A/n: Double update! I won't be updating again until ~ Wednesday/Thursday!

𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the kitchen as the smell of fresh coffee filled the air.

I stood at the stove, flipping pancakes while Madelyn sat at the counter scrolling through her phone, one of my old hoodies draped over her shoulders like it was made for her. Well, technically, it was made for me, but it looked so much better on her.

"Babe, serious question," I called out, glancing over my shoulder with a smirk. "How many chocolate chips are too many chocolate chips?"

Madelyn looked up, her hair slightly disheveled from our lazy morning. She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curving into a grin. "There's no such thing as too many. Chocolate chips are a way of life."

"Even if the pancake is more chocolate than pancake?" I teased, flipping another golden circle onto the plate.

"Especially then," she replied, hopping off the stool and padding across the kitchen. She slid her arms around my waist from behind, resting her chin on my shoulder.

Her touch was warm and grounding, and it sent a thrill up my spine.

I could feel her smile against my shoulder before her hands started smoothing down slowly as she gripped me through my sweatpants, my eyes widened as I quickly snapped my head around to look at her as she started laughing to herself.

"You're such a bad influence," I said, tilting my head to the side to glance at her.

"And yet," she murmured, pressing a kiss to my cheek, "you're still making them for me."

I chuckled, leaning back into her. "Because I'm weak for you, Cline. That's why."

Madelyn smiled against my cheek, giving me a playful squeeze before pulling away to grab a fork. "You're lucky these pancakes are good, or I might've found someone else to cook for me."

"Oh, please," I said, rolling my eyes as I plated the last pancake. "Like you'd ever give up your personal chef."

As we sat down to eat, the faint buzz of our phones disrupted the calm. I instinctively reached for mine, but Madelyn's audible groan made me pause.

"What now?" I asked, already sensing it wasn't going to be good.

She flipped her phone around to show me the headline:
"Y/N Evans and Madelyn Cline: Trouble in Paradise? Rumors Swirl About Y/N's Mysterious Hollywood Ex, Cline the Rebound?"

I clenched my jaw, setting down my fork. "Seriously? Do they not have anything better to write about?"

Madelyn shrugged, but I could see the tightness in her expression. "It's just noise," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "They don't care if it's true, as long as it gets clicks."

I reached across the table, my hand covering hers. "Hey," I said softly, waiting until she met my gaze. "None of it matters. They don't know us."

Madelyn's lips twitched into a small smile. "I know. It's just frustrating. Like, can we live without someone trying to stir up drama? And who even is this so-called ex?"

I had a feeling who they were talking about and I'm sure Madelyn did too but, there's no way anyone would have any substantial evidence or anything that Scarlett and I had a little whatever you want to call it.

Plus, there's no way Scarlett would leak anything to the media, she gets annoyed by these stories and things like that just as much as I do.

I personally just don't like how they called Madelyn a rebound. She isn't one, I genuinely love the girl and quite honestly, wish I would've let Scarlett go sooner.

Madelyn has my heart, it's no secret. I watched as my phone buzzed again as Madelyn got up to put her stuff in the sink.

"I have no idea," I said, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. "But if they're looking for drama, they should've seen you trying to steal my last chocolate chip pancake last week. That was chaos."

That earned a laugh, her shoulders relaxing as the tension melted away. "I don't steal, Evans. I... borrow indefinitely."

"Right," I said, narrowing my eyes playfully. "Borrow. Sure."

Madelyn leaned forward, her grin mischievous. "You're lucky you're cute."

"And you're lucky I love you," I said, leaning across the table to kiss her forehead.

Madelyn's smile grew, her eyes softening. "I love you, too." She paused, her voice turning teasing. "But I'm still taking the last pancake."

"Don't you dare," I gasped, lunging for the plate as Madelyn grabbed the pancake and stuffed a bite in her mouth. Her laughter filled the room, and I couldn't help but join in.

The moment was interrupted by my phone buzzing again. I picked it up to see a message from Dylan.

Stiles Stilinski🥍:
Uhm, is the party still on?

Fake Steve Rogers⍟:
Yeah? Why wouldn't it be?

Stiles Stilinski🥍:
Anna thought maybe you and Madz might be having an issue. Y'know, with the article and all.

Fake Steve Rogers⍟:
No, we're good. You know how these rumors are. No truth to it.

Stiles Stilinski🥍:
You don't think it was her, do you?

Fake Steve Rogers⍟:

Stiles Stilinski🥍:
No, the f**ing wall.*
Yes, Scarlett.

Fake Steve Rogers⍟:
She wouldn't do that. She could barely open up to me. Why would she leak something like this?

Stiles Stilinski🥍:
Eh, yeah, you're right. See you and your lovebird tomorrow.

I sighed, locking my phone as Madelyn slid onto my lap, her arms looping around my neck. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I said, wrapping my arms around her waist. "Just Dylan being Dylan."

She kissed me softly, her lips warm against mine. "I'm glad you don't let this stuff get to you."

"It's easy not to," I murmured, pressing my forehead against hers. "When I have you."

Madelyn smiled, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. "Can we just have a lazy day? I'm so tired of running around."

"Whatever you want," I said, standing with her still wrapped around me. "Lazy day it is."

I smiled as I stood up as Madelyn wrapped her legs around my waist. We headed back to may bedroom as we closed the blinds and turned Netflix back on, getting cozy under the comforter.

I opened my Instagram as I went to post. Madelyn looked over at my screen laughing as she saw the photo. "God, I love you," she giggled as I posted the image.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

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. . .

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The living room was filled with Rose's enthusiastic rendition of a song she'd made up on the spot, her little hands gesturing wildly as she performed for me and Florence.

I couldn't help but smile as she bowed dramatically, her curls bouncing.

"You're amazing, Rose," Florence said, clapping. "Next stop, Broadway."

Rose giggled, running upstairs to grab her crayons. "I'm drawing you next!" she called over her shoulder.

As the sound of her tiny footsteps disappeared, Florence turned to me. "You're still coming tomorrow, right?"

I hesitated. "Florence—"

"Don't 'Florence' me," she interrupted. "You're coming. End of discussion."

I sighed, leaning back against the couch. "It's going to be awkward. Especially with that article out. What if she doesn't want me there?"

Florence gave me a pointed look. "If she didn't want you there, she would've told me. You're overthinking this."

I crossed my arms. "You sure about that?"

"She doesn't hate you, Scarlett," Florence said, her voice softer. "And I think you need to stop hating yourself over it."

Her words hit harder than I expected. I looked down, fidgeting with the hem of my sweater. "It's not that simple."

Florence leaned forward, her hand resting on mine. "I know. But you can't keep living like this. You need to talk to her. Either you say how you feel, or you let her go. For both your sakes."

My chest tightened as her words settled over me. Maybe tomorrow was my chance to finally say the things I'd been too afraid to admit.