#like yes he's all grown up!! he's all mature now!!!

[faesdreaming]

cardinal concept

yandere platonic batfam with a resurrected reader

a/n: because as much as i love neglected reader, dead (then alive again) reader just has so much potential

the dynamic duo, batman and robin. bruce wayne and dick grayson. then, you came along; a result of bruce’s irresponsible coupling with a young woman he’d long since forgotten about. you grow up in the nastier parts of gotham with your mother, where you’re forces to grow up faster and become more mature, until she has an accident.

after you’re mother’s untimely death, you find yourself under his care. bruce is hesitant and unsure, he’s already struggled with raising dick. he doesn’t want to fail you too. he dances around telling about batman until you happen upon the batcave, at your insistence and a few instances of you following them, he relents and lets you join.

suddenly, it’s batman, robin, and cardinal.

bruce is initially unsure what to do with you, even after you become cardinal. unlike with dick, who needed to become robin lest he go down a darker road, you’re only cardinal because of him. it draws out an agonizing guilt, causing bruce to practically coddle you. but you’re emotionally intelligent, in a way bruce isn’t, you’re able to communicate with soft words and gentle reasoning instead of shouting matches and tearful pouting like your brother. you’re his angel, his sweet, understanding angel. it reminds him of his own mother. you’re kind, empathetic disposition is everything bruce needs in his life. because yes, to him, your brother needs his guidance. but bruce needs yours.

as for dick his relationship is with you as simple as this: he’s the big brother and you’re the little sibling. you can fight and argue, but you two always make up and head off to snuggle or play. you’re bond grows stronger the more time you spend on patrol— having each other’s back, getting into trouble with batman— or at school— although you’re in a younger grade, you still see your big brother at school and go to him when you have problems— or at home— snuggled up, watching a movie and eating snacks provided by alfred— you two are extremely close.

you’re little of family of four— including alfred, of course— is tight-knit. you fight and argue but always make up and you’re always there for each other.

until dick becomes nightwing and a scruffy teen named jason todd joins you. as close as you are with your older brother and father, you bond with him far quicker. maybe it’s because of how close you are in age, or maybe it’s because of your shared past experiences.

the family dynamics shift and change, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. dick grows more distant, going off with the titans. but that’s to be expected, he’s grown up now. you still visit him, of course. and he still pops by to see you. bruce, you notice, softens, almost. he’s grown accustomed to parenthood. jason is your favourite change, though. a sibling close in age, but still younger, so can justify (playfully) bossing him around. your family isn’t perfect, but it’s yours and you love it.

then, jason and bruce start fighting. dick goes off world. a fight with bane leaves you injured and out of commission. it’s just a rough patch, you tell yourself. until, suddenly, jason’s birth mother contacts him. something’s off about it. you want to tell your dad, however, jason is adamant you shouldn’t. reluctantly, you don’t, opting to go along with him just in case.

your gut, as it turns out, was right. you’re injured and unable to do much as the joker captures you and jason. you’re helpless to watch as your brother, your sweet baby brother, is beaten mercilessly with a crowbar. your voice is hoarse from screaming during your own beating and your body is sore, but despite it all, you still rasp out pleas to let your brother go. one child will be effective enough. the joker can spare one. of course, in his cruelty, he doesn’t.

you’re left aching, battered, and bruised. the ticking of the bomb serves as the count to your death. jason, brave jason, tries to gather enough strength to get up. and maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he weren’t focused on trying to save you. he won’t listen to your pleas for him to go, to leave you behind. he’s adamant upon accompanying you to your doom.

you hear the final ticks. with all the strength you have left, you move towards him. you cannot save yourself. you cannot save him. all you can do is die beside him. pressing your forehead to his, the last thing you see is your little brother’s face before the final tick sounds and the ensuing explosion consumes you.

and that’s the end of it, your journey, your life. you’re buried alongside your brother in a sombre ceremony, your uniform cased in glass as a memorial to bruce’s failures. he becomes angrier, loses himself. he’s lost two of his children and is fighting with his only remaining one. dick, is utterly furious, with himself and bruce. he blames bruce. for letting his precious siblings die, for starting them all of this heroic crusade. he blames himself for not being there, for being distant with you and jason.

alas, time marches forwards and batman needs a new robin, in the form of one tim drake. he’s a clever kid, one way too smart for his own good. one you used to babysit while his rich parents were away to earn some extra cash. it wasn’t right, leaving him with no one his age to play with. so, when you could, you’d come over. you’d soothe his loneliness. and for that, he’s forever grateful.

your influence continues beyond your death. for you life has impacted so many. barbara gordan, for example, who viewed you akin to a little sister. who fought alongside you as batgirl. you were loved by many as (Y/N) Wayne. your friends and family still hold candles for you. even as they accept your lose, they never stop fully grieving for you and the lost potential brimming inside you. then, there are those who you impacted as cardinal. as a hero, you saved numerous lives, including that of one stephanie brown, who will forever feel indebted to you and strives to become just like you.

the justice league, who knew you as one of the first sidekicks, who functioned like extended family, mourn deeply for your loss and offer sympathies to your father and brother. they will remember you and your tenacity, carrying on their pursuit of justice with you in mind. certainly villains, such as poison ivy and even harley quinn, are enraged with the joker. while you could occasionally be a pain, you were their favourite kiddie hero. and of course the likes of selina kyle and talia al ghul, your father’s paramours, women who became like family to you.

cardinal will be forever immortalized in the hearts of heroes and villains alike, your legacy of compassion and kindness living on in memories transformed into stories, your death a testament to sacrifice and love and heroism— except, that isn’t how it ends, is it? no. your story doesn’t end with your death, it’s how it begins.

and your real story begins by waking in the constricting confined of your casket, bursting out with inhuman strength, fueled by the adrenaline boost, and digging your way out of your grave, the cool mud giving way to harsh ground until you break through the service. that night, that stormy gotham eve, is the day you are reborn.

you flee then wander the streets of gotham until you regain your mind. you remember, you remember everything and you, you don’t want to go back. not to your family, not to your friends, not the life you once knew. you were given a new life. and this life, you would live for yourself.

sans your old attachments, you live encumbered, untroubled by past woes. yet, you seem to forget your festering memory, the mark you’ve left on people. you forget that while you may be willing to leave your old life behind, they aren’t as willing to let you go. especially when they learn you’re within reach.

[youwerethedefeated]

Can't wait to see how gay this is gonna look animated

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

— i’m in love with a dying man

rating: mature. or explicit? i’m not sure. angsty study on grief in unconventional forms. (mild) smut purely for poetic reasons

word count: 4,1k

pairing: viktor x gn!reader

cw: terminal illness. several mentions of death. everyone is horny in a heartbroken way, so grab a napkin—but not for the reasons you think. and yes, you may dox me for making you even sadder after whatever happened in ep 6.

—

He licks a tear off your cheek, and it seeps in between the bumps on his tongue, all prickly salt running down your face in two glossy trails of sorrow. Stinging, when his calloused thumb swipes over a puffy eyelid, only to inevitably fall to your lip and tug, nudging your mouth agape. His desperate grip softens when you oblige and arch, letting him grunt over the slope of your throat; wheezier than you remember, raw, rhotic and ravenous. The hard shift of his lungs is palpable under your hand, ruckling heavily in his sternum. It almost breaks down to a cough when he cants his hips into you, slanting one last slow, weak slam. Spilling all his pent-up frustration deep inside you through that bitter orgasm, leaving a clumsy mess of stickiness to dry on your inner thigh. Stilling for you to hold him through that collapse, grateful for the shaky hand that you firmly fist into his hair. Not receding until at least a few kisses are strewn upon your shoulder. 

It’s always like this now. Viktor clings to you, and you cling to him, nails digging into handfuls of him hard enough to draw blood, each embrace so tight your ribs might just break if he doesn’t retreat in time. And god does he wish to let it linger, to drag it out until eternity tumbles in—even if his eternity is reduced to a question of mere months at best, even if he must crawl out of a casket to have your touch back. 

The night you almost lost him still has you in shambles. You remember it all too well—hell, it’s almost like that acute smell of hospitals and doom still coats his skin, more slimline than it ever was, its once ivory shade fading to chalk-like disaster. The utter horror of crushing verdicts, endless heaps of bloodied handkerchiefs and palms so cold that even the heat of your breath fails to make the feeling of him any less chilling. 

The dark humor of sneaky death: she’s right around the corner, the cruelest of all mistresses. Ready to snatch him away whenever your fingers ghost over his spine, stroking a languid count over each prominent vertebrae. And no matter how tight you curl up beside him, she will supplant you, and her proximity can’t be measured in miles, feet, or inches. Because death is a termite—she gnaws at his very heart. And blooms metastases everywhere you still have him. She’s inside him. She’s merged with him into one.

At first, you denied it. Knuckles drummed against the wall in a frustrated fistfight, painting that scabrous canvas bright with your frustration. White and crimson—the speckled pattern of your hysteria. You recall how bad it stung, and how shame creeped up your spine—frightening and so, so sticky. Throttling, when he tended to that self-inflicted disaster, bandaging your smashed hand in motions sick to the core with gentleness. 

And it felt so ugly. Like you’ve grown to loathe everything around you: the doctors, for their disgusting prognosis; life itself, for being hardly fair. And even Viktor. Especially him—for slowly slipping out of your pale-knuckled grip. Well, red-knuckled, more like. That angry stunt did cost you a decent injury. White and crimson, remember? 

Naturally, grief doesn’t always progress by the book. However, denial always comes first. It’s an axiom, an invariable component, and you’re sitting on Viktor’s hospital cot, hand in trembling hand, eyes snapped wide and ferocious. Wrapped up in fear while the silence rings in your ears. 

His doctor addresses the quandary. It doesn’t feel vicious—at least, not yet. Flimsy, more like. Deceptive, too. Like if you just blink it away hard enough everything will snap right in place, and you’ll find yourself at home again—where that aseptic smell of medication can’t reach either of you. 

Well, of course, there’s always a possibility of postponing the inevitable. Winning over a year or, even, two—if Viktor’s lucky enough, that is. But you both know that he’s lacking in that department.

And yet, you grab your little hope by the throat: to look into later, when your comprehension is intact again. Surely, it’s just not plausible: so what if Viktor’s cough pulls you out of sleep every night, so what if every shirt he owns has tiny blood stains on it? Yes, he spends more time in bed than he does at the lab. He’s simply tired. He needs the rest. Not in peace. 

The retraction doesn’t linger, though. It survives a few more blood tests and a lengthy, dreadful discussion of his calamity—most strikingly frightening when the doctor talks him through each option. And not a single one manages to appease you. To stop your fury from retching out and causing an ugly scene. 

So you fling the door to his room ajar and leap inside with a bitter scowl, teeth gritting hard enough to crumble into powder. Arms a tight crisscross over your chest, step wide and listless—punctuated with a muffled clack of heels. Viktor’s eyes follow your tremulous circles—a lazy, sheenless flick of pupils, each widened into a bleak void from the rancid dose of painkillers. He lays supine, with his hair ineptly slicked back, umber waves awry, loose and sweat-damp. He’s almost mellow, tongue barely a glide over his chapped bottom lip—a martyr-like stiffness, the carrion of a man. 

But you don’t look at him. You pace, and pace, and pace—in that same tiring route, all around his creaky cot. Viktor rasps something indistinct—a muffled plea that tickles the back of his throat, rupturing yet another coughing fit. You silently hand him the speckled handkerchief. 

He looks up, eyes the saddest shade of buckwheat honey—dark with remorse; seeking comfort. But you don’t have any to give. You stare past him, gnawing at your tongue hard enough to draw fleshy copper. Dodging the kiss he tries to press to your wrist—pulling yourself back and out of his loving grip, igniting a staring competition full of glassy eye-daggering. Blink slow and borderline drowsy. 

“Milackú,” he pleads. Pulls at the corner of his mouth to wipe the bloody evidence of his withering. 

Your tear catches in your bottom lashes. 

“Milackú,” he rasps again, kicking the blanket aside. Stepping one bare foot on the cool tiles and reaching for you: arms, legs, and heart—all yours for the taking. If only you consider crawling under his minty sheets again. 

You don’t. 

“Why?” It’s so meek you barely recognize it as your own. Taut throat tightens even more, and, suddenly, you’re choking on a gasp. “Why did you turn down the treatment?” 

“Please, if you could just—“ He husks, but you can’t hear him through the ringing in your ears; the room already smudged into wattery, astigmatic lumps, Viktor’s face but a bunch of fuzzy dots you’re struggling to make out. All missing jigsaws, blurry little fractions. 

“What did I ever do to you?” You yell, shielding your eyes. Turning away from the arm he extends, his weak fist clenching to grab thin air, then tumbling as he stares at his palm in sheer dubiety, upper lip trembling. 

He winces. Ceases you by the hand and tugs as hard as it gets—frail enough for you to easily nudge him away—but you don’t bother this time. Your knees ungainly bend into shaky arcs, drifting apart when he clasps around you and pulls until you finally land on the sheets next to him, your tears mingling with his cold sweat—a salty fusion of mutual suffering.

Then comes a sequence of guttural, squealing whines and you stay twined with him for a while. Lithe fingers run through your hair, spreading to untangle an occasional knotted strand—up, and down, and over your shoulder in a caress. His lips purse on your temple, sucking an indistinct kiss. His heartbeat trails off under your fingertips the second you rake them over his thin hospital gown, growing frenetic again when you tug at the fabric, demanding closure.

“Please. Please don’t do this to me.” You exhale your choked up entreaty into his neck and it pours over his skin in a rigid breath, aftertasting of stinging desperation. His hand seeks your face, taking a forcefully gentle hold of one puffy cheek, drinking in your unsightly, woebegone rebuke. Looking at you like a repentant devotee, his timid eyes meeting your fierce ones.

“This is not about you,” he wheezes, too stern for your liking. Presses his forehead against yours and holds you through yet another shudder—and there’s no avoiding his pleading stare. “I’m not trying to get away from you. I merely want to escape my conundrum.” 

“These aren’t mutually exclusive, Viktor,” you hiss, voice simmering with betrayal. 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Unfortunately?! Is that all you have for me right now?” 

“I’m afraid so.” 

He sighs like he means it. His words keep slipping away from him, drowned in coughs and ambiguous humms. You get it, though. Your semantics became sparse the minute Viktor almost died in your arms. 

You melt into one-another in a teary, sniffling twine—simply breathing, trading tense silences. His stately stance collapses into a lifeless hunch, straightening a bit only when your fingers billow over his shoulder-blades—chiseled like ones of a famished dog. There are plenty of dog-like things about him now—the pleas lodged in his glances, the newfound hunger for your touch. Especially for the way you’re holding him; every embrace like a loving headlock—and the pressure soothes him. 

“I’m tired of taking risks,” he finally whispers against your temple. “All these… labored efforts for mere fractions of peace. Decaying steadily. Constantly hurting. I’m spent.” 

“Exactly. Which is why you need the treatment.” 

His lashes shudder against your cheek in a prickly tickle. They keep fluttering when he recedes, shaking his head with a bitter frown.

“But its success is… highly improbable.” 

“Yes, but there’s still hope—“

“It’s running thin as we speak. I shouldn’t squander it on… the imminent.” 

Viktor’s irksome choice of words had you springing backwards in glossy-eyed delirium. Staring in disbelief as if he’d requested something inexorable: which he did, inherently so. 

He curses when tears slice your face again—tends to them with the softness of a man most contrite of his omission, shaky hands already catching holds of your waist, using your temporary pliancy to swiftly nudge you into his cot. Curling up close enough to have your weeps reverberate in his sternum. 

“I’m sorry,” he repents with a deep rasp. “Please, don’t cry.” 

He held you in reticence again: this time horizontally. Offered you every solace his body could provide: your fingers in his hair, fumbling mindlessly (he put them there himself). Tangled legs. Apologetic neck-kisses. His head heavy on your shoulder, its weight a welcome tranquility. And only when your last tear soaks his pillow does he commence with his explanation. 

“I don’t want to spend what little time I have left miserable,” he tells you, drawing a breath. “Yes, the treatment might win me a year—a year I would spend bedridden, nauseous, and weary. A travesty of life. An illusive salvation. I’ve had enough of those.” 

Your hand stills in his hair, nestled within unkempt strands. You’ve run out of tears, so this bitter truth is met with nothing but a piteous sigh—the only thing you can still master after crying your heart out into his skin. Now you can only stare at the ceiling, chewing on your cheek in cruel denial. 

He’s right. He always is. 

Viktor sees the shift in your face—knits his eyebrows together in tender pity, tucking himself firmly against your face. Wincing, when he feels the aching tension in your temple. 

“I know I’m asking a lot of you. Too much, even.” He’s sincere when he says that, and you can sense the gratitude in his voice—for even allowing him to utter this excruciating of a thing, for attempting to understand. 

You simply nod. Yes. It is a lot. But you want to hear everything he has to say. 

So Viktor continues.

“I would hate for your last memories of me to be tainted with despair and hospitals only for all the struggle to go to waste when I inevitably pass away. I have no desire to postpone this torture at the expense of growing indifferent towards everything that makes me feel alive.” 

“But what if we manage to cure you?!”

“That’s too much of a ‘what if’ to risk dying a grim death for. I want to die…content. I want to enjoy myself before I do. Please. Don’t take that choice away from me.”

His eyes brim at you with every ounce of guilt he possesses, big tears wallowing in his eyes like an earnest plea—tacit, weary, earnest. Yes, it’s not like you have a word in his terrific decision, but Viktor wants your blessing. It’s only right that he includes you. Even if he’s intending to refuse the treatment regardless. As absurd  a bid as that is. 

You clasp his face like it’s about to vanish. Like you won’t be able to make it out when he’s gone if you fail to remember it right this instant, your gaze frantically jumping from one feature to another, seeking to embroider the image into your very eyeballs. Roaming over the artifically-white hospital light hallowing every streak of his hair. Indulging in a bittersweet smile when you note how prettily it spills over the pillow. Lingering on the patterns in his ochre irises—almost fully swallowed by his void-like pupils. Observing how they match the insomniac, mauve shades under his bottom lashes. Tracing every convex little thing—two lovely moles, thick eyebrows, the pointy mouth. Everything you’ve grown to love so dearly. Everything his illness keeps taking away from you. 

You wince, cradling his cheeks, your thumbs dipping into the hollows of them gently. Urging him to scoot closer—eye to eye, lips on lips. Breath over shuddering breath. 

“Are you sure?” You mouth the question on his skin, barely even uttering it. Hot pressure meanders into your head like a prickly impulse. It’s timid like motion sickness—borderline nauseating, too—all murky splashes of trippy lights under your closed eyelids. And the unease is diluted only when he finally kisses you—an approbatory, guilt-ridden thing. 

He’s certain. And for that, he’s so, so sorry. 

You try not to think of it, focusing on the feeling. No tongue, no teeth: just sheer tremor and so much rawness. A soft, soothing exhalation straight into your mouth like the gentlest of placebos—and yet, it works for you, slaps your pulse out of its frantic antics, and the stiffness slowly leaves your limbs under his touch. 

When it’s over, he winces at you in that sleepy, adoring way of his. Attempts a wry, sad smile. The cold light besieges his head into an even clearer halo—a foreshadowing of what is to come, an inconspicuous little thing. But everything about him is conspicuous to you. Loving Viktor has made you wary, and you wanted to hold onto that attention to the detail before it eventually slips away alongside him. 

 “Are you sure?” You repeat, tightening the inadvertent chokehold around his neck. The grip weakens only when he pulls away to clumsily clear his throat. 

“Yes.” And you know he means it when his face turns just as solemn as when he confesses his love to you. 

“I’ve had a nice life with you,” he adds, hoarsely. “I want it to feel nice when my time comes, too—whenever that might be. Sooner than later, I presume.” 

The figurative knife in your stomach twists anticlockwise. 

“Will you stay with me?” He dares to inquire. Meek, shaky hope tingling in his throat. “For however many months I have left?” 

And when you look up at him with a hurt frown, he’s reminded not to ask you rhetorical questions. 

— 

A few days later, Viktor is discharged from the hospital and insists that you both go back to normal. Well, to the new, tainted definition of it—where one spoiled napkin less is considered an ephemeral improvement and grief is a fixed variable by your side. 

Your slow-paced, quiet life that keeps turning even more timid in a frail attempt to savor what’s left of it. Faux preservation, but he allows it—savors it just as earnestly as you do, and your weeks weave into a darling, familiar routine. With some minor, necessary changes, no less: rest comes before the lab now, all deadlines fashionably late to accommodate this newfound tempo. Mandatory hourly breaks. Weekly check-ups. Four days off for every three he spends bent over the parchment. But this time, he doesn’t protest. His body demands it, inconveniently so.

You don’t tell anyone about your horrific arrangement—not yet, at the very least. It’s all you can think about, and the words threaten to slide out every time you speak—but you’re forced to swallow them with a smile so lopsided that everyone around you can only suspect the worst. A mantra of countless ‘What’s wrong’s irritating your ears with pure sincerity. 

What is wrong with you, indeed? You’re a spectator to death—not just any death, but the one you dreaded most. And not only are you witnessing it in the making, but this decision was never forced—you handed Viktor the choice and accepted whatever he went with so obediently that it felt absurd, and it had your skin crawling every time someone vaguely mentioned anything even remotely related to his condition.

But they—whoever that refers to—could never get it. They wouldn’t know what it’s like: to be stripped of your selfishness for the sake of Viktor’s peace. Defying your needs. Forcing yourself to find relief in demise. You might’ve failed to intimidate her into allowing you to keep him, but you could still accompany him into her arms and make it glorious. Here it is. Your new, appalling reason. It’s all that you want now.

Or is it? 

There’s plenty of nobility in being his chaperone—welcoming him into bed every night, painfully aware that it can become his death one. Treating every new invention of his like a soon-to-be postmortem legacy. Mourning the living. Anticipating the inexplicable. Marking every shared kiss the last, just in case. 

But then it came—unabashed and sudden. That blurry line where mourning merges into something dubious, a confusing paradox that leaves you full of filthy carry-over somewhere within your gut. The scorch his lips engrave into the column of your neck. The way it ignites a swell you can almost convince yourself is actually tangible, running your fingers over it recursively like a tactile little prayer. The gaze he throws at you across the lab ever so sneakily—a figurative punch that feels surprisingly close to a kiss. And you never resist turning it into one. Escalating. Claiming. Indulging those ambiguous, yet-to-be-defined things and having them wash over the remnants of your decorum. 

You try to fight it when it first happens, but it doesn’t last. There’s no place for restraint in grief—not when it turns into a beautiful desire to be all over him, to take everything life has to offer before he runs out of it. And Viktor doesn’t judge you. He encourages it. He craves it, just as bad—if not more—than you do. How many more undoings can he claim before the final one absorbs him? You’ve already lost that count. So much for having your love bleed on every inch of his skin.

Tonight you let it bleed mouth to mouth—a sweaty, heartfelt thing that commemorates your hunger for him in a kiss so dizzying that he has to lean back with a silent, breathless plea for brief interlude—foggy eyes staring up at you so devotedly. Shuddering, when your arms wander over his chest to feel the rasp, pointed lips bruised full of spit-slick swell. He’s a beauty—exquisite, albeit worn-down, his lines and angles blurring together into one eager, contourless essence, and you cage him in a firm straddle—your bare thighs over his clothed ones—grinding in a whiny attempt to reach him through his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, leaning back to let him breathe. He’s sprawled out beneath you, tortuous hands already busy with tugging his tie off—impatient, clumsily nervous. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” you say at last, averting your gaze almost shyly. His fingers lurch to your hip, locking it in a gentle cradle, stilling above your backside in hesitation—asking for a laze caress, pushing your flimsy limits. As if forgetting that you never set those for him. Or, perhaps, he simply likes hearing your excited ‘yes’ every time. You can’t quite figure out which it is. 

He grabs a handful of you with reverence, and yet there’s something resilient about that grip—like he dreads that you might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on possessively enough, staring up at you with his head thrown back in a curious, admiring droop. Aiming to dispose of your shirt in a nimble pull. Plotting a sequence of kisses from neck to collarbone. 

You expect it when he rises on his elbows, then grips the bedframe to shift beneath you in a silly leap. Inelegant, but he couldn’t care less, releasing his hips from the hedge of your legs to make you slide up his crotch instead—a most welcome, brusque change that you adapt to in a squealing instant. Your moaning mouth agape under his grin. His hips thrusting through restraining fabric. Shaky. Erotic. With your arms tumbling astride his shoulders. 

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor insists in a lulling whisper, switching to a cautionary nip on your ear. “I’ve missed you, too,” he confesses somewhere into your hair, brushing through it with a tip of his nose—breathing you in through a tender whiff.  

Your words get lost in a deep fluster, rolling back into your throat and lingering there in a suffocating lump. They have you stiffening, heavy eyelids squeezing shut—a voluntarily blindfold to help you explore him through touch only. An invitation to feel you where he pleases. And, well—it just so happens that your whims align with his—a cohesive, welcome collateral. 

Viktor starts at the slope of your shoulder. Pulls the shirt down and traces that lovely curve—fingers first. Throws a brief, askance glance at your face to make sure that your eyes are closed, and, when met with the flutter of your lashes, gets back to his lovely tease. Tender, warm lips taste your skin with delicious, savoring sounds. Getting wetter when his tongue makes a fickle appearance—leaves a slick, capricious lick in the dip of your collarbone, fluffy hair tickling your face when he bends to tend to your chest, too—and you shiver as he sucks a plum love-stain that you’ll proudly wear under your shirts. 

“See,” he cooes. “Whatever gets into you must be contagious.” 

You give in to a half-lidded peek and find him begging for your assistance—a sweet request that you understand in half-nod. Arms up in the air and over your clouded head when he unleashes your skin from the thin garment—throws it on the floor for you to find later in the morning. 

“But it feels wrong.” You sigh. “Ever since we found out…”

“I’d rather you quit talking about that in bed, please,” Viktor reproaches, eyes heady with want. His fingers slide into your underwear, contemplating its fate—should he make it join your shirt or pull it to the side in hasty fashion? Either approach had him shivering at the thought. 

But the sudden sorrow stops the rush, rendering your urge for consolation. It wraps you around him all over again, legs locking in a tangle around his waist, drooping hands combing through his hair in a brusque, fervent tug. Seeking succor. Heart to heart and thumping an anxious march. 

“I’m afraid,” you admit, but it’s not a revelation. All shuddering shoulders under his idolatrous caress, and you pang with guilt at that, too—it’s you who should be fondling him this delicately, warm reassurance seeping into his ears—not yours. But Viktor wants to be your comfort. If anything, it’s the only thing on his mind.

“What are you afraid of, beloved?” A little shiver at the unforeign endearment—a rare occasion. His thick brows still drawn together in a concerned arc. They relax only when you rake your fingers down his body—counting ribs, toying anxiously. The hurry is gone, there’s only caution now: his enamored eyes, waiting for you to find your slippery words. 

“Of losing you before I get to show you how much I love you.” You whisper, suddenly tasting teary salt in your mouth. His thumb comes to the rescue, swiftly flicking the wet trails. So you chuckle at the affection in a silly stagger to bump sweaty foreheads together.

“Nonsense,” he insists. “You’re showing me right now.”

“Indeed.” You shrug. “But… Is this the right way?” 

And when he puts your palm over his eager heartbeat, you’re reminded not to ask him rhetorical questions. 

—

tags: @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @nausicaaandhermouth @thehistoriangirl @vyshnevska

[amomentsescape]

Slashers handling ovulating s/o?? 😚

Btw I love your work so much! You’re amazing

Slashers with Ovulating! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo

Warnings: MDNI, suggestive and mature content (It gets pretty steamy but nothing too crazy)

A/N: Definitely the most NSFW fic I've posted on this page. As a reminder, I don't write smut so this will probably be as steamy as I get for my posts. But this was a fun request, and I enjoyed writing for it! Thank you, Anon!

Freddy Krueger

Your dreams give you away

(Yes, he'll watch your dreams if he's not already controlling them; there's no privacy with this man)

And he's very interested in these dreams you've been having recently

It only takes a couple for Freddy to quickly snap

You'll go to sleep one night only to find yourself immediately in Freddy's domain

The setting and environment feeling very familiar somehow

You won't see him at first, but you'll definitely feel him around you, his voice echoing around the dreamscape

"Wanna make those dreams come true, baby?" he cackles throughout the darkness

Before you'll be able to respond, you'll feel his hand slide over your waist

The question was mostly out of politeness

He's not going to let you say no now that he has you (not that you were going to anyways)

Michael Myers

He picks up on everything in an instant

Your smell, your actions, your voice- literally everything is screaming at him

Now, Michael has a lot of self-discipline

He could just go about the day like usual and not need to indulge in anything

But he wants to

Don't mistaken this for "giving in"

It's just another way for him to put himself in control

You're just so desperate for him that he can just about get away with anything he wants

A simple touch has you weak in the knees, a slap on the ass has you arching your back

He could just absolutely ruin you these next few days

And he is very much planning on doing so

Jason Voorhees

Jason is fairly innocent when it comes to this sort of topic with you

But unlike Bubba, he does pick up on your teasing after a bit, he's just too flustered to do anything back

He loves the attention, but the way you're making him feel is causing him to freeze up and blush wildly under his mask

He knows you love him, but he can't understand how someone like you could possibly desire someone like him

He can't even hold eye contact with you when you're looking at him like that

When you've finally grown too impatient, you'll hop on his lap and grab his cheek, forcing him to look at you

He'll give you a big sigh and concerned eyes, silently asking if you're sure

"Jason. I want you. I want you and only you."

Those words must have been laced with magic, because a switch flips, and he's suddenly standing up, holding you bridal style

He'll toss you onto the bed and crawl on top, suddenly more confident than earlier

Looks like all he needs is a little bit of reassurance during this time of the month

Thomas Hewitt

It might just be the primal side of him, but he can literally smell it

Your pheromones during this time of month are always consistent to the point that he anticipates this weeks in advance

He lingers around you more often than normal (which isn't saying much since he stays near you 99% of the time anyways)

He's just waiting for the moment that you'll let him take a bite

And if you bump into him just slightly, his breath hitches and he'll freeze, hoping maybe you'll turn that bump into something more

Stands a little too close to you so he can breathe in your scent

But he's also hoping it'll increase the chance of you rubbing up against him on "accident"

This only makes things worse for the both of you until you two are finally alone together

All you have to do is give him that look, and he's throwing you over his shoulder, locking you two away for the night

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is a very innocent man

He didn't even really know what the concept of "sex" was before you

So unfortunately for you, pulling out all stops will quite literally do nothing

You could stand there completely bare in front of him, and he'll sweetly think you want to shower

That's not to say you're constant touches and flirting don't do anything for him

They do, he just doesn't understand what that feeling is yet

When you finally get to be alone with him, you'll gently let your hands wander, watching carefully at his reactions

Once you hit a sensitive spot, you'll know

His breath will hitch and he'll give you this soft, pleading look

And once you kiss him, that fire inside him will quickly engulf his body

You just have to give him a sweet questioning glance, and he'll be feverishly nodding his head, grabbing at your wrists to continue

Brahms Heelshire

To be honest, whether or not your ovulating doesn't really change how Brahms acts around you day to day

Because he is always down bad for you

But he does appreciate how quickly you seem to return his advances during this time of the month

He enjoys turning it into some sort of game when he can too

You'll feel his breath on your neck, only to be met with an empty room

You'll feel his gaze on you all throughout the house without a single sight of his whereabouts

When you finally have had enough, you'll break

Turning on the shower peaks his interest

And the moment he sees that first button of your top open, he's revealing himself from the walls

You've been working so hard for him today

He thinks it's time for you to finally relax

Norman Bates

Norman knows before you do

The sweet man tracks your cycles for you, always wanting to be prepared to care for you in the way you need

But this time of month isn't one where he feels too bold

He becomes even more shy somehow, having trouble holding eye contact

Every kiss or hug from you sets him aflame, and he turns into a blushing mess

It's honestly like he's the one who's ovulating

And all you have to do is hold him for just a little bit too long and whisper in his ear to make him break

He'll quite literally fall to his knees in front of you, waiting for anything

He'll do whatever it is you ask

Like I said, he wants to care for you in any way you need

Billy Loomis

He tries to be smug about everything

You're more affectionate than normal, even doing some PDA that he's not used to from you

He just acts like his usual self out in public

But the moment you two are alone, he confronts you

He'll pin you against the door, his free hand wandering across your skin while he looks at you with dark eyes

"You think I can't see what you're doing? It's not very nice of you to be such a tease."

His voice is barely above a whisper while his grip on you tightens

His wandering hand finds the most sensitive spot on you and squeezes, causing you to let out a whimper

He smiles in return

"You're going to have to do better than that to make it up to me," he whispers, leaning in gently

Stu Macher

Look at this guy

He literally can't keep his tongue in his mouth (sorry, bad joke)

He can tell something is up though

You're more cuddly than usual, practically sitting on his lap at all points during the day

And Stu does not mind one bit, but he isn't sure what's gotten into you

You're hoping he'll take the hint, but he's as oblivious as he is happy

It's only when you straddle his lap and kiss him deeply that he understands what's going on

His hands are on you in an instant

He'll happily oblige to your "demands"

Just be careful when and where you decide to break though

Because the moment you open that door, Stu will be having you in that instant

And if he has to pull you into a broom closet in public to do so...

He will

Vincent Sinclair

Despite barely seeing the light of day most of his life, he's fairly knowledgeable about everything

But unlike his brother, he doesn't really get driven up the wall by this time of the month

He just wants you to be happy, so if being flirted with and touched every two seconds is what you want, he'll happily go along with it

Even though his face feels like it's going to burn off again every time

He won't initiate anything, but he also won't say no to anything you do

Just guide his hands and tell him what you need, and he'll be helping you out instantly

He doesn't even expect anything in return

But when you smile at him just like that, his brain might short circuit

He'll be your slave if you ask nicely

Bo Sinclair

Bo is, well, Bo

He sometimes acts like he can't tell or that he's too "deep" into his work at the moment to be bothered

But he knows

And he loves the feeling of being needed and desired

You'll come up to him, hugging him for a bit too long, your hands lingering on his chest and torso

He likes to play coy

He wants to see you break first

He'll happily make it worse for you too

Hands on your waist, a gentle caress of your neck, that piercing gaze of his

He can see your face flush and body practically tremble at his actions

But he won't do anything about it

It won't be until the end of the day when he finally comes back home to find you already waiting at the door

You about have to throw yourself onto him before that smile finally breaks out onto his face

"So impatient, aren't we darlin'? Gonna show me just how badly you need me?"

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Thank you the anon who sent in this request, it was such fun to write this!

L&DS Masterlist / Sylus Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time. 

You two didn’t get along. 

Sylus knew this. 

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip. 

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious. 

You were planning something. 

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions. 

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed. 

But it wasn’t. 

There were no stray feathers. 

No shards of metal. 

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you. 

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it. 

And instead of his home  being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent. 

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall. 

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends. 

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling. 

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes. 

He needed answers. 

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention. 

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you. 

You changed him. 

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed  along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence. 

Everything. 

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you. 

Needed to see you. 

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that. 

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume. 

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully. 

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling. 

Jealousy however was. 

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto. 

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends? 

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd. 

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked. 

Mephisto though was different. 

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken. 

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up. 

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him. 

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making. 

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions. 

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him. 

He was becoming as infuriating as you were. 

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in. 

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you. 

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts. 

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed. 

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him. 

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips. 

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way. 

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto. 

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips. 

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus. 

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers. 

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him. 

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment. 

You already knew why. 

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you. 

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear. 

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear. 

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you. 

“Thought you two didn’t get along?”  He asked quietly. 

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another. 

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan. 

A plan to make Sylus jealous. 

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him. 

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart. 

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question. 

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you. 

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips. 

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss. 

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly. 

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed. 

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @inlovewithsylus

[realcube]

dilf december

day eleven ⭑ ushijima wakatoshi ⭑ time for christmas kids?

tw: nsfw minors dni, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, riding, squirting, size kink and cervix bruising

to everyone's surprise, ushijima was strangely receptive and understanding when his contract with the swedish adlers expired and they didn't renew it for the next season; telling him they didn't make the decision out of ill-intent, they just think it's time for him to retire.

there was nothing stopping ushijima from simply trying out for another team. he'd likely have no problem finding another one that would except him, despite him being thirty-five, since he is still fit and healthy.

however, shockingly, ushijima took the adler's advice.

this was unlike him as all throughout his career, he has vehemently protested whenever anyone even alludes to his retirement, insisting that he will remain on the volleyball court until his legs give out from under him.

and although that is true to some extent, because he often visits the court and plays games recreationally while in retirement, it still puzzled you as to why he switched tempo so suddenly.

although, you weren't going to complain, as since leaving the swedish adlers you've been able to spend a lot more time with him than you usually did, which is always nice, especially around the holiday season. you almost felt greedy having him all to yourself: no useless teammates blowing up his phone and no whiny managers asking to meet with him. just love and peace on earth!

that is, until you remembered a conversation you've been having with him ever since the beginning of your marriage.

"when are we going to have kids, toshi?" you would look up at him with boiling anticipation in your eyes.

and though he'd appreciate your eagerness, he'd frown and reply sternly, "i don't have the time to raise kids, currently. i don't think i will ever have the time while i am employed as an athlete. we should have this discussion once i retire."

you grumbled, "but you literally always say that you're never going to retire?"

"that's true, though i might fall into unexpected circumstances. say, if i am hit by a train."

"or my car." you'd comment with a titter.

it was funny and light-hearted dialogue back then, but now that you had both matured and grown in your relationship, you find that particular topic of disucssion to be more pressing. especially as you have fallen into what ushijima may describe as "unexpected circumstances" where he now has all the time in the world to help you raise a child.

so, you decide to bring this point to his attention one night, before bed.

the outside is consumed with darkness and your back windows are virtually blackened; it reflects the flickering light of the festive scented candles placed around the room. wafting the smell of freshly baked cookies through the space, pleasing your nose like a warm hug, while your focus constantly shifts between the tv screen and your husband, who is sat beside you on the couch with his eyes drilled into a book while you lounged in your fluffy robe.

you weren't paying attention to the show currently playing at all. no, it was simply background noise to the chorus of worries and perpetual screaming in your mind, as you mulled over whether or not now was a good time to bring up the topic you so desperately wanted to discuss. the last thing you'd want to do is disturb the peaceful night you were sharing and cause tension in the household.

but if you can't talk to your husband about something that is important to you, what is the point of getting married?

you swallow your pride and inhibitions with an audible gulp, then croak, "wakatoshi?"

"yes, dear." he replies in his usual blunt manner, not glancing up from the pages.

"do you remember a while ago when we talked about having kids?" you said timidly, so quiet that ushijima could barely hear you over the noise of the tv. so he pauses the show, and replies,

"yes, i think i do remember."

hsi face is so stern and unwavering; it's hard to tell if that is due to his natural stoic nature, or if he truly does not care for what you are saying. for the sake of your self-esteem, you assume its the first one, and continue talking.

or, at least, you try to. it's quite hard when your heart is pounding so harshly in your chest that you feel it could leap out of your throat at any given moment. "you said we should talk about it when you retire. so, have you given it any thought?"

he furrows his eyebrows together, and stares into the distance. a couple seconds pass, and he closes his book too, placing it to the side in order to focus on pondering your question.

it takes a minute, but he finally responds, "yes, i have."

you blink, expecting him to continue, so when he doesn't, you urge him to do so, "and?"

"and i think it's a great idea. now is the perfect time to have child." he says it in such a dry manner that any onlooker would think he was being sarcastic, but you know your husband all too well, and you can pick up on the subtle signs of sincerity in his cadence.

your whole face lights up, and you perk up in your seat, "really? that's amazing news, toshi!" you squeal, lunging forward and throwing yourself into his arms. and as always, he's ready to catch you in his strong arms and hold you close for however long you need.

as your melting into the hug, wakatoshi uses his gentle grip on your waist to pull you onto his lap, only so you could be even closer together. he peppers kisses up your neck and across your shoulderblade, while his hand sneaks behind your thigh.

at first you think nothing of it, as you know your husband enjoys a sneaky little grab at your ass sometimes. however, when his squishing slowly turns into rubbing, and his target moves from your perky ass to in-between your thighs, you gasp at the realisation and stagger, "oh, you meant like.. right now?"

you jerk away from him, and he meets your shocked expression with an entirely blank look on his face, "of course."

you blink, and so does he. considering it for a moment, it only takes you a couple seconds to land on the conclusion that there is no time like the present.

thus, you slip your arms around his broad shoulders again and pull him in for a passionate kiss; lips sensually weaving together, as you bounce on his lap a little, prompting him to continue his risky endeavours.

originally, both hands are fixed on your waist. however, he slips one down under your robe in order to rub your clit. he was expecting you to be wearing undergarments underneath the robe, but he was in for a pleasant surprise when his palm made direct contact with your damp folds, and you feel him smirk into the kiss slightly, causing you to titter.

meanwhile, his other hand swiftly got to work on pulling down the elastic of his sweats and whipping out his hardened length. while the two of you were still engaged in a heated make-out session, and his fingers were still working at your clit, he stroked himself a lazily, in an attempt to temporarily satiate his desperate hunger, but his mere hand couldn't even come close to the homey grip of your pussy. he needed to be encased in your walls urgently.

soon though, after a couple more minutes of harsh action on your clit, he reckoned you would be wet enough to take him by now. and he tested this hypothesis by dipping two meaty fingers into your pussy, stretching it out and causing you to arch your back as waves of unexpected stimulation shoot through you.

your whiney moans vibrate against his tongue, as you are still locked in an intimate kiss, and he furrows his brows in thought, prodding and stirring his fingers around your insides to assess whether your hole was lubricated enough for him to enter. and with each poke at your gummy walls, he sends another lewd moan winding down to your lips.

he yanks his fingers out, deciding that however wet you were right now would have to do because he wasn't able to wait any longer.

with that, he uses the same hand to manoeuvre his cock so it was hovering right by your dripping enterance, allowing this tip to be greased with your arousal. in doing so, you are pushed back a bit, forcing you to break free from the intense kiss with a dramatic gasp. you look at him, with your pretty chest floating up and down with each shallow breath.

he looks you in the eye sternly, with a kind glint his iris, waiting for your approval.

you nod slightly, but before you are even able to processs your own response, he's already pushed you down around his girthy length, forcing your tight pussy to suck it all up, somehow.

your eyes rolled back into your head as he did so, and an obscene, pornographic whine was pried from your throat. ushijima basked in it for only a moment before he made you ride his cock by using his grip on your waist. he set a relatively slow pace to begin with, allowing your gracious hole some time to adjust to his length, but it wasn't nearly enough.

despite that, he hastily quickened his pace, bucking his hips slightly into you with every bounce, meaning he would brush your cervix with his tip, which caused you to grunt and mewl each time. you appreciated he was trying to be thorough and having him so deep inside you might increase the chances of fertility, but you weren't entirely sure if it was worth having your cervix brusied for.

the veins on his length rubbed the most delicious parts inside you, it was like he was scratching an itch you weren't even aware of until now. your cheeks and the tips of your ear heated up with pure pleasure, and you could feel him getting warmer under your touch as well. meanwhile the molten coil inside you was only growing more rigid by the second, threatening to crumble at any moment.

his dick rammed into your hole repeatedly, at an increasingly feverish pace, eliciting a short moan or grunt from you each time, and your whole body shook. therefore, ushijima had no idea where to look — he was spoiled for choice — although he revelled in watching your tits bounce wildly around and threaten to escape the confines of your robe, he was also partially mesmerised by the way your perfect cunt consumed him so nicely.

"tight.." was all he was able to grit.

you nod, but you're too fucked out to even muster up a coherent response; your mind was almost as scrambled as your insides.

with how his dick was ploughing into your poor pussy, it wasn't long until the coil inside you snapped and you found yourself suddenly shaking and tremoring while you squirted around him, unleashing a dam of crystalline fluid over his sweats and the couch.

and the harsh squeeze of your pussy around his cock was enough to tip him over the edge of a climax too, and he groaned lowly with his eyes shut as he deposited his first load into your hole. thick warmth flooding your insides in an instant, sticking to your walls and leaving you conjested.

he stayed there for a moment, to allow you both to catch your breathes, and he pried one of his eyes open to look at your beautifully dishevelled state, "thank you, (y/n)."

you chuckle, and rest your weary head on his shoulder, "thank you, toshi."

"no, thank you." he looks down at your stomach, and strokes it tenderly with his big hand, "i can't wait to see you carry our baby."

you pout, gazing up at his cute dumb face, illuminated only by the coloured tv light, which cast shadows over his strong features. you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, and sunk into his embrace, "i can't wait either. you'll be such a good dad." you muse, dreamily.

meanwhile, he slowly eases his cock out of your hole, provoking a small hiss from you at the change. but little did you know, he was kind enough to stick his three fingers in immediately afterwards, so none of his cum threatened to spill from your leaky pussy.

"and you will be a good mother." he assures you softly, snaking an arm behind your neck to cradle your head in arms.

then, to your surprise, he utilised this position in order to flip the two of you, so you were laying face up with your back against the couch, and he was kneeling between your legs, which he pushed spread-eagle by your knees.

it all happened so quickly, that you were already in the position before you were able to gasp, "huh?! what're you doing?"

"round two." he keeps his three fingers stuffed in your pussy while he uses his other hand to guide his erect dick towards your hole, "for the best chance of pregnancy."

[logoleptic-since-06]

Every Corner of This House is Haunted

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, Marriage in Crisis, Angst, Reader and Nanami are in their 30s, Not Proofread

Chapter I ■ Chapter II ■ Chapter III ■ Chapter IV ■ Chapter V ■ Chapter VI ■ Chapter VII

“I want a divorce.”

The silence after you utter those words pierces through your mind, making you second guess your comment. You don’t want to repeat them, afraid the next time you say the words, you won’t even mean it. Kento simply continues driving, pretending like you never spoke. Anxiety blooms in your chest, so tightening you almost feel as though you can’t breathe.

Once you reach your apartment building and get on the elevator, you give into your nerves.

“Kento,” you call.

He looks up from his phone. “Hm?”

You push back the tears that are so desperate to come out of your eyes. “You heard me.” Your voice is barely a whisper. The elevator rings and he steps out into your penthouse. 

“Kento!” you finally shout.

He turns around with a stern expression masking his face. “What?”

“Please.”

“You’re being ridiculous. There’s no need for you to say something like that.”

Letting out an exasperated scoff, you hear your voice break as you speak. “You cannot possibly be saying that, Kento, when you damn fucking well know we haven’t even talked in ages.”

“Yes, we have,” he claims calmly.

“No, Kento, we haven’t. And see this is the issue– you don’t even realise we may be drifting apart.”

“We aren’t drifting apart.”

“Stop invalidating me like that!” you snap. “You think you’re so mature and you know every fucking thing when in reality you’ve grown emotionally unavailable. You only talk about work, we never go out on dates, and when was the last time you kissed me Kento?”

His demeanour shifts slightly, which makes you wonder if he realises his faults.

“We are both busy, my love.”

“Too busy to even see each other?”

He sighs. “You’re right. I have been neglecting you.” He comes forwards and touches your arms. “How about you give me a chance? Let me take you out on a date tomorrow.”

You look into his eyes, the same ones you fell in love with so many years ago, the ones that feel like an ocean you can happily drown in. He pulls you into a hug and you melt, his arms both your greatest kryptonite and strongest warrior. How could you ever leave him?

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says, his voice as soft as ever. “I’ll make it right, I promise. Be ready at 7pm tomorrow, okay?”

–

The next day rolls in in a matter of moments. As Kento sits behind his desk at his office with his thoughts laminated with guilt, his mind replays the moments you said you wanted a divorce. He had felt his life flash before his eyes, like someone ripped his heart apart from his ribcage. Had he been so blinded by ambition and competence that he forgot to consider the feelings of the reason he breathes?

“Sir?” the voice of his assistant breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“The clients are here, the meeting can start now.”

–

Hours pass in the meeting, but eventually, the deal is finalized. Kento returns to his cabin and relaxes into his chair, satisfied with himself. Stretching out his arms, he finally peeks into his phone that seems to be flooded with notifications from you. Why would you send him so many–

Oh.

Fuck.

He checks the time. It’s 9:42 PM. The meeting had taken longer than it should have. But worst of all, he had forgotten about the plans with you. With shaking hands, he sprints out of his office, maniacally driving to your place.

He stumbles out of the elevator. “Y/N,” he calls out. “I’m so sorry for being late, my love, I was occupied with very important clients.” He goes up to your bedroom and opens the door, expecting to find you there.

“Y/N?” he calls out again when he doesn’t. His heart almost leaps out of his chest as he hysterically moves around the house, shouting out your name and calling your phone. All to only be responded with nothing. 

You were gone.

A/N: Sorry, I was feeling a little silly. 🤭

[saythenametotheworld]

Did You Like Her in the Morning? | c.vn (18+)

How do you move on from the man you thought you'd marry? You can't. As you navigate the bittersweet memories of your shared dreams, you are forced to grapple with the harsh reality that Vernon has found someone new.

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: strangers to lovers (to exes), smut Pairing: Chwe Vernon x afab!Reader Warnings: angstyyy, mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), cheating!!! Notes: 27k words. Part 4 of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Did You Like Her in the Morning by NIKI. This was too long and I tried to cut it down but I couldn't leave anything out lol. ENJOY~~ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Did You Like Her in the Morning by NIKI, champagne problems by Taylor Swift, Fine by Taeyeon, His Car Isn't Yours by Wendy ,

“What are you making?” you heard Vernon’s familiar voice behind you as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his embrace. He pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, and you leaned back into him.

“Eggs,” you replied, smiling as you rolled the omelet in the pan.

Vernon hummed, nuzzling his nose against your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. “I love eggs.”

“Good,” you chuckled, basking in the gentle intimacy. “Because that's all we have. We need groceries.”

“Then let's go together later,” he murmured, turning you to face him.

You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend, handsome in the morning light filtering through the windows of your shared apartment. There were remnants of sleep in his half-lidded eyes and messy locks of brown hair. His lopsided smile was something you’d grown familiar with but still couldn’t get enough of. He was beautiful in a way that made your chest tighten with love and disbelief.

You lifted the spatula, careful not to graze his neck as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tiptoeing, you pressed a brief but tender kiss to his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

“The best sleep I’ve had in days,” he murmured, his voice low as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered on your cheek, thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. “Thanks to you.”

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth in your chest spread. “You’re welcome,” you teased, “but go set the table. Let’s eat breakfast before we leave for work.”

He grinned, but instead of pulling away, he tugged you closer. “Breakfast is good, yes, but…” He paused, one hand traveling down the length of your spine and stopping at your backside. He cupped it with his hand, squeezing ever so gently as he pressed his lips on your ear. “There’s someone else I wanna eat.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “Now, now,” you said calmly, putting your hands on his chest and pushing him back slightly. “Food first.”

You turned back to the stove, turned it off, and put the rolled omelet on a plate. Vernon followed behind you, unable to keep his hands to himself as he tried to touch you everywhere while trailing kisses on your neck and jaw.

“Nonie,” you chided softly, though your body was doing something else entirely—tilting your head to the side so he could nip at your neck with ease. You let out a soft sigh—warmth and goosebumps spreading through you when he sucked on your skin.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, hand cupping your breast as he ravished your neck again.

Then, without warning, the world shifted. The comforting scent of eggs and the morning light faded. Your eyes fluttered open, and instead of Vernon’s embrace, you were met with the cold, dull gray of the ceiling above you. The room was deafeningly quiet save for the faint hum of the air-conditioning cutting through the silence.

You opened your mouth to breathe, eyes darting around the room as you tried to transition out of your dream and back into the dreary reality of your present. The faint ache in your chest grew sharper as you slowly sat up, pressing the heel of your hand to your temple, trying to shake away the dream—no, the memory that you thought would not visit you again until today.

On your nightstand, your alarm clock was glowing, highlighting bright red numbers, 9:30 pm. “Fuck this,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your hands over your face.

In need of fresh air, you stepped out of your quarters and trekked the quiet hallways of the hotel, heavy thoughts weighing on your chest. Walking without a set direction brought you to the hotel bar, where the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses provided a welcome intrusion to your scattered thoughts. Your eyes scanned the room, landing on Seungcheol, nursing a drink alone at the bar.

Sighing, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning on the entryway as you watched him curiously. This enigmatic stranger came to your hotel seeking services in the form of storytelling. When you think about it, it was a strange request, asking a stranger to share anecdotes of her past relationships and why they failed. But now that you were watching him from this distance, with his eyes locked on his glass seemingly lost in his thoughts, maybe it wasn’t a strange request after all. Maybe, behind the enigma that is Choi Seungcheol, was a lonely man trying to make sense of the things that had caused his own relationship to fail.

“Whatever,” you muttered, walking straight toward him.

He looked up as you approached, surprise and relief washing over his face. “Good evening.”

You nodded, sliding onto the stool beside him. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please do.” He gestured to the bartender for another drink. “Your company is most welcome.”

You took a moment, watching the bartender pour your drink and push it toward you. Then for a second, you stared at it, swirling the contents of your glass. “How do you move on from the person you thought you were gonna spend the rest of your life with?”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Is this another story? I’m all ears.”

You took a sip of your drink, the spice lining your throat and leaving a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. “Alright then. Tonight, I’ll tell you about Vernon Chwe.”

“The one that got away?” he asked, leaning in with curiosity.

“Something like that,” you replied, your mind drifting back to memories that felt so fresh, that one would think it all happened yesterday.

Blind dating was a game of hit or miss. At least, that’s what you believed. When Mina set you up with her friend’s friend, you’d expected it to be just like any other blind date—awkward, forced, and uncomfortable, not that you’d been in one before. This was your first, and you almost didn’t show up if not for Mina’s insistence that you only need to do it this once then she wouldn’t bother you again if you ended up disliking the whole thing. 

With lowered expectations, you walked into the restaurant, bracing yourself for nothing more than polite small talk between two people who didn’t want to be there. You weren't expecting much—a brief chat, maybe a rushed cup of coffee, and then an awkward goodbye.

The cafe staff pointed you to his table and you approached carefully, studying the back of his head.

“Mr. Vernon Chwe?” you prompted politely, peeking slightly at his face.

He glanced up at you and you were momentarily caught off-guard by the gorgeous pair of light brown eyes. His appearance alone was already surpassing your expectations by miles. 

“Yes, hi!” he greeted, standing up at once and offering his hand for a shake. He said your name and it rolled off his tongue effortlessly, as if he had practiced it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He was well-dressed in a neat white shirt and a light brown button-down, the sleeves rolled just enough to look casual but put together. His hair—neatly styled yet effortlessly tousled—framed his face perfectly. And that face? Sculpted, handsome, with sharp features softened by a warm, welcoming smile.

“The pleasure’s mine,” you replied.

When he moved to pull out your chair, it didn’t feel forced or like he was 'trying too hard.' His gestures were smooth and respectful, like second nature. You blinked, trying to keep your surprise in check as you took the seat he offered.

“Thank you,” you said, setting your purse aside as he sat across from you, his movements just as easy, just as considerate.

“How was the commute? I hope it wasn’t too far for you,” he began, right as the waitress handed you menus.

“Oh, no, not at all,” you said, smiling. “I actually walked here. I live nearby.”

“That’s a relief,” he replied, his tone sincere, as if your comfort genuinely mattered to him. You were struck not only by his appearance but by how well-spoken he was. His voice was steady, polite, and confident without a trace of arrogance.

After you both placed your orders, there was a pause. But it wasn’t the dreaded awkward silence you had imagined. Vernon didn’t rush to fill the space with idle chatter. He simply sat there, watching you with attentive eyes, as though he had all the time in the world. You noticed then how carefully he observed you—his gaze steady but not overbearing, his expression open and genuinely curious.

You nodded, feeling more at ease than you expected. “Yeah, I do. And you’re in… software development, right?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, leaning back in his chair. “But I promise I won’t bore you with tech talk.”

His playful smile made you laugh softly, and the ease with which the conversation flowed caught you off guard. It was seamless. No awkward pauses, no forced topics. And Vernon wasn’t just polite—he was thoughtful. He asked questions about your life, your interests, your thoughts on books and movies. And he listened, really listened, like every word you said was worth considering. Every now and then, he’d tilt his head slightly, his smile never far from his lips and his attention never wavering.

Time passed quicker than you realized. The conversation was so comfortable, so engaging, that it wasn’t until your phone buzzed that you noticed the hour.

“Oh no,” you murmured, frowning at the time. “I’d love to stay longer, but I have work tomorrow.”

“I understand,” Vernon replied, smiling warmly. “It’s getting late anyway. Shall we head out?”

He offered to walk you home, and you didn’t hesitate to accept. The night was cool, the air crisp as the two of you strolled through the quiet streets. You kept chatting until you reached your apartment complex. You couldn’t help but linger just a little longer under the streetlights, hoping time would stretch on and you could spend more time together.

“I had a really great time tonight,” you admitted, slightly embarrassed by how much you meant it.

“I’m glad,” Vernon replied, turning to face you. His eyes sparkled under the light, and for a second, you forgot where you were. “I’d love to do this again if you’d allow it.”

You paused, not because you were unsure, but because it felt almost too good to be true. You hadn’t expected this. Not from a blind date. And yet, here you were, standing in front of your apartment, feeling something stir in your chest that hadn’t been there at the start of the evening.

“Yeah,” you answered, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, and there it was again—that effortless charm. Everything about him—from the way he carried himself to the way he spoke—felt disarmingly natural. His manners, his attentiveness, his respect for your space, all of it was impeccable. This was a man who knew how to make someone feel seen and heard. It was almost unsettling how easily you connected with him.

Before parting ways, he took a step closer, his hand brushing gently against your arm in the most careful, respectful way. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice low.

“Goodnight, Vernon,” you whispered.

And just like that, Vernon Chwe became someone you couldn’t stop thinking about. The blind date you thought would be awkward and forgettable had turned into the beginning of something promising.

“Tell me everything!” Mina gushed when she Facetimed you the next day. “Don’t skip a detail. What happened?”

“Aren’t you too energetic for a Monday morning?” you teased, patting moisturizer into your skin.

“Paul said Vernon kept talking about you after the date. Does that mean it went well?”

You smiled, remembering last night, and Mina caught on immediately. She clapped her hands. “It did! Oh my God! How was it?”

“It was great,” you replied, trying to sound casual but failing because you couldn’t stop smiling. “Vernon was... really great. He was nice, polite, funny—and he’s handsome too.”

You told her about the date while getting ready for work, and by the end of the call, Mina was patting herself on the back for setting you up. You laughed it off, but inwardly, you were grateful. She had insisted on this blind date, and now, well… things were looking good.

Later, at work, you greeted your coworkers cheerfully before settling in at your desk. It was going to be another mundane day of taking reservations and answering guest queries, but today felt different. The thought of Vernon had put a little extra bounce in your step.

“You look happy,” asked Sally, a coworker and a friend. “Date went well, I take it?”

“It went amazing, Sal. Don’t be surprised when I get a boyfriend in the next few weeks,” you chimed, lifting your shoulders with pride.

Sally sighed, leaning her elbow on the back of your chair. “Guess I’ll be eating my dinners alone from now on.”

“I hope not,” you chuckled. “And let’s not count our chickens before they hatch. We still have a long way to go.”

“You’re the one who’s talking about having a boyfriend!” she chided playfully, nudging your shoulder. As she walked away, the phone rang, so you took it to your ear.

“Diamond Hotel, how may I help you today?” you asked with practiced ease.

“Hi, is this…” The man on the line said your name.

“Yes, this is she. How can I assist you?”

“I’m calling to reserve a table at the Diamond Hotel Restaurant.”

You started typing away, already processing his request. “Can I have your name for the reservation? And when would you like it?”

“It’s uh… Vernon Chwe.”

You paused, fingers hovering over the keys as you wondered if you’d heard him right. “Vernon Chwe?” you repeated, heart racing at just the mention of his name.

“Yes,” he answered, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “I’m booking a table for two, but only if my date agrees to dinner on Friday night.”

He has a date? You pondered, a sudden pang of disappointment hitting you. That was quite unexpected. You just went on a date with him last night and you thought it had gone well. Now he has another date?

You chased your thoughts away, maintaining a professional tone when you said, “I’m sure she’d love to if you asked nicely, Mr. Chwe. The hotel restaurant has an impeccable menu.”

“You think so?” Vernon asked, sounding curious.

“Absolutely.”

“What’s your favorite off the menu?”

You hummed thoughtfully, pulling up the list of recommendations on your computer. “There are a few things I can recommend, but I’d suggest you check out the Menu of the Day once you get there.”

“I see, but I need to know your favorite so I can remember to order it for you.”

Ah, now you got it. You smiled, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. “Mr. Chwe, shouldn’t you ask your date first if she’s available Friday night?” 

“Well, are you available Friday night?”

“Maybe,” you chimed.

Came Friday night, you met him outside your workplace, told him you canceled his reservation, and asked him to take you elsewhere. 

“I lied about the hotel menu,” you said as soon as you approached him. “All fancy stuff, nothing that’s actually good. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Vernon laughed at your admission, throwing his head back as he casually offered his arm for you to hold onto. “So? Where should we go then?”

“Actually, I’m not sure,” you replied, sliding your hand around his elbow before you started walking down the sidewalk. “I know a place just around the block. Their fajitas are to die for.”

“Alright, then. Lead the way.”

Without thinking much about it, Friday nights became your thing. Vernon would pick you up after work, his car always parked at the same spot by the entrance, and from there, you’d go from one spot to another, trying different foods and discovering new places together. At first, he insisted on taking you to posh restaurants—decent places with cloth napkins and polished silverware. It was sweet, but you could tell he was trying a bit too hard and you didn’t want him to do that—especially considering the startup company that he had just launched with his friend.

One night, after yet another fancy dinner, you decided it was time for a change. You took him to a small, family-owned burger joint tucked between two larger chain restaurants. It was far from glamorous, but it had character—and, as you both agreed, the best fries in the city.

“See?” you said, grinning triumphantly as you dipped another fry into ketchup. “Hidden gem.”

Vernon chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied expression. “I guess I should’ve let you pick the places from the start.”

“It’s a perk that comes with working in the hospitality industry. You get to know where the best places in the city are,” you replied with mock arrogance, making him laugh again.

You watched him for a bit, taking in his easy demeanor and the slight flush on his cheek caused by laughing. He took some fries, dipped them in the sauce, and ate with gusto.

“I like this better than seared salmon. What do you think?” you asked.

Vernon glanced over, his eyebrow quirking in surprise. He seemed to understand what you were trying to imply. “Are you sure? I thought… well, I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”

“I know, I appreciate it. But I think our time and money would be better spent on food we would genuinely enjoy. Don’t you?”

He laughed, and the sound was easy and light. “I think so too.”

And from that night on, things became better. Your dates grew simpler—more relaxed and spontaneous. You spent Friday nights strolling along city streets, your hands full of fast food bags instead of wine glasses.

The pressure of formality faded, replaced by easy conversation and laughter that came naturally between bites of burgers or slices of pizza. You didn’t feel like you were trying to impress each other anymore. Instead, you were just getting to know each other—two people enjoying each other's company, no pretense, no expectations.

“You have ketchup on your chin,” Vernon pointed out one night, his eyes glinting with amusement as you wiped at your face, missing the spot completely.

“Where?” you asked, wiping again, only to have him shake his head.

“Here,” he said softly, reaching across the table to gently swipe it away with his thumb. The gesture was so natural, so intimate, that it made your heart skip a beat.

“What’s going on? Are we filming a movie or something?” you asked—an obvious attempt to defuse the growing tension between you.

“Yeah, and you’re a bad actress,” he retorted, grinning.

“Do you wanna know why?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow playfully. “It’s because God thought it wouldn’t be fair to other people if He had given me talents in acting and performing. I’d be unstoppable as a celebrity and He knew it. He had to draw the line somehow.”

You had expected him to roll his eyes, but Vernon chuckled heartily, scrunching his nose with what looked like cuteness aggression. “God made you so adorable too.”

You simply shrugged, as if to take the compliment nonchalantly despite the giddiness you were feeling inside. “Born this way. What can I do?”

You used to look forward to Fridays because it marked the start of the weekend when you needed not to go to work. Now, Fridays came with a different kind of anticipation—the kind that came in the size of a Vernon Chwe. Your ‘dates’ weren’t just dates anymore; they were a ritual, a habit, a comfort. 

You got to know each other better this way, sharing dreams and aspirations. You told him how you were on the lookout for an opportunity to write, and he talked about his startup—how it was both exciting and exhausting to build something from the ground up. You listened intently, watching as he animatedly explained the challenges he face.

“I didn’t realize how much work it would be,” he admitted, taking a bite of his burger. “Some days, it feels like I’m making progress, but other days… I don’t know. It’s like I’m just treading water.”

“You’ll get there,” you said, offering him an encouraging smile. “I mean, Mark Zuckerberg’s Facebook didn’t become a billion-dollar enterprise overnight, did it?”

Vernon glanced at you, his expression softening. “Thanks. That is oddly reassuring.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. He hadn’t said it outright, but there was a growing closeness between the two of you—a connection that went beyond the casual dates and easy conversations. It was in the way he looked at you, the way he listened to your every word, and how he valued your words like you were an important person in his life.

Bit by bit, these Friday nights were becoming something deeper. And as you sat there with him, sharing burgers and laughter, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, you’d found something you wanted to hold onto.

The more you got to know Vernon, the easier it became for him to bring you into his world. The first time you really saw him in his element was when he invited you to a tech convention as his plus-one. You hadn’t known what to expect—just a room full of serious people talking about things that flew over your head. Tech enthusiasts passionately discussing the future, engineers excitedly showcasing innovations, and the occasional investor looking polished and reserved—it was a melting pot of people who were said to be at the very core of humanity’s technological advancement.

“Come meet my business partner,” Vernon prompted, pulling your attention from the crowd. 

You followed him to a table where a small group of people stood chatting. Vernon tapped a man on the shoulder, who turned around immediately.

“Vernon! Finally. Where have you been?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, man. Traffic was brutal,” Vernon replied. “This is my friend, Boo Seungkwan. We founded the company together.”

Seungkwan gave you a grin, his eyes glinting with humor. “Nice to finally meet you, though I heard nothing about you. He’s been keeping you a secret, something about not jinxing it, whatever that meant.”

You smiled. “That’s fine. I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan leaned in, lowering his voice playfully. “Did he tell you I’m insufferable and run the place like a dictator?”

You laughed. “No, actually. He said you’re the best at managing the company’s money and keeping things together.”

Vernon shot Seungkwan a look. “See? No badmouthing.”

Seungkwan scoffed, turning back to you. “Give it time. Once you two get close enough, he’ll spill all my secrets,” he ranted jokingly, making you chuckle.

Watching Vernon in this environment where he clearly belonged made you realize how seamlessly he could move between these worlds—his professional world and the easy, laid-back version of himself you’d grown close to. While he was deeply immersed in this world, always kept an eye on you. Even in the middle of a conversation, he’d look over, checking in without saying a word.

As you settled into the flow of the event, Vernon was suddenly called up to the stage to present their latest project. He leaned in before leaving, his voice soft in your ear. “I’ll be back soon. Wish me luck.”

You smiled, giving his arm a squeeze. “Good luck!”

He flashed a quick smile before making his way to the stage. You watched as he stepped up to the podium, transforming from the Vernon you spent casual Friday nights with to the CEO Vernon Chwe—confident, composed, and incredibly eloquent.

“Good evening, everyone,” he began, his voice steady as he launched into his presentation. He spoke with passion, seamlessly balancing technical jargon with approachable explanations and engaging everyone in the room.

He looked different up there. Not in a way that made you feel distant from him, but in a way that made you see him in a new light. He wasn’t just the guy who made you laugh over greasy burgers. Up there, he was someone who commanded respect and attention—a leader, fully in control of his domain. His intelligence shone through in every word, and you couldn’t help but feel proud.

When he clicked through the last slide, the room burst into applause. Vernon gave a modest bow and stepped down from the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd until they found yours. He smiled—this time, not the professional smile he gave to the audience, but one meant just for you.

Seungkwan elbowed you lightly, leaning over to whisper, “He’s impressive, isn’t he?”

You nodded, unable to look away from Vernon as he approached. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Really impressive.”

As he reached you, Vernon sighed in relief. He glanced at Seungkwan and you. “How’d I do?”

“You were amazing,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “You looked so cool up there.”

“Yeah, so cool. You totally sold it. Investors are gonna—oh! Here comes one now.”  Seungkwan walked up to meet the man approaching your circle.

You both watched him for a bit as he engaged in a serious discussion with the man. Vernon’s touch on your elbow shifted your attention to him.

“I’m hungry. Do you wanna get out of here?” he asked, eyes gleaming with mischief. 

“Don’t you need to talk to these people?”

He shrugged. “Seungkwan will take care of it. He’s better at conversing with these people than I am.”

“You sure he won’t mind?”

“Totally,” he replied, taking your hand in his. “Let’s go.”

Vernon took you to a Mexican restaurant where you stuffed your faces with food and talked about anything and everything. After that, he said he’d show you to their office, and snuck you there in the middle of the night. 

“This feels illegal,” you told him as he led you through the dim hallways.

“Well, technically, it is. Seungkwan is pretty strict about workplace conduct, so no girlfriends in the building, and especially not in the middle of the night like this.”

“I didn’t know I was a girlfriend already,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Vernon’s eyes widened as he stammered, “No, I don’t mean— I meant girlfriends in general, not just my girlfriend specifically. What I meant was if an employee or someone in the company had a girlfriend—or boyfriend—they’re not allowed to bring them here to, you know, hang out or whatever it is that people in relationships do.”

You smirked, enjoying how flustered he had become. “You know, you were really attractive when you were talking earlier. All eloquent and smart. I didn’t think you could ever stutter like this.”

He gave you a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is that bad? Did I ruin my ‘cool’ persona?”

“Not at all,” you replied, your voice softening. “Quite the opposite. You’re cute.”

He laughed, though it was soft, nervous even. “Thanks, I guess?”

You stood together in front of the sleek glass doors of their office building, and Vernon swiped his keycard to let you in. The lights inside were dimmed, casting a soft glow over the open-concept workspace. It felt intimate, like you were stepping into a new part of Vernon’s life.

“I swear, this place is usually more lively during the day,” Vernon murmured, his voice low as if he didn’t want to disturb the quiet.

“I can tell,” you replied, eyeing the desks. There weren’t that many of them, just about a handful. The office was just large enough for less than ten employees, and you could tell they were in the earliest days of establishment.

You stopped in front of a glass-walled office room, a small one with a desk at the center and a nameplate with Vernon’s name on it. “Is this the CEO’s office?” you teased, stepping inside and running your fingers along the edge of the desk.

“Something like that,” he replied, leaning against the doorframe, watching you. His eyes were darker now, his posture more relaxed, but there was a certain intensity in the way he looked at you. “This is where Seungkwan bosses me around, and I pretend I know what I’m doing.”

“You seemed pretty convincing earlier during the presentation,” you teased. “All eloquent and smart. I didn’t expect to see you in full business mode.”

He grinned. “You liked that, huh?”

You turned to him, taking a deep breath. “It was impressive, yes,” you began, voice soft. “And I have to admit, I did want to see your office but not in the middle of the night. It feels a like we’re breaking the rules.”

Vernon chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you, hands shoved casually into his pockets. “I did say we were breaking a rule,” he said, his tone lighter. “But, for the record, I think Seungkwan would make an exception for you.”

You smirked, holding his gaze. “Would he?”

“I mean, I would,” he said, the words coming out more confident than before. He was close now, standing just a step away. “I’d definitely make an exception for you.”

There it was. The shift. The air around you seemed to hum, like the tension had finally caught up with you both. You could feel it, the way your heart started beating faster, the way Vernon’s eyes flickered between yours and your lips.

“That’s because you want to sweep me off my feet. Seungkwan doesn’t like me like that,” you teased, keeping a lighthearted tone and pressing an index finger on his chest.

He held your hand and kept it there. “Well? Am I good at sweeping you off your feet?”

“Well, you’re…” you paused, keeping your eyes locked with his as the space between you grew smaller and smaller. “...adorable.”

“Adorable, huh?” he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher around the edges. He seemed less concerned with the conversation and more focused on whatever was happening between you.

His hand came up, almost tentative, fingers brushing against the side of your face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re making it really hard to follow the rules right now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced at the closeness. “Maybe we don’t need to follow them tonight,” you replied, lips quirking into a small, daring smile.

Vernon smiled back. “I’ve never been good at following rules anyway,” he murmured, his thumb lingering just at the side of your face, his touch barely there but enough to send ripples of warmth through you.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to. Instead, you closed the space between you, rising on your toes just slightly, enough for your lips to meet his in a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was deliberate, the kind of kiss that had been building for weeks. Vernon responded in kind, his hand moving to cup the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. There was something sweet in the way he kissed you, something gentle that made your heart flutter, but there was also an undeniable heat—like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were a little breathless. “Okay,” you whispered, meeting his gaze with a teasing grin on your lips. “Now I can definitely say you’re adorable and hot.”

He laughed warmly. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Did you sleep with him?” Mina’s voice rang out, loud and direct through your phone. You hurried to cover the screen, as if that could somehow muffle her. 

“No, I didn’t!” you hissed back, your tone sharp enough to scold. “We just talked, and then he took me home. That’s it.”

“Why not?” Mina pressed, not letting it go.

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossing defensively. “I don’t know. He just… stopped halfway. Then he said he’d take me home. I think he wasn’t ready to go there yet, and honestly, I was fine with that. I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

“Girl, even if you had hooked up, there’s no way this would be a one-off. You’re way past that.”

“Right?” you agreed, thinking it over. “I thought so too. But I kinda liked that he didn’t push for more. His actions told me he wants to take things seriously with me, don’t you think?”

“Totally,” Mina said, her voice buzzing with excitement. “Oh my god, I really like this Vernon guy for you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at her enthusiasm. “I like him too. Thanks for setting us up.”

Mina made a smug sound, clearly pleased with herself. “You’re welcome. Now go make him fall madly in love with you, okay?”

You laughed, but as you ended the call, Mina’s words echoed in your mind. You hadn’t realized it until now, but you were falling for Vernon—slowly, deeply, and in a way that felt entirely different from anyone before him.

And you continued falling for him—with every Friday night spent together, with every late-night conversation when his deep voice lulled you to sleep, and with every weekend spent exploring new places and activities he thoughtfully picked out. Each moment felt more intimate than the last, a slow and steady unraveling of who you were together, effortlessly comfortable yet thrilling in its own way.

You noticed the little things that made him, well, him—his mannerisms, the politeness in his tone even when he was talking casually, his little thoughtful gestures, how he could somehow always remember exactly how you liked your coffee, or how he always made sure you were walking on the safe side of the sidewalk. These were the things that made your heart feel full, as if the entire world narrowed down to just the two of you when you were together.

One weekend, he asked if you wanted to see a movie with him—a break from your usual routine. It was one of those perfect days where everything just seemed to fall into place. The air was cool but not too cold, the traffic lights turned green just as you approached, there was barely a line at the cinema, and you got the best seats in the house. Even your popcorn tasted better than usual.

You watched the movie quietly. Every now and then, you felt Vernon’s eyes flick toward you. Whenever you caught him staring, he’d look away, only to glance back a moment later. He seemed... nervous.

Halfway through an intense scene, where the protagonist was inches away from confronting the villain, Vernon leaned in, gently tugging your elbow. 

“Can I ask you something?” he whispered, his voice barely audible under the suspenseful music. 

You blinked, startled by the interruption. “Now?”

He nodded, his smile almost sheepish. “Yeah, now.” You leaned closer, expecting him to comment on the movie or make a joke but instead, he took a deep breath.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

For a moment, you thought you’d misheard him. In the middle of a suspense movie, with the protagonist literally facing life-or-death stakes, Vernon had just asked you to be his girlfriend. You had to stifle a laugh, quickly covering your mouth to avoid disturbing the other moviegoers.

“Are you serious?” you whispered back, your eyes wide with amusement.

He nodded, his grin growing wider, though his nervousness was still apparent. “I know. I know, the timing’s weird. But I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I just couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted to ask you now. Here. I don’t know why… I just—”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was practically holding his breath, waiting for your answer. The softness of his confession, paired with the ridiculousness of the setting, made your heart swell. It was so him—earnest, sweet, and dorky all at once.

You smiled, warmth flooding through you. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend. But you know this is the worst possible time to ask, right?”

Relief washed over his face, and he chuckled softly, clearly flustered. “Yeah, I kind of panicked.”

“If I had known you were gonna do this, I would’ve picked a rom-com,” you teased.

Vernon grinned, his hand slipping into yours. “It would make a funny ‘How Your Mom and I Got Together’ story though, don’t you think?” he whispered back, eyes twinkling with that familiar Vernon charm.

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re such a dork,” you whispered, your words filled with affection. And as the suspenseful music swelled around you, you couldn’t help but think that this out-of-place, spontaneous confession was exactly the kind of memory you wanted to hold onto.

And so you’d officially become his girlfriend, and even though nothing really changed in the way he treated you—still sweet, still thoughtful—it felt different in the best way. Everything felt a little lighter, like you were walking on cloud nine.

The next morning, you woke up with an inexplicable giddiness bubbling inside you. Vernon texted you good morning with a picture of his messy bed hair and a caption that read, “Your boyfriend just woke up. Isn’t he handsome?” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling at your phone.

You: the handsomest!

In the days that followed, being in a relationship with Vernon felt like the easiest thing in the world. There was no awkward transition, no need to overthink anything. You just were together now, and it felt natural.

You spent Friday nights hanging out at your place, sometimes ordering takeout and binge-watching your favorite shows. He’d wrap his arm around you, pulling you close as you both debated whether pineapple belonged on pizza—it didn’t, according to him, but you had other opinions. His hand would absentmindedly play with your hair, and you’d find yourself smiling for no reason at all.

You found yourself getting used to all the sweet texts, random kisses on your forehead, and the way he’d always pull you closer when you least expected it. There was a sense of security in being with him, like you didn’t have to worry about anything because Vernon was there—steady and kind.

You knew you’d made the right choice. Vernon wasn’t just sweet or thoughtful—he was the kind of person who would always go the extra mile, who made you feel cared for in the smallest but most meaningful ways. And being with him was fun. There was something light and easy about it, like the two of you were building something beautiful without even realizing it.

And of course, you also found a way to keep things interesting. One weekend, you planned a surprise road trip—“Just pack a bag and drive. Don’t ask questions,” you told him over the phone.

You ended up driving to a cozy cabin by the lake, where you spent the weekend hiking, making s’mores by the fire, and cuddling under thick blankets while watching the stars.

“Thanks, love,” he murmured against your hair. “I needed this.”

You snuggled closer into his warmth, letting him tighten his arms around you. “You’re welcome. You’ve been working nonstop since last week. I figured you should take a break.”

“Seungkwan’s gonna kill me for slacking off.”

You chuckled, tilting your head upwards so you could meet his gaze. “I don’t think he will. He was so happy when I told him I’d take you away for the weekend.”

“He was?”

“Yeah. He was so grateful,” you replied, reverting your gaze back to the starry night sky. “I thought he’d kiss my feet.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Have I been working too much? Didn’t feel like it.”

“People saw it. I saw it,” you said. “I know how important this is for you but you don’t have to push yourself too hard, Vernon. What’s the point of all this if your body gives out?”

“I didn’t realize I was that bad,” Vernon admitted, breaking the silence. “I mean, I knew I was working hard, but I didn’t think it was too much. Truth is, I feel like I should be doing more.”

“You do plenty, Vernon,” you replied softly. “You’re passionate. That’s one of the many things I love about you. But, you know, even superheroes need a break sometimes.”

He smiled, his hand gently tracing patterns on your arm. “You think I’m a superhero, huh?”

“Well, you’re definitely my hero,” you teased, nudging him playfully. 

He chuckled, his chest vibrating under your cheek. “Thank you. I needed this. I needed you. It’s nice to have someone who reminds me to slow down.” His gaze turned serious for a moment. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

His honesty touched you, and you found yourself smiling up at him. “Well, it’s part of the girlfriend duties, I guess.”

Vernon leaned in closer, his forehead gently resting against yours. “You’re doing a really good job.”

You giggled. “I also have to pull you out sometimes because what about me? I need your attention too!” you whined playfully, pouting. “Lots of it.”

“Right now, I’m all yours,” he chimed, nuzzling his nose on your cheek.

The air between you shifted, softening with the closeness. His eyes, normally so full of focus and energy, now held something softer, something deeper. Your breaths mingled, and the world around you seemed to fade into the background.

Your eyes landed on his lips—plump, pink, inviting, upturned in a lazy smile. Your heart fluttered with the thoughts of kissing him swimming in your mind. “You know,” you whispered, “you could thank me properly.”

His lips twitched into a playful smile. “Oh? And how should I do that?”

You bit your lip, the corners of your mouth curving up as you glanced at his lips, then back to his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Vernon’s smile widened, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he leaned to kiss you again—slowly, deliberately, deliciously. His hand slid down from your cheek to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His touch was tender, yet there was some strength in the way his fingers pressed into you—a subtle intensity that matched the growing heat between you both.

The world around you seemed to blur, the crackling fire and the cool night air fading away as you focused entirely on him—his lips, his warmth, his steady breathing. Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. You could feel the shift in him too—his breaths becoming deeper, his body relaxing into yours while his lips moved with more intent.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, your faces still so close that you could feel his breath fanning your face. His eyes searched yours, asking a question that he didn’t need to say out loud. There was no need for words—everything you both felt was there in the way you kissed and held each other.

Without breaking the gaze, Vernon leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on your neck, then another, his lips grazing your skin with such care that it sent a shiver down your spine. The tension was spurred not just physically but emotionally—a culmination of the trust, the affection, and the love that had been building between you.

“Vernon…” you whispered, moaning as he sucked a bruise on your collarbone. “Vernon, let’s… let’s go back inside.”

Without a word, he rose to his feet, lifting you with ease. You locked eyes only for a second before he leaned in for another kiss that he didn’t break until you were back inside the cabin. It wasn’t long before the two of you were lost in each other’s touch, filling the quiet night with labored breath and whispers of sweet nothings in each other’s ears.

Making love with Vernon for the first time was magical—so much more than you’d imagined. It was beautiful and satisfying. He was attentive to your needs and made sure you were comfortable all throughout. What you weren’t expecting though, was the aftermath. Ever since that night, there had been a small but unmistakable shift in Vernon—he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself anymore.

He’d sneak up behind you when you were cooking, wrapping his arms around your waist, trailing warm kisses along the curve of your neck, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Sometimes he’d press his crotch on your ass, making himself known. If you were sitting on the couch, reading, or just relaxing, he’d find a way to pull you onto his lap, his hands gently resting on your waist or your thighs. Sometimes, you’d catch him staring at you with that look, like he was waiting for a chance to pounce and devour.

“Vernon,” you’d tease, laughing as you tried to push him away half-heartedly, but his arms would only tighten around you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“What? I can’t help it,” he’d say, his voice low and playful. “You’re too irresistible.”

You couldn’t deny it—you loved how close you’d become, how his affection seemed to overflow in the quiet moments you shared together. And yet, there were times you had to remind him that the world existed beyond the two of you.

Like that one time at the grocery store, when he reached for your hand and tugged you into the nearest aisle, pressing you up against the shelves with a grin.

“Vernon, we’re in public,” you whispered, cheeks flushing as you glanced around to make sure no one was watching.

He just shrugged, his lips brushing against your ear. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you right now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you let him steal a quick kiss anyway, unable to resist the giddiness that bubbled up inside you every time he acted like this—like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“What happened to you? Since when did you get so….” you’d asked him one time when you had just arrived from work and he was already up on you.

“I got a taste of you. That’s when,” he replied, grinning before he pinned you down the bed.

It was both endearing and exhilarating, this new phase of your relationship, where everything felt so easy, so light. You were falling even deeper for him, caught up in the joy of just being together, in love, and in sync. It felt like you were living in a dream, where Vernon was both your best friend and your lover, and you couldn’t wait to see where this adventure would take you next.

Just like that, a year passed like a beautiful, fast-paced blur—a time spent in moments of laughter, late nights, and whispered intimacies.

Winter came first. You spent cozy evenings at your place, wrapped up in blankets, sipping hot cocoa, and watching snowflakes fall from the sky. One particular night, after a snowball fight outside, you’d collapsed on the couch, laughing and drenched from the snow. Vernon pulled you into his arms, warming you with his body and peppering your face with soft kisses, each one melting away the cold. 

You spent that Christmas with his family, who welcomed you like you were one of their own. The fireplace crackled warmly, the glow of the Christmas tree lights twinkled like stars, and the scent of pine filled the air, wrapping you in a nostalgic embrace. You felt at home in their care, much like how Vernon made you feel safe and cherished every day.

Spring arrived, and with it, new adventures. You both took long walks through blooming gardens and parks, hand-in-hand, admiring the colors and the new life that seemed to pop up everywhere. 

It was also the time when Vernon’s startup had taken off in ways neither of you had anticipated. After months of hard work and sleepless nights, the official launch of their software was met with enthusiastic support from consumers and investors alike. This new milestone in his career meant more late nights at the office, and while you missed him, you celebrated his success as your own, often texting him little reminders of your love during his busy days.

You often attended work galas together where you couldn’t be any prouder seeing him in his element, confidently navigating conversations with clients and investors. Vernon always had a way of making things look effortless. He’d occasionally glance your way, flashing you a soft, knowing smile whenever your eyes met from across the room, making you feel like the most important person there, even among the fancy suits and champagne flutes.

By the time summer rolled around, the two of you were already inseparable. He had earned enough to get himself a bigger apartment, and he’d invited you to live with him. Without a second thought, you accepted, giddy at the prospect of sharing every waking moment together.

On weekends, despite his hectic schedule, Vernon always made time for you. No matter how tired he was, he’d insist on going out for brunch or planning a mini-adventure to clear his head from the work week. It was one of the things you admired about him—his ability to balance ambition and affection, making sure you knew you were never second to his career, even when he was juggling so much.

You went on beach trips a handful of times—your way of making sure he gets his rest. You’d run down the shoreline, laughter echoing as he pretended to chase you, only to sweep you into the waves for a splash-filled embrace. The salty breeze tangled in your hair, the sun warmed your skin, and the sound of his laughter filled the air—it was a slice of pure freedom. You’d spend hours lying on a beach towel together, your head resting on his chest as he traced lazy patterns on your back, feeling completely at peace.

There were times when work stress started to get the better of him, though. He would come home exhausted, bags under his eyes, and you’d find him sitting on the couch, staring into space. During those moments, you’d sit beside him, take his hand, and just let him breathe. He’d always pull you into a hug, sighing in relief, as if just being near you helped ease his mind. 

Autumn came swiftly, marking a year since you’d become official. Your jobs still took up most of your time, but you’d always come home to each other’s embrace. Almost a year to the day since he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, you both went hiking up a nearby mountain, relishing the crisp autumn air and breathtaking view. When you reached the top, Vernon pulled you close, his breath visible in the chilly air. “This past year with you has been the best year of my life.”

He wasn’t usually the sentimental type, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. You kissed him, long and deep, filled with all the love that had grown between you.

Yet, your relationship wasn’t without its trials. You had fights too, arguments that were either petty or intense as you navigated the complexities of a steady relationship. Vernon’s calm and understanding demeanor guided you through the turbulent waters. Each time you emerged stronger, growing as a couple and as individuals.

“I know you’re a grown woman, and I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but—” Vernon paused, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “You still have to let me know when you’re coming home late and where you’re going so I’d know where to find you if anything bad were to happen.”

You pouted, arms crossed over your chest as you stared at the wall, unable to meet his gaze. He sighed, reaching for your elbow, gently tugging you face-to-face. “I hope you understand what I’m getting at,” he said softly.

“You still love me, right?” you asked, still scowling and still avoiding his gaze.

“Look at me,” he insisted, but you turned your head away. “Love, look at me when you ask me that.”

You finally glanced at him, biting your lower lip as you fidgeted with the sleeves of your T-shirt. Vernon pushed the hair out of your eyes and lifted your chin, his gaze steady. “I love you so much. Nothing’s changed.”

As the year drew to a close, you reflected on how much had changed since that first movie night. You had built a life together, rich with love, laughter, and countless small moments that brought you closer..

As snow began to fall once again, marking the beginning of another winter, you found yourself daydreaming about what the next year would hold for the two of you. Whatever came next, you knew one thing for sure—you were in this together, and that was all that mattered.

You stepped out of the closet, dressed neatly in your work uniform—a beige top with a matching beige pencil skirt. Vernon was sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in his ear as he talked to who you assumed was Seungkwan.

“Okay, got it,” he said, smiling upon seeing you. “Yeah, I’ll be there before 10. See you.”

“Is that your work wife?” you asked after he hung up, tying your scarf around your neck as you walked toward your boyfriend.

“Stop calling him that,” Vernon chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting as he welcomed you into his arms when you moved to sit on his lap. “He hates it.”

You grinned, tilting your head to the side as he pressed a soft kiss on your cheek. “Well, he is your work wife. Wait—no. I think ‘Work Mom’ would be better. He’s like a mom, very strict and always nagging.”

“Why don’t you two like each other?” he asked, fiddling with the scarf around your neck, tugging at it playfully until it came undone.

“Ex-wives and new wives don’t always get along, love. Everyone knows that,” you quipped, leaning back to meet his gaze.

Vernon hummed thoughtfully, his eyes glimmering with fondness as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “We gotta fix that. Can’t have my wives fighting all the time or else I’d crumble to the ground. You guys are the reason I’m still standing, did you forget?” His kisses trailed up your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You giggled as his nose tickled your ear. “Yeah, no. Seungkwan and I are close. We just fight for fun. I thought you knew that?”

He took a long sniff of your skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he moaned quietly, clearly enjoying your scent. His hand began to unbutton your blouse, but you playfully pushed him back. “What?” he asked, his gaze dreamy and half-lidded.

You huffed. “You’re insatiable,” you grumbled, shifting your positions and pinning him down on the bed.

Vernon was caught off-guard but only for a second. He relaxed on the bed, placing his hands under his head as he watched you straddle him with amusement in his eyes. “You look amazing up there.”

“Really? Well, you look like you’re running late. Get up,” you demanded, standing up abruptly and striding over to the full-length mirror to fix your scarf, a playful smile lingering on your lips as you caught your reflection.

Vernon followed you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting. “Ten minutes?”

“No,” you replied without missing a beat, your smile widening at his hopeful tone.

“Seven?” he pressed on, his voice teasing. “Okay. Five. How about five?”

“No. You’re supposed to be at work by 10 am,” you chided, packing your stuff into your bag. “And I’m supposed to be in mine in thirty minutes.”

“Alright, fine,” he conceded, pouting playfully, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his exaggerated disappointment. You helped him put on his coat, patting it down and taking a moment to marvel at his sharp appearance. The way he looked in that coat made your heart flutter. “Do I look handsome?”

You giggled, tiptoeing to plant a quick kiss on his lips, savoring the warmth of his smile. “Very. Come on, let’s go.”

At work, the familiar hum of chatter and the soothing ambiance of the hotel welcomed you. Today was the day of the promotion announcements, and despite the anxious knots in your stomach, there was a flicker of hope within you. As you settled into your cubicle, you exchanged a smile with Sally, both of you sharing that unspoken excitement. You spent a few minutes organizing your workspace, distracting yourself from the jitters.

Finally, the manager gathered everyone in the conference room. Your heart raced, your mind wandering to what it would feel like to hear your name called. A promotion would mean more than just a new title; it would feel like a validation of your hard work, a step forward toward something more fulfilling.

“And finally,” the manager said, his voice pulling you back to the moment, “Sally, our newest concierge who will be gracing the front desk from now on.”

A round of applause erupted, but the sound felt muted, and distant. You clapped along, though your hands felt heavier with each passing second. Sally beamed, and while you were happy for her, a weight settled in your chest. You had worked just as hard and poured just as much energy into the job. Yet here you were, still in the same place, while Sally was moving forward.

As the applause died down and the meeting wrapped up, you returned to your desk, your steps slower than before. You felt pride for Sally but you were also frustrated about the recognition you thought you’d receive. You reminded yourself that promotions sometimes came down to factors beyond performance, like qualifications—Sally had a degree in Hospitality, while you didn’t. Undeniably, you were good at your job, but you didn’t have the same training as Sally and the others.

You sat down, staring blankly at your computer screen. You didn’t dream of managing reservations every day. Back in college, you’d chosen Communications because you had dreams of becoming a journalist, of writing stories that mattered. The hotel reservation desk wasn’t where you thought you’d be.

The phone on your desk rang, jarring you from your thoughts. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as you picked up. “Diamond Hotel! How may I assist you today?”

You couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the stability of your day-to-day life—especially with Vernon by your side. The two of you were happy, navigating life together, cheering each other on in your respective paths. Vernon, with his drive and passion for his startup, was thriving. And you, well… you liked being part of his success story, the one who was there to help him unwind, to be the arm candy beside him at work events.

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized—his success wasn’t enough to fill the gaps in your own. Vernon was doing what he loved, chasing his dreams, and growing in ways that inspired you. Meanwhile, you were stuck in a job that felt safe but unfulfilling, and every day, it became harder to ignore that nagging feeling in your chest—the one whispering that you were meant for more.

You glanced over at Sally, who was now chatting excitedly with your manager. Her promotion felt like a reminder of what you were missing. And while you weren’t resentful, the ache of unmet potential gnawed at you. It wasn’t jealousy—it was the realization that somewhere along the line, you’d stopped pursuing what truly mattered to you.

“Are you ready?” Vernon asked, walking into the bedroom to find you putting on a thick jacket over your dress.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you smiled, accepting his hand and letting him guide you out of the apartment.

It was the weekend and you were set to meet your family for dinner. The evening air outside was cold, with a chill creeping in as winter began to settle into the city. You walked hand-in-hand with Vernon, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the two of you as you headed toward his car. His thumb gently brushed over your knuckles, and you couldn’t help but smile at the small, affectionate gesture.

The drive to your parent’s place was quiet, filled with the comfortable silence that came after years of being together. This was Vernon’s first time meeting your parents in person, and although you knew they’d love him, you were still nervous thinking about how the night would unfold. Vernon must’ve sensed your unease because he reached for your hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“You okay?” he asked, eyes searching yours with gentle concern.

“Yeah,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. Only then did you notice the slight but unmistakable furrow in his brows. Paired with his clenched jaw, you could tell he was nervous. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little nervous.”

“Aw. Don’t worry. They’re gonna love you,” you chimed, kissing his knuckles. “Just like I do.”

He laughed softly, your confidence easing some of his tension. “That’s the plan,” he replied, eyes still fixed on the road ahead.

You had told your parents all about Vernon—how caring he was, how ambitious yet down-to-earth, and how he always knew how to make you feel at home. But seeing him interact with them, watching their first impressions form, felt like a major milestone in your relationship.

When you arrived, the familiar sight of your childhood home came into view, the porch light already on and your family’s laughter spilling out from the windows. Vernon parked the car and turned to you with a grin. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you smiled, letting him intertwine your fingers.

As soon as you rang the doorbell, the door flew open and your mother welcomed you with a warm embrace. “There’s my beautiful girl!”

“Hi, mom!” you greeted, hugging her back. Behind her, your father was standing with a smile. “Dad!” you exclaimed, moving to hug him next while your mom greeted Vernon.

“You must be Vernon,” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you,” he replied rubbing your mother’s back when she pulled him into a hug.

Your father regarded Vernon, greeting him with a manly pat on the back and a handshake. Letting them get to know each other, your mother guided you into the house, whispering in your ear, “He looks so much better in person.”

“Right? I told you he does,” you replied and you both giggled all the way to the dining hall.

Dinner was a lively affair, filled with stories, laughter, and, as expected, the occasional nudge about your future plans with Vernon. But you took it all in stride, enjoying the simple pleasure of being surrounded by family. Vernon, as promised, managed to deflect most of the pointed questions with his charm, turning the conversation back to lighter topics whenever things got too personal.

“How come you waited this long to bring him home?” your mom questioned, and you could only smile sheepishly.

“Oh, I know,” your father joined in, sniggering. “She wasn’t expecting him to last this long.”

“Dad,” you chided softly, shaking your head. “That’s not true.”

He turned to Vernon. “It is. She was trying to see if you can handle her and won’t run away at the first chance.”

“Well, sir, your daughter’s not going anywhere because I’m not letting her go,” Vernon boasted.

Vernon’s confident remark earned a few chuckles around the table, and even your dad smiled, seemingly impressed by his boldness. But soon, the conversation drifted toward Vernon’s work, a natural topic considering your parents’ curiosity about the man you’d brought home.

“So, Vernon,” your dad began, taking a sip of his drink. “I heard you’re running your own company. How’s that going?”

“It’s been great so far, sir. A lot of hard work, but we’re starting to see some real growth. I’ve got a solid team behind me, and we’ve been lucky to land a few big clients this year,” Vernon explained humbly, though you could hear the pride in his voice. It made you smile, knowing how hard he’d worked to get to this point.

“That’s fantastic,” your mom chimed in, her eyes gleaming with admiration. “Running your own business at such a young age—that’s no small feat.”

“Yeah, he’s been doing great,” you added, glancing at Vernon with pride. “He’s always working late nights, but I keep trying to remind him to take breaks.”

Your dad grunted in approval, nodding as he cut into his steak. “That’s the kind of dedication that pays off. Not a lot of young people can say they’re doing something they’re truly passionate about.”

And then, without missing a beat, he continued, “At least one of you is doing something they actually like.”

You froze, your smile faltering slightly as the comment landed a little too close to home. Your mother shot your dad a sharp look, her eyebrows raised in disapproval.

“Honey,” she scolded, her voice tinged with warning. “That was a bit uncalled for.”

Your dad blinked, genuinely clueless, his expression one of mild confusion. “What? I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said then a glint of recognition flashed in his eyes when he saw your face. “I just meant... you know... Vernon’s following his passion, that’s all.”

You forced a laugh, though it came out more strained than you intended. “It’s fine, Mom,” you said quickly, hoping to brush past the comment. But deep down, his words had struck a chord. You kept your emotions at bay, not wanting to spoil the night. 

Vernon must’ve sensed something because his hand slipped under the table to give yours a comforting squeeze. You squeezed back, grateful for his silent support, even though you didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want him to see the flicker of doubt creeping in.

The conversation shifted again, your mom steering it back to safer topics—family trips, funny memories, anything that didn’t revolve around work. But even as laughter filled the room once more, the words lingered in your mind like a quiet echo, reminding you of the dreams you’d put on hold.

Another year passed, filled with love, laughter, and the small routines that had become the foundation of your relationship with Vernon. You marveled at how easy it was to slip into life with him—lazy Sunday mornings spent in bed, quiet dinners after long workdays, and spontaneous weekend getaways that kept the spark alive. He was always there, steady and present, his love for you unwavering.

But as Vernon’s star continued to rise, something inside you began to shift. You watched him become more confident, more assured in his path, while you remained exactly where you had started: sitting in your cubicle, answering phone calls, and managing hotel reservations.

You were proud of him, of course. His dedication and hard work were paying off, and you loved seeing him thrive in an industry he was passionate about. But every time you heard about his achievements, a small part of you felt left behind. While he soared, you stayed grounded, rooted in a job that had long since lost its appeal.

You told yourself that it didn’t matter, that you were happy supporting Vernon and building a life together. But as the months went by, the excitement you once felt about your own future dimmed. Conversations at dinner turned into Vernon sharing news of his latest deals or the new office space his company had acquired, while you had little to contribute beyond the mundane details of your day. He never made you feel small—quite the opposite, actually. He always asked how your day went, listened intently, and reassured you that your time would come. But his words didn’t reach the parts of you that had begun to wonder if it ever would.

You started to notice things about yourself that you hadn’t before. The way your excitement for work had faded, the way your once confident posture slumped slightly as you sat at your desk. You’d catch glimpses of yourself in the mirror at the end of the day, your work uniform feeling more like a costume than a true reflection of who you were or who you wanted to be. It wasn’t jealousy—Vernon’s success was well-deserved. It was more a growing uncertainty about your own place in the world, a feeling that maybe you weren’t doing enough, weren’t being enough.

The nights when Vernon stayed late at the office became more frequent, and while you told yourself you understood, it left more time for your thoughts to spiral. You’d curl up on the couch, watching TV alone, wondering when you had started feeling so distant from the person you used to be. The person who had dreams of her own, who had once imagined writing stories that people would read, maybe even resonate with.

And though Vernon never missed an opportunity to remind you how much he loved you, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of inadequacy. Like somehow, you were falling short of the life you were supposed to be living—that somehow, you weren’t good enough for Vernon anymore.

But you pushed those thoughts away, burying them under your love for Vernon and the belief that as long as you had each other, it would all work out. Still, the doubt lingered as the year came and went.

“Good morning, love,” Vernon whispered in your ear, the soft press of his lips against your temple stirring you from sleep. You blinked your eyes open, greeted by the sight of his tender gaze and his charming smile. “Happy anniversary.”

You smiled back, leaning into his embrace, soaking in the warmth he effortlessly offered. Vernon wrapped his arms around you tighter, placing a kiss on your forehead. You looked up at him, noticing how at ease he seemed, his head propped on one hand while his fingers lazily played with the ends of your hair.

“Happy anniversary,” you murmured softly as you cupped his cheek. He leaned down to kiss you, his lips lingering on yours.

It didn’t take long for the soft kiss to deepen, sending a surge of warmth through your body and a wave of emotions in your heart. Vernon’s hand moved from hair to you arms, featherlight as he traced the path slowly, deliberately, like he was memorizing the feeling of you.

Your hand slipped into his hair, tugging softly, pulling him closer as if you weren’t already skin to skin. When his hand reached your ass, he gave a good squeeze that set off goosebumps all over your body. He then pulled away for a second, eyes searching yours as if asking a silent question, one that you’d already answered the moment you returned his kiss.

Your kisses grew deeper, breaths becoming shorter, bodies pressing closer. You could feel the heat of his skin beneath your palms and the steady beating of his heart. There was no rush, you both took your sweet time, agreeing on an unspoken understanding that you had all the time in the world.

He kissed your neck when you threw your head back, and you let him trail his lips down to your collarbone while his hand tugged the straps of your nightgown down. Soon, you were naked under him and you watched his eyes widen slightly at the sight of your breasts, smiling as you reached for his neck and pulled him down. Vernon let you guide his mouth to one of your nipples, and the moan that escaped your lips was ecstatic once his teeth grazed the sensitive bud.

He worked his way around your body, squeezing, pinching, sucking—all that while you held on to him, bucking your hips forward to feel any friction in your aching sex. Vernon slotted his knee between your legs and you humped on it desperately.

Your patience was running thin while Vernon was hyper-fixating on your supple skin, kissing and nipping and leaving bruises at his wake. You reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing your hand inside and grabbing his manhood. Vernon jerked back slightly, but you didn’t let go. You thumbed the head of his dick, spreading the precum in a circling motion.

“Nonie, I want this,” you whispered, deliberately using the nickname that never failed to get you anything you wanted from him.

He pulled back for a moment, eyes dark with desire but softened by his affection for you. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, a playful smirk playing on his lips. “Are you sure?” His voice was low, the question barely a whisper.

“Are you kidding me right now?” you retorted, rolling your eyes but you were grinning from ear to ear.

“Just say it,” he sang, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Yes. I’m very sure,” you replied, voice laced with mock-sarcasm, but that was enough for Vernon.

He kept his eyes on yours, not breaking eye contact as he cupped your pussy and pressed on it. Your breath hitched, making him smile before slipping his hand into your underwear. For a moment, he played with the slick that had gathered there, spreading it and using it to lubricate his fingers as he rubbed your clit.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, a desperate attempt to hold onto something solid as your body began to sink into his touch. The delight was short-lived because Vernon’s hand suddenly left your pussy. In swift motions, Vernon sat up and stripped himself out of his clothes before positioning himself between your legs.

The next few minutes was a blur of lewd moans blending with the sounds of sucking and licking as Vernon ravaged your sex with his mouth.  He went on and on, relentless even as your voice became hoarse and small tears trickled on the side of your face. And then with a strong grip at his hair, you focused on the pleasurable motions of his tongue and fingers, letting it drive you to the edge before a wave of orgasm crashed through you.

Your grip at his hair loosened, and your legs fell limp as you stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the high that took over you just now. Vernon appeared, hovering over you with an air of pride about him. You smiled a grateful smile, showing him how satisfied you were.

But then the sudden feeling of your cunt being filled to the bottom made you gasp, mouth gaping open as your back arched in response. Vernon lowered himself to kiss your cheek, cupping your face gently as he shushed you.

“You asked for it, remember?” he said softly, but the mischief in his voice was unmistakable.

In your titillating daze, Vernon moved and found his pace with practiced ease. Every nerve in your body seemed to come alive, making you lose your mind as every thrust gave you a taste of heaven on Earth. 

The room was filled the sounds of your whimpers, his guttural groans, and flesh slamming against flesh. The world outside the bed blurred into irrelevance. Every touch felt amplified—each caress, each whispered breath pulled you deeper into one another. Your fingers tightened around his shoulders, your body responding instinctively to the rising intensity.

“Nonie,” you called in a hushed, breathless gasp as his touch sent waves of sensation rippling through you. Your mind was a haze, lost somewhere between desire and release.

The pressure was building inside you, slow at first, then surging all at once. The world seemed to still for a second—then everything came crashing down as another orgasm came washing over you in waves, leaving you breathless and spent.

He followed you soon after, your bodies perfectly in sync, his soft groan was the only sound between you as he rammed into you relentlessly. One final thrust had him stuttering curses, then he stilled for a good minute before falling in your chest, face buried in your neck.

For a long while, neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, the aftershocks of your release pulsing through you. Slowly, your breathing returned to normal, the frantic energy replaced by an overwhelming sense of warmth and closeness

Vernon lifted his head to look at you. “I love you,” he uttered before kissing your lips.

The kiss was sweet, comforting even, but as he pulled away, a thought flickered through your mind—how perfect everything must look on the outside. Here you were, in the arms of a man who adored you, who made you feel cherished. And yet, beneath that perfect image, your heart was aching with uncertainty and self-doubt.

For a moment, you wondered if Vernon could see it—the quiet battle you fought within yourself, the creeping fear that you weren’t enough. But his eyes remained soft, full of love, oblivious to the storm forming under your calm exterior.

You gave him a small smile, pushing those thoughts aside again, and whispered, “I love you.” As long as you could hold onto that love, maybe everything else would eventually fall into place.

“I think self-doubt is the worst but most effective way to self-destruct,” you said, staring at the contents of your glass. The bottle next to it was half-empty, a quiet testament to how long you’d been sitting there.

“You know, when your own insecurities start eating away at you, and you just… let them? It gnaws at you until there’s nothing left. And when that happens, you don’t even realize—you become the monster, and you start eating away at everyone around you,” you continued, the words settling heavily in your chest.

You glanced at Seungcheol, and though he stared off into space, you could tell he was listening intently.

“People might say I should’ve communicated with Vernon—told him what was bothering me, how I was feeling, but…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Pride is a god-awful thing too. It wouldn’t let me show my perfect boyfriend that I was flawed.”

Seungcheol took a sip from his glass, his silence offering a kind of understanding that didn’t need words. You sighed, running your fingers through your hair, feeling lighter but also somehow more burdened by the memories you had unearthed.

“Funny thing is, on the surface, everything seemed perfect,” you said, half-laughing. “We went to galas, work events, dinners. From the outside, we were that couple—successful, in love.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his expression inviting you to continue.

You exhaled slowly, the memory of one particular evening surfacing. “There was this gala we attended. I wore this gorgeous maroon dress, and Vernon… well, he looked like he belonged there—he was in his element. The room practically revolved around him.”

Your mind drifted back to that night. The flash of lights, the clink of champagne glasses, and the elegant murmur of conversation all seemed so distant now.

You were standing by the champagne table, watching Vernon talk to a couple of people animatedly. You quietly sipped your drink, letting your thoughts spiral into another wave of self-doubt and feeling of inadequacy.

“It pains me to admit this, but you look ravishing tonight,” Seungkwan prompted, appearing beside you with a deadpan expression.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Is that Prada?” You fake exclaimed, eyeing his suit.

Seungkwan smirked, looking away and brushing his nose smugly as he puffed his chest. “This old thing? Stop. It’s nothing.”

You chuckled and let Seungkwan ruffle his feathers for a bit. Then he looked at you, really look at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Why’d you ask?” you questioned and it came out a little defensive.

“Maybe it’s just me, but your energy seemed off lately.”

Nervousness crept to your chest. “Off how? What do you mean?”

“I have no idea, but I can feel it. I have a good sense when it comes to these things.”

You couldn’t help feeling warm. Despite your cat and dog dynamics, you always knew Seungkwan cared about you. “I’m fine, Boo. It’s probably just the evening. I’m kinda tired.”

“If you’re tired, you should stop drinking,” Seungkwan said, taking the glass from your hand and setting it down. “Should I tell Vernon you’re ready to leave?”

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’m not in a rush. Go have fun.”

“Okay,” he nodded as he started walking away. “No more champagne for you, alright?”

You sighed and waved your hand at him dismissively. At that moment, you spotted Vernon approaching you with a lady.

“Love, come meet Ms. Jean. She’s an editor for S Magazine,” Vernon introduced with a warm smile, gently placing his hand on your back. You turned to meet the woman standing beside him—a poised figure in a sleek black dress, her short bob neatly framing her face. She extended her hand toward you with a professional smile.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, her voice smooth but authoritative.

You shook her hand, trying to steady your nerves. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Vernon’s been telling me a lot about you,” Ms. Jean continued, her eyes sharp but not unkind. “He mentioned you studied Communications. Have you always worked in hospitality?”

There it was. The subtle jab you always dreaded, though you knew she hadn’t meant it that way. You smiled, your response ready. “Yes, I work in hospitality right now, but I’m on the lookout for writing opportunities.”

Her eyebrows arched with mild interest. “Really? What kind of writing?”

You felt your heart race slightly, unsure if this was your moment to impress or if you were just another face in the crowd for her. “Mostly feature articles and creative pieces. I used to write short stories and some features for our school paper back in college.”

Ms. Jean nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip from her champagne flute. “Interesting. S Magazine has been expanding its lifestyle section recently. We’ve been looking for fresh voices, especially those with a knack for storytelling.”

Your breath hitched at the mention. The opportunity sounded almost surreal, but you tried not to get ahead of yourself. “That sounds incredible. I’d love to know more about what kind of pieces you’re looking for.”

She smiled, her expression professional yet a little distant, as though gauging your sincerity. “We’re always on the lookout for writers who can capture personal experiences in a way that resonates with a wide audience—something authentic yet relatable.”

Your mind buzzed with ideas, but doubt crept in alongside the excitement. Could you really fit the mold? Did you still have what it took?

“Tell you what,” Ms. Jean said, pulling out her card from a sleek case. “Send me a few samples of your writing. Let���s see where that takes us.”

Vernon looked at you proudly, beaming as if he could already see your success unfolding. You smiled back, though a small part of you wondered if you were ready for this—if you could really stand alongside people like Ms. Jean, in a career you once dreamed of but left behind.

“Thank you, Ms. Jean. I’ll definitely send some over,” you promised, carefully tucking the card into your purse.

The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but your mind was elsewhere. As Vernon continued to chat away, you found yourself thinking of the stories you’d abandoned, the dreams you’d once nurtured. Maybe this was the sign you had been waiting for?

But even as that hope flickered, so did the insecurity, whispering in your ear: What if you’re not good enough for it?

“Shall we?” Vernon prompted, making you glance at him. The people he was talking to had left and you didn’t even notice.

“What?”

“Shall we go now? It’s getting  a little boring in here.”

You smiled, tilting your head to the side at the familiar scene before you. “Are you using me as an excuse to escape again?”

“No, not this time,” he grinned, taking your hand and then kissing your knuckles. “There’s something I wanna show you.”

You laughed softly as Vernon led you out of the gala, his hand firmly gripping yours. The cool night air greeted you, and you welcomed the fresh breeze on your skin, letting it sweep away some of the tension that had settled inside you. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, curiosity rising as you walked down the quiet street.

He flashed you a mischievous smile, the kind that always made your heart flutter. “You’ll see.”

You two walked for a few blocks, hand in hand, until you reached a small, familiar place. Your steps faltered as the brightly lit sign of the small Mexican restaurant came into view—the same one from your very first Friday night date. A wave of nostalgia hit you.

“Vernon…” you started, your voice trailing off as you turned to him. He gave you a knowing look.

“I figured it’d be nice to take you back here,” he said, opening the door and gesturing for you to step inside.

The restaurant was cozy, just as it had been two years ago. The dim lighting, the quiet atmosphere, and the scent of fresh tortillas brought back memories of that night—the excitement of getting to know him, the lighthearted conversation, and the comfort you felt by his side. You smiled at the memory, but it was tinged with an unexpected heaviness now.

You were the only ones there and Vernon led you to a corner table, the same one you’d sat at on that date. It felt surreal, like you were being transported back in time. After placing your orders, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Remember that night? You canceled the hotel restaurant and brought me here,” Vernon said with a chuckle, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. “I was a little nervous back then. I wanted to impress you so bad.”

“You didn’t have to try too hard,” you smiled, your heart warming at the memory. “You already won me over the moment I first saw those eyes.”

He laughed, and for a moment, the tension in your chest eased. But as the conversation went on, you noticed that Vernon seemed different tonight—his eyes held a deeper intensity, like he had something more on his mind.

After finishing the meal, Vernon took a deep breath, his hand gently squeezing yours. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a while,” he began, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made your heart skip.

You blinked, your heart suddenly pounding, unsure of what was coming. Before you could fully grasp the moment, Vernon stood up and moved to your side, dropping down on one knee.

Your hand flew over your mouth, gasping softly as the world around you came to a halt.

“From the moment we met, I knew you were gonna be very special to me,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You’ve been my best friend, my biggest supporter, and the love of my life. I can’t imagine a future without you, and I don’t want to. So…”

With a swift motion, he pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate ring that shimmered in the warm light. “Will you marry me?”

The restaurant faded into the background. All you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Your mind raced as his words sank in. Marriage. The thought had crossed your mind before, but not like this—not now. Not when you were in the midst of so much uncertainty about your own life, your own future. You felt your chest tighten as doubt crept in, louder than ever.

Vernon was everything you could have ever wanted, but the timing felt wrong. Then again, he had never been good with timing.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him—you did, with every fiber of your being—but your heart was torn. Your career felt stagnant, your sense of self was wavering, and suddenly, the idea of committing to something as important as marriage felt overwhelming.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, seeing the love and hope in his gaze. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to speak past the lump in your throat. “Vernon…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I love you, but I… I can’t. Not right now.”

His face faltered, the flicker of hurt evident in his eyes. He quickly stood, pulling you into his arms as tears slipped down your cheeks. You buried your face in his chest, your sobs muffled against the fabric of his suit.

“I’m not ready,” you choked out, your voice barely audible between sobs. “I want to marry you, I do… but I’m not in a place where I can think about that yet. There’s so much going on in my head and I don’t want to bring that into our marriage.”

Vernon’s arms tightened around you, his hand softly stroking your back. His voice was gentle as he whispered, “It’s okay. It’s alright, love.” But the heavy sigh he let out betrayed his disappointment, a subtle reminder of how much he had hoped for a different answer.

You pulled away slightly, your tear-streaked face tilted up to him. “I love you. I swear, I love you so much. I just… I need more time,” you pleaded, your heart aching at the sight of his eyes dimming with understanding.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I understand. We’ll figure it out together.”

And yet, in the stillness that followed, your rejection lingered between you like a buzz in your ears—one that neither of you could fully shake.

You gulped down your drink, tilting your head back to finish every drop. As you reached for the bottle, Seungcheol pulled it away.

“We’re not even in the intense part yet, and you’re already cutting me off?” you teased.

Seungcheol sighed, unimpressed. “You’re about to finish the whole bottle.”

Giving up, you sighed, letting the tipsy haze settle. “You know what really happened to me at the time? I was in a phase where I had no idea what I was doing. I had a Communications degree with nothing to show for it in my resume.”

Shaking your head, you added. “How did I end up as a reservation agent in a fancy hotel anyway? I forgot, but I do remember working my ass off because the pay was good. And two years passed in a job I didn’t even like. Meanwhile, Vernon’s company was rapidly growing, his success was right around the corner, if not already achieved. He’d done so much in the same amount of time.”

“I was proud of him, but I was also jealous... and so insecure. I felt like I wasn’t enough for him, that he deserved someone on his level—and that wasn’t me.”

Seungcheol shifted in his seat. “Did you ever think that maybe what you did didn’t matter to him? That you were enough just as you were?”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “That’s funny, because that’s exactly what he said.”

Vernon said you’d figure it out together, but from that moment on, cracks started appearing in your seemingly perfect relationship. Vernon’s busy schedule, once something you admired, now felt like a gulf widening between you. Every time he stayed late at the office, every time he missed dinner plans, you couldn’t shake the gnawing thought that it wasn’t just work keeping him away. He would come home tired, still smiling, still full of affection—but you couldn’t feel it the same way anymore.

“You’re not even listening,” you snapped one evening after he zoned out during an argument about a towel he left in the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, rubbing his temples. “It’s been a long day. Can we talk about this later?”

But later never came. Each small incident piled on top of the last, and in your mind, it all added up to one conclusion: Vernon was pulling away because you’d rejected his proposal.

Then more cracks began to form, invisible at first but slowly spreading like cracks in a frozen lake. Everything he did seemed to tick you off and while you tried to keep your irritation at bay, sometimes you would just lash out without reaizing it.

One morning, as you both prepared for the day, you noticed Vernon had put your favorite mug in the dishwasher instead of the drying rack.

“Why did you put it in there? It was already clean,” you asked, unable to keep the annoyance from your voice.

Vernon turned, surprise flickering across his features. “I thought it was dirty. I didn’t want it to get mixed up with the clean dishes.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that hard to tell the difference. I can’t believe you would even think that.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to leave it out next time.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you muttered under your breath as you pulled the mug from the dishwasher. It was such a small thing, yet it felt like a big deal in the moment, like a representation of everything that was building inside you.

As the week progressed, the little annoyances multiplied. Vernon left his shoes by the door instead of putting them away, and you found yourself snapping at him, “How hard is it to just put them in the closet? It’s not like you don’t have a place for them.”

Vernon shrugged, his voice steady, “I’m sorry, I’ll get to it. I just forget sometimes.” He always took the blame, even when it felt disproportionate.

Then there was the time you both decided to make dinner together. The moment felt lighter at first, the two of you dancing around each other in the kitchen, laughter spilling out between you. But when Vernon tried to help chop the vegetables, you couldn’t help but comment, “Do you have to slice them that thick? They’re going to take forever to cook.”

His smile faltered for a brief second before he responded, “I thought thicker pieces would have more flavor. I’ll do it your way.”

“Just move. I’ll do it,” you said, frustration bubbling up again as you took the knife from his hands. “It’s just food. Why does it matter so much?” you muttered, more to yourself than to Vernon.

Vernon stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. “I just thought we were cooking together, but okay.”

You glanced at him, guilt creeping in, but instead of apologizing, you huffed and focused on chopping, feeling ridiculous for picking a fight over something so trivial.

As you settled into bed that night, Vernon’s hand slipped under your nightgown caressing your thigh firmly. You scooted away from him, but he reached for you again. Annoyed, you sat up and glared at him. “Can’t you take a hint?” 

His voice softened. “Right, sorry. Let’s just sleep.”

You lay back down, turning your back on him. He moved closer, hugging you from behind and kissing your cheek. You let him, sighing as you convinced yourself to calm down and just bask in the warmth you were familiar with.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked softly, concern evident in his voice.

“Nothing!” you snapped, then added, “Just go to sleep.”

You hated that you were pushing him away, but the insecurity inside you felt like it was consuming everything. With each argument, the little cracks widened, and you felt more lost than ever.

Days turned into a blur of tiny disputes that left you feeling drained, and yet Vernon remained unfazed, always returning to his gentle, loving demeanor. He brought you flowers one evening, a bouquet of sunflowers that lit up the room. 

“Just because,” he said, grinning. “I thought it’d make you smile.”

“Why? Do I look miserable?” you shot back, though your tone was sharper than you intended.

“Of course not,” he replied, taken aback. “I just wanted to brighten your day.”

You felt awful immediately, but instead of apologizing, you buried your guilt under a facade of anger.

“Do you want to talk about your day?” Vernon asked one evening as you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone while he pulled off his tie.

“Not really,” you replied curtly, your eyes glued to the screen.

His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing usually means something,” he pressed, sitting next to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You huffed, frustration bubbling over. “Yes. I know. I’m fine. Can we leave it at that?”

He blinked, taken aback. “Love, I’m here for you, alright? Can we talk about this? Don’t shut me out.”

“There is nothing to talk about, Vernon. Why are you making a big deal out of this?” you said, but the rise of your voice was contradicting your statement.

“What do you want me to do?” 

“I don’t know, maybe just actually listen when I say I’m fine?” you shot back, standing up and moving away from him. “Instead of thinking I need saving all the time.”

Vernon sighed, running a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation you recognized all too well. “I’m not trying to save you. I just want to understand you..”

You felt a rush of guilt but pushed it away. “Well, you’re not doing a great job of it.”

The evening passed in strained silence. You both tried to move on, but the weight of the argument lingered, coloring everything that followed.

Then came the email. You were sitting at your desk when the notification popped up on your phone. It was from S Magazine, inviting you for an interview based on your writing samples. At first, you stared in disbelief. You hadn’t sent them anything recently.

Later that evening, you confronted Vernon. “Did you submit my work to S Magazine?” you demanded, eyes narrowed as you watched his reaction.

He looked taken aback, his face contorting in confusion. “I did. I thought—”

“Why would you do that?” you cut him off, your voice rising before you even realized it. “You thought it was okay to make that decision for me? You had no right to do that without telling me!”

“I was just trying to help,” Vernon said, standing up from the couch, his brows furrowing in concern. “They told me you hadn’t reached out yet, and it’s such a great opportunity. I figured—”

“You figured what, Vernon?” you interjected again, frustration boiling over. “That I wasn’t good enough on my own? That I needed your help because I’m failing in my career while you’re off succeeding at everything?”

Vernon looked stunned, but his tone remained calm. “Whoa, hold on—” He walked over to you, gently placing his hands on your arms. “You’re upset, love. I can see that. Let’s calm down for a second, talk about this level-headedly.”

You swatted his hands away, your pulse racing. “Am I not good enough for you, Vernon? Is that what this is about?”

“What? No! Why would you even say that?” Vernon’s voice stayed steady, but the confusion was clear in his eyes. “I love you, just the way you are. I’m not trying to undermine you. I only wanted to support you.”

“Support me? Is that what this is? Why does it feel more like you’re trying to fix me?” you yelled, your heart racing. “What do you want from me, Vernon? To be some perfect version of myself so I can keep up with your success?”

He took a step back, his face contorting with hurt and disbelief. “I never said that. Love, where this is coming from?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “It’s coming from me, Vernon. It’s how I feel every time you do something like this. Like you’re trying to make me better because the version of me that exists right now isn’t enough for you.”

His expression softened, but instead of comfort, it only fueled your frustration. “That’s not true,” he said quietly. “I love you—exactly as you are. I just wanted to give you a push toward something you’re passionate about, something I know you care about.”

“I never asked for your help,” you spat, throwing your hands in the air.

Vernon’s patience finally wore thin. “Why are you looking at this so negatively? We’re in this together. I am not against you.”

“You don’t understand!” you yelled, your voice shaking as you finally voiced what had been festering inside you for months. “I feel inadequate, Vernon. I feel like I’m stuck in one place while everything around me is moving forward. Every time you step in like this, it just reinforces that feeling. I’m fucking sick of it!”

His eyes widened, and he took another step back, stunned by your outburst. “That’s not fair,” he said, voice quieter now, as though the weight of your words had finally hit him. “I am so sorry if I made you feel like that, but I would never do it on purpose. I love you. I’m just trying to help you.”

You turned away, wiping your eyes quickly. “That’s enough. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

There was a long silence before Vernon spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you,” he said, calling your name softly, as if it were a plea.

You heard him, clear as day, but his words felt distant—out of reach, like they didn’t belong to you anymore. Each fight, every misunderstanding, had been a drop in a bucket that now overflowed. The bitterness you felt was like a slow poison, creeping into every corner of your mind.

Vernon sighed heavily, and you heard him walking toward the bedroom, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts. The email notification from S Magazine was still open on your phone, but instead of excitement, all you felt was a hollow sense of dread. It should’ve been a dream come true, but now it only felt like a reminder of how lost you were, and how distant you were becoming from the person who loved you most.

A few weeks had passed since the S Magazine argument, but things between you and Vernon hadn’t improved. Every little thing seemed to set off another argument. Tonight, it started with something small—Vernon suggesting you take a break from work and relax. It was his way of showing care, but to you, it felt like a subtle dig at your career.

“I just think you deserve some time to recharge,” he said gently.

You crossed your arms, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “You mean because I’m not working as hard as you are?”

Vernon sighed. “Love, you know that’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you think, right? I can’t keep up with you.”

His face softened as he took a step closer. “I never said that. You’re amazing, and I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

“How am I supposed to see myself that way when I’m always falling short?”

A heavy silence filled the room before Vernon spoke again, quieter this time. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve given you space, I’ve tried to support your dreams, and I’ve never stopped loving you. But I can’t keep walking on eggshells, worrying that everything I say is gonna hurt you.”

“Oh? So you can’t do this anymore? Is that it? Do you want me gone, then?”

“No,” you groaned helplessly, rubbing his hands on his face out of frustration. He pulled you into a tight hug, one that made you want to just melt in his arms. “I love you so much. Please. I want to fix this.”

Your tears welled up, heart aching at how much love was in his voice. But that didn’t change the knot of doubt tangled inside you. “I don’t know what I need anymore,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But I think this isn’t it.”

Vernon froze for a second before pulling away from the hug and looking at you with widened eyes. “No... no, love, don’t say that.” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “Please, don’t do this. We can figure it out. We always do.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but the doubt that had consumed you wouldn’t let go. You took his hands off your shoulder. “I’m hurting, Vernon. And I’m hurting you. I don’t know how to stop it. I... I need to let you go.”

“No,” he whispered, cupping your cheeks and pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t mean that. You can’t. Please... don’t leave me.”

Your tears spilled over, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I can’t keep doing this. I am so lost and I can’t drag you down with me.”

“Love, please,” he begged, his voice cracking now as desperation took over. “We can work through this. I’ll do anything. Tell me what to do, just... don’t give up on us.”

You could feel the sincerity of his love but the storm inside you was too strong. You shook your head, your tears flowing freely now. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

Vernon’s face crumpled, and he dropped to his knees in front of you, holding your hands as if holding on would make you stay. “Please,” he choked out, his voice hoarse. “Please don’t leave me. I need you. I love you.”

His words broke you, shattered whatever strength you had left, but you knew it wasn’t enough. You gently pulled your hands away, your heart breaking as you did. “I love you too, Vernon. But I have to go.”

He stayed on the floor, his hands dropping to his sides, eyes red and pleading as he watched you walk away, unable to stop the finality in your stride.

“And then, we broke up,” you said to Seungcheol, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I moved out and just went on with my life. I cut off all forms of communication with him. It was like... I completely erased him.”

“Was it easy?”

“Fuck no. It was hard. So damn hard.” You took a deep breath before continuing. “After we broke up, I just threw myself into work. It didn’t matter how repetitive it was—I needed the distraction. I didn’t pursue S Magazine either. Just the thought of it reminded me of Vernon… of everything we fought about. So, out of sight, out of mind, right?”

Seungcheol watched you quietly, waiting for you to go on.

“Six months passed. I thought I was fine, you know? That I’d moved on.” You swallowed hard, the memory still fresh. “Then, one day, I heard that Vernon was seen on a date with someone. That’s when it hit me. He really was gone.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed. “How did that feel?”

You tried to smile, but it felt hollow. “Like everything came crashing down all over again.”

It was Mina who told you. She said Paul had mentioned seeing Vernon out on a date. It occurred to you that you didn’t tell anyone about the breakup—not your parents, not even Mina who had set you up.

For the last six months, you’d convinced yourself that you were fine—that the breakup didn’t devastate you. And you really believed it was the truth, but when someone finally asked about it, you realized just how painful it was. Mina was gentle, reassuring, and she comforted you. But she was also honest with you when she told you it wasn’t fair for Vernon.

“Your personal issues had nothing to do with him,” Mina said, sitting next to you on the edge of your bed. “Yes, it was awful, and I understand why you were so conflicted and stressed out, but none of it was Vernon’s fault.”

“I know, okay? But there was a lot of things I couldn’t say to him. We had a lot of stuff we couldn’t talk about. Now, there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s over. We’re done,” you had replied, frustration and defeat twisting inside you. 

Mina looked at you with sympathy, but there was also that firmness in her words. “Exactly. So, let it go. There’s no point dwelling on it now that he seemed to be moving on with his life.”

You had nodded then, but deep down, you weren’t ready to hear it. You weren’t ready to face the fact that Vernon wasn’t coming back, or that he was moving on with someone new.

You pretended to be fine. “He’s allowed to date whoever he likes,” you told yourself, repeating the words over and over like a mantra. But at night, when the world went quiet and your thoughts grew louder, your resolve crumbled. You’d find yourself reaching for your phone, fingers instinctively pulling up Vernon’s profile, then Lee Suji’s. It started innocently enough—a quick check just to see how they were doing—but it quickly turned into a habit. Every night, without fail, you’d scroll through their posts, their stories, their pictures.

It was like they were living the life you’d once imagined for yourself. While you were stuck in your repetitive days—getting up, going to work, coming home—it felt like they were living in a different world. They went to fancy dinners, took weekend trips, and posted photos that made their life look like something out of a dream. We used to do that, you thought bitterly, remembering how you would whisk Vernon away to spontaneous trips to give him a break.

Even the small, intimate details made you bitter—the way he looked at her in pictures, his arm casually draped over her shoulders. He used to do that with me, you thought, jealousy gnawing at you. You pictured them curled up on the couch watching movies, the same way you two had on lazy Sunday mornings. Even her captions reminded you of things he’d say to you, the inside jokes you thought were yours alone.

At first, it was just small pangs of longing—a memory of his laugh, the way he’d hold your hand, the sound of his voice calling your name. But those pangs grew sharper, and soon, they twisted into something more painful, more unbearable. They were happy. You could see it in the way they smiled in every picture, the way they stood so close together. Suji was everything you weren’t—successful, elegant, effortless. The kind of woman who could stand by Vernon’s side without feeling out of place.

And with every post, every photo, you sank deeper into the realization that Suji wasn’t just someone he was dating. She was someone he shared the life you used to live with the man you used to love—still love.

You descended further into sadness and regret, your mind constantly comparing yourself to the perfection that was Lee Suji. No matter how hard you tried to shake it off, the feeling lingered, sinking deeper into your chest. It was suffocating. Every night, as you lay down in bed, your thoughts would spiral, and all you could see was Suji’s perfect smile and the way Vernon looked at her—the way he used to look at you.

Some nights, when memories of how Vernon used to touch you started creeping in your mind, the jealousy surged so intensely it left a bitter taste in your mouth. You could practically feel the ghost of his fingertips brushing against your skin—the way he’d run his hand along your back, how his fingers worked you up expertly, or how his lips traced every curve of your body as if he’d memorized them all. Those moments were so intimate, so second-nature between the two of you, that you didn’t even think about them until now—now that they were gone.

You imagined him doing the same things with Suji. Did he hold her the way he used to hold you? Did he memorize her body, just like he did yours? Did he whisper the same sweet words in her ear, making her feel like she was the center of his world? The thought gnawed at you, eating away at the edges of your sanity. It wasn’t just that they were together—it was the idea that your place in his life had been filled, your role in his heart now occupied by someone else.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself it didn’t matter. He’s allowed to move on. You’re the one who left. But the logic didn’t lessen the sting. The jealousy would flare up, sharp and sudden, whenever you pictured him lying next to her, their legs tangled under the covers the way yours once were. You could almost see it—their lazy mornings, their heated nights, and the gestures of love and affection. You used to be the one he reached for in the middle of the night, pulling you close as if you were the most important thing in his world.

And now, all of that belonged to someone else.

One day, you bumped into Seungkwan at the supermarket—an unexpected encounter that caught you off guard. After exchanging pleasantries, for some reason, you both ended up sitting at a cafe down the street. The clatter of cups and faint hum of conversation around filled the awkward silence between you.

Seungkwan stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his eyes narrowing slightly before he finally spoke. “Her name is Suji, and she’s a friend of mine.”

You blinked at him, not quite sure where this is going. “Oh... I see.”

He took a sip, eyeing you with frustration in his eyes. “I should’ve introduced them sooner if I’d known you’d dump Vernon anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to shrug it off with a smirk. “Okay, Boo. I get it, you hate me. There’s no need to say it to my face.”

He set his cup down, the ceramic clinking against the saucer a little too sharply. His gaze didn’t waver, and there was no amusement in his eyes. “You see, that’s the problem with you. You jump to conclusions. You make these one-sided assumptions and cling to them like they’re fact. Right now, you’re assuming I hate you when I never did.”

The casual tone caught you off guard. You frowned. “But why—”

“You had your reasons,” Seungkwan cut you off, his voice firm but not unkind. “You had your own issues. I get that. What I hated wasn’t you. What I hated was what you did.”

You stared at him, the pit in your stomach growing heavier. “Boo...”

“I hated how you broke Vernon to pieces like it was the easiest thing in the world,” he said, his words blunt.

The sting of his words sliced deeper than you expected. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but your voice comes out small, trembling. “You don’t get to say that to me. It wasn’t easy, and you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re right. I don’t know everything. I don’t know what it was like for you after the breakup. Maybe you were a mess, too, I don’t know. But I do know what a wreck Vernon was when you left him. Did it ever cross your mind how difficult it would be for him to deal with that?”

You stared down at your coffee, the steam swirling like the thoughts that had been haunting you for months. The truth was, you had thought about it—how much it must’ve hurt Vernon, how hard he was taking it. But you buried it, pushed it away because it was easier than facing how deeply you’d broken him.

“He didn’t deserve it,” Seungkwan continued, his voice softer now, more resigned. “Not when all he ever did was love you, support you, and try to make things better for you. You let your bruised ego push him away—someone who would’ve given anything just to see you happy.”

The words landed heavily, and you felt a lump form in your throat. Deep down, you knew he was right. You’d convinced yourself that walking away was the only option, that you couldn’t keep up with Vernon’s success, that you were dragging him down. But Seungkwan’s words twisted the knife—Vernon didn’t deserve it.

“I thought...” You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice. “I thought I was doing the right thing. For both of us.”

Seungkwan scoffed, shaking his head. “Exactly. You alone made that choice for both of you, and then left him to pick up the pieces.”

The conversation with Seungkwan lingered in your mind the next day, following you like a shadow as you walked to work. Vernon had consumed your thoughts all night, leaving you tossing and turning, unable to sleep. By the time you reached the office building, you were moving on autopilot, too lost in your head to notice the man exiting through the doors.

You bumped into him, your balance faltering on your high heels as you toppled backward. But before you hit the marble floor, strong arms caught you, steadying you.

“Careful there,” the man said, his voice light.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. His easy smile widened into something more familiar as recognition flickered in his eyes.

“Well, look who it is.”

Your brows shot up. “Kim Mingyu?”

“Kim Mingyu?” Seungcheol questioned, his brow lifting in mild surprise.

You waved your hand dismissively. “I know. The plot thickens,” you huffed, reaching for the bottle that Seungcheol had tucked away from your reach.

“No,” he said sternly, swatting your hand away.

Running into Mingyu after all these years was unexpected, but surprisingly pleasant. He was as charming as ever, his smile lighting up when he saw you, and after a few minutes of small talk, he’d casually asked if he could take you out to dinner and catch up. You agreed—there was something comforting in reconnecting with an old friend, especially someone who’d been a significant part of your past.

Dinner with Mingyu turned out to be more nostalgic than you expected. Over shared plates of pasta and wine, you talked about your lives, reminiscing over the days when things were simpler but also more uncertain. Mingyu had changed since the last time you’d seen him. The sadness that used to cloud his eyes had lifted, and he seemed lighter—less burdened by the weight of the world.

“So, how are you?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, swirling the wine in your glass.

Mingyu grinned, almost sheepish. “I’m doing better now. So much better.” His voice softened as he continued, “I don’t… disappear randomly anymore. I guess I’m finally where I’m supposed to be. I’m happier. Took me a while, but here I am.”

“That’s great to hear,” you said, smiling. It was nice to see him thriving, a stark contrast to the depression he’d struggled with before.

He met your eyes, his expression was sincere.  “I’m gonna be honest, it was the bears.”

You were confused for a second, but then your remembered. “Oh, you mean— No way?”

“Way. Here look.” He pulled his phone out and showed you a picture of bear figurines on a desk with his nameplate on it.

“Are you serious? You still have them?” you asked, genuinely surprised. Mingyu nodded proudly. “Wow. That’s… amazing.”

“The bears were just an excuse,” he admitted, his tone softening. “Truth is, I have you to thank. You sent them back with a kind note. You encouraged me to figure it out, even when I was too wrapped up in my own head. It made a difference.”

You shook your head, feeling a bit bashful. “That note was cheesy.”

He chuckled, the sound full of nostalgia. “Actually, yes, it is kinda cheesy now. But, back then, I was desperate for a helping hand, so... yeah, it meant a lot.”

“Well, you’re welcome. Although, I think it was all you.”

Mingyu smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe. But sometimes, when you’re lost, you need someone to remind you that you’re capable of finding your own way. That’s what you did. But yeah, I guess you’re right. It was always up to me to make the changes.”

You smiled, pride and humility swelling in your chest. You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes softened, and just as you began to withdraw your hand, Mingyu caught it, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles. “It’s really good to see you after all these years,” he said quietly, his gaze lingering on yours.

The dinner continued at the bar, where you talked some more over wine. You had forgotten how funny Mingyu could be, and now that you were rediscovering it, you couldn’t stop grinning and giggling at his anecdotes. He seemed equally amused by your stories, laughing heartily in a way that made you feel like no time had passed at all.

Before you knew it, you were in the elevator, lips crashing into each other with a kind of desperation. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, while your fingers tangled in his hair, holding onto him for dear life. The soft ding of the elevator doors opening barely registered in your mind as Mingyu led you, still kissing, down the hallway to his suite.

Fumbling with the key card, Mingyu finally managed to open the door, and you stumbled inside together, your lips never parting. The room was dimly lit, and the city lights from outside twinkled beautifully. Mingyu guided you toward the bed, but you broke the kiss, breathless as you looked up at him, your heart racing.

“Is this what you came here for?” you teased, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

He smiled, a little out of breath himself. “I’m here for work, but, this is a welcome distraction.”

You giggled, leaning closer and biting his lower lip. Neither of you was gentle but you weren’t in a rush either. The way Mingyu touched you now was different from the rushed urgency in the elevator—this was tender, deliberate, and fervent all at the same time. Each kiss, each caress, felt like a reunion of sorts, as if you were both rediscovering each other after so much time apart.

You forgot how you managed to take your clothes off, but you knew you were already naked the second Mingyu’s lips found yours again—softer this time, and you melted into the sensation, the warmth of his body against yours was a welcome comfort. He paused, pulling back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with desire.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, trailing your fingertips from his nape to his chest that had grown more muscular over the years. “Yes, totally.”

And in the moment, you tossed away every weight pressing down on your chest, letting yourself get lost in the euphoria of Mingyu’s touch.

In the morning, you made your way out of Mingyu’s suite with a pit in your stomach. The walk of shame felt heavier than it should’ve. You scolded yourself for letting things go too far, for taking advantage of someone kind who was blissfully unaware of the mess inside your head. 

“I’ve missed you,” he’d mumbled sometime in the night, while you were wrapped around his warm embrace. “I missed you when I left. I missed you all these years. I tried to reach out several times but I knew it would be shameless of me to waltz back into your life without first fixing my own.”

And then, in your silence, he had added, “I’m all fixed now, baby,” just before he drifted off to sleep.

Mingyu probably thought last night meant something, that maybe you could rekindle what you once lost, and start fresh. But that wasn’t the case. You knew deep down you were just lonely, craving the warmth of someone else’s touch to fill the void Vernon had left behind.

When you reached the hotel lobby, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, hoping to slip by unnoticed. But as you neared the front desk, you froze. Vernon was standing there, talking to Sally.

Your breath hitched in your throat. For a split second, you considered turning around, making a quick escape, but then Vernon’s eyes caught yours. His face lit up with a polite smile, the kind that he often gave his friends. Your heart sank seeing that, knowing you’d never get to see him smile genuinely at you again.

And just like that, the weight in your chest doubled.

“Vernon,” you greeted as you approached him, forcing your voice to sound steady. “What brings you here?”

He took in your appearance, and you felt a rush of self-consciousness wash over you. You were aware that you didn’t look ready for work, the remnants of last night still clinging to you. “I, uh…” he hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about something, but I didn’t know how to contact you, so I thought I’d drop by instead.”

“What is it?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even as your heart raced.

Vernon glanced around for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Well, I need your new address so I can mail back your stuff that you left at our—well, my apartment.”

“Oh,” you blurted, not registering anything but the slip of his tongue that almost made him say ‘our apartment’. “Okay. Um…”

You stammered for a second, unsure how to proceed. “Actually, what if I just go pick them up myself? That way, I can make sure I don’t leave anything behind.”

Vernon hesitated for a second. “Sure. That would be more convenient.”

“Cool. When can I drop by?”

“When are you free?” he asked back. 

You searched his face for any hint of what he was feeling, but his expression remained carefully neutral. You cleared your throat. “How about Friday evening after work? I should be free then.”

“Friday works,” he replied, nodding slowly. 

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach at the thought of seeing the apartment again, the place where so many memories lingered like ghosts. “Okay, I will,” you said, trying to sound casual but failing to mask the underlying anxiety in your voice.

He glanced down, shuffling his feet slightly, and for a fleeting moment, you glimpsed the Vernon you once knew—the one who could fill a room with laughter, whose eyes sparkled with genuine warmth. “I hope it won’t be too weird,” he added quietly, breaking the silence again.

You wanted to reassure him, to say that it wouldn’t be weird at all, but the truth was that it would be strange, and painful too. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you replied instead, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He just nodded and you both fell quiet again. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, your mind filled with words you wanted to say but couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because there was no point saying them anymore. “I—uh, I should get going.” you prompted, not wanting to overstay your welcome but reluctant to leave him.

“Right,” he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was searching for something in your eyes. “See you Friday, then.”

“Yeah, see you Friday,” you echoed, walking away.

The prospect of seeing Vernon again was both exhilarating and terrifying. But as you walked away, you reminded yourself that you were both on different paths now, and you should be moving forward instead of dwelling on what could’ve been.

Halfway through your shift, you stepped outside for lunch with your coworkers, the chatter around you was a welcome distraction from the morning’s events. As you returned to the lobby, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Mingyu waiting for you. He greeted you with a broad smile, holding out a bouquet of vibrant flowers that seemed to brighten the entire space. You were flustered, and you became hyper-aware of the intrigued looks from your coworkers.

“You were gone when I woke up,” he said, his grin unwavering as you led him to a quiet corner of the lobby. 

“Yeah, well. I have work,” you replied, motioning to the front desk. “Were you waiting for me?”

Mingyu nodded, still smiling. “Yes. I was wondering if you have time tonight.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, and it clashed with the lingering happiness of the previous night. “Mingyu, I’m sorry. I don’t think we should do this. Last night was amazing, but I’m not really in the right headspace for any kind of commitment right now.”

His smile faltered for just a moment before he shrugged. “Oh, well. That’s a shame then.” You thought he’d be more disappointed but he seemed… indifferent? “I would have loved to try again, but it’s fine if you can’t.”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at your heart. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said, his grin returning like a boomerang. “Does that mean you wouldn’t want to hang out with me again? Even if it’s just… casual?”

You hesitated, weighing the implications. It didn’t sound so bad. “I… would love to. Heh.”

“Great! So, are you free tonight? I’m going to this gala later and I’m looking for a date.”

Caught off guard by the suddenness of his invitation, you blinked, your mind racing. A gala? With Mingyu? You didn’t want to lead him on, but the thought of dressing up, laughing, and being swept away from reality for a few hours was tempting. “Okay? Yeah. Sure.”

Mingyu’s smile widened, infectious and genuine. “Perfect! I’ll pick you up at seven?”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

That night, you stood in front of the mirror, your silvery satin dress shimmering under the light. It hugged your figure perfectly, something you hadn't paid much attention to in the past six months. As you adjusted a strand of hair, memories of those glamorous nights with Vernon surfaced uninvited—how he’d surprise you with a new dress and an invitation to a posh party, how he’d walk into the venues with his hand on your back, swelling with pride because you looked graceful next to him. And of course, there were those moments when you’d leave those parties early to grab pizza in some greasy diner, laughing in your tux and gown, ignoring the puzzled looks from other diners.

A smile tugged at your lips, recalling the memories that used to warm your heart but now left a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling you out of your thoughts. Mingyu had arrived. With one last glance in the mirror, you grabbed your things and hurried downstairs, finding him by his car. He greeted you with a wide smile, taking your hand and brushing his lips against your knuckles. It was a sweet gesture, and yet, it felt… foreign.

“You look stunning,” he beamed, holding the car door open for you.

As soon as you sat down and he closed the door, you felt a sudden pang in your chest—one that pained both your heart and your soul. The car was nice, but the unfamiliar interior and smell weighed heavily in your chest.

“Are you ready?” Mingyu asked, prompting your attention. You didn’t even notice him getting in, too absorbed in your thoughts.

“Yes,” you replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

When you reached the venue, the soft murmur of voices and the clinking of champagne glasses surrounded you. Mingyu’s hand rested lightly on your back as he guided you through the sea of guests, his presence warm and reassuring. Yet, despite his charm and ease, your mind kept wandering to the memories of the parties you’d went to with Vernon. 

Then, in a moment that seemed to pull you out of the haze, you saw him—Vernon, standing by one of the tall, draped windows, dressed in a sleek black suit. For a second, your breath caught in your throat. He looked just as you remembered, the same effortless grace, the quiet confidence. And…was that a flicker of jealousy in his eyes? You thought it was—his gaze lingering on you and Mingyu as you passed by.

Your heart raced as you tried to gauge his reaction, convinced he was feeling what you thought he felt. But just as quickly as the thought surfaced, Suji appeared beside him. She was stunning—tall, poised, with an air of elegance that made her impossible to miss. You haven’t met her before, but she looked like the kind of woman who had it all together, someone who seemed to float through life with ease. The way she stood next to Vernon with her hand lightly brushing his arm, sent a wave of nausea rolling through you.

Your chest tightened. Why did he have to pick someone who was so much better than you in many ways? Someone who knew exactly what she was passionate about and pursued it. Someone who exuded confidence effortlessly, not only in how she carried herself but in how sure she was in her career, her life, her choices.

You couldn’t stop the flood of comparisons. It was like Suji was standing on this pedestal that you could never quite reach, her brilliance making you feel smaller with every passing second. It was the worst. Vernon had moved on to someone who was everything you couldn’t be, everything you had once dreamed of being but had never managed to become.

Mingyu said something, trying to catch your attention, but his words blurred into the background as you watched Suji laugh at something Vernon said. The sound of her laughter—genuine, light, carefree—echoed in your mind like a mocking reminder of all the things you weren’t.

He’s happy, you realized, the thought hitting you harder than expected.

You turned away, clutching the stem of your champagne glass a little too tightly, forcing yourself to swallow the bitterness rising in your throat. But the smile you gave Mingyu, like everything else that night, didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Was it a bad idea?” Mingyu asked, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Coming here with me, I mean. Is he not supposed to see us together?”

You followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at Vernon. You shook your head. “No. It’s nothing like that.”

“Are you sure?” He held his jaw and moved it. “What if I get smacked? My jaw still hurts from getting punched by some dude two weeks ago.”

“Why would someone punch you?”

Mingyu grinned naughtily. “Let’s just say I’m a main event everywhere I go and I invite trouble from boyfriends who couldn’t stand seeing their girls fawn over me.”

You smirked, rolling your eyes though you found his cockiness funny. “Well, then you don’t have to worry about your jaw tonight. He has no reason to break it because…” you trailed off, sighing. “Just because.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” he chimed before excusing himself to talk to someone and leaving you alone for a moment. You glanced around, trying to distract yourself from the heaviness that had been following you all night.

That was when Vernon appeared by your side. “Hey,” he said, his voice casual. 

“Hi,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Good to see you. What’s up?”

“I thought I should let you know,” he began, a little hesitant. “I’m selling our apartment.”

You blinked, taken aback by his statement. “Oh. Well, you didn’t have to tell me. It’s yours, you can sell it if you want,” you replied, steadying your voice to hide the fact that your heart was racing.

“I know, but you lived there too, so you should at least know it’s going to someone else now,” he said, flattening his lips together. “It’d be good to grab your things as soon as possible too.”

“Of course! Friday after work, right? We agreed.”

“Yes,” he said before both of your fell silent.

You wanted to say something, anything, to cut through the tension, but everything felt wrong. Then, Vernon added, “I should go.”

You just hummed in response, nodding  as he walked away. Mingyu rejoined you then, tugging your elbow gently as he faced you with a mischievous smile.

“Would you care to fill me in on this… situation?” he asked teasingly.

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t hide the self-deprecating smile on your lips. “It’s a situation, that’s all you have to know.”

Mingyu took the flute from your hand and swapped it with a new one from the busboy who happened to pass by. Before giving it to you, he lifted it and grinned. “How many glasses of champagne before you willingly tell me everything?”

You scoffed. “Even if you give me an entire bottle—” you swiped the glass from his hand. “I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Boohoo. So boring,” he sniggered.

Some time within the night, you’d find yourself in a deserted hallway with Mingyu, making out with your back against the wall while he towered over you. The champagne buzz had reached your head and it didn’t help that you were clinging on a incredibly good-looking man who kept a firm hand on your waist all night. You knew you had to go back to his suite with him, and honestly? You were looking forward to it.

Soon, the party started to wind down. You and Mingyu agreed that it was time to go. You stepped out of the hotel with Mingyu’s coat on to shield you from the cold. His arm around your shoulders helped keep you warm too as you waited for the valet to arrive with his car.

Mingyu’s phone buzzed in his pocket and upon checking it, his brows furrowed darkly. “Damn it, not again.”

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed and then squeezed your shoulder before letting go. “I need to check something. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and he pressed a soft kiss on your cheek before walking away. As you watched him leave, you tightened his coat around you, looking back at the hotel lobby and wondering if you should go back inside. You were doing that when your gaze caught Vernon’s.

He was standing just a few steps away with his phone pressed on his ear. He saw you looking and nodded as a greeting. You mirrored his greeting, looking away right after and hoping to avoid conversation.

Mingyu came rushing back in no time, his phone pressed to his ear, frustration lining his face. He muttered a quick apology into the receiver before hanging up.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

Mingyu let out a long sigh. “My car won’t start. I was trying to get it sorted with the valet, but it looks like I’m going to be stuck here for a while.”

You glanced at the time on your phone, noting how late it was getting. “Oh no… do you need me to wait with you?”

Mingyu shook his head, his expression still annoyed but softening when he met your eyes. “Nah, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine, but you should head home. I’ll get you a cab.”

Before you could figure out how to respond, Vernon spoke up. “I can give you a ride,” he offered, his voice firm but not insistent. “It’s no trouble.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing between the two men. Mingyu gave you a hesitant look. “Is that okay with you? Do you know each other?” he asked, though he already knew who Vernon was to you.

“Yes, but I’m not sure,” you replied, surprising yourself with your honesty. “I think I’ll take a cab. I don’t want to impose.”

“Please, I insist,” Vernon said, walking closer. He must have noticed you looking behind him because he added, “You’re not imposing.”

You stared at him for a while, gouging out what he was thinking, but there was no hint of it in the way his expression remained unfazed. Mingyu’s hand on your shoulders prompted your attention.

“If you don’t trust him, let’s just get you a cab,” Mingyu offered, but you could see the glint of mischief in his eyes. He was enjoying this. He probably thought this ‘drama’ was entertaining.

“I’m sure I’m far more trustworthy than any taxi driver,” Vernon interjected.

“Well… if you’re sure,” you mumbled, avoiding Vernon’s gaze. You met Mingyu’s instead, and you could almost see the triumph in his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Just text me when you get home,” he said, waving goodbye. You could almost say he was excited to see you leave with your ex.

Mingyu gave you a soft kiss before saying goodbye. Still wrapped in Mingyu’s coat, you walked quietly behind Vernon, trying to steady your breathing and hoping he wouldn’t notice that you were nervous.

Vernon opened the passenger door for you, and as you sat down inside his car, a rush of memories hit you all at once. It was familiar, too familiar. Even the scent was engulfing you with nostalgia. This was the first time you’d ever felt like an outsider in such a familiar space.

“Where’s your apartment?”

You quietly typed in your address in the navigator and didn’t say anything else. Vernon seemed to understand your silence and he started driving without a word.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Vernon was the first to break the silence that had stretched on for about fifteen minutes.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Same here.”

“How do you know Kim Mingyu?” he asked, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before focusing on the road again. You couldn’t tell what his intentions were, nor could you grasp his emotions when he asked that.

“Why do you care?” you retorted, the words coming out sharper than you’d intended.

He paused before answering, his voice measured. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. I just want you to be careful. I’ve heard things about him. He’s got a bit of a reputation for being… a player.”

You scoffed lightly, turning your gaze out the window. “He’s a friend from college. I’m sure I know him better.”

“If you say so.” There was a moment of hesitation before he added, “Just… take care of yourself. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. You can hang out with anyone you like. I just hope you’d be careful, that’s all.”

Your chest tightened at his concern, but instead of acknowledging it, you let out a small breath. “His car wasn’t yours.”

Vernon glanced at you, clearly puzzled. “What?”

You stayed quiet, refusing to repeat yourself. Soon, the car slowed to a stop in front of your apartment building. You unbuckled your seatbelt, hesitating before reaching for the door handle. Vernon’s hands remained on the steering wheel, his knuckles pale in the dim light.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice softer than before.

“No problem,” he replied with his eyes straight ahead, avoiding yours.

You opened the door but paused halfway out. There was something in the air between you and it made it impossible to just leave. You needed to ask him, even if you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

“Vernon,” you started, turning back toward him. His name left your lips before you fully realized what you were about to say. He glanced at you, brows slightly raised in question. “Why didn’t you… why didn’t you fight for us?”

The question hung in the air, almost visible in the thick silence that followed. Vernon blinked, his expression unreadable at first. He shifted in his seat, letting out a slow breath as if he’d been holding it for a long time.

“I did,” he said finally, his voice low, like he was admitting something he hadn’t wanted to. “I did fight for us. But you—” He stopped, choosing his words carefully. “You were already gone. You’d made up your mind.”

You swallowed hard. “But you just let me go.”

Vernon turned his body slightly to face you, his eyes finally locking with yours. “I just let you go? I begged you to stay, did you forget?”

“No, I didn’t. But after that, when the emotional outburst was over, when we were calmer and more rational, why didn’t you try to fight for us?” you asked, your brows furrowed in curiosity.

“Well, why didn’t you?” he asked back, and suddenly, you forgot how to speak. Vernon watched you for a while, taking in your silence and seemingly coming to his own conclusion.

“I didn’t let you go because I wanted to,” he said, his voice rough around the edges. “I let you go because you wanted to. And I thought it was what you needed. And besides, I didn’t know how to fix it. Everything I did felt like it just made things worse. I loved you, but… I didn’t know how to make you stay.”

Something open inside you, something you hadn’t wanted to confront. But hearing him like this now, you had no choice but to accept the truth that it was your fault you broke up. You already knew, you just chose to delude yourself into thinking it was both your fault and his. 

The car felt smaller now, with the tension hanging in the air so thick it felt like you were suffocating. You could hear Vernon’s breathing, steady but shallow, and you realized how close you both were.

“I should go,” you whispered, but your body stayed frozen in place. Neither of you moved.

Vernon just nodded, his eyes still searching yours as if he was trying to figure out if there was something more to say. In the dim light, they seemed softer, more vulnerable than you’d remembered. His gaze flicked down to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to your eyes. It was barely noticeable, but you caught it and your pulse quickened.

You should leave. This wasn’t part of the plan—letting things get tangled up again, letting the past claw its way back. But instead, you stayed rooted in place.

You gathered your thoughts for a proper goodbye. “I’m sorry for everything, Vernon. I wished things had gone differently between us,” you said quietly. Your hand had somehow found its way to his arm, just resting there, the warmth of his arm seeping into your fingers. He looked down at your hand, and then back up at you.

“Too late for that now, isn’t it?” His voice was soft, vulnerable, and the intensity of it made your heart ache. 

“I know,” you replied, smiling timidly. 

Vernon didn’t say anything and just stared at you. You stared back, trying to understand the meaning behind his gaze and the significance of the slight scowl on his face. You didn’t even notice that you were both leaning in slowly. Only when you felt the warmth of his breath against your cheek did you realize how close you’d gotten. Your breath caught in your throat, your body frozen in place, torn between wanting to close the gap and knowing you shouldn’t.

For a split second, you thought he might kiss you. The thought sent a shockwave of emotion through you—longing, confusion, excitement and fear all at once. You tilted your head ever so slightly, your lips just a breath away from his.

But you stopped yourself. “No,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to break the spell that had momentarily taken hold of both of you. “This isn’t… we shouldn’t.”

“Right,” he said quietly, his voice flat. His jaw clenched, his eyes flicking away from yours as he leaned back into his seat. “I’m sorry.”

“I… I should go,” you repeated, this time you mean it. You pushed the door open and stepped out.

Vernon didn’t stop you. He just nodded, his eyes no longer meeting yours. “Take care of yourself,” he said softly.

You nodded, slipping out of the car, your body still buzzing with the closeness you had almost let happen. As you walked toward your building, you didn’t look back, but you could still feel his presence behind you.

And despite everything, as you climbed the steps to your apartment, a part of you wondered what would happen if you didn’t pull away.

The next day, you met with Mingyu just before he left. The conversation was easy, perfectly civil as if nothing significant had happened. He flashed his usual grin as he told you, “I’m flying back tomorrow.”

“It was fun having you around,” you said, offering him a polite smile.

“You liked the distraction, huh?” he retorted, wiggling his eyebrows.

Chuckling, you hit his chest. “Let me know if you’re ever in town.”

“Are you gonna show me a good time?” he teased, tilting his head as he leaned closer.

You rolled your eyes, a small scoff escaping your lips. “Just go away.”

After a tender kiss on your cheek, Mingyu waved you off, and just like that, he was gone—another fleeting moment in a series of encounters that left you feeling emptier than before.

By the weekend, you felt like dying, literally. It started with a sore throat, then chills, until finally, you found yourself curled up under layers of blankets, sick and miserable—alone in your apartment that felt too quiet, too cold. 

You lay there, groggy and disoriented, and all you could think about was how Vernon used to take care of you when you were sick. He’d make you soup, sit by your bedside, and remind you to take your medicine. He knew exactly how to make you feel comforted, even when you couldn’t take care of yourself. 

But now, Vernon was gone. You had to handle this on your own. You didn’t realize how much you’d miss being babied until now.

The day dragged on, your body was weak and heavy, and the hours blurred together in a feverish haze. It wasn’t until the afternoon that you heard a knock at your door—insistent, again and again, until it forced you to get up.

You shuffled to the door, body aching with every step. When you opened it, it was Vernon standing on the other side with a suitcase, most probably filled with the last of your things from his place. 

“Hi. You didn’t come by yesterday, so I thought I’d just…” he started, but then his eyes took in your pale complexion, the fatigue written all over your face. “...drop your things—are you okay?”

“Peachy,” you managed to quip.

“Here, let’s take you back inside.”

Before you could protest, Vernon took you by the arm and guided you back inside to your bed. You were too weak to argue, your body giving in to the relief of being cared for, if only for a moment. He tucked you in nicely, and you watched as he moved across the room to adjust the lights and your thermostat.

“How long have you been sick like this?” you heard him ask, and although you opened your mouth to speak, you weren’t sure if you answered him out loud before drifting off to sleep.

The next time you woke up, the room was dim, and the afternoon light pouring into the windows slowly faded into the evening. You blinked, disoriented, and realized you were tucked neatly into bed with a fever patch on your forehead. Across from you, Vernon sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone. The sight of him there, in your space, felt surreal—like a piece of the past had materialized in your present.

I thought it was a dream, you pondered as you pushed yourself up with your hands.

When Vernon noticed you stirring, he stood, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Sorry. I was just about to leave,” he said, his voice quiet. “I left some food on the table.”

You sat up slowly, the blankets still tangled around you. “Why are you here?” The question came out softer than you intended, but you needed to know. It didn’t make sense—why he was doing this, why he cared enough to be here now.

Vernon hesitated, his hand hovering by the doorframe. “I just… wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all.”

You frowned, not buying it. “You didn’t have to. You had no reason to.”

“I couldn’t really leave you like that,” he replied, a tightness in his voice. “I’m just looking out for you. For old time’s sake.”

“For old time’s sake,” you mocked, your words tinged with bitterness. “Right.”

He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away from yours. But the tension in the air had already thickened, pulling at the edges of the conversation. You couldn’t let it go—not this time.

“You’re lying, Vernon,” you said, sitting up straighter now, the exhaustion in your body giving way to something sharper. “You’re not here just for old time’s sake.”

Vernon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not lying.”

“Then why are you here?” you pressed, your voice rising. “Why are you acting like you care? If you don’t—if you don’t love me anymore, then why are you here?”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. The silence stretched, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” he finally said, his tone more strained than before. “It didn’t feel right to see you suffering alone.”

“You’re doing this because you still care,” you shot back. “I can see it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

Vernon’s expression hardened. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, your voice breaking slightly.

His eyes met yours, conflicted, and for a moment, you thought he might say something—something that would change everything. But then he shook his head, stepping back toward the door. 

“I’m leaving,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. 

A sudden impulse surged through you. You rose to your feet, feeling a little dizzy for standing up too fast. “Do you love her?” you asked, making Vernon stop dead in his tracks.

You stared at his back, chest tightening with frustration and longing. “Vernon, do you love her? Are you gonna marry her?”

“I don’t need to answer that.”

“Why not?” you demanded. “How hard was it? It’s a yes or no answer, Vernon.”

“And it’s not going to help you. If anything, I might end up hurting you more.”

“Why do you care how I feel?”

He turned to face you, frustration etched on his features. “What do you want me to say? That I’m miserable without you? That I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else? Because that’s not the truth and it isn’t fair to any of us.”

“Not fair?” you echoed incredulously. “What’s not fair is you leading me on! Making me think there is something for me to hold on to when there isn’t! That is what’s not fair!”

Vernon took a step closer, his expression darkening. “I’m not leading you on. Just because I care about you as someone who used to be special to me, doesn’t mean I’m trying to get back with you. It isn’t my fault if you’re misinterpreting my actions. ”

You glared at him, heart pounding. “Then answer my question,” you huffed, grabbing him by the collar and staring right into his eyes. “Do you love her?”

Silence enveloped you both, the tension was so thick that you could hear nothing but the heavy breathing from you and Vernon. You both stood there, staring into each other’s souls, tangled in a web of unresolved emotions.

Before you could register what was happening, he reached for you, cupping your face with his hands. And then his lips were on yours, tentative at first, igniting a fire that had long been extinguished. You kissed him back, the familiar warmth washing over you, the taste of him awakening something deep inside you that you thought had faded.

As the kiss deepened, it felt right in a way that nothing else had in months. You were lost in the moment, the world around you blurring until there was nothing but him and you.

But just as quickly as the warmth enveloped you, a cold wave of doubt crashed over your mind. You pulled away panting, uncertainty clouding your thoughts, telling you this shouldn’t be happening.

“Vernon…” you started, but he was already leaning in again, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

In the haze of passion, you both stumbled toward the bed, and everything fell away—time, space, even the reality of your situation. It felt exhilarating to be with him again, to feel desired and loved, even if just for a moment.

But as morning light filtered through the curtains, reality came crashing back. You blinked awake, groggy and disoriented, the warmth of the bed and the fading memories of the night before slowly coming into focus.

“You’re so beautiful,” Vernon had whispered in your ear last night. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

You forgot how you felt when you heard that from him, but you knew it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Your heart raced as you turned to the other side of the bed expecting to find it empty—and it was. The space beside you was cold. The warmth that enveloped you last night was now replaced by an aching void. Vernon was gone.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, heart sinking as memories of the night flooded back—how it felt to be with him, how everything seemed to fall back into place, if only for a fleeting moment. But the bliss faded as quickly as it had come, replaced by a feeling of immense unease.

Rubbing your eyes, you stumbled into the bathroom where the harsh fluorescent light flickered to life. You blinked at your reflection in the mirror, and your heart plummeted at the woman staring back at you—disheveled, hair a mess, eyes filled with confusion and regret.

“What did you do?” you whispered, covering your mouth with your hand as you fell on weakened knees.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you felt a wave of disgust wash over you. The reality and the consequences of your actions came crashing down. You had crossed a line. You made Vernon cheat on his girlfriend all because you couldn’t bear the thought of him moving on. How could you have let this happen? You felt awful, a knot of shame twisting in your gut. You had chased a fleeting feeling, clung to a moment that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

And now as you sat on your bathroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably, you couldn’t escape the truth; you had betrayed not just Vernon or Suji, but yourself. Regret filled your mind, and all you could think about was the pain you’d caused everyone and how that would haunt you long after this moment faded into memory.

Seungcheol’s eyes didn’t leave you, the slight furrow on his brows was a clear display of his disappointment toward you.

“I know. I was disappointed in myself too,” you said, letting out a deprecatory laugh. “I was stupid and I regretted it.”

“I’m not disappointed. I can’t possibly judge you for that,” he replied, waving a hand dismissively. “It was just unexpected from you.”

“Oh, so you know me now?”

“You’ve shared three of these stories. I think I have a grasp on what kind of person you are now,” he replied, eyeing you with a hint of curiosity and amusement on his face.

You hummed, tilting your head slightly. “Touche.” You sat up straight, eyeing the bottle in front of Seungcheol. He saw how your eyes twinkled with mischief and as if in defeat, he took the bottle and poured you a glass with a sigh.

“Thanks,” you chimed, taking a sip. “So, since you have a ‘grasp’ of who I am now, how would you have reacted if you were my friend at the time and I told you what I did?”

Seungcheol didn’t miss a beat. “I’d tell you ‘you messed up’.”

You gasped, hands covering your mouth dramatically. “No fucking way.”

The first thing you did after realizing your mistake was take a long bath and cry your eyes out. After that, you called Mina, desperate to talk to someone who would listen. Her reaction was not what you had hoped for, but it was expected. 

Anger flickered in her eyes and disappointment shadowed her face. “You messed up really badly this time,” she said, her voice sharp.

“Thanks… That’s exactly what I needed to hear at the lowest point in my entire life,” you replied, your tone biting. It was hard to swallow her judgment despite knowing you had crossed a line. 

“No. What the actual fuck was wrong with you?” she hollered, placing her hand over her forehead in frustration as she paced around your apartment. “Why did you let that happen?”

“I don’t know. I was… I was desperate. I thought…” you trailed off, everything felt like an excuse now and you didn’t want to drag this out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was so stupid.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t—” She exhaled sharply. “What happened to you? Why did it have to come to this?”

You buried your face in your hands. “I don’t know.”

Mina must have sensed your frustration then, the weight of your actions pressing heavily on your chest. She sat next to you and hugged you, rubbing your back as she let you cry your heart out once again.

Later that week, Vernon asked to meet, and despite the turmoil churning in your gut, you agreed. As you sat across from him in the café, you couldn’t look him in the eyes. The quiet stretched on, both of you looking miserable, drowning in the weight of what had happened.

“I—I just wanted to say that what happened… it was a mistake,” Vernon finally said, his eyes avoiding yours. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

His apology echoed in your mind. “It’s not just your fault, Vernon,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “You can blame me too. I pushed you into it. I should’ve just let you leave.”

“Still, it was me who—”

“I hope you’re okay,” you said, cutting him off. “I hope this doesn’t ruin what you have with Suji.”

“I hope so too,” he muttered, fiddling with his fingers. “I couldn't tell you I love her because we just started dating and I haven't fallen so deep in love with her yet. But I know for sure that I want things to work out with her. I like her a lot.”

His admission made your heart clench, not in pain but in relief. You were relieved to know he was serious about Suji, and that he’d try to make things work. For some reason, it gave you some sort of reassurance. It was odd because you didn’t know why you felt that way when you should be depressed over the fact that he really loved Suji and would not pick you over her despite what had happened between you.

“I wish you luck, Vernon.”

He smiled at you—one that was filled with affection, not for a lover but for a really dear friend. “Good luck to you too. I hope you find your own happiness soon.”

“You and me both,” you chimed.

You both agreed to move on properly, to face the consequences of your actions and try to find closure. As you parted ways for what felt like the final time, a heaviness settled in your chest, but it was a weight you knew you had to bear alone.

In the days that followed, you found yourself sinking into loneliness, drowning in your own thoughts. You replayed the events over and over, dissecting each moment until you could barely remember what had drawn you to Vernon in the first place. 

It was in this solitude that you realized it wasn’t Vernon that you wanted. You didn’t long for him or the comfort of his presence. You were just insecure. You wanted to prove to yourself that you were valued, loved, and that you were not inferior to anyone.  You didn't love him anymore; your ego was just bruised. The connection you thought you missed was really just a desperate need for validation, a desire to reclaim a part of yourself that you felt had been lost. 

The ache in your chest began to morph into something different—something like a resolution. You could rebuild, not just from the ashes of your mistakes but from the ashes of who you had thought you were. 

About two weeks later, you found yourself unexpectedly face-to-face with Suji at a library. As you watched her interact with children, you realized why Vernon was so taken by her. She really was amazing, not just because she was beautiful and radiant, but because she was soft-spoken, kind, and loveable. Shame washed over you, and you felt small in her presence, aware of the hurt you had caused her.

“Excuse me,” you managed to say while she was picking up the books the children had left behind. She glanced at you, eyebrows raised curiously.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t know if you know me, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“It’s okay,” she replied briskly, a polite smile playing on her lips. But the warmth didn’t reach her eyes; instead, you saw animosity in them. “I already know. Vernon told me.”

You bit your lower lip, feeling even smaller under her unwavering gaze. “I just wanna say I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

“It is, but it was also Vernon’s. You were both foolish,” she said, still with a smile but her words were blunt.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeated, your voice a whisper. You could feel your heart pounding, desperate for her understanding. “I don't know what else to say. I have no excuse.”

“Vernon and I are trying to fix things. We both intend to make it work, despite what happened.” Her expression hardened. “And I’m going to be honest: I don’t like you. I don’t really hate you either, but I hope we never have to see each other again.”

“Suji, I—”

“If we can’t avoid it, let’s just pretend we don’t know each other. I hope you’d do me that favor.” 

You nodded, the sting of her words cutting deep. “Of course. I just want you to be happy.”

“That includes Vernon. I don’t want you around us—around him.” She stepped closer, her face was calm but you could see the pain in her eyes. “It might sound childish, but this is the only way I’ll feel at ease.”

“Vernon is a good man. He would never hurt you. I—” 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” she shot back, her voice steady. “But when it comes to the woman he loved so dearly in the past, I think we both know what could happen. It’s difficult, you know? To compete with the ghost of the past you and Vernon had. He may be over it now, but that didn’t mean he’d completely erased you from his life.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to contain the overwhelming emotions. “I don’t wanna come between you two.”

“Do you still love him? Do you still want him back?” she pressed, her gaze unflinching.

“No. Not anymore,” you said and you were surprised because it didn’t feel like a life. In fact, it felt liberating to finally say it out loud.

“Then that’s good enough for me,” she replied, her voice softening. “Just stay away from us. Please.”

“Please forgive him,” you pleaded, desperation creeping in. “He made mistakes, but he’s still—”

“We’ll solve our own issues,” she interrupted again, her tone final. “And you’re in no position to ask me for any favors.”

You took a step back. “I know. I’m really sorry. I’m gonna… go.” 

As you turned to leave, you could feel her gaze burning into your back. You wished you could have said something more in apology, but you were content with the conversation too.

“So, here I am,” you said quietly to Seungcheol. “A promotion was offered at work and I took it. I had to pack my bags and work halfway across the country, but that was the best part of it. I was able to leave. I couldn’t stay there. I needed a reset. Far away from the life I was now too ashamed to live”

There was a long pause, the air between you feeling lighter now, as if confessing this truth had somehow eased the burden on your shoulders.

“And now?” Seungcheol asked gently. “How do you feel about it after all this time has passed?”

You thought about it for a moment, really letting yourself feel the emptiness where all that regret used to sit. But instead of pain, there was something else there now. Something calmer. Softer.

“Now?” You sighed, the answer finally clear. “Now, I think I’m ready to move on. Not from Vernon, but from everything. From needing someone else to tell me I’m enough.”

You leaned back in your chair, feeling lighter than you had in months—maybe even years. “I’m okay with being on my own now. All this time away gave me time to rediscover myself.”

Seungcheol’s smile was small but sincere. “That’s the most important thing, isn’t it?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think it is.”

For the first time in a long time, the silence that followed didn’t feel heavy or oppressive. It felt like peace. And for the first time, you let yourself believe it. You were free. Finally, truly free.

[fin]

[mellowsadistic]

Birthday Part - Part 2

Sarah’s Auntie, Helen, soothed her crying daughter and helped her out of her wet pull-up and into a fresh one. She was still furious at how cruel Sarah had been to Penny, but if all went according to plan then her three-year-old daughter was going to look positively mature compared to the little brat.

Helen was buzzing with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to go and see what Sarah looked like now. She knew how effective the hypnotist was – and this was exactly why she’d hired him. She’d been planning this with Sarah’s mother for quite some time. She’d given Sarah a final chance, just to be fair, but even she hadn’t expected the girl to be quite so rude. As far as Helen was concerned, her niece was getting exactly what she deserved.

As soon as Penny was in a dry pull-up, Helen took her by the hand and walked eagerly over to the back bedroom. There was a faint voice coming from within, followed by a high-pitched girlish giggle. Helen opened the door, and there she was... She smiled broadly sight of her bratty niece. The girl had been stripped of her crop top and jeans, and in their place was nothing but a glittering pair of fairy wings and a thick, white, disposable diaper bulging between her legs. Her bare breasts were out, and they wobbled on her chest as Sarah turned to face her with a dim, vacant grin on her face.

Helen couldn’t help but let out a cackle at the sight of her. “Hi sweetie!” she cooed tauntingly. “You’re looking very cute!”

“I’ve just finished telling little Sarah here all about how she loves being silly,” said the hypnotist. “Haven’t I, sweetie?” he asked the infantilized young woman standing next to him. “That nasty big girl is locked up inside your pretty little head. You’re just silly Sarah now, aren’t you?”

Sarah giggled again, nodding. “Siwwy Sawah,” she echoed.

“So she’s still conscious inside?” Helen asked the hypnotist while Sarah looked at them uncomprehendingly. Like Penny, who was still holding onto her mother’s hand, she looked as though she had no idea what the grown-ups were talking about.

“Oh yes,” said the hypnotist, smiling darkly. “The adult Sarah is still in there. She just can’t control her body at the moment.”

“Good,” said Helen in a satisfied tone. “I want it to be a punishment for her.” She looked into Sarah’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she thought she could see a hint of fury and horror behind them. She smirked. “Come on then, sweetie! Let’s get you and the birthday girl back to the party, shall we? We’ve got all sorts of fun things to do!” She turned to the hypnotist. “And nobody will see anything wrong with it?”

“Nothing at all,” he said. “I sorted that out when I did the mass session earlier. They’ll know she’s supposed to be a grown woman, but they’ll just accept in their heads that she’s nothing but an overgrown baby. They won’t think twice about her cute little boobies bouncing all over the place.”

“Mummyyy!” Penny whined. “Wanna go back to the party!”

“Okay, princess,” Helen crooned. “We’ll go back right now!”

Helen took Sarah by the hand and led the two girls back into the kitchen, with the hypnotist following behind, his eyes on Sarah’s padded bottom. To him, there was nothing better than taking pretty young women with attitudes and transforming them into overgrown toddlers…

Sarah was angry and terrified, but she had no way to show it. All she could do was rage and scream inside her head while her body smiled stupidly and toddled along beside her Auntie, her bulky nappy crinkling loudly with every unsteady step she took. What was going on?! Surely hypnosis wasn’t powerful enough to force her to act like a giant two-year-old?! They entered the kitchen, and immediately all the adults were swarming around them, cooing at her and Penny. She could see people chuckling at the sight of her bare tits, and some even reached out to tickle her tummy, making her giggle and squirm as if she was enjoying the attention.

“Time for some music!” her Auntie announced, and she started playing some embarrassingly babyish nursery rhymes on speaker. The brats were all dancing, and that’s when Sarah felt it, a sudden restlessness in her arms and legs. Without warning, her body broke into dance as well, and it wasn’t the kind of dancing she usually did at the club. There was nothing sexy or seductive about the way she was moving now. Sarah stomped her feet and waved her arms and shook her Pampered bottom to the silly baby music, giggling and squealing happily while all the adults watched and laughed. Even with her bare boobs out, the way they jiggled and bounced about on her chest just made her look ridiculous rather than sexy.

Inside her head, Sarah was seething. She’d never been more humiliated in her whole life! And then something even worse happened. Quite suddenly, she started wetting herself. There was no warning, no chance of holding it in. One moment she was prancing about in a dry diaper, and the next she was pissing. Her body didn’t seem to mind – she kept dancing and grinning like a moron, but internally she was cringing in shame as she flooded her nappy with wee-wee, and her baby-pants became droopier and droopier. Her warm pee sloshed about in her pants, and Sarah felt like she wanted to be sick. Other people had noticed her way her diaper was sagging, and the way it had become discoloured with her pee, and they pointed and chuckled openly. Her Auntie stepped forward and slipped her fingers down the front of her nappy without so much as a warning, but she only laughed once she’d felt the wetness there, and let Sarah go back to her absurd baby dancing.

The afternoon didn’t get any better. Sarah had to play pass the parcel and pin the tail on the donkey, all with a soaking wet diaper squishing horribly beneath her bottom. She’d promised herself she’d leave straight away if anyone asked her to go near a used nappy, but she’d never imagined she might have her own soggy diaper to deal with. She wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. She wanted to beat her Auntie and the hypnotist to a bloody pulp.

“Alright girls,” Sarah heard her Auntie say, once they’d finished yet another childish party game. “Who’s ready for cake?”

Sarah started jumping up and down in excitement just like the others, even as her stomach turned at the thought of the rich, calorie-heavy chocolate cake. They couldn’t do this to her! But there was nothing she could do but allow herself to be led over to the enormous chocolate cake. The other children (not the other children, she told herself firmly – she wasn’t a child) were all served their cake on cardboard plates first, leaving her bouncing on her feet, making her soaking wet nappy swing pendulously between her legs.

Grinning, her Auntie tied a pink bib around her neck and handed her a slice of cake. Sarah tried desperately to control her body, but she couldn’t stop herself reaching out and grabbing the piece of cake with her fingers and cramming it messily into her mouth. Soon there was chocolate all over her hands and face. She felt disgusting. She hated being messy!

Her Auntie smiled sadistically at her while she stuffed her face, and reached out to poke her in the tummy. “At this rate you might end up with a little bit of baby fat on your body!” she teased, her eyes glittering maliciously. “Wouldn’t that be adorable?” Sarah felt her stomach drop at the thought.

Once she was done, Helen cleaned her up – or at least, she cleaned up her hands. Although she wiped away some of the cake from around Sarah’s mouth, she made sure to leave her lips and chin smeared with chocolate.

At that moment, Sarah heard her tummy rumble.

Her Auntie tittered. “You can’t still be hungry!” she said. “Unless…” She smiled again, a dark and slightly eager smile. “Does little Sarah have to do a whoopsie?” she cooed delightedly.

Sarah just looked at her blankly, but she wasn’t sure she would have been able to speak even if she had been in control of her body. She felt frozen. No… Surely she didn’t mean...?

There was a cramping in her tummy, and Sarah clutched her belly. NO!

Helen leaned in close to Sarah’s face, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Is the poopy express about to make a stop in your pants, Sarah?” she asked.

Shrieking inside her mind, Sarah bent her knees and stuck her diapered bottom out behind her. Then, with a loud grunt, the twenty-one-year-old started filling her nappy with a big, yucky mess. Her diaper bulged about behind her and sagged even more heavily between her legs, until it was halfway down to her knees. Her pretty face was screwed up with the effort of dirtying her pants. She knew she must look utterly absurd, a grown woman dressed in only fairy wings and a nappy, packing her Pampers like an oversized two-year-old.

She prayed desperately that this was all some sort of horrible nightmare, that she might wake up any second. But when she was done pooping her pants, she looked up into the smiling face of her Auntie and said, “Me made poo-poo!”

“You certainly did!” her Auntie laughed, taking her by the hand and leading niece through the crowd, into the living room. “Choo-choo!” she called happily. “Make way for the poopy express! Little stinker coming through!”

Sarah just stomped along happily, as if she didn’t care one bit that all these people were seeing were waddling along in a clearly loaded diaper. Everyone was laughing at her. Then she saw where her Auntie was taking her, and she felt as though a bucket of icy water had been dumped over her. There, in the middle of the living room floor, the hypnotist had just finished laying out a large, plastic changing mat.

Helen lowered her down onto it gently, and Sarah wrinkled her nose in revulsion as her bottom squished against the filthy mess in her pants. Then her Auntie leaned in close so nobody else could hear and said, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, Sarah, because the hypnotist’s work isn’t just going to wear off. It has to be removed, otherwise you’ll just be stuck like this. And your mother and I have talked it over, and we think it would be best if you had a second try at babyhood. Maybe it will teach you to treat others with a little more concern. So get used to the feeling of a soggy, stinky nappy, Sarah. You’re not going back to normal for a very, very long time.”

Sarah’s lip trembled. It seemed that her hypnotised body had no intention of stopping her from crying.

“Oh Penny, princess!” Helen called, flashing a nasty look at Sarah before turning around. “Can you help me change your little cousin’s nappy? Just think of her as a great big dolly!”

Sarah saw Penny toddling over to her eagerly, ready to do what Sarah herself had been so disgusted by only a couple of hours earlier. As her legs were lifted into the air, and her Auntie got to work cleaning her up, Sarah thought about what her future would involve. She thought about all the messy mealtimes and baby dances and stinky diapers she would have to endure. Then she started wailing at the top of her lungs.

[charlesslut16]

hey babe i loved the max fic about the one wherereader pregnant, my idea/vision for part two is probably reader move somewhere probably england and live there fast forward years later they run into max. i think that's all i have thanks loveee

-gaining you to love-

summary : you and max meet again after all the trauma you had went trough

PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none?

note : i hope that you like this and please request more!!!

masterlist ; Part 1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Years had passed since you had last seen Max Verstappen. After the heartbreak, you had packed up your life and moved to England, seeking a fresh start away from the painful memories. 

You found solace in the quaint countryside and raised your child with the love and dedication that had always been your strength. In your heart, you still wished he and you could raise your child together.

But this would still always be your dream.

Your child, a vibrant and curious soul, grew up knowing about their father only through the carefully chosen stories you shared and the races you watched on television. 

It had never crossed your mind to not tell your child, who their father is. It just never felt right to you. How could you not allow your child to know the person that was one's your most loved person and their dad.

Max’s name was synonymous with greatness in the world of Formula 1, and even though you had distanced yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride every time his name was mentioned.

One crisp autumn afternoon, you were out shopping in the bustling streets of London with your now four-year-old child. The city had a way of making you feel both anonymous and connected, a perfect blend for the life you had built.

It was not the perfect life you had chosen, but it was as perfect as it could be. As you walked through the crowded market, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Max, your max, standing just a few feet away. He looked different, older, more mature, but the spark in his eyes was unmistakable. 

He had the same smile and the same voice, both features that broth you great happiness, a long time ago. Your heart skipped a beat, memories flooding back with an intensity that took your breath away.

“Max,” you whispered quiet, not quite believing your eyes. Max, your max, standing in front of you. Impossible, right? Your child looked up at you, sensing the shift in your emotions. 

Max took a step closer to the both of you, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to confirm that you were real. If it was really the love of his life.“I can’t believe it’s you,” he said softly. “How have you been?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice, not sure if words would come out surely and understandable.“I’ve been…good. How about you? You’ve done well for yourself. You have grown more mature”

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. A smile that had not shown like that, since you left.“Yeah, it’s been a wild ride. But I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

Before you could respond, your child tugged at your sleeve, looking curiously at Max. You did not thread this moment, but you sure were nervous.“Mommy, is that?”

You took a deep breath, kneeling down to your child’s level. “This is, Max,” you said gently. Not too sure if your child was ready for this important moment in their life.

Max’s eyes widened as he looked at the child, realization dawning on him. It was his your child. The child he did not chose. “Is this…?” he began, his voice trailing off and cracking slightly.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “Yes, Max. This is our child.”

He looked back at you, a mix of emotions playing across his face—shock, regret, longing. All because his younger self chose his career and not his family. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You agreed, and the three of you found a quiet café nearby. As you sat down, the tension was palpable. Your child, oblivious to the emotional undercurrents, chattered happily about their favorite books and toys. 

Max listened intently, a soft smile on his face, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. He had never realized how the feeling of being content really felt until this exact moment.

Once your child was occupied with a coloring book, Max reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I was scared, and I handled it all wrong. I’ve regretted it every day since.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you listened to his words. “I was hurt, Max. So hurt. But I had to be strong for our child. I moved here to start over, to give them a good life.”

“You’ve done an incredible job,” he said, his eyes full of admiration. “But I want to be part of their life. I want to be a part of your life. I want us back. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at your child, then back at Max. The pain of the past was still there, but so was the love you had always felt for him. And always will.“It won’t be easy,” you said softly. “But I want what’s best for our child. They deserve to know their father.”

Max nodded with a lift of his lip, his grip on your hand tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. I want to be here for both of you. To have you both with me.”

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of emotions as Max integrated himself into your life. He was patient and understanding, taking the time to get to know your child and to rebuild the trust between you. 

The bond that had once been so strong, that you had thought would never be like that, slowly began to mend, and the love you thought you had lost forever started to rekindle.

One evening, as you sat together in your cozy living room, your child asleep upstairs, Max turned to you with a serious expression. “I want to make up for lost time, Y/N. I want to be a family. Will you give me another chance?”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination there. The years of hurt and loneliness had taken their toll, but the love had never truly faded. “I want that too, Max,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve always wanted that. I had always hoped for a happy ending for us.”

Max pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you both let the tears flow. It felt like coming home after a long, arduous journey. The pain of the past was still there, but it was overshadowed by the promise of a future together.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Max built a life together, full of love and laughter. Your child thrived, surrounded by the warmth of a united family. Max balanced his racing career with his newfound responsibilities, proving to be a devoted father and partner.

The journey had been long and painful, but it had led you to this moment—standing together at the finish line, not as competitors, but as a family. And as you looked at Max, you knew that despite everything, you had finally found your way back to each other.

In your heart, you had truly known that this would be the outcome. It was a dream that came through and even tho you all went to tremendous pain you would go through it as a family.

A family he chose.

[louisferrignojr]

i'm gonna go ahead and say something very controversial but i'm not interested in another "buck feels abandoned" arc re: eddie moving to texas. please be aware this is coming from a person with abandonment issues and easily triggered RSD. i get it.

when i say i want some fucking character development for buck, this is what i mean. it's been 8 seasons. we cannot be doing the same shit over and over again, and yes, as much as 911 has an ongoing theme of "your past catches up to you and triggers you unexpectedly" and "grief and trauma are never fully resolved" which are all good and make for interesting storytelling. i cannot reconcile with the idea that a 33 year old man is gonna feel "abandoned" by his best friend moving back to his hometown to be with his son to repair the relationship he damaged. like that's fucking common sense. of course eddie needs to do this.

like, will buck be sad? sure. your friend moves away. you miss them. you're allowed to sulk a little bit. but as a fucking grown up, you want what's best for them, you want to support them — and we saw it in the episode, he immediately put his baking-to-cope aside to help eddie with his facetime appointment — and the sadness only showed on his face when eddie wasn't looking, because that's what you do when you're a mature adult.

now, with tommy? that's different altogether. that's the person you're wanting to build a future with abruptly ending your relationship and leaving you hanging, wondering what the fuck happened. the fact that he's trying to stop himself from calling tommy is, at the very least, a sign that he has questions he wants answers to, he wants closure, he's open to reconciliation. this breakup would absolutely bring up old wounds of being left behind. not that i trust the show to give us anything meaningful, even if they do get buck and tommy back together — but this is how i see it anyway.

[fujoshirat]

When the Shouto Todoroki saves you and your kindergarten students at the aquarium during a villain attack, you can't seem to get him out of your head. Bonus: you're quirkless and he's a pro hero, so you live in two different worlds. The glue? His cute nephew that's obsessed with rocks and that just so happens to be in your kindergarten class.

In short: You've become obsessed, you suppose. But that's all right, you're not the only one that's obsessed.

WARNING: Todoroki family troubles (in the eyes of Kaoru); Kaoru's rock collection hyperfixation! Please note that this chapter is written in lovely, little, mature, and smart Kaoru Todoroki's POV ♡ (so the improper grammar is intentional I promise 😓😖)

Note! "Oji-san" refers to Shouto, Kaoru's uncle. "Ojii-san" refers to Enji, Kaoru's grandfather. "Baa-chan" refers to Rei, Kaoru's grandmother. "Oba-san" refers to Fuyumi, Kaoru's auntie.

Part 1! Part 2!

3 - Things That Kaoru Loves

Kaoru loves his oji-san. Oji-san was the most coolest, most specialist person he knows. He could make fire dance in his palms-so cool! And then FWOOSH-he can make ice appear too! Kaoru liked to pretend that he could do that. When he gained his quirk on his fifth birthday six months ago, he knew that he wanted to be just like his oji-san. He wanted to learn from his oji-san how to use his ice quirk. Sure, Kaoru loved his dad and wanted to learn how to control his ice from him too, but oji-san? Oji-san was ultra cool! Oji-san was friends with cool people too. He told Kaoru stories about Deku and Dynamite, about his ojii-san before he retired, about the super cool All Might!

Kaoru loves his teacher. Y/N-sensei always smiled at him in the morning and helped him tie his shoelaces. Y/N-sensei's voice was soft. She wasn't noisy like his teacher last year (so stinky and mean). Y/N-sensei smelled like the peaches (his favorite) at the store that his dad always takes him to so they have dinner. She didn't have a quirk, but Y/N-sensei was one of his heroes, too. When she would give him a piece of candy and a bright smile for completing his work correctly, Kaoru's tummy would feel warm and happy. Most of all, Y/N-sensei thought his rock collection was so cool. "Y/N-sensei, my oji-san got me a new rock." "Oh really? That's so cool! You should bring it for show and tell tomorrow!"

Kaoru loves his rock collection. On his fourth birthday, his dad gave him a little wooden box with a few shiny rocks inside. When he lightly shook the box, they made a clinking, rattling sound.

"Kaoru-kun, do you know what these are?"

"Rocks."

"Yes, but, their special rocks. Do you notice anything about them?"

Upon further inspection, the little boy noticed that they had swirls of color and shone like tiny treasure in the light. Each rock was different: some were smooth, some were jagged, some had multiple hues while others had only one vivid color. Since then, Kaoru's made it his mission to find more rocks. Anywhere he went->the grocery store, baa-chan's backyard, the beach->he would pick up a special-looking rock and add it to the little wooden box of treasures. He didn't care of some of the rocks he found were "dull" (that's what Taro-kun said, but he doesn't know anything about rocks). All of Kaoru's rocks had a story, just like how his oji-san always had a story to tell him whenever Kaoru saw him at his house. His oji-san sometimes brought him rocks too. He'd gift them to Kaoru for Christmas or after missions. Kaoru's collection had grown so big that his oba-san bought him a new box for his fifth birthday. Now, he could fit his newer rocks in plus his super cool new fossil that his oji-san got him when he went to America last month.

Kaoru doesn't understand grown-up stuff. He doesn't understand why baa-chan and ojii-san never hug like the grandparents on Bluey, or why he doesn't have a mom like Mio-san. He asked his dad once, when it was bring-your-kid-to-work-day at the clinic, but his father just smiled at him. "Papa's got his hands full with you and his clinic. Besides, you've got me and all of your family. Isn't that enough?" Kaoru thinks that it's enough, he loves his dad more than anything in the world. More than more than Y/N-sensei, more than his oji-san, more than his rock collection. However, that didn't quench his curiosity. He still occasionally wondered why he didn't have a nice mom to bring to the school play or put little notes in his lunchbox like his friends did. Dad was too busy to do that. He made yummy food and tucked Kaoru into bed and went to all of his school events, but his doctor job at the clinic sometimes took him away from Kaoru.

The thing that Kaoru doesn't understand the most is why his oji-san and L/N-sensei weren't together. They liked each other, right? Oji-san looked a little silly whenever he saw Y/N-sensei. His ears would turn red and he would stutter. Y/N-sensei would smile extra cheerfully and play with her skirt. That's how you knew that someone likes someone, right? Himari-chan taught him that when she was practicing her reading at school.

"Kaoru-kun! The book says that if someone likes someone, they turn red and stu-stu- uhm...How do I say this?" "Stutter?" "Yeah! And smile super bright!"

Kaoru's curious about the world around him, but it doesn't matter. As he takes a bite out of his strawberry ice cream, he looks up at his uncle, who's also holding strawberry ice cream. Oh well, he supposes, that's why he's only five.

.

.

.

But then, Kaoru gets the most coolest, genius idea ever for a five-and-a-half-year-old.

"Oji-san," he swallows some ice cream, "you should give Y/N-sensei a rock." The tall man's eyebrows lift slightly. "...A rock?"

"Mhm." lick. "Like the Adelie penguins." lick. "Adelie penguin boys give a girl penguin a rock because he loves her," he recites word-for-word, exactly what he remembers his teacher telling him. Shouto's cheeks flush red as he finishes his ice cream.

"How can you tell that I like her?"

Kaoru kicks at the concrete under his feet, continuing to eat his ice cream. "Your ears turn red and you start stuttering. And then when Y/N-sensei sees you, she starts smiling a lot and playing with her skirt, like oba-san does when she sees her boyfriend." The five-year-old can't help but grin when he sees his oji-san's jaw drop.

"You're... very observative."

"That's what Y/N-sensei says."

Shouto smiles at that. When he begins speaking again, his voice is gentle. "Kaoru-kun, it's more complicated than giving someone a rock."

The little boy finishes his ice cream, a small frown appearing on his face. "But why?" The pro hero hesitates for a second. His voice comes out softly, almost like a whisper. "It's not easy to tell someone how you feel, even if you really like them." 'But if Y/N-sensei sees a pretty rock, she'll be happy,' Kaoru thinks to himself. Scanning the few pebbles nearby, he absentmindedly picks up a smooth, speckled stone.

"Oji-san, what if someone else gives her a rock before you do?"

Kaoru's words seem to hit something in his uncle, because suddenly his eyes widen and his left side twitches. Shouto's nephew watches him take a breath before smiling again, reaching down to ruffle Kaoru's hair. He whines in protest: "Oji-san!" Shouto chuckles and crouches down to the little boy's level.

"You're smart, Kaoru-kun. You're a good kid. Don't ever change, okay?" The man's eyes wander to Kaoru's right hand, where the spotted stone rested. He quirks a brow at the sight.

"You should give her this rock, oji-san. She'll love it."

Shouto laughs warmly, eyes crinkling slightly and hand patting his nephew's shoulder. "Alright, I'll do it." Kaoru's eyes widen and sparkle, and he eagerly hands Shouto the rock. He jumps up and down excitedly, the most excitement he's ever shown in his life.

"Yes!"

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Shouto loves his nephew. He doesn't think that his rock collection obsession is weird, he thinks it's cute (it gives him nostalgia about Izuku's All Might hyperfixation). Shouto's frankly impressed by how smart and perceptive Kaoru is. He definitely did not expect Kaoru to pick up on his crush on L/N-san. 'Am I that obvious??' Kaoru's a smart boy too. According to to Natsuo and the beautiful L/N-san, Kaoru's top of his class even though he doesn't like talking much. Shouto doesn't understand kids, but he understands Kaoru. He understands how excited the little boy gets when he finds the perfect rock. Shouto thinks-no, knows-that you're the perfect gem. You're caring, sweet, attentive, bright, positive, everything he thinks he lacks.

And maybe Kaoru sees your real beauty, too, because here he is, telling Shouto to give the most perfect woman a rock.

To treasure the finest treasure that he's found: you.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

A/N: That's it for part 3! I hope you enjoyed it (˶◜ᵕ◝˶) Thank you so much for reading this part and the entire series so far!! I love love love the cutest little Kaoru Todoroki ToT It was a challenge writing the POV of a five-and-a-half-year-old, so I apologize for making him REALLY mature! I did envision him to be a mature and smart kid (like ShouShou <3), but I think I overdid it ><

Anyways! Thank you for your patience regarding this part and all of my works in general! I hope that the wait wasn't too long, and that this made up for it ♡\(´･ᴗ･`)

And finally: THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE FOR ALL OF THE LOVE AND SUPPORT! Parts 1 and 2 really blew up, Part 1 reaching over 300 likes! When I first made this account, I would have never expected to reach that many people. You all really make my days and I'm just so thankful for the positivity ദ്ദിദ്ദി(˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) If you couldn't already tell, I am an amateur writer. I've been in this fandom and Tumblr for a LONGGG time, but have never found the motivation to write until now. Receiving this much love and positivity is really amazing and I hope to continue making good works and content <3

Just like before, I hope you look forward to the next part! I'll try to get it done as soon as possible depending on my schedule. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, feel free to let me know!

TAGLIST: ♡♡ @roseapov @brittanylikesstuff @stanseventeen @qardasngan @jastoo46 @kysoshir0

[celestie0]

guys its seriously not the end of the world that ihm gojo has an ex wife like fr 😭 he’s a 34 y/o financially stable & attractive grown ass man, i’d be more concerned if he DIDNT have past serious relationships up to this point

some asks i’ve received ab it have been borderline really rude to me about my creative decision to give him the plotline of a past wife who he, yes, was very in love with (or else why tf would he marry her lmfao)

i have received asks of people saying they find it gross, they think that it’s “bullfuckery”, that they actively ignore that aspect of the fic because they disagree/dislike it (like ffs how rude to admit that to me lol), that they don’t think it makes sense for him to be with someone that isn’t reader, that he “loses aura points” for having an ex wife…etc

please think about how that feels to me, as an author, to have my creative decision constantly belittled, questioned, and made irrelevant like that…there are ACTUAL toxic shit you could call a character out for n i wouldnt be mad ab it bc, yknow, that’s warranted. BUT A GROWN MAN HAVING AN EX WIFE? 😭😭

😅 i only really speak up about things when it gets to being too much, and i’m now doing so bc i’ve probably received 15+ asks with these sorts of rhetoric so far and i’m getting kind of sick of it

if you think a 34 y/o man having a prior relationship is “gross” just because it wasn’t with YOU (aka the reader), then i feel like there’s a difference in maturity between you & i and i’d rather not interact w you on that regard

and i’m sorry to say this, but there will be a LOT of ihm gojo’s ex wife in future chapters. there will be an extensive backstory chapter of their marriage too, where i will not shy away from themes of love and sex between them even if it’s not “with the reader”…if you’re gonna feel some type of way about that, then ihm is not the story for you

i don’t resonate with that level of jealousy or possessiveness over a character, hence why i’m comfortable writing about it. if you’re not comfortable reading it, then you’re not going to enjoy what i have planned for ihm

and if you think your passive aggressive words will get me to change my mind about what i choose to do with the story, then you’re wrong

of COURSE he is going to end up with reader in the end, but that doesn’t discount the person that he was before he met her. i want him to stand in ihm as one of the main characters in his own right, n not just as the “love interest”

like idk i just feel awful bc it’s like every month i have to come on here and make some type of boundaries over these sorts of asks that i get n idk if it’s a me problem at this point lmfao?? but i just don’t understand the entitled and rude language that is often thrown my way w regards to my works 😅 but i can’t sit by and pretend like i’m ok with it hence why i’m speaking up and will continue to speak up if it teaches some of you about fanfic author/reader etiquette

as always ily to all my other readers obv this just applies to the rude few n not to all my other beautiful angels 😃😃 much love 💕 and i’m gonna take a bit of a break from here so hope you all have a nice week ahead of you

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 1

Source for pic

Trouble 1

Word Count: 3819

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Special Warning 2: I advise reading the introductory chapters first, as they give a sense of the story, introduce characters and locations and, this chapter starts off immediately after the Sanji chapter. Your first interaction with Zoro is in those chapters! If you don't want to read the other characters, I recommend reading, at least, Zoro's Chapter since it's their first interaction!

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I'm posting this but with some dread weighing on my chest, I'm afraid... I hope (and I'm crossing all my fingers and begging Lady Luck to be on my side) that I'm able to post one chapter per week. But if I fail this goal, please forgive me in advance... I do have the whole story planned, I just (sadly) don't have much energy to write it. Alas, I am too curious to see what you guys think of my grumpy green-haired cop. I hope you enjoy, let me know all about it, will you?

Masterlist | |Chapter 2|

Party at Luffy's on Saturday. Just the usual suspects. Meet at six and bring snacks! 

You stare at the screen of your phone, your teeth chewing absentmindedly on your lower lip. A party does sound fun. ‘The usual suspects’ means your classmates and friends, some of whom you haven't seen in forever and actually miss. 

“Son of a three-legged chicken! Goddammit!” And then there's Shanks, hurting himself and cursing like an old man because he refuses to get surgery. 

Should you leave him alone?

“Dad? Are you in one piece?” You scream into the living room as you fill your coffee mug. 

“Yes, Bug. I'm fine! I just stubbed my toe on the couch, it wasn't my back this time.”

With a heavy sigh, you take a long gulp of your drink and close your eyes when you scald your tongue, your fist pounding the countertop to stop a string of your own curses from leaving your lips. 

“Bug?”

“I'm fine, Dad!” Opening the cabinet to take a cookie from the tin to soothe your ache, you realise it's empty and release another sigh. Your father always had a sweet tooth, but you could swear that the tin was full to the brim yesterday! 

Since you need to buy snacks for the party, you'll use the trip to fill up the cabinets and fridge. “I'm going to the store, Dad. What do you need?”

And as Shanks lists rows of unhealthy things you're not really going to buy for him, you reminisce about the old school days when you and your friends used to hang out after school. 

Nami, Robin, Luffy, Zoro, Kaya, and Usopp, the usual suspects, as Nami said. Those were the good old days. But now that you are all grown up, will hanging with them feel the same? Or will you feel left out? 

Shaking your head as you gather your keys and purse, you realise that you're overthinking things. You've already spent time with Robin and Nami, and everything still feels the same. Reconnecting with Kaya at the clinic also felt familiar and heartwarming. You still haven't met Luffy and Usopp since you got back, but you can't stop a silly smile from forming on your lips when you think about your encounter with Zoro. 

When you were both younger, there was a time when you had the biggest crush on him. It happened almost right before you left your hometown. You were starting to feel rebellious from all the fights your parents were having, and Zoro had the ultimate ‘bad boy’ look. 

But then you left. 

And you didn't even decide to peek behind that door. And now? Well… now you are just off men in general. So you're hoping your first encounter will be the prelude to rolling back into an easy friendship full of banter and good times. 

-*-

You haven't been to this particular grocery store since you were a teenager, and it has evolved! What was a simple, small store with essentials is now a full-blown supermarket, and you have no idea where anything is. 

As you stumble blindly through the maze-like corridors, you sigh in relief. There, at the top of the shelf, lies the only thing missing from your list, the only sweets you're willing to bring to your Dad, his favourite cream-filled chocolate cookies. 

Just out of reach. 

You look around, feeling a little lost. Maybe you should ask for help, or locate a stool or something you can use for height. But as soon as you start to walk towards the aisle, a gentle tap on the shoulder startles you, and you shriek. 

“I'm sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you. You look lost. Need help?”

A shaky smile curves your lips as you try to calm your racing heart. It's just a store clerk. His smile is cute, and clearly, he finds you cute too because he's smirking suggestively. 

“I just need the cookies on the top shelf. I can't reach them.” You smile politely, trying to show that you're not interested in flirting, but actually need his help. 

He walks with you until the end of the aisle and points at the box of cookies. “Those?” You nod with a smile, already anticipating leaving the store that gave you a small migraine. He lifts his arm, stops, lowers it again, and smiles at you. “Are they for you?”

Your brow quirks up, and your smile falters as you balance your heavy basket on the other arm. “No.”

“Oh.” He tilts his head, crosses his arms, and you frown. “A boyfriend, perhaps?”

“They're for my father.” You say, slightly annoyed, and point at the cookies again. “Can you please help me?”

Raising his arms, he nods. “Sure thing.” And then he lowers his arms again, pulling a sigh from deep within you with the gesture. “Say… what did you say your name was?”

“I didn't.” You have half a mind to turn away and leave the store without the cookies, except they are the only indulgence you are allowing Shanks amidst an entire basket filled with healthy food. So you force another smile through gritted teeth. “Can you please help me with the cookies?”

The tips of his fingers brush the box, and you raise your hand, but he lowers his arm again, making you grunt in frustration. “You're drop-dead gorgeous. How about I give you the cookies and you give me your number?”

Seriously? 

It's not even clever flirting, it's just downright aggravating. 

“I think I'll–”

“Is this what you wanted, babe?” A gravelly voice interrupts your tirade as an arm raises above your head, retrieving the box of cookies and waving it in front of your face. 

You feel your cheeks heating up, but you force a smile to appear so you can play along. Zoro's wicked grin lets you know he came to your rescue. 

“Yes, baby, it is. Thank you so much.” 

The look on the clerk’s face is a mix of displeasure and disbelief, but he doesn't move from his spot, so Zoro laces his hand around your waist and pulls you closer, raising his brow at the employee's direction. 

He finally gets it and wishes you both a good day before leaving you alone. After he turns the corner, Zoro loses his grip on your waist, and you don't read too much into the way you miss his touch. 

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?” He teases and you laugh. 

“Always.” Taking the box of cookies from his hand, you nod. “Thanks for the help, that was getting awkward! The cookies are for my dad.”

Zoro smirks and crosses his arms, a six-pack dangling from his index finger. “Mr. S. still likes those cookies?” A snort leaves his lips. “Guess some things never change.”

You're about to agree with a shake of your shoulders when you bump into the shelf, making it rattle. A squeak leaves your lips when Zoro pulls you away from the shelf just as a tin of biscuits rolls off and crashes on the floor, right where you were. 

“Careful!” He admonishes you as you hiss and thank him. After a stern look, his face returns to an easygoing smirk, and he shakes his head. “Some things never change.”

“Hey! I resent that.” But he's right. You're a hazard. And that's why he's been calling you Troublemaker since you were both teens. “Are you shopping for Saturday too, officer?” You call him an officer, but he must be off duty since he's wearing jeans and a tee. 

He nods with a chuckle. “Nami said to bring booze. Usopp, Robin and Luffy won't drink.” He raises the beers. “These are for Nami and I'll bring real alcohol for myself. I'll be off duty.” Then his smile falters. “I'm not sure if you drink or not. We've been away from each other for so long.”

Your eyes leave his for a moment as guilt washes over you. It's your fault you fell apart from your friends. You left, you chose to stay away during the holidays, you were the one who abandoned them.

“Not too much.” You sound small as a resigned sigh shakes your shoulders. “Just socially…”

The silence that drags afterwards begins to stretch into awkwardness, until Zoro snorts. “Well, if you decide to be social around Luffy, you won't drink much, but if you stick with me, Trouble, you'll drink a lot!” 

His teasing makes you grin as you balance on the tips of your toes so you can be at eye level with him. “We'll see about that, officer.”

A low chuckle leaves his lips, and you giggle with him. Then he reaches out and takes your heavy basket from your hands. “You done shopping?” 

“Yes, but I can carry my own groceries.” You say as you start to follow him down the aisle. And then you trip over your feet and smack his back with your nose. Zoro stops, turns his head, and raises his eyebrow in a very ‘you were saying’ manner, and you flush beet red. “Fine! You can carry the groceries.”

But as he takes another step, you grab his arm, squeal internally at how well-defined his bicep muscle is, and turn him the other way. “It's this way, though. Smartypants.”

Zoro grumbles and purses his lips but follows you wordlessly. You're still rubbing your sore nose when you give him a teasing smirk and playfully stick out your tongue. “I might attract trouble, but you still can't tell left from right to save your life.”

“Hey!”

“How did you pass the ‘How to Be a Cop’ exam?”

“That's not a thing.”

“I'm sure your captain has to stick a GPS collar around your neck, or they never know where you are…”

You can practically feel him fuming beside you as you walk up to the cash register, and you feel your chest bubbling with laughter. 

“Keep it up, Trouble, and the next thing you'll bump into won't be as soft as me.” He snickers as he helps you unload your basket onto the register. 

“Aww!” You take out your phone and place it in front of his face. “Say you're soft again so I can record it. I'm sure Nami will love to tease you about it.”

His smirk turns into a grumpy pout in a mere second. “I didn't say I'm soft. I'm just trying to keep you alive so you don't end up as paperwork on my desk. I've got enough to do as is.” You laugh so hard that the cashier stares at you both. 

“Sure, big guy. You'd probably get lost on your way to find a pen just to fill it out.”

Zoro's about to retort when the cashier clears his throat, clearly done with his job and waiting for you to stop flirting and pay. You blush and settle the bill, then wait while Zoro pays for his booze. 

Once again, he carries the bags for you and, this time, you don't even protest, knowing how futile it will be. 

“Thanks, but you don't have to walk me to the car. I'm a big girl, you know?”

Zoro grabs your arm before you bump into the door, which takes a beat longer to open, and you clear your throat as he hums. “Yes, you are.”

You focus really hard and manage to avoid stepping on a puddle and bumping into a cart just to prove that you can handle it, but Zoro's snicker is still in place when you both reach your car. 

“So what's a girl gotta do to get some good coffee around here?” You tease as you load the groceries into the trunk of your car and close it. Then you kind of want to smack your face against it. You didn't mean to sound so forward, you just wanted to spend some more time with Zoro. It all felt so… natural. 

He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, there's a good spot just around the corner. You can't miss it.”

“Oh, is it the best?”

“Nah…” He sighs and curls his lip in contempt. “Swirly Brows has the best coffee. But it's on the other side of town.” Zoro leans against the car, and you open the door. Either he's not getting your hints, or he just doesn't want to have coffee with you. 

“You mean Sanji?” He grunts in agreement and you sense some story there. “I've met him. He's really nice! And the coffee is to die for.” You smile and Zoro stiffens a bit. 

“Yeah, he's nice to all girls.” He leaves it at that, and you don't pry. The conversation stalls, and you linger, but he still doesn't say anything. 

Oh, well. Maybe you were the only one having fun, and he just felt like he was babysitting an accident-prone big baby. 

“I guess I'll–”

“Want to get coffee, then?” He interrupts while placing his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh.” You smile. “Thought you'd never ask.”

You close the door, lock the car, then pace a little faster to keep up with Zoro's long strides. 

“You sure we're heading the right way?” He groans as an answer, and you giggle. “It better be good coffee.”

“Like I said, it's good, not the best. But you can ask for the best on Saturday, the Cook will be there too.” His voice is clipped, like he thinks you might show some interest in Sanji, and you can't help but feel a little warmth in your chest. Is he jealous? 

But then his mention of the gathering churns your stomach for a whole other reason, and you become quiet all of a sudden. Zoro silently switches sides with you, making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk as he takes the side closer to the road, and you sigh. 

“What's wrong?” Zoro's eyebrow quirks up and you realise he's splitting his attention between your surroundings and your expression. He's attentive to every car, every person, every sound, and motion. 

And he's doing it unwillingly. 

“I… I just… I'm nervous.” You finally admit with a resigned sound. 

“About what?” He grimaces. “The Cook?”

What? “No!” You let out an exasperated huff. “You guys stuck together all these years, and I left… I made no effort to connect with you, besides Nami and Robin, and you kept going with your lives. Now I just kind of fell back into your lives, and Nami is dragging me back into the group like I still belong.” You sigh without meeting his gaze and he places a hand on your arm to steer you away from a pothole you missed and would've tripped over if he hadn't seen it. “I feel like an outsider, that's all.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Excuse me?” You stop dead in your tracks just to stare at his smug face. “I’m baring my heart to you, and that’s all you have to say?”

Zoro crosses his arms and stares at you deadpan. He was never one to mince words or to soften them to deliver lighter blows, and you always cherished that about him. His brutal honesty. 

“You’ve been gone for a while, it’s true, and maybe some of us don’t quite understand why you didn’t feel the need to stay connected… to reach out… but that was your decision.” There’s a hint of hurt in his voice, and you feel shame shadowing your thoughts again. He’s talking about himself. Running a hand through his short green hair, he exhales a deep breath. “But you’re still part of the crew. You’ll never be an outsider. And if you think Luffy will let you feel left out, you’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with.”

A small smile curves your lips, and though you’re not fully convinced, you resume your slow walk. 

“I know… but still… it’s been so long, and–”

“Careful!” Zoro’s hand shoots up, and he stops you just as you were about to cross the road with a red sign. “Jesus Christ, you’re even worse than before. How the hell did you survive all these years? You should carry a neon sign with you since you’re a walking hazard.”

A flush burns your cheeks as you cross your arms and pout your lip. “I was going to stop!” You weren’t. “I didn’t need your help.” You did. “I can survive very well on my own!” Barely.

“Geez, Trouble…” He chuckles softly. “I might have to keep a permanent eye on you from now on. I was joking about you becoming paperwork on my desk, but it’s becoming frighteningly clear that it’s a very real possibility.”

The light turns green, and you both cross it, reaching the coffee shop where Zoro holds the door open for you. You choose a booth near the window and fidget with the napkin on the table before the waitress comes to take your orders. 

“Are you still thinking about not fitting in?” You grimace. “Stop that. Don’t be an idiot.”

“Geez, Zoro! You really know how to cheer a girl up.” You thank the waitress when she brings your coffee. Zoro shrugs and blows on his. 

“I’m not trying to cheer you up. I’m just stating the truth.” He points at your coffee. “It’s hot, don’t drink it yet.”

Every time he does something to keep you safe, your chest constricts, and your heart pounds harder. He’s not even doing it on purpose, so he must be this careful and protective with everyone. You shouldn’t be feeling special at all. 

Being distracted by your thoughts, you ignore his advice and take a sip, wincing immediately from burning your tongue.

“What did I tell you, Trouble? Will you ever listen to me?”

“Maybe if you stop being mean.” You mumble between your teeth, not believing your words because he’s not being mean. He’s just being Zoro. Straightforward, no-nonsense Zoro. Like he always was. 

Conversation flows easily between the two of you after that. There’s a long moment where you both reminisce about your childhood and the silly things you and your friends did as dumb teenagers. Then you ask Zoro about life as a cop and what the worst dangers he has to face in a small-time town like the one you live in are. After that, he asks you about life in the big city and what you studied, and the smile you had plastered on your face for the last hour suddenly falls as you’re reminded of your ex and how he broke your heart. 

“What’s wrong?” Then it must have dawned on him because he grimaces and adjusts his form in his seat. “Shit, I didn’t mean–”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it. It’s just…” You shake your head. “It was still a four-year relationship. Though anyone could see the end coming, I just didn’t expect to be cheated on.”

You sip the rest of your coffee while Zoro stares at you. “His loss.”

“What?”

“His loss. If he couldn’t see the wonderful person you are, he’s the one who came out of the deal losing.”

You try to read whatever is in Zoro’s eye, but you can’t. He just seems very serious, so you have to assume that he is being serious. 

“We started out pretty strong, in college. But then, when we graduated and he took over a lot of his family’s business - not all of it legal, for sure - he became distant and cold.” Zoro’s brow rises as he listens to what you have to say. “Everywhere we went, he brought bodyguards with him. It became frightening to go out, I was always expecting conflict to arise.”

You set the coffee mug aside and start to fidget with the napkin again. 

“There were nights when, even though we went out together, he had so much to do that I spent more time talking to his bodyguard than to him. It hurt a bit to separate because it wasn’t on amicable terms, but it wasn’t devastating.” 

You shrug, and the napkin flies out of your hands with the gesture. You mumble a curse and bend down to pick it up, not taking into account the corner of the table when you get up, so you bump your head into–...

Zoro’s hand?

“Ouch!” You still rub your head, but when you lift your body, you see Zoro’s outstretched arm with his hand wrapped tightly around the corner of the table, a look of disbelief in his eyes. “Uh… thanks?”

He shakes his head and removes his hand silently. “Trouble magnet… you’re a hazard.” He sighs and finishes his coffee. “I’m sorry for what happened. It sucks.” He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else, but then closes it.

“What were you going to say?”

“I’m being selfish. Forget it.”

“Zoro!” You press. He always says what’s on his mind, so why not now?

“I’m glad he cheated on you, there, I said it.” You blush and narrow your eyes at him, so he explains. “If he hadn’t, you might still be living in the city, and we wouldn’t be sharing memories over coffee right now.” He takes out some berries from his pocket to pay for the coffees and gets up. “Shall we?”

It’s clear he wants to end the conversation, so you nod and get up, both leaving the place in complete silence. It takes you another minute before you gather your voice. “I’m secretly glad too… even though it made me feel useless and unwanted for a while. I’m happy to be back.”

“You’re not useless.” He says as he pushes you aside before you bump into a street pole. “You’re trouble, that’s what you are.” He quips with a smirk, and you can’t help but chuckle back at him. 

The banter continues until you both reach your car, the sun starting to set on the horizon already. You open the car door but linger outside for another minute, Zoro’s company making you feel warm and happy.

Though you can’t shake a weird feeling, a prickling in your neck and  a slight shiver down your spine, since you left the coffee house. 

“See you around, Trouble.”

“Bye, Zoro. Thank you for the wonderful afternoon.” You get inside and close the door, leaving the window rolled down so you can wave at Zoro. He taps the hood of the car twice before shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

“Drive safely, please.” He says with exasperation. 

“I don’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

He groans, and you chuckle. 

“Bye, Zoro!”

“Bye, Troublemaker.”

And as you check the rearview mirror for the dwindling figure of Zoro, you can't stop warmth from spreading in your chest. Today felt light and easy. And you have a certain green-haired friend to thank for that.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

|Chapter 2|

[strangersteddierthings]

"I think we should break up," is what Eddie blurts the moment Steve opens the front door to reveal him.

Steve's first reaction is anger -how dare he?- but he doesn't do anything with that anger. Instead, he takes a deep breath through his nose, crosses his arms, and looks Eddie over.

He's breathing heavily yet his van is parked along the curb. He didn't run here. His hair, while never tame, looks rougher. He is fidgeting but in a nervous way, not his usual too much energy way. His eyes are wide and scared. It's the last bit there that drains Steve's anger.

Something's happened.

He drops his arms and says, "well, you're not dumping me on my porch. Get in here."

This doesn't seem like the response Eddie was expecting. Even though he has been looking at Steve this whole time he still manages to do a double take at him. Steve just shoves the door open a bit wider when he turns and heads back to the kitchen, where the dishes are not washing themselves because he doesn't have a dishwasher.

"I-I'm serious, Steve," Eddie is stammering behind him, which is good. Means he did follow. Steve hears the door shut and the shuffling sound of what he assumes is Eddie trying to pull off his combat boots without untying them, like the animal he is.

"Don't shout at me in my own home! Get in this kitchen," Steve shouts, then smiles and relishes in the offended huff Eddie lets out because Steve is the one shouting. Steve picks up the dish towel he'd deposited on the counter and throws it back over his shoulder, then get back to the dishes. There's just a couple bowls and a pot left, might as well get them done.

The sink is perpendicular to the doorway, so he watches Eddie slink into the small galley kitchen, stopping just inside the doorway to frown at Steve. "I'm breaking up with you and you're just, what, gonna wash dishes?"

"You're not breaking up with me, but yes. Look, one bowl down already. Just two more dishes."

"I- what. Yes, I am!"

"Edifer, you are 24 years old. That's much too old to just show up, yell 'we're over' at someone and run away. We're going to talk about this," he's not sure if it's the nickname, or the scolding parent voice he's put on, but it gets a huff of laughter from Eddie, and he counts it as a win.

"Alright, dad."

Steve grins, "I'll be dad if you be Daddy."

There's some sputtering from Eddie, and Steve gets the final dish done before Eddie says, "you can't just say that when I'm breaking up with you! That's- that's manipulative!"

He shrugs in response. "Seems fair. You're messing with my feelings; I'm messing with your feelings."

Those words freeze Eddie, and Steve can see him processing the words. Did Eddie really not consider that Steve had feelings involved? "I- that's... um."

He takes his time to unplug the sink, rinsing away the left-over bubbles before drying his hands and turning around. Eddie looks less wild and scared, now. More conflicted and uncertain. Which could be a good or bad thing. "Did you think you would just come over, break up with me, and I'd be, like, completely fine with it?"

"No," Eddie is quick to say, "Not completely fine but like, fine enough. It's- we've only been together for a month."

Steve frowns at that. He's not going to take offense to the 'only' added in there, because he's grown a lot over the last four years. He's mature now. "Sure, but beyond that, we've been friends since the world almost ended. I don't understand. I thought we were on the same page, here."

Eddie's fidgety again, in the bad way, pacing up and down the length of the kitchen. "What if this was a mistake?"

"What if it wasn't?"

That stops Eddie in his tracks, whipping around to look at Steve. "What if this goes bad? What if you meet someone else and they can give you everything I can't? What if-"

"Whoa, Eddie!" Steve shoves off the sink and gets to Eddie in two steps. His hands come up, hovering. He wants to touch, comfort, but... well, if he allowed to? "I- where's all this coming from?"

"Dustin and Suzie broke up!"

"What?"

"Dustin and Suzie broke up!! They were the forever couple! Perfect for each other! If they couldn't make it work, how am I supposed to be able to?"

Ah. The root of it. Eddie, afraid he's not good enough. Fuck it. Eddie can shove him off if he doesn't want Steve to touch him. He slides an arm around Eddie's waist, his other hand going up to caress his cheek before cupping it, a move he knows makes Eddie melt like cotton candy on the tongue. "Eddie, baby, we make it work by working on it. Not just giving up."

Eddie does melt into Steve, his own arms wrapping around Steve (probably against Eddie's will). "I- I don't know what I'm doing. I'm gonna fuck this up and you'll hate me, and everything will be ruined."

"Well, that's melodramatic."

Eddie glares at him even as he nuzzles into Steve's palm. "Rude."

"Baby, so long as you just talk to me, we'll be okay. Don't just show up and declare you're gonna break up with me. I think there's some steps we can take before it gets to that."

He watches Eddie swallow thickly before he nods his head. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"So, we okay? You aren't gonna break my heart?"

Eddie whimpers at that, throwing himself forward to shove his face into Steve's neck. Steve settles his hand on the back of Eddie's head, idly scratching it while his other arm tightens its hold. When Eddie speaks, it's muffled and directly into his skin. "No. No breaking hearts."

"Hmm, good," Steve says, content to hold his boyfriend in his kitchen for however long Eddie wants to be held.

He'll call and check in on Dustin a bit later, too.

[writingmeraki]

enemy!rafe cameron hcs !

ft. older!maybank!sibling

★ prng. rafe cameron x older!maybank!sibling, e2l ★ gnr. angst, fluff, unresolved feelings ★ wrngs. cussing, jealousy, alcohol, violence, age gap ( reader is older ), mentions of parental issues ( for the sake of this, jj and reader don't have parents. ) w.c 3.7k ( yeah so um....) | a/n at the end.

older!maybank!sibling who finally graduated and is headed home.

After all the years of hardwork and the distance from home, you're headed back to where it all began for you.

It's been a while. You've changed. A lot. Not just physically but also as a person. When you'd gone out of the town you'd grown up in, you didn't think you'd be able to make it out in the ‘real’ world. Considering how your brother and you basically had to fend for yourselves due to not having your parents, you really didn't know what would happen to you outside.

Outside of your home and if you'd survive. But you still took the leap, four years back, and you can't say you regret it. You were grateful for having John B’s father promise to take care of JJ, and you think leaving him was the hardest part. He understood you though, in fact was the one who supported you the most to get out of the town.

Yet no matter what the little island still seems the only thing unchanged, with its weather to the sand on the beach. The familiar houses, the roads, the sounds, everything was all the same. 

But who changed was your brother and his friends. 

older!maybank!sibling is immediately thrown into a hug the moment JJ spots them.

You couldn't stop the tears and the shock that ran through you once you saw him. He looked…different. In a way as though he matured over the years. His look, his height, his hair, his eyes, everything seemed different. Of course you maintained contact with him in the years, but you never went back for any of the holidays. Due to the fact, you were sure you'd not head back to your college. And your brother knew that, he made sure you didn't feel alone. 

His friends, you remembered all of them, were just as surprised to see you as you were them. They all definitely looked much more mature than when you remember them as the scrawny kids you'd last seen. 

John B, Kiara, Pope, and someone you'd never met before Sarah. Sarah Cameron. You were familiar with her family but not enough as you liked to stay out of places you knew you weren't welcome. And yes, you didn't forget the ‘hierarchies’ that were there.

You still did find them stupid. Though, she was a huge surprise. She didn't seem like the arrogant assholes you remembered how the other side of the island were stereotyped as. 

In fact, it seemed she knew you for years from the way you got along as if you'd also known her the way you knew his other friends. She told you how JJ never once stopped talking about you, how you'd think, what you'd be doing at the moment and all the other stories he has of you. You would endlessly tease to him how much he missed you.

older!maybank!sibling who's crowded at the first bonfire party they ever attend in the years.

You saw many familiar faces, very few new ones. But all in all, the night was mostly just you being caught up on what you'd miss. Which was really, not much. You were told how most days, the Pogues, all they did was their adventures and you were told of what they'd done in the past years.

Some stories made you very concerned, some made you proud while in all, there was a part of you that wished was also there. While they had stories, you had the same to give.

Stories of college party nights, your group of friends you'd managed to make after so much trial and error, which you also did inform them of all, but now you were sure that you found the ones who you'd also likely be attending their weddings. ( Lifelong college friendships >> ).

You promised them that you would make them all meet each other. You also showed the new piercings and tattoos you'd gotten. It was on your bucket list before you left and you finally got it fulfilled. 

Along with you coming back, also came your overprotective older sibling persona, which made you heavily judge JJ for overconsuming so much alcohol. You had to snatch away the glass as he threw himself on you and whined about how he was just very happy to finally see you. You shook your head with a smile as you looked at him fondly, caressing his hair. You replied, “I know, Jaybird, I know.” 

And his eyes lit up from the nickname you gave him since you were a kid, it was something between you two only and only fate knows how much he missed someone (you) calling him that even though he hated it as a kid. 

older!maybank!sibling done for the day and heading to call it a night as the crowd filters out slowly.

You weren't aware of the new people who joined in later, considering you'd gone to take a call from your friend wondering if you'd reached home. The conversation took a while which meant you didn't realize what had happened. 

You gasped when you went back to JJ, seeing the big bruise on his cheek as he sat down with a face of rage and annoyance. “What the fuck?!” You wondered how you didn't even realize what had happened until you heard another voice. Spinning around, you came face to face with him. 

It took you a minute to recognise the guy standing in front of you. 

Rafe Cameron. 

From what you recalled, he was a kid who always stuck to his father. You rarely ever saw him and were surprised to remember him too but you think his very blue eyes made you recall him. He…he definitely had a change. A glow up, but you won't admit it.

His height has grown, making him almost a head taller than you, his face got much sharper, and the scowl on his lips shouldn't look that…attractive. His hair ruffled, strands of it laying perfectly on his forehead like he was some sort of perfect mess. 

And that's when it clicked again, he was Sarah’s brother too. 

Him though. He was just as, maybe even more surprised to see you. It took him a minute and a bit of internal questioning about how someone like you was talking to someone like Maybank. 

Then, he remembered. His older sibling. You were Maybank’s older sibling. 

He was a bit, no actually he was completely baffled by you. He heard around how you'd left, often even used you to spew insults at JJ. But he didn't expect you to look like that. He gulped when he realized he might have been staring for too long before directing his stare at JJ. Right, his initial target. 

Your eyes darted between your brother and back to Rafe. You raised an eyebrow as you saw him holding his hand. Injured hand. And that's when it hit you. 

With a menacing scowl, you spat at him. “You did this?” You pointed at his bruised cheek.  

JJ flinched at your tone, not used to it being so harsh. While Rafe seemed to go speechless as his mouth opened to respond but couldn't due to his tongue feeling weirdly heavy. It was so fucking stupid of him. Normally, he'd have jumped at the chance to mock, but it seemed he couldn't at the moment.

The next thing you knew, before you could even comprehend, you just took a deep breath, your eyes darting back to JJ’s who might have been getting an idea of what you were about to do as his own widened and he shook his head. With a scoff, you turned back to Rafe and stepped closer. 

And before he could even think, he felt his face being whipped to the left sharply. You might not have had the same strength or force in your slap, but you were sure it would leave a mark. You weren't even the violent type, but for your brother, you'd kill anyone who dared to even harm him. 

“Next time, don't even think about hurting him. Because I can do worse, got it…Rafe?” 

Rafe didn't even know how to respond. Everything was so quick, and all he really felt was the sharp sting in his cheek. The way you said his name, the way you fucking remembered who he was. It was too much at once. He didn't even realize he might have just nodded and how he just remained frozen in the spot. It wasn't like he was not used to being hurt, especially when confronting JJ, a little violence was always there, but he was taken aback by you, your entire presence that he couldn't even say something. 

Glaring at him with as much hatred you could, you moved back to your brother and his friends. Annoyed that now your hand stung and you carefully took your brother back to John B’s.  

It was chaos between the rest of his friends. All wondering, how you'd even manage to go unscathed but you just shrugged and scowled that he got what he deserved but probably also deserved much more. Even worse. 

older!maybank!sibling realizing they may have just started something they were never ready for.

After the little incident, it hit Rafe just how humiliated you also made him. His ego, which was his one firm thing in his life, was hurt. And after this thinking, mostly Topper just made him question why he just stood there like an idiot and let some…some pogue slap him like that. Now following this realization, he made sure to worsen his supposed ‘reign’ over the rest of the Pogues. 

Yet. If you were present with them, it was as though you had him in a trance. He couldn't do anything, say, or let alone look at you without feeling…nervous. And this made him even more mad at himself because it wasn't the ‘scared’ nervousness that ran through him, it was more so how there seemed to be a fucking zoo in his entire chest near you. He felt his stomach drop too sometimes. 

Now that you were updated about what exactly Rafe Cameron was upto and continued to do, which was to be a pain in the ass to the Pogues, your impression of him went down the drain.

Not that it was much anyways considering he did harm your baby brother. But now all you felt when you spotted him was pure hatred. 

This resulted in you biting back at him and his words when he decided to have a go at the others. Your words, never ones you knew you could even say, were laced with rage and venom and your eyes shone the same. 

Your medium of communication with him was insults and bickering, but it seemed he seized the physical violence after that day. 

older!maybank!sibling getting to their wits end during one of the ‘regular’ confrontations with Rafe.

It was another party, something you came to knew was a very regular thing now. It was the usual insults spat at each other, until you finally just walked away. You didn't even know why you engaged in the argument. Didn't even understand, why in God's name you continued to maintain these fights when you were someone who was calm. Being a violent teenager was what you left in the past, it wasn't like you. 

Deciding you'd had enough, you went for a drink. There you met, one of the guys, who you became friends with when you came back, Mark.

Mark was pretty sweet, meeting him during one of these parties too a while back, and you'd even exchanged numbers that day, remembering it so clearly due to the fact that Rafe Cameron wasn't even there then. You'd been level headed that day, and spoken to others around and clicked with Mark instantly. 

Mark had gone for some time out of town for his work, but he was back. You even recalled him messaging you how he'd be joining the bonfire tonight. It was surely a delight to see him again. 

He hugged you shortly after you said hi and you were happy to return the gesture. You continued to talk to him as he gave you your drink. Your conversation felt light, not something that would make you want to rip your hair out the way most of your conversations with Rafe went. And you wondered why in God's name were you thinking of him. 

Seeing you so close to a guy he didn't even know, Rafe to say the least, was pissed. Annoyed and pissed.

He scoffed at the way you leaned in closer to him. You had that stupid look on your face where your eyes twinkled and your smile was so bright, it made his heart leap in annoyance. He couldn't stand it. 

Next thing, he knew, he walked up to you both and greeted you sarcastically. Looking at the guy, he noticed that he was taller, which made him feel a slight sense of accomplishment as he stood straight. And Rafe wasn't someone who felt unattractive.

He knew he was hot and he acted like it too. So as he did get a closer look at the guy, he did know he was much better looking.

“Finally, did someone manage to tame you Maybank?” 

Your eyes were already narrowed in suspicion the moment you caught him walking towards you, and you scowled at his words.  You questioned about why he was even bothering you again, when he began to laugh humorlessly at your questioning. 

“Why I'm just concerned, ‘couldn't find guys there who could stand you there so you're targeting the innocent ones here?” 

Before you could even lunge at him, Mark gently held your arm and your gaze shifted back to him. 

Oh this did not go unnoticed by Rafe. It made him even more pissed.

He laughed even more, out of spite, ‘So I was right huh, you are tamed now.” 

You'd had enough.

Pulling away from Mark, you sized up to Rafe and looked him dead in the eye, poking your index finger to his chest.

“Listen to me Rafe. You're a piece of shit who thinks he owns everyone and their lives because you think you're the fucking king of the world or something when in reality, you're a stupid little kid who's projecting his daddy issues onto others. Who the fuck even are you without your last name huh? You're always seeking your daddy’s approval to do shit and think you own the world because of that. Well you're wrong, you're nothing, without your name, without him, you're just a sore fucking loser who doesn't even know an ounce of how life works.” 

It was all your frustration, all the anger and the annoyance caused by him that led up to your explosion. You knew everything about him, and this was when you finally exploded about what you really thought of him. 

But. Instead of him immediately answering you. He stood there frozen. 

You felt the worst fucking dread beginning to build up in your stomach when you saw the emotions in his eyes.  

…Hurt. Sadness. As if it wasn't expected of you to say that. And it wasn't. He knew he got on your nerves but it was so fucking idiotic of him to think you thought of him otherwise. 

And the worst part was….you were right. 

Stepping back, you took a deep breath and scanned his face. It was still the same, no remarks, nothing, now his entire expression went blank too. You shouldn't feel the guilt building up in you as you went over what you said. It was too much, maybe you crossed a line too. 

Without another word, he simply flickered his gaze to the floor and looked back up at you. Nothing, he showed no emotion as he turned around and walked away from you.

older!maybank!sibling wondering how the hell did they end up at a point where now they felt guilty for Rafe Cameron out of all people? 

It took many sleepless nights to make you think over your words. You knew Rafe’s issues with his…father. Sarah had told you so and at that time, a part of you did feel terrible for him. And now you'd ended up using those same issues as insults to his face. This wasn't like you.

You weren't someone, no matter what, who would use these types of things as insults. But you tried justifying your actions with how he'd been treating you the past weeks, how he hit your brother too. It was of no use, you still felt like…you stooped far too low. 

With this too, Rafe stopped. He completely stopped his insults, bickering and petty fights not only with you but the rest of the Pogues. It was as if he'd chosen to just ignore your entire existence whenever you'd accidentally stumbled into him anywhere. 

You felt a bit sick when your brother happily told you how Rafe stopped bothering everyone, even his own sister, because of what you'd done. You obviously told them of what happened but…maybe not the entire truth. You didn't mention what exactly you'd told him. 

You feared they'd all somehow judge you. You hated it. And most importantly, you hated how much you were actively looking for Rafe. 

For what? He stopped bothering you which was what you wanted but…but it was weird. 

Weird how you needed to just…talk to him. Probably…apologize too.

older!maybank!sibling who gets the chance.

It was after weeks, you'd see Rafe again. It had been weeks of peace for sure, but it was weirdly quiet. Sometimes, you get used to all the chaos and crave peace but when you finally have it, you oddly in a fucked up way, miss the chaos. It was stupid. 

You'd been walking alongside the ocean, clearing your mind because the past weeks felt tiring. The sand sunk beneath your steps as you mindlessly walked with your gaze down. When you spotted a figure in the distance, you wondered if it was someone like you who also was seeking comfort from the sea.

You paused when you got closer and realised who it was. 

Rafe.

The one who was the cause of your own haywire. 

It seemed at first he didn't notice you. Which gave you the time to think whether or not this was the moment to finally do what you'd been wanting since a while. 

Going against your better judgment which screamed at you that you got rid of the annoyance in your life and now you were heading right back at him, you moved ahead.

He was startled when he heard soft footsteps and froze when he turned his gaze and saw you.

You the one who'd made him contemplate so much about his life with just some stupid words. You who made him question his feelings because no matter how clear he could hate on others, it seemed he couldn't find it in him to do the same with you. 

‘Hey.’ You began softly, and pointed beside him, ‘Do you uh…mind? 

He didn't even think before he nodded.

After a beat of silence where you let the waves fill in, you spoke up “Look. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said. And I do regret bringing up your…life like that but honestly it is the truth.” 

You can't say you didn't expect the scoff that followed after your words, and it made you realize just how much you…you sorta missed seeing him, his face. Rafe Cameron was an oddity to you and your feelings. 

“How about this? You don't need to accept my apology but truce?” 

He didn't speak up when he processed your words, or didn't care enough to because his gaze darted towards your stuck out hand. 

“I…I really didn't mean it. That's what you should know.” 

He seemed to be in thought for a moment, your guilt filled eyes consuming his mind for the moment and making him gulp at the way they twinkled under the moonlight. You…you really still manage to steal his breath away without ever trying. 

“Fine. But you still need to make up for it.” He made his mind and took your hand in his. Shaking it. His hand engulfed yours fully and you can't say you hated the way it contrasted your coldness. It was warm and like…like it was a perfect fit. 

At his words, you laughed in disbelief, “Me? Make up for it? You were the one who kept pushing me!” 

“Is that giving up I hear? I thought we called a truce, Maybank?” Rolling your eyes, you stood up, feeling already a tad bit better than before. 

“Ugh whatever Cameron, of course you'd only agree to something if you could find a way to get your own benefit.” 

You didn't want to admit it but there was definitely less venom to your tone, in fact it seemed you were now…joking with him. 

He stood up, running his hand over his hair and shook his head, and it was the first in a while you saw his lips turn up, the small gesture making you freeze, and you hoped he didn't notice.

“You know me so well.” 

His words shouldn't have affected you the way they did, but you gulped as he stared right into your eyes when he did say them. It was intense. A lot, all at once.

And so you looked away, pretending to roll your eyes as you calmed your heartbeat. Shaking your head, you turned around when his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“What no goodbye, new friend?” 

You turned your head towards him, in more disbelief at the word, and blinked at him. It was like he enjoyed baffling you because he chuckled like the idiot he was, “Well I'll say it then, Night Maybank, looking forward to being friends then.” 

With that he turned around and went the opposite way as you continued to stare at where he had been standing. Rafe Cameron just joked around with you…like a normal human being…? 

Maybe you did end up passing out of something and this was all a weird ass dream. Pinching yourself, you felt the pain and winced, realizing this was the actual reality. 

Well then, you guess you should look forward to how exactly you were now going to deal with your new friend. And the weird flutters that never seemed to seize as you recalled the way his genuine laugh seemed to sleep right into your bones and make you melt. 

You were fucked. 

a/n : something new, enjoy. ( new format 🙏) lowkey made this cause i dont have time to write a fic rn :"))) also yes no parents bcoz it would be more...heavy if I included that so just enjoy the beef b/w reader and rafe :D also yes i ended it there bcoz i will see if this is liked by the audience ( you ) and decide to invest more time to write this duo....i do have some ideas planned but do let me know what you think!!! sibling bcoz i write gn mostly if you're new here :D

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌 ! links : main navi ! | obx masterlist | info !