#this idea just came to me while I was doing something entirely unrelated

[chaosoftheages]

OKAY HERE ME OUT:

A Purple gets amnesia fic, but not F&S style.

So basically

He doesn't trust King

He still thinks Orchid is alive

He's still trying to seek Navy's approval

He has literally no clue who the CG is

SO HE RUNS OFF TO FIND NAVY AND ORCHID...only to learnt that Navy split town nine years ago and Orchid died eight years earlier

So while he's wandering around, questioning what the fuck he's gonna do now, he gets kidnapped by these ppl tryna make a quick buck(or some random shit like that idk)

And if we remember the necklace King got Purple, I should note that it has King's number on the back of this necklace. The kidnappers see this and are like "....Brilliant."

So King gets a random call, forgetting his number is on the back of Purple's necklace, realizes they have Purple, and is like "...SHI-"

[ts19009]

A Recipe for Us I Part 2 | KMG

pairing: kim mingyu x reader/oc genre: angst, fluff, smut, coworkers-to-lovers, mean!oc, soft!niceguy!gyu, chef's(oui oui) warnings: explicit unprotected sex, sexual innuendos, oral sex (female receiving), etc. words: 13,901 part 1: HERE!!!

Mingyu Do you wanna come over and taste a new dish I’ve been experimenting on?

Y/N Sure! Although if this is an elaborate way of killing me to get my job … XD Mingyu Please, I’m to lazy to commit murder 😛

She chuckled softly to herself, her finger hovering over the phone screen.

For the first time in a while, she felt a flutter of excitement—a soft warmth curling in her chest at the thought of seeing him, of being near him. The idea of just spending time with him without the usual tension that surrounded their work environment was... nice.

Y/N set her phone down and leaned back against the couch, exhaling a shaky breath. There was something different now. Lately, she found herself thinking about him more than usual. Not just in passing, but in moments when she was doing something entirely unrelated, a memory of a smile or a shared laugh would pop into her mind and her heart would skip a beat.

She thought about how easy it was to talk to him, how she could laugh freely with him, and how he seemed to know exactly when she needed space and when she needed someone to lean on. The way his eyes softened when he looked at her, how his presence seemed to calm her in a way no one else’s ever had.

Y/N paused, her hand gripping the edge of the couch, her breath catching.

Oh.

She was falling for him.

The realization made her stomach flip—an odd mix of excitement and fear. Was she ready for this? Was this just another passing crush, or was it something deeper? She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought, but it lingered.

It was hard to ignore it now. Every time he smiled at her, her heart raced. Every time their hands brushed, there was this electric current that made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t expected.

But now, with Mingyu’s invitation hanging in the air, the uncertainty of it all hit her full force. She couldn’t hide from it anymore—this thing she was feeling.

Sighing, she grabbed her jacket and stood up. No matter how nervous or unsure she was, she couldn’t deny that a part of her wanted to be with him. Wanted to see where this would go.

The evening air was cool as Y/N zipped up her jacket, taking one last look at her phone before slipping it into her pocket. She could feel the flutter of anticipation building in her chest as she walked through the quiet streets. Her steps were quick but deliberate, the sound of her shoes echoing against the sidewalk.

With every step, the thought of Mingyu occupied her mind more and more. What was it about him that made her feel this way? Why did she suddenly care so much about what he thought, about being near him?

She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they only grew louder. Was this how it felt to have a crush, to be falling for someone?

Before she knew it, she found herself standing in front of his apartment building. The soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the entrance, and she took a deep breath before walking inside. She hesitated at the door for a moment, then rang the bell.

Moments later, Mingyu appeared, a warm smile spreading across his face when he saw her. "Hey, welcome! I'm glad you came," he said, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N smiled back, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said, stepping inside. The scent of something savory immediately hit her senses, making her stomach rumble.

"Nah, just getting started," Mingyu replied, leading her into the kitchen. It was a cozy space, neatly organized with various ingredients spread across the counter. "I’ve been experimenting with a new recipe—garlic butter shrimp with a side of risotto. You’re in for a treat."

Y/N’s mouth watered at the mention of the dish. "Sounds amazing," she said, leaning against the counter as she watched him move around the kitchen, his hands expertly chopping vegetables and stirring the pan. There was something incredibly soothing about watching him work, the way he moved with such confidence and ease.

"You know," Mingyu said, glancing over his shoulder at her, "I was actually a little nervous about cooking for you. I mean, you’ve been around a lot of good food, and I didn’t want to mess this up."

Y/N chuckled, leaning in slightly as she watched him. "Well, I’m sure it’ll be great. I’m sure you know what you’re doing."

Mingyu smiled, his eyes lighting up with that familiar warmth. "Thanks. It’s nice to hear that from someone who actually knows food."

She felt her heart skip a beat at the way his eyes lingered on her, and she quickly turned her attention to the stove, avoiding his gaze for a moment. She could feel the warmth of his presence, the air between them thickening with an unspoken tension.

"You’re gonna have to tell me what you think once it’s done," Mingyu continued, grabbing a bottle of white wine from the counter. He poured two glasses, one of which he handed to her. "But first, how’s your day been?"

Y/N took the glass, her fingers brushing against his as she did. "It’s been good. Busy, but nothing too crazy. How about you?"

"Same," Mingyu said, taking a sip of his own wine before getting back to the food. "I’ve been thinking about this all day, to be honest. I wanted it to be perfect for you."

The sincerity in his voice made Y/N’s heart skip again. She smiled softly, setting her wine down on the counter. "I’m sure it’ll be perfect," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Mingyu glanced at her again, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile. "Well, I’m glad you’re here. It feels good, you know? Cooking for someone I actually care about."

Y/N froze for a second, her breath catching in her throat. The air between them seemed to shift, and for a split second, it felt like the world was just the two of them—alone in the kitchen, surrounded by the soft hum of the city outside.

But before she could say anything, Mingyu turned his attention back to the stove, and the moment passed, though Y/N could still feel the weight of his words hanging in the air.

As Y/N watched him, a small smile tugged at her lips. She couldn’t help but appreciate the way Mingyu moved in the kitchen—confident, fluid, as though cooking was second nature to him. The way his brow furrowed in concentration as he finely chopped the shallots, the rhythm of his hands when he stirred the risotto, the way his lips curled into a soft smile every time he glanced over at her. Everything about him seemed to draw her in, in a way she hadn't expected.

Her eyes wandered over the small details—the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his sleeves were pushed up just enough to show the muscles of his forearms as he worked. His focus was entirely on the dish, yet there was an easy comfort between them now. She had never thought she'd be in someone else's kitchen like this, let alone with someone she could feel so at ease around.

And that’s when it hit her—this wasn’t just about food. It wasn’t just about a shared meal or a simple date. It was the way her heart seemed to beat a little faster when he caught her looking at him, the way her thoughts kept circling back to him, even when she wasn’t with him. She was starting to care about him in a way she hadn’t realized before.

Y/N's gaze softened as she rested her hands on the edge of the counter, letting the quiet moments fill the space between them. She was falling for him. Slowly, but surely. It wasn’t a loud realization or a dramatic shift. It was subtle—a gradual unfolding that felt natural, like the comfort she found in the kitchen with him. It had always been there, maybe even before she knew it, but now she could no longer ignore the truth.

She leaned back against the counter and watched as he finished preparing the dish. “You really are amazing at this,” she said softly, almost to herself.

Mingyu glanced up at her, his lips curving into a smile, his eyes soft. “I told you, cooking is the easy part,” he replied with a wink. But Y/N could see the pride in his eyes, the way he lit up when she complimented his work.

And in that moment, as the fragrance of the risotto and shrimp filled the air, she realized that it wasn’t just the food that was drawing her in. It was him.

“Do you mind setting the table?” He asked, nodding towards the drawer with the plates and knives. 

“Not at all!” She smiled, moving towards the drawer he’d pointed to. As she pulled it open, she noticed how neat everything was—plates stacked perfectly, knives and forks arranged with careful precision. It was simple, but there was a thoughtfulness to it, much like everything else he did.

She carefully set the plates on the table, the sound of the ceramic clinking softly in the otherwise quiet room. As she arranged the utensils, her mind wandered back to the moment they had just shared in the kitchen.

Mingyu’s presence, the way he moved with such confidence and grace, was intoxicating in its own way. There was something about being here with him, in his space, watching him do what he loved. It felt like they were in a bubble—everything outside seemed far away.

When she turned to check if the table was set just right, Mingyu was already bringing over the dishes. He smiled as he placed the risotto and shrimp in front of her, the steam rising from the plates, making her stomach growl in anticipation.

“You’re too kind,” Y/N said, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

Mingyu shrugged casually, his smile never faltering. “It’s the least I could do for my favorite guest.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the way he said that. Favorite guest. She didn’t know why those words seemed to settle in her chest, but they did. They made everything feel more intimate, more meaningful.

“I’ll take it,” she said with a teasing smile.

They both settled into their seats, the comfort between them growing even more as the conversation flowed naturally. As they dug into the meal, Y/N felt herself relaxing, more at ease with every passing moment. It wasn’t just the food that was satisfying—it was the feeling of being here with him, of sharing this space and time together.

And for the first time in a while, she felt like she could let go of the things she kept so tightly guarded, the things she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit. But for now, she would just enjoy the moment, knowing that there was something here that couldn’t be ignored. 

The room felt warmer as the silence stretched between them, a quiet, electric tension building with every glance. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how close Mingyu was, how his presence seemed to fill the space in ways she hadn’t expected. His eyes, warm and steady, never left hers, and for the first time, she felt as though he was seeing right through her—past all the walls she had carefully constructed around herself.

She tried to look away, but it was impossible. His gaze was magnetic, pulling her in, making her heart skip a beat each time their eyes met. The way he was watching her made her feel vulnerable, yet strangely safe, as if he was the only person who truly understood her.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat, suddenly aware of how close they were, the soft hum of the kitchen lights amplifying the silence between them. She took a small sip of her wine to break the stillness, but her hand trembled slightly, betraying her calm facade.

Mingyu, too, seemed to be caught in the moment, his fork pausing mid-air as he watched her with an intensity that made her feel exposed in the best way possible. His lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile, the corners of his mouth turning up in a way that made Y/N’s breath catch.

“Are you sure you like it?” he asked, his voice lower than before, as though every word was deliberately chosen. His tone, almost playful, didn’t mask the deeper layers of meaning that seemed to lie beneath it.

Y/N cleared her throat, suddenly unsure of how to respond, but she nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice quiet, yet sincere. “It’s... perfect.”

His gaze softened at her words, but his eyes never wavered. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, and Y/N felt the distance between them shrinking with each passing second.

As the minutes ticked by, they both continued to steal glances at each other, each look laden with something neither of them wanted to acknowledge just yet. Y/N’s mind raced, her thoughts tangled with the overwhelming realization that something was shifting between them, something that neither of them could fully understand or control.

Mingyu finally broke the eye contact, his attention shifting back to his plate, but there was no mistaking the lingering heat in his gaze. He cleared his throat, as if to steady himself, but the unspoken words still hung in the air, waiting to be said.

Y/N’s fingers brushed against the edge of her wine glass, her heart still racing from the exchange, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to say anything. The moment was perfect in its quiet intensity, and somehow, she didn’t want to disturb it. Instead, she took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, feeling the weight of the silence settle around them, knowing that the tension was only growing stronger with each passing moment.

Mingyu stood up from the table, his gaze shifting to Y/N with a soft smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. The last of their plates were cleared away, the remnants of their meal now just a memory between them. He extended one hand toward her, the gesture simple yet filled with meaning.

"Come on," he said, his voice low and inviting. "Let's go to the living room."

Y/N looked up, slightly taken aback by the warmth in his eyes. She hesitated for a moment, the feeling in her chest shifting, but she found herself unable to resist the quiet pull between them. Slowly, she placed her hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers.

Mingyu's fingers curled gently around hers as he guided her toward the living room, the softest brush of his touch sending a flutter through her chest. His hand was firm yet tender, leading her with an ease that made her feel as though they’d been in this exact moment before, like they belonged here, together.

As they reached the living room, Mingyu turned to her with a reassuring smile, the atmosphere around them suddenly feeling more intimate, more personal. He gently tugged her forward, letting go of her hand for just a moment to adjust the cushions on the couch. Then, with a simple, effortless motion, he gestured for her to sit beside him, his body language warm and open.

"You can make yourself comfortable," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if he didn’t want to disrupt the calm that had settled between them. His hand, still lingering close to hers, rested gently on the back of the couch, the subtle invitation hanging in the air.

Y/N glanced at him for a moment, caught in the quiet tension of the moment. Her breath caught as their eyes met again, and without thinking, she moved closer, sitting beside him, her knee brushing against his. There was no rush, no pressure, just the shared space between them, quiet and unspoken.

And as she settled in, Mingyu’s hand found hers again, their fingers intertwining in the softest, most natural way. Neither of them spoke, but the silence felt comfortable, like the promise of something more.

“I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, Y/N,” Mingyu said softly, his voice warm and genuine. His gaze never left hers as he gently brought their hands up, holding them delicately in his grasp. With a tender smile, he pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand, his lips lingering for just a moment, a quiet gesture of affection.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed pink, warmth spreading across her skin. She tilted her head slightly, attempting to hide the soft blush, but the smile that tugged at her lips betrayed her. Still, she squeezed his hand in return, offering him a reassuring gesture that she, too, was enjoying the moment.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice quieter than usual, the words coming from a place of sincerity. "I’m sorry I was so... bitchy when we first met." She looked up at him, the vulnerability in her words almost surprising her. "It’s not the best tactic for making new friends."

Mingyu’s smile softened even further, his eyes full of understanding and warmth. “Hey, we all have our moments,” he said, brushing his thumb gently over the back of her hand. “I’m just glad we got past it. Honestly, I think you’re one of the most real people I’ve met.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, and she felt a small weight lift off her chest. It was one thing to hear a compliment, but to hear such genuine kindness from him... it meant more than she expected. With a slight, playful grin, she met his eyes once again.

"Maybe you’ve just been lucky," she teased lightly, her voice carrying a touch of playfulness that was now natural between them.

Mingyu chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he leaned in just a little closer. “I don’t think so,” he said, voice low and soft. “I think I’m just starting to realize how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her chest, her heart suddenly racing as she looked into Mingyu’s eyes. The way his gaze held hers—gentle, sincere—felt like an unspoken promise, a depth that she hadn't quite expected. She could feel her pulse quicken, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade into the background.

His eyes were so open, so vulnerable, and yet so full of affection. It made her feel seen, truly seen, in a way she hadn't in a long time. She shifted slightly, the air around them thick with a new, unspoken tension, her words stuck in her throat.

"Why do you always make me feel like this?" Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability slipping into her tone despite her best efforts to hold it in.

Mingyu's lips curled up at the edges in a quiet, comforting smile. "Because it's how you deserve to feel," he said, his voice tender. "You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for, Y/N."

Her chest tightened at his words, and for the first time, she felt like she could let her guard down, even just a little. Still, she turned her face away slightly, as if trying to hide the warmth rushing to her cheeks.

"You really are something else," she murmured, almost to herself. She could feel the shift in the air between them, the subtle pull that neither of them seemed to want to ignore.

The room felt still, the air thick with the quiet hum of their shared breaths. Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from Mingyu, even though her heart was thudding wildly in her chest. It felt like they were standing on the edge of something—something unspoken, yet undeniable.

Mingyu’s gaze was gentle, his eyes full of warmth and affection, and there was a softness in the way he held her hand, his thumb brushing against her skin in a comforting rhythm. Y/N didn’t know when the distance between them had closed, but now, it felt as if there was no space left, only the tender connection that seemed to pulse between them with every shared glance.

“I… really like being with you like this,” Mingyu said quietly, his voice low, his words tender. “It’s easy, you know?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered. She hadn’t expected him to say that, but it made everything feel more real, more present. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah, it is,” she whispered back, her voice softer than usual, the vulnerability slipping through her words. "I do, too."

The air between them seemed to grow heavier, as if everything in the world had narrowed down to this one moment. Y/N was aware of how close they were now, the warmth of Mingyu’s body near hers, the subtle way his fingers traced the back of her hand. It was like she could feel every beat of his heart in the stillness of the room.

And then, without thinking, she took a step closer, her hand shifting in his until their palms were pressed flush together. She couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to be closer.

Mingyu’s eyes softened, his gaze flicking down to where their hands were joined, then back to her face. His breath caught slightly, but his fingers didn’t pull away. He seemed to be waiting for something, and Y/N couldn’t tell if he was waiting for her to say something or to move, but neither of them spoke.

Y/N’s pulse quickened, her hands trembling just a bit as she took another small step toward him. She felt the heat radiating off him, and it made her heart race even faster. Was she imagining this? Was he feeling the same pull?

Mingyu’s voice broke the silence, barely a whisper. “Y/N…”

She looked up, meeting his gaze, and in that moment, it was like everything else around them faded away. There were no more words, no more doubts. Just the magnetic pull between them.

Mingyu’s eyes flickered to her lips and back to her eyes, asking a silent question that only she could answer. His hand, still holding hers, squeezed gently, almost as if to reassure her.

Slowly, as though giving her time to pull away, he leaned in, his breath soft against her face. The space between them closed by mere inches, and the anticipation became a tangible thing, thick in the air.

Y/N felt her body lean in instinctively, her own breath shallow, her heart hammering even louder now. She tilted her head slightly, drawn to him like a magnet, and her gaze dropped to his lips before returning to his eyes.

It was in that moment, when she felt the heat of his proximity, when she realized she was no longer afraid of what might come next, that she knew. She knew she wanted this. She wanted him.

“Can I…” Mingyu started, his voice barely above a whisper, but he didn’t finish the sentence. There was no need. He was already moving closer, the question lingering in the air. And Y/N, breathless, nodded—her silent agreement in the form of a slight tilt of her head.

Without another word, their lips met. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as though they were both testing the waters. But it didn’t take long for the pressure to build, the sweet, slow burn of something deeper, something more profound than either of them had expected. His lips were soft, his touch gentle, but there was an intensity there that she hadn’t anticipated.

Y/N’s hand, which had been resting at her side, moved up to touch his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. Mingyu’s hand slid to her back, pulling her closer, and for a brief moment, she felt weightless, like time itself had paused for them.

But even then, the kiss never rushed. It was full of hesitation and longing, each movement delicate, as though they both knew they were crossing into something new, something neither of them was quite ready to name yet, but both of them wanted just the same.

When they finally pulled away, the distance between them felt even smaller than before. Y/N’s breath was quick, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with his, and she found herself smiling—half shy, half dazed.

Mingyu smiled back, his hand still resting on her back, not letting go of her just yet. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of sincerity.

Y/N could only smile in return, her heart still racing. “Me too,” she whispered, her fingers still tracing the edge of his shirt, as though grounding herself back in reality before pressing her lips back to his. 

After work, it became a habit for both Y/N and Mingyu to head to his place for a late-night meal followed by stolen kisses. During breaks, they shared hidden moments—quick glances, secret hand-holding, and the occasional kiss—but in the kitchen, they did their best to keep things professional. The tension between them simmered just beneath the surface, adding an unspoken layer to their already complicated dynamic, but things hadn’t escalated past that… yet.

Today was Mingyu’s birthday—he was turning twenty-seven—and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she thought about it. She had been planning for this day quietly in the background, wanting to make it special for him. The plan was simple—distract him while the others worked behind the scenes, and then, after everything was set, they’d go back to his place for a late-night meal, just the two of them.

As the night wrapped up, the kitchen buzzed with the familiar sounds of cleaning. Joshua, Jeonghan, and Chan quietly slipped out, leaving Y/N and Mingyu to finish tidying up their stations.

Mingyu glanced over at Y/N as he wiped down the counter, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Why am I cleaning up Jeonghan’s station on my birthday?” he chuckled, giving her a look of mock exasperation.

Y/N shook her head, a teasing smile on her lips. “Maybe Jeonghan just wants you to enjoy your special day. I’m happy to help,” she said, brushing past him to collect the stray dishes.

Mingyu leaned against the counter, watching her with an amused gaze. “Well, I can’t say no to that. But, you know, I had this grand idea for my birthday… and now I’m just stuck in the kitchen cleaning.” His voice dropped an octave, and there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “I thought maybe I’d get a little more attention from you tonight.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his gaze. She smiled softly, not trusting herself to say much in return. “You know I’m always here to help, Mingyu.”

His grin softened, and he took a step closer, his hand brushing against hers as he reached for a dish. The simple touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t help but glance up at him through her lashes.

“I know,” he said, voice low, “but maybe I need more than just help from you tonight.”

Before she could say anything else, Mingyu cupped her cheek gently with his hand, his touch sending a spark through her. He stepped closer, his body heat making her pulse quicken. Without another word, he pressed her back against the counter, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative—like they were both testing the waters.

Y/N’s breath caught, her heart racing as she found herself leaning into the kiss. His lips were warm, his hand steady against her cheek as he deepened the kiss, a subtle urgency in his movements. It felt as though everything around them had faded away—no kitchen, no mess to clean, just the two of them lost in the moment.

She slid her arms around his neck instinctively, pulling him closer, feeling the intensity between them rise. His hand slid down to her waist, his touch sending a shiver through her spine, making her feel something she hadn’t quite been ready for—but wanted all the same.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling in the small space between them. Mingyu’s eyes were dark with something more than desire, and Y/N couldn’t look away.

“Happy birthday, Mingyu,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

His lips curved into a smile, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. “Best birthday gift I could’ve asked for,” he replied softly, the weight of his words lingering in the air, “but I’d like to be done cleaning up so we can get out of here.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her breath still slightly shaky from the kiss. She nodded, gently pushing at his chest to create just enough space between them to regain some composure. “Alright, alright, let’s finish up then,” she said with a teasing smile, trying to hide the heat creeping up her neck.

Mingyu grinned, his hands reluctantly moving away from her to grab a rag from the counter. As they worked side by side, the tension between them hadn't quite dissipated, but now it was laced with a new understanding—one that made everything feel different, like the air was charged with something neither of them could ignore.

The soft clink of dishes and the rustling of utensils seemed louder in the quiet space between them. Every so often, their eyes would meet, a silent exchange that spoke volumes. It wasn’t just about the cleanup anymore; it was about what had just shifted between them, a connection deepened by a kiss that neither of them had expected but both welcomed.

When they finally finished, Mingyu turned to her with a raised eyebrow, his smile returning. “You sure you’re ready to leave now?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the anticipation of the night ahead. “I think I am.”

"Alright!" Mingyu said, a bright grin on his face as he reached for her hand. Their fingers intertwined effortlessly, and they stepped out into the crisp New York City streets. The cold air was a welcome contrast to the warmth that still lingered between them. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they walked side by side, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the quiet night.

Y/N and Mingyu walked side by side down the quiet New York City streets, the crisp night air carrying the promise of something new. They’d spent the evening in each other’s company, the lighthearted conversations and shared smiles weaving a thread between them that felt undeniably strong. Mingyu, still holding her hand, couldn't help but feel the excitement bubble up inside him. There was something about this night that felt different—like it was just the beginning of something bigger.

As they reached the door to Mingyu’s apartment, Y/N stopped and turned to him with a playful grin, her eyes twinkling in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Happy birthday, Mingyu,” she said softly, her voice low but filled with affection. Her heart was racing, but she did her best to mask it with a calm demeanor.

Mingyu paused, about to reply, but before he could even process her words, the door swung open with a sudden burst of noise and color.

“Surprise!!”

The entire apartment was alive with energy, the walls adorned with bright, colorful decorations, balloons floating against the ceiling, and a banner that read, Happy Birthday Mingyu! The soft glow of candles flickered on the table, casting a warm light over the gathered crowd of friends and coworkers. Joshua, Jeonghan, Chan, and several others all stood together, grinning widely as they greeted him.

Mingyu froze in place, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Wait… you guys did all this?” he asked, unable to believe the sight in front of him. His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the room, the familiar faces of his coworkers and friends smiling back at him.

Y/N stood just inside the door, her eyes filled with warmth and a hint of mischief. She stepped forward, her smile a soft curve on her lips. “I did,” she said, her voice steady yet full of affection. “Happy birthday, Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s gaze softened as he looked at her, still processing the surprise. He had no idea that this was coming, and the fact that Y/N had orchestrated it all made his heart swell. His words caught in his throat, and for a moment, he just stared at her, trying to find the right way to express his gratitude. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he finally managed. “I didn’t expect this at all. You… you really went all out.”

Y/N chuckled softly, stepping closer. “I wanted to make sure you felt special today. You deserve it.”

Mingyu’s eyes searched hers for a long moment, the affection between them palpable in the quiet space that stretched between them. Without another word, he reached out and pulled her into a tight, heartfelt hug. The warmth of the embrace felt like the world slowing down around them, as if everything was in perfect alignment.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he repeated softly, his voice muffled against her hair. “This is honestly the best birthday gift.”

Y/N rested her head on his chest, her arms around his waist, her heart racing in the stillness of the moment. “I’m glad you like it,” she whispered, feeling his arms tighten around her. It felt right. She could feel how much this meant to him, and it made her heart swell with pride and happiness.

As they pulled apart, Mingyu’s gaze softened. “Thank you,” he murmured. “You’ve made this day unforgettable.”

Y/N smiled warmly, feeling a sense of fulfillment at the joy in his eyes. “I’m just getting started,” she teased gently before making her way into his apartment, leaving Mingyu standing at the door, speechless. The sound of her footsteps echoed lightly in the hallway, and he remained frozen for a moment, taking in the scene before him. His heart was racing, and the world around him felt like it had shifted into something new and exciting.

As he finally stepped inside, the laughter and chatter of friends filled the air, but Mingyu couldn’t tear his gaze away from Y/N. The way she moved, the smile on her face—it all felt surreal. It was more than just a surprise party—it was the way she had planned everything, put so much effort into making him feel special. And it made him realize how much she meant to him, how much this night meant.

Before Mingyu could make his way to anyone, a red solo cup was thrust into his hand by Wonwoo. Mingyu glanced down at the cup, a little confused, before taking a sip. The sharp, bitter taste of tequila immediately hit his tongue, making him cringe.

“What the hell? Is this just straight tequila?” Mingyu asked, his voice incredulous as he looked up at Wonwoo, still reeling from the shock.

Wonwoo gave a small shrug, clearly entertained. “Tequila, and maybe half a shot glass of cherry liqueur,” he replied nonchalantly.

Mingyu shook his head, inspecting the cup as if it had personally wronged him. “It’s disgusting,” he muttered under his breath, his face scrunching up in disgust as he took another reluctant sip.

Wonwoo chuckled, taking a sip from his own drink. “You’re the one who wanted to try it, though.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it was going to taste like punishment.” Mingyu said with a dramatic sigh, trying to shake off the aftertaste.

Y/N, who had been nearby, laughed softly at the exchange. “I think it’s a rite of passage at Mingyu’s birthday party,” she teased, raising an eyebrow as she made her way over to him.

Mingyu shot her a playful look, still holding the offending drink. “A rite of passage? I don’t know, this feels more like a punishment.”

“Well, maybe you just need to find your sweet spot,” Y/N suggested with a smirk, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

“I’m starting to think my sweet spot is away from whatever this is,” Mingyu grumbled, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips as he handed the drink back to Wonwoo.

As the night went on, the party buzzed with laughter, music, and conversation. Mingyu stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by friends who were eager to give him their birthday presents.

Jeonghan was the first to approach, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in his hands. “Here,” he said, grinning, “I’m sure you’ll put this to good use.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, tearing off the wrapping paper with excitement. Inside, he found a sleek, high-quality chef’s knife—one that glinted in the light. “Wow, this is amazing! You know me too well,” Mingyu said, his smile widening as he admired the gift.

Jeonghan shrugged casually. “I’ve seen you eyeing one for a while, so I thought it was about time.”

Mingyu laughed, grateful for the thoughtful gift. “Thanks, Jeonghan. I’ll definitely put this to good use.”

Next up was Chan, who bounced over to him holding a small bag with a cheeky smile. “I may not know much about cooking, but I know a good bottle of wine when I see one!” He handed Mingyu a bottle of red wine, its label elegant and promising of a rich flavor.

Mingyu grinned, accepting the gift with a nod. “This is perfect, Chan. You’ve definitely got my tastes down,” he said, holding the bottle up to admire it.

Joshua was next, walking up with a wide grin and handing Mingyu an envelope. “It’s not much, but I thought it would be something you could use,” he said. Mingyu opened it to reveal a gift card for a high-end butcher shop. “You’ve been talking about wanting to experiment with different cuts of meat, so this should help.”

Mingyu’s eyes lit up at the gift. “Joshua, you’re a genius. This is exactly what I need. Thanks, man.”

Then, Wonwoo, always with a mysterious air about him, handed Mingyu a small, neatly wrapped box. Inside, Mingyu found a cookbook by one of his favorite chefs, one he hadn’t been able to find anywhere. His smile stretched from ear to ear as he flipped through the pages. “Wonwoo, this is perfect,” Mingyu said, clearly touched by the thoughtful gesture.

The group laughed and chatted as Mingyu continued to thank his friends for their presents, but the anticipation of the last gift lingered in the air. Y/N stood near the back, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. She waited until Mingyu had opened the last gift, and then made her way over to him, holding something wrapped in soft paper, her hands a little shaky from both excitement and nerves.

“Here,” Y/N said softly, extending the present to Mingyu. “I—uh—hope you like it.”

Mingyu looked up at her, his gaze soft and warm as he took the gift from her. “Y/N, you didn’t have to…” he started, but his voice trailed off as he carefully unwrapped it, his curiosity piqued. When he opened the paper, he was met with a beautifully crafted leather-bound journal, its edges slightly worn, giving it character. The cover was simple but elegant, with intricate details that seemed to have been hand-etched.

Mingyu’s expression softened as he ran his fingers over the cover. He looked up at Y/N, speechless for a moment. “Y/N… this is…” He struggled to find the words, but his eyes said it all. “I can’t believe you thought of this.”

Y/N smiled, her heart pounding in her chest. “I know you’ve been wanting to write more of your recipes down, keep track of your experiments and ideas. I thought this could be a place for all of that. A way to keep your thoughts in one place.”

Mingyu stepped closer to her, his eyes filled with appreciation. “Thank you. This means more to me than I can say. I’ll definitely put this to good use.” He paused for a moment, looking at the journal, before meeting her gaze again. “I feel like this is the best gift of all.”

The room seemed to fade away as they shared a quiet moment, Mingyu’s gaze lingering on her with warmth, and Y/N’s heart swelling with something more than just affection. For a split second, everything felt still, as if time itself had decided to hold its breath. Mingyu’s smile was all the answer she needed.

The laughter and music in the room returned as the others continued talking, but the connection between them was undeniable, both of them silently agreeing that this moment—this exchange—was more than just a gift. It was a sign of something deeper, something they were only beginning to explore. 

As the night wore on, the drinks flowed freely, and the atmosphere became even more relaxed. Mingyu found himself enjoying the playful teasing that seemed to naturally surface with each sip. Y/N wasn’t immune to the effects of alcohol either, and soon enough, both of them were feeling a little lighter, a little bolder.

Mingyu leaned in slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he watched Y/N take another sip of her drink. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite like this,” he teased, his voice lower than usual, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re usually so… composed.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her own smirk forming as she leaned against the back of the couch. “Is that so?” she replied, her voice teasing and light, the alcohol adding a spark to her words. “Maybe I’m just warming up to you, Chef.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” Mingyu chuckled, leaning closer to her, their faces just inches apart. “Because I thought you were just trying to get me drunk so I’d cook for you more often.”

Y/N laughed, her lips curling in a flirtatious smile. “Well, maybe I am trying to get you drunk,” she said, her voice playful but with an underlying edge. “But I’m also enjoying the company.” She glanced at him, her eyes soft but playful. “And maybe I’ll get a little more daring with my choices, too.”

Mingyu’s heart skipped at the way she said that, his smile widening. He took a step closer, just enough so they were almost touching. “Daring, huh?” He let his gaze linger on her lips for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “I think you’re already pretty daring. You’ve been giving me those looks all night.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly, but her grin only grew. She took another sip, the alcohol dulling her usual reservations. “Maybe it’s the tequila,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or maybe I just like to see how far I can push you.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, you’re pushing me, alright. Just be careful, or I might not be able to stop myself,” he replied, his voice teasing but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly at his words, her heart beating a little faster. She leaned in just a fraction closer, her lips curving into a playful, flirtatious smile. “Is that a promise, Chef?”

Mingyu’s smile softened, but there was a shift in his gaze, his eyes darkening just a bit as he let the words hang in the air. He chuckled softly, but there was a hint of heat in his tone. “It’s more of a warning, actually.”

Y/N's pulse quickened, the air between them thick with the tension they had been building all night. “Well, maybe I like the idea of being warned,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, her voice low and teasing.

Mingyu’s grin grew wider, and before he could reply, he leaned in a little closer, just enough to close the distance between them. His breath mingled with hers, and the subtle flirtation hung heavy in the air, both of them feeling the pull of something more.

“Careful,” he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of her ear before pulling back slightly, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re walking a dangerous line.”

Y/N’s smile only grew, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I like danger.”

Mingyu couldn’t help but chuckle at her boldness, but there was no denying the attraction that simmered between them, heightened by the alcohol and their flirtatious banter. The night was still young, and though they were both a little tipsy, it was clear that the evening was only just beginning.

As they continued their playful back-and-forth, the heat between them intensified, and the world outside their little bubble seemed to fade away.

Just as Mingyu leaned in, his breath mingling with hers, and the air between them crackled with anticipation, the sound of the front door creaked open behind them. Joshua and Jeonghan, the last two guests besides Y/N, made their way toward the door, their voices carrying over the music.

“Well, it looks like it's time for us to head out,” Joshua said with a wink, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

Jeonghan followed suit, giving Mingyu a nod. “Happy birthday again, man. We’ll catch you later.”

Mingyu groaned, rolling his eyes as he leaned back slightly, the mood abruptly interrupted. “Of course you guys would choose now to leave,” he muttered, glancing over at Y/N, who couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the timing.

“Well, duty calls,” Joshua said with a grin, clearly enjoying the teasing. “You two have a good night, okay? Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

Y/N’s smile widened, her eyes shifting back to Mingyu as she bit her lip, trying to keep the moment light. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” she replied, her voice teasing.

Jeonghan gave them both a knowing look, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. “Yeah, don’t stay up too late,” he added, winking before heading out the door.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Mingyu exhaled, a bit of the heat from earlier fading, though the tension between him and Y/N was still palpable. He turned back toward her, his hands hovering at his sides before he slowly reached for her, a grin playing on his lips.

“Guess we’re alone now,” he said softly, the teasing tone still present but tinged with something more sincere. He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing once again.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her smile never faltering. “Guess so.”

The air between them shifted again, the playful banter fading into a quiet intensity, each waiting for the other to make the next move. Mingyu could feel the pull toward her, the desire to finally close the gap between them. The moment was ripe, and neither of them seemed willing to let it slip away this time.

Slowly, but with purpose, Mingyu cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek, before leaning in once again. This time, there would be no interruptions. The kiss was inevitable.

Y/N sighed into the kiss, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer, her body pressing more fully against his. She felt the heat of him radiate through their clothes, the world outside their little bubble fading away. Her heart beat in time with his, and the intoxicating mix of their shared breath made everything else feel distant.

Mingyu, unable to resist any longer, gently guided her back, his lips never leaving hers as he slowly eased her down onto the couch. His body followed hers, hovering just above hers, the weight of him both comforting and electrifying at once. He rested his forearms on either side of her, careful not to crush her, but still bringing them closer, feeling her heartbeat pulse beneath his hands.

For a moment, they just breathed together, the kiss softening as they both took in the closeness, savoring the intimacy without rushing. Mingyu’s thumb grazed along her cheek, his lips slowly trailing down her jaw, tasting her skin as if it was something he couldn't get enough of. Y/N’s chest rose and fell with each breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she let herself get lost in the feeling of being so close to him.

"Are you sure about this?" Mingyu asked softly, his voice low and steady, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. The question hung between them, a moment of vulnerability in the heat of their connection.

Y/N’s hands slid up to his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath her touch. She smiled softly, tilting her head to meet his gaze. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn’t," she murmured, her voice tinged with both certainty and affection.

Mingyu’s lips curled into a smile against her skin, the hesitation he’d felt moments ago melting away. His hands moved to gently cradle her face, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a vulnerability that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

Y/N met his eyes with a look full of warmth, her hand sliding into his hair again. “You won’t,” she whispered, her voice confident. “We’re just... us. No pressure.”

Mingyu smiled, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes, and without another word, he kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring all of his feelings into the embrace. He moved his hand that wasn’t holding him up, to wrap her leg around his waist and then up to cup her ass. She had changed from her work uniform into a cute red dress when they both got back, so as she raised her leg to wrap around his waist, her dress hiked up to reveal her red lace underwear. 

Mingyu groaned as he felt the lace, and slowly started kissing down Y/N’s face and neck, leaving small marks. Y/N gasped and moved her hands from around his neck to into his hair. Gently pulling when he would suck a little bit harder at her neck. 

Mingyu slowly pulled away and looked down at the dress she was wearing before pulling one of the dress straps down, “you look beautiful in this dress,” he said as moving to press a kiss down to her chest before pulling the rest of her dress down to right  below her belly button. 

Y/N gasped as the cold air hit her skin as he moved his free hand up to cup her right breast. Y/N sighed into his mouth as she moved her hands from his hair to start unbuttoning his button up shirt. 

“Take your shirt off,” she sighed unbuttoning his last button as Mingyu sat up a bit, detaching himself from her to shrug off his shirt. As he sat back they both took a second to look at each other. 

Y/N with her swollen lips, smudged lipstick, and hair sprayed out underneath her. 

Mingyu with his golden skin, lipstick stained lips, and out of place hair from Y/N pulling on it. 

He smiled before gently pulling on the bottom of her dress. Y/N lifted her hips off the bed as he pulled the dress completely off her, leaving her just in her lace underwear. After throwing her dress off to the other side of the living room, he leaned back in and started pressing kisses to her chest, and started licking her nipple while his other hand went to squeeze her other breast. 

“Your chest is so pretty,” he said against her skin, switching between breasts and swirling his tongue around her nipple when he was there. 

“I could say the same thing about yours,” she said, running one of her hands down his chest while the other was pulling on his hair again. “That feels good,” she sighed. 

“Yeah?” Mingyu smirked against her and started squeezing her nipple, wanting to try and make her come before even reaching her core, “you feel good baby.” 

Y/N moaned at the pet name and used the hand that was in his hair to push his head further into her chest, causing Mingyu to laugh and suck harder on her. He could feel her heart beating faster, and feel her hips start to cant against his. 

“Are you going to come baby?” He asked, as she nodded and threw her head back a feeling the coil inside her stomach tighten extra tight before Mingyu switched his mouth to the other breast one last time and sucked harder as she felt the coil snap and felt the wave of pleasure wash over her. 

Mingyu smiled and slowly pulled away from her chest, watching it rise and fall, watching her try and catch her breath, before pressing a kiss to her lips. “Do you want to keep going?” 

Y/N smiled and nodded, “I wouldn’t be naked on your couch, if I didn’t want it to keep going,” she teased.

With one smooth motion, he stood, scooping her up effortlessly into his arms, holding her bridal style. A surprised squeal escaped her lips, and she couldn’t help but laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck, suddenly feeling weightless in his embrace. He took a few steps, carrying her toward the bedroom with ease, and a sense of warmth spread through her, both from the closeness and the spark between them. 

As they reached the bedroom door, Mingyu nudged it open with his foot, gently setting her down on the bed. He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. The light wasn’t too bright, but it was soft enough for them to see each other’s smiles.

“I really like you,” Mingyu smiled, his voice full of warmth. “If I haven’t told you that yet.”

Y/N smiled back, her heart racing as she laid back on the bed, with him hovering above her. “I really like you too.” 

He quickly unbuttoned his pants and pushed them off his legs before coming back down to kiss her again. He had leaned himself to the side so he could cup her jaw and lift her leg to his hip once again. He parted her legs enough to drag one of his hands down to in between her thighs and pushed her panties to the side, slipping two of his fingers into her. 

Y/N moaned, as her hand that wasn’t in his har going to grab onto his bicep to try and ground her as he used his thumb to rub against her clit. 

Mingyu smiled as he slowly pulled away from her mouth and started kissing his way back down her body. He kept his two fingers in her, but removed his thumb and replaced it with his mouth. 

“You taste so good baby,” he also moaned, licking his lips trying to collect all the essence from her previous orgasm and impending current one.  He reaches up and moves her legs over his shoulders as his other hand trails up to grasp her breast as he goes back to licking around her clit. 

“I’m gonna cum Gyu,” she say, feeling the coil in her stomach tighten again as he lets go of her breast to hold her hand. 

“Let go baby,” he said. It was all she needed to reach her high and tightened her grasp on his hair as her orgrasm washes over her again. Mingyu’s tongue drops down to her core as he pulls his fingers out to collect all her essence and try to slowly bring her down from her high. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, licking his lips and slowly pulling away from her core. “That was hot.” 

She just nodded, still out of breath from her orgasm to speak as Mingyu gently moved her legs from around his shoulders and took her underwear completely off and put them in his bedside drawer and grab a condom. 

He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N, eyes closed, chest still going up and down before looking over to him, “what?” She asked. 

“You just look gorgeous, all sweaty like this,” he smiled and went to lay on top of her again. 

“Wait,” she said, placing a hand on his chest to stop him, “can I be on top?” 

Mingyu looked at her with his mouth open, before nodding and sitting against the headboard as Y/N sat up and threw her legs over his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“You've been so nice taking care of me tonight and over these last few months,” she smirked, wiggling her hips. “Now it's my turn to take care of you.” 

Mingyu groaned, threw his head back, and set his hands on her hips.  

She scooted herself down a bit so she could pull his boxers down and let him kick them off before grabbing his member and sitting on top of his lap. She gave him a few strokes before sinking down to his length. 

Mingyu groaned, everything had happened so fast. As he opened his eyes and was faced with her pretty chest, game over. He groaned and set his hands on her ass helping her slowly move back and forth to try and help others adjust to his size. He moaned as she started to slowly bounce up and down as he sat up and started pressing kisses and sucking on her chest. 

“You feel so good baby,” he moaned, feeling her core clench around his cock. It had been so long since the last time he was with someone, that he knew that he wouldn’t last long if she kept doing that. “Don’t do that,” he sighed, “I won’t last long.” 

“That’s the whole point,” she chuckled, grabbing one of his hands that was still on her ass to down between her thighs, she knew that he was close and she wanted to come with him. 

“Shit,” he gasped as he slowly rubbed circles over her clit as both of their orgasms washed over them. Mingyu had thrown his head back, trying to catch his breath, while Y/N gently moved off of him and laid down next to him, also trying to catch her breath. 

After almost a minute of silence he looked over to her and smiled, bringing his hand up to move some hair that was stuck to her face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, propping himself up on one arm to lean over her and grab the box of tissues on the bedside table to help clean her up a bit. She smiled as he gently opened her legs and started wiping the cum that was dripping down her legs as she reached over to take a sip from the water bottle that was on the table. 

After he was done and had thrown out the tissues, he also took a sip from the water bottle, before delicately laid his head against her bare chest, listening to her heart beat. 

“What are you doing?” She smiled, running a hand through his damp hair. 

“Just make sure you’re real,” he smiled, “and that I’m not dreaming.” 

She didn’t say anything else and just kept slowly running her fingers through her hair until she could hear his slow, steady breaths, indicating that he had fallen asleep leaving her with her own thoughts. 

Although, having Mingyu with her wasn’t as terrifying as she had originally thought. 

“Hey,” Wonwoo smirked, as Mingyu tried to quietly close his door to not wake her up. “I didn’t know if I’d see you at all today.” 

Mingyu winced, forgetting that poor Wonwoo had probably heard them last night. “I’m sorry man, I never even,” but before he could finish Wonwoo was already smiling. 

“Don’t worry about it, it was your birthday and I know how in love with her you are. Just maybe don’t make a habit out of it.” Mingyu scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes before nodding in agreement. 

“Thanks.” 

Wonwoo chuckled, before grabbing his water bottle he was filling and making his way back to his room, leaving MIngyu alone to make some breakfast for the both of them .He didn’t want to make anything fancy, so instead opted for some french toast and bacon with sliced apples. 

He had managed to make both his and her plates without a single sound from her, so he was surprised to see her up and scrolling on her phone when he came back with both of the plates in hand. “Good morning!” he said, grinning as he walked in.

Y/N looked up, her hair messy and eyes still heavy with sleep, but she smiled at the sight of him. “Morning,” she murmured, setting her phone aside. “You cooked?”

“I did,” he said proudly, holding up the plates like trophies. “I didn’t burn anything either, which feels like a win this early in the morning.”

She chuckled, reaching out as he handed her a plate. “Wow, breakfast in bed? You're really trying to make sure I never leave.”

He sat down beside her, bumping her shoulder gently. “Is it working?”

“Maybe,” she teased, shooting him a playful glance before digging into the food. After a few bites, she looked at him again. “This is really good, by the way. You didn’t have to go all out.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, watching her with a fondness that made her stomach flutter more than the eggs ever could.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, legs brushing beneath the covers, sunlight streaming faintly through the curtains.

“Last night felt like a dream,” she whispered eventually, almost as if she were afraid saying it out loud would make it vanish.

Mingyu looked at her softly, setting his fork down and leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “If it was, then I hope I never wake up.”

She laughed, blushing again, then leaned her head onto his shoulder, her voice quieter now. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“At what?”

“Making me feel like I matter.”

He paused, touched by her honesty, and squeezed her hand under the blanket. “That’s easy,” he murmured. “Because you do.”

Y/N just smiled slowly and leaned over the food to kiss him, her lips brushing his softly. “Was Wonwoo here last night?” she asked, settling back against the pillows with her plate in her lap. “I could hear you guys talking.”

Mingyu chuckled, taking a sip from the mug he’d brought for himself. “Yeah, but he said that since it was my birthday, he’d let it slide.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming as she balanced her plate. “Well, I’d like your roommate to actually like me, so I guess that means we won’t be doing that here anymore.”

Mingyu nearly choked on his coffee, eyes widening before he laughed. “Guess we’ll just have to get creative.”

She gave him a mock glare, shaking her head with a grin. “You’re impossible.”

“But you like me,” he shot back, leaning in just enough to make her heart stutter again.

“Unfortunately,” she murmured with a teasing sigh, before nudging his leg under the covers.

“So… are you guys, like, okay to still work together?” Jeonghan asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Y/N and Mingyu stroll into the kitchen, fingers intertwined.

Y/N and Mingyu shared a quick glance before Mingyu shrugged, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan said, holding up his hands. “I’ve seen couples crash and burn over less than a dinner rush.”

“We’ve survived worse,” Y/N replied coolly, squeezing Mingyu’s hand before slipping away to her station. “And besides, we’re both professionals.”

Mingyu chuckled and followed after her. “Speak for yourself. I still can’t look at the risotto station without having flashbacks.”

“Traumatic or romantic?” Jeonghan called after them.

“Bit of both,” Mingyu chuckled, as Y/N hit him across the shoulder with a rag. 

“Okay, but if anything goes wrong, I vote we kick Mingyu out,” Jeonghan declared with a mischievous grin.

“What? Jeonghan!” Mingyu groaned, turning to face him with mock betrayal.

“I second that!” Joshua chimed in from across the kitchen, barely hiding his laughter.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes, grabbing a carrot slice from the cutting board and lobbing it in their direction. “You guys are so supportive.”

Jeonghan dodged it with a dramatic gasp. “Violence in the workplace? That’s grounds for a write-up!”

Joshua just chuckled, “Yeah, right after HR hears about the risotto flirting.”

Y/N tried to hide her smile as she prepped ingredients, but Mingyu caught it. “Oh, so you’re all against me now?”

Y/N glanced over with a teasing smirk. “I’m Switzerland.”

“Coward,” Mingyu mumbled playfully, shaking his head as everyone burst into laughter again.

“Stop moving,” Mingyu moaned, pinning Y/N’s hips against her couch, latching his mouth onto her clit again. 

True to her word, they had gone to Y/N’s place for tonight’s activities. She wasn’t going to risk accidentally running into Wonwoo after their second night together in a row. 

Y/N threw her head back and tried to move her hands to touch him, but Mingyu was sneaky and had brought a pair of handcuffs to work with him. He had surprised her after dinner which had led to her naked on the couch, with her man in between her legs. 

She felt Mingyu’s other hand rub her hip softly before sliding two of his fingers into her, curling them. 

“Mingyu!” 

“Yeah baby?” 

“Can I at least move my arms?” She asked, as Mingyu chuckled against her core. 

“Nope, keep them above your head until I’m done,” he reminded her as she half moaned, half groaned at the movement of his fingers and at the annoyance of being held in place. 

Y/N slowly moved her hips with his hand and soon enough, she could feel her orgasm creeping up on her. Mingyu smiled and sped up his fingers, letting her orgasm, and listening to her try and catch her breath. 

“You okay baby?” He asked, pressing a kiss to her lips before moving to undo the handcuffs. 

She hummed and let her hands fall around his neck once they were finally free from the cuffs. “Can I ask you a question?” She asked, still slightly out of breath, but enough to look into his eyes. 

“Of course,” he softly answered. 

“Do you think I’m a good chef?” She asked, as Mingyu’s eyes widened, surprised at the deep question, wondering where it had come from. 

“Of course I think you’re a good chef baby. I think you’re one of the best chef’s I know.” She smiled, but his answer didn’t necessarily make her feel better, “Why do you ask?” 

She sighed, trying to figure out how to articulate her words, “because I feel like I’ve always had to prove myself. In school, with my friends, I mean even at work. I’m the only woman, and I’ve always been a little bit more…. Difficult to get along with and it’s made life hard. People tend to see me as cold hearted and then they undercut my work.” 

Mingyu nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm, hoping that it conveyed that he was listening. 

“I guess it’s just nice to hear that I’m good at something from someone that I care about,” she said, as they both smiled. Mingyu nodded and leaned up on one of his elbows to slightly lean over her again. 

“I think you’re an amazing chef,” he whispered, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead, “an amazing leader,” another kiss to her cheek, “an caring and attentive friend,” a kiss to her neck, “and I’m very lucky to know you baby,” he finally said, gently rolling her onto her back. Y/N sighed, against his touch, and hauled herself up onto her knees and elbows and moved her hair so he could kiss along her neck. 

“I really think you’re extraordinary and I want to reward you for it,” he sighed as he held her hips and carefully slid into her, moaning at the thrust of his own hips. 

“I also think you’re a caring and loyal person who may be a bit of a simp,” she tried to joke, but before she could laugh, he thrusted a little bit harder, “but I guess it worked in my favour.” 

That made Mingyu chuckle, but he didn’t waste an opportunity to keep drilling into her. 

“Keep telling me things you like about me baby,” he smirked,” and I’ll let you come.” 

“I also really admire your passion for cooking and your ambition to get better,” she sighed, pushing her hips back, “I like how gentle you are with me, and I like how you don’t just write people off. You like to give them a chance and try to see them for who they really are!”

Mingyu smiled, and leaned over her and tilted her head to the side to look her in the eyes as they both came, and pressed a kiss to her neck again as they both came undone together. Mingyu groaned into her ear before leaning a bit more of his weight onto her, but not crushing her. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N chuckled, watching him catch his breath as she brushed a few strands of hair from his face. Mingyu nodded, doing the same.

“Are you guys like official now?” Wonwoo asked, watching Mingyu dump all his bag into his room before taking a seat beside him on the couch. 

“I don’t know,” Mingyu sighed, “I want to be more, that’s for sure, but I mean we’ve only been like this for a couple of days. I think I’m just gonna wait a bit longer.” 

Wonwoo winced, knowing that his best friend was good at procrastinating and overthinking and that he probably wouldn’t ask her if he wasn’t pushed to, “I mean it’s obvious that she likes you as well. You don’t want to wait to long.” 

Mingyu shrugged, “I guess. I just don’t want to make things awkward if she doesn’t want to make it official yet.” 

“Yes, but girls think more than guys do and she’s probably wondering what you’re feeling. I’m sure being honest with her will help.” 

“When did you become so knowledgeable with girls?” Mingyu chuckled, looking over to Wonwoo who was still laying sideways on the couch. 

“By watching you mess up so many potential relationships,” Wonwoo smiled. 

“What about Jisoo?” Mingyu asked, referring to Wonwoo’s sister.

“I’m sure that helped, but man. Watching someone else fuck up really helps you learn.” 

Mingyu rolled his eyes and threw himself back onto the couch. It was true. Even though he was pretty focused during school, he had his fair share of summer flings and wasn’t afraid to flirt around at the bar. 

The worst one was when Mingyu had brought a girl he had been taking out for almost a month to accept a drink that a woman had sent him at the bar to watching the fight happen and then the inevitable ‘breakup’. 

“All I’m saying is, if you really like her as much as you say you do, you should act before it’s too late,” Wonwoo said, his eyes flicking back to the TV. “I have a feeling she won’t wait around as long as you think.”

Mingyu stayed silent, Wonwoo’s words echoing in his mind.

He leaned back into the couch, staring blankly at the TV but not really seeing it. His chest tightened slightly at the thought, the idea of losing Y/N before they even had the chance to figure out what they could be.

It scared him more than he wanted to admit.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar tug of frustration and uncertainty. Was he moving too slow? Had he been too cautious, assuming they had all the time in the world?

A part of him had wanted to savor this — the way she smiled at him when she thought no one was looking, the little brushes of her hand against his, the quiet comfort of her presence.

But maybe savoring wasn’t enough anymore.

Maybe it was time to choose her — loudly, clearly, without hesitation.

"Those are gorgeous!" Yuna gasped, pointing at the bouquets scattered across Y/N’s kitchen counters. Vibrant colors and fresh scents filled the small space, making it feel like a florist’s shop. It was the second day in a row that Mingyu had sent flowers—each bouquet different, each more beautiful than the last.

"Are they from Mingyu?" Yuna asked, grinning knowingly. Y/N nodded, trying to hide the way her cheeks warmed, biting her lip in a failed attempt to fight the growing smile.

"Wow," Yuna laughed, leaning against the counter, "and he's still sending you flowers after you slept with him?" "Yuna!" Y/N gasped, swatting her friend on the arm. "What?" Yuna said, hands raised innocently. "I'm just saying — most guys pull the romantic stuff to get the girl, not after. It's kind of rare... in a good way. Means he's still trying to impress you."

Y/N shook her head, smiling down at the bouquet closest to her. "Yeah... he's definitely different."

“Are you gonna keep seeing him?” Yuna asked, taking a seat on the edge of Y/N’s bed, watching as she went around the room, trying to finish getting ready so she could go to work. 

“I think so,” Y/N shrugged, “I mean I like being around him. So, as long as he doesn’t get bored.” 

“Babe, he’s a six foot two, muscle man that begged to eat you out. I don’t think he’ll get bored,” Yuna stared without blinking.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything else, not wanting to be analyzed at nine in the morning. “What about you? How was your date with Jay?”

“Hey! Don’t change the topic!” Yuna exclaimed, pointing accusingly at Y/N, who was slipping on her shoes, clearly ready to make an escape. “We’re not done here!”

Y/N grabbed her bag and gave Yuna a mischievous smile. “We are for now. I’ve got a shift to catch.”

“That’s not fair!” Yuna groaned dramatically, flopping back on the couch like she’d been personally wronged. “You always dodge emotional conversations like it’s a sport.”

Y/N shrugged as she opened the door. “I just prefer to keep some mystery.”

Yuna smirked, raising a brow. “Tell that to the guy who’s been sending you daily flower arrangements like he’s in a K-drama.”

“Goodbye, Yuna,” Y/N said over her shoulder, her smile lingering even as the door clicked shut behind her.

Y/N was rushing around the pantry, a handful of lemons and limes in hand and her mind only half-focused. She was headed toward the kitchen when the sound of familiar voices drifted out through the slightly ajar door. She paused.

“…Still in the honeymoon phase, or are things starting to lose their spark?” Jeonghan’s voice rang out in that usual playful tone of his.

Y/N stopped mid-step. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but Mingyu’s laugh followed right after, low and tired.

“You know how these things go,” he said.

Her chest tightened.

Jeonghan let out a mock gasp. “Already? Man, and here I thought you were a changed man.”

Mingyu gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, well… sometimes it’s hard to keep up the effort when everything else feels like a lot.”

Y/N stood frozen in place, her fingers curling slightly around the produce in her hand. 

You know how these things go.

It’s hard to keep up the effort.

She turned without thinking and walked back the way she came, the pounding in her chest louder than her footsteps. The rational part of her told her it was just a conversation between friends, probably something stupid Jeonghan had started. But Mingyu hadn’t defended them. He hadn’t said her name. He hadn’t sounded like someone who was sure of what they had.

She gave her head a small shake, trying to chase away the spiral of thoughts and refocus on work, but it was no use. His words kept echoing in her mind, dulling everything else around her. When she finally stepped into the kitchen, Mingyu and Jeonghan greeted her with casual waves. She didn’t return the gesture—didn’t even look their way. Instead, she moved wordlessly to the counter, setting down the produce and beginning her prep for the night, her silence louder than any response.

Mingyu’s smile faltered the moment she passed by without so much as a glance. His brows furrowed slightly, head tilting in quiet confusion as he watched her move stiffly around the station. Something was off. Y/N was never overly bubbly, but this… this was cold. Distant. He exchanged a quick glance with Jeonghan, who shrugged before going back to his own prep, while Mingyu kept watching, a knot of worry beginning to form in his chest. 

The rest of the night was more of the same, Mingyu making small attempts to talk to her, to catch her eye, to coax even the smallest smile, and Y/N responding with little more than curt nods or polite indifference. It wasn’t like her. Not with him.

Had he done something wrong?

He ran through the past day in his head over and over. Since the last time he saw her, all he’d really done was head home and catch up with Jeonghan—mostly venting about how he was managing the extra dishes after Minghao changed positions. That was it. Nothing that should’ve upset her.

He even replayed the night they spent together, searching for something he might’ve said or done to make her pull away. But everything about that night had felt easy-warm, even. She’d sent him a good morning text today, complete with a heart. Things had felt good. Solid.

So why did she feel so far away now?

“Y/N?” Mingyu asked softly, stepping closer to her station. He watched her move with mechanical focus, fluttering around her prep like he wasn’t even there.

“Y/N,” he said again, firmer this time, hoping she’d at least glance at him.

“What, Mingyu?” she snapped, barely looking up.

His brows knit together. “Why are you ignoring me?”

She let out a sharp sigh and rolled her eyes. “It’s the middle of prep on a Saturday night. I’m busy.”

He blinked, taken aback by her tone. “Since when do you talk to me like that?” he asked, voice quiet but pointed.

She said nothing, her hands moving with practiced precision, as if the task in front of her demanded every ounce of focus, when in truth, it was just easier than looking at him.

“Y/N, please,” Mingyu said again, softer this time, like he was afraid to push too hard.

She froze for half a second, then exhaled sharply. “Yeah, well, it’s just hard to keep up the effort,” she snapped, finally looking up, her eyes sharp and tired.

Mingyu stood there, stunned, wide-eyed. The words hit him harder than he expected.

Shit.

She must have overheard what he and Jeonghan had been joking about earlier. The offhand comments about picking up more shifts. About things being “too much.”

He opened his mouth to explain, but before a single word could leave his lips, Y/N had already picked up her cutting board and moved her prep station to the far end of the kitchen, putting distance between them like it was armor.

He wanted to explain the misunderstanding to her, but understood that it should probably wait until after work. He just sighed and ran a hand down his sweaty face before returning to his station. 

He would have to talk to her after. 

Today was one of those rare nights Y/N was relieved to be off early. The entire shift had felt heavy—like the air around Mingyu had grown thicker, harder to breathe. So when she clocked out just after midnight, the last thing she expected was to hear her name being called behind her.

“Y/N!” Mingyu’s voice cut through the quiet, his footsteps quickening as he jogged after her.

She let out a tired sigh, not stopping. “Not now, Mingyu,” she said, raising a hand to keep him at arm’s length. But instead of backing off, he gently caught her hand on his own.

“Please,” he said, his voice softer now. He stepped in close, their breath fogging in the cold night air. “What you overheard earlier, keeping up the effort’, it wasn’t about you. It wasn’t about us.”

Y/N blinked, the anger in her eyes faltering slightly as he laced their fingers together and brought their joined hands to his chest.

“It was about work,” he continued, his voice steady but earnest. “I’ve been taking on the new dishes since Minghao switched positions. I was talking to Jeonghan about how it’s been kicking my ass—not about you. Never about you.”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression flickering between surprise and guarded skepticism. Mingyu smiled gently, trying to ease the tension that had been sitting between them all day.

“I thought something changed,” she admitted quietly. “You were distant... and I thought I messed something up.”

His hand tightened just slightly around hers.

“No,” he whispered. “You’re the only thing keeping me grounded right now.”

Y/N sighed, the tension in her shoulders finally beginning to melt. A wave of relief crashed over her, quickly followed by embarrassment as the weight of her own assumptions settled in. She covered her face with her hands, letting out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice muffled behind her palms. “I really thought you meant…”

“I know,” Mingyu said gently, tugging her hands away so he could see her face. “It sounded bad. I should’ve been more careful.”

She looked up at him, her eyes soft and apologetic. “I just… I’ve never had something that felt this good before. And I think I panicked when it started to feel too real.”

Mingyu's thumb brushed over the back of her hand. “Then let’s be real together. We don’t have to figure it all out at once. But I don’t want you doubting how I feel about you.”

Her lip quirked into a small, sheepish smile. “You really like me, huh?”

He grinned. “Kind of obsessed, actually.”

She laughed, the sound easing the last of the tension between them.

“Walk me home?” she asked.

“Only if you let me hold your hand the whole way.”

A/N: Well guys! that's it for the main story of a recipe for us! I'm gonna upload an epilogue for sure with some more smut in the future, but I think that this is a good spot to end this story for now! We will defiantly see more of this grumpy x sunshine combo in the future!

Thanks for being patient and I hope you enjoy it <3

TS19009

taglist: @fancypeacepersona@lolawlolawlol@syluslittlecrows@alyssa19123456@christinewithluv

[annabelle--cane]

this is a difficult thing to have conversations about because it provokes really strong reactions in people for completely valid and understandable reasons, so please feel free to hit da bricks on this post whenever you want, but I do want to try and analyse the jonmartin slaps. we get three across 160, 169, and 172, and a line addressing it in 173, and then it never happens or comes up again. none of them come out of nowhere, and they mostly fly under the radar until 173 because they all broadly fit the "slapping someone out of a trance in an emergency" trope, but each of them slowly decreases in urgency.

the first time, the apocalypse starts up and martin comes back to find a passed out jon, can't wake him by making noise, and strikes him in a panic. this makes sense, this is a man who has entered a supernatural coma before and martin had no idea what was going on, so of course he'd jump to something desperate.

the second time, they're in a burning building, jude arrives while jon is still mid-statement, and when making noise doesn't work martin slaps him out of it. this makes sense, they were there for jude and if jon didn't come back to himself then she likely would have hurt them, though martin knew that her powers against them were limited.

the third time, jon is getting pulled into into a repeating statement instead of coming out on his own like usual, so martin speaks once or twice to try and get his attention, and then slaps him out of it. this... again, it makes sense, jon was getting trapped, but there was no immediate peril like before, martin just got freaked out and wanted to leave quickly. he seems to get that it was harsh because he apologizes for it, but they don't linger at all, martin just starts in on them having to leave immediately.

the last time it's mentioned is when they're on night street, during what is one of their most intense arguments. jon tries to talk about the suffering of the children there for longer than he needs to in order to make a point, martin cuts him off, and he pointedly says, "thank you for not hitting me this time." it never happens or is brought up again.

to our knowledge, jon doesn't say anything about the slapping until 173. he's not a guy who's known for speaking up when things upset him, he was amiably working with daisy within about a week of her trying to kill him, so it makes sense that he would just sit with this comparatively more minor thing. however, I do think it's relevant to note that, at this point in their relationship, martin will sometimes voice his feelings and boundaries (not listening to statements, not consenting to mind reading, worrying when jon expresses discomfort with his body), while jon doesn't. from the couple of times he does talk about his feelings this season, I think that tendency comes a few places: he has a hard time being aware of his emotions at all, he doesn't know how to evaluate his emotions' importance in comparison to others', he assumes his emotions are obvious and thus people already act with full knowledge of them, and the topic is just hard to make himself talk about. from what he says in 173, I think the slaps bothered him the entire time, but he made himself be fine with it until he was upset with martin for unrelated reasons and finally let it out.

as for martin's side, I do not think the slaps came from any kind of suppressed desire to hurt or wield power over jon. we've seen him when he's angry at jon, this isn't how he acts, he gets shouty and indignant but never violent. I'd even go as far as to say he doesn't do it in 173 because he's genuinely upset at jon and the situation they're in, and it would never occur to him to deliberately inflict pain on someone he cares about to assert control over them. the connecting line between all of them is fear from something that he wants jon to help him handle. the apocalypse starts, he is stuck inside one of his worst nightmares, and he's paranoid that the web took control of him. he's someone who is "always following, never leading" (170), and he gets tunnel vision when something scares him and his "leader" isn't there.

jon did need to be pulled out of all three of those situations, and words proved insufficient, and maybe a quick jolt of pain was the only thing that could have worked, but martin doesn't seem to consider what that would feel like from jon's pov. in my experience of relationships, if there's ever an unavoidable emergency where you do actually need to cross a line that you never would otherwise, you talk about it afterwards. you do a debrief where you say "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't see another way, I'll try and be better prepared next time." they do this for problems they have later on (177, 198), but martin doesn't do that here. jon's point-of-view just doesn't seem to occur to him. when jon expresses discomfort, he drops the tactic without a word; later, when he needs to anchor jon in the panopticon, he talks him through it before it can get too far. so, it's not about a lack of care for jon's feelings.

I think it comes down to a few things: a) his occasional tendency to treat people as a means to an ends and not think about their perspective. he's so glued to putting others first most of the time that when he stops, he can't find a middle ground and forgets that other people can have feelings about his actions. b) his problems with conceiving of himself as a person of any importance who is capable of doing anything, especially of doing harm. as a concept, "hurting jon" is the thing he would least like to do in the whole world, it is his nightmare scenario and literally the culminating moment of his tragedy. he finds it almost unthinkable, so the idea that he does it casually when he's scared doesn't cross his mind. one of his central worries at this point is that jon is now so powerful that he no longer needs martin, how could he hurt someone like that? he's not anywhere near a comparable level of importance, it's not like he has his own domain that he's not aware of because jon told him about it and he immediately rejected the information. he's powerless and could never bring himself to hurt the man he loves.

I just. think it's an interesting microcosm of some of the lows of their relationship. once the problem is discovered martin instantly takes the note and doesn't put it on jon to explain himself further or assuage his guilt, they are willing and able to adapt, but it still comes from some of their bedrock flaws. martin doesn't understand that he can hurt people, and jon has such an inflated understanding of his capacity to hurt people that it sabotages his self-worth and his ability to respond to pain and displeasure.

[koyagifs]

could u make a part two of cruel summer where yn dies with her beloved yunho by her side and the aftermath of yeosang and the girl finding out through yunho that they killed yn? im sorry if it’s too much to ask i just really love tragic soulmates with bad ending stories <3

i miss you, i'm sorry

pairing:: yunho x reader x yeosang au:: soul mate | genre:: angst with no comfort synopsis:: august came and went, leaving behind a bitterness that followed yunho. word count :: 1.8k warning(s):: mentions of hospital, death. altercation between yunho and yeosang.

Yunho stared at the grave, the wind lashing against him like punishment, as if the world itself couldn’t bear the weight of what it had taken. His jaw trembled, his fists clenched at his sides, and still he refused to let the tears fall — not yet.

Time had been so cruel. So unforgiving.

It gave him just enough. Just enough time to fall deeper. Just enough time to imagine a future. Just enough time to lose it all.

You deserved more. More than a borrowed summer. More than fleeting warmth after all the heartache you'd endured. He had wanted to give you everything — peace, love, the kind of happiness you used to speak about when you were still hopeful.

And now, all he had left was silence.

He crouched down, his fingers tracing your name carved into the cold stone. The ache in his chest hadn’t dulled since the day he watched you close your eyes for the last time.

“I hope… wherever you are, you finally feel free,” he whispered. “I hope it doesn't hurt anymore.”

His tears finally fell, quiet and unrelenting. Because the world kept moving — but his had stopped with you.

-

Yunho wanted nothing more than to disappear. To melt into the background, to vanish from the suffocating room filled with congratulations and champagne flutes.

He only came because Mingi had dragged him out, insisting the fresh air would do him some good. “You’ve been cooped up too long,” he had said. “Just one night out, for me.”

At first, Yunho agreed. He thought maybe being around people again would ease the heavy ache in his chest. But Mingi had conveniently left out the most important detail — that the outing was actually Yeosang’s engagement party.

Now, Yunho sat on the edge of the plush couch, his jaw tight, fists clenched against his knees. Rage, hot and bitter, burned in his stomach as he watched Yeosang smile across the room, his arm around his fiancée, the picture of contentment. The same man who had once turned his back on the girl Yunho loved more than life itself.

Mingi, sensing the shift in him, tried to keep him grounded, talking about anything and everything — the food, the music, the weather — but Yunho could barely hear it over the roar in his ears.

This was the man who made her feel like she wasn’t enough.

This was the man who walked away while she was dying.

And now he got to smile like he hadn't shattered something beautiful.

Yunho swallowed hard, standing up abruptly.

“I need air,” he muttered.

Mingi reached for him but paused when he saw Yunho’s expression — tightly wound pain masked with barely-contained fury.

“Yunho—”

“I’m going outside,” Yunho said, his voice sharp and clipped. “Don’t follow me.��

Mingi gulped, leaning back into the couch with an awkward chuckle as Yeosang shot him a questioning glance. Before anyone could say more, Yeosang’s fiancée stood, placing a gentle hand on Yeosang’s arm.

“I’ll be right back,” she said quietly, and without waiting for a response, followed Yunho out the door.

The sound of it closing behind her made Yunho sigh, already frustrated. “Mingi, I told you not to—”

“Hi,” a soft voice interrupted.

Yunho turned slowly, his jaw tight. She was standing there, smiling—too sweetly, too casually for someone who had no idea of the weight she carried.

His entire body stiffened. The sight of her—the woman Yeosang had chosen—only stirred the fury that had been simmering beneath the surface.

He didn’t smile back. He didn’t speak.

He just stared, and with every second that passed, the anger in his eyes grew darker.

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot—”

“We didn’t,” he cut her off coldly.

She let out a small scoff. “Look, I’m trying to be nice and you just—”

“I don’t care,” he snapped. “So fuck off.”

She scoffed, shoving Yunho away before storming back inside. Yunho didn’t follow—not at first. He stood there, jaw clenched, breathing hard. But when he finally stepped back in, it was only to grab his keys.

The sound of her muffled crying hit him like a slap. She was already in Yeosang’s arms, her voice cracking as she tried to explain. Confusion spread across the room like wildfire—eyes turning, whispers rising.

Then Yeosang turned, fury written across his face.

“What the fuck is your problem, Yunho?” he barked, marching up before shoving him hard.

Yunho stumbled back a step, then shoved Yeosang right back—harder. Yeosang staggered, and San and Wooyoung surged forward to catch him.

“My problem?” Yunho spat, voice breaking with rage. Angry tears welled in his eyes, burning hot as they slipped down his cheeks.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa were instantly between them, hands up, trying to hold the space. Mingi clung to Yunho’s arm, trying to pull him back, but Yunho jerked away.

“My problem is you,” Yunho growled, staring Yeosang down. “You fucking killed her. You killed her and now you stand here, throwing parties and pretending like nothing happened. Like you're not the reason she died.”

The room fell silent, the air sucked out completely.

“You left her when she needed you the most,” Yunho hissed, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “And now you get to move on like she never existed? Like she meant nothing? Fuck that. Fuck you.”

Yeosang’s face drained of color, his grip tightening protectively on his fiancée’s arm.

“Kill her?” Hongjoong asked cautiously, stepping forward, his voice low in an attempt to defuse the tension. “Yunho, what are you talking about?”

Yunho’s eyes didn’t leave Yeosang. “Should I tell them, or will you?” he asked coldly.

Yeosang looked away, shame flickering across his face. He turned slightly as if to walk off, but Yunho wasn’t going to let him escape this time.

Without hesitation, Yunho’s fist flew through the air, slamming into Yeosang’s jaw with a sickening crack.

A collective gasp rippled through the room as Yeosang stumbled back, crashing to the floor.

The room froze.

Yeosang lay on the ground, stunned, his lip split and bleeding. Gasps echoed from every corner of the room, but no one moved—no one dared. Yunho stood over him, chest heaving, eyes blazing with betrayal and grief.

“Yunho!” Mingi shouted, grabbing his arm, but Yunho yanked it free.

"You don't get to walk away from this," Yunho seethed, staring down at Yeosang, who slowly sat up, wiping the blood from his mouth. “Not when she died thinking you hated her. Not when you ignored every cry for help.”

"Yunho, stop—" Seonghwa stepped forward, but Yunho wasn’t finished.

“You want to play house? Throw parties? Smile for pictures? Fine. But don’t you dare act like you're innocent.”

Yeosang finally looked up at him. “You think I don’t feel guilty?”

Yunho laughed bitterly. “You feel guilty? She died because she thought you didn’t love her anymore. She wrote you a letter, Yeosang. She apologized for being your soulmate.”

That landed heavier than the punch. Yeosang’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Yunho shook his head, tears falling freely now. “You should’ve been the one in that hospital bed. Not her.”

And with that, he turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him—leaving a room full of stunned silence and one broken man on the floor.

Yeosang held a pack of ice to his swollen lip as the room fell silent, everyone waiting for an explanation. Curiosity buzzed in the air—everyone but Mingi.

“Ready to explain what the hell just happened, or are you going to keep it a secret?” Hongjoong asked, his voice sharp.

Yeosang’s fiancée sighed, breaking the silence. “Yunho said that I killed Yeosang’s soulmate…”

“Yeosang has a soulmate?” San’s eyes widened with surprise and a flicker of hope.

Mingi swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeosang had a soulmate…”

All eyes locked on Mingi. “What do you mean? You knew?” Wooyoung pressed, stepping closer.

Mingi nodded slowly, pain flickering across his face as Yeosang’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Her name was Yn.”

The boys’ eyes widened, silence hanging heavy for a few moments before Jongho finally broke it. “You don’t mean the same Yn that Yunho’s been crushing on since they met at the opening of his coffee shop?”

“The same Yn that Yunho literally has her order memorized, and it’s in the training manual so when people hear her name, they give her coffee for free,” Seonghwa added.

Mingi and Yeosang exchanged a glance before Yeosang spoke quietly, “Our markings appeared when we first met her a year ago… at the very first hangout.”

“So what the fuck happened then?” Wooyoung demanded.

“That dickhead over here refused to give Yn a chance. Barely acknowledged her. Then Yn got the news that she was dying,” Mingi said, crossing his arms tightly.

“That’s… possible?” Hongjoong asked, his brow furrowed in disbelief.

Mingi nodded slowly. “So Yn, being the sweetheart she is, asked for a chance to be actual soulmates this past summer. First date? Yeosang leaves her alone at the zoo.”

Yeosang shot a sharp glare at Mingi. “How the fuck do you know this?”

Mingi met his gaze evenly. “Yunho’s my best friend. Who else would he vent to?”

Yeosang stayed silent, shifting the ice pack against his lip as he scooted closer to his fiancée.

Mingi cleared his throat, his voice low but steady. “After some convincing, Yn finally gave up on Yeosang. Yunho and her dated for maybe a month before she was admitted to the hospital. They told her she had until August.”

Everyone fell silent, the weight of Mingi’s words hanging heavily in the air.

“She died just last week...” Mingi said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind him.

Yunho lay on his bed, face streaked with dried tears, his arms wrapped tightly around an old sweater you used to wear. The fabric was worn, edges fraying, but your scent still clung to it — warm, familiar, achingly comforting.

A whimper escaped him, raw and quiet, before his shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. The pain he had been holding back for days — maybe even weeks — spilled out in broken sobs as he clutched the sweater tighter to his chest.

It wasn’t just grief. It was guilt. Regret. Love. All of it tangled into one unbearable knot that he couldn’t untie.

“I was supposed to protect you,” he choked out, tears wetting the fabric. “I should’ve done more… I should’ve—”

But there were no answers. No second chances. Just a cold room, an old sweater, and a memory he could never hold again.

taglist: @soso59love-blog @yeosionist @bbokarismeow

[vxlvted]

!! MDNI !!

“Intimidating”

warnings: smut, anal (reader fucks him with a dildo), reader calls minho “good boy”, mentions of filming during sex, mentions of exhibitionism, i think that’s all

a/n: this is just something random. idk what i’m doing to be honest 😭 this is the first time i’ve ever actually posted something i’ve written so enjoy !

Lee Know was trembling, his back pressed against Y/N’s chest and his entire body a flushed, quivering mess. She had him completely at her mercy—one hand on his slick, oversensitive length while the other worked a toy in and out of him at an unrelenting pace.

His head lolled to the side, his lips parted as breathy moans spilled freely. He had cum three times already, each one leaving him more wrecked than the last. Every touch sent a mix of pleasure and pain coursing through him, making his thighs shake uncontrollably.

“N-no more,” He whined, his voice cracking as tears swelled at the corners of his eyes. His hands were clenched into fists, gripping the sheets beneath him to ground himself.

Y/N paused her movements as she leaned closer, her warm ghosting over his ear as she whispered, “C’mon baby.. just one more. You can do that for me, right?” Her tone both sweet and commanding.

Minho let out a broken whimper, his head falling back against her shoulder as he nodded weakly. “Y-yeah…” he mumbled, though his body was trembling from overstimulation.

Y/N pressed a soft kiss behind his ear and her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Good boy,” she praised, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her hand on his length started moving again, drawing out every ounce of sensitivity he had left.

Next to them sat Y/N’s phone, propped up against a pillow where they had left it. The movie they put on long forgotten. Y/N couldn’t help but think about how the camera was capturing everything perfectly through the reflection in the mirror that sat across from the bed. It wasn’t recording—at least not this time—but the idea of watching him come undone in her arms was intoxicating.

Her lips brushed low against his ear again, her tone low and teasing as she whispered, “What would people think if they saw you like this, hmm?”

Minho’s cheeks burned at her words, a shaky moan escaping him as he shivered and shook his head in denial. He was being louder than usual, unrestrained cries of pleasure filling the room. Everytime he had tried to cover his mouth, Y/N had gently pulled his hands away, insisting she wanted to hear everything.

“Oh-so dominant, intimidating, Lee Minho,” She continued, moving her hands faster. Minho let out a strangled cry, his hips jerking upwards as his head fell forward.

“Falling apart like this.” She added, her voice laced with amusement and pride.

Minho’s head shook weakly, his front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to silence himself. But when she angled the toy just right, twisting the toy inside him just enough to brush against his prostate, he couldn’t hold back.

“Ah—Fuck!” He moaned loudly, his voice echoing in the room as his back arched. He could feel himself getting closer to his climax.

“I should record this and show it to everyone,” Y/N teased, her tone playful yet sultry. “Let them see how easily I can make you fall apart in front of me.”

Her words pushed him over the edge. A broken cry leaving his throat as his entire body shuddered. His fourth and final release came hard and fast, leaving him completely spent and trembling in her arms.

He slumped against her, gently placing a hand the wrist that was wrapped around his dick. Y/N gently eased the toy out of him, her touch now soft and soothing. She placed the toy beside them on the bed and pressed a kiss to his temple, her arms wrapping around him protectively as she whispered, “You’re so amazing. So perfect for me.”

He didn’t have the strength to respond, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. But the way he nuzzled back against her, his fingers still weakly grabbing her arms, told her everything he needed to know.

[classica-meretrix]

Maintenance

pairing: tech x fem!reader genre: fluff(?) content/warnings: suggestive, use of y/n summary: while helping tech with a wiring issue, things get a little. . . heated a/n: based on s1 e8 "reunion" of bad batch, don't love the ending but someone might so I left it!

“Y/N, I need you on the bridge.” Tech’s voice was wrapped in static, making his words crack as they came over the com-link.

“I’ll be right there,” I replied. I turned back towards the center of the room, abandoning my work gathering explosives. “Tech needs me,” I called to the others. “I’m going to the bridge.”

I hurried out of the armory, making my way to the top of the ship. When I got there the blast doors to the bridge appeared to have been forced open. I was silently impressed that Tech had managed them without the brute force of Wrecker or the mechanical help of Echo.

“Tech?” I called into the room.

“Over here,” he responded, his voice slightly strained.

I found him on his back under the main control desk, one leg folded, the other lying open to one side. He had his visor down, sparks flying from whatever he was working on.

“What do you need me for?”

He muttered something under his breath before properly answering me. “I’ve managed to get the power back on, but I can’t access the computer. There’s a sensor I can’t bypass.”

“Okay, slide out and let me have a look.”

“I can’t.” His hands stopped tinkering with the control panel as he turned to look at me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. He flipped up his visor, sliding off his helmet. “The sensor was badly damaged when the Jedi were attacked. I have to hold these wires or it’s no use to you.”

“Fine,” I huffed, dropping to the floor. I cautiously slid between his legs, placing a hand on either side of his abdomen. I tried to ignore our close proximity, turning just enough to see the sensor.

“I’ll need your torch.” I failed to keep my voice even, wavering as I spoke. He used his free hand to offer me the tool. He was unusually quiet.

“Okay, hold on. I need both hands.” I laid my weight on him, flipping over the rest my back against his chest.

Tech’s breath was coming in short bursts, the plastoid-alloy material of his armor pressing into me. I took the torch, hurriedly working to override the sensor. In any other circumstance Tech would’ve been unhelpfully lecturing me on what to do, or talking my ear off about something entirely unrelated. Now he just held the wires in place, occasionally clearing his throat my ear.

“Almost done,” I informed. I set down the torch, flipping back over to grab a pair of pliers. In the process I locked eyes with Tech, his pupils blown as he struggled not to pant. I hurriedly flipped back over, accidentally pressing my leg against the crotch of his armor. He sighed at the contact, his eyes closing.

“Fuck, sorry,” I mumbled, working even faster to disable the sensor.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice rough and low.

I fumbled with the wires, struggling to remember which one to cut. I felt like I was burning, and I’m sure my face was flaming red.

“The blue one,” he reminded, taking notice of my fumbling. I was too focused on the way his voice rumbled in my ear, his breath on my neck, to process what he said right away, my actions delayed.

“Right,” I mumbled. As I cut the wire, an idea came to me. I shifted my hips, ‘accidentally’ rolling them against his crotch. He breathed out a series of curses.

“What are you doing?” His voice was warning, but his free hand came to my hip, holding me in place.

“Fixing the sensor. Like you asked,” I teased, moving again, ever so slightly.

“Don’t tease,” he chided. I had never heard him sound so harsh before. His lips now grazed the shell of my ear, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“I don’t take orders from you.” I knew what I was doing was dangerous, but that hardly mattered anymore. The sensor was almost completely forgotten.

Tech slid his hand from my hip to the edge of my shirt, slipping under the fabric to splay his hand on my skin. His armor was cool and smooth, save the thin lines of carbon residue from old blaster fire.

“Then I’ll just have to teach you,” he hissed in my ear. I cut the last wire. The sensor would be easily bypassed now, but neither of us moved.

“I’d like to see you try.” His hand slipped to the edge of my pants as he placed a chaste kiss on my neck, pushing my head to one side. He continued his assault, nipping at my skin as I whimpered. He had just reached my shoulder, his fingers slipping under the edge of my waistband when loud thuds came from the doorway.

“Well, well, well! What do we have here?” Wrecker’s voice echoed throughout the bridge, making it even louder than normal. Tech’s hand flew off of me, his head falling back as we both jumped. I hit my head against the bottom of the control table in an attempt to move away from him, forgetting the lack of space.

“Fuck!” I cursed, my hand flying to my forehead. Tech instinctually pulled me back down to his chest, holding me against him.

“Slide out,” he whispered to me. The others' footsteps were getting louder. I did as he said, him following shortly behind me.

“Sorry, were we interrupting something?” Wrecker questioned, a teasing smile plastered on his face as he giddily rocked back and forth on his heels.

“No,” Tech replied, his usual sarcastic tone returning. “Just injuring a fellow soldier.” He turned to me. “Are you alright?”

“I think so.”

“Let me look at it.” Hunter stepped forward, gingerly removing my hand to look at the mark.

“Hey, what’s that blinking light?” Omega asked, pointing to the control desk.

“It detects other ships approaching,” Tech explained. “Probably just a malfunction.”

Just as he finished talking three empire ships flew over the bridge, shaking the cruiser.

“We need to go,” Hunter stated, grabbing Omega’s arm.

We had just gotten to the base of the engine and Tech was already going on about the technological marvels of their craftsmanship. He ran his finger along the metal.

“The blast primer coating was specially designed to withstand temp—“

“Shut up!” Wrecker yelled, pushing him forward.

“Save it for your wet dreams, why don’t you?” I teased, sliding off a ring and landing beside him.

A few yards up Omega turned to Hunter. “What’s a wet dream?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, shooting us a glare over his shoulder as he hurried Omega forward. Wrecker let out a booming laugh as he ran to catch up. I made to follow but Tech caught my arm, pulling me back. He left very little room between us, ducking down to whisper in my ear.

“My wet dreams have nothing to do with blast coatings. In fact, they often resemble our little encounter on the bridge.” He pulled back, giving me a cheeky smirk before running to catch up with the group, leaving me stunned.

[solsilverpine]

If you write autistic!Venom/autistic!Eddie I will love you forever!!

Hey Anon, I don’t know when I will get to writing this because I accidentally wrote a novel length fic for Star wars Rebels which is my main project rn, but here are some of my ideas I have jotted down to explore when I get a chance to write it!

[Edit: I actually wrote this reply before TLD came out and am writing a short fic for that so I will have a little something out soon but not this one]

I have a lot of ideas for them. There is exploring the big things like noise and fire that can hurt them both, as well as similar stimuli. Does venom associate being unnaturally warm in that way one can when exposed to synthetic heat (like a heater) with fire? Does light sensitivity ever push one of them, or both of them, into a state of panic? What ways can they find to make these things less scary? Do they explore music, cool sunglasses, lava lamps?

Then theirs the little ways they interact while Eddie is working. I like to think venom would hover and try to make sure Eddie is having food or water or coffee, but also bounce ideas or add a new perspective, trying to figure out what he needs before he needs it.

But also I’d love to explore the intimacy of their existence as them. They’ve both felt like outsiders, individuals who think or feel or react in a way that’s against the norm. This is probably the first time either of them haven’t had to mask, hide their thoughts, the first time they can just…exist with someone else. And exist with themselves.

And the quite moments of simply sitting, thinking about nothing. The deep existential conversations that offer insight into how each view the world. The hyper-focus google spirals at 3am, pausing movies so they can talk about their thought on it, on something seemingly unrelated or so they can google an actor. The moments of Eddie wanting to show venom things, foods, experiences. To share his joys and passions and heartbreaks. To explore the thrill and excitement and the feeling of ‘us’ and ‘good’ and ‘right’ that come with fighting bad guys.

Then there’s their romance, which I like to think is so much bigger then love or lust. Its bliss, its rapture, is the feeling of being know, being seen, being whole. Its the two of them breaking apart and coming back together so many time they don’t know where one of them starts and the other ends, because for them that boundary need not exist at times like this. It’s the invention of a new language spoken with teeth and tongues and just the right amount of pressure that the two of them create to say what they can’t put into words.

I think so often about how the entire reason the two of them have their fight in Let there be Carnage is because they both care about each other more then they care about them selves. They both want to protect people, but more then that they want to protect their other half, this person they love and care for and its so complicated at times, but really it’s very simple.

I have so many thoughts and ideas I could talk about them for ages. But I also know my head cannons are based around how I experience the world, which for me is often so intense that I struggle to make it small enough to put it into thoughts and words. They might not necessarily be relatable to anyone else.

Anyways I’m sorry this took me a while to get to and that it turned out a little long but I would definitely like to turn it into a proper fic when I get the time/spoons. 🖤🩶🤍

[milkywayy102]

hear me out: "No Longer You" animatic but w/ chara as odysseus and the riverperson as the prophet (and clover as penelope)

!! Spoilers for undertale pacifist and genocide route !!

to elaborate: i got epic the musical stuck in my head one day (specifically no longer you) and thought of a comment i'd off-handedly made to my friend in a discord call. i'd said "what if epic the musical, but with undertale?" and then just sorta brushed past it bc it was just something i had in my head at the time and i have a habit of just spitting out whatever comes in my mind

so then as i was listening to no longer you i thought "huh... what if someone animated this, but with undertale?" and so, my brain being as hyperactive as it is, got straight to work on that idea

you like cocoapowder? alright, that's gonna be put in. these lyrics match up with certain parts of the lore? boom, done. you want the first half to talk about paci and the second to be about geno like you're doing rn in your playthrough of utr&y? done.

soo, to explain what my brain came up with, i will just be copy-pasting the summary i gave to a friend (same friend i mentioned the ut x etm to) over to this post, then try to explain anything that might be unclear/kinda confusing. I was picking out specific lyric chunks and explaining what i thought up for each scene so this might seem a little odd/unorganized. sorry bout that

also this will have my input while i was texting it, so just disregard it if it bothers you. i just want to let ppl know my entire thought process. and i do have my name and pfp blocked out, along with other unrelated messages, so don't be alarmed by that

^ this is (mostly) abt the first part of the song, aka what i think would be more so abt the pacifist route. this includes chara's backstory and their death since (i'm pretty sure) paci is the only route we learn their full backstory from.

^ this right here might be a bit confusing. i forgot to talk about the part in between the repeating lyrics, so it is put AFTER the yapping about the second. but basically the part in between would talk about how chara's palace was covered in red (dust) and their ppl think they're dead, etc. etc. it's mentioned up there. then clover is shown talking to flowey and i imagined them (clover) reaching their hand out as they're both seemingly talking as if they're about to shake flowey's hand or something (sorry, this isn't very descriptive but that's the only way i can think of it ToT). then for second it would show genocide rather than pacifist, showing the change between the two and how it affects both clover and chara.

But yeah, this is just sort of a silly idea i had. also as you can tell i haven't figured out EVERYTHING yet, that's why i'm posting this as a (maybe) animatic idea for anyone who wants it, or just to read as an interesting idea(?)

really sorry nothing makes sense T-T it was made entirely in my head and i unfortunately can't draw so here's to anyone who is interested in reading all this. props to you.

[tarochimochi]

Winner Gijinka redesign! I like to think they swap between the skirt and pants depending on the challenge.

Uh I don’t know why I thought their old design was ever okay to bestow on human eyes!

Cut below the entire design process (it’s gonna be long)

So I knew immediately after finishing my Loser design I wanted Winner to be the opposite of Loser. Which ment no warm colors, no vest sleeveless thing, no sunglasses, esc. I wanted them to be 80s inspired to match my Loser’s 70s Inspiration! I wanted them to parallel Loser by being so different but the same at the same time. So I wanted to do alot.

I think very clearly with the first ever winner draft (on the right) I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING LOL. I really don’t like it now looking back and it really doesn’t feel like Winner to me. I think just to show how old this is, this was before I even made established age headcanons so I also had no idea how older I wanted Winner to be.

That age headcanon list will probably be shown at another time, I think I showed it once on instagram after somebody asked.

The one on the left I did right after I finished my Loser design and oh my god I also really hate it looking back. I had this idea that Winner’s hair could be the opposite of Loser’s hair where instead of being from like brown to blond and lighter blond it would be the opposite and oh it looked horrible to me.😭

I think also at this point Winner was still just black and not biracial

Now here are what I would call my “Stuck in design hell”. Characters I struggle with immensely when creating a design I think fits/I personally also like for them. It doesn’t mean I have no ideas, some of them I know exactly what I want to do with them but can’t figure out how to emulate it. I ended up abandoning Winner for awhile because they were giving me so many problems because I set so many restrictions for myself which weren’t exactly working.

So then we got this.. I tried to force myself to finalize their design on the spot… bad idea.. worse idea I could ever fathom. I don’t like any of these designs and plus the way I draw now has changed since I made these designs. I had an idea that Winner’s arm could also be translated as one of those super cool arm grabber toys from the 80s which I don’t know, maybe I’ll bring back?? Depends on how I feel about it after focusing on writing more Winner central stories and exploring Winner more as a character and talking to people who really like Winner.

I should also note the inspo for Winner in the fluffy coat and overalls came from the fact that when I was in the movie theater, I saw a kid wearing black overalls and periwinkle jacket and went “HOLY SHIT WINNER TPOT.”

Somewhat unrelated but in this design Winner also became Biracial because @/exitstudent was like “Oh Winner feels afro-Latino to me” so I changed my headcanon almost immediately. This is why I probably shouldn’t have put my race hc chart out so early because my opinions get swayed so easily PLUS I changed a few things around. (Nothing to major, Snowball and Spongey are Wasian now, Donut is Dutch, put Bomby back in Blasian, Gaty is Finnish)

I also had the idea that instead of Winner having highlights (because I highly doubt Winner would go out of their way to highlight their hair) their greying really early on due to stress and poor genetics probably. Another cool parallel to Loser about how Loser’s hair is something he essentially paid for Winner in a way earned theirs. Loser also bleaching pretty much all their hair would also be a cool symbolism for how he’s not the truest to himself while Winner’s still having almost all their natural hair color is symbolism for them being way more true to themself. But that’s for another day to explore.

I tried to interpret Winner’s shape as being kind of like fuzzy fleece on their jacket and I tried to make this work so bad but I really shouldn’t have. I was just all over the place with the colors too.

After design a bunch of the other characters and finding and discovering new ways i like drawing i quickly figured out why I was hating Winner so badly.

It was everything 😭

So after actually after researching 80s fashion instead of half assing it to make it obvious. I drew up these two concepts.

My first realization was “Wow that fleece is ugly as shit.” So I realized I had to stop trying making the fleece work, kudos to anyone who can. But away from the negatives, I really did love the big black Jacket and the legwarmers (I am a sucker for leg warmers so once I put them in them, it was over for me) Something about the headband also struck me because previously I out a strict “no head accessories rule” but honestly? It really just had to be not sunglasses so the headband stayed.

With some color rework and some help from my qpp (Shout out to her, she doesn’t use social media.) We were finally able to get the current design shown!

I guess if I learned anything from this, people should make gijinkas also based off people they know and see in day to day life. Some of my favorite gijinkas are based off people I know. Like Match being an Afro-Chilean Jew is because my friend who actually introduced me to BFDI was a huge match fan, and an Afro-Chilean Jew so I was inspired to make Match look almost identical to them. With Winner I pulled inspiration from alot of popular Black celebrities in the 80s and Chile again because of said friend 80s.

Thanks for reading this whole kuffuffle here’s some bonus doodles!

Yes Winner is going to crush Loser and Clock, stop them.

The last winclock one may or may not be a reference to something.

Now who’s next? Honestly just whoever people want a ref of next, I think I’m a little burnt out from doing now 59 characters and drafting more currently I think I need a break. Although I’m definitely gonna redesign Clock’s outfit, I’m really starting to dislike it. Until next time bye bye!!

[lavenderek]

Will you ever finish do you know? Or is it done?? No pressure either way! I just love it so much ❤️

odds aren't looking so good. sorry guys lmao

might as well tell you how it ends

i've lost my notes because my old laptop doesn't turn on anymore, but from what little i can remember, there was some kind of argent-adjacent group whose goal was to figure out how to prevent werewolves and other shifting creatures from happening in the first place. so they were doing tests on the ones they captured. essentially, magic eugenics. uh-oh, evil, spooky. these were the guys who tried to break in.

it's obvious sam was afraid of delilah. it was going to eventually become clear that this is because he caught a glimpse of her at his window the night a "ghost" came. but it would later turn out he saw her talking to the person who tried to get in through the window. she had nothing to do with that person. sam was mistaken on account of being a toddler. womp womp (does L on forehead)

delilah was a transparent red herring. she honestly was just a nomad passing through, and saw the attempted break-in while on a jog through the woods. she chased that person off, but in general she had no desire to get involved. she just wanted to prevent local packs from growing hostile to her. but english wasn't her first language. it was all a communication issue a-hyuck! she also didn't enjoy stiles, which was entirely unrelated.

stiles was going to get into Danger solving the mystery, going against derek's wishes. although he'd get away all right, this would damage their relationship. derek was like, you can't go out and do this detective bullshit, it's not just you anymore. he felt stiles was chasing the feeling of excitement from his youth, inconsiderate of the fact that he had children relying on him. and stiles was sincerely offended that derek was taking zero initiative to proactively protect his family. yk.

but they'd get over it and win somehow. i don't remember how. in the background of all this, scott and lydia would fall in love.

i wanted to finally end the series because the idea of a slice of life fic where these OC children were in like, middle school didn't interest me; and i wanted to end it with something interesting to make up for the boring, meandering nature of the fic in general. but three things happened:

first, i got a new job with an hour long commute one way, so i lost a significant amount of free time and energy; second, i entered an artistic block from which i never really recovered; and third, i realized a complete departure from the tone of the fic was actually a dumb idea because it's not remotely what the readers signed up for lmao. how does this realistic depiction of postpartum depression fit in with the joking depiction of a c-section at a vet's office? and besides, people will only read about a couple experiencing and then moving past marital problems so many times anyway.

but i held out hope. i was like, one day i'll be inspired to write again and i'll be able to address these problems, so i shouldn't give away spoilers. then as time passed, i was like, i shouldn't tell them about these lame plans and reveal that my fic only seemed good because the market was flooded.

anyway i figured i might as well finally explain myself. sorry for all this. and from the bottom of my ass, thank you so much for your support and kindness. my time in the fandom was sincerely some of the best years of my life. all of you are wonderful, wonderful.

in case you're curious, as teenagers: zdzisława refused to go by any other name in school, forcing teachers to learn polish phonetics; sam was on the autism spectrum and got into art; vern was prom king; and some chick at their school would manifest magic powers at midnight on her sixteenth birthday. hijinks similar to the movie teen witch happened, involving vern but completely peripheral to any of our other main characters.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for pulling my younger brother from his bedroom for "sleepovers" in the living room in the middle of the night?

I hate how clickbaity that is, but it really is the most succinct way I can try to paraphrase this. I have submitted here before for similar reasons, so this setup may or may not sound vaguely familiar, but this is pretty self-contained as a separate issue, I think. Quick preface- I am one of four siblings. Ages aren't particularly important for this, save for the fact that the oldest three are within a handful of years of each other, while our youngest is several years our junior. I was 11 when he was born, for reference. We'll call him C, and the two middle brothers A and B.

We somewhat recently (within the past few years) moved to a new house with a few more rooms, which shook up our previous sleeping arrangements. Now, instead of A, B, and C sharing the same room while I had my own for gender-related reasons, A gets his own space while B and C continue sharing a room. This means that my room no longer immediately across the hall from all three. A has a bit of a history of being loud in the middle of the night and getting mad when others ask, request, or tell him to be quiet, so this was a relief.

However, my new room is still just a few feet away from B and C, and now B is doing loud enough things to keep me awake- mainly playing video games and either not using headphones, constantly humming loudly along to the music playing, or saying something about the game. As a "bonus," he insists that C has to watch him play the entire time.

Even though this runs well into the early hours of the morning most nights.

And C still has early-morning school to worry about.

Previously, I'd just resigned myself to shutting up, jamming earplugs in my ears each night, and dealing with whatever weirdness is making one of my ears painfully itchy on a daily basis as a result. However, recently our parents started giving C flak for staying up late. They also made sure we knew they wanted B to stop keeping him up, but I'm not sure B actually knows or cares.

C and I did a bit of kvetching about unrelated topics today, this subject came up, C told me he doesn't enjoy being kept up that late either, and I had the idea that, should midnight come and go without B quieting down, I would interrupt whatever they're doing and "ask" C if he wanted to come sleep in the living room with me. I'm putting "ask" in quotations because I voiced this idea almost immediately, and C agreed this would be helpful just as quickly; me asking would serve solely as a way to have me interject into whatever B's doing and give C a quick way out.

At the same time, B can get touchy if he thinks C is brushing him off or I'm "butting in." I mean, C and I kinda will be doing both those things if we wind up needing to do this, but B seems intent on monopolizing as much of C's time and actions as he can get away with. I don't really think they need to fully stop interacting, but maybe B needs some time to himself instead of constantly wringing attention out of the baby of the family.

Then again, B is an adult. Like, legally. He'll be able to drink in a few months. He doesn't need to act like I'm interrupting his playtime with his favorite action figure whenever I remind him C isn't required to pay attention to him 24/7.

Idk. As far as sleeping arrangements in the living room would go, there's enough furniture to go around. I'm just not entirely sure if butting in would be an asshole move. Justified? Almost certainly, I think. An asshole move? That, I don't know. Whatever the case, I'm hoping these things work out quickly enough that we don't lose much more sleep. We're tired of finally managing to get to sleep at 3 AM.

What are these acronyms?

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2023 Day 17

Give someone a brand new look

Okay, I've had the idea for this one for quite a while!! Thank you Kloktober for giving me the excuse to write it.

With that said, please enjoy Toki giving Skwisgaar a brutal makeover~

“Ams you dones yet?” Skwisgaar asked, starting to get tired.

“No ways.” He heard Toki say. “Ams just getting startsteds.”

“Toke, ‘aves been heres for hoursk or twenties minutes.” Skwisgaar lowered his shoulders. “What ams you even doings?”

“Just shut ups and lets me works!” Toki told him off, though judging from the tone of his voice, he wasn’t angry.

Resigned, Skwisgaar reclined his back against the chair and kept strumming his guitar aimlessly. He was pretty sure he had been here all morning already, or at least it felt like it.

He was minding his business at the breakfast table when Toki ran up to him, telling him he needed him for something. Not quite believing the urgency Toki claimed there was, Skwisgaar followed him nevertheless, moderately curious.

When they reached Toki’s room, Toki had finally confessed he wanted to give him ‘a brutals make overs’ but he couldn’t say it in front of the rest because they would get jealous and would want one too. 

Skwisgaar had raised his eyebrow. “Amsnt makeovers for peoples to look bettors? I don’t needs one.” He frowned, preemptively offended by whatever Toki was trying to imply. “Your musk stash howevers-”

“But it ams goings to be totallies brutal!” Toki insisted, closing the distance between them with one step. “Please?” He stared at Skwisgaar with sad puppy eyes, way too close for comfort. “It wills be funs, Skwisgaar!”

Skwisgaar really hated when Toki looked at him like that, like his entire livelihood depended on this particular whim of his. “Eugh…” Fortunately for Toki, when it came matters unrelated to music, Skwisgaar was very easy to convince. “Fines.” He said, hoping he wouldn’t regret this.

…And here he was, not even allowed to open his eyes because Toki insisted on it being a surprise. Not like he could see himself with a mirror anyway, but Toki was being really stubborn about it. On the bright side, it was helping Skwisgaar practice his playing with eyes closed. He never knew when being able to play Dethklok’s entire discography with his eyes closed would come in hand. 

“Aw!” He whined when Toki pulled on his hair violently and without warning. 

Instead of apologizing, Toki scolded him instead. “Oh, you big babies!” Just as abruptly, he tugged a handful of hair from the lower part of Skwisgaar’s head

“What on Odin’s name ams you doingks?!” Skwisgaar frowned, almost opening his eyes out of annoyance.

“Ams givings you a brans new hairstyles!” Toki said, like the question was fucking stupid. “No mores of dat borings middle parteds hairs. You ams going to be a new Skwisgaar’s from now on!”

“I don’t wants to be a news-” His sentence was cut short by another pull. “Aw!” He moaned in pain. “Toki!”

“Why don’ts you tries takings a nap?” Toki sounded exasperated by now.

“Why don’ts you tries being nicers to my goldens mane?” Skwisgaar shot back. Toki didn’t reply, though he was more careful from his movements afterwards. Grumbling, Skwisgaar settled against the chair and started counting guitars. He was past a billions krillions when one of the guitars grew gigantic and swallowed him whole.

“Skwisgaar…” Something tapped his cheek and he slowly blinked his way out of dozing off.

“Eugh?” He managed, with a hoarse voice.

Toki was smiling at him. “Ams done.” He said and gave him a hand mirror. 

Quite disoriented still, Skwisgaar looked at himself in it and almost didn’t recognize the person staring back. 

His hair was tied into messy space buns, though one was visibly higher than the other and his part was made into a crooked zigzag. His lips were teal, a smudge on the corner of his mouth, shining with silver highlights. His eyelids, on the other hand, were hot pink and sort of uneven. Glittery purple blush adorned his cheeks and when Skwisgaar turned his head, he spotted holographic star stickers on the sides of his face. 

“Eugh…” Was the only thing he managed to say.

“You ams a space metal princes now!” Toki explained proudly and shoved his bear plush into Skwisgaar’s free hand. “And Deaddy Bears ams your princess whats you gots to save by killing aliens with the powers of metal!” He smiled at him. “You likes it?”

“Eugh…” Skwisgaar glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked like a lady. “Toki, dis ams…”

“Yes?” Toki nodded with expectation.

Skwisgaar grimaced, hoping his expression would be telling enough. “You knows…”

Clearly, Toki did not know because he kept waiting for him to say something. Skwisgaar noticed his fingers were stained with purple and teal, hands sparkly from the glitter. Next to him, the bed was full of make-up of a wide variety of colors: lipstick, eyeshadow, powder, mascara, lip gloss, stickers, etc. And also, a lot of drawings of the space guy he was supposed to be. Something about it tugged at his heartstrings, despite his better judgement. 

He sighed. “It ams pretties cool, I guess.”

Toki beamed at him, almost insufferably so. “Ams going to takes a picktures.” He said, grabbing the polaroid on his bed. “Says cheese!”

“Wait, Tok-”

The camera made a clicking sound and the photography came out of it soon after. A delighted Toki showed him the picture. “Amsnt it cools?” He asked.

Somehow, Toki had caught him in the split-second right before his expression twisted into concern and he tried futilely to reach for the camera. Instead, it almost seemed like a glamour shot of Skwisgaar’s new look. 

He raised his eyebrows with surprise. “Hey, dat amsnt so bads.”

Toki let out a chuckle, eyes glued to the photo. “Rights?”

Smiling fondly at him, Skwisgaar momentarily forgot what they were talking about. “Ja, it looks good.”

[wrongcaitlyn]

AHHHH I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE I SEND YOU TOO MANY ASKSMHFJGXJC BUT ANYWAYS- the greatest of luxuries takes place around 2018, right? Which is also coincidentally around the time tiktok got popular so just like hear me out-

Nico is a chronic tiktok user and definitely makes tiktok dances (he was supposed to use it for promotional purposes and it's not until Apollo asks him about it that he actually does)

Nico and Will are those tiktok friends, the kind that you see videos of and it just looks like they came straight out of a coming of age movie- same goes for whenever Leo is featured in Nico's tiktoks like they are so iconic

Apollo definitely gets tiktok for the shits and giggles, only to go accidentally viral constantly- like he could make one silly random tiktok of freaking alley cat he found and it'd get like 50 million likes 😭😭 (bros tiktok account consists of his children and their silly friends)

ANYWAYS HAVE A GOOD DAY 🫶🫶🫶🫶

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR TOO MANY ASKS I LITERALLY LIVE FOR THEM LIKE YES PLEASE ASK ME A MILLIION QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS AU THAT CONSUMES MY ENTIRE LIFELKSDF

and you are RIGHT OHMYGODSKLJF i keep thinking of a way to incorporate it bc rn they're in 2019, but i'm like, ahgsdf how do i bring in tiktok, do i make it a whole convo or just casually mention it orrrr

i do have quite a few tiktok headcanons in relation to them but i LOVE your ideas they're so real😭

these are the hc's that i had before reading this but tbh might have to go back to the drawing board on some of them becauseee i mean

(also i deleted tiktok a while back bc it was too addictive so tbh i have no idea what's going on over there anymore... nor was i there in the early daysSDLKF)

nico already strays away from social media quite a bit, and i think over the music industry changed, it's def encouraged for artists to like promote their music there and stuff. BUT. he has a bit of an addictive personality (relatable) and so when he eventually downloads it (because he would resist for a very long time) would get hooked. except he rarely posts, instead, he's that verified celeb account that you find in the most random comment sections and he spams all his friends with vids. he definitely gets a lot of pet videos i feel like, like the cute dogs and cats and he would send a vid of like yk YK WHAT VIDS IM TALKING ABOUT like two cats snuggling with each other or smth and send it to will with 'us' i just KNOW he would bc it's incredibly sappy but doesnt require too much descriptionsfkljs

he probably has 235829348 drafts and he mostly posts random stuff that's completely unrelated to his music. like i bet there would be a few people (when he occasionally says something related to his job) who didn't even know he released music despite definitely having heard it

i didn't really envision him doing tiktok dances eXCEPT maybe they all stay in his drafts. bc i dont think his vids would really be focused on *him* because he's not a huge fan of being on camera, so it'd more just be like those rants where you can only see his forehead or random studio vids oR TRAVEL VIDS WHILE ON TOUR. he would def do those. there's def some people who think he's a travel influencer and then find out he's a grammy award winning artist and are like ??? NICO?? FROM TIKTOK???

but he isn't called a "tiktok artist" despite some people knowing him from tiktok because he literally ALWAYS forgets to promote his own music in his vids. his fans are promoting it in the comment sections to try and get the people who think he's a travel influencer to listen to him😭

but his posting schedule is so very sporatic like he'll post ten vids in a day and then nothing for a month. it's fully based on vibes and is completely chaotic, just like everything else he does

will, like any other social media platform, has a private account. (nico also has a private spam) so will is that person who tags people in the comments like all the time (whereas nico sends it more often just bc he doesnt wanna risk being on the wrong account accidentally)

he appears a LOT on leo and lou ellen and cecil's tiktoks (and nico's) and every other week there's a huge internet search to find out who this guy is on a new famous person's tiktok account and then someone will be like "it's just will solace again HOW THE FUCK DOES HE ALWAYS FIND THESE PEOPLE"

like when he randomly shows up in taylor swift's getting ready for her nyu graduation post. like he's definitely there for a brief second in just like the reflection of a window or something and everyone goes CRAZY

before realizing it's this cryptid guy again who seems to be surrounded by every famous person to exist

he definitely posts a lot on his private account though and often it'll just be him rambling about something he's learned in class or him documenting every time he sees a cute animal in public

eventually he'll be dared to make a public account and he decides "haha that's funny okay sure it's not like anyone will find me"

WRONG. this guy is allergic to being not-famous. he will never be allowed to be a normal guy. his first video goes completely viral. he posts once in a blue moon, usually documenting his friends being crazy and every single time he does, it gets like a million views with people in his comments being "how does he know them???"

but you are DEFINITELY right about his account always seeming like it comes out of a coming of age story

and there are most definitely thousands of shippers in every single comment section with literally every friend. so he tries to have at least two other people in every single video so that people can't ship him with just one other person. but it's unavoidable. esp when he comes out as bi, people are just shipping him with ANYONE who shows up on his account

he also does those screaming lipsync vids to whenever a song by one of his favorite songs comes out he's a huge fanboy

OH and he gets to show off his vinyls there. he loves doing that. he's got so many and vinyl tiktok admires it.

also in every single video there's at least one comment that says "you look like apollo the singer"

EVERY SINGLE ONE

leo's the most active on tiktok, as he is with every other social media

it's either him building something, him setting something on fire, him with his friends, him talking to the camera while walking down the street (you know the genre of tiktok)

he is very similar to will in the aspect of "HOW DOES HE KNOW THEM??" but he's been a bit more public than will so people will know him more

he doesn't go viral as often as will (despite posting 132532x as much) but when he DOES it goes VIRAL viral. like tens of millions of views. it still happens quite often and he has the highest follower count of the friendgroup

and he's also the most active in comment sections like he's in every comment section you can't escape him and he replies to like every single one on his vids, usually with very cryptic responses that leave you with more questions than you started with

he ALSO tags will and nico in a bunch of videos, but not in a private account. he doesn't have a private account. he just tags them (obviously, avoiding any romance-related / stuff that could out them, in which he would send it to them) in EVERYTHING

and that's also the highest chance you have of will (on his public account) commenting on a video bc he's mostly on his priv

he also (when him and jason eventually come out) makes a million couple tiktoks and does all the trends

most recurring character in his vids are piper (and shel) (and will and nico over the summer when they're not so far apart)

apollo runs the account for delphi records

i know i haven't shared much of this BUT most people 100% assume that it's run by some intern or something bc of how casual it is but it's actually just him

he loves comment sections and hyping up all of his artists

oh BTW leo and will and apollo do all the promotion for nico because of how much he forgets about it

it's very common for nico to be posting a random ass video and then the top comment is Delphi Records ✓ Check out Nico's latest single, ______!

he also EVENTUALLY gets a tiktok for himself

that is just entirely his kids

as he should

aside from leo, i think kayla and piper are most active on tiktok

piper knows all the inner fandom details from shel (who has an editing account 100% bc i have an editing account and im projecting onto her)

piper's vids are mostly with leo they're such an iconic duo

idk why but all i can think of when thinking about piper is that her feed is like momona tamada?? like that's the vibe we're going for here

and ofc she promotes charities and other important topics there too!!!

and if there's a wlw trend going around yk that piper and shel are going to be on that first thing, probably the top video under whatever audio it is

and KAYLA. GOD. KAYLA'S TIKTOK IS SOOO ICONIC i think she's second to leo with most followers

the lip sync videos for sure, also out of all of them i think she'd def do tiktok dances she'd slay them all

and then some of them are just trends or her in the archery range

somewhat similarly to will, she often gets comments that say "how does she know them??"

but like a good 30% of people watching the archery events of the olympics are there just because of her tiktokSDLFKJS

she also happens to go viral. all. the fucking. time. like i swear apollo's kids just HAVE to go viral all the time they can't escape it they're made for fame and it's likeee kayla does love it (will not so muchKSDF and austin has avoided this problem by just not downloading tiktok at all! except apollo's video of him performing has gone viral. oh well.)

so those are my hc's feel free to add on to these!!! i would love to hear what y'all think bc AHGSDFL writing about these characters' social media is one of my favvv things to do - thank you for the ask!!!! sorry for the lengthy rambleKSDJF

[myhatisblue]

Guh part 3 is done at least for now. Will likely go back to all the parts and do a serious edit job when I'm done them all.

This place, and this current trip has already screwed me up in countless ways. You’d figure after all my work getting to this point that I’d charge right into the water…  But for some reason though, I found myself stuck on a long list of priorities that were more immediately important. 

While my clothes were full of holes, and tearing at the seams, cleaning them seemed most important to me right then and there… There’s no doubt that I’ll be in that water for a very, very long time once I’m in.  Having them clean and drying before that was the right order of operations. There it was again…  Always thinking with plans in mind, methods to make other moves easier… A level of forethought that seemed… strange, maybe it was always there and I was just goddamn blind.

Another note of this mental list I had going was that my brain had to be suffering just like everything else, it’s so much easier to ignore the problems going on there. Likely I wouldn’t know how fucked up I’d truely gotten till after I escaped. A task that still seemed like it was miles off.  My gut told me that all this unrelated shit was gonna build up to a plan when it came time to escape.  After all, it's becoming easier and easier to mold this land to my will.  

Though using those new found skills to make a coat rack out of bone to dry my clothes on felt a little bit absurd when objectively looked at. I did finally get use out of the flags I’d been collecting! While they were small on their own bundled together they made a great rag for cleaning the blood off. So at the very least my clothes won’t instantly get dirty again while drying.

Finally everything was prepared, I could finally take that plunge into the cool water I’d dreamt of for so long. It was heaven perfect in every way except for one single issue.  I’d let myself get a tad lost in the excitement of the moment… And well… I happened to chug down a huge mouthful of water. Yeah, I still had some left from my supplies, sure, but I wanted to soak all of this in, It was the result of all my hard work after all… 

That was stupid as fuck, I can’t even pretend it wasn’t.  It tasted like blood that should have been obvious given what It originally was, but there was something else entirely that came after it...  See there’s only so many ways to call something disgusting, and none of those words were enough to capture how fucking foul it was.  Blech, rotten egg, cow shit, a fucking landfill, the taste was worse than these smells lead you the imagine. While somehow being sweet, sour and bitter all at the same time. I barely managed to reach the beach before my stomach forcefully ejected everything inside of it. 

What a once in a lifetime experience, a fucking groundbreaking first for humanity@  I’d regret this day as long as I’d live. Not even the black rot that came after I tried to off was like this.  It’s too overwhelming, it shouldn’t fucking exist! The brief memory of it was enough to end my mind spiraling. No matter how hard I tried to keep it together, I ended up collapsing on to the beach body simply not listening to anything I had to say. Completely overtaken by an experience not intended for human kind.

I had no idea how long I’d been out… When I finally woke up again my brain felt like it’d been thrown in a washing machine. That was bad enough as is but my sight also wasn’t focusing right no matter how many times I blinked. It sounded like Ken was saying something but it wasn’t coming through. 

If there was a positive, most of the physical pain from the past weeks seemed to have melted away. The marks on my body were still there, but the worst of it seems to have passed.  It didn’t make sense… Water alone shouldn’t have treated that so quickly, how fucking long was I out for?? Before I could put much more thought into it a sharp pain radiated throughout my skull.

Things were getting hazy again. I vaguely remember dragging myself back to the water and spending a fair amount of time just silently floating there. Eventually getting dressed and just sitting there on the sand staring at the ocean.  My eye struggling to stay open.

“I could make a lot of jokes, but you look so goddamn pathetic that I think I’d actually feel bad.” 

Kenneth looked almost… concerned.  Jesus I must look worse than I feel.

“It’s fucked… Everything is.. Everything is still meat or blood, even if it looks or acts different…  All I’m doing is putting a carpet over the dirty floors.”

“Yep, sad to say humanity won’t be solving world hunger thanks to you.”

“...Why would you even think about that..”

“You really never thought about taking a steak out of the floor and cooking it off at some point?”

“No… No, I can’t say that I did.  That mouthful of water alone was worse than eating Descry’s heart.”

“Huh weird. Figured the heart woulda been a hundred times worse… hmmm… Oh! It was probably too busy was fucking all of your senses at the same time to give a single one time in the spotlight.”

“Urghhhhh.”

I pulled my knees closer, and held them close to my chest, I wanted to shrink, and disappear for a while. Pray that it’d be enough to forget, and stop my head from spinning. This was even after spitting out what I could, I didn’t even want to think about what kind of mess actually eating it would cause.

Kenneth on the other had stood oblivious to my plight. Casually tapping the side of his face next to me while he contemplated. 

“Or maybe your brain couldn’t even begin to comprehend that flavor till after you ate the heart. Now it has a point of reference kinda like how normal people can’t see the monsters of the void till their third eye is opened.  That’s pretty neat!”

“Glad one of us is enjoying this…”

“I’m always have a great time watching you fuck up.  It’s one of my favorite pastimes.

By the way… I get your going through an existential hellscape right now and likely don’t want to think about it at all but you should probably actually eat and drink something.  You’ve been out for a few days at this point.”

“You're right, I don’t want to think about that.”

“Well then, how about we make a trade.”

“What could you possibly have to trade? You're a glorified imaginary friend at this point.”

“Friend!?  Wow Mills so I’m flattered I could al-”

“God, stop.”

He was actually fucking smiling… While it seemed like a pretty apt description,  that reaction made me immediately regret saying it. It’s the kinda thing I know he’s gonna save for later and bring out at the worst possible time.

“Ruining my fun already, and I’m actually being nice.”

“Get to the point.”

“I saw what happened while you were getting in your beauty sleep. It’ll really be worth the investment.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you, if you get off your ass and get back to work.”

“Where’s the catch?”

“What, can’t believe that I even get bored? I might be a paragon of patience but even I’ve got my limits.”

“Fine, not like I’d planned on doing nothing forever.”

“Well then you missed a visitor.”

“Someone was here?”

“Yup, dressed in black, waterproof pants, a coat, gloves, rubber boots the whole works.   They also had a gas mask, and since everything was pretty baggy I couldn’t figure out if it was a guy or chick.”

“You're not kidding?”

“Not this time. They just walked up, gave you a once over, and made sure you were still breathing.  After that jabbed you with a few needles, took some blood, hair, and swabbed your mouth with a stick or something. Oh, they also poured a vial of blue liquid down your throat. I might have tried to stop that one but I could even make you twitch. That water really fucked you up.”

Blue liquid…? I think they made me down something like that before… Either that or one of the things he injected me with had to have been why things healed so quickly.  But wouldn’t that fall under ‘additional support’? 

“Seemed like they liked the beach and ocean you made. Cause they were staring at it a while before they filled some vials with sand and water and pocketed them.”

“Where’d they go?!”

“Ah well some weird shit appeared under his feet and started glowing then they just popped out of existence.”

“Can you be a little more descriptive than some ‘weird shit’?”

“Say please and thank you. I’m being real nice right now. I’ve earned that much.”

“Go fuck youself.”

I wanted to smack the smug grin right off his face, but the longer we stared at each other the quicker I cracked. I scratched at my head before I sighed and gave up.

“Fuck… Thanks for everything so far.  So please Ken tell me what exactly you saw.”

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes, excruciating.”

“I think it was a magic circle, it looked detailed enough at least. Someone outside must have pulled them out. Probably the same method they used to throw you in here. I don’t know much about that old people shit, so i’m pretty much throwing shit at the wall with guesses here. 

Suppose I should give you a little more substantial since you had such good manners and all. There were two supply drops a few hours after that.”

“You could have just said that if you wanted me to get up!”

He looked like he was gonna say something but a grim expression crossed his face instead.

“You're right… 

Hey Mills?”

“What's up?”

“No matter what happens don’t forget who's got a knife pressed against your throat… It’s a bad habit to get into…”

Kenneth rarely looks that serious, there was a lot more to that warning. Knowing him he was probably leaving out the details and that actually got him worried. Likely cause anything I’d do would just complicate things further... Wait a sec… That just makes me wonder how the hell he’s still able to see things even when I was out cold. I thought he was just a leech, but could he actually take control if I pass out?  Maybe I was selling him too short when I compared him to an imaginary friend.

Before I could ask another question or even think much harder about what he said he’d started to laugh.

“Haha.. I can’t just not bring it up man. It’s too fucking funny!  In case you forgot while your brain was mush.  You were naked the whole time during that guest’s little investigation. Got to see the whole package. Gotta say they seemed fairly interested in your chest, if thats related to that fucked up scar of yours or just enjoying the view I couldn’t say.”

“...”

There were so many things to actually worry about, yet being embarrassed and wanting to fucking die beat them all out.  Goddammit Ken had me going for a while there.  Here I thought we might be past him fucking with me and it comes back and smacks me in the face. 

I couldn’t help but look at that stupid scar myself, Ken getting a good chuckle in like he saw that coming from a mile away. It didn’t hurt, sure, but the black reds and purples that surrounded it didn’t seem like a good thing. There were also small glowing veins that seemed to randomly move around the area where the knife pierced my chest.  In a way it almost seemed like they were responding to my heartbeat. In general the scar felt wrong, yet equally precious and important.. It was a mark proving what I’d killed and how far I was willing to go and most importantly that all of it was real. It was something personal as fuck so the idea of some faceless rando staring at it seemed somehow more degrading then the rest of what they saw…  I know that I’d be an idiot to think it hadn’t already been poked and prodded to hell and back during all the tests they had me knocked out for…  but still, I didn’t really want to know that it actually happened.

God it felt like my face was burning red. I couldn’t just sit here, I needed some kind of distraction, anything at this point. Checking the supply drops Ken had mentioned was just the easiest answer. 

The first one was the standard food and water I’d be getting the whole time.  The other one was slightly larger and didn’t have a flag attached to it. Inside were a few sets of clothes.  Of course there was… The guest must have said something to somebody. Fuck… Okay so the clothes weren’t anything too fancy, just black waterproof scrubs. But this was more than enough to convey the simple request that I avoid running around in the nude. Great, wonderful really… Thanks guys, nice to know the observations are to this intent. I can’t wait to have to fucking explain why I talk to myself so much. That’s going to be great, and won’t at all land me in a padded fucking cell…

Focus!  Get back to work, or else you're  going to lose it… Right, right… Okay there were a few things I could figure out fairly quickly.  The sand was a nice proof of concept that the ground was as malleable as everything else. But I’d need some flat and stable land if I wanted to set up something permanent. 

It was hard to find a memory that resonated intensely enough to work as a base. What ended up doing it was one of the memories I had of cleaning up the after effects of one of the many murders that took place.  I’d spent so much time scrubbing the stone courtyard, and it never seemed to get clean enough. As if the sins committed were engraved into the concrete, and no amount of soap and water was ever going to cleanse those stains.  There was always an outline that stuck, as faded as it was, once you knew it was there you’d always see it. It had left me feeling particularly empty at the time. 

The concrete floor that I’d created was grey and fittingly covered in faded stains. Extending it was as easy as unrolling a carpet.  What was more difficult was changing it back into the flesh it’d been made out of. While not impossible, the pressure of doing so left my head spinning. 

I’d almost forgotten everything, and felt a sense of pride for turning this place into something more than just meat. But the red sky still loomed, just as the hellscape that extended past the area I’d claimed.  I’d been avoiding messing around with day and night.  The static appearance almost unaffected by light or darkness offered a consistent appearance no matter where you traveled, be it beneath the ground or above it was ideal for traveling and exploration.  The darkness night would bring would complicate everything making every step dangerous given the moving nature of everything. The trade off of making sleeping easier and a way of keeping track of time wasn’t worth the cost.. 

For now what was more important than all of that was making sure stuff I made stayed in place. Nothing was confined to a single shape in its raw form, sleeping had taught me that. The beach on the other hand was an oddity in that way, since I’d passed out for a significant amount of time and nothing changed. Proving I had some ground to stand on thinking that anything I specifically built would stay.  The beds I’d made in the past were still the same shape when I woke up, so it’s not a wholly unique occurance. Seeing if it would still last after a significant length of time out of sight though, that was something that still needed looking into.

So it was time for another trip, hopefully it would be the last I’d have to make for a while. While walking in no particular direction occasionally I’d pull a large spike of bone from the gore beneath my feet. Trying to make sure they were roughly my height,  and curved the ends enough to tie one of the many flags I’d been collecting to it. Unfortunately I didn’t stumble onto any of the places I’d set up to camp while I was walking to the ocean. That would have instantly answered my questions and let me go back. For now I figured I’d walk till my legs were too tired, set up another concrete platform, and sleep for a while before I headed back. That was my general way of gauging things anyways.

When I finally did stop while I was physically tired, but my brain hadn’t reached the same point of exhaustion. I was sitting on the edge of a concrete platform I’d made.  I’d found that the second time making one from scratch was far easier than the first. Just thinking about where I wanted it seemed to have been enough. Only the first time creating something seems to need all the mental strain put into it.  After that things just fell into place, like the very world already knew what to do. 

Eventually I found myself throwing a ball of meat into a bone hoop I’d made.  The challenging part was getting the ball to come back on its own afterwards.  The subtle movements of the ball alone were more difficult, thanks to its smaller… uhh… organs I guess? It required far more focus and thought. It actually seemed easier to move the ground beneath it. It wasn’t very accurate but it was also less thought on my part. More of an instinctual answer to what I wanted to see happen. Sloppy and almost uncontrollable but it eventually got to the desired result of the ball ending up in my hands. While my aim left a lot to be desired, the whole process did work to catch my brain up to how exhausted my body was.  

I just had one more thing to do before sleeping, I wanted to make a real bed. Closing my eyes and digging into the past for something strong enough to solidify the thoughts. Sure, I’d spent my fair share of days rotting away in one while trapped here the first time.  That just didn’t seem to be enough to form anything with structure. There was still one other time,  well a few times…  After It had been pretty much established that stuff went back to its state when no one was keeping an eye on it… that some… errr… well pretty stupid shit went down.  

It became kinda acceptable to just break the shit out of everything.  Normally out of respect you kept it to your own room, not cause of the mess, but because of how it tended to hurt overall morale. Seeing people losing it was a little… I don’t know but it left you aware of how fucked up things were, and the ability to ignore that was a powerful survival tool.  

Most of the time you’d end up in a worse state than furniture you were trying to break. The closest you could really get to a weapon was whatever you could tie to a broom or mop. This led to some creative outcomes, but even with them I still never managed to successfully break the bed. The frame was thick metal, and kinda ruined all attempts to destroy everything in the living quarters. Ken had gotten the closest but given he was some kinda monster thing back then It doesn’t really count.  Though it wouldn’t have surprised me if he actually did it without that. He made a good cover story by constantly trying to escape or permanently break things. Always seemed like he was having a good time doing it… No matter how degenerate his ideas got.

I guess I lost track of how human-like he got during that death sentence. I get hung up on how it ended and what came after that everything else falls to the side.  Important but harder to go back to after so long. 

When I eventually found myself out of memories to milk I opened my eyes and didn’t find the bed I was hoping for in the middle of my platform. Instead a little to the left of me. Contrasting against the fleshy red was a set of completely normal furniture. I was kinda staggering, and confusing given I was only aiming for a bed and ended up with a few chairs and a desk as well. They were all good things to know how to make so the outcome was fine, but was feeling a little light headed afterwards. 

Since the opportunity to learn something was there, I smashed one of the seemingly wooden chairs on the pavement. It was still a good stress relief but seeing how it acted was worth testing. While the cement was a pain to get rid of, what about something that’s a little more fragile?  It was pretty interesting, at first it seemed to break apart like wood would, normal aside from the unsettling cracking sound it made.  Until the shattered parts suddenly liquefied and splattered like blood. After that the remaining chunks seemed to bleed out for a while until eventually collapsed into itself. Leaving nothing behind but a stain of red.  While I felt like I’d just murdered something, it was interesting to see how close these replicated objects got to their originals.  Still shaking the general empty feeling I was left with was only getting more difficult the longer I was here. 

Maybe I was tired, but I still needed to move the bed onto the platform. With the ground working on my side pushing it on top was easy.  I crashed hard and fast once everything was in place though. 

I’d forgotten how nice a bed felt, it had been so long… but I still missed my own bed. Maybe I could even have made something more like it. I just wasn’t really sure I wanted to feed my real world memories to this place. I didn’t lose anything doing it, but it felt wrong like I might ruin something in my brain if I start going down that path. I’m getting closer to an answer, if memories change this place…  Maybe the answer lies in disconnecting somehow from the thoughts tied so tightly to the foundations of this place… Sure as hell not an easy thing to do given all the baggage buried here… 

Still that was getting ahead of myself, for now I needed to sleep.  Tomorrow I’ll head back and see the results of these tests. That should give the ones watching enough to chew on, and make sure I get out of this one intact… The more a figure out the easier this will get, it has too.

[everywhichwayzz]

I wrote a little clip based between "Tinker Bell" and "Great Fairy Rescue" and I wanted to show everyone how it fits into a book entirely unrelated (kind of)

It had been right after her daring plan to reverse the disaster she had caused; restoring the balance of nature and setting the preparations for Spring back on kilter. Merely days after, actually. It was much too soon for anyone to make any kind of rash decisions that could alter the traditions and methodology of the Hollow.

Tinkers did not go to the mainland. It wasn't because they couldn't; but rather, perhaps, because they shouldn't.  

It was not a journey to be taken lightly. Humans were not safe; nor predictable. They did not think nor reason in the way that a fairy did. Things that appeared so simple for fairies were not so black and white for the very beings created to maintain the mainland and tinkers were much too curious for their own good. It would take them no time at all to get into something dangerous.

Or something deadly.

Which was why Bobble was so shocked when Queen Clarion came to the workshop one breezy afternoon to inform him and Clank that Tinker Bell would be allowed to travel with the nature fairies. "She has a unique spark about her," Clarion had explained to the two flabbergasted sparrowmen. "One that I think would serve her well on the mainland."

However, she went on. This was still Tink they were talking about and not only was she the most reckless of fairies to ever arrive in the Hollow; she had only been there a few weeks! There were other tinkers, like himself and Clank, who had been there longer, who were much more experienced, why on earth would Queen Clarion want to take such a big risk on Tink this early? 

"Yer Highness!" he blurted before he knew what he was saying, setting down his tools and the acorn cap he had been fighting with for the past five minutes."What are ye sayin'? Yer actually lettin' Tink go to the mainland alone?" Don't you think that's a bad idea? Don't you think something might happen to her? She wasn't going to just linger around the camp minding her own business and waiting for something to break down! This was Tinker Bell! It would be a blooming miracle if she didn't somehow manage to start WWII in a day! 

But there was something else there too, something the Queen wasn't saying. He didn't know what it was right away, but he knew it was important; and by the way she wasn't saying anything further, he guessed it had to do with his "other abilities" and she wasn't about to say anything with other fairies mulling about.

"Hey, Clanky," he went on, catching on to Clarion's reluctance. 

"Yeah, Bobble?" Clank asked from around a mound of baskets. 

"I think I forgot somethin' over by the stream earlier while we were helpin' Lucinda with her workload. Do ye think ye could run and fetch that real quick?  I'll tidy up around here if ye do."

"Sure!" the bigger sparrowman said cheerfully, and Bobble was once again grateful for his lack of suspicion.

The moment Clank was gone, the Queen's demeanor changed instantly. She fluttered to the ground and drew up a chair, gesturing for Bobble to do the same. "Have a seat," she said kindly and he obeyed, hopping up onto a toadstool, staring at her in worry.

"Have I...done somethin' wron'?" he asked immediately. He thought back as far as he could, but he couldn't think of anything recently that would have warranted the Queen coming to visit him personally. 

Unless she holds me accountable for Tink's actions with the spring preparations.

An icy bucket of fear danced his spine. That was it, wasn't it? It had been his fault. He had been the one to take Tink under his wing. Yes, Clank had been there, but who had been the one guiding Tink since she first arrived? Who had been the one to teach her everything he knew? 

Who had been the one who had known she wanted to go to the mainland and hadn't said a word?

"I...I shoulda told her not to push so hard," Bobble stammered, spluttering out words before the Queen could speak. "But she's just so... so determined, ye know? I thought—well, I thought if I tried to hold her back, she'd only find a way to slip past me anyway and--"

"Phineas, it's okay," Queen Clarion interrupted before his trainwreck could finish derailing. "You've done nothing wrong. In fact, I daresay you've done the best out of everyone."

He frowned. "Yer Highness?"

"Tinker Bell has a job to do in the mainland this year," she went on, folding her hands calmly and waiting while the scrambled puzzle pieces tried to fall into place. "Just as she did in the spring. You did nothing wrong. Neither did Clank. I know you were both looking out for her best interests. Both of you are the reason she is able to go now with the arrival of summer."

"So...yer just goin' to send her to the mainland alone?"

Queen Clarion smiled gently, shaking her head. "Not alone, Bobble. I would never send her without someone I knew I could trust to watch out for her. The nature fairies will be busy bringing in the new season, so they will have little time to assist her with her quest."

Bobble furrowed his brow. "Then...who's going with her?"

Clarion's eyes softened, her expression full of wisdom and warmth. "You are," she said simply.

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

“...”

Paris, Seine, France – June 1848

There was a clock in this room. He could not tell where it was; all he knew was that its ticking reverberated through the entire room, echoing through the walls, the furniture, the ground, and pulsing through the air.

The clock hands were moving, gliding over the clock face with every second, every minute, every hour with a soft, deafening tick, tick, tick.

All while his time had frozen still.

He could not move; he could not think. His limbs were lead; his mind congealed.

He could not tell whether he was holding her hand or whether she was holding his. Was he anchoring her, or was she anchoring him? He only knew that their hands were clutched together, that she wasn’t answering him, that her chest was weakly moving up and down, and that the tick, tick, tick was engulfing everything, even eclipsing the havoc outside.

And that he did not know what to do.

She was bleeding out on a table, and he had no idea what to do.

A scream broke through the unrelenting ticking; it did not come from outside, but from within, beckoning him to do something do something do something…

But he was frozen still. They were in an empty café who-knew-where in Paris. There were no medical kits. There was no help. He didn’t know the way to anywhere. And his mind was blank besides the scream, the scream that was getting louder and louder, but there was nothing here that could help…

Except…

Except…

Cedric tightened his grip on Cloudia’s hand as the ice shattered around, reached for her pocket as the world came back.

The receiver.

Cloudia had never returned the receiver and had only retrieved Yvette’s transmitter, not Townsend’s. It must still be on his body – which was now being taken to Cecelia’s house.

Cedric held his breath as he let the screen flare to life and only exhaled when he saw the blinking stationary dot – and the blinking moving one.

Milton had said that the range of his transmitters and his receiver was not much, even with the supplementary stations Quentin had set up, and Cedric and Cloudia had separated from the others so long ago. Still, one dot was dancing over the screen, in a messy zigzag but clearly visible, clearly there. And showing them the way to safety, to help.

“Countess,” Cedric said and squeezed Cloudia’s hand, energy floating back into his body. “Please hang on. I will get you to help; I only need you to hang on.”

She stirred softly in response, and his heart ached at the sight. The pain deepened when Cedric let go of her hand, the loss of her touch sending a cold shock through his system even though their hands could not have been clasped together for that long. With newfound strength, Cedric shuffled hastily through the cabinets and drawers again, procuring some towels at least. He held one of them beneath the tap but an image of blood running, running, running into water blurred his vision momentarily when he reached for the handle. He pulled his hand back instead, turned to Cloudia, pressed the dry towel to her wound, and wrapped others around her. They made poor makeshift bandages, especially on a gaping wound, but it was better than nothing.

Cedric glanced at the receiver beside Cloudia. Townsend’s dot still hadn’t disappeared from the screen, but there was no time to waste; it was only a question of time until it did – just like it was a question of time until Cloudia…

Cedric shook his head free of the thought.

No, no, no.

With the receiver showing me the way, I would get Cloudia to safety.

Today was not the day she would die; not when I had any say in it.

Cedric gently lifted Cloudia into his arms. When her head rolled against his chest, he resisted the urge to drop a kiss on it and whisper into her hair that everything would be all right. He thought it instead, again and again and again, as he stepped outside, back into the riot-filled streets of Paris, even if he couldn’t touch the skull pendant necklace now and he knew that none of his thoughts could reach Cloudia. They were more for him, he supposed, the reassurances that he strung in his mind like pearls along a thread while he followed the way the receiver drew out for him. Still, part of him hoped that they did somehow reach Cloudia; and when she began to mumble softly, too softly for him to make out any words in the noise around and with his heart beating as rapidly as it did, Cedric considered it a sign that they had.

It was difficult to follow the blinking dot at times. The chaos was not ebbing away, only increasing, and it became harder and harder to navigate the streets. It did not help that Cedric did not know them and found himself now and then face-to-face with a dead end, or that there were people everywhere �� fighting, running, building barricades. Every new road, every rounded corner offered a new challenge; it had been like that earlier too, only now Cedric could not let anyone get too close to Cloudia, lest someone grazed her, stumbled against her – made her injury worse than it already was.

He wished he could jump over the roofs again, but he did not dare to try.

But what was worse? Losing the signal and any way to find Cecelia’s house or a potentially minor worsening of Cloudia’s wound?

Cedric clenched his teeth together as he navigated the dense streets, dodged flying objects, and manoeuvred around people, all while holding tight to Cloudia and gripping the receiver so hard his knuckles came out white. Sweat was running into Cedric’s eyes. He had no hand free to wipe it away. The dot was skimming the edge of the screen, almost fading out of it. And there were so many people, so many dead ends, so many unfamiliar turns and streets. And so, so much blood seeping out of Cloudia.

“Hold on tight,” Cedric whispered to Cloudia and jumped. The breeze cooled his sweat slightly, and the higher he got, jumping from balcony to balcony, the more at ease he felt. The air was permeated with gunpowder, smoke, blood, and tears, even so high above; still, it felt fresher to him than below on the crowded street.

Cloudia groaned softly when Cedric reached the roof. “Are you okay, Countess?” he asked, his voice full of worry and his mind ready to scold himself for undertaking this reckless behaviour, but her mumbling response stopped the tirage because, this time, he could hear her: “I am,” she said. Tears welled in his eyes to hear her speak clearly, albeit weakly; it hadn’t been too long ago that Cedric had feared he might never hear her voice at all anymore.

“You’re so silly,” Cloudia murmured then.

Cedric chuckled. “I am, aren’t I?” He squeezed her gently before he moved along the roof and hopped to the next to catch up with the dot. It was quickly accomplished, and part of Cedric basked in the relief, but the rest of him urged him not to become careless now: Just because he had brought the dot of Townsend’s transmitter firmly into the screen again did not mean it would stay there.

And, indeed, when Cedric reached the river and saw the masses of people on and around the bridge, his heart dropped momentarily. He had to get on the other side to follow the transmitter, and he could not do it jumping from roof to roof.

“Hold tight, Countess,” Cedric said. This time, Cloudia grabbed his shirt. Her breathing was laboured, and her face was marked with pain, but her grip was still surprisingly strong.

“I’ll be careful; don’t worry,” he told her, though her action did not make him doubt his abilities at all; it only lit him up with hope and determination that everything would be fine – that she would be fine. Taking a deep breath, Cedric descended back to the streets. If someone had noticed them coming from the rooftops, no one cared enough in this turmoil to stare or enquire.

Holding Cloudia tightly, and she holding tightly to him, Cedric charged for the bridge. It was packed with people who were bound southward, either to try to escape the chaos north or let the fire expand. In the streets, one could be squished or trampled to death by the crowds; here, one could be pushed off the bridge, right into the Seine whose water horribly resembled the Thames’.

And there was it again; that image from earlier.

Drops, drops, drops of blood in the water.

Running longer and longer.

Colouring the river red and redder and…

Cedric pushed the image away, letting it dissolve in the stream of his memory. Forwards. He had to move forwards, not backwards. Towards the blinking dot on the screen, through the crowds of people, to the other side of this river.

It was a tight fit, with a few close calls when someone got too close to Cloudia, when Cedric ended up too close to the balustrade, but while he might not know how to treat a wound, how to save a life, he knew how to navigate places like this, situations like this. And he was so much more agile than he had been then.

Dodging people and objects; vision blurring because of the hectic movements all around; ears ringing because of the noise, the shouts, the shots, the screams and the cries. In the end, guards were trying to keep the people away and shepherd them back. Cedric swiftly evaded them too.

The bridge first led onto a small island in the Seine, and he had to take its second half to get to the other side of the river proper. The process for the second part was the same as the first. Cedric pushed through, and then he and Cloudia were fully across the bridge.

Euphoria rose in his chest. He would have jumped in joy if he hadn’t been carrying Cloudia. He would have raised a fist to the sky if his hands hadn’t been occupied. He would have, at least, let out one triumphant squeak if his euphoria hadn’t extinguished as quickly as it had risen.

Their dot was still blinking.

The second one was gone.

Cloudia mumbled a question that sounded vaguely like “what is wrong?” but the blood rushed into Cedric’s ears, and he could not be sure. He went, half-tumbled, to a side street that seemed refreshingly quiet. Leaned against a wall, took deep, gasping breaths.

The dot was gone.

It had been there only a moment ago. I knew it had been there only a moment ago. I had glanced at the screen right after passing the guards, and it had been there, blinking, beckoning – not at the edge of the screen even, but firmer in the middle.

And now it was gone. Vanished without a trace. What had happened?

Had something happened to Townsend? To the transmitter? To Milton’s towers? Was the receiver malfunctioning? Had Oscar and Barrington ventured to an area with no towers, with no signal? Had they boarded a carriage and rushed out of range?

But what did it matter what had happened to the signal. It was gone – and with it any chance of me finding Cecelia’s house and getting to the others.

Laughter sprung out of Cedric. It was not the joyous kind that came out whenever he was with Cloudia; it was darker, harsher – one that rattled both his body and his nerves. Cloudia tightened her grip on his shirt, dug her fingers into his flesh as strongly as she could; he paid it no mind as bitter, hysteric laughter took over him.

He felt so stupid.

He felt so useless.

He felt so lost.

Not much had changed then. It was still the same – I was still the same.

“What on earth happened?”

The question in plain, horrified English threw him out of his trance – and the voice made Cedric snap his head up.

Barrington Weaselton stared at them with wide, worried eyes. Cedric had never been so happy to see him.

“Oh, good Lord, Dia.” Barrington stepped to them, raised his hand to touch Cloudia’s face, maybe brush a lock of hair away, though he let it hover instead.

“She got shot,” Cedric pressed out. Hearing this fact out loud, saying this out loud, sent a punch to his stomach. “I’m so sorry.”

“How could you…” Barrington began but then shook his head. With this simple motion, he seemed to sharpen. His presence was always so loud already, but Cedric never quite understood how nebulous Barrington’s edges actually were until he laid down his usual coat for the one befitting a former knight and senior Aristocrat of Evil.

“Hand her to me, Kristopher,” Barrington demanded with the same force and authority as when he had spoken to Cedric at Phantomhive Manor a few months ago.

Cedric shook his head. “No.”

“Be reasonable. We have little time; Dia is bleeding out as we speak, and you can barely stand.”

“No.” Cedric held Cloudia tighter. “I can still carry her. I’ve carried her so far already, and I can get her to Cecelia’s house. Just show me where to go.”

Barrington mustered him. “If you falter once,” he said insistently, staring right into his eyes, “you will hand her over with no protest, do you understand me?”

Cedric tightened his grip and nodded his head. Barrington held the gaze for one moment longer before he turned, unsheathed his sword, and beckoned Cedric to follow.

The fighting hadn’t quite reached this part of the city yet. They had left the epicentre of it all when they had crossed the bridge, but bits and pieces of the chaos flared up here too before they vanished entirely when the buildings became grander and nicer.

Cedric asked his question earlier though, a mere two steps after they had left the quiet little side street.

“Where are Milton, Oscar, and Townsend?”

“We split up,” Barrington said matter-of-factly.

Cedric nearly stopped in his tracks, only his subconsciousness telling him that it might hurt Cloudia to stop so suddenly urged him forward. “You did what?”

“Oscar suggested that I turn around and try to get you. After all, you don’t know Paris and might get lost.” Barrington rammed the handle of his sword against the temple of a man who came too close to them and reeked of trouble. It was an eerily casual move, and it unnerved Cedric how it did not seem to faze Barrington at all. “I hate to admit it, but Oscar was correct in his assessment.” Barrington glanced at Cedric. “I cannot believe I am glad to have listened to him.”

“But how could you leave Milton with…”

Barrington silenced Cedric with one glare. “This is not the time to care for the Salisbury boy. Just be quiet and follow me. We must be quick.”

Cedric pressed his lips together. Cloudia murmured something he couldn’t make out. That she was making a noise let a little smile appear on Barrington’s face before he shoved some people away and led them down a few more streets until the sounds of fighting and rioting turned into mere background noise. The sudden change, the dissonance between this part of the city and the one they had left behind, was so stark that it left Cedric momentarily disoriented.

A few men and women in fine clothes traversed through the roads, and some polished carriages rattled through the streets here. People stared at Cedric, Barrington, and Cloudia, taking in their battered appearances, and turned to whisper amongst themselves. Barrington had sheathed his sword again, and when a man approached them clearly to try to send them away, Barrington merely placed a hand on the hilt, straightened his back, and stared at him. Without a word, the man turned around and quickly moved away.

Barrington then guided Cedric into the side streets, and they walked through its web until, finally, they arrived at the back entrance of the Williams family’s Paris townhouse. Cedric briefly looked at it but took nothing in; all his attention was on Cloudia and getting up the stairs without falling. How pathetic it would be to drop her now, mere metres before their destination.

Barrington knocked against the door – short, long, long, short –, and it immediately flew open at the last knock. Newman stepped before Cedric and tried to take Cloudia out of his arms. However, because Newman’s appearance had been so sudden, Cedric stiffened for a moment and didn’t let go. Only when Newman assured him that she would be fine, Cedric let go. He nearly tipped over when Newman lifted Cloudia out of his arms. The balance was off now; it was as if someone had ripped a limb from his body. He felt so hollow, and everything felt so strange and wrong that Cedric could only hover before the door. Barrington gently pushed him into the house.

The door closed behind them.

The lock was turned.

And exhaustion and pain crashed upon Cedric.

He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His knees nearly buckled; he staggered against the door.

I was here. I had made it to Cecelia’s house. We had made it to Cecelia’s house. Cloudia. Cloudia.

Cedric shot out his arm, caught the end of Barrington’s jacket before he could leave. Barrington turned around, and though Cedric had no energy to speak anymore and could only huff, his sight must have been ghastly enough for Barrington’s edges to soften again. “It’s been a long day,” he said softly. “Kam will take care of Dia – and you should get yourself cleaned up and get some rest.” He let his gaze wander over Cedric and grimaced. “Really, you should get yourself cleaned up before Cecelia comes here and lectures you on ruining Michael’s great-great-great grandfather’s Persian rug or something.”

“It’s his great-grandfather’s Persian rug, not his great-great-great-grandfather’s. Don’t you ever listen?” Cecelia said as she appeared by the back door. “And I would indeed lecture you about that, Not-Kristopher, if I wasn’t so astonished that the Bookstore Boy’s hunch has been right.” She folded her arms in front of her chest with a grim expression on her face. “He dropped a plate all of a sudden and began to prepare a room as if possessed. Didn’t even pick up the porcelain pieces, and it was part of Michael’s great-great-aunt’s good tea service too.”

“That’s good to hear. The part with Kamden and his preparations, not the part with the plate,” remarked Barrington and patted Cedric’s hand that still held on to his jacket. “Kam was even ready beforehand; there is no need to worry, Kristopher.”

“Regarding this…” Cecelia glanced at Cedric before she shifted her eyes back to Barrington. “As Cloudia was severely injured, there are some things that need to be discussed, Barrington…”

Cedric tore his hand free from Barrington’s jacket at her words and stormed away before he could hear another piece of their conversation.

Cedric didn’t clean himself up, not properly at least. Wandering unsteadily, aimlessly through the stately house, he did eventually find a bathroom. However, when Cedric had turned on the tap, his intestines had made a flip, and he had had to turn it right off again. He had rubbed his hands and face with a dry cloth, though it helped little to scrub out the blood. Cloudia’s blood. Cedric dropped his face in his hands.

It had barely been ten minutes since Newman had taken her from him, but he missed her already, missed her scent, her warmth, her weight against his body.

But she should be with Kamden now. It was better if she was with him than with me. He could patch her up after all.

I only got her shot.

I should have been there. I should have been there. Instead, I had lost my damn glasses and let her go after Yvette alone.

Cedric ripped his spectacles off his face, flung them away. They rattled against the ground or the wall or a cupboard, he did not care, just as he sunk to the cold bathroom tiles. He drew his legs in, hugged them to his body, and rested his forehead on his knees. He hadn’t dared to look into the mirror, knowing that it would be a frightful sight. His body was sore, every bit of it howling in agony and strain from all the fighting and all the running. He had lost his hair tie on the train, and his long hair must now be tangled and dirty. He reeked of sweat and blood, and his clothes were sticky with it.

And most of that blood was Cloudia’s.

Cedric’s heart tightened in his chest. She will be fine, she will be fine, he kept repeating in his mind and hugged his legs even tighter. Before he had turned on the tap, he had put the receiver into his pocket, and it was now poking him in the side, nudging him to remember its existence.

With a jolt that let him cry out in pain, Cedric lifted his head and fumbled the receiver, Milton’s receiver, out of his pocket.

Barrington had split up from Oscar, Milton, and Townsend earlier, but had they returned too by now?

Cedric turned on the receiver. He held it close to his face to read the screen as it lit up. The dot for the transmitter in Cloudia’s pocket did too. Milton and, or Quentin must have set up towers in this area as well.

Then, where was the second dot? The one for Townsend’s transmitter?

Awkwardly, Cedric got to his feet, pulling himself up on the washbasin. He cursed as he felt around for his damn glasses for a second time that day. He wished he could move around this house at least without them, only he had never been there, and he doubted anyone would want to function as his eyes and guide him around – and he himself did not want this either. Eventually, Cedric found his spectacles again and put them back on; they were still intact, and he wondered for a second how much of a beating they could take until they shattered before he pushed the thought aside and stepped out of the bathroom.

He wandered around a bit. Everything about this house’s interior screamed exquisite, from the floors and walls to the decorative pieces filling up the rooms and corridors. Cedric, with his bloody, torn clothes, must look painfully out of place here. He did not care for it, however; the only person who might care was Cecelia, and he was not looking for her.

He was looking for Oscar and Milton, and when he couldn’t find them anywhere, he sought out Barrington.

“Didn’t you say Oscar went ahead with Milton and Townsend?” Cedric asked when he found Barrington in a small sitting room.

“Didn’t I also say you should clean up, change, and get some rest?” replied Barrington and put down his sword; he had been sharpening it until now.

“Milton, Oscar, and Townsend are still not here yet,” Cedric continued, ignoring Barrington’s response.

Barrington frowned. “Are you sure? We weren’t far from here when he separated.”

“Didn’t you check if they were here?” Cedric asked, panic and anger flashing within him.

“I cannot say that Oscar and the Salisbury boy are my favourite people in the world. And with…” He glanced at Cedric. “… everything going on right now, they slipped my mind.” Barrington was silent for a moment. “You don’t believe Oscar ran off, do you? Discarded Townsend and Salisbury somewhere and escaped? Oscar practically begged to be on this mission, yes, but I doubt he did that so that he could flee and not live as a convict anymore.”

“Maybe. But what if…” Cedric ran a hand through his hair until it got stuck in a tangled knot.

The signal.

The second blinking dot had vanished after Cloudia and I had crossed the river – and not long before Barrington had stumbled across us. Could it have disappeared right after they had gone their separate ways?

“What… what if Oscar kidnapped Milton and Townsend?” asked Cedric, feeling sick at the possibility. “What if he wanted to come along so badly because he also wanted to get his hands on the Queen’s box?”

Barrington blinked at him. “What would Oscar even want with it? He doesn’t even have it; Dia does, or you do, don’t you?”

“The Countess has it, yes, but Oscar now has the person who managed to find and steal it and someone who could open it and…” Cedric stared at the object in his hand, the receiver that should not exist – yet. Cold washed over him. The Salisbury Trading Company was known for its state-of-the-art machinery and swift deliveries; it was not beyond the realm of possibilities that someone might figure out that their machines were beyond contemporary. Just like Townsend had. And even if Oscar hadn’t figured it out beforehand, Townsend might have told him in an effort to wager for his freedom. Point at the unconscious man in their midst, spill his secrets, hope that it would entice Oscar to reconsider his orders.

But Barrington was right. Why would Oscar do something like that? I doubted a man like Oscar would do anything for money alone; one could easily become rich with Milton’s works – just as easily as one could wreak great havoc with them. And what else was there besides fast ships, radar technology, and prototypes of protective gear?

What else was there that could bring danger and chaos?

And for what?

I didn’t think it would be havoc for havoc’s reason.

“It is troubling and worrisome that they haven’t arrived yet,” Barrington said slowly while keeping his eyes fixed on Cedric. “And I have the lowest opinion of Oscar Livingstone; out of all people in this building, I’ve known him the longest too. You could ask every stone in Great Britain, and each of them would know how much I despise that man, but why on earth would he kidnap the Salisbury boy and Townsend? Or try to get his hands on the Queen’s puzzle box? It makes very little sense to me, I’m afraid, Kristopher. Oscar was also carrying Salisbury like an egg; he is taking the word he gave Dia very seriously, and I doubt he ran off with him for whatever reason or dumped him in the Seine.”

Cedric lifted the receiver. “This is a machine Milton made; it’s used to track certain objects. One of them is now with the Countess, and the other one is with Townsend – should be with Townsend. I used the apparatus to track him; that’s why I managed to get as far as I did. However, after I crossed the bridge, Townsend’s signal suddenly vanished. That would have been not long after you split up from Oscar and the others.”

Barrington mustered the object with a raised eyebrow. “This is concerning timing, yes, but are you sure that this thing isn’t just malfunctioning? I knew a tinkerer-type person, and his inventions tended to explode or not function as they should all the time. One of them even blew up a building’s entire west wing. There wasn’t an explosion of this calibre in this area, as far as I know, though that doesn’t mean that this thing didn’t just break. It could have broken down differently. Quietly. Or maybe it’s not whatever you’re holding that’s broken; maybe it’s whatever that is with Townsend.” Slowly, Barrington stood up and walked up to Cedric. “It’s been a long day,” he said and put his hand on Cedric’s arm. “You’re tired and worried; I understand it. I’m worried sick for Dia too, but you won’t help anyone if you don’t go and get some rest and lose yourself in wild theories instead.”

Cedric ripped his arm free. “I’m not making up stuff because my nerves are frayed and I’m tired,” he bellowed. “Why aren’t you taking this seriously? If anything happens to Milton too, it’s your fault!” With that, Cedric turned around and stormed out of the sitting room. Barrington followed him. He tried to grab him, but Cedric’s anger at Barrington’s inaction gave him enough strength to push his tired body to dodge each of his attempts.

Barrington swore under his breath and mumbled that he couldn’t believe he was doing this as he chased Cedric to the back door. “Kristopher, you need to lie down and get some sleep,” he called after him. Cedric ignored him and simply kept on going. He rushed down the stairs, and…

It knocked at the door before he arrived there.

Short. Long. Long. Short.

It made Cedric halt, his surroundings growing still for a moment while everything within him was in turmoil; his heart was beating too quickly, all fibres of his muscles ached, and his mind was scrambled.

After a pause, the knocking began again, in the same sequence as before. This time, it shook Cedric awake, made him hasten forward, unlock the door and pull it open and…

Oscar Livingstone stood before him. His clothes were slightly more battered than they had been before, though he was still carefully cradling an unconscious Milton in his arms while somehow simultaneously dragging Townsend and a man Cedric had never seen before after him.

Cedric blinked at Oscar in bewilderment. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Could you let me inside?” he asked right before Barrington arrived and pulled Cedric out of the way.

“He’s… he’s a bit out of it,” Barrington explained and hushed Oscar forward. “He’s very tired and… there’s been a situation with Dia.”

“What’s the purpose of dancing around this situation?” enquired Oscar as he stepped inside.

“She got shot in the abdomen,” replied Barrington and closed the door. The instant the lock clicked shut, Oscar kicked Townsend and the other man to the ground. They were both tied up and gagged and wiggled around in vain to get back up.

“Why not say that from the beginning?” Oscar said. “I suppose Sainteclare is looking after her as we speak.” Without even waiting until Barrington had affirmed or negated his words, Oscar continued calmly, “I will lay down the boy; bring those two somewhere secure for detainment.”

Without another word, Oscar vanished into the corridor, carrying Milton with him. It was quiet for a moment by the back door; for a second, the men on the ground even ceased groaning.

“He’s back,” Cedric said in astonishment, having re-found his voice at last.

“Yes, he’s back, and the Salisbury boy seemed perfectly fine,” replied Barrington with a sigh. “I will get Townsend and the other one to the basement. And, Kristopher, please get some rest, you hear me?”

Cedric didn’t get any rest. Instead, he followed Oscar to a drawing room and watched him lay down Milton on a sofa. He took off his jacket and shoes, struggled with the weird utility belt before he managed to open it. He put every item away neatly, searched the room for a blanket, and draped it over Milton. Cedric was mesmerised by the scene in front of him. Oscar did everything with such gentleness, such care that he could not fathom that this was the same man who had sent him and Cloudia to the Witch’s Castle.

“Should I treat him like a ragdoll?” asked Oscar abruptly, startling Cedric.

“No, of course not,” Cedric was quick to say. “I’m just… surprised.”

Oscar looked at him for a moment. “I gave my word that I would keep him safe,” he said at last.

“I didn’t know your word had any weight.”

“I will quickly get washed,” said Oscar, ignoring Cedric’s words. “Do not wake him.”

Oscar left the room. Cedric fell into the armchair next to the sofa, stared at Milton lying on it, watched the soft rise and fall of his chest, and searched with his eyes for any additional injury on his body but discovered none.

I should be more relieved than I was to see him well. To have him here, a living, breathing proof that I had been wrong. Oscar had never kidnapped him at all; Oscar had never been a danger to him at all.

But still.

But still…

“Milton has been unconscious for quite a long time,” remarked Cedric when Oscar returned.

Oscar gently lifted Milton’s left hand and felt his pulse. “His heartbeat is steady, and he has no major external injuries, nor any internal ones from what I can tell. He must simply be exhausted; he will be fine,” Oscar stated and put down Milton’s hand as carefully as if he believed Milton to be a porcelain doll. And lying there looking perfectly serene with his gold-blond hair fanned out over the cream pillow and his skin as pale as ever, Milton did look like one.

Sleeping Beauty, Cedric thought in spite of himself and immediately pushed the thought away.

“Why should I take any of your words at face value?” Cedric challenged Oscar.

“You can come here and check his pulse yourself,” retorted Oscar and fussed with Milton’s blanket. “He’s alive and well. You engaged in a long chase through a city under siege. He must have crashed from sheer exhaustion. You look like you are on the verge of it too, Underwood.”

“Milton wasn’t that tired beforehand,” Cedric protested. “Yes, sure, we ran through the woods, the train, and Paris in short succession, getting chased and chasing, and I cannot remember if he got any rest before our five-hour-long ride to Creil. At any rate, Milton was holding himself together surprisingly well. Though his nerves had begun to fray when we arrived in Paris…”

Oscar turned to look at him, and Cedric sighed. “Yes, okay, okay, it’s a miracle that he didn’t crash earlier. Nonetheless, I think it’s concerning that he hasn’t woken up yet, even if only for a brief moment.” He narrowed his eyes at Oscar. “It doesn’t help that he was with you.”

“As I said, I gave my word to keep him safe,” Oscar replied dryly. A moment later, Barrington burst into the room. “Oscar,” he exclaimed, “who is that other man, and why were you so…”

Oscar glared at him with an intensity Cedric had not seen before, and he had been on the receiving side of Oscar’s death glares multiple times before. Barrington stopped talking instantaneously.

“Weaselton, I believed that you would have at least the decency to speak quietly when someone is asleep,” Oscar said in a lowered voice, but he could have just as well been yelling. “I suppose I have been too lenient with you.”

“Oh, you are…” Barrington began just as loud as before. Oscar glared at him, and Barrington continued quieter: “…not someone who should lecture others on decency, Yard Ripper.”

“Nevertheless, I seem to be more knowledgeable about common etiquette than you, so I am indeed qualified to lecture you,” Oscar replied. “And now please say what you want to say. I want you to leave before you wake him.”

Barrington glowered at Oscar before he cleared his throat. “Who is that other man you brought with you, and why were you so late, Oscar?” asked Barrington, keeping his voice low.

“He is most likely one of Townsend’s comrades,” Oscar answered. “After we split up, that man suddenly attacked me and tried to free Townsend. It was a hassle to capture him while making sure that Townsend didn’t run away, and that the boy would not get hurt. The operation took a while; that’s why I was late. I suppose Townsend must have had his base of operations close by, and that’s why I could and did run into one of his men.”

“See, Kristopher?” said Barrington and patted his hand. “A perfectly logical explanation for why Oscar was tardy. Now, you can sleep peacefully. Please do; please rest peacefully, you look horrendous.”

Cedric scowled at him, and Oscar tilted his head but did not say a word.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Kristopher,” Barrington said. “You had a delirious fit earlier. You look like you’ve been run over by a train or a squirrel that barely survived an encounter with a speedy carriage. I’m sorry but ‘horrendous’ is a mild descriptor in this case.”

“I’m not going to sleep,” replied Cedric intently. “Not before I know the Countess is well.”

Barrington groaned. “You stubborn idiot, can’t you understand…”

Milton stirred a little at Barrington’s raised voice. Immediately, Oscar patted his arm to ease him back to sleep. He then delivered a glare so fatal at Barrington that he fled the room without protesting before Oscar had even followed it with a “Leave” that was hissed with such force that a shudder ran through Cedric’s body despite its ill-treated state.

Thereafter, Oscar slightly adjusted Milton’s blanket and then sat down on the ground, leaning against the ottoman opposite the sofa Milton was lying on. He pulled out a piece of wood and a small knife out of his pocket. For a while, Oscar and Cedric sat in silence, with the only sounds permeating the room being metal on wood, Milton’s soft breathing, and the faint ticking of a grandfather clock. Cedric tensed at the latter sound.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

The grandfather clock’s ticking mixed with the ticking of the café’s clock, pulsing within my head in canon.

Cold sweat broke out over my body. My breathing was uneven. My heart beating too quickly.

Tick, tick, tick… tick, tock, tick, tock…

So much could happen from one second to the next.

I didn’t know how Cloudia was doing.

I had stumbled across her room while searching for Milton and Oscar. Newman had been staying sentinel and taking and bringing objects from and to the room. I hadn’t asked. I couldn’t ask. I had simply turned on my heel and resumed my search.

Tick, tick, tick… tick, tock, tick, tock…

My clothes were so heavy on me, her blood on them pulling me down.

It was… it was so hard to breathe…

“You should rest, by the way,” Oscar said. His words came out of nowhere; he did not even look up when he said them. Still, they made Cedric flinch and pushed him back to the here and now. It took him a moment longer to realise that Oscar had said those words with an oddly soft edge to them. His tone made Cedric’s ears ring as Oscar continued with the same softness, “There is no reason for you to sit in this room. Your presence here helps no one. You can just go and find a room to sleep in.”

“I’m here because I can’t leave you alone with Milton,” replied Cedric, irritation rising within him.

“And why is that so?” Oscar finally took his eyes off his handiwork and fixed them on Cedric. “He is soundly asleep, and I have no reason to harm him. If I had any intention to do anything to the boy, I would have done it already, after I had told Weaselton to find you and the Lady. Why would and should I try anything now? In a house with so many people around when I had the perfect opportunity to do him harm earlier?” He tilted his head slightly, and the look in his pale blue eyes made Cedric squirm. “But you know that already, don’t you?” said Oscar softly. Cedric stiffened. “You are not here because you want to guard him.”

Cedric pressed his lips together, set not to reply, but the barrier slipped quickly. He had no energy to keep it up, and something about Oscar’s tone pulled at Cedric’s words, dragging them to the surface. “He is a very fidgety person,” Cedric said, at last, the words breaking out of him. “He’s always fumbling on his sleeves or pulling on them. I sometimes wonder if he’s constantly afraid of something with how he seems like he cannot find any rest.” He glanced at Milton’s still form, and his stomach churned at the sight. “Seeing him now, it feels so wrong because he’s just too calm. But, at the same time, it fits so well because Milton is also a very calm person and has an oddly soothing presence. How does that make any sense? I have no idea but that’s just how it is.”

Grunting, Cedric lifted himself out of the armchair and pushed himself to the sofa, made himself take Milton’s hand – the injured left one, not the right one as he didn’t like being touched there, and Cedric didn’t want to upset him even if he was currently fast sleep. Cedric checked Milton’s pulse. It beat steadily beneath his fingers, made his own heart follow its tune and stabilise and calm itself too from the sheer relief that Oscar hadn’t lied. “I suppose,” Cedric added quietly. “I want him to wake up because I just want to talk to him. But I won’t shake him awake for that, don’t worry.”

Oscar mustered him with an unreadable, blank expression on his face. “Now that you’ve reassured yourself that he is here and well,” he said, “you should go and rest yourself. He will wake up later than sooner, and you need to get yourself together before she wakes up.”

***

Everything afterwards passed as a blur. Putting Milton’s hand down, tucking him in properly. Leaving the drawing room. Wandering through the house like a ghost. Up and down, left and right. Moving without being able to feel my body; moving as if something or someone else was steering me. Like a wind-up doll one sets down to wander free and aimlessly.

Alfred found me eventually. I closed my eyes as he guided me gently to an empty room. He left quickly, apologising that he could not even fetch me some tea. But I was not upset. I knew that he was needed.

He smelled of her blood after all.

I opened my eyes again when I lay down on the bed. It was large and lush, and I felt out of place and small on top of it. I must be ruining the bedding, but the thought and worry did not take hold in my mind.

My mind was blank, and my heart was aching.

Somewhere in this house, Cloudia was lying and wrestling for her life.

Kamden could stitch up the wound, but he could not make it heal. He could wash away the blood, but he could not return it.

She was a fighter, but she had lost so, so much blood. And human life was so, so fragile.

A rattle startled me. It took me a moment to realise that I had instinctively reached for my chain of lockets. I pulled it out of my pocket, let it dangle in front of my face like a mobile. I hadn’t even told Cloudia about them yet, about the lockets that I had been carrying with me for nearly a hundred years.

Five lockets on a chain for five lives lost.

A friend, a child, a stranger, a partner, a…

I clasped the charm in the middle, held it against my chest. My eyes fluttered closed. I could feel her fingers on my head, could feel them running through my hair. I waited for her to speak, waited for her soothing voice to lull me to sleep.

But this time, Cesca had no fairy tale to offer, and I plunged into dark, dreamless sleep all alone.

***

London, England, United Kingdom – March 1846

The last tendrils of the sun had followed Cloudia on the way back home, and when she arrived at the Phantomhive townhouse, the sun had set, and the streetlamps had taken its place to illuminate the world. They were brought to life one by one by lamplighters and shone dimly but steadily, ready to keep the shadows at bay. By the time Cloudia passed through the townhouse’s gates, her street was lined by lights. And like the streetlamps, Cloudia felt set alight too.

She had been frustrated for weeks, and while she did not get any answers to her questions, a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders today, and she felt so light and alive. Thus, though she had walked for so long and so much, Cloudia felt oddly energetic all the way to the townhouse. Her exhaustion only caught up with her when she stepped over the doorsill and into the building. Her legs nearly buckled; her muscles cried out in tense agony. Because of her disguise, Cloudia had discreetly entered through a side door, and there was no Newman to help her. She stabilised herself on a small side table and then slowly and awkwardly made her way to the library as it was the closest room with places to sit and rest.

Cloudia immediately threw herself on a plush chaise longue as soon as she spotted it. She pressed her face into a soft pillow and groaned into it. Her body might have given up the instant she had crossed the threshold into the house, but she was still alight inside.

Today hadn’t gone as planned. I had been caught, arrested; I hadn’t been able to say anything I had intended to say, paralysed as I had been.

But all had gone well anyway.

I hadn’t scared Milton away; he had offered to meet me alone. We hadn’t talked much, but he had invited me to write to him.

I hadn’t been given anything to organise my thoughts or pinpoint the oddness I felt but a chance. And I nearly burst in eagerness to write to him now, as pathetic as it may sound, but my body, my aching, knackered body, gave me a firm “no” and a broad hint to get myself to bed.

If only I could get up this chaise longue.

“I haven’t seen you all day.”

Oscar’s voice sent a jolt through Cloudia’s body; she was sure that she had jumped in a lying position a few centimetres upwards too. With great effort, she rolled to her side and squinted. At the other side of this section, a small lamp had been lit, and Oscar was sitting by it, immersed in a book. He was so far away; still, Cloudia could discern from how he was handling the book that it was Paradise Lost again. Oscar had been in a particularly melancholic mood in the last few months and had been reading the poem with great intensity and frequency. Cloudia couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him reading anything else.

“It’s a childhood favourite,” Oscar had answered her a few years back, though Cloudia had never asked, only wondered about his love for that poem. “It brings me comfort to re-read it, even if I know it by heart.”

“A strange thing to say when you didn’t even look up to speak,” remarked Cloudia.

“That does not make my words any less true,” Oscar retorted. He flipped through a few more pages before he finally raised his head and fixed his eyes on her. They shone in the dim light like two pale dewdrops. “Did you do anything you wish to tell me?”

“No, but…” Cloudia considered him for a moment. She did not quite know if this was her exhaustion speaking or if she had been briefly possessed when she said, “You were married once, weren’t you, Oscar?”

Oscar straightened up in his seat. “Yes, I was. I am.”

“How did you figure out that you liked Trudy like that?”

The library was dead quiet for a few minutes before Oscar spoke at last. “I advise you to take all your questions to Williams, or one of your aunts and cousins.”

“I don’t want to talk to them about this,” Cloudia told him. “I’ve heard enough from Cecelia regarding this topic, and I would say that none of it was useful; it was mostly exasperating. I don’t feel comfortable speaking to my aunts about this, and I have talked to my cousins about this before – or, rather, I have listened to them converse about this. I also went to Kamden already. Nothing has helped me yet. I think I need more opinions on this because this is such an annoying state to exist in, and I suppose you’re better than nothing. After all, you have experienced love yourself.” As soon as the last sentence left her mouth, Cloudia wanted to take it back, take the entire conversation back and pretend she had never raised the topic, but then Oscar replied before she could.

“I am certain you can find someone else who is better equipped at this than me,” Oscar said and played with the edge of a book page. “My experience was, is, hardly considered normal.”

“Well, I don’t feel particularly normal about this either. So?”

He drew his fingers along the sides of his book but kept his eyes on Cloudia as he said quietly, “Because it was always only Trudy. I’ve never been in love with anyone before I met her, and I will never be again.”

Cloudia blinked at him. “What do you mean?” she asked and sat up quietly, settling herself properly into the chaise longue while she listened to Oscar.

“My mother gave her heart to my father, and it ate her from within,” Oscar continued haltingly. “I doubted I would ever experience anything like that myself, and I did not care that I would never. Growing up, I rarely had anything to do with children my age, but I would overhear conversations now and then. I never understood their infatuations, how they filled them with so much pain, and how people still couldn’t live without them.

“When I joined the army, I was surrounded by people my age and much older. I was often invited to go along with them to town, though I would always decline. I couldn’t grasp why they needed to be with people in this manner…” Oscar cleared his throat. “I certainly had no desire or understanding for it beyond the basics. I had never been drawn to anyone like that as they were.” He paused for a moment, and when he resumed to speak, his voice was soft and quiet even if his words only came out hesitantly. And while his gaze was directed at Cloudia, he was seeing someone else. “I was twenty-one years old when I first met Trudy, and it took a few more years until things changed. If I had never encountered her, I would have never got married, I would have never had any children. Meeting her was an anomaly that could never be repeated, a chance so small it was almost an impossibility. I loved her first, and I loved her last, and I will continue to love her even if she is not there anymore because she is the only one I can feel this way towards.”

Oscar gazed down at the book in his lap. “What I felt for her was so foreign that I could not tell from the start what it was. I told you before that her friend had to help me out. My experience was not like anyone else’s I knew, not like anyone else’s he knew either, but he could still identify it and make me realise that this was what it was. Just because my experience might have been… strange, it was not less correct than anyone else’s. There was one for me; there are many possibilities for others.

“Love, as I have come to understand, has existed since forever, and though its conceptualisation was transformed numerously with the changing times and societal evolution, it remained unexplainable and unbound at its core.” Oscar paused. “And I’ve done a lot of research back then, to understand.”

And then, before Cloudia could let his words sink in and say anything in response, Oscar abruptly closed his book and continued, “But I also know that one can be drawn to someone else for other reasons beyond physical and romantic ones, beyond familial and friendly ones too. I would investigate the source properly before acting upon anything thoughtlessly.”

“Well, that was my plan,” Cloudia said. She was too tired to consider what he said properly, though his words had made her head spin with thoughts that would have to be sorted out tomorrow. “I’ve been agonising about this matter for a few weeks now, and, thankfully, Milton is fine with me tal…” She clasped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes widened. She hadn’t meant to say his name, not with Cecelia’s threat still so present in her mind, and it made her heart race that she had.

Oscar looked up again, peered at her through his shining, unreadable blue eyes. “Milton, huh?”