatting about our day. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, but I tried to keep my cool. As we reached the room, she pretended to search for my sweater.

"Found it!" I exclaimed, holding up the sweater I had actually had all along.

Charlie laughed. "You know, you could have just said you wanted to see me."

I blushed, but I smiled back. "Yeah, I guess I could have."

We stood there for a moment, the air filled with unspoken words. Finally, Charlie broke the silence. "Well, I'm glad you came back. It's always nice to see you, y/n."

I felt my heart swell. "Same here, Charlie. Same here."

Charlie took a step closer, his eyes locking with mine. The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently cupping my face in his hands. My breath hitched, my heart racing as I realized what was about to happen.

And then, he kissed me. It wasn't tentative or hesitant; it was passionate and full of years of pent-up feelings. The world outside the break room faded away, leaving just the two of them in that moment. I melted into the kiss, my hands finding our way to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. Charlie smiled softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he whispered.

I laughed lightly, my eyes sparkling. "Me too," I admitted. And just like that, the years of unresolved tension and hidden feelings began to unravel, leading us toward a new chapter together.

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niteskysx · 7 days ago

Text

ghostface nac x reader

Warnings: psychological manipulation, stalking, established relationship ig?

(I wrote this in between appointments over the course of several months… haven't even properly edited this thing, idk how to feel about it. lmk 😭 also, it's not smutty at all, just a collection of drabbles filled with tension, I guess? sjdkejd)

The sound of your frantic breathing filled the quiet of your darkened living room. You pressed yourself against the wall, heart pounding as you clutched a lamp, your last line of defense.

Somewhere in the shadows, you could hear his boots against the floorboards. Slow. Deliberate. He was in no hurry. “I know you’re here,” his voice called out, low and taunting. “Come on out, sweetheart. We both know how this ends.” Tears blurred your vision as you pressed a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to muffle your cries. You’d seen his face—or at least his mask—at the scene of the crime. You’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and now he was here to silence you for good. A floorboard creaked nearby. You tried to bolt as fast as possible- “Ah, there she is!” he called out, his tone almost playful as he pursued you.

You ran blindly, crashing into furniture and stumbling in the dark until you reached the hallway. Just as you turned to glance behind you, his hand shot out, gripping your arm. You screamed, wrenching yourself free and stumbling backward, only to trip over a rug and fall to the floor.

You scrambled back against the wall, your knees tucked to your chest as he approached, his knife glinting in the faint light.

The sounds of your sobs filled the room, each breath a desperate gasp as you pressed yourself further into the wall.

The knife was still in his hand, but his posture had changed—no longer looming over you with the intent to kill, but kneeling down to your level, something softer in his eyes, though it remained guarded.

"Please," you gasped between sobs, your hands clutching the fabric of your shirt. "I don’t want to die. Please.”

But something shifted in him. His grip on the knife loosened, and he took a slow step back. For a moment, he simply stared at you, your tears streaking your cheeks, your body trembling like a frightened, frigid ittle thing...

Without a word, he reached up and removed the mask.

Your breath hitched.

He was too handsome to be a killer. His hair was a messy brown. His skin glowed faintly in the dim light, and his eyes—dark, intense—scanned your face with an expression you couldn’t read. He smelled of cologne and sweat, a mixture of danger and something oddly intoxicating.

He crouched down to your level, his hand lowering the knife to the ground, leaving it forgotten on the floor. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soft now, almost tender. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, confused and terrified. What was happening?

His eyes stayed fixed on you, his movements slow and deliberate as he leaned closer. You flinched, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he reached out, one hand softly grazing your cheek, wiping away a tear as he whispered, "Hey... it’s okay... it’s okay."

Your lips quivered as you tried to speak, but no sound came out.

“Shh,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your jawline, making you shiver. “It’s okay.” You froze, unsure of what to do. His other hand’s thumb, almost without thinking, traced upon your top and bottom lip.

You didn’t move, your mind spinning as his face inched closer to yours. His breath ghosted over your lips, and you instinctively turned your head slightly, but his hand on your cheek kept you in place. He didn’t want to hurt you, not like this– not anymore. But why?

“Hey,” he murmured again, his voice so soft now it almost broke you. “Look at me.”

Against your better judgment, you did.

“See?” he whispered, his lips barely a breath away from yours. “It’s okay… it’s okay.” He kept repeating it, over and over, like a mantra, as his thumb traced your lips more insistently, his touch growing more desperate and intimate.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed, confused, and fearful. Your voice trembled as you managed to force the words out.

"Wha—what are you doing?" your breath hitched, the confusion still heavy in your voice.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes drifted down to your lips once again, and his hand slowly slid from your cheek to your jaw, fingers gently cupping your face.

Then, without warning, he leaned in closer, his lips brushed against yours in a hesitant, slow motion. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as his lips pressed more firmly against yours. He kissed you deeper then, a rush of heat flooding his chest as his tongue slipped past your lips. You gasped, a sharp sound escaping as you instinctively tensed at the sensation. The kiss, rough and hungry, was a sharp contrast to the gentleness he had shown moments before. He could feel your surprise to the kiss; the way your body stiffened, but he didn’t stop— his hands began moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an intensity that startled even him.

The warmth of your breath mingled with his… The feel of your heartbeat against his chest as you let out a soft, surprised gasp before the kiss consumed you. The frantic beating of your heart mirrored his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not when he was so consumed by the moment.

And in that brief moment, everything else- your fear, the trembling… the knife that was once in his hand—seemed to vanish entirely.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been days since he first broke into your apartment. Weeks, actually. Ever since that night, he had been showing up uninvited—always late, always in his usual Ghostface attire. Sometimes just to watch a movie, raid your kitchen, or talk. Other times… to do other things.

The guilt was suffocating, growing heavier with each passing day. This had gone on for too long now. You had to tell someone. That the Ghostface killer—the masked murderer terrorizing the city—was your secret late-night rendezvous. And worse? You didn’t even know his real name!

So, you made a decision. If you couldn’t stop him, if you couldn’t stop yourself, then you could at least try to make sense of it all. Therapy was supposed to help with that, right? Surely, someone would understand.

You clutched your bag tightly as you entered the waiting room, nerves already frayed. This was supposed to be your safe space, the one place where you could untangle the chaos in your mind—especially after him.

But then, as if the universe itself was mocking you, he walked out of the office.

“Thanks, Dr. Goldman. I’ve never felt better!” he said, flashing an exaggerated grin, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Your heart plummeted. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

There he was, standing in the doorway, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his maroon leather jacket. When his gaze met yours, his smirk spread like wildfire.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” he drawled, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

You froze, your entire body going cold.

“What… what are you doing here?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“Oh, just taking care of my mental health,” he said smoothly, mock sincerity lacing his tone. “Isn’t that what they say? Therapy is good for the soul.”

Dr. Goldman glanced between the two of you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Do you two know each other?”

Nick didn’t hesitate. “Of course,” he said with an easy smirk. “We’ve got history, don’t we?”

You shook your head quickly. “No. We don’t.”

His grin widened. “Don’t be shy,” he teased, stepping closer. His voice dipped into something quieter, something meant just for you. “Tell him how close we’ve gotten.”

Your face burned, anger rising in your chest, but somehow, you couldn’t look away from his gaze.

Dr. Goldman cleared his throat. “Well, [Y/N], I’m ready whenever you are.” He stepped away awkwardly, sensing the tension. “I’ll be in my office.”

As soon as Dr. Goldman disappeared, Ghostface—or Nick, as you’d overheard him introduce himself—took a step closer to you, that cocky grin not leaving his face.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, his tone casual, but his eyes—sharp, knowing—betrayed him. “But then again… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After everything, I’d need a therapist too.”

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. “W-what are you doing here? Are you following me?”

He feigned a look of offense before grinning wider. “What, you think I don’t have issues to work out? Come on, sweetheart, even psychos have feelings.” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—spice and danger—filling your senses. “But don’t worry. I’m cured now.”

Jaw clenched, you turned sharply, making your way toward the office—until you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist.

Gently. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to stop you.

Then, before you could pull away, he leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“Go ahead,” he murmured. “Tell him all about me.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

But you forced yourself to keep moving, stepping into the office with your entire body trembling.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

You're curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, the soft hum of the TV filling the empty space around you. Your hair is pulled up in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose against your face. The house feels too quiet without your parents here—eerily still, like it's waiting for something. Every small creak of the walls settling makes your stomach tighten, every shadow in the dim light of the screen seems darker, deeper.

You try to shake the feeling, telling yourself it’s just your imagination. But then—

You hear a sound of the back door clicking shut.

Your entire body goes rigid. The kitchen.

Your breath catches in your throat as you strain to listen. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. The unmistakable rustle of someone moving through your house.

Not again...

“Nice place,” his familiar, cocky voice called out from the kitchen.

Your stomach twists. No. No, no, no. How did he get in?

You shove the blanket off, your heartbeat a frantic hammering in your ears as you rush toward the kitchen.

There he was, rummaging through the cabinets like he owned the place. His leather jacket hung loosely on his broad shoulders, and his fluffy hair was slightly disheveled. He radiated a casual arrogance that both terrified and infuriated you.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, your voice sharp, desperate to keep steady.

He doesn’t even look at you, instead pulling out a box of cereal, inspecting it like he’s making himself at home. “What does it look like? I’m hungry.”

He was getting under your skin. “You can’t just—just be here. You need to leave!”

Finally, he turns to face you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Relax, princess. Your parents are out of town, aren’t they? Won’t be back for…what, a week?”

Your breath hitches. “H-how do you know that?”

He shrugged, plucking a banana from the fruit bowl and peeling it. “I know a lot of things.”

“Get out,” you say, forcing even more steel into your voice, but it still shakes.

He takes a slow bite of the banana, leaning casually against the counter. Then, with an easy shrug, he says it—like a dare, like he already knows you won’t.

“Make me.”

You grit your teeth in anger and try to grab the stack of mail he had started flipping through, but he easily holds it out of your reach.

“Oh, no, no,” he says, pulling the envelopes further away. “Say please first.”

Your brows furrow. “What?”

His smirk widens as he leans closer, voice dipping into something low and teasing. “Say… please. Come on, you can do it. Please.”

She hesitated, blinking at him in disbelief.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding the mail just out of reach. “It’s not that hard. ‘Please, mister terrifying murderer who broke into my house, stop opening my mail.’”

Your face burns as you mutter, “Please.”

“What was that?” He cups a hand to his ear, leaning in mockingly.

“Please!” you say louder, your voice shaking with anger and humiliation.

“Ah, there you go!” He hands you the mail, but not before brushing his fingers against yours just long enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Now,” he says, tone shifting from playful to something sharper, more curious. “What is it about you?”

Your pulse quickens. “What are you talking about?”

He sets the banana down and turns toward you fully, “You. What’s so special about you?”

You step back, bumping into the counter as he stalks closer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, tilting his head like he’s studying you. “I don’t let people go. Ever. So what is it? What, you got some deep, tragic childhood trauma? Mommy didn’t love you? Daddy wasn’t around? There’s got to be something, right?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head. “What? N-no. Th-there’s nothing—”

“Or,” he interrupts, leaning in so your faces are inches apart, “is it just because I’m a guy? Because, yeah, I’ve got my moments, but this?” He gestures between you. “This isn’t me. I don’t do this. I don’t let people go. So what the hell is it? Hmm?”

His eyes flick down to your lips briefly before he steps back with a frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair. “God, you’re such a headache.”

And just like that, he turns back to the cabinets, rifling through them like nothing had happened.

tags aka my lovelies: @lalavenderangel @violetidk @nicholaschavezslut69 @blackynsupremacy @motherismotheringggg @hoffmansgirl @greengoblinswifey @emluvsuxo @iamsebastiansstan @thekhloediary @blog-o-meter

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nightmare-niko · 4 months ago

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This next one is a long one😏😏

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angelssmvse · 2 months ago

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𝘼 𝘿𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙀𝙍’𝙎 𝙋𝙍𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝙎𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀 𝘿𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙈𝙎 𝜗𝜚 (part four)

Cecilia has been experiencing unusual dreams recently, following that night with Father Charlie. These dreams appear to be interconnected. Initially, they did not frighten her; however, everything changed when her dead sister, Gwen, made an appearance.

I had a very strange dream tonight…like the other nights.

I was walking through this weird hallway, all dark and narrow, I felt strangled.

Then i saw then I heard this strange voice, yet similar, it was calling me — i swear.

I followed this voice, almost angelic. I opeed opened the door. Red door. Then i saw her. It was weird at first because instead of a head it had a goats head, then the room darkened, the windows open wide and that ray of light troubled my eyes almost blinding me, she was there in front of the window viewing i don’t know what before slowly turning her head over me.

I froze, it was her. Gwen. My dead sister.

She had this melancholic stare, she never looked at me like that ever in my life.

I almost cried, i wanted to talk to her before i woke up.

What do i do father? I’m afraid.

Cecilia Jones.

Father Charlie held the letter Cecilia had sent him, crumpling it before discarding it. He then called Cecilia on his phone.

"Hey," he whispered, "I just saw the letter. You know you could have just sent me a message or made a quick call, right?" He smiled through the screen.

Cecilia replied, "My parents sometimes check my phone..." She smiled at the thought. "So no, I couldn't."

He chuckled softly, "Fair enough." His voice was deep, sending butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "Come over to my place tonight; we'll talk about your dream."

The time had come for Cecilia to prepare for her meeting with Father Charlie. She left her house, using the same excuse as always—claiming she was heading to Bible lessons. Upon her arrival, she found Father Charlie waiting for her, unchanged from that night; he was the same as ever, and she felt her usual shyness wash over her.

As they walked through the hallways, she began to share her dream. They eventually stopped in the church’s garden, taking a seat on a bench that overlooked the beautiful landscape filled with white roses and lush greenery, complete with a grand fountain at its center. Cecilia paused for a moment, her eyes wide in admiration. “Wow, Father, do you take care of all this on your own?” she asked, turning her gaze to him.

He shook his head, looking down. “I’d probably freak out, sister,” he admitted before looking back up at her. “Every Monday, people come over to clean.” He handed her a white rose.

Cecilia nodded, a little embarrassed. “Of course, sorry for the silly question… Anyway,” she continued, her tone shifting as she delved deeper into her dream. “She looked at me and smiled. I wanted to hug her one more time.” Her voice trembled, and she glanced down, tears beginning to fall as she fiddled with her fingers tearing the roses petals apart. “She tried to talk to me before I woke up.”

Father Charlie noticed her sorrow and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly and comfortingly. She looked up at him, whispering, “I’m afraid.” He gazed down at her, gently wiping her tears away with his hand before leaning in closer. “As long as I’m here, you shall never be afraid, Cecilia,” he reassured her. Their lips met in a kiss, intertwining as if they were meant for one another. He could taste the bitterness and pain in her heart, but he was there for her—he would always be there for her.

Their love was undeniably wrong, but that only made it more special—a secret worth keeping.

EXPLORE THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE🤍

Copyright © angelssmvse 2024 — I own only this story and some characters I have created, including Sister Cecilia Jones, Gwen Jones (Cecilia's sister), Lenny Jones (Cecilia's mother), and William Jones (Cecilia's father), among others. I give credit for the remaining content to the series "Grotesquerie" by Ryan Murphy. This is the only platform where I have published the story. Please do not copy or translate it without permission or proper attribution.

#smut #fanfic #fanfiction #father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #grotesquerie #nicholas chavez #short story #soundcloud #charlie mayhew #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez x reader #father charlie smut #charlie mayhew x reader #fluff #angst #father charlie grotesquerie

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lemonwithstupidity · 4 months ago

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LISTEN! Father Charles Mayhew and Y/n used to fck. And when he saw them go to church with someone else, he was seeing red and wants to take them back.

#father charles mayhew #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas echavez x reader angst #nicholas alexander echavez #father charles mayhew x reader #help me #im born unholy

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greengoblinswifey · 3 months ago

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i was the one that asked if you writw dark stuff. and tysm for replying, you are so incredibly sweet💕🎀

So, could you write a dark fanfic with Nicholas or Father Charlie (you choose lol) with noncon and maybe dv? like, reader meets him and one of her family members owns him something and he like? uses her instead? if thats okay, could u do it rlly darkkk?

tysm and ily!!! 💕💞

Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— your father fucked nicholas over and he kidnaps you to get his payback.

warnings— EXPLICIT CONTENT. kidnapping, manipulation, extreme degrading, praise kink, face slapping, male masturbation, crying kink, face fucking, CNC, unprotected sex, knife play, death threats, violence, bondage, mentions of bruises, choking, double penetration with knife handle, anal, breeding kink, stockholm syndrome.

a/n— i think this is quite…dark and thank you🫶🏽hope you guys enjoy, def stepped out of my comfort zone for this, requests are open!

Nicholas had always known your father was a powerful man, a producer and director with the kind of influence that could turn anyone into a Hollywood legend. They had made a deal, Nicholas would land two starring roles that would launch his career to the next level. The first film had given him some visibility, but no real money, thanks to your father’s manipulation of the contract. The second role was supposed to be his ticket to true fame and fortune. But then, it all fell apart. Your father broke his promises, cutting Nicholas out in favor of his own friend, Cooper Koch. Worse yet, he’d seized some of Nicholas' property as “leverage” during the filming, draining him financially and leaving him furious and betrayed.

Your father had underestimated just how deep Nicholas’ anger would run. He wanted what was rightfully his, and if he couldn’t get it through negotiations or agreements, he’d find another way. That’s when he learned about you—the daughter your father doted on, especially since the loss of his only son, your older brother, who was meant to be the family heir. But Nicholas wasn’t here for empathy. He wanted revenge, and he knew exactly how to get it.

You agreed to go on a date with Nicholas, the rising star you had met and grown fond of, without a second thought. But as you sat in his car, something felt off. He was silent, his gaze hard as he gripped the steering wheel, ignoring your attempts at small talk.

“Where are we going?” you asked, noticing that he’d missed the turn toward the restaurant.

He didn’t answer right away, his jaw clenched tightly. Finally, he murmured, “Change of plans.”

You felt a prickle of unease and glanced around, trying to piece together where he might be headed. The buildings grew sparse, and the trees thickened on either side of the road, casting shadows as the sun dipped lower. “This doesn’t look like the way to any restaurant,” you said, your voice faltering.

He turned to you, eyes cold. “It’s not.”

A chill ran down your spine. Panic set in as he accelerated, the car speeding down a winding road that led into the dense woods. “Nicholas, stop the car,” you demanded, reaching for the door handle, but he locked it before you could react.

He didn’t look at you, but his voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “You think your father can cross me and get away with it? That he can just toss me aside like I’m nothing?” His grip on the wheel tightened. “This isn’t a date, sweetheart. This is payback.”

Your heart pounded as you pulled at the door, the lock refusing to budge. “You don’t have to do this! Whatever he did-”

“He took everything from me,” Nicholas snarled, his eyes darkening as he drove deeper into the woods. “Everything I worked for. The fame, the fortune, my properties, my pride. And now? I’m taking something from him.”

In a desperate attempt to escape, you kicked at him, your fists pounding against his arm. He barely flinched, his focus unbreakable as he finally pulled up to a secluded cabin, hidden by towering trees and thick brush. You barely had time to scream before he leaned over, his hand covering your mouth.

“Quiet,” he hissed, his voice cold as he tightened his grip. “You’re going to make this harder on yourself sweetheart.”

With a swift motion, he hit a spot on the side of your head, and darkness began to cloud your vision. The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was his dark gaze.

When you woke, your hands were bound to a bed frame in a dimly lit room, and your head throbbed. The dim light filtered through the cracks in the cabin walls, casting eerie shadows. He was there, leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a look that was almost satisfied.

“Comfortable?” he asked mockingly, tilting his head.

You struggled against the ropes, glaring at him. “You’re fucking insane! My father won’t just let this slide!”

He laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Your father will do exactly what I want, or he’ll never see you again.”

As you struggled against the ropes, glaring at him. “My father won’t stand for this. He’ll ruin you,” you spat, words filled with venom. “You think your career’s over now? It’s nothing compared to what he’ll do when he finds out what you’ve done.”

His smirk faded, his gaze darkening. In a flash, he crossed the room, sending a chill through you. He leaned down, his face mere inches from yours as his hand struck yours with force, the impact whipping your head to the side.

“Careful with that fucking attitude,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “If you want to get through this in one piece, you’d better be a good little girl and play along.” His mouth curled into a mocking smile as he added, “Maybe I’ll let you go if you can manage that.”

A spark of hope flickered across your burning face, but his mocking laugh snuffed it out. “Oh, don’t look so hopeful,” he sneered. “I own you now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you.”

The next few days, Nicholas seemed almost amused by your resistance, feeding off your energy as he reminded you just how little control you had. You played along in the way he wanted you to, letting him hold you close as he told you about the disgusting things he wanted to do to you and your father and whatever other sick games he had in mind. Whenever he would see you cry and resist him, your acrylics digging in his back and leaving welts, you noticed the prominent bulge it left in his pants.

One morning, he threw down a newspaper, its headline blaring the news of your disappearance and the national search underway. Your father’s influence had reached every corner of the country, and law enforcement was relentless. Nicholas caught your glance, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “Guess Daddy dearest is worried,” he taunted, feigning innocence. “How touching.”

You burst into tears, unable to hold it in any longer, you missed your father and you wanted to be away from the psycho standing in front of you. He laughed in your face, slowly taking out his impressively long and hard cock, pumping it as you cried harder. Disgust filled you as you watched him moan the harder you cried. He was getting off to your pain and somehow—deep inside, watching him get off to you turned you on.

“Keep fucking crying sweetheart, you’re gonna make me cum so hard.” Disgusted, you turned your head away, refusing to look at the sight before you but he just chuckled. You opened your eyes feeling the bed dip and you looked up at him, seeing him with his cock above you.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he growled, his stroking become more frantic.

“You’re disgusting,” you spat. He stopped stroking his dick to slap you in the face with it, earning a soft whimper. Obeying him, you opened your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut at the man before you shoved his length into your mouth, thrusting, before he shot his load down your throat.

“Fucking hell, that’s a good fucking whore, take all my cum,” he groaned, grabbing a fistful of your curls and bucking his hips.

As soon as he let you go, your head snapped to the side, shame filling you.

Nicholas leaned in, his expression cold. “You’re mine now,” he said, his voice steady and unyielding. “You’ll make up for every single thing your father took from me. And once I’m done, once I’ve taken back what’s rightfully mine, he’ll be begging for my mercy.”

You glared back, forcing yourself to hold his gaze despite the fear tightening in your chest. “You’re delusional if you think you can control me or him,” you said, your voice shaking with defiance.

Nicholas laughed, unphased. “We’ll see. By the time I’m finished, you won’t even want to go back to that man.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Because I’n going to break you like a bitch and you’ll be begging to stay with me.”

He watched your expression, almost amused, as you struggled to maintain your composure. “You’ve done well so far, taking my cock down your throat,” he continued, his tone dark but oddly approving. “Maybe it’s time I marked you as mine.”

You swallowed, your mind racing. No matter how much you fought, the lines between fear and something you didn’t want to admit were beginning to blur. He seemed to sense it, a satisfied smirk crossing his face as he leaned back, leaving you to confront the uncertainty.

A gasp left your lips as he gripped your throat, tearing your dress off you. He was a predator and you were his prey. His eyes scanned your almost bare body, licking his lips as you quivered in fear. If your hands weren’t bound to the bed you would’ve tried concealing yourself.

“Please stop,” you whimpered.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, “don’t make me gag you, better yet I won’t, I want to hear you beg me to stop then I want to hear your little moans when you realize I’m making you feel good.”

Your lips quivered as you fought back tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction he wanted.

“Now, I’m going to untie you and you’re going to take off your underwear like a good little bitch. If you try anything stupid, I’ll fucking kill you, understood?” he said, reaching for your wrists.

Slowly, you nodded, the threat rising fear inside you but a sharp smack to the face jolted you. “I said do you fucking understand me?”

“Y-yes Nicholas.”

He untied your wrists, and you looked down to see them black and blue. Slowly, you carried out his request, only having to take off your underwear as you unfortunately went to the ‘date’ not wearing a bra.

“Now spread those legs.”

A soft whimper left your lips and you complied, knowing exactly what the psycho would do to you if you refused. “Good girl.” He reached for the bedside table, taking out a sharp knife from the drawer. “Now, once again, if you think of doing anything stupid, I’ll slit that pretty throat and still fuck it.”

He held the knife lightly against your throat, his fingers dipping between your legs as you trembled. “If you’re so fucking scared and I’m a psycho, why are you soaked? Why the fuck are you wet?”

Shame overtook you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, just wanting it all to be over. You thought about your father, your dead brother, anything to take your mind off what was about to happen.

“It’s gonna be okay princess, I’ll take good care of you if you take good care of me.” He knelt on the bed, making sure you were mouth level with his cock. “It’s time to take good care of me, open up that mouth and I swear to god if you use teeth, I’ll use the knife to knock out every last one of them.”

Reluctantly, you opened your mouth, and he slowly pushed his big cock into it. Your mouth was wide open and you were gagging on it, trying your best to breathe. He began snapping his hips forward, his cock continuously going down your throat and through it all, he kept the knife pressed against your throat.

“Fuck, you really have a mouth on you,” he chuckled, “you’re suck a good cock sleeve, I’m going to enjoy using you like the whore you are.”

His thrusts became rougher and you could hardly breathe and soon, he held you by your curls, pushing your head all the way down until your nose was on his pubes. “I’m gonna cum bitch, swallow my fucking load, don’t let it go to waste.”

You couldn’t even spit it out if you wanted to. He released down your throat, the action making you cough around his dick as he made sure to milk every drop inside your mouth. “You did so good for me baby, I know you’re enjoying this.”

You shivered as he used the cold handle of the knife, rubbing it up and down your folds. Shame bubbled inside you as you heard the unmistakable sound of squelching noises telling you exactly how soaked you were.

“What a disgusting slut, your pussy is practically gushing for me, are you seriously enjoying this?” You looked away embarrassed, heat rising in your cheeks.

A gasp left your lips as you felt the handle sink into your pussy. “Nicholas, please, no,” you begged, disgusted at the sight below you.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Shut the fuck up!” he screamed at you.

Your pussy clenched around the handle as he began fucking you with it faster, the pain soon subsiding and being replaced by pleasure. Trying to hold back your moans seemed futile as he began rubbing your clit and the handle hit a certain spot inside you.

“You’re getting off on this? Fuck, you’re much more of a whore than I thought. If you cum on the knife’s handle I’ll know for sure you were just asking for my cock, you’re fucking asking for it,” he chuckled, darkly.

Hearing his words, you pressed your lips together, containing your moans and trying your hardest not to cum. He only chuckled at your attempts, the handle speeding up inside you and the squelching noises becoming louder and louder. You wished you were deaf in that moment, at least you wouldn’t have to endure the shame of knowing being manhandled by your kidnapper was turning you on.

“Cum for me whore, I know you want to, you won’t be able to stop yourself forever.” Your body betrayed you and as soon as the words left his lips, you soaked his hand and the handle inside you.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re disgusting,” he laughed, looking down at his soaked hand, “did you really just squirt from me fucking you with a knife blade?”

It felt like your world was crumbling as he laughed mockingly and your pussy twitched, slowly gushing.

“Well then, that was easy, I think you’re ready for this big, fat cock to fuck that tight pussy.” He dragged you by your legs, pulling you flat on your back and rubbed the tip up and down your pussy.

“Nicholas, you don’t have to do this, my father will give you back everything he took, I promise. Y-you can let me go, please, I won’t tell.”

“Oh shut up,” he said, slapping you on the mouth, “you don’t get it do you? I own you now. You’re mine. He took everything away from me and I’ll take and use you instead.”

Not giving up, you tried to beg more, “Please don’t, I’m begging you.”

“If you didn’t want me to fuck you, you wouldn’t have squirted for me. You wouldn’t have been soaked like a whore from my touch. Surely you want this, surely your body knows you better than your dumb little brain does. Just lay there and take it, you’ll like it.”

Maybe he was right. If you didn’t want it, why else would you have been wet? Why did you cum? Your body would’ve refused him. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, maybe he just wanted to make you feel good like he did before.

A scream erupted as he pushed his thick cock inside you, giving you no time to adjust. “That’s it bitch, scream for me.”

Your gasps and screams grew louder as he began pounding into you, the bed frame smacking against the wall and your tits bouncing. He took up the knife and traced it along your jaw, admiring how you looked taking him. He brought it down to your tits, increasing his pace and making you moan and scream even louder for him. The intensity of it all was unbearable and you could already feel the impending orgasm.

“I need you to remember you’re nothing but a pussy for me to fuck, a cock slut. You feel so fucking good clenching around my dick.”

He began using the wet handle to rub your clit and you knew it was over for you. Gripping on to his toned biceps, your jaw fell open, loud moans leaving you as you came all over his raw cock inside you. Curse him for not at least using a condom.

“That’s it, let it all out, let out those slutty moans too. You should be a bitch in porn with the way you squirt and moan,” he laughed breathlessly.

He swiftly flipped you onto your back, but instead of pulling your ass up to him, he pressed a bit of his body weight onto you as you lay flat on the bed, slipping his cock inside your pussy once more.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

He began pounding into you as you shamefully had your hands on your ass spreading yourself for him. “You should see just how wet you are, but I’m sure hearing it tells you all you need to know.”

You felt so full with him pressing down on you, thrusting roughly, having no regard for the mix of pain that accompanied the pleasure. But, deep down, you were enjoying it. You enjoyed the way he manhandled you, the way he spoke to you like you were nothing, the way he was fucking you like you were just a flesh light.

“Oh god your pussy is just sucking me in, clenching so tightly around me, cum for me again bitch.”

Unable to spread your pussy for him any longer, you gripped the sheets as you came hard around his cock. He continued fucking you through your high, making sure you felt everything. Making sure you knew who was fucking you and who gave you such an intense orgasm.

“My turn. I’m gonna cum inside you, breed this pussy. You’re gonna be all swollen and pregnant, then that baby is gonna be my lucky ticket to yours and your father’s fortune,” he laughed.

“Please, no, I can’t— I’m not on birth control,” you cried out.

“Oh fuck, do you feel my cock throbbing? That’s even better.”

Your protests proved futile and he filled you to the brim. The warm feeling of his load inside you making you moan in content.

“See? You’re just a slutty bitch who likes getting her pussy fucked. You know what else needs to be fucked? That tight little ass.”

Horror spread across your face. No one had ever fucked you in the ass before. He spat on your asshole then used your juices and his cum from your pussy to lubricate it, pushing it in with his fingers. You winced at the unusual intrusion. He continued fingering your ass, shoving the lubricants inside and prepping you for his cock.

“Couldn’t stop looking at that tight asshole when you were spreading for me. I just had to have it. You were practically begging for it.”

Maybe he was right, why else would you have spread yourself? Of course he would’ve seen your tight ass and wanted to fuck it too. How could you be so stupid?

“Get ready bitch.”

“Please—”

Your pleads fell on deaf ears and he pulled your ass up to him, pressing his hand into your back so you could arch for him. Slowly, his big cock began slipping inside your ass, inch by inch. He was more generous with it than your pussy.

“Fuck baby, this ass is so fucking tight, I know for goddamn sure I’m the first to fuck you in it.” He was right.

He began pounding harder as your ass opened up for him. You felt so full, you didn’t know you could feel more full until he pushed the handle of the knife into your pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, the intensity making you see stars. All that was in your head was pleasure and cumming again.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” he beamed, “now bounce that ass back on my cock and this knife.”

Obeying immediately, you bounced your ass back. Your moans were so loud, the whole woods could probably hear. You didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t deny how good he was making you feel, how he was hitting all the right spots inside you. His thrusts met your ass and he rammed the handle inside your pussy over and over.

“Squirt for me baby, squirt and I’ll fill this ass up.”

You nodded frantically, still throwing your ass back to him and you screamed, your orgasm overtaking you like you’ve never felt before.

“Good girl, that’s my bitch, now beg, beg for me to cum inside your ass.”

“Please, fuck— please cum inside my ass, I need you to, please do it,” you begged.

He smirked, throwing the knife on the bed and slapping your ass as he groaned loudly, his load spurting in your ass. He held you in place and soon pulled out, watching as his cum leaked out of both your holes. He ruined you. You were his.

As he pulled out and fell beside you, you instinctively snuggled into his side, a million degrading thoughts running through your head.

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blackynsupremacy · 2 months ago

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EVERY MUSICIAN’S

FAN

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: nicholas was just supposed to be a replacement for your lead guitarist, but now it seems he wants to be more than that.

contains: 80s au, songfic, angst, smut, reader is a famous rock/popstar, 18+ content (mdni), infidelity (reader does), drug/alcohol/tobacco use, implication of a toxic relationship/affair, greed, manipulation, swearing, praise kink, riding, missionary, choking, squirting, cream pie, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (m/f receiving)

a/n: ever since i saw that picture of nick, i had this in my head. plus, ya’ll know how much i love me some mj. reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @sabrinasopposite @greengoblinswifey @supaprettyg @hoffmansgirl @titsout4nicholas @jkr820 @simply-lovley44 @hnch33rios @hopefully-saturn @xoxoglittergossip @austeenbootler @niteskysx @thabiddie23 @sheydnni @venic-bxtch @miguelspvssy

“i fucking mean it, nicholas! this is the last goddamn time.”

that’s what you said the last time as you were gathering your scattered clothes that were sprawled all over the floor. as you concealed every part of your fucked out body, nicholas, who was only clad in a chained cross necklace, casually laid back between the sheets of the lust-filled bed of the hastily rented motel room with a hand behind his head and the other inhaling a cigarette between his lips. he huffed out a cloud of smoke with a satisfied expression playing on his devilishly handsome face,

“ooh, someone’s mad. you’re back to calling me nicholas. when’re you gonna get tired of saying the same shit, doll?” he rhetorically questioned with a glint of mischief.

your gaze darkened as your lips formed in a tight line. he was absolutely right, but here you were, with your head so damn stuck in the clouds still believing you had control over this mess of a situation.

“that’s your name, ain’t it?— and don’t act so smug, asshole. i got somebody and as soon as that curtain goes down at the last stop, you can get the hell out my band and like ray said, hit the fucking road! just let me be.” as you don your undergarments and reach for your shirt, you spoke to him with so much venom laced in your voice. the same voice that helped you to get discovered, achieve your dreams, and perform for your adoring fans around the world. speaking of fans, it enchanted one in particular that happened to enchant you back—in the worst way possible. nicholas’ sinister, melodious laughter echoed in the tense silence before he took another drag from his cigarette and puffed out more air.

“hey—you do whatever you want, baby. you’d let me just be a roadie if it means i get to fuck your brains out.”

“bullshit, nicholas! you’re lower than a fucking groupie. plus, i’ve seen you around other women and i know you’re every move, so you sure as hell won’t trap me…again!”

you couldn’t believe that you fell right into his trap of seduction again. you already had a man, but with the weight of making sure your first worldwide tour was a success and his absence due to a family emergency, the heavy weight you were feeling was added when he waltzed into your world. you were a young star on the rise as a new era was looming in. being lumped in with popular, black rockstars such as michael, janet, jimi, and prince was a massive deal, especially if your music spreads globally. that’s what you loved about what you were doing, your music was your music and people loved it despite your race and sex. it brought them together. you were only twenty-three and after two albums, your latest one was in the high heavens of the charts and even granted you three grammys that sat proudly on your shelf. now, it was time for the next step in your career: a world tour.

it all started three days before the tour began when your lead guitarist, randy, had to recover in the hospital after a near-fatal motorcycle accident. you were glad that he was going to pull through, but now you were in a jam. randy confirmed that he was going to send someone who he knew, trusted, and can shred just as good as him. that’s how you met nicholas chavez when your manager introduced him during a sound check. he only had two years on you, but it was refreshing to have someone in the band within the same age range as you. although you weren’t single, you had to admit that nicholas was fine as a motherfucker. nicholas stood tall in the six foot range with a lightly stubbled chiseled face, piercing brown eyes, and tousled brown hair. not to mention his burly biceps that were shown off in his black, lust for life wife beater topped with a gold cross chain.

he had the look, but could he shred to your music? when you inquired, he gushed about how big of a fan he was of your talent and records. you felt the heat of embarrassment rise on your face as he didn’t forget to comment how you looked more beautiful in person than you did on posters, interviews, and music videos. nicholas really was a fan. you got everyone in position on stage and as soon as he plugged his cherry red guitar within the amp, you attentively observed as nicholas effortlessly glided across the fretted strings. his skilled fingers moved like clockwork while playing some of the introductory notes of the first song in your set list. you cued in the rest of the band before you opened your mouth to serenade the empty stadium with the first verse. out of the corner of your eye, you could see nicholas’ awestruck gaze. his fingers never stopped moving on the guitar. during this routine, you’d step towards randy and smoothly orbit around him as his chords strummed in harmony with your vocals. when you did so around nicholas, his eyes never pulled away from your figure as he saw you in your element as if you were a goddess—his shining star. he was a shoe in.

“thank you, l.a.! i love you!”

you bade a farewell to the roaring crowd of fans into the microphone before you take a bow and exit the stage with the band following suit. there were a couple dressing rooms in the back, but there was a common area where you and your crew went to congratulate each other in merriment for such a wonderful kick-off to the tour. there was some champagne toasts raised for your accomplishment and for randy’s recovery.

“yo! let’s not forget the newbie for stepping in and absolutely killing that shit tonight. i appreciate it, nick—” you cheered then took a pause, placing your fingers on your lips to hush yourself. you weren’t sure if he was comfortable being addressed as such. “shit, my bad! i know we just met, but you don’t mind if i call you nick, do you?” you questioned as you flashed an amicable grin. nicholas reciprocated with his own grin that you found to be—beguiling of sorts. with the thought of your own relationship, you brushed it off immediately, taking a sip of the alcohol.

“it’s no sweat. you’re a shining star, so i’d be honored if you do.” he responded with a wink which caused your already drunk bandmates to hoop and holler as they nudged nicholas and egged him on. you calmed them down and confirmed the fact of your relationship. nicholas still didn’t seem dejected,

“well, he’s the luckiest guy if he gets to be with you.”

you bashfully wave him off before taking one last gulp and standing,

“aw, thank you, nick, but there’s no need to flatter me. you’re just saying that!”

oh, how wrong you were. little did you know, nicholas meant every word. throughout this tour, he was determined to make his wildest fantasies of making you his star come true, whether you had a man or not. three weeks of the tour progressed and you were more pumped than ever with each stop. your confidence was skyrocketing in your musical abilities and stage presence, nicholas always made sure to let you know that while you guys would have a drink and a smoke together in your dressing room after the show. you didn’t immediately jump into the limo like your other bandmates afterwards to go off to a party for some drinks, narcotics, and groupies. as a rising star, privacy was a gift. you’d want to take a few moments to chill, relish the moment, and reflect on your performance. you would use the payphone to call your boyfriend to converse about each concert during the first week, but some calls were received and others weren’t picked up. the worry bubbled in your stomach with what could be keeping him so preoccupied. eventually, you didn’t leave a message or just tried to call once a week. you were surprised that nicholas didn’t follow suit with the rest of the crew which resulted in you inviting him to recuperate with you, so that he wouldn’t feel left out. at first, it was just him praising you for your hard work and skill and you guys exchanging basic information about your early lives. then before you know it, the undeniable chemistry was simmering between you—on and off the stage.

things came to a head when you and nicholas were sitting on the black, velvet sofa of your dressing room. he was fooling around, strumming and improvising riffs on his guitar while you watched and smoked a cigarette. you were thoroughly impressed with his ability, it was as if a guitar fell into his hands at birth and he just went with it. you scooted closer, observing which finger stayed on which fret or strummed on which string.

“nick, you’re a talent with those riffs, man. it’s like fucking magic the way you handle those fingerings.” you mused and smashed the cigarette butt in the ashtray on the table as he halted his movements.

“hah, thanks! means a lot from coming from my biggest inspiration. it’s not everyday you get to meet your idols—let alone, get a compliment from em’.” with one last strum, he sat the guitar securely within the case and turned towards you with a lopsided grin on his face. there was that same charming expression that you feel that—enticement, maybe even desire towards him and he never was discreet about how he felt towards you either. no, you really shouldn’t be feeling that way. he’s basically a co-worker! how would that look on the tabloids if you ever thought about crossing that line? with a kind expression, you humbly wave him off as you’ve done before,

“nick, seriously, you’re too kind. you don’t always have to flatter me. y’know the guys have been giving us a hard time about how you have this big crush on me. that’s hilarious, right?” you nervously chuckle and averted your gaze down to your hands before they shift to his. they looked so firm, so powerful. you didn’t miss the veins that were protruding from the tanned skin of his hands. there was now a silence lingering, an unspoken tension. nicholas had to make his move.

“you know that i mean those things i say, right?”

your eyes jerked themselves on his to make sure you were hearing him correctly. you prayed he was just joking, but judging from this stare down, you could tell that he was not playing around.

“nick, i—” you stammer, but he catches it in time.

“i don’t say those things because i have to—i say ‘em because i want to and what if the guys were maybe onto somethin’?”

“onto what?” you ask, anticipating his answer.

“my ‘crush’ on you. sweetheart, i’d be a goddamn liar if i were to deny what they said. i mean—look at you, you’re talented and you have the voice of an angel. you’re real. you actually get people through your music, so you’re not like these other fucking posers.” nicholas brings his body in closer to yours, making you both mere centimeters in distance. “by the way, you’re so fucking beautiful. it’s not even real. your skin, your hair, your body. fuck, it just makes me insane that i’m not yours.” he proclaimed, his arm sliding around behind the sofa, his fingertips sensually grazing the brown skin of your shoulder as he continues to sing his praises to you, “every time you walk around me during that one song, i get so hard—heh, it’s pathetic because you don’t even fucking touch me.” he chuckles, his warm breath tickling your face as you instinctively clench your thighs to douse the pulsating throbbing within your core. nicholas certainly didn’t miss that as he didn’t miss the opportunity to rest his free hand on your bare thigh. at his subtle touch, you were shamefully soaked. you had to get away, right now, but why weren’t you getting up? why didn’t you move away as nicholas ghosted his lips over yours? maybe it was your boyfriend’s absence and the long, lonely nights of sleeping solo in an executive suite fit for a star.

“nick, i know what you’re doing and—” you gulp under his lustful gaze that continued to draw you in. you still never moved from your spot. “i know how these rockstars get on these tours, but i’m not with that. i have someone.” you look towards the window, knowing that the payphone is just right outside. not that you’ve been keeping track, but you haven’t even called on the phone tonight to tell your man that you were doing okay. nicholas’ long fingers firmly, yet softly guide your chin, so that you were face to face to again.

“hey, hey. i get it, doll, but you can’t tell me that you don’t get—” with the lick of his lips, he glanced down to your still crossed legs, “lonely.”

his words were nothing, but the truth and you hated it. you could feel the heat of radiating off his body, the way his brown gaze stuck to you with admiration and desire like the true fan he claimed to be. you wanted to make a run for it, to push him away and remind yourself of your commitment, but the truth was that the loneliness had been creeping in and looming over you like this dark cloud that won’t move.

“look, nick. this isn’t right,” you urged. you attempted to deny him and yourself from falling into such a sinful, yet enticing endeavor, but even as the words left your lips, you felt the pull of his energy. it was so enigmatic. for a temporary replacement, he had the look and the charisma of a true star. you couldn’t deny that nicholas was indeed a fine specimen of a man. the females in the stands would go crazy whenever he had the chance of an improvised guitar solo. it was obvious they were digging the way he moved his fingers or how his vein ridden biceps would flex with every movement more than his music ability. now that it came down to it, you were one of them. you could see the way his toned chest rose and fell, the way his breath quickened as he leaned in just a fraction more. you didn’t miss how his eyes continuously shifted from yours to your lips.

“c’mon, is it really so wrong for you to want to feel something real?” nicholas asked, his voice tantalizingly low as each word was dripping with temptation. “you’re out here, living this incredible life with some insane fucking talent and beauty. don’t lie to me, babe, you want something more.” his hand traveled farther up on your thigh. you could see the smirk forming on his face once he felt the sensation of goosebumps rising on your bare, brown skin. you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as if it were going to literally explode. the palpable tension in the air made it difficult to think straight.

“i have someone, okay?” you repeated, but it felt weaker this time, as if you were trying to convince yourself more than him. how pathetic. nicholas chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“oh, yeah? i bet if you went out to that phone, he wouldn’t even pick up. you see, i’m always here for you, so how ‘bout you let go and use me—just for one night, hm?” he whispered close to your ear, his lips ghosting along your jawline. you wanted to feel the touch of his lips press onto your skin, but now you were stuck with a choice—or what little of a choice you had left. if leaving were an option, you would’ve gotten the hell out of dodge by now.

“i shouldn’t.” you murmured, but even as you spoke, you could feel yourself beginning to crumble. “c’mon, baby, just one night,” he urged, his voice a seductive whisper before his fingers easily slid up to the area of where your legs are crossed. “let me show you what you’ve been missing. i’m your biggest fan, so let me prove it to you. you deserve to feel good, to let go of all the pressure and just—be.” at that phrase, you sigh as the tense muscles in your legs suddenly turn to jelly, giving him all the access that he needed to slide his fingers within your leather skirt. his middle grazes over the lace material of your panties before he presses the tip of finger flat against the damp surface of your clothed pussy. nicholas could gloat at the fact that even when you said no, you were already putty in his hands, but he just couldn’t fathom the thought of him actually arousing his musical idol of all people—what luck he had tonight.

“just say the word, honey, and i’m all yours tonight. i won’t go any further until you do.” as he spoke, you felt the weight of your loneliness pressing down on you, the longing for connection that had been building up inside you. the thought of giving in, of letting him take you away from it all, was intoxicating—just like the scent of cigarettes mixed with his cologne now that he was closer than ever. god, you just wanted to feel desired, to be wanted in a way that only he seemed to understand. no one was around, so how could the paps possibly see what you were up to? shit, male stars do this all the time and never seem to get flack for it. they get to do whatever they want with their little groupies and they’re deemed as kings, but nicholas was just one man, so—you made your decision. with a shaky breath, you deliberately nodded and shrugged your shoulders. “hah, fuck it—just for tonight.” you said, your voice trembled with anticipation before you pointedly turned to look him straight into his eyes.

“but, we can’t let it go further than that.” you affirm.

nicholas’ brown eyes lit up with a mixture of triumph and desire, and in that moment, you knew you were stepping into a world of pleasure and possibly, regret. he’s got you where he wants you and frankly, you couldn’t really give a fuck for now.

“oh, trust me, baby. you won’t regret it,” with a tone of mischief, he promised and it didn’t take a second for him to finally crash his lips on yours to which you reciprocated without any more doubts once you place your hands on his jawline to bring him in closer as if you were a starved woman. as the kiss progressed, his cunning digits stealthily moved your panties to the side beneath you skirt, causing you to open your legs wider. the pads of middle and ring fingers glided along your slit before his thumb came in to caress pressured light circles around your clit . you whimpered out into nicholas’ mouth, giving his tongue the opportunity to intrude into your mouth like a smooth criminal, you instantly went along with it as your desire for his touch began to increase. a whine left your lips when his descended to lay an attack on your neck. as he did so, you jolted a bit when he stuck his middle inside of you. your wet, cushiony walls stretched to give him the warm welcome he’s been craving for a while.

“fuck, you’re so tight. so fucking beautiful. i bet you don’t get like this for your boyfriend, eh?” he darkly chuckled, deliberately moving in and out your pussy.

“ah, nick, please.” you’re practically begging for him to add one or two more just to get that much needed release that’s been bottled up. as if he were reading your mind, he slipped in another finger and gained his speed. you moan out his name as your hips instinctively buck for his fingers meet in the middle with that special spot. he smirks at the beautiful music of squelching as you clench tighter around him.

“shit, baby, you hear that? god, you’re soaked.” he teasingly mused while making a scissoring motion, you could hear the volume of your arousal getting louder as his fingers easily move faster. his thumb was back to rapidly rubbing and pressing onto your clit like it was a button on an arcade game. you were just about to cum when he pulled his fingers away, leaving you whining at the emptiness.

“nick, why’d you st—” your words were cut short when he placed his fingers atop of your lips. they were glistening as they were coated in your juices.

“here—wanna taste?” nicholas asked, urging you to give him access to your mouth. a satisfied grin rose on his lips when you answered by sucking off both fingers at the same time. he bit his lip and attentively watched. when you hummed at the taste, he could feel the blood rapidly flowing to his rising cock as you didn’t dare to break the lustful eye contact between you.

“fuck.” nicholas exhaled, instantly taking his fingers from his mouth and initiating another fervent kiss to your lips. he needed to taste and feel you—all of you, so with one of his strong arms wrapped around your body, he swiftly laid you on your back against the plush, black velvet cushions of the sofa. he positions his large body right in between your legs and ruts his clothed arousal against your own as you both take a moment to get lost in each other’s lips before he goes down from your neck to your chest. your hands find their way within his messy, brown hair while he suckles on the melanated skin of your cleavage. his hands then slide under your corset top, he’s so damn giddy that there’s no bra underneath. he palms his firm hands against your soft breasts that he was dying to see for the first time. he peered at you when his hands gripped the hem as if to ask if he can proceed. once you silently give your approval, he pulls the top over head to expose your bare upper half. his hands roamed your body with a hunger that made your skin tingle with goosebumps, his fingers trailing down your sides, exploring every curve. with hooded lids and his mouth slightly agape, he just stared in awe at how this moment could never compare to the numerous sensual fantasies he’s had of you in the past.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his hands now pinning your hips deeper within the sofa as he continued to deliberately grind his own into you.

“fuck, i can’t say it enough. you fucking see what you do to me?”

“ah, fuck, nick…” you whimpered, the sound escaping your lips as you bucked your hips up to his. your pussy was practically aching with how much you needed him, you were savoring this moment, but not too much as you hurriedly sat up to pull his tank over his head only to reveal how much of an absolute unit nicholas was. you knew he was fit, but it was like he was straight from the cover off the latest issue from playgirl magazine. he reveled at how your hands slowly roam from his chest down to his firmly toned abdomen. you basically clench around nothing when the ridge of each hard, bulging muscle are within your hands. they travel to his navel, the dark tresses of his happy trail tickled against your fingers. that’s when you finally see the hardened tent of arousal locked within his jeans, you attempt to touch it, but he softly takes ahold of your wrist before you could so. nicholas teasingly clicks his tongue,

“tsk, tsk, tsk. you’re so damn greedy. how ‘bout you do that after i get a taste?” he quips, placing a gentle kiss to your palm before he leans over you to slide your leather skirt down your legs. your drenched black, lace panties follow after, showcasing a clear string of your sweet nectar as they finally depart from your body. you observe as nicholas readies himself in the position between your legs, opening them wider, so that he can be a perfect fit. he marvels at the sight of your wet core before he leaves a trail of wet kisses along each of your inner thighs, pleasuring, yet teasing you as he makes his journey closer to the center. you shudder when his tongue finally makes contact by deliberately licking a long stripe up the slit before he gets to his dirty work. he was devouring you as if your pussy was a treasure he’d been searching for. you vocalize groans of ecstasy while caressing his hair as his lips enclose around your clit, sucking the sensitive nub like a piece of hard candy.

“s-shit—nick. that feels s’good.” you praise, throwing your head back, your fingers dig in the jungle of his head to pull him in as close as possible. nicholas was giving you all of what he’s got and you both knew you couldn’t deny it. he could cum right now as he witnessed you writhe under his touch, but he was patient enough. the combination of him humming in satisfaction against your skin, the bridge of his nose bumping into your clit, and his stubble tickling at your folds could drive you over the edge. you slowly rolled your hips into his face, he starts to become relentless once his tongue is deep with your walls and his thumb plays with your puffy clit to stimulate you further.

“mmm, nick, baby—uh, i’m—” you struggle to communicate as you squirm, the hot ball of pleasure builds from inside of you.

“shh, shh, i know. let it all go. c’mon, beautiful, do it for your biggest fan. i want you give it to me.”

at his words, you were already undone. you clench around his tongue and do what he commands by releasing a literal burst of your arousal onto his face, chin, and even the couch. he laps every single drop as you ride out your first of many highs. you were spent, but not so much when your hands guide his face to yours. you steal a second taste of yourself on his tywhen you crash your lips onto his in hunger before you finally take initiative,

“nick.” you softly, yet firmly call out, “take it all off. sit up nice and pretty f’me.” he doesn’t waste time to sit himself upright on the couch. being the good and loyal fan that he is, you stand between his spread thighs and reward him with sloppy kisses to his lips, bringing them down further until you’re where he’d want you the most. your hands don’t wait to unfasten and unzip the ripped jeans he has on. after his assistance of discarding the clothing to a random part of the room, you kneel to be face to face with the large tent within his plaid boxers. you smirk and return the same teasing energy he gave you, sliding your hands up his knees and down his massive thighs before you firmly palm his arousal. god, he was definitely hard and he was definitely huge, and the full thing hasn’t even sprung out yet. he lets out a guttural sigh in pleasure as you roll his erection within your hand. being ready than you’ll ever be, you slide the boxers down his legs and off his feet to break him free before you reach out to stroke his impressive ego. it was so nice, tall, and stiff. nicholas seemed like the type to keep it up for a while and the best part: it was all for you. he lets out a string of profanity when your tongue leaves a trail along the underside of the shaft. you both can’t take the teasing anymore as your hands firmly place themselves on each thigh, your tongue swirls around his leaking tip as if you were trying to keep melting ice cream from falling off a cone. you take him into your mouth, hallowing your cheeks to move your head up and down the entire length.

“ah, just like that. fuck, i knew you were talented, but this is fucking ridiculous—shit! keep going, doll. fuck, i love your mouth.” his praises motivate you to take half of him within your mouth and the other half to stroke his cock with your palm simultaneously. you hum what happened to be the tune of his favorite song of yours against his skin and he instinctively bucked his hips to bring himself further down your throat. oh, you fucking minx. he knew you wanted to make him feel good as well, but while he appreciated the thought, he only had one mission: you.

“s-stop—can’t fucking take it. m’not gonna cum like this.” he hisses, placing a palm on your neck immediately stopping your movements.

“get the fuck on top of me, right now.”

it was like clockwork the way he effortlessly picked you up from your spot on the floor, placing your knees on each side of his legs, so that your entrance was centimeters from the tip. nicholas strokes himself and gingerly runs the tip along the slit, his hands grip onto your hips to guide them down, filling you up inch by inch until he was right at home. you groaned at the girth that rested inside of you as he leans back on the sofa with his hands behind his head.

“shit, you feel amazing—go ahead, angel, use me. i’m all you need tonight, i’ll be your freak, your lover. for you, i’ll be your any-fucking-thing.” nicholas hyped, jolting his hips to give you a fresh start for you to move on your own and boy, did it feel exhilarating. you finally got your rhythm as you repeatedly moved up and down on his cock, your slick making it easy for him to slide in and out without a problem. with one hand placed on his chest and the other around where his chain rested on his neck, this gave you the leverage you needed to lose full control.

“ah, fuck. nick, baby, you feel so damn good.” your hips don’t stop when his tip lightly touches that precious spot, but you need more, “hah, p-please touch me.” nicholas’ warm gaze instantly darkened at your command, his hands grip right under the plush cheeks of your ass as his own hips jolt up to meet yours. you and nicholas simultaneously groan in pleasure when his tip rapidly bumps against your cervix.

“fuck, look at you. you like using me as your little plaything? y’know i’d do anything for my shining star.” he teased, quickly gaining speed in his hips. you were about to be close as that ball of heat grew within you, but you were starting to tire out. flustered, you lightly tapped him on his burly bicep thrice.

“n-nick! i-i can’t—” you stammer with a desperate look in your eyes, he holds you firmly by the small of your back and flips you over before placing your legs over his shoulders to drill his hips right into yours as if he never lost his rhythm. nicholas was simply mesmerized at the sight before him. you’re crying his name out every second with your eyes shut tight preparing yourself for another orgasm as your walls clench tighter around him. to nicholas, this was heaven, he didn’t give a fuck if he was fucking the shit out of someone else’s chick.

“look at me, baby.” he softly orders, placing one hand on your neck to prompt you into opening your eyes, you do so. “you getting close?” he questions further to which you barely reply, “m-mhm! m’gonna cum.” the next thing you know is that he leans down to slowly move his lips with yours, his tongue gaining entrance as his free hand wedges between you to spread you a little wider and caress pressured circles on your clit with his thumb again to bring you closer combined with his own movements that were starting to get sporadic. you pulled your lips from his momentarily

“nick, come with me. it’s okay.” you say one last time not keeping your eyes off of each other. “s-shit, you’re amazing.” he praises as your body trembles beneath him, his thrusts get sloppier as he moves on your nub faster before you both wail out, becoming completely undone. you find yourself squirting on his cock and navel while he completely pours himself deep inside of you, coating your walls in the thick whiteness of his arousal that now drips from you after he pulls out. thank god you were on the pill, you were already in deep trouble as it is. after you both gathered yourselves together and go your separate ways to prepare for the next stop, the guilt inside you was forming at the realization that— you cheated.

“this can’t happen again, nick.” you firmly said.

“you’re the boss.” he responded nonchalantly.

that’s when you swore to keep it nothing, but professional with nicholas from that day forward. if by professional, you mean sneaking him into your suite while the band was partying or engaging in a quickie within your dressing room. it was futile, the more you tried to resist him, the more persistent he got which would lead to you threatening to kick him out or reiterating that you had a boyfriend, but somehow, it always ends up with him coaxing you into filling that void within your bed—and your heart.

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erajunex · 4 months ago

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Here’s a sneak peek from my upcoming Father Charlie Mayhew x priestshousekeeper!reader one shot.

➡️ read the entire work here.

18+ content below the cut MDNI.

You were supposed to go, but you couldn't move. You didn't want to.

For the first time in your whole yet short life, you heard it. That voice. The voice of temptation.

You kept staring at him with bated breath, hoping that that show would last forever.

"Ah, fuck..." he groaned and you shuddered.

A shiver went straight to your core and you immediately felt the urge to clench your thighs together and hold back that unusual tickle you had never experienced in such a strong way before.

But it wasn't enough.

Forgive me, Father... you thought. Your cheeks reddened with shame as the last piece of reason faded away from you at the exact moment your right hand went straight under the cloth of your sundress, and just as if it had been guided by a dark and sinister force it sneaked between your legs, right in your cotton panties.

For I have sinned.

English is not my first language, I’m currently translating this from Italian so please be kind with me, i’m sorry for any inaccuracies😭🙏🏼 Leave a comment or lemme know if you wanna be added to the tag-list!

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pascaloverx · 2 months ago

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HAUNTED (+18)

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future. If you like this fanfic, please interact, leave comments. This author will be grateful for any interaction. Minors should not interact with this chapter, be warned.

THREE FIVE

FOUR (+18)

Days passed, with you avoiding Charlie as if he were a disease. The truth was that his mere presence already unsettled your mind. You needed these days to reflect, allowing yourself to leave the guest room only when he was at work, taking your meals in secret. Mary helped you avoid your husband, though she always advised you to talk to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, here you were—facing Dr. Charlie Mayhew while he used an exercise bike, wearing a tank top that revealed his strong arms. Sweat glistened on his body, an almost provocative scene. "What are you plotting, Dr. Mayhew?" you said aloud, watching him exercise in the middle of the house. He was doing it on purpose—obviously.

"I see you've returned to calling me Doctor—such progress. If you must know, I’m simply enjoying my day off. Exercising to keep my body in shape, the very same body that once greatly satisfied my wife. You know, the one who now seems to prefer ignoring me over taking advantage of it..." he says playfully, as if trying to seduce you while also grumbling.

"Your body? Is that how you plan to get my attention?" you say, feigning indifference, as though his attempt to distract you with his physique is failing—though, in truth, it’s working all too well. You remain standing in front of the guest room door, dressed in your nightgown, noticing that neither Mary nor Ed is anywhere to be seen. Charlie, still pedaling on the exercise bike, has his back to you, his posture emphasizing his toned rear, which you can’t help but eye almost hungrily.

"It used to work, I’ll admit I’m resorting to extremes. And just so you know, Mary and Ed are off today. It’ll be just you and me the entire day. In case you were planning to hide away like a frightened little mouse," Charlie says as he steps off the bike, approaching you while using a small towel to wipe the sweat from his body.

"You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Is our marriage now about disrespecting each other’s personal space?" you ask, slightly irritated, nearly pouncing on him in your frustration.

"What marriage, mi amor? You see me as an enemy, as the villain in your story, not as your husband." Suddenly, the air grows heavier as you stand mere inches apart, your eyes locked on each other, the tension between you almost tangible.

"Are you asking for a divorce, dear husband?" you ask softly, your voice calm. Charlie's breath brushes against your face, the scent of his sweat acting like an aphrodisiac, stirring something deep within you.

"What other option do we have? Stay married while playing cat and mouse? You avoid me, and I pretend it doesn’t affect me? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking your husband is a monster and hiding from him? All of these options are a waste of time and emotional energy," Charlie speaks so rationally, though his expression betrays his words. It’s as if he’s daring you to consider the possibility of ending it all.

"It feels like we’re just going in circles around each other," you murmur, exhaling a heavy breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You close your eyes slowly, feeling the weight of what ending your marriage would truly mean. It’s a thought that has crossed your mind before, yet there’s an ache in your chest at the idea of stepping out of Charlie’s life for good.

"Tell me honestly, would you feel at peace if I left? If I were no longer your husband?" he asks, stepping closer, his tongue slowly wetting his lips. It’s almost as if he’s testing your reaction to his proximity, studying your every move.

"There will be no peace for me until I truly know who I am," you reply, locking eyes with him, though now with a growing desire stirring within you. Your hand grazes his muscled arm, sending a visible shiver through him. He leans in closer, tilting his head as if seeking permission in your gaze. Slowly, deliberately, he tugs down the neckline of your nightgown just enough to bare your shoulder, his eyes darkening as he watches your response.

"And until you remember who you are, will I need to quit my job and dismiss Mary and Ed just to have a proper conversation with you?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his gaze flicking to you from the corner of his eye as if gauging your reaction. A shiver courses through you, but your fingers find their way to his damp hair, gently caressing it.

Charlie's kisses trail from your shoulder to your neck, his warm breath brushing against your skin, sending a cascade of sensations through you. "So you admit you orchestrated this to force me to interact with you?" you manage to ask, though your focus falters with every brush of his lips. When his mouth lingers near your jawline, you realize rational thought is slipping away, overtaken by the pull of what you're feeling.

"I admit it—I wanted you with no distractions, no escape. I was desperate," he confesses, his voice low and laced with vulnerability. His lips travel softly over your cheek, grazing the bridge of your nose and the corners of your eyes, each kiss more tender than the last. His hands, warm and deliberate, trace the curve of your body, sliding your nightgown higher with a slow, intoxicating purpose, as if savoring every inch of contact.

His hands grip your thighs tightly as he slowly pulls them away from your face as if he's analyzing your reactions. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't dreamed about this exact moment the entire time you were unconscious. However, if you're not comfortable, we can call it a day. As long as you don't ignore me again, that will be enough for me," Charlie speaks as if he were holding himself back from exploding with desperate to have you. He rests his head on your shoulder, looking up, his expression seemed like the perfect mix of lust and insecurity. At that moment something awakened in you, the notion that he might actually be sincere, at least about his desire to have you.

"You settle for so little," you mutter, waiting for a reaction from him. Charlie then lifts his head, staring at you for a few moments. His fingers caress your face with a certain firmness, passing his fingers under your lips. At some point his thumb slipped between your lips and you bit it lightly, then sucked on Charlie's finger as you stared at him.

"You're playing with fire, mi amor," Charlie says, kissing the corner of your mouth, as if he were teasing you. You turn off any inhibitions that would keep you from attacking Charlie's lips. Honestly, whether or not he is who Detective Lois is looking for doesn't really matter at this point. Your soul seems to be thirsting for Charlie Mayhew's presence, not just near you but within you.

"Burn me with your fire, Dr. Mayhew," you whisper. Charlie's eyes grow dark, his lips attack yours in a fervent, messy kiss. He sucks on your tongue as he tightens his arms around your waist. The kiss almost takes your breath away but leaves you so hot. You use your hands to grope his chest, while you cling to him. The kiss breaks as Charlie starts to kiss your neck passionately, nibbling your skin while his hands start to caress your breasts through your nightgown. At first, the gentle way his fingers played with your nipples through your nightgown sent a shiver down your spine. He seemed to grow impatient, as if he wanted to feel your skin against his immediately. Then he lifted you up with his arms, making you put your legs around his waist and hold on tight to his shoulders so you wouldn't fall. He placed you under the kitchen counter, placing his body between your legs. Quickly, he began to take off the nightgown you were wearing.

"See my beautiful wife, naked beneath her nightgown as if she knew I would be extremely pleased to see her like that," Charlie speaks as he runs his fingers over your naked body, ending up holding your ass with both of his hands, squeezing it tightly as he brings you closer to him. You who are studying every detail to memorize Charlie Mayhew's touch and taste. You pull his hair back, holding the strands firmly, going hungrily to Charlie's lips and kissing him. He bites your lip as he tries to match your pace during the kiss. You take your hands out of his hair, and start to pull down his shorts and underwear.

"I see that my wonderful husband was really right when he said I should take advantage of his body," you teases him as she watches his cock spring out of his underwear. Charlie gives you a kiss, as he moves towards you, using his hands that are no longer on your ass, to spread your legs wider. As his tongue explores not only your mouth but also your neck, his fingers enter you without hesitation. His fingers, going in and out quite quickly while your pussy squeezed them, you ended up moaning from the pleasure of feeling the pressure of his fingers in your pussy.

"An eternity could pass, but being inside you will still be the best feeling of my life," he murmurs, gently biting your ear while talking against it, giving you goosebumps. You then grab his hand before he can put his fingers inside you again, and with a thirsty look, you try to tell him that you want his cock. He then holds your thighs firmly, separating your legs with precision and then thrusts his erect cock inside you. You let out a loud moan, the feeling of him fucking you is something you weren't prepared to feel. He kisses your lips softly as he slowly thrusts his cock in your pussy that is already wet. You hold on to him as you feel him move in and out of you faster and faster.

For a moment it was as if an animalistic instinct took over him. You close your eyes tightly, reveling in the feeling of being taken by him, while your nails scratch every possible part of his body. For a moment, you drag your ass forward to increase the proximity of your body to Charlie's. He seems to want to see your face, moving your hair away from your face and pulling your face with his hand, kissing your lips once more. However, his hand goes down to your neck and and hold it there firmly. For some reason, the feeling of being lightly suffocated by him feels extremely satisfying. The more he pressed his hand against your neck, the more horny you became for him.

You were so wet that his cock was fitting perfectly inside your pussy, the synchronization of your bodies was almost surreal. Your only regret was not ripping off the damn tank top Charlie is wearing. With each thrust you feel yourself getting close to cumming, feeling your breath leaving you as he squeezes your neck in a strong way, taking you to the limit. You grind on Charlie's cock, making him groan heavily as he cums inside you. Even so, he continues to thrust his cock inside you while your pussy is sensitive from feeling him cum hard, until you cum too.

You two are a mess, dirtying the kitchen counter. Charlie lifts your head slowly, kissing every part of your face gently. "I think we should go take a shower wife. What we just did here certainly made us sweaty," Charlie says as he catches his breath after the sex you had. "You'll have to carry me," you inform him, feeling loose in your legs. He kisses your neck and then carries you to the bathroom in your room, where you bathe and have a second round.

Afterward, everything seemed normal. Charlie and you shared your bed again, following a day spent together during his time off, complete with him preparing dinner for the two of you. The next morning, he woke early for work, leaving a kiss on your cheek and informing you that Mary and Ed would be at your service.

You woke up feeling invigorated, determined to seek answers while also embracing the peace that being with Charlie seemed to bring. A few hours later, after getting ready, you set out to visit Detective Tryon. Ed accompanied you there, and you felt no fear of Charlie discovering your visit to Lois, as you had resolved to extend a measure of trust to both of them.

"Mrs. Mayhew, to what do I owe the honor of your visit to my workplace?" Lois asks, lighting a cigarette as she settles into her chair. You find yourself in her office, surrounded by officers, inmates, and suspicious individuals.

"I came here to understand why I am considered a suspect in your investigation," you reply quickly, remaining standing. Detective Tryon looks you up and down before exhaling a puff of smoke, seemingly pondering your words.

"You’ll need to follow me to a room where I can show you the answer to your question," Lois says as she stands, gesturing for you to follow. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you trail behind her as she leads the way to a room at the back of the precinct.

Upon entering the room, you are met with paintings depicting crime scenes, eerily similar to those you had once seen in Charlie Mayhew's office. Each artwork bears the same hauntingly realistic and morbid tone, sending chills down your spine.

"What do these paintings have to do with your suspicions?" you ask, bewildered by the connection between yourself and these brutally realistic depictions of crime.

"Well, Mrs. Mayhew," Detective Tryon begins, her tone grave, "I must inform you that these paintings are of your authorship. Not only that, but you need to understand that they depict actual, unsolved homicide cases. And you painted these works before the murders depicted in them occurred. This has made you a suspect. Moreover, all the victims were, at some point, connected to the hospital where your husband works. Many were even his patients."

Her piercing gaze settles on you, and the weight of her words sends your mind spiraling. You glance at the paintings again, confusion thickening as fragmented memories resurface. Images of your past flit through your mind—your quiet painting room, where you used to work with calm precision. Suddenly, you recall painting the image of one of the murdered women, her lifeless form rendered in vivid detail.

What strikes you as bizarre is that your reference seemed to be a photograph—one that was pinned to a bulletin board in front of you. The realization stirs something deep within, but a sharp pain in your head interrupts your thoughts, slicing through the memory like a blade. Dizzy and disoriented, you close your eyes tightly, the room spinning around you. Detective Tryon calls your name, her cigarette dropping forgotten to the floor as she rushes toward you. But it is too late. Your body goes limp, and you collapse to the ground, succumbing to unconsciousness.

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xhoess · 4 months ago

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pls can you write an happy ending angst with nicholas chavez where reader and him discuss mariage and having children in general and reader shuts down the subjects saying mariage is overrated and meaningless and she hates children and doesn’t want any. so they starts debating/ fighting and he’s flabbergasted bc they don’t have at all the same vision of life and during few days it’s very cold/tensed between them especially him bc he told her that he wanted her to be the mother of their children. but at the end she ends up telling him why she is afraid to have PPD since she had a long depression and there more risks to have post partum depression if you had been depressed, to become a bad mom like her narcissistic mom …

(Yes omg I immediately started when I saw this🥲🥲)

"Facing Fears, Finding Love"

Nicholas chavez x fem reader

Summary: When Nicholas Chavez shares his dreams of marriage and children, you shut him down, leading to a tense argument. Days of distance follow until you confess your fears of postpartum depression and becoming a bad mother due to your past struggles. Nicholas, understanding and supportive, reassures you with unconditional love. Together, you begin to rebuild trust, facing the future with renewed hope and mutual understanding.

Words: 7.6 K

The air was thick with tension, the comfortable silence that had enveloped your cozy living room now feeling stifling. The soft glow of the table lamp cast gentle shadows over Nicholas's features, but the warmth was rapidly giving way to something far colder. He sat perched on the edge of the couch, a half-empty cup of tea cradled between his hands. His gaze had shifted from the window to you, and you sensed that something in him had changed since your blunt words had cut through the evening.

His enthusiasm had been infectious just moments earlier as he excitedly shared his visions of a future filled with laughter and children. You could remember the way his eyes sparkled, how his voice had held such a soothing cadence as he painted dreamlike scenarios of family vacations, birthday parties, and the cozy chaos of everyday life. The dreams that had built up effortlessly in his imagination had felt almost tangible, revived by the warmth of your shared space.

But then you shattered that moment. You could still hear the harshness of your own voice as you declared, "Marriage is overrated and meaningless," and then coolly added, "I hate kids. I don’t want any." The sting of your words hung between you, suspended like a bitter fog that neither of you knew how to dissipate.

Nicholas's expression shifted from one of hope to confusion, and finally to pain. His brows knitted together, as if trying to piece together the fragments of the conversation, and you saw the light in his eyes dim. "Why didn’t you say something before?" he asked, his voice a tight whisper, the tremor in it revealing the depth of his shock.

You opened your mouth, intending to reply, but the words caught in your throat. "I... I didn’t think it mattered," you stuttered, the pit in your stomach tightening as you tried to pick apart your jumbled thoughts.

Nicholas shook his head, his deep-set eyes searching yours for an answer you were not ready to give. "It does matter! You make it sound like all my dreams are foolish. I always thought you’d be the mother of my children!" He stood up abruptly, his movement punctuating the tension that crackled in the room. The chair he had been perched on scraped against the floor, a sound sharp enough to increase your heartbeat.

"I didn’t realize you had those dreams," you argued, defensiveness creeping into your voice. "Why would you assume that I would fill that role? Just because we’re together doesn't mean we want the same future."

Nicholas's face crumpled at your words, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he would crumble under the weight of your lack of understanding. "Because I thought we were building a life together," he shot back, the hurt evident in his tone. "I can’t believe you never mentioned this before. I always shared my dreams with you, and I believed you were sharing yours too. Was it all a lie?"

Your heart raced, and the sense of being cornered filled you with an urge to flee. "It’s not a lie!" you exclaimed, desperate to have him understand. "I just... I never thought you meant it so seriously. You know how I feel about kids, and you always seemed so... sure."

"But those were my hopes!" Nicholas’s voice rose, filled with bewildered frustration. "And you made me feel like I was the only one on this path. I thought we were on the same page—working toward a future together. Now I find out you’ve been harboring these feelings in secret!"

"Do you think I want this?" you replied, anger rising from a place you hadn’t known existed. "Do you think it’s easy for me to admit this? I didn’t want to disappoint you!" The words were out before you could snatch them back, biting into the already frayed fabric of the evening.

Nicholas paused, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath, the realization washing over him as he processed your admission. "You must’ve known I would want to know," he said quietly, the hurt lying heavy in each syllable.

“I thought it could work,” you said, your voice betraying the edge of desperation. “I thought I could learn to want those things. But I can’t. I don’t want them.” The finality in your voice echoed around the room, but the truth collided with the storm brewing within you—a twisted mix of anger, sadness, and guilt.

Nicholas took a deep breath, visibly deflating. "I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want," he said, the warmth of his usual tone replaced by resigned coldness. "But I thought we were building a life together. I thought you were on board with this."

A painful silence descended, so thick you could nearly touch it. The more you tried to dismiss your internal storm, the louder it grew, shrieking that you could lose him, that this could be the turning point of everything you shared.

Nicholas stepped back then, retreating from your presence as if he needed physical space away from the wall he felt was being built between you. "I just... I need some air," he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. And with that, he walked away, leaving the conversation unresolved, like an unfinished melody that echoed in the empty silence.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, a ghost of guilt weaving its strands through your being. You wanted to go after him, to take back your words, but instead, you remained motionless, staring into the distance, the shadow of what had just transpired pressing down on you like an anchor.

The weight of your convictions pressed heavily against your chest, but so too did the fear of what might happen next. Would he really walk away? Would this moment linger? You felt trapped between the walls of your own design, and you couldn't decide which was more terrifying: the thought of losing Nicholas or the dread of confronting the real emotions behind your aversion to his dreams.

Breathing low and shaky, you sank onto the edge of the couch, the faint sound of Nicholas’s footsteps fading into the night. You were left alone, surrounded by silence, filled with a torrent of unresolved emotions swirling deeper in the recesses of your heart.

You spent the next few days drifting through your routine like a ghost. Each morning greeted you with the same tightness in your chest, a constant reminder of the cavernous rift that had opened between you and Nicholas. You felt it as you brewed your coffee, the familiar sound of the kettle boiling echoing in your small kitchen, yet it felt so foreign without Nicholas’s laughter or his gentle teasing about your obsessive coffee-making rituals. The silence was heavy, suffocating.

Nicholas had retreated into himself, a stark shift from the exuberant man who had spent countless evenings talking about dreams and plans. Now, sitting on the couch, you watched him scroll through his phone whenever he was nearby, his eyes dull, the corners of his mouth pressed into a thin line. He seemed a million miles away, lost in thoughts you couldn't penetrate. Each glance in his direction felt like a glimpse into an impenetrable fortress—one that had been built overnight after that fateful evening.

As you prepared your meals, the routine felt strangely haunting. You would plate two servings, only to find yourself taking the food to the table in silence. The atmosphere was heavy with unspokenness, punctuated only by the clattering of utensils. Nicholas would sit opposite you, often looking down at his food, as if it was the most fascinating spectacle in the world. After a few awkward bites, he would excuse himself, muttering something about an early start the following day. You would watch him go, the door swinging shut like the final nail in the coffin of your conversation.

In the evenings, you found yourself gravitating toward the living room window, staring out at the street below, watching people pass by with their laughter and carefree chatter. Your heart ached as you thought of how easy it had once been for you and Nicholas to share such moments, laughing and dreaming about the future. Now, memories felt like daggers, cutting deeper with each recollection of his face lighting up while talking about a family.

You tried to reach out, to bridge the distance, but every time you opened your mouth to speak, words got stuck in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many unexpressed fears that loomed over you like dark clouds. You didn’t want to unpack them in front of Nicholas, especially after how he had looked at you in shock. Instead, you chose solitary evenings, curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book, pretending to be engrossed in stories that danced around you but never quite touched your heart.

Occasionally, you’d catch Nicholas’s eye, and in those brief moments, your heart would flutter with hope. Maybe he’d reach out, maybe he’d say something… But each time, he just looked away, as if he were afraid to delve into that abyss of unexpressed thoughts. It reminded you of the time a friend had brought an injured bird to your doorstep. You both stared at it, sympathizing with its struggle, but when it came to the actual act of helping, you froze. Both of you had chosen to leave it alone, believing it was better that way.

One evening, as golden twilight faded into cool dusk, things grew unbearable. The silence felt like a living entity, twisting around you both like vines, choking the air. You found yourself standing by the window, tracing patterns on the glass with your fingers, when Nicholas’s voice cut through the stillness, soft but laden with weight.

“Are you just going to keep shutting me out?” he asked, his tone edged with pain.

You turned slowly, locking eyes with him. There was a vulnerability there that made your heart ache. Memories surged, unbidden—moments of joy, laughter, and warmth—and it shattered something inside you. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words cowered, retreating back into the shadows of your mind.

Nicholas stepped closer, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans as if they were the only anchor he had left. “We can’t keep doing this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t look at me the way you used to. I feel like I’m losing you.”

His admission cut deeply, the truth of his words reverberating within you. You wanted to scream that you were still there, still the person who loved him fiercely, but the fear of unveiling your struggles kept your tongue tied. Instead, you bit your lip, the taste of dread pooling in your stomach.

“I’m...fine,” you said, the lie tasting bitter on your lips as you looked away.

“Fine? You think this is fine? You closed yourself off after that night, and I am left here, feeling like some kind of stranger. I just want to understand,” he urged, his voice thickening with emotion.

His frustration hung thick in the air, and you felt an overwhelming urge to run, to hide away from the truth that loomed behind your eyes—the fear, the apprehension—a tangled web of hurt that you were still unraveling.

“Just leave me alone,” you finally managed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. It was a defense mechanism, your voice detached and flat, concealing the tempest inside.

Nicholas’s face fell, eyes wide with hurt. “Why are you pushing me away?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I can’t make sense of any of this! I thought we were in this together!”

His words stung, and you stood there, feeling the distance grow wider, casting long shadows in the light of the fading day. “You wouldn’t understand,” you whispered, the admission barely escaping your lips.

With that, he turned and walked away, the weight of his footsteps reverberating through the quiet of the house. You could hear the sound of the door shutting behind him, blunt and final, and you were left standing alone in that echoing silence, the guilt rising inside you like a relentless tide.

As the minutes turned to hours, you sat on the edge of the couch, your head spinning with confusion. You were filled with guilt for not sharing your fears, yet terrified of how he would react if you did. As darkness enveloped the room, so did the realization that the love you cherished felt like it was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

In the emptiness, you found yourself wavering in that fragile silence, torn between the love you had for Nicholas and the walls you had built to shield yourself from the storm raging within. As night deepened, and shadows crept along the walls, you sat encased in loneliness, wondering if the silence between you could ever be broken.

You had counted the hours, but when you were finally able to measure the silence in days, it felt like a weight pressing against your chest. The quiet hung in your apartment like an uncomfortable guest who had overstayed their welcome. The remnants of heated words still echoed in your mind, taunting you as you passed through rooms once filled with laughter and conversation. You thought about reaching out to Nicholas, but each time you opened your mouth to speak, words crumbled in your throat, frail and weak.

The living room, once a sanctuary of warmth, had become a battleground adorned with remnants of the life you shared—the cozy blanket on the couch, the coffee mug still resting on the side table from a time before the argument erupted. Now, even the soft tremble of the air felt altered—thick, stifling. Nicholas had barely spoken since that fateful night, his eyes betraying a hurt that cut deeper with each glance as he withdrew further into himself.

You were busy preparing dinner—an unremarkable pasta dish—when you heard the sound of keys jiggling in the lock. Nicholas entered the house, and the mere act of him crossing the threshold somehow intensified the suffocating silence. You turned your back to him, focusing on the bubbling pot as if it could distract you from the gravity of the moment.

“Hey,” Nicholas said softly, his voice barely rising above the sound of water boiling, but you felt the tremor in it as if the ground beneath you was shifting. You willed your heart to slow, taking a deep breath, bracing yourself for the waves of anxiety that threatened to pull you under.

“Hey,” you managed to murmur without turning around. There was a heaviness in the air between you, a chasm of unspoken words stretching wide. You sensed him lingering in the doorway, unsure of how to breach the wall that had crashed down between you.

After an interminable moment, he finally stepped forward. “I can’t keep doing this,” he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “I can’t stand this silence.” His words wrapped around you, both a lifeline and a knife. “You feel so far away. Why have you shut me out?”

His vulnerability struck you. The warmth of his breath brushed against your neck, and despite the tension, a part of you longed to lean into him, to bridge that unbearable distance. But fear held you back, chaining you in place. You turned to face him, and the sight of his pained expression tugged at something deep inside.

“I don't know where to start,” you finally confessed, your voice wavering. “It’s just...everything has changed so quickly.”

Nicholas stepped closer, his eyes glimmering with concern. “You’re not making sense. I don’t understand what’s going on in your head, but it hurts to feel like you don’t want to share that with me.”

His words cut deeper than any shattering argument. You felt exposed and raw, and yet, in his gaze, you saw the remnants of the love you once felt so confident about. “You want to build a life together, Nicholas,” you said, trying to keep your tone even, but the tremor was there no matter how hard you fought against it. “You want a family, and I...I don’t want that. Not now, not ever.”

“What do you mean?” he questioned, his voice deepening with disbelief. “You never told me this. I always thought—” The weight of his words hung heavy, full of memories and dreams you once shared. He paused, swallowing hard as he looked away, as if seeking some kind of answer in the shadows of the room.

“You always thought I’d be the mother of your children,” you echoed, the bitterness you felt welling at the back of your throat. “So did I. But things don’t always turn out the way we plan, do they?”

His expression twisted with a mixture of hurt and confusion. “Why do you feel the need to shut me out? This isn't just about you. This is about us. Don’t you see how much you’ve changed and how much I care?”

“I just can’t think about that now!” you exclaimed, feeling the bubbling turmoil spilling over. “Life is messy. It's scary, Nicholas! I’m terrified, and I don’t want to repeat the mistakes that were made with me. I don’t even want—”

“Then what do you want?” he pressed, his frustration mounting, but his eyes softened, a glimmer of fear sparking behind them. “Tell me what you want. Do you want to be with me? Can we talk about this?”

“I don’t...” You hesitated, the internal battle raging loudly in your mind. You wanted to collapse into his arms and cry until there was nothing left, but each time you attempted to find the words, your throat constricted, as if afraid of the truth spilling out. The thought of his disappointment crushed you further, and the rawness of your own feelings cut deeply.

With a defeated breath, he whispered, “You know how much I love you, right? You’re my everything. I just always thought… I thought we were on the same path.” He looked down, and you could see the shadows of his dreams fading behind the weight of your words.

Panic clawed at your chest. You’d never intended to destroy the future he envisioned, but here you were, standing among jagged edges and broken pieces of trust.

“I thought you’d be the one to help me build a family,” he murmured, barely audible, his voice thick with emotion. You saw the hurt in his expression, and somewhere in that pain, you felt the truth of your own: you were losing him.

With that realization clawing at your heart, he turned away, moving toward the door again, each step reverberating with a heavy finality. “I need some air,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t do this right now.”

In that moment, as you watched him walk away, the silence between you felt unbearable. You fell back against the cold counter, wrapped in a cocoon of guilt—but your mind spun in chaos, unable to clarify the thoughts clamoring for attention. You were afraid of losing him, yet still lost in your own shadows.

And between you and Nicholas, the door closed, sealing away all the words that now felt too heavy to utter.

The air in the room was heavy, thick with anticipation and unsaid words. You stood at the window, staring out at the dimming sky, the fragments of dusk spilling hues of orange and purple across the horizon. Each fleeting moment echoed your racing heartbeat, the silent battle raging within. Nicholas sat across the room, observing you with an intensity that made your heart clench. How had things escalated so quickly? One moment, you were weaving dreams of a future together, and the next, you'd shattered all that with a single sentence.

"Marriage is overrated and meaningless," you had said, and in return, you'd seen the light dim in Nicholas's eyes, the shock and hurt etched across his features like an unwelcome painting. Now, silence loomed around you, oppressive and thick, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

You turned away from the window, taking a step towards him, your feet heavy with uncertainty. Nicholas's expression remained guarded, a portrait of hurt and confusion, as if he were still trying to shield himself from the blow you'd dealt. But you couldn’t maintain the façade of indifference any longer. The truth clawed at your insides, begging for release.

"Nicholas," you began, your voice trembling. "I—"

He lifted his hand to silence you gently. “Please, just let me speak.”

So you fell silent again, heart racing as you waited for him to find the right words. He took a deep breath, and you could see the struggle behind his calm exterior.

“You shut me out, and I—” he hesitated, a shudder of emotion flitting across his face. “I thought you were my partner, but suddenly, I feel like I don’t even know you.”

You felt a swift pang of guilt. How could you expect him to understand? The words you wanted to speak slid around inside your mind like fish in a bucket, eluding you—but the truth was surfacing, rising, clawing its way out as you felt the weight of these hidden fears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was quieter now, softened by the weight of his pain. “I thought we were on the same page. I pictured us having a family together, sharing our lives… You never mentioned this.”

“I was afraid,” you confessed, the small admission at the tip of your tongue suddenly relieving. “Afraid of what you’d think of me.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything. I’m here, I love you,” he said, his voice almost pleading, and in his eyes, you saw the glimmer of hope, the raw sincerity of someone who was struggling to piece this puzzle together.

“I don’t want to be a failure,” you said, the words tumbling from your lips before you could catch them. You could see Nicholas’s confusion deepen, but you pressed onward, feeling the dam within you begin to crack. “I grew up watching my mother, who was supposed to be my protector, but she was… twisted. Emotional scars… they don’t heal easily, and I’m terrified of becoming her.”

Nicholas remained silent, his eyes widening with concern. The deeper you delved, the closer you felt to that dark recess of your past—unprocessed memories of chaos and confusion. “You know I struggled with depression,” you admitted, your throat tightening, “and I’ve read how that increases the risk of postpartum depression. It’s terrifying.”

As his expression shifted from confusion to understanding, you felt an odd sense of relief. “I don’t want to bring kids into this world and hurt them the way she hurt me. What if I can’t control it? What if I can’t be what they need?”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you felt vulnerable, yet somehow lighter. Nicholas remained quiet, absorbing the weight of your fears, filtering through the chaos you shared.

“Please, say something.” You could hardly bear the silence. The truth of your feelings had surfaced, and now, you needed him to meet you there.

“That makes sense,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wish I’d known sooner. But I’m here, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything. I love you for you, and I want what makes you happy. We can face this together.”

His words reached out to you, digging around the rawness you felt and slowly stitching it back together. The flutter of panic that had threatened to consume you began to ease, though the scars remained, raw but acknowledged.

“I want you to know that you're not destined to repeat any cycle,” he said softly, closing the space between you, his hands reaching for yours. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone in this.”

Tears streamed quietly down your face as you felt an unexpected warmth envelop you. The release of your fears had opened a door, one you’d thought was locked forever. You took a shaky breath, touched by his understanding, and nodded in silent appreciation.

“You’ll be an amazing mother if that’s what you choose, and I know that,” he continued, voice steady, “but I want you to choose it for the right reasons—not because of fear dictating your decisions.”

His touch felt like home, and you leaned into him, finally free to be vulnerable, shedding the layers you had clutched onto for so long. You didn’t realize how much you craved this connection until it enveloped you.

“What a relief,” you murmured against his shoulder, and you felt him relax against you.

As the two of you stood there, bound by shared secrets and the promises of understanding, it became clear that while the future may still remain uncertain, you had taken the first brave step in facing it together. Yet, deep down, you knew the path was still long, unfurling ahead of you like the dimming light of the outside world.

But for now, you were not alone. The chapter was still unwritten, but a flicker of hope danced softly in the shadows.

You sit across from Nicholas, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of your confession still hovering in the air like a thick fog. Tears glimmer in your eyes, but the raw honesty you’ve just shared brings to life an entirely different kind of fear—fear of his reaction. The silence between you feels heavy, as if the world has paused, awaiting his response. You can barely breathe, the anticipation hanging like an unspoken promise.

Nicholas shifts in his seat, his expression unchanging for a moment that feels like an eternity. He looks deeply into your eyes, searching not just for what you’ve voiced, but for all the fears and insecurities that still linger unspoken. His brow furrows as his mind processes the layers of your confession, the vulnerability laid bare between you.

Finally, he exhales softly, the breath escaping him like a gentle wave retreating back into the ocean. “I…I had no idea,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry you felt you had to carry this alone.” His tone is tender, and you can sense the sincerity woven through his words.

You blink, trying to hold back more tears. The empathy in his voice warms your heart, yet guilt creeps in, gnawing at you for the burdens you've placed on him without sharing. You have kept this hidden for so long, convinced that being strong meant being silent. In his gaze, you see not just the hurt, but an earnest desire to understand.

“I wish you had told me sooner,” Nicholas continues, his expression softening as he brushes a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize. “But I understand why it was difficult for you.” There’s a longing in his voice, an ache for connection, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

“I was scared you would leave,” you admit, the words spilling out. “I thought if I could just pretend, maybe it wouldn't become a problem.” You feel exposed, both terrified and relieved as you unearth the truth. “I didn’t want to disappoint you… or lose you.”

Nicholas reaches across the table, his hand finding yours, warm and grounding. He squeezes gently, breaking through the walls of tension that once surrounded you both. “You could never disappoint me. I love you too much for that,” he assures you, his voice calm and steady, a lighthouse guiding you through the stormy sea. “This is a journey we can take together, however long it needs to be.”

His words ebb the tide of your fears, and you watch as a soft resolve spreads across his features. “You’re not alone, and you don’t have to go through this by yourself,” he continues, his grip tightening reassuringly. “We’ll figure this out, step by step, together.”

Your heart swells, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over you, but doubt still lingers like a shadow at the back of your mind. “But what if I can’t overcome this?” you ask, your voice trembling as uncertainty floods in once more. “What if…I’m really not meant to be a mother?”

Nicholas’s gaze intensifies, a fierce protection enveloping his eyes. “That’s not true,” he says firmly. “You’re not your mother. You’re stronger than that, and I know you can break the cycle.” His voice is a balm, soothing the wounds you've carried for so long. “We can learn. We can seek help if you need it. You could even talk to a therapist with me… whatever you need.”

His willingness to tread into those uncharted waters with you ignites a spark of hope, yet your heart weighs heavy as a sense of fragility looms between you. “You really mean that?” you ask, your voice a whisper, almost fearfully fragile.

“Absolutely,” he nods, his tone reassuringly steady. “The love I have for you isn’t conditional on motherhood or marriage. It's about us, our connection, our partnership. And I’m not going anywhere.” He looks deep into your eyes, his resolve unwavering. “We’ll face whatever comes, together.”

The intensity of his promise warms your chest, pouring light into the dark corners of your fear. Nicholas’s breath mingles with yours as the distance that once felt insurmountable begins to fade with every reassuring word. You feel something shift in your heart, like the first thaw of spring after a long winter.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you lean in closer, until your foreheads almost touch. The warmth of his presence envelopes you, easing the tension that has knotted your heart for days. You take in the tangible sense of togetherness, feeling more at ease than you’ve felt in a long time.

But as you search his eyes, uncertainty lingers still—a flicker of concern reflecting back at you. “You know, even if we decide to have kids one day, it will take time for me to be ready—if I ever truly am. I don’t want you to wait for something that may never happen,” you confess, your heart aching with vulnerability.

Nicholas pauses for a moment, the weight of your words settling between you like a soft blanket. “I’d rather wait for you than rush into a decision that doesn’t feel right,” he responds, his voice filled with patience and understanding. The kindness in his eyes tells you that he truly means it, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you begin to believe that maybe you could share this journey of self-discovery together.

As the two of you sit in silence, the noise of the outside world fades into the background. In that stillness, you realize that the road ahead may not be easy, but holding onto each other through it offers a kind of comfort you’ve never truly experienced before. Nicholas’s presence feels like home, and with that thought, you draw a breath deep into your lungs.

The chapter ends with Nicholas pulling you into a comforting embrace. Lost in his warmth, the realization washes over you: although fear still lingers, it no longer feels insurmountable. Together, you can navigate the unknown, one step at a time.

The air felt different between you and Nicholas in the days following your heartfelt confession. The emotional storm that had raged in your hearts for what felt like an eternity was finally beginning to calm, but the residue of tension lingered like a faint, stubborn smell—too subtle to pinpoint, yet always there. You could almost see the invisible threads tethering you two together, slowly being rewoven, one earnest conversation at a time.

Nicholas had become a constant presence beside you, both a pillar of support and a gentle nudge urging you to confront your fears. The warmth of his hand on your shoulder, the soft, understanding glances he tossed your way when you faltered, made you feel safer. The distance had shrunk, but trust was a fragile thing, one that required careful nurturing.

It started on a Monday evening. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue through the small kitchen window and wrapping you both in a soft glow. You were in the midst of organizing the clutter on the counter—a resurrected pile of bills and unwritten grocery lists that had become a silent witness to your distraction over the past few weeks. Nicholas stood nearby, stirring a pot of simple pasta, the unmistakable aroma of simmering garlic wafting through the air.

“Hey,” he called softly, breaking the silence that had become comfortable in its own right. “What do you think about planning a little getaway this weekend? Just you and me. Somewhere quiet.”

You turned toward him, the rhythm of your thoughts disrupted. “A getaway? Like… a vacation?” The notion stirred a note of excitement within you that had long been dormant. The idea of distancing yourselves from the daily grind—of seeking solace together—sparked a flicker of hope.

Nicholas nodded, his expression earnest. “Someplace where we can talk, be open. I think we both need a little time to breathe, to focus on each other.”

Feeling a rare swell of emotion, you put down the bill you had been sorting through. “You really think it would help?” There was a hint of disbelief in your voice, as if you had almost forgotten the two of you could enjoy simple pleasures together amidst the chaos of your emotions.

“Absolutely. Just you and me. And maybe some nature, fresh air, and absolutely no distractions,” he replied, a knowing smile stretching on his face. “We can figure things out together. No pressure.”

You glanced at the pot of pasta simmering away; the steam rising was almost hypnotic. But between each soft putter of the boiling water, you felt the pull of uncertainty—a reminder of the fears that still loomed, like shadows in the background. “What if we focus so much on talking that we end up pushing each other away again?” The doubt slipped out before you could rein it in.

Nicholas sighed softly, placing the wooden spoon down on the counter. He turned to face you fully, allowing the playful banter to fade into the realm of sincerity that had become your new norm. “It’s part of healing, isn’t it? We can’t avoid the tough conversations forever.”

Looking into his eyes, which sparkled not just with love but also with a determination to work through this together, you could see how deeply this mattered to him. Your insecurities waged war inside you, and still, the thought of turning away from that possibility sent a wave of panic crashing through.

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice steadying with resolve. “Let’s do it. A weekend away sounds perfect.” A tentative smile grazed your lips, igniting a glimmer of excitement. Perhaps this was the step you both needed.

As the week rolled by, the anticipation of your weekend getaway began to thaw the lingering frost in your relationship. Each night, you and Nicholas shared small glimpses of normalcy—watching your favorite shows, cooking together, and sometimes, just sitting side by side in silence, the once-painful quiet now a source of comfort.

The more open your conversations became, the more you began to reflect on what had once driven a wedge between you. You realized how easy it had been to retreat into yourself, a learned reaction rooted in your past disappointments. With Nicholas, though, you found safety in honesty—a revelation that came like a dawn after a long, dark night.

On Friday evening, you guys piled into the car with a playful mix of excitement and nervous energy. The road stretched before you like an unwritten story, your destination a small cabin nestled in the woods, just far enough away from bustling city life for you to truly escape. As you drove, Nicholas took your hand, intertwining your fingers—a simple gesture that sent warmth coursing through you.

“Just you and me,” he repeated, glancing at you with a soft smile that spoke volumes. The trees gradually transformed from a blur to individual silhouettes with each passing mile—stories waiting to be told, mysteries to unravel.

When you finally arrived, the cabin stood sturdily against the backdrop of towering pines and a rapidly darkening sky. It felt like a hidden treasure, a safe harbor from the storms that had threatened to destroy everything you held dear. Stepping inside, the scent of cedar enveloped you, mingled with a crackling fire that flickered warmly in the stone fireplace.

As you settled into the space, the initial thrill of the getaway settled into a tender stillness. You sat on the couch, the warmth of the fire playing along the walls as Nicholas draped an arm around you. “Here’s to new beginnings,” he toasted, raising an imaginary glass. Laughter bubbled from your lips—an echo of familiarity, the joy somewhat striking in its discomfort after the recent storm.

The evening unfurled like a blanket, soft, reassuring. Comforted by the gentle sounds of the wilderness outside, you found the courage to engage in small talk that danced around deeper fears. “I’ve been thinking about therapy,” you admitted quietly as you both watched the flames flicker.

“Really? I think that’s a great idea,” Nicholas said, his voice encouraging as he leaned closer. “And I’d love to go with you. I want to be part of your journey in any way I can.”

His words resonated like a soothing lullaby, and for the first time in ages, you didn’t feel the walls closing in. The conversation turned to lighter topics—memories, holiday plans, and silly dreams. And amid the laughter, you realized that rebuilding trust didn’t just stem from big declarations—it thrived in the everyday moments, the tenderness shared in glances and gestures.

As the night deepened, ultimately it became clear: fear and love could coexist, but it was how you navigated the waters between them that defined your journey. Slowly, you began to understand that while you didn’t have all the answers, the effort to communicate was your most significant step forward.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the sprawling beach. Waves lapped softly at the shoreline, their rhythmic cadence soothing the remnants of tension that had once gripped your heart. You walked along the sands, hand in hand with Nicholas, each step feeling lighter than the last. It was a picturesque scene—one that felt vibrant and alive—much like the renewed connection you both shared.

“How perfect is this?” Nicholas broke the silence, glancing at you with a smile that lit up his face. His eyes sparkled with the same warmth as the setting sun, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“It is,” you replied, letting the gentle breeze ruffle your hair. It was moments like this that reminded you how far you’d come. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, mirroring the vast possibilities of the future laid out ahead.

Nicholas paused, pulling you closer as you walked. His presence felt reassuring, grounding. You had spent countless sleepless nights processing your fears, the weight of your mother’s shadow looming large. Yet here you were, finally facing those insecurities, hand in hand with someone who promised to navigate the unknown by your side.

“Can you believe how much has changed since our fight?” Nicholas asked, his tone hinting at disbelief, yet filled with hope.

You could hardly believe it yourself. The storm that had once threatened to capsize your relationship now felt like a distant memory—something you had survived together, anchored in honesty and understanding.

“What we talked about… it’s not gone, but it doesn’t feel as terrifying anymore,” you confessed. “I think facing it head-on made it easier to breathe.”

Nicholas nodded thoughtfully, his fingers tightening around yours. “I’m just glad we’re both willing to talk about it. Can you imagine how different things would be if we didn’t have that conversation?”

You shuddered at the thought. The idea of burying your fears, of risking silence over honesty, felt suffocating. “I know I was scared to share my feelings before,” you began, looking up at him. “But your reaction…it changed everything for me.”

His eyes softened at your words. “I’m always here for you. It’s just a matter of finding the right way to open up. I wanted to be supportive but didn’t know how. I never want you to feel like your fears make you less deserving of love.”

There was a richness to his voice that filled you with warmth. Nicholas had done more than express his love—he had actively opened the door to healing. Knowing that he was here to buoy you through those moments of despair allowed you to cultivate hope.

With the sun now sinking lower, the sky was ablaze with color—blues and violets mixing with the fading gold of the day. You settled down on a nearby blanket laid out earlier, creating a cozy spot to watch the world’s beauty unfold. Nicholas joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, his presence an anchor in a world that often felt chaotic.

“What if we made it a tradition?” he suggested, gazing out at the water, which glistened in the dimming light like thousands of diamonds scattered across the surface. “Coming here, whenever we need a reset. Just you and me.”

You smiled at the thought, imagining countless sunsets shared together, a space ever filled with laughter and honesty. “I love that idea. It’s like a reminder that we can always come back to each other.”

Nicholas turned to face you, his expression earnest. “And we’ll continue to talk, to share. About everything. There’s no shame in discussing our fears. Sometimes they’ll deepen but others, like with kids… it’s no longer just a ‘what-if’ if we approach it together. It’s just a matter of time.”

The thought made your heart race, fluttering with both excitement and lingering fear. “I want that, but it terrifies me still.”

It’s okay to feel that way,” he assured you, his gaze steady. “What’s important is that we’re growing together. We won’t rush anything—but we both know facing that chapter when we’re ready, together, is what counts.”

That sense of mutual understanding allowed a certain relief to wash over you. Navigating the future felt less like a solitary journey through treacherous waters and more like a gentle drift under the stars, together in a small boat.

“I never thought I would feel this way,” you admitted softly. “About children, about us. That I could come to terms with my past while looking forward to what’s ahead, no matter what it looks like.”

Nicholas smiled, his warmth radiating through you as his thumb gently stroked your arm. “You’re not destined to repeat your mother’s mistakes. You’re stronger than you realize. Whatever route we take, I promise to be alongside you. You’ll never be alone in this.”

The final flush of sunlight dipped below the horizon, the twilight wrapping you both in a cocoon of soft shadows. You leaned your head against Nicholas’s shoulder, comforted by his promise and knowing that trust had been rebuilt through vulnerability.

“Let’s make plans,” you said suddenly, a surge of bravery rising within you. “Not just about kids but about us. Let’s talk about where we see our lives heading—the little things we can do to nurture our love.”

Nicholas’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Absolutely. Maybe we can start with that cooking class you mentioned or exploring some new trails for hiking?”

“Or finding a place together!” you proposed, a giddy anticipation bubbling inside.

The possibilities felt endless, a blank canvas primed for new experiences. In that moment, everything shifted—the uncertainty you once feared began to fade, replacing it with eagerness and hope.

As you both made tentative plans for the future, a sense of exhilaration enveloped you. You grasped his hand tighter, feeling the warmth of connection both profound and palpable.

You realized, perhaps for the first time, that the future was not just a timeline filled with uncertainties; it was a landscape you would cultivate together, day by day, moment by moment.

Nicholas pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as the last traces of daylight disappeared. Together, you stared out into the darkening sea, where the stars began to twinkle overhead. No longer on the precipice of fear, you knew deep within that you would face whatever came—together, always.

In that tranquil embrace, you felt a swell of gratitude wash over you. For love. For trust. For new beginnings. As the waves rolled in softly beneath the starlit sky, you held onto hope tightly and realized:

Your journey was only just beginning.

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