#Baking Pastry Tools

[mintflavoredcookie]

[ID: Two traditional drawings with Cookie Run Kingdom characters. The first one shows Reverend Mother and Dark Enchantress Cookie back to back, seeminly speaking to someone off-screen. Under them, it reads "You force those around you to live by your rules". The second drawing shows Pastry cookie and Red Velvet, also back to back, holding resentful expressions. Above and under them reads "You use and abuse us like we're all your tools", with tools written in red. The two drawings have a red background. End ID.]

Tool by Derivakat fits so much with these two, especially in the context of Double Runaway AU(i swear i havent abandoned it)

Talking about DR au, heres a doodle of them while i work on some references.

[ID: A drawing in pen and highlighters showing Pastry Cookie and Red Velvet Cookie, with Chiffon the cakehound and Pastry's bird near them. Red Velvet is holding a map while Pastry leans towards him to see it. Over them is written "have been lost for 2 hours". End ID.]

[hiraethwrote]

contents : f!reader, stressed and overworked satoru, pretty much pure fluff, profanity, baking, somewhat proofread, no use of y/n wc <1k an : happy birthday to the loml <3 that's it... that's the post

This was the last thing Satoru needed right now.

It had been a long day — much like most mornings, he had to carefully wiggle out of your grip in your shared bed to head to work, only to have the higher ups ride his neck from dawn until dusk. And today, for some reason, his students had decided to be particularly difficult, arguing on whatever he said.

Maybe he was just more short tempered than normal today, as he had a perfect vision of how he wanted the day to go — lazy morning, slowly waking up next to you as you’re nothing but tangled limbs, have a share breakfast, then do absolutely nothing of importance while graced with your company. Was that too much to ask for his birthday?

Seemed like it.

And what greets him first when he enters your apartment isn’t your warm embrace — no, instead it’s the scenery of his home looking like a complete mess before a frustrated groan is heard, followed by a loud “fuck, just work god dammit”.

He wanted to relax, rot on the couch with you pressed up against him before sleep eventually trapped you in oblivion and he could carry you into the bedroom where he could fall asleep next to you.

Instead, something is wrong — he doesn’t need to see it to know. His entire body feels it when something’s off with you, and he won’t be able to rest until he knows you’re at peace with whatever is causing you trouble.

“Piece of shit machinery,” he hears you say as he turns the corner to enter the kitchen. And though the scene is a mess, it’s a whole different mess than what he expects to see. “Ten thousand yen for this not to do its fucking job,” you say through gritted teeth.

Satoru lets his eyes roam every corner of the kitchen. There’s bowls and tools everywhere, flour covering the floor, some semi successful attempts of pastries on the table — there’s even what he suspects to be cake batter travelling up the walls, wondering how the hell you managed to do that.

“What’s this?” he breaths in confusion, your frame jumping at the sudden sound of his voice.

“Satoru!” You groan as you turn to face him. “No! You’re not supposed to be home yet,” you clap your hands to dust off the access flour.

If it was even possible, you were more of a mess than your surroundings. Your apron had definitely seen better days, frosting speared across your cheek and your hair tied up in a… birds nest was probably the best description.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” it came out nearly like a cry as your hands came flying to cover your face before dragging them through your hair, leaving white flour in its trail. “I wanted to do this for you! I mean, all that you do for me, especially with your busy schedule. Then I couldn’t make up my mind on what to make, because let’s admit it, sweet is your favourite flavour. So I thought, hey let’s just make them all. You deserve it after all, but then the damn machine decided to be a little bitch. I just wanted to do something special for your birthday-“

Your rambling is cut short as Satoru captures your rambling pout in a deep and passionate kiss, a hand on each side of your face. When he eventually pulls away, you’re left speechless and face flushed warm.

“My god, I love you,” he breathes, staring into your eyes with all the devotion he has for you, and it still doesn’t feel like he is able to do his feelings justice.

“It’s just cake, ‘Toru,” you say with a shy giggle. “Or more like four different halves of cake.”

“It’s about more than the cake.” His voice is low, nearly fragile, letting his thumb stroke tenderly across your cheek, never even daring to let his eyes leave yours.

Sure, it was just cake — but to him it was also the effort. The fact that you’d wanted to do this for him, specifically. The time, the work, the dedication — all things you didn’t owe him, but something you just wanted to do for him to show how much you loved him.

“But they didn’t even come out right-“

“I don’t care,” he smiled, leaning forward to press a soft peck on your nose before resting his forehead against yours. “It probably tastes amazing anyway.”

“Yeah, I used a shit ton of sugar,” carefully pulling away to look at his face.

He smirks again, thumb wiping away the frosting on your face before licking it off. “Hmm, think I gotta eat some to be sure.”

“Well, help yourself. They’re all for you after all,” you step away to gesture towards your creations on the dining table, his eyes immediately drawn to the chocolate cake with ‘happy birthday baby’ jankily written on top.

“Thank you,” he says softly, hand trailing down your arms to loosely grab ahold of your fingers. “I really love you, you know?”

“I know,” you smile in return and give his hand a squeeze. “I love you too.”

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[seospicybin]

NEPTUNE.

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: In a distant future where an app can predict your death, a retired dancer and an ambitious swimmer cross path by chance. With their final day looming, they choose to share it together, finding unexpected connection in the fleeting hours they have left. (19,6k words)

Author's note: With this fic, I hope that you get to realize that no matter how small your achievement is, it matters. You are matter. Happy new year, everyone! ❣

In the distant future, death isn’t a mystery. It’s an appointment.

It started with a breakthrough—an algorithm said to be so precise it could predict the exact day someone would die. Governments called it progress, a tool to manage the chaos of an overburdened planet. They named it Mortem. What they didn’t expect was how quickly the app would seep into the fabric of life.

People stopped planning for the long term. Relationships became fleeting, careers lost their permanence, and calendars filled with expiration dates. Death notifications became part of the noise—just another alert blinking alongside weather updates and dinner reservations.

But Mortem wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t tell you the when—only the day. That meant hours, minutes, or fleeting seconds could separate you from the end. For some, it was a mercy. For others, a torment.

Tonight, the city pulses with quiet tension, as it always does. Neon lights flicker against a backdrop of endless skyscrapers, their glass walls reflecting a future built on progress and control. Somewhere, phones buzz softly, notifying their owners of an unchangeable truth: Tomorrow is your last day.

For those who receive the message, there are choices to make. Will they cling to the comforts of routine, pretending the day ahead is like any other? Or will they seek something different—a chance to hold onto life for just a little longer?

Two strangers will soon find themselves asking that same question. Their lives have never crossed before, but by the time tomorrow ends, they will have shared something no one else can understand.

-

5:00 a.m.

The alarm pierces the early morning silence, jolting Hwang Hyunjin awake. With practiced ease, he silences it, sitting on the edge of his bed as he stretches his long arms. His back arches slightly, muscles awakening as he bends forward to gather his thoughts.

The world outside is still cloaked in darkness, but Hyunjin is already lacing up his running shoes. A quick double knot secures them before he presses play on his playlist, music flooding his ears and sharpening his focus.

The crisp, cool morning air greets him as he steps outside. It stings against his skin, but he welcomes it, inhaling deeply as he begins to run. His strides are steady, powerful, each one cutting against the wind. His long, dark hair bounces with the rhythm of his movement, dampened slightly by the early morning mist.

After completing his route, Hyunjin stops by his favorite bakery, where the warm aroma of freshly baked bread envelops him. He orders his usual: a selection of warm pastries and a steaming cup of coffee to go. Back at his apartment, he settles by the window, the city stirring to life beyond the glass. He takes slow bites of his breakfast, sipping his coffee as the first golden rays of sunlight paint the skyline.

It’s moments like this, quiet and unassuming, that he treasures most. They remind him of the beauty in simplicity, grounding him before the demands of the day.

By ten o’clock, Hyunjin arrives at the training center, his focus razor-sharp. He begins with a grueling gym session, pushing his limits to strengthen his arms and back. The burn in his muscles is a familiar companion, one he embraces with resolve. Sweat drips down his chin as he finishes his final set, his determination unwavering.

But this is only the beginning.

Hyunjin steps into the aquatic center, the sharp scent of chlorine filling his lungs. In the locker room, he changes into a sleek pair of swimming briefs.

"How are you feeling, my man?" A friendly pat on his back pulls him from his thoughts.

"Excellent," he replies confidently, catching his reflection in the mirror as he adjusts his swim cap. His friend's grin widens, sensing the energy radiating off him.

"What's your current record?"

"For the 100 or the 200 medley?" Hyunjin asks, slipping the last strands of his hair beneath the cap."You know which one I'm asking."

"47.12." A proud smile curves his lips.

"Bet you can take it to 46 today," his friend challenges, tossing his shoes into his locker.

The words hang in the air, lighting a spark in Hyunjin. He doesn’t need the push—he’s already determined—but the encouragement fuels his fire.

Hyunjin steps onto the pool deck, his reflection shimmering on the surface of the water. Memories of his younger self flicker in his mind, the boy who first discovered the joy of being in the water. Back then, it felt like another world—quiet, weightless, serene.

That love hasn’t faded.

He dips a hand into the pool, splashing the cold water onto the back of his neck. It’s a small ritual, an anchor before the dive. His goggles are snug against his face, a protective barrier between him and the world above.

Hyunjin climbs onto the starting block, his heart steady, his goal clear. He holds the current record in the 100-meter freestyle, but today isn’t about records or accolades. It’s about pushing himself to the edge, chasing a version of himself he’s yet to meet.

The whistle shrieks, and Hyunjin dives.

The water welcomes him, enveloping him in its familiar embrace. Each stroke propels him forward, every kick slicing through the resistance. His body moves in perfect harmony, years of training reducing the act to instinct.

To Hyunjin, the sky isn’t the limit—it’s just the beginning. And soon, he knows, he won’t just swim among the clouds. He’ll soar beyond them.

-

8:02 a.m.

The studio is quiet, save for the soft creak of polished wood beneath your bare feet. Sunlight streams through the high windows, casting long beams across the mirrored walls. You breathe in the familiar scent of resin and faintly worn leather, grounding yourself in this sacred space.

This is how you always start your mornings: alone, warming up in the quiet before the day begins. It’s a small luxury, one you’ve come to cherish in a world that feels anything but certain.

You stand in the center of the room, your reflection poised and still. Slowly, you move through the routine, arms lifting, legs extending, muscles lengthening with every step. The rhythm flows from memory—an old habit, a comfort that never falters.

Then, it happens.

A sharp ping breaks through the silence, echoing off the walls.

You freeze mid-pirouette, your balance wavering. Across the room, your phone sits on the bench, its screen lit up with a single notification. For a moment, you don’t move. It’s not unusual for your phone to chime—messages from parents, reminders for classes—but something about the sound feels heavier this time.

You exhale, lowering your arms. Whatever it is can wait. You’ve always finished what you started, and today will be no different.

You push forward, completing the warm-up with careful precision. The movements are second nature, your body carrying you through muscle memory. But there’s a weight in the air now, and with each step, your focus frays a little more.

Finally, you stop.

The studio falls silent again as you walk toward the bench. Your pulse quickens when you see the notification’s source: Mortem.

You stare at it, your breath catching in your chest. The app sits there, waiting, the message unread. Tomorrow is your last day. Is that what it will say? Or will it be another date, far off in the future?

For a moment, you consider turning away. Dancing has always been your escape, your solace. Maybe one more routine will help you clear your mind.

You step back toward the center of the studio, muscles coiled and ready to begin again. But something stops you. A voice, faint but insistent, whispers at the edge of your thoughts: Face it.

Your hands tremble as you pick up the phone. You swipe the screen, heart pounding in your ears, and open the notification.

Your eyes lock onto the date, and for a moment, everything freezes. Confusion flickers in your chest, followed by the sharp pang of disbelief. You’d told yourself you were ready for this, that the day would come eventually, but seeing it spelled out so plainly shakes you.

And then, as quickly as it came, the chaos fades. You take a deep breath, grounding yourself as you’ve done countless times before. The truth is undeniable, and no amount of fear will change it.

You’ve made your peace with death. You always knew it would come soon. And now, soon is here.

-

3:22 p.m.

Dahlias.

Your mother’s favorite flowers. They stand out vividly against the muted tones of the hospital’s inpatient ward, clutched close to your chest as you make your way to her room.

It started with an ache—sharp and unrelenting—but she didn’t see a doctor until the nausea and loss of appetite became impossible to ignore. Six months ago, the diagnosis came: stage 3 pancreatic cancer. The doctor gave her six months to a year to live, and with every agonizing moment, you’ve come to understand why she wishes the end would hurry along.

But the notification she hopes for never arrives.

“Honey, I haven’t gotten my notification yet,” she mutters the moment you step into her room. Her voice is flat, a mix of irritation and resignation, as her eyes glance at the flowers in your hands.

She’s always irritable after chemo, so you don’t let her tone sting. Instead, you walk to the sink, filling a vase with water.

After the nurse checks her IV and blood pressure, you’re left alone with her. The silence isn’t new, but it feels heavier today.

“They said six months. Why am I still here?” she groans, struggling to adjust her pillow.

You hurry to help, carefully setting the vase of dahlias on the bedside table. They brighten the room immediately.

“They’re beautiful,” she finally says, softening just a little.

“I’m glad you like them,” you reply with a faint smile.

Your mother has always lived with vivacity. She wasn’t one for small dreams; she lived a thousand of them. In her teens, she wanted to be a singer. By her twenties, fashion called her, leading to an internship at a fabric shop. There, she befriended a chef who inspired her to pursue culinary arts. It was during that chapter of her life that she met a classical musician—your father.

And you.

Her dreams shifted then, morphing into family and love, and for years, she poured herself into creating a home filled with warmth. When your father passed, she found a new dream: becoming a florist. She turned it into a thriving business.

Until six months ago.

“Are you eating well?” she asks suddenly, her concern for you breaking through her fatigue.

You nod. “Yes.”

“What did you eat this morning?”

It’s a routine question, part of her new reality where food tastes like nothing. Asking you lets her imagine the flavors she misses.

“I had cranberry ciabatta from the bakery across the street,” you lie gently.

She hums contentedly, closing her eyes. “They make the perfect ciabatta.”

“Mom,” you say softly, taking her frail hand in yours.

“Yes, my darling?”

“What would you cook for your last dinner?” You smile to hold back the lump in your throat.

Her face lights up, pleased by the question. She’s always loved sharing her stories, and now they’re all she has left to give.

“For an appetizer, I’d make eggplant croquettes,” she says with a teasing grin.

“Mom, not the eggplant,” you protest, wrinkling your nose.

Her laugh is weak but genuine. “Okay, okay. How about scampi bruschetta?”

“Now that’s more like it,” you say with exaggerated approval.

She closes her eyes, envisioning her creation. “With thyme and lemon. I’d toast the ciabatta for five minutes—just enough for a crunch—and sear the shrimp with olive oil and a pinch of salt. Then sauté spring onions with thyme, lemon zest, and honey. Acacia honey.”

As she speaks, her voice gains strength, her enthusiasm igniting memories of her former self. Between recipes, she slips in anecdotes, turning her imagined last meal into a tapestry of her life.

You hang on every word because you know these stories matter. They are her, distilled into moments you’ll carry forever.

And yet, the cruel irony doesn’t escape you.

You were supposed to be the one holding her hand at the end, not the other way around. The thought pierces through your heart as you sit there, smiling at her stories. She has spent six months longing for death, only for it to come for you first.

She deserves to rest, to find peace after everything she’s endured. You would have done anything to give her that. But the universe is merciless. It has flipped the natural order, leaving her with the unbearable task of outliving her child.

The injustice of it sits heavy in your chest, threatening to choke you. How is it fair that the one who wants to die must keep fighting, while you—her child—are robbed of the chance to live?

By the time she moves to selecting drinks, her eyelids grow heavy.

“You’re sleepy, Mom,” you whisper, smoothing the duvet around her.

She nods, offering a tired smile. “I’m just a little tired these days.”

You watch her closely, memorizing every line of her face, every glimmer in her weary eyes. “You look beautiful today.”

Her smile deepens, faint but radiant. “I know.”

“You’ve always been beautiful,” you add, unable to stop yourself.

She chuckles weakly. “I look good with cancer, huh?”

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, committing her image to memory.

As you stand to leave, her hand clasps yours, pulling it to her chest. For a moment, it rests there, and just when you think she’s asleep, she lifts her other hand to pat your head.

“You’re a superstar,” she whispers. “I adore you so much.”

Those were her bedtime words to you as a child, and now they hit deeper, wrapping around your heart with bittersweet comfort.

In her eyes, you will always be her child, no matter how much of the world you’ve seen or what you’ve become.

As she drifts to sleep, you kiss the back of her hand, releasing it gently. You take one last look at her before leaving the room.

This isn’t goodbye. It’s not the last mother-daughter moment, either, because in life and in death, she will always be your mother.

For you, death isn’t the opposite of life. It’s simply a part of it.

-

6:16 p.m.

“46.92!”

The words ring out in the humid air of the locker room as Hyunjin’s friend pats his back enthusiastically. They’re both standing under the shower, letting the day’s fatigue wash away.

“I see a gold medal in your near future,” his friend adds, grinning.

Hyunjin can’t stop the smile that creeps onto his face. The thought of victory is intoxicating, the image of standing atop the podium almost tangible. He can taste it—sweet, like honey.

“Beers? What do you think?” another teammate calls out as Hyunjin turns off his shower head.

For a moment, he’s tempted. He deserves it, doesn’t he? Breaking his personal record, getting closer to his dream—surely, a small celebration wouldn’t hurt.

But discipline pulls him back. His body is his temple, and the bread he allowed himself this morning was already a rare indulgence.

“Not tonight,” Hyunjin says, his tone polite but firm.

“Next time, then,” his friend replies easily, shrugging it off as he heads for the lockers.

The others filter out, their laughter and chatter fading down the hallway until silence envelops the space. Hyunjin is alone now, drying his damp hair with a towel. He moves methodically, packing his bag, folding his towel, tucking everything neatly into place.

When he pulls out his phone, a cluster of notifications greets him. Most are messages from his teammates—congratulations, plans for the weekend, harmless banter. He skims through them absentmindedly until one notification stops him cold.

It stands out like a blot of ink on an otherwise pristine page.

Mortem: Tomorrow is your last day.

For a moment, Hyunjin forgets to breathe. The locker room feels impossibly quiet, the white noise of the air conditioning fading into nothingness.

He reads the notification again, hoping—no, praying—that he’s misunderstood. But the words remain the same.

Hyunjin’s legs feel unsteady as he forces himself to move, his bag slipping from his shoulder as he stumbles toward the pool. He steps onto the edge, the scent of chlorine sharp in the air. The water is eerily still, reflecting the overhead lights in perfect symmetry.

He looks down at his reflection, and what he sees isn’t the confident, ambitious swimmer who broke his record earlier today.

It’s someone hollow. A boy with dreams just out of reach, crushed under the weight of a cruel truth.

His fists clench at his sides as anger rises in his chest, hot and unrelenting.

“FUCK YOU!” he screams, his voice tearing through the silence, reverberating across the chamber.

The sound ricochets off the walls, rippling across the surface of the water. His reflection distorts, breaking apart into fragments before settling again, unfamiliar and unkind.

They say death comes at the right time. A gentle visitor, arriving only when it’s supposed to.

But that’s a lie.

It doesn’t care about dreams or sacrifices. It doesn’t care that Hyunjin has spent years of his life in pursuit of one thing, pushing his body and mind to their limits.

It doesn’t care that he’s so close.

And now, when victory is within his grasp, it will take everything away.

He closes his eyes, chest heaving as he fights to steady his breathing. The rage doesn’t subside—it sits in his chest, a molten core of grief and frustration.

Hyunjin knows there’s nothing he can do to stop what’s coming. But for tonight, he lets himself curse the unfairness of it all, his voice echoing into the void until there’s nothing left but silence.

For Hyunjin, death is a thief.

-

7:22 p.m.

Alcohol is never your first choice. You’re not a fan of the bitter aftertaste or the burn as it slides down your throat. But tonight, you need something to dull the ache.

Your phone lies face-up on the bar, the notification glaring at you like a cruel joke. It’s accompanied by offers—a funeral service arrangement, a hotline for counseling.

You stare at the screen, unsure how to even begin processing it all. Sadness feels too small a word for the heap of emotions weighing you down. Beneath the sorrow lies a sliver of joy at the thought of not having to endure another day. And beneath that, a fragile sense of relief that it will soon be over.

How do you explain that to anyone? How do you untangle that mess of feelings, let alone share them with a therapist?

The bartender doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. Your sadness is written all over your face.

An hour passes, your drink long since gone, and you finally decide to leave. The bartender approaches, not with the check but with a bottle in hand.

“Here,” he says, taking your empty glass away.

You blink at him, confused. “I’m ready to pay—”

“I’m not taking your money,” he interrupts, pouring liquid from three different bottles into a pair of shot glasses with precise movements.

It clicks belatedly in your mind—some unspoken gesture, one you wouldn’t have recognized if you didn’t spend most of your nights at home.

“May I ask what this is?” you say, eyeing the amber liquid as he slides the shot glass toward you.

“The Three Wise Men,” he says with a faint smile.

“And who are they?”

“Johnnie Walker, Jim Beam, and Jack Daniels,” he explains, gesturing to the bottles on the counter.

“Ah...” A small laugh escapes you. “Very wise indeed.”

He lifts his shot glass, holding it up in a silent toast. “Ready?”

You hesitate, your hand wrapping around the glass. “Any tips for this?”

“Don’t think. Just swallow.”

You nod, mirroring his stance.

“To the three wise men,” he says.

“To the three wise men,” you repeat, exhaling before tipping the shot back. The liquid burns all the way down, leaving a warmth in its wake.

“Whoo...” the bartender exhales, slamming his glass upside down on the counter.

You mimic him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “That was…” You pause, laughing nervously. “…something.”

He chuckles, leaning on the counter as his gaze sweeps the bar. “They say you’re either living to die or dying to live.”

The room feels quieter for a moment as his words settle.

He sighs, his voice softening. “But you know what? I only pity the living.”

The statement strikes you in a way you can’t quite articulate. You don’t want to die, not really. But the thought of living, with all its weight, feels far worse.

“Another round?” he offers, holding up one of the bottles.

You shake your head. “No, thank you. I haven’t eaten dinner, so I don’t think that’s… wise.”

“See? You learned from these men,” he teases, capping the bottle with a grin.

You pull out your wallet, sliding a card toward him. “At least let me pay—”

He steps back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Use the money to buy yourself a nice dinner, okay?”

There’s no arguing with him, so you reluctantly tuck your card away. “Thank you,” you say softly, your voice heavier with gratitude than the words can carry.

He nods, his smile kind. “Hey, I needed that shot too.”

You rise from the stool, glancing back as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Have a great night.”

The bartender is busy with another order, but a few steps later, his voice calls out to you.

“See you on the other side,” he says, raising a hand in farewell.

For a moment, you pause, then nod, offering a faint wave before stepping out into the night.

-

7:45 p.m.

There's nowhere to go.

You’ve been walking aimlessly since leaving the bar, letting your feet lead the way. Your hands are stuffed into your jacket pockets as you stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn green. The thought of returning to your apartment, where silence lingers like an unwelcome guest, feels unbearable.

You could visit your mother again, but the idea of seeing her only to leave her forever—it's too much to handle.

There are so many things you want to do, yet none of them feel right.

The light finally turns green, and you step off the curb. But before you can take another step, something grabs your shoulders and pulls you back. A motorcycle speeds past, narrowly missing you.

Your mind goes blank. Instead of your life flashing before your eyes, everything shuts down for a moment.

"Come on!" a voice urges. A hand takes yours, pulling you across the street just as the light turns red again.

You don’t realize what just happened until you’re safely on the other side. Someone has just saved you. If they hadn’t stopped you, that motorcycle might have dragged your body halfway down the street.

You turn to look at your savior and freeze. He’s beautiful—stunning, even—and for a moment, you’re speechless.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle but tinged with concern.

His words snap you out of your daze, and you hurriedly compose yourself. "Yeah, I’m sorry, I was—"

"No, no, it’s not your fault. That motorcycle ran the light," he interrupts, shaking his head.

Why are you apologizing? You should be thanking him. But when you look at him, the words catch in your throat, so you glance away. "Thank you… for, uh, earlier," you manage to say.

He smiles, and his eyes curve along with it, warm and genuine. But then his next words take you by surprise.

"Your death isn’t today, right? I’m pretty sure it said tomorrow."

You freeze again, alarm bells ringing in your head. How does he know that? You take a step back, suddenly wary.

Realizing he’s scared you, he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I’m sorry—I should’ve explained first."

He lowers his hands and exhales before continuing, "I was in the bar earlier. I accidentally saw the notification on your phone when I was getting my drink. And then I followed you..." He grimaces. "Wait, that makes me sound like a creep."

He stops rambling and pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, tapping the screen until it lights up. He turns it toward you, revealing a notification identical to yours.

His death is tomorrow, too.

"I guess we’re doomed, huh?" he says with a shrug, his tone oddly lighthearted.

You’re at a loss for words, staring at the screen and then at him. How is it possible that someone like him—this beautiful, radiant man—is doomed?

He puts his phone away and looks at you earnestly. "I know this is sudden, and random, and... probably really weird. But do you want to have dinner with me?"

It is sudden, random, and undeniably strange. But as you look at him—this stranger who saved your life—one thought crosses your mind: What’s the worst that could happen?

You’re going to be dead in a matter of hours anyway.

"Okay," you say.

-

08:10 p.m.

The two of you decide to walk to dinner, hands tucked into your jacket pockets, his adjusting his beanie every few steps. He finally breaks the silence as you pass the second block from where you met.

"I'm Hyunjin, by the way," he says.

You glance at him and give your name in return. When you expect the exchange to end, he extends his hand, and you shake it, feeling the chill of his skin against yours. His long fingers, adorned with rings, seem oddly delicate.

"Nice to meet you," he says with a small smile, pulling his hand back to adjust his beanie again.

“So... when did you get your notification?” he asks after a beat.

“This morning,” you reply, freeing your hands from your pockets now that the silence has been broken. “You?”

He tilts his head back slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. “Two hours ago.”

A strange feeling of unease stirs inside you, but he doesn’t let the conversation falter. “How do you feel about all this?”

“All this?” you echo.

He nods, waiting for your response. You search for the words, trying to name the whirlwind of emotions you’ve carried since the moment you opened that notification.

“I feel... alright, I guess.”

Hyunjin stops mid-step, turning to look at you with incredulity. “Alright?”

You shrug, unsure how to elaborate.

“You’re not angry? At all?” His tone sharpens, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

Angry? That hadn’t crossed your mind. There’s an odd peace in accepting what you can’t control, a clarity you never expected. You shake your head. “No.”

His eyes darken, and he mutters, “Well, I am.” He starts walking again, this time faster, his strides growing wide and purposeful.

“I’m livid,” he says through gritted teeth. “If death had a face, I’d punch it.”

You pick up your pace to match his, almost jogging, until he notices and abruptly halts.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his frustration dissolving into concern.

You nod, panting slightly.

He chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. “Sorry, I tend to walk fast when I’m angry.”

The two of you fall into a slower, more deliberate pace, hands swinging at your sides. You want to ask what exactly makes him so angry, but before you can, he stops again.

“We’re here,” he announces, holding the door open for you.

You step inside and immediately feel out of place. The restaurant is elegant, full of people dressed to the nines. Self-consciousness creeps up your spine, and you spin around to look at him—only to bump into his chest.

“Sorry,” you mumble, looking down.

Hyunjin steadies you with a firm grip on your shoulders. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, stepping back to stand behind him.

“Table for two, please,” he tells the hostess.

She leads you to a table by a large window overlooking the city, the full moon casting a gentle glow over the skyline. As she places menus in front of you, Hyunjin mutters a polite thank-you, his attention already elsewhere.

You glance at him as he removes his jacket, folding it neatly over the back of his chair. He seems unbothered by the setting, completely at ease. He flips open the menu, his eyes scanning the options.

“Any ideas on what to have?” he asks, glancing up at you.

You fumble to open your menu, pretending to read it while avoiding his gaze. Finally, you lean forward and whisper, “Don’t you think we’re underdressed?”

He gasps dramatically, as if your words remind him of something crucial. Tugging off his beanie, his dark hair tumbles down, slightly damp and shiny, framing his small face. He ruffles it quickly, then shrugs.

“Steak? Pizza? Pasta?” he suggests, ignoring your question entirely.

You hesitate. When he offered to take you to dinner, you’d imagined a casual spot, maybe a pizza joint or noodle bar. Not this. And while you’re trying not to think about money, the menu’s prices make your stomach turn.

“I think we should go somewhere else,” you say quietly, your eyes darting over the options.

“Why?”

“It’s... too expensive.”

Hyunjin laughs, low and amused. “Do you think I can’t afford it?”

You shake your head frantically. “No, no, that’s not what I meant—”

“I’m kidding,” he interrupts with a grin. Leaning forward, he drops his voice to a whisper. “Honestly? I can probably only afford a plate of pasta and garlic bread.”

Your eyes widen, but his sly smile makes it clear he’s joking again.

“Good thing we’ve got the pity card,” he says, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug.

You freeze, reminded of the pity card. It’s a small perk that comes with the notification—a free pass to almost anything, covered by taxes. A gesture from the system to say, “Sorry you’re dying soon—here’s a little something.”

But the thought of using it makes your skin crawl.

“No,” you say, shaking your head firmly. “Not the pity card.”

“Why not?”

You struggle to explain. “It just... feels wrong. I don’t want their pity.”

Hyunjin raises a brow. “Who cares? We’ll be dead in a few hours.”

Before you can respond, a waiter approaches to pour water and set down a plate of bread. Hyunjin thanks them softly, then turns back to you.

“It’s not like we’re taking their pity with us to the grave,” he says, lifting his glass. “So, what do you say?”

You glance at the clock on the wall. Four hours left. Soon, none of this—money, pity, pride—will matter.

“We only die once, right?” you say, lifting your glass awkwardly.

Hyunjin laughs, his grin lighting up his face. “We only die once,” he echoes, clinking his glass against yours.

-

8:20 p.m.

You're not much of a conversationalist, so Hyunjin takes it upon himself to break the silence, his curiosity about you driving him forward. He has a myriad of questions on his mind but decides to start simple.

"May I ask what you do?"

His question makes you look up at him, and after a moment's hesitation, you place your hands under the table and answer with a sheepish smile, "I'm a ballet instructor."

The pieces click into place for him—the flowy skirt, black tights, and your hair tied neatly into a bun.

"So, you're a ballerina," Hyunjin remarks, nodding thoughtfully.

"I was," you correct him softly.

He tilts his head, his brows furrowing slightly. "Was?"

"I'm retired," you say briefly, offering another shy smile.

Hyunjin blinks in confusion. Retired? You seem far too young for that. "May I ask why?"

You adjust the cutlery in front of you, your hand steady despite the weight of your words. "I got into an accident a couple of years ago. I badly injured my leg, and the doctor insisted I stop dancing if I wanted to keep walking..." Your voice trails off, and your lips curve into a sad smile as you avert your gaze.

The weight of your story hits him. He can empathize with the sense of loss; after all, his situation is eerily similar. You had to give up your passion because of an accident, while he faces an abrupt end because of the ticking clock. Both of you are here, grappling with the unfairness of it all on what could be your final hours.

"It's like that saying," you continue, "‘Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.’ So that’s what I’m doing now." You tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and flash him a reassuring smile, but Hyunjin isn’t convinced. He recognizes the facade; he’s worn it himself.

"And you're not mad about it?" he asks, fully aware he might be treading into private territory.

"I was, for a long time. But eventually, I realized there’s no point in drowning myself in anger."

This time, your smile is different—genuine, even serene. It’s as if you’ve made peace with the cruelty of life, embracing it with quiet strength. Hyunjin admires it, though he knows how hard it must’ve been for you to reach that place.

He takes a breath and shifts the conversation, sensing the need to lighten the mood. "So, you’re teaching at a dance company?"

"A dance academy," you correct him with a nod. "I teach girls between the ages of seven and sixteen."

He can picture it easily—you, guiding a room full of eager young dancers, patient and warm. You probably make their favorite teacher list without even trying.

"And what about you?" you ask, lifting your glass of water for a sip.

"I'm an athlete," he replies.

"Ah..." you murmur, intrigued. "What sport?"

"Take a guess," he says with a playful grin, leaning back in his seat.

Your laughter fills the air, and you give him a once-over, your eyes narrowing as you search for clues. After a moment of deliberation, you venture, "You’re tall and lean so... basketball?."

Hyunjin chuckles, pleased with the compliment but shakes his head. "Nope."

You purse your lips in thought. "Soccer?"

"I like soccer," he admits, leaning forward, "but that’s not it."

You groan in mock defeat, covering your face with your hands. "I’m terrible at this!"

Hyunjin laughs, finding your reaction endearing. "I’m a swimmer," he reveals.

Your eyes widen in surprise. "That’s amazing!"

"I was scouted for the national team," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "I was supposed to compete this summer."

The realization of his words hits him mid-sentence, and the excitement drains from his face. Summer is two months away—a future he knows he won’t see.

"That’s incredible," you say gently, your empathetic smile offering comfort.

Just then, the waiter arrives with the menus, saving the atmosphere from slipping into melancholy.

"Would you like to order some wine?" the waiter asks, presenting a list.

You scan the menu and suggest, "I think I’ll have white wine."

Hyunjin glances over the options, muttering to himself, "Vanilla and peach... sounds nice."

"Viognier, sir?" the waiter recommends.

Hyunjin looks to you for approval, and your small nod seals the deal. "We’ll have that," he says.

The wine arrives alongside your meals, and the two of you fall into a rhythm of eating, sipping, and conversing between bites.

"How long have you been swimming?" you ask.

"Since I was eight," he replies, pausing to take a sip of wine.

"Wow. I didn’t even realize I wanted to be a ballerina until I was twelve," you admit.

He’s struck by how much more at ease you seem now, whether it’s the wine or simply warming up to him. "What did you want to be before that?"

"A lot of things. An astronaut, a doctor, a ventriloquist..." You pause, your cheeks flushing with a laugh. "A vampire slayer."

Hyunjin bursts into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really wanted to be everything."

"My mom broke my heart when she said I couldn’t be a vampire slayer," you say, your expression deadly serious.

"Honestly? I’d be sad too," he jokes, grinning.

You lean in, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. "Then she told me this: ‘It’s okay if you can’t achieve your dream. You can always go back to sleep and live a new dream.’"

Your laughter carries across the table, and Hyunjin smiles faintly, though the sentiment hits too close to home. Finding a new dream is one thing—but having the time to chase it is another entirely.

You finish your meal and dab your lips with a napkin. "The academy I teach at isn’t far from here, just a few blocks away. I actually have to stop by to grab a few things."

You glance at him, your expression soft. "Do you want to come with me?"

The invitation catches him off guard, but the warmth behind it makes it impossible to refuse.

"I’d love to," Hyunjin answers, smiling. For a fleeting moment, he feels less alone in facing the inevitable—because now, at least, he has a friend.

-

09:15 p.m.

"We'd like to pay with this," Hyunjin slides his phone across the table to the waiter.

The waiter studies the screen for a moment. You can see the subtle shift in his expression as realization dawns—Hyunjin's pity card, stark proof of his limited time, is what he offers as payment. The waiter looks back at both of you, his eyes softening, probably assuming this is some kind of farewell dinner.

He forces a smile and says, "We'll process it right away."

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you, a small grin tugging at his lips as if to say, Here it comes.

Sure enough, the waiter, taking a step away, turns back around and says solemnly, "We're very sorry."

Both of you burst into quiet laughter, your shared amusement breaking the gravity of the moment.

"That's one!" you tease, raising your coffee cup as if to toast.

When the waiter returns with Hyunjin's phone and the bill, his demeanor is still tinged with melancholy. As Hyunjin signs, the waiter fidgets slightly, clearly wrestling with unspoken words. In the end, all he offers is another subdued, "I'm very sorry."

You glance at Hyunjin with a smirk. "Two," you whisper under your breath.

The waiter departs, but not before the lady at the till calls after you as you're leaving. "Thank you, and we're very sorry."

The moment the door closes behind you, you and Hyunjin burst into unrestrained laughter.

"A hat trick!" he says, shaking his head, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

As you stroll to the academy, you find yourselves critiquing the meal like professional food critics, though the details blur in your slightly tipsy haze. The wine stands out—delicious enough that you’d kept asking for refills. Thankfully, the cool evening air helps clear your head by the time you reach the academy.

You unlock the studio door, the faint scent of wood polish and faint traces of rosin welcoming you. The dim overhead lights flicker on, casting a warm glow over the polished floor and mirrored walls. Hyunjin steps inside, his eyes widening as he takes in the space.

"This is where you work?" he asks, his voice tinged with awe.

You nod. "My second home."

Hyunjin walks around the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the floor. He pauses by the ballet barre, running his fingers lightly over the smooth wood. "This place is beautiful," he murmurs.

You smile, setting your bag down. "It has its charm, doesn't it?"

His gaze falls on the wall of framed photos—groups of smiling children in costumes, candid shots of performances. "Are these your students?"

"Yes," you say, walking up beside him. "They’re the reason I still love what I do."

Hyunjin glances at you, his expression soft. "I can see why they'd love you as a teacher."

The compliment catches you off guard, and your cheeks warm. Quickly, you motion to the barre. "Want to try something?"

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Are you offering to teach me ballet?"

"Why not?" you say, grinning. "You’re an athlete. It’ll be fun."

-

10:25 p.m.

You stand in front of him, arms crossed, as Hyunjin tentatively grips the barre. His tall frame looks comically out of place in the elegant studio.

"Okay," you begin, stepping closer. "We’ll start with something simple—a plié."

Hyunjin looks at you skeptically. "A what?"

You laugh softly. "It’s just bending your knees. Easy."

Demonstrating, you lower yourself gracefully, your knees bending outward as your back stays straight. Hyunjin watches, nodding, and attempts to mimic you.

His execution is… not as graceful.

"No, no," you say, laughing, stepping behind him to adjust his posture. "Straighten your back. And don’t forget to keep your heels on the ground."

You place your hands lightly on his shoulders to guide him. The moment your hands touch him, he stiffens, looking up at your reflection in the mirror.

"Relax," you say softly, your gaze meeting his.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and finally eases into the position. You step around to face him, studying his form critically.

"Not bad," you tease. "But your turnout needs work."

"What’s that?" he asks, genuinely curious.

You tap his knee gently. "It’s the angle of your legs. Let me show you."

You crouch slightly, your hands brushing his calf as you adjust his stance. He watches you intently, his dark eyes following your every move. When you glance up, you find him staring.

"Something wrong?" you ask, standing upright.

He blinks and shakes his head. "No, it’s just… you’re really good at this."

You chuckle, stepping back. "It’s my job."

Encouraged by your patient coaching, Hyunjin tries another plié. It’s still a little stiff, but he manages to get through it without wobbling.

"See? You’re getting the hang of it," you say, clapping lightly.

"Don’t lie," he says, laughing.

"Okay, you’re still stiff," you admit with a grin, "but that’s expected. Ballet is all about control and precision."

Hyunjin straightens up, rolling his shoulders. "It’s harder than it looks."

"Now you understand why ballerinas are tough," you say, playfully nudging him.

He laughs, the sound light and carefree. "Okay, what’s next?"

You hesitate, considering. "Maybe a pirouette?"

"A what?"

You demonstrate the spin, moving with effortless grace. Hyunjin stares, wide-eyed.

"Yeah, no," he says, laughing nervously. "I’ll break something."

You step closer, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I’ll guide you. Trust me."

As you position him for the spin, your hand lingers on his waist. The closeness brings an unexpected tension between you, and for a moment, neither of you moves.

"You ready?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin nods, his eyes locked on yours.

"Okay. One… two… three."

He spins—clumsily, of course—but the two of you dissolve into laughter as he nearly stumbles into you. You catch his arm to steady him, the laughter fading as you find yourselves standing mere inches apart.

"Not bad for your first time," you say softly, your hand still on his arm.

Hyunjin smiles, his gaze lingering on you. "Only because I had a good teacher."

-

10:55 p.m.

The quiet of the studio wraps around you like a soft blanket, interrupted only by the faint hum of the overhead lights. Hyunjin leans against the barre, watching you adjust your pointe shoes with practiced precision. The thought has been circling his mind since you both left the restaurant, but now, in this space that seems so deeply a part of you, he can’t hold back his curiosity.

“So…” he begins cautiously, his voice light but uncertain, “how did it happen?”

You pause, looking up at him with a flicker of confusion.

“I mean, your accident,” he clarifies quickly, his expression apologetic, as though he’s afraid he’s overstepped. “If it’s okay to ask.”

A faint smile touches your lips, and you straighten, leaning against the mirror. “Two years ago,” you say softly, the words feeling fragile yet certain, as if the memory lives just on the edge of your voice.

Hyunjin stays quiet, giving you space to continue.

“I was preparing for an audition—Swan Lake,” you say, your eyes shimmering with a mix of pride and pain. “I’d been working on my fouettés for weeks, trying to perfect all thirty-two of them. It was… everything to me.”

He can see it in your expression, the longing for something lost yet deeply cherished.

“The morning of the audition, I was rushing to catch the bus,” you continue, your hand gesturing lightly as though retracing steps from that day. “I was almost out the door when I realized I’d forgotten my shoes—the ones I believed would bring me luck. So, I ran back to get them.”

Your voice falters, and Hyunjin feels a pang of dread, already sensing what comes next.

“When I stepped out of my apartment building, a car came out of nowhere.”

You take a deep breath, your fingers brushing over the edge of the barre. “It wasn’t even going that fast, but the way I fell… My leg took the worst of it. Surgery, physical therapy… the usual.”

Hyunjin swallows hard, unsure what to say. “Do you… regret going back for the shoes?”

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. “Every day.”

The silence that follows feels heavy and fragile, a moment suspended between reflection and grief.

“Can you dance at all now?” Hyunjin asks gently, his voice barely above a whisper, unsure if he wants to hear your answer.

You surprise him by smiling. “Why don’t I show you?”

Standing in the center of the studio, a quiet determination settles over you. The space transforms as you raise your arms, your posture suddenly regal, every movement deliberate and graceful.

“This is the introduction to Black Swan, Act III,” you say, your voice steady. “It’s what I’d prepared for the audition.”

Hyunjin nods, unable to take his eyes off you as you begin to move. You are mesmerizing, every gesture steeped in a passion he can feel even in the silence of the room. But as you transition into the fouettés, he notices the strain in your expression. Your balance falters, your leg wobbles, and before he can call out, you tumble to the floor.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin rushes to your side, dropping to his knees as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

Instead of answering, you let out a loud, breathless laugh that echoes through the studio. You collapse back onto the polished floor, holding your stomach as the laughter spills out, unstoppable.

Hyunjin blinks, confused at first, but the sound of your laughter pulls him in. A small smile tugs at his lips. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, lying down beside you.

The quiet returns, the two of you staring up at the ceiling.

After a moment, you speak, your voice softer now, almost wistful. “Sometimes, I like to think there’s another me out there, one who made it to the audition, who got to live that dream.”

Hyunjin turns his head to look at you. Your expression is calm, tinged with longing but also a quiet acceptance.

“And you know what?” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m happy for her and that’s enough for me.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say, so he simply stays beside you, sharing the silence. There’s something achingly beautiful about your acceptance, the way you’ve found peace in the life you have now.

In that moment, he realizes how much strength it takes to smile at what could have been and quietly say, That’s enough.

-

11:13 p.m.

The studio falls into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels like a warm embrace. After a while, you sit up, brushing your hands over the smooth wood of the floor, and glance at Hyunjin lying beside you. He looks peaceful, almost lost in thought, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips as an idea forms.

“I showed you my dancing,” you say, breaking the quiet. “Now I want to see you swim.”

Hyunjin’s head turns toward you, his brows lifting slightly in surprise. “You want to see me swim?” he asks, his voice soft yet curious.

You nod, leaning back on your palms. “It’s only fair. I want to see you doing what you do best.”

For a moment, he studies you, as if trying to gauge whether you’re serious. Then, a small chuckle escapes him, and he pushes himself up to sit beside you. “Alright,” he says, a playful smile spreading across his face. “If you really want to.”

He rises to his feet effortlessly and extends a hand to you, his fingers warm and steady as they wrap around yours. With a strong tug, he pulls you up, but the motion catches you off guard, and your body stumbles forward, colliding with his.

Your breath hitches as you find yourself pressed against him, your hands instinctively landing on his chest for balance. Hyunjin’s hands settle on your waist, steadying you, and for a moment, the world feels still again—but this time, it’s charged with something unspoken.

You glance up at him, and your heart skips a beat when you notice his gaze lingering on your lips. The air feels heavier, your pulse quickening under his touch. His expression is unreadable, his eyes soft yet intense, as if caught in a moment of indecision.

Flustered, you look away quickly, stepping back to put some distance between you. “I should, um, clean out my locker first,” you say, your voice slightly rushed. “Then we can go.”

Hyunjin blinks, the spell broken, and his lips curve into a small, understanding smile. “Alright,” he replies simply, his tone easy and light, as though nothing happened.

You turn toward the studio door, your cheeks warm as you try to steady your racing thoughts. Behind you, Hyunjin’s footsteps follow quietly, his presence a steady comfort in the stillness of the room.

-

11:49 p.m.

As the taxi pulls up in front of the aquatic center, Hyunjin is the first to step out. The cool night air brushes against his skin as he circles around to your side, offering his hand to help you out of the back seat. You take it with a quiet "thank you," and he smiles softly in response, his fingers lingering for a moment before he lets go.

Inside, the center is quiet, the fluorescent lights casting a pale glow over the sleek, tiled interior. Hyunjin leads the way, his footsteps echoing lightly in the stillness, but after a few steps, he notices you’re no longer beside him.

He turns around, his brows knitting together in concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You hold up your phone, its screen glowing in the dim light, and his eyes fall to the numbers displayed there. It’s past midnight. The date has turned, and the realization hits him like a weight in his chest—this is it. The day has come.

“It’s today,” you say quietly, your voice steady but tinged with sadness.

Hyunjin studies your face, searching for any sign of fear. “Are you scared?” he asks softly.

You don’t answer right away, your lips curving into a sad smile instead. Then, with a steadying breath, you meet his gaze and say, “Promise me something.”

His heart tightens at your tone. “What is it?”

“If my time comes first,” you begin, your voice cracking slightly, “I want you to move on. Keep going. Finish your day, okay?”

Hyunjin’s chest tightens, his head shaking before you can even finish the thought. “No,” he says firmly, stepping closer to you. “I can’t do that. Not unless you promise me the same thing.”

You hesitate, your eyes glistening under the soft glow of the lights. After a moment, you nod, your voice a whisper. “Okay. We’ll both keep going.”

He takes your hand in his, his grip firm but comforting. “We’ll do it together,” he says, his voice steady and resolute.

You smile at him then, soft and bittersweet, and he feels his heart ache at how brave you are in this moment.

Hyunjin squeezes your hand gently and tilts his head. “So,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips, “do you still want to see me swim, or is there something else you’d rather do?”

You shake your head, a quiet laugh escaping you. “I still want to see you swim,” you insist, your determination making his heart feel lighter.

He chuckles softly, releasing your hand and motioning toward the pool. “Alright then,” he says. “Let’s make this count.”

With that, he turns and walks with you into the aquatic center, the weight of the clock pressing on both of you, but your shared promise holding it at bay for just a little longer.

-

12:07 a.m.

The sharp, unmistakable scent of chlorine stings your nose as you step inside the aquatic center. The lights overhead cast shimmering reflections across the vast, still water, and you pause, taking it all in. The pool is immense, almost intimidating in its size, with the kind of quiet that feels both peaceful and eerie.

You walk to the edge, peering over cautiously. The water glimmers below, deceptively inviting, but as your gaze shifts downward, the sheer depth of the pool sends a chill through you.

“Can you swim?” Hyunjin’s voice cuts through the stillness, pulling your focus to him.

You shake your head, your lips pressing into a tight line. “No,” you admit softly. “I almost drowned once when I was ten. I’ve been afraid of swimming ever since.”

Hyunjin studies you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a small smile, he says, “It’s not too late to learn, you know.”

You hesitate, your arms wrapping around yourself. The idea alone sends your pulse racing, the memory of water filling your lungs still too vivid in your mind. “It’s… not that easy,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

Hyunjin steps closer, holding out his hand to you. His voice is gentle but insistent. “Come with me. I can teach you how to swim… without the water.”

You glance at his outstretched hand, uncertainty swirling inside you. But the way he looks at you, so patient and reassuring, nudges you forward. Slowly, you nod.

“Alright,” you say, placing your hand in his.

He leads you to a smaller pool, its drained interior revealing its tiled floor. Hyunjin climbs down the ladder first, but the rungs don’t reach all the way to the bottom, and you watch as he drops the last few feet with an easy, practiced grace.

“It’s not so bad,” he calls up to you, extending his arms. “Come on. I’ll guide you down.”

You grip the ladder, your knuckles whitening as you lower yourself carefully. Hyunjin watches you closely, his gaze steady and encouraging. But as you near the bottom, your foot slips on the slick metal.

Your heart lurches as you lose your grip, your body tilting backward into the empty pool.

“Hyunjin!” you cry out, the name leaving your lips instinctively as panic seizes you.

For a split second, the world tilts and blurs, your breath catching in your throat. The feeling of falling stretches out endlessly, your chest tightening with dread. Is this it? Is this the moment everything ends?

The silence in the pool amplifies the rush of your heartbeat, drowning out everything else.

-

12:15 a.m.

It all happens so fast that Hyunjin doesn’t fully register the moment until you’re lying at the bottom of the drained pool, unmoving. A jolt of fear grips him as he rushes to your side, kneeling beside you.

“Hey,” he calls softly, his voice trembling. His hand hovers over your shoulder, unsure whether to shake you or give you space. Your eyes remain closed, and there’s no reaction. For a second, his breath hitches.

Then, just as his chest tightens with panic, you let out a low whine, your hand reaching for the back of your head. Relief crashes over him so strongly that he nearly laughs out loud.

“You scared me!” he exclaims, leaning closer as he gently brushes his fingers against the back of your head to check for any injury. “Does it hurt here?”

You wince but then immediately chuckle, brushing him off. “That would’ve been such an anticlimactic death,” you joke, trying to sit up.

Hyunjin lets out a shaky laugh, torn between exasperation and amusement. “I don’t think I’d recover from that,” he mutters, helping you up. To make sure you’re okay, he holds up three fingers with a mock-serious expression. “Alright, genius. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his hand away, a grin tugging at your lips. “I’m fine, Hyunjin.”

“You sure?” He narrows his eyes, clearly still worried.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you reply, waving him off. “Now, are you going to teach me how to swim or not?”

He laughs and takes a step back, gesturing for you to follow him to the center of the empty pool. “Alright, since you’re so eager. Do you have a swimming style in mind?”

“Uh… backstroke?”

“Backstroke, huh? Fancy choice.” He teases, listing a few others—freestyle, breaststroke, butterfly—all with a playful grin. Shrugging off his hoodie and tossing it to the side, he positions himself in front of you, standing tall and confident.

“Okay,” he says, holding his arms out in front of him. “Rest your back on my arms. I’ll guide you.”

You hesitate, your brows knitting together. “I don’t know, I might be too heavy—”

“Seriously?” He rolls his eyes and interrupts you. “I’m an athlete. I’m strong enough to hold you. Just trust me.”

Still unsure, you eventually take a deep breath and lean back, letting your weight settle onto his arms. His grip is steady, firm, and reassuring.

“See? No problem,” he says, his voice soft now, coaxing you to relax. “Alright, keep your body straight, like you’re floating on water. Flap your arms back and kick your feet forward, just like this.”

You follow his guidance, mimicking the movements, and he begins to move backward, gently carrying you along. It feels so real that for a moment, you let yourself believe you’re actually swimming.

But then your focus drifts as you glance at him—his sharp features illuminated under the pool’s dim lights, the concentration in his expression, the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.

He catches your gaze and quirks a brow. “What?”

Flustered, you quickly look away, and your hand smacks against the tiled wall at the end of the pool. Startled, you sit up.

“Whoa, swimmer!” Hyunjin teases, his laughter echoing in the empty pool. “If this was real, your head would’ve hit the wall instead of your hand.”

You can’t help but laugh with him, the moment so lighthearted and surreal that it temporarily pushes the looming reality of the day out of your mind.

Hyunjin chuckles as your laughter fades, his hand brushing back his damp hair. The glimmer in his eyes is playful, but there’s an undercurrent of something softer, almost protective, as he watches you sit up fully, still smiling from his teasing.

"Alright," he says, crossing his arms. "You’re not bad for someone who’s never been in the water."

You roll your eyes but can’t help grinning. “Thanks to my amazing teacher, right?”

He bows theatrically. “Obviously. Natural talent helps too, but I’ll let you take some credit.”

You shake your head, standing up as you stretch your arms. “Well,” you say with mock seriousness, “now that I’ve impressed you with my not-so-real swimming skills, it’s your turn to show me what you’ve got.”

Hyunjin straightens, his grin widening. “Oh, you want to see me swim for real?”

“Of course,” you reply, stepping aside and gesturing toward the other end of the pool. “How else am I supposed to judge if you’re actually any good?”

He smirks at your challenge, the competitive spark in his eyes lighting up. “Alright, I’ll show you,” he says confidently, already pulling his hoodie back on. “But don’t blink—you might miss how fast I am.”

You laugh, following him as he leads the way out of the drained pool, anticipation bubbling in the air between you.

-

12:55 a.m.

The aquatic center feels almost otherworldly in its stillness, the faint scent of chlorine hanging in the air. When Hyunjin finally reappears, dressed in nothing but his swimming trunks, towel, and goggles in hand, it takes you by surprise. His tall, lean frame seems even more striking now, the hoodie he'd worn earlier having hidden the breadth of his shoulders and the defined lines of his physique.

You catch yourself staring, and before you can stop it, an awkward giggle slips out. Hyunjin tilts his head, confused but amused. "What?" he asks.

Shyly, you admit, "Nothing, I just— I was starting to get creeped out being here all alone when you went to change."

He chuckles softly, walking to the edge of the pool. He crouches to scoop water into his hand, splashing it onto the back of his neck before straightening up.

"I need to warm up first," he says casually. You nod, stepping back to give him space.

Hyunjin drops to the ground and starts doing push-ups, his muscles flexing with each movement. You’re mesmerized despite yourself, your gaze tracing the way his body moves with fluid strength. Feeling the heat creep up your face, you force yourself to look away just as he finishes, bouncing lightly on his feet to shake out his wrists and arms.

"Don’t blink," he says, smirking as he heads toward the pool. "I swim so fast, you might miss it."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you respond with a teasing, "I’ll try to keep up."

Hyunjin dives in, his body cutting through the water with ease. The rhythmic splashing fills the air, and you can’t help but admire him. Watching him move with such precision and grace, he looks almost otherworldly—like a god emerging from the sea as he surfaces and climbs out of the pool.

The sight of water beading on his skin makes you avert your gaze, your heart racing. Grabbing the towel he'd left behind, you hand it to him without meeting his eyes.

"What did you think?" he asks, running the towel over his hair.

"Eh, it was alright," you tease with a grin.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at your playful jab but chuckles, grabbing a stopwatch from his things. "Alright, critic. Let’s make it official. Time me this time."

"I don’t know if I’ll get it right," you protest, but he waves your concerns off.

"It doesn’t have to be perfect," he reassures you, securing his swimming cap and goggles. Once he’s ready, he asks, "You ready?"

You move closer to the pool’s edge, holding up the stopwatch. "Ready when you are."

Hyunjin steps onto the starting block, his form taut and focused. You start the countdown, your voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "Three... two... one!"

At the sound of "one," he dives in, and the water comes alive with his movement. Squatting down, you watch intently as he powers through the length of the pool and then back again, his speed almost unbelievable. The closer he gets to the edge, the tighter your grip on the stopwatch becomes.

When his hand finally slaps the wall, you hit the button, exhaling in relief.

Hyunjin surfaces, wiping his face. "What’s the time?"

You glance at the stopwatch, still catching your breath. "Forty-six point six-five," you announce, your voice tinged with excitement.

For a moment, Hyunjin looks puzzled, then his expression lights up. Dropping his towel, he strides over and lifts you effortlessly by the waist, spinning you around.

"Wait—did you break your record?" you ask, half-laughing and half-stunned.

He nods, grinning, but the elation fades quickly. As he sets you back down, his smile dims, his joy giving way to something more subdued.

"Hyunjin, what’s wrong?" you ask, concerned.

He shakes his head, forcing a small smile. "It’s nothing," he murmurs. Without another word, he excuses himself to wash up, leaving you alone with the faint ripples in the pool and a lingering sense that something deeper is on his mind.

-

01:08 a.m.

The hot shower does little to clear Hyunjin’s mind, the cloud of thoughts stubbornly lingering as he dries off and dresses. He sighs, running a towel halfheartedly through his damp hair before giving up and heading out.

The sound of his footsteps echoes softly as he exits the changing room, and he sees you standing by the bulletin board, seemingly engrossed in its contents. At the sound of his approach, you turn, your face lighting up with a soft smile. Hyunjin feels something warm unfurl in his chest—a comfort he hadn’t expected.

“You didn’t dry your hair properly,” you tease gently, pointing to the still-dripping strands clinging to his neck.

He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, and you tilt yours thoughtfully. “How about some hot drinks after this?”

Hyunjin arches a brow, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Hot drinks, huh? I’ve got just the thing.”

The short walk to his apartment is quiet but companionable, and when Hyunjin opens the door, he apologizes for the small, bare setup. His apartment is modest and practical—one room with everything visible at a glance—but he doesn’t seem embarrassed, just matter-of-fact.

He heads straight for the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. “This is what I mean by hot drinks,” he says, smirking as he pours two glasses.

You both take a sip, and the burn of the alcohol draws simultaneous gasps. Laughing, Hyunjin suggests snacks to enjoy the drinks with and disappears back into the kitchen.

While he’s gone, your attention is drawn to a shelf lined with photos, medals, and trophies. You step closer, taking in the collection of memories. There’s Hyunjin on a podium, his face glowing with pride as he holds up a medal; Hyunjin mid-dive, captured in perfect form; Hyunjin smiling so brightly that the photo seems to radiate his joy.

When he returns, balancing a plate of snacks, he pauses beside you, his gaze falling on the same shelf. For a moment, there’s silence, just the two of you standing there, and then Hyunjin lets out a soft sigh.

Hyunjin sets everything down on the small table, but his eyes linger on the shelf filled with memorabilia. The once-vivid memories of his accomplishments now feel distant, like faded photographs of a life that no longer feels like his own.

He steps closer, his gaze tracing over the medals hanging neatly on hooks, the trophies gleaming faintly under the dim light, and the framed photos of him on various winner's podiums. He can almost hear the echo of applause, the feel of a medal being draped around his neck, the weight of victory sitting proud on his shoulders.

But the applause has long since faded, and what hangs over him now is a heavier truth: it will all become nothing.

Hyunjin swallows hard, the realization pressing against his chest like a stone. Every record he broke, every trophy he held high—soon, none of it will matter. No one will remember him or the things he did. The glory, the pride, the recognition—it will all vanish as if it never existed.

He lets out a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “All of this... it’s meaningless now. Everything I’ve done—it’s nothing. Soon, it’ll all be forgotten.”

The weight of his words fills the room, thick and suffocating. His shoulders slump as he drops his gaze, unable to meet your eyes. For a moment, he feels like the water he’s so accustomed to—a surface rippling with movement, but underneath, a deep void pulling him down.

You stand beside him, quietly taking in his anguish. Finally, you turn to him, your voice steady, a soft but unyielding anchor against the tide of his despair. “I disagree with you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin looks at you, surprised by your tone.

“This is... your whole life and it shows that you achieved a lot of great, wonderful things. You can see how far you've become, your triumphs and failures, everything that makes you who you are now,” you say, your eyes locking with his. “And just because the whole world doesn't know how great you are this doesn't mean it's nothing. This is not nothing, this is everything.”

He watches you intently, your words weaving through the storm of his thoughts like threads of light. For a moment, he feels the weight on his chest lift, just enough for him to draw a deeper breath.

It's true that his dream is to make a mark in the world, he wants to be remembered by the world but as he looks at you, Hyunjin realizes that it only takes one person to know what he capable of. He doesn't need the whole world to know that he's great, he only needs one that fully acknowledges him as one.

-

01:22 a.m.

Hyunjin's words linger in the air, heavy with vulnerability, and for the first time since meeting him, you realize just how deeply he craves to make a mark on this world. It isn’t just about the trophies on his shelf or the accolades he’s earned—it’s about the story he wants to leave behind, the proof that he existed, that he mattered.

You see it in the way his fingers hover over the medals, in the wistful look in his eyes as they trace the photos on the shelf. For all his confidence and charisma, there’s a quiet fear beneath it all—a fear of being forgotten, of fading into obscurity when his time is up.

“Hyunjin…” you say softly, stepping closer to him. He doesn’t look at you right away, his gaze fixed on a photo of him on a podium, his smile bright but distant, like a memory that no longer feels real.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, the words spill out. “You are something and you're a fool for thinking otherwise.”

That catches his attention. He turns to look at you, his expression unreadable, and for a second, you worry you’ve said too much. But then his lips part, as if he’s about to say something, and he stops himself.

Instead, he just looks at you. Really looks at you. And in his eyes, you see something shift—a softening, a quiet acknowledgment of your words sinking in.

You feel your pulse quicken, the air between you charged with something unspoken. “And I know that we'll go into oblivion soon,” you continue, your voice steady but quiet, “but I'm still here and I know, I know how remarkable you are.”

Hyunjin’s gaze doesn’t waver, and for the first time, you see him without the walls he’s so carefully built around himself. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to steady himself—or maybe you.

“I don’t know if I can believe that yet,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. “But… thank you.”

The way he’s looking at you now feels different—like he’s searching for something, something only you can give him. And as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of it shift into something warmer, something that pulls you closer to him without either of you realizing it.

When Hyunjin leans in, it isn’t sudden. It’s slow, deliberate, as if he’s giving you every chance to step back. But you don’t. You hold your ground, your breath catching as his face inches closer to yours.

And when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, almost hesitant, like he’s asking a question he’s too afraid to voice aloud. But as you kiss him back, the answer becomes clear. For this moment, at least, he isn’t alone.

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you both stay there, caught in the stillness of the moment. His gaze searches yours, hesitant but vulnerable, like he’s waiting for something—validation, reassurance, or maybe just the courage to believe in himself.

Before he can say anything, you lean in again, capturing his lips with yours. This kiss is different, deeper, more intentional. You pour everything you want him to know into it—all the words he needs to hear, the things you can’t quite say aloud.

You are something. You are remarkable. You are a wonder, both in the water and outside of it.

Hyunjin responds immediately, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you like you’re the anchor he didn’t realize he needed. You can feel the way his lips tremble slightly against yours, the way his touch tightens just enough to keep you close but not trap you.

Through the kisses, you try to tell him everything you feel. That his achievements aren’t meaningless. That his existence isn’t something that will fade into nothingness. That even in the face of the inevitable, he has already left a mark—on you, on the world, on everyone lucky enough to know him.

His hands move to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as if grounding himself in this moment, in you. His lips press harder against yours, the kiss turning fervent, desperate, as though he’s trying to absorb every ounce of comfort and affirmation you’re giving him.

You can feel the tension in his body begin to melt away, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. The world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet space.

When you finally pull back, it’s not far—just enough to catch your breath. Hyunjin’s eyes remain closed for a moment, his expression unreadable, but when they open, they’re shining with something you can’t quite name. Gratitude, maybe. Hope.

“You’re…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. But he doesn’t finish. Instead, he leans in again, his lips finding yours once more, and this time, it feels like a promise.

The two of you melt into each other, the kisses growing slower but no less intense. You lose track of time, caught in the warmth and closeness, as if the weight of the world has lifted, if only for a little while. For this moment, at least, you’re both enough—just as you are.

-

01:52 a.m.

Hyunjin's forehead still resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. His fingers trail softly down your arms, and his gaze locks onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. There’s no hesitation now, no doubt in the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve, every moment.

Without a word, he cups your face, his touch both gentle and steady, as if grounding himself in you. His thumbs trace slow circles over your cheeks, and you feel your breath hitch as his lips find yours again, softer this time, yet filled with a quiet yearning.

The world around you feels muted, distant, as he leads you toward the bed. The dim light casts soft shadows, and the room seems to shrink until it holds only the two of you.

“You're breathtaking,” Hyunjin murmurs with a low, sultry voice.

"Wait, wait. I'm..." you protest in breathless sighs, your hips arching, lifting off the bed.

He rushes a kiss on your open mouth, his lips graze yours as he says, "Let go. I've got you."

Your abdomen flexes under his arm as you clench around his fingers so hard it nearly pushes him out of you. His cock has never been so jealous than when you begin to come. Your eyes grow big, and your mouth drops open on a silent scream, and your wall clutches around his long, dainty fingers harder with each pulse.

Unreal. Hyunjin says in his head as he looks at you with a pair of big, lustful eyes.

"Look how gorgeous you are, coming on my fingers." He coos, his eyes traveling down your naked body that feels small in his arms. You moan louder in response and he knows he hits his mark.

Eventually, looking is not enough for him so he uses his free hand to touch you. "Look at your eyes, your mouth, your breasts. This soft, soft skin..."

Hyunjin softly smiles at your beauty as you fall apart around him. "So beautiful..."

You're still climaxing and you need this more than he realized. Which means you haven't had it in a while, at least not this good.

"Hyunjin!" You shriek, almost in a panic.

He presses his plush lips to your ear, his breath hot and tickling. "You look perfect like this."

Low moans are spilling out of you, still coming and struggling to breathe through it. Hyunjin curls his fingers and taps you right in the spot in a quick rhythm, and your eyes roll back a little.

"Good girl, keep coming for me. You're doing so well. That's it, be my greedy girl."

When you collapse onto the bed, he ushers you onto his lap, then cradles your spent body in his arms. As soon as he pulls his fingers out, your thighs press together.

"Don't close your legs." Hyunjin rests a hand on your inner thigh, wanting to see every spasm as he tastes your lips. "You're done hiding from me."

You lie side by side, and Hyunjin hesitates for a moment, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. His gaze searches yours, as if silently asking for permission, for reassurance. You respond with a small nod, your fingers reaching to trace the curve of his jaw.

When he leans in again, it’s slow, deliberate. His lips move with yours in a rhythm that feels like a conversation, one that needs no words. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he presses you closer, as if trying to erase the space between you.

“At least, we don't have to worry about condoms,” Hyunjin makes a funny remark as he settles himself between you.

A chuckle escapes your mouth in response, your head falls back onto the pillow. “That’s one way to see it!”

Hyunjin lowers his mouth on you, his trail of kisses begin from your ribcage, he goes lower and sideways, placing kisses on your abdomen that tenses as his lips get closer to where you want him the most. He flashes you a sly smile before placing the gentlest of kiss on your clit. As if that isn't enough to make you wet, he lands a few licks between your folds and drags his tongue upward only to swirls it around your clit and finishes it with another kiss on your clit, briefly sucking at it before letting go.

“I'm going in, yeah?”

You nod in consent, opening your legs wider for him and trying not to stare too much as Hyunjin will only stare back at you, and you'll likely crumble under his intense gaze.

“Oh...” you bite back a gasp the second you feel him entering you, just the tip but you can already feel that his size is above average.

Hyunjin props his hands on each side of you, deciding to hover above you as he pushes the rest of his length by motioning his hips. In this proximity, you can see the way his pupils gradually dilated and his eyelids fluttering the more of him being inside you. Overwhelmed, Hyunjin throws his head back and pushes the rest of his cock until he's fully sheathed in your warm, velvety walls.

“Argh...” his moan raw and broken as if something wounded him.

The world feels suspended, reduced to just the two of you and the quiet rhythm of your breaths. His bare skin glows in the dim of the light, the contours of his body sculpted with an almost otherworldly beauty.

As he thrusts into you at a slow, steady pace, you reach up, your fingers tracing the elegant lines of his collarbone, the smooth expanse of his chest. Every touch feels like discovering him for the first time, each detail making your heart ache with something too profound to name.

“You’re staring,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice soft, almost teasing, though a faint blush colors his cheeks.

“Can you blame me?” you whisper, your voice filled with awe as your fingers trail over the curve of his shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, Hyunjin.”

His lips twitch into a small, shy smile, but his eyes stay locked on yours, filled with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You make me feel like I’m more than I am,” he says quietly, the vulnerability in his voice wrapping around you.

You shake your head, your hand sliding to the slope of his waist, marveling at how perfectly he fits into the moment, into you. “No,” you whisper. “You’re exactly as you are. And that’s perfect.”

He lowers himself slightly, his long hair brushing against your skin as his lips hover near yours. Your hands continue their exploration, tracing the ridges of his ribs, the softness of his hips, and the strength of his arms as they're now propped in each side of your head.

“You’re not real,” you murmur, your fingertips brushing along his jaw, marveling at how soft yet strong he feels. “You can’t be.”

Hyunjin laughs softly, the sound vibrating through both of you. “I’m real,” he assures you, lowering his lips to brush against yours in a kiss that feels as light as air. “But if I’m not,” he whispers against your mouth, “then I’m glad I get to exist in this moment with you.”

Your hand finds his face, cupping his cheek as you pull him down into a deeper kiss, your body pressing against his as if to anchor him to the earth, to you. And in this moment, as you touch and hold and feel him, you believe in the magic of him, in the impossibility made real, and in the fleeting beauty of this shared, perfect moment.

The rest of the night unfolds in whispers and warmth, every touch and movement filled with quiet intimacy. There’s no rush, no urgency, just the two of you discovering and rediscovering each other, as if this fleeting moment is all that matters.

Eventually, the room falls into a soft silence, broken only by the sound of your breathing. Hyunjin’s arm wraps around you, pulling you into the curve of his body. His hand rests lightly against your waist, his thumb drawing lazy patterns on your skin.

In the stillness, he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re remarkable too,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with sincerity.

A small smile tugs at your lips, and you nestle closer to him, your fingers brushing against his. For the first time, the weight of the day seems to lift, leaving only this shared moment, this connection, that feels infinite despite the inevitable.

-

02:59 a.m.

The early dawn filters softly through the curtains, casting a bluish glow over the room as you lay next to Hyunjin, your head resting on his arm while his other hand lazily traces small patterns along your back. His warmth surrounds you, and for a moment, the world feels still and quiet.

With a curious smile, you tilt your head to look up at him. “Hyunjin?” you call softly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Hyunjin turns his head to the side and softly gazes into your eyes. “Yeah?”

“What would your perfect day look like?”

Hyunjin grins, a playful gleam in his eyes. “This,” he says, gesturing to the two of you tangled together under the covers. “Right here, right now. Best way to be found dead.”

You laugh and gently swat at his chest, shaking your head. “Stop saying things like that,” you scold, though the smile on your face betrays your amusement. “I want a serious answer.”

Hyunjin hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as he considers. “Okay,” he finally says. “I’d start the day early, maybe before sunrise. I’d drive to this lake I used to visit when I was younger. It’s peaceful, surrounded by trees, and the water’s always so calm in the morning.” His voice softens as he speaks, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words. “It must be beautiful this time of year.”

You shift slightly, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him. “Is it far?”

“Not too far,” Hyunjin replies, turning his head to meet your gaze. “About two hours by car.”

A spark of determination lights up in your eyes, and you sit up, pulling the blanket with you. “Then let’s go,” you declare, your voice filled with excitement. “Let’s create a perfect day. It’s the last chance we have, so why not make it count?”

Hyunjin looks up at you, his expression softening as his lips curve into a tender smile. For a moment, he says nothing, just gazes at you like you’ve just handed him the world.

“No, let’s just stay here. It's perfect like this,” Hyunjin says with a sly grin.

You gently slap his chest and whine, hoping to put some senses into him.

Slowly, he sits up, leaning closer until his lips brush against yours in a kiss so gentle it feels like a promise. When he pulls back, his face lingers close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Okay. Let’s do it,” he murmurs, his voice low but steady. “Let’s go.”

-

03:25 a.m.

Hyunjin is scribbling something on a piece of paper when you return, holding two bags of snacks and drinks from the convenience store. The way his brow furrows slightly in concentration catches your attention, and you pause for a moment, noticing he's using your red hairtie to tie his hair into a low ponytail and engrossed on writing something on a piece of paper.

You step closer and knock on the windshield, grinning as his head snaps up, startled. His wide eyes make you laugh, the sound light and teasing as you shake your head. He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance but leans over to push the car door open for you.

“Need help with those?” he asks, already reaching for the bags in your hands.

“Thanks,” you say, handing them over as he places them neatly in the backseat.

“Did you get everything?” he asks, glancing at the bags.

You nod. “Yep, all set.” Then, reaching into your pocket, you pull out something small and hold it up. “Oh, and this,” you add with a smile.

Hyunjin tilts his head, curious. “What’s that?”

“For you,” you say, showing him the little star-shaped pin in your hand. “Your reward for breaking your time record today.”

His expression shifts, his gaze softening as he looks at the pin. A smile spreads slowly across his face, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

Without waiting, you lean in and carefully attach the pin to the lapel of his jacket. “There,” you say, stepping back slightly to admire your work. “Congratulations, Hyunjin.”

He looks down at the pin, his smile widening, and when his gaze lifts to meet yours, there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “You're not going to kiss me?” he asks, his voice teasing yet warm.

You let out a soft laugh and lean in, brushing a quick kiss against his lips. But before you can fully pull away, Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in for another kiss—deeper, slower.

You giggle against his lips, your laughter muffled between you, and he smiles into the kiss before finally pulling back. The warmth in his gaze lingers, leaving you breathless and smiling.

“Alright,” he says, settling back into his seat and starting the car. “Shall we?”

You buckle your seatbelt, excitement bubbling up as you nod. “Ready when you are.”

Hyunjin glances at you, his own excitement mirrored in his expression. “Alright, here we go,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot, the perfect day waiting just ahead.

-

04:11 a.m.

The hum of the car fills the air as you and Hyunjin drive down the winding road, the sun rising higher with each passing mile. You’re both relaxed, trading stories and laughing as a small mountain of snack wrappers begins to pile up between you. Hyunjin occasionally glances your way, his smile soft but constant, as if the moment itself feels too perfect to break.

Reaching into the bag beside you, you pull out a can of soda and hand it to him. “Here,” you say, passing it over without thinking.

Hyunjin takes it with one hand, his other still loosely gripping the steering wheel. As he shifts his attention to crack the tab open, the can slips from his fingers. The drink spills across the front of his t-shirt in an instant, cold liquid spreading like a stain across the fabric.

“Ah, shit!” Hyunjin exclaims, pulling the car slightly to the side as you grab a handful of tissues.

“Hold still,” you say, leaning over to help dab at the spill.

Hyunjin laughs, the sound tinged with embarrassment as he attempts to help, both of your hands awkwardly brushing against each other. “You’re worse at this than me,” he teases.

“Hey, it’s your fault for spilling in the first place!” you counter, trying to keep your tone light as you both focus on cleaning up the mess.

But then it happens—Hyunjin’s attention strays too long from the road, and neither of you notice the dog suddenly darting into the street.

“Hyunjin!” you scream, your voice sharp with panic as your hand instinctively shoots out to grab his arm.

His eyes snap forward, and his body reacts instantly. The tires screech against the asphalt as he slams on the brakes, the force jerking both of you against your seatbelts. The world feels as though it’s spinning for a second, the weight of the abrupt stop pressing hard against your chest.

The car comes to a halt just inches away from the small, trembling dog, its wide eyes staring at you through the windshield.

Your heart is racing, your breaths shallow and shaky as you sit frozen, staring out at the still figure on the road. Hyunjin grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he exhales a shaky breath.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and thick with concern.

You nod numbly, your voice catching in your throat as you try to answer. “Y-yeah. Are you?”

He glances at you, his expression softening when he sees your trembling hands. “I’m fine,” he assures you, though his voice is quieter now, more careful.

The two of you sit in silence for a long moment, the sound of your racing hearts almost audible in the stillness. Then, Hyunjin glances at the dog, who scampers away unscathed, disappearing into the brush.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he turns to face you fully.

You shake your head quickly, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” you say, though the adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your words waver.

Hyunjin’s hand hesitates for a moment before it finds yours, his fingers squeezing gently. “We’re okay,” he whispers, almost as if convincing himself.

You nod again, letting out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, we are.”

As the car slowly starts moving again, the tension lingers, but there’s a quiet understanding between you—a shared moment that feels heavier than words, as if both of you silently acknowledge how fragile this perfect day could have been.

-

05:22 a.m.

The car ride is quiet now, the earlier tension still lingering in the air. Neither of you speak for a while, each lost in your thoughts as the road stretches ahead. The sun begins to crest over the horizon, its warm light spilling across the landscape, painting the morning in hues of gold and soft pink.

You reach for the window switch and roll it down, letting the cool morning breeze rush into the car. It sweeps through your hair, refreshing and light, and you close your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation calm your nerves.

When you glance over at Hyunjin, he’s already looking at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You can’t help but smile back, warmth blooming in your chest despite the chill of the breeze.

“Look at the sky,” you say softly, nodding toward the view. “It’s beautiful.”

Hyunjin tears his gaze from you, his eyes following your gesture. The sky is breathtaking, streaked with the first slivers of sunlight that break through the faint morning mist.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and reflective. “It is.”

His hand leaves the steering wheel, searching for yours. When he finds it, he laces his fingers with yours and rests them gently on his lap. His touch is warm and grounding, a silent reassurance that everything is okay now.

Hyunjin keeps his eyes on the horizon, the soft glow of the sun reflecting in his gaze. “It’s beautiful,” he repeats, but this time, his voice is heavier, almost wistful, as if he’s savoring the moment in a way he never has before.

You tighten your hold on his hand, the simple gesture conveying what words can’t. Together, you sit in the quiet, watching the morning unfold, the world outside feeling peaceful and endless as the car moves forward.

-

05:40 a.m.

The car comes to a halt, and you step out into the crisp morning air. Hyunjin joins you, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh. You glance around, the scent of pine and damp earth filling your lungs as you take in the scenery.

After a short walk, the lake comes into view, and you gasp, unable to contain your amazement. The water is perfectly still, a mirror reflecting the sky and the towering trees surrounding it. The faint golden light of the morning casts everything in a dreamy glow. The trees, just beginning to turn with the season, stand like silent sentinels guarding this little piece of paradise.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft rustling of leaves.

Hyunjin looks at you, his smile growing at your reaction. He reaches for your hand and takes it, his fingers warm and steady against yours. “Come on,” he says, leading you toward the water’s edge.

The two of you stop just where the land kisses the lake. You peer down at the water, its surface so calm it feels like stepping into a painting.

“It must be freezing,” you say, giving Hyunjin a wary glance.

He narrows his eyes playfully. “That’s what makes it perfect for a morning swim.”

You shake your head firmly, taking a step back. “No way.”

Hyunjin laughs, undeterred. “Trust me. Once you’re in, it’s not that bad.”

You laugh nervously, shaking your head again. “Hyunjin, I still can’t swim, remember?”

His expression softens, and he takes both of your hands in his. “And I told you— No worries, I’ll hold you.” His tone is earnest, his dark eyes unwavering.

Despite your protests, he’s relentless, coaxing you closer to the edge until you’re standing there, shivering slightly in your underwear. You grip his hand tightly, trying one last time to dissuade him.

“Hyunjin, I’m serious—”

Before you can finish, he sweeps you off your feet, his arms locking around your waist. You let out a startled squeal, clinging to him instinctively.

“Hyunjin, don’t you dare—”

But it’s too late. He steps into the water, pulling you with him. The cold shocks your body the second you make contact, and you scream, the sound piercing through the stillness of the lake.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop until the two of you are submerged waist-deep. You’re clinging to him for dear life, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your legs curling up to avoid the icy water.

“See? It’s not as bad as you think,” he says, his voice light with amusement as he looks down at you.

Your teeth are chattering, and you tighten your hold on him. “You’re right,” you say through gritted teeth. “It’s worse than I thought it would be.”

Hyunjin throws his head back and laughs, his warm breath misting in the cool air. The sound is infectious, and soon you’re laughing too, your voices echoing across the serene lake.

He then adjusts your arms around his shoulders and gives you an encouraging look. “Hold on tight,” he says, his voice warm with reassurance. You do as he says, gripping him as he begins to move through the water with ease.

The cold from earlier feels less harsh now, your body gradually adapting to the temperature. As Hyunjin swims farther from the shore, you cling to him, feeling the strength in his movements as he effortlessly cuts through the water.

“Not so bad now, huh?” he teases, glancing over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes but can’t help a small smile. “I’m still debating.”

When he slows down, you notice just how far you’ve come from the shore. The lake stretches around you, a perfect circle of serenity framed by towering trees. Hyunjin turns to face you, still holding you securely as you float together.

“Relax,” he says, his voice softer now. His hands guide you gently, helping you stay afloat. You take a deep breath and allow yourself to loosen your grip, trusting him.

The stillness of the moment washes over you as you look around. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the calm water under the open sky. The reflection of the trees and clouds ripples gently with every movement.

“Still as bad as you think?” Hyunjin asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

You shrug, pretending to be unimpressed. “It’s... alright, I guess.”

Hyunjin bursts out laughing, his joy infectious as it echoes across the lake. He leans in slightly, his arms finding their way around your waist. Before you can react, he pulls you down with him, both of you plunging beneath the surface.

The cold water shocks you as it rushes over your head, and you instinctively hold your breath. A moment later, you break the surface, gasping for air.

“Hyunjin!” you sputter, wiping water from your face. “What was that for?”

He’s already laughing, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. “You should’ve seen your face!”

You glare at him, about to launch into a scolding, but he interrupts by cupping your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss.

Your protest dies on your lips, muffled by his. You try to hold on to your indignation, muttering complaints against his mouth, but his kiss is too warm, too insistent. Eventually, you give in, melting against him as his laughter hums through the connection.

When you finally pull away, Hyunjin grins at you, water dripping from his face. “Still want to complain?”

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “You’re lucky I can’t swim away from you right now.”

“Exactly,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “That’s why I had to bring you out here.”

The water is cold, but in this moment, surrounded by the beauty of the lake and the warmth of Hyunjin’s arms, you’ve never felt more alive.

-

06:21 a.m.

The sun climbs higher into the sky, warming your skin as you sit on the smooth rocks by the shore, your clothes drying slowly in the gentle breeze. Hyunjin’s jacket is draped over your shoulders, a welcome layer against the cool air still lingering from your swim. You glance at him and murmur your thanks, to which he responds with a small, warm smile.

Opening a can of soda, you take a sip, the drink now lukewarm but refreshing nonetheless. You tilt your head toward Hyunjin. “So, what’s next on your perfect day itinerary?”

Hyunjin sets his can down and grins, his eyes lighting up with boyish excitement. “There’s this diner I used to go to. It’s not too far from here. They make the best waffles.”

“Waffles, huh?” you ask, raising a brow, though his enthusiasm already has you smiling.

“They’re amazing,” he insists, his hands gesturing animatedly. “Crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, with this maple syrup that’s just—” He sighs in exaggerated bliss, making you laugh.

“Alright, alright,” you say, holding up your hands. “I’m sold. Waffles it is.”

Hyunjin chuckles and shifts closer, his hand reaching up to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, his fingers lingering for a moment before he tucks the strand behind your ear. Without a word, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s soft and slow, like the morning sun warming your skin.

When he pulls back, his smile is tender, and it makes your heart ache. “I'm glad I met you.”

“Me too,” you say back while placing your hand on his and hold it tightly.

The sunlight hits right on Hyunjin’s eyes, making them shine as he stares at you. You know you've only known him for barely a day but Hyunjin knows things most people doesn't know about you. He knows your prefers your flowers to be red than blue, he knows your dreams you never say out loud but you secretly wish to come true and that makes you feel significant to him as he is significant to you. You believe that is how Hyunjin going to make a mark on you.

“I’m going to take one more lap around the lake before we go,” he says, his voice quiet yet certain.

You nod, but before he can move, you catch his wrist, pulling him back toward you. This time, it’s you who closes the distance, pressing a kiss to his lips. It lingers, a silent plea that feels like it’s carrying the weight of everything you can’t say aloud. You wish for more time—just one more day, one more perfect morning.

Hyunjin seems to sense it, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek as he gazes at you, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. He leans in to press a featherlight kiss to your lips before pulling away completely.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a wink, his voice lighter now. “I won’t take too long.”

As you watch him dive back into the water, the sunlight catching on the ripples he leaves behind, you feel a fleeting, impossible sense of forever. For this moment, at least, Hyunjin makes you believe that forever is within grasp.

-

06:51 a.m.

The warmth of the morning sun wraps around you, its gentle rays brushing against your damp skin. The sky is alive with soft hues of gold and blue, a masterpiece unfolding before your eyes. Overhead, a flock of birds glides effortlessly, their formation cutting gracefully through the stillness. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to marvel at it all—the simplicity, the beauty, the life you’ve taken for granted.

But the moment fractures.

You glance toward the lake, expecting to find Hyunjin slicing through the water, to hear the rhythmic splashes that have become so familiar. Instead, there is only silence. The lake mirrors the sky, undisturbed, serene, and empty.

A flicker of unease takes root in your chest. You scan the shoreline, your gaze darting to every shadow, every ripple. The stillness feels wrong now.

“Hyunjin?” you call out, your voice tentative, breaking the quiet.

No answer.

You step closer to the edge, the cool rocks pressing into your bare feet, your heart beginning to pound against your ribcage. “Hyunjin,” you try again, louder this time, but the name hangs in the air unanswered.

The warmth of the morning sun seems to mock you now, its gentle rays brushing against your damp skin as the sky stretches overhead, a canvas of soft gold and endless blue. The flock of birds that once felt like a sign of life now drifts aimlessly, their formation a cruel reminder of how fragile everything truly is.

You glance toward the lake, expecting to find him slicing through the water, his laughter echoing in the stillness. Instead, there is only silence. The lake reflects the sky perfectly, undisturbed, as if it had swallowed him whole and left no trace.

Your chest tightens. “Hyunjin?” you call out, your voice soft at first, hesitant to break the quiet.

No answer.

You step closer to the edge, the rocks digging into your bare feet as your pulse quickens. “Hyunjin,” you try again, louder this time, your voice trembling. But the name dissipates into the air, unanswered.

A flicker of unease blooms into full-blown panic. You scan the water frantically, your eyes darting across every ripple, every shadow. “This isn’t funny!” you yell, your voice rising with desperation. “If you’re hiding, just stop it and come out!”

Still nothing.

Fear grips you like a vice, and before you can stop yourself, you wade into the water. The cold seeps through your skin, biting and relentless, but you don’t care. You splash forward, the ripples spreading around you, as though trying to reach him through sheer force of will.

“Hyunjin!” you scream, your voice cracking under the weight of your fear. “Answer me!”

The water clings to you, dragging you down as if conspiring with your helplessness. You tread forward a little more, but you can’t go far. Your feet leave the ground, and you freeze, paralyzed by the sudden depth. You try to push forward, but your body resists—muscles locking up with the knowledge that you can’t swim.

Frustration and panic mix into a volatile cocktail in your chest. You slap the water with your hands, gasping for breath, tears streaming as you scream his name again.

“I can’t do this! Hyunjin!” you cry out, the words breaking apart into sobs. The lake offers no comfort, its silence an unbearable void. You flail for a moment, trying to search the surface, but every movement feels futile.

You cling to the thought of him, to his smile, his laughter, the warmth he carried with him like a shield against the world. But now, that warmth feels so far away, unreachable in the depths of the water.

“Hyunjin!” you cry again, weaker this time, the weight of your helplessness pressing down on you. You force yourself back toward the shore, stumbling onto the rocks as you collapse to your knees, breathless and shaking. “Please, don't— don't leave me...”

The water stills behind you, its surface reflecting the endless morning sky. You look out at it, broken and trembling, your heart refusing to accept what your mind is beginning to believe. It can’t be over. Not like this.

“Hyunjin...”

-

08:01 a.m.

The rocks beneath you feel sharp, unforgiving, but you barely notice. You sit there, knees pulled tight to your chest, your damp clothes clinging to your skin as you watch the rescue team comb through the lake. Every moment stretches painfully, the weight of silence crushing you with each passing second.

Your fingers dig into your arms as if grounding yourself can keep you from unraveling completely. Then, a shout echoes from the water. You see them—a group of rescuers—working together to pull a body from the depths.

Your breath catches in your throat.

They move with careful precision, carrying the body to shore in a black bag. You feel your body trembling uncontrollably as they approach. One of them steps forward, their expression solemn, as they lower the bag in front of you.

"Is this him?" they ask, their voice heavy with the weight of what they know must be unbearable.

You freeze, staring at the zipper of the bag, your entire being screaming to look and yet refusing at the same time. You can’t do it. You can’t see him like that.

But then your eyes catch something—a flash of red against the black. It’s your hair tie, wrapped around his wrist. You had given it to him, smiling at how absurdly adorable he’d looked wearing it. And now, it’s the confirmation you never wanted.

Your breath hitches as tears flood your vision. "It’s him," you whisper, the words breaking apart as they leave your lips.

Slowly, you reach out, your trembling hand finding his through the body bag.

With shaking fingers, you reach at the lapel of his jacket you're wearing and take off the star-shaped pin, the one you had given him just hours ago. It glints faintly in the sunlight, a small reminder of the joy he carried with him. Carefully, you place it in his palm and fold his fingers around it.

"Keep it," you say softly, tears dripping onto the bag. "It’s yours."

It’s cold—his hand is so cold it sends a shiver through you. But you hold it tight, pressing his lifeless hand to your lips. "Wait for me," you murmur, your voice cracking as the tears spill over. "I’ll see you soon, Hyunjin."

You step back as they zip the bag closed, sealing him away from you forever. The sound cuts through the air like a blade, leaving you raw and hollow.

The ambulance arrives, and they load his body inside. You stand there, watching, your hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. As the vehicle pulls away, your fingers brush against something—a folded piece of paper.

Curious and aching, you pull it out and unfold it with trembling hands. It’s his handwriting, messy but unmistakably his. A list of things he wanted to do today.

Swim in the lake.

Watch the sunrise.

Have waffles for breakfast.

Visit the art gallery.

Hot cocoa at the park.

The last line reads, Buy roses for...

Your lips tremble as you remember the promise you’d made to each other—the promise to keep moving forward, no matter who went first. The memory feels like a cruel joke now, but as you stare at his words, something inside you hardens.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper as you say to the empty air, "I’m keeping my promise, Hyunjin."

The ambulance disappears down the road, and you stand there, the morning sun casting long shadows around you. Still, you refuse to believe that Hyunjin’s gone. He is not, he just goes to sleep to live a new dream.

-

09:14 a.m.

You sit in the corner booth of the diner, the same one Hyunjin had gushed about just hours ago. The waffles arrive, golden and drenched in syrup, the butter melting into small pools on the plate. You take a bite, the sweetness coating your tongue, but it tastes hollow. Your chest tightens as you remember how Hyunjin’s eyes had sparkled when he described them to you, as though they were a treasure worth crossing the world for.

Now, it feels like swallowing shards of glass.

The drive back to the city is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the void Hyunjin once occupied. His note sits folded on the passenger seat, a reminder of the day you’re piecing together without him. You glance at it at every stoplight, as if his handwriting might come alive and guide you forward.

Your next stop is the art gallery. You find his favorite painting almost instinctively, a swirling masterpiece of color and emotion. Sitting on the bench before it, you let your mind wander. You picture Hyunjin here, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his head tilted slightly as he studied the strokes.

"Do you see how the colors bleed into each other?" he would say. "It’s chaotic but still… perfect."

The memory slices through you, and you blink away the tears that threaten to spill.

From the gallery, you walk to a nearby café, the warmth of the cup of hot cocoa in your hands doing little to soothe the chill in your heart. You sit on a bench overlooking the river, the city split in two by its calm flow. The world moves on around you—people walking their dogs, children laughing in the distance—but you’re trapped in stillness.

You think of Hyunjin, of how he was alive and laughing mere hours ago. You think of his voice, his touch, the way he could make the ordinary feel extraordinary.

And now he’s gone.

For the first time, anger stirs beneath your grief. It rises like a storm, raw and uncontrollable. You clench the cup tightly, your knuckles whitening. How could death be so cruel? How could it take someone so vibrant and leave you tethered to feelings that have nowhere to go?

Death is so unfair. It takes the person, but not the love.

-

04:02 p.m.

The world has grown quiet around you, the buzz of the city dimmed to a distant hum as you sit alone on a park bench overlooking the river. The sun dips low in the sky, painting the water with hues of gold and amber. You clutch Hyunjin's jacket tighter around your shoulders, the scent of him still lingering faintly, a bittersweet reminder of everything you've lost—and everything you're about to gain.

The list he left behind is tucked into your pocket, crumpled and worn from your grip throughout the day. You pull it out, scanning the list. There’s only one thing left, unfinished: “Buys roses for…”

He hadn’t finished the sentence. You remember startling him as he jotted it down, and now the incomplete thought feels like a cruel echo. But you know what to do.

You find the nearest florist and step inside, the smell of flowers overwhelming you. "Roses," you tell the florist, your voice quiet but firm. "A bouquet of red roses."

They hand you the bouquet, the petals deep and vibrant, reminiscent of Hyunjin’s flushed cheeks and his soft lips. You trace a fingertip over the delicate blooms before asking for a card.

Sitting at a small table in the corner of the shop, you stare at the blank card. The weight of all you want to say crushes you, an endless stream of emotions that can’t possibly fit onto a single piece of paper.

Still, you write:

For what it’s worth, you showed me that there is such a thing as a perfect day. You made a mark on me, Hyunjin.

Your hand shakes as you finish the words. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, willing the tears to stay at bay. When you’re ready, you fold the card and slip it into the bouquet.

You stand at the corner of the street, clutching the bouquet of roses close to your chest as you wait for the light to turn. The city hums around you, alive and indifferent, the world moving on as it always does. But your mind drifts elsewhere, carried away by memories.

This was the place you met Hyunjin for the first time. You can almost see him standing there, smiling like the world belonged to him. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet so vivid it could have been yesterday. You replay the moment in your mind, the way he held himself with an effortless grace, the way his eyes met yours and lingered, as if he'd been waiting for you his entire life.

The light changes, and the crowd around you begins to move. Lost in your thoughts, you follow them, stepping onto the street.

A distant sound reaches your ears—a horn blaring, tires screeching—but it feels far away, as if it belongs to another world. By the time you register the rushing car, it’s too late. There’s no time to scream, no time to run.

This is it.

-

06:11 p.m.

The world comes back to you in fragments: the cool roughness of asphalt beneath your body, the distant murmur of voices, the sharp tang of blood in the air. Your vision swims, but when it clears, the twilight sky is the first thing you see.

It’s beautiful, painted in hues of lavender and gold, with the faintest blush of pink at the edges. The sight feels distant yet oddly comforting, like a gentle reminder of where you are—and where you’re going.

Your body is heavy, the pain a dull throb that seems to ebb and flow, fading as the seconds stretch on. You’re dimly aware of the rose petals scattered around you, spinning lazily in the air with every gust of wind. They look like they’re floating, as if gravity itself has softened its grip.

You close your eyes briefly and feel something shift inside you—a strange sense of clarity. This is it. You know it, feel it in your very bones. This is your ending.

But there’s no fear. Instead, a deep, resounding calm washes over you, carrying with it the promise of reunion. Hyunjin’s face fills your mind, vivid and bright, his laughter echoing in your ears, his touch still lingering on your skin.

You force your eyes open again, taking in the petals that now rest lightly against your arm, the faint scent of roses mingling with the cool evening air. A soft smile tugs at your lips, even as your breaths come slower, shallower.

Death is not an end, you think. It’s a reunion. It’s a promise kept. It’s my happy ending.

Somewhere in the distance, you hear sirens, but they feel like they belong to another world entirely. You’re beyond that now. Your heart slows, the pain dulls, and in its place is an overwhelming sense of peace.

The light in the sky begins to blur, stars flickering faintly above as if welcoming you home. You can almost feel him, his hand in yours, his voice calling your name like a melody you’ve always known.

Tears slip down your cheeks, but they’re not from sorrow. They’re from relief, from the quiet joy of knowing you’ll see him again, touch him again, love him again.

As the world fades, you exhale one last time, your voice barely a whisper in the wind. “I’m coming, Hyunjin.”

And then there’s nothing but light.

-

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[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

HOT 'N HUMID- J. TODD

day eleven of the june bug masterlist

pairing: boyfriend! jason todd x baker! fem! reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: its the hottest day of the year, and of course your air conditioning is broken. turning the oven on to bake would be ludacris, but perhaps making your boyfriend some ice cream would do the trick?

warnings: just pure FLUFF! :), but undertones and implications of future smut... hehe.

It was too hot to use an oven today.

You knew this, as much as your inner voices nagged at you to switch it on. One little treat in the oven wouldn't hurt, would it?

Yeah… it probably would.

You had worked at a bakery for most of your teenage years, whether it be washing dishes, preparing doughs or shaping pastries. It grew as hot as the sahara back there in the summer months, and you often would step outside thinking that was cooler- despite the blazing sun.

The air-conditioning at you and Jason's flat had been faulty all week, and he had been meaning to look at it.

However, time got the better of him- duty called, and you  became too preoccupied with customer orders to focus on it. Baking had turned from a hobby into a business, and you loved it. When you weren't at the bakery, you were home baking instead.

It was never a surprise when Jason walked in, his girlfriend coated in flour, sugar and spices on her face, in her hair- especially on her clothes despite the apron.

But today, it was much too hot to even consider making cookie dough. They’d practically start to cook in the sunlight that filtered through the opened windows.

A gentle breeze spilled into the apartment, bringing some relief as you poked your head out the window.

Gotham was dead.

It seemed everyone had tried to escape the heat, and stay out of the streets. The sun beat down on the pavement so hard you swore you could see smoke tendrils curl up from it.

“Please don't tell me that oven is turning on today.” Jason called from the front door as he shut it, back from whatever meeting he had with Bruce.

You smiled to yourself. “Oh of course it is. It's not even that hot.” you called, laughing as you heard him scramble to take his boots off- rushing into the kitchen with wide eyes.

“Baby you know how much I love you and your treats but I really think- oh. You minx.” he laughed as he saw you giggling- the oven clearly turned off.

You knew he of all people loved your treats more than anyone, as you’d often find one or two brownies or biscuits “missing” before you'd take them to the store.

Jason claimed you were fattening him up, saying he was getting pudgy. It was all bullshit of course, and anyways- you liked when he was a little softer around the edges. It was attractive beyond belief.

Jason was the only person in the world you would allow to touch you right now, all sweaty and sticky and hot. You leaned into his embrace as he slid his arms around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Baking is on hold today. But I have some extra treats in the fridge if you wanna help them go missing.” you smiled, feeling a soft kiss planted on the top of your head.

“They’ll keep me going while I fix this air conditioner. It's getting done today. Don't let me get distracted.” he grumbled, cursing himself for the way his attention tended to stray.

It would be extra difficult to work while you were home, in that little floral dress he loved so much…

“You, distracted? Never.” you teased, earning a smack on the ass as he made his way to the fridge to pop a cookie in his mouth before heading over to grab his tools.

You’d both be equally distracted today- as watching Jason get all hot and sweaty with his tools never failed to have your eyes glued to him. Maybe you could find something to do to keep you preoccupied…

No. No, get your head out of the gutter.

There would be plenty of time after the AC was fixed to do other things. In the meantime…

You grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, tying your apron around your waist. You couldn't bake, technically- but it didn't mean you couldn't do other things that didn't require the oven.

And you had the perfect sweet treat in mind. You had never made ice cream from scratch, but it couldn't be that hard… right? Surely you had a recipe buried somewhere from one of your old mentors.

You thumbed through the pages of an old cookbook, stopping on a coffee stain free page for vanilla ice cream. You had all the ingredients, so all that was left was to somehow make it. Gathering the ingredients, you whisked them together in a pot over the stove, listening to Jason tinker away with the unit, humming along to some old dad rock he played from his speaker.

Once the sugar had dissolved, you added the remaining creamy ingredients, before placing it in your ice cream machine you dug out from the back of the cupboard.

When the hell did you even get this, and why hadn't you used it sooner? It was still in its packaging- practically brand new.

“Whaddya doin sweetheart?” you heard him call, unaware he had been sneaking glances at you when you weren't looking, eyes studying your body in that dress as if he was about to be tested on it the next day.

“Making something secret.” you called, eyes not shying away from the little instruction booklet, slowly adding the mixture to the machine and turning it on, fingers crossed it wouldn't blow up and splatter cream, milk and sugar all over your face.

When you were sure it was working properly, you got to work chopping up cookies and brownies into little pieces. Those sprinkled on top of the creamy treat with some chocolate sauce? To die for.

Maybe not being able to turn on the oven today had been the universe's way of nagging you to think more out of the box.

Twenty minutes later, when the machine had beeped at you- you smiled with delight, clapping your hands together at the reveal of the soft, creamy dessert that was formed. You were so happy it had worked, and that the two of you would be able to cool down, even if it was for a brief second.

Not wanting it to melt, you quickly divided it into two bowls, drizzling the sauce and toppings over it, and hurrying it over to Jason.

“Ta da!” you sang, handing your sweaty hunk of a boyfriend a little bowl that looked like a dolls toy in his hand. “What's this?” he smiled, eyes looking up at you with a childhood-like wonder.

You forgot how much Jason loved ice cream. You cursed yourself for not remembering you had that machine a long time ago.

“My special ice cream! Well not mine, I just found a recipe but… I made it for you! Now we can cool down. Well, for a minute at least.”

You plopped down next to him, watching as he got a large spoonful and placed it on his tongue, eyes closing as he hummed in delight. “Oh baby this is so good. Fuck. You really are something, aren't ya?”

You giggled, taking a bite of your own. It was good. Not to toot your own horn.

“Makin me ice cream and being that pretty in that little dress, you sure you're not hot in it?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

“What, are you trying to get me out of it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

Taking another bite of your ice cream, you licked the spoon clean before taking a spoonful of his. “Well, I’ll tell you what handyman. You finish your ice cream and get this AC up and running again, and I’ll leave this dress off for the rest of the weekend.”

You had never seen a man be so focused and work so quickly in his life after that statement. 

[thatdammchickennugget]

A Shop Apart

pairing - theodore nott x fem!reader

summary - of course, neither of you would admit the stolen glances—theo, catching moments of your infectious laughter as you chatted with customers; you, secretly admiring the precision with which he handled his craft. these thoughts remained buried, drowned out by the day-to-day chaos of running rival businesses

warnings - rival shop owners who are not so secretly into each other, teasing, theo is really type a in this, kinda whimsical!reader

wordcount - 2.9k

Diagon Alley was as alive as ever, a magical artery of commerce where enchantments hung in the air as tangibly as the smells of freshly baked pumpkin pasties and brewing potions. The cobblestone streets thrummed underfoot, lined with vibrant shopfronts that called out to the passing crowd. Among the kaleidoscope of stores, two stood shoulder to shoulder, their stark differences impossible to ignore.

To the left stood "Nott’s Enchantments and Potions," a haven of precision and order. The display windows gleamed with carefully curated items: neatly labeled potions, sleek enchanted tools, and a sign in bold, no-nonsense lettering that read: Efficiency Without Extravagance. Behind the counter, Theodore Nott presided like a general overseeing his army, his sharp eyes darting over every detail to ensure perfection. His world was structured, predictable, and above all, logical.

Next door was "Whimsy & Wonder," a riot of imagination come to life. The shop practically glittered with charm, from its ornate, swinging sign to the window displays bursting with enchanted trinkets and shimmering fairy lights. Inside, the atmosphere buzzed with unrestrained energy. Shelves overflowed with colorful potions, dancing figurines, and glittering baubles. You, the shop’s owner, swept through the space like a living embodiment of your brand—a flowing robe adorned with embroidered stars trailing behind you as you greeted customers with a radiant smile.

The contrast couldn’t have been starker. And neither could the tension.

From the moment Theo and you became neighbors, the clash of styles had been inevitable. Your first disagreement—over a garland of enchanted flowers draped across your awning—had been as small as it was explosive. Theo had accused you of obstructing his display. You’d countered with a suggestion to brighten his shop up a bit. That had only been the beginning.

“Your nonsense is distracting my customers,” Theo had declared one busy afternoon, glaring at a flock of animated butterflies that had dared to flutter into his territory.

“And your brooding is dulling the magic out of Diagon Alley,” you had shot back, arms crossed in defiance. “Honestly, it’s a miracle anyone even notices your shop.”

Thus began a rivalry that had become as much a fixture of the alley as the cobblestones. Customers, drawn to both shops for entirely different reasons, found themselves entertained by the ongoing battle of barbs. More than one shopper had walked away with their purchases and a knowing smile, whispering about the unspoken tension beneath the snipes.

Of course, neither of you would admit the stolen glances—Theo, catching moments of your infectious laughter as you chatted with customers; you, secretly admiring the precision with which he handled his craft. These thoughts remained buried, drowned out by the day-to-day chaos of running rival businesses.

.・。.・゜✭・.

It started with the smell of cinnamon buns.

Theo had barely unlocked the doors of "Nott’s Enchantments and Potions" when the rich, sugary aroma drifted in from next door. He paused, his fingers tightening around the sign he was flipping to Open.

Inside "Whimsy & Wonder," you were cheerfully setting out a tray of enchanted pastries—warm, golden buns that floated gently above their plate. A sign hanging beside them read, Cinnamon Wishes: A Treat to Sweeten Your Day! Customers gathered, drawn by the smell and the soft hum of magic that made the pastries glimmer faintly.

Theo watched from the corner of his eye as a witch with a shopping list as long as her arm stopped mid-stride, sniffed the air, and made a beeline for your shop. He scowled. Another potential customer lured away by glitter and nonsense.

He stormed to his counter, muttering under his breath as he adjusted the neatly stacked jars of ready-to-brew potion kits. By the time the third customer wandered past his door to join the growing crowd in your shop, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He strode out of his shop, his footsteps clipped and precise against the cobblestones. He appeared in your doorway, the bell jingling sharply as he entered.

“Pastries?” Theo said, his tone dry and unimpressed. “Really?”

You looked up from arranging your display of charm bracelets, a bright smile already forming on your lips as you spotted him. “Good morning to you too, Theo.”

“Cinnamon buns, enchanted glitter, butterflies—do you ever stop trying to turn this alley into a carnival?”

“Do you ever stop scowling?” you countered, leaning one hand against the counter. “Besides, I think my customers appreciate a little sweetnes with their morning shopping. You might want to try it sometime. Merlin knows your shop could use some cheering up.”

Theo’s expression darkened, but before he could retort, an elderly wizard wandered in, drawn by the smell of the pastries. He looked between the two of you, his eyes twinkling.

“Ah, young love,” the wizard said, chuckling as he picked up a pastry. “You remind me of my wife and me back in the day. Always bickering.”

Theo stiffened, his face turning an alarming shade of red. “It’s not—she’s not—”

“Oh, don’t mind him,” you said smoothly, your smile widening as you handed the wizard his pastry. “He’s just cranky before he’s had his tea.”

The wizard laughed, shuffling out of the shop as he carefully cradled the sweet treat in his hands. Theo, now thoroughly flustered, muttered something unintelligible under his breath before turning sharply on his heel.

The bell jingled as he left, but not before you caught the tiniest twitch of a smile on his lips.

.・。.・゜✭・.

The next confrontation began when Theo caught sight of your newest addition to the shop—a sign so large and flamboyant it seemed to radiate its own personality. Hung high over your entrance, the sign proclaimed in glittering, color-shifting letters: Whimsy & Wonder: Brighten Your Day, One Charm at a Time!. Each letter sparkled with enchantment, the colors shifting as they caught in sunlight. Worse yet, it played a jaunty jingle whenever someone walked by.

Theo, standing in front of his own impeccably tidy storefront, clenched his jaw as the cheerful tune reached his ears for the fifth time in as many minutes. The noise carried into his shop, muffling the sound of his steady cauldron stirrer, and he could feel his meticulously controlled world unraveling at the edges.

With a sharp inhale, he crossed the cobblestone threshold into your shop once again without hesitation. The bell above the door gave an almost delighted chime as if thrilled by his arrival. He stopped a few steps in, arms crossed tightly, his gaze sharp as a freshly whetted blade.

“What,” he began, his tone low and measured, “is that?”

You glanced up from a table near the center of the shop, where you were adjusting a display of snow globes that occasionally sang lullabies. The twinkle of mischief in your eyes told Theo you already knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Good afternoon,” you said, straightening up and brushing your hands together with a cheerful smile, as if you were greeting your favorite customer. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Theo gestured sharply toward the door. “The sign.”

You tilted your head. “Oh, you mean the fabulous sign? Isn’t it delightful? Took me ages to find just the right jingle charm to go with it.”

“‘Delightful’ isn’t the word I’d use,” Theo said, his voice edging toward exasperation. “Obnoxious, overbearing, and excessive are all closer to the mark.”

You crossed your arms, mirroring his stance but with an air of mockery that made his teeth grit. “Really? I thought it was perfectly eye-catching. Customers seem to love it.” You nodded toward the street, where a young witch was instructing her husband to snap a photograph of her under the sign.

Theo followed your gaze and then pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thinner by the second. “It’s overhanging my shop,” he said flatly. “And worse, I had three customers ask if they’d walked into the wrong place because of your ridiculous jingle.”

You laughed—a soft, musical sound that only deepened the crease in Theo’s brow. “Well, that just means you’re not doing enough to make your shop memorable. Maybe a little jingle is exactly what you need.”

“Memorable doesn’t mean gaudy,” Theo shot back. “I’ll thank you to remove it—or at the very least, silence the tune.”

“Silence it?” you repeated, pretending to be horrified. “Absolutely not. It’s part of the charm!”

Theo opened his mouth to argue further, but the conversation was interrupted by a cluster of children who scampered into your shop. They were chasing after one of your enchanted stars—a tiny glowing orb with trailing golden sparkles. It zipped through the air, weaving around Theo’s head before landing in your outstretched palm.

“There you go, darlings,” you said, handing it back to one of the children with a warm smile. They all giggled in delight and darted back out into the street.

Theo stood there, momentarily thrown off by the scene. He watched as you returned to the counter, your expression now smug and triumphant. “See? People love it here,” you said, gesturing broadly to your shop. “You might want to loosen up a little. Maybe even—dare I say it—have some fun.”

Theo scowled, but the sharp retort he’d been preparing fizzled away as he caught the way you were looking at him—bright-eyed and unapologetically challenging, like you thrived on provoking him. He tightened his arms across his chest.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, turning on his heel.

As he strode back to his shop, the cheerful jingle of your sign trailed behind him. By the time he reached his door, it was already stuck in his head.

.・。.・゜✭・.

It started innocently enough—or so Theo would later claim.

Mid-morning sunlight streamed over Diagon Alley, and a steady stream of customers bustled between the shops. Theo had spent the better part of the morning reorganizing his shelves after an unusually busy rush. His meticulous attention to detail meant every label was aligned and every potion bottle gleamed.

But the sound of delighted laughter drifting through the open door of Whimsy & Wonder grated on his nerves. You had enchanted your bell to chime a cheerful little tune whenever a customer entered, and every time it went off, Theo felt his eye twitch. Wasn’t the jingle of your sign already too much?

Enough was enough.

Theo didn’t consider himself a prankster, but he was no stranger to cleverness. He grabbed a jar from his workbench—one of his most efficient creations: Silent Snuff. The enchantment inside was harmless, designed to suppress minor magical disturbances like unruly sparks or fizzling potions.

With a flick of his wand, Theo set the jar hovering discreetly at the edge of your shop’s awning. It pulsed faintly as it activated, the glittering lights and floating charms in the vicinity dimming slightly. To Theo’s satisfaction, the jaunty music from your enchanted sign faltered, the cheerful melody turning sluggish before sputtering out entirely.

He didn’t expect the immediate effect. You appeared in your doorway not five minutes later, your hands on your hips and your eyes blazing.

“Theodore!” you called, your voice carrying over the chatter of the street. Several shoppers turned to watch the unfolding drama, eager for what they likely assumed was another spat between the famously feuding shopkeepers.

Theo stepped out of his shop, the picture of calm indifference. “Yes?” he replied, a hint of smugness lacing his tone.

“What did you do to my sign?” you demanded, gesturing toward the now dim and silent display. “Half the charms on it stopped working, and my butterflies won’t stay afloat!”

Theo shrugged. “No idea what you’re talking about. Maybe your enchantments aren’t as robust as you thought.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, stepping closer until you were nearly toe-to-toe. “You’re awfully smug for someone who ‘has no idea.’”

“I’m always this smug,” he said, his voice cool. “But perhaps this is the universe’s way of telling you to tone it down. Simplicity can be... refreshing.”

“Refreshing?” you repeated, incredulous. “I’ll show you refreshing, Nott.”

Before Theo could react, you flicked your wand. A puff of bright pink smoke erupted from the nearest flowerpot outside his shop, transforming it into an enormous, glitter-covered daisy. It loomed like a whimsical sentinel, completely out of place against the austere backdrop of Nott’s Enchantments and Potions.

Theo stared at the flower, his expression blank. “Very mature,” he said dryly.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” you replied sweetly, giving him a saccharine smile.

The tension between you was palpable, drawing curious onlookers. Some whispered bets on who would win this particular round, while others simply enjoyed the spectacle. A witch passing by muttered something about how the chemistry was “so obvious, it’s painful.”

Theo caught the comment and felt his cheeks heat, but he refused to look away from your determined gaze. He tipped his head slightly, his tone deceptively casual. “Careful, or I might start to think you actually like me.”

The remark caught you off guard, your expression flickering for just a moment. But you recovered quickly, tossing your hair with a laugh that was just a bit too loud. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, turning sharply and retreating to his shop.

As he closed the door behind him, he allowed himself the faintest smirk. You, meanwhile, were left staring at the glittering daisy, already plotting your next move.

.・。.・゜✭・.

After Theo’s stunt with your sign and butterflies, you decided it was time to hit back. Subtlety was for amateurs; you wanted something with flair, something that would be impossible for him to ignore.

The plan was simple: an enchanted banner that would unfurl above Theo’s shop with a playful, mocking slogan. Something like “Efficiency: Where Fun Goes to Die.” You spent the better part of the evening crafting the perfect enchantment. The banner would hang just long enough to catch everyone’s attention before vanishing in a harmless puff of glitter.

At dawn, when Diagon Alley was still quiet, you crept outside with your wand in hand. You whispered the incantation, watching as the banner fluttered to life, rising like a mischievous phoenix. But as it reached the apex of its ascent, the enchantment wobbled. A thread of magic sparked and fizzled, and suddenly, the banner wrapped itself around you like a determined snake.

“Really?!” you groaned, struggling against the enchanted fabric. It tightened, pinning your arms and tangling around your legs until you toppled backward into a stack of flowerpots. The clatter echoed down the street, shattering the quiet morning.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the door to Theo’s shop swing open.

“What in Merlin’s name—?” His sharp voice cut through the air as he stepped outside, his eyes landing on your predicament. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Well, well. What have we here?”

You glared up at him, thoroughly ensnared in your own creation. “Don’t just stand there, Nott. Help me.”

He crossed his arms, clearly savoring the moment. “Help you? Oh, I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of this... creative experience. Seems very on-brand for Whimsy & Wonder.”

You wriggled against the banner, which only tightened further. “I swear, if you don’t—”

“Alright, alright,” he said, stepping closer. “Hold still, or this will take even longer.”

Theo knelt beside you, his wand outstretched as he murmured a counter-spell. The banner loosened its grip, but as he worked, his hands brushed against your arm, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. You caught the faint scent of his cologne—clean, sharp, and surprisingly pleasant.

“Do you always get yourself into these messes?” he asked, his tone teasing but not unkind.

“Do you always enjoy watching people suffer?” you shot back, but the edge in your voice had softened.

He glanced up, and for a moment, your eyes met. The banter dissolved into silence as the proximity between you became impossible to ignore. His face was closer than you’d realized, his expression unreadable but intent.

You both stilled, the world around you fading into nothing but the sound of your breathing. His hand brushed yours as he untangled the last of the banner, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

For a second, it felt inevitable—the pull between you, the way his gaze flicked to your lips and back again. Then—

“Oi! What’s going on here?”

A vendor’s voice rang out, shattering the moment. You jerked back, breaking eye contact as Theo stood abruptly, the banner now limp in his hands.

“Nothing to see here,” he said coolly, tossing the banner onto your stoop.

You scrambled to your feet, brushing dirt off your robes and refusing to look at him. “Thanks,” you muttered, your cheeks burning.

He lingered for a second longer, his expression unreadable, before turning and walking back to his shop without another word.

As you watched him go, you couldn’t decide what burned hotter—the embarrassment of being caught or the way your pulse still raced from how close you’d been.

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

[dollishmehrayan]

BAKE ME A CAKE HCS ── .✦

a/n: I’ve had like 3 bags of pretzels and tons of water and I’ve got my Spotify playlist going and ready, so I’m so ready to crush this omg 😭, but literally the pretzels were so yum!! (Sea salt) but anyways enough of food but genuinely you guys need to like um request fics and hcs!!

(Tags: batboys x baker!reader)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Admiration and Support: Bruce is genuinely amazed by your skills in the kitchen. He never imagined that someone could be so talented at making intricate cakes and delicate pastries. He’ll often sneak into the kitchen just to watch you work, appreciating the craftsmanship that goes into each creation.

Gifts: On special occasions, Bruce will have high-end ingredients or tools delivered to your door, ensuring you have the best supplies for your baking. He may also commission a cake from you for one of the many Wayne galas.

Late-Night Treats: After a long day, he loves sneaking a piece of your cake or a warm pastry when everyone else is asleep. It’s his secret way of unwinding after patrol, and he sometimes brings it to the Batcave when he's working late.

Baking as a Family Activity: If you’re close to his kids, Bruce loves seeing them get involved. Alfred usually helps with the dishes, but Bruce will occasionally attempt to assist in the baking process—though his attempts usually lead to flour everywhere.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Enthusiastic Taste Tester: Dick is your biggest fan when it comes to your baking. He always asks to taste-test everything you make. You can’t get a batch of cookies or cupcakes past him without him giving an enthusiastic “Are these for me?”

Bakes Together: He absolutely loves baking with you. Even if he’s not the best at it, he loves the experience of spending time together and sharing in the process of creating something beautiful. He’ll add his own “creative” touches (usually involving way too much frosting or sprinkles and like massive diabetes but don’t tell him that😞🙏)

Appreciation: Dick loves showing off your work to his friends and family, boasting about your baking skills. He’ll even tell random strangers about your cakes if the opportunity arises.

Sharing the Love: He loves gifting your baked goods to people. Whether it’s a batch of cookies for the Titans or cupcakes for a charity event, he’s always making sure your delicious treats are shared with others.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The Hidden Sweet Tooth: Jason may come off as tough and gritty, but he has an undeniable soft spot for your baked goods. He’ll act like he doesn’t care, but you’ll often find him sneaking into the kitchen late at night, indulging in the last piece of cake you made.

In the Kitchen With You: Jason’s more of a hands-off kind of guy, but if you ever need help, he’ll step in. He’s not the best baker, but he’ll always try to help you clean up afterward, washing dishes or setting up the ingredients.

Cakes for Special Occasions: Jason secretly loves it when you bake him a special cake for his birthday or some other occasion. He’ll probably act like he’s too tough to care about something so sweet, but he’ll keep a piece of your cake in the fridge to savor later.

Cakes as Comfort: When he's had a rough day, the comfort of your baking is something that instantly calms him. It’s not just the taste but the warmth and care you put into it that makes him feel safe.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The Perfectionist’s Palate: Tim appreciates the art of baking on a technical level. He’ll analyze every part of your cake, from the texture of the frosting to the way the layers are stacked, and he’ll always give you the most thoughtful and genuine feedback.

Baking Research: Tim loves to try and learn new recipes with you. He’ll spend hours researching the best techniques, finding obscure recipes, and then he’ll be the one to present a new idea for a cake or pastry for you to try together. He has a great appreciation for the science behind baking.

The Baker’s Helper: Tim is a practical person, so he’ll often assist in the more tedious parts of baking—like measuring ingredients, prepping the oven, or organizing everything before you get started.

Decorating Cakes: Tim is a sucker for well-decorated cakes. He’ll admire your artistry, whether it’s intricate fondant work or delicate piping. If you ever need a hand with the decoration, he’ll be there, helping you get the details just right.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Unimpressed at First: Damian might be skeptical at first, having grown up in a more rigid environment. He’ll try to act like he’s not interested in your baking, especially if it’s too “sweet” or “fluffy” for his tastes. But over time, he comes to respect your craft.

A Taste of Perfection: When he finally does try one of your creations, his usually stoic face will break into a small, approving nod. “It’s acceptable,” he’ll say. And that’s his way of telling you that you’ve impressed him.

Incredibly Protective of Your Work: Damian will guard your cakes like they’re priceless treasures. If anyone tries to take the last piece, you’ll find him defending your work with a level of intensity only rivaled by his devotion to his family.

Baking for Special Occasions: He may not show it outwardly, but Damian takes great pride in ensuring that you have the time and space to bake for important events. He’s quietly supportive and makes sure that nothing interferes with your baking process.

AlFRED PENNYWORTH ( IF YOU WERE DATING ANYOF THE BATBOYS ) ── .✦

Your Biggest Supporter: Alfred is the heart of the Batfamily, and he’s often the one who enjoys your baked goods the most. He’ll frequently offer to help you with anything in the kitchen and often provides tips and tricks (he's been making delicious meals for the family for years).

Subtle Compliments: When you bake something particularly spectacular, Alfred will give you a compliment in his typical understated way: “Ah, Miss [Y/N], another masterpiece, I see.” He might even sneak a piece of cake before dinner, though he always acts like it was an accident.

A Baking Partner: Alfred may not be much of a baker himself, but he’ll be happy to assist you in making whatever you need. His love for you is evident in how he’ll quietly encourage you to bake something for a family event or special occasion.

Admiring Your Skills: Alfred will often tell you how much he admires your patience and attention to detail in your work. He loves seeing the joy your creations bring to the rest of the family.

[elainem-art]

🌸Elain Archeron Doll 🌸

Template by: autumnwoods.author on insta

Elain Art by me

Items from Canva graphics

The limited edition Elain doll includes baking and gardening tools, as well as some yummy pastries 😋 Everything pink, of course, to piss off the haters 😇

[baby-you-you]

hii! can i have a set for.. this is gonna be really specific, but a cookie from the garden of delights from cookie run kingdom? it's the place where pavlova cookie, sugarfly cookie, and eternal sugar cookie live and i think its really pretty but also a little scary! but i'd love to focus on the cute aspects of it ^^

Garden Of Sweet Delights regressor theme !!!

🍧 activities

Pretend tea parties with plushies and “pastries” Gardening / pretend gardening with plush flowers/paper flowers Coloring pages with sweets, cakes, or pastel themes Baking (or play baking) soft goodies with a caregiver or solo Creating a dessert-themed sensory bin (rice, sprinkles, puff balls) Watching cozy pastel shows (Strawberry Shortcake, Hello Kitty, Sanrio) Making friendship bracelets with candy-colored beads Gentle dancing to soft, sugary songs or music box sounds Setting up a blanket picnic with pastel snacks and plush guests

🍧 clothes

Ruffle dresses in baby pink, mint, lilac, or lemon Pajamas with cupcakes, donuts, or candy hearts Fuzzy pastel cardigans or pullovers Onesies with dessert prints or cotton candy colors Bibs/pinafoes with bows Slippers that look like cupcakes or animals Legwarmers or bloomers in soft plushy fabrics Pacifier clips or accessories with candy beads Hoodies with candy bunny or pastel bear ears Flowery aprons and gardening gloves

🍧 toys

Cupcake plushies, donut squishies, or ice cream cones Eternal Sugar Cookie plush Pretend baking kits (felt or wooden pastries) Gardening tool kit (Kid's gardening tools) Strawberry or macaron stacking toys Cotton candy-scented dolls or plushies Tea sets with candy colors Frosted cookie play food sets Stuffies wearing pastel outfits or holding sweets Sensory toys in flower or food shapes Pop-its shaped like lollipops or cupcakes Toy cash register and bakery setup for pretend play

🍧 games

“Tea party guests” roleplay with stuffies Cookie Run Kingdom/Ovenbreak/Witch's castle Sorting games with pretend candies or pastel buttons Playing bakery: taking orders, decorating, and delivering plush desserts Making your own “menu” for a dessert shop with stickers and crayons Hide the cupcake! Plushie hide-and-seek Beanbag toss! Pretending to decorate a plushie cake or cookie Playing a pastel memory matching game with dessert cards "Spa day" - Take a day to relax, play some games, and just overall calm yourself.

🍧 foods/drinks

Strawberry yogurt with sprinkles Candy flowers Heart-shaped sandwiches or soft pastries Apple flowers with oranges in the center for the bud Pink applesauce or fruit pouches Cotton candy-flavored drinks (milk or slushies) Mini muffins, pancakes, or toast with fruit jam Cookies or crackers with pastel frosting Marshmallows / puff cereal Strawberry milk, vanilla milk, or honey tea in a sippy Fruit kabobs with whipped cream Candy kabobs

🍧 nicknames <3

Cupcake Sugarbun Sweetiepie Honeypie Pinklet Pinkie Lil' cupcake Candy baby sugarpie Sweetie Sweetheart

[mediaevalmusereads]

Baking Yesteryear. By B. Dylan Hollis. DK, 2023.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: cookbook

Series: N/A

Summary: A decade-by-decade cookbook that highlights the best (and a few of the worst) baking recipes from the 20th century

Friends of baking, are you sick and tired of making the same recipes again and again? Then look no further than this baking blast from the past, as B. Dylan Hollis highlights the most unique tasty treats of yesteryear.

Travel back in time on a delicious decade-by-decade jaunt as Dylan shows you how to bake vintage forgotten greats. With a big pinch of fun and a full cup of humor, you’ll be baking everything from Chocolate Potato Cake from the 1910s to Avocado Pie from the 1960s.

Dylan has baked hundreds of recipes from countless antique cookbooks and selected only the best for this bakebook, sharing the shining stars from each decade. And because some of the recipes Dylan shares on his wildly popular social media channels are spectacular failures, he’s thrown in a few of the most disastrously strange recipes for you to try if you dare.

***Full review below.***

Since this book is non-fiction, my review will be structured a little different from normal.

I've had this book for a while, but I didn't want to post a review before making a few of the recipes myself. I was already a fan of Hollis from his TikToks, so that might introduce some bias into my review - just so you're all aware.

Overall, I found this book to be quirky, easy to follow, and fun. I loved the bright colors and retro-feel to the photo shoots, and I appreciated that almost all of the recipes were accompanied by a picture of the thing you're supposed to be making. I also liked the blurbs written by Hollis himself; they very much felt like his voice, with his characteristic sense of humor balanced by his genuine love for baking and "old things."

Perhaps the most valuable part of this book, however, was the emphasis on lowering barriers to entry. I've read my fair share of baking guides that call for special ingredients or equipment, and there are a lot of recipes out there that are finicky and sure ton dissuade new bakers. Hollis's book, however, emphasizes that most (if not all) of these recipes can be done with basic tools - one does not even need an electric mixer (though it does make some recipes easier). There also aren't many fancy ingredients that aren't readily available at most grocery stores, so that also helps.

I do, however, have some minor criticisms which relate to the usability of this book. For one, the organization makes it rather difficult to find a specific recipe (or even category), particularly if you're like me and don't recall what decade it came from. While organizing the recipes by decade makes sense given the book's premise, it does make it more functionally difficult - you can't flip to the cake section, for example, and browse or put yourself within the general vicinity of the recipe you're looking for. Thus, readers will have to rely on either the TOC or the index a lot more, but this is a minor inconvenience rather than a huge drawback.

I also don't think the majority of the recipes are blow-your-mind good, but honestly, given this book's premise, I don't think that's the worst thing. The recipes are largely taken from sources aimed at home bakers, so you're not going to get professional-level pastries out of them. You will, however, get things that are fun and relatively simple to make, and they taste good enough to me that I'd consider making them multiple times.

TL;DR: Baking Yesteryear is a fine book for fans of Hollis's TikTok, but it goes beyond being mere merch. It not only provides historical recipes that are easy to replicate, but it also does a good job of lowering barriers to entry for new bakers. Experienced bakers might not be overly impressed by the recipes, but engaging with food history is a treat in and of itself, and it's delightful to see someone like Hollis engaging with the past with such enthusiasm and adoration.

[ghostofhyuck]

baking with boyfriend! nct dream. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

‧˚ʚ ───────── ₊‧꒰ა ୨ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊ ───────── ɞ˚‧

Mark Lee

Thinks that he can handle baking a cake but is probably stressed out already during grocery shopping. He lets you take the lead, afraid that he might ruin it for the two of you. The type to just gaze on what you are doing. Probably tried to be helpful like cracking the egg or measuring the ingredients. TRIES!!! so hard to make sure that he's doing it right,,, asks you again and again before proceeding to do it. "I'll just pour all of this?" "Mark, for the last time yes, it's on the recipe." 

Huang Renjun

Oh he's the perfect assistant! He reads the recipe so that you don't have to look at the recipe over and over again. Helps you by getting the tools and needs. Also a perfectionist, like if the recipe says 1 cup, it has to be 1 cup!! He's very helpful since he knows his way to the kitchen, probably preheats the oven while you mix the ingredient, and while you two wait for it the pastry to bake, he made a drink for the two of you to enjoy! :<

Lee Jeno

Another one who's lets you take the lead. Literally, like a puppy following you everywhere. Probably the type to backhug you while you measure ingredients. He thinks he's helping but he's not, but he's an emotional support, so it's fine!! I feel like he read the recipe and while you already memorized the recipe by heart, so when you skipped an ingredient, he stops you and just panics, like,,, "is that part of the instructions?" you laughed at how serious he was, but you assured him that you know what you're doing. 

Lee Donghyuck

Baking with Haechan is kinda stressful but that's because he sees that you're having a hard time with the cake, (in your defense, it's your first time baking a cake.) Probably takes the lead more, has a serious expression on his face, (even if it was his first time baking a cake too.) You watch as he skillfully mixed the ingredient, place it at the baking pan, and put it inside the oven. Oh, and when you two are making the icing, he'll be the type to get a spoonful of it just to taste it. (He had three more spoons later lol.)

Na Jaemin

Baking with Jaemin sounds like a very peaceful thing to do!! You can hear the song playing from the speaker, probably a soft lo-fi or something from your shared playlist!! It's so serene and calm that you two don't really speak to each other and have a sort-of telepathic connection on what to do. You two would work together on baking a cake, like how Jaemin measure and pour the ingredients while you mix it with a handmixer. Would probably smear flour on your cheek but it won't go to that extent that you two are throwing flour at each other. 

Zhong Chenle

I feel like Chenle is very confident with his cooking skills, so he takes the lead!! But once it gets complicated, he'll ask you help. Once you're the one who's taking the lead, Chenle would probably be the type to be clinging on you. He's like a koala on you, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulder as you mix the batter. You probably had a hard time moving because your boyfriend is being stubborn lol. 

Park Jisung

He's ban in the kitchen tbh. BUT sometimes he really wants to help you with your baking because he likes spending quality time with you. Probably the type to watch from a far but you tend to ask him to do stuff like cracking the egg or maybe pour the ingredient while you mix the batter. Oh and he's such a foodie!! Like, he's the type to watch you while he nimble on the crushed chocolates or maybe he found a snack on your pantry so he's munching that while you bake. 

[alextydaisuda123]

Pizza Tower AU- Cloud Tower

"WARNING!": A LOT OF TEXT

A new AU that didn't take long to wait. To be honest, this idea came up spontaneously and additionally for several reasons, one of which is my childhood dream of having wings (and over the years my dream hasn't faded, which is surprising, usually my dreams fade after 5 years or a little more). Before I start talking about this world, a couple of additional words. A huge thank you to Emily (@creat0rstudi0) for helping me with this AU: she helped with the design of Peppino and Gustavo, from whom I pushed off and created images for others, painting everyone choosing a good palette for them (don't worry, I also painted the characters myself, Emily just gave a clearer palette than me, so I will show you 2 versions of painted characters), and also helped a little with information about the bosses. Well, now let's go.

Cloud Tower is an AU where instead of the earth there are small floating islands, platforms, and the space around is an endless sky, which is both a home and a grave. If you break your wings and fall, there is only a small chance that your body will fall on some island or platform, or if someone notices you falling, and if this is not the case, then consider that you will fall endlessly for the rest of your life (or until your corpse is cut by the air). And also (almost) everyone has wings. There are those who were born without them, or with them, but because of their problems (they grew together incorrectly or broke unsuccessfully) are disabled, roughly speaking. Also, someone may have additional plumage (in their hair, on their body, etc.) in addition to their wings. And yes, since the climate in their world is not so simple, many fly in warm clothes. There is also magic here, but it is hidden either in artifacts or in some creatures, since the world itself is also magical in its own way (after all, the food here is alive, lol). A few words about the tower. There is a certain atmosphere there similar to the Rainbow Factory from MLP Creepypasta.

Peppino and Gustavo are both cooks, but in their own separate directions. Peppino is an Italian cook, while Gustavo works as a baker of bakery sweets. One day, Pizzaface arrives on a flying platform and reports that Peppino's pizzeria will be destroyed by a cloud tower, but if he does not want this, then let him fly to the tower, and flew away, leaving behind an evil laugh. What actually did not like this, and they both decided to fly there and destroy the tower with its "owner".

Additional facts: Peppino, despite the fact that he does not particularly like to fly, although he has to, his flight speed is clearly faster than Gustavo's, while he flies slower; Gustavo has his own separate bakery, where he makes pastries, he would like to work with Peppino, but he cannot leave the place where his family once baked their first bread; Peppino participated in the heavenly war, from which he still has an injury, but thanks to work and his faithful friend Gustavo, he tries to live an ordinary life and not think about it.

Pepperman and Vigilante are two of the main bosses of the cloud tower who clearly didn't get there of their own free will. They were kidnapped a long time ago and forced to work for Pizzahead, having been threatened in a special way. Pepperman is a restorer (like in steampunk, yes) and a decorator. Vigilante is an ordinary security guard, and also watches the precipitation.

Additional facts: Pepperman has really white pupils, which is why his eyesight is worse than usual (he is not completely blind), and the reason for his poor eyesight is that he refuses to wear glasses for flying (but be that as it may, for work he still wears them under his beret along with additional tools); before getting into the tower, these two were ALREADY a couple; Vigilante's grandfather, who has long been retired, is still alive; as PH himself "promised", so that the bosses would be freed from their tower duties, they need to "rip off Peppino's wings" at any cost, even if they weren't aimed at fighting him.

Noise and Noisette are another couple who ended up in the tower in the same way as Pepperman and Vigilante. Noise hosts the news and weather forecast, and a small show similar to "Truth or Dare". Meanwhile, Noisette is still the same cafe owner.

Additional facts: Noise has a broken right wing, it was broken by Pizzahead when he tried to fly out of the tower for the first time, he broke it so much that now Noise can't fly at all, the wing has grown together crookedly and he is unable to straighten it and move it, so he flies with the help of a backpack on his back, which he can change to either a jet or a simple propeller; Noisette sometimes helps Noise with flying and how Noise injured his wing, she does not know to this day; I lied to you a little, Pizzahead kidnapped only Noise, and Noisette herself flew to PH when she was looking for him, and when she found him, so that PH would not harm her, he lies to her and offers to join Pizzahead, as he himself wanted.

Bruno is an unsuccessful clone, mixed with a regular bird and Peppino's DNA, created by PH. He can fly, but very ineptly because his arms replace his wings, which is why he falls and crashes into all sorts of possible objects, which is why he flaps his wings hard and pieces fly off from them, he can of course grow them, but this whole process takes a lot of his strength.

Additional facts: in addition to his speech, he makes a distorted bird sound; despite his inability to fly, the bosses (Pepperman, Vigilante and Noisette) still teach him to fly normally, they also additionally look after Bruno himself, feed him and teach him to speak, since PH himself does not do this; because of such care, Bruno accepts his friends more as parents, calling them accordingly (in the future, he will also call Peppino this way 😂)

Pizzahead is the main boss, a sadist and a psycho. He built a tower, around which a barrier in the form of clouds with a powerful lightning discharge is built, and in order to turn it off, you need to turn off the generators.

Additional facts: Pizzahead and Pizzaface in this AU are brothers, Pizzahead is younger; after one incident, his psyche was shaken, he was inspired to recreate the tower for his whims and "fun"; he cut off Pizzaface's wings and as a great and first trophy keeps them in his office along with John's wings and one wing of Jerome; those wings that Pizzahead himself is wearing are also "trophies", cut off from other creatures, but he tells everyone that they are fake and it's just a cape, he also participated in the war, but in secret from his brother, so that he "wouldn't worry" about him.

Pizzaface is Pizzahead's brother and ... a good guy? Yes! In this AU, he is not a bad character, but rather a good one. So in that encounter with Peppino, he just played the role of a bad guy. He is quiet (but he tries to be sociable) and traumatized. He does not often show himself to the other inhabitants of the tower, which is why few people know about him. Most of the time, he spends either in the secret room where Pizzahead keeps him, or with Jerome, helping him clean the tower.

Additional facts: because of the cut off wings, he feels weak and exhausted; he still does not know why Pizzahead acted so cruelly and what happened to his psyche, but he blames himself for this, that he was not caring enough and simply did not keep an eye on him; Pizzahead watches almost his every move so that he does not do stupid things and does not ruin his plans, and for the sake of PH he has to play the same role of a bad guy.

Jerome is a small pillar with one wing and memory loss due to a strong blow from Pizzahead. He is a simple cleaner. He does not remember anything about his brother or his past, although memories still pop up in his head. In the past, he had magic, but due to the loss of a wing and memory, he does not remember and cannot use it normally, over time, the skills were simply lost.

Additional facts: he is Pizzaface's best friend, and he sometimes helps him remember things, but he cannot (PF hopes that he will remember something); he has seen John many times as an ordinary part of the tower, but he cannot remember him or at least his name; initially, he was not supposed to be in the tower and Pizzahead wanted to throw him on a long flight, but Pizzaface somehow convinced him to leave him and just make him an ordinary cleaner.

Well, I hope you like this AU. Enjoy and have a nice flight!

[hiraethwrote]

As you're THE local florist, I'd like to request some Baker!Nanami x Florist!Reader headcanons that come to your mind 🙂‍↕️♥️

the local florist??? i am blushing. you're so sweet ilysm mwah. so i obvi took some real life inspiration from my life. and as happy as i am to not work as a florist anymore (bc it's too much work for shit pay), i look back at it with fondness, and i think i love flowers more than the average person lol

baker!nanami and florist!reader, who have a shelf in the bathroom dedicated solely to hand moisturiser due to constant cracked and calloused hands — neither occupation is as delicate and nice as it might seem to be on the outside.

for nanami, kneading dough and rolling out pastry takes a toll on his strong hands, the pillows of his fingertips becoming rough after being stuck with said tasks for hours. for you, your hands turn dry after constantly working with water. they’re basically submerged in water half the time, constantly wetting and drying them which eventually leaves small cuts in your skin.

baker!nanami who accompanies florist!reader to the airport when you have to pick up the cut flowers that’s being delivered. the large boxes of flowers are a lot heavier than they look. this is where nanami comes in, who spends a lot of time carrying flour bags, so lifting a few boxes of flowers into your van is no problem at all.

baker!nanami who comes to your flower store after closing, because you have to work late — again. he usually clocks out by the time you lock up, and he always texts to hear if you have to stay longer, and about half of the time the answer is yes.

whether it be a wedding, funeral or just a celebration of some sort, the demand for flowers is high, and never underestimate the time it takes to put together a dozen table decorations.

but nanami will, sooner rather than later, knock softly on the window. you scurry over to let him into your dimly lit store, his available arm snaking around your waist to pull you close, placing a soft kiss on your temple. in his other arm he has brought dinner — if you can consider leftovers from the bakery dinner. you don’t mind though, because his bread and buns are delicious ;)

baker!nanami and florist!reader who have to do laundry every single day. when he returns home after a day of baking, he is covered in flour, and dough is still sticking to his clothes, while your clothes are stained with dirt — ungodly amounts of dirt, and you don’t understand where it all comes from.

baker!nanami and florist!reader's apartment is the place to hang out because it’s so extremely cozy. due to both of you being particularly meticulous when it comes to details, every inch of your home is carefully thought out.

from furnishing to decorations, there’s just a harmony throughout your home that is very warm and inviting, so people tend to want to stay there as long as possible.

baker!nanami who sends customers to your store, especially couples who are in to order wedding cakes. he will casually hold a conversation and sneak in the question of “have you fixed flowers yet?”, and just send them in your direction.

baker!nanami who scolds you for being too careless. a florist uses a great variation of tools in their work. most commonly is obviously the floral knife, which you might pave around a little too much. you can’t really help it as you value efficiency when the store is packed with demanding customers who want their bouquets yesterday.

so when you come home, the first thing he’ll do is examine your hands before shooting you a disappointed glare — “what about your burns, mister?” you’ll quip in return, because his hands are just as scarred as yours. he’ll answer the same thing every time; “you’re more important.”

baker!nanami and florist!reader who have an hour every night before bed, dedicated to venting about customer experiences from throughout the day.

“must be so cozy working here,” you both hear on a regular basis, but if they only knew. nanami often has to take a deep breath when people walk into the bakery asking “excuse me, do you sell pastries?” like there isn’t a display cabinet a few feet in front of them filled to the rim with delicious treats.

and you’ll tell him about the gossip you get an insight to. how you had to write a card from some guy to his girlfriend, or presumably former girlfriend now, where it said ‘i’m sorry i messed up again baby. i never meant to slip into her dms. you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, love your sugar plum’

baker!nanami and florist!reader who live the domestic dream. you spend your days doing what you love, always bringing your passions with you home — a home filled with both flowers and bread.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[rageagainstmymachine]

Do You Want A Second Opinion? 3(some): Valentine's Day Special - Primis Richtofen / F! Reader / Ultimis Richtofen

Summary (not really): Happy Valentine's Day! @coldbrewghoul and I have teamed up to bring you two Valentine's Day specials. I couldn't have done this without them. (Thank you for beta reading my work, Ghoul... and encouraging for me to write at all, lol.) If you haven't, go read their fic! (Once you're done with mine, ofc.)

This is your third time here, I'm sure you know what to expect by now. Have another threesome with our two favourite men. ;)

Words: 10,572

Warnings: NSFW - Cursing, Smut, Threesome

Paris, France; beautiful this time of year. The smell of freshly baked pastries caressing your nose, while carafes of red wine stained your tongue. The city just begged to be explored, to be experienced. It was the city of love, after all, and this was the perfect time to melt into its embrace, with Valentine’s Day around the corner. You smiled, closing your eyes and thinking of the day and what it might bring: you and Edward, basking in your love, perhaps making love under the stars if a secluded space just so happens to find you. A dreamy sigh escapes your lips.

“A third sigh. Have I perhaps forgotten something und this is mein reminder?” Edward teased, putting down his tools and looking at you. The lone lightbulb in the room threw harsh shadows on his face, but you could still see the tender look he gave you.  

You look back at the post card you held in your hand, tracing the eiffel tower with the other, trying to hold onto the fantasy you were weaving in your mind. Unfortunately, you weren’t in Paris. You weren’t even in France. You were holed up in some safehouse in god knows, USA. It wasn’t even anywhere near Valentine’s day, at least according to the sweltering heat outside. But you know, given the dutiful calendar you’ve made in the back of your journal, if you were back in your time it would be just on the brink of the holiday. And so you closed your eyes, willing the February chill to grace your skin, and once again fantasized of the perfect vacation to Paris. 

“Just thinking about Paris. I want to go there one day.”  

“Paris? Why would you want to go there?” He grimaced, turning up his nose in German superiority. 

“That’s like the dream destination, is it not? The city of love~” You sigh again, holding the card to your chest. It was a dream, you knew, but sometimes that’s all you had in this zombie-riddled world. “I bet it would be soooo romantic.”  

You could hear Edward get up, his chair scraping against the floor as it was pushed by the backs of his legs. You peeked an eye open to see him saunter, yes, saunter, towards you, a knowing look in his eye. “This wouldn’t be a manifestation of a certain holiday coming up, hm?” 

You grin at him, a slight blush rising to your cheeks as a giddy feeling enveloped you. He remembered. You are both surprised and not at the same time. “Well, maybe…” You laughed, before turning towards him, the Paris postcard discarded. “Can we go somewhere cold at least? Somewhere that feels like winter?” 

“Feels like winter, hm? I can certainly try, Liebling, in fact, we do have to go to a Finnish research facility here soon-“ 

“Ah, too cold.” You wince.  

Edward chuckled, nodding along. “Very well… I suppose we can hop over to Der Riese again, I do have some things I would like to pick up from here. There’s a small abandoned village nearby, so would staying there be acceptable?”  

“I… could be agreeable to that, but what do you need from there?” 

“A doctor never reveals all his cards, fraulein.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile that cracks through your annoyed facade. Secretive Edward, who would have guessed. “As long as you make time for me on Valentine’s Day, alright?” 

“Verspreche.” 

~ 

The next morning, you packed up your things with a sense of anticipation. You couldn’t help but glance at the postcard frequently, imagining what Valentine’s Day, which according to your calendar was today, will bring you. It wouldn’t be Paris, but perhaps, with Edward by your side, it would be just as good. If anything there will be a decent bed at the village Edward mentioned, and that’s already better than what you’re used to. You placed your final few things — trinkets you’ve found on your journey, into your bag and closed it, rocking from heel to toe as you swung it on your back. 

“Ready for our departure, Lieb?” Edward asked, cramming a final blueprint into his map case. You found it comical how he was struggling to get it into the tube. Surely he didn’t need that many blueprints? 

“More than ready. I’ve been itching to get out of here the moment we got here.”  

Once Edward gave up and folded the blueprint to put in his primary bag, (the scandal!) he led you out to the yard, where Dempsey and Takeo were waiting, you idly chatted with Dempsey while waiting for Nikolai. He was only a few minutes, and soon all five of you were standing in a circle, Richtofen fishing out the summoning key. 

“We will travel straight to Der Riese first, then once I have grabbed what I need, we will walk to the village, it’s not far.” Edward said while orange sparks began to shoot out of the orb.  

“Right. Let’s just make it quick, yeah? Don’t want to spend more time there than I have to.” Dempsey gruffed. 

“Patience, Dempsey, although I know that’s not your forte.” 

The portal opened, it had decided to spit you out at the mainframe platform, and Dempsey all but shoulder checked him while he decided to be the first one through. Nikolai and Takeo followed, leaving you and Edward as the last ones there. He motioned for you to go first, and so you did, stepping through, Richtofen following you only a pace behind. You couldn’t help but feel all sorts of excitement when a cold chill nipped your skin. Oh, it truly did feel like it was Valentine’s Day. You threw him a smile, and he reciprocated it with a knowing smirk. He was doing this right, he just needed to keep it up.  

Breslau, oh how you could go the rest of your life without ever visiting again. But this time was different, you decided nothing was going to get you down. 

Nothing.  

Not a single thing. 

“All right, give me about five minutes und we will be ready to head out.” Edward said, placing the summoning key… actually, you didn’t know where he stored it. Hm. 

“Why not drop us off? Why must we loiter here with you?” Nikolai asked. He had a fair point. 

Richtofen didn’t answer, just turned on his heel to walk towards the animal testing lab. He didn’t even take a step before he paused, tensing. On instinct, without a word, the five of you drew your pistols, a stray sound finding your ears. No one should be here, and yet, it sounded like someone was. 

“What was noise?” Nikolai whispered, eyes darting back and forth as he tried to pinpoint where it came from, the echo didn’t help at all. 

“There is a… disturbance. We are not alone, Richtofen.” Takeo explained. 

“Well, if it’s a maggotsack, they’ll be zombie paste in no time.” Dempsey cocked his 1911, talking a few tentative steps down the stairs. 

“I don’t hear any moans? To be fair I’m not even sure what I did hear,” you whisper, looking at Richtofen expectantly. However he decided to play this, you’ll follow.  

He had his hand tilted forward, eyes on the ground as he strained to listen for anything else. You were right, there weren't the telltale moans and groans of the undead. It didn’t necessarily mean there was someone here, it would very well just be a wild animal, but the uncertainty was something none of you liked. “Come with me to teleporter A.” He said, eyes flicking to you. “Nikolai, Takeo, take teleporter B. I trust you can handle C, Dempsey?”  

The marine nodded, confidently taking a sharp right at the bottom of the stairs to take the right hand path to the teleporter. Nikolai and Takeo followed him, soon splitting off to investigate their respective teleporter. 

Edward cocked head towards the left and began his descent down the stairs, you followed close behind, gun drawn, eyes peeled. You climbed the stairs towards teleporter A, and soon stopped into your tracks. Another sound. More… deliberate. It was footsteps. Heavy, too heavy to be any small animal. It was distinctively human. He gave you a glance and you nodded, ready to face whoever it was. 

You creeped closer, silently, both weapons aimed and sweeping the area. More movement, now whispers? Is there more than one person? Your heart raced, your lungs held onto the air you took in, and turned the corner and-! 

“Ah, schieße! Why must you be so cruel, little machine?” Edward cooed. 

At least his voice did… but your lover’s lips didn’t move even an inch. Though, it was certainly him… but if it wasn’t him, then that means… 

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, angrily holstering your weapon. Not this, not now… 

The man who shares a voice and name with your sweetheart jerked his head towards your voice, seemingly just as shocked to see you and you were him. It was that fucking Richtofen! The older one! Jesus Christ.  

Richtofen’s surprised look melted into an unsettling grin, he excitedly walked down the stairs of the teleporter and sauntered (ugh.) over to the two of you. He cooed your name in a sickly sweet tone, and greeted Edward by his title. “Oh, what ever brings you to mein part of Deutschland?”  

“That’s truly none of your concern.” Edward answered, also holstering his Mauser. “Why are you here?”  

“Oh, mein younger self, if you are to be keeping secrets then so am I! But nothing dangerous if that’s your concern.” He groaned out the word ‘dangerous’ in that peculiar moan he does with some words.  

You felt tense, awkward, and truly you’d need a thesaurus to better explain all the complicated emotions swimming in your chest. He said your name, he knows who you are, therefore he at least remembers Camp Edward, and maybe the Pentagon. It’s been months since you last met him at the Pentagon, and even though you said goodbye to him on a good note back then, this was still not who you wanted to see on fucking VALENTINE’S DAY.  

“Truly, I thought you would be much happier to see me, fraulein, given our little rendezvous we’ve shared in the past.” His words dripped with a certain sadness. It was odd, truly. It was his dramatic flair, yes, but something about it made it sound almost… genuine under it all.  

“Richtofen,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “it’s just bad timing.” 

“Bad timing? Any time is the right time to spend with me! I’m genuinely offended.” 

“Edward and I have plans-.” 

“Oh do we, now? Ohohoh well, I’ll have to check mein schedule, but I think I can move things around…” 

“You know I’m not talking about you.”  

“Is it a special occasion? An anniversary? Mh, no that’s not it, is it? Perhaps…. A holiday? Oh I’m right on the jackpot, aren’t I?!” He gleamed, his voice reaching that high pitch he often uses. “Oh, fraulein, if you do not tell me I’m afraid I might die. I just neeeeeeed to know what’s so important.”  

You could see Edward roll his eyes from the corner of your vision, and you were half tempted to follow his lead, but you decided to just give him a tight smile, deciding to just be truthful. — what a horrible decision, really.  

“Edward and I have plans…” you repeated, hesitating for a moment, “for Valentine’s Day.” 

“What incredible timing we all have! Ach, Valentine’s Day… I haven’t celebrated that since I was a young little boy.” There goes that vocal trill again. “Walk me mich! I must hear all the details.”  

“We should get back to the others.” Edward agreed, albeit begrudgingly. Richtofen took the lead, briskly walking past you while talking about god knows what. You looked at your lover, who seemed to have aged drastically in the last few minutes just from the sheer exhaustion of dealing with his older self. He shrugged, following suit, but not before grabbing some papers and books off a table. 

“Ah, fuck, yeah that’s what I was worried about.” Your Dempsey sighed when he saw the three of you walk back to the mainframe. The rest of your group was there, as well as the other versions of themselves.  

“Hey, what’s up, Dempsey.” You said, walking over to the older marine and clasping your hand on his, bringing him into a hug. Out of the four of them, he was the most tolerable, as annoying as he was still. 

“Hey, pretty lady, fancy seeing you again.”  

You had the mind to look back and saw both Richtofens scowling. Oh, jealousy looks delicious on them— ah, you mean him. You stepped back to stand next to your lover. 

“We were all just catching up.” Tank said, knocking shoulders with his doppleganger. They both yelled out an oohrah! grinning at each other. 

“Charming. Well, I have grabbed what I needed, we can leave now.” Edward sighed, foot tapping on the concrete as his patience grew thin.  

“Oh yeah, hey, we’re going to be staying in this village close to here, y’all leaving or?” Tank asked Dempsey, which caused a strangled noise to escape Edward. 

“Dempsey!” 

“Oooooh you didn’t mention that! Oh we are more than happy to spend ein little bit of time. Und you can tell me more about our plans, ja?” Richtofen made his way between the two of you, wrapping his arms around and pulling both of you closer to him. 

You didn’t know whether Edward wanted to kill Richtofen or Dempsey first. 

He pulled away from him, huffing as he smoothed out his clothes. “Fine! Fine. Whatever. Thank you, Dempsey.”  

You could only laugh, from the sheer audacity of it all and the fact that you could see your plans for romance crumbling right before your eyes; babysitting Richtofen was a full time job. The nine of you headed to the village Edward mentioned, the night air - why was it always night when you visited this factory? - stung your warm cheeks, leaving your ears cold and nose red. With every breeze that passed, a shiver ran up your spine. You and Edward walked ahead, Richtofen keeping up and still talking! Ignoring him was a Herculean task.  

“Frauleiiiinnnnnnnnnn stop ignoring me! Everything I say is very important, you know!” He whined, he was in front of you, walking backwards to look you in the eyes. He’s been doing this for a few minutes now. “I don’t believe that man has ever even been on ein date, let alone ein Valentine’s Day one. He has barely a half baked plan, I’m sure of it.”  

Edward shot a look at his older self: 'Watch it,' it almost screamed. 

“Edward, if you ever- ough!” Richtofen stumbled back, the rock his foot got caught on skidding across the road. He landed on his ass and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh that almost mimicked a hyena’s. Now it was his turn to glare. Edward just kept walking, side stepping him. You helped him up, while still laughing in his face. “-if you ever need tips on how to throw the perfekt date, I am your man.” 

“I’m okay, truly.” 

Richtofen dusted himself off with a dissatisfied hum, but didn’t say much more. Thankfully the village was upon you now, and you all but ran to the closest house, excited to claim privacy and a BED! A GOOD BED!  

You skipped up the stairs, placing your bag on the bed, sitting down as you contemplated what you were going to do. First you need to find make up, yes. Then definitely something sexy to wear. Hair products, maybe a few accessories… If you begin looking through the village now, perhaps you’ll find everything you need for later. You nodded assuredly to no one in particular, ready to get up and begin your search, but before you could, the door to the bedroom opened, catching your attention. 

“Ah, there you are.” Edward said once he saw you. “I hope you’re not already settling down for the night, Schatz.” 

You smile at him. “No, I have things to do. I was just claiming a bed.” You stretch happily, offering your hand to him. Once he took it, you laid back, pulling him into the bed with you. 

“Ah, hallo.” Edward laughed, crawling above you. His arms braced on either side of your head. “Und these things you need to do… ist mein name on that list?”  

“Maybe.” 

He kissed you softly, resting more of his body weight on you. He was the best kind of weighted blanket; you felt caged in just the right way. You ran your tongue against his bottom lip, but he quickly pulled away, wearing a smirk as he went lower, kissing your neck with appreciative hums thrown in the mix. 

“Oh….” You moan and instinctively weave your fingers through his hair, “if you keep this up, I won’t let you out of bed.”  

“Ja?” He moaned into your skin. “Ein Valentine’s day entirely in bed… not too horrible if you ask me.” 

“If you think I’m going to let you fuck without wine-ing and dining me first, you are sorely mistaken, Herr Doktor.”  

“Fuck? Nein! Of course not, mein liebe!” He shook his head, but still trailed his lips lower, taking the first button of your shirt between his teeth and popping it loose. “But make love… well, I certainly have to try.” He popped the next button with his teeth again, using a hand to pull your leg around his waist to press closer to you, grinding down in such a delicious manner. 

“Oh, Edward...”  

“You called?” 

You yelped, pushing Edward aside to look at the owner of the intrusive voice. Edward rolled off of you, groaning in frustration while subtly adjusting himself. Richtofen stood at the door, smirking as he twirled his Luger for no real reason in particular. “Jesus Christ, Richtofen-“ 

“You know, I thought we got past the whole last name business. I distinctly remember you agreeing to call me Edward.” 

“Can we help you?”  

“I get so lonesome by meinself! You know, the others get to jack off with their doppelgängers, but you are constantly hogging mine!” 

“Jack around.” You corrected him. 

“I said what I said!” 

You roll your head to the side, looking at your lover. He just had this annoyed scowl on his face, rolling his eyes so hard you were almost afraid they would get stuck like that.  

“Ugh, I don’t get it!” Richtofen blurted out, in a much different tone than his previous words. “What did I do?”  

“Excuse me?” You ask him, furrowing your brow. You sat up, Edward’s arm slipping away from you.  

“The last time I saw you, we had this wunderbar night at the Pentagon! Und now? Now you treat me like we are still at Camp Edward! Have you met another version of meinself since then?” He asked. 

“Well, no-” 

“Then why is this like… this!” He was exasperated, gesturing wildly between you and him and Edward. If you didn’t know better you would say that tone of his was laced with… insecurity? Or a deep-seated dejection. 

“Ri—“ You paused, choosing your words carefully. “Edward. My Edward and I just have plans is all, and you’re kinda butting into it. Look, what we’ve shared was great and fun, but today is about love, romantic love.” 

He gave you another offended look like at Der Riese. “You don’t think I can be romantic? I can be ein million times more romantic than him!” 

“That’s- Edward you’re not getting the point. Tomorrow is about our—” You gesture between you and your boyfriend, “— relationship. So we just want to spend the time alone, that’s all. We don’t get alone time often.”  

Richtofen stared at you, arms crossed. Was he jealous? No, that couldn’t be right. “Ach, he is mein younger self, you’re practically in a relationship with the both of us, ja?” 

“We are from separate dimensions. You know that.” Edward piped up, looking at the older man from under his brows.  

“Fine! Whatever, you’re the ones missing out, not me.” He huffed, throwing his arms down into fists, a flair of childlike dramatics to his action. He turned on his heel and stomped out, still talking under his breath. “I am the most romantic person on the planet! In the universe! I could give you ein actual HEART if you…” His voice trailed off as he got farther away, leaving the two of you laying there in silence. 

“Is he really upset?” You ask. 

“Him?” Edward barked out a laugh. “Ja, I’m suuuure he is… nein it’s just his dramatics. You should know this by now, Liebling.”  

He was a dramatic person, and while some things did seem a bit dramatic during that conversation, you were almost inclined to think a portion of it might actually have been genuine. “I feel bad…” — the start of a sentence that made Edward also sit up, looking at you with a confused look. 

“What for?” 

You laid back on the bed, tracing idle circles into the comforter as you struggled to find the right words. “I just… I don’t know, didn’t he seem genuinely… jealous? To you?”  

“Oh come on now, mein Herzchen. You know very well whatever feelings he does feel — if he does feel anything at all, we’re still studying that — it’s not genuine. If he is jealous, it’s the same type of jealousy ein child feels when another plays with ein neglected toy. He only wants what he can’t have.”  

Your gaze, which was on Edward, flicked away at his words. A part of you wanted to believe that; it would make everything easier if it was true — him seeing you as just an enjoyable fuck and nothing more… but another part of you, it was scared that your Edward was wrong. That Richtofen was… was feeling something. “Maybe we shouldn’t have ran him off…” 

“He is not ruining our day.” 

“Who said he would? Is it crazy to think he was being genuine?” 

“Liebe, do I really have to answer that question?” He asked, exasperated. You shot him a look but quickly let it melt away, you didn’t want to argue with him… not now.  

“Hey, I’m going to find what I need for later. I’ll meet you in the street in an hour?” 

“Hour thirty?” He asked. 

“Deal.” 

You lean over and kiss him gently, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours. They were chapped, but still soft. He tried to deepen the kiss but you pushed him away, shaking your head. He could only laugh. “Bis später, Doctor.”  

“Bis bald, Liebe.”  

~ 

Now, the cold night air was a welcomed relief after the heat of the house. You and Edward parted ways, deciding to keep some surprises for the actual date. There were a few little stores further into town and so you decided to hit them up first. A small corner store was your first stop, the jingle of the bell ringing out as you opened the door. A lone light swayed back and forth on the ceiling, flickering and buzzing in an eerie way. You’d probably turn right back around if you didn’t see your Dempsey walking through the store, his lighter held in hand as he used it to look closer at some of the items. The welcome chime caused him to look at you, a smile finding his face. 

“Hey, you also looking for something decent to eat? Found some… I think beans? I don’t really know.” He held up a can.  

“Oh, no thanks, Dempsey, I’m actually just looking for some stuff for my date with Edward tonight.” You tell him. You look around for a moment before grabbing two candles from a shelf, holding them in front of Dempsey. He got the hint and lit both of them before flicking his light closed and taking one. He muttered a thanks. 

“Date, huh? Didn’t know he was capable of that.”  

You ignored the comment, choosing instead to browse through the selection of items at your disposal. This general store seemed to have a small section for everything — and make up was no exception. Red lipstick and blush, dark eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara. You were happy to take anything and even happier to take these bold colours that were sure to make you look like a bombshell. The door chimed again as you were looking for a mirror and brush. Dempsey greeted Nikolai warmly, so it must be your Nikolai. 

“… can of beans? You know, where I come from, sharing is caring.” Nikolai said to Dempsey. You couldn’t help, but tune into their conversation. 

“Hey, this is none of that communist crap. Do you want it to not?”  

“Da. Thank you, comrade.” Nikolai taunted, yanking the can away from the American before he could take back his offer. He then turned his attention to you, wordlessly wondering what you were up to. Dempsey sensed his questioning look. 

“Date night with Richtofen, apparently.” 

“I didn’t know he was capable of such thing.”  

Dempsey laughed, slapping Nikolai on the back. “You ain’t so bad sometimes.” You shot both men a glare, shaking your head as you picked up the mirror you were looking for. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” You asked them. 

“Nope.” “Nyet.” 

“Good, because I’ll need your opinions, c’mon, move your asses.”  

You all but dragged them out of the store, out into the German street. They complained but you didn’t let up, walking down the street with two confused men in tow. You peered into windows as you went, looking, searching, and you almost squealed in delight when you found what you were searching for. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you would. 

“A clothing store, really?” Dempsey sighed, annoyed but still walking ahead to open the door for you. You thanked him as you breached the doorway, flicking on the lights. It was indeed a clothing store, one that looked to mostly specialize in women’s fashion. Dresses were hung on racks, while three mannequins wore whatever was the style for the season in the windowsill. They were all a little old fashioned for your taste, but that might just be a homerun with Edward. 

“Alright, listen. Today is Valentine’s Day if you didn’t know and I need something that screams ‘I don’t want to make it through dinner,’ you understand?” Dempsey made fake — or possibly real — gagging noises. You chose to ignore it. “So, I’m going to try on some dresses, you two will give me ACTUAL feedback until we find the perfect dress.”  

“Can we say n-“ 

“No.”  

You sauntered around the men, looking through the dresses, there were pretty blues, periwinkles, mint… you grabbed every dress that was your size and went into the dressing room, humming happily as you put the blue dress on. It was simple, one you’d imagine a good girl would wear. You soon stepped out of the dressing area donned in the fabric, giving a twirl to show it off. “Thoughts?” 

“You tryin’ to seduce him as a milkmaid or something?” Dempsey asked, raising his eyebrow. 

“You remind me of my mother, back in the warm summers of Tsaritsyn. Very calming.”  

You nod, turning on your heel. “Calming is not what I’m going for.” You pull the curtain closed behind you and throw the dress off, instead picking up the periwinkle one and shimmying into it. You walk back to your showcase spot, once again doing a twirl. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s fine.” Dempsey shrugged. 

“Just fine?”  

“It’s… not flattering colour on your skin.” Nikolai elaborated.  

“It makes you look almost sickly. Fuck, maybe that’s what get the doc’s engines revving. If so then it’s perfect.” 

“Oh fuck off, Dempsey.” You did this quite a few times, going through dress after dress, getting more lukewarm responses than you’d hoped. At least they were honest. They were… shockingly useful at this. It wasn’t until you got to your last garment, almost out of hope, that you felt a dash of surprise mixed with joy. It was a red, almost maroon thing. You didn’t get a good look at it in the main part of the store. Hell, you barely even looked at it when you tore it off the hanger, but now as you held it up? Your smile widened as you put it on, sauntering out to the boys. “So?” 

Dempsey’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline, his mouth gaping as he stared, taking you in, Nikolai wasn’t much better: he was flushed as he looked anywhere but you. 

“That’s… that’s uh…” Dempsey tried. 

“A winner.” You finish his sentence, posing ever so seductively. Now both the men are blushing now. You laugh and flit away to grab a pair of heels. “But it’s not complete until my make up is done. You can run along now, I got my use out of you.”  

Then men nodded, not trusting their mouths, swiftly making their exit, leaving you to do your makeup and hair in peace. It didn’t take long; you kept your hair simple, spending most of the time on your bombshell makeup. You gave yourself a once over before checking the clock, seeing that it was time to meet Edward. You made your way out of the store, walking down the street to the beat of your heels echoing off the barren streets. The click clacking of your heels made you more confident, turning your simple walk to a strut as you shifted your hips from side to side with each step. You felt powerful, like you could take on the world, like you could seduce the world. As you saw Edward step into the street, perhaps heeding the call of your presence, you were going to put that theory in motion. His eyes found you, sharing a similar look that Dempsey had: high strung eyebrows with his mouth agape. His hand, which held a bouquet of flowers, faltered, falling to his side.  

“Wow…” Edward only managed to whisper the word, drinking in your appearance as you walked closer. His eyes flicked down to the black heels that echoed the pounding of his heart, up your stocking covered leg, seeing how that slit in that maroon dress went higher and higher and higher. Scandalously high, ever teasing your hip. His gaze trailed higher, to the cinched in waist then up to the plunged neckline that barely kept your breasts in. It stayed there for quite a few beats before flicking up to your face, taking in your wine red lips, rouge blush and dark smokey eye. “You look… ah…” 

“You clean up well, yourself.” You tease. He changed, like you did, now donning a three piece that hugged his form well, accentuating his broad shoulders and impossibly thin waist. You pulled him closer by it, cocking your head up to kiss him. He got the hint, leaning down and eagerly pressing his lips to yours hard. When the two of you disconnected, you could only laugh as you saw his lips were now stained a pink colour. “You’re wearing my lipstick.” 

“Und how does it look on me? Does it match mein complexion?” He laughed and you couldn’t help but join in, soon leaving the two of you grinning at each other like idiots. Edward snapped out of it quickly. “Ach, these are for you,” he said, remembering the bouquet he held tightly in his fist. He brought them up and you inhaled their floral scent, letting your eyes close as you savored it. 

“What a thoughtful man you are.” 

“Only the best, for mein special Frau, on this special day.” 

The two of you walked silently, hand in hand. It was… comfortable. A word you are not used to using ever since this whole undead fiasco started. “Ah, hold on, I have some jewelry in my bag I’d like to put on.” You pull him towards the house you claimed, noticing how the downstairs lights were on. Odd, you thought you turned them all off. You reach the door and push it open, a gasp catching in your throat at what laid ahead. 

Every surface of the living room was covered in bouquets. The coffee table was filled with daisies and tulips, the entertainment center with Hyacinths and dandelions. Other tables and pulled out chairs had primroses and snowdrops, violets and hepaticas, forget-me-nots and poppies. And in the thick of it sat a very pleased looking Richtofen, twirling a lone Edelweiss between his thumb and forefinger. He had ditched the coat, the hat, and even the gloves. He merely donned his white button up, black tie (sans the pin), his normal slacks, and boots. Extremely underdressed for him. 

“Ah, Fraulein, you made it not ein moment too soon.” He smiled, stretching his long legs before standing up to stalk closer to you. You look back at Edward, who was now looking at his lone bouquet with a sheepish look. Just as soon as you saw it, Richtofen was upon you, grabbing your chin and tilting it back towards him. He brushed some hair away to place the Edelweiss behind your ear. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” In your hand, he placed a bar of chocolate that had a red bow tied to it. It was… sweet? What the hell was going on here??  

“Richtof-“ 

“Edward.” 

“…Edward, what… the hell is all this?” You were at a loss for what to say, you didn’t even have the mind to say thank you. You just… stared. 

“Romance, ja? I saw that our little lover boy was getting flowers, so I followed his lead, but did it much better.” 

Richtofen led you into the room by the small of your back, parading you around to each bundle of flowers. He all but shoved them into your face, begging you to smell them. By the time you got around the room and back, your head was spinning from the gorgeous scents that overwhelmed your senses. You were passed back to Edward, whose lips were in a tight line, a certain anger in his gaze. 

“Didn’t you say you have some jewelry you needed to fetch, Schatz? Why don’t you go do that while I have a talk with mein older self.”  

You felt the tension. It was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. You wordlessly nodded and ascended up the stairs slowly, looking back with each step you took, almost nervous about what Edward would do. I mean, you knew he wasn’t above shooting his other self. 

Whatever was said was in hushed words, keeping it down to where you couldn’t make any words out. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if they also switched to German. You took your time getting the necklace on — a simple thin gold chain with a diamond piece — making sure it sat perfectly on your cleavage. The matching earrings were next as you took a deep breath to brace yourself to go back downstairs. If you were about to find a dead body you’d rather steel yourself ahead of time. 

Thankfully, there wasn’t a Richtofen corpse lying in a bed of tulips. They were standing together, waiting for your descent, hands clasped behind their backs. For a moment they truly looked identical, reminding you that Richtofen is what you had to look forward to when Edward was older. Not personality wise, you hoped, but looks. If Edward really did age to look like his older self, you wouldn’t be disappointed at all. 

“Are you ready to go, Eddie?”  

Edward cleared his throat, looking at you then to his older counterpart, a wary, yet resolute look to his eyes. “Ja, mein liebe, if… you don’t mind company on our outing.” You raised an eyebrow at his words, stopping in your tracks just before the last step down. You silently asked him to explain. “Ah… Edward, here, will be joining us for dinner.”  

“Is he now?” 

“Jawohl.” 

You gave him another beat to say just kidding or, really, anything. When it didn’t come you shrugged, taking the last step and walking over to the men. You kiss your Edward and then turn to the other, narrowing your eyes before giving him the slightest slap on his cheek. “Behave.”  

“You might as well tell me not to breathe.” 

Both Edwards led you out of the house, sneaking silently through the underbrush until you came across a small hillside that led towards a calm river. A small blanket was thrown out that hosted a basket, wine bottle and a few candles ready to be lit. It was simple, but oh, did it make your heart soar. Edward really was trying to make this the best Valentine’s Day he could. Your Edward ushered you to sit as he tasked his other self to light the candles while he got out the food. Fruits, cheeses, sausages, and crackers were all arranged on a charcuterie board. Once the candles were lit, both Edwards sat down on either side of you, pouring the wine and feeding you fruit. 

“So what is this, truly?” You ask, looking at Edward then rolling your head to look at Richtofen. 

“I am simply showing mein younger self how to properly treat a woman. Open.” He ordered then fed you a grape, tracing your bottom lip with his finger. “Und perhaps to show you there are better Richtofens spend your time with. You got dealt a bad hand on that one ohoho-Ach!” He reeled his hand away from where it was behind you, you could only imagine what Edward stabbed it with in response to that comment. 

“I didn’t know you were the… romantic type, to be honest.” 

“Fraulein, you don’t know most things about me. Ja, mein idea of a good time is slashing und gutting the hoards, or perhaps stealing a few spleens from our schleeping colleagues, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to be what’s considered… traditionally romantic. It’s just boring most times.” 

“Most times? Is this one of those times?” 

He paused for a moment, eyes flicking towards you before grabbing another fruit, this time a strawberry, bringing it to your lips. Your teeth grazed his fingertips as you bit down. “It’s still early.”  

Edward tipped the wineglass up to your lips and you took a swig, the liquid feeling luxurious as it travelled down your throat. As soon as you swallowed, Richtofen was feeding you another bite of cheese, sausage, and ground mustard on a cracker. You ate it greedily, hunger twisting in your stomach, but it wasn’t entirely for food... 

“You look ravishing tonight, mein Liebe.” Edward sighed into your ear, turning your head with two fingers. He kissed you gently, savouring the moment. It was chaste, but it said everything that needed to be said. He brought the wine back up to your lips. Another sip. Another bite of food from the other’s hand.  

“Fraulein, I have met ein thousand women in mein day, und yet, none even came close to the beauty you effortlessly possess.”  

Your eyes shot up high, cheeks exploding in a blushing fury as the words escaped Richtofen’s lips. You have never heard him say anything like that. Who is this man and what did he do with the evil Edward Richtofen you know? You couldn’t even squeak out a reply because as soon as he spoke those words he was pulling you into a kiss. At first it was much like Edward’s, until he deepened it, tongue gently wiggling into your mouth, caressing your own as if he was mapping each and every taste bud on it. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. Richtofen pulled back and smirked, not at you, but at his younger self. 

Edward looked displeased to say the least. His lips were in that tight line again as he stared at Richtofen. You could swear you saw the vein in his forehead bulge. The glare disappeared as he looked at you, a wave of confidence enveloping him. You were given another drink of wine, but before Richtofen could feed you Edward had your face in both his hands, looking deep into your eyes. “You shine brighter than any star, burn brighter than any flame, und can kill a man with ein look alone. You make me burn up, schatzi. You make me ache with love, with want, with need.”  

He pressed his lips to yours hard, devouring you in a kiss so deep it left you breathless. He tasted the backs of your teeth, swirled around your tongue, and coaxed it into his mouth, sucking on it so deliciously. Another moan was coaxed out, but this time louder.  

And Richtofen didn’t take too kindly to that. He pulled you away from Edward, roughly bringing your face to his and smashing your lips together even harder. Your lips might be bruised and battered by the time they were through with you. He forced his tongue into your mouth, along with… something else. A foreign intruder that startled you, until he maneuvered it to your molars, and forced you to bite down. A kaleidoscope of flavour exploded on your tongue, syrup coating yours and his as the chocolate began to melt on your teeth. You recognized the flavour as those chocolate candies that have the cherry inside. Soon enough the two of you were pushing the small cherry around your mouth, groans and grunts leaving the two of you. You knew those candies weren’t alcoholic, but you were beginning to rethink that by how your head was swimming. He finally wrapped his tongue around the cherry and drug it back into his own mouth to swallow, teasing you with just the taste of it. 

You gasped, panting hard as you pulled away to swallow the thick syrup. You could only look up at the stars that twinkled as the two of them attacked your neck, kissing and sucking as if you were dinner tonight. The wineglass was pressed against your lips again, more food shoved into your mouth and you could barely register anything that was going on as they tore at your clothes. Did they at some point become undead? It certainly felt like it, the way they were devouring you. 

“What are- what is- what-“ You couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.  

“Fraulein didn’t you say we must take you to dinner first before we ravished you again?” The older man hummed, laughing into your skin when you yelped from a harsh bite. 

“But-“ 

“Mein alter counterpart had a point. What better way to celebrate the occasion than by being thoroughly fucked.” 

Ah, that must be what they were talking about in the house. 

You tried to protest, tried to explain that today was about romance, about love! But the more they worshiped you, the more they kissed and sucked and pulled and groped… the more you were happy to think of this as romance. Your dress was harshly pulled down by Richtofen as Edward worked your bra clasp open, tossing aside the offending piece of fabric. They both had one goal in mind: ravishing your breasts. They both latched onto your nipples and laid you back fully to have their way with you. Edward was gentle, suckling as he gazed up at you from under those pretty eyelashes while Richtofen was anything but. He sucked hard, teeth grazing and biting, sending jolts of delicious pain to your core. The harsh difference between how the men attended to your breasts had you reeling. 

Edward trailed his kisses down to your stomach and then lower, pushing your dress down as he went. You were out in the open; if anyone came to investigate they would see your almost fully nude body. Why didn’t you care? Richtofen’s hand replaced where Edward’s mouth once was, pinching and twisting the now neglected nipple.  

“Edward, have you ever seen such ein fine specimen?” Your lover asked, pushing aside your damp underwear. Your folds were attacked by the cold, but quickly soothed as he drug his thumb along it. Richtofen pulled away from his work on your breasts, going to join Edward at your lower half. 

“How gorgeous this little cunt is. Have you experimented with it, Doktor?”  

“Ah, quite right, Doktor. I have found it to be quite… sensitive. Very responsive. But of course, there’s always more experiments to run. I would love to have ein second opinion.”  

Richtofen smirked, also touching your now drenched slit. Edward thumbed at your clit while the other pushed into your hole, feeling you flutter with every stroke of the younger’s on your bundle of nerves. “Jawohl. Very sensitive, indeed. Have you completed any oral experimentation?” 

“Of course, I am very thorough… however an observer is crucial when it comes to such tests, ja?” 

You simply groaned, loving how they spoke about you as if you were just a test subject, but hating that they weren’t actively fucking you in any capacity. Edward finally relented at your whining, pulling your dress and panties all the way off before burying his face into your pussy. His lips closed around your clit, tongue lashing at the nub while he gave slow, hard sucks. He used the tip of his tongue to flick it back and forth, up and down, pressing harder, licking faster as you mewled and cried out from sheer ecstasy. Richtofen watched intensely, holding your leg open to get a good view of what his doppelgänger was doing. 

You were so close, you twitched and clawed at the blanket, legs so desperately wanting to close around Edward’s head but stopped by Richtofen’s strong hands. You could feel the coil in your core wind tighter and tighter following the tight circles of Edward’s insistent tongue on your clit. You moan out their names, shaking as you reach your peak, coming hard under Edward’s attention. He broke the seal of his lips, ducking his head a bit lower to catch your climax on his tongue, his nose pushing against your sensitive clitoris as he lapped you up like a starved man. When he was satisfied, he sat back on his haunches, looking proud with a very obvious tent in his trousers. The satisfied smirk on his lips lasted only until Richtofen opened his mouth — many such cases. 

Richtofen clicked his tongue thrice, shaking his head in disappointment. “Ach, I knew you were a lost cause, Edward.” He said, harshly pulling him out from between your legs. “This is how you properly eat a cunt. Perhaps take notes?” 

Richtofen gave you an overconfident grin, before he too dove into your overstimulated pussy. He plunged his tongue into your hole, slurping and twisting it around while his nose rubbed against your throbbing clit. It was too much, oh so much. You cried out again, legs clamping around his head as your hands tried to push him away. He only laughed into your abused flesh, hooking an arm around your leg to keep himself anchored in place. Once he got his fill of your juices, he pulled his tongue out to focus on your bundle of nerves while he stuffed his fingers inside you, fucking you with them brutally. 

“Fuck, Edward!” You cried out as he bit down on your clit, grabbing his hair and pulling hard, but that only seemed to fuel him. He grazed his teeth on it a few more times, each time making more whines and pleas to escape your throat. It hurt, oh god it hurt, but in a way that had you speeding towards the finish line. 

He crooked his fingers in precisely the right way, pushing hard against that spongy part inside you over and over until you came, stars bursting in your vision. You screamed into the hand he quickly placed over your mouth as you clamped down hard on his fingers, crushing his digits in waves as you rode out your high. Your clit throbbed harder as the onslaught overwhelmed your frazzled senses. Your body thrashed, hands pulled his hair tightly, mouth begging words that disappeared into his palm. It was only when you went entirely limp, too overstimulated to fight anymore, that he pulled away gasping, face absolutely drenched in your juices. He pulled his fingers out — even with being overstimulated you whined from the empty feeling — and brought them to his mouth, sucking greedily to get every drop off.  

“Wouldn’t you say that was much better, fraulein?” He laughed, looking smugly at Edward.  

You couldn’t say anything, you could barely breathe. Your body was numb and frayed at the same time and horribly you could still feel the ghost of his mouth torturing your poor cunt. Your chest heaved with the effort it took to bring in air. Better? He’s trying to kill you! Your mind was clouded from overzealous pleasure, barely registering you were naked laying spread eagle on the blanket in the grass out in the open. Well, you weren’t entirely naked as you still had your thigh highs on, but your heels had been kicked off at some point during this whole… cunnilingus-fest. 

“I think our subject is fried.” Richtofen hummed, at least you assumed it was the older one, you were too exhausted to check. “Her pussy is still pulsing, perhaps her senses have been overloaded. Pity. I assumed she could take more.” 

“Oh, she can.” A similar voice said, or was that Richtofen? Why do they sound so similar right now!? “We just need to give her a reason to. Liebling, watch.”  

The way his voice commanded you with such authority had your eyes opening and hazily focusing on them. They were unfastening buttons on their clothing, shedding the fabric while keeping intense eye contact with you. They dared you to look away and with each inch of delicious skin getting shared with you, you wouldn’t dream of it. You didn’t notice until now how scarred the older man’s body was. They were light, healed, almost imperceptible until you were ogling it as you were now. You could see some softness to his belly that Edward had yet to gain, but it didn’t detract to his attractiveness. Soon the men were kneeling naked in front of you, heaving, rock hard and eating you alive with their eyes. At least for a moment, before Richtofen shifted towards his younger self, eyeing his body. 

“Mh, I had such a fantastic body at that age. The fact you hide it from the world is an injustice, truly.”  

In a move that even shocked you, knocking you immediately out of your orgasm-induced daze, Richtofen reached out, wrapping a hand around Edward’s cock and pumping it lazily, dragging his foreskin down to fully uncover the tip. His head was cocked to the side and a large grin painted his face. 

Edward reeled back, slapping the other’s hand off his dick, entirely bewildered with anger bubbling up to the surface. “Was zum teufel?”  

“Was? Ugh don’t be such a prude. It’s glorified masturbation.” Richtofen reached for him again, but was once again swatted away. 

“Don’t touch me with your filthy hands!” 

“Oh, I’m allowed to stuff your girlfriend’s cunt with mein filthy hands aber you draw the line at yourself, hm?” Richtofen was baiting him, egging him on to give in and fuck you were almost sure it was working. “C’mon Edward, look at her and tell me she was not enjoying it.” He said, two sets of gazes now pointed at you. 

You laid there, eyes lidded as you had indeed enjoyed watching the other man grope your lover. It was a twisted kind of enjoyment you knew, but Edward on Edward action made your abused cunt gush back to life, aching for more. You bit your lip as you slowly nodded. “Bitte.”  

Bitte. 

And that seemed like it was enough. 

Richtofen wrapped his fist around Edward’s cock again, but this time he wasn’t swatted away. With an uneasy stare, he watched as foreign yet so familiar hands pumped his leaking shaft, groaning as he hit all the right spots, squeezed all the right areas, and at just the right speed. “Ah- ah fick.” The younger man gasped, hips jolting. 

“I have played with this Schwanz for decades now und I know exactly how to drive you wild. Move over Fraulein, let him lay down.” Unceremoniously, Richtofen grabbed Edward and pushed him down. Your lover tumbled next to you, barely getting his bearings before Richtofen was laid behind him, sandwiching Edward between the two of you. Richtofen grabbed his cock again, pumping and twisting his wrist in just the right way to have his doppelganger arching his back so deliciously while little moans tumbled out. “Go on, play with his sack.” How could you say no? 

You groped him, squeezing his balls before rolling them in your palm. You could feel it tighten when Richtofen ran his thumb along his tip, collecting the precum and pushing him closer to ecstasy. Edward was panting, lolling his head back and forth, letting bits of German fall from his tongue. “Isn’t- schieße.. aren’t we supposed to be focusing- ach! on… on mein…” He trailed off, unable to complete a single sentence, but still looking at you though heavily lidded eyes to infer it. 

“She’s enjoying it plenty, but if you do insist…” Richtofen stopped playing his counterpart’s cock, “Use him, get your fill again, but do not let him cum, ja? Our little Edward deserves to be tortured.” He let out a manic laugh. He offered you a hand, and with it, you swung your leg over Edward’s hips, rutting your folds on his weeping cock before impaling yourself. He sunk into you deliciously, kissing your cervix with the head. “Ride him like a bitch in heat.” 

And my god, you did. 

You slammed your hips down on him with a bruising pace, using his cock like a toy to get yourself off. You watched as Richtofen grabbed Edward’s hand, placing it on his own neglected cock. Perhaps Edward was already too fucked out to care or it was something else entirely, but he began to stroke the older man, sloppily with less finesse he received, but it had Richtofen throwing his head back in a laugh turned moan, saying what you can imagine is downright filthy things in German. 

Edward’s other hand gripped on your hip tightly as he began thrusting upward, snapping his hips in time to your bouncing. His eyes flicked from your drenched and filled cunt, watching his throbbing prick plunge deep inside, to your breasts which swayed and jiggled with each grind of your hips.  

“Tick tock, schlampe, reach your climax before he does, or not at all.” Richtofen ordered. 

You nodded, closing your eyes and focused on the build up. You narrowed in to the sensation of Edward’s cock hitting just the right spot in you, in tandem of your clit smashing against his pubic bone with each push of your hips together. You felt the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching, feeling that familiar coil once again wind up until it snapped inside you like a molten rubber band. You arched your back violently, shuttering and sobbing from the force. He still shoved his cock into your fluttering pussy over and over, chasing down his own orgasm that was sped up by your tightening inner muscles. Before he could find it, Richtofen was lifting you off, placing your jellied body on your hands and knees. He had to hold you to keep you from collapsing, but that was no problem for the strong older man. You didn’t miss how your lover whined from the loss of your tight cunt. Without warning, he pushed your head into the blanket and thrusted inside you from behind. You were already warmed up, just how he liked. He pounded into you with such force you began sliding against the blanket, feeling the rough fabric burn your cheek and knees. You anchored yourself with two fistfuls of the cloth.  

“Ja… mh… so gut. Ach, you’re so gut. You ruin me, fraulein.” Richtofen grunted, words punctuated by every thrust. With one hand he kept you in place, the other palmed roughly at your breast. Your fourth orgasm hit you like a freight train. It was unexpected, like a cork of a champagne bottle popping. Tears welled up and dripped down to the blanket as the pleasure was blinding. You couldn’t make a noise besides a single, strangled gasp. Even with your silence, your bodily reactions said everything. He felt you cum, felt your pussy flutter and squeeze and clench down on his cock. He only fucked you faster, clawing at you skin as if trying to rip you apart. “Nnnngh… ja, mein hure, mein Hündin… mein… lieb-ach!” 

He stilled, spilling his hot seed deep into your cunt. His cockhead was insistent against your cervix as it throbbed and twitched. A few more shallow thrusts to chase the end of his orgasm was all he could afford before he collapsed onto the coarse fabric, his softening cock slipping out and laying limply on his lower stomach. You were now sandwiched between the men, not that you minded. 

The three of you were heaving, trying to take all the oxygen in the atmosphere greedily into your lungs. Richtofen was spent, you felt overused, and yet Edward was still hard as a rock, aching, not quite having his fill. Richtofen noticed, and was quick to rectify that. 

“Edward, make love to her under the stars. Langsam. Properly.” 

“Since when did you become the director of this play?” Edward asked, while still getting up to lay between your legs. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slender hips even when your body said it was too overworked to do anything. His tip bobbed against your entrance and with a careful push, he slowly filled you to the hilt. You whimpered as your body protested the intrusion.  

Richtofen sat up, grabbing something that had been long discarded. Soon he was laying on his side, facing you, watching you as he brought a kiwi slice up to your lips. You let him place it on your tongue and you playfully licked his digit as he did so. A wicked smile graced his lips as you ate the fruit, feeling the refreshing bite of the liquid race down your throat while Edward began to finally make love to you, right under the stars, just as you wanted. His thrusts were slow and languid, Sweet German nothings whispered softly into your ear as Richtofen continued to feed you during the passion. Was this heaven? Was this the greed, the glutton, the lust they’ve spoken about in the Bible? If this was wrong, you never wanted to be right. 

This time your orgasm flowed over you in a stream of muted pleasure, perhaps underwhelming for most, but it was exactly what you needed after the onslaught these men — mostly Richtofen — had put you through. It was a sweet release, just as sweet as the fruit juices dancing on your tongue. You looked into Edward’s eyes as you had your final orgasm, hand reaching out to hold Richtofen’s, lacing your fingers with his. You don’t know why you did it, but it felt… right. Right. 

Edward came shortly after you, shivering and sighing ‘Ich liebe dich’s against your lips. When he was spent, he too pulled out and collapsed next to you. The two men were cuddled on both sides, caressing your body, in a more… sensual way. 

“We are… lying naked on a hill,” you finally say, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “You think anyone heard?”  

“I would be concerned they were deaf if they didn’t.” Edward sighed. You could tell he was coming back to his senses.  

“Gut. I hope they did, I hope they are soooo jealous I am getting mein dick wet und not them. Especially Dempshey.” The older man smirked. 

The three of you once again got mostly dressed. Well, enough dressed to walk back to the house you picked. You were really getting deja vu, remembering scrambling to get dressed at the Pentagon. You didn’t bother with the food, or the wine, or anything for that matter. Edward carried you “home” with Richtofen in tow, sluggishly climbing the stairs and dumping you under the covers. Two warm bodies cuddled against you on both sides.  

‘You better get used to this happening each time you come across the older Richtofen’ A little voice in your head said to you. That wouldn’t be hard to do, you decided. 

“I hope this Valentine’s Day was… adequate.” Edward sighed, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Adequate?” You asked, voice slurred from the sleep that threatened to overtake you. “I got thoroughly wined and dined and fucked by my two favourite men. This was the Valentine’s Day of all Valentine’s Days.” 

“Two favourite, hm? I suppose I could live with that.” Richtofen piped up. “Although I hope next time it’s my turn to be spoiled. Let’s see… I want blood und guts und spleens? Ja, spleens would make the doctor very happy.”  

“And I thought you were romantic?” You teased. He playfully pinched your nipple while huffing. 

“I said I can be romantic, und I think I rigorously proved that tonight. I didn’t lose all of meinself to 115, you know. There’s still a part of me, somewhere, deep inside. It seems to spring out when… I’m with you, Fraulein.” He looked uncomfortable with his own words, either by not meaning to say them out loud, or by not meaning to think of them at all. He quickly cleared his throat and changed the subject, the vulnerability too much for him. “I hope I taught you a thing or two, Edward?” 

Edward didn’t respond and looking over to him confirmed what you assumed, he was out like a light, snoring softly. The poor man was worn. You giggled, turning your attention back to the man currently pressing closer to you. “I’m sure you did.” 

He smiled at you, a genuine smile. It was followed by a chaste, but passionate kiss and when you closed your eyes, you swore it felt just like how your lover would kiss you. “Ich lieb-“ he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Ich habe dich lieb.”  

“Ich habe dich lieb?” You whisper, not quite understanding. 

“Ja. Just leave it as that for now. Gute Nacht, mauschën.” 

You wanted to argue, you wanted to know what he said, but with the serious tone his voice had, something that chilled you to the bone, you decided to not press, for now. “Gute Nacht, Eddie,”  

Another genuine smile. Oh, how he’s spoiling you. 

You fell asleep in the arms of your two Edwards again, feeling safe and secure and entirely loved. How was this going to end? You had no idea. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to debate the intricacies of this time travelled fuelled intimacy you shared with the both of them. You were going to just enjoy the ride while you were on it, especially today. 

Truly the Valentine’s Day of all Valentine’s days indeed. 

This fic on Ao3

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I'd appreciate it if you left kudos!

[listofwhyyouloveher]

(only if you wanna--) can you do the outsiders characters × a reader that's, like, very soft? ghibli movie vibes as a person, the type of person to be elbows deep in diy projects and homemade recipes, very stereotypically domestic and grandparentcore-esque?

no idea if that makes sense. if it doesn't, disregard. lol. i'm just a sucker for fluffy domestic bs.

Summary: the outsiders w domestic!reader

Warnings: none

Author's Note: don't get me wrong I love my little Rollercoaster relationships but in the end I really want a domestic s/o too

PONYBOY CURTIS

he's not into very loud and obnoxious girls so your perfect for him

he confessed through a paper bouquet made from your favorite books and scrap paper that had meaning to you

Likes to read books with you and just chill on a weekend

If you bake pastries he's gonna eat them all.

SODAPOP CURTIS

He finds you so soothing, especially after his mother passed

You provide comfort that he forgot he could get, especially with Darry and Pony constantly fighting

Likes to help you do crafts because he's good with tools

Hung up the fairy lights in your room for you and even asked you to help him put fairy lights in Ponys room

JOHNNY CADE

He treats you as if you are glass because he's a greaser and to him you are so pure.

He likes to bake with you but his favorite part is eating it.

Every now and then you swap books and annotate with each other

If you make him an art piece or drawing, he's either folded it up and put it in his jacket or hung it on his bedroom wall.

STEVE RANDLE

Finds you a nice balance of greaser and soc because of your mild mannerisms. It's refreshing to him

Keeps the closest eye on you, ready to step in whenever there's trouble (whether or not you can or can't handle it)

Finds your hobbies insanely adorable and invites you to his place just to watch you do them

He has a need for constant reassurance that he's not a bad boyfriend because sometimes you guys don't see eye to eye.

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

He is probably one of kindest greaser you'll meet.

He loves you so much and introduced you to his sister as soon as possible.

He learned knitting/crocheting from you along with his sister and

Gets you a scrapbook because he knows you like to dry the flowers he gets you.

DARRY CURTIS

most domestic of them all. Let's be real!!

He finds you so attractive because of how kind and caring you are.

He let's you serve the desserts you make after dinner and finds them to be the best things he's ever tried

really enjoys your presence and likes to just sit alone with you in silence for a little to 'recharge'

DALLAS WINSTON

where do I even start.

He is NOT domestic at all, and actually finds you a little annoying because you are.

You're like the comforting presence he never had and it's really hard for him to accept it

You treat him more like a child than anything, like scolding and lecturing him etc. He finds it really annoying but also can sometimes find it endearing. Idk it depends on his mood.

[a-d-nox]

wyrd web: what to gift a person based these three numbers

this is just a theory of mine because these bubbles of the matrix should represent earthly desires. this is not to say that you can't enjoy things not listed in your category / under your energetic number. this is simply what i believe people with these numbers would enjoy receiving as a gift.

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

2 - the high priestess

things that support their spiritual practices, things that support feminine health (hum women's probiotics bundle, honey pot oral vaginal care probiotic, etc), bake goods / baking gear, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads pt 2), bar in a jar (for those of drinking age) or really any beverage tester kit, bath/spa kit, beach vacation, boat, cruise, careof for brain support, truly nice melons boob butter, candles (it doesn't have to be yankee candle either - bent candles, spiced votive candle, etc) or candle making kit, imported cheeses, clothing staples (blue jeans, black turtleneck, etc), juice cleanse or other things that support digestive health, cooking classes or meal kits (hellofresh, homechef, etc), a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, or outdoor cameras or other home security tools

3 - the empress

pillows, stuffed animals, rose quartz, personal celebrity cameo, clothing, tickets for an art museum tour, ballet tickets or classes, art supplies, makeup pallets and/or brushes, flowers, jewelry, candy/sweets, money, bells / wind chimes, clothing, designer pieces, cosmetics, dolls, a trip to a fancy restaurant, fruit basket / dried fruits, gardening supplies, jewelry, concert/orchestra tickets, poetry book, tickets to a play, a purse, lingerie (if y'all are close like that), trip to a vineyard (for those of drinking age), couples' dancing classes, or a wallet

4 - the emperor

skincare, rock climbing voucher or some other physical activity they enjoy, an adrenaline rush activity (skydiving, bungee jumping, etc), careof for brain support, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), coffee trials/samplers, sunglasses, blue light glasses, hair care products/supplies, scalp treatments/care, oral health care (thera breath, whitening products, etc), meditation app subscriptions / in person sessions for meditation, or a planner

5 - the hierophant

moss agate (don't question how random that sounds this is some intuitive stuff), artwork, an architectural tour, beauty products/supplies, historically significant objects, pastries or sweets/candies, earrings, sour dough starter kit, jewelry in general, piano/organ lessons, singing lessons, a wallet, or any classes where they can learn something fun and new to them

6 - the lovers

car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), bicycle or bicycle accessories/gear, books (the more educational the better), briefcase / work tote, bus tickets for a day trip, gym membership or soulcycle classes, crystals, a standing desk / cute office supplies (for the work girlies both those who work in office and from home), hand & foot message, manicure voucher, newspaper subscription (i am a fan of new york times, washington post, and the new yorker), language classes or rosetta stone subscription, magazines subscription, merchandise from their favorite singer / group / tv show / movie, train trip, or we're not really strangers card packs

7 - the chariot

gardening supplies, hermit crab, baked goods, bath products / beauty products, boat, cruise, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), truly nice melons boob butter, juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, glassware / blown glass, stuff they need / need for their home (security system, chest freezer, etc), hotel or bed & breakfast stay, kitchenware, lake trip, pearls, real estate / land, restaurant voucher / gift card, silver jewelry, shopping gift cards, a trip, or intention journal

8 - strength

amusement park tickets, supplies for their passion projects, ballroom dancing classes, tea sampler, games (video games or board games), movie theater gift card, personal celebrity cameo, flower garden supplies/seeds, stuff for their pet, or a belt

9 - the hermit

pet related gifts (if they have a pet that is), bookshelves (they probably need one), juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, a cat, clothing, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), stationary, emergency preparedness (ready to eat meals, fire blanket, etc), cook books, dining ware (new plates/bowls, cups / glassware, silverware, etc), food subscriptions (home chef, hello fresh, pickle of the month club, bokksu japanese snack box, etc), careof subscription, gloves, herb garden kit, a one way ticket to anywhere, or a hiking trip

10 - wheel of fortune

incense, cleansing herbs, bow and arrow, sapling, land, dried berries, budget book, gym/exercise membership, religious/spiritual/philosophical books, poker set, cloth (if they like sowing), wool (if they like weaving, crocheting, and/or knitting), wool clothing, a coat, trip to a country or place they have never been, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), etiquette classes/books (this is great for the traveler because they are often interested in learning customs before going on their trip), figs, fruit basket (like edible arrangements), honey sampler / royal jelly, horseback riding lessons, lottery tickets, merchandise from their favorite singer / group/ tv show / movie, shoes, really any game, any subscription they have not tried, things that support their spiritual practices, or book on positive mindset

11 - justice

personal celebrity cameo, tickets to a ballet or to an art gallery, air purifier, portable heating pad, spa voucher, cosmetics, lingerie (if y'all are close), closet organizational items (space saving hangers, linen bins, accessory hanger, etc), pastries and sweets, diamonds (perhaps propose to your lover), a dress, tickets to a fashion show or exhibit, flowers, a luxury chair, jewelry, concert tickets, poetry books, any quartz pieces, chocolates dipped strawberries, hair extensions, logic puzzles, a voucher for an escape room, or a kitchen/baking scale

12 - the hanged man

bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), a book on angel numbers, a book on natural medical remedies, ballet classes or tickets to see a ballet, bath bombs and other bath goodies (salt, bath table, candles, sugar scrub, bath teas, etc), beach vacation, tea or coffee sampler, butterfly farm kit with caterpillars, disposable camera or a camera they would like (polaroid, filming, etc), scientific kits (geode kit, grow your own crystals, etc), cigars (for the dads in your life), unsolved mysteries or crime kit, dance classes, smutty/romance/fantasy books, fairy garden, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, budget book, makeup palettes or other cosmetic they enjoy, concert tickets, paint, poetry books, clue the board game, a pass to an indoor pool, a book on poppet making, meditation membership or a voucher for in-person sessions, or something to support their curiosity for new spiritual insight

13 - death

hermit crab, a jumping spider, a reptile, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, operation the game, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, beginners chemistry kit, a colon cleanse, sea monkeys, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, philosophy of death books, books on magic, magic the gathering the card game, period products (portable heating pad, the diva cup, etc), poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), a frog pond, a scorpion, a snake, a burr/boo basket (these people love seasonal stuff), or marie kondo's life changing magic of tidying up

14 - temperance

a hunting trip, bow and arrows, books on religion or philosophy, book of devotions, book on dream meanings (hello, freud haha), a certification course or college class, horseback riding lessons (for the newbie or a younger sibling or your child/niece/nephew), horse drawn carriage ride (for the couples *smirk*), logic puzzles, things that support their goals, or a book of angel number meanings

15 - the devil

a fan or air conditioning unit, if you have the land for it a cow/horse/goat, kinetic tape, arnicare bruise cream (this is a joke... unless...), coal or a diamond (this is also a joke... unless...), a clock or a watch, cuticle trimmer (and other nail care things), room darkening curtains, a happy lamp, lotion/cream, hat/scarf/gloves, hair products (extensions, shampoo subscription, etc), leather fashion-ware, gardening supplies, ice maker, or a juice cleanse

16 - the tower

tiger balm or other pain relieving ointment, acrobatic/gymnastic classes, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, first-aid kit, baking kits, barbecue sauce sampler, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads), gift card for haircut, dollar shave club (for the dads pt 2), metal works (spoon handle rings, metal roses, etc), boxing lessons, boxing match tickets or monster truck tickets, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), cactus plant, beginners chemistry kit, cookbook, pocket knife or leatherman/multitool, tool kit, jenga, emergency kit, food, first aid kit, merchandise for their favorite superhero(es), electric lighter, liqour or bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), rock music (a vinyl or concert tickets), pepper plant, pipe for smoking (if they like to smoke that is - my grandfather had a collection), lego kit, or lincoln logs

17 - the star

friendship bracelets, a fan / ac unit, model airplane, flight lessons, compression stockings/socks, architectural tour, astrology reading, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), electronic devices (a new phone, amazon fire stick, solar portable charger, etc), movie on blue-ray or dvd, movie gift card, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, shadow work journal, aesthetically pleasing bluetooth retro radio, streaming service subscription, a book on health or mental health, or a book on positivity

18 - the moon

abstract art, bar in a jar (if they are of legal age), a fish, a fish tank, tickets to an aquarium, cocktail book (if they are of legal age), a fishing trip (for the dads), book of conspiracy theories, the conspiracy theory map, a crystal ball, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, a jellyfish, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, poetry book, hydroponic starter system, games that involve bluffing (clue, poker, herd mentality, etc), shoes, sleeping eye mask, silk pillow cases, new bed sheets, bonnet, socks, a computer keyboard, typewriter, a book on shadow work, a puppy, or a book on dream meanings

19 - the sun

maine coon, autobiographical books, ballroom dancing lessons, poker set, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), card games, personal celebrity cameo, circus fruit basket, chocolate gold coins, classes that encourage creativity (create it and break it sessions, pottery classes, etc), jewelry or an engagement ring (if it's been more than 2 years y'all should know what you are doing at this point), flowers, indoor herb garden, tickets to race of some sort (cars, horse, sporting events, etc), sporting equipment, ivy plant, a pottery painting voucher / gift certificate, or something for their passion project / hobby

20 - judgment

a reptile, ant farm, a guide on astral projection, operation the game, the chameleon game, clue game, unsolved case files game, grand theft auto video game, assassins creed video game, dungeons and dragons the game, yahtzee, emergency preparedness kit, magician kit, poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), the divine comedy, puzzles, a rodent of some sort, or lingerie (if y'all are close)

21 - the world

gardening supplies, acoustic guitar, air conditioning or fan, architectural tour, teddy bear, snow globe, boots, calendar or planner, supergoop (sun protectant) products, wooden objects (cutting board, chest, box, etc), carpet, clay (air drying or via kiln), a clock or watch, compression stockings/socks, collectible coins, pain patches or kinetic tape, crystals, budget book, lotions for dry skin, dried fruits, gloves/mittens, hair care products, ice machine or ice making trays, ice cream subscription, pottery classes, rain coat, real estate or land, zen sand garden, sculpture, or snake

22 - the fool

flight lessons, model airplane, a flight to anywhere, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), an astrology reading, bath products, biking gear, movie theatre gift card, clock or watch, club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), mood lighting or strip lights, a train ride, fun magnets, motorcycle accessories/training, microphone (maybe they are filming or recording something), patterns for cross stitch / knitting / crocheting, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, stuff for the tv (surround sound, sound bar, streaming subscription, etc), or classes for one of their interests

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[razorblade180]

A Splendid Day

Furina:*packing groceries* That’s everything. Thank you very much.

Merchant:The pleasure is all mine! You’re one of my best customers.

Furina:The price is still 500 mora for everything?

Merchant:On the house.

Furina:P-Pardon?

Merchant:Your birthday. It’s on the house, and I will accept nothing less!

Furina:But-

Merchant:It may not be a national holiday anymore and you may not be our Archon, but a little free macaroni and beverages is the least I’d like to offer. A birthday is still a birthday.

Furina:…*smiles* Thank you for the gift.

xxxxxx

A little later, the national celebrity walks down the streets of her nation only to be stopped by the sight of a top hat floating down into her hands. She looks up to see Lyney, Lynette, and even Freminet sitting on the railing of bridge covered in the nation’s flowers in a pattern that spelled her name.

Lyney:HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Lynnette:*clapping*

Freminet:T-Ta Da….

Lyney:C’mon you two. A little more energy.

Furina:Hahaha! My, my, this is quite the shock. *red* How long have you been planning this?

Lynette:Your birthday is no secret. We had ample time.

Freminet:The hardest part was keeping them alive long enough to do this.

Lyney:Just our little way of showing our gratitude. We wouldve baked a cake, but I fear our skills our outmatched in that department.

Furina:All cake is good cake if it’s sweet enough. Who is outmatching your-

???:Haaaapppy Birthday!

Furina didn’t get the chance to turn around before Navia swooped her up into a bear hug, spinning her around lovingly while Clorinde and Sigewinne held a small present patiently.

Furina:Never mind Lyney!

Navia:*puts her down.* How’s the birthday girl!?

Furina:Startled, but pleasantly surprised.

Sigewinne:Perfect! Exactly how a birthday should be!

Clorinde:Happy Birthday, Lady Furina.

Furina:Hehe, wow. Everyone take the day off or something? I was expecting a little get together or gift. Honestly I’m a tad embarrassed.

Chiori:*struts in* Since when does the wonderful Furina de Fontaine prefer a “little” get together?

Furina:How long have I been retired from leadership?

Chiori:Pfft, please. In or out of power, you’re still the same person who demanded dozens of retakes for a film in the name of “producing a diamond among diamonds in the craft.”

Furina:And we won! I will never forsake the arts!

Sigewinne:And we will never forsake your wonderful efforts.

Her and Clorinde walked up and presented the box. Furina only had to undo the ribbon to reveal it to be a makeup box containing an array of colors and tools to use.

Sigewinne:I made every color!

Clorinde:I made the box.

Chiori:Now we stop by my store so you can feast on Navia’s pastries in style.

Furina:How many pastries?

Navia:Yes.

Furina:Fantastic.

xxxxxx

More than 500 birthdays, and this might be the first one filled with true joy. Eating cheesecake while wearing a lovely pale blue sundress with dark blue water droplets on the skirt and cuffs that matched the sun hat she was given. Her nails matched perfectly and her lipstick was admittedly a little ruined now because of danishes, but she didn’t care! Furina even smelled like fresh rain thanks to Emilie’s lovely new perfume she made with the help of resource gathering/testing from Chevreuse and Neuvillette.

Charlotte took a photo of the girl’s pure joy as she dined with friends.

Furina:!? Please tell me you didn’t take that mid bite?

Charlotte:Of course I did. You need moments to smile at.

Furina:Myself!?

Wriothesley:*pouring more tea* Gotta admit, I’m a little jealous I didn’t get this brand on my birthday.

Clorinde:You didn’t like the “gift” I gave you?

Wriothesley:Oh I loved it. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Navia:Don’t spoil good food with certain topics you too. This is a sweet gathering. Not saucy.

Furina:You all really outdid yourselves. I don’t know what to say aside from thank you.

Lynette: “You can have the last slice” is a second option.

Freminet:Ummm-

Lynette:It was a joke. I would never rob someone of that honor. The last of any dessert is always the best.

Furina:Would you like to split the-

Lynette:If you insist.

Furina cuts the last danish is half and shares, giggling alongside her friends at Lynette’s perky ears as she ate. The girl was swept in the laughter she hadn’t realized Neuvillette had finally joined them.

Neuvillette:Today seems like a wonderful day to be out.

Furina:Huh? Neuvillette!? You took off too!?

Neuvillette:Is that so strange. Half the day has gone by. I used it do enough work to give the rest of today to properly wish you a wonderful birthday. I’m happy to see others make that possible.

Furina:Yes, it’s really more than I ever hoped her. I’m serious when I say I don’t really know what to say. Frankly I-

Navia:Now don’t go saying “I don’t deserve it.”

Chevreuse:She’s right. Thank you is more than enough. Besides, everyone here would easily agree that you deserve nice things ten fold.

Furina:Sniffles You guys… don’t make me cry today!

Neuvillette:So*reveals jewelry box* this might be a bad time.

Furina:You have another gift for me!?

Neuvillette:I wouldn’t count pointing out a good source of water for your perfume as a my gift. I could do that any day of the week. This however, took quite a bit more time and a trip to the bottom of several bodies water.

Knowing Furina best, Neuvillette wrapped the gift in a way that allowed her to still open it with ruining the design. The young lady choked on her own breath when her eyes saw shining white pearls in the form of a necklace. Neuvillette took the jewelry and put it around her neck while everyone was stunned into silence.

Freminet:Those are- how did you find so many perfect pearls?

Neuvillette:I am no stranger to sea life or waiting.

Navia:And here I thought I gave the best present without a doubt.

Clorinde:It wasn’t a contest.

Lyney, Lynette, Chiori: No it kinda was. We went all out.

Furina:I’m just- these are so expensive looking! And beautiful! I might have to start revising my entire wardrobe to wear these more often.

Neuvillette:Hehe, I don’t mind if you limit their use to a special occasion like today or a grand opening of a play. I simply wanted to give you something only I could manage, like everyone else.

Wriothesley:All I did was supply a big enough kitchen for Navia. Now I’m starting to think I should’ve fought some ancient monster for gems alongside Clorinde.

Chevreuse:Umm, Clorinde? When you said you made the makeup box….

Clorinde:I used only the finest of materials. It just so happened the finest things may involve interacting with less than fine creatures.

Furina:You could buy a box! All of you are so…wonderfully ridiculous. Neuvillette, thank you for this. I love it. Today has truly been splendid. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Charlotte:You’re welcome!

Emilie:Charlotte, what was your gift.

Charlotte:Who do you think made all the invites, planned the timing and picked the location? It’s a little past midday, the space isn’t crowded, and more importantly, Furina still hasn’t eaten a proper birthday cake!

Furina:Ooooo I still get one? Wonderful! Although…I’m admittedly a bit on the fence. *crosses arms* I can’t believe Aether bragged about his baking skills just to go off to Natlan before ever letting me get my own personal cake! Not to mention not a single birthday letter! He’s probably off breaking some law right about now or fighting an ancient evil he stumbled into.

???:That sounds more like you, than me. I’m actually careful.

???:Yeah! How else would be able to carry a packaged cake through the desert!?

Furina froze up, her heart skipping a beat after hearing two familiar voices call behind her. She slowly looked over her shoulder and saw familiar faces that made her ignore any on lookers as her body took off out of her seat without thinking; the girl was full on sprinting towards Aether so quickly that he had no choice but to hand over the three layered cake to Paimon before catching Furina, who jumped right into his arms. Thankfully Clorinde zipped over to help Paimon balance the final dessert, but frankly, everyone doubted Furina cared about the cake as her embrace around Aether grew tighter while he spun her.

Furina couldn’t care less about any pictures getting taken or the giggles from her friends at the moment. She was just happy to be held again, resting her face in the crook of his neck.

Aether:H-Hello. You look lovely. I take it you missed me?

Furina:Yes. Don’t you dare let go until I say so.

Aether:*red* O-Oh. I thought you were going to deny it.

Furina:Later, but for now…

She raised her head to see his dumb smile before giving Aether a heartfelt kiss. Clorinde leaned over awkwardly and pulled down Furina’s sun hat over the two in order to create any semblance of privacy.

Neuvillette:I think she forgot she’s in company.

Sigewinne:Well, I think Aether won.

Navia:If I had to lose, it’s an honor to go out like this.

Chiori:You actually lost to Charlotte. If she planned the spot alongside the timing with the invites…

The reporter held up a photo of birthday girl with a tearful smile getting spun around in the arms of her happiness smiling back at her as the warm light of the afternoon barely broke through around the vast colors of flower petals.

Charlotte:Like I said, you need moments to smile at.