#all i have to do is ask someone how her project is going and then i'll be good to go

[bookwormjust]

A Quiet afternoon with the IC ? (established relationship with Cassian, caring for Nyx, child always listening to the little voice in their head)

The late afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of the House of Wind, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. The Inner Circle had gathered for a casual afternoon together, the room filled with laughter and conversation as everyone enjoyed the rare peace. Feyre was perched on the couch beside Rhys, her eyes soft as she watched their son, Nyx, toddling around with you.

You were seated on the floor, your long, curly hair tumbling down your back as you helped Nyx with a little craft project. He was fascinated by the small pieces of paper you had folded for him, making them ready for him to use like a pretend chisel. Cassian, who sat nearby with a fond smile on his face, was watching the scene unfold, his love for you evident in the soft glow of his hazel eyes.

Nyx was a bundle of energy, his tiny hands grabbing at the paper with excitement. You laughed softly, explaining how to use the paper pieces while his bright, wide eyes stayed locked on your long hair as it cascaded down your back. He was a curious child, always reaching for things and exploring the world around him.

For just a second, your attention slipped away as Mor leaned in to speak with you, something about the latest gossip in Velaris catching your ear. You turned to her, your focus on her story, and in that brief moment, Nyx, with his little hands and even smaller scissors, snipped a strand of your long hair before anyone could stop him.

A collective gasp echoed through the room as a few loose curls tumbled down onto the floor. Nyx’s eyes went wide as he realized what he’d done, and you could feel the weight of the silence that fell over the group. Everyone froze, Feyre’s eyes widening in shock as she prepared to scold her son, but before she could say anything, you glanced down at the strand of hair, then at Nyx’s face—his expression a mix of confusion and guilt.

Cassian, sitting nearby, stiffened, his jaw dropping slightly in disbelief. He loved your long hair—he always said it was one of his favorite things about you. But before anyone could react further, you did something unexpected.

You smiled.

“It’s okay,” you said gently, picking up the scissors from Nyx’s tiny hands, your tone light and calm. “Nyx, do you want to keep cutting?”

Everyone stared at you, wide-eyed, as you handed the scissors back to the little boy with a warm smile. Cassian’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as you leaned forward, offering your hair to Nyx again. "Go ahead," you encouraged softly. “Just like before.”

Nyx hesitated for a moment, unsure, but at your gentle nod, he snipped again, and then again. Slowly, more curls fell to the floor, and soon, your once long, luscious hair was now uneven and much shorter.

The tension in the room was thick, but you remained calm, determined to turn this into a learning moment. As Nyx’s small hands dropped the scissors, he looked up at you with wide, apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, clearly realizing what he had done.

You smiled warmly at him, picking him up and pulling him into your arms. "Thank you, Nyx," you said softly, ruffling his dark hair as you spoke. "You did a great job! You’d make an amazing hairdresser one day. But," you continued, your tone shifting to a more serious but still gentle one, "it’s really important to ask first before you cut someone’s hair, okay? You have to make sure they’re okay with it. It’s not kind to do it without asking, even if you're trying to help or have fun."

Nyx’s little face scrunched up in thought, his lips pouting as he processed what you were saying. “I understand,” he said, his voice small and sincere. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

You hugged him tightly, pressing a kiss to his head. "It’s okay, little one. We all make mistakes. And look," you said, pulling back and giving him a playful grin, "I look pretty cool now, right? Do you think I’m still beautiful?”

Nyx’s face lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "You’re always beautiful!" he said with the earnestness only a child could have.

Your heart warmed, and you pressed another kiss to his head before setting him down. He toddled back over to Feyre, who gave you a grateful, relieved smile.

Cassian, however, looked utterly devastated. His mouth was still slightly open, his eyes flicking between you and the pile of your hair on the floor. "Your hair," he mumbled, almost whining. "Your long, beautiful hair... it's gone."

You chuckled softly and walked over to him, your uneven haircut bouncing with each step. Cassian reached out to pull you into his lap, his large hands immediately threading through the shortened strands. "I can’t believe you let him cut it," he muttered, his brows furrowed. "Now my hair is longer than yours."

You laughed, running your hand through his longer locks playfully. "I’ll grow it back," you reassured him, leaning into his chest. "But Nyx learned something today. And besides," you teased, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye, "I think I still look good, right?"

Cassian’s eyes softened as he gazed down at you, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "You always look good," he murmured, brushing a thumb along your jawline. “Even with this short hair. But... I might miss the old length.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. "I’ll grow it back," you promised again, your voice full of warmth.

Rhysand, who had been watching the entire situation unfold with a smirk, shook his head. "You handled that beautifully," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "Much better than I would have."

Feyre laughed softly, relieved that the tension had broken, and Nyx, now back in her lap, looked at you with nothing but adoration. "Thank you for being so patient with him," she added, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "I think we’ll stick to paper crafts from now on."

As the conversation resumed, the weight of the moment lifted, and the warmth and laughter returned to the room. Cassian’s arms remained securely around you, his chin resting on top of your head as he mumbled something about how he would never let you near scissors again.

But even with your new, uneven haircut, you felt nothing but love and contentment. You had turned a chaotic moment into something positive, and more importantly, Nyx had learned a valuable lesson—and Cassian would just have to live with your short hair for a while.

And judging by the way he kept kissing your temple, it wasn’t so bad after all.

[onceuponapuffin]

Because I'm in a sharing mood and have some extra time:

I've put this in a few other places, so if you see it floating around elsewhere it's me. As far as I know, I'm the only one with this headcanon.

After the Job debacle, Jemima keeps trying to summon Crawley. Not intentionally, and not by way of hellish ritual or anything. She just keeps praying to God for "that funny demon" to come back and play with her.

Crawley can feel it. At first he laughs it off, but after a while it gets annoying. So one day he goes back to Job's place to tell Jemima to stop doing that to tell her that she can't be doing that. He means to tell her off, really. But she ends up showing him all of her new pottery projects. By the time she eventually ends up plaiting his hair he makes up his mind to tell her...

When Sitis comes in, wondering who Jemima is talking to. She sees Crawley, recognizes him.

"Ah Bildad the Shuhite, how lovely to see you again. You're staying for dinner of course." Then she leaves, presumably to get dinner going. Crawley is left speechless, mouth open, no words, not given a choice.

At the dinner table, he feels out of place. Ennon and Kesiah keep looking at him funny, and once or twice they try to ask questions, but Sitis shushes them. After they eat, Crawley is given an open invitation to join them again next week. He says no.

Sitis sets him a place anyway.

He shows up.

Each dinner he's given another invitation. Each time he declines. Each time Sitis sets him a place anyway. Each time he shows up anyway. It's almost like she's known his type before. The type who are prickly on the outside, but sweet on the inside and just wanting someone who is willing to hold them regardless of the thorns. The only other person ever to do that has been Aziraphale, and Someone Knows where he is these days.

Next thing he knows, Crawley has actually become Bildad the Shuhite: Family Friend. He is around regularly, and even Ennon and Kesiah don't mind him so much, although they still roll their eyes at him whenever they think they can get away with it.

He tells Jemima his real name ONCE. While the two of them are alone, playing Tea Party with her dolls.

She mishears "Crawley" as "Crowley."

He keeps it.

[sturniolosiphone]

introducing...morose!reader and pinning!matt

divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

In which morose!reader and pining!matt are best friends. Inseparable. They're there for each other..whether it's morning coffee, running an errand, or a night on the couch. There's connection, safety, and desire..they can feel it; they can tase it...

morose: sullen and ill-tempered.

⋆.˚morose!reader can come off as a little bitter, a little detached to strangers who aren’t in her inner circle. She finds small talk hard, and she simply does not have the energy to make new friends. 

⋆.˚morose!reader will disappear for days at a time. She is usually hidden in her room, racking up screen time on her phone or attempting to read the book she restarted four times. Her room is her safe space, filled with trinkets, clothes, and vinyls. 

⋆.˚morose!reader took "My Year of Rest and Relaxation" too literally.

⋆.˚morose!reader can watch movies for hours a day and constantly log them into letterboxd. She also loves the movie theater and often calls it her church. She allows herself to break down in the worn-down theater chair as her feet stick to the flooring covered in diet soda.

⋆.˚morose!reader is always saying she could do more, be more. She can’t feel fulfillment in any career path, any passion project…anything. She will come off confident and unnerving, but as soon as that bedroom door closes, she stares at herself in the mirror until she is unrecognizable. 

⋆.˚morose!reader is constantly changing her appearance. Cutting her hair, bleaching her eyebrows, small tattoos, and piercings. She is always trying to find herself, and understand why she is the way she is. 

⋆.˚morose!reader who knows Matt would be good for her but she just...

pining: suffering with or expressing longing or yearning for someone or something.

⋆.˚pining!matt, who is captivated by morose. He had been in love with her since the first time he saw her at that weird basement party, where they both decided to leave together and go to McDonald’s because the vibes were just off. He’s at her beck and call and is willing to do whatever to make her happy and satisfy her. 

⋆.˚pining!matt is soft and loving. He may come off as a little standoffish, but that is only because he is shy. 

⋆.˚pining!matt, who keeps his journal in his back pocket. He holds a list of all of morose's favorite things. What to order her at restaurants, how she likes her coffee, things that make her happy, and things that make her angry or upset. 

⋆.˚pining!matt is always lost in thought. He is having conversations in his head and lingering on other people's words. He keeps quiet most of the time, absorbing information and taking things in. 

⋆.˚pining!matt hates all of that “new age” shit but owns every Apple product. He refuses to use Apple CarPlay in his car and will only listen to CDs. He hates the internet and tries to keep off social media as much as possible. If he posts anything on social media, it's either morose or his album reviews that get five likes. 

⋆.˚pining!matt who prays one day morose will break, finally let him in completely and let him show her what it feels like to finally let go.

[A/N: this is my first AU! I have been absolutely taken by other writer's AU's and I love how free and creative you can be. I'd love to write for this AU if it is received well!! Please feel free to send in asks about morose!reader and pining!matt]

[sugarushwriting]

don’t blame me — part 2

PLEASE READ PART ONE FIRST!!!!!

master list here

jay x reader

tw: stalking, cnc, intoxication

adult content, read at your own discretion

on my dom jay kick • not proof read

“imagine waking up to a chick just sitting on your dick.”

jay spat out his beer, his other friends looking at jake like he done lost his damn mind.

heeseung and sunghoon couldn’t believe what came out of jake’s mouth.

jay could, but he wasn’t prepared for jake to just flat out say something like that at this time.

“dude, what made you think of that?” heeseung looked at the boy highly confused—and concerned.

jake shrugged, “well, we were talking about kinks, weren’t we?”

“i mean, yeah,” sunghoon scratched the back of his head looking between heeseung and jay.

“oh come on!” jake exclaimed. “don’t tell me you never thought about it or even heard about it?”

“isn’t that like, consensual, non consensual stuff?” jay asked for clarification.

jake nodded snapping his finger. “yes! like somnophilia! very taboo, but extremely hot.” jake bit his lip just thinking about it.

“how do you even know that?” heeseung asked.

jake smirked. “it was a girl who introduced me to it. wanted some extreme shit.”

“like?” sunghoon asked.

“she asked me to pretend to stalk her, break into her house and fuck her.”

all the other three boys looked confused, but they were intrigued.

“girls like that?” heeseung crossed his arms not believing it.

“of course not all. only some. but i highly recommend trying it out.” jake leaned back in his seat at the table him and his friends sat at.

“how do we even go about asking a girl about that?” sunghoon was baffled.

“that i don’t have the answers to. all i recommend is slowly bring up some kinks with the girl. i told the girl i was pretty open to trying new things and she asked me about that.”

you overhead this entire conversation between jay and his friends. they hadn’t even noticed you, specifically jay. he was so consumed by the conversation with his friends, he hadn’t even noticed you walk in and sit in the booth behind him.

thankfully the booth seats were high up, separated by colored glass, and the boys were close to drunk if not already there, they hadn’t realized their volume of the conversation.

you were the only one close by, so thankfully you were the only one to hear what they were talking about.

the only one to hear what your man was potentially interested in.

you knew jay’s tone, and his tone he talked to his friend jake about meant he was interested. intrigued.

“too bad i don’t know a girl who may be interested.” jay sighed, emptying his beer bottle.

me! you so badly wanted to yell. but you stayed silent with a smile. well if that’s what jay wanted, jay would get. you’d do anything for him. your man.

if he wanted to be stalked. check. you’ve done that. well. you wouldn’t necessarily call it stalking, just watching over your man who hasn’t claimed you yet.

if he wanted someone to break into his house. check. you’ve easily broke into, gained access to his apartment.

now, he wants you to sexually please him? you’ve been waiting for this day.

but—what if he wants to do the stalking, breaking in, and sexually pleasuring you?

you thought about it and realized jay is too shy for that. he’s only confident now with the alcohol. poor boy would blush like crazy and probably cry if you brought it up.

you took out your phone to text him.

you: hey jay! we still on for our project tonight? xo

you had not planned on meeting tonight, but jay wouldn’t remember that and he wouldn’t check.

you heard a buzz from behind you. on the other side, jay focused hard on opening and reading his message.

“shit.” he whispered.

“what is it?” jake asked sipping his own drink

“mhm, forgot me and my partner had to work on our project.” jay groaned.

“oh, that cute girl from your abnormal psych class?” heeseung teased.

jay nodded. “yes that girl.”

jay texted back.

jay: im sop sorru i forgt and drnk w friends

you covered your mouth to hide a giggle. he was very wasted. you bit your lower lip, thinking of a plan.

you: are you ok? do you need help getting home?

jay giggled. “she asked if i needed help getting home.” jay did need some assistance getting home. he could easily take a cab, but he may not make it to his doorstep in a timely manner.

“take her up on it! i want to see what she looks like in person!” heeseung said.

your face felt hot. mhm, jay talks to his friends about you? you wiggled in your seat in excitement.

you: forget it, where are you? i’m coming to help. share your location.

jay did just that, not even realizing you already knew where he was.

you exited out a different door to make your way back into the front door of the bar. you internally groaned for not dressing better than jeans and a hoodie, but you didn’t want to go all out just in case jay noticed you prior.

“she’s coming.” jay laughed.

“mhm, maybe ask her?” jake smirked.

“no way!” jay hiccuped. “she would probably think im some kind of pervert!”

“you are a pervert.” sunghoon teased and all laughed.

about five minutes later you acted as if you just arrived looking for jay.

jay’s face lit up with a smile when he saw you. “oh hey!” he waved frantically. “it’s you!” he pointed, rocking jake back and forth by his shoulders. “it’s her!”

you felt shy under all four boys wandering gaze. they didn’t care how you were dressed. you were gorgeous to them.

“hi jay.” you nodded with a bow. “ready to get home? do you remember where you live?” you asked pretending to not know.

“i can give you his address. then, maybe i can give you mine.” jake winked, with a failed flirt attempt.

jake and the others were cute, but you belonged to jay, and jay belonged to you.

you laughed nervously, “just jay’s address will be fine.” you declined politely.

heeseung and sunghoon busted out laughing. “rejected!”

“she’s my partner!” jay laughed, rocking on his feet as he swayed from standing up.

you laughed quietly. “let’s get you home, jay.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

with ease you got jay into a ride-share and on to his apartment. saying a thank you to the driver, jay used your body as leverage to help him walk up his steps.

“mhm, is it bad to have kinks?” jay asked quietly.

“no.” you answered softly with honesty. “nothing wrong, quite healthy in my opinion.”

you both made it to his front door, he giving you the key to open, and help him inside.

“couch or bed?” you asked. jay was getting a bit heavy for you.

“mhm, bed.” he smiled. you nodded and helped him to his bed were he collided face down.

“what kind of kinks do you have, jay?” you asked sitting next to him on his bed, rubbing his back.

“mhm, i dunno. jake—my friend, the one who tried to steal you from me earlier,” jay began speaking with a sigh and heavy voice, showing he was tired, “jake says he’s into the consensual non consensual stuff like fucking someone while they sleep.”

“is that what he said or what you’re interested in?” you wanted clarification.

jay though started softly snoring, and you almost didn’t hear him reply to you. “me.”

with a big smile, you kissed the back of his head and left him on his bed to leave his apartment. you made sure to leave a trashcan and a glass of water beside his bed though before leaving.

you went back home, it only being 1 am, changing into something a little more fitting for jay. matching lingerie set in his favorite color, but on top wearing comfy clothes—sweats, baby tee, no bra, hiding your chest with a hoodie for when you went back to jay’s.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

jay awoke around 3 am with cotton mouth, needing water. he woke up slightly confused how he ended up in his apartment and in his bed, but thought one of the boys helped him, forgetting about his conversations with you earlier.

he swallowed the water in 3 gulps, then getting up to pee. he hadn’t noticed you open his door (with the key you took with you). you quietly made your way to his bedroom closet to hide, seeing he was up in the bathroom.

he needed to be sleep, or at least in that sleep state for your plan to begin if he and you wanted it done right.

he came out soon later, deciding to take off his clothes he went out in earlier, opting to just sleep in sweats. nothing else.

even better for you, you thought.

in no time, jay fell asleep—perfectly on his back. you quietly stepped out of the closet, jays beauty alluring you.

he was just so handsome and perfect to you.

you carefully got on his bed, straddling him, slightly rocking your hips so your lower half rubbed against his.

his dick already slowly hardening. he wanted you, just as bad as you wanting him.

you really wanted to take this slow, but you genuinely just wanted him inside you.

“fuck!” you whispered, jays eyes still tightly closed, steady breaths.

you got off him to take off your pants, hoodie and shirt, leaving you just in your lingerie in his favorite color.

you hovered over him, deciding to just pull his pants down low enough to get his cock out. pumping it a few times, you didn’t have time to eye and admire him. instead, you’d have to admire it as it stretched you.

the few pumps quickly got him hard, jay groaning in his sleep, eyes twitching, eyebrows furrowing. he subconsciously licked his lips, turning his head to the side.

biting your lower lip, you moved your underwear to the side, and slowly lowered yourself onto jay. this time not even bothering to be quiet, you moaned out loudly, as jays length and thickness stretched you.

“jay fuck! so good.” you moaned, impaling yourself onto him impatiently.

he still hadn’t fully woken up. jay was still in dreamland, but knew this felt too real.

you lifted your hips so that his tip was in, then slammed your hips back down.

that woke him up.

“fuck!” he moaned out.

you giggled, staying still as you smiled down at him with an innocent look. “hi jay.” you fluttered your eyes.

jay looked at you with narrowed eyes, confused what was happening. why were you on top of him?

why were you just in lingerie? in his favorite color?

sitting on his dick!

“wh—what?”

“isn’t this what you wanted, jay?” you shrugged with a pout. you lifted your hips again, to slide back down achingly slow.

jay groaned lowly with a hiss, his hands immediately grabbing your hips.

he was still in a state of confusion, not believing that he was fully awake. he had to be dreaming. there’s absolutely no way you’re sitting on his dick right now.

“mhm please tell me im dreaming. i don’t want to wake up.” he sighed.

“it’s not a dream jay. it’s real.” you said, leaning down to kiss his lips softly. jays lips chased yours as you pulled away.

his thumbs traced circles on your hips, completely satisfied by you.

one thing jay knew, or at least had an idea of, was that you had to be his anonymous admirer, or shall he say stalker. things just weren’t adding up with you, and the flowers were icing on the cake.

“can i fuck you jay? please can i?” you begged, your head falling back to the pleasure of him stretching you out.

“seems like you already started. so continue on.” jay said, his hands now going to the back of his head. he nodded for you to continue.

he was out of his damn mind letting you do this and continue. but dude was horny. hadn’t been laid in months. and you felt too good.

you nodded, following his orders by beginning to slowly bounce up and down on his length, enjoying the ride and feel of him. your hands rested against his chest to steady yourself, your body at an angle to were your clit rubbed deliciously against him.

he was going to make you come within seconds.

“nasty, nasty girl. getting off stalking somebody then coming in to fuck them while they sleep?” jay taunted.

you were to far gone to even actually feel sorry. “mhm’sorry jay. you feel so good. look so good, i—ahhh—couldn’t help it.” you moaned loudly, increasing your pace, the sound of your skin slapping against jays. thighs against ass against balls and all.

jay pulled the band strap of your underwear, to where is snapped back hard against your flesh. “i want these off, now.”

you nodded tiredly, getting off jay to fully undress, jay taking his sweats off too.

“come back and ride.” jay ordered but you were too tired.

you shook your head. “so tired jay, please fuck me?”

jay laughed shaking his head. “i don’t think so.” he sat up. raising one eyebrow, jay scoffed. “unless you want me to tell people about you stalking me, breaking into my apartment, just to fuck me.”

you should be scared and nervous. and although you slightly were, jays tone and threat just turned you on more.

with a shy nod, you got back up to sit in jays lap. easing yourself back down on his length, you both let out a moan together. your hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest.

“im—sorry.” you mumbled out almost sobbing.

“no you’re not.” jay snapped. he was tired of your innocent act. his hands gripped your waist—tight, and he snapped his hips up, aiming desperately and deeply into you.

“ah!” you screamed. “jay!”

“shut up!” jay mumbled.

he flipped you quickly, you on your stomach, flat on the bed. he entered your cunt from behind, no teasing, no warning, his pace starting ruthless from the beginning.

“wanna be a fucking slut, i will make you feel like one.”

“jay!” you groaned, stuffing your face into the bed sheets.

you knew jay had a dominant side, like all shy, quiet men, but damn, you didn’t think it’d be like this.

jay was jackhammering you from behind, your ass rippling with each thrust. jay grabbed each cheek in his hand, nails digging into your flesh.

“ouch, jay.” you sobbed out. tears dripping down your cheeks from the mixed pleasure.

jay suddenly pulled out and got off you. “turn around, now.” he ordered.

you shook your head against the sheet. “no.”

“don’t test me.”

you turned your head to the side, right cheek against the cover. “i said no.” you spat. then with a devilish smirk, “you’re going to have to make me. force me.”

“fine.”

before you could even react or think, jay pulled you by your ankles to the edge of the bed, turning you over to your back. you yelped in surprise.

now on your back, butt near the edge, jay standing, he pulled your two wrists together, holding it in his left hand. then with your wrists in his hand, he used your own palms to cover your mouth, holding them there.

your thighs and legs were squeezed together, slightly held against your chest as jay leaned his body weight against you.

jays eyes were darken than usual you had noticed. his face flushed, eyebrows knotted in focus.

jay smiled before his dick forcefully entered you with so much power, that you screamed in pleasure. well, as much as you could since he forced you to cover your own mouth.

your head and eyes rolled back. from then on, ruthless thrusts once again. balls against your ass. sounds of your wet cunt covering jays dick.

your wetness drooling onto the floor, between you and jay. your stomach tightening with each powerful thrust.

jays free hand came to grab one of your breasts, squeezing as hard as possible.

“look at your slickness covering me.” jay looked down between your bodies, pleasantly disgusted of the sight.

there was no need for jay to add pressure to your clit to stimulate or get you closer to your orgasm. you were close.

“maybe next time i should be the one to break into your apartment and fuck you while you sleep. huh? bet a nasty slut like you would love that.”

you shouldn’t, but you did.

“pussy throbbing, ready to come?” jay asked and you nodded. “good girl, cause im gonna come too.”

you tried your best to move your palms away from your mouth, “pull out, jay!” you mumbled.

at first you don’t think jay heard you as he kept thrusting with no intention of pulling out. but he did. he heard you, as he smiled.

“jay, not on birth control.” you again mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

jay kept thrusting, this time sloppily, losing momentum as he came closer to his orgasm.

“like i give a fuck!” he snapped. “you started this without a condom, i will finish this without one.” jay groaned. “like the slut you are, gonna fill you up nice. gonna fill you up so you take all the come i give you. gonna get you pregnant with my child.”

it shouldn’t have turned you on, but it did. shit, you thought jay had a strong pullout game. that’s what you get for assuming.

“jay,” you sobbed as you got closer to coming but also at the idea of jay coming inside you to get you pregnant.

jay finally let go of your hands, only to grab your face in his hand, leaning down to kiss you with so much force that when he pulled away, a line of spit connected you both.

with one last loud moan from you both, jay stilled inside you as he came, you coming as well. jay let out a string of curses and growls as he filled you up.

he finally pulled out a few seconds later, a bit of his come leaking out of you. he was breathing heavily, you the same. both of your bodies a sweaty mess, hair clinging to your scalp and foreheads.

you tried to roll over to stretch out your legs, crawling up further up the bed. jay soon joined you on the bed and laid beside you.

you on your side looking at him, him on his back facing the ceiling.

you swallowed, panic flooding you, “jay, i’m really not on birth control” you whispered.

jay chuckled. “i’ll buy you plan b, no worries.” he sat up and looked at you. “rather not get the woman who is stalking me pregnant with my child.” he smiled, and got up from the bed.

he pulled you up by your arms startling you.

“what?” you asked confused.

“what, you expect me to only go one round when you snuck in my apartment wearing my favorite color?” jay joked. “let’s go to the shower. i can’t wait to fuck you in there.”

[1moreff-creator]

What are some dynamics (in terms of like, foils/parallels) that you enjoy in DRDT?

you’re staring at a forest and asking me for every tree i like. do you want me to write another 28k word post /lh

I jest, of course, but not about the number of interesting foils in this series. It does a fantastic job tying everyone into several key themes in ways that make their dynamics endlessly enriching for my silly little character parallel-loving brain. So, uh, get ready for a long-ish post?

CW: One mention of self-harm, self-loathing

Teruko-David: I mean, you gotta start at the center, yeah? David’s the closest thing to a “main antag” we have, and it’s no wonder; the guy’s built like a standard DR protag, obviously he’s gonna have a cool dynamic with the actual protagonist. 

These two could breathe a bit weird and somehow parallel each other doing it, that’s how much this foil permeates both their characters. From their fatalistic outlooks on the world (“my luck will always be terrible, I’ll always be betrayed” vs “people can’t change, the world sucks”), the ways they hide their feelings (Teruko was more distrustful than she first presented herself as, but cares about people more than she shows during most of CH2; while David has an entire different persona up to 2-11 and then pretends to be worse than he actually is), the self-loathing (Teruko refuses to think she could be a good person, David has the whole “inhuman” thing going on), down to the oddball sibling figure (Terubro “I know nothing about you” Tawaki vs Diana “I’m not even sure you exist” Chiem).

There’s their feelings about Xander and Min, too, which are all over the place. Obviously we all saw in 2-12 how much the British twink fucked both of them up severely, with Teruko rejecting any positive or yearning feelings she may have had about Xander (you can’t hide the cactus scene from us girl) while David vehemently defended him from any criticism. On the other side, Min is less of a narrative poltergeist (for now; XF-Ture exists), but she still comes up with them, with David calling her pathetic eleven episodes after Min hugs Teruko and Teruko’s internal monologue gives away how much she cares about the Student. 

And these parallels play into their weird-ass dynamic very well, because their beefing is founded on their similarities and their differences, out of projecting their self-loathing to someone similar at the same time they hate each other because of their disagreements on things like Xander. Crazy stuff.

Xander-Min: Mentioning these two second because they’re also Eternal Parallels. There’s almost not a single thing about these two that isn’t somehow reflected on the other. If you projected them onto each other’s direction, you would get no perpendicular component. Get it, ‘cuz they’re completely parallel- That is, by far, the nerdiest joke I’ve ever made, I apologize.

But come on. Their attitudes towards fate (the Rebel fighting it and Min resigning herself to the XF-Ture thing), the whole “holding on to the past vs wanting to move on from the past” thing, the similarities between how they actually feel about the education system (they have issues with it) contrasted with the things they actually do in respects to that (Min is still the Ultimate Student, but Xander dislikes that), their already mentioned contrasting connections to Teruko and David… Just, absolutely everything about them is a meaningful contrast. And it comes into play a lot, with their eternal beef being born largely out of these parallels. They’re awesome.

Teruko-Ace: Pretty topical for post-CH2. Ace’s entire arc is sort of a reflection of Teruko’s, yet taken to the extreme because of one particular point of contrast; Ace feared death, Teruko doesn’t think she can die. But he still basically serves as a demonstration of all the flaws in Teruko’s all mindset; the feeling of unchangeable fate, the complete lack of trust, all the good stuff. It basically allows an exploration of Teruko’s mindset from an outside perspective, which makes it easier to see the flaws in it.

Ace-Nico: Also topical, these recap foils go kinda insane. Their motives for murder, their contrasting talents (love for animals on Nico's side and fear of horses on Ace's), the way they relate to the rest of the cast, Ace's persecution complex vs Nico actively disliking how much Hu defends them, etc., it’s all very fun to see play out. 

Ace-Levi: The one who doesn’t care but protects others and tries his best to be a good person so he can be accepted in society without having issues, vs the guy that acts like an asshole because he’s scared of caring too much and he thinks the only way he can get out alive is by being the only one to survive. This leads to a fundamental misunderstanding between them that causes some of the most doomed yaoi of all time, which is the whole “Levi getting frustrated at not understanding Ace.” 

Arei-David: You’ve presumably watched 2-13, so I don’t think I need to explain all the awesome stuff that’s come from their shared themes of “good people” and self-betterment and all that. Not to mention, David’s little breakdown over Arei trusting the letter of the only friend she had being presumably born from the way he saw Xander as the only friend he had. Shit goes crazy.

Arei-Eden: Recap foils… Good people… The choice to be kind… Etc… Woah :O

Teruko-Charles: Ah, Teru’s recap foil. This one’s basically opposite of Ace’s, where Charles used to be sort of like Teruko acted in CH2, but later became a bit friendlier, if still somewhat prickly. Basically, if Ace highlights Teruko’s character traits from CH2, Charles post CH1 serves as more or less the “end goal” in a way. It goes beyond that, too, with the whole memory issues (prosopagnosia vs childhood amnesia) and, again, mysterious siblings (Terubro and Elliot what are your deals), so it’s always neat to rotate these two in the brain.

Veronika-Levi: We really don’t know too much about Vero, which always makes it a bit harder when analyzing these dynamics, but they already got some interesting points of contrast. Neither of them are particularly concerned about the deaths of the others, at least post-CH2 (Levi doesn’t grieve and Vero actively laughs at Ace’s death), but it comes from almost opposite ends of perspective. Levi doesn’t understand others because he doesn’t feel much empathy (if any at all), while Vero seems to treat the others not as people, but almost as characters to be analyzed (that’s the impression I get, at least), which makes her come off as very good at reading people but also occasionally causes her to see them as sources of entertainment first and foremost. Not to mention there’s also the fact they’re both very different people than they were in the past (Levi was some form of delinquent and now is a good person, Vero used to be outdoorsy and then no longer was). Wow that’s… more than I thought there was- How am I finding more interesting foils just by writing more???

Hu-Levi: I kinda talked about this in my CH2 PT2 analysis so read that ig.

J-Rose: A pair of recap foils who haven’t had too much yet, but a lot of their themes, in particular about fate and privilege and stuff, are pretty noticeable with them, so this is always a fun dynamic to consider.

Levi-Arturo: More recap foils, this one’s fun because of the dead family member :) Also things like their talents being related to aesthetics and both doing the things they do for a better life.

Veronika-Hu: This one’s kinda more hypothetical, since Vero in particular hasn’t had as much direct focus as other characters yet, but that’s part of what makes them fun. Past history of self-harm (even if brought on by very different feelings) is just the first of many parallels they could have, and it’s fun to see the contrast between Hu defending Nico to the ends of the Earth and Vero talking about how much she likes Arturo because of how awful he is. They’re really silly.

David-Whit: All the recap foils are fun, but I've always struggled to see this one in particular. Partly because I feel like I know less about Whit than I know about Mai :v Still, certain things like Whit ignoring anything that upsets him which connects to David constantly lying about his real feelings for his fans, which is probably what leads to David's outburst at Whit in the second trial.

Teruko-MonoTV: Because fate. Really this is here plainly because it’s just a funny as hell dynamic to even consider lol.

Teruko-Mai: Have they interacted? Has Mai had enough screen time to truly determine that this parallel truly exists? Do we even know a single theme that Mai’s character touches on for certain? No and it doesn’t matter! Because these two are clearly connected somehow and the whole “someone dearly loved - someone dearly unloved” thing makes me ill. Mai is getting mentioned in this post and you're not stopping it.

Mai-Whit: Fuck it! “We tend to idolize the dead” dynamic!!! It's very speculative, but this one’s just fun to ponder even if we have even less idea of what could be going on between the two than with Mai-Teruko.

Anyways ready for a few themes that run through a lot of characters?

David-Levi-Nico-Rose: The “feeling disconnected from the rest of humanity’s experiences” gang!!!

Min-Rose-Hu-Veronika-Arturo: The “wants to move on from the past” gang!!!

Min-Arei-Teruko-Ace: The “trying to fix mistakes” gang!!!

Teruko-David-Eden-Arei-Levi-Xander: The “what makes a good person?” gang!!!

Teruko-David-Xander-Min-J-Whit-Ace-Rose-MonoTV-Probably everyone else: Fate!!!!

And there’s more than I’m probably forgetting because I can’t possibly check every conceivable connection between these guys. At least I hope I covered most of the major ones. Thanks for the ask, these dynamics are always fun to think about!

[gemsofthegalaxy]

i'm so sorry but people being like "Vi asking Cait not to change and then she immediately becomes a dictator" like that's the thing, Cait was never at a point where she'd really interrogated her relationship to the Undercity and her privilege enough for this to be that far out of left field. Her mother died and she said to Jayce she understood hatred of the whole Undercity population, called people animals for attacking during a memorial (unbeknownst to her, orchestrated by people 'on her side').

Vi, meanwhile, has seen no less than 3 parents die, not to mention countless others. She's lost her sister which she blames herself for (despite telling herself she isn't doing that anymore) and she still holds so much love in her heart. I don't quite understand how she reconciles using chemical warfare of the grey to try and smoke Jinx out (haha) other than the fact that she's desperate, still, to try and resolve things with her sister even if it means taking her out (which she still is unable to do). She just wants things to be okay with the least amount of damage, and to right what she feels are her wrongs.

And although Vi does clearly go along with using the Grey, Caitlyn has much greater access to cold detachment to the folks of the Undercity because she never quite got around to seeing them as full people in the first place. A pet project, perhaps, to try and save them when that was a undeniable and easy good. As soon as it becomes complicated, and people there are hurtful and have teeth and are not perfect flawless victims, it's so easy to shuck the desire to "help" the poor folks of the Undercity- in fact, now she finds it quite easy to hate them all instead.

Caitlyn didn't change, not in a notable way, she leaned in further to her birthright, which is one of upper class privilege and doing whatever she pleases.

(ps, I don't hate her. I think she's an incredibly compelling and interesting character. But I do not believe she is a good person and she's been teetering towards that since the second s2e1 dropped. I think she would have to do a lot more work than just falling in love with someone who happens to be from the Undercity to really interrogate her place in this world and commit to understanding the structural changes that are needed in Piltover for that)

[floret-affini-research]

RESEARCH LOG 018

RESEARCHER M. Arum

AUDIO FILE DETECTED, LOADING TRANSCRIPT...

"Aaand bam! That's how you get the recorder active on this thing."

"Woaaaa, that's so cool! How'd you even get this thingy? It seems really old."

"Back on the vessel I was joining for a short time, there was a collection of older technology, pieces that were considered too broken or obsolete for anything other than scrap. I was able to put this one back together, so they let me keep it for this research project."

"Oooooo, so you're really pretty and hot and smart and good with your hands?~"

"S-stop trying to fluster me like that. In any case, it will be beneficial for you to keep all this information in mind. It may be needed if I am to become ill again."

"Hehehehehe, I wouldn't exactly say you got ill, just really really happy~"

"Ugh, please do not remind me."

"You mean about how you were really really loud and kept asking Mistress to say that magic word to make you feel all good and tingly? What was it again?~"

"I swear Marianna, if you were not the only company I can have at the moment I would tell you to leave my presence."

"Hehehehehe, I know you don't really mean that, otherwise you'd be all huffy instead of all red and silly."

"Th-that is besides the point. In any case, I am going to end the recording. Terminate au-"

"Oh oh! Can I say it this time?"

"Huh? I guess so, yeah"

"Hehehe, ok ok, but first~"

"Huh-!"

...

"Y-y-y-y-ou can't just kiss me like that outta nowhere! Ugh, now I've got saliva all over my chin."

"Hehehehe, but it's so much fun, isn't it? Especially since Mistress gave me a special little biomod for kisses~"

"Wh-what are you... talking... about..?"

"Mayyyybe just a little bit of a cocktail of your favorites~"

"Because you trust me far too much~"

"D-dammit Marianna... how did I let my guard dow-"

...

"St-stars, that is... strong... how'd I let my... guard down so much for you?"

"C-clearly I do indeed."

"Hehehe, want me to say your favorite word?~ I know the urge is burning inside you by now~"

"F-frost... I-I can't... focus... too cloudy"

"Don't you just want to let go?~ Don't you just want me to say it?~"

"I... swear I'm... gonna get you back... for this..."

...

"Y-you keep... making my head fuzzyyy"

"...unmake m-me... please... I don't want to... think anymore~"

"Well, you'll only get to have revenge after, so you may as well submit for now~ So, beg for it~"

...

"Hehehehe, such a good doll~ Now then...

FALL

Oh roots your so cute like this~ Just completely at my mercy to do with as I please~ But I know someone who'll love to see it even more~ Oh Mistress!~"

Yes my darling little Floret? Oh! It appears that you two are greatly enjoying each other's company~

"We really are Mistress, but I think this dolly is feeling kinda shy~ Can you give her a voice? I really really would love it~"

Oh my, a truly splendid idea my darling, it would be wonderful to hear this doll sing~

"I'm a good doll, I do as I'm told. I don't need to think. I want to be played with."

"Hehehehe, seems like she's enjoy this a looot~"

Oh very much so~ Would you like for me to let you play with your doll all on your own for now?~

"Yes please Mistress, I wanna see what fun new things I can make her do like this~"

Very well then, but if you over do it, then I may have to have two cute dolls on my mantle~

"Y-yes Mistress, I'll make sure to be careful, I promise!"

Very good, have fun my sweet little things~

"Hehehe, you hear that? I get to have all kinds of fun with you alllll to myself~ So, what does this cute dolly want me to do?~"

"Use me however you see fit. Dolls don't think. Dolls cannot choose. I'm a good doll."

"You really are the greatest dolly~ But I don't think I want you knowing just what I'll do with you~ Terminate audio recording~"

[carnivalls]

good morning. thinking again of juve and her dog

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: April 23

"Lion's Den" by Jhameel

[starphobe]

fh fandom back to wishing death on a fictional teenager for being mentally ill and not learning how to cope with that in a healthy way. what else is new

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[toomuchdickfort]

I should be allowed as a tiefling to make obvious comments to wyll like ‘woag ur sharper than I am, cool’ and have him be like. I mean. I did. come about it by different means yes. Alas, I’ll just imagine t’evye staying the obvious to his companions and the just sorta blinking to try and figure out if she’s wanting to hear their thoughts or really only just noticing it

[exopelagic]

I love my degree I love my department I love my uni

[rxmxa]

𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐮𝐩 ❤️‍🔥

my ideas + observations on what lilith aspects might look like in daily life <3

Lilith-Sun Aspects: Getting noticed right away by people especially when a group setting, being liked by people on the surface level but secretly they disapprove or frown at your actions when you turn around, men judging you, standing your ground at all costs, not knowing when to back down, being a natural leader, challenging societal norms with who you are and forms of self expression, walking into a meeting or class wearing a bold outfit and peoples heads turning but not a word is uttered, getting dress-coded at work or school, your boss or teachers feeling uncomfortable to say something to you, people feeling like you are being "messy" when you question the norms, not addressing rumors. knowing you're gonn stir things up when you are walking into rooms and not caring, being told to change, being told you're too much, men wanting to date you but then wishing you would be "easy to work with" or wanting to date you and then get mad when they can't dominate you, you thinking "what don't they fucking understand? I just don't want to be like them" being afraid of your individuality not being recognized that you go to extremes at some moments

Lilith-Moon aspects: the type of people to actually answer with the truth when you ask them how they're doing and then you're kind of shook because you thought they were gonna sugarcoat and be like "I'm fine" being painfully honest or blunt, talking about feelings considered taboo (like no one really likes to talk about how they are jealous or bitter or other shit like that, they just hide it or project it) but lilith-moon will say they're feeling that shit. this reminds of the song wildflower by billie eilish. this aspect is women talking shit about you, having trauma with you, women in your life judging you or pointing fingers at you for not falling into the "good girl" category. being told you're wrong for how you feel, feeling intense or moody and other people being able to pick up on it, other people seeing you as magnetic but also unpredictable and they can admire you for being real with them but it also might scare them, mom saying you are a wild child or just too much to deal with when you get "emotional", you wanting to yell "no im not fucking okay and im not gonna sit here and pretend I am"

Lilith-Venus aspects: men want you and see being with you as a challenge, they want to be with you to show off but then get mad when they cant change you, being called a "tease" or saying that you lead people on, men lying about you, spreading rumors about you, men saying they "talked to you" or dated you after texting you LMAOOO.. just fucking lying! being villanized for your beauty, your beauty feeling like its making you a target, women seeing you as competition, women spreading rumors about your beauty (oh she probably got this and this done or oh she shes only pretty because xyz), men in relationships looking at you and thinking you are manipulating them when you're not doing anything, feeling like anything venus related (beauty, art, relationships) in your life gets distorted, your relationships always feeling like a battlefield, being sensual + in tune with your femininity and then people expect you to tone it down, you might do something like wear red lipstick or heels or a nice dress and be told its too much but someone without this energy in their chart probs wouldnt get that reaction, you wondering "what's the difference between me and her? Why do they treat her like that and me like this?"

Lilith-Mercury aspects: being blunt, hurting someones feelings without meaning to, getting criticized for whatever you say, trying to be more "polite" but then it feels so exhausting, cursing a lot, cursing from a very young age and/or in professional settings, saying what other people refuse to say for the sake of being polite or because its a "superior" this is the person that in the meeting will the supervisor "In my opinion, this isnt a good idea and it isnt helpful to us", people talking shit behind your back, the person who dissects other peoples words down to the stutter, punctuation and fucking COMMA! How did they say it? What word did they say first? lilith-mercury will read between the lines and force you to say what you are refusing to say or putting in a passive aggressive manner, might refuse to engage with passive agressive people until they say it with their chest, "could you repeat that?" energy, "what did you mean by that?" energy knowing damn well what they meant, talking about politics at the dinner table during the family reunion, talking about sex in the break room at work, playing the devils advocate, reading smut, writing smut, loving dirty talk. trying to use their words for something good but people always making them feel like everything they say is just always wrong, pausing before they strike with their tongue, hating small talk, feeling uncomfy with small talk, people trauma dumping or ovesharing or vice versa, feeling suspcious of people that use pretty words with them, they wonder "What do they want from me? They're trying to get something from me...."

Lilith-Mars aspects: the first to get to moving and get shit down, getting easily annoyed at people that dont have the same drive, being angry at weak people or people that cant keep their word, "Are you gonna help or just fucking stand there?", being seen as abrassive, people avoiding you or shrinking back because of it, men wanting to compete with you, people feeling threatened by your ambition, the type to get nice things in life and people spread rumors that you had to xyz to get it, people thinking you're being confrontational or too angry when you address something face to face and up front, feeling out of control with your anger as a kid, people trying to push your buttons to try to get a reaction of you and then acting shocked when they do, fiercely independent in their routines, working out intensely, craving intensity in relationships, lines blurring between love and war "If I'm going to be the bad guy might as well get something out of it"

Lilith-Saturn aspects: a major dislike of authoritative figures, feeling resentful at being told what to do, wanting to do the opposite of what you do, "im not following this rule just because its always been followed", setting your own standards and expectations, "I prefer to find out for myself", questioning the system or cultural and societal norms and traditions that you find antiquated or unfair, people respecting you for your disciple but wishing you were easier to boss around, other people saying you're too cold or detached but you just dont wanna give them the chance to fuck you over, finding peace in the space between order and chaos and you perfecting that mix, wondering if life would be easier if you were "softer", choosing to form your own opinions on people, "thanks but I can decide for myself", feeling like you're held to expectations other people aren't

Lilith-Pluto aspects: not afraid to talk about the ugly shit in life, the taboo, trauma, control, power struggles, fear, jealousy because youve been familiar with it before, people being a little afraid of you, people saying youre too intense or even dangerous, people projecting onto you and getting mad or "disgusted" with you when you see right through them, being able to pick up on changes in peoples mannerisms, digging deeper in conversations, people suddenly confessing things to you, people not understanding why they feel drawn to your presence, people either approach it or go in the other direction, you come across as someone who has been through a lot but its only made you stronger, "im not afraid of the dark parts of life", going through something traumatic and years later thinking about it and coming to realization that you wouldn't change a thing, that it made you who you are, being okay with being seen as the villian in someones story

[choerrypuffs]

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.” 

[fading-event-608]

Hello! I see people here are talking about Gaza again. 

I’m not one to vaguepost, nor do I usually spend time arguing with zionists and liberals online, but the amount of “pro-Palestine” liberals I’ve seen in the last day saying that Gazans “deserve genocide” because Trump won…

I’m not surprised to hear that democrats are mad at third-party voters. It’s true that even if all swing third-party votes went to Kamala she’d still have lost, but reality isn’t important to these people. Democrats want a monopoly - of course they’re upset at everyone who isn’t voting for their party. Of course they’re more upset with communists and anarchists than they are with nazis.

None of this is new. But even though we’ve seen these patterns before, I am absolutely sick to witness these people blaming Palestinians for this. I’m sick hearing them almost gleefully wishing for Gaza to be turned into a parking lot. I’m sick coming across individualistic little diatribes about how they’re “done” boycotting, “done” helping others.

Is it Palestinians’ fault that Kamala’s campaign was so poorly run?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the US is now so full of nazis that the Democrats lost the popular vote for the first time since 2004, by 5 million votes?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the US supplies and supports Israel in their annihilation of Gaza and other occupied Palestinian territories, as well as neighbouring countries?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the government assisting Israel’s genocidal project was, for the past four years, Biden’s administration? A Democrat’s administration? 

The crime that Palestinians have committed in the eyes of these liberals is the crime of existing where said liberals can see them - namely, on social media. The unofficial charges: not being silent, resisting, asking for help from the people best equipped to give money for their survival. So again, I’ll ask - is it the fault of Palestinians that the people best equipped to help them are those in the imperial core? That the people Palestinians must go to for help are people benefitting from both this genocide and the genocides the empires that house them are built on?

Of course the gravest offence is interrupting the liberal supply of white noise. Comfort is, after all, the biggest priority in liberalism - silence and denial is self care. Murder by proxy is the most popular of hobbies, and is best enjoyed with the sound off. But Palestinians are not quiet. You can see their faces now - and the identification of them as something other than faceless, or rather someone, begins to burrow through the insulation built up around you. 

You have the barest sense of how fragile your world is. You can either turn away from this, or continue your journey towards the truth. These liberals are examples of those violently turning away and taking up the slaughter again, desperate to dispel any reminders that they are not the only people on earth worthy of life.

You can literally buy an indulgence now by donating to a Palestinian fundraiser. Yes, even if you’re not a Democrat, or you’re from Europe (chances are your government supplies Israel too, or is at least complacent), or there’s any other facet of your identity that supplies nuance. This is up to all of us, no matter who we are. 

I’ve been spotlighting Falastin’s campaign to save her family in Gaza for more than two months now. I will continue to do so until they’re safe; but their safety will likely be a long time coming. This is in part because Falastin’s campaign must support 24 people, and in part because donations are slowing down - not only for Falastin, but for a lot of other fundraisers I keep an eye on. To be afraid for so many people while watching liberals angrily abandoning this cause is distressing and disheartening.

This is life or death. I don’t care who you are, and I care even less to hear if you’ve voted or who you voted for. All I ask is that you boost this post and, if you can, donate to Falastin. The Gofundme is in SEK and the rates are:

10$ = 107 SEK

25$ = 269 SEK

50$ = 538 SEK

100$ = 1,076 SEK

You can also donate via PayPal in USD: [LINK]

We also host a raffle for hand-made Palestinian thob [info HERE], and the first winner will be chosen in a bit less than 2 days. 

P. S. Yes, Falastin’s campaign has been vetted, several times across multiple platforms:

#282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [HERE], 

#957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [HERE]

Falastin's account: [LINK]