#she’s honestly just so adorable i love her!!!!

[starzradio]

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

when your husband’s secretary acts just a little too friendly around him.

FEATURING: office worker! nanami kento x wife! reader

CONTENTS: 18+ content, mdni. semi-public sex, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, fingering, use of pet names (sweetheart & my love)

WORD COUNT: 1k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE: so ik nanami might b too professional for this but 🤫🤫

"you need an appointment to see mr. nanami."

the receptionist spoke in a bored tone, barely looking up from her computer to give you a once-over. all the while she rolled her eyes and obnoxiously smacked her gum, like you were the one wasting her time.

but before you even had the chance to answer, the office door creaked open. "and i thought i mentioned that she could come in without needing one," nanami spoke up, appearing beside her desk.

the receptionist straightened up and busied herself with 'stacking' a couple papers on her desk. fluttering her lashes when she did look up at him, leaning forward just the slightest bit. "sorry, sir. you've just been soo busy and you did mention you didn't want anyone to bother you."

you honestly couldn't blame her, though. not when your husband had walked out of his office without his suit jacket on—the sleeves of his blue button down pushed up and showing off his watch. and well, the most important thing, his wedding ring. which she was blatantly trying to disregard.

"i'm aware. but you should know that doesn't apply to my wife, she's welcome to enter whenever she pleases," you could practically see her jaw clench as soon as he called you his wife, "please don't have me repeat myself. again."

"yes, sir. it won't happen again."

what she'd promised last time.

you stepped foot into the office, ceiling to floor windows decorating the space behind his desk. your heels clacked against the pristine floors, walking over to one of the wooden chairs.

"i brought you some lunch. saw that you forgot your bento at home and i wasn't sure if you brought any money to buy lunch," you spoke up, giving him a soft smile as you offered him the bento.

"thank you," he took the bento from you, setting aside, "but i think i'd like to have something different for lunch," kento cleared the space in front of him, patting on the wooden desk. a silent invitation. the skirt you had on rose up when you took a seat. the perfect offering if you'd ask nanami.

calloused hands ran down your legs, gently spreading them open. taking his time despite the thirty minute time constraint. "i'm sorry about her, by the way," nanami spoke up in a whisper, his lips pressing against your calf. "i don't know how much more obvious i need to be about being happily married."

his lips were reverent as he kissed up your leg, one of his hands holding the other in place. "like i'd ever want anyone but you, my love," he murmured, more so to himself, gently nibbling on your inner thigh. where only he'd be able to see them after. your legs spread apart almost instinctively, giving nanami the perfect view of the lace panties he adored so much.

and as much as he loved seeing you in them, the sight of you without them was much better. kento hooked one finger around the waistband, slowly removing them. sliding them inch by inch down your legs. "you didn't think we should hurry up, mr. nanami?" you questioned teasingly, pushing his hair back to take a look at his face.

"and why would we do that, mrs. nanami? i want to enjoy our time here," he pulled the underwear off, letting it fall to the floor. "well, you know you're sooo busy," you drawled, twirling a hair strand in between your fingers. he let out a small scoff, gently nipping at your leg in retaliation.

"never busy enough for you, you know that," nanami's voice came out muffled, licking a stripe up your cunt. he swirled his tongue around your clit before moving down, running the tip of his tongue down your folds. "never?" you mused, looking down at nanami. he wasn't paying that much attention to you anymore—rather, just your pussy.

"never," he muttered offhandedly, pushing a finger inside of you. your heels dug into his shoulder blades, your back arched when kento curled his fingers to hit your g-spot. and while it'd hurt at first—it was a pain that nanami was more than welcome to receive if it meant getting to lose himself in you.

your nails—paid for by yours truly—tugged on his hair, pulling him closer to your dripping cunt. kento clicked his tongue, looking up at you, "come on, use your words. tell me what you want and i'll give it to you."

"more, please," you responded almost immediately, your grip on his hair loosening up. just a bit. he replaced his tongue with two fingers, slowly getting past that initial resistance before pushing them in and out of you.

even with his glasses fogging up with every heavy breath that he took and your slick covering his mouth and chin, nanami continued to push his fingers inside of you. coaxing out all the pretty little noises you were making. "you can be a little louder, no? just a little bit, sweetheart," nanami curled his fingers, drawing out a whine from your lips.

you dripped onto his digits with each thrust, the golden wedding band on his finger glistening against the office lights. "k-ken, don't stop," your nails dug deeper into his hair, messing up the time he took fixing it this morning. you weren't even sure what was louder anymore—the squelching in between your legs or your moans.

your thighs clamped tightly around his head, holding him in place. "open them, darling. you can take it, you even asked me for more," kento felt the way your legs trembled—the way you were almost hesitant to open your legs again. you were close. "too much, too much," your moan had come out louder this time—loud enough to bleed through the walls.

not that it mattered.

you felt that familiar pressure build up in your lower tummy, your legs threatening to close again all the while your toes curled against the leather heels. too much, you'd said, and you still found yourself needing even more. "cum for me sweetheart, you can take it. take what's yours," his words served as a final push, your orgasm washing over you like a wave.

nanami pulled his dripping fingers out from your cunt and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping them off. effortlessly, he wiped away the spit and slick dribbling down his chin before carelessly tossing the handkerchief to the side. like it was nothing more than just a bother.

your chest heaved as you leaned back against the desk, watching your husband stand up from his spot. a wet patch adorned the front of his khaki pants, his cock practically twitching against the confines of his boxers. "i think i'll just skip ahead to the main course."

needless to say, you didn't have any more trouble coming into nanami's office after that <3

[rie-092]

Hi, here I reader an he Creep lycris and (i hopenits okay 2 characters) but I love the idea of the Eclarcks vrothers being ivsessed woth Penelope's maid! Reader.

And they tried to get notice, in a bad or good way. Reader takes care and actually loves Penelope and just want her mistress tk be happy uu

EVENT'S ENTRY OO2 : CREEP

[ yandere! eckhart brothers ]

note: here's the link of the event (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)!

let's start with derrick. he was the first one who noticed you. let's just say that you and him was childhood friends since you started working in the eckhart estate since you were a child.

at first, to be honest. derrick finds you annoying. but seeing you being happy and friendly towards his little sister. it struck something inside him.

and that was when he realized, ah, damn you. he was falling hard.

expect that derrick, despite of being prideful, will be very needy. hell, you're not even lovers but he will start demanding for your attention.

he will start calling for you everyday, despite of being busy with your work. and what's his reason? simple, because he wanted to ‘play’ with you.

well, technically you guys just spend times while reading books or drinking teas. but for derrick it was everything.

and that was when reynold eckhart entered the scene.

unlike his calm and collected older brother, reynold was fucking cute, i mean, a mess when he's in front of you.

it all started with a small crush and that was when he started following you around like a puppy. dude, this guy really loves headpats and compliments. so you better shower him with compliments!

he likes playing with you and yvonne! but it's just annoying to have derrick playing the dad role while you play the mom role when yvonne wants to play house.

since they were children. they haven't really realized that their affection for you were— how will i describe it? darker? or unhinge?

derrick was the calm and calculated one while reynold was the violent and cranky one. to be honest, they are not really jealous to each other. sure, they want your attention for themselves but— nah, nah, in derrick's eyes, reynold was too childish to be your type. while in reynold's eyes, his brother is too sophisticated to fall for you.

expect that they will be more handful when yvonne disappeared. they will be more clingy. because reynold wants you to comfort him while derrick was preventing you to disappear like yvonne.

and that was when penelope entered the scene. when the duke was finding a suitable maid to serve penelope. you were with derrick that time. he saw how your eyes shone as you looked at penelope.

no, no, no! he kept telling to himself that you only reacted like that because you miss yvonne. there's no way you find that thing adorable!

but the next day, he was surprised when he was informed by his father that you became penelope's personal maid. how dare her—

what about reynold? well, he doesn't really give a fuck. sure, he still hates penelope taking his sister's place on their family. but seeing you actually enjoys serving penelope.

honestly, derrick and reynold was really different when it comes to you. reynold was the soft one, heck, he won't hurt anyone or you physically and verbally if you give him the attention that he wanted. but once he saw you paying attention to anyone that is not him or derrick? you should expect to see his violent side.

while derrick is the unhinge one. he doesn't care who it was, if you don't pay any attention to him. the hell, this guy would lose it. i mean, the last time you went to the festival with your male friend. he tortured that thing in front of you (and hell, he was so close on doing that to penelope if you're not that overprotective over her).

and you? who is stuck in the middle of this two brothers who is like a ticking bomb? you only want one thing. and that is for penelope to be happy.

but unknown to you, penelope actually wants you as much as her siblings wanted you. but don't worry! she is willing to share you with reynold. but not with derrick.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

“ we want you to notice when we're not around, (name). ”

[blog-o-meter]

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

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

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

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

word count: 25,005

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

Part 1 | Part 2

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

Over the next few days, the tension only grew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And God help me, he wasn’t wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What did I want? What would make me happy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I let him.

I let him because I was angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll lose everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I avoided him. I avoided everyone.

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

And then there was Valerie.

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pull it together,” I whispered to myself.

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

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

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nicholas, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you,” I mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once inside, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, my chest heaving as I fought to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. The small, dimly lit space felt like a sanctuary — a place where I could finally breathe, even if just for a moment.

I sank to the floor, my knees pulling to my chest as I buried my face in my hands. My mind raced with everything that had just happened, every word Nicholas had thrown at me, every ounce of his anger and betrayal. It played on a loop, each moment stabbing at my heart like a knife.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to storm out of this house and never look back. But more than anything, I wanted to go back in time and undo everything that had brought me to this moment.

My head jerked up as a faint knock came through the door. For a moment, I froze, my breath caught in my throat.

“Cara mia, are you in there?” Paolo’s voice muffled through.

I hesitated, wiping at my face. I planned on standing, but the door slowly cracked open before opening fully. I looked up to see Paolo, Maria, and my mom all at the door.

Their faces were a mix of concern and quiet understanding. My mom crouched down immediately, her arms opening as she settled on her knees in front of me. I didn’t even hesitate — I crumpled into her embrace, the dam finally breaking as the tears spilled over.

She wrapped me up tightly, her hand cradling the back of my head as I sobbed into her shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay,” she murmured softly, rocking me gently. “Let it out, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Maria crouched next to her, her usually bubbly demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. “(Y/N), you did the best you could,” she said quietly. “You were trying to protect your mom, protect yourself. Nobody can blame you for that.”

Paolo leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, but his expression wasn’t stern. It was softer than I’d ever seen it, his sharp features etched with something almost like sympathy. “That bitch,” he muttered, shaking his head. “She’s vile. Manipulative. None of this is on you, sweetie.”

I tried to speak, to explain, but the words got lost in the overwhelming tide of emotion. My mom held me tighter, her voice a soothing murmur as she whispered reassurances I barely registered through the sound of my own sobs.

“I didn’t want this to happen,” I finally choked out, my voice muffled against her shoulder. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You didn’t,” my mom said firmly, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes. Her own were glassy with unshed tears, her expression fierce. “You didn’t hurt anyone. That woman did. She’s the one who lied and threatened and created this mess — not you.”

Maria nodded, placing a hand on my knee. “She’s right. You’re not the villain here, (Y/N). You’re just caught in the middle of something none of us could’ve seen coming.”

Paolo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And Nicholas,” he added, his tone softening. “He’s hurt and angry now, sì, but he’ll see the truth eventually. Give him time.”

I wiped at my eyes, sniffling as I leaned back against the wall. My mom reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue, gently dabbing at my cheeks like she used to when I was little. Her touch was so tender, so grounding, that it almost made me cry all over again.

“Take a breath, sweetheart,” she said softly. “You’ve been carrying so much on your shoulders. Let us help you carry it now.”

I nodded weakly, taking a shuddering breath as I tried to calm the storm raging inside me. They stayed with me in the small, cramped closet, their presence a quiet reminder that I wasn’t alone, even in the middle of this nightmare.

After a few minutes, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the distinct voice of Mrs. Chavez. “Where is she?” she called out, her tone brisk but tinged with worry.

Paolo stepped out into the hall. “In here,” he said quietly, gesturing to the door.

Mrs. Chavez appeared a moment later, her usual grace and composure slightly shaken. Her gaze softened the moment she saw me huddled on the floor, and she crouched down beside my mom, her hand resting gently on my shoulder.

“Oh, darling,” she murmured, her voice warm and soothing. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea she was putting you through this.”

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes again. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered.

Mrs. Chavez’s expression tightened, her jaw clenching as she glanced toward the hallway where the chaos had unfolded. “It is my fault,” she said firmly. “I brought that woman into our lives, and I didn’t see her for what she really was. But that ends today.”

Her words carried a weight, a promise of action that I hadn’t realized I needed to hear. She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. “You’re not going anywhere, (Y/N),” she said firmly. “You and your mom are part of this family, and no one — not her, not anyone — will take that away from you.”

I nodded, the lump in my throat too big to speak around. My mom squeezed my hand, her own eyes shimmering with gratitude as she glanced at Mrs. Chavez.

“Thank you,” my mom whispered.

Mrs. Chavez offered a small, kind smile before turning back to me. “Take as much time as you need to collect yourself, sweetheart. We’ll handle everything else.”

Her words were a balm, a lifeline in the middle of the chaos. I nodded again, my chest loosening just a fraction as I realized I wasn’t as alone in this as I’d thought.

For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe, to lean into the support being offered to me. My mom’s hand remained on mine, steady and warm, while Maria gave me a reassuring nod, her bright eyes filled with quiet determination. Paolo lingered by the door, his sharp gaze scanning the hallway as though ready to intercept anyone who might disturb this fragile moment of calm.

Mrs. Chavez’s presence was a surprising comfort. I hadn’t expected her to take my side so firmly, especially given everything that had just unraveled. But her unwavering resolve gave me the strength to nod, to whisper, “Okay.”

She straightened, smoothing down her blouse as she glanced back at Paolo. “Gather the staff and let them know they’re dismissed for the evening,” she instructed. “They’ve worked hard enough for tonight; they can come back tomorrow to get rid of everything.”

Paolo nodded curtly, already stepping into the hall to carry out her orders.

“Maria,” Mrs. Chavez continued, her voice softening as she turned to her. “Could you help Mrs. (L/N) with some tea for (Y/N)? I think we all need a moment to regroup.”

Maria gave me a small smile before standing and gesturing to my mom. “Come on, let’s get you both something warm,” she said gently.

My mom hesitated, her grip on my hand tightening slightly as though reluctant to leave me. But I managed a faint smile, squeezing her hand back. “I’ll be okay, Mom,” I said softly. “I promise.”

She searched my face for a moment before nodding, brushing a stray strand of hair from my forehead like she used to when I was a child. “We’ll be right back,” she murmured before standing and following Maria out of the room.

That left me with Mrs. Chavez, who remained crouched beside me, her eyes soft but steady as she studied me.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Chavez,” I whispered.

She gave me a sympathetic smile, “For what?”

I wiped away the salty mucus running down my nose with the collar of my uniform, “Nicholas and I…we were—“

Mrs. Chavez raised a hand gently, stopping me mid-sentence. Her expression remained calm, though her eyes softened with understanding. “Darling, stop,” she said quietly, her voice steady but kind. “I’m not here to judge you or demand explanations. I know my son, and I know his heart.” She paused, her gaze holding mine. “Whatever happened between you two, I can see it’s complicated. But I also see the way he looks at you. That’s not something I can ignore.”

My breath caught in my throat as her words sank in. I searched her face, expecting disappointment or anger, but found neither. Instead, there was only warmth and something that almost looked like pity.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

She let out a soft sigh, reaching out to take my hand in hers. “Life is messy, (Y/N). Love is messy. And sometimes, people find themselves in situations they never intended. That doesn’t make them bad people.” Her thumb brushed over my knuckles in a comforting gesture. “You’re not a bad person, (Y/N).”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I looked down at our joined hands, the weight of her words almost too much to bear. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Or you, or anyone.”

“I know you didn’t. Trust me, this house has always been full of whispers, lies, and drama. This isn’t the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last,” she said softly.

I nodded slowly, though her words didn’t erase the ache in my chest. “He hates me now,” I whispered, the tears threatening to spill over again.

Mrs. Chavez shook her head, her hand moving to gently tilt my chin up so I’d meet her gaze. “Nicholas doesn’t hate you,” she said, her tone steady and certain. “He’s angry, yes. Hurt. But hate? That boy has loved you for far too long to ever hate you.”

Her words soothed the raw wound inside me. But they also felt like a double-edged sword, a reminder of the complicated, messy love I shared with Nicholas.

“What do I do now?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Chavez sighed softly, her thumb brushing against the back of my hand in a reassuring gesture. “You give him time,” she said simply. “Time to process everything, time to heal. And when he’s ready, you show him that you’re still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago.”

I nodded, unable to speak as the lump in my throat grew tighter. Mrs. Chavez gave my hand one last squeeze before standing, her usual grace and composure returning as she smoothed her blouse once more

“Take as long as you need, okay?” she said, her tone gentle but firm.

I nodded again, my voice still caught somewhere between my chest and my throat. She offered me a small, reassuring smile before turning and leaving the room, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

I stayed on the floor for a while after Mrs. Chavez left, her words replaying in my mind. The knot in my chest loosened slightly, replaced by a strange, quiet determination. If she believed in me, if she thought I still had a place here, maybe — just maybe — I could believe it, too.

But it didn’t change the fact that Nicholas was still furious with me. And rightfully so. I had betrayed his trust, whether out of fear or misplaced loyalty to my family, and I couldn’t take that back. All I could do was hope that time, as Mrs. Chavez suggested, might help heal some of the wounds I’d caused.

I pulled myself to my feet, my legs shaky but steady enough to carry me back to the kitchen. The house was quieter now, the hum of activity from earlier replaced by an uneasy calm. When I stepped into the kitchen, my mom and Maria were waiting for me with steaming cups of tea, their expressions a mix of concern and relief.

“Here,” my mom said, pressing a cup into my hands. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

I nodded, taking a sip and letting the warmth spread through me. The tea did help, if only because it gave me something to focus on other than the turmoil swirling inside me.

Maria leaned against the counter, her arms crossed as she studied me. “What now?” she asked, her tone softer than usual.

I shrugged, setting the cup down and wrapping my arms around myself. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess I’ll just… stay out of his way for a while. Give him space.”

Maria nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered my words. “Maybe. But don’t let him push you away completely. Nicholas is stubborn, but he’s also human.”

My mom reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like she used to when I was a child. “You’re stronger than you think, sweetheart,” she said softly. “And you’re not alone in this.”

I smiled weakly, grateful for their support even if I didn’t feel entirely deserving of it. “Thanks, Mom,” I murmured.

Paolo poked his head into the kitchen then, his expression as sharp as ever. “No sign of that cagna,” he announced. “I think she left.”

“Good,” Maria muttered, her lips curling into a smirk. “About time she slithered out of here. I never liked her.”

Paolo’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at me. “You okay?”

I nodded, managing a small smile. “I’ll be fine,” I said, though the words felt more like a hope than a certainty.

He gave me a curt nod before disappearing back into the hallway, leaving me alone with my mom and Maria. I took another sip of tea, the warmth settling in my chest like a fragile shield against the storm that still raged inside me.

The next few days were a blur. The grand estate, usually so full of life and activity, felt quieter, the atmosphere heavy with tension. It seemed everyone was tiptoeing around the aftermath of the blowout, from the staff to Mrs. Chavez. Even Paolo had gone unusually silent, though his protective glares whenever someone mentioned Valerie were hard to miss.

I kept my head down, focusing on my tasks and doing my best to avoid Nicholas. I couldn’t face him—not yet. Every time I passed through the garden or the library or even the kitchen, my heart raced, half-expecting him to appear and demand answers I still wasn’t sure how to give.

Maria, ever the bright spot in my day, kept a close watch on me. She had a way of easing the tension with a quick joke or a simple squeeze of my hand when no one was looking. My mom, too, had become even more attentive, her concern etched into her features as she checked on me constantly.

But Nicholas? He was nowhere to be found, on the estate at least. He had gone back to Los Angeles, back to his place. And it didn’t take long for Valerie to end up winning in the end. She had ended up going to every tabloid that would hear her side of the story, and I bet she was paid pretty well for every single one.

“Valerie: ‘Nicholas Alexander Chavez Cheated On Me’”

“A Broken Engagement: The Truth Behind Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s Secret Affair”

“Hollywood Star Nicholas Alexander Chavez Caught in Love Triangle with Fiancée and Maid”

“Inside Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s Explosive Breakup”

The headlines were relentless, splashed across glossy pages and plastered on every celebrity gossip website. Photographs of Nicholas and Valerie at charity galas and red-carpet events were juxtaposed with grainy, invasive shots of the estate, Nicholas looking rough while out running errands, and exclusive images courtesy of Valerie. 

Her version of events dominated the headlines, painting herself as the tragic victim of a heartless actor and his manipulative fling with the “help.” The stories twisted every detail, skewing the truth into a salacious narrative that catered to gossip-hungry readers. The stories even dragged me into the spotlight, labeling me as everything from a conniving gold digger to an innocent pawn in Nicholas’s supposed “games.”

The narrative was clear: Nicholas was the cheating fiancé, Valerie the heartbroken victim, and I — the villain.

I avoided looking at the articles, but it was impossible to ignore the whispers among the staff, the way Paolo slammed down his phone and ranting in Italian in the kitchen after scrolling through social media. My mom banned any newspapers from the house, her protective instincts going into overdrive as she tried to shield me from the worst of it. Even Mrs. Chavez’s normally serene demeanor had shifted into something more fraught, her jaw tight as she made calls and spoke in hushed tones to her lawyer.

Maria, on the other hand, kept tabs on the media frenzy with a quiet determination. “Look, people are starting to turn on her,” she said one morning, setting her phone on the kitchen counter and showing me some tweets.

Apparently, Valerie’s attempts to gain sympathy were backfiring. Social media sleuths dug up old interviews and photos, piecing together a narrative of a woman who had been desperate for fame and willing to do whatever it took to keep it. Even some of the hired staff that were sub-contracted for the gender reveal had come out saying that Valerie was a liar. That’s when comments began flooding in, questioning her story and calling her out for her lies.

“Can’t believe she lied about her pregnancy!”

“Nicholas doesn’t owe her anything if she was faking a baby.”

“Team Nicholas all the way. She’s sketchy AF.”

Still, the damage was done. Nicholas’s name was dragged through the mud, and so was mine. He disappeared from the estate entirely, no doubt retreating to wherever he could escape the relentless glare of the media.

As for me, I kept my head down and worked as much as I could. I stayed out of sight whenever Mrs. Chavez entertained guests, avoided the staff gatherings, and did my best to pretend I wasn’t the unwitting center of a media circus.

But no matter how hard I tried to move on, the weight of it all lingered. Nicholas’s absence was a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong, every choice I’d made that led to this moment. And every time I glanced at the empty garden where it all came to a head, my chest tightened with a familiar ache.

It wasn’t until almost three weeks later that I finally saw him again. Mrs. Chavez had arranged for Nicholas to return to the estate to finalize some of the logistics with the family lawyers away from the paparazzi stalking him in Los Angeles. I didn’t know if it was intentional on her part or just sheer coincidence that she mentioned it while passing me in the hall, but either way, it felt like my last chance.

By the time his car pulled up to the driveway, the air outside was heavy with the promise of rain, clouds rolling in and casting shadows across the estate. I watched from the kitchen window as Nicholas stepped out, his movements stiff, his shoulders squared like he was bracing himself for a battle. My heart clenched at the sight of him, his face sharper, more guarded than I remembered. He looked tired in his plain white t-shirt and sweatpants, worn down by everything that had unfolded since that disastrous evening.

I stayed frozen as he disappeared into the house, my pulse thundering in my ears. I hadn’t thought beyond this moment — hadn’t planned what I’d say, how I’d approach him. I only knew I couldn’t let him leave again without trying to make things right.

I found him that night sitting by the pool, just as we both liked to do that entire summer all those years ago.

The night air was thick with humidity, the kind that clung to your skin and made every breath feel heavy. The estate was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the trees and the occasional chirp of a cricket. I hesitated at the edge of the garden, the faint glow of the pool lights illuminating Nicholas’s silhouette as he sat at the edge, his feet dangling over the side. A beer rested on the ground next to him, untouched.

I didn’t know what I was expecting — to find him pacing in frustration, to hear him yell at me again, to be met with indifference. But this? The quiet, vulnerable stillness of him caught me off guard.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, the sound of my footsteps muted by the damp grass then shuffled across the concrete. My footsteps were quiet, but he must have heard me because his head tilted slightly, though he didn’t look back. I stopped a few feet away, the pool’s reflection dancing on his face.

“Can I sit?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nicholas didn’t answer right away. He sat there, staring at the rippling water as if the answer he wanted might emerge from its depths. His jaw tensed, his dark eyes unreadable, but eventually, he nodded once, the movement barely perceptible.

I took it as permission and sank down beside him, keeping a careful distance. The concrete beneath me was cool, the faint smell of chlorine mingling with the earthy scent of petrichor. My heart pounded in my chest as the silence stretched between us, heavy and unyielding.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, the words trembling as they left my lips. “For not telling you. For all of it. So much could’ve been avoided if I just…” the words died on my tongue.

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. He turned to me then, his dark brown eyes piercing in the dim light. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“But I do,” I insisted, my chest tightening as I looked at him. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you, and I didn’t. I let her scare me, and I—”

“Baby,” he said softly, the word wrapping around me like a lifeline. His voice was strained, but the sharp edge it had carried before was gone. “I get it. Okay? I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

I blinked at him, my breath catching. “You… do?”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands as if trying to ground himself. “She’s a fucking piece of work,” he muttered, his gaze flicking back to the water. “And she knew exactly what to say to keep you quiet. She’s done it to me too, in her own way. Let’s just say there was a reason I was gonna break up with her before she…” he paused. “I just didn’t see it until it was too late.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “That doesn’t excuse what I did,” I whispered. “Or what I didn’t do.”

Nicholas turned to me again, his gaze softer now, though still heavy with emotion. “I’m not saying it does,” he said quietly. “But I also know you were trying to protect your mom, yourself.”

I nodded, my eyes stinging as I tried to hold back tears. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Nic. I swear I didn’t.”

He exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he reached through the space between us and raked his fingers through the back of my hair, his thumb repeatedly brushing back the hair near my temple. “I know, baby,” he murmured. “And I shouldn’t have screamed at you like that. Especially in front of everyone. Fuck, I was just…”

I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch and the quiet intimacy of the moment. For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension that had weighed on my chest began to ease.

I bit my lip. “You had every right to be angry, Nic,” I said. “I kept something from you that I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry.” When I opened my eyes again, Nicholas had scooted closer, closing the distance between us, and was watching me with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

He shook his head, “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t deserve that, (Y/N). Not after everything. I was never mad at you, not really. I was mad at myself. For letting her… I don’t know, take over my life. For letting her manipulate me for so long. I’m mad at her, at this whole fucking situation. But not you, baby. Never you.”

His words broke something inside me, and the tears I’d been holding back spilled over. I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch as my chest ached with a mix of relief and regret. “I’m so sorry, Nic,” I whispered. “It’s not your fault,” I said softly. “She’s the one that lied about being pregnant in the first place. It’s not your fault you chose to step up when it mattered.”

Nicholas let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head while brushing away the tears that spilled out of me with his thumb. “Yeah, well, I should’ve known better.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. He pulled me into his arms then, holding me close as I buried my face in his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear was a balm to my frayed nerves, a reminder that no matter how messy or complicated things got, we still had each other.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence between us heavy but not unbearable. I could feel the warmth of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing as he.

“No offense, but I never liked her,” I mumbled, wiping away my boogers, “Even before the fake pregnancy thing.”

His chest rumbled beneath my ear as he let out an audible laugh then, a genuine one. “You don’t say,” Nicholas replied, his tone light but with an edge of teasing. His laughter warmed me, a sound I hadn’t realized I missed so much. His hand stayed on my back, tracing slow, calming circles as he added, “What gave it away? The constant passive-aggressive digs or the terrifyingly fake smile?”

I pulled back slightly, my tears drying as I looked up at him. “Both. And the way she treated everyone like shit.” I sniffled, a wry smile tugging at my lips despite everything. “She wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Nicholas smirked, shaking his head. “You should’ve told her off way sooner.”

“I thought about it,” I admitted, letting out a soft laugh. “But I couldn’t defy the soon-to-be lady of the house now, could I?”

His smirk faltered, his expression softening as he cupped my cheek. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that, baby. Especially not because of me.”

“It wasn’t just because of you,” I said quickly, placing my hand over his. “I stayed because of my mom and Mrs. Chavez. And…” I hesitated, looking down before meeting his gaze again. “And maybe because I wasn’t ready to let go of this place. Of… you.”

Nicholas’s dark eyes searched mine, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek. “You don’t have to let go,” he murmured. “Not of us. Not anymore.”

I blinked up at him, my heart swelling with a fragile hope I hadn’t dared to feel before. “You mean that?”

He nodded, leaning down so his forehead rested against mine. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, (Y/N). But letting you go back then? That was the worst one, and I’m not making it again.”

My breath caught, the sincerity in his voice and the closeness of his touch grounding me. “I love you, Nic. So much. I never stopped. Never.”

Nicholas exhaled deeply, his fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck as he pulled me closer, his lips brushing softly against my forehead. “I never stopped loving you, too,” he murmured, his voice low and raw with emotion. “But you already knew that,” he smirked ever so slightly.

The rain began to fall in gentle droplets, cool against the humid air, but neither of us moved. The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body, and the truth we had both been too afraid to confront until now.

Nicholas tilted my chin up with his fingers, his dark brown eyes searching mine. “Can we start over?” he asked finally, his voice soft but filled with quiet hope.

My heart ached at the tenderness in his words, the vulnerability in his gaze. I nodded slowly, a small, shaky smile tugging at my lips.

Nicholas let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing as a faint smile crossed his lips. “Good,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face.

His lips found mine then, soft and tentative at first, as though testing the fragile bond between us. But when I didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his hands tightening around my waist as he pulled me flush against him. I melted into him, my fingers clutching at his shirt as the rain grew heavier, soaking us both.

The cool droplets mixed with the heat of his touch, the contrast igniting something wild and desperate within me. Nicholas groaned against my lips, his hands roaming over my back before settling on my hips, pulling me onto his lap. My skirt bunched around my thighs, the wet fabric clinging to my skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. All that mattered was him — his lips, his hands, the way he made me feel like the only person in the world.

His hands moved up, gripping the sides of my waist as he kissed me like it was the only thing tethering him to this earth. I shifted in his lap, straddling him, the fabric of my soaked skirt bunching between us. His mouth left mine to trail down my neck, his hot breath sending shivers through me despite the cool rain cascading over us.

“God,” Nicholas murmured against my skin, his voice rough and low. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed this? Missed you?”

I didn’t trust my voice to reply, not when his lips were doing things that made coherent thought impossible. Instead, I tilted my head to give him better access, my fingers threading through his damp hair. His hands roamed down, sliding beneath the hem of my shirt and brushing against the bare skin of my back, sending electric jolts straight to my core.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, his lips pausing just below my ear.

I let out a breathless laugh, threading my fingers through his damp hair as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot on my neck. “Right back at you, baby.”

He pulled back at the word, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “Say that again.”

“Baby,” I whispered, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his jaw.

He chuckled, low and throaty, the sound vibrating against my skin. I grabbed his face and pulled his lips back to mine. The kiss was urgent now, full of pent-up desire and weeks of tension finally snapping.

His hands gripped my thighs, sliding upward beneath the wet fabric of my skirt until his fingers found the edge of my panties.The sound of the rain grew louder, the rhythmic patter against the pool’s surface blending with our labored breathing and soft moans.

He shifted, guiding me back until I was lying flat against the wet concrete, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from both of us. His body covered mine, his weight pressing me down in the most delicious way as his hands continued their exploration, finding every inch of skin he could reach.

“Fuck,” he muttered against my lips, his voice raw with need. “I’ve been dying for this—dying for you.”

My fingers dug into his back as he kissed me with a hunger that felt almost feral, his hands tugging my soaked panties down my legs and tossing them aside. His lips found my collarbone, trailing wet kisses down my chest as his hand slid between my thighs, his touch igniting sparks everywhere he went.

I gasped, my head falling back against the concrete as his fingers explored, teasing and coaxing reactions from me that left me trembling. The rain kept falling, the cool droplets mingling with the heat of our bodies, and the world beyond us faded away.

“I need you to promise me something,” he murmured, his voice low as his lips returned to mine.

“What?” I breathed, my voice shaky as I looked up at him. His dark brown eyes burned with intensity, his face inches from mine.

“Promise me you’ll never keep anything from me again,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I don’t care what it is. If something’s wrong, if someone’s fucking with you—I need to know.”

My chest ached at the raw vulnerability in his voice, the weight of his words settling heavily between us. “I promise,” I whispered, my hands framing his face. “I won’t keep anything from you ever again. You mean too much to me, Nic.”

His lips crashed into mine again, his relief palpable as he kissed me with a passion that left me breathless. “Good,” he murmured against my mouth. “Because I’d fucking move heaven and earth for you, (Y/N). Do you hear me? You’re my everything.”

My breath hitched at his words, the sheer intensity of his confession leaving me speechless. His forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with mine as the rain continued to fall in a relentless rhythm around us.

“You’re my everything, too,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.

His hands slid down my body, tracing every curve and hollow as if memorizing me all over again. When his fingers slipped between my thighs, I let out a soft gasp, my hips instinctively rising to meet his touch. He groaned against my lips, his breath hot and ragged as he murmured my name.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby,” he whispered, his forehead still resting against mine as his fingers moved in slow, torturous circles. “Missed the way you feel. The way you taste. The way you look at me like I’m the only man in the world.”

“You are,” I breathed, my voice trembling as I clung to him.

Nicholas froze at my words, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten. His fingers stilled for a moment, resting against me as he let out a shaky breath.

My hand came up to cradle his face, my thumb brushing over the sharp line of his jaw. “You’ve always been.”

A low, guttural sound escaped him, and he captured my lips in a searing kiss that left me dizzy. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him as his mouth claimed mine with a hunger that sent sparks of heat coursing through my body.

The rain fell harder, soaking us both to the skin, but neither of us cared. The world around us disappeared, leaving only the sound of our ragged breathing and the feel of his body pressing against mine. His hands roamed my body, exploring every inch of me as if rediscovering a treasure he thought he’d lost.

He leaned down, his lips trailing over my neck, my collarbone, leaving a fiery path in their wake. My back arched against the wet concrete, and he took the opportunity to push my shirt higher, exposing my damp skin to the cool night air. His lips followed, pressing kisses to my stomach, my ribs, his breath warm and teasing.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at me. His hands slid beneath my thighs, spreading them as he knelt between my legs. 

Before I could respond, his mouth replaced his fingers, and a cry escaped my lips as he teased me with his tongue. The intensity of his touch, the way he seemed to worship me, made my head spin. My hands tangled in his rain-soaked hair, pulling him closer as he sent wave after wave of pleasure crashing through me.

Nicholas’s hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. His mouth moved with a deliberate slowness that drove me wild, each flick of his tongue, every soft, teasing suck a reminder of how much he had missed me, how much he wanted me. The rain blurred my vision, mingling with the tears that slid down my face, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was him and the way he was unraveling me with every touch.

My breath hitched, my thighs trembling against his shoulders. I tried to push up, to chase the feeling building inside me, but his hands held me down firmly. “Not so fast,” he whispered, his lips brushing over my sensitive skin.

I whimpered, my fingers gripping his hair as he continued his slow, torturous rhythm. My body writhed against the slick concrete, a desperate plea for more, for release. But Nicholas took his time, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulled from me.

“Please,” I gasped, my voice breaking as I tugged at his hair. “Nic, I need—”

He lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The sight of him—his rain-drenched hair, the water dripping down his sharp jaw, and the raw hunger in his gaze—made my stomach flip. “You need what, baby?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “Tell me.”

“You,” I breathed, the word slipping out before I could think. “I need you, Nic. Please.”

He sat on his knees then, his body towering over mine, rainwater dripping from his hair onto my flushed skin. His wet white shirt clung to every peak and valley of his sculpted muscles, his nipples visible through the soaked fabric.

Nicholas’s gaze darkened as his hands moved to the hem of his soaked shirt, peeling it away and revealing the smooth, golden skin beneath. The rain traced rivulets down his chest, following the sharp contours of his muscles. His body, damp and glistening, hovered over mine like a storm ready to break.

I reached for him, my hands trailing up his arms and across his chest as if grounding myself to him. My fingers skimmed over the moles on his torso — marks I’d memorized long ago. His breath hitched when I touched him, and for a moment, the raw vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

I sat up, planting kisses near his naval and working my way upwards. He embraced me then, lifting us both and moving to a nearby chaise lounge so we could escape the unforgiving concrete beneath us.

The rain continued to fall, heavier now, soaking every inch of us as he settled me onto the lounge. He slipped my skirt off and wrapped my legs around him, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down to reveal his hardened length. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he leaned down, capturing my lips in a kiss that was both tender and full of unspoken urgency.

The rain fell around us, creating a rhythm that matched the rising tension between our bodies. Nicholas pressed his forehead against mine, his hand sliding between us to guide himself to my entrance.

“Slow, please,” I whispered but still audible over the heavy patter of the rain.

Nicholas stilled, his dark eyes locked on mine as he nodded, the raw emotion in his gaze making my chest tighten. He shifted closer, his hands framing my face as if grounding himself. “Slow,” he repeated, his voice hoarse, reverent. “I promise, baby.”

His lips found mine again, softer this time, the urgency giving way to something deeper, more deliberate. I felt the tip of him press against me, a teasing pressure that sent a shiver down my spine. He groaned against my mouth, his hands trembling slightly as he moved with painstaking care, entering me inch by inch.

My breath hitched, my fingers clutching at his shoulders as the stretch filled me, the sensation overwhelming but perfect and everything I needed — what we needed. Nicholas buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my rain-soaked skin as he whispered my name, over and over.

I gasped, my body arching into his as he pushed further, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips never left my skin, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along my neck, my collarbone, as if grounding himself in the moment. Each kiss was laced with quiet apologies, murmured words of regret and reassurance that made my heart ache and swell at the same time.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough and trembling as he stilled inside me. His hands gripped my hips, anchoring us together. “I’m so fucking sorry for not fighting for you then, for now.”

Tears mingled with the rain on my face, my fingers threading through his wet hair as I pressed my lips to his temple. “I’m sorry, too,” I whispered back, my voice breaking.

Nicholas groaned softly, his hands trailing up my sides, brushing over my ribs as if trying to remind himself I was real, that we were here. I cupped his face, forcing him to look at me, to see the sincerity in my eyes.

His lips crashed into mine, the kiss tender but filled with a desperate need that made my heart race. Slowly, he began to move, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that was agonizingly slow, deliberate, and full of love. Each thrust was a reminder of everything we’d been through, every moment that had brought us to this point. It wasn’t just physical — it was emotional, a reconnection of souls that had been lost in the chaos.

I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as he filled me completely, his movements steady and unhurried. The rain soaked us to the bone, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way he made me feel — seen, cherished, loved in a way that words couldn’t capture.

Nicholas’s forehead pressed against mine as his rhythm stayed slow, deliberate, and tender, his lips brushing against my temple as though grounding us in the moment. Each stroke sent a shiver through me, a soft gasp escaping my lips as I clung to him. The rain was relentless, but the cool droplets against my overheated skin only heightened every sensation.

“Baby,” he murmured against my ear, his voice raw with emotion, “Do you feel that? How much I fucking love you?”

I nodded, unable to form words, my hands trailing up his rain-slicked back to tangle in his hair. His pace remained torturous, each thrust measured and purposeful. His lips found mine again, soft and searching, and I felt the unspoken apologies in every kiss, the promises in every caress.

His lips claimed mine again, slow and deep, as though trying to pour every ounce of his love and regret into that single kiss. The world around us faded away, the storm intensifying as the rain fell even harder, soaking our bodies as we moved together.

Every roll of his hips, every kiss, every whispered word was a balm to the wounds we’d both carried for far too long. There was no urgency, no desperation — only the deliberate, unyielding connection between us. His hands roamed over my body, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin that made me tremble beneath him.

Our movements were unhurried, each touch, each kiss, deliberate, as though we were weaving the pieces of ourselves back together. Nicholas held me like I was something sacred, his hands cradling my face, his lips brushing over mine with a tenderness that made my chest ache. The rain continued to fall, the steady rhythm against the pool blending with our breaths, our sighs.

He whispered my name like a mantra, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against mine as his hips moved against me in a rhythm that felt like poetry.

Tears blurred my vision. “I love you, too,” I whispered, the words spilling from my lips like a vow. “Always.”

His pace quickened slightly, the pressure building between us as his movements became more purposeful, more insistent. The heat pooling in my core grew, spreading through my body like wildfire as he pushed me closer to the edge. Nicholas’s hand rested on the one I had curled around his hair, intertwining his fingers with mine and pinning my arm above my head.

His lips hovered just above mine, his breath mingling with mine as the rhythm of his hips grew firmer, more insistent. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice thick and raw, every word vibrating through me. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

“Nic…” I gasped, my voice trembling as my body arched beneath him, seeking more, craving everything he had to give. The rain poured down around us, the sound a backdrop to the symphony of our breaths, our moans, the quiet gasps that escaped every time he moved inside me.

A groan tore from his throat, his lips crashing against mine as if he couldn’t stand the distance between us for another second. His tongue swept into my mouth, desperate and demanding, as his pace quickened, each thrust more deliberate, more consuming.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he growled against my lips, his voice ragged and trembling with restraint.

Nicholas pressed deeper, his grip on my hand tightening as he brought his other hand to my waist, holding me firmly beneath him. His movements grew more purposeful, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure radiating through my entire body. His control was slipping, and I could feel the tension coiled within him, the sheer effort it took for him to keep his pace measured and deliberate.

“I’m yours,” he growled, his voice low and guttural, each word punctuated by the steady rhythm of his hips. “I’ve always been yours, baby.”

I moaned in response, unable to form coherent words as he pushed me closer to the edge. The rain was relentless, soaking us both as it blurred the lines between where he ended and I began. My fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer, as if the mere inches between us were unbearable.

Nicholas shifted, his weight pressing into me as he lifted my leg over his shoulder so he could hit deeper and reach that spongy spot inside me until I cried out. His lips moved to my neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

“Right there, baby?” Nicholas growled against my neck, his voice thick with desire as his teeth grazed my skin.

“Yes,” I gasped, my hands clutching at his damp shoulders, nails digging into his slick skin. “Oh, my God, Nic. Don’t stop.”

His hips snapped harder, the rhythm deliberate yet overwhelming as he drove into me again and again. The rain hammered down, but the heat between us only grew. Nicholas leaned back just enough to look into my eyes, his face intense and wild, water dripping down his sharp cheekbones.

“You like it when I fuck you like this, baby?” he rasped, his free hand trailing down my waist to grip my thigh. “When I make you scream my name?”

“Yes!” I cried out, my voice raw as my body arched beneath him. Every nerve in my body was alive, every touch, every word pushing me closer to the edge. “Nic, I’m so close.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said through gritted teeth, his lips capturing mine in a brutal, possessive kiss. “I always do.”

My nails raked down his back as he thrust harder, deeper, each movement building the pressure inside me until it was unbearable. His growls mixed with my cries, the sound of our bodies moving together in the rain echoing into the night.

“I love watching you like this,” he whispered, his breath hot against my lips as he gazed down at me. “Taking me so perfectly. Fuck, you’re incredible.”

His words pushed me over the edge, my body tightening around him as I shattered. A scream tore from my lips, and he swallowed it with a searing kiss, his own movements growing erratic as he chased his release.

“Baby,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hips jerked against mine. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” I gasped, pulling him closer, my legs tightening around him. “I’m yours, Nic. Always.”

With a guttural growl, he buried himself deep, his body shuddering as he spilled inside me, filling me completely. The tension in his shoulders melted away as he collapsed against me, his forehead resting against mine as he fought to catch his breath.

Nicholas wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as we lay tangled together on the lounge chair. For several minutes, neither of us moved, the rain cascading over us like a curtain, shielding us from the world outside as it refused to let up. The weight of everything — the fight, the lies, the media circus — seemed to fade, leaving only the steady rhythm of his breathing and the way his chest rose and fell against mine.

Nicholas’s hands traced gentle patterns along my back, his touch soothing as he pressed a lingering kiss to my damp forehead. “I’m not letting you go again,” he murmured, his voice low and resolute.

I tightened my grip around him, my fingers tracing the curve of his shoulder. “Me neither,” I whispered back. “Not this time.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his dark gaze searching mine for any hint of doubt. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him because a soft, almost shy smile tugged at his lips — a glimpse of the Nicholas I had fallen in love with so many years ago.

“Good,” he said, his hand coming up to brush a strand of wet hair from my face. He rested his chin atop my head, his fingers trailing down my back in soothing strokes. “We should probably get inside,” he said after a while, his voice tinged with reluctant amusement. “Before we catch pneumonia.”

“Five more minutes,” I sighed, burying my face in his chest and hugging him tighter.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Seriously, baby, you’re shivering.”

I hadn’t even noticed until he mentioned it. The wind was beginning to pick up, and there was only so much warmth Nicholas’s body could provide in the weather. I nodded, reluctantly pulling away from him slightly. With a grunt, Nicholas pushed himself to his feet, lifting me with him. My legs felt unsteady beneath me, but his arms stayed wrapped securely around my waist, steadying me as he bent down to pick up our discarded clothes.

Nicholas draped his wet shirt over his shoulder and handed me my skirt and panties. I took them silently, my cheeks warming as the reality of what had just happened settled over me. I slipped my panties back on, the damp fabric clinging to me uncomfortably, and stepped into my skirt.

He shrugged on his wet shirt, the fabric clinging to his chest, and bent down to pick up my soaked blouse, carefully opening it by the collar so the fabric wouldn’t drag on my hair as I slipped it on. His touch lingered on my arms for a moment, his dark eyes searching mine. I could see the softness there now, a quiet tenderness that made my chest ache.

Nicholas’s lips quirked into a half-smile, though his concern didn’t waver. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”

He kept an arm wrapped around my waist as we made our way back toward the house, the rain continuing its relentless downpour. My shoes squelched against the wet stone path, and I winced at the uncomfortable sensation of cold fabric clinging to my legs.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing down at me.

I let out a shaky laugh, wrapping my arms around myself. “I’ll survive.”

Nicholas’s arm tightened around me, his body warm against my side despite the chill. “You’re a trooper, baby. But next time? We’re doing this somewhere dry.”

I laughed softly, the sound shaky but real, and leaned into him as we approached the door. We kicked off both of our shoes and socks, leaving them to dry outside.

Nicholas held the door open for me, his hand lingering on the small of my back as I stepped inside. The warmth of the house enveloped us immediately, and I let out a relieved sigh as the shivers that had wracked my body began to subside.The faint hum of the staff’s voices carried from the kitchen, but otherwise, the house was quiet.

The second we stepped inside, dripping wet and shivering from the rain, Mrs. Chavez’s voice cut through the air as she approached us from the kitchen. “Maria, grab some towels and clean clothes!” she called out, her tone brisk but not unkind. “Oh, my god, you two look like a pair of drowned kittens,” she said as she took in our soaked clothes and disheveled appearances.

Maria appeared within a minute or two, thick, fluffy towels in one arm and clean clothes in the other.

“What in the world were you two doing out there?” Mrs. Chavez asked, her eyes wide.

He let out a soft chuckle, reaching for a towel and slinging one towel around his neck, “Just talking.” He grabbed the other towel, unfolding it and holding it open with both hands, and turned his attention to me. “Here, baby,” he spoke softly as he carefully patted my face dry before draping the towel over my back and proceeding to dry my arms.

I stood still, letting Nicholas dry me off, his touch tender and unhurried. He worked his way down my arms and over my shoulders, his brow furrowed in concentration as if this simple act was the most important thing in the world. The towel was warm and soft, a stark contrast to the icy fabric clinging to my skin.

Mrs. Chavez’s eyes lingered on the way Nicholas’s hand rested protectively against me. Her expression softened, and she let out a quiet sigh. There was a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and I swore I saw a glimmer of relief in her eyes. “Well, I hope you’ve managed to sort things out,” she said, her tone gentler now. “But next time, perhaps consider talking indoors,” he sighed before walking off.

Maria smirked as she handed me some dry clothes. “Here, sweetheart. You two better warm up before you catch colds. Paolo has some soup on the stove if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, Maria,” I murmured, clutching the clothes to my chest.

Nicholas gently tugged on my damp blouse. “Here, let me help you.”

I hesitated, my cheeks flushing under Maria’s watchful gaze, but she waved me off with a wink. “I’ll give you two a minute,” she said, turning on her heel and disappearing back into the kitchen.

The room felt quieter without her, the hum of the rain outside the only sound as Nicholas carefully peeled off my wet blouse. His fingers brushed against my skin, and I shivered — not from the cold this time, but from the heat of his touch. His dark eyes stayed locked on mine, and I could see the unspoken emotions swirling in their depths — concern, affection, and something deeper that made my stomach flutter despite the chill.

“You don’t have to,” I murmured, clutching the dry clothes tighter against my chest.

“I want to,” he said softly, his voice low but firm. “You slipped through my fingers once; I’m not letting it happen again.”

The way he said it, so tender and unyielding, left me breathless. He reached for the dry shirt and slipped it over my head, his hands lingering at my waist as he adjusted the hem.

Nicholas crouched in front of me, his hands sliding down to hook themselves around the waistband of my skirt. He pulled it off with care, leaving me standing in just my damp panties. His eyes flicked up to mine, his dark gaze soft but intense.

“Underwear, too?” he hummed.

I hesitated for a heartbeat, my cheeks burning under his gaze. But there was no judgment in his eyes — only concern and a quiet, unwavering devotion that made my heart ache. I looked around to see if anybody was lingering and nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Nicholas’s hands moved with deliberate care, his fingers brushing against my hips as he slid my soaked panties down my legs. The air between us felt charged, every movement laden with unspoken emotion. He kept his eyes on mine, his touch tender and unhurried, as if he were handling something fragile.

Once the damp fabric pooled around my ankles, he picked it up and placed it neatly with the rest of the wet clothes. He reached for the dry sweatpants Maria had provided. “Step in, baby.”

I placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, stepping into the sweatpants as he guided them up my legs, pulling the waistband up. His hands rested lightly on my hips, his thumbs brushing against the fabric as he stood, his face inches from mine. The warmth of the dry fabric against my skin was a welcome relief, but it was the quiet intimacy of the moment that left me breathless.

Nicholas reached out, tucking a strand of damp hair behind my ear. His touch lingered, his dark eyes searching mine. “I’ll always take care of you,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You know that, right?”

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, nodding as I placed a hand on his chest. “I know.” When he reached for the towel again to dry my hair, I stopped him with a light touch on his wrist. “Your turn,” I said, nodding toward his soaked shirt.

Nicholas smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes. “That’s fair.” He peeled off the wet fabric, his muscles rippling with the motion, and my breath caught at the sight of him — the way the light coming from the chandelier above us highlighted every line and curve.

I reached for the towel he’d left draped around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to dry his hair. He bent slightly to make it easier for me, a playful grin tugging at his lips as I worked. “You’re really getting into this, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at my lips. “Just returning the favor.”

I moved the towel down to dry his arm and torso, carefully working as if I could undo the rain’s lingering touch. Nicholas stood perfectly still, letting me take my time, his dark eyes following my every move. There was a vulnerability in his expression, something unspoken but deeply felt that made my chest tighten.

I grabbed the spare shirt Maria had set aside for him, bunching it up to the collar and shrugging it over Nicholas’s head. As the soft fabric fell into place, I smoothed my hands over his chest, brushing away any wrinkles. Then, I proceed to tug down at his sweatpants, making sure to shield him with my body in case anybody walked in.

Nicholas chuckled softly as he rested his hands on my hips, steadying himself as I worked. His voice was warm and teasing, a soft contrast to the intensity of everything we’d just shared. “If you wanted to undress me again, baby, all you had to do was ask,” he said as he stepped out of his wet bottoms and kicked them off to the side.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the heat that rose in my cheeks. “I’m making sure you don’t catch a cold,” I said matter-of-factly, though my voice trembled slightly.

I crouched down carefully, still wanting to keep Nicholas modest, and held the sweatpants open for him to step into. One leg at a time, he stepped into them. I quickly pulled them up and adjusted the waistband, my fingers lingering at his sides for a moment before stepping back.

His hands settled on my hips as I finished, his touch light but grounding. He looked at me for a moment, and I grew a little bit shy. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

I smiled, a small, lopsided thing. “You’re welcome.”

The playful glint in his eyes was replaced by something deeper, more serious. “You know, I’ve spent nights thinking about this — us taking care of each other.” His voice dropped to a whisper, the weight of his words settling heavily between us. “I thought about what it would be like to have you like this. Not just for a moment, not just for a summer, but always. Waking up next to you. Taking care of you. Letting you take care of me.”

My breath hitched as I searched his eyes, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stealing the words from my lips. I wanted to tell him I’d thought the same thing, dreamed of it, even in the moments when I’d tried to convince myself it was impossible. But the lump in my throat made it impossible to speak.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, (Y/N),” he continued, his thumb brushing softly against my hip. “I know I said that I would regret not going to Los Angeles, but I think my biggest regret was ever leaving you behind. And I’m not doing that again. You hear me?”

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, my hands coming up to rest on his chest. His heart beat steady and strong beneath my palm, a rhythm that grounded me. “I hear you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I couldn’t say.

His jaw tightened, his dark eyes shining with an intensity that made my chest ache. “Okay,” he said softly, his hands sliding up to cup my face. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

I let out a watery laugh, the sound trembling but real as my hands gripped the front of his shirt as if to anchor myself to him. Nicholas’s lips found mine again, soft and deliberate, as though sealing our words with a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate — it was steady, full of quiet assurance and unspoken promises. The world around us seemed to fall away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of our breathing.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, the corners of his mouth tugged into a small, almost shy smile. He pulled me into his arms, his embrace warm and secure. For the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of peace, as though the storm that had raged between us was finally settling.

“Let’s get that soup,” he murmured after a moment, pressing a kiss to my hair.

I laughed softly against his chest, the sound shaky but genuine then smiled, letting him guide me toward the kitchen.

The rain continued to fall outside, but for the first time, it felt like it wasn’t a storm but a fresh start, washing away everything that had come before. And with Nicholas’s hand warm in mine, I felt like maybe we’d finally found our way back to each other — for good.

[hyukascampfire]

U JUMPED UP N CLICKED YOUR HEELS WHEN I FOLLOWED, I JUMPED UP AND CLICKED MY HEELS WHEN I SAW THIS REBLOG. omg.

hehe. world building is my favorite part. especially since my fics lean toward fantasy,, i always try to make it all immersive and believable!!

literally was not aware there was even a plural for geas, i had to dance around it while writing. why didn’t i think to look that up…😓 ANYWAY YES taehyun is definitely gravitational right off the bat. for me, at least. he is stiff and cold, but i don’t think that he necessarily falls into the typical fantasy brooding mmc category. especially after part two, i think his character begins to develop those layers that makes him who he is. i can’t say that he’s not brooding or cold, but i think it comes from a different place. i absolutely agree that he really does embody cold. not going to lie, after working on his character for so long, he’s the first thing i associate with him.

AND YES yeonjun as warmth by sunlight is so correct. he’s not necessarily flames, but more like sunlight on your skin after being cold for so long. he’s so gentle with MC in a way that she hasn’t known,, i’d be the same girl. IM SO HAPPY TO SEE SOMEONE ROOTING FOR YEONJUN JUST A LITTLE BIT. not because i’m biased,, cause of course i have two hands,, BUT ITS JUST BEEN SO LONG. this nation is gripped by taehyun. he always destroys yeonjun in the polls 😭

W yeonjun, writing him came so easy. i still vividly remember the moment i wrote the introduction to his character. omg. he just had a personality that STICKJKJS with you. he is magnetic, and i lowkey feel whimsy even while writing him. he’s just so sensual and intimate on so many different levels. i’d probably give up my mf life for him too.

i also really do adore MC. she’s very multi-faceted. she’s not necessarily always strong or upright, but she has her own set of morals and honestly just wants so little. it kinda sucks that what she does finally allow herself to ask for puts her in the situations it does. i feel a great amount of sympathy for her. i also am a person that thinks that emotion and being in touch with it is strong in its own right, and i absolutely get MC for searching for it.

SLOW BURNNN that’s my shit. waiter, pls give me yearning and fleeting touch for a hundred thousand more words! im not stranger to a 5k pwp and i thoroughly enjoy writing those (yum.) but i truly do love the word ‘almost’, and letting characters ache for each other. mmm. i’m a hoe for jealousy, but with taehyun it is especially different. i just do not know how to put it into words except for 😻💦🤲

the people love beomgyu, that silly forest creature. i’ve grown so attached to his character as well. he really is holding up the found family end of this fic all on his own. his power 😭

thank you so much for giving me this beautiful rb to read and giggle over as well. i adore you so much NEXT PART NEXT PART 🍽️

𝓘N WHICH 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 93.3k﹙ and counting! ﹚

genre high fantasy/faerie, smut, angst ˒ ˒

pairings faerie!taehyun x reader, faerie!yeonjun x reader

warnings violence, death, death of animals, smut (specific tags will be listed before each chapter), childhood trauma & mentions of abuse, jealousy, controlling & yandere relationship dynamics, unprotected sex, original characters but they only last for small amounts of time & act as story catalysts, fem! reader

˒ ˒ want a look into the world? here’s the pinterest board !! ༘⋆

﹙ 🪕﹚ playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

: ̗̀﹙❆﹚𝓅arts . : ↘︎

one ˒ two ˒ three ˒ four ˒ five ˒ ...🪶

© hyukascampfire please do not steal, plagiarize, or repost any of my works.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ִֶָ mullet!stan pines x farmer's daughter!reader ♡༉‧₊˚.

honestly idk what happened i just wrote this in like 40 minutes because the idea wouldn’t leave me alone, i never write this fast sorry for the random but i love that dynamic 🤍

Gravity Falls market days were a real mess you’d grown up in but never quite adjusted to. the sun sat high and too mean, slanting golden light across the rows of wooden stalls and voices carried sharp over the sound of shuffling feet. you didn’t mind the noise because it made the hours feel faster.

your hands worked quickly, sorting the last of the peaches into the old wicker basket, as you clearly remembered your mom’s words “don’t bruise the fruit, honey; folks don’t buy what looks spoiled.” you smoothed your palm over the fabric of your overalls, standing up straight to greet the next customer and—

he wasn’t what you expected and you weren’t sure what to make of him. broad shoulders under a faded red jacket, hands stuffed into his pockets, huge dark bags under his eyes. he looked rough, unpolished you'd say, like he’d stepped out of a life far removed from your quiet one and found himself here by accident.

he nodded toward your baskets. “how much for the peaches?”

you sized him up. “depends,” you answered. “you actually gonna pay?”

that caught him off guard, did he really look that bad? his lips twitched into grin. “didn’t know this place came with an interrogation.”

“it’s not interrogation,” you shot back, leaning against the edge of the stall. “it’s just business. besides, you look like the type to run off with free samples.”

he laughed then. “well, guess you caught me,” he held his hands up like he’d been caught red-handed. “but im starving here. what’s it gonna take to get one of—”

“ahh, you must be the scientist everyone talks about.” you interrupted him, shifting the basket awkwardly against your hip.

“uh right, that's me.”

“mom mentioned you,” you continued, even though he didn't seem in the mood for conversation. “said you were. . . weird.” the word came out of your mouth before you even realized it, and your cheeks instantly flushed. great. off to a fantastic start.

but he didn't seem offended. on the contrary, he looked amused, slightly raising his eyebrows. “weird, huh?”

“her words, not mine,” you explained quickly, though it wasn't exactly untrue. “but yeah. she said you moved out here to study something? bugs? dirt?”

he chuckled. “somethin’ like that. but im pretty hungry. so what’s it gonna take to get one of those?”

you should’ve turned him away, told him to come back with cash like everyone else. but your gut told you he’d actually gone a little too long without a decent meal. yeah, thats how bad he looked.

so you reached into the basket and handed him one.

“on the house,” you said.

he blinked at you, caught somewhere between surprise and suspicion. “seriously?”

“just this once,” you warned. “but if you come back, i expect full price.”

“aww, isn't that adorable, thank you, sweetie.” he took the peach, turning it over in his hands. “heard people here mentioning you're generous girl.”

...

the sun begins its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink as you ride your bicycle down the lonely country road. the day has been long, filled with selling farm food. your hat shields your face from the fading light, but a chill is settling in as the evening approaches.

the basket on your bike rattled with what was left of the day’s haul, less than you’d hoped for but enough to keep the house running another week. your legs ached from pedaling though. the cold was creeping in now.

when the headlights appeared behind you, cutting through the soft twilight, you almost didn’t notice. but then the car slowed, pulling up beside you and you heard the window roll down.

“need a lift?” a smoky voice asked.

it was him. Stanford. the same red jacket, the same grin. he surely hadn’t been expecting to see you but was damn happy about it anyway.

you hesitated as you looked at him and his car, tightening your hands around the handlebars. “and leave my bike?”

“throw it in the back,” he told you, jerking his thumb toward the back seat. “unless you’re real set on freezing out here.”

you glanced at the empty road stretching ahead of you, then back at Stanford. he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to offer something for nothing, but he also didn’t seem like the kind to push it if you said no.

so you nodded. Stanley gave you a reassuring smile. “hop in, toots. it's getting cold.” you let him haul the bike into the back before climbing into the passenger seat. the warmth from inside is immediate, a stark contrast to the cool evening air.

he didn’t say much at first, just flicked on the radio and kept his eyes on the road. but then, without looking over, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to you.

“here, take this. it’s not much, but it’ll keep you warm.”

you took the fabric and when you putted it around your shoulders, you felt the softness of it against your skin, grateful for the gesture. “thank you,” it was too big, the sleeves hanging loose past your wrists, but it was so warm. although it smelled very strongly of cigarettes.

he shrugged modestly. “no problem. it’s the least i can do after the way you treated me last week.”

“so,” he said after a beat, glancing over with that same crooked grin. “what’s a farmer’s daughter doin’ out on the road this late?”

you pulled the jacket tighter around you. “work doesn’t stop just ‘cause the sun goes down.”

“hard worker, huh? guess your mom was right about you.”

you glanced at him in surprise and furrowed your brow. “you keep bringing up my mom like you actually know her.” you said suspiciously.

“ran into her a couple weeks ago,” he admitted. “she was real proud, talkin’ ‘bout how her daughter’s the backbone of the farm.”

heat rose to your cheeks and you turned your gaze back to the road. “she talks too much.”

“nah, she’s just proud of you.” this time, you stayed quiet, letting the hum of the engine carry you the rest of the way home.

...

the next time you see him, it’s at the farm on early morning, when dew still clings to the grass and the sky’s a pale, watercolor wash. you’d barely had time to start on your chores when that same old car rumbled down the dirt track.

Stanley stepped out, wearing that red jacket you’d given back last night, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “you forgot your bike.”

“you didn’t have to bring it all the way here.” you smiled shyly

“well,” he glanced around, assessing the place, “figured you could use it more than i could. besides, wasn’t much of a detour.”

in addition, it was the first time Stan met your dog as he stayed at the farm to try the freshly baked apple pie that you offered.

you were hauling a basket of fresh vegetables from the field when you heard a low, warning growl. you looked up, biting back a grin. “she won’t bite.”

“uh-huh,” Stan said, standing frozen in place as the big scruffy mutt circled him.

you set the basket down, whistling low, and your dog trotted over, tail wagging now that you’d given the all-clear. “this is Molly,” you said, ruffling her ears. “dont worry, she’s just protective.”

Stan crouched slowly, one knee to the dirt, sticking his hand out like he was afraid she might lunge. Molly sniffed him once, then pressed her head against his palm, tail thumping in approval.

“well, look at that,” he said, scratching behind her ears. his hands are so big, calloused, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. Molly leaned into his hand, letting out a pleased huff. “she likes me.”

but then Molly rolled over, flopping onto her back in the dust and he laughed. “spoiled,” he said, rubbing her belly as she wagged her tail.

“you don’t even know the half of it. she gets the best scraps off the table. mom says it’s why she’s got such shiny fur.”

Stan grinned. “lucky dog.” oh, how he wished he could be in Molly's shoes. to be needed at least by someone, to be taken care of, to be fed. “so, you sellin’ this week?”

you nodded, but your gaze drifted toward the fields. there was still so much work left to do, rows and rows of crops waiting to be picked and sorted. you sighed, already feeling the ache in your arms.

Stan seemed to catch on. “well, if you’re ever lookin’ for extra hands, i know a guy who owes you a couple favors.”

...

you don’t know why you start bringing him food. it’s not like Stanley asked for it and he’s certainly not the kind of man who’d admit if he needed it. but you, the sweetest girl in town, noticed how he looked that first day at the market, hunger written all over him like and that makes it impossible not to.

it started with a couple of peaches tucked into a paper bag which you carefully left on the counter of the Mystery Shack with a quick, “thought you might want something fresh.” but then it grew into a jar of honey. then. . . in a bundle of wildflowers tied with twine.

one day, you showed up with a loaf of bread so fresh it was still warm, wrapped in an old tea towel embroidered with little sunflowers. Stanley was tinkering with something behind the counter, muttering something about journals but when he saw you, he stopped, wiping his hands on his pants.

“you know, you don’t have to keep bringing me this stuff,” he said even as he took the loaf from your hands.

“i know, yeah, but you’re always here, and I figured. . . well, everyone deserves a decent meal now and then.” he looked at you for a long moment, longer than felt normal, trying to figure out if you were pulling some kind of trick.

“thanks,” he said your name. “that means a lot.”

and it becomes a thing, fresh eggs one day, a loaf of bread the next. you don’t stay long when you drop them off, because Stanford always says he's kinda busy here, dealing with some of his "scientific research”, so you quickly greet him, maybe say some comment about the weather, but every damn time he sees you, his face softens, genuine smile appearing on it, his shoulders relax too. maybe you’re not just bringing food but something else he’s been missing.

and sometimes, Stanley feels too lonely, so he pulls out an old chair and offers you coffee, the two of you sitting on the porch while he tells you about his life.

[bruhnze]

Pink Skies - Lucy x Ona

Summary: Nostalgic Luna fic! A slow morning when Lucy Bronze and Ona Battle still both played for Barça. Written cus i miss that era. (Or: Lucy being head over heels in love with her girlfriend.)

Warnings: fluff / smut-ish (suggestive) so MDNI

Wc: 3340

proofread by @pinkygirl28

Wow, Lucy thought, how is she so beautiful?

The sun was already shining through the shutters, filling the room with a soft glow. They were lying in bed in her apartment in Barcelona, but honestly, it felt more like their apartment now.

Ona was here more often than not. Their dogs, Narla and Coco, were sleeping peacefully in the living room. Coco even had his own little bed here.

Details like that made Lucy happy. They were all small ways in which their lives became more and more intertwined

Ona was still fast asleep beside her. It had been a late night after the game. Today they had a free morning before recovery at the club in the afternoon.

She looked over at the alarm clock, there were still a couple hours until it would go off.

Lucy turned to lie on her side, her head propped up on her hand. Ona was facing her, also on her side, her features highlighted pink by the sunlight that peeked through the shutters.

Lucy adored her, loved her. Ona was simply the most beautiful person on the planet, but she loved her besides that too, her kindness, her humor, or her cleverness, she just had everything.

Even now, lying there with dry lips, her hair in a messy bun.. or more like an artistic interpretation of one, and wearing a faded shirt that had seen better days but she refused to throw away because she loved it too much, Ona looked like a dream.

Lucy couldn't understand how she had gotten this lucky, how this was her life now.

Her gaze roamed over Ona’s peaceful face before lingering on her skin, which looked impossibly soft and so kissable.

Her heart swelled as a wave of affection washed over her. She wanted to kiss Ona, to hold her, to somehow convey the overwhelming love that was brimming inside her.

Leaning in, Lucy hovered closer until Ona’s soft breath tickled her face.

She couldn’t resist anymore. She pressed the gentlest kiss to Ona’s cheek, her lips barely grazing her skin.

Ona stirred, letting out a soft groan as she rolled onto her stomach, her face half-buried in her pillow.

Lucy bit her lip, smiling to herself but trying to keep silent.  

With Ona’s face no longer turned toward her, her gaze drifted to the back of Ona’s neck, where a few baby hairs had curled against her skin.

Gently, Lucy reached out, running her fingers lightly down Ona’s spine.

When Ona didn’t stir again, she leaned in and placed a series of soft, featherlight kisses on her neck.

“Luce…” Ona mumbled, her voice rough and muffled by the pillow.

Lucy nestled her face into Ona’s neck, letting her body rest halfway on top of the smaller girl.

She smoothed her hand over the soft skin of Ona’s upper arm and whispered, “Sorry for waking you.”

She’d been awake for a while, first scrolling on her phone, then watching Ona sleep.

Normally, she would’ve gotten out of bed by now, but today she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She wanted to feel her girlfriend close, to soak in this quiet intimacy. Her love for Ona was so intense, so overwhelming, that it almost scared her.

No—it did scare her sometimes.

“How late is it?” Ona murmured, her voice low and sleepy.

Lucy pressed another kiss to Ona’s neck. “Almost eight, baby.”

“Madre mía,” Ona groaned, her words muffled as she buried her face further into the pillow. “Thought we said we’d set the alarm for ten?”

Lucy smiled, nuzzling her face further against Ona’s neck. “We did,” she admitted, placing a soft kiss there. “I know.”

Ona groaned again, her tone somewhere between annoyance and affection. “I’m still tired.”

“Sorry,” Lucy whispered, punctuating the word with a few more kisses against Ona’s skin.

“don’t want sex right now,” Ona mumbled.

Lucy chuckled softly. “That’s not why I woke you up.”

“Then why did you?” Ona sighed, trying to shift but finding herself pinned under Lucy’s weight.

Lucy eased off slightly, giving her some room to move. She smiled as Ona turned towards her. Her face was still sleepy, one eye still closed while the other was half-open.

Leaning in, Lucy began peppering Ona’s face with soft kisses. Ona grumbled softly in protest but didn’t push her away.

“What?” Ona asked, her voice a sleepy mumble.

“I just love you so much,” Lucy whispered. “I’m sorry for waking you. It was an accident.”

“If you love me, let me sleep,” Ona groaned.

“Can I have a kiss first?”

Ona sighed, but leaned in anyway. "Sólo uno," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Lucy nodded eagerly, her eyes fluttering shut as she closed the gap between them. Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, that sent a wave of warmth through Lucy’s chest.

As they pulled apart, she gazed at Ona, her heart racing. I want to give her everything she could ever want, Lucy thought, her eyes soft with adoration.

“Hey,” Lucy began softly, “what’s your favorite breakfast? Like if we go out?”

Ona groaned again, curling back up as if to hide from Lucy’s sudden burst of energy. “Luce…”

“That bakery where Coco peed on the door?” Lucy pressed, tucking a strand of hair behind Ona’s ear.

Ona hummed against the pillow. “Chocolate croissant.”

“Coffee from the apple tart place?”

“Sí,” Ona murmured. “The best coffee.”

“Or a matcha?” Lucy asked, as Ona sometimes joined her in that order.

“Café con leche,” Ona whispered sleepily.

“Or juice from that place Salma showed you?” Lucy pressed, determined to piece together the perfect breakfast plan.

“Luce, I’m sleeping,” Ona groaned tiredly.

“The purple one or the green juice? Or the orange one… you got that once, too.”

“No. Coffee’s better,” Ona mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But if you were-” Lucy started.

“-blueberries,” Ona interrupted, her tone bordering on exasperation. “Please, I want to sleep.”

Lucy chuckled softly. “Okay, you know what? I’ll walk the dogs and let you sleep a bit longer. After that, we can go out for breakfast before heading to the club.” She pressed one last kiss to Ona’s temple before slipping out of bed.

Ona didn’t even respond, she was already back asleep.

..

As Lucy stepped outside with the dogs, she paused, taking in the breathtaking sky. A perfect gradient of pinks and oranges painted the horizon, and she couldn’t resist stopping to snap a picture. The world just felt so much brighter when you were in love, or maybe it was just the beauty of this morning. She sent the picture to her mom with a ‘Good morning’ and then followed it up with a ‘Love you, miss you.’ smiling to herself as she sent it. Life was beautiful.

Lucy’s plan was to surprise Ona with breakfast at home, instead of heading out to one of their usual spots, she decided to walk by all their favorite places and pick up everything Ona liked most.

A chocolate croissant for Ona, a regular one for herself from the little bakery.

From the most recent place they'd visited together, the one Ona had taken her to a couple of days after she’d gone with her friends, she grabbed a blue juice for Ona and a green one for herself. She liked the blue one too but chose the green one just in case Ona wanted to switch.

Lastly, she passed the coffee shop, where she ordered a matcha for herself and a coffee for Ona. The barista greeted her and the dogs with a smile, and they chatted for a moment before Lucy took the to-go cups in a carton holder and made her way back home.

She was grateful that Narla and Coco weren’t leash pullers, because she had her hands full of stuff.

Opening the door was a bit of a struggle, but she managed, and as expected, the house was still quiet. She kicked off her shoes and hung her jacket on the hook.

First, she filled Narla and Coco’s bowls with kibble, then made her way to their bedroom with the breakfast.

She stood there for a moment, watching Ona, who was lying on her side of the bed. Ona had always said she loved that Lucy’s spot was warm and smelled like her. 

Lucy gently placed the breakfast on the bedside table beside Ona and quickly peeled off her jeans before climbing back into bed.

She snuggled close, feeling the warmth of Ona’s body.

As soon as Ona stirred and shifted to face her, Lucy smiled.

"Where were you?" Ona murmured, still half-asleep.

"Walked the dogs?" Lucy chuckled softly. "I told you."

"Did you?" Ona groaned, rubbing her eyes. "I don’t remember."

Lucy couldn’t help but laugh. "Did you get a little more sleep, at least?" she asked, brushing a strand of hair from Ona’s face, smiling as the strand of hair fell back infront of her face again.

"Yes," Ona yawned, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "Was the walk nice?"

Lucy smiled warmly, cupping Ona’s cheek with one hand. "Yes, it was," she replied. "The sky was pretty… I made a picture, do you want to see?"

‘’Mhm,’’

Lucy opened her phone gallery, scrolling to the picture she had taken earlier, and held it out to Ona. "Look," she said softly, her voice warm with excitement.

Ona rubbed her eyes, sitting up slightly against the headboard, her hair falling messily around her face as she blinked at the screen. "Mmm very pretty," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep. "you should send it to your mom."

"Ah I did," Lucy laughed, settling herself beside Ona. "did I tell you she loves pictures of the sky?" she asked with a laugh.

Ona nodded smiling, leaning into Lucy’s shoulder as she handed the phone back. "Mhm, you said," she whispered. "It’s a nice picture, I bet she’ll love it."

‘’Mhm,’’ Lucy agreed.

Lucy turned her head to press a kiss to Ona’s temple, her lips lingering for a moment. "Well," she said, her tone turning playful as she pulled back slightly, "you don’t remember, apparently, but we said we’d get breakfast when you were awake."

Ona frowned in mock confusion, tilting her head as she studied Lucy’s face. "Did we?"

Lucy laughed softly, brushing the strand of hair out of Ona’s face again. "Yeah, but I actually wanted to surprise you instead."

"Surprise me?" Ona���s voice held a hint of curiosity now, her sleepiness beginning to fade.

Lucy nodded, her smile widening. "Yep," she said as she swung her leg off the bed and reached over to grab the paper bag she had set down earlier. She placed it on the bed between them.

"First," Lucy said, opening the bag, and showing Ona, "a chocolate croissant from that bakery you love. The one where Coco peed on the door." She grinned as she handed it to Ona.

"Stop calling it that.’’ Ona rolled her eyes but smiled, her cheeks dimpling as she took the smaller paper bag containing her croissant. ‘’Coco just wanted to claim his spot, he knows what good places are.’’

Lucy laughed, then pulled out another bag. "And a croissant for me."

Ona smiled, as Lucy reached for the next item besides her.

"Next," Lucy announced, holding up two plastic cups, "a blue juice for you, and a green juice for me. Or the other way around if you rather have this one."

Ona’s eyes sparkled as she set her croissant down to take the juice, immediately taking the straw out of its wrapper and putting in. "Mmm, you’re the best," she said before taking a sip. ‘’I was craving this one, the blueberries.’’

Lucy’s grin grew as she held up the last two items. "And finally, coffee for you, and matcha for me. From the one café where the woman is who loves Narla and Coco.. she gave me an apple tart again." She handed Ona the coffee.

Ona took the cup and set it on her, well Lucy’s, bedside table. "I love this suprise," she said happily, ‘’I cant believe you went to three places for this.’’

Lucy shrugged, though her cheeks turned slightly pink. "Just wanted to make you happy."

Ona leaned over, pressing a kiss to Lucy’s cheek. "You do," she said simply.

Lucy chuckled.

After they’d drank half of their juices Ona took the croissant out of its bag. ‘’Ohh its still warm,’’ she gushed. ‘’Oof we really shouldn’t be eating this in bed, we’re going to have crumbs.’’

Lucy nodded, ‘’mhm, but I think the bed was due for a change anyways.’’

Ona hummed agreeingly, hovering over the bag with the croissant as she leaned in to take a bite.

Lucy smiled as she looked at Ona taking a bite of her croissant.

Ona moaned, closing her eyes as she chewed. "Mmm, esto es mejor que el sexo."

Lucy chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Oof, I’d hope I’m better than a pastry."

Ona looked up, confused. "Huh?"

"Better than sex," Lucy laughed. "You just said, ‘Mmm, this is better than sex.’"

Ona rolled her eyes and let herself fall back onto the bed, laughing. "It’s just a saying."

"I know," Lucy teased, smiling. "I was kidding."

"Mhm," Ona said, taking another bite. Then, with a cheeky grin, she added, "But no, it’s not better than that… Some sí. With you, no."

Lucy grimaced, half-joking, half-genuinely uneasy at the mention of Ona’s past experiences.

Ona noticed, laughed, and set her food aside. She leaned in, covering the top half of Lucy’s face with her hand, before kissing her. "We make good sex," Ona said in her heavily accented English, pulling back with a satisfied smile.

Lucy didn’t want to correct her, but Ona had asked her to tell her if she was saying things wrong. So Lucy tried to gently correct her, "Have." She pressed another kiss to Ona’s lips. "It’s ‘have sex,’ not ‘make sex.’"

"¿Qué?" Ona tilted her head.

"It’s ‘have,’ not ‘make,’" Lucy explained, her tone playful. "You said you wanted me to help improve your English, remember?"

"ghave? No," Ona shook her head stubbornly. "Make."

"It’s definitely ‘have,’ trust me," Lucy insisted, her grin growing.

Ona looked skeptical until, after a moment, realization hit. "Ohhh, no, no, I know, I know!"

Lucy chuckled, waiting for her to explain.

"Ugh, I can’t remember... Wait," Ona said, snapping her fingers. "Make… it’s in that one song!"

Lucy looked even more confused. "What song?"

Ona hummed for a moment, searching her memory before softly singing, "‘You’re the one that I desire... ahh!’" She laughed triumphantly. "I know! ‘When we wake up, and then we make love.’"

‘’Ahh,’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’well yes, make love or have sex.’’

"ohh," Ona nodded, a twinkle in her eye. "you were right too, it’s ghave sex.. I thought about the other."

Lucy had never known she had a thing for accents.. she thought she didn’t, but surely it wasn’t normal to get this amount of butterflies from someone talking.

Lucy couldn’t hide her grin. There was something about Ona talking, the way her words rolled imperfectly but perfectly into place. It made her heart flutter.

"It’s both different things, though" Ona said quietly, her cheeks pink, pulling Lucy from her thoughts.

Lucy looked at the cute blush that appeared on Ona’s cheeks, ‘’what do you mean?’’ she asked, even though she could guess what Ona meant.

Ona let her head fall against Lucy’s shoulder. "You know what I mean... they both mean a little bit different things."

‘’Mhm,’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’I know that, but what does it mean for you?’’

"For me?" Ona tilted her head, her brows furrowing.

"Yeah," Lucy said, curious, ‘’what do the two things mean for you?’’

Ona narrowed her eyes at Lucy suspiciously, ‘’you are testing me? or you are curious?’’

Lucy shook her head, ‘’curious, ofcourse babe, I told you, I think your English is good, I’d never make fun of you."

Ona tilted her head and squinted at her.

"Okay, okay," Lucy admitted, holding her hands up, ‘’sometimes I maybe repeat what u say, but that’s only because I find it adorable.’’

"You tease me," Ona pouted.

"I don’t, babe," Lucy said, shaking her head and pulling Ona onto her lap. "Your English is better than my Spanish. I’d be a hypocrite."

"I lived in England for three years," Ona countered, playing with Lucy’s hair, ‘’this is only your second year here.’’

‘’Hmm maybe,’’ Lucy smiled, her hands resting on Ona’s hips, ‘’but can you answer my question now,’’ she pouted, ‘’I’m curious what it means for you.’’

Ona shook her head with a small smile, leaning over to grab her juice from the nightstand.

Lucy looked at her, puzzled. "What, are you shy?"

Ona nodded, sipping her juice and keeping eye contact, her cheeks flushing even more.

"Why?"

Ona thought for a moment before answering softly. "Because only now I know the difference."

"What?" Lucy frowned.

‘’I used to think they were just meaning the same thing, like.. uh… synonyms.. but you made me realize what they sing about in songs..’’ Ona bit her lip, trying to explain. ‘’we,’’ she blushed furiously, as her voice trailed off, ‘’we.. I guess we make love.. most of the times at least.’’

Lucy smiled as it started to make sense.

"It’s not only… lust?" Ona tried to find the words. "Es más que… desire. Not solo del orgasm."

‘’I understand what you mean,’’ Lucy smiled, her hands moving to Ona’s thighs, ‘’its about the connection.. hmm I don’t know if its an actual thing but I would call it - emotional intimacy?’’  

Ona nodded, ‘’sí.’’ She set her juice back on the nightstand.

‘’And do you like that?’’ Lucy chuckled.

Ona giggled, hiding her face in the crook of Lucy’s neck. Ona’s muffled voice came from where her face was hidden. "You already know I do, so why do you ask?"

Lucy smirked, kissing the side of her head. "Because I want to hear you say it."

Ona pulled back slightly, a playful smirk on her lips. "I love it.

A wicked grin pulled at the corners of Lucy’s mouth.

‘’Don’t let it go to your head." Ona said, rolling her eyes with a laugh.

Lucy grinned. "Too late."

Ona shook her head, but she couldn’t stop smiling. Truthfully, cocky Lucy was one of her favorite things.

‘’No but seriously,’’ Lucy said, looking at Ona genuinely, ‘’I feel that too, you brought it to words really well actually.’’

Ona smiled at the compliment, ‘’yeah?’’

Lucy nodded earnestly, ‘’mhm.’’

Ona reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the ink on Lucy’s wrist. The gentle motion sent a tingle through Lucy’s skin, and her breath hitched when Ona’s thumb lingered over the curve of the design. “I love you,” Ona murmured, her voice soft as if she were sharing a secret.

Lucy smiled, her heart swelling. “I love you too.”

Ona smiled, leaning in and brushing her lips against Lucy’s in a kiss so soft it felt like a whisper.

Lucy’s hand instinctively cupped Ona’s cheek, keeping her close.

When she pulled back, Ona’s gaze lingered, “this would be a moment like that.”

“Like what?” Lucy asked breathlessly, her voice catching as Ona’s lips ghosted over her own again, teasing and tantalizing.

‘’That we would make love,’’ Ona said, keeping eye contact.

Lucy’s heart hammered in her chest, a shiver trailing down her spine. This girl was going to be the death of her someday, and honestly, she wouldn’t want it any other way.

"Are you going to keep talking about it," Lucy began, her voice just a little breathless, "or are you going to show me?"

The words sounded bolder in her head, but as they left her lips, they carried a nervous tremor that made Ona smile knowingly.

Ona might be shy sometimes, but in moments like this, she knew she had Lucy wrapped around her finger - and she enjoyed every second of it.

...

[the song that Ona quoted was 'Best part' - H.E.R. ]

the song below is the title

[skyscrapergods]

Oh that ask about the gods missing their olds form had something that made me think. You said that Twilight and Cadence were ascended forcefully, if this did not happen and the natural course of long ascension took place it would have taken thousands of years, is there a chance that Shining Armor's role as Cadence's husband would've turned them into a partnered pair of gods to represent romantic love together? Since the way of ascension is likely done through worship, I'd imagine that Cadence's followers would have put some level of respect and maybe even praise upon her partner: I guess I'm asking would that be enough to ascend him too? (Sorry this got a bit rambling lol)

That's definitely possible! But honestly without Celestia's boost, I don't think either of them would have become gods. To ascende fully from mortal to diety, you have to be a certain level of bombastic. You have to flaunt and want it. You have to have charisma to accept the adoration of others and believe you may indeed be something more.

Cadance might have that, due to the way she believes in the power of love. She might accept a role as the princess of love in order to change the world for the better. And if so, then of course her love would rise with her. Power couple. But that takes a kingdom and then planet's veneration to get there. I'm just not sure cadance and shining armor would want that.

Twilight certainly wouldn't, especially if she knew it would be leaving her friends behind. She wouldn't choose to become something so inhuman (inpony?) and lose who she is in this new role and new form. She would be too humble as well, to announce herself as the princess of friendship, and certainly not as the goddess of such!

Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash have the charisma and confidence, but they don't have a powerful enough domain to become gods. But if Twilight ascended them, turned them into godlings, and announced to everyone they were now princesses of parties and awesomeness, then it would totally happen. But they are unlikely to reach that on their own.

[flusteredladylover]

My darling Quanxi! ♡♥︎

Of all the incredible panels and official illustrations of her, I always find myself coming back to this one. It’s so simple—nothing particularly funny or dramatic about it. It’s just Quanxi chewing some food. Such a mundane act, yet it feels so precious to me. I adore moments like this, where she gets to indulge in ordinary, everyday activities.

Honestly, I love her so much that all I can think about when I see this is somehow convincing her to let me feed her—just one bite from my plate. I’d be completely captivated, utterly in love, as I watch her eat.

I'd forget about eating my own food entirely.

Reblog with your favourite picture/pictures of your f/o!!

I'll start with my bf Shake!!

Bonus if you gush about your f/o in tags ♡

[feroluce]

I've been yapping at a new friend a lot lately about Boothill & Rappa; she described them as "sidekicks in chaos" and! Yes! Finally!Someone else gets it! They're SO cute and so sweet, I adore them. They speak so highly about each other and they have a lot of respect between them! I love them being friends!

With the way Rappa calls him Lord (vs Ninja for everyone else) and how much she openly admires and mimics him, I'd like to think Boothill was the one that showed her the ropes when she was first brought into the Galaxy Rangers. Mentor/mentee and teacher/student are too strong of labels for how I see them, though.

Rappa and Boothill are like a college senior taking the new little freshman under their wing. Or the much older and more experienced coworker trying to look out for the fresh-faced little newbie who's just entering the workforce.

As for how they met and became friends in the first place, I like to imagine it was a case of Boothill's soft heart and being unable to turn a blind eye to things. ☆

Like Boothill wasn't on the mission where the Galaxy Rangers found Rappa, he was off on his own Hunt at the time. But given that the Galaxy Rangers have a leader (La Mancha) and they do seem to have some kind of organized efforts, I wonder if there's any kind of secret hq, or at least certain places where they tend to congregate, like how the Masked Fools have their taverns. Anyway.

Boothill maybe sees Rappa for the first time at one of these hqs (he came back when he heard there'd been a major breakthrough with Dr. Primitive). Or he maybe just happens to run into that Galaxy Ranger from 2.6 that initially found her, who then just. Wasn't really sure what to do with her after the raid. Boothill walks in all these Rangers sitting around like "well now what" because none of them actually expected Rappa to survive the memetic virus. Honestly, her brain should have fried.

Either way, Boothill comes across her by total coincidence. But I think he'd have a lot of sympathy for her because like. Aeragan-Epharshel had been an uncontacted planet before the IPC came around. And since they were there to fuck the place up, they definitely didn't expose the natives to the rest of the cosmos. To say that Boothill "left" the planet is a massive underestimation- he didn't just leave, he escaped. And when he got out, he was completely alone, with very little idea how the rest of the world worked or how to get by.

And right now, Rappa is much the same.

She doesn't know anything beyond the lab she was held captive in all her life. There's no way they would have allowed her to learn that kind of stuff, and I'm sure Kucha wouldn't have told her out of kindness. It would be cruel to taunt her with things she couldn't have.

So someone needs to teach her The Ways of the World! It's just a matter of deciding who.

Boothill: ...What're you morons doing.

The Rangers, in the middle of a very intense rock-paper-scissors tournament:

And Boothill likes these people. He really does! ...Ok, except that one guy. He's kind of a prick. But the rest of them are at least mostly decent! But he wouldn't trust them to keep a pool, let alone a whole human being. If he lets this girl go with any of these dumbasses, there's no way she'll make it. So Boothill smacks them around a bit and announces fine, he'll show the new girl how to be a Galaxy Ranger! If any of them have a problem with this, feel free to make complaints to his revolver ☆

Rappa watches all this go down with stars in her eyes, because Boothill is just like the heroes in her manga! Wow! So cool!

(When it came time to actually leave though, Rappa made some sad eyes at the Ranger from 2.6 that actually found her- for better or worse, she got a little attached. The Ranger told her to go on! Go! Just get out of here!

It's very important to imagine this like a movie where the kid frees the wild animal they bonded with skhzksksjk)

Afterwards, Boothill does actually take Rappa aside and ask if she even wants to be a Ranger. If she doesn't, it's fine. The Galaxy Rangers do a lot of charity work, and everyone knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. They'll find somebody that can help her figure things out and get settled. She can have an actual life now.

Rappa gives a passionate speech (that Boothill catches about 50% of sdlkfjasdl) about how she wants nothing more. She'd wanted it before she even knew the name for it. This was what she'd dreamed of, laying across the bed in Kucha's room, reading through his manga collection for the nth time.

Kucha isn't with her anymore. He'd died just to get her out of there. But she can take the opportunity he gave her and make the most of it. She can still keep her dream alive.

So yes, Rappa wants to be a Ninja Hero. Please teach her!

(Boothill: Bein' a Galaxy Ranger ain't easy shirt. Ya gotta be able to hold yer own in a fight. Can ya even do that?

And then Rappa fucking suplexed him and Boothill was like ok so the first parta bein' a Galaxy Ranger is- JSJJSJDKSK)

They're mentioned together so much outside of the main game, too. So I'd like to think even after Boothill passed on to Rappa all the street smarts he could, they still remained pretty friendly, and make the time and effort to meet up whenever they pass nearby. They just ended up getting along so well!

Like no, they don't see each other very often. They're each on their own separate Hunt. Galaxy Rangers still largely work alone. But they're the kind of buddies that can still happily greet each other the same even after months of not speaking. ♡

(Clutching my heart imagining Boothill telling Rappa she is now a full-fledged Ninja Hero, and she is now strong enough to make her solo journey! But he does give her his phone number. And he tells her that if she's in trouble- like real, real bad trouble- call him. Call him and he'll come runnin', to any corner of the galaxy, ok?)

[amazingmsme]

Like Salt in the Wound

AN: first fic of 2025, woohoo! Starting off strong with some angst/comfort & I honestly wouldn’t want it any other way! Odysseus really needs a hug, but I guess he’ll just have to get wrecked instead, lmao. Telemachus & Athena’s friendship means everything to me! I had an absolute blast with this one, & I hope you do too!

Odysseus had only been home just shy of a year, but even a few months spent with his beloved family repaired more of his soul than he ever imagined. There were nights where he slept peacefully; the nightmares fading away as his wife cradled him in her arms. He was less jumpy, more at ease. He no longer drew his sword when he heard a loud clatter or bang, instead merely gripping the hilt until he was sure there was no threat.

The past still haunted him, but he had learned to cope as best as he could.

He had changed, yes, but he was still Odysseus, and the man Penelope fell in love with all those years ago continued to shine through in little ways.

It was in the way he held her with such tenderness, the way he cupped her cheek and kissed her. How he laughed at his own terrible jokes. The way he blushed and shied away when she said something suggestive. How he hung on their son's every word, showering him with love and affection to make up for lost time.

He might've done terrible things to return to them, but he was not nearly the monster he saw himself as. There was still the smallest unspoken softness about him, but it slowly grew larger every day.

He shoved his insecurities down, only allowing Penelope to see him so weak. But there was one secret he kept from even her.

The first time he saw Telemachus, dawned with spear and helmet, wearing Athena's cloak, he felt a wave of panic wash over him. He couldn't let his mentor do to his son what she had done to him. He refused.

But then, Athena apologized. She actually admitted to leading him astray, and offered the chance to rebuild a better, more peaceful word. That this time, things would be different. She promised to train Telemachus with empathy, to not shut him out like she had done to Odysseus all those years before.

The idea terrified him. He saw so much of himself in Telemachus, and knew first hand how easy it would be to strip away his vibrancy and innocence. He had been hesitant to allow her to continue training him, but he caved the moment his son asked.

It felt... strange, watching the two of them interact. Watching his Telemachus spar with Athena stirred old memories that brought a bittersweet smile to his face. Oh, what could have been.

Telemachus had told him that Athena once called him her friend, on the day they first met. She didn't say his name, but he now knows she was referring to his father. Odysseus just wished she would've admitted that back then.

They both acted differently in each other's company; unlike they ever were with him.

Telemachus adored Athena. He looked forward to her visits, lighting up the moment she entered a room before running off for his next lesson. He was never so eager when Odysseus trained with him, questioning his methods and suggesting what Athena would do. He tried not to let it get under his skin, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't sting a little.

Athena might as well be a completely different person with Telemachus. She was patient and understanding, gently correcting him when he made a mistake. Odysseus seemed to remember her harsh tone and judging words when he was to screw up. It felt hypocritical, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

He felt horrible for harboring such thoughts, and yet, he couldn't help it. He was jealous. Athena already knew Telemachus before he ever had the chance to truly meet him. She taught the boy how to fight; something he had been looking forward to doing himself. He still had much to learn, but he would rather listen to a Goddess than his own father.

Odysseus could never fault him for doing so. After all, he had been the same way at that age.

He remembered how great it felt to have her favor. To earn her praise after a battle well fought. She used compliments sparingly and went heavy handed on the criticism, so you would know when she really meant it. She would try to hold in her laughter when he would tell jokes, but he was able to catch her off guard on more than one occasion.

Even if the friendship had been one sided at the time, it had felt real to him.

So you can imagine how much it hurt to see Athena and Telemachus get along so well.

She didn't push him as hard as she did Odysseus, making sure to respect the young prince's boundaries. With the King of Ithaca, she sparred with him as her equal, as if he had the strength and speed of a God, and ridiculed him when she bested him in combat, pointing out everything he did wrong. But with Telemachus, she held herself back, only increasing the difficulty once she knew he could handle it. Her criticism was constructive and soft, and it made Odysseus roll his eyes. That wasn't the Athena he knew.

She didn't brush him off or keep him at arms length either; she welcomed the friendship with open arms. She called Telemachus her friend, to his face. And without a drop of condescension! She gave him plenty of breaks to go goof off, sometimes even joining in on the fun. Odysseus had only been allowed three breaks at most. 

It was fine. He was happy for them. Well, mostly for Telemachus. As long as he was happy, that's all that matters.

They were deep in the woods, close to where Odysseus killed the boar all those years ago. Oh how Telemachus loved that story. He loved all his stories, really. Odysseus feared that he would never quite live up to the legend Telemachus saw him as.

He was currently training him on his sword work,  blocking every strike Telemachus made. He swung down towards his father's shoulder with the blunt practice sword, only for Odysseus to parry the blade and spin around behind him. 

Telemachus whirled around just in time to block the sword with his shield, tucking and rolling across the ground. He popped back up, slashing across the back of his father's legs. Odysseus played along and fell to the ground, crawling as if he were severely wounded.

"Great job, you've disarmed your opponent and hold the advantage. But I could get up if I try, so I'm still a capable threat. What will you do?" Odysseus talked him through it, waiting for his son's next move.

"I..." Telemachus started, thinking of his options before committing, "I go straight for the heart," he said, raising his sword high above his head before stabbing down. He softened the blow just before poking Odysseus in the chest.

The King of Ithaca arched his back, screaming and writhing in mock pain. Telemachus couldn't help but chuckle and roll his eyes at the dramatics, but his amusement was obvious.

A slow clap sounded from behind, and Telemachus turned to see Athena watching from the trees. Her scar was healing well and she sported a proud smirk, "Well done, little wolf."

Telemachus smiled wide, running over to greet her. "Athena!" He threw his arms around her in a tight hug, one that she reciprocated.

"I see you're keeping him busy," she addressed Odysseus with a fond smile of her own.

"Are you kidding? He practically begged me until I agreed to spar with him," he teased. He stood up, brushing himself off, taking a step closer.

"Father!" Telemachus whined, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Athena chuckled and shook her head.

"Well then, how about I take him off your hands for a bit?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Be my guest," he invited, taking a seat on a fallen log.

"Alright Telemachus, let's give him a show."

"Alright!" he cheered, pumping a fist in the air. He snatched his discarded sword from the ground, taking a fighting stance.

Odysseus watched the training session with a gentle smile that felt more forced than he cared to admit. It was as though he were looking into his own past through rose tinted lenses.

They moved around each other with such practiced ease, as if it were a well rehearsed dance. Telemachus grinned from ear to ear, dimples on full display. He never smiled like that when it was Odysseus teaching him. Instead, he wore a tense, focused expression, broken only by the occasional smile before determination settled back once more. They bantered back and forth, goading and teasing each other as weapons clashed.

"Ha, is that the best you got?" Telemachus taunted as he parried another strike. Athena smirked, arching a brow before swiping her spear behind his legs and knocking him off his feet.

"Nope."

He sprung back up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Bring it on then!"

Athena charged at him, only for Telemachus to sidestep her at the last second. He spun around, kicking the back of her knees to buckle her legs. She yelped and stumbled forward, leaning against a tree for support.

She stood up, studying the tree thoughtfully. Odysseus watched on skeptically, unsure where she was going with this.

"Is this a dogwood tree?" she asked, running a hand up the trunk.

Odysseus scooted closer to the edge of the log. No, she wouldn't!

"Uh, I don't know. Why?"

"I'm pretty sure it is," she mused, barely holding back a smirk.

"Really? How can you tell?" Telemachus asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the tree.

Athena looked down at him, allowing her smile to make its presence known. "By its bark."

She fucking did!

It took Telemachus a moment to get the joke, but once he did, he threw his head back in laughter. "Oho man, that's a good one!"

"Hey, that was my joke!" Odysseus spoke up, because what the hell gives? He told that joke to Telemachus a month ago and all he got in return was a fake chuckle! And further more, he could barely remember Athena ever laughing at his jokes, but suddenly, they were funny enough to steal?

Telemachus looked at his dad and shrugged. "Sorry, I guess she's just funnier than you!" he teased.

Okay, ouch. Odysseus clenched his jaw, ducking his head to hide the twitch of a frown tugging at his lips.

"I suppose she is," he agreed, trying to play along. He looked back up, an empty smile back in place as they resumed sparring.

"Flattery won't get you very far," Athena rolled her eyes, but joined in on the playful taunting. "That goes for both of you," she cast a quick glance towards Odysseus, faltering when she could've sworn she saw a look of sadness on her old friend's face. But it was gone just as fast as it appeared. She decided to let it go for now, but made a note in the back of her mind to check in on him later.

"I don't know, it's gotten me pretty far in the past," Telemachus bragged, showing off with some sword twirling that Odysseus had taught him.

"Okay, take it down a notch," she teased, but her words only embolden him. He tossed the sword in the air, catching it with his other hand.

"Make me!" he taunted. Athena grabbed her spear and shoved the blunt end against his chest, effectively knocking him off balance. He fell on his back, playfully glaring up at her from the dirt. "That was mean."

"You were being cocky."

"Yeah, and?" he asked, arching a brow. Athena shot Odysseus a look when he barked out a laugh, but a smile played at the edge of her mouth.

"The last thing he needs is more encouragement."

Odysseus merely shrugged, sporting a smug grin that put her mind at ease.

Then again, he'd always been a great actor.

Odysseus couldn't help but to feel like a third wheel. They clearly enjoyed each other's company more than his own, so why not just... slip away?

He scooted off to the side, sitting on the edge of the log. Neither one seemed to notice, so he casually stood to his feet, giving his back a stretch. He silently slipped into the shadows of the trees as the continued training.

He didn't go too far, but far enough to feel alone. He leaned against a tree, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He was surprised when his palm came back wet. When had he started crying? He quickly wiped away his tears, sniffling softly. By the Gods, he needed to get ahold of himself.

He closed his eyes, taking a few deep, yet shaky breaths. He could still hear the faint echoes of their taunting jeers in the distance, and sighed. He supposed he'd better head back before they noticed he was gone. He took his time on the way back, staring at the ground and dragging his feet.

Meanwhile, Telemachus and Athena continued to spar, although she had noticed the moment he left. She had known something was off, but she didn't know it was that bad. She tried to keep Telemachus busy so he wouldn't notice his father's absence.

She was lost in thought when a foot suddenly connected with her face and she was sent tumbling to the ground.

"Whoa! Dad, did you see that?" Telemachus cheered and jumped in the air, turning around for his father's approval. "Dad?" He looked around, but saw no trace of him. Panic began to creep inside his chest. He ran into the woods, shouting, "Dad? Where are you?"

"Telemachus, wait!" Athena called after him, but the kid was fast and he was in a mission. She ran after him, calling out for Odysseus as well.

As soon as he heard them call out, he ran towards them, yelling, "Over here!"

He came into view, and Telemachus ran into him with a bone crushing hug.

"Where were you?" 

Odysseus wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, wrapping his arms around his son. "Can't a man take a leak in private?" he joked. Telemachus chuckled, shoving at his chest.

"Just tell us next time! I roundhouse kicked Athena in the face and you didn't even see it!"

"Really? That's amazing! I'm so sorry I missed it," he apologized, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You'll just have to catch her by surprise and do it again, eh?"

"I doubt that'll happen," Athena piped up, crossing her arms.

"I wouldn't underestimate him," Odysseus praised, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they walked back to the clearing.

"Yeah Athena, don't underestimate me!" Telemachus taunted, sticking his tongue out at her from behind his father's back. She scoffed, eyes widening in shock.

"That's it, you're in time out when we get back!" she scolded.

"WHAT? You can't do that!" he yelled, a blush quickly spreading across his face as his father's laughter filled the air.

"Shehehe put you in time out!" he giggled, patting his son's back comfortingly.

"Don't laugh," he whined, but the smile on his face told him he didn't really mind. After all, he had barely heard him laugh since he returned.

"On the contrary, laugh it up Odysseus," Athena said, but something about her tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "When we get back, it's your turn."

"I don't know," he trailed off, hesitant to accept.

"You gotta! I never get to see you fight!" Telemachus begged, and he caved.

"Well if you insist. But go easy on me, I'm not as young and spry as I used to be," he said, and now it was Athena's turn to laugh. She threw her head back as she cackled, loud and hearty. She wiped a tear from her eye, glancing over to see matching quizzical expressions.

"Wait, you're serious? After what you did to Poseidon? Absolutely not," she deadpanned.

"You fought Poseidon?" Telemachus practically screamed in his ear, making him flinch away.

"You mean you haven't told him? If you ask me, that should've been the first story you shared," Athena mused.

"Come on, you gotta tell me what happened!" he hopped in place and shook his father by the shoulders until he relented with a chuckle.

"Well, it's kinda a long story. One you'll hear at dinner so your mother can enjoy it too," he deflected.

"Boooo!" Telemachus whined, giving him a thumbs down. "You can tell it twice!"

"He just wouldn't let me go home! So I stabbed him until he called off his storm," he huffed out, telling an abridged version to satisfy his son.

"With his own trident," she added. Telemachus stared at his father in awe.

"Whoa," he said breathlessly. Odysseus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"What can I say? I had limited options," he shrugged, ducking his head down.

"Why so bashful all of a sudden?" Athena asked, cocking her head as she looked down at him. Odysseus gawked, face turning red.

"What? I am not!"

"If you say so," she conceded. "Now, what's do you say you and I have a go, just like old times?" she asked, shooting Telemachus a wink out of the other's sight. He arched a brow quizzically, unsure of what plan she had brewing up. But whatever it was, he wanted in on it.

"You're on."

Athena lulled him into a false sense of security, sparring bantering back and forth before she struck. She dodged his attack, managing to disarm him as she spun around, locking one arm beneath his and held the back of his neck as she held his own sword to his throat with the other.

"Alright, you win," he held his hands up in, surrender, furrowing his brows when she didn't move. "Um... did I... do something wrong?" he questioned, not daring to move an inch.

"Not at all. I just noticed you seemed a little down today."

"Athena," he warned, tensing with a gasp as she squeezed the back of his neck. Telemachus watched on curiously.

"Do you remember my lessons on morale?" she asked, ignoring the threat.

Odysseus was squirming now, tugging at her arms, but she held firm.

"Come on 'Thena, not here," he whined, voice dropped to nearly a whisper. The nickname melted her heart, and made her feel only a little guilty for what she was about to do.

"You mean not in front of the kid?" she taunted, waiting until he opened his mouth to speak before scribbling at the nape of his neck.

Odysseus yelped and flailed around in her hold, scrunching his neck for protection.

"Hey stop! What are you doing to him?" Telemachus protested as he saw his father struggle in Athena's hold. From where he sat, it looked as though she was about to snap his neck. She flashed him a sly, knowing smile.

"Yeah Odysseus, what am I doing?" she asked in such a playful tone, even Telemachus hadn't heard.

"Huh?" he cocked his head, confusion knitting his brows together.

Odysseus clamped his mouth shut, but a wobbly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She tossed the practice weapon aside, scratching just behind his ears with both hands. He snorted and tossed his head around, grimacing as he tried to contain the giggles building up inside his chest.

"Come on, you're usually so talkative," Athena prompted, reaching around to flutter under his chin. He threw himself back to try and get away, but only succeeded in leaning against Athena's chest for support, feet frantically pushing against the ground as he fought to escape.

Telemachus watched on with a growing smile as he realized what was happening.

"Wait, father, are you ticklish?" he asked, not bothering to hide his excitement.

"No!" Odysseus choked out, yelping when Athena reached down to tweak his hip.

"Ignore him, he loves to lie. But you didn't think you got your sensitivity from your mother, did you?" she asked, somehow finding a way to tease both of them at once. Telemachus looked away, cheeks dusted a light pink.

"Well, yeah, kinda," he admitted, unable to take his eyes off the pair. Athena rolled her eyes fondly, easily evading the frantic hands slapping at her wrists.

"You share more similarities with your father than you might think," she said, shooting him another wink. Odysseus shoved at her arms as they wrapped around his waist, shrieking when she picked him up off the ground.

"No! Put me dohohown! Stohohop!" he broke down into deep chuckles that were quickly melting into hysterical giggles. Telemachus had only ever heard his father laugh like that when he told terrible jokes, but he had always kind of assumed he was playing it up for his behalf. He didn't know he actually giggled like that! It was a funny, infectious laugh that seemed adorably out of place.

"Careful what you ask for," Athena smirked before dropping him to the ground, quickly pinning his arms above his head. He desperately pulled at his arms, surprisingly strong despite being mortal. "You sure are struggling a lot. I think I might need some help," Athena raised her voice, making the hint as unsubtle as possible. Telemachus was by their side in a heartbeat, sporting a mischievous smirk.

Odysseus could only grin wider as he shook his head. "Son, wait! She's ticklish too, wouldn't you rather go after a God?" he tried to bargain by deflecting the attention onto Athena, who scoffed in disbelief.

"Excuse me?" She drilled her thumbs in the center of his exposed pits for even suggesting such a thing. Telemachus ignored his father's screams for mercy, tapping his chin as he considered the offer.

"Sounds tempting, but you're the one pinned down," he reasoned with a shrug, planting himself on his kicking legs. Athena held up a hand for an approving fist bump.

"Wise choice."

He grinned as he knocked their knuckles together, adding a few extra slaps and bumps. Athena's hand just hovered there awkwardly, not copying any of the steps he taught her. He shrugged, "Eh, still needs some work."

Telemachus wasted no more time and latched onto his knees, squeezing around the bone. Odysseus snorted and tried to kick his trapped legs, barely able to move them an inch. He couldn't help but laugh along at his reactions, noting, "Wow, mom was right! You do have a funny laugh!"

His words sparked a blush to spread across his cheeks as he cried out in protest, "Shehehe sahaid whahahat?" Logically, Odysseus knew Penelope talked about him while he was away, or at least, he hoped she would. But she really talked about him, not just the legends he left behind. She humanized him...

Maybe a little too much, but still.

"No no, she said it in a good way!" Telemachus assured, spidering over his knees with blunt nails. Odysseus wheezed, drumming his legs against the ground to cope with the ticklish jolts shooting through his nerves.

"I agree Odysseus, your laughter is quite endearing. It's such a shame we don't hear it more often," Athena chimed in. He whined through his giggles, unable to pull his arms down from where she had them pinned. She traced maddening circles against his exposed hollows, making him squeal and arch his back. But no matter how hard he tried, he remained trapped between his son and his friend.

Granted, he might not be trying all that hard. What? He hadn't laughed like this in years, so sue him. And Telemachus seemed to be having fun, so why stop him?

He shook his head in denial, blushing profusely at her words. "Nohoho ihihit's nohoHOHOHOT!"  Loud cackles abruptly gave way to a hysterical shriek as Athena began scratching the spot just behind his ears with long, sharp nails. A stream of giggles and snorts spilled past his lips, nose scrunching adorably.

"I don't know, you sound pretty cute right about now," she drawled, leaning over him to "inspect" his face. Odysseus giggled and tried to look away, failing to protect his now exposed ear with his shoulder.

"'Thehehenaha!" he whined, sounding all too giddy to actually mean anything by it.

"Yep, you look cute too-"

"Ohoho just shut up!"

Athena mock gasped, and Telemachus covered his mouth in shock.

"Uh oh," he teased in a sing song tone, poking all around his stomach. He twitched with each touch, pulling on his arms desperately each time he felt that nagging finger wiggle into the slight pudge of his belly.

"Oh you're gonna regret that," Athena growled playfully. She turned his head to the side, keeping him pinned with one hand. She took a loud, exaggerated breath just so he would know what was coming.

His eyes widened in giddy fear and his thrashing grew stronger once he connected the dots. Empty protests fell past his lips, "No, no wahahait! I'm sohorry, I'm sorryyyy! Plehease dooooon't!" He was already giggling, and his smile only grew wider.

Telemachus couldn't help but laugh along and tease, "She hasn't even touched you yet!"

"Bullshit! You both HAHAHAHAVE! Ohohokahay, oKAHAY! I GEHEHET IHIHIT!" he squealed as Athena leaned in to blow a loud, obnoxious raspberry on the side of his neck. She grabbed his hair and moved his head so she could get the other side.

Not wanting to be left out, Telemachus clawed at his father's stomach, encouraged by his hysterical laughter. Odysseus jolted in place, unable to curl in on himself for protection. The only thing he could do was kick frantically and laugh his heart out.

Which, unfortunately for him, caught his son's attention.

"Great idea, dad! Can't forget about the feet!" he taunted, wrestling his legs down to untie his sandals.

"Nohoho, plehehease! Ihi don't deserve thihihis!" he pleaded, hiding his face behind a pinned arm. Athena snorted in amusement and pulled away to stare down at her friend.

"Actually, if anyone deserves a good laugh, it would be you," she said, her tone softer, yet still teasing.

"Hehehey!" he whined at the remark, his blush now reaching the tips of his ears.

"Yeah, laughing at your own jokes doesn't really count," Telemachus added, raking blunt nails down his arches.

"HEHEHEY!" Odysseus shrieked indignantly at the comment. He tried to keep his feet planted on the ground, but all it took was a quick scribble against the backs of his knees to get him kicking again. "Ihihit counts!" he insisted through deep, rumbly chuckles.

Both Athena and Telemachus rolled their eyes. Telemachus decided to take it a step further and shrugged, unable to hide his smirk.

"Does it though?" he asked skeptically. Before Odysseus could answer, he scratched just beneath his toes. Odysseus cackled wildly, thrashing around as best he could, bucking hard enough to throw Telemachus off.

Athena took that as her cue to back off as well, releasing his arms from where they were pinned. He either didn't have the strength to pull them down, or he just didn't care at this point.

Odysseus let out a giggly groan, throwing his head back against the ground. "You two ahare thehehe worst!" he spoke through residual giggles, but didn't mean a word of what he said.

"Yeah, but I learned from the best!" Telemachus quipped, reaching out to pinch his side one last time. Odysseus jerked away, finally yanking his arms down as he barked out a laugh.

Odysseus scoffed in amusement, a wide smile still plastered on his face. He doubted it would be going anywhere for a long time.

He shook his head fondly, gently shoving at his son's shoulder. "You're a real piece of work. Both of you," he added, shooting Athena a playful glare.

Athena decided not to say anything... to him. She just smirked and addressed Telemachus, as if Odysseus wasn't even there. "Notice how he said just about everything except stop," she noted smugly, and Telemachus muffled his giggles behind his hands.

Odysseus gasped, his fading blush quickly returning. "Well- I- you two looked like you were having fun," he justified with a huff, crossing his arms as he looked away.

"Like you weren't!" Telemachus goaded, throwing his arms around him in a bear hug, rocking side to side.

He couldn't help but give in to the smile tugging at his lips. "It was coerced." Telemachus laughed and shoved him away.

"Oh whatever!"

"Regardless," Athena piped up, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's... refreshing, hearing you laugh again." Odysseus placed a hand atop her own, leaning into the touch.

"Yeah well, you better not make it a habit. There's easier ways to make me laugh, you know," he sassed.

"Ah, but this is the most entertaining," she shot back.

He turned to Telemachus, pointing with his thumb at Athena over his shoulder. "See what I mean? Piece of work."

"Careful, or I'll go for round two," she warned.

"Maybe tomorrow. After all, I believe I'm overdue for some revenge."

"Is that so?" she cocked her head, and Odysseus nodded smugly.

"Yup."

"Well then, you'll have to earn it," she teased, standing up and offering him a hand.

"And you better watch your back, because the tickle monster strikes when you least expect it," he threatened, pointing at Telemachus.

He giggled nervously and took a step back, a pale blush dusting his cheeks. "I'll uh, keep my guard up."

The response made Odysseus throw his head back with a hearty chuckle. He threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer and ruffling his hair.

"Just relax. You won't even see it coming."

"That's not as comforting as you think it is," he deadpanned.

"It wasn't meant to be," Odysseus quipped, and Athena had to stifle a snicker at the comment. "But I believe it's about time we head back for dinner."

Telemachus whined, even though he knew his father was right.

"We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow," she promised.

"Or you could join us," Odysseus invited after a moment's hesitation. The offer took her off guard, but she softened nonetheless.

"Really? I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"Come on, 'Thena! It'll be fun!" Telemachus encouraged, tugging on her arm.

"Yeah, and you'll get to hear the story about how I stabbed your uncle until he cried."

"In that case, how could I resist?"

The three walked back to the palace, chatting all the way. It may very well be true that Athena and Telemachus were closer than they had ever been, but that doesn't mean the friendship wasn't still there. And Telemachus thought the world of him, that much was made clear.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't know why he had been so worried in the first place. He was home, he was loved, and that's all that matters.

[paddedlittleparadise]

"Baby's First Christmas" – Ream Teaser

Ever wonder what happens to good little cuckqueans during their first Christmas? Let mommy domme Corinne explain…

–––

"Welcome, welcome! Come on in, folks! It's cold as heck out there, isn't it? Sure, shoes off if you want…"

It's my first Christmas Eve as official lady of the house, and god am I loving it! Henry agreed to let me hold a party for our close friends tonight, and as our glittering tree and wealth of festive decorations make plain, that was all the license I needed to go all out. Honestly, why not? I'm not just Corinne anymore. I'm Mrs. Henry now: housewife, sexily attired hostess, interior decorator, party planner…

Oh yes. And also the capable second mother to Amy. Amy, Henry's former wife… who just earlier this year officially became our ward.

But that's all beside the point right now. Here are our good friends Dawn and Eli, rosy-cheeked and laughing, shrugging out of their coats and scarves and boots in the entryway while I bubble and effuse about how wonderful it is to see them. And I mean it, too! Not only are they going to bring a much-needed dose of socialization to our little household, but they're also going to be amazing interacting with Amy. Because, well…

"Exactly!" I bubble, leading them out into the gloriously festive living room. "It's her first Christmas Eve party since all the changes, you know. Here, where did she crawl off to? Amy! Amy, come out and say hi to our guests!"

Oh, there she comes: dragged reluctantly out of the hallway by my handsome Henry, her sweet Mary Jane shoes scraping and sliding unwillingly along the linoleum. She's done up exactly as I envisioned, too. I mean, just look at that adorable holiday outfit I put together for her! That red-and-green plaid dress! those matching hair ribbons for her pigtails! those frilly socks! those fluffy petticoats! that adorable diaper bum and frilly diaper cover peeking out with every step!

None of it is the sort of thing a twenty-something-year-old woman would normally wear, of course. But by now, every person here knows that Amy is no ordinary young woman.

"Aww! OMG, Corinne – she looks so freaking adorable! You gotta tell me where you got that outfit! And those socks?!" Dawn is squealing like a little girl herself – or rather, like the amused and extroverted girl friend I've always known her to be. Now she's stepping forward, hugging our blushing Little, who waddle-stumbles forward uncertainly into her old acquaintance's embrace. "Hey, there, sweetie! Don't you look festive? Are you excited that Santa will be coming tonight?!"

"Oh, she is," I interject. Amy's pacifier is dangling from the ruched front of her dress, and I stuff it into her mouth to stifle any protests. "It's been soo freaking cute, how excited she is for the holidays! See, earlier this week she wanted to get Christmas presents for me and Henry. But like, she's not exactly in any position to be buying anyone much of anything! So, we worked out a deal: Henry helped her make something for me and wrap it, and I did the same! So now she's got two darling little presents for us over there under the tree…"

I pause, feeling a flutter of delight as I glance down at the diminutive Amy, gazing up at us both with pacified mouth and cheeks pink with embarrassment. "Here, Amy. Why don't you go show Dawn all the presents? Go on, show her…"

Nor is Dawn's enthusiasm lacking. "Ooh – and we can tuck a few more under there, too! See, sweetie? We brought a few little things for you and your parents, too!"

And off they go. God, it's so sweet and laughable seeing my Amy waddling off to the tree. She was complaining like crazy when I was dressing her earlier this afternoon, of course. All fussy with her whines of "noo, I don' wanna diaper! I wanna wear pull-ups!" – as if she was remotely qualified to even try training pants anymore.

Fortunately, even Henry knows better than to listen to her and her silly whimpers. He has my back – which is why he didn't so much as blink when I wrapped her up in those double-thick and double-boosted Megamaxes. "After all, babe," I'd smiled serenely at Henry over her struggling whimpers, "I won't have time to change her during the party. Better safe than sorry!"

Anyway, it's frickin' cute, that ponderous waddle of hers. But busy as I am with the hundred and one things waiting for me in the kitchen, the most I can do right now is call over my shoulder to the trio of adults around the tree. "Hey – when you can, can one of you just check to see if she needs a change?"

It'd take Niagara Falls to soak that diaper she's got on. I know it well. But what's Christmas without a bit of fun? And god, there's little more fun than watching my husband's silly, juvenile little ex-wife blushing and squirming while everyone around her treats her exactly like the baby she deserves to be.

So yeah – it's no surprise when I hear a faint "Oh, yeah – wet. But she'll be good for a lot longer yet!"

In my imagination, the blush in her cheeks is probably just as beet red as the shine on these beautiful cranberries.

[…]

Want to read more? We've got the rest, plus many, many other stories all up on the PaddedLittleParadise Ream for your steamy pleasure!

[yiangchen]

as much as i love bellarke, i think a kiss (on the lips) would have been too much in the s2 finale. clarke had already been forced to mercy kill finn and lexa had just betrayed her. and then bellarke committed genocide. all in the same season. girl was going THROUGH it. i also think the cheek kiss is fitting. and that much more heartbreaking somehow. it’s like. i am too broken to offer anything to you. all i can offer is this short-lived moment of intimacy, and then i have to go. you deserve so much more than me. you know that’s what she was thinking despite his pleas for her to stay.

now, i could see an au where he convinces her to stay, but only if they don’t stay in arkadia but go somewhere new. there are so many post s2 au fics where t100 and bellarke settle by the sea and i absolutely ADORE that concept. in a world where they were going to be cancelled after two seasons and knew about it, i could see this happening and there’s a montage implying everyone lives happily ever after and bellarke gets together eventually.

season 3 is a tricky one. because that season is A Lot…as we all know lmao. they were definitely being set up in the first few episodes. however, gina’s and lexa’s deaths very quickly make things kinda complicated. i love the idea of bellarke happening during hakeldama (all of the emotions were coming out and that kneeled down hand hold was insanely romantic), but only in a universe where bellamy and gina either weren’t together or she didn’t die. i honestly think gina wasn’t going to exist originally and that s2 set up bellarke to happen in s3, but then lexa’s popularity caught the writers off guard, and they decided to go the c/lexa route briefly. so then gina was added in. and things very quickly became a kind of love square (bellamy’s jealousy/hurt over clarke working with lexa and raven telling bellamy “too bad you were never that devoted to gina”). it’s honestly wild looking back at how blatant that was. before the bellamy, clarke and echo triangle, there was the bellamy, clarke, lexa and gina square (and before that there was the bellamy, clarke, finn and raven square…but that’s a discussion for another day!)

anyway, moving on to s4. i do agree that they probably considered clarke making it to space or bellamy staying on earth, but only in a universe where they were going to be cancelled. bellarke never spent a significant time in the same place off screen. i think that was intentional. we were never meant to miss any of bellarke’s story. and if they had gotten together over a time jump, we would have missed so much. i do think it works in the case of a cancellation though. i can see it so clearly. when clarke comes back and sees that he didn’t leave, she’s furious, asking him why, and he’d probably say something sappy yet sarcastic about how it’s kinda hard to listen to his head when his heart is telling him he’s in love with the girl he’s supposed to leave behind. idk who kisses who, but let me tell you, this would have been the KISS we had been waiting for. and then! cue montage of bellamy and clarke surviving together and meeting madi and becoming a family and then five years later reuniting with everyone in space and in the bunker.

on a side note, it absolutely kills me that we will never know what bellamy was going to say in 4x06. you are so right though. the writers know and they never went anywhere with that. just like the radio calls. absolutely tragic…

speaking of the radio calls, i would just love to know what was running through their brains with that one. oh to have been in the writers room during that discussion…

it's still so fascinating to me that bellarke was supposed to happen in 6x10/6x11, bob was informed of this, but then he received the script and it didn't happen. that's just so sketch. truly what was going on behind the scenes. it's just so WEIRD the more you think about it. also makes me wonder if that was the first time that had happened. i mean, we already know that there were changes to the 1x08 script to get rid of the line where bellamy asks clarke to run away with him, so i don't think it's that far outside the realm of possibility to think that there were other romantic lines/scenes that were cut throughout the series. i honestly think every season they probably toyed with the idea of them happening, wrote a first kiss or a confession or maybe an almost kiss, decided against it and thought hey actually let's push this to next season, drag it out a little longer.

[femmejournal]

birds of a feather.

Kn8 + love. Self explanatory

Gender neutral!reader for the boys, fem!reader for Mina's and Rin's, I do whatever I want

Kafka Hibino is really sweet when he's in love. Not particularly flirty in any sense, but he's cute and kinda sappy. Protective. Not jealous, but insecure. He's always afraid you'll ditch him for somebody else, because he's always felt inadequate in every sense of the word and wonders if you find him disappointing (nope). Probably won't ever tell you that he loves you, you'll find out from Kikoru someone else who blurts it out without realizing that you didn't think Kafka's actions were romantically inclined.

Mina Ashiro is quiet when she's in love. Almost nobody would know except Kafka and Hoshina, and maybe Okonogi. Of course there are rumors that the commander Ashiro is into women (a lot of men out there are. Not thrilled about it tbh) but nobody knows whether it's true or not except, again, Kafka and Hoshina, and maybe Okonogi. Maybe. Anyway, she doesn't really tell anyone; if they know, it's because they figured it out. With you, she's shy and more girlish than her image suggests. Not that she's giggling and twirling her hair, but there's a pink tint on her cheeks when you're around. When you talk to her, she gets tongue tied. Would NEVER ask you out (shes nervous and doesnt know if you like women) so Kafka has to push for her to try.

Reno Ichikawa is very shy when in love. He's just a kid, sweet and kinda dumb. The first time he sees you he does a double take 😂 yeah he's not subtle, everyone knows. Unlike Mina, he IS giggling and twirling his hair. Finds out your type and tries to be more like that. When called out on this, he starts stuttering and fake laughing and then changes the subject. Hes always bringing you water during training, too, and other stuff like that. Again. He's sweet but very young and inexperienced so he's a bit of a goof.

Soshiro Hoshina is arguably the most mature in love. He's dedicated and protective, loyal to a fault. Man's gotten his heart broken many times, I think. maybe even by Mina? One sided hoshimina...food for thought. If he's in love with you, he won't necessarily share that information outright, but he won't withhold it either if anyone asks. He watches you a lot; he'll pull strings to keep you safe. When it comes down to him nearly dying all the time though, he might impulsively tell you how he feels after the fact. But he is a little shit so he's probably going to tease you when your eyes pop out of your head after he walks up and says "i love you" without it being prompted.

Iharu Furuhashi is loud as shit when he's in love. He's not direct but he says objectively sappy things all the time to your face. Would flat out say "i fucking adore you, moron" if you didn't get it. Although he doesn't make it clear that his intentions are romantic (never says "I'm in love with you"), but like Reno he is not subtle. He's not as giddy and embarrassing as his "rival" is, but he's pretty obvious and forward about his feelings.

Gen Narumi is annoying when he's in love. He's bugs you nonstop and follows you like a puppy. Its embarrassing how smitten he is, honestly. What a boyfailure. He actually tries to clean up his act a bit to impress you, and shows off at every opportunity. If youre not impressed, he's sulking. If you are, he's puffed up and macho. Despite all his bs he's actually really in love with you and willing to do crazy shit to get your attention, not to mention keep you safe. Would refuse to die just to see you again.

Rin Shinonome is a shameless flirt. She'd totally call you "babe," wink, all that stuff. Like Narumi, she's kind of a showoff, but not to the same degree. And if you don't notice her, she won't pout; on the contrary, she'll work harder to get your attention. Makes fun of you lovingly. She's kind of frivolous and develops crushes on women all the time, but when it gets to be serious feelings she commits. Horniest of the group too, ngl

[possibilistfanfiction]

Omg i would loveee to read more about Cait’s difficulty dealing with changes when it comes to Vi specifically. The part where you wrote about her going to cry in the washroom when Vi got her summer haircut was adorable but also intrigued me to the point that I was thinking about what else, small things or big changes, she would have difficulty with? And how Vi helps her out in those moments with understanding?

sry i'm just going to be answering a few of these prompts that will show up being explored more in the longer vander fic (the wildfires are delaying my finishing it but one day!)

but ok for now :)

i think for the most part cait just has a hard time processing when ppl change physically (which is common w ppl on the spectrum etc, like girl me too! lol). it's not that she wants to control vi (or anyone!), but just that she processes her own self & appearance in relation to the ppl she's familiar with & cares for. when something changes suddenly it feels rly unsettling & upsetting bc she has to process it all way too fast for her brain, & it feels like her routine / understanding of the world is v abruptly disrupted. it's happened since she was little (& honestly even w her transition she obviously was very sure & excited & so relieved when she got the care she wanted, but she had to talk a lot abt it in therapy to feel ready! again, so fair!!)

the first time it happens w vi, she's like both upset & also extremely embarrassed bc a) vi looks hot? truly a great look, cait loves it & she's so handsome; b) even if she didn't, vi's body is her own & it's one of the things caitlyn cares abt the most -- making sure vi's autonomy is respected & celebrated; c) it made vi happy. so she's like upset, & then upset AT herself for being upset, & then kinda mortified bc she cried in a bathroom lol (to make matters worse jinx also witnessed her little meltdown)

vi just wants to take care of ppl tho & so obviously she's not mad, just kinda confused. she sends jinx off on some errand even tho jinx is like well *i* understand why she's upset but whatever, fine, i'll go pick up ice cream with your credit card :)

so cait & vi do talk & cait is like i'm sorry you look so handsome, i will explain. & she does & vi is like huh, ok. that's rly easy for me to help you with, i don't mind at all (bc it is easy & she rly genuinely doesn't mind)

so in the future if vi wants a haircut or a new tattoo or something she just tells cait like 2 weeks in advance & invites cait to come if she wants. sometimes it helps to see the change happening so she can process it beforehand & also in real time. vi just kind of does it w jinx too bc she'll talk abt it in front of both of them & jinx is like wow this is kinda nice, thanks cait :)

she probably needs a whole new round of therapy abt it once they have a kid bc vi understands cait's timing now but children are just growing & changing constantly lol. but she's the best mom, it's all good

[chimchiri]

For the requests: maybe Dash and Spitfire are doing some bonding gaming with Scoots? I'm sure they enjoy some console gaming, but maybe they could be convinced to do some board games as well?

I had to color this in because I loved this idea too much. Scootaloo gets some help from Spitfire and learns an important lesson about strategy and playing the long game.

Poor Rainbow gets demolished.

[katerinaaqu]

Oh. My. GOSH!!!! This looks amazing there my friend! Hehe sure it wasn't the initial thought but boy oh boy did you deliver as always! I am so sad that this doesn't have more attention because it deserves it! Honestly I fear I am not good for your posts here! Hahahahaha!

For starters I love it how the arm that holds the knife comes first to this since as you say it is a critical part for his story and the way he went by with his knife and all and how in a way even if he did build his own empire or kingdom he fell by the knife as well given the circumstances. I also love how the second focus here is the eye the way that it truly reflects the pain in him and all. I really adore it how he is the main focus in this image and how the blood seems to pass from his hand and over his eye like that! It almost feels indeed like blood is passing every aspect of his life! Even his mourning moment! I also love how we have the small cameo of Andromache and Helenus who stick together with each other and I actually love that even if we do not see details on their face, I can almost see the wonder and partial pity mixed with contempt in Andromache and the way Helenus pulls her aside like "Leave him alone have his moment".

Dunno indeed whether Helenus would be more compassionate to Pyrrhus or not given that he is a Trojan too not to mention how brutally Neoptolemus killed his father on the altar but the fact that Helenus was also rejected by his people or rather he felt so when he didn't win the hand of Helen somehow makes me wonder how deep would this man's bitterness go for his own people and how far for the Greeks? Could it be perhaps that this was the reason Neoptolemus entrusted him with the rule of that portion of his kingdom even giving him Andromache as his wife? Was Helenus closer to Neoptolemus? And if yes why? He would have no real reason to like the dude unless we say that his bitterness for his father's choice went THAT deep. Perhaps in a twisted psychological thing he saw Neoptolemus as the best of two evils given how potentially Odysseus didn't like persuade him to reveal the prophecy with sweet talking and sweet wine. Probably he physically and psychologically tormented Helenus to get the information out of him. Could it be that Helenus saw in a twisted psychology that leads almost to some sort of Stockholm Syndrome saw Neoptolemus almost like his "savior" in this case? Or at least a better choice than someone like Odysseus? Gosh too much to wonder about as an aftermath of that bloody war And of course Andromache who would have absolutely no reason to like Neoptolemus. I also wonder what her relationship with her own children by him would be? Would she love them as her own or would she hate them as his? Gosh that woman surely suffered enough! But I love how SOME part of Neoptolemus seems more "righteous" here, how both Helenus and Andromache seem to be free to walk, not tied with chains and all and they seem to accompany him so maybe just maybe Neoptolemus tried to do SOMETHING right here? Maybe not.

Anyways I got overly off topic here! But yeah I really like their designs and the way you designed their clothes even if they are so briefly shown. Last but not least I am IN LOVE with adult-like Neoptolemus here and the way he wears the lion skin over his shoulder! Dude are you pretending being Heracles?! Hahahahaha! Either way I love it as well as the way he stands over that tombstone they set with the few offerings! Man the fall of Phoenix truly must have crushed him inside even if he doesn't say so! And I absolutely LOVE the simple yet powerful effect of the shadows here! How Neoptolemous seems to be covered with a shadow that starts from the grave of Phoenix! As if he has just lost another piece of his out there; another person he looked up to! Whilst Andromache and Helenus are stepping out at the light as if they now are set for rebirth while Neoptolemus is set to sink more and more in his own shadow and sadness!

Dude I absolutely LOVE this!!! And as you can imagine I just HAD to write something about this given how few pieces centered on Neoptolemus we have out there!

*

The old man was dying. There was no doubt about that anymore and they didn't need the physician to tell them that. Years of warfare and sorrows and worries in combination to the long trips of the sea could break literally any person, both physically and mentally yet alone someone as old and frail as Phoenix. The old man was constantly covered in furs despite the fact that the weather was not particularly cold; shivering in his illness and fever. The rocking of the ship seemed more like torment than actual lullaby to him and not even when he was practically stuffed with chamomile teas and milk from white poppy to ease his pain did the old man stop moaning and complaining for the cold. His reason and sharp mind seemed lost now under the mist of illness and old age. There was not much one could do but expect the worst to come. Neoptolemus was silent looking at that frail body that had lost almost all meat and flesh in their trip shivering under the furs. His face was pale almost as much as the old man's and his soul was disturbed and foaming like the waves under the oars of his ship. They were heading north. They needed as much help as they could get! The old man was always there for him. Neoptolemus was not mentally prepared for a world without him. He had spent weeks and weeks practically DEMANDING from his physician to keep the man alive at ANY cost. They had tried warm spiced wine and broths and drinks and drugs only to keep the man afloat. Neoptolemus was never more desperate in his life.

"My lord...he is tired!" his physician had employed him, "Please, any more is just a torture for the old man! Not even Asclepius himself can save him! Just let him die in dignity"

"Listen here, you old fool!" Neoptolemus had growled at the poor man grabbing him by the shirt, "I ordered you to save him! He is Phoenix! He is the man that raised my father! There is no way in all hells of Tartarus that he can die like this! You shall save him or I'll have your head for this!"

Oh, how much had he yelled! He had screamed and threatened but now even Pyrrhus, Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles was silent and almost motionless. He could do nothing else but stare at the bed that was attended by one slave and that body he admired and respected be now eaten up like a corpse being eaten by a worm. He even felt disgusted. How was it possible for such a man end up like this! THIS is what death would do to people? He never realized that the disgust was deeply rooted to his self blame. He remembered the physician. Maybe he should have heeded his words and allow the old man die with dignity a long time ago. Was it his mistake that he wanted to hold out to the last moment?

"Water..." the old man begged, "Please...w-water..."

The slave brought a small sponge to his lips and drained some water in that dry mouth. Neoptolemus could not watch anymore! He felt like drowning! He almost screamed to the slave to leave the old man alone and let him die! But his heart once more wouldn't let him to.

"Neo...ptolemus..."

The voice made him stop in his track. It was Phoenix calling and despite the weakness in his voice he seemed bright as he was before this illness stroke him. Despite the weakness in his voice he was back at his old self.

"Old man..." Neoptolemus heard himself whispering and almost ran by his side but something inside him stopped him. Instead he slowly walked there and looked down at the man that had raised him before. He was sure his face was cold like stone and yet the old man didn't seem to care. Even more disturbingly he seemed to be able to read the uproar inside his soul. That old, wrinkled hand got out of the covers and held his. Neoptolemus felt the flame under his skin more intensely.

"It's okay...son...you are strong. It will be alright"

He was literally dying and he was trying to console him?! Neoptolemus didn't know if he had to scream or cry for it.

"I know you shall be a great king....people shall remember your name...your legacy shall live...my son... Pyrrhus..."

What a weird way to say it! He almost sounded lilke a prophet and Neoptoplemus had one of them with him already! Before he had time to respond, Phoenix pushed him away. He had no time to think or protest for he heard the old man breathe out and then he remained still. It was the same stillness that took over Neoptolemus; as if a cold wave had passed through his body. It was as if he was frozen solid.

"Old man..." he whispered, "Phoenix..."

The slave that was over him shook her head negatively. The others made a moaning sound and doubled over. Neoptolemus didn't need to have the intelligence he considered himself to have to understand the move. He didn't need to have the sharp eyes to see the scratches at the cheeks of the slaves they caused themselves or see their movements of beating their breasts or hear their moans to realize what had happened.

The old man had died.

It was as if finally he had reached the realm of the passing over; his soul leaving his body. The old man had protected him from yet another miasma at the last moment by pushing him away so that he wouldn't touch the dead! If the situation was any different then Neoptolemus might have laughed. He had killed so many people and yet the old man wanted to spare him from touching a dead body?! What an idea!

"O-Oi..." he whispered, "This is not true is it? Get up, old man! Get up! You can't be...this can't be true! Get up!" There was no response. That filled him with deadly fury! How DARED the old man play with him to check if he had a heart in his chest! How DARED he to do that! He made a step forward.

"Cut this out, old man! Get up! Get up! Damn you get up! You-..." The slave that grabbed him made him realize that he must have been ready to run at the bed. He could hardly feel yet alone understand what he was doing. It was the fury the only way he knew to show grief! It was the only way he ever learnt!

"Let me go! Damn you! Damn you! Old man! Get up! Get up! You can't be...you can't leave me too!! You can't! Damn you! Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!"

"My lord..."

The second pair of hands appeared. His slave, Helenus, the Trojan prince and prophet of Apollo. He was holding him firmly. Neoptolemus felt his old warrior muscles beneath his robes. His eyes were almost aflame in fury but Helenus didn't stop; he had seen plenty of death himself, plenty of misery, to be afraid of his new master's potential rage.

"It's over" Helenus said firmly, "Please! Stop this! He is with the gods now...he served his purpose on this life...don't make him have regrets...."

Was it this annoying calmness inside that man's eyes that set Neoptolemus aflame or was it his grief? He didn't know but for once Newoptolemus saw only red. He then felt the sound and feeling of flesh under his hand and before he knew it he saw Helenus stepping back, holding his cheek. His lip was bleeding however the man was standing firm.

"Please" he repeated in that annoying calmness, "Let Hermes claim his soul. You can kill me if you want, you can tear my flesh apart with your bare hands but please do no further here. This place is already contaminated with death. Do not contaminate it further!"

The son of Achilles saw his hand trembling. For one second he saw blood on his fist; the hand that held the sword and the knife. He gasped and stepped back. Wiping his hand to his robe.

"We make port!" he ordered loudly, "We shall bury him at dawn!"

"As you wish..." Helenus whispered bowing his head.

The young king stormed out of the room. He did not feel talking to anyone! On his way out he saw Andromache. His other slave and concubine. She was holding a baby in her arms; the child she had with him at Troy before they departed. Molossus would be his name, Neoptolemus had decided, "tall" "fierce" and "strong". For one second his mind ran back to her face as she held her other son back then; the one he violently yanked away from her arms. She was holding that baby like her life depended on it. This baby she had now she was holding it soullessly, almost out of pure obligation. His eyes shone warningly at her gaze.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped at her before running past her to the edge of the ship. He wanted to demand salt water to cleanse himself. How strange, he thought, so much death and he felt the need to cleanse himself now!

Andromache entered the chamber and her face turned to concern, running to Helenus.

"Are you okay?" she affectionately touched his cheek Helenus winced and flinched away.

"I'm fine. It's just a minor cut!" he affectionately touched her cheek,

"You must get out of here! Do not let yourself be contaminated by death..."

Andromache laughed soullessly.

"How can I be more contaminated than what I already am?" she whispered for his ears only, pointing at the baby in her arms, "How much more can this dead man contaminate me than that monster that sleeps with me and makes me carry his offspring with my king's blood still on his hands!"

"Sh!" Helenus silenced her softly, "Don't speak like that, my queen, he is our master now! If we want to survive we need to be smart."

"I don't care...." Andromache whispered

"But I do" Helenus whispered and blushed, "I care, my queen, I don't want to see you destroyed! This..." and he pointed at his cheeks, "Is nothing. He didn't mean it. I knew he would be unpredictable in his grief. But in his rage, my queen, make no mistake, he is kind to us while we are kind to him. He has a heart for justice deep down"

"He's a monster!"

"He might be..." Helenus agreed, "But even monsters have their reasons. We are here, away from the eyes of our conquerors. He trusts us. Let's not spoil everything..."

He kissed her forehead.

"Be strong and be brave, my queen"

"I no longer am a queen!" Andromache whispered sadly

"You are to me. You always were and always will be"

****

The funeral was small and yet Neoptolemus made sure nothing was missing out of it. He brought magnificent sacrifice at least as magnificent as he could. His slaves were using sulphous to cleanse the ships while the rest of them gathered around the pyre where Phoenix would be burnt with all his possessions and his armor, as he should be. Neoptolemus was standing still most of the time as the offerings were being made. As a prophet and an ex-priest of Troy, Helenus made the funeral prayers and offerings and cut the throats of the sacrificial animals. And then came the flame that was set upon the pyre. Neoptolemus's eyes reflecting the flames, feeling the warmth on his face.

"PHOENIX!"

the cry that was aimed for the dead to find his way to the underworld was heard. Neoptolemus didn't make a sound. He hardly moved any muscle.

"PHOENIX!"

He felt like ready to explode hearing the men speaking up the name that was not meant to be spoken the same way ever again. The man that raised him was gone. He died in the trip towards their destiny. Yet another father figure, the only one he truly had, was gone.

"PHOENIX!"

He gulped. He could do nothing else. He just remained there. He hardly moved as the slaves gathered the ashes and the bones and placed them at the urn or when that urn was placed on the ground and the monument was set over it. Some additional offerings were made. Neoptolemus remained unmoving; no different than a statue or a stone. He didn't move not even when most had long retired towards the funerary celebrations and games which Neoptolemus himself had dictated. Phoenix was dead, burnt and buried; away from their home, away from their homeland and away from the land he would aim to build his legacy. He could hardly feel his surroundings. Andromache slowly was taken away for last with Helenus and he was finally left alone.

Staring at the cold stone for one more time just like with his father...

"Atta..." he heard himself whispering

It had been years since the last time he did and yet now it came so easy to his lips...along with the pair of tears that came to his cheeks

"Atta!"

He knelt by the tomb, touching the cold stone with that blood-stained hand of his...

"Why...you too...why everyone leaves me! You were supposed to be with me! You were supposed to stay with me...!"

What a childish notion! What an idiotic idea! Phoenix was old. Many men before him had kicked the bucket earlier than that and yet the idea of a world without the old man seemed surreal almost fake. Neoptolemus couldn't remember a day in his life in this world where the old man was not there!

"I will do it, old man!" he whispered to the stone, "As you said; i will make it happen for you! You will be proud of me when my name will live for all eternity! You'll see! Wait and see! I'll make you proud!"

Neoptolemus allowed himself to be Pyrrhus one last time...for this man that raised him but when he stood back he was Neoptolemus again; his eyes cold and calculating. The flame inside them that was burning was indeed what Andromache had predicted; the thirst for conquest. That was the last stop of vulnerability, Neoptolemus thought! No more weakness, no more crying! He would make it happen! No matter what the cost!

He turned around...and left.

The only thing left behind was a white flower by the grave.

And even that seemed stained with blood...

*

Hehehehe sorry sorry couldn't help myself! Sorry this is messy I wrote it on the way and no planning was included here! I just thought that it would fit! Sorry if it is sloppy!

Now the "prophetic powers" before death seems to be a common factor for homeric characters who "predict the future" before they die for example Patroclus or Hector

The "prophecy" is inspired by history because not only does Alexander the Great keep the vision of Achilles alive because he descends by the mythical Molossians by Pyrrhus but also we have an actual historical king at the area named Pyrrhus thus in a way the name and the legacy continuing

The custom of calling one's name 3 times in the funeral is also mentioned in Homer's Odyssey when Odysseus offered funeral to his men after Ismarus (Also mentioned to my Ismarus retelling to Part 3)

"Atta" as spoken by Neoptolemus is a real word in ancient Greek that appears even in Homer: ἄττα literally means "old man" but is also a way for children to address a father figure like "uncle" or "dada" so in one way I wanted for the last moment Neoptolemus call Phoenix in a way "father" or "dada" but due to the complexity of the word I thought it would be more fitting to leave it untranslated.

Neoptolemus most likely will be from now on on his way for both his top and his rock bottom.

So yeah...random inspirations. Sorry again this is not like my other fic. Is more sloppy but I hope not terrible

Challenge Time!:

We know that Neoptolemus, according to some sources, started his trip to Epirus to start his own legacy and kingdom along with Phoenix and also his newly acquired slaves; his concubine Andromache and Helenus the prophet. However old Phoenix dies along the way and Neoptolemus has to stop and offer him a burial before continuing

So the challenge goes such:

Neoptolemus genuinely crying over dead or dying Phoenix showing there is still some emotion and emotional connection under the Visage of warrior and king and our psycho that we know.

For me Neoptolemus is kind of associated with blood and the color red (surprise haha), not in a sense of active battle, combat and injury resulted from it but “blood on your hands”, unnecessary violence and innocent casualties.

Just to justify why I have to add it all the time while drawing him.

Oh yes and cameo from Helenus and Andromache.