#ok i’m reblogging this better work

[keywhole]

yall r joking if u don’t think these guys are just losers who love picross.

this is almost word for word a conversation that happened in a group chat in which i wanted to torture my brother with the sheer idea of picrosses but i ended up starting a picross epidemic. these freaks would fucking love picross. credit to @sparrowchute for actually doing said dog picross.

[smokbeast]

(UPDATED) COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

Hi hello hi! Commissions are open! if you are interested here is a google form below with all the info at hand about my commissions and workflow! If you have any questions my DMS are open to answer and talk it out, thank you so much, reblogs are extremely appreciated to spread the word as I would like this to be my main post for commissions from now on!

Busts sketches(colored/BW):20$ Fullbody sketches(colored/BW): 30$ Busts cleaned Lines(colored):30$

Fullbody cleaned Lines(colored):40$ Full Rendered illustrations:80-86$ (price range may change depending on complexity)

-an extra character counts as another illustration and will be a fee of the price doubled of what you have chosen. 

-There is an allowance of 3 revisions after the line art is complete, 

after that if you want changes, it will be a fee of 5+dollars for any additional changes after the line art has been considered approved.

-simple backgrounds are allowed for the Cleaned Flat commissions if the client so desires. 

-sketch commissions may be shaded in black and white or simple flat colors (no rendering). lineart commissions can be with or without colors if so desired.

-Illustration pieces are large entirely intricate rendered scene artworks with very detailed backgrounds and character.

-tips are optional and greatly appreciated!

[ssreeder]

I'm so looking forward to iroh and zuko properly talking and seeing irohs reaction to zuko being gay.

Like we all know he doesn't agree with the fire nation rn but how will he react?

Will he not support him cause sokkas a guy? Will he not support him because it's SOKKA? Will he accept him? Will he reveal he's known for years zuko was gay?

Especially with everything that happened with zhao, regarding to what jee said to bato on their date. (Which is a very understandable perspective, zuko just got out of this very sexually traumatising situation and almost immediately starts a relationship (his first relationship) with sokka, but then again it is a very unique situation)

One thing I love about some atla fics is how they portray the FNs thoughts on queerness, cause on one hand they were one of the only country's (I think) that treated men and women the same but then again it's also the fucking fire nation.

And I also think zukos whole canon arc can be very comparative to queerness,

His dads an asshole and after speaking out against him he throws him out, and zuko try's for 3 years to regain his father's love and acceptance, and then faced with the opportunity of regaining it takes it immediately regardless of who or what he may hurt (iroh, his own morals etc) but once he makes it back home realises how fucked up everything is and eventually confronts his dad and openly tells him he doesn't agree with him then runs aways.

I also wonder if iroh secretly knows jee is queer it doesn't seem that likely to me but it also is iroh so who knows.

<3

I do think Iroh’s reaction will be a big moment for not only the story but for Zuko’s character development. Right now, Zuko’s technically still a prisoner, holding himself there by assuming Iroh will not understand or judge him when in reality he’ll never know what his uncle is thinking until they TALK ABOUT IT. (Which the FN royal family is just sooo good at healthy communication I don’t understand why this is so hard for them lol?!)

I do agree that the suddenness of the relationship combined with the intensity from both zuko and Sokka is very alarming for people looking at it from the outside (I mean we all totally get it cause we were there but others are like uhhhh hmmmm ok this might be concerning) so I get them gossiping and wondering if this is truly real or what the fucks going on with those boys.

I love Zukos canon arc because there’s just so much about zukos story that can be relatable no matter who you are and I think that’s why he is a fan favorite (it doesn’t explain why we torture him the way we do but ehhhh it’s fine haha)

Hmmmmmm does iroh know Jees gay? Depends on how saucy those music nights got ;)

[hopecomesbacktolife]

I’m not going to reblog the post itself because I don’t want that behavior on my blog, but oh my god I just saw a post about “looking for fics about your favorite character on ao3” and good lord the amount of bad takes both in that post and in the notes?? I have to just ramble about this for a moment because oh my god. it was ludicrous.

people were complaining that, and get this, unfinished fics exist. and that if you read an unfinished fic you’ll have to, get this, wait to read more until it’s published next. they were allll up in arms that there’s fics for a character that don’t cater to their specific interests. that they involve other characters and either do/don’t put them in a romantic relationship when they want the opposite for the character.

like at this point, most of you people in the notes on that post are 1) just being mean and condescending about FREE WORKS you can, may I remind you, READ FOR FREE and EXIT at ANY time! if you don’t like it!, don’t read it!, it’s so simple!, and 2) straight up do not know how ao3 works lmao

like I saw soooo many people in the notes complaining about a certain ship, dynamic, tag, etc, and like… y’all know you can filter by romantic vs platonic pairings, by ratings, by excluding certain tags or other qualifiers, etc etc etc… you know about ao3’s actually incredibly usable filtering and searching system… right… right??

at this point I’m just convinced a lot of these people are spoiled by large fandoms with 100k+ works for their characters and have decided to just be mean and condescending for no reason on main, about literally free fan works you can read for free any time that people spend hours and hours pouring their free time into out of sheer love for their craft. cuckoo bananas behavior if you ask me ����

I was legit so close to commenting that maybe they should try shipping two characters with <10 fics, with 0 fics, try liking a rare pair, try hyperfocusing on a character or niche type of fandom with a tiny but lovely circle of fans, and stop treating fan works and fic as Content TM that they deserve to have handed to them that caters to exactly what they want for free and maybe they’ll calm down lmao

like y’all aren’t cool you’re just being mean. we fundamentally approach fic in wildly different ways and honestly the way you do sounds exhausting. literally could not be me, I’m to busy finding joy in shared love for characters and not flipping the table in a rage because there’s one (1) element of the fic that isn’t specifically catered to me, maybe try that and you’ll feel better, hmm?

and yeah I’m aware that last sentence is me being condescending towards them, but frankly it’s warranted when so many people are being that mean and haughty for no reason lmao but truly those takes were horrific. fellow fic writers and even fellow fic readers I interact with, am mutuals with, authors whose works I read, readers who comment and interact with my works, fans of niche fandom subsets that run in the same circles as me— I hope you know this is so wildly not how I approach fics, I love just finding fics for my characters and forming these lil communities where we share our interests and love for them and hype each other up. I love what we have in these fandom niches and I hope you know I would never dream of being so mean and condescending towards y’all. fic writers and readers and fan communities are so special and I cherish it even if clearly there’s people in the notes on that other post who don’t know how to do that lmao. I love your unfinished WIPs, I love your fics that may only partially be what I’m looking for, I love when you write characters in a way I wouldn’t expect but shows your love for your particular headcanon, I love the variety and diversity and variance in fic. I love us. genuinely. fic writer moots I am hugging all of you and I frequently reread your works, even the unfinished ones. ♡

[pepprs]

ok i took a nap sorry for miseryposting

[simpjaes]

EROTIC EMPATHY (s.jy)

Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Nope. Are you about to? Yep. or the one where jake has a streak of bad luck in bed and his friends make fun of him for it, you find him advertising himself on a dating app and decide to help him out. 

minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it

WORDCOUNT― 12.7k

PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader 

CONTENT― virgin guy who lives with his parents!jake, he’s not shy but he is very clumsy, a lot of texting so be prepared for that, facetime-sex, real life sex

SIDE CHARACTERS― jay as reader’s best friend and roommate, heeseung briefly as jake’s friend.

NOTE― if you've read this before it's because im the person who wrote it [ncteez] and im revamping it for jake, pls don't send me messages on either account about stealing a work that's already mine!

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags―big huge dick jake, phone sex (ish), face time sex,  masturbation, pet name: baby, making out, he eats you out twice, fingering, whining and whimpering, deep throating, premature ejaculation, desperate man wants his dick wet lmao, grinding, tit fondling/licking, clit stimulation, he bites the fuck out of his tongue to try and distract himself from coming too soon again,  no condom aka cream pie, jake gets feelings like immediately when u touch him

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Check this shit out,” you laugh, presenting your phone to Jay with a chuckle. “yes or no?”

Jay snorts, nearly spitting out the bite of food in his mouth as he reads the bio of the man you’re showing to him.

“Depends, you trying to take his innocence or are you trying to get railed so hard that the entire building can hear?” He narrows his eyes at you, making a point to call you out for keeping him awake last weekend. 

You wave him off with an apologetic look. To be fair, the dude from before knew how to make a girl moan, it’s not your fault that you managed to find a decent lay in this city. Even if he ghosted you, you assume you may have been a bad lay for him, if anything. 

“I wouldn’t mind trying something new, dude seems desperate.” You swipe through his photos, seeing that he appears to be just a normal dude with normal interests. “He’s cute too, so I’m gonna say yes.”

Jay groans this time, slapping a hand to his forehead and glaring at you. 

“You’d better warn me if you end up bringing him home, I’m not about to listen to some guy start crying over a blowjob.”

You nod to him, sending a message to the eighty-two-year-old Jake and feeling delighted at his near-instant response to you. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure you’re out of the apartment if I invite him over,” You wiggle your brows as you stand to your feet and turn toward your room, eyes now glued to the open dating app’s messages. “Maybe you should go out and find a nice girl to rail to get back at me.”

“You’re so fucking weird.” Jay laughs but feels kind of shitty because it’s not like he hasn’t been trying to get back at you for the loud sex. Guess he just doesn’t have the magic dick to make girls moan the same way you do.

Not that he wants to make you moan or anything, he definitely doesn’t. If anything, he wishes you were more like the girls he brings home.

Fucking quiet.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You: i’ve never seen a virgin grandpa on this app before 

Jake: ….i’m 21, it says that in my bio

You: I think you’re lying. 

Jake: do u know how to change it, my bitch friends won't tell me lol

You: why would i help you lie to other women

Jake: i’m not lying!!1

You laugh to yourself as you text the new sex interest in your life, wondering if he’s lying about his presumed virginity. 

You: ok, twenty-one-year-old “jaeyun” who is five miles away from me, you’re actually a virgin? Like for real?

Jake: yea….are u here to make fun of me for it too? all the girls here just turn me down even if i offer to cook for them after

Jake: maybe it's the playlists idk

You: send me the playlist

Jake: [spotify link to a playlist titled “NUT”] 

You try not to snort, but you do. Given, he does have decent taste, but why anyone would have dynamite by bts and never say never by justin bieber on their sex playlist is beyond you. 

You: surely it’s not your playlist…….

You: anyway

You: you’re really just looking to get laid for the first time, like, ever? and you’re offering to cook dinner too?

Jake: yea

You: you’ve never had a blowjob or anything like that? you can’t seriously think I can believe you’ve never been laid, it’s not like you’re ugly or anything

Jake: u don’t think im ugly? :) 

Jake: and yea I’ve had a blowjob before

You: why didn’t you sleep with her then?

Jake: can we stop talking about why im a virgin

You: sure but you know im gonna bring it up again, right?

You’re smiling at your phone, finding him charming and awkward in how he communicates with you via messenger. Of course, you’re curious as to why he’s a virgin, even more, curious as to why he’s on a dating app looking to lose said virginity. 

You: do you want my number? it’s embarrassing to have the app open in public if i wanna talk to you.

Jake, on the other hand, is quite literally kicking his feet and checking your profile every few minutes just to look at you. He didn’t even think too hard about you calling him attractive then not following up on it, because the fact that you just offered your number to him in case you want to talk to him? Butterflies. Given, it’s juvenile for someone of his age to still be experiencing the typical high-school crush feelings, would anyone blame him? It’s just how he is, with or without having had sex. He can’t imagine not feeling giddy inside when he’s talking to someone that he thinks is pretty. 

Jake: yea :) u can text me whenever [redacted phone number] 

You respond to him by texting his number rather than using the app messenger, screenshotting his contact info, and sending it to him with a sly smile. 

You: [screen shot// contact name: grandpa jake] 

Grandpa Jake: :| 

Grandpa Jake: im 21

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, here’s the thing. Jake is undeniably funny, witty, and kind. Another thing, he’s wildly attractive. Especially upon fulfilling your request for a workout selfie from him. So, what gives? You read the texts he’s sent that made you laugh out loud, you look at his pictures, stare at the workout selfie, and you genuinely cannot understand how he doesn’t have women waiting in line to have at him. 

You: it’s been like four days since we started talking

Grandpa Jake: yep, almost five

You: four days of being friends but no mention of your bio on the app, yknow, where you’re begging to have sex for the first time ever?

Grandpa Jake: right, yea. you wanna do it? i didn’t wanna assume lol

You: not answering that til you explain why. i mean, it’s totally ok that you are but like, you’re a green flag all around so im a little worried you might have like a micropenis or something

Disclaimer, if he had a micropenis, you’d still let him use it on you. After all, hooking up is something you enjoy doing regardless of size.

Grandpa Jake: i do NOT have a micropenis

You: prove it

Grandpa Jake: right now???

You laugh to yourself but also like, it’s the first time the two of you have done anything more than bully each other. Or rather, you bully him and he defends himself constantly. 

You: answer my question first

It takes a few minutes for him to respond, but you’re doing coursework anyway so it’s not a huge deal. Totally not like your ears perk up and a smile creeps across your face every time your phone goes off or anything. Definitely not. 

Grandpa Jake: um… i still live with my parents and before u make fun of me for that pls understand that its not like i wanna be here 

Grandpa Jake: i have a job and everything!!! im not a mooch!

He’s getting off track again. You could honestly care less if he still lives with his parents. You wish you still lived with yours, to save money at least. 

You: they won’t let you have anyone over? 

Grandpa Jake: well, that too but 

Grandpa Jake: listen this sounds real stupid but it just never happened? even when i tried or things almost happened, it never did

You: damn, you’re unlucky. so what happened with the girl who gave you a blowjob?

Grandpa Jake: her boyfriend walked in

You: WHAT

You’re trying to pity him, honestly, but damn. Did he go for a taken girl? Yikes. You hate to admit the ick that just flooded your mind. 

Grandpa Jake: its not like i knew she had a boyfriend

You: phew 

Grandpa Jake: so yea. do u wanna help me out or not? 

The whole reason you started talking to him was specifically to help him out. Now that you know he’s not some weirdo, and is definitely super hot and funny, hell yes. 

You: yeah, sure. 

You: about the micropenis though, 

Grandpa Jake: right…um

A few minutes of silence, your coursework is long forgotten in the anticipation of receiving your first dick pic from Jake. You wait, and you wait, and you wait.

You: i mean if you can’t prove it that's ok 

Grandpa Jake:  just give me a sec damn

He’s doing his best to get the most attractive angle. It’s not like he’s never sent nudes to anyone or anything, but like– this is you. The first person to actually agree to take his virginity. Should he hold it? Put a remote next to it for size? Should he have his face in the pic? Take a mirror pic? 

Of course, as he’s taking several pictures of his length to try and impress you, he had to get hard first. He can’t imagine you’d want a flaccid cock pic in your inbox, and that would also mean that he’s working himself up with the amount of touching, holding, and groping throughout the past sixteen photos he’s taken and deleted. It’s at the point that now it’s actually hard to care about taking a photo, pre-cum already dripping out of him as he continues to try.

He’s entered the realm of his regular horny self, only this time he’s texting you. Someone who wants to see what he’s packing. Taking a dick pic is insanely easy once he stops thinking with his brain, and he’s quick to send you a photo of himself this time. His chin at the top of the picture, face entirely hidden, hand wrapped around his thick and leaking cock, sweatpants shoved down. 

Grandpa Jake: [image attachment] 

In all fairness, you’ve never actually cared much for dick pics. Men always look too confident even with the smallest of girth being offered through the pixels. Jake though. He looks a bit desperate even with his face hidden. His cock looks desperate, his fingers wrapped around it look desperate, the way his sweatpants hug against his thighs look desperate. And now, you feel desperate. You keep your cool though.

You: oh, you were jerking off, got it. 

Grandpa Jake: sorry can’t help it 

Then he doesn’t text you back. Which is kind of a drag because he looks to be quite big in the photo alone. Maybe you’d be okay just this once to look like the desperate one. Mostly because you’re about ten seconds from trying to figure out which direction five miles away he resides so you can go palm his cock for him. Plus, the idea of an absolute simp virgin like him seeing you act a little desperate would probably be one for the books. 

You: you know i can help you out with that, right? especially since you definitely don’t have a micropenis

You’re still being ignored. The silence from your phone makes your belly flip around inside of you at the image of him doing it too. He probably does it a lot. He’s probably desperate to feel good and watches porn like 24/7. You can imagine how he’d act if you were in front of him right now, the very idea of taking his virginity becoming entirely too attractive.

Shrugging, knowing full well what he’s doing right now that’s causing him to ignore you, you press the call button and wait. You’re a little bit nervous, mostly because you’ve never actually heard his voice before, or better yet how he sounds when he’s getting off. You’re shocked that he actually answers. 

“Hello?” He says, muffled through the phone and trying to sound not-so-out-of-breath. It’s not like he looked at who was calling him anyway. With his luck, it’s probably Heeseung or some shit.

“Don’t hello me,” You gripe, narrowing your eyes at yourself in your mirror. “You’re just gonna jerk off without me after I agreed to help you fix your little problem?” 

The silence on his end is a bit nerve-wracking until you hear the frantic sound of his palm clearly wreaking havoc on him. You smirk, leaning back on your chair and sighing. On his end, processing that it’s you on the other line sends his entire body into a state of burning with arousal. Your voice is sweet even when you speak with the same sarcasm as you do via text. 

God, this alone is enough for him right now. 

“Were you at least thinking of me?”

He hums into the phone, indicating that yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. His voice is kind of soft despite only hearing one word and a hum, you want to actually hear him talk to you, or moan, whichever he decides. 

“Were you looking at my pictures?”

He nods his head, forgetting that you’re not able to see him and instantly responds with a small and breathy yes instead. It’s a bit difficult for him to talk right now, especially now that he can put a voice to the photos he’s been jerking off to. It’s a bit overwhelming, actually.

“Do you want better ones?” You ask, encouraging him to speak a bit more. 

“Oh god, really?” He asks through the speaker, his hand pausing on his length as if to hold off until you confirm. “Like, nudes?”

“Mhm, yeah. If you want.” You smile as you speak to him, already standing to shimmy your pajamas off of you and stand in front of the mirror. “Or, you know what would be better?”

“Letting me come over and actually do it?” That’s what he wants to say to you, but he doesn’t, he simply raises a brow and bites his lip, trying to contain his excitement.

“What?” He asks, still keeping his responses short because despite how into this he is, he’s a bit shy about it. 

“I can facetime you.” 

He panics. That means you’ll be watching him too, right? Sure he’s sent nudes, he’s received nudes. He’s sent videos too, and received them. But never has he like, you know, live masturbated on facetime so someone else can watch. 

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” You backtrack at his silence, but you’re cut off almost immediately. 

“No! no, we can facetime–”

Your stomach flips again as you fix yourself quickly in the mirror before setting your phone against your desk and rolling back a bit in your chair to determine if it’ll work this way or not. It’s not like he’s expecting you to do it too, he probably just thinks you’re gonna sit here naked for him to stare at. You’re kind of excited to see him in action, to hear him in action for you.

You hit the button to switch the call over to facetime and once again adjust your phone as you stare at yourself in the camera. Then you’re needing to catch your breath at the image of him.

Oh fuck.

There he is, his camera angled towards his face and not at all toward what's going on below his waist, but you don’t mind at first. Looking at him, the lighting clearly shows that he’s a fan of mood lighting. You watch his eyes briefly, staring through the screen at you before moving your eyes to his arm, the one that clearly isn’t holding his phone because you can see it moving as he continues to jerk himself off. It’s an interesting feeling to have only seen him in photos until this moment, and it’s insanely attractive for some reason. Seeing him in motion, knowing what he’s doing, knowing that he feels good right now because of you.

“Let me see,” you say quietly, adjusting your bra strap and preparing to slip it off of you if he so much as asks. “Prop your phone up somewhere like I did.”

He nods, his eyes still staring straight through his screen at you as he moves around and the image becomes a blur of movement rather than his face. He settles in quickly, somehow looking even more attractive with the way his eyes no longer stare at the screen. You can almost sense a hint of shyness from him at this moment and it kind of floors you, given how easy he is to talk to and how easily he sent a dick pic to you.

“Feeling shy?” You ask, spreading your legs wide and cupping the seat of your panties, hiding the small spot of wetness forming there. “You act like I’m not going to be touching you at some point soon.”

You see him perk up, his eyes looking to you on the screen with more fondness than arousal. At the same time, his hand grips the base of his cock as he holds it straight up, erect and glistening proudly for you to look at. 

“You look pretty big, bet you could fill me up so nicely,” You try to compliment, boosting his confidence and ego as best you can simply because he looks pretty with a smile on his face. Especially when his cock twitches at the words. “Would you want to do that for me, Jake?”

“Oh god,” He groans, hearing his name come from your mouth for the first time. His hand jerks up his length once, almost aggressively as he winces at it. “This is going to be so embarrassing.” He admits now, sliding his palm up and down shamelessly as he watches between your spread legs. 

In a way, he wonders if you can see how desperate he is. There’s no way you can’t, right? Like, you can see how badly he wants you, right?

“Embarrassing, why?” You chuckle, tapping now at the spot between your legs. “Can you not see that I’m just as turned on right now?”

He groans again with deep breaths, releasing his length and using that same hand to swipe his hair out of his face, then immediately grimacing at the fact that he now has pre-cum in his hair. Embarrassing, all of it. 

“Well,” He tries to avoid you bringing up the fact that he just did that and only shoots his hand back to his cock in order to distract whatever off-hand shit you’re about to say. “You don’t even have your panties off yet, and I could probably get off right now.”

You laugh, not wanting to ruin the mood with the whole cum on his own face thing, so you save that for later. Instead, you instantly slip your panties off and present yourself to him much like he’s doing for you. 

“Better?”

Jake watched with his breath stuck in his throat, now finding it harder to breathe at the image of your pussy and the way he hopes he can touch it one day. 

“Can you–” He pauses, not being used to dirty talk towards anything other than the porn playing on his phone. He thinks hard, and you can see it based on the way he, once again, neglects his cock with an unmoving palm.

“Can I do what?  Go on,” You urge him, running a hand up to your chest and fondling your nipples right there in front of him, but not yet moving the fabric. “What do you want me to do for you, baby?”

Baby. You called him baby. Not that he’s into that but the fact that you did it makes him wonder if he is now. Maybe it’s because he wants you to take him for all he’s worth at this point. One, to get rid of the virginity looming over his head, and two, because you sound so fucking smooth when you’re watching him get off. 

“Can you spread your pussy for me?” He whispers at first, uncaring of how dirty it sounds falling out of his throat with a moan. 

His eyes are boring a hole through his screen as he watches one of your hands tease at your hidden nipples, and the other hand sliding up and down the wet folds there. So badly does he want to see it. He wants to see your hole pulsing for him, leaking, needy. Just like him.

His cock twitches wildly the second you do it for him. Two fingers spreading your pussy open and tensing your hips just to move it closer to the screen for him. 

“Is this what you want?” You start, making damn sure he can see every part of your glistening cunt. “You want to fuck this?” You chuckle now, slowly dipping a finger into yourself and pulling it back out to present the wetness for him.

“Oh,” he sighs, now fucking into his fist at a pace that proves he’s most definitely never fucked a woman before. “Fuck.”

You nod at him, urging him to keep admitting his attraction to you. You’re aware he doesn’t see it though, as his hips continue to move quicker and quicker each time you press your finger into yourself. 

“You gonna act like this when I’m riding you?” You ask with a tilted head, studying how hard he’s fucking against his hand. You can imagine how good it would feel if it were you, and quite frankly, this one finger isn’t enough at this point. 

“God. You’re gonna ride me?” He moans, eyes rolling only slightly as he imagines it, mouth falling open at the mere thought of it. 

“Mhm,” you hum, now sliding in another finger and scissoring yourself open with them. “Would you want that?”

Before you can even work yourself up, and before he can even answer that question, you see him release. His cum shooting out in spurts across his stomach and nearly up to his chest. His labored breathing shifts the lighting against his abs and makes him look so entirely delicious. You’ve never wanted to lick a man clean so badly in your life.

You’re not even upset that he didn’t make it into the knitty gritty, considering he’s a virgin and all and you’re literally fucking yourself in front of him while implying riding him. You’re actually flattered. 

His release caused him to see white for several moments, forgetting he’s even on camera for you. When he comes back to reality, watching you continue to finger yourself as your eyes scan your screen, all he can do is feel bashful. 

“S-shit, sorry,” He comments with a half laugh, looking down at his cum covered chest before looking at you again. Honestly, he could probably go again if you let him watch for a bit longer, but he’s embarrassed now. “I uh, didn’t mean to come that fast. It just kind of happened.”

“It’s okay,” You comfort him, slightly out of breath as you wonder if this is all you’re gonna get tonight. “It was cute.”

After a few moments, you sense his embarrassment and slowly slip yourself back into a sobering headspace, closing your legs and trying to ignore how wet you still are.

“Are you, um, done?” Jake says, disappointed.

“Mm, no.” You smile. “But it’s okay, I’d rather make you come first anyway.”

His face lights up despite the disappointment in his gut of not being able to see you get off. 

“You still wanna see me after this?”

You nod with a smile, endeared by his need to give, but inability to do it.

“When are you free?” You ask, wondering if he’s ever going to clean himself up. 

“Whenever you are.” He laughs, scratching the back of his head with, once again, the same cum-stained hand. 

“I’ll text you later then,” You smile through the screen and give a small wave before your genuine smile turns into a smirk. “After I take care of my little problem though.”

You notice him sitting up in protest, but you hang up with a satisfied laugh and head to the shower to both finish yourself off and clean up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Grandpa Jake: what about 3pm on thurs?

You: you want to lose your virginity at 3pm….on a thursday???

Grandpa Jake: my parents have plans so ill have the house to myself for a few hours

You: or you could just come here? 

Grandpa Jake: if ur comfortable with that? i thought u were supposed to come here lol

You: im comfortable, plus my roommate will kick your ass if you’re weird

Jake contemplates hard on that last part but shrugs over it. Probably a girl thing, and it’s not like he’s an actual creep or anything. You’d be the one with power over him when the two of you are alone anyway. 

You: what about tomorrow, 8pm? 

Tomorrow. Hell yeah, tomorrow. God, he’d show up right the fuck now if you let him. He may live with his parents but he’s got a car. 

Grandpa Jake: send ur address, ill be there :) 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Tomorrow, you’ll be a man.” Heeseung croaks through the speaker at Jake, totally assuming that this whole virginity loss dating app plan was actually just a joke. 

“Why do you have to say it that way?” Jake groans back, slapping his hand over his forehead and rubbing his temples. “I didn’t think anyone was actually gonna come through, she’s the first one.”

“What makes you think she’s actually gonna send you her address?” Heeseung laughs, once again placing more pity onto his best friend than anything else. “She’s probably not even a real person, you’re gonna end up at some old guy’s house.”

Jake laughs, or snorts really. 

“Oh, she’s real.”

Heeseung sits up in curiosity this time, switching his phone to the other ear with interest. 

“Hm? Have you already met her?”

“Kind of. We like, um,” Jake pauses, wondering if he sounds way too excited to tell him or not. “We facetimed a few hours ago.”

Silence.

“She got naked.”

“Oh ho ho!” Heeseung encourages him. “So you guys did some stuff on facetime and she still wants to meet you?” 

“That’s what I said–wait,” Jake smiles to himself, about two seconds from kicking his feet before realizing what Heeseung just said. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re kind of a loser, we’ve been over this.” Heeseung laughs yet again. “Call me when you get your cherry popped or whatever.”

Then he hangs up. 

Grandpa Jake: do u think im a loser?

You: yeah kinda

You’re laughing at his text as you sit across the table from Jay.

“That him texting?” Jay quirks a brow, watching you smile at your phone and practically ignore him. 

You laugh again at Jake’s string of defensive texts before responding with a short “it’s okay, i like losers”, and putting your phone down to finish telling Jay that he’s gonna get kicked out tomorrow for the night. 

“So,” You clap your hands in front of yourself, glaring at Jay. “You’re gonna have to be gone tomorrow at eight because I'm about to literally obliterate this guy.”

“Jesus, I’m scared for him.”

“You should be scared for me. Because, well…” You trail off for a second, scrolling up your texts to see the dick pic Jake sent before the facetime call. “He’s huge and–”

“I did not need to know that.” Jay sighs, scooting back in his chair and standing to his feet. 

“You act like you don’t ask every time I fuck someone.” You roll your eyes at him, smiling. “Weirdo.”

Jay stands there awkwardly before shrugging and lunging for your phone. 

“How big?” He laughs, not actually trying to see the dude’s dick but always way too curious for his own good despite never wanting to be around to hear what the big dicks do to his best friend. 

“Stop prying, you’ll get jealous.”

He scoffs, brushing off his pants of invisible dust and crossing his arms. 

“I’ll have you know, my dick is perfectly sized.”

“I’m sure it is. Anyway, tomorrow, be gone.” 

He nods, sauntering to the living room and flopping down on the couch. 

“Keep it in your room, please. I don’t want to sit on any cum when I get home.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s Thursday. It’s approximately seven in the evening on Thursday and you’re well aware that Jake is probably bubbling with anxiety if his texts are anything to go by. 

So many “are you sures,” so many “you can tell me to leave if you decide you don’t want tos,” and even more “i can’t wait to see yous.”

“Jay, aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” You ask, opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. 

You’ve already showered again today, primped yourself up for him really. Everything smooth, soft, and ready to be touched. You wonder if Jake is doing the same, and smile.

“Hm, yeah. But I kinda wanna see him before I leave.”

You turn your head to him with a curious look, glaring only slightly.

“I swear to god if you scare him off, I’m kicking you out.”

Jay laughs, patting the couch as if to invite you to sit with him to ease your own anxiety. He can smell the familiar lotion you use before dates, and he notes that you’ve really tried to look good today. 

“I think you might kill him, if I’m being honest.” Your best friend laughs softly, complimenting you. 

“Thanks, that’s the plan.”

And so, the two of you sit together laughing at stupid comedy shows until your phone lights up at around seven thirty. 

Grandpa Jake: i’m a little early, is that ok? 

“Oh shit, he’s here.” You immediately feel nervous, which is pretty normal for you anyway so it’s easily overlooked by Jay. 

He jumps up, brushing off his clothes and walking toward the kitchen to grab his keys and wallet. 

“Let him in then, I’ll leave when he gets here.”

You give him a knowing look before nodding. 

You: second floor, take a left when you get to the top of the stairs, third apartment on the left.

Within minutes, there’s a very gentle knock on the door and Jay is throwing himself at it to get a look at him. Unfortunately it’s a bit more awkward than he expected it to be. 

Not only did Jake think your roommate was a woman, but he, at the very least, expected you to answer the door. He was preparing himself all day for this moment, to knock on your door and have you open it. At first he thought that maybe he even got the wrong apartment. 

“Oh, I think I got the wrong place, sorry–” 

“Nope, you’re in the right place.” Jay smiles, stepping to the side and opening the door wider for him. “You can come in.”

Jake does, awkwardly. Avoiding eye contact with Jay and barely even looking into the apartment before stepping inside. 

“She got all cleaned up for you.” Jay whispers, throwing Jake a wink before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Jake still hasn’t really looked up from the floor yet, and you make quick work to make him feel more comfortable. 

“Don’t mind him, that’s my roommate.” You say, making your way toward him and trying your best not to stare because, okay, wow. He’s kind of ten times more attractive in person, which is fucking insane considering how good he looked through a screen. 

“Have you and him ever like…” Jake immediately starts, realizing he might have made things weird. 

“Jay?! Oh, god no.” You laugh, reaching for his arm and feeling him lean into it with relief. “You’re allowed to look up by the way. You’ve been staring at that crack in my floor since you got here.”

Immediately Jake moves his eyes up to you, the eye contact feeling more intense than it should, but you’re locked in too. The awkwardness dissolves almost instantly, he feels no need to question you further about anything really, especially with the way he feels his throat run dry at the very idea of this whole plan actually happening at some point.

When he made his profile on that app, it was kind of a half joke until like, people started talking to him. Given, no one ever followed through but you, he’s happy he stuck with it. Happy you came out of the works from said dating app, happy you picked him. 

Really though, he picked you. Part of you wonders about why you want to take this from him. For power, for control, to be praised, to feel like you’re his entire world of desire for a brief time? All of those things, yes, but you can admit now that he’s in front of you that it’s a bit intimidating. 

He’s not shy at all, just a bit awkward. He seems confident, he seems ready, and you find yourself lucky for being the one to get to do this for him, or with him. If at all, Jake is the type of man you could see yourself hanging out with often, with or without having sex. 

Given, upon seeing him face to face for the first time, the only thing you thought about was how attractive he is. Now though, as you look back at him along with the silence of this apartment offering nothing more than awkwardness, it’s not. Because you’re seeing him for all he is and he appears to not be able to help it. Is this what people mean when they say there’s an instant spark between two people? Despite how attractive he is, you find yourself thinking of how many times he’s made you laugh in the short period of time you’ve known him along with how many times he’s willingly embarrassed himself

And now for the first time, he’s right there and all you want to do is…give him exactly what he wants.

“Okay, listen,” You start, swallowing around a lump in your throat as you feel your body heat up at record speed by just having his eyes looking into yours. You know by this point that you’re not going to be keeping your hands to yourself at all. And for his sake, he’d probably prefer it that way. “If I move too fast, just tell me to stop.”

Jake tilts his head with a dopey smile, eyes still fixed on you, scanning you, coming to terms with the fact that you’re absolutely everything he thought you would be and more. 

“I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue,” He admits, feeling his length confined within his pants twitch wildly at the fact that this is happening. “I struggled not to get hard just driving over.” He laughs, looking away from you for the first time with flushed cheeks. 

You find that painfully adorable. No man would ever admit that to you. Especially after just a few minutes of meeting in person for the first time, but this is Jake and in the short amount of time you’ve known him, you’re kind of expecting him to be really forward and say things that will have you frozen in thought.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen. You’re pretending that his apparent inexperience isn’t getting to you, but you’re not really fooling anyone. “Let’s get you some water or something, I can see you drooling.”

Jake laughs, shrugging because yeah maybe he’s drooling a little bit. You smell fucking immaculate, your hand is small in his but still manages to overpower him, your skin feels soft and slightly cold. Honestly, it’s dangerous just having you stand in front of him right now because he could absolutely blow his load just by you looking at him. Embarrassing? Always.

He follows after you, very nearly crowding up to you as the comfort sets in and the last bit of awkwardness leaves his mind. All he can think about is how you sounded over that facetime call. He’s seen what’s between your legs, and during that night all he could think about was touching you, fucking you. 

Now he’s here, and you’re right there. 

It’s hard not to crowd up, it’s hard not to cling to you, it’s hard not to be excited. Seeing your hand wrapping around that bottle of water to give to him, seeing you lean just before grabbing it– of course he’s staring. Of course he’s crowding closer, almost to the point that he’s up against your ass when you lean back up from the fridge.

You turn after grabbing him the bottle and are shocked by his close proximity when you face him. He looks down at you with a soft face, one that shows he’s not embarrassed by how he immediately attaches to you. His smile is just as clumsy as he is, you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing too. You’re glad, because it makes it entirely too easy to drop the water bottle, grab his face, and chase his lips all the way until he’s against the counter and kissing you back. 

He sighs instantly into it, wincing at the way the kitchen counter hits his back, you pressing against him so harshly just to get that first taste of his lips. He’s excited that you seem as eager as him, maybe even as desperate as him. 

For you, a man has never been this eager just to kiss you, nor has a man ever kissed you this good. You can imagine that he’s probably got a lot of experience in terms of kissing, not much elsewhere though. You can tell by the way he moves his hands to all of the right places, but his blatant virginity shows through all of it as he becomes a horny mess almost instantly. 

His tongue is warm and wet, small whining sounds coming from his throat as you press yourself against him briefly. His hands never leave your body and he shows no shame in touching where he wants to touch. Rubbing, groping, and caressing every inch of your waist, ass, and even moving up to your face to deepen the kiss. His hips press forward almost constantly, and all you can do is brace yourself on the counter behind him to try and tame his relentless hips and obvious attempts at rushing what he wants right now. 

If you’re going to sleep with him though, he’s gonna get the full experience, not a quickie. Plus, you agreed to keep it in your room for Jay’s sake. 

“Hey,” you sigh, trying to pull back from the kiss but he isn’t having it. Still kissing against you and running his lips down to your neck when you continue to speak. “We should go to my room, your first time isn’t about to be in my kitchen.”

“Why not?” He groans against your neck, kissing harshly with faint wet sounds, his hands wrapping tightly around your waist now. “I don’t care where we do it, i just want you like, really bad.”

Still, his lips don’t leave you, nor do his hands. You find yourself giggling against him with a shake of your head at the way he protests when you pry yourself from his grip. Of course, though, he’s immediately clinging to you and chasing after you to your bedroom before practically throwing himself at you again.

You barely get the door closed before he’s pressing you against the wall, hand running down again to your waist and easily snaking up your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin. You let him, enjoying the way he kisses you for just the second time, enjoying more the way you can feel him lose his composure every few minutes from this alone. 

You’re kind of in love with the fact that he doesn’t seem to want to pull back even for a breath. He seems to love kissing, and you wonder what else he’ll come to love doing tonight too. From the way he moves his tongue and his lips on you, you can imagine he’d be fucking heavenly at eating pussy.

Successfully you push him away again, rushing to your bed before he can make you melt against his lips for a third time, and you’re instantly trying to present yourself to him much like you did over camera. 

“You’re really going to let me?” He asks with a deep breath, brushing his hair out of his face and wiping his mouth. His brain malfunctions at your presumed answer to that question, watching you take your panties and shorts off in one go and leaning back to spread your legs for him. 

At this moment, you’re all his and you make it a point to spread your pussy out for him like he asked you to do before. You can practically see his knees buckle that very instant.

“To think I wouldn’t want to do this is insane,” You say, wiggling your hips for him to see. “Look how wet I am.” You pause, studying the hungry look in his eyes. “Do you wanna try eating me out?”

He doesn’t even nod. He’s immediately on his knees against your bed and gripping your thighs to pull you toward his face. You yelp only slightly at the movement, a chuckle coming out shortly after as you sit yourself up properly to take in the image of his eyes sparkling up at you. 

It looks like he’s been wanting to do this to someone all his life, with his needy body proving it time and time again. Your breath is caught in your throat, a small groan coming out at the image alone before you’re able to process words again. 

“Can’t believe how good you look down there,” You say softly, brushing his hair out of his face for him like he did to himself earlier. “Have you ever done this before?”

He shakes his head, eyes shifting from your pussy to your face. You can feel his nervous yet eager breath against you, making your eyelashes flutter at even that slight sensation. 

“Go on then.” You sigh out, trying to prepare for what he can manage with that pretty mouth of his.

You watch him and the way he doesn’t seem to think at all when he does it. Once again, he’s adorable. His tongue goes everywhere, only grazing your clit briefly every few licks, never staying on it presumably because he’s in the process of finding the clit based on how your body reacts. 

He has a general idea of where it is, but the feeling of having your pussy spread out like this on his lips alone is enough to overwhelm him with arousal, to the point he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing. All he can do is taste and smell the mixture of your warmth along with the soap and lotion you must have used before he came here. 

He’s quite literally tasting the entirety of you and loving every second of it. The way his hands grip your legs, both spreading them further open so that he can tilt his head and lick at different angles, and then hugging them to where they almost lock his head in place. 

It feels like he does this for ages, learning your body and what makes your legs shake. He sucks in different places, kissing your entire pussy to the point that it’s almost impossible for your legs not to shake in a reaction at what he’s doing to you.

Dare you say, a man who is inexperienced at eating a woman out somehow feels better than one who knows exactly where to go. 

“Fuck, knew you’d be good at this,” You compliment with a shaky voice, reaching down to his hair and holding his head in place. “Keep licking there, and use your fingers too.” 

He hums without stopping, taking note of where you place his lips and reminding himself that this is the clit, just as suspected. He attaches his lips there, kissing it much like he kissed you in the kitchen. 

You can feel his fingers make their way into you shortly after, each bump of his knuckle sending a delicious sensation throughout your body. You’re tingling from your head to your toes at this point and your face heats up beyond what you thought it would. Your hips move on their own in response, experimentally fucking against his fingers as he keeps his tongue flicking at you. 

“Just like that,” You encourage him, running your hands through his hair and looking down at him. Seeing his head move with each little thrust of your hips is only more arousing in this moment. His eyes half open, watching you, tasting you, almost smiling around your clit when he makes eye contact with you. 

It almost seems like he’s asking if he’s doing well, and goddamn is he. He’s doing amazing.

“So good,” You say shortly, trying to give him the praise he needs while scratching against his scalp as a thank you, still fucking your hips up just to feel his fingers plunge deeper. 

He, on the other hand, is fucking feral right now. Tasting you, dipping his fingers into you, feeling that warmth for the first time, the small clenches— he’s swimming in a fantasy. Every time you move your hips up, he can smell the entirety of you, he can feel your pussy squeeze his fingers, and god. He doesn’t think he ever wants this to end.

All day. He could do this all fucking day. No wonder men make fun of other guys for not giving head. Why wouldn’t they? He can feel your legs tensing up around his head, your gentle fingers running through his hair, the sounds coming from your lips. He’s in love, he’s in love.

He doesn’t stop, tongue flicking your clit so beautifully, fingers slowly fucking in and out of you, not even in time with your jerking hips. Shockingly, you approach orgasm so fucking fast that you can barely warn him, you’re not even thinking when you put pressure on his head, pressing his lips so harshly against your clit— his moan sending a vibration straight through you.

“Faster, with your fingers—“ You choke out in a drawn out and pornographic moan, curling your toes and feeling him do exactly as you say. 

There, you release with his fingers plunging in and out of you, the wet sound of your pussy only sounding more messy by the time you begin to release. In the midst of it all, you feel him pull his lips from your clit and lick around his fingers before coming back up and continuing his ministrations, working you through an orgasm you’re not even sure he knows you’re having right now.

Insane, really, that he needed to taste the messy relief before resuming. 

Strings of curses, little tugs against his hair, legs shaking, all of it happens at once until the feeling of his fingers become sensitive inside of you, until his tongue is flicking a bundle of nerves begging to be left alone. 

You swat him away with a smile, leaning up quickly and grabbing him by the shirt. 

He doesn’t really know what the fuck is going on but he laughs with you, being pulled to his feet and falling onto the bed on top of you. You can feel his cock in his pants, so fucking hard, probably leaking and feeling quite neglected.

“Did you…?” He asks softly, dipping his head shyly with his wet chin shining in the light of your room.

You smile at him, leaning up to kiss him square on the mouth before you flip him over and get between his legs. 

“I did,” You laugh in a daze, starting to work on his button and zipper. You’re reeling from the recent orgasm and want nothing more than to let him feel the same way you do right now. “And now, I'm gonna do the same for you.”

He chokes out a nervous laugh, holding your hand in place from pulling his pants down.

“Unless, you don’t want that?” You ask, tilting your head with a bit of a frown.

“N-No!  It’s not that!” He reassures you, cheeks flushing more than they already were. “It’s just that– like, what if I don’t last very long? I’m kind of sensitive.”

His eyes avoid yours when he says it and once again, most adorable man award goes to fucking Jake.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” You lean forward, kissing him again. “You just gave me some of the best head in my life.”

The light in his eyes returns and instantly he’s flashing a nervous smile at you. 

“Jake, I’ve never gotten off that fast from being eaten out.” You reassure him again, making a point to use his name loud and clear. “If you don’t get off from me sucking your cock, I might actually cry.” 

Well, he can’t have that now, can he? 

He releases your grip on his jeans, allowing you to pull them down. For some reason unable to look at you despite knowing you’ve seen him jerk off before. It’s the fact that like, what if it’s suddenly not big enough? What if his cock is ugly or curved in a way you don’t like?

Before he can even start to doubt himself more, he feels your lips on the tip and instantly his eyes are looking down at you. You’re the one smiling now, using one hand to hold his base and the other hand already scooping up his balls for added pleasure. 

You make a point to look him in the eye as you let the saliva collect in your mouth when you pull back slightly. There, you let it fall from the tip of your tongue, all the way until you feel the wetness against your fingers wrapped around his base. 

He thinks he’s going to go fucking insane watching you like this, and god, does he. You don’t even show him your struggle of taking in the sheer size of him. Lowering your mouth until you’re taking him in as much as you can. You try to keep eye contact up until you have to close your eyes. 

It’s not shocking that by the point you get half of his length into your mouth, he’s fucking up without full intention and letting out a choked apology. Still, you try to force your stretched lips to smile for him, even through the gag, even through the harsh feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

How the fuck has a cock this good not been worshiped before? By a mouth? A hand? A pussy? You’ll be damned not to choke on it. You’d rather eat glass than to let him leave this apartment without being completely emptied and praised for every drop. 

He’s actually struggling already not to come, holding himself back but failing each time his hips chase the warmth of your throat. Each time you gag, it stimulates the fuck out of his cock and he nearly wants to cry each time it happens. Even with that other girl who went down on him, she didn’t even attempt to fit this much in her mouth. Most of the pleasure came from her hand jerking him off while she suckled against his head, but you. You’re down there, slipping your mouth up and down on him like that, gagging, tearing up, and still fucking smiling about it. 

He’s in love.

He holds his hands back at least, keeping them against your sheets and gripping them so hard that he fears he’s ripping through them. Everything feels hot, you look hot, you sound hot, your tongue still manages to move against the base of his cock with what little room it does have, and god– your other hand, massaging his balls. 

“Wait, wait wait–” Jake groans, fucking his hips into your mouth once again until you pull off with a concerned look. 

“Were my teeth hurting you?” You ask, gasping a bit for air.

“No!” He heaves out with fluttering lashes, trying to regain sanity. “I was just getting really close.”

“Hm?” You sigh in disappointment, this time going all in at once and not letting yourself stop until he’s releasing into your mouth. 

You feel his shaking fingers brush your cheek when you do it, hollowing it out just to fit more, more, more into your mouth before lapping your tongue against his base again. 

His groaning turns into frantic moans, his hips jerking wildly, unable to escape the clenching muscles of your gagging throat, and he’s honestly in heaven once again. 

“Ah–wait–fuck.” He tries to protest, not wanting to finish so quickly, but there it goes. There he goes.

Never in his life has he felt an orgasm so satisfying. His eyes roll back and his fingers go numb when he releases, pumping himself deep into your throat and not stopping until he’s dizzy. The fact that you kept your mouth on him through it, the fact that he could still feel you gagging, swallowing, and moaning all at once through it– how?

“How–” he takes a breath, pulling you off of him so you can breathe. “How did you do that?”

You shrug with a confident smile, wiping your tears and crawling up to meet his face. 

“I don’t normally do that for guys.” You say with a rasp in your voice. “I certainly don’t just swallow for anyone.”

He feels special, and fucking spent but god does he want to keep going. His softening cock twitching in a relieving way, probably glad to have finally been touched by something other than his own hand. Part of him wonders if you’re done though, because by now you’ve both gotten off and usually that’s the end goal, right?

But he hasn’t lost his virginity yet, and when he looks at you hovering above him, he already knows you’re not done with him. 

“We need to let you rest until you can get hard again,” You say, kissing him more easily than before and letting him taste himself, letting you taste yourself mixed with him. “What’s something you wanna do to get you back into the game?”

He sighs out a laugh, fucking amazed that you’re his first. How lucky is that? He thinks hard, watching the way you lift your shirt off of yourself. God, he forgot tits existed for a solid part of this day and that’s a shame because instantly his sensitive cock throbs at the image of them coming into view. 

You watch him stare, trailing your hands down and lifting his shirt off of him as well. 

“I– I don’t even know at this point.” He admits with a stammer, ignoring the fact that his hair is definitely sticking up all over from you taking his shirt off of him.

“I’ll just love on you while you think, then.”

He gives a short nod, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside at the way your gentle hands caress his chest and abs before you start kissing against the muscles and soft skin there.

He relaxes his body, feeling your hands and lips on him. You were right when you said you’d love on him as he thinks about it. The hard part of it is actually thinking about what’s going to get him harder the fastest. You doing this could be enough, but your tits. And fuck, your pussy.

He lets out a whine, one that feels entirely out of character and it causes you to pause your gentle kiss against his nipple and pull back.

“Already?” 

He shakes his head, staring straight at your chest and then down to what's between your legs. 

“I want to, um…” He shifts his eyes away from you. “Can I eat you out again?”

That’s new. Twice in one session?

“Oh yeah? Did that get you going?”

You receive a small nod from him before his hands are reaching out for your tits and warming them up. 

You relax into the feeling of his fingers on your chest only for a moment before you pull back again, this time adjusting yourself onto the bed face down, ass up in front of him. Might as well try a bunch of different positions for him too, right?

“Whenever you’re ready.” You sigh, already grabbing a pillow to hug through this. 

You can feel the bed shift behind you, the weight of his body dipping right behind you before you feel his warm breath against your core. Only now do you realize that you already missed the way he ate you out the first time, you can barely contain yourself knowing he’s going to do it again. 

His hands snake between your legs before his lips get any closer, spreading them before pulling his hand back up and spreading your pussy open with his fingers on his own this time. 

“It’s really the prettiest.” He says in a clear and shaking voice, watching the way your hole pulses at the air that hits it. “And I've watched a lot of porn.”

You’d tell him to shut up, but you’re not gonna because it’s cute how forward he is with his thoughts. If anything, he’s treating you right now by doing this, so he can say whatever he fucking wants right now. 

“Yeah? You just gonna stare at it?” You try to urge him, and it works.

Because of course it works. 

You do your best to contain any rising orgasm, solely because you don’t want to spend yourself before you actually let him inside of you in full. But goddamn, he’s just as eager now as he was the first time…if not more. 

He thinks back to the things he did before, mimicking that and hitting all of the perfect spots without fail. Still, you hold back, pushing and pulling yourself away and toward him just to feel his tongue chase. He eventually holds you in place against him, big hands holding you firmly against his face with a bit of force. And now? He’s licking you deeper than you’ve ever been licked before. It’s a different kind of sensation, and the way he groans into it is entirely too much for you right now. 

You need more, you want more. You want all of him by now, so aroused by every touch, breath, and moan that it’s becoming unbearable to just be eaten out. The thought that he’s doing this to get himself hard again is flooring, and the feeling of his fingers replacing his tongue much like before is intense. 

After just that one time, he knows exactly how to make you cum this way and it’s dangerously attractive to realize that. He goes straight for it too, pulling back to watch his fingers slip into you up to the knuckle. 

He hums out a rumbled moan at the sound of your cunt squelching around his fingers. So wet. More wet than any of the girls in the porn he’s watched for years. You’re dripping around his fingers, and the smacking sound is so fucking arousing to him.

And yeah, he can’t reach your clit with his mouth this time so he thinks hard about how to fix this little dilemma and you’re floored even more by the fact that he solves problems without questioning. You feel his fingers leave you and land on your clit, and right then you feel his tongue again, just as deep, licking into you and all over you. 

The sound of your pussy amplifies when it’s against his tongue, and honestly, he could cum right now if he really wanted to. Already he’s hard again, but god feeling you, hearing you, seeing you like this for him? For some guy who has never once been able to give a girl his all like this? 

He’s so focused on you.

Which for you, is a bit of an issue because he’s really not going to let you hold it in, he’s going to have you fucking unravelling again and it’s too good. Thankfully, when you try to lift to look behind yourself, you take note of his other hand working himself. 

He’s hard again, and god knows how long he’s been doing that. 

You pull your body away from him quickly to let your rising orgasm subside, his protesting moan doing nothing but heating your body up more when you flip over and watch him. 

“You were really just going to get me off again and not try to fuck me yet?”

He looks down at himself and then back at you, smiling and running his hand through his hair. 

“I like doing it, I wanted to see if I could make you–”

“You absolutely could have but I’m going to be honest,” You start, interrupting him and pulling yourself up to crawl over him. “If you’re ready, I’d like to live up to my promise.”

His eyes are much sharper than they were before when you say those words. This is actually it. He would have been perfectly happy just eating you out, getting head himself, or whatever. Over and over again. Any and all of it is better than being in his room alone, but you’re really–

“Really?” He asks, knowing full well the answer.. 

“Lay back, get comfortable,” You instruct with deep breaths, scooting up the bed with him, keeping yourself planted on his legs despite the discomfort. “You still want me to ride you, yeah?”

He nods almost frantically, landing his hands on your tits without hesitation and groping them in a blatant show of how ready he’s managed to get himself for this. 

Not that you want to rush, but you’re so fucking turned on by this point, the only thing you want is to be filled by him. His is cock likely bigger than any you’ve taken before, and to be fair, you don’t even care if you’re the desperate one at this point. You’ve almost forgotten he’s a virgin.

“Wait,” He stops you when you slide over his cock, bare pussy coating his length in a languid grind. “Oh, fuck, wait- no,” He breathes in a sharp breath and grips your hips. ”Do that again.” 

You smile at his frantic thoughts pouring from his lips, sliding against him again, and again, up until he’s leaning forward and attaching his lips to one of your nipples and suckling against it hard. 

You groan as you grind, feeling the head of his now, fully hard, cock bumping against your previously stimulated clit. He groans with you, almost at the exact same time but continues to try and leave his mark on you. In love with finally getting your tits in his mouth, your pussy on his cock, and most of all, in love with the fact that you’re not laughing at him for any of it. You seem to melt into it much like he does and he can’t help but want to email the creator of that fucking app and personally thank them for this. 

You rub yourself against him until it’s even more unbearable than before. By now, you’ve completely soaked his length and he’s completely soaked your chest in saliva and tiny swollen bite marks. Not that you mind the biting, his little rumbled grow-like moans only made this all the more arousing.

“Ready?” You finally sigh out, deliberately grinding against him slowly now, with almost your entire weight behind the grinds. 

He groans out a “please” before immediately gripping your hips and stopping you. Pulling his head back so hard and so quickly– he kind of forgot to unlatch from your nipple and it sends a sharp pain throughout your body, one that only makes you want to ride him hard. Right now. 

“Hold on, there’s a condom in the pocket of my jeans–”

“Okay, and?” You laugh, sliding forward again and grinding your clit against him. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.” 

He looks at you, his sharp eyes falling back into the sparkling doe eyes as his mouth falls open at the very idea that he gets to hit is fucking raw for the first time? 

“Unless you’re lying, and you’re not really a virgin?”

He’s quick to silence your doubt. He’s 100% never had his cock inside of anything other than his own palm and– malfunction. He’s blank again, staring up at you and wincing at the feeling of you pleasuring yourself on top of him. 

“Please?” He manages to get out, gripping your hips so tightly by now that he’s sure it’s hurting you. 

You smile, humming at him when you lift from him, standing on your knees to grab his cock and position him in the right place. 

“You sure you want it too?” You ask, only now realizing that you’re genuinely about to take a man’s virginity, and it’s only fair that you give him one last time to decide if he wants you to take it from him. Despite how turned on you are, and regardless of how badly you want to fuck him, it’s not right to just do it without making him really think about it. 

“Fuck, yes.” His fingers tighten against you, his eyes squeeze shut, and his voice comes out as frantic and quite frankly, a bit annoyed. “Just do it already.” 

You can’t help but smile at him when you do. Lowering yourself slowly on him and feeling the stretch of it. His face is something that you don’t think you’ll ever forget. He appears to be lost in it, eyes rolling back, his chest heaving, his teeth showing through a half-smile as he moans out at the sensation. 

He can’t get over how warm it is inside of you, the constant clenching of your pussy dragging along his entire length. He can’t help it when he moans, he doesn’t care that his voice cracks, or that it sounds like a pathetic sob. 

By the time you bottom out and sit like that for a moment, you almost feel like he’s the one who needs to adjust. Of course, you’re needing this moment to adjust too but god– just watching him makes you that much more wet and it’s insane how into him you are right now. As if you haven’t been since you started talking to him.

“Feels good?” You ask, involuntary clenching around his size, letting out a small sigh yourself at the feeling of his leaking cock inside of you. 

He hums at you and then takes in a deep breath before fully opening his eyes again and looking at you. Technically, he’s no longer a virgin now. It’s fucking happening, and you’re hot? So fucking hot? You feel so good? You smell so good. You sound so fucking good. 

Everything is overwhelmingly good, all he can do now is press his hips up and instantly moan out at the new feeling. 

You take that as an invitation to absolutely obliterate him, much like you knew you would. So, you do. Lifting yourself up and sliding him almost entirely out of you before sinking down again. 

His hands shoot to your waist, then he lifts slightly to grab your ass from behind you, and then he flops himself back– seemingly unable to know what the fuck to do with himself at this feeling. 

You opt to grab his hands, intertwining your fingers with his and holding them above his head, all so you can lay chest to chest with him, lips right at his neck. You start kissing, riding him so smoothly and doing nothing but listening to his little sounds that he tries to keep inside. 

“You’re really cute, you know that?” You whisper against his ear, kissing there too before pulling back to look at his face.

That half-smile never leaves his face, and his fingers squeeze against yours so tightly that you actually start to worry that he may break them. Thankfully, he begins to relax after a few minutes. Adjusting to the overwhelming pleasure and now losing himself to the arousal rather than fighting it. 

You nearly squeak when you feel him release your hands and grab your face, pulling you up to him as he kisses you mindlessly. Breathlessly, moaning into your mouth all while moving his own hips now. You can feel him jerk his hips, imagining how he fucked his hand through facetime. This is better than that.

You prop to stand up on your knees, offering him the space to fuck you as hard as he’d like, and god. It’s hard. It’s deep, and it’s so clumsy. No rhythm, no thought behind it at all, you can fucking tell he’s purely running on adrenaline as he plunges into you. 

He’s actually going so hard, that your moans sound more pained than pleasurable, but that’s not the case at all. You actually can’t stop moaning, it’s just the fact that each time he slams into you, your throat lets out a broken sound. 

For a moment, you think you can actually hear him unintentionally growl against your slack lips as he does it. Already he’s lasted longer than you thought he would, especially without a condom, and you’re so fucking impressed by it. 

You slide your hand between your bodies, easily rubbing your own clit and drying out your throat even more with the consistent loud moans of how good he’s doing. After a few moments though, his hips stutter and you take that as a sign that you should take over again.

“I don’t know how the fuck you’re doing this to me,” You laugh out of pity for yourself, “I really thought I could last longer than this.”

He barely hears you through his ringing ears and rapid heartbeat, but he chuckles at the compliment. Feeling like he must be doing something right to have a woman say that to him. There’s one issue. He’s about two thrusts from cumming again and he will be damned to ruin this for you. 

You take over, riding him harshly and rubbing your clit even harder. He takes a moment to try and distract himself from how good your pussy feels clenching him and takes it upon himself to bite down hard against his tongue. Something to hurt enough to keep his orgasm from bubbling over, but also not something so awful that he’d lose his arousal entirely. 

You continue, pushing yourself back up from him and watching the way he tries to focus on anything but what’s happening. You ride deliberately to get him off though, knowing that the second he does, you’ll let yourself go too. He doesn’t seem to be picking up the hints. 

“Are you close?” You ask, out of breath and riding him so consistently that it’s becoming more and more difficult to hold your own orgasm. “Let it go, do it with me–”

Instantly, you hear him whimper out a moan as he releases the bite on his tongue. Shooting himself forward and hugging you so tightly that the pressure of your fingers against your clit is entirely unbearable. 

“Oh, god. I’m–” You start, moaning against his hair as he hugs against you.

He’s so fucking relieved, already releasing into you as you say those words. All he can do is breathe through it, feeling your pussy pulse around him as he continues to empty himself into you. 

It’s entirely too intense, his ears popping and heart threatening to send him to a hospital. Never did he think having sex was this intense. 

Little does he know… it’s not. But even you, for some reason, find yourself wondering why the fuck that was so good. 

By the time you pull yourself off of him, both of you wincing and trying to ignore the mixture of cum running down your legs, all you can do is look at him with curiosity. 

He can barely open his eyes to look back at you, but he tries, he really does. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He’s not going home tonight. Of course he’s not. Like, how fucking rude would it be to take his virginity and send him on his way? Absolutely the fuck not.

In fact, you made him some food, wobbling on spent legs throughout the kitchen as he lays on his death bed in your room. (He’s being dramatic.)

All he can do is listen to the sounds of you in the other room and think hard about how he just felt. Physically, it was a lot. Surely if sex is like that all the time, he’d rather not do it as often as Heeseung does. Honestly, his sanity would be at stake. 

But like, you’re kind of amazing. Given, the two of you barely know each other past lame texts and bullying each other. Physically, you know him more than any other woman and that’s a block he didn’t think would be an issue until it became one.

You made him cum twice. And he thinks you did too, unless you’re lying just to make him feel better. There’s no way you didn’t feel the intensity of that though. There’s no way your wobbling legs were lying to him when you got up and told him you wanted to have a snack before bed.

There’s no way you would let him sleep over if you didn’t feel the same way he does right now.

And by the time you’re back, handing him a plate of food, he can’t help but believe that nothing will ever taste as good as you.

The thing is, that’s one of the main reasons you did this. To be praised, to have a man think you’d be the best he will ever have until he eventually meets someone else and they do better than you did. Now though, you feel weird. 

This is a one night stand. A charity-fuck, as it still stands at least. 

“So,” You start, taking a bite of your food still as naked as can be regardless of how stupid it must look to be eating in a cum-soaked bed like this. “I guess you should change your bio in the app now.”

He looks at you, and then at his food.

“Yeah, I guess I should…” 

“I’ll help you fix your age on it. Now that you know what you’re doing with a woman and all.”

It’s silent for a minute.

“Is it too forward if I say that I’d rather just delete the app and keep calling you?”

Thank fuck Jake is forward and embarrassing with it. You’re not ready to give up the single life but on the other hand, after that, you’re not exactly ready to share him with other women just yet either. If he wants to attach himself for a while, you’re going to let him. Purely because, like, look at him. Everything is endearing, and when he’s not being adorable he’s just being fucking hot.

Maybe you will be ready to give up the single life if it’s with Jake. 

You nod with a smile, wondering if he expects you to delete the app too. Because you’re not so sure about that, but also you think you probably would if he asks with those stupid doe eyes. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t even ask. He just starts eating the food with a content look on his face. Sweat having dried up but left his hair a mess, his skin is glowing– you think…oh no. Why are you looking at him like this?

“Hey, I should probably call Jay and tell him not to come home until late tomorrow or something.”

Jake nods, lifting his eyes to you and watching you take your phone out. 

“I should call my friend too, he told me to let him know when I get my cherry popped.”

You snort at him with a laugh right as Jay answers the phone, and honestly, you’d rather listen to Jake’s friend than Jay whining about having to spend even more time with his overbearing parents. 

“Hey Jay, don’t come home 'til I call you tomorrow, bye.” You say quickly before hanging up. 

Instantly you’re setting your plate on your table and launching yourself at Jake and his phone. 

“Put him on speaker.”

Jake does just that, laughing at Heeseung’s reaction when he hears you speak rather than his best friend over the line. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[lowkeyerror]

Ours Together pt 3

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Word Count: 8k

Notes: Agatha All Along Spoilers, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, intimacy bordering on smut but no actual smut, happy ending, everyone survives

Summary: Things get rocky between the coven as they work to get through the rest of trials and off of the road. It begins to feel like Agatha, Rio, and their fallen angel versus the rest of the witches.

An: Took me awhile to write this one, but it is longer than the other parts. This is the final chapter of Ours Together, so I hope you guys enjoyed. Feel free to like, reply, reblog, and slide into my inbox with any questions about this fic. Thank you for reaading 🫶.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist

You were trying to find a way to be ok with leaving Agatha behind. The argument that the road wasn’t real, wasn’t working anymore. Not when you could remember the feeling of your wings being severed.

“Looks like the next trial is up ahead.”

A cabin. It’s disarming enough, but you knew better. A glamorous home, and the gates of heaven were both omens on this trail.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mumble entering the wooden structure.

You were uninterested in what was to transpire until you came to the understanding that this was Agatha’s trial. That information made you focus more on quickly executing the task.

Learning that you had to Ouija was disappointing. Due to your previous affiliation you were not allowed to touch the boards. If an angel were too touch a Ouija board there was a chance that their soul would get lost with the others.

So you watched on edge as the others did the board. You couldn’t help, but laugh a little when Agatha pretended to be possessed. You even laughed a bit when board said that Death was here with you. However your laughter completely stopped when it kept spelling out punish Agatha.

When she let go of the board you knew it was going to be all bad. The witches in the coven turned on her pretty quickly.

“It’s clear what we have to do, punish Agatha.”

“Try again because you’re not touching her,” you kept your voice low and calm.

You could feel their eyes on you.

“Y/n it’s what the trial wants. You should know-”

You stop them there, “You’re right, I do know because I had to have my wings cut off. What I learned is what happens in these trials is painfully real. So I dare you to touch her.”

Rio stands by your side, arm loosely hanging over your shoulder, “I’m on her side.”

“That’s not fair. Agatha has literal Death and The Fallen Angel protecting her, what are we supposed to do?” Jen throws her hands up in exasperation.

It starts a bickering amongst everyone. They all send looks your way. It's not something you mind anymore. You had gotten used to hostile starts a long while ago.

“What if it's the only way?” Agatha says just so the two of you can hear.

“We will find another way,” Rio reassures the woman.

That's when the lights go dark. You stay close to Rio, forming an outward facing circle with the rest. Agatha had vanished from her spot.

“Agatha,” you call her name tentatively.

Its not until Teen flashes his light at the ceiling that you see a clearly possessed Agatha drop down. Everyone screams at her appearance.

“What the fuck?” Slips out of your mouth as you watch your lover crawl and swing her arms around.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” Rio calls out tentatively.

“Oh my god.”

Agatha has Jen in her hold before anyone can do anything about it. You all try to get her to loosen her grip, but nothing works until Lilia hits the lights. Once she does you and Rio become frantic as Agatha disappears again.

“Agatha! Where is she, alright? Where is she!” Rio’s frustration grows.

You take her hand in yours, silently. Your eyes wandering the room because you’re still trying to find Agatha as well.

“What’s that?” Teen says as a almost translucent cloud forms in front of the stairs.

Your frown deepens, “A ghost.”

“I hate ghosts,” Rio grumbles as the image of a woman who is familiar to the both of you materializes.

Lilia asks the ghosts who she is. Evanora, answers and you can’t hide your look of irritation.

When Agatha speaks up from her spot on the stairs you feel relief wash over you. She’s ok, you breathe a little easier. Simultaneously, your heart breaks as you watch her pretend to be nonchalant about her mother possessing her.

“You must finish the road without Agatha, leave her with me.”

“No, no way!” Rio’s eyes burn into the ghost.

“Weren’t you guys fighting at some point before all this?”

You glare stays on Evanora, “Yeah, well, her mother can’t have her.”

The ghost floats towards Rio, who takes a step back. You block Evanora’s path, your eyes taking on that dangerous black color.

“Mom? Why do you hate me still?” Agatha comes down the stairs to question her mother with a vulnerability that you didn’t think anyone else would ever see.

“You were born evil. I ought to have killed you the moment you left my body.”

When you see a tear slide down Agatha’s face, you lose it. While the rest of the coven is taken aback by Evanora’s harsh words, you weigh your options.

“We have to go,” Jen says, turning to leave Agatha behind.

Agatha pleas are genuine as they fall from her lips, “Please take me with you. Don’t go. Don’t leave me with her I can be good. Please!”

“NO ONE IS LEAVING!” Your voice shakes the walls as you speak.

Jen tries to take a step forward, but she can’t in fact no one in the room can move freely except for you, Rio, and Agatha.

Evanora sees your display of power and tries to hide herself in Agatha’s body.

“Oh no you don’t, you raggedy bitch.”

You’re quick to lay your wrists against each other and open your palms outward. The magic that emits is black just like your wings. The power hits the ghost. She lets out a cry of agony, looking wildly around as her soul is being melted away by your magic.

“Holy shit,” Teen says as they all watch it unfold.

“You’re a fool. An angel ripped from heaven because of my daughter’s sinister impact, yet you protect her. She doesn't love you, she's incapable. She’s evil reincarnated, she will never-” Evanora’s ramble is quick and panicked as she begins to fade from existence.

You let up on your attack just to get closer to her. You squat down to her level, “Being in love with Agatha is one of the best things that could've ever happened to me. I will never regret it. She has always been good to me, even when I haven’t deserved it. For what you’ve done to her, I will erase you from every plane of existence because you, Evanora Harkness deserve a fate worse than eternal damnation.”

Your wings come out without your permission, making the moment look like something from a movie. With a single hand you begin unleashing your power on the ghost again. Your eyes, black and unblinking, your wings spread wide, your body firm in it’s place as you watch the ghost squirm underneath you.

Her words are incoherent as the screams take over. Her eyes begging for any other fate than this. You black magic drowning her out, until nothing is left. The screams are gone, her soul is gone. Not resting, not in a better place, or a worse place, just gone.

The trial had ended and the exit makes itself present yet, everyone is still frozen in place. Not by your voice, but by what they had just witnessed. Slowly you stand from your spot. Though you want to comfort Agatha, you turn your attention to the coven.

“If you ever think about leaving Agatha behind, I will kill you. I don’t care how old you are, I don’t care about what you want from the road, I do not give a single fuck about your feelings. I honestly hoped you’d shoot your magic at Agatha and just fucking die, but no we have to be on this stupid fucking road,” your anger rises with each word you speak.

“Y/n,” Agatha is gentle as she calls your name.

You shake your head, “Let’s just go.”

You march out of the exit with Agatha and Rio following behind you, and the rest following behind them.

“Sweetheart, I did say we'd go after one more trial,” Rio is careful as she speaks with you, back on the road.

“I’m not leaving her with them. If you have to go then go,” you can feel your jaw clench.

“Hey, I’m not the one who was going to abandon our girl, don't snap at me,” Rio says.

You take a deep breath, “Sorry, that just really pissed me off.”

“I know, I don’t think I remember the last time you destroyed a soul like that,” you can see the worry in her eyes as she looks at you.

“She deserved it. That woman was a piece of shit. Nothing she said was true,” you look at Agatha, who had been uncharacteristically quiet.

“Agatha,” Rio calls her name but she doesn’t answer. “Agatha,” she tries again more firm this time still nothing.

Its not until Death stands directly in front of the woman, her hands on the others shoulder, that Agatha reacts to her.

“I think we should camp for the night,” Rio says softly, and Agatha nods.

You turn to face the coven. They stop as soon as you turn, “Set up camp.”

“We always set it up, while you the go rendezvous for however long you want,” Teen talks back to you.

“Kid, don’t start with me,” your tone has a warning edge to it.

“No, I think I will. You’re not even a witch, why should we listen to you about the witches’ road?”

You roll your eyes, “You don’t know half as much as I do about the witches’ road.”

He stands his ground, “I’ve studied the ballad, I have notes. I am a witch.”

“ I’ve studied the ballad. I have notes. Blah blah blah,” you mock him.

Your words stir something inside the boy. Something that has the magic simmering at the edge of his fingers.

“I bet it was a harsh reality to deal with, once you realized you’d never go back to heaven. Considering that's probably where Nicholas went.”

It happens too quickly for anyone to stop you. You shove the teenager against a tree with an unimaginable amount of force. The tree cracks under the impact. You have two fistfuls of his shirt, tightly wound in your grip.

Your breathing is erratic and your eyes are once again black. The witches around you are screaming and pleading, but you aren’t focused on them.

“You don't get to speak about him like you know him. No one here knows him. You don't know what happened, so stop hypothesizing about my son’s death. It will get you killed, boy.”

“Y/n, let him go,” Agatha’s voice breaks through all the others.

You don’t get the chance to release the boy, as you feel yourself being repelled away from him. The magic is strong enough to push you off, but you don't fall down.

His hands are glowing with blue sparks and you see a crown forming around his head.

“Look who’s grown,” you don't back down from him.

“More than you can say for you son.”

You growl, “DOWN.”

The road seems to shift with your voice. The teen hits his knees. His magic vanishes from his hands. You don’t let him get the chance to speak before you blast him with your power.

He screams, but you don’t care. You stalk closer to him. You can feel hands on you trying to pull you back from him. Yet your vision is tunneled in on him. You strike him with your magic once more and he doubles over.

“Y/n look at me baby.”

Rio stands in your way, blocking you from the teen. You ignore her words but reach for her waist. You grab her dagger and hold it against the boy’s neck.

“You know what losing my son taught me, kid? Sometimes, boys just die,” a single tear rolls down your cheek as you smile sadistically at him.

“Can’t you do something to stop her?” Jen says.

“She’ll kill him,” Alice follows.

“Working on it,” Rio says, gears turning in her head, hoping to find a solution.

“It’s not his time,” Lilia murmurs.

You add pressure to the blade, watching him try his best not to move.

“Please, please I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I can be-"

“Good?” You cut him off.

His words, stuck in his throat, as he realized the similarities between himself and Agatha.

“It won’t bring him back,” you hear Agatha’s voice in your ear.

Her hand is firm on your forearm, keeping you from digging into the teen’s neck.

“Did you hear what he said about Nicky? This little shit deserves it.”

“Love, please,” Agatha tries to reason with you. “He wouldn’t want you to do this.”

You let out an animalistic grunt before pulling the dagger away from the teen’s neck and shoving it into the ground. You stand abruptly and walk away from the group, trying to cool off.

“Word to the wise Billy, do not go pissing off people more powerful than you,” Agatha’s voice is sarcastic, but her gaze travels the boys face trying to find injury.

“You knew? Did you-”

“Yes I knew, you're as predictable as your mother and no I didn't put the sigil on you.”

Lilia speaks up, “I did, for your protection.”

“And the plot thickens,” Rio teases.

“Your familiar almost killed him,” Alice points out.

Rio’s dagger is back in her hand. She twirls it around a bit, “Are we surprised? Billy here, does not know when he should shut the fuck up. Talking about a dead boy, he should be ashamed of himself. Nicky isn't some tool you can use to get a response.”

Billy looks to Agatha for back up, but instead finds her cold stare.

“I know Y/n would've regretted killing you, even if it doesn’t seem like it now. That was more for her than you. I don't ever want to hear his name come out of your mouth again. Understand?”

He nods, his gaze not meeting Agatha’s eyes, “I understand.”

“Great, well go ahead and set up camp, while we go deal with Y/n. Unless anyone has an issue with our rendezvous,” Agatha looks around for objections, she gets none.

Rio and Agatha take off in the direction you were headed. They walk side by side, looking for any sign of you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that before” Agatha looks to Rio.

The Green Witch mirror her look of worry, “Me either.”

They find you sitting by the edge of a creek. Your knees your chest as you stare past the water. The anger no longer seeping off of you like before. They sit on either side of you, slightly disappointed when you curl further into yourself.

“Sorry,” is the only word to leave your lips.

Agatha shakes her head, “It’s my fault.”

You and Rio try to protest, but Agatha simply raises a hand. “I let them believe whatever lies have been spun about my relationship with Nicholas. I believed them to be all less hurtful than the truth. It was ok when it was just me they antagonized, but if I knew you would've been their target, I would've come clean.”

“It’s none of their business. The truth would do no good for them. They have no empathy,” you mumble.

“How can you be so sure?” Rio is cautious when she reaches out towards you.

You take her hand and hold it up to your cheek, seeking comfort. Agatha sees this and moves so her shoulder is against yours, her arm tucks it self securely around your waist. Rio’s head falls onto your shoulder. You feel yourself un-tense at the contact.

“They heard my story, they saw our scars, they heard what Evanora said about Agatha, and yet, they still want to pick trivial fights,” your anger was replaced by exhaustion.

“He’s young,” Agatha tries to defend.

“It’s not just Billy. They wanted to leave you behind Aggie. What if Rio and I weren’t there, then what? They would’ve let her have you.”

You blink as the tears being to well in your eyes.

“I can't blame them, sweetheart. I would've done the same if it were any of their trials,” Agatha confesses.

Another sigh escapes you, “I’m assuming Billy made the road as well, while we’re on the topic of frustrating things?”

Agatha nods a few times, “I’m pretty sure. His powers they’re like his mothers, very tied up in his emotions.”

“I was going to kill him,” exasperation on your tongue.

Rio kisses your collarbone, “You didn’t, we wouldn't have let you.”

“He’s right, I’ve thought about it a lot you know? Nicky is somewhere up there like I was. I could’ve been there for him,” you look up to the sky as you speak.

“He’s in safest place he could be,” Agatha bows her head slightly.

“Who knew this made up road would be so stressful?” Rio concedes defeated by the things that have happened.

“At least it brought us back together. I don't think I could’ve spent another century, burning from the inside,” You attempt to joke.

“I think I know something that could relieve some of the stress,” Agatha says suggestively.

She stands, two pairs of eyes watching her intently as she begins to peel off her clothes.

“W- what are you doing?” You stutter, but don't look away from her.

She sits her clothes on a nearby rock, and struts into the creek.

“I’m taking a dip, you two are welcome to join me.”

Your jaw opens slightly at her proposal, “What if they see us?”

Rio stands as well, following Agatha’s suit, “I doubt that they would dare say anything after such a powerful display from our sweet angel.”

“Come on baby, loosen up a bit,” Agatha speaks from her spot in the water.

Rio slides up next to the witch, whispering something in her ear, causing them both to giggle.

“You know I’m supposed to be sulking,” you say getting to your feet, pulling off your clothes.

“Sulking, soaking, same difference,” Rio argues.

The water is pleasantly warm as you sink into it. The three of you bare, in the faux night of the road. It reminds you of the early parts of your relationship. Both women always up for dip in whatever body of water they came across. Nights spent in bodies of water, bathed by the soft light of the moon. Dark purple marks from the eager lips of your lovers.

The memories brought a slight color to your cheeks.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?”

Agatha and Rio circle you, in somewhat of a predatory fashion.

“I bet she’s thinking about all the things we used to do in the water. Am I right doll?”

“Perhaps,” you say coyly. “But if you think after centuries, I’m going to give myself to you on the witches’ road, I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“Fair, but a couple of kisses wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Rio wraps her arms around you from behind.

She trails a few kisses up the side of your neck.

“I suppose not,” you crane your neck to give her access.

“I think love bites are fair game,” Agatha’s hands find your waist. Her mouth latching on to the opposite side of your neck. She sucks with delicate force, playfully biting, before soothing the space with her tongue.

“Mhm,” you hum, the pleasure getting to you.

Your hands rest on Agatha’s stomach slowly climbing up to her breasts. You can’t help but play with them in your hands. You lick your lips recalling, how they felt in your mouth. Her moans when you would suck and tease her nipples.

“I thought we weren’t doing this here,” Agatha said breathlessly, as you play with one of her nipples between your fingers.

“We’re not,” you say, with a warmth spreading across your body.

“Then-”

You cut her off with a sensual kiss. She moans in surprise. She slips her tongue into your mouth and you suck on it teasingly. The woman laughs at your antics, which breaks the kiss.

It isn’t a moment after that you feel a hand wrap around your neck. You let Rio pull you into a hungry kiss, turning you body fully towards her. She’s trying to be dominant, but when your teeth tug on her lower lip, she lets out a whimper.

She ends up kissing down your body. Her lips stop right above your scar. She makes eye contact with you as her tongue meticulously traces over it.

It doesn’t go away, you all knew it wouldn't because it had already healed on it’s own. Yet she looks up at you with a pout that makes your knees weak.

“It was worth a shot,” she speaks innocently.

You want nothing more than to grab a fistful of her hair and yank her up to kiss your lips.

“That was hot,” Agatha says, watching with dark eyes.

“We have to stop,” the disappointment in your tone makes the other women chuckle.

“Awe, does baby want to cross her own boundaries?”

You separate from them and make your way back to land. An irritated groan leaving your lips, “We’re not fucking on the road.”

“Don’t be too mad about it hon, this was supposed to be relaxing,” Agatha teases following you.

Rio is the last out of the water, “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait.”

Going back to the makeshift camp, puts a sour flavor in your mouth, but it’s better than the burning rage you had felt when you left. Everyone is asleep when you return except for Billy.

“I wanted to apologize, for what I said. It wasn’t fair to blow up at you like that,” his remorse was real, you could tell.

“It’s fine, kid. I should be apologizing to you, hundreds of years old and I still can’t keep my temper in check. Let’s just squash it,” you start to make yourself comfortable.

“Did you mean what you said, about letting Agatha kill us?”

You suck in a breath unwilling to lie, “Yeah, I did. It might be hard for you to understand, but I’ve spent centuries away from Agatha and Rio. Having them back is everything to me, and the road strives to take them from me. I would do anything to get us off of the road and nothing will change that.”

“I- I understand. My brother, I would do anything to see him again. Whatever it takes.”

Agatha smiles, “Spoken like a true witch.”

“Word to the wise kid, power plays are never as personal as they seem. In this life, things are taken from you if you hesitate for even a moment. Don’t be afraid of your power and never hesitate.”

“Pretty sound advice for someone who isn’t a witch isn’t it?” Rio teases Billy.

He laughs awkwardly and nods.

“Get some rest, we have a road to conquer,” Agatha’s tone was parental.

Billy does as instructed, feeling better after the talk.

Your stare lingers on him a bit longer. A hand rests on your shoulder, “He’s fine.”

You nod to yourself, “Yeah.”

It’s easier falling asleep than it should've been. Your body is completely exhausted from using your powers so frequently. Time is strange on the road, you couldn't really tell how much time had passed due to the darkness.

“We gotta go now!”

You are startled awake by a panicked voice. You’re quick to get to your feet.

“Where’s the fire?”

You’re damn near being pulled along the road, as you hear steps running all around you.

“The seven are here.”

That sentence seems to shake the sleep from your body. Your eyes open wide as you begin to pick up your pace.

“Then why are we moving so slowly?”

“I’m running as fast as I can,” Lilia speaks, out of breath.

“We could use analog magic to fly?” Billy suggests it and the witches groan as a collective.

“I don’t hear anyone else coming up with ideas,” you say in his defense.

“Blast them with your angel powers,” Jen exclaims.

“Not an angel and I'm not doing a 7 on 1 attack,” you say.

One of the seven ends up catching up to you and like Jen suggested you blast them with your power. She gives you an ‘I told you so' look and you mock her.

“Brooms now,” Agatha says breaking off a branch from a tree.

Once everyone has a working broom you expand your wings and shoot up into the air.

“I thought we were any to have the coolest moment ever, yet here she goes upstaging us,” Rio smirks as she takes off, Agatha isn’t far behind her.

You don't remember the last time you flew prior to your time on the road. This is different than your trial. The cool air surrounds you as your wings flap with a familiarity. You feel free for the first time in a long time. A genuine smile takes a place on your face as you fly.

Agatha and Rio can't take their eyes off of you. It has been too long since they've seen you move freely in the sky. To them, it looks like you are home. Your smile makes them do the same, sharing a look of love between the pair. The shared adoration for you, fills their hearts. A soft fondness in their eyes as they fly side by side. Their love for each other unspoken, but heavy.

The road decides to break up the moment, forcing everyone back on to the path. You end up landing gracefully while most of the others take a rough landing.

It's no surprise that you land in front of another trial. Just like with your trial, everyone rushes in to avoid any of the wandering seven. Once inside it feels like a distasteful costume party. The witches dressed as their famous caricatures, while you have tiny fake black wings on your back with fake horns to accompany it. The only person who looks more ridiculous in your opinion is Rio.

“Why the fuck am I Skeletor?”

You giggle, but place your hands on her fake blue abs, “I think it’s all in good fun.”

Your laughter stops in its tracks when you get a glimpse of the ceiling. Knives dangle overhead threaten to fall. You see the tarot spread and immediately think of Lilia.

“Well looks like you’re up Lilia,” Alice places a hand on the older woman’s shoulder.

“Who am I reading for?”

The others chime with thoughts and theories, but for you the answer is quite clear.

“Your trial, your reading,” you say cutting through all of the chatter.

“Smart girl,” Lilia says beginning her own reading.

When the death card comes up, you can see attention shift to Rio.

She throws her hands up, “All roads lead to me, we already know that.”

The exit opens, but before anyone can step through it the seven are rapidly approaching.

“I’m tired of running,” Lilia stands her ground.

You shake your head, “You’ve got to get out of here, its not your time yet.”

“But-”

“But nothing, you’re a damn good witch, but right now you have to go,” you send her towards the door.

“What’re you doing?” Agatha asks with panic in her voice.

You don’t respond to her, “Billy, if you want to show off that power, now is the time."

Your powers manifested in your hands as you begin to shoot it at members of the seven.

“I’ll try,” magic sparks like electricity at the tips of his fingers.

“Y/n, we have to-”

You shook your head, “Get them out of here Rio. The kid and I got it, just have Alice on standby.”

Rio doesn’t reply, instead she shoves you towards the exit. She uses one hand to push you out of Lilia’s trial and with other she throws out the teen.

She closes the door behind the teen. You begin to bang on the door. You try hitting it with your power but it doesn’t budge. Your fist hits the door a few times, before Agatha pulls you back from the door.

“Why would she do that? She can’t- Agatha, we have to help her. We have too,” you were on the brink of being a mess.

Agatha grabs your face in her hands, trying to get you to focus on her. She gives you a tiny smile, “Sweetheart, they are locked in with her not the other way around. She’s la muerte.”

On cue, you hear the sound of screams coming from the room you were just in. You listen hard and pick up the unforgettable sound of a sword piercing flesh.

“Should we…” Billy says, ready for a fight.

“Easy there tiger, sounds like she has it under control,” Alice keeps the boy back with an exaggerated grab.

Rio doesn’t walk, but skips out of the space where Lilia’s trial was held. Her dagger in hand, glistening with blood. The gleeful nature of her return nearly makes you forget that you were in danger

“ The seven are now the zero,” she says spinning the knife in her hands.

“You could’ve done that the whole time?” Jen questions Rio.

Rio shrugs, “I don’t like getting my hands dirty, too much paperwork if I’m the one that does the killing.”

Instead of stopping to rest like the other trials, you decide to continue on. There’s only one member of the coven to test, before you could finally leave this hell hole.

You can basically see the nerves bouncing off of the kid. If this is the end, then whatever is next is for him.

“Well, looks like your last up kid,” you place your hand on his shoulder.

“I’m ready for whatever it is,” he steels his jaw.

“Just remember, take what you want. Don’t hesitate,” you lose pace with him to fall back with Rio and Agatha.

“Not too long ago you were trying to kill him, and now you’re giving him advice. Look how far you’ve come,” Rio teases you.

You roll your eyes, “I’m just trying to get out of here.”

“No soft spot for him?” Agatha pushes farther.

A smile tugs at the ends of your lips but you hide it well, “Nope. ”

“Guys I think we have a problem,” Alice’s voice calls for your attention.

A row of shoes in front of everyone seems to make silence fall across the group.

“Our shoes,” you hear the anger simmering beneath Agatha’s tone.

“We’re back where we started,” Alice says in disbelief.

“The witches’ road is a circle,” Billy adds on.

“And this is the finish line?” Jen is just as shocked as Alice.

You see Agatha try to use her powers and as nothing happens her face begins to contort into a scowl, “That’s it?”

She glares at Billy before yelling again, “That’s it!”

“Well, maybe we passed the trial?” Lilia tries to reason with the group.

“Then how exactly do we get off?” Agatha’s anger finally tips over.

“Well maybe we-”

“IF YOU DON’T KNOW KEEP QUIET!” She tries to stalk towards the boy, but you’re quick to pull her back into you.

You look to Rio, who carefully watches the interaction in front of her. It’s strange, because you three are the only ones who know that the road has been manifested by Billy. Therefore it is technically his domain, meaning he designed it like this.

“We need to keep going,” Agatha says with her voice low.

The rest of the group quickly breaks into chaos shouting their refusal.

“FINE! STAY HERE!” Agatha growls at the group.

Billy keeps staring at the shoes.

Rio speaks up, “Go ahead, put them on.”

“What do the shoes have to do with anything? “ Alice questions.

“Well you took them off for respect for the road right? Has the road been respectful too you?” Rio points out.

“Screw the road,” Billy says before slipping his shoes on.

No one gets a chance to say anything else. Instantaneously you find yourself confined in a dark space. You panic, feeling all around you until you find a zipper. Once you're free from the bag, you notice that you're in an all white room.

Billy, Agatha, and Jen all appear in the same situation you are in. You leave the body bag and look around.

“Where are we?” Billy asks.

“My basement give or take,” Agatha answers him.

“Where are the others?” Jen asks.

“Not too far,” you answer her.

She squints, “How can you be sure?”

“Cause my insides aren’t boiling from being away from Rio.”

“But Agatha’s right here?”

You sigh, “It’s an and/or type of thing. Meaning if one of them is too far it burns, significantly less than if they were both far, but still burns nonetheless.”

“Glad to know they’re close, but that doesn’t make us any less trapped,” Billy points out that the door is sealed.

“These are grow lights, are we supposed to grow something here?”

“There’s no water or soil,” you point out.

Agatha huffs in irritation, “Sure seems like another stupid fucking trial.”

She digs around in the body bag and gasps lightly, “We do have our personal effects.”

She pulls out her locket, causing the others to dig in their bags. You didn’t come on the road with anything so you weren’t surprised to find your bag empty.

You see Agatha struggling to put on the necklace and walk over to her. You take it from her hands and gently sweep her hair out of the way. Knowing what’s inside the locket, keeps your hands steady as you hook the chain.

You see her smile, relief plastering over her features, “That’s better.”

You go to step away, but she grabs your wrist, keeping you close by.

Billy isn’t so lucky with his notebook, “It’s worthless.”

The body bags disappear once he tosses the book in there.

“Well, I guess the road agrees,” you say sarcastically.

It’s then that the grow lights flicker.

“And now we have our countdown,” Agatha points out.

Jen leans against the wall watching the countdown. Agatha can’t help, but antagonize the woman as their time ticks away.

“I’ll be damned if I let us all die here, after making it this far,” Jen peels herself off the wall to stand in the center of the room.

“You don’t have any magic,” you tell her without any animosity.

“Well she saved me, maybe she doesn’t need it,” Billy points out.

It’s at this point where Jen mentions Boston. You can’t help it as your mouth falls open and you look at Agatha. Her eyes also opening wide, while staring at Jen.

“You need to do the unbinding ritual,” you tell them.

“Doesn’t she need the witch that bound her to do that?” Billy says not connecting the dots.

“Agatha? Are you the one who bound me?” Jen says, rightful frustration in her tone.

She shrugs, “I don’t know.”

You narrow your eyes at her, crossing your arms over your chest, “Now is not the time.”

“You nonstop sociopath!”

“You’re the one who bound her?” Billy can’t believe it.

“How did you even know I was in Boston?” Agatha questions you.

“Old habits die hard, you always went to sell your services in Boston when times got rough, but enough deflecting, do the ritual.”

“You kept me like this for 100 years?” Jen yells.

Agatha tries to defend herself, “ I didn’t know it was you. It was the 1920’s I did the odd spell for bank notes. The patriarchy really shelled out to shush a lady. It was bind or burn!”

“100 years!”

As much as you wanted to push to get the ritual over with, you knew Jen was justified in her anger. That was time that she’d lost forever. You knew better than anyone what it felt like to walk around for years on end as a shell of your former self.

“This is so awkward.”

Jen pulls Agatha into her and starts the ritual. Once it’s over and her magic is running through her she sobs. The reunion of her and her powers means her journey is over. She vanishes from the road.

“Where did she go?”

“The road gave her what she was missing. And now she’s gone,” Agatha deadpans.

You can sense the shift in her attitude immediately. It feels as though she and the teen are facing off against each other.

“This can end right now. I want power, you have power, juice me up.”

“So you get what you're missing and I’m left here to rot?”

You scoff at him, “She could’ve killed you at any point by now. When you were bleeding out of your side or when my knife was at your neck kid, use your head.”

“No one was talking to you, do you even want anything from the road ? Shouldn’t you have disappeared by now too?” Billy tries to pick a fight with you.

“You are the only thing standing in the way of what I want,” you tell him seriously.

“So what it’s 2 against 1 now? I’m not scared of either of you,” he gets in Agatha face, but keeps his glare on you.

The gesture pisses you off and you march over to them. Agatha puts her hand out, motioning for you to stay back. You reluctantly follow her gesture

“What a good little familiar,” Billy directs at you.

Before you can do anything Agatha interrupts, “Sit.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to find your brother."

His whole energy changes, “What?”

She sits down, “That’s what you want right? Tommy isn’t waiting out there. Not in a body anyway. Why do you think Rio came here to begin with? She knows you could do it for him.”

“Do what?”

The teen was so dense that you couldn’t help your outburst, “Give him another life. Another spin around the dance floor.”

His eyes snap to yours, “You think I can bring Tommy back?”

“Time to grow up, kid,” you say to him.

Agatha pats the floor and he cautiously sits down across from her.

You watch her work in only the way she can. Her instructions clear and concise. Just as prodding as they need to be to stir his memories, and get him talking. In another life she could’ve had a coven of disciples.

She keeps him focused on his breathing. Though she has no magic in this moment, you could feel it in her aura. The way she carries herself, there will always be a witch underneath it all.

When she grabs Billy, the lights flicker. Things become intense quickly. He hyperventilates, but Agatha holds him as he begins to rock.

He begins ramble about a dying boy his questions tug at your heart strings, but you remind him, “Don’t hesitate, Billy. Don’t be afraid of your power.”

“Am I killing this boy so my brother can live?”

He lets out a strangled scream, and then he’s gone.

The lights in the room are almost completely gone. Agatha sits still her place.

“No, Billy. Sometimes… boys die.”

It breaks you to hear her like that. You sit behind her and she leans back into your arms. The lights fade faster.

“I’m sorry, we should’ve left when had the chance,” she says unable to look at you.

You just hold her tighter, “Seeing you again has meant everything to me.”

She opens the locket and you both look at the strands of Nicky’s hair. She takes it out of it’s place, finding a small dandelion seed. Agatha sniffles and you bury your head in her shoulder. Your wings expand, wrapping around the both of you.

She looks between your wings and the seed, “Out of death, life.”

She lifts your face out of her shoulder, and swipes the small seed across your tear stained cheeks. She quickly buries it in a crack of the grounds foundation.

You watch as a dandelion quickly sprouts and the room begins to shake. You are quick to hop to your feet as the lights turn back on and the walls begins to shake. Dirt begins to fill the room, much like with your trial.

“What’s happening?”

“The trial is over, we can’t stay here, come on” you begin look towards the previously locked exit.

Agatha pushes the door, but it doesn’t budge. You join the effort to help her, but it’s like something is still blocking it.

“Stand back,” you push her behind you, ready to shoot your powers at the door.

Just as you’re about to blast it, the door is opens. You and Agatha rush through, covered in dirt

On the other side is the coven, who watch the two of stumble into Agatha’s backyard. Your back hits the grass and you close your eyes. You can’t remember the last time you were this relieved to be on the earth’s soil.

The peace doesn’t last long as Agatha tries to use her powers and it doesn't work.

“You have to be fucking kidding me? I WANT MY PRIZE,” Agatha exclaims.

You look at Billy from your spot on the floor, “What gives kid, everyone gets a prize, but her?”

“Why are you asking me?”

Rio ruffles the boy hair with a laugh, “Isn’t it obvious? Billy, conjured up the witches’ road.”

The other witches turn to him, with their jaws dropped. He begins to sputter and point wildly at you three, “Are we seriously going to believe them? Death, the Fallen Angel, and Agatha. What do they even know?”

“We know that the road was never real,” you say sitting up in your spot.

“But Agatha said she walked the road?” Alice points out.

“Is it surprising that she lied?” Jen chimes in.

“She didn’t lie,” Rio defends.

Your jaw clenches, you close your eyes and take a breath. You speak calmly, “Agatha, please… tell them truth about the road.”

She plays with the locket around her neck, “The ballad… I made it, with our son. That’s why I know it’s originally coven 2, it’s about me and him. It wasn’t even about witches, it was about the winding roads we used to have to travel.”

“What really happened to him?” Lilia is the one to ask.

Neither Agatha or Rio speak up. You bring your knees to your chest and face away from the coven, “Nicky, was born sick… he wasn't- he couldn’t. He was made from scratch. With tears of a fallen angel and a heartbeat from death.”

“Rotten ingredients,” Rio doesn’t hide the crack in her voice.

You nod, “Agatha was the only one who could provide him with flesh. It didn’t matter, how much with loved him. Our ingredients just never mixed well. Nicky wasn’t the first, but Agatha begged and pleaded.”

“And threatened,” Rio says quietly.

“Rio had already broken the rules for me. To do it again so soon, was a big risk for her.”

Alice was the one to ask, “What did you do?”

Rio bites her lip, “I could only give him time.”

You bury your head in your knees, “Being around him could’ve gotten Rio in trouble, so we all decided it would be best for us to keep our distance from Nicky.”

“How much time did he get?” Billy asks.

“He was only 6,” Agatha clutches the necklace harshly.

You bury yourself further into your knees as if it would protect you from her words. Rio looks at the ground, unable to relive this yet again.

The coven looks between the three of you, piecing the rest of it together. The tragedy of it all displayed across each one of your bodies.

“The one day I didn’t kill any witches, he died. I went on a rampage after that, I used the ballad to lure witches into my trap. Then I’d get them to attack me and drain them of their powers,” Agatha explains wiping her own tears.

“So that’s what you were going to do to us?” Billy asks, but his tone isn’t accusing.

“Pretty much,” she says with a bored tone.

Jen interrupts, “So you knew it was him the whole time, even with the sigil?”

“Well as soon as the road appeared, I had a hunch.”

They all begin to go back and forth about how it was all for nothing and unfair. The spew words of negativity at Agatha for hiding the truth from all of them. It doesn’t sit right with you or Rio.

“Are guys even listening to yourselves? Alice you aren’t cursed anymore, Lilia you’re done running from your powers, Jen you’re unbound, and Billy you reincarnated Tommy, all thanks to Agatha. So, what are you bitching about? She helped you all achieve what you wanted, whether you want to admit it or not,” Rio goes off on the group.

“She deserves this and as her coven you know that,” you say, getting to your feet.

“Fine, I’ll do it, just don’t kill me” Billy speaks up.

“Scouts honor,” Agatha says as Billy gears up to shoot her.

You stand next to Rio, leaning on her slightly. She wraps her arm around your shoulder, pulling you further into her side. She feels your eyes on her and meets them. You slowly glance over to Agatha and Billy and then back at her. She shakes her head and you nod to yourself.

When Billy shoots Agatha the coven gasp seeing Agatha’s power in real time, sucking the magic out of the boy.

“She’s going to kill him,” Alice mumbles under her breath.

“She won’t,” Lilia and Jen say at the same time.

Agatha hears them and subtly surprised by their confidence in her. Upon hearing it, she cuts the ties with Billy. He stumbles to the ground, but is quickly helped by the rest of the coven.

“Finally, everyone get what they wanted?” Rio claps her hands together.

The all hum in agreement.

“Great, now get out,” she points to the exit of the backyard.

It starts a commotion again as they start to talk over each other.

“SILENCE!” Your voice echoes causing them all to stop talking. “I get it, you’re a coven now, found family yay, etcetera, etcetera. As a familiar who has been separated from her witches, I would really hate for you to get in the way of what would be our first time alone together in centuries. That would really piss me off.”

They murmur in consensus.

“We’ll let you know when it’s ok to come over,” Agatha says shooing them away in the process.

They all pile into Billy’s car and the three of you wave them away. As soon as they pull off, you enter Agatha’s home.

“Well, now what?” Rio asks.

Agatha flicks her fingers replacing her dirt covered clothes, before doing the same to you.

“I don’t know about you, but my back has been begging for a mattress after sleeping on that awful ground,” Agatha cracks her back.

“Pillows,” you nod in agreement.

The three of you climb up the stairs to the bedroom. Once you’re inside, you fall face first into the middle of the bed. Moaning in pleasure as the bed melds to hold your body.

“I hope to hear more of that later,” Rio lays in the space to your right.

Agatha lays to your left, “Such a pretty sound, sweetheart.”

You groan, turning your head between the two women, “Yes, later we can do that, but now it’s time to sleep. So less talking, more cuddling.”

“It’s not even 5 pm.”

“I can go sleep on the couch if you want to argue with me,” you tell them.

“No,” they say in unison.

You smile, “That’s what, I thought. Now, hold me.”

Agatha and Rio’s fingers intertwine as they wrap their arms around you. It’s warm and safe, the horrors of the road, no longer haunting.

You too, had gotten what you wanted from the road. It was this. Rio and Agatha; you all back together. For a moment, having a simple domestic life.

You knew it wouldn’t last long, especially now that Agatha had her own little coven of chaos. Yet the thought of it made you smile. As long as the three of you were together, everything would work out alright.

[dollfacefantasy]

Restless Dreams

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets home late after another hard day at work to you having some extra sweet dreams.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, wet dream

word count: 3.6k

a/n: hey everyone!! hope you all enjoy this :) i guess i've been into soft leon with somno lately idk LOL. i was kind of tired myself when writing/editing this, so forgive any errors pretty please. new divider from here. thank you for any comments and reblogs <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

“So what time do you think you’re gonna get here?” you ask before blowing on the drying polish that coats your nails.

“My shift finishes up at 12, and then I gotta file some reports. I’ll probably be done at 1, so not too long after that,” Leon explains through the phone. Despite his attempt to lay it out for you, there’s still a pause, one he came to recognize as your reaction of displeasure. A smile plays on his lips. “But you know the real answer is as soon as I can.”

You look down at your phone on your vanity, a pout forming on your face. Obviously, it wasn’t his fault he had to work so much now. He’d warned you when he started at the police station a few months ago, but it didn’t prepare you for how much you’d miss him.

It made you feel dumb, that nagging, achy feeling of longing in your chest. It wasn’t like he was off to war or something. You still saw him almost everyday. But more and more of his time was consumed by work now. Even when he was with you, he was often exhausted. 

Sometimes all you could think about his new job was that he was your boyfriend, not theirs. You’d mentally scold yourself for being so immature when that happened, but the sentiment still lingered in your head.

“Ok…” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. He hears the dejection in your tone though.

“Baby,” he coos in that voice that sent warmth through your spine and got you to agree with everything he said, “You know I’d rather be with you. I’m just new and have to take the time to learn. Plus, with the caseload and the number of officers here, they need me at the station.”

“I need you more,” you say. You try to pass it off as playfulness, but it comes from real feelings. Your heart was beginning to tense with resentment for the RPD for taking him away so much. You knew the job meant a lot to him though which is why you would never unleash your admittedly petty frustrations.

A low laugh leaves him, and you can hear that loving smirk on his face as his voice comes through your phone’s speaker.

“Do you now? You’re really missing me that much?” he teases, leaning back in the driver’s seat of his cruiser. 

He knew that you did in fact miss him that much. And even though, since starting at the police station, he tried to project the image of a tough guy, he missed you just as much. That’s why he started calling you during lulls in his shift.

“Mhm. It’s not fair. It’s like I’m sharing you with the station. And I don’t like sharing,” you say with an exaggerated huff.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” he chuckles. He sighs happily, checking the time to calculate how much time was left before he could have you in his arms again. “But not much longer, baby. Then you get me all to yourself for the whole weekend.”

“I better,” you grumble with a smile.

“I promise you will,” he says genuinely. A light on his dashboard flickers, alerting him that his attention is needed elsewhere. “Just don’t stay up too late waiting for me tonight, ok? Your rest is important.”

“Seeing you is more important,” you respond.

“I know, but I prefer my girl when she’s not all cranky and sleep deprived. So try tonight, sweetheart. For me?” he asks.

“I guess,” you concede. Your heart already aches, knowing he’s about to hang up.

“I love you, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too,” you tell him before he disconnects the call.

The silence that falls over your room makes it feel even more empty. You tap the glass screen of your phone, scanning for the time before you finish getting ready for bed. Your mouth curves downward when the numbers light up on the screen.

Only 10:30. Too much time till you’ll hear him come through your front door, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. You haphazardly go through the rest of your routine before dragging yourself over to your bed and getting in.

Sliding between the soft pink sheets, you flop down against your pillow and stare at the ceiling as you contemplate how to kill the time. Nothing grabs your interest because none of it’s him. It’s all just filler.

And worst of all, you were starting to feel sleepy. You wanted to wait up for Leon so badly, but you also went through a whole day of your own that tired you out. Plus, your bed was just so comfy with your plush blankets and full pillows, stuffed animals and frilly decorative cushions scattered on one side.

Thinking it would help to keep your eyes actively focused on something, you try to read. Your eyes scan over the words, and it isn’t long before you realize you’d made a horrible mistake. Moving your eyes along the page only made them more drowsy.

Next you turn on the tv and put on something you didn’t really have to pay attention to. But the soft glow of the tv casts across you and the low chatter of the characters becomes background noise, making it even harder for you to keep your eyes open.

You lazily reach across your bed and grab the bunny stuffie Leon had bought for you a few weeks prior. Tucking it beneath your chin and close to your chest, your drooping eyes fall shut and your breaths become soft and even. Barely any time has gone by before you’re sinking into slumber.

Leon glances down at his phone, the small numbers illuminating 2:04 in the darkness of the hallway. He enters your place with the key you gave him and shuts the door as quietly as possible. He knows you’re sleeping from seeing the dark bedroom. Already feeling guilty for taking longer than he’d expected, he didn’t want to add to that feeling by waking you up.

He makes his way to your room, padding silently down the hall. Once he reaches the door, he pushes it open with almost no force in an attempt to avoid even the slightest creak. You’re where he expected you to be, curled up in your bed, completely peaceful as you slept. He knew he probably looked like a little lovesick puppy right about now, eager to hop into bed and snuggle up to your side, but he didn’t care.

It takes him no time to shed his police uniform. He makes quick work of unlacing his boots and kicking them off. His pants and shirt crumple up at the foot of your bed next to his belt and socks. Finally, once he’s got on a pair of sweatpants he kept at your place, he climbs into bed with you.

He shoves your stuffies and extra pillows out of his way with a playful roll of his eyes and gets as close to you as he can. His arm drapes over you, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, planting a few kisses on the base of your head. You smelled so good, felt so soft, perfect to come home to.

His body melts into the mattress, and he’s ready to give into his own urges to sleep. That is until he notices you’re not as peaceful as you appeared from the doorway. His eyebrows raise as he feels your legs squirming. Restless movements from your feet beneath the covers and your thighs shifting aimlessly against each other.

He’s ready to brush it off at first. ‘Must just be having some wild dreams,’ he thinks with another kiss to your head. But then he hears the faintest sound, so quiet that he probably would have missed it had he been focused on anything else. It’s a whimper. A gentle, tender squeak that slips from between your lips into the cool air of your bedroom.

Now, his face conveys his concern. He worries you’re having a nightmare. That at any moment you’ll wake up with tears in your eyes and your heart pounding out of your chest. Immediately, he begins stroking your arm, kissing your temple, murmuring “It’s ok, baby. I’m here.”

But you make that little noise again, and this time it paints a different picture in Leon’s head. This whimper didn’t sound scared or stressed, like you were crying out for his protection. No, this sound brought to mind images of you writhing beneath him, nails marking his biceps with small crescents as he pumped himself in and out of you.

He shakes his head because that couldn’t be it. That’s just his horny mind creating things that aren’t there from being so pent up.

At least that’s what he tells himself until you make the noise again. It brings the same memories up, but this time he’s even more sure of it. He lifts his head off of yours to look down at you and try to figure out what to do next.

You look so cute, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted. As he brushes some hair from your face, he notices your fingers clutching your stuffed rabbit a little tighter. Your breath hitches for a moment before you let out a soft, sleepy whine of his name.

It’s unmistakable now what’s going on. He smirks and traces a finger over your lips. The pad of his index finger drags on your bottom lip slightly, turning your mouth into that pout he loved so much. He leans and kisses your cheek as you whine again.

“Please.”

He chuckles at how needy you sound even in your sleep, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your shorts.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your panties. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit. Clearly, this dream was a pretty good one.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

In your dreams, Leon was doing a lot more than rubbing you with his fingers. After you had fallen asleep, it felt like no time had passed. All of the sudden you were just on the table in your dining room, spread out for his rapture. 

You didn’t realize you were dreaming, everything felt so real. To you, he was really there, looking down at you with those loving yet lecherous eyes. Hands roaming your exposed body, lips caressing your skin all over. Everything seemed light and airy while also feeling heavy and thick. Your head, filled with clouds, slipped in and out of the moment. The sensation of him rutting his cock between your thighs and sliding inside of you was your reality at the moment.

In actual reality, Leon continues to move his fingers slowly, swiping them over your entrance and taking them back up to circle your clit. You mewl when he applies some pressure, sending sparks through you. Your squirming becomes more motivated, and he can tell your drifting away from your restful sleep back toward consciousness.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You hear his voice in your dreams. The deep rumble enters your ears as you envision his hips pistoning into your wanting cunt. You mumble something in response, but he can’t understand the sleepy babbling. He rubs your clit a little harder with some more speed. You twitch in response, yet your eyes remain closed.

“I know, baby. I know it feels so good,” he coos and kisses behind your ear.

More incoherent words fall from your mouth. He sucks love bites into your neck, and you tilt your head back, craving more of that feeling. The dream version of him began mimicking the actions of the real Leon as you neared waking.

Whining louder, your fingers dig into the smooth fur of your plush bunny before letting it go. He nips at the sensitive skin of your throat as his fingers travel down and push inside your heat.

The feeling rips a moan from you and causes your eyes to open. Your back arches as he works them deeper. Your hips wriggle a little as you make sense of what’s happening.

“Leon?” you whimper. Your sleepy eyes struggle to stay open after being torn from the fog of sleep.

“That’s right, baby. It’s just me. You were having some nice dreams, weren’t you, pretty girl?” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum mindlessly.

“About me?” he teases, eyes watching your body fidget with the pleasure you felt.

“About you,” you confirm before he leans down and kisses your lips. They were so soft against his own. He slowly moves his mouth with yours and languidly slides his tongue against yours.

You moan into the kiss as his fingers curl within you and hit your favorite spot. Your feet lightly kick at the sensation. Your hips rise a little as you feel the flood gates holding your release about to break.

You’re too sleepy to tell him out right, but he knows the signs. He keeps working you there until your body seizes and arches off the bed. You let out a throaty moan and turn your head to bury your face against his shoulder.

“There you go. Let it all out, sweetheart,” he whispers and kisses your head.

You ride out the high on his hand, and by the time you’re done, you’re ready to fall asleep again. Your mind is hazy with the fog of release. You’re drifting off as your body settles without even realizing it.

You’re only yanked back to reality by Leon scooping you up into his lap. He’s sitting with his back to the headboard, and he situates you between his thighs, back against his chest. His arms keep you caged in nice and close, safe and warm.

“Don’t fall asleep again just yet, babydoll,” he murmurs while kissing up your neck.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder. The fight to stay awake gets a little easier as his hand returns to your soaked panties. He doesn’t tease this time, just slides in two fingers and starts moving them in and out.

The new angle makes you squirm and whine, but he holds you tight in place with his free arm.

“Gotta work you open, honey. Can’t just slide my dick in you with no warm up,” he says with a smirk.

His voice pulls you towards lucidity a little more. Your hands wrap around his free arm for support while your hips instinctively roll into his blissful touch.

“I missed you,” you choke out between gasps and whimpers.

“I know you did,” he teases, grinning against your throat. His cock throbs against the small of your back as his ears latch onto the sound of your slick around his fingers. “Came home to cuddle with my sweet girl, and I find her having such dirty dreams.”

Your cheeks heat up as you start to piece together what had happened. You fully realize now that your escapade on the kitchen table was entirely in your mind. You feel embarrassed for a moment, but the feeling dies pretty quick as you rapidly approach the edge for a second time.

“Not my fault,” you whimper shyly.

He chuckles and kisses your temple once more. “I know it’s not. If anything, it’s mine. I think I’ve been neglecting my baby,” he says with a mocking lilt in his voice.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

“Good girl,” he coos, “That’s it, just one more and then I can put you to sleep how you deserve.”

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Leon lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how his training had been paying off. Maybe this new job wasn’t all bad.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

“So wet. I can just slide right in,” he mumbles as his own hips twitch.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

He follows along and rests his face against your neck as he begins thrusting. You hear him panting right in your ear. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there’ll be marks.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

You nod lazily as you continue to clamp down around him. After two releases, you didn’t even feel a building ecstasy anymore, just a constant stream of pleasure.

“Leon,” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

“Wanna be sore after, don’t you, sweetheart? Want a reminder of me while I’m at work. Something to tide you over till I can do this again. Won’t have to rely on dreams then, right?” he says.

“Yeah,” you whimper. Your bed creaks as he picks up the pace, but your moans mask the sound as they grow in volume.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Ready for another one, honey? Gonna be the last one and then we’ll get you comfy and off to sleep.”

“Yeah,” you moan again, unable to say much else.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

“So sweet to me, baby. I hope that made up for the late night,” he whispers and strokes your hair.

“It did,” you say with a nod. Your eyes were already shutting again, ready to go back to sleep after being fucked so good.

He looks at you with all the love in the world as he pulls his sweats up. He then helps you pull your panties and shirt back on, trying to laugh at your sleepy, half-assed movements.

After that, he gets you all tucked in next to him, snuggled up in his arms like he originally intended. He even grabs that stuffed bunny he got you and fits it close to you in case you want it.

“Get some rest, honey. You need it,” he whispers while rubbing your back.

“Mhm,” you respond tiredly, “You too. You’re all mine for the weekend, and I don’t want you tired out the whole time.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna be tired out if we do some more of that again tomorrow,” he jokes. He pulls you close to him and shuts his eyes, nestling his head against yours and settling in to rest.

That puts a smile on your face and you nuzzle him once more before letting yourself fall asleep for the night.

[143hyunes]

when you help them shave

includes: ot8 x gn reader

genre: domestic fluff, crack(?), sfw

synopsis: you ask your bf if you can help him shave

warnings: implied established relationship, use of nicknames like baby; babe, lots of kissing, suggestive (lee know & seungmin), mention of blood in han's part, extreme **fluff**

wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: i saw a similar hc a while back, so i was hesitating whether i should upload this for the longest time (i've had this in the drafts since January 😭), my version is different from that one though, i can't believe i'm finally posting this. anyways i hope you like this <33 as always reblogs and feedback appreciated !!

CHAN

Days off with Chan were always eventful. Today was one such day and he was in a playful mood. The razor was in your right hand while you held onto his chin, in order to glide the razor easily across his jaw and cheeks. But Chan had other plans, you yelped out in surprise when he pulled your waist against his naked torso, the razor dropping from your hands, luckily the razor was not near his face and he didn’t get hurt. “Christopher! You could’ve seriously gotten hurt, please don’t do that again.”

“Yes ma’am!” He cheekily exclaimed, saluting you. When his hands went back to your waist again, you gave him a glare.

“What? Can’t I be close to my baby?” He said matter of factly. You sighed, you loved his cute antics, the way he was always seeking out your touch even when asleep, if he could he would never leave your side. “Okay, ok, I guess we can compromise.”

You led him out to your shared bedroom, setting the glass with water and shaving cream on the floor. When he sat down, he guided you to sit down on his lap. After you had settled on his lap, you started your handiwork on his face again. 

“All done.” You say grinning, satisfied with your work. “Finally.” He says before pulling you in for a kiss, the kiss is soft, tender and unhurried.

Both of you stop to take a breathe but don’t pull away from each other, almost sharing the same air. “I love you.” His sudden admission makes you blush. “Like I really, really love you.” He enunciated, nuzzling into your neck.

“Then will you make breakfast and do the dishes today?” He giggles.

“Anything for you baby.”

LEE KNOW

Your boyfriend’s insistence on not keeping a straight face was getting troublesome, you had been trying to shave his face for the past half an hour. He kept making goofy, semi scary expressions, you didn’t know how he could have so much control over his features. “Lee Minho, you’re really going to get hurt and ruin your shirt and it won’t be an accident.”

“I won’t hesitate to resort to violence.” You warn him again.

That seemed to make him stop but you should’ve known better, his hand had sneaked around you to get the bottle of the shaving foam. You dodged just in time but his attacks didn’t stop after his failed attempt. He finally managed to get the foam on your face. “You’re such a brat.” You scoffed.

You had to restrain him, that’s the only way you could get work done. Your left hand held both of his wrists behind his back while you used the right to shave his face, you tried to finish as quickly as possible because he could easily break free from your “constraints”. He played along though and was surprisingly cooperative. “Damn, babe I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff.”

“Shut up.” You knew you would not hear the end of it and soon his friends would also start teasing you. After you were done, you playfully, lightly slapped his right cheek. He sent you a skittish glare before caressing your neck and leaning in. You thought he would kiss you but he pulled away at the last moment. 

“Ugh,, you’re such a menace.”

“You know you love it.” You begrudgingly agree, giving his lips a chaste kiss.

CHANGBIN

“Bin, Bin!” You slowly shake his shoulders.”Don't fall asleep on me when I’m shaving your face.” You say while cupping his face, he leans into your touch giving your palm a soft kiss.

“Mhm hmm.” He hums.

You dutifully start shaving the side of his jaw again, when you clean the razor of the foam on it, you feel soft curly hair and hot breathe on your neck as he lays his head down on your shoulder.”Oh my baby is really tired, isn’t he?” You coo, your fingers massaging his scalp and he only lets out a cute grunt still laying on your shoulder. 

“Tell you what, if you let me finish shaving your face, I’ll make pancakes with chocolate chips for you.” That seems to wake him up and he obediently faces you. You laugh at his antics, the way to his heart was truly through food. 

You quickly shave the remaining hairs on his face and give him kisses all over his face. You watch as he snuggles back into the sheets, he looks so cute and endearing, you just want to bite him.

You make the pancake batter and add chocolate chips to it. You flip the last pancake and add it to the stack. Pouring his favourite apple juice into a glass, you take it and the plate of pancakes to him, you knock on the door to wake him up. He gives you a smile that you would kill for. 

His takes his first bite and smiles up at you again. “Really delicious, babe.” he says his mouthful of the pancake, he lifts his fork up for you to taste your creation. He always does this, sharing his food and feeding it to you too. 

After he’s done eating, he convinces you to take a nap with him. You can never resist him and the way his arms around you make you feel warm and safe. Slumber soon finds the both of you as you cuddle.

HYUNJIN

Hyunjin’s leaning against the wash basin, lowering his body so you can easily shave his face, he holds onto your waist for support. His hands are rubbing small circles on your waist and he’s humming along to one of your favourite songs that plays from the bluetooth speaker. Quiet nights like this where you have his undivided attention make you so giddy. 

Hyunjin always liked to hold intense eye contact, something that made you very shy at the start of you guys’ relationship, it still flusters you. His intense gaze on you right now was making your cheeks heat up, you’re always curious as to why he does that, so you decide to ask him right now.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you meekly ask him, the scrutiny of his gaze making you timid. 

“Nothing, you just look so cute while you’re concentrating on something.”

That makes you stop, your blush deepening at his confession. “But you always look at me like that.”

He seems to ponder over his next words, his lips and eyebrows quirking up, making him all the more endearing. A stray strand of hair falls into his face and you tuck it behind his ear, cupping his face. 

“It’s because I love you, I’m trying to commit your face to my memory, so you’re there even when I close my eyes.” He finally answers.

Sometimes you feel overwhelmed by the love he has for you, this feeling making you feel full, akin to having a meal with your loved ones where after your hunger is satiated due to the good food and the hearty conversations. 

Still cupping his face you lean in to kiss him, trying to convey your love and feelings you cannot describe through the kiss. And he understands, like he always does, both of you were so attuned to each other’s emotions and mannerisms like you were cut from the same clothe.

He breaks away from the kiss only to go back to kiss your forehead. It had become his 2nd favourite spot to kiss you, after you had let it slip one such night that you really liked forehead kisses because they made you feel loved and safe. 

HAN

Han had had a very eventful day today and you could tell from the way he was so excited to tell you all about it while you shaved his facial hair. He was a ball of energy even at the end of the day, his animated gestures making you smile.

He seemed to forget that you held a sharp razor in your hand and turned his head abruptly, you pulled your hand away but it was not soon enough.”Ow!” He yelped out in pain.

The razor had scratched his skin, making it bleed; fortunately the cut wasn’t too deep.

You remove the first aid kit from the bottom drawer, using the alcohol you clean his wound. It hurts your heart when he flinches from the sting of it, but you proceed to apply antiseptic cream to his wound, softly blowing on it, in hopes that it would hurt less.

You kiss the mole on his left cheek, you couldn’t resist it. He smiles, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful with the razor.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault babe, I should’ve been more attentive and not move around so much.” He reassured you, kissing your forehead.

“Let me kiss it better, unless it doesn’t hurt too much?” You grin cheekily.

He suddenly clutches the side of his face, acting like he’s in indescribable pain.”Oww, Y/N it hurts really bad, only my baby’s kisses can heal me now.”, he exclaims with a pout.

You giggle while kissing his soft lips, he leans into the kiss, holding your face.

Later you did each other’s skin care routine, you were of course careful of his wound, not wanting to hurt him. You spent the rest of the night watching anime cuddled up beside each other.

FELIX

Felix really liked being taken care of. The blush that creeped up his neck when you asked him if you could help him shave his face today, was indication enough. And you liked taking care of people. You were perfect for each other. 

The razor hovers just before his jaw while he looks at you with such a loving expression that it floors you. He looks so adorable even with his bed head, the sunlight streaming in through the bathroom windows, making his skin glow. The freckles on his face truly shining like constellations in the night sky. You were hit with a huge wave of love for him, you just couldn’t not kiss him, not when he looked at you like you had put up all the stars in the sky. So you did, feeling lucky to call him yours.

He smiled into your kiss, returning it with the same fervour.

“I love you, Lixie.” He only giggles, blush deepening. 

“Oh really? What a coincidence, because I love you too, baby.” His voice was deep and gravelly after the long hours of sleep and it was driving you crazy would be an understatement.

You only realise that you have shaving foam on your face when he wipes it off you, his movements delicate. You must have gotten it on you when you kissed him. 

After you were done, he made breakfast for the both of you, scrambled eggs for him and sunny side up for you. You loved how domestic all of this was and could imagine spending the rest of your days like this, basking in each other’s love. What you didn’t know was that Felix shared the same thoughts as you, already planning your future in his head.

SEUNGMIN

Seungmin was very apprehensive of the idea of you shaving his face, you were naturally clumsy and he was afraid you would abrade his skin.

“If I get hurt I’m suing you.”

“Kim Seungmin, do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

“No.” He says begrudgingly.

“Then you will listen to what I say.”

You gently drag the razor across his face while he stands as still as a statue. He really is afraid of you hurting him, so you decide to tease him. You flick the foam on his jaw and giggle when it lands on his hair. It looks like he has a cloud on his head, when your hand again goes to flick the foam, he grabs ahold of your wrists. “Why’re you such a brat today?”

“I just really like teasing you, Seung.” You say directly looking him in the eyes, his right hand holding onto your wrist, in between your faces. 

Releasing the grip on your hand, he leaned down, his hair touching yours and now you too, had a cloud on top of your head. “Now we’re even.”

“Hey! Not fair, you attacked when I was distracted!”

“You’re the one who started it.” He says while crossing his arms. He towered over you though it was not much, you caught him off guard when you tickled his sides. Soon enough, it turned into a tickle battle and both of you were out of breathe. 

You had no idea how it happened but he had somehow managed to cage you between his arms, your back against the glass wall of the shower. “You’re really such a brat.’ He says raising your chin with his pointer finger. “But it’s ok. I actually like it.” Before you know it, he’s leaning into kiss you. 

You don’t know how he could be so passionate with his kisses so early in the morning, his tongue fighting for dominance with yours. 

“I like being a brat for you too.”

JEONGIN

It was a lazy day in and you were cuddling with your boyfriend, when you had the idea to shave his facial hair. “Can I shave your face?” You asked as you looked up at him from where you lay on his chest. He makes a distinct sound of agreement to your question.

“Okay, let’s go.” You say pulling at his hand.

“Now? But I’m so comfortable.” He says pouting.

“What can I do to convince you?” You say nudging his side.

“Can we pleasee have Mc Donald’s for breakfast?” He asks, flashing his signature charming, dimpled smile.

“Hmm, it’s not healthy, you know that baby.”

“But-I’m also craving a hash brown. Oh what the hell, you only live once.” You say giving in.

He gives your cheek a kiss when you agree to his peculiar request.

Both of you decided to place the order after you were done shaving, since the food arrives fast. 

Jeongin was really compliant and before you knew it you were done, it was going surprisingly smoothly. He must have really wanted to eat his favourite shrimp burger.

You, however, soon realised that you had spoken too soon, as your boyfriend’s hand collided with dirty soap water and it almost spilled on you. Luckily for you his reflexes were strong and he caught the glass before it could spill on you.

“You’re such a klutz, babe.” You tch, teasing him.

“That’s not how you treat your saviour.” He haughtily replies, a lilt in his voice.

“You’re also the one who put me in harm’s way.”

“Okay, fair enough. Can we please order Mc Donald’s now?”

You go to the bedroom to find your phone and place the order. When food finally arrives, the smile on Jeongin’s face is so big that it makes you smile too. Lazy days would always be the best as long as your boyfriend was with you.

[blog-o-meter]

Room On Fire - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: With a few extra days left for holiday break before having to return to set, Nicholas holds up his end of the deal and decides to visit (Y/N) before the new year to get to know her family. (Y/N) is excited but nervous to have him over, and of course, things don’t go as planned.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, fingering, blowjob, shower sex, recording, public sex

required listening: Rooms On Fire by Stevie Nicks

word count: 42,987

a/n: oh my god guys 42k words CRYING EMOJI!! ok so since this one is so long, I might take a short break from the room series until I can figure out where the story might be going next and maybe focus my efforts on shorter, isolated fics. pls pls PLEASE let me know what you liked/didn't like, as it'll help me with improving my writing!! and if you'd like, send requests/ideas to my ask!! I'll definitely need the help to get out of the 'room' box I put myself in. Again, you don’t need to read the other parts, each part could be enjoyed individually!

Room 5 (Part 1) | Making Room (Part 2) | Room To Breathe (Part 4)

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

It arrived — the day that I had been both anticipating and dreading since Nicholas had first mentioned it in passing; it was the day he would visit me and meet my family for the first time. I had imagined the moment a hundred different ways, rehearsing possible conversations and preparing myself for every conceivable reaction. Still, nothing could quiet the tiny knot of anxiety in my chest as I cleaned the house, preparing for his arrival.

Desperate to keep my family away from him, I first tried to subtly hint to him that a hotel would be the best place for him to stay, as it would give us more privacy, and for a moment, I had him convinced. I told him we could be as loud as we wanted, neither of us had to be on edge the entire time, and there was room service! However, my mom came into my room without knocking, like always, her feather duster in hand.

I immediately tensed up at her presence, turning my laptop screen slightly away from her and leaning over the camera. “Mom, I’m on call with Nic,” I whispered to her.

She swatted her hand lightly, dismissing my hint for privacy, “It’s ok, honey. You continue; I’m just dusting,” she smiled politely, though I knew it was anything but polite. Mischievous, more like.

I didn’t want to hang up on Nicholas, knowing he only had just a few minutes before he had to get back to work and I wouldn’t have another chance to talk to him until the day after, so reluctantly, I continued our FaceTime call with my mom in the room. Though, perhaps, I should’ve known better.

“What day would your flight be?” I asked him, bringing my leg up onto the seat of the chair and resting my chin on my knee, keeping an eye on my mother as she shifted the stuff on top of my dresser around.

I watched as he pulled the camera goofily close to his face as he tapped away on his phone to read the airline webpage, earning a soft giggle out of me. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips as he realized his camera was on his forehead, “There’s one on a Sunday,” he spoke as he pulled his phone away so I could admire his entire face, leaning back into the couch in his trailer.

He had an endearing grin, an amusing contrast from the pristine business suit and fake blood splattered all over his face for the new American Psycho movie he starred in. He looked absolutely hot.

His grin lingered for a moment, but I couldn’t help noticing how it didn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually did. His boyish excitement for the role, which had been contagious at the start of filming, seemed to have dimmed. The twinkle that used to light up his face whenever he talked about his craft — the way he’d gush about his favorite scenes or the complexities of the character — was missing.

“You’ll have a few days off after, right?” I asked softly, studying him.

Nicholas nodded, brushing a hand through his messy hair, smearing some of the fake blood onto his temple without noticing. “Yeah, Luca’s giving us a break before we hit the really heavy scenes after the holidays.”

“How’s that going?” I asked, keeping my voice light, though I could feel the weight behind the question. “Are you… still excited about it?”

For a moment, his expression softened, the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, of course. It’s just…” He paused, looking down at his hands as if he were trying to find the right words. “I mean, I knew Patrick Bateman was dark, but really stepping into his world…” He trailed off, his brows knitting together.

I leaned forward slightly. “Are you taking care of yourself?” I asked gently.

He looked up at the camera, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You sound like my therapist," he teased, but the humor dian't fully land. He shifted on the couch, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm fine. Really. It's just... Patrick gets under your skin, you know? He's not the kind of guy you can just shake off at the end of the day."

I nodded, understanding but not fully convinced. Nicholas had always been dedicated to his craft, immersing himself completely in every role he took on. But this time felt different. The intensity of Patrick Bateman — the violence, the obsession with perfection, the darkness – seemed to be seeping into him in ways he couldn't quite articulate, at least to me.

"It's okay to take a step back," I said softly. "Even if it's just for a few days. You don't have to carry him around with you all the time."

He let out a soft laugh, but it was strained, almost hollow. "Easier said than done. This role is... it's everything l've ever wanted. It's iconic. But sometimes I wonder..." He stopped himself, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought. "Never mind. It's fine."

I frowned, my heart aching for him. "Nic," I said firmly, catching his attention. "You can talk to me. Whatever you're feeling, it's okay. You don't have to carry it alone."

His gaze softened, the vulnerability in his eyes clear even through the screen. "I know," he murmured. "And that's why I can't wait to see you. You... you're my anchor, you know that?“

My chest tightened at his words, a mixture of love and concern washing over me. "I'll be here," I promised. “The flight’s on a Sunday, you said?”

I watched as he nodded his head. I clapped my hand once, hoping to lighten the mood a bit, “That’s perfect. I’ll be able to pick you up then,” I said, trying to focus on him and not the fact that my mom was still pretending to dust the same spot on my dresser our entire conversation.

“Pick him up from where?” she chimed in, her tone light, but her interest was anything but. She tried to keep her voice low enough so Nicholas wouldn’t be able to hear, but of course, he did.

“The airport,” I replied curtly. “I told you he might visit.”

“Oh, you did!” She rounded my bed and made her way over to my desk, hugging my shoulders as she bent down to look at my screen, “Are you staying at that new hotel downtown, Nicholas? It’s very nice.” She flashed a too-bright smile at the camera, making no effort to hide her eavesdropping.

Nicholas straightened himself out the moment my mom came into frame, sitting straight on the couch, pulling the camera away from his face even further, and politely smiling at the camera, “I hadn’t booked anything yet. We were still figuring that out.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” she swatted her hand, smiling, “You can come stay with us!” She exclaimed, tightening her grip around my shoulders. I stiffened under hold. Her nails were basically digging into my skin like talons. She was the hawk, and I was the frail little mouse trapped in her hold.

“Nicholas and I were thinking about staying in a hotel,” I interjected, hoping she’d take the hint and not insist. But then my mom leaned closer to the camera, her voice taking on that sickly sweet tone she always used when she wanted something.

“Nonsense. Nicholas, we might have a full house, but you’re more than welcome to stay with (Y/N) in her room. Plus, it’ll give us a chance to get to know you better,” she smiled.

I could see the conflict flash across Nicholas's face, his instinct to be polite overriding any chance of him declining. He gave me a small, apologetic smile before saying, “That’s incredibly nice, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I’d be happy to stay with you.”

My stomach sank as my mom beamed with triumph, practically patting herself on the back for winning him over. She gave him one last beaming smile before finally releasing me and strolling out of the room and shutting the door behind her, as if she hadn’t undermined my entire plan to keep Nicholas as far away from the family as possible.

As soon as she was out of earshot, I turned back to Nicholas, my face twisted into a grimace. “I am so sorry.”

His laugh was soft and warm, putting me at ease despite my embarrassment. “It’s fine, really. She’s just looking out for you. Like how you look out for me.”

His optimism was endearing, but he didn’t understand the half of it. What he didn’t know was that there was an unspoken tension between my mom and I ever since I came back from visiting him in Los Angeles. I had hoped it would simmer down over time, like it always does, but this time… it felt much different. The tension with my mom had always followed a predictable pattern: her attempts to assert control, my efforts to maintain some semblance of independence, and eventually a cooling-off period where we both pretended nothing had ever happened.

This time, though, the friction felt more invasive, more calculated. It wasn’t just her usual meddling or harmless nagging; she was weaving herself into something that mattered to me more than anything else, something I was still learning how to protect. Having Nicholas  in my life had introduced a complication she couldn’t fully control, and so her presence was doubling — hovering over me in my own room, inserting herself into conversations. The more I tried to pull myself away, the more she pressed, as if refusing to let me slip away into any world that did not revolve around her approval.

Nicholas’s voice brought me out of my thoughts, “Plus, don’t you think it’ll be hot to have me tangled between your pink bed sheets?”

I gasped at his comment, rushing to lower the volume a bit, afraid my mom might be lingering outside my door. “Nicholas,” I whispered, widening my eyes, proceeding to bring my finger up to my lips to shush him. We had never talked dirty so openly on a FaceTime call during the day, and not right after my mom had been inside my room.

His head fell back in a fit of laughter, “C’mon, don’t tell me otherwise.”

I tried to fight the smile curling at the end of my lips, glancing over to my bed. I imagined Nicholas lying there, his long frame sprawled across the pink sheets I’d grown up with — the ones my mom had refused to let me replace because they still had a few good years left, even though they were already close to 12 years old.

I pictured the way his hands would skim the edges of my cream-colored quilt, the slight smirk that would curl on his lips as he teased me about my room — probably something about the dolls I’d never outgrown or the fairy lights I’d strung around my window. And then he’d pull me close, his teasing forgotten, his voice low and rough as he whispered something that would send a shiver down my spine.

“Doesn’t your break end in a bit?” I asked, ignoring his question purposefully.

A satisfied grin splayed across his face, knowing he was right about my fantasy. “Okay, I’ll book the flight and send you the details,” he sighed, sad to hang up. “I’ll call you tomorrow, babe,” he brought his phone up to his lips and kissed the camera.

“Bye, Nic,” I blew him a kiss before waving goodbye and hanging up, letting out a sigh and letting myself fall back into my chair.

Fuck, he’s visiting.

I tried to hide Nicholas’s existence from my family when we first started talking, particularly my mom, for as long as I could, knowing that the moment they’d find out, I’d be relentlessly teased about him or they would just anticipate the moment it was over between us. It was months and months of late night phone calls and trying to bite back the smile on my face as I texted him during family outings. There were times my family, mainly my mom, pointed out my constant habit of stepping out for a bit or excusing myself while we hung out or going to bed “early,” but they never really pressed after I gave them a plausible excuse.

However,  when I came back from Los Angeles and my mom had noticed my new necklace — the one he had given me with his initial engraved on the back — the suspicious look on her face was enough for me to give in, reluctantly telling her the truth about my trip to Los Angeles.

“What do you mean you met up with some guy?!” She angrily asked me, squeezing her temples with her fingers and closing her eyes in irritation, her hallmark sign of disappointment. It was like she had just been disillusioned with the “perfect” daughter she had raised all these years. In a way, however, I understood her anger. The idea of your child flying cross-country to meet up with a guy she hadn’t told you about was scary. But I was 23-years-old — not a child.

She paced back and forth in the living room while I sat anxious on the couch, my carry-on still at my feet, trying my best to calm her down, though I knew she wouldn’t. “He’s not just some guy, Mom,” I had said, my voice cracking under the weight of her judgment. “Nicholas is… different. He loves me,” I said, grazing my finger over my heart charm, wishing Nicholas was with me in this moment. In a way, he was. He always was.

My mom stopped mid-stride, narrowing her eyes at me as if I had just uttered the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. Her gaze then softened, sitting down next to me and running her fingers delicately through my hair, sympathetically smiling at me, as if I was a little baby, too new to the world. “Loves you?” She asked softly, resting her finger under my chin, “Honey, do you even know what love is?“

Her words stung more than I expected. “I do, Mom,” My voice was soft but firm, though it was clear she wasn’t convinced. “He showed me what love is supposed to be like, and it’s not…” I spoke, glancing over to her hands on my face before my gaze faltered downwards, afraid to look her in the eye.

She sighed heavily, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” The undertone of condescension still lingered in her voice, like I was too naive to understand the risks of putting my heart in someone else’s hands. And I did understand the risks, completely. After that weekend, I had decided that Nicholas was worth all the heartbreak that might come with loving him. I loved him that much.

I flinched, my fingers curling into fists in my lap. “You don’t even know him,” I retorted, my voice sharper than I intended. Quick to de-escalate, I sighed and softened my tone, “He’s not like that, Mom. He cares about me.”

She sat quiet for a moment, petting my hair one last time before retracting and crossing her arms. She eyed me like I was some sort of puzzle she desperately wanted to crack, but then, she broke the silence, “Do you at least have any pictures of your trip with him?”

I sniffled, a little apprehensive at her sudden curiosity. She never resigned so easily. Reluctantly, I pulled out my phone from my pocket, scrolling to the folder I’d created on the plane over, just for the two of us. My thumb hovered over the screen for a second, debating whether showing her these pictures would make things better or worse. But then I thought of Nicholas — his genuine smile, the way he laughed, the way he made me feel seen — and thought maybe showing her the pictures would ease her mind a bit.

I handed her the phone, bracing myself for her reaction. She tapped through the photos slowly, her brows furrowing at first, but gradually her expression softened. There was a selfie of us in his car after he had picked me up from the airport, the bouquet he had gotten me between us. Another of him making a silly face while we ate dinner at his place together. Another of us at the park while he lay reading his book on the picnic blanket. Another of us at the party we had gone to. And then there was my favorite — a candid shot he’d taken of me laughing, completely unaware he even had his phone out, the morning after he had given me the necklace.

Her lips twitched into a small smile as she swiped. “He’s… handsome,” she admitted grudgingly, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “And you look happy.”

I nodded, the lump in my throat easing slightly as I looked at the picture of myself laughing. “Yeah,” I spoke softly, clutching at my necklace.

So now, there I was, anxiously pacing around the house trying to fix anything that was out of place and tidying up before I had to go pick Nicholas up at the airport.

I started in the kitchen, preparing a sheet of cookies and throwing them into the oven while I started the chores. The sunlight streaking past the tree branches and through the window at the end of the kitchen highlighted every crumb and speck of dust that I hadn’t noticed before. I could recognize almost every meal each crumb and stain belonged to. Ew, is this really how we had been eating this entire week?

I grabbed a sponge and went to work, scrubbing in tight circles until the faint stains disappeared and swiped the crumbs off every surface. The floors were next. Armed with a broom, I swept every inch of the tile, then mopped it until it gleamed. I emptied the sink of dishes, meticulously washed and dried each one, and arranged them neatly in the cabinets.

Next was the living room. I fluffed every pillow on the couch and straightened the throws draped over the armrests. The coffee table bore the marks of messy nieces and nephews that loved to snack in front of the TV, so I wiped it down, replacing the haphazardly stacked magazines with a single glossy issue arranged just so. The family photos lining the media console caught my eye, and I quickly dusted them, making sure none looked out of place.

Then, I headed to my room, the place he’d be staying. The faded pastel walls, which I once adored, now felt too juvenile. The colorful glow-in-the-dark stickers I’d haphazardly plastered on my ceiling years ago seemed to mock me. It made my ceiling look like a cake topped with delicious sprinkles, which usually I liked, but now, maybe it was a little too much. The tiny collection of Hello Kitty and Bratz dolls that adorned the top of my desk stared back at me with judgment. Even the lace-trimmed curtains, which cast a soft, romantic glow during sunset, felt too frilly and immature. The only things that brought a semblance of maturity to my room were my bookshelves and the collection of CDs, DVDs and books that adorned them.

I sighed, scanning the room critically. It was as if my life was on display, my personality in every corner, and I wasn’t sure I wanted Nicholas to see every phase of it, at least not so in-his-face. I started with the easiest fix: the toys. Carefully, I gathered my Hello Kitty and Bratz dolls, wrapping them in a spare sheet of fabric and tucked them into the top of my closet. Out of sight, out of mind. I would be sure to put them back out once Nicholas flew back to New York.

I stood back, chewing on my lip, trying to decide if the stickers on the ceiling would be a dealbreaker. Eventually, I climbed onto my bed and stood on my tiptoes, peeling  most of them off, though a few stubborn ones refused to budge. I decided those could stay. Maybe I could make some romantic comment about them as Nicholas and I lay in bed together. He’d absolutely love my attempt at corniness.

I took down the lace curtains and replaced them with some old, sheer ones that used to be in the guest room before my mom redecorated. My bedside table was decluttered, leaving only a small lamp, my alarm clock, and the novel I was currently reading — American Psycho. The pink walls, however, were a lost cause. Suddenly, I kicked myself for choosing the princess pink color instead of the porcelain white like my mom had suggested all those years ago. She was right. How was she always right?

Lastly, I stared at the simple, floral cream quilt that adorned my bed. It looked so romantic, possibly my favorite piece of decor in my entire room. It made me feel like I was in some house in the southern countryside. And after fantasizing how Nicholas might look tangled up between the quilt and the sheets, I wasn’t particularly in any rush to switch them out. Those could stay, too.

I stepped back to survey my work. The changes weren’t much, but it eased my mind a little. It was minimalist compared to its usual state, looking the tiniest bit less like a dollhouse, but it didn't feel entirely foreign. It still looked like me, just... a more put-together version of me. It felt wrong, hiding a part of myself. It’s not like he hadn’t seen my room before in the background of all our FaceTime calls, but I wanted him to see me as an adult — someone confident, someone who could match his level of  independence. 

The smell of warm cookies wafted into my room, prompting me to walk out to the kitchen. As the hot air enveloped me when I pulled the treats out of the oven, my mom made her way over. I whipped my head up at the sound of her footsteps, smiling at her.

“I’m just gonna let these cookies rest while I finish getting ready, then I’ll head over to the airport to pick up Nicholas. Is everybody gonna be here by the time we’re back?” I asked, setting the tray of cookies down on top of the stove and fanning the heat away with the oven mitt.

My mom leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her face flashing a closed-mouth smile. “Your brothers are already on their way, and you know your dad always gets home right before dinner is served.” Sensing my nervousness, she inched her way over, cupping my face in her hands. “Are you sure you’re ready to have Nicholas stay with us for an entire weekend?”

It was the way she asked the question that irritated me beyond words. It was like she was purposely trying to psych me out. But… was I? Of course, I wanted Nicholas to be here. I hadn’t seen him in so long, since Los Angeles, but the thought of him navigating my family… The thought alone was enough to second guess my excitement. And what if truly seeing me in my natural element made him second guess visiting? What if we overwhelmed him? Would they scare him away?

I pulled her hands away from my face, walking away from her to make my way toward my room, “Why do you always do that?” I didn’t mean to sound irritated, but I did.

My mom followed after me, her footsteps deliberate but not rushed. “Do what?” she asked, feigning innocence, though the knowing tone in her voice betrayed her.

I turned to face her in the hallway, trying to keep my voice level. “Make me doubt myself. You always ask questions like you’re trying to plant some little seed of doubt in my head. You’re the one that insisted Nicholas stay here while he visited. Why is it suddenly a problem?”

Her breath caught in her throat, out of surprise…? She subtly shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her feet, “It’s not a problem; I’m just saying,” she spoke softly.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe of my room. “Just saying what, Mom? That you don’t think he’s going to stick around? That I shouldn’t let myself get too comfortable? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

She straightened, her expression hardening for just a moment before softening again. “Honey,” she began, her voice gentler this time. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re young, and he’s… well, he’s in demand. It’s not that I don’t want this to work for you. I just—” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’ve seen how these things can go.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Mom, I know his life is different, but we’ve made it work so far, haven’t we? Hell, you didn’t even know I was dating him for months! I know what I’m doing — what we’re doing — Mom. I’m not a little girl.”

That’s when she took a peek inside my bedroom, noting the irony in my words. There was a long pause before she nodded, her hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “If you say so,” she said finally. Does she hear herself? She must. “Now, get ready. I’ll start dinner,” she gently squeezed my shoulder and walked away.

I retreated to my bedroom, shutting the door and leaning against it, letting out a shaky breath. I slid down to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, taking a moment to collect myself. My heart was pounding in my chest. Why did every conversation with my mom feel like a battle, one she always had the upperhand in? It wasn’t that I didn’t value her opinion, I did, but her doubts, her subtle jabs, they clung to me like stubborn cobwebs, clouding my thoughts.

I tilted my head back, staring at the few stubborn star stickers on the ceiling. Nicholas. He always had this uncanny way of making me feel like I could handle anything, like I was more than enough just as I was. That was one of the biggest things I had learned the last time I saw him, and it was something I’d carry close to my heart. I could already hear his voice in my head, telling me to breathe, to let it go. He was my calm, my calm that was about to land in an hour.

I pushed myself up, determined to shake off the unease. There wasn’t time to dwell on this. I needed to finish getting ready. I rummaged through my closet, deciding on a simple blouse and pants paired with some fur-lined boots to brace my feet for the unseasonably cold weather. Yes, it was technically winter and there would be some cool breezes here and there, but it would never get this cold until late January. 

As I checked myself in the mirror, I caught a glimpse of the necklace he’d given me, glinting against my skin. I ran my fingers over the charm, taking a steadying breath. Whatever my mom thought, whatever doubts she had, they didn’t matter. Nicholas and I were building something real, something that felt solid in a way I couldn’t explain to her, and I don’t think anybody besides us could understand that. But was it so wrong of me to still want her support?

Grabbing my keys, I headed out, my mom giving me a knowing look as I passed through the kitchen. Silently, I grabbed some warm cookies and packed them into a paper bag so Nicholas could have something to snack on during our drive back.

“Drive safe,” my mom spoke, her voice softer this time, almost apologetic. I gave her a nod, not trusting myself to say more, and stepped outside into the cold evening air.

The drive to the airport was quieter than I expected. The town lights began to grow scarce the more I drove as I navigated the backroads, my mind drifting between thoughts of Nicholas and my mom’s parting words. I rolled the windows down slightly, allowing the cool air to rush in and mix with the warm scent of cookies. The radio played softly in the background, but my mind wasn’t on the music. I was thinking about Nicholas — how I’d be able to bury my face in his chest again and absorb his scent. I missed being in his arms more than anything in the world. He was the only one that truly understood me, my wants and needs.

The soft hum of the tires against the asphalt seemed to lull me into a sense of calm, though my thoughts raced on. The further I drove, the more I could imagine Nicholas’s smile when he finally saw me, when I could wrap my arms around him after months apart and our busy schedules — his movie, my new project at work. It almost felt surreal. My hands tightened around the wheel, not from nervousness, but from the surge of excitement that made my heart race in my chest. I couldn’t wait for the second that I could kiss him again, devour him. As the airport slowly came into view, I felt the first real pang of reality. The distance between us, the time apart, seemed to fade into the background with each passing minute.

Our town’s airport was tiny and only a couple of gates, so there were barely any cars parked on the curb at Arrivals. I pulled into the nearly empty parking lot, the glow from the overhead lights casting long shadows across the pavement. I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and anticipation coursing through me. As I parked the car, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart. This was it. In just a few moments, Nicholas would be standing right in front of me.

I grabbed the bag of cookies and quickly made my way toward the entrance. The chill in the air nipped at my skin, but it didn’t matter. I could feel the warmth of the moment building with each step.

As I entered the terminal, the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the echoing chatter of the few travelers filled the air. I scanned the area, hoping to spot Nicholas right away. And then, I saw him riding the escalator downward toward the ground floor, tapping away at his phone..

Just then, my phone rang loudly, echoing through the borderline empty airport. Nicholas whipped his head up at the sound, the biggest grin growing on his face the moment his eyes landed on me.

I felt my breath hitch as I watched him. He was dressed casually but effortlessly — a black sweater layered under a dark blue blouson, paired with dark jeans that clung perfectly to his long legs. A duffel bag hung over one shoulder, his other hand tucked into his pocket as he rode the escalator with an easy confidence.

But it wasn’t just his clothes that caught my attention. It was him — all of him. His perfectly trimmed hair was slightly tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it during the flight, and the faintest shadow of two days worth of stubble dusted his jaw. His eyes, those impossibly deep, brown eyes, were locked on me, warm and full of emotion. It was a stark contrast to the last time I’d seen him on FaceTime, his gaze weighed down by the intensity of his role. Now, that familiar sparkle was back, and it was all for me.

Nicholas didn’t hesitate, not for a second. Immediately, he trotted as quickly as he could down the moving escalator. The moment his feet hit the floor, the distance between us closed in an instant. My heart thumped in my chest, a mix of nerves and longing that had been building for the last 6 months. He reached me in what felt like a breath, his arms wrapping around me, lifting me off the ground as if the weight of time apart hadn’t existed at all.

I laughed, a sound of pure relief and joy, burying my face in the crook of his neck as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. His scent was all-encompassing — that intoxicating cedarwood and vanilla. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of him against me, a sensation I had craved for far too long.

He set me down on the floor gently, his forehead resting gently against mine, as though absorbing the closeness before something more. The world around us seemed to blur and slow, the soft hum of the airport fading into the background as I lost myself in him. Slowly, he leaned closer, and I felt his lips hover just above mine, teasing. The tension was palpable, the space between us charged with everything that had been building since we’d last seen each other. Then, with a quiet sigh, he kissed me.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic, though every second felt like it held a lifetime’s worth of longing. His lips were soft, tender, as if asking for permission even though we both knew the answer. My hands found their way to his neck, pulling him closer, needing him just a little more. The kiss deepened, slow and perfect, as if the universe had arranged this exact moment just for us. The world, the noise, the doubts — all of it faded away. All that existed was the undeniable bond between us and us alone.

A quiet groan escaped from the depths of his chest. The sound sent a ripple of warmth through me, igniting a deep flame in me. His hands cupped my face, his thumbs gently brushing along my jawline, as if he couldn't get enough of me, of this moment. It was as though we were trying to make up for every moment we had spent apart, pouring every unspoken word, every feeling, into that kiss. His lips were insistent now, but still patient — a perfect balance of hunger and tenderness. My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him even closer, if that was even possible. His breath mingled with mine, warm and inviting, and I was lost in the taste of him — the familiar, comforting yet electrifying taste of someone who felt like home.

The heat between us was undeniable, growing stronger with each press of his lips, each soft sigh that escaped his mouth. His hands trailed down my back, pulling me flush against him, and I felt the solid press of his chest against mine, the weight of his presence grounding me. He was here. Finally, here.

When we finally pulled away, our lips swollen and tingling from the intensity, neither of us could speak right away. We were both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting together, as if unwilling to separate for even a moment. The airport had faded completely, the hum of the air conditioning and distant footsteps drowned out by the pounding of our hearts. His eyes, darkened with emotion, searched mine as though he was memorizing every detail, every little thing that had been waiting for this reunion.

"God, I needed that more than you know," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, a trace of longing that faltered into a soft chuckle.

I smiled, my hands still wrapped behind his head. “I think we both did,” I murmured, my voice thick with the same longing he’d just expressed.

Nicholas furrowed his eyebrows, confused at the warm feeling behind his neck and reached for the hand cradling the back of his head, feeling the warm paper bag. “What’s this?” He asked.

I chuckled softly, realizing I still had the bag of cookies clutched in my hand. “Oh, right,” I said, pulling back just enough to glance down at the bag. “I made you something. Thought you might like a little something sweet after your flight.”

His grin widened as he pulled the bag from my hand, his fingers brushing mine in the process. “Cookies, huh?” He raised an eyebrow playfully, his voice filled with affection. “You really know the way to my heart, don’t you?”

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through me at the simple exchange. “I know you have a thing for sweet things,” I teased.

Nicholas gave me a mock-serious look, tearing open the top of the bag and pulling out a cookie. He took a bite, his eyes closing for a moment. He took his time, savoring the soft texture of the cookie. His lips parted slightly as he chewed, his gaze momentarily shifting to the ceiling as though he were lost in the moment. The way he closed his eyes, lost in the indulgence of something so simple sent a shiver down my spine.

As he swallowed, his eyes slowly met mine again, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Mmm," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the hint of satisfaction curling around each moan.

The corner of my mouth quirked up, unable to tear my eyes away from the way he continued to enjoy the cookie, each bite slow and deliberate. He leaned in slightly, taking another bite. The way his lips wrapped around the cookie, taking in the sweetness with such intent, made my pulse quicken. He didn't break eye contact, holding me captive with the intensity of his gaze.

As Nicholas finished the cookie, he dusted the crumbs off his hands and pulled me in by the hips, planting a kiss near my ear, whispering, “They taste amazing.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine at his whisper, the heat of his breath sending a jolt through me. My heart raced, my skin tingling from the closeness of his body, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on my skin. But as much as my body yearned for more, I knew I had to keep it together. We were still in public, still in an airport, and I had my family waiting for us back at the house.

But Nicholas, ever the tease, seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He pulled back just enough to look at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I think these cookies might be my new favorite thing."

I chuckled, trying to maintain my composure, but his gaze never left mine, that knowing smile never leaving his lips. He stepped closer, his body nearly flush against mine, and the heat between us intensified. I could feel the quiet electricity that buzzed through the air, every inch of my body aching to close the distance, but I couldn't. Not here. Not now.

Nicholas, as if sensing my struggle, leaned in again, but this time, he just hovered near my lips, not kissing me, but close enough to make my breath hitch. His eyes flicked to my lips for a moment, then back up to my eyes, and he let out a soft, breathy laugh. "You look like you want more," he teased, his lips brushing lightly against mine but never fully committing.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, and I knew I was flushed from the inside out. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, but I couldn't fight the urge to lean into him, just a little bit more. My fingers curled into his shirt, but I stopped myself before I could pull him closer.

I let out a breath I didn't realize l'd been holding, trying to regain my composure. "You're cruel," I murmured, though I couldn't hide the smile tugging at my lips.

Nicholas grinned, leaning in one last time to place a soft kiss on my forehead. "You love it," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and affection.

I let out a soft laugh, feeling a sense of relief wash over me, despite the fire still simmering beneath the surface. As much as I wanted more — as much as I needed more — I knew we would have our time. But for now, the teasing, the gentle push and pull between us, would have to be enough, even if it wasn’t. I had to take him home to the firing squad waiting for him. Without another word, I took his hand and led us away from the terminal, leaving the heat between us simmering just beneath the surface.

As we stepped outside into the cool night air, the excitement of our reunion still buzzing between us, I slid into the driver's seat, giving Nicholas a quick glance before starting the engine as he climbed in and tossed his singular duffel bag to the backseat. I started the car, effortlessly driving us out of the parking lot, paying the fee, and leaving the airport behind.

The town was pitch black as we drove, especially the outskirts, where the few lampposts scattered along the main roads barely illuminated the way. Their weak, flickering lights cast long, eerie shadows across the pavement, creating fleeting impressions of movement that disappeared as quickly as they appeared. The resaca, with its still, dark waters and overgrown banks, stretched alongside the endless roads. The occasional glint of moonlight reflected off the surface, giving the area an almost ethereal, otherworldly quality.

Large properties lined the water, their sprawling lawns disappearing into the inky shadows of towering mesquite trees. Most of the houses were set far back from the road, their silhouettes barely visible through the dense foliage. A few of the homes had faint lights glowing from their windows, but not enough to make them seem particularly inviting. Creepy, more like.

During the drive, Nicholas and I participated in a conversation that was as if we had never been separated by distance or schedules. He refrained from telling me the entertaining details of his holidays at his dad’s over the phone, anticipating the moment he could tell me all about it in person. I had asked him how filming in the New York slush had been going, to which he would alternate between speaking somberly about how the filming had been tiring at times but also giving into his enthusiasm for having the privilege of playing such an iconic character and working under an equally iconic director.

He kept up a steady stream of anecdotes from his time away, his voice carrying a sense of nostalgia, as if sharing his experiences with me made them all the more real. I listened intently, laughing at his recreations of certain moments, watching him snack on the entire bag of cookies, and enjoying how effortlessly he seemed to slip back into the comfortable cadence of our conversations. Though, I could tell he was a little sleepy.

As we drove through the outskirts of town, the moonlight casting soft shadows over the winding road, I found myself stealing glances at him every few seconds. Truthfully, the more he talked, the more I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, off his lips. I was so excited to be near him again that I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, finding every excuse to run my fingers through his hair, hold my hand in his, or rest my hand on his knee. I just needed to feel him under my fingertips every second.

Nicholas responded in kind. He’d brush his fingers through the back of my head, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the hair near my ear. He’d grab my hand and leave gentle kisses on my knuckles and my wrist. But what drove me insane was when he rested his hand on my thigh, tracing lazy circles slowly. The touch was slow, deliberate, and it sent a jolt of desire straight through me. I couldn't focus on the road, not with his hand so close, so dangerously close. I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

I felt Nicholas's gaze on me the moment I shifted in my seat, and I could feel his eyes tracing my every movement, the weight of his attention making my skin tingle. “How far are we from your house?” He asked, breaking the silence with a voice full of intrigue, as his hand inched ever so slightly upward, lightly squeezing my thigh.

I turned my head to look at him briefly before focusing back on the road. "10 minutes," I replied, too busy focusing on keeping my tone casual to notice the mischief in his voice.

Nicholas leaned closer, his hand moving inward and curling into the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Instinctively, I covered his hand with mine, gripping at his fingers. 

He chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and his hand didn't move away. Instead, he gently pressed his fingers against the warm curve of my thigh, sending a ripple of heat through me. His thumb brushed against my pants, slow and teasing, making it almost impossible to concentrate on the road. He didn't say anything right away, just let the silence settle, allowing the heat from his touch to fill the space.

My pulse quickened, and I found myself fighting the urge to pull him closer, to give in to the pull between us. But Nicholas was persistent. With my hand still hovering over his, he led his hand further in, his fingers trailing over the seam of my crotch. I dug my fingers into his, sharply inhaling.

“Am I distracting you?” He finally cooed.

I couldn’t answer right away. The words were lodged in my throat, lost somewhere between desire and restraint. The warmth of his touch seemed to burn through my clothes, and the teasing, slow pace of his movements only heightened the ache building inside me. My grip tightened around his fingers as I fought to steady my breath.

“Am I?” he pressed, his voice so low and soft, it was almost a whisper.

His fingers were still there, hovering so close to where I wanted them, but not quite touching exactly where I needed them. His hand shifted slightly, fingers pressing ever so gently into the warmth of my inner thigh, teasingly slow. I couldn't help the soft shudder that ran through me as the pressure built, each touch of his fingertips sending ripples of anticipation through my body. My breath came in shallow bursts, my pulse racing under the weight of his touch. I could feel the heat radiating from him, feel the weight of his gaze on me, daring me to answer, daring me to make the next move.

Not wanting to let him forget the fact we were on the way home to meet my family with just a few minutes left in the drive, I shook my head no.

Nicholas's lips curved into a smile, “No?” He unbuckled himself from his seat, turning his body toward me. As one hand braced the back of my neck, the other inching its way toward the zipper of my pants, slowly undoing it.

His fingers grazed the edge of my pants, and a breath caught in my throat. "Nic..." I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of the engine.

He didn't reply right away. Instead, he simply undid the button and slipped his hand under my jeans. I bit back a moan, jerking the wheel slightly. Nicholas glanced up at the road, chuckling, leaning toward me and letting his lips hover over my ear, “You should pull over,” he murmured, his voice husky.

I swallowed, trying to calm my racing pulse. "I can't," I whispered, my voice trembling with both desire and restraint.

Nicholas's hand was still between my legs, his fingers teasing and gently caressing, slowly but deliberately. I could feel the heat building in my core with every passing second, the line between what I wanted and what I could control blurring.

The warmth of his touch, the pressure of his fingers pressing gently against me, made every ounce of rational thought evaporate. I didn't know how much longer I could hold on. His thumb brushed against me again, and I let out a breathless gasp, my grip on the wheel faltering for a second. His hand didn't stop, his fingers moving with purpose, and I found myself gripping his wrist, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. He continued, though, his lips curling into a satisfied smile against my neck as he kissed the soft skin there.

"Do you want me to stop?" His voice was low, teasing, but there was something deeper in it now, a hunger that mirrored my own.

I didn't trust myself to speak, my mind spinning with conflicting desires. I shook my head again, unable to hold back the desperate need flooding my senses.

"Then you know what to do," he murmured, his lips brushing over my jawline before he kissed me again, this time deeper, more demanding.

My heart hammered in my chest as I reached for the blinker and slowly turned into somebody’s long dirt driveway. As we drove down the narrow, unlit dirt road, the car's headlights illuminated the trees on either side, casting long shadows across the path. My pulse raced, the anticipation of what was about to happen coursing through my veins. Nicholas's fingers never left their place, moving ever so slowly, deliberately, driving me insane with every touch.

I pulled the car to a stop about halfway through the driveway, not wanting to invade the person’s property too much. The engine hummed softly as I shifted into park, but the moment I turned the key, it felt as though the entire world had stopped with us.

Before I could even turn toward him, he was already reaching for me, his hand slipping into my hair, tugging me toward him. His kiss was urgent now, more forceful, as if we both needed to make up for lost time. My heart hammered in my chest, my hands immediately going to his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

His hand slid from my neck to my shoulder, gently pushing me back into the seat as he leaned over me, his body pressing against mine. The weight of his presence, the feeling of him so close, made my skin burn with need. My hands roamed to his chest, tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate for more contact, more of him.

But just as his hand grazed the waistband of my jeans again, preparing to slip further down, the sound of an approaching car in the distance broke through the haze of our moment. Its headlights shone through my car windows, as it turned into the driveway, slowly making its way down. I froze, pulling away from him, my heart skipping a beat as I glanced quickly out the windshield. When the approaching car honked its horn, we realized we were blocking its path.

Nicholas let out a frustrated sigh, his body stiffening. He didn't pull away completely but rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed in silent frustration. We were both breathing heavily, our faces flushed from the heat of our kiss. He stifled a chuckle, brushing my hair with his hand, “Not our time, I guess.”

The sudden interruption felt like cold water on a heated moment. The car's headlights grew brighter, its engine revving slightly as it came closer. The car honked again, impatient now. Nicholas let out a low chuckle, his lips brushing over mine one more time before pulling back completely. He watched me with a playful grin as I maneuvered the car, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over the back of my hand. He was teasing, his eyes twinkling with the kind of mischief that made me want to forget about everything — to simply lose myself in him. God, it was a little scary how he could make me do anything he wanted, but I loved the thought.

As we exited the driveway and turned into the backroad, a different kind of nerves settled in my stomach — the kind I didn’t like. I had no idea how Nicholas would react to meeting my family, given how chaotic my home life was, especially lately. And I didn’t know if my family would like him, though I knew he could charm the pants off them.

The knot in my stomach grew larger the closer we got home. The town lights started to grow in numbers, a sign we were close to arriving at my house. I looked to Nicholas then.

He intertwined his fingers with mine and brought our hands up to his lips for him to kiss.

With a deep breath, I nodded and continued driving, turning into my neighborhood. As we pulled up to the house, the lights inside were visible through the windows, casting a soft glow that made the house look even more inviting. I parked the car and turned off the engine, sitting still for a moment. My gaze shifted toward the house, where I could see the faint silhouettes of my family moving around inside.

In a way, I wanted my family to meet him, so they could see that I was happy and that I hit the jackpot meeting the most kind and loving man I could’ve ever hoped for. And I wanted my mom to see for herself that I was doing fine without all her interjecting and opinions about the way I was choosing to live my life. But I also so desperately wanted to maneuver the car out of the neighborhood and drive away with Nicholas. My mom would tear him apart — not to his face, she cares too much about people’s impressions about her to do that. But I knew that once he was out of earshot and I made myself available that she would pull me aside and begin making snide comments about his character or his life.

Nicholas sat quietly beside me for a moment, his hand still holding mine. Finally, he broke the silence. “Hey, hey, hey,” he spoke quietly, shifting closer toward my side of the car and delicately caressing my cheek, “it’s gonna be ok. I’m not going anywhere, ok?” he smiled softly and kissed the back of my hand. “I’m here for you.”

I leaned into his touch, nodding my head and kissing the ball of his thumb before stepping out of the car, the cold seemingly dropping temperature the more I lingered outside the house. I watched Nicholas as he reached into the backseat for his duffel bag and closed the door behind him, slinging his luggage around his shoulder and rounding the car, reaching his hand out for me to grab. He had that confident grin again, as if he were about to take on the world, and all I had to do was walk through the door with him.

My heart raced as I looked into his eyes, trying to gather the courage to face what lay ahead. Nicholas’s calm confidence, the steady way he held me, made it feel like everything might be okay. His reassurance was all I needed, and it was the push that led me to the door and opened it with a quiet confidence, stepping inside with Nicholas right behind me. The moment the door clicked shut, the familiar, tense atmosphere hit me like a wall, but I pushed through it. Having Nicholas by my side was all I really needed to get through anything.

My mom, who was in the kitchen clanging pots around, quickly scampered toward the entrance, a huge smile on her face, though I knew it was a farce. “Welcome home!” she exclaimed, her voice slightly too high-pitched to sound natural. Her eyes darted to Nicholas, scanning him quickly as if she were appraising him like some antique at a flea market. “You must be Nicholas. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you in person.”

Nicholas extended his hand with that disarming, movie-star smile of his. “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. (Y/L/N). Thank you for letting me stay here, and with (Y/N) in her room.”

She playfully swatted her hand, “It’s the least I can do.  Plus, It’s not like we have a guest room anyway,” she raised her voice during the last few words, sure to have my brothers — who were lounging in the living room — overhear her comment.

My eldest brother's scoff from the couch was audible enough to cut through the tension. He didn't even bother turning around, just called out lazily, "It’s not my fault my ex-wi—“

My mom quickly whipped her head and shushed him, before turning her head back toward us and flashing us a saccharine smile. “Well, dinner’s almost ready, honey. Why don’t you go say hi to your brothers then show Nicholas to your room so he could settle in? I hope you like cordon bleu, Nicholas?”

Nicholas chuckled, entirely unruffled. "Cordon bleu sounds perfect.”

Before I could glance back at her to gauge her emotion, she had already turned and was bustling back into the kitchen. Nicholas moved to remove his blouson and proceeded to help me take off my coat, hanging both on the hooks near the entrance. As Nicholas wrapped his arm around my waist, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding, leaning into him slightly. He kissed the top of my head before subtly leading me by the small of my back, encouraging me to walk us further into the house.

As we moved into the living room, the sound of the TV playing some sports highlights filled the air. My older brothers were sprawled on the couch, but they both looked up as we walked in. The eldest was the first to stand, brushing the invisible crumbs off his shirt. His expression softened into a genuine smile as he approached us. My older brother, the middle child, stood up next, towering over Nicholas by just a few inches, a little more relaxed but equally warm. I watched as they all introduced themselves to each other, Nicholas laughing, as he shook his hand, his smile beaming. I could already tell they were going to get along, which, thankfully, is one less thing to worry about.

“You guys settle in. We’ll save all the smalltalk for dinner,” my eldest brother smiled.

I shot him a look that said ‘thank you’ before pulling Nicholas away to my bedroom, feeling a little lighter. My brothers’ warmth had softened some of the anxiety that had been gnawing at me all day. Nicholas seemed completely at ease, which made me feel even better. Though, I wasn’t sure how he’d hold up against my mom’s subtle interrogation at dinner.

I hesitantly pushed open my bedroom door and stepped inside, flipping on the light. I glanced over to Nicholas, anxious for a reaction to my pink paradise bedroom, but he walked in with a complete look of wonder and a twinkle in his eye.

“Did you change some stuff?” He asked, dropping his duffel bag at the foot of the bed and approaching my dresser, running his finger over the table runner adorning it.

I scoffed, impressed, “How’d you know?”

He smiled, reaching for a picture frame on the dresser, admiring it for a moment before setting it back down and stepping closer to me, resting his hands on my hips, “(Y/N), we’ve been FaceTiming and sending each other photos for the last 10 months. I know your bedroom like the back of my hand. Example, I know you got rid of the dolls on your desk, and switched out your curtains.

With a little smile, I rested my arms on his shoulders, running my fingers through his hair, “I just didn’t want my room to seem too childish. Your apartment is just… so grown up.”

Nicholas chuckled softly, his hands sliding down to rest on my lower back, pulling me a little closer as he backed up into the bed and let us softly fall onto it, landing with a little bounce, “Your room is you, and I love that about it. Don’t change a thing just because of me.”

I swatted his chest lightly, and he laughed again, his smile so genuine it melted away the lingering tension in my chest. Being with Nicholas always felt like a safe harbor in the chaos of my life. He had a way of grounding me, reminding me that everything could be okay, even if it wasn’t perfect.

“Fine,” I sighed, “I’ll put the Hello Kitty back tomorrow.”

Just as Nicholas was about to lean forward to kiss me, a knock sounded through the door. My mom’s voice floated through, saccharine-sweet, but with an edge I knew all too well. “Dinner’s ready!“

I sighed, “We just can’t catch a break, can we?” I asked, referring to tonight’s missed opportunity to truly welcome Nicholas.

Nicholas smiled, planting a quick kiss on my lips before lifting us up off the bed and reaching for the door knob.

We made our way to the dining room, where the table was set far more elaborate than usual — the fancy plates and silverware that only came out for holidays or, in this case, the arrival of a special guest, which was never, until today. My mom was bustling around, setting down the final dishes of the spread with the practiced flair of someone who wanted everything to appear effortless.

Just then, my dad walked through the front door. He smiled over to Nicholas and I, enveloping me in the warmest hug, even though he had just walked in from the cold. “Hey, sweetie,” he smiled. His gaze fell on Nicholas and his face lit up. “This must be Nicholas! We’re excited to have you over,” he brought Nicholas in for a big hug.

It was so nice to see my dad give Nicholas the warm welcome my mom didn’t. Though he never really learned how to be as outward with his emotions like I had, my dad always knew when to choose the perfect moment to do so, like right now.

“Thank you, sir,” Nicholas said warmly, patting my dad’s back before pulling away. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“None of that ‘sir’ business,” my dad said, waving it off with a chuckle. “ And don’t be shy about seconds, we have plenty of food.”

My dad’s hearty laughter and easygoing demeanor were a stark contrast to my mom’s tightly wound facade. While she always seemed preoccupied with appearances and the opinions of others, my dad was grounded, warm, and genuine. He always tried to make people feel at ease around him.

“Trust me, I won’t be shy at all,” Nicholas softly chuckled, “I have to keep up my macros.”

Everyone circled around the table, choosing their seats. My mom sat at the head with my father on the opposite end, Nicholas and I sat on one side with me sitting closest to my mom, and my brothers on the opposite side. Nicholas, ever the gentleman, pulled out my chair for me and waited to sit down until I had settled in. I glanced over to my mom, who was eyeing us, studying us. He, however, didn’t notice, continuing to converse with my dad.

“How much do you weigh? 200?” My dad asked him, already serving himself a hearty portion of sides.

Nicholas nodded his head, “Yeah, 205. Do you lift?”

That’s when my dad flashed the biggest smile. By then, Nicholas, my dad, and my older brother had all started passionately talking about their gym routines — what protein powders and amino acid supplements they take, and what their current bench press is at. Their little huddle of gym talk left me, my mom, and my eldest brother to converse about anything but. We weren’t into that sort of thing.

All the while, everybody was serving themselves the hopefully delicious dinner my mom had prepared, as she had never cooked cordon bleu before until tonight. In fact, she hadn’t cooked any of this before, not the apple fritters, not the pasta salad, and certainly not the homemade tea. We were only ever a family of plain ol’ seasoned chicken and vegetables — steamed, grilled, in a soup, or in pasta. The homemade tea and the apple fritters were certainly new. A part of me wondered if under all the subtle criticism of Nicholas, maybe my mom had also simultaneously wanted to impress him.

I leaned over to Nicholas and opened my mouth to ask him if I could fix him a plate, but he interrupted me, his voice low and warm as he leaned in. “What do you want from the spread? I’ll fix you a plate,” he spoke quietly, squeezing my knee.

The gesture was so casual yet intimate that it sent a rush of warmth through me. I smirked at him, “I was gonna fix you one.”

Nicholas tilted his head, his smile playful yet tender. “How about I take care of you first, deal?” He asked quietly, brushing his hand over my knee and lightly squeezing it.

I rolled my eyes with a smile, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Fine. But don’t skimp on the pasta salad, okay?”

He chuckled, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “Got it.”

As he reached for the serving dishes, my mom’s gaze flickered to us, her expression carefully neutral. I could tell she was observing every detail — how Nicholas moved, how he spoke, how we interacted. She hadn’t said much since we sat down, but I knew her mind was racing. Nicholas, completely unbothered, assembled a plate for me with meticulous care. He even placed the apple fritter on the side so it wouldn’t touch the other food.

When he set the plate in front of me, he added a quiet, “There you go, beautiful,” as if it were just the two of us in the room.

I heard one of my brothers cough to hide a laugh, and the other smirked into his drink. Though, that was to be expected. They had never seen me bring anybody home before. Growing up, I had always been the spectator when it came to relationships. My brothers were seasoned pros at bringing girlfriends home, confidently showcasing their charm while I watched from the sidelines. One had his parade of high school sweethearts, always introducing them to the family with ease, before settling down with his now ex-wife. The other, though quieter, had his fair share of relationships too, and ended up moving to the city with his current girlfriend. And, of course, my entire life I had been a spectator to my parents’ relationship. 

It was something I had grown used to — watching my family be romantic with their significant others, sharing soft touches and stolen glances with the girls they brought into our lives, secretly pining for the moment that I may bring someone home for them to meet, too. But me? I had never been in their shoes. Never had anyone to bring home, let alone someone like Nicholas. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested in love — it just never happened for me. Whether it was shyness, pickiness, or just bad timing, I’d never had a real boyfriend before him. And while I knew my brothers weren’t entirely comfortable seeing this new side of me, there was a small part of me that relished it.

My mom, on the other hand, didn’t seem as amused as they did, keeping her grins polite while she tightly chewed on her food. Finally, she cleared her throat, her tone light but pointed. "So, Nicholas," she began, "(Y/N) tells us you’re an actor.”

My older brother interjected excitedly, “Is it true you’re in the new American Psycho movie?”

Nicholas grinned at his enthusiasm, his charm on full display as he nodded. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“Patrick Bateman?” My dad questioned, smiling. Nicholas nodded his head as he took a bite of his food. “Is playing the character tough?” My dad asked, wanting to know more. It was his first time meeting an actor of any kind.

Nicholas sighed, letting himself be vulnerable for a moment, “Yeah, it is. I tend to be an obsessive person, so I dedicate myself completely to every role I play; I completely immerse myself into the mindset of the character, and sometimes it can get to me.”

I watched Nicholas with absolute heart eyes as he spoke so candidly with my brothers and dad, his hand leaving my thigh occasionally whenever he began to talk passionately, using both his hands to really drive his point. They  were listening so intently, almost mesmerized. I realized then that I wished my mom gave Nicholas the same chance my dad and brothers did.

I glanced over to her as Nicholas spoke, watching her actively fight the urge to be as engaging in conversation as the rest of the family were. She was always like this — never truly engaged with anybody new she met, as if she was just a step above them to truly listen to whatever they had to say. Her behavior wasn’t new. I had watched her do this with every friend I brought home. She’d be polite — cordial even — but there was always this air of detachment, like she was humoring them instead of genuinely welcoming them. Once the door closed behind them, the comments would start.

“You shouldn’t trust her, you know,” she would say, cutting into my excitement after a fun hangout. “Girls like that always have ulterior motives.” Or, “She seems nice, but I get the feeling she talks about you behind your back.”

Over time, those remarks wore on me. I had stopped bringing friends home altogether by the time I hit high school. It wasn’t worth the scrutiny or the inevitable debrief where my mom dissected every perceived flaw in my friends, subtly planting doubts in my mind until I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hang out with them anymore. And the worst part was that sometimes, my mom ended up being right.

“(Y/N)’s been keeping the details of your relationship secret; For what? I don’t know, so forgive me for asking so many questions, but how did you two meet?” My mom asked, slicing a piece of chicken.

The food caught in both our throats at the question. Our meeting wasn’t exactly PG. I reached under the table to rest my hand on his knee, feeling  my face flush as I glanced over to Nicholas, who took the fabric napkin up to his mouth to brush away the nonexistent crumbs, giving himself some time to compose himself before responding, clearing his throat

 “Well, actually, we met at the beach,” he said smoothly, keeping things vague but not dishonest. I let out a small sigh of relief. He was so good at handling situations like this, keeping things light without giving away too much. Thank you, PR training.

 His words hung in the air for a moment, and I could feel my mom’s eyes on us, her scrutiny never wavering. She wasn’t satisfied yet. “Here?” She asked, stifling a chuckle. “Wait,” her eyes landed on me, “did you meet him when you booked that room at the beach by yourself that one weekend?”

I reached for my glass of tea and gulped, hoping it might soothe the blood rushing to my cheeks, “Um, yeah,” I answered curtly. “Yeah, we met that weekend.” Memories of that weekend started to replay in my head, the heat starting to pool low in my belly at the memory of Nicholas and I getting to know each other carnally.

“What was a famous actor doing at the island here of all places?” My dad asked, amused at the thought.

Nicholas, however, remained unfazed. He leaned back in his chair, his calm demeanor never faltering. “Well, I live in Los Angeles, so I’m at the beach there all the time,” he replied smoothly, shooting me a reassuring glance. “I guess I just wanted to get to know a new beach on the opposite coast and booked a flight here, and well… the rest is history.”

His words felt like a shield, soft but strong, deflecting my mom’s questions without making it seem like he was hiding anything. I couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he handled it. He was a natural at navigating tense moments, and I felt a weight lift off my chest.

But my mom wasn’t quite done. “So, just the two of you at the beach? No one else?” she asked, almost too casually, like she was trying to catch him in a lie.

I glanced at Nicholas, my stomach doing a little flip. My mom’s persistence was unsettling, but I knew Nicholas could handle it. He was calm, composed, like he’d been in situations like this before. He smiled, giving my mom a look that was both warm and measured.

“Well, if you don’t count the other guests at the hotel, sure,” he said, nodding slowly. “I guess it was fate.”

I could feel my mom’s eyes narrowing slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line as she studied him, but she didn’t push further. Her gaze flickered to me for a second, and I braced myself for the inevitable, the comments that would follow once this dinner was over.

My eldest brother, sensing the tension, leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Sounds like it was a fun weekend,” he teased, earning a chuckle from our brother and Dad. The change in atmosphere was almost palpable, the air lightening a little as the conversation shifted.

I cleared my throat and buried my mouth in a napkin, hoping to hide the look of embarrassment but eventually stifling a laugh. I was grateful for my brothers’ habit of joking about everything, no matter the situation. Nicholas shot them a grateful look, his smile never faltering as he continued to engage in the conversation with them. I felt a small tug of guilt for the way my mom was acting, but I knew there was nothing more I could do to change her attitude.

Dinner continued, with my mom carefully watching the exchange, but she had settled into a more neutral silence, only offering the occasional remark when necessary. The more Nicholas interacted with my dad and brothers, the more comfortable I grew. He was so good at keeping everything light, charming everyone around him, even pulling the rare chuckle from my mom. I could feel my heart swell with affection for him in those moments, despite everything. He wasn’t fazed by my mom’s coldness, nor did he seem discouraged by her questions. He was exactly who he said he was, and I couldn’t have been prouder.

When dinner finally ended, my mom offered a strained, “Thank you for coming, Nicholas,” but it was clear that the evening hadn’t gone exactly as she’d hoped. The forced politeness in her voice was unmistakable. I didn’t know what she expected from this dinner, but I could guess it wasn’t what had transpired.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. (Y/L/N),” Nicholas said smoothly, standing and shaking her hand. “And again, thank you for letting me stay here for a few days. Here, let me help you clear the table.”

My mom’s eyes flickered with surprise at the offer. “Oh, no need—”

But Nicholas was already standing, brushing past her with a confident smile. “It’s no trouble at all. I insist,” he said, his voice warm, and before I could protest, he was gathering plates from the table with a casual ease that made it clear this wasn’t the first time he’d done this. He moved with such a kind, unassuming confidence, not letting the awkwardness of my mom’s tension affect him.

As he began to clear the table, I followed him with my gaze, feeling a swell of admiration for him. He didn’t just talk the talk — he walked the walk. Even when my mom was at her most guarded, Nicholas was calm, generous, and helpful.

He moved around the kitchen with an easy confidence, as though he was a regular part of this family. I could feel my chest tighten with an unexpected sense of relief that this dinner definitely could've gone left quickly, and it miraculously didn’t. This was everything I’d hoped for: bringing him home, seeing him interact with my family, and watching him blend seamlessly into my world.

After a few moments, I joined my brothers and dad in the living room, collapsing onto the couch beside them. My eldest brother glanced over to me, giving me a little side-eye. “So, Nicholas, huh? He’s… cool, man,” he said, his tone a mix of sincerity and teasing.

I sighed, leaning back, trying to relax. “Yeah, he is.“ I looked over to our dad, “Dad, what did you think when mom told you she had offered the house to Nicholas?”

My dad paused, looking over at me with a thoughtful expression before his lips curled into a knowing grin. “Honestly? I thought it was a bit sudden, but if he’s a good guy, then that’s all that matters to me.” He shrugged, settling back into the couch. “I trust you to make the right call, sweetie. You’ve never been one to do something without feeling ready for it. And from what I saw tonight, he’s got his head on straight. You did good,” he smiled, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, letting me rest my head on him.

I smiled softly at my dad’s words, my heart swelling with appreciation for his support. My dad wasn’t good with vocalizing his emotions most of the time, but when he did… man, it was monumental. It was moments like these that I cherished the most — when he didn’t just offer a general statement but spoke with such certainty in my choices. His words held weight, the kind I always wished my mom would say.

My dad always knew how to make me feel seen, understood, and accepted — whether it was a quiet compliment or just a simple, knowing nod when my mom would have the complete opposite reaction. Her love was always wrapped in layers of criticism and expectation. She never seemed to be satisfied with the person I was. I knew she cared, but it often felt conditional, like there was always something more I needed to be, something else I needed to achieve to earn her approval.

I nodded slowly, grateful for the simple, grounding truth in his words. “Thanks, Dad. I needed to hear that.”

When Nicholas finally came into the living room, his movements fluid and easy, he gave me a smile. “All done in there,” he said, his voice soft and easy. He didn’t try to make a big deal out of it, but I could tell he felt good about having helped.

“Kitchen’s clean,” my mom entered the space, slinging a dish towel over her shoulder and plopping herself down into the loveseat, “Everybody’s free to do whatever now.”

My brothers excitedly stood up from the couch, shoving each other over furniture as they made their way to their rooms, shouting something about controllers. My dad stood up from the couch, “Good night, son.” He clapped Nicholas on the back, giving him a friendly nod before walking over to my mom. “Have a beer with me in the backyard?” He asked, reaching his hand out to her.

She sighed, her face growing into a reluctant smile as she took his hand in hers and stood up from the loveseat, “Goodnight, kids,” she softly smiled before following my dad out to the backyard.

Nicholas and I lingered for a moment, both of us standing in the middle of the living room. I slowly stepped toward him, resting my hands on his hips. “You…” I said, planting a slow kiss on his lips, “were amazing tonight.”

Nicholas grinned against my lips, his hands gently cupping my face as he deepened the kiss. “Like I said,” he murmured, pulling away just enough to look into my eyes. “We got this.”

After a quiet moment, we both turned toward my room. The house was quieter now, the only sounds coming from the distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint chatter of my parents outside, the occasional angry profanity from one of my brothers. 

I took his hand in mine, leading him, “Now that we got that out of the way… we can relax,” I sighed in relief.

As we entered my room, I closed the door behind us, the soft click of the latch filling the quiet space. I made sure to lock the door, ensuring our privacy, and turned on the air purifier I had by the door to drown out our voices.

The room felt warmer now, the tension from dinner dissipating in the calming intimacy of the moment. Nicholas took a few steps forward, stopping near the bed as he reached for his duffel bag, zipping it open and pulling out his toiletries and a clean pair of boxers. I watched as his arms flexed with every movement as he reached for his things, zipping up his bag and throwing it back down onto the floor.

I had caught his eye, flashing me a knowing smile as he stepped closer, resting my hands on my waist and pulling me flush against him. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze, a mixture of desire and affection. I felt my heart race as my fingertips grazed the fabric of his shirt, the heat from his body drawing me in.

“Is it our time now?” I asked quietly, leaning in to graze my lips over his.

He glanced over to the bedroom door, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, his hands moving down to grip my waist, “Your entire family’s still in the house,” he spoke, his voice low and husky.

Arching into his hold, I rested my hands on his chest, feeling his chest rise and fall under me. “Then we would just have to be very quiet now, wouldn’t we?” I asked teasingly, smiling into his lips before devouring him in a kiss.

Nicholas responded immediately, his hands sliding up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me closer, as if he couldn't get enough of the feeling of my lips on his. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if the weight of everything that had happened tonight was coming to a head in this one perfect moment. His lips moved against mine, warm and eager, but still tender, as though savoring every second of this quiet intimacy.

I let out a soft sigh, pressing closer into him, feeling the heat of his body against mine. He pulled away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against mine. "I’m serious, your family’s on the other side of that wall right there. You don’t care?" he murmured, his voice raspy with desire.

I smiled softly, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble against my skin. "Do you?" I teased, my voice a breathless whisper.

He was quiet for a beat, panting heavily, “A little.”

I pulled him into another quick kiss, pulling away to pout, “I’ll just have to play with myself then.”

Nicholas's eyes darkened with a mix of surprise and desire, his breath catching at my words. His hands tightened on my waist, pulling me even closer as if he was trying to make sure there was no space left between us. "You know I can’t let that happen," he murmured, his voice rough and urgent.

He leaned in again to kiss me, but I had the inspired idea of denying Nicholas my body, turning my cheek to him and releasing myself from his hold, slowly making my way to my bed and crawling toward the pillows, slowly turning around to lie down on my back.

He stood still for a moment, watching me with a mix of amusement and growing desire. His lips curved into a sly smile as he slowly stepped forward, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out to me, but I moved his hand away.

I smiled slyly, shifting into a comfortable position over the pillows, “Uh-uh, you didn’t want to play,” I whispered. “You’ll have to watch first.”

His mouth twitched into a smirk, and he slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the bed beside me, his gaze never leaving mine. The room seemed to pulse with the tension between us as he watched me intently. "Don’t tease," he murmured, his voice low and velvety, almost a warning.

I couldn't help but smile, my pulse quickening under his gaze. "You started it," I cooed, my fingers trailing down my body slowly, deliberately, as I maintained eye contact.

Slowly, I started to unbutton my blouse, taking my time. Nicholas's eyes followed my every movement, the intensity in his gaze growing with each slow, deliberate action. His breath hitched slightly, but he didn't say a word; he just watched, a mix of desire and anticipation clearly written on his face. His lips parted slightly, as if he were waiting for something to break, but I kept my pace steady, savoring the power I felt in this moment.

I glanced up at him once I'd unbuttoned the blouse halfway, catching the way his chest rose and fell, the muscles of his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. I smiled at the sight of his struggle, my fingers now sliding down to the waistband of my jeans. His breath was coming faster now, and I could tell he was about to reach for me. But I stopped him with a glance, shaking my head slowly. "Wait your turn," I whispered.

Nicholas clenched his fists, but his restraint only made me bolder. I finally pulled my blouse off, tossing it carelessly to the floor beside the bed. The cold air brushed my skin, perking my breasts awake. I watched his eyes darken with desire as I slowly ran my hands over my chest, feeling the warmth of the room and the growing heat between us.

He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. "Don’t punish me," he murmured, the words thick with frustration.

But I just smiled, enjoying every second of it. I slowly eased my pants down, tossing them aside and brushing my hand over my wet underwear, the other hand still kneading my breast. I let out a shaky breath, mindful to keep the noise down, as I touched myself. Nicholas shifted, his breathing now erratic, but he stayed seated on the edge of the bed. His body was tense, a mixture of yearning and restraint. He didn't reach for me, though his gaze never wavered.

My legs writhed up and down as I rubbed myself through my underwear, biting back quiet moans until I decided to spread my legs slowly as I pulled my underwear down, letting it wrap around my ankles. He clenched his jaw the moment he saw me completely bare in front of him, knitting his eyebrows together slightly and licking his lips. He let out a quiet growl as he watched me intently, his eyes tracing my fingers.

I guided my hand up to my mouth, gently sucking on my middle and ring fingers for a moment, wetting them mindfully and keeping eye contact with Nicholas all the while. I smiled up at him as I trailed my slickened fingers down my abdomen and had them land on my throbbing bud, slowly beginning to rub circles into myself.

"(Y/N)," he rasped, voice low and thick with desire, his eyes following my center.

I let out a small, satisfied laugh, inserting my fingers into my soaking hole, sharply inhaling at the sensation. I slowly started to pump my fingers, the quiet, rhythmic wet sound of my pleasure sending Nicholas into a quiet frenzy. A high-pitched moan escaped my lips, prompting me to stop squeezing my breast and instead move that hand up to my mouth to muffle my own moans.

The room seemed to grow hotter with each passing second, the air thick with anticipation. I could feel Nicholas's eyes on me, his gaze heavy and unwavering, filled with a mix of need and control. The weight of his attention was intoxicating, and I savored the dynamic between us, pushing myself to the edge of what I knew I could handle. The tension in me began to coil tighter and tighter the more I thrusted my fingers in and out, my breath hitching as I tried to stay quiet.

I started to writhe under my own hand, fluttering my eyes shut and breathing in heavy gasps. When I let my fingers traverse deeper, I opened my eyes to find Nicholas starting to reach out for me, his hand tracing the outline of my leg. The warmth of his hand against my skin sent a shiver through me, heightening the sensations that already had my body trembling, but I was dedicated to playing the game. I reached for his hand, guiding it to his throbbing member before pulling my hand away and continuing to push myself toward ecstasy.

As I picked up the pace of my fingers, I rolled over onto my stomach, spreading my thighs apart and lifting my hips into the air as I bucked my hips into my hand. “Fuck,” I whimpered into the pillow, breathing shakily.

The air in the room grew impossibly thick, the heat between us palpable as I let myself sink further into the sensation. My body trembled under the weight of my own touch, and I could feel Nicholas's eyes devouring me from where he sat. His restraint was unraveling; I could sense it in the way his breathing grew uneven, the way his fingers dug into the mattress as if trying to anchor himself. I glanced back over my shoulder, catching the wild hunger in his eyes as he watched my every movement. The tension in his jaw was evident, his body coiled as though ready to pounce, yet he remained rooted to the spot, his control hanging by a thread.

Every sound that escaped me seemed to pull him closer to the edge. I could feel the power I held in this moment, and it made my pulse race even faster. I slowed my movements deliberately, teasing myself as much as I was him, dragging out the moment until the ache inside me became unbearable.

l arched my back further, offering him an even more tantalizing view as my fingers continued their work. My body was alive with sensation, every nerve humming as I gave in to my own pleasure. The wet sounds of my fingers against my slick heat filled the room, mixing with the quiet gasps and muffled moans I tried to contain. Nicholas finally moved then, his resolve cracking as he reached out for me, his hand gripping the curve of my hip. His touch was firm but trembling, a testament to the war he was waging within himself. "You're driving me insane," he growled, his voice low and hoarse.

I smiled through my haze, turning my head just enough to meet his gaze. "That’s the point," I whispered breathlessly, my lips curving into a wicked grin.

He clenched his jaw again, his eyes narrowing as he pulled his hand away abruptly. The loss of his touch sent a shiver of anticipation through me, but before I could say anything, he shifted closer, hovering above my shoulder, his presence dominating the space around me.

He was so close now that I could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath hot against my skin as he leaned over me. "You wanna play?" he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper against my ear. "I can play, too."

Without another word, his hand replaced mine, his fingers delving into my wetness with a confidence and precision that made my whole body jolt. His other hand gripped my waist, holding me steady as he took control, the tension between us exploding into something raw and uncontrollable. A sharp cry escaped my lips before I could stop it, muffled quickly as I bit into the pillow. 

"Careful," he teased, his voice thick with desire. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear, now would we?"

I whimpered against the pillow, my body trembling as his fingers worked with relentless precision. The shift in control was dizzying, and I could feel my resolve melting away with each skilled movement of his hand. My breaths came in ragged gasps, the muffled sounds of my pleasure filling the small space around us.

Nicholas's lips brushed against the back of my neck, featherlight but enough to make my skin prickle with sensation. "You were so confident a minute ago," he murmured, his voice a dark, teasing rumble. "What happened?"

I tried to respond, but the words died in my throat as his thumb found my sensitive bud, circling it with deliberate, maddening slowness. A choked cry escaped me, and I pressed my face deeper into the pillow, desperate to muffle the sounds that threatened to betray me.

His low chuckle sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. "That's what I thought," he whispered, his fingers delving deeper, setting a rhythm that left me helpless against him.

I wasn’t sure what had gotten into Nicholas. He had never been so unapologetically in control. This was different. He was different. Patrick Bateman had indeed rubbed off on him, but not in the way I’d feared. Nicholas was channeling that sharp-edged confidence, the undercurrent of danger that made his portrayal of the character so magnetic. He wasn’t the blood-soaked psychopath, but he was the embodiment of control, of someone who knew exactly how much power they held and exactly how to use it.

And God, did I love it.

“Nic,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the low hum of the air purifier.

The name came out as both a plea and an acknowledgment — I saw what he was doing, and I wanted more. This new side of him, nurtured by the darker edge of his role, left me breathless. He wasn’t losing himself in that persona; he was borrowing some of it and using it to show me parts of himself he’d kept hidden before, or at least, never fully shown.

Every shift in his posture, every subtle tilt of his head, felt like part of a script he had written in his mind — a performance just for me. His role had shown him how seductive control could truly be. And he was applying that lesson now, each gesture crafted to keep me on edge.

“You thought you could tease me and get away with it?” he murmured, his tone darkly amused. 

The words sent a shiver through me, my skin prickling with anticipation. The mixture of his teasing words and skillful hands left me teetering on the edge, my body writhing beneath him as he took complete control.I arched my back further with a muffled whimper, unable to stop myself from pressing into his touch. His thumb pressed down against my sensitive bud, slow and deliberate. 

 He smiled against my neck, the curve of his lips unmistakable as he continued his torturous pace. He shifted closer, his chest now pressed against my back as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice softening for a moment. "I could watch you like this forever." The tenderness in his tone sent a shiver through me, cutting through the haze of desire with an ache that went deeper than physical. “Look at me,” he said softly.

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze as best I could, and the intensity in his eyes stole what little breath I had left. It was startling and irresistible. It was as if he was letting me see that beneath the playfulness and the quiet assertions, he was just as caught up in this as I was. The character he channeled was powerful and controlling, yes, but he’d never use that for anything but making this moment electric for both of us.

"Nic," I whispered, his name a plea on my lips.

He groaned softly, his movements faltering for just a second before he kissed the curve of my shoulder, his lips warm and lingering. "I've got you," he murmured against my skin, his voice a promise that sent my heart racing.

Nicholas's words resonated deep within me, grounding me in the moment as his hands continued their relentless, intoxicating rhythm. His presence was overwhelming, yet comforting — a perfect storm of passion and tenderness that had my body trembling with need. I couldn't hold back the quiet moans that escaped me, muffled as they were by the pillow beneath me. Every touch, every stroke, felt like it was pushing me closer to the edge, a precipice I both feared and craved. My hands gripped the sheets tightly, my knuckles white as I fought to keep my composure.

"Nicholas," I whimpered again, his name slipping from my lips like a prayer

 I turned my head just enough to catch another glimpse of him, his expression a mixture of concentration and raw desire. His jaw was tight, his brows drawn together in that way that made my heart clench. He was completely focused on me, his gaze flickering between my face and the movements of his hand. "You're perfect," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the haze of the moment. His free hand moved to my hip, steadying me as I writhed under his touch. "I could never get enough of you."

The vulnerability in his words, combined with the sheer intensity of his touch, pushed me closer to the breaking point. My breath hitched, my body arching into his hand as a wave of pleasure began to crest, threatening to consume me entirely.

"Please," I gasped, the words tumbling from my lips in a desperate plea. I didn't even know what I was asking for — more of him, less of him. I just needed something to tether me as the world spun out of control around me. His fingers stilled for a moment, and I almost cried out in frustration, but then he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear.

"Say it," he murmured, his voice a low, teasing growl that sent shivers down my spine. "Tell me what you need."

I turned my head to meet his gaze, my eyes heavy with desire and frustration. "You," I whispered, the word carrying all the weight of my longing.

Just then, the sound of footsteps passing down the hall broke through the haze, and both of us froze, the sudden intrusion grounding us in the reality of where we were. My pulse thundered in my ears as we waited, breathless. The tension in the room was electrifying as we held perfectly still, our breaths synchronized and shallow, ears straining for the faintest sound from the hallway.

Nicholas’s fingers slowed but continued their calculated movements. My body trembled under his touch, every nerve on edge, the thrill of being caught mingling with the raw intensity of the moment. I bit down on the pillow again, stifling the soft moans that escaped my lips as his fingers continued pumping inside me. There was a devilish smile across his face as he shushed me, his ears still perked toward the door. I caught a hint of amusement on his lips.

Underneath the surface, I recognized him — the Nicholas who was kind and thoughtful, who adored me. But now that adoration had grown claws, a sensual confidence that skimmed the line between teasing and challenging me. This was a Nicholas who wanted me to squirm under his careful attention, who wanted to see just how far I’d let him push before I begged him to go further.

The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, the footsteps resumed, retreating back down the hallway and fading into the distance. My body sagged with relief, but Nicholas wasted no time, his fingers resuming their maddening rhythm almost immediately.

"You like the risk, don't you?" he teased, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. His voice was low and gravelly, a dangerous edge to his words that made my skin prickle with anticipation. "You want them to hear, just a little."

I shook my head, my muffled protest lost against the pillow. But the truth was written all over my body — the way I pushed back against his hand, the way my breaths came faster, louder, despite my efforts to remain quiet.

"You can't lie to me," he murmured, his voice darkly amused. "Your body tells me everything."

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I felt my control slipping away entirely. The tension inside me coiled tighter, every nerve in my body alight with sensation. I was so close, teetering on the edge, and Nicholas knew it. His fingers moved faster now, his movements precise and relentless as he drove me closer and closer to the breaking point. I reached my hand behind me, clutching at his hair and pushing his head closer against me.

“You were so bold before, so sure of yourself, hmm? I want to hear you beg,” he said, his voice soft but commanding.

My breath hitched, my mind scrambling for words, but all that escaped was a shaky whimper. He chuckled, the sound low and wicked, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.

“Come on. Use your words,” he teased, his fingers resuming their maddening rhythm.

“Nic—” I gasped, his name spilling from my lips. “Please.”

“Please, what?” he asked, his tone infuriatingly calm, as if we weren’t teetering on the edge of something electric and uncontrollable. His other hand gripped my hip, steadying me as I writhed beneath him. “Say it. I want to hear exactly what you need.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body trembling as his fingers pushed me closer to the precipice. “I need you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I need you, Nic. Please.”

He hummed, as though considering my words, his fingers never faltering. “Better,” he said, his voice like molten honey. “But not quite good enough.”

He pulled his hand away suddenly, leaving me gasping and trembling, my body aching with need. I turned my head to look at him, my eyes wide with disbelief and frustration. His expression was infuriatingly smug, a crooked smile playing at his lips as he sat back, his gaze roaming over me like he was savoring the sight of my unraveling.

“You wanted to play games earlier, didn’t you?“ he said, his voice a low purr.

I let out a soft, frustrated sound, my hands gripping the sheets as I tried to regain some semblance of control. But Nicholas wasn’t having it. He leaned down, his breath hot against my skin as he pressed a featherlight kiss to my shoulder, then the nape of my neck, then the space just below my ear. His hand moved again, skimming down my side, his touch light enough to send shivers through me. My body arched instinctively, desperate for more, but he took his time, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow patterns over my skin.

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off you tonight?” he asked, his tone conversational, as if he weren’t driving me to the brink of madness. “Sitting next to you at the table with your family, watching you look so damn perfect, knowing I’d get to do this.”

He punctuated the last word by sliding his hand between my thighs, his touch deliberate and unrelenting. I let out a muffled cry, biting down on the pillow to stifle the sound. He smiled at my reaction, his eyes darkening with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm.

The words sent a thrill through me, my body responding to the possessiveness in his tone. I didn’t care that we were playing a dangerous game, that my family was just down the hall. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made me feel — completely claimed, completely consumed.

Nicholas leaned down, capturing my lips in a kiss that was both tender and searing, a promise of everything he intended to do to me. As his fingers resumed their relentless rhythm, I gave in to him entirely, letting him pull me under, letting him show me just how far he was willing to go to prove his dominance.

And as the tension inside me coiled tighter and tighter, I realized something: this new Nicholas, this teasing, commanding, utterly intoxicating version of him, was exactly what I’d been waiting for.

"Let go," he urged, his voice soft yet insistent.

The words were my undoing. With a sharp cry muffled against the pillow, the tension inside me snapped, and I was lost to the waves of pleasure that crashed over me. My body trembled violently under his touch, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as l clung to the sheets for dear life. Nicholas's movements slowed, his touch gentle now as he guided me through the aftershocks. His free hand moved to my back, his touch soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder.

"That's my girl," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of pride and tenderness.

I lay there, trembling and breathless, as the intensity of the moment began to subside. Nicholas didn't move away; instead, he stayed close, his hand tracing soothing circles over my back as his lips brushed against my shoulder. His presence was grounding, yet I could feel the lingering heat between us, the tension far from gone.

I rolled onto my side to face him, my fingers reaching out to trace the sharp line of his jaw. His expression softened as he looked at me, his gaze still dark with desire but tempered by something deeper — something achingly tender. I let my hand wander down his chest, the muscles beneath his shirt taut and warm under my touch.

"You," I murmured, my voice a little breathless. "I want you to feel as good as I do."

A small smile tugged at his lips, but he shook his head, his hand capturing mine and holding it gently. "Tonight was about you," he said softly, his voice steady despite the lingering rasp of arousal. "You seemed a little on edge since we got home; I just wanted to take care of you."

“But I—“ I started to protest, but he silenced me with a quick kiss, his lips firm but gentle, cutting off my words as his other hand came up to cradle the side of my face.

"You don't have to," he whispered against my lips, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Seeing you, hearing you, knowing I could make you feel that way. That's enough for me."

His words left me speechless, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me like a warm embrace. I could still feel the evidence of his restraint, the tension in his body as he held himself back, but his focus remained entirely on me. It wasn't just about control — it was about care, about putting me first in a way that made my heart ache with gratitude.

“But you’re visiting me this time,” I pouted, resting my hands over his chest, “I should be the one making you feel this way.”

Nicholas smiled softly, his hand covering mine as it rested against his chest. The heat of his skin radiated through his shirt, steady and grounding.

I moved my hand to cup his face, my thumb brushing over the apple of his cheek, “You give so much of yourself — to me, to your work. You deserve to let yourself receive, too.”

Nicholas closed his eyes briefly, his jaw tightening as if my words had struck a chord. When he opened them again, there was a softness in his gaze that made my chest ache. His hand covered mine, pressing it gently against his cheek. "I know," he murmured, his voice low and steady. His voice was barely audible when he spoke, a rasp that hinted at the emotions simmering beneath his carefully maintained facade. “It’s… hard to turn it off sometimes,” he admitted, his forehead still resting against mine.

I leaned closer, letting my forehead rest against his, my voice barely above a whisper. "Let me take some of that stress away.” My fingers traced the edge of his jaw, the sharp line softening as his expression wavered.

Nicholas’s lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping as he held my gaze. His hand came up to cover mine, still pressed to his cheek, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. His gaze darkened slightly, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. He shifted closer, his hand trailing from mine to cup the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss that was slow, tender, and all-encompassing. His lips moved against mine with a deliberate gentleness, as if savoring the moment, as if thanking me for the sentiment without needing to say a word. He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw working as though he was debating with himself.

It wasn’t that Nicholas wasn’t used to being vulnerable with me — he always was, since we first met. But after months of embodying a character like Patrick, a role that demanded emotional detachment and absolute control, letting go had become something almost foreign to him. He had coiled himself tightly, and I had to work to undo that tightness again.

When Nicholas opened his eyes again, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, but also trust. “Ok,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But only because it’s you.”

I smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently, pouring everything I felt into the soft press of my lips against his. “Always me,” I murmured, letting my words linger in the air as I began to slowly pull him down on top of me.

Nicholas allowed himself to be guided, his body hesitating only briefly before yielding to the pull of my hands. His weight settled against me, warm and grounding, and I could feel the tension still coiled tightly in his muscles. His breathing was uneven, his forehead resting against mine as though he was bracing himself for something he couldn't quite define.

I ran my fingers through his hair, my touch slow and deliberate, trying to ease some of the strain I could feel radiating from him. He tried to hide it as best he could, but filming had taken a toll on him. He had poured himself completely into the role. I could only imagine how tough it must be to have yourself become emotionally detached for your work. Then, to go home to holiday parties and then visit your girlfriend’s family for the first time. It must’ve been stressful for him, even though he tried so hard to make it seem like nothing about him had changed.

His eyes fluttered shut, the vulnerability in that small movement breaking my heart. I threaded my fingers down the nape of his neck, tracing the tension there. His jaw tightened for a moment, but then he nodded, the tension in his shoulders softening just slightly. I leaned up to kiss him again, slow and tender, pouring every ounce of reassurance I could into the press of my lips against his. My hands moved down his body, tracing the lines of his chest and stomach, feeling the tension start to unravel beneath my touch.

Nicholas let out a shaky exhale, his hands finding their way to my waist, holding on as though I was his anchor. I pressed my lips to his jaw, trailing soft kisses down his neck and over his collarbone as my hands worked to remove his hoodie. As each layer of fabric fell away, I kissed the newly exposed skin, savoring the way his breathing deepened, the way his hands began to relax their grip. When the sweater underneath was finally discarded, I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.

"Feel that?" I murmured, meeting his gaze. "You're still here."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his hands sliding up to cradle my face. "God, I’ve missed you so fucking much," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "I’m so in love with you," I said simply. "Every part of you, inside and out.”

That seemed to break something in him, and he kissed me again, this time with a raw, unguarded intensity that left me breathless. His hands roamed my body, but there was no urgency, no need to control or give, only a quiet acceptance as he let himself feel.

I rolled us over in bed, straddling Nicholas as he lay under me. I kissed him deeply, pouring every ounce of my love and understanding into the soft press of my lips. His hands, though trembling slightly, rested on my hips, but he didn't try to guide or take control. He was letting himself simply be — letting me take the lead, and it warmed my heart to know he trusted me that much.

I let my hands trail down his chest, fingers grazing the taut muscles of his stomach. His skin was warm under my touch, and I could feel the tension slowly ebbing from his body as I took my time exploring every inch of him. I leaned down, pressing soft kisses to his chest, my lips lingering over his heartbeat. I smiled against his skin, my hands sliding lower until I reached the waistband of his jeans. I glanced up at him for permission, and he gave me a small nod, his lips parting as his breathing quickened. Slowly, I undid the button and zipper, my movements deliberate and unhurried. I wanted him to feel every moment, to know this was for him and him alone.

As I eased his jeans down, I pressed kisses to the newly exposed skin, savoring the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under my touch. When he was finally bare before me, I let my gaze linger on him, taking in every detail. He was beautiful, vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache with love and admiration. God, I missed him so much.

"You're perfect," I whispered, my eyes meeting his. The raw emotion in his gaze made my chest tighten, but I didn't let it distract me from my goal — to bring him peace, even if just for tonight, even though he still had to step back into character again right after this trip.

I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his hip before trailing my lips lower. Nicholas's breath hitched, his hands gripping the sheets, but he didn't try to stop me. He let out a low, shuddering moan as I took him into my mouth, my lips and tongue explored him. I kept my movements slow and deliberate, designed to drive away every lingering trace of stress and tension.

He covered his mouth with his inner elbow, mindful of where we were. His sounds of pleasure were quiet, restrained, but I could feel the way his body responded to every touch, every kiss. He was letting go, piece by piece, and it filled me with a sense of purpose I couldn't put into words.

I let my lips and hands work in tandem, slowly unraveling every knot of tension that Nicholas had been carrying. His breathing grew heavier, his quiet groans muffled as he pressed his arm to his mouth. I watched him struggle to keep himself restrained, to stay mindful of the thin walls separating us from my family, but I didn't want him to hold back — not with me.

"Let it out, Nic," I whispered against his skin, my voice soft but commanding. "No one else matters right now.”

His arm fell away, reaching for the pillow under his head and burying himself under it as a deep, desperate sound escaped him. It wasn't just a moan — it was a release, raw and unfiltered, as though he'd been holding it in for far too long. His head fell back against the mattress, his eyes fluttering shut as his body surrendered completely to my touch.

"(Y/N)," he rasped, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "I-I can't..." His hands gripped the sheets tightly, his knuckles white as he tried to ground himself. He pulled the pillow away slightly, "You're gonna ruin me," he groaned quietly, his tone a mix of exasperation and awe.

I smiled softly, trailing my lips back up his body. "Good," I whispered against his skin.

His hands moved instinctively to my hips as I straddled him, his touch trembling but firm. He looked up at me with wide, glassy eyes, his vulnerability laid bare in a way that made my chest tighten. He wasn't just undone — he was mine, and he was letting himself be seen in a way that few ever had.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered as I grabbed him by the base of his shaft and lowered myself on top of him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips parted as he panted softly beneath me. "Do you know how much I love you? How much you mean to me?"

He nodded his head, his hands gripping my thighs as he entered me. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he choked out, his voice rough.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, leaning down to press my forehead against his, slowly starting to ride him "You'll never have to find out," I whispered. "I’m here."

Nicholas's hands trembled against my skin, his voice breaking as he whispered, "I need you. So much."

As I moved against him, his control unraveled further, his voice rising as he called out my name in a broken, desperate tone that sent a shiver down my spine. I guided him through every wave of pleasure, my hands and body coaxing him toward release as he gave himself over entirely to the moment.

When his body tensed under me, he buried his face into the pillow again, letting out a muffled groan as he clutched at the pillow like it was a lifesaver. I felt the evidence of his climax fill me completely, continuing to slowly ride him out as he came, his hands digging into my hips as his body violently shuddered under me. 

He laid beneath me, utterly spent and trembling. I dismounted him, lying beside him and pulling the blankets over us, curling up against his side as he buried his face in my hair. His arms wrapped around me tightly, his breathing uneven as he struggled to come back to himself.

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes closed.

I brushed my fingers through his damp hair, letting the strands slip softly between my fingertips. His body was still trembling slightly as he held me close, his breath warm against my temple. “I know sometimes all I do is take,” I murmured, my voice soft and filled with affection, “but you’ve taught me it feels just as good to give.”

Nicholas pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his arms tightening around me as though he couldn’t bear to let me go. For a moment, we lay in comfortable silence, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of us. His chest rose and fell beneath me, steadying as the aftershocks of the moment began to subside. As we lay there, tangled together under the blankets, I felt a profound sense of peace settle over me, letting our breaths lull me to sleep.

I awoke in Nicholas’s grasp, his head under my chin as his head rested on my chest, the position different from the one we had drifted to sleep in. The room was bathed in soft, muted light, the faint glow of the early morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains I had swapped out the day before. The air purifier hummed softly in the background, a gentle white noise that blended seamlessly with the sound of Nicholas’s deep, even breaths. His body was warm against mine, his arms still wrapped tightly around my waist as though he’d been holding onto me even in his sleep.

I glanced down at him, my fingers lightly brushing through his tousled hair. He looked peaceful, his features softened in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks. His lashes rested against his cheeks, and his lips, slightly parted, moved faintly with each exhale. I smiled to myself, unable to resist tracing the curve of his jawline with my fingers. As I watched him sleep, I had the urge of wanting to greet him with breakfast in bed, the first way I would spoil him today.

The thought of surprising Nicholas with breakfast in bed made me smile. He had spent so much of last night making sure I felt loved and cared for, and now it was my turn to do the same for him. Slowly, I began to slip out from under his arms, careful not to wake him. He stirred slightly, his grip on my waist loosening, but his eyes remained closed, and his breathing evened out again. I tiptoed across the room, pulling on the pajamas I had left draped over the chair the day before that I never had the chance to put on.

The house was quiet as I crept down the hallway toward the kitchen, the early morning light casting a warm glow across the walls. My mom was always an early riser, so I half-expected to find her there, but to my relief, the kitchen was empty. I couldn’t imagine the teasing I’d endure if she caught me sneaking around this early for Nicholas.

I set to work quickly, gathering ingredients for pancakes and eggs, knowing they were his favorite. As I cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them, I couldn’t help but feel a warmth in my chest, a deep contentment that came from doing something simple yet meaningful for him. Every step, from pouring the batter onto the hot griddle to flipping the pancakes, felt like an act of love, a way to show him how much he meant to me.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm maple syrup began to fill the kitchen, and I plated everything carefully, arranging the pancakes, eggs, and fruit just so. I grabbed a tray from the cabinet, setting the plate and mug on it. It was simple, but I hoped it would make him feel special.

As I carried the tray back down the hall, I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Nicholas was used to grand gestures and lavish displays in his world, and while this was far more humble, it came straight from my heart. I just hoped it would mean as much to him as it did to me.

When I pushed the bedroom door open and closed it back with my foot, balancing the tray carefully, I found him still curled up on the bed, his head nestled against the pillow where I’d been. The sight of him, so peaceful and unguarded, made my heart swell.

“Nicholas,” I called softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. I brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, my fingers lingering against his warm skin. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

He stirred at my touch, his eyes fluttering open slowly. A sleepy, lopsided smile spread across his face as he blinked up at me. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick and raspy.

“Good morning,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I made you breakfast.”

His eyes flicked to the tray, and his smile widened, lighting up his face. “You’re spoiling me already?” he teased, rubbing his eyes open and propping himself up on one elbow.

“You deserve it,” I said simply, leaning down to kiss him softly before reaching for the tray. I placed it on his lap as he sat up in bed, watching as he took in the neatly arranged plate and the little touches I’d added.

“This is perfect,” he said, his voice soft with genuine appreciation. He picked up the fork, taking a bite of the pancakes, and let out a low hum of approval. He grinned, taking another bite before setting the fork down and pulling me closer. “Thank you,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “For everything. Last night, this morning… for just being you.”

I smiled, resting my forehead against his, kissing the corner of his eye, “Always,” I whispered, feeling a sense of peace settle over me again as we shared this quiet, intimate moment together. It wasn’t grand or extravagant, but it was us — and that was more than enough.

I made my way over to my closet, starting to plan out today’s outfit. Thankfully, it wasn’t as cold as the day before, a nice and sunny 57 degrees Fahrenheit, so I made sure to choose a light sweater.

“Hey, come here,” I heard Nicholas softly call out to me.

I turned around to see Nicholas cutting up a piece of pancake, stabbing it into the fork before holding it out lightly as if it might fall off. I smiled at the sight, crossing the room toward him and taking a seat next to him on the bed. Nicholas’s lips curled into a playful smirk, his eyes glinting with warmth.

“I don’t want to enjoy these alone,” he said, holding the fork steady.

I leaned in, opening my mouth slightly as he guided the fork to my lips. The warmth of the pancake, combined with the sweet syrup and buttery richness, made me hum in delight.

“It tastes sweeter having you feed it to me,” I said after swallowing.

Nicholas laughed softly, setting the fork down for a moment and reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You have no idea how much I love this,” he murmured, his voice lower now, carrying a hint of emotion.

“This?” I asked, tilting my head slightly, feeling the warmth of his gaze settle over me.

“This,” he repeated, gesturing vaguely between us, the tray, and the bed. “Being here with you. It’s everything. It’s so normal and perfect and… exactly what I needed.”

His words made my chest tighten with affection. I reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently, “As long as you’re here, I want to make every moment count.”

Nicholas’s smile softened, his fingers curling around mine as he brought my hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to my knuckles. For a moment, we just sat there, the morning light streaming through the window and bathing us in its soft glow.

“So,” I began, breaking the quiet. “I have a pretty busy day planned for us, so why don’t I get ahead and hop in the shower while you finish eating up?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair before returning to my closet to finish planning my outfit.

I pulled out ol’ reliable, a plain shirt and jeans, setting it down on my desk chair, before making my way to my en suite bathroom. The morning air in the room was cool against my skin as I stepped inside, shut the door behind me, and switched on the vent fan to filter out the steam I knew I’d cause with my warm shower.

The bathroom was cozy, with soft white tiles and a single recessed shelf in the shower that was perfect for propping up my phone. I turned on the water, adjusting it until it was just the right temperature — hot enough to warm myself up from the night’s cold A/C air but not too hot to where I might boil myself alive.

As steam began to fill the room, I quickly set up my phone on the shelf, opening Hulu to catch up on the latest episode of the irreverent comedy show I was watching. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I watched tv in the shower because I truly loved watching it or just because I had grown accustomed to having the constant chatter in the background while I worked through my hair, like I was in some sort of personal hair salon.

The water cascaded over me as I pulled back the curtain slightly and stepped into the full shower, the heat soaking into my skin and relaxing my muscles. I tilted my head back, letting the water run through my hair as the show played quietly in the background. The sound of the dialogue mixed with the steady rhythm of the water and the constant hum of the vent, creating a soothing atmosphere.

Just as I reached for the shampoo, I heard the bathroom door creak open. I knew it was Nicholas, so I didn’t mind at all, continuing to lather my hands up with shampoo and starting to work at my hair. In my head, I thought maybe he’d use the toilet or brush his teeth after finishing up his breakfast, so when I felt the curtain pull back slightly, I opened my eyes.

Nicholas stood there, leaning casually against the edge of the shower, his smirk both playful and mischievous. Steam swirled around him, softening the lines of his face as he met my gaze.

"You have your phone in here?" he asked, his tone teasing as his eyes flicked to the shelf where my show was still playing.

“I like the noise,” a laugh escaped me as I rinsed the shampoo from my hair.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly before stepping closer. His hands reached for the hem of his t-shirt, and I watched as he pulled it off in one smooth motion. He stepped out of his jeans and boxers, pulling the curtain back more to join me. He stepped in, letting the hot water hit his skin. I tried to feign indignation, but the sight of him standing there, drops of water trickling down his chest, made it impossible to focus. His eyes flicked to my phone again, knitting his eyebrows at the show for a bit. It was almost like he was feigning interest, hiding his true intentions.

I worked the conditioner through my hair then proceeded to reach for the body wash. Nicholas stopped me, reaching for the bottle and the exfoliating glove on the wall, slipping it on. “You made breakfast for me. Can I return the favor?” He asked with a smirk.

I didn’t want to protest. The first time he washed my body during our weekend in Los Angeles, his touch was so tender. I didn’t want to deny myself that feeling again. Though, he had the teeniest glint of mischief in his eyes this time around, one that sent the heat through my cheeks.

I nodded my head, swallowing as I felt my pulse quicken watching him squeeze some of the body wash onto the glove. The rich, floral scent mixed with the steam, filling the small space. I stepped back slightly to give him room, though the shower was small enough that we were still pressed close. He motioned for me to turn around. I obliged, anticipating the moment I’d feel the glove against my skin.

Nicholas started at my shoulders, his touch firm but gentle as he worked the glove in slow, deliberate circles over my skin. The sensation was a mix of soothing and electrifying, his movements almost hypnotic. The exfoliating texture heightened every stroke, sending tingles racing across my body as he worked his way down my back.

"You've got tension here," he murmured, his voice low and close to my ear as he lingered at the curve where my neck met my shoulders. "When was the last time someone took care of you like this?"

"Hmm," I hummed, my breath hitching slightly. "Can't say I remember. Maybe six months ago,” I spoke, a tinge of teasing behind my words, knowing that was the last time he had seen me in the shower.

His lips ghosted over the damp skin just below my ear, not quite a kiss, but enough to make my breath catch. "I’m sorry, baby," he murmured. "Guess I'll just have to make up for it."

I bit my lip, my heart pounding in my chest as his hands moved lower, the glove brushing along the dip of my spine, down to the small of my back. His free hand moved up to my shoulder, pushing them forward into the tiled wall while my hips stuck out behind me. Nicholas's touch lingered as his hand guided me, my palms pressing flat against the cool tiles. The contrast between the hot water cascading over me and the rough yet gentle movement of the glove sent a shiver down my spine.

His free hand lingered around my neck, pulling on the necklace he had given me all those months ago, the one with his initial on the back of it. His fingertips toyed with the chain, tangling themselves in it. The slight tug of the necklace sent a ripple of sensation through me, a reminder of the connection it symbolized. His fingers teased along the chain, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin at the base of my neck. The cool metal against my damp skin was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body and the steam swirling around us.

"You still wear this every day," Nicholas murmured, his voice rough, filled with something deeper than desire. It was possessive, reverent.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Always."

“Good." The single word was laced with satisfaction, his grip on the chain firming slightly as he leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, my breath hitching as I pressed my forehead against the tiles. My fingers curled against the tiles, desperate for something to hold onto as he pressed closer, his erection pressing against the small of my back. I could feel the heat of him behind me, his body a solid, grounding presence that made the rest of the world fall away.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my entire body. "How much I want you?"

I nodded again, my voice caught in my throat. The glove was forgotten as it fell to the floor with a soft thud, his now-bare hand slipping around my waist to rest on my stomach, holding me in place as he leaned in further, his chest pressing against my back. His lips trailed down the side of my neck, alternating between feather-light kisses and gentle nips that made my breath catch.

"Six months without you," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, cutting through the sound of the water. His movements slowed, deliberate, as though savoring every second. "I don’t know how I survived."

The weight of his words made my breath hitch, my body responding instinctively as his touch continued its maddening rhythm. The hand on my stomach moved lover, brushing over my sensitive spot.

I let out an audible moan, not afraid of holding myself back with the water drowning out our noises now. He trailed kisses along my neck, his touch becoming more insistent as his hand continued to rub me. His lips grazed my shoulder as he pressed closer against me. I could feel the firmness of him against my back as his hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of skin as though memorizing it all over again.

The steam in the shower only added to the haze between us, the air thick with heat and unspoken promises. The hand that rested against my hip came up to tilt my head back toward him. His lips found mine in a kiss that was both demanding and tender, leaving me breathless as I pressed back into him. Without breaking the kiss, Nicholas reached for my phone on the shelf, his movements confident and deliberate.

I pulled away slightly, my brows furrowing as I realized what he was doing. “Nic... what are you-"

“It’s okay; it’s only us," he murmured, his voice soft but commanding. His eyes met mine, dark with a mix of desire and sincerity. "Just something to tide me over for when I leave back to New York."

He paused the show and exited the app, his thumb hovering over the camera icon waiting for my nod. My pulse raced as I hesitated, but the vulnerability and care in his gaze melted any resistance. Slowly, I gave a small nod, my heart pounding as he tapped the screen and hit record, angling the phone to capture the two of us.

The atmosphere thickened as Nicholas positioned the phone carefully, the steam curling around us. The soft glow from the shower light reflected off the droplets clinging to our skin. His hand returned to my hip, steadying me as he pressed closer. I could feel the weight of his gaze even without looking at him, the knowledge that he was capturing every detail sending a shiver through me. The only other times I’ve had a camera pointed at me during moments like this was when Nicholas and I would have our private FaceTime calls in the dead of night, but never recording.

He shifted slightly, positioning himself, the anticipation making every second stretch. When he finally pushed into me, the sensation was overwhelming — a mix of fullness, heat, and undeniable connection that made my breath catch. My hands pressed against the cool tiles for balance, the contrast only heightening the sensations coursing through me.

The rhythm he set was deliberate and unhurried, his movements slow and deep as though savoring every second. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, the steam and heat making it impossible to tell where my body ended and his began. The weight of the camera, the idea of being seen through his eyes, added an edge to the experience, amplifying every sensation and emotion.

One of Nicholas’s hands slid up my stomach, his fingers brushing over my necklace before continuing upward to cradle my throat lightly. The pressure was gentle, his thumb grazing the pulse that beat wildly beneath his touch, a silent acknowledgment of the trust between us. His other hand steadied me at the waist, guiding me with a firm but loving grip that left no doubt of his control.

Nicholas leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as his pace quickened slightly, the tension between us building with every movement. His breath was warm and uneven, his low groans vibrating against my skin and sending jolts of pleasure through me. I could feel his restraint, the way he held himself back, letting the moment stretch into something unforgettable.

The camera was still, its presence both grounding and exhilarating as I let myself be seen through its lens. The vulnerability of it, the rawness, made every touch and movement feel magnified, every emotion laid bare. Time seemed to stand still, the outside world fading away as we lost ourselves in each other.

Eventually, Nicholas reached for the phone, holding it in one hand as he pushed me further into the wall with the other, focusing the lens on his rhythm as he thrusted in and out of me. The lens captured the curve of my back, the way his hips met mine with each deliberate thrust, the beads of water gliding down our skin. His hand tightened on my waist, grounding me as l arched instinctively, pressing closer to him. The camera wasn't just documenting — it felt like an extension of his gaze, amplifying the way he took in every detail of our connection.

My breaths quickened, the intensity of his movements building with each second. His hand trailed up my back, tracing the ridges of my spine, before settling on my shoulder and pulling me back toward him, my head falling back on his shoulder. He shifted the phone around in front of us, switching to selfie mode as he recorded our faces, his groans mingling with the sound of my ragged breathing.

Suddenly, my phone started to ring, cutting our video short and displaying my mom’s name across the screen brightly. The vibration of my phone startled me, its muffled ringtone cutting through the steamy haze. My body tensed instinctively, but Nicholas didn't falter, his thrusts deep and deliberate as he tightened the grip on my phone.

He glanced at the screen, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. "Answer it," his voice rasped, low and commanding.

My eyes widened, my heart racing for a different reason now. "Nicholas, no-"

His hand tightened on my hip, his movements slowing but not stopping as he held the phone up to me, the name on the screen glaring back at me. “Answer,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I hesitated, my body trembling under his hold. I’m not sure what had changed within Nicholas, becoming even more maddeningly bold than he already was and increasingly more reckless with each of our hookups. I knew that filming had shifted something inside him, forcing him to explore a new side of himself that he held back. Maybe he just wanted to get back at my mom for her subtle snide comments all through dinner last night. Truthfully, I didn’t care for either reason — I was completely at the mercy of this new side of him, no matter the cause. Like I said, he could get me to do anything.

Nicholas’s thrusts deepened, his gaze locked on mine with an intensity that made it impossible to deny him. With trembling fingers, I accepted the call, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hello?” My voice was shaky, breathless, but I tried to steady it as much as possible. I was praying that the sound of the water running would be loud enough to mask my shakiness.

“Hey, sweetie,” my mom’s voice muffled through my ear. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, not at all,” I managed, forcing a lightness into my tone despite the heat rushing through me. Nicholas didn’t stop. If anything, the pace of his movements remained maddeningly steady, his hand on my waist firm, holding me in place as he thrust deeply, deliberately. “I’m just in the shower.”

I clung to the edge of the shower tile with one hand, the other holding onto Nicholas’s arm wrapped around my stomach as though it were the only lifeline keeping me grounded in reality. My mom’s voice filtered through, her casual warmth starkly contrasting the chaos Nicholas was wreaking on my body.

“I just wanted to tell you that I think maybe we should hold a small cookout today so the rest of the family can meet Nicholas before the New Year’s party tomorrow,” she said, oblivious to the tremor in my voice. “I know you might’ve made plans with him already, but how does that sound? I don't think he’ll mind. Is he awake?”

The mention of his name triggered Nicholas to lean in, his breath hot against my temple as he wickedly grinned into my skin. I opened my mouth to reply, but a sharp thrust from Nicholas stole my breath, forcing me to press my lips tightly together to stifle the sound threatening to escape. His free hand slid up my stomach, grazing my ribs as his movements grew more deliberate, testing my resolve.

“Answer her,” he murmured, his voice so quiet only I could hear it. His words sent a shiver down my spine, my body tightening under his touch.

I mustered every ounce of control in me to reply to her question, “I don’t know. He was still in bed by the time I came in to shower,” which wasn’t a total lie. It was the truth, before he decided to join me in the shower.

“Well, just let him know when you’re done,” my mom replied, her voice cheerful and completely unaware of my predicament.

Nicholas’s hand slid lower, his fingers grazing dangerously close to the spot where I was already struggling to hold myself together. My breath hitched audibly, and I had to cover it with a cough, turning my face slightly to avoid letting any sound betray me. He chuckled softly against my ear, his amusement sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.

“Yeah, okay,” I managed, gripping the phone tightly as Nicholas shifted his angle, driving me closer to the edge. I wasn’t even aware of what I had just agreed to. “Bye, Mom.”

Nicholas didn’t even wait for my mom to say it back before ending the call and setting the phone back down on the shelf. As soon as he placed the phone down, his movements became unrelenting, his pace quickening and his grip on my waist tightening. He pressed his chest firmly against my back, and turned my head back to face him.

“Good girl,” he murmured against my lips, his voice dripping with a mix of pride and desire. His hands moved possessively over my body, as if he needed to feel every inch of me to confirm that I was his.

The heat in the shower was nothing compared to the fire coursing through my veins. Every movement of his hips against mine sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, leaving me breathless and trembling. Nicholas’s grip on my waist tightened, his pace becoming deliberate and insistent, as though he wanted to draw out every last ounce of sensation from this moment. The intensity of his touch was almost too much, yet not enough, and I arched into him, needing more.

“Nicholas,” I gasped, his name a plea on my lips. My hands reached back, clutching at his hair as I turned my head further, capturing his mouth in a desperate, heated kiss. He groaned into my mouth, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he regained control, his movements growing rougher, more desperate.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against my lips, his tone a promise, a vow. “Just let go.”

His words unraveled me. The tension that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside me snapped, and I was lost, the waves of pleasure crashing over me in a blinding crescendo. My body trembled violently in his arms, and Nicholas held me tightly, his own breathing ragged as he followed me over the edge moments later.

The world seemed to tilt as we clung to each other, the sound of the water cascading around us grounding us in the aftermath. Nicholas’s hands were gentle now, smoothing over my sides and back as he pressed soft kisses to my shoulder and neck. My head lolled back against his chest, my breaths coming in shallow, uneven bursts as I tried to steady myself.

“What was that?” I managed to ask through my panting, referring to his sudden emboldened and risky behavior.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound a low rumble that vibrated against my back. He kissed the curve of my shoulder, his lips lingering as if savoring the moment before finally speaking. “What was what?” he teased, his voice smug yet tender.

I turned my head slightly to give him a pointed look, though the effort was half-hearted at best. My body was still trembling from the intensity of it all, and his arms around me felt too comforting to fully protest.

“You know what I’m talking about,” I said, my tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Just last night, you hesitated hooking up because my family was still in the house and now you had me answer the phone while you were still inside me,” I spoke, not able to bite back the smile on my lips.

Nicholas grinned, his smug expression tempered by the playful glint in his eyes. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his arms tightening around me slightly. "I don't know what came over me," he said, though his tone betrayed no remorse. “I guess I was just sick of people interrupting us. Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’d do it.”

I watched as he reached for my phone again, unlocking it with my face and wrapping his arms around me, settling the base of my phone on my stomach as he rested his chin on my shoulder, swiping through to the Photos app.

I raised an eyebrow, twisting slightly in his arms to look at him. “What are you doing now?” I asked, my voice tinged with playful suspicion.

“Just making sure I have a copy,” Nicholas said smoothly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk. His fingers worked deftly, and within seconds, the video was sent to his phone. “For safekeeping.” His grin widened as he set my phone down on the shelf and tightened his arms around me. “Don’t worry; it’s safe with me. No one else will ever see it.”

I let out a soft laugh, leaning back against him as the water continued to cascade over us. “I hope not. I’d hate for your manager to have to deal with that kind of PR disaster.”

Nicholas chuckled, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of my shoulder. “Trust me, baby, no one’s getting their hands on this. It’s just something to keep me sane while I’m stuck filming without you.”

His words were teasing, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity in his tone that made my heart ache just a little. I turned in his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and studying his face. “You know I’d visit you every day if I could,” I said softly.

“I know,” he murmured, his hands settling on my hips. His expression softened, the mischief in his eyes giving way to something deeper, more tender. “But you’ve got your own life… work, family. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from that.”

For a moment, I wanted to open my mouth and tell him he could, but fantasy aside, was I ready to leave home, Nicholas or no Nicholas? The question lingered in my mind as Nicholas’s arms tightened slightly around me, his warmth grounding me against the stream of water. The idea of moving out had been an ever-present thought, especially ever since I moved back in with my family after college. Even though it was perfectly normal for other graduates to be in my situation, I still couldn’t help but feel… behind.

I wanted to leave, but every time I brought up the idea, my mom always managed to convince me otherwise. She wasn’t overtly cruel; that wasn’t her style, but she had this way of making me feel like I couldn’t function without her, like I was incomplete, ill-equipped, fragile.

“So, what did you end up roping us into with your mom today?” Nicholas’s question pulled me out of my thoughts.

I shook the thoughts away, sort-of remembering the conversation with my mom on the phone.

Nicholas and I finished our shower and got ready — styling our hair, picking our outfits, brushing our teeth, doing any finishing touches. Seeing Nicholas maneuver through the pastel-pink chaos of my room and bathroom was unexpectedly… hot. There he was, all broad shoulders and defined muscles, looking every bit like he belonged on a movie set or gracing a magazine cover, surrounded by a room that looked like a cupcake had thrown up in it. It was like he was my own personal Ken doll. He leaned down to tie his boots at the foot of my bed, his shirt stretching tight across his back, the quilt beneath him almost ridiculous in comparison. It was like watching a warrior prince step into a fairy tale cottage — out of place, yet somehow fitting in a way that shouldn’t make sense.

We emerged from my bedroom and made our way over to the living room, my mom, already ready for the day, and my eldest brother, still in his pjs, lounging around watching the tv.

My mom whipped her head, smiling, “There you guys are.”

I smiled, greeting my mom with a kiss on the cheek, while Nicholas gave her a polite hug, shooting me a knowing look over her shoulder. Blushing, I looked down at my feet. “By what time do you want us to be back for the cookout?” I asked.

My mom looked at her watch, “4-ish? Your dad will turn the grill on by then.”

“Okay,” I nodded my head, purposefully keeping our conversation short so she wouldn’t feel compelled to make any snide remarks. “We’ll be back by then.” I took Nicholas by the hand and smacked the back of my brother’s head on our way out, our usual form of greeting each other.

Nicholas followed me out to the car, his hand casually resting on the small of my back as we walked. The sun was shining, the air crisp and cool, a perfect day to explore. I had a plan that was simple yet meaningful: take Nicholas to the only bookstore in town, then my favorite coffee shop. Originally, I had also wanted to take him back to the island and show him one of my favorite spots near the dunes, but since we had that cookout now… I guess I wouldn’t be able to show him.

I figured the bookstore, to start, would perfectly ease us into the day. Nicholas and I loved our books; maybe I could spoil him and buy him a couple for him to take back with him to New York. The bookstore itself wasn’t flashy; it had just opened last year, our town’s first bookstore in 10 years, and I had been going almost every week since. In a way, it held a particularly special place in my heart because it’s where I had bought my used copy of White Oleander, the book Nicholas had asked me about at the beach when we first met.

“I thought we’d start at this cute little bookstore,” I said as we got in the car, glancing at him with a small smile. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s got character.“

Nicholas’s eyes lit up with interest as he fastened his seatbelt.

The drive wasn’t long, but Nicholas spent most of it looking out the window, pointing out little details that caught his attention: the ridiculous amount of palm trees like he was back in Los Angeles, the colorful murals on the sides of buildings, and the fact our town only had one two-lane highway compared to the countless ones in LA or New York. His enthusiasm for the small-town scenery made me smile.

When we pulled into downtown, I scanned the one-way streets for parking. Luckily, there was a spot just a few shops down the road from the bookstore, an absolute win. I quickly parallel parked, switching the car off and exiting. I reached for Nicholas’s hand as he rounded the car, quickly tugging him toward the bookstore.

The store was warm and inviting, with wooden shelves packed tightly with books, their spines creating a patchwork of colors. The faint scent of aged paper and cedar hung in the air, mingling with the aroma of fresh coffee from the tiny café tucked in the corner.

Nicholas stopped just a few steps inside, taking it all in with wide eyes. “This place is adorable,” he said, pulling out his phone. He snapped a photo of the entrance, then another of the cozy seating area near the front. 

I chuckled, nudging his arm. “Wait until you see the rare books section in the back. It’s my favorite spot.”

As we made our way through the store, Nicholas couldn’t stop snapping pictures. He took close-ups of quirky book covers, candid shots of the well-worn wooden floors, and even a selfie with one of the whimsical murals painted on the wall near the children’s section. I couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. It was endearing to see him so excited over something so simple.

We wandered down aisle after aisle, pausing every so often to thumb through books that caught our attention. Nicholas picked up a collection of photography essays and flipped through it, occasionally showing me a particularly striking image. I, in turn, found a few old poetry collections and shared snippets of my favorite lines with him.

When we reached the rare books section, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. The shelves were filled with leather-bound tomes and first editions, each one encased in glass or displayed with care. Nicholas lingered over a signed copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, his fingers hovering just above the glass.

“No fucking way,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s signed,” he looked at it with awe, bending down a bit to get a better look. “I was Atticus in my high school’s production of To Kill A Mockingbird, y’know?”

“You were?” I asked with a smile, carefully leaning against a nearby bookshelf, enthused to hear another anecdote about his life.

Nicholas nodded, his eyes still glued to the book. “Yeah. I was a junior. It was my first big role. I was so nervous during the auditions, but my teacher said I had the gravitas for it.” He chuckled, standing up straight and glancing over at me.

I smiled, watching the way his face softened as he spoke about it. 

Nicholas continued, his voice warm with nostalgia. “That role changed everything for me. I didn’t think I had the guts to be on stage, let alone speak in front of a crowd, but playing Atticus… it was like stepping into someone else’s skin, someone who was brave and moral in a way I admired.” His gaze returned to the book, and his expression grew more tender. “He’s stuck with me since.”

The sincerity in his voice hit me square in the chest, and I found myself wanting to do something to show him how much I appreciated him sharing this piece of himself with me. While he wandered further down the aisle, his attention drawn to a collection of leather-bound classics, I glanced back at the signed copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

Without hesitation, I approached the store clerk, keeping an eye on Nicholas to make sure he didn’t notice. “I’d like to buy that,” I whispered, pointing to the book.

The clerk smiled sneakily, catching my drift. Without alerting Nicholas, the clerk retrieved the book and carefully packaged it in a protective sleeve before slipping it into a discreet bag for me. I paid quickly, my heart racing slightly at the price. If I thought $13 smoothies were expensive, how about a $400 signed book? But I didn’t care. It was worth every penny if it meant seeing Nicholas’s reaction. The clerk tucked the bag behind the counter, telling me he’d stick into a bag with whatever else we decided to buy.

I smiled and walked to the shelf of used books to pull out a random book, making my way over to the sofa and reading a few pages as Nicholas continued to peruse to his heart’s content. Some minutes later, Nicholas joined me at the couch, setting down a small stack of books on the table in front of us and wrapping his arm around my shoulder, kissing my head.

“What are you reading?” He asked quietly, rubbing the side of my arm.

I flipped back to the cover, “The Rise of Rome.”

He pulled me closer, resting his chin on my head, “Thank you for bringing me here. I can tell it means a lot to you.”

I smiled, leaning into him and closing the book on my lap. “It does,” I admitted softly. “This place is kind of a miracle for our town.”

Nicholas tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

I gestured around the cozy bookstore, the warm lighting and creaky wooden floors giving it a charm that felt like home. “It’s the first bookstore we’ve had in ten years. The last one closed down when I was in high school because there just wasn’t enough business to keep it afloat. For years, people had to drive to the next town over or order online for books, and it made me so sad to see something so important just… gone.”

Nicholas’s gaze softened as he listened, his thumb brushing absently against my arm.

I continued, my voice filling with a quiet passion. “This place only exists because the community came together to fund it. There were fundraisers, bake sales, even an auction to get the money together. A few local businesses pitched in too, and when it finally opened last year, it felt like a huge victory for everyone.”

Nicholas let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

“It is,” I said, glancing around. “But it’s still tough. Places like this don’t make a lot of money, even when people love them. I just hope it sticks around.”

Nicholas was quiet for a moment, his brows furrowing in thought as he glanced around the store. Then, a small smile crept onto his face, and he reached for his phone. “Do you think they’d mind if I posted about this place?”

I blinked, taken aback by his question. “Like on social media?”

He nodded, already opening his camera app. “Yeah. A little shoutout might bring some attention to it, maybe even some new customers.“

My heart swelled at the thought, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “This place deserves to be seen. Plus, I wouldn’t mind doing a little something to help keep it open for you,” he kissed my shoulder.

Nicholas stood up, his phone already poised to snap a picture of one of the store’s charming shelves filled with colorful spines and little handwritten recommendation cards. He even approached the clerk, striking up a conversation about the bookstore and asking his permission if he could post about it. Of course, the clerk was enthusiastic, excitedly posing for a few photos with Nicholas.

After a few clicks, he turned to me, a playful grin on his face. “Come here. I need you in the shot.”

I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head. “You don’t need me in it.”

“I absolutely do,” he argued, reaching out to pull me up from the couch. “You’re the whole reason we’re here.

Reluctantly, I let him guide me over to one of the shelves near the front of the store. Nicholas adjusted his phone, pulling me close so we fit into the frame. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, and he gave the camera his signature charming grin, while I opted for a softer smile, knowing he’d post this photo for everybody to see.

Satisfied, he turned the phone back to himself, quickly typing out a caption as I peeked over his shoulder.

Stopped by the coziest little bookstore today—it’s a real community effort, and the first one this town has had in ten years! Places like this deserve all the love they can get. If you’re in the area, check it out, or order something online to support! Keeping spaces like this alive is so important. 🖤

He added a few relevant hashtags and tagged the bookstore’s account before hitting post. Then he turned to me with a satisfied smile. “Done.”

I stared at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Nicholas leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Anything for you,” he murmured. “And for a good cause.”

The rest of the visit felt even more special, knowing he’d done something to help. As we made our way to the register to check out, I handed over a couple of books we’d  picked out. The clerk gave me a knowing smile, expertly ringing everything up without giving anything away.

Nicholas glanced at me as I paid, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sure you don’t want me to cover this?”

“Nope,” I said, giving him a cheeky grin. “My treat.”

He didn’t argue further, and once we were back in the car, I handed him the bag with his gift. “Here,” I said, my voice warm with anticipation. “This is for you.”

Nicholas blinked, surprised. “What? You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to,” I said simply. “Open it.”

He pulled out the wrapped book, his expression shifting from curiosity to awe as he realized what it was. “No way,” he whispered, carefully turning it over in his hands. “The signed copy?”

I nodded, biting my lip to keep from grinning too widely. “I saw how much it meant to you, and I couldn’t resist.”

Nicholas stared at the book for a long moment before looking up at me, his eyes shining with gratitude and a tear or two pricking at the corners. “(Y/N), this is…” his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, his thumb brushing over the edge of the book’s cover as though it were the most fragile, precious thing he’d ever held. “This is incredible,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t even know what to say.”

I smiled, feeling my chest tighten at his reaction. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I know how much this story and that role meant to you. I wanted you to have something that could remind you of where it all started, no matter where you are.” I reached out, placing a hand over his. “You deserve everything, Nicholas.”

He looked up at me then, his eyes glassy but full of warmth, and set the book gently on his lap before pulling me into his arms. “I love you,” he murmured, his lips pressing softly to my temple. “I love you so much. I’m so in love with you, (Y/N).”

My breath caught in my throat at the words, my heart swelling as I wrapped my arms around him. “I love you too,” I whispered back, feeling the sincerity in every syllable.

We stayed like that for a moment, the car silent except for the faint hum of the world outside. It was one of those rare moments that felt timeless, like nothing else mattered but the two of us.

As I turned the car back on and we headed toward the coffee shop, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was still carefully cradling the book in his lap, his fingers tracing the edges of the cover as if grounding himself in its significance. His quiet joy made the short drive to the coffee shop feel serene, a shared moment of contentment that didn’t need words.

The coffee shop was as cozy as the bookstore, with mismatched chairs, soft lighting, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with hints of cinnamon and vanilla. Nicholas insisted on paying this time, shooting me a playful glare when I tried to argue.

We ordered our drinks and found a small table near the window. The afternoon sunlight spilled in, painting the space in a golden hue. Nicholas leaned back in his chair, taking in the charm of the shop as he sipped his drink. We lingered there for a while, talking about everything and nothing, the way we always did. Nicholas told me about a script he was considering, his excitement lighting up his features, while I shared stories about growing up in the town, painting a picture of my life before him.

When the clock crept closer to four, I reluctantly glanced at my phone. “I had more planned, but we should probably head back for the cookout,” I said, not wanting the day to end.

Nicholas sighed dramatically but stood, gathering our empty cups and tossing them into the bin before taking my hand again. “Lead the way, my charming tour guide.”

The drive back was filled with easy conversation and laughter, the anticipation of the cookout settling over us like a soft blanket. As we pulled into the driveway, the scent of grilling meat and the sound of chatter greeted us, signaling the start of what promised to be a lively evening.

Nicholas squeezed my hand before we stepped out of the car, his expression soft as he looked at me. He didn’t need to say anything more; his eyes gave me that exact comforting look that could calm every nerve in my body.

As we walked toward the backyard, the sight of my extended family bustling about brought a wave of emotions I hadn’t fully prepared for. My parents had set up the yard beautifully — twinkling string lights crisscrossed above the patio, and the grill was already sending plumes of savory smoke into the air. Folding tables were covered in colorful tablecloths, laden with bowls of chips, salads, and other sides my mom had been prepping all day. The scene was cozy and familiar, yet now it held a new significance.

I wasn’t nervous about Nicholas meeting my extended family at all. He had so expertly navigated dinner with my nuclear family yesterday, that I was confident that he could hold his own with the great aunts and cousins. I didn’t care as much about their opinions.

As we stepped into the yard, I couldn’t help but glance at him. He looked completely at ease, holding the signed To Kill a Mockingbird in one hand and my hand in the other. The family erupted in cheers and greetings as we entered the space. I felt overwhelmed at the loud greeting, having never been the center of attention at functions like these before.

The self-consciousness hit me like a tidal wave, even as I forced a smile and waved at everyone. My extended family’s enthusiasm felt overwhelming, almost exaggerated, and I couldn’t tell if it was genuine excitement or a spectacle made out of the fact that I, the one who had always flown under the radar, was finally here with someone.

Nicholas, of course, took it all in stride. His easygoing charm radiated as he greeted everyone, answering questions with a warm smile, shaking hands, and laughing at jokes I couldn’t hear from where I stood. For a moment, I envied his confidence — how effortless it was for him to win people over. Meanwhile, I couldn’t shake the weight of the attention on me.

Why now? I wondered. Why all this fuss? My older siblings had brought home significant others before, and while there’d been interest, there had never been this. No cookouts, no fanfare. It was like my family had been holding their breath for years, waiting for me to prove I wasn’t going to end up alone, and Nicholas’s presence had finally given them the opportunity to exhale. Is this why my mom wanted to throw a cookout? To embarrass me? I wouldn’t put it past her.

I found myself retreating a little, busying myself with setting up the side dishes or refilling drinks to avoid lingering too long in conversations. Nicholas noticed, of course, and his hand found mine whenever he was close, his touch grounding me in a way I desperately needed.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly at one point, his eyes searching mine as we stood off to the side.

I nodded quickly, offering a smile that I hoped was convincing. “Yeah, just… I feel like everybody’s watching me,” I glanced around the room to find some of the aunts whispering to each other and looking over. God, why are aunts so gossip-y?

He tilted his head slightly, studying me, but didn’t push. “Well, you’re handling it beautifully,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face, kissing my forehead.

I wanted to believe him, but I knew I was being awkward. However, my demeanor wasn’t for naught. My suspicions about this whole event were confirmed when my mom lowered the music and clapped her hands to gain everybody’s attention. Oh, boy.

As the music quieted and the hum of conversation faded, all eyes turned to my mom, who stood near the grill with a self-satisfied smile. She raised her can of Coke Zero, a signature move she always employed to command a room. My stomach dropped. I could sense what was coming before she even opened her mouth.

“I just wanted to take a moment to welcome everyone and thank you all for coming today,” she began, her tone dripping with charm. Her gaze swept over the crowd, lingering on Nicholas and me. “It’s so wonderful to see this backyard filled with laughter and love. And of course, a very special thank you to Nicholas for being here with us.”

The crowd murmured their agreement, a few raising their drinks in his direction. Nicholas gave a modest smile, nodding in appreciation. I squeezed his hand tightly, hoping that would be the end of it, but I should’ve known better.

“You know,” my mom continued, her voice taking on that overly sweet, theatrical quality that made my skin crawl, “this is such a monumental occasion for us because, believe it or not, this is the first time our lovely (Y/N) has ever brought someone home to meet the family. We were starting to get a little worried!” She joked, her humor landing with everybody except me and Nicholas.

I wanted to sink into the ground, to disappear entirely. My cheeks burned as I forced a tight smile, trying to pretend her comment hadn’t gutted me.

Nicholas turned to me, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “You didn’t mention that,” he said softly, his tone more curious than accusatory.

I avoided his gaze, my mind racing for a way to recover. “I didn’t?” I mumbled under my breath, though my trembling hands betrayed me.

“Oh, don’t be shy!” my mom chimed in, clearly reveling in the attention she’d garnered. “We all thought this day might never come. I mean, after all these years…” She trailed off, laughing lightly as if it were all harmless fun.

The laughter around me felt suffocating. I glanced at Nicholas, his expression unreadable as he took in the scene. Was he embarrassed for me? Judging me? I couldn’t tell. The anxiety clawed at my chest, and I felt like I might explode.

“Mom,” I said quietly, my voice tight, but she either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me.

“And isn’t he just the most charming young man?” she continued, gesturing toward Nicholas like he was some prized possession I’d finally managed to acquire. “(Y/N), you’ve outdone yourself. It’s about time, don’t you all think?”

The crowd chuckled, and I could feel their eyes boring into me, their judgment and curiosity palpable. I was a grown adult being paraded like a child who’d finally mastered tying their shoes. The humiliation was overwhelming.

“How’d you even get an actor as your first boyfriend?” A younger cousin asked. I didn’t fault her for her bluntness; she was 11. Kids are always blunt.

“Yeah, did you stalk him?” Another older cousin asked amusedly.

My throat tightened as the room erupted in laughter, my cousins’ teasing only adding to my growing humiliation. The questions stung, not because they were malicious, but because they reinforced the narrative my mom had so gleefully laid out: that Nicholas was someone I didn’t deserve, someone I had to trick into loving me.

I opened my mouth to reply, to defend myself, but my mom beat me to it.

“Oh, please, don’t be silly,” she said, her voice dripping with faux amusement. “(Y/N)’s not the type to chase after anyone. She’s always been so focused on her books and work.”

The words hit me like a slap, veiled as they were in a thin layer of praise. The crowd chuckled again, but the undertone of my mom’s statement hung in the air, heavy and cutting. I felt Nicholas shift beside me, his hand tightening around mine as he clenched his jaw.

“Actually,” Nicholas said, his voice calm but laced with a subtle edge that silenced the laughter immediately. He glanced around the room, his expression composed but firm. “I’d appreciate it if we could keep this lighthearted. (Y/N) doesn’t need to prove herself to anyone here.” His words cut through the tension, a quiet command that made my mom blink in surprise. She opened her mouth to respond, but Nicholas wasn’t finished.

“And just for the record,” he added, his tone softening as he looked at me, “(Y/N) didn’t stalk me,” he shot a glare to my cousins as he spoke, his tone stern yet sassy, “She didn’t even know who I was when we met. And I was the one that made the first move, not that that’s anybody’s business.”

The air seemed to thicken with Nicholas’s words, his voice carrying a quiet power that left the room frozen. My cousins exchanged wide-eyed glances, their earlier smirks fading into sheepish expressions. My mom, for once, was speechless, her usual charm faltering under Nicholas’s unwavering gaze.

“Honestly,” he continued, his tone sharpening ever so slightly as he turned his attention to my mom, “(Y/N) is incredible. She doesn’t need anyone’s validation, least of all mine, to prove that.”

The silence that followed was deafening. My mom’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she opened her mouth, likely to recover her dominance over the situation, but Nicholas still wasn’t done.

“I’m here because I wanted to meet the people who are important to her,” he said, his voice softening now, but his intensity unwavering. “So maybe we can just focus on enjoying the day.”

His words were measured but deliberate, leaving no room for rebuttal. It was like watching him in his element, his performance masterful and commanding, but there was no pretense in his words. He meant every syllable, and it hit me as deeply as it seemed to hit the rest of the room.

My mom looked like she was struggling to find a response, her lips pressing together in a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course,” she finally said, her voice a little too high-pitched. “I was just having a bit of fun.”

Nicholas nodded curtly, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. He turned back to me, his eyes softening immediately as he reached for my hand again. “You okay?” he asked quietly, his thumb brushing against my knuckles.

I swallowed hard, my throat thick with emotion. It was like I was seeing him in a completely new light — one that was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. There was something undeniably magnetic about his protectiveness, the way he’d stepped in and taken control of a situation that had left me feeling so small.

At the same time, there was an edge to him I hadn’t fully seen before. His confidence, the calculated precision of his words, the subtle yet sharp glint in his eyes — it was almost unnerving how easily he’d dominated the room. It was as though, for just a moment, the meticulous precision and simmering danger of Patrick Bateman had seeped into the real Nicholas. The polished charm that usually radiated from him had slipped, revealing something darker, more primal. It was intoxicating.

I knew he wouldn’t be able to shed the layers of playing Patrick Bateman in his new movie so quickly, especially during a two-week break when he had to return to filming afterwards. The sharp edge to his voice, the way his jaw tightened when my mom made her snide remarks, the deliberate pause before he spoke as if calculating the exact impact his words would have — it was all so… deliberate. Controlled. Powerful. The kind of presence that commanded attention without needing to raise his voice.

And then there was the way he looked at me. When he asked if I was okay, his eyes softened, his protective warmth flooding through me, but there was still a glint there — something unreadable. It wasn’t anger. No, this was something deeper, more complex. It was like he had momentarily stepped into Bateman’s shoes, harnessing the ruthlessness of the character, but redirected it into something strangely noble. For my sake. I was touched.

As the rest of the family awkwardly resumed their conversations, I tugged Nicholas’s hand lightly and led him to a quieter corner of the backyard. His body language shifted instantly, his shoulders relaxing as he turned to face me, his expression softening further.

“Thank you, Nic,” I murmured, my voice barely audible above the hum of conversation.

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment before his lips quirked into a faint smile. “For what? Stating the obvious?”

I huffed out a breath of laughter, shaking my head. “You know what I mean.”

His smile grew, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wasn’t going to stand there and let them treat you like that. Especially your mom. I could take it at dinner last night, but seeing her do it to you so easily….” He trailed off. “She should be building you up, not tearing you down.”

Not that I was ungrateful for him stepping in, but I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you okay?” tilting my head to meet his gaze.

His expression flickered, surprise flashing briefly before he nodded. “Of course,” he said, his tone gentle now. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I hesitated, unsure if I should bring it up. “There’s an edge to you lately. Not that I don’t like it, because I do,” I stifled a chuckle, “I just wanna make sure you’re not overworking yourself too much for this movie,” I said as I cupped his face in my hands.

He let out a breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just hard to shake, you know? Especially when everything about Patrick feels so effortless. And his controlling nature is so…”

I searched his face, trying to find the right words to ease the tension I could see building in him. “You’re an incredible actor,” I said softly. “And part of what makes you so good is that you give everything to your characters. But that doesn’t mean they define you. Patrick is just a role, Nic. A role you’re crushing, by the way,” I added with a small smirk. “And, believe me, I know that you like the control,” I teased, referring to our earlier tryst.

Nicholas let out a low chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as his hands slid to my waist. “You’re not wrong,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar blend of mischief and warmth. “But trust me, any control I want is strictly consensual. And I’m pretty sure you don’t mind it.”

I felt my cheeks heat at his words, though I refused to back down. “I don’t,” I admitted with a grin, tilting my head to look up at him. “But just promise me you’ll keep Patrick on set.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve got nothing to worry about; I promise you.” He paused, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. “But thank you for keeping me grounded. I wish you could keep me in check while I filmed.”

My chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me like a warm embrace. “Always,” I said softly, standing on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

Nicholas returned the kiss, his hand cupping the back of my head as if to hold me there just a little longer. When we finally pulled apart, his eyes were lighter, the edge I’d noticed earlier softened by the moment.

“Come on,” he said, his voice taking on a playful tone as he laced his fingers with mine. “Let’s survive this cookout together. Then we can sneak away,” he whispered the last part in my ear, triggering a tickle in me.

As we rejoined the gathering, the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses enveloped us once again. But this time, I felt different. With Nicholas at my side, his hand in mine, the weight of the attention felt a little lighter, the lingering sting of my mom’s words a little less sharp. No one dared to tease me the rest of the night, even about things that had nothing to do with Nicholas. I was grateful for his protection. Though, I could feel my mom staring daggers at me, not quite amused that Nicholas had managed to turn something around on her.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polite conversation, laughter, and the usual family dynamics. Nicholas, ever the charmer, easily integrated himself into the flow, helping with the grill, chatting with my cousins, and winning my dad over more with his knowledge of football. If he noticed my mom’s thinly veiled irritation, he didn’t show it, handling her with the same calm poise that had disarmed her earlier.

Later that night, after the guests had trickled out and the dishes had been cleaned up, Nicholas and I lingered outside staring up at the stars. That’s when I thought maybe I should bring out my phone from charging so Nicholas and I could take a few photos of each other. Going inside and passing by my parents’ room, I heard their voices, low but unmistakably tense.

“I still think he was out of line,” my mom said, her tone clipped. “It’s one thing to defend her, but he didn’t need to make a spectacle of it in front of everyone.”

My dad’s response was immediate, his voice firm but calm. “He didn’t make a spectacle. He stood up for her because you pushed her too far. What were you thinking, making those comments?”

I froze outside the door, my heart pounding as I strained to hear.

“It was harmless teasing. You know how my family and I are,” my mom insisted. “It’s not my fault if she’s too sensitive.”

“It wasn’t harmless,” my dad countered, his tone sharpening. “You embarrassed her in front of the whole family. Nicholas was right to call you out. And even if (Y/N) was too sensitive, you taught her to be that way.”

I knocked on the door lightly before pushing the door open. “What are you guys talking about?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Because it sounds like you’re debating whether Nicholas was wrong to stand up for me.”

My mom sighed, clearly exasperated. “(Y/N), no one’s saying he shouldn’t have defended you,” she spoke as she lathered her legs up with her lotion, “but he could have done it more… tactfully. Calling attention to it just made it worse.”

“Worse for you, you mean,” I snapped, stepping further into the room. “The fact that you made me feel like some awkward charity case in front of everyone? Or that you couldn’t resist making my relationship with Nicholas the punchline of your little jokes?”

Her expression faltered for a moment before she straightened, her voice adopting that overly calm tone she always used when she felt cornered. “I was just trying to lighten the mood. It wasn’t meant to hurt you.“

“Well, it did,” I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “And you didn’t even apologize. Nicholas was the only one who had my back tonight, and now you’re mad at him for it?”

“I’m not mad,” she insisted, though her tone betrayed her. “I just think he could have handled it better. It’s not his place to—”

“Not his place?” My dad interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “That young man cares about our daughter. He didn’t raise his voice or make a scene. He handled it exactly as he should have — better than I would have, to be honest.” I looked at my dad, surprised by the fire in his voice. He turned to me, his expression softening. “Nicholas did the right thing, sweetheart. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad he did. I should’ve stepped in; I didn’t know your mom would do that in front of everybody.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and I blinked them away quickly. “Thanks, Dad.”

He nodded, his gaze steady as he turned back to my mom. “You owe her an apology. And you need to think about how your words come across. You’ve done this before.”

“I—” My mom started to protest but stopped herself. She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine. I’m sorry, (Y/N). If I hurt you, it wasn’t intentional.”

The apology felt half-hearted, but it was something. I nodded, not trusting myself to say much more without breaking down. “Goodnight,” I said finally, turning to leave.

As I walked out, I heard my dad’s voice again, low but firm. “You need to let her grow up. She’s not a child.”

I didn’t stick around to hear her response. Instead, I headed back outside to join Nicholas under the lit pergola. He was leaning against the wooden post of the pergola, his head tilted back as he gazed up at the stars. The soft glow of the string lights gave him a golden halo, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the relaxed curve of his lips. He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of the tension that had just played out inside.

I stepped forward, my footsteps crunching on the gravel, and his eyes shifted to meet mine. His smile was immediate, warm and inviting, but it faltered slightly as he studied my face. “Hey,” he said softly, straightening. “You okay?”

I nodded as I reached him, but the words were caught in my throat. His expression tightened with concern, and he took my hand, pulling me closer.

“Talk to me,” he urged, his voice steady but filled with worry.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the jumble of emotions swirling inside me. “I overheard my parents talking,” I admitted, glancing at the ground. “About you. About tonight.” Nicholas’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, but he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue. “My mom thinks you were out of line for standing up for me,” I said, my voice small. 

His brow furrowed, a flash of frustration crossing his features. “I didn’t mean to—”

I cut him off, shaking my head. “No, Nic. That’s not… I don’t think you were out of line,” I clarified, my voice firm. “In fact, I think you handled it perfectly.”

His gaze softened, but he still looked uncertain. “Then what’s bothering you?”

I hesitated, my eyes darting back to the house before returning to him. “It’s not just about tonight,” I confessed. “Things with my mom have been tense for a while. She has this way of… I don’t know, making me feel small. Like I’m not good enough, or like I need to justify every decision I make.” I paused, my throat tightening. “And now, with you here, it feels like everything’s about to boil over. Like it’s all going to explode at any minute.”

Nicholas frowned, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek. “Hey,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against my skin. “None of this is your fault. Your mom’s behavior isn’t okay, but it doesn’t reflect on you, and it sure as hell doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

I blinked back tears, leaning into his touch. “I just don’t want you to think you’re the reason for any of this tension,” I murmured. “It’s been building for a long time. You standing up for me tonight… it meant more than you know. Really.”

Nicholas exhaled slowly, his other hand coming to rest on my waist. “I’ll admit, I don’t like seeing anyone treat you the way she did tonight. But this isn’t about me, (Y/N). It’s about you. You deserve to feel safe and supported, especially with your family. And if I made things worse by speaking up—”

“You didn’t,” I interrupted firmly, placing a hand over his chest. “If anything, you reminded me that I don’t have to take it. That it’s okay to expect better.”

He tilted his head, studying me intently. “You’ve always deserved better,” he said quietly. “You’re incredible, (Y/N). Anyone who doesn’t see that is blind.”

His words hit me square in the chest, and I felt my defenses crumble. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder as a tear slid down my cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “For being here. For standing up for me.”

Nicholas wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a warm, protective embrace. “Always,” he murmured against my hair. He was quiet for a moment, but then spoke up again, “Hey, I have an idea.” I pulled away from him, curious. “I know this cookout interrupted some of the plans you had for us today, but that’s over now and we still have some time left. Why don’t we continue our day together?”

I smiled at him, appreciating his effort to shift the mood. “Yeah,” I said softly, “I’d like that.”

Nicholas stepped back slightly, his hands resting on my hips as he looked at me expectantly. “Where to next?”

There was only one place I could think of — a spot I hadn’t shared with anyone else before. A place that was mine, where I’d always gone to feel at peace. “How do you feel about going for a drive? There’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

His eyes lit up with curiosity. “I’m intrigued. But why don’t I drive us this time? Give you a break?”

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I appreciate it, but this is one of those drives you just have to feel. Trust me; I’ll explain along the way.” Nicholas studied me for a moment, then nodded, his curiosity only growing.

We got into the car, and as soon as I turned the engine on, I felt a sense of relief. I’m glad Nicholas suggested we continue our day together, allowing me to forget what happened earlier.

The first few minutes of the drive were quiet, the only sounds coming from the hum of the car and the faint echoes of cicadas in the distance. The air was warm, the faint scent of barbecue still lingering as we left the neighborhood. I rolled down the windows slightly, letting the cool breeze sweep through the car.

“The beach?” Nicholas asked after a while, his gaze flicking to the road signs as we approached the causeway over the bay.

I’m sure he remembered the drive to the island from when he first visited those 10 months ago. I always wondered what went through his head when he first arrived here for that weekend.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing at him briefly before returning my focus to the road. “There’s a spot at the end of the island I think you’ll love. It’s… peaceful. Feels like the edge of the world sometimes.”

Nicholas leaned back in his seat, his eyes drifting out the window. “Sounds perfect.”

The drive over the causeway was always my favorite part. The bridge rose high over the bay, the water stretching endlessly on either side, shimmering under the moonlight. It felt like entering another world, a quiet escape from the noise and chaos of reality.

“The beach means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” he asked softly, breaking the silence.

I nodded. “It does. My family used to come out here all the time. Over time, the trips became more sporadic until we stopped visiting completely. When I first started driving, I promised myself to visit as often as I could, even if it was just for a couple of hours. It’s like the ocean… resets me, I guess.”

Nicholas turned to me, his expression thoughtful. He reached out to squeeze my thigh, “It means a lot to me, too.”

I glanced over to him, knowing what he had meant. The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten, and I couldn’t help but smile.

We drove in comfortable silence for a while longer. At some point, we had driven past the hotel where we first met, the both of us squeezing each other’s hands as we passed by it. The streets grew quieter as we left the main part of the island behind. The road narrowed, the buildings thinning out until there was nothing but dunes on either side of us.

The headlights cut through the darkness as the road turned into a hauntingly quiet path bordered by dunes on either side, high and low. The sand on the road danced around like snakes in grass, side to side gracefully with a rhythmic pattern.  The air was crisp with the salty tang of the ocean, growing stronger with each passing mile. The farther we drove, the more the world seemed to fall away, leaving nothing but the sound of the engine and the rhythmic crash of waves faintly echoing in the distance.

Nicholas rolled down his window further, letting the cool air sweep into the car. “The ocean sounds so close,” he murmured, his voice quiet, as if not to disturb the tranquility outside.

I smiled, focusing on the road ahead as it started to blend with the sand. “That’s when you know you’re almost there.”

The headlights illuminated patches of sea oats swaying gently on the dunes, their slender stalks casting long, delicate shadows. In the distance, to our right, the moonlight shimmered on the surface of the water, breaking through the gaps in the dunes. The scene was hauntingly beautiful, the kind of place that felt untouched by time.

Eventually, the pavement started to blend into the sand, a yellow sign on the side reading ‘Road Ends Here’ to warn drivers. I slowed the car to a stop, pulling over right at the end of the road and switching off the car. The car settled into the stillness, the sound of the engine fading into the background as the night took over. The stars above were brilliant, like shiny, little fish in a dark ocean.

I turned to Nicholas, a slight smirk on my face, “Wanna guess what they call this place?”

Nicholas turned his head to me, a curious smile playing on his lips. “Hmm,” he murmured, glancing out at the scene before us. The moonlight painted the sand dunes in soft silver, the ocean beyond dark and infinite, stretching into the horizon. “Something dramatic. Maybe… The Edge of the World?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Close, but not quite. They call it The End of the Road.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting the words sink in as his gaze drifted back to the landscape. “Fitting,” he said softly.

I nodded, the wind catching my hair as I reached for the door handle. “Come on, you’ve gotta experience it outside the car.”

Nicholas followed my lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The sand shifted beneath my bare feet as I walked toward the crest of a nearby dune, the sound of the waves growing louder with each step. Nicholas trailed behind me, his shoes crunching softly against the sand until he paused to kick them off.

The sound of the ocean was a constant rhythm, steady and soothing, as if the world itself was breathing. The vast openness of it all made me feel small in the best way, like every worry and frustration from earlier had been swept away with the tide.

“This is unreal,” Nicholas said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He stopped beside me, his hands resting on his hips as he took it all in. The wind tousled his hair, and for a moment, he looked like he belonged here, like he was part of the landscape.

I turned to him, watching his expression soften as he gazed out at the ocean. “It’s my favorite place,” I admitted, my voice carrying an edge of vulnerability. “Whenever I need to clear my head, this is where I come. There’s just something about being here that makes everything else feel… smaller.”

We stood there for a while, letting the stillness envelop us. The only sounds were the gentle crash of waves and the faint rustle of the dunes in the wind. I felt a sense of peace settle over me, the weight of the day finally lifting.

“This might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever been,” Nicholas said after a long silence, his voice tinged with awe.

His sincerity made my heart tighten, and I smiled, reaching out to take his hand. Nicholas squeezed my hand, pulling me closer until our shoulders touched. The silence between us felt comfortable as we walked further toward the shoreline, the soft crunch of sand beneath our feet blending with the rhythmic crash of the waves. Nicholas slowed his pace, his gaze fixed on the waves that lapped at the sand with a steady, soothing cadence. I glanced at him, the corners of my lips tugging into a soft smile at the awe in his expression. He looked completely at peace, his usual confidence tempered by a quiet wonder. It wasn’t a side of him I got to see often, and I found myself savoring it.

When we reached a spot where the sand felt cooler and damp underfoot, I stopped and motioned for us to sit. Without a word, we sank onto the ground, the soft grains shifting beneath us. I stretched my legs out, my fingers absently trailing through the sand, while Nicholas propped his elbows on his knees, leaning slightly forward as he watched the waves roll in and out.

Neither of us spoke, and we didn’t need to. The ocean filled the silence between us, its endless rhythm steady and grounding. The stars above seemed brighter here, unspoiled by the town lights.

After a while, Nicholas turned his head to look at me. His brown eyes softened, his lips curving into a faint smile. I smiled back, my heart swelling. He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine in the sand before he intertwined them gently. The warmth of his touch was grounding, even as my pulse quickened at the simple gesture. For a while, we just sat there, our hands loosely clasped, the ocean stretching endlessly before us.

Then, slowly, he turned to me fully, his free hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face. His gaze lingered, intense but tender, as if he were memorizing every detail. “Thank you for bringing me here,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

The sincerity in his words left me momentarily speechless. All I could do was smile and nod, my throat too tight to trust my voice. He didn’t look away, his eyes searching mine for something unspoken.

And then he leaned in.

It was slow, deliberate, like he was giving me every chance to close the space between us. I met him halfway, our lips brushing softly at first, tentative and sweet, before deepening into something more. His hand slid to the back of my neck, anchoring me to him as the kiss grew more passionate, the world around us fading into the background. The taste of salt lingered on his lips, a perfect complement to the cool breeze that swirled around us. My fingers found their way into his hair, tangling there as I lost myself in him, in the moment, in the feeling of being completely and utterly seen.

When we finally pulled apart, the only sounds were the waves and the rapid thrum of my heart. Nicholas rested his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine. My chest tightened, a mix of overwhelming affection. Nicholas shifted slightly, his hand still resting against my cheek as he pulled me closer. His touch was no longer tentative; it was insistent, a magnetic pull that I couldn’t resist. His lips found mine again, this time with a passion that made my head spin. The world around us dissolved, leaving only the heat between us and the cool sand beneath. I leaned into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders as the kiss deepened. His fingers slid into my hair, tilting my head back as his lips trailed down to my jaw, then to the sensitive skin of my neck. A soft gasp escaped me, and I felt his grip tighten, his need mirroring my own.

The cool breeze from the ocean contrasted sharply with the warmth radiating between us, heightening every sensation. Nicholas’s lips continued their descent, lingering on my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. His hand skimmed my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. His voice was low, almost reverent, filled with equal parts desire and restraint.

I shook my head, my hands tightening on his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” I whispered, my voice trembling but certain.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Nicholas shifted, laying me back gently onto the sand. His weight pressed against me in the most intoxicating way, grounding me even as my senses seemed to scatter. The stars above us felt impossibly close, their light mingling with the moon’s glow and the shadows of our movements.

His hand slid under the hem of my shirt, his fingers grazing my skin with a lightness that left me breathless. I arched into his touch, my hands sliding under his own shirt, exploring the planes of his back, the warmth of his skin beneath my palms. He groaned softly at the contact, his lips returning to mine with a renewed urgency.

The waves crashed in the background, their rhythm a steady pulse that matched the quickening beat of my heart. Nicholas’s hands were everywhere — tracing, exploring, learning every inch of me as if he couldn’t get enough. Each touch, each kiss, was deliberate, as though he was trying to memorize the moment, the way we fit together.

His fingers found the button of my jeans, hesitating for a heartbeat as his eyes sought mine. I met his gaze, nodding, my breath hitching as I helped him slide the fabric away. The cool air kissed my exposed skin, but the warmth of his touch quickly chased away any chill.

The sand beneath us was soft, molding to our shapes as we moved together, the lines between where he ended and I began blurring with every shared breath. His name fell from my lips in a soft gasp as his hands traveled lower, his touch setting me alight in ways I didn’t know were possible.

The tension between us thickened, the air charged with the electricity of anticipation. Nicholas moved with deliberate care, his every touch igniting a fire beneath my skin. His lips found mine again, their urgency undeniable as his hands pulled down at my underwear. He pulled away from my lips, looking down at me as he undid the zipper and button of his pants, pulling his pants and briefs down just enough to free himself.

He settled between my legs, looking down at me with such commitment that my breath hitched, and for a second, I grew timid under him. His hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing along my jaw as though grounding himself in the moment.

The sand shifted beneath us as he adjusted his position, his body lowering slightly to meet mine. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear as his hands guided my legs around his hips. His touch was steady but unhurried, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, sending waves of anticipation coursing through me. The weight of him against me, coupled with the cool sand beneath, grounded me in ways I hadn’t expected.

He exhaled deeply, his hands tightening on my hips as he inserted himself, his movements slow and deliberate. I gasped softly, my hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders as he stilled for a moment, his forehead pressing against mine. His breath came in shallow, uneven waves, matching the fluttering of my pulse. For a fleeting second, everything felt suspended — the stars above, the restless ocean, even time itself — until he moved again, his motions slow and purposeful.

Every sensation was amplified—the way his hands gripped my hips, firm yet tender; the way his lips brushed against my temple, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He was careful, attentive, his movements speaking of restraint and reverence. It was a complete 180 from this morning, and I loved both versions of him.

Nicholas whispered my name, his voice low and thick, the sound vibrating through me like a prayer. I tilted my head back, my eyes closing as the waves in the distance seemed to echo the rhythm of our bodies. His movements quickened, the controlled precision of his thrusting giving way to something rawer, more urgent.

My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as I felt the tension within him build, his control slipping. The vulnerability in his gaze as he looked down at me, his brows furrowed in concentration, made my chest tighten.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice trembling, as though the words were the only thing grounding him.

The words struck me like a lightning bolt, sending a ripple of warmth coursing through me. Nicholas shifted slightly, his grip on my hips firm but gentle as he pulled me closer, deepening the connection between us. His forehead pressed against mine again, his breath warm and uneven. I could feel the tremble in his hands, the tension in his body as though he was holding something back, trying to pace himself. He whispered my name again, his voice barely audible, and it sent another shiver through me.

The crescendo between us built, a perfect harmony of movement and emotion, until it finally crested like a wave, leaving us both trembling in its wake. Nicholas collapsed against me, his weight grounding me as his breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. My fingers traced idle patterns along his back, grounding myself in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine.

We stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in the stillness, the sounds of the ocean surrounding us. Nicholas lifted his head slightly, his hand brushing gently against my cheek. His eyes were soft, a mix of love and hesitation lingering in their depths.

Nicholas had driven us home that night, letting me nap in the car as he held me by my thigh the entire way. When we finally arrived home, the hum of the car’s engine quieted as Nicholas turned it off. He squeezed my thigh gently, a silent reassurance as I blinked myself awake, the world around me still tinged with the haze of exhaustion and contentment.

“We’re here,” he said softly, his voice low and warm. I nodded, my body heavy with the aftereffects of the evening. The beach, the intimacy, the weight of emotions — it all lingered like a soft buzz beneath my skin, the tension between my mom and I long forgotten.

Nicholas helped me out of the car, steadying me with his arm around my waist. The night air was cool against my flushed cheeks, and I leaned into him instinctively, letting his strength guide me inside. The house was quiet, my parents presumably asleep or silently fuming over the events of the day. Either way, I was grateful for the stillness.

As we stepped into my room, the door clicking softly shut behind us, Nicholas paused. He turned to face me, his hands resting lightly on my hips as his eyes searched mine. “You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, a tired but genuine smile tugging at my lips. “I’m better now,” I said, resting my forehead against his chest. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, and I let out a content sigh, the tension in my body finally beginning to dissipate.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I nodded again, too drained to argue, as he gently led me toward the bed. I kicked off my shoes, and he helped me out of my clothes, his hands careful and unhurried.

Nicholas pulled back the covers, and I slid beneath them, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth of the room. He moved to the other side, quickly shedding his own shirt and jeans before slipping in beside me. The bed dipped under his weight, and he pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me like a cocoon as I drifted to sleep. And if I had known that the day after would be a disaster, I wouldn’t have woken up.

The morning came far too quickly, the soft light filtering through the curtains stirring me awake. Nicholas’s arm was draped over my waist, his steady breathing warm against the back of my neck. But as my mind sharpened, the memory of yesterday crept back in, and with it, the weight of the inevitable confrontation with my mom. My stomach twisted at the thought, the familiar anxiety bubbling to the surface. Today was New Year’s Eve, and while the party preparations would serve as a distraction, I knew it was only a matter of time before the tension boiled over. It’s the only thing that ever happens during holiday parties.

Nicholas stirred behind me, his arm tightening slightly as he pressed a sleepy kiss to my shoulder. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” I replied softly, turning to face him. His eyes were still half-closed, his hair adorably tousled. Even in the midst of my unease, I couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied my expression.

“I mean, I slept, but it doesn’t feel like I did,” I stifled a chuckle. “I still feel… tense.”

Nicholas’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “Remember, I’ve got you,” he said firmly. “And you’ve got me.”

His words were a balm to my nerves, and I leaned in to kiss him, letting the simple gesture convey my gratitude. “Thank you,” I whispered against his lips.

We stayed like that for a few more minutes, not wanting to move, but the promise of today’s plans had coaxed Nicholas out of bed. “Okay,” he slid out from under the covers, clapping his hands, his muscles flexing with every movement, “Double-time. It’s New Year’s Eve,” he smiled.

That morning, my dad announced his plan to take Nicholas and my brothers out to pick up fireworks for the party.

“Are you guys up for an adventure?” my dad said as he walked into the kitchen, a playful grin spreading across his face. He leaned against the counter, eyeing Nicholas and my brothers. “We’re going to pick up fireworks for tonight. Biggest haul we can find, best show we can put on. You in, Nicholas?”

Nicholas’s face lit up like a kid being handed the keys to a candy store. “Absolutely. Count me in,” he spoke, his voice brimming with excitement.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, especially when he turned to me with an almost boyish grin, as if asking for permission. “Go,” I said, nudging him playfully.

My dad clapped Nicholas on the shoulder, clearly pleased. The men all exchanged grins as they grabbed their coats and prepared to leave. Nicholas bent down to kiss me on the cheek before heading out the door. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised, his hand lingering on mine for a moment before he followed my dad and brothers out.

As the door closed behind them, the house felt strangely quiet. I sighed, turning to the pile of decorations still waiting to be hung. Being left alone with my mom wasn’t ideal, but I appreciated that my dad had gone out of his way to include Nicholas. It wasn’t just about fireworks; it was about making Nicholas feel like part of the family.

And I’m sure it was his way of apologizing for what happened last night, for ever letting my mom go as far as she did with her comments without stopping her, and forcing Nicholas to interject. I’m sure watching what happened had hurt my dad, as well, knowing how he had never liked it when my mom shifted her scrutiny onto someone else, especially me.

I could see the guilt etched on his face as Nicholas stepped in to defend me. He had stood by, likely unsure of how to intervene without escalating the situation, and I couldn’t entirely blame him. My mom was a force of nature — headstrong and relentless in her need to control the narrative of every family gathering. But my dad had always been the quiet counterbalance to her sharp edges. Where my mom used her voice to dominate a room, my dad used his to steady it. He’d always been the one to pull me aside after a heated moment with her, offering a hug or a reassuring word when I felt small. Last night, though, he hadn’t had a chance to step in before Nicholas did, and I could tell it weighed on him.

Including Nicholas in their “guys’ trip” today was his way of making things right — not just with me but with Nicholas, too. My dad was old-fashioned in the best way; he believed that shared experiences were what built trust. And nothing screamed bonding more than taking a group of men out to buy enough fireworks to light up the entire neighborhood. Nicholas fit in so effortlessly, and his excitement about today’s plans only made me love him more. I could picture him now, standing with my dad and brothers in front of some over-the-top fireworks display, probably offering to carry the heaviest boxes or cracking a joke to ease any awkwardness.

I appreciated how Nicholas didn’t just see me — he saw my family, even the complicated parts of it, and he was willing to embrace it all. My dad clearly appreciated it, too. As much as I knew he loved me, my dad had always been reserved when it came to my relationships, carefully observing from a distance. But with Nicholas, I could sense a shift. There was a warmth in the way he talked to him, a respect that had been given wholeheartedly.

The sound of the front door shutting jolted me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see my mom stepping into the living room with a box of decorations in hand. “Ready to spruce the house up?” She asked with a smile, almost genuine this time.

I nodded, brushing my hands against my jeans as I stood. “Yeah. Let’s get started.”

For a while, we worked in relative silence. The house was already half-transformed, twinkling lights strung along the walls and a table in the dining room piled high with party supplies. I busied myself with hanging garlands and arranging centerpieces, determined to keep the peace. But my mom, of course, couldn't resist making her usual remarks.

“So, Nicholas seems... intense," she said casually, handing me a string of lights. Her tone was light, but the pointed edge was impossible to miss.

I paused, glancing at her before continuing to wrap the lights around the column. "He's passionate," I replied evenly, refusing to take the bait.

“Passionate," she echoed with a faint smirk. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

I bit back a sigh, focusing on the task at hand. "He's a good person, Mom. He cares about me. That's what matters."

She hummed in response, her eyes narrowing slightly as she adjusted a vase on the mantle. "I'm sure he does. But don't you think it's a little... much?”

I turned to face her, my patience wearing thin. "He stood up for me because you put me in a position where I needed someone to stand up for me," I said quietly but firmly.

Her expression hardened, the faint smile vanishing from her lips. "I was joking, (Y/N). You're too sensitive."

"Maybe you're too cruel," I shot back before I could stop myself.

The silence that followed was deafening, tension crackling in the air like static electricity. My mom straightened, her posture stiff as she fixed me with a cold stare. "I'm only trying to help you," she said tightly. "You don't see it now, but you will.“

There it was. Those few calculated words that could disarm me at a moment’s notice. I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar weight of her words settle on my shoulders. My mom had perfected the art of spinning everything to make herself the victim while simultaneously positioning her actions as some twisted version of “help.”

I swallowed the rising lump in my throat, deciding once again to bite back the sharp retort I could feel forming on my tongue. “Let’s just focus on finishing this,” I muttered, turning back to the decorations and forcing my hands to steady as I worked.

The rest of the setup passed in a strained silence, the unspoken tension between us lingering like a storm cloud. The house transformed gradually as the day unfolded, taking on the appearance of a holiday wonderland with every light, garland, and carefully placed decoration. Twinkling string lights were draped across every available surface, casting a warm, golden glow that softened the sharp edges of the tension simmering beneath the surface. The dining table became a centerpiece of abundance, laden with platters of hors d’oeuvres, bowls of brightly colored dips, and towers of flaky pastries waiting to be devoured. Candles flickered on every available surface, their flames dancing in time with the faint hum of music playing in the background. The scent of pine, cinnamon, and something sweet — cookies, perhaps — filled the air.

The backyard was similarly transformed, fairy lights strung between the trees and along the fence, creating an almost magical atmosphere. Tables and chairs were set up on the lawn, each adorned with crisp white tablecloths and small centerpieces of fresh flowers and sprigs of eucalyptus. A small fire pit had been prepared in the far corner, surrounded by cozy chairs and blankets for those who might venture outside when the evening chill set in. The focal point of the yard was the stage my dad had insisted on setting up for the fireworks. It was a modest affair — a few raised wooden planks decorated with strings of red, white, and silver bunting — but it was enough to hold the stockpile of fireworks he and the guys would inevitably bring back. Nearby, a cooler brimmed with drinks, its contents glittering with condensation.

It was beautiful, objectively perfect even, the kind of setting that would make for a stunning photo or a magazine spread. But beneath the glitter and glow, the cracks in the foundation remained, and I desperately wanted Nicholas back home.

As the afternoon turned into evening, I retreated to my room to get ready. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, carefully applying makeup to cover the exhaustion I felt creeping into my features. A soft blush, a swipe of mascara, and a bold lip color — it was enough to present a polished exterior, even if my nerves were unraveling underneath.

The sound of the first guests arriving reached me before I stepped out of my room, their laughter and chatter mingling with the faint strains of music that floated through the halls. Upon leaving my room, I was struck by how effortlessly the house had shifted into party mode. Every detail created the perfect atmosphere of warmth and celebration, to which I was hoping I could participate in without the nerves gnawing at my stomach.

Guests mingled in the living room, their voices overlapping in a pleasant hum. Some had already taken to the backyard, where the fire pit flickered against the darkening sky. The clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter punctuated the air as people toasted to the end of the year. The energy was contagious, a current of excitement that made it easier to push aside my earlier unease.

By then, Nicholas, my dad, and brothers returned from buying fireworks. Nicholas had quickly found me amongst the guests, embracing me in a quick, warm hug, “Let me get dressed, and I’ll come find you again.”

I nodded, smiling as Nicholas disappeared toward my room, the soft tread of his footsteps a grounding reminder that he was here, with me.

As the minutes ticked by, the party atmosphere grew more vibrant. The house pulsed with life, a blend of festive energy and the rhythmic hum of voices overlapping one another. The entire neighborhood was basically all packed in here. The living room had become a hub of activity. Groups of guests lingered near the fireplace, where stockings from Christmas still hung, adding a nostalgic touch to the evening. The table of hors d’oeuvres in the dining room was a constant draw, the platters slowly depleting as guests indulged in bite-sized treats and toasted with champagne flutes that sparkled in the soft glow of the overhead chandelier.

Through the living room window, I could see that the backyard had turned into its own gathering space. The fire pit crackled merrily, surrounded by guests wrapped in light blankets. Children darted around the lawn, their laughter carrying through the air like the chiming of tiny bells. The fairy lights strung along the fences cast a golden glow over everything, making the scene look like something out of a holiday postcard.

Nicholas reappeared shortly after, dressed in a sharp navy blazer over a white shirt, his hair neatly combed but still carrying its usual slightly tousled charm. His presence immediately put me at ease, the tension from earlier melting away as he made his way through the crowd to my side.

“You look beautiful,” he relaxed into a sigh as his hands found my waist.

“How was hanging out with my dad and brothers?” I asked, resting my hands on the lapels of his blazer.

Nicholas’s lips quirked into a grin as he pulled me closer, his thumbs brushing lightly against my waist. “Honestly? It was great. Your dad’s got this calm, no-nonsense energy, and your brothers… well, let’s just say they made sure to warn me about what might happen if I ever hurt you.” He chuckled softly, a hint of affection in his tone. “But they were kidding. I think.”

I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at my lips. “Maybe,” I shrugged my shoulders, letting out a soft laugh. “I don’t know. They’ve never really had a chance to tell that to anybody else before.”

Nicholas laughed with me, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping. “Well, I’m honored. I think?” He kissed my forehead, his gesture grounding me amid the swirl of the party.

The moment felt safe, a brief pocket of calm in the chaos around us. I leaned into him, letting myself enjoy the quiet reassurance of his presence. But the peace was short-lived, as it always seemed to be when my mom was nearby.

I caught sight of her moving through the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning the room like she was mentally cataloging everything out of place. The sight of her was enough to set my nerves buzzing again, and I reluctantly pulled away from Nicholas, smoothing my dress as I did.

“Come on,” I said, forcing a smile. “Let’s make the rounds.”

We wove through the crowd together, exchanging pleasantries with family friends and neighbors. Nicholas was effortlessly charming, his laugh infectious as he listened to stories and humored even the most insistent questions about his career. For a while, it felt easy — normal, even. I almost forgot about the inevitable tension that had been building all day.

Almost.

The moment came during a lull in the party when most of the guests had either drifted outside to the fire pit or gathered in the backyard to admire the fireworks my dad started to light about an hour before midnight. There was a slow, rhythmic boom every few minutes. Obviously, he was saving the bulk for midnight.

I was in the kitchen, refilling a tray of snacks, when my mom appeared behind me, her presence as sharp and cutting as a blade. She seemed meek at first, acting as if she didn’t know what to say when she knew exactly what she was going to say. "I just want what's best for you, honey," she said softly. "I wish you could see that.”

I turned to face her, my jaw tightening at her feigned sweetness. “What’s best for me?” I repeated, my voice low but sharp. “You mean what you think is best for me, right? Because let’s be honest, Mom, you’ve never actually cared about what I want.”

Her expression hardened in an instant, the veneer of concern slipping to reveal the cold edge beneath. “You’re too young to understand,” she said evenly, crossing her arms. “Nicholas is… exciting now, sure. But men like him don’t settle down. They don’t build lives with girls like you. They don’t stick around; they never do.”

I felt the anger rising in my chest like a tidal wave. The party sounds in the background seemed distant, muted against the roaring in my ears. “Enough,” I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.

My mom blinked, her smile freezing in place as the room seemed to hold its breath.

"Excuse me?" she said, her tone clipped.

"You've made your point," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. "We all get it. Nicholas is amazing, and somehow, you're surprised I could end up with someone like him. But you don't have to keep pointing it out."

“I just don’t think Nicholas is right for you,” she cupped my face.

I swatted away her hand, turning my cheek, "That's not your decision to make," I said, my chest tightening with anger. "I'm an adult, Mom. Even if it doesn’t end up working with Nicholas, I’m allowed to make my own mistakes.”

My mom’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought she might back down. But then she squared her shoulders, her voice cold and cutting as she spoke. "Maybe it's time you proved that," she said. "If you think you're so grown up, then act like it. Move out. You’re 23 years old, for god’s sake.“

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I stared at her in disbelief. "You're kicking me out?" I asked, my voice trembling.

My mom didn’t flinch. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her gaze unwavering. “It’s the only way you’ll see that I’ve only ever tried to protect you.”

My breath caught in my throat as the reality of her words settled over me like a suffocating weight. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure, but the anger and hurt bubbling inside me were impossible to suppress. “You think this is protection?” I said, my voice shaking. “You think controlling every part of my life and tearing down the people I love is protecting me?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. “You’re not ready for the real world.”

The roar of blood in my ears drowned out the hum of the party beyond the kitchen. But no matter how angry I was, the sadness in me broke through first, turning me into a bubble of tears as I continued to speak, my voice cracking all the while, “You don’t get to live your life through me and then punish me when I want to make my own decisions.”

I heard the faint creak of the sliding door behind us from across the living room, and before I could process it, Nicholas’s calm but firm voice broke through the tension. “What’s going on?” He asked as he slowly crossed over to the kitchen.

Both my mom and I turned, her face twisting into a mask of forced civility, while mine burned with humiliation and fury. Nicholas’s gaze flicked between the two of us, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer.

“This is between me and my daughter,” my mom said quickly, her voice strained with a brittle kind of authority. “It doesn’t concern you.”

Nicholas’s brow furrowed as he looked at me, his hand finding the small of my back. “If you’re talking about me and our relationship, it does concern me,” he said, his tone steady but edged with warning.

I interjected, not wanting this to escalate between my mom and Nicholas. Even with our arguing, I didn’t want my mom to hate him. A cruel wish, wasn’t it? “Nic…” I sniffled quietly, squeezing his hand to let him know this wasn’t his fight. It was mine and mine alone. I had to see this through. I turned to my mom, tears in my eyes, “Why can’t you just support me — us? You never controlled my brothers the way you control me,” I spoke, my voice calm. My mom opened her mouth to continue her arguing, but I interrupted her. “We’re not talking about this anymore if we’re just gonna keep arguing about the same thing over and over.”

By then, people started to trickle back into the house to grab their champagne glasses for the New Year’s countdown, giving my mom no opportunity to argue back. Instead, she flickered her gaze between Nicholas and I, watching him pull me closer to him before she rejoined the party.

As the living room filled with laughter and chatter once more, I clung to Nicholas’s side, grateful for his steady presence. He placed a protective hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently through the crowd. I could feel the weight of my mom’s glare on us, but I forced myself not to look back. The tension from the kitchen hung over me like a storm cloud, but I was determined not to let it ruin the rest of the night.

The countdown was already playing on the television, the screen flashing with the glittering ball in Times Square. While some guests gathered around inside, glasses of champagne in hand, Nicholas led me outside to the front of the house, away from the party happening at our house..

“You okay?” he asked softly, his breath warm against my ear.

I nodded, but the lump in my throat betrayed me. I leaned into him, letting his presence steady me. The cool night air hit my cheeks, a refreshing contrast to the stifling tension I’d just escaped. The street outside was alive with the quiet chaos of New Year’s Eve. Cars lined both sides, muffled music spilled from neighboring houses, and the occasional laughter of partygoers drifted through the air.

Nicholas tugged me gently toward the sidewalk, away from the trees that were blocking the sky. “You sure?” he pressed, his tone low and concerned. His hand found mine, his thumb tracing soft circles against my skin.

I exhaled, my breath visible in the crisp air. “It’s just a lot,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Just then, I could hear the faint chant of everybody counting down inside and in the backyard. Nicholas pressed a quick kiss to my temple, his touch grounding me as the crowd began chanting. “Ten… nine… eight…”

Nicholas tightened his arm around me, and I felt a rush of warmth. I looked up at him, his profile illuminated by the glow of a nearby street lamp, and my heart swelled.

“Three… two… one… Happy New Year!”

Just then the entire street erupted into a cacophony of fireworks for miles, the sky bursting with fiery colors that painted the darkness in brilliant hues of red, gold, and blue. The vibrant blooms of light sparkled and faded, giving way to more, as though the universe itself was celebrating.

I was unable to tear my gaze away from the sight above. The explosions seemed endless, each one more vibrant and dazzling than the last. Trails of glittering sparks cascaded down like falling stars, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire world had stopped to watch with me.

Nicholas turned to me, a soft smile on his lips as he cupped my face in his hands. “Happy New Year, baby,” he said, his voice low and intimate, meant only for me.

Before I could reply, he leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both tender and full of promise. The chaos of what had gone on inside melted away, leaving just the two of us in that moment. When we pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, and I could see the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the noise of the thunderous fireworks going off.

I blinked, taken aback. “What?”

Nicholas pulled back slightly, his hands still cradling my face. “Come back to New York with me,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “At least for a little while. There’s only a few weeks left of filming. I don’t want to leave you here; I want you to be with me, there.”

The words hit me like a wave, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. My mind raced, caught between the pull of his offer and the ties that still held me to this place. “Nicholas…” I started, my voice hesitant.

He shook his head, his thumbs brushing gently against my cheeks. “I know it’s sudden, with your job and everything,” he said quickly. “ I want you there with me, grounding me while I finish filming. And you deserve a fresh start, even if it’s just temporary. We can both get what we want.”

The sincerity in his eyes made my breath catch. I searched his face, my mind racing with a hundred conflicting thoughts. “I—”

He smiled, “You don’t have to decide right now,” he interrupted gently. His voice was soft, reassuring. “Just think about it.”

I nodded, feeling the lump in my throat return. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the fireworks. “I’ll think about it.”

Nicholas kissed my forehead again, his lips lingering for a moment. “That’s all I need,” he said softly, his arms wrapping around me as the sky continued to light up above us.

We stayed outside a little longer, the distant echo of cheers and music from neighboring houses blending with the vibrant bursts of color. We watched as the fireworks continued to burn until they stopped an hour or two later. Slowly but surely, people started to walk to their cars and leave to their own homes, the street growing lonelier and lonelier the more the night stretched on.

Later that night, as we lay in bed, the house finally quiet, I couldn’t sleep. Nicholas was next to me, his breathing deep and steady as his arm rested lightly across my waist. My thoughts churned as I stared at the ceiling, replaying the evening’s events. My mom’s words, her dismissal of my feelings, and then Nicholas’s offer — so simple, yet so monumental.

I turned to face him, the faint moonlight from the window casting soft shadows across his face. “Nic,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

His eyes opened slowly, a small smile playing on his lips as he focused on me. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, fluttering his eyes closed again, “You okay?”

I nodded, biting my lip. I took a deep breath, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I’ll go with you,” I said finally, my words soft.

Nicholas’s eyes fluttered open again, his brow furrowing slightly as if he was processing my words through the haze of sleep. Slowly, a soft smile curved his lips, and he pulled me closer, his arm tightening around my waist. He didn’t speak, but the way he buried his face against my shoulder, holding me like I was the only thing grounding him, said enough. I let my eyes close, exhaustion finally tugging me into sleep with the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling me.

The next day came. As if nothing had happened the day before, my mom announced she was going to the stores for a few hours to take advantage of any last minute New Year’s sales, which had given me the perfect opportunity to explain to my dad Nicholas’s and I’s plans.

My dad was in the garage when I found him, organizing empty boxes of holiday decorations to anticipate the day he and my mom would be taking everything down, which would come soon. He turned when he heard me step inside, his face lighting up with a small, warm smile. For a moment, I hesitated, not sure how to begin. My dad had always been my quiet confidant, the one person I could count on to listen without judgment. But this felt different.

I cleared my throat, stepping closer. He set down a plastic box of old Christmas lights he’d been holding and gave me his full attention, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. He didn’t speak, waiting patiently for me to find the words.

“Dad, I’m leaving with Nicholas. Not long, just some weeks,” I said finally, my voice quieter than I’d intended. The words felt heavy, hanging in the air between us.

My dad’s face softened, his expression unreadable for a moment. He glanced down at his hands, rubbing his palms together as if considering what to say. When he looked back at me, his eyes were filled with a mix of emotions — sadness, pride, and something else I couldn’t quite place. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. He reached out, pulling me into a tight hug, the kind that made me feel like a little kid again. His arms were strong, steady, and reassuring, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the comfort of it.

When he pulled back, his hands rested on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. There was a quiet acceptance there, a recognition that this was something I needed to do. He didn’t argue or try to convince me to stay. Instead, he gave me a small, almost bittersweet smile.

My dad had always been supportive in his own quiet way, and this moment was no different. I could see the sadness in his expression, the heartbreak of watching his daughter leave the home she’d grown up in. But there was pride, too, and an unspoken understanding that I was ready to take this step.

He walked with me back into the house, where Nicholas was waiting in the living room, flipping through the pages of a book he’d pulled from the shelf. My dad paused in the doorway, his gaze lingering on Nicholas for a moment before he stepped forward, extending a hand.

Nicholas stood quickly, setting the book aside as he shook my dad’s hand. There was a moment of silence between them, a subtle exchange that felt heavy with meaning. My dad gave Nicholas a nod, his grip firm, before letting go. There was no hostility, no doubt, just a quiet expectation that Nicholas would protect and cherish me in the way he knew I deserved. Nicholas seemed to understand, his own expression serious as he met my dad’s gaze. There was a promise in the way he nodded back, a silent vow that he would do right by me.

As my dad stepped back, giving us space, I felt a rush of gratitude for him. He had always been a steady presence in my life, quietly supporting me through every challenge. And now, as I prepared to leave, he was still that same unwavering pillar of strength.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of packing for the bitter chill of a January in New York. As I pulled out my suitcase from the back of my closet, a strange mix of emotions settled over me. The weight of what I was doing hit me fully as I began folding sweaters and tucking them neatly into the bag. Excitement and dread warred in my chest, a constant push and pull that made every movement feel heavier than it should have.

The thought of leaving home, even temporarily, filled me with an ache I hadn’t anticipated. This house had seen every version of me — the child who scraped her knees in the backyard, the teenager who hid away in her room to escape the chaos, and now, the adult preparing to walk out the door with no clear plan for what came next. I could feel the walls watching, as if they knew this moment carried more weight than I was ready to admit.

I was angry at my mom, yes, but leaving felt like I was giving up something I couldn’t quite name. Was it the hope that things could change? That she might finally see me, accept me for who I was instead of the version she wanted me to be? The thought made my chest tighten.

The sound of the front door opening jolted me from my thoughts. My mom was home. I froze, my hands hovering over the half-packed suitcase. For a moment, I considered closing the closet door and pretending I wasn’t doing this, but the heavy footfalls of her heels against the tile told me it was too late.

“(Y/N)?” she called out, her voice carrying through the house. “Where are you? Look at all the stuff I bought!”

“In here,” I called back, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Her footsteps grew louder until she appeared in the doorway of my room, shopping bags dangling from her arms. Her gaze landed on the suitcase instantly, and the shift in her expression was immediate. Confusion, then realization, and finally something that looked almost like regret.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tight.

“Packing,” I said simply, refusing to look away.

“For what?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not actually leaving.”

“You told me to move out,” I reminded her, my tone calm but firm. “So I’m going.”

Her laugh was sharp, almost incredulous. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t mean it.”

I straightened, the weight of her dismissal settling heavily on my chest. “You meant it in the moment, Mom. I won’t be gone long, but I’m choosing to leave either way.”

She stepped into the room, dropping the shopping bags onto the floor. “(Y/N),” she started, her tone softer now, almost pleading. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I was upset. It was the heat of the moment. You’re my daughter. Of course, I don’t want you to leave.”

For a second, I hesitated, her words tugging at the part of me that had always wanted her approval. But then I remembered the way she’d dismissed my feelings, the way she’d belittled me in front of everyone, and the sharp sting of her words the night before.

“You say you’ve done everything to protect me,” I replied quietly, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’m telling you right now that I don’t need it anymore. I’m ready for whatever the world has to offer — good and bad.”

Her face faltered, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a flash of guilt. Her lips parted as if to respond, but she hesitated, the words caught somewhere between her pride and regret. Finally, she sighed, the sound heavy and unfamiliar coming from her. “You’re serious about this,” she said, more to herself than to me.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I am.”

She stepped closer, her gaze softening in a way I hadn’t seen in years. For a moment, it was as if the weight of our complicated relationship melted away, leaving behind only the raw, unfiltered emotion of a mother seeing her child take a step she wasn’t ready for. “You’ve always been stubborn,” she said quietly, her voice trembling just slightly.

I didn’t reply, afraid that any words might shatter the fragile moment between us.

“I just…” she started, her voice breaking slightly before she composed herself. “I just don’t want you to make a mistake you can’t come back from.”

“I know,” I said softly, taking a step closer. “But that’s part of growing up, Mom. It’s part of learning who I am, outside of who you think I should be.”

She closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her own emotions. When she opened them again, there was a flicker of something I couldn’t quite name — acceptance, maybe, or at least a step in that direction. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?” she asked, her voice softer now.

I smiled faintly, a small sense of relief blooming in my chest. “Of course.”

She nodded once, stepping back toward the doorway. Her hand lingered on the frame as she glanced back at me. “I’ll… I’ll help you finish packing,” she offered hesitantly.

The words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn’t respond. Then, slowly, I nodded. “I’d like that.”

She nodded again, her lips pressing into a thin line before she disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I exhaled shakily, the tension in my chest easing just slightly. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, and it wouldn’t fix everything between us, but it was a start. When she returned, she carried a small stack of my favorite sweaters and a carefully folded blanket from the living room. She set them gently on the bed beside my suitcase, her movements deliberate and quiet. We worked side by side in silence, the unspoken understanding between us saying more than words ever could.

As I zipped up the suitcase and clicked the latches into place, I felt a strange mix of emotions — relief, sadness, hope. This wasn’t the ending I’d envisioned, but maybe it didn’t have to be an ending at all. Maybe it was just a new chapter. A chance for both of us to grow.

The airport was quieter than I expected for a New Year’s Day. Nicholas and I stood at the curb, my suitcase already unloaded and waiting beside us. The cold January wind nipped at my cheeks, but I barely felt it. The weight of the moment pressed against my chest, each passing second stretching into eternity.

My dad was the one who drove us, his calm presence offering an unspoken reassurance during the ride. He stood a few paces away now, giving us space but still close enough to send a quiet message: You’re not alone. My mom hadn’t come. It was too much, too soon, for either of us, and I was grateful she didn’t push.

Nicholas adjusted the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder, his free hand finding mine. His fingers intertwined with mine, warm and grounding, as his gaze searched mine. “Are you sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice steady but tinged with uncertainty.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure.”

He gave a small, relieved smile, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand. “Good,” he said simply, his tone carrying more weight than the single word implied.

We stood in silence for a moment, the world around us bustling with the sounds of car engines, rolling suitcases, and distant announcements over the airport speakers. But it all felt far away, like background noise to the gravity of this moment.

“I meant what I said last night,” Nicholas said, his voice breaking the silence. His eyes held mine, unwavering. “I don’t want you to feel like this is something you have to do for me. I want you to come because it’s what you want.”

I squeezed his hand, my heart swelling with both gratitude and affection. “I’m doing this for us,” I said firmly, my voice steadier now. “Because I want to be with you, Nicholas. Wherever that takes me.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with wonder. “You know that, right?”

I huffed out a quiet laugh, my cheeks warming despite the cold. “You tell me enough.”

“Not nearly enough,” he said, his tone serious. He cupped my face with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I blinked them away quickly, not wanting to cry here, in the middle of the airport curb. 

Nicholas leaned in, his forehead resting gently against mine. For a moment, the world around us seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us standing together, on the cusp of something new.

“Let’s go make a life together,” he said softly, his words a promise as much as an invitation.

I nodded, a small smile breaking through the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “Let’s do it.”

He kissed me then, a soft, lingering kiss that felt like a vow, sealing the moment between us. When we pulled apart, he grabbed my suitcase with one hand and reached for my dad with the other, shaking his hand firmly.

“Thank you,” Nicholas said, his voice steady but filled with meaning. My dad nodded, his grip firm as he clapped Nicholas on the shoulder.

“Take care of her,” my dad said quietly, his voice low but carrying the weight of a father’s love and trust.

“I will,” Nicholas replied, his voice unwavering.

As we turned toward the airport doors, I glanced back one last time. My dad stood there, his hands in his pockets, watching us with a faint but proud smile. I gave him a small wave, and he nodded, his expression a mixture of sadness and pride.

I knew my relationship with Nicholas was passionate, fiery. What I didn’t anticipate was how it would ignite a revolution within me — one that would burn away the old version of myself. That version of me was timid, too caught up in her own head, second-guessing her worth, constantly wondering if she was enough. She lived under the shadow of others’ expectations, her mother’s most of all, like a flame too afraid to burn brightly. But with Nicholas, that flame wasn’t snuffed out; it was set free.

It wasn’t just his presence or his love that changed me — it was the way he saw me. He didn’t just love the version of me that I tried to present to the world. He loved the flawed, messy, confused parts of me that I tried so hard to hide. And in doing so, he showed me that I didn’t need to keep hiding. That I could let go of the suffocating need to measure myself by other people’s standards, to live up to expectations that were never truly mine.

The fire between us wasn’t always gentle. It challenged me, forced me to confront parts of myself I had buried for so long. At times, it felt overwhelming, like the heat might consume me. But through that fire, I found strength I didn’t know I had. I learned how to stand tall, how to take up space in my own life instead of folding myself smaller to accommodate others. With Nicholas’s support, I began making room for myself — not just in his world, but in my own.

It still feels surreal sometimes, to think that it all began with something as random and mundane as a hotel room assignment. Two strangers, their lives running parallel for a fleeting moment, brought together by sheer coincidence. If either of us had arrived a day earlier or later, if our rooms had been just a floor apart, none of this might have happened. And yet, it did.

The simplicity of that beginning only makes what came after feel more profound. That brief collision of our worlds wasn’t just chance; it was the spark that lit the fire. It was as if the universe had nudged us together, knowing that we were exactly what the other needed — even if we didn’t know it at the time.

And now, as I stand on the other side of that fire, I feel renewed, like I’ve shed a skin I no longer need. The woman I am now is no longer shackled by fear or self-doubt. She’s bold, unafraid to claim her happiness, her future. And while I’ve built this version of myself with my own hands, I know it was Nicholas who first handed me the match.

Continue the story with Room To Breathe (Part 4)

[yunniiez]

dry humping a teddy while missing ur baby :(

members: hyung line x fem reader

requested? yes

trigger warnings: degrading words, swearing, mention punishment, sending nudes/ semi phone sex? being watched by them. yea! lmk if i missed anything!!

heeseung walked in from work, walking through the oddly quiet home as he tried to locate you. “baby? i’m home” he called out. usually, you’d come running towards him and greet him but this time, he was met with silence. he made his way to your shared bedroom, figuring that’s where you’d be. the door was cracked open as small whines and whimpers could barely be heard from outside the door.

he pushed the door further open, snickering at the sight. he stood at the door for a moment, watching you desperately hump the teddy he had recently bought you for your anniversary. you squeaked in embarrassment when you noticed him standing there.

“keep going baby, you seemed to be enjoying it.” he said, his voice dropping low as he stepped into the bedroom, watching as your cheeks heated up. “come on slut, you were just moaning out for me.”

*******************************************************

his phone buzzed against his thigh as he pulled it out of his pocket with a soft hum. jay looked down at a message from you, opening it carelessly. his cheeks instantly flared into a bright pink, locking his phone and hiding it from anybody that may have seen. he was quite exposed too, having been out with the members for dinner. you had sent him a video of you riding one of your plushies, moaning out for him.

he groaned as his pants tightened around his crotch. he stood up, wordlessly walking towards the bathroom as he face timed you, cursing under his breath as he locked himself inside the disabled bathroom. “pick up, fucking bitch.” he muttered to himself. you picked up not soon after, your cheeks flushed.

“i’m coming home soon. until then, you better enjoy what you’re doing when i can assure you, when i get home, you’ll be begging for forgiveness.” jay rasped, hanging up before you had the chance to respond.

*******************************************************

jake was asleep, his back turned to you, who had been desperately humping a teddy you usually slept with. you had woken up so horny but couldn’t find it in you to wake up your pretty boyfriend. so you resorted pathetically rubbing your little clothed cunt against your teddy in an attempt to release some sexual frustration.

as you felt your stomach beginning to tighten, your whimpers grew louder until you were shamelessly moaning, as your panties grew damp with your release. jake stirred from his sleep, lifting his head to turn around and look at you sleepily.

he groaned out, instantly figuring out what you had been doing. he reached over in his dazed state, placing his hands on your hips. “baby. come here, do that on me instead” he said, tugging you ontop of him.

*******************************************************

sunghoon walked into your bedroom, smirking as he plopped down on your bed that you had been in a slumber on. he placed his hand in your shoulder, gently shaking you to wake you up. “sweetie, i bought you something” he said softly, waiting for your eyes to open before waving a teddy infront of you.

you sat up, excited. he chuckled at your reaction, gently running his hands over the sides of your head before stopping to hold your face in his hands gently. “i think i deserve something too, no?” he said innocently, looking down at your body shamelessly.

you blushed, noticing the change in his demeanour. “you know what i want, right?” he asked, considering he made you do this with almost all of the stuffed toys he bought for you. “come on pretty baby, show me how thankful you are..”

RAHHH OK DONE!!!! feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated too!!

[spencerreidsreads]

He didn’t have to say it

Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: So immersed in your painting, you forget to take a break to stretch your legs. Aaron helps out with the pain that comes from it.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, mainly fluff!!

Word count: 1.7k

*based on THIS request*

AN: Hi! I’ve never written fanfiction of any sort in my life before, but I really wanted to give it a go. I’d love to know what you think, including any criticisms (I don’t mind criticism, I want to learn how to get better) If you enjoy please like, reblog and comment! If even anyone enjoys this piece it would encourage me to try again. Thank you so much

*also this is not proof read - I’m too embarrassed to go through it again. So please let me know if there are any mistakes!*

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡꘎

A flowing river of blue, the smell off wildflowers blowing in the breeze, and the chirping of birds flying overhead. And then… pain? No longer were you in a calm meadow garden, outside of a homey cottage. Instead you are sat alone, inside of your art room, suddenly aware of the pain in your legs.

You had been so immersed in finishing the last details of the painting you had started weeks ago, that you had lost track of time. You had been staring at it so intently, trying to look for flaws to perfect, it had almost felt like you were there. You hadn’t been at home just then, you were transported into your work of art relaxed and undisturbed within the canvas.

It was light outside when you began working. You remembered hearing the sound of people strolling the streets and children playing in the nearby park. Now however, the sky was beginning to darken and the streets were almost silent, other than the sound of the odd car driving past. The outside world was proof enough that you had been sat too long, without a single break to stretch your legs.

Had you not been so wrapped up in your painting, you would’ve remembered to take a walk or go for a snack to prevent the intense pain you were currently feeling. Aaron always reminded you to do so.

Speaking of Aaron, you desperately hoped he would be home soon, you knew the pain would only intensify once you started moving around, and you wanted nothing more than for him to be there to comfort you. He was so wonderfully helpful when you needed comfort. He was your rock and no matter how you were feeling, he always managed to make you feel somewhat better. He had researched the best ways to reduce the pain you often felt and despite how tired he may be from work, he always made the time to make sure you were safe and content.

Stretching out a paint speckled arm, you reached for your phone prepared to text Aaron to see if he would be home soon, he was due back to his evening. But once again he proved to be the best husband you could ask for, as not even a second after grabbing your phone, you heard the front door opening. Perfect timing.

The sound of the door shutting quietly, a bag hitting the ground and the locks of the door being set, you knew it was your husband finally back from the week long case he had been on with the team.

“Sweetheart?” his voice was soft and carried some tiredness with it, you knew this had been a tough case for him and immediately felt guilty for wanting his comfort and attention when he had only just returned home. You knew how hard he worked and didn’t want to burden him. So instead you decided you would greet your husband and try your best to hide the pain as not to worry him. Though with a skilled profiler as a husband, you knew this was wishful thinking.

When you went to stand, you hissed as an intense pain shot through your knees, causing them to buckle. Luckily, Aaron had come in search of you, having not heard a reply when he called out for you. Just as you were about to fall back to the ground you had previously been occupying, you immediately felt arms wrap around your frame, engulfed in the scent of your husbands cologne.

“Hey, take your time. It’s ok let me help you”. There goes your plan of hiding the pain. Aaron immediately knew what was wrong and slowly supported you to stand. Once you were fully elevated he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, holding most of your weight off of your knees. Despite the fact that Aaron repeatedly told you to stretch your legs to prevent this from happening, he wasn’t going to lecture you. You were in pain and he just wanted to bring you comfort, so he didn’t say anything. He just held you close and softly began to play with your hair the way that you liked.

The mixture of love you felt from Aaron’s care and the pain you were feeling in your legs caused tears to appear in your waterline. Aaron immediately shifted into gear, wanting to reduce the pain as much as possible, “how about we take a little walk hm? Just around the apartment. Give your legs a chance to stretch and I’ll tell you all about how much I missed you while I was gone?” You smiled and nodded in response through the tears. He always knew how to make you feel better.

Aaron didn’t rush you, he didn’t leave you to take care of yourself. Instead he lovingly wrapped an arm around your waist and let you set the pace as you walked out of your art room and into the kitchen. Though this caused the pain to intensify, you knew that in the long run it would help. So as you grimaced and slowly treaded through the pain, Aaron kept to his word and informed you of how awful it was to be away from you for the week. You laughed as he mentioned that he was caught looking at the picture of you he kept in his wallet by Morgan and he was teased by the team for the rest of the case. He told you that instead of ordering his original coffee from the coffee shop near the precinct, he ordered your favourite drink. It was too sweet for him and didn’t wake him up as much as he liked, but it made him feel closer to you.

As you approached the front door on your walk, near where he’d left his bag, Aaron reached inside and hid his hands behind his back, something grasped tightly in his fist.

“After we wrapped up the case I saw these in a store window and they made me think of you. One for me and one for you”. Aaron brought his hand in front of you both and opened it, revealing 2 key rings that looked to be a matching pair. One of them was a key shape, and the other a locket. You knew these weren’t the kind of thing Aaron cared for at all, in fact he found them extremely cheesy. But he knew you loved small things like this and just wanted to see you smile.

And smile you did. You looked from the keyrings in Aaron’s large hand, then back up to his eyes, a large grin on your face. You couldn’t believe the reputation Aaron had at work as the stoic grouchy boss. How could anyone describe this man (who was currently staring at you with a soft smile on his face and some tacky keyrings in his hand) as anything other than perfect? That’s what he was to you. Perfect. He was always thinking of you and you could not be more grateful.

“I love them” you whispered, Aaron didn’t respond, he just looked lovingly into your eyes and continued along with you on your walk to the living room. At this point, whilst your legs still ached, you found it hard not to focus on how happy you were with your partner. It was hard not to be happy around him. Your tears had eased up and had instead been replaced with a loving stare directed at your husband.

Once you had done a lap of the apartment, Aaron suggested a bath together to soothe your joints, which you quickly agreed to. He sat you on the side of the bathtub as he messed with the taps and added some bubbles, just the way you liked it. Once the bath was ready he held your hand and helped you in, slipping in himself afterwards, your back leaning against his chest. Not many words were exchanged, they didn’t need to be. You both knew exactly what you wanted to say ‘I love you so much’, ‘thank you for loving me’, ‘I’m so grateful to have you in my life’. Instead, Aaron softly hummed as he gently scrubbed away the paint from your body and placed soothing kisses along the back of your neck. You felt so safe and at home here within his arms.

Once the water began to turn cold, you and Aaron stepped out of the bathtub and he wrapped a towel around you.

“Your painting looked beautiful by the way” he whispered as you both prepared to brush your teeth and get settled for bed.

Despite being together for 7 years, he still made you feel giddy with his compliments. Turning to face him, a small thank you passed your lips. He was always so supportive of whatever hobby you picked up and loved to shower you in the compliments he believed you so deeply deserved.

The two of you soon got settled into bed and Aaron wrapped you into his arms, “how are you feeling honey? Any better?” he questioned.

Placing a soft kiss to his bare chest, you sighed in sleepy contentment before nodding your head. “You always make me feel better.”

“I just wish I was here more often for you” Aaron sighed. You knew he felt guilt about leaving you alone whilst he went away with the team, but even if he wasn’t with you, you rarely felt alone. Even at his busiest, he made time, even for something as small as an ‘I love you’ text or a ‘have a good day’ message.

“You’re perfect for me Aaron, please don’t doubt that. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” you sleepily replied, meaning every word. He gazed at your tired face and drooping eyes and saw that you were on the verge of sleep. Aaron swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He felt so overwhelmed with love that he felt emotional. Pulling you closer, he placed a soft goodnight kiss against your lips. “I love you sweetheart”, but you had already drifted off.

But even though you didn’t hear it, that didn’t matter. He didn’t have to say it. You knew. You’d never felt more loved in your life, Aaron loved you and he never let you forget it.

[smokbeast]

hi hello I’m finally feeling better! My commissions will finally open again tomorrow! If anyone is interested you can check out my commission sheet and google form! 💚

[moonchild9350]

Anything for You

Summary: The week was tough, you are tired, exhausted. Thank goodness you have an amazing boyfriend to help you during tough times.

Pairing: established relationship nonidol Felix x fab reader

Genre: fluff, smut- 18+ MDNI

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: nipple play, fingering

Notes: I felt like soft and sweet and attentive Felix was needed so this was born. I hope you like it and if so let me know! Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated :)

If you'd like to be apart of my taglist let me know!

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

You were tired. The last few shifts at work drained you mentally and physically. Your body ached as you dragged yourself home, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, as you made your way to your apartment. Each step up to the second floor was taxing, as you felt the weight of the week on your shoulders.

Putting the key in the lock, you opened the door, the bright light of the hallway light hurting your eyes. You closed the door and kicked your shoes off, dropping your bag in the floor. You could hear the tv on in the living room, a mop of blond hair peeping from the top of the couch, where your boyfriend Felix was sitting. He turned his head at your entrance, a gentle smile gracing his face at the sight of you.

Felix walked toward you, his smile slowly fading as he saw the exhaustion on your face. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you.

“What’s wrong love?” Felix asked as he held you tighter.

Being in his arms felt nice, the warmth easing the tension and fatigue from your body. You nuzzled your head into his chest before mumbling, “ sf’nothing. Just tired is all. “

“I’m so sorry love. What can I do to make you feel better?” Felix asked. His hand was now in your hair, his fingers gently running through the strands.

You were quiet for a minute, your brain trying to focus on his question. Finally, you thought of an idea. “Can you fix me a bath?” The thought of the warm water and your favorite bubble bath sounded perfect to you.

“Of course, I’ll get that started for you. “ Felix kissed the top of your head before letting you go, making his way to your bathroom.

You followed close behind, thankful for a boyfriend that will do anything for you. You watched as he filled the tub, squeezing your favorite lavender bubble bath under the warm water. You watched as the bubbles formed, growing in size as the water rose, the calming scent filling the bathroom. Felix walked around the bathroom lighting candles, their soft glow radiating across the bathroom. Once he was done, he turned to you with a smile on his face.

“It’s all ready love. Wanna get in?”

You nodded, stripping your clothes off and dropping them on the floor. You looked up to see Felix taking his clothes off too. You cocked your head to the side. “What are you doing Lix?”

He chuckled at your confusion, “just want to get in with you. That’s all.”

You nodded watching as he got into the tub, and sat down. He motioned for you to follow. You stepped in and lowered yourself down, the warm water enveloping you. You let out a sigh as you settled against Felix, his arms wrapping around your middle to hug you close.

You both sat there in silence, the sound of the bubbles shifting being the only sound in the room. The glow of the candles reflected off the walls, creating a comfy atmosphere. You were about to drift off until you felt Felix’s breath on your neck as he whispered, “close your eyes love.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, your eyelids fluttering close. You relaxed further into Felix’s hold. A moment passed before you felt Felix’s hands wander, as he gently passed them over your body. You let out a sigh in contentment.

“Let me take care of you. You’ve had a hard week,” Felix said as he continued to run his hands up and down your tummy. “Just close your eyes, empty your mind. No thinking ok?”

You hummed at his demands, letting the week, work, and everything else in your mind go. Felix drifted his hands upwards, brushing his fingers across your nipples. He repeated the action, watching over your shoulder as they became pebbled and hardened. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, your breath halting every now and then as you succumbed to the pleasure. Felix took one of your nipples in his fingers and rolled the bud and giving it a pinch, your breath catching at the sensation.

Grasping both breasts, he messaged the flesh, little sighs falling from your lips. Felix brushed his fingers over your belly again, before making his way further down, gently cupping your sex. You held your breath in anticipation, his fingers ghosting over your folds.

Felix swiped a finger through your folds, dragging them up to your clit and back down to your entrance. He repeated the motion again and again, before focusing on your clit as he drew slow circles on the bud. You mewled at his touch, as your hips slightly lifted up into his hand, the water sloshing in the tub.

You lost yourself in his touch, as he continued the slow pace. The tension left your body, your head falling limp against his shoulder as he played with your bundle of nerves, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. Dipping his fingers lower, you felt two fingers at your entrance. You moaned out as He slowly pushed them into your wet walls.

You loved how he payed attention to you, responding to your reactions as he increased his pace dragging his fingers in and out of your pussy, his palm kissing your clit with each thrust. You couldn’t sit still at this point, as you cantered your hips up to meet his thrusts. The water was turbulent with your motions, but you couldn’t care less about the mess now. The pleasure felt amazing, leaving you a moaning mess.

Felix pressed a kiss to your neck before reaching up to play with your nipple once more, his other hand never leaving your sweet pussy. You felt your breath hitch, as you let out little breaths. You were close, you just needed a little more.

Felix was watching you, a smile on his face as he recognized the all too familiar face, as you barreled closer to your high. He withdrew his fingers from your pussy, as you let out a whine at the sudden emptiness. You didn’t have to wait for long though as he brought his fingers back to you clit, rubbing it in tight circles. He pressed a little harder with each circle of his wrist, his other hand switching between rolling your nipples and pinching them.

“Let go love. Can you do that for me yeah? You deserve it sweetheart.” Felix said as he watched you succumb to the pleasure.

You couldn’t hold back, not anymore, the pleasure building and building until it overflowed. You let out a loud groan, your body seizing as you reached your high. Felix worked you through it as he continued to rub your little clit, and pressing kiss after kiss on your neck mumbling praises in your ear.

“Yes, love. So good. Let it all out baby.”

You mewled out at his praise before your body went limp. Felix removed his fingers from your folds, a grin gracing his face. He watched as you regulated your breathing, your tits rising and falling with each breath. Eventually you opened your eyes and adjusted yourself slightly so you nuzzle into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, before looking into your eyes.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, the love and gratitude flowing through the action. Felix gave you a squeeze before saying, “do you feel better love?” His eyes searched yours, hoping that he could have eased your burdens even if only just a little.

You nodded your head giving him a smile.

“Thank you Lixie. I feel much better.”

He gave you a smile, his beautiful brown eyes gazing down into yours.

“Anything for you love.”

You both sat embracing each other, the water lukewarm at best now. You didn’t care, however, feeling warm in Felix’s arms. You started to drift off, listening to the beat of his heart. You felt much better after being cared for by your boyfriend. You couldn’t help but think with a smile on your face , how’d I get so lucky. Lucky you were indeed.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @thesilvernight0wl @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus

[ladyelissarose]

‘Stop Thinking!’

Miguel O’Hara x girlfriend reader

Warnings; 4K!!! NSFW, smut. Very fluffy- Like fluffy overload. Soft Miguel. I feel like he would be such a soft and sweet person while off-work. (Like look at how sweet he was with Gabriella) anyways. Enjoy y’all!


Author’s note: so this is my first time writing smut. I have no experience in this area of writing. But I wanted to try something new for y’all. So far I’ve been learning from all the amazing smut fics I’ve read. (There are some great ones out there!!) So please, I’m willing to take some word from y’all if y’all like or see something that is fixable! Likes and reblogs are much appreciated- much love y’all! message me if you’ll like to mention something in private;)




“Oh!- Miguelll. Ah! That’s tickles.”


You let out a soft giggle as Miguel laid on top of you in bed, at your shared apartment, kissing your soft stomach wherever he pleased. You both decided to take the day off, (more like you pushed him to finally agree because you saw how exhausted he was) after being stressed out and running on 24 back to back shifts all to protect the spider-universes.

Jess and Peter B. had it in their control, along with LEGO Spider-Man too, (Miguel actually trusted that poor LEGO and seemed more at peace with him along with the others than not.) Anyways, while a very attention deprived Miguel tried to shower you in his once all pent up love and touch, you were too busy still thinking and being busy.


“I wonder if Hobie is going to pull a funny prank once you get back, he hates your guts yet can never leave your lair area.”


Miguel mumbled incoherent words as his lips kissed every part of your soft tummy, your shirt now scrunched up to your neck. You were in simple panties while Miguel rested in his boxers, choosing to have less clothing between the two. You felt Miguel all over you, relaxing in his touch but thought a little more before adding,


“Baby can I babysit MayDay one day? So Peter B and you can work better together and he’s not very distracted?”

This time he let out a groan which you considered a ‘yes’.


“Oh yay!”

To that he softly bit your tummy, to which you let out a soft squeak but nonetheless put forth,

“Or maybe I’ll go on a mission with all the teens, they all seem pretty fun, especially Miles and Pavtir. Gwen gives me ‘mommers’ energy, I’ll invite her to the mall instead. ohhhh.”


 He had just left a super wet kiss in between your breasts after giving attention to them, but he replied,
“Hmm hmm amor.”
Miguel loved to hear you talk, it was no doubt that hearing your voice made his day better (especially when certain spiderlings gave him a hard time.)

But right now, he didn’t want to hear that, he just wanted to hear your soft sighs, those little hitched breaths when he kissed a certain spot. Although more than any of those, it was the whimpers and pleading cried you made for him, along with the sweet moans that were addicting and music to his ears.

Buuuuuut, you wouldn’t god damn shut up. Your mind was working to fast instead of slowing down.
“Hey Miguel, when do you think Jess will have her bab-“

Ok, he has had it, pushing his hair back with one hand he lifted up off of your for a second before stressing out his desperation,


“Por Dios amor, can you shut the hell up for one minute?”

Silence filed the room instantly, you snapped out of your chatty self and saw Miguel’s warm brown eyes hold a yearning in them, and he was breathing hard yet letting in and out slowly. You felt bad for being selfish much, and for not being able to decompress for him.

“I’m sorry Miguel.”

A pout fell on your lips which he kissed away instantly,
“It’s ok amor... I’m not mad. Just... relax.”

You nodded and he then kissed you, feeling that you might give in already, but you began to make excuses against his lips. Mumbling the words against him as he had refused to separate from your lips,
“-ut Migg-“

He pulled away with a huff and held up a very serious finger to your lips gently,
“Don’t ‘But Miggy’ me. Miguel, your boyfriend is telling you to shut up and let me love you. No more work, or nothing. All I want to hear from those pretty lips is moans and my name. Es todo, y nada mas.”


A little snicker passed your lips as you then exaggerated with heavy pants,
 “Oh yeah! Yes please! Ohh- AH MIGUELLL! Oh- fuck!!”


Miguel let out a delicious chuckle with a smirk, groaning lowly as he seated himself deep inside you, relishing in the fact of how you squeezed him so perfectly, hitting all the right spots for him. You were left breath and wordless, as his sudden act caught you off guard and now shut up. You let out a shaky breath and a small moan, trying to suppress it as he pressed in harder and held his place as he whispered to your ear,


“Wanna be quiet now? Thought you wanted to be loud? Hm queirda?”


Teasingly he dragged his fangs across your neck, placing feather light kisses behind the wet trails he left. You squeezed his broad shoulders tightly and in that moment you tried to admire his stealth and magnificence above you, but your mind went racing, and you lost yourself in his eyes as you once again went into thinking,
‘How’d his big size fit in so quickly and unexpectedly-‘


“Amor. Are you ok with this- I’m sorry if I-“

Miguel had the guiltiest frown and started to pull away, and you felt as if your air was being taken from you. How could he think he was in the wrong for absolutely praising and pleasuring you?

With grabby hands you pulled him flush against your chest as you pleaded,

“No no no! You’re ok baby, I swear.”


 His brow picked up a bit as he then asked curiously, showing how much he actually cared about ‘you’ over everything, even while still balls deep inside you,
“Then what’s wrong amor? Hm?”


His homey brown eyes bore only yours as you calmed him,
“Sorry, I was just.. lost in thought.”


 His frown was long gone as he pursed his thick lips and couldn’t help but tsk,
“You still have a question do you?”


Your cheeks burned bright red as you slowly nodded and whimpered,

“yes.”

He propped himself on his elbows to not crush you as he then threatened with a kiss to your nose,
“You have one last question to ask before I rail you until you stop thinking.”


 A breath left your chest in satisfaction as you wiggled a bit, biting down a moan from feeling him swell harder in you, and perfectly ignoring how he bit his lips hard to contain himself. You then raked your hands across his back as you perked,
“How’d you squeeze yourself so easily inside of me? When it usually takes-“

Then you took one of his hands and kissed his knuckles before continuing,
“-your fingers to warm me up?”


 Miguel let out one of his warmest smiles that had a hint of tease in it as he replied,
“Well... you were to busy thinking up here *kiss on your head* instead of thinking down here!-“


And with a quick pull back he slammed himself back into you, causing you to arch into him and this time really moan out,
“Ahhh! Oh Miiiguel.”


“Si? I’m here amor. And you-“

Another deep thrust*

“-were long ready before you even knew it.”

deep thrust*

“Oh go-“

“No amor.. just me.. Miguel. Vamos amor, say my name.”

Lust and pride burned red in his eyes as he looked down at your smaller form under his, adoring every move and sound you made, because of him.

With gentle but hard moves he thrusted into you, being the cause of your short breaths and little whimpers that he was now happy to receive and hear. Arms wrapped around him you pulled yourself up and bit onto his lips, and you left him a sweet kiss before challenging with a sultry voice,


“Make me, Miguel.”


His slower, languid movements suddenly stopped, as he watched you look up at him with a high chin. You let go of his arms and dropped yourself back down, lifting your arms above your head and resting them there. You were sure in a damn mood huh? But it only excited you and brought more to your arousal when he growled,


“Lo hare entonces.”


 Eyes now glowing red, in seconds he had one hand clasped with both of yours, fingers intertwining in a bruising grip, holding them high above your head. With his other hand, he put a soft pressure on your lower stomach, and trailed it up, expanding his fingers to get a whole feel of your skin against his. He stopped his hand right at your throat, his sweet voice betraying his sharp demeanor when he asked- of not pleaded,


“Por favor amor? Do you trust me?”


You sent him a confident smile with a verbal reply, knowing he preferred those for good confirmation,


“Yes love. I trust you.”


Fingers embracing the hold your neck gave him, he squeezed lightly, not wanting to push it too much, but it was just the right amount.

Miguel loved pushing you and trying new things, but he always did it after asking and making sure you were absolutely comfortable. If not he wouldn’t ask twice to do it or make you feel bad about not going with it.

Now your legs found place around his waist, hugging him tightly as he had pulled back and you refused him to go any further out.

But your worries about that were cut short when he began to pour his love out to you with every sharp thrust. Hitting every spot in you had you almost seeing stars, warmth seeped into you from the inside out. Low whimpers escaped his lips all while he made sure loud moans came from yours.

Also, one thing Miguel couldn’t go through this without- was the praise.

“You’re taking me so well amor, eres perfecta. All mine hm?”

A kiss to your lips he added,
“Look at you, hermosa. Tan bueno... look at me.”

You eyes had tried to flutter shut, but at his whimpering plea you couldn’t deny him. Your fucked out eyes looking into his hungry and lustful ones, you both fed off on one another, pleading for more.
 Words were almost not able to get out from how breathless he made you with every thrust. Bit with a certain one that hit you right where it made all the butterflies go all out, you did muster out,
“Y-Yes! Jus’ for you Mig- ah! Please- don’t stop!”

A heavy sigh left your lips as tears prickled in your eyes, the pleasure all too good to keep a straight face. You could feel it all building up, but it felt all too right and perfect to want to finish it and let it go so fast. And you knew Miguel felt the same when he groaned,
“Just a little longer amor, no quiero parar tampoco.”

Your legs pushed him further into you and you dug your heels into his muscled lower back, reaching up to kiss he parted lips.
 Lips then connecting he took your breath away yet provided leverage with his hard pants escaping into you. His muscles rippled under you and you could feel his every movement as he pressed himself impossibly closer to you, not getting enough of your touch or your skin against his.

A light coat of sweat covered you both at the close proximity, but neither gave a damn as you dove into the heat of this moment, embracing into this warmth and heat that was like no other. It was the kind that made you feel safe, known, belonging, cared for, and most of all.. unapologetically loved.

After every other thrust Miguel seemed to be going faster, his hand leaving your neck to use his fingers to rub against your clit, prompting you to reach your high he called his trophy.

Your moans spurred him on as you could feel that familiar and all different warmth of pleasure grow in your lower tummy. You squeezed Miguel’s hand tightly as you pleaded in between moans,
“Ah! Miguel, please.”

With a harsh but quick kiss to your lips Miguel teased,
“Please what? Qué deseas amor?”

He let out a deep groan when your walls tightened around him, making him let out a sweet low moan that was rare to get but you swallowed his every sound desperately like a drug. He smiled with his lips on yours as he asked,
“You close amor? Hm? I can feel- ahhhh.”

You’ve never heard Miguel this vocal before, and you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t triggering something deep in you. Finding him strong in his vulnerability, as he moaned to your words,
“I’m close baby- please! F-Faster!”

Miguel then let go of your hands, and wrapped his arms around you, settling with one hand splayed on your back, and the other gripping your waist tightly, threatening to leave ‘love tattoos’. With a single kiss to you lips Miguel growled,
“Como deseas, aferrate a mi.”


 Your arms grasped tightly onto his broad shoulders, closing whatever gap was left between you two. Your cheek was pressed on his and you held his head against you possessively. 


Miguel put himself onto his knees, and laid you down while clinging onto him for life, as if you were afraid to let him go and lose everything of him. With a reassuring kiss to your head, the fight for your highs became utterly real.

With quick, deep thrusts he began to absolutely rail you, grinding onto your sweet spot with every hit, spurring you on and raising your cries for him.
“Oh Miguel! Ah! Please please- Miguel!!”

He could definitely feel how close you were to an euphoric moment, velvety walls swallowing his length and milking him for what was to come. It only encouraged him to suck up what was left of his adrenaline to sink further in and gift what he could in pleasure.


 Miguel loved you entirely, he’d kill and die for you. You had given him your heart and knew he wouldn’t screw up again, and if he did, he swore with his heart and life that he’d pay for it. In return he had finally given his to you, once he saw and knew you’d do the absolute same for him, if not more.

His life was harsh and more than occupied, he wore a mean facade 99% of the time so he wouldn’t be stepped on, but with you, he could be 100% himself, and this is who he was. A loving, self-sacrificing man, who was vulnerable and healing by giving his all to you. Showing his love endlessly by making himself yours and you his. 
 Feeling himself coming to close to his release, he let go of your waist and trailed his hand to your clit, using his fingers to press down harsh and tight circles that have you curling your toes.
“Vamos amor, come baby I’m right with you. I’m h-here.”


 His words cut short when you finally let go at his command, gushing on him as you let out a deep cry of his name and ‘I love you’s’. 
 Miguel embraced you close as he let go right after you, panting and kissing your neck as he let his cum paint inside of you, marking you once again as his. With a couple last deep thrusts, he finally came to a stop and took deep breaths in between heartfelt words.


“I.. I love you amor.. so m-much.”


You responded with a light kiss to his lips and a mumble, feeling the exhaustion slowly take over,
“I love you... more baby.”


 Miguel got up on his elbows, muttering comforting words as he slowly started to pull out, but you whined a bit and held his shoulders, a small but visible pout on your lips. He thought you were very sore after such a long and hard session, but you quickly said,
“Stay inside.. I.. I want you close.”


 Miguel smiled at you sweetly, knowing that he too would love to do the same, but you needed a refreshing bath first. So he bargained and promised,
“Why don’t we take a quick bath, then we can do that, yeah amor?”

You thought for a minute before accepting he was right, the sticky feeling in your legs showing so. The thought of having cool yet warm water embrace your growing sore body, had you ready to get up immediately.


“Ok baby, let me get up to start it-“

“No no no... let me carry you, come on.”


Like the strong man he was, he was able to sweep you up into a bridal style, carrying you gently into the bathroom as you muttered,
“Thank you..”

“Anytime amor. Sit here while I get the stuff ready.”


 He gently placed you on the sink and wrapped you with the sheet you dragged along so you wouldn’t get cold, pressing a kiss to your lips twice, he then went on to prepping your bath. 


Having memorized all the salts and bath bombs you preferred most for soreness and relaxation, Miguel efficiently and quietly placed them all into the warm water, splashing it a bit to make more bubbles (as he knew you secretly loved it passionately) 

 In peace you watched how his back muscles moved so enticingly with every thing he did. They were so big and comforting to touch.

He used his strength to take out big scary guys and protect his multiverses... but he also used them to make your bath perfect, and that thought... did warm your heart and make you fall harder for him as always.

His chiseled chest gleaming in light and in his sweat, brought you back to earth as he walked toward you with a warm smile and soft words,
“Ok mi amor, it’s ready, come on.”


 With one arm he picked you up, only confirming how tough you thought he was, and he gently and carefully placed you both in. His chest against your back he held you close, his hands never leaving your body. 


You two sat in quiet for a bit, relishing in the water and in each other, soon then Miguel asked if you were ok and not hurt at all, you responded with,
“I feel complete with you. I’m perfectly safe and happy baby.”


 With peppering kisses you two helped each other clean up, you too also asking him questions to make sure he was ok as well, and he responded assuringly,
“Never been better. Contigo estoy contento amor.”


 Little after you both were ready to hop out, as the water had cooled down. Drying off with fluffy towels, exchanging shy and loving glances at your exposed bodies made you both giggle a bit and have rosy faces, but you’ve never felt more free and safe. 


Massages were given to your sore legs and back, as Miguel rubbed on some lotion for you. You tried to do the same, but ended up being enthralled by how rock hard his abs were that you got distracted a couple of times.

So you instead helped him back by getting some fresh water and popping some fruit in his mouth, he couldn’t resist but return that favor but also steal fruity kisses. Then you two put out clean sheets, it all felt so romantic yet domestic, and beautiful combination that was so perfect. 
 Now completing his promise, the big, strong, mean and hard Miguel held puppy eyes and crawled on top of your laying form and whispered,
“Can we still...?”

“Yes baby, I haven’t changed my mind. C’mere.”


 He smiled like a dork, as he guided himself into you once again, this time he was soft yet firm, but you both sighed contentedly once he was fully inside.

Half of his weight rested on you, his legs to the side as his face came to hide in your neck, his hand finding place on your head and the other intertwined with yours. You cradled his head and kissed it sweetly,
“Goodnight baby, get some sleep.”


 Your words sounded like he was the only one going to be sleeping. Your voice sounded so alive compared to his, and he could only grumble,
“You better not be thinking. Go to sleep.”

“Miggy-“


 His head lifted to be above you as he worded seriously yet with a tease,
“Go mimis. Please amor. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You lifted a brow and sassed,
“Promising another round sir?”


 Calling ‘sir’ had him smirk and threaten,

“More like rounds. I won’t only make your legs sore but your brain too.”

“Mmmm challenge accepted-“

He sighed a short laugh of disbelief at your still sassiness as he plopped back down into your neck.
“Mimis amor. Now.”

You were going to respond, but a sudden deep yawn came over you, and in seconds you felt extremely exhausted. Eyes closing slowly you worded lastly,
“G’night baby.. love you.”


 Miguel hummed against you, content to hear you passing out as he replied,
“Sweet dreams amor.. love you too.”


 You passed out before he even finished, he felt the deep breaths you took and how your hand went limp on his head. He smiled to himself and got comfortable, before riding his sleeping chariot alongside you.

Spanish Translations;
amor- love
Queirda- dear
Como deseas- as you wish
Es todo, y nada mas- that’s it, and nothing more
Lo hare entonces- I’ll do it then.
Aferrate a mi- Hold onto me
Vamos- come on
Contigo estoy contento- With you I’m happy
Eres perfecta- you’re perfect
Mimis- night-night

[krirebr]

Thanksgiving with the Barbers

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: You and Andy celebrate Thanksgiving. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, references to punishment, isolation, solitary confinement, hunger, negative self-talk, manipulation, angst, mental breakdown - This is a rough one, guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Masterlist

A/N: So... remember this part from I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas?

"Don’t you want this Christmas to be better than Thanksgiving?” It took everything in you not to grimace. You still felt the marks from what he’d done to you after Thanksgiving dinner.

Yeah. This is that Thanksgiving.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who read so much of this and always encourages me to go as dark as my twisted little heart desires.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy’s soft murmurs traveled down the hallway to you from the entryway as he said goodbye to his guests. You couldn’t tell how things had gone. He’d seemed happy enough but as he’d started introducing you to his life outside these walls, you’d learned quickly how easily he could have one face for the world and a different one for you. He’d stressed many times all week how important it was that your first holiday together be perfect. Was it? Had you done enough?

You busied yourself with cleaning up the dining room, trying to ignore the churning dread in your stomach. The leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables had already been moved to the kitchen, waiting to be put away in the fridge. Then you’d start on the endless dishes. Hopefully, that would buy you some time alone, while Andy went back to the football on TV. 

You kept your head down and continued gathering the discarded plates as Andy’s heavy footsteps came down the hall. He entered the dining room and leaned against the old-fashioned buffet that took over one wall, his arms crossed over his chest. You felt his eyes on you, but you kept your own eyes down and didn’t say anything. You knew better now. 

You had a tall stack of plates now that you wanted to take into the kitchen, but you were afraid of turning your back on him and leaving the room. So, you stood where you were, and you waited. 

Finally, he cleared his throat. You looked up. “You were awfully quiet at dinner,” he said, softly, but there was an edge of steel in his tone. 

“No, I–” you started and immediately regretted it. That was a bad word. “I just didn’t have much to add to the conversation.” The guests were all Andy’s colleagues and their spouses. It’d been too much shop talk to keep track of. On top of being so many more people than you were used to.

Andy made a thoughtful little hum before he continued. “Barbara commented on it, as she said goodbye. Wanted to be sure you were ok, hadn’t felt left out.”

You forced a smile, trying to stop your hands from shaking. “Yes, I’m fine. I had a nice time. It was a good dinner.”

He pushed himself off of the buffet, straightening to his full height. “Really, you thought it was a good dinner? With a dry turkey and an unfriendly hostess?”

You couldn’t help the way you blanched. You’d never cooked a whole turkey before or anything like it.  And you didn’t have access to the internet right now, so you were limited to the highbrow cookbooks Andy had bought for you. While those recipes were detailed, they didn’t exactly have tips and tricks for beginners. You’d tried your best. And no one at dinner had complained. Everyone seemed to enjoy it. You’d thought it was ok. But he didn’t want to hear you defend yourself, so you said nothing. 

He looked at the dirty dishes spread across the table and scowled. “Finish cleaning this up,” he said. “We’ll continue this conversation when you’re done.”

You nodded quickly with a quiet, “Yes, Andy,” trying to keep your sigh of relief inside. He hadn’t said you’d continue the conversation downstairs, hadn’t said anything about a timeout or a punishment. You might be ok. You might get off with just a lecture. You could handle an upstairs lecture—kneeling at Andy’s feet while he listed all the ways you’d disappointed him and everything you needed to do to be better. Sometimes you even got to stay fully clothed. Lectures were fine. Lectures were easy. As long as you got to stay upstairs, you’d be ok.

Without another word, he moved into the kitchen. You heard him opening and closing the fridge as you continued organizing the dishes into neat stacks to hopefully make cleaning up a little easier. He came back with a beer in his hand, moving through to the living room to watch the evening game. As he started to walk by the table, the movement drew your eye to something, his reflection caught in the shiny steel. The carving knife. Just lying there next to the turkey.

The knife block had sensors in it, just like all the doors downstairs or the front door of the house. You had to scan your wristband every time you needed to use a knife while cooking and it would send an alert to Andy’s phone, letting him know whenever you used one, for how long, and when you put it back. But the carving knife, he’d taken that out himself today. As the man of the house, he had to be the one to carve the turkey. And then he’d just left it there, forgotten about it. The carving knife.

As you stood there, staring at it, it was like all of the parts of yourself he’d worked so hard to turn off, suddenly came roaring back on. How much you hated the dress you currently wore. How exhausted you were after working in the kitchen all day without a single thank you. The lecture that you knew awaited you, being forced to kneel at his feet. All of your own holiday traditions that had been stolen from you so that you could accommodate his. Everything he’d taken from you. The rage bubbling up inside of you was cleansing. You felt it giving you new breath, new life. You felt yourself coming back.

You looked up at Andy as he continued to move, his back to you now. That perfect, broad expanse. You could see it so clearly. The way you’d bury that knife between his shoulder blades. You lunged across the table.

Andy spun around as soon as he heard you move, his bottle of beer slipping from his hand, it’s contents spilling everywhere. Somehow, in that instant, he saw what you were grasping for and lunged for it too. Oh god, he was so much closer to it. You'd timed it all wrong. You were stupid in your desperation and anger. Oh well. You'd already made the choice. There was no turning back now.

You threw yourself onto the table, arm outstretched, dirty plates beneath you, just as his hand wrapped around the handle of the knife. You let out a guttural scream as he threw it away from you and it clattered against the baseboards. 

A beat too late, you tried to crawl backward, your knees struggling for purchase on the tablecloth, plates crashing to the floor, but Andy had already grabbed your still outstretched arm, dragging you towards him as you flailed, trying and failing to grab onto anything that might help you. 

He pulled you over the edge of the table and you fell to the floor, landing harshly in a jumble, more plates falling around you. He loomed over you, face completely overtaken by rage. But it couldn’t compare to yours. You kicked out wildly, indiscriminately and you’d never felt more satisfied than when you landed a few hits to his shins and he grunted in pain. Your satisfaction was short-lived, however, as he recovered and reached down to wrap his hands around both your wrists, even as you struggled as hard as you could to get away from him. 

He didn’t say a word as he dragged you across the floor. That was fine. You had no problem filling the silence. “You fucking motherfucker!” you screamed, the frustration and terror and anger of the last several months finally finding an outlet. “I hate you! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna burn this house to the fucking ground!”

Your struggles kicked up a notch as he opened the door to the basement with one hand, the other now holding on to both of your wrists. “No!” you yelled. “You can’t fucking do this! I’m done pretending to be your perfect little wife! You can’t–”

He wasn’t gentle at all as he yanked you down the stairs. You had to pause your fighting and screaming as you fell, the breath knocked out of you. You tried to protect your head, tried to protect any part of your body you could as you hit every step. Your dress did nothing to help as it gathered above your waist. You were exposed and vulnerable. But what else was new? You were immune to it now, after being debased every single day for months.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs to adjust his hold on you, using both hands to drag you again. Still, he said nothing. But you caught your breath and resumed your litany of hate. “You’re so fucking weak. You’re pathetic. Of course, you had to buy a wife. Who would love you willingly?” The carpet burned your skin as he dragged you across it, but you continued to struggle, continued to scream. Nothing would stop you now. “You’re disgusting. Embarrassing.”

He stopped in front of the door to the quiet room and you almost laughed. Did he really think this was just some little tantrum a time-out would fix?  Did he really not understand the rage and power that flowed through you now? Did he really think a few hours in the dark would quell this? No way. After everything you’d been through, everything you felt now, you could handle the quiet room.

He threw you in and closed the door behind you. You sank down into the darkness. This was fine. This was great. The darkness couldn’t hurt you.

You’d forgotten what it was like to have no understanding of the passage of time. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. Right? 

He would come get you soon. What would you do then? Attack him as best you could. The rage still coursed through you. You were done laying down for him.

It must be getting late. It’d already been evening when the guests left. You were so tired now. Exhausted. But you had to be ready when Andy opened the door.

You startled awake as the furnace whirred to life. You were slumped over against the wall, your face pushed into the cinder block. It felt grimy.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Where was Andy? Whatever tenuous grasp you’d had on what time it was was completely gone now. That was ok. Andy would come soon and you’d beat the shit out of him, and then you would know what time it was.

It was the hunger that hit you first, but the thirst hit you harder. You knew now that this was the longest he’d ever left you here. You’d never gone hungry like this before. Well. He would let you out soon. He had to.

Your stomach hurt with how hungry you were. Your throat ached. Would he just let you die down here? Was he that angry? So angry that he’d decided to cut his losses. Start over with someone new. Was starving to death better than your life upstairs? Or the basement? You honestly didn’t know.

You were sprawled across the floor, as much as you could in the small space. What was the point of being upright? You could barely even tell which way was up anymore. It was all just darkness.

Suddenly, you were hit by a sliver of blinding light. What was happening? It took you embarrassingly long to realize it must have been a slot in the door you’d never seen before. Then something slid through it. You blinked at it, trying to get your eyes to focus, trying to make sense of what you saw. Oh my god, it was food! You lunged for it and tried to pull the tray to you, but it wouldn’t budge. That was better anyway. You needed the light to eat.  

On the tray was a small plate of leftover turkey and green beans and a bottle of water, along with a small plastic fork. You went for the water first, downing it, and then scarfed up the food, not even tasting it. After a few minutes, on the other side of the slot, you heard an alarm go off, and the tray was pulled back, a few bites still on the plate. “Andy, wait!” you called out, but the slot slammed closed and you were in the dark again.

You didn’t have anything to do. You couldn’t remember the last time you had nothing to do. Before Andy brought you here. Evenings in your little apartment, watching TV and eating takeout, fucking around on your phone. You hadn’t done that, hadn’t even thought about doing it in months. 

When you first got here, when your list of chores felt insurmountable and ridiculous, you would’ve given anything for the chance to lay around and do nothing. But now, it didn’t feel right. You should find a way to be productive. Andy was going to be so disappointed in you.

You hated yourself for thinking it.

You tried to do some yoga. You were so stiff from laying on the floor, but it was too hard when you couldn’t see how much space you had and were too scared of hurting yourself on the furnace or hitting the wall. So you went back to doing nothing.

The worst thing about waking up in this room was that you had no memory of falling asleep. It was all just darkness. Maybe there was no real difference between sleeping and being awake. How could you even tell anymore?

Andy brought another meal. Well, you assumed it was him. There was no one else. But you didn’t see him. He didn’t say anything. The tray was pushed through the slot, you ate and drank as fast as you could, the tray was pulled away. You didn’t say anything to him either.

You were so fucking bored. You’d tried singing to yourself. Running through old movies you remembered watching on TV as a kid. Reciting passages from old books. You felt like you were running out of thoughts.

There’d been three meals. If you could count the meals, that was sort of like keeping track of time, right? Even though you had no idea how often he brought them. Still, it had to be something.

The furnace was going to drive you insane. That whirring, whirring, whirring. White noise that wouldn’t stop. So loud you were afraid that the noise was just inside your head now. Maybe the furnace wasn’t even on.

“Andy,” you called out when the slot opened. “Andy, please.” He didn’t say anything. He never said anything.

The timer must have gone off sooner this time. The tray was pulled back when you were only halfway done. You started crying as the slot started to slide closed. Your stomach felt too empty.

You realized your mistake after he was gone. You had to call him sir when you were in the basement.

You started talking to yourself. Just to hear your voice. Any voice. You didn’t have anything to say, but you just couldn’t deal with the silence.

It wasn’t worth it. You saw that so clearly now. What did you really think you’d gain? You were never going to kill him. You couldn’t even hurt him. You were never going to win and you’d lost even more by trying.

You couldn’t remember whether there’d been six or seven meals. You’d lost count. And they were all the same. Nothing differentiated them. There was nothing to hold on to. This was the one thing tethering you to anything real and you’d lost it. There was no getting it back. You didn’t know how long you’d been crying.

He was tired of you. He was done. He was the only thing you had in the whole world and you’d lost him. You’d fucked it up. You were going to rot away in the Quiet Room until you were nothing. There was no getting out.

You crawled over to the slot when it opened and put your head right in front of it, keeping your eyes closed to avoid the burn of the light. “Sir,” you pleaded, your voice raspy, “sir, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sir. Please.” You were crying. You couldn't stop. You couldn't hide it. 

He paused before he pushed the tray through, but he didn't say anything. 

You were lying on the floor, trying to figure out whether you were awake or dreaming when everything was suddenly bathed in light. You must be dreaming. Oh, but would a dream hurt so much? You rolled onto your stomach and curled up in a ball to try to shield your eyes from the light. Wake up wake up wake up, you chanted to yourself.

And then– Then, as you were curling up, tighter and tighter, on the floor, someone touched you, lightly, gently on your back. When was the last time you’d been touched? You didn’t know. You started crying, even as you pressed up into the soft caress.

“Oh sweetheart,” someone said. An angel. But wait. You knew that voice. “Look at you,” Andy said, “we’ve both had a rough few days, huh?”

You slowly rolled back over, wincing harshly at the light. There he was, crouching over you. You squinted at him, trying to make out his features. You started to sit up, but it ached to use your muscles that way.

He reached out a hand to help you. “Go slow, honey,” he said, and his voice was so gentle. “Give yourself a minute to adjust.”

“Sir?” you rasped. Was he really here?

“Hi sweetheart,” he cooed, as he carefully pulled you into his arms. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“How–” you blinked up at him, feeling so disoriented. “How long?”

“Too long,” he answered sadly. “But we both needed time to calm down, didn’t we?” 

He stroked your back, and you whimpered. It felt so good. You’d been alone for so long. You nuzzled into his chest, the tears still streaming down your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t– I shouldn’t have– I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand. Please forgive me.”

“Oh honey,” he sighed. You wished that you could drink up his gentle voice after so much silence. “I know. I know. It was a hard day. I understand. I’ll forgive you. After your punishment, it’ll be like it didn’t even happen.” 

“Punishment?” you looked at him in horror. “But– This– I–” You’d already been through so much. How could there be more?

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice picking up a firm edge. “This was just a little timeout. For both of us. So that we could both calm down and think about what happened. You know I never want to punish you when I’m angry.”

“But I’m sorry,” you cried, grasping at his shirt. You didn’t think you could handle a punishment. You were afraid you’d break into a million pieces in that room.

“You tried to hurt me.” All of the gentleness was gone now. “You have to be punished so you learn.”

You barely nodded as you curled up in his arms, crying quietly. You’d been so stupid. So, so stupid. It was such a mistake.

“I’ll tell you what, honey.” His hand resumed its stroking, up and down, up and down your back. So gently. “If you’re very good for me, if you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can go right back upstairs when it’s done. We won’t have to spend any more time down here.”

“Really?” You’d been so afraid that you’d doomed yourself to months down in the basement again, even worse than before.

“Really. Neither of us wants to be down here, do we? We both want to be happy upstairs, don’t we?”

“Yes, sir. Please, please. I’ll be good. I’ll be a good girl.”

“I know you will be, sweetheart. Let’s go get it over with, huh? Then we can take a nice long bath to get all this grime off of you. Can you move? Can you get up?”

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled into his chest, but you didn’t make any effort to move. Not yet. You wanted to savor this for a few more moments. You knew that as soon as you got into the punishment room, all of the gentleness would be gone. He’d be the figure from your nightmares again. And you knew you deserved it. You were so stupid. But you needed a couple more minutes of his soft touches before you’d be ready.

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