#not like that but you know...the family tree is something

[underoossss]

surprise visit 2 – steve harrington

steve harrington x f!reader | no warnings | friends to lovers fluff | 3k

an: it's been a while since I've posted for steve but I wanted to continue where the last blurb left off, I hope you like this!

<<< previous part

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You remind yourself to breathe at least five times while getting ready. It’s not that you’re scared of going out with Steve tonight, no. This is a good kind of anxiety, a thrumming energy that has you daydreaming while you put on some mascara and makes you hold your breath in anticipation. It feels like something new is happening which is why your hearts been in a frenzy all afternoon. Mostly, you just want to see Steve again; there’s no joy like the one you feel with him nearby.

You look at the clock on your nightstand and move to grab a bag and some essentials to bring with you. Money, keys, lipgloss fit neatly inside before you make your way downstairs. It’s 7:25 which means Steve will be here shortly.

As if conjured by your mind, his car pulls into the driveway the moment you get downstairs. He’s quick to run out of his car and jog up the driveway to ring your doorbell. Your stomach somersaults in place as you look down at your clothes —a cute dress styled with a sweater and leggings to fend off the cold. Then with a deep breath you walk to the door and open it to find Steve beaming on the other side.

He looks beautiful and pink cheeked from the cold November air. His hair is perfect like always, so is the smile he gives you when he meets your eyes. The hand he runs through his hair the only clue that he’s feeling the same nerves accelerating your heartbeat.

“Hi Stevie.” You breath out.

“Babe, you look beautiful.” He smiles, pulling you into a big hug. You shiver as the cold air outside clashes with the warmth you can feel through Steve’s jacket. His arms are around your shoulders, his green bomber jacket smells as wonderfully as he does.

“ Thank you.”  You murmur as you step back;  feeling  shy under his observant gaze but glowing from within at his compliment. “I like this jacket on you,”  You grin loving the way his eyes soften

“I’ll wear it more then.” He winks before offering his hand to you. “Come on, let’s get you out of the cold.”

Your hands tingle where you touch and you can’t help but smile widely at the way Steve seems to feel it too. You separate at the passenger door which he opens before joining you inside. “It’s a little early but I wanted to avoid the line at the concession stand.”

“I don’t mind that it’s early.” You glance over at him. “You can tell me what you did while I was away, I doubt it was as uneventful as FV.”

“Mustache dude wasn’t eventful for you?” He jokes, making you roll your eyes.

“Sure, Stevie.” You concede, then shove at his shoulder lightly. “Come on.”

“Okay, I tell you one thing and you tell me something from your family reunion.”

“Deal.” You offer him your hand and steve takes it with his free one; then  shakes it once but doesn’t let go. “You start.”

“Okay…” Steve draws out the word, recalling something to tell you. “Oh, Dustin tried to teach me that dungeons game; didn’t work out.” There’s a smile on his voice that brings forth one of your own.

“What why?” you turn slightly on your seat, curious to know what happened.

“Blame Henderson. He didn’t explain the rules well enough then complained I wasn’t playing right.”

The outrage in his voice makes you laugh, a full belly laugh that has you leaning back on your sit. Steve’s hand tightens its hold on yours, like he’s happy he made you laugh. “Learning a new game is always complicated, I regret it the moment they explain the rules.”

Steve laughs. “Oh I regretted it alright. Come on, now you tell me something.”

“Alright, I… almost broke my arm?” You say tentatively, flinching at the memory. “I was climbing a tree and–”

“Babe, why were you even climbing a tree.” Steve’s eyebrows are knitted together in concern. “Did you get it checked?”

“Stevie, I was just so bored!” You groan, staring at the car’s ceiling for a minute. “My older cousins started climbing this tree in the backyard and I tried to, but I lost my footing.”

“And you fell on your arm?” Steve asks, worry pouring out in every word.

“Yeah, but I got it checked out by this doctor my aunt knows and he says it’s okay.” You reassure him, turning sideways to face him again. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Honey.” Steve sighs, his eyes glancing at you. You meet them with as much reassurance that you can offer.

“I’m okay.” You whisper, smiling at the furrow of his eyebrows. And because you can help it you hold both of his hands in yours. “Don’t worry. Now you say something else.”

Steve shakes his head, kissing your hand before nodding. “I spilled Keith’s coffee the other day at work.”

“Did he kill you?” You ask with a frown knowing Steve’s manager isn’t very fond of him.

“Sadly, yes.” He nods, keeping a serious face for a few seconds before you laugh and he starts to laugh with you. “You missed the funeral.”

You shake your head, reeling back your emotions so they’re not so easily read on your face but unable to keep it from coating your words. “I missed you, Steve.”

Out the corner of your eye, you see the drive-in theater in the distance when Steve looks at you and smiles; a soft thing you realize is just for you. “I missed you too.”

There are already many cars at the drive-in when you make your way into the lot. There are fairy lights hanging from the trees, a concession stand, the big white screen and a marquee showing the romcom double feature. Dirty Dancing and The Princess Bride.

“Stevie.” You turn to him as he drives to a secluded spot. “I love these movies!”

“Babe, I told you they were playing your favourites.” His smile is beaming, pleased with his idea of inviting you before he gets out of the car to open the door for you. You shiver as you step out but Steve’s quick to throw his arm around your shoulder. His warmth is immediate, and you don’t feel as cold while walking to the concessions stand. “Don’t tell me you didn’t believe me.”

“I did but I didn’t know they were from my top three!” You look up at him, feeling happier than you can put into words. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head, opening his mouth to say something until the lady at the counter calls both of you to order. Like he said, there are barely any people buying popcorn yet. “What do you want, babe?”

“Popcorn and soda are fine.” You say after looking at the menu and smelling the buttery popcorn in the air. “You?”

“The same.” Steve nods, then turns to order. He looks at you again as the lady, Jade as her nametag reads, gets to work filling a popcorn bucket. He sees the way you shiver because of the weather and wraps his arms around your waist. Your chest is pressed flushed to his, and you have to look up to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me for the movies, you know I’d do anything for you.”

Cold suddenly forgotten, you feel a rush of warmth flood you from head to toe. It makes you melt against Steve’s touch and focus only on him. The warm lighting from the concession stand making his eyes sparkle beautifully and you become extremely aware of how close his face is to yours. Then his hand brushes gently against your cheek –just like yours had done earlier in the day– and you’re not sure how this is all so easy between the two of you. Easy to be so close, easy to get lost in his eyes instead of looking away, easy to lean closer because his gaze drops to your lips.

It's also easy to forget you have an audience.

Until Jade clears her throat loudly, looking impatient for the two of you to pay and get back to the car. It makes you laugh, not feeling embarrassed as Steve kisses your temple instead and lets go of you to reach for his wallet. Once he insists on paying and leaves Jade a tip inside the tip jar, he takes your hand with a smile and leads the two of you back to his car. You don’t know what to say, you’d been so close to kissing him you’re not sure you can speak. So heart hammering inside your chest you lean your cheek on his shoulder, silently communicating your affection and hoping Steve knows what you mean.

He's careful with the popcorn bucket as he opens the door for you again before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. A few moments later, warm air begins to flow out of the vents and you make sure to warm your hands in front of them.

“That better?” Steve smiles at you as he sets down the popcorn on the dashboard and makes sure it stays put.

You nod silently. Nerves take over you again but you push past them. “Stevie?”

His answering hum tells you to go on, so you do. “Is this a date?”

Steve’s lips part in a beautiful smile, its charm tuned down by bashfulness. It makes your heartbeat settle into a steady pace as you smile back. “It is.”

“So what happened back there…”

“What? Me wanting to kiss you?” His voice is lower now, the simple mentioning of the kiss changing the air between you. When you nod, he reaches for your hand. “I’ve been…”

You squeeze his hand when he stops himself, encouraging him to talk to you because your brain has turn into a loop of his voice saying: Me wanting to kiss you.

“I’m crazy about you.” He shakes his head, eyes turning soft as they never leave yours. “And I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, but I didn’t know if I should.”

“What changed?” You ask, a whisper between the two of you.

“The way you looked at me changed.” Steve smiles, moving his hand to hold your cheek. “It was the same way I look at you.”

You look away in embarrassment, but he brings your gaze back to his with a gentle touch. “Four days away from you and I forgot how to hide that I’m in love with you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Steve shakes his head beaming before his eyes flick down to your mouth. “Because now I can stop hiding it too.”

His words fill your stomach with a million butterflies, and your fingers tingle in anticipation. Steve leans closer to you, until your breath mingles between you, until the thrumming of your heart is so loud, he’s sure to notice. He hesitates, meeting your eyes in a silent question.

You smile, heartbeat calming down. This is Steve, your best friend, the one you love and as it turns out, loves you back. “You can kiss me.” Your voice is a quiet whisper but it’s enough for Steve to close the distance between you and allow your lips to meet for the first time.

The first brush of lips is so gentle it makes a pleasant shiver go down your spine, a shaky breath leaving you. Steve feels it and his thumb caresses your cheek just as softly before he moves his hand to your jaw as he kisses you again. This time though, he presses against your lips a little harder than before, angling your faces to kiss you better and open you up to him. He licks your bottom lip, humming in appreciation when a noise gets caught in the back of your throat and one of your hands goes to his hair.

And just like earlier, it’s easy. Easy for him to make you melt against him, to feel his emotions pouring into each caress of his mouth on yours. Easy for Steve to know exactly how to kiss you, scrape his teeth against your lips and smile against the corner of your mouth when you do. It’s better than you could’ve ever wished for; new but still familiar. It leaves you dizzy but happier than you’ve ever been.

You’re so lost in each other you don’t realize the first movie has started to play until you part and see that your faces are both illuminated by the big screen in the front of the lot. It brings a laugh out of you and soon enough Steve is laughing with you. You’ve seen Dirty Dancing enough times to know it only just started playing, so you turn to Steve.

“We haven’t missed much.” You inform him, beaming at the way his lips look very much kissed.

Steve shakes his head, like he can’t believe what you’re saying. For a moment you think it’s about the movie but soon realize he’s just feeling the same bubbly disbelief you’re feeling too. “You’re so beautiful.” He says, voice soft and eyes adoring.

You smile, feeling shy but too joyful to look away from him. Not knowing what to say and buzzing with electricity from his words and kisses you press your forehead against his. “Steve.”

He only hums, eyes closed and nose brushing yours in a silent question. “I know you said not to thank you but thank you.”

He smiles, blinking his eyes open and kissing the corner of your mouth. “I love you, I’m glad it was a good idea.”

“You can never go wrong with a romcom Stevie.”

“More like with your crush on Patrick Swayze.” Steve rolls his eyes, nothing but love shining through them. He motions to the screen as if to prove his point.

You shake your head, not holding back the smile that inevitably comes to your face. You’re on a date, he loves you, he kissed you. By the look on Steve’s face, he’s thinking the same thing. “And my crush on you.”

“Babe.” He Steve groans, looking at the ceiling. “You can’t make me want to kiss you again, you’ll miss the movie.”

“I think you can give me one more.” You lean close, loving the way Steve gravitates towards you. “They haven’t danced yet.”

Steve grins and the second kiss is even better than the first one.  

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I hope you liked this! reblogs are always appreciated

masterlist

[theveil-and-thepath]

Mini PAC n°1 - What will happen until the end of the week?

Pile 1 - Pile 2

Pile 3 - Pile 4

You can pick more than one! Just follow your heart!

This is my first time fully using Lenormand cards, let's see how it goes.

*This is a source of entertainment, your destiny is in your hands.*

Pile 1

Wip, star, bouquet, mice, crossroad. Dog, fox, snake. Heart, birds, bear. Birds, garden, snake.

You'll suddenly accomplish something that you greatly desire, but in order for this to happen you'll need to defend your position and status and not let other people bring you down.

This thing you accomplish will have the double effect of solving some of your problems and concerns, and it might make some discontent people who steal your energy leave your life.

You'll interact with several people who are your seniors or more experienced than you. Only one has your true interest at heart, but all three are smart and will teach you new things about how to behave.

You may hear positive gossip about you. Some will say you have more money or are more important than you see yourself.

You may feel, or hear the promise of, the support of a powerful friend.

Keep an eye open in the places you go to this week. You can have fun at a party or event, but some will envy how you look.

Your spiritual protection practices are working, you'll see how you're more resitant to evil eye now.

Pile 2

Anchor, bear, book, heart, cross. Wip, letter, mountain. Coffin, mountain, tower. Snake, wip, ring.

Some of you will meet the love of your life, your counterpart. Maybe it's a new friend. Regardless, it's a fated encounter with someone who's as or more mature than you, stable in life, very smart/went to a good school, this person knows when to shut up and when to talk; try not to get a wrong first impression of them because theyll like you more than they'll convey. Your guides are planning your encounter.

You may start to study something new that you've been meaning to for a while.You may have an insight or receive a tarot reading (can be on youtube) that will help explain your recent love problems.

If you think of an ex this week, it's so that you see it all in a new light and move on, or to remind you how to avoid the same undesired result.

You may receive an email postponing an event or listing extra requirements you need to meet to accomplish a goal of yours.

You need to rest and sleep well before a big day.

Beware of double faced people offering you things too good to be true, perhaps they want you close to them so they can ruin your life more easily.

Be smart against those who are cunning and trying to get rid of you because they see you as competition.

Pile 3

Man, book, rider, lily, woman. Fox, anchor, child. Dog, bear, tree. Tower, heart, anchor.

A relationship you already have may progress this week and this person may reveal positive feelings that they've kept hidden. You may feel that one of your connections originated in past lives.

A good week for school and learning.

To start a new venture, you need to be smart not work hard. You may take a significant step to solidify a new project of yours.

You have great friends and family. This week you'll express your gratitude to the universe for having them. You may even receive help from old friends.

Old relationships become stronger.

This week you'll see how much support you have around you, you'll also be proud of how far you've come and how solid it's the life you've built.

Pile 4

Letter,sun, heart,bouquet, scythe. Tree, mice, wip. Anchor, sun,bouquet. Key, woman,clover.

What a bright and blessed week of reaping your rewards. Someone will compliment your work, give you amazing feedback, may say they want to keep in touch for future endeavors or ask for your number so they can call you on a date.

All the good things you desire? This week you can be so close to them it's just up to you to pick it up and take it for your life.

You receive the yes, the answer you wanted to get.

Your crush will text you, or your partner may ask you out.

If you're in a relationship, texting can turn into sexting, or you'll receive a kiss or offer for a sexy night out of a sudden.

You'll get rid of energy vampires or bad habits that have been draining your energy and slowing you down.

You'll cut off junk food or reject a specific food or drink for the sake of your health.

You may go to the doctor or start a health treatment.

This week feels so good, that some of you will get married or become engaged. May start dating too.

You'll feel your spirit guides close and showing you good things about your future.

You reach the jackpot. Somehow you'll know what you'll have to do so you level up big time.

You may receive the opportunity of a lifetime. Big thing!!! Receive it.

You're so smart and capable that people can't help but admire you.

This week you'll know that you can do it!

[claudiafrankie]

Soul Purpose/Why Are You Here?

Disclaimer: Tarot is not an evidence-based practice. You are in charge of making you're own decisions.

Pile 1: Abundance

Hey pile 1! You picked the Abundance oracle card. Your tarot cards are the 2 of Swords, 3 of Swords, and the King of Cups.

As I was shuffling I was focusing on the imagery of your oracle card. I strongly got the feeling of being kind of put on the spot. You are having to make quick decisions. It's like the shape in the center of the card has so much going on around it. It's chaotic! The figures filling the picture look like sea creatures to me - sea urchins, those glowy jellyfish that live in the bottom of the ocean, sand dollars... All floating around in the current but in this big, condensed cluster. It's kinda dark in there but there's some sun coming through the current above.

Under sea kelp beds, that's the environment. You're here:

You're not quite sure what all you're going to come across. Cute fish... shark... friendly anthropomorphic sea otter wearing a news cap and suspenders... multiple sharks...

It's a little creepy/ominous but more importantly very beautiful and serene and otherworldly.

You're swimming through this kelp garden and you don't know what you're going to find, and all kinds of different things are going to pop out at you, you're going to have a lot of options in a lot of different areas in your life. You are not going to be someone who is stationary for very long. I think if you are stagnant and still (something you may struggle with) you aren't happy. You are bored more easily than others and have a deep craving for knowledge and novelty, absorbing every last drop of life that you can.

I think in human design, generator people's tell-tale sign for being out of alignment is frustration, they thrive off of having choices to pick from. This helps them feel inspired and like they are getting more out of life. Maybe you are a generator in human design, I think that is the most common type. You are a person of the people, you are salt of the earth, you care deeply for humanity and always pull yourself back to center when you catch yourself straying. You don't let things get to your head as much as you could.

It also looks like there's a chromosome in the center shape on the card. You are here unraveling karma from your past lives and for your ancestors. You are probably dealing with karma that you didn't create personally but exists in your bloodline. The bottom of the deck is the ten of swords - there are mostly sword cards here, with the king of cups standing out as the only water card. This is very Ardra energy in vedic astrology - strong, turbulent, powerful and stormy emotions. Ardra's deity is Rudra, a form of Shiva - who rules over storms. You are clearing out ooooold emotions that have been rotting in your family tree for years. You are finally processing some long-neglected baggage and releasing it.

The combination of the progression of the two to the three of swords, ending with the King of Cups suggests to me that you are going to become a true master of your inner world. Your lens you look at the world through will reach a level of clarity previously unknown to you and likely to your family. You are in tune with the environment in an electric way, sensing the humming and buzzing and shifts in the pitch and tone of the current washing around you. You let it all pass through you, understanding the futility in pretending to be unaffected. You let it pass through you, and you let it be there, and you don't let it shake you. For this reason others will cling to you - the RWS King of Cups sits on a throne carved from solid stone. It is anchored in tossing waves with a grey sky suggesting storms ahead. He looks calmly onward. People will view you as a shock-absorber, someone who can weather catastrophe and guide others through difficulty. I think this is where you are headed, but maybe aren't there quite yet.

Other people might get away (or at least seem to) with pushing aside their pain and never really dealing with it. You aren't one of these people. Your path to fulfillment is through making difficult decisions, sometimes ones where there really isn't a good option. Some of these decisions could affect other people as well. I see this as your heart existing in your head. So much compassion in tandem with a razor-sharp mind. Highly analytical, meticulous, maybe even fussy, combined with glowing warmth that can only be achieved by facing hardship.

There could be a significant male figure in your life who guides you, and you may not recognize the significance of his impact on your life until he's no longer in it. This might be someone you only know for a short period of time before parting ways. Maybe at the time of meeting them it's too overwhelming for you and it doesn't end so well, but the more you digest the relationship over time and think about what you learned from them, the deeper you understand the purity of this person, and the reasons why he navigates the world the way that he does. I think, going through hardship yourself and choosing to remain soft and gentle, you recognize this as a lesson you learned from this person. It's brave to continue believing in people. Also, it's possible to do it without being naive.

This pile knows the true meaning of unfairness. You know what it means to be made to feel selfish for taking care of yourself. You know what it means to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, to be going through immense difficulty behind the scenes and still getting through the days treating people with kindness. Yeah you just see and feel the pain in others, you sense their stories even if it's just a stranger. You probably walk away from getting coffee and wondering how the barista is handling their breakup even though that was your first encounter with them.

Pile 2: Phenomenon

So right off the bat, Chappel Roan's song Feminomenon might be of significance lol. Maybe that song you was on repeat for you this summer, or you are LGBTQ+, or in some way don't fit in with the norm. Chappel Roan is famous for her drag outfits and crazy makeup and big hair - you could be into style, fashion, hair/makeup. Or maybe you are wanting to get more into these things but don't know how? Maybe you are struggling with expressing yourself right now, and this is a recurring struggle you deal with. If you are struggling with it, I think it's because it's actually something you're really good at - I think you have a natural eye for fashion and art, it's just that you need to reconnect with this part of yourself, and that re connection process will help you get deeper and better with and at it.

Next to your Phenomenon oracle card I pulled the Nine of Cups, Ace of Cups, and the Page of Cups. So all water, you are definitely here to learn how to express your feelings. I think you often feel like sharing how you feel makes you self-centered or you're "making it all about you," even though it ironically helps your relationships because you connect with people better when you're emotionally honest with them.

I think currently you're at a pretty comfortable spot in life. You've worked really hard and have been very much in your earth energy - taking care of your body, keeping a clean home, focusing on consistency at work and in your self-care and discipline. You've worked really hard to get here, and you're finally learning how to give yourself credit for it.

However, I think it still feels like something is missing for you. Looking at your cards (from right to left), the Page of Cups is offering the Ace of Cups to the Nine of Cups. The cup you're looking for, the special sauce that you are missing right now, is connected with your inner child. I think while working on improving your earth energy has been wildly beneficial for you (maybe you're successful for your age, or just really good at keeping your shit together and running a sane life for yourself) you have lost a little bit of touch with your inner softy.

I think you're probably cringing at that too, a little bit lol. Like "man I don't have time to cry and play in my coloring book I gotta pack lunch for work tomorrow" hahahaha. But honestly, if someone has that mindset or thought process about playfulness and fun, they need that energy the most!! In your list of things to do over the weekend that keep your life tidy and chugging along, you are being called to add something wholesome and fun in there.

It's easy to get in the swing of daily living and going through the motions, and it's not wrong at all to pride yourself on your ability to keep a tidy ship. BUT lol that doesn't mean you have to lose out on some harmless chaos and unstructured fun times. You don't let yourself let your hair down as much as you could be. Obviously don't go out and go crazy and do something dangerous lol and if you're not ready to go clubbing every weekend you can start small! Maybe there's a bakery near you that you haven't tried with kick ass muffins, go try that place out. If you're really particular about cleaning your place, try cleaning it in a more 'chill' way if that makes sense lol. Try out letting go of intensity and a "I just need to get this done" attitude. Maybe that means the floors won't be as spotless after mopping than they usually are but hey, they're still clean right?

Yeah I think what's really coming through for this pile is letting going of perfection and holding yourself to unrealistic standards, so much of your power lies in fun, and not just fun but also facilitating fun. Lifting up the people around you. With the Ace of Cups in the middle of your spread, you guys are here to out pour to those around you. People are enchanted by you and think you live a charmed life, they are envious of your innocence, your lack of care for/about status and authority. It's refreshing (i mean, these are all cups cards lol) on multiple levels! You might not notice how your inner child lifts people up, and how just one conversation you have with someone leaves them feeling nourished after you walk away.

Pile 3: Vulnerability

Hey pile 3 welcome!

You guys picked the vulnerability oracle card and your tarot cards are the four of pentacles, the ace of wands, and the magician. This is the description for your oracle card:

"As the flower opens and offers itself, the butterfly says "yes." Opening and exposing ourselves to new possibility comes with risk, but also holds the potential for great reward. Be willing to share your gifts with the world, allowing the acceptance and recognition vulnerability can bring."

This one feels pretty damn straightforward haha, you guys are here to build literally any life that you want to. I am looking and these cards as a progression - the man in the four of pentacles seizes the ace of wands and becomes the magician. Literally he lets go of these four measly pentacles, grabs the magic wand, and become the magician he was always meant to become.

You guys have sooooo much power within you. Your manifesting skills are truly off the chart and it seems like right now you're not really sure what to do with this gift. I think you could be feeling overwhelmed by all the possibilities. You are probably the kind of person who has a lot of different interests, can feign commonality with just about anyone because you're smart and absorb knowledge like a sponge - so you have tidbits of information on a huge range of topics. Someone will bring up in conversation that their grandparents berry farm is suffering because of a disease or certain kind of pest in the area and you're like "oh yeah I've heard that those types of flies are invasive and it's like becoming a widespread problem" lmao.

You could be a gemini mars or north node - the tarot card associated with mars in gemini is the nine of swords - literally analysis paralysis is your guys' biggest obstacle. You have everything in your head, but you struggle to bring your creations to life. I wouldn't be surprised if you guys are some flavor of neurodivergent, maybe ADHD or on the autism spectrum. You are ahead of the times.

I think this pile is similar to pile one because I'm getting an ancestral element for you guys. I think the women in your family have packed on years of frustration because they were made to believe that they just can't build for themselves. The women in your family line have sat with huge creative potential but the fear they carried prevented them from being able to actually use it to birth their ideas into the real world. They saw their fathers and brothers and husbands go out into the world with so much confidence, maybe with less skill or more boring ideas, and create success for themselves. I think you should know that it was not all sunshine and roses for the men in your family - there was such a huge amount of pressure to achieve and earn and perform that they didn't even really get a chance to really choose what they wanted to do. They just knew that it was expected of them to do well and provide for their families.

But the women, ah there is so much rage honestly. You have the chance in this lifetime to channel not only your own creativity but that of your mother, her mother, her sisters, etc. I think when you create it's a full experience for you. Like it's not that you don't phone it in, it's that you can't. You can't make something and not be fully in it. I think this might be part of your blockage as well - you tell yourself that if something you make isn't perfect or exactly as you envisioned it in your head, then it was a waste of time. It wasn't. I think if you allow yourself to be messy and be a little more process-oriented, you can really get the ball rolling for yourself. And honestly probably process a lot of those packed on emotions from your family.

You are someone who can get quick results in things if you really put your mind to something. Right now it seems like your task is to sift through your daydreams, then after that you can start taking some little steps towards making something happen. Even if it's something tiny you do to get closer to a goal, it's still really important for you guys especially to really celebrate that. And really mean it when you celebrate! If you guys work a job you aren't crazy about to pay the bills like so many of us do, maybe you have been drained or just don't see how you have the time to make one of your interests something more than just an idea in your head.

This is going to be a process of re-parenting yourself in a way. If you belittle your accomplishments and progress towards the things you really want to bring into the world, they will slowly shrivel up. You wouldn't make fun of a kid for trying something new and not being amazing at it, so you can't do that with yourself. You deserve support and love on your journey, not only that but you need it! You have the power to create the space for yourself to thrive in, and then thrive in it! You guys are honestly like buzzing with electricity. I think sometimes you have so many ideas that you get confused and tired just thinking about all of them, and maybe you act out in frustration but your not even sure why your upset. There are parts of yourself that have not been given enough attention, and once you start letting them out in the light they can show you what they can help you do in this life.

I think too that getting more in touch with your sexuality will help with this process, getting more in your body and letting yourself feel sexy and sensual, really being in the moment with your body and then carrying that energy with you in your endeavors. Yeah let yourself be a horndog lol it will help you reach your goals

Best of luck pile 3, not that I think you need it hahaha

[l2vedive]

DOUBLE TAKE w. joshua hong

wedding au ; kinda meeting the family trope + fluff and crack (730)

pairing: hong jisoo (joshua) x fem!reader

featuring: kim mingyu as your cousin

note: thought about this on a whim during a car ride to a wedding anniversary party i attended. enjoy !! please rb and like <3

you’re standing in a sea of pastel-dressed guests, the soft hum of chatter and clinking glasses filling the garden. it’s a beautiful evening—peach-coloured skies, fairy lights strung across trees, and the distant strains of a string quartet playing something vaguely familiar. you spot mingyu, your cousin and the groom of the lovely event, laughing with a few friends near the buffet table. he’s always been the golden boy of the family—charming, successful, and annoyingly smug about it.

and that’s when you see him.

joshua.

you’ve never personally met him before, only knowing about him during the wedding rehearsals as a former wedding singer about three years ago from one of the bride's band of bridesmaids. you thought to yourself about how with a face like that, how could anyone still be single. there’s no denial in that.

there was something about the way he carried himself while balancing a plate of hors d'oeuvres with an easy smile. he’s tall, lean, with a soft kind of confidence that doesn’t need to shout to be noticed. joshua looks up, and for a brief moment, your eyes meet.

your mind races. mingyu had spent the last week teasing you about being single, nudging you about how everyone in the family was settling down except you. “what’s taking so long? don’t you have anyone?” he’d asked with that insufferable grin.

and just like that, an idea blooms. a ridiculous one at that. a crazy idea that makes you hope would work despite not thinking about the logistics of it.

you make your way across the crowd, weaving through clusters of guests, until you’re standing right next to him. “hi,” you say, flashing your most disarming smile.

he glances at you, startled but polite. “uh, hi?”

“listen,” you lower your voice, leaning in slightly as you draw out the plan. “i know this is going to sound strange, but could you pretend to be my boyfriend? just for a moment. it’s complicated.”

joshua's brows shoot up in surprise, and you can see the gears turning in his head. “pretend ?” he echoes. “why?”

“i’ll explain later,” you promise, grabbing his arm before he can protest. “please, just trust me.”

before he can respond, you’re pulling him towards mingyu who is chatting up a few of the bride's own guests.

“gyu!” you call out in a tune, your voice bright and cheerful.

your cousin turns, grinning as always. “(your name), there you are!” he goes in for a hug before his eyes flicker to joshua, curiosity sparking. “and who’s this?”

you squeeze joshua’s arm lightly, as if urging him to play along. “this,” you announce with a casual confidence you don’t feel, “is joshua. my boyfriend .”

mingyu’s grin falters for a split second before he recovers. “boyfriend?” he repeats, a touch of disbelief colouring his tone.

“yes, boyfriend,” you reply smoothly, shooting mingyu a pointed look as if daring him to question you further.

joshua, to his credit, doesn’t miss a beat. the man next to you extends a hand, his expression friendly but calm. “nice to meet you, man. (your name) has told me a lot about you.”

mingyu shakes his hand, still looking slightly suspicious. “funny, she’s never mentioned you before.”

“oh, you know how she is,” joshua says with a laugh, playing along effortlessly. “always keeps me as her little secret.” you stand up a little bit straighter when you realise his hand has moved to rest on the small of your back.

you can’t help but feel a pang of gratitude for how natural he’s making this look.

but then mingyu’s eyes narrow, a sly grin creeping onto his face. “you must be serious if she’s introducing you now. what’s next? a wedding?”

you freeze, scrambling to think of an answer but joshua speaks up before you do. he chuckles, pulling you closer. “funny you should mention that,” he says, his tone light and teasing, “we’re actually engaged.”

“what ?! ” you and mingyu exclaim in unison, though for very different reasons.

you shoot joshua a wide-eyed look, but he just shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “you dragged me into this,” he whispers under his breath, lips barely moving, “might as well commit.”

mingyu looks utterly delighted. “engaged? well, this is news! congratulations, you two. shall i announce this during the toast? ooh, the family would be so glad to—,”

you cut him off before he could continue and eventually inform the rest of the guests about your endeavours. "everything's fine, thank you!"

“we’ll let you get back to hosting,” joshua says smoothly, steering you away from mingyu before the other man can protest.

once you’re safely out of earshot, you whirl around to face him. ��engaged? really ? ”

joshua grins, entirely unapologetic. “what? you needed help, and it seemed like the logical next step.”

you stare at him, torn between annoyance and reluctant admiration. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, you’re still holding my arm,” he points out, his smile softening.

“so, what’s the plan now, fiancée? ”

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[thelightsandtheroses]

one: florida!!!!

Call It What You Want | Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: Daisy never expected to move to Florida but recovering from burnout in the sunshine state seems a good enough plan. Years after the death of her estranged half-brother, Tom, she finds herself agreeing to move in with Frankie Morales, Tom’s former army colleague and friend. Falling for her roommate, who is definitely keeping secrets about your brother’s death, may not be the best way to ensure a fresh start, or is it actually what they both needed all along? Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog MDNI, mentions of previous canon death and grief, references to corporate burnout Word Count: 3.7k Notes: Please note I am not from Florida, or even the US, so there’s a degree of creative license here, What I know about firefighting probably comes from 9-1-1, other firefighter shows, or google so please don’t think this is gong to be an accurate depiction of the Florida FD for Frankie. It’s fic, babes, let’s let me be a little self-indulgent. This is a rewrite of my first fic which felt too fast, too angsty and not the story I wanted to tell for a concept I really loved. It’s seen some considerable changes since then while retaining several themes, but I am so excited to share this and particularly this version of Frankie who has been rotting my brain for months and months 🔥 🔥🫠

Series Masterlist | Next. | A03

Palm trees, beaches and viral memes. That’s what I’ve always associated with Florida. It never struck me as a potential place I would make my home. I thought I might vacation there one day perhaps; some time in a distant future when I had a real grown-up life and family and we would go to the theme parks, buy overpriced merchandise and fried food and take cheesy photos before flying or driving home.

It’s funny how things work out though, isn’t it?

I pull into the apartment block with trepidation.

This is the fourteenth apartment I’ve viewed this week. Fourteen. I thought the market back in Chicago was bad but this is a whole new hellscape, or maybe it was easier because I knew more people back then. College roommates turn into post-college roommates and your circle is fully formed. It means you have people when you need to find a new place, there’s a whisper network, friends of friends.

I don’t have that anymore.

I want it though. I miss it.

I think I miss it.

The advert says that this listing is for a single room and the apartment is occupied by a group of young professional women. It’s the best option I’ve come across yet in my browsing of online postings which has taken me through several levels of Dante’s inferno. Facebook is just one above Craigslist in the hierarchy of the internet hellscapes I’ve seen recently.  One guy asked for my shoe size and asked if I routinely wore high heels before I could view the apartment. Safe to say, that one went off the list extremely quickly. It was a shame though - that listing had a double room and balcony, but I think I can see why it’s been listed for over sixty days now.

I haven’t had a roommate since college and this whole process has been a soul-crushing exercise on my already fragile self esteem. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

I take a deep breath. I’ve got this. I will find a room so I can move out of Molly’s and do something, anything with my life. Anything that’s not just existing in this strange purgatory I’ve found myself in. I’m potentially placing too much importance on the apartment here, but it’s a symbol, an omen.

It’s a fresh start. A signal to the universe that I’m here, that I’m doing something.

I feel like everything else I’m hoping and dreaming of can’t even start unless I have an apartment, and I can’t afford my own apartment and start a business so I need to find a roommate.

Maybe this is finally the one.

“It was so bad, Benny,” I say, taking a glug of lukewarm beer. “It was like being in high school over again, but worse. Infinitely worse!”

“Worse?” Benny tilts his head as he asks the question, something that only heightens my association between him and golden retrievers.

“Yes, because I’m not sixteen with a promise it’ll get better when I ‘find my people’ in college. This sucks. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn’t. Maybe I should have stayed …” I trail off awkwardly.

“You were thinking that Florida is the perfect place to start over, which it is, Daisy,” he replies confidently.

Benny and his brother, Will, have played a considerable part in my move here. They served with my half-brother Tom.

Tom died more than five years ago - I don’t really know much about how it happened, Tom and I weren’t particularly close. There was an age difference, I sometimes felt he didn’t want me as a sister. I was only a reminder of his own parents’ relationship breakdown after all. I wish I could say we had that sibling bond but we didn’t. It’s clear to me his real siblings were the men in his team - he was their brother.

After his death though, Will kept in touch with me. I wondered if he thought he needed to fill a gap from Tom, if there was a sense of responsibility there. Tom never called me though except for birthdays and Christmas. I haven’t told Will that though.

It’s been nice feeling like I have a big brother. The irony isn’t lost on me that I feel this the most once my actual big brother is dead.

Will encouraged me to move down here, as did Molly, Tom’s ex-wife. They said I needed a fresh start and maybe they’re right.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like me. I’m not even sure what that feels like now, who I’m supposed to be and who I am really.

Florida seems a good place for reinvention though, for something new. I’m closer to the beach, to weekends spent with my toes scrunched in the sand as I sip coffee and read books. Days spent with Benny and Will

“Hey Benny,” A voice calls as I hear the front door open.

“We’re in here.“

“You remember Frankie, right?” Benny asks casually. “Tom woulda called him Catfish?”

“Uh, sure.” I don’t but I won’t admit to that. I remember the name vaguely, but that’s all. Tom wasn’t big on the details of his life with me.

“You probably saw him at the wake last,” Benny adds.

Even if it hadn’t been four years ago since I last saw him, all I can remember of Tom’s funeral is a procession of strangers and the continual vibration of my work phone as I stood in a strange graveyard. That whole day was a stark reminder of the distance between us, that my own blood was a ghost to me even when he was alive. It bought me Molly, Tess and Will though.

Frankie walks in. He’s a little older than Benny but younger than Tom was. He’s all dark eyes and curls peeking out through a battered baseball cap; softly tanned skin and that smile … that smile is something. If he could bottle that up and sell it, I’m pretty sure he’d find a captive market.

“Frankie, you remember Daisy, right? She’s moved here,” Benny says. “She’s starting a coffee van.”

“Uh - yeah.” Frankie has no clue who I am, but his efforts to conceal that are admirable. “Now you mention it, Will might have said something about that. You’re uh, staying with Molly for now, right? You were in Boston before?” I nod, wondering what Will has exactly said to Frankie about my move. “A coffee van?”

“Eventually,” I add nervously, “It’s a whole process. So, I’m actually just temping for now while I get things sorted.” I have no idea why I’ve told him that, why I still want to introduce myself based on my career, on my outward accomplishments. I’m almost surprised I haven't tried to find an old business card in my pocket or referred him to my LinkedIn profile where it neatly lists all my employable skills and experience.

 Daisy is highly skilled in project management, board engagement, data analysis  and most of all completely falling apart all of the time, but she makes a mean slide deck. Plus, guess what, she’s open to work!

“Oh, right, cool.”

“Frankie works for the fire department. He’s a firefighter pilot now,” Benny says. “Out here making me look bad.”

“Aw, I keep telling you don’t need my job to do that, Benny.”

Benny laughs heartily and throws a cushion at Frankie who catches it with ease and a raised eyebrow.

“Well, that’s definitely cooler than paperwork and admin.”

“Not really,” Frankie says, “I mean, it’s not really cool if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” you say with a groan, “that might be the most dad joke I’ve heard.”

“It’s a classic though,” he replies lightly. “You got a soda, Benny?”

“Fridge. Wait, I just had a brilliant idea,” Benny suddenly interjects with a grin. “I mean, I’m a genius.”

“Oh yeah?” Frankie asks, one eyebrow quirking up. “About soda?”

“No, no, no. You need a roommate, right?”

“Yes?” Frankie replies slowly with the seasoned reluctance of someone who knows exactly what Benny’s brilliant ideas usually result in.

“Daze needs a room, you need a solid roommate, voila!” Benny makes a complicated hand gesture and smiles widely.

It seems too simple, too obvious but despite the terrible apartment earlier, my heart races as I wonder what if Benny’s onto something.

“Benny, I’m sure Daisy would -”

“How soon is it available?” I ask.

“Uh, immediately. My last roommate moved in with his boyfriend, which is great for him, but I’ve been struggling to find anyone suitable for it since then.”

“Suitable?” Immediately flashbacks of the weird Craigslist ads come back to me, please don’t say Frankie is going to say something odd. “What do you mean, suitable?” I really hope Frankie isn’t actually the weird shoe size guy from Craigslist.

“I have a kid who stays with me regularly. I need someone I can trust, someone safe to be around him, and someone who’s not going to be a …”

“Frankie wanted to mandate a background check,” Benny interrupts, before raising his hands at Frankie’s expression. “I said I got it! Perhaps, if you interrogated people less though ….”

“I’m not gonna apologise for prioritising my kid.”

“So, do I need a background check to apply then?”

“Nah,” Benny says, “you’re Tom’s sister, right Frankie?”

There’s a comforting weight to his words. The conviction in his voice, the simple answer that takes it for granted that maybe I’m not one of them, but I’m adjacent at least. It feels unfamiliar. I’ve never been Tom’s sister, not to Tom at least.

I feel as though I’m wearing someone else’s skin, another identity, and it’s alien but comforting. It’s an identity I never knew I could wear. One I never even knew was an option.

“You’re actually considering this then?” Frankie asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah. Benny’s heard all about my nightmare of an apartment hunt so far… unless, I mean. If you don’t want to then that’s fine.”

“Alright Tom’s sister,” Frankie begins with a soft smile.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy. “I’ll send you the info. let me know whether you’re still interested then. No pressure.” His voice is honey smooth, low and there’s something else.

His eyes.

They’re kind. Soulful even.

“I’m interested,” I say without thinking. “I’m definitely interested.”

Of course life isn’t as simple as just being interested in the apartment and one magically falling into my hands. Frankie texts me the information which is sadly towards the top end of my truly pitiful budget but includes a double room, furnishings and the apartment has a balcony which in itself is a big reason enough to say yes. I instantly conjure up a romantic image of me sipping from a steaming mug of coffee in the mornings, watching the sunrise.

It’s farcical. I hate the sunrise, or at least being up at that time. I’m not a morning person at the best of times. 

Frankie says there’s a beach view from the balcony though … if you squint, lean one arm and twist at a very precise angle. It’s something he has advised he doesn’t recommend without exceptional health insurance though so that’s definitely off the table for now. He mentioned it’s close enough that the landlord said it was a coastal view but it’s clearly not really.

Texting him feels so easy - there’s a lightness to the conversation, even as we talk about something as serious as becoming roommates. It’s why I’ve agreed to this - the next step and the one that is now filling me with dread.

The coffee shop we decided to meet at is halfway between his place and Molly’s. I haven’t been here before but I mentally take notes of the roast, of the general ambience. The brownies look amazing - the perfect combination of a fudgy middles and the solid crackly top that immediately calls to me.

It’s a neutral space though, one where we can finally make a decision of am I becoming Frankie’s roommate or not.

I think I want to.

I really can’t take another week of Craigslist -especially after watching that true crime documentary last night.

I twist the empty sugar packet into a knot, only looking up as the doorbell chimes. I see Frankie immediately.

He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark hair curling out from underneath and the Florida FD hoodie he’s wearing looks particularly well worn, comfortable. I can almost imagine how it smells.

No. No. This is a roommate negotiation.

“Hey,” Frankie says as I stand up to greet him. I immediately panic - is this a hug situation, that feels too familiar, but a handshake feels like an awkward callback to my corporate days. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“Oh, you already ordered?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah, sorry, I got here a bit early. Overestimated the traffic. I haven’t been here long.” Frankie looks at my almost empty mug of coffee, cocking one eyebrow.

“No worries. Do you mind if I grab a drink though? Want another?”

“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

He walks over to the counter and I sit down and watch him carefully. This is a test really, an opportunity to try and work out his personality further. Does he talk to the barista? Is he cold or insufferable? Is he rude? These are all qualities I should be able quickly establish in just a few moments. Mum always taught me to notice these things on a date, to tease out those basics in the early days. Not that it’s foolproof. Not always at least.

Frankie seems. pleasant though, laughing with the barista but there’s almost a shyness about him. I don’t get it. From how Benny described him - a pilot, a firefighter pilot no less, I would have expected him to be as extroverted as Benny.

Frankie’s a surprise though. There’s a quietness to him, a slow and careful evaluation in each glance, in how he takes in the cafe around us as he sits opposite me. He’s assessing everything too and it occurs to me that as much as I’ve set this meeting up to work out if I can live with him, he’s doing the exact same thing.

The people pleaser in me instantly calls to attention, ready to perform and be perfect, be liked. To succeed. Automatically I straighten my posture, try and remember my very best table manners. I prepare to perform.

“What’s your poison?” I ask, which is a phrase I never use and an immediate sign I need to shift out of performance mode.

“Just an Americano.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t approve?”

“no, I guess it’s fine. I mean, I would personally recommend a pour-over and filter coffee than a watered down espresso. Something like a V60 or a -”

“I see what Benny meant about the coffee truck.”

“I’m not judging!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, only judging a tiny bit. Mostly I’m rambling. I’m just - I’ve never got the watered down espresso thing.”

“It’s got two extra shots in if that helps,” he confides with a smirk, “I was on shift yesterday.”

“Oh, we could have arranged this for later -”

“It’s fine. The shift wasn’t too bad, even got a few hours sleep!” Frankie empties sugar into his coffee and smiles up at me.

“How did you end up in the FD then? I don’t – I don’t remember it from before.”

Frankie pauses, twisting the empty sugar packet in his hands. The silence holds just long enough I worry I need to change the conversation before he speaks. “A couple of years ago I needed a change. It’s been good, much better than commercial helicopter flights for rich people.”

“Making a difference?”

“Trying to.” A ghost passes over his eyes. I immediately realise the link - Tom. His death. Was that the trigger for Frankie joining the fire department?

“Anyway, the apartment -” Frankie starts, reaching for his phone, “I took some new photos this morning.”

His wallpaper is him with a small boy. His son. I take in the wide toothy smile on his photo, the bright shine in his eyes and the same features I can see in Frankie, accompanied by a head full of brown curls.

“Felix,” Frankie says, a soft smile on his face.

“He looks like you.”

“Poor kid.”

“No, I mean - uh, how old is he?”

“Four and a half. He stays with me on alternate weekends, if I’m off shift, and sometimes in the week if his mom’s working late or something. A lot of it depends on my work patterns but that’s the general rule of thumb.” He wrings his hands together and I wonder what the story is there.

I have limited experience with children to say the least.

I’ve reached that point where half of my friends are parents, sharing photo after photo on their social media and speaking a whole new language. In contrast, the rest of my friends appear still mentally stuck in their early twenties party mindset. I’ve never been sure where I fit in with that; I’m definitely not a huge partier, but that sort of responsibility and commitment has filled me with anxiety. Maybe it’s my choice in friendships, in love.

I try not to think about it too much, the friendships left to dust over, the dates I was too scared to go on. I threw myself into my work instead because it felt safer somehow. I defined myself by my career and made that the only metric that matter.  I poured all of myself into the corporate world for all those years and it turns out I was naive. So naive. I actually thought they cared about me.

It’s hilarious in hindsight. Now I’m in Florida without even a leaving card to commend the efforts I put in. I’m a barely remembered spectre in the place I once thought I was indispensable in. A shameful secret swept under the rug. A never repeated name.

I can’t go back to that world again.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, concern creasing his brow. Great, five minutes into talking about becoming roommates and he already clearly thinks I’m disturbed.

“I’m fine, sorry, must have drifted away for a second.”

“Happens to us all,” he says lightly. “So, is that a problem?” Frankie folds his arms and I get the clear sense that he’s annoyed, that I’ve missed an important cue somewhere.

“Is what a problem?” I ask.

“Felix staying at the apartment, because sorry but it’s a non-negotiable”

“No, not at all. No, I just … I drifted away, like I said.”

“Right.”

Great, this is the first apartment that feels reasonable, and Frankie seems like a nice person and I’m wrecking it. Somehow at best, I’m managing to come across as scatty and someone who doesn’t listen, and a child hater at worst.

I need to get out of Molly’s. I need to make Florida work for me.

“I do that sometimes,” I say quietly, “It doesn’t mean I’m not listening, or anything. It’s just … it’s just something that happens. I don’t have a problem at all with Felix or …. it’s your home, Frankie.”

He pauses. “If you take the room, it’s yours too though.”

“And I get why you’re being careful about who takes the room because of that. Look, I can’t promise I won’t secretly judge your coffee choices, or leave coffee grounds everywhere, or watch really terrible TV from time to time, but I …”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Frankie smiles. “So, you’re still interested in the room then? You really wanna do this? I thought Benny might be putting you up to this and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to live with some random guy.”

“Benny keeps reminding me you’re not though, are you?”

Frankie shrugs and looks away, something flashing over his eyes briefly that feels a little haunted.

Since moving back to Florida, I’ve realised that, at least for Benny and Will, Tom’s death is still an open wound even now. It makes me feel worse sometimes because Will was so kind to me after the funeral, so keen to ensure I knew they’d be there if I needed them, that I could rely on them in Tom’s absence and I didn’t know how to say I’d never been able to rely on Tom. My brother spent his life a half-stranger to me and I feel like a fraud pretending we were real siblings.  In five and a half years, the Millers and my brother’s ex-wife have been more of a family to me than Tom ever was.

“It’s okay,” Frankie says, “I’m sure you’ve got far better roommate options.”

“I actually really don’t. One guy asked for foot pics, and these women kind of judged me because I wasn’t corporate enough anymore, so I don’t have a wealth of better options.”

Frankie frowns slightly.

“It’s a brutal market. And your place looks��� nice and you seem like you wouldn’t ask for -”

“Some guy really asked for that?”

“I blocked him, it’s fine. It’s the internet, Frankie.”

“Sometimes I fucking hate that thing.”

“Yeah, but I like being able to shop in my pyjamas.”

Frankie laughs. “Okay, fair point. So, Daisy, do you want the room? ‘Cause if you do, it’s yours.”

My heart races. The room is mine? It’s not just that I’ll be escaping from feeling like a perennial thorn in Molly’s life, but it’s a beginning. Finally I have the chance to make something here, to be Daisy 2.0 and leave the corporate burnt out husk of my old self in the rearview mirror.

“You don’t have some weird neighbour who plays the bagpipes at 3am?”

“No, I don’t have one of those. It’s a normal building.”

“Good, just wanted to check. Okay then, yeah, I think I do. Want the room that is.”

“Great. I’ll get the agreement emailed over to you and we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be good”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

I think this might be the handshake part.

Tag List

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[edgeray]

hello ray! This is my first time requesting! ( I have read ur request rules too since I don't wanna be rude) I have read ur dragon arlecchino x dragon hunter reader and it was absolutely beautiful!. But I have come to request another version of that (I hope u don't mind) but in this version reader isn't a dragon hunter but a dragon trainer (or like trains dragon) u can make any scenario of this if u want!

Ps- I have read (almost) everything u have wrote Nd all of those were masterpieces.

Btw can my anon emoji be 🦋?. I'm currently obsessed with how beautiful butterflies are just like ur work!.

Dragons are Stupid.

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hello 🦋 anon! I know you sent this request a longgg time ago and I truly apologize for only just getting to this one. Thank you for your kind words <33. Also I really appreciate you reading my rules! Man, I miss writing these requests.  I won't be describing Arlecchino because I'm lazy and I also imagine that she looks the same in Dragon Hunter Mother, except she doesn't have three pairs of wings.

Content warnings / info - Dragon! Arlecchino, Dragon Trainor! Reader(?), could be seen as platonic bc no human form

In your quaint village, you were only twenty two when you became the first one to willingly leave–you wanted to explore beyond what your cozy town offered, despite all of the villagers’ protests. They told you that there were too many dangers that existed outside of the forest, but there was a buzzing inside of you that told you your purpose existed outside of the settlement. Reluctantly, you took off, but not without carrying a bit of something from every person in town. Your mother and father personally made you an entire portable cooking set, your aunt and uncle having crafted their most durable leather backpack yet, and from other families, packed homemade meals or tools. By the time you were ready to head out, you practically had enough food to feed six families. 

You were five days into your journey, simply traversing the thick forest and taking in all the sights. Your peaceful journey takes a turn when you notice in the distance trees that were partially or almost completely destroyed, their trunks broken entirely and falling onto the ground. The trees that are still standing are blackened and lacking their leaves–all of the vegetation around them are gone. 

Perhaps it was curiosity that drew you in or something else, but in any case, against your better reasoning, you decided to venture in. It didn't take long until you first encountered her. 

She was large, easily four times the height and many times the length of the largest creature you've seen beforehand (a bear, you later find out was the name of the animal). You had never seen anything like her before. Her sleeping form was so still, you would have mistaken her for a large boulder if not for the rumbling that came from her. If she was this massive while lying down, how much taller would she be if she was standing up. 

At that moment, every thought in your head told you to run away. Something that large would have no problem seriously harming or even killing you, even without malicious intentions. She could accidentally step on you, or one flick of her tail, and it would send you flying. Best not to wake up the beast. Unfortunately, or fortunately, you were too curious to scurry off, and circle around the sleeping dragon to examine its features. With one miscalculated step, your foot stepped onto a branch, emitting a loud snap that made you freeze in place. 

Instantaneously, the beast rose, a loud rumbling shaking the ground. Tumbling back onto the ground, all you could do was watch the towering creature approach you, their every step reverberating through the earth. Mouth agape and your expression aghast, there was some kind of pressure on your entire body that willed you still. The thumping organ in your chest resounded throughout your eardrums, deafening everything around you. 

Scarlet crossed pupils ensnared your gaze, and you were engulfed in those dark abysses. The massive being crept nearer and nearer until it stood just over you. With a deep huff, she maneuvered her head, sniffing at your backpack. A quick realization came to you as you recalled the food in your bag and hastily slid off your backpack straps to access the contents. The first thing food your hand grasped was a bagged loaf of bread, which you wrenched out and offered to her with an outstretched hand. Your hand couldn't stop trembling and you've closed your eyes, deciding against all your rationale to trust this strange creature. 

The bread was plucked gingerly by the creature's teeth and an audible gulp was heard. A coarse, solid texture pressed against your palm and when you opened your eyes, before you was a sight you couldn't imagine. The reptilian's snout was pressed against your hand, a soft resonance erupting from its throat–almost like a cat. In awe, you moved your hand across the snout and its scales, tracing along the indents with careful observation of the beast.

And at that moment, you think you've never seen a more beautiful creature.

Since then, Arlecchino (you had named her, and she begrudgingly accepted) had stuck with you, even when you ran out of packed food from your backpack. She was injured at the time, but at the first feeding you hadn't realized–only having seen the hole that pierced through one of her wings. You could only imagine that another dragon had caused that wound, like it had sunk its teeth in that area. The terrain you found Arlecchino in seemed to have been the battleground for that fight. 

Arlecchino could barely catch any food with her impaired wings, and it's likely she would have starved to die if she hadn't met you. Even then, it took her months for her wing to fully heal so that she could fly. It also didn't help that you were a novice adventurer–you barely knew how to hunt, fish, or gather any food in the wild. You had tried your best to provide her all that you could, and it was enough for her to live off on, despite sleeping for most of the day to preserve what little energy she got. Thankfully, the months had passed relatively quickly, Arlecchino providing you with no end of entertainment. 

“How do you always get tangled in the fishing nets? If you break another one, you can go catch fish on your own!” You yelled at the dragon as Arlecchino snarked back with an eyeroll, sweeping you off your feet with her tail. You fell into the creeks with a cry and cold water seeped into your clothes. You trudge your way back towards her, before kicking the water towards her. She blocks effortlessly with her wing, before fluttering her wing to flick back the water on you. 

“Archons, you're a terrible dragon!” You screamed with no real emotions behind it. With a quick tail swipe, your face was met with another blast of frigid water. 

You huffed, knowing that it was impossible to get back your revenge. You helped Arlecchino untangle her feet from the net, having Arlecchino hold one end of the net with her mouth. Traversing across the other side of the creek with the net, you waited for a steady school of fish to come your way. Not too long later, the two of you are able to heave out onto the bank a dozen or so fish. Arlecchino then goes to collect some firewood while you take out your knife to prepare your fish for consumption. 

As you're gutting the fish, all too smugly does Arlecchino dump the assortment of twigs and branches at your feet, accompanied with a good amount of saliva. You proceed to go into the creek for some peace to wash your feet while the dragon lights a fire on the branches. When you return, you shoot the reptilian a glare before piking your fish on a stick and setting it above the fire. 

The dragon lays beside the fire and you sit against her. You brushed your hand against her neck. “You're getting cranky, aren't you?” 

Arlecchino snorted. You assume that was a yes. “We can go pack up tomorrow and be out of here. If you save some fish, we could probably trade it to get you some beef, yeah?” 

The dragon doesn't react much, but from the swaying of her tail, the idea seems appealing to her. You chuckle. 

Vibrant red flickers across your face as dusk approaches. Your fish finishes cooking, the skin crispy and the flesh delicate. Your dinner becomes just that, paired with some bread and a few berries that you picked. Unsurprisingly, Arlecchino finishes four fish before you've reached fullness. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warn as the expecting, deadpan look comes across the dragon's feature. “You can't finish my berries. And I'll give you the rest of my fish soon enough.” 

Arlecchino snarls and thumps her feet against the earth. The ground shakes and you couldn't be bothered. Typical tantrum.

You rip out a chunk of the cooked fish and offer it to her, outstretching your hand towards her mouth. As she unlatches her jaw, you cruelly pull away, popping the piece into your mouth with a wicked smile. Before you can start cackling, she lunges and wrenches your fish from your hand, stick and all. You gape at her as she chews and swallows, spitting out the stick that you used to hold the meat. 

“You–!”

Safe to say that humans can't wrestle dragons. You're knocked on your ass before you even knew you were. To rub it in, Arlecchino lets out a satisfied huff of smoke from her nostrils as you lay defeated underneath her tail. 

Stupid, stupid dragon. 

More A/N: Is it bad 😓? Yes. Cut me some slack, it's my first request in a while. 😭Anyways, I missed you guys. I'm on thanksgiving break, so I'm hoping to be able to get all the things I've wanted to write here, including some requests. I'll be working on requests all week (hopefully). I'll also be working on a lot of other ideas and I'm constantly thinking of new ones and it's so hard to focus on one. my main priority is my halloween event fic (alien! arlecchino) and because it's me, it's a beefy fic. again, I'll try to post more content, but most of them are gonna be tidbits/blurbs than full length fics. Requests will be paused until I finish about most of my requests (hopefully I finish all by/during winter break).

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 4.07

The more you got to know the people who saved you, the more you understood why they saved you. Abraham explained that he and Rosita are on a mission to get their companion doctor Eugene Porter to Washington, DC, safely because Eugene knew how to stop the virus and Abraham wanted you to join them. What they were doing was courageous, but you needed to find your family.

You look over at Glenn who was carrying Jace and nod appreciatively. You, him, and Tara were taking turns holding him to try and keep the strain off your shoulder.

The atmosphere is awkward as you walk in almost complete silence. Abraham and Glenn got into a physical fight because Abraham made a comment saying Maggie was most likely already dead, and the noise from the fight attracted a horde of walkers. While five of you fought, the walkers off Eugene tried to help, but the accident ended up shooting the army rank several times, causing it to stop working, which meant the only option now was to travel by foot.

Abraham slows his pace to walk beside you; he nods his head in the direction of Glenn. “He’s a persistent son of a bitch, I get while you’re following him.”

“I’m not following him just to help find Maggie. Our people were more than just someone to survive with; we are a family. My brother, nephew, and Daryl are still out there, along with the rest of our friends. Me and Glenn can’t stop looking for them.”

“Do you really think you’ll find them?”

You don’t answer his question. The last few days have been hectic, and you couldn’t allow yourself to think that you won’t ever find them.

Abraham changes the subject. “I didn’t have you down as a hunter, but damn those squirrels you caught last night went down a treat. Your father taught you to hunt?”

A small smile pulls on your lips. You found hunting extremely difficult morally, but when Daryl had his arms wrapped around you to show you what to do... It was the safest you’ve felt in a king town. “No, Daryl taught me to hunt skin and gut animals, so you can thank him when we find him. I used to be vegan before the world went to shit.”

He laughs, “Well, those days are long now.”

Abraham was right; you ate whatever was possible now.

You make polite small talk and learn more about the mission until Tara starts laughing. “I can’t believe I still have this,” she pulls a wallet out of her jacket pocket. She chuckles to herself while opening it up, “Three dollars and an expired voucher for grocery shopping.”

“Never know, it could go up on a museum wall one day.”

Her smile fades when she pulls a Polaroid photo out of one of the slips. Tara goes to say something, but her breathing becomes shaky. “I never saw her after... I kept thinking she might have ended up like my sister, or she’s alone and hurt, or…”

Glenn gives her a sympathetic look. “Who is she?”

“My girlfriend Alisha... I think I saw her body at the prison, but the more I think about it, the more I’m unsure if it was her.”

You understood how awful not knowing where everyone was felt. With the attention of somehow trying to comfort her, you walk closer but come to an abrupt halt when you see the picture she’s holding. You feel warm, a painful knot forming in your stomach. Tara’s girlfriend was the woman who put Hershel on his knees; she was the woman you shot and killed at the prison.

—

When night falls, you take turns keeping watch, and right now it was currently your turn. Abraham picked a spot that was surrounded by thick trees and bushes, keeping you out of view of anyone who may walk by the train tracks. You had bundled Jace up in a T-shirt and your jacket to keep him warm. Your back was pressed against a tree so you could securely place him between your legs.

You let out a deep sigh. Rosita, Eugene, and Abraham had all fallen asleep while Tara and Glenn spoke quietly. Finding the picture earlier had really upset the brunette, and you felt so guilty that she was continuing to torture herself by imagining all the different things that could have happened to Alisha. If it was someone you cared about, you’d want to know the truth.

“Tara, I need to tell you something. I... I, Alisha, she's gone. She’s dead.”

The look in her eyes, she knew. She knew it was you before you'd even told her. “How would you know that?”

“I killed her.”

Tara blinks away her tears, then shoots you a death glare. “You killed my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t know who she was, not until I saw the photo earlier.”

“So you just killed someone and didn’t think about them again?” Tara scoffs; she shakes her head and looks away from you. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Hershel was a good man. He was a stranger who saved my nephew's life. He let us into his home. Your girlfriend dragged Hershel, an old man with one fucking leg, from the back of a car and forced him to kneel on the ground to be slaughtered by that sociopath in front of his own daughters!” Your vision becomes blurry with tears. “When I came face to face with her, I didn’t think twice about killing her, and no, I didn’t think about her again, not until I knew who she was. I’ve only told you so that you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life wondering what happened to her.”

She takes a moment to process everything you’ve just said. “If you could, would you have done things differently?”

“I found my baby alive next to the body of a boy who had been shot in the chest. Some asshole who attacked us in our own home put a goddamn bullet in a child and then continued to attack my people.” Using the sleeve of your jacket, you wipe at your eyes and nose. “I don’t know who killed him, but I don’t regret doing everything I could to stop my son from being one of those kids.”

Silence falls over the camp; nobody dares say anything. Tara walks off, and Glenn follows her. Feeling eyes on you, you turn your head to see Rosita, Abraham, and Eugene staring at you.

—

The next morning, everyone remains quiet as a mouse as you continue to follow the trail tracks. The only real noise was Jace babbling while you tried to get him to say mom or mommy. You decided it was best if you hanged back from the others, just close enough that you wouldn’t fall behind.

Glenn looks and observes you for a moment before slowing his pace to match yours. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Jace.”

“Sure.”

“Did Hershel ever check his ears out?”

“He did," you didn’t like thinking about it. “Hershel thought Jace’s eardrums got damaged from being exposed to so many gunshots and explosions when he was first born, but it’s hard to know for sure. He thinks his right side is more damaged than the left.”

Glenn’s brows pull together with confusion. “How’s that possible?”

“Maybe a gun went off on his right side... I should have done more to—“

“Don’t,” Glenn cuts you off. “Everything you do is for him.”

—

You can’t help but smile proudly at Jace; hearing him say mom filled your heart with so much warmth. You kiss his cheeks multiple times and say, “I’m so proud of you, little man.”

Daryl and Rick would be so proud.

You look from Jace to see what was in front of you, and you gasp in surprise. There was a wooden post with a map pinned to it, leading the way to a location called Terminus.

“Holy shit,” the map had a message written on mud left on it. “Glenn, Glenn. It’s a message from Maggie. Her, Bob and Sasha are alive.”

“Oh my god!” He comes up to look for himself and notices you are crying; he kisses you on the cheek. “If they are alive, then so will the rest of our people.”

Tears of happiness brim in your eyes; all you needed to do now was make it to Terminus.

[ragsy]

The Hole to Nowhere in Your Kitchen Floor (2nd Edition)

This morning, you find a hole.

It's not huge-- about the size of your fist, punched straight through the kitchen's yellowed vinyl tile and underlying subfloor. It's dark inside this hole; a dense, viscous black that suppresses any chance of seeing the bottom. Loose crumbs from the floor, nudged into the gap, make no sound when they drop. Especially curious, given that you're pretty sure there should be another apartment below you.

You add it to your growing pile of concerns: Dishes. Food. Rent. Medical bills. The hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor.

You kick a rug over the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor and finish getting dressed. In a flurry of shoelaces, jangling keys, and slammed car doors, it is forgotten.

But later, at work, your mind wanders to the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. Was it there yesterday? Was it something you did wrong? Did it happen on its own? Will it get bigger? Are you going to get billed for this?

You had only given it a cursory glance. Maybe you were mistaken. It's probably not even a hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor, it's just a a hole to your downstairs neighbor's kitchen ceiling. This wouldn't be the first time they've had a reason to complain about you. It probably won't be the last.

Suddenly it's six in the evening. You barely remember the drive home.

Inside your apartment, you kick off your shoes and toe away the rug over the hole to nowhere in the kitchen floor. You stare into it. You sit next to it. You trace it with your finger. It could almost be a natural, like an animal burrow or a knothole in a tree. You think about measuring it, telling people about it, you want to drop small objects down its throat. What would happen? Doesn't everyone want to know? You want to know.

Your cat winds around your ankles. She touches her paws to the edges of the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor; You swat her away and conceal it with the rug again. Somehow, it's after midnight. Your stomach churns. You don't sleep. You resolve that tomorrow, you'll tell your landlord about the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor.

In the morning, you find the rug heaped in a rough pile at the opposite end of the room. The hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor lies naked. Is it bigger?

A warm, humid breeze wafts out of the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. You text your landlord. Mold problem, you suggest.

The vinyl flooring curls away from the edges of the cavity in tiny waves. The hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor sits stoic, silent, and empty. You want it gone. You want to be part of it. Is it bigger? You could probably fit your head inside it now. You should eat. A firm headbutt from the cat reminds you that she should eat too.

You pour her some kibble. You resume your place by the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. Maybe it's hungry too?

You blink. That's stupid. It's just a hole. You haul yourself to your feet.

You search in vain for the rug, and with an unceremonious clunk drop a baking sheet over the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor.

You go to work.

You come home.

You go to bed.

Once again, you don't sleep.

At dawn, you find yourself crouched at the precipice. Is it bigger? The emptiness inside it smells just as warm and wet as it did yesterday. You could definitely shimmy your aching body in there now.

You nudge one of your shoes over the edge. You watch as the darkness swallows it whole. You wait for the echoing impact that will never come. For good measure, you prod the other shoe in after it. Hate to waste one of a pair.

You drop more objects into the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor: a spatula, a lamp, a family-size bottle of ibuprofen, canned goods from your pantry. You imagine the rush they would feel as they fall. You're beyond embarrassment of your envy of that can of peas.

It's two in the morning, and you drag yourself to bed. Has your stomach ever hurt this badly? Did the cat even bother you for her dinner?

You don't sleep. Your sheets are saturated with cold sweat. A rumble echoes through your apartment.

As objects around your room vibrate themselves from their shelves, a chorus of crashes and shatters and sweet farewells accompany the thrumming.

In the morning, the hole to nowhere in the kitchen floor is waiting for you. You pour a dustpan full of broken figurines into its mouth. Breakfast.

You pull up a chair and sit in its company. Does anyone else have a hole to nowhere in their kitchen floor? You perish the thought. You never get to feel special.

Later, your fatigue draws you from your seat and onto the ground. Later still, you lie, face against the sticky vinyl, next to the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. It's only a little wider than you are tall. You could slide inside it with little effort. You still can't see its bottom. Maybe it's rude to be looking for one. You close your eyes.

The rumbling, like a monstrous purr, soothes your body. Occasionally, the ground quakes. Somewhere in your apartment, a framed picture crashes from the wall.

The day passes. Crawling to bed, you collapse just inside your bedroom door. For once, you're blessed with sleep.

When you stir, the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor meets you at the threshold of your bedroom; its yawning gullet now having consumed your fridge, your stove, your pots and pans. Water gushes from severed plumbing, jetting out gallon after gallon that glitters in the morning sun before dropping silently into the void below. Your tongue is dry on your cracked lips.

Now, you seat yourself on the edge of the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. You dangle your feet into darkness. You can just barely make out the tips of your toes; everything beyond them falls away from view. You note the set of small, frantic claw scratches that are trenched into the floor along the edge. She's fine, you tell yourself. There's no bottom, after all.

A knock at the door, and your attention returns in a snap. Your muscles and joints are sore. How many hours have you been sitting there for? When did the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor swallow your dinner table? Just as well, you hadn't needed it recently anyway.

There's that knock again. You wait for it to go away. The ground before your door crumbles, and you watch as the doormat slides helplessly into the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor.

You hear the rattle of a key entering the lock, and then the clack of the deadbolt. When the door swings open, your landlord is silhouetted against the hall lights outside your apartment. What is he yelling about? Why is he here, again? He should just leave. Can't he see you're busy?

The floor beneath you tremors. You lock eyes with him. He's saying something to you. He's reaching for you. Your lips move, but your words are lost to your ears. The color drains from your landlord's face, and he takes a step backward in fear. His footing slips. Arms flailing, key ring launched from his grip: From the edge of the crumbling floor, he topples headfirst into the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. His scream is cut short as he is engulfed. It's like he was never here.

You release your held breath. Lucky bastard. Maybe your cat will bother him for kibble as they fall together.

Alone again, you lie down next to the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. Your body trembles and your limbs are leaden. The ground convulses violently beneath you. Across the chasm, your living room wall has just fallen in.

You fill your chest with the warm, humid air. You extend a hand toward the ink-black brink of nothing.

Meanwhile, our couch is consumed, followed by your TV. Your coffee table tips over the edge after them.

You inch your body toward the precipice of the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. The rolling growl chatters your teeth. Your heart skips several beats.

Your front door collapses. Long tongues of hallway carpet dangle into the opening, soon joined by toppling chunks of drywall.

You close your eyes.

You slide yourself forward, past its jagged incisors, down, down, into its embrace, into nothing, into everything.

If there's a bottom, there's nothing left of you when you find it.

[ghostofskywalker]

Nature Heals

this fic is part of the @galactic-gift-gathering (which is still accepting wish lists for anyone who's interested!) and the prompt of "nature heals" came from @blackseafoam! i could not get this idea out of my head all day while i was at work, i just needed to get home and write it. hope you enjoy <3

ao3 link || words: 952 || tech & omega

summary: On one misty morning, Omega and Tech share their apprehensions for the future before the rest of the Batch awake.

The collapse of Kamino had affected her more than she expected, Omega thought as she sat atop a large rock and stared out at the lush forest on one side and the grassy plains on the other. A small creek snaked across the land, the Marauder parked a few steps from its bank. She didn’t know the name of this planet or even where in the galaxy it was located, but the atmosphere had something of a calming effect after what she and her brothers had just endured. 

The the forest at dawn was a different kind of silence, one Omega appreciated as she watched the morning light peek through the trees and reflect off the durasteel of the ship’s hull.Despite the fact that they could have celebrated their escape from the crumbling Tipoca City under less-than favorable odds, it felt like no one aboard had spoken to each other in multiple rotations. 

For the amount of time she had spent dreaming of an escape, hoping to find family and adventure a long was from the watery planet she had spent most of her life on, there was an emptiness in her heart as she remembered the sight of its ruin. It certainly didn’t help that her family was not yet complete. She didn’t know Crosshair like the others did, but that didn’t mean she didn’t share in the desire to bring him home, to free him from the Empire’s grasp and the chip’s influence. The thoughts raced through her mind, and she couldn’t even begin to fathom how the rest of the squad felt right now. 

The sound of footsteps on the ramp of the ship turned Omega’s attention, and she smiled kindly at Tech as he walked in her direction. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and she watched as he hoisted himself up to sit next to her on the stone. “Good morning,” he said, pulling two ration bars from a pocket in his clothes and offering the other to her. 

She accepted the ration bar without much fanfare, though it wasn’t exactly something she looked forward to eating every day. “Morning,” she said softly, unable to conjure up the sunny tone she usually used when talking to her brothers. 

“Are you injured?” Tech asked, clearly able to pick up on the melancholy in her voice. 

Omega shook her head. “No, just tired.”

“There is still quite some time in the day before I expect the others to wake,” Tech responded. “You are more than welcome to try and sleep a little more.” 

“It’s not that kind of tired.” 

Tech paused before speaking again. “I understand,” he said. 

Looking up at him, Omega could see a kind expression on his face. “You do?” 

“This lifestyle is not ideal for anyone,” he responded. “I think that looking over our shoulders with every step has taken a toll on all of us.”

As she finished the ration bar, Omega let her head fall onto Tech’s shoulder. “I wish it wasn’t like this.” 

“Me too Omega, me too.” 

The silence that descended over the two was a comfortable one, both appreciative of the other’s presence but without the need to constantly speak. She had only known Tech and the rest of the Bad Batch for a small amount of time, and already she could tell that an invisible weight had come to rest on their shoulders. Though it was noticeable in different ways among all of the ship’s residents, some managed to hide their growing worries more than others. Hunter’s eyes in particular were a little bit more tired than they had been when she first spoke to him in that Kamino hallway, a fatigue that she didn’t think any amount of sleep would be able to reverse. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to settle somewhere?” Omega asked, looking across the plains, where she knew a village stood in about a half day’s travel. Despite the thirst for adventure she had grown up with in Nala Se’s lab, her desires had been tempered with the danger she and her new family found themselves in from the moment they escaped with her the very first time.

“I really hope so,” Tech responded. His voice was softer and less sure of himself than it usually sounded, and if he was trying to hide any of his trepidation about the future, he wasn’t doing a very good job. 

The rain began before Omega could respond, with one of the first droplets falling from the sky hitting her nose. Tech noticed it as well, and she pulled away from him as the two of them tilted their heads up towards the sky. Unlike on Kamino, where the air held a perpetual chill no matter the weather, this rain was warm to the touch, and it fell at a gentler pace than all the others Omega had experienced. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Tech asked, looking shocked when Omega shook her head. 

“Not really.” 

Her brother nodded as Omega once again rested her head on his shoulder, and she took a breath as the rain started to come down a little harder, admiring the patterns the impact of each droplet made in the already rushing creek. 

Her hair would soon be wet and she would likely have to change her clothes, but right now the allure of the misty woodland was too strong to trade for the utilitarian grey of the ship’s interior. For the briefest of moments, as Omega sat her with her brother, the feeling of the water on her face melted away any lingering stress about what they had been through. 

Whatever the future brought, they would face it together.

[ramblingautisticman]

A Gift In The Making

Chapter 1 - Decorating In November

Summary : Logan has a problem. What the fuck does he get Wade for Christmas?

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.)

(Okay, so I'm pretty excited about this little fic! Hopefully everyone enjoys it! Not sure when the next chapter will be out, but I know the last one will be out on Christmas Day! Anyway, enjoy, and link to the A03 version in is in the title!)

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

Logan had left Wade in bed at roughly 9am, getting up to let Mary Puppins out to pee and by the time he got back, Logan was met with Wade decorating the apartment for Christmas. In November.

They had moved in a week ago- had all their belongings still in boxes- but apparently he had found the Christmas stuff.

Music was playing softly in the background as Wade stood in the corner of the living room, hanging ornaments on a tall pine tree (that he really hoped was plastic), humming along to the whatever festive song was playing.

"You uh...you know it's not even December yet, right princess?" He asked as he stepped inside and closed the door, placing Mary down on the floor, watching as she ran over to Wade's feet.

"Peanut! Your back! And yes, I know it isn’t December yet, but who doesn't love the festive spirit? Plus, this is your first Christmas here, and our first Christmas together, so I wanted to get a head start on it! Also, I may have seen a tiktok where someone put their decorations up and I instantly needed to put our tree up." Wade rambled, kneeling down to pet Mary's head, then standing back up and walking over to Logan with a huge smile on his face.

And okay, initially he was thinking of telling Wade to take it down for atleast a few more weeks, but he looks so happy that he couldn't bring himself to do so. "Well- it looks good. I like the tinsel." He comment, kissing Wade briefly on the lips before heading into the kitchen and grabbing a soda from the fridge.

He had been sober for a good 4 months now, and Logan wasn't planning on breaking that anytime soon. Wade made it easier, helped when he had a rough day, and they kept alot of soda in the fridge so he could have something in a can. It helped, having something familiar.

"You know, you've never mentioned anything about celebrating holidays. You better celebrate Christmas- if you don't because of religious reasons or whatever, fine- but I'm keeping my decorations up. It took me years to collect all of them!" Wade's voice brought him away from his thoughts, opening the can with a small chuckle, looking up at the other.

"I'm not religious. I don't think I could be living with you- I'd be going to hell if I was." He joked, sipping on his soda before leaning against the counter behind him. "Anyway, I do like Christmas. Just- haven't celebrated in awhile. That's all. Never really had anyone to celebrate with after....everything." Logan added on quietly, looking away.

It was still hard to talk about- his X-Men and what happened to them- but he was getting better. He didn't have a panic attack when people mentioned them now, and he could bring them up himself without feeling sick, which he thought was progress.

Christmas had always been a big deal in the mansion. Mostly for the kids- the ones who didn't have anywhere else to go. The team always made sure that they got to have a christmas like any other kid- getting them each a few presents that they wanted- and showed them that they always had a family here. No matter what.

Logan had never thought about celebrating Christmas after they died, or any other event for that matter. Birthdays, Halloween, Christmas- they had all been such happy funfilled events with the whole school that they left a bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thought of them.

But here he was, a new family and a new home, people to celebrate with. It had been strange, having people to do that with.

They celebrated everything together. Birthdays, Halloween, and anything else that gave them a reason to all gather at Wade's place and eat pizza. Why wouldn't Christmas be the same?

"Well....we don't have to celebrate. If you don't want too- I don't mind. I can deal with it like the big boy I am- but I do expect you to watch some 90 Day Fiance with me as thanks to my understanding." Wade teased, hoping to lighten the mood as he moved to stand infront of Logan, gently wrapping his arms around the others neck.

Logan smiled alittle, looking back towards Wade's eyes, and placing his free hand on his waist. "No- we can celebrate. Just haven't in awhile, that's all. Makes me remeber celebrating with the team...but, I will be very happy to spend Christmas with you and your friends." He said softly, kissing Wade with a smile, slowly pulling away after a second. "Plus, you seem very excited.....and I really don't want to watch that crap again." Logan added, a smirk on his face.

"They are OUR friends Peanut. And yeah- it's always been my favourite holiday. Ever since I was a kid. It was the one day I got a break from my asshole dad, because my family would come over and he couldn't yell at me with guests there. Anyway- away from the angsty headcannons the author clearly wants to insert- do you wanna help me put the rest of the lights on the tree?" Wade asked with a kiss to Logan's cheek, moving away and towards the living room again. "Also, that show is hilarious and you should love it!"

For the rest of November, they would cuddle on the couch under the Christmas tree lights, watching reruns of Golden Girls on the TV that was surrounded by small decorations.

And as Christmas got closer and closer (and by closer and closer, Logan means 3 weeks away), Wade got to planning the big day itself, running everything past Logan as he did.

"So, Laura said she wants to come over Christmas Eve and stay the night- which I'm all for! I'm thinking we can watch movies and eat cookies and it'll be awesome!" "Do you think Al would like a new TV for Christmas?" "We need to get Mary Puppins an ugly Christmas sweater Peanut!"

It seemed never ending, but Logan could see how much this all meant to Wade, so Logan agreed with whatever his partner wanted. He didn't mind what they did, as long as their family were over. Plus, he was alittle distracted with something himself.

He didn't know what to get Wade. At all.

Logan had already gotten everyone else presents (Wade had dragged him to the mall the second week of November), with most of them being from Wade and Logan as joint gifts, but Wade was different. Wade needed something special.

This was their first Christmas together and Wade had done so much for him over this past 10 months, letting him move in with him and teaching him to love again- so Logan wanted (needed) to find a gift that showed how much he cared for him. How much he appreciated everything Wade had done.

And you'd think, well Wade likes so many things, shouldn't that be easy? And the answer would be no. No it wasn't.

Half of the things Wade liked were either kids shows, or weapons, and Logan really wasn't sure how he could get a meaningful gift that involved both bluey and a pistol.

Thankfully, after another week if thinking, he got an idea.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

OKAY. HEAR ME OUT.

Justis (Dave’s son) bringing reader home bc they’re together, but Dave thinks she’s hella cute and reader too whatever. And then they end up fucking in like a bathroom or something😻

A/n: I'm feeling Christmassy, hope that's not a problem

Warnings: Smut, cheating, age gap, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

University was hard, you tried to get out when you could but you were always focused on your schoolwork.

Your friends brought you out a few times to bars or whatever but you were more comfortable being the designated driver. Oddly enough it was when you were studying in the library that you met Justis.

You had a class together and he confessed he always caught himself looking at you and wanting to talk to you but just couldn't bring himself to do it until then.

You kept talking with him, he was nice and always brought you snacks when he knew you'd be studying. It was good and you knew, worst comes to worst, University is for experimenting, which you'd be doing a lot of once you met his dad you just didn't know it at the time.

It was Christmas time, the perfect time to meet his family, his dad and sister at least, and you were excited, sure, but as soon as that door opened and you were met with Dave it was like breathing for the first time.

He was different, the way he smiled at you, that look in his eyes as he looked you up and down, taking in your appearance.

You had to remind yourself over and over you were here with your boyfriend, Justis, but your eyes kept going back to Dave, always meeting his.

The plan was to stay a week but you felt like you should make up an excuse to leave earlier, not that you wanted to but you saw the way Dave was looking at you, saw the hunger in his eyes.

It was Christmas Eve and you couldn't sleep, couldn't even bring yourself to close your eyes while Justis was out beside you, arm loosely wrapped around your torso.

Someone was moving around downstairs, you knew it was Electra because you would have heard her walking down the hall, it had to be Dave.

You couldn't take it anymore and decided to just go talk to him, it was innocent enough.

You managed to get out of bed without disturbing Justis and made it downstairs to find Dave wrapping a few presents and tucking them under the tree, as you got closer you saw they were marked 'From: Santa'. Neither Justis nor Electra believed in Santa anymore, obviously, but he still liked keeping that there.

He panicked a moment when he finally noticed you but calmed down when he saw it was you. "Jesus, you scared me." He said with a gruff chuckle.

"Sorry." You said, smiling back at him. You moved to sit next to him on the floor, looking over the pile of gifts under the tree.

"I got you some too, don't worry." He said, tucking the present he'd just tagged under the tree, setting it on a bigger one.

"Really?" You asked, tilting your head to him. "I didn't think you would." You said, looking back to the colourful wall of wrapping paper. "I-I didn't get you anything." You admitted, biting your bottom lip as you looked back at him.

He shook his head and placed his hand on your thigh, over your fuzzy Christmas pyjama pants. "You got me enough, sweetheart." He looked straight into your eyes as he said it, his own carrying a much darker gleam in them. He brought his hand back and picked up another gift while you sat and thought about what he really meant.

You sat with him for a while longer, watching his hands as they flipped and folded the paper. You handed him the tape as he worked, it was weird if you didn't help at all so you did the bare minimum, the smile he gave you when you handed him a piece made it worth it every time.

As time bore on you felt yourself finally getting tired, gradually moving closer to Dave until you were fully leaning against him.

He helped you up once you were done and walked with you to the stairs, your room was up them while his was down the hall, still he followed you up the stairs.

He heard someone moving in your room before you did and he pulled you into the bathroom across the hall. He flicked the light on and smashed his lips onto yours, a kiss you immediately reciprocated.

Justis stepped out of the room and saw the lights on in the bathroom, assuming you'd just gone in there and would be out soon he turned and went back to bed, all while his dad was tugging on your clothes.

Your fuzzy pants slid down your legs and he saw you'd gone commando. "Really, sweetheart?"

"Just for you." You gleamed, pulling him back into a kiss.

He lifted you up and set you down on the counter, standing between your legs and pushing his own pants and boxers down, just enough for his dick to spring free.

Your breathing was heavy, as was his. Your cheeks were flushed, your forehead pressed against his as he pushed into you, causing you to moan before he could slap his hand over your mouth.

"I knew it was you the other night." He said with a chuckled. It's true, you'd been thinking about Dave all day and couldn't get him off your mind after you crawled into bed. "Thinking of me, weren't you?"

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Not my fault when you look at me like that." You said, feeling yourself fluttering around him, eager for him to move. "He almost looks like you, anyway."

Dave snorted at that. "Doesn't feel the same, huh?" He asked, voice low, almost a growl. You shook your head, Dave was bigger in pretty much every way. Girthy and veiny and he smelled divine, you just kept aching for more. "That's what I thought." He mused, kissing you again as he started moving his hips, thrusts quickly picking up pace.

He was eager to please you, but it had been a while since he'd been with someone, he could already feel himself getting close.

He brought a hand to your clit, the sudden friction made you gasp into the kiss. He knew the second he pulled away you'd be moaning out his name like a worship song, he wanted to hear it but he couldn't risk waking up his kids, especially not with one of them dating you.

You mumbled something into the kiss, he didn't quite catch it but didn't think he'd have to. Then you pulled away. "Dave! I-I'm close, fuck!" You called. He rushed to get a hand over your mouth but you just pushed it away. The room filled with your moans, Dave gave up on silencing you and focused on how good you felt around him.

His arms wrapped around you as you came, he followed shortly after, letting himself spill into you.

It wasn't until then that he realized the banging he heard wasn't the two of you.

"What the fuck?!" Justis yelled from the other side of the door.

[070chwe]

AWKWARD — nicholas a. chavez

masterlist | inspo playlist

summary — a close friend’s destination wedding turns into an impromptu reunion between you and your all-grown-up college fuck-buddy. old flames reignite and tensions simmer in the italian sun, as you learn some sparks never really snuff out. inspired by awkward by sza.

word count — 25.1k

tags/warnings — feat. joshua hong, kim mingyu, a few other var. idols + ocs. fem!reader. forced proximity(?). eloping. 2 suggestive scenes. alcohol consumption (they’re in italy, it’s a lot of wine but nobody is drunk). best friends to lovers to scorned ex-situationship to friends to ???. angst for like 10 words because i just want everybody to be happy. josh and dae are plotting and scheming.

a/n — this is the longest piece i’ve written in years so i hope that you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. if anyone is interested besides me i may revisit these two in future as i am now Extremely emotionally attached to them. dedicated to my beautiful @titsout4nicholas who beta-read this and helped me flesh it out when i was stuck. please check out her writing at well!

DAY ONE

The cab winds its way up a narrow, cobblestone path, the engine purring as the late afternoon sun bathes the landscape in a golden glow. Between clusters of cypress trees, you catch glimpses of Lake Como shimmering like molten silver. The air feels impossibly clean, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers.

Joshua’s family villa looms ahead—a masterpiece of terracotta and ivy, perched like a crown atop the hill. You exhale slowly, the flutter in your stomach intensifying. You’ve travelled halfway across the world for this.

The cab stops in front of the grand iron gates, and you step out, your heels clicking against the stones. The estate is larger than you imagined, almost intimidating in its elegance. Joshua had joked in his messages that his aunt’s villa could host royalty, and now, standing here, you’re beginning to think he wasn’t exaggerating.

You press the buzzer, your nerves prickling as the gate buzzes open. Your suitcase rattles behind you as you make your way up the cobblestone driveway, flanked by gardens bursting with lavender and roses. The door opens before you can knock, and Joshua steps out, a grin already splitting his face.

“You made it!” His voice is warm, just like you remember, and the sight of him is enough to loosen the knot in your chest.

“Barely,” you tease, letting him pull you into a hug. “You didn’t mention how many hills I’d have to climb just to get here.”

He laughs, stepping back to look you over. “Italy suits you. You’re already glowing.”

“Please, I’ve been here for less than an hour,” you say, shaking your head.

“Well, Dae’s going to lose it when she sees you,” he says, ushering you inside.

The entryway is breathtaking—vaulted ceilings, marble floors, and soft sunlight pouring in through tall windows. There’s a faint citrusy smell in the air, mixed with fresh flowers. It’s almost too much to take in all at once.

“Where is Dae?” you ask as you trail behind Joshua.

“Probably trying to micromanage something,” he says with a fond roll of his eyes. “You know how she gets. Let me call her—”

Before he can finish, Dae appears at the top of the sweeping staircase. She practically sprints down, her steps light despite the heels she’s wearing. “You’re finally here!”

She pulls you into a tight hug, her excitement radiating off her in waves. “You look amazing,” she says, holding you at arm’s length for a moment.

“So do you,” you reply, meaning it. Her hair is swept up in a sleek ponytail, and she’s wearing a crisp white blouse that somehow looks effortless and chic.

“We’ve missed you,” she says, looping her arm through yours and steering you toward the living room. “Come on, let’s get you settled. You can tell us all about your flight, work—oh, and your love life.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Please,” Joshua chimes in from behind. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet in the group chat. That usually means something juicy is going on.”

“I’m literally here for your wedding,” you say, trying to deflect.

“And we love that for us,” Dae says with a grin. “But don’t think for a second you’re getting out of story time later.”

Their easy banter pulls you in, warming you from the inside out. For a moment, it’s as though no time has passed since the four of you spent late nights cramming for finals in your college apartment.

But there’s an undercurrent of unease you can’t quite shake. It surfaces when Dae casually mentions that some of their other friends will be arriving later. When you ask who, Joshua cuts in with a teasing, “You’ll see,” before Dae can answer.

The villa’s guest room is as luxurious as you expected, with a high ceiling, a plush king-sized bed, and a balcony that overlooks the lake. You set your suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed and sink onto the mattress, letting out a long breath. The journey here had been a blur of airports, connections, and winding roads, but now, with the late-afternoon sun warming the tiled floor, the reality of being here finally settles in.

The villa hums with quiet life. Somewhere below, you can hear the soft clatter of dishes and distant laughter. Outside, the breeze carries the faint scent of lavender and rosemary, mingling with the warmth of the sun-soaked air.

You had barely finished catching your breath when Dae showed up, practically dragging you out of the room for a whirlwind tour of the estate.

“This place is magic,” she’d said, her excitement infectious as she led you down stone corridors and through hidden courtyards. Every turn revealed something new—a secluded fountain framed by climbing roses, a sun-dappled veranda, a cozy library tucked away on the second floor. “We’re using the garden for the ceremony. Just wait until you see it.”

The tour ended on the dining terrace, overlooking the shimmering lake. A long, rustic table had already been set with crisp linens, flickering candles, and bursts of wildflowers.

“This is where dinner will be,” Dae had said, her voice softer, almost reverent. “We wanted it to feel intimate, you know? Like something you’d do at home, but—”

“Much fancier,” you’d finished for her, smiling.

Now, back in your room, you find yourself lingering on the balcony, taking it all in. The lake stretches out below, its surface catching the last golden rays of sunlight. The moment feels quiet, still, a sharp contrast to the rush of life back home.

You let out a slow breath, resting your hands on the cool stone of the railing. It had been too long since you’d had a moment like this—too long since you’d seen Dae and Joshua, too long since you’d allowed yourself to just stop.

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“It’s me!” Dae calls brightly.

You open the door to find her grinning, a whirlwind of energy in an elegant cream dress. “Dinner’s starting soon,” she says, glancing at you from head to toe. “Wow. You look amazing.”

You glance down at your outfit—a deep green dress that hugs your figure in all the right places. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Not bad? Excuse me, I look incredible,” she quips, flipping her hair dramatically before looping her arm through yours. “Come on. We’re sitting together, and you’ll want a drink before Josh starts his toast. He’s been rehearsing.”

The walk to the terrace feels like stepping into another world. The garden glows under strings of fairy lights, the long table a picture of effortless elegance. Music drifts softly in the background, mingling with the sound of laughter as Joshua holds court near the head of the table, gesturing animatedly.

“You did all this?” you ask Dae, marvelling at the details—the flowers, the candles, the cosy but luxurious ambiance.

She gives you a sheepish smile. “I had help, but yeah. It’s what we wanted—something small, personal. Just the people who matter most.”

Her words tug at something in your chest, and you squeeze her arm gently. “It’s perfect.”

As you take your seat, the warmth of the evening wraps around you, the glow of the lights adding a touch of magic to the scene. It feels like the start of something—not just a celebration, but maybe a shift, a moment to breathe and reconnect with the people who shaped the most important parts of your life.

“Breathe it in,” Dae says, nudging you with a grin. “This is just the beginning.”

The conversation around the table is light and easy, buoyed by Joshua’s endless charm and Dae’s quick wit. You find yourself laughing more than you expected, the warmth of the evening sinking into your shoulders and softening the edges of your travel fatigue.

“You two have met, right?” Dae asks suddenly, sliding back into the chair beside you after a round of wine refills.

You shake your head, glancing at the man Dae gestures to, sitting a few seats down. He’s hard to miss—tall, broad-shouldered, and ridiculously good-looking in a crisp white shirt that somehow makes him look even more tanned than he already is.

“Mingyu, this is my friend,” Dae says, leaning forward to catch his attention. “You’ll love her.”

Mingyu looks up, his easy grin spreading as he shifts his chair closer. “Ah, I’ve heard stories. You guys met in high school, right?”

You nod, offering a polite smile. “We did. And you’re…?”

“Mingyu,” he says, his voice smooth and warm. “Friend of Joshua’s. He’s been telling me about you guys for years.” He tilts his head, his dark eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You’re the one who keeps them in check, right?”

You laugh softly. “Someone has to.”

Dae nudges your arm, grinning. “Mingyu’s one of those guys who knows a little about everything. And he’s annoyingly good at all of it.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Mingyu says, leaning back casually. “I’m just here for the wine and the view.” His eyes flick to you for a moment, the faintest hint of flirtation in his tone.

You arch an eyebrow but say nothing, sipping your wine instead.

The conversation flows easily, with Mingyu sliding into the dynamic like he’s always been part of it. He teases Dae relentlessly, compliments her taste in wine, and somehow makes Joshua laugh so hard he has to set down his glass.

It’s almost enough to distract you from the quiet sense of anticipation that’s been building since the moment you arrived.

Almost.

You’re just about to ask Mingyu something about his work—he’s in hospitality, or maybe it was hotels?—when the quiet murmur of someone arriving pulls your attention to the garden gate.

Joshua stands, grinning broadly as he strides toward the gate. “Finally! Look who decided to show up!”

Your stomach twists sharply, and you glance instinctively toward the entrance.

Nicholas stands there, sweater slung over one shoulder, his shirt slightly rumpled as though he’d barely had time to catch his breath before arriving. The warm glow of the garden lights casts soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp cut of his jaw and the familiar intensity in his eyes.

Your fingers tighten around your wine glass.

He scans the group quickly, his expression carefully composed, but when his gaze lands on you, it falters just slightly. His lips part, and for a second, he looks…stunned. Like he hadn’t let himself consider the possibility of seeing you here, even though he should have known.

Then Joshua breaks the spell, clapping Nicholas on the back and pulling him into the fold. “Tough flight?”

“Delayed out of LAX,” Nicholas says simply, his voice as calm and measured as you remember. “But I made it.”

“And just in time,” Dae chimes in, standing to give him a quick hug. “We saved you a seat.”

Your stomach sinks as you realize exactly where that seat is.

Directly across from you.

Nicholas hesitates for the briefest of moments, his eyes flicking back to you as though weighing whether he has a choice. Then he lowers himself into the chair, nodding at the group.

The conversation resumes quickly, Joshua launching into a toast that draws laughter and applause, but you’re hyperaware of Nicholas’s presence, the quiet tension crackling in the air between you.

“Hi,” he says softly, leaning just slightly forward.

You force yourself to meet his gaze, offering a polite smile. “Hi, Nic.”

“Nic?” Mingyu interjects, leaning forward with a curious tilt of his head. “You two know each other?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel Nicholas’s eyes on you, waiting for your response.

“He’s the fourth, in the core four. We went to college together,” you say evenly, keeping your tone light.

“More like survived college together,” Nicholas adds, his voice carrying just the faintest edge of warmth.

Mingyu glances between the two of you, something flickering behind his amused expression, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he leans back in his chair, that easy grin returning. “Must have been some college.”

Nicholas’s jaw tightens slightly, though he doesn’t respond.

You sip your wine, doing your best to ignore the heat creeping up your neck as the conversation shifts away from you. But every so often, you catch Nicholas watching, his expression unreadable, and you can’t quite shake the feeling that you’ve been pulled into something you’re not ready to navigate.

And when Mingyu leans closer later in the evening, his voice low and teasing as he asks about your plans for the week, you don’t miss the subtle way Nicholas stiffens, his eyes flicking briefly in your direction.

For the first time tonight, you let yourself smile—not for Mingyu, not even for yourself, but for the quiet satisfaction of knowing Nicholas is watching.

The evening stretches on, the laughter around the table mellowing as glasses empty and conversations shift. You’ve managed to find a rhythm, the conversation flowing with Mingyu, Dae, and Joshua, but the tension between you and Nicholas lingers in the background like an uninvited guest.

Mingyu’s presence has certainly helped lighten the mood, and you find yourself laughing more easily than you expected, your earlier discomfort slowly melting away. His stories are ridiculous, and his charm is disarming in the best way, but there’s no denying the undercurrent of awareness that pulses through the room whenever your gaze meets Nic’s. It’s like there’s an invisible thread pulling you back to a time that feels both distant and incredibly close.

“Alright, alright,” Joshua finally says, pushing his chair back as the conversation dies down. “We’ll have to call it a night before Mingyu starts telling us about his gym routine again. Believe me, it’s all the same.”

Mingyu laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Guilty. But seriously, you should try it sometime, Joshua. Your abs could use a little work.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Dae interjects with a wink, standing to clear away the empty glasses. “He’s just mad because I won’t let him teach me how to ‘properly’ lift weights.”

You smile at the easy camaraderie between them, but as the evening winds down and the group begins to disband, the weight of the unspoken words between you and Nicholas hangs heavily in the air.

The others drift off in pairs—Joshua playfully nudging Dae as they head toward the kitchen, Mingyu wandering off with a last cheeky grin in your direction. You’re halfway to gathering the last of the plates when Nic’s voice stops you.

“Let me.”

You look up to see him standing there, hands already reaching for the empty bottles on the table. It’s a simple offer, but there’s something in his tone—something softer, unguarded. For a second, you consider brushing him off, but you step back instead, letting him take over.

“Thanks,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended.

Nic glances at you as he sets the bottles down, his expression unreadable. “You’ve had enough on your plate today.”

The comment feels loaded, though you can’t quite pinpoint why. You don’t respond immediately, instead fiddling with the edge of a napkin. He doesn’t move, lingering just close enough that the air between you seems to buzz with unsaid things.

“Long day,” you finally offer, shrugging, but your voice lacks conviction.

Nic leans his hip against the table, his gaze steady on yours. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know.”

Your chest tightens at his words, though you can’t bring yourself to look away. “Like what?”

“Like we’re strangers.” His voice is low, almost tentative.

You laugh softly, but there’s no humor behind it. “Well, isn’t that what we are now?”

The question hangs between you, heavy and sharp. Nic hesitates, his lips parting like he might argue, but then he seems to think better of it. Instead, he shakes his head slightly, as if trying to shake off the weight of whatever he’s feeling.

“Goodnight,” he says finally, his tone quieter now, but there’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe—in his eyes.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat as you watch him step away. The warmth of his presence lingers even after he’s gone, leaving you with a mix of emotions you can’t quite untangle.

By the time you make it to your room, the house is silent, save for the distant murmur of voices from the terrace. You sit on the edge of the bed, your hands resting in your lap, staring at nothing in particular. The weight of the evening settles over you like a thick, heavy fog, leaving your chest tight and your mind racing.

Nic.

You hadn’t let yourself say his name in your head for so long—not like this, not with every syllable feeling like a stone dropped into the still waters of your life. Seeing him again after all these years had cracked something open, something you’d buried deep and refused to examine.

He hadn’t changed much. The sharpness of his features, the confidence in his posture—it was all still there, though tempered now with a quiet weight that hadn’t been there before. And those moments, brief as they were, when his gaze softened on you, when his words carried a tenderness you weren’t prepared for… they left you raw.

The sight of him stirred up so many conflicting emotions, you didn’t know where to start. The anger—oh, the anger—was still there, simmering just below the surface. How could he leave you the way he had, without a word, without a fight? How could he stand here now, acting like he wanted to bridge a gap he created?

But it wasn’t just anger. It was the ache, the longing that twisted in your chest at the sound of his voice saying your name. It was the flood of memories, unbidden and too vivid: his laugh in the dead of night, the way his fingers curled around yours when he thought no one was looking, the warmth of his breath on your skin as he whispered something only meant for you.

It was the bitterness, too, of realizing how deeply you’d missed him, even when you swore you wouldn’t. Even when you swore you couldn’t.

And now he was here, standing just close enough to stir everything up but not close enough to make it okay. You thought you’d prepared yourself for this—Joshua and Dae had warned you, after all—but nothing could have readied you for the reality of facing him again, for the sharp edges of the past cutting into you with every glance, every word.

What did he want from you? What did he expect? And more terrifyingly, what did you want from him?

The questions swirled in your head, unanswered and overwhelming. You stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to will the thoughts away, but they wouldn’t go.

Part of you wanted to hate him, to let the bitterness overtake everything else. It would be so much easier than confronting the other part of you—the part that remembered what it felt like to love him, to feel safe in the space you’d carved out together, the part that wondered if he was here now to take that away from you all over again.

As you closed your eyes, exhaustion finally pulling at you, one thought lingered above all the rest, heavy and undeniable: what happens next?

And for the first time in years, you realized you weren’t sure if the answer scared you or thrilled you.

DAY TWO

The kitchen is quiet when you enter, the early morning light streaming through the wide windows, casting golden streaks on the wooden floor. Nic is already there, standing at the counter with a mug in hand, wearing a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. The sight of him is… jarring, yet oddly familiar. For a moment, you pause, unsure if you should turn around and leave or brave the awkwardness.

He looks up just as you step in, his posture stiffening slightly. “Morning,” he says, his voice low, like he’s testing the waters.

“Morning,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral as you move to the coffee pot. You’re acutely aware of the space between you—too much history to feel natural, not enough familiarity to feel comfortable.

The silence stretches as you pour your coffee, the sound of liquid hitting the ceramic mug louder than it should be. You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting him to leave, but he stays rooted in place, fiddling with his mug like he wants to say something.

“You sleep okay?” he asks after a beat, his voice casual but his gaze flickering with something heavier.

You nod, not looking at him. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

The small talk feels unnatural, like both of you are grasping at straws to fill the silence. You take a sip of your coffee, letting the warmth anchor you.

“Well,” you say after a moment, your voice a little too loud in the quiet kitchen. “I’m gonna head out to the terrace.”

Nic nods, stepping aside to give you space as you move past him. The air feels heavy as you walk away, your shoulders tense until you’re outside and the cool morning breeze brushes against your skin.

You settle into one of the cushioned chairs on the terrace, pulling your knees up as you cradle your coffee. The view of the garden below is stunning, but your mind is elsewhere—on the kitchen, on Nic, on the way your chest felt tight just being in the same room as him.

The sliding door creaks open, and a moment later, Dae appears, holding her own mug of tea. She takes one look at you and immediately crosses the terrace to join you, settling into the chair beside yours.

“Stealing my spot already?”

“It’s not your spot. It’s the best spot,” you reply with a faint smile, trying to mask the thoughts spinning in your head.

Dae doesn’t buy it. “You’ve got that look,” she says, tapping her mug against yours. “You’re mulling. Spill it.”

You laugh softly, but there’s no point denying it. “You already know what I’m thinking about,” you say, leaning back in your chair.

“Nic,” Dae states plainly, and you glance away, caught. She leans closer, her smile mischievous. “So, are you going to talk to him? I mean, really talk? Five years is a long time, but… I don’t know. Maybe it’s time.”

You groan, toying with loose thread on your pyjama pants. “Dae, come on. I can barely get through breakfast without feeling like I’m going to drown in all the unresolved… everything. I don’t even know what I’d say to him. It’s not that simple.”

Dae shrugs, her teasing softening into something more thoughtful. “Maybe not, but you two were close once. Really close. And I know what he did was awful, but… he’s different now.”

You narrow your eyes, skeptical. “Different how?”

“I mean, people grow up, you know? They change.” She hesitates, then meets your gaze. “Nic’s talked about it, you know. Over the years. Not all the time, but enough for me to know he regrets it. Deeply. What he did to you.”

You blink, her words hitting harder than you expect. “He… regrets it?”

Dae nods, her expression earnest. “I think he’s always regretted it. He just didn’t know how to fix it—or if he even could. He’s told Josh and me that what he did was the biggest mistake of his life.”

You look away, the weight of her words settling heavily on your chest. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think you deserve to know,” she says simply. “And I know you don’t owe him anything. Not your forgiveness, not your time, nothing. But I also know you. You don’t let people in easily, and when you do, it’s because they matter to you. He mattered to you once, and maybe—just maybe—it’s worth figuring out if he still does.” Dae watches as you stew on her words. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say, though you brace yourself.

“Do you still care about him? I don’t mean, like, pine-after-him care. I mean… as a person. As someone who was once really important to you.”

Her words settle over you like the warmth of the sun, and you know the answer without hesitation. “Yes,” you admit. “I’ll probably always care about him. I don’t know what that means, though.”

Dae smiles softly. “That’s something. And I’m not saying you have to figure it out right now. But…” She hesitates, then laughs lightly. “Okay, this is cheesy, but Josh and I have had our disagreements. Big ones. And what’s always worked for us is being honest. Like, painfully honest. Even when it’s uncomfortable.”

You tilt your head, curious. “He’s never hurt you the way Nic hurt me.”

She nods, serious now. “No, he hasn’t. And that’s huge. It’s not the same, I know that. But you’ve always been one of the strongest people I know. I just don’t want you to close a door without looking through it first, you know?”

You look out over the lake, her words echoing in your mind. The idea of rekindling anything with Nicholas feels impossible, and yet… you’ve spent five years trying to bury something that clearly refuses to stay buried.

“I don’t even know if I want the door open,” you say after a moment, and Dae laughs.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to decide today. Just don’t lock it yet. You’ve got a week, give it some time.”

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. Dae reaches over and squeezes your hand, the gesture grounding you. You sit together in companionable silence, the morning sun climbing higher as the day stretches ahead, the uncertainty of the week hanging just out of reach.

The estate had a life of its own, buzzing with the quiet hum of excitement and last-minute wedding plans. Over the next few hours, you spent your time catching up with old friends and new faces alike. Joshua’s cousin Johnny, loud and perpetually armed with a joke, seemed to find you every time you lingered near the sitting room.

“You’ve got to stop hiding in here,” he teased, leaning against the doorway as you gazed out the window, book in hand. “Otherwise, we’re all going to think you’ve turned into a hermit.”

Johnny’s relentless energy was matched only by Dae’s younger cousin Theo, who had arrived with his girlfriend, India—a warm and bubbly presence who made you laugh more than once with her stories about Theo’s less-than-graceful attempts at wedding prep.

And then there was Mingyu, effortlessly charming as always, slipping into every conversation with a wink or a quip that made you wonder if he was born to make people feel special. He had a way of lightening the mood, even when you found yourself retreating into your thoughts.

By the afternoon, the rehearsal ceremony began in the estate’s garden. The celebrant, a kind Italian woman with a melodic accent, guided Dae and Joshua through the motions. You stayed off to the side, a silent observer. Watching the way they looked at each other—full of shared history, love, and promise—made your chest ache. It wasn’t envy, not exactly, but it stirred something deep within you, something unresolved.

Yeri, Dae’s younger sister, took her role as maid of honor seriously, adjusting Dae’s dress and making playful jabs about how Joshua would probably cry during the real ceremony. Johnny, Joshua’s best man, was less focused, cracking jokes and dramatically mimicking the celebrant’s gestures until Dae swatted him on the arm.

You smiled at the scene, grateful to be part of such an intimate moment, even as a quiet observer. It felt like a privilege to witness this chapter of their story unfold.

The rehearsal dinner followed shortly after, hosted in a grand but cozy dining room adorned with soft lighting and fragrant floral arrangements. You were seated a few spots away from Nic, with Dae on one side and Theo across from you, his girlfriend India chatting animatedly with Mingyu. Johnny, ever the life of the party, held court a few seats down, keeping everyone entertained with his endless stream of stories.

“So,” Johnny said, pointing a fork toward you, “I just realized this is the first time I’ve seen you in years.” He turned to Joshua. “Wasn’t it your 21st birthday party when we met?”

You nodded, remembering the lavish house party Joshua had thrown during your junior year of college. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You spent half the night in a heated debate about Australian football with one of the bartenders.”

Johnny grinned. “Good times. But hey, I remember more than just the bartender. You two”—he gestured vaguely between you and Nic—“were definitely sneaking off somewhere that night, weren’t you?”

The table quieted slightly, and you felt your cheeks flush. You glanced at Nic, whose expression was neutral but whose jaw tightened just enough for you to notice.

“I mean, I’m not saying I was spying,” Johnny continued, clearly oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere. “But I remember catching a bit of a moment between you two. By the pool? Or was it the kitchen? Anyway—”

“Johnny,” Joshua interrupted smoothly, though there was an edge to his voice. “Let it go.”

Nic chimed in with a dry tone. “I think your memory’s getting creative.”

Johnny blinked, looking between the two of them, then raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. No need to gang up on me. Just saying what I saw.”

“You thought you saw,” Joshua corrected firmly, and Johnny finally seemed to pick up on the fact that the subject was off-limits.

Theo, sensing the tension, jumped in to change the subject. “So, India and I were trying to figure out the best time to visit Florence—any recommendations?”

The conversation shifted to travel plans, and you let out a quiet breath, grateful for the diversion. Still, Johnny’s comment lingered, bringing back flashes of that night—Nic’s hand brushing yours, the way he’d looked at you when he thought no one else was watching.

When dessert was served, you found yourself catching snippets of Nic’s voice as he spoke to Joshua and Mingyu. His laugh was warm, familiar, and it tugged at something deep inside you. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed hearing it.

Every now and then, you felt his gaze drift toward you, but he never let it linger long. It was almost as if he was waiting for the right moment to speak, but the moment never came.

The conversation at the table had settled into a comfortable rhythm after Johnny’s earlier slip-up, everyone enjoying the fine Italian meal and the company. Mingyu, seated just a spot down from Nic, leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass as he listened to Nic talk about his work.

“Josh tells me you’re a prosecutor in LA?” Mingyu asked, his eyebrows lifting in interest.

Nic nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. Criminal defense first, but I made the switch to prosecution about a year ago. It’s challenging, but I enjoy it. Keeps me sharp.”

Mingyu tilted his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Man, I don’t know how you deal with all that pressure. I’m just behind a counter, trying to make sure pastries look good enough to eat and that customers leave happy.”

Nic chuckled, a hint of admiration in his tone. “Don’t sell yourself short. Managing a bakery chain sounds like it comes with its own kind of stress. And let’s be honest, no one’s day gets worse because of a croissant.”

Mingyu grinned, leaning forward. “True. But the way some people act when we run out of almond tarts? You’d think I committed a crime. At least you’re dealing with actual criminals.���

Nic laughed, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick with my courtroom drama. Pastry wars sound way too intense for me.”

Mingyu laughed, the sound warm and infectious as he leaned back in his chair. Then his gaze shifted to you, his curiosity genuine. “What about you? What’s your story?”

You took a sip of your wine, smiling. “I’m an oral surgeon.”

Before you could elaborate, Nic’s voice cut in smoothly. “A damn good one, too.”

The unexpected compliment hung in the air, and your cheeks warmed despite yourself. You glanced at Nic, whose expression was sincere, though he quickly looked away, his fingers fidgeting with the stem of his glass.

“Well,” you said with a small shrug, trying to play it off, “he’s not wrong.”

Mingyu grinned, clearly impressed. “Guess I know who to call if I ever need a new jaw.”

You smirked, your response coming easily. “I’m not expecting that call anytime soon. Your jaw looks perfectly fine from where I’m sitting”

The table laughed at your quick retort, and even Nic cracked a smile, though his fingers tightened slightly around his glass. You couldn’t quite tell if it was the flirtation or the ease with which you’d fallen into it that bothered him.

Mingyu leaned in, still grinning. “Good to know I’ve got the expert’s seal of approval.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased lightly, turning your attention back to your plate.

As the conversation shifted again, Nic remained mostly quiet, only chiming in here and there. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was holding back on purpose—or if he was waiting for the right moment to say something more meaningful.

While his praise had flattered you, it also left you feeling a little unsteady. He hadn’t said a word about the way things ended between you, and until he did, it was impossible to tell what his intentions for the week might be.

Still, there was a part of you that wanted to believe the look in his eyes—warm, familiar, and perhaps a little regretful—was a step toward something better, even if you weren’t sure what that better looked like just yet.

The sound of clinking glass and running water draws you toward the kitchen as the evening winds down. Joshua is standing at the sink, rinsing a wine glass with the kind of precision that only he could make look natural. His blazer is draped over the back of a chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“You’re not the help, you know,” you say lightly as you step into the room, leaning against the counter.

Joshua glances at you over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And yet, somehow, I’m always cleaning up after Mingyu. He has this uncanny ability to use three glasses for every drink.”

You laugh softly, crossing your arms as you watch him. There’s a brief silence, the kind that only Joshua could make feel comfortable, before he turns off the faucet and turns to face you fully.

“How are you doing?” he asks, his voice gentle but direct.

You blink at him, caught slightly off guard. “I’m fine. Why?”

“Because I know you better than that.” He leans against the counter opposite you, his gaze steady. “It’s a lot. Him being here.”

You sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of his words. “I don’t even know how I feel, Josh. Every time I see him, it’s like—” You pause, struggling to find the words. “It’s like this hollow drop in my stomach, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m happy to see him or because I’m… angry that he’s here.”

Joshua tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe it’s both.”

“Maybe.” You chew on your bottom lip, the thoughts swirling in your head louder now that you’ve voiced them. “I don’t even know if I should bring it up. What’s the point, you know? It’s been five years. What am I even supposed to say?”

Joshua steps closer, resting a hand on your shoulder briefly. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Give it time. You’ve always been the more emotionally mature one between the two of you. I trust you’ll handle it the way you need to.”

His words settle over you like a thin veil of comfort, but the knot in your chest doesn’t entirely loosen.

Without saying anything else, Joshua moves toward the counter and begins brewing you a cup of tea. The soft clink of the kettle and the quiet rustle of the tea bags fill the stillness between you, an unspoken offer of calm in the midst of your swirling thoughts.

He doesn’t need to say much more—his presence alone, steady and unassuming, is enough. As the steam rises from the freshly brewed tea, you take a slow breath, letting the warmth of the moment seep into your bones, even if it doesn’t chase away the uncertainty that lingers.

Joshua sets the mug of tea in front of you, steam curling up into the air between you. The kitchen is quiet now, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as the rest of the house winds down for the night.

“I’m cutting you off for the weekend,” Joshua says with a teasing smile, leaning against the counter. “No more drip-feeding you wine, or you’ll spend every morning with hangxiety and then blame me for it.”

You laugh softly, cradling the mug in your hands. “You’re not wrong. You’re a terrible influence, though.”

“Hey, I’m the voice of reason tonight,” he counters. “Remember this when you wake up feeling human tomorrow.”

The two of you fall into easy small talk after that—light chatter about the rehearsal, the chaos of planning a wedding abroad, and how Dae is likely still tweaking the seating arrangements upstairs. It’s easy, familiar, a welcome distraction.

But eventually, Joshua straightens and grabs his blazer from the back of the chair. “I’m calling it a night. You should, too.”

You hum noncommittally, staring into your tea. “I will. Soon.”

Joshua doesn’t press. He just rests a hand on your shoulder briefly as he passes. “Don’t overthink it, ‘kay. Not all at once, anyway.”

A soft sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupts your thoughts, and you glance up to find Nic descending into the kitchen, his pyjamas a stark contrast to the polished image he usually presents. There’s something strangely domestic about him in this moment—almost familiar. His hair is mussed, his shoulders relaxed, and for a second, he looks like the Nic you used to know, back when things were easy.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, trying to keep things light as he moves toward the counter to fill a glass of water.

He chuckles softly, a hint of weariness in his voice. “Yeah, that or I just didn’t feel like staying in that giant bed all alone. Guess I’m just not used to it.”

The casualness of his tone makes you smile, but there’s a touch of sadness beneath it, something unspoken. He looks over at you, his eyes softer now, not the sharpness from earlier. The room feels smaller, and for the first time since you arrived, the tension between you two feels less suffocating, almost bearable.

Nic leans against the counter, sipping his water, his gaze flickering toward you with a quiet intensity. “I know things were… complicated, back then,” he starts, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “And I know I left without giving you any real answers.”

You feel a tightness in your chest, the memory of it still fresh, even after all these years. But he doesn’t press further, not yet.

“I don’t expect any huge conversations right now,” Nic adds quickly, his voice taking on a gentler edge. “But if you ever want to talk about… anything, I’m here. I know I screwed up. I just want you to know that.”

The simplicity of it catches you off guard. It’s not a grand gesture or an apology, but it feels like an olive branch, a small offering, an acknowledgment of the past without expecting you to jump right in. There’s a rawness in his words, something real and vulnerable that makes your heart ache, but it doesn’t feel too heavy. Not yet.

He looks at you for a beat longer, as though waiting for something—an answer, maybe, or a sign that you’re willing to meet him halfway. When you don’t immediately respond, he shifts his weight, seeming almost a little self-conscious.

“I mean, you know where I am if you need me,” he adds, his tone lighter, but there’s something there—something sincere. “For whatever it’s worth.”

You can feel the weight of his words, of the quiet truth in them. Maybe it’s nothing more than a flicker of hope, but it feels like a bridge, and you’re not sure what to do with it just yet.

For a moment, you both simply stand there in the kitchen, the sound of the clock ticking the only thing breaking the silence. The tension hasn’t disappeared, not by a long shot, but it feels different now. The air between you isn’t as thick, the distance not quite as vast.

You bring yourself to nod briefly, mustering up a small smile. “Thank you, Nic.”

Nic finishes his water and starts to move toward the stairs, glancing back at you once more. “Well,” he says, with a small, almost reluctant smile, “I’ll be around if you want to talk… whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make you wonder if maybe there’s a chance, however small, to heal what was broken between you.

As he heads upstairs, you stay in the kitchen a little longer, the warmth of the tea in your hands and his words lingering in the quiet. For the first time since you arrived, you wonder if there might be a way forward. Not right now, but maybe someday.

DAY THREE

The sun is high and warm as you join Dae down by the grass near the steps leading to the lake. She’s sprawled out on a blanket, sunglasses perched on her nose, a chilled spritz in hand. You settle beside her, folding your legs under you and squinting out at the scene below: an impromptu volleyball game on the lawn.

Joshua dives for the ball with reckless enthusiasm, sending Mingyu into a fit of laughter as Johnny yells at him for botching the point. Mingyu sets the ball with ease, his towering frame and effortless movements commanding attention. Nic leaps, shirtless, to spike it over the net, his focus sharp, muscles flexing with precision.

Your eyes catch on him.

It’s the first time you’ve seen Nic shirtless since… well, since that night five years ago, the last time you’d touched him in that way. And what you’re seeing now? It’s very different.

He’s taller—or maybe just broader. His shoulders are like carved stone, his waist tapered and solid. His chest is thick with definition, and his arms look like they could snap a volleyball in half if he wanted to. And then there’s the six-pack, glistening slightly in the sun, drawing your gaze lower, entirely against your will.

Your thoughts betray you, running away into dangerous territory. What would those arms feel like now? Stronger, sure, but what about softer moments—hands brushing over your sides, pulling you closer?

Your thighs clench involuntarily, and the heat rising to your cheeks has nothing to do with the sun.

“You’re staring.”

Dae’s voice pulls you back to reality.

“I’m not staring,” you say, too quickly, shifting your sunglasses down to try and hide your expression.

“You are,” she teases, smirking. “I mean, I don’t blame you—look at him.”

You huff, feigning indifference. “When did he get so… big?”

“Josh says he’s been hitting the gym hard in LA,” Dae says, taking a lazy sip of her drink. “Work stress or something. Whatever it is, it’s working for him. And Mingyu too, for that matter.”

Your gaze flickers to Mingyu, who’s equally shirtless and equally distracting. He’s leaner than Nic, but just as tall, his arms roped with muscle, his easy grin radiating confidence.

Dae leans in closer, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “If things don’t work out with Nic, you could always try your hand at Mingyu. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

“Dae,��� you hiss, elbowing her, though you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.

She shrugs, entirely unrepentant, her grin widening. “Just saying. Your options are very tall and very broad right now.”

Before you can respond, the game wraps up with Joshua letting out a triumphant cheer, and Johnny collapses onto the grass in mock defeat. The boys gather near the water, catching their breath.

Josh heads your way, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, babe,” he calls to Dae.

She barely has time to react before he scoops her up, slinging her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing.

“Josh!” she shrieks, laughing as she flails. “Put me down!”

“Nope.” He strides confidently toward the water, ignoring her protests, and wades in until he’s waist-deep before dunking them both under with a laugh.

The others follow, kicking off shoes and tossing towels aside. Nic lingers, glancing up toward you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seems like he’s about to say something.

But Mingyu beats him to it.

“You just gonna sit there admiring the view,” he calls from the bottom of the steps, his grin playful, “or are you actually gonna join us?”

You roll your eyes, pushing to your feet. “Fine.”

You tug off the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on earlier, revealing the bikini you’d chosen—a simple design, but it fits well. Age has been kind to your figure. Your hips and breasts are fuller now, your waist more defined. You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s grin widens as he takes you in, nor the way Nic’s jaw tightens before he quickly turns to Johnny, mumbling something about the water.

As you descend the steps, you stop beside Mingyu, arching a brow. “If you stare any harder you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

His grin turns coy. “Who, me? I’m just appreciating the scenery.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, though you can’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips.

The cool water was a welcome distraction as you waded in, but it didn’t stop your thoughts from wandering. Mingyu’s easy charm was tempting, but it was the weight of Nic’s presence—the unspoken history between you—that lingered at the edges of your mind. As the morning sun blazed overhead, you couldn’t help but wonder which tension would win out by the end of the week.

You leaned back into the cool water, letting it lap against your shoulders as Mingyu floated closer. His easygoing smile was impossible not to return, and his playful energy seemed to dissolve any tension lingering in the air.

“You know,” he started, tilting his head as he treaded water, “I didn’t peg you as the lake-swimming type.”

You raised a brow, matching his grin. “What gave it away?”

“Oh, just the whole polished professional vibe,” he teased. “I figured you’d be more into heated pools or, I don’t know, champagne on yachts.”

You scoffed, splashing a bit of water in his direction. “Wow, way to stereotype.”

Mingyu laughed, dodging the splash dramatically. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s not every day you see someone who can pull off surgeon chic also out here braving the elements.”

“Surgeon chic? Braving the elements?” you repeated, incredulous. “It’s a lake, not the Arctic.”

“Still,” he said, grinning as he swam a slow circle around you. “I’m impressed. Multitalented, aren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “What about you? Do you always talk this much when you’re swimming?”

“Only when I’m trying to distract myself from how cold the water is,” he admitted, mock-shivering for effect. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he added, “Or when I’m trying to keep someone’s attention on me.”

You smirked, narrowing your eyes at him. “Subtle.”

“Subtlety is overrated,” he quipped, his grin widening. “But hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”

You splashed him again, laughing as he yelped in protest. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, blinking water from his eyes with a wide smile, “here we are.”

The sound of laughter carried over from the shore as the others waded back into the lake. Johnny, forever the instigator, suggested a round of shoulder wars, and the idea was immediately met with enthusiasm.

Josh hoisted Dae onto his shoulders with ease, her laugh ringing out as she adjusted herself. Johnny waved Nic over. “C’mon, big guy. You’re carrying me.”

Nic’s eyes widened slightly, but he shrugged, wading over and lifting Johnny onto his shoulders without much effort. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Johnny replied, his arms raised in triumph.

Mingyu turned to you with a playful smirk, extending a hand. “Looks like it’s you and me, princess. Ready?”

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. With surprising gentleness, he guided you up, steadying you until you were perched above the water.

“Comfortable?” he asked, glancing up at you.

“Not bad,” you admitted, gripping his shoulders lightly. “Just don’t drop me.”

“Never,” he replied, his tone mockingly gallant.

The game began with Dae and Johnny immediately going after each other, their laughter and taunts echoing over the water. You and Nic locked eyes briefly as you balanced on Mingyu’s shoulders, and something unreadable flickered in his expression before Johnny distracted him with a war cry.

Mingyu’s hands were steady on your calves as he maneuvered you into position. “You’re gonna let them win?” he teased, nodding toward Dae and Josh.

“Not a chance,” you shot back, leaning forward to push against Dae.

For a few moments, it was pure chaos—splashing water, shouted challenges, and laughter ringing out. Mingyu was solid beneath you, matching Josh’s strength easily, but Dae was relentless. She managed to shove you just enough that you wobbled precariously, though Mingyu adjusted quickly, keeping you upright.

“Close one,” he said, grinning up at you.

“Focus,” you shot back, swatting at Dae again.

At some point, Johnny made his move, lunging toward you and Dae simultaneously in a fit of uncoordinated glory. You and Dae both shrieked as the impact sent water flying, and you toppled sideways with a loud splash.

When you surfaced, sputtering, Nic was already helping Johnny back to his feet, shaking his head at his antics. Mingyu appeared beside you a second later, slicking his hair back with a grin.

“Not bad, partner,” he said, his tone teasing. “You’ve got some fight in you.”

You smirked, splashing him lightly. “You were a decent support.”

Across the water, Nic’s gaze flickered your way, his expression unreadable before he turned back to Johnny. The look lingered in your mind longer than you wanted to admit, even as the group dissolved back into casual laughter and chatter.

Mingyu drifted closer, his playful grin firmly in place. “So, do I get points for being the most entertaining person here?”

You snorted, splashing a little water his way. “Is that what this is? A competition?”

“Everything’s a competition,” he teased, brushing water from his face. “And I think I’m winning. You laughed, didn’t you?”

“Oh, please,” you shot back with a smirk. “I laugh at Johnny’s dad jokes, too. Doesn’t mean you’re special.”

Mingyu clutched his chest in mock-offense, a dramatic gasp escaping him. “Wow. Here I thought we were building something. Guess I’ll have to rethink my choices.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Might be a good idea.”

“Noted,” he said, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned back in the water. “But for the record, I think I’m still ahead of Johnny.”

“I’ll give you that much,” you conceded, the easy banter making it harder to stay in your own head.

But as you glanced back toward the group, the fleeting weight of Nic’s earlier look was still there, unshakable.

The afternoon unfolds lazily around you as you stretch out on a cane chair, the sun casting a warm glow over everything. The air is rich with the scent of the lake, fresh grass, and the faintest hint of wood smoke. It’s a perfect day, easy and unhurried, with nothing pressing and no rush to be anywhere.

You watch as Joshua and Nic sprawl out on the lawn, deep in conversation. Joshua’s laugh rises above the hum of the world, light and familiar, while Nic listens intently, nodding along with whatever Joshua is saying. There’s something grounding about the way they interact, a friendship that’s built on years of trust. You can almost feel the weight of it, the comfort they’ve always had with one another. Dae’s head rests in Joshua’s lap, her eyes closed as she listens to the conversation lazily, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his jeans. The scene is easy, peaceful, and yet, you can’t escape the undercurrent of tension that pulls at your chest every time your eyes flicker over to Nic.

Mingyu flops down into the chair next to you, pulling your attention away from the group. He stretches, cracking his neck, before settling into a relaxed slouch. His presence is a welcome distraction, a change of pace from the quiet storm brewing in your mind.

“You look like you’re in deep thought,” Mingyu remarks, his voice teasing but with a hint of concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Just… watching everyone,” you reply, settling into the chair more comfortably, one leg draped over the armrest. “Trying to catch my breath, I guess.”

Mingyu tilts his head, glancing over at the group on the lawn, then back to you. “Yeah, it’s a good vibe today,” he agrees. “Everyone looks so relaxed. I like that.” He stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “Feels like a long time since I’ve had a day like this.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-smiling at him. “You, taking a break? What do you even do when you’re not working?”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, sinking deeper into his chair. “You know, the usual. Travel, work, annoy people.” He glances over at you. “Like I’m doing right now.”

“Mm, you’re not the worst,” you tease, your smile growing as you let your gaze shift back to the others. Nic is still talking with Joshua, his voice carrying across the lawn, but there’s a softness in his posture now, like he’s more at ease.

Mingyu follows your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. “You seem very fond of Nic,” His voice is casual, but you catch the hint of curiosity behind it.

You freeze for a split second, caught off guard by his statement. You hadn’t expected him to notice, or at least not comment on it. But Mingyu is like that—sharp in ways you don’t always expect.

“Yeah,” you say carefully, letting out a slow breath. “We used to be really close in college, but time and life just got in the way. It’s strange seeing him after so long.” You leave it at that, not ready to get into the mess of it all. Not now, anyway.

Mingyu’s eyes soften, though he doesn’t press further. “It’s good to see you looking peaceful,” he says with a gentle smile. “Whatever happened, it’s obvious you’re doing okay now. I respect that.”

You nod, grateful for his understanding, and the conversation shifts away from the past as Mingyu begins to talk about his latest photography project. He shows you a few pictures on his phone, explaining the stories behind them—places he’s traveled, moments he’s captured. He talks about it with such passion that it’s easy to get lost in his words, the way his face lights up as he describes the scenes.

In some ways, it feels like a distraction you didn’t know you needed. But as Mingyu talks, your mind drifts back to Nic—how he looks at you, how he’s always been there, in his own way, even when you both tried to distance yourselves from each other.

“Have you been to Seoul?” Mingyu suddenly asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blink, realizing you’ve missed part of what he’s said. “Sorry, what?”

Mingyu laughs. “I asked if you’ve been to Seoul. I know you’ve traveled a lot. You strike me as someone who would enjoy the culture there.”

“I have, actually,” you reply, smiling softly at the thought. “Joshua roped me into a trip with him and Dae not long before I did my post-grad.”

Mingyu grins. “I’ve got a few spots I need to take you to next time. If you’re up for it, that is.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Are you offering a tour guide service, Mingyu?”

“Absolutely,” he says with mock seriousness, “I’m a professional at it. No one’s better.”

You laugh, the sound light and unburdened for a moment. It feels nice to let go of the tension, even if it’s just for a little while. But as the conversation continues, you can’t ignore the fact that your mind keeps returning to Nic—his presence, his silence, his eyes on you. The knot in your stomach tightens again.

Eventually, Theo and India join the group, and the energy picks up again as everyone starts chatting and laughing. You let yourself relax into the moment, but something still lingers in your chest. You’re starting to feel the weight of the past more and more. And you can’t help but wonder when you’ll be ready to put it down.

After lunch, the sun hangs lazily in the sky, the afternoon heat beginning to soften as the shadows stretch longer across the villa grounds. You find yourself walking slowly, your feet brushing the warm stones as you make your way back down to the water’s edge. The sound of the waves lapping gently against the rocks is soothing, and you sit at the base of the stone steps, letting the cool breeze from the lake wash over you. The world around you feels peaceful, distant, like a moment you could easily lose yourself in if you allowed it.

But you don’t.

Your thoughts keep circling back to Nic—his presence, his silence, the way he’s been watching you from the corners of your vision, like he’s waiting for something. You don’t know what that something is, but you’re starting to feel the weight of it, the heavy undercurrent of a past that won’t let you go.

It’s not long before you hear the soft crunch of footsteps on gravel, and you don’t need to turn to know who it is. Nic’s voice reaches you before he does, low and tentative.

“Mind if I join you?”

You glance over your shoulder, and for a moment, your heart stutters. There’s something in his eyes, a softness that’s hard to place, but you don’t bristle. You nod, shifting slightly to give him space, and he lowers himself onto the step beside you, leaving a small distance between you. The silence settles over the two of you like an old, familiar friend, though it’s different now. More fragile.

Nic watches the lake for a moment before speaking again, his voice quiet. “You and Mingyu seem to be getting along pretty well.” He doesn’t look at you as he says it, his gaze fixed on the water in front of him.

You chuckle, the sound coming out a little bitterer than you intended. “I don’t really know the guy. He’s just a sweet talker.” You glance at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Does it bother you?”

Nic exhales, shifting on the stone. “A little. Yeah.” He pauses, then glances at you, his expression softening. “It reminds me of how we used to be, you know? All the teasing, all the jokes… the way we’d just be there for each other.”

Something flickers in your chest, but you can’t quite place it. You tilt your head, studying him for a moment. “It’s funny, though,” you say, the words tasting dry on your tongue. “That it bothers you now. After all this time.” You turn your gaze back to the water, watching the ripples dance in the fading light. “It’s a little late, don’t you think?”

Nic doesn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, the only sound is the gentle lapping of the water against the stones. You feel the weight of the conversation hovering, suspended in the air, but there’s no rush to fill it. Not yet.

Finally, he speaks, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it.”

You don’t look at him, but the words settle into you, a reminder of all the things left unsaid. A reminder that maybe, just maybe, he regrets the way things ended between the two of you. You wonder if that’s enough.

It’s not. Not yet.

Instead, you just nod, letting the moment linger, your heart a mix of confusion and something else you can’t quite name.

After a long pause, you let out a breath. “It’s strange, you know. I don’t even know how to talk to you anymore. It’s like we’re strangers, but… not.” You shake your head, frustrated with your own inability to make sense of things.

Nic turns to face you now, his voice low but steady. “I know.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, and for a moment, you almost feel the weight of your past self and who you are now collide. It’s uncomfortable, raw, and you don’t know how to move past it. But you also know that this isn’t something you can avoid forever.

“Maybe it’s just the way things are,” you say finally, shrugging. “Maybe we’re just… supposed to be like this. With everything that’s happened.”

Nic’s eyes soften at your words, and he leans back against the step, his arms folded across his chest. “Maybe.”

You sit in the quiet with him, both of you staring at the water as the evening light begins to dim. Neither of you speaks again, but the air between you feels different now—heavier, maybe. But also lighter in a way, as though the words have started to open something that’s been shut for too long.

The silence stretches between you, the water lapping at the stones below. It’s almost like you’re both holding your breath, waiting for the next words to be said.

Finally, you break the quiet, your voice softer now, tinged with something that feels like release. “I don’t want to keep being angry at you, you know? It’s exhausting, and it’s never actually gotten me anywhere.” You shrug, though it’s more of a surrender than an answer. “I guess I just wanted answers. I still do.”

Nic is still for a moment, processing your words, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours. There’s something heavy in his eyes, an apology that seems to be hanging on the edge of his tongue.

When he speaks, it’s almost as though he’s talking to himself more than you. “I’m sorry that I left you to carry that alone. It wasn’t fair. I know that now.” His voice drops a little, quieter, like the weight of the years has finally hit him.

You feel a shift inside, the heaviness of his admission pressing against the tight knot in your chest. It’s not everything, but it’s enough. Enough to make you exhale deeply, to loosen the grip you’ve held on the anger, even if just for a moment.

The soft sound of the water fills the silence again. You turn your gaze toward the lake, letting the words settle. “I don’t know what the right thing to do is… but I don’t want to keep carrying all of this.” You glance at him, your expression guarded but tired. “Maybe… maybe I just need time.”

Nic doesn’t press, doesn’t offer anything more. He just nods slowly, as if he understands that this is only a small step. It’s not forgiveness, not yet, but it’s something. You can feel the weight of the years beginning to lift, if only just a little.

DAY FOUR

The morning unfolds in a haze of sunlight and warmth, the air alive with the scent of coffee and maple syrup. You’re tucked into one of the rattan chairs with Dae and Yeri, your legs curled up beneath you as you cradle a mug of coffee. The villa feels slower today, the kind of quiet that makes you forget the world beyond its stone walls.

The boys are scattered across the terrace—Joshua stretched out on a lounger with a book, Theo and Nic lazing in chairs nearby. Nic’s head is tilted back, his face toward the sun, his posture uncharacteristically relaxed.

Dae glances at you over the rim of her mug, her expression curious. “So… things between you and Nic seem a little less… icy today.”

Your heart skips at the observation, though you try not to show it. “It’s nothing,” you murmur, shrugging as casually as you can manage. “We just… talked a little last night.”

Yeri leans forward, her interest piqued. “Talked? Like, really talked?”

“Not really,” you say quickly, taking a sip of your coffee. “Just enough to make it less weird, I guess.”

Dae hums, clearly unsatisfied. “And?”

You glance toward Nic without meaning to. He’s still lounging, his face unreadable, but the memory of last night lingers—his voice, the softness in his eyes, the way he’d apologized without trying to make excuses. It had felt… different.

“And it’s fine,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “We’re fine.”

Yeri smirks. “Sure you are.”

Before you can protest, Mingyu strides onto the terrace, a triumphant grin plastered across his face. He’s balancing a platter piled high with golden pancakes in one hand and a bowl of syrup in the other. “Breakfast is served,” he declares proudly, setting the food down on the table in the center of the group.

“About time,” Theo groans, already reaching for a plate.

“Hey, perfection takes time,” Mingyu shoots back, snagging a pancake for himself before flopping into a chair.

You grab one as well, drizzling it lightly with syrup. The first bite is warm, fluffy, and just sweet enough to feel indulgent. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” you say, glancing at Mingyu. “These are good.”

He beams. “I accept your praise.”

Even Nic chimes in, his voice filled with rare levity. “I hate to admit it, but these might be the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

Mingyu looks genuinely pleased, throwing an exaggerated bow in Nic’s direction. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as the highest compliment.”

Nic doesn’t respond, too focused on his plate, but the easy smile on his face is impossible to miss.

Dae nudges you gently with her elbow, her voice low. “Look at him. It’s like pancakes cured his bad mood.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Maybe I should’ve just offered him pancakes five years ago.”

Dae snorts into her coffee, and Yeri joins in, her laugh a bright, unrestrained sound that makes you smile despite yourself.

The rest of the morning is filled with the kind of light, easy chatter that feels like a reprieve. Mingyu laps up the compliments, Joshua ribs him about his “culinary aspirations,” and even Nic seems lighter, his usual edges softened by the warmth of the day. And though you tell yourself you’re not watching him, you catch yourself glancing his way more often than you’d like, your heart tugging in a way you’re not quite ready to admit.

Before long, Dae ushered everyone toward the cars, her excitement contagious. “Alright, folks, next stop: a winery I found just outside of town. Trust me, it’s adorable, and the wine’s supposed to be incredible.”

Mingyu fell into step beside you as you climbed into one of the cars his tone teasing. “You’re not one of those people who pretends to know what ‘hints of oak’ means, are you?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “Please, I barely know the difference between red and white.”

He smirked, leaning in just slightly. “Good. That means I get to teach you a thing or two.”

“Lucky me,” you quipped, trying not to notice the way Nic, sitting just behind you, shifted slightly in his seat, his gaze flicking between the two of you.

When you arrived at the winery, the view stole your breath. Rolling hills stretched out in every direction, the vines bathed in golden sunlight. The group gathered near the tasting room, Dae already chatting animatedly with one of the hosts.

As the first round of glasses was handed out, Mingyu sidled up to you again, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To learning the fine art of wine tasting. Stick with me, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

“Is that right?” you asked, amused.

“Absolutely,” he said, his grin wide. “Step one: swirl dramatically. Bonus points if you look like you’re solving the mysteries of the universe.”

You laughed, swirling your glass with exaggerated flair. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” he said, tipping his glass toward you.

Nic, who had been standing nearby, cleared his throat lightly, stepping closer to join the conversation. “Or,” he interjected, his tone even, “you could just enjoy it without the theatrics. Not everything needs to be a performance.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What’s the fun in that?”

The three of you shared a laugh, the moment settling into something easy but charged. You caught Nic’s gaze briefly, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you before Mingyu nudged your arm gently, pulling your attention back to him.

The rest of the tasting continued in a similar rhythm—Mingyu’s playful banter, Nic hovering close enough to remind you of his presence, and you, caught somewhere in between, savoring the warmth of the day and the strange comfort of old wounds slowly beginning to heal.

As the tasting wound down, Dae—always a step ahead—waved everyone toward a narrow set of stairs tucked behind the winery. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder, her excitement infectious. “The host said there’s a rooftop up here. Best view of the sunset in the region.”

The group followed, glasses in hand, and you emerged onto a rustic rooftop scattered with mismatched chairs and weathered tables. Above, the sky had begun to glow with shades of gold and blush, casting the surrounding hills in a warm, dreamy light.

As the sun dips lower, bathing the rooftop in a golden glow, you and Dae find yourselves alone again, tucked into the corner of the cushioned bench with the best view of the vineyard. Mingyu’s laughter echoes somewhere off to the side, his voice blending with the others as the group lingers over the last of the wine. You tilt your head back against the seat, staring at the streaks of orange and pink across the sky.

Dae nudges your leg with hers. “So… Mingyu.”

You groan, turning to give her an incredulous look. “Oh, not you too.”

She grins, unfazed. “What? I’m just saying, he’s been glued to your side all day. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “He’s just being friendly. That’s how he is.”

Dae raises an eyebrow, her tone playful but pointed. “Friendly, sure. But come on, he’s keen, and you know it.”

You shake your head, exhaling a long breath. “He doesn’t even know me, Dae. It’s not like that.”

Her expression softens, and she leans back slightly, studying you. “Okay, fine. Then what is it?”

You pause, your gaze drifting toward the group. Mingyu is mid-conversation with Yeri and Theo, his smile as bright and easy as ever. For a moment, you feel the familiar comfort of his presence—the lightness he brings, the ease of being near him.

“He reminds me of… how things were with Nic,” you admit quietly, your voice almost lost in the rustling breeze. “Back when it was simple. Just the two of us, in our little bubble, with no expectations. The stupid jokes, the way he always felt just close enough to put me at ease. It’s like…” You hesitate, trying to find the right words. “It’s like I’m holding on to that feeling through Mingyu. Not on purpose, but—it’s there.”

Dae doesn’t reply right away. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, more serious. “So what do you actually want?”

The question makes you stiffen, and you glance at her, brow furrowing. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” she says patiently, shifting to face you fully. “Let me make it easier for you. If this week ends and you and Nic go back to your separate lives—if you go another five years, or maybe forever, having nothing to do with each other—would that make you happy? Would you be content with that?”

The question hits you like a punch to the stomach, and your breath catches. The thought of never seeing Nic again, of walking away from this week without even a shred of closure or connection, sends a hollow ache through your chest. You swallow hard, staring at your hands.

“No,” you whisper, the word heavier than you expected.

Dae nods, as if she already knew the answer. “Then maybe you need to start building a bridge, rather than burning it.”

Her words settle over you, their weight undeniable. You glance back toward the group, your gaze lingering on Nic. He’s leaning back in his chair, listening to something Joshua’s saying, but there’s a distant tension in his expression that you recognize all too well.

You take a shaky breath, Dae’s advice echoing in your mind. Maybe it’s time to stop running from the past and start figuring out how to face it.

Dae’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, her tone both gentle and insistent. “All you’ve wanted this entire time was some answers, right?”

You nod slowly, the knot in your chest tightening as you glance toward Nic again.

“Then maybe it’s time you go and get them,” she continues, leaning forward slightly. “You might not totally hate what you find, is all I’m saying.”

Her words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, all you can do is sit with them, your pulse thrumming in your ears. You know she’s right. You’ve spent so much time running circles in your own mind, replaying what happened, questioning every moment, every word, every feeling. The answers you’ve been searching for aren’t going to fall into your lap—they’re sitting a few feet away, leaning back in a wicker chair with a glass of wine in hand.

But the idea of crossing that invisible line, of asking Nic to meet you halfway, feels terrifying. What if you don’t like what you find? What if his reasons—his answers—aren’t enough to fill the hollow spaces he left behind?

Still, Dae’s gaze doesn’t waver, her confidence in you steady and unshakable. “You’re not going to figure it out by sitting here, you know,” she says, her voice softer now. “Go talk to him. You’re braver than you think.”

You hesitate, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Finally, you draw in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you meet her eyes.

“Maybe,” you murmur, a flicker of determination breaking through the uncertainty. “Maybe you’re right.”

Dae smiles, leaning back with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Of course I’m right. Now, go.”

You sigh, dragging your hands down your face in exasperation. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Today has been too long, and I’m tired.”

Dae arches an eyebrow at you, her arms crossing loosely over her chest. “Okay,” she says slowly, the word drawn out like she’s testing it on her tongue. “Do it tomorrow. But you must actually do it. Don’t just say it and then decide you’re better off avoiding it entirely.”

Her tone is firmer now, but it’s not sharp. It’s grounded in a kind of steady care that only Dae can manage. She’s not pushing you for the sake of pushing; she’s doing it because she knows you need it. Because she knows you.

You let out a low groan, tilting your head back to stare at the fading blue of the sky. “Why do you have to be so relentless?”

“Because I know you,” Dae replies, deadpan, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You’ll talk yourself in circles until the week’s over, and then you’ll leave here thinking it’s easier to let it all stay broken. But I also know that’s not what you want.”

She’s right—of course, she’s right—but the idea of acknowledging that aloud makes your stomach twist. “I’m not running for the hills,” you mutter, your tone defensive but lacking bite.

“Not yet,” Dae says with a faint smirk. Then she softens again, her expression gentling. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but you owe it to yourself to at least try. And if you don’t…” She shrugs. “Well, I’ll just keep bugging you about it. Every. Single. Day.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” she quips, a playful grin tugging at her lips before she leans back in her chair.

The thing is, she’s not wrong. You do need someone to keep you grounded, to hold you accountable when your instincts tell you to retreat. And deep down, you know she’s the exact person to do it.

“Alright,” you say finally, your voice quieter now. “Tomorrow. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Dae’s grin widens, and she gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up. “That’s my girl. Now, drink your wine and relax. You’ve got one more evening to psych yourself up.”

After Dae’s talk, you’d thought maybe you could relax—enjoy the final stretch of the day, give yourself some peace before tomorrow. But instead, you’re stuck in the quicksand of your own thoughts, sinking deeper with every passing minute.

In the shower, you’d mapped it all out: what you’d say, what Nic might say in return. You planned for every possibility, every version of him that could show up. The defensive Nic. The remorseful Nic. The version of him who might even still be indifferent. What would you say to that Nic? You played the scenes in your head on repeat, fine-tuning your retorts, overanalyzing his potential expressions.

By the time you crawl into bed, your chest is tight, your limbs restless. You turn over once, twice, then a dozen times more, trying to find a position that feels less suffocating. The air in the room feels still, like it’s waiting for something, and you hate it.

What if he doesn’t give you the answers you want? Worse, what if he does? What if the things you’ve been holding onto for so long crumble under the weight of an explanation?

The clock on your phone ticks past midnight, and your mind is still racing. You picture Nic as he was this afternoon, stretched out on the grass, laughing at one of Joshua’s jokes. You picture him at the lake, sitting beside you, his voice low and careful as he apologized. You picture him five years ago, standing in the doorway of your shared dorm room for the last time, his silhouette etched into your memory like a scar.

What could he possibly say tomorrow to make any of it make sense?

You flip your pillow over, searching for the cool side, as if that will somehow quiet your thoughts. It doesn’t.

Instead, you start running through scenarios again, like rewinding a tape. Every question you might ask him, every possible answer he could give. How would you react if he said he was scared? If he said he didn’t know what he wanted back then? If he said he still doesn’t know? What would you say if he turned it all back on you?

You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion creeping into the edges of your body but refusing to take hold. You feel like you’re arguing with a ghost in your own head, spiraling until you can’t make sense of anything anymore.

Finally, when the weight of your thoughts becomes too much to bear, your body wins over your mind. The edges of your consciousness blur, your breathing slows, and sleep pulls you under, not gently, but out of sheer necessity.

DAY FIVE

The day begins before you’re ready for it.

Your eyes flutter open, and the weight hits you all at once—the anxiety pooling in your stomach like cold lead. It’s the same feeling you get when you’re preparing to stand on a stage, the audience waiting for you to stumble. The same feeling you get when a patient walks in with a case you know will test every ounce of your skill. Except this time, it’s worse. This time, it’s Nic.

You lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as the early morning light filters through the curtains, feeling every ounce of your unease wrap around your chest like a vice. It takes you right back to college, to that night when everything fell apart. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips brushing your forehead, hear the quiet resignation in his voice as he said goodbye. The memory alone is enough to make you feel hollow.

When you finally get up, you’re quieter than usual. The group gathers for breakfast—coffee brewing, light chatter filling the space—but you barely pick at your toast. You sit on the edge of conversation, offering the occasional hum or nod but contributing little else.

Joshua notices first. He always does.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low enough that only you can hear.

You glance at him, startled out of your daze. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you murmur, but even you can hear how unconvincing you sound.

He doesn’t press, but his worry lingers in the way his gaze flickers back to you every few minutes.

By midday, it’s obvious you’re not yourself. At lunch, Joshua tries to pull you into a conversation about an old story from college—something about a prank Dae once pulled on him—but you zone out halfway through, staring into the middle distance. When he calls your name, you blink at him, startled, as if you’ve just surfaced from underwater.

“I’m fine,” you insist again when Joshua frowns at you.

But you’re not fine. You feel like your insides are twisted in knots, your stomach churning with a mix of dread and anticipation. You’re acutely aware of Nic’s presence—how he occasionally glances your way with a furrowed brow, as if he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong but doesn’t know how to ask.

At one point, you start to think you might actually be sick. Your palms are clammy, and your chest feels tight. It’s Dae who pulls you aside after lunch, sensing the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“I found a steakhouse,” she says, her tone light but her gaze sharp. “Josh and I were thinking of taking a few of us there tonight. Theo and India have plans with some friends, so it’ll just be a small group. What do you think?”

You nod automatically, grateful for the distraction.

Dae eyes you for a moment longer, then offers a small smile. “It’ll be fun. You need a good meal—and maybe some wine.”

She doesn’t say it outright, but you know what she’s doing. She’s pulling you out of your own head, giving you something else to focus on. And for the first time all day, the tension in your chest loosens—just a little.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a haze. You busy yourself with menial tasks, anything to keep your hands occupied and your thoughts at bay. But the anxiety never fully leaves, sitting heavy in your stomach like a storm cloud on the horizon.

You’re slouched on the love seat, a book in your lap that you’re not really reading. The pages might as well be blank for all the attention you’re paying them. Your fingers trail idly over the edges, lost in your thoughts, the tension in your body building with each minute that passes. Your stomach churns with the same nervous energy you’ve been battling all day, the anxiety too thick to shake off.

You don’t hear him at first.

It’s not until the soft creak of the door pulls you from your thoughts that you look up and find Joshua standing in the doorway, his arms crossed loosely as he leans against the frame. His brow is furrowed, eyes gentle but with a hint of concern.

“You’ve been on edge all day,” he observes, voice quiet, like he’s trying not to startle you.

You don’t respond immediately, not sure what to say. You can feel the weight of the conversation you know is coming, the one you’ve been dreading, hanging over you.

Joshua steps closer, his voice softening as he drops down to sit on the arm of the love seat, next to you. “Dae mentioned you were planning to talk to Nic… seriously talk to him. How’s that going?”

A sigh slips from your lips, the sound thick with frustration and uncertainty. You’ve barely been able to think about anything else, and now that the time is actually here, your mind feels like it’s running in circles. You’ve prepared a thousand things to say, and yet none of them seem right anymore.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you admit quietly, your fingers tapping against the book absently.

Joshua studies you for a moment, the corner of his mouth turning up in a rueful smile. “I guess I can’t pretend to be Nic,” he says, his voice teasing but warm, as if trying to bring some lightness into the air. “But maybe I can help you figure out what to say.”

You let out a small, dry laugh, shaking your head. “You’re too much of a softie for this to work.”

“I am,” he agrees easily, not offended in the slightest. “But I know both of you. And I care about both of you. I don’t like seeing you two stuck.” He pauses for a moment, the weight of his words settling between you. “I just want you to be okay, y’know?”

You look down at your hands, the weight of his sincerity making something heavy shift in your chest. “I know,” you murmur. “I just… I’m not sure I know how to fix any of it. It’s so complicated, Josh.”

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, I know it is. But maybe the first step is just being honest. With him. With yourself. There’s no easy way to do this, but you’ve got to start somewhere.”

He pauses again, considering you for a long moment before speaking again. “What is it you need from him? What’s the one thing you’ve been waiting to hear from him all these years?”

You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. It’s so straightforward, yet it feels like something you’ve been afraid to admit for a long time.

“I just want to know why he left,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to know why he couldn’t be honest with me. Why he just… shut me out.”

Joshua’s gaze is steady, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Okay. So that’s where you start. You need to say that. Don’t sugarcoat it, don’t try to make it easier for him. Just tell him how it felt. And let him answer.”

You nod slowly, the words hanging in the air between you. For the first time that day, you feel a flicker of clarity, a small shift in your perspective. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be perfect, but maybe it’s enough to begin.

Joshua gives you a small, reassuring smile. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

You manage a tight smile back, the pressure in your chest lightening just a little. “Thanks, Josh. For being here.”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Always, you know that.” Then he stands up, patting you on the shoulder. “I’ll be around if you need me. But you’ve got this.”

You watch him walk away, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You might not have all the answers yet, but you feel a little more ready to face what comes next.

The steakhouse is tucked into a cobblestone corner of the small Italian town, the kind of place that practically begs you to stay awhile. Its warm glow spills out into the narrow streets, blending with the soft hum of a nearby fountain. The scent of garlic and rosemary wafts from the open kitchen, mingling with the quiet hum of conversation and the clink of wine glasses. It’s intimate in the way that wraps around you like a soft blanket, and for a brief moment, it tempers the anxious edge that’s been eating away at you all day.

Joshua and Nic are seated at one end of the long table, across from each other. Joshua is in his element, throwing lighthearted jabs and pulling Nic into a story about some trip they took years ago. You notice that Nic seems… lighter. His laugh comes easier, and there’s a genuine warmth in his eyes that’s been missing for the last few days.

You, however, found yourself quieter than usual. The knot of nerves in your stomach hadn’t left, but the company and setting muted it into a low hum instead of the roaring wave it had been earlier.

Mingyu, ever attuned, seemed to notice your subdued energy. His usual flirtations softened into gentle humor, his tone warm and light when he spoke to you. “You didn’t order the steak well done, did you?” he teased with a faux scandalized expression, earning a small smile from you.

“Don’t worry,” you replied softly, poking at your potatoes. “I know better than to offend the chef’s sensibilities.”

Dae glanced your way a few times throughout dinner, her sharp eyes catching the moments you zoned out or stared a little too long at the flame of the candle in front of you. She didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you was pointed, as if to say: You know what you need to do.

The walk back to the villa was quieter than usual. You stuck close to Dae and Yeri, the three of you a little slower than the rest of the group, who were caught up in banter a few paces ahead.

Dae fell in step beside you, her voice low but direct. “So… are you going to talk to him, or what?”

The question hung in the crisp night air, sharp and slightly challenging.

“I’ll get to it,” you muttered, trying to deflect.

Dae stopped walking, her hand lightly gripping your arm to pause you too. “No, you won’t just ‘get to it.’ You’re going to do it. Tonight. Stop putting it off.”

You swallowed hard, her words piercing through your hesitations like a blade. She wasn’t wrong, and the accountability in her tone forced you to confront the truth: you had been stalling.

By the time you reached the villa, the group began to splinter off, some heading to their rooms, others lingering to chat in the living room. Your heart hammered as you lingered near the staircase, watching Nic head toward the back terrace with a glass of wine in hand.

You took a deep breath, steadied yourself, and followed him.

“Nic?” you called softly, your voice carrying into the quiet.

He turned, surprised to see you there. “Hey,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly as he set his glass down. “What’s up?”

You crossed your arms, the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Can we talk?”

Nic’s expression softened, his head tilting slightly as he took you in. “Of course,” he said gently, motioning to the seating area nearby. “Let’s sit.”

The terrace was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the breeze through the trees and the distant chirp of crickets. The villa lights cast a warm glow over the stone pathways, but you barely noticed any of it as you perched on the edge of the rattan lounger, your hands fidgeting in your lap. Nic sat beside you, his posture more relaxed than yours, though his fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair—an old tell of his own nerves.

You glanced at him briefly before your eyes darted back to your hands, picking at the skin around your nails. The anxious habit was one you’d never quite outgrown, and now, with your pulse hammering in your ears, it was back in full force.

Nic watched you for a moment, his voice breaking the silence. “You look like you’ve been carrying something heavy all day,” he said, softly enough that it didn’t feel like pressure, but firmly enough that you knew he wasn’t going to let you brush it off. “Take your time, though. I’m here.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to exhale slowly. The words were lodged somewhere between your chest and your throat, an awkward lump of anxiety and frustration. You knew what you wanted—closure, answers—but the act of asking for it felt monumental.

“You told me the other night that I could talk to you,” you started, your voice quieter than you’d intended. You cleared your throat and straightened slightly, forcing yourself to look at him. “That if there was something I wanted to say, I could. And… I need to.”

Nic didn’t respond immediately, but he nodded, his dark eyes steady on yours. The openness in his expression—no walls, no defensive edge—made you feel both reassured and exposed.

“I’ve been sitting on these questions for five years, Nic,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Five years of trying to figure out what the hell happened between us. And I—I need to know. I can’t leave here without at least trying to make sense of it.”

You paused, searching his face for reluctance or discomfort, but there was none. His expression remained steady, his head dipping in a subtle nod of encouragement.

“Okay,” he said simply. “Ask. I’ll answer as best as I can.”

You swallowed hard, gripping your hands together to keep them still. The anxious niggle in your stomach was back in full force, sharp and unrelenting.

“Why did you leave?” you asked, the words breaking the silence like a snapped string. “Not just after graduation, but… us. Why did you leave us?”

Nic’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips parting as if to respond, but then he hesitated. You saw the flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret—before he rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t care,” he started, his voice low, steady. “I need you to know that first. I cared so much it scared the hell out of me.”

You swallowed, trying to control the lump that had formed in your throat. “What were you so scared of, Nic?” The words came out almost too quietly, but you couldn’t stop them. “I cared too. It wasn’t just about losing the guy I was sleeping with—I lost my best friend, my confidant. And you—” You stopped yourself, trying to steady your breathing. “You never even tried to reach out. Why? Why didn’t you even try?”

You saw the flicker of regret pass over his face, and your heart sank. You had imagined so many answers, but none of them were quite like this. Still, you pushed on, the hurt and confusion boiling over. “I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me. I thought I’d just be a nuisance to you.”

Nic’s jaw clenched as he exhaled, eyes dropping briefly to the ground. Then, he looked up, meeting your gaze again with a rawness you hadn’t seen before. “I loved you,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I love you. And that’s exactly why I shut you out. I thought if we got too involved, if I let you get too close, I’d be asking you to take a risk you didn’t deserve. I couldn’t ask you to follow me—couldn’t ask you to uproot your life for me when I wasn’t sure if I could make anything work.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath you, the air sucked out of your lungs as you processed what he’d just said. The weight of it settled in your stomach like a stone, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt trapped in your chest.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you exhaled slowly, as if trying to catch your breath. “You loved me,” you whispered, almost too quietly to hear yourself. “You loved me, and you just… walked away?”

Nic’s eyes searched yours, desperate for understanding. “I never wanted to hurt you, not like that. I was trying to protect you from something I wasn’t sure I could give you. And that just made everything worse.”

“So I deserved to be shunned, instead?” Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, a mix of frustration and hurt. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Nic.” You take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything you never said until now. “I was grown then, and I’m grown now. I would’ve fought for you. We would’ve worked it out.”

Nic’s face tightens with frustration, but there’s something softer beneath it. He runs a hand through his hair, gaze turning away for a moment. When he speaks again, it’s a near whisper. “I don’t know what else I can say, okay? I can’t take it back, and God knows if I could, I would. If we could go back, and you told me you loved me, I would’ve said I loved you too, and you’re right—we would’ve worked it out.”

The weight of his words presses down on you like a boulder, but you can’t shake the feeling that it’s too late for anything to change. You rise from your seat, feeling the impulse to put distance between you and him, as if the cold night air could somehow steady your racing heart. Each step toward the edge of the terrace feels like a small attempt to escape, to regain some control.

The wind brushes against your skin, cold and biting, but it does little to quell the heat of the tears that are falling down your cheeks, each one stinging more than the last. You wipe them away, but they keep coming, and the cool air only makes it worse, as if everything inside you is unraveling in front of him.

Nic doesn’t follow you right away. He stays where he is, giving you space, yet you feel the heaviness of his stare on your back, a silent plea for you to turn around and speak, to say something more.

The silence between you stretches on. The words you’re both avoiding hang thick in the air. It’s suffocating, unbearable.

Finally, you turn back toward him, your voice quiet but firm, almost like a challenge. “What do you want, Nic?”

The question lingers in the air, sharp and direct. You’ve asked yourself that question a thousand times, but now, finally, you’re asking him. You want to know if this is just a moment of guilt, a fleeting regret, or if there’s something more. Something real. Something that could make everything worth it.

There’s a pause—a moment where the only sound is the faint hum of the villa settling in the night.

“I don’t know,” he says softly at first, the words unsure, as though he’s still grappling with his own heart, trying to understand the depth of what he’s feeling. But then, his chest rises with a slow, deliberate breath. His eyes lock onto yours, steady and raw. “No, that’s not true.”

Your heart beats faster, and in the weight of the silence, you can feel the shift. It’s as though he’s finally letting go of whatever wall he’d been holding up all this time.

“I want you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I want another chance. I want us. And I’m not gonna back out again. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m in this for the long haul. I won’t run when it gets hard. Not this time.”

The words hit you like a gust of wind, each one pulling you deeper into the current of everything you’d once wanted. But a part of you—an aching, cautious part—hesitates.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. You want to believe him. You want to let yourself go, to believe in the possibility of something real again. But you’re not sure. Not yet.

“Why does it matter, Nic?” Your voice cracks, the frustration spilling over, mixing with the raw ache in your chest. “At the end of the week, you’ll go back to LA and I’ll go back to New York. And we’ll both be in fucking shambles again for no good reason. I’m buying into the practice next year. I’m not gonna follow you this time.”

Your words echo between you, the raw truth hanging in the air. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re scared. You’re scared of doing this again, of letting yourself fall for him only for him to leave again. You don’t know if you can risk that.

He’s silent for a moment, his face unreadable. But then, out of nowhere, he blurts it out, his voice rushing forward like it’s been desperate to escape.

“I’m moving back.”

The words are out before he can fully process them. His eyes widen with the weight of what he’s said, and the air grows heavier, the silence thickening between you. It’s like the ground beneath you both has shifted, and neither of you knows exactly what to do with the revelation.

You blink, your mind struggling to catch up. “What?” Your voice shakes, both in disbelief and the sudden hope that flickers to life, only to be quickly masked by fear.

“My firm is opening another branch in Manhattan.” Nic sits straighter, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, almost as if the weight of his words is finally catching up with him. “I put my hand up to get it up and running. I get back next month.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Nic stands, his voice steady but softer now as he searched your face. “Because I need you to know I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Whatever that looks like for you—taking it slow, starting over… I’ll even let you beat the brakes off me in Central Park, if that’s what you need.”

His jaw tightened, and his gaze softened as he added, “It’s not about what I want anymore. It’s about what you need—what you want. I just want the chance to try, to prove I can be better for you.”

You stared at Nic, his words hitting you like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from your chest. He was standing so close, the intensity in his eyes almost too much to bear.

“I can’t,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is too much. I just… I can’t deal with this right now.”

Nic’s face fell, but he didn’t try to stop you as you stepped back, putting space between the two of you. “I understand,” he said quietly, his tone steady but tinged with sadness.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, the weight of his confession pressing heavily on your shoulders. You made your way back to your room, closing the door softly behind you before sinking onto the edge of the bed. The air in the room felt too still, too suffocating, as your mind raced with questions and emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

How could you trust him again? Could you even let yourself hope that things might be different this time?

The questions circled in your mind as you curled up on the bed, your thoughts too loud to allow for any real clarity.

A quiet knock at the door pulled you from your spiral, and before you could respond, the door creaked open. Dae peeked in, her warm, familiar smile softening as she took in your state. “Hey,” she said gently. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, too drained to say much. She slipped into the room and crossed over to you, settling beside you on the bed. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you, and you leaned into her, letting the tears that had been building all day finally fall.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “This was supposed to be your week, and I feel like I’m ruining it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dae said firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You’re not ruining anything. You’ve been carrying a lot for a long time, and it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. That’s what friends are for.”

You wiped at your face, exhaling shakily. “Nic said he’s moving back to New York. And that he still loves me. I don’t know what to do, Dae. What if he runs again? What if I let myself hope, and he just breaks me all over again?”

Dae’s expression softened further, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I need to tell you something. I overheard Nic and Joshua on the phone a few months ago. Joshua was helping him find a place in Manhattan because he knew Nic was planning to move back. He didn’t want to say anything until it was certain, but Nic’s been serious about coming back for a while now.”

You blinked at her, processing her words. “You knew?”

“I didn’t want to pressure you or plant any ideas in your head,” Dae admitted. “But for what it’s worth, I think he means it. He’s always regretted how things ended with you, and I really believe he’s willing to try this time.”

You sighed, your heart aching with the weight of your indecision. “What if it’s not enough? What if I let myself believe in him again, and it just falls apart?”

Dae squeezed your hand, her gaze steady. “Baby, I don’t have a crystal ball. I can’t answer that for you. But I do know that you’ve always been strong, and whatever you decide, you’ll be okay. If you’re willing to take the chance, though… maybe it’s worth it.”

Her words lingered as you sat together in the quiet, her arms a steady comfort as you tried to make sense of your tangled emotions.

Joshua’s entrance broke the stillness, his familiar warmth filling the room as he set a glass of water on the nightstand. He eased into the chair beside the bed, leaning back in that effortlessly casual way he always did, though his eyes flicked between you and Dae with quiet concern.

“Alright,” he began lightly, breaking the tension. “Which one of you do I have to yell at first?”

A small laugh escaped you, watery but genuine. “Definitely me. I’ve been the walking definition of a mess.”

Dae rolled her eyes, her arm still draped around your shoulders. “Don’t listen to her, Josh. She actually apologised to me for ruining our wedding week.”

Joshua’s head snapped toward you in mock offense. “You what?” he said, his voice exaggeratedly incredulous. “You think you could ruin this week? Please. It would take something a lot more catastrophic than your emotions for that to happen.”

“I mean it,” you muttered, heat creeping into your face. “I feel like I’ve been dragging all my baggage in here when this is supposed to be your time.”

“First of all,” Joshua said, holding up a finger, “you’re family, and family gets to bring their baggage—especially when it’s that guy,” he added with a sly smirk. “Second, you think Dae and I don’t love you, flaws and all? You’re practically my younger sister. Trust me, this week is better with you here, even if you’re crying in my guest room.”

The words, and the easy affection behind them, hit you square in the chest. Your lips twitched into a small smile despite yourself. “You guys are way too nice to me.”

“Absolutely not,” Dae interjected, squeezing your hand. “We love you. No qualifiers, no conditions. And you apologising? That just makes me want to shake you, but like, in a very loving way.”

Joshua grinned, clearly relieved to see a hint of your usual spark. “Yeah, you’re banned from apologising from now on, okay? Especially when it’s my fault for inviting Nic’s dumbass in the first place.”

You laughed, the sound rough but genuine. “You two make it sound so simple.”

“It’s because we’re geniuses,” Joshua deadpanned, leaning forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “But seriously, we’ve got you. No matter what. If you need a moment, take it. If you want to talk, yell, cry—whatever—you’re not going to scare us off. And Nic? He’s not going anywhere either.”

Dae gave an approving nod. “We’ve got your back, whatever you decide. But if it helps, we both think Nic is serious this time. He’s never stopped caring about you, and we’ve seen him wrestle with how badly he screwed up. He knows what he lost.”

Joshua’s voice softened, though it retained its teasing edge. “I mean, it’s hard not to love you. Even when you’re being dramatic.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your heart warm at their combined support. “I don’t know what I want yet,” you admitted, feeling the weight of the uncertainty settle over you again.

“You’ll figure it out,” Joshua said simply, standing and ruffling your hair lightly as he passed. “But just so we’re clear—you can take all the time you need, and we’re not letting you off the hook for being in our lives. Got it?”

The tenderness in his voice, mixed with his usual humor, steadied you. Dae’s arm tightened around you, and for the first time in days, the knot in your chest loosened just a little. You didn’t have all the answers, but for now, you had them. And that was enough.

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

The dental lab was a ghost town at this hour, the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the quiet buzz of the sterilizers the only signs of life. Everyone else had long since packed up, leaving you and Nic alone amidst the neatly arranged tools and rows of workstations. The air was crisp, almost too cool, but you didn’t mind; the silence felt like a cocoon.

You were bent over a set of mock impressions, the tiny details demanding all of your focus. Or at least, they should have. Instead, your attention kept slipping every time you caught Nic watching you from across the room. He’d been “studying” for the past hour, but the way his chair creaked as he shifted, the way his pen twirled lazily between his fingers—it was clear his focus was anywhere but his notes.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that thing,” he finally said, his voice low and teasing.

You glanced up, your heart giving a small, familiar flutter at the sight of him leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out, his dark eyes heavy-lidded but alert. “Maybe if someone actually studied, they’d have less time to critique my technique.”

“Maybe,” he said, standing and stretching in one fluid motion, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach. “Or maybe,” he continued, making his way over to you, “someone needs to be reminded to take a break.”

“Nic…” You meant it as a warning, but it came out breathless, your voice betraying you before he even reached your workstation.

He didn’t stop. He stepped behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hands found the edge of the desk, caging you in, and his breath skimmed the shell of your ear.

“Take a break,” he murmured, his voice rough and coaxing, as if it wasn’t a suggestion but a plea.

Your fingers froze over the plaster mold in your hands. You could feel him everywhere—his presence, his warmth, his scent. He leaned in closer, just enough to let his lips graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and your grip faltered.

“Nic…” This time it was less of a warning and more of a surrender.

He turned your chair toward him, his hands firm but not rough, and knelt slightly, bringing his face level with yours. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might say something. Instead, he just kissed you—slow at first, but with a mounting desperation that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands flew to his chest, not to push him away but to anchor yourself. He kissed you like he couldn’t help himself, like he’d been holding back all evening and had finally given in. His tongue brushed against yours, and a soft sound escaped you, making him groan low in his throat.

“I can’t focus when you’re around,” he admitted against your lips, his hands sliding up to cup your face. “Scrub pants do you wonders, you know that?”

“If you get my after hours access revoked, you’ll be a dead man,” you muttered, but your words lacked any real bite, especially when he kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, as though he was savoring the moment.

Before you knew it, you were standing, the chair pushed back and forgotten. He guided you to the edge of the desk, lifting you effortlessly onto it, his hands firm on your thighs. The cool metal against your skin was a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressing against yours.

You tilted your head back, letting him trail kisses down your neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was something in the way he touched you, kissed you—like he couldn’t get enough, like he was memorizing every inch of you for a moment when he might not have the chance again.

“Nic,” you whispered, your voice catching as his lips found the hollow of your throat.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like yearning. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you pulled him back to you, letting the kiss deepen, letting it drown out the world. The lab, the tools, the looming exams—they all fell away. All that mattered was him, the way his hands framed your face, the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing he could remember.

TWO WEEKS LATER

The warm light of the setting sun filtered through the cracked dorm window, casting golden streaks across the rumpled sheets. The faint chatter of students outside was barely audible over the hum of the fan, and the air was heavy with the scent of summer and sweat.

Nic lay sprawled on his back, his arm tucked beneath his head, his other hand tracing idle circles on your thigh. He was relaxed, his breathing steady, his dark hair still damp from exertion. You lay beside him, your heart still racing—not just from what you’d just done, but from the way he looked. The lazy smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth, the sharp angles of his jawline softened by the golden hour light, the slight sheen of his skin.

God, he was beautiful.

Your eyes lingered on the slope of his nose, the way his lashes fanned across his cheek as he blinked slowly. It wasn’t just his looks, though; it was everything about him. The way he teased you endlessly but always had your back. The way his laugh made your chest feel like it might explode. The way he touched you, like you were something precious.

The thought consumed you, spreading like a wildfire through your chest. You loved him. You didn’t know when it had happened—maybe it had been gradual, or maybe it had been all at once—but you loved him, wholly and irrevocably.

And the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I love you.”

The room seemed to still. The lazy patterns Nic had been tracing froze, and his head turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“What?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the admission crashing down on you. There was no taking it back now. “I said I love you,” you repeated, softer this time.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her stared at you, totally blank for a few beats. “You… You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

Your stomach twisted, and you pushed yourself up to meet his gaze. “Yes, I do. How could I not?”

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something guarded. “Come on,” he said lightly, a weak smile tugging at his lips. “We’re just… having fun, right? Blowing off some steam before everything changes.”

The casualness in his tone hit you like a punch to the gut. “Just having fun?” you echoed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Nic rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I mean, we’re good at this, you know? No complications, no expectations.”

The ache in your chest deepened, but you forced yourself to nod, the pain silent and all-consuming. How could he not see it? you thought. How could he not feel it?

You wanted to argue, to tell him that it already was more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. Instead, you turned away from him, staring out the window. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Nic sighed softly behind you, but he didn’t say anything else. Eventually, his breathing evened out, and you knew he’d fallen asleep. But you lay awake, the ache in your chest growing with every passing moment.

When he woke hours later, the tension still hung thick in the air. Nic moved around the room quietly, gathering his things. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “See you later,” he murmured, and then he was gone.

Three days later, you walked into the library, the strap of your backpack digging into your shoulder. The quiet hum of hushed conversations and the rustle of pages greeted you as you made your way to your usual table. Joshua and Dae were already there, heads bent over their notes, but your heart sank when you saw Nic seated across from them, headphones in place.

He didn’t look up when you approached, but his posture stiffened ever so slightly.

“Hey!” Dae greeted you with her usual cheerfulness, sliding a chair out for you. “You’re late.”

“Got caught up,” you said shortly, avoiding Nic’s gaze as you sat down.

Joshua looked between the two of you, his brow furrowing. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Nic said at the same time you mumbled, “Yeah.”

The awkwardness was palpable. Dae’s smile faltered, and Joshua raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the tension.

Nic, seemingly determined to avoid any meaningful interaction, adjusted his headphones and focused on his laptop. You busied yourself with your notes, the silence between you louder than any words could have been.

The interaction that broke the tension was small, almost insignificant. Nic reached for a book that was just out of his reach, and his fingers brushed yours as you instinctively handed it to him. The contact was brief, but it was enough to make your stomach flip and your heart ache all over again.

“Thanks,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

Dae, who had been watching the exchange with growing concern, leaned in closer to you. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on?” she whispered.

You shook your head. “Not now,” you whispered back, your voice tight.

You and Dae lingered behind in the library, packing up your things in a heavy silence. Joshua and Nic had left a few minutes earlier, their quiet conversation trailing off as the door swung shut behind them.

Dae studied you carefully, her lips pursed in thought. “Okay, what is going on?”

You blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes, closing her laptop firmly. “You know exactly what I mean. You and Nic. A week ago, you were practically joined at the hip, and now you’re treating each other like strangers. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

Your stomach churned at the mention of his name, and you ducked your head, fiddling with the corner of one of your cue cards. “It’s nothing, Dae.”

“You’re such a shit liar,” she said, exasperated. “Josh and I aren’t blind, you know. We’ve noticed the way you’ve been avoiding each other, and it’s weird. You two were always… good to each other.”

Your chest tightened at her words, the memories flooding back unbidden. The way Nic used to pick up your favorite lunch without being asked. How he’d stay late at the lab just to be your volunteer when you needed someone for a prac exam. The way his hand always found the small of your back when you walked side by side.

“You were so good together,” Dae continued, her voice softening. “I mean, Josh and I worked it out ages ago that you were… you know.”

Your head snapped up, your heart pounding. “You knew?”

“Of course, we knew,” she said, smirking a little. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it. The way you’d look at each other, how you’d always find some excuse to sit next to him or how he’d hang on your every word. It was kind of sweet, actually. So we decided to let you guys have your thing. But now…” Her smile faded, replaced by concern. “Now it feels like you can’t even stand to be in the same room as him, and I have no idea why.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you. For a moment, you considered brushing it off again, but the knot in your chest tightened. You couldn’t keep this bottled up anymore.

“I told him I loved him,” you said quietly, the words barely above a whisper.

Dae froze, her eyes widening. “You what?”

You shifted uncomfortably, your voice trembling. “It just came out. We were in my dorm, and it was so… comfortable, you know? I wasn’t planning to say it, but I did. And he—” You broke off, your throat tightening.

Dae’s hands found yours, her brow furrowing. “And he what?”

“He brushed it off,” you said bitterly. “Said we were just friends blowing off steam. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like I didn’t mean anything.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “It’s been eating me alive all week, Dae. I thought… I thought we were more than that. It always felt like more. And now he’s just… gone. Like he doesn’t care at all.”

Dae was silent for a moment, her expression shifting between shock and anger. Finally, she let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand over her face. “That idiot.”

You blinked at her, startled by the venom in her tone.

“I mean it,” she said firmly. “Nic’s an idiot. Because there’s no way he didn’t care about you. Not with the way he looked at you. And now he’s just throwing it all away because… what? He’s scared?”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t even know. He hasn’t said a word to me since that night. He just… shut down.”

Dae’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could fix this for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just… I don’t know what to do, Dae.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “There’s something else,” she said carefully.

Your stomach sank. “What?”

“I overheard him and Josh talking a while ago,” she admitted. “Nic got offered an internship in L.A., some big shot criminal defense firm.”

The room seemed to tilt for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. “He’s leaving?”

“I think that’s why he’s been so distant,” she said quickly, her tone apologetic. “He probably didn’t know how to tell you.”

You stared at her, the weight of her words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “So he was just going to leave,” you said hollowly. “Without saying anything. Without… anything.”

Dae squeezed your hand tighter, her eyes brimming with sympathy. “I don’t know what he was thinking, but I do know this: Nic is an idiot, but he’s not heartless. He’s just… scared. Of what, I don’t know. But this doesn’t mean he didn’t care about you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. He made his choice.”

Dae hesitated, then pulled you into a tight hug. “I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need. And for the record, you didn’t deserve this. Not even a little.”

You buried your face in her shoulder, the tears finally spilling over. For the first time, you let yourself grieve the weight of what you’d lost—and the realization of what you might never have again.

After that day, everything changed. Nic stopped showing up to your study sessions altogether, leaving his usual spot at the table empty and the air heavier than it had ever been. Whenever Joshua invited him somewhere and Nic caught wind that you’d be there, he suddenly had plans he couldn’t cancel, excuses that sounded thinner each time they were shared.

The last time you saw him was at a graduation party a few weeks later. He’d stayed on the opposite side of the room the entire night, never once meeting your gaze. No apology. No explanation. Not even a simple well-wish. And just like that, he was gone.

Life moved on, as it always does. Joshua and Dae stayed in New York after graduation, rooting themselves in the city that had always felt like home to all of you. They kept their ties to Nic and to you, carefully navigating the distance and emotions that neither of you seemed ready to face.

They watched as you buried yourself in your studies, earning a coveted spot in a prestigious postgraduate program. They celebrated with you when you joined a prolific practice, one that would eventually make you one of the most sought-after specialists in the city.

And through it all, they watched you heal. Slowly, painfully, but bit by bit. They saw you piece yourself back together—brighter, sharper, stronger than before. But even as the years passed, the cracks remained, faint but unyielding, a quiet reminder of the part of yourself you’d once handed over to someone who hadn’t known how to hold it.

DAY SIX

The next morning, Mingyu found himself lingering by the villa’s breakfast table, his thoughts far from the casual chatter around him. He couldn’t shake the tension that had simmered between Nic and you the night before. It was clear that something more than just playful flirting had been behind your exchange, and he hadn’t fully understood the depth of the storm that had been brewing between you.

Josh, who had been quietly sipping his coffee, noticed Mingyu’s brooding expression and raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, man,” he commented, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “What’s going on?”

Mingyu stews for a few moments before sighing. “I overheard [Y/N] and Nic on the terrace last night. I didn’t realise how serious it was to them. She’s so lovely and he’s…I don’t know. He seems to care for her a lot, and I’m worried I might have made it worse.”

Joshua tilted his head, a sympathetic smile softening his expression. “There’s a lot to it, but trust me, it’s not your fault. You weren’t to know, and honestly? They probably needed a shove in the right direction.”

Mingyu frowned, leaning back in his seat as if trying to make sense of the tension he’d witnessed. “What happened between them, if you don’t mind me asking? I feel like I’m missing pieces.”

Josh hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting as if replaying memories in his mind. “Nic and I went to high school together, as you know. They met through me in college when Dae and I started seeing each other. The four of us were inseparable and Nic and her became close fast, and by senior year, they were basically best friends who happened to be sleeping together.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, surprised by how casually he mentioned it. Joshua caught his look and let out a dry laugh. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was obvious to everyone but them that it wasn’t just casual. The way they were together—it ran so much deeper than friends with benefits. I think they both knew it, but they were too scared to admit it.”

His voice softened, and a faint trace of sadness crept into his tone. “Then Nic got offered an internship in Los Angeles. It was a huge deal for him, but he didn’t know how to tell her. And before he could figure it out, she told him she loved him.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows shot up. “What did he do?”

Josh sighed, his lips pressing into a tight line. “He iced her out. Completely shut her down. I think he panicked—he was so scared of trying to rearrange his life for her that he just decided it’d be better to throw the towel in. We used to study together every Thursday, without fail and at some point he stopped showing up. If I invited him somewhere and he knew she would be there, suddenly he had other plans.”

Mingyu nodded slowly, piecing together the fragments of the story. “They seriously haven’t spoken since then?”

Josh shook his head, his expression pained. “No. And the worst part? Nic told me after he moved that he loved her too. He admitted it was the biggest mistake he’d ever made, but by then, the damage was done. She worked so hard to rebuild herself after he left. Dae made Nic promise not to reach out because she knew she needed time to heal. And she did heal, in her own way, but Nic broke her in ways that I don’t think even she could fully explain.”

Mingyu exhaled, his chest heavy with the weight of their history. “That’s… brutal.”

“It was,” Joshua agreed softly, his gaze distant. “And I don’t think she was just upset that he left. She was angry because he didn’t give her a choice. She would’ve fought for him if he’d made even the smallest effort to keep her in his life. But he didn’t. He ran.”

“And now?” Mingyu asked, his voice cautious.

Josh’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “Now, they’re grown up. They’re different people with the same wounds. If they want to fix it, they’re the only ones who can.”

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully, his mind whirring as he connected the dots. “You don’t think I made it worse?”

Joshua’s gaze snapped back to him, his smile warm and reassuring. “Please don’t feel responsible for their quarrels, Gyu. This isn’t on you. It’s their responsibility to fix what’s broken. You just got caught in the crossfire.”

“I still feel like I should apologise to her,” he said, his tone laced with guilt. “I didn’t mean to stir anything up.”

Josh tilted his head, considering him for a moment. “I don’t think it’ll hurt, but I promise, she won’t blame you. She’s very reasonable—when people deserve it.” His smile turned playful, teasing him just enough to ease the tension in his shoulders. “And you definitely deserve it.”

Mingyu chuckled softly, though his expression grew serious again. “She’s been through a lot, huh?”

Josh nodded. “She has. But she’s also strong, and she knows what she wants. If you do talk to her, just be honest. She’ll appreciate it.”

Later that morning, Mingyu finds you stretched out on the lawn with a book in hand, the golden light of the late morning sun casting a warm glow over the villa grounds. A slight breeze ruffles the pages of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, and you pause to smooth them out, your gaze focused but peaceful. The serene moment is a stark contrast to the charged energy of the past few days.

Mingyu approaches cautiously, hands stuffed into his pockets as if he’s unsure of how to start. “That’s pretty heavy reading for a vacation,” he says lightly, nodding toward the book as he comes to a stop a few feet away.

You glance up at him and offer a small smile. “Sometimes you need something grounding. Keeps your mind clear when things get… complicated.”

Mingyu winces, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, about that…” He hesitates, clearly weighing his words. “Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you.”

Setting the book aside, you sit up and gesture for him to take a seat on the grass beside you. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

He lowers himself down, resting his elbows on his knees. For a moment, he just stares out at the horizon, gathering his thoughts. “I wanted to apologise. For… well, for anything I said or did that might’ve made things more tense between you and Nic. I honestly had no idea about your history, and if I’d known…” He shakes his head. “I just feel like I might’ve put you in an uncomfortable position.”

You study him for a moment, then shake your head with a gentle smile. “Mingyu, you didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have known, and honestly, it’s not your responsibility to tiptoe around our mess. That’s on Nic and me to figure out.”

His expression softens, though the guilt lingers in his eyes. “Josh told me a bit more about what happened. I just feel like I walked into the middle of something that’s been brewing for years and accidentally stirred the pot.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe you did stir it a little, but sometimes things need to be stirred. It’s not like we were doing a great job of dealing with it on our own.” Your gaze drifts to the villa, where the weight of the past few days still lingers. “If anything, I should thank you. You’ve been nothing but kind and genuine, even when things got messy.”

Mingyu relaxes slightly, though his expression remains serious. “I mean it, though. I really respect you. I don’t know if I’d have the strength to even be here, let alone handle everything as gracefully as you have.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “Gracefully? I’m pretty sure half the villa heard me crying last night.”

“Maybe,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But honestly? You’re handling it. You’re facing it head-on, even if it’s messy. That takes guts.”

His words catch you off guard, and you blink, letting them settle. “Thanks, Mingyu,” you say softly. “That means a lot.”

He nods, a warm sincerity in his gaze. “For what it’s worth, I think you should do whatever feels right for you. Whether that’s giving him another chance or walking away for good. Just… make sure it’s what you want, not what you think you’re supposed to do.”

You consider his words carefully, feeling a mix of gratitude and clarity. “That’s good advice,” you admit, your voice thoughtful. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

The two of you sit in companionable silence for a while, the weight of the conversation lifting slightly. Eventually, Mingyu stands, brushing grass off his pants. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to your heavy Roman philosophy. But if you ever need to vent—or just a distraction—you know where to find me.”

You smile up at him, genuinely touched by his support. “Thanks, Mingyu. Really.”

As he walks back toward the villa, you pick up your book again, but your mind lingers on his words. The clarity they bring feels like the first piece of calm amidst the chaos, and for the first time in days, you feel like you’re starting to figure out what you truly want.

After Mingyu’s apology, a sense of relief settles over you, but it doesn’t erase the questions or the lingering confusion. You spent the morning with Dae, trying to keep your mind occupied with light conversation, but your thoughts keep drifting back to everything that’s happened. The answers you’ve gained are helpful, but they don’t completely solve the storm raging inside of you. You’ve gained some closure, but there’s still so much you’re trying to process, especially now that you know Nic wants another chance. You’re unsure if you���re ready to give it, or if you even want to.

Looking for solitude, you escape to the garden, where the tranquil beauty of the estate contrasts sharply with the turmoil inside. Surrounded by the calm lake and vibrant flowers, you try to make sense of your emotions. The stillness around you feels like a reflection of what you want—peace and clarity—but it’s hard to silence the unease. You’ve been holding onto so much—anger, regret, and fear. Nic’s confession that he loves you, and his desire to try again, makes it all more complicated. Can you trust him again? Can you trust yourself?

The midday sun cast its warmth across the rippling lake, the golden light reflecting off the water like scattered diamonds. The air smelled faintly of wildflowers and pine, a comforting mix that you’d come to associate with this place. You were stretched out on a towel on the grass, letting the sun kiss your skin, trying to soak in the quiet and keep your thoughts at bay.

A soft rustle of gravel caught your attention, followed by the unmistakable weight of his presence. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Nicholas. Even after all these years, you could still feel him before you saw him.

When you did glance up, he stood a few feet away, one hand playing with a ring on his other, his gaze flickering between you and the lake. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and in his hand was a folded piece of paper.

“Hey,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

You sat up, shielding your eyes from the sun. “Hey.”

He shifted, his thumb brushing over the edge of the paper. “I, uh…wanted to give you this.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked at the paper. “What is it?”

“A letter,” he admitted, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance. “I wrote it after college. It’s…it’s everything I couldn’t say back then.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Why didn’t you send it?”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before he sighed. “Dae made me promise not to. She thought it would hurt you more than it would help.” His voice softened. “She was probably right.”

Your fingers itched to take the letter, but your chest tightened. “Why now?”

He crouched down, placing the letter on the towel beside you, his gaze steady and purposeful. “I want you to have this,” he said quietly. “I don’t expect anything from it, or from you. I just think it’s important for you to know the truth. When you’re ready, read it. I’ll be here, but… take your time.”

You stared at the letter, a wave of conflicting emotions rushing through you—curiosity, fear, and something deeper, more vulnerable that you couldn’t yet name. By the time you looked up, Nic was already walking away, his footsteps soft against the gravel path.

Before he disappeared into the distance, he turned back, his voice low as he spoke again. “I’m not running away this time,” he said, a hint of finality in his words. “Whatever happens next, I’m staying.” His eyes held yours for a long moment, before he gave a small nod and left you alone with the letter.

You sat there, the peaceful sounds of the lake and the distant wedding preparations surrounding you, but you could feel the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. The letter before you seemed to hold the answer to questions you hadn’t known how to ask, and now it was up to you to decide whether to open it, to face whatever truths it might bring.

Hey,

I don’t know where to start, so I guess I’ll just say I’m sorry.

Dae told me how bad things have been for you. I can’t stop hearing her voice, the way she said it. You don’t deserve any of this. You never did. I’ve been trying to convince myself that this is what I wanted—that running to L.A. was the right thing to do, that leaving everything behind was the only way to get where I’m going. But every day, I wake up and realize how hollow that is.

You told me you loved me. God, I already knew. I’ve known for a long time—probably longer than you did. You didn’t say anything I hadn’t already felt in the way you looked at me, laughed with me, or trusted me when no one else could. I don’t know why I let you say it first. Maybe I was waiting for the courage to admit that I felt the same way.

I didn’t handle it the way I should have. I should’ve told you how scared I was—scared of messing this up, scared of failing, scared of how much you already meant to me. Instead, I just ran. Because running was easier than staying and facing the possibility that I might not be enough for you, that this thing between us could break under the weight of my fear and ambition.

But it broke anyway, didn’t it?

Josh told me to write this down. He said it didn’t matter if it was stupid or if you’d never even read it—just that I needed to get it out of my head. I didn’t believe him at first, but he was right. I’ve been carrying this around like a weight tied to my chest, and I need you to know that leaving you wasn’t what I wanted. Not really.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to fix this. I don’t know if I deserve that chance. But if I do—if somehow you find a way to let me back into your life—I promise I’ll fight for you this time. I won’t run. I’ll prove that I’m not the same stupid, confused kid who thought a job in L.A. was more important than the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

I don’t expect forgiveness. I just needed you to know.

I miss you. More than I thought was possible.

Love, always

Nic

The letter trembled in your hands as you finished reading, your vision blurred by unshed tears. You folded it carefully, your chest tightening as you placed it back on the towel beside you.

It didn’t erase the hurt—nothing could—but it filled in the gaps. It explained the silence, the retreat, the way he’d pulled away when you needed him most. It didn’t justify it, but it made it human.

And as much as it stung to relive those memories, something in you softened. The vulnerability in his words, the raw sincerity—they weren’t things you’d ever expected from Nicholas. He wasn’t just apologizing; he was baring himself in a way he never had before.

For the first time, you believed he truly regretted what happened. And maybe, just maybe, you believed he was capable of change.

You found him in the villa’s garden, sitting on a low stone bench beneath the shade of a sprawling olive tree. His shoulders were hunched, hands clasped between his knees as he stared at the cobblestone path. The rustling leaves and distant hum of cicadas filled the silence until your footsteps broke through.

He looked up, and his eyes searched yours. There was a flicker of hope in them, but it was tentative, cautious. You could see the way he braced himself, as if ready for whatever blow might come next.

“I read it,” you said, stopping a few steps away.

He stood, stuffing his hands into his pockets, then took a hesitant step closer. “And?”

You exhaled, shaking your head softly as you perched on the edge of the bench. “It doesn’t fix everything, Nic. It doesn’t take away the pain. But… I think I get it now. Why you left. Why you didn’t say goodbye.”

Nic sat beside you, not interrupting, just listening. His eyes were focused on the ground, his posture tense but patient, as though he was waiting for you to continue.

You glanced at him briefly, your voice quieter but steady. “I’ve spent so long wondering if I’d done something wrong. If I wasn’t enough. But seeing it, reading it… it makes it more real, I guess. You’re not a villain. You’re not just someone who walked away. You had your reasons. I can see that now.”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t speak. His eyes searched yours for any sign of anger or resentment, but you felt only a quiet acceptance—your thoughts still swirling, but clearer than before.

“I won’t pretend this makes everything okay. It doesn’t erase how it felt, or how I felt. But it’s real, Nic. You’re not the guy I thought you were. It makes it… human.” You paused, looking away, unable to keep the tears in check for much longer. “But I can… understand. Finally.”

Nic’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back. His expression softened, and though he didn’t speak, there was an understanding between you now—a fragile crack in the wall that had been between you both for so long.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. He let you breathe, let you feel it, without rushing in to explain or fix. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like you were beginning to make peace with the past.

Nic broke the silence, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “I’d like a chance to try again. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’ve changed.”

You studied him for a moment, his expression open, unguarded. For the first time, it felt like he wasn’t just offering you words—he was offering you a piece of himself.

“And now?” you asked, your voice careful, cautious.

“I’m moving back to New York in a month,” he said simply. “I’ve already taken the job. I’ll be there full-time, and when I am, I want to prove to you that I’ve learned from my mistakes. That I can do better.”

Your lips quirked into a faint, skeptical smile. “What makes you so sure I’ll let you?”

“I’m not,” he admitted, a flicker of a smile breaking through his seriousness. “But I’m willing to try. You’ve always been worth it, even if I didn’t have the sense to see it back then.” He paused, his tone softening. “And I know if I screw up again, Joshua and Dae will drown me in the Hudson before you even get the chance.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound breaking some of the tension. “That’s probably true.”

“I mean it,” he said, leaning slightly toward you, his voice lowering. “I’ve spent years thinking about this. About you. And I know now that nothing I say will ever be enough unless I show you. So this is me, showing you. I’m here. And I’m ready to put in the work, no matter how long it takes.”

The sincerity in his words tugged at something deep inside you, though your heart remained guarded. “It’s not just about making promises, Nic,” you said softly. “It’s about proving you can stay. That you won’t disappear when things get hard again.”

“I know,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “And I will. One day at a time. One step at a time. I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight. I just want a chance to earn it.”

You studied him for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a quiet determination in his expression, a sincerity that felt unshakable. For the first time, you believed he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear—he meant every word.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice soft but resolute. “Baby steps.”

A faint, relieved smile spread across his face, one that reached his eyes. “Baby steps,” he echoed.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t fix everything. But for the first time in years, you felt the tiniest flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. Together.

You looked at him for a long moment, letting his words settle over you like the warm Italian breeze. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, no mistaking the quiet resolve in his eyes. This was Nicholas—not the man who ran away, but the one who was willing to stay and fight for you now.

And yet, the hurt was still there, a lingering ache you couldn’t shake. But so was the memory of what it felt like to be with him—the safety, the warmth, the certainty that no one else could ever occupy the space he had carved out in your heart.

Before you could overthink it, you shifted closer on the bench.

Nic’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as you closed the distance between you. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

For a moment, he froze, like he couldn’t believe it was happening. But then he turned slightly and arms came around you, holding you tightly, and he let out a shaky exhale against your hair.

His heart was pounding beneath your ear, so fast and so loud you were certain he could feel it, too. It was such a familiar rhythm, one you hadn’t realized you’d missed until now.

Neither of you spoke, but there was no need to. The hug wasn’t just an embrace; it was a beginning. The first crack in the walls you’d spent years building, the first tentative step toward letting him back in.

His hand moved up to cradle the back of your head, his touch achingly gentle, and you felt his lips press softly against your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered, so quiet you barely heard it.

You didn’t respond right away, letting yourself sink into the moment—the feeling of being back in his arms, of being home in a way you hadn’t been in a long time.

Finally, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your arms still looped loosely around his midriff. “Don’t make me regret this, Nic,” you murmured, your voice low but steady.

His gaze met yours, unwavering. “I won’t,” he promised.

And for the first time in years, you thought maybe—just maybe—you could believe him.

DAY SEVEN

The garden was alive with warmth and laughter, the gentle hum of conversation mingling with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. A few rows of chairs were set out neatly in front of an archway draped in delicate linen and wildflowers, the blooms swaying lazily in the afternoon sun. Everything about the scene felt intimate and magical, the perfect backdrop for the day’s promises.

On the lawn just off to the side, Joshua and Nic were with Nabi—Dae’s niece, her joyful giggles carrying through the air as they took turns chasing her in playful circles. Joshua lifted her high in the air with ease, spinning her around before setting her down so Nic could crouch to her level and join in her antics. There was something achingly tender about the scene—Nic’s easy smile, the way he cradled her like she was the most precious thing in the world. It made your chest tighten and your knees feel a little weak. He looked completely at ease, his sharp features softened by the pure affection shining in his eyes.

You lingered near the garden entrance, letting the moment unfold, but Nic caught sight of you almost immediately. He froze mid-movement, his smile faltering for just a second before returning, this time softer, as his eyes stayed locked on you. Joshua noticed, his gaze darting between you and Nic before a knowing grin spread across his face. Nudging Nic lightly with his elbow, he murmured something you couldn’t hear, then patted Nabi’s shoulder as if signaling her to join in.

“Take Nabi with you,” Joshua said, his voice just audible now. “As backup.”

Nic gave him a look but obliged, standing and brushing off his trousers. As he made his way toward you, Nabi clung to his hand, bouncing excitedly on her toes.

“Auntie!” Nabi squealed, breaking free from Nic’s grip and running the last few steps to throw her arms around you. You laughed, stooping slightly to meet her hug, the warmth of her energy infectious.

“Oh, beautiful girl, I missed y,” you cooed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “You’ve grown so much!”

She stepped back just enough to get a full look at you, her big eyes going wide as she gasped dramatically. “You look so pretty, like a princess!”

You chuckled, smoothing the fabric of your dress. “That’s sweet of you to say, Nabi. But I think the real princess here is you. Have you seen your flower crown? It’s gorgeous.”

Nabi, ever observant, turned her attention to Nic, tugging on his sleeve to pull him into the conversation. “Uncle Nic, don’t you think she looks like a princess?”

Nic’s blush rose immediately, a soft pink coloring his cheeks as his gaze darted between you and Nabi. He cleared his throat, his usual confidence taking a backseat to something tender and vulnerable. “I do,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. “She looks beautiful.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes lingered on you like you were the only person in the world. Nabi seemed pleased with his response, clapping her hands before Joshua called her name from across the lawn.

“Nabi-ya!” Joshua beckoned, his voice light with laughter. He crouched down the ground, saying something in Korean that you didn’t understand.

But Nabi did, and she squealed again, running off toward Joshua without a second thought. He gave you a quick wink before turning his full attention back to entertaining Nabi, leaving you alone with Nic.

“She’s exactly how I picture Dae was as a kid,” Nic said, watching them go with a faint smile.

“Causing trouble between unwitting adults? Pretty much,” you replied, glancing up at him with a grin. “You’re really good with her. It’s sweet to see.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the blush still faintly there. “She was easy to befriend. I just had to give her a piggyback and promise ice cream later on.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, the weight of the moment settling between you. “I stopped by Dae’s suite earlier. She’s excited, but you know how she gets before big moments.”

“She’ll be fine,” Nic said, his smile warming at the mention of her.

“I don’t doubt it,” you said, your voice taking on a gentle fondness. “Josh is going to be a wreck, though. He’s going to cry the second he sees her.”

Nic chuckled at that, glancing over to where Joshua was fussing with Nabi’s flower crown again. “You’re probably right. He’ll deny it, but I give it two minutes before the waterworks start.”

“Two? That’s gracious,” you teased, shaking your head. “But, honestly? I’ll probably cry too. It’s hard not to with these two.”

Nic hummed in agreement, but you noticed his tie was slightly off—crooked and loosely knotted, the way it always was when he attempted it himself. Without thinking, your hand reached out, instinct taking over as you caught the fabric in your fingers.

“You never could do this right,” you murmured, stepping closer as your fingers caught the fabric of his crooked tie.

Nic stilled but didn’t move away, his eyes dropping to watch as you carefully loosened the knot.

“All these years of being a big-shot lawyer and prosecutor,” you teased lightly, your voice soft but steady, “and you still can’t figure this out?”

His lips twitched, the corner tugging up in a faint smirk. “Guess some things never change.”

“Clearly,” you replied, tugging the tie into a perfect knot and smoothing it down against his chest. You lingered for a brief second, the faint impression of taut muscle below your fingertips prompting a tingle in your knees before you stepped back.

“There,” you said, finally looking up at him. “That’s better.”

When your eyes met his, you found him already watching you, his gaze warm and unreadable, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I don’t know,” Nic said, his voice quieter now. “I think it looks better when you do it.”

Your cheeks warmed at his tone, but you gave him a half-smile, trying to keep the moment light. “Good thing I’m here, then.”

Nic’s gaze softened as he looked at you, something unspoken passing between you as the celebrant called for everyone to take their seats. The air between you felt lighter—less burdened by the years of distance and hurt. It wasn’t everything, but it was something, and maybe, for now, that was enough. Together, you made your way to the front row, sitting side by side as the atmosphere shifted, the ceremony moments away. The weight of being at a wedding settled over you both, not heavy or suffocating, but warm and reflective, a reminder of the beauty in love and commitment. Nic’s hand rested on his knee, his fingers brushing yours for just a second before pulling away. It was a quiet gesture, but it said everything neither of you could in that moment.

The ceremony had been intimate, full of raw emotion and quiet vows shared under the archway of wildflowers and linen. After the applause and congratulations faded, Josh and Dae pulled everyone into the garden for photos. They made a point to gather everyone close for group shots, but it wasn’t long before the focus turned to the two of you—Nic, and you.

“Come on,” Dae urged, tugging at your hand with an almost childlike excitement. “Just one with the original crew. For old times’ sake.”

Josh beamed as he pulled Nic closer, the four of you automatically falling into place the way you had so many times before. Nic’s arm settled around your waist like a second nature, his hand gripping your hip gently as the photographer guided you all, and you found yourself smiling more naturally than you had in years.

As the camera clicked, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you, bittersweet and warm all at once. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was like no time had passed at all. These three had been your family once—Josh’s steady encouragement, Dae’s infectious laughter, and Nic’s quiet, unwavering presence. And now, standing there again, you realized they still were.

“Just one more,” Josh said, his voice light but fond as he glanced at Dae. “For the wedding album.”

Dae laughed, slipping her arm around his waist. “Fine, but I get to pick which one we print.”

As the session wound down, Josh and Dae were swept away for more couple’s photos, leaving the rest of you to wander back toward the villa. Nic fell into step beside you, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“That felt…a little like old times, didn’t it?” he said after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful.

You glanced at him, his profile softened by the golden hour light. “It did. Almost made me forget how long it’s been.”

Nic smiled faintly, his gaze fixed ahead as he said, “Doesn’t feel that long when we’re all together like that. Like…nothing’s really changed.”

You wanted to say that some things had changed—everything had, really—but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just nodded, your footsteps falling into an easy rhythm with his.

By the time you reached the terrace, the space had been transformed for the reception. Strings of lights hung overhead, and the scent of wildflowers lingered in the air. The warmth of the garden gave way to a deeper kind of intimacy, the soft hum of conversation weaving through the evening as you and Nic sat side by side, the laughter and love surrounding you like a bubble that left just the two of you to your thoughts.

You couldn’t help but glance at him when he wasn’t looking, taking in the way the warm light caught the angles of his face, the faint lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Those years apart had added something to him—maturity, maybe, or weariness—but not enough to bury the man you’d fallen for all those years ago. It wasn’t the tailored suit or the polished smile or the gold plaque with his name on it that stayed with you now; it was the way he’d looked at Nabi earlier, the way he’d watched Josh and Dae exchange their vows with such a quiet intensity.

He caught you staring and smiled faintly, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to gauge where your thoughts had gone. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were suspended in time, the weight of everything unspoken between you making the air thicker.

The terrace fell silent as Josh rose to speak, his voice steady but rich with emotion. He spoke about Dae with the kind of reverence that only deep, abiding love could inspire, sharing stories that earned both laughter and tears from the small gathering. Dae followed with her own words, her usual confidence softened by the rawness of her affection for Josh.

The speeches struck a chord in you, each word a gentle nudge toward memories you thought you’d buried. You felt Nic shift beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned forward, his attention fixed on the couple at the head of the table. You knew he was thinking about them—about what they had—but you also knew he was thinking about you.

Then, Dae turned her attention to you, her smile mischievous as she raised her glass. “I think it’s only fair,” she said, her voice light and teasing, “that someone else says something too.” She pointed a perfectly manicured nail directly at you. “You’ve known both Josh and me longer than almost anyone here. You should say a few words.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, and you shook your head quickly. “Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“You absolutely could,” Josh interrupted with a grin, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, don’t leave us hanging.”

The guests clapped lightly, encouraging you, and with a deep breath, you rose to your feet. Your mind raced for something to say, the weight of everyone’s eyes on you making it harder to focus. Then your gaze landed on Josh and Dae, their fingers interlaced, their smiles soft and knowing, and you felt a calm settle over you.

“I’m, uh, not great at speeches,” you started, earning a few chuckles. “But I guess the thing about love is that it doesn’t really need perfect words, does it? Love is messy and complicated and…sometimes really painful. It’s not always easy to let people in, or to hold on when things get hard.”

Your voice softened, and you glanced briefly at Nic before continuing. “But when it’s real, when it’s worth it, it finds a way. Time, distance…even mistakes don’t make it disappear. It lingers. It’s patient, even when we aren’t.”

You swallowed hard, emotion creeping into your voice as you looked at Josh and Dae. “What you two have…it’s special. It’s not just about the big moments—it’s in the little ones, too. The way you look at each other when you think no one’s watching, the way you hold onto each other even when things aren’t perfect.”

Your lips curved into a small smile as your gaze softened. “You remind all of us what it means to love fully, without holding back. And I think that’s the most beautiful thing any of us could hope for.”

The applause that followed was warm and heartfelt, but you barely registered it. Your heart was pounding as you sat back down, your eyes meeting Nic’s for just a second too long. His expression was unreadable at first, his gaze fixed on you like he was trying to memorize every word you’d just said.

“That was…” Nic started, his voice lower than usual. He paused, shaking his head slightly as a small smile tugged at his lips. “You always have a way of saying exactly what people need to hear.”

His hand brushed against yours under the table, not quite a touch, but enough to make you feel the weight of it. It was in that moment you realized: you hadn’t just been talking about Josh and Dae. You’d been talking about him. About you.

And he knew it.

The first dance was everything you’d expect from Josh and Dae: sweet, understated, and full of a love that seemed to glow brighter than the candles flickering on the tables. The soft strains of their song floated through the terrace, weaving around the small, intimate gathering like a spell.

You and Nic stood off to the side, watching as they swayed together under the string lights. Dae’s head rested against Josh’s shoulder, her gown trailing elegantly behind her as they moved in perfect sync, lost in their little world.

“She looks so happy,” Nic murmured beside you, his voice low enough that it almost blended into the music.

You glanced at him, catching the softened lines of his expression, the way his gaze lingered on the couple with quiet admiration. “They both do,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended.

Watching them, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of reflection—a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and possibility. You thought about the version of yourself from five years ago, so tangled up in your feelings for Nic that it had felt impossible to move forward without him. And now here you were, standing beside him, watching someone else’s love story unfold.

Your mind wandered, drifting back through your memories of him—the late nights in college, the laughter, the arguments, the moments when everything felt so sure and others when it all seemed to slip away. And yet, even through the years apart, that same pull lingered. The question wasn’t whether you still loved him—you knew you did. It was whether the future could hold something more than the past.

Josh spun Dae out and brought her back into his arms, drawing a round of applause from the small crowd as their song came to an end. They beamed at each other, sharing a quick kiss before the music shifted to something more upbeat, signaling the start of the reception.

As the evening unfolded, the terrace came alive with chatter, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses. Nic had stepped away briefly to grab a drink, leaving you to mingle with the others, but it wasn’t long before Dae sidled up to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“So,” she started, dragging out the word as she nudged your arm. “Progress report, please.”

You blinked at her, feigning innocence. “Progress on what?”

Dae rolled her eyes dramatically, crossing her arms. “Don’t play dumb with me. You and Nic.”

Your face immediately warmed, and you glanced around as if someone might overhear. “Dae…”

“What?” she teased, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “It’s a legitimate question. I mean, you’ve barely taken your eyes off each other all day.”

“I—” you started to protest, but the words faltered when Nic reappeared at your side, holding out a glass of champagne for you.

“What did I miss?” he asked casually, though the slight furrow in his brow betrayed his curiosity.

“Oh, nothing much,” Dae said airily, clearly enjoying herself. “Just checking in on you two. Josh has been taking bets on when you’re getting back together, by the way.”

Nic nearly choked on his drink, his ears tinting red as he looked at Dae with wide eyes. “He what?”

“He’s your biggest shipper, you know,” she continued, completely undeterred by the embarrassment she was causing. “He’s been rooting for this since forever. Honestly, I think it’s half the reason he wanted the two of you here together.”

You covered your face with your hand, half laughing, half mortified. “Dae, stop.”

“Why? It’s true!” she said, throwing up her hands innocently. “He even said at one point that if he had to, he’d lock you two in a room until you sorted it out. But hey, it looks like I don’t have to intervene, so… progress!”

Nic shook his head, his blush spreading to his neck as he avoided meeting your gaze. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Dae gave you both a smug little grin, clearly pleased with herself. “Just saying what everyone’s thinking. Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone. But don’t make me wait for updates—I’m invested.”

With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you and Nic standing there, equally flustered.

You finally dared to glance at him, catching the faint sheepish smile he was trying to hide. “Well, that was subtle,” you said dryly, though you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face.

Nic let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… subtle has never really been her thing.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the music and laughter from the reception wrapping around you like a cocoon. And despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, you felt a quiet warmth settle between you—something unspoken, but understood all the same.

You and Nic were tucked off to the side, your chairs angled just enough to give you a view of the lake as the night settled in. His hand rested lightly on the back of your chair, his body angled toward yours, the conversation between you easy and natural for the first time in years.

The moment was interrupted by the smooth arrival of Mingyu, his usual grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, well,” he said, gesturing between the two of you, “I’m glad to see the two of you have worked things out. Not gonna lie, I was rooting for you.”

Nic stiffened slightly beside you, though his expression remained neutral. “Yeah, we’ve been…talking,” he replied carefully, his hand slipping from the back of your chair to his lap.

Mingyu’s grin softened, turning almost sheepish. “Listen, man,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to, you know, step on your toes this week. I didn’t know the history, and once I did, well…” He looked between the two of you. “I just want to say I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

Nic glanced at you, then back at Mingyu, clearly caught off guard. He shifted in his chair, a flush creeping up his neck. “You didn’t owe me anything,” he said after a moment, his voice measured. “But…I appreciate it. And, uh, sorry if I was…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

“Possessive?” Mingyu offered with a teasing glint in his eye.

Nic sighed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Yeah. That.”

Mingyu laughed, holding out his hand. “No hard feelings?”

Nic hesitated for only a moment before taking it, shaking firmly. “No hard feelings,” he echoed, though his embarrassment lingered in the faint pink of his cheeks.

As Mingyu walked away, you glanced at Nic, your eyebrow raised. “Possessive, huh?”

He groaned, leaning back in his chair with a wry smile. “Don’t start.”

You laughed softly, leaning closer. “It’s okay,” you teased. “I think it’s kind of sweet.”

Nic gave you a look, somewhere between exasperation and affection, before shaking his head. “You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

The reception had dwindled to a quiet hum, the terrace now lit only by the soft glow of fairy lights and the lingering warmth of a celebration well-lived. Guests were beginning to disperse, gathering their things, exchanging hugs and goodbyes. Dae and Josh stood at the entrance of the villa, looking every bit the newlyweds—radiant, a little tipsy, and blissfully in love.

“Alright, you two,” Dae said, pulling you and Nic in for a hug. “Promise me you’ll send updates. I need to know every detail of your progress.”

Josh chuckled, resting an arm around her waist. “She’s not kidding, by the way. You’re going to regret letting her have your number.”

Nic smirked, shaking Josh’s hand. “I’ll take my chances.”

Dae grinned but her tone softened as she squeezed your hand. “We’re so proud of you both. Really. It’s been amazing having you here this week. Seeing you together…” She trailed off, her eyes glassy with emotion.

Josh picked up where she left off. “It meant a lot. And not just for us. You two being here—it feels like something’s come full circle.”

“Alright, enough sentimentality,” Dae said, wiping at her cheek with a laugh. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”

They were heading to Santorini for their honeymoon—classy, romantic, and quintessentially them. The group gathered outside the villa to wave them off, cheering as their car disappeared down the drive.

As the crowd thinned and everyone started for their hotels or Airbnbs, Nic lingered by your side. He looked at you with a familiar warmth that made your chest tighten, a quiet confidence in the way he stood close, just shy of brushing your arm.

“So,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you say we find somewhere to grab dinner? Nothing fancy. We’ll just see where the night takes us.”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

You ended up at a small, tucked-away trattoria on one of Bellagio’s cobblestone streets. The kind of place where the servers knew every regular by name and the scent of garlic and herbs lingered in the air. It wasn’t planned, but it was perfect.

Over plates of fresh pasta and glasses of wine, the conversation flowed easily, loosened by the champagne and the natural rhythm you and Nic had always had. It felt almost like old times—like those late-night dinners during college when it was just the two of you, talking about anything and everything.

Nic leaned back in his chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “So,” he began, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Are you going to tell me what happened with buying into your practice? You mentioned it earlier this week, but you never really talked about it.”

You swirled the wine in your glass thoughtfully. “I’m supposed to be, early next year. But… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like something I want to commit to just yet.”

He frowned slightly, intrigued. “Why not? You’d be great at it. Dae couldn’t stop raving about how great you are after you took out her wisdom teeth. And—” he paused, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I may have read some of your practice’s Google reviews.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Oh my god. You’re a stalker!”

He laughed, holding his hands up defensively. “I was curious, alright? But seriously, you’re a great surgeon. Why not take the next step?”

You shrugged, resting your chin on your hand. “Maybe I’m too young to be running a business. Or maybe I just want a change of scenery. I’ve been thinking about going back to the public sector for a while now.”

Nic tilted his head, considering your words. “You want my thoughts?” You nod eagerly, eyes glassy.  “I think you should do what feels right for you. Whatever you decide, you’ll be amazing. You always are.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten, and you looked away, focusing on the last of the wine in your glass. The warmth between you felt almost tangible, a fragile, growing thing that neither of you wanted to disturb.

The walk back to Nic’s Airbnb began with an invitation over the last sips of wine at the restaurant.

The two of you had been lingering long after your plates were cleared, the conversation meandering between work, college memories, and everything in between. Nic leaned back in his chair, his tie slightly loosened, his hand absently turning the stem of his glass.

“I don’t want this to end yet,” he admitted suddenly, his tone light but honest. “There’s too much I still want to catch up on. Come back to my Airbnb? We can keep talking.”

The offer was casual, no hidden agenda—just Nic being Nic. And yet, the way he looked at you, his brown eyes warm and steady, made something in your chest tighten.

You hesitated for only a moment, your inhibitions softened by the wine and the comfort of the evening. “Sure,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “Why not?”

His relief was subtle, but you caught it—a small exhale, a quick grin. “Good,” he said, setting his glass down and standing. “Let’s go.”

The walk back was steeped in an easy, wine-laced warmth. Bellagio’s quiet streets were lit only by the occasional glow of a streetlamp, the lake shimmering softly in the distance. Nic walked close beside you, hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed for the first time in what felt like years.

“I just—” he began, glancing at you before looking back ahead, “I didn’t want the night to end yet. It feels like we’ve only just started catching up.”

You felt your stomach flutter, a mix of the wine and the way he said it—earnest and almost boyish. “I get it,” you admitted, your voice soft. “It feels like there’s too much to fit into one dinner.”

He grinned, looking down at you briefly. “Exactly. So… thanks for coming with me. Even if it’s just to hear me ramble a little more.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “You? Ramble? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Oh, I do. Just ask Josh,” he teased, and the two of you slipped back into a conversation about work and life.

Somewhere along the way, he asked, carefully, “So… anyone back in New York? You know, in the last five years?”

The question caught you off guard, but the curiosity in his tone wasn’t intrusive—it was tentative, like he was almost afraid of the answer. You shook your head, smiling wryly. “Not seriously. Just a few failed Hinge dates here and there. I’m married to my loupes and luxators, apparently.”

Nic chuckled, shaking his head. “That tracks.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And what about you? Mr. Los Angeles?”

“Pretty much the same,” he admitted with a small shrug. “I tried dating—key word: tried. But nothing stuck. Guess I’ve been married to my caseload.”

His honesty surprised you, though it shouldn’t have. Nic was always like that—direct, but in a way that felt safe. And now, as you walked beside him, it struck you how little had changed in some ways. The years apart hadn’t dulled the pull you felt toward him, the way his presence seemed to make everything else fade into the background.

When you reached his Airbnb, a modest but cozy villa tucked into a quiet corner of town, he held the door open for you, letting you slip off your heels with a sigh of relief. “God, I think these shoes are trying to kill me,” you muttered.

Nic smirked, setting his keys on the counter. “Well, you survived. That’s what matters.”

He reached for a bottle of red from the kitchen counter, pouring two glasses and handing one to you before settling onto the couch. “One last glass?”

“Twist my arm,” you teased, sinking into the cushions beside him.

The atmosphere was easy, relaxed, but the wine added a subtle haze to the air. Nic leaned back, his shirt slightly untucked, his tie loosened from the long day. The disheveled look suited him too well, and you found your gaze lingering more than you meant to.

The low lighting softened his features, but the sharpness of his jawline, the curve of his mouth, were impossible to ignore. And it wasn’t just how he looked—it was how he made you feel. That giddy, nervous energy you hadn’t felt in years, the kind you used to feel back in college when he would smile at you in just the right way.

Your thoughts drifted. You were reminded of late-night study sessions, sitting shoulder to shoulder, the proximity enough to set your pulse racing. The way he’d brush his hand against yours when passing you a pen. The stolen glances that made you wonder if he felt it, too.

And now, here you were again, sitting beside him like no time had passed, even though it had. The tension was there, just under the surface—a hum of possibility neither of you seemed ready to act on, but both of you felt.

Nic glanced over at you, catching your gaze. “What?” he asked softly, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, looking down at your glass. “Just… you look relaxed. It’s nice.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You do, too.”

The air between you shifted, quieter now but charged. And as the conversation resumed—stories about work, the moments you’d missed—you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was where you were always meant to be. With him. Here.

The warmth of the red wine lingered, like a soft haze wrapping around the two of you as the evening stretched into something quieter, something slower. You and Nic had settled into a comfortable rhythm, trading stories and laughter, the conversation ebbing and flowing like it always had. But now, as the hour grew late, the air between you felt heavier—charged with something unspoken, yet deeply understood.

Nic set his empty glass on the coffee table, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. You looked down at the fleeting contact, your pulse skipping in response.

“I missed this,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, pulling your attention back to him.

“This?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

He smiled, his brown eyes catching the faint glow of the lamp. “You. Us. Talking like this.”

His words struck something deep, and before you could respond, he shifted slightly, leaning closer—not too much, just enough that the space between you felt almost non-existent.

“I need to ask you something,” he said quietly, his voice threading through the stillness.

Your heart stumbled, but you nodded, trying to keep your voice calm. “What is it?”

Nic’s gaze flickered down to your lips, lingering for just a beat before returning to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

The question was so tender, so deliberate, that it almost unraveled you. He didn’t rush the moment, didn’t move until you answered. But the intensity in his gaze left no doubt about what he wanted—and what you did, too.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced.

Nic’s lips curved into the faintest smile, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for your permission. Slowly, he reached up, his fingers brushing along your jaw, his touch feather-light as if testing the waters.

And then he closed the distance.

The first press of his lips against yours was soft, tentative, a question in itself. He didn’t rush, didn’t push. His hand moved to cup your cheek, anchoring you to him as the kiss deepened ever so slightly, a slow, languid exploration that felt like coming home.

You melted into him, your hand finding its way to his chest, where you could feel the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. It matched your own, as if the two of you were syncing after years of being out of tune.

The kiss grew heavier—not rushed, but more certain, as though every lingering doubt or hesitation was being stripped away with every gentle pull of his lips. His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, grounding you in the moment, and you responded in kind, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a reclamation of everything you’d lost, a connection you thought you’d never have again. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the years apart, not the mistakes or misunderstandings—just him, and you, and the way he made you feel like you belonged.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, you opened your eyes to find him watching you, his gaze soft but searching.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a slow, steady smile spreading across your lips. “Yeah. More than okay.”

Nic’s own smile mirrored yours, his hand still cradling your face like he was afraid to let go. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t think I can stop now.”

You laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension just enough to make the moment feel light again, but the undercurrent of emotion remained. This was Nic—your Nic—and for the first time in years, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

Nic kissed you like he was trying to etch the moment into memory, his lips slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that made the world tilt just slightly on its axis. Your arms looped around his shoulders as his hands anchored themselves at your waist, fingers curling like he was afraid to let you go.

Before you even realized it, you’d shifted closer, settling into his lap like you belonged there—because, God, didn’t it feel like you did? His hands slid up your back, pulling you firmly against him as your heart pounded in time with his.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths mingling in the stillness, Nic’s hands stayed exactly where they were, holding you in place as though releasing you would undo everything. His head dropped to your shoulder, and for a moment, he just held you, his chest heaving with something that felt almost like relief.

Then he let out a soft laugh, lifting his head to meet your eyes. His grin was boyish, a little crooked, and entirely unguarded. “You know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “for the first time in a long time, it feels like the world’s finally spinning the right way.”

You blinked, your chest tightening with an ache so sweet it almost hurt. “Yeah?” you managed, the word coming out a little breathless.

He nodded, his expression softening as his hands squeezed your sides. “Yeah. And you… you’re right at the center of it.”

Your laugh came out shaky, barely masking the tears threatening to spill. But they weren’t tears of sadness—not this time. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, though your voice betrayed how much his words had wrecked you in the best way.

Nic grinned wider, leaning in until his forehead touched yours. “You like it,” he murmured, his tone playful but sure.

“I do,” you admitted, your smile widening even as your heart soared. “God help me, I really do.”

For a while, you just sat there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of everything unspoken melting into the comfort of his arms around you. The quiet between you wasn’t empty—it was full of possibility, of shared breaths and unspoken promises.

Eventually, Nic tilted his head, brushing his lips against your temple. “This… this isn’t just a moment, right?” he asked softly, his voice uncertain for the first time that night.

You cupped his cheek, your thumb grazing his skin as you smiled. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

His eyes searched yours, and whatever he saw there seemed to settle something deep inside him. He let out a long breath, pulling you even closer, his arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let go.

And as you sat there, wrapped in each other on that worn, comfortable couch in a quiet little Airbnb, it hit you—you didn’t need grand gestures or perfect timing. You just needed this. Him.

Because in Nic’s arms, the past didn’t matter, and the future didn’t feel so daunting. There was just now—just you and him, finally back where you belonged.

[nightunite]

Yes I know I’m literally talking to you via our DMs about this, but what do you think Konig’s first first impressions of Maid Reader is? Does he fully register the new personnel at the manor, or is it more of a “yes new people to be a good employer too”

Hello my little secret agent, thank you for sending in an ask. This is how I imagine their first interaction to go.

Konig can feel a headache brewing, his grip tight on his pen while he massages at his temple with his free hand. It's barely past noon, and already he has had more social interaction than he cares for. If it weren't for these damn papers, he would be free from this stuffy office to roam the chilly woods. He glares with disdain at his filing shelves, the only piece of furniture not built with him in mind, the muscles in his back between his shoulders protesting at the thought of being hunched inwards, squinting at the documents while bent lest he smack the back of his skull into the hanging cabinets again. He glances down at his feet, a sturdy bag resting under his desk. Inside are rations packed by the cooks, a bedroll, some matches and a flint, a canteen, and the various hunting gear he requires. Enough to last him several days, free from the burdens and expectations of the nobility and their incessant need to gossip. A gentle rap on his door forces his gaze from the bag, a grunt signaling for his footman, Felix to come in. When he sees him enter with a young woman whose face he did not recognize he represses the urge to groan, headache kicking in fully. It doesn't help that Felix has an amused expression on his face, mustache hiding his smug grin at escorting yet another young lady into his presence. Once again, those pesky rumors plague him. He had recently had several of his staff retire, having been with him for over a decade, following him from his homeland to this new place. Close companions over those years, an understanding between them regarding how he would like the estate run and the boundaries concerning privacy. Yet they were already into their years when they followed him, and he could not bear to keep them here when they desired to return to their true home and be with family.

Word spread of his estate needing workers to step in, and it's true he did need new individuals to help, but not the way the rumors had exaggerated; mostly it was errand runners and cooks that he needed, with space for maybe a single maid or two to step in. For all that he was a large man, he wasn't fond of mess and clutter, and beyond the habitual cleaning the estate didn't require much upkeep. Yet in came what seemed to be half of the workforce's maids, each claiming to want to work for him yet looking at him as though he were going to force them to sign their names in a black book. He has no desire to keep staff that are terrified of him, and even less desire to feel uncomfortable in his own house. He looks towards this hopeful woman and pauses, taking her in. He is used to people being frightened by him, but this is something else. Her body is thinner than he suspects it should be, like a tree choked by mistletoe, something leeching the life from her bones. Skin pallid as though she's fighting off something and being left empty as a result. Eyes that are focused yet tired, not yet able to rest...

"Name?" He asks, watching her jump slightly before she responds. "Business?" He keeps his questions short; if she has a problem with it she says nothing, which is good. He hates having to try and string together long sentences around people who do not know his native tongue. "I'm a maid, sir" Ah, he was right. This should be over quickly then. "Employer?" "Duke-Duke MacTavish, sir." He watches her bite her lip, strained smile falling while rubbing her fingertips on her skirt. Ah, MacTavish. His lips purse under his shroud. He'd had the...pleasure of seeing the man for the first time at a gala the previous summer. The man had been quite boisterous, making his rounds to chat with most everyone before settling amongst his friends. Throughout the night Konig had watched everyone, and found himself tired of Duke MacTavish's need to fawn and fool with the ladies that evening, both courtly and common alike. He glances back at the maid in the chair in front of him, observing how she fidgets, before the idea comes to him.

She bears resemblance to a deer. Like a doe, stark against the white snow, eyes taking in everything as though readying for an escape at any moment. A prey animal spooked from its den by something, running from a greater threat than he. Something close to home perhaps, that left her under duress in such a way that she could not help but show signs of wearing down. An endurance predator, running her into the ground, a feeling he has caused hunting both man and beast. The concealed look of panic in her eyes is not something he caused, given the startling way she looks him in the eye as she waits for his next question, and he finds himself less put-upon than before. "Skills?" It does no good to take in someone if they cannot earn their keep. "Sweeping, dusting, washing of both laundry and dishes, polishing, folding, and mending to name a few" Good. Very good. He stands, letting out a sigh as he feels his back pop slightly. He makes his way around the desk, extending a hand to her to help her up. She takes it gently, not with hesitation but with care to be soft with him. It's enough to make his lips quirk a little, someone so small and fragile compared to him worrying about causing him harm. She keeps her head down as he gently ushers her out of the office and towards the front door, her head down. Once she reaches the door though, he speaks. "Next Monday" "Sir?" She asks, staring up at him, brows pinched in confusion. "Start next Monday. Come at 9. Bring all things, Annika will show you everything." He watches as she realizes that she will in fact be employed, escaping whatever he's sure haunts her at the duchy. The relieved smile she gives him makes something in his chest twitch, her face lighting up and shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you, my Lord! I will be sure to be on time!" She gives him a curtsy which he inclines his head at, and then she's off down the cobblestone path towards a waiting carriage. Once the door shuts, he groans and rolls his neck, hearing several of the bones pop. He marches back into the office and hooks the bag with his fingers, marching towards the mudroom and the sprawling expanse of woods beyond. The papers can wait, he's earned some time to himself.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Christmas special Eri x RoR please? (This might be a bit scary)

Reader was told about not just Santa but also about Krampus and feels sad for him

So she tries to stay up the whole night to meet Krampus because she wants to give him something

She falls asleep only to wake up to the sound of hooves and is shocked to see Krampus in her home! (He came for Loki to punish him for being naughty again this year)

Rather than be afraid of Krampus, Eri runs over to him and gifts him the scarf she wanted to give him so he can stay warm as well as some cookies she made with the help of Mama Eve (Krampus is touched by her generosity as he simply pats her head and leaves, sparring Loki for being punished this year)

This is not based off the Krampus movie but Krampus from German Mythology (I want to think of Krampus as a sort of Demon that only comes around Christmas)

Krampus mostly comes to punish Loki for constantly being naughty (No one helps Loki because they don’t want to be on Krampus’ ‘Shit List’)

Krampus is the son of Hel from Norse Mythology

Please get plenty of rest and take your time!

-You were still learning about Christmas, being with your new family, and that it was celebrated differently all over the world, with some things being the same, like presents and pretty decorations.

-It was Nikola who told you about someone named Krampus. Some, like Adam, were worried that you might get scared hearing about the scarier spirit of Christmas, who would come to teach naughty children a lesson alongside Santa, beating them with birch branches.

-You learned of the Krampus parades, seeing people dressing up to walk the streets, scaring children into behaving, and that even many adults, like Loki, were scared of him.

-You learned Loki was a repeat offender causing Krampus to visit almost every year to punish Loki, but instead of feeling scared, you shocked Nikola, Loki, and Adam by bursting into tears, feeling sorry for Krampus, as he was just doing his job.

-It took almost a half an hour and some fresh baked cookies from Eve to calm you down, but she thought it was sweet that you were so sympathetic towards Krampus, showing your kind heart.

-When you told your family you were going to stay up to meet Krampus, they were amused, thinking you were going to try to wait up to see Santa. You begged Brunnhilde to take you out so you could go shopping, finding a long scarf, using your allowance money to buy a scarf and you did your best in wrapping it, but it didn’t look pretty compared to the beautifully wrapped presents under the tree, but you were determined to make Krampus know that he was loved just as much as Santa!

-When the night finally arrived, you had two plates of cookies, one for Santa and one for Krampus, and carrots for the reindeer, as well as your present for Krampus, a blanket wrapped around you as you were determined to meet him!

-You made it about forty minutes before you tipped over, fast asleep.

-Thankfully, that night you were a light sleeper, and you awoke to the sound of footsteps and what sounded like hooves as you saw up, looking a bit delirious as both Santa and Krampus froze, seeing you awake.

-You froze, your eyes going wide and Santa was going to play interference, not wanting you to get scared of Krampus, only for you to leap off the couch and rush towards Krampus, leaping into his arms.

-They both froze, Krampus looking at Santa with a ‘what do I do’ look on his face as he was panicking as you pulled back, your eyes sparkling brightly, “You really came! I’m so happy!” what the what?

-You scurried back to the couch, grabbing your present, handing it to him, “Here, this is for you!” Krampus was stunned as he kneeled, seeing the gift for him, and he opened it, finding a scarf and he looked at you, seeing your beaming face before he lifted a clawed hand and patted your head.

-Santa chuckled warmly, coming over and patted your head as well, “What a sweet child you are Y/N- you have such a big heart.” You looked a bit sheepish, apologizing to Santa that you didn’t have a gift for him, which made him pat your head even more, “Silly Y/N- you already gave me your gift, you showed me an example of the true meaning of the season, helping and being kind to others.”

-You beamed, happy that you managed to give him a gift too, as they both enjoyed your cookies. Krampus agreed to let Loki go this year but left him a letter with a hoofprint on it, a warning, while Santa took you outside, letting you feed and pet his reindeer before they returned you to the couch where you quickly knocked out again.

-The following morning Loki was hugging you, tears streaming down his face as he thanked you for saving him this year while Odin couldn’t help but laugh, seeing the threatening letter Krampus had left for him, but he knew Loki wouldn’t behave, it wasn’t in his nature.

[meli-writes]

payload

"nah, this is too good to be true," the merc-rebel-something mutters. she turns, twiddling the combat knife in her hand and stopping only to point it at you. "you wanna tell me what trap i've walked into, sweetheart?"

you eye the databox, stuffed with weeks and months of upcoming junta plans. and more besides. enough intel to butcher hundreds of their bootlickers, least until they figure out they're compromised.

"i have it -- for my own reasons," you taunt like the bellow of rotten, felled tree. "making my mark, if you have to know."

"is daddy-dictator's special girl staging a rebellious phase in her twenties?" the merc mocks. "smuggle a bunch of data to what sell for tattoo money?"

you didn't plan an answer for a question like this, and it's hard not to just gawk and fumble at your cuffs.

"maybe -- if it's not a trap -- the intel lasts a week," she continues. and besides that, you urge in your own head. "that's the only part with access dates in years. rest is outdated crap."

"w-what do you--"

you shut up when she stalks up, lifts chin with the little blade's point with just enough force to dip it in red.

"you living out some little fantasy right now?" she asks, as much curious as annoyed. "because i really think that'd be a mistake."

it takes a lot not squeal. "i-i'm a valuable hostage, my family will pay well."

"they will," the merc muses, "and i think you knew that." in a glance she's seen right through, smiles at the confirmation you haven't realised you just gave away. "you leaked your convoy's route didn't you? playing hero, thinking you're gonna make us a pretty penny and then waddle back to your parties and soirées."

you buck up above the point of the knife, "you think i like being around them? they're monsters. and i have to pretend to be one, and you have no idea what that does to you."

her brow raised, she stays quiet, listens.

"but i stood up, just like you did. i'm doing what i can."

and she laughs.

"ah-hahaha! oh saints, how many years you been saving up that little speech, sweetheart? or bleeding heart i should say."

"too many," you spit.

"hmm. good answer," she smirks, putting a hand on your shoulder and hoisting you towards her own vehicle. "you're staying restrained."

"b-but i'm helping you!" you gasp.

"your round ass for ransom helps me -- you don't," she makes clear, makes sure to enunciate it with a squeeze that presses into your collarbone. "and i don't trust you, so i'm not interested in giving you the chance to try anything. don't think i haven't killed prettier things than you.

don't think i regretted it either."

[takaraphoenix]

Ooh.. so now I’m curious. I’ve never given it much thought but do you have a family tree for stiles that you use or do you just change up his family when you want to make something work for a story? I’ve never thought about his family outside of the sheriff to be honest.

I do not change it up!! Hate changing things up. Once I decide on it, it is set. But Stiles' family tree is something that's still a work in progress in a way. I have the closer family established in my head, but since he is of Polish ancestry, there needs to be bigger family because I have it on good authority that family's very important in Poland too - something I highly relate too - so I kinda want there to be great-grandaunt and her family too, the side of the family that still lives in Poland. Haven't had a plot that features them yet though so they are just a vague concept.

Noah's side of the family is less fleshed out though. I only got his parents, Eliasz and Janina Zieliński, aka Elias and Jane Stilinski, who changed their names to appeal better to American palates and didn't argue when their last name was misspelled upon entering the country (because Stilinski isn't an actual Polish surname and a nonsense word so I needed to justify that somehow and Americans making up surnames for immigrants because they don't care is... not a new concept. So I picked one that phonetically would be close enough to maybe be a misheard and then misspelled.)

We know grandpa Stilinski sucked, but I think grandma Stilinski was a nice and kind woman, very soft spoken though so she never stood up to her husband.

Claudia's side of the family I have more fleshed out though.

Mieczysław Gajos, aka the only one who has a canon name and thus technically actually exists in canon, was a strict and stern man. He absolutely hated that Claudia married a man so fully removed from his Polish roots (my headcanon that John never learned the language, or culture, because his parents were so set on Americanizing themselves). But he loved his daughter and grandson very, very fiercely and was incredibly proud that she named her kid after him. In canon main timeline, I do headcanon him to be dead but I do have a fic planned where he's very importantly alive (and where I will most likely also get to explore the extended family more).

His wife, Małgorzata Gajos, known as Granny Gosia, was much more forgiving and the member of the Gajos family who was the most welcoming toward Noah, however I headcanon that she died even before Claudia, so when Claudia died, Noah had no one left who was on his side.

In my mind, Claudia has a younger brother named Stanisław, who usually just goes by Stan. I first mentioned him and his kids in Delivery Upon Death and had him turn his back on Stiles and his dad.

I'm kind of ping-ponging between uncle Stan's family cutting ties with Noah after Claudia's death, or, the more painful headcanon I used in Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy), where they actually took Stiles in and raised him for a stint as a kid after Claudia's death, after Noah became an alcoholic.

That something happened that got CPS on the map, personal favorite that Stiles accidentally set the kitchen on fire trying to cook dinner because he was an eight year old child who shouldn't have to cook. And then Stiles spent some time under uncle Stan and aunt Carol's care.

Carol is a Texan country gal, big and loving and she doted on Stiles a lot while he was under their care.

They got two daughters, Maggie and Miri, who Stiles grew up close with and grew even closer to when he lived with them. Maggie is roughly Stiles' age, while Miri is a few years younger than them but loves to trail them. He learned riding with them. Yes, Stiles can now ride in any of my universes because I like the idea of him and horses (which is mildly hilarious to me, because I do not like horses).

I'll get around to making a proper family tree for Stiles once I ironed out the extended family, plus I'm still smoothing out the edges of the Hale family tree because I haven't fully settled on all angles there.