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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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Zuck’s gravity-defying metaverse money-pit

Tomorrow (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

Think of everything that makes you miserable as being caught between two opposing, irresistible, irrefutable truths:

"Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops" (Stein's Law)

"Markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent" (Keynes)

Both of these are true, even though they seemingly contradict one another, and no one embodies that contradiction more perfectly than Mark Zuckerberg.

Take the metaverse.

Zuck's "pivot" to a virtual world he ripped off from a quarter-century old cyberpunk novel (reminder: cyberpunk is a warning, not a suggestion) was born of desperation.

Zuck fancies himself an avatar of the Emperor Augustus (that's why he has that haircut) (no, really). The emperors of antiquity are infamous for getting all weepy when they run out of lands to conquer.

But the lachrymosity of emperors has little causal relationship to the anxieties of tech monopolists! Alexander weeps because he just loves a good conquest and when he finishes conquering the world, he's terminally bored. That's not Zuck's problem at all. When Zuck attains monopoly status, his company develops an autoimmune disorder, as his vicious princelings run out of enemies to destroy and begin to knife one another.

Any monopoly faces these destructive microincentives, but tech is exceptional here because tech has the realtime flexibility and speed that brick-and-mortar businesses can never match:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Sociopaths with tech monopolies are worse for the same reason that road-rage would be worse in a flying car: adding new capacity to indiscriminate self-destructive urges turns ordinary car crashes into low-level airburst warfare:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

The flexibility of digital gives tech platforms so much latitude to break things in tiny increments. A tech platform is like a Jenga tower composed of infinitely divisible blocks. The Jenga players are the product managers and executives who have run out of the ability to grow by attracting new business thanks to their monopoly dominance. Now they compete with one another to increase the yield from their respective divisions by visiting pain upon the business customers and end users their platform connects. By tiny increments, they increase the product's cost, lower its reliability, and strip it of its utility and then charge rent to restore its functionality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/24/cursed-bigness/#incentives-matter

This is the terminal stage of enshittification, the unstoppable autocannibalism of platforms as they seek to harvest all the value created by business customers and end users, leaving the absolute minimum of residual value needed to keep both stuck to the platform. This is a brittle equilibrium, because the difference between "I hate this service but I just can't stop using it," and "Get me the fuck out of here" is razor-thin.

All it takes is one tiny push – a whistleblower, a livestreamed mass-shooting, a Cambridge Analytica – and people bolt for the doors. This triggers the final stage: the "pivot," which is a tech euphemism for "panic."

For Zuck, the pivot got real after a disappointing earnings call triggered a mass sell-off of Facebook stock, history's worst one-day value incineration, which lopped a quarter of a trillion dollars off the company's market cap:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2022-12-19/dramatic-stock-moves-of-2022-led-by-meta-dive-nordic-flash-crash

This was when the metaverse became the company's top priority.

Now, in my theory of enshittification, the step that follows the pivot is death: "Finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Many people have asked me about the conspicuous non-death of Facebook! That's where I have to fall back on Stein's Law: "Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Facebook can't continue to annihilate value, alienate its workers, harm the public, hemorrhage money in support of a mediocrity's cherished folly forever. Can it?

Admittedly, it sure seems like it can. Facebook's metaverse pivot has thus far cost the company $46,500,000,000. That is: $46.5 billion. That's even more money than Uber torched, seeking to maintain the illusion that they will be able to create monopolies on both transport and the labor market for driving and recoup the billions the Saudi royal family let them use for the con:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Don't worry: the Saudi royals are fine! They cashed out at the IPO, collecting a tidy profit at the expense of retail investors who assumed that a pile of shit as big as Uber must have a pony under it, somewhere:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber has doubled the cost of rides and halved drivers' wages, using illegal gimmicks like "algorithmic wage discrimination" to squeeze a little more juice out of the nearly exhausted husks of its workforce:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But Stein's Law hasn't been repealed. Drivers can't drive for sub-subsistence wages. Do that long enough and they'll literally starve: that's what "subsistence" means. We lost a decade of transit investment thanks to the Uber con, at the same time as traditional taxi drivers were forced out of the industry. Uber can't be profitable and still pay a living wage, and the fantasy of self-driving cars as a means of zeroing out the wage-bill altogether remains stubbornly, lethally unworkable:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Which means we're at the point where you can get off a commuter train at a main station and find yourself stranded: no taxis at the taxi-queue, no busses due for an hour, and no Uber cars available unless you're willing to pay $95 for a ten-minute ride in a luxury SUV (why yes, this did happen to me recently, thanks for asking).

As more and more of us are exposed to these micro-crises, the political will to do something will increase. This can't go on forever. "Don't use commuter rail" isn't a viable option. "Walk three miles each way to the commuter rail station" isn't viable either. Neither is "Pay $95 for an Uber to get to the station." Something's gotta give…eventually.

"Eventually" is the key word here. Remember the corollary of Stein's Law: Keynes's maxim that "markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent." Sure, anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, but that is no guarantee of a soft landing. You can't smoke two packs a day forever – but in the absence of smoking cessation, the eventual terminus of that habit is stage-four lung cancer. Keep hammering butts into your face and your last smoke will come out a crematorium chimney.

Zuckerberg hasn't merely blown a whole-ass Twitter on the metaverse with nothing to show for it – he's gotten richer while doing it! In the past year, his net worth increased by 130%, to $59 billion, thanks to an increase in Facebook's share-price, driven by investors who stubbornly remain irrational, keeping the Boy Emperor solvent long past any reasonable assessment of his performance.

What are these investors betting on? One possibility is that the rise and rise of Facebook's share-price represents a bet on technofeudalism. Since the Communist Manifesto, Marxists have been predicting the end of capitalism. That end seems to have come, but what followed capitalism wasn't socialism, it was the return of feudalism, an economic system where elites derive their wealth from rents, not profits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Profit is the income you get from investing in capital – machinery, systems, plant – and then harvesting the surplus value created by workers who mobilize this capital. Capitalism produces massive returns for its winners – in the Manifesto's first chapter, Marx and Engels just geek out about how productive and dynamic this system is.

But capitalism is also a Red Queen's Race, where the winners have to run faster and faster to stay in the same place. Capitalism drives competition, as other would-be winners pile into the sector, replicating the systems that the current winners are using and then improving on them. This is why the prophets of capitalist end-times like the FBI informant Peter Thiel say that "competition is for losers."

Capitalism's "profits" stand in contrast to the feudalist's "rents." Rents are income you get from owning something that other people need to produce things. The capitalist owns the coffee-shop, but the feudalist owns the building. When a rival capitalist opens a superior coffee-shop and drives the old shop out of business, the capitalist loses, but the rentier wins. Now they can rent out an empty storefront in the neighborhood everyone's coming to because of that hot new cafe.

Feudal and manorial lords also made their fortunes by extracting surplus value from workers, but these rentiers don't care about owning the means of production. The peasant in the field pays for their own agricultural equipment and livestock – control over the means of production is necessary for worker liberation, but it's not sufficient. The worker's co-op that owns its factory can still find the value it produces bled off by the landlord who owns the land the factory sits on.

The jury's still out on whether American workers really see themselves as "temporarily embarrassed millionaires," but America's capitalists have a palpable, undeniable loathing for capitalism. The dream of an American "entrepreneur" is *PassiveIncome: money you get from owning something capitalists and/or workers use to create value. Digital technology creates exciting new possibilities for rent-extraction: a taxi-operator had to buy and maintain a car that someone else drove. Uber can offload this hassle onto its drivers and rent out access to the chokepoint it created between drivers and riders, charging all the traffic can bear. This is feudalism in the cloud – or as Yannis Varoufakis calls it, cloudalism.

In Varoufakis's Technofeudalism, he describes Amazon as a feudal venture. From a distance, Amazon seems like a bustling marketplace of manic capitalism, with sellers avidly competing to offer more variety and lower costs in a million independently operated storefronts. But closer inspection reveals that Amazon is a planned economy, not a market.

Every one of those storefronts pays rent to the same landlord – Amazon – which determines which goods can be offered for sale. Amazon sets pricing for those goods, and extracts 45-51% of every dollar those sellers make. Amazon even controls which goods are shelved at eye-height when you enter the store, and which ones are banished to a dusty storeroom in a distant sub-basement you'll never find:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

Zuck's metaverse is pure-play technofeudalism, Amazon taken to the logical extreme. It's easy to get distracted by the part of Zuck's vision that will convert us all into legless, sexless, heavily surveilled low-resolution cartoon characters. But the real action isn't this digitization of our fleshy wants and needs. Zuck didn't spend $46.5B to torment us.

The cruelty isn't the point of the metaverse.

The point of the metaverse is to rent us out to capitalists.

Zuck doesn't know why we would use the metaverse, but he believes that if he can convince capitalists that we all want to live there, that they'll invest the capital to figure out how to serve us there, and then he can extract rent from those capitalists and start earning "passive income." It's an Uber for Cyberpunk Dystopias play.

Zuck's done this before. Remember the "pivot to video?" Zuckerberg wanted to compete with Youtube, but he didn't want to invest in paying for video production. Videos are really expensive to produce and the median video gets zero views. So Zuck used his captive audience to trick publishers into financing his move into video. He fraudulently told publishers that videos were blowing up on Facebook, outperforming boring old text by vast margins.

Publishers borrowed billions and raised billions more in the capital markets, financing the total conversion of newsrooms from text to video and precipitating a mass extinction event for print journalists. Zuck kept the con alive by giving away (fewer) billions to some of those publishers, falsely claiming that their videos were generating fortunes in advertising revenue. These lucky, credulous publishers became judas goats for their industry, luring others into the con, the same way that the "lucky" guy a carny lets win a giant teddy-bear at the start of the day lures others into putting down $5 to see if they can sink three balls in a rigged peach-basket.

But when we stubbornly refused to watch videos on Facebook, Zuck stopped spreading around these convincer payouts, and precipitated a second mass-extinction event in news media, as the new generation of video journalists joined their predecessors in Facebook-driven unemployment. Given this history, it's surreal to see publishers continue to insist that Facebook is stealing their content, when it is so clearly stealing their money:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

Metaverse is the new Pivot to Video. Zuckerberg is building a new world, which he will own, and he wants rent it to capitalists, who will compete with one another in just the way that Amazon's sellers compete. No matter who wins that competition, Zuckerberg will win. The prize for winning will be a rent increase, as Zuckerberg leverages the fact that your "successful" business relies on Facebook's metaverse to drain off all the value your workers have produced:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/18/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video/

This can't last forever, but how long until Zuck's reality distortion field runs out of battery? That's the $46.5B question.

The market can certainly remain irrational for a hell of a long time. But the market isn't the only force that regulates corporate outcomes. Regulators also regulate. Europe's GDPR is now seven years old, and it plainly outlaws Facebook's surveillance.

For nearly a decade, Facebook has pretended that this wasn't true, and they got away with it. Mostly, that's thanks to the fact that Ireland is a corporate crime-haven with a worse-than-useless Data Protection Commission:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

But anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. Facebook has finally been dragged into EU federal jurisdiction, where it will face exterminatory fines if it continues to spy on Europeans:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/07/luck-of-the-irish/#schrems-revenge

In response, Facebook has rolled out a subscription version of its main service and its anticompetitive acquisition, Instagram:

https://about.fb.com/news/2023/10/facebook-and-instagram-to-offer-subscription-for-no-ads-in-europe/

For €10/month, Facebook will give you an ad-free experience across its service offerings (it's €13/month if you pay through an app, as Facebook recoups the 30% #AdTax rents that the feudal Google/Apple mobile duopoly extracts).

But this doesn't come close to satisfying Facebook's legal obligations under the GDPR. The GDPR doesn't ban ads, it bans spying. Facebook spies on every single internet user, all the time. The apps we use are built with "free" Facebook toolkits that extract rent from the capitalists who make them by harvesting our data as we use their apps. The web-pages we visit have embedded Facebook libraries that do the same thing for web publishers. Facebook buys our data from brokers. Facebook has so many ways of spying on us that there's almost certainly no way for Facebook to stop spying on you, without radically transforming it operation.

To comply with the GDPR, Facebook must halt surveillance advertising altogether. There's no way to square "spying on users" with "you can't surveil without explicit consent, and you can't punish people for refusing."

And of course, "not spying" isn't the same as "not advertising." "Contextual advertising" – where ads are placed based on the thing you're looking at, not who you are and what you do – is hundreds of years old. Context ads underperform surveillance ads by a slim margin – about 5% – but they're vastly more profitable for publishers. That's because surveillance ads are feudal, controlled by rentiers like Facebook, who own vast troves of the surveillance data needed to run these ads. Traditional ad intermediaries (agencies, brokers) took 10-15% out of the total advertising market. Ad-tech companies – the Google/Facebook duopoly – take 51% out of every ad dollar spent.

Eliminate surveillance ads and you torch their feudal estates. Facebook will always know more about someone reading a news article than the publisher – but the publisher will always know more about the article than Facebook does:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

There are rents under capitalism, just as there are profits under feudalism. The defining characteristic of a system is what happens when rents and profits come into conflict. If profits win – for example, if productive companies beat patent trolls, or if news publishers escape Facebook's rent-extraction – then the system is capitalist. If rents win – if investors continue to bet large on the metaverse as its losses pass $50 billion and head for the $100 billion mark – then the system is feudal.

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. The question isn't whether the platforms will eventually become so enshittified that they die – the question is whether they will go down in an all-consuming fireball, or whether they'll go down in a controlled demolition that lets us evacuate the people they've trapped inside them first:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/09/let-the-platforms-burn/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/30/markets-remaining-irrational/#steins-law

Image: Diego Delso (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Puente_de_las_cataratas_Victoria,_Zambia-Zimbabue,_2018-07-27,_DD_10.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

#pluralistic #mark zuckerberg #meta #enshittification #facebook #twitter #elon musk #billionaires #follies #failing up #metaverse #steins law #big tech #technofeudalism

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sinsirellaxx · 7 months ago

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Can you do a toxic! Slyhterin boys where they found out y/n is actually pregnant? Cause let’s be honest, they wouldn’t be happy and sweet about getting their girlfriend pregnant

Slytherin Boys – Reacting to you getting pregnant

Warning: Toxic boys, mentions and talks of abortion, toxic relationships etc., not proofread (cause I'm lazy)

A/N: Thank you for the request! I totally agree with the idea that they wouldn't be happy at all!

Hope you'll like it!

Mattheo …

… glares down at your trembling hand holding the offending pregnancy test, his nose pulled up in disgust.

… suddenly views you as this stupid person that is unable to use birth control. If you aren’t on birth control and only use condoms, he’d still think you were the cause for this mess. Did you poke holes into the condoms? Did you want to get pregnant and trap him?

… would be so turned off by the idea of having a child at that age, that he’d project all that frustration and negativity on you – he’d start detesting you. Gone is the obsession he had felt for you and replaced by pure annoyance.

… stared at you coldly as he told you he didn’t want to see you anymore – that he didn’t want to be involved with anything regarding the child – his child.

Theodore …

… stares at his phone dumbly – his mind completely blank as he assessed the situation. Well, fuck.

… immediately blocks you – a poor attempt to push you and his new problem out of his life.

… desperately hopes you don’t try to confront him – he’s an asshole but he doesn’t want to be cruel to your face, duh. But obviously, you did confront him.

… rolls his eyes when you start crying in front of him, obviously scared and overwhelmed by the situation and his apathy.

… rudely interrupts you and tells you to fuck off – that he cannot have a child yet. If you refuse to just leave, he’ll obliviate himself out of your life. Problem solved, right?

Lorenzo …

… would get angry. Not at himself – no, he’d be mad at you. How could you destroy such a beautiful relationship?

… is desperate – he loves you but the thought of having a child make his balls shrink.

… would force you to make a choice: Him or the child. If you want to keep the child, he’ll break up with you – which further angers him, because he still wants you but if you decide to terminate he’d be back to being his usual loving and obsessed self.

Draco …

… enters panic mode. He knows his parents and he knows the chaos that would ensue of they found out, so he begged you to terminate. If you refuse to, he’ll try to gaslight and manipulate you into doing it.

… will hold a grudge if you do not terminate and his parents find out, which would result in you two having to get married.

… would be kind of put off by the thought of you carrying and growing a child and distance himself from you.

… would definitely cheat to satiate his desires and needs because his feelings for you were clouded by hatred.

Blaise …

… laughs in your face when you tell him. He thinks it is a joke. When he takes in the state you are in it quickly dawns on him that you aren’t joking after all.

… groans loudly as a string of profanities leaves his lips – why did everything have to be so complicated?

… suddenly accuses you of cheating on him because no way in hell could he have gotten you pregnant. He’d try to talk his way out of it – spewing lies about his fertility and turning the situation in a way that makes him look like the victim.

… tells you to leave and accuses you of being a filthy cheater.

Tom …

… will demand, no, force you to terminate – because he would not allow any mistakes. He doesn’t want to be a father – especially not out of wedlock.

… doesn’t give you a choice – because you can’t be trusted. He’ll help you through the procedure and ensures that you actually go through with it.

… he’ll not break up with you though but will put you on birth control and watch you take the pills every. Single. Day.

… does not show any remorse or empathy, because he simply cannot understand why you’d be this devastated. If he has to, he’ll obliviate you and make you forget about the whole incident.

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diqldrunks · 8 months ago

Text

DATE ME TO SCARE THEM — R. CAMERON

summary: rafe cameron didn't do girlfriends, or make deals — so why did he agree so quickly to being your fake boyfriend — for the sole purpose of pissing off your parents? (based off the song 18 by anarbor)

a/n: this is very different from the original which got lost when my acc got terminated

cw/tw: none! this is really short but other parts will be much longer!! asks for rafe (in this au and others) are open!! anons are welcome!

word count: 0.8k

DMTST — PART ONE

next part | nav | inbox

rafe masterlist | main masterlist

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

you and rafe had been sitting on the beach when you asked him.

it was late summer, and the sun was slowly setting. the two of you had spent the entire day together, and the entire time, rafe couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done something to upset you.

you had barely said 5 words to him that hadn’t been prompted by a question he asked you; there was an air of awkwardness surrounding the two of you and any interaction you had, and rafe hated it.

he spent ages going over anything and everything he had said, trying to figure it out. he'd eventually decided he'd had enough, and when you were reapplying your lip gloss, he decided to speak up.

"sweets," he asked, using the nickname he began using years ago after he realised the extent of your sweet tooth, "everything good with you? anything going wrong in your little world that i can help out with?"

the two of you had met two years ago, when your parents had dragged you to an overly formal dinner at the country club after you had moved — you were sat across from him and one of his sisters, sarah. together, the three of you tried to tune out the insufferably dull conversations that were happening — with one of ways being rafe and sarah explaining kildare to you, introducing the concept of ‘pogues’ and ‘kooks’ (with sarah later introducing you to some of her kook friends without rafe’s knowledge).

after a couple of these dinners, the three of you became friends — with it soon becoming commonplace for you to spend days and nights at the cameron’s’. you spent mornings in town shopping, afternoons on the boat and evenings at parties. though you met other people your age — both kooks and pogues — and became friendly with them, rafe and sarah were always the ones you were closest to.

over time, sarah became more distant, and your afternoons on the beach as a trio became just you and rafe. your parents weren’t that happy, having voiced their dislike for the boy, but as they worked away for business a lot, they didn’t have a chance to stop it. this month, they were away again, in chicago this time for a series of conferences, but were coming back in a few days.

they had phoned you a few weeks ago, and were clearly excited to be talking to you — one of their business executive friends had a son, and, although they didn’t say it explicitly, they expected you to go on a few dates with him. his name was matthew, and he was coming to outer banks with his father a few days after your parents return.

you were anxious and angry, and for days had been racking your brain for a solution — one that you could make last as long as you matthew went back home. you had eventually came up with a plan — it was risky, and frankly just a terrible idea, but it should work. you just had to get rafe on board.

you looked to rafe, his hair almost glowing gold from the sunlight.

"i need you to be my boyfriend."

the brunette paused, one of his hands frozen in place as it hovered over the cooler from where he was about to grab a second beer.

he was silent for a moment, his eyebrows slightly raised so the ends of his hair began to cover them.

"i'm sorry sweets, i need to what?"

this time your voice was louder than before, but still quiet enough that rafe had to try and block out the sound of the crashing waves to hear you clearly. "i need you to date me for the next two weeks — three at a push."

you take a quick look at rafe before turning you attention back to the hands in your lap as you continue to talk. "it's my parents — they're coming to visit for a few weeks and the last time i spoke to them, they were trying to set me up with one of their business friend’s sons — a guy called matthew-"

rafe ran a hand through his hair. "god sweets, do i really have to get dragged into this? your parents despise me-"

"that’s why this is so perfect rafe. they are setting me up for misery — let’s be real, matthew’s going to be as dull as a rock. i want to throw this stupid idea back in their faces — make sure they won’t do this again."

"you’re gonna use me to piss off your parents, sweets?" rafe smirked, remembering just how much you're parents hated him. "fake date me just so you can scare them?” rafe pauses, pretending to think. god, he was insufferable. “i don't know, seems like an awfully one sided deal..."

you needed rafe to agree, otherwise you risk sitting opposite full matthew at the country club for dinner. "rafe cameron i will literally do anything for you to agree."

rafe smirked. "if you say so sweets."

rafe taglist (lmk if you want to be added!); @izabellaemerson @spiderflunk @kitty-m30w @vincapandora @uraesthete @wickedtactics @harmoneeee24 @starkeybae @fairydvstss @alexiskirkland @devils-blackrose @makaylalovessmut @winterrrnight @clearbolts @slayystuff @neilove @littlemissborntolose @emyslittlebubble @ldrsog @stargrltara @isabelllauer @alexasznisforever @zizuras @sadgirlelenora @djosfuture @leaskisses444

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thisapplepielife · 5 months ago

Text

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days.

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore.

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy.

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him.

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club.

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough.

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring.

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club.

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away.

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

#steddieweek2024 #day seven #free space #wrong number trope #meet cute #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddieweek #steddie #thisapplepielife: steddieweek #thisapplepielife: short fic

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jaeyunluvbot · 2 days ago

Text

this love

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 exes to lovers, joshua x reader, also partially mingyu x reader

word count 𝟅𝟈 10.1k

part one

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Joshua stepped off the plane, the cool air of New York sweeping over him as he entered the terminal. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about the bustling energy of this city felt like it was pressing in on him, in a way that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here, but this time felt different. There was a strange weight to the air as though the city itself was carrying something he wasn’t prepared for.

The hum of conversation, the footsteps of hurried travelers, the flashing billboards just outside the windows—it all felt so vibrant, so full of life. And yet, beneath the excitement and the rush, there was a quietness to his heart, a tug in the back of his mind.

This city reminded him of you.

He shifted the strap of his suitcase, moving through the crowd. Bright lights, hurried people, and the constant motion—the life of New York was contagious. But it wasn’t just the city’s pulse that caught him off guard. It was the way everything about it seemed to echo the parts of you he had loved so much.

You had always been like the city to him—full of energy, always moving, always chasing the next thing. Your smile, the way you carried yourself in a room, the way you could command attention without even trying. That’s what you had been to him, a force of nature that made everything feel brighter.

And now, just stepping into this city, he could almost hear your laugh again, see the way you’d look at him with that mischievous smile, eyes lighting up like you were always in on some secret. He could almost feel your presence in the air around him, but it was a presence that hurt now, a sharp reminder of what they had lost.

Joshua let out a slow breath, trying to ground himself. “You’re not here for her, Joshua. Don’t go looking for her.”

It was pointless, he knew. You had your life, and he had his. There was no going back, not after everything. You were in New York now, though, living in the same city he was. He didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to dwell on the possibility that they might cross paths again. The city was huge, the chances of seeing you again were slim to none.

Still, it seemed like fate had a way of pulling the two of you back together, no matter how far apart you’d tried to stay.

He pushed through the terminal, his thoughts spinning as he made his way to the taxi stand. The whole business trip had been planned months ago, and it had seemed so clear-cut then—a professional trip to oversee the opening of a new office, a straightforward task. But now, with New York sprawling before him, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the past bearing down on him.

He stepped into the cab, the engine rumbling to life, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the noise of the city. New York had always been a dream of yours, hadn’t it? The energy, the endless opportunities. And even though their paths had diverged, it was impossible to forget that part of hyourer dream was still alive in this city.

But the cab was moving now, the streets of New York unfolding before him, and with each turn, each new block, Joshua felt something tug at his chest. A sense of familiarity, a longing he couldn’t fully explain. The city might be full of strangers, full of business and distractions, but he couldn’t help but wonder: could it ever really feel like home again?

He let out a long sigh and glanced out the window, forcing himself to focus on the purpose of the trip. But the more he tried to push the thoughts of you away, the more they seemed to take hold.

And this time, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what might come next.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Joshua had spent the last few days wandering the streets of New York, letting the city become his guide. He walked for hours, sometimes aimlessly, sometimes with a purpose, just to get a feel for the pulse of this place. He’d taken a few cabs, gotten lost a couple of times, and explored neighborhoods where the air smelled different from what he was used to. It was all part of the process of settling in, of finding his way in a city that, despite being filled with people, felt strangely isolating.

He hadn’t gone near your neighborhood, not yet. He had promised himself he wouldn’t. Too many memories tied to that area, too many things that still felt fresh and raw. And he assumed you still lived with your parents, living your life, doing what you always had. There was no reason to go looking for a ghost of the past when he had his own life to rebuild.

But even as he tried to avoid the places that had once been familiar, he couldn’t help but feel that pull. It was New York, after all. A city of millions, yet somehow, it always seemed to bring people together, whether they were ready for it or not.

It was on a lazy afternoon when he wandered into a department store, aimlessly browsing through a few racks of clothes, that he saw you.

He didn’t notice you at first—just a flash of movement in the aisle. Then, his eyes caught sight of the way you laughed, the way you tilted your head back as you chatted with your friends. That laugh. It was unmistakable, like a sound from another life that had been buried deep in his memory. But it was real. It was here, right in front of him.

Joshua froze.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to blur. The lights, the busy customers, the gentle hum of conversation—it all faded as he focused on you.

You looked so different. Yet so much the same. Your hair, now a bit longer than it used to be, caught the light as you moved through the store. Your smile was still bright, infectious, that same twinkle in your eye he used to adore. But there was something else—something he couldn’t quite place. You were glowing, like you had grown into yourself in a way he never imagined.

Time had done something to you, something he hadn’t expected. You were still the girl he once knew, but you’d grown, matured in a way that took him by surprise. You had become someone else, someone so much more than he remembered. It was as if the city had worked its magic on you too—turning you into something even more radiant than before.

His breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, he didn’t know whether to move closer or to turn and leave. But before he could make up his mind, you laughed again, your voice cutting through the air, and his heart seemed to skip a beat.

God, how long has it been?

Two years.

He hadn’t expected to feel this way—hadn’t expected to feel like the time between them had been nothing but a blink. But here you were, standing in front of him, and for a moment, he wondered if the world around him had shifted in a way he couldn’t understand.

You still hadn’t noticed him. You were too busy with your friends, your back to him as you flipped through some clothes on a nearby rack.

Joshua’s gaze lingered on you for just a little too long, and then, as if his body was on autopilot, he took a step backward, moving quietly toward an aisle to the side. He wasn’t sure if you’d even seen him, but in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this, not after everything that had happened.

As he walked away, his mind raced. You were still here, living your life in a way he couldn’t quite grasp. You had moved on, just as he’d tried to. But seeing you now, in the light of the city, so full of life—it made everything feel as if it hadn’t changed.The city, the memories—it was all there, wrapped up in the image of you standing in that store, looking so different and yet still so you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The first few months in New York had been tough. Moving back in with your parents at twenty-six hadn’t exactly been the picture of independence you'd envisioned for yourself. After leaving California—leaving him—you’d felt like a shell of yourself. Work had been the only thing keeping you afloat, a routine you clung to like a lifeline. Wake up. Go to the office. Come home. Repeat.

But even the most rigid routines couldn’t keep the ache at bay. The nights were the hardest—quiet and heavy, full of thoughts you’d tried so desperately to avoid. You’d wonder where he was, what he was doing, if he ever thought about you. Those first few weeks, it felt like every corner of your mind was occupied by him, by the love you had lost, by the life you’d imagined that had unraveled in an instant.

Then, your friends had found out you were back. Friends who had known you since you were young, who remembered the girl you were before Joshua, before California. They refused to let you wallow.

They dragged you out of your parents’ house, insisted you join them for brunches, walks in the park, late-night karaoke sessions that left you laughing so hard your sides hurt. Slowly, they helped you piece yourself back together.

You started to remember who you were.

Now, two years later, you hardly recognized the girl who’d come back to New York feeling broken and lost. Your job as a PR agent was amazing, the kind of position you’d dreamed of when you first started college. The cushy salary afforded you a beautiful one-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side, decorated with warm, neutral tones and little pops of color that reflected your personality.

You’d finally found stability. Confidence.

You’d grown up in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You understood now that Joshua hadn’t left because you weren’t enough or because you’d done something wrong. He simply hadn’t been ready. And that was okay.

That realization had been a turning point for you. Letting go of the bitterness, the insecurity—it had freed you to focus on what really mattered: taking care of yourself.

It didn’t mean you didn’t miss him, though. There were still moments—quiet, fleeting—when something would remind you of him. A song you’d danced to together. The scent of his cologne on someone walking by. A fleeting image in your mind of his warm smile, the way his voice softened when he said your name.

But now, those memories didn’t hurt quite as much. They were a part of you, yes, but they no longer defined you.

Standing in your apartment one evening, you looked out at the city lights, the skyline glimmering like a promise in the distance. This city had seen you at your worst, but it had also witnessed your transformation.

You were happy here.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Vernon had been the first friend to find out you had moved back to the city. Your parents, worried about you, had called him after you’d locked yourself in your room for an entire weekend.

“I heard you were back,” he’d said casually, as though two years of silence between you hadn’t passed. “We’re getting bagels tomorrow. No excuses.”

You’d tried to decline, mumbling something about needing to rest or having work, but Vernon had simply said, “Eight a.m. Don’t be late,” and hung up.

That was Vernon for you—low-key, no-nonsense, and always there when you needed him, even if you didn’t realize it yourself.

That breakfast had turned into weekly meet-ups, then spontaneous hangouts, and eventually, him reintroducing you to the rest of your childhood friends. He never pushed, never asked you about Joshua unless you brought it up first. Instead, he let you heal at your own pace, offering the kind of quiet, steady support that only Vernon could.

“Look at you,” he said now, leaning back in his chair as you both sat at a small café near your apartment. “Living your best life. I’m so proud.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I wouldn’t say I’m living my best life.”

“You’ve got a great job, your own place, and you’re killing it out here. Don’t undersell yourself,” he said, raising his iced coffee in a mock toast. “To the comeback queen.”

You laughed, clinking your glass against his. Vernon had a way of making everything feel lighter, easier. He’d been your rock when you didn’t even know you needed one, and for that, you were endlessly grateful.

“You know,” he said after a pause, a teasing glint in his eye, “you might actually be ready to start dating again. Or is the thought of Tinder still too terrifying?”

You groaned, throwing a sugar packet at him. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, dodging the packet with a grin. “The Y/N I see now? She’s ready for whatever’s next.”

His words lingered with you long after you parted ways.

Whatever’s next.

You hadn’t let yourself think about that much—not about love, at least. You’d been so focused on getting your footing, on becoming the version of yourself you were proud of. But now, as you walked back to your apartment under the glow of the city lights, you wondered.

Maybe Vernon was right. Maybe you were ready.

You just didn’t know that "next" was closer than you thought.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Vernon had been annoyingly smug when you finally agreed to go on a blind date with one of his friends he’d been raving about ever since you got bacl.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, earning an exasperated eye roll from you.

Now, sitting across from Mingyu in the softly lit restaurant, you begrudgingly admitted Vernon might have been right.

Mingyu was handsome in that effortless way that made you feel a little self-conscious but also oddly flattered. Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a crisp button-down, he radiated confidence without crossing into arrogance. And his smile—warm, easy, and ever-present—had you forgetting about the nerves that had crept in when you first arrived.

“So,” Mingyu said, leaning forward slightly, his elbow resting on the table. “Be honest. Did Vernon have to bribe you to agree to this?”

You laughed, swirling the wine in your glass. “No bribe, but I did consider faking a work emergency.”

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Fair enough. I almost bailed too. Blind dates are…a gamble.”

“A gamble?” you teased. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent dinner companion.”

“Clearly,” he said with a playful grin. “But I think I’ve won the jackpot tonight.”

His compliment caught you off guard, and you felt a warmth creep up your neck. It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he said them, with an ease and sincerity that made you believe him.

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. Mingyu had an endless supply of stories from his time as a chef, from disastrous kitchen mishaps to the joy of creating dishes that made people happy. He was funny, intelligent, and attentive in a way that felt refreshing.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about the past. You weren’t analyzing every little thing, wondering what might go wrong. You were just here, sharing a meal with someone who made you laugh until your cheeks hurt.

As the waiter cleared the plates, Mingyu leaned back in his chair, studying you with a curious expression.

“You know,” he said, “I don’t know what I was expecting when Vernon said he had the perfect person for me, but I think I underestimated him.”

“Oh?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “What did he say about me?”

He smirked, taking a sip of his wine. “That you were smart, driven, and a little intimidating—but also one of the kindest people he knows. I think he was underselling you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, but you pushed it down, keeping your tone light. “Vernon does tend to exaggerate.”

“Not this time,” Mingyu said softly, his gaze steady on yours.

And just like that, you realized something. You weren’t thinking about Joshua. Not his laugh, not his smile, not the way he used to make you feel.

You were here, in this moment, and for the first time in years, you let yourself believe that you deserved this.

Deserved to be happy.

Deserved to move on.

As Mingyu flagged down the waiter for the check, you found yourself smiling, a quiet contentment settling over you. Maybe Vernon was right. Maybe this was exactly what you needed.

And yet, although you'd let the past go, part of you wondered if the past would ever let you go.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Joshua had barely touched his food.

The dinner meeting was productive—great, even. The new branch’s partners seemed reliable, their strategies aligning seamlessly with his company’s vision. It should’ve been a win, but his focus kept slipping.

Maybe it was the restaurant. Too nice, too cozy, too intimate for a business dinner. Or maybe it was New York itself, refusing to let him breathe without conjuring up memories of you.

He sighed, pulling his attention back to the table as the others laughed over a shared joke. He forced a polite smile, nodding along when necessary. When their meal wrapped up, he rose from his seat, buttoning his blazer.

That’s when he saw you.

At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him again, the same way it had been since he arrived in the city. But no, it was you—standing just a few feet away, radiant in a sleek dress, your laugh lighting up the space around you.

And then his gaze shifted to the man beside you.

Tall, broad, effortlessly charming, the stranger was leaning in close, saying something that made you laugh again, your hand briefly resting on his arm. Joshua felt like the air had been knocked out of him.

“Joshua? You coming?” one of his colleagues asked, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” he said quickly, his voice tight.

He watched as you and the man—your date, he realized with a pang—moved toward the door. He hadn’t intended to follow, but as fate would have it, both groups converged near the exit.

You froze mid-step when your eyes met his.

“Joshua?”

Your voice was calm, but he could see the flicker of surprise in your expression. The man beside you turned, curious but unbothered, as though meeting exes was just another Tuesday.

“Y/N,” Joshua managed, his tone polite but strained. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same here,” you said, your voice steady. You glanced at Mingyu and gestured toward Joshua. “This is Joshua, an old friend from college.”

Joshua’s stomach twisted at the casualness of your introduction. Old friend? That’s all he was to you now?

“And this is Mingyu,” you continued, motioning to your date. “He’s…we’re—”

Mingyu, ever the gentleman, stepped in with an easy smile. “I’m her date,” he said, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Joshua shook Mingyu’s hand automatically, the words catching in his throat. Date. Of course. It wasn’t like he had any right to be surprised—you had every reason to move on. But knowing that didn’t make it easier to hear.

“Nice to meet you,” Joshua finally said, forcing a smile. “I hope you’re enjoying the city.”

“Oh, I am,” Mingyu said, glancing at you with a grin. “But I think Y/N’s making it better. She’s been showing me around a bit.”

Joshua’s chest tightened, the casual intimacy between you and Mingyu cutting deeper than he expected. He looked back at you, searching for something—hesitation, discomfort, anything that would tell him you weren’t as unaffected as you seemed.

But you stood there, poised and calm, as though seeing him was nothing more than a passing encounter.

“Well,” you said, your voice light, “we should get going. It was good to see you, Joshua.”

Before he could respond, you turned to leave, Mingyu’s hand resting lightly on your back as he guided you toward the door.

Joshua stood there, rooted to the spot, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background.

You looked happy.

That should’ve been enough for him. But as he watched you walk away, laughter floating back toward him, he realized with a sinking feeling that it wasn’t.

It never would be.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You refused to let Joshua’s sudden appearance rattle you.

The encounter at the restaurant had been startling, sure. Seeing him again after two years—looking as polished and composed as ever—had stirred up something you weren’t ready to name. But you had worked too hard to get to this point, to rebuild your life into something you were proud of.

So, as you slid into the cab with Mingyu, laughing at his exaggerated complaint about how hard it was to hail one in the city, you made a silent promise to yourself: Joshua Hong would not take up space in your mind tonight.

Or ever, if you could help it.

“Okay, so,” Mingyu said, his eyes sparkling as he glanced at you. “What’s next? Dessert? A rooftop bar? Or are you secretly a karaoke queen?”

You laughed, grateful for his easy charm. “As tempting as it is to traumatize you with my singing, I vote dessert. There’s this amazing bakery a few blocks from here.”

“Lead the way,” he said, grinning.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and conversation. With Mingyu, everything felt effortless—like you could be fully yourself without fear of judgment or expectations. You liked that about him. He was warm and steady, the kind of person who made you feel safe in his presence.

And maybe that was why you found yourself saying yes when he asked if you wanted to meet up again later that week.

The weeks that followed were filled with moments that reminded you how much you had missed this—dating, being open to new experiences, letting yourself feel hopeful about the future. Mingyu wasn’t just a distraction; he was someone you genuinely enjoyed being around.

He took you to hole-in-the-wall restaurants that became instant favorites, spent Sunday mornings wandering through farmers' markets with you, and made you laugh until your stomach hurt with his terrible jokes.

Eventually, somewhere between late-night conversations and stolen kisses, you became his girlfriend.

And you were happy.

Joshua, meanwhile, became a ghost of your past—a name you rarely thought about, a memory that no longer haunted you. You assumed he had left the city not long after you’d seen him. After all, New York had never been his kind of place.

Whatever his reasons for being here, they didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Because for the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The holidays were always a busy time for you, but this year, they felt especially chaotic. Between work deadlines, planning Thanksgiving dinner with your mom, and finding the perfect gifts for everyone, your calendar was packed.

You were standing in the kitchen, helping your mom prep a pie crust, when she broached the subject.

“So,” she said, her tone casual but laced with intent, “I ran into Joshua the other day.”

Your hands froze mid-motion. “Oh?”

“Yes, at the market,” she continued, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you. “We chatted for a bit. He looked well, but it turns out he doesn’t have any family in the city for the holidays.”

You had a sinking feeling about where this was going.

“I was thinking,” she went on, carefully avoiding your gaze, “it would be nice to invite him to Thanksgiving. I mean, it’s not right for anyone to be alone on the holidays.”

You placed the rolling pin down and turned to face her. “Mom...”

Of course, it’s up to you,” she added quickly. “We wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But, you know how much we’ve always liked him. And it’s been years, hasn’t it?”

You sighed. She wasn’t wrong. It had been years, and you were pretty much over it—or at least you thought you were. Seeing Joshua at Thanksgiving wasn’t exactly on your holiday wish list, but you couldn’t deny that the idea of him spending the day alone tugged at your heart.

“Okay,” you said finally, though the word felt heavy in your chest. “He can come.”

Your mom beamed. “That’s my girl. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

But you weren’t entirely sure you believed her.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Later that evening, you sat across from Mingyu at your favorite café, stirring your coffee with a bit more force than necessary. You’d been mulling over how to bring it up all day, and now that you were here, the words felt tangled in your throat.

“What’s on your mind?” Mingyu asked, his gaze steady and warm.

You took a deep breath. “Okay, so... there’s something I need to tell you.”

He leaned forward, his expression curious but unconcerned. “Go on.”

“My family invited Joshua to Thanksgiving,” you said, watching his face carefully. “He doesn’t have family here, and they felt bad for him. I agreed because I don’t think anyone should be alone on the holidays, but... there’s something you should know about him.”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed slightly, but he nodded for you to continue.

“He’s not just an old friend from college,” you admitted. “He’s... my ex. We were engaged, actually.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with history and meaning.

Mingyu’s expression shifted, but not in the way you’d feared. There was no anger, no jealousy—just quiet understanding.

“Okay,” he said simply.

“Okay?” you echoed, unsure if you’d heard him right.

“Yeah,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s all in the past, right? You’re with me now. I trust you.”

Relief flooded through you, but there was still a flicker of guilt in your chest. “I just didn’t want you to feel... threatened, or like I was keeping it from you.”

Mingyu reached across the table, covering your hand with his. “You’re telling me now, and that’s what matters. Besides, it’s Thanksgiving. Everyone deserves a little kindness.”

His words warmed something in you that had been cold and uncertain all day.

“Thank you,” you said softly, squeezing his hand.

“Of course.” He grinned. “But if he tries to steal the last slice of pie, all bets are off.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in hours. Mingyu was right. It was all in the past.

But as the holiday approached, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this Thanksgiving was going to be... complicated.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The smell of roasted turkey and freshly baked pies filled the apartment as you smoothed the last wrinkle from the tablecloth. The dining table, though modest in size, had been extended and covered in a cheerful autumn-themed runner. Plates and glasses were set with precision, every detail curated to make the space feel warm and inviting.

Your mom bustled around the kitchen, peeking into the oven and adjusting timers. Mingyu, ever the professional, was by her side, chopping herbs with practiced ease. Despite being a guest, he had slipped into the role of sous chef the moment he walked through the door.

“You’ve been running around all day,” Mingyu said as you adjusted the throw pillows on the couch for the third time. He set down his knife and gave you a pointed look. “Go get ready, Y/N. We’ve got it from here.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He grinned, hands lightly pushing you toward your bedroom. “You’ve cleaned, cooked, and stressed over every detail. You deserve at least twenty minutes to make yourself look even more stunning than you already do.”

Your mom chimed in, nodding her approval. “He’s right, sweetheart. We’ll take care of everything out here.”

Reluctantly, you retreated to your room, shutting the door behind you. A soft pink sweater and your favorite jeans were laid out on the bed, simple but flattering. You took your time brushing out your hair and adding a touch of makeup. When you stepped back out, feeling refreshed and put together, Mingyu looked up from the stove.

His face lit up instantly. “Wow.”

Your mom glanced over her shoulder and gave an approving nod. “You look lovely, honey.”

Heat crept up your cheeks as you muttered a shy thank you. Mingyu walked over, brushing his hands on a kitchen towel before cupping your face for a quick kiss. “You’re perfect.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell buzzed. Guests were starting to arrive.

The apartment filled quickly with the sounds of laughter, conversation, and the occasional clink of glasses. Your family filed in one by one, hugging you tightly and marveling at how wonderful everything looked. You moved between the kitchen and the living room, greeting each person warmly and ensuring everyone had what they needed.

You were setting down a tray of drinks when the doorbell rang again. Straightening your sweater, you opened the door to find Joshua standing there.

He looked a little nervous but composed, a bottle of wine in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

“Hi,” he said with a soft smile.

“Hi, Joshua,” you replied, stepping aside to let him in. “Come on in. It’s good to see you.”

He handed you the flowers, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “These are for you. I wasn’t sure what to bring.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” You gestured toward the kitchen. “Put the wine on the counter. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Joshua nodded, his gaze sweeping the apartment. “This place is really nice.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, trying to keep the interaction light. “It’s cozy, but it works for me.”

As he moved toward the kitchen, you turned back to greet another family member, letting the warmth and bustle of the evening carry you along.

Dinner was a lively affair. Plates were passed around, stories were shared, and laughter filled the room. Mingyu, sitting beside you, charmed your family effortlessly, joking with your cousins and complimenting your mom’s recipes.

Joshua sat a few seats down, mostly quiet but polite. You caught him glancing at you occasionally, his expression unreadable. You made a conscious effort to focus on the conversation around you, refusing to let his presence unnerve you.

At one point, Mingyu leaned over to whisper in your ear. “You’re amazing, you know that? This is perfect.”

You smiled, leaning into him slightly. “Thank you for helping. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Across the table, Joshua watched the quiet exchange, his chest tightening at the ease between you and Mingyu. He tried to focus on his plate, on the stories your uncle was telling, but his mind kept drifting.

The night continued with dessert and coffee, the energy never waning. When it was time to clear the table, Mingyu and your mom insisted you sit and relax. You ended up on the couch with your cousins, reminiscing about childhood antics and laughing until your sides hurt.

Joshua stayed on the fringes of the gathering, helping your dad with the dishes and making polite conversation.

As guests began to leave, Joshua found himself lingering near the door, unsure if he should say goodbye now or wait. Mingyu was by your side, his arm casually draped over the back of the couch, and you looked completely at ease.

When you finally walked him to the door, he hesitated.

“Thank you for letting me come tonight,” he said, his voice low.

“Of course,” you replied, offering him a small smile. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” he said, though the evening had been anything but relaxing for him.

For a moment, it felt like he wanted to say more, but instead, he nodded and stepped out into the night.

As you closed the door, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Mingyu appeared a moment later, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, leaning into him. “I’m fine.”

And you were—mostly.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Joshua closed the door to his apartment, the sound of it clicking shut echoing in the quiet space. He dropped his keys onto the counter and set the bottle of leftover wine he’d brought onto the kitchen island. The place was spotless, minimalist to a fault, but instead of feeling inviting, it felt cold. Impersonal.

He exhaled deeply, tugging at the knot of his tie and shrugging off his blazer. For a long moment, he just stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, his thoughts swirling.

The evening replayed in his mind, each moment sharper and more painful than the last. You, laughing at Mingyu’s jokes, your head tilted back in a way that made you glow. Mingyu’s hand brushing your arm, the way he leaned in to whisper something that had you smiling, cheeks warm with affection.

Joshua hated how easy Mingyu had slipped into the role he used to play—the charming boyfriend who could make your family laugh and feel at ease. It had been his place once, his hand in yours under the table, your parents shooting him approving glances, your little cousins climbing into his lap without hesitation.

He thought he’d prepared himself for this. He’d been the one who left, the one who’d walked away from you, convinced it was the right thing to do. He thought time and distance would dull the ache, make it easier to accept that you had every right to move on. But tonight had proved him wrong.

Dropping onto the couch, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. He hadn’t expected it to hurt like this. The sight of Mingyu fitting so seamlessly into your world felt like a punch to the gut.

He’d been in Mingyu’s position once. He’d cooked with your mom in the kitchen, teased you about being a perfectionist, earned your dad’s trust and your siblings’ affection. He thought back to the countless holidays he’d spent with you, surrounded by warmth and laughter.

But he wasn’t that man anymore. He was the outsider, standing on the periphery of a life he no longer had any claim to.

The apartment felt stifling now, the silence pressing down on him. He rose to his feet, pacing the living room. He glanced at the window, the city lights twinkling beyond the glass. This city was supposed to be a fresh start, a place to build something new. But it only reminded him of what he’d lost.

He grabbed a glass of water and sat back down, staring into the distance.

What hurt the most wasn’t just that you were happy with someone else—it was that you seemed at peace. There was no bitterness in the way you’d looked at him tonight, no lingering resentment. You were kind, warm, even friendly. You’d moved on, and it was clear you’d grown stronger because of it.

And him? He still felt like a man stuck in the past, haunted by what could have been.

Joshua leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes. He knew he had no one to blame but himself.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s a quiet evening, one of those rare nights when both of them have the evening off. You and Mingyu are sitting together on the couch in your living room, the soft hum of the city life just outside the window. You’re curled up next to him, but there’s an unmistakable tension in your posture. You’re quieter than usual, your gaze drifting off, lost in thought.

He glances at you, noticing the subtle shift in your mood. He pauses the movie you were watching, turning to face you.

“You’ve been quiet tonight. Something on your mind?”

You don’t respond immediately, fingers absently fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. The weight of everything—your past with Joshua, your present with Mingyu, and everything in between—feels like it’s weighing down on your chest, carving a hole into you. It’s been a while since you had thought about Joshua, but the holidays had stirred up old feelings you thought you’d buried.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately... about everything.”

He shifts beside you, his expression gentle but serious. He knows something’s off.

“About us? Or... something else?”

“About him.”

His heart skips a beat, but his face doesn’t show it. He nods, giving you the space to say what’s on your mind.

“I thought I was over him. I really did. But sometimes... I don’t know. A small part of me... it still feels like I might always love him in some way.” You look at him, eyes filled with guilt. “I don’t want it to affect us. I love you, I really do. But... sometimes I wonder if it’s something I can truly let go of.”

There’s a long silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air. He takes a deep breath, trying to process it all, before speaking softly, his tone steady.

“I know you’re still healing. And I know that your feelings for him were real. That love was real. I’m not asking you to forget him.” His voice remains calm, understanding. “What I want is for you to be happy. Whether that’s with me, or... if you feel like you need time to figure out your feelings. I just want you to do what feels right for you. I want you to be true to yourself.”

You look at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. You thought he’d be angry or hurt, but instead, he sounds like he’s trying to help you find peace.

“But what if you’re not enough? What if a part of me always holds onto him? That’s unfair to you.”

He squeezes your hand, leaning in closer. His eyes are soft, full of affection and care.

“I’m not asking for your love to be something it’s not. I don’t need you to love me like you loved him. I just want to love you in a way that helps you heal, not keep you stuck in the past.”

Your eyes are glossy now, tears threatening to fall. You want to give him everything, but the weight of the past still clings to your heart, keeping you in limbo.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He gently cups your face, brushing away the tear that escapes with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you need me to. But I also want you to be happy, whether that’s with me or without me. I love you, and I want what’s best for you.”

Your heart aches hearing him say that. You know he loves you—you can feel it in every touch, every word. And yet, you also know you have to face what’s buried deep inside of you. The part of you that’s still tied to Joshua, whether you like it or not.

You lean into his touch, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need time. Time to figure out what I really want... without rushing. I don’t want to make any decisions when I’m not sure.”

He nods, his expression a mixture of sadness and relief. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here. But don’t feel like you have to rush to figure everything out. Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

You look up at him, a deep sigh escaping your lips. You know this isn’t going to be easy, but you feel a sense of comfort in his words. Whatever happens, you have time. Time to heal. Time to understand what you truly want.

And for now, that’s enough.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You step into your favorite coffee shop, the one where the walls are lined with shelves of old books and the scent of freshly ground coffee always seems to settle into your soul. It’s a comforting place, a spot you’ve spent countless hours in, both alone and with friends. And today, you need it more than ever.

Vernon’s already sitting by the window when you arrive, his signature half-smile lighting up as soon as he sees you. He waves you over, and you drop into the chair across from him, your hands absently playing with the edge of your sleeve. You know he’s been watching you for a while, noticing the subtle shift in your mood, the way your thoughts seem to be miles away lately.

“Okay, talk to me,” he says, his voice warm but insistent. You can see the concern in his eyes, even if he’s trying to keep it light. “You’ve been off lately. And I can already guess why.”

You try to shrug it off, but it feels like a weight in your chest. You haven’t told anyone, but the moment Joshua had walked into your life again, even if it was just for one night, everything you’d thought you’d moved on from felt so much more complicated.

“I don’t even know where to start.” You take a deep breath, feeling your chest tighten as you speak. “Mingyu’s been so understanding, but I can’t stop thinking about Joshua. It’s like… like part of me is stuck. I love Mingyu, I do, but… I don’t know. There’s still a part of me that will always care about him. Maybe I’ll never stop loving him.”

Vernon watches you quietly, his gaze steady. You feel like he’s already figured out the direction this conversation is going, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just lets you talk, lets the words spill out.

“I feel like I’m betraying Mingyu just thinking about Joshua. But I also feel like I’m betraying myself if I don’t face it, you know? It’s just... so much.”

You pause, your voice faltering a little. Vernon leans back in his chair, eyes thoughtful. You know he’s been your friend for years—he’s seen you through the ups and downs, the heartbreaks and the happy moments. He knows how important it is for you to be honest with yourself, even when it’s hard.

“I knew something like this was coming,” he says quietly, his tone almost too calm. “You never really let go of Joshua, did you?”

You bite your lip, not quite able to meet his eyes. “I thought I did. But maybe... maybe I just buried it. I don’t know. Seeing him again made me realize how much of me was still tangled up in those feelings.”

Vernon’s eyes soften, but there’s no judgment in his gaze. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Loving someone doesn’t just vanish because time passes. But it also doesn’t mean you can’t move forward.” He pauses, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. “It’s not about forcing yourself to stop loving Joshua. It’s about figuring out what you want. Whether that’s with Mingyu, or by yourself for a bit, or... I don’t know, maybe with someone else. But it has to come from you, not from what you think you’re supposed to do.”

You feel like the world just got a little clearer. Vernon always had a way of cutting through the noise, of getting straight to the heart of things without overcomplicating them.

“I guess... I just need to decide what makes me happiest,” you murmur, staring down at your coffee cup as you swirl it absentmindedly. “But what if I don’t know what that is? What if I can’t make a decision without messing everything up?”

Vernon leans forward, his eyes intense, but his voice soft. “You can’t avoid it forever. But you can take your time. Don’t rush it, Y/N. You’ve been through a lot, and you don’t owe anyone an answer right away. You just need to listen to yourself, and the answer will come. It’s okay not to have it all figured out right now.”

You nod, feeling the tension slowly ease from your shoulders. Vernon’s words are a relief, even if they don’t make everything clear. They give you permission to feel, to not have to have all the answers just yet.

“You’re right,” you finally say, the knot in your stomach loosening a little. “I guess I’ve been trying to avoid the truth for so long that I didn’t realize it wasn’t about fixing everything, but about understanding it.”

Vernon smiles, his usual playful grin returning. “Exactly. And remember, whatever you choose, I’ve got your back. No judgment.”

You let out a breath, grateful for the simplicity of his support. You realize, with a little more clarity than before, that the road ahead doesn’t have to be so overwhelming. You don’t have to force any decisions. You just need to take it one step at a time. And no matter where you end up, you’ll have the people who care about you, like Vernon, guiding you along the way.

“Thanks, Vernon,” you say softly. He grins and lifts his coffee in a toast.

“Anytime.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next few days pass in a blur. After your conversation with Vernon, you feel a sense of relief, but that clarity doesn’t come overnight. It’s not that you’re afraid of the truth—it’s more like you’re afraid of facing it too soon, of rushing into something without fully understanding what it means.

Life moves forward, and in a way, so do you. You throw yourself into your work, meeting with clients, attending events, living your life. Mingyu’s presence in your life is steady, reassuring, and kind. There’s a warmth between you both that feels so natural, so comfortable. You laugh with him, share quiet moments, and everything about your relationship with him feels easy.

But then, you catch yourself sometimes, still thinking about Joshua.

It’s not the first time you’ve had moments like this—where you catch yourself remembering how things used to be between you two—but the frequency is different now. They’re more frequent, and the moments are sharper, clearer. And, each time, it’s like your heart beats a little faster in those quiet moments when you catch yourself missing him.

It’s not even about wishing things had worked out the way you wanted them to. It’s not about regret. It’s about the way he made you feel—the way he understood you in a way no one else ever did.

You remember the quiet, cozy nights you spent together, the way he’d laugh at your bad jokes, how he’d rest his head on your shoulder during long drives, the way he could always make you feel like everything would be okay, even when everything was falling apart.

And you start to realize something—those moments, those memories, the way he made you feel—are still alive inside of you. They're not just memories of a past life. They are a part of you.

As you sit on your balcony with a glass of wine, the city lights twinkling below you, your phone buzzes. It’s Mingyu, asking if you want to meet for dinner tomorrow. You smile at the message, heart light, and yet, when you go to type a reply, you hesitate.

For the first time in weeks, a thought crosses your mind that you can’t shake. Am I really letting go of Joshua?

It doesn’t feel like guilt, not exactly. But it does feel like something is missing, like you’re trying to keep moving forward, but a part of you is still looking back. And that part isn’t easy to ignore.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Then, one day, after a busy meeting, you find yourself walking past a café you and Joshua had always gone to when you’d visited the city. The memory comes rushing back in a flood—his laugh, the way he’d always get extra whipped cream on his coffee, his habit of teasing you about how you always had the most ridiculous requests at the counter.

You pause outside the café, suddenly overwhelmed. A wave of nostalgia swirls through you, soft and lingering, like a shadow of something that once was. You let out a breath and step inside, the familiar scent of coffee beans and pastries filling the air. You sit at the same table you used to sit at, sipping your own coffee. For a moment, everything feels like it’s frozen in time, as if nothing has changed.

And then it hits you. The sudden realization doesn’t come with panic, or regret. It’s more like a quiet understanding, a subtle truth you’ve been avoiding.

The truth is, you still love him. Not in the same desperate way you loved him before, not in the frantic, consuming need to have him back in your life. But there’s a part of you that’s never really let him go.

The thought doesn’t sting like it used to. It’s not even painful anymore—it’s just there, settled into your chest like a permanent mark, something that’s been carved into you. It’s a love that’s glowing in the dark of your heart, a faint, steady light that’s always been there, even through all the changes and the years that have passed. It’s a mark you didn’t ask for, but one that you’ve learned to live with. A love that, despite everything, will never truly leave.

You don’t waste any time. The moment you make up your mind, you know you have to talk to Mingyu. This isn’t fair to him, and you can’t keep carrying the weight of these feelings without being honest.

You find him in the small restaurant he likes to go to when he needs a break from work. It’s quiet, and there’s a warmth in the air from the soft glow of the hanging lights. The kind of place where the world feels a little slower, and it’s easier to think.

He looks up from his coffee as you slide into the seat across from him, his eyes lighting up for a moment before they settle, sensing the seriousness in your expression. He doesn’t need you to say anything for him to know that something’s on your mind.

“I’ve been thinking,” you start, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “About us.”

His brow furrows, but he nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.

“I can’t... I can’t keep doing this to you. I feel like I’ve been unfair. I’ve been holding on to something that I should’ve let go of a long time ago, and it's not fair to you."

Mingyu looks at you, a quiet understanding in his eyes. “Y/N...” he murmurs, reaching out to rest his hand on yours. You don’t pull away, but his touch feels different now—timid, careful.

“I still love him,” you say, the words tasting bitter and raw as you say them out loud. “I thought I was over it, thought I could move on, but... he’s still there, in my heart. I don't know how to explain it, but I can't ignore it anymore."

Mingyu’s expression doesn’t harden. If anything, there’s a tenderness to the way he listens to you. He knows you better than almost anyone. He knows that you don’t make decisions like this lightly. But there’s a sadness in his eyes too, a kind of quiet hurt that makes your heart ache.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your hand. “I... I knew something like this would happen, Y/N. I knew the moment he came back into your life, you’d be torn. I guess I was just hoping... hoping that it wouldn’t matter, hoping I could be enough.” He shakes his head a little, like he’s trying to laugh it off, but there’s no humor in it. “But I get it. I really do.”

Your heart breaks a little, seeing how much he’s trying to hold it together. But you know, deep down, that it’s the right thing. Mingyu deserves someone who can love him completely, without any lingering doubts about the past.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you say, feeling a lump form in your throat. “You’re amazing, Mingyu. You really are. But I can’t keep pretending that I’ve let go of Joshua when I haven’t. And I can’t keep you in limbo.”

Mingyu takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His hand squeezes yours one last time, and then he lets go. “I think we both know what needs to happen. I care about you, Y/N. More than I ever thought I could. But I want you to be happy, truly happy. And if it’s not with me... if it’s with him, then you have to go after that.”

You stare at him, your heart aching as you realize how much he’s letting go of. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, smiling softly, but there’s a sadness there too. “You don’t need to apologize. I knew what I was getting into. And I meant what I said... I want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.”

The weight of the decision sits heavily on your chest. But at the same time, it’s a release. You’ve made up your mind, and you’ve made the choice that feels right—no matter how much it hurts.

Mingyu stands up then, offering you a last, lingering look. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. Always.”

You nod, but the words feel stuck in your throat. You watch him leave, knowing that you’re walking away from something good, something that could have worked... but it’s not the thing.

And now, with a clear heart, you know what you need to do next.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

After breaking up with Mingyu, you feel a weight lifted, but at the same time, there's a gaping hole in your chest, a kind of emptiness that’s hard to fill. You never wanted to hurt him, but you also know that you can’t keep running from the past—especially not when the past is currently in your city.

You try to keep yourself busy, focusing on your work, keeping up with your friends, but every so often, your mind drifts back to that night at Thanksgiving—the way Joshua looked when he walked in, how his gaze kept shifting between you and Mingyu, the quiet distance that grew between you two in the hours after.

It’s been a few weeks since then, and you’ve thought about reaching out to him more than once. You’ve wondered if he’s still in the city, if he’s still staying in that empty apartment. You wonder if he’s moved on, if he’s forgotten all the things that used to matter to both of you.

One night, when you’re heading back home after a long day, your phone buzzes with a message. You don’t recognize the number at first, but when you open it, your heart skips a beat.

Hey, it’s Joshua. I know it’s been a while. I’m in the city for a little longer than expected, and I was wondering if you’d want to meet up for coffee?

Your fingers hover over the screen, uncertainty flooding your chest. You’re not sure if you’re ready for this—if you’re ready to face him and untangle all the feelings that have been buried for so long. But then, you remind yourself: you’ve already made your decision. You’ve made peace with Mingyu, and now, this is just a conversation with someone who was once everything to you. It doesn’t have to mean anything more.

You take a deep breath and type out your response.

I’d like that.

The meeting is set for the next day. It’s a cozy little place, the same place you used to go when you’d sneak away from high school for coffee and talk about your dreams. You arrive early, sitting at the table near the window, watching the rain softly tap against the glass. The café is quiet, and the smell of fresh coffee fills the air.

You see him before he sees you—his broad shoulders, his walk, that familiar way of running his hand through his hair. When he spots you, his expression softens. His eyes look tired, but there’s something else there, something you can’t quite place.

He sits down across from you, offering you a small smile. You can’t help but smile back, despite the tightness in your chest.

“You look good,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You nod. “So do you.”

The silence stretches between you two, both of you unsure how to navigate this conversation. There’s so much history between you, so many unspoken words. The years spent apart have changed you both, but there’s still a familiarity in the way you look at each other.

“I... I didn’t know how to reach out,” he admits after a while, his voice quiet, the weight of his words heavy. “I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to hear from me.”

You take a deep breath, leaning back in your chair. “I didn’t know if I was ready to hear from you either.”

He looks down, clearly grappling with his own feelings. “I’m sorry for how everything ended,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that I wasn’t.”

The apology hits harder than you expect. You knew it was coming, but hearing him say it out loud brings back everything—the hurt, the confusion, the unanswered questions. You’ve spent so long trying to piece it together in your mind, and now, hearing it from him, it feels both relieving and painful.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you say, your voice steady. “We both made mistakes. I’m not angry anymore, Joshua. I just... I had to move on.”

As you sit across from him, your heart heavy with memories, you find yourself reflecting on everything that’s led to this moment. You feel the weight of the past, the good and the bad, the love that once felt so natural, so easy, but also the pain of it falling apart. Your fingers absentmindedly trace the rim of your coffee cup as you consider what to say next.

“You know,” you say softly, your eyes meeting Joshua’s, “this love we had... it was both good and bad. There were so many great moments, but then there were times when it hurt more than I could handle.”

Joshua’s eyes are searching yours, his face filled with an emotion you can’t quite place—hope, guilt, maybe a little bit of both. He doesn’t interrupt, just listens, his gaze never leaving you.

“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about us,” you continue, your voice steady but soft. “And sometimes, love just... doesn’t work out the way you want it to. You can try to hold on, but sometimes, you just have to let it go.”

You can see his face change, but there’s no anger, just understanding. He knows what you mean.

“And I did,” you add, almost whispering, “I had to let it go. I thought that was the only way for me to move on, for me to heal. I didn’t want to keep holding on to something that was only hurting me.”

Joshua nods slowly, his fingers fidgeting with the handle of his cup. “I get that. I do. But... you don’t have to let go forever. Sometimes, when you let someone go, they come back to you. If it’s meant to be.”

There’s a brief silence, the words hanging between you both, heavy with meaning. It’s almost as if time slows down for a moment, allowing both of you to understand the full weight of what’s being said.

“That’s the thing,” you say, your voice quiet but resolute. “I think I had to let it go... because I had to learn to let go of the past. But now, looking at you... looking at us, I’m starting to realize that maybe it’s true. Maybe when you really let go of someone, when you give them space to grow, they can come back to you. And it doesn’t erase the pain or the mistakes, but it’s a chance for something new, something different.”

Joshua’s eyes are softer now, the tension that had been in his posture earlier slowly starting to ease. “I don’t want to rush anything,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m not asking you to forget everything that happened or pretend it didn’t hurt. I just want a chance to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m not the same person I was before.”

“I know,” you say, nodding slowly. “And I’m not the same either. But maybe, just maybe, this time... this love can be something better. I’m not sure what it looks like yet, but I’m willing to find out. I think, for once, we’re both in the right place.”

There’s a quiet understanding between you both, a silent agreement that neither of you wants to rush. The love you had, the good and the bad, the way it glowed in the dark and left a permanent mark on your hearts, is still there. But now, it’s different—more mature, more thoughtful.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could work out. The past doesn’t define you anymore. You’ve both grown, you’ve both learned, and if it's meant to be, the love will come back to you—stronger this time, in a way that it couldn’t have before.

As you sit there, staring at him, you realize that sometimes love doesn’t just fade away—it evolves. And when you’re ready to accept it for what it is, and what it can be, it might just come back to you. Maybe not the way it once was, but with something new.

Joshua leans forward, his hand gently resting on yours, and you feel a familiar spark. It’s not the same spark you felt years ago—it’s warmer now, softer, more knowing.

“You’re right,” he says, his voice low but steady. “This love has always been ours. And I’ll wait, however long it takes. I’m not going anywhere. Hell, I'll even fill out a permanent transfer application at work."

You smiled once again, taking his hand fully in yours, "We'll figure it out."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

author's note 𝟅𝟈 yall i literally cooked so hard with this one, lowkey made myself emotional while writing it.

masterlist.

#kpop #jaeyunluvbot #y/n #seventeen #joshua hong #joshua #hong jisoo #svt #svt angst #seventeen angst #joshua x reader #joshua x y/n #angst #lovers to exes #exes to lovers #reunion #i cooked #mingyu x reader

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heelluring · 5 months ago

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please . . . | en— x reader

apocalypse, so instead of the vampire termination program... they have zombies. mentions of chloe, of course! hurtful words, pain, a n g s t

this is my own take to enhypen's concept film for romance untold. ever since i watched it, i can't stop thinking about it. the boys are so talented 🥹 i wrote this without thinking abt anything so please bare with me if there are mistakes

"The sun has gone down completely. We need to leave" Heeseung ordered, swiftly putting his gun on his waistline.

The group moved with haste. Jay immediately swiped the stocks left for them in a bag while the others prepared the guns and ensured the bullets are well taken care of.

In a few minutes, they're all ready. The car roared to life as Jake maneuvered it to swiftly left the building. But even before, the car passed the walls, a person blocked the road with its body causing the man to hit the break with a curse.

"Fuck, she caught us..." Sunghoon whispered gripping his hair in annoyance looking over the woman who's hitting the rear with its bare hands.

"Guys! Please talk to me, please." You shouted in panic while continuously hitting the car with your palms.

On the other hand, protests were heard inside the car the same time one of the doors opened before seeing the cat shaped eyes meeting yours. The same eyes that belonged to the person you're familiar with.

"Jungwon..." you breathlessly called. Hope swelled in chest. The man didn't reply, instead he haphazardly grabbed your arms and pushed you away from the car disinterested in your own well being.

"Wait— J-jung...won" You struggled to breath, "it hu-rts... you're hur... ting me" and the pain only intensifies when the man even shoved you down. Your eyes caught the other guys in the process, who are now standing casually outside near the car observing the scenes to unfold.

You felt new batches of tears swelling, before crawling the best you can to grab the man who called you his friend just a few days ago.

"Please, jungwon. Let me go with all of you. I-U promise I would never be an obstacle. You can even use me as bait," Your hands hardly hit your chest desperate to prove your worth, "or— or I would never ask for food. Just! Just please, let me go with you. I just wanted to find my mother" You pleaded. Your knees were near the floor while your shaking hands desperately hold on to the man's denim jacket.

"I will never ask for anything. Please. You can just drop me near busan and I can—"

"Why can't you understand anything, y/n? We will no longer help you find your mother. She might be dead now for all we know." Jungwon relentlessly replied cutting you deep with those words, "That means you're being a burden to us, and we're just wasting each other's time"

Y/n stared at her friend. Shocked was an understatement to what she just heard. Is this a dream? A nightmare? Because, jungwon would never do this to her. The jungwon she knew will never do this to her.

"But— you promised..."

"That promise? Promises are meant to be broken from the very start. We're now living in a different world, y/n. Promises are meant nothing in here"

"Finish that now, jungwon. Chloe's waiting..."

You sneered at what you heard. "So that's the reason. Because of that girl."

Jungwon stopped walking but didn't look back, "Chloe was in busan just like my mother so you will never waste time. I'm not asking for anything. I just... just please, I beg you. Let me go with you to get my mother! I will never ask for anything. Just for me to get there fast, to get her fast." You were now practically bowimg your head agaisnt the ground trying to seek mercy to the men you considered as brothers.

"We left some weapon and some stocks inside. Help yourself." His voice was loud and clear, his voice spiked with apathy. "We can't waste any more time helping you."

With that your cries only got louder. You tried to call for jungwon again but he never looked back, instead he walked straight to the car.

"Sunoo...! Please! Jake! Jay! Sung...hoon! Please! Anyone, please I beg you! Please, just this once! Ni-ki! Heeseung!" Tears flowed freely from your eyes, you can't even see anything from how blurry your vision was. But instead of wallowing in your cries, you still call their name. Begging, trying to spark any pity inside them.

The way they easily turn their back on you and walk away makes the numbing pain more evident on your system. You heard doors shutting before the car roared to life again, before it finally vanished from your sight.

"please... don't leave me alone..."

#enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen ff #lee heeseung #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #park jongseong #park sunghoon #sim jaeyun #yang jungwon #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

New Soul 3

Warnings: age gap, Auggy being a mean mean man, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. August Walker

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You focus on not moving. It’s hard to keep from squirming as turbulence shakes the plane and the seatbelt light flicks on. You buckle up and the plane shakes. You slap your hand down on the armrest, clutching a sleeve instead. You squeak and fold your arms over your middle as the man next to you growls.

Despite yourself, you can’t stay out of his way.

As the rattling winds continue to batter the airplane, you bring your fingertips to your mouth and chew nervously. You close your eyes and focus on keeping your breaths even. You jostle in the seat and bounce off the man’s arm. His low rumble is scarier than the unwieldy weather.

The light blips off and the pilot reassures you over the speaker. You keep your belt down up as the stranger unclasps his own and sighs. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. You hope he sleeps. It would make you less nervous if you couldn’t inadvertently annoy him.

He tries. You can sense the tension roiling from his large figure. He grips the armrest, then stretches his fingers, then squeezes again.

You only just recall the movie playing on the tiny screen as the credits roll. You exit the playback and pull out your headphones. You can’t focus on that right now.

You sit back and the man’s elbow brushes you as it overhands the plastic rest. You ignore it and lean into the wall of the plane. It’s chilly. You strain against the seat belt and try to make yourself small. He taps his fingertips and huffs.

The man on his other side snorts and snores, unbothered by the world around him. You envy that passenger. On your best days, sleep is a tall task.

You turn your head and do your best to block out the rows of people, yawning, chattering, coughing, and all of that. Only seven more hours...

✈

The plane lands but your destination is still far away. You don’t stand right away. You can wait. You’d rather be the last off than get in that man’s way again. You’re more relieved to be away from him than to be back on the ground.

At last, he sidles out of the row. You wait but the passenger in the row behind you waves you out. You’re not rude enough to refuse.

You come out into the aisle and reach up to grab your bag. You edge it out of the compartment but you’re unprepared for the weight. You nearly drop it, saving it from crashing down though not without knocking into the man’s back. You cringe as he grunts.

You wait. He doesn’t say anything. He just keeps going. You exhale and follow a few paces back. You go down the ramp and come out into the bright terminal. Free... sort of.

There’s still a maze laid out between you and dorm. Customs, a taxi ride, and check-in. You have it all in your head but the more you try to keep it all in order, the more of a mess you become.

At the customs counter, you drop your folder as send a splash of papers across the floor. After gathering them up with the last of your dignity, you’re let through and the next obstacle awaits you. You could try the underground but a taxi is more direct and less crowded. So you think.

You go outside and find the pavement crowded with new arrivals and departures; some waving for a cab, others hurrying in with their bags. You’re stuck in the shuffle, hidden in the bodies as you try to flag down a ride of your own.

You push through the horde and try to find somewhere sparser. Somewhere you won’t be trampled. You see a black cab and flail desperately as you run up to it, your bag tumbling around behind you. Before you can reach it, the door opens and you collide with the man’s suitcase, your own rolling free of your grasp.

Oh no. What are the chances?

The man keeps his hand on the door and sneers down his nose. He collapses the handle on his bag as the driver comes around to take it. He shoos the man and points to your fallen suitcase.

“Ladies first.” He snarls.

The driver nods and grabs your bag before you can react. As he tucks it into the trunk, you’re seized by your elbow and directed over the curb. You catch yourself on the door and glance over your shoulder at the large man.

“You heard me.” He growls and shoves you.

Your arms give out and you hit the seat. You barely drag your tangled carry-on in behind you as he sits without waiting. You just manage to get out of his way as he does.

“What are you doing--” You squeak, confused.

“You're in my way,” he snarls and turns his head slowly.

“I-- I’m sorry--”

The drive gets in and you choke on your words. The man leans forward and pauses. He gestures to you. “Where?”

The blunt question makes you flinch. You don’t know what to do. At least he isn’t taking you somewhere strange, still, you don’t think you should be giving out your address.

He sighs and snatches your bag, sliding free the folder as it peeks out from the open zipper. He filters through it and pulls out a paper and reads of the dorm building address. Shoot.

“Yes, sir,” the driver replies and eases out into the line of cabs.

#august walker #dark august walker #dark!august walker #august walker x reader #series #new soul #drabble #au #mission impossible: fallout

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voxmortuus · 1 year ago

Note

I have a very specific DARKFIC request for you with a pretty serious trigger warning.

Tangerine and non-con with a virgin fem reader. Eventually the reader starts to enjoy it as the scene caries out. Bonus points for pet name use and a splash of breeding kink.

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Dark!Tangerine x F!Reader ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ Bullet Train ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 2.6k ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧Dead Dove Do Not Eat | Virgin Reader | Rough Intercourse | Hitting | Spitting | Choking | Hair Pulling | Bleeding | Degradation | slamming readers into bathroom wall | Pressing readers head against the wall | Taking it from behind | NON-CONSENSUAL UNPROTECTED INTERCOURSE | Eventual consent with reader enjoying the scene | Mention of Cock warming | Eager to please Reader | Pet name | Breeding Kink | Cream Pie | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ DISCLAIMER: *̥˚✧ DO NOT ROMANTICISE OR GLAMORIZE SERIAL KILLERS OR RAPE! I do not condone these actions, nor do I support them! This was written upon request. Do NOT send me hate mail, you will be blocked, do not post on this with any sort of negativity you will be blocked. If you don’t like it don’t read it it’s that simple!!! If you ever encounter this in real life please contact the Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline. Please understand this is a fanfiction, think of it like Hollywood. Also, I’m sorry if this is horrible….. ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I hope this finds you well, I hope this hits all the right notes with you. ✧*̥˚ IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist | Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist *̥˚✧

It's like his nose was a hound dog for that virgin blood. Watching you sit there on the train in an empty car you were reading your most current favorite book The Terminal List by Jack Carr, with your earbuds in listening to the latest song you were hooked on by Ice Nine Kills. You were minding your own business when this man dressed sharply sits across from you. Looking up you give him a polite smile and went back to your book.

After a brief observation of the man sitting across from you, you noticed he had blood on his shirt, but you didn't think much of it. Sure alarming, but it was what it was, especially these days. Licking your lips, you turn the page. You feel these eyes on you. You glance up and sure enough, he's looking at you like you were some delicious snack. You give a slightly tense smile and look back down at your book.

You start to feel uncomfortable; your heart is racing; your mind is focused less on the book and music and more on this strange man sitting across from you staring you down. You lick your lips once more before you gather your small backpack and excuse yourself. You feel him watching you, but you don't look back, you just keep going.

Upon excusing yourself, you head toward the bathroom. Closing yourself in there you try and calm your nerves. You look over yourself in the mirror and shake yourself a bit and let out a slow breath. You plan to go back out after a few more moments and move to a different car.

After fixing your makeup, you finally get your nerves calm enough to return to the car. Opening the bathroom door, you walk right into his chest, and you stumble a moment.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry." You say softly.

He didn't say anything. He gripped your throat and moved you back into the bathroom closing the door and locking it.

"Excuse me... no. Let me out." You state firmly.

"Babydoll, you need to be relax and be polite." He smirks.

"You need to fuck off... no." You state trying to push past him.

He pushed you back against the wall and shook his head and licked at his lips. "I don't think so Babydoll."

"I'm not you're Babydoll, and you need to back off." You state firmly, but it appears he's not listening.

You try and push him off you but his strength wasn't letting that happen. His hand starts to roam your body.

"What the fuck! Stop it!" you snap.

"You need to shut up." He states as he slams you against the wall.

Turning you around he reaches around and slips his hand under your shirt groping you. He lets out a soft groan against your neck. You begin to panic and pushing back but he keeps you in place with his forearm.

"Stop... please stop." You plead.

He hears you, but he doesn't listen, and he moves from your chest to slipping his hand into your leggings and realizes you're not wearing any panties and he smirks.

"Such an easy little slut you are huh?" He muses.

"Please don't do this." you beg. Your eyes well with tears. Closing your eyes tears drop.

"Oh come on now Babydoll, I love when they cry..." He purrs into your ear as he starts to massage your bud.

You begin to panic, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind running miles a minute. You try and choke back tears, but you feel like you can't breathe, and you try and fight him off but he's just keeping you there.

Closing your eyes you let out a soft breath and you attempt to push yourself away again, trying to escape from it all, your mind races, your heart pounds, your eyes crying.

"Please, please don't do this. I'm begging you. I'll give you whatever you want, but please stop." You plead.

"Oh Babydoll, you're going to give me exactly what I want." He smirked as he pressed himself against you.

Was he hard? Oh geez... oh no, yes, yes he was and then you knew your fate. He slips your leggings down as he presses your head against the wall. Your breathing quickens. You had no idea what to expect, you were saving yourself for the right person, the right moment, and here he was getting ready to rob you of that, to take it all away from you.

Thoughts ran through your head. Why you? Why now? Why this? What did you do to deserve this? Why won't he listen? All these on repeat, and it wouldn't stop. Why won't he stop? Why is he doing this?!

Trying to find your words to plead you turn around to try and push him but he is quick to slap you across the face and it causes your lip to bleed. You whimper a moment, and you try and fight back but he again, slams you against the bathroom wall. With a hand around your throat he spins you back around and slams you against the wall again.

"God damn it Babydoll, be a good girl." He snarls into your ear.

Moving from your neck to your hair he grips a hand full of your hair and moves you so he can position himself, but you fight. He snarls again before he says fuck it, and shoves his hard cock between your virgin lips and rips your innocence from you in one swift thrust.

You scream, in pain, the snapping, the hot pinch of pain, the searing hot rush hits you and you take in a jagged breath.

"No... no no no! Stop! PLEASE!" you plead but there is no stopping.

You try and fight him, but with him pinning you against the wall you can't escape him. His thrusts become quick, they become hard, and they hurt. His growling his snarling, his grunts and groans fill the bathroom and all you want is to be let go, return to your seat, read your book, listen to your music, that of which was now on the floor from the fighting. Your ear buds letting the music escape from them freely while you're being held hostage against this bathroom wall.

You begin to cry, hard, but this only seems to fuel him even more. Why was this happening right now. You begin to breathe heavily in panic. Your chest moving rapidly with each thrust, it wasn't out of enjoyment, it was out of panic, and anger, and aggression. He tilts your head back and your mouth opens only for him to spit in your mouth. You growl and spit back but he slams your head against the bathroom wall as his thrusts become harder.

You try and find your happy spot, but it wasn't working, everything was becoming too much. You couldn't get your mind to focus. So you focus on what's around you. The buttons for the toilet, the scent of the bathroom, the scent of him, the scent of blood... wait, blood? Oh, yeah... blood... that happens in moments like this. And then you feel angry again. This hot rush of anger hits you and you start to fight again.

"LET ME GO!" You start to fight again. Trying to push him away. But with the angle he's got you at makes it difficult.

"Babydoll, shut up." He growls. "You can fight all you want, you're giving me nothing but a harder cock." He smirks.

You growl and try and fight but that wasn't happening. His thrusts were hard, rigid, painful, your hips felt like they couldn't withstand the thrusts. You take in a jagged breath, you clench your jaw and you try and jerk your head with his hand in your hair and he only slams your head against the wall again.

You feel this daze hit you, one too many slams against the wall, you feel this tingling in your nose as he starts to thrust a little slower. Was he taking his time? You close your eyes trying to find that happy place, but all you can feel and see and focus on was his face, and how he felt stretching your virgin cunt. You clench your jaw breathing out of your nose.

You didn't want to think about it. You didn't want to feel this, you wanted this bubbling feeling to go away. You clenched your jaw and attempted to think of something else. The harder he thrust, the slower he took, the more your mind focused on the way it felt, how his cock felt slipping in and out just enough to tease the length. You actually felt yourself getting wet and you clench your walls around him. Not out of pleasure, but out of hopes of stopping yourself of getting wet, you didn't like it, you didn't want it.

You wanted to save it... but there was no saving anything. You hated him, you were angry with him, you hated him, you wanted to kill him... to rip his heart out and eat it with a side of french fries. You sniffle as you try and regain yourself and pushing back against him he shoves you forward again, his thrusts deep, slow, almost teasingly slow. What was he doing? Oh no, no he knew what he was doing. He wanted you to cave, but you weren't going to. You didn't want to.

This wasn't a game, this was a fight, and you wanted him to stop, taking all the stops but you weren't able to move, you felt this sense of defeat, accepting what it was. You just stood there, as he used you.

"That's it Babydoll... acceptance. You're tight little cunt feels so good... that tight little cunt belongs to me now. It's now molded for my cock. I'll be keeping you close Babydoll, use you whenever I want." He purred against your ear with a slight snarl.

You had no words, but why were they doing something to you, why were they making you feel conflicted. Why were you liking this? Your breathing picked up. You bite your lip a little harder.

"I'm going to breed you, fill you every day. Use you like the little slut fleshlight you are." He mused.

Okay now that did something. You whimper softly. Biting your lip, your hips spread a bit as you arch back a bit taking in more of him. He doesn't say anything in this moment, you just take his cock, focusing back on the feel of it, focusing on the way it fit inside you just right. Focusing on how it made you feel, you feel yourself loosen up around him, feeling yourself getting wetter.

"You...you... want to breed me?" You ask with an almost timid voice.

"I'm going to breed the fuck out of you Babydoll. You like that?" He asked.

You think a moment and nod. "Are you going to fill me up?" You ask.

He laughs with a slight groan. "Whenever I want." He purrs against your ear again.

You focus on the things around you, and you realize the title of the next song. Dirty Thoughts by Chloe Adams. You bite your lip and you let out a soft whimper, feeling how long he was, how wide he was, how he stretched you, you think about his words, how he wanted to use you, how he breathed, how he wanted to breed you. Your breathing picks up a little more.

It went from you hating this moment, to you starting to enjoy this moment.

"I want you to use me... to breed me... to fill me up..." You admit.

The thought of it, dripping his seed from your cunt was something that actually really turned you on. Biting your bloodied bruised lip you let out a soft moan as you spread your legs a little more letting him slip deeper and you press your ass toward him letting him take even more.

"That's it Babydoll, take more of my cock." He growled as he started to thrust upward into you.

You gaps feeling him slip fulling into you, feeling him hit right to the base of his shaft.

"You're so big... you feel.... you feel..." you don't want to say it.

"I feel what Babydoll?" He asked.

"You feel good... I like how you fill up my virgin pussy." You state. Where was this smut coming from? Where was this seeping from? Must have been all the fanfiction you were reading before coming on this train. "Please... fuck me a little slower... I want to feel all of you." You plead.

He blinked a few times and smirked. "My pleasure Babydoll." He mused.

Slowing his thrusts, you think a moment and you reach down to slip your pants off your leg.

"I want to face you.... please... I want you to face me and fuck me." You plead.

He smirks and pulls from you. This moment you could run, but you slip the pantleg off and place your hands on his shoulders and he lifts you and presses you against the wall, noticing the bruising on the side of your face, the blood from your lip, he leans forward and licks at your chin and sucks on your lip as he slips his cock back inside your slightly bleeding wet drippy cunt.

You let out a soft moan against his lips as you wrap your legs around his waist and feel him thrust deeper within your walls. They begin to message him.

You rest your head against the wall behind you. Your hands move from his shoulders to play at the hairline at his neck. As he bounces you against his cock your bud is rubbing against him and the sensation is overwhelming. You let out a loud moan. Feeling yourself getting wetter you close your eyes as they roll back. You whimper and moan rather loudly.

"That's it Babydoll, enjoy yourself." He smirks.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck... breed me... fuckin hell breed me. Pump me full." You moan loudly.

He looks over you and tilts his head and smirks as he picks up his pace, thrusting faster, harder, deeper. You feel yourself getting close. You clench your jaw as you drop your head against his shoulder. Your breathing quickens, he begins to pick up his pace a little more, his breathing, his moans quicken as he pumps into you.

"FUCK!" you scream as your body begins to shake.

Never experiencing pleasure like this, you were going to quickly get addicted. He slams you down on his cock.

"Fill me! FILL MY CUNT! BREED ME!" you scream.

He chuckles. "An eager Babydoll you are... I'm going to enjoy filling you up everyday." he smirked as he gave a few more slams and lets out a heavy groan.

Your body shook as you just let everything go. Your whole body just releases and takes his hot ribbons of breeding seed. You scream with a finish as he continues to pump his load into you.

You grip at his hair a moment, your breathing erratic, your mind calm and quiet, your body tingling, sore, and euphoric. Everything felt good and sore at the same time.

"Fuck..." You pant. You look over him. "Do you have a name?" You ask him.

"Sir works just fine, Babydoll." He smirks.

You tilt your head and smirk. "Does this mean I'm all yours now?" You ask.

He looks at you and smirks. "With a mouth like that, damn fuckin straight it does Babydoll." He states with confidence.

"Can we do this again soon?" You ask.

"Are you going to fight me next time?" he asked.

"No... but maybe I can make you hard and I can sit on it while we wait for the next stop?" You ask.

"Cock warming may be a little too advanced for you." he smirked.

"And this wasn't? I'll warm your cock, and you can fill me up again." You smirk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @earth-elemental18 @nyxvuxoa-writes

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nanowrimo · 1 year ago

Text

4 Ways To Cure Writer’s Block

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. NovelPad, a 2023 NaNoWriMo sponsor, is a novel drafting software designed to make it easy for writers to write. Today, they're sharing a few tips to help you beat writer's block:

NovelPad loves NaNoWriMo because we have the same goal: Helping authors get the thing done!

Starting a book is usually fun and easy—your fingers dance across the keyboard as you explore an exciting world, meet your characters, and stir up intrigue for the coming plot. But once you get into the weeds of how that all works, and how you and your characters get from Point A to Point B, you might find yourself losing momentum. You might find yourself so encumbered with obstacles that you might get a case of the dreaded writer’s block.

The very good news is that writer’s block isn’t terminal, and I certainly don’t think writer’s block is as enigmatic as some people seem to think. I believe it’s actually quite a simple problem, and usually due to one of a few common factors. Let’s look at four ways you can push yourself through your case of ye olde block.

1. Check in with yourself.

Step one is always to check in with yourself.

Start by reviewing your basic self-care needs:

Are you staying hydrated?

Do you feel hungry?

Would a shower or a nap be beneficial?

Is it time for a walk or some stretching exercises?

Consider your environment as well. Maybe you need:

Noise-canceling headphones

A change of scenery

A babysitter or someone to help around the house

To open or close some windows

Next, evaluate your level of focus. Is your mind wandering elsewhere? It can be useful to create a "dump list" to jot down anything that's causing you stress, such as work-related issues, pending tasks, or upcoming events. Setting that list aside can give you the tangible feeling of pushing those things off your desk to worry about later.

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 year ago

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Baki 12 days of Christmas… an angsty yandere for @justamegafan. Merry Christmas!!

The mc is Hanayama’s arranged fiancée who he hates (at first). A trope I will never stop writing until I’m shot dead on the spot

Yandere Baki Shorts: A Christmas Carol

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Afab Reader

TW: Angst, mentioned character death (spoiler), Yandere, and mention of terminal illness

Hanayama often found his fiancée scuttling around his office like a little crab. She was such a skittish thing, with big, innocent eyes and a soft voice. She was weak, something Hanayama disliked most in a partner. And she always tried her best to get to know him… today was no exception

“Can we please spend Christmas together? Just this once?” Hanayama sighed when she stared up at him with her doe like eyes. Why couldn’t she get the hint that he wanted to be left alone?

“This is merely an arrangement by our families, I could care less about your feelings and the stupid holidays.” Hanayama ran a hand through his dark locks. “You’re bothering me so I suggest you leave.”

Hanayama ignored the soft sobs that escaped her lips and he didn’t even cast her a glance when she wished him a soft “Happy holidays.” The door quietly shut behind her and he went back to work. At least she could shut the door properly.

Hanayama shoved the Christmas cookies she made him into the trash beside his desk and continued to work on his paperwork. Hopefully this was the last time he’d ever have to deal with her… he couldn’t stand this arrangement but he kept with it because he wanted to honor his deceased mother’s wishes. Hanayama knew he could never grow to love the meek woman no matter how hard he tried, she’d break if he so much as touched her. She was far too fragile for him.

When it finally became night, Hanayama decided to retire for the night. The yakuza went to lay down in his bed but the screen door to his room suddenly opened and a cold, winter breeze blew in. What on earth?

“Hello.” Hanayama nearly jumped out of his skin when a ghostly apparition stood at the foot of his bed. The youthful face of his mother stared back at him which left his mouth gaping like a fish. “It’s been so long…”

“M-mom?” Hanayama reached out for the figure but she gently put his hands down. She was as cold as ice… “Why are you here?”

“We need to go for a walk… a nice, long walk.” His mother gave him a soft smile as she lead him around towards the door of his room. “A walk in the past.”

“The past… what do you mean?”

“Well, I’m the ghost of Christmas past.” His mother smiled as the walls of the compound began to change to the ones he was familiar with when he was a child. What kind of magic was this? How was this even possible? “You need to be reminded of your origins…”

Hanayama was shocked to see himself as a child crying as he sat beside his mother in the old family room. The ghost beside him pointed to the red welt on her human body’s face. “I used to beg your father to stay with me every once and awhile… to spend time with us as a family.”

Hanayama frowned as he watched the image play out of his mother. How could he forget that his mother had begged to spend time with his father when he was younger… perhaps he had blocked all those memories out since he had to become the leader of the yakuza at a young age? “This was the Christmas where I found out I had cancer… I really wanted to spend time with him since my time was running out…”

The ghost shook her head and lead Hanayama back to his room once she felt as if he understood her point.

The ghost held Hanayama’s hand. “You’ve grown so much… you look just like your father.”

Hanayama went to hold the ghost but she pushed him back, “and you’re just like your father.”

“Wait! Please don’t go-“ the figure of his mother was gone in a flash which left him clutching his chest in sorrow. Why did his mom leave so fast… wasn’t she proud that he’s taken over the family? Why did she show him such an image?

“It’s been awhile, Hanayama.” Hanayama froze when he noticed the ghostly figure of Retsu standing at his door. “It seems that it’s my turn with you as the ghost of Christmas Present.”

Hanayama was silent in thought. Retsu had just passed away recently yet… why would he be here? Retsu had nothing to do with his life…

Retsu waved Hanayama to follow him and Hanayama obliged. The two walked in silence until they stopped in front of a small room in the furthest corner of the compound. Retsu placed a hand on the screen door which made it into a mirror that they could see inside… (your name) sat in her room violently coughing.

“You know I was her best friend when I was alive.” Retsu whispered as he turned to look at Hanayama. “She’s dying, you know.”

Hanayama froze in shock. (Your name) was dying… she was dying. Why hadn’t she told him she was sick? Why- Hanayama was drawn out of his thoughts when Retsu held up a hand. The Chinese man frowned at Hanayama. “You don’t listen to her so she’s never told you… she needs new lungs.”

Hanayama placed a hand on the doorway when he saw her hold up a handkerchief full of blood. She was so fragile… just like his mother. And he had been so cruel to her. How could he-

“I was planning on confessing to her once I beat Musashi.” Retsu shared with Hanayama as he went into the room and sat beside (your name). She obviously couldn’t see Retsu as she softly cried. “I was in love with her.”

Hanayama clenched his fists as he watched Retsu drape a blanket around (your name)’s shoulders which made her look around the room in surprise. The man turned to Hanayama with a frown. “But my own pride ruined everything… I just want her to be happy.”

“… did you come here to gloat in my face?”

“No. She didn’t feel the same way.” Retsu smiled at Hanayama as he combed his fingers through (your name)’s hair. The ghost smiled sadly. “It’s so unfair… she deserves so much better than you.”

Hanayama was offended despite how correct Retsu was… he truly didn’t deserve (your name). She was always kind and sweet to him despite how many times he pushed her away over the years. She was undaunted by his rejection and still tried to get to know him… he should give it another chance. He should do something wonderful for her tomorrow…

Retsu rested his ghostly head on (your name)’s shoulder with a sad sigh. He pressed a parting kiss to her shoulder which made her glance around the room in confusion. The man then lead Hanayama back to his room. “I’m sorry… my feelings started to get in the way of what I was meant to show you. You’ll be visited by one last ghost, the ghost of Christmas future.”

Hanayama went to say something to Retsu but he was gone in a flash. The yakuza stood in the center of the room in confusion. One more ghost… who on earth could that be?

Hanayama then felt a sudden chill run down his spine as the room before him melted away into that of a grave yard. A ghastly figure in a black cloak that covered their body floated into the room. A skeletal hand was placed on his shoulder while the other pointed at a gravestone with (your name)‘s name on it. No… (your name) would die? She couldn’t die… she was so young.

Hanayama didn’t even have time to think before the ghost snapped their fingers and showed Hanayama a much older of himself who sat hunched over his desk. The older version sobbing as he held his head. What on earth had happened?

“You never found love again after she died.” The ghost whispered into his ear. “You actually went insane with guilt and it made your yakuza family fall apart.”

Hanayama watched this foreign version of him chug down an entire bottle of whiskey as he held a picture in his hand… it was a wedding picture of him and (your name)… they were meant to get married in a few months… so this must be a few years from now.

“I didn’t know… I didn’t know…” the other version of Hanayama whispered as he pressed his forehead against the picture. “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry.”

Hanayama frowned at how his office was in disarray. This wasn’t like him at all… why on earth was his office so messy?

“She kept all your paperwork organized. She’d sneak into your office when you were asleep to try to help you out since you’re not every good with numbers.” The ghost chuckled bitterly. “She as such a stupid woman… falling in love with a man as selfish as you.”

Hanayama gasped when the ghost pulled up the hood over their head to reveal (your name). Except there was no warmness in her eyes nor was there her tender smile. Why did she look so cold… why did she look at him with such eyes full of resentment? She loved him…

“This is your future. My future.” The ghost told him with a sigh. “You have to change, Hanayama.”

Hanayama but his lip as he stared at the sobbing figure of his future self. He didn’t want to be so pathetic…

“What do I have to do?” Hanayama asked the ghost who frowned at him. She didn’t say a word as she walked away. Hanayama went to follow her but the hallways began to distort and show Hanayama a different ghost of (your name) who sat side by side with the ghost Retsu. They looked so happy… she wasn’t supposed to be with Retsu. She was his. “Wait! Where are you going?”

Many images of the way he’s treated his fiancée flashed by him as he hopelessly chased after the ghost. Her teary face and bloody handkerchief now haunted him… he didn’t want her to suffer anymore. Hanayama didn’t want her to die… she couldn’t die. And he certainly didn’t want his wife to be with another man. No. She was his… (your name) belonged to him.

“There’s nothing you can do.” The ghost told him as she gave him a soft smile that was eerily similar to the ones his (your name) gave him. “Now wake up.”

And that’s when Hanayama fell into a dark bottomless pit. The large man couldn’t even utter a sound before he woke up in his bed. His body was covered in sweat and his eyes were wide in horror. A nightmare…

Hanayama’s hands grabbed at his body in shock before he gave a laugh full of disbelief escaped him. He was alive… he was fine…

Hanayama shot out of bed and quickly made his way towards (your name)’s room. He had to make sure she was alive… he had to make sure she was okay.

Hanayama slammed the door open to (your name)’s room which scared the poor girl out of her wits. She was already dressed for the day and was shocked to see Hanayama in his pajamas.

“O-oh. I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong-“ (your name) was shocked when Hanayama pulled her into a hug. The giant man pressed kissed all over her cheeks with passionate fervor.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Hanayama chanted as he ran his thumbs over her soft cheeks. “Let’s spend Christmas together.”

(Your name) couldn’t utter a single word out before she was whisked out of her room and brought to the dining room she had always wanted to sit at with him. What was going on? Had Hanayama gone insane? She was going to leave him alone just like he had wanted… so why did he have this sudden change of heart.

Hanayama had his servants quickly prepare a gran breakfast for the two of them. His large hand held hers close to his chest. The yakuza boss pressed kisses all over her knuckles as he waited for their food.

“I won’t ever ignore you again. We’ll spend every meal together and you can move into my room…” Hanayama gave her a soft smile. “And I’ll pay for your medicine, okay? You can get that procedure-“

“I-I never told you I was sick.” (Your name) whispered as she tried to pull her hand away. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything for me-“

(Your name) gasped when Hanayama suddenly pulled her onto his lap and pressed his lips against hers in a searing kiss. His dark eyes never let hers. “Nonsense… I’m going to be a good fiancé from now on and an even better husband.”

Hanayama’s hands began to explore her curves as a different kind of hunger filled his eyes. “I’ll take care of your every need from now on… because you’re mine.”

Rather than change for the better, he had changed for the worse

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kalpeavaris · 1 month ago

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MD: Echo Info Post #1 (Character Edition)

So I reblogged this image about wanting to (over) share about OCs... and then I got a mysterious message telling me to speak about my OCs... 👀(*cough* @inkyprince I said I'd tag you hehe *cough*)

So I've decided to just do it, lmao. I love sharing stuff about my OCs, stories and whatnot and this is my blog, imma do what I want!

Gotta lay out some trivia & information about my Murder Drones AU, Echo! Wether it be characters or concepts, because maybe it'll get some people interested :D All of the info is below the cut, and for the first iteration of this I've chosen Kira, aka "ZWEI", for this!

Kira - "ZWEI" - White Witch

A lot of her information can also be viewed on her ToyHouse Profile (logged in user only, sorry!)

Playlist - Pinterest - Voice Claim - Theme Song

Content Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts (non-explicit), chronic (terminal) illness (in... robot-terms?)

(older art, but it does the trick lmao)

Kira was one of the Drones that were tested and infected with the Absolute Solver code back in the 3040s and 50s in the Cabin Fever Lab Cathedral with her number being 24.

As a Communication Drone the Solver's abilities affected her in a different way than her fellow Worker Drones, causing the humans to become aware of certain powers that she exhibited which weren't displayed in other Drones.

Her "exorcism" (or, well, patch) was botched as Kira's OS wasn't capable of adapting to the patch version, causing it to corrupt and allow for a vunerability that lead to Echo (a mutated version of the AS) planting it's own code inside of Kira's, which jump-started Echo's influence on Communication Drones.

Kira's Solver is always active - that's why her eye doesn't return to normal and only ever displays the emblem. She overheats extremely easily all the time and is prone to physical pain and tinnitus due to her being unable to block out inbound signals if she picks them up.

This has her health deteriorating quickly over the course of the MD: Echo story, slowly succumbing from it, though she keeps on pushing forward to stop ECHO and it's hosts. She needs actual medication to keep the pain at bay and constantly consumes Oil at a high rate to stop overheating. If her Solver was to deactivate she'd most likely pass away within a few days.

Her secondary name, "ZWEI" means "Two" (or could also be interpreted as "the second") in German. It is a reference to her part in the story, as well as her connection to ECHO. (won't be spoilered for now 8D) She associates alot of trauma with it and doesn't like being referred by it.

Personality wise Kira seems fairly withdrawn from everyone around her except her friends and partner/family. If she's in a good headspace she's fairly open and confident, almost fierce in the way she appears to others. Kira's keen on keeping up a strong facade to not show strangers her weaknesses or true condition.

"But what are Communication Drones?"

I'm glad you asked! Communication Drones look like normal Workers, though the one thing that sets them apart are the two antennas on their head which can vary in size & style depending on their desired function (short-range, long-range, ground signals, air signals etc.)

These antennas function as ears for them, so if they're removed, their hearing is damaged (not entirely deaf, but definitely worsened). So if a "normal" CD loses their antennas they're having a harder time adapting as their intake of sound is greatly reduced.

As an AS user/host, Kira's able to pick up on stronger signals from far away or even sending out signals to stun/manipulate others around her in a short radius. This effect doesn't stay though, it'll wear off over time and actively consume energy from the Drone using it.

Disassembly Drones can also have the subtype of a Communication Drone as shown in the sketch below (left DD) - their antennas are usually shorter and made for short-range and aerial signals as they're capable of flight, too.

(I almost made them a polycule not going to lie they all hot as fuck) wish that was me-)

(Kira on her way to cast 'gun, prepare to meet god' in the face of a fucking angel-robot-AI that believes to be god itself)

Kira plays a big part in the MD: Echo universe next to some minor characters & canon characters. Her main motivation is to help stop Echo, as it also tries to infect her via the unstable Solver code in her OS.

Crucifix Symbolism

(the power of christ compels you!)

Something very important to Kira is her botched patch / "exorcism". She's obsessed with crucifix looking symbolism which continues to haunt her almost 30 years later during MD: Echo's timeline.

She's desperate to break free from this, but cannot help herself. She compulsively collects cross-shaped imagery and in the first few months after her escape from the Lab she actively built crosses from all sorts of materials.

It's mainly coming from her OS being overwhelmed by the botched patch and the crucifix imagery of the USB burning itself in her memory files as some sort of "salvation" she has yet to achieve. Luckily, this started to fade out over the years, especially after meeting T who helped her to overcome the trauma of the incident.

(CW: Mentions of Self-Harm)

After being infected by the Absolute Solver, Kira desperatly tried more than once to remove her antennas to keep the voices from appearing. It talked to her from the inside, but she didn't realize this yet. Like almost all other AS Users however she kept on regenerating, unable to escape the inner turmoil of the Solver's possession and Echo trying to get inside of her OS as well.

Effects of the AS on her psyche

(holy shit have you ever seen a centipede that big? what is this? australia?)

Haunted by visions of the Solver, it's communications with the other Drones and later on the landing pods of the Disassembly Drones Kira had a hard time to tune out these visions she got from time to time. Similar to Nori in that regard Kira wrote everything down she heard through these intercepted signals, amassing hundreds of pages of logs she was able to get.

Meeting her partner

("Girl I swear I have normal hands too don't be distracted by my sexy claws")

In the 3060s, she stumbled upon one of the Disassembly Drone squads outside of the colony's Outpost she was seeking shelter in. She had intercepted their landing pods signals and was "curious" to seek out whoever had arrived, trying to solve the mystery of whatever the Solver had her experience.

That's when she found Serial Designation T - the navigator of the squad, who at first attempted to kill her like he'd been tasked to do. After all, Kira was a Solver Host that couldn't be fully mind-controlled anymore. But in the middle of him attacking her T's code was halted by Cyn herself, deactivating his executive task to kill the Host he had infront of him. He himself didn't know why exactly the Solver did this, but in hindsight it was due to the fact that Kira was still able to be of use to it later on.

(POV: you deleted system32 from your PC because some random kid on roblox told you to)

Now neutral, T got curious about Kira whom he tried to speak to with her Kira (driven by curiosity on why he had stopped being aggressive all of a sudden, being able to intercept the communication he had with Cyn) staying to talk to him.

Over the following weeks the two grew acustomed with each other, slowly building a friendship that later on evolved into a more romantic nature. Kira hid him in the Outpost and brought in food for the two of them as she constantly needed oil as well.

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crossfandomskylines · 8 days ago

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In the Space Between: Chapter 6

Other Chapters:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: After returning from a press tour in New York, Glen reconnects with Gabby at a local bar where they meet up with their mutual friends, Tanner and Kayla. The evening is full of easy conversation and laughter, and Glen and Gabby share a walk back to her apartment. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and once inside, they share a tender, intimate moment that deepens their connection. In the quiet aftermath, Glen stays the night, and the two of them wake up together the next morning. As they enjoy breakfast, they open up about their families and childhoods. Glen listens attentively, offering support and comfort. The chapter closes with a simple, quiet moment of companionship as they share a calm morning together, setting the stage for what comes next in their growing relationship.

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Alcohol Use, Making Out, Semi-Nudity (People in their underwear), Mentions of Parental Death, Mentions of Trauma related to car accidents.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs!

Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @teacupsandtopgun @loveatfirsttornado

The plane’s wheels hit the tarmac with a gentle thud, and Glen exhaled a relieved breath. The press tour for Twisters had been exhausting, and though he loved his job, there was something about having a few weeks off that helped him relax. He had a few meetings or appearances here or there, but for the most part, he had two weeks to just enjoy some time off before he started filming his next project. The soft hum of the plane’s engines slowly faded as he made his way through the airport, his body feeling the weight of the past week of travel and interviews.

As soon as he stepped outside the terminal, the cool evening air greeted him, and without hesitation, he pulled out his phone, dialed Gabby’s number, and waited for the call to connect.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said when she answered, his voice low and familiar, a hint of excitement in it. “I just landed.”

"Hey," she responded, her voice a little breathless, as though she'd been holding on to the phone for this exact moment. "Welcome back!"

"Thanks. I’m so ready to see you. What are you up to tonight?"

Gabby hesitated, glancing over at Tanner and Kayla, who were chatting at the table. They were at The Backdoor Lounge, a trendy bar a few blocks from her apartment. It had been their usual spot lately, a place to unwind and talk about life. Gabby didn’t want to assume they would be okay with Glen wanting to crash their night, so she muted the phone briefly.

“Hey,” she said, leaning closer to Tanner and Kayla. “Do you guys mind if a friend stops by?”

Tanner raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smile. “Is it Glen?”

Gabby couldn’t help but grin. She nodded. “Yeah, he just landed and wants to see me.”

Kayla let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, tell him to hurry up.”

Gabby laughed and unmuted the call, her heart already racing at the thought of seeing Glen again.

“Sorry about that,” she said into the phone. “So, Tanner and Kayla are cool with it. I’ll send you the address.”

Glen’s voice was warm, and he smiled as he replied, “Of course, I’ll be there soon.”

Gabby sent the address to him, her excitement building.

“On my way,” Glen said, before hanging up.

Gabby pocketed her phone, a happy smile on her lips. “He’ll be here soon,” she told Tanner and Kayla.

Kayla winked. “We knew it was only a matter of time.” Tanner chuckled and raised his glass.

Gabby rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the grin that tugged at her lips. She felt her pulse quicken with anticipation, eager to spend time with Glen after a week of separation. As she settled back into her seat, she couldn’t help but feel like everything was aligning just the way it should.

Glen pushed open the door to The Backdoor Lounge, the familiar low hum of chatter and clinking glasses washing over him. It didn’t take long for his eyes to scan the room, easily picking out Tanner and Kayla near the back booth. He gave them a nod as he walked toward them, but his gaze immediately shifted when he realized Gabby wasn’t with them.

Tanner, catching his confusion, shot him a knowing grin and nodded toward the bar where Gabby stood. She was waiting for the bartender to notice her, tapping her fingers lightly on the counter, looking perfectly at ease in her surroundings.

Glen smiled to himself, feeling a rush of affection.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Gabby didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The warmth in the voice was unmistakable. She smiled, her heart doing a little flip in her chest, and turned to face him.

The moment their eyes met, her face lit up in that way it always did when she saw him. It was as though all the time and distance between them vanished in an instant. She reached out without thinking, pulling him into a hug, one that was just the right balance of familiarity and affection—not too much to stand out, but enough to make her feel his presence.

Glen returned the hug immediately, enveloping her in his arms and pressing a brief, soft kiss to her cheek. The gesture was warm and intimate, but he pulled away just as quickly, not wanting to linger too long in case any fans had noticed him. His eyes softened as he met her gaze again.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice gentle but full of warmth.

“I’m good,” Gabby replied, her smile still lingering from the hug. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, feeling both giddy and grounded by the simplicity of the moment. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Same here,” Glen said, his eyes brightening. “I missed you.”

Gabby laughed softly, looking at him with a mix of fondness and teasing. “Missed me? You saw me less than a week ago.”

“I know,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it feels like longer. You’ve kind of got me hooked on these little moments.”

Gabby’s smile deepened, feeling her cheeks warm at the compliment. She turned back to the bartender, signaling for a drink. “Well, now that you’re here, I think I’ll have something stronger than water.”

Glen raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “I like the sound of that.”

They shared a knowing look before Glen leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “So, what are we drinking tonight?”

That sounds like a great continuation! Here's how you could transition the scene with Gabby and Glen heading over to join Tanner and Kayla:

After Gabby and Glen ordered their drinks, they made their way over to the table where Tanner and Kayla were waiting. Tanner looked up first, his face lighting up when he saw Glen approaching. He stood and extended a hand with a friendly grin.

“Good to see you, man,” Tanner said as they shook hands, the greeting firm and easy. But before Glen could pull away, Tanner pulled him in for a quick hug, slapping him on the back as they broke apart.

“Good to see you, too,” Glen said, smiling at the warmth of the greeting.

Next, Glen turned to Kayla, who was sitting next to Tanner, her smile wide as she waved him over.

“You, too,” Glen said, leaning in for a quick hug with her.

Glen pulled back and took the empty seat next to Gabby at the table. Gabby made space for him as he slid onto the barstool, giving him a light smile as she took a sip of her drink. Glen could feel the warmth of her presence beside him, and it was a comfortable feeling. They fell into easy conversation as Tanner and Kayla caught him up on the latest gossip in their lives—nothing too heavy, just the little things that made life feel full.

Glen joined in, joking and laughing along, but as always, his attention kept returning to Gabby. When their eyes met for a brief second, he could see the quiet happiness in her expression. He couldn’t help but smile. Tonight felt right, and he was exactly where he wanted to be.

A couple of hours passed, and the lively chatter at the table began to settle. The bar was still buzzing with energy, but it was clear the night was winding down for their group. Tanner and Kayla glanced at each other, then stood up from their seats.

“Alright, we’re gonna head out,” Tanner announced, giving Gabby a friendly smile. “We’ll catch up later, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Gabby agreed, already standing up. “Thanks for a fun night, you guys.”

Kayla gave her a teasing grin. “Yeah, just don’t let him steal you away from us too often,” she added with a wink at Glen.

Glen chuckled. “I’ll try to share her,” he said, the easy camaraderie between them helping put Gabby at ease.

As Tanner and Kayla made their way toward the exit, Tanner turned to Gabby one last time. “Need a ride home, Gab?”

Gabby shook her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nah, I walked. It’s only a few blocks,” she replied, already feeling the cool evening air starting to settle in as she grabbed her purse.

Before she could finish, Glen spoke up, his voice warm and casual. “I’ll walk her home.”

Gabby turned to him, surprised but pleased. “Are you sure? It’s not far at all.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Glen said with a smile, holding the door open for her. “I don’t mind. We can make it a little night walk.”

Gabby met his gaze and, without hesitation, nodded. “Alright. I’d like that.”

She smiled as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the cool night air mixing with the warmth of the quiet buzz of the evening. It was just the two of them now, and the familiarity of being with Glen, the ease of it all, made Gabby feel a little lighter as they began walking down the street together.

As they walked side by side, the evening air cool against their skin, Gabby glanced over at Glen. “So, where’s your car?” she asked, a little curious.

Glen glanced at her, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I dropped it off at my place earlier when I went home to change. Decided to get an Uber here instead.” He paused, shrugging casually. “I figured I’d probably have more than one drink, so better safe than sorry.”

Gabby raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming on her lips. “Smart.”

The two of them walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, before Gabby broke it again. “How was New York?” she asked, glancing at him. “You were there for press stuff, right?”

“Yeah, a lot of talk shows, some interviews, that kind of thing. It's a lot of repeating the same questions and answers over and over.” He let out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “But it's always nice when I get to meet the fans after the screenings. That’s the best part, really.”

Gabby smiled at the thought of him being appreciated for his work. “I can imagine. How did it go? The movie?”

“Good. Really good. It’s been crazy, but... well, you know how it is.” He shrugged lightly, but she could see the pride in his eyes. “It feels good to have it out there finally. People seem to be really enjoying it.”

Gabby nodded, genuinely happy for him. “You deserve it. You've worked so hard for all of this.”

“Thanks.” He looked over at her, his expression softening. “And how about you? How’s the whole getting settled in Los Angeles thing going?”

Gabby sighed, smiling a little sheepishly. “Well, I’m starting to feel like I’ve got the hang of it. I mean, I’m still figuring things out. Still have some boxes I haven’t unpacked.” She laughed lightly. “But I like it here. Feels like a place I can... breathe.”

Glen nodded in understanding. “I get that. It's a lot at first, but you'll find your rhythm. You already seem to be doing well.”

Gabby looked over at him, the genuine encouragement in his voice making her smile. “I’m trying. I’m lucky I have good friends here, and... well, you. It helps.”

Glen grinned, his eyes flickering with something warm as he glanced down at her. “I’m always happy to be part of the good things.”

As they walked, their conversation shifted effortlessly from one topic to the next. It felt easy, natural—just the two of them, walking together, getting to know each other better, even in the quiet moments.

Gabby unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing Glen to follow her into the apartment. The familiar warmth of her space greeted her, but it felt different with him here. She kicked off her shoes by the door, her mind still lingering on their quiet walk as Glen closed the door behind him.

As soon as the lock clicked, Glen turned towards her, a smile tugging at his lips. His eyes softened with something that felt almost private, as though they were the only two people in the world right now.

“You’ve got no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he said softly, his voice low and sincere. He stepped towards her, his hands moving naturally to her waist. His touch was warm, a contrast to the cool air outside.

Gabby’s heart skipped a beat, her chest tightening as she looked up at him. “I missed you too,” she whispered, her words feeling more intimate than she expected.

Before she could say anything else, Glen leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. His lips brushed hers in a tender, slow kiss, his hands gently pulling her closer. It was simple, a soft and sweet moment that felt like the world had slowed down.

But as the seconds passed, the kiss deepened, growing more urgent. Glen’s hands slid up her back, tugging her closer as if he couldn’t quite get close enough. His lips parted and, without thinking, Gabby responded, her own hands reaching up to touch his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath her fingertips.

His kiss deepened further, almost hungry now, as he pulled her in, pressing her body closer to his.

Glen reluctantly pulled away from her lips, his breath coming in shallow, unsteady breaths. For a moment, his eyes locked on hers, his gaze searching, as if asking for permission without saying the words. But the longing he saw mirrored in her eyes gave him no reason to hold back.

His lips trailed down the side of her jaw, his mouth warm against her skin as he pressed soft kisses along her neck. The feeling of her so close, the absence of her touch for the past week, overwhelmed him in the best way. His hands slipped around her back, pulling her flush against him.

He didn’t want to be this eager, especially so early in their relationship. They hadn’t really discussed intimacy or what they were both comfortable with. He didn’t want to make her feel pressured. But the soft sigh that escaped her lips, the way her hands found their way to the back of his neck, kept him moving.

He pulled away from the kiss, his lips finding the curve of her neck, trailing lower as he kissed her skin gently. The heat between them was undeniable now, but Glen remained cautious, not wanting to cross any lines they hadn’t yet talked about. He pulled back slightly, giving her space, his forehead resting against hers.

Glen pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, but his eyes still filled with desire. “I don’t want to rush anything,” he whispered, his voice low and hesitant. “I just—”

Before he could finish his thought, Gabby reached up and pressed her lips to his, cutting off his words. The kiss was soft, but there was a sense of urgency in it, a silent understanding between them. She pulled back, her hands resting on his chest as she looked up at him with a quiet intensity in her eyes.

“I want this too,” she whispered, her voice thick with sincerity.

His smile was immediate, a sense of relief washing over him, followed by a rush of warmth. He couldn’t help but smile wider as he leaned in to kiss her again, the kiss this time more confident, more certain.

His arm wrapped around her back, pulling her close. With a swift movement, he lifted her into his arms, feeling her body relax against his, the weight of her trust making him feel stronger than ever. He paused, pulling away just enough to look at her, making sure she was okay.

Gabby’s gaze met his, her hands resting on his shoulders, a soft smile playing at her lips. “Bedroom?” she asked, her voice gentle but sure.

A small laugh escaped Glen, his heart beating just a little faster. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little breathless with anticipation.

He began to carry her toward the bedroom, taking careful steps, still holding her close. The connection between them was undeniable, and the energy in the air was electric. Gabby’s arms tightened around his neck, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe.

When they reached the doorway of her bedroom, he paused, looking down at her once more. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice sincere, wanting to make sure this was truly what she wanted.

Gabby nodded, her eyes shining with quiet certainty. “I’m sure.”

With that, Glen stepped into the room, closing the door behind them, as he gently set her down on the bed. The moment felt both tender and charged with the weight of what was to come and they both seemed to know that whatever happened next, they were in this together.

As the quiet intimacy of the moment enveloped them, Glen’s hands gently moved to the hem of Gabby’s shirt. His fingers brushed against her skin as he began to lift it, pausing midway to meet her eyes.

“You good?” he asked softly, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability.

Gabby nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He slid the fabric up and over her head, tossing it gently onto a nearby chair before letting his gaze travel over her. The way he looked at her wasn’t rushed or predatory; it was as though he was taking her in, appreciating her fully. His hands rested lightly on her waist, his thumbs brushing against her skin in soothing circles.

As he began to reach for the button of her jeans, Gabby let out a small, nervous laugh.

“What?” he asked, stopping immediately, his brows knitting with concern.

She shook her head, a playful smile creeping onto her lips. “You’re not real.”

Glen blinked, his expression softening into a bemused smile. “What do you mean?”

Gabby bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before explaining. “I’ve just… I’ve never had a guy check in this much. It’s like you actually care how I’m feeling or something.”

For a moment, Glen just looked at her, his smile widening into something warm and confident. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“Well,” he said, his voice dropping into a smooth, teasing tone, “sounds like you haven’t been with a real man yet.”

Gabby let out a soft laugh, her cheeks flushing as her arms looped around his neck. “Oh, is that what you are?” she teased back, her voice matching his playful tone.

“Guess you’ll have to let me show you,” he murmured, brushing another kiss across her lips, this one slower and deeper. “Then you can tell me.”

As the kiss continued, Glen’s hands moved with deliberate care, helping her out of her jeans and easing her back onto the bed. Every motion was unhurried, his touch reverent, as though he wanted to make sure she felt nothing but safe and cherished in his hands.

“You’re gorgeous, baby,” he whispered against her skin, his voice tinged with awe as his lips trailed softly along her collarbone.

Gabby felt her breath hitch, her fingers threading into his hair as her heart pounded against her ribcage. She didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky, but in that moment, with Glen’s careful attention and steady presence, she felt like the most treasured person in the world.

Glen leaned back slightly, breaking the kiss as his hands moved to the hem of his own shirt. With a quick, fluid motion, he pulled it over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and shoulders. Gabby couldn’t help but let her gaze wander, taking in the sight of him.

Her breath hitched, and she felt her cheeks warm, but before she could say anything, Glen gave her a small, knowing smile. “What? You staring?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, biting her lip to suppress a grin.

He chuckled softly, his confidence shining through without tipping into arrogance. “Good. I like it when you look at me like that.”

Still holding her gaze, he slid off the bed and reached for the buckle of his belt, undoing it with ease. His movements were steady, unhurried, as if he wanted to savor the moment. The sound of the belt sliding free and the soft rustle of denim followed as he kicked off his jeans, leaving him in just a pair of fitted black boxer briefs.

Gabby swallowed hard, her eyes involuntarily drawn to him. “Not fair,” she said with a playful pout, trying to keep her composure despite the butterflies swirling in her stomach.

“Not fair?” Glen asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped closer, his hands resting on the edge of the bed.

“You’re… distracting,” she said with a shy laugh, gesturing toward him.

He smirked, leaning down so they were eye level. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re the most distracting person I’ve ever met.” His voice was low and teasing, but the sincerity in his eyes made her heart skip a beat.

Gabby felt her pulse quicken as Glen climbed back onto the bed, settling beside her. His hands slid gently along her waist, pulling her closer as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the earlier playfulness giving way to tenderness.

She nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over his shoulder. “More than okay.”

Glen smiled, brushing his lips across hers in another kiss, one that carried all the unspoken promises of what was to come.

Glen leaned down to kiss her again, slow and deliberate, as though savoring every moment. But just as things started to intensify, he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His hand smoothed along her side, and his gaze met hers with a flicker of concern.

“Gabby,” he started softly, his voice a little husky but steady, “I… don’t have anything with me. No condom or protection. I didn’t plan for this, and I don’t want to assume anything.”

She appreciated his honesty, and the gentle restraint in his words made her chest tighten in a good way. He sat back slightly, giving her space as his thumb brushed against her hip in a soothing motion.

“We can stop,” he said firmly, though the warmth in his eyes didn’t waver. “I mean it. I want this to be about you, not just… the moment.”

Gabby blinked up at him, her mind racing. She could see the sincerity in his expression, the way he was prioritizing her over everything else.

She swallowed and nodded, sitting up slightly against the pillows. “I’m clean,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And… I have an IUD.”

His brows lifted slightly, surprised by her openness, but he stayed quiet, letting her continue.

“But,” she said after a pause, her gaze dropping to her hands resting on his chest, “I’m not sure I’m ready for… that. Bare, I mean. Even if I know you’re clean.”

Glen exhaled softly and nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I am clean, baby. But I get it,” he said without hesitation, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’ll never push you.”

The tenderness in his voice made her heart ache in the best way. Gabby smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, slow and grateful.

“Thank you for being so…” She trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Patient? Responsible? Absolutely crazy about you?” he teased, his smirk returning, though it was softened by the warmth in his tone.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “All of the above.”

Glen chuckled, pulling her closer into his arms, their earlier urgency now replaced with a comforting intimacy. “I’ll always wait for you, Gabby,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re ready, you just tell me.”

Glen leaned back slightly, his hand still resting gently on her side, his thumb brushing against her skin in a comforting rhythm. He gave her a small smile, his eyes warm and full of understanding. “Let me grab us a blanket,” he murmured softly, leaning over to the edge of the bed.

He reached for the throw blanket folded at the foot and pulled it over them, cocooning them both in its warmth. Gabby shifted, curling up against him, her head resting on his shoulder as her arm draped across his chest. Glen adjusted slightly, lying on his back to give her room to nestle closer, his arm naturally wrapping around her and pulling her against him.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breaths and the faint hum of the city beyond her window. Glen’s fingers started tracing slow, soothing patterns along her arm, the gesture grounding and intimate without feeling heavy.

“You okay?” he asked after a beat, his voice low and steady.

Gabby tilted her head up to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving her lips. “Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “More than okay. Thank you, Glen.”

“For what?” he asked, his brows knitting slightly as his thumb continued its gentle path over her skin.

“For… this. For being patient, for listening, for making me feel safe,” she admitted. “It’s just… really nice.”

Glen’s hand paused briefly before he tilted his head down to press a tender kiss to the top of her hair. “You deserve to feel that way, Gabby. Always.”

She smiled against his chest, letting his words settle over her like the warmth of the blanket they shared. After a moment, she spoke again, her tone lighter this time. “So, tell me more about New York. What was the craziest thing that happened while you were there?”

Glen chuckled softly, the tension from earlier melting into a new rhythm between them. “Oh, that’s easy. The hotel had this wild mix-up, and I ended up getting someone else’s room service—twice. Apparently, someone on the floor above me had a thing for caviar and champagne at midnight. But what about your week?”

Gabby’s voice was soft and steady as she recounted a story about her first few days in Los Angeles. She started to recount her story of getting lost during a walk she had taken.

“And then I got lost on the way to this… uh… this coffee shop I wanted to try,” she murmured, her words slowing as her body relaxed further against Glen. “I ended up walking in circles for like… twenty minutes…” Her sentence trailed off, her voice growing faint as her head rested more heavily against his chest.

Glen glanced down, his lips twitching into a gentle smile as he watched her fight the sleep creeping in. Her fingers, which had been lightly tracing absent shapes on his chest, had stilled completely.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Glen asked softly, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Mm, no,” she protested weakly, her words slurred. Her eyelids fluttered open for a brief moment before closing again.

Glen chuckled, his hand brushing lightly over her arm. “Gabby, get some sleep.”

She shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent before tilting her head up just enough to murmur, “Are you gonna stay?”

The question caught him off guard for a split second, and he paused, considering her words. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly, his voice steady and warm.

She nodded sleepily, her forehead brushing against his collarbone. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Glen’s heart softened at the vulnerability in her answer, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “Then I’ll stay,” he said quietly, his tone firm with reassurance.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, and she nestled closer to him, her body molding perfectly against his side.

“Sweet dreams, Gabby,” Glen urged softly, his hand resuming its slow, soothing path along her arm.

This time, she didn’t resist. Her breathing evened out within moments, and Glen stayed exactly where he was, holding her close and watching over her as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

* * * *

Gabby stirred as the sound of a phone ringing cut through the quiet of the morning. Her mind was groggy, and it took her a moment to register that it wasn’t her phone. She blinked her eyes open, noticing the faint light filtering through the curtains and the cozy warmth against her back. Glen’s chest was pressed to her, his arm loosely draped over her waist, holding her close in their sleep.

Glen groaned behind her, his voice still husky with sleep. "Ugh... who’s calling this early?"

Gabby turned her head slightly to glance at him, her voice soft. "Maybe you should check?"

He let out a resigned sigh, his arm slipping away as he rolled onto his back and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. Squinting at the screen, he groaned again, this time more dramatically.

Before Gabby could ask any questions, Glen slid his thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice laced with sleepy affection.

Gabby, suddenly aware of their intimate position, turned onto her back and pulled the blanket higher around her, a small smile playing on her lips as she listened to his side of the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m up,” Glen said, rubbing his hand over his face as he spoke. “What’s up?”

There was a pause, and Gabby noticed his lips twitch into a small smile.

“No, just at a friend’s place,” he said vaguely, his gaze flickering toward her for a brief second before he looked away again, clearly trying to avoid letting anything slip. Another pause, and then he let out a quiet laugh. “No, nothing like that. I just needed a change of scenery.”

Gabby bit her lip, trying not to smile at his attempts to sidestep his mom’s curiosity.

“Listen, Mom, I’ll call you back later, okay?” Glen said after a moment, his tone affectionate but firm. “Yeah, I promise. Love you too.”

Glen ended the call and let his phone drop onto the pillow beside him. He tilted his head to look at Gabby, who was watching him with a bemused expression.

“Your mom sounds sweet,” she teased, propping herself up on her elbow.

“She is,” Glen said with a faint smile. “But sweet and nosy aren’t mutually exclusive when it comes to her.” He shifted onto his side again, propping his head on his hand as he looked at her. “Sorry for the wake-up call.”

“I don’t mind,” Gabby replied, her voice warm. “It was worth it to see you squirm a little.”

He chuckled, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Oh, you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe just a little,” she admitted, her eyes sparkling.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “What do you say I make us breakfast to make up for it?”

Gabby laughed as she sat up, wrapping the blanket around herself. “Alright, show me what you’ve got, Mr. Movie Star.”

Glen sat up and then got out of bed. He stood at the edge of the bed, pulling his jeans back on and fastening his belt. The soft fabric of the white undershirt he’d worn the night before stretched over his torso, clinging just enough to remind Gabby of how unfairly good he looked even in the simplest clothing.

“You’re staring,” Glen teased, catching her gaze as he straightened up.

“Am not,” Gabby shot back with a playful smirk, slipping out of bed herself. She grabbed a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of leggings from her closet, quickly pulling them on before turning to face him. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Glen chuckled, his voice warm as he motioned toward the door. “Come on. Let’s see what kind of breakfast magic I can whip up in your kitchen.”

“Magic, huh?” Gabby replied as she followed him out of the bedroom.

They made their way to the kitchen, the early morning light filtering through the windows and casting a soft glow on the small space. Gabby slid onto one of the stools at the island, tucking her legs beneath her as she watched Glen take in his surroundings. He stepped toward the fridge, opening it and scanning its contents with a thoughtful expression.

“Let’s see...” he murmured, rummaging around. “Eggs, butter... and not much else.”

“I don’t really do breakfast,” Gabby admitted, resting her chin in her palm.

“Clearly,” Glen said with a grin, moving to inspect the cupboards. “But you do have bread. Eggs and toast it is.”

“Fancy,” she teased.

“Hey, don’t underestimate the classics,” he shot back, grabbing the carton of eggs and a loaf of bread. He set them on the counter before opening another cupboard in search of a pan. Gabby watched him move around the kitchen, his ease and confidence making her smile.

“You look way too comfortable in my kitchen,” she remarked.

Glen glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What can I say? I’m a natural. Now, do you have a toaster, or am I going to have to MacGyver this?”

Gabby laughed, leaning forward to point to a cabinet. “Top shelf. And there’s a frying pan in the drawer under the stove.”

“Thanks,” Glen said, retrieving the toaster and pan.

She rolled her eyes, but her grin didn’t falter as she watched him plug in the toaster and set the bread aside. A comfortable silence fell between them as he cracked a couple of eggs into the pan, the sizzle filling the kitchen. His movements were fluid and precise, and Gabby found herself mesmerized by the simple act of him cooking.

“Do you cook often?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Whenever I have time,” Glen replied, glancing at her. “It’s nice to do something simple every now and then, you know? Plus, I enjoy getting to do it when I can.”

Gabby rested her chin in her hand again, a soft smile on her lips. For someone she’d only been seeing for a week officially and only known for a few weeks before that, Glen already felt like he belonged in her space, like he fit perfectly into the rhythm of her life. The thought was both comforting and a little terrifying, but she chose to focus on the comforting part for now.

When the toast popped up, Glen plated it alongside the eggs and set the dish in front of her with a mock bow. “Your breakfast, m’lady.”

“Why, thank you,” Gabby said with exaggerated politeness, taking a bite. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Okay, I’ll admit it—this is actually really good.”

“I told you I’m a natural,” Glen said, leaning against the counter with a smug grin.

Glen slid onto the stool next to Gabby, his plate in hand, and set it down on the island. Their elbows brushed as he settled in, but neither of them moved away. Gabby couldn’t help but smile as they started eating, the warmth of the morning and his presence making her feel unusually light.

“So,” she said between bites, “do you always cook breakfast for women you’ve only dated for a week?”

Glen smirked, taking a bite of his toast. “Only the ones who let me spend the night.”

Their laughter filled the small kitchen, the kind that came effortlessly when two people were completely at ease with each other. Glen glanced at her, his smile softening as he leaned back slightly on his stool.

“This is nice,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter. “I don’t remember the last time I just sat and had breakfast with someone like this.”

Gabby tilted her head, curious. “What do you mean?”

“My life lately has been go, go, go,” he explained, gesturing vaguely with his fork. “Mornings are usually rushed, grabbing a bagel and coffee and eating it in the car on the way to the first appearance of the day. There hasn’t been a lot of time for, you know, this. Just sitting, talking.”

Gabby nodded, taking another bite of her eggs. “I get that. Life in L.A. can be the same way. Everyone’s always in a rush to get somewhere or do something. But growing up, my family made a point of sitting down for meals together. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—you name it.”

“That sounds nice,” Glen said, his tone thoughtful.

She looked at him curiously. “What’s your family like?”

Glen smiled, a mix of fondness and amusement crossing his face. “Chaotic, mostly. I have two sisters, so our house was always loud. Someone was always yelling, singing, that kind of thing. My mom used to say we were the reasons she started getting gray hair so young.”

Gabby laughed, picturing a younger Glen in the middle of the chaos. “I can see that. So, you’re the youngest? The baby of the family?”

Glen shook his head. “Middle child. Lauren is older than me, and then Leslies younger than me.”

“Ah, the only boy and the middle child. So you’re the forgotten child.” Gabby smirked.

“Nope,” Glen said, popping the “p” as he grinned. “Hard to get forgotten when you’re the favorite.”

“Oh, you were the favorite, huh?” Gabby teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” Glen said with mock seriousness. “Just don’t tell my sisters I said that. They’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Gabby shook her head, laughing softly. “You sound like you had a fun childhood.”

“Yeah, I did,” he admitted, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. “My mom’s the heart of the family, though. She kept us all together, even when my dad was busy with work. She’s the kind of mom who would pack our lunches with little notes in them, even when we were in high school.”

Gabby’s smile softened. “She sounds wonderful.”

“She is,” Glen said, his expression warm. “What about your family? You said you guys always ate meals together. Were you close?”

Gabby smiled softly as she set her fork down, leaning back slightly against the stool. “Growing up as an only child was... quiet, I guess,” she said. “It was just me, my mom, and my dad. They always made time for me, though. Family dinners, movie nights, board games—I think they wanted to make sure I didn’t feel lonely, since I didn’t have siblings.”

Glen nodded as he finished a bite of his toast. “Sounds like they were great parents.”

“They were,” Gabby said, her smile widening at the memory. “My mom was the kind of person who could light up a room just by walking into it. She was funny, warm, and always had this way of making people feel seen, you know? And my dad... he’s quieter, more reserved, but he’s the most dependable person I know. He’d move mountains for the people he loves.”

Glen listened intently, his eyes fixed on her as she spoke. There was a light in her expression, a glow when she talked about her family.

“It sounds like they raised you right,” Glen said, his voice gentle.

Gabby chuckled softly. “I like to think so. I mean, they had their moments. My mom could be overprotective, and my dad... well, he’d let me get away with things if I batted my eyelashes at him just right. But they balanced each other out.” Her words hung in the air for a moment, and without thinking, she added, “Now it’s just me and my dad.”

As soon as the words left her lips, Gabby froze. Her breath caught, and her eyes widened slightly as if she could somehow pull the words back. She hadn’t meant to say that—not to Glen, not to anyone. Talking about her mom wasn’t something she did often, not because she didn’t think about her but because it was too painful to relive.

Glen caught the brief flicker of hesitation in her expression. He set his fork down and leaned slightly closer, his tone soft but careful. “Gabby?”

Her gaze dropped to the plate in front of her, and she swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to say it out loud, to explain something so deeply personal. But when she glanced at Glen, his expression wasn’t prying or demanding. He was just... there. Gentle.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready,” Glen added quickly, sensing her hesitation. “I get it. No pressure.”

Gabby took a deep breath, her fingers playing with the edge of her napkin. “No, it’s okay,” she said quietly, though her voice trembled slightly. “It’s just... I don’t usually talk about her. About what happened.”

Glen didn’t say anything, just gave her the space she needed. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against her knee. The small touch was grounding, reassuring.

“She died when I was nineteen,” Gabby began, her voice just above a whisper. “She was on her way home from work. It was late, and... and a drunk driver ran a red light. He hit her car and killed her instantly.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Gabby could feel the tightness in her chest as the memories surfaced. She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry.

Glen’s hand moved to her back, his palm warm and steady as he rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades.

“Gabby, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, his voice thick with genuine empathy.

“It was so sudden,” Gabby continued, her gaze distant now. “One minute, she was there, and the next... she wasn’t. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. Glen’s hand never stopped its soothing motion on her back, his presence grounding her in the moment.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been,” Glen said after a moment. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Gabby glanced at him, her lips trembling as she tried to muster a small smile. “It’s been years, but some days it still feels fresh, like it just happened. My dad and I... we’ve learned to manage, but there’s always this... hole, you know?”

Glen nodded, his hand slipping from her back to cover hers on the counter. “Yeah. A loss like that doesn’t just go away. But it sounds like you and your dad have each other, and that’s something.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening slightly under his. “We do. He’s been amazing, honestly. I don’t know how he held it together for me when I know he was hurting just as much.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a pretty incredible dad,” Glen said, offering her a soft smile.

“I do,” Gabby agreed, her voice steadier now. “I’m lucky to have him.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. If anything, it felt safe—like Gabby had shared something she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying for too long, and Glen had handled it with the kind of care she hadn’t expected.

Glen squeezed her hand gently. “Thanks for telling me,” he said softly.

Gabby looked at him, her eyes meeting his. “Thanks for listening.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “Anytime.”

Gabby felt a small warmth spread through her chest, the heaviness from earlier lifting slightly. It wasn’t often she opened up about her mom, but somehow, with Glen, it felt... okay.

Gabby took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she sat back in her stool. Glen’s hand lingered on hers for a moment longer before he pulled back, reaching for his fork again. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward—it was comforting, the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled.

She glanced at him as he took another bite of his eggs, his easy smile still in place, and felt a wave of gratitude. Somehow, Glen had a way of making her feel safe, like there was no judgment, no rush. Just understanding.

“Thanks for breakfast,” she said softly, picking up her own fork to finish the last few bites on her plate.

“Thanks for letting me raid your kitchen,” Glen replied with a grin, glancing over at her. “Not bad for throwing together what you had, huh?”

“Not bad at all,” she said with a small smile, her tone teasing. “I might have to keep you around if it means I don’t have to cook.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head. “Careful, Gabby. You keep complimenting me like that, and I might start getting a big head.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but the warmth in her expression lingered. “Oh, you think you don’t already?”

The two of them laughed, and Gabby felt the heaviness of their earlier conversation continue to lift. By the time they’d finished eating, her plate was clean, and her mood had lightened.

Glen stood first, collecting their plates and carrying them to the sink.

“Let me take care of this,” he said when she moved to follow.

“You don’t have to—”

“Sit,” he interrupted gently, turning to give her a look that brooked no argument. “You let me stay the night and provided the food. Let me do this part.”

Gabby sat back down with a small shake of her head, watching as he rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. The domesticity of the moment wasn’t lost on her, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

When Glen turned back around, wiping his hands on a towel, he caught the look on her face. “What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” she said, shrugging lightly. “I just... It’s been a long time since I’ve had a morning like this.”

“Like what?”

“Just... easy,” she said, gesturing between them. “Good conversation, good company. It’s nice.”

Glen’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, leaning his hands on the counter across from her. “I’d say the same,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the quiet intimacy of the morning wrapping around them like a blanket. Gabby felt her cheeks warm slightly, but she didn’t look away.

Eventually, Glen straightened and checked the time on his phone. “Well,” he said, his tone light, “I should probably get going before your neighbors start wondering who the guy in last night’s jeans is.”

Gabby laughed, rolling her eyes. “Pretty sure my neighbors have better things to do than spy on me.”

“Still,” Glen said, grabbing his jacket from where he’d draped it over a chair, “I should head out. But...” He paused, glancing at her, his expression suddenly serious. “Thanks for letting me stay last night. For letting me... be here. I mean it.”

Gabby nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Thanks for staying.”

Glen hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but instead, he leaned down and pressed a quick, warm kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft.

And with that, he headed for the door, leaving Gabby standing in the kitchen with a smile on her face and a warmth in her chest that hadn’t been there before.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell Series #Glen Powell x OC #Glen Powell x Original Character

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