#rendering took so much time but it was more than worth it!!!

[ellearts]

BIRTHDAY GIFT TO THE SWEETEST MOST BELOVED PERSON @urmuminnitt !!🌈🌈💕💕💕🥳🥳🌻🌻⚘⚘ I hope this day is the best for you,and I hope you like my gift from me to you <33

[stairain]

Friendly Competition.

Spencer gets a little too cocky and thinks he can please you better than a toy, so you take it upon yourself to crush his ego. 

Warnings: Sub Spencer, Dom Reader, Mommy kink, vaginal sex, degradation, begging, fake disinterest, self-doubt, crying, creampie, mating press, sex toy, all consensual.

WC: 1.4K

“You know I can do so much better than this Mommy, please..” 

Spencer pleaded, nimble fingers trembling as the vibrating bullet in his hand was practically driving him crazy. You were sitting in front of him as he knelt before you, and he was just barely holding it against your dripping folds at this point, desperate to prove to you that you surely didn’t need this stupid toy to please you. 

“Because I don’t need you right now, Spencer. You’re lucky I’m even letting you do this for me.” 

Truth be told, you knew he could do a better job than the toy shakily pressing against your clit, but shattering his ego and rendering him useless was always worth it anyways. 

The man let out a pitiful whine, jutting out his bottom lip in a defeated pout as he continued to circle the toy against the taunting bundle of nerves he so desperately wanted to taste for himself. 

He felt his chest growing heavier and his mouth practically watering at the sight of the slickened silicone that pushed the wet folds of your cunt around in his face. It was almost torture at this point. 

And not even a minute had passed before he was whimpering out again and begging you to just give him a chance. 

“M-Mommy please.. Let me do it..” 

Clicking your teeth and sighing deeply, you roll your eyes and give into the need that was pumping through the veins of his cock and brain alike. There wasn’t a hint of amusement or content in your voice at all, but it was more than a relief to hear the word, “Fine”, slip out of your mouth. 

Within seconds, Spencer had discarded the vibrator and was leaning over you on shaking elbows, mouth agape as he let out hot puffs of air between the two of you. One hand was holding up his entire body while the other was shakily grabbing himself at the base of his throbbing cock, messily running it up and down your pussy. 

The entire time he was psyching himself up, you had a look of disinterest plastered all over your face. Eyebrow cocked, lips downturned, it looked almost as if you had better things to do than be filled to the brim by the quivering man above you. 

Sure, you were far more aroused with just his tip rubbing up against you as compared to the harsh vibrations of the toy, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. It’d inflate his ego and get to his head, and no one likes a cocky boy. 

The brunet was almost in shambles by the time he finally mustered up the courage to sink into you, and it felt almost heaven sent, the way you sucked him in and molded around his shape. There was a crude squelching sound when he bottomed out, both of you being far too wet, and he almost choked on the lump in his throat at the sound alone. 

“F-Fuck.. Mm–” 

He whimpered softly, his thighs were shaking and his balls felt so full it almost hurt. It took almost everything in him to not finish right there, if he did he’d feel foolish for wasting such an opportunity. 

Lifting his head to look at you, his heart dropped and his eyes widened in surprise when he found you didn’t look like you were enjoying this nearly enough as he was, if at all. You had an expression plastered on your face that just screamed, ‘Are you done yet?’, and it made his confidence crumble in his chest. 

Maybe he wasn’t doing good enough? Not going as fast or hard as you needed, maybe that’s all it was. He didn’t want to even think about the possibility of not pleasing you like you deserved, especially when you were reacting so much more to that stupid toy he hated using so much. 

His hips began to thrust faster than before, slipping in and out of you with ease that made his head spin. And he could feel himself reaching the spot inside of you that you usually love, but right now it seemed like you weren’t even paying attention to him. 

Now he was going harder, if faster wasn’t working, surely this would. His thin hips crashed into the insides of your thighs, balls slapping crudely against the plush fat of your ass, it was too much for him but seemingly nothing for you. 

He’d had cum by now if not for the shame that was building up inside of him, he was far too distracted by the way you just weren’t responding to his rough thrusts to let himself finish. 

His cheeks burned with embarrassment and his lips quivered as his words were dying in his throat. Swallowing and looking at you with teary eyes, his voice is no louder than a shrill whisper as he pathetically begs you to, “P-Please do something”, and you just laugh in his poor little dejected face.

“You said you could do better, I’m waiting, Spence.. If you’re done, I’d like to use the toy again.”

And he just about cried in that moment, never had he felt so degraded in his life by you, and desire the feeling of his ego and confidence being crumbled before him, it only made him want to do better for you. He absolutely needed to prove to you that he’s better than any toy you could ever buy. 

Abruptly grabbing your ankles, he hiked them up to rest on his bony shoulders and practically folded you in half. Leaning over your body and pushing his cock deeper inside of your warm walls, he pressed your knees against your chest and huffed against your neck.

“Please, Mommy.. Just wanna do good for you..” 

He whispers huskily against the sweaty skin of your throat, wet tongue poking out of pink tinted lips and licking up the side of your neck to the curve of your jaw. His hips pistoned his dick impossibly faster into you, jackhammering his length as deep as your cervix would allow him to. 

You bit your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from letting it slip just how close you were, because despite the fact you were in charge and always were, he was positively ruining you right now. The leaking tip of his cock was stamping brutally against your sweet spot, and it no longer became possible to hide the tremble in your thighs that gave away the way you were about to burst. 

Smiling evilly against your jaw, sharp canines bare and sink into your flesh, making you break your composure and moan out involuntarily. Spencer’s body goes into overdrive at the sound, and he snags the skin of your ear, only to desperately whimper into it. 

“Tell me how good I’m doing Mommy, pl–oh fuck–please..” 

His hand reaches down to rub against your sensitive clit and you almost lose it, throwing your head back and sighing loudly. Your thighs close instinctively, but with how fast his hips were bucking up against you, they were spread wide open in an instant. 

“F-Fuck.. My god–You’re doing so good, baby..” 

You groan out and squeeze your eyes shut as you can feel your orgasm not so subtly creeping up on you. Spencer whines out when he feels your cunt clench around him even tighter, feeling as though he was being forced out of your walls with how fixed around him you were. 

“Look at me, Mommy.. Please look at me..” 

He begs you desperately, not being able to bring himself to finish inside of you before you gush around him like he needed you to. And as soon as your blissed out eyes met his that were dripping with tears, your jaw dropped open in a choked out cry as you came around his cock. 

Sticky fluids of your release leaked from around his length and left a creamy ring around the base that almost had him fainting. His thrusts turned frantic and sloppy, and wanton sobs forced themselves out of his throat as he pushed himself as deep as possible and flooded your cunt with ribbons of thick, warm cum. 

Your eyes crossed and rolled into the back of your head at the feeling of him spilling his cum and fucking it into you. He did his best to gracefully collapse against your sweat slicked body. The both of you panted in unison as you laid in silence for several minutes, which were absolutely necessary after absolutely defiling each other. 

Spencer raised his head from your chest, and with brown curls sticking adorably to his forehead, he almost too bashfully asks you, “D-Did I do good?”.  

Scoffing in amusement and rolling your eyes, you pull his head back down against you, running your fingers through his sweaty hair and sarcastically muttering, “I think I’ll keep you around.” 

[starrysvn]

place in me | jung wooyoung

pairing: chef!wooyoung x chef!gn reader

genre: angst, slow burn, fluff, ex2l

word count: 17k

warnings: angsty af, kinda toxic workplace, food, drinking, i know jackshit about cooking apart from hell's kitchen, masterchef and google searches, one (1) sex joke, reader is kinda dumb.

a/n: this has been in the works since march. i gotta stop procrastinating. anyhoww, i cited "m. butterfly" by david henry hwang and reworked one of my favorite quotes ever from "jane eyre" by charlotte brontë bc i luv her. hope u guys enjoy it <3

networks: @cromernet 🫶🏻

playlist: beside you by 5sos, finally // beautiful stranger by halsey, sparks fly by taylor swift, sorry by halsey, back to december by taylor swift, right where you left me by taylor swift, the winner takes it all by abba, haunted by taylor swift, amnesia by 5sos, place in me by luke hemmings

masterlist | navi

During quiet nights you worked best. It had always been that way ever since you were a student and you didn’t think things would change. Not when the kitchen was completely silent except for the slow rumbling of whatever you had on the stove and the swift swish of your chopping knife against the cutting board. You loved listening to music while cooking, but on nights like these, you preferred the muffled sounds of the city coming in from the cracked open window and the occasional humming that left your mouth. 

It was peaceful enough to remember why you loved cooking so much. Not that you ever forgot but, lately, it was hard to find joy in your job. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen kept you busy enough to render your work almost mechanical, punctuated by the quick rhythm of orders coming in. All the loud noises around you sent you into a frenzy more often than not. 

It was on nights like these - in the kitchen of your own apartment, off duty for the evening - immersed in the mellow atmosphere you created, that you wondered if it had all been worth it. The studying, the getting yelled at, Paris… If it had all brought you to this - working in a Michelin star restaurant you had only ever dreamed of setting foot in -  but could never get you anywhere past it. If this was your final dream, your last ambition, then why did it all feel so heavy? 

It was a question you could never answer. You took great pride in your work and in yourself for getting you where you were. You liked some of your fellow chefs, and the reaction your answer got out of people when they asked you where you worked. It lit a match in you, it felt like a pat on the shoulder to your younger self. But when you got home exhausted and so not ready to face it all again the next morning, doubt clung heavily to your mind. 

You turned off the burner with a sour taste in your mouth you knew only your cooking could melt away. Sat down in front of your gamjatang, you took a big breath before diving in. You had avoided the dish like the plague ever since then, but somehow tonight your hands moved for you when reaching for the ingredients. The circumstances couldn’t have been more different than when you last cooked it; you weren’t hungover, it wasn’t four in the morning, and you weren’t halfway across the world with him. 

A memory pushed and shoved to come to the forefront of your mind, one about warmth and love and understanding all washing over you in the tiny kitchenette of a Paris apartment where, with him, you tipsily laughed and slow danced to the music of your hearts beating at the same time.

It wasn’t surprising that it just didn’t taste the same. Recipe and execution-wise it was perfect, you couldn’t count the amount of times you cooked the soup. But it tasted off, somehow. And right now you didn’t have the mental capacity to analyze why. So you just ate in silence, a slight frown on your lips with every spoonful, grateful you only had to load the washing machine before going to bed, disappointed your peaceful night of cooking had been ruined. 

–

“What’s got your panties in a twist today?” 

Park Seonghwa was your favorite coworker. You two started working at Hwang’s at the same time and bonded pretty quickly. He was quiet and focused, a perfectionist when it came to his job and never really contributed to the migraine-inducing bustling crowd of chefs around you. He also would never dare to speak like this when you both were in earshot of the sous chef. You sighed. Apparently, you had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and proceeded to grill your junior chef Jongho with more bite than usual. 

“Please don’t say that when Seo’s so close to us,” you flashed him a warning look which was met with a mischievous smirk. 

“We all know you’re aiming for his spot, with the scolding you just did he can only be proud,” the sous chef in your kitchen had the reputation of being even worse than head chef Lee, truly the bane of everyone’s existence. You didn’t want to be like him. 

“Oh, lord,” you shook your head, slowing down your chopping the slightest bit. You’d woken up with a headache after a fitful night of sleep, already frustrated with the world before even facing it. Missing the bus and clocking in late didn’t help either, not when you were greeted with a murderous glare from the head chef. You didn’t mean to be snappy with your junior, but things had inevitably piled up. 

“I don’t even know if I want the position anymore,” you grunted under your breath, earning a soft giggle from Seonghwa.

“Careful saying that out loud, or the vultures will try even harder to take you down,” he knew better than to bump his shoulder with yours, lest he interrupted your furious chopping and ended up being the reason you lost a finger, but did it anyway. The sweet gesture comforted you, surprisingly you didn’t feel the urge to bite his head off. 

“Let them,” you meant the words to sound a little less disheartened than they did, but all of last night’s thinking had seemingly gotten to you. Seonghwa gave you a confused look but could say little before being interrupted. 

“Executive Chef Kim needs to speak to you,” the eyes of the whole kitchen were on you as a sort of stillness descended upon everyone. Even Seonghwa beside you looked surprised, even if less than everyone else. You knew in his head he was probably cooking up some joke about you being the next tyrant sous. 

There were two ways this encounter could go: either fire you or promote you. A conviction that grew stronger when you entered the still-empty restaurant and sat at a table were not only the executive chef, but also the owner and manager, waiting for you. Why would they do this hours before opening? 

“Thank you for joining us,” manager Na said as soon as you sat down in front of them. “As you may be aware, chef Kim and chef Lee have had their eyes on you as a possible candidate to replace chef Seo once he retires.” Her piercing eyes stared deep into your soul. You nodded, almost afraid to speak, wondering why in the world you chose to work for such intimidating people. 

“I’m afraid you will not be taking that spot.” 

A low blow. Somehow, even when you were neither too hopeful nor too enthusiastic about becoming sous chef, the rejection still hurt. It still sent a jolt of disappointment and self-doubt shooting through you. Were you not doing a good job? Were you not up to their standards? 

“However,” you looked up again, your eyes now on executive chef Kim. “Mr. Hwang is opening up another restaurant.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” you mumbled, wheels slowly turning in your head. Manager Na smiled knowingly. 

“I would like to give you the opportunity to become head chef in my new restaurant,” Mr. Hwang said. “I’m told by chef Kim and chef Lee that you would fit the position better than the one of sous chef. I trust their judgment.” 

It took all you had not to let your jaw hang in front of them. Head chef? Had they lost their minds? Never had your mind taken the decision for you before you could even rationalize your thoughts. 

“Could I think about it?” 

“Time ticks fast here, you know that chef Y/L/N,” Manager Na’s intimidating eyes were on you again. “We’d like to have an answer in two days at most.” 

With a curt nod, they dismissed you. You didn’t think you had ever made a beeline for the bathroom so fast in your entire life. Surely, you couldn’t go back into the kitchen looking like your cat just died. Everybody would know something was wrong, they would know that the position as sous was still free and you had been shot down. And there was little they could do better than kicking a man when he was down. 

So you sat in the cubicle, trying to calm your shaking hands and regain composure. Act like nothing happened. Betray no emotion. Go back to dicing potatoes exactly one centimeter by one centimeter. Not a millimeter more, not one less. 

Assholes. All of them. They couldn’t have chosen a better moment to tell you this than the most hectic night of the week. And now you’d have to work through it. Through the eyes trailed on you, holding questions and spite and jealousy. Through chef Lee’s and chef Seo’s yelled reprimanding, making sure everything was just perfect for the critic coming in.

Just one more night.

Never had you held on so tightly to such meager consolation. 

–

“You look like you need a beer.” 

Seonghwa’s voice broke the silence of the back alley. After closing, you decided to stick around instead of fleeing home like you usually would. It had been a while since the last time you sat outside the back entrance of the kitchen, alone with your thoughts after hours of noise. 

“I need vodka,” you voiced, not looking up as he took a spot beside you.

“That’s stooping so low, what’s wrong?”

You knew the question would come. Somehow he had not asked anything when you entered the kitchen again with a blank face. A murmur had slithered past as you took your place and started working again. But Seonghwa had just shot you a look, resuming his work as well. 

“They want to make me head chef at Hwang’s new restaurant.” 

“But that’s great!” He was looking at you with those big, wide, excited eyes of his and a genuine smile on his lips. One would think the offer was made to him. You were almost sorry you had to wipe that happiness away. 

“I don’t know if I want that…”

“What do you mean?” He looked puzzled, but not surprised. You sighed. How did you explain this without sounding crazy? 

“I mean… I-” you grunted, hands in your hair. “When’s the last time you felt like cooking?” 

Seonghwa stared back with a slight frown in his brow, eyes bouncing around your face in an effort to understand. 

“Like, really cooking. Without walking into the kitchen and wanting to throw up, or dreading opening time and all the yelling. I know it’s how it is when you work for such big names but fuck. Everything’s too fast and I… it feels like I don’t care anymore, Hwa. They took my passion and stomped all over it.” 

“Didn’t you want to be a high end, gourmet restaurant chef?” 

You stared, mouth hanging open. Of course, you did. It was your biggest dream, your one ambition. It was excruciating that all the pressure was making you break, making you think that you weren’t cut out for this and you had wasted your time. 

“I did, I do.”

“But?” 

“But this isn’t it. This feels like a survival show, where everyone’s out for blood. I understand competitiveness, but I can hardly breathe when we start cooking. Chef Seo is a literal nightmare and I don’t think I can do it anymore in a place like this.” 

“I see…”

“You think I lost my mind,” you let your head tilt back, eyes on the starless night sky.

“Maybe you did,” Seonghwa said. “That doesn’t mean you’re wrong.” 

“I’ll be honest, I never thought I’d hear you like this,” he continued. “You hold such pride for what you do and how you do it. I think Seo might yell at you just because he’s irritated he’s got nothing on you. Half of the people hate you for how well you manage.”

“Gee, thanks,” you scoffed.

“My point is,” he bumped his shoulder with yours. “That it’s indicative of how much this place fucking sucks if they got you breaking. A Michelin kitchen, or any kitchen for that matter, shouldn’t burn out their best chefs.” 

“Jongho is so brave for junioring here,” you deflected, allowing his words to soothe your burning wounds. 

“Hey, we did that too!”

“Yeah, and look at where it got us,” you giggled, smiling for the first time tonight. Seonghwa huffed out a laugh. 

A beat of silence passed. You were glad for Seonghwa. Even though you often joked he was just your favorite coworker, you considered him a dear friend. One of your only friends for the matter. 

“What are you gonna do?” 

“I’ll quit,” you heard his surprised gasp and chuckled. “And I’ll refuse the position. I know head chef sounds better but I know them. Manager Na and Mr. Hwang will only hire straight up assholes and I’d have to deal with it, and not even as executive chef.”

“We’re not assholes!” his hand sat on his chest in mock offense, you giggled.

“We look like assholes and do our job quietly and damn near perfectly, that’s why we’re here.” 

Mumbling something along the lines of I guess so, Seonghwa accepted the heavy truth. In the quiet alley, sitting with your friend, you felt okay. The murmur of the busy city filled your heart as you quietly giggled and remembered your first days working at Hwang’s. Goodbyes were always hard on you, but not this time. You expected gut-wrenching pain and tears and the heavy burden of failure on your shoulders as you accepted your decision. But none of it manifested, not when Seonghwa had snuck one of the most expensive bottles of wine out of the kitchen and launched himself in a perfect rendition of Chef Seo’s latest meltdown. Maybe taking a step back didn’t mean failing, something you never would’ve believed mere months ago. 

-

The sound of freedom equated to the one of your blaring alarms each morning. It had been two weeks since you had quit your job, but you still refused to get a good night’s sleep. Well, except the night you told Seonghwa and you ended up drunk off your faces. 

You rolled over, turning off the annoying alarm, ready to start another day of not knowing what to do. There were few things you enjoyed doing, apart from cooking, when all you were left with was free time and silence. It was nice getting out of the house in the early spring morning to buy groceries, go for walks, and swing by your friend’s flower shop, but it got old quickly. Mostly, you didn’t like how sometimes, while cooking, memories you tried to never think of seemed to resurface on their own. 

When you finally got to the kitchen and there was nothing but eggs in the fridge – it was shopping day – you settled on an omelette for breakfast. Only, halfway through cooking, your mind wandered back there. 

When Chef Berrien asked you to make an omelette you wanted to laugh. You didn’t though, not when you saw the serious frown he was sporting. He was being serious? The absurdity of the situation made you question if dropping everything you had back at home just to fly to Paris to master your craft had been worth it. Maybe your mother was right, maybe you were crazy. 

“Omelettes are the easiest thing to spoil,” he stood resolutely in front of you all. “Only good chefs make good omelettes.” 

Oh god, your mother was right. 

“Good luck,” a smug voice sounded from beside you. 

If there was someone who could push you over the edge Chef Berrien shoved you to, it was Jung Wooyoung. In just two weeks of sharing your working station with him, you discovered that his bubbly personality clashed with your silent brooding. You preferred to work in silence and, apparently, he thrived in chaos. 

“You too,” you grumbled, getting your few ingredients ready. How in the world were you supposed to prove your worth with a fucking omelette? You closed your eyes and sighed, getting to work. 

“That definitely looks… simple,” Wooyoung mumbled as Berrien walked through the cooking stations, pulling faces at every dish. You looked down at yours - a plain, french omelette - then at his - all prettily plated and definitely cheese filled - and bit your tongue.

“He asked for an omelette, not a Michelin star worthy breakfast,” you hastily whispered, wishing he would just shut up for once.

“Aren’t we training to be Michelin star worthy chefs?” came his rebuttal, getting on your last nerve with that pretty smirk of his. 

Pretty? 

You scoffed and shook your head, straightening your back and clearing your throat as Berrien came close to your station. When the chef’s eyes landed on your omelette, a slight frown pulled his lips downwards. As he walked away, you did your best to ignore Wooyoung’s silent snicker and the burning in your cheeks. After the evaluation, you kept quiet for the rest of the day. 

It sometimes happened that you would close off to the rest of the world, and focused only on what you were thinking and the task at hand. Most often when you were cooking, which both helped and hindered your work. As much as you needed to focus on what you were doing, you also needed to listen to orders while doing it. You hoped to get better at managing it, it was why you were here, after all. Though, for now, after a full day surrounded by people, you were happy sitting alone with your back resting against the backdoor to the kitchen. 

“Is the silent treatment payback for beating you today?”

The door flew open, making you lose balance for a second, then came his question. 

“You didn’t beat me, Wooyoung, this is not a competition,” you sighed, keeping your eyes set on the wall in front of you rather than on his figure sitting down beside you. 

“Sounds like something a sore loser would say,” he bumped his shoulder with yours, no doubt with a shit-eating grin on his lips. That did it.

“Just because your omelette got a nod and mine got a frown, it doesn’t mean yours was better!” You all but exploded, finally looking at him. Indeed, he was wearing a smug grin. 

“Well, Chef Berrien would disagree,” you scoffed as he looked at you with shiny, distracting, eyes. Was it the light from the lamppost reflected in them or had the lack of sleep finally got to your brain? You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thought.

“Fuck you too, I guess,” you finally said, turning back around, earning a laugh from him. 

You didn’t want to stop and think about why his laugh pulled a snicker out of you, making you feel so light and at ease. 

“Does this mean you’ll go back to talking to me then?” He asked, sounding a little small. “You’re not mad?” 

Something pulled at your heartstrings, hearing him ask something like that. Did he really think you were mad at him? You probably looked like an asshole for the rest of the day after Berrien barely passed your omelette. 

“I’m not,” you said much faster than you anticipated. “I never was.” 

“That’s good,” he smiled, and you weren’t sure you liked the warmth that blossomed in your chest. 

You avoided thinking of your training in Paris with all your might, and he was the reason why. But it seemed that now that your whole world had turned upside down, your brain could do nothing but. Add that to the list of things you hated about unemployment. A funny smell pulled you from your thoughts, eyes focusing back on the almost burned omelette in front of you. Mumbling curses under your breath, you turned off the heat and plated it. This was why you never let your thoughts take over. 

You ate your spoiled breakfast in silence, deciding to get started with your day and your grocery shopping, mentally listing all the food you’d need. Anything, really, at this point to keep your mind occupied with something that wasn’t him.

It was still hard for you to wrap your head around what Jung Wooyoung meant to you. Or rather, you knew perfectly well and tried to avoid it like the plague. He was a closed chapter you didn’t want to revisit simply because it hurt. Because there was a point in time where he meant the whole world to you, where he was your whole world, and you decided to burn it all down only to choke on the ashes of what it used to be. 

You left wondering if he was still writing pages or considered the story closed and done as you did. Like you had to not to drown in guilt. 

While walking down the street, warm sunlight caressing your face, you asked yourself why it was all coming back to you now. A hollow of confusion had opened up in your chest, and of its own volition your heart chose to fill it with such memories. When Wooyoung came into your life, he did so by taking it by storm; randomly, upsetting all you had ever known, and maybe at the wrong time. That didn’t mean he didn’t leave a sign, a permanent one, on your heart. And now that you were crawling in confusion, he was barging in once more.

Wooyoung was late. It was teamwork evaluation day and your project partner was nowhere to be seen. Chef Berrien had sent daggers flying your way upon seeing the empty side of your workstation, not waiting a second longer to start the class. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole and also to strangle Wooyoung on sight. There must’ve been a logical reason why he still hadn’t shown up when you were supposed to finish your three-day project. If the fucker left you alone to finish cooking lièvre à la royale, you were seriously going to give him the scolding of a lifetime.

Anxiety started to claw at your stomach, twisting it in knots and tugging at them in a way that made it harder to breathe. Under the chef’s pointed gaze you could only stay as still as possible, hoping he’d prolong his very unsubtle speech about tardiness until Wooyoung got here, praying he would, and yet cursing him in your head. 

He still hadn’t shown up when he gave the class permission to start working. You sighed in frustration, walking to the fridge to retrieve the hare you’d cooked the day before with trembling hands. Back at your station, you realized that working while checking the door every three seconds would get you nowhere, and you weren’t about to fail the assignment even if half of your team was missing. 

When the meat was finally cleaned of the jellied liquid it had sat in overnight, and you were preparing to cut it into exactly eighty grams slices - not one more, not one less, Berrien's voice sounded in your head -  the door to the kitchen burst open.

In came a panting Wooyoung, his white chef jacket buttoned up a little crooked, who tried to make his way to your station unseen. It didn’t work.

“Jung,” Berrien’s voice resonated in the hot hair of the kitchen, making everyone stop working for a beat. Too bad no one had time to spare. You started slicing. “I don’t appreciate tardiness.”

“I’m very sorry, Chef-” he held his hand up next to his face, shutting up your partner. 

“You may start cooking,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding the whole time, shoulders almost sagging in relief. “But don’t think I won’t keep this in mind during evaluation.” 

The frustration you’d tried to keep at bay so far flared up once more, and your grip on the knife tightened. Wooyoung silently made his way next to you, washing his hands carefully and using the time to assess how far you’d gotten into the process. You didn’t utter a single word, fuming quietly as you focused on your task and he picked up on his. 

You couldn’t afford to lose time bickering now, and for the first time in a while, you cooked in complete silence, the air around you tense and devoid of the usual jokes he would throw around to lift your spirits. No banter, just instructions and cooking for the next five hours. 

Despite everything, Chef Berrien couldn’t hide how pleased he was with your dish, which didn’t end up at the top of the class only because of Wooyoung’s mishap. As soon as the chef dismissed you, you fled the kitchen.

“Wait!” Wooyoung’s voice called after you, who were already outside and determined to escape to your apartment to avoid cussing him out in front of your fellow chefs, who had already thrown confused glances at you the whole day. 

“Hey, hold up!” He caught you by the wrist, spinning you around. If he wanted to do this here, who were you to deny him? 

“What.” Wooyoung almost flinched at the harshness of your voice. 

“I’m sorry I was late, I really am, I just-”

“Save it,” you cut him off. “Day’s over, damage is done, and we ended up with an alright grade. I don’t want to fight.” 

It was true. For how mad you’d been, you didn’t want to make it worse. You could tell he was sorry by the way he’d cooked in silence, waltzing around you as if you were a bomb ready to go off at any minute. It had taken all your strength not to. You made to turn around and walk away, but he was determined to make you listen to what he had to say. 

“Can you come with me?” He sounded defeated despite the determination in his eyes. All you really wanted was to go home, wash up and rot in bed. You were tired, physically and mentally drained by the day. But your friend – because how could you deny that Wooyoung had become more than a simple classmate in the last month? He’d quietly snuck up on you, surprising you with his cheerful smile and awful jokes, and slowly but steadily carved his own spot into your heart, now beating to the rhythm of his screechy laughter and kind words – was pleading you with his brown, burning eyes and how could you say no? 

Sighing in defeat, you nodded, readjusting the strap of your backpack on your shoulder and watching as his frown turned into a soft smile. Wooyoung took your hand in his, going back into the building, and guided you up the stairs. Transfixed, you stared at your hands; his felt slightly rough from all the cooking but still soft. You ignored the warmth the simple gesture sparked in your heart and followed quietly; you could only hope he wouldn’t get the two of you expelled. 

Finally, you got to the last flight of stairs, legs burning and chest heaving. You hoped he had a good reason to be dragging you up six flights of stairs and potentially getting you in trouble for trespassing. He ushered you to the small balcony, apparently mostly used for storage, and nodded to a shaky ladder perched onto its wall, leading to the roof. You often did this at your apartment too, the one perk of living on the last floor, but suddenly your mouth went dry.

“How did you even have the time to find out about this-'' you climbed the small way up, thanking your lucky star that the building at least had a flatter roof compared to yours. But the words died in your mouth when you finally got your bearings and looked around.

Wooyoung emerged as well, now leaning against one of the chimneys. You sat down, amazed at the view all around you; as the sun set in the West, tinging the bluish sky with hues of warm orange and golden light, you spotted the Sacre Coeur sitting North and the Eiffel Tower immersed in a pink blush down South. A light breeze passed by, blowing a strand of dark hair into Wooyoung’s eyes, taking your breath away. Paris was quite the show from up there. 

“I really am sorry,” slowly, he made his way over, sitting down next to you as he cast his eyes onto the breathtaking view in front of you. “I overslept, couldn’t find my keys, then had to rush here and… I’m sorry.” 

You scoffed, not believing he almost failed the both of you because he didn’t hear his alarm in the morning. Actually, you could believe it, because it was such a Wooyoung thing to do. You couldn’t stay mad for long though, not when you turned to look at him and simply seeing his face bathing in the golden sun made your heart stutter in your chest. Not when his sorry eyes were melting like honey in the light. 

“I wanted to punch you in the face when you came in late,” overwhelmed by his gaze, you looked away. Faintly, you heard him scoff beside you. “But I was also relieved. I didn’t think Berrien would let you cook.”

“I was ready to beg on my knees,” you snickered, Wooyoung elbowed your side. “No, really, lièvre à la royale is a bitch, I wouldn’t have let you cook it alone.”

“Then why did you sleep through your alarm? I was seeing red and had a knife in my hand, do you have a death wish?” You joked, heart singing when you made him laugh. 

“Hey, I had trouble sleeping last night,” he defended himself, hands up as his laughter died down. With a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes, you finally looked back at him, studying his face. Only then you noticed the purplish circles under his eyes, just a bit darker than usual.

“Why?” You asked, trying to sound less worried than how you felt. It was Wooyoung’s turn to avoid your eyes and look out at the Parisian skyline, starting to twinkle in the fast-approaching night. 

“I- well,” he sighed as you kept looking, feeling the air around you shift. The way Wooyoung was struggling to come up with an answer had you feeling like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, buzzing with expectation, hanging onto his every word. You didn’t ponder too long on why your heart was racing or why you felt like you could barely breathe. Finally, he looked at you.

“I like you.” 

Now you truly did find it hard to breathe. 

“I like you so much I can barely focus when we cook, and it’s never happened to me before because I love cooking and I always pay close attention to what I’m doing. I also don’t want to lose a finger, you know? But now you’re around and it’s like I can’t help but look at you. You’re so bright and so passionate, and when you’re chopping vegetables you scrunch your nose a little and it’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen-”

In seconds you had your lips on his, pulling him closer with a delicate hand on the back of his neck. Wooyoung froze for only a millisecond before kissing you back. His lips were so pillowy and soft, you kissed him slowly, like you had all the time in the world. Lightly, his hand traveled up to rest on yours, which had moved onto his cheek. Kissing him felt like coming home after a long day. Warm and pleasant like the flame that swallowed your heart, chasing away the menacing grip fear had on it. 

Wooyoung pulled away first if only to plant a small peck onto your lips before smiling. 

“I was speaking,” he said.

“You were rambling.” 

You both started laughing, hearts singing. 

“What I wanted to say is that you shine in your own light and I can’t help but bask in it.” 

The way he was looking at you, in ways no one ever could, could have melted you right then and there. You felt the flush rise to your cheeks, the hand that still rested on his cheek trembling lightly.

“I like you too, Jung Wooyoung,” you smiled. “More than I think I should.”

The quaint flower shop came into view, dispelling the memory, and a soft smile opened up on your lips. It didn’t look like there were any customers, so you stepped in. The colors of the pretty flowers that covered every inch of the walls always managed to put you in a better mood. You walked up to the counter, ringing the bell.

“Coming!” You heard from behind it, somewhere in the back, with a little shuffling and a loud thump. You jumped on your spot, giggling.

“You okay, Sang?” You asked, trying to peep. Your friend emerged a second later, clad in a white shirt, jeans, and his green apron, blowing a piece of his black fringe out of his eyes, a vase full of sunflowers in his hands. 

“Oh, hey, what brings you ‘round?” He smiled, setting the vase on the counter. 

“Just dropping by before going grocery shopping,” you shrugged, smiling back before you started playing softly with the leaves of the flowers near you. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m good, I should be asking how you are,” he raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, “it’s the fourth time you visit this week.” 

You rolled your eyes, used to his antics, standing to help when he nodded at you to follow him. The quietness of the shop eased your thoughts more often than not, plus, you enjoyed the company of your friend. Yeosang lived in your same apartment building and opened up his shop early in the morning, around the same time you had to leave for work. Oftentimes you shared a coffee before your obligations called. He complained about horrible customers and you complained about your horrible coworkers. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” busy with an arrangement, he nodded you to the water lilies to his right. You reached for them with an arched brow, passing them. “A restaurant is opening down the street, if you’re interested in paying rent this month.” 

You huffed a laugh, pretending to be offended. 

“I’ll have you know I save my money, thank you very much.” He stood again, having finished his composition, watching you with an amused expression. “But I appreciate it,” you conceded. Yeosang smiled now, going back behind the counter as you followed.

“You should really check it out, even if it’s just temporary. It’d do you good,” a customer walked in, interrupting your chat. You nodded, leaving him to his work, shooting him one last smile before walking out. His cheerful Have a good day followed you out of the shop and into the now busier street.

Yeosang was right, you knew that much, but you still hesitated as you left the flower shop. There was uncertainty in your steps as you dared to walk down the street, looking ahead to spot the restaurant. Maybe you could go later that day, you could start with something easy like the grocery shopping you needed to do, to ease your nerves. 

That was better, you decided, easing yourself into the day with your routine before upsetting it by facing something new. With newfound vigor, you resumed your walking, headed to your favorite greengrocer. A walk that lasted barely five steps, before you collided against another passerby. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t-” 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

As apologies spilled past your lips, your eyes finally caught sight of the person you so rudely slammed into. When you did, you stopped talking, just as your lungs stopped breathing for a long second.

His dark hair looked a little longer, and his smile was just as you remembered, if not a little softer. Breathtakingly dashing like the first time you saw him, even in his worst moments. Because the last time you saw him, things weren’t pretty. You threw around words you didn’t mean only to disappear from his life. Both of you were crying, eyes red and puffy, voice broken as you spoke. You thought you’d never see him again.

To your dismay, you realized right then and there that you weren’t ready to face him yet. You never prepared for the moment it would all come back, simply because you never thought it would. 

“Thought I’d never see you again,” Wooyoung huffed, his polite smile falling in seconds.

“Yeah, me too,” you croaked, still in shock. 

The moment stretched on for what felt like minutes, and was only probably seconds, as you desperately tried to come up with something to say, something that’d make sense. But your brain came up empty-handed, because what if he hated you? He should hate you. What if he just told you to fuck off and left? Just like you did years ago. 

“So, what are you up to?” 

And yet, here he was again, taking your life by storm. There was no way he was standing there, in front of you in the middle of a busy sidewalk, asking what was of your life. You blanked, producing a sort of confused and surprised noise. He had to be joking. You watched as a little amusement flashed in his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. 

“Would you like to catch up over coffee?” 

Your eyes must’ve been wide as saucers, not a single second of this was making sense to you. 

“U-uh… Sure,” you shrugged, despite yourself. 

Was this his way of showing you he was unbothered and had moved on? His long-awaited chance to brag about where he was in life? You didn’t know him as someone who would do that, but perhaps you deserved it. Maybe this was karma. 

Awkward. It was all so painfully awkward: walking in tense silence beside him to the coffee shop down the street, trying to make small talk about the weather, stumbling over your words when ordering coffee, waiting for him to join you at the table near the exit. Just in case. 

“You’re back home?” You finally asked as he sat down in front of you, desperate to find something, anything, to talk about and fill the silence that hung menacingly over your heads. After all, he wanted to catch up. Wooyoung nodded, slowly sipping his drink.

“Oh, you’ve been traveling then,” you mumbled, playing with your coffee cup, not daring to look up at him again.

“I was, yes.” It was hard to wrap your head around what was happening. In another life, this would all have been familiar. It could have been. Sharing a cup of coffee on a Thursday morning, talking about whatever, sharing cool recipes, and planning how or when to try them out. His presence wouldn’t make you want to simultaneously vomit and run and hide. Dug your own grave, huh? 

“Only big names I imagine,” you forced a smile. He shrugged with a huff, a little bashful perhaps. It was all you needed to know you’d guessed right.

“What about you? What brings you here?” Wooyoung asked, pulling you out of your reverie. Despite the small, polite smile on his lips, his eyes were unreadable. Though, deep down, you knew the answer he wanted to hear. That you traveled all around the world and did big things - still were - and worked for big names. Achieved your dreams at the expense of his. The lump in your throat made it hard to swallow, to speak. 

“Worked at Hwang’s for a while…” you managed to say through the bitterness. Wooyoung’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, jaw hanging open.

“Really? Wow, that’s… amazing! Doesn’t it have two Michelin stars?” Some of your guilt evaporated at the surprise and excitement in his voice, a lightness that was quickly crushed by your own disappointment. 

“How’s it there?” There it was, the million-dollar question. You scoffed, bitter, looking at him, watching his face fall a little. 

“I quit.” You shrugged. 

“You? Quitting? What happened to the Y/N I knew?” Wooyoung was surprised, that much you could tell, but there was something else brewing in his brown eyes. 

“Dead, gone and buried, apparently.” 

Your words were nothing but bleak, with a little bitterness still in them. Sure, you did what was best for you and you were proud, but you couldn’t help but feel like you had let him down. And wasn’t that absolutely, wildly foolish? 

“They offered me a job as head chef in their new restaurant, but I turned that down as well,” you rushed to explain, feeling like you had to, missing his furrowed brow. 

“That’s…” 

“Crazy?” You offered, cutting him off. Wooyoung scoffed. 

“Well, yeah, but there must’ve been a good reason,” he shrugged. “You don’t have to justify your choices to me, Y/N.” 

Your breathing faltered at his words and the fragility they held. Wooyoung had muttered them so softly, you could’ve lost them in the bustling atmosphere around you, and somehow both stabbed and healed your heart’s wounds. 

A moment passed before he cleared his throat, speaking again.

“So, you’re unemployed,” you almost couldn’t fathom how quickly he got back to bubbly and upbeat. You nodded, still stunned.

“Great, me too.” Wooyoung smiled while you blinked repeatedly. Was he… happy? 

“My friend told me about this one restaurant opening down the street-”

“They’re not opening,” he said, watching as your face fell. “Not yet at least.” 

You furrowed a brow, confused, about to ask what he meant when he cut you off again.

“I still need to find a co-owner.”

For a moment, you didn’t hear the car, just outside, honking at a group of teenagers crossing the street despite the redlight. You missed the way a barista made a glass fall and shatter eliciting surprised gasps around the shop. You only saw Wooyoung in front of you, his expression between smug and daring to hope, eyes shining with a little fear. All you heard were the words that left his mouth and what they implied, along with your heart ringing in your ears.

“What do you want to do? Why did you decline the head chef position?” You blanched, head spinning, brain scrambling to form coherent words. His eyes burned with a fire in them that screamed determination, one you were used to seeing as he challenged a dish he was afraid to ruin. A fire you used to love so much and that, you found, still made your breath hitch. 

“I-I just want to make good food and not run a kitchen of overworked, stressed, miserable and spiteful people,” you settled on, not daring to look away, not even when he leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his lips.

“How’d you like it to open a restaurant?” 

“Let’s open our own restaurant,” you laughed at his words, turning your head to catch his enthusiastic smile and bed hair all over the place. He was so beautiful, bathing in the morning light of your room, that your heart jumped and hurt and sang all at once. 

“What?! Is this post-nut clarity?” Wooyoung laughed, pulling you with him.

“Way to ruin the moment, love,” he quieted down. “I’m serious, though,” he was looking at you with amusement dancing in his eyes, and such adoration that sometimes it was hard to fathom it was directed at you.

“Mixing feelings with work is the recipe for disaster, Jung,” you found yourself saying, giggling when he pulled you into him, his hands leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was quiet for a while and you reveled in the warmth of the moment. Wooyoung often made you feel like anything was possible, like right now, huddled in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets despite the impending class you needed to leave for. 

“I think we’d make it,” he whispered, quite believing the words he was saying. “And if it all starts falling apart we can hire chefs to cook and be the owners. Live somewhere tropical, rebuild our relationship…” 

“That’s so sad, we wouldn’t be cooking at all!” you laughed, hiding in his chest and hearing a fake offended hey! from him. “You dream too big, Woo.”

“And you dream too small, my love.” He guided your face in front of his with gentle hands, bumping his nose with yours before kissing you until you were left breathless. When you pulled away, you finally saw the stars dancing in his eyes.

“I do have dreams,” you almost whispered, treading lightly on your own aspirations, opening up your heart for someone else to see. Someone who would understand and not call you crazy. Wooyoung nudged you, an expectant smile on his lips. “I want to travel all around the world and learn from the best of the best. Life’s a classroom, I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop.”

“Never?” he asked, not quite surprised, but more like impressed. He understood. You let out an elated giggle, almost cursing yourself for behaving like a schoolgirl. 

“Never.” unable to resist, you pecked his lips once. 

“That’s a wonderful dream, love.” 

One of his hands came up to rest on your cheek, cradling it gently, looking at you as if you were the most prized possession of his. All over, warmth wrapped you up, and rose to your cheeks that he was still grazing his thumb over, light as a feather.

“I want to open a restaurant someday, ” he whispered, so close to you, looking into your eyes and sending sparks flying in your chest. “But I think I might just follow you to the ends of the world.”

His lips crashed on yours once more, sending your heart racing more than his words had. This might’ve been the closest you’d ever felt to heaven, with Wooyoung wrapped around you, canceling any and everything else. You knew, right then and there, that the fall was going to hurt like nothing had ever before. 

Consommé was the most devilish dish you’d ever had the displeasure of cooking. And yet, its intricate cooking process demanded every last bit of your undivided attention. That was why you were sweating away in the kitchen, trying to achieve the perfect result through your rusty memory of the process, although you had no need for it. Well, except not thinking of your morning. You’d rather remember Chef Berrien’s voice as he dictated the recipe and the endless ways you could ruin it, than your encounter with Wooyoung. 

A shiver ran down your spine, tingling all the way, when his words, the ones from earlier and the ones from back then, echoed in your mind; clashing, fighting, and leaving behind scorched earth. 

You could hardly believe this was your life right now. Accepting would mean tying yourself down to this place, to Wooyoung. You let the thought simmer in your head, waiting for the familiar claustrophobia to bloom in your chest, suggesting you to run and never come back.  

It didn’t come. 

Instead, the thought of leaving pulled at your heartstrings. You liked it here. You liked your morning coffee shit-talking sessions with Yeosang, you liked meeting up with Seonghwa on his days off, you liked your greengrocers and the walk back through the park near home. You liked your apartment, you finally liked the disposition of your tools in your kitchen. You liked the thought of working with Wooyoung. 

You dropped the ladle, splashing your skin with the hot soup. You hissed in pain, clutching your hand to your chest before assessing the damage. You walked the short distance to the sink, running your hand under cold water.

Well, you thought, there goes the clarification process. 

-

You skipped breakfast with Yeosang that morning. For one, you were late despite the alarms, and, most importantly, you needed to talk yourself into actually meeting Wooyoung at the restaurant. The day before you’d left him with the promise of letting him know about the offer. You preferred not to think about how, for just a moment, you could see the determination falter in his eyes. Again. Wooyoung saved his number in your phone before letting you go. 

After taking care of your slightly burned hand, you stared at your phone for all of twenty minutes before finally crafting the perfect text saying you’d meet him at the restaurant at ten. 

And now, five minutes to ten, you were running down the street, dodging people left and right, trying to get to the closed-down restaurant. You couldn’t count the amount of sorry’s you’d thrown around when accidentally running into someone. Finally, the sign came into view, and so did Wooyoung. 

“You made it,” he sounded vaguely surprised and you tried not to let it get to you, or to let it show on your face. 

“So,” you cleared your voice after nodding. “How’d you find out about this?” He gestured for you to follow towards the entrance, producing the key from the back pocket of his black jeans. 

“I used to like this place,” he easily opened the door, leading you inside the empty restaurant. From the outside the restaurant didn’t look like much more than a hole in the wall, but the inside was spacious enough. A small restaurant, fitting maybe twenty tables at best, but you liked the idea. By the looks of it, it must had been recently renovated. Wooyoung switched the lights on, allowing you to see better. “When I got back the owner told me he was thinking of closing, and I asked if he wanted to sell. He made a pretty good offer.” 

“Huh,” you were still looking at the anonymous white walls and the few sleek black tables left behind, making your way to what you knew to be the kitchen. Stepping in, you gasped. It was perfect; an island kitchen slightly bigger than you’d imagined. Almost gleaming in its silver glory it stared back at you, inviting you in. You didn’t even mind the checkered floor as you walked across the space and took it in. Wooyoung stood by the door, leaning against its frame with his hands in his pockets, watching. It looked like he was holding his breath, and you knew why. 

“What do you think?” his voice was just a little bit hesitant. You turned around with a smile. 

“I love it,” you offered, noticing how he seemed to ease up the slightest bit. 

“Ah, I knew you’d fall for the island kitchen,” Wooyoung scoffed, walking into the space as well.

“Not my fault it’s the best type of kitchen,” you raised your hands, hearing him snort.

“Debatable,” he muttered, now standing in front of you. There was amusement dancing in his eyes, a spark you realized just then how much you’d missed. 

It hit you then, square in the chest, how much you really just missed him. He still seemed to know what you wanted even before you knew yourself. It happened then and it was happening now. Being in the kitchen with him felt electrifying, your hands itched to start cooking. You looked around once more, seeing yourself bustling around in this kitchen, Wooyoung at your side.

Never once did you regret the choices you’d made; your love for food had brought you all around the world, learning and cooking in the most beautiful kitchens, earning your praise felt like the biggest reward. Believing in yourself and your skill, your craft, and being able to perfect it was all you really needed. Maybe it was time to stop and breathe for a while, and put your experience to use. Because, no, you never regretted where your choices took you, except losing Wooyoung. Your compass, the one who never lost sight of your heart. 

“Let’s do it.”

Wooyoung looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, letting out a surprised sound.

“I saved quite a bit in the last few years and we could ask for a loan. Quite frankly, I’ve always wanted to run a kitchen on my own terms,” you could hear it in your voice, the ambition faintly coming back to it, something you hadn’t heard in a while. You smiled seeing Wooyoung straighten up. 

“We’d be running it together,” he lifted a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. You mirrored his stance.

“That’s good with me,” Wooyoung smirked. 

“Then let’s do it.”

-

Oftentimes you asked yourself how you ended up here. You believed it almost impossible that you were, once again, sitting in front of Jung Wooyoung at an ungodly hour of the night, eating food you’d made as the radio softly played in the background. What was even less credible to you was how you were sitting in your restaurant, yours, discussing menu plans. 

A month strong into the planning and designing, you were proud to say that you and Wooyoung were… friendly. Like coworkers were. Almost like long-lost friends would be. But it was fine because you got to stress Yeosang nearly every morning about how sometimes you both would slip into old habits and bicker like you used to and how that would confuse you. Then you’d talk Seonghwa’s ear off one night a week in front of your drinks, rambling on and on about how you’d catch yourself staring at him, blushing like an idiot, stumbling over your words. 

Safe to say that your friends were tired, but deep down it surprised and comforted them to see you come back to life bit by bit. 

It was all hard to wrap your head around because the last time you saw him still burned in the back of your mind. It was the giant elephant in the room you could never address, you could never pretend to not see. But Wooyoung was great at turning a blind eye, you realized. And you couldn’t really blame him either. You never expected to be in this sort of situation, you had quite literally run from it. 

But you were afraid of misstepping, of crossing a line.

So, now, there you stood, at a crossroads; talk about it and watch this newfound truce crash and burn, or pretend like everything was fine. For now, discussing the menu with your co-owner would have to do. 

“I think we should add that!” Wooyoung all but yelled, slamming his chopsticks down. 

“And I’m telling you that I know the area!” You rebutted, swallowing your bite, before carrying on with your point. “There’s at least three other restaurants that do that, what’s missing is a gourmet place.”

“Will you let it go?” He sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. “If we get there, we get there, if we don’t, then we’re still making fantastic food!” 

Wooyoung had a point, you knew he did. A valid one at that. 

“You’re insufferable,” you conceded, rolling your eyes and resuming your eating, trying to hide the smile pulling at your lips. 

“You love it,” he winked, picking up his chopsticks. 

And just like that, he threw you back into your loop. How could you simply let it go when this felt so familiar? When it reminded you so much of how you were? Light and carefree. Happy. You hadn’t noticed your eyes roaming around his figure, taking in his long dark hair pulled back by a ponytail, the way his eyes seemed to shine in the dull light coming from the stupid lamp he’d insisted on bringing in. 

This was his dream, wasn’t it? You remembered, because how could you forget the endless hours he’d spend talking about his own restaurant, managing his own kitchen, creating dishes, and cooking his favorites? You could tell by the small smile he sported as he ate, looking around the room with star-filled eyes. 

You didn’t know quite how you fit into this. You never amounted that one conversation, years ago in your Paris apartment, up to anything more than daydreaming. Though, right now, the moment felt tangible, you could grasp it in your hands if you wanted to. He'd given you a new dream to chase right when you thought you were over. 

“You’re looking at me weird,” Wooyoung waved his chopsticks in a circle around your face, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry,” your eyes fell back to the almost empty plate, moving the last bites of food around. 

“I didn’t say it was bothering me,” his voice was lower, almost a whisper, and you felt your heart drop. When you looked up, you didn’t know what to make of his expression. It looked like he was contemplating his following words, and you were all but hanging from his lips. He stayed quiet, eyes downcast on his plate, and shot you a short smile. 

You let the radio fill the silence between you, allowing the thoughts to pester your mind. Though, like a cup overflowing, there was little you could do to cage them and push them down.

“Wooyoung, were you-” his eyes rose to meet yours, and you stopped for a second, mulling the question over, savoring its bitter taste in your mouth before spitting it out as if it were a seed that ruined your bite. “Who were you going to open the restaurant with?”

His wide eyes told you all you needed to know, and yet his stunned silence pulled another set of words out of your lips.

“You said you needed a co-owner first…” you rasped, almost shocked you were still talking through the cotton in your mouth. Wooyoung set his chopsticks down, trying to hide the way his hands started trembling, sighing.

“We made a good team, didn’t we?” his voice was quieter, wondering. He shot you an uneasy smile, so short and so small you almost missed it. “I know you’re a great chef and we want this to be a great restaurant.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, feeling the weight of memories unloading on both your shoulders, their presence demanding the unwanted plunging into deep, murky waters. “Does it have, uhm… does it have anything to do with-”

“Let’s not open that can of worms, mh?” He cut you off immediately, sounding a tad harsher than he had before, rubbing salt into your matching wounds. 

“I just-” It felt like you were gasping for air, grasping at any lifeline you were afforded, lost in the swirling sea that were his pained eyes. 

“I know.” 

A mangled victory, or a loss, the way his voice sounded resolute. It allowed no space for you to counterattack, to try and pry any other thought out of him. And you accepted it, simple and plain, with no complaints. You had no right to. Nodding, you averted your eyes, affording him space. 

“I-” Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. The conflict in his mind was reflected on his face clear as day. Before his eyes were back on you, they looked around the room. “I missed you.”

Bearing his heart, that was what he was doing. It felt like, despite everything, he was still offering you a small piece of it. Your breath caught in your throat. Three words that held huge implications and a heavy past. One right answer, a truthful one, that could sound highly hypocritical of you. But you had to say it.

“I missed you, too.”

Wooyoung smiled, small and tentative, but still as warm as sunshine. You smiled back. 

The night was as cold as you felt despite having his arms wrapped around you, offering you shelter from the biting wind. Tonight the twinkling lights of the city below you couldn’t offer their usual comfort. You knew what was going to happen as soon as you opened your mouth to speak; you’d be breaking his heart along with yours. But you had to, hadn’t you? Wooyoung would understand. 

“Don’t you want to stay here forever?” He mumbled in your ear, his warm breath making you shiver. You kept staring out at the Parisian lights, heart sinking with every beat. 

“I-” you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing there was a way to prevent the hurt you were about to put him through. Never mind about yourself, all you cared about was him. Always him. Then why are you doing this? Sounded something in the recess of your mind. You shushed it. The lump in your throat formed out of the blue, making it hard to utter the next words.

“I wish I could,” you whispered, hoping your words would get lost in the wind, bracing for impact when you felt him tense and pull away from you. A gust blew by, chilling you to the bone now that he wasn’t holding you anymore. The look in his eyes sparked burning regret in your heart, setting it aflame.

“What do you mean?” 

He had taken a step back, confused eyes searching for yours. You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when you were about to break all the promises you’d made right along with his heart. What a coward.

“I was offered a job in New York,” you began, hearing his sharp intake of breath. “I took it… I leave next week.”

When you finally mustered enough courage to look back at him, you saw betrayal shining clear in his eyes, swirling in disbelief, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. It was almost as if you could hear his thoughts, and each of them cut a deeper wound. 

How could you? Why didn’t you tell me? I would've been happy for you. We could’ve made other plans. 

“Were you just going to disappear from my life forever, then?” He spat, a little angry, a little sad. 

“No, Wooyoung, I-” you tried to reason, knowing very well that no excuse would hold. He scoffed bitterly, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jacket like a hurt kid. Already hard to talk through the burning in your throat, the tears springing in your eyes didn’t make the task any easier.

“Save it,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “I should’ve known. I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for there,” he made to go, but you couldn’t let him, not yet. 

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” He stopped dead in his tracks; you’d said the wrong thing. But you couldn’t hide your hand now that you’d thrown the stone. “Is it not our dream to learn and travel when all of this is done?”

Wooyoung shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, and to some extent, you couldn’t either. 

“No, I wouldn’t have, Y/N. It may be your dream but it isn’t mine. Not anymore, not since I met you. So, yeah, I would’ve given it all up,” he all but yelled, each word was like a punch in the gut. Despite the noise of the city below, the beat of silence that lingered sounded louder than any of it. 

“Go to New York, love. It’s your dream after all,” he conceded, voice dying down and broken, softer, like some sort of realization had dawned upon him. He blinked away his tears, still, you refused to let yours fall. 

In a second he was close to you again, his smell and warmth engulfing you once more. A sob broke through you when you felt his arms wrapping around you tight, and another was pulled from you when one of his hands came to softly rake through your hair. Wooyoung surrounded you with all he was, holding you tight, almost as if he loved you. Almost, you thought, because you knew the difference, for you had felt what it was to be loved – truly loved – by him. But you went and broke it. Now, you had to put love out of the question, and think only of duty. You had made your choice, after all, and he knew it too. 

“Goodbye,” in an instant you were left on your own, cold, and watched as he walked away from you, his whisper resonating in your soul, breaking it with each echo.

If you chose to follow your dream, then why did it hurt so much?

-

Sundays used to be your day off. You’d wake up at midday, usually to a ray of sunlight harshly shining into your face until you could no longer bear its warmth. You’d roll out of bed and lazily proceed to tidy your apartment and rot on the couch for the remainder of the day. Now, though, you were a restaurant owner and Wooyoung insisted you should stay open on Sundays because two out of three of the restaurants in your area were closed. So, you rolled out of bed, taking just one second to admire the first rays of sunlight shining through the fading, dark night sky. You sped through your routine and breakfast, having sacrificed that slot of time in favor of five more minutes of sleep. 

Despite the fast-approaching summer, the morning air was still rather chilly, and much quieter than the rumbling of cars and city rustle that you were used to. You didn’t have to squeeze past sleepy teenagers and angry old ladies on the bus and got to choose which seat to sit in. You didn’t mind early Sundays. 

In no time you’d open the restaurant. Today you’d convinced Seonghwa and Yeosang to drop by for lunch; you needed them to test out the menu you and Wooyoung had carefully crafted. Of course, at the mention of free food, both of them agreed, so there wasn’t much convincing involved after all. A sort of test run before the grand opening. 

The restaurant stood before you in the quiet street, looking close to the eye. You smiled proudly, producing the key from your bag, opening the door, and closing it behind you after walking in. The room was quiet, the only indication of someone being in there was the rustle and faint light coming from the kitchen. 

“Hey, Woo,” he was already there, setting out pans and pots. You walked in, reaching for your jacket. 

“Hi!” Although his head was hidden in a cupboard, you could hear his cheery voice loud and clear. “Are you ready?” 

When he emerged, he was sporting a happy smile, contagious enough to make you chuckle.

“As I’ll ever be.” 

Wooyoung smiled at you, beckoning you over to the station where a copy of the menu lay. You sure had your work cut out for the day. Up until then, between the furnishing and taking care of the more bureaucratic aspect of opening a restaurant, cooking together hadn't been common. You were thrilled to finally share the kitchen with him again. 

“Hey! The rolling pin is there to keep you off my half of the counter,” you huffed, trying your best not to let your irritation show. Not while you were trying to close dumplings perfectly. 

“Oh, come on!” He protested, “I can’t believe you’d still do that, look at how much space we have!”

“Yeah, and somehow, you’re still taking up most of it,” Wooyoung grumbled under his breath, finally moving a few of his bowls and pans to make space for you. 

“Gee, thanks,” although you weren’t trying to rile him up, you still ended up falling back into old habits.

“Oh my-” he rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, moving a couple more things, “You’re the bane of my existence.”

“You literally asked me to be your co-worker!” You laughed, shocked, but amused.

“And there’s not a day I don’t regret it,” with his nose in the air, trying and failing to hide a smile, Wooyoung resumed his meat slicing. You scoffed, not really offended. It was so easy to breathe when things felt as light as they did. A smile threatened to open up on your face, but you had an act to keep up. 

Silence used to be rare between the two of you, yet you liked it now. There was no awkward space to fill anymore, not a single word to be wasted. You worked in tandem, like a well-oiled machine, chuckling at Wooyoung’s occasional jokes and exchanging instructions. It felt good. It felt like it used to. 

“Are you nervous?” You asked him as you finalized the prepping for the second course. Wooyoung looked up, flashing that smile of his that could rival the sun.

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Are you?”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes and focusing on the bowl under your nose. The sauce you prepared to marinate the fish had a pungent note it shouldn’t have had. You didn’t notice him slipping closer to you, right at your side. Wooyoung was leaning on the counter, facing you. 

“You’ve got nothing to be worried about,” his voice aimed to soothe, and it did, sweet like honey. “Are you or are you not one of the best chefs in town?” 

You looked up at him, scoffing, ignoring the heat on your face that his closeness brought along. 

“See, now you’re exaggerating!”

“I’m not.” 

“Are, too!” A soft laugh escaped the two of you, and when he looked at you, eyes so full of hope and happiness, your breathing stopped for just a second. “But you’re right, it’s gonna be okay, I’m just… I don’t know, I want them to like what we made.”

“They’re gonna,” he shrugged. Only when you gave him a questioning look he answered. “Because we made it.” 

It looked like Wooyoung still knew what to say and when to say it to put your nerves at ease.

-

“Can I have some more?” 

“Me too!”

“You can’t ask that!”

“Says who?” 

“Alright, we’ll make it,” Wooyoung quelled the discussion that was about to start quickly, coming back into the kitchen with empty plates.

Two of his friends had joined yours for lunch, not that the food was lacking, but it seemed that Yeosang and San had promptly bonded over their love for one particular dish. Gamjatang, which wasn’t even on the menu, the two were just bottomless pits, apparently. The only one coming to your aid with restaurant etiquette was Seonghwa, whose reprimanding went unheard. Hongjoong stuck to silent side-eyeing, which barely helped. 

“Should we consider adding it to the menu?” Wooyoung joked, coming over to the stove where you stood, already heating up what was left of the broth from the previous batch. You thanked your lucky star you had some ready, or else they’d had to wait hours to eat.

“Let’s make it available only after eleven, though.”

He laughed, reminding you how you closed at midnight while washing and cutting up the mung bean sprouts, crown daisy leaves, perilla leaves, and green chilies you needed to add later on. You went for the pork bones, potatoes, and cabbage leaves.

Wooyoung set his bowl of vegetables close to the stove, ready for you whenever.

“Do you need more seasoning base?” He asked as you put your portion of ingredients into the pot. 

“Yeah, there’s not much left,” you looked at him, waiting for your word to start. “Thanks.” 

He smiled, getting to work quick.

As everything simmered and cooked, the two of you stood in front of the stove, silent, side to side. Outside, you heard your friends all talk and laugh, but they sounded miles away. Once again, you thought you knew what was running through his head. The night when he taught you how to cook the dish, the way he followed your every step with an encouraging smile. How your heart fluttered when he kissed your lips right after his first bite, saying that there was no way he was ever going to cook it again if yours tasted much better. How one night you tipsily tried to cook it together, almost spilling the batch of broth you saved in the fridge and ruining it all, but could only laugh until your stomachs hurt because somehow it was the funniest thing ever. After all, they plagued your thoughts as well. 

When the timer went off and he looked at you like a deer caught in headlights, you smiled, trying to ease away the tension that had bubbled up, going to kill the flame and plate the dish. 

You passed him a full bowl with shaking hands, praying he didn’t hear the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

“Maybe you should take away the wine,” Seonghwa sported a light frown on his lips when you made your way to the table with the other bowl in your hands. You furrowed a brow, noticing the way San and Yeosang were giggling a little too loudly, and how the former was particularly flushed, only after setting the dish in front of him. 

“Good idea,” Wooyoung snickered, scurrying back into the kitchen with the bottle. You watched him go, debating if to follow or give him space. You decided to stay, asking your guests how they liked the food. 

Seonghwa ended up giving you precious input and feedback, over the laughter coming from the opposite end of the table. It made you smile. Despite how interested you were in your friend’s recap of the things he appreciated the most about appetizers, you couldn’t help but glance a little worriedly at the kitchen doors from time to time. Wooyoung was still in there.

“Alright, we should go,” Hongjoong, who had simply complimented your cooking with a polite smile, spoke up after a while. San protested a little but stopped his efforts to stay pretty quickly when his friend said he was going to have no ride home. 

The two made their way to say their goodbyes to Wooyoung in the kitchen, leaving you with your friends. 

“We should go, too,” Yeosang stood, walking over to the doors with you and Seonghwa. 

“Thank you guys for coming,” you quickly hugged them both. “Drop by whenever.”

“You know I will,” Yeosang giggled, making you smile. 

“Keep it up!” Seonghwa said, walking out first. You waved them both off, and when you turned around, you were faced with San and Hongjoong. The former complimented your food, saying he’d bring over friends and family, rambling a bit. You giggled as he spoke, thanking him. 

“Thank you for having us, the food was delicious,” Hongjoong watched over San making his way out of the restaurant after saying his goodbyes, turning to you with a small smile. “Can I ask one thing of you?”

Your brow furrowed, but you nodded quickly. He sighed.

“I know you two have a complicated past,” he started, sending a jolt of anxiety through you. “And I see you’re doing great despite it, so, please, just… don’t hurt him again.” 

“I would never,” you were furiously nodding, suddenly your throat felt a little dry, hands all clammy. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong smiled, walking out as well, leaving you dumbfounded and staring at their disappearing figures. 

You waited in silence for a while, mulling his words over in your head. When you turned around and saw Wooyoung leaning against the kitchen door’s frame with a bright, wide smile adorning his lips, the sight almost gave you a heart attack. He laughed loudly seeing your spooked reaction, making a smile appear on your face. His laughter only served to make your heart stutter like butterfly wings, having barely recovered from the surprise, making you giggle as well. 

Wooyoung looked so happy that you felt you could burst at the seams. 

“They liked it!” You could barely contain your excitement as you locked up and started to make your way over to him, almost with a skip in your step.

“They did,” he smiled back, eyes scanning your figure until you were right up in front of him. Not even thinking twice, you let your arms sneak around his shoulders, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. You even swayed side to side. Wooyoung laughed happily, his own arms around your waist to pull you closer.

“I’m so happy,” you murmured when your excitement quelled. Your chin was resting atop his shoulder, and his on yours. When he spoke, quietly, you could hear the smile on his lips right against your ear.

“I’m glad,” he said. “Me too.” 

It was quiet. For the first time since that morning there were no friends laughing at the table, no bickering in the kitchen along with the sizzling of the pans, chopping on the cutting board, and rumbling of the pots. 

Just you and him. 

Your heart was still racing, over the moon for the success of your menu, but also quickened by his close proximity. Once realization struck that you’d pulled him into you, you were quick to let go, though his arms around your waist wouldn’t let you wander far.

“Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” the look in his eyes was enough to send your heart to your feet, air stuck in your lungs, and take you back in time, just for a second. It was all it took for you to want to pull away from him as if you’d gotten shocked. You found that you couldn’t. Not when Wooyoung held you a little tighter, searching for anything in your eyes that would prompt him to stop leaning even a breath closer. 

Frozen in time, in your spot, your grip on his kitchen jacket grew impossibly strong. 

When his nose softly brushed against yours, as if he’d sensed your mind wandering far and wide and wanted to bring you back to him, and you saw how his half-lidded eyes were holding a simple question, you pulled back.

“Should we get to cleaning up?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes closed, for a fleeting second, before he started nodding.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be here all night,” he cleared his voice, arms falling from around you. He offered a smile so small that it barely showed, the moment gone as soon as it came. You watched as he disappeared behind the kitchen doors, shoulders dropping and eyes falling close. 

You gave yourself a moment, just one, to relish in his closeness. The closest he’d ever been to you in years, something that used to be so familiar and still sparked the same goosebumps, the same erratic heartbeat. You sighed, following after him. 

-

You couldn’t sleep. You hadn’t for a good week. 

Between the imminent opening of the restaurant and the newfound awkwardness between you and Wooyoung, your head was so full of swirling thoughts that, as soon as you closed your eyes, it prevented you from enjoying one singular night of rest. They just kept going, growing into a never-ending spiral of what-ifs and exploding into a hurricane of beating yourself up. 

By now you’d given up on trying to make sense of your feelings. All you knew was that you wanted to keep Wooyoung to your side, co-worker, friend, or lover, it didn't matter. Now that he was back into your life, you didn’t want to risk losing him again. Though, it got increasingly hard to ignore how you wished he would stay with you once you closed the restaurant. How you wanted him to hold you like he used to, how you wanted to tell him every day just much of your love and devotion he had. 

It was still dark outside when you closed the door to your apartment behind you. Almost without thinking, you’d thrown the covers off of yourself and gotten out of bed, put on the first clean clothes you found, and got out of the house. The cold, crisp air of the night hit you right in the face, waking you up like an icy splash of water would have. You pulled your jacket closer around your body, starting the walk to the restaurant. The keys jiggled in your hand, one of the few sounds in the lonesome streets. 

Your heart had decided the way for you before your mind could catch up.

You’d always found solace in cooking. It allowed your mind to relax, and think about what was right in front of your nose, slicing through all your doubts and worries like a knife. With each step you followed, each accomplished passage towards the perfect result, you felt lighter and lighter. Then Wooyoung came along. Never could you have predicted that something else in your life would’ve been able to bring you the same comfort and brightness as cooking. 

Whatever peace and happiness you’d found in your passion, you’d also found in him. He set you alight. You’d been dumb and wrong enough to think that the feeling that came along with him could be replaced. 

But how could it? Once you let go if it, of him, Wooyoung had haunted all of your what-ifs. All of your darkest nights could only brighten up if you thought of his infectious laugh, his soft kisses, and his kind words. 

Reaching the restaurant brought you back out of your thoughts. You were here now, by some fateful design, with him again. You’d do anything not to lose your brightest star again. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You closed the backdoor behind you with a jolt, not expecting Wooyoung to be sitting at a table, illuminated only by the light coming from his beloved lamp. 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Ever so slowly, you made your way to him, trying to calm your racing heart. He raised his shoulders, avoiding your eyes a second later, shrugging as if he had no answer to your question. You sat with him, noticing just then the few papers scattered on the wood. 

“What’s on your mind?” The question fell from your lips in a quiet whisper, almost afraid to disturb the silence hanging in the air. You still knew him, after all, maybe even more than you gave yourself credit for. He sported that furrow in his brow, the one that lightly creased his smooth skin, that only showed up when something had been bothering him. 

“I-” he sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they didn’t waste a single second to find yours. Your mouth went dry. 

“You know what I hate most? That sometimes I hate you, sometimes I hate myself, but always I miss you. And I never stopped torturing myself with the same questions over and over, why would you go? Did our dreams mean nothing to you? Did I mean nothing to you?” A bitter, void laugh fell from his lips. “But you’ve gotta move on, right?”

Oh.

Oh.

Heart in your throat, you were left speechless in front of his innermost thoughts. Thoughts you never imagined could be plaguing his mind still. But how could you miss it now? His eyes were begging for answers, after all this time, as if the dam had finally broken. You couldn’t bear to see them be so pleading, so misty. 

“That’s not true, I,” the words died in your mouth as you choked on them. “You must know it,” reduced to a whisper by the weight of truth, you tried to salvage what you’d so carefully rebuilt.

“Do I?” He sounded so helpless, your brain scrambled in all directions to find a way to convey how so untrue it all was. “You left me, Y/N, and sometimes I'm still there.” 

A gasp left your lips, his words squeezing the air out of your lungs. 

“We’re doing it now, isn’t it enough?”

Wooyoung shook his head, shoulders dropping in disbelief as he scoffed. Despite the dim light, from across the table, you could see his red-rimmed eyes begging you to catch on. You did, you had the second he started speaking, but you’d still said the wrong thing. 

“You’re so dense,” head thrown back, hands on his face, you waited for him to speak again. “Tell me why did you go.”

Not a question. Up against the wall, you felt the way your heart fell to your stomach, how nerves were tugging at it painfully. He needed this, and you were willing to give answers.

“I didn’t think,” you started, feeling so small under his gaze. “The only thing on my mind was that I’d made it. Selfishly, I thought you’d understand. I… I never meant to hurt you, and I know it sounds like bullshit, but it’s true. And when you told me to go, for a split second, I thought we could make it. I realize now how stupid I was. How there were at least ten ways in which I could’ve handled it better. I wish I’d fought for us,”

“I’m sorry. I really am, I-” Unshed tears started to run down your cheeks, wetting your mouth with salt. “There’s nothing I regret more than letting you go.” 

“We were meant to be, love,” his broken whisper was a sinking stone in your chest. Lifting your eyes to meet his, you saw the tear tracks on his desperate face matching yours. 

“But we were not meant to last,” there were few ways you could describe how your heart was hurting as you muttered the words, hand reaching forwards on the table. You didn’t think Wooyoung would hold on to it until he did. Fingers intertwined, you both held on painfully tight as if by letting go you’d get lost in the current the sea of your words had provoked. Each other’s buoy in a storm of unsaid words and unresolved, muddy feelings, so strong that with nothing they could tear you apart. 

You cried immersed in the dark silence of the restaurant hall, the place that crowned your dreams, listening to the other’s quiet sobs. 

“I’m sorry, forgive me,” you choked out again, trying to find his face past your tears. Wooyoung reached out to brush them away, his hands just as soft as you remembered, if not more careful. The moment his skin grazed yours, a shiver ran down your spine, electrified by such simple contact. His hand lingered for a long second, cradling your cheek before all you felt was its cold absence.

He stood up first, only to walk around the table and stamp a kiss on the crown of your head, his hand holding your shoulder. You froze, barely hearing how he murmured something about seeing you in the morning, barely breathing. What you did hear was the closing door, a sign you’d been left alone with your thoughts in the dimly lit room, knowing your ignorance had broken his heart again.

-

You didn’t know how to fix it. 

Standing and cooking side by side felt off again. You were walking on eggshells, treading on a fine line to avoid ticking off another bomb. If the weight of apologizing had been lifted off your chest, something much heavier now resided upon it. Knowing something had changed yet again, all because of how you’d acted. What you’d said. 

“You want to make ramen noodles? From scratch?” 

In the middle of cleaning up part of the station, you couldn’t help but let surprise seep into your voice. Wooyoung stared, nodding. 

“I thought we already made enough to last us at least two days…” You let your words fade out, not wanting to start an argument. His jaw set and you realized your efforts had been in vain.

“I’d rather be safe than sorry, at least until our new hires come in,” he shrugged, going to preheat the oven. He really was serious. 

You wondered why he was going through with this; you ran out of kansui, which was already hard enough to find, let alone expensive. In its absence, you’d need to prepare a substitute for it: baking soda that had to be baked in the oven for at least an hour to act properly instead of the kansui. It was such a waste of time when you had more pressing matters to attend to. Ones that didn’t need the help of your brigade. 

Breathing in deeply and deciding that keeping peace was essential, you assessed how Wooyoung was just lining the baking sheet with parchment paper and spreading the baking soda over it. You went to retrieve the whole wheat and bread flours you’d need in an hour, trying to keep frustration at bay. You’d think about the salt and riboflavin later. When you came back with the sacks, Wooyoung was already cleaning the rolling pins and pasta machine. With a grunt, you set them down on the counter, watching as he jolted in surprise.

“I’ll go call our supplier while we wait on the oven,” you really didn’t mean for your voice to sound so clipped. He seemed not to care, simply giving you a nod and going on with his task.

You left the kitchen almost stomping your feet in frustration, sitting down at the table furthermost from it. Whatever game Wooyoung was playing, it needed to stop now. You had tried time and time again, in the last few days, to get anything out of him. To try and patch things up and salvage them as best as you could. But you guessed he needed time, and with the opening just around the corner, you decided it was best to let him be. As long as you could work well together, everything would be fine.

Except the wall he’d put up was so high that you felt it was impossible to climb it or break through. 

The sound of the door opening brought you back to reality, reminding you that you needed to find the supplier’s contact and call, murmuring something about being closed to whoever had just come in. 

“I figured,” the voice made every hair on your skin stand, plunging you back into prickly, cold, anxious times. As you looked up, you could barely believe your eyes.

“Mr. Hwang,” his name left your lips in an incredulous whisper. 

“It’s been a while,” he looked around, coming in. His eyes were inspecting thoroughly everything they could lay themselves on, scrutinizing all that might be out of place, or all that wasn’t, and had the ability to spark envy in an enviable man. “Nice place.”

“How may I help you?” 

“I have an offer to make you.”

Wooyoung nearly stumbled on his feet. When he’d walked out of the kitchen to see if anything had come of your call with the supplier, the last thing he’d expected was seeing you sat at a table with your old boss, having a chat, exchanging laughter. He’d quickly retreated, leaving you to it, seeing red. He didn’t need to know what was going on, nor did he want to. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself as he stared, unable to do anything else, at the timer of the oven ticking by. Every second you sat out there, was a second he needed to reason with himself and find out what the menacing grip that held his heart was. All Wooyoung knew was that he wished you’d walk through the kitchen doors, a bright smile on your face, ready to get back to work. 

And when you did, he couldn’t quite figure out the look on your face. He was dying to ask what Hwang wanted, no matter what it was, he needed whatever words you’d utter to soothe his burning curiosity. But you never spoke, keeping up your diligent work even past the timer dinging, through the kneading of the dough, its thirty-minute rest, and the several compressions through the pasta machine. He observed you carefully, like he always had, as you used a long knife to cut the noodles by hand as he was occupying the noodle cutter of the machine. Were you slipping through his fingertips again? His eyes on you had always felt like an encouraging, gentle caress. Always looking after and out for you. Wooyoung never noticed or wasn’t fully aware, that sometimes they still did. More often than not you felt the need to step away, or look away, under his gaze, caving in under his affection. 

You felt that you didn’t deserve to be looked at so tenderly, not anymore. 

He searched for words to say as the several pieces of dough were turned into noodles, but nothing came to mind. Nothing sounded right, not even in his head. Wooyoung let silence win this battle, preferring to let the whirring of the machine and the slicing of your knife talk, trying to work out all the tangled threads that were his thoughts. It was easy to mess up the noodles and have them stick together in an unsalvageable way; then you’d have to make them into dough again and put it through the machine, compressing it until it was ready to be cut up. He tried to treat his thoughts with the same care as noodles to avoid starting over. But Wooyoung wasn’t having the same luck. 

Your muttering from the other side of the kitchen prompted him to look your way, struggling to find some space in the refrigerator for your sheet-pans. He hid his smirk, tossing the last of his noodles with cornstarch.

“Why?” You turned around, hands on your hips, irritation barely at bay. Wooyoung raised a brow, doing his very best at pushing your buttons.

“Why did we make so many fucking noodles when we are stocked full?” 

“Because we need them,” he shrugged. “They’re tedious to make from scratch, it’ll make our lives easier.”

“Then you make space for them,” you huffed, hastily walking over to the dishwasher to start filling it with the utensils you’d just finished using. 

“What did Hwang want?” 

Wooyoung bit his tongue, watching how your back straightened at his question. He’d tried to sound casual, but the question turned out to be anything but. He couldn’t keep it in anymore, the longer he did, the more his nerves tested his peace of mind. Wooyoung watched as you froze, halting your movements, before turning to face him again. The furrow of your brow as you raked your eyes over him accelerated his heartbeat in mysterious ways, waiting with bated breath for your answer.

“Nothing important,” but it was to him. Wooyoung’s thoughts had taken him places he didn’t want to revisit. His heart had been swallowed with an all-consuming and unkindly familiar pain at the idea of you leaving him behind. Hwang had offered you a lot in the past, afforded you to realize your dreams, he knew that much. What could he give you, then?

“Then why did you take so long talking to him?” One way or the other, Wooyoung had to exorcize the sinking feeling in his chest along with the overpowering green monster resurfacing with all its might. The only way afforded to him now was to venomously spit his words to you.

“I’m not trying to put us in a hard place with our number one competitor,” you closed the loaded dishwasher behind you, coming closer to him, clouding his senses. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes and you lifted a brow, crossing your arms. 

“Fine, be that way,” you carelessly threw the towel that was resting on your shoulder upon the counter. “He came back to try and persuade me to work for him again.” 

And there they were, the words Wooyoung had feared the most. Someone who would whisk you away from him again as he watched helplessly, feeding into his fears. 

“I said no, Woo…” your voice put a halt to every thought drowning him, your eyes full of the same softness your voice was. Giving up the fight, extinguishing the fire of his worries, at the cost of your disappointment. You swallowed the bitter bite. “Did you really think I’d go back, that I’d leave this? That I’d leave you?”

His silence was answer enough. You nodded, pressing your lips together.

“Well, I wouldn’t.” 

You weren’t going to let him think like that, not now. 

“I wasn’t happy there, and there’s not a single thing he could offer that would make me as happy as you do.”

Wooyoung watched, stunned into silence, while you got rid of your jacket and murmured something about still having to call the supplier. The timid smile you gave him, eyes full of warm hope, moved something inside him that had been slowly waking up ever since you bumped into him down the street months ago. 

-

For so long, he’d tried to move on. In the end, it turned out that you wanted different things from him, and he had to accept that. Wooyoung couldn’t convince you to stay if you wanted to leave. So, with his heart aching and bursting at the seams with the hope that eventually you’d be back, he let you go. There was no way he could describe how he felt when he saw you again. Surprise struck him, leaving him disoriented for a long moment before his mouth spoke for him. As if his body had reacted to the presence of yours, remembering what it felt like to have you close. 

No, Wooyoung wasn’t surprised that he so readily welcomed you back into his life. You were trying, that much he could see, but he was, too. There was a battle going on inside his head that left him frustrated and confused when it came to you, to his feelings for you. His thoughts laid their armor down only in your presence. His heart knew you were the only one he’d ever truly loved. A love that bloomed at the wrong time, a fragile flower that didn’t survive the winter. Wilted and withered, you’d left him to mend the gashes. 

He did, only if it meant learning how to be without you, burning with the hope that one day, if the time was right, together you could grow flowers anew.

The chance was right there for him to take, and yet. It had taken him just a couple of hours after closing the kitchen to decide he needed to see you, and set things straight once and for all. 

“What are you doing here?” 

The sun was just about to set, gilded light flowing into your apartment from the window, bathing you in its gold. Wooyoung’s breath caught. For a fleeting instant, nothing else existed besides your confused pout and his erratic heartbeat. 

“Can we talk?” 

You nodded, opening the door wider to let him in, gesturing for him to follow to the kitchen. The sweet aroma hit him first, enveloping him, and he saw the cutting board in the sink after. It didn’t take him long to figure out you were making blackberry jam. 

“You’re stressed,” the words left his lips before he could realize he’d spoken them, your head jerking in his direction as you kept stirring the pot, only to nod right after. 

“Well, yeah, the opening’s just around the corner now and we-” your eyes fell back on the stove, briefly avoiding his. “What did you want to talk about?”

Wooyoung hesitated. He didn’t know. Rather, he was sure he needed to make things right. Clean the suffocating air of uncertainty when it came to you and what you were to him. What he was to you. You two were always good at dancing in the dark but now, in the light of day, it was hard to fall back into rhythm.  

“I’m sorry about the noodles,” he bit his tongue. Way to start. 

How could he say what he wanted to when his head was on fire? Still, you were there, waiting, occasionally stirring your jam, making his heart skip. Wooyoung sighed.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving.” 

Your hand halted its gentle movements, he saw your knuckles turning white. 

“Wooyoung-”

“No, let me say this,” he was pretty sure his lungs almost failed him when you turned to look at him, wide eyed, hanging onto his words. “I don’t really know how to act around you. At first, I wanted to be mad. Just a little bit, but found out quickly that after the anger was gone, there wasn’t much left. Just the part of me that wondered if you’d ever come back, if you missed me like I missed you. And if I push all the confusion back, it’s as easy as breathing. I never expected to want you with me as much as I do.” 

You turned off the flame, walking closer. 

“I never meant you any harm,” you were picking at your fingers, almost subconsciously, just like Wooyoung’s hand reached out to twine with yours, halting your nervous motions. “I‘m sorry that I let you down, and that I hurt you.”

“I know,” he squeezed your hand with a small sigh, eyes cast on them. “We weren’t meant to last.”

The words bitterly echo in the quiet kitchen, almost lost in the burbling coming from the stove. Wooyoung was tempted to let go of your hand and walk out the door, fragile like a house of cards, as if it cost him his whole heart to tell you the truth. To expose his confusion in fear it may be an imposition.  

“No, Woo, not when I was so confused and only put my dreams first. Not when we had so much that we would’ve held each other from,” your watery smile hit him square in the chest, your words feeding his worries. “But I think we were always meant to be. I still… I’ve always held so much love for you.” 

Wooyoung stopped breathing, letting the sweet taste of your words wash over him.

“Can we start over?” you asked, tentative, searching his face for any sign that you may have crossed a line. “I want to be by your side, at your pace, we’ll be whatever you want us to be. I wasn't ready then but I am now, and I know it'll take time but I want you to know that I'll be there. No matter how long, I'll always be there.”

The unruled hope, that he’d been fighting to keep at bay, finally broke free and sparked a fire in his chest that swallowed up his heart, holding it in a fierce grip, burning. Your hopeful, misty eyes told him more than words could, more than he could ever dare to imagine. He had longed to see them from this close again. 

“Didn’t you say that mixing feelings with work is the recipe for disaster?” 

Behind the carelessly amused shrug of your shoulders, your untamed smile shined with bright happiness. The hand that wasn’t holding his tentatively rose to cup his cheek and Wooyoung wasted no time in leaning in and basking in its warmth.

“I think we’d make it.” 

Your promise was enough for him. Wooyoung rested his forehead against yours, finding home in your sweet perfume once again. You were finally back into his arms, to hold and to love. Once your lips met his hesitantly, almost afraid at first but feverishly at last, the sweet and pleasantly tart taste of your kiss assured his head and heart that everything would be alright.

[taurusdaylight]

[2.03pm] kindness

kindness came in the form of jeno lee. almost always having a smile etched on his adorable face, it was baffling to the people around jeno how he kept up with such a bright disposition all the time. it was as though he had little to zero anger coursing through his veins. 

to some extent, it’s true that jeno rarely got angry. despite being a chronic overthinker, jeno’s not the type of person to let his emotions control him. instead, he’d mull over it for a bit. think about why he got upset over something, and if it was truly worth getting upset over. he would at most sulk a little, as evident by his pouty lips that would make an appearance every so often. 

case in point: jeno currently getting lectured by yours truly in the corner booth of a quiet café. looking down on the ground, jeno absentmindedly stirred the straw in his cup while you talked.

you huffed, “you should stop being so nice to others.” 

“i didn’t know how to reject him…” jeno replied softly, still not looking at you. “besides, it will contribute to our overall grade? it won’t take up much of my time anyway,” he quickly added, in hopes of making the situation better.

the both of you weren’t even talking about something extremely serious. you were simply nagging jeno for agreeing to help his groupmate finish his part of the project because he was apparently busy with other submissions. the first thought that came to your mind was, what about jeno? surely he had other things to do too. 

the thing is, jeno was a kind person inside out. it wasn’t only about looking kind. deep down, jeno was tender-hearted and the biggest sweetheart to ever exist. as much as you believed in being kind, you were also aware of your boyfriend’s inability to say no to others whenever they approached him for help. no matter how he dismissed it as something trivial, you still didn’t like how he would go out of his way to do something that was not even supposed to be his responsibility to begin with. most important of all, you disliked how others took advantage of his kindness that came second nature to him, which rendered him to be at their disposal even if it wasn’t exactly convenient for him at times. 

“we talked about this, jen.” you made a face at him, expressing your concern over this issue that repeatedly came up time and again. “i hate that other people are using you and you just let them.”

while jeno understood where your frustration was coming from, a part of him also felt wronged because he was simply trying to do something nice for others. why is it that he somehow managed to make you upset too? jeno felt like he couldn’t do anything right. 

jeno finally stopped playing with his straw and looked you in the eye. “i’m sorry, okay? i won’t do it again, just please don’t be upset with me,” he said in a desperate plea. 

“i’m not upset with you, so there’s no need to say sorry to me,” you assured him. one thing you learnt about jeno over the years was how his negative thoughts got to him more than he’d liked to admit. how he would willingly take the blame for something if it meant that it would keep the peace. thankfully, he simply needed a few words of affirmation for him to get out of his head. 

you grabbed jeno’s hand and gently squeezed it. “i just want you to know that it’s okay to put yourself first. you don’t always have to think about others when you’ve got so much at hand. sometimes… just sometimes… it’s okay to be selfish too!” 

your lips curled upwards into a bashful smile. “even i feel bad asking you for help. i don’t like to trouble you but i know you wouldn’t say no even if i did, especially not to me.” you were ashamed to admit that, but you could swear from the bottom of your heart that you only turn to jeno as a last resort because you didn’t want to be like one of those people who only went to him when they needed something. 

“what?” jeno pouted even more. “but i like doing things for you. i’m your boyfriend, i’d hate it if you went to anyone else for help.” 

“it’d make me feel useless,” he muttered. 

you were quick to respond. “hey! don’t say that… you’re not useless at all.”

“anyway, don’t change the subject. after this project, please say no if you don’t have the capacity to help others, including me! if your worry is not knowing how to reject others, you could start with me. we are already so close, i won’t take it to heart if i asked you for help and you said no. let alone acquaintances who barely know you. baby steps, okay?” you looked at jeno expectantly. 

jeno’s expression turned into one that was half a frown and half a smile, you could tell that he was feeling conflicted about it. “like you said, i could never say no to you, baby…” 

you tried to bite back the small smile that made its way onto your face because of the nickname so that jeno would take you seriously. “so, you‘d do something about this?” 

“only for you, yes.” jeno’s face broke into a wide smile as he tightened his grip on your hand. 

“you’re supposed to say no!” you replied jokingly in order to play off the shyness that came with jeno’s affectionate gesture. “you’ve failed the first test, i thought you were better than this…”

an incomprehensible noise left jeno’s mouth. “i’m so confused right now… so do i say yes or no?”

you sighed, well aware of how this was going nowhere given jeno’s innocence that sometimes made him come off a little… naive. like the time you told him that you were going to teach him something to tell your parents in your native tongue and he obediently repeated after you, only asking what it was later on (it was a curse word, and you were glad he asked before the actual meeting with your parents). 

“nevermind… the next time someone asks you for help, just tell me. i’ll make sure they’d never want to ask a favour from you ever again.”

jeno’s eyes widened in shock, “o-okay.”

“i’m just kidding. but seriously, i’d help you reject them so you don’t have to,” you said with a smile. 

“thank you,” jeno said sincerely, “i know you mean well, and i appreciate you looking out for me.” 

at his words, you leaned over the table to give jeno a peck on his right cheek, on the spot just slightly below his beauty mark. he laughed quietly, his smile uncontrollably becoming wider by the second.

the both of you were so immersed, it was fortunate that the café was empty enough for the moment to remain intimate. better yet, the owner was preoccupied with his tasks, not sparing a single glance at the direction of your table. 

between soft giggles and shy smiles, you and jeno indulged in each other’s loving company until the sun fell, its golden rays penetrating through the glass window situated next to your table. 

[etherealphosphor]

Shelved Emotions

⟡ Contains: Dottore x Gn!Reader, Sfw, Fluff, Dottore tries to hide/get rid of his feelings at first, Dottore’s segments like the reader

⟡ Dottore’s thoughts are in blue italics

⟡ Segment names/colors: Zeta, Delta, Theta, Epsilon

Dottore was frustrated. Despite his best efforts, he could not escape the weakness of human emotion. He devoted himself to his research, blocking out all distractions. He refused to let his feelings hinder him; they were the last thing keeping him from perfect, unbiased results.

He targeted his feelings toward you in particular. Dottore was partly angry and partly ashamed that he could even fancy someone; the mere idea was childish to him. What use was it to think about you, his errand runner, when scientific research was far more important?

However, every time you looked at him with those bright eyes or smiled sweetly at him, he was rendered speechless. How was it possible to feel this way about anyone? And how in the world could that someone possibly be more important to him than his experiments?

Dottore slowly began to lose all interest in his work, as his thoughts were starting to get in the way.

This has gone too far, and now I can no longer focus properly on my research. I must find a way to rid myself of these emotions.

And so, with that, Dottore got up from his desk and went off to look for something—anything—to aid him in his search. He began to walk towards the library, a fairly large room with shelf after shelf of informational books. While Dottore did have his own smaller personal collection of research books, there would be nothing about romance in any of them.

But before he could walk through the doorway, he began to hear familiar voices. This stopped him in his tracks, and he peeked into the room, staying quiet so as not to be seen.

There, he saw you surrounded by four of his segments. It was obvious to Dottore that all of them were competing for your attention, and there was no way you hadn’t noticed as well.

"So, [Name], which one of us do you think is the best segment?" Delta said, smiling at you.

"Oh, well, I don’t know—"

You were quickly cut off by Theta, who began to make sarcastic remarks as usual. "It’s obviously me; I mean, I'm the perfect version. Who wouldn’t pick me?"

"Hm, personally, I think that [Name] likes me the most. After all, I’m closest to the original." Zeta said, tilting your chin up with one hand.

Epsilon grabbed Zeta’s hand away, scowling at him. "Maybe [Name] would prefer somebody a little less—I don’t know—cold?"

"Woah, calm down, Shorty. You don’t have to give him the death glare." Theta chuckled, patting Epsilon’s head.

"Hey! I’m not that short!"

Epsilon was the youngest of the four, which meant he was often teased for his height. He also happened to be the feistiest, making it even more entertaining for Theta to poke fun at him.

Delta had to physically restrain Epsilon so that he wouldn’t start attacking Theta. "Epsilon, please, he’s not worth getting worked up over."

Meanwhile, Zeta took the opportunity to start playing with your hair. "[Name], do you have a significant other?"

Dottore had had enough of this, and he quickly walked into the library.

"You four. What is going on here?" Dottore’s expression was dark, and he spoke in a very harsh tone.

Instantly, Epsilon stopped struggling, Delta’s grip loosened, Theta stopped laughing, and even Zeta’s ever-present smirk faded.

"Oh, uh.. boss, we can explain—" Epsilon stammered, but was cut off by Dottore.

"I want no explanations. You all must clean my office, and if it isn’t spotless by the time I get back, you will all face great consequences. Do you understand? And especially you, Zeta. We will be having a conversation later."

The four segments turned to each other, silently exchanging looks of shock.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go, now!"

Quickly, all the segments left the library, leaving Dottore alone with you.

"Are you okay, [Name]?" Dottore said, his tone much gentler than it was a minute ago.

"Yeah, I’m fine; can you please not punish them too harshly? I’m the one who greeted them first. Why did you even send them away at all? They didn’t have any work to do." You replied, looking at Dottore with eyes full of concern.

Dottore’s heart lurched with jealousy. Why couldn’t you worry about him like that? Why did it have to be his segments?

"I have my reasons. Please don’t be afraid; I won’t do anything bad to them. Mostly just scold them for bothering you, that’s all."

"They weren’t bothering me, not a bit. I actually quite enjoy their company; without them, my day off would be quite uneventful." You said, determined to clear the segments’ names.

"Ah, very well, then. I’ll go a little easier on them in that case." Dottore sighed. There was no way he could say no to those eyes of yours.

"Thank you; I’m glad." You smiled at him.

That small action was enough to make Dottore blush. "No problem. Anyway, what are you doing in the library? Looking for something to read?"

"Well, obviously," you chuckled, "but I can’t find anything good; it all seems a little boring to me."

"That would be because this is a research library. If fiction is what you are looking for, you won’t find it here."

"Oh, that’s a shame, then." You looked a little disappointed, your voice losing its usual bright tone. "I haven’t had anything to read for months."

No, no. I mustn’t say it. It isn’t necessary. I don’t have to. Aren't I trying to stop these pesky feelings from happening? Nothing is stopping me from bidding [Name] farewell right here. But.. they look so upset.

However, despite Dottore trying to stop himself, he ended up saying it anyway.

"Why don’t you come back to my personal chambers? I believe I have a shelf of various works of fiction in there. If you wish, you can have everything; I have no need for any of them."

Your eyes lit up. "Wait, really? You do? I’d love to go check it out and maybe borrow a few. Though, I would never take your books from you, even if you don’t see a need for them right now. You might want them in the future; you never know."

"I suppose you are correct. Well then, shall we?" Dottore extended his hand as a polite gesture. What he didn’t expect was for you to actually take it.

You wrapped your fingers around Dottore's, smiling at him. "Mhm, let’s go."

Dottore’s face went red, and his eyes widened a little. His hand tightened around yours, and he began to lead you towards his room. To get to it, one must go through his office first, and so Dottore opened the door and walked in.

There, the four segments were standing, awaiting Dottore’s return. When they saw your hand in his, all of them felt secretly disappointed, wishing it was them who got to hold your hand. Except for Epsilon—with him, it was no secret. He was glaring jealously at Dottore as you two walked by.

"Shorty, fix your face." Theta said, nudging him.

"Stop saying I’m short!"

"Epsilon, stop yelling, or you will be disciplined further. Do you want to clean the rest of the offices in the headquarters?" Dottore spoke coldly.

"No, I don’t. Sorry, boss."

With that, Dottore unlocked the door leading to his room and led you inside. His heart was still beating quicker than usual, but he was starting to get used to the feeling of having your hand in his. He decided to leave the door open, as the last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable.

"Well, this is my room. It’s nothing special, but it serves its purpose. Over there by the window should be the shelf I was speaking about." Dottore pointed to it and sat down on his bed.

You looked over the contents of the shelf until a series of teal books caught your eye. All of them were quite banged up and evidently pretty old.

"Woah, is this what I think it is? I can’t believe you have it." You said as you pulled the first one off the shelf.

"Hm? [Name], did you find something you like?"

"Oh my gosh, all eleven volumes? I didn’t even get that far." You smiled, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

In your hands, you held the first volume of The Fox in the Dandelion Sea. Dottore got up and walked behind you, staring down at the book.

"The Fox in the Dandelion Sea? Isn’t that a fairytale?" Dottore asked, wondering what interest you would have in a children’s book.

"Mhm, it’s my favorite. My parents used to read it to me before bed when I was a kid, but we never ended up finishing the whole series." You told him, smiling down at the book.

"Ah, I see. Well, feel free to take as many as you want; I know they aren’t particularly lengthy. You can come back at any time if you don’t want to take the entire series with you at once."

You grabbed five books off the shelf, holding them under one arm. "Thank you so much, Dottore."

"Anytime, seriously. It’s not as if I’m doing anything with them." Dottore said as he walked with you towards the door of his office.

"Aww, are you leaving already, [Name]? Not even going to say goodbye?" Zeta teased as Dottore opened the door for you.

"Ah, where are my manners? I’ll see you guys later." You said as you waved to the segments.

Then, smiling at Dottore, you lowered your voice a little. "I really appreciate you letting me borrow these books; it means a lot to me."

Suddenly, you wrapped your arms around Dottore, pulling him into an embrace.

Dottore’s face instantly went red. "I- Uh- [Name]? What are you doing?"

"Ah! I’m sorry. You’re my boss; that was weird. I apologize if I crossed a boundary." You let go, mortified, and you stared at your feet, a blush slowly creeping onto your face.

"Oh no, no. It’s okay; don’t worry. I was just a little surprised, that’s all; you didn’t make me uncomfortable." Dottore affectionately ruffled your hair, assuring you it was okay.

This made you blush even more, and you smiled at Dottore again before walking out. "Have a nice evening, Dottore. Don’t overwork yourself, okay? You have an awful habit of burning yourself out."

"You too, [Name]." Dottore smiled back, waving as you left.

Once he closed the door, Dottore’s expression instantly turned neutral again. His segments were all staring at him.

"Boss, what was that? You seriously didn’t make a move?" Theta said, sounding quite annoyed.

"What do you mean by that, Theta?"

"You seriously don’t know? How thick is your skull?"

"Rude."

"I might be rude, but at least I can take a hint."

"Do you really want extra chores? Because that is what you will get if you continue speaking to me like that."

"Hmmph. You really need to lighten up."

Dottore ignored Theta’s comment. "Theta, are you suggesting that there’s a possibility that [Name] could reciprocate my feelings?"

Delta joined the conversation. "Boss, to me, it’s very obvious that [Name] fancies you. Their face went a bright shade of red when they hugged you, and they also seem to care quite a bit about your health. Plus, I don’t think there’s any chance that the way they look at you is platonic."

Dottore’s eyes opened a little wider. "A-Are you sure? Is that really what you think?"

"There’s no doubt in my mind, boss."

Over the next few days, Dottore was constantly flustered by you simply doing your job. So much to the point where he couldn't even do his research; all he could think about was you.

Once, you brought Dottore some papers he needed to sign, and when handing them to him, your hands brushed for a moment. Even that small action gave Dottore butterflies, and he promptly looked away from you so you wouldn’t see him blushing.

That night, Dottore called Delta into his office.

"Delta, you’ve always been one of my most rational segments. Which is why I wanted to ask you if maybe you could help me with this problem." Dottore said, looking across his desk at Delta.

"I can always help out, boss. Is this concerning [Name]?"

Dottore nodded. "Yes, it’s about exactly what you think it is. I’ve come to find that I cannot get rid of my feelings, nor can I hide them. I have come to embrace them, and I accept that I am truly in love with [Name]. However, I still wish to find another way to stop these thoughts from interfering with my work."

"Well, I suppose you could confess to them? If [Name] admits to liking you as well—which they probably will—you might begin to feel less nervous as you get more comfortable with them. And if they tell you that they don’t feel the same, then at least you will have your peace of mind."

Dottore sighed. "I guess you’re right. However, I heavily doubt that I could muster up the courage to confess to them in person; I’d have no idea what to say."

"You could always send them a letter and a gift." Delta suggested.

"That’s a good idea, yeah. But what kind of thing would they like?" Dottore thought for a moment. "Oh! I know!"

Dottore quickly got up from his desk and walked into his room to grab the first five volumes of The Fox in the Dandelion Sea, which you had returned a couple days ago.

"Boss, what did you think of?" Delta asked as Dottore put the books down on his desk.

"I’m going to recreate these books from scratch. I’ll make the cover, write the words, and illustrate the pages. You can tell [Name] to take the whole week off, say that I’m working on something confidential and I need total concentration. It shouldn’t take me too long; I’ve done the process a couple times in the past. Especially because these are such small books, with only a couple pages each."

"Don’t overwork yourself, boss. I know how much [Name] worries about you. You have all the time in the world to get your gift ready." Delta said, watching Dottore gather papers and pens.

"They really worry for me that much?" Dottore looked up at Delta, his eyes widening a little.

"Oh, definitely. [Name] mentions it all the time."

"Well, that's very sweet of them." Dottore said, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Delta nodded. "It is. Now, boss, is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Ah, yes, there is; can you possibly find me a dandelion plant?" Dottore asked him.

"Sure, I can do that, no problem. I’ll check the stores in town." Delta replied, turning around and walking towards the door.

"Before you go, I have a question for you."

"Yes, what is it?" Delta looked back at him with his hand on the doorknob.

"Why are you helping me? I know you like [Name] as well; why do you bother? Shouldn’t you be trying to woo them like the other three?"

Delta smiled. "The other three know that they have no chance, boss. Sure, they might try to flirt with [Name], but they don’t actually expect [Name] to reciprocate. The situation is a little different with me, as I don’t try to flirt with them as much. We segments pick up on things you don’t, boss; I know that [Name] would be much happier in a relationship with you. Which is why I don’t even bother trying hard; I already know the outcome."

"What? You’re really that sure that [Name] likes me?" Dottore responded, eyes wide.

"I am indeed, boss." Delta said as he walked out.

Over the next few days, Dottore was constantly cooped up in his office, working on your gift. There was even a sign on the door warning anyone other than his segments not to come in. Dottore barely slept at all, and when he did, it was at his desk.

However, after many sleepless nights, he did eventually manage to finish your gift. There in front of him sat five beautifully made fairytale books, even prettier than the original. The illustrations inside the book were painted with watercolor and outlined in ink, giving them a lovely aesthetic. Dottore flipped through all of them once more, making sure everything was of the finest quality.

Then he began to write you a letter.

"Dear [Name],

I’m aware that you must have picked up on my strange behavior as of late, and I must apologize if it has concerned you. In truth, there is something I must come clean about. I have fallen deeply in love with you, [Name]. I cannot keep this confession to myself for any longer, or else I fear it may eat me from the inside out. If you do not reciprocate my feelings, I completely understand. I will have you immediately switched to run errands for a different harbinger, and your pay will not change. You do not even have to speak to me. If you do wish to have a conversation about this, though, I will be in my private chambers. The door is unlocked.

Sincerely, Il Dottore"

Once he had sealed the letter in an envelope, he set it down on top of the books. Then, reaching over to the pot on his desk, Dottore plucked a grey dandelion and set it down on top of the stack. Once he was done, he stood up and grabbed a length of brown string, wrapping the gift nicely so that nothing would slide off.

Just then, Delta came to check in on him, as he did every once in a while. "Boss, how is everything going?"

"Oh, hello, Delta. Things have been just fine. All I need to do now is put my gift in [Name]’s room so that they’ll find it later. Since it’s late in the morning, shouldn’t [Name] be in the library? Could you possibly distract them for me, just to make sure nothing goes wrong?"

"Of course, boss. That’ll be no problem." Delta responded, walking out of the office with Dottore trailing behind him.

Once they reached the library, Delta went off to chat with you, and Dottore continued walking. He stopped in front of the door to your room and tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. Quickly walking inside, Dottore set the stack of books down on your desk and got out. The last thing he wanted was to invade your space more than he had to.

I won’t get my hopes up, even if Delta and the others are telling me that [Name] has romantic feelings for me. I don’t want to be disappointed. Even if they don’t like me, I hope they treasure my gift.

Dottore was deep in thought as he walked past the library, but snapped out of it when he heard Delta’s voice.

"Boss, did your business go according to plan?"

Dottore stopped walking and looked at him, saying, "Delta, come now; we have things to attend to."

Delta got up from the chair he was sitting in. "Ah, yes, boss. I’ll see you later, [Name]."

Delta waved goodbye to you and began to head back to the office with Dottore. Dottore seemed lost in thought, staring at his feet.

"Are you nervous, boss?"

"Yes, Delta, I am very nervous. How could I not be? I could lose [Name] if things don’t go well." Dottore said, his voice shaking with worry.

"It’ll be okay; I wouldn’t assure you of something I wasn’t completely sure about. [Name] really does like you, boss." Delta comforted Dottore, sensing that he was on the edge of a panic attack.

"I really hope you’re right, Delta." Dottore replied as they reached his office.

"Boss, I have a question: what happens next? You haven’t told me your whole plan."

"In the letter, I told them that if they want to chat with me, I will be waiting here." Dottore explained as he opened the door to his room.

Meanwhile, you had gotten up from where you had been reading and made your way back to your room. Opening the door, you walked inside and found a small stack of books on your desk with a dandelion on top.

What is this?

You untied the string binding the books together and picked up the envelope addressed to you underneath the flower. Tearing it open, you took out the letter and began to read it.

As you scanned the text, your eyes widened. Not even bothering to look at the gift Dottore had prepared for you, you started to run to his office. His amazing craftsmanship could be admired later, but you needed to tell him how you felt immediately.

Catching your breath at the door, you opened it and walked inside. Delta was sitting at Dottore’s desk, but you didn’t even notice him.

You knocked on the door that led into Dottore’s room, saying, "Hey, Dottore? You’re in there, right?"

"I am; come in."

When you opened the door, you found Dottore sitting on the end of his bed, his back turned to you, and his head in his hands. Silently, you sat down next to him.

"Dottore, look at me, please." You spoke in a soft tone.

Dottore looked up, his beautiful red eyes filled with worry. It was obvious that he was assuming the worst. You smiled at him, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him.

At first, Dottore was caught off guard, but soon he pulled you into his embrace, careful not to break the kiss. He poured all his love and affection into that kiss, eager to show you just how much you meant to him.

Although neither of you wanted to, eventually you had to pull away to catch your breath.

Putting your hand on Dottore’s cheek, you stared into his eyes. "I love you, Dottore. I always have. Everything about you drives me crazy. Your eyes, your hair, your voice—everything. To the point where I can’t even think straight."

"I love you too, [Name]. Words cannot describe how lucky I am to have you in my life."

Dottore leaned back in, passionately kissing you once more as he held you close to him.

[pokemoncenter]

Regarding my Salamence, Ace, for whom you rendered advice the other day.

While there were no wind tunnels within a reasonable distance, there is a skydiving simulator of sufficient size to allow a Salamence to simulate the sensation of soaring on an updraft. Had to reserve the time slot for a full party of ten, but it was worth it. Ace seemed to very much enjoy himself. Perhaps the best thing to come of the trip, though, is a particularly feisty Pidgey. Its trainer was having a hard time managing its temper, and surprisingly, Ace took to humoring it with a pretend “battle.” Seems to struggle to fly still, being so young, and I think Ace is reminded of his days as a Bagon seeing it.

Long story short, I’ve a Pidgey now and Ace seems much more content with a companion. The skydiving simulator seems to have invigorated the old dragon, too.

Appreciate all you do for random trainers with what are probably very mundane concerns.

Helping 'random trainers with mundane concerns' is part of the reason I became a veterinarian. The feeling of helping another... I cannot express it. It fills my heart in a way I cannot describe.

In other words, I am more than happy to help. I am glad to hear that you and Ace got such a good result of this, and your new partner as well. A Pidgeot trained by a Salamence sounds like it could be a proper terror in battles... I suspect in a few years I will hear great things of this Pidgey of yours.

[puuuders]

In Pursuit of Something Better ~ Part 5

Ghost fanfiction

Previous | Next

~

Aaauuugghh this one gets raunchy, it was inevitable. But it's all for the plot... Totally.

~

Terzo and the ghouls are on the Popestar tour, and Terzo has a plan to spread HIS message without Sister Imperator getting suspicious.

2.5k words

Contains smut

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The first ritual took place in Rochester, New York, approximately three months after Terzo had ascended to papacy of 2016. That and the other completed concerts of the Popestar tour went phenomenal apart from a few bloopers, much to the surprise and not understood disappointment of Sister Imperator. She refused to attend, and even upon hearing of the success she brushed Terzo off, offering only vague ‘advice’ of “there will always be room for improvement”. There was already so much of that. There was more crowd interaction than ever before; especially during one of the newly written songs that Terzo and his adopted ghouls had produced, called “Cirice”. Terzo would kneel and snatch the hand of a lucky audience member, no matter the gender. His mismatched eyes and practically tangible lust stunned the soul had taken the hand of. To the naked eye, this was everything Sister Imperator wanted for the project: a firm leader with youth, stamina, and sexual charisma. 

However, this quickly implemented tradition of delving into the soul of a stranger was not as innocent as it seemed. The new Papa and the only quintessence ghoul had come to a somewhat reluctant agreement days after their first meeting. Alpha was right, there was absolutely nothing to lose. Omega did not trust Terzo necessarily, however he did not have much of a choice. He respected Terzo for the fact that he did hand over the truest power he had over the ghouls, the Grimoire, which is filled with sacred texts and spells that evidently rendered the ghouls powerless at any moment their papa decided. This book was used to abuse Omega and his pack less than a year ago by a more tyrannical leader. Secondo would essentially torture them, finding any excuse of ‘improper’ behavior to cbain them in the basement and perform painful spells. There was an incident where a former ghoul had been banished, the only ghoul to suffer such a fate. It was unclear whether or not this was on purpose or accidental. Now, the Grimoire was in Omega's possession, stored securely under the carpet in the closet of his dorm, with his dresser over top. 

The tradition, which was often referred to as “getting Ciriced”, went as such: before the show, Omega would latch on to Terzo's mind, and hold on to that connection until they performed the song. When Terzo would find a member, Omega would channel his quintessence through Papa, much more than his body could take, forcefully transferring it into the member and filling them with Terzo's thoughts instead of Omega's. Of course, this would not be a 100% efficiency rate. They still had free will. However, Terzo would be able to communicate with them telepathically with the spiritual connection, a much deeper level that his lyrics could not reach. That member would spread Terzo's own message, until it was apparent that the vast majority of the crowds were there for Terzo. 

The first time this happened, though, did not go as planned. 

“Your care for your dear Papa shows more than you would think,” Terzo chuckled, crossing his legs. “There is no need to worry.”

“I have done this many times!” Omega hissed, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “I did it to you before and you… know what it did.”

“Do you think I have no self control?” Terzo tilted his head. 

“You will lose all concept of self control, dumb fuck. That's what I'm trying to tell you.”

“Then I will cum in my pants.”

Omega's face flushed in embarrassment. 

“Are you serious?” 

Terzo shrugged, swiping dust off of his black pants. “My pants are not worth more than this. I have extras anyway! We will do it before intermission, I will cum in my pants, and then break time! Capire?”

Omega stared at him with his mouth slightly open, fangs poking out of his mouth. 

“You are disgusting.”

“It is settled. Now, do the thing!” 

Omega sighed. It did not feel normal to be responsible for Terzo's future release, but he indirectly owed it to him. He focused his gaze into Terzo's frightening eyes, slowly entering his consciousness. Terzo hummed, feeling parts of him tingle, uncrossing his legs to hide a certain thing between them.

Omega pretended not to notice. He blinked a few times, ensuring he had a tight grip on his mind, and sighed again in stress.

“This is your last chance,” Omega warned, “I am not kidding when I tell you you can't handle it.”

“You think I am weak? I have taken much more!”

Omega scoffed and stood up from his chair. 

“Yuck.”

Terzo felt something else other than disgust enter his mind at that moment. 

Terzo would be lying if he said he was not filled with a mix of his own and Omega's nerves as the strums of Cirice began. He had taken a quick run backstage to fix his hair while the ghouls played the introduction. He drew a deep breath, shaking his nervous hands like water was on them, and stuffed a cloth down his pants for better measure. He strutted back around stage at his que, singing softly, constantly tossing reassuring glaces at Omega. He could sense that his nerves were worse than his own, and he wouldn't even be the one ejaculating uncontrollably in front of hundreds if not thousands.

Terzo began searching the crowd. He might as well do it while staring into the eyes of someone he found attractive. His heart rate picked up, his hands under his gloves began to sweat. As he approached his devastating verse, Omega mercifully began pushing more and more quintessence into him, so that his brain would not break from the overflow. Finally, he spotted a lady with dark red hair and thick eyeliner, begging for his attention with her bright green eyes. He breathed sharply, the sound echoing into the microphone, and suddenly dropped to his knees, scooping her already waving hand into his own. 

Omega squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, coursing every drop of quintessence in him through the smaller man. He cringed as he heard a squeak between words. He was shocked Terzo did not crumble into nothing but a groaning mess.

But that did not mean Terzo didn't cum instantly. 

Terzo squeezed her hand tightly, choking out his lyrics through wide eyes as he struggled to contain himself. It was like a never ending orgasm, feeling it in every inch of his body. He watched her eyes light up, feeling a mutual understanding of freedom. That the Clergy was no longer about world domination, but the returning of absolute free will. No more oppression, no filtering of thought and speech, no fear of being sacrificed. The light belonged to the people. 

He exhaled heavily, retracting his hand and pulling himself off of his quivering knees. The cloth did well in absorbing his substances as he looked down to check himself. He could not look at Omega, and Omega could not look at him until he finished the song, and the band returned backstage for a 20 minute intermission. 

Pebble snickered as he watched his struggling Papa stumble backstage, pushing his weight against the wall as he slid towards the dressing room. The quintessence was still in him, but much lighter. Delta glared as Omega rushed past him without any acknowledgement of his fellow ghouls, bumping into him with his shoulder and following behind Terzo.

“I think Terzo is getting Meg's dick now.” Pebble snickered. 

“No he isn't.” Alpha hissed, giving Pebble a look that screamed at him to shut up. Pebble obeyed, looking forward as they walked, feeling the tension emitting from Delta. 

“It is necessary.” Alpha spoke softly Delta. Delta didn't look at him, and continued to stare angrily at Omega as the two disappeared into the dressing room. 

“I know.”

“Imagine how I feel,” Alpha chuckled, “he hasn't fucked me in months.”

“I don't care about that!” Delta barked in an exasperated tone. “He is going to ruin everything.”

“What do you mean?” Alpha asked. They walked past the dressing room, hearing the click of the lock. Delta growled. 

“What do you think would happen if the Clergy found out about that?” 

“Omega would-”

“No, we ALL would get sent to the fucking Pit!” He hissed. They walked towards an exit where they stood outside, Delta lighting a cigarette to calm his nerves. 

“No,” Aero spoke calmly, usually being the most rational of the ghouls, “just Omega. It was only Earth that got killed.”

“But this is the second fucking time,” Delta's hand began to shake as he struggled to contain himself, “first it's Earth acting up, now Omega- the QUINTESSENCE ghoul! He is the best of the best and he is fucking Terzo, so what will Sister think of us?” 

“We don't know if Omega is having relations with Papa.” Aero stated. “If we don't know, how would Sister Imperator ever know? She never checks us.”

“Who knows, but it'll happen. Just like Earth.” Delta muttered the last part under his breath. 

“Earth was a dumbass,” Alpha scoffed, “he didn't even try to hide it. It was his fault anyway for being a masochist or something.”

Delta huffed a breath out of his nose in slight amusement. 

“Well, true.”

Terzo immediately dropped on to the vanity chair, breathing heavily and looking up at Omega with smudged makeup around his mouth and eyes. He was sweating and exhausted, much more than he usually was during intermissions. He shrugged his jacket off and unbuttoned his white shirt. 

Omega looked away respectfully, gradually lowering the quintessence as to not confuse Terzo's brain with the rapid changes of his body. Terzo huffed, and he let out a whine, holding his head up with his fist against the vanity table. His shirt was half unbuttoned and his body shook. 

“Are you alright?” Omega asked. Suddenly the quintessence began to drain faster. Terzo gripped the edge of the table. 

“I am sorry.” Terzo huffed. He began to drool. Omega listened, hearing the buckle of his belt.  “Do not look.”

“Do you need your new pants?” Omega whispered, moving towards Terzo's bag. 

“No.”

Omega froze. He continued to listen, now in horror as he heard Terzo grunt, an identifiable wet noise quietly moving. It was loud enough for the quintessence to transfer a silent message between them. 

“I can't help it.” Terzo whined in response. “I can't help it.”

Omega's heart was racing as he stood completely still, facing away from Terzo, listening to his noises. Terzo gasped as the quintessence pumped again through him. 

“Ghoul…” Terzo huffed, turning in his chair, clawing at the back of it. 

“Finish…” Omega whispered. “Hurry up.”

“Come here-”

“No.” Omega snapped. 

Terzo whined again and his hand flew back down, covering his mouth with his other and jerking wildly. He had no patience to beg for help at the moment, every fiber of his being focused on cumming again at his own will this time. Omega could feel his pleasure, practically torturing himself by continuing the flow of magic, but he could not bring himself to stop. It was in his nature to feed on other's lust, to encourage it. He dug his nails into his own thighs, gritting his teeth, trying his best to ignore his throbbing erection. He could not do this with his Papa. He could not do this with a human, he could not do this with-

Terzo let out a loud, almost agonizing whimper like an animal in heat, hiccuping his breaths that sent a shockwave through Omega. Omega suddenly clutched onto Terzo's mind, refusing to allow him to finish, and turned around at the same moment. 

“You-!” Terzo gasped as his eyes fluttered open to yell at Omega, only to find himself getting shoved to the ground. Omega tore his pants off with a growl, and then his own, looping his arms around Terzo's thighs that hung in the air. 

Terzo's mouth hung open, staring desperately, watching Omega's cock spring out and disappear behind his thighs at the same moment. He barely had any time to think, not that he could with the quintessence taking over every cell of his body, before Omega spat on himself and stroked. 

“We won't do this again,” Omega growled, his voice quivering. “Understand? Never again.”

“Dont say that when you are horny,” Terzo whimpered. “You may not mean it.”

“I mean it!” Omega pressed his tip against Terzo's entrance with force. Terzo gasped and spread his legs open further, one hand flying to grip the leg of the vanity table and his other stroking himself. He threw his head back, arching his hips as Omega pushed inside, moaning mindlessly. 

“Shut up!” Omega hissed, thrusting slowly at first. “Be quiet!”

Terzo continued to wail with a mix of “please” and “yes”. It was enough to turn Omega as brainless as him, thrusting sloppily and rough, his thumbs pressing painfully hard into the dips of Terzo's shaking and bouncing hips. 

Omega had never acted on a temptation so risky,  and he never thought he would, especially so aggressively. He drilled into Terzo with no regard to how small he was, or how he could hurt him. It was not because he didn't care, but because he was just as overwhelmed as Terzo was. Though the erotic look on his face told him everything he needed to know about how Terzo felt. It only made him fuck harder, delivering everything he had to turn Terzo into a mess. He began to question why he relented for so long. There was truly nothing for him to lose except himself. 

Terzo gripped Omega's arms as he held his breath. White streams of cum sputtered out of him, hitting his own stomach and Omega's chest that hovered over him. He left small scratch marks on Omega's arms, which, for some reason, drove Omega over the edge. He buried himself in, stopping his thrusts and threw his own head back, filling Terzo's warm ass up with his cum and feeling it drip out of him. He shut his eyes and remained in this position for a moment longer, listening to each other's labored breaths and Terzo's occasional whine. 

“Never again, mio roccia…” Terzo sighed. “I agree… Not again…”

Omega gently pulled himself out, watching the bump in Terzo's lower belly dissapear. That was erotic enough to sprout another half on, but he ignored it. Cum dropped out of the used hole, and Omega quickly sat up on his knees to grab a tissue from the vanity. It was not the best for the job, but it was enough to clean Terzo. He gently caressed his thigh as he did so, noticing Terzo's silence. He looked up at him. Terzo was watching, absolutely infatuated. 

“Ah… you did not have to clean me like that.” Terzo chuckled dryly. Omega furrowed his eyebrows and looked back down to finish. 

“I made the mess though.”

“It is my own body, and you are not my lover.” Terzo argued. 

“Anyone respectable would take care of you after.” Omega spoke with a slight harshness, not directed towards Terzo. Terzo went quiet again and Omega gently lowered his legs, throwing away the tissue and moving to get Terzo a new pair of pants. The ones he was wearing had been torn in half. 

“Thank you.” Terzo said sheepishly. Omega helped him up and gave him his pants. 

“We are not doing that again.” Omega repeated, looking sternly at him. “I will get killed if I get caught doing that with you.”

“Why would you die? Is it dangerous?” Terzo asked, concerned. 

“No. But if Sister found out-”

“Fuck Sister!” Terzo snapped, buttoning his pants. “She is old and useless! I am Papa. I tell you, fuck who you want! All you want.” Omega chuckled. 

“If only that was how it worked.”

“It will be how it works. When she and my father are gone, I will become Frater Imperator! And you will be afraid of me.” Terzo spoke triumphantly, his white eye glimmering with passion. 

“Not after what I just did to you.” Omega smirked. 

“Well… you won't be afraid- You'll- You'll be under my thumb!” Terzo corrected. He turned to look in the mirror, fixing his makeup to finish the show. 

“I suppose.” Omega brushed himself off and grabbed his guitar that he set up on the wall. “I better go.”

“Yes, go get food, water, whatever you need. Goodbye, my dear Omega.”

Omega gently shut the door behind him.

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 19 - This can't be happening

It isn’t until they are almost back at the school that Satoru notices that something isn’t right. It’s not a big issue yet, but he feels his grasp on Infinity slipping and that hasn’t happened ever since he automated it.

Maybe the fight just took more out of him than he expected, that’s always a possibility, but it was a relatively low-level curse, almost not worth the effort for him and so this is worrying.

But instead of going to Shoko like he maybe should, his feet carry him to Suguru’s room.

Suguru isn’t back yet—he’s out on his own mission—but Satoru drapes himself all over his bed anyway. He prefers this room over his own, mostly because it smells of Suguru and it makes him feel as if he’s home in a way his own room could never do and he thinks he’ll just wait for Suguru here.

Once he’s back they can figure out just what the hell is going on with his technique, because Suguru always has all the smart ideas anyway and that way Satoru will be in safe hands.

With that thought in mind he decides to take a quick nap while he waits for Suguru’s return and he doesn’t even have time to finish that thought before he’s out like a light.

“Hey, Satoru,” Suguru wakes him up with repeated pokes to his shoulder and Satoru groans as he slaps his hand away.

“Leave me be,” he grumbles, face squished into the pillow and he almost cracks a smile when he hears Suguru’s exasperated sigh.

“What are you doing here?” Suguru wants to know even though Satoru thinks it’s more than obvious.

“Napping,” he gives back, finally turning his head just enough to be able to peer up at Suguru. “Are you stupid?”

“Are you maybe the rudest guy I’ve ever met?” Suguru shoots back but there’s a frown on his face as he squats down next to the bed. “You don’t have Infinity up at all. Did your curse exhaust you that much?”

“Huh?” Satoru mumbles out because of course he has Infinity up, he always has Infinity up these days, with the only exception being Suguru.

“Your eyes,” Suguru says in explanation and points towards his own. “They don’t shine like they usually do. And normally you already wake up with your technique in place.”

It’s true; Infinity is always on these days, even when he sleeps, so Satoru’s eyes are always glowing with that eerie light. He tries to activate Infinity now, because if Suguru says it’s not on then it’s not on, but he’s met with nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru immediately asks because of course he notices the slight frown on Satoru’s face.

“I can’t activate it,” Satoru mutters as he pushes himself up on Suguru’s bed, sitting with his legs crossed. “There’s—nothing.”

“What do you mean ‘there’s nothing’?” Suguru asks for clarification and Satoru can spot the worry on Suguru’s face; the same worry that gnaws at his own stomach.

“There’s no cursed energy in me. I can’t activate my technique,” he whispers out, the shock of that almost rendering him speechless. “This can’t be happening! Where is my—Suguru, I can’t do anything.”

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Suguru says, putting a calming hand to Satoru’s knee. “Come on, let’s go see Shoko. You still were able to use your cursed energy when you were fighting your curse, right? Maybe it did something to you, like some kind of after effect. We’ll figure it out.”

He sounds calm and collected but Satoru is close to panicking. He is nothing without his techniques because like this he cannot be the strongest sorcerer and even his Six Eyes are useless like this if he can’t use them to activate his techniques.

“Suguru, I’m useless, what is there to figure out?” Satoru snaps out because without his techniques he won’t be allowed to stay here and Suguru won’t want to have him around either.

He’s nothing without his techniques.

“We have to figure out how permanent it is,” Suguru calmly gives back as if this isn’t anything to worry about. “So we’re going to see Shoko right now.”

He drags Satoru off his bed and out of his room, not stopping to listen to Satoru’s complaints at all and before he knows it, they are standing in front of Shoko.

“What’s going on here?” Shoko drawls out, looking them up and down and clearly scanning for any injuries on them.

“Satoru can’t use his techniques. He says it feels as if there is no cursed energy in him.”

“Mh,” Shoko hums out, putting a hand to Satoru’s shoulder and Satoru knows that something is going on when her eyes widen.

“Oh dear, you’ve been poisoned,” she mutters, stepping closer, the look of concentration on her face deepening.

“Is it permanent?” Suguru asks when Satoru can’t find his voice to inquire about that because what if it is? What if this is destroying his ability to use cursed energy ever again and from now on he’s useless and powerless and his existence has no more worth?

“It’s not,” Shoko finally says and Satoru is so relieved his knees almost buckle under him. “It’s very, very slow. I’m guessing it took a while to kick in?”

“I exorcised the curse a few hours ago,” he says with a look at the clock in her room and Shoko nods.

“It’s slow to take effect and I bet it’s even slower to break down. It’s still working on impairing your energy and I’m guessing it will until midday tomorrow. And then it will probably take the same amount of time—maybe a little longer—to lose its effect. Meaning you’ll be out of commission for at least another two to three days.”

“That long?” Satoru whispers out because it’s too long.

By then Suguru will have gotten tired of him and won’t want to have him around anymore and Satoru doesn’t know how he managed to get Suguru to want to stick around in the first place, so there’s no way he can do it again.

“Can’t you heal it?” Suguru asks too and Satoru goes cold when he hears that.

It’s already started; Suguru wants Shoko to heal him so Satoru’s existence by his side will have meaning. It only makes sense.

“I can’t. I am barely able to detect it. We’ll just have to wait for it to run its course,” Shoko apologetically says and while Suguru only nods, Satoru sees his entire world crumble around him.

“But it will run its course, right?” Satoru can’t help but to ask and lets out a harsh breath when Shoko nods without hesitation.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then we’ll just wait it out. You’ll be on break until that happens, of course and Yaga promised me a few days off as well, so it kind of works out, right?” Suguru asks, a small smile on his face and Satoru wonders what he’s doing.

Satoru is only good for his powers and nothing else, so why would Suguru want to spend any time with him at all? Well, his powers and—

“At least I’m still pretty, right?” Satoru gets out, a desperate attempt to justify the fact that he’s around at all at the moment and besides his powers it’s always been his looks that captivated people.

He can totally work with this for a few days.

“If you keep your mouth shut, maybe,” Suguru offhandedly says as he checks his phone for the time. “Yaga should still be around, we better talk to him to let him know what’s going on.”

To Suguru it was just a thoughtless answer but to Satoru it felt more like the killing blow.

He won’t be able to stay by Suguru’s side like this, he desperately thinks and something must reflect on his face because Shoko takes a concerned step closer.

“Gojo, are you alright?” she wants to know and that also brings Suguru’s attention back to him, which is the worst thing ever because Satoru has nothing to keep it on him.

“Peachy,” he shortly says, because maybe if he doesn’t speak as much Suguru won’t tire of him entirely.

Maybe like this there will be something left at the end of the next few days that Satoru can salvage.

“I’m just gonna—sleep it off I guess,” he whispers out, forcing himself to keep his voice quiet and his sentences short and he walks off without a look back.

He trusts Suguru to explain things to Yaga and then in a few days maybe he can go back to Suguru’s side, but right now he has no justification to be there at all.

Satoru expects the upcoming days to be kind of miserable but if Suguru is still willing to talk to him at the end of it all, then it will have been worth it.

~*~*~

Satoru doesn’t even manage twelve hours before Suguru corners him in his own room, meaning that an escape is kind of pointless.

“Satoru, are you feeling okay?” Suguru asks as soon as he is inside, not even waiting for Satoru to respond to his knocking and Satoru gives in to the childish urge to hide himself away under the blanket.

“Do you need to see Shoko again?” Suguru wants to know next when no answer comes out of Satoru and for that Satoru sticks the top of his head out of the blanket so Suguru can see how he shakes it.

“Alright.” There’s relief in Suguru’s voice and Satoru can feel his eyes burn.

Of course he’d be relieved because if things didn’t get worse than that means Satoru soon will have his reason of existing in the first place back and then Suguru doesn’t have to pretend to like him for anything else anymore.

Satoru fully expects Suguru to leave after that because the most important things has been cleared up, but instead of doing that, Suguru sits down on Satoru’s bed.

“What’s going on then?” Suguru asks as if it’s clear to him that something else must be going on and Satoru thought he knew Suguru inside and out, but he never pegged him for the cruel type.

“Nothing,” he shortly says, remembering to not talk too much but it seems his answer isn’t quite what Suguru is looking for because he wrestles the blanket away from Satoru.

Only when Satoru is exposed to his searching gaze does he speak again.

“Something must be going on. We both have a few days off, at the same time, and you’re not hogging me or my space, like you normally would. So what is it? Is the loss of your energy hurting you in some way?”

“No.”

“Is it making you uncomfortable?” Suguru asks next and Satoru’s mouth twitches bitterly.

It’s not him who is uncomfortable after all.

“You don’t have to bother with me,” Satoru finally says when Suguru only continues to stare expectantly at him and that seems to catch him entirely off guard.

“What are you talking about?” Suguru breathes out once he finds his voice again and Satoru knows he won’t have any luck getting his blanket back, but that doesn’t mean he has to look Suguru in the face as he confirms what Satoru already knows.

“I’m useless like this. You don’t have to—it’s fine,” Satoru gets out even as his eyes burn and he wonders why the universe was so cruel to give him Suguru if he can slip so easily through his fingers again.

“You said that before, that you’re useless now,” Suguru muses. “What does that have to do with anything? You’re still able to watch a movie with me, even without your cursed energy, right?”

“It’s not like—I can’t—” Satoru starts but he doesn’t know how to finish any of his thoughts.

Suguru is waiting him out patiently, and Satoru thinks that maybe he can do this. If he sits next to Suguru and keeps his mouth shut, maybe it’ll work out.

“Sure,” he finally sighs out and is immediately pushed to the side as Suguru climbs on the bed, laptop already at the ready as if he knew that he would wear Satoru down.

He starts the queued movie without a seconds hesitation, even though Satoru is still trying to arrange himself in a way that hopefully won’t remind Suguru too much of his current existence. Satoru makes sure to keep space between them, to not give Suguru a reason to remember that he’s there at all and it works for all of five minutes before Suguru pauses the movie and turns towards him.

“Okay, spill. Something is going on and I don’t want any excuses.”

Suguru sounds angry and Satoru shrinks in on himself because he’s not used to having that directed at him and he isn’t sure what to do now. If he does speak Suguru will turn away from him because then even Satoru’s looks can’t help him and if he doesn’t speak then Suguru will only get more angry.

It’s a lose-lose situation and Satoru’s breath is starting to come in short with his panic.

“Hey, alright, breathe,” Suguru hurriedly says once he notices it and he reaches out for Satoru, which only makes him flinch back.

That in turn makes Suguru freeze.

“Satoru?” he asks, and he sounds confused and hurt and Satoru want’s to cry.

“I’m fine,” he shortly says, glad that his curtness is hiding how breathless he really is but of course Suguru isn’t so easily satisfied.

“You’re not fine, Satoru, something is going on. Won’t you tell me what has you this panicked?”

Suguru’s voice is soothing and like a balm to Satoru’s soul but he knows that if he speaks he’ll lose that forever. Maybe Suguru hasn’t yet realised that Satoru has no worth like this and Satoru doesn’t want to be the one to point that out to him, but he doesn’t think there’s a way around it, not with the way Suguru continues to stare at him.

“I’m useless,” Satoru finally chokes out, “which means I’m worthless. And not even my looks are able to cover that up, because I don’t know how to keep my fucking mouth shut!”

“Satoru—”

“Shoko said it’ll only be three days probably, but that’s enough time for you to realise just how wasted my existence is like this and you’ll leave me and it won’t matter if I get my power back or not because why would you care then?” he rushes out, feeling as if his chest is going to split in two because he can just imagine it.

Suguru is going to turn his back on him and walk away without a look back and then Satoru will be all alone again, all because he isn’t worth shit as a normal human.

He really should have listened to his family and never come here in the first place.

“I’m nothing like this,” Satoru finally says, driving the last nail into his own coffin and he shoves his hands under the blanket to hide how much they are shaking.

Satoru expects Suguru to get up and leave, or maybe laugh and tell Satoru that he’s damn right about everything he just said so it makes him freeze completely when Suguru pulls him into a hug.

“You’re still Satoru,” Suguru whispers and he almost sounds as if he’s going to cry, which can’t be right.

“I’m not though,” Satoru argues, even though he isn’t even sure why. He doesn’t want Suguru to turn away from him, but he can’t seem to stop talking. “I’m powerless which makes me nothing at all.”

“You’re wrong. It might be true for Gojo, greatest sorcerer alive, but you’re not that, are you? At least not only. You’re also Satoru, awkward teenage boy who I hold very dear to my heart. I care about you, Satoru, not about what you can do or how you look. That’s not who you are to me, don’t you know that?”

It doesn’t make sense what Suguru is saying to him, so Satoru stays quiet. It’s not as if he knows what to say to that anyway.

“Satoru,” Suguru says as he pulls away and Satoru can only blink in confusion when he cups Satoru’s cheeks in his hands. “You are my Satoru. I don’t care about your powers, I care about the person behind that. And that is still the same, isn’t it?”

“But I’m not—why would you? My powers are gone and you said it yourself, not even my looks can make up for it if I don’t keep my mouth shut but like that I have nothing going for me. Why would you even still be here?”

It’s not what he wants to say, because there is no universe out there where Satoru wants to point out his own flaws to Suguru, but he can’t help himself.

This entire situation doesn’t make any sense after all.

“I didn’t—Satoru, I didn’t mean that! I was just teasing you, fuck, I thought that was clear. You’re the most beautiful when you talk my ear off about something because you get all excited then and that makes you radiant. I never want you to shut up.”

There’s no hint of a lie on Suguru’s face and he isn’t the type for deceiving Satoru in that way anyway but it’s still hard for Satoru to believe.

“I’m only good for my techniques,” he whispers again. “If I can’t use them, then I have to be beautiful. Those are the only two things I have.”

“I fucking despise your family, just letting you know that,” Suguru seethes out and it almost makes Satoru laugh. “Here’s what I know about what makes my Satoru himself: he loves Digimon, he is the most unpunctual person in the world, he lives off sweets more than anything else, he hates zaru soba but goes to eat it anyway because I love it, he holds my hair when I have to throw up after swallowing a curse, he gets headaches after using his Six Eyes for too long and he loves it when I play with his hair. Did any of that change after you lost your powers?”

Satoru can only blink at him so Suguru carefully shakes him.

“Did any of that change, Satoru?” he demands to know again and Satoru finally manages to shake his head.

“No.”

“Then nothing you just said makes any sense because my Satoru is still right here,” Suguru tells him, the utmost conviction in his voice and to Satoru’s embarrassment he can feel tears spring to his eyes.

“I’m yours?” he breathes out because despite what Suguru just said that comes as a surprise to him.

He never dared to hope for that but the way Suguru’s cheeks go slightly red he might get lucky.

“If you want to be, yes,” Suguru shakily replies. “I always wanted you to be mine.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you,” Suguru simply says as if that isn’t turning Satoru’s entire world on its head and Satoru doesn’t think when he throws himself into Suguru’s arms.

“I do want to be yours,” he breathes out, “if you want to be mine in return.”

“Satoru, you dummy,” Suguru says and lightly scratches at Satoru’s neck, effectively making him melt into his embrace. “Of course I want to be. I thought my entire speech made that more than obvious.”

“You really don’t mind that I’m—like this?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, because to me you’re the same as you’ve always been,” Suguru gives back and Satoru presses his face into Suguru’s shoulder. “Besides,” Suguru then softly adds. “It’s only temporary. You’ll be back to being your regular powerhouse in no time and then I’ll be left wondering what you want with me.”

“I don’t care about how strong you are,” Satoru says and he knows he stepped into Suguru’s trap the moment the words leave his mouth.

“Then why would I care how strong you are?” he shoots right back and Satoru allows himself a small smile.

“No clue,” he admits and Suguru presses a kiss to his head.

“Exactly.”

It makes Satoru laugh because Suguru sounds so done but for once Satoru knows that it’s not because Suguru is done with him.

“Is that movie still on the table?” he dares to ask after a moment and Suguru sighs.

“If you promise to keep your inane chatter up during it then yes. Otherwise, we’ll have to have another serious talk.”

“I can chatter away, no problem,” Satoru quickly replies and he goes warm all over when he realises that Suguru was annoyed by the fact that he kept quiet before.

“Then we’ll be perfect,” Suguru says and Satoru dares to believe him.

[porcelainmortal]

Ok well I gotta go with 👀 lol

Thank you for the ask, Sara!!

In a surprise to absolutely no one, these ficlets took me so much longer than I planned. 😅 I hope it was worth the wait!! (It's slightly horny, fyi.)

👀 Skinny dipping in the sea

If someone had asked Alex what his perfect honeymoon would be, he would have said this. Even though a year ago, he didn’t even know this existed. Henry had been the one to suggest a totally private island, away from prying eyes or anyone to bother them. With the exception of a few staff who take a boat over once a day (a maid who tidies up and brings fresh towels and a chef who cooks them dinner), they are completely and utterly alone. Their security team has a villa on the main island and access to the 24-hour boat service, should the need arise. But otherwise, there is no way on or off this island.

It’s been another perfect day in paradise and the chef has gone back to the mainland. They’ve cleaned up from dinner and the sun is setting, throwing the most vibrant, gorgeous colors across the sky, and Alex is not about to fucking miss it.

“Come on, baby,” he says, pulling on Henry’s hand as he affectionately rolls his eyes and stands from his lounger. Henry wanted to finish his chapter of the book he was reading, but the sunset waits for no man. “Let’s enjoy it from the water.”

When they get to the beach, Henry pauses in his tracks. He looks down at himself, then at Alex, a sly smile taking over his face. He hooks his hands in the waistband of his swimsuit and shimmies it off, stepping out and taking Alex’s hand again. Alex takes the hint, pushing his shorts down as well and dragging Henry into the ocean.

Alex has skinny dipped a lot of places – Lake LBJ dozens of times, pools and hot tubs at houses and villas they’ve rented, and once, Nora’s grandparents’ pool in Vermont (but that’s a story for another time). But he’s never done it in open ocean and it feels fucking amazing. The salty water is smooth and refreshing against his skin and Henry’s palm is firm and centering in his. They wade out until they’re both in up to their chests and Alex scans the sky, watching the setting sun fling the most incredible colors across it. 

The warm oranges and pinks and purples make Henry’s skin glow when Alex glances over and sees Henry watching him.

“You’re not watching the sunset.”

“Am I not allowed to look where I want?”

“It’s only fucking romantic if we watch the sunset together, baby.”

“It is?” And with that, Henry tugs Alex closer, grabbing his butt as leverage to pull him up, forcing Alex’s legs to wrap around Henry’s waist as his arms come up around his neck. It leaves him a little breathless, the abruptness with which Henry can still surprise him and render him speechless. 

“Baby,” Alex groans, leaning in to kiss the grin off Henry’s face. It’s lazy and languid and deep and fucking everything and Alex wants to drown in Henry’s kiss, right here in this beautiful ocean. After several minutes or maybe hours, Alex pulls back, panting, and sees all the love he feels reflected back in Henry’s eyes. The intensity of his moment makes Alex shudder and he pulls Henry back to him again. “I love you,” he mumbles against Henry’s lips.

Henry tilts his head, mumbles, “I love you more” against Alex’s jaw.

“Lies,” Alex groans as Henry’s hands flex where they’re holding him and their hips start to move instinctively, seeking friction.

They rut together and Alex forgets about the sunset until Henry is licking along his collarbone and his head falls back. His eyes open for a moment and he gasps in wonder at the colors above him. 

“Henry, baby. Look.”

Henry removes his lips to look up, their bodies still moving together in perfect, practiced rhythm. 

“Beautiful,” Henry whispers. Alex’s eyes drop down to find Henry staring at him instead of the view. He has no words left, just noises of pleasure as their mouths slot back together once more. 

When Alex comes, it’s the reverent look on Henry’s face that lives inside his head. When he starts to come down, it’s the rainbow of colors painted across the sky that make this moment singular. When Henry’s eyes open after his own release, it’s the perfect blue that reminds Alex that he’s home, even in the middle of an ocean on the other side of the world. 

After the trip ends, they’ll tell people about this sunset. How vibrant it was, how breathtaking. But the moment they shared during it… that’s just for them.

Ficlet Friday Summer/Holiday Prompts

[livelaughlovekny]

Braiding Muichirou's hair

  His hair flew and splayed across his face for what must have been the fourteenth time in the past hour. The long locks clung onto his face, obscuring his vision, rendering him unable to see his opponent clearly. In this case, it was you.

  Unable to hold it back anymore, you laugh. His exasperated face and frustration towards his hair was too much for you. It was rare for him to express his emotions and thoughts, even then nothing much would change. Muichirou’s eyebrows dipped down ever so slightly and an irritated sigh escaped his lips as he struggled to tame his hair in the wild wind that kept blowing against it.

  “Honestly, how are you even alive, much less a Hashira, when your hair is constantly preventing you from fighting properly?” You laughed as you rummaged through your pockets. Muichirou gives you a flat look as he responds, “I encounter pathetic demons.” Noticing your actions, he asks “What are you doing? We’re training.”

  You fish out a hair tie. “I know but wouldn’t it be more productive if your hair was tied up instead of interrupting our training every other minute?” He stares at the hair tie for a moment before taking it. He pauses again and stares at the object. Muichirou looks back up at you. “How do you use this again?” 

  Used to this, you simply smile and take the hair tie without questioning how one could forget how to use such a simple object. Walking behind him, you’re suddenly struck with the realisation that you’re about to not only touch but also tie the great Mist Hashira’s hair. Oh my, the possibilities are endless. How would he look with pigtails? Surely his baby face would fit that hairstyle perfectly. “Hey, do you have any idea on what hairstyle you want?”

  Muichirou mused a little. “There’s more than one hairstyle…? I have no preference. Do whatever you want but make it quick.” Taking out another hair tie, you started your new mission.

  First, you had to separate his hair into six. You were a little apprehensive that you would have to spend a few minutes combing his hair and much to your surprise, his hair was as smooth as (as a baby’s butt) silk. How did this forgetful baby who trained so rigorously and constantly have hair you bet were smoother than Uzui’s? Entertaining the thought of informing the flashy Hashira his hair care was incomparable to Muichirou immediately ended when you thought of how he would most definitely question how you knew and throw a fit. It was not worth it, you would have to find another thing to poke fun at him.

  After making sure Muichirou’s hair was separated evenly into six, you moved onto braiding the first braid. Would a tight and thin braid suit him? Picturing the image in your head, you decided looser and thicker braids would suit him more; though not as thick as the Love Hashira’s. Carefully but efficiently braiding his hair, you did your best not to tug too hard to cause him pain. Though you were quite sure that that pain would only be considered as a fleeting feeling to him.

  Moving onto the next braid, you realise how close you are to seeing Muichirou with pigtails. The sudden rush of anticipation caused you to braid his hair much faster, though of course you ensured that it was as neat and perfect as its twin. After tying up the end of his second braid, you hurriedly took a few steps back to admire your masterpiece before rushing to look at the front view.

  He looked at you blankly yet somewhat expectantly.

  “Well? Are you done?”

  “Oh my gosh, you look adorable! Give me a twirl so I can see my masterpiece in action!” Seeing how unimpressed and slightly disgusted he looked, you corrected your last sentence. “I meant, move around so we know whether or not this hairstyle is functional.” Getting up, Muichirou picked up his sword and performed a forward slash and spun around. He paused and thought a little. “So what do you think? I think it looks cute, I mean, functional.”

  “...It feels heavy. Could we try other styles?” What. Did he just give you permission to (play) tie his hair again? You reigned in your excitement before responding. “Of course.” You fished out a few more hair ties. Muichirou studied your actions. “Why do you have so many…hair ties?”

  “I always lose them but that’s not important. Sit down, let’s get started.”

a/n: i feel so embarrassed. i never really promised/swore never to write fanfics again to myself (it's been more than a year since i wrote a fanfic) but this just so sudden and rushed. i might come back to this and polish it. still, thank you so much for reading my re-debut rushed drabble!

[princess-of-the-corner]

CC!Next Gen

Possible Himiko Kids

As always, all things are just ideas, which you can change, alter, or discard wholesale at your leisure.

(Note, I’m assuming Himiko wasn’t exactly ATTACHED to her family name, and has taken Tooru’s)

Kimiko Hagakure - first born. girl. Has Tooru’s rainbow hair. Made with Quirk. Parents Himiko (bio), Tooru (bio), Sato (adoptive dad). Tooru carried her.

Quirk: Mirage. Can utilize light refraction/manipulation to create illusions. They are the most effective from a distance, the closer you get, the more they seem to “haze” around the edges. Can create her own light. Could possibly, with practice, make the light solid (think Green Lantern), but her illusions wouldn’t have “realistic texture” even so.

Career: Wants to be a hero, but also wants to use her powers for performances/entertainment/special effects. 

Possible Hero Names: Mirage, Mirror Mirror, Opti-Kalli (Optical pun), Vision, In-Visional (invisible/vision pun), Oasis

*

Kenichi Sato - second born. Boy. IVF assisted pregnancy. Parents Himiko (bio), Tooru (adoptive), and Sato (bio). Looks like his mom, but has his dad’s build (or will, eventually).

Quirk: Blood Drinker (Name only final till someone suggests a better one). Can “power-up” like Sato does, but by drinking blood, needs to be at least a tea spoon’s worth for Quirk to activate. More blood drunk means more power, but power can exceed physical limits if you aren’t careful. Any blood will work and have the same effect, but human blood makes the power-up last longer. 

Career: Wants to be a “First Responder Hero”, similar to Back Up! (Adult Eri). As a result of his Quirk, his blood seems to be a sort of type O, but better - he can donate to anyone, his blood seems to change to match their type once donated. Basically, he wants to be an EMT Hero.

Possible Hero Names: Dracula, Mosquito (sibling nickname), Leech Lord, Bloody Maurice

*

Naomi Hagakure-Sato - “middle” kid. Adopted. Was accused of having a “villain’s Quirk” by her parents, who didn’t like Naomi using her Quirk, and would “punish” her for using it. Managed to catch Himiko after she took down a villain in the area, and asked if she could be a hero with a “villain’s Quirk”. She was adopted by the family less than a month later. Naomi was 6 at the time.

Quirk: Imitation. User can shift their body to appear as other things, animals, people, or inanimate objects. However, it isn’t “true shape-shifting” like Himiko does. Naomi can’t copy someone’s DNA, she merely changes herself to the closest visual approximation. It is also limited by what Naomi knows and can see about a thing - if someone has a birthmark, but Naomi doesn’t know about it, she won’t know to shift one, and unless she’s seen it, the mark won’t look exact. All of her shifts revert if she’s rendered unconscious … for the most part (Will explain below).

Looks: Because of her shifting abilities, Naomi often changes her own appearance, usually small tweaks to make herself more comfortable. She was born with black hair, grey-green eyes, and a bit of a tan, but often shifts to have Himiko’s hair and Tooru’s eyes. She also usually has a tail. Her favourite animals are cats, almost to the point of obsession, and when she gets to high school, the tail stays, even when knocked out. At that point, she’s had the tail so long, no one knows whether it’s a Quirk mutation, or if she’s shifted it so much it’s subconscious. Also enjoys having cat ears, claws, fangs, and slit pupils.

Career: Hero or bust. 

Possible Hero names: literally only have one, the Flattery Hero- Dupli-Cat! (Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Duplicate pun on the fact she LOVES cats.)

-

I LOVE THEM ACTUALLY

[lilacsareinbloomagain]

Yandere wind headcannon or Yandere legend please

How about some yandere legend headcannons please

Alright, alright! You got it, buddy! Thank you for requesting :]

Notes: Platonic!Wind and romantic!Legend separate.

"&" means platonic relationship. Yes, AO3 is influencing me.

I'll probably bring more Headcannons in the future but that's all I have for now.

I'm against using the dots but these are headcannons.

TWs: Yanderism, mentions of needles (sewing needles), mentions of swimming and bodies of water.

LU!Wind & Reader || LU!Legend x Reader

Yandere Legend Headcannons

It's not a surprise to say that Legend didn't like nor trust you when you first met. It took a while, and I mean a while for him to start being less mean to you, like, at least a few months.

After that he was still mean, but more so in a teasingly way, like how he is with the others but worse.

Because of the sheer amount of time it took for him to trust you, it may have been a bit upsetting for you to see how he treated you differently to the others.

You see, Legend doesn't like to be open about who he likes, he is a prideful man and also very cautious. He felt like you were a weak spot to him, and if that information went into the wrong hands you would be in danger just as much as his sanity currently was.

Either way, Legend isn't good at acknowledging the strength of his words, so of course, you naturally wanted to distance yourself from him.

However, something kept you from distancing yourself. While Legend may be sharp and hurtful when it came to his words, his actions were quite the opposite. Legend acted like an absolute simp when it came to you.

The other would tease him a lot regarding that, it was really funny watching these situations, it almost made all the hurt from his words worth it.

Legend would be angrily yelling at a laughing Four who just called him out on his bullshit all the while not stopping his fingers from knitting gloves for you after he heard you complain about feeling cold at night.

Ah yes there's also that, I feel like Legend likes knitting, sewing too, but knitting mostly since you really seem to like the pieces he knit.

Legend has anxiety after everything he went through, he's paranoid even when the team is somewhere safe. It gets almost impossible to fall asleep when he can't stop shaking his leg or scratching his arm, his mind also refuses to shut up, sleepless nights rendered him useless both physically and mentally since he just didn't get any rest, spending the whole night twisting and turning in his bed roll.

He needed something to relieve his anxiety and calm his nerves while also being a way he wasn't wasting time. Sewing was useful for repairing his and the other's clothes, now knitting? He had never heard of knitting before.

That was, before the day he decided to buy a needle and a ball of green wool thread out of curiosity.

You two were inside a small shop of arts and crafts together, he was looking to just buy the sewing stuff he needed and leave. When he turned around to call for you though, you were looking around in awe at things you were interested in on the shelves of the shop, you mentioned something about finding knit pieces cute, that was all it needed to make him buy these things with the purpose of mastering doing it.

Of course, before leaving he also made sure to buy all the things you said you liked in the shop.

He ended up really liking knitting, making errors was stressful and it took a long time for him to learn the skill, but, at least the needles weren't sharp like the sewing ones, which meant he didn't hurt himself. His hand did end up sore, but they were already calloused so it didn't hurt as much, and he preferred that pain a lot more than staying up all night every night. The gratitude on your face when he gifted you his first perfected piece, the green socks, made it all worth it.

Legend likes to keep you around his line of sight 24/7, not seeing you makes him 20 times more paranoid, the others bent to his will easily after noticing how bad he could get, keeping you in the same space he was just tuned out easier for everyone.

Since Legend won't allow himself to be vocal about how much he loves you, when you guys spend time together which is basically always and he doesn't feel the need to act mean he will just be silent. It's not rare for him to sit close to you and lean on you during those moments, he tries to not initiate touches but it is hard for him to keep himself from at least doing this.

He adores when you initiate physical touch though, and you did so a lot after discovering that it is easy to use that.

Anything could be happening, your mere touch, a brush of your skin, anything you do can make him just freeze. After getting a hold of you it is hard for him to let you go, he will hesitate before remembering why he needed to keep his liking towards you a secret in the first place.

So yeah, he can melt just from physical touch, don't hug or cuddle with him close to other people, those actions can make him almost cry so it would be quite embarrassing.

Links may seem different but they are still reincarnation of the same person.

That's why kisses can make him flustered like Sky.

Really, when all of this is done and his enemies are gone, if you choose to just live the rest of your lives together, he'll definitely become just as gentle as Sky.

He wouldn't give up his friendly teasing though, that's his charm.

He is soft inside but he isn't known as the veteran for nothing, the world has turned him into what he is now and the dangers that made him into the person he is today are still around.

His protectiveness comes from that, his main objective became making sure you'll stay safe, he doesn't want you to be hurt like he was, he doesn't want you to change. He'll gladly take the pain of the both of you for your sake.

Also, Legend has a lot of trinkets and jewelry.

You're in luck if you like those things, he'll give them to you no matter whether you accept them or not.

He'll feel very proud of himself if he saw you using his jewelry as well.

You may be shocked seeing him just part with his prized possessions like that, but in his mind it is simple.

After all of this is done, you will end up with him, whether you like it or not so if you'll marry in the future you're basically already married. If you're married, his things are yours just as yours are his, so you using his things is just like him using them himself.

Also, you don't have many possessions, so the least you can give to him is yourself, isn't that right?

Platonic Yandere Wind Headcannons

Whether you like children or not didn't matter, it didn't take long for you to become attached to him.

Wind is a typical teenager, even if he acts more like a child sometimes.

He likes teasing but he isn't as mean as Legend, mostly just the normal playful teasing everyone in the chain is used to, including you.

I see wind as a distracted teen whenever he isn't in combat. Like the person who makes stupid questions and annoying remarks that most of the time aren't supposed to actually be annoying or stupid, most of the time he just doesn't pay attention and needs to just make sure he actually heard what you guys said.

Wind is used to being the older brother, so when you decided to be his older sibling he was unaccustomed.

He more than welcomed the attention and affection though, it's been a while since he got it. All in all he is probably the Link who most needs it anyway.

When you're not the one actively making the effort to spend time with him he is the one doing it.

You know how to swim? Great, he will bring you swimming with him.

You don't know how to swim? Congratulations you have just got yourself a very invested teacher.

You're afraid of swimming or of the place where he swims? He will insist you come just to sit close to the body of water he's in. By the end of the day he has a pile of things he found while he was swimming (trinkets, rocks and seashells), prepare your pockets because you're the one leaving with them.

He's a chatterbox, and will talk your ear off about his adventures, the sea and his life before that, like the island he's from, his small family… Anything and everything really.

Like I mentioned a while ago, before he left the island, washing the dishes used to be his chore. Now when you wash the dishes to help Wild there's a big chance of him being there to help you. Helping may also mean chatting with you while doing nothing though, there are always two possibilities and the outcome depends only on how interested in washing dishes he is that day.

I feel like Wind is more inclined to sabotaging any type of relationship you may have with other people, he probably doesn't mind The Chain wanting you romantically or anything as long as he deems said Link as deserving of you, differently to other people the team are always together so he can easily get to you anytime he wants. He just doesn't want his time with you to be interrupted.

He's loud, when he's talking about something he likes he starts talking even louder without noticing.

Please call him to work on something together, things like making necklaces with the seashells he finds will channel his attention which will result in him being silent for longer.

Despite being a normal teenager pretty much, Wind has a longer attention span. At least, with things he likes to do, and with that I mean hands-on activities. He will ignore any attempts of reading, may even throw a tantrum.

He is not against the idea of fully throwing himself against you anytime he wants your attention and you won't give it to him.

Wind is a growing teenager, and he spends a lot of time with you. Don't be surprised when he starts picking up little bits of your personality, likes, mannerisms, habits and even your way of speaking. Most of these will happen without him or you noticing, it is funny when The Chain just sees you making some sort of pose and him just doing the exact same pose for no reason.

Wind would be a son of Poseidon, do tell him that, he'll love hearing you talk about it. He loves the mythology from our world, no matter which mythology you tell him about.

Expect him to do things for you as well, he may make it seem like he doesn't want to do it, but even if you ask him to bring you the heart of Gannon or something he'll eventually bring it to you.

Wind may act reckless sometimes too many times, but then again he is a child. He'll act like he doesn't like it, but he loves when you treat him his age. Wind had to take way too many responsibilities in a much too young age and the fact you still treat him the way he is supposed to be treated despite his hero title will make him cling to you like his life depends on it.

Different from Legend Wind doesn't mind you being away from him as long as you're there the moment he wants your attention. In fact, he'll be the first to tell everyone to leave you in the camp when they're fighting monsters.

You know how siblings are fighting all the time and make fun of each other but still get mad whenever someone else does it? That's Wind, he will get funny annoyed expressions when other Links try to tease you, he's constantly at war with Legend.

As much as he doesn't mind if you have a relationship with the rest of The Chain he'll playfully tease you guys.

If he sees you're uncomfortable (and trust me, he can tell) he'll immediately do a 180° and become very protective, he'll defend you with tooth and nail from anyone, even the golden goddesses herselves.

And he's a gremlin, too, so if physically he can't do harm he'll turn said person's life into hell.

And once again, everything he asks of you in return to what he does is your attention, 200% of it.

[ca-8]

Hey there! I hope you have a good day. I was wondering if you could try something with yandere Albedo from Ben 10 (Alien force or Omniverse) with a darling that dosen't let him touch her to much and dosen't talk to much just..observes him and he need to move casual or slow not to alert her (like a cat 🐱) When after like one week after he took her she starts to sleep more and like she seek for his warmth and cuddles and after searching on the net he realizes that its her period. Just lots of fluff if possible..?

❝𝐀𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭❞ (Albedo x Fem!Reader)

【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★

Summary: Albedo learns about and how to ease his favorite human's natural and sudden change in behavior...

Word count: 3,014 words

【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★【☆】【☆】★

Perfection and humanity do not mix. Not in the slightest.

If you were to go out and attempt to enjoy Earth's decent (yet drastically faltering) biosphere, you'd see it in an instant: their youngs' deafening shrills, how disgusting, grease-congested excuses they call food dribble down their mouths in vile sludges, the way heat coats their bodies with slimy repulsive filth - there is so much more, but it'd take a lifetime to list every flaw. Every revolting flaw that Albedo now must accompany and submit to, with his new cursed self and these good-for-nothing humans.

Every human, except for her.

She defies all logic, every ounce of understand, every minuscule of reasoning that has been deduced from the first sight upon mankind. Her existence should be impossible, and yet this dream treads upon a wretched nightmare with utter grace! Perfection under human skin; a glimmer of hope among her own, and naturally, their incompetence blinds them from such radiance.

And she knows it. How she rejects acknowledging the inferior, only valiantly conversing with them if she must, refusing to spend so much of her time with those lesser trash and abiding loneliness! Bewitching and intelligent - truly a specimen worth studying.

Finally, this cursed disguise could prove useful. During the early stages of study, Albedo blended in with crowds of humans to get close enough to observe more of the subject's behavior. This provided plenty of vital information: her favorite place to consume food, where she lies to sleep at night, which human she thinks is more tolerant and worthy of her time (although, to be quite frank, none of her choices could ever hope to be worthy enough to be in her presence, but unfortunately, she must make do with what's around).

However, whilst undergoing live research, he also learned that she is much more perspective than any other specimen of her kind. Following her on the way to a clothing store, he kept a certain distance and blended underneath the blanket of shadows. Yet, as he hid behind the corner once she hinted a turn, a voice resembling the beauty of a racing comet rang out, "So how long are you gonna keep stalking me?"

Albedo had heard it a few times in the past, but not so clear, not so close, not so precisely for him. That was when the experiment took a turn, when he realized this one human had the ability to render his new body utterly weak. Something raged beneath his chest, just begging to burst, his legs twitched and lurched so instantaneously, his skin had become drenched in that dripping filth, all from just a sentence! Was his subject cursed? Was she even human?

He had to take her in. That was the only way for him to find out why her simple actions targeted his weak points so easily. Luckily, his studies on human behavior have taught him well.

"I do not know what you mean. I am simply on a stroll that happens to coincide with your path to the clothing store, which is also my destination, as I too need clothes," he explained effortlessly, stepping out from his hiding place. "Although since we are already conversing, we should take the opportunity to proceed forth together and acquire knowledge of each other's history. I will start with my name; I am Albedo. And now for you to enlighten me with yours, as I do not know." Of course, he already knew her name, from when a food provider called it out along with her order at a consumption spot a few days ago. Hearing it in her voice just sounded like a good idea at the time.

But he got an even greater reward: the sound of her laughter. It wasn't obnoxious or didn't make him feel as if his ears were being grated from the inside out, but more like the sun's warmth as it peaked out from a group of clouds.

"Damn, you're weird," she finally said after calming down. "Alright, I'll bite. My name's (Y/n)." And with a brief invite, he was with her at last.

Though he's been by her side for a few weeks, Albedo quickly found out that she was one of the quietest humans he's ever met. Every time he'd invite her out, it's like he'd might as well be talking to himself (maybe because stories of his excellency and extraordinary achievements were so fascinating, she didn't know how to respond?) He kept his questions as vague as possible, but they should have elicited a little more detailed response:

"How would you describe your fellow man?"

"Obnoxious."

"Hm. Would you say you feel disconnected from humanity? As you are not really 'one of them', so to speak?"

"Perhaps."

"Uh-huh. And have you thought of earth as your true place of establishment?"

"...I don't think we're ready to know this kind of stuff about each other, especially on a dinner date. People are starting to stare." When she giggled again, he only wanted to ask more questions.

So, if he were to dig deeper with his subject, he must go farther with their relationship! Fortunately, he knew exactly what to do!

Unfortunately, it seems that the courage to act on those plans vanished the moment she appeared in his view.

Gifts and amorous letters had to be sent anonymously, subtle moves on getting close were kept to a minimum (mostly after she told him that she was quite sensitive to others touching her), and attempts at complimenting her outer appearance were much more...intricate than initially arranged. The only plan that went perfectly was researching unfavorable behavior on everyone (Y/n) came into contact with, then brilliantly relay this Information so she wouldn't possess any desire to interact with them any further.

Each time someone else tried stepping into the picture, he'd become, let's say, assertive with his disapproval (luck truly loves to aid, (Y/n) wasn't close enough to anyone else to even notice how they'd suddenly disappear under the radar). Oddly enough, the more someone else came along, the more Albedo felt to have his own objective known.

For example, when they were watching a human entertainment system (television, as they'd call it), and something kept thumping within his chest the more he looked at (Y/n) - and when he caught her sneaking glances at him. "(Y/n)," he said, trying to calm his bouncing leg. "I find it odd how humans can make other humans feel so...warm."

In the corner of his eye, she smiled, but said nothing in response.

She was always distant in that regard, and though he found it a little strange from what he's seen of other humans, it was also comforting. A breath of fresh air, one might say. He wasn't all too keen with other humans coming into close contact with him either, so while they kept themselves at a silent distance, their comfort in each other's presence spoke volumes.

(Y/n) confirmed it herself: "I've been thinking about us being more than friends. It.. sounds nice..." she confessed the day they were gazing up into the night sky.

Albedo looked back at her, and on his negative Ben's mask, a smile appeared. "The thought does seem pleasant."

Afterward, her hand reached closer to his until they touched, and he gained the courage to lay his on top of hers. So much noise within him pounded with enamored fury, so much heat overtook his body, but he didn't feel confused or anxious. In fact, in an indescribable, unspoken conclusion, everything made sense.

Until it happened.

Albedo found (Y/n)'s distance charming. Her presence wasn't overwhelming, but reassuring; just one look, and she'll be right there, letting his content flowing mind slow to an ease.

But this was altogether different, something he was far from ready for.

It all started when he was simply resting at his desk, researching the young man who caused him to become one with his cursed form. In the corner of his computer, he could've sworn there was a reflection of (Y/n) dragging herself from the doorway and right toward him, at a rather dawdling pace. Albedo turned around and proved his suspicions correct.

"Darling? You're usually asleep at this hour," he observed. "Has something troubled you?"

She didn't say anything and only neared with a sluggish trudge. When she finally reached him, it was as if her body suddenly limped, and she flopped on him in an embrace.

Albedo's body stiffened and shuddered. Her warmth from the times before were more than enough, but this - nothing could have prepared him for something so, well, positively overwhelming. "Dear-? What, what has gotten into you??"

(Y/n), whilst hanging onto his neck, looked up at him, and her lips were curled in a pitifully endearing pout. "Come back to bed..." she mumbled.

"I-I'd love to, but this really is not the time-"

She ignored him and flung the other arm around his neck, and her lips moved closer to his skin. Feeling her breath latch onto his collarbone, he held his breath, and finally, his trembling hands lifted onto her back. And the moment her sweet voice had begun whimpering softly, he submitted.

"A-Alright! I'll come back!"

She still hadn't moved.

"...And I presume I'll be carrying you too."

That was only the start of this strange behavior. Even at a thought of moving to a different room, (Y/n) would complain and try to keep him affix to the mattress. The way she'd cling to him, with her body sticking to one half of his and her arms clasped around his other, he thought he'd might overheat - the rare times he'd get to see his human face, it'd be covered with such an unnatural cardinal! (Humans cannot melt, correct? There's no record in human history that an occurrence has transpired from merely the inside of their bodies' intensity, so it must be impossible! It must!)

Furthermore, their food stock had been lower than usual. Every time he'd approach their refrigerator device for his preserved preferred meal, approximately 30 percent of its contents had gone missing. Not that he cared so much, for he only tolerates the oddly decently-made chili fries (Only because of this hexed DNA, of course), but this was surely something he'd keep in mind.

And to top it all off, (Y/n)'s strong reluctance to do anything else but lie in bed with him glued to her...

Although... Albedo has concurred that while her new behavior is a stark contrast to her old manners, he can't say the experience has been particularly adverse. In fact, her new need for him to be constantly by her side, his hands softly roaming from her back and down to the front of her waist. How she purred whenever he gently stroked the right spots, how her hands clung onto his clothing, and that peaceful exhausted look on her face...

In short, he was certainly not complaining. Still, there must be some sort of explanation, it's not like the sudden change just came out of nowhere... had it?

"(Y/n), sweetheart?" Albedo began, still not used to those common human pet names.

"Hm?" she groaned in response, snuggling deeper into his chest. He was immensely thankful she hadn't complained about his thundering heartbeat, because he has no idea how to make it stop, as much as he hates to admit.

"I-I'm enjoying this, uh...current shift in dependence; your realization of that no other human can be as worthy in giving solace as I couldn't have come at a later time; however... Uh... I will admit, I am a little curious to how...a-abrupt this entire situation became..."

Silence. Albedo tensed up - had he upset her? "I-I-I'm sorry if this-!"

He looked down. She had fallen asleep.

"Oh." That was it, she was clearly not capable in giving an explanation int he state she was in. So, he had to resort into participating in one of which he excels at. "Research! That's it, I must commit to humanity's technology and discover what has made my darling convert into lethargy!"

"Please be quiet..." (Y/n) whimpered, tightening her grip on his shirt.

Albedo gazed down at her and, petting her head gently, allowed himself to smile. 'After she indulges herself in my presence once more.'

Thankfully, it didn't take time for her let go and roll over in her sleep. She'll likely ask for him back in a little while, but he had to be quick. After all, darker thoughts had begun to swarm his mind when he jumped in front of his computer.

"Her face has had a consistent warmth, is that any cause for worry?" he mumbled, typing away on the keyboard. "This shift has persisted for about four days now. Does that mean it's a prolonged sickness?" His heart began hammering away again, but it was not from pleasure, but a heavy grief he was not ready to become affiliated with.

The screen was loading. His leg began to twitch and bounce, and no matter how much force he put upon it, it simply refused to calm.

And then at last, the answers popped up before him.

...."Menstruation?" he echoed the screen. Albedo leaned closer and his eyes roamed the page. "'The process in a woman of discharging blood and other materials from the lining of the uterus at intervals of about one lunar month from puberty'... What...?"

He typed in 'symptoms', and the list practically matched. "Mood swings, trouble sleeping....huh, so that's why her face recently became endowed with those spots..." And from then on, he spent the next thirty minutes educating himself in the ways of the female-born sex.

"This perfectly explains why she's so reluctant in getting out of bed, and why our food supply has taken a toll... Fascinating!" He was impressed by some quirks of the human body, but one fact has confirmed his need to be concerned. "This whole process is equipped with pain and discomfort... Must be troublesome."

The thought of the only human he cared for going through such an exhausting time, it brought a sharp pang of a different kind of agony. "And she latched onto me for comfort..."

Albedo scanned the screen one last time, turned off the computer, and headed back to his sleeping beauty.

(Y/n) woke up to find him gone again. She rose from the bed and wrapped the blankets around her, then forced herself to exit the room.

The smell of (f/f) hit her so suddenly, it almost knocked her over. And even if it did, she would've hauled right back up and ran straight toward wherever it came from (if she didn't feel like her insides were being pulled and stabbed by mother nature's demons). Instead, she walked as quick as she could, following the scent.

"Good morning, my dear!" Albedo's voice sprang her right up. That, and maybe the spread of her favorite food all over the kitchen counter.

"What's all this?" she asked, her eyes moving back and forth from her boyfriend and to the food.

"Firstly, I'm well relieved you are feeling better," he said, walking towards her and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Yesterday, I started looking into your condition and what I can do to soothe your aching torment."

(Y/n) stifled her laugh at 'aching torment.' 'Well, he's not too far off,' she thought, thinking back to the last couple of days.

"Therefore," Albedo continued, "I've decided that you deserve an entire day of yours truly pampering you to your heart's content! After this, you won't seek any other ailment, for there is none better."

(Y/n) grinned. "Okay, and what do you have planned for me, Mr. Ailment?"

"A marvelous question. First, I have gathered your favorite nourishments to ease your cravings. Second, over there on that table is a stack of movies I know is to your liking," he explained, pointing to the coffee table where there was indeed a neat stack of (Y/n)'s favorite movies. "And third, I shall put my studies and projects on hiatus..." He moved in closer, almost letting their foreheads touch. "For there is no place I'd rather be than here, with you, (Y/n)."

She let her stiff muscles relax and little. Her cheeks were already getting sore from the beam lighting up her face. "Someone's determined on getting mushy today," she said, then pushed her head into his chest. "And I think it suits you."

Above her, Albedo smiled warmly down at her, and lead her to the couch. (Y/n) plopped down on his lap and swung her legs over his own, then reached to hold his face. Her thumbs slowly caressed those cherry cheeks, and she couldn't stop herself from reaching his lips. Like every other time, Albedo let out an adorable squeak as their lips collided, and his hands gripped onto her waist her brought her closer to him as she hummed approvingly. The air was quiet, their hearts raucously rejoiced in sync, and their touch felt warmer than a patch of flowers bathing in springtime's sun. (Y/n) released him for just a second, but he hadn't finished relishing her - immediately, he drifted back into another kiss, as if he was ill and his ailment was her affection.

In a way, it was. She was humanity's perfection in his eyes: her alluring scent, her soft inviting lips, the way she laughed and spoke, her relieving nature, everything about her was his cure to his disgust towards this planet and its contents.

Finally, they departed. (Y/n) giggled at the webs of saliva that still connected them. "If this how it's gonna be every time I'm on my period, I guess I won't be dreading it anymore," she said.

Albedo chuckled for the first time in a while and gently pushed her head into the crook of her neck whilst combing through her hair. "That won't be necessary anymore, dearest."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this latest one shot, because I sure diiiid!!~ I apologize for how late this arrived, things on my end have been terribly busy lately, but I thank you so much for your patience, @lonely13ghost !

Next, I SHOULD be posting the beginning of the BOTW partner scenarios... it has been far too long!!!

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Karma. "The World is Hooked on Kate" - Daniela Elser by u/Von_und_zu_

Karma. "The World is Hooked on Kate" - Daniela Elser Good job Megsy and hateful minions! You have become denizens of the sewer and all your nasty plotting and machinations have propelled Catherine to the position you desired most. Hoisted by your own petard. Waaaugh.The Kate Middleton, Princess of Wales takeover is here.I’ve had a busy morning with the calculator and can tell you that the three videos released by Kensington Palace of the princess this year have hit more than 165.8 million views.Her reappearance on Sunday for the mens’ finals at Wimbledon, only the second time the princess has been seen in public this year, offers us some cold hard proof of this, with the outing triggering a wild response on social media. 41 million – that’s the number of times that the videos of Kate at the tournament shared by the official Wimbledon and Kensington Palace Instagram accounts have been viewed. Add in the numbers from X, formerly Twitter, and the total across both platforms and both accounts is just shy of 50 million views. Now sure, these are not so stratospheric that they would force Kris Jenne to defy the powers of her filler-ed forehead to raise even a single, cursory eyebrow of approval but what they point to is Kate going global in a way that she never has before.\*\**Kate was dumped as one of the front row players in the biggest soap opera in the world. Post Megxit, the Sussexes’ eagerness to ventilate their feelings – and the events that had transpired behind palace gates – brought Kate to life in a way, fleshing her out as an actual person, taking her from being something of a very pretty sphinx to rendering her in colour in a way she had never been before.\***Posed perfection was replaced with realness and, courtesy of the Sussexes’ revelations, her being freighted with a cultural resonance and weight she had not previously. In 2021, her launch of The Royal Foundation Centre for Early Childhood started to add real substance to her image and public standing too. And then came 2024 with a great crashing, cacophonic bang. The first few months of this year were wholly consumed by the utter fruit loopy Kategate madness, the princess suddenly becoming the 21st century’s answer Ameilia Earhart. The Wales'’ Adelaide Cottage became social media’s grassy knoll as much of the world underwent some sort of deserves to be studied collective hallucinatory experience. Then with the revelation that Kate has cancer, a moment that demanded even more vehement synonyms than ‘shocking’ being hauled out, the princess took on a certain tragic- yet-brilliantly-brave, heroic quality.****Like her late mother-in-law Diana, Princess of Wales, she has morphed over the years from liked in the UK and Commonwealth, to adored in the UK and Commonwealth, to global celebrity, to mythical figure. Which, I reckon, is how we land at than Kate videos being viewed more 223 million times in 2024 so far. (That is, across official royal and Wimbledon accounts, across X and Instagram and of her cancer announcement, Trooping outing and appearance at the tennis. And it’s worth pointing out here we have not even factored in numbers from TikTok, where Kate and royal content is rife, because none of the royal offices have accounts on the platform.) 223 million times. That number does not speak to cursory interest or mild curiosity but the Princess of Wales having become an object of pervasive, global fascination to an unprecedented degree. 223 times. The world is indisputably hooked on Kate.Eat your heart out Megs.https://archive.ph/WoLGp​ post link: https://ift.tt/TVPIGEg author: Von_und_zu_ submitted: July 17, 2024 at 12:42PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[cerealboxlore]

My Captain Marvel AU Designs Timeline

Some of y'all may know that I attempt to draw fan art from time to time, and that I love the idea of Billy Batson not needing an adult form when he's Captain Marvel. Why? I just think Billy is neat and that he deserves more of the spotlight :3

Also the idea of a tiny super-powered child on the same level as Super-man being part of the Justice Leage just gives me life

My first attempts to draw this idea were alright, although, I didn't have much of creative side to costume designing. Just a simple hoodie with a cape attached to it, simple red, white, and gold costume like the original Captain Marvel design. Not my best work, but a temporary one until I figured something out.

Now my SECOND attempt to make an original costume design for AU Captain Marvel came out a little better. I researched some other DC costumes and took inspiration from them, especially the batfamily. Mainly because the fic "From The Shadows" by @wolfsbanesparks gave me the idea of an AU where Billy became a part of the batfamily, and I tried making a costume that resembled theirs in a way.

Turned out a bit different in the end, but I was making progress!

Now my third and most recent attempt, I got it. I initially had it in my head that since a super-powered Billy would have a different costume design than his alter ego, Captain Marvel, but, I forgot that Billy IS and will always be Captain Marvel, so the costume designs didn't have to be different. Some slight changes, yes, but Billy is still the same person in this AU.

I went back and watched the Justice League animated series episode, "The Clash", and the comic book, "Shazam: The Monster Soceity of Evil", taking more inspiration from his costume then, along with some added in inspiration from the batfam's costumes. Keeping a costume simple but true to the character was the most important 👌

And I did it! The result I got in the end was worth it! I also learned some rendering in the process.

(I didn't master rendering, I'm still learning how to do it).

I had a lot of fun trying to find a design for Billy, and I'm glad it paid it off in the end with something I'm satisfied with!

Let me know what y'all think! I'd also love to see y'all's Billy and Captain Marvel drawings and designs!

[ovwechoes]

Games in the Shadows: Sombra (Evil) x Reader (GN)

Thank you for the request anon ! I enjoyed working on this, and I've left it under the cut since it's a bit lengthy. My asks are open, and any opinions/suggestions are welcome c: Themes: blood, physical aggression, SFW/no sexual content, villain AU.

It was a night just like any other. You were working late for a cybersecurity company that outsourced its workers on a temporary basis. You were fortunate enough to have a 6 month contract with them, but you never realised the extent of their work. You had spent countless nights working late, stuck at your computer and trying to catch up with what was left on your plate from your co-workers. It wasn't something that bothered you though; the silence in the office, the lights of the street across from the windows, the tranquillity you felt in your isolation were enough to justify the long nights. And so you kept working head on, adamant to leave the office by 3am at the most. But the more you worked, the more you realised just how much was left to complete. It was going to be a draining night, and you were unprepared for what was going to come next.

1am finally rolled around; you were left with mental fog, and decided to step away from your setup for a moment and get something to eat. One of the benefits of this company was that all meals were paid for, and you could eat whenever you wanted. You chose a comfort dish to help you energise for the next lap of work you were faced with, and let it cook in the microwave while you scrolled social media. You found yourself doomscrolling news outlets discussing a vigilante raiding online spaces, creating havoc and chaos wherever they explored online, all behind a faceless icon and name. The news were eating their actions up, and you couldn't help but be drawn by the way they discussed them. Their name was S, thats all they left as a calling card. No one could access their information, and the public were left blind as to what was being done to stop them. Recently, S had arranged attacks on airports, rendering their systems useless and grounding any planes that were planning to take off. Aircraft and travel companies lost millions, and they was determined to be behind it. You were somewhat impressed, but knew cyber companies, like yours, were on their hitlist. It was bound to happen, but at least you knew as much as you could about them now.

The microwave clicked, rang it's usual bell to tell you it was finished, and you quickly put your phone away to enjoy this dish. You brought it back to your desk in an effort to not waste more time than was necessary. And as you enjoy yourself, the warm feeling filling your heart and stomach as you ate each bite carefully, that's when you noticed it. A small notification in the right hand corner of your screen; anyone could've missed it, but it seemed to linger on your screen with no ability to close it or see where it came from.

"That looks good, are you enjoying yourself?" The notification said, leaving you confused and dazed. You couldn't find the origin of it, and there was no trace of a hack on you. What was this? Your mind filled itself with ideas as you let your dish slowly get cold. You saw it swiftly disappear, before another took it's place.

"You're a smart one. How about we put that brain to use and play a game? I'll make it worth your while - S". How could it be them? Who was S? You knew companies like yours were bound to be hit, but this soon? Right after you watched those videos? Something didn't feel right, and the impending doom that was filling your chest was only growing as the seconds passed by. Your mind flashed with possibilities, endlessly counting over the ideas of what this 'game' could be. You had no choice but to accept, out of sheer confusion and curiosity. You didn't want to lose everything, and give up in fear of what S may do to retaliate.

You were left with no choice, and you said under your breath "I'll have to won't I? What are you planning?". Your tone was sharp, and filled with embarrassment. There was no one else there with you in the office, and yet you still felt silly speaking to yourself. What would people think if they looked back on the security footage and saw you doing this? It was shameful, but you didn't know how else to tell S that you agreed with their game.

The notification left again, and after a minute or so passed, another took it's place, but this time it was at the centre of your screen. It was much bigger, with the background of the text box being purple now instead of the default theme. "Would you rather keep the lights on or the heating on?" You were confused, what did this mean? It felt like you were being left out of key information, and it was killing you alive. You sat quietly, considering your options. What would cause the least amount of fallout, and what choice could you live with yourself choosing? Everything with S had a deeper meaning, you assumed, and you went with your gut and chose heating. Lights are easily replaced with flashlights and the sun that would rise again in the morning. She couldn't stop them, but you knew heating was one of the biggest needs for humans. You uttered the choice you made, as though you were scared of the outcome. And that's when it happened.

You instantly noticed the lights that danced on your skin through the window across your desk were flickering at first. They were fighting back what was happening to them, and you were left in a terrified state as you watched street lights, home lights, dim lights left around the office all turn off, one after another. A complete blackout. All that was left was your computer. And suddenly, everything felt... hotter. As though the heating was turned up instantly. You could feel sweat pushing itself through your clothes quickly, as you felt you were being boiled alive, cemented to your chair. Your hair was quickly damp, and your breathing laboured. You were felt feeling overwhelmed, sticky, and as though you were suffocating on the humid air surrounding you. Your eyes watered, and you tried to focus as you heard noises across the office.

You darted your gaze around, trying desperately to see what's going on, if someone was there, before a new notification appeared on your computer with a chime this time attached to get your attention. You couldn't think properly, and you wondered whether everyone in the area was going through this too, or just you? You didn't know, but you couldn't focus on that right now, only how to stop this. Your computer was rendered useless the minute you agreed to the game - you couldn't counter the attacks, access internet connection, trace back the breach, or do anything with your mouse and keyboard. Your computer was now just a monitor, being used by S to torture you and subject you to their cruelty. The notification began to repeatedly chime, bringing you back to reality from your imagination and thoughts. You slowly read what the next prompt was, and you were left horrified.

"Would you rather be attacked physically or digitally?" You had an inkling as to what this would mean, as though your intuition was working overtime to predict the possibilities. You knew if you chose digitally, then the attacks would be harsh on the area, and understood what would happen if you chose physically. You had to decide whether to hurt yourself, or everyone around you. It was a decision that weighed heavily on your conscience, and the more the notification chimed, the more overwhelmed you became. You knew what you had to do, and needed to find the strength deep down to accept your fate. All that was left to utter the word 'physical' and you'd meet face to face with your demise.

And so you did exactly that - you let the word fall from your lips, in hopes that your end would be quick and painless. You felt as though God himself wasn't able to help you anymore; your once peaceful isolation was filled with paranoia, fear and anxiety. All you could do was stay frozen in your chair, watching as your computer screen accepted your answer, followed by a new screen that showed S' infamous calling card. A hacker symbol, as though it was her graffiti tag, was placed front and centre of your computer. You were hopeless, and were left stunned as you heard footsteps grow louder, closer. Your heart raced, and your mind panicked at the possibilities of what could be coming. Was it a group? Were they going to shoot you, batter you, abuse you? The uncertainty was killing you, and it made your soul shake within itself.

That's when you heard it clearly, whoever was here was behind you, and you couldn't bring yourself to turn around and face your abuse front and centre. You closed your eyes, and tried to calm the racing heart that was pounding against your ribcage. You felt as though you were going to die from a heart attack or heat stroke before whoever was behind you would get a chance to strike. Maybe that would've been better, you considered. Maybe then you wouldn't have to possibly live with the guilt of your decisions. You felt disgusted with yourself, and before you could linger with that feeling further, you felt a cold, heavy hand grasp your hair. It's fingers laced itself between your hair strands, and it held your head in place with a strength you weren't prepared for.

The hand on your head pulled it back, forcing your eyes to stay tightly shut, too afraid to open and witness what was in front of you. You played in your mind memories from the past, let yourself reminisce one last time before you were met with your choice. You suddenly felt warm air drift across your cheeks, as though someone was breathing right on you. It made you sweat more, slowly realising how close your attacker was; it made your heart sink deeper into your chest, with the anxiety building to a point of no return. You kept your eyes shut, and stayed frozen in place, unable to bring yourself to fight back against them. You were left hopeless, as though you were a rabbit being hunted down by a lone wolf.

"Open your eyes, Chiquillo/a, I can't keep playing with you if you won't even look at me" they said, their voice feminine and yet dominating. You felt as though your mind was being abused by their voice, it rattled inside your skull as though it was poisonous. Their tone was sharp, and assertive, with a hint of playfulness. The grip on your hair was growing stronger, pulling your head further back, before you could feel them press against your cheek. "You're only making things worse for yourself by ignoring me. Either open your eyes, or I will for you." the voice stated, in a much more frustrated tone once they realised how vigilant you were staying with keeping your eyes closed. They enjoyed watching you writhe under their grip, as though they were playing with their food. It was torture, but you knew if you didn't open your eyes it would be much worse. You couldn't handle it anymore, and so you let your eyes slowly widen, taking in the figure that was watching you. Your computer was the only thing letting you see them, with it's glow highlighting only what they wanted you to see.

When you looked at the figure from the corner of your eye, the first thing you noticed was their mask. It covered their eyes, obscuring any features you could see from the apples of their cheeks and up. It reminded you of a masquerade mask, but with cybernetic features. It had glowing LEDs throughout, helping you see just how intricate it's design was. As you continued analysing your newfound enemy, you noticed something else almost instantly. This figure was a woman. You were caught off guard, but it didn't change how terrified you were. Your heart raced as you studied the design of her outfit, her mask, her lips. You were left dumbfounded at the woman that stood there, gripping your hair and standing so close to you that she probably could feel the blood rushing through your veins. Your mind was scattered, and you had no words left to use to defend yourself.

"Good. You know how to follow directions; looks like you're not all that useless." the woman said in a stern way, still holding you close to her as she ushered these words into your ears. You felt vulnerable, and knew this was just the beginning of what she was planning. "You know who I am by now, don't you?" she asked, in a teasing way, as though she enjoyed the mystery surrounding her identity. You shook your head, not able to formulate words to respond to her with. Your mind was blank, and your body was a puppet being used by this woman. You were under her control already, and you couldn't bring yourself to even mutter a word to her. How could she be so powerful? Who was she? "It doesn't matter either way, it's not like you'll live to tell the tale after all. Name's Sombra, nice to finally meet you after our game. I've been watching this company for a while, especially you. You're the only one who's gotten close to finding my breeches, and it's time that you were put down once and for all." Your core shook with anxiety. You were face to face with, presumably, S. How could this happen? How could she know these things? And how could you let this happen? Your mind raced with possibilities, and you couldn't process what was happening fully before she slammed your head against the keyboard. Your mind fluttered in and out of consciousness, with the pounding from your heart now in your head. She enjoyed watching you cry in pain, unable to bring yourself to stop her.

"You're the perfect toy for me to use right now, and I can't wait to watch you crumble. People like you deserve it." her words echoed throughout your mind, as she whispered in your ear with sheer enthusiasm. You were done, and your crime was working tonight. You were left hopeless, out of control, and wanting to escape. But you couldn't. Your body was disconnected from your mind now, and you had no choice but to endure it.

You felt nothing but peace before blacking out. At least you weren't present for what Sombra did to your body, the violence it endured. You were thankful for the fact that your mind was protecting you from the trauma inflicted. You were blacked out, and unconscious until 5am, when you woke to paramedics rushing you out of the building with co-workers surrounding your body in panicked states. You couldn't remember what happened beyond those last words spoken to you, and you wish you could to help the police stop her.

Your office space was declaired a crime scene; blood stained your keyboard and mousepad, your desk was splintered from repeated slams into it, your chair broken and your computer screen was smashed, with one final notification on it. No one could get rid of it, and it stained the screen with light burns. Everyone who read it felt unnerved, and you weren't told what it was until you were interviewed by detectives. Once you found out, your blood boiled. You felt disgusted, as though you were just the start of something more sinister. As you tried to recover in hospital, the final notification replayed over and over in your mind, as though Sombra was saying it to you directly.

"Let this scene be a warning for anyone who tries to stand in my way. The pain your company has caused people will be exposed, and I will be watching the downfall of those undeserving of mercy with a smile on my face. - S"