#wanted practice small expressions with him

[asidian]

Edwin is a fascinating character for a lot of reasons, but one I haven't delved into very deeply yet is the juxtaposition between the fact that he is genuinely, earnestly kind while also simultaneously being unsure of how to express that kindness.

He was raised in a time when physical affection and emotional conversations were avoided if not actively discouraged. On top of that, he's had 70 years in hell in survival mode that did not help him hone his people skills at all.

But we see him try, again and again, especially for Charles.

The most memorable instances are, of course, when Edwin offers Charles comfort after his breakdown at the beach, the two separate offers to talk if Charles needs to, the hug, and their meeting in the attic with the lantern.

But there's one small moment that isn't as obvious; I didn't notice it at all on my first few watch-throughs.

It's just after the Devlin house, when Charles has had a truly awful night. Edwin has just started to understand the scope of how upset he is by what happened there, and why.

And then we get this remarkable exchange:

While Charles is lost in his thoughts somewhere behind that thousand-yard stare, Edwin gives Crystal a straightforward, earnest, not at all backhanded compliment. It's the first time he does; compared to the one he offers her in the episode with the sprites, this is practically effusive.

By itself, it's a very sweet moment between the two of them as their relationship develops.

And it is that.

But it's something else, too. Because this is how Edwin follows it up:

Crystal hearing it isn't enough.

He wants Charles to hear it.

In fact, he wants Charles to hear it so badly that he pauses, waits for Charles to react, doesn't get a reaction, and asks again.

Yes, this compliment is meant for Crystal, but it's meant for Charles, too – in a different way.

This is Edwin playing nice, like Charles has been wanting him to do since episode one. This is him giving Charles what he's been making puppy dog eyes over for days now.

This is Edwin pulling out the thing he thinks will make Charles the happiest. This is Edwin, fumbling to figure out what will help.

The hug that Charles needs so desperately isn't for some episodes yet – and these boys do get there eventually.

But I dearly love this first uncertain step on the path to Edwin figuring out what Charles needs from him.

He may not have the best instincts when it comes to handling social situations, but by god, he's so very kind, and he's trying, and there is something unspeakably sweet about that.

[thevillainswhore]

Dancing With The Devil I

Pairing: Alternative!Bucky Barnes x Cheerleader!F!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: You were always a sensible girl — an angel some would say. But how quickly are you willing to shred your wings when the devil himself is so damn tempting?

Or, Bucky Barnes, college’s resident bad boy, upturns your ethics, your morals, your life when you invite him to support the cheer teams’ fundraising kissing booth.

Warnings: College AU, bad boy v. good girl trope, inexperienced!reader, Bucky has tattoos and piercings, pet names, unwanted groping (not from Bucky!!), violence, mention of blood, sexual tension, almost kisses.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Divider by @saradika-graphics. Part 1 of 2 — this is a build up to the smut. Hope you enjoy!

The fundraiser season was upon you — an event your college went a little crazy for every year and as a new member of the cheer squad, it was a main part of your duty to join in with the festivities. 

A proposition of a kissing booth, shyly put forward by yourself had become a hit amongst the rest of the cheerleaders that they instantly approved of — most of them, at least. It was all in good spirit to raise money for charity. 

And so wanting to gather hype around the event — one you had tirelessly worked day and night to put together — you and your best friend, Sharon, volunteered to hand out fliers together. The two of you wandered aimlessly around the courtyard in your team uniform to spread the word. 

“I think this is going to be really good, sweet,” Sharon excitedly spoke over her shoulder as she stapled a flier onto the notice board. “I checked our hashtag on the school's twitter page this morning and we’re already trending.”

Your eyes widened and you spun your head towards her in shock. “Really?” Whipping out your phone from your skirt pocket, you quickly brought up the app and checked the post — already the most anticipated fundraiser of the night. “That was fast!” 

“Mhm,” she mumbled, nodding her head. Slyly, she looked over at you from the corner of her eye. “I bet you’re excited about all those hot and sweaty football players who are gonna be lining up for a kiss.” 

Your head snapped up from your phone with your mouth parted, struggling to scold her. “Sharon!” you squealed. 

“What?” The smirk on her face was all too teasing for your liking. “You know most of them are gonna be desperate for a small piece of you, sweets.” 

Your cheeks grew warm, an embarrassed heat growing up your neck as you stumbled over your words. “N-No I don’t think so—“

“C’mon babe.” Sharon stopped what she was doing and cocked her hip towards you with a raised eyebrow. “You really don’t see the boys practically drooling over you?” 

Honestly, you didn’t see it. Spending most of your time practicing your routines or studying in the library, there was no time to worry about boys and you didn’t have much experience within the relationship department anyway, which made you blind to any advances. 

“Even if they did, they’re not my type.” You shrugged, not giving in to the disbelieving expression on Sharon’s face. “I’m serious! I’m just not into that.” 

“Okay, sure—whatever you say.” Your friend playfully taunted you with a smile until her gaze locked onto something behind you. A small frown appeared on her lips and a not-so-subtle sneer lined her cheeks. “Just so long as it isn’t them, for fucks sake—the last thing you need is an asshole like that.”

Spinning around, you squinted your eyes, looking for whoever Sharon was talking about. A group of students, dressed collectively in hoodies, leather jackets and combat boots were gathered around the bike sheds with a cloud of smoke billowing over their heads. 

“What’s wrong with them?” you asked inquisitively, genuinely stumped for her dismay. 

“Trust me, sweets. You don’t want to get wrapped up with those people. They’ll fucking eat you up and spit you back out,” Sharon replied. 

Leaning on your tiptoes, you spotted a familiar face in the crowd. “Well, what about Wanda? She’s with them and she’s not an asshole.” 

Your friend seemed to struggle to come up with an answer to your question. “That’s different. She’s part of our squad and she’s actually nice.” 

That didn’t appease you, though. “Couldn’t that mean the others are nice, too?”

Sharon was protective, fierce to those she loved and held dear. She had befriended you the day you bumped into each other on the field for practice; when your eyes were holding back tears after Daisy, the second in command cheerleader, made a remark with her friends about how on earth you had managed to be accepted onto the team. 

Since then, the two of you have been glued at the hip — like sisters you dared to think. Her advice was gospel to you and so you took her word seriously. “Sweetie, they’re no good. Just trust me.” 

“Okay,” you sighed as you turned back around. A solemness took over as you remembered that you had been benched to the sidelines for your very own event. “I don’t actually think I’ll be working the booth anyway. Daisy said she only needs me on clean up duty.” 

Sharon’s body suddenly tensed with aggravation.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes were burning with fury as she turned to look at you. “Daisy said what now?”

“T-That I have to clean up?” you offered once again unsure.

Your friend scoffed. “She can’t do that—she has no fucking right to do that. You came up with the idea!” 

The intensity of her anger, even when not directed at you, was overwhelming and your eyes darted down while you mumbled disheartenedly, “I know but what can I do? What she says goes.” 

The fire in Sharon’s eyes was unlike anything else as she went on a tirade of rage — her own dislike for Daisy getting the better of her. 

You zoned out of the conversation, not wanting to dwell on the upset Daisy’s disapproval of you caused. Instead, you counted the rest of your fliers, satisfied to at least have made progress for the day. 

Just as you were about to jump back into the heated conversation, laughter behind you caught your attention. While Sharon was busy brewing in her hatred, you glanced over your shoulder to once again look at the group you had become so intrigued by. 

The colourful paper in your hand, rustling together with the slight breeze drew you to look at them. You only had a few fliers left and you knew Daisy would have something to say if you came back with them. 

A lightbulb dinged in your mind. Your head snapped up; your whole face lit up with the prospect to gain a wider audience for your event. 

Sharon’s voice became clear then. “I can’t believe she even has the audacity when she’s not even the head cheerleader. Such a stuck up bi—“ 

“We still have fliers left!” you interrupted your friend mid sentence, feigning shock as though you had only just noticed. She stopped talking and frowned while you began to walk backwards. “M-Maybe I should just head over there to hand them out. We do need all the people we can get after all.”

Looking behind you, the direction of your steps, her eyes widened once she saw where you were going. “Sweets—,” she warned, as though she was talking to an animal ready to run. “Come back here, please.” 

But there was no use; you had already spun around and started skipping on over. “Hey—Wait! Get back here you little shit!” 

The pleats of your skirt bounced along with you while you giggled, your shoes scuffing along the pavement until you stopped in front of the large group. With the little confidence you had, you cleared your throat before squeaking your greeting over the loudness. “Hi!” 

Instantly, conversation amongst everyone died down, every single person turning their head to you. A pin drop could be heard over the busy courtyard. 

The amount of beady eyes, all wondering who had interrupted them, caused an overwhelming anxiety to fester in your stomach. Regret soon sank in as what small bout of bravery you once had soon whittled away once you gained their attention. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you were sure everyone heard your gulp before you forced yourself to speak.  “I—I um, just wanted to—to hand these out.” Your hands shook as you held the vibrant fliers up — the red and pinks contrasting to the sea of black and greys staring you down like prey. “For our fundraiser cel-celebration.”

The awkwardness dragged on in the silence and your skin crawled with nerves. This was a terrible idea. Sharon was right, you should have never come over and instead listened to her. But you were soon pulled from your inner turmoil. 

A brooklyn drawl, raspy yet smooth cut through the deafening stillness at the same time a tall figure stood up in the crowd, whistling low as he feasted on you. “Well ain’t you the prettiest lil’ thing, hoppin’ on over in your short skirt.” 

It was difficult, even in the daylight, to make out the face of this stranger; long shaggy brown hair, hidden behind a hood. Even partly elusive, you had never seen anyone like him before, but you couldn’t deny the tingles that shot up your arms and made the fine hairs stand on edge. 

His thick-soled boots, covered in buckles that jingled with each step, thudded menacingly along the concrete while he made his way over to you. And as the sun hit his face just right, that’s when you saw his eyes, bright blue and sparkling; giving attention to his silver nose ring.  

You were held to your spot, breathless and squirming. Though you tampered yourself as he drew closer and finally came before you, one step away from touching your toes. “So, what’s this you got planned, sweet thing?”

A gruff blonde with cropped hair and a sleeveless denim jacket snorted behind him, a thick scruffy beard decorating his face. “Go easy on her, punk.” 

The stranger that had you a little starstruck brought himself even closer — within an inch of you — crossing his arms behind his back and squinting curiously to look directly into your eyes, a gleam in his own.

You were intoxicated by the smell of leather and smoke, a combination that should have made you feel sick and yet rendered you dizzy with heat. The spell he bound you with held you in a deep trance. “A kissing booth,” you whispered timidly. 

“Oh?” He grinned wide, a huff of fresh mint from the gum he was chewing combined with his aroma. “A kissing booth, you say?”

“It’s for charity.” You licked your lips with hesitation. “You—um—you pay for a ticket and in return a girl of your choosing from the team can k-kiss you—“ A sudden thought that you had no idea who you were talking to stopped you from continuing and you shook your head apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.” 

The man in front of you smirked, sinister and perverse. His eyes darted between your own while you trembled, close to breaking a sweat. “You can call me Bucky, sweetheart,” he replied, smoothly. 

Murmurs and quiet chatter from the rest of Bucky’s friends picked up while he took you in, his eyes clinging to the bare skin of your thighs, barely covered by your cheer skirt. 

You began to introduce yourself, too. “My name is—“ 

“Oh, I know who you are.” The corner of his lips curled up while he dragged his eyes lazily up your body. “I’ve seen how you move. The twirls and spins and shit, lookin’ all cute.”  

“Y-You have?” you asked in shock, surprised to find he was already familiar with you. 

“Mm, I’ve heard all about you.” He nodded, before cocking his head behind him. To your surprise, you looked and found your squad mate, Wanda, who threw you a sly wink. Your attention was brought back to Bucky, gliding his pierced tongue across his pearly white teeth. “A cute bunny showing off her tricks is kinda hard to miss.” 

His presence was all too intimidating, but one of the sweetest addictions you knew would give you an all time high. You couldn’t keep still, switching your weight between you feet as subtly as you could possibly manage. Opening your mouth, you readied yourself to respond until Bucky’s eyes flicked to your side. 

An all too out of breath Sharon, weary eyed and scary looking stormed towards you. Uncaring for your new friend, she stood in front of him, blocking his view while her hands grasped your upper arms to check you over. “Sweetie! Are you okay?” 

The strenuous effort to tear your eyes away from Bucky was almost impossible. “Mhm,” you mumbled noncommittally, finally able to bring your gaze to Sharon. “I’m okay.”

Leaning to the side, Bucky caught your eyes once again as he asked. “Will you be workin’, sweetheart?”

Confusion fogged up your mind, disorientated as your eyes played tennis between him and your best friend. “I’m sorry?”

“The kissing booth.” He reiterated, standing straight to pluck the cigarette tucked behind his ear. Those damned eyes never left you while he placed it between his lips and grabbed a light from his back jean pocket. “Will you be workin’ it?” 

“Oh!” You shook your head, trying to get out of your daze as he lit his cigarette. “I—um—I don’t know. I don’t think so. Technically?” Nerves made you ramble on. “I’m sort of working—but I won’t be near the booth and—”

Stepping forward, Bucky gently pushed Sharon out the way. “Hey!” she huffed, glaring at him. But he ignored her in favour of closing the distance between the two of you.  

He placed his thumb over your lips, effectively silencing you as he took a drag of his smoke and blew it out to the side of you with a smirk. “You’ll be there, Bunny.” Your eyes fluttered when he chucked your chin and winked. “Make sure of it and you won’t regret it.”

Struggling to come down from floating in the clouds, you almost whined as he teased his finger along your neck when he stepped back — his chilled rings lit your nerves on fire. You stared hopelessly after him as he started to walk backwards away from you to his friends.  

“I’ll bring some of these fuckers too!” he shouted over the growing distance between you, gracing you with one last grin. “Good for business and all.” 

You sighed, a love-sickening one that caused your friend to roll her eyes. Sharon clicked her fingers in your face, snapping you out of your haze. “Sweets!” 

You shook your head and your hooded eyes darted over to her. “Huh?” 

Sharon grabbed your shoulders, a firm scolding ready on her lips. “Listen to me,” she implored. “You need to stay away from him. He’s bad news.” 

You swallowed, unable to help the flicker of your eyes back to Bucky, watching as he threw his head back while he laughed, his full head of long hair framing his face beautifully. 

Sharonl cleared her throat pointedly and you snapped back to her, a guilty expression to your features. “Okay?” she reiterated. 

You begrudgingly nodded, and she sighed, seemingly appeased for now. Looping her arms through yours, she pulled you away and began to speak about your fundraiser once more. 

When once, incessant talk and arrangement of the kissing booth would have spilled from your lips, you held quiet; basking in whatever the hell had just happened. 

It was impossible to stop yourself from looking over your shoulder once more. To catch a final peek of Bucky, and your heart jumped as you caught his steel eyes already focused on you. Glancing back to Sharon, she was in her own world, already deep into discussion about decorations. 

Discreetly, you turned around, happy to find Bucky’s gaze still reciprocated and so you waved, small enough to not catch your friend’s attention. You held back a squeal, fighting to stave off the bubble in your throat that was desperate to escape when he brought his inked hand up to his mouth and blew you a kiss. 

It was a couple of days later while you were grabbing your books for your next class when you next saw Bucky. Earlier than expected but not at all in the way you imagined. 

You were at your locker, reaching to the back for that one annoying book that always seemed to hide from you. Your back was turned to the busy corridors, other students passing by as your fingertips ghosted along the textbook you needed when the feel of someone’s hand groping your ass caused you to jump in fright. 

Spinning around in shock, you came face to face with an all too pleased Tony Stark — the school’s rich playboy. “Hey, sweet cheeks.” 

The sleazy grin he donned made you feel queasy, but to avoid confrontation, you instead laughed nervously, hiding your discomfort. “Um, h-hi, Tony.”

He leaned his arm over your head against the lockers, trapping you in with no way to escape. “How haven’t I noticed you before, hm? Nothing better than some fresh meat on the cheerleading team.” 

Beginning to squirm, you shifted away as best as you could with hardly any distance between you — the unease you felt clear from your expression. “Excuse me—I’m sorry—you’re just—a little too close—“ 

“Let me take you out tonight,” he interrupted, careless to your lack of comfortability. “I’ll show you a real good time.” 

Alarm bells started to ring in your head. The fact that he had touched you without permission in such a crowded place and continued to ignore your requests unsettled you deeply. 

You looked around frantically, trying to silently scream for help. But no one batted an eyelid to your situation.

“Tony,” you quietly said, not wanting to cause a scene. “I’m not interested and I’ve really got to go—“

“Don’t be a prude, babe.” A lump tightened in your throat as Tony pawed at your waist, his clammy fingers digging into you harshly. “It’s not a good look on you.” 

Fear clouded your ability to shout out. Sharon wasn’t there to be your knight in shining armor like usual and you clawed down your cries as best as you could. To your dismay, tears began to gather over your waterline. “Please. Just—just move back and we can talk—“ 

“It’s okay,” he whispered against your neck. “Just say yes and I’ll take care of you.” 

Closing your eyes tight, you willed for him to leave you alone, your fingernails digging into your palms so hard they created indents into your skin. His breath against your neck made you desperately want to crawl out of your skin, his unwanted touch and proximity more of a burden than a compliment. 

You were rendered useless, weak. His heavy weight pinned you down to the lockers and left you unmoving. Overwhelmed, your breathing started to become erratic, panicked and just as you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, Tony’s presence disappeared and the air rushed back to your lungs. 

A loud commotion sounded on the other side of the hallway, but the blur of it all was disabling. It took you a while to gather the courage to squint your eyes open and once your vision became clear, you gasped at the sight of Bucky slamming Tony against the other side of the lockers, holding him up by his shirt with an unparalleled fury in his darkened eyes. 

“B-Barnes!” Tony squeaked in shock. “Heyy there, take it easy big guy—“ 

Bucky jolted him brutally another time. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’ to her?” he growled, venom in his voice and a tone that held no room for humour. 

Tony laughed, apprehensively. “C’mon man, we were just having some fun.”

Disgust was clearly visible on Bucky’s face as he reeled back, only serving to make him angrier. “Fun?” he scoffed. “You think it’s fun bein’ a fuckin’ creep? She told you no.” 

Soon enough, a mob of students had gathered around the commotion, filming with their phones and whispering amongst themselves in anticipation for a fight. 

You watched as Tony’s cheeks flared red, the embarrassment of being so easily overpowered by Bucky in front of the whole school paralysing him when his eyes suddenly shot to you, a vein bulging from his forehead. 

You cowered back as much as possible, covering your body with your arms while he spat, “Are you fucking kidding me? She—she wants it! Look at her! The bitch is practically begging for it in that skirt.” 

There was a stilted pause, a deathly quiet over the hallway before a chilling laugh echoed from Bucky. “You’re gonna fuckin’ regret that.” 

A flock of shouts and cheers bounced off the lockers as Bucky threw Tony to the ground. Without remorse, he grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt before he tried to desperately crawl away and pummeled him to the floor with a single punch, the silver rings on his fingers cutting the skin of Tony’s cheek and smothering blood over his face. 

You winced as you heard Tony’s pleas for mercy as Bucky continued to lay into him. The sight should have worried you — Sharon’s previous warnings clear as day in your head — but your thighs rubbed together instead, an ache between them leaving you equal parts aroused and concerned.

The one sided fight seemed to be over within seconds. Bucky stopped, letting Tony flop to the floor, gifted with an instantaneous black eye and most likely broken nose. 

Stepping over his body, Bucky squatted down, a grave warning grunted as his chest rose and fell with adrenaline. “If you ever talk about Bunny like that again, or even look at her.” He paused, laughing sadistically. “Who am I fuckin’ kiddin’? If you dare breathe the same air as her again, I won’t be so fuckin’ kind next time.” The humour died from his tone within seconds. “Are we clear?” 

When he didn’t hear a response from Tony, he forcefully kicked his boot into the side of his ribs. “I said, are we clear?”

“Y-Yes! Yes—please—we’re clear!” Tony coughed out a quick reply, the pain in his voice evident. 

Satisfied, Bucky swept his long hair back from his face and stood up. He caught his breath for a moment, hands on his hips as the students watched on, just as mesmerised as you. 

But he paid them no attention as he suddenly brought his gaze over to your direction. He had no trouble finding you as he towered over the crowd and they immediately parted the way for him while he strode towards you. 

You held your breath when he reached you and immediately cradled your face with his hands — his delicacy while he handled you compared to Tony stunned you. He wiped the remaining tears away with his thumbs as he looked at you with concern. “Angel, are you okay?”

It took you a while to respond, still reeling from the previous events. “I—I think so,” you stuttered, though not from fear of Tony anymore. 

Bucky’s hands gently fell down to your waist, the cutout of your uniform allowing him to touch your bare skin. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure he—“

As he lightly squeezed your hips, you inhaled sharply, a shoot of pain radiating through your body. 

Bucky instantly stopped in his tracks and quickly lifted his hands, only to find bruises in the shape of fingertips staining your skin. A dark cloud fell over his cerulean eyes. “That fucker,” he growled, turning to shoot daggers at Tony’s form still crouched on the floor. “I’m gonna kill him.” 

Before Bucky could lunge back at him, you grabbed at his arms, a desperate need to keep him close. “No!” you cried, waiting until he whipped his head back round to you as you pleaded, “Please stay with me.”

His gaze flicked back to your bruise, confliction locking up his muscles. “Bunny, he fuckin’ marked you. No way am I lettin’ him get away with that shit—“

You grabbed his hand and began dragging him along, away from everyone still lingering and staring at the two of you. “Please, Bucky?” 

The fury dissolved from his features, your sweet request too difficult to ignore. “Okay,” he sighed, following you blindly as you led him into an empty storage closet. 

Locking the door behind you, you turned the light switch on. There was limited proximity between you in the tight space, but Bucky seemed to have no qualms being so close to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, diverting your eyes away from him and fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. 

You didn’t see the confusion on Bucky’s face, how perplexed he was for your apology. “Bunny,” he called for you, waiting until you looked at him. “What in the fuck have you got to be sorry for?” 

Your breaths started to come in heavy, lips trembling as you tried to hold your tears back. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—to cause a fight,” you sniffled. “I shouldn’t have been wearing my uniform and—“ 

“Hey,” Bucky cut you off, stern and resolute. His fingers sweeped your hair out of your face gently. “You did absolutely nothin’ wrong, you hear me?”

Your eyes darted down, however he was quick to catch your chin with his forefinger and thumb. “Look at me.”

With glassy eyes, you did just that, reluctant but submissive to his order. 

Bucky wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, his thumb running back and forth soothingly, “Don’t you ever apologise for that shit.” His blue eyes bore into your soul. “I beat the shit out of that fucker because he deserved it. No one talks to you like that and gets away with it. You understand, baby?” 

Timidly, you nodded your head. “Mhm.”

“I mean it.” He reiterated, determined to make you see sense. 

You weren’t convinced, Bucky could tell. Delicately, he smoothed his free hand over your waist. “Besides,” he shrugged his shoulders, a teasing smile crawling onto his face. “My Bunny looks fuckin’ hot in her uniform.” 

Heat began to creep up your neck and a nervous giggle escaped from your lips. The anxious knot that had built in your stomach slowly began to unravel in Bucky’s presence. 

“There she is.” He stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. “C’mon, sweetheart you’ve gotta know how fuckin’ good you look in that outfit, waving your pom poms and puttin’ on a show.”

“You’ve watched me?” Your breathing picked up. 

“Course I fuckin’ have. Knew you were somethin’ special when Wanda mentioned you.” 

You relaxed into his hold, melting from his touch. However, from the corner of your eye, a flicker of dark red running down from his hand down to his wrist caught your attention. 

You gasped, grabbing his hand and turning it to get a better look at the damage to his knuckles. “Bucky! You’re bleeding!” 

He raised his eyebrows, a little surprised to see he was in fact bleeding. Laughing it off, he tried to ease your worries. “Ah sweetheart—it’s nothin’. Don’t even worry about it—“

“Like hell I won’t!” The unexpected fire in your voice stunned Bucky as his eyebrows rose in shock. Thinking on your toes, you spun around towards the shelves. “Let me find something.” 

While you were busy rummaging through storage boxes, you missed the heated glint in his eyes and the subtle squeeze of his own dick through his denim pants. 

You searched until you found an unopened pack of bandages along with some ointment cream. Softly, you took his hand over to the old sink in the corner and began washing the dried up blood staining his skin. 

Bucky watched intently while you gently cleaned him up, your tongue stuck out between your lips as you wrapped the bandage around his knuckles in concentration. 

“There. Good as new.” You smiled happily with your work and without thinking, you carefully lifted his damaged hand up to your lips to kiss over the bandage. 

The realisation of how bold your action was finally caught up to you. With caution, your eyes flitted up expecting the worst. However, your mouth slightly dropped open as you noticed the wicked glint in his eyes while he stared you down like a wolf. “You’re just precious, ain’t you, angel?” 

You didn’t have the chance to respond as Bucky spun you around and cornered you against the wall. You should have felt as vulnerable as you did with Tony, but you only whimpered with curious delight as tingles shot down your spine. 

Your noses bumped together when Bucky moved in even closer, lips so close to touching. “This okay, Bunny?” 

Fighting off a shudder, you quickly nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

He chuckled breathily. “I haven’t stopped fuckin’ thinking about you.” 

Common sense seemed so far from reality as you closed your eyes and rested your head back against the wall. His scent dizzied you, his whole presence threw you for a loop. How the hell had he gotten into your system in such a short span of time? 

“You know I’d kill anyone who tried to touch you like that don’t you, baby?” Your fingers tangled into the lapels of Bucky’s leather jacket while his soft lips teased yours. “No one else can have you. You were mine since I laid eyes on you.” 

“Oh—Bucky.” Just as wrecked as you, he began to lean in and you closed your eyes in anticipation for his kiss. All he had to do was push forward, connect the remaining distance and claim you. 

But to your luck, the school bell for the beginning of class rang loud through the hallway. Sense came back to you then. Opening your eyes, you quickly untangled yourself out of Bucky’s hold. 

You half-expected him to be annoyed, but instead he had the biggest grin on his face, almost predatory. 

Skittishly you started to walk backwards towards the exit of the storage closet. “I—um,” you began. “I need to go—go to my class.” 

Bucky smirked even wider while he combed his ringed fingers through his messy hair and then slid his hands into his pockets. “Mhm,” he mumbled devilishly. 

“I’ll s-see you around?” You offered, lamely while you fumbled with the handle of the door. Your nerves built even higher when he started to stalk towards you and the simple task of opening the door seemed impossible. 

“You sure will, Bunny.” Bucky gained closer, a couple of steps away from you when you finally managed to swing the door open with urgency.

Hurriedly, you excited the closet, breathing heavily. But you shrieked as you collided into another person. Turning around to apologise, your words died on your tongue when you found the person you had bumped into was none other than Sharon. 

“Sweets?” she asked, instantly concerned at your flustered state. “What’s wrong? Did something happen—“ 

Then, her eyes glanced behind you, a scowl appearing on her face while a disheveled Bucky exited the same closet you just stumbled out of. 

You gulped as her fierce gaze shot to you. “I can explain.” 

“We’re having a serious talk.” Once again, Sharon dragged you away from Bucky and you fought to keep up to pace with her. 

You felt like a child being pulled away from their favourite toy. Bucky was trouble, that much you knew. But of course, you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder — a common occurrence it seemed — and you also couldn’t help the grin that crept onto your face as you watched him wiggle his fingers at you in goodbye with a wink. 

Trouble had never looked better — with horns and a tail that could make heaven’s most loyal angel want to sin. 

[herweirdass]

a request for Joe where reader buys him flowers

the offseason was a rare moment of calm in joe burrow’s otherwise chaotic life. the constant grind of practices, games, and media appearances was replaced with quiet mornings, lazy afternoons, and moments he could actually share with you.

you loved surprising joe, and today was no exception. it had been a particularly tough week for him—rehab sessions for a nagging injury and endless meetings about next season’s game plan. you wanted to remind him that he was more than just the cincinnati bengals’ quarterback.

so, you walked into his apartment with a bouquet of sunflowers and white lilies—bright, cheerful, and just a little unexpected, much like your relationship.

joe was sprawled on the couch, his glasses perched on his nose as he read a book. he glanced up when he heard the door, his expression softening when he saw you. “hey,” he said, setting the book aside. “what’s this?”

you grinned, holding out the bouquet. “these are for you.”

his brows knit together in confusion. “flowers? for me?”

“yes, for you,” you said, laughing at his bewildered expression. “why not? you deserve flowers too, joe.”

he stood, walking over to take the bouquet from your hands. his fingers brushed yours, and you noticed the faint blush creeping up his neck. “i don’t think anyone’s ever bought me flowers before.”

“well, it’s about time someone did,” you teased, watching as he brought the bouquet closer, his nose brushing against the petals. “do you like them?”

he looked at you, his lips curving into that boyish smile you loved so much. “yeah. they’re perfect. thank you.”

you followed him into the kitchen as he rummaged around for a vase. once he’d arranged the flowers, he set them on the counter, taking a step back to admire them. “you know,” he said, turning to you, “i think i like this. being spoiled by you.”

“oh, do you now?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

he smirked, pulling you into his arms. “yeah. but don’t think you’re off the hook. i’ve got some surprises planned for you too.”

“oh, i’m sure you do,” you said, resting your head against his chest.

joe pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft. “thank you for this, really. it’s a small thing, but it means a lot.”

you tilted your head up to look at him. “you’re always giving so much of yourself to everyone else. i just wanted to give something back to you.”

he didn’t say anything, just held you a little tighter. and as the sunflowers and lilies filled the room with their bright, fresh scent, you knew that sometimes, it was the smallest gestures that meant the most.

[blog-o-meter]

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

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

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

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

word count: 25,005

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

Part 1 | Part 2

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

Over the next few days, the tension only grew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And God help me, he wasn’t wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What did I want? What would make me happy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I let him.

I let him because I was angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll lose everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I avoided him. I avoided everyone.

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

And then there was Valerie.

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pull it together,” I whispered to myself.

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

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

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nicholas, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you,” I mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” my mom whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Inside Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s Explosive Breakup”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Underwear, too?” he hummed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[zylusmusings]

With backs facing each other, this is truly the furthest she has ever been from Toji. And while she's yearning for a warm and heavy arm to coil around her waist (the only way she knows to fall asleep), the residual anger from the fight after dinner stops her from moving any closer. The feeling has yet to dispel even two full hours of silence, none of this pair of lovers seem to be caving in just yet.

As great as a partner Toji is, he is still human and surely he'd say the same about her two. Two people do not have to be perfect to fall in love.

Tonight is an exemplar of the fact. Stubborn as mules, the two are, but still so suffocatingly in love with one another that there isn't a sleeping soul in the bedroom at the moment due to this foreign change in their nightly routine cuddles. Despite the comfortable blankets and fluffy pillows, the thermostat set just right and the muffled pitter patters of the night rainfall, none of them are able to fall asleep. An insomniac could be lulled right asleep tonight but she and Toji are both wide awake, yet pretending (and failing miserably) at falling asleep. Egos too proud and just as awake, screaming at the other, "I do not care that I cannot feel your breath right on my skin, that your warmth is the only thing that can calm my mind, that my heart is begging you to please give in and embrace me first."

45 minutes after they both had wordlessly gotten under the covers, grumpy expressions dressing their faces and tensions still as high as ever, she is still tossing and turning. And if not having her in his arms isn't enough to keep him awake, her body tossing and turning under the sheets every five minutes most definitely is. Paired with her quiet huffs of frustrations, Toji is more than well aware now that she hasn't gotten a blink of sleep either. They have five hours before the alarm goes off, and as the seconds continue to pass, it serves as a warning for these two with an eight hour workday tomorrow. Toji takes heed of this warning, yet his pettiness wins another battle of this tug of war.

She, however, has her patience running thin. As it grows thinner, her yearning grows stronger and she knows she's only a couple seconds before snapping... and she snaps ever so gently.

Toji has been unmoving, the complete opposite from her, so her pride makes the hopeful assumption that he has fallen fast asleep. Conflicted, she frowns as she lays on her back for the first tonight, her cheek pressed against the pillow to face him. How could he sleep so peacefully without holding her, yet she struggles wholeheartedly. He is so near, yet so far away.

Under the dim light, courtesy of the moon and stars peeking through the windows, her eyes map out every crevice of his back muscles. The longing only grows - she practically salivates at the familiar warmth she knows his body brings, how she wishes she could just wrap her arms and legs around him from behind like a koala, just like she always does on days when he's exhausted from a long day of work and all he wants is the warmth of her chest pressed against his back.

She struggles to make a decision between staying put and clinging onto him, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip as she deliberates. She then decides to find the balance between the two - simply hooking her pinky into the elastic of the back of his sweatpants. It isn't much, yet the tiny skinship from the area where their skin meet relaxes her tense shoulders immediately.

Toji takes the small win.

Grunting, he turns around to face her. In a flash, he turns her on her side and pulls her body flush against his. His arm is tight around her waist, and any other person would find it suffocating but ironically, she finds that it liberates her from distress. She only manages to get the first syllable of his name out in a yelp, before he hushes her.

"Sleep, ma. We'll fight tomorrow morning," the burly man speaks into her hair. He takes the opportunity to inhale her scent, and for a moment he inwardly scolds himself - he let his own stubbornness starve himself of this? He hears her huff, her body tense again (as if she hadn't been the one to initiate contact in the first place).

"Couldn't fall asleep with all the sheets rustling, just go to sleep so we both can get some rest," Toji grumbles, but he has a smirk hidden in her hair. As a final act of rebellion (or so she thinks), she meekly responds, "We'll fight tomorrow." Contrasting her words, she tries to impossibly move closer to him, savouring and gobbling up every last piece of him that she can get before their anticipated fight tomorrow, when she'll have to pretend that she doesn't want to kiss her anger to death against his lips -- and honestly, Toji just the same. And as if it still isn't enough (it isn't) she turns around swiftly to bury her nose into his neck. She finally lets out the breath she's been holding back.

His smirk grows, enjoying every piece of affection she is giving him right now. But truthfully, Toji is just as starved and it's evident when he pulls her arms to wrap around his torso, but not before he slips them underneath his shirt.. just like she always does, skinship prioritised.

With bellies finally satiated by mutual embrace and and the familiar scent of the other, they both yawn in unison, leaving them chuckling and giggling tiredly. "Not so angry anymore hm, mama?" He snickers, pushing his luck but immediately pressing a kiss to her head as if to soothe her anger from bubbling again.

"Shut up. We're still fighting tomorrow."

"Yes, we are. I still love you, though."

"I love you too, Toji."

[heliosunny]

YANDERE!SAE x READER

And so... he's changed Sae was a genius. You’d known it all along. Your (once) friend was a prodigy in soccer. You’d marvel at how effortlessly he made his goals. But life, as it often does, pulled you away. Your parents' work demanded relocation, and you left without so much as a goodbye.

You often thought back to those days, replaying the memories in your mind. He was distant, never chatty, but you still tried. Compliments, small gifts like sweets, you always hoped to get through to him. Most times, he'd just hand them off to his younger brother, Rin. You convinced yourself he wouldn’t miss you. You were just a face in the audience, after all.

Yet Sae noticed.

At first, he thought you might’ve been sick or busy. You never missed a game before. He told himself you’d show up at the next match. But when his mother mentioned over dinner that your family had moved, his world stilled.

When? Why? And why hadn’t you told him?

He told himself it didn’t matter. There was no time to dwell on things outside soccer. Yet the gnawing ache in his chest refused to leave. He hated himself for how easily your memory began to fade. He didn’t want to forget. He promised himself that one day, he’d find you again.

-----------

Years later, standing in a packed stadium, Sae’s sharp teal eyes scanned the crowd. Then he saw you. Older, more composed, but undeniably you.

“There you are, Y/n L/n.”

The sound of his voice made your blood run cold. Your best friend, Hana, practically screamed beside you, overwhelmed by the sight of the famous Sae Itoshi addressing you.

He didn’t waste time. The crowd dispersed, and he cornered you. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

“Explain yourself.” he demanded.

“What?” you replied, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m just here because my friend dragged me along.”

His jaw clenched. “You left without saying a word. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Sae, I was a kid. My family had to move for work. What was I supposed to do? And you-” You pointed at him. “You barely acknowledged me back then! What did it matter if I was there or not?”

“It mattered!” he hissed, stepping closer. “You mattered. You still matter.”

You shook your head, overwhelmed. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me, but I have my own life now. Just… let it go.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Sae frozen in place. How could you be so indifferent? Didn’t you see how much he’d changed, how much he’d suffered... all because of you?

---------- Later that night, Hana regretted letting you drink so much. You slumped over the table, utterly unconscious. “I shouldn’t have let you drink, idiot!” she muttered, trying to shake you awake.

“Need some help?” a familiar voice asked.

Hana turned to see Sae standing there, his teal eyes locking onto you like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Oh! Sae Itoshi, right?” Hana stammered, momentarily starstruck. “Um, my friend’s had a bit too much to drink…”

“I’ll take her,” Sae said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Oh, but-”

“I’ve known her for years,” he interrupted. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Before Hana could protest, Sae had you slung over his shoulder. His grip was possessive, and his gaze was cold as he turned away. ---------- When you woke up, your head pounded like a drum. You blinked, taking in your unfamiliar surroundings. It wasn’t your apartment. The room was too pristine, too impersonal.

Panic set in as you sat up, only to find Sae sitting in a chair by the door, watching you.

“Sae?” you croaked. “Where am I? What’s going on?”

“You’re safe,” he said simply. “With me.”

Your heart raced. “What? Sae, I need to go home-”

“This is your home now.” His calm tone was more chilling than any shout. “You won’t leave me again.”

You stared at him, horrified. “Sae, this isn’t funny. Take me home.”

He stood and walked over, his shadow looming over you. “I don’t think you understand, Y/n. You’re the reason I kept going. Every match, every goal—I did it all for you. And now, I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Not your parents, not your friends, no one.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you realized the depth of his obsession. “Sae… you’re scaring me.”

His expression softened, but his eyes remained unnervingly intense. “You don’t need to be scared. I’ll take care of everything. You’ll never have to leave again.”

As he reached out to touch your face, you flinched, but there was nowhere to run. The door was locked, and the man you once called a friend had become someone you barely recognized.

And so, Sae Itoshi had changed- but not in the way you’d hoped.

[tarareindeer]

Puppy love...

{fem reader: sad,hopless,just wants to cry,pookie pie}

The soft glow of the Last Drop’s lanterns cast long shadows across the bar, the low hum of chatter filling the room as workers trickled in after another tough day in the mines. You wiped a glass without thinking, your gaze drifting toward the big, broad-shouldered man at the center of it all. Vander. He stood out without even trying—his laugh carried over the noise, his presence pulling everyone’s attention like a magnet. Especially hers.

Felicia leaned against the counter like she owned the place, her hair pulled back and streaks of coal smudging her face from the mines. Even covered in soot, she looked amazing, her smile practically lighting up the space between her and Vander. He leaned closer when she spoke, completely focused on her. Your chest tightened, a familiar ache rising up.

“Careful, you’re gonna crack that glass in half,” a dry voice teased from your right. Silco slipped onto a stool, his sharp mismatched eyes flicking from the glass in your hands to your face. “You’ve been scrubbing that thing like it owes you money.”

You shot him a glare and loosened your grip. “Mind your business, Silco.”

“Oh, but your business is way more interesting than mine,” he said with a smirk. He nodded toward Vander and Felicia, his expression almost amused. “I’ve been watching this little drama for years. Honestly, I’m impressed at how stubborn you are.”

Heat rose to your face, and you turned away, setting the glass down harder than you meant to. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Silco let out a quiet laugh. “Sure you don’t. Just like you haven’t been staring at Vander like he’s the sun and you’re a moth.”

You bristled, but his words cut too close to ignore. Vander had been everything to you for as long as you could remember. As kids, he’d been the one to pick you up when you fell, his steady hands and warm smile keeping you grounded. Back then, you’d dreamed that one day, he’d see you as more than a friend. But now, with Felicia…

“He’s not blind, you know,” Silco said, his voice softer than before. “He sees her. And he sees you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, he sees me as the maid who cleans up his bar. Meanwhile, Felicia walks in covered in coal dust, and he looks at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“You think she’s the reason this place is still standing?” Silco’s tone grew sharper, irritation creeping in. “You think Vander could’ve made it this far without you holding things together behind the scenes?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in his voice. Silco wasn’t exactly known for heartfelt moments. He usually stuck to sarcasm and cold observations, but now, his mismatched eyes had a flicker of something real in them.

“Vander cares about you,” he said firmly. “He’s just too thick-headed to realize how much. And Felicia?” He glanced at the pair, his lip curling slightly. “She’s a storm. Bright, loud, and gone before you know it.”

You followed his gaze, watching Felicia laugh at something Vander said, her hand brushing his arm. The ache in your chest grew sharper, but Silco’s words planted a small seed of hope. Could he be right? Could you mean more to Vander than you thought?

Before you could think too much about it, Vander’s voice cut through the noise. “Hey, you alright over there?”

Your head snapped up, and you realized he was looking at you, his brow creased in concern. Felicia glanced over too, her expression hard to read.

“Fine,” you called back, forcing a smile. “Just busy.”

“Take a break,” Vander said, his tone firm but kind. “You’ve been working hard enough.”

Your heart fluttered, despite everything. You nodded, setting your rag aside and slipping into the back room to catch your breath. As the door swung shut, Silco’s voice echoed in your mind.

“He sees you.”

That night, you found out Felicia had been keeping a secret. Over a round of drinks, she revealed she was in a relationship with one of her coworkers and that she was expecting a baby. The news hit like a bolt of lightning, but you couldn’t deny the wave of relief that followed. Vander had been infatuated with her, but this revelation might change things. Still, you couldn’t shake the heaviness in your chest.

Later, as the bar emptied out and quiet settled over the Last Drop, you caught sight of Vander slipping upstairs with a woman you didn’t recognize. She was beautiful, confident, and the way he leaned into her made your stomach twist. Your heart shattered as you watched them disappear into the shadows.

The ache was unbearable. You retreated to the storage room, your shaking hands finding one of Vander’s hidden bottles of liquor. Unscrewing the cap, you didn’t bother with a glass, taking long, burning gulps straight from the bottle. The alcohol hit fast, and soon you were slumped against the wall, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed quietly in the empty bar.

“Drinking yourself into oblivion, are we?” Silco’s voice cut through the silence. You looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe, his sharp eyes fixed on you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. Concern, maybe.

“Go away,” you muttered, your voice hoarse.

He didn’t move. Instead, he walked over, crouching down in front of you. “You’re a mess,” he said bluntly, but there was no malice in his tone. “And yet, you’re still here. That says something, doesn’t it?”

You wiped at your face, glaring at him. “What the hell do you want, Silco?”

“To remind you that wallowing won’t fix anything,” he replied. “You’re stronger than this. And if Vander can’t see that, then he’s more of an idiot than I thought.”

His words stung, but they also lit a small fire inside you. You looked away, clutching the bottle tightly. “What do you care?”

Silco stood, brushing off his coat. “I don’t, really. But someone needs to pull you out of this pit you’ve dug yourself into.” He paused, glancing back as he headed for the door. “You’re worth more than being someone’s shadow. Remember that.”

As the door swung shut behind him, you sat in silence, his words echoing in your mind. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop hoping for something that would never be and start seeing yourself the way Silco did: as someone who mattered.

The next morning, the Last Drop was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic swish of your rag against the bar’s stained wood. The lanterns were dim, the smell of stale beer and smoke lingering in the air. You worked methodically, scrubbing away remnants of the night before, though your hands trembled slightly from a hangover and too many tears shed. Your maid dress was worse for wear, the hem torn and the fabric stained from years of hard work—a far cry from anything Felicia would wear.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs made your stomach twist. Vander was coming down, his presence as commanding as ever even in the early light. You didn’t look up, focusing intently on a particularly stubborn stain on the counter. Maybe if you ignored him, he’d just…leave.

“Mornin’,” his deep voice rumbled, thick with sleep. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, glancing around before his eyes landed on you. “Didn’t think anyone would be up this early.”

You muttered something noncommittal, refusing to meet his gaze. Your hands worked faster, scrubbing the same spot over and over as if your life depended on it. The weight of his stare was unbearable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Not after last night.

Vander hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but the moment stretched too long. Finally, he moved past you, heading for the back room. As the door swung shut behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your heart ached, but at least you’d avoided him. For now.

Time passed, and you found yourself slipping further into solitude. You avoided Vander whenever possible, tired of the constant ache in your chest. The effort of pretending everything was fine became too much, and instead, you leaned on Silco. What started as casual chats evolved into late-night talks about life, frustrations, and shared interests. He had a sharp mind and a dark sense of humor that matched your own, and for once, you felt like someone truly understood you.

One afternoon, armed with your usual cleaning supplies, you ventured into Vander’s room. The smell of leather and whiskey greeted you, the space feeling too personal and too painful all at once. You set to work, wiping down surfaces and straightening the disheveled bed. That’s when you saw it—a faint trace of perfume on the sheets, an unfamiliar bracelet left on the nightstand. Your heart sank as the pieces fell into place.

The evidence was undeniable. Vander had been bringing women here, sharing with them what you had only dared to dream of. Your hands trembled as you clutched the cleaning rag, your mind a whirlwind of anger, heartbreak, and resignation. The room blurred around you as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing yourself to keep working. After all, what else could you do?

When you finally finished, the room looked pristine, but your heart felt more battered than ever. You closed the door softly behind you, retreating to the quiet sanctuary of the bar below, where Silco was waiting with his usual knowing gaze.

Vander had started to notice. Your avoidance wasn’t subtle, and the distance you kept from him gnawed at his thoughts. He tried to brush it off at first, chalking it up to long workdays or bad moods, but the silence lingered. Finally, one evening as Silco leaned casually at the bar, Vander cornered him.

"What’s going on with her?" Vander’s tone was gruff, but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes. "She’s been…different lately. Avoiding me. Did I do something?"

Silco smirked, swirling the drink in his hand. "You mean, did you finally push her too far?" He tilted his head, watching Vander closely. "She’s tired, old friend. And maybe she’s realizing some things aren’t worth chasing."

Vander frowned, leaning heavily on the counter. "I don’t understand."

"You wouldn’t," Silco said dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But maybe you should pay attention for once. She’s been carrying more than just the weight of this bar. And it’s not something I can explain for her."

[will do part 2 with{N$FW},when likes reaches over 100]

[jinnie-ret]

take a chance with me

lee know x reader

genre: mostly fluff, teeny angst

content warnings: one mention of a stroke (it's not an actual one just Minho malfunctioning lol)

word count: 1.8k

summary: lee know was too scared to express his feelings - lucky you were there to convince him his feelings were mutual

a/n: Umm... hi, lol. It's been a while since I've posted. Hopefully this is a nice surprise hehe

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Waking up early each morning and leaving your home at 06:30am would seem like a chore to most people. For you? It was incredibly rewarding to enter the workplace, opening up the front office for the day. Your friends had questioned you wondering how you did it, but helping your parents manage a cat rescue home soothed a part of your soul you didn't know you needed healing, particularly when dreaming of becoming an astronaut, a bus driver or a world famous actor as a child.

Though the biting winds sent a chill through your bones, the sun shone down upon you, rays reflecting off of the icy pavements on your route to work. The weather really couldn't make it's mind up recently. It reminded you of someone.

"Minho, hi! You're early!" you grinned, poking your head out of your scarf that you had wrapped securely around your neck. He seemed to brighten your day even further, as cheesy as it sounded. It was the way he bantered with you, back and forth, exciting you for what witty statement he'd come out with next.

"Visitor's Day, remember?" Minho simply commented, a cloud of air escaping his mouth as his teeth chattered, hands shoved deeply into his coat pockets.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" your eyebrows furrowed in concern, your own hands digging around your pockets for the schedule of the day. It was a fortnightly occurrence in which you'd accept visitors looking around, hoping to re-home the cats that deserved a place to feel safe, loved and looked after. In fact, it was how you met Minho.

Two years ago was when he first set foot into the establishment, quiet, demure and unfazed. That was, until he was led to the small huts outside where the cats resided. Sneaking out some treats from his pocket, he fed a gorgeous boy he soon named Dori, feeling an instant attachment (the two of them). He tried to find his way back inside, ready to sign some adoption papers, when he stumbled into what he thought was merely a stack of boxes, not initially realising that you were behind them and trying to haul them inside on your own.

"I'm so sorry!" you had gasped apologetically, immediately grabbing a broom to the side and sweeping the rogue pieces of kibble that had escaped it's confines.

"Eh, don't worry," Minho shrugged, trying to play it cool although he couldn't stop himself from giving you a quick scan from head to toe in case he had hurt you, "at least they're not being starved, it's reassuring," he added on, laughing through his nose as he straightened up the boxes of cat food.

"You should see Gingy, he's a chonky boy," you jokes, brushing your hair out of your face and glancing up at him. All you could think was, and later you berated yourself for it, but the cat that got to go home with this one was certainly lucky.

"Oh? What if he heard that?" Minho teases, wondering if you'd feign the dramatics, or even get flustered at the idea.

"He knows," you shake your head and chuckle, making a smarter decision now in only grabbing one box.

"Oh, sorry did you need any-"

"Did you want some help with-"

Comically, you both fell silent simultaneously, feeling awkward that you had spoken over and cut off each other at the same time.

"I'll grab a box," Minho speaks up, moving to stand beside you.

"Oh thank you! That's a great help, truly. I was just going to ask if you wanted those adoption papers," you practically beamed.

"How could you tell?"

"You've got some blue fluff on you. That's from Lilo's hut."

"Actually, his name is Dori."

And when you found out Minho had two other cats and the reasoning behind the name 'Dori', you melted instantly. On the spot. Like, literally on the floor had it not been for the rational part of your brain telling you to stop falling for a man you had just met. Minho's sweet Dori completed his little cat family, the soft, gentle trio of boys.

To say you were Minho's biggest advocate when he admitted to wanting to help out and work alongside you at the Cat Rescue, would be completely right. You had brought him straight to your parents, informing them of how knowledgeable and tender he was in interacting with the cats and the rest was history.

Although, that wasn't where this story ended.

"Did you also forget the key?" Minho snapped you out of your reverie.

"Huh? What- no, here," you grasped the key and eagerly gave it to Minho, unsure if your fingers would have the strength to unlock the door, locking up from the inhumanely cold temperatures.

"Ah, she did remember," Minho smirked, soon having to catch his balance after you impulsively shoved his shoulder a bit too hard with your own.

"Unlock the door, pudding boy," you joked, Minho rolling his eyes in response. He could never let you have the upper hand for too long, however.

"I prefer jagi," he batted his eyelashes at you in an over the top way, making you groan and cover your eyes as a form of protection. You loved it really, you just weren't sure on if you should show it.

Minho had told you many times before that you wore your heart on your sleeve. Whether it was you recklessly running into the middle of the road to save a kitten from being hit, or spending your savings on allowing a family the chance to adopt a cat into their lives, you acted upon your love for others. On the other hand, he knew he was too scared to show you how he really felt. Banter, jokes, 'fake' flirting was the perfect cover up to distract him from his feelings, as well as the ones he hadn't yet recognised you shared.

Oddly, there was an awkwardness in the air between the two of you by the end of the day. Perhaps it was the elderly pair who commented on your selflessness as a couple, or seeing many young partners enter and adopt their first pet together. It triggered emotions within you both that had remained hidden for too long. You weren't just good friends, but you were made for each other. The love of cats; the gentleness you exuded and he let slip more often than he'd like to admit and the ease in which you both took in pushing the others' buttons.

Minho always thought you were bolder than him.

"Do you ever think we'll find love, Minho?" you yawned, sweeping up the remnants of dirt that had escaped the many pairs of shoes that entered the home today.

"We?" Minho paused, his grip on the mop slipping ever so slightly before he regained his composure, "I'm not really searching."

Of course he wasn't, not when-

"But is that because you’ve already found it? I don’t want to be bold but-" you nearly scolded yourself for daring to speak when your mind was all over the place.

"That would shock me if you weren’t," Minho snorted, easily falling back into his natural self.

"I'm being real, right now, Min," you squeezed your eyes shuts, back facing him and not wanting to face rejection.

"That's good, here's me thinking you were an illusion all along-"

"Just take a chance, Minho! With me. I-if it doesn’t work out, then we’ll still be friends, we’ll figure it out," you glanced over at him cautiously. Whilst your words were rushed and fumbly, your actions were timid.

Minho's brain malfunctioned. Is this what it felt like to have a stroke? Did you just confess your love for him? Wasn't it just another bit of banter?

"We're friends?" he teased, in that tone he always used. It now felt like a painful reminder, that you'd never truly get through to him. Really, he was testing the waters, and masking it as usual.

"I wish you would just be honest with me," you sighed quietly, your posture slightly hunched. Minho didn't like that. He liked when you stood tall, confident, proud.

"About what? I haven’t lied about anything," Minho busied himself with mopping the floor in order to distract himself from you. As long as he could see the shine in the wooden flooring panning across the entrance of the home, it was enough to put the aside the guilt he felt when the sparkle in your eye dimmed ever so slightly.

The days seemed to drag on endlessly after the unspoken rejection from the guy you had been crushing on for years, now. He hadn't opened up with you in a while - that's the shop we're talking about, not Minho and his thoughts and feelings. He hadn't ever really done that with you, minus a couple of short, rare occasions. Your parents had noticed the slight dullness that seemed to tie the two of you together, it taking a lot of convincing from them to you to lead another Visitor's Day with Minho. The only convincing factor for you in that moment had been when you drifted off into your own thoughts, fading away from the lecture you were receiving and instead finding comfort in the fact that it would be a busy day. There would be no time to think when you were working.

But when it came to the end of both of your shifts? Too much time to think, to dwell, to ponder.

"Well, umm, bye," you nodded politely at him and robotically waved with how stiff you felt in looking at him. Yet it seemed to give ample opportunity for Minho to grab your hand and pull you back towards him before you could rush away, just like he had regrettably done all those evenings ago.

"Oh, what's this about?" you questioned, praying that your hands didn't start getting clammy simply from being so close to him in this way.

"We're going on a date," Minho firmly stated, but his words didn't match his actions, his eyes shyly trailing off to the side and the tops of his ears turning red. How endearing.

"No."

"No?!"

"You can look me in the eyes and say it."

Oh, yes, he had definitely gotten lucky with you. Even though his heart pounded in worry that you would reject him too and he would have been too late, he was able to look you in the eyes and throw a one liner right back at you.

"Hmm, maybe I change my mind," Minho shrugged, feigning a carelessness and dropping his hand from yours.

"Hey! Come on!" you pulled him back towards you, chest to chest, an intense amount of love pouring from both of your souls as you gazed into each others' eyes.

"I'm taking you on a date," Minho affirmed, poking your nose to startle you before you realised he too had been on another planet.

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tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @katzline @kiwihrt @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @2minstan @skzoologist @lovingchan @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria @theo4eve @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse

[defectivevillain]

unexpected patronage

pairing: Logan/Wade/Reader

The reader’s pronouns are he/him and he’s masculine intended. Otherwise, race is ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used.

summary: Wade pokes you and you flinch as his finger finds a hole in your shirt, from where Wolverine had grabbed you moments ago. “Sheesh, you practically hole-punched him, pookie.” He says to the man, who growls disapprovingly at the nickname.

You’re a bartender working the graveyard shift at Joe’s Diner. You’ve seen some strange people, but these two guys are by far the strangest…

word count: 3.8k | ao3 version

Warnings: canon-typical blood/violence/suggestive humor. Dogpool is referred to with it/its pronouns until the reader warms up to her. Expect lots of pet names and sexual humor, because it’s Wade.

author's notes: This fic is focused on Reader/Wade/Logan, and it’s explicitly romantic (nothing past making out). I know, this is rare for me. lol.

Also I know virtually nothing about the Deadpool & Wolverine movie, so this will be canon non-compliant. We’re going to pretend Joe’s Diner is just in NYC, lol.

You’ve been a bartender at Joe’s Diner for a bit now. Since you work the graveyard shift, you grow used to seeing a variety of people. Out of all the unique personalities and strange people you’ve met across the past few months, Wade takes the cake. 

The first few times you see him, he’s wearing a hood over his head, sun glasses, and a face mask. You promptly told him he looked very suspicious, to which he responded that it was ‘just his charm’. You had rolled your eyes and served him the drinks he wanted, figuring he didn’t want conversation. Contrary to your expectations, the guy is crazy talkative—quickly introducing himself as Wade before proceeding to talk your ear off. You would be annoyed, but honestly, his chatter is entertaining and it helps the time pass. 

If you thought Wade’s first outfit was weird, what he wears next time is far weirder. He’s outfitted with some sort of red spandex jumpsuit, with katanas strapped to his back and combat boots. He looks positively ridiculous, but, this is New York City after all. You settle for just raising a brow at him. He asks for his typical drink and, after some cajoling, admits that he’s a mercenary by the name of Deadpool. You don’t really have anything to do with that information, so you just shrug it off and continue serving him until he leaves an hour later. 

From then, Wade makes sporadic visits. The most notable one starts just as any other. It’s about one thirty in the morning, and the bar is quiet. You’ve been serving a gruff-looking guy for about an hour now, and you’re beginning to think you should cut him off. Before you can do that, you hear Wade’s voice. 

“Hey, baby!” He greets you. You blink at the pet name, secretly a bit flustered but not showing it. Wade’s just like that. 

“Hi, Wade.” You greet him, a small smile on your face. He’s wearing his suit, which hides his facial expressions. His voice sounds happy, though. 

Wade sidles up to the bar, before turning to face the guy you’ve been serving drinks to. “I’m gonna need you to come with me right now.” He says ominously. You blink in surprise, your heart jumping in your chest a bit at the rather demanding tone in his voice. 

“Look, lady.” The guy huffs. He spares him a glance, before looking back down at his drink. “I’m not interested.”

You pay a glance at Wade, who seems annoyed. Feeling strangely sympathetic, you try to help him out a bit. Why you do it, you’re not entirely sure. He can defend himself—and probably kick the guy’s ass. But still, you’re speaking before you can get yourself to stop. “That’s just Wade,” you hear yourself explaining to the other guy. “He’s a good guy, he won’t hurt you. Unless you give him reason to.” You blink. 

The guy just huffs, clearly uninterested.

“I tried, Wade.” You shrug. At least you can say you tried, and you won’t have to agonize over your silence.  

“And I appreciate that, sweetheart.” Deadpool says sincerely, before shaking his head. “Even your handsome face can’t convince him… The guy’s busted.”

You start to tune out their conversation after that, as they exchange verbal blows and insults. Wade seems to be getting more irritated with each passing second, and you know that things will escalate soon if you don’t do something. 

You had planned on cutting the guy off, but he motions for you to give him another drink. You know it’s not the best idea, but you find yourself sliding another one over to him before you can contemplate the consequences. He promptly downs it in one go. You think you make eye contact with Wade and you look at the glass pointedly. 

“Ah!” He says aloud. You resist the urge to facepalm, instead sneaking glances at the guy. It doesn’t take long for him to pass out and hit the floor. You grimace at the loud sound of his collision with the ground, and hope it wasn’t painful. Then again, the guy seemed pretty muscular—maybe he’ll be fine? 

“What’d you put in that thing?” Wade asks incredulously, looking at the empty glass. “Horse tranquilizer? Glitter glue?” You laugh at the latter remark. Glitter glue? Ridiculous, honestly.

“It was just liquor.” You huff, leaning over the counter slightly and paying the guy a glance. He’s unconscious, but breathing. You look back up at Wade. “He’s been drinking all night; I figured it would only be a matter of time.” 

“I’m speechless.” He says, then continues speaking. You chuckle at the irony. Wade is never truly speechless. “Completely speechless. You know, you make quite the accomplice.”

There’s a beat of silence. “What do you plan to do with him, exactly?” You trail off, feeling a little guilty. Maybe you should’ve asked that question a bit earlier. Ah well. It’s too late for that now. Besides, you trust Wade. He’s not a bad guy. He likely needs him for his mercenary/vigilante stuff. 

Wade’s answer confirms your suspicions. “Oh, I just need his help with something,” Deadpool says vaguely. He considers the guy for a moment. “Besides, he’s Wolverine. He’ll be just fine.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, that’s Wolverine? Shit.” To think the heavy drinker at your bar was Wolverine… You shake your head in disbelief.

“Yeah!” Wade confirms. “You just knocked out the mighty Wolverine! Not many people can say that.” You grimace, not feeling particularly proud of that fact. 

There are a few seconds of silence before Wade sighs. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I gotta get going.” He almost sounds regretful. 

“Have fun.” You say, raising a brow at the ease with which Deadpool tosses him over his shoulder. “Don’t die.”

“I won’t.” He promises, sending you another mock-salute. Then he stumbles for a second. “Damn, this guy’s heavy. Gotta go; adios!” He’s gone in the blink of an eye. You stare at the front doors for a long moment, before rubbing your eyes roughly and half-expecting to wake up in your bed again. That felt like a dream sequence. Unfortunately for you, it seemed to be reality. 

Wade returns with Wolverine a few mornings later. How do you find that out, exactly? Well, you’re stepping out of the break room and going to the bar when you see Wolverine rummaging through the cabinets. He very nearly rips the door off of the refrigerator and you quickly intervene. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, staring at him in disbelief. “Get out from behind the bar.” You order. 

Wolverine growls, but obeys you and settles in one of the seats. “I need a drink,” he says gruffly. 

“Then just say that, dumbass.” You chastise him. He blinks at you in poorly-concealed disbelief, as if surprised you’ve insulted him. You get the feeling he doesn’t get spoken to like that often. Oops. “What do you want?” You ask. He confirms he wants his usual. 

You prepare his drink and watch as he takes a sip. “Wade finally won you over, huh?” You finally manage to ask, unable to hide your curiosity any longer. Wolverine blinks. You look pointedly over to where Deadpool is sitting, pretending not to eavesdrop. 

Wolverine scoffs. “No.”

“You sure?” You ask. “He seems to think you did.” You send a wave to Wade and he waves back, waggling his fingers excitedly. He looks about as energetic as a little kid hopped up on sugar. It’s kind of sweet. 

“No.” Wolverine repeats. 

You take one look at the guy, grumpy and cranky, and come to a quick decision. “You’re cute.” You huff amusedly. He puts on a cold and uncaring facade, but it’s clear he isn’t actually like that. Deep beneath those layers of muscle, there’s a heart.

It’s as if you insulted him. Every muscle in his body seems to stiffen. He’s tightly wound and tense. “What did you just say?” Wolverine demands, aggravated. 

If you had even an ounce of self-preservation, you’d retract the remark. But it’s nearing three in the morning now, and you’re too tired to care. “I said ‘you’re cute’,” you repeat casually. “Y’know, the whole growly act-” 

Suddenly his claws are in your shirt collar and he’s dragging you forward, bringing you far too close to him and rendering the bar counter between you inconsequential. You wince as his breath hits your neck. “I am not cute.” He growls.

“Okay.” You say, if only to placate him. Truthfully, you think his little growly act is quite cute. But it’s clear he doesn’t think so—and objects to the description. 

Fortunately, before he can put his claws through your throat and end your life, Wade is intervening. “Hey, hands off, werewolf!” He huffs. “He’s the only capable bartender in this place.” 

“Thanks, Wade; I’m flattered.” You respond, hoping Wolverine doesn’t notice how fast your heart is racing. You put your hand on Wolverine’s and attempt to get him to release his grip. He stares at you for a long moment, as if reminding you that he has the control in the situation. You just stare back, unimpressed. He finally releases his grip. 

“You should be flattered, sweet cheeks.” Wade responds, before getting up from the booth and heading over to the bar. He pokes your shirt and you flinch as his finger finds a hole in your shirt. “Sheesh, you practically hole-punched him, pookie.” Wolverine growls at the nickname, clearly disapproving. 

You follow Wade’s gaze to the top of your shirt, where there are puncture marks from Wolverine’s claws. “Aw, seriously?” You complain. Wade’s right—your shirt does look like it was hole-punched. It looks a bit ridiculous. “I liked this shirt.”

“Get another one.” Wolverine says blankly. 

You glare at him. He glares back. 

Wade is practically bouncing on his heels as he looks between you, either oblivious or uncaring of the tension between the two of you. “Look at us,” He says, “The perfect team. The brains, the brawn, and the beauty.” He points to himself, then Wolverine, then you. 

“You think you’re the brains?” You hear yourself say sarcastically before you can stop yourself. Wade gasps in mock-offense. Wolverine huffs in amusement. Deadpool looks between the two of you for several moments, turning his head back and forth. 

“What.” Wolverine eventually demands, annoyed with his constant back-and-forth motion. 

“I don’t like this little duo,” Wade frowns. At least, you imagine he’s frowning underneath the mask. 

“It’s okay, Wade,” you reassure him teasingly. “You can be the beauty, it fits you better.” And you certainly don’t feel like the beauty of this group anyways. 

“Aw, you’re making me blush.” Wade says, bringing his hands to his cheeks. 

“I’m not a part of this,” you feel the need to clarify. They have superpowers, and they’re likely doing something rather important. You’d… rather not join them. You don’t have combat abilities, regeneration, sharpened claws… or anything like that. “But I’ll serve you drinks when it’s all over. When you’re done with… whatever you’re doing.” You offer. Supposedly they’re going on some sort of mission to save the world… Blah blah blah. You don’t know the specifics and you’re grateful for that. 

Wolverine huffs at your comment. “I’m going to need one.” He says. 

“More than one; don’t lie to yourself, buddy.” Deadpool teases. He slaps a hand on the guy’s shoulder in a friendly gesture; Wolverine immediately shoves him off. You resist the urge to laugh, instead pouring him another drink when he asks.

You don’t see Wade or Wolverine for several days. You’re a bit worried, truthfully—but you know they likely have far better things to do than spend time here with you, in the wee hours of the morning. You can only hope they’re not too exhausted.

Finally, after far too long, the front doors open one morning to reveal familiar red and yellow costumes. You look at the two superhumans for a moment, taking in the blood splattered across their tattered clothes and the dark circles under their eyes. They look absolutely exhausted. There’s a dog in a matching red spandex suit at Wade’s ankles; and Wolverine looks less pissed than usual, which is admittedly concerning. What makes you laugh, though, is the state of their tattered uniforms. Wade’s suit is wrecked and Wolverine is wearing a strange mask with two protruding horns. You greet the two of them, before eventually giving in and laughing at the sheer state they’re in. 

“What.” Wolverine demands, taking a seat at the bar. Wade follows his lead, taking the seat next to him. Wolverine doesn’t so much as put up a fight—a clear indication of his fatigue. 

“Sorry.” You say, not feeling particularly apologetic as you struggle to suppress more laughter. You slide him his drink. “It’s just hard to take you seriously wearing that mask.” 

Wade cackles. “You’re not much better, Wade.” You say with a slight smile, getting his drink for him. “You look like a broken fire hydrant.”

It’s Wolverine’s turn to look amused. “You do.” He agrees. 

“Shut up!” Wade huffs defensively. 

“It’s okay, Wade.” You saw with faux concern. Your eyes fall to the dog that came in with him. “Just watch out for your dog; it’ll probably pee on you.” Wolverine snickers. 

“Dogpool!” Wade remarks, as if just remembering the animal’s existence. You roll your eyes, unsurprised that the dog has slipped his attention. He seems like the type to forget he has a pet. 

“Wade, don’t put your dog on the bar counter-” You hiss. But it’s too late—Wade has picked up the dirty dog and placed it on the bar counter, where people drink and eat. Immune to your stress, the dog runs about in small circles, before deciding to scare the shit out of you by jumping right at you. 

You’re forced to catch it. You hold it at a distance, if only because its fur looks matted, dirty, and splattered with the blood of this duo’s enemies. You hold the dog at arm’s length, looking at Wade expectantly. But he’s just laughing his ass off, because of course he is. You hold the dog out to Logan next, but he just shakes his head. Sighing, you set it down on the ground. It’ll lose interest soon. 

But the dog—Dogpool, you remind yourself, unable to take the name seriously—only yips and runs between your legs, before trying to climb up one of them and panting as it stares up at you. “Wade.” You say. “Care to explain why your dog is humping my leg?”

“Aw, she’s just like her father,” Wade coos. You’re sputtering at the remark. “C’mere baby,” Wade says, rounding the bar and holding his arms out to her. 

Dogpool doesn’t even seem to notice him, instead wagging her tail as she still claws at your leg and tries to climb you. 

“Come to daddy, come on.” Wade urges her, making little noises as he beckons her closer. You grimace as she stays near you. Wade visibly deflates. “You’ve stolen my dog’s heart! How dare you?! 

As if you have any control over the situation. But secretly, the longer you look at the dog, the more endearing she becomes. She’s kind of cute. Just a little. Emboldened by Wade’s frustration, you pick up the dog and hold her in your arms. Wade pretends to cry, then attempts to make grabby-hands and get you to give her over.  

You wince as she promptly licks your face with her absurdly long tongue. “Okay, no, never mind-” You quickly back out, placing her down on the counter again. It’s not the ideal place for her, but at least she won’t attempt to coat you in slobber again. 

“Wow, Deadpool is in love with you.” Wade comments, seemingly less bothered now. Then he seems to realize what he just said and starts stammering. “I meant Dogpool. Not Deadpool. That’s me.” You regret the fact that he’s wearing his mask, because you swear it almost sounds like he’s flustered. 

Wolverine looks rather entertained by this conversation. “It’s an alternate version of yourself, and it still likes him better.” He points out. Wade isn’t happy with that comment; Wolverine has a wry smile on his face. “Go to your father.” He then says, tapping the dog lightly and directing her to Wade. She runs up to him and yips excitedly. 

“Aw, you know I can never stay mad at you, honey.” Wade says to the dog, making kissing sounds. You watch the display with amusement, thankful the dog has seemingly forgotten about you. You don’t realize you’re smiling until you feel Wolverine’s gaze burning into the side of your face. 

You blink and turn to him. “Want another drink, Wolverine?” You ask him, a bit restless under the weight of his gaze. 

“Not on this counter.” Wolverine huffs. Then he straightens. “And it’s Logan.”

“Fair enough.” You acquiesce with a smile. Dogpool did just run all over it. “Logan.” You correct yourself. He nods. You decide to focus your attention on cleaning the counter, so you don’t have to think about the look in his eyes as you said his name. 

In the coming weeks, Wade and Logan visit frequently. They always make sure to sit at the bar when you’re working, talking to you and saving you from your boredom. It’s nice to see them slowly return to their normal, well-rested selves. You have to admit: you were a bit worried about them when they showed up with blood splattered across their costumes a while ago.  

Idly, you have to wonder why they still keep visiting you. Sure, you serve drinks—but you work at ungodly hours, and the liquor served here certainly isn’t anything special. It’s a bit cheaper, you suppose. But overall, there are no overwhelming qualities about Joe’s Diner that would make you want to choose it over a regular bar. 

That particular mystery remains unsolved for a while, until one day after hours, when Wade strolls in purposefully—Logan following at his heels. Wade makes a beeline for the bar stool nearest where you’re standing and takes a seat, looking at you pointedly. He isn’t wearing his mask, allowing you to see the intensity of his gaze. He studies you for a long moment. 

Wade seems uncharacteristically nervous and jittery. His fingers tap restlessly against the counter. His leg is bouncing and his gaze can’t seem to settle on any one thing for too long. “I like you,” he eventually says, so quietly that you almost convince yourself you misheard. “Like, like you, like you.”

“You had weeks to prepare, and that’s what you came up with?” Logan says snarkily, clearly unimpressed. He stands a short distance away with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“He likes you too, but he’s too grouchy to admit it.” Wade says for Logan; Logan promptly claws him in the arm. “Ow.” Wade says. The remark seems to be born out of instinct, rather than genuine pain. He sends Wolverine an inscrutable look over his shoulder before returning his attention to you. 

“Well, I like you like you too,” you answer after a few seconds, a small smile on your face. “Both of you. If it’s true.” You add on, because Logan doesn’t seem particularly pleased. But he also doesn’t object to Wade’s statement, so it must be true. 

“Yay!” Wade interjects, promptly leaning over the counter and kissing you excitedly. His hands find the nape of your neck and he’s tugging you into him with a fierce grin. After a few moments, he breaks away and looks behind him—all without letting his hand fall from your face. “You gonna join us, buddy?” Wade asks. 

“I’m fine here,” Logan says with a smirk.

“Perv,” Wade remarks, before turning back to you. He kisses you enthusiastically, his hands falling to the collar of your shirt. 

“Jesus, Wade, don’t throw me over the counter.” You huff when you break apart, secretly worried that he’ll drag you halfway across the room. 

“Wolfie’ll catch ya, don’t worry.” Wade says with a grin. Is that supposed to be reassuring? He keeps kissing you, nearly tugging you over the counter again. At some point, you have to actually catch yourself from falling into the surface. 

“Just- Wait.” You say, not even thinking before jumping and sliding over the counter quickly. You’re standing next to him now. “Better?” You ask. 

Wade blinks once, twice. His lips are parted in surprise. You’re starting to feel self-conscious and embarrassed when he breaks through the tense silence. “That was hot.” Wade says. You scoff disbelievingly and Wade turns to look at Logan, as if hearing him do something. “And I think Claws over there agrees.” He points out. 

Before you can even process what’s happening, Logan is standing in front of you, backing you into the bar counter and kissing you. And even through the nearly overwhelming sensations—one of his hands on your hip, the other boxing you in; the tangible weight of his muscled forearm as you grasp it—you can hear Wade cheering excitedly. It’s so stupid that you find yourself laughing, to the point where you have to take a breath. 

“Sorry, it’s just- Wade, what are you doing?” You laugh breathlessly, looking over at him. Logan’s hand remains on your hip even as he follows your gaze, glaring murderously at Wade.

“Just fanboying, don’t mind me.” He shrugs, sitting on one of the bar stools and kicking his feet. He looks very gleeful. “Y’all are so cute.” 

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get over here, Red Riding Hood.”

“Aw, then that makes you the Big Bad Wolf.” Wade remarks, skipping up to both of you. “Tumblr’s gonna eat this up. We should get T-shirts, or maybe-” Logan’s kissing him before he can continue speaking. 

You’re confident the three of you would stay there forever, if not for Dogpool’s unexpected interruption. She runs up to your legs and then jumps at Wade. Wade freezes and looks down at her with a gasp. “Her sweet virgin eyes!” He exclaims, bending down to pick her up. “Poor baby. I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

“Not sure if she’s a virgin anymore, after what she was doing to my leg earlier.” You mutter quietly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Logan overhears in his proximity and laughs. That may be the first time you’ve ever heard him express such genuine amusement. It must be a rare sight, because Wade is also looking at him in surprise. 

“So you can laugh,” Wade says, pretty much pouting. He’s still holding Dogpool in his arms, and he’s bouncing her up and down as if she’s a baby. “You don’t laugh at things I say.” He frowns. 

“Because you’re not funny.” Logan responds with a shit-eating grin. 

“Hmph.” Wade is dejected for all of ten seconds, until Dogpool promptly licks his face and you all abandon the argument to laugh.

©2025, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

endnotes:

Me: Would Deadpool say ‘adios’? @connorhasabigtip, my bestie: Yeah, he’d say it unironically because he’s a little slut. Me: *laughing my ass off*

I formatted this in between rounds of Squid Game on Roblox… and I think that’s what Wade would’ve wanted.

I looked up pictures of Joe’s Diner and was like, hm, they don’t have a bar + the counter’s too high and filled with stuff. Then I decided I didn’t care, ‘cause this is fiction. If I want to slide over a bar counter, then I’m sliding over a bar counter, physics be damned.

“It’s hard to take you seriously wearing that mask,” is a Dance Moms reference, bahaha (“Jill is yelling and screaming, and all I can think is, ‘It’s so hard to take you seriously wearing that hat.’”)

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat @always-lying-to-you

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[astroselene]

white chocolate

pairing: draco malfoy x reader words: 1.5k warnings: smut, you know how it iiiis a/n: white chocolate has literally nothing to do with this fic, other than it was my working title. maybe draco's sweet like white chocolate :') this is tender, loving smut ig, just wanted to show some love for our boy draco <3

------------------------------------------------------ Your footsteps echoed off the dark stone floor as you walked down the drafty corridor toward the prefects’ bathroom – towards Draco. The torches and lanterns cast a dim light, creating shadows upon the wall. It was nearing curfew, but Draco had requested to meet you at the bathroom tonight, at the end of his patrolling shift of the castle. These bathroom ventures had become quite the habit for you and your boyfriend, meeting there every now and then to get some alone time. Privacy at Hogwarts was hard to come by, and your time with Draco was limited due to both of your lessons, your extracurriculars, his Quidditch practice and prefect duties to boot.

Your heart jumped at a longer shadow on the wall, and you could’ve sworn you saw something move around the corner. It was probably just Mrs. Norris, but you hastened your steps, wanting to get to Draco as fast as possible. You reached the door and let out a sigh of relief. Draco had arrived first and left the door open for you just an inch.

You stepped inside the vast marble bathroom and closed the door quietly behind you. Warm, humid air hit your skin, and you heard the noise of the running water from the countless taps above the giant bathtub. The air smelled like roses and lavender, and you took a deep breath in, smiling as your heart fluttered in anticipation, sensing the man behind you.

“You kept me waiting,” a voice drawled behind you.

Your skin prickled and butterflies danced in your stomach at his voice. You’d never get used to how good he made you feel, or what just hearing his voice did to you, even if you had heard it a thousand times before.

You turned around in spot, finding Draco with a small smile on his face, his expression contrast to his cocky words. He was already in the bath, surrounded by bubbles and steam, his arms splayed at the edges of the white marble of the tub. The humidity was making his usually neatly combed hair go out of place, a single stray falling softly over his forehead. It looked lovely on him.  

“You know I came as fast as I could,” you smiled back at him. His smile grew in response to yours. “I bet Mrs. Norris was snooping around again, I had to be careful.”

You studied each other, silence stretching for a while, anticipation blooming in your stomach and dropping lower.

“Come here,” Draco rasped, his voice huskier than just a moment ago.

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you and the bathtub slowly. Your hands reached up to loosen the tie on the thin nightgown you had worn for the trip from your dormitory to the bathroom. It wasn’t exactly practical wear for the ice-cold corridors of Hogwarts in winter, but it was his favourite and you wanted to wear it for him. His eyes snapped down to watch as your hands untied the knot and let the robe fall from your shoulders.

His eyes roamed up and down your body, hunger growing in his eyes. He shifted slightly in his seat in the bathtub.

You kept your eyes locked on his as you reached back to loosen the clasp of your bra, a small lacy thing you knew he loved. His fingers flexed on the marble, his knuckles going white as he gripped the edge. He kept staring back at you, not looking down, even though you knew it was taking every inch of his self-control. Your fingers hooked in your underwear next, shimmying it down as you enjoyed his eyes on you. You straightened up, making sure to take your time to look back at him. When you did, you smirked at the obvious lust on his face. He finally let his eyes travel down your body, and you could’ve sworn you hear him groan under his breath the at the sight of you, all in nude just for him.

Draco shifted again in his seat and made a come-hither motion at you with his finger. You bit your lip, almost squealing, as you stepped in to the heavenly-scented hot water. You crawled toward him and held onto the edge of the bathtub behind Draco’s shoulders as you eased yourself down into his lap. You sighed with pleasure at the sensation of the hot water caressing your body, and the feel of his strong thighs under you. His hands moved to your shoulders, and you closed your eyes as his soft hands stroked your skin. He skimmed his thumbs along your collarbones, and you moved your own hands to the back of his neck and the blond hair there, scratching gently at his skin. You heard him gasp at the tug on his hair, and you opened your eyes finding him almost nose to nose with you, looking at you with his crystally blue eyes. You closed the small gap between you with your lips, moaning softly at the sensation.

You had been waiting for this all day. Judging by the feel of him growing against your thigh told you he had been waiting for this just as much.

Draco moved his hands to your waist, deepening the kiss. Your mouth opened for him, and you both moaned at the feel of your tongues brushing together. Your hips moved of their own accord, and Draco’s moan turned strangled as you brushed against his length. Draco’s hands slid down to your hips, grabbing hold of you as he urged you to move against him. The humid air filled with your soft moans and his grunts, water lapping at the edges of the bathtub. You closed your eyes as he brushed against you, leaning your head back as Draco’s mouth latched onto your neck to place sloppy kisses against your skin. You had barely started but you both were already panting, almost ready to come apart. It had been way too long since you had done this.

Draco licked a stripe up your neck and one of his hands pushed your head forward, so you were facing him again. He kissed you sloppily, swallowing your moans.

“Darling…,” he choaked, with a plea in his voice that was enough to tell you what he wanted.

You pulled back from him so that you could lift your hips and position yourself better above him. Your knees were already beginning to ache from kneeling on the hard marble, but right now you couldn’t care less.

Draco’s one hand gripped your hip tightly as the other went to his cock, pumping it once, twice, almost like teasing himself for what was to come. He helped you angle yourself, and his eyes rolled back to his head as you slowly lowered yourself on him. You keened at the feel of him filling you, almost overwhelming with how full you felt. You stopped for a bit to get acquainted with the sweetly familiar feeling, until you felt an insistent squeeze of his hands on your hips.

You started moving up and down on him, capturing his lips in a kiss. That coil in your stomach you had felt even before undressing was close to snapping. You didn’t care so much for your own pleasure right now though, you just wanted to please Draco, to make him feel good. He was always so busy, often stressed these days with everything on his plate, and you just wanted to make him feel relaxed and good, just for a bit.

You started rolling your hips, driving him deeper into you and his head fell back with a moan that echoed off the walls. You kept your eyes on him, taking in the pleasure on his pretty face, his hair in complete disarray by now, and you moaned yourself at the sight of him falling apart under you. His pants were coming faster now, his breathing almost ragged from the sheer pleasure he was feeling. You knew he was close, for he was starting to flex his hips, his abdominal muscles going taut at the impending release.

He lifted his head and buried his face in the crook of your neck, your motions ever increasing in speed as you both chased your highs. You felt his release before you heard it, his hips stuttering against yours and a broken moan escaping his lips, as he started to come down. You were panting, your hair glued to your forehead, and beads of sweat coating your chest in addition to the water droplets from the bath.

You kissed Draco deeply, swallowing his sighs of pleasure,  just enjoying holding him against you a while longer. After lifting yourself off of him, you curled in his lap and whispered sweet nothings to each other. It was long while before you found the strength to leave the bath together, hand in hand.

header from @ cafekitsune

[midnightry]

Brother’s Keeper, Heart’s Betrayer.

Brothers best friend! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader.

Synopsis: Summer break is finally here!! It’s going to be a blast staying at your brothers place. That’s what you thought until you see the overly annoying Satoru Gojo In his house.

CW: Bbf!Gojo, 18+ themes, sexual tension, teasing, Enemies to Lovers?, Gojo being an ass, slight age gap (4 years).

Word count: 1195

A/N: I want to thank my friend @funnygirl12 for helping me with this concept❤️

Oh, how you loathed your older brother’s friends. They were loud, obnoxious, and always seemed to find a way to ruin your precious peace. The house would be filled with their chaotic noise, raucous laughter, and the smell of greasy takeout that lingered long after they’d gone. But none of them were as insufferable as Gojo Satoru.

When you first encountered him at twelve, things weren’t so bad. In fact, you even admired the sixteen-year-old with the striking blue eyes. He was always at your house, practically living there with your brother, and back then, he seemed like just another older, cooler figure. But as time passed, Gojo grew more confident—some would call it cocky—and that once-charming charisma turned into something downright irritating. His over-the-top confidence and teasing manner were enough to drive anyone up the wall.

Now, at twenty, you had just returned home from university. Your parents were away on a business trip, leaving you with your brother’s townhouse for the summer. The thought of a few weeks of peace and quiet was enough to make you sigh in relief. Finally, you could have some time to yourself. That was, until…

“Guess who’s home!!!”

Gojo’s obnoxious voice echoed through the house, piercing the tranquility you’d been looking forward to. You buried your face in your pillow and groaned. Of course, he was here. You briefly considered hiding under your covers and pretending you hadn’t heard him, but no—you were the good sister, right?

With a deep sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed. You would say hello, maybe make small talk, and then retreat back to your room. Simple enough. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But as you headed downstairs, the all-too-familiar sound of Gojo and your brother chatting away hit your ears. The two of them were sitting on the couch, beers in hand, deep in their usual “bro talk.”

You rolled your eyes before walking into the living room, putting on your best indifferent expression.

“I knew I heard your loud voice from my room,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe. You glanced at both of them, offering a quick wave. “Hey.”

You grabbed a snack, hoping to make your escape upstairs, but then—

“Well, if it isn’t Y/N, the wet rat,” Gojo teased, his grin wide and annoying as ever.

Wet rat. The ridiculous nickname your brother and Gojo had dubbed you when you were kids. It had stuck through the years, and Gojo never missed an opportunity to use it. It was a playful jab, sure, but it grated on your nerves more than you’d like to admit.

You shot him a glare, but as you looked at him—really looked at him—you suddenly felt a strange sensation you hadn’t expected. His messy white hair, the way his blue eyes sparkled with mischief, the confident smirk that barely faded from his lips…

Wait. What was going on? You hated Gojo. You hated his cocky attitude, his ridiculous teasing, and the way he thought he could charm everyone around him with nothing more than a smile. You especially hated how easy it was for him to get under your skin. But there was something about him today—something that made you feel… uneasy.

No, you told yourself. Not this again. You couldn’t be thinking what you thought you were thinking.

“Ugh,” you muttered, mentally shaking off the thought, trying to focus on getting out of the room before your mind betrayed you any further.

“Your brother went to sleep, you know,” Gojo said, stretching out on the couch, his usual smirk dancing on his lips.

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you were more annoyed or amused. “Lucky him,” you muttered, not bothering to look up as you rummaged through the kitchen.

Gojo shifted, sitting up slightly. “I’m bored, and you’re the most entertaining thing here,” he continued, his tone light but it carried a darker tone. Hinting at a slight desire for something…different.

His gaze was a weapon, sharp and direct, sending a rush of heat through your skin. His blue eyes, usually playful and teasing, now felt like they were cutting straight into you—reading you, knowing you in ways that made you feel both exposed and electrified. There was something darker there, something that made it impossible to look away, and you hated how much it affected you.

Why did he have to look at you like that?

You swore you could feel the weight of his stare searing into you, pulling you closer, inch by agonizing inch. Your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could think, your body moved of its own accord. The space between you closed, the air around you thick with tension, and just as your breath hitched, you found yourself reaching for him.

And then—you kissed him.

It was impulsive. Reckless. The kind of kiss that made the world shift on its axis. Your lips crashed together with a hunger that startled you. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Gojo’s hand found the back of your neck, holding you there, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment. His lips were warm, insistent, and as his tongue slid against yours, you felt the rest of the world fall away.

Everything you’d ever hated about him—the cocky grin, the teasing, the way he always seemed to get under your skin—faded into the background. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the pull between you, the kiss that burned hotter with every second, and the way his hands seemed to understand exactly how to drive you wild.

You couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want too. Nor did he.

He wanted to feel you around him. He wanted to hear you scream his name, he wanted you to be his, and his alone.

The tension was unbearable. Every part of your being screamed for release, for something more, something raw, something real. But you knew this was dangerous, and yet, in that split second, it didn’t matter.

“Say my name,” Gojo whispered, his voice low and almost a challenge. It was a simple request, but it burned in the space between you. His eyes dared you to admit what you were feeling, to admit how much he affected you.

“Satoru,” you whimpered, your voice a breathless plea, wanting more of him, needing more. But just as the words left your lips, he pulled away, his long fingers gently pressing against your mouth, silencing you.

“I didn’t take you for a desperate thing, sweetheart,” Gojo said, his tone laced with mock amusement, the same confident smirk never leaving his face. His words cut deeper than you cared to admit.

And then, like the frustrating, infuriating person he was, he simply turned and walked away, leaving you standing there—a mess of emotions, torn between anger and dripping with need.

Oh how you loathed Gojo Satoru.

*********************************************

Thank you so much for reading!!! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

❤️

-R

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

I Don't Care!: Scarabia

Heartslabyul - Savanaclaw - Octavinelle - Pomfiore - Ignihyde - Diasomnia

Romantic Jealousy: Based on real or imagined threats to a romantic relationship. There could be a history of infidelity or flirtations; however, this could also be solely based on insecurities. Sexual/Suspicious Jealousy: Based on fears that a partner may have cheated or be engaged in inappropriate communication.

Does he get jealous?

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim got along with everyone, he has no reason to be jealous of anyone! But when he sees how well you get along with Riddle, he starts to wonder...

Kalim crossed his arms over his chest, his bracelets jingled softly. His neck craned as he peered around the corner with garnet eyes soaking in the sight in front of him. He had invited you over for one of his weekend parties. He had also invited some of Heartslabyul for the fun of it. There were no dorm politics between them, and Riddle seemed happy to accept the invitation when Kalim mentioned you would be there. Kalim assumed it was because the two of you are friends.

And now, the Housewarden of Scarabia was hiding behind a corner watching Riddle interact with you. Appearing much more energetic now that Kalim wasn't visible. A strange sensation filled his chest. He could not recall any memory where he felt such an intense and discomforting emotion. It was foreign to him in the worst way possible. You were sitting on your knees surrounded by floor pillows with Riddle right beside you. Your legs just barely touching as he smiled sweetly. A pale flush on his cheeks as you talked and laughed.

The expression he wore had a familiar admiration. The way Riddle looked at you was the way that Kalim looked at you. The Housewarden of Scarabia turned away from the view and frowned. His bracelets jingling as he lowered his arms to his sides and rested his back against the wall. This is the part where he would rush out and say something. Shaking away whatever thoughts lingered by smiling and laughing with the two of them.

He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Kalim peered around the corner again. Riddle had gotten to his feet, giving you a small wave as he walked in the direction of the kitchen. Kalim emerged and made his way towards you, pushing a large smile onto his face. He wouldn’t blame you if you decided that Riddle was your type. He was extremely smart and elegant. Neat and tidy with a background that would offer you a secure future.

Kalim was at constant risk of assassination. He would never be able to give you the life that he claimed he could. If you chose Riddle, you had the chance to indulge in peaceful garden tea parties. To read books and admire the flowers. Riddle must know that too. That was why he had taken interest in you. Kalim exhaled what was left of his frustrations and pushed a smile onto his face. He left his hidden corner, and made his way over to you laughing and waving.

He just wants you to be happy. Even if that meant letting someone else have you.

Jamil Viper

Jamil didn't have time for jealousy. Besides if it’s someone like Rook getting close then he has nothing to fear. Right..?

Jamil’s eyes narrowed as he dribbled the ball from his left hand back to his right. You were sitting on the bleachers, staying after school with him as he practiced with the rest of the team. But there was an extra face joining you. Rook had seated himself next to you, smiling and looking at whatever you were showing him on your phone. Jamil didn’t remember Rook taking an interest in the sport, or you.

This was news to him.

Jamil stared a little longer before Ace called out to him. Waving and bouncing on his toes, careful not to crease his shoes as Jamil rolled his eyes and made his way over. Practice seemed to drone on. And Jamil only felt himself becoming more and more on edge. Every glance he took towards you and Rook made his eyebrow twitch. It forced the corners of his mouth into a scowl. He could even feel a throb in his temple.

It was nearing the end of practice. The team had split in half to start a scrimmage match. But Jamil wasn’t as focused as he should be. Instead his charcoal eyes kept lingering towards the bleachers. He watched with a frown as Rook showed you a little magic trick. He had made a little rabbit dance on the bleachers using his magic pen and a folded up piece of paper.

Corny. Lame. And so many other words Jamil could spit out as he watched. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like how he lacked the ability to spend time with you in the first place. He didn’t like how Rook just woke up and decided he wanted to see you out of every other day on his calendar. Something came over him. It wasn’t intentional, not towards Ace.

Maybe the redhead was just too close in that moment. But Jamil felt the brush of their sweaty arms too close for comfort as he and Rook locked eyes. When the blond’s soft smile became a smirk, Jamil body checked Ace to the ground. And with balled fists, he began to make his way off the court. The team was in a frenzy, except Floyd. Who was happy to cheer on Jamil regardless of if it was fists, or words first.

[cheriipetal]

ᯓ★ Chap. 3 | Big feelings, Small words

Sypnosis .𖥔 ݁ You were like a ghost that's haunting him. But somehow he couldn't be scared of you, not wanting to exorcise you but wanting for you to stay with him.

── .✦ 4537 words.

last chapter | next chapter | Chapterlist

Rin looked at the TV screen, seeing the familiar scenes of his favorite movie brought a thrill to him. His hands clutched his toys, grip tightening whenever an exciting scene came up. It was getting to the good parts of the movie.

He jolted, hearing a rumble of a car stopping on its tracks, distracting him. Did his parents finally arrive?— he peeked outside from the window, but to his disappointment, they didn't.

He then lowered his head, ready to go back to his spot on the couch. That's when he saw you, a girl his age, stepping out of the car talking in English.

For some reason, the younger Itoshi didn’t know why his eyes couldn’t take themselves off of you. There wasn’t anything special about you—it’s not like you were doing a backflip while scoring a goal—yet you seemed to pull his gaze toward you like a magnet for his eyes. It wasn’t your toy or dress, it was just… you, maybe it was because of how you spoke English, were you a foreigner? He didn’t know at all.

“That’s probably the family that bought the lot,” Rin heard his older brother’s voice looming behind him. He looked at Sae, trying to see what he felt about this, but he had that unreadable expression like always.

The younger shook his head, clearing his thoughts away, trying to hide the strange feeling bubbling in his chest. “I… don’t care. They’re just gonna be NPCs to me,” he muttered, feigning indifference and moving away from the window, rushing toward the TV.

He turned curious and looked toward his brother, who was still observing the new neighbors.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Over the course of days, Rin couldn’t help but just peek over the window more often than he’d like to admit. He’d spot you playing on the front porch, sometimes with a stuffed toy in your hands.

“She’s just a neighbor,” Rin told himself firmly, shaking his head. “Nothing special.”

But his eyes still wandered to your front porch with pots of blooming colorful flowers whenever he thought no one was watching. He noticed how you often went out with your dad, your laughter echoing through the air.

“Rin!” Sae yelled during one of their practice drills, pulling him out of his thoughts.

The younger Itoshi panicked and shot the ball straight to the net, which was blocked by the goalie. Rin felt his heart beating as he missed the shot.

His breath heavy and panting, his teal eyes scanning his brother, who had an unreadable expression as usual.

“What’s up with you lately?” Sae suddenly asked, his hand glued to his hip.

“Huh?” Rin asked, trying to play it cool.

“It’s like you’re in la-la land. You’ve been in your head lately,” the older Itoshi said with nonchalance, but there was a tint of concern in it.

Silence was the only answer Rin replied with. He felt even more embarrassed by his older brother’s comment and an immense weight on his shoulders. He hated how Sae could always read him, hated how he wasn’t able to stay focused like his older brother does.

“I’m fine,” Rin mumbled, finally answering.

Sae didn’t press any further, but for the rest of the day, Rin wasn’t feeling himself. He couldn’t shake off the feeling, and it boiled every minute. He felt angry, but at what exactly? Himself? Nii-chan? Or you?

They arrived home, Sae went ahead. Rin remained static, wanting to let out all the frustration that was building up. The ball he was gripping in his hands bounced off of the pavement as he dropped it.

He then mustered all of his strength into the kick. He didn’t know what he was aiming at, but he just wanted to hit something. The ball bounced off the wall as expected, but it curved sharply in the direction behind him.

Rin turned around to follow where it was heading, but then it was going at your house at full speed. His gaze scanned if you were there, and to his disappointment, you were. Normally he felt happy seeing you, but at this moment, he wanted you to go inside.

The ball landed on the cup of milk, splashing it on your toy that you always carried. He felt frozen in place. Rin did what Sae always taught him to do if he got in trouble.

“Run and don’t look back,” and he did just that.

His legs moved as fast as they could and bolted for the ball. Rin’s eyes looked at you almost instinctively. He could see your face—your eyes widened and your jaw dropped like you were witnessing a crime happening. Once he grabbed the ball, he ran like he never did before and went to his home.

The shutting of the door was loud as he closed it, which caused Sae to peek over to see what was happening.

Rin felt his heart beating every moment. It wasn’t a good thrill like he felt when watching horror movies.

“What happened—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rin said, heading to his room. His hands were still gripping the ball that had the stain of the milk.

Today was a disaster.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The next few days he stopped peeking over the window, there was a chance they might make eye contact. He felt the whole world was watching him.

Whenever he saw you outside he’d hurriedly hide like you were the killer on the loose. Rin didn’t know what to do— he couldn’t ask Sae for help, he’d just tease him about it and it would make him a loser in front of him.

He arrived at school, making his way over to his classroom and sat on a seat near the window. Rin had his head on his desk, still not getting over that incident— he prayed nothing else would happen.

But, of course, it did.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted you. Rin recognized that unmistakable hair color caught his attention immediately. You were walking in his direction, He tried to hide his face with his arms but that clearly didn’t work since you were still going straight at him.

The younger Itoshi just braced for what you were about to say. His mind went blank as you kept asking him to apologize and then you mentioned someone named Ms. Moe? Oh, it was your stuffed toy.

Rin just kept denying everything, not wanting to take responsibility and being found guilty.

He went home that day feeling even more worse, Rin just gave up and went to his older brother for guidance.

“Mom and Dad are going to be mad at you for messing with the new neighbour,” Sae said without looking up from his book. His tone was flat, but there was an edge of amusement in it.

“It’s not a big deal,” Rin grumbled.

“Not a big deal? You’re gonna get arrested,” Sae said, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

Rin’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah. There’s a law,” Sae continued, barely suppressing a smirk. “If you mess up someone's toy, you have to replace it. If you don’t, the police will come and take you away.”

Rin stared at him, horrified. Sae wasn’t joking. He never joked, Rin thought to himself.

“...Are you serious?”

“Completely,” Sae deadpanned.

To anyone they would’ve thought Sae was a big fat liar and just said that because he wanted to mess with him but to Rin— his brother was telling the truth since Rin always believed him.

And with that Rin rummaged with his toy box searching for anything in value most of it were just action figures and toy cars.

His eyes fell on an owl plushie that he loved, it was his favorite. It was the only stuffed toy that he had and the other toys didn’t seem like you would like them. It was one of his favorites— but he couldn’t risk getting arrested.

He came to the decision and put it in his school bag along with a mini toy house and a toy car for good measure.

Rin ended up apologizing to you the next day, even when it felt ego crushing for him. You had a wide smile on your face after he gifted you the apology gifts. He felt that unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest again, and this time, it wasn’t unpleasant. Rin forgot his embarrassment as you looked at the plushie.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Rin learned your name from the teacher calling it out for checking attendance. L/N Y/N. He didn’t know why it stuck to him. He’d never cared about someone else’s name before this.

You were like a ghost that's haunting him. But somehow he couldn't be scared of you, not wanting to exorcise you. He didn’t want to care, but there you were— always at the edge of his mind.

School was boring as ever, the lessons felt endless, the teachers were obnoxious, and the other kids were nothing but noise. Rin had always thought it was a waste of time.

But lately, school didn’t feel so intolerable. It wasn’t just the subjects or the lunch breaks— it was you. You’d started talking to him and Rin found himself answering back, he didn’t know why.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N always seemed to find him during recess or after school (obviously since they live right across the street from each other), chatting about things that he didn’t even make a thought about.

Sometimes, you’d pull him into games with your other friends, even though he said he didn’t like them. Somehow, you’d always made it fun for him.

Rin would never call you a friend— just a person that he tolerated and would never leave him alone. But he didn’t mind it as much as he would.

“Y/N, watch this!” The dark-green haired boy called out one noon, holding up his two action figures.

You turned your attention towards him, and Rin felt a spark of satisfaction.

He rammed his two action figures together like they were in an epic battle, mimicking the sound effects and dramatic crashes. But it was short lived—

Crack!

The two of you froze, staring at the toys now broken in half at the torso.

He shrugged it off, tossing the pieces on the ground aside. “They always break,” he muttered, “it doesn’t matter.”

Instead of moving on, you crouched on the floor and began picking up the broken pieces.

“What are you doing? Just leave them,” Rin said flat but in an almost annoyed way.

“But these are your favorite toys, right? You can’t just leave them behind! Have you ever seen Toy Story?”

“No,” he simply replied, “what’s that?”

And that made you silent for a moment, then your face formed into shock, as if he just admitted guilty to a crime. You went closer to him which made him flinch a little by the proximity, “You have to come over to my house to watch it tomorrow!”

“Alright, alright! Don’t get too close,” Rin scolded, pushing you gently, suddenly aware of their closeness.

You grinned at him, that same bright smile you always had. And Rin felt a strange tug on his chest again— he still wasn’t getting used to it, but it was like his heart was telling something, he didn’t want to understand it.

Why did you always have to smile like that?

That weekend, Rin did end up going to your house. You lived right across the street, so it wasn’t much trouble getting here.

Standing outside, Rin glanced at your front door, hesitating before ringing the doorbell. Seconds later, the door opened, and he saw your mother walking out.

“You must be Mrs. Itoshi’s youngest kid!” Your mother warmly said, her voice is kind and soft. “Y/N’s told me a lot about you lately. Sounds like you two are getting along, maybe you should invite your brother to play with her as well,” Mrs. L/N suggested.

“Good morning, Mrs. L/N,” The dark-green haired boy mustered up to say.

He blinked, surprised. You’ve been talking about him? Rin shifted his weight awkwardly, his teal eyes eyeing at the inside of the house at the distance, searching for you.

Your mother notices the way he kept flickering his gaze past her and smiled knowingly.

You were already on the couch playing with Ms. Moe, clutching the stuffed toy in your arms as you patiently waited.

“N/N-chan, your friend is here!” Your mother called out, and your head shot up at the sound of her voice. The moment you saw Rin, you jumped and ran to and held his hand without hesitation.

“Come on, I want to show you something!” you said excitedly, pulling him towards your room upstairs.

The younger Itoshi let himself be led, his eyes darting towards the interior of your room. It was colorful and cozy, a reflection of you. Toys were scattered messily across the floor, he was taken aback by the amount of toys you had.

Then, he saw them— two familiar action figures propped up on your desk.

“I fixed them,” you announced proudly, noticing his gaze on the newly fixed toys. “Dad helped a little… but— I did most of the work!”

Rin took a step further, picking up the toys carefully this time— fearing it would break again. The cracks were faintly visible, but the pieces together almost perfectly.

He didn’t ask for it to be fixed. He didn’t even think you would. Yet, here they were, good as new.

For a moment he didn’t know what to say. But something in his chest made him feel warm.

“...Thanks,” he muttered under his breath, suppressing a smile. Gripping the toys a bit tighter.

“See? It’s like they’re alive again! Like in Toy story!” You said beaming at him, “Speaking of the movie. Let’s watch it now! And if we have time we can watch the sequel,”

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he quickly brushed it off. “Alright,” he said, following you to the living room.

As you ran ahead, setting up and preparing the movie. He thought to himself, that he is starting to like you more and more and wanted to be more than just playmates at school.

He’s considering calling you his friend from now on.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You knew it, you were tearing down his cold walls each time you spent together. Rin was getting softer, though he’d never admit it.

Occasionally, he would try to impress, even if he masked it as something else. He’d invite you to his house, put a horror movie on, and be holding a proud smirking as you clung onto him, frightened— while he on the other hand didn’t seem fazed. For someone who acted so indifferent, he seemed to enjoy your attention more than he lets on.

It really did feel like you were making progress in your mission, much quicker than you anticipated. You loved learning about his dreams, passions, and tiny habits that no one else noticed.

As much as you liked learning about him there was one passion that you tried to avoid talking about— Soccer. You had enough of it, since Auntie Anri would be so busy because of it and you barely saw her anymore. You didn’t want it to be the same with Rin as well.

Unfortunately, Rin had different plans for this weekend. He was inviting you to play soccer in the field with his brother.

You sighed as you made your way into the field that he mentioned, kicking a pebble along the path. The faint scent of cherry blossoms drifted in the air, and the sight of trees blooming in soft pink hues lightened your mood. You loved spring— everything feels so alive and vibrant.

Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea. If nothing else, you gotta enjoy the scenery instead of briefly passing it with a car.

As you approached the field, two familiar figures were in the distance, they were the only ones who were playing under the bright sky. Peering at them at the entrance. You saw Rin’s older brother noticed you first, then soon Rin noticed as well and made his way over to you.

“What took you so long?” the younger Itoshi said, laced with concern but tried to conceal it.

“Sorry, Rin,” You said in a shrug with a light and unapologetic tone, “I was just admiring the cherry blossoms while walking— they are very pretty this time of year,” you explained.

His brows furrowed and gave you a small frown but there wasn’t any hint of surprise like he expected this of you. “Whatever, let’s just play.”

As you dropped off your bag on a bench, you noticed Rin’s older brother giving you a few side glances, Rim said that he was here to keep an eye on them. You were still wondering what he meant when he said a few weeks ago. Come to think of it, you didn’t know his name, Rin always referred to him as Nii-chan. You made a mental note to just ask later.

“This is your first time playing soccer, right?” Rin asked, snapping you out of your thoughts and you responded with a nod.

“Isn’t your brother going to play with us?’ You said, eyeing at the reddish-brown boy who was sitting at the bench at the distance.

“He says that he’s just gonna watch us play and to keep an eye on us,” Rin explained.

“Alright,”

You stood there awkwardly in the field, staring at the soccer ball like it was a math equation you didn’t intend on solving. You’ve seen a lot of soccer plays in Auntie Anri’s house whenever she watched TV but weren’t really interested in it.

Maybe you should’ve paid more attention…

It wasn’t that you didn’t wanna play anymore but it was more that you didn’t know how. “What if I’m bad at this?” you asked worryingly.

“...then I’ll teach you,” Rin said, a bit more softer than usual, but you didn’t notice too focused on the ball at your feet.

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself. “I’m ready,”

“Took you long enough,” Rin spoke out, tossing the ball at your feet. You flinched trying to move away at first then realising you needed to stop it, it even barely stopped at time— your feet stumbling a bit.

“You’re supposed to control it, not run away from it,” he added, suppressing a laugh but it still slipped out.

Maybe you should’ve just stayed at home, but spending time with Rin is gonna make him want to be friends with you so you’re gonna endure it.

“Alright, first thing’s first” Rin said, taking it back and placing the ball in front of you. “Just try to pass it back to me.” he demonstrated, nudging the ball with a clean motion that sent it rolling back to him. “You know, like that,”

What…?

You stood there awkwardly. You needed directions, not just some vague demonstrations from him. Your brows furrowed looking at the ball that he just passed back to you, still trying to figure out what he meant.

“Can you do that again?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion.

“No,” he replied bluntly, “I already gave you clear directions,”

Yeah, clear as mud. You wanted to say out loud but held your tongue

You mimicked his motion, your foot grazing the ball gently. It didn’t go far, but it was clearly not smooth. It rolled a little, stirring off to the side.

“that sucked,” catching it with his foot effortlessly. “Try again, but with more power,” Rin replied.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Rin’s idea of “clear directions” was somehow different from yours, because nothing about this felt like it was making sense.

You should never let Rin teach you or other people things. He is way too fast, too impatient, and never lets you catch up and expects you to do it perfectly.

At first you were struggling to control the ball, your passes were too soft or veering off to the side. But somehow, despite Rin’s disastrous excuse for teaching, you managed to figure it out.

The ball started going where you wanted it to, your kicks were more smoother and more confident— though still far from perfection, but at least you were making progress.

Rim blinked as you sent a sharp pass back to him, “Are you sure you’ve never played before?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“If I had, I wouldn’t be here, being taught by you,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes back at him.

“Then let’s see if you can get the ball past me and score a goal,” Rin said, planting himself firmly in front of the goal. “Just try to kick anywhere but straight at me.”

You frowned, lining up your shot. With an exaggerated swing of your leg, you sent the ball rolling… directly into Rin’s shin. He winced, rubbing the spot.

Your hand was covering your mouth, shocked. You went over to see if he was alright, “—I’m fine, it wasn’t a bullet.” The younger Itoshi pushed your hand away gently. “But I said pass me, not through me,” he grumbled.

“Alright, let’s try again,” Rin spoke out, dusting his shin. Kicking the soccer ball back to you, you stopped it with the bottom of your foot instead of running away this time.

You charged forward, the ball still wobbling. Rin was right in front of you, his intense gaze locked into your movements, planting himself firmly.

You bit your lip, unsure what to do. You faked a kick to the side— though it was unintentional, more like you were off balance— and Rin stepped to block it. In your panic you accidently connected the ball, sending it in the opposite direction. The ball zipped past him and into the net.

There was a long silence between you too as you stared at the ball sitting steadily at the net.

“I scored?” you asked in disbelief, you were contemplating how you were able to do that.

Rin frowned looking at you, his brows furrowed. “That doesn’t count,” he said, though you could see the slightest tint of red in his cheeks.

“Nu-uh, it totally counts!” You retorted, throwing your arms in the air triumphantly.

“You didn’t even mean to do that,” Rin grumbled. He avoided your eyes, muttering in his breath.

You then picked up the ball and tilted your head, a teasing grin displayed on your face, “Aw, is Rin-chan mad I beat him in his own game?”

“We’re going home it’s late anyways,” he said curtly, he wasn’t wrong the sky was getting dark, time really did fly by. You looked at him again, already walking towards the bench where your bag and his brother was.

You couldn’t help but laugh, jogging to catch up with him, “don’t be such a sore loser! I’m a fast learner, you know.”

Rin stopped, glancing over shoulder with a glare that lacked its usual sharpness, “Next time, you’re not gonna get past me,” he said, but there was a small yet unmistakable smirk on his face.

“You’re actually smiling! Does that mean we’re friends now?” you said with a smug grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulder.

“As if,” he said, his tone more softer than usual, and he avoided your gaze.

When you made your way home, you couldn’t help but think about Rin’s older brother. He still hadn’t spoken a word to you, his cool and distant demeanor creating an air of mystery around him.

Despite his aloofness, it was clear how much influence he had over Rin. The younger Itoshi practically lit up when Sae was around, even if Rin would never admit it outright.

Once you arrived at your house, you and Rin went your separate ways. You practically sprinted through the door, eager to collapse on your bed and recover from all the physical activity. Your legs felt like jelly, and you couldn’t wait to unwind after such an eventful day.

But just as you kicked off your shoes and started to relax, a faint tug of memory nagged at you. Something felt off, like you were forgetting something important.

The answer came when your hand brushed against a familiar round object. You froze, staring down at the soccer ball still in your grasp. A groan escaped your lips as realization hit you—you’d accidentally taken their ball home with you.

With a resigned sigh, you slipped your shoes back on and headed to the Itoshi residence. The walk was short, but the weight of the ball in your hands felt like a constant reminder of your blunder.

Once you reached their doorstep, you stood on your tiptoes to reach the doorbell. A soft chime echoed through the house, and moments later, the door swung open.

Standing in the doorway was a woman with reddish-brown hair, her kind eyes softening as she looked down at you. “Hello, sweetheart,” she greeted warmly.

You straightened up, offering a polite smile. “Good evening, Mrs. Itoshi.”

Her expression brightened further. “Ah, Y/N, aren’t you the one Rin’s been spending so much time with? He’s been in such a good mood lately, and I have you to thank for that. You’re welcome here anytime,” she said, giving your head a gentle pat.

The sudden physical affection caught you off guard, and you froze slightly, unsure how to react. “Thank you, Mrs. Itoshi,” you managed, your voice small.

She smiled at your politeness but quickly added, “You should get along with Sae as well.” Her tone was casual, but there was a hint of encouragement in her words.

You congratulate yourself since you didn’t have to embarrassingly ask Rin what his brother’s name was even though you’ve seen him a bunch of times now.

“He’s been struggling with his English recently, and I heard from your mother that it’s your first language. Would you mind helping him out sometime?”

You hesitated, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden request, but you nodded. “Alright, Mrs. Itoshi. I’ll try my best.”

Her relief was almost palpable. “Thank you, sweetie. You’re a lifesaver.”

You handed her the soccer ball, watching as she cradled it with care. “Rin must have forgotten this. I’ll make sure he gets it back.”

With a final pat on your head, she bid you goodnight, leaving you to head home once more.

As you walked back, your thoughts swirled. One Itoshi brother was already a challenge to befriend, but now you had to crack two tough shells? Double trouble was an understatement.

Still, you figured it wouldn’t be so bad. Rin admired Sae a lot, and getting along with him might even earn you some extra points with your stubborn friend.

But that was a problem for another day. For now, all you wanted to do was snuggle with Ms. Moe and enjoy some much-needed rest.

And as you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but smile. Somehow, this day had turned out pretty great.

Taglist .𖥔 ݁ @danhoneyyysblog @nana7nana777 @levihanmyotp

[gorgeous777]

First Time, Neville Longbottom x Fem. Reader

Your boyfriend wants to give you his virginity!

A/N: The following includes praise, p in v, and foreplay.

Enjoy!

__________________________

He wasn't sure what got him here. Maybe it was his hormones. Maybe it was just how pretty you were. Or how safe you made him feel when it came to the uncomfortable stuff. Everything actually, not just the uncomfortable stuff. But, whatever it was, it landed him here. Standing in front of you with a red face, tight trousers, and unbelievably nervously. He'd never had sex before, but he wasn't clueless about it. At least not entirely. With virginity comes some ignorance. Meanwhile, you're sat on your bed looking up at him dumbfounded. Did he really just ask you if you'd be okay with having sex with him? He couldn't read your expression, and he didn't like it.

You blink once, completely dumbfounded. "I.. Okay. Yeah" Your willingness to comply made some of his nerves fade, but certainly not all of them. He nods awkwardly before responding. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured or anything.." You look up at him quizzically, then letting out a soft scoff and shake your head lightly. "Yes, I'm sure. No pressure, I doubt you even have the heart do something like that Nev." He gives a small, awkward nod. You smack your lips lightly before standing up and stepping close to him. "I suppose we should start off slow, shouldn't we?" His eyes widen at your sudden proximity, but he makes no attempt to move away from you.

"Yeah, yeah. Slow.." He stammers out, raising his hands for a split second before lowering them quickly. He wanted to touch you, hold you, something. But he wasn't sure if that was too fast or not. Especially since you were doing this on his account. Your arms encircle his neck as you press your body to his. His breath hitched at the action and he went rigid momentarily. After another moment of hesitation, his hands came up to gently hold your hips. Your lips meet. At first he's shy, but it doesn't take long for him to try and reciprocate what you're doing. His lips are against yours, and hard. Firmly, nearly bruising. Though, after slowing down and following your lead, it gets better. Soft, and gentle. Sweet, like candy.

His lips feel antagonizingly good against your own. Without realizing it, you've moved to the bed. He's sitting on it, and you're straddling his lap. You don't fully register it, you chose not to. It was better not to ruin the moment. Your hands find their way into his hair, running through it, gripping it. You run your tongue along his bottom lip. A small groan sounds from him as your tongue finally meets his. He was quick to part his lips for you, eager for more. To learn and feel. There's a shift in position again. He's gotten a bit bolder, more comfortable in this mess of your lips. You're pressed up against the headboard and he's on top of you. Words can't begin to describe how warm your body feels beneath him. How good, how right.

Before you knew it, your lips found their way to the corner of his mouth. Kissing hungrily along his jaw then to his neck. When you found his throat, the kisses turned into more. Sucking tenderly on his skin, leaving a trail of dark blossoming hickeys down his neck. For each one you gave, he let out a series of whines and gasps. Such beautiful, needy sounds that spread warm goosebumps across your skin. You're completely enthralled with how vocal he is. How unashamed he is with the pleasure you're bringing him. You try to return your lips to his, but he's quick to mirror your actions. Kissing your jaw and neck, sucking marks into your flesh. Your hands find his hair again, messing it up further. Pulling him in, greedy for more of his attention.

He smells good. Like the greenhouses and shampoo. Heady. It's practically pheromones to you, making you want to drink him in until nothing is left. Unable to take it anymore, your hands find his face and tear him away from your throat. Before he could react, your lips are on his again. Deeply, passionately, hungrily. He reciprocates your kisses with equal ferver. With a puff of air from both of you, you roll over on top of him. His large hands return to your waist and his fingers slide beneath the fabric of your shirt. At some point you break away for air, your breathe no better than trembling gasps. His eyes are blown and his hair is a disaster. Not to mention his heavily flushed cheeks. You imagine you probably don't look much different.

You're straddling him now, just barely hovering above the painfully large tent in his trousers. "Okay.." you let out an exhale, "You've got me worked up now". He swallows thickly as your words sink in, and all he can do is nod at first. His eyes widen as your hands find the zipper of his jumper and yank it down. His chest is heaving by now, and multiple anxieties flood him as you fumble fast hands to unbutton his shirt. He knew he was far from lean, and wasn't overly fond of his chubbiness. Once the fabric was open, your hands slip beneath it and slide it open slowly. Wide eyes marvel at his bare torso, and he swallows nervously. "Beautiful.." You mumble breathlessly, causing Neville to doubt his hearing for a split second.

Before he could voice his doubt, you're already pushing the shirt to his shoulders and pulling it off his arms. "Your turn" you state bluntly, making his eyes widen in horror. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. After the tiniest bit of hesitation his hands grip the hem of your shirt and pull it off over your head. He sets the article aside, marveling at the sight of your bra. You keep your arms raised above your head, silently ushering for him to take it off you. He reaches behind you, your faces coming into dangerously close proximity as he does. He fumbles a bit, but get the bra unhooked. You lower your arms and shrug the piece off, then simply tossing it aside. He raises his hands, hovering them just above your breasts. His eyes flicker up to your face, hesitancy written all over his expression. "Can I touch you..?"

"As much as you want" His eyes wander back down to your chest as his hands make contact with your bare skin. He cups your breasts gently, his thumbs gently brushing over your nipples and watching as they harden. A small flicker of hesitation crosses him before he just gives into his intrusive thought. His lips make contact with one of your breasts. He trails soft kisses over it, stopping when he reaches your nipple. "I didn't tell you that you had to stop" His eyes instantly flick up to your face, surprise etched all over his own. "This is a part of the act, y'know. Exploring the other persons body. Finding out what they like.." He nods before leaning back in and pressing a kiss to your nipple. It sent pleasant sparks through your body, directly between your legs.

"Do you like that, Y/N?" He asks softly. A small exhale comes from your parted lips. "Yeah.. Yeah, it feels good" Upon your confirmation, he makes up his mind about what to do next. He takes the bud into his mouth and suckles gently. A sharp gasp comes from you at the feeling, your arms instantly going around his shoulders. His mouth was warm and wet. With each suck he gave, a pulse went through your body. A throb of pleasure that only added to the growing wetness between your legs. He pulls away after a few moments, he pulls away and looks up at you almost expectantly. "Was that alright..?" You blink. "Yeah, yes. Definitely. More than alright. That was- Yeah" Although your response mildly confused him, he took it as a good thing. "What next?" His voice is unbelievably soft as he speaks. Unriddled with vulnerability.

"I guess we should.." You exhale, your chest heaving as you did "take off the rest of our clothes" His eyes widen momentarily before he agrees. You slide yourself down his lap a bit to reach his waist. He leans back against the headboard of the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as he watches you unbuckle his belt. His member was painfully hard inside his trousers and creating a large bulge. He swallows thickly once you get his trousers undone. Part of him had doubted it'd actually go this far. Yet here you were. He lifts his hips, making it easier for you to pull his trousers and briefs down his legs. Another wave of heat washes over you at the sight of his bare body. The look on your face kind of scared Neville. "You're staring.." He points out awkwardly, snapping you out of your daze.

"I know I am" Without wasting anymore time, you quickly shed yourself of your bottoms. "Do you want to be on top or bottom?" The question instantly flustered him and he stammers a bit before giving a proper answer. "Which do you want?" You pause momentarily. Guy on top was traditional, first time wise anyway. "You on top" He nods meekly and then you very awkwardly switch places. He stared down at you with nervous eyes. You part your legs for him and hw swallows thickly, his cheeks growing impossibly red. Hesitation was written into his body language. His tongue slips out to wet his lips as he contemplates what to do now. After a moment, he moves closer between your legs as he grabs ahold of his length with one hand.

"Is there somewhere I'm supposed to touch first..?" You nod. "Yeah, the top" He swallows again. Gently, he guides himself to press his tip to your aching clit. You gasp softly, which quickly turns into a low hum as he rubs himself in small circles against you. He let out a small whimper at the feeling. His tip was sensitive and you were so slick.. His body trembled lightly at the unfamiliar pleasure. A few circles later, he moved to press his tip to your throbbing entrance. "Here?" His voice trembled as he spoke. Upon your confirmation, he exhaled shakily. "Can I start..?" His eyes held a look of desperation, and his breathing was far from even. "Please" You voice comes out a whisper that only sent more shivers down Neville's spine. Slowly, he began to push into you. As he does, he lets out a needy whine with his face contorting in pleasure.

Once he's sheathed inside you he pauses, a weak whimper leaving him. He takes a few moments before slowly starting to move his hips. With each gentle thrust he gave, he let out a small whimper or moan. He was a bit tense at first, but seemed to relax easily. His movements became more comfortable, though he was far from rough. His eyes were dark if open at all. So completely unashamedly vocal. Still, not loud enough for to be heard outside the room. You too, let out a chain of your own sighs and noises. They only spurred him on further. After a few minutes his hips suddenly jerked uncontrollably, like he was trying to push deeper into you. His face contorted heavily in pleasure and a small cry left his lips.

It was a sound you definitely couldn't see getting old. Very gently, he pulled out with a weak whine. "Was I okay..?" He questioned through panting breaths. "Yeah.." You manage to respond a few seconds later. He felt like melting. Or as if he legs had suddenly become jelly. Despite it though, he managed to lean down and press a soft kiss to your lips.

"Thank you, Y/N."

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

How do I tell him? (ArthurTV)

I’d been carrying the weight of it for days, the words lodged in my throat like a splinter I couldn’t dislodge. How do I tell him? Arthur hadn’t done anything wrong—of course, he hadn’t. That was just who he was. Warm. Understanding. Kind. But the thought of how he might look at me differently once I said it… it made my stomach twist every time I tried to work up the courage.

What if he thought it was a big deal? What if he overthought it? Or worse, what if he didn’t understand?

I sighed, staring at my phone on the kitchen counter. Arthur had texted earlier to say he was picking up some pastries from that little bakery I loved. It was such a sweet gesture, and yet my mind couldn’t stop spiraling. The truth was, most of my dating experience had been with women. Navigating this new relationship with Arthur felt like learning a language I hadn’t spoken in years. I was out of practice, unsure of myself in ways I hadn’t been in a long time.

The sound of the front door clicking open jolted me out of my thoughts. “Hey, love,” Arthur called, his voice soft but bright as always. “I’ve brought reinforcements. Croissants and… whatever these cinnamon things are. The woman at the counter swore they’d change my life.”

I forced a smile as he walked into the kitchen, his hands full of a crinkly paper bag and that ever-present calm energy. He looked at me, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” he said, setting the bag down. “What’s on your mind?”

My stomach flipped. I hated how easily he could read me, how his gentle curiosity always made me feel like I couldn’t hide. Maybe that was why this was so hard. Arthur had this way of making me feel seen, but what if I wasn’t ready for him to see all of me?

I fidgeted with the hem of my sweater, the words bubbling up before I could stop them. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

Arthur leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched me. “Okay. I’m listening.”

I stared down at the countertop, tracing the lines of the wood grain with my eyes. “I… I’m bisexual,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Most of my dating experience has been with women, and… it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a relationship with a guy. I’m… I guess I’m just figuring out how to navigate this. With you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. I braced myself, my heart pounding, as I dared to glance up at him. Arthur’s expression was unreadable for a moment before it softened into something warm and steady.

“Okay,” he said simply, nodding once. “Thank you for telling me.”

My brows knit together. “That’s it? Just… okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He smiled, stepping closer. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. If anything, I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. And… if you’re figuring things out, that’s okay, too. I’m not going anywhere.”

My chest ached with the weight of relief, the knot I’d carried for days finally loosening. “You’re really okay with this?”

“More than okay,” he said, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

I nodded, a small smile breaking through despite myself. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Arthur said, his tone lightening as he gestured to the bag of pastries. “Now, let’s see if these cinnamon things really are life-changing.”

I laughed, the tension finally melting away. And for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe.

Before I could reach for the pastries, Arthur stepped closer, wrapping his arms around me in a firm, comforting hug. I sank into him, my cheek pressed against his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding me.

“I love you,” he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble. “Just as you are.”

My throat tightened, but this time it wasn’t with fear. “I love you, too,” I whispered, the words slipping out as naturally as breathing.

And in his arms, I felt safe, certain, and wholly seen.

-

@smzyyx

[dailydragon08]

OT Gang Reacts: Realizing You're Not Doing Well Mentally & How They Take Care of You

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Through no fault of her own, Leia is so busy running a rebellion, trying to kickstart a new regime, and making sure what’s left of Alderaan’s population is taken care of, she might not recognize the signs that you’re not doing well at first—especially if you’re trying to hide them. She might suspect something here and there, but at first figures you’re just having a bad day or week and will turn around soon. When you start acting out a bit more over a longer period of time, she realizes that’s not the case and feels horrible for not doing something sooner. She immediately pulls strings to lighten your workload and invites you to a private dinner in her quarters, the menu full of all your favorite comfort foods. Once there, she says she realizes you’ve been acting off and reminds you she’s here to talk, support you, and that if you need a break, you should take it. She doesn’t want you permanently damaging your mental health for the sake of the rebellion/New Republic when someone can easily take over your duties for a while. She gets you all set up in a place that’s pretty, peaceful, and out of the way for as long as you need and makes sure she carves out time in her busy schedule each day to spend time with you—all comms and notifications are off to make sure she can give you her undivided attention should you need it. She’s very protective over you as well, and if someone tries to suggest you come back before you’re ready or you don’t really need this break, she lays into them and puts them in their place so they never bring it up again.

Luke, of course, can sense the second you start slipping through the Force. He doesn’t want you to feel smothered or like he sees you as incapable, so he watches for a bit, but of course he’s worried. Suddenly, he’s extra attentive and gentle with you, asking if you need help, if can he bring you anything, making absolutely sure he saves you a seat next to him during meetings, sending you small smiles and gentle arm/hand squeezes much more often, etc. He would try to subtly help out at first, suggesting you meditate with him (even if you’re not Force-sensitive), teaching you some yoga/tai-chi poses, making you tea with herbs that are known to promote relaxation, buying you little things here and there like fidget toys, mandala coloring books, fictional books that he knows you like so you can escape and relax for a bit, etc. Eventually, if things don’t improve on their own, during a meditation session, he gently brings up that he can sense you haven’t been doing well for a long time and he would really love to help. He reminds you that he’s always here for you and if you need him to fly you somewhere remote for a little vacation, he’s sure he could get the higher-ups to approve it (he is a commander, after all). If you take him up on it, he really enjoys having one-on-one time with you away from everything and continues doing everything he can to make you feel better—and even continues the same practices after you’re healed, just to remind you daily how much he cares for you.

Han isn’t the best at expressing or talking about his emotions, but he’s definitely worried. Although most people see him more as the “brawn” of the group, he does catch onto things quickly and can tell when you’re not returning his quips and banter that something isn’t right. At first, he’ll try to help by complimenting you more in his own sarcastic way and making lots of self-deprecating jokes to get a smile out of you. If you need more, the next step is blowing off some steam via rage room, shooting range, ax/knife throwing, distracting you with a Dejarik game aboard the Falcon, etc. Little things here and there start showing up, like your favorite snacks/meals (“I’ve always had these in stock on the ship, what do you mean you’ve never seen them before?”), anything broken is immediately fixed within a day or two, buying you a new jacket when yours rips on a mission, etc. He never does get very vocal or explicit in his support, but you might be able to get a “you’re gonna be all right, kid” out of him a few times. Either way, there are many more squeezes and pats to the shoulder, and you can tell through his actions he's trying to be there for you and wants you to feel better.

I honestly think Lando would be one of the first out of the group to notice something’s wrong (after Luke, of course, since he has the Force) and act the fastest. He’s immediately pulling you aside and asking if you’re all right and if you need a little Cloud City vacation. He doesn’t want to push if that sounds like something that might overwhelm you, but insists it would feel good and he would make sure you’re completely pampered, with your stay 100% tailored to you. Until then, he’s spoiling you rotten. I firmly believe his top love language is gifts, and he’s buying you all the nicest comfort items you could need (spread out, of course, so he doesn’t smother you on accident). If you do finally decide to take him up on his vacation offer, he finds an entire rental house that’s out of the way with a great view of the city and sky, but still close enough to the main city to quickly find amenities and things to do. He’s of course there with you, either spending time with you or just checking in to make sure you have everything you need if you want some alone time, making sure to deliver any items or meals to you personally to ensure they get exactly where they need to go. If you’d rather go out, he’s taking you to all the nicest places, insisting you don’t worry about the price and get whatever/however much you want.

Although Chewie (platonic) can’t speak your language and can’t do a lot, he realizes you’re not okay immediately and becomes very protective over you. If someone’s giving you trouble or trying to force/shame you into doing something you don’t have the capacity for, he’s instantly growling/roaring in their face, putting himself between you and the other person in a clear sign to back off. He makes sure to give you lots of hugs and rushes to bring you anything you might need to get up for or go pick up.

C-3PO (platonic) has an extensive database of different species’ behavior, including emotional issues and states, although he’s never seen it in real-time. As a protocol droid, he’s of course offering to serve you in any way he can and lets you know that all you have to do is ask. R2-D2 (platonic) of course echoes his sentiments, and is instantly zipping around to do little tasks here and there to make your life easier, even playing bits and pieces of holomovies on his projector when there are lines of one character complimenting or supporting another to try and get his message across.

~~

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