#the way she left her family in secret because she didn't want to live the life they wanted her to live

[arkiwii]

may i perhaps introduce you to trans mulberry headcanon

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 4

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

In that moment, Sky’s brain didn't function. 

She just sat there, staring at the gorgeous, gorgeous male across from her. She couldn’t think. Not when he looked like that. Not when he looked better than any figment her imagination had ever come up with…

He was…the most beautiful male Skylar Alden had ever seen. 

Everything about him was perfection. From his inky black hair, to his high, chiseled cheekbones, to his...his strong broad body that looked like it was just made to be pressed right up against hers. Gods...he looked like he was made from her deepest fantasies. He was...he was…

And then he gave her a slow, soft smile and her breath caught in her throat. 

Cauldron, he was  beautiful. Like every perfect fantasy she had ever had come to life. 

And he smelled even better than he looked, the scent of cedar and mist so mouthwateringly delicious she wanted to lick it straight off his damn skin. How a male could look this sinfully gorgeous and smell just as delicious, she didn't know. And he...he was smiling at her. Smiling at...her.

And she could feel the bond.

She could feel it.

Something…just clicked into place. Something in her chest shifted and it felt right and perfect and she just knew. 

Sky just knew that nobody else would ever come close to compare to him…

This was the male for her. He...he was hers.

Hers.

Her mate. 

Sky was a hopeless romantic. Maybe she needed to be that, so that she was able to write love stories for a living.

She loved love. She loved the whole fairytale, happily ever after fantasy. And looking at the male in front of her, it was like he came straight from the pages of her books.

But things like this didn’t happen to girls like her. She knew that. She knew that so well. She… he wasn’t going to want to…

Sky wasn't attractive enough, not interesting enough. Why would he choose her? Why would this gorgeous, gorgeous thing of beauty want to be with...someone like her?

It wouldn’t make sense. She wasn't...she wasn't anything special. He could do so much better than...than her.

She was so awkward, so plain. He was just...way out of her league.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her. Even his voice was perfect. One hand reached out for her, and she weakly registered the violent scars that covered it. They looked like they must have hurt. And then he seemingly thought better about it. “You…were happy.Now…”

That was the problem. She couldn't stop her stupid thoughts. They just kept on running through her brain, making her feel...feel self-conscious. Insecure. She was...she was just a mess. Always had been.

And she opened her mouth to respond but no word left her lips, her throat closing as she tried to say even a single sounds.

Tears shot in her eyes. Why? Just for one…just for one fucking time Sky didn’t want every word that left her mouth to be a fight.

But it was. And she tried to say a single thing but her body didn’t allow her, and her heart reatcheted up because she knew that she looked like an idiot but…She couldn't move. Couldn't...couldn't do anything but just sit there and cry like the pathetic, stupid mess she was. She didn't deserve him. He was...he was perfect. And Sky was just...useless.

He was just staring at her, looking...worried, probably so confused about why she was being like this. 

Stupid. So stupid. Like she always was. The tears kept falling, and she felt pathetic. So, so pathetic.

Her eyes closed as she fought back a sob, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. It was...it was too humiliating, being like this in front of him. She probably looked like a total freak. She...she just wished he didn't have to see her like this.

He shouldn't have to see her like this, see her being an absolute mess because she didn't know how to act like a normal person. She could feel him move, and her breath hitched. He...he was probably about to leave. She...she didn't blame him, really. She was an embarrassment.

But then a warm, broad hand was on top of her own trembling fingers, covering her with his own. Her eyes flew open from the shock, her lips parting in surpris, his gorgeous eyes fixed on hers as he gently stroked the back of her hands with his thumb.

“Take a deep breath, love. It’s alright,” he soothed her softly. “It’s alright.”

She could feel her heart flutter as his voice washed over her, warm like a balm over a burn. It just made her want to cry even more, because he...he was being so nice. So gentle with her, even though he probably thought that she was being utterly ridiculous.

“I…I….I am so….so…sorry.” Her stutter was so bad. Clearly at its worst. Worse than it even was when she didn’t have enough sleep.

She felt tears sliding down her cheeks even harder, her vision getting blurry as she tried to avoid his eyes. Her stupid, stupid stutter always got worse when she was upset. Like her brain shut down and she just...lost the ability to form basic sentences.

She tried to calm down, tried to stop crying, but it just kept going. The tears didn't stop, and god, she must've looked completely pathetic.

"I'm s-sorry." she sobbed, her voice a wretched, strangled sound as she tried to stop the shaking that wracked her entire body. She just wanted...she just wanted to be calm. To be normal.

And he had probably even heard Claire. Had probably heard every barbed word her sister had thrown in her direction.

The thought made her want to wail as the tears fell harder, her breathing growing laboured and uneven. He would never want her now. Not after she had embarrassed herself like this. Not after she just...sat here and cried and stuttered like an idiot.

She tried to pull away from his grasp, but he didn't let her, gently taking her hands in his. His fingers felt so warm on hers, and his touch was so, so gentle. It just made the tears fall even harder, an ugly, broken sound wrenching from her throat.

Sky wanted to stop, she wanted to stop crying and being so hysterical, but her stupid, worthless brain wouldn't co-operate.

And then suddenly he enveloped her against a broad chest, strong arms settling sround her. He was hugging her

It was like every fiber of her being froze, her heart nearly stopping as she felt his arms encircle her. It was like...like some kind of dream. He was hugging her, hugging her like she was precious to him, like he...he truly cared about her. After all of Sky’s awkwardness, and stupid, pathetic crying...he still was holding her like this.

“Breath,” he told her softly. “It’s alright. Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it.”

She took a deep, trembling breath, his scent washing over her. It was like he was everywhere, his arms tight and yet gentle around her, his broad chest pressed against hers, his cedar and mist scent in her nose. It just...it just made the tears fall all the more harder, a small, broken sob wringing itself from her throat.

Of course, his scent was just as amazing as he was. And it made her feel...feel safe. Like nothing could hurt her as long as he was there, like he would protect her from everything and anything. 

She buried her head in his chest, trying to block out the rest of the world as she held onto him so tightly she was sure she was probably hurting him. But still he didn't move, still he let her cling to him as she cried so hard it made her shake.

For once in her life Sky felt delicate in his grasp. She wasn’t thin at all, but against him…she felt small. She felt so safe pressed against him.Secure. Like she could let him hold her forever as she sobbed so hard she was practically convulsing. She knew he probably thought she was being pathetic, but still...but still, he was hugging her.

It was like she couldn't breathe. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribcage that it hurt to even draw in oxygen, her emotions completely overwhelming her. 

She could feel his fingers running through her brown curls, and the touch just made her cry even harder. She must have looked so awful, so miserable, but he just...he just held her like this. Like she mattered to him, like she wasn't a total, pathetic mess.

And finally…finally Sky managed to calm down.

It took a long while, but eventually, the sobs eased into small, shallow breaths as she curled up against his strong chest. Sky still felt...awful. Like a total idiot. But at least the tears had stopped.

“I….i am sor…sorry.” She managed to bring out.

“There is nothing you need to apologise for,” he told her gently, one hand still delicately rubbing her spine.

“I…I cri…cried all o…over you.”Her voice sounded scratchy and broken from all the crying, and she was so deeply ashamed of it. He probably thought she sounded ridiculous. But she took another deep breath and pressed on, trying to speak through her tears, her stupid stutter still making it hard for her to even form a single word.

He held out a handkerchief for her and she whiled away the tears.

She blinked a few times, staring at the piece of fabric. He...he was giving her something to dry her tears, because she was such a pathetic mess that she had completely soaked the front of his shirt. Shame made heat rise in her cheeks, but she took the handkerchief from him.

She dabbed away at her wet lashes, her voice weak and raspy as she spoke. "T-thank you," she said quietly, still not being able to meet his eyes. She still felt so humiliated, but also so, so grateful that he was still here, that he hadn't left yet.

Sy knew she probably looked completely dreadful, all red-eyed and blotchy from all the crying, her hair mess and tangled from where he had run his fingers through it. 

She wanted to curl up and die from the shame of it all. Of being such a stupid, messy, emotional wreck. She must have looked like such an idiot, but somehow, somehow he was still here. 

"Will you tell me your name?" he asked her softly.

Sky felt her heartbeat quicken as he spoke, as his voice washed over her. Of course. Of course he didn't even know her name. She had been so caught up in her little pity party that she hadn't even introduced herself yet. A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away as best as she was able.

"S---Sky," she managed to bring out. She grimaced at her stutter.  "S...Sorry." She didn't dare to try and say anything else. Didn't dare to try an ask him for his name, because otherwise she was going to stutter even more.

"There is absolutely nothing you need to apologise for," he repeated fiercely. "I am Azriel."

His words made something in her heart quicken, her stomach fluttering in a way that it shouldn't. A small, shaky breath left her lips at the sound of his name, and she couldn't help but repeat it to herself quietly in her head. Azriel. His name suited him perfectly.

She looked up at him, finally looking at him properly, only to find that he was looking right back at her, those deep, hazel eyes fixed on her in a way that made her heart stutter in her chest. She probably looked awful, a total wreck, and yet he was still looking at her like that.

She opened her mouth to try and speak, but only a tiny, broken squeak left her lips. So she tried again, forcing the words out from between her lips. "Azriel." His name felt so good on her lips, even if her voice broke on the second syllable, but still, she had managed to say it.

He smiled that beautiful smile of his once more, and the sight of it made her want to cry all over again. How was it that this perfect male was still here, was still looking at her like...like she was something precious? Like she was anything other than a total wreck?! She just...she just wanted to die from the humiliation of it all.

"Tell me what's wrong." It wasn't as much a statement as much as it was an order. "You were happy. And then you just..."

She sniffled, trying to stop herself from crying even more than she already had. It was hard, her eyes blinking as tears continued to well up and fall. "It's..." She took in a raspy, stuttering breath, her lips trembling. "It's ju…ju…st...just me being...being stu…stupid."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," Azriel responded, his voice flat. "Take a deep breath. And then tell me what's wrong so I can fix this."

She blinked a few times, looking at him. He was so...straightforward. Direct. So commanding, but also so gentle. Like he actually cared. She felt...she felt so, so unworthy of that. She didn't deserve his kindness, not after acting like a complete lunatic. Still, she obeyed, taking a deep, shaky breath before trying to speak.

"You...You de…de…deserve bet…better than…than me," she whispered. Her voice was quiet, little more than a whisper, and she felt her throat thicken as she spoke. It was true, and she...she couldn't believe he was being so gentle with her. Not with how ridiculous she was being.

He stared at. "What."

She looked down, focusing her eyes on her hands that were clutched in her lap. His own hand was still resting gently on the nape of her neck. "I...I am..." She took a deep breath, forcing herself to try to explain. "You...You…you are…you. And I…I am…me.” He was so handsome. And she wasn’t beautiful in the slightest. 

Sky blinked a few times, trying not to start crying even more than she had already done. It was just so...hard. So hard to admit how...how unworthy she was of him. He was amazing, and she was a total mess. 

A complete emotional disaster.

And he was going to realise that one day and leave or cheat on her with her sister and that was going to crush her heart and...

She tried so hard to blink away the tears that welled up in her eyes. She knew...she knew that this was just a temporary thing. That he was only being this kind to her out of pity. He would see how awful she truly was, and he would leave, just like everyone else did.

"Cauldron, Love, they really did a number on you," he breathed.

She sniffled, wiping the tears that fell from her cheeks. She knew that. She knew that she was unloveable. That there was something fundamentally wrong with her. And she hated it. 

"You…you'll cho…ch…choose s…s…somebody el…else and…and I get it b…but it's go…going to h…hurt and..." she croaked out.

"I am not going to choose somebody else," he cut her off. "You are my mate."

She blinked, her heart stuttering in her chest at his words. It felt...it felt like a dream. It didn't feel real. There was no way, just no way in Hell that someone like him was her mate. She was...there was absolutely no universe where she deserved him.

"That means that until you tell me to disappear off the face of this earth, you are stuck with me," he told her softly. "That means, that I will always choose you. I will always be on your side. I will protect you and I will shelter you."

She just stared at him as her heart hammered so hard against her ribcage that she wanted to pass out. Was he....was...was he being serious? Even as broken and awful as she was...how she had just completely fallen apart in front of him....he was still...he was still saying that she was...was his mate? That he would...that he would always choose her? Protect her...shelter her?

Her side...nobody had ever seemingly been on her side.

"I..." She was at a total loss for words. Him...him wanting to...to protect her? To shelter her? It was everything she had ever wanted. But she was so, so terrified that it was all...temporary. That the moment he saw her for all the broken, damaged things that she really was...that he would leave. Everyone always left.

He lifted his hand and she leaned against it as he cupped her cheek, wiping away even more tears. "You are my mate," Azriel repeated softly. "And if I had dared to approach while your sister was still there, I probably would have wrung your sister’s neck for what she said to you."

Sky felt a small, trembling smile begin to curl at her lips. He...he was her mate. She still couldn't believe it, but there it was. He was her mate, and he actually wanted her. Not only did he want her, but he was willing to...to defend her. To protect her. To stand up for her, even against her own sister. It was more than she could ever have asked for, more than she had ever hoped for herself. And the thought...the thought of that nearly made her cry all over again.

"It's…It’s bet…better to just…to just let Cla…Claire get it out of her sys…system and not inter…in…interrupt her," she said weakly. "She runs out of steam eventual…eventually."

"You shouldn't let her speak to you like that," Azriel said softly, his hand still resting gently against her cheek. "You shouldn't have to endure her venom."

She swallowed thickly, her throat tight. She knew that, she knew that she shouldn't let Claire speak to her in such a horrible way, that she should defend herself. But...but it had just never happened. She had always been too caught up in her own head, too afraid of...of doing something wrong. Of making everything worse instead of better. Because it always seemed to end up worse whenever she tried to stand up for herself.

But...but hearing him say it....hearing him tell her that she didn't have to put up with Claire's horrible words...it made something flutter in her chest. Something akin to hope. The thought that maybe....maybe she didn't need to listen to Claire's vicious words, that maybe...maybe she could stand up for herself after all.

"She's the fa…fa…favourite," she said weakly. "Always…s wa..was. The pret…prettier one."

She sniffled, her stomach twisting at the thought of it. Claire had always been the preferred one, the one that everyone adored. And Skye had always been...well, the other one. The one that nobody wanted to be around, the one that everyone was constantly criticizing.

"She's bone deep ugly," Azriel snapped right back. "There is nothing attractive about her at all." She could just stare at him.

She blinked at him, almost in shock at his words. No one ever said things like that about Claire. Everyone was always so busy praising her beauty and her grace and her charm, but never a single one of them would ever say a single negative thing about her. But here was Azriel, outright saying that Claire wasn't attractive at all. It was...it was hard to even wrap her head around.

"You say tha…that now," Sky said weakly.She swallowed thickly, her heart clenching at the very thought of him ever changing his mind. She knew....she knew that it was a very real possibility. He might think her worthy of him now, but as soon as he got to know her....how pathetic and broken and damaged she was. The thought of losing this....losing him...it made her stomach twist painfully.

She sniffled again, wiping tears away from her cheeks, her voice weak and broken. "You won…won't think tha..that..." she whispered. "When you...when you know me more. You'll think I'm path…pathetic, too. Just like Claire does. Just like every…everyone does."

The words felt like acid in her throat, like a knife twisting through her heart. She knew that it was true, that he would think her pathetic, too. He was only being so kind to her now because he didn't really know her yet. Once he got to know her....once he saw all the broken pieces that made her up....he would realize just how unworthy she was of him.

"I think that you spent your whole life being talked to like that, and that no fucking accolade you ever got was something you take seriously." Azriel's words were harsh, and they made her come up short. 

Sky had always thought that maybe...maybe the next time she achieved something her parents would be proud of her. That they would finally tell her that she had done well. But it had never happened. They were never proud of her accomplishments, no matter how good they were. She was never good enough for them, never anything enough for them. They always just...just told her that she needed to do better. That she had the capacity to do better. That it was her fault she hadn't.

And when she had published her first book...she hadn't wanted them to ruin that for her. So she had kept it a secret from them. Then the 2nd. And the 3rd. Book after book after book. People liked what she wrote. People bought her books. And still it felt like...it wasn't real.

No matter how many books she sold, it never felt like it counted. It never felt like she had actually achieved something. And no matter how much money she had in the bank, no matter how well she fed herself or kept a roof over her head, it just...it all felt like it was built on a fragile foundation. Like it could all come falling down around her at any moment, leaving her alone, cold, and broken. 

Just like how this mating bond could seemingly break just at a snap of his fingers.

That feeling only got worse when she thought about the bond between her and Azriel. It was so new, so fragile, and she knew that he could break it if he wanted to. He didn't have to keep it, didn't have to stay by her side. He could just...just walk away and leave her in the dust. The thought made her stomach clench painfully, her eyes stinging with more tears.

"I don't want your sister. I want you," he told her softly. "You are my mate, Sky. Turn me down if you don't want me, but don't do it because you think that I don't want you. Because I do. I have never wanted anything in my life more."

His words made her heart sing, the warmth of them filling her chest to bursting. She...she didn't think she had ever been wanted in her entire life. Her parents had always been so quick to shove her aside, to tell her that she was worthless and a failure. But Azriel....he actually wanted her. He actually saw something worth keeping in her. It was more than she had ever dreamed of, the thought so impossibly perfect that it made her feel like she was going to burst into tears all over again.

Sky just stared at him, unsure of what to say, how to respond to such an open expression of adoration from him. She had never been good at accepting compliments or affection, her automatic response was always to push it away. But here was Azriel, telling her that he wanted her, that she was his mate. And how could she even think about pushing that away? How could she even consider rejecting the best thing that had ever happened to her? It was an impossible thought, one that left her feeling awed and speechless.

So instead of saying anything, Sky simply reached for him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly, burying her face in his neck. She felt safe here, in his arms, like nothing could hurt her as long as he was holding her close. And in that moment, she felt more than anything that this, this was where she belonged. 

In his arms, with Azriel as her mate. It was everything she had ever wanted, and she was determined to hold onto it as tightly as she possibly could.

"I won't ev..ever turn you down," she whispered. "I was waiting for you for de…decades."

"Decades? Try half a millennia," Azriel responded.

Azriel's words made her heart stutter in her chest, her stomach twisting with butterflies. He...he had waited for her for so long?

All that time, he had been waiting patiently for his mate, and that mate had been her? It was more than she could even wrap her head around. She had always thought that no one would ever want her, that she was destined to be alone, and yet here he was, telling her that he had been waiting for her for centuries.

So Sky just clung to him, her eyes stinging with a fresh wave of tears. She couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that she was actually so important to someone. That she had actually been....been wanted by someone.She felt so unbelievably lucky, and all she wanted to do was hold on to this feeling for as long as possible. This feeling of being loved and wanted and...and worthy.

She sat back, even when she wanted nothing else but to keep being held by him, managing a weak smile. Sky couldn’t help but stare at him, couldn’t help but take in the black hair and dark hazel eyes that glinted green…and then her gaze snagged at the pair of massive, ferocious wings that sprouted from his back.

“You are Il…Illyrian?” she asked, surprise colouring her voice.

She didn't know why she was so surprised. Maybe because because there weren’t a lot of illyrians that lived in Velaris…maybe because he really didn’t seem to match the picture that most books she had read about them and their culture painted about them. 

His wings were… magnificent. Azriel’s wings were so massive, so huge and powerful, and they seemed to span an impossible distance even when  he had them folded carefulyl against his back. 

“What gave it away?” He quipped, though the ere was a grimace on his face. “I am not…whatever you may have heard…”

She flinched slightly, feeling a small pang of guilt at her reaction to his wings. She knew that Illyrians had a reputation for being brutal and ruthless, but she hadn't meant to make Azriel feel uncomfortable or ashamed of his heritage. 

"I am sor…sorry," she said sheepishly. “I was…just su…surprised. There aren’t a lot of Il…Illyrians around Velaris. I've never seen wings like yours before, j…just read about them. They're beautiful."

She looked up at him, hoping that he could see the sincerity in her gaze. She didn't want him to feel like she was judging him based on his species, or that she was scared of him just because he was Illyrian or a lesser Fae. 

“I…I got some River Nymph blood some…somewhere down the line,” she told him.”It’s the family s…scandal.”

He chuckled at that, even as he mustered her.“Your eyes,” he realised aloud, and she nodded

She blushed slightly, her heart leaping at the thought of him noticing such a small detail about her. To know that he had taken the time to observe her eyes, to notice the faint turquoise hue that came from the bit of River Nymph blood flowing through her veins, regardless of how diluted it was…It made her feel like he truly saw her, not just the broken, damaged parts of her, but everything that made her who she was.

“Gre…Great grandma from my dads s..side,” she explained. “I was the only one who got the eyes…and the bendy bones.” She had always been seen as the odd one in her family. The outcast. Growing up, it had been hard to know where she fit in. Her parents had always been so focused on her brother and her sister, on their achievements and successes, and she had always felt like she was just...there. Just existing in the background, never quite good enough to be noticed or noticed for all the wrong reasons.

“Tell me more,” Azriel requested softly, reaching out to hold her hand again.

“More of what?” she wondered, blushing slightly. 

“More about you. I want to know everything.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his request. He...he wanted to know more about her? He actually wanted to listen to her, to hear what she had to say? The thought was almost enough to make her cry all over again. No one had ever asked her about herself before, no one had ever expressed an interest in her life or her thoughts. She had always been the one listening to others, never the one being listened to…especially not with her stutter. 

”I am not that interes…interesting,” Sky said weakly.She had always been self-conscious about what she liked and didn't like, always been afraid that others would judge her for her preferences. Even the thought of telling Azriel what she enjoyed doing for fun made her feel nervous and unsure. She didn't want him to think she was boring or uninteresting, and yet...and yet she also wanted to be honest with him. She wanted him to know who she really was, even if that meant showing all her quirks and flaws.

“I write boo…books for a..for a living,” Sky told him “R…Romance novels. And I have a cat named Hector that’s …that’s ador…adorable.”

Azriel grinned at her. “I can’t wait to meet him.” She blushed at that thought. 

She had always been nervous about talking to people, about opening up and letting them know who she was, but with Azriel...it felt different. It felt right.

“What…What do you do?” Sky wondered quietly.

“I work for the High Lord,” Azriel answered. “I…gather intelligence, I guess you could say.”

"Intelligence?" she asked curiously. She had never heard of anyone who did something like that before. It sounded like a dangerous job, one that required a lot of skill and training. Azriel nodded, his expression serious. 

"Yes. I gather information about...about threats to our court. About the dangers that lurk in the world around us."

She shivered slightly at the thought of some of the dangers that Azriel had to face on a regular basis. On the things that he was confronted with every single way…He was doing what was necessary to protect their people from harm. SHe knew that it must took a lot of courage and determination to do a job like that, and she couldn’t help but feel a wave of respect for him.

Sky took a deep breath, "Is it....is it danger…dangerous? Gathering all that…all that information?" She asked nervously. "I…I mean, do…do you ev…ever...get hurt?"

Azriel's expression darkened, and he hesitated for a moment before answering. "Sometimes," he admitted. "There are always risks involved in what I do. I have been injured before, but I have also been very lucky. I have survived so far."

She shivered at the thought of him being hurt, of him being in danger. Sky couldn't bear the thought of him being harmed, of him being in pain. She wanted to protect him, to keep him safe from all the horrors of the world. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, this overwhelming need to protect someone else. But with Azriel, she felt it with every fiber of her being. She would do anything to keep him safe, to make sure he never got hurt again.

Sky took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly. "Please…Please be careful," she whispered, her eyes full of fear and worry. "I…I don't want an…anything to happen to you." I don't want to lose you. The words were unspoken, but she knew that he could hear them in her voice, in the way her fingers trembled against his.

“I am careful,” he promised her seriously. “Besides, I am not exactly on my own,” he told her seriously.

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of her. "You…You're not on…on your own?" she asked, surprised. "Who…Who do you work with then?"

A moment later…she got her answer in the form of wreathing shadows, that welled up behind him.

For a moment Sky could just blink. 

Then: “You are a shadowsinger?!” She breathed in wonder. 

She had read about it, of course…when she had a whole phase of thinking how cool it would be if she had some kind of special powers. Sadly, there never had any manifested. No shadows for her…or mind reading either. 

Azriel chuckled softly at her reaction. "Yes," he said simply. "It's a useful skill in my line of work."

She stared at him in awe. She had read stories of the fabled shadowsingers, of their ability to control shadows and use them to do their bidding. But she had never actually met one before. They were…stupidly rare.” But clearly Azriel was one. 

“Do…Do they…talk to you?” She asked him curiously.

Azriel nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, they do," he said. "They have their own personality and quirks, and I can communicate with them in a way that no one else can. It's a unique connection, one that I…I have grown to cherish."

They were important to him.

So Sky did the only polite thing. “It’s…nice to meet you.” She greeted them, holding out a hand. 

Azriel's shadows seemed to pause for a moment, as if taken aback by her greeting. Then they swirled around her, brushing against her skin in a gesture of introduction. 

She couldn't help but smile at the sensation of the shadows brushing against her skin, their touch neither hot nor cold. They seemed almost sentient, like they had a mind of their own. It was both strange and fascinating at the same time. "Do you have…a name?" she asked curiously.

Azriel chuckled. "No, they don’t have a name. It's just...the shadows."

She nodded in understanding. They did seem…weirdly alive. And they were so responsive to Azriel's commands, so attuned to his needs and desires, that it was hard not to think of them as a separate entity in their own right.

But still…as she wiggled her fingers and the shadows wove between them, she couldn’t help but wonder…

"What...what d…do you wan..want from me?" Sky asked him softly. What did he want? What did he expect? 

Azriel's expression softened, and he reached out to cup her cheek gently in his hand. "I want...I want whatever you are willing to give me," he said quietly. "I want to be there for you, to support you and protect you. I want to make you happy, to make you feel loved and cherished. And I want...I want to be your mate, if you'll have me."

Sky bit her lip, leaning into his touch. "I…I want that t…too," she admitted quietly. "And I really want a family one day. I want kids," she told him. 

"I want that too," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and love. "I want everything with you, Sky. All of it."

She couldn't help but smile at that admission. Hearing him say that He wanted the same thing, hearing him say that He wanted to build a future with her...it was like a dream come true. And then Skylar Alden who had always overthought everything in her life, made this one decision: "Then take me home."

[r3ynah]

Yoo, same

Kon stood nervously beside the shut front door of his family home (which was currently empty due to every single family member of his were busy), he fiddled with his fingers, his senses seemingly becoming more and more sensitive as time went on, glancing up at the grandfather clock Mr. Bruce Wayne gifted to them every so often.

This was the day, the day Kon will tell his first ever long time 'normal' best friend his secret, finally after so many years he could really free himself from the guilt of lying and hiding his identity to Dani, he imagines the hilarious shocked face Dani will make when Kon tells her his Super boy, and how excited she will be not even sparing him a minute to answer her dozens of questions, Kon chuckled to himself as the idea swam in his mind.

But his chuckles, were stopped as a thought floated up in his head 'What if it'll be the other way? what if she'll never talk to me ever again?' Kon silently thought as he tapped his foot overwhelmed by the thought of his best friend not seeing him as a regular human being anymore and just a clone freak, he didn't want that the black hair blue-eyed girl despite her features was not part of the Wayne family, which shocked Kon upon their first meeting due to the fact Dani also lived in Gotham.

But Kon found out soon enough that Dani lived with her older siblings, a cool older sister named Jazz, Jazz had red hair, but her smile was the same as Dani's, and an odd older brother who Kon thought at first was her Twin brother, it didn't help that their names was also very similar Dani having an i, while her older brother Danny had a Y, they were cool people, Kon would like to hang out with them more often, but that'll will only happen if Dani still sees Kon as Kon after this discussion.

But is it all worth it? to just reveal it his life, his identity? after all Dani was the only time Kon ever felt normal, he wanted to be happy, he wanted to be understood, he wanted to be normal, he wanted to be selfish, he wanted Dani.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door which startles him greatly, he knows who's at the opposite of door, after all only one person can ever go sneak up on him a surprise him to death, 'Dani' was the only thing he can think about as he turned the doorknob to open the front door.

And "Dani" was the only thing he breathed out as he faced the girl that stood Infront of him, Dani always liked to put on comfy and edgy clothes that makes people mistake her for a boy if it weren't for her long hair, which Kon realized Dani never cared if she was called the opposite gender she finds it as a compliment, her regular long side bangs that usually resides on the right side of her face was put up with a hair clip, her face was in full view, and even the gods can't fathom on how pretty she was.

She smiled at him with her oddly crooked sharp teeth, and Kon knew he was in danger right there and then, but for the reasons you don't think it is.

"Heya Konnie, what made you call me in like the middle of the semester?" Dani asked as she tilted her head, "Just want to talk with you." Kon stated as he moved to the side to give her room to head in, after letting Dani walked in Kon closed the door behind her.

"Come follow me, let's go to the balcony" Kon said as he grabbed Dani's wrist to drag her where she complied easily and just let Kon do his thing, Kon breathed out the trust Dani had in him, made him want to just breakdown right there in the middle of the living room floor, because he knows that after this there will be a chance Dani won't want to be there to spend the life they had imagined in the past together in the near future.

But he kept himself strong after all there was still the other positive half.

They had reached the balcony in less than 3 minutes, Kon sat silently on one of the sofas placed, Dani following and sitting on the left side, Dani put her head on top of Kon's shoulder, and Kon let's her, Dani took Kon's hands and played with them putting his ring on different fingers, Kon let's her, she tangles her hands with Kon's, and Kon let's her.

"Dani..." Kon let out, Dani hummed in response

"I need to confess to you about something." Kon mumbled, this time Dani looked up at him.

"What is it?" Dani asked, Kon looked down at her, meeting her eyes was hard, did it ever get this suffocating when talking to her in the past?

definitely not. there was no time, place, or event Kon ever felt uncomfortable with her next to him. Kon slowly got onto his knees Infront of Dani making her confused.

"Konnie? why are you kneeling" Dani giggled as she found the scene Infront of her utterly funny but stopped when she saw how serious Kon looked and how his hands that were still holding onto Dani's was trembling. "Kon, are you okay?"

"Danielle, I have been hiding something from you for a very long time, and I can't handle keeping it for much longer" Kon's voice trembled, there was no turning back the consequences can come later, he needs to let this guilty burden out of his chest. he looks up at Dani with her eyebrows furrowed and blue eyes that glinted in worry.

she looks ethereal and only heaven knows on how Kon yearns for his best friend.

"I'm Super boy" Kon uttered out his voice cracking but only slightly.

He yearns to tell her the truth.

"I have been Super boy even before we met"

He yearns for her approval

"Not only that, but I'm also a clone of the one and only Superman"

He yearns for her acceptance

"I'm sorry for lying and hiding my identity from you."

He yearns for her forgiveness

"Dani, I love you so much it hurts." he went quiet his body full of anxiety his knees became weak as he observed any signs of emotion in the black-haired girl's face.

He yearns for her.

And he has a feeling she know it too.

Is this it? everything they worked hard for this friendship disappearing just like that, on this day, here in the balcony? please no, his heart couldn't possibly take that, she wants her beside him, he'll take any route of destiny as long as she stays, even if she turns to despise his very being, he'll take it with no hesitation.

As long as she's with me, everything's worth it.

He didn't even realize he was crying until he felt a pair of hands caressing his face wiping his tears in the process, Dani made him look at her, she smiled at him softly then she opened her mouth and uttered "It's okay I forgive you, thank you for telling me." Dani held him close and let Kon's head rest on her chest. "I promise you, I'm not going anywhere, after all any place I'll go will be painstakingly boring without you beside me."

Finally letting go of the mixed emotions that had built inside of him, Kon cried, he cried until his throat became sore and his eyes became red from the tears, and Dani stayed until the very end just like she promised.

PLUS SCENE

Kon laid on the sofa tired and lazily staring at the ceiling, a random cartoon show played from the TV, one of his hands was holding onto to Dani's Hand, as the girl looked focused on the show, Kon let his eyes close for a second succumbing to the peace, until Dani opened her mouth.

"You said earlier that you were a clone, right?" Dani asked her eyes remained on the TV

Kon hummed "yeah why?"

"Yoo, same" Dani laughed, her reply made the exhaustion from Kon's body leave immediately, he sat straight up and his mouth open as he looked at Dani in surprise.

"Excuse me, WHAT??" Kon stated in disbelief, Dani bent over clutching her stomach as she laughed at his reaction.

[rose24207]

I. LOVE. MAFIA. LANDO. 🥵

Can I please request where the reader and Lando dated but lando broke up with her because he wanted to keep her safe, heartbroken and angry reader goes on date with a guy she met while shopping but what she didn't know was this guy an enemy of Lando and Lando being himself didn't stop loving reader and kinda stalks her with secrety camera everywhere she goes and his men looking after her from a far and when they tell Lando who they saw asking reader on date and her agreeing he goes to her house angry but reader just doesn't care and that's when Lando tells her everything. And a happy ending, please.

If he gets too close…

Summary: Lando breaks up with you to keep you safe from his dangerous world, but when you unknowingly agree to a date with one of his enemies, his protective instincts override his restraint, forcing him to confront both his feelings and the secrets he’s kept from you.

Genre: Mafia!Lando

TW: Mafia, breakup, stalking

A/N: et voilà! There you go!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The night Lando broke up with you was one of the worst nights of your life.

You remembered the way he stood in the dimly lit living room, his hands in his pockets, his expression distant. It felt as though the air between you had frozen solid. His usual warmth—the soft eyes, the small smiles—was gone.

“It’s over, Y/N.”

His voice was cold, resolute. It felt like a punch to the chest.

“What?” you whispered, disbelief rendering you breathless.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Lando said, avoiding your eyes. “It’s not safe—for you. I thought I could make it work, but I can’t. You deserve better.”

You stepped closer, your voice trembling. “What are you talking about? I don’t need better, Lando. I need you.”

He flinched at your words but shook his head, jaw tightening. “This world I’m in—it’s dangerous, Y/N. I can’t keep pretending that I can protect you from it. The people I deal with… they’d hurt you just to get to me.”

“So what?” you shot back, tears streaming down your face. “You think breaking up with me will keep me safe? That I’ll just stop loving you because you’re scared?”

He closed his eyes, as though your words physically hurt him, but when he opened them again, his resolve was ironclad.

“You have to move on,” he said, his voice like stone. “Forget about me.”

And then, without another word, he left.

Heartbroken and angry, you tried your best to piece your life back together. You threw yourself into work, met up with friends, and tried to forget the ache in your chest every time you thought of Lando.

One afternoon, while shopping in the city, a stranger approached you. He was handsome, charming, and persistent. You’d brushed him off at first, but after weeks of wallowing, you decided to give it a chance.

“Why not?” you said with a small smile when he asked you out for coffee.

You didn’t notice the man in the corner of the café, pretending to read a newspaper. You didn’t see the subtle nod he gave to someone outside. You certainly didn’t know that Lando’s eyes were on you the entire time, watching through the discreet camera feeds he had set up around your apartment and the places you frequented.

The sight of you sitting across from another man felt like a knife twisting in Lando’s chest. He stared at the monitor in his office, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

“Who is he?” Lando asked, his voice low and dangerous.

One of his men cleared his throat nervously. “We’ve identified him, sir. His name is Matteo Costa. He’s connected to the Mancini family.”

Lando’s blood ran cold. The Mancinis were one of his biggest rivals—a dangerous, ruthless crime family. The thought of you being anywhere near one of them sent a surge of fury through him.

“She doesn’t know who he is,” Lando muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“No, sir,” the man confirmed. “It seems like a coincidence. She met him while shopping.”

Lando stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I want eyes on her at all times. If he gets too close…” His voice trailed off, the threat unspoken but clear.

The man nodded. “Understood.”

When Lando showed up at your apartment later that night, you weren’t surprised. You’d expected anger, but the intensity in his eyes startled you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively.

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his presence overwhelming. “I need to talk to you.”

You scoffed, trying to mask the sting of seeing him after so long. “Now you want to talk? After you told me to move on?”

“Who was the man you were with today?” Lando demanded, his voice sharp.

You blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“The man,” Lando repeated, stepping closer. “At the café. Who was he?”

Your confusion quickly turned to anger. “Why does it matter? You don’t get to act possessive after breaking my heart, Lando.”

“I’m trying to protect you,” he said through gritted teeth.

You laughed bitterly. “Protect me? From what? From you?”

“From him,” Lando snapped. “He’s not who you think he is, Y/N. Matteo Costa works for the Mancinis. He’s dangerous.”

You froze, the weight of his words sinking in. “What are you talking about?”

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is why I left, Y/N. My world is filled with people like him—people who would hurt you just to get to me. I thought if I stayed away, you’d be safe.”

“And what? You’ve been stalking me ever since?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

“Yes,” Lando admitted without hesitation. “Because I couldn’t stop. Because I can’t stop caring about you.”

You stared at him, torn between anger and disbelief. “You think this justifies what you did? Breaking my heart and then spying on me?”

“I never stopped loving you,” Lando said quietly, his eyes searching yours. “Everything I’ve done was to keep you safe.”

“You can’t keep doing this, Lando,” you said, your voice breaking. “You can’t just show up and tell me what to do. You don’t get to control my life anymore.”

“I’m not trying to control you,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m trying to protect you. Matteo isn’t some random guy. He’s a threat.”

“I didn’t know that!” you shot back. “All I knew was that someone finally showed interest in me after you left me shattered. What was I supposed to do? Sit around waiting for you to change your mind?”

Lando’s expression softened, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Well, you didn’t,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “You hurt me more than anyone ever has.”

Lando reached out, hesitating before brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought I was protecting you, but I see now that I was wrong.”

The next day, Lando didn’t waste any time. He arranged a meeting with Matteo, making it clear that their interaction wouldn’t be civil.

“Stay away from her,” Lando growled, his fists clenched.

Matteo smirked, unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lando stepped closer, his voice dangerously low. “If you so much as look at her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The tension in the room was palpable, but Matteo finally relented, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Message received.”

When Lando returned to your apartment that night, he looked exhausted but relieved.

“What did you do?” you asked, your voice wary.

“I took care of it,” he said simply, sitting beside you. “Matteo won’t bother you again.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know what to do with you, Lando.”

“Just let me love you,” he said softly, taking your hand in his. “Let me make it right.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes breaking down your walls. Despite everything, you still loved him.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Lando’s smile was small but genuine, and as he pulled you into his arms, you felt the weight of the past few weeks begin to lift.

Whatever the future held, you knew one thing for certain: Lando Norris was yours, and he would protect you at all costs.

Thank you for reading!

[klausysworld]

I don’t know why but I really want something with Klaus breaking reads heart.

Maybe…. Reader and Cami have been kidnapped and Klaus has to choose who to save. He chooses Cami but before reader can be killed Elijah saves her.

Left for dead

Living with the originals was hard enough. Between the betrayals and the wars just within the family was overwhelming let alone outsiders going out of their way to destroy each of them.

Being with Klaus was already difficult, between his mood swings and temper tantrum’s he wasn't an easy person to love and yet I did.

Even when I realised he was in love with someone else, even whilst knowing he was kissing someone else, I didn't leave him. I loved him with everything in me whether it was killing me or not.

I had offered my life for his, I took life for his and I ruined my own life for his. With Klaus came his family and I did everything I could to welcome them as my own. Even after I found out that his sister knew that he was seeing someone else.

Hope was treated the way I would treat my own daughter and I loved more than anyone else to walk the planet. Maybe that was why I stayed, for Hope. Or maybe that’s what I tell myself because how could I have been pathetic enough to stay for a an who only saw me as a warm body.

For some reason I had it in my head that perhaps he loved both me and Camille. Maybe he thought I wouldn't accept it and so he kept it a secret but surely after everything he should know that I would never try to change him or invalidate his feelings. It was stupid to be okay with him seeing Cami behind my back, I was blinded by something I had created in my mind.

I would smile when Cami was near and I tried to talk to Klaus but he labelled me paranoid and brushed it off. So I thought maybe he regretted it and he didn't want me to know because he wanted to stop. Maybe he did still love me.

This was the ultimate test really.

Both myself and Camille were beaten until black, blue and bloody. A loop of our cries and screams echoed through my mind and bounced against the walls of whatever dungeon we were seemingly chained within. I had no way of knowing how long we had been there but my body and soul felt such a sense of relief when Klaus's voice rang through the building. That feeling only lasted a few seconds before our captures taunting replayed in my head:

"Klaus will choose between you both, he will decide who lives or dies. He may think that he can have it all, have you both but I won't let him well. Whichever one he chooses, the guilt from the other will eat away at him, he won't be able to stay with the other. You will all end up broken and alone." he had whispered cruelly.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she watched Klaus approach them both, his hands coated in red as he forced the bars that separated us apart and went to step through only to let out a gasp and drop to his knees. The with who had tortured us for however long appeared from thin air in front of Klaus and I automatically pulled my legs to my chest to hide in the corner.

"Only one of them leaves" he stated, a grin on his face. "I don't care which but you will choose one or they both die and the next to go missing will be your daughter"

At his words Klaus let out a vicious snarl and attempted to lurch forward at the man but a sharp pain forced its way to his head and caused a loud yell of pain to burst from within him.

I could feel my eyes burning with another flow of tears just watching his pain, knowing what he felt. I could see Cami staring straight at me. Over our time in here together she had often brought up Klaus's ultimatum, I told her that I knew that they loved each other. I told her that he would choose her. She was certain that I was wrong and that Klaus didn't love her but just used her as a release. But I knew what Klaus looked like when he was in love. Even so part of me hoped she was right, it was a dark thought, a horrible hope that I wish I didn't have but I really wanted it to be true.

I looked back to Camille, a tight lipped smile that was probably more of a grimace formed on my lips as I mouthed the words 'it'll be okay' to her and her head shook as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Cami was sweet, she was lovely and I loathed it. She wanted to die instead of me, she said I deserved to live more than she did. That I was Hope's second mother I was apart of the Mikaelsons. She apologised for ever being with Klaus and it just made me feel worse. I thought that maybe they were lies, maybe she secretly hoped that Klaus would choose her and I would be left to die.

I couldn't tell and it didn't really matter anymore. Not when I realised that Klaus was right in front of me. I felt a small spark of hope as his arms wrapped around me and he pulled my close to his chest. A soft sniffle left him and his lips pressed to the side and top of my head

"I'm so sorry" his voice whispered with a crack and I went to tell him it was okay before I felt him pulling away and I realised what he was apologising for "forgive me" he uttered as he made his way to Cami.

My eyes stayed blurry with tears but they didn't fall as a complete feeling of numbness spread throughout me completely. I could hear my captures sickening laugh spin around me and I could hear Camille asking Klaus what he was doing.

"Klaus- go back to her" she whispered but he shook his head

"I love you" he admitted and a bitter laugh left my lips. I covered my mouth with my hands and pressed my forehead against my knees. I shouldn’t have been surprised and I shouldn’t have been so upset. I knew he loved her, I knew he would choose but for some reason it hurt so much more when he actually confirmed it.

I could hear Camille apologising to me as Klaus lifted her up, carrying her to a safety I thought I would never again know.

As soon as they left hands were on me, grabbing and dragging me by my hair to force me to crawl wherever he wanted me. Uncontrollable pain shot through me continuously and I had no time to comprehend the sobs that shook my body. I felt my back arch painfully, almost breaking but not quite, my head was forced back so my neck was bared and a sharp knife went to the edge of my neck.

"it's unfortunate really..." the voice uttered before the blade began to sink into my throat. My eyes closed and I welcomed the quick death but the pressure stopped and a thud sounded from before me.

Fingers pressed to the place the knife had began to cut, a familiar scent engulfed me and an arm circled my waist.

"You're alright darling" the voice whispered, pulling me into an embrace making me grab onto the back of his suit silently. "He's gone now Y/n. You're safe." he murmured softly, rubbing my back before i felt him pull back a little bit. My eyes slowly cracked open to see his face, his deep dark eyes boring into mine with a knowing look of pity. Silently I watched as an array of reds and purples scattered under his chocolate brown eyes and his pearly fangs dipped into the tough skin of his wrist. The fresh wound was lifted to my lips and I accepted the metallic taste with a sigh. I drank for much longer than I needed, I expected he would pull be off but his hand only pet the back of my head gently

"Good girl" he whispered "just heal". His touch made my heart hurt and I didn't bother trying to stop the tears from falling anymore. My hands clutched onto his jacket desperately and I gulped his blood down as though it was water.

Soft touches were given to the skin of my face before his silk handkerchief cleaned at the dirt and dried blood that had dripped down my neck. Reluctantly I pulled away from his wrist and licked my lips clean. He wiped his own wrist and tucked the material away into his pocket. Elijah proceeded to pull the jacket off of his body and instead wrapped it around my shoulders. The inside was warm and smelt of home.

My eyes felt heavy with exhaustion and I gave him a tired smile making him frown.

"I'll bring you home now okay?" he whispered but I shook my head

"I can't go back" I muttered "I won't stay with him anymore. I should have left ages ago" I admitted and his eyes grew glossier.

"Where should I take you?" He asked gently and I shrugged

"Airport? Train station? I don't care just don't tell anyone you saved me? Please?" I begged softly and he nodded.

"I'll give you whatever you need" he promised "anything"

[blog-o-meter]

House of Whispers (Part 1) - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) always knew her place — she was just the housekeeper’s daughter and, at times, Nicholas’s secret escape. But when he returns from Los Angeles 5 years later and moves back into his family’s estate with a pregnant girlfriend in tow, buried truths resurface.

warnings: 18+, angst, unprotected p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, cheating, cursing, arguing, outdoor sex, idk what else honestly

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

word count: 28,830

a/n: I literally dreamt this a week ago and thought it would make a good fic 😭 also I didn’t plan on splitting this one up into two parts but I didn't know Tumblr had a block limit! so part 2 is already written and ready to go, I'm just gonna wait a few days to upload it so pls enjoy part 1 <3

Part 1 | Part 2

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

The house was buzzing with anticipation — staff members fluttering around trying to tidy everything up even though the entire house was always pristine and nothing was ever out of place, the personal chef rushing to have the brunch menu perfectly plated and worthy of being on the cover of Food & Wine, and yard workers making sure every blade of grass and every petal of a flower was watered and lively. I had been in charge of making sure the guest suite was spotless, tidy, and ready to be moved into.

The Chavez family didn’t do anything halfway, and today was no exception; it was the day Nicholas would be moving back in after years of being away in Los Angeles to focus on his career. Him moving away in the first place was probably the best decision he could’ve made for himself because it had become totally worth it. He was drowning in role offers, on the cover of almost every magazine, and had managed to take the internet by storm. But the move back was just as important because he wouldn’t be returning alone. No, he would come back with a very important lady in tow — his pregnant girlfriend.

The announcement of his return had sent ripples through the estate. Everyone seemed eager to welcome Nicholas home, but for me, it had been a strange mixture of dread and longing. I hadn’t seen him in person since the night before he left for Los Angeles, and each time he’d find himself visiting the estate for holidays or birthdays, I’d coincidentally be out of the house. I told myself I was over him. Told myself that whatever we had all that time ago was just that — something we had. But when I found out he was coming and knowing he was doing so with someone else, her, and that they were starting a family? That stung in a way I wasn’t ready to confront.

So for now, I focused completely on making sure everything was ready. I stood in the guest suite, smoothing the already perfectly ironed duvet for the third time. The room was fit for royalty, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the manicured gardens and a vase of fresh pink rhododendrons — I’m told are her favorite — on the nightstand.

Nicholas’s mom told me that I didn’t have to get them anything, but I wanted to. I told myself it was for her, but it wasn’t really. It was for me, to prove to myself that I wasn’t hung up on some past that doesn’t mean anything more. She was his girlfriend now, and I am just a housekeeper who worked with her mom at the Chavez estate. Everything was in its place, just as it always was. Just as I had to be.

I was listening to The Pixies — part of my 80s playlist — through my headphones as I fluffed pillows and dusted surfaces, too engrossed in the mechanical routine and the drums of Here Comes Your Man to realize my mom had been trying to get my attention for the past minute or so. That’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whipped around and pulled the headphones off my head, the music blasting through the flimsy thin sponges suddenly sounding too loud in the quiet of the room. It was my mom, laughing to herself at the sight of me bopping my head as I cleaned.

“(Y/N), are you almost done in here?” She asked while trying to stifle a chuckle, rubbing her clammy hands on her pristine apron. She had been in charge of cleaning all of the restrooms along with one of the other housekeepers. “Mrs. Chavez wants everybody outside before Nicholas gets here.”

I nodded, quickly slipping the headphones around my neck. “Yeah, I’m done,” I said, glancing around the room one last time. Everything was perfect. Too perfect.

Mom gave me a knowing look, the kind she always gave when she could tell I was trying too hard. “The room is perfect, sweetie. Now, c’mon,” she waved her hand in excitement, “everybody else is outside.”

I grabbed my caddy of cleaning supplies and led us out of the suite, our shoes squeaking as we stepped out into the tiled hallway and down the grand staircase. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked out of the room. I wasn’t sure if she suspected how I felt about Nicholas or if she just thought I was being meticulous for the sake of appearances. Either way, I was grateful she didn’t say anything else.

I quickly walked over to the supply closet near the base of the staircase and placed my caddy inside as my mom scurried out of the front door and urged me to catch up with her. I scampered behind her, the polyester material of my uniform brushing over my knees with each hurried step.

Outside, the estate grounds were a picture of perfection, as they always were. The staff lined up neatly near the circular driveway, a quiet buzz of excitement rippling through them as they awaited Nicholas’s arrival with confetti cannons in hand. I hung back slightly, finding a spot near the end of the line with my mom and some of the other senior members of staff like the chef, fiddling with the edge of my cleaning apron. I told myself this was just another day, but I knew it wasn’t. It never was with him. Would he talk to me? Ignore me? I couldn’t blame him if he did.

“Oh, I see them!” Mrs. Chavez exclaimed as she pointed to the black Escalade driving up the street.

I watched as the luxury car came into view, pulling up smoothly into the driveway and coming to a stop in front of the fountain. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was.

Nicholas Alexander Chavez.

The driveway erupted into a mix of hoots and booms from the confetti cannons exploding in everybody’s hands, bright pieces of foil paper coating the sky and floating down to the stone ground.

Time hadn’t dulled anything about him. If anything, it had refined him. He was tanner, beefier — his arms and thighs practically begging to be let free from his form-fitting clothes. He wore a casual white button-down with the sleeves rolled up along with a pair of denim jeans, effortlessly handsome in a way that sent an unwelcome flutter through my chest. His dark brown eyes scanned the crowd with a quiet confidence, his jawline sharper than I remembered. His hair is a lot different than it used to be, too, no longer loosely swinging past his jaw but shorter and brushed back by the sunglasses on his head. He looked even better than when I last saw him. Oh no.

And then, she stepped out of the car.

She was gorgeous — glossy brown hair cascading over her shoulders and the pitch black oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes, a radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire estate flashing across her face. She wore a flowy dress, one that emphasized her still-flat stomach but there was the tiniest hint of a bump, the very thing that cemented her place next to Nicholas.

The staff clapped politely as Mrs. Chavez rushed toward the start of the line to greet her son, enveloping him in a tight hug. “Nicholas! Oh, it’s so good to have you home!” she gushed before turning to her. “And you, sweetie, look absolutely stunning.”

She beamed, taking Mrs. Chavez’s hands in hers and giving her an air kiss. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Chavez. It’s so nice to see you again.”

I tried to keep my expression neutral, to blend into the background as I always did, but Nicholas’s gaze swept over the line of staff and landed on me. For a split second, our eyes met and his smile grew softer, and I could’ve sworn time stood still and suddenly, I felt 18 again, sitting at the edge of the pool under the protective blanket of the dark night with Nicholas sitting beside me just inches away, the same soft smile on his face.

It had been one of those nights when the Chavez family was throwing some luxurious party, everyone drinking and mingling over glasses of champagne inside, except for me. My mom had asked me if I wanted to help her out at the party for a bit since one of the housekeepers had left earlier in the day, and I felt like being helpful that day. Eventually, though, the party had gone on later than usual, like always, and I found myself sitting outside on the edge of the pool at 2AM, like always.

The spring air was a little warm and still, the only sound was the occasional chirp of crickets and the gentle ripple of the pool water as I slowly circled my feet underwater. I had been sitting at the edge, part of my brain counting down the minutes until my mom and I could go home and the other part thinking about the week ahead — spring semester finals week of college. The moonlight danced across the surface, and I let myself drift into thoughts I shouldn’t have been entertaining.

And then he appeared, as if he knew I was thinking about him.

“You’re always up late, even when there isn’t a party going on inside.”

Nic’s voice was low and easy, the kind that made my heart skip a beat no matter how much I tried to steel myself against it.

I turned my head and saw him standing near the end of the pool, barefoot and wearing a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips and a graphic tee that swayed against his skinny frame as he strolled over to me. He held a beer in one hand, the bottle catching the faint glow of the pool lights as he moved.

“I’m a night owl, I guess,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.

He smirked, setting the bottle down on the concrete before sitting next to me, close enough that the warmth of his skin radiated toward me. His legs dangled over the edge, and for a moment, we just sat there, staring at the water in comfortable silence.

“So finals week, huh?” he asked, glancing sideways at me.

I nodded, surprised he remembered me mentioning it passing a few days ago. “Yeah. Just one more week and my first year of college will be behind me. I should probably be asleep, but—” I glanced back at the house, “—the party’s still going on. That and…”

“And your mind won’t shut up,” he finished for me, his smirk softening into something more genuine, that soft smile that could trigger something in me.

I stifled a chuckle, “Yeah.”

He let out a soft laugh, leaning back on his hands and tilting his face toward the stars. “I remember those nights. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“You’re only two years older,” I quietly laughed.

He turned to look at me, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Doesn’t mean I don’t remember the stress. Want me to tell you a secret?”

I raised an eyebrow, curious despite myself. “What?”

“I used to sneak out here to clear my head, just like you,” he took a small swig of his beer.

“Yeah, I remember seeing you out here sometimes,” I mumbled.

“There’s something about the quiet, you know?” He set the bottle back down with a quiet clink. “It makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world for a little while.”

I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking to his face. He looked so different under the moonlight — softer, more open. It made it hard to keep my thoughts in check. “Yeah, it does,” I murmured.

“I’ll tell you another secret,” he said as he grabbed his beer again, bringing it up to his lips but too lost in thought to take another sip. “Nobody knows yet, but…” he swallowed dryly, “I’m gonna drop out.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implication. I blinked, turning to face him fully, unsure if I’d heard him right. “You’re dropping out? Of Rutgers?”

He smirked and nodded, “Well, not dropping out. I already did,” he set the bottle back down on the concrete in the little space between our legs. “Already did the paperwork. I’m not going back in the fall.”

The shock hit me like a slap to the face. Nic was supposed to be the golden boy — the one who had everything figured out. College was just a stepping stone for him to achieve whatever greatness everyone assumed he was destined for. “Why?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and self-assured. “Because it’s not for me,” he said, leaning back on his hands again. His face was calm, like he’d made peace with it a long time ago. “And because I love acting way too much to be wasting my time sitting in lectures and writing papers. I want more than that. I need more.”

I stared at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but there wasn’t any. “So what’s your plan?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he moved the beer bottle separating us and shifted closer, his knee brushing against mine as he reached down and swirled his fingers in the water. “I’m moving to LA. I already got in contact with an agent, already sent in a few self-tape auditions.” He was quiet for a beat, Nicholas tilted his head, his gaze meeting mine. “If I don’t do it now, I’ll regret it forever,” he said, and there it was — that spark in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t just talking. He meant it.

I couldn’t help but admire him in that moment — the way he seemed so sure of himself, so ready to take on the world without any fear. But I also couldn’t ignore the tiny ache in my chest, the thought of him leaving hitting me harder than I expected.

“When are you leaving?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I looked back toward the water.

“End of the summer,” he said. “A couple more months.”

The words hung heavy between us, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The faint ripple of the water and the chirping crickets filled the silence, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the weight of what he’d just told me.

He broke the silence then. “You’re going to crush those finals, you know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

The unexpected compliment caught me off guard, and I turned to him, my heart thudding in my chest. “Thanks,” I said softly, unable to look away from him.

His gaze lingered on mine, and for a moment, I thought he might say something else. But instead, he leaned in, closing the space between us until his lips brushed against mine. It was soft at first, tentative, like he was giving me a chance to pull away. But when I didn’t — when I kissed him back — something shifted.

The kiss deepened, and I felt his hand move to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. My heart raced, every nerve in my body buzzing as his lips pressed harder against mine, as though he needed this just as much as I did. My fingers found their way into his stringy hair, and every logical thought evaporated.

It was reckless, dangerous, and so far beyond what should’ve been happening — after all, his mom was my mom’s boss and, occasionally, my own — but I didn’t care. Not in that moment.

His other hand slipped around my waist, tugging me against him as the cool night air was replaced by the heat radiating from his body. My fingers clutched at his t-shirt, my breaths coming faster as his tongue brushed against mine. It was everything I shouldn’t have wanted — everything I had told myself over and over I could never have — but it was also everything I couldn’t resist.

“Fuck,” he muttered against my lips, his voice rough and low, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes searching mine. “You sure?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and I realized he was giving me a choice, an out.

I didn’t need to think. “Yes,” I breathed, my voice shaking but certain.

That was all he needed to hear.

Before I could blink, he had pulled me up from the edge of the pool, his hands strong and steady as he guided me toward the pool house. The door clicked shut behind us, the sound echoing in the quiet, and suddenly we were alone, the world outside fading into nothingness.

The intensity of his gaze pinned me in place as he stepped closer, his hands sliding down to my hips and pulling me against him. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long,” he admitted, his voice husky as his lips brushed against my jaw, trailing down to the sensitive skin of my neck.

I gasped, my hands tangling in his hair as he pressed me against the cool wall. “Me too,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

His hands roamed over my body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake as he guided me to the small couch. We fell into it together, our bodies tangling in a way that felt both desperate and natural. The air was thick with heat and tension, each movement electric. His lips were everywhere — on my neck, my collarbone, trailing lower and lower with a hunger that left me breathless.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Nic growled against my skin, his hands exploring me like he had been waiting forever to touch me like this.

I moaned softly, my hands clutching at his t-shirt, desperate to pull him closer. “You talk too much,” I whispered back, my words teasing but breathless.

He laughed low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my skin as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His body was lean but strong, his skin warm under my fingertips as I ran my hands over his chest, his stomach.

His lips crashed back against mine, more forceful this time, as his hands moved to the hem of my shirt. He tugged it over my head in one quick motion, his eyes darkening as they raked over me.

“Fuck,” he muttered again, his hands sliding around to my back to pull me closer. “I can’t believe I waited this long.”

I couldn’t respond, couldn’t even think, as he pressed me back against the cushions of the couch. His body was over mine, his weight grounding me in a way that felt both overwhelming and intoxicating. His kisses grew more urgent, his touch more deliberate, as we moved together, the space between us disappearing entirely.

Our bodies collided like a force of nature — hot, desperate, and completely unrestrained. The room was quiet save for the sound of our ragged breathing, our wet kisses, and the occasional thud of clothes being tossed to the floor. His mouth was on mine again, and I felt like I couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t touch enough of him, couldn’t get enough of him.

Nic groaned, his voice low and guttural as his lips trailed down my neck and over my chest. His hands gripped my hips tightly, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I laughed breathlessly, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling his face back to mine. “Good,” I whispered against his lips before kissing him hard.

His laugh turned into a growl as his hands moved lower, sliding over the curve of my thighs and pressing me firmly into the couch. I gasped, my back arching as his touch lit a fire under my skin. He was everywhere, consuming me, and I didn’t want him to stop.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear as he slid his hands back up my thighs. “So many fucking times.”

I couldn’t respond — not with words, at least. Instead, I pulled him closer, my nails scraping lightly down his back as his lips moved lower. My breathing hitched as he kissed a path down my stomach, his hands pushing my legs further apart.

“Shit,” I gasped, my head falling back against the cushions as he kissed along my inner thigh. The combination of his lips, his hands, and the way he was looking at me was almost too much.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against my skin as he pressed a kiss just above my waistband before coming back up to hover over me. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity and desire. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

I swallowed hard, my hands finding their way to his face as I pulled him down for another kiss. “You don’t have to,” I whispered against his lips. “Just…don’t stop.”

And he didn’t.

He crawled back down, hooking his fingers through the belt loops of my shorts and pulling them down, not bothering to fiddle with the button or zipper. His impatience was electric, the shorts, along with my underwear, sliding off my legs in one swift motion before being tossed somewhere behind him. The weight of his gaze dragged over me, dark and burning with something primal.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he muttered, almost to himself, his hands running up the bare skin of my thighs, pausing just enough to make me shiver.

“Then stop wasting time,” I shot back, breathless, barely recognizing my own voice.

His lips quirked up in a smirk as he leaned down again, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin of my hip. “Bossy,” he teased, but his hands told a different story, sliding higher and higher, until—

“Fuck,” I gasped, my head tipping back as his fingers finally found the spot that had been aching for him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent as he worked me in slow, deliberate circles. My hips bucked instinctively, trying to draw him closer, but he held me steady, his strength only adding to the overwhelming sensation.

“Nic,” I choked out, his name slipping from my lips before I could stop it.

His movements faltered for a second, his gaze snapping up to meet mine. Something flickered in his eyes — possessiveness, maybe, or the thrill of hearing his name like that from me. He leaned down, his breath hot against my skin.

“Say it again,” he commanded, his voice rough and dripping with authority.

“Fuck, Nic,” I whimpered, my hands fisting into the couch cushions as his fingers pressed deeper, his movements quickening.

“Good girl,” he rasped, the praise sending another wave of heat rushing through me. He shifted lower, his lips trailing kisses along my thighs as his fingers continued their relentless pace.

My breaths came quicker, my entire body trembling under his touch. He was merciless, pulling me apart inch by inch, dragging me closer to the edge until—

“Oh, my God,” I cried out, my vision going white as pleasure hit me like a tidal wave. My back arched, my hands scrabbling for purchase as I completely unraveled beneath him.

He didn’t stop, his mouth now replacing his hand as he coaxed every last tremor from me, his low groans vibrating against my skin. It was overwhelming, his name tumbling from my lips like a prayer as I sank back into the cushions, utterly spent.

Before I could catch my breath, he was on me again, his lips crashing against mine, hot and messy and desperate. I could taste myself on him, and instead of embarrassment, it only fueled the fire that hadn’t quite burned out.

“You’re gonna kill me,” I panted against his mouth, my fingers dragging over the lines of his chest, lower, to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Fair fucking trade,” he growled, his teeth grazing my jaw as I tugged his pants down, freeing him.

The weight of him against my palm had me trembling all over again, but this time I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped my hand around him, relishing the hiss that escaped his lips.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his forehead falling to mine as his hips jerked into my touch. 

It wasn’t long before he pulled my hand away, pinning it above my head as he lined himself up with me, his free hand gripping my hip to keep me steady. His gaze locked on mine, his brows furrowed like he was barely holding himself together.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, though his body betrayed the tension coiled in him, begging for release.

I shook my head, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. “Don’t you dare.”

With that, he pushed into me, slow and deliberate, a curse falling from his lips as he filled me completely. The stretch was almost too much, but the way he held me, his forehead pressed to mine, made it impossible to feel anything but him.

“Fuck, you feel…” he trailed off, his words lost in a groan as he pulled back and thrust forward again, this time harder, deeper.

I couldn’t respond, couldn’t form a single coherent thought as he set a rhythm, each movement driving me closer to the edge all over again.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice rough, and when my eyes met his, the intensity there stole what little breath I had left. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his pace quickening as his hand moved between us, his fingers finding that spot again, pushing me higher and higher.

“Nic, I—” I gasped, unable to finish the sentence as my body tightened around him, pleasure ripping through me with a force that left me trembling, crying out his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he fell over the edge, his groan low and guttural as he spilled into me, his body collapsing against mine.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, our ragged breaths filling the space between us. His weight was heavy but grounding, his head buried in the crook of my neck as his hands smoothed over my sides, soothing the aftershocks still rippling through me.

When he finally lifted his head to look at me, his lips quirked into a lazy, satisfied grin while his stringy hair flopped over his forehead and brushed my face.

We didn’t talk about it afterward. We never did. But that night became the first of many stolen moments, each one pulling me further into a reality I knew I could never have, not when I knew he’d be leaving in a few months to chase his dreams.

Back in the present, I forced myself to blink, the memory dissipating like smoke as I stood near the edge of the driveway, Nicholas’s smile fading from my mind. The sound of polite applause and welcomes brought me crashing back to reality.

I found him still looking at me, but he was interrupted by his mom pulling him in for another tight hug, which I was grateful happened. I wasn’t ready to talk to him, not right now. Suddenly feeling the bile in my stomach gurgle and gnaw at my insides, I leaned into my mom’s ear. “I think I forgot to put away one of the vacuums in the room,” I whispered.

She was too caught up in the moment, excitedly watching the family reunite, and only gave me a quick nod.

I inconspicuously retreated from the line of staff, my heart pounding harder with each step. The memory had shaken me more than I wanted to admit, the phantom sensation of his hands on my body lingering far too vividly in my mind, somehow feeling just as fresh even after all these years.

I darted into the house, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat outside. I leaned against the wall of the grand foyer, squeezing my eyes shut and taking a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm the mess of emotions swirling in my chest.

What the hell was I doing?

I had spent years convincing myself that what happened between us didn’t matter anymore — that it had been a fleeting thing, a summer romance born of youth and circumstance. But seeing him again had ripped open every wound I thought I’d buried.

I couldn’t stay out here and risk running into him again, not with her there. Not with that tiny bump on her stomach and the reality of what his life had become staring me in the face.

I turned on my heel and made for the stairs, pretending to head for the vacuum I hadn’t forgotten. I just needed a few minutes to pull myself together before someone noticed. I’d barely made it halfway up when everybody started making their way back inside. I looked over the railing as I continued my ascent, and Nicholas’s eyes flicked back up to me again before smiling over to his girlfriend as his mom showed her around the house, guiding the both of them toward the kitchen.

I ducked into the guest suite before anyone could notice me, closing the door softly behind me. My chest felt tight, my breaths too shallow, like I couldn’t get enough air. The memories of that summer wouldn’t leave me alone, clinging to the edges of my mind and taunting me with what once was.

I paced the length of the room, trying to shake it off. It had been years. Years since that night. Years since the others that followed. Years since I’d told myself it was over, that it had to be over. He made that very clear back then. It didn’t matter how he looked at me back then. It didn’t matter how he looked at me now. Except it did — to me, at least.

His smile when he spotted me outside, that flicker of something familiar in his dark brown eyes — it felt like a goddamn punch to the gut. And then there was her. That perfect, glowing woman who had everything I couldn’t even dream of. A future. A family. Him.

I let out a sharp breath, running a hand through my hair. Get it together, I told myself. I had a job to do, nothing more and nothing less.

Just then, the door opened, a few of the staff members walking in with luggage in tow and setting the bags near the foot of the bed. I politely smiled at them, “Are there any more bags you guys need help with?”

One of the housekeepers, Maria, glanced at me and shook her head, her arms straining slightly under the weight of a Louis Vuitton suitcase. “No, I think this is the last of it,” she said. Then, leaning closer, she added in a hushed tone, “I can’t believe she’s already moving in. Not wasting any time, huh?”

I forced a smile, my stomach twisting at her words. “Guess not,” I murmured.

I brushed past her and made my way out of the guest suite and rushed to the stairs. Just then Mrs. Chavez, Nicholas, and his girlfriend were all making their way up the stairs. The ladies were too engrossed in their conversation to notice me going down but when I brushed past them, Mrs. Chavez lit up.

“Oh, (Y/N)! There you are,” she smiled.

I stopped in my tracks and turned around to look up at them, politely smiling. “Hi, Mrs. Chavez. I was just making sure everything was ready in the guest suite.”

“(Y/N), this is Nicholas’s girlfrie— excuse me, fiancée, Valerie,” Mrs. Chavez smiled. “Valerie, this is (Y/N). She’s (Y/M/N)’s daughter and has also been with us for years.”

Valerie pulled back her black sunglasses then and flashed me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, such a contrast to the way I had seen her outside. “Hi,” she said in a perky tone as she looked down at me.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you, Valerie,” I smiled sheepishly, brushing the hem of my uniform, trying to avoid glancing at Nicholas. “I know Mrs. Chavez said I didn’t need to get you anything, but I left a bouquet of rhododendrons on your nightstand as a welcome gift,” I smiled.

“Oh!” She said, her jaw falling into an open smile, almost as if she was surprised I had considered her.

“She said they were your favorite,” I fiddled with my fingers without looking.

Nicholas turned his head to look up at his mom then, “That’s why you asked the other day,” a soft smile on his lips.

Mrs. Chavez nodded with a proud smile. “Of course. We wanted to make sure everything was perfect for your homecoming. And you know how (Y/N) has always been so thoughtful.”

Valerie glanced at the three of us, her smile faltering just slightly before she replaced it with another bright grin. “That’s so sweet of you, (Y/N). Thank you,” she said, but there was a hint of something sharp in her tone, subtle but unmistakable.

I nodded politely, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “It was nothing,” I said quickly. “I’ll let you all settle in. Mrs. Chavez, I’ll be in the kitchen helping prepare for brunch.”

As I turned to head back downstairs, Nicholas’s voice stopped me. “(Y/N).”

I paused, my heart stuttering in my chest as I turned back around to face him. “Yes?”

His smile was softer now, more genuine, and it felt like it was just for me. That was dangerous. “Thank you.”

The air between us crackled with an unspoken tension, but it only lasted a second before Valerie looped her arm through his, leaning into his side with a perfectly practiced smile.

“Let’s go look at our room, baby,” she chimed, her tone sugary sweet but just shy of dismissive.

Nicholas glanced at her, his smile faltering slightly, but he nodded and let her guide him up the stairs. “Yeah, let’s go,” he said, though his gaze lingered on me for just a moment longer before he turned away.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to move down the stairs. The sharp edge of Valerie’s tone had sliced right through me, but I couldn’t blame her. She had every reason to feel territorial. Still, it stung. Not because she had him now — well, not entirely — but because I hated the way she looked at me, like I didn’t belong, like I was nothing more than the girl who cleaned the rooms and set the table.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I headed for the kitchen, hoping to lose myself in the chaos of brunch preparations. The sound of pots clattering and Paolo, the family chef, barking orders was almost comforting in its familiarity. I grabbed an apron from the rack and slipped it over my head, eager for the distraction.

I clapped my hands once. “What can I help with, Pao?”

He whipped around, a big smile peeking out from under his bushy, graying mustache, “Why don’t you start setting up the tables outside? People should be arriving soon, and we cannot have the tables looking bare,” he laughed.

I grabbed the stack of white linens and the box of polished silverware and plates from the counter, nodding at Paolo. “On it,” I said, thankful for the task to keep my hands busy and my mind distracted. Setting the tables meant I could stay busy and avoid the suffocating tension in the house. With that, I headed out to the garden.

The Chavez family brunches were always grand affairs, with guests flitting around the estate like peacocks, each one more polished than the last.

Outside, the estate was already buzzing with activity. Staff darted around carrying trays of mimosas and finger foods while Mrs. Chavez floated between them, directing traffic like the queen she was. I made my way to the tables arranged under the sprawling canopy of the garden, the sunlight filtering through the trees and dappling the perfectly manicured grass. The view should’ve been calming, but the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.

I began laying out the linens, smoothing them over the round tables one by one and making my way to the cart of centerpieces waiting to be arranged on the tables, carrying the sparkling crystal vases of wildflowers and carefully placing them on each table. I then arranged the cutlery with practiced precision, working methodically — placing forks, knives, and spoons on the correct sides and at the perfect angle and folding the linen napkins into perfect fans. The repetitive task helped steady my hands, though my mind still raced, replaying the exchange at the staircase.

Every now and then, I glanced up to make sure everything looked perfect — the kind of perfection the Chavez family always demanded. But the peace I’d found in the quiet of the garden was short-lived. A voice — sharp, clear, and just a little too close — cut through the gentle hum of the brunch preparations.

“So, how long have you worked here?”

I looked up to find her standing on the opposite side of the table, her arms crossed loosely, her sunglasses now perched on top of her glossy hair. Valerie looked every bit the picture of effortless elegance, but there was something about the way she leaned into her stance that felt…pointed.

“Uh…” I blinked, caught off guard. “Officially, almost six years now,” I replied softly, continuing to place plates and silverware. “I actually left for a bit after getting my bachelor’s to focus on working in my field, but I decided I wanted to get a master’s, so I came back last year so I can save up.” I’m not sure why I decided to tell half my life story to her. Maybe I thought it would endear me to her, hopefully.

She nodded, a polite smile stretching across her lips as she stepped closer. “Wow, six years. That’s a long time. You must really love it here.”

“It’s a good job,” I replied, carefully folding the last napkin into a crisp fan. “And my mom’s worked for the family for even longer, so… I kind of grew up here.”

Her expression didn’t shift much, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes — a spark of curiosity, maybe, or judgment. “That’s sweet,” she said, her tone teetering on the edge of insincerity. “It must’ve been interesting growing up so close to Nicholas.”

My heart skipped. “He’s…always been nice,” I said carefully, my fingers tightening around the napkin in my hand.

Her smile widened, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure he was. Nic’s always had a big heart, hasn’t he?” She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping just enough to make the question feel more pointed. “He mentioned you earlier, you know. Said you were thoughtful. It’s nice that you went out of your way with the flowers.”

My chest tightened. I set the napkin down, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “It wasn’t a big deal. Just something I thought you might like.”

She tilted her head, studying me for a moment before her smile softened into something almost sympathetic. “Well, I appreciate it. It’s just…interesting, isn’t it? How people can sometimes misinterpret kindness.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implication.

“What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my voice as steady as I could.

She shrugged, the movement graceful but dismissive. “Oh, nothing. I just think it’s good to keep things professional, don’t you? Lines can get blurry sometimes, especially when people have known each other for so long.”

The knot in my stomach tightened into something sharper, anger sparking under the surface of my calm. “I’ve always been professional,” I said evenly, my hands clenching at my sides. “I take my job seriously.”

Her smile faltered for a split second before she recovered, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Good,” she said, her tone light but laced with steel. “Because I don’t think Nic needs any distractions, especially right now with the baby and the wedding planning and all. And like you said, you’re saving up for graduate school, so you need this job, right?”

The words hit me like a slap, sharp and intentional. I swallowed hard, my fists tightening at my sides as I stared at her, trying to keep my composure. Her smile stayed in place, but there was nothing kind about it now. It was a challenge, a warning wrapped in a veneer of politeness.

“I do,” I said evenly, my voice steady despite the fire building in my chest.

Her eyes flicked over me, calculating, before she took a small step back. “Good. I’d hate for things to get…complicated.”

My fingers dug into the fabric of the napkin I was folding, crumpling its perfect creases. She was trying to assert her dominance, staking her claim over him in the most passive-aggressive way possible, and I couldn’t help but resent how effective it was. She didn’t have to scream or yell; her message was clear as day — I didn’t belong, here or with him. Though, I couldn’t exactly be mad at her for the latter.

She lingered for a moment longer, her gaze sweeping over the table as if she were inspecting my work. Then she turned and walked away, her heels clicking softly against the stone path as she made her way back toward the house.

I exhaled sharply, my shoulders sagging as the tension drained from my body. My hands trembled slightly, but I forced myself to keep working, adjusting the placement of a centerpiece that didn’t need adjusting.

I finished setting up the tables just as guests started to arrive, spilling into the picturesque backyard. I grabbed the stack of leftover plates and silverware and headed back inside to the kitchen, setting the things down with a particular force on the island.

Paolo’s eyes flicked up to me. “Whoa, whoa, what did the plates ever do to you?” He teased, his thick Italian accent curling around his words as he chopped a pile of fresh basil. His eyes, however, sharpened with concern as he studied me. “You look like you’re ready to murder someone.”

I forced a smile, the edges of it brittle. “I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed with all the…guests,” I said, my voice strained.

He snorted, setting his knife down and leaning against the counter. “Guests, huh? Or just one in particular?”

I shot him a look, but Paolo wasn’t one to back down, especially when it came to teasing me. “Don’t look at me like that. I saw her come in here earlier. The new princess. She’s…what’s the word? A delight.”

“Don’t,” I said quickly, my voice sharper than I intended. “I don’t need you adding to it.”

Paolo raised his hands in mock surrender, his bushy mustache twitching with a smirk, but his curiosity lingered. He gave a small shrug before returning to his chopping. “Hey, I’m just saying. But if you need to stab into some dough, I’ll be right here.”

I huffed a small laugh despite myself, shaking my head as I grabbed a fresh tray of appetizers to take outside. “Thanks, Pao. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The backyard was already buzzing with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses. I moved through the crowd like a ghost, my tray balanced carefully in my hands as I offered bruschetta to the guests, avoiding eye contact whenever possible.

As I made my way through the backyard, weaving between clusters of perfectly dressed guests, I kept my head down and my movements mechanical. The tension from Valerie’s thinly veiled warning still coiled tight in my chest, like a spring waiting to snap. I smiled politely at the occasional “thank you” or “these are delicious,” but my focus was on getting through this without making a scene.

I weaved through the sea of polished smiles and clinking glasses, the tray of bruschetta growing lighter with every guest who plucked one off without a second glance at me. The hum of conversation was a soothing distraction, but my nerves buzzed beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. I’d done this a hundred times before, but today felt different — everything felt different with her here.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” an older woman murmured as she took a piece from the tray, her gold bracelets jingling as she moved. I nodded politely, offering a small smile before slipping away to the next cluster of guests.

And then I saw him.

Nicholas stood near the garden trellis, a glass of champagne in hand, talking to an older couple I vaguely recognized as longtime family friends. His easy smile was on full display, charming and genuine, and for a moment, I let myself linger, watching the way he carried himself. The way his head tilted slightly when he listened, the way his hands moved when he spoke — it was all so achingly familiar.

But just as quickly as the warmth of recognition filled me, it was snuffed out when Valerie appeared at his side. She slid her arm through his with practiced grace, her laugh cutting through the air as she joined the conversation. Nicholas glanced at her, his smile softening in a way that felt…off.

I turned away quickly, the sting sharper than I expected, and nearly collided with Paolo as he emerged from the house carrying a tray of fresh cannoli.

“Careful, ragazza,” he said with a laugh, steadying me with one hand. “You’ll knock me over before I even get these out to the guests.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, stepping back to let him pass. I caught the concern in his eyes as he looked at me, but thankfully, he didn’t say anything.

I took a steadying breath and made my way to the buffet table to drop off the now-empty tray. I needed a moment to collect myself before diving back into the crowd. But as I turned, I froze.

Nicholas was walking toward me.

My heart thudded painfully in my chest as he crossed the garden, his dark brown eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. He wasn’t smiling now, his expression unreadable but charged with something that sent a shiver down my spine.

I glanced around, worried if Valerie might’ve been watching, but I didn’t spot her anywhere. And just when I thought Nicholas might reach me, somebody approached him and started making conversation. I took that as my opportunity to grab a new tray of appetizers Paolo had put out and make my escape.

I moved quickly, balancing the fresh tray of canapés in my hands, keeping my head down as I skirted the edge of the garden. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I focused on the task in front of me: deliver the food, avoid Nicholas, and keep things professional — exactly the way Valerie had made painfully clear I needed to.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

I rounded a corner near the far end of the garden, heading toward a quieter cluster of guests when a firm hand caught my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. My breath hitched, and I turned sharply to find Nicholas standing there, his fingers still loosely wrapped around my arm. His dark eyes searched mine, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low but urgent.

I hesitated, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” I murmured, trying to keep my tone even.

His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t fall away either. “Please,” he said, his gaze holding mine. “Just for a minute.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. Against every ounce of better judgment, I nodded. “Fine. One minute.”

He let go of my arm, his hand brushing against mine briefly as he led me toward a more secluded corner of the garden, away from the prying eyes of guests and, more importantly, Valerie.

When we stopped, he turned to face me fully, his expression tight. He took the tray of canapés from my hands and set it down on a nearby ledge before running a hand through his hair, his fingers briefly tangling in the strands before resting on the back of his neck. He looked as if he were trying to find the right words, but the silence stretched between us, thick and charged.

“Nicholas,” I said softly, trying to break whatever tension was building. “You shouldn’t—”

“I don’t care what I should or shouldn’t do right now,” he interrupted, his voice low but sharp. “I need to ask you something.”

I blinked, taken aback by his sudden intensity. “What?”

His eyes searched mine, a mix of frustration and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Did she say something to you?” he asked, his tone urgent. “Earlier, when you were setting the tables — did she?”

The question hit me like a jolt. Of course, he’d noticed. Nicholas was too observant for his own good. I opened my mouth to deny it, to brush it off as nothing, but the look in his eyes stopped me. He already knew the answer.

“Why does it matter?” I hedged, looking down at the tray still balanced in my hands. “She’s your fiancée, and I’m just—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, cutting me off again. His voice softened, but the edge remained. “Don’t finish that sentence,” he huffed deeply.

My chest tightened, and I forced myself to look at him. “She just told me to keep it professional,” I said, my voice quieter now.

Nicholas let out a frustrated breath, his jaw tightening. “She had no right to say anything to you.”

“She’s your fiancée,” I said, forcing the words out even though they felt like knives on my tongue. “She has every right to say whatever she wants. And she’s not wrong, Nicholas. You’re here with me instead of out there with your pregnant fiancée.”

He flinched, as if my words had struck him, but he didn’t look away. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach for me but was holding himself back. His gaze burned into mine, his dark eyes filled with a storm of emotions I couldn’t unravel. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair again. “Fuck. This is so much more complicated than I thought it would be.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as I watched him struggle with whatever was going on in his head. I reached for the tray of canapés I had set down.

“Where are you going?” He asked quietly, hesitantly stepping toward me.

“I gave you a minute,” I spoke softly. “I have to get back to work.”

Nicholas reached out, his hand brushing my arm lightly as if to stop me. “Wait,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Just… I’m sorry.”

I froze, my fingers tightening around the tray as I turned back to face him. For a moment, I thought he might apologize for what happened between us, since he never did, but that was just me being hopeful. “Sorry for what?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even, though my chest felt like it might collapse under the weight of the tension between us.

“For her,” he said bluntly, his jaw tightening. “For the way she spoke to you. She doesn’t know you — she doesn’t know anything about you — and she had no right to talk to you like that.”

I let out a sharp laugh, the sound more bitter than I intended. “You don’t have to apologize for her, Nicholas. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he shot back, his voice low and firm. “And I don’t want you thinking for a second that I agree with anything she said.” He took a step closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “You don’t deserve that.”

My breath caught, and for a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The sincerity in his voice, the way his gaze held mine — it was too much. I glanced away, breaking the spell, and shifted the tray in my hands.

I looked down at the tray in my hands. “Get back to the party, Nic,” I said softly, using the nickname I hadn’t dared say in years.

Nicholas froze at the sound of his nickname on my lips, his eyes softening even as his jaw clenched. He stepped closer, closing the space between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Don’t call me that unless you mean it,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to keep himself from saying more.

My heart raced, my grip tightening on the tray as I looked up at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

He let out a frustrated huff, his hand reaching out to brush against my arm. “You do,” he murmured, his tone softening. “You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N).”

“Go back to the party, Nicholas,” I whispered again, my voice steadier this time. “Your fiancée’s probably wondering where you are.”

The words were like acid on my tongue, but they had the desired effect. His expression shifted, the tension in his shoulders returning as he nodded stiffly.

“Right,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair before turning away. He didn’t look back as he disappeared into the crowd of guests, his figure blending into the polished chaos of the brunch.

My hands trembled as I held the tray, forcing myself to breathe, to move, to pretend like my entire world hadn’t just shifted. I exhaled sharply, my chest burning as I turned and headed back toward the kitchen. My hands trembled slightly, the tray of canapés feeling heavier than it should.

Paolo glanced up as I set the tray down on the counter, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in my flushed face and trembling hands.

“Let me guess,” he said dryly, setting down the whisk he’d been using to whip cream. “The prince found you.”

I shot him a look, but there was no heat behind it. “Not now, Paolo.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender but didn’t push further, thankfully. Instead, he handed me a glass of water, his brow furrowed with genuine concern.

I took the glass and downed it in one go, the cool water doing little to calm the storm raging inside me. I set the glass down and leaned against the counter, closing my eyes as I tried to steady my breathing.

This was a mistake. All of it. Letting him talk to me, letting him get under my skin again — it was dangerous, and I knew better. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore the way his words lingered, the way his gaze burned into me, the way he’d said my name like it still meant something to him. The way he’d apologized, not for himself, but for her.

Just then, Mrs. Chavez’s voice rang loudly through a speaker outside.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please!” Mrs. Chavez’s polished voice rang through the garden, cutting through the hum of chatter. “It’s time for a toast to officially welcome my son Nicholas and his beautiful fiancée, Valerie, back home!”

A polite round of applause followed, and my stomach churned. Paolo shot me a knowing glance, but I shook my head, silently begging him not to say anything. I pushed off the counter, needing to keep moving, to focus on anything other than the fact that I was about to witness yet another public display of their perfect union.

“Here, take these,” Paolo said, handing me another tray of hors d’oeuvres. “But if you need to take a break, I can cover for you.”

I forced a smile, taking the tray from his hands. He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, turning back to his station as I made my way outside.

The garden was packed now, with guests clustered around. Mrs. Chavez stood near the head of the gathering, a crystal glass of champagne in hand and a radiant smile on her face. Nicholas and Valerie stood beside her, their hands intertwined, the perfect picture of a couple madly in love.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Mrs. Chavez continued, her voice warm and commanding. “It means so much to have you all here to celebrate Nicholas’s homecoming. And, of course, we’re thrilled to welcome Valerie into the family.”

Another round of applause erupted, and I clenched the tray in my hands, willing myself to stay calm.

“Nicholas, we are so proud of everything you’ve accomplished,” Mrs. Chavez went on, her eyes shining as she looked at her son. “And we couldn’t be more excited for this next chapter of your life.”

My chest tightened as I watched Nicholas glance down at Valerie, his smile faltering for just a moment before he quickly recovered while Valerie beamed up at him like the doting fiancée she was supposed to be.

Mrs. Chavez raised her glass higher. “To Nicholas and Valerie, and to the beautiful journey ahead of them!”

“To Nicholas and Valerie!” the crowd echoed, raising their glasses in unison.

I stayed near the back of the gathering, blending into the sea of staff and guests as best I could, offering hors d'oeuvres to the guests who weren’t already sipping champagne. My eyes flicked to Nicholas, unwilling but unable to stop myself from watching him. His gaze swept over the crowd, searching for something — or someone.

And then his eyes locked onto mine.

The air felt like it had been sucked out of the garden. Nicholas’s gaze bore into mine, unwavering and intense, as if he could see straight through me. My heart thudded against my ribcage, and for a moment, I forgot where I was, the tray of hors d’oeuvres suddenly feeling like an anchor in my hands.

His fiancée’s voice cut through the moment. “Nic,” she said sweetly, tugging lightly on his arm. “Everyone’s waiting to hear from you.”

He blinked, breaking the connection between us, and turned his attention back to her. The crowd quieted as Nicholas stepped forward, his hand still loosely holding hers. His usual confident demeanor faltered slightly, his jaw tightening as he accepted the microphone from his mother.

“Thank you, everyone,” he began, his voice steady but with an edge I recognized — frustration, maybe even exhaustion. “It’s great to be back home, surrounded by family and friends. And, of course, with Valerie by my side as we—” His words hesitated, the pause so slight I doubted anyone else noticed. “—start this new chapter.”

The crowd clapped politely, but my focus wasn’t on them. It was on him, the way his free hand tightened into a fist at his side, the way his eyes darted back to mine for a fraction of a second before quickly shifting away.

I needed to get out of there. My fingers gripped the edge of the tray as I stepped backward, retreating toward the house. My breath came in shallow bursts, my chest tight with a mix of emotions I couldn’t even begin to sort through.

As I returned to the kitchen, my mom and Paolo were conversing, something about how she loved the food. I never told her what happened between Nicholas and I all those years ago, so when I saw her, I made sure to keep my cool in front of her.

My mom glanced up as I entered, her face lighting up with a smile. “Oh, there you are! Isn’t it such a lovely event? Mrs. Chavez really outdid herself this time.”

I forced a smile, nodding as I set the tray down on the counter. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” I said, keeping my tone light.

Paolo raised an eyebrow, glancing between me and my mom. He grabbed another tray of appetizers and headed for the door, muttering something about keeping the guests happy.

My mom moved closer, smoothing her apron as she studied me. “You look pale, sweetheart. Have you eaten anything today?”

I shook my head quickly, waving off her concern. “I’m fine, Mom. Just a little warm out there, that’s all.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, the way they always did when she didn’t quite believe me, but she let it go. “Well, don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You know how these events can be.”

I nodded, mumbling a quick “I won’t” before busying myself with tidying the counter. She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping back out to join the staff overseeing the buffet.

As soon as she was gone, I leaned against the counter, letting out a shaky breath. My hands still trembled slightly, and my chest felt tight, but I couldn’t afford to lose my composure. Not here, not now.

I reached for a glass of water, trying to calm myself, but the kitchen door swung open again before I could take a sip.

Paolo was back, but he wasn’t alone.

Nicholas stepped into the kitchen behind him, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. Paolo glanced back at him, then at me, and let out a low whistle. “You know, I think I’m just gonna…find something to do outside,” he said, quickly slipping out the door and leaving us alone.

Nicholas’s gaze found mine immediately, his dark eyes locked onto me with an intensity that made my breath catch. He closed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the now-empty kitchen.

“What are you doing in here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended as I set the glass down with a little too much force.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, his voice low but firm.

I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest as I took a step back. “We already talked, Nicholas. And I told you—”

“That wasn’t a conversation,” he interrupted, his tone hardening. “That was you running away.”

I froze, the words hitting a little too close to home. “I wasn’t running away,” I said defensively.

His gaze softened slightly, but the frustration still lingered. “Then stop pushing me away,” he said, taking a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me left and right.”

“I haven’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was quiet, but it cut through the space between us like a knife. “And it’s not just today. You’ve been avoiding me for years, (Y/N). Every time I come back here, you disappear. Every. Fucking. Time.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. What could I say? That he was right? That seeing him after everything was too much? That I didn’t trust myself to be near him?

He spoke again. “I know things are…complicated right now, but—”

“Complicated?” I snapped, my voice rising despite myself. “You’re engaged, Nicholas. She’s pregnant. That’s not complicated — that’s final.”

He flinched at the words. “It’s not as simple as you think.”

Before I could open my mouth to retort, Maria stepped into the kitchen. Nicholas and I stepped away from each other, avoiding her gaze as she awkwardly navigated through the kitchen looking for something before stepping back out.

As soon as the door clicked behind her, I opened my mouth. “Please, Nicholas,” I said, my voice firmer this time as I looked up at him. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his dark eyes searching mine as if he could find a way to make me stay. But then he nodded, stepping back with a defeated look that broke something inside me.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly before turning and walking out the door, leaving me alone in the quiet kitchen.

I stood there for a long moment, the weight of everything crashing down on me. I fought back the tears, clutching my tummy and breathing through it.

Paolo came back into the kitchen with some empty trays in hand. I watched him pass by, the door clicking shut behind him, and let out a shaky breath. Paolo glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“You sure you don’t want to stab some dough?” he asked lightly, his tone laced with concern.

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “No. But thanks for the offer.”

My fingers gripped the counter, willing myself to be calm. But how could I? When I would be working under the same roof as Nicholas and his pregnant fiancée? It was going to be a fucking disaster.

The next few days passed in a blur of routine and tension so thick it felt like it might snap at any moment. The estate was alive with activity, with staff rushing to accommodate the new guests while maintaining the meticulous standards Mrs. Chavez demanded. I threw myself into work, scrubbing floors, polishing silver, and reorganizing storage closets that didn’t even need it. Anything to keep my mind occupied and my interactions with Nicholas — and her — to a minimum. But it was impossible to avoid them entirely.

Every time I turned a corner, it felt like I ran into them. Her laughter echoed through the halls as she chatted with Mrs. Chavez, her heels clicking against the marble floors as she walked arm-in-arm with Nicholas to dinner or out to the garden for a stroll. She looked every bit the perfect fiancée, radiant and confident, and Nicholas played his role just as well. He smiled when she spoke, nodded when she made a joke, and rested his hand lightly on the small of her back as they walked. They were picture-perfect. But I couldn’t help noticing the cracks.

It was subtle, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention. The way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when she leaned into him. The slight hesitation in his voice when he agreed with her about something trivial. The way his laugh sounded hollow whenever she told him something that was supposed to be funny. The way he glanced at me when he thought no one was looking, his expression unreadable but heavy with something I couldn’t name.

And then there was her.

She wasn’t as perfect as she appeared. She had a habit of nitpicking the staff’s work, pointing out the smallest imperfections in a way that felt more like asserting dominance than genuine concern. She constantly asked for things she didn’t really need — a different brand of water, freshly ironed pillowcases in the middle of the day — and always with a saccharine smile that didn’t quite hide the edge in her voice. She didn’t like me. That much was clear.

She didn’t say it outright, of course. She was too polished for that. But the way she watched me, the subtle digs in her words, the way she lingered just a little too long in the places I was working — it all made her feelings obvious. Still, I tried to keep my head down and focus on my job. I reminded myself that I didn’t matter to her, but the tension between us only seemed to grow.

The next crack appeared one morning, just as the estate was waking up. I was helping Paolo prep for breakfast in the kitchen — slicing fresh fruit, arranging pastries on a silver platter, and listening to his usual banter about how Americans don’t understand the value of a properly cooked egg. The rhythmic routine was almost enough to settle the nerves that had been my constant companion since Nicholas’s return.

Almost.

The door swung open, and the kitchen’s hum fell into a brief lull as Nicholas strolled in, followed closely by Valerie. His white t-shirt clung to him in a way that shouldn’t have caught my attention, but it did, and I forced my gaze back to the counter in front of me, slicing the strawberries a little too quickly.

“Morning, Paolo,” Nicholas said, his voice casual but warm. “Do you mind if we eat breakfast in here? The dining room feels… too much today.”

“Of course,” Paolo replied with a grin, always eager to play host to the family’s golden son. “Have a seat. I’ll whip up something special for you both.”

Valerie slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, her glossy hair still wet from a shower and tucked behind her ears. She looked effortlessly stunning, even in something as simple as a very loose-fitting tank top and yoga pants. It was infuriating how perfect she seemed, even now.

Nicholas leaned against the counter, his dark eyes scanning the spread of fresh ingredients I had sliced and diced. As I continued slicing strawberries, I could see Nicholas’s eyes flick over to me from my periphery and before he even had the chance to open his mouth, I glanced over to Valerie, who was already watching me and him. I grabbed the cutting board and turned my back to them, setting it down on the counter next to the stove and continuing my task.

“Paolo, do you have any leftover champagne from the brunch?” Valerie asked. “I’m craving a mimosa.”

I froze, the knife in my hand pausing mid-slice as the words sank in. Huh?

Paolo’s cheerful demeanor didn’t falter, though I caught the briefest flicker of surprise in his eyes from the corner of my eyes. “Ah, let me check. But, uh…” He glanced at Nicholas, then at Valerie, a question hanging unspoken in the air. “Is that…okay?”

Nicholas frowned slightly, his head tilting in confusion before realization dawned on his face. “Oh,” he said, his tone cautious as he turned to her. “Babe, you’re not supposed to drink while pregnant.”

Valerie blinked, her lips parting as if caught off guard. She recovered quickly, her laugh light and breezy. “Oh, come on, Nic. It’s just one mimosa. The doctor said a little bit of alcohol is fine, especially this early.”

Nicholas didn’t look convinced, his brow furrowing as he leaned closer to her, whispering, “Early? I thought you were almost four months.”

She waved him off with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, the movement almost theatrical. “You worry too much. It’s fine. It’s not like I’m downing tequila shots or anything.”

I kept my head down, forcing my hands to keep moving as I finished slicing the strawberries. My heart pounded in my chest, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. Paolo’s silence stretched on a beat too long before he cleared his throat and gave her a polite nod.

“Let me grab a bottle,” he said, turning toward the pantry.

Nicholas straightened, his unease lingering in his expression as he looked at her again. “I’m just saying, maybe we should check with your doctor before—”

“Nic,” she interrupted, her voice firm but still sweet. “It’s fine. Trust me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to me briefly before he sighed and gave her a small nod. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

She flashed him a brilliant smile, her fingers brushing against his arm. “Thank you, baby. You’re the best.”

Paolo returned moments later with a chilled bottle of champagne, and I forced myself to focus on the fruit in front of me, pretending not to notice as he handed it over. Valerie poured herself a mimosa with practiced ease, the splash of champagne fizzing into the glass, and took a delicate sip.

Nicholas watched her, his brow still furrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything else. He picked up a piece of toast from the platter Paolo had set out and leaned against the counter, biting into it absently.

Paolo’s eyes flicked to me, a subtle glance that told me he’d noticed it too. I gave the smallest shake of my head, silently telling him to let it go. It wasn’t our place to question her. Not yet, anyway.

“Alright, what do you want to eat, hmm?” Paolo asked Nicholas with forced cheerfulness, breaking the tension that had settled over the room.

Nicholas smiled faintly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he answered. But my focus remained on Valerie, who was now casually scrolling through her phone with her mimosa in hand, looking completely unbothered.

The moment passed, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as Paolo worked his magic in the kitchen. But the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. It stayed there, a quiet, nagging reminder that something wasn’t quite right.

I tried to shake off the unease as the morning unfolded, immersing myself in mundane tasks to keep my mind from spinning in a hundred different directions. But it was no use. The scene in the kitchen kept replaying in my head, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

The thing was, her request for a mimosa wasn’t just off — it was brazen. Most women wouldn’t risk even the perception of drinking while pregnant, especially not in front of their fiancé and staff. Yet she had smiled, shrugged off Nicholas’s concerns, and taken that sip without a second thought.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, I found myself outside, sweeping the stone pathway leading to the garden. The rhythmic scrape of the broom against the ground was almost meditative, drowning out the world around me. Or at least, it was until Paolo appeared, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with something more subdued.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice low as he approached. “Got a minute?”

I paused, leaning the broom against the nearby wall. “What’s up?”

He glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one else was within earshot, before stepping closer. “About this morning,” he began, his tone careful. “Did that feel…off to you?”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the handle of the broom. “You mean the mimosa thing?”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s not my business, but…it just didn’t sit right.”

I exhaled slowly, unsure of how much to say. “It didn’t sit right with me either,” I admitted. “Maybe she’s just careless,” I suggested weakly, though I didn’t believe it myself.

Paolo shook his head, his expression unreadable. “Maybe.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between us, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The distant sound of Nicholas’s laughter from the main house floated on the breeze, a stark contrast to the unease hanging in the air.

“Oh, my god,” I managed to speak through a fit of quiet  laughter, “I can’t believe you just said that, Nic.”

Nic and I were cuddling on the couch in the living room, laying down with our legs tangled together as we quietly watched a movie — Parasite — in our pajamas. He had his skinny arm wrapped around my waist, his hand carefully clutching my tummy so I wouldn’t fall off the edge.

It was well into the night, 2:38AM. His family was out for the weekend, my mom was too busy catching up on sleep to notice me sneaking out. He wasn’t supposed to be in the house, and neither was I; he had told his mom he’d be staying with a friend while they were gone, but he snuck us back into the estate, wanting to spend time with me.

The glow from the television flickered across the room, casting faint shadows over the walls as we lay there, cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The world outside could’ve crumbled, and I wouldn’t have noticed — not with the warmth of his body pressed against mine, his laughter rumbling softly in my ear

His laughter rumbled in his chest, warm and quiet, as he tightened his hold on me. “I’m just saying,” Nic murmured, his breath warm against my neck, “if I ever find a hidden stash of money, you’re the first person I’m calling. We’ll disappear together and live like royalty in some obscure village in Europe.”

I tilted my head back to look at him, my laughter fading into a quiet smile. “That’s the worst idea ever, Nic. We’d get caught in, like, a week.”

He smirked, his dark brown eyes gleaming with mischief. “Not if you’re the one planning the escape. You’re way too good at being sneaky.”

“Me?” I scoffed, nudging his side with my elbow. “You’re the one who snuck back into your own house like a criminal.”

He grinned, unrepentant. “What can I say? I missed you.”

The weight of his words hung between us, heavy and meaningful. My heart skipped, the warmth of his body against mine suddenly feeling too intense. I tried to play it off, rolling my eyes as I adjusted the blanket draped over us. “You’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he teased, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “Admit it, baby.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding at the way he said the word baby. It was a nickname he used sparingly, but every time he did, it felt like he was branding it into my skin.

“Maybe,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my temple. “I knew it.”

I didn’t respond, instead focusing on the movie playing on the screen. We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came after hours of talking and laughing. The room felt like its own little world, separate from the chaos of reality, the weight of his looming departure momentarily forgotten. But the heat of his gaze on me was impossible to ignore. After a moment, I felt his hand tighten slightly on my waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my shirt in a soothing motion.

“Maybe you could go with me,” he said after a while, his voice quieter now.

I froze, my stomach twisting at his words. I turned my head to look at him, my brows furrowing. “Nic—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted, his expression earnest. “You could leave here and come with me. You can transfer to UCLA or something.”

For a moment, I let myself imagine it — the two of us starting over in Los Angeles, far away from all the pressures and expectations that seemed to define his life here. A part of me knew better than to believe him, knew this was nothing more than a fleeting fantasy. But another part of me — the part that still clung to the idea of us, of him — couldn’t help but entertain the idea.

“Tell me what it would be like,” I said suddenly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Our life in L.A.,” I said, opening my eyes to meet his. “If I went with you. Tell me what it would be like.”

Nic’s eyes lit up, a boyish grin spreading across his face as if he’d been waiting for me to ask. He shifted on the couch, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look down at me, his fingers still tracing soft circles on my waist.

“Okay,” he began, his voice filled with excitement, “we’d get this tiny apartment in West Hollywood. Nothing fancy, just enough space for us and, like, one really ugly couch that we’d find at a thrift store.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’d get the couch, wouldn’t you?”

“Obviously,” he said, grinning. “It’d have the worst pattern — like neon flowers or something — but it’d be ours. And we’d make it work because we’d have a killer view of the city from our fire escape.”

“Oh, so we’re hanging out on the fire escape now?” I teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Hell yeah,” he said, his voice laced with a mix of seriousness and playfulness. “We’d sit out there at night with a bottle of cheap wine — you’d drink most of it because I’m not really into wine — and we’d watch the city lights until the sun came up. And every once in a while, I’d make you listen to me practice lines for auditions.”

I snorted. “I’d probably end up being better at your lines than you.”

“You probably would,” he admitted, smirking. “But then you’d have to promise not to steal my roles.”

“No promises,” I said, my smile softening as I looked up at him. “What else?”

“Well,” he continued, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, “you’d enroll at UCLA, and you’d absolutely crush it. You’d have this whole group of friends who’d think you were the coolest person ever. And I’d show up after my auditions and embarrass you by making dumb jokes in front of them.”

I rolled my eyes, but my chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. “Sounds terrible.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and leaned closer, his forehead resting against mine. “It wouldn’t be, though,” he said softly. “It’d be perfect. Just you and me, figuring it all out together.”

For a moment, I let myself believe him. I let myself imagine waking up in a tiny, sunlit apartment, tangled in sheets that smelled like him. I imagined late-night conversations on that ugly thrift store couch, walking hand-in-hand through streets I’d never been to, and stealing kisses on a fire escape with the city buzzing around us. It was a beautiful dream, one that made my chest ache with both longing and dread.

But dreams weren’t reality.

“We can worry about all of that later,” I said quietly, breaking the spell. “Right now it’s just you and me — right here.”

Nic studied me, his dark eyes flickering with an emotion I couldn’t quite name. His hand lingered against my cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of my jaw. The air between us was heavy, charged with unspoken feelings that neither of us dared to put into words.

“Right here,” he echoed softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Okay.”

I leaned into his touch, letting my eyes flutter shut as I memorized the way his skin felt against mine, the warmth of his body pressed so close to me.

Nic’s hand slid from my cheek, his arm wrapping securely around my waist once more as he pulled me closer. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was comforting, grounding in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

For a long time, neither of us spoke. The movie played on, its plot forgotten as we soaked in the warmth of each other’s presence. Nic’s fingers absently traced patterns on my side, his touch light and soothing.

“I’ll just hide in your suitcase. No one will ever know,” I joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Nic let out a soft laugh, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “You’d probably get me arrested.”

“Worth it,” I teased, though my voice wavered slightly.

He tightened his hold on me, his smile fading as his expression turned serious once more. The tension between us was palpable, the moment stretching out like it was trying to make up for all the time we wouldn’t have later. I leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, trying to convey everything I couldn’t put into words. He responded immediately, his hand slipping into my hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling me impossibly closer.

I wanted to believe him, to let myself get swept away in the fantasy of us. But deep down, I knew better. He had a whole world waiting for him, a world that didn’t include late-night movie marathons and whispered promises on the couch. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to let go — not yet.

I pressed a soft kiss to his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart fill the silence between us. We both knew the truth — no matter how much we wanted to hold on to this moment, the future was already rushing toward us, unstoppable and inevitable.

But for now, we pretended it wasn’t. We pretended we had all the time in the world, cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the living room, holding on to each other as if the rest of the world didn’t exist, as if the moment would never end.

“Should we keep an eye out?” Paolo asked quietly.

I blinked, the vivid memory dissolving as Paolo’s question pulled me back to the present. The garden’s hum of distant conversation and the clinking of glasses filtered into my awareness again. I turned to him, my fingers tightening around the broom handle.

“Keep an eye out for what?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

Paolo tilted his head toward the house, where Nicholas and Valerie had disappeared moments ago. “For her,” he said, his tone careful. “Something’s…off, don’t you think?”

I hesitated, the question hanging heavy between us. The mimosa incident replayed in my mind, along with the countless subtle digs and sharp smiles she’d thrown my way. But I wasn’t sure how to answer Paolo without revealing more than I should.

“I don’t think it’s our business,” I said finally, my voice firm even as my chest tightened. “Whatever’s going on between them, it’s… not for us to get involved.”

Paolo studied me, his sharp eyes narrowing as if he could see straight through the lie I’d just told. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he nodded slowly. “Maybe not,” he conceded, though the doubt lingered in his tone. “But if she keeps acting like she owns the place — and if she keeps treating you like that — I might have to accidentally spill some perfume in her mimosas.”

I let out a startled laugh, the sound louder than I intended. It felt good, even if it was fleeting. “Don’t you dare, Paolo,” I said, shaking my head. “Mrs. Chavez would fire both of us on the spot.”

Paolo shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Worth it.”

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth of his humor helped chip away at the tension that had been coiled in my chest all day. I tightened my grip on the broom and turned back to the path I’d been sweeping. “Let’s just get through this week without any dramatic incidents, okay?”

Paolo didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was softer. “You know, (Y/N), you’re too good at keeping quiet. But don’t forget, not everyone deserves that kind of grace.”

His words struck a chord I didn’t want to acknowledge, so I simply nodded, keeping my focus on the broom as I swept the pathway. Paolo lingered for a moment longer before heading back toward the kitchen, whistling a cheerful tune that didn’t quite match the lingering weight of our conversation.

As I worked, the sunlight began to fade, casting long shadows across the garden. The air grew cooler, the estate slowly returned to its usual quiet, the chaotic energy of the morning giving way to a calm that felt almost eerie in its contrast.

By the time I finished my tasks and made my way back inside, the house felt empty, save for the faint murmur of voices coming from the sitting room. I didn’t need to look to know who was there. The pull of his presence was unmistakable, and I felt it in the way my heart skipped, the way my steps faltered as I passed by the open doorway.

Nicholas’s voice carried out softly, low and warm as he spoke to his mother. Valerie was there too, her laughter light and airy, perfectly timed to whatever joke he’d just made.

I paused just out of sight, my fingers brushing against the doorframe as I lingered for a moment longer than I should have. The sound of Nicholas’s voice, rich and familiar, sent a pang through my chest, the warmth of it bringing back every memory I’d tried to bury.

“Nic, tell Valerie about the time you got locked out of the house and tried to climb through the kitchen window,” Mrs. Chavez said, her voice filled with amusement. “You were what — eighteen? And had the nerve to blame Paolo for not leaving it open.”

“Oh, come on,” Nicholas said, his tone light and teasing. “Paolo swore he’d leave it open for me. And in my defense, I made it halfway through before I got stuck.”

I could picture it so vividly — Nicholas’s sheepish grin, the warmth in his eyes as he spun the story for maximum comedic effect. It was a part of him I’d always loved, the way he could charm a room without even trying. And now, watching him slip so effortlessly back into his role as the golden son, I felt a sharp ache of longing for the way things used to be.

I forced myself to move, slipping past the doorway as quietly as I could and heading for the hallway to make my way to the half-bath and have a few moments for myself before having to clock out with my mom and go home.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, locking it softly before leaning back against the cold wood. My chest heaved as I fought to regulate my breathing, the weight of the day pressing against my ribcage like an iron vice.

I couldn’t help but think about what Nicholas had told me a few days ago during the homecoming brunch, his words echoing in my mind, as clear and haunting as the memory of his touch.

“It’s not as simple as you think.”

I didn’t know what he meant. Was it an excuse? A warning? A plea? I couldn’t tell. Nicholas had always been so good at telling me exactly what I wanted to hear, but this… this felt different. There was a heaviness in his voice that lingered, gnawing at me like a question I didn’t dare ask.

I closed my eyes, letting the faint hum of the air vent fill the silence as I replayed every word, every glance, every moment of the past few days. What wasn’t simple? His engagement? Her pregnancy? Or was it… us?

I hated that my mind even went there. Hated the way my stomach flipped at the unfounded idea that he might still feel something for me. Hated that despite everything — the years, the distance, the her — I still felt tethered to him in a way that defied logic and reason. It wasn’t fair for any of us.

I pressed my palms against the cool porcelain sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes wide and glassy. I looked like someone I didn’t recognize — someone who was still clinging to the past, hoping for something that could never be.

With a deep breath, I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face. The sharp chill jolted me out of my thoughts, grounding me in the present. I couldn’t afford to spiral, not now. Not when I still had to face him again. Not when I had to walk out of this house and pretend like I didn’t feel like I was falling apart from the inside out.

Gripping the edge of the sink, I let the water run for a moment longer, watching as it swirled down the drain. I wanted to believe it could take my feelings with it, flushing them away until there was nothing left but the professional, composed person I was supposed to be.

But the ache in my chest remained, stubborn and unrelenting.

I dried my face with a towel, smoothing down the front of my uniform as I straightened up. My reflection stared back at me, and for a moment, I almost believed the mask I was wearing. Almost.

As I unlocked the door and stepped back into the hallway, the faint murmur of voices from the sitting room reached my ears again. Nicholas’s laugh cut through the noise, warm and familiar, sending a shiver down my spine.

My mom, Paolo, and Maria approached me then.

“Ready to go?” My mom asked with a smile. I nodded my head. “Okay, let’s go say bye.”

“Sure,” I replied softly, forcing a small smile. The last thing I wanted was another moment in that sitting room, another chance for Nicholas to look at me with those unreadable dark eyes. But I nodded and followed my mom and the others down the hall, my steps heavy with reluctance.

The sitting room came into view, the golden glow of the chandelier illuminating the scene like a snapshot of perfection. Mrs. Chavez stood near the fireplace, her glass of wine held delicately in one hand as she laughed at something Nicholas had said. Valerie sat on the couch beside him, her hand resting on his knee, her expression poised and radiant.

I lingered in the doorway, letting my mom take the lead. She greeted Mrs. Chavez warmly, the two women exchanging pleasantries while Paolo and Maria offered polite smiles. I stayed a step behind them, hoping to blend into the background and avoid drawing any attention to myself, just as Valerie warned me to do all those days ago. But, of course, Nicholas’s gaze found me almost immediately.

It was as if he had some sort of radar that zeroed in on me the second I entered a room. His dark eyes softened when they landed on mine, the faintest flicker of something unspoken passing between us. I couldn’t place it — regret, longing, guilt? Maybe all of it.

I tried to look away, to focus on Mrs. Chavez’s effusive gratitude or the polite laughter of the staff. But his gaze pinned me in place, and for a moment, the room fell away. The warmth of the chandelier, the clinking of glasses, the sound of Valerie’s light laughter — they all faded, leaving only the two of us locked in a silent battle of wills.

I could see the questions in his eyes, could feel the weight of his unspoken words pressing against my chest. But I couldn’t give him anything. Not here. Not now.

“(Y/N),” Mrs. Chavez said, her voice breaking through the moment like a sharp blade. “Thank you so much for your hard work this week and being accommodating for Nicholas and Valerie their first week here. Truly, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

My lips stretched into a polite smile as I nodded. “It’s always a pleasure, Mrs. Chavez. I’m glad everything went smoothly.”

“It went better than smoothly,” Valerie chimed in, her voice saccharine sweet. “You’ve been such a big help. We’re all so lucky to have you.”

Her words dripped with false sincerity, the subtle emphasis on help making my stomach churn. She smiled at me, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn’t quite name. Possession, maybe? Control?

“Thank you,” I managed, keeping my voice steady. “I’m glad I could assist.”

My mom gave Mrs. Chavez a final warm goodbye before turning to me, her smile gentle but tired. “Ready to head home, sweetheart?”

I nodded quickly, eager to escape the suffocating tension that seemed to follow me like a shadow. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Drive safely!” Mrs. Chavez called out, her tone cheerful as we turned to leave.

“Goodnight,” Nicholas said softly, his voice so low I doubted anyone else heard it. But I did. And it was enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I didn’t turn back. I couldn’t. I followed my mom and the others out of the sitting room, keeping my head down and my pace brisk. But as we stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze still on me, like a ghost trailing behind.

The car ride home was quiet. My mom chatted lightly with Paolo and Maria, but I stayed silent, staring out the window as the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes as I tried to banish the thoughts. But they wouldn’t go away. They clung to me, persistent and unrelenting, like the ghost of a dream I couldn’t let go.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to hate how easily he could unravel me with a single glance. But more than that, I wanted to hate myself for letting him. For still caring. For still hoping.

That night, long after my mom had gone to bed and the house was enveloped in an almost oppressive silence, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

I wasn’t expecting anyone to call — least of all him. But when I saw Nicholas’s name on the screen, my stomach flipped. I hadn’t seen his name flash across my phone in over four years. He would call sporadically when he first moved to Los Angeles, but I never bothered to answer him, still hurt. But he persisted, checking up on me for over a year, but eventually those interactions petered out until they stopped completely.

My first instinct was to ignore it, to pretend I didn’t see it and let it go to voicemail. But my fingers betrayed me, and before I knew it, I was answering.

“What are you doing?” I asked without preamble, keeping my voice low as I climbed out of bed and walked over to my window to look out into the neighborhood.

“So you do answer the phone,” he said softly, the warmth of his voice disarming. It was the same tone he’d used years ago when he’d call late at night, just because he was bored or couldn’t sleep. “Did I wake you?”

I glanced at the clock. It was just past 2AM. “No,” I lied. “But you shouldn’t be calling me.”

“Why not?” he asked, a teasing lilt creeping into his tone.

“Because it’s two in the morning,” I replied, leaning against the window frame. I glanced out into the quiet street, the glow of the streetlights casting faint shadows on the pavement. “And because you shouldn’t be calling me, period.”

Nicholas chuckled softly, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “God, you haven’t changed at all. Always scolding me like I’m some kind of delinquent.”

“Maybe because you were a delinquent,” I shot back. “Sneaking out, pulling pranks, climbing into windows — need I go on?”

He laughed, a low, familiar sound that made my chest ache. “Okay, fair. But you were always the one to bail me out.”

“Someone had to,” I said, crossing my arms. “Why are you calling me, Nicholas?” I asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice losing some of its playfulness. “I guess I just missed talking to you.”

The words hung between us, heavy and unspoken for so long that I wasn’t sure how to respond. Part of me wanted to hang up, to stop this before it became something I couldn’t handle. But the other part of me — the part that still remembered the way he used to make me laugh until my stomach hurt — couldn’t let go.

“You’re not allowed to miss me,” I said finally, my voice softer than I intended.

“Why not?” he asked, and there was an edge of vulnerability in his tone that made my chest tighten.

“Nic…” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish.

“Do you remember the time I snuck you into the neighborhood pool?” he asked, his voice lightening again, like he was trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

I laughed despite myself. “How could I forget? You almost got us arrested.”

“Almost,” he emphasized. “But we didn’t, thanks to my brilliant negotiation skills.”

“You mean your ability to look like a terrified boy who couldn’t possibly break the law?” I teased.

“Hey, whatever works,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “That was a good night.”

“It was,” I admitted, leaning against the window. “Even if you did almost get us caught.”

“See? You liked a little danger,” he said, his tone teasing again. “You just didn’t want to admit it.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I warned, though the smile on my face lingered.

We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came from years of knowing someone so well. For a moment, it felt like we were back in our old pattern, like the years and the distance hadn’t changed anything.

“I missed this too,” I said softly, almost to myself.

“I knew it,” he said, his voice quiet but triumphant. “You’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

“Go to bed, Nic,” I said, but there was no heat in my words.

“Goodnight, baby,” he said, the nickname slipping out so effortlessly that it took me a second to register it.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat, and I could hear the uncertainty on the other side of the line. I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the phone as my mind scrambled for a response. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, drowning out everything else.

“Nicholas,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t… you can’t call me that anymore.”

There was a pause, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. Then, his voice came through, soft and almost apologetic. “I’m sorry. It just slipped out.”

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, closing my eyes as the ache in my chest deepened. “Goodnight, Nicholas,” I whispered.

When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

I ended the call and stared at my phone for a long moment, the screen dark and lifeless in my hand. My reflection in the glass caught my eye, and I barely recognized the person staring back at me—eyes wide and glassy, lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of the past etched into every line of my face.

I turned away from the window and climbed back into bed, pulling the blankets up around me like they could shield me from the storm raging inside. But sleep didn’t come easily. His voice lingered in my mind, the way he’d said my name, the way he’d called me baby like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. And no amount of late-night phone calls could undo that.

Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I drifted into a restless sleep, the echoes of his voice haunting my dreams.

The following week, I arrived at the Chavez estate early, the morning sun casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. My stomach twisted with unease as I approached the staff entrance, the memory of Nicholas’s voice from our late-night phone call still fresh in my mind. I hadn’t seen him since that night, and I wasn’t sure what to expect when I did.

As I stepped into the kitchen, the familiar scent of coffee and fresh pastries greeted me, but the usual hum of morning activity was missing. The house felt quieter than usual, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

I moved through the hallways, heading toward the laundry room to drop off a stack of linens. As I passed by the library, faint voices reached my ears. I paused, instinctively slowing my steps as I recognized one of them.

Nicholas.

I couldn’t make out what he was saying at first, but his tone was low and tense. I edged closer, staying just out of sight behind the slightly ajar door. His voice grew clearer, and I caught snippets of the conversation.

“Why won’t you let me go with you?” Nicholas asked, frustration evident in his tone.

“I already told you, Nic,” Valerie replied, her voice sharp but hushed. “It’s not necessary. I can handle it on my own.”

“That’s not the point,” he said, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. “I’m the father of that baby. I should be there with you, especially for something as important as this.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” she said smoothly, but her tone carried an edge that made me stiffen. “You’d just be sitting around for hours, and I don’t want to waste your time.”

“It’s not a waste of time,” Nicholas shot back. “You’ve been brushing me off about these appointments for weeks now. What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on,” she insisted, her voice taking on a defensive note. “You’re overthinking this, like you always do.”

I pressed myself closer to the wall, my heart pounding in my chest. I shouldn’t be listening to this. I knew that. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t force myself to walk away.

“This isn’t just about me, Valerie,” Nicholas continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. “It’s about our baby. Don’t you get that?”

“I do,” she said, her tone softening slightly. “But you have so much on your plate already, Nic. I don’t want to add to it.”

“Stop making excuses,” he said, his voice tinged with desperation. “Valerie, if there’s something you’re not telling me…”

There was a long pause, the silence stretching out like a taut string ready to snap. When Valerie finally spoke again, her voice was icy. “You’re being ridiculous,” she said. “There’s nothing to tell, and I don’t appreciate you accusing me of hiding something.”

“I’m not accusing you,” Nicholas said, his voice heavy with frustration. “I just want to understand why you won’t let me go with you. You’re shutting me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” she snapped. “You’re just imagining things.”

The conversation ended abruptly as the sound of footsteps grew louder, and I realized too late that they were heading toward the door. I quickly ducked into a nearby hallway, pressing my back against the wall as I tried to calm my racing heart.

A moment later, the library door swung open, and Valerie strode out, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She didn’t notice me as she made her way down the hall, her posture stiff and unyielding. Nicholas followed a few seconds later, his expression grim as he ran a hand through his hair.

I held my breath, willing myself to stay hidden until they were both out of sight. Only when the house was quiet again did I step back into the hallway, my thoughts swirling with everything I’d just overheard.

Something was definitely wrong. And whatever it was, it wasn’t as simple as Valerie claimed.

I made my way over to the supply closet by the stairs, ready to start my day of work. A few hours later, as I moved between the kitchen and dining room setting up for lunch, I couldn’t help but notice how unusually quiet the house felt. It wasn’t just the lack of guests bustling around or the muted sounds of the staff — it was the absence of her.

Valerie had left for her doctor’s appointment shortly after the argument in the library, and the air felt lighter without her presence, though a sense of unease still lingered. Nicholas, on the other hand, seemed restless. I’d spotted him pacing the garden once or twice, his head bent as though deep in thought. Each time our paths crossed, he lingered a little too long, his dark eyes following me in a way that made it impossible to ignore him.

I ducked into the dining room, smoothing the tablecloth with careful precision and adjusting the silverware until it was perfectly aligned. But the sound of approaching footsteps made my stomach twist. I didn’t need to look up to know it was him.

“(Y/N).” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and I froze mid-motion, my hand gripping the edge of the table.

I took a breath before turning to face him. “Yes, Nicholas?” I said, keeping my tone polite and professional, though my pulse quickened at the sight of him standing in the doorway.

His brow furrowed at my use of formality, but he didn’t call me out on it. Instead, he stepped closer, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Can we talk?”

I glanced toward the kitchen, half-expecting someone — anyone — to walk in and save me. But the doorway remained empty. I sighed, resigning myself to the inevitable. “What is it?” I asked, straightening up.

Nicholas hesitated, as though debating how much to say. Finally, he shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Something’s not right,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously, crossing my arms over my chest.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched across his face. “She’s been acting… different. Evasive. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or something else, but she won’t let me go to any of the appointments. She won’t even show me pictures of any recent ultrasounds, and she changes the subject whenever I bring it up.”

I resisted the urge to point out the obvious — you’re asking the wrong person. Instead, I kept my expression neutral, though my mind was racing with everything I’d overheard earlier.

“Nicholas,” I began, keeping my voice steady, “maybe she’s just scared. Pregnancy can be complicated.”

“Don’t defend her,” he said sharply, his gaze snapping to mine. But then his face softened, guilt flickering in his dark eyes. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just — she’s hiding something. I can feel it.”

I looked away, unsure how to respond. His voice was heavy with an unspoken plea, and it pulled at something deep inside me. But I couldn’t get involved. Not like this.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” I said, forcing my tone to remain calm. “You’re her fiancé. She should trust you enough to tell you whatever’s on her mind.”

“And what if she doesn’t?” he asked, stepping closer. His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “What if she’s lying to me?”

The question hung in the air between us, charged with an intensity that made my chest tighten. I searched his face, looking for some indication of what he wanted from me. Reassurance? Advice? Or something else entirely?

“That’s something only she can answer,” I said finally, my voice quiet but firm. “You need to talk to her, not me.”

His jaw clenched, frustration flashing in his eyes. “I’ve tried. She shuts me out every time.”

I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. “Maybe you need to give her time. Or maybe… you need to ask yourself why she feels like she can’t be honest with you.”

Nicholas blinked, the weight of my suggestion seeming to land heavily on him. He looked down, his shoulders sagging slightly as he exhaled. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The vulnerability in his tone caught me off guard, and for a brief moment, I forgot about the walls I’d built between us. I reached out instinctively, my hand brushing against his arm. “You’ll figure it out, Nic,” I said softly, the nickname slipping out before I could stop it. “You always do.”

His head snapped up at the sound of his name on my lips, his gaze locking onto mine. The tension between us crackled like static electricity, and I quickly withdrew my hand, stepping back as reality crashed over me.

“I should get back to work,” I said hurriedly, avoiding his gaze as I moved toward the door.

“(Y/N), wait—”

But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My heart was pounding too hard, and I knew that if I stayed, I’d only end up making things worse. For both of us.

As I disappeared into the kitchen, I caught one last glimpse of him standing alone in the dining room, his expression unreadable but heavy with something I didn’t dare try to name.

Later that evening, Mrs. Chavez made a surprising announcement as the staff began cleaning up after lunch.

“Everyone, I insist you all join us for dinner tonight,” she said, her warm smile lighting up the room. “You’ve worked so hard lately, more so than usual, and I’d love for you to enjoy a meal with us as thanks for everything you do.”

Paolo shot me a curious look from across the kitchen, while my mom exchanged hesitant glances with Maria. Staff dining with the family was an unusual request, but it was hard to say no to Mrs. Chavez’s gracious invitation.

“It would be an honor, Mrs. Chavez,” my mom finally said, speaking for all of us.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was a bundle of nerves. The dining room had been transformed into an elegant yet intimate setting, with candles flickering softly on the long table. The guests were fewer now — the younger Chavez children, Mrs. Chavez and her husband, Nicholas and Valerie, and us — but the air of formality remained.

I sat between Paolo and my mom, doing my best to stay inconspicuous as the Chavez family took their seats at the head of the table. Nicholas was directly across from me, with Valerie beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She looked radiant as always, her smile bright and practiced as she engaged in polite conversation with Mrs. Chavez. But I couldn’t shake the memory of Nicholas’s earlier confession.

Paolo must have sensed the tension because he leaned over, his voice low as he murmured, “Relax, (Y/N). It’s just dinner. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I managed a weak smile, but the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.

Dinner began smoothly enough. Paolo, ever the entertainer, kept the conversation light with stories of his childhood in Sicily, drawing laughter from everyone at the table — even Valerie.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to sneak a goat into my grandmother’s kitchen?” he asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Mrs. Chavez chuckled. “A goat, Paolo? You must tell us the whole story.”

As Paolo launched into the tale, I stole a glance at Nicholas. He wasn’t laughing; instead, he seemed distracted, his gaze flicking toward me more often than was comfortable. I quickly looked away, focusing on cutting my steak into tiny, precise pieces. And every time I dared to look up, his dark eyes met mine, holding me captive for a fraction of a second before I forced myself to look away.

It wasn’t just the glances — it was the way he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as though he were restless. The way his smile never quite reached his eyes when he laughed at Paolo’s story. The way his attention drifted from Valerie every time she spoke, his responses automatic and distant.

Halfway through the meal, Valerie excused herself, a delicate hand resting on Nicholas’s shoulder as she whispered something to him before standing and walking out of the dining room.

I tried to focus on Paolo’s animated story, on the ripple of laughter that followed his exaggerated hand gestures, but something about her caught my attention. After a minute or two, I excused myself from the table, muttering something about going to the bathroom. Really, I made my way over to the kitchen.

That’s when I saw her.

Valerie was standing by the counter, a crystal wine glass in hand. Her back was to me, but I could see the stiff line of her shoulders, the way her fingers trembled slightly as she raised the glass to her lips and took a long, deliberate sip.

I froze in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat. Drinking? Again?

The sound of the glass clinking against the counter jolted me back to reality. She set it down carefully, wiping her lips with a practiced swipe of her thumb before straightening her posture and turning toward the door.

I darted back into the hallway, pressing myself against the wall as she exited the kitchen and headed back to the dining room, her steps measured and composed as if nothing had happened.

My heart pounded as I replayed the scene over and over in my head. There was no mistaking what I’d just seen. She wasn’t pretending to take a sip for appearances. She was drinking — and she was doing it when she thought no one was watching.

When I finally returned to the dining room, the conversation had shifted to lighter topics. Guests were chatting over glasses of wine, their laughter filling the space with a warm hum. I slipped back into my seat beside Paolo, but my mind was racing.

As soon as the plates were cleared and the guests began drifting toward the lounge for coffee, I saw my chance to slip away, stealing a half-empty bottle of wine on the way out. My chest felt tight, my thoughts spiraling as I made my way outside, the cool night air biting against my skin.

I needed space. I needed to think.

The pool house loomed ahead, its dark silhouette offering a semblance of privacy. I ducked behind it, leaning against the rough stone wall as I pulled out the bottle I’d hidden under my jacket earlier.

The wine was lukewarm now, and the first sip burned, sharp and bitter against my tongue. I wasn’t a red wine type of person, and I didn’t really drink, but right now I didn’t care. I tipped the bottle back for another, the warmth spreading through my chest, numbing the edges of the storm swirling in my mind.

The memory of Valerie in the kitchen, the glass of wine in her hand — what the hell was she thinking? Pregnant and drinking. The audacity, the recklessness, the… everything. She was lying. But why?

I took a long sip, the burn spreading through my chest and grounding me, if only for a moment. I closed my eyes, letting the cool night air lick at my skin, trying to drown out the thousand questions buzzing in my head. But instead of clarity, a different memory crept in — one I hadn’t let myself think about in years.

“Come on, just one drink,” Nicholas had said, holding up the bottle like it was a prize he’d won. He had pulled it out from under his bed. He was embarrassed he still had to sneak alcohol into his room, even though he was just a few months shy of turning 21. “You’re in college now. It’s about time.”

“You sound like a bad after-school special,” I’d replied, sitting cross-legged on his bed, my arms folded stubbornly. 

He laughed, low and smooth, the sound curling in my stomach like smoke. “Relax, baby. It’s one drink. Not like I’m handing you a syringe.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m your favorite asshole,” he shot back, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on. Live a little.”

The bottle in his hand was cheap — barely legal for him to buy, no doubt — but his grin was intoxicating, and God, I was too weak when it came to him.

“Fine,” I relented, snatching the bottle from him. “But if I throw up, it’s your fault.”

He plopped down beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as he handed me a mismatched mug — clearly stolen from the kitchen downstairs. “Here, princess. First taste of freedom.”

I rolled my eyes again, but the nickname sent a jolt through me that I tried to ignore. I twisted open the bottle cap as I carefully poured a splash into the mug. “Is that enough?” I quietly asked, tipping the cup toward Nicholas so he could decide.

Nic squinted at the mug, a smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s adorable. You really think that little sip is going to do anything?” He leaned over, his bare shoulder from the sleeveless shirt he was wearing pressing into mine as he grabbed the bottle and poured a more generous amount. “There. Now it’s a real drink.”

I glared at him, the scent of the alcohol already making my stomach twist. “If this tastes like shit, I’m blaming you.”

“You can blame me all you want, baby,” he said with a grin, leaning back and raising his own glass. “Cheers.”

I hesitated, staring at the mug like it might explode in my hands. Nic nudged me gently, his warm breath brushing against my ear. “Come on. Don’t make me drink alone.”

Rolling my eyes, I lifted the mug and took a small sip. The taste hit me like a punch to the throat — bitter, sharp, and completely unpleasant. I coughed, my face scrunching up in disgust as Nic burst out laughing beside me.

“Oh, my God,” he said between chuckles, his hand slapping his thigh. “Your face! Priceless.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I muttered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “This is disgusting. How do you even drink this?”

“Practice,” he said with a shrug, tipping his own glass back and taking a long sip. He didn’t even flinch. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Not sure I want to,” I muttered, setting the mug down on the floor beside me. “Seriously, why do people drink this? It’s awful.”

Nic grinned, leaning back against the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked so relaxed, so effortlessly cool, and it pissed me off just a little. “Because,” he said, swirling the liquid in his glass like he was some kind of expert, “it’s not about the taste. It’s about what comes after.”

“And what’s that? Regret?”

He laughed again, the sound warm and familiar, making my stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “No, baby. It’s about the buzz. The way everything feels lighter, easier. Like nothing can touch you.”

I eyed him skeptically but couldn’t ignore the way his words tugged at something deep inside me. “Sounds like an excuse to make bad decisions.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his gaze sliding to mine, dark and playful. “But bad decisions can be fun, you know.”

With a sigh, I picked up the mug and took another sip, bracing myself for the burn. This time, it wasn’t as bad. Still awful, but not the immediate assault on my taste buds I’d been expecting. I set the mug down again, shaking my head. Nic smirked, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made my cheeks warm.

The night blurred after that. One sip turned into another, then another, until the bottle was half-empty and I was leaning against Nic’s shoulder, giggling at something that wasn’t even funny. Everything felt fuzzy, warm, like the edges of the world had softened.

“You’re so bad at this,” Nic said, his arm draped casually around my shoulders. His voice was low and teasing, but there was something else there, something softer. “Lightweight.”

“Shut up,” I mumbled, poking his side. “I’m not bad. You’re just… good at being an alcoholic.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating through me as he pulled me closer. “I’m not an alcoholic. I’m an enthusiast.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, but I couldn’t stop smiling. My head was spinning, and my cheeks hurt from laughing so much, but I didn’t care. This was fun. Being with him like this, it was always fun.

Nic shifted beside me, his fingers brushing against my shoulder as he turned to look at me. His expression had changed, his usual smirk replaced by something more serious. “You’re really fucking cute when you’re drunk, you know that?”

I stared at him, my pulse quickening as his words sank in. The room was warm, and the alcohol had done its job, leaving me feeling weightless and a little reckless. “Stop,” I muttered, though my voice lacked any real conviction.

“I’m not kidding,” Nic said, his hand moving to my knee, his fingers brushing against my bare skin. His touch sent a jolt through me, and I hated how much I wanted him to keep going. “You’re always cute, but like this? Goddamn.”

“Nic,” I started, but he was already leaning in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was hungry. My heart raced as I kissed him back, the taste of whiskey still lingering on both our lips.

The kiss deepened, turning messy and heated as his hand slid up my thigh, pulling me closer. I let out a quiet moan, my fingers threading through his stringy hair as I shifted, straddling his lap. The feel of him beneath me, hard and wanting, sent a rush of heat through my body.

“You’re driving me crazy, baby,” he murmured against my lips, his hands gripping my hips. “I’ve been thinking about this all fucking week.”

“You’re drunk,” I teased, though my own words were slurred, my head spinning from the whiskey and the way he was looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

“Doesn’t mean I’m lying,” he shot back, his voice low and rough. His hands slid under my shirt, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my waist as he pushed the fabric higher. “Take this off.”

I obeyed without thinking, pulling the shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor. His eyes darkened as they roamed over me, his hands moving to cup my bare breasts. “Fuck,” he muttered, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, sending a shiver down my spine. 

“Nic,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as his mouth moved to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin before he kissed his way down to my chest.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking about?” he asked, his voice muffled against my skin. His hands moved to the waistband of my shorts, tugging them down along with my underwear in one swift motion. “This.” He shifted, laying back against the pillows and pulling me with him. “Come here,” he said, his hands guiding me until I was hovering over his face. My heart pounded, the mix of nerves and anticipation making my head spin.

“Nic, what are you—” I started, but his hands gripped my hips firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Let me have you like this.”

The way he looked at me, the hunger and heat in his gaze, made it impossible to argue. My breath caught as his hands guided me down, my thighs trembling as they settled on either side of his face.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulled me closer. And then his mouth was on me, hot and demanding, and the world tilted on its axis.

I gasped, my fingers curling into his hair for balance as his tongue moved against me with an intensity that made my head spin. The sensation was overwhelming, his stubble scratching against my thighs as he held me in place, his grip possessive and unrelenting.

“Nic,” I whimpered, my voice breaking as his tongue found a rhythm that had me arching against him, my body trembling under his touch. The alcohol in my system made everything feel heightened, every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue sending sparks of heat racing through me.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled but no less desperate. “You always do.”

His hands slid up to my waist, holding me steady as I began to rock against him, my movements uncoordinated and fueled by pure instinct. The feeling was almost too much, the pressure building low in my stomach with every stroke of his tongue. I leaned forward, bracing myself on the headboard as I chased the release that was just out of reach.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice low and thick. “Use me. Take what you need.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, the heat pooling between my legs growing unbearable. I moved faster, my breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as the pleasure built to a fever pitch.

“Nic, I—” My voice broke, my body trembling as the tension snapped, a wave of pleasure crashing over me so intensely it left me shaking. He didn’t stop, his mouth and hands guiding me through every aftershock until I was too sensitive to move.

When I finally sat limp over him, he guided me down, his lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against my thighs as I tried to catch my breath. “You’re fucking amazing,” he muttered, his voice low and raspy as he pulled me closer, his hands sliding up my back.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, my face buried in his chest as the aftershocks rippled through me. My heart was racing, my skin flushed and damp, but he just chuckled, his hands tracing lazy circles along my spine.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tender. He tilted my chin up, his dark eyes meeting mine. “You’re perfect.”

I fell beside him, my body still trembling, he looked at me with a smug grin, his mouth and nose glistening. “That good enough for you?” he teased, his voice rough, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Shut up,” I muttered, my cheeks burning, but I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

Nic chuckled, leaning over to kiss me, his mouth hot and insistent, and I could taste myself on his lips. His hands roamed my body, reigniting the fire that had barely subsided as he pressed me back against the pillows.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

I shivered, my pulse quickening as I looked up at him, his hair messy, his chest heaving, and his dark eyes fixed on me like I was the only thing that mattered. The tension crackled between us, the air heavy with the smell of sweat and alcohol and the undeniable pull of desire.

“Then show me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but he heard me.

And he did.

Nic didn’t hesitate, his lips crashing into mine as he hovered over me, his body pressing me into the mattress. His hands roamed my skin, rough and desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of me. He bit my lower lip gently before kissing down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. My heart pounded in my chest, the mixture of lust and whiskey making everything more intense, more raw.

“You drive me fucking insane, you know that?” he muttered, his voice muffled against my skin. His teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I gasped, arching into him.

“Nic—” His name slipped out in a breathless moan, my fingers digging into his shoulders as his hand slid between us, teasing, testing. I was already slick and ready for him, and the groan that rumbled from his chest made my stomach clench.

“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and need.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t form a coherent response as he pushed his fingers inside me, his movements slow and deliberate. My hips bucked against his hand, desperate for more, and he obliged, curling his fingers just right. I gasped, my back arching as he leaned down to capture my lips in a messy, heated kiss.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and commanding. His dark eyes bored into mine, filled with lust and something deeper that I couldn’t name.

“You,” I said, my voice trembling but certain.

His smirk was equal parts cocky and devastatingly sexy. “Then take me,” he said, pulling back just enough to shed the last of his clothes. His body was all sharp lines and hard muscle, and the way he looked at me — like I was the only thing he needed — made my breath hitch.

He settled back against the pillows, his hands on my thighs as he pulled me on top of him. “Ride me, baby,” he said, his voice rough and full of heat. “I wanna watch you.” Before I could respond, he kissed me, slow and deep, his hands sliding down to cup my ass as he pulled me against him. I could feel him, hard and ready beneath me.

My cheeks burned, but the alcohol buzzing through my veins gave me the confidence to do as he said. I sank down onto him slowly, both of us moaning as he filled me completely. The stretch was perfect, the burn grounding me as I adjusted to the feeling of him inside me.

“Goddamn, (Y/N),” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips tightly. “You feel so fucking good, baby. Every time. You feel like heaven.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. My hands braced against his chest as I moved, slow at first, then faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through me with every roll of my hips. His hands roamed my body, his fingers digging into my skin as he guided my movements, his eyes never leaving mine.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending on fire as I rolled my hips, drawing moans from both of us. Nic’s head fell back against the pillows, his eyes dark and hooded as he watched me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his hands sliding up my sides to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. “I could watch you like this all night.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I leaned forward, my hands braced on his chest as I quickened my pace. The angle made him hit deeper, and I cried out, my nails digging into his skin.

“God, Nic—” I couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t do anything but lose myself in him, in the way he felt, the way he looked at me like I was his entire world.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice tight as his hands gripped my hips, meeting my movements with his own. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The tension coiled tighter and tighter, and I knew I was close. “I—Nic, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice firm but full of heat. “Come on, baby. Let go.”

His words pushed me over the edge, my body tensing as pleasure crashed over me in waves. I cried out his name, my nails raking down his chest as I came undone. He followed moments later, his grip on me tightening as he thrust up into me one last time, his groan low and guttural.

For a moment, neither of us moved, our bodies tangled and slick with sweat, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. Then Nic pulled me down to lie against his chest, his arms wrapping around me as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“Bad decision, huh?” He asked with a lazy grin.

I let out a breathless laugh, my cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “The worst.”

“Good,” Nic tilted my chin up with his fingers, his dark eyes locking onto mine, still soft with lingering warmth and satiation, “I like being your worst decision.”

The sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel snapped me out of my thoughts. My heart leapt into my throat, and I pressed myself closer to the wall, willing whoever it was to pass by without noticing me. But then I heard his voice.

“(Y/N)?”

I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Of course, it was him.

The footsteps grew louder until Nicholas appeared around the corner, his tall frame backlit by the faint glow of the pool lights. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice low but not unkind.

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the neck of the wine bottle I still held. “Just thinking,” I said quietly, my voice steadier than I expected. “What are you doing out here?”

Nic stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the bottle in my hand before meeting my eyes again. “Looking for you,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “You left dinner pretty fast.”

“Not much of a coffee person,” I said, forcing a wry smile. My heart was racing, and I hated how easily he could unsettle me just by standing there.

He took another step closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I replied, my defenses snapping into place. I turned away from him, leaning against the wall and taking another sip from the bottle. The wine was still terrible, but it gave me something to focus on that wasn’t him.

Nic took a step closer, closing the distance between us until he was standing right in front of me. “Something happened at dinner. Talk to me,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch was light, tentative, but it sent a shiver through me all the same.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his touch lingered like a brand on my skin. “Nothing happened,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. I turned my face away, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Bullshit,” Nic said, his voice dropping lower, rougher. He stepped closer, his body just inches from mine. “I know you, baby. You don’t just disappear like that for no reason.”

The nickname cut through me like a knife, and I hated how it made my heart clench despite everything. “I told you not to call me that,” I muttered, my voice trembling slightly as I pushed away from the wall. I couldn’t stay still, couldn’t let him corner me like this.

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he exhaled sharply. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I just—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair as he looked away, his frustration evident.

“You just what?” I asked, my voice rising slightly. The wine was making me bold, and I hated how much I wanted an answer. “Why did you come out here, Nic? Why do you keep cornering me? What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know!” he snapped, his voice rough with emotion. He took a step back, his hands raking through his hair again as he paced. “Fuck, (Y/N), I don’t know. I just… I saw you leave, and I couldn’t stay in there knowing you were out here alone.”

I stared at him, his words settling heavily between us. He stopped pacing, turning to face me again, his dark eyes filled with something I couldn’t name.

“I miss you,” he said finally, his voice soft but filled with a raw honesty that made my chest ache. “I know I shouldn’t say it, but I do. And seeing you again, seeing you like this… it’s fucking killing me.”

My breath caught, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. The weight of his words, the way he was looking at me — it was too much, and not enough all at once. He was jeopardizing his life over something he didn’t know… that’s killing me.

I gripped the bottle tighter, using it to anchor myself as his words settled like a storm in my chest. My pulse raced, my thoughts a chaotic tangle of anger, longing, and the memories I’d been trying so hard to suppress.

“You’re fucking killing me, too,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, and I hated the way my voice cracked. “Do you think this is easy for me? Seeing you, hearing you say things like that, when you—” My voice broke, and I shook my head, swallowing hard. “You don’t get to miss me, Nic. You don’t get to do this.”

His expression shifted, the vulnerability giving way to something darker, sharper. “Why not?” he asked, stepping closer, his voice low and intense. “Why the fuck not? You think I wanted this? To be here with all this shit between us?”

“You chose this!” I snapped, my voice rising. “You chose this, Nic. You chose her, you chose your life, your future, and now you want to act like you didn’t? Like it wasn’t a choice?”

He flinched like I’d slapped him, but he didn’t back down. “I didn’t choose her,” he said, shaking his head. “I—“ his voice cracked. “I wanted to break up with her; I didn’t like being with her. Next thing I know, she’s pregnant, and I didn’t want to be someone who ran away like a coward, so…” he trailed off.

“…so you stayed,” I finished for him, my voice trembling with anger and something deeper, something raw and aching. “You stayed because it was the right thing to do. And that’s great, Nic. That’s really noble of you. But don’t come here, looking at me like this, saying things like that, and act like I’m the one who doesn’t get it.”

He stared at me, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know how fucked up this is?” he said, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t hate myself for this? For hurting you? For—”

“Stop,” I interrupted, my voice sharp. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

His mouth snapped shut, his chest heaving as he stared at me. The silence between us was thick and suffocating, filled with all the things we weren’t saying.

I turned away, pacing a few steps to put some distance between us. The cool night air bit at my skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat coursing through me, the anger and the longing and the sheer exhaustion of feeling everything all at once.

“You don’t get to come back into my life and act like you still have a place here,” I said, my back to him. “You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to look at me like you—”

“Like I what?” he cut in, his voice rising as he stepped closer. “Like I still love you?”

I froze, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. My breath caught, my pulse pounding in my ears as I turned to face him. “You don’t mean that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t mean that.”

His dark eyes burned into mine, raw and unguarded in a way I hadn’t seen in years. “I mean every fucking word,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’ve tried to stop. God, (Y/N), I’ve tried. But I can’t. I love you, and it’s fucking killing me because I know I don’t deserve you. I know I  fucked everything up back then. But I can’t—” His voice broke, and he looked away, his hands raking through his hair. “I can’t stop.”

The air between us felt heavy, charged with the weight of everything he’d just said. I wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to tell him how unfair it was for him to say these things when I’d spent years trying to move on, trying to forget the way he made me feel.

But more than that, I wanted to kiss him. To pull him close and let myself drown in the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel like the center of his universe even when I knew I shouldn’t be.

“You’re such an asshole,” I said finally, my voice shaking.

He let out a breathless laugh, his gaze snapping back to mine. “Yeah,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, humorless smile. “I am. But I’m your asshole.”

I hated him for that. For the way he could still make me want him, even now, even when everything was so fucked up.

“You don’t get to say that,” I said, my voice trembling as I took a step closer, my chest heaving with the weight of everything I was feeling. “You don’t get to—”

But before I could finish, he closed the distance between us, his hands cupping my face as his lips crashed into mine.

It was messy and desperate and everything I’d been trying to resist since the moment I saw him again. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as my own hands fisted in his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me grounded.

“You’re killing me,” I whispered against his lips, my voice breaking as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

“I know,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. “But I can’t stop. I can’t stay away from you.”

I didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his hands were on my waist, lifting me onto the edge of the low stone wall behind us. My legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, pulling him closer as his mouth trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Nic,” I gasped, my fingers threading through his hair as he pressed kisses along my collarbone, his hands gripping my thighs tightly.

“I need you,” he said, his voice low and raw as he looked up at me, his dark eyes filled with a desperation that mirrored my own. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

“I—” The words caught in my throat, my breath shallow and ragged as I stared down at him. His face was inches from mine, his lips parted, his dark eyes filled with raw vulnerability that cut through every ounce of resistance I’d tried to muster. “I want you,” I whispered, the confession tumbling out before I could stop it.

The second the words left my mouth, his lips were on mine, hot and demanding, like he was trying to claim every unspoken feeling we’d ever shared. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I gasped, my fingers fisting in his hair as his mouth moved to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his breath hot against my collarbone as his hands slid under my shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of my waist. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but let myself get lost in him. My head tilted back, giving him access to my neck as his lips trailed down.

“This is so fucked up,” I breathed, my voice trembling as his mouth found the curve of my shoulder.

My hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel him, to erase the space between us. He shrugged it off, and my breath hitched at the sight of him, all sharp lines and smooth skin, his muscles flexing as he reached for me.

I hadn’t seen him like this since he was 20. His body was leaner back then, but now he was all hard lines and tension, every golden muscle defined with bulging veins. My hands moved instinctively, tracing the contours of his chest, the smooth expanse of his skin sending a rush of heat through me. He was huge, in every sense of the word. The sight of him now, so much older, broader, and undeniably magnetic, made my head spin. 25 looked amazing on him.

His hands were on my hips again, pulling me toward him as he kissed me with a raw, desperate hunger that made my knees weak. Every touch, every sound, every breath between us felt charged, like the culmination of years of tension finally snapping.

“I can’t believe I ever let you go,” Nicholas muttered against my lips, his voice low and rough.

He stilled for a moment, his eyes darting between both of mine as if he was convincing himself that this was really happening. He then crouched down to collect his shirt from the floor and wrapped his hands around my thighs, lifting me effortlessly and making his way to the door of the pool house.

The cool night air rushed over me as Nicholas carried me, his grip firm but careful, his shirt draped haphazardly over one of my legs. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, my heart pounding so hard I could barely hear anything else. The faint sound of crickets in the distance mingled with the muffled hum of the estate behind us, but all I could focus on was him — the heat of his skin, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers pressed into my thighs.

When he reached the door of the pool house, he nudged it open with his shoulder, stepping inside and kicking it shut behind him. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the space. The scent of chlorine lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the heady musk of sweat and desire.

Nicholas set me down on the edge of the couch, his hands lingering on my hips as he knelt between my legs, his dark eyes meeting mine with a heat that sent a shiver down my spine.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he said, his voice low and rough, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my thighs. “How many times I’ve wished I could take it all back. Every mistake. Every second I wasted away from you.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. “Nic,” I started, but he cut me off with a kiss, his lips crashing into mine with a desperation that left me breathless.

“Don’t,” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding up to cup my face. “Don’t say anything. Just let me—let me have this.”

I couldn’t argue, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but let him consume me. His hands roamed my body, rough and urgent, as though he was trying to memorize every inch of me. My own hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips moved to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin and sending a jolt of electricity straight through me.

His hands slipped under my shirt, tugging it upward until I lifted my arms, letting him pull it over my head and toss it to the floor. His gaze raked over me, his breath hitching as his hands moved to the clasp of my bra. “God, you’re so perfect,” he said, his fingers trembling slightly as he unhooked it and slid the straps down my arms.

I gasped as the cool air hit my skin, followed by the heat of his mouth as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the curve of my breast. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as he kissed his way down, his tongue flicking over my nipple and drawing a quiet moan from my lips.

“Nic,” I whimpered, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked his way lower, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Nicholas’s hands gripped my hips firmly as his mouth continued its path downward, his lips and tongue leaving no inch of skin untouched. The heat between us was unbearable, a storm we could no longer hold back, and the weight of every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment of longing, exploded in this moment.

His fingers worked at the waistband of my shorts, his eyes locking onto mine as he tugged them down, taking my underwear with them. His eyes widened, almost as if he couldn’t believe the way I looked now. He hadn’t seen me like this since I was 18; I was 23 now. The years that had passed between us felt both like a lifetime and an instant as Nicholas’s gaze lingered on me.

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, his hands trembling slightly as they slid up my thighs. “You’re even more beautiful now, baby.”

I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling as his words washed over me. The way he looked at me — like he couldn’t believe I was real, like he couldn’t believe I was here — sent a rush of heat through me that had nothing to do with the alcohol still buzzing in my veins.

“You keep saying that,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“And I’ll say it again,” he murmured, leaning in to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to my inner thigh. “Every chance I get.”

His hands slid higher, gripping my hips as his lips moved closer, the heat of his breath sending shivers up my spine. I reached down, tangling my fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. His dark eyes met mine, the raw hunger there making my stomach clench, his lips quirking into a smirk that was both cocky and devastatingly sexy.

And then his mouth was on me.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through me so intense it made my toes curl. My head fell back against the cushions, a gasp escaping my lips as he worked me with a precision that left me breathless. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as his tongue teased and tasted, his stubble scratching against my skin in a way that only added to the fire coursing through me.

“Fuck, Nic,” I whimpered, my hands fisting in his hair as my hips bucked against his mouth.

His grip on my thighs tightened, pinning me firmly against the couch as he buried his face between my legs, his tongue moving with an urgency that made my entire body tremble. “Stay still,” he growled, his voice muffled but commanding. “Let me take care of you.”

The sound of his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I tried to obey, though every nerve in my body screamed for more. His tongue flicked over me in deliberate, agonizing strokes, his lips closing around the most sensitive part of me and sucking just hard enough to make my hips jerk.

“God, Nic, please,” I gasped, my voice high and breathless. I shook my head, curling my fingers around his short hair, “No. I need you inside me, Nic.”

Nicholas stilled for a moment, his dark eyes lifting to meet mine as his lips curled into a smirk, his chin and mouth glistening from his work. My chest was heaving, my body trembling under the weight of his gaze and the fire he’d already ignited within me.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through me as he pressed one last kiss to my thigh before sitting back on his heels. “Anything for you, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with heat.

Nicholas stood, his body towering over me as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it free in one swift motion. The clink of the metal and the soft rustle of fabric as he shucked off his slacks and boxers sent another rush of heat through me. My breath caught at the sight of him, every inch of him perfect, from the hard lines of his abs to the thighs the size of tree trunks to the sheer size of him, thick and ready.

“Goddamn, Nic,” I murmured, unable to tear my eyes away. He was beautiful, all sharp angles and raw power, and the way he looked at me, like he was about to devour me, made my pulse race.

“Eyes up here, baby,” he said, his tone laced with amusement as he stepped closer, gripping my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the couch.

My cheeks burned, but I met his gaze, the intensity in his dark eyes making it impossible to look away. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss as he positioned himself at my entrance. The heat of him against me sent a shiver down my spine, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. My hands cupped his face as I pulled him in for another kiss.

With one smooth thrust, he pushed inside me, filling me completely. I cried out, my head falling back as he stilled, giving me a moment to adjust. The stretch was perfect, just as it was all those years ago.

“Fuck, you’re better than heaven, baby,” he groaned, his forehead resting against mine as his hands gripped my hips. “Even better than I remember.”

I whimpered, my nails digging into his shoulders as I tried to catch my breath. “Fuck me,” I demanded, my voice shaky but firm. “Please, Nic. I need you to fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hips pulled back before thrusting forward again, setting a rhythm that was slow and deliberate at first, every movement calculated to drive me insane. But as the tension between us built, his pace quickened, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, until the sound of our bodies colliding echoed through the room.

“(Y/N),” he growled, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I was sure there would be bruises. “I was made for you, baby. Nobody else. Just you.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine, the raw intensity in his voice carving through every thought, every inhibition I had left. “Just me,” I whispered, my nails raking down his back as I clung to him, my body arching to meet each of his thrusts. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back as I let myself drown in him — the way he filled me, the way he consumed me, the way he owned me.

“Say it,” Nicholas demanded, his lips brushing against my ear as he buried himself inside me again, deeper this time, the stretch and fullness stealing the air from my lungs. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, the confession tumbling from my lips before I could stop it. The truth of it, the undeniable gravity of what he meant to me, hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me raw and exposed. “Always yours.”

“Shit,” he growled, his movements growing erratic as he pulled me impossibly closer, his hands gripping my thighs like he was afraid I’d disappear. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby. You’re in my fucking blood.”

I gasped, my voice trembling as he shifted, lifting one of my legs over his shoulder to hit even deeper. The angle made me cry out, my nails raking down his back as he pounded into me with a desperation that matched my own. “Oh, my God, right there—fuck, don’t stop!”

“Not a chance, baby,” he growled, his voice rough and full of promise. His dark eyes locked onto mine, his gaze so intense it made my head spin. “You’re mine, (Y/N). Always have been. Always fucking will be.”

My head fell back, a moan ripping from my throat as he hit a spot inside me that sent stars exploding behind my eyes. The tension in my stomach coiled tighter, every nerve ending on fire as he drove me closer and closer to the edge. 

“I’m so close,” I whimpered, my voice breaking as I clawed at his shoulders, desperate for release. “Nic, I—”

“Let go,” he urged, his voice low and commanding, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Come for me, baby. I wanna feel you.”

The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered, sent me spiraling. The tension snapped, pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but scream his name. My body trembled, every muscle tightening as the orgasm ripped through me, leaving me raw and undone.

“Jesus Christ,” Nicholas groaned, his grip on me tightening as my walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper. He thrust into me once, twice more, before his own release hit, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside me, filling me completely until it dripped and pooled around us.

The room fell silent except for the sound of our ragged breathing and the hum of the pool filter just outside, the heat of our bodies mingling as we clung to each other in the aftermath. Nicholas didn’t move, his arms wrapped tightly around me as though letting go wasn’t an option. My heart was pounding, each beat echoing in my ears as the weight of what just happened started to settle over me.

He pressed his forehead against mine, his breath still uneven as he whispered, “Fuck, (Y/N)… You wreck me.”

I let out a shaky laugh, my fingers tracing the muscles in his back, slick with sweat. “I think we just wrecked each other.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, vibrating through his chest. “I missed this,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “I missed you.”

My chest tightened at the raw honesty in his words, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. The truth was, I’d missed him too — every part of him, every look, every touch. But I wasn’t sure how to say that without unraveling completely.

Instead, I let my fingers trail up to his face, cupping his jaw as I tilted his head so I could meet his gaze. His dark brown eyes searched mine, the intensity there enough to make my pulse quicken all over again. “This can’t happen again,” I whispered, though even as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t true.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. But then he leaned down, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss so tender it made my heart ache. “We both know that’s a lie,” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding up my sides to cradle me against him. “Because the second I get another chance, I’m taking it.”

“Nic—” I started, but he silenced me with another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier, reigniting the fire between us.

“Let me stay here with you,” he murmured, his lips moving against mine as his hands explored my body again. “Just for tonight. No bullshit. No reality. Just us.”

His sincerity made my heart clench, but that obviously couldn’t happen. I cupped my hand in his face and kissed the apple of his cheek, “As much as I want to, you know I can’t. My mom is back in there drinking coffee with your mom and your fiancée. They’ll all know something’s going on.”

Nicholas let out a frustrated sigh, his forehead falling to rest against mine. His breath was warm, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my back as though he was trying to memorize me in the short time we had left.

“I know,” he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. “I hate that I can’t just keep you here. That I can’t—” He broke off, his hands tightening on my waist.

I smiled weakly, brushing my thumb across his cheek. “I don’t like it either.”

He leaned into my touch for a fleeting moment before stepping back, his hands trailing down my sides as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. The loss of his warmth made my chest ache, but I forced myself to focus on the bigger picture. On the consequences.

Nicholas raked a hand through his messy hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. “This isn’t over,” he said finally, his voice firm despite the heaviness in the room. “You and me, baby. We’re not over.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I nodded. “I know.”

His lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile, and for a moment, we just stood there, the air between us charged with everything we couldn’t say. Finally, Nicholas reached for his discarded shirt, pulling it on with a kind of resignation that made my chest tighten all over again.

“I’ll go out first,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “You wait a few minutes, then head back.”

I nodded, watching as he buttoned his shirt and slipped into his briefs and slacks with steady hands, though his dark eyes kept flicking back to me like he couldn’t quite look away. When he was finished, he paused, his fingers lingering on the zipper as he took a deep breath.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

I looked up at him, my heart pounding as his gaze locked onto mine.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer and cupping my face in his hands. “This isn’t the end. I don’t care how fucked up everything is right now — I’ll figure it out. I’ll fix it. Just… don’t give up on me. On us.”

I blinked, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest. “Nic…”

“Promise me,” he urged, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “Promise me you won’t give up.”

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding, my voice barely a whisper. “I promise.”

The relief that washed over his face was almost enough to break me, but before I could dwell on it, he leaned down, pressing one last kiss to my lips. It was slow and lingering, filled with a desperation that made my heart ache.

When he pulled away, his dark eyes lingered on mine for a beat longer before he turned and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, glancing back at me one last time.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, his voice low and full of promise.

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him and leaving me alone with the echoes of his words and the weight of what we’d just done.

The silence of the pool house pressed down on me like a heavy blanket, the faint hum of the pool filter outside the only sound breaking through the quiet. My legs felt weak, my body trembling as I stood there, staring at the door he’d just walked through.

The faint scent of him lingered in the room — woodsy cologne mixed with sweat and desire — and it wrapped around me, pulling me back into the moment we’d just shared. I shook my head, trying to clear it, to push the memory to the back of my mind.

I pulled on my discarded clothes with shaking hands, the fabric sticking to my damp skin. Each movement felt heavier, slower, like my body was resisting the return to reality. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my uniform, and I let out a frustrated sigh, finally managing to pull it up.

I closed my eyes, my head falling into my hands as a wave of guilt and longing washed over me. I shouldn’t have promised him anything. I shouldn’t have let him kiss me, touch me, pull me back into his orbit. But God help me, I didn’t know how to resist him. I never had.

The sound of laughter drifted in from the main house, sharp and distant, a reminder of the world waiting for me beyond the walls of the pool house. I needed to pull myself together, to put on a brave face and pretend like nothing had happened.

Rising to my feet, I adjusted my clothes, smoothing down my dress and running my fingers through my hair in a half-hearted attempt to fix the damage. My reflection in the glass of the pool house door caught my eye, and I froze, staring at the woman looking back at me.

She looked like a stranger — her cheeks flushed, her eyes too bright, her lips swollen from kisses that shouldn’t have happened. A part of me hated her for being so weak, so reckless. But another part, a quieter, more dangerous part, understood her too well. She was me. And no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I wasn’t done with Nicholas Chavez. Not yet.

I sighed, forcing my gaze away from the reflection and toward the glowing lights of the main house in the distance. Each step back felt heavier than the last, the weight of my choices pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

When I reached the patio, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses grew louder, the warm glow of the house spilling out into the cool night. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the handle of the French door, my heart pounding in my chest. I can do this.

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself before pushing the door open. The hum of conversation greeted me, a stark contrast to the silence of the pool house. I slipped inside, my head down, hoping to blend into the crowd unnoticed.

“(Y/N)!” My mother’s voice rang out, bright and cheery. “There you are, sweetie. We were just about to send Paolo to look for you.”

I plastered on a smile, forcing my voice to sound steady as I replied, “Just needed some air. Ready to go home?”

My mom tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she scanned my face. “You’ve been outside all this time? You’re flushed, honey.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, brushing a stray hair out of my face. “It’s just the wine. And maybe the fireplace — it’s blazing in here.”

She didn’t look convinced, but before she could press the issue, Paolo chimed in. “We’re all ready when you are, cara mia.” His warm smile felt like a lifeline, grounding me in the present. “Maria’s already gathering her things.”

“Perfect,” I said, returning his smile, though it felt thin, strained. I turned toward the lounge, catching sight of Maria chatting animatedly with one of the other guests. She glanced up as I approached, her eyes brightening.

“Are we leaving?” Maria asked, her expression shifting into a polite but eager readiness. “I think I’ve charmed enough people for one evening.”

I laughed lightly, nodding. “Let’s head out before they ask for your secrets.”

As we moved toward the door, I felt Nicholas’s gaze on me before I saw him. He was standing near his fiancée as she spoke to another guest, his arms carefully clasped behind him as if he didn’t want to touch her, as if I spoiled him from ever wanting to touch her again, even to keep up appearances.

His dark eyes tracked my every movement, a storm brewing beneath the surface that only I could see. My chest tightened, and I forced myself to look away, focusing on the cool night air beckoning just beyond the door.

“Let me get the car,” Paolo said, his hand brushing lightly against my arm. His tone was warm and reassuring, grounding me in a way I desperately needed.

Maria and my mom moved ahead, chatting softly as they walked out onto the driveway. I lingered just inside the door, caught in the magnetic pull of Nicholas’s gaze.

I glanced back, my resolve weakening as our eyes locked again. He wasn’t trying to hide it anymore — the longing, the frustration, the unspoken words that hung heavy between us. It was written all over his face, plain as day. His fiancée turned slightly, her hand brushing his arm as she laughed at something the older man beside her said. Nicholas didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as glance at her.

All of him was focused on me.

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as I turned and followed my mom and Maria outside. The night air hit me like a slap, cool and sharp against my flushed skin. I could hear the low rumble of Paolo’s car engine as it pulled up to the curb.

“Come on, sweetheart,” my mom called, her voice cutting through the haze of emotions clouding my mind. 

I forced a smile, slipping into the backseat beside her. Maria climbed into the passenger seat, her laughter carrying over as Paolo started the car. I leaned my head back against the seat, staring out the window as the estate grew smaller and smaller behind us.

But no matter how far we drove, I couldn’t shake the weight of Nicholas’s gaze, the echo of his voice, or the promise lingering in the air between us.

[princesssmars]

winter wonders.

some abby anderson thoughts tied to holly jolly!

wc : 2.342

contains : fluff. wlw relationship. some nsfw i mean its me. oral sex r!receiving. mentions of past abby and owen. college hockey abby and skier reader again.

a/n : this scenario has infested my brain i wont move on! and its embarrassing how i started this in febuary but its december again soooo a+ procrastination?

palestine : tlou2 + palestine , how to help <3 enjoy!

abby is such a lover girl and she shows it constantly. i showed it in the full fic but one of the sweetest ways she shows affection is feeding people and taking care of their wellbeing.

text her that you're exhausted after class? she's making a quick meal and giving you cuddles on the couch. if anything is bothering you she is doing whatever she can to make it better.

and as much as abs loveees to take care of you, to the point where you think it's ingrained into her very being, she also loves to be babied and taken care of! the first time you sew her a stocking for christmas when you were snowed in at the dorms she cried for an hour.

i just know she loves it when you're physically affectionate as well. she finds it so charming and silly how when she tries to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek in a cafe you'll jerk back like you've been burned, not wanting to be seen as a sap, but behind closed doors you're alll over her.

pressing gentle kisses to her fingertips when you're both reading before bed. gently massaging her thighs after she went too hard at practice or in the rink. once you two had been invited to a movie night with the crew, and after she volunteered to make the popcorn she came into the living room to see no spots left. she was prepared to take her spot on the floor, but you had gotten one of the three couches to yourself because of your own leg injury on the slopes. before she could even crouch you tugged her over to you, her waist between your legs as you held her from behind. jordan was probably calling her whipped for how she melted into you, eyes fluttering as you brushed your fingers through her hair. she didn't really care. for now.

feel like she tries so hard to maintain good communication in all of her relationships. she's had friendships crack and break because of rumors and miscommunication and she wants to keep everyone she's close to around for a long time. she tells you once she learned it because of family therapy she did when her dad adopted her siblings yara and lev, who you sadly missed during your shared thanksgiving. you think it's adorable how she shows so much love for her family, constantly talking in her family group chat and sharing stories about her day with her little sister and brother.

didn't delve too much into it but being abby's new years eve kiss... she takes it very seriously. if you have to use the bathroom you better hold it because she is gonna bring in this new chapter of her life and she wants you to be there as long and as closely as you can be <3333

and you just know she is so so so good on valentines. yes she does get your flowers delivered while you're out and about during class or at your part-time. probably has a corny little card attached saying 'snow secret ice crazy about you'. almost so cute it makes you want to vomit. in a cute way!

if you want to go all out? say no more. she is booking you an entire day of romantic activities and spoiling you to your heart's content. but all i can imagine is having a nice and intimate dinner in a cozy little restaurant. cuddled up inside the booth as she admires you like you're an angel that's come into her life.

get her some chocolate-covered strawberries and she will swoon. but get both of you custom engraved bracelets with your initials? you aren't leaving the house for a week. have fun.

so not being original here but i def feel like abby is studying medicine. maybe not neuroscience like her dad, her hands aren't the best after so many hits and falls on the ice. but i love the headcanon of her going into the subfields of muscles or sports medicine. maybe even pediatrics because we all know she'd be the best with kids. she wants to pursue hockey full time, but she won't let it get in the way of her academics.

speaking of kids...

abby always says she's known since your first date she was gonna marry you. you would always roll your eyes and tell her to shush with a barely contained smile, but you both know a part of her isn't joking. there aren't words i can think of to say how in love she is with you, someone so similar but so different that she gets excited just at the thought of growing older together with.

she doesn't think there will ever be a dull day when she sees you. she'd take every mood swing, every petty fight, and every bit of insecurity if it meant she could just wake up and see you every morning. but she knows it's early, you're both still young and haven't ever started your careers yet. on your birthday, after taking you to a beautifully planned surprise party, she stands you in front of your mirror and presents you with your gift. its a necklace, simple yet intricate with two interloping hearts. you don't say anything, and she doesn't say anything, but your hearts swell and she hugs you tightly from behind.

once she makes sure you're okay with holiday activities trust she will keep the two of you busy all of december. she runs over her and mannys christmas decorations like a soldier, trust she will be up to date on any new trending decor items that pop up in the nearest hobby lobby or home goods store. she would absolutely love to go to a winter market and buy some gifts for her family and friends, picking up and admiring any little vintage trinket she can find.

and i just now she’s a christmas movie fanatic. dedicates a whole weekend in december for the two of you (or the whole group!) to get some hot chocolate, bundle up under the covers and watch holiday themed movies until you can’t take it anymore.

(feel like she’d be such a traditionalist about it though. it takes a heap of convincing from you and manny to let her put die hard in the movie rotation.)

but abby can be such a chill (haha) person. when you first met her you thought she was a cocky piece of shit, but over time she showed you how understanding and calm she could be. she doesn't like getting angry at people during the day, preferring to let out her anger during hockey games. but trust if someone is being a dick to one of her friends or you, she will put them in their place.

after

she is really good at ice skating. which sounds silly because duh, she plays hockey. but one day you watch a youtube video about figure skaters switching places with hockey players and you ask her to see if she could do some of the moves. she's a big girl but also insanely quick, and when she does a lutz on the first try you're more than shocked.

but also not! because abby is nothing but persistent. which is why when she asked you to teach her how to ski you thought any higher power up there was laughing at and testing you. at that point it had been months since you restarted your training with your father. it was hard, balancing your life with working out and spending hours every week practicing on the local fake slopes, but it was thrilling to be doing it because you wanted to do it. and thankfully your injury was basically gone.

(although sometimes you would fake like it was paining you so abby would set you on the bed and massage and take care of you. but who wouldn't do that?)

but when abby asked you to teach her you were nervous. not because you doubt your ability, hell no, just the opposite. nora had come along to one of your sessions, and when a young fan came up to you to ask for tips, all a tired and overworked you could say was "just be good at it." ever since she had teased you, throwing the worst joke you'd ever heard and saying you were going to turn into your dad. you didn’t talk to her for four days after that.

but you decide to give your girlfriend a chance. you warn her ahead of time that because of your dads teaching style growing up, you wouldn’t be too perceptive, and her size might make her momentum gain too quickly. but again, your girl was nothing if not persistent, listening to your words and placing a kiss on your cheek with an “i got this.”

she did not. she did at first, easing down the short slope with the caution of a giant baby deer, and doing a victory pump the first time she made it down the bunny slope while nearly tripping. things were good!

until jordan, sweet, stupid jordan made some bet that abby couldn’t ski down the intermediate slope for a video to send to her teammates. and like a moth to a flame, she got up the slope as fast as she could and tried her very best, before falling on her face halfway through. she wasn’t too badly hurt, laughing at the way you fussed over the small cut on her cheek.

this wasn’t the first time you witnessed some of abby's athletic determination. you wouldn't lie and say it hadn't afflicted you sometimes, able to recall the multiple times you and your girlfriend had made bets about who could do the most reps in the gym or run up the stairs quicker. it was all sunshine and rainbows until one misplaced pencil on some stairs led to you tripping into her and the both of you landing in a heap of limbs at the bottom of the stairs. you are more than glad that no one else was in the hall at that time.

not to say her over-achieving nature was all bad. there were definitely quite a few times that her aggressive behavior on the ice when her teammates showed premature defeat for an opposing team made you a little hot and bothered in your seat, eyes tracked on her body as she pushed past opponents like a bullet train.

and it is more than helpful in bed. one weekend you’d returned to your own apartment in a shitty mood from classes and skiing problems, ready to just eat some junk and rest in bed for two days straight. but of course, as soon as you texted your plans to your girlfriend she was over at your place in not even fifteen minutes. she had plenty of snacks and your favorite sweatshirt of hers to wear. but she could tell after a while into watching a movie you were still in a pissy mood, so she decided to help you relax in another way.

unfortunately, your sour mood was too strong as you’d yet to reach your peak after twenty minutes with abby in between your legs. it really was a shame, she looked so pretty when she was concentrated down there. you gently push at her forehead and lament that it’s no use, you're somehow too aggravated to have an orgasm.

your palm gently pushes at her forehead until she’s hovering over your cunt, a slight tingle running up your body when you see her blissed-out face and slick-covered mouth.

“abs, it’s just not gonna happen tonight. I'm way too stressed out.”

her eyes scan your face before her brows do that thing - the furrow she does when she gets an idea in her head that she just has to see through.

“just let me try for a little while longer, okay baby?”

and god, you couldn't say no to her when she looked like that and you were so pent up. you give her a small nod and watch as she rushes off the bed to the bottom of your bedstand to grab an old vibrator deep in one of the drawers.

“how’d you know where i hid that?” your voice is breathless as you watch her resettle back between your legs, turning on the vibe with a small smile on her face.

“because i know you. besides, need to know where to get things in case of emergency.”

you were going to laugh but then she’s immediately attaching the vibrator to your clit at the highest setting, a strong hand holding down your hips that buck up into the sensation and gripping your waist when you try to run from it.

let's just say when the night ends you are officially destressed.

uhhh back to. winter!

really think she’s in her element during this season. she’s in the huddle of her hockey season, gets to wear all of her favorite sweatshirts and hoodies and take long walks through the city as the snow ghosts over her face.

and just like i said earlier once she realizes you’re okay with the festive stuff? get ready for winter-themed dates.

one of your new favorite memories with her is definitely sitting on a plush blanket on the floor near her balcony door, the gentle downpour of snow a backdrop to your mini picnic date as you make s’mores and treats with an electric tabletop and share stories and kisses with wine-stained lips <3

abrupt ending but im trying to finish off things just lying in my drafts lolll uhh happy holidays yippee!

[nenoname]

Journal 3’s references to Stan

(…does the Lost Pages count as J3 when some had to be in J2 and also may or may not be a truth lie turducken? idk. Ford’s TBoB letters sure as hell don’t count as J3 but I’m including them here anyway)

Lost Journal Pages

"STANLEY COULD HAVE MADE HER LAUGH"

“My stomach sank a bit when I realized… it was my birthday. This day has felt… odd, since S and I… parted ways.”

"I was adjusting my TV antennae for weather reports (looking for ideal conditions for F's first portal test) and spat out my coffee when I saw THIS! My brother hawking scams under the name "Panley Stines." I had half a mind to call that number, just to pretend to be the police and maybe scare S straight for once! There is something so galling about seeing your OWN FACE committing crimes on your own TV! When my Muse saw me break my stress ball, I decided it was finally time to vent about Stanley."

""How about that; you've got an inferior clone! Why didn't you just eat him in the womb? Think of how powerful you'd be!"

"You can't just eat your twin, Bill."

You'd be surprised what you can eat! I say sure, call him if you want him to start mooching off you again! ME, I went no contact with my home dimension and I don't regret it. All they did was hold me back and sabotage my talents! Can you imagine?"

"More than you know. But you do ever wonder if maybe... maybe things could have been different?""

"Our heat budget was so tight that Mom forced S and me to wear one sweater at the same time. (She called it the "Abominable Snow-Stan." Our cat lived in fear of it year-round.)"

“DAMN! This morning I found F rummaging through my old copy of Urban Legends of New Jersey, where I had forgotten I had hidden some old personal items! I’ve quickly re-hidden them here, away from prying eyes.”

"But then he crossed a line. Helplessly I watched Cipher in my own body limp up to a pay phone and dial... STANLEY'S phone number from the infomercial?! No. He wouldn't.

"Hey brother, it's Sixer. I'm going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don't hear from me, I just want you to know that it's because I never loved you. BUH-BYEEEEE."

My heart was in my throat until I heard the dial tone... The pay phone was out of order. The message hadn't gotten through. Cipher turned back to address me.

"TSK, TSK, TSK. LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME MAKE YOU DO! TOMORROW'S TAPE IS GONNA BE MUCH WORSE.""

(Bro secret code) "miss you"

“The snow has begun to fall again and there’s very little time. There’s only one left I can turn to to protect my journals while I prepare for the journey…”

"S is an overgrown child with none of my rigorous mental training. Who knows what could happen if Cipher stepped inside Stanley's mind for even one minute...

What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal just like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine? I suppose that machine did work in its own way... It kept me perpetually angry for thirty years."

(Bro secret code) "HAVE I BEEN TOO HARSH ALL ALONG?"

"What if he tries to rope me into his latest get-rich-quick scheme? His latest commercial was for "Stan Sauce: The Miracle Sauce that's too cool for the FDA!"

What if... he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness? Could I risk admitting that I was... wrong?

PROS: I have no one else. Well, that settles it. It's time to come face-to-face with a face I haven't seen in 10 years. My own face. Which... is my brother's face. God, I miss sleep."

Ford’s Letters

"In the weeks since Weirdmageddon, I conducted numerous tests on Stanley's mind (his terrible jokes are still intact) and inspected the state for dimensional leakage (we also took turns kicking the statue, and Stanley took a few cracks with a crowbar). I burned every Cipher-shaped item I had ever collected, and even threw away all my one-dollar bills, just to be safe (Stanley, of course, found and pocketed them).

“I emerged from my lab after days of agonized contemplation to find- to my shock- that Mabel was reading the book, out loud, to Stanley, Dipper, Soos, and Wendy!”

“They didn’t see me as an irredeemable screwup. Stanley said, "So, your past is just a giant pile of mistakes? Congratulations- you really are a Pines!”“

"Bill may tell you that happiness requires conquering galaxies and living forever, but I've seen enough of the universe to tell you that he's wrong. I've found my happiness. And it looks like this:"

"If you're reading this... then I am dead. Kidding! Sorry, Stanley thought that would be funny. Ha-ha! We're currently out shopping for harpoons to prepare for our trip to the arctic."

"Stan, if you end breaking into my lab at some point later today- Bravo! Still as good a locksmith as in 8th grade. Beers are under the desk."

(It kinda strikes me that the BoB Lost Journal pages about Stan sound far more like post-portal Ford’s opinions on Stan instead, where he’s openly angry at both being pushed into the portal + at the portal being opened again + his murder suicide attempt being foiled + Stan disowning him + turning his house into a tourist trap + taking his identity vs pre-portal Ford being more… melodramatic(?) constantly being reminded of him but not wanting to linger too long? idk the vibes are different

Plus pre-portal Ford pretty consistently only calls Stan "S” or just refers to him as his brother (with the exception of him writing his name in a Caesar cipher). I think he only ever messes up the general naming scheme a single time when he wrote Fiddleford instead of F

…not to mention the perpetual motion machine comment says thirty instead of ten years)

Other sections: Pre-Portal, Post-Portal, Post-Weirdmageddon

[randomshyperson]

Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together. 

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around. 

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.” 

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army. 

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms. 

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.” 

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better. 

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you. 

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[skay-ali]

The forgotten daughter

Pain, you felt a lot of pain... Your whole body was hating you at this moment, perhaps the bad karma of your entire short life was taking its toll.

You were trying to get air and more strength, you had to follow the nurses' orders.

You hated this, the pain didn't stop, it became less and less bearable. You wanted to numb your entire body and pain, like you did before, when you went to any party and let yourself be carried away by it, taking whatever appeared in front of you, to no longer feel pain, to forget that you were alone...

But now, when all your pain stopped, when loud whimpers sounded in your ears.

At the moment the nurses placed a new being, bathed in a liquid and other things, a being that accompanied you for almost a year in your solitude, the small ray of light that rested peacefully in your arms, as if you were the only thing in the world. world that this little being needed.

You cried, not because of pain, you had already done it a lot, not now you did it because you had someone in your life, someone who would always need you, a little person who would never ignore you, who would not leave you because you are not relevant in his life, you knew she would love you, now you had a family.

You were right, it was the first time you did it.

Your little baby, the ray of light that illuminated your world full of lack of control and emptiness, was the same one that did not let you leave his side for any moment, who looked at you with eyes full of adoration, for a long time until you fell exhausted in the world of dreams.

Today was one of those days, where nothing special happened in your life but still, you saw it as one of the best you ever lived, even if it was just you and your little baby in a lonely house, it was wonderful.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing sweetly, your baby smiled every time you talked to her and had your eyes on her, she moved one of her toys with her little hands, lying in her crib.

You didn't expect things to change in a big way that day.

First a knock on the door... and suddenly.

A man you haven't seen in a while, a great friend of yours, your family... he came back still with a haggard appearance and lifeless eyes.

You took him inside your house quickly, you began to care for him the best you could, if he continued on that path he could reach his end.

You gave him food and tried to make him rest, but he could only watch the baby sleeping in the crib, his gaze stopped for a moment on your little daughter's toy, a teddy bear that looked like a little cow.

“that's not…”

“Yes, it's Alicia's toy... she gave it to me one day as a gift for the baby.” You sat down next to him.

"ahhh.. always kind and selfless with her actions... even if that was the only thing she had left as a memory of our parents" the voice of the low-level man, it no longer had much power, it became weak.

“If she was always like this… you know she was the most excited about my pregnancy” a weak smile appeared on your lips.

“yes... even if you don't believe it deep down inside her, she wanted to get married and start her own family…. But now” he stopped, some tears ran down his eyes, after that he couldn't stop..

You didn't either, you also missed your best friend, the girl with whom you always shared secrets, with whom you did the craziest actions and the girl to whom you could tell all your feelings without her judging you.

You saw him cry, sitting next to him you hugged him trying to comfort him... with some tears in your eyes.

You knew that pain, you felt it when you thought your younger brother had died, but it was different, he would no longer see his sister breathing again and living again, he only had a grave to remember her.

“___... ___ … I can't continue like this” you agreed with his words, you ran your arms along his back trying to support him.

“I must avenge her... I must make sure her death is not for nothing, I will make them suffer like I did” you stopped your hand, that... that was not what you were thinking.

“no..hey..I don't think so”

“You may not like the idea, but listen to me…” the boy looked into your eyes, even if they were red.

“I was lost since her funeral, alone even though you all tried to be with me, full of anger, but seeing your Christmas letter with the picture of little Alice... I... I couldn't stop thinking what if something bad happened but this time with you, or with your little daughter, whom Alicia adored even before she was born” the small conversation full of sadness ended, starting with something deeper, it scared you to think about the point that the man next to you wanted to get to.

"Evil will always be surrounding us, we can't do anything... but we can prevent people from committing acts of evil." His melancholic state changed, a more determined voice came out of him.

“stop... don't even continue... what you're going to say isn't good” even with your hands tangling your hair, trying to calm yourself down, it was impossible.

“We must put an end to the villains.”

You sighed, even if you hadn't exercised, nor did you have a feeling of illness... you were still tired.

Seeing not only one man, but another sitting at your table... it was exhausting... you were just lost in your thoughts, while they talked about their new ideals with great interest.

You didn't trust what they said, it was dangerous, plus your morals would be at stake, you would hurt innocent people... you didn't want to do that, since you can remember you have been a coward, you would never stop being one.

“I don't think we should do this” you looked up at the men, they left their conversation behind just to listen to what you were saying.

“Come on___, this is something big, we will get rid of the criminals who have done nothing but take away our happiness, not only that we will stop living in fear that in a moment a crazy psychopath will threaten us or our loved ones, even if It's just one of their silly cat and mouse games with a hero” the new man who arrived at your house a few hours later, the man who also lost his beloved to a psychopath.

“He's right, we have something in our hands that will improve humanity once and for all, without the heroes showing up and claiming to be saving us.” Alicia's brother Nick defended the plan they were trying to get you to accept.

"Also, most of the time the heroes are as guilty as the villains, with their games for not getting rid of their threat from the beginning, they are guilty for creating villains and don't make me mention how they bring their enemies to the cities in Instead of solving it in their own homes, it is not fair that we are dragged along by their problems as well.”

The speech, that left you thinking, even when the men left, they left a card for you, a number and address.

You thought about the possibilities of doing it, joining them, over and over again you considered it, it was time to put things in order, but their plans were not exactly something you agreed with.

Hurting people, taking their lives from them, for their crimes, that was not fair, no one should judge that, you thought more about seeing them suffer, rot in one place until their last breath.

That was never possible, they always found a way to escape their sentence, to create chaos again.

It was supposed to be a happy day, you were supposed to be enjoying your daughter, dressing her in the most beautiful clothes you could find, singing her lullabies or telling her a story, although you knew very well that she couldn't understand you, you liked doing it, playing with your baby's toys, while she looked at you with her big eyes and smiled when you looked at her, use the television as background noise to liven up the atmosphere a little.

There was great happiness around you, but a small feeling invaded you until it became impossible, you were not enough, you did not deserve what you were experiencing, you had not done much to deserve it, they would take it away from you at some point, in front of your eyes, You would suffer a lot, again, just like when your mother left.

The woman who said she loved you, but left you, you were afraid that you would do the same with your daughter, leave her and make her suffer, that she would spend a life full of loneliness.

Soledad, you felt that, again, how stupid you were, how could you feel it when you had your dear daughter by your side, were you a bad person? If you were, you have always known, you don't deserve anything you have now, that's why your children were miserable.

No.. it wasn't miserable, in fact, you were lucky, you were just a spoiled child throwing a tantrum.

And now you cry, you shed tears like an innocent soul, what a bad person you were, crying in front of a baby, just for your life, one that was better than most children in almost all parts of the world.

You were disgusted.

You were scared, scared that everything would end, you deserved to be alone, but just thinking about it scared you.

You took the card.

After thinking about it very carefully, after leading a life in a spiral, you were no longer going to continue like this, you were going to change it and everything around you too.

“Hello guys... I've thought about it and I'm in.” Your tone of confidence was evident, your voice did not waver or tremble, you were going to do it, you would change your life.

“First introduce yourself” a serious voice surrounded you.

You were a little restless, the room you were in was cold, the disturbing synods of the machines upset you, the devices you had on were also uncomfortable.

“My name is ___” you said a few minutes later.

“Why are you here?”

“Are you seriously going to ask these unnecessary questions” you questioned the man who was on the other side of the room, using a speaker to communicate.

“It is necessary, part of the procedure, so that it is recorded that you are giving your consent” You sighed when you heard it, you don't know if you're doing the right thing, what if something bad happens... on the other hand, if this helps you improve, you'll do it, you can't continue in such a self-destructive spiral, harming yourself and your daughter.

And if by the way, if your idea worked, you would help the world improve, without the ideas of genocide of all criminals.

“Hey, I'm serious, I don't want lawsuits” It was good that in a serious moment they took a moment to joke.

“I am patient 01 and I will erase my memory” you looked at the camera in front of you, without showing any emotion.

But it wasn't enough, because the two men were still looking at you, waiting for you to continue talking.

“I want to erase all my self-destructive and sad thoughts that don't let me continue with my life…” you hesitated, you had to say everything you would erase from your head, or just a small introduction.

“continue” you no longer care about who was talking to you.

Everything you wanted to get rid of in your head came to the surface.

“everything since I was little, and I was afraid of everyone and the things that happened, the death of my mother... when I saw her leaving, abandoning me, her eyes losing their last traces of light when I entered that room” you needed carry a calm attitude, instead of getting upset, what kind of presentation would you give to the camera, you still hadn't started to say everything and you no longer had the strength to continue.

"forget the boy, who I considered my brother until he broke his promise, how he came back, but never for me, I forget... my whole family and what I experienced with them, their looks as if I never existed, I was never recognized as his sister and daughter, seeing all those women parade through my home, receiving more attention than I ever received from my father, those feelings of not being enough, even more so when my father confessed that he never saw me as his daughter, I was just a Little girl looking for love and I found my father's ear.”

“It was her mistake, it was her mistake that I existed, and dad could never take responsibility, I did, I stayed with my little mistake, who I love, I love her with great madness, I would do anything for her, I think That's why I'm in this place."

“I call him dad, most of the time I did and he never called me his daughter.”

“so I want to forget my depressive mother, my father's family, aaahhh and that man I knew” a small smile left your lips when you remembered him “Alice's father, please delete him” your voice became dark at the end, you couldn't anymore endure it, you cried, you let your tears fall and be caught on camera.

“You forgot your name, I need you to say it in full.”

“____.... ___ Wayne” you sobbed even as you spoke.

The recording ended, leaving the room silent.

"Well, you already met the mastermind behind everything and the first patient of our Alice or Wonderland project." The man who was still being interrogated interrupted the thoughts of all the heroes and their assistants who were present.

Many glances went towards a stoic-looking man in the middle of the room, who only saw the black screen.

Bruce didn't know how to react to such news, it was like a bucket of water, how come he had ruined it so much with you.

He had hurt you, he was the villain in your life, he couldn't handle that.

And now that it was yours, you became a woman involved in a big crime, you were also alone, you always seemed weak to him, now that was against him, what would you do to protect yourself in such a chaotic world, he couldn't even imagine that something bad is happening to you.

He needed to find you and repair what he did.

I'm sorry if there are errors in the use of he, she, and other pronouns.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

[footballfanficwriter]

Spill the tea

Summary:where Jude is invested in girl drama

"Hello?"

"Hey girl, I've got hot tea for you"

"Yeah, spill it I'm listening"

I'm on a call with Ashley my Best friend who tells me everything, well we tell eachother everything, Ashley and I have been friends for the longest time, we grew up together and she was always there for me way before I even met Jude

"Ok so I just found out that Hannah is pregnant"

"What?"

"But the plot thickens, remember the boyfriend she said she was dating?"

"Yeah?"

"Well turns out he's not the father"

"If it's not him then whose the father?"

Jude walks into the house from  training and he waves at me, I wave back at him

"It turns out that Hannah was having an Affair" Ashley says

"An Affair with who"

I see Jude turn his head towards me like my sentence has just peaked his interest and he walks to where I'm sat in the sofa and sits next to me watching me with interest

"The Gardner"

"The Gardner?"

Jude grabs my phone from my ear and puts the phone on speaker

"Whose having an affair with the Gardner?" He asks

"Hey Jude"

"Hey Ash, how are you?"

"I'm good, how are you"

"I'm good,so whose having an Affair with the Gardner"

"Hannah"

"But wasn't she with that other boyfriend of hers that she was bragging about?" Jude asks

"Yeah she was, I guess she was cheating on him"

"But, he was such a good guy"

"I know right"

"But there's more tea to be spilled"

"What Is it"

"Alice"

"I swear there's always something happening in Alice's life" I say

"Alice decided that it was a good idea to get surgery, and because she didn't have the budget for it, she went to a makeshift surgeon, and it did not come out proper, it just looks weird honestly"

"Do you have a picture?"  I ask

"Yeah, hang on I'll send it just now"

Ash sends the picture and Jude and I look at it weirdly

"What has she done" he asks

"I'm speechless"

"I don't know whether to laugh or to cry" Jude says

"Why are her lips like that"

"Who ever did this to her needs to be arrested" Jude says

"Where is she now?" I ask

"At her house, she hasn't left eversince"

"Maybe we should check on her you know, see if she's doing fine" I say

"Yeah we should, we'll do it later"

"I'll make her something to try and make her feel better"

"Oh I just got am update on Hannah's situation"

"Turns out the Gardner is actually dating Haley, and he proposed to her"

"He proposed?" Jude asked

"So how are they going to work it out are they going to be one big polygamy Family"

"Even if the do that how is he going to afford to have a baby and have a wedding, knowing Haley she's definitely going to want a big extravagant wedding and she doesn't like sharing, so how is she going to share a husband with someone else?"

"What I don't get is how you're going to cheat on a person, then propose to the same person you cheated on, like do you know how much of a negative impact you have on a person"

"But Hannah is also in the wrong, she cheated on her boyfriend and went for Haley's then boyfriend and got pregnant by him, like that messed up, on top of that they are bestfriends" Jude says

"Ash you know I love you, but i could never be a sister wife with you, with anyone for a matter of fact"

"Don't worry, you're into footballers and I'm into NBA Stars totally different sport"

"Oh I forgot to tell you that Julia is moving" I say

"Julia is moving" They both ask

"Yeah she's moving back to France"

"Why?

"Something about being caught with the boss"

"She was caught with the boss"

"Well they weren't really keeping their affair a secret, they held hands in the office and they'd flirt in front of people, it was just a matter of time"

"But the boss?"

"Yup"

"Isn't she Lesbian?" Jude asks

"She's Lesbian?" I ask

"Isn't she in a relationship?" Ash asks

"She's in a relationship?" Jude and I ask at the same time

"That's crazy you know"

"It's insane actually"

"But hey you know what these aren't our lives and who are we to judge and Comment on other people's lives"

"True"

"So we'll meet in 2 hours to go and check on Alice?"

"Yeah, see you then"

I hang the phone up and look at Jude

"Let me go get ready I wanna see her myself"

"Jude when we get there please try to compose yourself until we get back home"

"Until we get back home?, I'll compose myself until we get into the car and drive off"

"Fine but if you can't keep your side if the bargain, I'll be very upset"

"Ok fine"

2 hours later

There's a knock

I walk to the door to reveal Ash

"Hey babe"

"Hey, you ready to go ?"

"Yup, just waiting for Jude"

"Ok, so what did you make Alice"

"Soup, cause you know I figured that she wouldn't be able to eat a lot of things that are solid"

"Yeah"

Jude walks down the stairs and greets Ash

Ash decides to ride in her own car on our way to Alice's house

When we arrive there I knock on the door and after a few seconds later the door opens revealing Alice

I turn to Jude and watch his eyes grow bigger, I then turn back to Alice

"Hey Alice we heard you weren't feeling well, so we thought we might check on you see how you're doing"

"Yeah, we heard what happened" Ash says

"Come in please"

"So how have you been" Jude asks

"Is it bad like really bad can you see I got my face done"

"No, it's not that bad, your lips just look more plumb" I say

I hear Jude clear his throat next to him

"I just can't stop looking in the mirror" she says crying

"Oh sweetie don't so that to yourself, I'm sure it will get better, don't bring yourself down like that" Ashley says

"Yeah Ashley is right I didn't even notice it until you brought it up" Jude says

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's right c'mon you must be hungry Y/n made soup for you I'll plate it up for you" Ash says taking the big bowl of soup from my hands and leading Alice to the Kitchen

"What are you doing" I ask him

"What, I thought we were telling her lies to make her feel better" he says

"Jude stop ok"

"But I haven't laughed ever since we got here, though it may be difficult not to I still haven't"

"Fine just stop with the side expressions and stuff"

"Oh c'mon you're going to stand there and pretend that all of this is not funny"

"Unlike you I know how to compose myself and keep my laughter in, and plus we're in her house how rude would it be if we just came in and laughed at her face"

He smiles a little almost like he's trying not to laugh

I sigh

"I give up on you"

We stay with Alice for 3 more hours until we announce that we have to go but Ash opts to stay with Alice until she's better and we promise to occasionally visit

As soon as we enter the car He laughs his ass off

"Let's not even talk about the lips did you see the eyebrows, she can't even lift her eyebrows"

"Wait until we get home"

"I'm not waiting until we get home I'm talking now"

"Jude"

"C'mon, it's not like she can hear me"

"Fine"

"Did you see the nose, it's like this" he says laughing and making the shape of her nose in the air

As much as I don't want to laugh at Alice Jude is not making it any easier not to so I just chuckle

"Her lips are like this, babe look" he says making his lips plump by squishing them together using his hands

I laugh at his comment and the rest if the way Jude and I are talking about Alice and all the things that could have forced her to do this to herself

The rest of the day is spent hanging out and Jude and i making dinner for ourselves then watching a movie then bed

As I'm changing into my Pajamas Jude speaks up

"Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"On a serious note though, l love you just the way you are"

I raise my eyebrow wondering where all of this came from

"Ok, why are you being weird"

"I'm not I'm just saying if you ever decide to get plastic surgery or a face lift, whatever it is, Just know that I love your body just the way it is and I don't want you to be pressured or feel like it's your obligation to make yourself look younger or have more curves or to look a certain way when you're with me"

"Aww, Jude Babe thank you so much, and to make you feel better and to put you at ease, I wasn't even thinking about getting anything on my body done so, you have nothing to worry about, in fact Alice's case just pushed me futher away from the idea"

He breathes a sigh of relief and walks over to me towers over me where he kisses my forehead

"I love you and your body"

"I love you too"

[forbebeandjam]

Please bully G!p and perv g’p

Nxde | Bada Lee g!p x Fem Reader | +21

Summary: your bully has a secret only you know about…

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: g!p, fingering, and more smut… as well as bullying and rough sex.

READERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED (men and minors DNI)

A/N: I’m sorry I took long. You also didn’t specify if you wanted a Bada fic so if you want another person bully fic, please let me know and I’ll work on it. Enjoy♥️

🖤🥀🩶

You say at lunch with your head hung low. You thought your senior year would be fun. You had your best friend by your side during high school and everything seemed to be going according to your plan.

That was until your best friend's family moved states. They were struggling financially and needed to find somewhere else to live. And you never expected what happened at the beginning of the year.

You accidentally walked in on Bada Lee in the changing room. You didn't mean to. It was your getaway place and you needed a moment of silence. You never imagined that Bada Lee, the most snobby rich, and mean girl would be there, naked.

Let alone seeing what you saw. Her bulging member. You always suspected since middle school that she was hiding something. They acted strange. She would be secretive when going to the restroom or in the playground but you eventually brushed it off.

Seeing it in real life was odd and awkward. You didn't know what you felt exactly but it made you feel so many emotions at the same time.

She yelled at you and you escaped. You ran away and went back to class but she found you. And as much as you apologized, she made it her goal to target you.

Making up rumors about you and laughing at you with her friends. She would tell everyone you were poor and were only accepted in school because your mom was dating the principal.

When teachers weren't watching, she would pull on your hair and hit you. Harass you till tears were flowing down from your face.

So school became a burden to you. You didn't want to go and you begged your parents to not let you. But they were never caring so they wanted you out of the house for as much as long as they could.

And you didn't know why, or maybe you did, but every night, that image would reply in your head. Bada Lee in the changing room. It made you feel things such as warm feelings in the pit of your stomach and a tingling sensation in your core.

"Oh, look Bada. It's our little friend. The little peeking girl," her friend said. She pushed your tray to the floor causing a loud noise in the cafeteria. Everyone looked your way.

"This is our table now. Beat it," the blonde girl said.

"Red, just forget it," Bada said making you look up. Why was she showing mercy for you?

"Don't go soft on me Bada. You know damn well she doesn't deserve to be let off the hook," the girl said again as she grabbed your face.

"Redlic! Stop being childish!" Bada shouted causing the girl to let you go and walk behind Bada.

"Everyone out!" She shouted. No one asked anything and started to leave. She turned to Redlic and signaled her to leave. She was about to protest but Bada shot her a glare and she left.

She shut the doors and windows of the place and made sure no one would have access inside. Her parents funded the school with lots of money, so no one dared to disobey her. Not even the staff.

She walked back to you and lifted your chin with her thumb as she got close to your face.

"Pick it up, sweetie. We wouldn't want anyone to fall, huh?"There it was. Her asshole side.

"But... that's not my job," you said and she grabbed your arm and made you kneel. You got on the floor and picked up the spilled food. You were about to get up to get towels to clean the spilled water.

"Where are you going, babe?" she said and you turned to her with your watery eyes.

"To get towels," you replied trying not to stutter.

"You don't need towels..." she said. You tilted your head in confusion but walked back towards her when she signaled you to. You gulped in nervousness.

When you were standing in front of her, she dragged her finger from your jaw to your neck making your breath hitch. She then made her way down to your blouse and undid a button. You closed your eyes when you felt her rip off your blouse in one swift move.

You hugged your chest with your hands hoping that it would cover your exposed underwear. Bda then threw your blouse on the floor.

"Now kneel and use your clothes. Remove them one by one," she said as she leaned back on the table.

You shook your head and this caused her to scoff. She grabbed your hair and made you kneel.

"Do it, or you will regret it," she firmly stated before letting go. You bit your lip and removed your skirt to soak up all the spilled water. You felt exposed kneeling in front of Bada. You didn't dare to look at her.

"Fuck~" you heard her whisper. You looked at her and tilted your head.

"Who would've thought that body was under those baggy clothes? You are so fucking hot," she said. You shivered remembering you were exposed to her.

"Who do you wear lingerie for, you little slut?" she said as she pulled the strap of your bra and let it go causing a stinging feeling on your shoulder.

"Bada, I feel embarrassed..." you said as you looked down

"Now you know how it feels, huh? To be seen naked without consent. Answer me," she grabbed your neck and brought you closer.

"I... I like to feel pretty. No one likes me or sees me at all. I wear this to feel pretty sometimes," you said looking right into her eyes. She had a dark hue covering her pupils and she was smirking.

You could see how she looked at your lips and back at your eyes before she licked her own not letting go of your neck.

You felt warm. The way she looked at you with desire made you think that there might be a chance that someone does like you. More than that. She wants you and she isn't trying to hide it.

"Let's see..." she said as she made you stand up. She wrapped her hands around your bare waist and brought you close.

"Do you like it when my attention is on you?" she whispered in your ear. You shivered at the dirty thoughts in your head and closed your eyes. You didn't say anything. She chuckled and her hand traveled from your waist to your chest and she lowered it to the elastic of your panties.

"Bada-" you said but she slammed her lips against yours.

"You don't make a sound until I say so. You don't want to get a punishment. Be a good slut for me, understand?" She said siad and you nodded.

She slowly slipped her hand inside your panties and you bit your lip to prevent any sounds from escaping your lips.

"Look at that. Why are you so fucking wet, huh?" she said as he rubbed her fingers around your core. She pulled her hand out and showed you her coated fingers.

"Do you really want me that bad?" she asked. You didn't say anything and looked away from her gaze. She held your cheeks her her hand forcing you to look at her.

"Answer me, Y/N. or you won't get anything," she said using her tongue to lick your lips seductively.

"I... I want you, Bada. Please..." You spat out as a red hue filled your face. With her free hand, she undid your bra exposing your tender breast to her. She groped them and smirked when you became more vulnerable to her touch almost fighting a moan.

"Please, what? Use your words, princess," she said making you feel warm and... wanted.

"Please fuck me. Please," you said again and she chuckled.

"Open," Bada said and you followed. She shoved her coated fingers into your mouth making you taste yourself. You cleaned her fingers and she grabbed your hair making you get on your knees.

You could see the bulge in her pants making your eyes widen.

"It's no secret to you now. So, you know what to do, huh?" You grabbed the hem of her pants and visible boxers and slowly pulled them down. Her member was now rock hard and pointing right at you.

You drooled at the sight of her precum on the tip and used your hand to slowly rub it. She hissed at the feeling making you feel in control of her pleasure. Her eyes were shut enjoying the movements of your hand on her member.

You used slow strokes wanting to tease her more and more. You felt her grab a hold of your throat pressing the sides slightly.

"You know what I want. Use your pretty mouth, slut," she said and let you go. You licked your lips in anticipation and licked the tip. She took hold of your hair and made her swollen cock go deep into your throat, and you took it like a champ.

You began to move your head letting out occasional moans and sending vibrations into her member and she groaned at the feeling. You could feel her twitching in your mouth and you craved her cum inside of your mouth.

You pushed your tongue onto her member to cause more friction and you could hear profanities escape her lips. A shot of the warm liquid was shot into your mouth and she removed her cock from inside of you.

"What a good little slut. Who taught you how to do that pretty girl?" she asked. You swallowed her cum and she cleaned the one dripping from your chin with her thumb.

"No one. I just got carried away. You taste so good," you said still panting and with a raspy voice.

"Get up," she said. You stood up and she immediately carried you attacking your breasts and using her hand to go inside your gummy walls rubbing your clit with her thumb. Shaking whimpers started to leave your lips and she kissed you from your jaw to your breasts.

She started to bite and suck on your skin, marking you as her, and never in your life did you imagine she would be like this. Hungry for you wanting to devour you whole.

Your moans filled the room and you didn't care about anything else than the pressure the tall girl was giving you with her fingers. She removed her fingers from your insides. You felt the cold table against your back as she lay you down on it.

You hissed and she took her jacket off to place it behind you. She removed your panties quickly and gently rubbed her tip against your entrance teasingly.

"Bada... fuck me, please. Don't tease me. I need you inside of me," you said between pants.

"Is that so? You're so wet for me, huh? Your pretty pussy needs me that bad? Let's see if you can take me, pretty girl," she said and immediately shoved her member deep inside of your dripping cunt.

"Fuck!" You shouted at the unbelievable size inside of you. It was stretching you as she started to slowly stroke in and out allowing you to adjust to her.

“More, please. Bada~ mmh” you moaned and she placed her hand on your abdomen.

“I’m going to destroy this pretty pussy, princess,” she said as she started to thrust in and out of you rapidly. The sight of you laying there and your sopping pussy swilling her member drove her crazy. The way your back arched for her and your nipples were perky and rock hard. The way your hands would grip the edge of the table. Everything about you made her want you more and more.

“Mgn… feels… s-so… good. Ah… Mh gonna cum,” you said as she went deeper if that was possible. A bulge was created on your lower stomach every time she would thrust into you hitting your sweet spot.

You tightened around her causing her to groan in pleasure.

“Fuck… that’s right. So tight for me. You take me so well. What a good girl,” she said you started to whine and whimper, and the unexpectedly sweet feeling. She licked her fingers and began to rub your sensitive clit with them and with one deep thrust, you both came at the same time.

But ahead didn’t stop. She then attacked your sensitive bud with her mouth. She started to lick and suck on it as if she had been craving you for a long time.

“Bada! I can’t. It’s too much!” You said trying to push her head away from between your legs. You were shaking and she used her hands to push your legs apart and pin them down.

“Take it like the good slut you are,” she said as she looked into your eyes.

“Only for you,” you replied and she smirked going down on you once again but never breaking eye contact with you. You winced as she sucked on your clit overstimulating you to your limits.

You came all over again on her and she licked up every single drop of you with praises and letting you know how good you did for her. She made you sit up and kiss your lips softly.

“You did so well for me,” she said as she helped you clean up and get dressed. You tried to recover from the overwhelming pleasure.

She kissed your lips again and grabbed your cheeks. She made eye contact with you and you shivered.

“You belong to me. Don’t let anyone touch you or you’ll regret it, you hear me?” She said. You were dumbly nodding as she traced your skin with her fingers.

“Yes. Whatever you say, Bada,” you replied and she chuckled before holding your hand and dragging you to your class.

Thank you for reading 🩵

~🫧Taglist🫧~

@babybeastluv2 @jellysaidshit

Tell me if you wanna be added to tag list✨

[toon-tales]

Here it is! Part three! Omg, I'm so excited for this!

Let's begin!

Ok, so, I know a lot of people say that Poppy hasn't changed a lot in the third movie but let me stop you right there!

Here's our girl, our happy-go-lucky queen cutely dressed and if I may, waiting for her boyfriend to compliment her looks like he always does

But then she notices something is wrong

You can see in the third pic, she was thinking how to approach the matter, because this, after all, is her boyfriend's old home, where he used to live with his grandmother. And in the fourth pic, her brows are even more furrowed

And here, oh my gosh this scene:

Can we look at Poppy, PLEASE?!

She's paying her full attention to Branch. She wants him to talk, to open up to her. HER EYES ARE FILLED WITH HOPE SHE'S ENCOURAGING HIM TO TALK TO HER

Skip, skip, skip, skiiiiiip, annnndddd here:

"I'm not hearing no!"

Branch doesn't look sad, he doesn't look mad, he doesn't look scared, he doesn't look uncomfortable, and most importantly, he doesn't look forced

True, Poppy was all "We are so in!", but unlike in Twt, she actually listened to Branch when he wanted to talk to her, and Branch actually talked when something he didn't like was going on. Do you even see how much they've grown?

Now, Poppy knows how hard life is without a sibling, and she doesn't want her boyfriend to just take his family for granted. Her heart was in the right place, people

And Branch didn't say no! He didn't refuse! They talked, different opinions and different thoughts and different mindsets, yet they worked things out

And yeah, I know Branch was probably thinking 'what have I gotten myself into' in this scene

But the entire movie was just Branch having issues and dealing with them. And Poppy was trying to help him. Also, in case you haven't noticed, things do not work out the way Poppy has imagined, just like in Twt, but the difference? Later, she didn't leave Branch alone to go save Floyd, she went with him. Now, I hear you saying: she went because Branch didn't say anything to her, while they fought in Twt, that's why she left him

Wrong!

Let me remind you that Branch lied to her, kept things from her, kept his feelings from her, didn't open up, and literally was being sarcastic and you can see she was hurt in this scene

And they're in a new relationship which Branch is already beginning with hiding stuff, yet she put all that behind because -I'm not gonna say boyfriend - the man she loved, needed her. So, yeah. She's changed

Takes a deep breath

Now, let's move on, shall we?

I just wanted to point out how Poppy was looking at Branch when he was trying to yet again hide his feelings. She knows what's up

Moving on to this scene:

The way she's telling them to include Branch? The pure happiness and excitement on her face for him! PLEASE?! May I remind you that SHE WASN'T SINGING WITH THEM BUT WAS THIS HAPPY FOR BRANCH?!

Now, I've already talked about the scenes I'm going to talk about now in the analysis posts, but I'm gonna copy-paste them here because I don't want you people going to those posts, then return to this one and lose your focus and vibe

You have Branch, whose brothers' return has reopened scars he's been trying to close for so long, and has just found out his brother is being held captive, and is now in a rescue mission to save him and sing the perfect family harmony, the same thing that they failed miserably at the last time so they walked out and never talked to each other again, comforting his girlfriend. Poppy needed time, needed him, and he was ready to give her all the time she needed and stay with her. Proof? He didn't move until she has left first, ensuring she was ready to leave

Then we have Poppy, who has just found out her boyfriend has been hiding secrets from her, and watched as he reluctantly agreed to reunite with his brothers, and discovered she had a sister that she knew n o t h i n g about, and that this sister was so afraid to leave her safe place and go with her, deciding to go help Branch save his brother. She took one last glance at the walls separating her from Viva, then walked towards Rhonda, silently signaling she was ready to leave.

They were both dealing with stuff, needed time to open up/stay, yet each one thought of the other

Then this scene was SOMETHING ELSE-

"Where are you going?"

"To save Floyd, alone. I didn't need them growing up and I don't need them now." He didn't even look back when he said, "What are you doing?"

And the look of disbelief on her face. "What do you mean? I'm coming with you!"

He literally gave her a blind eye, didn't look at her. He didn't want to get weak. "Why bother? Aren't you gonna leave me eventually anyway?" He was certain. He didn't wait for any reassurances because he didn't want to hear any and live a lie again. "Everyone else does."

But despite that, Poppy did NOT give up on him

"I have been by your side from the moment we've met, and you've been by mine. Let's give each other some credit here."

'and you've been by mine' this wasn't about her, but about THEM. This line has so much depth and meaning for their relationship

"You're right, I'm sorry. Thank you."

He started with the apology because he knew what he just said was WRONG. He knew she wasn't leaving, they've always been there for each other. And I don't think he thanked her for coming, maybe for reminding him? I mean, that's Branch we're talking about, he would surely have thoughts and insecurities about people leaving him

But Poppy's always there to remind him that she's always there

His mission is her mission. She was willingly going for an insane rescue mission, and face people BRANCH HIMSELF didn't know anything about, all the while trying to deal with the separation between her and Viva. But she was going with him. Because that's just them

All they wanted was for the other to be happy

And in the end? It worked out just fine

So, to sum up this post, and the previous two: no, Branch isn't perfect like we claim, nor Poppy is, too. Hiding things? Sure, that happens. Lying? Happens as well. Disagreements? Oh, yeah, lots of those. But in the end of the day? They work things out

Branch is perfect for Poppy, and Poppy is perfect for Branch

That's just love, and it doesn't have to be perfect all the time

Sooooo, that's it? Omg that was fuuuun!

Anyway, as usual, feel free to add or comment on anything!

Part one

Part two

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full headcanons for when MC regains all of their missing memories please 🙏🏽🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: When MC regains their memories

Julian

It's one thing to discover, with someone who also didn't remember at the time, that he had essentially forgotten about you when you needed his help most. It's another to remember it

The early stages you spent still working with him, still sending him communications, still hoping he'd stop to connect long enough to notice your condition and do his job as a doctor and your friend

You don't know which hurts worse, that, or the later stages you spent weak and dying and alone, hoping against hope that he'd notice you were gone and come to help you through the last of it

The way his face falls in regret and pain when you finally tell him what those days were like is a closure you didn't know you needed

As much as it hurts both of you to address, the fact that Julian feels like you can forgive him while knowing the full extent of what he's done gives him an even stronger faith in your relationship

He's also excellently suited to helping you unpack it all - he's been through the same thing himself, having missing memories change how he lives, and then getting them all back at once. He gets it

So excited to learn all about your past self from you

Asra

If this ultimately makes you a happier, healthier person, they are both delighted for you and hugely relieved that it happened

One of his many fears after bringing you back was that he wouldn't be able to give you a life worth having. Your lack of memories definitely contributed to that, and seeing you recover is wonderful

Of course it's not all sunshine and rainbows. As soon as you've reached a point where you can talk about it, they're asking you for your forgiveness all over again and for your side of the story

He left you where he knew it was dangerous, and he failed to stay with you because he chose his fear over his love. He didn't even leave you a way to call for him when you needed him

At the same time, it's their unfailing presence with you now that helps you overcome the disjointedness of it all. They've grown and matured, but your current and old memories alike feature them

So when you're ready to reminisce, to start talking about your old antics and embarrassing mistakes and weird habits, the same best friend who saw it all then will remember it with you now

Only now, there's no walls, fears, or secrets left between you

Nadia

Your memories are back? Tell her everything

Seriously, everything. It's been so fulfilling for her to have someone to trust and allow into her heart and mind and space, and she's often regretted that you can't do the same to that capacity

She does struggle early on not to feel guilty when you mention things like Vesuvia's failing economy or the ravages of the Red Plague, but she's quick to keep the focus on you

Soaks up all the little details and anecdotes you share with her

You remember your childhood favorite food? She's having it served at tea, to see if it tastes the way you remember it

You mentioned a song you remember a parent or family member singing? She's boosting the local music scene with a big prize for whoever can find and learn to play/sing it to you

Really, really wants to visit all the places you have your core memories in. Taking you to Prakra gave her a closure and bond with you that she really wants you to enjoy as well

It goes without saying, but she has an open invitation to anyone you want to reconnect with to visit or stay at the Palace

Muriel

He's happy ... for you. He knows how deeply formative memories and history are, and it's only right for you to have your roots back

He's also the closest to terrified and insecure he's been in a long time, and that's because if you remember a time before the end of the Plague, you remember the time when he was the Scourge

He doesn't care for secrets. He's never hidden who he was from you. He knows you saw his old self and that it hasn't changed how you love him. But it's different when it's your memories, not his

What if you visited the Coliseum without him knowing?

What if you took a seat and experienced the disappointment and revulsion of seeing your best friend's oldest friend, maybe even someone you were fairly close with as well, turn into a killer?

But if you could look at his memories and still commit to loving him, he can and will do the exact same for you

Gives you space when you need it and sticks by your side when you need it, always ready to lend an ear when you want to share

Happy to go on a trip with you if it'll let you reconnect with lost family and roots. You did the same for him, after all!

Portia

Oh she's not worried at all. She knows you two have got this

Whatever there is in your history that she may have an issue with, she knows you two can talk about it and she knows who you are now is not who you used to be. No serious concerns there

That aside, you can finally live with (roughly) the same amounts of memories she has! This is great! You should write them down!

Not the best at giving you space if you want to process alone, but so empathetic with the whole adjustment that it's almost impossible to feel misunderstood. She's got your back

Even with the tricky relational stuff. Her older brother and Asra, especially. She knows you knew them when things were bad, and she's ready to mediate any hard conversations you need to have

And she'll give you all the emotional support you need after

Almost scarily dedicated to helping you track down and reconnect with people from your past. (Given how she spent three years hunting down her brother, it's not hugely surprising ...)

So confident and settled in your relationship that it makes sorting through the memories easier. You're still each other's fresh start

Lucio

He's happy for you! He really is! He promises! (all said with both hands in the air, a strained smile, and a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face while the dogs look unimpressed)

Okay so maybe he's a little scared

He knows you've talked about it. Hell, you walked with him through the landscape of his memories and failings and somehow managed to hold love for him as he went

But if you can actually remember, now, what he did ... who he used to be ... what you suffered because of him both directly and indirectly, and yes, the horrific death you can remember now too

He knows he's changed and his faith in you is boundless but his faith in who he used to be is nonexistent, for good reason

Almost makes you lose your temper pestering you for how you really feel and tripping over his feet to prove himself after

Once you've told him that nothing about your relationship is under threat, he becomes an amazing partner to help you unpack

He gets it. What it's like to relive visceral memories, for the past to feel so disjointed. He gets it, and he's got you

[adore-laur]

DAD HARRY: PART ONE

— just harry being a doting dad & husband 🍓

——

Saturday nights haven't been this peaceful in a while. Harry and your daughter left home about an hour ago to attend a father-daughter dinner organized by a group of parents at the daycare, so you're left by your lonesome to enjoy a relaxing time without your child's newly developed and daily tantrums. She's two-and-a-half years old, meaning it's out with the newborn bliss and in with the "Terrible Twos" phase every mom has warned you about. 

She was always an easy baby; she never cried for too long or was fussy too often. There's no doubt that she's still the sweetest little thing, but some days, it can be a nightmare to deal with her. You're thankful for her otherwise reserved nature, but even then, a toddler will do anything to get what they want, and your daughter is no exception. 

Nonetheless, you and Harry handle it as a team. Both of you choose to deal with her sudden outbursts by using a calm and understanding approach. She listens most of the time. If she got one trait from her father, it's the ability to be an annoyingly good listener and hang on to every word you speak. With Harry, it's always complete eye contact, well-placed affirmations, and asking all the right questions. You suppose it's because of his job, but he claims he was just naturally born with it. 

Having been together for six years, you and Harry have lived a beautifully intimate life on the coast of southern California, consisting of no neighbors, a secluded beach, and your little family of three. Harry works as a sous chef at a restaurant on the outskirts of town. He used to be the head chef before your daughter came into the world, but the wearisome hours he worked then would have never worked out with being a new father. He still hasn't accepted his old title back, much to your secret dismay. When he decided to demote himself, he suffered from a salary decrease and disappointed comments from co-workers. He didn't care, though. He told you that if it meant he had more time to spend with you and the baby, he would selflessly accept the consequences. 

During your postpartum days, he promised never to have a shift that had him arriving home after five in the evening unless necessary. It was a promise to always be with you for dinner, to watch the sun dip down the horizon, and to fall asleep next to you. He sometimes comes home in a palpable mood of frustration after a hectic shift, but as soon as he walks through the door and sees his girls, it's like magic the way his visibly tense shoulders sag with relief. 

There are instances when both of you need an independent getaway, but most of the time, it's the three of you together in your domestic bubble of love. You've never known a man quite like Harry. Nothing compares to his heart or drive to be the best possible husband, dad, and son. Also, you appreciate how he's so attentive and gentle with every part of your lives and how he'd go against that gentleness if needed to fight tooth and nail for his family. You've built a life worth living with him. He's yours entirely. 

And yes, his daughter has stolen some of that love, but each night before you fall asleep, it's like he can transfer every ounce of love in his precious heart to you with a simple touch. Or a single glance topped off with the softest kiss. 

As you sit alone by the blazing fire, you realize that nights spent by yourself no longer appeal to you. You want your family next to you all the time. You want your daughter to ask a million questions, mostly incomprehensible blabbering, but it melts your heart anyway. You want to watch Harry cook dinner, always putting on his actual chef coat and reading a recipe in a terrible French accent, just to make your daughter laugh. You want to watch him put a spaghetti noodle below his nose to act as a mustache, or watch him keep your daughter on his hip while letting her add an ingredient to a dish. Then, when she does, he looks at her with faux surprise and tells her she's better at his job than he is. 

Yet when your chef husband isn't home to make delicious food, you're stuck making frozen pizza. You considered having a glass of wine with it but decided not to because waking up on a Sunday morning with a pounding headache and a cranky toddler at the breakfast table is not something you want to deal with. 

With a reminiscent glint in your eyes, you finish the last slice and think about what they could be doing now. It's a little after seven, so you assume they're done eating dinner and socializing with the other dads and kids. Harry had said the restaurant was connected to a botanical garden, so they might be walking through it. Your daughter is probably exhausted. She woke up at five this morning and has been hyper all day, asking if she could go to dinner now, even if it wasn't lunchtime. 

You decide to text him and ask if he could take some pictures in the garden. Your and Harry's camera roles are filled with images of your daughter. 

I hope you guys are having fun! Please take some pictures of you both at the botanical garden. Miss and love you. Get home safe. 

You shut your phone off and stare at the moonlit water, waiting for your favorite people to come home. 

—— 

Harry is waiting for the check when he gets your text message. His phone screen lights up, displaying his lock screen, which is a photo of him and his baby girl on a hotel bed in Italy. They're both wearing fluffy white robes and are passed out from a long day of swimming under the sun and eating a boatload of food. 

That family vacation was six months ago. It was her second birthday, so he wanted to go somewhere special. Let's just say that being a chef at a nice restaurant has its perks. He had saved a lot of money after he started working more hours. Then, one day, he secretly bought three plane tickets to the Amalfi Coast.

Harry wants to go back more than anything. He has never felt more content and full of love (and carbs) anywhere else except for Italy. He swears he gained ten pounds from that trip alone, and he blames it on his daughter, who begged for raspberry gelato and ciabatta bread every chance she got. He had wanted to go back to the gym to lose weight, but you changed his mind when you told him on the last day in Italy that you found his new body attractive. You had also whispered in his ear that his thighs were thickening, and it was making you hot in the face. 

So, naturally, he took you into the shower, had you ride his thigh, and then made you come twice in twenty minutes. 

But that's beside the point. 

Harry reads your text, smiles, and then types out a response. Of course, love. We'll be home soon. We're full of spaghetti and love you very much. 

It's getting late, so he settles on taking the little rascal for a stroll through the gardens before she zonks out. He untucks his black shirt from his trousers, leans back against the chair, and rubs his hands over his stomach. It was a spaghetti dinner with seemingly endless garlic bread, so they are both now feeling the after-effects. 

Harry lets out a dramatic sigh that catches his daughter's attention. "Are you full?"

She mimics his position while nodding with a pout on her face. He laughs and starts folding his sunglasses in his shirt pocket, which he wore before it started getting dark out. He pushes their dirty dishes toward the middle of the table to make things easier for the busser. He then leaves a fifty-dollar bill as a tip. 

Reclaiming his credit card from the checkbook and putting it between his teeth, he grabs the coloring sheet the restaurant supplied and tucks it under his arm. He knows she'll want it on the fridge. 

He returns his credit card to his wallet and asks, "Ready to see the pretty flowers before we leave?" She hums a yes, and he can't help but reach across the table to pinch her cheek fondly before standing. "Let's go, sleepy girl." 

She lifts her arms in a request to be carried, and Harry picks her up with a groan. He's only thirty, so he really shouldn't be struggling to carry his daughter, who weighs the same as a sack of potatoes. He supposes that working in a kitchen and hunching over counters all day for the past decade might have something to do with it.

He hikes her up on his hip while she snakes her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. She'll be asleep in a matter of minutes. 

After he pushes their chairs in, he waves goodbye to the other daycare fathers before making a beeline for the commercial kitchen to bid adieu to the staff. He's friendly with some of them since he's a local chef himself, and he always tries to show his appreciation to chefs. He knows firsthand the hard work and stress of successfully running a restaurant behind the scenes.

Harry pushes the door open using his elbow and quickly catches the gaze of the head chef, whom he has talked to a few times at past culinary conventions and events. He takes his free hand and covers his daughter's exposed ear since it's noisy in the kitchen, with metal clanging and orders being shouted.

"Hi," he says, smiling politely at the head chef. "We're heading home, so I just wanted to give my thanks. The food and service were excellent." 

"Harry, it was good seeing you!" he replies cheerfully, reaching under a stainless steel countertop. "Stop by again soon. We love having your family here." 

"Will do, man. I'll bring my missus next time." 

Harry plans date nights every other week, usually finding restaurants he's never visited in the SoCal region. You've told him he gets endearingly talkative when explaining certain establishments' different cuisines and recipes. The restaurant he's at tonight has always been a favorite because he's taken you there a handful of times when the both of you were still in the early stages of dating. He even worked there as an assistant chef for two years. 

On the third date he took you on, if he remembers correctly, he may or may not have convinced his boss at the time to let him take you back to the kitchen so he could show you how to make chocolate-covered strawberries. You'd told him you had made them before, and he blushed while mentally facepalming himself; he thought he was being clever. That didn't stop him, though, because he ended up pulling something out of thin air. Turn up his charm, so to speak, by saying that his version of the classic recipe was extra special. 

Well, he had lied. 

They were just regular chocolate-covered strawberries, but he pushed up his sleeves (metaphorically and literally) and used fancy chef jargon to try to impress you. It worked—at least he thought so. Later, you admitted that you were actually just ogling his biceps every time he dipped the fruit into the melted chocolate. 

Once the strawberries were finished, Harry wrapped them up nicely and drove you home from the date. He fed you one before you got out of his beat-up Subaru, the only thing he could afford as a broke assistant chef. He will never forget you walking to your front door, half the strawberry still in hand, and then seeing you suddenly turn around to return to his window to feed him the last half. He had taken it in his mouth, chewing after taking a strangely erotic bite. He smirked at you and glanced down at your lips, which were stained a glistening red from the tart juices. 

"You're something else," he'd said sincerely, his voice raspy from work. 

"And you just scored another date with me."

From that moment on, he was gone for you. 

After shaking hands with the other chefs, Harry leaves the restaurant and walks to his Bentley. He rationally decides to skip out on the botanical garden tonight because he wants her to be fully awake to see the blossoming flowers. 

He unlocks the back door and gently straps her in, tucking her favorite blankie under her chin as she sleepily blinks at him. His heart melts into a puddle. "Let's go home to Mama, okay?" he murmurs, brushing her wispy hair back with a delicate sweep of his fingers. "I had such a fun time with you tonight." 

She yawns as ferociously as a toddler physically can, then lunges her arms forward for a hug. Harry hugs her the best he can with her in the car seat. He inhales her apple-scented shampoo while pressing kisses to the side of her head and then pulls away, poking her button nose with his thumb. 

"I love you this big," he says, spreading his arms as wide as possible. 

She giggles and copies his gesture. "Love big too," she replies brokenly with her sweet voice. 

Harry puckers his lips and kisses the air before sliding into the driver's seat. He takes out his phone to send you a quick update: She's in a spaghetti coma, so we're coming home now. We can go to the garden as a family next weekend. 

Pressing send, he smoothly pulls out of the parking lot and drives along the coastal highway with slightly cracked windows. He listens to his daughter's soft snores and thinks of you the entire way home with a dreamy smile.

—— 

You're still sitting by the fire, its flames dying with flickering embers, when you hear the garage door grinding open. You grin, immediately feeling warmer now that they're back home.

You had briefly gone inside to get a juice pouch for your daughter, just in case she came back awake. You also spontaneously decided to make chocolate-covered strawberries since you felt sentimental while reminiscing about the honeymoon phase of your relationship with Harry. 

The sound of footsteps sifting through the sand makes you turn your head. You find your husband with a sleeping angel clung to his side, his shirt untucked, and no shoes or socks on; he probably didn't want sand in his loafers. The shadow of scruff on his face is more noticeable, and the orange light from the campfire dances off his features. He looks at you, a soft smile gracing his lips as he carefully treads through the beach grass to reach you.

"I've got a delivery," he whispers, sitting next to you on the blanket you spread out. "She's unconscious and full of spaghetti, so I don't think she'll be useful to you." 

You laugh quietly and stare at your baby, who is sleeping peacefully. Your knuckles stroke her round cheeks as you ask, "How was it?"

"Good. I ate my weight in pasta and bread, but it was worth it. We had fun." 

You sling your arm around his waist and pat his stomach. "I'm glad you guys spent some time together." 

He hums thoughtfully, unbuttoning his trousers to release the strain. "I need to start watching what I eat and cut down on the carbs. Otherwise, I'll look like Santa in five years." 

He says it like he's joking, but you know he's been insecure about his weight since you were pregnant. He naturally put on sympathy weight during the nine months you carried the baby, and then afterward, it simply reached a point where he never had time to work out, whether being too busy working or spending his free time with you and the baby. He ate healthily, but some nights, he caved and ate carbs like there was no tomorrow. Plus, he's a chef, so you can't necessarily blame him for enjoying food.

When you met him seven years ago, he was twenty-four and had skinny legs and a slim torso. But if one thing hasn't changed about his body, it's his strong arms. They've held you through several situations — hugging you whenever you needed a companion, feeling the natural warmth radiating from him. Or holding your baby girl for the first time, his black tattoos beautifully contrasting the precious pink blanket that swaddled her. He could easily cradle her in one arm, fitting perfectly in the crook of his elbow like she belonged there. She still does. 

Or, arguably, your favorite, which is when he holds your body up, your back pressed against his chest, as he fucks you like no one else can. His bicep across your collarbones, his hand gripping your shoulder like he's physically claiming you, and his other hand gripping your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach...

You're getting carried away. 

The point is that his body is lovely. He still has abs from being generally fit and strong thighs that can chase after your daughter during playtime. His back muscles are masterfully sculpted from the physical exertion that goes into being a chef. His flawless face, too, but that goes without saying.

"I love your body," you say, wanting him to feel good about himself. "No matter the changes it's gone through, I adore all of your soft parts." 

He looks at you, trying to hold back a smirk. Of course, his mind immediately went to a dirty place. 

"I'm being serious. You're allowed to have insecurities. Remember when you felt bad eating all those carbs in Italy? What did I tell you?" 

Harry gazes at the ocean tide. "I was thinking about that at dinner tonight. When I saw my lock screen, I thought about that trip." He sighs and adds, "I don't know why I'm insecure when you're the only one I try to impress." 

You stare at him with nothing but adoration swimming in your eyes. "Are you feeling these insecurities because of the dinner? With all the dads there?"

He leans forward and kisses your forehead. "Why are you so fuckin' smart? I swear you're too good for me," he says with a breathtaking smile.

"I just want you to talk through these things," you explain, touching his neck. "I know how miserable it can be to keep those thoughts bottled up until the bottle breaks." 

Your thumb strokes along his jaw as you continue, "You're thirty-one. It's never too late to realize those insecurities and either come to peace with them or work on them. You know I'll always help you with whatever you decide." 

Harry exhales through his nose and settles his forehead on your shoulder. "Never stop talking to me," he says sincerely, kissing your skin tenderly.

You pinch his chin with your thumb and pointer finger. He moves his head to gently nip the pad of your thumb before kissing it. "I love you." 

"I know it," he whispers. "I just compare myself to rich, douchebag dads that own literal corporations and would probably ask me to be their personal chef in their ridiculous mansions if they knew what I did for a living." 

You offer him a sympathetic smile. He shouldn't look down on his career. It pays well, but it's nothing compared to the So-Cal dads who own Lamborghinis and have a million different job titles. 

"Harry, don't make me use my mom voice," "you say in a scolding tone. 

He grins delightedly. "I don't mind." 

"I've been with you for seven years. I was your girlfriend, married you, and pushed out a baby because I wanted a family with you. Your job doesn't matter to me in the way you're thinking. I love that you're a chef. When you first told me, I told my friends how hot I thought it was. I still find it hot." 

He's full-on blushing now. You continue, "You come home and are in such a good mood most days. Do you know why? Because you love what you do. You love the people, the food you make, and the environment, which matters most. Not money or how many cars you own. Without hesitation, you made the difficult decision to step down from being in charge so we could start a family together. You have no idea how much that meant to me. Now you have a daughter who watches you cook her favorite meals and loves you insanely. That's what you should be proud of. And that's what all those other dads should be jealous of." 

Harry's gaze flicks between your eyes before he kisses you with so much passion that you feel dizzy. You kiss him back, and he inhales like he's breathing you in. Your daughter is still asleep, so you pull away before it escalates. 

He finishes with a big kiss on your cheek, then rests his cheek against yours. "I love you so much," he whispers into your ear for only you to hear. "I'm pretty sure you just gave me a love boner." 

You laugh, feeling his dimple form against your cheek. He leans back to look at you and shakes his head. "No joke," he says, infectious laughter crawling up his throat. "You just made me hard by telling me how much you love me." 

You roll your eyes playfully before standing and stretching your back. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get her to bed." 

Harry stands and hikes up your daughter a little. With a frown, he glances down at his pants when he realizes they're still unbuttoned. He obviously can't button them with one arm preoccupied with sleeping beauty, so you help him. You lift his shirt an inch to kiss his soft stomach first, then rest your chin on it and look up at him with a smile. After admiring his handsome face for a moment, you button his pants.

Your daughter is carefully passed from his arms to yours for a brief cuddle session before she has to be tucked into bed. Harry throws an arm around your shoulders and guides you inside the house. His steps falter when he retrieves a coloring sheet and gives it to you. It's a simple one that restaurants provide, and this particular one has a scene of two bunnies frolicking in the grass. It is what it is for a toddler with no concept of artistry, and you smile proudly when you take it from him. You'll hang it on the fridge with her other scribbled creations. 

Harry opens the porch door and lets you inside first before locking it. He turns on the lamp in the living room. Then, as if reading your mind, he grabs tape from the junk drawer and attaches the drawing to the fridge. While he tidies the kitchen, you head in the opposite direction toward her bedroom.

After a few minutes, you see Harry in your peripheral vision and pat the floor in invitation. He kneels beside you, his knees cracking. He dramatically lets out a fake cry of pain, and you silently laugh while flicking his chest. He opens his mouth in offense, acting as if you just insulted him, to which you just shake your head and gesture zipping his mouth shut. He slyly smacks your ass, and you give him a warning glare before standing and kissing your daughter goodnight. 

Before you leave the room, you get revenge by tickling Harry's sides from behind and then quickly running out of the room. You know how much he hates being tickled, but you were feeling the mutual playfulness that always trickles around bedtime. You reach the bedroom, hearing his heavy footsteps down the hallway. He pokes his head past the doorway to the master bedroom. You look at him with wide eyes and sit at the edge of the bed, waiting for his next move. 

Harry saunters through the doorway while looking around and nonchalantly whistling a tune with his arms behind his back. He walks to the connected master bathroom, your eyes trained on him the entire time. He turns around to close the sliding door just enough so that you still have a partial view of him.

"What?" he asks innocently, catching your eyes in the bathroom mirror. He's messing with you. And making you sweat.

"What are you doing?" you retort, crossing your legs partly to act unaffected and to ease the ache between your legs. 

He casually leans against the jamb. "Let's see... someone left me with quite a problem, so I thought I'd take care of it before bedtime like the gentleman I am," he says smugly, maintaining a stellar poker face. 

"What do you suppose I do while I wait?" you reply, confident enough to play his game. 

He deeply hums while standing straight and removing his trousers. With his thighs on display, you admire the tattoos there—a tiger on one and your name on the other. "I suppose you could get some sleep. Perhaps read. Whatever you'd like, darling, I'm not picky." He now stands in black boxers and a loose T-shirt. So cocky. 

"And what will you be doing if I decide to sleep or read?" you challenge, sliding up on the bed to lean against the headboard. 

Harry lets a smirk take over his face as he says, "What would you like me to do, honey?" 

"I'd like you to not be in there alone." 

"Will you be a good girl while I take care of the little problem you gave me?" 

"Of course, baby. You know I always am." 

One side of his mouth tugs up as he slowly nods, seemingly agreeing with you. "Always so good," he whispers, just loud enough to hear. He inhales deeply before turning around frustratingly slowly, finally pulling his shirt and boxers off. He's tan from the daily sunshine, and his back muscles flex with each subtle movement. Your mouth quickly goes dry. 

He disappears to turn the shower on but leaves the door open, which you know is an invitation. You had already changed into your silk pajama shorts and a tank top while he was in the kitchen, so you shut your bedroom door before entering the bathroom. 

Oh. 

The sight has your breath hitching. Harry's silhouette is behind the steamed, see-through shower door. One hand on the wall, the other... well, he didn't even wait for you. He has already started. You hear his quiet groans being stifled by his mouth buried in his arm, causing hot and bothered tingles to prickle your skin. 

You don't think he sees you yet, so you take your pajamas off and quietly close the bathroom door. For some reason, you suddenly remember you have chocolate-covered strawberries in the fridge. You leave him to his fun and quickly grab a towel to wrap around you before walking to the kitchen. You open the refrigerator, grab two strawberries, and then shuffle back into the bathroom. As you drop the towel, you realize he's still going. You didn't think you got him worked up that much just by talking about how good of a person he is. Each to their own. 

After hastily eating one of the strawberries, you gently knock on the glass. Harry stops abruptly and rests his face on his arm. He slightly cracks open the door to see and hear you. It takes everything in you to not look down. 

"Hi," you say quietly. "I'm here." 

He's breathing heavily, water dripping down his slick body. Wet strands of hair fall over his forehead as his eyes bore into yours. "You are, aren't you?"

You subtly glance down at the problem you gave him; it's throbbing and needs assistance. You're sure he will disapprove of you interrupting his session with a dessert offering. 

With your eyes focused on the floor, you absentmindedly draw a heart in the steam evaporating on the glass shower door and say, "I made dessert when you guys were gone." When spoken out loud, your sentimental baking idea seems stupid. "I almost forgot about them and then remembered they were in the fridge, so I brought you one. I was reminiscing about when we started dating and thought about the strawberries. Anyway..."

You're rambling too much. He was pleasing himself, and here you come, waltzing in with dessert while stumbling over words like you just met him. You need to get it together. 

Harry is still looking at you with his chest heaving, his left arm taut, and his large hand pressed against the shower wall, while his other hand still grips his cock. His piercing eyes have become darker, and they peer down at your hand holding the strawberry. The chocolate at the tip is gradually melting. His eyes travel even further down to your bare legs, then to the heart you drew. His lips twitch. 

When his gaze meets yours again, his tongue presses into his cheek before he straightens his posture. He steps toward the crack in the door and leans slanted against the shower wall, his naked body shamelessly in full view. 

You wait for him to interact with the Strawberry of Nostalgia, but he just looks at you smugly. Jutting your hand further, you indicate that he should take it again. It feels like he's secretly judging you. He's barely said anything, and now he's gazing at you like he wants to eat you for dessert. 

"The chocolate might melt off since it's pretty steamy in here," you mention with a nervous and breathy giggle. 

Harry regards the strawberry again before moving his head toward you. "Yeah?" he says with a wicked smirk. 

"Yeah," you reply, refusing to look into his eyes. "They haven't been in the fridge for very long." 

He laughs huskily, then clears his throat. "Well, I'm waiting right here, darling. I'm not a huge fan of melted and mushy chocolate-covered strawberries." 

So, he wants you to feed it to him. Like you did all those years ago when you first realized you were so gone for him. Good lord.

The steam in the bathroom is not helping your feverish body temperature. You take a few deep breaths before touching Harry's swollen lips, which you assume he's been biting on to suppress his noises. He maintains intense eye contact with you as he slightly opens his mouth. You guide the strawberry into it, and he bares his teeth while sensually biting the fleshy fruit. 

Once half of it is in his mouth, he tilts his head and chews slowly. He groans, his eyes rolling back. "So fuckin' good." 

You eat the other half to move the tension along, then throw the leafy stem on the ground. On trembling legs, you step away and admire the water droplets on Harry's lips that turn pink from the juices. 

His thumb and pointer finger wipe the creases near his mouth. He then reaches through the door's crack and brushes his slick thumb across yours before sucking on it. In desperate need of relief, you clench your thighs and shakily exhale. 

"I'll be good," you plead, utilizing your angelic eyes to get him to give in. "I won't touch you, but please let me watch." 

Harry tuts. "Are you sure you'll just watch? Or are you going to be a brat like you were with that little stunt you pulled earlier?" 

It's no surprise he's still hung up on the tickling. His ego can't take what he dishes out. God forbid he teases you because you know his precious pride will be crushed as soon as you do it back.

You bite your tongue and promise yourself to be good for him. "I'm sorry for doing that. I didn't mean to be a brat. I swear I'll behave this time." 

He beckons you by curling his fingers inward. "Come here, then."

You slide open the door further until you can squeeze through, then shut it tightly before standing across from him. The shower is spacious with a built-in bench--both of you have done your fair share of indecent activities on it. 

"Hey," Harry says lowly. "Be my good girl and sit. No talking or touching, okay? Watch me until I finish."

Nodding, you obediently sit on the bench and cross your legs to relieve the subtle pressure growing between them. You glance at Harry with innocent eyes that you know will weaken him. He gives in for a split second when he leans down and places his hands on either side of your thighs, nudging his nose against your cheek before kissing it roughly. You try not to smile at his momentary infirmity. 

"Stay put, or I'll walk out of here and go straight to bed," he warns, resuming the position you walked in on, except this time he's right in front of you. His palm on the shower wall is closest to you, with his other hand gripping his cock. 

This is going to be torture.

——

[fandoms--fluff]

Hope Mikaelson with a fem!reader that is the last siren alive and have hydrokinesis

splash

Flufftober, October 9th

Female siren reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: none

A/n: For anyone who may or may not know what hydrokinesis is, as I did, it's the power of water manipulation and controlling it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you sit on a rock by the falls, you create a spiral of water and make it float in the air. You need some time away from the school.

Everyone found out about you being a siren, thankfully nothing about your hydrokinesis, but it really sucked. Especially since Alaric is quite literally making it his personal mission to make your life a living hell over the past week since it was revealed. Apparently for 'lying' about your specie type even though he never asked you and just assumed you were a witch.

He obviously didn't think there were any sirens left alive after Sybil and Selene. Which he definitely didn't appreciate you bringing that up when he went off at you, yelling about how you were a 'disgrace'.

The only person you told about yourself was Hope, your girlfriend. She'd been away in New Orleans with her family when it happened and she's still there.

At least that's what you thought until you heard the sounds of footsteps, someone's walking up behind you. You turn around, letting the water water back into the river from the air.

You let out a sigh of relief when you see it's Hope. You jump down from the rock and walk into her open arms. She wraps her arms around you tightly as you cling to her. You bask in her warmth. Finally someone who's not staring at you as if you were missing your head.

You breathe in her scent of floral perfume and tropical shampoo. "I missed you" You mumble into her neck. "I missed you too." She squeezes you before pulling away slowly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when it all happened" She holds your hands in her own. Josie filled her in on what happened when she got back to the school this morning.

She was shocked you hadn't phoned or texted her about it. Honestly, she does get why you hadn't, it must've been really overwhelming and you didn't want to bother her. She's been trying to slowly get you to open up to her, it's a working progress.

She had been searching the entire school for you until she realized where you'd obviously be. Your favorite place in Mystic Falls, the falls. You took her there on your guys' date when you told her about your powers and about being a siren.

"It's alright, I didn't I want to bother you. You don't get much time with your family" You muster up a soft smile. "Well, it isn't everyday your girlfriend's secret is exposed. At least half exposed." She tells you.

"Who told you?" You sigh, you really didn't want Hope to feel sorry for you. "Josie did. And I don't want you to think I'm just doing this because I feel sorry for you" She tells you.

You snap your eyes back up from gazing at her hair, "How'd you, what, can you read minds?" You try not to stutter.

"You have that look in your eyes" Hope tells you and brings your right hand up, placing a kiss to it. You tilt your head in a questioning way. "What?" Her eyebrows furrow.

"I'm trying to figure out if you're a robot or not" You tell her with no joke in your voice. "Ahuh, very funny" Hope chuckles before leading you over to the water.

"How are you, really?" She links her arm with yours. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts while watching the water fall.

"I'm not saying I'm okay, but it will be. I know it will be. I just need to wait for everything to die down at the school." You explain softly to her as birds chirp in the background.

"Thank you for being honest with me" She rests her head against your shoulder. "Of course. You know I don't try to lie to you, right?" You ask her in a quiet voice, almost whisper.

"Yes, I do, Babe. I know you don't" She holds onto your arm. "Good. So you'll forgive me this then" A mischief glint appears in your eyes, not that your girlfriend can see.

"What are you talking about- hey!" She exclaims when you pick her up and then run into the river, splashing both of you into the cold water. "Oh, I am so gonna kill you!" She splashes water towards you after you drop her in front of you (safely, don't worry).

"You're gonna have to catch me first" You smirk and dive into the water, swimming deeper into the river. "You're on" She chuckles and swims after you.

She shreds the water out of her way as she tries keeping up with you. Though, she realizes it's basically useless. You slow your pace down and stop, turning around to take pity on your tribrid girlfriend.

"You okay, Baby?" You stifle your chuckle at your panting girlfriend as she slowly crawls her way over to you.

"Okay, no fair, you're basically a mermaid" She pants, wrapping her arms around your neck, and legs around your torso to hold herself up in the water.

"And I just realized how out of shape I am" She lets out a massive puff of breath. "Oh, please, if you're out of shape, then I'm a pirate" you raise an eyebrow, making her laugh.

She then takes in your appearance, your eyes look so beautiful and your wet hair makes you look gorgeous with how it falls down by your face.

Before she knows it, she leans in and passionately kisses you. You wrap your arms around her waist as your kiss your girlfriend back. She whines when you pull away. "Why?" She pouts to you.

"I'm sorry, Baby, it's getting late, we should probably be heading back to the circus ring" you tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She looks down at your guys' clothing, she then pauses. "We're soaking wet" She states. "Yes we are" a smile quirks at your lips.

"We're soaking wet in our clothing." She tells you, her eyes widened. "It's alright, I promise you we can snuggle all night" You promise as you start to walk out of the body of water.

You carry her all the way out of the water to the giant rock you we're resting upon earlier. "I'm gonna hold you to it" She mumbles as she's set down back on the ground.

"I don't doubt it" You wrap an arm around her shoulder.

When you notice Hope shivering, you raise your hand and all the water raises from both your bodies, hair, and clothing. And then swish them back into the river.

"There, a little bit warmer" You kiss her cheek.