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Or I'll Kill You

Author: MysticAmy
last update Huling Na-update: 2024-05-27 15:02:43
That evening, I met Jessy at our favorite bar. She was already there, sitting at a corner table with two drinks in front of her, waving enthusiastically as I walked in.

“There she is!” Jessy called out, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on over, Haven. We have a lot to talk about!”

I couldn’t help but smile at her infectious energy. Jessy was the kind of friend who could turn any situation into a fun adventure. As I joined her at the table, she pushed one of the drinks towards me.

“How are you feeling, Jessy? You were sick, and now here you are, drinking alcohol,” I said, raising an eyebrow in concern.

Jessy waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine, totally fine. It was just a little bug. Besides, I need to enjoy tonight before heading back to a dreadful Monday—especially now that you’re no longer there to keep me sane.”

I chuckled, feeling a pang of guilt. “Yeah, about that… It’s been a whirlwind.”

“So, what happened?” she asked, leaning forward with eager curiosity. “Was it Joaquin
MysticAmy

Hihi! His knight in shining armor!

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  • Pen & Passion   1Most of All

    I went to the bathroom. However, what I did not expect, was that he followed suit and watched me, as if seeing if I was okay.My reflection in the mirrored wall looked pale, eyes rimmed red, lips swollen from a kiss I shouldn’t have allowed.Joaquin stood beside me, calm as ever, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed forward. He hadn’t said another word after that. Not after that kiss. Not after I pushed him away.And I hated myself for it.Because the taste of him still lingered, and my heart was still beating as if he were holding me against his desk, whispering my name like a prayer.But instead, here I was, arms crossed, chest tight, suffocating in silence.The doors slid open. He stepped out first, striding down the hallway with his usual controlled grace. I followed, clutching my bag like it was the only thing tethering me to the ground.Inside the apartment, the city lights bled through the windows, bathing the living room in soft gold. I stopped by the door, watching as Joaquin shr

  • Pen & Passion   Me... or Still Her?

    The day stretched long, words blurring together on the page as the soft hum of the city seeped in through the office windows. My pen scratched idly against the margin of Joaquin’s manuscript, but my attention kept drifting.To him.He sat across from me, one leg crossed over the other, his focus sharp on the screen before him. For a while, it was just the rhythm of silence between us. His typing, my note-taking, the quiet companionship that had somehow become our routine.Then, as I reached for another stack of pages, my hand brushed against his.A spark shot through me, quick and treacherous. My breath hitched. His fingers didn’t flinch away immediately. In fact, they lingered, grazing against mine like he was weighing the choice of whether to pull back or… not.I dared a glance at him. His jaw was taut, eyes fixed on the screen, but I felt it. The awareness humming between us, thick and unspoken. For a heartbeat too long, neither of us moved.Then he cleared his throat softly, his h

  • Pen & Passion   The Dream

    The morning sun slanted through Joaquin’s office windows, painting the shelves of books in golden light. The space always smelled faintly of paper and ink—familiar, grounding—but today there was a flutter in my chest I couldn’t quite tame.I sat across from him at his wide mahogany desk, laptop open, manuscripts stacked beside me. It was routine now, slipping into work with him, combing through drafts and tightening prose until every sentence gleamed. But this time, his gaze lingered a little longer on me as I tapped notes into the screen.“You’ve gotten faster,” he said, his voice low, teasing.I arched a brow. “Are you complimenting me or suggesting I’m rushing?”“Both.” A half-smile tugged at his lips. “Efficient, but maybe a little eager.”I rolled my eyes, though warmth spread through my chest. “Says the man who edits entire chapters in under an hour.”Joaquin leaned back in his chair, studying me with that unreadable calm of his. “That’s because I’ve been doing this longer. You,

  • Pen & Passion   Keep Breakfast Interesting

    The first thing I registered when I opened my eyes was the faint taste of chamomile still on my tongue. The second was the heaviness in my chest, the echo of words I couldn’t erase.I’ll wait. But make no mistake—you’re mine.I buried my face into the pillow, muffling a groan. God, what had last night even been? A fever dream? No. I could still feel the heat of Javier’s gaze on my skin, the way his voice had dipped into something so raw it stripped me bare.And now, morning light streamed through the curtains, bright and unforgiving, reminding me that nothing had actually changed. I was still in Joaquin’s world. Still in his home. Still pretending to be his fiancée while my heart spun like a broken compass between two brothers.Dragging myself out of bed, I threw on a simple blouse and jeans, something safe, something that didn’t feel like silk gowns and masquerade masks and stolen kisses. Maybe coffee would drown the memory.But the second I stepped into the kitchen, I knew fate wasn

  • Pen & Passion   Make No Mistake

    Sleep never lasted long. Not tonight, not with my thoughts clawing at me like restless shadows. I’d barely drifted for an hour before my eyes snapped open, heart pounding as though it refused to let me rest.Joaquin’s steady arms carrying me out of the ballroom. Javier’s mouth on mine in the maze. The guilt, the ache, the chaos… I couldn’t breathe with it all pressing on me.So I gave up. Slipping from bed as quietly as I could, I padded down the hall, clutching my robe tight around me. Maybe chamomile tea would help. Something simple. Something steady. Something that wasn’t one of the Greyson brothers.But the second I entered the kitchen, I froze.There he was.Javier sat on the counter like sin personified, half-naked, a glass dangling lazily from his fingers. Only his slacks hung low on his hips, his chest bare, golden under the dim kitchen lights. His dark hair was a little messy, his eyes glinting in amusement the moment they found mine.Of course. Of course it had to be him.I

  • Pen & Passion   Torn in Two

    The ride back to Joaquin’s place was quiet, the hum of the car a low backdrop to the storm in my chest. His arm was around me, steady and warm, shielding me from the flash of cameras as we left the gala.To the world, it must’ve looked like a fairy tale: the devoted fiancé carrying his tired bride-to-be out of a ballroom filled with glitter and champagne.But beneath my skin, shame pulsed like a second heartbeat.When the car pulled up to Joaquin’s bachelor pad, he didn’t even wait for Mark to open the door. He slid out smoothly, gathering me into his arms again before I could protest.“Joaquin, I can walk,” I murmured, cheeks heating.“You’ve done enough tonight,” he said simply, his voice brooking no argument. “Let me.”The door closed behind us, muting the city noise. I know that his private home was sleek, masculine, filled with muted grays and clean lines—but tonight, it felt softer somehow. Like his presence wrapped around every corner.He carried me straight into the living roo

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