#sunday take as long as you need honey

[milksnake-tea]

Sunday drip marketing was so cool yesterday haha,,,,

STOP RN 😭😭😭 HONESTLY IDC WHO IT IS I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHOS COMING ON THE SECOND BANNER BUT WE GOT NO ONE????? like pleek just lemme know if its safe to roll for feixiao or not 😭

[gachaparadise]

ahhh the Penacony leaks are really coming in now.

*chuckles* I'm in danger.

[merlucide]

BOKUTO.ೃ࿔* who desperately wants you to think he’s cool. He’ll do everything in his power to impress you—oh, your bag is too heavy? No problem! Bo’s got it! aaaand he can carry Akaashi’s bag too! See how strong he is? Isn’t he the coolest?! Wait—hold on, you really think so?

KUROO.ೃ࿔* who loves when you manhandle him. Tug him by his tie, and honey he’s at your mercy. Slide your hands along his neck with that sly smile of yours, and you’ll have him utterly undone. He just has to lean in with a lopsided smirk, hand cupping your jaw, being completely enchanted by you.

TSUKKI.ೃ࿔* who keeps you from wandering aimlessly like a lost puppy. You always ‘turn your brain off’, according to Kei. he’ll firmly place his hand on the top of your head and steer you in the right direction, rolling his eyes and teasing about how you’d be completely and utterly lost without him.

SUNARIN.ೃ࿔* who always, ALWAYS, has to have his hands on you. If you are with in reach he will rest his hands on your hips and tug you against him. If you’re walking around then your fingers will be interlocked. He also likes to put his hand in your back pocket in your jeans

IWAIZUMI.ೃ࿔* who gets genuinely gets flustered every time you compliment him. It could be anything small, like a simple ‘That’s a good color on you’ has him bashfully muttering a small ‘thanks,’ with his cheeks tinged pink. He hates how easily you turn him into a mess—especially when you giggle in realization and lean in to kiss him— Oh he just can’t take it!!

AKAASHI.ೃ࿔* who always walks you to and from your destination, no matter the time, place, or weather. Any time spent with you is spent well. He needs to make sure you get to your destination safely of course! He waits until he absolutely cannot see you anymore before he starts his journey back.

ATSUMU.ೃ࿔* who gives the BEST hugs. You always feel so safe and so loved when his arms are wrapped firmly around your waist. His head tucks into your neck as if he never wants to let go. And when he’s feeling all soft, he’ll cradle your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing tenderly across your skin as he gazes at you like you hung the stars. Though, that’s just ‘Tsumu’s normal expression when you’re around.

KAGEYAMA.ೃ࿔* who’s always looking for you, even if you’re not there. It’s just a habit of his, probably because his mind is constantly plagued of your smiling face 24/7. The moment he spots you, he’s making a beeline, linking his pinky with yours whispering ‘What took you so long?’.

USHIWAKA.ೃ࿔* who’s the perfect gentleman. He pulls out your chair, walks on the side closest to the road, and never shows up empty-handed, always bringing you a bouquet of roses on every Sunday with a respectful kiss on the hand. Life with ‘Toshi is as easy as breathing.

OIKAWA.ೃ࿔* who can’t help but be ridiculously cheesy, really he can’t! Not when you’re his darling sugarplum and one and only till the end of forever! Reject his dramatic love proclamations? Oh, absolutely not! That’s just who he is, and you’ll have to endure it, sweetheart.

HINATA.ೃ࿔* who always offers piggyback rides when your feet hurt. Don’t underestimate his little body!—he can lift you with ease, carrying you down the street like it’s nothing. Sho’ would insist you get on his back regardless if your feet hurt or not—can you really blame him? Who wouldn’t want a cutie hanging onto them!

KENMA.ೃ࿔* who silently watches you in admiration when you put your makeup on. Sitting on the toilet lid, he holds your makeup bag and hands you your lip gloss before you even ask. He shyly looks away with his cheeks warm and lips pursed together when you ask ‘how do I look?’.

OSAMU.ೃ࿔* who can’t help the loopy grin on his face when you do a little twirl, showing off your new outfit. He could care less about shopping, truly, he hates it. But if it means seeing you all dolled up and happy, he doesn’t mind it one bit.

SAKUSA.ೃ࿔* who pulls you close to him when you are in public spaces. He takes your hands and squirts his Hello Kitty hand sanitizer (The one you got him) into your hands before rubbing his own. Scathingly glares at the man who accidentally bumped into you. He absolutely cannot let you have unwanted contact with strangers! no yucky germs allowed on his baby.

YAMAGUCHI.ೃ࿔* who always firmly holds your hand in crowds. Out in public he’ll hold your hand regardless, but when everyone is packed together his anxiety skyrockets. He’s always nervous of you two being separated in the crowd. He takes the lead to guide you both out of the mingled mess of people, and when it’s over, please give him a  forehead kiss—he’s earned it.

TENDOU.ೃ࿔* who takes Shounen Saturdays very seriously. You don’t get to skip it! Not when it’s a sacred tradition of binge-watching both of your favorite shows with sugary snacks! You two are all bundled together on the couch and gasping and giggling at the TV. He refuses to let you watch the next episode without him, Will curse your whole bloodline if you do (affectionate).

HOSHIUMI.ೃ࿔* who might just be the worst person to play board games with. When he’s winning, he’s full of smug trash talk, loudly boasting about his ‘inevitable victory’, but the second he starts losing? ‘This game is rigged!’ ‘you cheated!,’ or ‘this is bullshit!’. It’s even worse better when there’s a bet involved—he’ll do anything to avoid letting you win. That’s how you get him to help you clean most the time hehe.

LEV.ೃ࿔* who clings to you, always. You are concerned for his neck and back for always resting around you in uncomfortable positions, but he never seems to complain. Standing up Lev has his arms around you and head smushed against yours, laying down his long legs wrap around your own and he burrows himself in your warmth. If Lev could have it his way, he would never stop touching you.

AONE.ೃ࿔* who’s a certified purse carrier. you don’t make him— of course not! He insists actually. He could care less about being seen with a hot pink decorated purse slung on his arm, it’s quite the sight. This also goes for shopping of course, Nobu’ just trails behind with arms full of whatever you managed to snag on 50% off.

uhu I wrote some for kyotani+suga+goshiki+etc but I didn’t like them sob sob

lemme know whatcha think! (And if I should do pt2 lolz)

made January 26th 2025

[oceantornadoo]

dubcon, objectification, forced (?) threesome, f!reader

they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

ghost finds you ten months after your divorce, nursing a drink in a shithole of a pub. he doesn’t consider himself a good man, licking the tears on your cheeks when he fucks you for the first time, ignoring your whines of how “it’s been a while” and you’re “too tight.” he doesn’t like to keep birds around longer than a night, but something about how you wrap your leg around him in the morning makes him stay a little longer.

he lets you call him simon after you whine that you “can’t fuck him without knowing his name.” it takes a bit, but you get used to sleeping with someone who isn’t your ex-husband. he calls you bird instead of sweetheart, love instead of darling and after a while, the word honey loses its significance. when simon tells you he’s military, you try to leave his bed, only for him to pull you by the thigh, apologizing with his tongue in your cunt. simon doesn’t date and you aren’t ready for it, content to stay in your respective apartments, living for his occasional half-smiles and usual gruff admonishments. its a bit new to simon - he’s used his camera app more in the past weeks than he has in years. always pictures of you: his cum on your tits, the bruises he leaves on your hips, a rare photo of you sleeping. he even lets you corral him into taking a cheesy mirror picture, his arms dwarfing your waist with his face tucked into your neck, your jawline exposed as you turn to kiss his cheek.

it’s two months later when you promise to cook him a meal for the first time, a sunday roast he hasn’t tasted in years. “better not take too long, bird, ‘m starvin’.” simon murmurs in your ear, hands squeezing your stomach and waist as you fumble with your keys. “i’ve had it slow cooking before i left for yours last night. it’ll put us in a food coma.” you finally put the key in the lock, turning it with force before simon decides to fuck you against the door. he dips to bite your neck, sending you into your apartment giggling, swatting him off you. the weight of your divorce is finally off your shoulders, happy butterflies fluttering in your stomach formed by simon’s continuous presence.

the butterflies die when you see a familiar pair of boots at your door.

“stay here.” you order simon, a change from your usual dynamic. you can’t focus on his reaction, set on edge by the sounds of pots clanging in your kitchen. there’s no point in creeping - he knows you’re here. you turn the corner and there he is - your ex husband. “you’re just in time, sweetheart. nice ‘f you to make a roast.”

john’s standing there like he owns the place, like he knows this kitchen he’s never been in. he’s boiling potatoes on the stove, keeping an eye on the slow cooker timer. he’s even poured himself a fucking drink, a scotch he had to have brought since all you have is wine and simon’s whiskey. all smug and entitled in his civvies, commanding the room like he pays your rent. he's still as handsome as ever, darker eye bags the only indication he's been losing sleep.

“what the fuck are you doing here, john?” john doesn’t answer immediately, instead using a fork to test the potatoes. satisfied, he takes them off the burner and turns to the sink, dumping them out in a prepared strainer. “‘s our anniversary, sweetheart. thought that’s why you made the food.” you can sense simon still in the doorway, his presence unknown to your ex. it gives you strength, a guard dog at your back, and comfort that he’s letting you run this on your own. “our anniversary ended when we signed the papers. i don’t know how you got in here, but you need to leave.” he frowns at you and it almost tugs at your heart strings. your brain conjures images of his coldness and constant distance, and you shut that down real fast. unfortunately, he doesn’t get the memo. john takes a step closer, hands up like he’s approaching a wild animal. “honey, i-“ and that’s when ghost steps out of the darkness.

there’s a long pause. it boosts your ego a bit, showing john you’ve moved on, until the silence is so long that you start to worry. you chance a look at simon’s face and find it confused, not at all the guard dog you thought he was. a glance at john’s reveals the same. you’re about to ask your question when they answer it for you. “captain.” “lieutenant.” “what?”

the transformation happens in an instant. both men straighten to their full heights, wiping any emotion off their faces. their brows furrow as they flex their hands to control their instincts. how could you not see it before? simon only mentioned he was military, but the stamp of the SAS is clear as day. it was in the harsh lines he carried, a companionship with death, not unlike the one john had.

john started first, of course, always having to take control of the situation. “you fuckin’ my lieutenant, sweetheart? miss me that much?” you rolled your eyes at his cruel words, inching closer to simon. “whatever we do doesn’t concern you.” you emphasized the “you”, spitting it out with venom. john hums low, making you nervous. you turn to simon, but he's quiet and calculating, communicating silently with his captain.

"didn't know you had a wife, sir." you answer before john can. "we divorced a year ago." john chimes in. "to the day, actually. she served me on our anniversary." simon looks down at you, the man you thought you knew now gone. his eyes are black pits, targeting you like you're prey. "that's cruel, bird." you sputter, backing into the kitchen cabinets. you walk until your back hits the sink, each man on either side of you. john has his arms crossed and head cocked to the side, like you're about to get chewed out by the school principal. simon looks...no longer human. unrestrained. whatever spark you two had has gone out, replaced by sheer loyalty to his captain. "show the captain what he's been missin', love. y've been starvin' him." he moves at lightning speed, picking you up and dropping you on the island counter, sunday roast long forgotten.

"simon?" he doesn't answer, scarred hands squeezing up and down your body as john watches from behind him, arms crossed and eyes searching. your mind is telling you one thing but your body wants another. some twisted part of your brain reminds you that john came to visit on your anniversary, even though you threw him out a year ago. simon's no better, coaxing your sweater off your torso, leaving you exposed in a lacy bra. your nipples harden and john sees, making a clicking noise with his tongue. "warm 'er up, lieutenant." simon obeys instantly, pulling down the cup of your bra to suck on your nipple. he's ravenous, no sunday roast in sight, and he's decided you're his meal instead. he sucks hard, a calloused hand reaching up to pull your other tit out so you're fully exposed to your two men. he squeezes it with reverence, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucks hard on the other one, not minding his own teeth.

it's dirty - watching john watch you. you hadn't fucked in the last months before the divorce. he was always too busy, on base or deployed, and you were so angry you couldn't let him near you. now, your ex-husband moves closer, taking in the sight of his lieutenant feasting. "miss me, sweetheart?" you shake your head on instinct. he sighs at your attitude. you're seated on the corner of the island, perfect for john to come up on your side, one large paw making its way towards your jaw, turning you towards him. "say it." you shake your head again. john sticks a thumb into your mouth, pushing against your teeth. you try to force him out, but simon bites your tit, making you gasp and let john in anyways. you suck his thumb defiantly, gazing at him with all the emotions you can't convey.

you look so pretty like this, john decides. laid out for his lieutenant, taking his orders as well as your emotions will allow. he decides to forgive you for your indiscretions with ghost - at least it was with one of his own men. they're practically an extension of himself. john hooks his thumb into the gap between your tongue and teeth and pulls, forcing you right into his space. "i reckon your cunt's nice an' wet, though. should i check? know she's missed me even if you won't admit it." your eyes go wide, giving him an answer he already knew. simon follows orders well, manhandling you into position by yanking off your jeans. there's a wet spot on the light fabric of your underwear. john can practically see your cunt clinging to it, begging for him to say hello.

"want ya to take 'em off y'self, bird." simon's finally speaking, the glaze in his eyes fading. he looks at you, then his captain, and it makes sense. how you're used to being led but refuse it all the same. how you're desperate for affection but won't date him because he's military. you're scarred from the chains of your marriage, so it only makes sense that he's the one you seek out - the opposite of husband material. more dog than human on his worst days. simon stares at you until you follow his command, meekly lifting up your hips as you take off your underwear. your cunt is sopping, in a way it only does when you’re ovulating, practically begging for it. your ex-husband whistles through his teeth like he’s praising a recruit. “knew she’d be happy to see me. hullo, darling.” you can’t find it in you to cringe. john starts running his fingers through your folds, inspecting, and all you can do is stare. stare at the veins in his forearm. stare at simon behind him, eyes trained on his captain’s movements. stare at the counter where your juices start to gather and wonder how the hell you got into this situation.

“pinch ‘er tit an’ watch ‘er flutter.” simon’s callous with his instructions but john follows them anyway, his unoccupied hand reaching up to pinch your nipple. you can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way your cunt flutters around john’s fingers. he hums thoughtfully. john decides you’ve been good, if not a bit quiet, and presses his thumb against your clit as a reward. he starts rubbing in that pattern that would get you off without fail during your marriage. he fits one finger into you easily as you grip the counter hard, the sudden sensation overwhelming. simon peers over his shoulder like a fucking scientist. “‘f she gets bratty, i pull back the hood til she screams.” like your cunt’s a machine and they have the two pieces of its manual. john’s movements are making you desperate, hips starting to buck against his fingers. he chuckles and adds another, not hiding a smile when you sigh in relief. simon’s hands come to your waist, helping you fuck yourself on price’s fingers. it feels so wrong, having them barely listen to your pleas, and yet being under their watch is the most right you’ve ever felt in your life. that’s what brings your orgasm - not john’s thick fingers on your cunt, his rough thumb in your clit - but two sets of hungry eyes on you, like you’re their last meal. john fucks you through your orgasm, simon not letting you out of his grasp until tears start to form, the embarrassment of your own wetness coming to the front of your mind. john slowly removes his fingers and brings them to simon’s mouth to taste, not satisfied until his lieutenant hums in agreement. the two men turn to you, naked save for your disheveled bra around your waist, somehow making the scene more depraved.

“‘ow ‘bout that roast, love?” simon murmurs gruffly.

good thing john never signed the divorce papers.

[asyliah]

Mindfucked!

𐙚 . sum : You just found out Sunday can do hypnosis, so you took advantage to it and asked for—seggs. Inspo 💌

𐙚 . warnings . Dom sunday .ᐟ Usage of hypnosis in sexual act .ᐟ unprotected sex .ᐟ p in v .ᐟ slight choking .ᐟ consensual .ᐟ cunnillingus .ᐟ not proof read .ᐟ i wrote this at 12 am

Wc . 1.82k

Hypnotist!Sunday who have the power to take control in your body and mind just by using his sweet saccharine voice, dripping honey and lovely tone. His voice drawn you like like a bee, attracted to a flower's bud when it's a venus trap.

Hypnotist!Sunday who's amused in your request, and took you in a neary love motel—an expensive one. In the queen sized bed with silk sheets, your naked body all bare for him to see as his voice worked into your mind and body, taking a control of it. You were so susceptible to it, so obedient for him. His voice just echoed and feel it reaches into the back of your head and tingle making your whole body jolt and your eyes cross from the feeling.

Hypnotist!Sunday listened to your pleas when you have discovered of his secret quirks in one the gathering of few people in the party. You thought it was a good idea to use his quirks for something more inappropriate. How come you not able to resist? Some guy just said if his hypnosis may able to use in sexual way, and the thought of it lingers in tthe back of your mind. So you pull him into a private place and ask him trying to be thick faced for the very first time. Your past hook-ups were never good in bed, as if something lacks in them.

Hypnotist!Sunday who's at your back and nibbling at your ear, whispering his commands to you: "Listen to my voice, as you breathe in and out. Try to feel feel the tingles in your body like an electricity flowing into your veins. Yes, feel it. You should feel it. I want you to feel it. That tingle, that itch inside you that you cant scratch. The chill that runs into your spine. In the count of one, two, three, you will be bound my words and only my words alone." When he snapped his fingers, you almost screamed at the sudden sensation overflowing into you. It felt like hand roamed every inch of your body, even though Sunday didn't touch you. You drool from the immense pleasure and gripped into his wrists for support.

Hypnotist!Sunday who is so mean and conjured up a flashlight and put you into trance once again as he whispers into you so lovingly and controlling, "In the count of One. Two. Three. This flashlight and your cunt shall be connected." Your drowsy state look at him, his hard and big cock positioning infront of you as the fleshlight laid into your abdomen. He tried to rail the fleshlight as if it was your own tight pussy. God—you could feel his cock rearranging you even though he wasnt inside you. You screamed in pleasure, your hands gripping to the pillows above you as the pleasure intensify that feeling of non-existent cock destroy your inside.

Hypnotist!Sunday who came into the fleshlight, and you also feel a hot liquid painting into you, also cumming after him. When he took his still hardened cock from the fleshlight, there were strings of cum dripping into it. You look at him with pleading eyes, your pussy needed him---his cock. You wanted something long and hard into you, and fill you up. Not some kind of feeling trying to project into you. All fours in the bed and reaching out to his cock, you give him a long lick and smiled. "I want it. I want real sex."

Hypnotist!Sunday that's been intoxicated at you, pins you down into the bed once again, asking if you were sure about this because he would contain yourself and just fuck you till you're dumb at his cock.

Hypnotist!Sunday who slowly enters your tight walls, that gummy feeling trying hug his hard cock as your wetness guides him more. Even though he hasnt fully enter, your pussy tingles so much as if it was waiting for it's entire life for Sunday's cock. His whole length suddenly rams, reaching the tip of his cock in your cervix. He didn't stop from ramming it, he gripped your thighs and spread your legs more, seeing his cock in and out into that creamy cunt. Sunday swears he's getting crazy at the sight of you taking his cock, drooling and moaning like a mess.

Hypnotist!Sunday who keeps repeating the same words into your trance state, the word "It feels good" suddenly keeps repeating into your mind like a mantra, while his cock stretches you out and reached into the parts you did not know there were. You keep babbling "it feels good" both in your mind and mouth, you're completely at his mercy.

Hypnotist!Sunday who sees you covering your face when he felt your pussy is cleching him, a sign that you're cumming soon. You felt too good, that you don't know what to do anymore. Your hips jerked from the pleasure, toes curling while Sunday grunted from the ecstacy he felt. It was like a cloud nine, you were like the gates to heaven. Both of your hands were pin into above you, revealing your flushed face reducing into a babble mess. "Dont hide your face..." His hips grind in you, "I wanna see your face when I cum," and Sunday leaned closer and kissed you deeply, his tounge works with yours—both hungry for each other.

Hypnotist!Sunday take a grip into your chin and hold it, his hands wander into you neck as he slightly put a pressure. "Bear with me," he said, while giving a small smile. He then rock his hips, and he could see the base pf his cock forning white ring. When he glanced at you still in trance, he whispered another command into you. "I'm cumming." He grunted, even though he only said one word, your mind was playing tricks to you and his voice keep playing to your mind. He take a one snap in his hips and came into you.

Hypnotist!Sunday who is tempted by you when you still begged for me, asking for more of him and his kisses. How come he say no? You were too cute begging for me, your legs trapped him from getting up. The look in your eye seem so innocent when you begged for his cock to rail you once again.

Hypnotist!Sunday who knew he's in trouble when he felt his cock go hard once again.

🧷 @asyliah

[rose-maidenn]

⋆✿˖°Pick a Pile : What do People dream of you ⋆✿˖

Hey guys here in this reading I dive into various kinds of dreams people have about you some can be very clear and other can be eerie , select any Pile using your intuition and all of it might not reasonate as it is a collective reading

Masterlist | old masterlist

Want a longer reading or another reading book at

Paid readings

Pile 1 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read).

Manhattan, 444 , deli , delhi, psychedelic rock , chappal roan , Manu, sweet 16 , Anna karenina , Malcom and Marie, Mr and Mrs Smith, sweet blond jesus , sundays , 1970s , breakfast , clear cut diamonds , heist , monetairy affair, mole on the left side of cheek , glittery dress , you're wearing pink or yellow or black as you read , you have birthday on 5,21,8,5,12 of the month , you're born on Wednesday.

The first dream about you is dreamt by a young girl or a female friend you admire a lot , it's about shopping and spending time together in a cafe and having doughnuts and chatting about how so many changes have befall you yet how close the both of you feel to each other . I see the symbolism of the fan maybe this conversation is carried out as you guys look at the ceiling .

The next dream about you is dreamt by your mother about you being successful, maybe in a business industry or the singing industry , you might be an alto , I see peonies being represented (wealth and prosperity) , she also might have received a task to do to ensure that something involving writing a small chit and placing it somewhere maybe in the altar, money bowl etc .

The third dream I tap in is dreamt by an online friend , blond or red hairs , they dream of you in a garden harvesting fruit with them I see a lot of red around, this could be sunset time or the colour of the realm is red . I see that they relate to you a lot and want to spend time with you . They keep you in their prayers a lot and hence they dream of you so vividly.

Pile 2 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read):

Cobra Kai , 555, Birth of venus , a purple car , crown , eatery , devilish sweet , idiocracy , self made star , faraway land , willow , apples , yule ball , Saraswati, Athena, yellow , Azul, attar , dogs , bed bugs, blond hair , Birth mark on bosum or scalp , you're burning a candle as you read , you're wearing white , blue or green as you read . Born on 31 , 3 , 7 , 6 , 17 of the month . Born on Tuesday or Friday

The first dream about you is dreamt about you is a weird competitive and erotic dream , it's dreamt by a colleague who has been dreaming to overthrow you , they're so obsessed with you it has turned psychosexual , I'm not getting into details but you might need to do a cord cutting , I feel you're also experiencing dreams about them , honey go ahead and cleanse yourself.

The next dream about you is from an admirer I see them taking you on a helicopter or a private jet to an island and talking with you all day long , they play with your hairs make you food mainly pasta and give you a head massage. They get continuous dreams about you , in other dates they visit museums and sit by rivers talking to you about classics , their childhood and your wishes and wants , sweet so sweet .

The third dream about you is dreamt by a teacher or a guru or a superior, it's related to your academic or spiritual journey , you're on your way to unlock new horizons and the teacher is being asked to prepare themselves to guide you properly . They also see that you place them in your success story and make them famous much like they becoming famous because their student made it big in life .

Pile 3 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read):

Sylvia plath , danger , conceit , burrow , red alert , sapphires, skin , the substance , weaving , crocheting , barbie in the 12 dancing princesses , Trans, bi , blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb , lack of communication, berries , rainbows , horses, manifesting generator , wedding bells , piercings and snake or quote tattoos , you're wearing pyjamas as you read . You're wearing red , sheer , beige , pink as you read . You are Born on 1, 18 , 19 , 25 , 13 , you are Born on Thursday, Monday .

The very first dream is by a friend you are cut off from or just fell apart from , they're dreaming of you near a fountain or a water body giving them advice or consoling them about something this person is having a bad time actually they sleep really less , maybe you should talk if they aren't bad or toxic . They also dream of you both being In a concert maybe guns and roses

The next dream is by someone who is actively manifesting you , it's crazy and eerie , they don't see your face , could be a soul mate or someone from your soul tribe, they see you spending their time with them and talking about various subjects , also going on a travelling journey also see some arguments and casino is also seen . Guys it's 1:11 am hehe a confirmation

The third dream is an absolute action packed banger of a dream could call it a batman coded superhero dream , it is being dreamt by a past admirer or a childhood friend who still likes you, you're being upheld by a monster who keeps eating your skin and then he /she comes along and protects you and heals you through some dna regeneration technology and then yall kiss and call it a night.

Thanks for reading hope it helped 🌸✨️

[harrywritingsbyme]

Sunday Smut Concept #33

a/n: I lowkey missed Sunday Smut Concepts…might do another part to this one, so #33b lol, i had more ideas for this one, but it was getting a bit long for a ssc :p this one is very smutty, i had to take some breaks in between writing…enjoy😗

nsfw inspo #1 (tumblr took the one i rlly wanted to use down 😑 )

nsfw inspo #2 (twt link)

Sunday Smut Concepts

word count ~ 1.9k words

Harry is completely insatiable. And insatiable for you only. He could have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still crave more. Of course, Harry wanted all of you, but if he had to pick what he wanted the most, he’d have to choose the sweet and warm honey pot between your legs. And more specifically, he wanted to have his mouth locked against the slice of heaven perfectly placed between your delectable thighs more than anything.

Harry is, and will always be, a serial eater. Like he doesn’t even need to 69 to have your mouth on him while he’s crammed between your legs. All he needs is you stuffed in his mouth and his hand. To Harry, your body as a whole, from your head to your feet, deserved to be studied, worshipped and praised. And he took the time to do just that, spending a little extra time at the altar between your legs. And, of course, Harry also had his favorite ways of doing it.

Of course, his go-to, foolproof, always satisfying way of devouring you was with your body sprawled out on the bed in front of him. You’re completely naked, your head nestled deep into the pillows, your legs completely spread with himself being hungrily stationed between them, and your hips propped up with a pillow that would act as a serving dish to present your inviting and utterly mouthwatering main course.

While this position may have been seen as basic or boring to some, Harry thought otherwise. For starters, this position allowed you to be the most relaxed, comfortable, and pleasured as possible, which was always first and foremost to Harry. Now, it may have been a bit uncomfortable if you were lying on your home's hardwood floors after failing to reach the bedroom, but that's beside the point. In this position, Harry was able to thoroughly explore you, pushing his tongue into every one of your folds and exploring them. 

Lying flat on the bed between your legs, Harry’d methodically yet eagerly lick into you. He’d repeatedly drag his tongue through your center, lapping up all your juices, every movement of his tongue being different from the last as he wanted, no needed, all of you in his mouth. With every famished flick of his tongue, Harry almost vacuum your clit into his mouth, suckling on the throbbing bundle of nerves as hard as possible. And when he finally releases the pressure of his mouth, he’d do it all over again. His once mouthwatering need turned into full-on slobbering against your cunt, rustling his head in between your legs to push his open mouth and greedy tongue further into you. Through your trembling moans and shaky cries, you could hear Harry’s labored pants through the wet sounds of his tongue gliding through your center. It was like your center was essential for him to live.

Even when you tried to shut your thighs from how intense the pleasure was or push his head away to get a break from his wild tongue, Harry wouldn’t let up. In fact, your trying to run away only made him go harder. He’d dig his fingers into your thighs, clawing them apart and making even messier, more frenzied movements against you. He’d start to slurp up all your juices, opening his mouth even more to eat more of you at once. He’d even push your legs up towards your chest, slightly pinching your pussy together for him to bury himself between. Strings of his saliva mixed with your arousal connect his mouth to your center whenever his lips leave your flooded pussy, juices dripping down from your clit to your much tighter entrance. The wet slurping sounds of Harry tonguing and eating at your sticky cunt mix with the desperate and pleasured whines leaving your lips, the erotic sounds completely filling the room.

Harry continues licking through your folds, suctioning your clit into his mouth as he feasts on you. Craving more, Harry pulls his mouth back to not just admire the sticky mess he’s made between your legs but to also make even more of a mess. He leans down and slowly spits down onto your silky entrance, pushing his tongue in right behind. At this, you really try to close your legs around his head, the sensation of the tip of his tongue thrusting in and out of your entrance overwhelming your senses. Your cries become louder from the pleasure, which only egg him on further.

 And further, he goes because Harry is lapping at your second entrance not long after he’s tonguing at your entrance, gathering the juices that spilled over onto his tongue. While he went to work down there, Harry made sure to continue taking care of your pussy, bringing a hand down from its station on your flailing thighs to toy with you until he brought his mouth back. You could feel his tongue swirling around your tight entrance as his fingers pinched your swollen clit, slid between your folds, and pumped in and out of you, every once in a while curling upwards to nudge at your sweet spot, causing your hips to fly up at the sensation and a gasp to leave your mouth. Harry then brings his mouth back up to your center, licking a wide stripe up from your bottom all the way to your clit before continuing with his fervent and borderline famished mouthing at your cunt.

Now while eating your pussy was more than enough to get him riled up, the sound of your cries and moans and the feeling of you fighting his mouth really did a number on him. As he ate you, he’d picture you reacting to the pleasure. He could imagine your face and chest glistening with a light layer of sweat as your body convulsed from the pleasure it was receiving from his mouth. Tiny beads of sweat form at your hairline, some falling down the side of your face to mix with the tears of pleasure escaping your eyes despite them being screwed shut. Your mouth hung open, with the most wanton and shaky moans and cries leaving your lips that were swollen from your biting. The pleasure was so intense that your body didn’t know if it wanted a break or even more. He could imagine the coil in the pit of your stomach winding up with every lick or suck into you, becoming so tight that it was on the brink of snapping at any moment.

Harry was still happily nose-deep in your cunt when you got too tired to even fight the sensation anymore. Continuing to lick into you, He peeks up over your delicious mound to find you exactly how he’d painted you in his mind, only with the nice added touch of one of your hands gripping onto the rounded and supple flesh of your breasts. If he could have captured this scene in film, hell, if he could commission a painting of this very moment, he would. Somehow, despite the seismic release that was barreling towards him at lightning speed, the sight of you clinging to your breast for support through the intense pleasure gave him his second wind. 

Or at least he thought it did. See, while the mere sight of you could have Harry making a complete mess of his pants, eating your warm cunt sent Harry into overdrive. He’d come so hard that he’d be a little dizzy afterward. After repeatedly grinding his hips down into the mattress, fucking himself against the sheets, and unintentionally edging himself, not to mention the fact that your entrance was quaking at your own impending release. Harry was a goner. Moving one hand from your thighs, Harry reaches up your body and places his larger hand on top of yours, squeezing your hand. His gentle action was like a nonverbal ‘let go,’ and that you did. You completely crumble under his touch, letting out the breathiest high-pitched string of moans as your orgasm consumes you, the shockwaves radiating through your body, your skin becoming prickly with goosebumps as the coil of red hot pleasure in the pit of your stomach snapped and flooded your senses. Even though Harry consistently delivered earth-shattering orgasms to you, it was still overwhelming in that moment. Harry kept his mouth on you through your entire orgasm, not wanting a single drop of your nectar to be wasted. And as if your climax set off a chain reaction, Harry could feel his own release rushing in. So he pulls himself up from the bed and kneels between your legs, giving his neglected and throbbing member a few tugs. The head of his cock was red and shining with precum, and his thick shaft was rock hard, with the thick vein running up the underside of him bulging out against his palm with every pump of his hand.

“Where do you want it, baby? In here or in your mouth?” He rasps, placing a hand on your lower stomach, on the edge of his own release. When he feels your hand fall on top of his, Harry instantly lines himself up with your pulsating entrance before slowly pushing into you, stretching your walls to fit. His hips weren’t even pressed up against yours when he began to spill his warm seed into you, but he continued pushing further between your walls. When you feel his warmth flowing into you, a small mewl slips past your lips. Harry came hard, your cunt milking him completely dry as rope after rope of his cum painted your walls. Harry clung to your thighs as pleasured groans left his throat. You watched through heavy eyes as his head tilted back, exposing the bobbing adam’s apple against his throat. Your hand then moves from on top of his to the side of his thigh that was pressed against yours, causing a lust-filled groan to bubble up in his throat. It was the small moments of intimacy that made you both completely feral for one another. 

When he’s finally done coming, Harry slowly pulls out of you, exposing his now glistening cock. He can see his milky cum rushing to your entrance, a little spilling out of you. Despite needing a break, Harry badly wanted to mouth at your now stuffed entrance. But your pleasure was more important, and right now, you were fully tapped out. So, he settled on leaving a small peck at the hypersensitive pearl peeking out from between your glistening folds, causing you to jump a little. Harry then moves up to the top of the bed to rest beside you.

“I love you, baby. You did so good.” He chuckles at your previous reaction, leaving a string of small kisses against your lips before pulling you into his strong body, pulling the covers over you both, and lovingly caressing your side to soothe you. 

“I think you were trying to kill me.” You mumble as an I love you too, curling into Harry’s side and lifting your leg over his muscular thigh as he laughs at your statement. Your legs now spread to reveal your cum and arousal-soaked flower beneath the sheets. 

As he drifted off into a light sleep like you’d already done, Harry wondered if you’d be interested in capturing these sinfully intoxicating, beautifully intimate moments.

Masterlist

[focalove]

Bathing with him

Cw! : gn!reader....... with some mentions of maybe f!/m!reader, mentions of d*ck, nothing too explicit. written before sunday & aven release!

Aventurine

✦ 01 bb come home the kids miss u :(

✦ 02 Though, by all means, Aventurine never or rarely reveal his ✦ bare naked self infront of anyone. So congratulations for achieving this level of intimacy with him

✦ 03 At first he'd be so cocky and teaseful when you asked him if you wanted to bath with him

✦ 04 "Oh? princess/prince-y here wants to bathe with me? well what's the occasion, or are you just that touch starved?" he snickered with a smirk of a devil in his face

✦ 05 I also think he'd also ask you to undress you to like "sweetie… I don't think I can take off my shirt… can you help me?" and he would be dangling his chest window area

✦ 06 and his pants too maybe, to show you his d---

✦ 07 anywayz, when both of you finally get in the bathtub, he'd be so shy

✦ 08 pls lead him!! princess needs his directions on how to do it correctly :<

Aventurine had a big bathroom. Big bathtub, a lot of space, fully furnished bathroom, a complete set of bath commodities. For you, it was like a dream bathroom. And there you are, sitting on the brims of the bathtub. The water tempeture was warm and the fragrance of the soap that had been mixed with the water was devine.

The door opened, revealing Aventurine in a towel around his waist. You can hear the footsteps behind you. An indication he's coming. "The water is set, you can get it in you'd like" you played with the water just a bit.

Aventurine put a hand onto your shoulder and gave you a kiss on the cheek "Mhm sure, arent you getting in honey?"

"I am, i am.. what, you need help with your towel?"

"Is that an offer, sweetheart?"

"…forget I said anything then" he snorted and smirked hearing your retort

As soon as both of you had done removing eachother's towels, both of you get in the bath tub.

Aventurine, gets in slowly, almost like as if he was scared to break the water itself. Adorable, really. To see a man who acts so smug and so sure of himself, express nervousness when he's just taking a bath with his one and only lover. You noticed his nervous behavior and you cant help but let out a light chuckle, "Scared much, Avey?".

In which he reply "Nonsense, lovely." however to contrast his words, he stammered on his words he spoke. It's not that noticeable, so he hopes you don't notice it.

yet ofcouse you would notice it and scooch over to him closer and give him a little kiss on his shoulder and snake an arm on the back of his waist. Just a way to tease him, just a bit.

He flinched slightly by your touch and scoffed "Devil much huh? oh sorry, I meant hell spawn." you laugh, "Not my fault that handsome here is so stiff. Come on, I'll wash your hair and you wash mine"

He let you do as you please with him. It felt oddly nice to have someone taking care of him for once in a lifetime. You do it so gently with him too, now how could he not feel at least slightly emotional when only such a few people have given him comfort and almost all of them have died? And now here you are, taking care of him like he's a stray cat.

He just can't help it but say

".... I'm glad I met you, I love you, sweetheart."

Jing Yuan

✦ 01 Big cat. Very big cat.

✦ 02 Big cat flop onto the bath tub

✦ 03 Big cat will ask u to wash his hair (uncertain he would do the same tho)

✦ 04 Will sleep if u take too long to shampoo his hair.

✦ 05 Cold water can do the trick to wake him up

✦ 06 Would probably pull you in a huge hug too.

When Jing Yuan got on the bathtub, it was almost as if he hogged all the space that were available. "Hey, how come I don't get a room?" You complained. Which he replies with a lazy smirk "you can just sit on my lap?"

An awkward pause fills up the room, and the longer the pause, the more contagious the little pink blush is on your cheeks which he just cannot help himself to laugh. "Well? Would you like to, dove?" In which you just let out a whine.

Eventually, you cave in and give into his whims. It's not like there's any other way to get in the bath tub without any of his body parts being touched by you. Now here you are, sitting on top of his lap, looking like a confused cat, don't know where to leap next.

It was a sight for sore eyes. You looked cute, now he can't help but let out a playful chuckle and bring you forward to him. "Why so stiff? Is it your first time seeing me stripped? I don't think so…" Worst part, he gave you his signature little lazy smile, looking like he has no wrongdoings.

"That's… Irrelevant, just let me do your hair, baobei." Hence, he let his head down and let you untie his ponytail, and do the rest

While you were washing his hair, his eyelids suddenly felt heavy. He couldn't help it, it felt so good to have your delicate yet skillful fingers all over his scalp. It just so happens that you were doing too great of your job.

"Baobei, it's done~!" You twisted his hair and stuck it into the top of his head. "Baobei?" You called him out again. No response.

Out of suspicion, you raise his head to show his sleeping face. Ah, in all of the places in the universe.. he just had to sleep at this moment, you thought. Abruptly, you had a really… Devious plan to wake him up.

Jing Yuan really just needed to rinse the shampoo away and he'd be done. But instead of using the warm water, just use the icy cold water to wake him up. And perhaps instead of using the shower, why not just pour a bucket full of it? That's exactly what you did.

Sure, it's quite literally deceitful, but at least it gets the job done. It's hard to wake up this big general, so a bucket of cold water could do.

You took a small bucket lying around the bathroom and filled it up with cold water. Little did you know, Jing Yuan was already awake when you were done with his hair.

You swear you didn't feel the water vibrations changing, but somehow, he's already in your shoulder while you were still not done filling the bucket.

"Mmnh… What are you doing my Qīn qīn? Not trying to splash me with the cold water aren't you?"

Drat. How did he even—

"No-no… O-ofcourse not.."

"Then what is it for, hm?"

"I…" You decided to give up from the act. Goddamnit, you were so close!

"you know what? yes, I was, now.. have a taste—!" You splashed the water into his face. Yet, no response. Not even a reaction, single flinch, nothing… Literally unfazed.

"Mhm, it takes more than that to even make me flinch, baobei dear."

Sunday

✦ 01 Asking to bath with Sunday isn't really that hard... But he would reassure you if you want to do it, it's a very intimate action to bathe with one another.

✦ 02 But bathing with Sunday is like bathing with an angel in a cloud

✦ 03 He'd be so soft, delicate. As if scared to even hurt you, make a wrong move.

✦ 04 Though, as delicate as he can be, he expects you to do the same.

✦ 05 He would let you wash his wings, but be gentle with them!

✦ 06 Once again, his touch is so gentle. Like imagine him washing your face with his thumbs just circling your cheeks

"Dear, turn your head downwards for me please?" He asked. Your boyfriend, Sunday, couldn't have been more gentler. He's washing your hair and your whole body with firm yet gentle strokes. You did as he asked and turned your head downwards. "Good girl/boy..." and thus felt the warm water wash away all the foam that covered your entire frame.

"Mm... Shouldn't I be the one praising you, angel?" He let out a silent chuckle "And who's being the obedient one here, hm?" It was a somewhat convenient playful banter between the two of you. Convincing the other that they're better.

Once you're done, Sunday gave one last splash of water to your hair and scrub off any remaining shampoo or soap that still be sticking around. "There, all done." He gave a wet kiss on the forehead. Which you unintentionally let out a giggle. "Hey this isn't fair, can't I bathe you too?" You note, it was true, all this time who's getting the royalty treatment is just you. "Do you want to? If so you could do that.."

An unanticipated idea came up from your oh so brilliant head "How about I wash your wings?"

"..." He hesitated just a bit. If truth be told, he was quite... Anxious to lend you his wings. Just what if you accidentally pulled one of the feathers? "How about my.. body, dear? My hair?" He recommended

"I mean— sure.. but can I wash your wings? Pleasee?" You insisted and pleaded. You even crawled your way to his chest, he felt compelled to kiss that face of yours and hug you tight. Just how can he reject you? "Fine, fine... But be extremely gentle." He sighed.

You started on with his right wing. Once you've held it, the wing flinches by accident. You poured the soap into your hand and started caressing the tip of his wing, cleaning all the dirt or dust that was there. "Does this hurt, sunday?" Through which he denies "no, absolutely not, darling. You're doing great" and purred as you do his wings

As you did the other wing, he kept purring like a pigeon being petted. Perhaps it was to imply that he was very enjoying this.

"Enjoying this much, love?"

"Very" he cood "oh, and thank you, I love you darling.." you giggled in response as you rinse both of his wings "I love you too."

✧ XTRA : i fking gentlemenfied sunday dawg :sob: also this was vv rushed, thats why it keeps getting shorter from aven to sunday (Aven is 430 words n sunday is 400 words) but oddly enough jy is 560 words💀 cringed so bad in jy's part tho like i speedrun that shit & gonna write guitarist bf kazuha after this

[yanderenightmare]

TW: suggestive nsfw

gn reader

Thinking about how you and your delinquent childhood friend couldn’t be any more different...

And yet you never seem to grow apart…

You’re fresh out of the shower, feeling toasty with a fluffy towel wrapped around your hair – another around your body.

You’re ready to lie down in bed and enjoy the rest of your Saturday night with a cup of tea while catching up with the new releases of that show you’ve been meaning to watch before the spoilers reach you.

The clock ticks about midnight, but it doesn’t really matter because you have the entire Sunday morning to sleep in – so you take your time, letting your chamomile soak before adding honey and a teaspoon of vanilla.

Your feet prickle against the shoddy floorboards – faux wood doesn’t carry heat very well, and the cold is beginning to seep through your soles post-shower – so you walk off to find your slippers. 

But just as you’ve slipped them on, there’s a loud banging on your door. 

“Oi! Open up!”

There’s no mistaking who it is. 

You sigh.

“Go away, you’re drunk…”

There was a party tonight. But you didn’t go. 

Though, you bet the boy on the other side of the door had gone and gotten kicked out and has now washed up here – right on your welcome mat.

He doesn’t relent, now kicking the door as well as banging his fist into it.

The pictures on the wall rattle from the force. 

“Open the fuckin’ door," He's whining now. "Or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow the whole street to hell!”

You curse under your breath at the sound of him howling, shuffling over to the drunken mood swings, then unlocking the three locks to let him in. Hissing beneath your breath as though the damage isn’t already done, “Shut up, you’re waking the entire block-”

He ignores you, grumbling, “Fuckin’ finally, ‘m freezin’ my balls off out’ere,” while pushing himself inside even when your plan was to tell him to piss off.

“I’m really tired,” You sigh, but he’s not really listening – fully ignoring you with a groggy grin as he looks down at you with lazy eyes and slurred words.

“Tch- look at yah – all wrapped up – lookin’ like a pastry.”

“Wah!” You yelp when he grabs you – lifting you up around his torso while stumbling forward to your bed – crashing down on the mattress with a content murmur – his face cradled in your chest.

“Just what I need right now…”

A little panicked – wearing but a towel you felt slipping from the fall – you try nudging him off, but he has his entire weight on top of you – soaking into your warm skin after having stood out in the chilly night air with nothing but a lousy shirt on.

You jolt with a squeal when he puts his freezing hands beneath your towel – squeezing into the soft, warm flesh of your thighs.

“Mh- you’re warm~” He rumbles in a drawl, traveling higher despite your whine. “Come on- don’t be stingy- m'gonna catch'a cold-”

You realize there’s not much you can do but accept it. 

You huff, gritting your teeth. “Fine, you can stay.”

To which he just chuckles, placing his chin in the dip of your ribs while looking up at you with a sly grin. “You’re such a sucker.”

You frown, grimacing at the words wafting into your face. 

“Ugh- you’re breath reeks. Go brush your teeth, at least. And take off your shoes.”

He pouts at your strictness, releasing a long, drawn-out sigh like a child. 

But ultimately, he drags himself up. 

“Mh-kay…” He kicks off his shoes, lets his pants drop into a heap, and wrings off his shirt on his way to the bathroom – calling back over his shoulder before he disappears into the room. “But we’re fucking after.” 

You’re cheeks warm at his casualness.

You hear him flip the tap.

You purse your lips while sinking your teeth into the lower one. Smacking them at yourself.

You rubbed your hair dry and your thighs together until the sound of running water was interrupted by his toothbrush clinking against the sink – signaling he was done.

You were also ready and waiting by the time he walked out – your original plans for the evening already long lost in the heat. 

But waddling back, he flops right onto the bed, like deadweight – on his stomach, snoring almost just as quickly with drool dribbling down into a blotch on your pillow.

He’s fast asleep.

You gape. Blinking at him. And after realizing it wasn’t a joke, you scoff. “Hello?”

There’s no reply.

You close your mouth and raise your brows. Then sigh with your entire body while shaking your head.

You drape him with the duvet and scooch in beside him. A bit of a frown on your face as you look at him.

There’s toothpaste on his cheek. 

You wipe it away with a wet thumb.

“Dumbass.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Toji

AOT – Eren

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 29] First Day of School

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

*Making a very important poll soon (aka in a few minutes)❤️

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Does this look okay?” Ren walks into your room with the cutest outfit imaginable. Today is the day: his first day of kindergarten. You’re nearly in tears every time you look at him, not being able to believe that your baby boy is ready to go to school. He’s so excited for it, and you don’t want to shatter it by crying 

“You look so handsome, baby. Go show your daddy.” You tell him, knowing that Satoru is downstairs trying to make Ren’s bento box perfect. You need a moment to let yourself cry and compose yourself before you drop him off. He’s just a baby, why do you have to send him to school?

Ren nods in response, and walks out of your room to go to where his father is. You take a deep breath, trying to contain yourself. It’s his first day of school, you’re not sending him off to war. It’s just hard to accept that your child is growing up so fast.

The baby that you were just carrying in your arms is going to school. You have to gather yourself, you can’t be a mess in front of Ren who is already scared of what awaits him. Satoru is going to comfort him while you figure something out.

“Hey, buddy. Are you ready?” The biggest smile comes to Satoru’s lips as he sees his son walk towards him. Satoru tries to finish the special lunch that he’s been set on making for Ren, before his son gets to him.

“I am. Waiting for mommy.” Ren answers, and it tugs Satoru’s heart. For how much longer is Ren going to call you mommy? When will it just be mom? Satoru takes a deep breath, he knew that spending too much time with you meant that your sadness would become infectious. 

“What do you want for breakfast? Cereal?” Satoru asks, and Ren nods in response. He doesn’t really care to have a more intricate breakfast, he’s not that hungry this early. 

“Will school always be this early?” Ren questions, walking over to the informal dining table that’s in the kitchen. Satoru chuckles, knowing that it gets worse from here– At least kindergarten isn’t too bad.

“It’ll always be at the same time.” Satoru answers, and he sees the frown that appears on Ren’s face. That just ruined everything for the little boy, and Satoru can’t blame him. “But hey, if you cooperate I’ll let you sleep in on Saturday and Sunday.”

“Really?” A hopeful spark appears in Ren’s eyes, and Satoru almost feels bad. He’ll do whatever will work.

“Yes sir.” Satoru smirks. Ren loves the deal, therefore he’ll cooperate as much as he has to. Satoru has this whole parenting thing under wraps. He walks over to Ren, putting the bowl of cereal in front of Ren, “Eat up, honey. You have a long day ahead of you.”

“Okay, I’m ready!” You announce, walking into the kitchen to find Satoru and Ren sitting together. Tears well up in your eyes as you see the pair and you hold your breath, 

“Actually, give me a minute.”

“Can you replay the song?” Ren asks, and Satoru wastes no time in starting the song over again and turning it up to max volume. Anything to drown out the sniffles that come from you. You’re almost at the school, you need to gather yourself. Ren can’t see you crying like this.

“Baby shark is not that sad for you to be reacting like this.”  Satoru tries to joke, which only makes you sob. He’d love to join you in the crying, but someone has to be strong for Ren. “You must really hate the song.”

“Shut up.” You tell him in complete tears. He’s trying to cheer you up but nothing is working today. You have to soothe yourself. Your son is going to be fine.

“We’re almost at the school.” Satoru announces, and Ren looks outside the car excitedly. Satoru’s word of mouth worked, and the child is more than excited to go to school. Though Satoru’s announcement is more for you, his way of telling you to gather yourself. 

“Replay the song!” Ren yells, and Satoru does as the child asks. Ren will be getting out of the car soon enough so Satoru doesn’t mind listening to the song a couple more times. 

“He’s going to be fine.” Satoru tells you, knowing that Ren is too busy listening to his song to hear what Satoru has to say.

“He’s growing up too fast.” You say, and Satoru pouts. Bringing that up makes him want to cry too but he can’t. Satoru’s already missed so much, and he’s going to miss more. But it’s fine. Ren is going to be fine, and he’s excited to go to school. 

“We’re here.” Satoru turns off the radio, handing you his handkerchief so you can clean your face. You have to control yourself for at least ten minutes, then you can cry all you want. Ren takes off his seatbelt before his face presses against the car window, looking at the surroundings. 

“It’s big.” Ren comments which earns a chuckle from the both of you. Your house is almost as big, you have no idea why he’s shocked. You take one final deep breath before opening your car door. You can hold back the tears. 

“Alright, let’s go. We’re going to be late.” You say, and Satoru fights back a smile. At least you’re putting up a strong fort.  

You get Ren out of the car, and before you begin the walk to the entrance, you take a couple of photos of the child. You’re finally able to do it without crying, so you take as much as you can. Ren with a backpack nearly twice his size and a lunchbox as big as him. He’s a Gojo, he’ll be your height in no time. 

“Were you crying?” Ren looks up at you, seeing how your eyes look puffy. The question makes you want to burst into tears again. 

“Why would I be?” You furrow your brows, trying to play it off. That’s good enough to deter Ren from questioning it any further. Ren takes your hand, and you squeeze it. “Are you excited, baby? It’s a very big day.”

“I am.” Ren smiles at you, and you melt. He’s going to have so much fun and learn new things, you shouldn’t worry. 

“Stop!” Satoru nearly yells when you’re at the entrance. You both look back at him, confused why he suddenly yells. “Let me take a picture of the two of you.”

“You don’t have to yell like a maniac next time you want a picture.” You tell him, getting ready for a picture with Ren as Satoru takes his phone out. You signal Ren to come closer, and once he’s close enough, you both smile at Satoru’s phone. 

“And for the record, I didn’t yell like a maniac.” Satoru says after he takes enough pictures of the two of you. You think you’re done, but he hands the phone to you. He wants you to do the same for him and Ren, which you have no issue doing. You might be a little late but who cares? The first day of kindergarten isn’t that big of a deal. 

“Alright you two, say cheese.” You can’t help but smile as you see your two boys share the same smile as they look at the camera. You hurry up, seeing that Ren is growing sick of taking photos. You don’t take as many pictures as Satoru did, but it’s good enough, he doesn’t need fifty variations of the same picture. 

“Alright, let’s go.” You hand the phone back to Satoru, before you open the door to the school. You’ll admit, it’s nice knowing that you won’t be stuck within the halls this time around… You do feel slightly bad for your son, but he’ll for sure enjoy it the first years. 

“Do you need help with your backpack, buddy?” Satoru asks, seeing how the end of the backpack hits the child’s calves.

“I can handle it!” Ren claims, immediately getting defensive. He’s in a space with kids his age, he has to look like a big boy. Satoru chuckles, claiming,

“I won’t take it from you, no need to answer like that.” 

You begin to get nervous as you approach the classroom. Leaving your baby alone in a classroom full of kids with a woman that you barely know is nerve wracking to say the least. Satoru looks fine, you should be more than fine as well.

“This is the classroom.” Satoru announces when you nearly walk past it. The teacher waits outside with the door open and a warm welcoming smile on her face. This is it. Satoru takes over, telling his son,  “Alright, Ren. Greet your teacher and go inside.”

“How about a goodbye first?” You say, glaring back at Satoru for sending off your child without even getting a proper farewell. Ren waves at the two of you before walking into his classroom as if you didn’t matter. You stick out your bottom lip as you look at Satoru, “He’s a big boy now.”

“Let’s get out of here before the waterworks begin.” Satoru throws his arm over your shoulder and tries to guide you outside, awkwardly waving at Ren’s teacher. He’d stick around and talk to her some more (though the emails and meet-the-teacher night should be more than enough), but he has to make sure that you don’t begin to cry outside of the classroom. 

“He doesn’t even want to say goodbye to his mommy, what have we done?” You let out a cry, and Satoru tries his best to calm you down. Teachers are outside, waiting for their respective students, he doesn’t need them staring at you. 

“How about I take you to breakfast?” Satoru asks, hoping that it’ll take your mind off crying. Truthfully, he might begin to cry too. “Heard there’s a good place around here, won’t you like to try it?”

“I’m not hungry.” You answer, your appetite completely gone from the lack of reaction from your son. Like father like son or whatever they say. 

“A beautiful face like yours has to eat, c’mon.” Satoru insists, and you sigh. Your stomach growls, giving it away. You’re hungry and you can’t deny it, but you don’t want to eat. Satoru hears it, but he knows you won’t change your mind that easily. “Fine, but I’m still stopping to get something for myself.”

“Yeah, whatever. Take me to get breakfast.” You roll your eyes. His plan has succeeded, right now you’re not crying because Ren entered his classroom without giving you a hug. 

“It’s a date.” He says, which earns a weird look from you. It makes him feel nervous, and he scratches the back of his neck before asking, “Is it a date?”

“It’s…” You begin but you stop yourself. You’re not sure. Do you want to give him that slight bit of hope that you can get back together? 

You clear your throat before telling him, “I’ll decide after.”

[021reid]

Please ? | Spencer Reid

summary: reader wants spencer to take her virginity.

CW: inexperienced!reader , shy-ish reader , reader gets came on , 18+ (if i’m missing anything lmk)

word count: 860 words

you and spencer have been dating for 4 months now. the last four months have been filled with date nights every sunday (when he wasn’t away) and endless flirting and teasing no matter what was happening around you guys.

but you were craving more.

you and spencer have had heated makeouts and even a little dry humping every now and then but nothing ever came out of it.

so now here you were sitting on spencer’s bed with a nervous look on your face.

“spence..can we talk?” you start regretting your words when you see him sit up with a look of concern and fear on his face.

“did i do something wrong honey?” it’s almost as if you can hear the gears shifting in his mind and you quickly shake your head to make them shut up.

“no i just…why won’t you have sex with me?” you notice the deep breath he takes and relief in his eyes.

“are you ready for sex?” it was no secret to spencer that you were inexperienced and you probably would run away if he even tried to unbutton your pants.

“i think? i don’t know i’m just really horny and i can’t keep cumming from just your thighs.” a smile appears on his face and he grabs your waist sitting you on his lap and whispering in your ear.

“well how about we fix that then baby?” you hold back a whimper and pull him in for a kiss, slowly moving back and fourth on his lap.

“can i take these off?” he puts a finger on the waistband of your shorts and you nod your head. he unbuttons your pants and slides them off you with a little of your help.

he can’t tear his eyes away from your white lacy panties with small bows on the sides.

“you’re so beautiful baby” he rubs your cunt through your panties and you swear you could cum from just that alone.

“fuck..spence i need more.” you kiss him again this time tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. you move down to his pants and unbutton them, pausing when you feel his print.

spencer slides down his pants more and takes out his cock.

your jaw dropped.

he had to be atleast 8 and a half inches and you were even debating that.

“can that fit in me?” you say still shocked and stunned by his size.

“we can make it fit honey.” he tugs at your shirt and you shake your head. your not ready to be fully naked yet and he understands.

“lay down for me baby.” you move to the other side of his bed and rest your head on the nearest pillow. he kisses your thighs and makes his way up to your cunt, kissing all around it only making you grow wetter and wetter.

“please spence i can’t wait anymore.” he laughs at your eagerness and pulls down your panties. he stares at you in awe which makes you close your legs and push him slightly.

“stop staring at me like that..” he kisses your cheek and pulls your panties off.

“you’re so pretty sweetheart. every part of you.” he rubs your heat and you moan with every movement. he inserts his pointer finger and curls it which causes you to moan and arch your back.

“fuck..put another one in please.” he inserts his middle finger and waits for you to calm down before he starts moving them both at a slow pace. you’re a moaning mess and you’ve never wanted to come so bad.

“fuck if you keep doing that i’m gonna cum.” he laughs and takes out his fingers which causes you to pout.

“i don’t want you to come yet baby” he reaches over for a condom and puts it on.

“tell me if you wanna stop okay baby?” you nod and moan when you feel him rub his tip over your heat.

“fuck please just put it in.” he slowly inserts every inch into you moaning between each inch just from how warm your heat is. all that fills the room is your heavy breathing.

once he bottoms out he starts to move slowly. you moan with every thrust and your hands find their way to his long curly hair slightly tugging at it.

“go faster please, i can handle it.” his movements speed up and you can feel your orgasm approaching. the sounds of his quiet whimpers and your skin slapping against eachother becomes louder with every thrust.

“i’m so close y/n” his legs start to shake under you and his movements get faster causing you to let out a loud moan and your back to arch off the bed as your orgasm hits you.

not long after you feel spencer’s cock twitch inside you and his movements start to slow.

you both sit there for about 10 minutes trying to catch your breath.

“that was really good” you say, slurring your words. he smiles and pulls out of you slowly, handing you a bottle of water from the nightstand.

“i love you so much y/n.” he pampers your face in kisses and you both giggle until you both fall asleep, happy and inlove.

i’m not good at writing smut so tell me how it is 🌚 don’t forget to check out my masterlist !

[starmocha]

I For You [Zayne/Reader ★ 3372 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Lazy morning with Zayne. A/N: I love my sweetie darling honey baby snookums-pookie Zayne so much. Happy birthday to our precious doctor who deserves the whole universe and more. 🥹❤️

You awoke from your deep sleep, feeling the bed shifting with the sudden added weight. You looked up groggily, bleary eyes attempting to adjust to the dark bedroom.

“Go back to sleep,” you heard Zayne’s soft voice murmuring, the familiar and comforting crisp scents of his shampoo and body wash wafted in the air. It smelled like mint. Your sleep-addled brain started connecting the dots, realizing Zayne must have just gotten home from the hospital not too long ago. You started to wake up more fully once it finally clicked in your head that Zayne was finally home after finishing the recent grueling schedule for the week.

“You’re home,” you said, getting up and kneeling on the bed as you watched him settled in next to you. Your heart skipped a beat when he leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, apologizing quietly for disturbing your sleep. You shook your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m glad you woke me up.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said again, chuckling softly as his own arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you down to lay next to him. He pressed his lips to your forehead. “It’s still dark out. Go back to sleep, darling.”

You peeked over at the clock on his nightstand and noticed it was almost six in the morning. “You sleep,” you told him, “I’ve rested enough. I can go do some chores while you sleep.”

As the last word left your mouth, Zayne tightened his hold around you, pulling you closer to his body to prevent you from leaving. You whined a little when his sudden action caused your slip dress to rise up above your thighs, but Zayne didn’t seem to care, his hold on you unyielding even as you attempted to fix your dress. He quieted you with a gentle kiss to your head. “It’s Sunday,” he said, “The chores can wait.”

Zayne yawned, his eyes looking heavier. He nuzzled his cheek against your hair. “Stay with me,” he murmured drowsily.

You gave in to Zayne’s insistence, staying until he fell asleep, which didn’t actually take long. He had pushed his body to the extreme, prioritizing others over himself without a thought or any hesitation. Now that he finally had a quiet moment to himself, to finally lay down to rest, his body gave in helplessly to the exhaustion from a week of overwork. On top of that, with your soft body and comforting warmth next to him, Zayne had drifted off to a deep sleep sooner than expected.

You peered up curiously, examining his sleeping face. This was your chance.

When you tried to leave, however, Zayne unconsciously tightened his hold, keeping your body pressed firmly against his. You sighed with a smile. You nuzzled your cheek against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his sleepshirt and his warm embrace comforting you as well.

You listened to his soft breathing as he slept, but you yourself was now more awake and alert than before. Sleep was not coming back to claim you, but you were fine with that. You had already planned beforehand that today you would spend the morning tidying the house and doing some chores while Zayne rested. You had even planned out all the meals you would prepare for him on his rare day off.

You cracked a smile, already giddy over what you had planned for breakfast. Before you could enact your plan, though, you needed to find a way to leave Zayne’s iron embrace, which in all honesty, was not the worst problem to have crossed your path. Any other day, you would have welcomed this situation, but today you were set on your plan to pamper and spoil Zayne. You stayed with him an extra fifteen minutes, feeling his hold on you loosening as he fell into a deeper slumber.

You could hear Zayne softly snoring. You lightly poked his cheek. He remained asleep. You smiled.

Taking this chance, you carefully pried yourself from his embrace and stealthily rolled out of bed. You landed on your feet lightly, but you still froze in place, keeping your eyes glued on him to make sure he was still asleep. Zayne answered you with his light snores and you breathed out in relief. You snuck out of the room and freshened up in the guest bathroom before you began tackling your self-imposed list of chores.

For the next two hours, you had straightened out the living room, tidied Zayne’s work desk, and started on a load of neglected laundry. By eight, the sun had already risen and you opened the living room curtain to let the warm sunshine into Zayne’s monochromatic home.

You smiled. Now onto your favorite part of the to-do list: making breakfast.

You hummed happily to yourself as you made your way into the kitchen and gathered all of the necessary ingredients to make French toasts. A sweet breakfast for the sweetest man in your life.

You beaten a couple of eggs with milk, adding a generous helping of sugar, a pinch of salt, a drizzle of vanilla, and a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg. The warm scent of the spices already found their way to your nose, filling you with joy as you placed some thick-cut day-old brioche bread into the egg custard. You made sure the bread soaked up as much of the custard as possible before transferring it to a hot pan with melted butter. The light sizzles filled the air with the rich buttery scent, making your stomach rumbled in anticipation. You vaguely wondered if Zayne could smell the food you were making for him.

Once fully browned on both sides, you transferred two toasts over to a plate, placing one flat while the second leaned on the bottom toast at an angle. Satisfied with the position, you continued your plating, adding a pat of cold butter on the warm toast. You scattered an assortment of different brightly-colored berries all over the plate and finished with a generous dusting of powdered sugar.

You brought the finished plate over to a bamboo tray, adding alongside it a mug of freshly-brewed coffee and a glass of orange juice. You also placed a bottle of maple syrup on the tray, well certain that your sweet-toothed boyfriend would enjoy adding more sweetness to his liking.

You practically skipped to Zayne’s bedroom with the tray of food, excited to see his reaction. As you nudged the semi-closed bedroom door open with your hip, you could see Zayne was starting to stir.

Zayne’s arm reached over to your side of the bed, feeling only the empty space. His eyes were still closed, but you could see the frustrated creases on his face. He started to wake up, opening his eyes slowly. He frowned when his eyes registered the empty space next to him.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, placing the tray on the nightstand. Zayne turned over to look at you and the food in surprise.

“You did this?”

You sat down on the edge of the bed as Zayne sat up, leaning back against the headboard. You reached up and touched his cheek. “Today I am spoiling you,” you told him, smiling as his eyes seemed to widen even further in surprise.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he told you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You noticed his eyes reflected differently from what he had said. You could see the depths of gratitude and adoration in his gorgeous green eyes and it made you feel tickled pink, pleased that you could bring him this small amount of joy.

“I know,” you answered, “But I wanted to. You deserve to be pampered.”

You almost giggled when you noticed the faintest red on his ears.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, leaning down and capturing your lips, surprising you momentarily before you responded, deepening the kiss further. You gasped in surprise when he pulled you back into bed, keeping you close to his body. You looked up curiously, meeting his cool, calm gaze.

“Zayne—y-your breakfast…” your brain was malfunctioning as you locked eyes with him, feeling his right hand skimming down your body.

He wore the faintest smirk on his face as he pulled you to him with your back pressed to his chest. You gasped again as his hand reached down under your nightgown, searching for your intimate area. You covered your mouth to suppress a cry when he slipped his hand into your panties, fingers already feeling you.

“I’ll enjoy breakfast later,” he promised, kissing your cheek, “Right now…I just want to enjoy you, darling.”

With his other free hand, he pried your hand away from your mouth, chiding you gently, “I want to listen to your pretty voice.” Before you could even voice your protest, Zayne was already tugging your panties down. He slipped his fingers in pass your lips, smiling when you immediately bucked against his hand with a startled moan. “Want to hear you make these sweet sounds for me—because of me…”

You clenched around his fingers with a moan, your face pressed into the pillow. “Oh, Zayne…”

“Yes, darling?”

You gripped the pillow helplessly, needing something to hold onto as Zayne pulled you firmly to him. Your cheeks rosy, expression becoming more and more aroused as you could feel his cock hardening against your ass while he worked his fingers in and out of you, his thumb finding your clit to circle and tease, drawing out more of the sweet noises he desired from you.

“Zayne—your fingers!” You unconsciously thrusted into his hand, needing more of him, more of this sweet pleasure he was giving you.

“Hmm?” Zayne looked down at you with a smirk, enjoying the sight of his beloved coming undone by him. His face leaned closer to your ear, his husky whisper made you trembled, made you feel an ache in the pit of your belly. “Do you feel good, darling?”

“Y—yes!”

“Good,” he murmured, “I want you to feel good.”

He kissed your neck deeply, his lips lingering, the warmth of his breath and the words he spoke making you shivered with desire. “You’re always so good to me, so I want you to feel the same.”

His pacing increased, expert fingers already knowing where you’re most sensitive, where just the slightest touch could have you arching up, shamelessly thrusting into his hand for your release.

“Ah, Zayne, don’t—I’m going to cum!” You held onto the pillow tighter, nails already snagging along the fabric of the pillowcase. You buried your face into the pillow, gasping and whimpering, voice growing a pitch higher as you felt that oncoming tightening in your core.

“Go ahead,” he whispered, his voice still soft and gentle while yours was frantic and pleading. “I want you to cum, want you to cum all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

“Ohh…Zayne…” You writhed against him, desperate to hear more of him—feel more of him.

“You are a good girl, aren’t you, darling?”

“Ye—yes!”

“My good girl?”

“Yes, yes, Zayne! Yours! Always yours! Ahh—” You cried and sobbed into the pillow, eyes squeezed tightly shut, your only thought was the feeling of your climax, the feeling of Zayne’s fingers still inside you, still easing you back down from your high. You could hear Zayne hissed quietly as you clenched tightly around his fingers, coating them with your release. When he had finally withdrew his fingers, you barely registered it, barely registered that he had also turned you so could lay on your back. Seconds passed before you finally opened your eyes again. Immediately, you felt a tight coil in your belly, your cheeks burning hot as you watched him licked and sucked his fingers clean of you.

He smiled.

“Z-Zayne…” your voice was feeble—whether it was weakened from your pleasurable cries just moments ago, from watching him sucked your juice off his fingers so deliciously, or just the way he smiled at you with so much affections, you weren’t sure anymore.

You sighed happily when his hand caressed your cheek, his face leaning in close. His breath was so warm against your lips as he spoke softly, “Are you still going to spoil me today?”

You nodded immediately despite not knowing his intentions with his question. When you realized what he had meant, your eyes widened in shock as he immediately had you spread out in front of him, his hardened cock already free from its confine and resting heavily in his hand as he leisurely stroked himself.

“N-no, Zayne! I’m not ready!”

“You’re still so wet,” he murmured, guiding himself to your entrance, pleased when you let out a whimper at feeling just the tip pressing into you. He husked lowly, “I think you’re plenty ready for me, darling.”

You leaned back, fingers already digging into the bedsheets as more and more of him entered. You whined softly and pleaded with him.

“Shh, I’ll be gentle, let you get used to me…”

Your hips bucked against him, your body still overly sensitive from your recent climax just mere moments ago. You let out a shaky gasp as you took him in, feeling every glorious inch of him stretching and filling your sensitive pussy. You panted, moaning weakly, “Ohhh, Zayne, it’s too much…Ah-ahh…!”

He kissed your forehead, reassuring you gently, “You can take me, you always do.” His soft voice wrapped around you, filling you with warmth and comfort. He smiled as he could feel you relaxing as he fully penetrated you, bottoming out with a low moan. He claimed your lips, greedily and shamelessly stealing several kisses from you. “You’re so good to me, aren’t you, darling?”

You nodded instinctively, your lust-hazed mind unable to fully think of anything other than Zayne and the feel of him buried so deep inside you. You moaned as he pulled out and then thrusted back in, his rhythm was slow, deliberate, his intent was to have you savor the feel of him, to draw out your time together.

The way you kept saying his name, kept pleading and moaning for him—because of him—made his chest tightened. In this whole wide world, in this lifetime and the next, he wanted no one else but you, and to be wanted in the same way by you, he knew he was blessed to have this love all to himself.

“Let’s take our time, darling,” he murmured, his large hand finding yours, fingers intertwining as he pressed both your hands deeper into the mattress. His forehead rested against yours, his heavy body close to yours—everything of his, yours. When he spoke, you could feel his warm breath caressing your lips again, “I just want to be with you…feel you like this…”

“Mmmm…Zayne…”

His lips seized yours, swallowing all of your words and sounds for himself. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly when your legs hooked around his waist, pulling him in deeper. Zayne was willing to be selfless in all other aspects of his life, but when it came to you, he wanted everything of yours to be his and his alone. It seemed only you could make him behave so selfishly, to rebel so willingly, to fall so helplessly—only you. For you.

“Darling…”

You welcomed the long, slow kisses, his languid, fluid movements, the feel of his body covering yours, taking you for himself as if you were the most prized treasure in the world. His soft murmurs of love and praises were so intoxicating, almost hypnotizing, even, like you were falling under his spell. It was almost like he wanted to make you forget all others, forget the world outside this room, and let your thoughts be consumed with only him.

“Feels so good…so good to me…” his lazy words tumbled freely out of his mouth as he branded your neck and shoulder with his kisses. He had let go of your hand, bringing his to cup your face. He caressed your cheek gently, watching as you gazed up at him with rosy cheeks and mouth parting with soft pants and gasps as you took in his slow thrusts. You held your eyes with his, both reflecting different sentiments.

He smirked a little, seeing the conflict in your eyes from wanting to enjoy this slow tender moment a little longer to needing him to fuck you harder and make a mess of you. “You’re so pretty like this, darling,” he said, bringing his hands down to grip your hips. His calloused hands held you firmly while he pulled out and then slammed back into you harder than before, surprising you into crying out his name.

Zayne’s heavy panting rang in your ears, mixing with your own needy moans as you felt his movements becoming faster, rougher. You met his thrusts, the sudden shift in pacing broke the restraints you both held earlier. When he leaned down closer, your arms encircled around his neck, gasping as he lifted you higher off the bed, your legs locked tightly around his waist. You cried into the crook of his neck, feeling all of him penetrating you so deeply over and over and over again.

“Yes…yes…yes…oh, god, Zayne…!”

“Getting so tight,” he grunted, holding you closer to him, pounding into you quicker, his own release was also near. Your nails scraped along his back, urging him more and more. His soft curses got lost amidst your pleading cries.

“Please…I’m gonna…ahh…I’m gonna cum again…Za—”

You cried into his shoulder, nails digging into his back, scratching and clawing as you held on helplessly while he continued to plumbed into you, taking you past the point of no return as he was desperate for his own approaching release.

Your back hit the soft mattress, his body heavy on yours, lips and tongue and teeth marking you up, hands fumbling along your body, feeling all that was his as he rocked into you, rammed into you, chasing after his release. You moaned when he pushed your nightgown up above your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, groaning deeply when your fingers tangled into his soft hair, tugging at him, too overwhelmed and stimulated to even register your own actions.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more of his sudden aggressive treatment, he stilled and emptied into you hot and fast. Your eyes closed, lost in the feeling of him filling you so wonderfully, his seed spilling out of you, dripping down your thighs.

Your head felt clouded, lost amidst the residual lust-filled haze. You could still hear Zayne’s soft panting, feel him softening inside you, feel the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm. You whimpered when you felt him pulling out, felt him laying down heavy next to you, dragging you back into his arms.

The warm sunlight filtered in through a crack in the curtain. Distantly, you heard birds chirping, a passing car, idle chatters of walkers and dogs barking. Zayne’s gentle voice instantly cut through, drowning out the other noises as he brought your attention back to the present—back to him.

You opened your eyes, seeing the beautiful green and yellow in his eyes gazing back at you so sweetly, so lovely. “Thank you,” Zayne said, soft, gentle lips brushed against yours, “Thank you…for loving me.”

Your heart skipped several beats. You wanted to echo the same words back to him, wanted him to know your feelings mirrored his, but a strong wave of exhaustion hit you suddenly, your body completely drained of energy to fight back. You could feel sleep was coming back to claim you soon. You could barely keep your heavy eyes open.

Wrapped in his arms, secured in his warmth, you mumbled sleepily against his chest, “Your breakfast is cold…”

He chuckled, amused by your silly innocuous thought. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head, his arms holding you firmly to him, his hand rubbing soothing circles along your back to lull you to sleep faster. “Trust me, darling, my appetite has been satisfied…”

[pyract0]

Random thoughts with hsr men: Parental edition

☪Includes: Jing yuan, Blade, Sunday, Boothill, Dr Ratio ☪No defined pronouns/ anatomy specifics for reader, adoptive children (specified to each character), mention of loss of loved ones. ☪Extra note: Accepting requests! Wanting to get back into writing but I tend to struggle thinking of new ideas- tend to lean towards certain characters that I have a better understanding of their personality but open to anything! ♡

-`♡´-Jing yuan who names your adoptive daughter Mimi after his beloved companion . -`♡´-Jing yuan who juggles being a father and a father figure between your sweet girl and Yanqing. -`♡´-Jing yuan who goes out of his way to include the boy under his guidance into your little family, with you both treating him as you would your own child. -`♡´-Jing yuan who brings your daughter with him anywhere he can, making sure she's treated with more respect than anyone on the Lufou. -`♡´-Jing yuan who shows off his daughter to all his closest friends, with Fu xuan having a soft spot towards the little girl, not that she'd willingly admit to it. -`♡´-Jing yuan who's nickname for your toddler is "snowy" to match her name and it's origins.

♱✮♱ Blade who often forgets about your son, leaving him under the care of silverwolf when you're both busy with missions. ♱✮♱ Blade who spends most of the time just sitting near the child, making sure he causes no trouble with minimal interference. ♱✮♱ Blade who despite how he portrays himself, cares for the toddler beyond belief, willing to draw his blade at any malicious attempt directed towards the young child. ♱✮♱ Blade who would lay with your child for hours at a time, letting him sleep without disturbance while he contemplates life. ♱✮♱ Blade who has part of him that wishes you both would have entered his life earlier, before the mara took root in his body and not being cursed with immortality, inevitably knowing he'd lose you both one day. ♱✮♱ Blade who nicknames your boy "gremlin", often using it more than his actual name

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who heavily relies on Robin for help with your daughter when he's unavailable as head of the family. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who spends all his free time that he can with the both of you, walking around the dreamscape or relaxing together in your shared home. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who has learnt to be careful around the little girl, having had his wings locked in her iron grasp on multiple occasions, needing to wait for you to pry her hands open. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who holds your daughter in his arms as she dozes off after a long day, taking a moment to let himself rest while you preen his scuffed up feathers. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who let's your daughter hang off him, adding hair clip after hair clip to his now mangled grey hair. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who often calls your small toddler "angel", though he begins to question how fitting it is with her mischievous habits.

• ➵ ✩ Boothill who dedicates his whole being to protecting your daughter, unwilling to even consider the possibility of losing another one of his babies. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who talks about his little girl to your toddler, including her in your family even if it's only in spirit, always mentioning his two baby girls when family discussions occur. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who accidently teaches your child his censored version of any and every curse word in his vocabulary, panicking when she runs up to you shouting them. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who never takes his family time for granted, spending as much time playing with your child and showering you with affection before he's sent on a new mission after another target. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who was stuck digging pieces of crayon that melted together after your daughter shoved them in the holes of his metal plating when he was asleep, having little help from you who couldn't contain your laughter. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who often just calls your little girl sweetheart or honey, finding the simplicity more endearing.

・✎・Dr Ratio who despite his blunt personality, manages to be a good father to your son, with you both providing what you can for the young child. ・✎・Dr Ratio who sometimes forgets the mental capacity of a younger being, trying to teach him how to play chess so he has a partner for the game. ・✎・Dr Ratio who occasionally brings your sons to lectures, finding amusement in the child laughing when he insults one of his students. ・✎・Dr Ratio who maintains your child a safe distance from anything he deems could harm him, including his colleagues at work, especially a certain gambler who just adores the boy. ・✎・Dr Ratio who spends any free moment at home with the both of you, helping you around the house and being present whenever your child calls for him. ・✎・Dr Ratio who prides himself in his sons intelligence, calling him his "little genius" even if he's currently a little behind.

[blog-o-meter]

Room On Fire - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: With a few extra days left for holiday break before having to return to set, Nicholas holds up his end of the deal and decides to visit (Y/N) before the new year to get to know her family. (Y/N) is excited but nervous to have him over, and of course, things don’t go as planned.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, fingering, blowjob, shower sex, recording, public sex

required listening: Rooms On Fire by Stevie Nicks

word count: 42,987

a/n: oh my god guys 42k words CRYING EMOJI!! ok so since this one is so long, I might take a short break from the room series until I can figure out where the story might be going next and maybe focus my efforts on shorter, isolated fics. pls pls PLEASE let me know what you liked/didn't like, as it'll help me with improving my writing!! and if you'd like, send requests/ideas to my ask!! I'll definitely need the help to get out of the 'room' box I put myself in. Again, you don’t need to read the other parts, each part could be enjoyed individually!

Room 5 (Part 1) | Making Room (Part 2) | Room To Breathe (Part 4)

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

It arrived — the day that I had been both anticipating and dreading since Nicholas had first mentioned it in passing; it was the day he would visit me and meet my family for the first time. I had imagined the moment a hundred different ways, rehearsing possible conversations and preparing myself for every conceivable reaction. Still, nothing could quiet the tiny knot of anxiety in my chest as I cleaned the house, preparing for his arrival.

Desperate to keep my family away from him, I first tried to subtly hint to him that a hotel would be the best place for him to stay, as it would give us more privacy, and for a moment, I had him convinced. I told him we could be as loud as we wanted, neither of us had to be on edge the entire time, and there was room service! However, my mom came into my room without knocking, like always, her feather duster in hand.

I immediately tensed up at her presence, turning my laptop screen slightly away from her and leaning over the camera. “Mom, I’m on call with Nic,” I whispered to her.

She swatted her hand lightly, dismissing my hint for privacy, “It’s ok, honey. You continue; I’m just dusting,” she smiled politely, though I knew it was anything but polite. Mischievous, more like.

I didn’t want to hang up on Nicholas, knowing he only had just a few minutes before he had to get back to work and I wouldn’t have another chance to talk to him until the day after, so reluctantly, I continued our FaceTime call with my mom in the room. Though, perhaps, I should’ve known better.

“What day would your flight be?” I asked him, bringing my leg up onto the seat of the chair and resting my chin on my knee, keeping an eye on my mother as she shifted the stuff on top of my dresser around.

I watched as he pulled the camera goofily close to his face as he tapped away on his phone to read the airline webpage, earning a soft giggle out of me. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips as he realized his camera was on his forehead, “There’s one on a Sunday,” he spoke as he pulled his phone away so I could admire his entire face, leaning back into the couch in his trailer.

He had an endearing grin, an amusing contrast from the pristine business suit and fake blood splattered all over his face for the new American Psycho movie he starred in. He looked absolutely hot.

His grin lingered for a moment, but I couldn’t help noticing how it didn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually did. His boyish excitement for the role, which had been contagious at the start of filming, seemed to have dimmed. The twinkle that used to light up his face whenever he talked about his craft — the way he’d gush about his favorite scenes or the complexities of the character — was missing.

“You’ll have a few days off after, right?” I asked softly, studying him.

Nicholas nodded, brushing a hand through his messy hair, smearing some of the fake blood onto his temple without noticing. “Yeah, Luca’s giving us a break before we hit the really heavy scenes after the holidays.”

“How’s that going?” I asked, keeping my voice light, though I could feel the weight behind the question. “Are you… still excited about it?”

For a moment, his expression softened, the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, of course. It’s just…” He paused, looking down at his hands as if he were trying to find the right words. “I mean, I knew Patrick Bateman was dark, but really stepping into his world…” He trailed off, his brows knitting together.

I leaned forward slightly. “Are you taking care of yourself?” I asked gently.

He looked up at the camera, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You sound like my therapist," he teased, but the humor dian't fully land. He shifted on the couch, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm fine. Really. It's just... Patrick gets under your skin, you know? He's not the kind of guy you can just shake off at the end of the day."

I nodded, understanding but not fully convinced. Nicholas had always been dedicated to his craft, immersing himself completely in every role he took on. But this time felt different. The intensity of Patrick Bateman — the violence, the obsession with perfection, the darkness – seemed to be seeping into him in ways he couldn't quite articulate, at least to me.

"It's okay to take a step back," I said softly. "Even if it's just for a few days. You don't have to carry him around with you all the time."

He let out a soft laugh, but it was strained, almost hollow. "Easier said than done. This role is... it's everything l've ever wanted. It's iconic. But sometimes I wonder..." He stopped himself, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought. "Never mind. It's fine."

I frowned, my heart aching for him. "Nic," I said firmly, catching his attention. "You can talk to me. Whatever you're feeling, it's okay. You don't have to carry it alone."

His gaze softened, the vulnerability in his eyes clear even through the screen. "I know," he murmured. "And that's why I can't wait to see you. You... you're my anchor, you know that?“

My chest tightened at his words, a mixture of love and concern washing over me. "I'll be here," I promised. “The flight’s on a Sunday, you said?”

I watched as he nodded his head. I clapped my hand once, hoping to lighten the mood a bit, “That’s perfect. I’ll be able to pick you up then,” I said, trying to focus on him and not the fact that my mom was still pretending to dust the same spot on my dresser our entire conversation.

“Pick him up from where?” she chimed in, her tone light, but her interest was anything but. She tried to keep her voice low enough so Nicholas wouldn’t be able to hear, but of course, he did.

“The airport,” I replied curtly. “I told you he might visit.”

“Oh, you did!” She rounded my bed and made her way over to my desk, hugging my shoulders as she bent down to look at my screen, “Are you staying at that new hotel downtown, Nicholas? It’s very nice.” She flashed a too-bright smile at the camera, making no effort to hide her eavesdropping.

Nicholas straightened himself out the moment my mom came into frame, sitting straight on the couch, pulling the camera away from his face even further, and politely smiling at the camera, “I hadn’t booked anything yet. We were still figuring that out.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” she swatted her hand, smiling, “You can come stay with us!” She exclaimed, tightening her grip around my shoulders. I stiffened under hold. Her nails were basically digging into my skin like talons. She was the hawk, and I was the frail little mouse trapped in her hold.

“Nicholas and I were thinking about staying in a hotel,” I interjected, hoping she’d take the hint and not insist. But then my mom leaned closer to the camera, her voice taking on that sickly sweet tone she always used when she wanted something.

“Nonsense. Nicholas, we might have a full house, but you’re more than welcome to stay with (Y/N) in her room. Plus, it’ll give us a chance to get to know you better,” she smiled.

I could see the conflict flash across Nicholas's face, his instinct to be polite overriding any chance of him declining. He gave me a small, apologetic smile before saying, “That’s incredibly nice, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I’d be happy to stay with you.”

My stomach sank as my mom beamed with triumph, practically patting herself on the back for winning him over. She gave him one last beaming smile before finally releasing me and strolling out of the room and shutting the door behind her, as if she hadn’t undermined my entire plan to keep Nicholas as far away from the family as possible.

As soon as she was out of earshot, I turned back to Nicholas, my face twisted into a grimace. “I am so sorry.”

His laugh was soft and warm, putting me at ease despite my embarrassment. “It’s fine, really. She’s just looking out for you. Like how you look out for me.”

His optimism was endearing, but he didn’t understand the half of it. What he didn’t know was that there was an unspoken tension between my mom and I ever since I came back from visiting him in Los Angeles. I had hoped it would simmer down over time, like it always does, but this time… it felt much different. The tension with my mom had always followed a predictable pattern: her attempts to assert control, my efforts to maintain some semblance of independence, and eventually a cooling-off period where we both pretended nothing had ever happened.

This time, though, the friction felt more invasive, more calculated. It wasn’t just her usual meddling or harmless nagging; she was weaving herself into something that mattered to me more than anything else, something I was still learning how to protect. Having Nicholas  in my life had introduced a complication she couldn’t fully control, and so her presence was doubling — hovering over me in my own room, inserting herself into conversations. The more I tried to pull myself away, the more she pressed, as if refusing to let me slip away into any world that did not revolve around her approval.

Nicholas’s voice brought me out of my thoughts, “Plus, don’t you think it’ll be hot to have me tangled between your pink bed sheets?”

I gasped at his comment, rushing to lower the volume a bit, afraid my mom might be lingering outside my door. “Nicholas,” I whispered, widening my eyes, proceeding to bring my finger up to my lips to shush him. We had never talked dirty so openly on a FaceTime call during the day, and not right after my mom had been inside my room.

His head fell back in a fit of laughter, “C’mon, don’t tell me otherwise.”

I tried to fight the smile curling at the end of my lips, glancing over to my bed. I imagined Nicholas lying there, his long frame sprawled across the pink sheets I’d grown up with — the ones my mom had refused to let me replace because they still had a few good years left, even though they were already close to 12 years old.

I pictured the way his hands would skim the edges of my cream-colored quilt, the slight smirk that would curl on his lips as he teased me about my room — probably something about the dolls I’d never outgrown or the fairy lights I’d strung around my window. And then he’d pull me close, his teasing forgotten, his voice low and rough as he whispered something that would send a shiver down my spine.

“Doesn’t your break end in a bit?” I asked, ignoring his question purposefully.

A satisfied grin splayed across his face, knowing he was right about my fantasy. “Okay, I’ll book the flight and send you the details,” he sighed, sad to hang up. “I’ll call you tomorrow, babe,” he brought his phone up to his lips and kissed the camera.

“Bye, Nic,” I blew him a kiss before waving goodbye and hanging up, letting out a sigh and letting myself fall back into my chair.

Fuck, he’s visiting.

I tried to hide Nicholas’s existence from my family when we first started talking, particularly my mom, for as long as I could, knowing that the moment they’d find out, I’d be relentlessly teased about him or they would just anticipate the moment it was over between us. It was months and months of late night phone calls and trying to bite back the smile on my face as I texted him during family outings. There were times my family, mainly my mom, pointed out my constant habit of stepping out for a bit or excusing myself while we hung out or going to bed “early,” but they never really pressed after I gave them a plausible excuse.

However,  when I came back from Los Angeles and my mom had noticed my new necklace — the one he had given me with his initial engraved on the back — the suspicious look on her face was enough for me to give in, reluctantly telling her the truth about my trip to Los Angeles.

“What do you mean you met up with some guy?!” She angrily asked me, squeezing her temples with her fingers and closing her eyes in irritation, her hallmark sign of disappointment. It was like she had just been disillusioned with the “perfect” daughter she had raised all these years. In a way, however, I understood her anger. The idea of your child flying cross-country to meet up with a guy she hadn’t told you about was scary. But I was 23-years-old — not a child.

She paced back and forth in the living room while I sat anxious on the couch, my carry-on still at my feet, trying my best to calm her down, though I knew she wouldn’t. “He’s not just some guy, Mom,” I had said, my voice cracking under the weight of her judgment. “Nicholas is… different. He loves me,” I said, grazing my finger over my heart charm, wishing Nicholas was with me in this moment. In a way, he was. He always was.

My mom stopped mid-stride, narrowing her eyes at me as if I had just uttered the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. Her gaze then softened, sitting down next to me and running her fingers delicately through my hair, sympathetically smiling at me, as if I was a little baby, too new to the world. “Loves you?” She asked softly, resting her finger under my chin, “Honey, do you even know what love is?“

Her words stung more than I expected. “I do, Mom,” My voice was soft but firm, though it was clear she wasn’t convinced. “He showed me what love is supposed to be like, and it’s not…” I spoke, glancing over to her hands on my face before my gaze faltered downwards, afraid to look her in the eye.

She sighed heavily, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” The undertone of condescension still lingered in her voice, like I was too naive to understand the risks of putting my heart in someone else’s hands. And I did understand the risks, completely. After that weekend, I had decided that Nicholas was worth all the heartbreak that might come with loving him. I loved him that much.

I flinched, my fingers curling into fists in my lap. “You don’t even know him,” I retorted, my voice sharper than I intended. Quick to de-escalate, I sighed and softened my tone, “He’s not like that, Mom. He cares about me.”

She sat quiet for a moment, petting my hair one last time before retracting and crossing her arms. She eyed me like I was some sort of puzzle she desperately wanted to crack, but then, she broke the silence, “Do you at least have any pictures of your trip with him?”

I sniffled, a little apprehensive at her sudden curiosity. She never resigned so easily. Reluctantly, I pulled out my phone from my pocket, scrolling to the folder I’d created on the plane over, just for the two of us. My thumb hovered over the screen for a second, debating whether showing her these pictures would make things better or worse. But then I thought of Nicholas — his genuine smile, the way he laughed, the way he made me feel seen — and thought maybe showing her the pictures would ease her mind a bit.

I handed her the phone, bracing myself for her reaction. She tapped through the photos slowly, her brows furrowing at first, but gradually her expression softened. There was a selfie of us in his car after he had picked me up from the airport, the bouquet he had gotten me between us. Another of him making a silly face while we ate dinner at his place together. Another of us at the park while he lay reading his book on the picnic blanket. Another of us at the party we had gone to. And then there was my favorite — a candid shot he’d taken of me laughing, completely unaware he even had his phone out, the morning after he had given me the necklace.

Her lips twitched into a small smile as she swiped. “He’s… handsome,” she admitted grudgingly, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “And you look happy.”

I nodded, the lump in my throat easing slightly as I looked at the picture of myself laughing. “Yeah,” I spoke softly, clutching at my necklace.

So now, there I was, anxiously pacing around the house trying to fix anything that was out of place and tidying up before I had to go pick Nicholas up at the airport.

I started in the kitchen, preparing a sheet of cookies and throwing them into the oven while I started the chores. The sunlight streaking past the tree branches and through the window at the end of the kitchen highlighted every crumb and speck of dust that I hadn’t noticed before. I could recognize almost every meal each crumb and stain belonged to. Ew, is this really how we had been eating this entire week?

I grabbed a sponge and went to work, scrubbing in tight circles until the faint stains disappeared and swiped the crumbs off every surface. The floors were next. Armed with a broom, I swept every inch of the tile, then mopped it until it gleamed. I emptied the sink of dishes, meticulously washed and dried each one, and arranged them neatly in the cabinets.

Next was the living room. I fluffed every pillow on the couch and straightened the throws draped over the armrests. The coffee table bore the marks of messy nieces and nephews that loved to snack in front of the TV, so I wiped it down, replacing the haphazardly stacked magazines with a single glossy issue arranged just so. The family photos lining the media console caught my eye, and I quickly dusted them, making sure none looked out of place.

Then, I headed to my room, the place he’d be staying. The faded pastel walls, which I once adored, now felt too juvenile. The colorful glow-in-the-dark stickers I’d haphazardly plastered on my ceiling years ago seemed to mock me. It made my ceiling look like a cake topped with delicious sprinkles, which usually I liked, but now, maybe it was a little too much. The tiny collection of Hello Kitty and Bratz dolls that adorned the top of my desk stared back at me with judgment. Even the lace-trimmed curtains, which cast a soft, romantic glow during sunset, felt too frilly and immature. The only things that brought a semblance of maturity to my room were my bookshelves and the collection of CDs, DVDs and books that adorned them.

I sighed, scanning the room critically. It was as if my life was on display, my personality in every corner, and I wasn’t sure I wanted Nicholas to see every phase of it, at least not so in-his-face. I started with the easiest fix: the toys. Carefully, I gathered my Hello Kitty and Bratz dolls, wrapping them in a spare sheet of fabric and tucked them into the top of my closet. Out of sight, out of mind. I would be sure to put them back out once Nicholas flew back to New York.

I stood back, chewing on my lip, trying to decide if the stickers on the ceiling would be a dealbreaker. Eventually, I climbed onto my bed and stood on my tiptoes, peeling  most of them off, though a few stubborn ones refused to budge. I decided those could stay. Maybe I could make some romantic comment about them as Nicholas and I lay in bed together. He’d absolutely love my attempt at corniness.

I took down the lace curtains and replaced them with some old, sheer ones that used to be in the guest room before my mom redecorated. My bedside table was decluttered, leaving only a small lamp, my alarm clock, and the novel I was currently reading — American Psycho. The pink walls, however, were a lost cause. Suddenly, I kicked myself for choosing the princess pink color instead of the porcelain white like my mom had suggested all those years ago. She was right. How was she always right?

Lastly, I stared at the simple, floral cream quilt that adorned my bed. It looked so romantic, possibly my favorite piece of decor in my entire room. It made me feel like I was in some house in the southern countryside. And after fantasizing how Nicholas might look tangled up between the quilt and the sheets, I wasn’t particularly in any rush to switch them out. Those could stay, too.

I stepped back to survey my work. The changes weren’t much, but it eased my mind a little. It was minimalist compared to its usual state, looking the tiniest bit less like a dollhouse, but it didn't feel entirely foreign. It still looked like me, just... a more put-together version of me. It felt wrong, hiding a part of myself. It’s not like he hadn’t seen my room before in the background of all our FaceTime calls, but I wanted him to see me as an adult — someone confident, someone who could match his level of  independence. 

The smell of warm cookies wafted into my room, prompting me to walk out to the kitchen. As the hot air enveloped me when I pulled the treats out of the oven, my mom made her way over. I whipped my head up at the sound of her footsteps, smiling at her.

“I’m just gonna let these cookies rest while I finish getting ready, then I’ll head over to the airport to pick up Nicholas. Is everybody gonna be here by the time we’re back?” I asked, setting the tray of cookies down on top of the stove and fanning the heat away with the oven mitt.

My mom leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her face flashing a closed-mouth smile. “Your brothers are already on their way, and you know your dad always gets home right before dinner is served.” Sensing my nervousness, she inched her way over, cupping my face in her hands. “Are you sure you’re ready to have Nicholas stay with us for an entire weekend?”

It was the way she asked the question that irritated me beyond words. It was like she was purposely trying to psych me out. But… was I? Of course, I wanted Nicholas to be here. I hadn’t seen him in so long, since Los Angeles, but the thought of him navigating my family… The thought alone was enough to second guess my excitement. And what if truly seeing me in my natural element made him second guess visiting? What if we overwhelmed him? Would they scare him away?

I pulled her hands away from my face, walking away from her to make my way toward my room, “Why do you always do that?” I didn’t mean to sound irritated, but I did.

My mom followed after me, her footsteps deliberate but not rushed. “Do what?” she asked, feigning innocence, though the knowing tone in her voice betrayed her.

I turned to face her in the hallway, trying to keep my voice level. “Make me doubt myself. You always ask questions like you’re trying to plant some little seed of doubt in my head. You’re the one that insisted Nicholas stay here while he visited. Why is it suddenly a problem?”

Her breath caught in her throat, out of surprise…? She subtly shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her feet, “It’s not a problem; I’m just saying,” she spoke softly.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe of my room. “Just saying what, Mom? That you don’t think he’s going to stick around? That I shouldn’t let myself get too comfortable? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

She straightened, her expression hardening for just a moment before softening again. “Honey,” she began, her voice gentler this time. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re young, and he’s… well, he’s in demand. It’s not that I don’t want this to work for you. I just—” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’ve seen how these things can go.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Mom, I know his life is different, but we’ve made it work so far, haven’t we? Hell, you didn’t even know I was dating him for months! I know what I’m doing — what we’re doing — Mom. I’m not a little girl.”

That’s when she took a peek inside my bedroom, noting the irony in my words. There was a long pause before she nodded, her hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “If you say so,” she said finally. Does she hear herself? She must. “Now, get ready. I’ll start dinner,” she gently squeezed my shoulder and walked away.

I retreated to my bedroom, shutting the door and leaning against it, letting out a shaky breath. I slid down to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, taking a moment to collect myself. My heart was pounding in my chest. Why did every conversation with my mom feel like a battle, one she always had the upperhand in? It wasn’t that I didn’t value her opinion, I did, but her doubts, her subtle jabs, they clung to me like stubborn cobwebs, clouding my thoughts.

I tilted my head back, staring at the few stubborn star stickers on the ceiling. Nicholas. He always had this uncanny way of making me feel like I could handle anything, like I was more than enough just as I was. That was one of the biggest things I had learned the last time I saw him, and it was something I’d carry close to my heart. I could already hear his voice in my head, telling me to breathe, to let it go. He was my calm, my calm that was about to land in an hour.

I pushed myself up, determined to shake off the unease. There wasn’t time to dwell on this. I needed to finish getting ready. I rummaged through my closet, deciding on a simple blouse and pants paired with some fur-lined boots to brace my feet for the unseasonably cold weather. Yes, it was technically winter and there would be some cool breezes here and there, but it would never get this cold until late January. 

As I checked myself in the mirror, I caught a glimpse of the necklace he’d given me, glinting against my skin. I ran my fingers over the charm, taking a steadying breath. Whatever my mom thought, whatever doubts she had, they didn’t matter. Nicholas and I were building something real, something that felt solid in a way I couldn’t explain to her, and I don’t think anybody besides us could understand that. But was it so wrong of me to still want her support?

Grabbing my keys, I headed out, my mom giving me a knowing look as I passed through the kitchen. Silently, I grabbed some warm cookies and packed them into a paper bag so Nicholas could have something to snack on during our drive back.

“Drive safe,” my mom spoke, her voice softer this time, almost apologetic. I gave her a nod, not trusting myself to say more, and stepped outside into the cold evening air.

The drive to the airport was quieter than I expected. The town lights began to grow scarce the more I drove as I navigated the backroads, my mind drifting between thoughts of Nicholas and my mom’s parting words. I rolled the windows down slightly, allowing the cool air to rush in and mix with the warm scent of cookies. The radio played softly in the background, but my mind wasn’t on the music. I was thinking about Nicholas — how I’d be able to bury my face in his chest again and absorb his scent. I missed being in his arms more than anything in the world. He was the only one that truly understood me, my wants and needs.

The soft hum of the tires against the asphalt seemed to lull me into a sense of calm, though my thoughts raced on. The further I drove, the more I could imagine Nicholas’s smile when he finally saw me, when I could wrap my arms around him after months apart and our busy schedules — his movie, my new project at work. It almost felt surreal. My hands tightened around the wheel, not from nervousness, but from the surge of excitement that made my heart race in my chest. I couldn’t wait for the second that I could kiss him again, devour him. As the airport slowly came into view, I felt the first real pang of reality. The distance between us, the time apart, seemed to fade into the background with each passing minute.

Our town’s airport was tiny and only a couple of gates, so there were barely any cars parked on the curb at Arrivals. I pulled into the nearly empty parking lot, the glow from the overhead lights casting long shadows across the pavement. I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and anticipation coursing through me. As I parked the car, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart. This was it. In just a few moments, Nicholas would be standing right in front of me.

I grabbed the bag of cookies and quickly made my way toward the entrance. The chill in the air nipped at my skin, but it didn’t matter. I could feel the warmth of the moment building with each step.

As I entered the terminal, the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the echoing chatter of the few travelers filled the air. I scanned the area, hoping to spot Nicholas right away. And then, I saw him riding the escalator downward toward the ground floor, tapping away at his phone..

Just then, my phone rang loudly, echoing through the borderline empty airport. Nicholas whipped his head up at the sound, the biggest grin growing on his face the moment his eyes landed on me.

I felt my breath hitch as I watched him. He was dressed casually but effortlessly — a black sweater layered under a dark blue blouson, paired with dark jeans that clung perfectly to his long legs. A duffel bag hung over one shoulder, his other hand tucked into his pocket as he rode the escalator with an easy confidence.

But it wasn’t just his clothes that caught my attention. It was him — all of him. His perfectly trimmed hair was slightly tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it during the flight, and the faintest shadow of two days worth of stubble dusted his jaw. His eyes, those impossibly deep, brown eyes, were locked on me, warm and full of emotion. It was a stark contrast to the last time I’d seen him on FaceTime, his gaze weighed down by the intensity of his role. Now, that familiar sparkle was back, and it was all for me.

Nicholas didn’t hesitate, not for a second. Immediately, he trotted as quickly as he could down the moving escalator. The moment his feet hit the floor, the distance between us closed in an instant. My heart thumped in my chest, a mix of nerves and longing that had been building for the last 6 months. He reached me in what felt like a breath, his arms wrapping around me, lifting me off the ground as if the weight of time apart hadn’t existed at all.

I laughed, a sound of pure relief and joy, burying my face in the crook of his neck as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. His scent was all-encompassing — that intoxicating cedarwood and vanilla. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of him against me, a sensation I had craved for far too long.

He set me down on the floor gently, his forehead resting gently against mine, as though absorbing the closeness before something more. The world around us seemed to blur and slow, the soft hum of the airport fading into the background as I lost myself in him. Slowly, he leaned closer, and I felt his lips hover just above mine, teasing. The tension was palpable, the space between us charged with everything that had been building since we’d last seen each other. Then, with a quiet sigh, he kissed me.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic, though every second felt like it held a lifetime’s worth of longing. His lips were soft, tender, as if asking for permission even though we both knew the answer. My hands found their way to his neck, pulling him closer, needing him just a little more. The kiss deepened, slow and perfect, as if the universe had arranged this exact moment just for us. The world, the noise, the doubts — all of it faded away. All that existed was the undeniable bond between us and us alone.

A quiet groan escaped from the depths of his chest. The sound sent a ripple of warmth through me, igniting a deep flame in me. His hands cupped my face, his thumbs gently brushing along my jawline, as if he couldn't get enough of me, of this moment. It was as though we were trying to make up for every moment we had spent apart, pouring every unspoken word, every feeling, into that kiss. His lips were insistent now, but still patient — a perfect balance of hunger and tenderness. My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him even closer, if that was even possible. His breath mingled with mine, warm and inviting, and I was lost in the taste of him — the familiar, comforting yet electrifying taste of someone who felt like home.

The heat between us was undeniable, growing stronger with each press of his lips, each soft sigh that escaped his mouth. His hands trailed down my back, pulling me flush against him, and I felt the solid press of his chest against mine, the weight of his presence grounding me. He was here. Finally, here.

When we finally pulled away, our lips swollen and tingling from the intensity, neither of us could speak right away. We were both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting together, as if unwilling to separate for even a moment. The airport had faded completely, the hum of the air conditioning and distant footsteps drowned out by the pounding of our hearts. His eyes, darkened with emotion, searched mine as though he was memorizing every detail, every little thing that had been waiting for this reunion.

"God, I needed that more than you know," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, a trace of longing that faltered into a soft chuckle.

I smiled, my hands still wrapped behind his head. “I think we both did,” I murmured, my voice thick with the same longing he’d just expressed.

Nicholas furrowed his eyebrows, confused at the warm feeling behind his neck and reached for the hand cradling the back of his head, feeling the warm paper bag. “What’s this?” He asked.

I chuckled softly, realizing I still had the bag of cookies clutched in my hand. “Oh, right,” I said, pulling back just enough to glance down at the bag. “I made you something. Thought you might like a little something sweet after your flight.”

His grin widened as he pulled the bag from my hand, his fingers brushing mine in the process. “Cookies, huh?” He raised an eyebrow playfully, his voice filled with affection. “You really know the way to my heart, don’t you?”

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through me at the simple exchange. “I know you have a thing for sweet things,” I teased.

Nicholas gave me a mock-serious look, tearing open the top of the bag and pulling out a cookie. He took a bite, his eyes closing for a moment. He took his time, savoring the soft texture of the cookie. His lips parted slightly as he chewed, his gaze momentarily shifting to the ceiling as though he were lost in the moment. The way he closed his eyes, lost in the indulgence of something so simple sent a shiver down my spine.

As he swallowed, his eyes slowly met mine again, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Mmm," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the hint of satisfaction curling around each moan.

The corner of my mouth quirked up, unable to tear my eyes away from the way he continued to enjoy the cookie, each bite slow and deliberate. He leaned in slightly, taking another bite. The way his lips wrapped around the cookie, taking in the sweetness with such intent, made my pulse quicken. He didn't break eye contact, holding me captive with the intensity of his gaze.

As Nicholas finished the cookie, he dusted the crumbs off his hands and pulled me in by the hips, planting a kiss near my ear, whispering, “They taste amazing.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine at his whisper, the heat of his breath sending a jolt through me. My heart raced, my skin tingling from the closeness of his body, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on my skin. But as much as my body yearned for more, I knew I had to keep it together. We were still in public, still in an airport, and I had my family waiting for us back at the house.

But Nicholas, ever the tease, seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He pulled back just enough to look at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I think these cookies might be my new favorite thing."

I chuckled, trying to maintain my composure, but his gaze never left mine, that knowing smile never leaving his lips. He stepped closer, his body nearly flush against mine, and the heat between us intensified. I could feel the quiet electricity that buzzed through the air, every inch of my body aching to close the distance, but I couldn't. Not here. Not now.

Nicholas, as if sensing my struggle, leaned in again, but this time, he just hovered near my lips, not kissing me, but close enough to make my breath hitch. His eyes flicked to my lips for a moment, then back up to my eyes, and he let out a soft, breathy laugh. "You look like you want more," he teased, his lips brushing lightly against mine but never fully committing.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, and I knew I was flushed from the inside out. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, but I couldn't fight the urge to lean into him, just a little bit more. My fingers curled into his shirt, but I stopped myself before I could pull him closer.

I let out a breath I didn't realize l'd been holding, trying to regain my composure. "You're cruel," I murmured, though I couldn't hide the smile tugging at my lips.

Nicholas grinned, leaning in one last time to place a soft kiss on my forehead. "You love it," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and affection.

I let out a soft laugh, feeling a sense of relief wash over me, despite the fire still simmering beneath the surface. As much as I wanted more — as much as I needed more — I knew we would have our time. But for now, the teasing, the gentle push and pull between us, would have to be enough, even if it wasn’t. I had to take him home to the firing squad waiting for him. Without another word, I took his hand and led us away from the terminal, leaving the heat between us simmering just beneath the surface.

As we stepped outside into the cool night air, the excitement of our reunion still buzzing between us, I slid into the driver's seat, giving Nicholas a quick glance before starting the engine as he climbed in and tossed his singular duffel bag to the backseat. I started the car, effortlessly driving us out of the parking lot, paying the fee, and leaving the airport behind.

The town was pitch black as we drove, especially the outskirts, where the few lampposts scattered along the main roads barely illuminated the way. Their weak, flickering lights cast long, eerie shadows across the pavement, creating fleeting impressions of movement that disappeared as quickly as they appeared. The resaca, with its still, dark waters and overgrown banks, stretched alongside the endless roads. The occasional glint of moonlight reflected off the surface, giving the area an almost ethereal, otherworldly quality.

Large properties lined the water, their sprawling lawns disappearing into the inky shadows of towering mesquite trees. Most of the houses were set far back from the road, their silhouettes barely visible through the dense foliage. A few of the homes had faint lights glowing from their windows, but not enough to make them seem particularly inviting. Creepy, more like.

During the drive, Nicholas and I participated in a conversation that was as if we had never been separated by distance or schedules. He refrained from telling me the entertaining details of his holidays at his dad’s over the phone, anticipating the moment he could tell me all about it in person. I had asked him how filming in the New York slush had been going, to which he would alternate between speaking somberly about how the filming had been tiring at times but also giving into his enthusiasm for having the privilege of playing such an iconic character and working under an equally iconic director.

He kept up a steady stream of anecdotes from his time away, his voice carrying a sense of nostalgia, as if sharing his experiences with me made them all the more real. I listened intently, laughing at his recreations of certain moments, watching him snack on the entire bag of cookies, and enjoying how effortlessly he seemed to slip back into the comfortable cadence of our conversations. Though, I could tell he was a little sleepy.

As we drove through the outskirts of town, the moonlight casting soft shadows over the winding road, I found myself stealing glances at him every few seconds. Truthfully, the more he talked, the more I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, off his lips. I was so excited to be near him again that I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, finding every excuse to run my fingers through his hair, hold my hand in his, or rest my hand on his knee. I just needed to feel him under my fingertips every second.

Nicholas responded in kind. He’d brush his fingers through the back of my head, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the hair near my ear. He’d grab my hand and leave gentle kisses on my knuckles and my wrist. But what drove me insane was when he rested his hand on my thigh, tracing lazy circles slowly. The touch was slow, deliberate, and it sent a jolt of desire straight through me. I couldn't focus on the road, not with his hand so close, so dangerously close. I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

I felt Nicholas's gaze on me the moment I shifted in my seat, and I could feel his eyes tracing my every movement, the weight of his attention making my skin tingle. “How far are we from your house?” He asked, breaking the silence with a voice full of intrigue, as his hand inched ever so slightly upward, lightly squeezing my thigh.

I turned my head to look at him briefly before focusing back on the road. "10 minutes," I replied, too busy focusing on keeping my tone casual to notice the mischief in his voice.

Nicholas leaned closer, his hand moving inward and curling into the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Instinctively, I covered his hand with mine, gripping at his fingers. 

He chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and his hand didn't move away. Instead, he gently pressed his fingers against the warm curve of my thigh, sending a ripple of heat through me. His thumb brushed against my pants, slow and teasing, making it almost impossible to concentrate on the road. He didn't say anything right away, just let the silence settle, allowing the heat from his touch to fill the space.

My pulse quickened, and I found myself fighting the urge to pull him closer, to give in to the pull between us. But Nicholas was persistent. With my hand still hovering over his, he led his hand further in, his fingers trailing over the seam of my crotch. I dug my fingers into his, sharply inhaling.

“Am I distracting you?” He finally cooed.

I couldn’t answer right away. The words were lodged in my throat, lost somewhere between desire and restraint. The warmth of his touch seemed to burn through my clothes, and the teasing, slow pace of his movements only heightened the ache building inside me. My grip tightened around his fingers as I fought to steady my breath.

“Am I?” he pressed, his voice so low and soft, it was almost a whisper.

His fingers were still there, hovering so close to where I wanted them, but not quite touching exactly where I needed them. His hand shifted slightly, fingers pressing ever so gently into the warmth of my inner thigh, teasingly slow. I couldn't help the soft shudder that ran through me as the pressure built, each touch of his fingertips sending ripples of anticipation through my body. My breath came in shallow bursts, my pulse racing under the weight of his touch. I could feel the heat radiating from him, feel the weight of his gaze on me, daring me to answer, daring me to make the next move.

Not wanting to let him forget the fact we were on the way home to meet my family with just a few minutes left in the drive, I shook my head no.

Nicholas's lips curved into a smile, “No?” He unbuckled himself from his seat, turning his body toward me. As one hand braced the back of my neck, the other inching its way toward the zipper of my pants, slowly undoing it.

His fingers grazed the edge of my pants, and a breath caught in my throat. "Nic..." I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of the engine.

He didn't reply right away. Instead, he simply undid the button and slipped his hand under my jeans. I bit back a moan, jerking the wheel slightly. Nicholas glanced up at the road, chuckling, leaning toward me and letting his lips hover over my ear, “You should pull over,” he murmured, his voice husky.

I swallowed, trying to calm my racing pulse. "I can't," I whispered, my voice trembling with both desire and restraint.

Nicholas's hand was still between my legs, his fingers teasing and gently caressing, slowly but deliberately. I could feel the heat building in my core with every passing second, the line between what I wanted and what I could control blurring.

The warmth of his touch, the pressure of his fingers pressing gently against me, made every ounce of rational thought evaporate. I didn't know how much longer I could hold on. His thumb brushed against me again, and I let out a breathless gasp, my grip on the wheel faltering for a second. His hand didn't stop, his fingers moving with purpose, and I found myself gripping his wrist, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. He continued, though, his lips curling into a satisfied smile against my neck as he kissed the soft skin there.

"Do you want me to stop?" His voice was low, teasing, but there was something deeper in it now, a hunger that mirrored my own.

I didn't trust myself to speak, my mind spinning with conflicting desires. I shook my head again, unable to hold back the desperate need flooding my senses.

"Then you know what to do," he murmured, his lips brushing over my jawline before he kissed me again, this time deeper, more demanding.

My heart hammered in my chest as I reached for the blinker and slowly turned into somebody’s long dirt driveway. As we drove down the narrow, unlit dirt road, the car's headlights illuminated the trees on either side, casting long shadows across the path. My pulse raced, the anticipation of what was about to happen coursing through my veins. Nicholas's fingers never left their place, moving ever so slowly, deliberately, driving me insane with every touch.

I pulled the car to a stop about halfway through the driveway, not wanting to invade the person’s property too much. The engine hummed softly as I shifted into park, but the moment I turned the key, it felt as though the entire world had stopped with us.

Before I could even turn toward him, he was already reaching for me, his hand slipping into my hair, tugging me toward him. His kiss was urgent now, more forceful, as if we both needed to make up for lost time. My heart hammered in my chest, my hands immediately going to his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

His hand slid from my neck to my shoulder, gently pushing me back into the seat as he leaned over me, his body pressing against mine. The weight of his presence, the feeling of him so close, made my skin burn with need. My hands roamed to his chest, tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate for more contact, more of him.

But just as his hand grazed the waistband of my jeans again, preparing to slip further down, the sound of an approaching car in the distance broke through the haze of our moment. Its headlights shone through my car windows, as it turned into the driveway, slowly making its way down. I froze, pulling away from him, my heart skipping a beat as I glanced quickly out the windshield. When the approaching car honked its horn, we realized we were blocking its path.

Nicholas let out a frustrated sigh, his body stiffening. He didn't pull away completely but rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed in silent frustration. We were both breathing heavily, our faces flushed from the heat of our kiss. He stifled a chuckle, brushing my hair with his hand, “Not our time, I guess.”

The sudden interruption felt like cold water on a heated moment. The car's headlights grew brighter, its engine revving slightly as it came closer. The car honked again, impatient now. Nicholas let out a low chuckle, his lips brushing over mine one more time before pulling back completely. He watched me with a playful grin as I maneuvered the car, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over the back of my hand. He was teasing, his eyes twinkling with the kind of mischief that made me want to forget about everything — to simply lose myself in him. God, it was a little scary how he could make me do anything he wanted, but I loved the thought.

As we exited the driveway and turned into the backroad, a different kind of nerves settled in my stomach — the kind I didn’t like. I had no idea how Nicholas would react to meeting my family, given how chaotic my home life was, especially lately. And I didn’t know if my family would like him, though I knew he could charm the pants off them.

The knot in my stomach grew larger the closer we got home. The town lights started to grow in numbers, a sign we were close to arriving at my house. I looked to Nicholas then.

He intertwined his fingers with mine and brought our hands up to his lips for him to kiss.

With a deep breath, I nodded and continued driving, turning into my neighborhood. As we pulled up to the house, the lights inside were visible through the windows, casting a soft glow that made the house look even more inviting. I parked the car and turned off the engine, sitting still for a moment. My gaze shifted toward the house, where I could see the faint silhouettes of my family moving around inside.

In a way, I wanted my family to meet him, so they could see that I was happy and that I hit the jackpot meeting the most kind and loving man I could’ve ever hoped for. And I wanted my mom to see for herself that I was doing fine without all her interjecting and opinions about the way I was choosing to live my life. But I also so desperately wanted to maneuver the car out of the neighborhood and drive away with Nicholas. My mom would tear him apart — not to his face, she cares too much about people’s impressions about her to do that. But I knew that once he was out of earshot and I made myself available that she would pull me aside and begin making snide comments about his character or his life.

Nicholas sat quietly beside me for a moment, his hand still holding mine. Finally, he broke the silence. “Hey, hey, hey,” he spoke quietly, shifting closer toward my side of the car and delicately caressing my cheek, “it’s gonna be ok. I’m not going anywhere, ok?” he smiled softly and kissed the back of my hand. “I’m here for you.”

I leaned into his touch, nodding my head and kissing the ball of his thumb before stepping out of the car, the cold seemingly dropping temperature the more I lingered outside the house. I watched Nicholas as he reached into the backseat for his duffel bag and closed the door behind him, slinging his luggage around his shoulder and rounding the car, reaching his hand out for me to grab. He had that confident grin again, as if he were about to take on the world, and all I had to do was walk through the door with him.

My heart raced as I looked into his eyes, trying to gather the courage to face what lay ahead. Nicholas’s calm confidence, the steady way he held me, made it feel like everything might be okay. His reassurance was all I needed, and it was the push that led me to the door and opened it with a quiet confidence, stepping inside with Nicholas right behind me. The moment the door clicked shut, the familiar, tense atmosphere hit me like a wall, but I pushed through it. Having Nicholas by my side was all I really needed to get through anything.

My mom, who was in the kitchen clanging pots around, quickly scampered toward the entrance, a huge smile on her face, though I knew it was a farce. “Welcome home!” she exclaimed, her voice slightly too high-pitched to sound natural. Her eyes darted to Nicholas, scanning him quickly as if she were appraising him like some antique at a flea market. “You must be Nicholas. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you in person.”

Nicholas extended his hand with that disarming, movie-star smile of his. “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. (Y/L/N). Thank you for letting me stay here, and with (Y/N) in her room.”

She playfully swatted her hand, “It’s the least I can do.  Plus, It’s not like we have a guest room anyway,” she raised her voice during the last few words, sure to have my brothers — who were lounging in the living room — overhear her comment.

My eldest brother's scoff from the couch was audible enough to cut through the tension. He didn't even bother turning around, just called out lazily, "It’s not my fault my ex-wi—“

My mom quickly whipped her head and shushed him, before turning her head back toward us and flashing us a saccharine smile. “Well, dinner’s almost ready, honey. Why don’t you go say hi to your brothers then show Nicholas to your room so he could settle in? I hope you like cordon bleu, Nicholas?”

Nicholas chuckled, entirely unruffled. "Cordon bleu sounds perfect.”

Before I could glance back at her to gauge her emotion, she had already turned and was bustling back into the kitchen. Nicholas moved to remove his blouson and proceeded to help me take off my coat, hanging both on the hooks near the entrance. As Nicholas wrapped his arm around my waist, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding, leaning into him slightly. He kissed the top of my head before subtly leading me by the small of my back, encouraging me to walk us further into the house.

As we moved into the living room, the sound of the TV playing some sports highlights filled the air. My older brothers were sprawled on the couch, but they both looked up as we walked in. The eldest was the first to stand, brushing the invisible crumbs off his shirt. His expression softened into a genuine smile as he approached us. My older brother, the middle child, stood up next, towering over Nicholas by just a few inches, a little more relaxed but equally warm. I watched as they all introduced themselves to each other, Nicholas laughing, as he shook his hand, his smile beaming. I could already tell they were going to get along, which, thankfully, is one less thing to worry about.

“You guys settle in. We’ll save all the smalltalk for dinner,” my eldest brother smiled.

I shot him a look that said ‘thank you’ before pulling Nicholas away to my bedroom, feeling a little lighter. My brothers’ warmth had softened some of the anxiety that had been gnawing at me all day. Nicholas seemed completely at ease, which made me feel even better. Though, I wasn’t sure how he’d hold up against my mom’s subtle interrogation at dinner.

I hesitantly pushed open my bedroom door and stepped inside, flipping on the light. I glanced over to Nicholas, anxious for a reaction to my pink paradise bedroom, but he walked in with a complete look of wonder and a twinkle in his eye.

“Did you change some stuff?” He asked, dropping his duffel bag at the foot of the bed and approaching my dresser, running his finger over the table runner adorning it.

I scoffed, impressed, “How’d you know?”

He smiled, reaching for a picture frame on the dresser, admiring it for a moment before setting it back down and stepping closer to me, resting his hands on my hips, “(Y/N), we’ve been FaceTiming and sending each other photos for the last 10 months. I know your bedroom like the back of my hand. Example, I know you got rid of the dolls on your desk, and switched out your curtains.

With a little smile, I rested my arms on his shoulders, running my fingers through his hair, “I just didn’t want my room to seem too childish. Your apartment is just… so grown up.”

Nicholas chuckled softly, his hands sliding down to rest on my lower back, pulling me a little closer as he backed up into the bed and let us softly fall onto it, landing with a little bounce, “Your room is you, and I love that about it. Don’t change a thing just because of me.”

I swatted his chest lightly, and he laughed again, his smile so genuine it melted away the lingering tension in my chest. Being with Nicholas always felt like a safe harbor in the chaos of my life. He had a way of grounding me, reminding me that everything could be okay, even if it wasn’t perfect.

“Fine,” I sighed, “I’ll put the Hello Kitty back tomorrow.”

Just as Nicholas was about to lean forward to kiss me, a knock sounded through the door. My mom’s voice floated through, saccharine-sweet, but with an edge I knew all too well. “Dinner’s ready!“

I sighed, “We just can’t catch a break, can we?” I asked, referring to tonight’s missed opportunity to truly welcome Nicholas.

Nicholas smiled, planting a quick kiss on my lips before lifting us up off the bed and reaching for the door knob.

We made our way to the dining room, where the table was set far more elaborate than usual — the fancy plates and silverware that only came out for holidays or, in this case, the arrival of a special guest, which was never, until today. My mom was bustling around, setting down the final dishes of the spread with the practiced flair of someone who wanted everything to appear effortless.

Just then, my dad walked through the front door. He smiled over to Nicholas and I, enveloping me in the warmest hug, even though he had just walked in from the cold. “Hey, sweetie,” he smiled. His gaze fell on Nicholas and his face lit up. “This must be Nicholas! We’re excited to have you over,” he brought Nicholas in for a big hug.

It was so nice to see my dad give Nicholas the warm welcome my mom didn’t. Though he never really learned how to be as outward with his emotions like I had, my dad always knew when to choose the perfect moment to do so, like right now.

“Thank you, sir,” Nicholas said warmly, patting my dad’s back before pulling away. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“None of that ‘sir’ business,” my dad said, waving it off with a chuckle. “ And don’t be shy about seconds, we have plenty of food.”

My dad’s hearty laughter and easygoing demeanor were a stark contrast to my mom’s tightly wound facade. While she always seemed preoccupied with appearances and the opinions of others, my dad was grounded, warm, and genuine. He always tried to make people feel at ease around him.

“Trust me, I won’t be shy at all,” Nicholas softly chuckled, “I have to keep up my macros.”

Everyone circled around the table, choosing their seats. My mom sat at the head with my father on the opposite end, Nicholas and I sat on one side with me sitting closest to my mom, and my brothers on the opposite side. Nicholas, ever the gentleman, pulled out my chair for me and waited to sit down until I had settled in. I glanced over to my mom, who was eyeing us, studying us. He, however, didn’t notice, continuing to converse with my dad.

“How much do you weigh? 200?” My dad asked him, already serving himself a hearty portion of sides.

Nicholas nodded his head, “Yeah, 205. Do you lift?”

That’s when my dad flashed the biggest smile. By then, Nicholas, my dad, and my older brother had all started passionately talking about their gym routines — what protein powders and amino acid supplements they take, and what their current bench press is at. Their little huddle of gym talk left me, my mom, and my eldest brother to converse about anything but. We weren’t into that sort of thing.

All the while, everybody was serving themselves the hopefully delicious dinner my mom had prepared, as she had never cooked cordon bleu before until tonight. In fact, she hadn’t cooked any of this before, not the apple fritters, not the pasta salad, and certainly not the homemade tea. We were only ever a family of plain ol’ seasoned chicken and vegetables — steamed, grilled, in a soup, or in pasta. The homemade tea and the apple fritters were certainly new. A part of me wondered if under all the subtle criticism of Nicholas, maybe my mom had also simultaneously wanted to impress him.

I leaned over to Nicholas and opened my mouth to ask him if I could fix him a plate, but he interrupted me, his voice low and warm as he leaned in. “What do you want from the spread? I’ll fix you a plate,” he spoke quietly, squeezing my knee.

The gesture was so casual yet intimate that it sent a rush of warmth through me. I smirked at him, “I was gonna fix you one.”

Nicholas tilted his head, his smile playful yet tender. “How about I take care of you first, deal?” He asked quietly, brushing his hand over my knee and lightly squeezing it.

I rolled my eyes with a smile, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Fine. But don’t skimp on the pasta salad, okay?”

He chuckled, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “Got it.”

As he reached for the serving dishes, my mom’s gaze flickered to us, her expression carefully neutral. I could tell she was observing every detail — how Nicholas moved, how he spoke, how we interacted. She hadn’t said much since we sat down, but I knew her mind was racing. Nicholas, completely unbothered, assembled a plate for me with meticulous care. He even placed the apple fritter on the side so it wouldn’t touch the other food.

When he set the plate in front of me, he added a quiet, “There you go, beautiful,” as if it were just the two of us in the room.

I heard one of my brothers cough to hide a laugh, and the other smirked into his drink. Though, that was to be expected. They had never seen me bring anybody home before. Growing up, I had always been the spectator when it came to relationships. My brothers were seasoned pros at bringing girlfriends home, confidently showcasing their charm while I watched from the sidelines. One had his parade of high school sweethearts, always introducing them to the family with ease, before settling down with his now ex-wife. The other, though quieter, had his fair share of relationships too, and ended up moving to the city with his current girlfriend. And, of course, my entire life I had been a spectator to my parents’ relationship. 

It was something I had grown used to — watching my family be romantic with their significant others, sharing soft touches and stolen glances with the girls they brought into our lives, secretly pining for the moment that I may bring someone home for them to meet, too. But me? I had never been in their shoes. Never had anyone to bring home, let alone someone like Nicholas. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested in love — it just never happened for me. Whether it was shyness, pickiness, or just bad timing, I’d never had a real boyfriend before him. And while I knew my brothers weren’t entirely comfortable seeing this new side of me, there was a small part of me that relished it.

My mom, on the other hand, didn’t seem as amused as they did, keeping her grins polite while she tightly chewed on her food. Finally, she cleared her throat, her tone light but pointed. "So, Nicholas," she began, "(Y/N) tells us you’re an actor.”

My older brother interjected excitedly, “Is it true you’re in the new American Psycho movie?”

Nicholas grinned at his enthusiasm, his charm on full display as he nodded. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“Patrick Bateman?” My dad questioned, smiling. Nicholas nodded his head as he took a bite of his food. “Is playing the character tough?” My dad asked, wanting to know more. It was his first time meeting an actor of any kind.

Nicholas sighed, letting himself be vulnerable for a moment, “Yeah, it is. I tend to be an obsessive person, so I dedicate myself completely to every role I play; I completely immerse myself into the mindset of the character, and sometimes it can get to me.”

I watched Nicholas with absolute heart eyes as he spoke so candidly with my brothers and dad, his hand leaving my thigh occasionally whenever he began to talk passionately, using both his hands to really drive his point. They  were listening so intently, almost mesmerized. I realized then that I wished my mom gave Nicholas the same chance my dad and brothers did.

I glanced over to her as Nicholas spoke, watching her actively fight the urge to be as engaging in conversation as the rest of the family were. She was always like this — never truly engaged with anybody new she met, as if she was just a step above them to truly listen to whatever they had to say. Her behavior wasn’t new. I had watched her do this with every friend I brought home. She’d be polite — cordial even — but there was always this air of detachment, like she was humoring them instead of genuinely welcoming them. Once the door closed behind them, the comments would start.

“You shouldn’t trust her, you know,” she would say, cutting into my excitement after a fun hangout. “Girls like that always have ulterior motives.” Or, “She seems nice, but I get the feeling she talks about you behind your back.”

Over time, those remarks wore on me. I had stopped bringing friends home altogether by the time I hit high school. It wasn’t worth the scrutiny or the inevitable debrief where my mom dissected every perceived flaw in my friends, subtly planting doubts in my mind until I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hang out with them anymore. And the worst part was that sometimes, my mom ended up being right.

“(Y/N)’s been keeping the details of your relationship secret; For what? I don’t know, so forgive me for asking so many questions, but how did you two meet?” My mom asked, slicing a piece of chicken.

The food caught in both our throats at the question. Our meeting wasn’t exactly PG. I reached under the table to rest my hand on his knee, feeling  my face flush as I glanced over to Nicholas, who took the fabric napkin up to his mouth to brush away the nonexistent crumbs, giving himself some time to compose himself before responding, clearing his throat

 “Well, actually, we met at the beach,” he said smoothly, keeping things vague but not dishonest. I let out a small sigh of relief. He was so good at handling situations like this, keeping things light without giving away too much. Thank you, PR training.

 His words hung in the air for a moment, and I could feel my mom’s eyes on us, her scrutiny never wavering. She wasn’t satisfied yet. “Here?” She asked, stifling a chuckle. “Wait,” her eyes landed on me, “did you meet him when you booked that room at the beach by yourself that one weekend?”

I reached for my glass of tea and gulped, hoping it might soothe the blood rushing to my cheeks, “Um, yeah,” I answered curtly. “Yeah, we met that weekend.” Memories of that weekend started to replay in my head, the heat starting to pool low in my belly at the memory of Nicholas and I getting to know each other carnally.

“What was a famous actor doing at the island here of all places?” My dad asked, amused at the thought.

Nicholas, however, remained unfazed. He leaned back in his chair, his calm demeanor never faltering. “Well, I live in Los Angeles, so I’m at the beach there all the time,” he replied smoothly, shooting me a reassuring glance. “I guess I just wanted to get to know a new beach on the opposite coast and booked a flight here, and well… the rest is history.”

His words felt like a shield, soft but strong, deflecting my mom’s questions without making it seem like he was hiding anything. I couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he handled it. He was a natural at navigating tense moments, and I felt a weight lift off my chest.

But my mom wasn’t quite done. “So, just the two of you at the beach? No one else?” she asked, almost too casually, like she was trying to catch him in a lie.

I glanced at Nicholas, my stomach doing a little flip. My mom’s persistence was unsettling, but I knew Nicholas could handle it. He was calm, composed, like he’d been in situations like this before. He smiled, giving my mom a look that was both warm and measured.

“Well, if you don’t count the other guests at the hotel, sure,” he said, nodding slowly. “I guess it was fate.”

I could feel my mom’s eyes narrowing slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line as she studied him, but she didn’t push further. Her gaze flickered to me for a second, and I braced myself for the inevitable, the comments that would follow once this dinner was over.

My eldest brother, sensing the tension, leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Sounds like it was a fun weekend,” he teased, earning a chuckle from our brother and Dad. The change in atmosphere was almost palpable, the air lightening a little as the conversation shifted.

I cleared my throat and buried my mouth in a napkin, hoping to hide the look of embarrassment but eventually stifling a laugh. I was grateful for my brothers’ habit of joking about everything, no matter the situation. Nicholas shot them a grateful look, his smile never faltering as he continued to engage in the conversation with them. I felt a small tug of guilt for the way my mom was acting, but I knew there was nothing more I could do to change her attitude.

Dinner continued, with my mom carefully watching the exchange, but she had settled into a more neutral silence, only offering the occasional remark when necessary. The more Nicholas interacted with my dad and brothers, the more comfortable I grew. He was so good at keeping everything light, charming everyone around him, even pulling the rare chuckle from my mom. I could feel my heart swell with affection for him in those moments, despite everything. He wasn’t fazed by my mom’s coldness, nor did he seem discouraged by her questions. He was exactly who he said he was, and I couldn’t have been prouder.

When dinner finally ended, my mom offered a strained, “Thank you for coming, Nicholas,” but it was clear that the evening hadn’t gone exactly as she’d hoped. The forced politeness in her voice was unmistakable. I didn’t know what she expected from this dinner, but I could guess it wasn’t what had transpired.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. (Y/L/N),” Nicholas said smoothly, standing and shaking her hand. “And again, thank you for letting me stay here for a few days. Here, let me help you clear the table.”

My mom’s eyes flickered with surprise at the offer. “Oh, no need—”

But Nicholas was already standing, brushing past her with a confident smile. “It’s no trouble at all. I insist,” he said, his voice warm, and before I could protest, he was gathering plates from the table with a casual ease that made it clear this wasn’t the first time he’d done this. He moved with such a kind, unassuming confidence, not letting the awkwardness of my mom’s tension affect him.

As he began to clear the table, I followed him with my gaze, feeling a swell of admiration for him. He didn’t just talk the talk — he walked the walk. Even when my mom was at her most guarded, Nicholas was calm, generous, and helpful.

He moved around the kitchen with an easy confidence, as though he was a regular part of this family. I could feel my chest tighten with an unexpected sense of relief that this dinner definitely could've gone left quickly, and it miraculously didn’t. This was everything I’d hoped for: bringing him home, seeing him interact with my family, and watching him blend seamlessly into my world.

After a few moments, I joined my brothers and dad in the living room, collapsing onto the couch beside them. My eldest brother glanced over to me, giving me a little side-eye. “So, Nicholas, huh? He’s… cool, man,” he said, his tone a mix of sincerity and teasing.

I sighed, leaning back, trying to relax. “Yeah, he is.“ I looked over to our dad, “Dad, what did you think when mom told you she had offered the house to Nicholas?”

My dad paused, looking over at me with a thoughtful expression before his lips curled into a knowing grin. “Honestly? I thought it was a bit sudden, but if he’s a good guy, then that’s all that matters to me.” He shrugged, settling back into the couch. “I trust you to make the right call, sweetie. You’ve never been one to do something without feeling ready for it. And from what I saw tonight, he’s got his head on straight. You did good,” he smiled, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, letting me rest my head on him.

I smiled softly at my dad’s words, my heart swelling with appreciation for his support. My dad wasn’t good with vocalizing his emotions most of the time, but when he did… man, it was monumental. It was moments like these that I cherished the most — when he didn’t just offer a general statement but spoke with such certainty in my choices. His words held weight, the kind I always wished my mom would say.

My dad always knew how to make me feel seen, understood, and accepted — whether it was a quiet compliment or just a simple, knowing nod when my mom would have the complete opposite reaction. Her love was always wrapped in layers of criticism and expectation. She never seemed to be satisfied with the person I was. I knew she cared, but it often felt conditional, like there was always something more I needed to be, something else I needed to achieve to earn her approval.

I nodded slowly, grateful for the simple, grounding truth in his words. “Thanks, Dad. I needed to hear that.”

When Nicholas finally came into the living room, his movements fluid and easy, he gave me a smile. “All done in there,” he said, his voice soft and easy. He didn’t try to make a big deal out of it, but I could tell he felt good about having helped.

“Kitchen’s clean,” my mom entered the space, slinging a dish towel over her shoulder and plopping herself down into the loveseat, “Everybody’s free to do whatever now.”

My brothers excitedly stood up from the couch, shoving each other over furniture as they made their way to their rooms, shouting something about controllers. My dad stood up from the couch, “Good night, son.” He clapped Nicholas on the back, giving him a friendly nod before walking over to my mom. “Have a beer with me in the backyard?” He asked, reaching his hand out to her.

She sighed, her face growing into a reluctant smile as she took his hand in hers and stood up from the loveseat, “Goodnight, kids,” she softly smiled before following my dad out to the backyard.

Nicholas and I lingered for a moment, both of us standing in the middle of the living room. I slowly stepped toward him, resting my hands on his hips. “You…” I said, planting a slow kiss on his lips, “were amazing tonight.”

Nicholas grinned against my lips, his hands gently cupping my face as he deepened the kiss. “Like I said,” he murmured, pulling away just enough to look into my eyes. “We got this.”

After a quiet moment, we both turned toward my room. The house was quieter now, the only sounds coming from the distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint chatter of my parents outside, the occasional angry profanity from one of my brothers. 

I took his hand in mine, leading him, “Now that we got that out of the way… we can relax,” I sighed in relief.

As we entered my room, I closed the door behind us, the soft click of the latch filling the quiet space. I made sure to lock the door, ensuring our privacy, and turned on the air purifier I had by the door to drown out our voices.

The room felt warmer now, the tension from dinner dissipating in the calming intimacy of the moment. Nicholas took a few steps forward, stopping near the bed as he reached for his duffel bag, zipping it open and pulling out his toiletries and a clean pair of boxers. I watched as his arms flexed with every movement as he reached for his things, zipping up his bag and throwing it back down onto the floor.

I had caught his eye, flashing me a knowing smile as he stepped closer, resting my hands on my waist and pulling me flush against him. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze, a mixture of desire and affection. I felt my heart race as my fingertips grazed the fabric of his shirt, the heat from his body drawing me in.

“Is it our time now?” I asked quietly, leaning in to graze my lips over his.

He glanced over to the bedroom door, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, his hands moving down to grip my waist, “Your entire family’s still in the house,” he spoke, his voice low and husky.

Arching into his hold, I rested my hands on his chest, feeling his chest rise and fall under me. “Then we would just have to be very quiet now, wouldn’t we?” I asked teasingly, smiling into his lips before devouring him in a kiss.

Nicholas responded immediately, his hands sliding up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me closer, as if he couldn't get enough of the feeling of my lips on his. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if the weight of everything that had happened tonight was coming to a head in this one perfect moment. His lips moved against mine, warm and eager, but still tender, as though savoring every second of this quiet intimacy.

I let out a soft sigh, pressing closer into him, feeling the heat of his body against mine. He pulled away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against mine. "I’m serious, your family’s on the other side of that wall right there. You don’t care?" he murmured, his voice raspy with desire.

I smiled softly, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble against my skin. "Do you?" I teased, my voice a breathless whisper.

He was quiet for a beat, panting heavily, “A little.”

I pulled him into another quick kiss, pulling away to pout, “I’ll just have to play with myself then.”

Nicholas's eyes darkened with a mix of surprise and desire, his breath catching at my words. His hands tightened on my waist, pulling me even closer as if he was trying to make sure there was no space left between us. "You know I can’t let that happen," he murmured, his voice rough and urgent.

He leaned in again to kiss me, but I had the inspired idea of denying Nicholas my body, turning my cheek to him and releasing myself from his hold, slowly making my way to my bed and crawling toward the pillows, slowly turning around to lie down on my back.

He stood still for a moment, watching me with a mix of amusement and growing desire. His lips curved into a sly smile as he slowly stepped forward, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out to me, but I moved his hand away.

I smiled slyly, shifting into a comfortable position over the pillows, “Uh-uh, you didn’t want to play,” I whispered. “You’ll have to watch first.”

His mouth twitched into a smirk, and he slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the bed beside me, his gaze never leaving mine. The room seemed to pulse with the tension between us as he watched me intently. "Don’t tease," he murmured, his voice low and velvety, almost a warning.

I couldn't help but smile, my pulse quickening under his gaze. "You started it," I cooed, my fingers trailing down my body slowly, deliberately, as I maintained eye contact.

Slowly, I started to unbutton my blouse, taking my time. Nicholas's eyes followed my every movement, the intensity in his gaze growing with each slow, deliberate action. His breath hitched slightly, but he didn't say a word; he just watched, a mix of desire and anticipation clearly written on his face. His lips parted slightly, as if he were waiting for something to break, but I kept my pace steady, savoring the power I felt in this moment.

I glanced up at him once I'd unbuttoned the blouse halfway, catching the way his chest rose and fell, the muscles of his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. I smiled at the sight of his struggle, my fingers now sliding down to the waistband of my jeans. His breath was coming faster now, and I could tell he was about to reach for me. But I stopped him with a glance, shaking my head slowly. "Wait your turn," I whispered.

Nicholas clenched his fists, but his restraint only made me bolder. I finally pulled my blouse off, tossing it carelessly to the floor beside the bed. The cold air brushed my skin, perking my breasts awake. I watched his eyes darken with desire as I slowly ran my hands over my chest, feeling the warmth of the room and the growing heat between us.

He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. "Don’t punish me," he murmured, the words thick with frustration.

But I just smiled, enjoying every second of it. I slowly eased my pants down, tossing them aside and brushing my hand over my wet underwear, the other hand still kneading my breast. I let out a shaky breath, mindful to keep the noise down, as I touched myself. Nicholas shifted, his breathing now erratic, but he stayed seated on the edge of the bed. His body was tense, a mixture of yearning and restraint. He didn't reach for me, though his gaze never wavered.

My legs writhed up and down as I rubbed myself through my underwear, biting back quiet moans until I decided to spread my legs slowly as I pulled my underwear down, letting it wrap around my ankles. He clenched his jaw the moment he saw me completely bare in front of him, knitting his eyebrows together slightly and licking his lips. He let out a quiet growl as he watched me intently, his eyes tracing my fingers.

I guided my hand up to my mouth, gently sucking on my middle and ring fingers for a moment, wetting them mindfully and keeping eye contact with Nicholas all the while. I smiled up at him as I trailed my slickened fingers down my abdomen and had them land on my throbbing bud, slowly beginning to rub circles into myself.

"(Y/N)," he rasped, voice low and thick with desire, his eyes following my center.

I let out a small, satisfied laugh, inserting my fingers into my soaking hole, sharply inhaling at the sensation. I slowly started to pump my fingers, the quiet, rhythmic wet sound of my pleasure sending Nicholas into a quiet frenzy. A high-pitched moan escaped my lips, prompting me to stop squeezing my breast and instead move that hand up to my mouth to muffle my own moans.

The room seemed to grow hotter with each passing second, the air thick with anticipation. I could feel Nicholas's eyes on me, his gaze heavy and unwavering, filled with a mix of need and control. The weight of his attention was intoxicating, and I savored the dynamic between us, pushing myself to the edge of what I knew I could handle. The tension in me began to coil tighter and tighter the more I thrusted my fingers in and out, my breath hitching as I tried to stay quiet.

I started to writhe under my own hand, fluttering my eyes shut and breathing in heavy gasps. When I let my fingers traverse deeper, I opened my eyes to find Nicholas starting to reach out for me, his hand tracing the outline of my leg. The warmth of his hand against my skin sent a shiver through me, heightening the sensations that already had my body trembling, but I was dedicated to playing the game. I reached for his hand, guiding it to his throbbing member before pulling my hand away and continuing to push myself toward ecstasy.

As I picked up the pace of my fingers, I rolled over onto my stomach, spreading my thighs apart and lifting my hips into the air as I bucked my hips into my hand. “Fuck,” I whimpered into the pillow, breathing shakily.

The air in the room grew impossibly thick, the heat between us palpable as I let myself sink further into the sensation. My body trembled under the weight of my own touch, and I could feel Nicholas's eyes devouring me from where he sat. His restraint was unraveling; I could sense it in the way his breathing grew uneven, the way his fingers dug into the mattress as if trying to anchor himself. I glanced back over my shoulder, catching the wild hunger in his eyes as he watched my every movement. The tension in his jaw was evident, his body coiled as though ready to pounce, yet he remained rooted to the spot, his control hanging by a thread.

Every sound that escaped me seemed to pull him closer to the edge. I could feel the power I held in this moment, and it made my pulse race even faster. I slowed my movements deliberately, teasing myself as much as I was him, dragging out the moment until the ache inside me became unbearable.

l arched my back further, offering him an even more tantalizing view as my fingers continued their work. My body was alive with sensation, every nerve humming as I gave in to my own pleasure. The wet sounds of my fingers against my slick heat filled the room, mixing with the quiet gasps and muffled moans I tried to contain. Nicholas finally moved then, his resolve cracking as he reached out for me, his hand gripping the curve of my hip. His touch was firm but trembling, a testament to the war he was waging within himself. "You're driving me insane," he growled, his voice low and hoarse.

I smiled through my haze, turning my head just enough to meet his gaze. "That’s the point," I whispered breathlessly, my lips curving into a wicked grin.

He clenched his jaw again, his eyes narrowing as he pulled his hand away abruptly. The loss of his touch sent a shiver of anticipation through me, but before I could say anything, he shifted closer, hovering above my shoulder, his presence dominating the space around me.

He was so close now that I could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath hot against my skin as he leaned over me. "You wanna play?" he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper against my ear. "I can play, too."

Without another word, his hand replaced mine, his fingers delving into my wetness with a confidence and precision that made my whole body jolt. His other hand gripped my waist, holding me steady as he took control, the tension between us exploding into something raw and uncontrollable. A sharp cry escaped my lips before I could stop it, muffled quickly as I bit into the pillow. 

"Careful," he teased, his voice thick with desire. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear, now would we?"

I whimpered against the pillow, my body trembling as his fingers worked with relentless precision. The shift in control was dizzying, and I could feel my resolve melting away with each skilled movement of his hand. My breaths came in ragged gasps, the muffled sounds of my pleasure filling the small space around us.

Nicholas's lips brushed against the back of my neck, featherlight but enough to make my skin prickle with sensation. "You were so confident a minute ago," he murmured, his voice a dark, teasing rumble. "What happened?"

I tried to respond, but the words died in my throat as his thumb found my sensitive bud, circling it with deliberate, maddening slowness. A choked cry escaped me, and I pressed my face deeper into the pillow, desperate to muffle the sounds that threatened to betray me.

His low chuckle sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. "That's what I thought," he whispered, his fingers delving deeper, setting a rhythm that left me helpless against him.

I wasn’t sure what had gotten into Nicholas. He had never been so unapologetically in control. This was different. He was different. Patrick Bateman had indeed rubbed off on him, but not in the way I’d feared. Nicholas was channeling that sharp-edged confidence, the undercurrent of danger that made his portrayal of the character so magnetic. He wasn’t the blood-soaked psychopath, but he was the embodiment of control, of someone who knew exactly how much power they held and exactly how to use it.

And God, did I love it.

“Nic,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the low hum of the air purifier.

The name came out as both a plea and an acknowledgment — I saw what he was doing, and I wanted more. This new side of him, nurtured by the darker edge of his role, left me breathless. He wasn’t losing himself in that persona; he was borrowing some of it and using it to show me parts of himself he’d kept hidden before, or at least, never fully shown.

Every shift in his posture, every subtle tilt of his head, felt like part of a script he had written in his mind — a performance just for me. His role had shown him how seductive control could truly be. And he was applying that lesson now, each gesture crafted to keep me on edge.

“You thought you could tease me and get away with it?” he murmured, his tone darkly amused. 

The words sent a shiver through me, my skin prickling with anticipation. The mixture of his teasing words and skillful hands left me teetering on the edge, my body writhing beneath him as he took complete control.I arched my back further with a muffled whimper, unable to stop myself from pressing into his touch. His thumb pressed down against my sensitive bud, slow and deliberate. 

 He smiled against my neck, the curve of his lips unmistakable as he continued his torturous pace. He shifted closer, his chest now pressed against my back as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice softening for a moment. "I could watch you like this forever." The tenderness in his tone sent a shiver through me, cutting through the haze of desire with an ache that went deeper than physical. “Look at me,” he said softly.

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze as best I could, and the intensity in his eyes stole what little breath I had left. It was startling and irresistible. It was as if he was letting me see that beneath the playfulness and the quiet assertions, he was just as caught up in this as I was. The character he channeled was powerful and controlling, yes, but he’d never use that for anything but making this moment electric for both of us.

"Nic," I whispered, his name a plea on my lips.

He groaned softly, his movements faltering for just a second before he kissed the curve of my shoulder, his lips warm and lingering. "I've got you," he murmured against my skin, his voice a promise that sent my heart racing.

Nicholas's words resonated deep within me, grounding me in the moment as his hands continued their relentless, intoxicating rhythm. His presence was overwhelming, yet comforting — a perfect storm of passion and tenderness that had my body trembling with need. I couldn't hold back the quiet moans that escaped me, muffled as they were by the pillow beneath me. Every touch, every stroke, felt like it was pushing me closer to the edge, a precipice I both feared and craved. My hands gripped the sheets tightly, my knuckles white as I fought to keep my composure.

"Nicholas," I whimpered again, his name slipping from my lips like a prayer

 I turned my head just enough to catch another glimpse of him, his expression a mixture of concentration and raw desire. His jaw was tight, his brows drawn together in that way that made my heart clench. He was completely focused on me, his gaze flickering between my face and the movements of his hand. "You're perfect," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the haze of the moment. His free hand moved to my hip, steadying me as I writhed under his touch. "I could never get enough of you."

The vulnerability in his words, combined with the sheer intensity of his touch, pushed me closer to the breaking point. My breath hitched, my body arching into his hand as a wave of pleasure began to crest, threatening to consume me entirely.

"Please," I gasped, the words tumbling from my lips in a desperate plea. I didn't even know what I was asking for — more of him, less of him. I just needed something to tether me as the world spun out of control around me. His fingers stilled for a moment, and I almost cried out in frustration, but then he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear.

"Say it," he murmured, his voice a low, teasing growl that sent shivers down my spine. "Tell me what you need."

I turned my head to meet his gaze, my eyes heavy with desire and frustration. "You," I whispered, the word carrying all the weight of my longing.

Just then, the sound of footsteps passing down the hall broke through the haze, and both of us froze, the sudden intrusion grounding us in the reality of where we were. My pulse thundered in my ears as we waited, breathless. The tension in the room was electrifying as we held perfectly still, our breaths synchronized and shallow, ears straining for the faintest sound from the hallway.

Nicholas’s fingers slowed but continued their calculated movements. My body trembled under his touch, every nerve on edge, the thrill of being caught mingling with the raw intensity of the moment. I bit down on the pillow again, stifling the soft moans that escaped my lips as his fingers continued pumping inside me. There was a devilish smile across his face as he shushed me, his ears still perked toward the door. I caught a hint of amusement on his lips.

Underneath the surface, I recognized him — the Nicholas who was kind and thoughtful, who adored me. But now that adoration had grown claws, a sensual confidence that skimmed the line between teasing and challenging me. This was a Nicholas who wanted me to squirm under his careful attention, who wanted to see just how far I’d let him push before I begged him to go further.

The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, the footsteps resumed, retreating back down the hallway and fading into the distance. My body sagged with relief, but Nicholas wasted no time, his fingers resuming their maddening rhythm almost immediately.

"You like the risk, don't you?" he teased, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. His voice was low and gravelly, a dangerous edge to his words that made my skin prickle with anticipation. "You want them to hear, just a little."

I shook my head, my muffled protest lost against the pillow. But the truth was written all over my body — the way I pushed back against his hand, the way my breaths came faster, louder, despite my efforts to remain quiet.

"You can't lie to me," he murmured, his voice darkly amused. "Your body tells me everything."

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I felt my control slipping away entirely. The tension inside me coiled tighter, every nerve in my body alight with sensation. I was so close, teetering on the edge, and Nicholas knew it. His fingers moved faster now, his movements precise and relentless as he drove me closer and closer to the breaking point. I reached my hand behind me, clutching at his hair and pushing his head closer against me.

“You were so bold before, so sure of yourself, hmm? I want to hear you beg,” he said, his voice soft but commanding.

My breath hitched, my mind scrambling for words, but all that escaped was a shaky whimper. He chuckled, the sound low and wicked, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.

“Come on. Use your words,” he teased, his fingers resuming their maddening rhythm.

“Nic—” I gasped, his name spilling from my lips. “Please.”

“Please, what?” he asked, his tone infuriatingly calm, as if we weren’t teetering on the edge of something electric and uncontrollable. His other hand gripped my hip, steadying me as I writhed beneath him. “Say it. I want to hear exactly what you need.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body trembling as his fingers pushed me closer to the precipice. “I need you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I need you, Nic. Please.”

He hummed, as though considering my words, his fingers never faltering. “Better,” he said, his voice like molten honey. “But not quite good enough.”

He pulled his hand away suddenly, leaving me gasping and trembling, my body aching with need. I turned my head to look at him, my eyes wide with disbelief and frustration. His expression was infuriatingly smug, a crooked smile playing at his lips as he sat back, his gaze roaming over me like he was savoring the sight of my unraveling.

“You wanted to play games earlier, didn’t you?“ he said, his voice a low purr.

I let out a soft, frustrated sound, my hands gripping the sheets as I tried to regain some semblance of control. But Nicholas wasn’t having it. He leaned down, his breath hot against my skin as he pressed a featherlight kiss to my shoulder, then the nape of my neck, then the space just below my ear. His hand moved again, skimming down my side, his touch light enough to send shivers through me. My body arched instinctively, desperate for more, but he took his time, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow patterns over my skin.

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off you tonight?” he asked, his tone conversational, as if he weren’t driving me to the brink of madness. “Sitting next to you at the table with your family, watching you look so damn perfect, knowing I’d get to do this.”

He punctuated the last word by sliding his hand between my thighs, his touch deliberate and unrelenting. I let out a muffled cry, biting down on the pillow to stifle the sound. He smiled at my reaction, his eyes darkening with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm.

The words sent a thrill through me, my body responding to the possessiveness in his tone. I didn’t care that we were playing a dangerous game, that my family was just down the hall. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made me feel — completely claimed, completely consumed.

Nicholas leaned down, capturing my lips in a kiss that was both tender and searing, a promise of everything he intended to do to me. As his fingers resumed their relentless rhythm, I gave in to him entirely, letting him pull me under, letting him show me just how far he was willing to go to prove his dominance.

And as the tension inside me coiled tighter and tighter, I realized something: this new Nicholas, this teasing, commanding, utterly intoxicating version of him, was exactly what I’d been waiting for.

"Let go," he urged, his voice soft yet insistent.

The words were my undoing. With a sharp cry muffled against the pillow, the tension inside me snapped, and I was lost to the waves of pleasure that crashed over me. My body trembled violently under his touch, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as l clung to the sheets for dear life. Nicholas's movements slowed, his touch gentle now as he guided me through the aftershocks. His free hand moved to my back, his touch soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder.

"That's my girl," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of pride and tenderness.

I lay there, trembling and breathless, as the intensity of the moment began to subside. Nicholas didn't move away; instead, he stayed close, his hand tracing soothing circles over my back as his lips brushed against my shoulder. His presence was grounding, yet I could feel the lingering heat between us, the tension far from gone.

I rolled onto my side to face him, my fingers reaching out to trace the sharp line of his jaw. His expression softened as he looked at me, his gaze still dark with desire but tempered by something deeper — something achingly tender. I let my hand wander down his chest, the muscles beneath his shirt taut and warm under my touch.

"You," I murmured, my voice a little breathless. "I want you to feel as good as I do."

A small smile tugged at his lips, but he shook his head, his hand capturing mine and holding it gently. "Tonight was about you," he said softly, his voice steady despite the lingering rasp of arousal. "You seemed a little on edge since we got home; I just wanted to take care of you."

“But I—“ I started to protest, but he silenced me with a quick kiss, his lips firm but gentle, cutting off my words as his other hand came up to cradle the side of my face.

"You don't have to," he whispered against my lips, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Seeing you, hearing you, knowing I could make you feel that way. That's enough for me."

His words left me speechless, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me like a warm embrace. I could still feel the evidence of his restraint, the tension in his body as he held himself back, but his focus remained entirely on me. It wasn't just about control — it was about care, about putting me first in a way that made my heart ache with gratitude.

“But you’re visiting me this time,” I pouted, resting my hands over his chest, “I should be the one making you feel this way.”

Nicholas smiled softly, his hand covering mine as it rested against his chest. The heat of his skin radiated through his shirt, steady and grounding.

I moved my hand to cup his face, my thumb brushing over the apple of his cheek, “You give so much of yourself — to me, to your work. You deserve to let yourself receive, too.”

Nicholas closed his eyes briefly, his jaw tightening as if my words had struck a chord. When he opened them again, there was a softness in his gaze that made my chest ache. His hand covered mine, pressing it gently against his cheek. "I know," he murmured, his voice low and steady. His voice was barely audible when he spoke, a rasp that hinted at the emotions simmering beneath his carefully maintained facade. “It’s… hard to turn it off sometimes,” he admitted, his forehead still resting against mine.

I leaned closer, letting my forehead rest against his, my voice barely above a whisper. "Let me take some of that stress away.” My fingers traced the edge of his jaw, the sharp line softening as his expression wavered.

Nicholas’s lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping as he held my gaze. His hand came up to cover mine, still pressed to his cheek, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. His gaze darkened slightly, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. He shifted closer, his hand trailing from mine to cup the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss that was slow, tender, and all-encompassing. His lips moved against mine with a deliberate gentleness, as if savoring the moment, as if thanking me for the sentiment without needing to say a word. He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw working as though he was debating with himself.

It wasn’t that Nicholas wasn’t used to being vulnerable with me — he always was, since we first met. But after months of embodying a character like Patrick, a role that demanded emotional detachment and absolute control, letting go had become something almost foreign to him. He had coiled himself tightly, and I had to work to undo that tightness again.

When Nicholas opened his eyes again, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, but also trust. “Ok,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But only because it’s you.”

I smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently, pouring everything I felt into the soft press of my lips against his. “Always me,” I murmured, letting my words linger in the air as I began to slowly pull him down on top of me.

Nicholas allowed himself to be guided, his body hesitating only briefly before yielding to the pull of my hands. His weight settled against me, warm and grounding, and I could feel the tension still coiled tightly in his muscles. His breathing was uneven, his forehead resting against mine as though he was bracing himself for something he couldn't quite define.

I ran my fingers through his hair, my touch slow and deliberate, trying to ease some of the strain I could feel radiating from him. He tried to hide it as best he could, but filming had taken a toll on him. He had poured himself completely into the role. I could only imagine how tough it must be to have yourself become emotionally detached for your work. Then, to go home to holiday parties and then visit your girlfriend’s family for the first time. It must’ve been stressful for him, even though he tried so hard to make it seem like nothing about him had changed.

His eyes fluttered shut, the vulnerability in that small movement breaking my heart. I threaded my fingers down the nape of his neck, tracing the tension there. His jaw tightened for a moment, but then he nodded, the tension in his shoulders softening just slightly. I leaned up to kiss him again, slow and tender, pouring every ounce of reassurance I could into the press of my lips against his. My hands moved down his body, tracing the lines of his chest and stomach, feeling the tension start to unravel beneath my touch.

Nicholas let out a shaky exhale, his hands finding their way to my waist, holding on as though I was his anchor. I pressed my lips to his jaw, trailing soft kisses down his neck and over his collarbone as my hands worked to remove his hoodie. As each layer of fabric fell away, I kissed the newly exposed skin, savoring the way his breathing deepened, the way his hands began to relax their grip. When the sweater underneath was finally discarded, I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.

"Feel that?" I murmured, meeting his gaze. "You're still here."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his hands sliding up to cradle my face. "God, I’ve missed you so fucking much," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "I’m so in love with you," I said simply. "Every part of you, inside and out.”

That seemed to break something in him, and he kissed me again, this time with a raw, unguarded intensity that left me breathless. His hands roamed my body, but there was no urgency, no need to control or give, only a quiet acceptance as he let himself feel.

I rolled us over in bed, straddling Nicholas as he lay under me. I kissed him deeply, pouring every ounce of my love and understanding into the soft press of my lips. His hands, though trembling slightly, rested on my hips, but he didn't try to guide or take control. He was letting himself simply be — letting me take the lead, and it warmed my heart to know he trusted me that much.

I let my hands trail down his chest, fingers grazing the taut muscles of his stomach. His skin was warm under my touch, and I could feel the tension slowly ebbing from his body as I took my time exploring every inch of him. I leaned down, pressing soft kisses to his chest, my lips lingering over his heartbeat. I smiled against his skin, my hands sliding lower until I reached the waistband of his jeans. I glanced up at him for permission, and he gave me a small nod, his lips parting as his breathing quickened. Slowly, I undid the button and zipper, my movements deliberate and unhurried. I wanted him to feel every moment, to know this was for him and him alone.

As I eased his jeans down, I pressed kisses to the newly exposed skin, savoring the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under my touch. When he was finally bare before me, I let my gaze linger on him, taking in every detail. He was beautiful, vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache with love and admiration. God, I missed him so much.

"You're perfect," I whispered, my eyes meeting his. The raw emotion in his gaze made my chest tighten, but I didn't let it distract me from my goal — to bring him peace, even if just for tonight, even though he still had to step back into character again right after this trip.

I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his hip before trailing my lips lower. Nicholas's breath hitched, his hands gripping the sheets, but he didn't try to stop me. He let out a low, shuddering moan as I took him into my mouth, my lips and tongue explored him. I kept my movements slow and deliberate, designed to drive away every lingering trace of stress and tension.

He covered his mouth with his inner elbow, mindful of where we were. His sounds of pleasure were quiet, restrained, but I could feel the way his body responded to every touch, every kiss. He was letting go, piece by piece, and it filled me with a sense of purpose I couldn't put into words.

I let my lips and hands work in tandem, slowly unraveling every knot of tension that Nicholas had been carrying. His breathing grew heavier, his quiet groans muffled as he pressed his arm to his mouth. I watched him struggle to keep himself restrained, to stay mindful of the thin walls separating us from my family, but I didn't want him to hold back — not with me.

"Let it out, Nic," I whispered against his skin, my voice soft but commanding. "No one else matters right now.”

His arm fell away, reaching for the pillow under his head and burying himself under it as a deep, desperate sound escaped him. It wasn't just a moan — it was a release, raw and unfiltered, as though he'd been holding it in for far too long. His head fell back against the mattress, his eyes fluttering shut as his body surrendered completely to my touch.

"(Y/N)," he rasped, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "I-I can't..." His hands gripped the sheets tightly, his knuckles white as he tried to ground himself. He pulled the pillow away slightly, "You're gonna ruin me," he groaned quietly, his tone a mix of exasperation and awe.

I smiled softly, trailing my lips back up his body. "Good," I whispered against his skin.

His hands moved instinctively to my hips as I straddled him, his touch trembling but firm. He looked up at me with wide, glassy eyes, his vulnerability laid bare in a way that made my chest tighten. He wasn't just undone — he was mine, and he was letting himself be seen in a way that few ever had.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered as I grabbed him by the base of his shaft and lowered myself on top of him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips parted as he panted softly beneath me. "Do you know how much I love you? How much you mean to me?"

He nodded his head, his hands gripping my thighs as he entered me. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he choked out, his voice rough.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, leaning down to press my forehead against his, slowly starting to ride him "You'll never have to find out," I whispered. "I’m here."

Nicholas's hands trembled against my skin, his voice breaking as he whispered, "I need you. So much."

As I moved against him, his control unraveled further, his voice rising as he called out my name in a broken, desperate tone that sent a shiver down my spine. I guided him through every wave of pleasure, my hands and body coaxing him toward release as he gave himself over entirely to the moment.

When his body tensed under me, he buried his face into the pillow again, letting out a muffled groan as he clutched at the pillow like it was a lifesaver. I felt the evidence of his climax fill me completely, continuing to slowly ride him out as he came, his hands digging into my hips as his body violently shuddered under me. 

He laid beneath me, utterly spent and trembling. I dismounted him, lying beside him and pulling the blankets over us, curling up against his side as he buried his face in my hair. His arms wrapped around me tightly, his breathing uneven as he struggled to come back to himself.

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes closed.

I brushed my fingers through his damp hair, letting the strands slip softly between my fingertips. His body was still trembling slightly as he held me close, his breath warm against my temple. “I know sometimes all I do is take,” I murmured, my voice soft and filled with affection, “but you’ve taught me it feels just as good to give.”

Nicholas pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his arms tightening around me as though he couldn’t bear to let me go. For a moment, we lay in comfortable silence, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of us. His chest rose and fell beneath me, steadying as the aftershocks of the moment began to subside. As we lay there, tangled together under the blankets, I felt a profound sense of peace settle over me, letting our breaths lull me to sleep.

I awoke in Nicholas’s grasp, his head under my chin as his head rested on my chest, the position different from the one we had drifted to sleep in. The room was bathed in soft, muted light, the faint glow of the early morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains I had swapped out the day before. The air purifier hummed softly in the background, a gentle white noise that blended seamlessly with the sound of Nicholas’s deep, even breaths. His body was warm against mine, his arms still wrapped tightly around my waist as though he’d been holding onto me even in his sleep.

I glanced down at him, my fingers lightly brushing through his tousled hair. He looked peaceful, his features softened in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks. His lashes rested against his cheeks, and his lips, slightly parted, moved faintly with each exhale. I smiled to myself, unable to resist tracing the curve of his jawline with my fingers. As I watched him sleep, I had the urge of wanting to greet him with breakfast in bed, the first way I would spoil him today.

The thought of surprising Nicholas with breakfast in bed made me smile. He had spent so much of last night making sure I felt loved and cared for, and now it was my turn to do the same for him. Slowly, I began to slip out from under his arms, careful not to wake him. He stirred slightly, his grip on my waist loosening, but his eyes remained closed, and his breathing evened out again. I tiptoed across the room, pulling on the pajamas I had left draped over the chair the day before that I never had the chance to put on.

The house was quiet as I crept down the hallway toward the kitchen, the early morning light casting a warm glow across the walls. My mom was always an early riser, so I half-expected to find her there, but to my relief, the kitchen was empty. I couldn’t imagine the teasing I’d endure if she caught me sneaking around this early for Nicholas.

I set to work quickly, gathering ingredients for pancakes and eggs, knowing they were his favorite. As I cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them, I couldn’t help but feel a warmth in my chest, a deep contentment that came from doing something simple yet meaningful for him. Every step, from pouring the batter onto the hot griddle to flipping the pancakes, felt like an act of love, a way to show him how much he meant to me.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm maple syrup began to fill the kitchen, and I plated everything carefully, arranging the pancakes, eggs, and fruit just so. I grabbed a tray from the cabinet, setting the plate and mug on it. It was simple, but I hoped it would make him feel special.

As I carried the tray back down the hall, I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Nicholas was used to grand gestures and lavish displays in his world, and while this was far more humble, it came straight from my heart. I just hoped it would mean as much to him as it did to me.

When I pushed the bedroom door open and closed it back with my foot, balancing the tray carefully, I found him still curled up on the bed, his head nestled against the pillow where I’d been. The sight of him, so peaceful and unguarded, made my heart swell.

“Nicholas,” I called softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. I brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, my fingers lingering against his warm skin. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

He stirred at my touch, his eyes fluttering open slowly. A sleepy, lopsided smile spread across his face as he blinked up at me. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick and raspy.

“Good morning,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I made you breakfast.”

His eyes flicked to the tray, and his smile widened, lighting up his face. “You’re spoiling me already?” he teased, rubbing his eyes open and propping himself up on one elbow.

“You deserve it,” I said simply, leaning down to kiss him softly before reaching for the tray. I placed it on his lap as he sat up in bed, watching as he took in the neatly arranged plate and the little touches I’d added.

“This is perfect,” he said, his voice soft with genuine appreciation. He picked up the fork, taking a bite of the pancakes, and let out a low hum of approval. He grinned, taking another bite before setting the fork down and pulling me closer. “Thank you,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “For everything. Last night, this morning… for just being you.”

I smiled, resting my forehead against his, kissing the corner of his eye, “Always,” I whispered, feeling a sense of peace settle over me again as we shared this quiet, intimate moment together. It wasn’t grand or extravagant, but it was us — and that was more than enough.

I made my way over to my closet, starting to plan out today’s outfit. Thankfully, it wasn’t as cold as the day before, a nice and sunny 57 degrees Fahrenheit, so I made sure to choose a light sweater.

“Hey, come here,” I heard Nicholas softly call out to me.

I turned around to see Nicholas cutting up a piece of pancake, stabbing it into the fork before holding it out lightly as if it might fall off. I smiled at the sight, crossing the room toward him and taking a seat next to him on the bed. Nicholas’s lips curled into a playful smirk, his eyes glinting with warmth.

“I don’t want to enjoy these alone,” he said, holding the fork steady.

I leaned in, opening my mouth slightly as he guided the fork to my lips. The warmth of the pancake, combined with the sweet syrup and buttery richness, made me hum in delight.

“It tastes sweeter having you feed it to me,” I said after swallowing.

Nicholas laughed softly, setting the fork down for a moment and reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You have no idea how much I love this,” he murmured, his voice lower now, carrying a hint of emotion.

“This?” I asked, tilting my head slightly, feeling the warmth of his gaze settle over me.

“This,” he repeated, gesturing vaguely between us, the tray, and the bed. “Being here with you. It’s everything. It’s so normal and perfect and… exactly what I needed.”

His words made my chest tighten with affection. I reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently, “As long as you’re here, I want to make every moment count.”

Nicholas’s smile softened, his fingers curling around mine as he brought my hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to my knuckles. For a moment, we just sat there, the morning light streaming through the window and bathing us in its soft glow.

“So,” I began, breaking the quiet. “I have a pretty busy day planned for us, so why don’t I get ahead and hop in the shower while you finish eating up?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair before returning to my closet to finish planning my outfit.

I pulled out ol’ reliable, a plain shirt and jeans, setting it down on my desk chair, before making my way to my en suite bathroom. The morning air in the room was cool against my skin as I stepped inside, shut the door behind me, and switched on the vent fan to filter out the steam I knew I’d cause with my warm shower.

The bathroom was cozy, with soft white tiles and a single recessed shelf in the shower that was perfect for propping up my phone. I turned on the water, adjusting it until it was just the right temperature — hot enough to warm myself up from the night’s cold A/C air but not too hot to where I might boil myself alive.

As steam began to fill the room, I quickly set up my phone on the shelf, opening Hulu to catch up on the latest episode of the irreverent comedy show I was watching. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I watched tv in the shower because I truly loved watching it or just because I had grown accustomed to having the constant chatter in the background while I worked through my hair, like I was in some sort of personal hair salon.

The water cascaded over me as I pulled back the curtain slightly and stepped into the full shower, the heat soaking into my skin and relaxing my muscles. I tilted my head back, letting the water run through my hair as the show played quietly in the background. The sound of the dialogue mixed with the steady rhythm of the water and the constant hum of the vent, creating a soothing atmosphere.

Just as I reached for the shampoo, I heard the bathroom door creak open. I knew it was Nicholas, so I didn’t mind at all, continuing to lather my hands up with shampoo and starting to work at my hair. In my head, I thought maybe he’d use the toilet or brush his teeth after finishing up his breakfast, so when I felt the curtain pull back slightly, I opened my eyes.

Nicholas stood there, leaning casually against the edge of the shower, his smirk both playful and mischievous. Steam swirled around him, softening the lines of his face as he met my gaze.

"You have your phone in here?" he asked, his tone teasing as his eyes flicked to the shelf where my show was still playing.

“I like the noise,” a laugh escaped me as I rinsed the shampoo from my hair.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly before stepping closer. His hands reached for the hem of his t-shirt, and I watched as he pulled it off in one smooth motion. He stepped out of his jeans and boxers, pulling the curtain back more to join me. He stepped in, letting the hot water hit his skin. I tried to feign indignation, but the sight of him standing there, drops of water trickling down his chest, made it impossible to focus. His eyes flicked to my phone again, knitting his eyebrows at the show for a bit. It was almost like he was feigning interest, hiding his true intentions.

I worked the conditioner through my hair then proceeded to reach for the body wash. Nicholas stopped me, reaching for the bottle and the exfoliating glove on the wall, slipping it on. “You made breakfast for me. Can I return the favor?” He asked with a smirk.

I didn’t want to protest. The first time he washed my body during our weekend in Los Angeles, his touch was so tender. I didn’t want to deny myself that feeling again. Though, he had the teeniest glint of mischief in his eyes this time around, one that sent the heat through my cheeks.

I nodded my head, swallowing as I felt my pulse quicken watching him squeeze some of the body wash onto the glove. The rich, floral scent mixed with the steam, filling the small space. I stepped back slightly to give him room, though the shower was small enough that we were still pressed close. He motioned for me to turn around. I obliged, anticipating the moment I’d feel the glove against my skin.

Nicholas started at my shoulders, his touch firm but gentle as he worked the glove in slow, deliberate circles over my skin. The sensation was a mix of soothing and electrifying, his movements almost hypnotic. The exfoliating texture heightened every stroke, sending tingles racing across my body as he worked his way down my back.

"You've got tension here," he murmured, his voice low and close to my ear as he lingered at the curve where my neck met my shoulders. "When was the last time someone took care of you like this?"

"Hmm," I hummed, my breath hitching slightly. "Can't say I remember. Maybe six months ago,” I spoke, a tinge of teasing behind my words, knowing that was the last time he had seen me in the shower.

His lips ghosted over the damp skin just below my ear, not quite a kiss, but enough to make my breath catch. "I’m sorry, baby," he murmured. "Guess I'll just have to make up for it."

I bit my lip, my heart pounding in my chest as his hands moved lower, the glove brushing along the dip of my spine, down to the small of my back. His free hand moved up to my shoulder, pushing them forward into the tiled wall while my hips stuck out behind me. Nicholas's touch lingered as his hand guided me, my palms pressing flat against the cool tiles. The contrast between the hot water cascading over me and the rough yet gentle movement of the glove sent a shiver down my spine.

His free hand lingered around my neck, pulling on the necklace he had given me all those months ago, the one with his initial on the back of it. His fingertips toyed with the chain, tangling themselves in it. The slight tug of the necklace sent a ripple of sensation through me, a reminder of the connection it symbolized. His fingers teased along the chain, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin at the base of my neck. The cool metal against my damp skin was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body and the steam swirling around us.

"You still wear this every day," Nicholas murmured, his voice rough, filled with something deeper than desire. It was possessive, reverent.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Always."

“Good." The single word was laced with satisfaction, his grip on the chain firming slightly as he leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, my breath hitching as I pressed my forehead against the tiles. My fingers curled against the tiles, desperate for something to hold onto as he pressed closer, his erection pressing against the small of my back. I could feel the heat of him behind me, his body a solid, grounding presence that made the rest of the world fall away.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my entire body. "How much I want you?"

I nodded again, my voice caught in my throat. The glove was forgotten as it fell to the floor with a soft thud, his now-bare hand slipping around my waist to rest on my stomach, holding me in place as he leaned in further, his chest pressing against my back. His lips trailed down the side of my neck, alternating between feather-light kisses and gentle nips that made my breath catch.

"Six months without you," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, cutting through the sound of the water. His movements slowed, deliberate, as though savoring every second. "I don’t know how I survived."

The weight of his words made my breath hitch, my body responding instinctively as his touch continued its maddening rhythm. The hand on my stomach moved lover, brushing over my sensitive spot.

I let out an audible moan, not afraid of holding myself back with the water drowning out our noises now. He trailed kisses along my neck, his touch becoming more insistent as his hand continued to rub me. His lips grazed my shoulder as he pressed closer against me. I could feel the firmness of him against my back as his hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of skin as though memorizing it all over again.

The steam in the shower only added to the haze between us, the air thick with heat and unspoken promises. The hand that rested against my hip came up to tilt my head back toward him. His lips found mine in a kiss that was both demanding and tender, leaving me breathless as I pressed back into him. Without breaking the kiss, Nicholas reached for my phone on the shelf, his movements confident and deliberate.

I pulled away slightly, my brows furrowing as I realized what he was doing. “Nic... what are you-"

“It’s okay; it’s only us," he murmured, his voice soft but commanding. His eyes met mine, dark with a mix of desire and sincerity. "Just something to tide me over for when I leave back to New York."

He paused the show and exited the app, his thumb hovering over the camera icon waiting for my nod. My pulse raced as I hesitated, but the vulnerability and care in his gaze melted any resistance. Slowly, I gave a small nod, my heart pounding as he tapped the screen and hit record, angling the phone to capture the two of us.

The atmosphere thickened as Nicholas positioned the phone carefully, the steam curling around us. The soft glow from the shower light reflected off the droplets clinging to our skin. His hand returned to my hip, steadying me as he pressed closer. I could feel the weight of his gaze even without looking at him, the knowledge that he was capturing every detail sending a shiver through me. The only other times I’ve had a camera pointed at me during moments like this was when Nicholas and I would have our private FaceTime calls in the dead of night, but never recording.

He shifted slightly, positioning himself, the anticipation making every second stretch. When he finally pushed into me, the sensation was overwhelming — a mix of fullness, heat, and undeniable connection that made my breath catch. My hands pressed against the cool tiles for balance, the contrast only heightening the sensations coursing through me.

The rhythm he set was deliberate and unhurried, his movements slow and deep as though savoring every second. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, the steam and heat making it impossible to tell where my body ended and his began. The weight of the camera, the idea of being seen through his eyes, added an edge to the experience, amplifying every sensation and emotion.

One of Nicholas’s hands slid up my stomach, his fingers brushing over my necklace before continuing upward to cradle my throat lightly. The pressure was gentle, his thumb grazing the pulse that beat wildly beneath his touch, a silent acknowledgment of the trust between us. His other hand steadied me at the waist, guiding me with a firm but loving grip that left no doubt of his control.

Nicholas leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as his pace quickened slightly, the tension between us building with every movement. His breath was warm and uneven, his low groans vibrating against my skin and sending jolts of pleasure through me. I could feel his restraint, the way he held himself back, letting the moment stretch into something unforgettable.

The camera was still, its presence both grounding and exhilarating as I let myself be seen through its lens. The vulnerability of it, the rawness, made every touch and movement feel magnified, every emotion laid bare. Time seemed to stand still, the outside world fading away as we lost ourselves in each other.

Eventually, Nicholas reached for the phone, holding it in one hand as he pushed me further into the wall with the other, focusing the lens on his rhythm as he thrusted in and out of me. The lens captured the curve of my back, the way his hips met mine with each deliberate thrust, the beads of water gliding down our skin. His hand tightened on my waist, grounding me as l arched instinctively, pressing closer to him. The camera wasn't just documenting — it felt like an extension of his gaze, amplifying the way he took in every detail of our connection.

My breaths quickened, the intensity of his movements building with each second. His hand trailed up my back, tracing the ridges of my spine, before settling on my shoulder and pulling me back toward him, my head falling back on his shoulder. He shifted the phone around in front of us, switching to selfie mode as he recorded our faces, his groans mingling with the sound of my ragged breathing.

Suddenly, my phone started to ring, cutting our video short and displaying my mom’s name across the screen brightly. The vibration of my phone startled me, its muffled ringtone cutting through the steamy haze. My body tensed instinctively, but Nicholas didn't falter, his thrusts deep and deliberate as he tightened the grip on my phone.

He glanced at the screen, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. "Answer it," his voice rasped, low and commanding.

My eyes widened, my heart racing for a different reason now. "Nicholas, no-"

His hand tightened on my hip, his movements slowing but not stopping as he held the phone up to me, the name on the screen glaring back at me. “Answer,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I hesitated, my body trembling under his hold. I’m not sure what had changed within Nicholas, becoming even more maddeningly bold than he already was and increasingly more reckless with each of our hookups. I knew that filming had shifted something inside him, forcing him to explore a new side of himself that he held back. Maybe he just wanted to get back at my mom for her subtle snide comments all through dinner last night. Truthfully, I didn’t care for either reason — I was completely at the mercy of this new side of him, no matter the cause. Like I said, he could get me to do anything.

Nicholas’s thrusts deepened, his gaze locked on mine with an intensity that made it impossible to deny him. With trembling fingers, I accepted the call, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hello?” My voice was shaky, breathless, but I tried to steady it as much as possible. I was praying that the sound of the water running would be loud enough to mask my shakiness.

“Hey, sweetie,” my mom’s voice muffled through my ear. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, not at all,” I managed, forcing a lightness into my tone despite the heat rushing through me. Nicholas didn’t stop. If anything, the pace of his movements remained maddeningly steady, his hand on my waist firm, holding me in place as he thrust deeply, deliberately. “I’m just in the shower.”

I clung to the edge of the shower tile with one hand, the other holding onto Nicholas’s arm wrapped around my stomach as though it were the only lifeline keeping me grounded in reality. My mom’s voice filtered through, her casual warmth starkly contrasting the chaos Nicholas was wreaking on my body.

“I just wanted to tell you that I think maybe we should hold a small cookout today so the rest of the family can meet Nicholas before the New Year’s party tomorrow,” she said, oblivious to the tremor in my voice. “I know you might’ve made plans with him already, but how does that sound? I don't think he’ll mind. Is he awake?”

The mention of his name triggered Nicholas to lean in, his breath hot against my temple as he wickedly grinned into my skin. I opened my mouth to reply, but a sharp thrust from Nicholas stole my breath, forcing me to press my lips tightly together to stifle the sound threatening to escape. His free hand slid up my stomach, grazing my ribs as his movements grew more deliberate, testing my resolve.

“Answer her,” he murmured, his voice so quiet only I could hear it. His words sent a shiver down my spine, my body tightening under his touch.

I mustered every ounce of control in me to reply to her question, “I don’t know. He was still in bed by the time I came in to shower,” which wasn’t a total lie. It was the truth, before he decided to join me in the shower.

“Well, just let him know when you’re done,” my mom replied, her voice cheerful and completely unaware of my predicament.

Nicholas’s hand slid lower, his fingers grazing dangerously close to the spot where I was already struggling to hold myself together. My breath hitched audibly, and I had to cover it with a cough, turning my face slightly to avoid letting any sound betray me. He chuckled softly against my ear, his amusement sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.

“Yeah, okay,” I managed, gripping the phone tightly as Nicholas shifted his angle, driving me closer to the edge. I wasn’t even aware of what I had just agreed to. “Bye, Mom.”

Nicholas didn’t even wait for my mom to say it back before ending the call and setting the phone back down on the shelf. As soon as he placed the phone down, his movements became unrelenting, his pace quickening and his grip on my waist tightening. He pressed his chest firmly against my back, and turned my head back to face him.

“Good girl,” he murmured against my lips, his voice dripping with a mix of pride and desire. His hands moved possessively over my body, as if he needed to feel every inch of me to confirm that I was his.

The heat in the shower was nothing compared to the fire coursing through my veins. Every movement of his hips against mine sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, leaving me breathless and trembling. Nicholas’s grip on my waist tightened, his pace becoming deliberate and insistent, as though he wanted to draw out every last ounce of sensation from this moment. The intensity of his touch was almost too much, yet not enough, and I arched into him, needing more.

“Nicholas,” I gasped, his name a plea on my lips. My hands reached back, clutching at his hair as I turned my head further, capturing his mouth in a desperate, heated kiss. He groaned into my mouth, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he regained control, his movements growing rougher, more desperate.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against my lips, his tone a promise, a vow. “Just let go.”

His words unraveled me. The tension that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside me snapped, and I was lost, the waves of pleasure crashing over me in a blinding crescendo. My body trembled violently in his arms, and Nicholas held me tightly, his own breathing ragged as he followed me over the edge moments later.

The world seemed to tilt as we clung to each other, the sound of the water cascading around us grounding us in the aftermath. Nicholas’s hands were gentle now, smoothing over my sides and back as he pressed soft kisses to my shoulder and neck. My head lolled back against his chest, my breaths coming in shallow, uneven bursts as I tried to steady myself.

“What was that?” I managed to ask through my panting, referring to his sudden emboldened and risky behavior.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound a low rumble that vibrated against my back. He kissed the curve of my shoulder, his lips lingering as if savoring the moment before finally speaking. “What was what?” he teased, his voice smug yet tender.

I turned my head slightly to give him a pointed look, though the effort was half-hearted at best. My body was still trembling from the intensity of it all, and his arms around me felt too comforting to fully protest.

“You know what I’m talking about,” I said, my tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Just last night, you hesitated hooking up because my family was still in the house and now you had me answer the phone while you were still inside me,” I spoke, not able to bite back the smile on my lips.

Nicholas grinned, his smug expression tempered by the playful glint in his eyes. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his arms tightening around me slightly. "I don't know what came over me," he said, though his tone betrayed no remorse. “I guess I was just sick of people interrupting us. Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’d do it.”

I watched as he reached for my phone again, unlocking it with my face and wrapping his arms around me, settling the base of my phone on my stomach as he rested his chin on my shoulder, swiping through to the Photos app.

I raised an eyebrow, twisting slightly in his arms to look at him. “What are you doing now?” I asked, my voice tinged with playful suspicion.

“Just making sure I have a copy,” Nicholas said smoothly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk. His fingers worked deftly, and within seconds, the video was sent to his phone. “For safekeeping.” His grin widened as he set my phone down on the shelf and tightened his arms around me. “Don’t worry; it’s safe with me. No one else will ever see it.”

I let out a soft laugh, leaning back against him as the water continued to cascade over us. “I hope not. I’d hate for your manager to have to deal with that kind of PR disaster.”

Nicholas chuckled, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of my shoulder. “Trust me, baby, no one’s getting their hands on this. It’s just something to keep me sane while I’m stuck filming without you.”

His words were teasing, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity in his tone that made my heart ache just a little. I turned in his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and studying his face. “You know I’d visit you every day if I could,” I said softly.

“I know,” he murmured, his hands settling on my hips. His expression softened, the mischief in his eyes giving way to something deeper, more tender. “But you’ve got your own life… work, family. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from that.”

For a moment, I wanted to open my mouth and tell him he could, but fantasy aside, was I ready to leave home, Nicholas or no Nicholas? The question lingered in my mind as Nicholas’s arms tightened slightly around me, his warmth grounding me against the stream of water. The idea of moving out had been an ever-present thought, especially ever since I moved back in with my family after college. Even though it was perfectly normal for other graduates to be in my situation, I still couldn’t help but feel… behind.

I wanted to leave, but every time I brought up the idea, my mom always managed to convince me otherwise. She wasn’t overtly cruel; that wasn’t her style, but she had this way of making me feel like I couldn’t function without her, like I was incomplete, ill-equipped, fragile.

“So, what did you end up roping us into with your mom today?” Nicholas’s question pulled me out of my thoughts.

I shook the thoughts away, sort-of remembering the conversation with my mom on the phone.

Nicholas and I finished our shower and got ready — styling our hair, picking our outfits, brushing our teeth, doing any finishing touches. Seeing Nicholas maneuver through the pastel-pink chaos of my room and bathroom was unexpectedly… hot. There he was, all broad shoulders and defined muscles, looking every bit like he belonged on a movie set or gracing a magazine cover, surrounded by a room that looked like a cupcake had thrown up in it. It was like he was my own personal Ken doll. He leaned down to tie his boots at the foot of my bed, his shirt stretching tight across his back, the quilt beneath him almost ridiculous in comparison. It was like watching a warrior prince step into a fairy tale cottage — out of place, yet somehow fitting in a way that shouldn’t make sense.

We emerged from my bedroom and made our way over to the living room, my mom, already ready for the day, and my eldest brother, still in his pjs, lounging around watching the tv.

My mom whipped her head, smiling, “There you guys are.”

I smiled, greeting my mom with a kiss on the cheek, while Nicholas gave her a polite hug, shooting me a knowing look over her shoulder. Blushing, I looked down at my feet. “By what time do you want us to be back for the cookout?” I asked.

My mom looked at her watch, “4-ish? Your dad will turn the grill on by then.”

“Okay,” I nodded my head, purposefully keeping our conversation short so she wouldn’t feel compelled to make any snide remarks. “We’ll be back by then.” I took Nicholas by the hand and smacked the back of my brother’s head on our way out, our usual form of greeting each other.

Nicholas followed me out to the car, his hand casually resting on the small of my back as we walked. The sun was shining, the air crisp and cool, a perfect day to explore. I had a plan that was simple yet meaningful: take Nicholas to the only bookstore in town, then my favorite coffee shop. Originally, I had also wanted to take him back to the island and show him one of my favorite spots near the dunes, but since we had that cookout now… I guess I wouldn’t be able to show him.

I figured the bookstore, to start, would perfectly ease us into the day. Nicholas and I loved our books; maybe I could spoil him and buy him a couple for him to take back with him to New York. The bookstore itself wasn’t flashy; it had just opened last year, our town’s first bookstore in 10 years, and I had been going almost every week since. In a way, it held a particularly special place in my heart because it’s where I had bought my used copy of White Oleander, the book Nicholas had asked me about at the beach when we first met.

“I thought we’d start at this cute little bookstore,” I said as we got in the car, glancing at him with a small smile. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s got character.“

Nicholas’s eyes lit up with interest as he fastened his seatbelt.

The drive wasn’t long, but Nicholas spent most of it looking out the window, pointing out little details that caught his attention: the ridiculous amount of palm trees like he was back in Los Angeles, the colorful murals on the sides of buildings, and the fact our town only had one two-lane highway compared to the countless ones in LA or New York. His enthusiasm for the small-town scenery made me smile.

When we pulled into downtown, I scanned the one-way streets for parking. Luckily, there was a spot just a few shops down the road from the bookstore, an absolute win. I quickly parallel parked, switching the car off and exiting. I reached for Nicholas’s hand as he rounded the car, quickly tugging him toward the bookstore.

The store was warm and inviting, with wooden shelves packed tightly with books, their spines creating a patchwork of colors. The faint scent of aged paper and cedar hung in the air, mingling with the aroma of fresh coffee from the tiny café tucked in the corner.

Nicholas stopped just a few steps inside, taking it all in with wide eyes. “This place is adorable,” he said, pulling out his phone. He snapped a photo of the entrance, then another of the cozy seating area near the front. 

I chuckled, nudging his arm. “Wait until you see the rare books section in the back. It’s my favorite spot.”

As we made our way through the store, Nicholas couldn’t stop snapping pictures. He took close-ups of quirky book covers, candid shots of the well-worn wooden floors, and even a selfie with one of the whimsical murals painted on the wall near the children’s section. I couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. It was endearing to see him so excited over something so simple.

We wandered down aisle after aisle, pausing every so often to thumb through books that caught our attention. Nicholas picked up a collection of photography essays and flipped through it, occasionally showing me a particularly striking image. I, in turn, found a few old poetry collections and shared snippets of my favorite lines with him.

When we reached the rare books section, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. The shelves were filled with leather-bound tomes and first editions, each one encased in glass or displayed with care. Nicholas lingered over a signed copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, his fingers hovering just above the glass.

“No fucking way,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s signed,” he looked at it with awe, bending down a bit to get a better look. “I was Atticus in my high school’s production of To Kill A Mockingbird, y’know?”

“You were?” I asked with a smile, carefully leaning against a nearby bookshelf, enthused to hear another anecdote about his life.

Nicholas nodded, his eyes still glued to the book. “Yeah. I was a junior. It was my first big role. I was so nervous during the auditions, but my teacher said I had the gravitas for it.” He chuckled, standing up straight and glancing over at me.

I smiled, watching the way his face softened as he spoke about it. 

Nicholas continued, his voice warm with nostalgia. “That role changed everything for me. I didn’t think I had the guts to be on stage, let alone speak in front of a crowd, but playing Atticus… it was like stepping into someone else’s skin, someone who was brave and moral in a way I admired.” His gaze returned to the book, and his expression grew more tender. “He’s stuck with me since.”

The sincerity in his voice hit me square in the chest, and I found myself wanting to do something to show him how much I appreciated him sharing this piece of himself with me. While he wandered further down the aisle, his attention drawn to a collection of leather-bound classics, I glanced back at the signed copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

Without hesitation, I approached the store clerk, keeping an eye on Nicholas to make sure he didn’t notice. “I’d like to buy that,” I whispered, pointing to the book.

The clerk smiled sneakily, catching my drift. Without alerting Nicholas, the clerk retrieved the book and carefully packaged it in a protective sleeve before slipping it into a discreet bag for me. I paid quickly, my heart racing slightly at the price. If I thought $13 smoothies were expensive, how about a $400 signed book? But I didn’t care. It was worth every penny if it meant seeing Nicholas’s reaction. The clerk tucked the bag behind the counter, telling me he’d stick into a bag with whatever else we decided to buy.

I smiled and walked to the shelf of used books to pull out a random book, making my way over to the sofa and reading a few pages as Nicholas continued to peruse to his heart’s content. Some minutes later, Nicholas joined me at the couch, setting down a small stack of books on the table in front of us and wrapping his arm around my shoulder, kissing my head.

“What are you reading?” He asked quietly, rubbing the side of my arm.

I flipped back to the cover, “The Rise of Rome.”

He pulled me closer, resting his chin on my head, “Thank you for bringing me here. I can tell it means a lot to you.”

I smiled, leaning into him and closing the book on my lap. “It does,” I admitted softly. “This place is kind of a miracle for our town.”

Nicholas tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

I gestured around the cozy bookstore, the warm lighting and creaky wooden floors giving it a charm that felt like home. “It’s the first bookstore we’ve had in ten years. The last one closed down when I was in high school because there just wasn’t enough business to keep it afloat. For years, people had to drive to the next town over or order online for books, and it made me so sad to see something so important just… gone.”

Nicholas’s gaze softened as he listened, his thumb brushing absently against my arm.

I continued, my voice filling with a quiet passion. “This place only exists because the community came together to fund it. There were fundraisers, bake sales, even an auction to get the money together. A few local businesses pitched in too, and when it finally opened last year, it felt like a huge victory for everyone.”

Nicholas let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

“It is,” I said, glancing around. “But it’s still tough. Places like this don’t make a lot of money, even when people love them. I just hope it sticks around.”

Nicholas was quiet for a moment, his brows furrowing in thought as he glanced around the store. Then, a small smile crept onto his face, and he reached for his phone. “Do you think they’d mind if I posted about this place?”

I blinked, taken aback by his question. “Like on social media?”

He nodded, already opening his camera app. “Yeah. A little shoutout might bring some attention to it, maybe even some new customers.“

My heart swelled at the thought, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “This place deserves to be seen. Plus, I wouldn’t mind doing a little something to help keep it open for you,” he kissed my shoulder.

Nicholas stood up, his phone already poised to snap a picture of one of the store’s charming shelves filled with colorful spines and little handwritten recommendation cards. He even approached the clerk, striking up a conversation about the bookstore and asking his permission if he could post about it. Of course, the clerk was enthusiastic, excitedly posing for a few photos with Nicholas.

After a few clicks, he turned to me, a playful grin on his face. “Come here. I need you in the shot.”

I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head. “You don’t need me in it.”

“I absolutely do,” he argued, reaching out to pull me up from the couch. “You’re the whole reason we’re here.

Reluctantly, I let him guide me over to one of the shelves near the front of the store. Nicholas adjusted his phone, pulling me close so we fit into the frame. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, and he gave the camera his signature charming grin, while I opted for a softer smile, knowing he’d post this photo for everybody to see.

Satisfied, he turned the phone back to himself, quickly typing out a caption as I peeked over his shoulder.

Stopped by the coziest little bookstore today—it’s a real community effort, and the first one this town has had in ten years! Places like this deserve all the love they can get. If you’re in the area, check it out, or order something online to support! Keeping spaces like this alive is so important. 🖤

He added a few relevant hashtags and tagged the bookstore’s account before hitting post. Then he turned to me with a satisfied smile. “Done.”

I stared at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Nicholas leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Anything for you,” he murmured. “And for a good cause.”

The rest of the visit felt even more special, knowing he’d done something to help. As we made our way to the register to check out, I handed over a couple of books we’d  picked out. The clerk gave me a knowing smile, expertly ringing everything up without giving anything away.

Nicholas glanced at me as I paid, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sure you don’t want me to cover this?”

“Nope,” I said, giving him a cheeky grin. “My treat.”

He didn’t argue further, and once we were back in the car, I handed him the bag with his gift. “Here,” I said, my voice warm with anticipation. “This is for you.”

Nicholas blinked, surprised. “What? You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to,” I said simply. “Open it.”

He pulled out the wrapped book, his expression shifting from curiosity to awe as he realized what it was. “No way,” he whispered, carefully turning it over in his hands. “The signed copy?”

I nodded, biting my lip to keep from grinning too widely. “I saw how much it meant to you, and I couldn’t resist.”

Nicholas stared at the book for a long moment before looking up at me, his eyes shining with gratitude and a tear or two pricking at the corners. “(Y/N), this is…” his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, his thumb brushing over the edge of the book’s cover as though it were the most fragile, precious thing he’d ever held. “This is incredible,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t even know what to say.”

I smiled, feeling my chest tighten at his reaction. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I know how much this story and that role meant to you. I wanted you to have something that could remind you of where it all started, no matter where you are.” I reached out, placing a hand over his. “You deserve everything, Nicholas.”

He looked up at me then, his eyes glassy but full of warmth, and set the book gently on his lap before pulling me into his arms. “I love you,” he murmured, his lips pressing softly to my temple. “I love you so much. I’m so in love with you, (Y/N).”

My breath caught in my throat at the words, my heart swelling as I wrapped my arms around him. “I love you too,” I whispered back, feeling the sincerity in every syllable.

We stayed like that for a moment, the car silent except for the faint hum of the world outside. It was one of those rare moments that felt timeless, like nothing else mattered but the two of us.

As I turned the car back on and we headed toward the coffee shop, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was still carefully cradling the book in his lap, his fingers tracing the edges of the cover as if grounding himself in its significance. His quiet joy made the short drive to the coffee shop feel serene, a shared moment of contentment that didn’t need words.

The coffee shop was as cozy as the bookstore, with mismatched chairs, soft lighting, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with hints of cinnamon and vanilla. Nicholas insisted on paying this time, shooting me a playful glare when I tried to argue.

We ordered our drinks and found a small table near the window. The afternoon sunlight spilled in, painting the space in a golden hue. Nicholas leaned back in his chair, taking in the charm of the shop as he sipped his drink. We lingered there for a while, talking about everything and nothing, the way we always did. Nicholas told me about a script he was considering, his excitement lighting up his features, while I shared stories about growing up in the town, painting a picture of my life before him.

When the clock crept closer to four, I reluctantly glanced at my phone. “I had more planned, but we should probably head back for the cookout,” I said, not wanting the day to end.

Nicholas sighed dramatically but stood, gathering our empty cups and tossing them into the bin before taking my hand again. “Lead the way, my charming tour guide.”

The drive back was filled with easy conversation and laughter, the anticipation of the cookout settling over us like a soft blanket. As we pulled into the driveway, the scent of grilling meat and the sound of chatter greeted us, signaling the start of what promised to be a lively evening.

Nicholas squeezed my hand before we stepped out of the car, his expression soft as he looked at me. He didn’t need to say anything more; his eyes gave me that exact comforting look that could calm every nerve in my body.

As we walked toward the backyard, the sight of my extended family bustling about brought a wave of emotions I hadn’t fully prepared for. My parents had set up the yard beautifully — twinkling string lights crisscrossed above the patio, and the grill was already sending plumes of savory smoke into the air. Folding tables were covered in colorful tablecloths, laden with bowls of chips, salads, and other sides my mom had been prepping all day. The scene was cozy and familiar, yet now it held a new significance.

I wasn’t nervous about Nicholas meeting my extended family at all. He had so expertly navigated dinner with my nuclear family yesterday, that I was confident that he could hold his own with the great aunts and cousins. I didn’t care as much about their opinions.

As we stepped into the yard, I couldn’t help but glance at him. He looked completely at ease, holding the signed To Kill a Mockingbird in one hand and my hand in the other. The family erupted in cheers and greetings as we entered the space. I felt overwhelmed at the loud greeting, having never been the center of attention at functions like these before.

The self-consciousness hit me like a tidal wave, even as I forced a smile and waved at everyone. My extended family’s enthusiasm felt overwhelming, almost exaggerated, and I couldn’t tell if it was genuine excitement or a spectacle made out of the fact that I, the one who had always flown under the radar, was finally here with someone.

Nicholas, of course, took it all in stride. His easygoing charm radiated as he greeted everyone, answering questions with a warm smile, shaking hands, and laughing at jokes I couldn’t hear from where I stood. For a moment, I envied his confidence — how effortless it was for him to win people over. Meanwhile, I couldn’t shake the weight of the attention on me.

Why now? I wondered. Why all this fuss? My older siblings had brought home significant others before, and while there’d been interest, there had never been this. No cookouts, no fanfare. It was like my family had been holding their breath for years, waiting for me to prove I wasn’t going to end up alone, and Nicholas’s presence had finally given them the opportunity to exhale. Is this why my mom wanted to throw a cookout? To embarrass me? I wouldn’t put it past her.

I found myself retreating a little, busying myself with setting up the side dishes or refilling drinks to avoid lingering too long in conversations. Nicholas noticed, of course, and his hand found mine whenever he was close, his touch grounding me in a way I desperately needed.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly at one point, his eyes searching mine as we stood off to the side.

I nodded quickly, offering a smile that I hoped was convincing. “Yeah, just… I feel like everybody’s watching me,” I glanced around the room to find some of the aunts whispering to each other and looking over. God, why are aunts so gossip-y?

He tilted his head slightly, studying me, but didn’t push. “Well, you’re handling it beautifully,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face, kissing my forehead.

I wanted to believe him, but I knew I was being awkward. However, my demeanor wasn’t for naught. My suspicions about this whole event were confirmed when my mom lowered the music and clapped her hands to gain everybody’s attention. Oh, boy.

As the music quieted and the hum of conversation faded, all eyes turned to my mom, who stood near the grill with a self-satisfied smile. She raised her can of Coke Zero, a signature move she always employed to command a room. My stomach dropped. I could sense what was coming before she even opened her mouth.

“I just wanted to take a moment to welcome everyone and thank you all for coming today,” she began, her tone dripping with charm. Her gaze swept over the crowd, lingering on Nicholas and me. “It’s so wonderful to see this backyard filled with laughter and love. And of course, a very special thank you to Nicholas for being here with us.”

The crowd murmured their agreement, a few raising their drinks in his direction. Nicholas gave a modest smile, nodding in appreciation. I squeezed his hand tightly, hoping that would be the end of it, but I should’ve known better.

“You know,” my mom continued, her voice taking on that overly sweet, theatrical quality that made my skin crawl, “this is such a monumental occasion for us because, believe it or not, this is the first time our lovely (Y/N) has ever brought someone home to meet the family. We were starting to get a little worried!” She joked, her humor landing with everybody except me and Nicholas.

I wanted to sink into the ground, to disappear entirely. My cheeks burned as I forced a tight smile, trying to pretend her comment hadn’t gutted me.

Nicholas turned to me, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “You didn’t mention that,” he said softly, his tone more curious than accusatory.

I avoided his gaze, my mind racing for a way to recover. “I didn’t?” I mumbled under my breath, though my trembling hands betrayed me.

“Oh, don’t be shy!” my mom chimed in, clearly reveling in the attention she’d garnered. “We all thought this day might never come. I mean, after all these years…” She trailed off, laughing lightly as if it were all harmless fun.

The laughter around me felt suffocating. I glanced at Nicholas, his expression unreadable as he took in the scene. Was he embarrassed for me? Judging me? I couldn’t tell. The anxiety clawed at my chest, and I felt like I might explode.

“Mom,” I said quietly, my voice tight, but she either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me.

“And isn’t he just the most charming young man?” she continued, gesturing toward Nicholas like he was some prized possession I’d finally managed to acquire. “(Y/N), you’ve outdone yourself. It’s about time, don’t you all think?”

The crowd chuckled, and I could feel their eyes boring into me, their judgment and curiosity palpable. I was a grown adult being paraded like a child who’d finally mastered tying their shoes. The humiliation was overwhelming.

“How’d you even get an actor as your first boyfriend?” A younger cousin asked. I didn’t fault her for her bluntness; she was 11. Kids are always blunt.

“Yeah, did you stalk him?” Another older cousin asked amusedly.

My throat tightened as the room erupted in laughter, my cousins’ teasing only adding to my growing humiliation. The questions stung, not because they were malicious, but because they reinforced the narrative my mom had so gleefully laid out: that Nicholas was someone I didn’t deserve, someone I had to trick into loving me.

I opened my mouth to reply, to defend myself, but my mom beat me to it.

“Oh, please, don’t be silly,” she said, her voice dripping with faux amusement. “(Y/N)’s not the type to chase after anyone. She’s always been so focused on her books and work.”

The words hit me like a slap, veiled as they were in a thin layer of praise. The crowd chuckled again, but the undertone of my mom’s statement hung in the air, heavy and cutting. I felt Nicholas shift beside me, his hand tightening around mine as he clenched his jaw.

“Actually,” Nicholas said, his voice calm but laced with a subtle edge that silenced the laughter immediately. He glanced around the room, his expression composed but firm. “I’d appreciate it if we could keep this lighthearted. (Y/N) doesn’t need to prove herself to anyone here.” His words cut through the tension, a quiet command that made my mom blink in surprise. She opened her mouth to respond, but Nicholas wasn’t finished.

“And just for the record,” he added, his tone softening as he looked at me, “(Y/N) didn’t stalk me,” he shot a glare to my cousins as he spoke, his tone stern yet sassy, “She didn’t even know who I was when we met. And I was the one that made the first move, not that that’s anybody’s business.”

The air seemed to thicken with Nicholas’s words, his voice carrying a quiet power that left the room frozen. My cousins exchanged wide-eyed glances, their earlier smirks fading into sheepish expressions. My mom, for once, was speechless, her usual charm faltering under Nicholas’s unwavering gaze.

“Honestly,” he continued, his tone sharpening ever so slightly as he turned his attention to my mom, “(Y/N) is incredible. She doesn’t need anyone’s validation, least of all mine, to prove that.”

The silence that followed was deafening. My mom’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she opened her mouth, likely to recover her dominance over the situation, but Nicholas still wasn’t done.

“I’m here because I wanted to meet the people who are important to her,” he said, his voice softening now, but his intensity unwavering. “So maybe we can just focus on enjoying the day.”

His words were measured but deliberate, leaving no room for rebuttal. It was like watching him in his element, his performance masterful and commanding, but there was no pretense in his words. He meant every syllable, and it hit me as deeply as it seemed to hit the rest of the room.

My mom looked like she was struggling to find a response, her lips pressing together in a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course,” she finally said, her voice a little too high-pitched. “I was just having a bit of fun.”

Nicholas nodded curtly, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. He turned back to me, his eyes softening immediately as he reached for my hand again. “You okay?” he asked quietly, his thumb brushing against my knuckles.

I swallowed hard, my throat thick with emotion. It was like I was seeing him in a completely new light — one that was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. There was something undeniably magnetic about his protectiveness, the way he’d stepped in and taken control of a situation that had left me feeling so small.

At the same time, there was an edge to him I hadn’t fully seen before. His confidence, the calculated precision of his words, the subtle yet sharp glint in his eyes — it was almost unnerving how easily he’d dominated the room. It was as though, for just a moment, the meticulous precision and simmering danger of Patrick Bateman had seeped into the real Nicholas. The polished charm that usually radiated from him had slipped, revealing something darker, more primal. It was intoxicating.

I knew he wouldn’t be able to shed the layers of playing Patrick Bateman in his new movie so quickly, especially during a two-week break when he had to return to filming afterwards. The sharp edge to his voice, the way his jaw tightened when my mom made her snide remarks, the deliberate pause before he spoke as if calculating the exact impact his words would have — it was all so… deliberate. Controlled. Powerful. The kind of presence that commanded attention without needing to raise his voice.

And then there was the way he looked at me. When he asked if I was okay, his eyes softened, his protective warmth flooding through me, but there was still a glint there — something unreadable. It wasn’t anger. No, this was something deeper, more complex. It was like he had momentarily stepped into Bateman’s shoes, harnessing the ruthlessness of the character, but redirected it into something strangely noble. For my sake. I was touched.

As the rest of the family awkwardly resumed their conversations, I tugged Nicholas’s hand lightly and led him to a quieter corner of the backyard. His body language shifted instantly, his shoulders relaxing as he turned to face me, his expression softening further.

“Thank you, Nic,” I murmured, my voice barely audible above the hum of conversation.

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment before his lips quirked into a faint smile. “For what? Stating the obvious?”

I huffed out a breath of laughter, shaking my head. “You know what I mean.”

His smile grew, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wasn’t going to stand there and let them treat you like that. Especially your mom. I could take it at dinner last night, but seeing her do it to you so easily….” He trailed off. “She should be building you up, not tearing you down.”

Not that I was ungrateful for him stepping in, but I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you okay?” tilting my head to meet his gaze.

His expression flickered, surprise flashing briefly before he nodded. “Of course,” he said, his tone gentle now. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I hesitated, unsure if I should bring it up. “There’s an edge to you lately. Not that I don’t like it, because I do,” I stifled a chuckle, “I just wanna make sure you’re not overworking yourself too much for this movie,” I said as I cupped his face in my hands.

He let out a breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just hard to shake, you know? Especially when everything about Patrick feels so effortless. And his controlling nature is so…”

I searched his face, trying to find the right words to ease the tension I could see building in him. “You’re an incredible actor,” I said softly. “And part of what makes you so good is that you give everything to your characters. But that doesn’t mean they define you. Patrick is just a role, Nic. A role you’re crushing, by the way,” I added with a small smirk. “And, believe me, I know that you like the control,” I teased, referring to our earlier tryst.

Nicholas let out a low chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as his hands slid to my waist. “You’re not wrong,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar blend of mischief and warmth. “But trust me, any control I want is strictly consensual. And I’m pretty sure you don’t mind it.”

I felt my cheeks heat at his words, though I refused to back down. “I don’t,” I admitted with a grin, tilting my head to look up at him. “But just promise me you’ll keep Patrick on set.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve got nothing to worry about; I promise you.” He paused, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. “But thank you for keeping me grounded. I wish you could keep me in check while I filmed.”

My chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me like a warm embrace. “Always,” I said softly, standing on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

Nicholas returned the kiss, his hand cupping the back of my head as if to hold me there just a little longer. When we finally pulled apart, his eyes were lighter, the edge I’d noticed earlier softened by the moment.

“Come on,” he said, his voice taking on a playful tone as he laced his fingers with mine. “Let’s survive this cookout together. Then we can sneak away,” he whispered the last part in my ear, triggering a tickle in me.

As we rejoined the gathering, the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses enveloped us once again. But this time, I felt different. With Nicholas at my side, his hand in mine, the weight of the attention felt a little lighter, the lingering sting of my mom’s words a little less sharp. No one dared to tease me the rest of the night, even about things that had nothing to do with Nicholas. I was grateful for his protection. Though, I could feel my mom staring daggers at me, not quite amused that Nicholas had managed to turn something around on her.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polite conversation, laughter, and the usual family dynamics. Nicholas, ever the charmer, easily integrated himself into the flow, helping with the grill, chatting with my cousins, and winning my dad over more with his knowledge of football. If he noticed my mom’s thinly veiled irritation, he didn’t show it, handling her with the same calm poise that had disarmed her earlier.

Later that night, after the guests had trickled out and the dishes had been cleaned up, Nicholas and I lingered outside staring up at the stars. That’s when I thought maybe I should bring out my phone from charging so Nicholas and I could take a few photos of each other. Going inside and passing by my parents’ room, I heard their voices, low but unmistakably tense.

“I still think he was out of line,” my mom said, her tone clipped. “It’s one thing to defend her, but he didn’t need to make a spectacle of it in front of everyone.”

My dad’s response was immediate, his voice firm but calm. “He didn’t make a spectacle. He stood up for her because you pushed her too far. What were you thinking, making those comments?”

I froze outside the door, my heart pounding as I strained to hear.

“It was harmless teasing. You know how my family and I are,” my mom insisted. “It’s not my fault if she’s too sensitive.”

“It wasn’t harmless,” my dad countered, his tone sharpening. “You embarrassed her in front of the whole family. Nicholas was right to call you out. And even if (Y/N) was too sensitive, you taught her to be that way.”

I knocked on the door lightly before pushing the door open. “What are you guys talking about?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Because it sounds like you’re debating whether Nicholas was wrong to stand up for me.”

My mom sighed, clearly exasperated. “(Y/N), no one’s saying he shouldn’t have defended you,” she spoke as she lathered her legs up with her lotion, “but he could have done it more… tactfully. Calling attention to it just made it worse.”

“Worse for you, you mean,” I snapped, stepping further into the room. “The fact that you made me feel like some awkward charity case in front of everyone? Or that you couldn’t resist making my relationship with Nicholas the punchline of your little jokes?”

Her expression faltered for a moment before she straightened, her voice adopting that overly calm tone she always used when she felt cornered. “I was just trying to lighten the mood. It wasn’t meant to hurt you.“

“Well, it did,” I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “And you didn’t even apologize. Nicholas was the only one who had my back tonight, and now you’re mad at him for it?”

“I’m not mad,” she insisted, though her tone betrayed her. “I just think he could have handled it better. It’s not his place to—”

“Not his place?” My dad interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “That young man cares about our daughter. He didn’t raise his voice or make a scene. He handled it exactly as he should have — better than I would have, to be honest.” I looked at my dad, surprised by the fire in his voice. He turned to me, his expression softening. “Nicholas did the right thing, sweetheart. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad he did. I should’ve stepped in; I didn’t know your mom would do that in front of everybody.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and I blinked them away quickly. “Thanks, Dad.”

He nodded, his gaze steady as he turned back to my mom. “You owe her an apology. And you need to think about how your words come across. You’ve done this before.”

“I—” My mom started to protest but stopped herself. She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine. I’m sorry, (Y/N). If I hurt you, it wasn’t intentional.”

The apology felt half-hearted, but it was something. I nodded, not trusting myself to say much more without breaking down. “Goodnight,” I said finally, turning to leave.

As I walked out, I heard my dad’s voice again, low but firm. “You need to let her grow up. She’s not a child.”

I didn’t stick around to hear her response. Instead, I headed back outside to join Nicholas under the lit pergola. He was leaning against the wooden post of the pergola, his head tilted back as he gazed up at the stars. The soft glow of the string lights gave him a golden halo, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the relaxed curve of his lips. He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of the tension that had just played out inside.

I stepped forward, my footsteps crunching on the gravel, and his eyes shifted to meet mine. His smile was immediate, warm and inviting, but it faltered slightly as he studied my face. “Hey,” he said softly, straightening. “You okay?”

I nodded as I reached him, but the words were caught in my throat. His expression tightened with concern, and he took my hand, pulling me closer.

“Talk to me,” he urged, his voice steady but filled with worry.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the jumble of emotions swirling inside me. “I overheard my parents talking,” I admitted, glancing at the ground. “About you. About tonight.” Nicholas’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, but he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue. “My mom thinks you were out of line for standing up for me,” I said, my voice small. 

His brow furrowed, a flash of frustration crossing his features. “I didn’t mean to—”

I cut him off, shaking my head. “No, Nic. That’s not… I don’t think you were out of line,” I clarified, my voice firm. “In fact, I think you handled it perfectly.”

His gaze softened, but he still looked uncertain. “Then what’s bothering you?”

I hesitated, my eyes darting back to the house before returning to him. “It’s not just about tonight,” I confessed. “Things with my mom have been tense for a while. She has this way of… I don’t know, making me feel small. Like I’m not good enough, or like I need to justify every decision I make.” I paused, my throat tightening. “And now, with you here, it feels like everything’s about to boil over. Like it’s all going to explode at any minute.”

Nicholas frowned, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek. “Hey,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against my skin. “None of this is your fault. Your mom’s behavior isn’t okay, but it doesn’t reflect on you, and it sure as hell doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

I blinked back tears, leaning into his touch. “I just don’t want you to think you’re the reason for any of this tension,” I murmured. “It’s been building for a long time. You standing up for me tonight… it meant more than you know. Really.”

Nicholas exhaled slowly, his other hand coming to rest on my waist. “I’ll admit, I don’t like seeing anyone treat you the way she did tonight. But this isn’t about me, (Y/N). It’s about you. You deserve to feel safe and supported, especially with your family. And if I made things worse by speaking up—”

“You didn’t,” I interrupted firmly, placing a hand over his chest. “If anything, you reminded me that I don’t have to take it. That it’s okay to expect better.”

He tilted his head, studying me intently. “You’ve always deserved better,” he said quietly. “You’re incredible, (Y/N). Anyone who doesn’t see that is blind.”

His words hit me square in the chest, and I felt my defenses crumble. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder as a tear slid down my cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “For being here. For standing up for me.”

Nicholas wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a warm, protective embrace. “Always,” he murmured against my hair. He was quiet for a moment, but then spoke up again, “Hey, I have an idea.” I pulled away from him, curious. “I know this cookout interrupted some of the plans you had for us today, but that’s over now and we still have some time left. Why don’t we continue our day together?”

I smiled at him, appreciating his effort to shift the mood. “Yeah,” I said softly, “I’d like that.”

Nicholas stepped back slightly, his hands resting on my hips as he looked at me expectantly. “Where to next?”

There was only one place I could think of — a spot I hadn’t shared with anyone else before. A place that was mine, where I’d always gone to feel at peace. “How do you feel about going for a drive? There’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

His eyes lit up with curiosity. “I’m intrigued. But why don’t I drive us this time? Give you a break?”

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I appreciate it, but this is one of those drives you just have to feel. Trust me; I’ll explain along the way.” Nicholas studied me for a moment, then nodded, his curiosity only growing.

We got into the car, and as soon as I turned the engine on, I felt a sense of relief. I’m glad Nicholas suggested we continue our day together, allowing me to forget what happened earlier.

The first few minutes of the drive were quiet, the only sounds coming from the hum of the car and the faint echoes of cicadas in the distance. The air was warm, the faint scent of barbecue still lingering as we left the neighborhood. I rolled down the windows slightly, letting the cool breeze sweep through the car.

“The beach?” Nicholas asked after a while, his gaze flicking to the road signs as we approached the causeway over the bay.

I’m sure he remembered the drive to the island from when he first visited those 10 months ago. I always wondered what went through his head when he first arrived here for that weekend.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing at him briefly before returning my focus to the road. “There’s a spot at the end of the island I think you’ll love. It’s… peaceful. Feels like the edge of the world sometimes.”

Nicholas leaned back in his seat, his eyes drifting out the window. “Sounds perfect.”

The drive over the causeway was always my favorite part. The bridge rose high over the bay, the water stretching endlessly on either side, shimmering under the moonlight. It felt like entering another world, a quiet escape from the noise and chaos of reality.

“The beach means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” he asked softly, breaking the silence.

I nodded. “It does. My family used to come out here all the time. Over time, the trips became more sporadic until we stopped visiting completely. When I first started driving, I promised myself to visit as often as I could, even if it was just for a couple of hours. It’s like the ocean… resets me, I guess.”

Nicholas turned to me, his expression thoughtful. He reached out to squeeze my thigh, “It means a lot to me, too.”

I glanced over to him, knowing what he had meant. The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten, and I couldn’t help but smile.

We drove in comfortable silence for a while longer. At some point, we had driven past the hotel where we first met, the both of us squeezing each other’s hands as we passed by it. The streets grew quieter as we left the main part of the island behind. The road narrowed, the buildings thinning out until there was nothing but dunes on either side of us.

The headlights cut through the darkness as the road turned into a hauntingly quiet path bordered by dunes on either side, high and low. The sand on the road danced around like snakes in grass, side to side gracefully with a rhythmic pattern.  The air was crisp with the salty tang of the ocean, growing stronger with each passing mile. The farther we drove, the more the world seemed to fall away, leaving nothing but the sound of the engine and the rhythmic crash of waves faintly echoing in the distance.

Nicholas rolled down his window further, letting the cool air sweep into the car. “The ocean sounds so close,” he murmured, his voice quiet, as if not to disturb the tranquility outside.

I smiled, focusing on the road ahead as it started to blend with the sand. “That’s when you know you’re almost there.”

The headlights illuminated patches of sea oats swaying gently on the dunes, their slender stalks casting long, delicate shadows. In the distance, to our right, the moonlight shimmered on the surface of the water, breaking through the gaps in the dunes. The scene was hauntingly beautiful, the kind of place that felt untouched by time.

Eventually, the pavement started to blend into the sand, a yellow sign on the side reading ‘Road Ends Here’ to warn drivers. I slowed the car to a stop, pulling over right at the end of the road and switching off the car. The car settled into the stillness, the sound of the engine fading into the background as the night took over. The stars above were brilliant, like shiny, little fish in a dark ocean.

I turned to Nicholas, a slight smirk on my face, “Wanna guess what they call this place?”

Nicholas turned his head to me, a curious smile playing on his lips. “Hmm,” he murmured, glancing out at the scene before us. The moonlight painted the sand dunes in soft silver, the ocean beyond dark and infinite, stretching into the horizon. “Something dramatic. Maybe… The Edge of the World?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Close, but not quite. They call it The End of the Road.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting the words sink in as his gaze drifted back to the landscape. “Fitting,” he said softly.

I nodded, the wind catching my hair as I reached for the door handle. “Come on, you’ve gotta experience it outside the car.”

Nicholas followed my lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The sand shifted beneath my bare feet as I walked toward the crest of a nearby dune, the sound of the waves growing louder with each step. Nicholas trailed behind me, his shoes crunching softly against the sand until he paused to kick them off.

The sound of the ocean was a constant rhythm, steady and soothing, as if the world itself was breathing. The vast openness of it all made me feel small in the best way, like every worry and frustration from earlier had been swept away with the tide.

“This is unreal,” Nicholas said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He stopped beside me, his hands resting on his hips as he took it all in. The wind tousled his hair, and for a moment, he looked like he belonged here, like he was part of the landscape.

I turned to him, watching his expression soften as he gazed out at the ocean. “It’s my favorite place,” I admitted, my voice carrying an edge of vulnerability. “Whenever I need to clear my head, this is where I come. There’s just something about being here that makes everything else feel… smaller.”

We stood there for a while, letting the stillness envelop us. The only sounds were the gentle crash of waves and the faint rustle of the dunes in the wind. I felt a sense of peace settle over me, the weight of the day finally lifting.

“This might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever been,” Nicholas said after a long silence, his voice tinged with awe.

His sincerity made my heart tighten, and I smiled, reaching out to take his hand. Nicholas squeezed my hand, pulling me closer until our shoulders touched. The silence between us felt comfortable as we walked further toward the shoreline, the soft crunch of sand beneath our feet blending with the rhythmic crash of the waves. Nicholas slowed his pace, his gaze fixed on the waves that lapped at the sand with a steady, soothing cadence. I glanced at him, the corners of my lips tugging into a soft smile at the awe in his expression. He looked completely at peace, his usual confidence tempered by a quiet wonder. It wasn’t a side of him I got to see often, and I found myself savoring it.

When we reached a spot where the sand felt cooler and damp underfoot, I stopped and motioned for us to sit. Without a word, we sank onto the ground, the soft grains shifting beneath us. I stretched my legs out, my fingers absently trailing through the sand, while Nicholas propped his elbows on his knees, leaning slightly forward as he watched the waves roll in and out.

Neither of us spoke, and we didn’t need to. The ocean filled the silence between us, its endless rhythm steady and grounding. The stars above seemed brighter here, unspoiled by the town lights.

After a while, Nicholas turned his head to look at me. His brown eyes softened, his lips curving into a faint smile. I smiled back, my heart swelling. He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine in the sand before he intertwined them gently. The warmth of his touch was grounding, even as my pulse quickened at the simple gesture. For a while, we just sat there, our hands loosely clasped, the ocean stretching endlessly before us.

Then, slowly, he turned to me fully, his free hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face. His gaze lingered, intense but tender, as if he were memorizing every detail. “Thank you for bringing me here,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

The sincerity in his words left me momentarily speechless. All I could do was smile and nod, my throat too tight to trust my voice. He didn’t look away, his eyes searching mine for something unspoken.

And then he leaned in.

It was slow, deliberate, like he was giving me every chance to close the space between us. I met him halfway, our lips brushing softly at first, tentative and sweet, before deepening into something more. His hand slid to the back of my neck, anchoring me to him as the kiss grew more passionate, the world around us fading into the background. The taste of salt lingered on his lips, a perfect complement to the cool breeze that swirled around us. My fingers found their way into his hair, tangling there as I lost myself in him, in the moment, in the feeling of being completely and utterly seen.

When we finally pulled apart, the only sounds were the waves and the rapid thrum of my heart. Nicholas rested his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine. My chest tightened, a mix of overwhelming affection. Nicholas shifted slightly, his hand still resting against my cheek as he pulled me closer. His touch was no longer tentative; it was insistent, a magnetic pull that I couldn’t resist. His lips found mine again, this time with a passion that made my head spin. The world around us dissolved, leaving only the heat between us and the cool sand beneath. I leaned into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders as the kiss deepened. His fingers slid into my hair, tilting my head back as his lips trailed down to my jaw, then to the sensitive skin of my neck. A soft gasp escaped me, and I felt his grip tighten, his need mirroring my own.

The cool breeze from the ocean contrasted sharply with the warmth radiating between us, heightening every sensation. Nicholas’s lips continued their descent, lingering on my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. His hand skimmed my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. His voice was low, almost reverent, filled with equal parts desire and restraint.

I shook my head, my hands tightening on his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” I whispered, my voice trembling but certain.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Nicholas shifted, laying me back gently onto the sand. His weight pressed against me in the most intoxicating way, grounding me even as my senses seemed to scatter. The stars above us felt impossibly close, their light mingling with the moon’s glow and the shadows of our movements.

His hand slid under the hem of my shirt, his fingers grazing my skin with a lightness that left me breathless. I arched into his touch, my hands sliding under his own shirt, exploring the planes of his back, the warmth of his skin beneath my palms. He groaned softly at the contact, his lips returning to mine with a renewed urgency.

The waves crashed in the background, their rhythm a steady pulse that matched the quickening beat of my heart. Nicholas’s hands were everywhere — tracing, exploring, learning every inch of me as if he couldn’t get enough. Each touch, each kiss, was deliberate, as though he was trying to memorize the moment, the way we fit together.

His fingers found the button of my jeans, hesitating for a heartbeat as his eyes sought mine. I met his gaze, nodding, my breath hitching as I helped him slide the fabric away. The cool air kissed my exposed skin, but the warmth of his touch quickly chased away any chill.

The sand beneath us was soft, molding to our shapes as we moved together, the lines between where he ended and I began blurring with every shared breath. His name fell from my lips in a soft gasp as his hands traveled lower, his touch setting me alight in ways I didn’t know were possible.

The tension between us thickened, the air charged with the electricity of anticipation. Nicholas moved with deliberate care, his every touch igniting a fire beneath my skin. His lips found mine again, their urgency undeniable as his hands pulled down at my underwear. He pulled away from my lips, looking down at me as he undid the zipper and button of his pants, pulling his pants and briefs down just enough to free himself.

He settled between my legs, looking down at me with such commitment that my breath hitched, and for a second, I grew timid under him. His hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing along my jaw as though grounding himself in the moment.

The sand shifted beneath us as he adjusted his position, his body lowering slightly to meet mine. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear as his hands guided my legs around his hips. His touch was steady but unhurried, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, sending waves of anticipation coursing through me. The weight of him against me, coupled with the cool sand beneath, grounded me in ways I hadn’t expected.

He exhaled deeply, his hands tightening on my hips as he inserted himself, his movements slow and deliberate. I gasped softly, my hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders as he stilled for a moment, his forehead pressing against mine. His breath came in shallow, uneven waves, matching the fluttering of my pulse. For a fleeting second, everything felt suspended — the stars above, the restless ocean, even time itself — until he moved again, his motions slow and purposeful.

Every sensation was amplified—the way his hands gripped my hips, firm yet tender; the way his lips brushed against my temple, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He was careful, attentive, his movements speaking of restraint and reverence. It was a complete 180 from this morning, and I loved both versions of him.

Nicholas whispered my name, his voice low and thick, the sound vibrating through me like a prayer. I tilted my head back, my eyes closing as the waves in the distance seemed to echo the rhythm of our bodies. His movements quickened, the controlled precision of his thrusting giving way to something rawer, more urgent.

My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as I felt the tension within him build, his control slipping. The vulnerability in his gaze as he looked down at me, his brows furrowed in concentration, made my chest tighten.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice trembling, as though the words were the only thing grounding him.

The words struck me like a lightning bolt, sending a ripple of warmth coursing through me. Nicholas shifted slightly, his grip on my hips firm but gentle as he pulled me closer, deepening the connection between us. His forehead pressed against mine again, his breath warm and uneven. I could feel the tremble in his hands, the tension in his body as though he was holding something back, trying to pace himself. He whispered my name again, his voice barely audible, and it sent another shiver through me.

The crescendo between us built, a perfect harmony of movement and emotion, until it finally crested like a wave, leaving us both trembling in its wake. Nicholas collapsed against me, his weight grounding me as his breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. My fingers traced idle patterns along his back, grounding myself in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine.

We stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in the stillness, the sounds of the ocean surrounding us. Nicholas lifted his head slightly, his hand brushing gently against my cheek. His eyes were soft, a mix of love and hesitation lingering in their depths.

Nicholas had driven us home that night, letting me nap in the car as he held me by my thigh the entire way. When we finally arrived home, the hum of the car’s engine quieted as Nicholas turned it off. He squeezed my thigh gently, a silent reassurance as I blinked myself awake, the world around me still tinged with the haze of exhaustion and contentment.

“We’re here,” he said softly, his voice low and warm. I nodded, my body heavy with the aftereffects of the evening. The beach, the intimacy, the weight of emotions — it all lingered like a soft buzz beneath my skin, the tension between my mom and I long forgotten.

Nicholas helped me out of the car, steadying me with his arm around my waist. The night air was cool against my flushed cheeks, and I leaned into him instinctively, letting his strength guide me inside. The house was quiet, my parents presumably asleep or silently fuming over the events of the day. Either way, I was grateful for the stillness.

As we stepped into my room, the door clicking softly shut behind us, Nicholas paused. He turned to face me, his hands resting lightly on my hips as his eyes searched mine. “You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, a tired but genuine smile tugging at my lips. “I’m better now,” I said, resting my forehead against his chest. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, and I let out a content sigh, the tension in my body finally beginning to dissipate.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I nodded again, too drained to argue, as he gently led me toward the bed. I kicked off my shoes, and he helped me out of my clothes, his hands careful and unhurried.

Nicholas pulled back the covers, and I slid beneath them, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth of the room. He moved to the other side, quickly shedding his own shirt and jeans before slipping in beside me. The bed dipped under his weight, and he pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me like a cocoon as I drifted to sleep. And if I had known that the day after would be a disaster, I wouldn’t have woken up.

The morning came far too quickly, the soft light filtering through the curtains stirring me awake. Nicholas’s arm was draped over my waist, his steady breathing warm against the back of my neck. But as my mind sharpened, the memory of yesterday crept back in, and with it, the weight of the inevitable confrontation with my mom. My stomach twisted at the thought, the familiar anxiety bubbling to the surface. Today was New Year’s Eve, and while the party preparations would serve as a distraction, I knew it was only a matter of time before the tension boiled over. It’s the only thing that ever happens during holiday parties.

Nicholas stirred behind me, his arm tightening slightly as he pressed a sleepy kiss to my shoulder. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” I replied softly, turning to face him. His eyes were still half-closed, his hair adorably tousled. Even in the midst of my unease, I couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied my expression.

“I mean, I slept, but it doesn’t feel like I did,” I stifled a chuckle. “I still feel… tense.”

Nicholas’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “Remember, I’ve got you,” he said firmly. “And you’ve got me.”

His words were a balm to my nerves, and I leaned in to kiss him, letting the simple gesture convey my gratitude. “Thank you,” I whispered against his lips.

We stayed like that for a few more minutes, not wanting to move, but the promise of today’s plans had coaxed Nicholas out of bed. “Okay,” he slid out from under the covers, clapping his hands, his muscles flexing with every movement, “Double-time. It’s New Year’s Eve,” he smiled.

That morning, my dad announced his plan to take Nicholas and my brothers out to pick up fireworks for the party.

“Are you guys up for an adventure?” my dad said as he walked into the kitchen, a playful grin spreading across his face. He leaned against the counter, eyeing Nicholas and my brothers. “We’re going to pick up fireworks for tonight. Biggest haul we can find, best show we can put on. You in, Nicholas?”

Nicholas’s face lit up like a kid being handed the keys to a candy store. “Absolutely. Count me in,” he spoke, his voice brimming with excitement.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, especially when he turned to me with an almost boyish grin, as if asking for permission. “Go,” I said, nudging him playfully.

My dad clapped Nicholas on the shoulder, clearly pleased. The men all exchanged grins as they grabbed their coats and prepared to leave. Nicholas bent down to kiss me on the cheek before heading out the door. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised, his hand lingering on mine for a moment before he followed my dad and brothers out.

As the door closed behind them, the house felt strangely quiet. I sighed, turning to the pile of decorations still waiting to be hung. Being left alone with my mom wasn’t ideal, but I appreciated that my dad had gone out of his way to include Nicholas. It wasn’t just about fireworks; it was about making Nicholas feel like part of the family.

And I’m sure it was his way of apologizing for what happened last night, for ever letting my mom go as far as she did with her comments without stopping her, and forcing Nicholas to interject. I’m sure watching what happened had hurt my dad, as well, knowing how he had never liked it when my mom shifted her scrutiny onto someone else, especially me.

I could see the guilt etched on his face as Nicholas stepped in to defend me. He had stood by, likely unsure of how to intervene without escalating the situation, and I couldn’t entirely blame him. My mom was a force of nature — headstrong and relentless in her need to control the narrative of every family gathering. But my dad had always been the quiet counterbalance to her sharp edges. Where my mom used her voice to dominate a room, my dad used his to steady it. He’d always been the one to pull me aside after a heated moment with her, offering a hug or a reassuring word when I felt small. Last night, though, he hadn’t had a chance to step in before Nicholas did, and I could tell it weighed on him.

Including Nicholas in their “guys’ trip” today was his way of making things right — not just with me but with Nicholas, too. My dad was old-fashioned in the best way; he believed that shared experiences were what built trust. And nothing screamed bonding more than taking a group of men out to buy enough fireworks to light up the entire neighborhood. Nicholas fit in so effortlessly, and his excitement about today’s plans only made me love him more. I could picture him now, standing with my dad and brothers in front of some over-the-top fireworks display, probably offering to carry the heaviest boxes or cracking a joke to ease any awkwardness.

I appreciated how Nicholas didn’t just see me — he saw my family, even the complicated parts of it, and he was willing to embrace it all. My dad clearly appreciated it, too. As much as I knew he loved me, my dad had always been reserved when it came to my relationships, carefully observing from a distance. But with Nicholas, I could sense a shift. There was a warmth in the way he talked to him, a respect that had been given wholeheartedly.

The sound of the front door shutting jolted me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see my mom stepping into the living room with a box of decorations in hand. “Ready to spruce the house up?” She asked with a smile, almost genuine this time.

I nodded, brushing my hands against my jeans as I stood. “Yeah. Let’s get started.”

For a while, we worked in relative silence. The house was already half-transformed, twinkling lights strung along the walls and a table in the dining room piled high with party supplies. I busied myself with hanging garlands and arranging centerpieces, determined to keep the peace. But my mom, of course, couldn't resist making her usual remarks.

“So, Nicholas seems... intense," she said casually, handing me a string of lights. Her tone was light, but the pointed edge was impossible to miss.

I paused, glancing at her before continuing to wrap the lights around the column. "He's passionate," I replied evenly, refusing to take the bait.

“Passionate," she echoed with a faint smirk. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

I bit back a sigh, focusing on the task at hand. "He's a good person, Mom. He cares about me. That's what matters."

She hummed in response, her eyes narrowing slightly as she adjusted a vase on the mantle. "I'm sure he does. But don't you think it's a little... much?”

I turned to face her, my patience wearing thin. "He stood up for me because you put me in a position where I needed someone to stand up for me," I said quietly but firmly.

Her expression hardened, the faint smile vanishing from her lips. "I was joking, (Y/N). You're too sensitive."

"Maybe you're too cruel," I shot back before I could stop myself.

The silence that followed was deafening, tension crackling in the air like static electricity. My mom straightened, her posture stiff as she fixed me with a cold stare. "I'm only trying to help you," she said tightly. "You don't see it now, but you will.“

There it was. Those few calculated words that could disarm me at a moment’s notice. I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar weight of her words settle on my shoulders. My mom had perfected the art of spinning everything to make herself the victim while simultaneously positioning her actions as some twisted version of “help.”

I swallowed the rising lump in my throat, deciding once again to bite back the sharp retort I could feel forming on my tongue. “Let’s just focus on finishing this,” I muttered, turning back to the decorations and forcing my hands to steady as I worked.

The rest of the setup passed in a strained silence, the unspoken tension between us lingering like a storm cloud. The house transformed gradually as the day unfolded, taking on the appearance of a holiday wonderland with every light, garland, and carefully placed decoration. Twinkling string lights were draped across every available surface, casting a warm, golden glow that softened the sharp edges of the tension simmering beneath the surface. The dining table became a centerpiece of abundance, laden with platters of hors d’oeuvres, bowls of brightly colored dips, and towers of flaky pastries waiting to be devoured. Candles flickered on every available surface, their flames dancing in time with the faint hum of music playing in the background. The scent of pine, cinnamon, and something sweet — cookies, perhaps — filled the air.

The backyard was similarly transformed, fairy lights strung between the trees and along the fence, creating an almost magical atmosphere. Tables and chairs were set up on the lawn, each adorned with crisp white tablecloths and small centerpieces of fresh flowers and sprigs of eucalyptus. A small fire pit had been prepared in the far corner, surrounded by cozy chairs and blankets for those who might venture outside when the evening chill set in. The focal point of the yard was the stage my dad had insisted on setting up for the fireworks. It was a modest affair — a few raised wooden planks decorated with strings of red, white, and silver bunting — but it was enough to hold the stockpile of fireworks he and the guys would inevitably bring back. Nearby, a cooler brimmed with drinks, its contents glittering with condensation.

It was beautiful, objectively perfect even, the kind of setting that would make for a stunning photo or a magazine spread. But beneath the glitter and glow, the cracks in the foundation remained, and I desperately wanted Nicholas back home.

As the afternoon turned into evening, I retreated to my room to get ready. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, carefully applying makeup to cover the exhaustion I felt creeping into my features. A soft blush, a swipe of mascara, and a bold lip color — it was enough to present a polished exterior, even if my nerves were unraveling underneath.

The sound of the first guests arriving reached me before I stepped out of my room, their laughter and chatter mingling with the faint strains of music that floated through the halls. Upon leaving my room, I was struck by how effortlessly the house had shifted into party mode. Every detail created the perfect atmosphere of warmth and celebration, to which I was hoping I could participate in without the nerves gnawing at my stomach.

Guests mingled in the living room, their voices overlapping in a pleasant hum. Some had already taken to the backyard, where the fire pit flickered against the darkening sky. The clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter punctuated the air as people toasted to the end of the year. The energy was contagious, a current of excitement that made it easier to push aside my earlier unease.

By then, Nicholas, my dad, and brothers returned from buying fireworks. Nicholas had quickly found me amongst the guests, embracing me in a quick, warm hug, “Let me get dressed, and I’ll come find you again.”

I nodded, smiling as Nicholas disappeared toward my room, the soft tread of his footsteps a grounding reminder that he was here, with me.

As the minutes ticked by, the party atmosphere grew more vibrant. The house pulsed with life, a blend of festive energy and the rhythmic hum of voices overlapping one another. The entire neighborhood was basically all packed in here. The living room had become a hub of activity. Groups of guests lingered near the fireplace, where stockings from Christmas still hung, adding a nostalgic touch to the evening. The table of hors d’oeuvres in the dining room was a constant draw, the platters slowly depleting as guests indulged in bite-sized treats and toasted with champagne flutes that sparkled in the soft glow of the overhead chandelier.

Through the living room window, I could see that the backyard had turned into its own gathering space. The fire pit crackled merrily, surrounded by guests wrapped in light blankets. Children darted around the lawn, their laughter carrying through the air like the chiming of tiny bells. The fairy lights strung along the fences cast a golden glow over everything, making the scene look like something out of a holiday postcard.

Nicholas reappeared shortly after, dressed in a sharp navy blazer over a white shirt, his hair neatly combed but still carrying its usual slightly tousled charm. His presence immediately put me at ease, the tension from earlier melting away as he made his way through the crowd to my side.

“You look beautiful,” he relaxed into a sigh as his hands found my waist.

“How was hanging out with my dad and brothers?” I asked, resting my hands on the lapels of his blazer.

Nicholas’s lips quirked into a grin as he pulled me closer, his thumbs brushing lightly against my waist. “Honestly? It was great. Your dad’s got this calm, no-nonsense energy, and your brothers… well, let’s just say they made sure to warn me about what might happen if I ever hurt you.” He chuckled softly, a hint of affection in his tone. “But they were kidding. I think.”

I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at my lips. “Maybe,” I shrugged my shoulders, letting out a soft laugh. “I don’t know. They’ve never really had a chance to tell that to anybody else before.”

Nicholas laughed with me, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping. “Well, I’m honored. I think?” He kissed my forehead, his gesture grounding me amid the swirl of the party.

The moment felt safe, a brief pocket of calm in the chaos around us. I leaned into him, letting myself enjoy the quiet reassurance of his presence. But the peace was short-lived, as it always seemed to be when my mom was nearby.

I caught sight of her moving through the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning the room like she was mentally cataloging everything out of place. The sight of her was enough to set my nerves buzzing again, and I reluctantly pulled away from Nicholas, smoothing my dress as I did.

“Come on,” I said, forcing a smile. “Let’s make the rounds.”

We wove through the crowd together, exchanging pleasantries with family friends and neighbors. Nicholas was effortlessly charming, his laugh infectious as he listened to stories and humored even the most insistent questions about his career. For a while, it felt easy — normal, even. I almost forgot about the inevitable tension that had been building all day.

Almost.

The moment came during a lull in the party when most of the guests had either drifted outside to the fire pit or gathered in the backyard to admire the fireworks my dad started to light about an hour before midnight. There was a slow, rhythmic boom every few minutes. Obviously, he was saving the bulk for midnight.

I was in the kitchen, refilling a tray of snacks, when my mom appeared behind me, her presence as sharp and cutting as a blade. She seemed meek at first, acting as if she didn’t know what to say when she knew exactly what she was going to say. "I just want what's best for you, honey," she said softly. "I wish you could see that.”

I turned to face her, my jaw tightening at her feigned sweetness. “What’s best for me?” I repeated, my voice low but sharp. “You mean what you think is best for me, right? Because let’s be honest, Mom, you’ve never actually cared about what I want.”

Her expression hardened in an instant, the veneer of concern slipping to reveal the cold edge beneath. “You’re too young to understand,” she said evenly, crossing her arms. “Nicholas is… exciting now, sure. But men like him don’t settle down. They don’t build lives with girls like you. They don’t stick around; they never do.”

I felt the anger rising in my chest like a tidal wave. The party sounds in the background seemed distant, muted against the roaring in my ears. “Enough,” I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.

My mom blinked, her smile freezing in place as the room seemed to hold its breath.

"Excuse me?" she said, her tone clipped.

"You've made your point," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. "We all get it. Nicholas is amazing, and somehow, you're surprised I could end up with someone like him. But you don't have to keep pointing it out."

“I just don’t think Nicholas is right for you,” she cupped my face.

I swatted away her hand, turning my cheek, "That's not your decision to make," I said, my chest tightening with anger. "I'm an adult, Mom. Even if it doesn’t end up working with Nicholas, I’m allowed to make my own mistakes.”

My mom’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought she might back down. But then she squared her shoulders, her voice cold and cutting as she spoke. "Maybe it's time you proved that," she said. "If you think you're so grown up, then act like it. Move out. You’re 23 years old, for god’s sake.“

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I stared at her in disbelief. "You're kicking me out?" I asked, my voice trembling.

My mom didn’t flinch. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her gaze unwavering. “It’s the only way you’ll see that I’ve only ever tried to protect you.”

My breath caught in my throat as the reality of her words settled over me like a suffocating weight. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure, but the anger and hurt bubbling inside me were impossible to suppress. “You think this is protection?” I said, my voice shaking. “You think controlling every part of my life and tearing down the people I love is protecting me?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. “You’re not ready for the real world.”

The roar of blood in my ears drowned out the hum of the party beyond the kitchen. But no matter how angry I was, the sadness in me broke through first, turning me into a bubble of tears as I continued to speak, my voice cracking all the while, “You don’t get to live your life through me and then punish me when I want to make my own decisions.”

I heard the faint creak of the sliding door behind us from across the living room, and before I could process it, Nicholas’s calm but firm voice broke through the tension. “What’s going on?” He asked as he slowly crossed over to the kitchen.

Both my mom and I turned, her face twisting into a mask of forced civility, while mine burned with humiliation and fury. Nicholas’s gaze flicked between the two of us, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer.

“This is between me and my daughter,” my mom said quickly, her voice strained with a brittle kind of authority. “It doesn’t concern you.”

Nicholas’s brow furrowed as he looked at me, his hand finding the small of my back. “If you’re talking about me and our relationship, it does concern me,” he said, his tone steady but edged with warning.

I interjected, not wanting this to escalate between my mom and Nicholas. Even with our arguing, I didn’t want my mom to hate him. A cruel wish, wasn’t it? “Nic…” I sniffled quietly, squeezing his hand to let him know this wasn’t his fight. It was mine and mine alone. I had to see this through. I turned to my mom, tears in my eyes, “Why can’t you just support me — us? You never controlled my brothers the way you control me,” I spoke, my voice calm. My mom opened her mouth to continue her arguing, but I interrupted her. “We’re not talking about this anymore if we’re just gonna keep arguing about the same thing over and over.”

By then, people started to trickle back into the house to grab their champagne glasses for the New Year’s countdown, giving my mom no opportunity to argue back. Instead, she flickered her gaze between Nicholas and I, watching him pull me closer to him before she rejoined the party.

As the living room filled with laughter and chatter once more, I clung to Nicholas’s side, grateful for his steady presence. He placed a protective hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently through the crowd. I could feel the weight of my mom’s glare on us, but I forced myself not to look back. The tension from the kitchen hung over me like a storm cloud, but I was determined not to let it ruin the rest of the night.

The countdown was already playing on the television, the screen flashing with the glittering ball in Times Square. While some guests gathered around inside, glasses of champagne in hand, Nicholas led me outside to the front of the house, away from the party happening at our house..

“You okay?” he asked softly, his breath warm against my ear.

I nodded, but the lump in my throat betrayed me. I leaned into him, letting his presence steady me. The cool night air hit my cheeks, a refreshing contrast to the stifling tension I’d just escaped. The street outside was alive with the quiet chaos of New Year’s Eve. Cars lined both sides, muffled music spilled from neighboring houses, and the occasional laughter of partygoers drifted through the air.

Nicholas tugged me gently toward the sidewalk, away from the trees that were blocking the sky. “You sure?” he pressed, his tone low and concerned. His hand found mine, his thumb tracing soft circles against my skin.

I exhaled, my breath visible in the crisp air. “It’s just a lot,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Just then, I could hear the faint chant of everybody counting down inside and in the backyard. Nicholas pressed a quick kiss to my temple, his touch grounding me as the crowd began chanting. “Ten… nine… eight…”

Nicholas tightened his arm around me, and I felt a rush of warmth. I looked up at him, his profile illuminated by the glow of a nearby street lamp, and my heart swelled.

“Three… two… one… Happy New Year!”

Just then the entire street erupted into a cacophony of fireworks for miles, the sky bursting with fiery colors that painted the darkness in brilliant hues of red, gold, and blue. The vibrant blooms of light sparkled and faded, giving way to more, as though the universe itself was celebrating.

I was unable to tear my gaze away from the sight above. The explosions seemed endless, each one more vibrant and dazzling than the last. Trails of glittering sparks cascaded down like falling stars, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire world had stopped to watch with me.

Nicholas turned to me, a soft smile on his lips as he cupped my face in his hands. “Happy New Year, baby,” he said, his voice low and intimate, meant only for me.

Before I could reply, he leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both tender and full of promise. The chaos of what had gone on inside melted away, leaving just the two of us in that moment. When we pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, and I could see the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the noise of the thunderous fireworks going off.

I blinked, taken aback. “What?”

Nicholas pulled back slightly, his hands still cradling my face. “Come back to New York with me,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “At least for a little while. There’s only a few weeks left of filming. I don’t want to leave you here; I want you to be with me, there.”

The words hit me like a wave, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. My mind raced, caught between the pull of his offer and the ties that still held me to this place. “Nicholas…” I started, my voice hesitant.

He shook his head, his thumbs brushing gently against my cheeks. “I know it’s sudden, with your job and everything,” he said quickly. “ I want you there with me, grounding me while I finish filming. And you deserve a fresh start, even if it’s just temporary. We can both get what we want.”

The sincerity in his eyes made my breath catch. I searched his face, my mind racing with a hundred conflicting thoughts. “I—”

He smiled, “You don’t have to decide right now,” he interrupted gently. His voice was soft, reassuring. “Just think about it.”

I nodded, feeling the lump in my throat return. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the fireworks. “I’ll think about it.”

Nicholas kissed my forehead again, his lips lingering for a moment. “That’s all I need,” he said softly, his arms wrapping around me as the sky continued to light up above us.

We stayed outside a little longer, the distant echo of cheers and music from neighboring houses blending with the vibrant bursts of color. We watched as the fireworks continued to burn until they stopped an hour or two later. Slowly but surely, people started to walk to their cars and leave to their own homes, the street growing lonelier and lonelier the more the night stretched on.

Later that night, as we lay in bed, the house finally quiet, I couldn’t sleep. Nicholas was next to me, his breathing deep and steady as his arm rested lightly across my waist. My thoughts churned as I stared at the ceiling, replaying the evening’s events. My mom’s words, her dismissal of my feelings, and then Nicholas’s offer — so simple, yet so monumental.

I turned to face him, the faint moonlight from the window casting soft shadows across his face. “Nic,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

His eyes opened slowly, a small smile playing on his lips as he focused on me. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, fluttering his eyes closed again, “You okay?”

I nodded, biting my lip. I took a deep breath, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I’ll go with you,” I said finally, my words soft.

Nicholas’s eyes fluttered open again, his brow furrowing slightly as if he was processing my words through the haze of sleep. Slowly, a soft smile curved his lips, and he pulled me closer, his arm tightening around my waist. He didn’t speak, but the way he buried his face against my shoulder, holding me like I was the only thing grounding him, said enough. I let my eyes close, exhaustion finally tugging me into sleep with the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling me.

The next day came. As if nothing had happened the day before, my mom announced she was going to the stores for a few hours to take advantage of any last minute New Year’s sales, which had given me the perfect opportunity to explain to my dad Nicholas’s and I’s plans.

My dad was in the garage when I found him, organizing empty boxes of holiday decorations to anticipate the day he and my mom would be taking everything down, which would come soon. He turned when he heard me step inside, his face lighting up with a small, warm smile. For a moment, I hesitated, not sure how to begin. My dad had always been my quiet confidant, the one person I could count on to listen without judgment. But this felt different.

I cleared my throat, stepping closer. He set down a plastic box of old Christmas lights he’d been holding and gave me his full attention, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. He didn’t speak, waiting patiently for me to find the words.

“Dad, I’m leaving with Nicholas. Not long, just some weeks,” I said finally, my voice quieter than I’d intended. The words felt heavy, hanging in the air between us.

My dad’s face softened, his expression unreadable for a moment. He glanced down at his hands, rubbing his palms together as if considering what to say. When he looked back at me, his eyes were filled with a mix of emotions — sadness, pride, and something else I couldn’t quite place. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. He reached out, pulling me into a tight hug, the kind that made me feel like a little kid again. His arms were strong, steady, and reassuring, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the comfort of it.

When he pulled back, his hands rested on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. There was a quiet acceptance there, a recognition that this was something I needed to do. He didn’t argue or try to convince me to stay. Instead, he gave me a small, almost bittersweet smile.

My dad had always been supportive in his own quiet way, and this moment was no different. I could see the sadness in his expression, the heartbreak of watching his daughter leave the home she’d grown up in. But there was pride, too, and an unspoken understanding that I was ready to take this step.

He walked with me back into the house, where Nicholas was waiting in the living room, flipping through the pages of a book he’d pulled from the shelf. My dad paused in the doorway, his gaze lingering on Nicholas for a moment before he stepped forward, extending a hand.

Nicholas stood quickly, setting the book aside as he shook my dad’s hand. There was a moment of silence between them, a subtle exchange that felt heavy with meaning. My dad gave Nicholas a nod, his grip firm, before letting go. There was no hostility, no doubt, just a quiet expectation that Nicholas would protect and cherish me in the way he knew I deserved. Nicholas seemed to understand, his own expression serious as he met my dad’s gaze. There was a promise in the way he nodded back, a silent vow that he would do right by me.

As my dad stepped back, giving us space, I felt a rush of gratitude for him. He had always been a steady presence in my life, quietly supporting me through every challenge. And now, as I prepared to leave, he was still that same unwavering pillar of strength.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of packing for the bitter chill of a January in New York. As I pulled out my suitcase from the back of my closet, a strange mix of emotions settled over me. The weight of what I was doing hit me fully as I began folding sweaters and tucking them neatly into the bag. Excitement and dread warred in my chest, a constant push and pull that made every movement feel heavier than it should have.

The thought of leaving home, even temporarily, filled me with an ache I hadn’t anticipated. This house had seen every version of me — the child who scraped her knees in the backyard, the teenager who hid away in her room to escape the chaos, and now, the adult preparing to walk out the door with no clear plan for what came next. I could feel the walls watching, as if they knew this moment carried more weight than I was ready to admit.

I was angry at my mom, yes, but leaving felt like I was giving up something I couldn’t quite name. Was it the hope that things could change? That she might finally see me, accept me for who I was instead of the version she wanted me to be? The thought made my chest tighten.

The sound of the front door opening jolted me from my thoughts. My mom was home. I froze, my hands hovering over the half-packed suitcase. For a moment, I considered closing the closet door and pretending I wasn’t doing this, but the heavy footfalls of her heels against the tile told me it was too late.

“(Y/N)?” she called out, her voice carrying through the house. “Where are you? Look at all the stuff I bought!”

“In here,” I called back, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Her footsteps grew louder until she appeared in the doorway of my room, shopping bags dangling from her arms. Her gaze landed on the suitcase instantly, and the shift in her expression was immediate. Confusion, then realization, and finally something that looked almost like regret.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tight.

“Packing,” I said simply, refusing to look away.

“For what?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not actually leaving.”

“You told me to move out,” I reminded her, my tone calm but firm. “So I’m going.”

Her laugh was sharp, almost incredulous. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t mean it.”

I straightened, the weight of her dismissal settling heavily on my chest. “You meant it in the moment, Mom. I won’t be gone long, but I’m choosing to leave either way.”

She stepped into the room, dropping the shopping bags onto the floor. “(Y/N),” she started, her tone softer now, almost pleading. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I was upset. It was the heat of the moment. You’re my daughter. Of course, I don’t want you to leave.”

For a second, I hesitated, her words tugging at the part of me that had always wanted her approval. But then I remembered the way she’d dismissed my feelings, the way she’d belittled me in front of everyone, and the sharp sting of her words the night before.

“You say you’ve done everything to protect me,” I replied quietly, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’m telling you right now that I don’t need it anymore. I’m ready for whatever the world has to offer — good and bad.”

Her face faltered, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a flash of guilt. Her lips parted as if to respond, but she hesitated, the words caught somewhere between her pride and regret. Finally, she sighed, the sound heavy and unfamiliar coming from her. “You’re serious about this,” she said, more to herself than to me.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I am.”

She stepped closer, her gaze softening in a way I hadn’t seen in years. For a moment, it was as if the weight of our complicated relationship melted away, leaving behind only the raw, unfiltered emotion of a mother seeing her child take a step she wasn’t ready for. “You’ve always been stubborn,” she said quietly, her voice trembling just slightly.

I didn’t reply, afraid that any words might shatter the fragile moment between us.

“I just…” she started, her voice breaking slightly before she composed herself. “I just don’t want you to make a mistake you can’t come back from.”

“I know,” I said softly, taking a step closer. “But that’s part of growing up, Mom. It’s part of learning who I am, outside of who you think I should be.”

She closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her own emotions. When she opened them again, there was a flicker of something I couldn’t quite name — acceptance, maybe, or at least a step in that direction. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?” she asked, her voice softer now.

I smiled faintly, a small sense of relief blooming in my chest. “Of course.”

She nodded once, stepping back toward the doorway. Her hand lingered on the frame as she glanced back at me. “I’ll… I’ll help you finish packing,” she offered hesitantly.

The words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn’t respond. Then, slowly, I nodded. “I’d like that.”

She nodded again, her lips pressing into a thin line before she disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I exhaled shakily, the tension in my chest easing just slightly. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, and it wouldn’t fix everything between us, but it was a start. When she returned, she carried a small stack of my favorite sweaters and a carefully folded blanket from the living room. She set them gently on the bed beside my suitcase, her movements deliberate and quiet. We worked side by side in silence, the unspoken understanding between us saying more than words ever could.

As I zipped up the suitcase and clicked the latches into place, I felt a strange mix of emotions — relief, sadness, hope. This wasn’t the ending I’d envisioned, but maybe it didn’t have to be an ending at all. Maybe it was just a new chapter. A chance for both of us to grow.

The airport was quieter than I expected for a New Year’s Day. Nicholas and I stood at the curb, my suitcase already unloaded and waiting beside us. The cold January wind nipped at my cheeks, but I barely felt it. The weight of the moment pressed against my chest, each passing second stretching into eternity.

My dad was the one who drove us, his calm presence offering an unspoken reassurance during the ride. He stood a few paces away now, giving us space but still close enough to send a quiet message: You’re not alone. My mom hadn’t come. It was too much, too soon, for either of us, and I was grateful she didn’t push.

Nicholas adjusted the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder, his free hand finding mine. His fingers intertwined with mine, warm and grounding, as his gaze searched mine. “Are you sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice steady but tinged with uncertainty.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure.”

He gave a small, relieved smile, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand. “Good,” he said simply, his tone carrying more weight than the single word implied.

We stood in silence for a moment, the world around us bustling with the sounds of car engines, rolling suitcases, and distant announcements over the airport speakers. But it all felt far away, like background noise to the gravity of this moment.

“I meant what I said last night,” Nicholas said, his voice breaking the silence. His eyes held mine, unwavering. “I don’t want you to feel like this is something you have to do for me. I want you to come because it’s what you want.”

I squeezed his hand, my heart swelling with both gratitude and affection. “I’m doing this for us,” I said firmly, my voice steadier now. “Because I want to be with you, Nicholas. Wherever that takes me.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with wonder. “You know that, right?”

I huffed out a quiet laugh, my cheeks warming despite the cold. “You tell me enough.”

“Not nearly enough,” he said, his tone serious. He cupped my face with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I blinked them away quickly, not wanting to cry here, in the middle of the airport curb. 

Nicholas leaned in, his forehead resting gently against mine. For a moment, the world around us seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us standing together, on the cusp of something new.

“Let’s go make a life together,” he said softly, his words a promise as much as an invitation.

I nodded, a small smile breaking through the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “Let’s do it.”

He kissed me then, a soft, lingering kiss that felt like a vow, sealing the moment between us. When we pulled apart, he grabbed my suitcase with one hand and reached for my dad with the other, shaking his hand firmly.

“Thank you,” Nicholas said, his voice steady but filled with meaning. My dad nodded, his grip firm as he clapped Nicholas on the shoulder.

“Take care of her,” my dad said quietly, his voice low but carrying the weight of a father’s love and trust.

“I will,” Nicholas replied, his voice unwavering.

As we turned toward the airport doors, I glanced back one last time. My dad stood there, his hands in his pockets, watching us with a faint but proud smile. I gave him a small wave, and he nodded, his expression a mixture of sadness and pride.

I knew my relationship with Nicholas was passionate, fiery. What I didn’t anticipate was how it would ignite a revolution within me — one that would burn away the old version of myself. That version of me was timid, too caught up in her own head, second-guessing her worth, constantly wondering if she was enough. She lived under the shadow of others’ expectations, her mother’s most of all, like a flame too afraid to burn brightly. But with Nicholas, that flame wasn’t snuffed out; it was set free.

It wasn’t just his presence or his love that changed me — it was the way he saw me. He didn’t just love the version of me that I tried to present to the world. He loved the flawed, messy, confused parts of me that I tried so hard to hide. And in doing so, he showed me that I didn’t need to keep hiding. That I could let go of the suffocating need to measure myself by other people’s standards, to live up to expectations that were never truly mine.

The fire between us wasn’t always gentle. It challenged me, forced me to confront parts of myself I had buried for so long. At times, it felt overwhelming, like the heat might consume me. But through that fire, I found strength I didn’t know I had. I learned how to stand tall, how to take up space in my own life instead of folding myself smaller to accommodate others. With Nicholas’s support, I began making room for myself — not just in his world, but in my own.

It still feels surreal sometimes, to think that it all began with something as random and mundane as a hotel room assignment. Two strangers, their lives running parallel for a fleeting moment, brought together by sheer coincidence. If either of us had arrived a day earlier or later, if our rooms had been just a floor apart, none of this might have happened. And yet, it did.

The simplicity of that beginning only makes what came after feel more profound. That brief collision of our worlds wasn’t just chance; it was the spark that lit the fire. It was as if the universe had nudged us together, knowing that we were exactly what the other needed — even if we didn’t know it at the time.

And now, as I stand on the other side of that fire, I feel renewed, like I’ve shed a skin I no longer need. The woman I am now is no longer shackled by fear or self-doubt. She’s bold, unafraid to claim her happiness, her future. And while I’ve built this version of myself with my own hands, I know it was Nicholas who first handed me the match.

Continue the story with Room To Breathe (Part 4)

[peterm4rker]

(𐙚⋆.˚) wondering why

🕸🕷✮⋆ [mark x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.5k w. none, lmk if you find any! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

hey siri! play "wondering why" by the red clay strays

she comes from silver spoon, golden rule, private school

never missed sunday church

mark watched you from his place next to his father.

the way you focused on whatever you seemed to be embroidering, eyebrows furrowed and tongue poking out of your lips slightly. he couldn’t help himself, his eyes refused to move away from the astonishing beauty of your smooth skin and pretty eyes. his heart began to race as you looked up at him, catching his stare. he thought you were going to be weirded out at his dirty figure, but he was met with the prettiest smile he had ever seen. he smiled back instantly, his eyes lighting up with wonder before he was obliged to head back to earth by the voice of his father.

“mark, the scissors.” his voice was serious, a warning hidden in his tone. the boy muttered a small “sorry” as he hurried along to get the tool to his father. when he looked back at you, your eyes had long moved from him, and you didn’t meet them again until your own father’s voice rang.

“yn, come over here for a second” he spoke, his demanding tone almost sending a shiver down mark’s spine. you hurried over without a word, eyes connecting with mark’s for only a few seconds. “i need a dress made for her, she will be presented to society now that she is finally of age… the young man should start taking her measurements, the dress cannot be anything short of perfect for my princess.” 

your eyes were glued to the floor, as if you were ashamed of your father’s words. mark stared for a couple more seconds until his father nudged his side, urging him to follow the man’s orders. he moved quickly to grab the measuring tape and approach you. you raised your arms to give him the liberty to do his job, your lips chewing on your bottom lip out of nervousness. 

“i’m sorry you have to do this” you whispered, only for him to hear. your voice was sweet like honey, and it made mark’s insides twist in knots.

“i don’t mind” he muttered back, a small smile on his lips as he hid his desire for closeness behind the excuse of doing his job.

at eighteen years old, mark knew he wanted to marry you someday.

…

and i come from blue collar, low dollar

out here where concrete meets old red dirt

“you better be finding inspiration and not getting more of those impossible ideas of yours” mark’s father spoke as his reflection walked by mark’s on the glass. the young boy’s eyes were fixated on the suit that stood behind it, mind imagining himself wearing it while waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs of your house.

“are they really that impossible?” he asked, his tone breathless as he forced himself to tear his eyes away and jog to catch up with the man. he knew the answer he would receive, but he wanted oh so badly for it to change.

“dreams are dangerous for people like us, son” there was a hint of defeat in his father’s voice as they walked up the stairs that lead to your home. “we make the dress, not marry the bride.”

and those words stuck with him for days on end as he moved around you, sharing tender and oh so loving gazes as he pinned fabric around your body for a day he knew he would not be there to witness.

“you have soft hands” your voice rang in his ears, interrupting the peaceful silence that surrounded you in the empty room. “compared to your father’s”

“less years of hard work, he would say,” he mumbled as he stood behind you, fixing what would be the corset of your debutante dress.

“where is he, anyway? i’m sure my father had demanded his work for my big night” the last two words rang with sarcasm.

you felt his hands go more rigid than usual after the question “he has fallen ill, that’s why it's only me today” shit.

“i'm terribly sorry, i shouldn’t have asked” you voiced with regret, and you watched his reflection shake his head in the mirror.

“there is no way you could’ve known” mark reassured, attention still fixated on his job.

“i’m glad he has you to continue his labor” you spoke again, voice more tender this time.

mark’s eyes rose to find yours in the reflection, an eyebrow slightly raised. “do you, miss ln?”

his voice had sounded deeper than it usually did, and the way his breath hit the skin of your shoulder made a shiver run down your spine.

“i do.”

...

and i don't know what happened

but it sure don't add up on paper

the day had finally come. where you would walk down a flight of stairs wearing the dress that he made, a soft melody in the background that he wouldn’t get to hear while you held a hand that wasn’t his.

mark sat in the sand of the beach near your house, watching the ocean reach and recoil from his touch as you had done so many times in the past months. his eyes felt dry at the lack of the tears they had grown used to now that his father was gone, but there weren’t any left to relieve the itchiness. 

his hands played with the sand on his side, enjoying the warmth that contrasted how cold the skin of the last hand he held was. mark felt guilty, really, that he couldn’t keep his mind off of you even when his father had died. but he had spent months yearning for the moment he could tell you how gut wrenchingly in love he was with you, with the way you spoke, with the way you looked at him. and now he was too late, because he knew that if he had any chance with you before that stupid, rich people, ridiculous ball you had to attend, it was gone now. there wasn’t a single chance that you were going out of there without having been introduced to all the respectable, equally rich young men that your mother would just love to set you up with.

that’s what he thought, of course, before he heard your voice calling him from the distance. he snapped his head towards the sound, knowing that it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. but it wasn’t, you were there, running up to him with your long white gown and your chest heaving as you tried to regain your breath.

he didn’t waste any more time before running in your direction, arms flying to support your tired body. “yn? what are you doing here?” he asked once he was finally at your side.

“i got in a fight with my father and ran away. i can't do it, mark” he noticed the way your face was wet with tears and guided you to sit down, hoping you could catch your breath before you passed out.

“what can’t you do?” he questioned further, his heart racing with possibility.

“i can’t be paraded like that when i know i’ve already met the man i want to spend my life with” your voice sounded more stable now and your eyes bored into his.

mark felt his breath hitch at your words “you have?”

“of course, why else did you think i ran all the way here? i was hoping to find you” your eyes didn’t leave his for a second, and he could see the honesty through them.

he didn’t answer your indirect confession, he didn’t have the words. the only thing he could do was press his lips to yours in a tender but passionate kiss, hoping that was enough to tell you he felt the same.

...

but when i close my eyes late at night

you can bet i thank my maker

“i’m sorry, i know it's not much but, uhm, you can take the bed and i’ll take the couch” mark spoke nervously as you entered his small house. you had stopped on your tracks, eyes wandering around the space.

“it's perfect” your voice made his eyebrows furrowed. he knew his house was far from perfect, even more in the eyes of someone like you.

“i don’t think the word “perfect” is the one you're looking for” he muttered, finally catching your eyes as you looked his way.

“i love it, mark” you smiled as you approached him, your hand shyly moving to his blushing cheeks. “i’m serious”

he couldn’t help but smile, kissing the palm of your hand in affection. “we should get you out of that dress before you ruin my masterpiece any further”

“already trying to undress me? have some decorum would you” you joked, eliciting a laugh to fall from his lips as he rolled his eyes.

“do you want to sleep with a corset on, then?” he raised his eyebrow. “although i do have to say, you look insanely beautiful” his words made your heart race as you watched his eyes look you up and down slower than he usually would.

“if you ever make me a dress with a corset again i will end your bloodline.” you said, face stoic. mark couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“come on, i’ll give you some clothes and we can go to sleep” he looked at you one last time before guiding you to his room.

he waited outside while you changed, the white gown folded and discarded to the side as you walked towards the door. mark’s breath hitched once again as he saw how beautiful you looked, swallowed by the fabric of his clothes.

“like what you see?” your tone was teasing, but it flew right over his head as he took his time to go back into reality.

“you’re free to take the bed” he stammered as he quickly looked away as he realized how much he had been looking.

“would it be a lot to ask you to stay? i really don’t feel like being alone.” you asked as you looked down, a little nervous at his answer.

“if you’re sure, i would be more than happy to do so” the boy answered, his voice gone soft at the sight of you.

that’s how you ended up under mark’s covers, your head rested on his chest as he caressed your hair softly. you had fallen asleep the moment your body relaxed on his, and mark stayed awake just a few more moments to take everything in and mutter a quick “thank you” to the sky.

...

she keeps on loving me

loves me the way i am

“love, dinner is ready” mark heard your soft voice, seconds before he felt the warmth of your hand on his back.

“thank you, i’ll be right there” he turned his head to give you a tired smile, the eye bags under his eyes making you feel heavy at heart.

it wasn’t long until he sat in front of you on the dinner table, two plates served with hot food. 

“what’s on your mind, markie?” you asked as you noticed the way his eyes were fixated on the table, his fork barely playing with his food.

“this isn’t the life i promised i could give you” he spoke, his voice heavy as his eyes finally met yours.

“isn’t it? last time i checked you promised me a happy life, and i hadn’t known happiness like this until i ran away from that wretched house.” you smiled, reaching to hold his hand in yours. “i know you want to give me a life of glamour and expensive mansions, but we’ll get there eventually. and if we don’t, i don’t care, because you’re here and that’s all that's ever mattered to me.”

mark squeezed your hand as he listened to you, feeling his heart pound with love for you. you never failed to remind him why he had fallen in love with you, nor all the reasons you had fallen in love with him.

…

she's not just along for the ride

she's my biggest fan

“mark!” he heard your voice call out to him as you ran into the house, startling him with the high volume. he looked at you with confusion written all over his face as you shook the newspaper around excitedly. “look at this!”

said newspaper was planted in front of him, a picture of one of his clients wearing one of the dresses he had designed on the front cover. his eyes widened at the sight, his smile following right behind. “one of my dresses is on the front cover?” he asked, astonished.

“not only that! she mentioned you, look!” you pointed at a specific paragraph you had marked on the paper. he read the woman’s praising words toward his work, still not believing his eyes.

“this is insane, i don’t even know what to say…” mark’s eyes moved to yours, a smile overtaking his surprised face as he watched the way your eyes lit up with joy and slowly filled with tears.

your hands slowly made their way to his cheeks, caressing the skin with the pads of your thumbs ever so lovingly “i’m so proud of you, my love”

and right then and there, mark knew there was nothing he could ever do without you cheering for him in every step.

…

lord, it's a little old piece of heaven

when we lay down at night

mark climbed into your new bed in your new house, a slightly bigger one with a more comfortable mattress. it didn’t take long after he settled for you to cuddle up to his chest, looking for his warmth even in your sleep.

his arms surrounded your body and pulled you closer as he left a kiss on your forehead, allowing himself to admire your sleepy face. he remembered the moment you moved into the house, how your unwavering smile faltered at the sight of the bed.

“is there something wrong?” mark asked, his smile falling as he watched your eyebrows furrow.

“the bed is massive,” you answered. his confusion only grew further. what was wrong with a massive bed?

“did you want me to keep the older one, love? it was borderline a twin mattress” he questioned again, looking into your eyes.

“how on earth am i supposed to find you when we sleep?” you answered his question with one of his own. he watched you and waited for your signature laugh to fall from your lips and tell him you were just joking, but it never came.

“baby” the boy couldn’t help but chuckle, moving towards you to place his hands on your hips and bring you closer to leave a cast kiss on your lips. “we’ll be just as close, i will find you even if i have to wake up, i promise.”

his answer seemed to calm your troubled mind as you smiled and pulled him in for another kiss.”

…

she keeps on loving me

and i keep on wondering why

“hey mark?” your voice pierced the comfortable silence as you laid on a blanket on your balcony, staring up at the starry sky like you used to do on the terrace of your old apartment. the boy hummed, moving his head to stare at your side profile. “my mother reached out to me today” your words were said barely above a whisper.

mark felt his heart race, his disdain for those you called your family still present. “and what did she say?”

“she told me she saw you in the newspaper” your eyes were still fixated on the sky above “that shes pleasantly surprised about your success and that father wants us to have dinner over at the villa sometime”

mark had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. a family that had never treated him or you as anything but a disgrace were now suddenly eager to enjoy a meal with him. he knew he would rather eat his own chopped liver than spend a minute inside that household, but he would do it if you wanted to. it wasn’t his family nor his place to decide. 

“and what did you say?” he asked and you finally turned your head towards him. mark felt as breathless as he had when he saw you for the first time. your eyes still looked like they held the entire universe.

“i told her to fuck herself” you erupted in a giggle as your words left your lips, and mark couldn’t help but laugh along side you.

he had always wondered why you loved him as much as you did, but god was he grateful you did.

★ blue's corner ;; i love love love this song and i watched the greatest showman yesterday, so i had to write this for my mental sanity. i hope you guys like it ! a special thank you to my beta reader and the cutest person alive @morkiee ★ taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @soulari

© peterm4rker, 2024

[hyuny-bunny]

pls do needy soft dom hyunjin with lots of praise and kisses 🥹 i need him so bad. preferably a fic / one shot !!

hold me | H. H. |

genre: smut + fluff, idol!hyun x non idol afab reader

a/n: thank you so much for the submission 🥹 i hope this does it justice 🤍

synopsis: sunday mornings with a needy hyun after he's had a bad dream

MDNI (+18) content warning: oral fixation , p in v, afab reader, pet names (angel, baby, good girl, honey), unprotected sex, slight choking, finger sucking, fingering, a touch of angst, some aftercare cuddles <3

Weekends were pretty tame when he wasn't promoting or touring. It was only during these times, was there a sense of normalcy, almost falling into a domestic routine. Saturday's were always dates, whether it was for a dinner date, picnic dates, movie dates, art gala exhibition dates. It didn't matter where you were, as long as you were together, he's taking you out on dates. It was a date regardless of what was going on, even if it was just staying in and the furthest you got to being outside was walking down the street to pick up take out.

Sundays on the other hand, those were the lazy days. Sleeping in past ungodly hours, holding each other, ruffled messy hair, wet kisses, and hands under each others shirts (their both his shirts he'd argue). So it was no surprise when you woke up to see he was still sound asleep, you swept your legs off the bed to tip toe into the bathroom. Luckily when he moved to this place, he won the coin toss to get the master bedroom with a bathroom.

It was only a minute or so of washing up before you could hear him stirring around, calling out your name. Your view from the door way of the bathroom was a sight, he laid posed in bed like something out of a painting.

"Where'd you go? I missed you" he pouted but you couldn't deny how soft and sweet he sounded, honey dripping off his words. His dark hair was a tossed mess, his t-shirt was lifted just a bit, his hand laid across his stomach with his pinky finger just slightly tucked in the waist of his boxers.

"I had to wash up" you crawled onto his bed just barely hovering over his face, "I think you should consider the same."

He huffed a bit before strolling to the bathroom, disappearing for a bit. When he came back he looked refreshed, slightly more lively. Without a word he's crawling back into the bed and pulling you to lay atop of him, he's grabbing you by the waist with one arm and the other hand is reaching up into your hair to pull you down to his lips.

It starts soft and sweet, you can still taste the mint from his toothpaste. His practically situated you to straddle his thigh, your panties are the only thing stoping you from being flush against his thigh. It's when he starts to grip your hair tightly, you let out a soft whimper that gives him enough access to slot his tongue onto yours. The sounds of wet kisses and low whimpers are the only thing you can hear echoing in the room. He lifts his leg just a bit to have you sliding against him higher, you can feel how hard he is through his briefs.

"Need you... need to feel you... i want all of you..." His kisses become sloppier between each sentence. His lips are plumper than usual and bitten red from the way he kisses you. He pulls back to flip you under him, pushing his thigh against your core to feel the wet spot beginning to pool.

"Be an angel, will you?" his hands start to push up under your (his) shirt, his hands tickle your sides sending a shiver down your spine, when his hands cup your boobs, another whimper falls from your mouth.

"That's it baby, let me make you feel good, yeah?" he's leaving wet kisses down your throat until he gets to your collar bone, leaving a litter of hickies in place. Pulling back for a moment, he lifts his own shirt over his head leaving you to take your own off, now you're both down to your underwear. It's only then, when he has a full view of you in all your glory, does he feel like he could just cum from the sight of you.

He's latching his mouth on to your chest and sliding a hand in your panties, letting his fingers swipe away at the wetness covering you. You let a yelp from the sensation, pulling his hair slightly only making him groan into your chest before he's shoving his middle finger in.

"Be a good girl and try to stay quiet. Can't have them hearing your pretty moans, those are for me only."

He's shoving another finger and wrapping a gentle hand around your throat. His fingers are brushing up against the g-spot, leaving your legs a shakey mess, the hand on your throat is squeezing gently to making your head rush for a few before releasing again. You let out another whine louder than the last.

"Hyun, p-please I-I can't-," you're so close to cumming on his hand but not another word gets out. He's shoving his fingers coated in your wetness in your mouth for you to suck clean. His eyes are narrowed in on the way your lips are wrapped so prettily around his fingers. He pulls them in and out of your mouth until he feels you've had a good taste of yourself.

"Such a good girl for me, god I love you. Come on, let's get these panties off, I'll give you what you need."

He stands up to pull his boxers off, his cock springs up slapping against his tummy. He's big but not too big, it's long and with the right amount of girth. He's climbing back on to you before you can think. He lifts your hips, pulling your panties off in one swift motion. He's kneeling on the bed with your hips pulled to his lap, he leans down peppering your thighs in kisses.

"You're mine. All mine. Understood?" A kiss between each punctuation.

"I'm all yours, Hyun. Only yours.. please baby" Your head is still spinning from the orgasm that was ripped from you.

"Please what? Come on baby, I need to hear you say it." The head of his cock is rubbing against your entrance, bumping into your clit making you whine once more.

"Fuck me Hyun, please, need to feel your cock in me please. Make me cum please," the pleas send blood rushing to his cock again.

"I'll make you feel better baby." He slips himself into you with the last word causing you to let out the most pornographic moan he's ever heard. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours. I'm yours, Hyun." His pace begins to pick up. His hands hold your waist, your tits bounce at every thrust and your hands are gripping his forearm. A string of moans and 'i'm yours' fall from your lips. He picks up his pace long forgetting his roommates are home, he couldn't care less. He needs to hear you say you belong to him, he needs the world to hear it.

"You're mine and I'm yours.. ohh fuck baby you feel so good. Cum on my cock, make me yours" he whimpers out.

Head spinning with lust, you catch a glimpse of the fucked out expression painted on his face. The way his chest moves every breath and his muscles enlarged by the way he holds you. You pull him down to your face, his hair is stuck to forehead. He loves the way you push his hair back and kiss him sweetly, a contrast to the way he fucks you right now. Skin slapping, wet squelching, heavy breathing, moans spilling out with no regards to anyone in earshot.

He picks up his pace, you feel the knot forming in your stomach. You try to muffle the moans in the pillow next you but it's not enough. He starts rubbing gentle circles to your clit with his thumb, when he lifts your leg his cock is hitting your g spot from another angle that has you falling apart. You're squeezing his cock so hard he whines out your name. You can feel the warm spurts of cum in you, his lap and cock covered in your own. He pulls out gently and lets your hips down. He rolls off the bed grabbing a warm wet cloth to clean you up. He kisses your forehead and cheeks sweetly, thanking you and showering you with 'i love you's. Once he's cleaned up the both of you, he crawls back into bed beside you, pulling you to his chest and mushing his face into your hair.

"Wanna tell me where all that came from?" You ask. He's quite for a beat.

"I had a dream... a nightmare really... And when I woke up you weren't there. I know it sounds silly but... I just needed to know that you need me as much as I need you..."

You lift your head from his chest to look him in the eyes. There's tears brimming his beautiful eyes.

"It's not silly. And I love you. I need you always. I need you like I need air to breathe." You kiss his lips and then his forehead, letting him have his turn to rest his head on your chest.

"Come on, honey. Let's have a shower" you try to lift his head from your chest.

"Just... please just hold me like this for a little while longer"

"I'll hold you for as long as you need... and then some." You brush your fingers through his hair until his heart beat calms, all you can hear are his quiet snores.