#a little bit of sentimentality... as a treat...

[seraristuff]

Ah I guess I can dump a few more Shuichi headcanons here :D

- He probably has a coffee addiction and a terrible diet. Running on 50% coffee, 35% instant food, 15% actual meals. He's a good cook but just doesn't have the time to prepare food. He's pretty physically weak and gets sick easily because of that

- On that note he has a TERRIBLE sleep schedule, partially because of the coffee, partially because he doesn't keep track of the time while working, and partially because of nightmares. Lots of insomnia and possibly passing out in the middle of the day

- Despite being perfectly logical when making deductions, he's pretty emotional and sentimental, which is not very good if he's in charge of a criminal case. He has a bleeding heart and knows that often, criminals have a good (or at least understandable) reason for what they do, yet he knows the victims are hurt and he'll still need to turn the culprits in. He learned how dark humanity can be after stumbling across horrible homicide cases when young, but he still tries to see the best in everyone and minimise all the pain. He felt especially guilty and terrible after the trials in the game, partially blaming himself for the blackened's executions

- Although he has worked on many cases involving and read a lot on how to interact with them, he's really nervous and awkward around children, because what if they get mad at him and run away? What if he makes them cry?? (He'd probably panic and start crying too if he makes a child genuinely cry.) Children mostly still like him though, since he treats them like a peer and with a lot of respect. He may still be a bit too formal for their liking sometimes

- (Okay not a headcanon but I just thought of an AU where Rantaro lives and he teaches Shuichi how to track animals in the wild. Just. Imagine him on the ground, very seriously sniffing dog tracks lmao-)

- He refers the missing pets like clients, so other people may not realise he's talking about animals. He also speaks to the animals like people. ("Sir, I am once again asking you not to do that. Sir, please get away from that cup. Sir- MY DOCUMENTS-)

- Cats like to bully him because they can sense he's (affectionately and endearingly) a pathetic loser. Randomly biting him, knocking his stuff over, trying to drink his coffee, sitting on his laptop/whatever he's doing, etc. Shuichi still loves them, though. If he gets a cat I think he'd name it something elegant, and it would be the most annoying wretched little gremlin creature.

- Post game, if he's still investigating missing children/abuse cases, I like to think Maki joins him (because I love their investigation duo <3 also lots of advantages having an investigation partner). She'd find his nervousness and fumbling when talking to children hilarious, while he thinks she's like a fairy or something, with how easily she talks to and gets children to trust her. Cats are also much nicer with her than him, which Shuichi's grumpy about

- Also if Maki learns how much he likes trashy romance plotlines, she'd keep teasing him about it, but secretly enjoy them as well. They can be hopeless romantics and secret trashy romance fans together <3

Anyway I'm gonna post some nice Shuichi HCs because. Yeah.

Shuichi takes his coffee blacker than the abyss, and he'll drink this coffee all night to finish working on a case.

He's so dedicated to finding pets and lost children in canon, so I think he would REALLY put his heart into solving cases as best as he could. Especially after he goes through his character arc and learns to face harsh truths. This man will NOT stop until he's solved it and given his clients closure.

I've also said this before on my other account I think, but I also don't think Shuichi would just stop at finding lost children and pets and satisfying the client. He'd check to make sure the missing pets or children weren't being neglected or abused and try to work things out to get the kids and/or pets into safe environments, whether that is at home or in a different form of shelter.

But also, on a less serious note--because Shuichi is a tracker kind of detective, he makes for the BEST seeker in games of hide and seek. No one ever wants to play hide and seek with him because they WILL lose.

In the manga, we learned that Shuichi used to find and catch bugs as a kid--I think that he didn't keep them, though. Catch, observe, then release. I also think tracking down bugs is how Shuichi got so good at tracking down animals and even kids later down the line.

When Shuichi is to learn a new subject, he is DILIGENT in his studies. Like in his first case with the pet alligator, he will do extensive research on subjects he is given to learn about until he's enough of an expert in them for the research to serve him. Mainly, this involves pets ofc, but I bet he's also got some form of child psychology knowledge due to the fact that he had to track kids down. He probably researched why kids run away from home, and what to do about it.

And finally, my sort of crack HC: Shuichi says he hates romance novels, but I think that's a bold faced lie. I think he specifically likes trashy romance novels, because they are trashy. It's his guilty pleasure and you will NEVER get him to admit he likes such terrible romance books.

I think he likes them as a form of comedy, or a way to turn his hyperactive brain off. Kinda like how Kokichi likes straight up comedy for the same reason! But sometimes, even if it's trashy, the romance does sometimes give him the Feels. He's always ashamed when a trashy romance novel manages to move him in such ways.

[bennetsbonnet]

Two years ago today, after a decade or so of really struggling and without any understanding of why I found things so difficult, I was finally diagnosed as being autistic and then, as if me being so needed any further confirmation... one year ago today, a few months after I had first read the book, I watched Pride and Prejudice (2005) with my friend and a brand new special interest was discovered. Watching an adaptation sparked a desire for a re-read to re-acquaint myself with the characters and the story. So, I went away and did precisely that... and I was so captivated that I ended up reading Pride and Prejudice four times in ten days... which is why I am *gestures vaguely to my entire blog* the way that I am now.

I think it's an amusing coincidence that both events happened to occur on the same date a year apart! That year between being diagnosed and (re?)discovering the masterpiece that is Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice was quite painful and often lonely, but in the year since I've reconnected with books and my love of reading that had been largely absent since childhood.

After Pride and Prejudice, I of course read the other five novels, which between them have just as many hilarious, dramatic and romantic moments and fell entirely in love with Jane Austen's incredibly witty writing. Then I branched out to reading more classics and discovered other authors I adore too, such as the Brontë sisters and Elizabeth Gaskell, all of whom are incredible authors in their own right with their respective distinctive styles. So different from Austen yet equally as enjoyable!

Thanks to my love for Pride and Prejudice, I've also reconnected with my longstanding love of history that had been almost entirely extinguished after I finished my degree. I've delved into the Georgian era in far greater depth than ever before and discovered what an interesting and pivotal period it was. I still have so much to learn but it's been thoroughly enjoyable.

I've fallen in love with learning and reading again. It's been a really beautiful process and was exactly what I needed after a tough time. I owe so much to Pride and Prejudice for sparking that drive and passion for literature within a burnt-out bookworm, and it's lovely to share that passion here on this blog with others that get it, too! :)

[roukabi]

it's for real this time you guys trust me it's really gonna happen

[bird-likes-to-fandom]

hey reminder that a post about women being one of your most popular posts, when you dont do shit to actually care about women characters and instead only demonize them while lifting up male characters who act the exact same (or worse), does not excuse you from being a fucking misogynist. im sorry it's so hard to associate a word with a bad connotation with yourself, but you can either accept it and work to better yourself and your actions or you can be a hypocrite nobody with substance wants to hang around.

[vxnuslogy]

— pasalubong.

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

premise: kinich wasn't a sentimental person at heart, until you left to travel. neither was he easily upset, but here he was, undoubtedly upset that you didn't give him a gift with your recent package.

— warnings: ooc-kinich and ajaw (still havent done the new aq), he's a bit down bad, and misses you dearly.

— author's note: this is not angst despite the premise LMFAO. art credits to @.n429g on twt. | 1.6k words.

“delivery for kinich!” a mail man shouted, trying his best to not look down over the ledge the scions of the canopy is held. “delivery for ki—”

“i heard ya!” the small dragon yells, taking the sealed letter and small box from the man’s hands and throws a pouch of mora as thanks. 

the man sweat drops at the comical sight of the tiny dragonlord floating up to where kinich was. said man was dangling his legs over the ledge, hair swaying with the wind and an indifferent look on his face as he swats away his small companion and roughly takes the letter in his hands. he could only assume that the two had started another argument once again.

with a sigh, he cups a hand to his mouth and shouts, “thank you for your patronage!”

kinich looked in his direction and gave him a small nod. there were few postal workers here in natlan, so he made sure to at least pay the man generously—especially with how his legs shake and hand clutch the side of the mountain for dear life.

ajaw continued to punch and tug at his head but his attention had zeroed in on the envelope. it felt heavier than the last and you had sent a small package with it. ‘for my dearest, kinich & almighty dragon lord, ajaw.’ the small note said with your signature right below it as well as a wax seal at the corner. your penmanship makes kinich smile and before ajaw can open his mouth, he takes the grapple on his waist and zips away to find a secluded place to open your gifts. they were sacred to him and therefore had to be treated with utmost care.

when he lands on teticpac peak, he sits down by one of the rocks and gently peels away the seal. kinich makes a mental note to stop by a market to get a new container for all your letters, after all, his bedside drawer can only hold so much of you over the years. 

‘to my dearest, kinich,’

with just four words, you had him smiling like a fool. one hand propped behind his back to support his weight as he leisurely soaks in your stories like a sponge. ajaw sits by his shoulder, impatiently demanding him to open the box that came along with your letter. kinich was not even half way with reading before he relented—you always had a knack for making pages and pages of stories, but he didn’t mind. you have been away for nearly 7 years now and send only a letter or two every few years. kinich learned to appreciate the pages of your love every time they arrive.

“hurry up!” ajaw demanded, waiting with bated breath as kinich opened the box. “learn to be patient, ajaw.”

the dragon only huffed and turned around but it didn’t take long before he dove head first into the array of gifts. while his little companion drowned in material luxuries, kinich took out items in piles and made a mental note to give them to their respective owners.

kinich tucked the small pouch with xilonen’s name along with your letter for her at his side. he will deliver these to her first, he concludes. as he’s sifting through the items, kinich catches a glimpse of ajaw sitting on a toy fox’s head with a small note with kachina’s name. the final item that seemed important was a small box containing colorful seashells with mualani’s name on it.

his brows furrowed in confusion as he sets all the gifts down carefully and sifts through the package one more time. and again, and again, until his lower back felt sore. ajaw noticed his antsy behavior and decided to look at what all the fuss was about. kinich sat down, head lowered with his bangs covering his eyes—ajaw was beginning to worry (but he would rather die than verbally admit it).

“hey!” ajaw turned to kinich who had stiffly stood up. clutching at your letter as the sliver of expectancy in his eyes dimmed. “don't tell me they actually forgot about you?”

“let’s go back,” he says with a subtly sullen voice. “we have to deliver these to the others.”

ajaw makes no further comment and sits on his shoulder as they zip from one place to another. he doesn’t point out the way kinich’s eyes looked duller and the way a frown tugged at his lips—he was upset. 

“hmph! i'll be sure to show them a piece of my mind when they get back!" the dragon complains to him as they arrive back home. kinich beelined his way back to his residence, a bit more aggressive than he normally would.

he doesn’t want to admit that he was upset—it was stupid. so what if you didn’t get him a gift after not hearing from you for almost a year? but how come everyone else had one? hell even citlani and mavuika received one, so why didn’t he?

with a click of his tongue he pushed past all the people in his way, muttering half hearted apologies here and there as ajaw kept calling his name. kinich was not upset nor was he disappointed—he wasn’t a child chasing after the trail of gold you left behind anymore. he was an adult now, someone people look up to and admire. kinich was no longer the shy kid that always wondered if he could ever chase after you.

“kinich!”

with the shout of his name, he was taken back to memory lane. how you would call to him from the ground, a pair of wheels at your feet as you glided through the rocky terrain as if it were made of ice. the smile you flash him as you point to your finish line makes his heart skip a few beats, rendering him only to reply in a nod because his mind has turned into a mushy puddle. 

“kinich!”

you have always been golden in his eyes. smiles bright like the sun, kindness gentle like its morning rays, and hypnotizing in the starry trail you leave behind. kinich remembers the first time he tried his hands on rollerblades. he felt unwittingly afraid of standing on his own two feet, the possibility of his world turning upside down with one single step scared him. but you were always there to ward away his fears. it wasn’t long before he took them off and said with a dead expression that he will never try them again. the laugh that he managed to steal from your lungs made all his suffering worth it.

“kinich!”

he doesn’t like letting things go, not when you’ve taught him how to cherish every little thing. but he’d hate himself if he kept you from your dreams. so there he was, all those years ago, standing by natlan’s borders, unable to say goodbye as the rest bid theirs. you had to make him face you—gently cupping his jaw with both hands and flashing a small smile, giving him a tempting offer.

“let me stay,” you said. you were willing to give up your dreams if it meant making him happy. kinich didn’t want his happiness, he wanted yours.

“leave,” he said bluntly. it made you laugh because it sounded incredibly rude, but the way he held your hand in his shaking hold, lip bitten until it almost bled, everyone knew he was struggling the most.

“i’ll give you souvenirs,” you offered as consultation and it took every willpower he had to say he only wanted you. 

“i’ll keep them safe.” he replied and you smiled.

“kinich!”

urging you to travel has been the best and worst decision in his life—you were enjoying your life but he was stuck missing you. his longing for the sun in his life greatly outweighed his happiness for you. how can he be happy when happiness is spelled with your name? the way you smile, and the way you leave a golden trail?

“kinich.”

“ajaw, enou—” his sentence was cut off when he turned to look at the smiling faces of his tribe. brows furrowed in confusion as he searched the crowd for a certain green dragon, but all his eyes could see was gold.

the wind in his lungs was stolen as the images of smiling faces turn to fade, his attention solely on you in the distance, ajaw by your side as you both waved him over. as fast as the winds could take him, kinich ran straight in your arms—his home. your laugh ringed like morning birds and your hands felt warm like the afternoon heat. you were home; you were his gift.

“pasalubong, for kinich,” you say with a teasing lilt to your voice. 

“pasalubong?” he repeats, hands coming to cradle your smiling face. “what does that mean?”

you smile wider and hold his hands with your own. “it means gifts given by homecomers. but,” you tuck away a stray piece of his hair behind his ear as you tempt him in another embrace. “it can also mean ‘to meet again.’”

kinich laughed—airy and bright, like the setting sun. this was so you, he thought, burying his head in your neck. trying to make up for all the lost physical contact he had missed. 

“thank you for the gift.” he said with a smile.

you pat him on the back and hummed in delight. “i came back just for you.”

“i’m honered,” he jests and takes a step back, not letting your hand go. “you should be! the trip back home is nothing short of tedious!”

he chuckles because kinich knows he’s a goner. no need for xilonen’s amused teasing, mualani’s persistence and kachina’s curiosity. everyone in his tribe and maybe even natlan knew, kinich would wait for you knowing you’ll eventually come home to him.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[highvern]

Dessert First

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

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

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

Length: ~21k

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

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

collab m.list || m.list

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

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

It starts with the coffee maker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep, that’s me.”

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

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

“Cream? Sugar?”

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu.

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

Fuck.

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

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

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks.

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

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

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

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

“I’m the owner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“We’re…friends of friends.” 

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

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

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

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

“You can ask,” he says.

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

“When did all this happen?”

“Last year.”

“I didn’t know you quit your job.”

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

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

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

“Not like that!” you gasp.

“I didn’t say anything!” he argues.

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

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

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

“Oh, that’s it?” 

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

“Like how?”

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

“They come in a lot…” Mingyu winces.

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

“Sorry we’re late!” Sarah announces.

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

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

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

“All right, let’s talk dates—”

“Six weeks,” Joshua says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chocolate,” Sarah says.

“Lemon!” Joshua adds.

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

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

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

“That’ll be perfect!” Sarah claps.

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

“Six weeks?” he asks.

“How do you think I feel?”

“The pay is that good?”

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

“Where the fuck is Antibes?” Mingyu blurts.

“France.”

“Well, shit.”

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

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

“I’m not that bad!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “You will never guess who the baker is.”

“Mingyu.”

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

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

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

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

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

“So how is he?”

“I thought you knew everything?”

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

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

“Sounds like you wish he did.”

“Ew, no.”

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

“I would.”

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m not that easy.”

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

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

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

“Why are you invested in my sex life?”

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

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

“He looked good, didn’t he?”

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

“And?”

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu: aye aye captain

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

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

“I hear firing your assistant is too.”

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

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

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

And then it rained that entire weekend.

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.” You shrugged, racking the balls.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, now get in position.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just have to survive.

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

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

“Is Mingyu—”

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

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

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

You’re happy for him. 

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it stays out.

“Damn it,” you hear Mingyu curse.

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

Mistake.

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

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

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

“Got it!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fixed it?” you ask.

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

“Well, hopefully it’s fixed.”

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

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

Sarah: traffic still backed up :( probably another hour

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

“I’m going back out front.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask, not looking up.

“People tend to prefer their cakes without shells.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m going to kill you!”

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

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

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

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

Mingyu kisses you again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One: he is your ex-boyfriend.

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

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

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

“Sorry we’re late,” Joshua says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know anyone getting married?”

“We know the same people,” he laughed.

“You’re not helping!” you whined.

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

Gotcha, you thought.

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

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

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

A wicked grin splits your face. “Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the meantime, you just have to survive.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi. What?”

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

“Your what did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure? That’s a long drive…”

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

“How considerate,” Mingyu huffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopefully.

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

“You are not wearing that,” you say.

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

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

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

“Ecstatic.”

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Ellery.

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

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

“Please don’t say anything stupid.”

“When have I ever—”

“I’m serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are so painfully cliche.”

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

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

“Absolutely,” you nod.

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

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

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

Y/N: don’t hate me

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

Great.

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

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

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

Seungkwan: things are great! (not lying)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d it go?”

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

“I can drive,” Mingyu offers.

“I don’t think so.”

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

Incoming Call…Jeonghan Yoon

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

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

“Yeah, I guess.”

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Bye.” 

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

“Date?” Mingyu asks.

You prickle. “No.”

“It’s fine if it is. I don’t—”

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

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

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

“It’s not a date.”

“Okay, it’s not a date.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

“What the hell?”

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

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

“It’s exactly what you think it is.”

A long sigh leaves your nose. “Great.”

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

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

You hesitate. “That might be the spare.”

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

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

“In this weather?” Mingyu asks.

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mingyu,” you moan.

“God, you’re so wet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit,” Mingyu gasps.

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

“Fuck, babe,” he keens. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gonna c-come.”

“Good,” he croaks. “Want you to.”

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

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

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

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

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

Memories of last night assault you.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, yeah.”

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

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

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

“How much will that cost?”

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

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

“Thank you, Stuart.”

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

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

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

“Mistake?”

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

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

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

Literally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You freeze.

This cannot be happening.

“Y/N,” Mingyu whimpers.

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Mingyu’s disembodied voice shudders.

And how he sounds when he’s coming.

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

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

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

You don’t sleep a wink.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry I have a fucking job!”

“It’s not about that!” he argued.

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

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

“What?” Mingyu said.

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

Until you didn’t.

“We should break up.”

“Fine,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone laughs. 

“It was an accident!” Sarah argues. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you and the baker…”

There it is. 

“I will kill you where you stand.”

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

“Michael,” you shrug.

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

“Okay, but he isn’t as annoying.”

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

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

“Been there, done that,” you mumble.

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“No,” you say stubbornly.

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

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

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

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

“Go get ‘em tiger.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu blinks in confusion. “Emergency?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am a man of multitudes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I…Yeah.” 

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

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

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

It’s Mingyu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get back together…

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

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

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

The vibration of your phone snaps you back to now.

Seungkwan: ellery says no coffee for vendors

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

You type out a response while rushing out the door. 

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

Seungkwan: i told him to eat my ass

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks. I—um— I have to go.”

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

“Wait!” he calls.

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

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

“Thanks. You too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t fuck with me, old man.

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

“Coffee. Now.”

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

One down, fifty million to go.

Next is the band.

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

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

“And so I told her, I have to—”

“Excuse me,” you snap.

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

“You.”

“Me?” he replies.

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

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

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

“Chan’s in trouble,” Jun singsongs.

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

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

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

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

“Where did this end up?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

Mingyu with the cake, you remind yourself.

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

“Holly, thank god.”

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

“Upstairs. I’ll show you.”

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

“Small world,” you shrug.

“You are a horrible liar.”

“Am not!”

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

“Twice,” you say.

“Damn it.”

“What?”

“I owe Soonyoung twenty bucks.”

“You’re betting on my love life?”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“You’re telling me now.”

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

“Mingyu made your wedding cake.”

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

“What if…What if we don’t work?”

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

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

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

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll talk to him.”

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

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

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

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

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

After that is chaos.

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

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

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

And with it, Mingyu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was…unique.”

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

“You said it, not me,” you shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu’s face gives nothing away.

“Can we talk?”

He nods.

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Then what is it?”

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

There goes being subtle about it.

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

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

“You were spying on me?”

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

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

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

“I didn’t think it was an option.”

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

“I want you.”

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

“Be more specific.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I was upset about.”

“Then what was it?”

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

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

“You did?”

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

“Mingyu…”

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

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

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

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

“I forgive you.”

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

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

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

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

“What if it’s romantic?”

“I guess.”

“I named the bakery after you.”

“What?”

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

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

“Ow! What the fuck?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, we’re getting back together.”

“Thank god.” Mignyu sags with relief. 

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

“Oh really?”

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

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

“I have a few ideas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you to eat me out.”

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

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

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

“Patience.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fingers,” you moan. “Fingers too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nips your ear. “Good?”

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

“My feet hurt,” you pout.

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

“You’re the worst.”

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

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

“Let me enjoy this.”

“You’re driving me insane.”

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

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

“I was talking about the woman wearing it.”

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

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

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

Mingyu shivers. “Yeah?”

“You were the only one.”

“All mine.”

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

“Whatever you want,” he pants.

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

“What do you want?” 

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

“Then come here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mingyu,” you hiss.

“Want you to come for me again.”

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

You kiss the cord of muscle in his neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want it,” you nod, dumb.

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

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

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

“There, there, there.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“God, that’s hot,” Mingyu mutters.

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

“I can come?” 

You laugh. “Yeah, you can come.”

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

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

You knock back. “Yes!”

“I love you.”

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

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

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

“Stop staring at me. It’s creepy.”

“I’m not creepy,” he pouts.

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

“I was going for romantic.”

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

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

One turns two and two into many more.

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

2 Years Later…

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

BY JEONGHAN YOON

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

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

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @wobblewobble822

@futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially @scoupsjin

@isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy @lukeys-giggle

@aaa-sia @tinkerbell460 @gyuhao365 @ourkivee  @bokk-minnie

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@melonacco @lllucere @wwjagabeee @syluslittlecrows @yourbimbohope

@whrryuu @wonrangwoo @xchaenx @champagnenoona

[hischiershoe]

─── FLICKER AND FLAME

─── QUINN HUGHES X FEM!READER

[ summary ] A flicker of a school girl crush turned into a much bigger flame than you had ever anticipated, but you always kept it to yourself because you’d been far too scared to get burned. Until this summer. This summer you were determined to let it shine bright, but what happens when it’s blown out by the one person you kept it alive for?

[ word count ] 6.4k

[ content warnings ] angst but w a happy ending, Quinn’s a bit of a jackass, cursing, drinking mentioned, Jack yelling, kissing with some very slight heavy petting but nothing too wild

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 has always been your favorite time of the year, but not for the same reasons that most other people enjoy the warm, sunny season. It wasn’t because you were free from school, or because you got to spend your days doing nothing but lounging around and basking in the sun. It was because it was the one time of the year that you finally got to see the one person that was always on your mind. Quinn. Well, and a little bit of the other stuff, too.

You’d known the Hughes family ever since your younger brother joined the same club hockey team as their youngest, Luke, and they’d been a part of your life ever since. Their parents and yours clicked almost instantly, and what started out as simple invitations to barbecues and post-game dinners quickly shifted into residing in the same lake house for the duration of the summer and various other joint vacations. The Hughes family became a prominent fixture in your life, and yours became one in theirs.

When Quinn moved to Michigan for hockey, you realized that what you thought was a small and meaningless crush was much bigger than you had even imagined. You had grown so used to seeing him several times a month, where you could quietly observe him as he corralled the three younger boys, that you never realized it was something you’d looked forward to. It was a little creepy when you thought about it, but, in your defense, you were just a girl with a tiny crush on an older boy. However, when he was a few hundred miles away, the reality that it wasn't so tiny after all hit you like a freight train. Though, of course, you never let anyone find out about it.

Especially because you knew he would never feel the same.

Despite that minor detail, it still never deflated the excitement that swelled in your chest when you were finally on your way to Michigan for the summer. Every time you and your brother would pack up your things, load up on a plane, and head down to the lakehouse, it was like everything was falling back into place all over again. While there had been a few changes over the years, notably the lack of parental presence and lakehouse ownership, the one thing that never changed was the thrill and anticipation that poured out of everyone who crossed the threshold.

You weren’t entirely sure what had gotten into you this summer, or where the sudden confidence boost came from, but you were far more brazen and bold-faced when it came to Quinn. Okay, maybe not that much more, but you were actively making attempts to drop subtle hints that you found him attractive or going out of your way to talk to him. However, it wasn’t necessarily going in your favor as he would awkwardly mumble his responses or deflect your comments and shift the conversation to else. His callousness towards you was slowly chipping away at your enthusiasm, eating away at it until there was almost nothing left.

Of course, you knew that Quinn even remotely returning your sentiments towards him was almost as likely as him letting Jace drive the golf cart again, but deep down, you’d hoped. Hoped that he would’ve at least done more than treat you more than an inconvenience. He’d never been so apathetic towards you in the summers before, but then again, you’d always kept your distance when it came to him. You’d always been intimidated by him, afraid that you would say the wrong thing or do something embarrassing that you could never come back from, and you’re beginning to think you should’ve kept that tradition going. After all, it’d kept you safe from the sinking feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t shake now.

However, there was one instance that was constantly on your mind and left you more confused than anything. 

You had been lying out by the pool, eyes closed as the sun beat down on your glistening ski, when you heard the unmistakable sounds of laughter and playful bickering. You hadn’t bothered to look up to see who it was, assuming that it was just the usual group of rowdy boys, but you did get a little curious when you heard their voices come to an abrupt stop. You had propped yourself up on your elbows and scanned the backyard before you let your gaze fall on them, and what you saw made your jaw go slack and your eyes widen. 

The boys you had never seen before were not so subtly staring at you, and Quinn’s face was twisted in anger, an emotion that you rarely ever saw on his face, and Jack had to physically pull him away from the rest of them. You watched them with careful, curious eyes, but when Jace had finally glanced in your direction, all he did was shrug in response. Eventually, you decided that it wasn’t all that important and you relaxed into the lounger all over again, but then you heard a faint comment pass through the lips of a boy you’d never seen before.

“All I said was that Jace’s sister was hot.”

It was your brother’s idea to have a small get together at the house, and the others were quick to hop on board before going into full on planning mode. You offered to go to the liquor store with Quinn, but he was quick to point out that at least one responsible person needed to go to the grocery store with Luke and Jace. If they were sent by themselves, they’d grab one bag of chips, a tub of ice cream, and a box of Costco muffins for themselves. You knew he was right, everyone did, and that was how you begrudgingly ended up hauling the two of them into town.

“So,” Luke drawls out as he leans on the center console, “You really wanted to go with Quinn, huh?”

“She was almost ready to give up having actual food just to go with him,” Jace cheekily added, nudging his friend as they both looked at you with mischievous smiles.

“I just wanted to make sure he got my favorite drink,” You shrug as you slightly tighten your grip on the wheel, trying to keep your voice steady and nonchalant. 

Yeah, okay,” Luke snorts before he leans back into his seat, “He’s forgotten everyone’s drinks a dozen times, but he’s never forgotten yours. Not once. He even makes sure he gets it before you two get here.”

Luke’s words echo in your head for the duration of your food run, taking up so much space in your mind that you nearly forget to check the basket of food the boys had loaded up. You couldn’t help but let the new bit of information fan the small flame of hope you had left, and you left the store with a certain skip to your step that made both Luke and Jace roll their eyes. 

With testosterone filled hockey players, girlfriends, and anyone that everyone had befriended over the years scattered throughout the house, the quiet party was in full swing. You were tucked in the corner of the sofa with Alyssa and Izzy, a cup of your favorite drink in your hand as the three of you caught up with each other. Your focus kept drifting to Quinn as he stood in the kitchen talking with Josh and a few other people you vaguely recognized, and you caught yourself admiring him for far longer than what would be considered normal. 

Though you were a little happy to see that he was seemingly brushing off any girl who tried to talk to him. 

It was Trevor’s suggestion to gather around the small fire pit outside, and if there was one thing he was going to do, it was get his way. As everyone filed out of the house, you lingered in the kitchen for a few more minutes so that you could grab yourself another drink, but you quickly grew to regret that choice when you stepped through the door. All of the seats had been taken, no one daring to sit on the ground that was still slightly wet from the rain the previous evening, and you were standing there nervously gripping the cup as your eyes shifted from person to person. 

“Why don’t you just sit on Quinn’s lap or something,” Cole innocently suggested, the girl he’d met at the golf course perched on his knee.

“No,” Quinn hastily blurts before anyone else can even get a simple thought in, “That’s weird and a stupid idea.”

Your eyes immediately widen, your face heating up in embarrassment as you freeze in your spot. You can feel everyone’s gazes flickering between you and Quinn, watching as horrified tears well in your eyes, and he looks everywhere but at you. Though you can’t bring yourself to look away from him. You force yourself to watch as he shrinks into his seat, as he grips the beer bottle in his hand so tightly that you’re surprised it hasn’t shattered. You force yourself to watch how disgusted he is at the mere idea of you getting that close to him. You force yourself to feel the small flame of hope you had left be blown out by the very person you kept it alive for. 

An uncomfortable silence sticks itself to everyone, their gazes still darting between you and Quinn as they wait for someone to say something. For someone to pop the thick bubble of tension that had formed around you, but no one knew what to say. No one knew what to do. 

“I’m sorry,” Cole speaks up first, regret laced in his tone as he focuses on you, “It was just a joke. We can go grab the beanbag from upstairs for someone to sit on, so you can have a chair.”

Your eyes shone with unshed tears as you took a deep and shaky breath, finally forcing your gaze away from Quinn, “Don’t worry about it. I kind of wanted to go lie down, anyway. I’m tired.”

Without a second thought, you were turning on your heels and darting back into the house, hastily discarding your full cup on the kitchen counter as you ignored the few pleading shouts of your name. Your lungs feel like they’re burning, every breath you take acting as fuel to the ever growing fire in your chest, and you need to get away before you let yourself get burned entirely. 

As soon as you step into your room, you fling the door shut behind you before practically launching yourself onto your bed, burying your face in the mountain of pillows to muffle the mortified sobs that tore through you. Truthfully, you knew that what happened downstairs might not have seemed like a big deal to most, but to you? To you, it felt like Quinn had stood in front of an arena full of people and told them that he would never see you as anything other than Jace’s sister. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Jack’s yell filters up to your room, the anger in his voice bringing your cries to a temporary stop.

Your head perks up, and though you can’t hear who exactly is on the receiving end of Jack’s outburst, you make the obvious assumption that it’s Quinn. Whatever he said in response is too quiet for you to pick up on, but you can still hear Jack clear as day. “Do you get it? Because what you told me yesterday and what you just did isn’t adding up! Quinn, where are you going?!”

His voice is cut off by the front door slamming, and your eyes widen as you try to listen in case anything else was said, but the sound of the metal hinges slowly creaking open breaks your concentration. 

“Hey,” Jace peeks his head through the small crack in the door, his face illuminated by the small lamp on your dresser that you had left on earlier that day, “Mind if we come in?”

“Sure,” You weakly mumble, wiping at your cheeks as you sit up on your bed and move so your legs are dangling over the edge. 

He pushes the door open the rest of the way, Luke trailing behind him as they quickly rush to you and take the spot on either side of you. For a while, none of you say anything, likely all still trying to process everything that had happened. You don’t expect Luke to be the first to speak up, both because Quinn was his brother and because he’d never been all that great at comforting people anyway. Jace, despite the three year age difference, was always in your corner trying to help when he could, but you had a feeling that even he was at a loss for words right now.

“Quinn didn’t drive anywhere, did he,” You finally ask, shattering the wall of silence that had been built around you, “I know he drank a little bit tonight.”

“No. Trevor came in before them and hid everyone’s keys,” Jace’s voice was clipped, and it was then that your eyes fell to his hands that were balled into fists at his side. He was angry. No, he was livid, and it made a pit of guilt form in your stomach. You ruined his party because you let a stupid boy get to you.

“Good,” You swallow, your gaze flickering to Luke, who had a look that resembled confliction on his face with his gaze fixated on the ground beneath his feet, “That’s good.”

“Are you good,” Luke asks, his voice nearly startling you as he slightly shifts towards you, “I mean, are you okay? I don’t really know what happened down there because it all happened really fast and I’m a little drunk, but you looked sad.” 

“Yeah, Luke,” You lightly laugh as you nudge him with your shoulder, “I’m okay. Just a little upset is all, but maybe this is what I needed, you know? I’ve spent almost the entire time I’ve been here trying to get his attention, but obviously it was pointless. This is just the shock to my system I needed to move on.”

“We can go back home early if you want,” Jace softly adds on, though you can tell he doesn’t really want that, “We can pack up and go back. I can work on my breakaways and stuff with coach, and you can help me pick out stuff for my new apartment before you start your new job.”

“No. We’re not leaving,” You firmly shake your head, the sigh of relief he lets out making a small smile form on your face, “I don’t want to leave. I’ll be okay, I promise. You guys should go back outside though, liven up the party a bit.”

“Are you sure,” Jace asks, his voice tinged with hope, and his shoulders relaxing.

“I’m sure,” You teasingly roll your eyes, placing your palms in the middle of their backs before you gently shove them off your bed, “Go back out there and have fun. I’m going to try and sleep this whole thing off.”

It didn’t take much more convincing in order to get them to leave, but as soon as you were alone in your room again, you crawled under your blanket and let silent tears slide down your cheeks until you succumbed to your own emotional exhaustion. 

You weren’t entirely sure how long you had been asleep, but judging by how dark it was outside and how quiet the house was, you knew it was well into the middle of the night. You could hear Luke’s faint snores, something he only did when he had drank far too much, coming from the room next to you, and if he was asleep, it was safe to assume everyone else was, too. He’d always put up a fight to be the last person awake, not wanting to miss out on any potential action, and he would never even consider touching his bed until he knew everyone was done for the night.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you carefully slipped out of bed and tiptoed down to the kitchen, making sure to avoid the especially creaky parts of the stairs. The lack of bodies spread across the living room told you that a few of the others had either found ways home, or they walked the short trip down to Cole’s and stayed there for the night. Regardless, you were grateful for the emptiness because you didn’t have to worry about waking even more people when you searched the kitchen for something non-alcoholic to drink. 

The water pitcher was shoved to the back of the fridge, nearly invisible behind the mostly empty boxes of beer and half-eaten take out containers. Your gaze catches sight of your cup from earlier still sitting on the counter, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs all over again. You were barely conscious enough to remember what had happened when you first got up, but the cup served as a glaring reminder of Quinn’s blatant rejection from earlier. 

The blood was pounding so loudly in your ears that you didn’t hear the sound of the front door opening as you rounded the kitchen island, and you were far too focused on frantically throwing the cup in the sink that you missed the echo of footsteps nearing you. Some of the liquid had sloshed all over the countertop, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about it that much. You knew it would get cleaned up tomorrow when everyone was forced into the usual hangover fueled cleaning. 

You heard someone softly calling your name, forcing your focus in the direction that it had come from, and you came face to face with the one person you didn’t want to see. Quinn hovered a few feet away from you, his hair a wild mess on his head and his cheeks tinged a light pink from what you’re assuming is either the alcohol still in his system or from the wind biting at his skin. You watched as his eyes darted across your face, no doubt noticing how swollen your eyes were from crying, and you let your gaze fall to the floor as you crossed your arms against your chest, subtly shuffling away from him.

“Uh, what are you doing awake,” Quinn’s asks, his tone painfully awkward and strained as he brings his hand up to anxiously rub at the back of his neck.

“I just woke up to get some water,” You weakly admit, uncomfortably rocking on the balls of your feet, “Are you just getting back?”

“Yeah,” He clears his throat, “I walked down towards the marina and stayed there for a while.”

You don’t say anything in response, letting the silence prick at your skin as you chew on your bottom lip. You stood there for a few moments, debating on whether or not you wanted to try and talk to Quinn about what had happened, but you ultimately fought off the urge and silently turned on your feet. You had already been embarrassed enough for one night; The last thing you needed was for him to downright reject you to your face, so you chose to walk away.

Although Quinn desperately calls out your name, quickly closing the gap between you before he delicately grabs your bicep and keeps you in your spot. In all of the years you’d known Quinn, it was rare that the two of you ever got this close, and when you did, it made your head spin and goosebumps rise on your arms and legs. This was no exception. Your breath was caught in your throat as you slowly dragged your eyes to Quinn’s face, meeting his pleading and guilty stare.

“Please, wait,” He shakily begs, letting go of your arm when you slowly nod your head in response.

The air around you was so thick with tension that it was almost suffocating. You could barely breathe around him as it is, but now it felt like you were going to pass out. This time, you don’t move away from Quinn, choosing to stay inches away from him as he takes a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” He begins as he runs a hand through his hair, though he keeps his eyes on you, “I was an asshole, and I put you in a terrible spot in front of everyone.”

“It’s okay, Quinn,” You softly reassure, a sad smile tugging at your lips, “I’ll get over it. Besides, I think it was what I needed, you know? I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been trying to get your attention all summer, but obviously that was never going to go anywhere, so this was good for me. I’ll take the hint and leave you alone.”

“No,” Quinn hastily rushes out, the word tumbling out of his mouth so fast that it visibly shocks you, “I don’t want that. I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

His voice trails off as his eyes search your face, trying to pick up on what was going through your mind, but all he found was a combination of disbelief, and distrust. He can’t blame you for not believing what he said, of course. After all, he had done everything but give you any sort of idea that your feelings for him were returned in any capacity. 

“What do you mean,” You choke out as frustrated tears swim in your eyes. You were confused, and you could feel the snuffed out flame of hope attempting to relight itself, but you weren’t going to let it. You couldn’t.

“I know that the way I’ve been acting this summer sucks,” He acknowledges, swallowing thickly, “I know I haven’t been the best at showing how I feel, but I do like you. A lot. I just– I don’t want you to give up on me. I want to try with you the same way you’ve been trying with me.”

Your entire body freezes, a million thoughts running through your brain at a speed that makes your head hurt. It didn’t make any sense. No matter how badly you wanted it to be true, to let yourself believe that he actually meant what you said, it just didn’t add up. What if he was only saying that because he felt like he had to? Because he felt bad?

“That isn’t fair, Quinn,” Your voice wobbles as you shake your head and step away from him, “You don’t get to brush me off all summer, embarrass me in front of our friends, and then tell me that you like me. That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I know,” He surges, his voice breaking when he watches you put even more distance between the two of you, “I know it doesn’t, but I promise I will prove it to you. I’ll spend the rest of the summer and however long after that showing you that I mean it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The next day, or later in the day if you wanted to be technical, Quinn was adamant on following up on his promise to you. He was going out of his way to talk to you, to do things for you and only you, and he even made a point to talk to Jace about how he had been making you feel. When you saw your brother later on, you tried to ask him about it, but all he did was shrug in response and mumble something that you couldn’t hear. The only idea you had that he had even slightly forgiven Quinn came from watching the two of them get the small bonfire going, which was something Jace rarely ever let anyone help him do.

At first, Quinn’s attempts made you a little uneasy because the change was so drastic from how everything had been doing, but as the day went on, you slowly warmed up to it. He was slowly axing away at the wall of doubt you’d built, and you began to let yourself entertain the idea that maybe he wasn’t messing with you after all. It also helped that during a small talk with Ellen after dinner, she had let a few things ‘slip’ about her eldest son’s feelings for you. Though, you couldn’t help but think her two younger boys had something to do with that based on the interrogation you received from them afterwards. 

Before you had gone to bed that night, you called your mom on the phone and asked her opinion on what you should do. At first, you tried to avoid saying any names, choosing to say ‘a boy’ instead, but she was quick to cut you off and tell you that she knew you were talking about Quinn. She’d known about your crush on him since the day the two of you met. After you had broken down everything as best as you could, she told you that if your heart was truly telling you to give it a shot, then you should listen to it. She reminded you that allowing yourself the effort was much better than denying yourself the opportunity.

When you woke up the following morning, you didn’t have much time to focus on figuring out what you wanted to do because the boys immediately dragged you into town to grab food and more drinks for their self-declared pool day. Luke had a few of his college friends over for the weekend, which meant that the SUV you borrowed was packed full of rowdy boys, and there wasn’t a quiet moment the entire time. You barely had time to think about what you needed to grab, let alone about the internal battle you had going on.

“Who’s supposed to grill these stupid hotdogs,” You shouted over the various voices filling the space around you, waving the aforementioned package of hotdogs in the air.

“Quinn! He’s outside heating the grill up right now,” You heard Luke shout before he darted upstairs to change into his trunks.

You contemplated asking one of the others to take them out to Quinn, but, with your mom's advice ringing in your ears, you ultimately decided to do it yourself. You grabbed one of the larger baking sheets from the cabinet and used it to carry everything outside, where you saw Quinn sitting in one of the chairs near the grill. He doesn’t hear you coming, and you don’t announce yourself either.

Partly because you were nervous, and partly because you wanted to see if his promise was as ironclad as he made it seem. 

Quinn felt someone brush past him, and he had to do a double take when he saw that it was you who had slipped by. He was almost instantly rushing to his feet, the chair scraping against the concrete and his phone clattering on the table, discarded and forgotten now that you were near him. He watched as you placed the tray on the unlit side burner before taking a bashful peek over your shoulder.

“Luke said you were responsible for these,” You speak first, turning your body completely towards him. 

“Seems like I always am,” He lightly jokes, his focus shifting from your face to your hands that were nervously picking at the threads on your shorts. It was a habit you’d had for as long as he could remember.

“Yeah, I bet,” The corners of your mouth tug into a small smile, “Personally, I prefer your cooking over everyone else’s. Seems like you’re the only one who knows how to make things the way I like.”

Quinn’s face flushes at your subtle compliment, but he can’t help but let a sense of pride swell in his chest. Sure, a few summers ago he might have asked your dad to show him how to cook just for you, but it was the fact that you preferred his that really made him feel accomplished. It felt like it was the first thing he had actually gotten right with you. 

“I do my best,” He finally gets out through a shaky breath. 

“I think you’re great,” You affirm, placing a delicate hand on his bicep before you slip away and back into the house again before you overthink your fleeting touch a little too much.

Heat crawled up your neck and licked at your cheeks as you made a beeline for your room, nearly trampling Jace and Dylan when they filtered down the stairs with towels slung over their shoulders. You could hear your brother's loud shouts of mock displeasure, but you don’t pay him any mind as you burst through your room and let the door slam shut behind you. 

You felt silly, almost childish, letting a touch that you initiated affect you so deeply that it made your heart race in your chest and the skin of your palm tingle. You leaned against the wall for a few moments, trying to gather your thoughts enough so you were able to form some sort of plan to let Quinn know that you believed him. That you wanted to try and see how things with him could go.

Sure, you could outright tell him, but where’s the fun in that?

After a quick phone call to your best friend back home, you were slipping into the bathing suit she slightly coerced you into choosing and applying a very light layer of waterproof mascara to your eyes. While neither of those things were necessarily out of the ordinary from your usual routine, this time you were going downstairs with the knowledge that your effort was going to be noticed. This time, it wasn’t for nothing.

Quinn noticed the shift in your attitude the second you walked outside. Unlike yesterday, you returned the smile he tossed your way with one of your own, with the smile he’d seen on your face a dozen times before. Instead of avoiding his gaze when you grabbed your food, you hovered near him and talked to him about whatever came to mind until everyone had gotten theirs. When everyone decided to sit at the table before getting back into the pool, you made sure you got the seat next to him rather than forcing Jace to make space for you.

It was giving Quinn hope that maybe he hadn’t truly fucked things up as badly as he thought, and he was going to cling to that as long as he possibly could.

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink,” You mumble to no one in particular before you rise to your feet, knowing that almost none of them were paying attention anyway

You pull the door open and step into the cool air of the house, the sudden change in temperature causing goosebumps to litter your skin as your feet pad across the tile. Laughter and shouts from the others outside still find their way into the kitchen, and it makes a small smile form on your face when you’re tugging at the fridge door. It always made you happy; Seeing and hearing how much everyone was enjoying themselves. That was what summer was all about.

“Okay, I got it,” You heard Quinn yell from behind you, the sound of the door shutting following directly after.

You turn on your heels to face him, the notion of getting another drink long forgotten when you saw him standing there in nothing but his swimming trunks. You’d seen Quinn shirtless far too many times to count, but it never ceased to make heat rush to your cheeks and your heart thud in your chest. Little did you know, you had the same, if not worse, kind of effect on him.

Quinn has a hard time keeping his eyes on your face, the urge to let them wander to your chest and fixate on what your bathing suit barely covers becoming so strong that it was almost painful to hold back. He only lets his gaze linger for a few moments before he forces himself to move, to walk towards you in search of the excuse he used to come inside after you. 

You watch as Quinn rounds the kitchen island, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you inwardly weigh your options. Should you wait and say something to Quinn later? Wait until you had time to think about what you want to say so you don’t embarrass yourself, or should you just do it now? Ultimately, you knew your time at the lakehouse was fast approaching, and if you wanted to test the waters with him, you needed to act fast. 

After all, there’s no better time than the present, or whatever they say.

“Hey Quinn,” You softly call out as he pulls two Gatorades from the shelf.

He lets the fridge door fall shut behind him, his focus shifting back towards you where he lets his eyes drift too far south for a fleeting moment before he shamefully meets your eyes, hoping you didn’t notice. When he saw the subtle quirk of your brow, he knew he had been caught, but you don’t say anything about his wandering gaze. 

“What’s up,” He nervously clears his throat, lazily tossing the bottles on the counter before giving you his full attention. 

“So, you know Jace and I leave in like two weeks, right,” You anxiously begin, your throat growing dry and your eyes darting around the kitchen, “Well, if we’re supposed to, like, test the water or whatever, we should probably start now. Don’t you think?”

Time freezes around you, your gaze flickering back up to Quinn to watch the gears turn behind his eyes. You watch as his jaw goes slack and he slowly blinks, but the longer he stays silent, the more you want the world to swallow you whole. All of your doubts and insecurities began to bubble to the surface, and suddenly, the idea of going home early started to sound like a great idea.

“Or not,” You hastily rush out as embarrassment crawls up your spine and you step away from him, “That’s totally cool, too. I just thought–”

“I do,” His voice smothers your own, a certain urgency to his tone that forces your movements to come to a halt, “I do, I swear. I just– I can’t think because I really want to kiss you right now.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief before you find the confidence to let out a breathy, “Why don’t you then?”

In one smooth motion, Quinn is stepping towards you and tugging you into his chest by your waist, slamming his lips on yours in a kiss that nearly sends you toppling over. Luckily, his grip on you was tight enough to keep you steady, and he uses it to maneuver you so you’re pressed against the island. Your arms loop behind his neck to pull him closer, your mouths moving together in almost perfect sync in a way that made that stupid flicker of hope burst into flames and light your entire body on fire.

You can feel his hands slide down to cup the backs of your thighs, and he effortlessly lifts your body so you can feel the cool granite on your skin. His rough, calloused hands are exploring the dips and curves of your body, his touch leaving your skin hot and aching for more. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you pull Quinn even closer to you, and your fingernails leave crescent shaped divots on his shoulder blades when you slip your tongue into his mouth.

A low groan vibrates against your mouth, and Quinn’s thumb slips underneath the string of your top, his thumb delicately brushing the side of your chest. A shiver runs down your spine, and you subconsciously roll your hips against his. You can feel the effect you had on him pressed against the inside of your thigh, and it was doing wonders for your ego. Giving you the kind of motivation you needed to shove your nerves to the back of your mind.

“Dude, what is taking you so lo– Oh my god,” Jack’s voice breaks off into a horrified yell when his eyes settle on the scene before him, “Dude! We eat at that counter, what is wrong with you?!”

You and Quinn separate from each other, lips red and swollen as your necks snap towards Jack before he was turning on his heels and dashing back outside. The door slams shut when he darts back outside, the echo meshing with the sounds of your heavy breathing and Quinn’s quiet mumbles of annoyance. The pads of his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he lets his forehead fall to your shoulder, and you can’t help but a string of giggles escape through your lips.

“At least it was your brother and not mine,” You lightly tease.

“Yeah, well, Jack’s a good storyteller,” Quinn grumbles, “I’m sure he’ll give everyone a good enough image that they’ll feel like they were here.”

When the two of you recollect yourselves enough to head back outside, the looks that were being thrown in your direction confirmed that Jack had, in fact, done a good job at recounting his unfortunate interruption. Jace was staring at you with a look of utter repulsion, but you nonchalantly shrug your shoulders at him and let Quinn gently yank you into his lap. After the general round of teasing comments and hollers went around the backyard, everyone went back to normal and acted as if nothing had changed.

Not you, though.

For you, everything had changed in the best way possible, and you were determined to figure out if things between you and Quinn could blossom into something more. Into something that made all those years of pining and dreaming worth it.

[reidmotif]

birthday blues

summary: spencer hates his birthday. reader makes it a little better.

couple: spencer reid/fem!reader

category: fluff, no content warnings

wc: 1k

masterlist

Spencer Reid had never liked his birthday, plain and simple. 

There were a multitude of reasons from which this sentiment spouted from, but the overarching theme was always the same. No matter what he put into the day personally, the rewards mirrored back were limited and shoddy at best. 

It almost felt like fate, for the occasion to not be of his liking. His favorite holiday had always been Halloween, which followed shortly after the date. He supposed it was almost an act of mercy, a peace offering from some non-existent higher being. 

“Your birthday’s doomed, but here’s Halloween, at least.” 

No one really forgets Halloween. No one can really ruin Halloween. It was enough for him. 

Which is why come the day of his 30th birthday, Spencer had expected nothing. He found it easier to keep his expectations low, as to avoid disappointment when it would inevitably come. He hadn’t mentioned the date to coworkers in passing, and never expressed interest in a celebration. When no recognition came, he wasn’t surprised. It didn’t sting. It didn’t bother him. Just another day. 

Was it supposed to be special? Turning thirty? He reasoned that three decades lived on this Earth was probably worth something, considering you’d have something of a life made out by then. Some would be celebrating the families they’d created in that time, the love they’d cultivated by being here. Others would marvel at their success from when they began, at all the differences the time had brought to them. Maybe some would simply revel in the fact that there was a future at all to begin with, ready to live out the rest of it. 

What did Spencer have? There was no family for him to share his joys with. He’d been working the same job since his 20’s, no end in sight. His future seemed bleak. A monotonous repeat of the horrors he’d signed up for. 

Maybe it was good he wasn’t celebrating his birthday. He didn’t really feel like he had cause for celebration. 

That was, until a sound broke him out of his thoughts. 

“Spencer? I was hoping to catch you!” An unfamiliar voice called out to him. 

He turned around, and was met with a girl. A girl holding a .. chocolate donut? A girl whose name he could not recall, for the life of him. 

“It’s your birthday, right?” She asks, holding out the treat on a decorative napkin.

He nods, momentarily stunned into silence. His team members had forgotten. His mother had forgotten. Hell, he might’ve forgotten, but there she was. She remembered. 

She continues, despite his silence.  “You always reach for these ones on donut day. I thought it’d be a safe bet to bring to you.” She hands it out to him, a smile playing on her face.

He almost moves robotically, taking the treat from her hands and holding it, as if it was a precious jewel or maybe a ticking time-bomb. “Thank you.. Uh..” He freezes momentarily, realizing he’d accidentally revealed the nature of his forgetfulness regarding the figure in front of him. 

As she realizes what’s happening, she speaks with a teasing lilt. “You don’t remember my name, do you?” 

He sighs, nodding a bit sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I’m usually a little better with names.” 

She grins. “I’d hope so. Or is that eidetic memory they talk about around here all just a hoax? I never really thought it was possible, anyway.” 

Spencer laughs good-naturedly, his anxiety quelled by the easy-going nature of the woman in front of him. “No, no. It’s all real. I swear. I just.. have we met before? How did you know it was my birthday?” 

“The office calendar.” She replies, pointing to a small, almost forgettable scrap on the wall. It was fashioned with everyone’s birthdays from the start, but rarely anyone ever looked at it. Everyone but her, it seemed.

“And to answer your question- we have met. In passing. I’ve seen you out and about the office.” She informs, smiling softly. 

“And.. you just decided to give a gift? To a stranger?” He asks, continuously intrigued by the nature of events occurring to him at this moment. 

“Why not?” She retorts, shrugging a little. “I like giving gifts. I like birthdays. It seemed a bit like a no-brainer. You’re not really a stranger, anyway.” 

He smiles a bit at her admission. The straightforward nature of her words left him a bit delighted, almost giddy. While he still wasn’t magically convinced his birthday was a good thing because of a donut and a pretty girl, he appreciated her mindset. It was sweet. It made his heart flutter involuntarily as he took it in. 

“Well.. I appreciate it.” He says slowly, holding the donut in its napkin. “I don’t know how to thank you.” 

She seems to be disarmed by his words, understanding that somehow, this gesture means more to him than she anticipated.

“You don’t need to thank me. Enjoy the donut, and your day.” She says, voice sincere.

He nods in gratitude, now eager to dig into the delicacy in front of him. As she sauntered away, though, he realized he hadn’t gotten an answer to his first query. 

“Wait, hold on! I never got your name!” He calls out, walking towards her, trying to stop her from leaving. He had to know, at least. To maybe have a chance at speaking to her again, to understand the sweet demeanor that had been bestowed upon him, and whatever was underneath. 

She smiles, playfully, before shrugging and turning her head towards him. “Check the napkin!” She said nothing further, disappearing behind a corner to God knows where. 

He carefully lifted the donut, and besides a few smudges of chocolate, he noticed a name and a set of digits scrawled in black ink. Another present. He bit his lip, a little gleefully as he carefully folded and tucked the cloth into his pocket. 

It wasn’t as if Spencer’s birthday lost the connotation it had held for him for his whole life. The day still commemorated years of forgetfulness, from his mother, his peers, even himself- at one point. It wasn’t as if that would ever go away. 

Eventually though, the day gained new meaning for him as he ventured more and more into the remainder of his life, as Spencer would eventually remember the date– not for the disappointments and apathy it had brought to him, but rather as a much more meaningful and joyous day. One meant to be celebrated. 

The day he first spoke to his future wife. 

THIS ONE GOES OUT TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO HATE THEIR BIRTHDAY! not me. love my birthday. but it was fun getting into the head of Spencer, who probably does <3. according to the google doc i pulled this from, i wrote this in the summer of 2024, so this is OOOOLD. i kind of never planned to publish it, however, i'm looking into cross posting all my works onto ao3, and wanted to make sure this one lived on, both on tumblr and ao3. so that's why this is here. also because this is an unserious post for crosspost reasons, i played around with the theming of the post. #html warrior. :nerd emoji:. anywayyyy like and reblog if you liked, ect ect, #support writers / reblogs are the lifeblood of Tumblr!!! YAYY!!! okay!!! bye!!!

[dazedantics]

Having fallen for Bakugou due to his loud, raspy voice, it comes as a shock to notice him lowering to a softer, attempting-to-be-polite tone.

All because he fell for you too.

It's very strange and noticeable at first. You've half a mind to think something's wrong with him. Then you start to get used to it. Reserved for you and back to normal when someone interrupts. It's very sweet, makes you melt, filled with a sugary syrup feeling bubbling over.

Sure, maybe the words he means to come out as a sentimental flirt sound slightly insulting and therefore strange in such a foreign yet tender tone.

But he truly means well!

You thought you enjoyed listening to any nonsense he had to spout. Practically laying with your head propped up by your hands, kicking your feet up, smiling as you tuned in to only him. But this change made you realize there so much more you wanted to hear from him. So much you wanted pay actually pay attention to.

With all his desire at becoming the best in every aspect he chose to pursue, there'd be no end to the intrigue he'd draw from you. New habits and actions he'd try out. Just for you!

Yes, you're very enthralled by him and eager to see what other changes he'll develop.

But sometimes you do miss those times he used to treat you like everyone else. Specially his overconfident timber.

You get it sometimes, when he comes close to blowing his fuse. It's just with you he tries harder to catch himself before barking like usual. Very endearing, yes. You're happy about that. Make him aware of it.

But now you need to make him aware of how much you love his callous self. Beg him not to worry about being coarse around you all the time. Hands on his shoulders, shaking him dramatically. Every once in a while would be okay right?

He's a bit put off, confused since his friends and parents told him that people's romantic interests don't like it when one is as brash as he usually is.

He tries to figure out the balance. How to be sweet as you like of him while also gnashing like you're asking of him.

It feels weird. Really weird.

Liking people is hard.

But eventually he finds that balance, paying close attention to all your reactions to find out what's good and what's not. Sometimes, if he's preening enough from all your positive feedback, he'll smirk out a tease just before charging into battle.

And you think you may just pass out from how fast your heart beats, the overload of glee you feel from little lines unnatural.

Just from the simplest things,

Who knew there'd be so much to love about him.

[yoitsjay]

batboys and brat taming reader who is their best friend(whom they treat like a sugar baby) 👀

The wording confused me a little bit but I think I got it-

I'll take care of you.

Summary: your a brat, a best friend, and a pampered little whore. What else could you want?

Warnings: alluding to smut but none written, spoiling you rotten

Bruce Wayne:

You had known ol’ Brucie a long time. You liked to think of your friendship with him as quite stereotypical. A rich kid who befriends the poor, lowlife kid of a criminal who somehow managed to go to Gotham Academy.

Ever since you were children Bruce always took care of you, he supported you in whatever career path you chose, and when things didn't work out, you could always fall back on him and he would deal with it all. He'd offer multiple times for you to come live at the manor with him but you refused every time. (the bratty part of you just wanted to rile him up and see when he'd snap)

As you two got older, your friendship never wavered, in fact it only got stronger… and that's when the benefits really attached itself to the friends label. Bruce began refusing no for an answer, especially after a really rough run in with one of your abusive exes. He dragged your ass to the manor and set you up with a room, he started paying off any debts you owed, and he got you anything and everything you could ever want.

Yet you were still a brat… he could handle it though, because in the end he knew that your loyalty was his, and he would never betray that trust. He never wanted to lose you.

Dick Grayson:

Whether you were a family friend, or some stranger he saved / met on the street, you and Dick had become really close friends in such a short amount of time. You were both bratty in a way, and each had your fair share of breakups that you could complain about to each other.

You and Dick had a routine where you'd get together after each breakup, either at his house or at yours. You would show up with ice cream, snacks and other things.

and by the end of the night he'd have his cock shoved up your cunt, or your mouth and you both let out your frustrations.

Dick also spoiled the shit out of you. He paid your bills, and was more than happy to do so, he also bought you whatever you wanted, similar to Bruce, and you didn't even have to ask for half the things that he gifted you.

You didnt concider yourself a sugar baby, not until your friends were gossiping about Dick, and told you that he either wanted you to be his girlfriend, or he wanted to keep fucking you, so he spoiled you to gain favor.

either way you shrugged. “And in the end my bills are paid, i have no debt, and i'm happy and have an awesome friend. Sugar baby, girlfriend, I'm taken care of either way.” You told them, and they just laughed and carried on.

In terms of brattiness, he's the brat, always whining, clawing at you for attention, you gotta put that boy on a leash just to get a break, though you found a way to get him to do what you want…

just a spread of the legs.

Jason Todd:

He has no time for brats, he's a busy man, and he could easily have anyone else to have fun with, but he wanted you, wanted to hang out with you. You were Jason’s friend for who knows how long, so he learned how to deal with your attitude long ago.

Food, most of the time, more often than not, something shoved in your mouth… like his fingers… or his cock.

Just something to suck on, that's all you needed to be satisfied.

Though, he always goes out of his way to make you feel good too, maybe he doesn't spoil you with material items, i feel like Jason is a bit more sentimental, so instead he takes you out to nice restaurants, amusement parks, rage rooms lazer tag- anything and anywhere as long as he gets to spend time with you.

He has no need for a girlfriend either, because he has you, his best friend that he gets to fuck- whats better than that.

Tim Drake:

You're his assistant at Wayne Enterprises, you had been working under him for the past couple of years, since you were about 16 and started your internship there. You both went to the Academy too, so it was easy for you and Tim to fall into a routine together. He'd come to your place and pick you up every morning, you'd get coffee then go to school on the weekdays, then when you worked on the weekends he would come pick you up again, and instead you'd go to work.

You were and are the best damn assistant he's ever had, you had a fiery spirit and didn't let anyone talk down to you, you made people see you as an equal, always. Even Bruce appreciated the way you stood up for yourself and those around you.

You were also attentive to all of Tim’s needs. Yeah that's what an assistant did, but you did way more. And because of the things you did, he would give you constant pay raises, or bonuses for your hard work… Then he started picking up little nick nacks that he knew you liked, he started paying attention to your coffee order, and he'd go buy you coffee.

Best part was, you didn't even notice that he was spoiling you, but your coworkers sure did, and they started the gossip train about you being Tim’s sugar baby.

When it finally reached yours and Tim’s ears, you kind of gave each other a look from across the office.

And then you fell into another rhythm… every day at 2 o’clock during his facetime meeting, you'd be under his desk…

if you could make him break, he’d give you his black card.

This was an arrangement you could get behind.

Damian Wayne:

For some reason you caught his eye. Don't worry, it baffled him too. He didn't understand why he found you so exhilarating.

He hated it.

He talked to you, but he'd degrade you,make fun of you, every chance he got, but he'd always use it as an excuse to get close to you.

When it was time for the senior dance, he found out that you had a few guys asking for you to be their date.

He didn't like that.

One day in the hallway, he walked up to you and he practically shoved you into the lockers. “your going to be my date to senior prom.” He demanded.

You stared at him, an unimpressed look across your face. He stammered. “I- i mean…will- will you go to senior prom with me?” he corrected his sentence-

corrected his sentence! what have you done to him?? This cold, bratty batboy, the richest kid in gotham- and he was groveling at your feet from just one look on your face.

You've reduced him to- to… a simp.

Blasphemy.

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi @only-my-unexistent-fiances

Batfam:

BW: @ilaiise

DG: @ilaiise

JT: @ilaiise

TD: @ilaiise

DW: @ilaiise

[antonsintown]

ACTS OF AFFECTION - ENHYPEN MAKNAE LINE

Jungwon stares at you from across the room. Eyes set on your figure as you sketch in your book, the pencil moving forward and backward in various motions as you reach for your eraser, promptly sighing as you notice a mistake.

Small acts of service are the ways he expresses his love. Jungwon stifles a laugh as he continues watching you. The morning had barely started before you sat yourself down with your headphones, effectively blocking out the rest of the world as you made sure to work in silence. The smile that rested on his face did nothing to hide his adoration for you.

He shows his affection when he hands you an ointment to ease the cramps on your hand after a long day of drawing or simply filling your empty bottle with water to keep you hydrated. No matter how small or big the gesture, you felt the sentiments behind them, never failing to put a smile on your face.

Other times, he's slightly worried you'll overwork yourself. In times like these, he simply likes to lightly tug your headphone away from your ear, placing a small kiss on your cheek as he hugs you, "Hey, wanna catch a break?"

And you can't ever really bring yourself to say no once you're in his embrace, looking up at him with stars in your eyes as you nod, maybe being an artist could wait for a few minutes.

__

Sunoo pouts and sighs for the hundredth time today as he peers at you, working on your newest fashion line. Yes, he is slightly bothered by the lack of attention you're giving him but, he does understand that you have to work.

But whoever said letting you work would entail him completely leaving you alone? Sunoo is already grinning as you he pulls out a cake, sitting across you on the dining table as he feeds you a piece. What a silly guy.

Sunoo's actions of love are never overbearing nor are they too modest to the point no one notices that you're even dating each other. He often likes showering you with compliments, loving you regardless of your insecurities. He will always reassure you no matter what.

Sunoo often admires you for your hard work but, he slightly worries when you push yourself too hard. Sometimes, he just likes to make a silly situation to get you laughing because, what's life if not a little bit of silliness.

Often times than not, you're left laughing in his arms, wondering how he was always so energetic, smiling at him as you shake your head, "You're actually an idiot." But you love him regardless, he knows it too.

__

Niki is currently very absorbed in his tenth round of smash bro's with the other members, laughing at them as he aggressively presses down on the buttons on the poor old tattered controller.

He's laughing until he realises he's been hearing the basketball bouncing off the ground for a good 3 hours that he's been playing, his eyes darting to the clock as he excuses himself, looking at you with a small smile as he watches you throw hoops again.

Niki is bold and shy in his loving all at once. He's pinching your cheeks, pressing soft kisses to get a reaction out of you, teasing you in front of his members but, on other occasions, he's blushing hard as he intertwines his fingers with yours, heart beating right out of his chest.

Niki often worries about you when you push yourself too hard. He knows you can take care of yourself but there will always be a part of him worrying. Although his brain is usually clouded with worries, he always thinks of ways to make you laugh your stress away.

Worried about a match? He'll come dressed up as your team's mascot. Worried about your ankle sprain? He'll treat you like a princess and carry you around everywhere. Some people ask him why he does so and he's always left speechless, why else other than the plain fact that he loves you? He wonders why they even bother asking such a dumb question.

"You look so stupid right now." You laugh as he carries you, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he supports your weight on his back easily. He's dressed in your team's mascot uniform as he grins back at you. "And? I get to take care of you and that's all I really care about."

(a/n) : no one mention the fact that i wrote more than i should've for niki 🙏🙏

[helleboretea]

Some observations on the scenes between Dr Langdon, Mel, and Terrence, the autistic patient with an ankle sprain, from an autistic person:

I’ve seen a few people comment of these scenes as the (or a) reason the dislike Langdon as a character, some with the sentiment that this makes him a bad person. I have a very different take. I personally love this storyline, I love the way it’s done. I think they wrote it just this way to illustrate a very important part about the healthcare system (and I’m talking pretty much globally here, cos it’s not just the US), which is that Dr Langdon is missing a vital part of his education. Almost all doctors are. They aren’t being taught about autism or neurodiversity or disability nearly enough, and certainly not how to properly accomodate patients who are autistic. 

I think Dr Langdon comes into the interaction with Terence the way he would any other patient, friendly, upbeat, asking whether he’d prefer Terry or Terrence, and for a neurotypical patient that would probably be a really great interaction. He’s doing the right thing - just not for this patient. And autism aside (omg I never thought I’d say that but gimme a sec), I can understand for healthcare workers how irritating it must be having patients constantly googling their symptoms and trusting what they read on the internet. We’re all for self advocacy, but WebMD can send you down needless spirals and I’ve been there so many times and literally have never had that super rare condition that I convinced myself I’m dying of at 2am. 

So it’s not surprising he get’s irritated, but, again, I’d say he handles it kinda well, in that he at least just leaves the situation and doesn’t snap at the patient or give him some long, shaming lecture. He lets Mel take him. 

Which is where we get to the bit that makes me so emotional. Mel looks at the patient’s chart and points out he’s autistic (identity first thank you!), and it so doesn’t surprise me at all when Langdon says “sprained ankle it’s not related”, because that’s literally what he’s been taught. That’s what all doctors are fucking taught. They’re kinda maybe taught what autism is (the bare bones and probably a lot of it is still outdated), but not how to talk to an autistic person, or what they might need, or even that they will just meet autistic people, no matter what department they work in. 

So it’s not necessarily that he’s ableist, it’s that he literally just doesn’t know. He makes his little comment about treating three other patients while Mel treats Terrence, because he thinks he’s just a “Dr Google”, and moves on. Because the ER is packed and they need to treat patients and ship them off.

(I’m rewatching the scene and Mel legit makes me cry here.) Mel’s interacts with Terrence when she comes in are near perfect. She closes the door and turns down the lights because he’s probably been there for hours and even if those weren’t that overwhelming at first they would be super overstimulating by then. Then she asks him his main concerns, and she listens and takes him seriously when he tells her. I’ve had a grand total of one doctor do this, and it was the safest I’ve ever felt in a medical situation. 

But then Langdon comes back. I’m not gonna lie, when Mel was talking to Terrence, and had made all those little (but impactful) accommodations, then Langdon opened the door again, I had this wave of worry through my body the first time I watched it. I thought it was going to go so differently. I thought he was opening the door and standing there because he didn’t want Mel making accommodations, that it was his way of asserting power and saying we do it my way. And I think you can tell that Mel and Terrence worried about that too. 

Nope. He came to watch. He came to observe his new trainee interact with this patient, because he was curious. He didn’t need to be there. Medicine wise, Mel would totally have it handled. 

Side note - When he asked about the pain level out of ten Terrences reply was so me! I’ve thought that every time someone talks about pain out of 10! How is anyone meant to make that assessment??

At this point you can see him realise he’s in over his head. Mel is clearly so much better equiped to talk to Terrence and make him feel safe and comfortable enough to receive care. But he just watches, in awe. Because to him there’s just difficult patients, who fight you, and make treating them harder, and non-difficult patients. But here he’s learning that there’s a way to interact with this man that isn’t difficult, that makes him feel safe, and allows treatment to be provided. And he wants to be able to do that. That’s why he asks Mel “how did you do that?” Because he wants to be better. He wants to be able to speak to other patients in that way. He clearly wants to be the best doctor, and most of that is in the procedures he does, but he knows that a lot of it will come from how he interacts with his patients too. He chooses in this moment to learn from Terrence and Mel.

Then, when he sees Terrence later to discharge him, he apologises for them getting off on the wrong foot. He doesn’t need to, but he does - because he recognises that he came at the situation wrong. And he wishes him good luck with the table tennis tournament (I’m not sure if it’s implied that Mel told him about this or that Terrence told him off screen, because he wasn’t in the room when he told Mel, and Terrence seems surprised that he mentioned it) and says "okay" with a smile when Terrence offers to teach him how to play. What starts off as a really negative interaction ends so positively. Because of Mel, and because Langdon was eager to learn. That’s why he tells her “you’re great with your patients, you even taught me a couple of things.”

That’s why this is such a fucking excellent scene/episode/series, because the issue isn’t just “oh doctors are ableist” (even though yeah, lots are), it isn’t that black and white. The issue is that there isn’t enough education. People in healthcare aren’t being taught enough about autism and the different kinds of people they’re going to come across (see sickle-cell patient, unhoused patients, victims of abuse, etc.) even if they want to be. That’s why doctors like Mel matter so so so much. That’s also why even though it would be amazing if they confirm she’s autistic, it wouldn’t be unrealistic if she’s undiagnosed. That’s why doctor Langdon says to her that sensitive people are needed there badly. Because she makes those around her better, if they just care to watch and learn.

[cosmicalily]

"what's in my bag" - ot8 skz headcanons by @cosmicalily | what i think skz's gfs would keep in their bags

author's note: a skz ver of the ateez ones i posted on @liliesformingi <3 warnings: reader is referred to as a girl, however no feminine pronouns are given (i tend to use girl/girlie kind of as a gender neutral overarching term)

bangchan & minho

the breakdown: bangchan girlies keep their bag minimal and down to the essentials, a tried and tested selection of exactly what they know they'll need while out. and, of course, a little friend to keep them company is a must, and earphones are essential for moody music listening sessions on the train! minho girlies are always prepared for any feline that might approach them, along with a sweet, subtle fragrance to enchant any non-cat walkers by! again, kept simple but sentimental; daily bits and pieces, all very well loved!

changbin & hyunjin

the breakdown: changbin girlies are the kind of people you'd meet in a restroom and they'd fix your hair for you, and their bag contents reflects that! a super cute wallet (with a pilates studio membership likely hidden inside) as well as snacks for on the go; you never know when you need a sweet treat! hyunjin girlies treat the world as their muse, adorers of any kind of physical media. they start the day with the basics, and throughout their adventures, collect little bits and pieces, probably for their journal. flowers, keychains, crystals . . . anything!

jisung & felix

the breakdown: jisung girlies are quirky and sentimental, always keeping something on hand to keep them occupied when out and about, whether it be a graphic novel, fidget or a gaming device, as well as a digicam to capture physical thoughts and memories. felix girlies are refined and reliable, with a well-stocked bag that has anything anyone might possibly need on hand. need a tampon? you know they've got you. hands are dry? this cream's scented like vanilla! they're the ultimate girls' girl!

seungmin & jeongin

the breakdown: seungmin girlies know what they want and like, and that's familiarity. a physical notebook makes them feel more in touch with the present than a phone notes app, and even though they're always one for practicality, this is a luxury they won't deny. also collectors of fluffy things; they remind them of him. jeongin girlies are always on trend and up to date; the latest phone? they preordered it a month ago. that new lip product everyone's raving about? they have it in four shades. the contents are constantly swapping in and out, lovers of trying new and fun things!

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @heartsbyani @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx @ashtxrie @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts @zelinkcrossing @urlocalmultigroupfan @shuuporanglinos @lezleeferguson-120 @r1nstaaa @bibibahngg @jessxxxfwd @koiiqqqq @lenfilms @yaniblvsh @dearmini @ilovedallywinston @0sunshinecryptid0 @peskybirdysya @channieschocco @straberieslee @hanverse-recs @skzfangirl143 @hanjiiscake | comment, dm or send an ask to be added :)

[twistedpink]

hi hi! i was wondering if you could do a clingy sebek (moment of weakness lololol)?? it may be ooc but im a bit desperate ^_^;;

I’m actually feining every time he shows up in this book. I’m the weak one.

The two of you are famous among the freshmen- Sebek and his human. The hate during class is crazy He’s not even physically clingy, but someone has the misfortune of doing one of your habits? Maybe gracing the conversation with your name? He melts. No matter how much “nicer” he’s gotten from your relationship, he will interrupt anyone to regale them of your greatness. He’s so whipped it’s not even mentioned that you’re “good for a human”, you’re just you <3

Clingy!Sebek that gets intensely sentimental when you talk about life after college. He gets so sappy thinking about how much longer he could live than you. Don’t get him wrong, he’d never scorn his long life, Sebek’s just painfully aware of your mortality. It may get a little patronizing to hear him talk about ‘defending your honour’, but he does it out of love. He knows you can take care of yourself, but “too much” is always better than “too little”!

Clingy!Sebek is trying wayyyy too hard to be professional, don’t sully his good name with your PDA!!! You get him addicted to goodnight kisses so quickly, they’re the best mix of romantic and respectful. Whenever you go to leave that little voice in his head screams “stay!!”, and on nights he doesn’t walk you home it’s more often than not you share a bed. (You couldn’t waterboard that info out of him) He never says it, but Sebek’s glad you’re here for him to “keep tabs on”. Nooooo not because he likes sharing mornings with you, how could you say that???

Clingy!Sebek escorts you to every class (“The hallways are dangerous, Prefect!”) and sticks around for the more intensive ones,, You could just be water running for flight class and he’s missing the first ten minutes of alchemy to make sure nobody flies into you without a proper scolding. And by Malleus’s grace that boy can lecture! Your classmates treat you like fine China with the looming threat of Sebek, and he wouldn’t have it any other way :)

Sebek’s only clingy because he cares, and he cares hard. You’re one of the few people blessed with his attention so I wouldn’t squander it!! He’s a prime example of “boyfriend material” once you break him in a little, so I hope you like hanging in diasomnia- he can’t just leave his post for personal matters! Grab a hot drink and watch him get to work, he’ll run himself dry eventually and Silver needs you to keep him going <3

[elysiality]

yandere alphabet — shauna shipman, the butcher.

I don't even know where you end and I begin .

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-> pairing/s - yandere ! con-wilderness ! shauna shipman x reader

-> warnings ! - canon-typical violence, mentions of cannibalism, starving, manipulation tactics, mentions of bl00d, infidelity, actually Shauna herself is a warning , violence inflicted on r!, yandere-typical antics (she's just a girl chat), spoilers for yj S3 up to ep 6!!

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

shauna is discreet about her love in the wilderness . or at least, she's deluding herself into thinking she's disguising the crazy . (spoiler alert: she's not .) still, her love language is more acts of service . giving you extra meat in your food . making sure you always have warm clothes . popping into your hut at least eight times a day (much to mari's annoyance— boohoo . she shouldn't have roomed with you then .) to make sure you're hydrated . I don't believe her affection would go as far as serving you a literal head on a silver platter (moreso due to the lack of silver platters in the middle of buttfuck nowhere than anything else) but she's not against the sentiment .

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

v. veeery messy . she's the girl who accidentally became important at work and she hates it— but that doesn't necessarily mean she sucks at the work itself . it's a lot more grisly to gut humans than it is to gut bears and deers but for you, she pushes through . she doesn't immediately resort to murder— not under nat's watchful eye, to her credit . there's strength in numbers, after all . still, she has no problem serving up soccer-player-soup as the main course the day after she catches one of the more unimportant, npc survivors shooting their shot with you .

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

well there's not much abduction happening, truth be told . you're trapped in the middle of nowhere with not a fast food restaurant in sight and a need for a piss bucket with the knowledge that attempting to leave means either getting hunted down for your meat or dying to 'natural causes' (falling off a steep cliff) . but if she moves you into her hut, expect some daily taunting .

"do you think you'll survive out here without me ?"

"you know that if you run away, I'll hunt you down, right ?"

just general stuff like that . enough to make sure you're not considering moving back in with mari anytime soon .

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

oh hell yes . shauna has no concept of 'drawing a line', because that's just what her relationship with jackie was like . the lines between her becoming jackie and wanting to be with jackie were lines that were virtually non-existent . you're the shauna to her jackie . she does love you . she does . but she thinks more of you like a pet, even though she's in love with you . and well, pet owners don't generally ask their pets what their boundaries are, right ?

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

depends on how far your relationship gets . before you lose your sanity and give in anyway . shauna was always a closed off person . even with jackie, little miss communication issues could never confide what she felt to her . since you're the shauna in this relationship, she's a bit more loose, mostly because she's the one in control . shauna is most comfortable when she has full control over something . she'll only truly start to express herself around you when she sees that you're starting to crack .

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

no . just no . fighting back is not something shauna allows . the very first time you act out, she starves you, refusing to serve you anything other than plain water . not even nat could cooerce her into feeding you . she sits near to the door of the hut, sharpening her knife and glaring at anyone who looks like they might be plotting to, y'know, keep you alive . you only get your eating privileges back when you apologise to her, and then she'll feed you herself, placing gentle kisses to your forehead . and you will apologise to her . don't fuck with the girl who makes your food, after all .

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

yes, this is a game to her . you're the lamb very wittingly stuck in the slaughterhouse but unable to do anything about it . she wasn't the best at maths, but she knows how to calculate simple equations . there's nowhere to run . no one among the girls is willing to help you and coach scott has long since fucked off . no one wants to piss off the person butchering their meat so everyone keeps their trap shut, treating you like a normal person and occasionally offering a sympathetic look . watching you plot your escape is something she likes to do to pass time in the evening because she knows you're not going anywhere . it's like listening to a child describe their plans to fly to the moon . you literally can't .

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

her to-do list currently goes something like:

1. dethrone nat and become antler queen

2. kill benjamin scott

3. break you in and make you love her so that you're by her side as her consort when number 1 is fulfilled

(van once found this messily scrawled list in a loose page of shauna's journal and immediately dnf'ed.)

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

guys . this is shauna shipman . if she gets even slightly jealous— just over simple things like lottie letting you rest your head on her lap, or nat taking you out to teach you out to hunt, she goes nuclear . stakes out mel and sleeps with her very loudly, just to fuck with your head . if you don't give a shit, her next resort is violence . she has a knife and she's not afraid to use it to see if your blood is red like hers too .

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

she's big on physical touch but she won't be soft about it . she likes to trace your face with her calloused hands, hold onto your waist from behind and tuck her head into your neck but she'll be harsh about it . more dog trying to protect her favourite toy than anything . she holds onto you like a wolf is gonna emerge from nowhere and try to drag you away (a lot more likely than it would be in a usual setting). she likes kissing you more than anything else . expect her to descend on you atleast thrice a day to taste your lips and make sure it's only her that she can taste on them .

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

she's upfront about it . if she likes you, after the whole jackie situation, she just tells you immediately . again, in terms of courting, she just gives you a lot more portions of food and resources than the others get and shuts down nat's protests by just dropping her knife and refusing to carve up the meat— which is a problem since no one else learned how to do it . so everyone sucks it up and ignores the blatant favouritism . once again, do not fuck with the one making your food . or you might find a kneecap floating in your venison stew .

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

nope . as afore mentioned, shauna does literally nothing to hide the crazy— in the teen timeline anyway . we are not gonna get into the level of self-gaslighting she does as an adult . she's just as crazy on the outside as she is on the inside . she's the girl nobody wanted to sit next to in class because there was a chance she'd bite your ear off if you tried copying her answers .

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

she cheats on you, simply put . if she thinks you haven't reached the point of toxic codependency to where you'd be upset by her cheating, she just pulls out her knife and starts cutting till you apologise . once more, starving is also a common punishment .

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

basically all and any . it's not like you have many rights in this justice system you and the other girls with incomplete high school education have set up, since there's virtually nothing to worry about save for the possibility of wild predators but shauna controls all of the rights you do have— the clothes you wear, what you eat, who you talk to— she even convinces nat to put you on butchering duty with her where she just sits you down on a cut log and keeps an eye on you as she prepares the meat . since she doesn't think of you as her personal Jax doll like show-canon shauna thinks of mel, she absolutely refuses to let you wear jackie's clothes . she will lose her mind if you do and the first time you accidentally pulled on one of jackie's shirts, you ended up with so many cuts on your body that you just let shauna pick out your clothes now . spoiler alert: she makes you wear hers most of the time .

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

little to no patience . if you don't accept her love immediately, she resorts to the only other thing she knows how to do— violence, non-compliance and just generally making everyone else's humdrum, culty life hell . oh and yours, of course .

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

you're the only person she ever 'loved' after jackie died . if you died or somehow escaped into the wilderness, shauna would just spiral into depression and completely give up on everything . she doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep— she only butchers the meat she has to and slowly dies from exhaustion and just a general lack of a will to live .

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

there might be a few times that she softens up— when she sees you crying silently at night, or when she sees you flinch when she reaches out to stroke your face— and then she feels a little guilty for hurting you . she doesn't want to be a monster...but then she remembers that if she doesn't keep you safe, no one will, so she shoves her guilt aside and continues with her toxicity . she's fickle like that .

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

the whole i-got-stranded-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-with-the-soccer-team-i'm-on-and-had-to-eat-my-dead-bestfriend-slash-situationship-who's-death-was-kinda-my-fault-to-survive-and-then-lost-her-boyfriend's-baby-that-i-was-pregnant-with-thing didn't exactly do wonders for her sanity much to everyone's surprise— for some reason .

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

she hates it because it reminds her that she's not a good person . she doesn't like having her shit reflected back on her though she doesn't try to hide it . she definitely stops mid-punishment to tell you to quit the crying— when you start sobbing she just completely stops and leaves the hut till she's sure you're done . she usually tells misty or gen to go check up on you and treat your wounds and gets updates on your health (along with nasty glares on mari's side) so she knows when to go back and awkwardly cuddle you in silence till you go to sleep .

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

when I said she likes to spill blood, I mean that she makes you do it . she forces you to do it while she holds a knife to your throat, telling you that if you don't kill whoever got on the wrong side of her knife, she'll just kill you both— or kill them and keep you alive to torture you. she's malicious enough to you that you do it in fear of your life but kind enough that she'll give you a blindfold and mushroom ear plugs so you don't have to look at them or hear their dying screams . she knows what it's like to carve up a human after all— it's not pretty .

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

she has two:

1. telling her you love her (bonus if you're crying and/or bleeding while doing so) .

2. anything to do with jackie . she turns into a complete basket case when she sees you in jackie's clothes or wearing her necklace, god forbid . don't even try to taunt her about jackie's death— you won't survive . after she inflicts your punishment on you, she goes off to have a good long cry and shit-talk to that weathered journal of hers .

if you can still move your body after what she does to you, there's a high chance she won't notice you sneaking away from the village . but then again, you will also have highly trained soccer team members hunting you down— whether for your meat or to rescue you you're unsure— and to reiterate, the canadian wilderness isn't an ideal place to be when trying to escape the only 'civilization' (if you can call the village consisting of girls who are cannibals and definitely cult members as much as they try to deny it 'civil') and your crazy ex .

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

yes . next question .

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

when shauna loves, she loves deep . for heaven's sake, she still wasn't over the death of her best friend/situationship like— 25 years after she died . if she loves you to the extent of killing for you (read: making you kill for you— and occasionally her when she's feeling vicious), she worships you like a god . and yes, she hurts you though she reveres you . her god bleeds and she loves to be reminded of your mortality because it reminds her that even death can't take you from her .

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

she's had enough pining for a lifetime, thank you very much . the second she realises she's in love with you, it's over for you . your life is over because she immediately unloads it on you— she's not making the same mistake twice .

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

yes . that is one of her life goals, as previously stated, to the point where she wrote it in her journal that she leaves out in the open with the confidence that no one will want to touch it . she wants to break you in so you love her as deeply as she loves you . you're not as fucked up as she is so you can't love as strongly as she does— and she can't have that . this unrequited love bullshit is just not doing it for her .

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a/n: mm save me evil shauna, save me . I'm obsessed with whatever is wrong with this absolute nutcase of a girl . inbox reqs for yellowjackets girls (both dead and alive) are open ! be sure to check my rules before requesting anything and note that I'm open to just talk if you're into that !

[my-castles-crumbling]

dementor - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 309

The evening of October 31st, 1985 dawned cool and clear. From inside James and Lily's little cottage, Sirius peered out onto the street, watching the small children who had already gotten a start on their Trick-or-Treating, and allowed himself to get lost in thought, his emotions twisting and dark.

That is, until a hand rested on his shoulder, bringing him back to earth.

"Ever wonder what life would be like? If we didn't catch Peter?" he mumbled, turning and curling into Remus's arms, basking in the warm feeling of safety he found there.

"Only when I'm feeling particularly depressed," Remus quipped, tightening his hold on the shorter man. But after a minute, he sighed. "Awful. Gods, it would have been...unbearable."

It went unacknowledged between them that if they hadn't caught Peter, they might never have reconciled. Figured out that the other was not a traitor. Admitted to their feelings and found the love they had now.

Sirius nodded, pulling back a bit and staring into chocolate-brown eyes. "I love you. I'm so thankful we have this. Us."

But before Remus could agree, could pull him into a kiss or whisper adoring sentiments into his ear, a voice yelled from down the hall.

"Uncle Pads! Uncle Moons! Look!"

And they both turned to find Harry running toward them dressed in dark robes, a hood covering his head.

"Ah!" Remus pretended to scream, making a terrified expression.

"Isn't he scary?" Lily asked, following him, wearing cat ears and an adoring look. James followed her as well, his superhero cape trailing along behind him.

But Sirius looked at Harry a bit nervously. "Why'd you have to pick dementors, though? They're right creepy."

"Don't worry, Uncle Pads," Harry reassured him with wide green eyes, slipping his small hand into Sirius's. "Uncle Moony will protect you."

Remus's smile and nod of agreement was breathtaking.