#Dry fruits packing machine

[imperialasociate]

Elevate your dry fruits packaging with our Rotary PFS Dry Fruits Packing Machine. Achieve freshness and efficiency using advanced technology.

[seoagency26]

Dry Fruits Packing Machine: Start Dry Fruits Packaging Business in 2024

Dry Fruits Packing Machine is a special machine specifically designed for effectively and appropriately packaging dry Fruits.

Dry Fruits are those Fruits which have been dried certainly by way of daylight or by way of dehydration which eliminates all the moisture or water content from those end result, after which we get a product full of vitamins.

Nuts and Dry Fruits hold a variety of the value this is located in clean frutis, which if we upload to our meals, can be of high-quality gain to our fitness.

Dry Fruits are in most cases used in cooking dishes and splendor merchandise. manual packaging of dry end result can be time taken, exertions price. Dry fruits Packing machine automates the packaging technique to verify accurate filling, sealing and labelling of tea in pouch or packet packaging.

Read More: Dry Fruits Packing Machine

[dcashew45]

Fully Automatic Cashew Processing Machine: A Game Changer for Your Business

In today’s competitive market, the packaging of products plays a vital role in ensuring their freshness, longevity, and appeal to consumers. The cashew industry, known for its delicious nuts and diverse applications, significantly benefits from advanced packaging technologies, particularly vacuum packing machines. This article will delve into the features, advantages, and various applications of vacuum packing machines, focusing on their crucial role in the cashew processing and packaging industry.

Understanding Vacuum Packing Machines

A vacuum packing machine is designed to remove air from packaging, sealing the product in an airtight environment. This method helps prevent oxidation, microbial growth, and moisture ingress, ultimately extending the shelf life of the packaged goods. In the context of cashew processing, vacuum packing is essential for maintaining the quality and freshness of cashew nuts.

How Vacuum Packing Works

The vacuum packing process involves several key steps:

Preparation: The cashew nuts are first prepared for packing, ensuring they are clean and dry.

Loading: The prepared cashews are placed into a vacuum-sealable bag or container.

Vacuum Sealing: The machine removes air from the bag or container, creating a vacuum environment around the cashews. This process minimizes the presence of oxygen, which is crucial for preserving freshness.

Sealing: After the air has been removed, the machine seals the packaging tightly to prevent air from re-entering.

Cooling: In some machines, the packaging may undergo a cooling process, ensuring that the integrity of the seal is maintained.

The Importance of Vacuum Packing in Cashew Processing

Vacuum packing offers numerous benefits for cashew processors and retailers:

Extended Shelf Life: By removing oxygen, vacuum packing significantly extends the shelf life of cashew nuts, ensuring they remain fresh for a more extended period.

Preservation of Flavor and Nutrients: The airtight seal prevents flavor loss and preserves essential nutrients, making the nuts more appealing to consumers.

Prevention of Spoilage: Vacuum packing inhibits the growth of mold and bacteria, reducing spoilage rates.

Enhanced Packaging Appearance: Vacuum-sealed packages provide a professional look that enhances the product's marketability.

Types of Vacuum Packing Machines

Various types of vacuum packing machines cater to different needs in the cashew processing industry:

Manual Vacuum Packing Machines: These machines require operators to perform certain functions, such as placing bags and sealing them manually. They are typically suitable for small-scale operations.

Semi-Automatic Vacuum Packing Machines: These machines offer a balance between manual and automated processes, allowing for faster packing compared to manual machines.

Automatic Vacuum Packing Machines: Fully automated machines streamline the packing process, requiring minimal human intervention. They are ideal for large-scale operations where efficiency is a priority.

Chamber Vacuum Packing Machines: These machines create a vacuum inside a chamber, accommodating multiple packages at once. They are highly efficient and suitable for bulk packaging.

External Vacuum Sealers: These machines seal vacuum bags using a nozzle and are ideal for smaller operations.

Applications of Vacuum Packing Machines in Cashew Processing

1. Cashew Packing Machine

The cashew packing machine utilizes vacuum sealing technology to package cashews efficiently. This machine is designed specifically for the cashew industry, ensuring that the nuts are packed in a way that preserves their quality and freshness.

2. Nuts Packing Machine

Vacuum packing machines also serve as nuts packing machines, accommodating various nut types. The flexibility of these machines allows processors to switch between different nut varieties without significant adjustments.

3. Dry Fruit Packing Machine

In addition to cashews, vacuum packing machines are effective for packing dry fruits. The technology helps maintain the quality of dry fruits, ensuring that they remain appealing to consumers.

4. Automatic Packing Machine

The automatic packing machine streamlines the entire packaging process, from filling to sealing. These machines are equipped with advanced technology that enhances efficiency and reduces labor costs, making them ideal for large-scale operations.

Benefits of Using Vacuum Packing Machines

1. Improved Efficiency

One of the most significant advantages of using vacuum packing machines is the increased efficiency they bring to the packaging process. Automated machines can handle large volumes of cashew nuts in a fraction of the time it would take to package them manually. This efficiency allows businesses to meet high demand without compromising quality.

2. Cost Savings

While the initial investment in vacuum packing machines may seem high, the long-term cost savings are substantial. Reduced spoilage, longer shelf life, and minimized labor costs contribute to overall savings for businesses.

3. Enhanced Product Quality

Vacuum packing preserves the quality of cashew nuts, ensuring that they maintain their flavor, texture, and nutritional value. Customers are more likely to return for high-quality products, leading to increased sales and customer loyalty.

4. Sustainability

Many vacuum packing machines are designed with sustainability in mind. They utilize materials that are recyclable and help reduce food waste by extending the shelf life of products.

Choosing the Best Vacuum Packing Machine

When selecting the best vacuum packing machine for your cashew processing needs, consider the following factors:

1. Machine Size and Capacity

Choose a machine that meets your production volume requirements. Smaller operations may benefit from manual or semi-automatic machines, while larger facilities may require fully automatic systems.

2. Type of Packaging

Ensure that the machine is compatible with the type of packaging you plan to use, whether it’s vacuum bags or containers.

3. Ease of Use

Look for machines with user-friendly interfaces and easy setup procedures. This ensures that operators can quickly learn to use the machine, minimizing downtime.

4. Maintenance and Support

Consider the maintenance requirements of the machine and whether the supplier offers support and service agreements. Reliable support can save time and costs in the long run.

5. Budget

Evaluate your budget and compare the costs of different machines. Keep in mind that investing in a quality machine can lead to long-term savings.

The Future of Vacuum Packing in the Cashew Industry

As the demand for packaged cashew products continues to rise, the role of vacuum packing machines will become even more critical. Innovations in technology, such as improved sealing methods and enhanced automation, are expected to shape the future of vacuum packing in the cashew industry.

Emerging Trends

Smart Packaging: The integration of smart technology into vacuum packing machines will enable real-time monitoring of packaging conditions, ensuring optimal quality control.

Eco-Friendly Materials: As sustainability becomes increasingly important, manufacturers will likely focus on developing eco-friendly packaging materials compatible with vacuum packing technology.

Increased Automation: The trend toward automation will continue, with advancements in robotics and AI streamlining the packaging process further.

Customization: Businesses will seek more customization options in packaging to cater to specific consumer preferences and market trends.

Conclusion

The vacuum packing machine is an indispensable tool in the cashew processing industry, revolutionizing how cashew nuts are packaged and preserved. By utilizing vacuum sealing technology, businesses can enhance product quality, extend shelf life, and improve overall efficiency.

[highvern]

Dessert First

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: baker! mingyu, wedding planner!YN, fluff, smut, angst, exes to lovers

warnings: hate for the Dodgers, alcohol consumption, smoking, past drug use, lots of mentions of food, mentions of anxiety/poor self esteem, past toxic relationship, a little bit of jealousy from reader, fingering, dry humping/thigh riding, oral sex, unprotected sex, cum eating

Length: ~21k

Note: FINALLY WE ARE HERE for @camandemstudios Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab. check out all the amazing fic (26 in total) on the master list. everyone has worked so hard and im so excited to read them thank u pookie @gyuswhore @miniseokminnies and @starlightkyeom for beta reading and telling me this wasn't trash

summary: You've got a great life. Your wedding planning business is booming, your clients are great, and you're finally over your ex-boyfriend after years of pining. Or you are, until the universe decides to test if those three things are actually true.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Comment to be tagged in the full fic coming February 17th!

It starts with the coffee maker.

By all accounts you could buy a completely new one that actually worked but some sentimental part of you liked the baby blue machine with scratched enamel and an inability to brew a full pot in less than twenty minutes. If your coffee maker worked the way it was supposed to then you wouldn’t have left your apartment ten minutes late. And if you hadn’t left your apartment ten minutes late then you wouldn’t have arrived on the subway platform just as the train doors closed, forcing you to wait another ten minutes for the next train and by then the mist of rain outside devolved into a biblical downpour leaving you soaked to the bone despite a rain jacket and an umbrella. 

At least the binder containing every last detail of your life for the next two months is safe.

Sprinting down the street, your shoes squish through filthy puddles. No point in taking the extra time to dodge them, you’re already twenty minutes behind schedule with a ruined pair of brand new loafers. The only saving grace is Joshua and Sarah’s, your clients, habit of running at least thirty minutes behind. Which is why you told them the meeting started at 10AM and not 10:30. 

So technically you aren’t late. Yet. But you planned a thirty minute buffer to meet with the pastry chef and discuss color scheme, flavors, and logistics before Joshua and Sarah arrived to ensure everything went smoothly. As smooth as it can with clients that believe more is more and have no budget. 

The cafe bustles to the brim with people trying to escape the tsunami outside and enjoy something sweet. Damp businessmen sip cups of coffee while thumbing through damp newspapers, college students cram over notebooks with cookies by their side. A group of moms cluster on the couches, baby toys and lattes strung across the table while they share the latest playground drama. You can see yourself bunkered down at the table by the wide bay window, typing away emails and finalizing calendars with a hot cup of coffee and one of the massive croissants displayed on the counter.

Joshua and Sarah insisted on using Dessert First for their cake. They had their first date here and you can see why they love it so much. The display case sits packed with cakes and pastries; tarts with jewel like fruit, iced treats that make your mouth water. The heavenly scent of almond, vanilla, and coffee clouded the air. Plants hung from the ceiling, a shelf in the far corner stacked with pre-packaged goods to go.

You can almost forget the chill seeping into your veins from the cozy aroma of vanilla and espresso. A perfect oasis in the middle of the overcrowded city.

You’re still ten minutes early according to your watch. Plenty of time to devise a battle strategy with whatever unfortunate baker owns this place. You couldn’t find anything about them online, no pictures or reviews that mentioned them by name; only one article in the city newspaper announcing the grand opening last year which obviously resented a bakery replacing the former pizza shop that was shut down due to a myriad of legal issues. Who knew money laundering was so prevalent?

Even when you called to schedule this meeting you couldn’t get a name, just one of the cashiers promising to put you on the calendar before hanging up without asking for any of your information.

Stepping towards the cash register, a lone employee taps a quiet beat on the counter with his fingers, lost in his own world. Vernon, his name tag reads. You're almost certain this is the same man you spoke to one the phone.

“Hi.” You plaster on your most convincing smile, hoping it distracts from the wet mess of your…everything. “I’m supposed to be meeting with the pastry chef. I’m—”

He cuts you off with a snap. “You’re the wedding planner lady, right?” 

“Yep, that’s me.”

“I’ll let him know you’re here. You want a coffee?”

“A coffee would be great,” you sigh in relief. 

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Nope, just black,” you nod. “Thanks.”

Vernon fills a mug almost to the top before sliding it across the counter and disappearing into the back with a swish of the kitchen doors. While he grabs the mysterious baker, you head towards the table in the window. It’s perfect. You can see the entire cafe and the street, with plenty of space for everyone to gather around. Plus, it’s far away from the A/C blowing steadily on the opposite side of the cafe.

At best, you hope your new colleague will take the stress of this wedding for the premium pay. Sarah and Joshua want a lot but they’re willing to put their money where their mouths are. And unfortunately, they’re nice. Pleasant to the point you can’t fathom telling them no.

There was a point where you felt the butterflies they felt, and you wanted the same dream wedding they wanted. Maybe that’s why you’re willing to do whatever it takes to give them the perfect day they envisioned. That, and the promise of high end clients if everything goes well.

You’re too busy organizing everything to perfection on the table to notice a new presence over your shoulder until he clears his throat. This isn’t how you planned to introduce yourself but you steel against the embarrassment of the morning and turn around. “Hi, I’m—”

Mingyu.

Any hope of this working shatters into a million pieces before your eyes.

Fuck.

The shock buckles your knees, collapsing onto your ass on the hard tile floor. Trying to scramble for balance only brings the stack of papers on the table down with you. 

It isn’t enough to face your ex after years in private, there is no way the universe is this cruel. The only logical reason for any of this is you slipped and fell down the subway station stairs and are currently in a coma in the back of an ambulance. That must be what happened because this level of mercilessness is the type of thing only your subconscious could brew.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks.

Dejectedly, you slump on the floor. Kill me, you pray. But when you open your eyes, Mingyu is kneeling over you, eyebrows furrowed like he’s concerned. 

He offers you a hand. “What are you doing here?” 

You push him off, diving down for your scattered belongings to hide the embarrassment burning your face. So much for the dramatic ‘I won’ encounter you fantasized about post breakup. “I’m meeting the owner. What are you doing here?”

Rising to your feet, you try to keep your chin held high. Neither of you are winning in this situation but you cling to your pride even if it’ll kill you. You know what Mingyu is doing here before he even says it. He’s got an apron covered in flour cinched around his waist and that stupid Dodgers hat from college he apparently still refuses to toss out holding his hair back. It’s longer than the last time you saw him, curling around his ears.

“I’m the owner.”

“Of course, you are,” you laugh bitterly. “Did you know about this?”

“Obviously not,” Mingyu scoffs. “Do you think I was like ‘oh yeah, I’d love to work with my ex-girlfriend on your wedding cake, what a great surprise!’”

He respected your boundary to not see each other after the break up; only communicating through Soonyoung to coordinate moving out of your shared apartment. You hadn’t blocked his number but he didn’t take advantage of it. He didn’t call or text, left your social media alone. Mingyu turned into a ghost at your command. 

No, Mingyu wouldn’t do this to you. The universe just hates you enough to make it happen.

Besides, it’s too late to cancel and even if you wanted to, Sarah and Joshua gushed nonstop about having their dream cake made by none other than your ex-boyfriend. You could do this. You were a professional. You’ve worked with far worse people than Mingyu, and in two months, you would never have to see him again.

Mingyu takes a seat at the table, watching as you do the same. You try not to show how flustered you are while neatly organizing everything again. 

He breaks the silence. “How are we doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I know you? Or are we pretending we’ve never met before? Should we make a quick slideshow about all the reasons we didn’t work out? I’m sure you have one.”

You sour at the comment but only because somewhere on your laptop is a slideshow detailing the epic explosion resulting in your break up, color coded by who won the fight. It was easier than explaining again and again to your friends how someone like you and someone like him just didn’t work. Especially when all they saw was a handsome face and a nice smile.

Lying would only come back to bite you in the ass later but how would it look for a wedding planner to work side by side with her failed long term relationship? At best, your clients wouldn’t care. It really isn’t any of their business why you and Mingyu ended things. The sour ending between you two wouldn’t affect work; you could work with someone you didn’t like. You did it all the time. 

Worst case scenario, they’ll think you’re a complete fraud and incapable of planning the perfect day to celebrate their love since your own romantic life is a burning garbage fire doused in gasoline. They’ll think there is no way you and your ex–boyfriend can work together for the next six weeks to pull this off and they’ll be left in the ruins.

“We’re…friends of friends.” 

“Got it,” he nods. “So friend…how’s business?”

You shrug, focusing on the small line forming at the cash register. “Good. Busy.”

Truly, business was better than ever before. Sarah chose you after her friend’s wedding was praised in the city paper as the event of the season. Thank whatever powers be that Jeonghan agreed to write the feature if you planned his sister’s wedding for free; all the work paid off in spades for the free advertising. You even had enough money to bring Seungkwan on as your part time assistant.

But you don’t need to bog Mingyu down with the details of how busy you were. You want to know how everything around you finally came out of his brain and into existence; right down to the sleek espresso machine and the display case of artfully decorated cakes. You should have recognized all the details he spent hours describing for when he opened his own bakery like he always wanted, checkerboard tiles and all.

“You can ask,” he says.

There is no point in pretending you aren’t curious. He could see right through it.

“When did all this happen?”

“Last year.”

“I didn’t know you quit your job.”

“We weren’t really on speaking terms…” Mingyu shakes his head. “I started working at Annette’s on Second the year before that. Saved up. Now I’m here.”

“Well, if Sarah and Joshua are anything to go by, you’ve got the best cake in the city.”

Mingyu looks away and at first you think it’s because he can’t take the compliment. But that’s unlike him. He loves compliments, even if he gets flustered and pink at the collar. When he looks back, his lip is pinched between his teeth in barely contained laughter.

“Not like that!” you gasp.

“I didn’t say anything!” he argues.

Your eyes roll as you settle back into your chair. It feels too close to normal, like you’re back in those days when Mingyu was some guy you truthfully did only know through a friend of a friend. Before he asked you to a party at his apartment, before you told him you weren’t interested in seeing anyone else; before…everything. 

You can’t go down that road. Discussing business is far safer than whatever this is; if this is anything to be worried about at all. Mingyu was always a flirt and obviously hadn’t changed in the years spent apart. It didn’t mean anything. It wouldn’t mean anything.

“Alright, so before they get here,” you start, flipping through your notes. You have less than ten minutes to convince Mingyu to do this wedding, when you really need six months and good blackmail. “They want a wedding cake for Saturday, individual panna cottas for the rehearsal dinner Friday night, and cookies waiting for everyone at the hotel when they arrive on Thursday… Oh, and sticky buns and coffee cake for breakfast Sunday morning for people to grab as they leave. I think that’s it.” 

“Oh, that’s it?” 

You shrug. “They might change their mind once they get here.”

“Like how?”

“They said they wanted all the stuff they’ve eaten here since they started dating so maybe they’ll remember something else once we get talking.”

“They come in a lot…” Mingyu winces.

As if divine fate, the couple in question barge through the door, perfectly dry in designer coats like they walked off a movie set.

“Sorry we’re late!” Sarah announces.

“Don’t worry about it. We were just chatting.” Mingyu shrugs, rising to shake their hands. “Can I get you both something to drink?”

You swallow the jealousy from catching a glimpse of Sarah’s engagement ring as she and Joshua settle down. Vintage emerald cut diamond big enough to see from the moon but somehow fits her reserved style despite being passed down in Joshua’s family several generations over. You’ve planned a lot of weddings which means you’ve seen a lot of engagement rings; some good, some great. But Sarah’s is the stuff out of a Cartier commercial.

After Mingyu settles everyone with fresh coffee, he pulls his chair back out, spins it around and takes a seat with his arms crossed over the back. 

“All right, let’s talk dates—”

“Six weeks,” Joshua says.

“Six…weeks?” Mingyu blinks several times like he also is beginning to believe this is some horrible coma induced nightmare.

You school your features into the perfect picture of innocence. “Didn’t I mention that?”

He doesn’t buy it for a second. No fucking way, his eyes say.

I’ll kill you slowly and painfully, your own respond.

“We know it’s fast but we don’t wanna wait,” Sarah gushes.

“Right…” Mingyu sucks in a long breath. “Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to squeeze you into the schedule.”

What you hear beneath his appeasing tone is: you owe me big time.

Nonethewiser, Sarah and Joshua perk up like freshly watered daisies. 

The details hammer out quickly. Three hundred guests means hundreds cookies for the welcome party, a hundred individual desserts for the rehearsal dinner, and a massive four tiered cake for the wedding, and several batches of pastries for Sunday. You shove the curated stack of inspiration pictures into his hands, grimacing when his eyes widen. They’re all vintage round cakes with pounds of icing piped on with painstaking details. Rosettes, ruffles, bulbs of white icing with fresh cherries on top; everything but the kitchen sink slapped together. 

But despite the overwhelming demands, the numbers rack up behind his eyes. You’ve been in business long enough to estimate prices of everything from flowers to cake to bartenders to a balloon arch. The cake itself is easily three thousand if not more with how much detail they want. Add on the other desserts and Mingyu must realize he’s sitting on the biggest contract he’s ever seen with the promise of more business if all goes well. Plus, Sarah’s family reputation means every detail of the wedding would be front page news – who attended, how much they spent, and what businesses were lucky enough to serve an heiress. And if it was good enough for an heiress, then brides all over the city wanted the same treatment no matter the cost.

He’d be stupid to turn them down. You’d strangle him if he even considered it; right across the table top separating you two.

“I can definitely do this. What are we thinking for flavors?”

“Chocolate,” Sarah says.

“Lemon!” Joshua adds.

“What about vanilla? Grannie Donna won’t eat anything fancy,” she warns. “Since it’s four tiers, can we do four flavors?”

You focus on the vein in Mingyu’s neck growing more pronounced as they prattle off on a million different tangents; fondant versus icing, fruit filling or mouse, alcohol infused or would that be too much? They are nice enough but it was like herding cats every time you sit down with them. Spare no expense but your sanity. In time, Mingyu will learn that presenting them too many decisions at once is asking for trouble, but for now you revel in watching him fluster through each option in painstaking detail. 

“How about we do a tasting next week?” Mingyu asks, clearly exhausted. The only thing preventing him from tugging at his hair the way he always does when stressed is that hideous baseball hat. “I can do a slice of each cake flavor we have and the fillings you're interested in.”

“That’ll be perfect!” Sarah claps.

Once they agree to a time, Sarah rushes Joshua out the door for brunch with her parents leaving you alone with Mingyu.

“Six weeks?” he asks.

“How do you think I feel?”

“The pay is that good?”

“She has shoes worth more than my life and Josh’s family has a summer home in Antibes.”

“Where the fuck is Antibes?” Mingyu blurts.

“France.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah. So for the next six weeks I’m in charge of getting them whatever they want. Even if that means putting on an apron and making their cake myself.”

Mingyu shudders. “Never threaten me with your cooking.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“Right,” he says. “I forgot omelets and spaghetti are supposed to be crunchy.”

“Anyway…” Your eyes roll. “Think you can handle everything?”

He leans back, arms crossing over his chest. “I haven’t done a wedding before. It’ll be good for business.”

The corner of your lip twitches because you know that look on his face. Mingyu likes a challenge and what you’re asking of him is probably his biggest challenge yet.

“Alright then,” you say, rising from your seat. “I’ll see you next week.”

“How was the meeting?” Seungkwan asks around a mouthful of pad thai.

You pick at your own plate with gusto. Your day had been packed with meetings since this morning’s nightmare, no time for a change of clothes or anything other than the coffee and pastries Mingyu sent you off with. But Seungkwan surprised you with take out and a Ted Lasso marathon after you wrung out.

 “You will never guess who the baker is.”

“Mingyu.”

“How the fuck did you know that?” You whip around to face him, elbow catching on the coffee table. “Ow! Fuck!”

Seungkwan shrugs, unmoved by your pain. “Because I know everything.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to—I don’t know—mention that to me?” you shriek.

“It did. But it was more fun this way.”

“Well I’m glad one of us finds this funny.” You stab a carrot on your plate with more force than needed.

“So how is he?”

“I thought you knew everything?”

“That good, huh?” Seungkwan asks with an eyebrow wiggle. “Did he make a move?”

“Yeah, he actually asked me if I wanted to do him right there on the coffee bar in front of everyone. Obviously, not.”

“Sounds like you wish he did.”

“Ew, no.”

“Oh, please,” he snorts. “As if you’d turn him down.”

“I would.”

“You guys never did the whole break-up sex thing. Just the ‘break up and never speak again’ thing. You are long overdue for it.”

“The point of breaking up is that we don’t see each other anymore.”

“What does that have to do with anything? And now that he’s back in the picture, you don’t feel even the smallest bit of curiosity?”

“No.” 

Lie. Lie, lie, lie, lie, LIE. Of the millions of reasons you broke up with Mingyu, lack of attraction wasn’t one. It wasn’t enough that he was tall and handsome, he was actually a good person who wore generosity like a second skin. In the weeks following your break up you resisted the urge to ask him for any sort of ‘closure.’ And gradually, those feelings and curiosity went away the longer you ignored them. But seeing him today brought those dead feelings back with enough force to leave you breathless.

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m not that easy.”

“It’s not about being easy, it’s about having hot hate sex with your ex boyfriend,” Seungkwan tsks. “Why can’t you be normal like everyone else?”

“Not everyone is having sex with their ex-boyfriends!”

“Not everyone’s ex-boyfriend is Mingyu!”

“Why are you invested in my sex life?”

“Because as your friend and employee, you are way better to work with when you’re getting laid.”

“Yeah well you’re better to work with when you mind your own business.”

“He looked good, didn’t he?”

You throw your arms up in defeat. “Fine, yes. He looked good.”

“And?”

“And ‘hot, hate sex’ doesn’t sound like the worst thing ever.”

“And?”

“What else is there? I’m not gonna do it. I have to work with him for the next two months.”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to see what else you’d admit, skank.”

Mid-suffocating Seungkwan with a throw pillow, your phone lights up with a text. Speak of the devil.

Mingyu: realized i didn’t give them a quote on price

When you told him how good the money was, you thought he’d understand. Sarah came from money so old her family were probably the first cavemen to need a bank account. Joshua had family members married to royalty in other countries. 

“Is that him? What did he say? Is he asking you to come over?” Seungkwan tries to look over your shoulder.

YN: send me the invoice and i’ll take care of it

Mingyu: aye aye captain

You blare at Seungkwan, sinking back into the couch. “No, it’s about work. Because we work together now.”

“I hear office romance is all the rage these days.”

“I hear firing your assistant is too.”

Seungkwan mutters something under his breath but goes back to watching TV, leaving you to think about what he said.

The first time you met Mingyu was three minutes before Holly, your junior year roommate, shared you two would be splitting twin bunk beds for a weekend at her family’s lake house.

You couldn’t complain. A free weekend on the lake? There was no way you’d ever afford something like it with your budget. As the only two single people on the entire trip, it was a blessing you got real beds and not a pull out couch or air mattress in the living room. Besides, Mingyu seemed nice enough and you wouldn’t be spending that much time in the tiny bedroom anyway. It would be perfectly fine.

And then it rained that entire weekend.

Being stuck inside with five couples for four days left you and Mingyu scrambling to find anything to distract from third wheeling. Turns out, he made good company.

“Pool?” Mingyu asked after the seventh round of cards. Seven losses in a row made him desperate for something he could beat you at.

Eager for anything to prevent going back to your room which shared a wall with Holly and Soonyoung, you tossed the cards on the table and followed him.  “Do you know how to play?”

“Do you?” Mingyu turned with two cues in his hand. He passed one to you before grinding the blue chalk on the tip of his.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, racking the balls.

The first game ended in uncontested victory. Mingyu managed to scratch every turn he got, sinking two stripes before the eight balls tipped into a corner pocket and declared you the winner after barely ten minutes.

“How are you this bad at pool?” you asked.

Mingyu sipped his beer indignantly. “Sorry we can’t all be experts.”

“I only pocketed three balls, you lost all on your own. ” You laughed at his eye roll. “Re-rack the balls and I’ll show you.”

Mingyu did as you said, and rounded back where you stood, eager for instruction.

“Okay, now get in position.”

Eying him up and down, you didn’t focus anywhere for too long in fear of getting distracted by…all of it. You had eyes, you could see how handsome he was. Not to mention the last two mornings he woke up early to workout and came back shirtless while you pretend to sleep, watching from the top bunk as he dug through his duffle for a change of clothes. 

“First problem,” you started, moving into his space. “Your hands are a mess. Move your left hand, no. Your other left hand.” You pulled his hand away from the green velvet of the table, splaying his fingers wide under your own. “Use this one to aim. Balance the cue between two fingers, it’ll keep it stable so you don’t scratch against the table.” Then your front plastered to his back but you were too dedicated to correcting him to think much beyond the clumsy way he fumbled the stick. “It helps if you keep your grip tight. Now, focus between the tip of the cue and the ball. Don’t do anything crazy, just aim straight.”

The balls cracked on impact, flying different directions and ricocheting off the border until the orange stripe sinks into the corner. 

Mingyu stared, mouth wide and cheeks rosy. Your own body vibrated where it touched him; something fluttered up your front, where the heat of his back lingered; where you could still feel the way his chest expanded with each breath. 

“See?” you breathed into his ear, pleased at his shiver. “Better already.”

The second game was slightly better than the first. Mingyu improved, pocketing a few more balls. Everytime he looked at you for approval, you forgot how to breathe. You intentionally pocketed the eight ball too soon just to catch your breath.

“I’m gonna grab another beer,” you said, disappearing upstairs. 

When you returned, Mingyu insisted on a third game. Alcohol didn’t help keep either of your shots steady but it did make things hazy around the edges. You touched Mingyu more, finding any excuse to correct his form. He let you before starting to ask for more pointers, watching closely as you pocketed more balls.

Mingyu’s hand covered yours when you descended into puddles of laughter after he sent the cue ball flying across the room. Then you were kissing; pinned between his mouth and pool table.

That night, you didn’t hear anything from Holly and Soonyoung’s room. All you heard was the sound of Mingyu between your thighs and then, later, the steady beat of his heart as you fell asleep against his chest.

The tasting appointment comes fast. In the past week you’ve exchanged a few more messages with Mingyu, all strictly professional which serves to soften the lead in your stomach. You can do this. You can work with him and not have it be weird. In five weeks everything will be done and you can go back to sweet ignorant bliss, ignoring his entire existence.

You just have to survive.

Another stormy day leaves the subway running late and traffic bumper to bumper. At least this time, you’re dry when you arrive ten minutes early for the tasting.

Vernon wipes down the counters, the display case empty for the night and most of the chairs turned over on top of tables. 

“Is Mingyu—”

“I’ll get him from the back,” Vernon says, disappearing through the kitchen doors with a swish.

Without the bustle of people, the cafe feels much larger. However, it maintains a cozy warmth even when there are no kids leaving sugar cookie crumbs on the floor, or old men tapping their fingers on the table while reading the news. 

Years ago, when you were still dating, he described this exact cafe in detail. Somewhere that felt casual enough for afternoon coffee but fancy enough to bring a date. You helped him put together inspiration boards; paint swatches, furniture ideas, sketched out logos. You should have recognized all of it the first time you visited: the bookshelves stuffed with board games and plants, tables with local ceramics for sale, down to the beaten up couches sandwiching a coffee table with a wooden chess board on top. Exactly what Mingyu wanted. 

You’re happy for him. 

Your phone vibrates, lighting up with a text from Sarah.

Fuck.

Mingyu comes out from the kitchen as you’re typing out a response, same Dodgers hat and flour covered apron as last week. 

“I have everything ready, when are they supposed to get here?” he asks.

“They’re stuck on the bridge and traffic hasn’t moved in thirty minutes.”

It’s already later than you’d like. By the time they arrive, taste everything, and settle down on their order, it’ll be well past the last train to your apartment and all you want after a day running around the city is to go home and curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and bad reality TV. You release a slow breath, a dull throb resonating in your temple. 

Mingyu sighs as well before responding, “Well, if you wanna hangout out here, be my guest. I’m gonna work on some orders in the back until they get here.”

Like always, your unread emails near the triple digits even after only a few hours away from your phone. You set up at one of the chairs lining the counter, laptop hot to the touch and sounding ready for take off. Couples in full meltdowns, vendors needing finalized contracts, venues looking to do walkthroughs and be added to your roster of recommendations. You get the most pressing ones done; a couple deciding they wanted to change their theme from regency garden party to rustic botanical (they’re still a year out, thank god), an overdue invoice from Jihoon for express order of white Dahlias (you sent the filled invoice dated from last week back), a hotel trying to split the block of hotel rooms you already arranged for a wedding next month (absolutely not).

For every fire you put out, three more crop up in its place.

It’s fine. You handle it the way you handle everything, fueled by exhaustion and waning patience. Washing down the last sip of coffee Vernon provided before leaving, you tiptoe around the counter to fill up the mug to the top before setting back to work. You can hear Mingyu humming to himself through the kitchen doors.

A wave of nostalgia washes over you. Years ago, back when you first started and had all of two couples willing to take the risk of hiring someone completely new to the industry, you’d park yourself at the thrifted dining room table in your shared apartment. He’d make dinner, humming away while you worked furiously on your laptop. Polishing your business plan, researching licenses and permits, emailing florists and photographers and anyone else you could network with. Crying from the stress after the hundredth ‘no.’

When it got too much for him to bear, Mingyu would force your laptop out of the way, tuck it away somewhere you couldn’t reach with the promise you could have it back after you ate something that wasn’t popcorn or coffee. The nights he failed to distract you, he’d stand behind your chair, massaging your tense shoulders until your eyes drooped and let him pull you into bed.

But now, Mingyu hides in the kitchen because he is avoiding you. You’re hunkered down at the bar with cold coffee and a dying laptop because you’re avoiding him. It’s hard not to imagine all the what if’s but you focus on work because work is safe; where you can channel all the restless energy and pretend you aren’t thinking about what Seungkwan said.

Then, because life is never kind, the power goes out.

And it stays out.

“Damn it,” you hear Mingyu curse.

Using your phone as a flashlight, you meet him at the kitchen doors.

“Powers out,” he says, wincing at the harsh light of your phone.

“That's what it is?” you gasp mockingly. “I thought you were politely telling me to leave.”

“Smartass,” he huffs. “Can you call the utility company? My phone’s dead.”

“Sure.”

Mingyu leads you back through the kitchen, towards the office. The scent of sugar and vanilla is more concentrated back here, clinging inside your nose. You take stock of everything: steel work benches, one with a half decorated cake frozen in time. Metal shelves filled with proofing dough, others jammed full of freshly baked loaves for tomorrow. The far wall is nothing but industrial sized ovens. Luckily, they’re all empty. 

You try not to stare for too long but you hate mystery and the doors separating the kitchen from the rest of the cafe have kept you from knowing anything about this space. Maybe that was for the best because your imagination takes over. You see Mingyu kneading dough on one table, sleeves rolled up. Meticulously piping icing flowers onto the half finished cake. Whipping up macaroon batter in the gigantic mixer. All the things he did in the tiny kitchen at your old apartment, now with the space he needs to bring his recipes to life.

He ushers you into the closet turned office. On looks alone, you know your arms could touch the side walls without fully extending. Mingyu takes up seventy percent of the space on his own. You don’t think about it.

“I know I have the number somewhere,” he says, digging through a stack of papers. 

You aim the flashlight a little higher to help him see.

Mistake.

There is nothing overtly sexual about one person’s elbow grazing someone’s shoulder. Not unless you're a Regency era gentlewoman and a flash of ankle sends men into a fit of passion. However, Seungkwan’s words about Mingyu still ring in your ears no matter how much you try to drown them out.

You’re close enough for the scent of his cologne to fill your senses, soak in the heat of his skin through his shirt where your elbow brushes against him as he flips through papers. If he notices the way your breath stutters, he fails to mention it. 

Your face heats. How embarrassing is it that the first time you're alone with him since the breakup, all you can think about is if Seungkwan was right and if Mingyu would be any good at it. By history alone, you know he is which opens a whole other can of worms because it’s been months since you had the time or energy for anything beyond a drunk bar makeout with a stranger. Of all the issues in your relationship with Mingyu, lack of chemistry in the bedroom was never an issue.

“Got it!”

You snap to attention. After handing you the business card, Mingyu grabbed a flashlight from the desk drawer and left to check the generator.

Before you dial the number, you ground with a few breaths. It’s just Mingyu. He is just Mingyu. Mingyu who you broke up with and don’t regret leaving. The same man who clearly was no longer thinking about you in any way other than a temporary thorn in his side. 

The office doesn’t have any service so you wander back into the kitchen. Mingyu is off somewhere but you can’t hear him as you dial the electric company. You aren’t scared of the dark and definitely not storms but being all alone out front raises hairs on the back of your neck. Maybe your heart is overcompensating for being alone in Mingyu’s presence and is channeling that energy into something less embarrassing, like the Boogey Man. 

The line is still ringing when the lights come back on, flickering at first like some cheap horror movie gimmick, but they stay on. 

You leave a message for their automated voicemail complaining about the issue and hang up as Mingyu comes back into the kitchen from a door in the back.

“Fixed it?” you ask.

“No, I didn’t even get the door unlocked.”

“Well, hopefully it’s fixed.”

“Did Josh and Sarah say anything about when they’d get here?”

You glance at your phone, sending a quick text to Sarah that she responds to immediately.

Sarah: traffic still backed up :( probably another hour

Sliding your hand down your face, you release a long breath. There is no rescheduling. This has to be done tonight or the already tight deadline will become impossible for Mingyu to meet. 

“I’m going back out front.”

“The Wi-Fi won’t come back for a while,” Mingyu warns.

“Then I will bash my head into the counter until I die or they get here. Whatever comes first.”

“I don’t have that kind of insurance,” he jokes. “I could use a hand, if you’re up for it.”

Your brain doesn’t go straight to the gutter but only because you refuse to allow it. Professional. You are a professional. And professionals do not sleep with their colleagues even if the colleague in question is their ex-boyfriend who historically proved to be great to sleep with.

“What happened to ‘don’t threaten me with your cooking’?” 

“The fact you think this is cooking proves that point. Just crack all the eggs into the bowl.” He shoves a massive flat of eggs and a large steel bowl across the counter before focusing back on the half decorated cake.

The kitchen falls into comfortable silence. The crack of shells against the counter, the sound of your breaths evening out simultaneously. You lose yourself in the task; crack, open, toss, repeat. Easy. Halfway through the tray you feel Mingyu’s gaze.

“What?” you ask, not looking up.

“People tend to prefer their cakes without shells.”

A few pale shell fragments float in the bowl. There aren't that many, he’s just picky.

“I was going to get them all after,” you huff.

His responding snort sets you off. To your own surprise, the empty egg in your hands smashes into the center of his apron covered chest.

He freezes, eyes flashing to yours. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did,” you nod, an evil grin twisting your face.

When you stoop low, Mingyu races to meet you. He dips his hand into the bowl of sifted flour resting on the bench,  and flicks it onto your cheek, into your hair. 

“You’re gonna pay for that,” you warn, taking a step closer as he takes one back. 

You slap a handful of icing on his neck, the pale pink color contrasting with the warm hue of his skin. 

“I’m going to kill you!”

“I’m shaking in boots,” you squeal, putting the metal table between you.

Flour, eggs, and buttercream litter the floor, making it too slick for an easy escape. Mingyu manages to snag your wrist before you can round the opposite side of the metal workbench. He’s got you pinned, trapped between a fingers covered in icing and the hard ledge. 

“Any last words?” he asks. His warm breath puffs over your face, face barely a hands distance from yours.

You don’t think as you roll up on your toes, exactly like the first time you kissed him. Your lips meet his, soft and warm; exactly how you remember them yet somehow better. It lasts barely a second before he withdraws, hovering a hair's breadth away. He’s going to brush you off, step away. Put a stop to whatever this is before it gets out of hand.

Mingyu kisses you again.

The hat holding his hair back falls to the floor, your hands burying in his hair to drag him closer. Muscle memory prevents any awkwardness. When Mingyu tilts his head, you go the opposite way. When you tug at his hair, a grunt tickles across your lips a second before his tongue does. His hands slot on your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest.

Your own roam over his shoulders, down his front until your body gets in the way – wedged so tight against his body you can feel his heart beating against yours. Mingyu lifts you onto the edge of the metal table, standing between your spread legs like so many times before.

You can’t think, you can’t breathe. Nerves dull from too much Mingyu too fast, but you don’t want him to stop. The taste of vanilla and sugar on his tongue is addictive and you whine when he leans back to leave a hot trail over the side of your throat.

Every part of you responds like no time has passed; nipples tight, hips curling against the zipper of his pants when Mingyu feels bold enough to ghost his teeth across your earlobe. You should have done this sooner. So much sooner.

Your hands are all over him like magnets, his the same. Too much to touch and still not enough. Mingyu leverages his weight until your back meets the counter top, completely at his whim. His stupid apron prevents every attempt to get his shirt off or sneak your hand into his pants but that doesn’t stop you. Mingyu’s back is just as nice to touch as his front, you grip his ass and roll your hips.

“Fuck,” he grunts when you do it a second time, rolling with more force into the friction.

A response bubbles in the back of your throat when someone out front calls “Hello?” 

Mingyu abandons the patch of skin revealed by the stretched neckline of your sweater, eyes meeting yours as you both realize for the first time exactly what was happening. All the reasons why this is a horrible idea sprint into your head.

One: he is your ex-boyfriend.

Two: Joshua and Sarah are less than twenty feet away.

You scramble from between him and the table, rushing to exit the kitchen, desperate for as much distance as possible from the disappointment you caught in his gaze. “Coming!”

Flour clings to the cuff of your sweater, and there is definitely frosting and egg shells in other places. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Joshua says.

“It’s fine!” you squeak. Your lips feel swollen and tingly, the heat of Mingyu’s hands lingering on your back, your cheeks burning hotter. You pray neither of them notice the clear signs they interrupted whatever you were doing with him in the back. 

Mingyu sweeps through the door, pinker than you left him, hair a mess. “Who is ready for some cake?” 

“I think I wanna do wedding planning,” you shared over a mouth of pasta.

“Wedding planning?” Mingyu asked. He manned the stove partially nude, only a pair of boxers saving his modesty, messy hair hidden by a backwards baseball hat – like a regular frat boy. He insisted on a midnight snack after a joint and a blowjob on the couch during the newest episode of Prehistoric Planet.

“Yeah,” you said. “Wedding planning. Planning weddings. Dealing with bridezillas and their crazy in-laws.”

Mingyu turned towards where you sit on the countertop with an amused smile, eyes bloodshot. “Okay. What can I do to help?”

“Do you know anyone getting married?”

“We know the same people,” he laughed.

“You’re not helping!” you whined.

Mingyu returned back to the pan, stirring with measured precision, shoulders tense. 

Gotcha, you thought.

Mingyu couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. Especially from you. Not for long. He had one, you just needed to apply the right pressure.

You pulled him away from his cooking, ushering him to stand between your legs. You weren’t playing fair, in his shirt and nothing else, gazing at him with soft features he was already enamored with. “You don’t know anyone thinking about getting married?”

Like an overstuffed pillow, his lips bursted open with a rush. “Soonyoung is planning to ask Holly.”

A wicked grin splits your face. “Really?” 

“But they’re eloping.” Mingyu collapsed into your shoulder, nose tracing the curve of your throat. 

“Well, I can still help them!” you said. “When is he asking?”

You ignored his hand sneaking up your thigh but it’s not necessary. He only wanted to hold you close, cuddly and touch starved from a little too much weed. He sighed, squeezing you tight against him.

“Next week, when we’re all back at the lake house.”

You shuddered at the idea of sharing the wall between the bunk bed room and the master suite while they celebrated. Even after six years of dealing with their volume, it never got any easier. But this was the chance you needed. Something small, something with two people as easy to please as Soonyoung and Holly. 

“Do you think I’ll be good at it?” you asked, suddenly self conscious. 

“I think you can do anything you put your mind to,” he whispered against your hairline.

Clipboard. Check. Phone charger. Check. Wallet. Check.

You methodically pack your bag for today’s appointment at the venue. You’ve never seen it in person but if the reviews and photos are even half true then it would be perfect, exactly what Sarah and Joshua envisioned. By some gigantic miracle, the Ellery Estate had a cancellation aligned with their desired date which has come simultaneously fast and slow. One more week, ten days to be specific, and this entire thing would be a done deal.

In the meantime, you just have to survive.

On the brightside, Mingyu was radio silent over the past four weeks, only responding when you reached out to him to confirm attendance for today. He insisted on delivering everything for the weekend himself and needed to know exactly how the kitchen was set up. Somehow, it became Sarah and Joshua offering to pay for his accommodations to stay through the event in case there was some cake related emergency. Joy.

The silver lining is he seemed to be as intent on ignoring the kiss as you were. He didn’t make any smart comments, or throw it in your face. After the cake tasting last month he all but sprinted into the back of the kitchen after everything was settled. It shouldn’t make you as annoyed as you felt, which made you even more annoyed. You shouldn’t have kissed him and he shouldn’t have kissed you back. 

Your phone rings, a familiar tune playing instead of the default chime. Only one person has that ringtone. Because you never bothered to change it, because you didn’t remember it even needed changing until now because the last time you heard it was years ago.

“What?” you snap after answering, continuing to back your bag with shaky hands.

Mingyu’s scoff crackles through the speaker. “Hello to you, too.”

“Hi. What?”

Mingyu sighs deeply over the line. “My car broke down.”

“Your what did what?”

“My car broke down. Well, someone actually totaled it –  but the point is, I don’t have a car.”

“The run through is this afternoon,” you say, voice shrilling with panic.

“So nice of you to be concerned. I’m fine by the way. And yeah, I know.”

Everyone had to be at the walk through, they had to. The caterer, the photographer, Seungkwan, you, Josh and Sarah, and Mingyu. There is no make-up day for Mingyu to go alone, the venue was booked solid up until the ceremony. Today is it.

The vein in your temple starts to throb. “You can ride with me.”

“Are you sure? That’s a long drive…”

“It’s fine. I need this to go well and if that means towing your ass everywhere then that’s what I’ll do.”

“How considerate,” Mingyu huffs.

“I’ll be at your apartment at noon. Do not make us late.”

“I’m not that bad anymore!” he argues.

“Alright, see you in an hour.” You hang up before he can say anything else.

You spend the next thirty minutes sprawled on the sliver of floor space between the couch and coffee table. This was fine. It was perfectly, absolutely, totally, one hundred percent fine. Better the rip off the bandaid of awkward discomfort sooner than later. You kissed Mingyu and now that it happened, it was firmly out of your system. You definitely don’t think about how if your mind slips from the tight leash of control, you can still feel everywhere his body pressed against weeks ago.

But as the last few weeks showed, no amount of ignoring the memories helped. When you literally took matters into your own hands, the short lived bliss of an orgasm fizzled into hollowness. Nothing relieved that consuming need. At your wits end, you downloaded Tinder with the sole purpose of finding someone who was not Mingyu to help but deleted it because deep down you knew it wouldn’t work either.

It hadn’t worked yet but, if you could firmly cement Mingyu as someone you worked with and not someone you knew every intimate detail about, then maybe the desire to kiss him again would go away.

Hopefully.

When you pull up outside the bakery twenty minutes later, Mingyu is waiting with his arms crossed over his chest and his foot tapping impatiently. Apparently, he lives in the apartment above the bakery. At least, that’s what he said. Maybe he’s lying to you because he doesn’t want you to know where he lives in case he screws up and you plot to kill him in his sleep. 

“You are not wearing that,” you say.

“What’s wrong with this?” Mingyu looks down at his outfit: t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. And like always, that ugly Dodgers hat. 

“They’re paying half a million for this venue. Put on some damn slacks,” you snap. “And brush your hair!”

“Who pissed in your cereal?” he grumbles but goes back inside. Ten minutes later, Mingyu walks out in slacks and a navy button up, hair tousled. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

He mutters something else under his breath before buckling his seatbelt. Then you’re off.

The drive isn’t horrible. You’ve got a playlist that Mingyu is content with and he brought coffee along with a few pastries to snack on. You don’t linger on the fact he still remembers your order – iced latte with cinnamon. It doesn’t mean anything. He just has a good memory and was probably trying to smooth over the tension. 

Three hours later and a slightly numb but later, a large iron gate rolls into view, manned by multiple security guards. They check your IDs against their list of guests for the day before waving you through.

“Where the hell are we?” Mingyu asks. “Buckingham Palace?”

The venue is a modest mansion on 8,000 acres of lush land, hidden away in between rolling mountains and dense forest. Surrounding the pristine white building is a massive yard, mowed with a perfect checkerboard pattern. You creep down the pebbled driveway towards the front of the house where a man waits on the steps, impatiently checking his watch.

Mr. Ellery.

Even though you only spoke to him on the phone and exchanged emails, you know it’s him by his dry gaze and silent imposition, the fine cut of his suit screaming money. He resembles the butler from Haunted Mansion a little too much for comfort. Brown eyes – perfect to see straight through you – and thick white hair cropped close to his skull. 

Several other cars line the driveway. Sarah’s BMW, Seungkwan’s Volkswagen. The others you don’t recognize as you pull in next to them. You put the car in park, turning to Mingyu who looks a little paler than usual. 

“Please don’t say anything stupid.”

“When have I ever—”

“I’m serious.”

Mingyu mimes zipping his lips before getting out of the car. You take a deep breath, lungs stretched until they burn, releasing it slowly before opening the door.

“Mr. Ellery,” you greet, shaking his hand. You hope yours aren’t clammy with nerves. Either way, the slight annoyance on the older man’s face makes you feel like you could cure cancer and still be an inconvenience. “And this is our baker, Mingyu, he’ll be—”

“Everyone else has already arrived,” Mr. Ellery says dryly. “This way.”

You studied the venue website extensively before booking but nothing could have prepared you for seeing it in person. The massive exterior of the house does a poor job of betraying how spacious the inside is. Each click of Mr. Ellery’s expensive leather loafers on the marble floor echoes loudly, the high ceilings make the room feel infinite and you’re nothing more than a speck of dust floating through, about to be swatted by a maid. 

Sarah and Joshua are sipping champagne and nibbling cookies in the Rose Room, chatting with Jeonghan about the article for their wedding. Seungkwan is in the corner entertaining the caterer and photographer. You’re not late but somehow the shocked expression from everyone as you and Mingyu arrive makes you feel like you’re back in elementary school.

“Now that the entire party has arrived,” Mr. Ellery drawls. “We can begin our tour.”

A young woman named Tabitha leads Seungkwan, Mingyu, and the Dokyeom away to tour the kitchens and access points they’ll need while you, the happy couple, Jeonghan, and the photographer, Wonwoo, follow Mr. Ellery back into the main foyer.

“As mentioned on our website, my staff will handle all decoration set up and tear down. I have many priceless family heirlooms throughout the estate and wish to keep them in pristine condition,” Mr. Ellery says.

The air around him is stiff with seriousness. Ironic for a man named Shannon but you focus on nailing down details for the ceremony next week.

“Of course,” you nod. Your clipboard covered in notes is slowly checked off as each obstacle is addressed. Live band? Check. Dance floor installation? Check. Bridal suite, groom’s room, wedding party accommodations. It all flows smoothly.

Three hours later, you’re standing outside in the center of the Ivory Garden, one of the seven formal gardens. White tulips and daffodils explode out of the ground. Shrubs covered in pale quince petals offer a natural division on the sides, puff balls of viburnum exploding from emerald bushes. 

Wonwoo directs the couple around the space for some candid shots while you and Jeonghan watch from afar. Shannon was called away to handle an issue with the estate’s swans, leaving all you to kill time until he returns.

“I think he keeps bodies in the basement,” Jeonghan whispers.

“I think you should focus on interviewing Josh and Sarah.”

“When Joshua Hong, heir of the Hong Diamond’s empire met Sarah Ko, he knew he had a rare gem on his hands,” Jeonghan says into his phone microphone.

“You are so painfully cliche.”

He presses the record button again. “Their wedding was planned by the ultimate stick in the mud, Y/N. Her hobbies include drowning kittens and drinking tears.”

Before you can respond, or push him into the nearest bush like you itch to, Sarah comes running up. “Isn’t it just perfect?”

“Absolutely,” you nod.

“It’s going to be like a fairytale,” she sighs, face glowing. “Do you think delphinium would work better in the aisle floral arrangements than snapdragons? With all the space I think we’re going to need more height. Jihoon can do that, right?”

“That sounds like a great idea. Let me text him.” You smile but beneath the lift of your mouth, every muscle in your body pulls taunt. Jihoon already associated Sarah and Joshua with his own personal version of Hell. Changing the flowers a week out is going to put you on his hit list, if he doesn’t hunt you down immediately. 

You fumble with your phone, shooting off the request and bracing for his reaction.

Y/N: don’t hate me

Jihoon: if it’s the Hong wedding, i will kill myself in front of them and then haunt you

Great.

“My apologies,” Mr. Ellery says upon his return. “Where were we? Oh, yes. As we discussed, the champagne toast will take place in the courtyard…”

He shepherds your group back towards the manor. You follow behind, furiously typing on your phone.

Y/N: please tell me things are going well even if its a lie

Seungkwan: things are great! (not lying)

Seungkwan: DK says kitchen is perfect. He and mingyu worked out storage and timing

Your shoulders relax a fraction. At least something seemed to be fine. You’d take your wins wherever they came from. Even if it was just Mingyu and Dokyeom working out who got what shelf in the fridge.

Catching up to the group, Ellery stops in front of the large fountain serving as the courtyard’s centerpiece. “I believe that concludes our tour. Please join me inside for some refreshments before taking your leave.”

Dark clouds swirl overhead, only just hesitating to release all the water they’ve swelled with over the course of the afternoon. As much as you wished to stay and brow beat the old man until your face turned blue, three hours in the pouring rain back to the city wasn’t worth what could be solved over email.

Seungkwan, Dokyeom, and Mingyu stand around, chatting with Tabitha in the main foyer, much laxer than you expected. At least your assistant wasn’t lying to your face. If things went poorly, you don’t Dokyeom and Mingyu would be acting like long lost friends. 

You snag a glass of water from the table, emptying it before heading in Mingyu’s direction.

“How’d it go?”

“Good,” you tell him. “It’s a long drive back so we should head out.”

“I can drive,” Mingyu offers.

“I don’t think so.”

“You have work to do. I don’t. Just let me drive.” 

There's more to it than that and you know it. Hiding your anxiety from clients was one thing. They didn’t know what cracks to look for, what obvious tells were. But Mingyu did. He always had a way of reading you like the back of his own hand.

Even if he’s doing it to be nice, Mingyu gives you a solid excuse to pretend like everything is fine. You really can’t afford to lose three hours to driving when you have an angry florist to talk down from the ledge, hotel reservations to finalize, and a serious lack of sleep. Jihoon would take at least an hour to convince not to disappear into the woods forever.

“Fine.”

You ignore Seungkwan’s pointed look at Mingyu takes your keys and you open the passenger side door.

The drive home is much the same way as the drive out, quiet but the tension from before seems to have melted. Mingyu hums along with the radio, fingers tapping a steady rhythm into the steering wheel. You send off emails and texts, Jihoon finally calming enough to bargain for a steep upcharge you don’t even try to haggle over. Seungkwan asks about Mingyu every other text and you manage to ignore them in favor of tasking him with picking up Sarah’s aunt from the airport Thursday night.

Rain pelts the windshield, new mist immediately blurring the road barely a second after the windshield wipers clear it. 

Incoming Call…Jeonghan Yoon

A frown crosses your lips as you answer. “Hello?”

“Listen, I need some more info for the announcement but Sarah and Josh are all booked this week. Can I pick your brain?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well don’t sound too eager. I’d hate to think you’re excited to hang out with me.”

Your lips quirk, a puff of amused breath. Leave it to Jeonghan. “Dinner. Tuesday, 8 PM at Plazzo’s.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Bye.” 

You end the call and return back to Ellery’s email detailing that the parking for the wedding would have to be valet only and the shuttle services would require an extra fee. 

“Date?” Mingyu asks.

You prickle. “No.”

“It’s fine if it is. I don’t—”

“It’s none of your business!” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “But if you must know, it was Jeonghan who I’m not sleeping with and never have. Is that really what you think of me?”

“Sorry,” Mingyu concedes. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

The car is quiet after that. Not even the dull hum of the radio can mask the tension. Embarrassment already burns your face. Mingyu was just trying to make things feel normal.

“It’s not a date.”

“Okay, it’s not a date.”

“And even if it was, I wouldn’t talk about it with you.”

“Why not?” You level him with an expectant look. “Okay, fine. But for the record, it’s not like I don’t expect you to be dating. It’s been a long time.”

“For the record, I barely have the time to sleep, let alone date.”

“At least we still have that in common,” he jest. “If you need any advice on getting back out there—”

“No offense, but you are the last person I’d take dating advice from,” you snort, before realizing what you said. “Sorry that was mean.”

What was a warm space, froze back over. You watch Mingyu from the corner of your eye, the signs of his frustration clear as day; his jaw set tight, tongue pinned between his teeth. The rain falls steadier now, fat drops challenging the wipers to keep up. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. “No, you’re right. I haven’t been on a date in…years.”

The math circles your brain but you refuse to acknowledge the implications of his confession. 

“Why not?”

“Time. I’m in the bakery for like fifteen hours a day and I never—”

Just then, the car shudders violently. The force overrides Mingyu’s control of the wheel, swerving into the other lane before he regains control to slow down and pull up onto the side of the road. 

“What the hell?”

The car feels off balance, Mingyu’s side slouching closer to the ground. Fuck.

Your eyes close, head meeting the dashboard in preemptive defeat. “Please tell me it’s not what I think it is.”

“It’s exactly what you think it is.”

A long sigh leaves your nose. “Great.”

Mingyu mutters a curse before throwing open the door and disappearing outside. It’s so dark his silhouette is barely decipherable through the rain. All you can do is watch as he examines the tire in the dark.

A few minutes later, he ducks back into the driver's seat, significantly wetter than when he left. “The tire is flat. Should be an easy fix. Where is your spare?”

You hesitate. “That might be the spare.”

“I—” he starts. You prepare for a lecture about why driving on the spare is bad, how dumb you are not to get it replaced but Mingyu stops himself. “Do you have the number for a tow truck?”

“Yeah, let me just…no service. There was an exit a few miles back. Maybe we can walk there?”

“In this weather?” Mingyu asks.

“I don’t see you coming up with any ideas,” you reply.

“We wait until morning, when it’s not pitch black and raining, and then walk.”

“Fine.”

It's only a little past ten. No service means no distraction to fill the time with. Mingyu’s perpetually uncharged phone is already dead, and he doesn’t want to waste the car battery on charging it. So you both crowd together to watch the one show you have downloaded on your phone: Prehistoric Planet.

There’s nothing sexual or romantic about it other than the memories of giving Mingyu hickies on the lumpy couch of your shared apartment. The backing track to high makeouts that always led to more. This might be the first time you’ve actually tried to pay attention to what the mosasaur is doing.

Half way through the episode is too late to bail. Unless you want to admit to what exactly is going through your head, what he is clearly remembering; the massive elephant in the car. Next to you, Mingyu tries to act like he isn’t remembering the same details which only makes it all the more awkward. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t look at you. 

Forty minutes later, the credits roll. The car is dark. Mingyu’s breath comes out measured, yours too. 

You don’t know how it happens but Mingyu is folded at the waist over the center console, your hands on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. Unlike last time, he doesn’t hesitate. He tugs at you with equal enthusiasm, a hum of content tickling against your lips as you comb a hand through his hair.

He gets you into the back seat with some maneuvering, legs and arms at awkward angles but you're so caught in his orbit you don’t care. All you want is him and the more you have, the more you want.

Planted in his lap, you tug at his damp shirt. Tilting your head back, Mingyu nips along your throat until the collar of your shirt stops him. But not for long. You have it off and lost to the floor, while he folds the cups out of the way before sucking a nipple into the heat of his mouth. Distracted by the pinch of his teeth, you don’t feel his hand snake between your legs until the pads of his fingers prod against your panties.

“Mingyu,” you moan.

“God, you’re so wet.”

It’s only half the sentence you expect to hear. In the past he’d add “for me” but he doesn’t now. You don’t dwell on it. This is a bad idea. A horrible idea. No one is scheduled to interrupt, to remind you there is a world outside of the one between you and Mingyu’ that consequences for this lapse in judgement verge on fatal.

“We should—hmm—talk about this,” you whimper.

“Do you want me to stop?” Mingyu pants against your neck, fingers tucked inside your panties, teasing with a shallow dip up to his knuckle.

“No,” you object, dragging him back into another kiss. “Don’t stop.”

It’s only you and Mingyu. No one has to know, and in a week you’d never have to see him again.

You flatten your chest into his, teeth hard against his lower lip as you rut desperately across the firmness of his crotch. You want him in your mouth, inside you. You’re too needy to make either of you wait very long.

He’s hard enough for your hand to cup around as you twist into a familiar position, knelt on the car seat between Mingyu’s spread thighs. Years ago, back in college when you both had roommates, Mingyu’s car on the side of an abandoned road was a frequent spot for hickies and blowjobs. 

You don’t give yourself time to think as you peel his boxers down his thighs, honing in on his length immediately. Pretty isn’t a word you ever used to describe dicks until the first time you saw his. Mingyu huffs, chopped and ragged, as your tongue wets his cock with heavy licks; savoring the taste of him.

“Oh my god,” Mingyu groans at the roof, throat on display. 

His thighs jump under your nails as you suck the tip softly, a light tease he used to despise. All of his turn ons are at the front of your brain: gag a little too loud, squeeze on the upstroke, act like you want nothing more than the taste of him on your tongue.

A hand rest heavy on the back of your neck, nudging you down with the smallest amount of force. You gag with it, a rogue tear joining the mess dripping down your chin. You pull off to slap his cock against your tongue.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu gasps.

You wonder how long it’s been for him, if he’s gone through the same dry spell as you. Mingyu said he hadn’t been on a date but that doesn’t mean he’s been celibate too. 

“Fuck, babe,” he keens. 

You work him with a spit slick grip, while catching your breath. “Take your shirt off.”

Saliva drips down your chin, fucking him with your mouth in slow measures. If Mingyu could see how fucked out you know you look then he’d be cross eyed. He silently pleas for more, hips curling into the torture you rain down onto his length. Your throat opens as you swallow his cock down, nose to his stomach. 

Mingyu tries. He really, truly tries not to blow his load in the first five seconds of having your mouth on him, but your lips tighten when he’s half way out and he flounders like he’s never had a blowjob before. Cum washes over your tongue, and you take it all, swallow it cleanly. It floods your mouth, excess pushing out the corners of your lips for you to collect later.

You don't get to enjoy the pleasure of a job well done for long. Mingyu hauls you up into his chest, sucking the traces of his spend from your teeth, fingers back back between your legs more aggressive than before.

“Just like that,” he instructs, his other hand dragging you over his crotch like you're riding his cock and not his thigh. You wish you were. 

But there isn’t a condom nearby. You’re desperate, not stupid. Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t fuck your ex-boyfriend turned colleague in the back of your car. So you settle for thinking about how his cock was made to split you perfectly, imagine Mingyu fucking you hard and fast while his fingers supply a decent alternative. 

“Gonna c-come.”

“Good,” he croaks. “Want you to.”

Two fingers become three, the heel of his hand leveraged against your clit for a perfect grind. You claw at his chest, pink lines to be found in the morning.

Fantasies and memories swirl together behind your eyes. Mingyu telling you to take his cock, praising you for it, giving it to you as hard as you can take and then some more.

“Mingyu.” Your back arches painfully as a thousand stars explode in your eyes. 

Brain dulled by the first truly satisfying climax you’ve had in months, you nuzzle down into Mingyu’s neck and fall asleep. 

The morning comes slowly then all at once. You’re warm, sweaty around your hairline. Your face angles out of the sunlight but it’s no use. You open your eyes just a hair. You’re nose first against the upholstery of the backseat, an old sweater serving as a blanket, Mingyu nowhere to be seen. 

Memories of last night assault you.

Fuck.

No wonder he left. He’s not good at letting people down easily. Even if it didn’t mean anything he’d hate to be the one to say it. 

Checking your reflection in the visor mirror, you look exactly like someone who hooked up in the backseat of a car and fell asleep right after. You fix your hair, tug the collar of your shirt high enough to conceal one of several hickies Mingyu littered across your chest. Most are lower, where no one will see, which is somehow better and worse for the sense of dread coil in your stomach. You shudder to think what he looked like this morning.

Just as you're about to go looking for him, a tow truck pulls up. 

“Need a tow?” the driver calls. Sitting beside him in the cab is Mingyu, significantly more put together than you thought he’d be.

“Ugh, yeah.”

Stuart wiggles out of the car, barely coming to your chin in terms of height and maybe old enough to be your grandfather’s grandfather but he carries himself with the energy of someone much younger. A toothpick sticks out the corner of his mouth like he’s some Western movie star.

“Where did you find this guy?” you ask Mingyu.

“The diner in town. Here,” Mingyu says, handing you a styrofoam coffee cup. “He says he can take us all the way back to the city.”

“How much will that cost?”

“Free ninety nine for my new friends!” Stuart interrupts. “This fella gave the misses the tiramisu recipe we read about in the paper from his shop. Can’t put a value on secrets.”

You probably could have given how tight lipped Mingyu is about his recipe book, protecting it with his life. It’s the only thing he has ever been able to successfully hide from you. 

“Thank you, Stuart.”

“My pleasure,” he nods, before getting back into the truck and working to load your car.

Mingyu rocks from one foot to the other while watching from the sidelines. “About last night…”

“It was a mistake. We shouldn’t have done it.” You beat him to the punch.

“Mistake?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

You don’t wait for his response as you brush past him, thankful Stuart’s truck has enough room for you to hide in the backseat while Mingyu takes shotgun.

Day one of the Hong-Ko wedding weekend extravaganza starts with a bang.

Literally.

Seungkwan beats down your door long before the sun is up. Guests won’t arrive until at least dinner time but that means you only have a few hours to get to the venue, set up basecamp, double and triple check everything, and acclimate to Mingyu’s presence enough to not become a sweaty, blushing mess every time he comes within eyesight. 

“I still can’t believe you two didn’t make out,” Seungkwan says.

He hammered for details from the moment he arrived at your apartment until parking the car outside the estate. You managed to keep the details under lock and key. Mostly because you didn’t want to hear Seungkwan’s conspiracy theories, but partially because if you say it happened then you can’t ignore it anymore. But your rigid silence didn’t deter him. Now that the day is done and there are no guests to eavesdrop, Seungkwan takes the mantle back up.

“Well, believe it,” you respond, only a step behind. 

You still aren’t familiar with this part of the house. The pale walls are covered in old paintings, each door decorated with a different flower to denote the suite’s theme. You were in the Lily room, while Seungkwan was further down the hall in the Tulip suite. 

And right next to you happened to be the Rose room where Mingyu would be staying.

He made a brief appearance this morning at the check in meeting with all the vendors in staff in the ballroom. You only noticed because stood out a head taller than everyone else, perfect height to show off the Dodgers hat he tore off when you made eye contact. Then he was lost to the chaos of the day.

You consider it a blessing that Jihoon went toe-to-toe with the staff about where he could and couldn’t put his arrangements while you played referee. It kept you far away where you couldn’t do anything stupid.

“See you in the morning,” you yawn, leaving Seungkwan in the hallway.

Every muscle in your body aches from spending all day on your feet, lifting chairs and moving decor. Who needed a gym when your job was so physical? 

You need a shower to wash away the grit and sweat of the day – the noise of water drowning the outside world into silence, only the floral soap and sting of hot water preventing you from drifting away into nothing. 

On the bathroom counter is an array of goodies. Sheet masks, bubble bath, bath salts and oils. If you had the energy, you’d take a long soak in the clawfoot tub, maybe call the kitchen for some tea. But tomorrow will be another long day and you should get to bed.

Thankfully the shower has great water pressure. You crank it all the way up, enough to boil alive, scrubbing until your skin hurts. 

After you’re sufficiently raw, you let the water run over you. In the haze of steam, your mind wanders. To do lists, itineraries, details for other weddings. You try to block them out and focus on nothing but that leaves you with the one person who you really don’t want to think about.

Touching Mingyu hadn’t worked, ignoring him hadn’t worked. There weren’t many options left besides assuming a new identity and running away to another city. Even if you did, you know it won’t help.

How right it felt to have him beneath you, moaning into his skin from even the lightest touch. More recent memories you’re desperate to forget but the universe clearly refuses to give up its entertainment just yet. If you can’t beat them, you might as well join them.

You imagine his mouth, Mingyu on his knees before you, lips teasing over your stomach. The way he’d watch you through his lashes, waiting for you to beg him to touch you.

Just as your hand skates down your front, a familiar moan echoes through the wall.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You freeze.

This cannot be happening.

“Y/N,” Mingyu whimpers.

For a moment you think Mingyu knows you can hear him, every muscle in your body zipping tight. But that isn’t possible. You didn’t even know he was in the shower until just now and the likelihood he could hear you was slim. 

His broken voice rounding over the syllables of your name replays over and over and over.

You know what Mingyu is doing, can picture him down to the last detail. Another curse. Lip snagged between his teeth, stomach caved in, cock leaking through the tight grip of his fist. You’ve watched him do it enough times to know exactly what makes him sigh and moan and grunt. Made him come the same way only a few days ago. You remember it all. How he’d try to keep his eyes open to watch your reactions and fail, how his chest and throat tinged pink, how his thighs flexed and—

“Fuck,” Mingyu’s disembodied voice shudders.

And how he sounds when he’s coming.

You flee the shower, hair soaked, scrambling for the world’s smallest towel courtesy of housekeeping. This cannot be happening. All you wanted was one night of peace but even that was too much to ask for.

It’s one thing to think about Mingyu. It’s another ordeal to rub one out while he seemingly does the exact same thing only a wall away, unaware he has an audience. At least he is free from the weight of knowing you use him as spank bank material. You have to live with the fact that he fucks himself with your name on his lips.

The bedroom is safe from Mingyu but your brain isn’t. You try thinking of something else – anything else – but nothing can break through the loop of his sighs. Trying to escape him between the sheets proves to be worse. Every time you turn, you half expect to see him on the other side of the mattress. Each time the windows rattle from the wind it reminds you of the shaky noise of his moans. The tug of the sheets across your body reminds you of his hands, caressing your stomach, your thighs, your chest.

You don’t sleep a wink.

Your feet hurt, your head hurt. A sixteen hour day filled with a crying bride and demanding family drained your entire life force. All you wanted was to get home, lay down, and pass out.

When you made it through the door, Mingyu was sitting at the kitchen table. Another thing in your way.

“How was it?” There was an edge to his tone. It’s not a question, it’s an integration. Sometime after the fifth hour you turned his contact on Do Not Disturb and Mingyu knew it.

“I don’t want to do this right now. I’m tired,” you say.

“You never want to do anything. You put more energy into other people’s relationships than ours.”

“I’m sorry I have a fucking job!”

“It’s not about that!” he argued.

You collapsed into one of the dining chairs, the last flame of fight snuffed out. This was it. The inevitable end that you attempted to put off for months. You thought it was a rough patch, an adjustment period from doing weddings full time. But there were more bad days with Mingyu than good ones. You cried for no reason, avoided him in your shared apartment. It was all so exhausting.

“I don’t want to dread coming home. I don’t want to fight with you all the time. I’m just…tired,” you choked, tears pricking your eyes already. “I—I think we should take a break.”

“What?” Mingyu said.

Mingyu stared at you, unmoving. Once upon a time, you thought he was it. The one. Your person who would be with you through everything. Someone you’d figure everything out with. When you started planning weddings full time, you watched couples exchange vows over and over and over, all with the same cliches. Two puzzle pieces, halves of a whole circle, soulmates. No matter how many times you heard the metaphors, you always pictured Mingyu and the day you would be standing at the end of the aisle saying the same thing.

Until you didn’t.

“We should break up.”

“Fine,” he said.

When he left that night, you stayed behind to pick up the pieces of your heart.

The entire day leading up to the rehearsal dinner goes smoothly. Joshua and his groomsmen hung out on the estate’s golf course while the bridesmaid’s took over the spa, and you avoided the kitchen at all costs. Luckily, one of Sarah’s aunts has a conniption over the size of her suite and you spend the entire day rearranging room assignments, careful to follow Josh and Sarah’s rules. Aunt Beatrice cannot be within fifty feet of uncle Simon, Simon and Grandma Tildy both snore loud enough that whoever is in rooms adjacent need earplugs but Sarah’s mom won’t wear them so her parents need to be far away. It’s a giant puzzle. One you thrive on untangling, mind lost to figuring out the limited combinations that will prevent all out war. 

At 4:30 the rehearsal ceremony ends and you’re corralling the entire wedding party and dozens of relatives into the formal dining room where Dokyeom waits to serve them. Seungkwan helps usher everyone to their assigned tables. Far easier than reshuffling rooms since half of them refuse to go near tables with their known nemesis present. 

Dinner continues without a hitch, champagne flowing through each course. Dessert comes and with it Mingyu. The staff served the panna cottas under his watch, meticulously checking each tray before it’s served. Your gaze follows him like a magnet. It makes you smile, pride blooming in your chest. 

What happened with Mingyu was a bruise that might always remain tender, but you want him to be happy. Even if you weren’t the person to do that anymore. 

As the desserts go out, Seungcheol, Joshua’s best man, rises to give a speech. You find an empty table in the back to watch.

“I met Josh when we were six years old and he decided to pour milk in my shoes. Lucky for me, I met Sarah under far better circumstances. She side swiped my car.”

Everyone laughs. 

“It was an accident!” Sarah argues. 

“Can you believe this guy?” Jeonghan whispers, taking the seat next to you.

You don’t know Seungcheol well but the number of photos of him and Josh from childhood till last week speaks to their friendship, they flash by on the giant projection screen. Apparently, Seungcheol introduced them.

“Some people actually speak from the heart and not just pretend to for a paycheck.”

Jeonghan clutches his chest. “I’m offended.”

“Good, that’s why I said it,” you snort.

You’ve worked with Jeonghan enough to know he’s always working an angle. He probably wants to know which bridesmaids are single and not insane, or he’s looking for something to keep himself entertained.

“So you and the baker…”

There it is. 

“I will kill you where you stand.”

The threat rolls right off him. “First, I’m sitting. Second, who will write about your weddings?”

“Michael,” you shrug.

Jeonghan’s eyes roll. “Michael can barely string two sentences together.”

“Okay, but he isn’t as annoying.”

Snagging a champagne flute from a passing waiter, you slouch back in the seat. If you’re going to talk about Mingyu with Jeonghan, then you need something much stronger.

“Listen, far be it for me to give you relationship advice,” Jeonghan says with shocking sincerity. “But if I didn’t know you were attempting to be a nun then I think you two would make a good couple. He seems like a nice guy.”

“Been there, done that,” you mumble.

Jeonghan opens his mouth to ask for more details but something over your shoulder stops whatever he was going to say.

“What?”

“Looks like someone else is currently trying to do that.” 

You follow Jeonghan’s stare to the corner of the room where Mingyu is held captive by a tipsy bridesmaid. Her hand on his chest, bright red manicure contrasting against his pristine white chef’s jacket. Like blood on fresh snow. The same red tinges the corners of your vision.

The corners of his mouth tilt upwards. “Jealous?” 

“No,” you say stubbornly.

Mingyu can do whatever he wants, with whomever he wants. It’s not your business. What is your business is the fact he’s supposed to be working right now, not chatting up a tall blonde in the corner of the room. You know every bridesmaid, at least what Sarah deemed important enough to share. Margaret lives in New York City, does pilates six times a week, and looks like she is perpetually put together in a way that says she is not trying at all. The last part you figured out yourself when she arrived yesterday, fresh off a sixteen hour flight from Bali without a hint of jet lag. 

Seungcheol wraps up his speech, applause echoing in the room as the maid of honor takes his place. You stay rooted in place, watching Mingyu flirt and chuckle at whatever Margaret is saying. 

The final straw is she squeezes her nails into his arm like he’s a piece of meat.

Downing the last bit of bubbly, you stand. “I’ll be right back.”

“Go get ‘em tiger.”

You cuff Jeonghan on the back of the head before heading to battle.

He’s flirting on the job. That’s what you tell yourself this is about. Mingyu tarnishing your reputation by association because he can’t keep it in his pants, despite the fact that you are about as bad as he is. Except the closer you get, the more obvious he is doing the complete opposite of that.

“Do you work out?” Margaret asks, reaching up on her tiptoes to speak into his ear.

“Not really,” he responds, voice tight. When his eyes meet yours over Margaret’s shoulder, they flash with something you assume is HELP ME.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you smile politely, teeth glinting like knives as they both turn towards you. “But I need Mingyu’s help.”

He untangles from Margaret’s clutches, strategically using you as a shield. “What’s wrong?”

“Um… kitchen emergency,” you say, side-eying Margaret pointedly.

Mingyu blinks in confusion. “Emergency?”

Margaret’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “What kitchen emergency?”

“Confidential. Sorry. Have you tried the champagne? It's great,” you say as you wrap your arm around Mingyu’s and stride towards the hallway. The opposite direction of the kitchen. Oh well.

“What happened in the kitchen?” Mingyu says once outside. “Did Dokyeom fuck with my cakes? I told him not to touch—”

“Everything is fine,” you explain. “I just thought you could use an out.”

Mingyu laxes before shuddering. “I thought she was going to eat me.”

“Margaret is harmless. Sarah told me her last divorce ended on good terms.”

“Well, in that case.” He pretends to turn back, jerking back where your arms are linked. 

“Please do not make me deal with a pissed bridesmaid because you turned her down.”

“How did you know I was gonna turn her down?” he argues.

“Because you look like a constipated baby when you don’t know what to say.”

“I do not!”

Stifling a grin, you level him with an expectant look. “You looked like you wanted to die.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as well. “Well, you aren’t wrong. She was asking if I modeled.”

“Oh, god. Don’t let that go to your head.”

“Why not? Don’t you think I’d be a good model?”

His face morphs into the best Zoolander impression he can manage which isn’t saying much. You’re still linked at the elbows, allowing Mingyu to pull you closer when you try to hide your laugh from his ridiculous expression. Feels nice, normal even, having him by your side, laughing over something stupid. You can almost forget last night. Almost.

You look at the floor, continuing to walk further away from the party you’re still working. “Finance guy turned baker turned model.”

“I am a man of multitudes.”

Mingyu stops, face inches from yours. You falter under his gaze, smile dissolving as you stare up at him. His eyes fall to your mouth, close enough you can count each of his eyelashes. Then it rushes you all at once, stunned by the realization that you want him to kiss you and you want it to mean something. Your chin tilts up, Mingyu already halfway there and…

Seungkwan’s voice cracks in your ear. “We’ve got a drunk bridesmaid causing a scene.”

You inhale shakingly, untangling your arm from Mingyu’s and stepping back. You wince before lifting the mic to your lips. “Be there in a second.”

“There is throw up in a potted plant,” Seungkwan replies. “One of Jihoon’s potted plants.”

Cringing again, you take a step back. “Well, there is now a real emergency so I better…”

“Yeah, I…Yeah.” 

Turning on your heel, you walk back towards the party, barely stopping yourself from looking back at where Mingyu waits.

You spend the entire night tossing and turning, brain firing at rapid speed. You never sleep well during an event.  Skin tight and itchy, you pace back and forth. Opening the windows helps a little, the light chill of wind breaking the restless feeling. 

Except it’s not about the wedding. By all accounts, for the time you were granted, everything has gone shockingly well so far. Everything is sorted and the only things that can go wrong at this point are the numerous possibilities that would require years to list out. You’re seasoned enough to know that.

It’s Mingyu.

And the way he looked at you after you saved him from Margaret. The way he looks at you in general, when he thinks you’re not looking. When he walks into a room and you’re the first person he looks for. His face when you said the night in the car was a mistake.

You’ve been so stuck in not wanting to look bad in front of Sarah and Joshua, you haven’t given your feelings any real thought. Clearly, not thinking about him wasn’t working so perhaps you needed to actually untangle your problems the way you did with a seating chart. 

On one hand, Mingyu seems like he isn’t the same man you left years ago. He’s happier, more himself than he was in those months culminating in your break up. Different. Not in a way that scares you, the Mingyu you know is still there, in the way he jokes and tries to fix things before they become a problem. Whatever is different about him excites you.

On the other, you don’t know what he’s thinking. If any of the kisses or stolen moments meant anything to him. If he was working through the same feelings or if he was just a guy looking for a good time with someone he knew intimately. He could still be the same man who accused you of putting him on the backburner for your career.

You wouldn’t know what he wanted until you ask.

One of you had to be brave enough to address whatever was happening, and after multiple rejects you were the one who had to do it. It would suck and you would probably cry but after this weekend, you promise yourself to talk it out with him. If that firmly shut the door closed on your relationship then so be it but at least there would be an answer. At least, you wouldn’t spend every night spiraling.

The uneasy nerves from before are quieter this time. Having a plan, even when it’s as simple as asking Mingyu where his head is at, calms you. 

The sun barely peeks over the horizon when you head to the bathroom to get ready. Mingyu has never once been an early bird in the time you’ve known him and he didn’t have to be anywhere to be until tonight for the cake cutting at the reception. You still listen for any signs of him on the opposite side of the wall but nothing, not even a question shuffle, comes through. 

Taking your time, you wash your face, the cold water keeping you alert enough until you can snag a coffee from the kitchen. There isn’t a point in putting too much effort into your hair and make up, the day was forecasted to be warm and with all the running around you needed to do you’d sweat out whatever effort you put in.

When done, you pull out the black dress laid out for today. The usual slacks and blouse didn’t seem formal enough for a day like today. Floor length, with just enough back exposed to still be appropriate, it is the most expensive thing you own. You’d probably be wearing it to the grave to justify the cost. But you can’t put a price on looking the part of ‘wedding planner everyone wants to work with.’

After twenty minutes of twisting and forcing flexibility you do not have, the dress is zipped, your heels are on, and you head back into the bathroom for final touches. 

While you fought with a pile of chiffon from hell, Mingyu woke up.

“No, I can’t just—” Mingyu’s voice floats through the wall. 

You look fine in the mirror. There's no reason to linger any longer. You’re about to leave, determined not to eavesdrop, when his voice makes you stop.

“I can’t ask her to get back together, Mom, that’s not fair.”

It’s like someone cut the tether to your body, and now you're floating.

Get back together…

The words don’t hit you like that should. At least, not at first. It’s like being underwater, Mingyu tossing you into the deep end.

“I know she doesn’t want to do this with me,” he continues. “No, she didn’t say that but I can’t imagine working with your ex-boyfriend on the biggest wedding of your life is very fun. She’s worked hard for this, I’m not gonna ruin it for her by making it about me.”

Your ass meets the tile floor, his words replaying over and over again. When you snap back, you can’t hear anything but the steady rush of your pulse, lungs burning like you ran a marathon. For a second you think everything Mingyu said is a hallucination co-sponsored by stress and sleep deprivation. But you know that isn’t the truth which means you have half an answer on what he’s feeling. It makes bringing it up later seem much easier to approach than jumping feet first. 

The vibration of your phone snaps you back to now.

Seungkwan: ellery says no coffee for vendors

Later, you can browbeat Mingyu into telling you everything. Right now you have work to do. First, stop a mutiny of florists, musicians, and kitchen staff. 

You type out a response while rushing out the door. 

Y/N: tell him i will personally reimburse him for whatever we drink

Seungkwan: i told him to eat my ass

Y/N: i pay you to make my life easier…

Seungkwan: you do not pay me enough for that, settle for my dazzling humor and friendship

Glancing up from your phone, you see a frozen Mingyu hovering half way out his own door. White coat in hand, ready to head down to the kitchen.

And he’s staring at you like you might as well be naked.

“Hi,” you manage, voice more breath than sound.

Good morning, I heard you tell your mom, who still texts me every year on my birthday by the way, that you want to get back together. Coffee?

“You look nice,” he offers, eyes raking over you from head to toe.

Your heart thuds with the urge to confess everything, to hide away somewhere on the grounds for the rest of the day with him and work it all out. Now. But this is the biggest wedding of your life and you have worked hard for this. Whatever you need to have out with Mingyu, he will be waiting on the other side of today.

“Thanks. I—um— I have to go.”

You barely make it ten feet down the hall before Mingyu says your name.

“Wait!” he calls.

You turn to face him. “Mingyu, I really need to go.”

He looks like he didn’t plan further ahead than asking you to give him a second glance, unsure of himself now that he got it. “I just wanted to say…good luck.”

“Thanks. You too.”

Within ten minutes of descending the stairs, no less than four issues require your attention. The guest book is nowhere to be found, the band left cigarette butts outside in the garden last night sending Ellery into a fit and prompted him to withhold coffee, the flower girls (Sarah’s twin nieces) refuse to share their basket, and Jihoon is on the verge of a mental break down over bouquets.

Divide and conquer. While Seungkwan tracked down the book, you focus on negotiating with Satan himself.

In the kitchen, Mr. Ellery guards the coffee pots like a watchdog, snarling at anyone who gets too close. You approach him without an ounce of fear. Honestly, you’ve had enough of his weird eyebrows.

“Mr. Ellery,” you greet. “I heard we had a bit of a situation.”

“‘A bit of a situation,’” he gasps. “I will not have my family home littered with garbage!”

“And I agree. That is why my assistant is already outside cleaning up the mess and I’m going to speak to the people responsible once we’re done.” You plaster the same slightly unhinged smile on your face from last night. “However, if my staff isn’t treated well then perhaps next time I have a premium event, I’ll take it elsewhere. Just to avoid this same conflict from happening.”

No one got fair in this business by letting people walk all over them. 

Don’t fuck with me, old man.

Brown eyes went wide. “Well, let’s not be hasty—”

“Coffee. Now.”

Not caring to respond, his arms cross tightly over his chest with a ‘humph’ before stepping away, defeated. One of the catering staff jumps in immediately to start the machine. 

One down, fifty million to go.

Next is the band.

They huddle around in the corner of the ballroom. Laughing and joking with one another despite the early hour. You know exactly one of them, Jun, who is a head taller than the other two. He had worked a few events with you before and you know he isn’t the one leaving a mess outside. He probably didn’t know it happened.  

You stand behind the shortest one, clipboard clinched in your grip, waiting for their attention. Jun and the bassist, Minghao, stop talking to stare at you while the one in front of you continues. 

“And so I told her, I have to—”

“Excuse me,” you snap.

The brunette whips around, a high pitched squeal leaving his throat. 

“You.”

“Me?” he replies.

“Are you the one who can’t clean up after himself?”

His eyes go wide, the hands in his pockets now in front of him like you might take the clipboard and beat him to death with it. “I didn’t—”

“Listen to me very carefully,” you went on, taking a step closer. “You’re going to go outside and pick up every single filter, every single ash and leave it like you found it. Actually, better than you found it. And you do it again and I will light you on fire. Got it?”

“Chan’s in trouble,” Jun singsongs.

“Yes, ma’am,” Chan mumbles to his shoes.

“Give me your cigarettes and a light,” you demand, hand out like a teacher confiscating a note. Chan shoves the entire pack into your hand, his own shaking. “Now, if you all could go set up, I would appreciate it.”

The four of them all but sprint out of your vicinity. They’re still in earshot when you hear Chan scream again, probably because Jun has him by the ear like a parent. You can’t relish in the humor of it for long.

Seungkwan finds you at the entrance of the ballroom, the book and a second basket in hand.

“Where did this end up?” you ask.

He huffs without any amusement. “Grannie Donna apparently has sticky fingers.”

You take his hoard, swapping the cardboard box in your hand for the basket.

“Take Jihoon outside, give him these and the biggest coffee you can find. Whatever you do, don’t let him leave.”

“Yes, boss,” Seungkwan salutes and beelines it down the hall.

“And only let him have those out in the parking lot,” you call after him. “Not the gardens.”

“Got it.”

You’re alone in the hallway. Not really, because venue staff are rushing about to set up breakfast, clean before guests come down from their rooms. But even with the morning mishaps, the day is already ahead of schedule. At three the ceremony will start, pictures, dinner, and then Mingyu. 

Mingyu with the cake, you remind yourself.

Checking your watch, you head to the foyer. The makeup artist should be arriving any minute and that meant—

“Holly, thank god.”

She beams when you pull her into a hug, her kit digging painfully into your side. “Good to see you too. Now, where is the bride to be?”

“Upstairs. I’ll show you.”

“So Soonyoung said Mingyu is here too,” Holly says after reaching the second floor. 

“Small world,” you shrug.

“You are a horrible liar.”

“Am not!”

“Yes, you are,” she says. “So how many times have you kissed him?”

“Twice,” you say.

“Damn it.”

“What?”

“I owe Soonyoung twenty bucks.”

“You’re betting on my love life?”

Holly laughs. “I am married. I need some form of entertainment.”

There’s no use in lying. Of all the people to judge you, Holly is the last person to join the line. Besides, she’s the only one that knows Mingyu almost as well as she knows you.

“I may have overheard him talking about wanting to get back together,” you share. 

Holly doesn’t miss a step as she replies, “Yeah, he does that a lot.”

“What?”

“Okay, maybe not a lot but I know he’s asked Soonyoung more than once if it was a good idea to call you and I also know six weeks ago he showed up at our house like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You stop on the landing, facing her. Holly stops too, unphased by your petulance. 

“If you did that, would you want Soonyoung to tell him?”

“You’re telling me now.”

“Yeah well, you planned my wedding for free, I owe you.”

“Mingyu made your wedding cake.”

“He also threw up in my pool and I didn’t kill him so he’s at net zero.”

“What if…What if we don’t work?”

Holly taps her chin, head tilting to the side. “Then it doesn’t work.”

“Thank you wise one, what would I ever do without you.”

“Things change. People change. Mingyu…he’s worked really hard to be in a better place than when you two broke up. I think if you don’t at least talk to him about it then you’ll regret it.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Full transparency, I take credit for getting you two together. I knew he’d be obsessed with you the moment he laid eyes on you and I was right. So when you two do work out, I will be first in line to make a speech.”

Your eyes roll. “Whatever you say. Now, go. Sarah is waiting.”

Six hours later, the ceremony goes off without a hitch.

It’s the wedding of fairy tales. The florals Jihoon nearly ripped his hair out over transform the already stunning garden into a botanical wonder. Each of the bridesmaids look straight off the cover of a magazine in their gowns, the same for the tailored tuxedos the groomsmen don. After the flower girls scatter white rose petals all over like confetti, Sarah floats down the aisle in her wedding dress to a teary eyed Joshua, they recite their vows with just enough vulnerability, and when the officiate cues them, Joshua wraps Sarah in his arms, dips her low to the ground, and seals their love with a kiss.

Your favorite part of weddings isn’t the first look or watching the bride walk to her soon to be husband. It is always the moment after the kiss. When the couple is so clearly lost in their own world, staring at each other as if all the cheering from the audience is silenced in their own little bubble. And then comes the snap back to reality. No matter if they were bold or timid, it is the same every time. A moment just for them you’re lucky enough to witness.

After that is chaos.

You assist Wonwoo with corralling the bridal party for pictures. If the ceremony is a highlight reel, then everything leading up to the reception is a compilation of top ten worst things to ever plague mankind. A hungry bridal party you feed between shots, Sarah’s mom insisting on her good angles which contradict with Sarah’s good angles, and the sun hot in the sky rising beads of sweat along your eyebrow.

“I think that’s good for now,” Wonwoo announces. “I’ll take more inside.”

Dinner passes with no casualties. You even manage to go to the bathroom and eat a plate for yourself without the building catching on fire. With everyone glued to their chair for the meal, it’s hard for anything to go wrong. Then it’s time for the cake.

And with it, Mingyu.

You watch him roll the massive cake out from the kitchen, three feet tall and covered in white frosting. Exactly what Sarah and Joshua wanted down to the fresh cherries resting on the pipped peaks.

To be completely and truly honest, it’s the tackiest wedding cake you’ve ever seen.

Sarah and Joshua cut the cake, Wonwoo snapping pictures from every angle of the monstrosity. You pray the Franken-cake is left out when the photos come out in whatever bridal magazine next month. 

“Not half bad,” you tell Mingyu, leaning on the wall next to him.

“I’ll be sure to put that review on my website,” he snorts. “Dessert First Bakery, we’re not half bad.” 

Sarah swipes a frosting covered finger against Joshua’s chin. 

“It’s so ugly,” Mingyu whispers, horrified.

“It was…unique.”

He pins you with a look. “I used fifteen pounds of buttercream. It’s fucking ugly.”

“You said it, not me,” you shrug.

For a few moments, you simply look at each other. You don’t have the urge to rush away and find some distraction, not like before. The only thing you feel is an ache in your stomach, one you thought died years ago that dark night in that cramped apartment. There aren’t butterflies but full sized birds trying to take flight. 

“Well,” Mingyu’s jaw flexes. “I’ll leave you to it.”

You watch him go, escaping out into the hall, leaving you behind. That moment with him still lingers, the entire party dull on your senses because all your brain focuses on is where he disappeared, the urge to follow him like a moth to flame.

Lifting the mic of your head set, you speak. “Seungkwan, can you cover for me?”

“On it,” he responds instantly. “Go get your man.”

You don’t bother chastising him. There are more important things to do. Like finding Mingyu before he slips away.

The first step towards the exit is hard. The ones after are incredibly easy.

He’s halfway down the hall, back in the direction of the kitchens, when you catch him. “Mingyu, wait.”

Mingyu’s face gives nothing away.

“Can we talk?”

He nods.

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

You take one look at Mingyu before turning on your strutting past him towards the stairs. “Come on.”

His footsteps click behind you the entire way back to your suite. Luckily, everyone else is down at the reception or tucked away in their rooms for an early night. Neither of you speak the entire way, not stopping until the door of your suite latches with a barely audible click. 

As close as you feel, the chasm between you and Mingyu is much wider now that you're at the edge and attempting to cross.

“I’m guessing this isn’t about the invoice,” Mingyu jokes, hands in his pockets.

Your head shakes. Your hands are shaking too. The room feels so much smaller with him taking up space.

“Then what is it?”

You exhale. “You told your mom you couldn’t ask me to get back together. Why?”

There goes being subtle about it.

“How do you know that?” he asks, shocked.

“I’m psychic,” you deadpan. “I can hear you through the bathroom wall, genius.”

“You were spying on me?”

“You were the one jerking off while thinking about me so I’d say we’re even.”

His neck flares red, eyes wide in horror. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Mingyu, I don’t care about that,” you huff. “Why did you tell your mom we couldn’t get back together?”

“I didn’t think it was an option.”

“I’m not saying it’s an option, I just…”

“Then what are you saying? What do you want from me, Y/N?”

“I—”

Mingyu steps closer. “You wanted to break up. I agreed. You wanted space, I gave it to you. You wanted me to do this wedding, I did it. I didn’t sleep for three days making sure everything was exactly how you wanted it. After the car, I thought you said it was a mistake so I dropped it. I’ve always tried to give you what you want. So tell me what you want and I’ll do it,” he says, voice a little desperate. 

“I was planning to talk to you about this after this weekend was over…” you shudder, chest tight. 

“Talk to me about what?” Mingyu watches you with guarded hope, fingers flexing at his sides like he wants to reach out and hold you but he doesn’t. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want you.”

The words hang in the air, spelled out in the space between you and him, heavy like smoke. 

“Be more specific.”

“I miss you and I want you back, even if we hate each other and don’t work and you hope I get hit by a bus—”

Mingyu pulls you into his chest, silencing your ramble. “I have never hated you.”

You melt into his warmth, the smell of his cologne and sugar and vanilla conjuring tears. It feels like home. He feels like home.

“Every time I look at you I feel like…” you trail off. You don’t know how to describe it. Like a million balloons popping at once, like you’re in the eye of a tornado. Something about a half made whole and whatever other cliches people throw around about the person they love.

“I know,” Mingyu whispers into your hair. The thud of his heart beats into your ear. “I feel that way too..”

As good as it feels to have him unfiltered once again, you’re still terrified. “But we didn’t work, Gyu. What’s changed between now and then? I work more. You work more. Wasn’t that what we always fought about? Not having enough time?”

“That’s not what I was upset about.”

“Then what was it?”

Untangling himself from your hold, Mingyu sits on the bed, chin tipped down, face hidden in his hands. You want to pretend like you never asked, that you two are back together and everything is sunshine and rainbows because you have him once again. But you can't put a bandaid on an infected wound and hope it’ll heal on its own. As painful as it is, the infection of your past needed to be cleaned.

“I started seeing a therapist,” he says after a long moment.

“You did?”

“I felt like…” his voice clips like he’s trying not to cry. “I felt like I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Mingyu…”

“I know. And that made me feel even worse. I started talking to them a few months after we ended and I realized I wasn’t upset you worked all the time. I was ashamed because you did exactly what you dreamed of doing and I was too scared and I took it out on you. I was always proud of you. I still am. When I see your weddings in the paper and everything. You were so much braver than I was and I felt ashamed of it. And when you left I didn’t even blame you for it. And I’m sorry for everything I said, and that I didn’t tell you and I let you think you weren’t important to me.”

You wait in case he wants to share anything more but Mingyu doesn’t speak. 

“Mingyu,” you whisper, stepping into the space between his legs. He hides his face in the fabric covering your stomach. “Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu.”

Each repetition of his name is punctuated with against his hair. He melts beneath them, tension evaporating from his body as he pulls you closer.

“I forgive you.”

You do. It surprises even yourself that you can forgive him so easily but Mingyu has been trying. Not with the intent to get you back but because he knew he was wrong and wanted to be better. 

Those seem to be the magic words he needs. Mingyu collapses back onto the mattress, pulling you with him. You both lay there, glowing with content. He traces circles on the back of your neck, other hand curled over your back like you might leave. You won’t. Not this time. Not again.

“If I tell you a secret, promise not to make fun of me?”

“Hmmmm.” You pretend to consider it while planting kiss after kiss over jaw, down his neck, soaking in the steady rhythm of his pulse against your lips. “Depends.”

“What if it’s romantic?”

“I guess.”

“I named the bakery after you.”

“What?”

“You told me to save the money I’d put on a ring to open it one day. It felt like the least I could do.” Mingyu hides in your hair, squeezing you so tight your bones hurt. “You always said dessert should be served first at dinner.”

Whatever witty comment blooms on your tongue wilts instantly. So you bite him instead.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“Oh my god, I love you, you cheesy motherfucker.”

Mingyu pulls your palm to his lips, looking straight through. “I love you.”

Your hand curls around his cheek before you kiss him. Just once. A soft pass of your mouth over his, dual sighs of relief mingling together.

“We’re getting back together, right? Because I really can’t handle—”

“Yes, we’re getting back together.”

“Thank god.” Mignyu sags with relief. 

“You know,” you say, arms weaving over his shoulders. “I have the night off.”

“Oh really?”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling too big. “Mhm.”

“And what do you plan to do with your free time?”

“I have a few ideas.”

You suck his bottom lip, fingers working at the buttons of his jacket. He only makes it more difficult by rolling on top of you, taking advantage of the moment to snake his tongue along yours. 

Mingyu groans in frustration, refusing to pull his mouth away from yours. “How do you get this dress off?”

You prod his shoulder, standing to present the zipper curved down your spine. “Help me.”

The fabric goes slack. You let it fall, no attempt at modesty. Turning back to face him, Mingyu stops you, plastering his front to your back, cupping your chest as he watches over your shoulder. 

His thumbs graze your nipples, over and over and over again. It’s madness, how turned on you are from this alone. If he gave you something to grind against you’d come. 

“Mingyu,” you grovel. The ‘please’ is implied with the arch of your ass against his hard on.

A puff of air rains across the curve of your neck, his teeth quick to follow. “I told you to tell me what you want.”

“I want you to eat me out.”

He bends you over the desk with a gentle push. Mingyu nudges your legs further apart, fully on display for him. You hear his clothing fall, the thump of a belt buckle hitting the floor. You hope he’s naked.

When you look back to check, he’s zoned in on your ass and palming over his briefs. You arch a little bit more. 

“Are you planning to just stand there or are you going to do something?” you goad.

“Patience.”

His nose traces over your spine and you savor the attention. The waiting is the worst part but you crave a deeper intimacy than a quick tumble. You want to rediscover all of him, and him all of you.

Teeth sting into the curve of your ass, your eyes rolling. 

Your voice thins when you speak. “Is there a reason I’m still wearing heels?”

“Hot,” he grunts into the back of your thigh, fingers etching along the hem of your thong. 

The wet heat of his tongue snakes through what little is covered by the fabric, right where the arousal he stokes out of you collects. There is some pleasure in being teased but tonight isn’t one of the nights for it. You want him. All of him. Now.

Your fingers slither back into his hair, holding firm. “Take them off.” 

Mingyu rolls down your thighs, abandoning them at your knees to bury his face between your legs.

“Oh my god.” He sucks your clit, tongue lashing with no build up, rough hands spreading your ass. 

No one ate your pussy as well as Mingyu does. He’s too devoted to be selfish, willing to spend as much time as it takes for your eyes to roll and muscles to seize. 

Each shudder and moan forces your breast across the desk, nipples catching on the waxed surface. 

“Fingers,” you moan. “Fingers too.”

Your sighs rise, moaning through the addition of his fingers coupled with a rough lap of his tongue that has you arching back to ride his face. His lips suction tight. You let him fuck you in with slow strokes. 

The desk keeps you upright. All you have to do is take it, take what Mingyu gives and let it fester. 

“Oh my god,” you choke when he leans back and spits on your cunt.

Reaching back blindly, you tug him back by the hair. 

You can feel the end just out of reach. A few vulgar flicks and its release in long waves that make you keen his name horsley. 

The surface of the desk is cool against your skin, soothing the burn in your cheek as you catch your breath. Mingyu kisses up your back, wet lips leaving traces of your arousal everywhere. 

He nips your ear. “Good?”

You nod, craning to kiss him. Mingyu turns you around, not breaking contact, and leads you to bed. Your knees fold over the edge and then you’re looking up at him from where he stands between your spread legs.

“My feet hurt,” you pout.

Mingyu stretches your legs up his chest, ankles right at eye level as he undoes the buckle. He’s still teasing. The bulge of his cock pressed, hidden beneath his underwear, heavy against your ass. 

“You’re the worst.”

He smirks but maintains focus on the dainty strap. “Be patient.”

“Mingyu,” you sigh, half begging half objection from the subtle grind of his hips. “Want you.”

“Let me enjoy this.”

“You’re driving me insane.”

“Now you know how I feel seeing you in that dress this morning.”

 Your eyes roll. “It’s not that nice.”

“I was talking about the woman wearing it.”

Free from shoes, your legs spread, pussy on display. Mingyu swallows hard as your fingers move through the mess of spit and arousal. “Well the woman wearing it wants you to fuck her.”

He cocks a brow. It means nothing with the red tint of his ears. “Does she now?”

“Missed having you come inside me,” you tease.

Mingyu shivers. “Yeah?”

“You were the only one.”

“All mine.”

You sit up, mouth at one of the marks from last week, already healed and just a shadow of what it was. Moving slightly, you pin his nipple between your teeth. “Will you give it to me?”

“Whatever you want,” he pants.

His underwear hits the floor, cock perfect in your palm. You lean back, eyes on his, and spit on it. Mingyu’s hips kick, fucking himself through your grips. 

“What do you want?” 

He groans, throat raw. “Wanna come inside you, want you to ride me.”

“Then come here.”

You guide him into the sheets, splayed out like a full meal. He pulls your leg over his lap. You could stay here. Sat on his thighs, stroking his cock until cum paints his chest white. Clean it up with your mouth. And do it all again over and over.

But this isn’t the only chance to drag him through hell for the sake of pleasure so you save it for later. 

Mingyu grips himself, presenting his length like a throne. All it takes is an easy roll of your hips and your flat against him, full beyond belief.

“Fuck, I love you,” he moans into your mouth as you sink down.

You rock forward, grinding to prevent even a moment without the satisfying feeling of your insides molded to his cock. 

His fingers dig into your ass, helping you with gentle thrusts. “Feels so good, fuck.”

“Mingyu,” you hiss.

“Want you to come for me again.”

His eyes glue onto the view down your front: your throat, your breasts bouncing with every grind, the way his cock disappears and comes back soaked. You watch him watch you, drooling for the fucked out look on his face.

You kiss the cord of muscle in his neck.

“Come inside, Gyu. Give it to me,” you whisper, all breath right in his ear. “I wanna feel how hard you come for me.”

He pinches your nipple, the pain shooting straight to your core.  Your back curves and you feel his cock in the back of your throat.

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Fuck me. Please, fuck me.”

Tugging you off, Mingyu manhandles you down into the sheets.

“No,” you protest, scrambling for him. Any part of him you can reach. 

Those muscles go to use pinning you in place. One hand holds your wrists over your head, thighs splayed across his. Mingyu slaps his cock against your pussy, leaking tip teasing your clit. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you nod, dumb.

He dips lower, lips rubbing against yours for his next command. “Tell me how much you need me to fuck you.”

“Need it,” you sigh, thighs squeezing around his waist, aching for a chance to slip him inside. “Need you to fuck me.”

In a frenzy, Mingyu ruts into the snug feel of your walls. The angle stretching you out just right, cock battering that place inside that makes your joints lock. He spreads your legs wider with a roll of his hips, finding your clit easily. 

“There, there, there.” 

He rubs you raw to the core, not stopping when you tremble. It’s not fair he can fuck you like second nature, dragging you to the brink of insanity with the tiniest bit of effort.

“C-cumming,” Mingyu shudders, finding your mouth once again. You’ll be sore tomorrow from the way he bares down into you, until you’re flat against him, taking it deeper. 

You shudder when he grinds down into you a few more times, pure greed driving him to stay inside you despite his own sensitivity. 

“Oh my god,” he breathes, carefully pulling out. You’re not empty for long. His fingers stuff your opening, slick cum making it an easy slip. 

He pulls them out, presenting them in the pale light of the room. You snag his wrist and suck them between your lips, preening at his reaction.

“God, that’s hot,” Mingyu mutters.

You give another lewd suck before popping off “C’mon lover boy, I need a shower.”

“I can come?” 

You laugh. “Yeah, you can come.”

Mingyu sneaks back into his room, snagging whatever clothes he needs for the night while you hop into the shower. The steam softens all those sore muscles when you hear a knock.

“Can you hear me?” he asks through the wall.

You knock back. “Yes!”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Now hurry up, it’s getting cold.”

An hour later, you’re squeaky clean between the bed sheets with Mingyu. He brought one of his old shirts for you to wear from college. You regret buying him so much Dodgers paraphernalia as a gag gift for Christmas all those years ago. But you take the shirt because it makes him happy. Almost happier than if you chose to sleep naked.

Cuddling up to him, you let your mind wander off, sleeping rolling over you. Your eyes open for one last look only to find him already looking at you, face soft, eyes committing your face to memory.

“Stop staring at me. It’s creepy.”

“I’m not creepy,” he pouts.

“You’re not but watching me try to sleep is.”

“I was going for romantic.”

“How about going to sleep. We have to be up early.”

“Goodnight kiss?” he asks, halfway to your mouth already.

One turns two and two into many more.

You’re both still awake when Mingyu’s alarm goes off hours later.

2 Years Later…

Whisking Up a Perfect Match: The City’s Most Notorious Wedding Planner and Beloved Baker Say 'I Dough’

BY JEONGHAN YOON

They say love is a lot like baking; it takes patience, precision, and a little bit of magic…

taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

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@cookiearmy  @moonlightwonu @kyeomofhearts

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@whrryuu @wonrangwoo @xchaenx @champagnenoona

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[sombrashe]

period pains

includes 𐙚˙⋆.˚ vi, viktor, sevika

content 𐙚˙⋆.˚ gender neutral reader, chubby reader, your period is putting you through the ringer

note 𐙚˙⋆.˚ i started my period and have been suffering and all i want is to be pampered

Vi inexplicably started her period at the same time.

The only time growing up near the fissures has been a blessing and it's when she can hear your curses from the bathroom. She simply sat still on the sofa, barely spotting. Her eyebrows furrow as she watches the door handle. Once it starts jiggling she jumps up and bundles a blanket into her arms. Acting casually she medium speed turns and feigns surprise at you being in front of her.

"Wow, peach. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

You frown and shake a box at her, two loose tampons shake around. You needed tampons.

"Say please."

"No. You used them for your fucking nosebleeds. I told you only light but you just had to stuff your nose with my supers. How do they even fit up there."

Her face instantaneously falls as she clears her throat. Yeah, she definitely meant to replace those. Apologizing she immediately starts making her way towards the front door. Giving you a wide berth, she maintains eye contact the entire way. Narrowing your eyes, you watch in silent wrath as she grabs her jacket off the hook. Hurrying out the front door she doesn't come back until she's stopped and gotten you more than you need. Kicking open the door, it bounces off the doorstop and closes with a click behind her.

"P, peach?"

She straightens her back and tries to wave the lingering fear at the base of her neck. She watches you come around the corner, your gaze somehow angrier. You were able to shower in the time it took for her to shop which left you bleeding and alone. Walking towards her, you tear your eyes away slowly before settling them on the mini haul she got for you. Opening the bags she explains why she chose each item.

"So first, I got those tampons. I bought myself two packs of that nose stuffing that that academy student created. The one who always got into fights. I don't know how he didn't get kicked out. Next, I got you something from Jericho. You haven't eaten today. I also went to that shop you're always going to. The one that you buy all the face masks from. Yeah, I stopped there and got you one of each flavor. Watermelon said it helps with hydration. I also chose this banana one, good for dull skin. Not that you have dull skin. I think your skin looks great, just a little acne. Wait."

Your eyebrows soften as you listen to her go on. Once she pulls out those masks your face softens completely and you take a tentative step to your left. She continues on. You simply listen to her speak about the twenty or so masks she bought, you stopped counting after strawberry. Reaching forward you grab two masks at random and hand her one of them.

"Thank you."

She smiles a slings an arm over your shoulder. Her smile is wide as she gives you a sloppy temple kiss. You huff and shoulder yourself against her, her laugh infectious.

Viktor was always working.

You storm out, your moisturized hands clutching another ruined pair of underwear. Kicking out your leg, you make contact with the door frame. The noise echoes down the hallway and your partner peaks around the corner. Getting up from his desk, he makes his way towards you. His speed slows as he assesses your anger.

"Can you make a machine that tears my ovaries from my body?"

Poor thing. He closes the space between you and gently takes the blood-soaked underwear from your hands and mumbles to himself. Moving around the dorm he mixes and matches things until he throws them onto the bathroom curtain to dry. You watch him once again move around the kitchen. Washing hands, peeling fruit, boiling water. All steps in his plan of taking care of you. You curl into the armchair taking up a corner of the room. It was worn by nights fallen asleep in it waiting for Viktor to come home. Pulling a fluffy blanket over your lap you get comfortable as you wait. He comes over a little while later holding a plate out for you. Mangos and strawberries litter the place and you happily take the plate from him. Next is a cup of hot tea that he gently sets to the side of you. Thanking him ever so sweetly, you start munching on the fruit as he goes to retrieve more items. A warm water bottle is positioned against your lower back and you blink lazily as heat overtakes the pain. While finishing off the last of your fruit, you get to work sipping on your tea. He offers to spend time with you in the living room, but you shake your head.

"I'm getting tired, anyways. You can go back to work."

Giving him a tired smile he leans down and presses a loving kiss to the top of your head. Squeezing his bicep softly, you let him go with a yawn before settling down to the sounds of pencil against paper.

Sevika was never around when you needed her.

Tears break over your waterline and drip down the fullness of your cheeks. Cramps rack your body in pain as you stay curled on the couch. She never came home last night, council meetings taking over most of her time. A low groan is ripped from your throat as a particularly tight feeling squeezes your abdomen. Hugging a pillow close to your chest, you bury your face into it and hope that the pain reliever takes over soon. Not soon enough you feel your limbs relax as the pain slowly lessens until it finally stops. The sudden relief has your mind stuttering and it takes mere seconds before you're lulled into sleep.

"Rabbit?"

The low drawl of your girlfriend's voice wakes you from your hazy sleep. Blinking, you raise your head and look around. Your eyes land on her and you waste no time in rising to your feet. Letting the blanket fall halfway on the floor you gather yourself into her arm.

"I started."

You're muffled against her chest, feeling comfortable between the raised flesh. She clicks her tongue and soothes her hand down your back.

"You took something? Did you eat?"

You nod into her chest, you had a sandwich and that was more than enough with pain taking over most of the space in your stomach. Now you stand there stomach growling, pain having left to make room for your appetite to come crawling back. Looking up she gives you a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Go lay down, I'll make you something."

You squeeze her waist before pulling away and padding back onto the couch. Curling up, you take some more pain medicine and watch from your warm nest as she gets to work making you something hearty. You can feel yourself start to doze off and before long you're being shaken awake. Blinking you take in the bowl in her hands. Steam wafts in the air and the smell of meat and cream fills your nose. With a watering mouth, you thank her and greedily take the bowl from her. Wasting no time you gulp down some of the broth despite the insane burn that overtakes the grooves of your mouth.

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[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

My Bloody Visceral Valentine 18+ Only!

Warning: Smut and Lots of it. Some mild blood and biting. Also talk of taking medical/research samples

Summary: Side story to the Severe Miscalculation storyline. It's the day for Love and Lullaby has a surprise for their tall, dark, handsome Loverboy!

Tags: @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual @moodymisty @jaghatai-khock

Enjoy this slightly late Valentine's Fic! 💌💘💝💖💗💓💞💕💟❣

A soft oasis of comfort and warmth surrounds you.  You Yaaaaaawn and stretch, but you don't remove the blankets

Purrrrrrrr… a large cool arm wraps around your midsection and pulls you back against a similarly muscled frame. Soft dry lips press gentle but insistent kisses starting at your shoulder and trailing up to your neck. 

They tickle but you don't want to pull away, and thankfully you don't have to. “Mmm…Morning sweetness…” You coo, pressing back into the affection. You reach up, burrowing your fingers into his long coarse dark hair so you can scratch his scalp the way you Know he likes. 

“rrrrrRRRRRRR!” The purring doubles.

 The kisses turn damp, and just a little bit sharp. It makes a wonderful twitch light up in your core. 

“Hmmm….” Khopesh inhales, he knows practically before your arousal hits your nerves. 

But you can't let things get Too far ahead, not yet anyway. “Mmmm, do you know what day it is?” You ask, running your fingers through his hair. 

Your question seems to confuse the Nightlord for a moment, he pulls back just a little while he thinks. “Friday...the 14th?” 

You smile and the Nightlord feels the shift as your excitement grows. “Yeeeees, do you know what that means Sugar Plum?” You turn, wrapping your arms around Khopesh's neck, and planting a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Friday…the 14th- Oooooh! It's a Holiday isn't it?” 

“Yep! But not just Any holiday.” You say matter of fact, and slip from his grasp to pad over to the fridge. The hum of the machine picks up when you open the door and fish out your first gift of the day. 

You'd been Extra sneaky covering it with packaged meat products. 

The momentary disappointment Khopesh felt when you'd left the bed, was replaced with intense curiosity. His enhanced nose smells something…Tasty…Fruity! He LOVES fruity things. 

You turn revealing a compact but densely packed bouquet, but rather than actual flowers the blooms are made from carefully carved and arranged fruit. The stems are even made from chocolate. You can't help but feel your grin stretching as Khopesh's dark eyes widen, his tongue traces over his sharp teeth clearly pleased with your offering. 

“This, is for Me?” Khopesh asks, marveling at the edible arrangement as you shuffle back onto the bed. He pulls a strawberry rose from the bunch and gleefully pops it in his gnashing teeth. 

“I had some help from Zaarius and Olly, but I'm proud to say this is all handmade…which is why some of the stems look a bit…wonky.” You say sheepishly, pointing out some areas where the chocolate hadn't been as obedient as you would've liked. 

Khopesh responds by simply plucking up the treat you pointed out and devouring it accordingly. “Delicious. Thank you, my Lullaby!” He purrs, setting your gift on the Night table before scooping you up and gathering you close. The movement makes you squeak in surprise, but next you're suppressing a soft pathetic moan. Khopesh grins as he subtly grinds his hips.   The rapidly growing bulge presses right where he knows you like it as you straddle him. “But I'm also in the mood for something…else~”

You see the devious glint in his eyes, and you know exactly what's on his mind. But rather than jumping to playfully challenge him or give his own medicine back you just take a moment to…take Khopesh in. 

He notices how you aren't falling into your normal rhythm of banter, but before he can ask he feels his stomach flip. He sees the look in your eyes now. 

They are full to the brim with adoration, simple, sweet, blissful adoration. A love so intoxicating he'd never let himself be cut off if he could help it. You brush your knuckles over Khopesh's broad pale cheek, before tracing down to his cool lips. You lean down to brush your nose to his, the gesture is so…So soft. 

He simultaneously feels so caught off guard and so So full of yearning. Your hips move softly, but with a purposeful rhythm, now it's his turn to groan in his throat. “My precious Creature of the Night.” You whisper, so hushed yet so firm in your conviction. “My moon and stars. So strong and beautiful and brave and heroic. My Love~” 

He Is a creature of the night. He Is strong and in some ways Beautiful. And if Bravery meant running in with minimal planning, Maybe. But Heroic? Khopesh would've snorted had he not been so struck dumb. 

A creature like him did not deserve such a description. With all he'd done, the blood and terror he'd sown like seeds of the harvest he…did not…

Your hips grind harder into his clothed member, making him seize up from the pleasure. So familiar, but so good. 

But oh…Oh he was also Greedy. So very Greedy, and you so very willing to give love and receive his enthusiastic affection in turn. Whatever he's done, he Must have accrued some good karma to be given to you. (Given ALL of this honestly, in a warm safe home built by his Vada and Muti so he and You could have a perfect little slice of the world all to yourselves.)

Yes! Yes please! Praise me, Keep me LOVE me. Never ever ever ever Ever let me Go! He wants to beg, but it seems words are a little beyond him at the moment. The corners of your mouth turn up in a gentle but almost knowing smile. The pad of your finger traces his lips. His mouth and throat go dry. 

He wants, he…wants…

“Today is Valentine's Day.” You explain. “Named for the Saint who was executed brutally after he was found to be conducting marriages, despite their being an imperial edict against it. You might find the history interesting…But these days.” You lean down, gently holding Khopesh's sweet face in your small warm hands. Your hips don't stop circling, the softness, the warmth, the pleasure; it's melting his brain in the Best way. You lean your forehead to his. “It's for celebrating all that is Love. Our friends, our family and of course,” You gently ‘boop’ the end of the Nightlord's crooked nose. “Especially, The Love between partners. I'm…I'm so happy I get to celebrate with you.” You say sincerely, even a little emotional under your gentle words. 

After everything you've faced in your miniscule human life span, you feel just as greatful as the Nightlord under you does. To have each other. To not have to face the imposing dark nor the blinding sunlight alone. 

“Sometimes I don't think it's…healthy. Some of the thoughts I have about you. How…Obsessive I feel just Watching you be you.” You say, gently touching nose to nose with your Nightlord. “I worry that I might smother you, or come off as too needy…but for today, just for today…could you…”

Khopesh waits with bated breath, anticipation, anxiety and arousal twisting his stomach in knots. What an odd thing to feel excitement so palpable it Almost feels like too much. 

“Could you…let me worship you? Be obsessed with you, and not worry about that being wrong or unhealthy?” You ask, hushed and nervous. 

He wets his dry lips, “I'd like nothing more…please…tell me.”

You take a deep breath, raise up your arms and remove your sleep shirt. Baring your form to him as you'd done many times before. 

And like those times Khopesh feels the urge, seeing your delightful warm, soft, sun speckled skin. He wants it in his mouth, under his tongue and teeth, in his hands and squishing and molding under his claws. Like a human stress toy, with every squeeze and bite he'd feel his tension release and his arousal spike. 

But you want to speak your mind, and Khopesh's desire to hear Your desires outweighs his want to flip you over and dominate you. What a wonderful thing to be under your spell. Khopesh thinks. 

So so wonderful indeed as your hips resume grinding in earnest. He pulls in a hissing breath through his sharp teeth, and forces his hands to stay on your hips. 

You feel the dampness in your core, meeting the small wet bead of Khopesh's precum through your respective undergarments. Your mouth waters at the thought of swallowing him down, making him cum down your throat while you jaw aches with the stretch. But patience, first. 

“I dream...of making a warm safe place for us.” You say, pulling the hem of Khopesh's underwear down so his flushed cock can be released from it's confines. “Where I can wrap you in the softest blankets, bed you down with the fluffiest pillows,” Your hand grasps his flesh firmly but gently. “Feed you delicious food…make sure you want for nothing, including pleasure.” You stroke, slowly but with the perfect amount of pressure. With your other hand you pull your undergarments from your body. 

Khopesh forces himself to remain still, though his back and hips still bow just slightly, desperately pushing into the warmth of your hand. 

You feel another delicious pulse of arousal in your folds as the precum drips down your hand and slickens your palm. “I'd give you access to my body whenever you'd want it. And I'd always make sure you had softness here.” You reach with your other hand to Khopesh's stomach, tracing gentle but reverent touches to the layer of plush tissue that resided over his core muscles. The presence a testament to how far he'd come from starving to the point of near death. 

“Is…my current softness not to you liking?” Khopesh asks a little confused, not half because his brain is melting with every  movement of your hand. 

You smile and huff, without any bite. “No silly, I just mean…so you'd never have to face growing so thin again.” You reassure him. “You told me you'd faced shortages in your life…so if I was able to, I'd make sure you never had to worry about that. I'd keep you well fed, and well loved.” You lay yourself down so your face can rub and squish into the Night Lord's stomach, while keeping up the movement of your hand. Your other hand wraps around his body for leverage. “I Love your softness, and your strength. So by the same logic I wouldn't want to keep you overfed to the point of pain. Just keeping you perfectly satisfied. Mind, body and soul. You have such a beautiful soul.” More kisses, and the soft texture of your cheeks, hair and lips further intensifies the ticklish heat in his stomach. 

Fuck your hand was Too good. You knew his weaknesses, and you were using all of them all while squishing and rubbing your face into his core and purring about how much you love him. The contrast was almost comical. Between the lustful movements being performed by your surprisingly strong grip, and the fluffy borderline saccharine half hug and nuzzle you're performing on his stomach. 

Then you up the ante by moving your wonderful soft damp hands down further to cup and fondle his testes, as well as speeding your ministrations on his shaft. He, he can't- Can't hold it back- 

“Lu-Lullaby!” Khopesh groans as the peak that's been building hits and he cums. The white gene fluid spills over your hand in heavy drips. A few strays land elsewhere, namely your hair. 

Mildly surprised, you do take a moment, using your clean hand to feel for and collect the bit that went astray in your hair. And for a moment you compare the miniscule dot to the much more…prominent splattering on your other hand. 

“Pfft!” And then you break into laughter. The wonderful, charming, warm laughter that is music to Khopesh's ears, even when it is loud and snorting. It's Perfect. 

“You're Perfect…” He breathes, meaning it totally and fully. He reaches down, and his long clawed fingers trace under your chin. 

“Hmm..I'm not…but I don't mind that.” You say, in reply. As if by habit you begin licking your hand clean. “I have a lot of Love in my life. So I must be doing something righAIT!”

A growl that was equal parts excitement and frustration bubbles up from Khopesh's chest and he yanks (carefully) your much smaller form up until you're basically hovering over your head. 

“Say those things again.” Khopesh insists, peppering kisses, and nips on your thighs as he forces them to straddle his face. 

“S-say, w-what again?” You ask, barely able to string words together. The mix of confusion and arousal makes your stomach flip, and your core twist. 

“The things you desire. Say them again!” Khopesh demands, then presses his mouth to your core in a firm kiss. Giving you a quick jolt of pleasure, before pulling away again. 

Oh now you get it. And you're suddenly struck with slight embarrassment. He wants you to lay yourself bare, While he eats you out. But your core is hurting from how aroused you are so you take a deep breath. 

“I…I want to make a safe place for us.” Khopesh purrs, pulling you down slowly but firmly so he can set his mouth to work. 

The tracing of his tongue from slit to clit makes you tremble, back and forth, back a forth. You force yourself to focus. 

“I love our nest…Both of them. But I-I'd Love a whole room for just that.” You pant, gently shifting your hips to follow that wonderful stimulation Khopesh is giving you. “A place- a place where the whole room would be…Soft. Maybe a bed in the center, on the fl-FlOor! C-covered in pillows and blankets and plushies.”

“Ah, Like a literal nest, but just for Us.” Khopesh hums, before returning to his work. Now swirling his tongue around your sensitive little pearl.

“Uh! Uh-huh! And- whenever, we wanted to just…get away from everything- just for a while- we could just be Us. Pretend…pretend the world doesn't exist. Just for a while.” You agree, now fully flexing and grinding your hips on your Night Lords face. Odd to think a jawline could incite literal pleasure but the feeling of it pressing against your damp folds doesn't lie. 

“Mmm-Lullaby…” Khopesh growls, pressing himself harder into your core as his tongue renders you practically gushing. His hands grasp tighter to your thighs, ensuring you have no escape from the pleasure. You'll possibly have bruises, maybe even claw marks. And in your foggy pleasure drunk mind it causes more arousal to pour into your nerves and out of your slit. 

“I wan-” You pant, nearly losing your words completely. “I want everybody to know I'm Yours.” You tangle your hands into Khopesh's dark hair, and push your Nightlord closer. You feel the slight hard edge of his large sharp teeth but you don't care. You need him closer, closer, Closer.

“I don't just want to smell like you. I want everyone to See it. I'm so Sick of people thinking I'm not Really yours and you're not Really mine.” 

As your legs shake, Khopesh feels his breath catch. Does…does that mean you'd be willing to let him mark your skin, more permanently? By the stars he hopes so! He's been meaning to bring it up, but with how strong willed you are, he'd worry it would come off as pushy.

“I want it! I want everyone to see I'm Yours.” Your breath seems to catch, and your body shakes. The pleasure and hormone cocktail is clearly causing your emotions to roil. “Maybe a Collar, or a bandana! Something that says…Stay Away I'm already Loved…I! I'd love that! Fashion and function! Hehe-OH!” You chuckle, before your brain is completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

You want this. His Lullaby Wants him! To be claimed, kept, touched, kissed, Loved, Marked by him! Nothing you could say could make him more aroused than he is in this moment and at once he turns that energy back on you. He suckles, and slurps, and overstimulates your labia and clit till you have no choice but to soak his face in your juices. 

“K-kHoPesh!” You shriek, grinding and pulling at his hair helplessly as he continues to rock your world with his tongue. Through the final peak and after still you're left twitching and shuddering on his face. His incredibly satisfied and wet face. “Hah…Haaah,” You pant, honestly surprised by the intensity of what just happened. “Kh-khopesh…?”

“Mmmm,” The Nightlord beneath you hums full of satisfaction, and you flinch as his tongue laps over your pink swollen flesh. Making sure nothing goes to waste and sending small overstimulated sparks through your folds. Fuck so good, but also Ow. 

You look down between your shaky, sticky thighs to see that dark eyed grin peaking up at you with so much Cheek. And again for a moment you just…lock eyes, just enjoying being in each others sight, however comical your positions. It's only broken when Khopesh's expression shifts to one of confusion then to panic.

“Shit it's still a training day for you! Anrir is going to flay me alive for this!” Khopesh groans in frustration, which causes you to giggle. “...Why are you not concerned about my potential flaying?”

“Oh…that's the second part of the surprise.” You explain, “I made sure we both got the whole day off.” You say proudly. 

“What? But how?” Anrir may have a mate he could spend this day with, but from what Khopesh was recalling only certain Holidays allowed for complete days off work or school. He may not have remembered Valentine's day but by that logic he figures it's not in that category. 

Anrir's Draga would likely have to spend part of the day at her business, especially if parents and couples wanted alone time on this romantic holiday. That means Anrir wouldn't see her until After daycare and thus would likely try to keep to his usual schedule of study and training for you.  He was rather a stickler about such things. 

“I can be very persuasive…”

“Alright what's it gonna take?” You'd asked the ancient as fuck Nightlord. 

“I beg your pardon?” Anrir replied, slightly caught off guard by you lingering after your training and testing.

“Hair, blood, skin, liver tissue, enamel, bone marrow. Name your price old man, because I want the 14th of this month off Completely for both Khopesh and myself.” You said, with complete confidence. 

Anrir stood there stunned at your forwardness. “In exchange for a day off…you are offering me…samples?”

You nodded. “Yep, I Know Draga won't be available till evening with her job. So that leaves you with nothing to do except science until You get to go home to your wifey on the day of Love.” You hummed. “And based on how you reacted Last time Khopesh kept me from getting here on time, I wanted to cut that issue off at the pass.”

Anrir…chuckled, both because you weren't wrong. The event you're referring to is when Khopesh had… a lapse in judgment; tiring you out so thoroughly and scuttling his ability to run tests on you for the remainder of that day. He'd perhaps been a bit harsh in his correction, but it wasn't like he was going to turn down your generous offer. “I see…but may I ask…what gave you the idea to bargain this way?”

You grinned wryly. “Please Anrir, we're both scientists at heart And have spent a decent amount of time together. I Know you're itching to see if my abilities have had some tangible effect on my biology. Lord knows you take my saliva and blood often enough to tell me that.”

Anrir huffs in delight, and only mild frustration at being found out. “Very well…I will be taking samples of your skin, hair And your bone and bone marrow.” He declares, shuffling through the carefully sterilized tools in his vicinity, and he hopes you don't notice the Slight excited tremble of his hands. He pulls something that resembles a giant needle out. “Please lay on the table, this will be done soon and you'll only need a few days off to recover.”

You gulp, but nod. “Got it…”

“How…You...That's absolutely brilliant!” Khopesh crows jovially, before bringing his large pale hands to squish your cute sweet face, gently of course. “How are you so adorable and yet so Devious~”

You smile through the squishing, fully embracing the affection. “I learned from the Best.” You reply, before gesturing to your water bottle. “Now hand me some water. I want to go again soon.”

Khopesh can't help himself. He cackles, full and sharp, but he does so while grabbing the water for you. You chug down half the large bottle in one go before setting is aside with a determined look. 

“Alright! Bring it!”

….

“Kh-khopesh! M-more!” Leg strung up in the air over his shoulder, feeling the slap, slap, slap, Slap of him fucking you sideways so deeply it makes your form jolt with every impact. “Ah! Ah! S-so good! Keep going!” You demand, gasping and sweat slicked as Khopesh growls with pleasure every time he drives his flesh into your needy sheath. 

The pressure of your insides hugging him so tightly, yet so slick and yielding at the same time. He's going to fill you so full in a matter of seconds so he reaches down and stimulates your sweet little pearl with his fingers.

“Ye! Yeeeees,” You sigh so gratefully as the high hits, causing your muscles to strain and your insides to grip him like a vice. He groans his own satisfaction as his seed pours into your warmth. 

“Mmm…keep…keep moving.” You sigh, and move your own hips back. It's a gentle rocking, compared to the rough pounding you just got, but the aftershocks and fading pleasure sparks feel So much better this way. Khopesh naturally gives you exactly what you want. 

…

“...gulk..ulp…ulk…mmm…” You're held upside down, and your brain is going even more hazy as you're repeatedly moved up and down on his cock like a fleshlight. The stretch in your throat you'd been yearning for at the start is finally being addressed. It burns and strains but your Khopesh is gentle and doesn't leave you unattended to. 

No, no, no he's too busy lapping and suckling and pushing a different muscle into your silky wet folds; seemingly trying to sample every drop you'll give him. 

Your mind is too cockdrunk to really think about that at the moment though. All you care about is the pleasure you're receiving and giving. Almost unconsciously you start humming in your throat. “Mmmm…MMmm~” You blearily think about how slutty it would seem to hum for a cock in your mouth and throat the way one would hum after tasting something delicious. 

But again you don't care for modesty, or dignity or any higher concept at the moment. And you're with someone that makes you feel so safe, and cares for you so well that you don't need to think about such things. (Though somewhere your brain knows the post-nut clarity is going to hit like a truck and you'll feel self conscious for a while.)

For now though you're content, and blissed out and swallow Khopesh's member into your throat again as far as it will go. You want him to come down your throat. You want to swallow his essence, and feel it settle in your stomach.

“Mmm! MmM! L-Lullaby!” Khopesh shudders as his next peak approaches and he stuffs his face into your folds. 

The spike in your own pleasure has you crying out, and the vibrations and swallowing of your throat break him. You feel the prick in your mouth twitch and actually moan as you feel the heat of his release empty down your throat. Or it would go down if you weren't…currently hung upside down. Some of it catches in your mouth as Khopesh slides himself free of you. 

“MmmmrrrrrrrRrrrRRrRr!” Khopesh lets out a trilling purr as he rights you, and gathers you close. You're still a bit loopy and lightheaded and he gleefully thumbs the cum dripping from the corners of your mouth away. 

You smile, and lick the pads of the thumb in question. It causes his arousal to spike all over again, but he does force himself to wait until he can get you to drink some water and take a few bites of a protein bar again. 

…

“Ahhg! Ahg! MmmMmm! Mm! MM! MM!” Your cries are muffled in the forearm in front of you as Khopesh holds you practically in a headlock. (At your request of course.) 

Your sore puffy flesh makes soft but distinct plap, plap, plap, Plap! As Khopesh fucks you with quick, firm strokes of his hips. Not all of them go deep but those that do, you feel his testes rub and slap against your folds and the feeling of being so close makes your mouth water. 

“Rrrrrrr- Lullaby…my…My Lullaby! Mine, always mine!” Khopesh mutters with desperation and pleasure. He nuzzles, and nibbles your hair and your sweet little ears. 

The feeling is ticklish, and you decide to use your last bits of devious energy to pull out your last surprise. “I love you,” The Gothic causes Khopesh's hips to stutter, just for a moment and then you continue. “So fuck me like I'm yours!” 

The words have an immediate effect. Khopesh snarls before going into a flutter of Gothic. “LULLABY!” He drives his cock into your wet, silky depths with new vigor. The creamy ring of your mixed fluids seems to almost splash with the force he's exerting. You can only understand certain words 

"Soft, Devious, Warm, Precious, Clever, Mine, Mine, MINE, MINE!"

The pleasure becomes too much and you fire back. “You! You too!! You're Mine!” You sink your teeth into the forearm in front of you, as your climax hits. 

The sudden ache twists deliciously with Khopesh's own pleasures, and he bears his fangs as he cums. It just so happens your perfect, soft, biteable flesh is right, in front of his mouth. 

A sharp pain lances up your shoulder, but the cocktail of pleasure chemicals not only dull it, but make it so the sharp edge heightens the trembling aftershocks pouring from your core. You're dripping and shaking and feeling so So good but also, why are your shoulder and hair wet?

“MmrrRRR- Lu-LULLABY!? OH CURZE FUCK LULLABY!?” Khopesh is upset but you're not sure why, floating on a cloud of sensation and feeling soooo fluuuuuffy and satisfied.

“Heheheh, cutie pie.” You coo, feeling the wet on your shoulder spread a bit as you try to reach up and boop his adorable crooked nose. You fumble your lips around as you realize there's a coppery taste in your mouth. 

“Stay calm! I'm going to grab the bandages! Thank fuck it doesn't seem…as deep as it…could be…Fuck Fuck FUCk FUCK!” He mutters as he pulls open the night table drawer. 

Bandages? Your baby needs bandages? What happened? Then as he fumbles you see your bloody teeth marks in his forearm.

Oh! OH! “Oh No?? Baby!?” You whine, jumping up to grab his injured forearm. In the back of your mind your shoulder does hurt a little more now but no time for that. 

Khopesh seems struck dumb by you suddenly latching onto your arm. “Lullaby!? You need to hold still I-”

He cuts off his speech when he sees tears beading in your eyes. “I'm sorry Baby! I'll fix it!” You promise, holding the bleeding arm close to your chest and pulling on your power. Khopesh is too stunned to stop you, and before his eyes the miniscule wounds close even faster than they would normally. 

It seems the flow of power also affects you, and your shoulder bite wounds close up roughly. Khopesh hisses under his breath, he knows that the freshly closed bites will be a noticeable scar. 

Once his own minuscule injury has been healed to a nearly invisible scar, you stop pulling on your power and smile at your work. “There, all better.” You giggle, kissing him from his wrist to his forearm while nuzzling and hugging the limb to your body. 

The body that still has a decent amount of congealing and drying blood from your back to your chest. 

He's…he's going to have to talk to Anrir about this. And the possible infection, and antibiotics but for now he just…sighs in relief and disbelief. A small smile turns up the corners of his mouth as he gathers you close.

You hum happily, all unpleasantness seemingly forgotten. He grabs hydration for both of you and coaxes you into drinking. Then he makes sure you eat something, a ration bar in this case. He's fairly certain you don't have the energy or patience for anything more right now. 

“Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetness…” You sigh, contentedly. You snuggle your face into his body as he laps the blood from your skin. 

Khopesh huffs, full of warmth. “Happy Valentine's Day, my Lullaby.” Then he returns to cleaning you. 

…

Several Hours Later 

“ooooooowwww,”

“Should I get the pain medication?”

“Mm-hmm,”

“And the hot water bottle?”

“Mm-hm,”

"You'll need food as well. Would you like me to order us a pizza?"

"Mmm-hm."

"Alright, you just focus on resting. Here, drink some water for me."

“Looove you so Muuuch…oooooow.”

[topgun-imagines]

The One With The Barista

Requested: yes

Summary: Bradley is a regular at the coffee shop you work at. One day, he finally works up the courage to talk to you.

Word count: 0.9k

Warnings: none.

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x barista!reader

The coffee shop was always busy on Saturdays. Every week, people would come in waves to try the new treat that the baker chose for this week. Why he did it on Saturdays, you weren’t too sure. But you did know that everyone packed into the tiny building loved it.

Today’s treat was a lavender and lemon scone with a honey glaze. All morning, people had been filing in and out of the coffee shop, either with the delicacy in their hand or on a mission to get one. All except for one.

A man sat in the corner, similar to how he did most weeks. Every week without fail, he would come in and claim his seat in the corner, spreading out his books while he sipped on the latte that you brought him. He hardly ever moved, nose buried deeply into whatever he was reading.

Today, it looked as if he were reading a novel rather than some type of manual. From where you were standing, you could see the light brown cover of the book and the cursive lettering that was strewn across the cover. He seemed deep in thought as his eyes slimed page after page. Even with the loud distractions of the coffee shop, nothing drew his attention away from the words in front of him.

Over the past few weeks you had noticed that if he did order a pastry, it was always one with fruit. Never something savoury, and never something too sweet. He often ordered a strawberry bagel with butter, but occasionally he would try the week’s special. You guessed that he liked this week’s, judging by the fact that he was nibbling on his second one as he flicked the page of his book.

Usually, the mysterious stranger left around noon, only sometimes staying for a few minutes extra. This time, however, it was well past two and he was still in his seat. After he finished his latte, he ordered a strawberry lemonade that he had yet to finish. Maybe he wasn’t planning on leaving for a while.

The bell chimed above the door as another customer walked out. You began wiping off the tables, still occasionally sneaking a glance at the handsome man in the corner. The rag ran across the table smoothly, leaving small wet streaks in its wake. Once it was dry, you moved along to the next table, repeating the process like you had many times before.

You returned behind the counter just as your coworker untied their apron. She offered you a friendly smile as she moved to collect her belongings. With a quick glance at the clock, you realized that her shift ended five minutes ago. A sigh escaped you at the sight of the empty room. Now it was just you and the handsome stranger.

A few minutes of comfortable silence filled the shop, only interrupted by the grinding of the coffee machine and the sound of the man flipping pages.

You busied yourself with cleaning the cappuccino machine. You began humming along quietly with the soft music flowing through the shop. As you ran the cloth over the smooth metal of the machine, you began to space out. Everything became distant background noise as you cleaned out the coffee grounds.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind you had you startling in your spot.

You turned to find the handsome man from before standing in front of you with a nervous grin on his face. Offering him a shy smile, you dropped the cloth on the counter and smoothed your apron out. “How can I help you?”

The man sucked in a short breath as he straightened his shoulders. “Hi,” He started. You smiled softly at his obvious nerves. Subconsciously, you found yourself fiddling with your rings under the counter. Maybe you were more nervous than you thought. “My name’s Bradley.”

You smiled. The name suited him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bradley.” You introduced yourself afterwards.

The man, who you now knew as Bradley, smiled at your words. “That’s a beautiful name,” You blushed. It may have been a cliché, but you enjoyed it all the same. “I was hoping,” He grinned, preparing for the cheesiness of his words. “That you would let me buy you a cup of coffee sometime.”

You watched the way his mustache twitched as he ran a hand through his light brown curls. “I would love that, Bradley,” You noticed that he had collected all of his belongings from his table. He must have to leave. “I get off at 5.”

Bradley stretched a hand out when you asked for it, quickly scrawling your number on the back of his hand. “See you in a bit.” One final smile was exchanged between the two of you as Bradley began walking toward the door.

The bell chimed above it as he stepped into the warm California sun. A quick glance at your watch had you smiling giddily. Only an hour and a half until you saw him again. Needless to say, you couldn’t wait for an opportunity to get to know the handsome stranger. Although hopefully, he wouldn’t be much of a stranger by the end of the night.

a/n: I hope you all enjoyed! This is my first time writing an au so feel free to send in any feedback or tips! Requests are open.

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @t0kyoreveng3rs @there-goes-thefighter @blueoorchid @dreamgirl3300 @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @genius2050 @ice-doc-val @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @natt-67 @angelbabyange

Join my taglist!

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Being Ace's Best Friend Headcanons

* Ace gives off camp counselor vibes, tbh. He'd be so much fun to travel with, especially hiking and camping or exploring a new town! First of all, when camping, he has all the stories you could want! Funny stories, action packed ones, scary ones. He can do shadow puppets! He'll take a bite right out of your snacks though so watch out for that.

* constantly dares you to do stuff like tarzan swing across a river or touch a wild animal. He's all like, "cmon it'll be fun!" He is Luffy's brother after all.

* Shows you how to find different constellations and navigate using the north star ✨🥺

* Asks your opinion during missions and takes is seriously, even if your younger or newer to the crew, he hears you out. "Which path do you think we should take?" "Do you think we can take them?" He wants you to have a voice.

* You two balance each other out. I imagine you probably have a sarcastic and dry sense of humor that contrasts Ace's sincerity and he thinks your hilarious.

* If you get injured he. will. carry. you. on. his. back. if. need. be.

* Best way to describe Ace as a friend-- he's the sort of friend who will split an oreo and give you the cream side 🥺

* Late at night if your awake and find him you sneak into the kitchen (or the fire pit if your camped out) and make late night ramen and theorize about aliens and stuff.

Being Sanji's Best Friend Headcanons

* Seeing as all the straw hats have jobs on the ship I imagine your the "chores/cleaning person" of the ship so you often help Sanji wash dishes and go on grocery trips with him. What does this mean? It means you've played would you rather so much that you've asked every possible question. Grocery trips are a lot of fun though and Sanji tells you a lot about different fish and fruits, etc.

* Sanji gives great advice and he does not get enough credit for it. Personal advice? Great. Dietary advice? Great. Fashion advice? Also great.

* But in all seriousness, Sanji is a great listener. He's not really judgmental either, he's super open minded.

* His secret talent is that he can wrangle trapped soda cans from vending machines. He makes you promise not to tell Luffy.

* He's secretly your biggest cheerleader?? When you become stronger or accomplish a goal or defeat someone he's so proud of you?? But he normally just plays it cool and says smth like "nice one" or pats your head if your younger than him.

* Sanji uses you as his guinea pig for testing new recipes. You love eating tasty food though, so win win.

* You guys definitely play chopsticks when your bored. Sanji just gives off that vibe.

* I can't stop imagining the reader gifting Sanji a Polaroid camera at some point and Sanji then becoming that mom friend who photographs all the straw hats moments? I bet he even keeps them in a notebook? Or am I just projecting?

Hi! Oh my goodness, these are amazing! I'll be working on the headcanons for the characters your requested later today. Awesome thoughts, they all feel so in character!

[ghastlybirdie]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x gn!reader

Warnings: None really, Gaz being a playful menace maybe, incorrect military titles/workings, not proofread

2.7k words

Despite it being the end of a workday you and your little office department are left with a cruel trick on Halloween in the form of a massive load of paperwork from one of your superiors. Someone comes along and throws a wrench into your evening.

“One, two, someone’s coming for you! Three, four, better lock your door! Five, six get a crucifix! Seven, eight, better stay up late! Nine, ten-”

“Shut it, ya nitwits! Ya don’t even have the bloody song right!”

The door to your office did little to muffle the drunken cacophony of off-key singing of the Halloween party going on outside your tiny little office. Despite your best efforts and warnings, someone had been able to sneak a bottle of liquor into the party and dump its contents into some of the fruit punch; something about the ‘blood’ needing a bit ‘something extra’. It was a good thing you carried extra bottles of water or else you’d be forced to quench your thirst with something less than savory.

It wasn’t a large party, just mainly your department seeing as the small bunch of you were all left behind to finish some loose ends left by some overly lax superiors. Most of the department consisted of civilians with normal office worker who saw nothing more than a faulty fax machine and angry office managers every few weeks; nothing compared to the combat ready sergeants and corporals that used the small communications department as a respite from their training or running away from someone’s ire. Lacking any authoritative power, you never did much to stop any of the soldiers, seeing as you’d do the same if you ever heard some of the instructors yell the way they do at their men and women.

A staff sergeant, one you’ve seen a hundred times yet never were introduced a name to, came to you and your co-worker with an arm’s full of files and flash drives; something about last minute contracts coming in and a PMC group finishing a mission only hours before. It’s Friday, and they wanted it all done before the weekend but seeing as they had a… ‘very important meeting’, the staff sergeant volunteered the department to get it done. By that point, most were already packing in their lunch packs and bags, so the added work was anything but appreciated.

You had been staring at the spreadsheet on your monitor screen for possibly five minutes, eyes only blinking when they were near painfully dry, before you straightened out each limb in a stretch and drawn out groan.

You’re tired. You were tired before you even entered the office. Usually you could muster a structured smile if you brought along a cup of coffee or perhaps ate a meal gentle enough on your stomach, but you missed both alarms despite you being awake far before the first set off. Perhaps it was a bad idea to keep scrolling through videos in the warmth of your blankets.

The chatter outside only grew louder as the hours went on, most coworkers stopping their data entry only an hour into it, the rest shortly following suit. Many have given you partially completed files, one of them even giving you a single cell entered into his spreadsheet before unceremoniously giving up. So, here you are. Picking up the pieces of half-assed work that was never yours while the others brought in takeout and booze to ease their tired bones and fill their empty stomachs. Must be nice.

In your lax state you easily slipped into a dreamlike state, eyes ever so slowly closing while your body slumped further into the worn out office chair, the most comfort you’ve had all day. You were so relaxed your brain couldn’t focus back in fast enough when the door to your office carefully swung open, the bright yellow lights outside of your dimly lit office shadowing the face that peered in, a gentle voice calling out to you, jolting your whole body in a fright.

“Pardon me-” The voice spoke just loud enough to rise over the Halloween music and hollering, an embarrassed chuckle following your fright. “My bad, I didn’t know if I got the right room.”

“No, no… Come in.” You straightened yourself up again, smoothing out your shirt and fixing the leaning tower of manila files that flooded your desk.

A man stepped through your door, a blue cap on and visibly dirt dusted tactical gear still on his well built body stepped into your lamplight, a folder in hand. If you were being honest with yourself, you couldn’t deny how ethereal he looked with how his built framed was lit from behind you, the yellow light from your lamp giving only his torso a golden cast. His face was mostly obscured by his cap but his nervous smile of clear to you.

“Apologies. I was told to drop these off here.” The gentleman approached your desk in few, even steps, the folder stretched out to you.

It could have been the late hours of the evening or exhaustion reaching into your consciousness, but by the way your mouth hung open and your gaze lingered a little too long, you were nonetheless captivated by the gentle nature of this man’s smile. Your hand had instinctively reached for the manila folder, your eyes tiredly lingering on your guest’s features. He had scars, scratches and indentations that formed memories on his skin, though none of them hindered the soft lines of his jaw or cheekbones, the scruff of his beard lending maturity to his youthful skin, all to help frame his eyes that looked into yours. He was quite handsome, to say the least.

“Ah… Are you well?”

You felt a dial up noise in the hind parts of your brain, thoughts beginning to whirl again when he broke the silence. You snapped the gripped folder away, using it to partially cover your face in reflex, embarrassment burning on your cheeks. “Sorry! Sorry... I’m- a bit of a ways away from here, I think…”

He offered a snicker, smile only growing wider towards you. “It’s alright! Just making sure you’re still ticking in there. Seems like you’re working a bit of that overtime. Was scared I lost ya there.”

You could only offer a pained smirk, a sigh unconsciously leaving you. It seems he understood everything wrong in that one emote, shifting feet and letting out a sigh himself, almost as if to help relieve the tension that was building both in the room and with the party outside. “You have a lot to finish, then?”

You glanced over at the files that rested suspiciously on the edge of your desk, space being minimal on your work area even before you were handed the tall stack. “Yeah… I should be done by-” you flipped through them haphazardly, a few off the top sliding off and to the floor. You just sighed and left them there. “Christmas, perhaps.”

The gentleman chewed his lip, humming a note before picking up the spilled files. “With breaks I hope?” He questioned, which left you only with a half-hearted chuckle, your head lulling to the side in exhaustion just thinking about the work.

Thumbing the recent file open you glance over it in passing as your guest straightened out the pile of folders. “Sergeant Garrick?” You asked, glancing up at the gentleman. He nodded and offered a proper introduction to himself. Sergeant Kyle Garrick, a member of task force 141 with Captain Price.

“Most just call me Gaz, though. Much more friendly that way.” He shined his teeth in his grin, arms beginning to fill with an overabundance of files as he shifted the weight.

“What are you doing, Sergeant Garrick?” Piquing your attention and sitting straight up now, you watched as Gaz hiked the files as far up in his arms as he could manage while also peeking around the tower itself.

“Tidying up! Can’t get on with the merry and gay if you’re buried in paperwork.” He called out to you, already making his way to your office door with caution.

You stood from your chair and barely cleared your hips from the desks when you went to grab a part of the stack of files, the spontaneity of Gaz’s actions waking up your mind, finally. “No, no, no! These stay in here, I haven’t finished any of these yet!” He pushed the door open with his foot and knee, huffing at the struggle of nudging you away with his hip and propping the door open. “Sergeant Garrick!”

“Ah ah ah! Sorry love but these aren’t yours anyhow. Just returning them to their rightful owner.” He pushed past you with force, though only enough to knock you off of your path and stumbling you back. It shocked you just how unabashedly he changed demeanor and took the lead to whatever plan he had mustered.

“Sergeant Garrick!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice to him, calling out.

“Gaz!” He simply called back playfully.

You blinked after him, stunned, gawking at the way he hurried past the bodies of drunk partying coworkers. Seeing the sergeant the workers cheered out in praise, clapping as Gaz shuffled out of the department room. “Shred ‘em!” “Toss ‘em in the bin!” “Get those bloody things out of here!” Amongst other profanities towards the files Gaz carried.

Hearing the demise of all your hard work and the looming threat of your superiors shouting down at you, you picked up your pace to chase Gaz down, attempting to save yourself from the dread of being reprimanded for other’s actions. “Sergeant Garrick!” No response. “Sergeant! Sergeant Gar- Gaz!” You shouted again.

He slowed down, already making it to the elevator that was at the end of the hall. “Yes~” He elongated his words, a smug smirk on his lips.

“Could you please set those files down? I’m not entirely privy to the idea of being yelled at for your… Mishandling.” You did your best to glare at him, but your eyes were too tired and your shoulders slumped in defeat hours ago, making you look more like a pleading beggar. “Please?”

Gaz thought for a short moment, the mischief still in his eyes when the elevator doors slid open. “Hm… No.” And he stepped in, pressing a button inside. Your feet were moving to join him in that same second.

“What do you mean ‘no’? What are you even doing?”

“Taking these back. I see no reason for you to do all this work. It’s Friday! It’s Halloween, aren’t we meant to go knockin’ on doors and getting’ some sweets?” He grinned at you, waiting for the elevator to stop moving and open its doors, wide steps leaving you behind when you hesitated to follow.

“That’s for children, you know! I am not that! I have a job to do, sergeant Garrick, and you’re hindering it with your… Whatever this is- shenanigans!” You huffed at him, trying to widen your stride to keep up. “I have to get this finished, I don’t have all night.”

Gaz stopped all too suddenly, a grunt leaving you when you knocked into his back, stammering back when he snapped himself around. He gave you a moment to regain your composure, and wasted not a second more. “Gaz. And no. You don’t have all night and a night like tonight is much more suited for bars or costume parties. Besides, you also don’t look like-” he picked up a file from the sack, flipping it open and scanning it over. “Staff Sergeant Nicolas Wilkers.” He smiled at you and slapped the file back at the top of the pile.

You tried to explain, correct even, and speak up for yourself when he went back to his full speed as if he’s rushing to catch something. You hardly had a chance to form a sentence before he continued. “If that isn’t you, which it isn’t since you’re not even enlisted, then it’s not your problem. I don’t see why you should have to sort all these out on your own- Especially when everyone else has gone and jumped ship. Quite a crude lot, aren’t they?”

Gaz stopped in front of a door, vinyl lettering spelling ‘Nicolas Wilkers – Staff Sergeant’ on the frosted glass. Gaz wiggled the door knob when it didn’t turn, a curse slipping out under his breath when it wouldn’t budge. Wordlessly he crouched to the floor, dropping the stacks of folders onto the ground and unceremoniously shoved the folders underneath the door two or even three at a time, the sound of flapping pages and folders colliding being muffled on the other side.

“Gaz!” You watched in horror as he quickly shoved the large tower of folders shamelessly underneath the door, Gaz looking unbothered and even amused. To be honest, in the back of your exhausted mind and aching bum, you could care less about those folders once he started, the trek down sapping the last of your energy.

It only took a handful of minutes for Gaz to successfully push all the folders through the small crack underneath, standing up, dusting off his hands and pushing his fists to his hips in a triumphant huff. “There. Out of sight, out of mind, yeah?” He turned to you, where you just starred at him with a fatigued gaze. “What? I already told you, it’s not your work to worry about. We’re just returning to sender, hm?” His smile returned, two firm pats landing on your shoulder as he returned to the elevator.

“And where are you going now?” You exhaled the words, heavy with defeat.

“Going back up to Communications. We can’t forget your stuff, now can we?” He smirked, pressing a button. The doors started to close as the fried wires in your brain connected, a startled yelp escaping you when you realized what he said.

“No! You did enough already, I don’t need you messing with my stuff, too!” You shoved your hand in the way of the closing doors, though Gaz already had a propped hand up and in the way when you finally moved.

“I’m not messing with anything, love, I’m just getting your stuff. We’re going off to a bar; there’s one that has a little costume party goings on ‘bout a short distance away from base. Shouldn’t be too bad.”

Gaz looked content as you gawked at his idea, looking around the moving elevator as if searching for a hidden camera or other. Unfortunately for you and your exhaustion, there were none and you were left with the reality of Gaz speeding off the elevator and making a bee line to your office door.

You halfheartedly jogged after him, giving up when you saw the Communications staff were gathering their coats and belongings, tossing out their mess of bottles and crumbled papers into the bin. Some passed you saying good tidings, others patting your back in congratulations and ‘Good riddance of those blasted papers.”

Gaz had your coat and bag in arms when you weaved past your coworkers, closing your door and smiling at you when you stood face to face with him, partially shocked by your body’s automation to meeting with the sergeant.

There was a bubbling of something in your gut, something that left you a bit breathless and irate, something akin to anger.

But then Gaz smiled his gentle smile, looking right into your eyes with a level of sureness and ease that left that bubbling turn into butterflies for just a brief moment, your train of scrambled thoughts hitting a wall with a single word brimming with confidence.

“Ready?”

You blinked, one then twice then thrice, before exhaling fully. You didn’t know you were holding so much weight in your shoulders just then, the festering feeling leading to a moment of just breathing in the air. It smelled like a soft, powdery scent that one might get with a day’s long wear of cologne. It was lovely, how you missed it this whole time confused you more than Gaz’s insistent need to wedge himself into your workday.

Thanks to him, though, it seems that your work day has ended. Someone shut off half the lights to the department just then, nudging your focus back to the man in front of you. Turning around you saw someone wave to you both, calling you two to hurry up before disappearing into the hall. Leaving you with little else to fight for, you shrugged and relaxed your body with a sigh, reaching for your coat in Gaz arms.

“Ready.”

[apoptoses]

1980 New York City 1:38 am

“Daniel, what is this?” Armand asked.

Daniel closed the magazine he’d been looking at and put it back on the rack. He crossed the store in search of Armand.

It was hot out, one of those sticky nights when lying on the bed with the windows open just wouldn’t do. Going to the convenience store had been his idea, though Daniel didn’t really need anything. It was just an excuse to stand in the air conditioner while Armand explored. Something rattled in the vents. Air blew down fast enough to stop the bead of sweat on the back of Daniel’s neck in its tracks.

He found Armand in front of the slushie machines, hands in his pockets as he stared at the brightly colored liquid sloshing around. Armand tilted his head. A drop of cherry syrup dripped off the nozzle of one of the dispensers and fell to the tray below.

“It’s a slushie. It’s a drink, kind of,” Daniel said. “All it is is crushed ice mixed with flavor syrup. It’ll stain the shit out of your clothes if you spill it though, my mom used to get after me for that all the time when I was a kid.”

Armand cocked his head. “And what flavor is ‘blue raspberry’? Raspberries aren’t blue.”

Daniel huffed out a laugh. Armand could be so literal sometimes.

“I don’t know, something some executive made up to sell blue syrup. It tastes like blue cotton candy,” Daniel said with a shrug.

Armand furrowed his brow as he looked at him. Right. He probably had never had cotton candy either, being five hundred years old and all. He had no frame of reference for any of this stuff.

Sometimes he acted so normal Daniel forgot exactly what he was. When he was full of blood he was as ruddy cheeked as any young man, even under the harsh lights of the convenience store. It wasn’t until he opened his mouth that Daniel was reminded that he was standing at a slushie machine with a dead and unnatural thing.

He grabbed a styrofoam cup from the counter and handed it to Armand. “Here, get one and I’ll drink it. You can spy on the flavor through my brain or whatever vulcan mind meld shit it is that you do.”

Armand wrapped his fingers around the lever on the machine so carefully. He looked so intense. Like pouring a slushie was a delicate operation. Sometimes he handled things with such care, but then others-

Daniel’s hand went to the hickie low on his neck, barely hidden by the collar of his shirt. The bruise was terrible. The edges of it were almost the same blue as the ice coming out of the machine. If he pressed down on it he could still feel the ache, the searing pain of Armand’s fangs buried in his skin. He shuddered at the memory.

“Are you cold now, Daniel? You’re shivering,” Armand said as he plucked a lid from the stack beside the machine.

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”

Armand grinned at him and stabbed a straw into the drink. Daniel couldn’t help but grin back.

At the register he let Armand request a pack of cigarettes for him and then handed him his own wallet to let him pay like a little kid. On their way out the door Armand took his hand.

They walked the two blocks back to their building like that; hands clasped, Armand’s rings pressing into the space between his fingers. When they sat down on the front steps of their building Daniel held their hands up. Turned them from side to side and watched Armand’s rings glitter under the hazy glow of the light from the windows around them. His fingers were so pale. His palm was so dry, a sharp contrast to Daniel’s which had begun to sweat in the humidity.

“In my time we had a drink, brought over from the Middle East and called sharbat,” Armand said suddenly. “It was made from fruit syrups. Cherry and pomegranate and lemon. I was told that in some places it was consumed frozen but I never experienced it myself. In Venice there’s no way to build the cellars required to store ice.”

Daniel brushed his thumb back and forth over the back of Armand’s hand. Sipped at his slushie and tried to digest the information he’d just been given.

It was so rare that Armand talked about his youth. It always came in fits and starts, at the most unexpected times. Daniel could press him for hours on what it was like to live in renaissance Venice and get no answer, and then he’d put on a certain shirt or they’d see a particular film and off Armand would go with some fact that made his head spin.

“Do you miss being able to eat and drink things?” Daniel asked.

Armand blinked at him slowly. Like he had to process the question just as Daniel had to process his sudden story. He remained quiet.

A car rattled down the street. Somewhere above them someone cracked a window and the sounds of the program they were watching on tv filtered out. Daniel shifted on the steps and felt the concrete dig into the bare skin at the back of his thigh.

“In a way. I don’t miss the necessity of it,” Armand finally said. “I only regret that there’s such a variety of food and drink available now and I can’t experience any of it firsthand.”

“And tasting it through my mind isn’t exactly the same, I’d imagine.”

Armand nodded. “Yes. A pale reflection of the thing you’re experiencing, that’s all that it is.”

Daniel took another drink of the slushie. Let the syrup linger in his mouth before he swallowed and wondered if he ate more slowly if Armand would experience it more clearly. More intensely. The idea of never being able to taste anything but blood, ever again- it was hard to imagine. Armand preached the drawbacks of immortality to him every time he pleaded for it, but this was the first time any of it had ever sunk in.

He thought about his morning coffee. Popcorn at the movies. A bar of chocolate. All things Armand had never really tasted. Never really would.

Daniel licked his lips and sloshed the drink around its cup. Suddenly Armand reached out and grabbed him by the jaw. Pressed his fingers into his cheeks and made him open his mouth.

“Your mouth is blue,” Armand said.

His face was so serious. Daniel laughed when he let go.

“I told you, this shit stains everything,” he said. “Do you think it would stain your skin too? Nothing ever seems to stick to you for long.”

Armand pursed his lips as he considered the question. “I don’t know.”

Well. Only one way to find out.

Daniel took a long drink and set the cup down on the steps. He turned to Armand.

His auburn hair didn’t seem to be affected by the humidity at all. Not like Daniel’s, which was damp with sweat and clinging to the back of his neck. He reached over and tucked a curl behind Armand’s ear. Brushed his fingers over his cheek and watched his lashes, so full and dark, flutter against his cheek when he closed his eyes. For a moment Daniel could only sit there, palm on Armand’s face as he glanced between the pink flush of his cheeks and the soft shape of his mouth.

Daniel brushed the tip of his nose against Armand’s. Rubbed it back and forth, just sharing breathing space with him. He smiled to himself when Armand tipped his chin up in silent demand. Waited a second until he made a huffy sound and then closed the distance between their lips.

Warm. That was all Daniel could think about when Armand parted his lips and let him lick into his mouth. He was so warm tonight, so alive.

He felt the weight of Armand’s hand on his chest. It was warm too, even through his t-shirt, resting on his sternum right above his racing heart. When he grabbed Armand by the knees and dragged his legs across his lap he felt his fingers twist in the fabric. Armand’s nails, just sharp and dangerous enough to be felt through his shirt as he clung to Daniel and let himself be kissed.

Daniel sucked at his lower lip, worried at it between his teeth. Released it and then let out a quiet sound when Armand did the same back to him. His lips would be flushed and swollen after this. He’d bear the evidence of Armand’s kiss for the rest of the night. The thought made him shudder.

Somewhere in the city an ambulance siren wailed. The door to their building opened, the old hinges on it squeaking their protest.

Daniel ignored the other resident trying to get out. There was plenty of room on the stairs for them to get by. And besides, Armand was tracing over the roof of his mouth with his tongue in that way that always made him melt. There was no way he was going to stop this just to be polite and let someone get past.

He wrapped his arms around Armand and pulled him closer. Broke away to nose at his cheek, tease him until Armand yanked at his shirt and dragged him back in. Daniel didn’t even try to resist. He just angled his face just right and kissed him again.

Sometimes Armand could be so normal. Sometimes he was just the young man Daniel was crazy about. The sweet boyfriend who let Daniel make out with him on a hot and sticky night, out on the front steps where all of New York could see.

When they stopped to press their foreheads together Daniel’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his own ears. For a moment he couldn’t even open his eyes. He had to sit there until he caught his breath.

In the yellow glow of the streetlight Armand looked so alive. His mouth was stained. It was blue from the syrup. Flushed red from Daniel’s kiss.

“Your lips are blue,” Daniel said. His hand was on Armand’s cheek, thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth. “Could you taste the slushie any better that way?”

Armand shook his head. He ducked in and kissed Daniel again.

“No, Daniel. All I could taste was you.”

[asp1990]

Day 7: Monday January 6th, 2025 [Tokyo]

Breakfast: konbini coffee & a hash brown

Lunch: Okonomiyaki from the Shrine market

Dinner: fried & chicken haha

Steps: 10,818

Today is our last day in Tokyo! We didn’t really have plans for the day and left it open to re-visit any areas that we’d enjoyed or visit anywhere we’d discovered last minute.

We decided to re-visit the Meiji Jingu temple as it was chockas on New Year’s Day. We got the train to Yoyogi Station and walked through the gardens to the main shrine entrance. There was still a substantial queue and it had started to rain lightly, but we wanted to persevere. We queued for about an hour before getting to the actual shrine where we tossed our coins and showed our respects. The crowds here were more disciplined than the one we’d been to in Asakusa and the ritual of praying seemed more prevalent. Afterwards we got our second goishin and I bought an amulet for Gran. The goishin was beautiful and it was nice to see it being drawn in front of us instead of handing our books over. The rain was getting heavier so we visited the souvenir shop and purchase two umbrellas. We stopped at the food market stalls to eat lunch and both ordered okonomiyaki (veg pancakes). It was freezing! Luckily I’d brought my electronic hand warmers with me.

We walked back towards the city and planned to explore Harajuku. We didn’t see any Harajuku girls but we did stop at Uniqlo (again) so Morgan could buy a scarf (he lost his the other day) and I could get a pair of socks. I’d worn ankle socks with my sneakers and they kept sliding down - it was driving me nuts! I bought a pair of Heat Tech socks and will definitely be going back to buy more. Very snug.

Next we walked down Takeshita Street (lol) which was absolutely bustling with souvenir shops, arcades and Gashapon machines. We didn’t a few laps of the gashapon balls to see if we wanted any. I bought a super Mario one but Morgan couldn’t find any he liked. The rain was getting heavier and with a 1:1 ratio of umbrellas and people, it was getting difficult to walk around. I got some more money from the ATM (very cash-heavy economy here) and we decided to head home for a wee-while. The brollies we’d purchased fit in our bags but it meant they were very small and weren’t quite combatting the weather to our liking.

Back at our apartment we finished watching Squid Game S2 and enjoyed being snug and dry. It was still bucketing down at 6pm when we started looking to go out for dinner so we just had to grin and bear it. I’d found a cool bar in my research called THESE and it was in our area so we walked for 20 minutes… in the freezing rain… hoping that we wouldn’t need to queue. By the time we arrived I couldn’t feel my face, but the venue was empty bar one other couple, so we got the whole upstairs to ourselves! Score! The design of the bar revolved around the waiter bringing you a fake fruit bowl and you choosing two ingredients so they could make a cocktail to your liking. We had two rounds of cocktails at ¥2300 per drink. Morgan chose pineapple & chilli for round 1 and mango & egg white for round 2. I chose strawberry & mint for round 1 and mango & pineapple for round 2. All four drinks were divine. Morgan’s pineapple/chilli one had a weird flavour but he really enjoyed it. Whilst enjoying the vibe and the drinks, we played backgammon that we’d found on the shelf next to us and ordered some fries and fried chicken. We were planning to go out for gyoza but the weather was so awful and we were enjoying the bar so much that we decided to stay.

We left at 9pm with our bill sitting at ¥15800. A bit expensive, but definitely worth it. We got an ¥800 taxi back to our hotel because of the rain and then packed our bags. We are going to trial the luggage delivery service tomorrow - the hotel transports your luggage to your next hotel for you so you don’t have to lug them around the subway (or theme parks). We are going to take our backpacks and a carry-on suitcase to Disney with a spare pair of clothes and our toiletries and hope that the rest rocks up! This is very common practice in Japan, so I’m feeling hopeful, but will be keeping an eye on my AirTag just in case hehe.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

While I am still thinking about DT and vampire stuff, my mind drifted to werewolves (because of course), and I remembered I do technically have fics where Ten and Lucian interact and are dating, and then I thought of... this.

Warning: absolutely ridiculous commentary from Ten based on something David talked about at a con when filming Tooth and Claw

Takes place while Lucian and his pack have control over the castle, so before all the shit with Kraven and Lucian faking his death.

On with the fic!

--

"Did you know," The Doctor said as he peeled a banana he had just pulled out of the inside pocket of his duster, "that I've met a werewolf once?"

"I wouldn't be surprised, you tend to usually land your strange box machine in their territory. Please stop doing that, it makes them more aggressive because the sounds frighten them." Lucian huffed, before putting hot metal into water, steam erupting immediately.

"Ah, yeah, true. But not those werewolves!" The Doctor grinned and bit into his treat. "A 'iffer'n kin'!" He said, his mouth full of fruit.

Lucian removed the metal from the water and set it aside, the Doctor realizing it was a horseshoe. He wondered if Lucian would let him use his sonic to attach to a horse, he had always wanted to use that setting, never got the chance yet.

"What do you mean?" Lucian asked, removing his gloves.

"Well," the Doctor swallowed, "when me and Rose, you know her, told you all about her, yes?"

"Yes, you have."

"Right, well, me and her were trying to travel to the 1970s, I think it was the 1970s, anyway. I miscalculated and sent us back to the 1800s! Wild, eh? Well, there, we ran into the lady herself, Queen Victoria! She'll be queen of the United Kingdom in a few centuries. So, we ran into her in Scotland, lovely place, do visit one day, and we decided to go with her to a manor."

So, as he sat on a seat in Lucian's blacksmith station, the Doctor told the lycan about the events of his time with Queen Victoria. He talked about the strange guards who turned out to be dangerous monks, set to handle and deal with a caged man.

Lucian wasn't exactly thrilled about a wolfman being locked in a cage, but understood that for safety reasons, it was necessary. The Doctor also spoke about the telescope, excited about explaining why that was important later.

But then he got to the part about the transformation he had witnessed. "It was... it was brilliant, in a way! I had never seen anything like it before, ah, just... just gorgeous, you know? Though, I personally like yours better."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome!" The Doctor beamed. "Anyway, the lad escaped the cage once he changed into a wolf, and... well... I hate to say this, but this boy, was a boy, mind. Like, I know movies and artwork try to avoid it, but he was..."

The Doctor felt warm, and not just from the fire that Lucian was throwing a few dry logs into. He coughed, tugging at his collar.

Lucian glanced at him, tilting his head. "He was what, Doctor?"

"Ah, well... I mean, it's quite rude to point things out, especially for someone who is naked, and really, I didn't mean to look, but he was certainly, uhh..."

The lycan chuckled and shook his head. "Was he very well endowed, Doctor? Is that what you're trying to get at?"

"I didn't mean to look!" The Doctor exclaimed, wringing the banana peel in his hands, looking at some of the finished metal works rather than at the amused man before him. "We were being chased and I kept wanting to get a good look, but my eyes kept seeing- and then there's what happened later, and it's just...! I mean, it was so bright and yet you could still-!"

Lucian was laughing louder now and the Doctor tossed the banana peel at him.

"ANYWAY!" He loudly announced. "We got chased into a library and it turns out that was the right idea cause the room was protected-!" He tried to continue his story, but Lucian was still smiling as he worked and it made it hard to concentrate.

He probably shouldn't have brought this up, him and his big gob.

--

I'm sorry, but I will never get over David and how impressed he was about the guy doing the motion capture for the werewolf and how the suit he wore left NOTHING to the imagination. David is just in total awe over it, and it's like, why are you telling a room full of people this???

Also, the horseshoe thing is just a silly reference to one of the Big Finish stories and how Ten got very excited about using that setting. The man is a dork.

[levil0vesyou]

Oh hey, I realised I can just ask for advice!

(Note: This is (mostly) not ebegging (nothing wrong with ebegging, just wanna be clear) even if it may sound that way in the first section. Please keep reading. It's pretty long tho, sorry. I'll put it under a cut as I am planning to pin it but please, please read it, especially if we're mutuals. Reblogs are welcome, especially within the german blogosphere, but don't feel obligated.)

So as some of you know, my flatmate has locked me out of the kitchen because I didn't have money for groceries and thus kept eating his food. This includes the electric kettle, microwave and most cutlery but I did accidentally keep a spoon that I still have now. (I have a small bottle of dish soap so yes, I can reuse it as I do still have bathroom access.)

I have since received my first unemployment payment which, due to my previous (necessary) overconsumption is mostly gone again now. I have 20€ and change (cash so paypal and my other debtors can't seize it) left for the rest of the month (new unemployment payment should arrive on the 1st) but I'm struggling to make it stretch.

I've been trying to search up advice on this but couldn't find anything useful. If you have links or anything, that'd be awesome. Here's the key points:

I live in Germany so subject to the German costs of living. Because I also can't afford public transport fare, my store choice is pretty much limited to a small-ish Rewe nearby. There's also a Mäc Geiz and a pharmacy but ofc those aren't grocery stores.

I do not have food allergies but I am a vegetarian and unless I'm literally dying, this situation will not change that.

As mentioned I have no access to a kettle, a microwave, a stove, a fridge or any of that. I do have access to my popcorn machine (many years of trusty service, real mvp) but that's it. I have access to a spoon and a sharp knife. Not a chef's knife tho. I do not have access to spices.

My mental health is still very bad, I cannot leave the house some days and I don't think I'd be able to do anything elaborate. Thus, whatever I eat has to be easily (or not at all) prepared but not easily perishable.

At this point, my standards are very low. My current main thing is eating unheated canned food but I'm prepared to eat basically anything I can stomach (excluding meat, as mentioned) in any way that is possible for me. I'm eating unseasoned chickpeas out of a jar right now. They're actually pretty good. I also (under normal circumstances) sometimes eat dry pasta for funsies so that might give you an idea.

I eat a lot. Less at the moment but still above average. I need plenty of carbs or I will still be hungry after. Essentially, pretend I'm feeding two people here.

I keep craving salt. I'm usually decent at telling what foods my body needs by cravings so I've been eating many crisps since I no longer have a spice cabinet. But they're 'spensive. I've also been craving eggs but I have no way to indulge since afaik boiled eggs are only sold around Easter. Also fruit juice but I can eat some vitamin gummies I still have instead, that'll probably be fine.

As stated, the budget is 20€ for 1½ weeks. I do have a bit of food already, some Zwieback, a pack of Leibniz cookies, a small jar of applesauce, a (hopefully not too spicy) can of chili sin carne, stuff like that. Also some hardtack I made months ago and just now remembered, but not a lot of it and I have no way to soak it, tho I might be able to clean an empty can.

While I'm not hoping to inflict permanent damage on my body, I am willing to take a few more risks than I usually would. That said, I can barely handle one or two short grocery trips a week so foraging isn't a good option at the moment. Also, laundry situation is difficult rn so avoiding diarrhea would be awesome 👍

While I am unemployed and legally homeless (I just haven't left yet) I have no documentation for this at the moment. I mention this because some food banks and similar require such documentation. Also, again, I have a very low travel range rn (like... 200m. 500 on a good day) but if you know like some kind of... delivery food bank?? that exists in Bavaria (dm me for the city) that would be incredible.

No, I can't get a job. I literally just tried that (again) and have reached a personal new low as a result. There were some in-between steps (like that fucking clinic) but yea, that's not an option. No, not even home office. No, not even freelance.

This one might seem entitled but. I cannot keep eating the same thing. I do have my samefoods (tho I cannot cook pasta rn for obvious reasons) but especially lately, eating the same thing for more than two or three days in a row has been low key driving me insane. Might be because I've been mostly cut off from society for months, might be because my body is sick of it, who knows. But I need variety. Same thing twice a week is fine, but more than that is pushing it. I'm very sorry.

As stated, this is not an ebegging post and I want nobody to feel any kind of obligation but if we're mutuals and you have a German bank account (or Schengen and are willing to pay the fee) and you desperately want to, you may dm me about it. But you do not have to!!! And I literally only say this because I know what it feels like to be on the other end of this. No, paypal is not an option, I'm triple digits in the red there. Water droplet on a hot stone etc.

What I am looking for is advice, especially from people who have dealt with severe financial issues and/or homelessness/kitchenlessness before. I've been kitchenless before but I had a fridge, microwave and somewhat reasonable money then so it didn't really prepare me. You can either comment or reblog directly or you can dm me or send me an ask. Anon is enabled.

Either way, thank you so much for taking the time to read all this! I love you, may you have a good day <3