#I just settled for right age range and not pale

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from an in-progress "the Core Four gets a clonebaby and it's not even Tim's fault" fic

Kon has a bruise on his face and is bleeding from the mouth and has a four year-old sitting on his hip all wrapped up in his studded leather jacket. Tim finds seeing him bleeding more concerning than the sight of the kid, because while Kon isn't necessarily the first choice to comfort the traumatized civilians, he's done it plenty of times and he'll no doubt do it plenty more.

Also, like, the whole street is on fire. What, is he gonna put the kid down?

The kid is barefoot and wearing a white bodysuit, it looks like. They have pale skin and fluffy black chin-length hair and huge hazel eyes–a hazel that's practically yellow in the light of the burning street, it's so bright–and they're small and slender, but also surprisingly muscular for their age.

And surprisingly alert, Tim can't help but notice. Their eyes are subtly darting around, hypervigilant to a fault, and they're visibly just clocking things. They've already threat-assessed him, Cassie, and Bart, and they're obviously watching out for anyone else and simultaneously keeping an eye on the guttering flames and broken ground and surrounding street in general.

The bad guys left out here are technically all down and thoroughly zip-tied into submission, but the kid assesses them all too, one by one.

Tim gets a weird itch in the back of his brain, and Kon brings the kid over to the rest of them.

Their eyes aren't hazel, Tim realizes. They actually are yellow.

A very specific, familiar yellow.

"What's with the kid?" Bart asks, narrowing his very specific, familiar eyes curiously. "Like, why are you bringing the kid, I mean, not 'why does the kid exist?' That's a different question, obviously, like really why do any of us–"

"They're ours," Kon says.

Bart stops talking.

"Um?" he says.

"What do you mean they're 'ours'?" Cassie says.

"Show 'em that thing you showed me, kiddo?" Kon asks the kid, patting their back. They nod solemnly. Then they vibrate into a blur that phases right through Kon's arms, leather jacket and all. Kon makes no effort to catch them, apparently because he knows it's unnecessary, because a second later the kid is floating up into the air over all their heads.

Tim blinks, very slowly. Tilts his head.

Kon wiggles his fingers at the kid, who noises very quietly and reaches down to grab at his hand. Kon grins up at them and holds his arms open, and the kid settles back into them . . . not warily, exactly? But very definitely uncertainly. Like it's something unfamiliar.

Not like Kon is unfamiliar. Like being held is unfamiliar.

"Okay, huh," Bart says. "Well that sure was the Speed Force."

"And that sure is a Greek demigod," Cassie says.

"Sure is," Kon says agreeably. "And I'll give you two guesses as to where the attached unenhanced human DNA came from, Boy Wonder."

"Kon, what the hell?" Tim says in bemusement. "What even . . . what, exactly?"

"Remember that weird green light earlier?" Kon asks conversationally as he pets the kid's back. "The one that just kinda flashed all up in your respective businesses while I was inside punching asshole scientists after the comms got fried?"

"Yes," Tim replies warily. "I assumed it was supposed to be some kind of distraction."

"It was a DNA scanner," Kon says.

"Ah," Tim says, and wonders how the hell he's going to explain this to Bruce.

"Apparently, these shits decided the best way to handle invading superheroes was to just copy their DNA and then make speed-gro clones who could counteract their abilities," Kon says, jerking his head back towards the TTK-ruined remains of the lab. "With, obviously, a healthy side of brainwashing and indoctrination programming uploaded directly into their developing brains. But literally everyone and their mother underestimates the range of TTK, so I kinda just broke the lab and now, welllll . . ."

"So the kid is a Greek demigod with a Speed Force connection and a Bat-brain?" Cassie asks.

"Apparently," Kon says, nuzzling the kid's ridiculously floofy black hair. "Sorry, kiddo, I'd have given you TTK if I'd gotten the option, but we made the fatal error that is splitting the party. Then again, now you won't wanna puke if you ever run into kryptonite, so could be worse? And also you not getting TTK meant I was on deck to save you from getting grown into a teenage superweapon, so that was probably worth it, right? Like, not that we wouldn't have let you join the team in that case, but clone to clone, I hear actual childhoods are kinda cool and all."

Well, Tim thinks it's safe to make some assumptions about why Kon said "they're ours" and not "they're yours".

"Huh," Cassie says, looking bemused.

". . . honestly I just can't believe this isn't Rob's fault," Bart says, darting over to peer more closely at the kid, who frowns at him.

"I'm not that bad," Tim protests reflexively. The others all give him pitying looks. "Don't look at me like that, I'm not!"

"Yes you are," Cassie says dryly, then steps in closer towards Kon and the kid too and smiles at them. "Hey there, little guy. What's your name?"

The kid stares blankly at her, then curls up tighter in Kon's jacket–and, probably not incidentally, his arms–and presses in closer against him.

"No," they say. Cassie blinks.

"'No'?" she repeats in confusion.

"Babe, they're five minutes out of the cloning tube," Kon says wryly. "They don't have a name."

". . . we should fix that," Cassie says. "Like. Immediately, let's fix that."

"Yeah, I'm on board with that," Kon agrees. "Any suggestions?"

"Are you a boy or a girl?" Tim asks the kid, because at this age it's hard to tell. He's assuming boy, since two male gene donors to one female, but who knows, really.

"I'm a clone," the kid says, looking at him like they think he's stupid.

"Gender-neutral name it is," Kon says, clearly unconcerned by that very concerning response.

"Max?" Bart offers immediately and unsurprisingly, visibly perking up. Which, well–not the worst name for a speedster anyway, Tim supposes.

"Blake," Cassie suggests. "Avery, Channing, Charlie, Aubrey, Kirby, Morgan, Sage, Shiloh–"

"You're hanging out with Cissie a lot again, huh," Bart observes.

"Like you're not?" Cassie huffs, tweaking his nose before continuing with: "Ash, Casey, Jo, Sam, Maddox . . ."

"Alex?" Tim tries, mostly because Cassie's offering a lot of unusual-sounding options and that might not be ideal.

Bart and Cassie eye him. Kon raises an eyebrow in a very Luthor-esque fashion.

Tim experiences the five stages of grief and quickly moves on.

"Uh, or Jace," he says. "Or . . . Harley?"

Wait, those are terrible too.

"No," the kid says, frowning at all of them.

"None of those sound good?" Kon asks them. The kid's frown deepens and they press closer against him, still eyeing the rest of them just a little bit sullenly.

"I don't want one of their names," they say with obvious distaste, and also much clearer annunciation than a typical four year-old would have. "I want one from you."

"Oh," Kon says, blinking a couple times. "Yeah, okay, kiddo. Um . . . you sure?"

"Yes," the kid says.

"Okay," Kon says, and tightens his grip on them a little. And then, surprisingly quickly–"Kenley Elliot. And we can hash out your last name later, that's gonna have to be a later thing. How's that sound? You want it?"

"Yes," the kid repeats, and then throws their arms around Kon's neck and squeezes. It looks a bit closer to a chokehold than a hug, but Kon a) is a half-Kryptonian clone, and b) clearly doesn't care.

"Cool," he says, and swallows a little roughly. "Okay, well, that's squared away. Let's get the fuck out of here before some asshole with a badge tries to take custody of Kenley."

Tim did not miss the "Kent" and "El" concealed in either of those names, or how quickly Kon had them to hand. Not as quick as Bart had "Max", obviously, but . . .

Very quickly, all the same.

Alright, then.

#superboy #dc robin #wonder girl #dc impulse #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: yj accidental baby acquisition

[laurenairay]

I'm still haunted by the memories - S. Crosby

Summary: Maeva thought five years was long enough to get over Sidney breaking her heart. Apparently not.

Words: 5.5k

This is my fic for @senditcolton​’s birthday bingo! I chose the bingo squares ‘wedding season’, ‘It was always you’, ‘free space – argument scene’, ‘second chance romance’, and ‘interrupted kiss’. I haven’t written a full fic for Sid in ages, so I really hope you like this!

Warnings: angst, past break up scene, exes to (potential) lovers

Title: Little do you know, by Alex & Sierra

~

“What am I to you?”

“What?” Sidney asked, confused.

“What am I to you? What do I mean to you?”

“What’s going on, Maeva?” he asked, frowning.

“Can you just answer my question please?”

Sidney frowned even more at the sharpness of her voice. “You’re my girlfriend. I love you. What’s going on?”

“You love me?”

“Yes! Mae, seriously…”

She could tell he was getting frustrated now, but that didn’t settle the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

“We’ve been together five years now. I love you more than I thought could’ve ever loved anyone. Five years of cheering you on no matter what. Five years of supporting you and the team and all the better halves as they’ve come and gone. Five years of always coming second but putting on a smile because I know hockey is your whole world. But I thought I would’ve at least had a part of it?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Of course you’re part of my world,” Sidney said, confused.

Was he really going to be that cruel, to pretend he didn’t know what she meant?

“At the team get together this weekend, when we celebrated the latest Pens rookie getting engaged, someone joked to you about when you were going to put a ring on my finger too. But you just snorted and changed the subject…”

She trailed off, watching Sidney’s face pale a little bit, his reaction sinking like a stone in her stomach.

“I don’t…where did you hear that?”

“I was right behind you, Sid. I was right there and Kris & Cath saw me but you didn’t. They sent me pitying smiles and I hated it, Sid. Why don’t you want a life with me?” Maeva asked, her voice finally cracking as tears threatened to spill.

“We already have a life together. Why do we need to complicate it?”

“Complicate it? You think marriage is just a complication?” she shot back.

“I just don’t see why we need to put a label on things. We’ve got a good thing going,” Sidney huffed.

“Labels? Are you kidding me? I’m nearly 30, Sid, and all I have to show for the thing I’ve poured my heart into for five years is a couple of photos on your cup days? You won’t take me out in public, you don’t talk about me to anyone outside of your team and your immediate family, you can clearly drop me at any moment…are you ashamed of our relationship? Have I been wasting my time?”

“Damn it Mae, I’m not ashamed! I thought you understood that I like my privacy!”

That’s all he took out of it?

“I know you value it, Sid, but I didn’t think it would get to this point. I didn’t think you would go this far. I’m tired of being an afterthought to you!”

“And I’m tired of you being so insecure!”

Her breath hitched in her throat as a pang of hurt rang through her chest, and she could see a flash of regret immediately pass over Sidney’s face.

“Maeva…”

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Sid. There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel appreciated and there is nothing wrong with wanting to know that I have a future to look forward to. Because apparently I don’t. Who knew that Sidney Crosby was such a commitment-phobe?”

~

Maeva glanced out of the airplane window, hazy memories passing through her mind as the plane started its decent into Halifax airport. It didn’t seem like it had been five years since her life with Sidney had fallen apart, almost as long as their just-over-five-years relationship. But the memories of that awful night still burned her heart like a hot poker. She may have left him that night, may have returned to Canada, but she hadn’t been able to move back to Nova Scotia. She’d tried, sure, but she’d only lasted a few months before the memories of their time there together was too much to bear too. It had felt right to flee to the other side of Canada, all the way to Vancouver where she was able to secure an apartment and a job where no-one knew who she was. Maeva had only visited her parents a few times in the five years since – and only when she knew he absolutely wouldn’t be there.

Everything had just hurt too much. It still did.

But now, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was heading back to Cole Harbour in the summer. Her cousin Natasha was getting married, and her aunt had begged Maeva to come home to join her parents in attending. If it wasn’t for the fact that she and Natasha had grown up as close as sisters, Maeva would’ve found an excuse somehow – but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. All she had to do was survive the long weekend. It was late Thursday evening that she’d flown over, leaving Friday for wedding errands, Saturday for the pre-wedding celebrations, and Sunday for the wedding day itself - both ceremony and reception. She’d managed to book a flight home at midday on Monday, but she knew that this weekend was going to be a test of her strength.

Maeva had done so well to protect her heart for so long, and she didn’t want a few days back in Cole Harbour to ruin it.

It didn’t take long for her to pick up her suitcase and head to the arrivals area, a small smile crossing her lips at the sight of her dad waiting for her. Maeva could happily admit that she was a daddy’s girl, through and through, the two of them having the only blonde hair in the family, his quiet calm aura always making her feel happy and secure. That was one of the only things she regretted about not toughing it out in Cole Harbour – she didn’t get to spend the time with her dad that he deserved.

She made a mental note not to take that for granted this weekend.

“My little Maeva,” he said gruffly, warmth seeping into every word as he hugged her tightly.

“It’s good to see you. I’m…I’m sorry it’s been so long,” she murmured when they eventually separated.

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad you’re home for the wedding. Lord knows I need a little more sanity in the house.”

Maeva just snickered, looping her arm through her dad’s as they started to walk out to the parking lot. “Mom’s succumbed to wedding fever then?”

“Happily skipped into crazy town, more like it,” he grinned, “I don’t think I can survive another day of folding bits of paper into little birds to decorate the tables.”

Maeva just grimaced, making her dad laugh. That sounded like her idea of nightmare chaos. “Any chance we can avoid most of the wedding prep tomorrow?”

Her dad just smiled indulgently. “Oh I’m sure I can figure something out.”

She really had missed him.

~

Just as her dad had promised, he managed to get the two of them out of the intense wedding preparations that the family were taking part in on Friday. The two of them went out for a long breakfast in the morning, before her mom could bundle her into the car and over to her aunt’s, and after a slow walk by the waterside, telling him all about her life in Vancouver and her small circle of friends and her low-key retail managerial career, they eventually made their way back to the house. Her mom was annoyed with them both, Maeva knew that much, but she couldn’t stay mad at Maeva for long, not really when she knew exactly why her only daughter never came home – and Maeva made up for it by ironing her dad’s shirt for the wedding and steaming his suit, her mom’s dress, and her own dress, while her father shined his shoes to her mom’s satisfaction.

There would be enough time to apologise to her cousin on Saturday during the welcome lunch up at Hatfield Farm, where 30 close family and friends would be staying overnight ahead of the wedding on Sunday (with the same 30 staying on the Sunday night). Thankfully the venue was only a 40 minute drive from her family home in Cole Harbour, so she would have plenty of time to make her flight back to Vancouver on the Monday.

She just had to get through the weekend first. One step at a time.

Saturday morning was as chaotic as Maeva thought it would be. Her mom had the three of them loading up her dad’s car like a military operation, checklist on clipboard included, to make sure that nothing was left behind, especially as their part of the family was in charge of the table centrepieces and fairy lights for decorating the reception hall. Once all of that, and their wedding outfits (and shoes and accessories) were ready, along with their overnight bags, it was coming close to midday, and with a picnic basket full of snacks and drinks for the little cabin that the three of them would be staying in, they hit the road.

Despite everything, it made Maeva smile as she recognised the other cars on their journey, all of them making their way to Hatfield Farm like a miniature invasion. The curse of a small town.

It didn’t take long to sort out the accommodation keys, and once Maeva had hung up her dress for the wedding (at her mom’s request to reduce wrinkles), she sprayed a little perfume and fluffed up her blonde hair before rejoining her parents.

“Ready to face the circus?” her dad grinned.

“Honestly,” her mom tutted, elbowing him.

But even she gave Maeva a worried glance.

“I’ll be fine. Cole Harbour may be a small town, but it’s not like Sidney can pop up everywhere,” Maeva said, trying to convince herself as much as them. “It’ll be good to celebrate Natasha’s happy day.”

“Atta girl,” her dad said gruffly.

Her mom just nodded, threading her fingers through her dad’s to silently lead them across the grounds to the main reception hall, where the welcome lunch was being held. They weren’t the last people there, not by any means, but they definitely weren’t the first. Maeva could see her cousin walking towards them with a big smile on her face, dressed in a gorgeous peach dress and looking radiant with happiness, and that joy was infectious.

Until Maeva glanced across the other side of the room, that is.

The sound of her breath catching in her throat was enough to make her parents look in the same direction, and her unflappable dad scowled in a way she’d never seen before.

“What is he doing here?” her dad asked lowly, lips pursing as he turned back to look at her cousin.

Natasha glanced over and cursed under her breath. “Sid wasn’t meant to be arriving until later. I was meant to have enough time to give you a warning, Maeva. Carl invited him but wasn’t sure if he could make it – they’ve been friends since they were kids.”

“Curse of a small town,” she murmured, her smile shaky.

She glanced back at him, thankful that he hadn’t noticed her looking yet, her heart racing in a way that made her feel sick as she took him in. Sidney looked good, of course he did. Broad shoulders, giant ass, and thick thighs filling out his suit so perfectly, hair dusted with grey in a way that only made him look distinguished. He was standing sideways, talking with Nate (of course Nate was here too) and a couple of other guys from their hometown, and as he laughed, head thrown back, the sound of his ridiculous honking giggle made her want to cry.

She wasn’t ready. How could she think she was ready?

Her mom subtly took her hand in hers, squeezing gently to reassure her, only making her dad curse under his breath again.

“Hey, you’re my cousin. If him being here is going to ruin your weekend, I can kick him out. I don’t care if his name is on the town sign – you are family,” Natasha said firmly, voice still quiet.

Tears stung at her eyes slightly at her cousin’s care, but she shook her head. No, no she had to face being in Cole Harbour at the same time as him at some point. She wasn’t going to let him ruin things, not this time. “It’s been five years. I’ll survive.”

Natasha just frowned, taking Maeva’s free hand in her own.

“You just say the word and he’s gone, okay? I haven’t had a chance to be bridezilla yet,” she said, grinning sharply.

Maeva laughed a little wetly, shaking her head again, squeezing Natasha’s hand and her mom’s to say thank you silently.

“Everything will be fine. There will be enough people here that you can just avoid him!” her mom said, smiling.

Maeva didn’t need to look at her dad as he huffed to know that just wouldn’t happen. But still, she had to believe it was possible or she wasn’t even going to make it through today. She could avoid him as much as possible – there was only so much her heart could handle.

“Drinks?” Natasha suggested.

“Hell yes,” Maeva sighed.

Drinks, then setting up the reception hall with the fairy lights, and bringing in all of the table centrepieces ready for the venue staff to set up in the morning. Then maybe some more drinks. She could handle that.

When she eventually went to sleep close to midnight, her heart was aching in the worst way – Maeva hadn’t expected to actually be able to avoid Sidney, but she also hadn’t expected to feel his eyes trailing her around the room for the entire day.

And she was dreading tomorrow even more, now that she knew he would be there.

~

Breakfast in the morning was a communal affair. The wedding ceremony wasn’t until 2pm, and the staff at Hatfield Farm were putting on a breakfast spread for all the guests from 7-9am, so Maeva was making good use of it, knowing she wouldn’t eat for hours after this. Her dress was a flowy one thankfully, so she didn’t have to worry about carb bloating – it was one of the reasons she’d chosen it, along with the fact at it was light and airy enough for the warm weather and a gorgeous shimmery gold colour that complimented her wonderfully. And it didn’t conflict with the beautiful lilac and cream wedding colours either, which was a bonus.

Her parents had already eaten and headed back to the accommodation, leaving Maeva to finish her orange juice in peace. Still, being back in Cole Harbour after all this time, surrounded by people that she’d left behind in her efforts to leave him behind…it was almost too much, and she found herself stepping outside for some air to clear her head.

One more day.

She could make it one more day.

But the moment that she heard footsteps walking over to her, she knew her luck had run out.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get you alone.”

Hello to you too, Sidney.

“Why would you even want to?” Maeva said, voice cold and polite as she turned to face him.

Sidney just winced. “Mae, come on, you know why.”

Oh screw him. Shortening her name like he used to, playing with her emotions like that? No.

“No, Sidney, I don’t know why,” she said shortly, “We broke up five years ago, almost as long ago as the whole length of our relationship was – so what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Please don’t be like this. I’m trying to apologise,” he said, frowning.

“Apologise for what, exactly?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Sidney just huffed out a frustrated breath, putting his coffee mug down on a nearby table.

“Maeva, I’m serious. I’m trying to be the bigger person here and-”

“Are you kidding me? The bigger person? Our relationship ended because you couldn’t commit, Sidney, and you’re talking about being the bigger person like I’ve done something wrong?” she said angrily,

The nerve. What the hell.

“If you would just listen to me…”

“Listen to what? What could you possibly have to say to me?” she spat, cutting him off again.

“If you’d stop interrupting me then I could actually say it!” he shot back, shades away from shouting.

“Uh, guys?”

Maeva looked sharply to the left, seeing Nate standing there awkwardly looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What, Nate?” Sidney said shortly, cheeks flushed.

“Uh, your mom is looking for you, Maeva,” he explained, grimacing.

“Thanks. We were done here anyway,” Maeva said coldly.

“No we…”

But she just stormed away, not letting Sidney finish, ignoring the hissed conversation between the two men, trying desperately to keep her composure until she was alone. Just as Nate said, her mom was glancing around, and the moment that she spotted her, her face fell.

“Let’s get back to the rooms to get ready, yes?” her mom said, pasting a smile on her face.

It was all Maeva could do to nod, letting her mom usher her along, the fire in her chest from their building argument fizzling away into an all-consuming black hole of sadness. Why would he confront her like that? Why would he want to unsettle her like that after all these years? She would never have thought of him as cruel, but this…this was the last thing she needed. Those few minutes were everything she’d been trying to avoid, and the wedding hadn’t even officially start yet – how was she going to make it through the rest of the day?

The moment that their cabin door was shut behind them, her mom whirled around to face her.

“Maeva, sweetie, what happened?”

She opened her mouth to explain, but all that she managed to do was start crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mom let out an uncharacteristic curse, cradling her in her arms, only making Maeva sob harder. This is why she never came home. This is exactly why.

She didn’t know how long it took for her to calm down, for her sobbing and tears to fade to sniffles, and she was just glad that her mom hadn’t changed into her wedding outfit yet.

“Give me the word and I will get laxatives put in his drinks. I know people,” her mom said seriously.

Maeva choked out a laugh, smiling shakily at her mom’s attempt to cheer her up, but shook her head.

“It was stupid. Just stupid. I wish he wasn’t here but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of leaving,” Maeva said sadly.

“You’re a braver woman than I am,” her mom said, huffing out a laugh.

“Nah, I get it from you, eh?”

Her mom just smiled shakily, giving her another quick hug before pulling back to rest her hands on her shoulders.

“Let’s get ready for this wedding. Have a shower and then I’ll help you with your hair,” her mom said firmly.

Maeva just smiled, nodding her head, heading towards her room as she heard the shower stopping. By the time she’d gathered her towels and underwear, her dad was back in the room he shared with her mom, leaving her to shower quickly. Leaving her with her swirling thoughts.

Even though minutes ago her blood was boiling with his audacity, her heart still ached for him. Up close the grey in his hair looked even better than she’d thought, the slight laughter lines around his eyes only adding to his appeal. His voice was a smooth as she remembered, his figure just as broad and overwhelming compared to her slight frame as it always had been. Even his intensity, his emotion, was exactly as she remembered, sending shivers down her spine.

She missed him.

And she hated it as much as she loved it.

She loved him. Even as much as she wished she didn’t.

It didn’t take her long to do her make up and put on her dress, and she blow-dried her hair to the point where it was manageable by the time her mom knocked on her bedroom door.

“Oh sweetie, you look beautiful,” her mom said, voice earnest and sweet.

Maeva just grinned back at her, twirling on the spot to watch her golden dress flare in the mirror.

Her mom laughed, rolling her eyes fondly as she guided Maeva to sit down on the end of the bed. She expertly twisted half of her hair up into an elegant bun, fixing it in place with a couple of bobby pins and a ribbon that matched the gold of her dress, leaving the rest of her hair to flow down her back in blonde waves. It was simple but refined, and she felt pretty the moment she looked in the mirror.

“Thanks mom. Let’s do this thing.”

“That’s my girl.”

~

The wedding was beautiful. Maeva didn’t know what else she expected though, if she was being honest. Natasha looked ethereal as she glided down the aisle, her fiancé crying a little when he saw her, and the two of them didn’t stop smiling at each other the whole ceremony. Maeva kept her eyes on them the whole time, even though she could feel eyes on her throughout the hour – she knew exactly who they belonged to, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t, not at a wedding she knew she would never have.

All the guests moved into the reception hall, sitting at their assigned tables, Maeva sitting between her parents with each of them holding one of her hands like they didn’t want her to disappear. She could only imagine what her mom her told her dad about her breakdown this morning, but that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. All through the wedding speeches Maeva sipped on her champagne, laughing at the appropriate moments, tearing up at her uncle’s heartfelt words, cheering the toasts to the new bride and groom. She could barely remember what she ate when the food came and went, but she dutifully ate under the watchful eye of her mom, making small talk with the other members of their table, answering politely to questions about her life in Vancouver, 6000km feeling even further away than ever before.

By the time the additional guests joined them all for the evening reception, Maeva was well on her way to being overwhelmed, but she joined the circle of people on the dancefloor to watch Natasha and her new husband in their first dance.

Just as the music started, a familiar figure stepped up next to her. Maeva froze, desperately trying to think of how to make a subtle exit, but Sidney gently pressed a flute of champagne into her hand.

“This is an apology drink,” he murmured. “I should never have lost my temper with you this morning.”

Not here. Not now.

She didn’t know what her face was showing as she glanced up at him but Sidney’s face just looked sad.

“Can we talk after their first dance finishes? Please?” he begged softly.

There was something in his voice that made her façade crack.

“Fine.”

She didn’t dare take her eyes off of Natasha and her husband for the rest of the dance, sipping the champagne flute, waiting until people started joining them on the dancefloor to slip away, Sidney subtly following her. Just off the side of the venue was a small courtyard, separated from the rest of the outside space by a trellis of flowers, just enough to give them a semblance of privacy.

Maeva put down the glass as Sidney joined her, wrapping her arms around herself partly as a guard, partly as comfort, her ex-boyfriend standing in front of her looking just as overwhelming as he always had.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” he started, smiling a little.

“What did you want to talk about, Sid?” she sighed.

“I messed up all those years ago,” he murmured.

No, no she couldn’t do this.

“Sidney I can’t,” she interrupted, shaking her head.

“Please, please just let me finish,” he begged.

She just bit her bottom lip, glancing away from him briefly to steel herself, before nodding.

“I have spent five years trying to think about what I would say if I ever got the chance to see you again. Five years playing the conversation over and over again in my head, going through every scenario, and right now in this moment, none of it is coming to my head,” he said softly.

That was so typically Sid.

“Forget what’s in your head. What’s in your heart?” she found herself saying.

He huffed out a laugh, nodding his head.

“I love you, Maeva,” he said, tears glistening in his eyes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh god this was the last thing she’d been expecting.

He still loved her?

“Do you love me too? Is there any chance that you still love me?” he asked desperately.

He still loved her?

Running on pure instinct, Maeva choked out a sob as she leaned up and kissed him, hands clutching at his shirt.

Of course she still loved him.

Sidney didn’t hesitate as he kissed her slowly back, cradling her face with both hands, pouring everything into the embrace. Maeva’s head swirled as her blood surged and her heart raced…and then a couple of wedding guests stumbled outside too, clearly drunk. They were mostly giggling and falling into themselves, so they didn’t notice Sidney and Maeva springing apart, and as they stumbled around the corner Sidney quickly took one of Maeva’s hands in his, breaking her out of her frozen state of shock.

“You still love me?” Sidney asked hopefully.

“That was so stupid. I shouldn’t have…we shouldn’t have…”

His face fell.

“Please don’t run away. Please don’t leave me, not again,” Sidney begged, interrupting her rambling words.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.

“We can’t just go back to how things were, Sid,” Maeva said sadly, “We’re different people now, we’ve both changed.”

“Then let me get to know you again. And you can get to know me,” Sidney said desperately, “We still love each other – isn’t that enough?”

Maeva’s face must’ve looked as incredulous as she felt, because he squeezed her hand a little tighter, eyes burning with intensity. She remembered that look. It still had the same effect on her, knowing that Sidney was leading up to something heart achingly earnest.

“You are right, I’ve changed – I’m not the same man I was before. I made the biggest mistake of my life taking you for granted, letting you go when I should’ve fought for us, and I regretted it the moment I realised you’d truly left. My stupid pride kept me from reaching out to you in the first few weeks, and when I got over myself, it was too late.”

“Sidney…” she murmured.

“No-one would tell me where you went. Your parents wouldn’t talk to me, or to my mom. Your friends blocked my number. All Taylor could find out was that you were in Cole Harbor for a few months before you left for good and that you’ve barely been back since. I searched for you, for any sign of you, wherever I went and it still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

“Sidney,” she repeated, tears stinging her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Mae. I love you. I always have – it was always you. It was always going to be you, and I’ve spent five years regretting every single moment of that stupid fight and everything I did leading up to it. As selfish as it is, I can only hope that no-one else has your heart. Can you ever forgive me?”

Maeva swallowed heavily, letting go of his hand to run shaky fingers through her hair in an effort to compose herself. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of hearing from him and it was also everything she’d dreaded. She’d spent so long in therapy building up her walls, repairing her heart, learning how to heal herself and protect herself from falling into this kind of heartbreak again.

But she loved him.

She loved him so deeply that she didn’t know how she could ever stop. Sidney Crosby was so intrinsically part of her that she knew that, being honest with herself, she didn’t know what a life without him looked like. It was one of the main things she still talked about with her therapist, her inability to accept anyone new into her heart, and she knew deep down that no-one would ever replace him, not truly.

But was she ready to just fall back into his arms.

“I don’t know if I can,” she said softly, and wow wasn’t the devastated look on his face heartbreaking? “I want to, Sid, but I have spent years trying to move on from you and I don’t think I can handle going through what we did again.”

Sidney let out a shaky breath, smiling sadly as his eyes shined with tears. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. I just…I want to show you that I’ve changed. I want to show you all of the love that I should’ve shown you five years ago. You deserve that much. You should have someone love you in every single way that you absolutely deserve.”

“Sidney…” was all she could murmur again.

Maybe it was her lack of refusal, or the softness in her voice, but Sidney took one of her hands again, squeezing it gently.

“I know that we have separate lives now. I know that you have created something wonderful for yourself without me. But all I’m asking for is a chance to start over,” he said softly.

“But how would that work with you in Pittsburgh and me in Vancouver?”

“You’re a Canucks fan now?” he grimaced.

Of course that was his priority. Still, she found herself choking out a laugh, shaking her head as Sidney flushed a little with shame. “I haven’t watched hockey since I left Pittsburgh. Vancouver was just the furthest I could get away and still be in Canada.”

The look that passed over his face was a curious mix of sadness, regret, and frustration, before it settled into the determination she’d known for years.

“Can I call you?”

“What?” she asked, frowning.

“Can I call you?” he repeated. “I’m still not on social media, other than whatever the team makes us do. I’m getting better at texting. Emails are so-so. But I would love to talk to you, to hear your voice. I miss you, so much.”

How did he know exactly what to say to make her heart cry out?

“Sidney, come on,” she pleaded, trying to ignore the lump rising in her throat.

But he didn’t back down.

“Tell me no, Maeva. Tell me no, and I will walk away. You know I’m not that guy – no means no, and if you mean it then I will never bother you again,” he said seriously.

“You know I can’t,” she murmured.

Sidney just let out a shaky breath, squeezing her hand again as a smile hopeful smile crept across his lips.

“So let me call you. We can start with baby steps. I know you have a life in Vancouver now…but I just want to be part of it. I wasted five years of my life without you because I was an idiot who didn’t appreciate the incredible woman I had – all I want is another chance. Do you love me?”

He really was devastating, wasn’t he?

“Do you love me?” he repeated, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“I do love you. I don’t think I know how to stop,” she said, feeling like an idiot but smiling anyway.

Sidney just smiled like he couldn’t believe his luck, and slowly lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

“I love you, Maeva,” he murmured.

He kissed her hand again before gently lowering it back down to their sides, so much emotion in his face that Maeva didn’t know what else she could possibly do.

“You can call me. I’m making no promises, but you can call me,” she said softly.

The smile that spread across his face made her heart soar for the first time in years.

~

Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep? Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories? Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece? Little do you know I need a little more time?

Oh wait, just wait, I love you like I've never felt the pain, Just wait, I love you like I've never been afraid, Just wait, our love is here, is here to stay, So lay your head on me.

#my writing #nicole's b-day bingo #sidney crosby fic #exes to lovers #sidney crosby fanfic #sidney crosby imagine #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfic

[batfoonery]

I’m sad tonight so have a stupid little headcannon of mine about how I think Damian grows up

Firstly, he cannot grow up this is Illegal that’s my spunky little guy!

But if he must (and I suppose he must)

Personally I don’t agree with DC’s tendency to make him Big n Bulky like Bruce.

Assuming Talia really did handpick certain traits, she probably would have leaned towards traits better for being an assassin. Like a more slender frame. Probably not as slender as Tim. If we chart it with Bruce n Jay being the Bulkiest and Tim being the most slim (but still very strong!) and Dick as the midpoint (aerodynamic but wider chest + shoulders) then I’d put him between Jay and Dick, but certainly a bit closer to the latter than the former.

I also am of the opinion that he’s the second most springy (flexible) after Dick.

So, I know with ballerinas the reason they have to start young is bc they have to start forming the flexible pathways (I’m not wording that right but the actual term eludes me rn) bc when you reach adolescence your joints start hardening into their final full adult spots and pathways. I’m assuming that the same applies to gymnasts.

Damian would’ve been a prime age for this development of sproingy joints. Tim and Jay were already teens, so although they have the ability to be damned good acrobats, they can’t develop the same range of motion that D & d have.

And yes, this would require developing the motions. But Damian likely already had learned techniques that required a particular level of flexibility in the LoA, and then when Dick was Batman (and in charge of training) I think he would have leaned towards more acrobatic skills. Both bc it’s useful and bc he needed a way to wear the kid out so he’d stop trying to escape and maybe take a nap for once. Getting bouncy kids (well. Not bouncy, but certainly Energized) to settle down by wearing them out by tricking them into doing cross wheels across the lawn is a classic older-sibling-stuck-babysitting tactic.

Overall this means his muscle tone would probably build in a way similar to Dick as well. Not totally the same! Part of our ability to build muscle is genetic—some of us are better at putting it in certain places than others

So where Dick’s generalized shape is like an upside-down triangle (or, if the artist is choosing to be particularly annoying about the poor guy’s rear then an unfortunate wasp figure—please that poor man’s back…. Shapely but reasonable is that really too much to ask for?) I think Damian’s thighs will be Thick like Bruce’s, making him somewhat of an hourglass (ass not as defined as Dick’s though) although the narrowest part of his waist will still only be slightly curved in (so not as severe as the description ‘hourglass’ typically invokes).

Height? No clue. Smaller than Bruce but not by much I’m guessing. Tall but not too tall and somewhat slender would probably help with assassin-ing in Talia’s eyes.

Although personally I think it would be really funny if he was second smallest (Tim reigning shorty supreme of course).

Features? No clue! Honestly kids can inherit so many potential features, who knows! I like when artists give him darker skin and Talia’s nose. But I’m biased bc I wish my skin was darker (I’m half Mexican half white and wow the pale is Blinding so unfortunately I am aware just how pale mixed children can be) and Talia is like. The hottest person in DC for me. I also like the green eyes bc it makes sense for him to have been exposed to the Lazarus pit, although I’m open to them having been a different color at birth for Angst purposes.

I just think there’s so many recessive traits that could pop up as he gets older. Or maybe he starts out being Bruce’s mini-me and then magically shifts into Talia’s boy. But I like the thought of him having something unexpected like one singular dimple on his left cheek—inherited from Martha and the Kane lineage but skipped Bruce (however Kate has the same dimple). Or maybe the droop of his eyelids recalls memories of Talia’s mother (not that Ra’s ever shared this info other than maybe once in passing when he first saw the baby).

That’s it that’s all! Agree, don’t agree, I don’t really mind either way. I just think it’s fun to think about sometimes.

#batfam #dc comics #batman #damian wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #robin #batfamily headcanons

[nyxnightshade1332]

Expectations When Expecting (Book 1)

Chapter 10

Chapter 11:

Yuu wasn't very fond of using knives, having almost cut off her finger at a young age when her uncle had allowed her to try peeling a chestnut. She hated it yet found that it was the easiest way to actually peel a chestnut.

She huffed, blowing on her fingers as she peeled a still-hot chestnut that hadn't quite cooled off.

"Ha! Weak." Ace stated, blowing on his fingers as he attempted to peel the chestnut in his hands, putting the knife down to go rinse his hands in cold water.

"Says you? The guy using cold water?" She grumbled, allowing the knife to glide across the skin of the chestnut. Once it did that, Yuu peeled the skin and placed the nut onto the plate.

Ace grumbled something, watching the others peeling the chestnuts with magic.

.

.

.

Yuu refused to admit the sudden nausea that hit her had happened because of the sweet scent of milk, chestnuts and sugar and the heat of the room.

Trey had instantly noticed Yuu's pale complexion, allowing her to go sit outside for a bit while her dizziness subsided.

Currently, the young woman was sitting outside, resting her head on the wall and praying that no spiders would climb onto her. As hard and raspy as the stone wall was, Yuu liked how cool it felt. She kept her eyes closed before she heard the door open behind her.

"You okay, Yuu?" Deuce.

She gave a short nod. "M'fine... Heat made me dizzy though." She muttered.

"Yikes. I brought you water, if that'll help." Deuce said, offering her a cool water bottle, which she took gratefully.

Opening it, she took a sip, hoping that it would settle her stomach. Yuu finally sat up, giving Deuce a weak, yet thankful smile.

"Sorry if I caused any trouble." She said, "Apparently, I can't handle sweet smells in hot temperatures."

Deuce nodded sympathetically before speaking again.

"Are you okay now?" He asked, watching Yuu take a sip of the water. She nodded, relieved at the coolness of the water.

"Yeah. I think I'm fine now." Yuu nudged the blue-haired boy. "Let's go back in before Ace chews us out."

.

.

.

"I just need to add butter and sugar to the chestnut paste..." Trey's voice rang in the kitchen as Deuce and Yuu entered. "and a sensible splash of oyster sauce."

Yuu did a bit of a double take, freezing as she thought about what the boy had said. "That's my secret ingredient!" She heard the tall boy remark.

"What the-" She mouthed before Ace and Deuce snapped themselves out of the shock.

"Oyster sauce?!" They yelped.

"Yep." Trey confirmed. "The umami of the oysters gives the cream a deep, savory flavor."

Yuu pressed her lips into a line, looking at Trey to see if he was joking in any way.

"I use this one here: Walrus-brand Young Oyster Sauce." Trey handed the two boys the bottle, seemingly forcing himself not to smile.

"All the best bakers use it in their tarts." Trey smiled, making Yuu sigh in relief. Oh thank goodness. Now I know it's a joke.

"Really? But isn't oyster sauce like, super salty?" Deuce asked.

"Some folks put chocolate into curry, don't they? Maybe it's the same idea." Ace shrugged, accepting the answer.

Unsurprisingly, Trey didn't last much longer, bursting into near hysterical laughter for a good two minutes. Yuu rolled her eyes, a small smirk forming on her face. As stupid as it was, Trey's laughter was somewhat contagious.

"I'm totally lying! No one in their right mind would put oyster sauce into a pastry." He finally revealed, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Called it!" Said Yuu, proudly. "Gotta admit though, you had me in the first half, not gonna lie."

"What?! So you were just yankin' our chain this whole time?!" Ace cried, bewildered at having fallen for such an obvious prank.

"I mean, if you'd used your brain, you'd have realized how ridiculous it was! Let that be a lesson to you. Don't believe everything you hear." Trey said, a very slight lecture being given.

Yuu nodded. "He's right. It's best to not be so oblivious." She agreed.

"Henchman?!" Grim yelped before pouting, turning away from her. "Feh. And here I thought you humans were actually somewhat decent."

"Aww c'mon Grim!" Yuu giggled, amused at Grim's sulking form. "I didn't do it to be malicious.

She smiled, walking over to Grim, kneeling to be able to look him in the eye. "Tell ya what? If you forgive me and you promise to behave, I'll design a batch of butter cookies just for you."

Grim's eyes widened at the mention of food. "Really?!" He turned to look at her. "Deal!"

She extended her hand to the cat, and shook his paw. She heard Trey chuckle behind her.

"Alright!" Trey clapped his hands, effectively getting the group's attention. "Next, I'll put in the cream... Oh!" Trey seemed to pause, looking a little sheepish as he turned back to the group.

"What's wrong?" Ace hesitantly asked, clearly worried about having to be put to work again.

"You guys gathered so many chestnuts that we may have overdone it with the chestnut paste." Trey laughed awkwardly, clearly hinting at the need to go buy more cream. "I don't think we have enough cream to mix in." He informed them.

"Then I'll go buy some. Do they sell it at the school store?" Deuce asked.

"They sell pretty much everything, so... probably." Trey shrugged, adding, "Can I have you pick me up a few other things?" Wow. He's taking advantage of the situation.

"I need two cartons of milk, two packs of eggs, some muffin cups, five cans of fruit..." Trey listed, writing on a pad of paper before handing it to Deuce.

"I don't think I'll be able to carry all that back..." Deuce muttered, turning to Yuu. "Hey, Yuu, could you come with me?"

She gave him a small smile, somewhat relieved at being given the chance to leave. "I've never been to the school store before, but... Sure." She agreed, fighting back a laugh as she heard Ace protest from next to Trey.

"Then I'm comin' too! I'm getting dizzy from all this stirrin'. I need a break!" Grim complained, taking his spot on Yuu's shoulder.

She sighed, before gesturing for Deuce to lead the way. 

Chapter 12

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #nyx nightshade #twst fanfic #preg!mc #twst wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland Book 1 #twst heartslabyul

[inmyfxith]

The Kameyoan celebration

Pairing: The Sullys x OC

A/N: I don't know where it came from, I just had a dream about it. Found names thanks to a generator.

Warnings: None

Words: 3k5

Beyond the imposing continents, the planet Pandora was also made up of countless isolated islands on which Jake Sully was almost certain he could hide his family without being quickly found. Among the clans of these archipelagos, the Kameyoan, a tribe of hunters and fishermen whose connection with nature and Eywa seemed more important than their closest neighbors, persisted. After the recent death of the last Olo'ektan, his son, Awte, had taken charge of the clan. His first decision was to allow outcasts and exiles to join him. Awte had slowly made the idea, in the minds of the members around him, that everyone had the right to a chance to prove their worth and find a place in the world.

As the sun slowly left its zenith, the members of the Kameyoan clan were surprised to see in the sky the shadow of five ikrans flying over their beloved island. They finally landed on the fine sands of Kamey, from which the clan took its name. Soon, many Na'vi with skin ranging from deep navy blue to pale sky blue gathered around the strangers. Their large eyes were particularly expressive, with a slight upward slant at the corners that gave them a perpetual air of curiosity and intelligence. As soon as he stepped onto the sand, Jake Sully advised his family to be friendly and, above all, to let him speak.

Awte appeared promptly before them, accompanied by a group of broad-shouldered men that Jake identified as hunters. The new olo'ektan was tall and muscular, his deep blue skin highlighting the piercing green of his eyes. His strong, chiseled features, along with his broad forehead and square jaw, gave him the appearance of a confident and capable leader. Without waiting, Jake Sully paid his respects, as did Neytiri.

"I see you, Awte." she repeated. For his part, the young man did the same, remaining silent for a few moments as he observed the strangers who had just landed on his land. The crowd was sizing them up, betting among themselves on their leader's willingness to let them settle in.

"What brings you so far from your forest, Jake Sully?" He asked in his deep, resonant, but no less soft and assured voice. This was probably a new point that made him a good leader, Awte spoke slowly and deliberately, choosing his words carefully. Before Jake even had time to respond, the crowd split into a path beside the olo'ektan, revealing a tall, slender Na'vi with shimmering blue skin and eyes glowing the color of amber. Her long, flowing hair was a rich shade of brown with hints of gold and red styled in intricate braids and twists and adorned with various decorative beads and feathers.

"I see you, Tsora," Jake repeated as a sign of respect, to which she responded with equal esteem before offering him a kind smile. The father had heard of her when he told Mo'at that he was interested in the sea clans. Despite her young age, Tsora was a powerful and respected member of her people because of her unique clairvoyant abilities. She had proven on many occasions that she could see the future, and her insights and visions were sought after by other clan members. She stood in such a way that only one of her profiles could be seen, with her head facing her leader and mate.

"I have come to ask for uturu, hospitality, for my family and for myself." No sooner had Jake said these words than Awte and Tsora exchanged a look, one wary, the other sympathetic. But soon their attention shifted to the family that had just arrived. As Awte asked questions, Neytiri's gaze couldn't help but gauge Tsora's demeanor as she seemed lost in thought.

"They've come back, haven't they?" The young woman interrupted them, both men turning to her. When he didn't answer, she interpreted his silence as a confession. "Haven't they done enough already?" As she spoke these words, the young woman offered her potential guests a clearer view of her face. Behind her parents, Kiri let out an empathetic whisper. The tsakarem's face bore the scars of a tragic event years before. Part of her face and neck had been badly burned when the sky people had destroyed her camp in the forest. Despite the years, the burns were still visible, leaving a jagged pink scar running from his cheek to the base of his neck. Having once been part of this species, this argument could work against Jake, and he knew it.

Pivoting slightly, he ordered his sons in one look not to stare at her. But Neteyam and Lo'ak could not help but pay attention to her scars. Both had heard about the destruction of the camps by th sky people. However, when Neteyam saw the evidence so clearly, he could not help but feel sadness and anger. While his partner focused on his negotiation with Awte, Neytiri watched with a worried look as her counterpart approached her children. Approaching Lo'ak, the latter forced himself to look away, concentrating on the ground. He didn't want to look, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Tsora stopped in front of him, and offered a kind and understanding look.

"It's okay, Lo'ak," she said softly. "I know my scars can be intimidating, but they are also a testament to strength and resilience." Lo'ak looked up at her and gave her a sheepish little smile. But Neteyam took a step forward, positioning himself between his brother and their potential new host.

"I'm sorry, my brother didn't mean to stare at you." Tsora chuckled and put a hand on Neteyam's shoulder.

"I understand. But please don't feel like you have to apologize. I'm proud of who I am, scars and all." Neteyam nodded and offered her a genuine smile. Tsora watched Jake and Neytiri's children with a knowing look, then turned to Awte.

“These children will play a crucial role in the future of Pandora. We must protect them and guide them on their journey." The olo'ektan nodded, understanding the gravity of his tsakarem's words. He thus heartily agreed to offer shelter and safety to the Sully family. But Tsora wasn't done yet.

"Welcome, Kiri," Tsora said, her voice filled with the same benevolence she had shown the others. "I've heard a lot about you, it's an honor to meet you."

Kiri blushed slightly at this attention, but smiled back at the young woman. Tsora extended her hand to Kiri, who took it, feeling a wave of warmth and understanding flow between them. "I hope you find your stay with us enjoyable," the tsakarem added. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you," Kiri said, her eyes shining with gratitude.

As Jake and his family followed the young woman and the other warriors into the clan village, Kiri couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging and acceptance. She was eager to learn more about their way of life.

Finding their bearings in the large hut provided for them, Tsora took advantage of this moment away from the gaze of others to inform them of the speedy progress of their stay.

"Tomorrow night is the great gathering, and I'm expecting you to participate." The young woman began, helping Tuk unfold what looked like a blanket. "The ceremony is usually held in two parts, the first where we resolve the conflicts of the year and thank the great mother for all she has given us. And a second, more private one." She then turned to Neteyam, then to Jake.

"The Olo'ektan will probably want to fight with you, Jake. It's usually for the leader to show his bravery, and what could be more prestigious than a fight against Toruk Makto himself." Jake glanced at Neytiri, who seemed to disapprove of the idea. But his mate wanted more than anything to fit in with the clan, and if he had to do it by fighting, then so be it. He then promised Tsora not to hit too hard, to which she replied that he didn't have to hold back and that seeing his mate damaged only made the second part of the evening better.

The Sully's took their time to settle in and explore their surroundings. Contrary to their expectations, the Kameyoan were particularly courteous to them, waving whenever they passed them or dropping a smile here and there. Neteyam and Lo'ak stood at the edge of the training area, watching Awte practice his spear techniques. The Olo'ektan of the Kameyoan clan moved with fluid, practiced ease, his hunting weapon becoming a blur as he spun and swung, dodging and parrying with a grace and precision that left Neteyam and Lo'ak in awe.

But as they watched, they noticed that Awte wasn't using a regular spear. Instead, he was wielding a long, curved staff adorned with intricate carvings and symbols. The staff seemed to shimmer and glow in the sunlight, as if it was imbued with a power greater than ordinary weapons.

"What is this?" asked Lo'ak, his eyes fixed on the stick.

"It is the 'Fury of Eywa,'" Neteyam whispered, his voice filled with awe. "It is a weapon wielded only by the most skilled and respected warriors of the Kameyoan clan. It is said to be imbued with the spirit of Eywa herself."

As if sensing their presence, Awte stopped and turned to the two young men. He smiled, his teeth glinting white in the sunlight. "Would you like to try your hand at this game?" he challenged, motioning for them to come closer.

Neteyam and Lo'ak hesitated, giving each other uncertain looks. They had never held a weapon like the "Fury of Eywa" before, and they weren't sure they were ready for such a challenge. But Awte's kind and encouraging smile gave them the courage to step forward. "Come," he said, motioning for them to come closer. "I'll show you the basics."

Neteyam and Lo'ak hesitantly approached, their hearts racing with excitement and nervousness. The leader greeted them with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Don't worry," he said, seeing the uncertain expression on their faces. "I'll take it easy on you."

And so Awte began to teach them the basic techniques for wielding the "Fury of Eywa. He showed them how to grip the stick, how to balance their weight and how to harness the power of Eywa to strike down their enemies. As they trained, Awte corrected their mistakes and gave them tips on how to improve their form.

Neteyam and Lo'ak found themselves caught up in the excitement of training, and they began to feel a sense of pride and accomplishment as they improved under Awte's guidance.

"You're starting to get the hang of it," he said as he watched Neteyam and Lo'ak spar. "You're both natural warriors." Neteyam and Lo'ak smiled at each other, their faces flushed with excitement and sweat.

At the same time, on the other side of the island, Kiri and her sister Tuktirey were walking along the beach, their bare feet sinking into the warm, fine sand as their attentions were drawn to laughter and chatter. Following the sounds, they came upon a small group of children gathered around the clan tsakarem. The two girls watched in fascination as Tsora addressed the children, her hands moving in a series of graceful, fluid gestures. It took Kiri a few minutes, however, to realize that she was actually communicating with her little interlocutors in sign language.

Indeed, as Kiri and Tuk got closer, they noticed that the children all had one thing in common, they had no ears. The elder's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she tried to figure out what could have caused such a malformation.

"Come and join us," Tsora called out to them as she beckoned them over, her hands still moving quickly. The two girls hesitated for a moment, unsure if they were really welcome. But eventually they went towards the group. Kiri couldn't help but wonder more about the lack of an orifice and found the courage to ask the question.

"What happened to the children's ears?" she asked, her hands shaking slightly.

Tsora's face suddenly saddened as she explained that the children had suffered deformities from the use of gas by the sky people during their last settlements on Pandora. Many mothers or mothers-to-be had inhaled the gas without knowing it. Kiri's eyes widened with shock and horror. She could not even imagine the pain and suffering that these children and their families had endured.

Tuktirey, who had been listening quietly, suddenly spoke up. "Where are their mothers?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

Tsora smiled and gestured to the nearby trees. "They are right there, picking fruit," she replied. "Do you want to go meet them?"

Tuktirey nodded enthusiastically and darted toward the trees, leaving Kiri and the tsakarem alone on the beach. Tsora turned to Kiri and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know this is hard to understand," she added. "But it's important to remember that these children are not alone. They are part of our clan, and we will always stand by them and support them."

Kiri nodded, feeling a sense of determination and resolve growing inside her. She knew there was a lot of work to be done to heal the wounds the sky people had inflicted on Pandora, but she was willing to do her part.

Although they had already made up their minds about the clan they had moved into, the Sully's only real understanding of the Kameyoan came through the Great Gathering ceremony.

As the sun began to set, members of the Kameyoan clan gathered for the annual Great Gathering. Huts had been set up around the main beach, and the smell of grilled meat and sweet fruit filled the air. Children ran and played, laughing and chasing each other, while adults chatted and caught up with each other. In the center of the beach, a large fire had been lit in honor of Eywa, and a group of musicians played lively tunes on their drums and flutes. The Na'vi were dancing and singing, their spirits lifted by the joy and celebration.

Jake stood aside, watching the scene with a mixture of curiosity and pride. He had brought his family to the Kameyoan clan in search of a new home, and he was encouraged to see how welcoming and inclusive they were. His sons, Neteyam and Lo'ak, had gone to explore the island with a group of young Na'vi, while his daughter, Kiri, had been drawn into a conversation with Tsora, the companion of the clan leader, Awte.

As the father of the family continued to watch, a commotion broke out near the blaze. A group of men had gathered around Awte, who was holding an "Eywa's fury" and looked fierce and determined. Jake's eyebrows rose as he realized Awte was challenging him to a fight. Then he remembered Tsora's words, and he knew he could not back down from a challenge. He stepped forward and accepted Awte's challenge, drawing his own hunting spear and preparing to fight. The two men turned to each other, their eyes locked in a fierce stare. Awte was a formidable opponent, his movements quick and precise as he struck. But Jake was not to be outdone, a former marine, he parried and dodged with ease, his own spear just a blur of motion. The crowd cheered and applauded the fighters, their eyes riveted on the fight. Neytiri, on the other hand, stood back, eyes squinting as she watched her companion take on the leader of the Kameyoan clan. She knew that Jake was a skilled warrior, but she also knew that Awte was not one to be underestimated.

As the fight progressed, it became clear that Awte was holding his own against Jake. He was strong and fast, his movements graceful and fluid. But Jake was fighting with all the ferocity of a Toruk Makto. Yet the fight looked like it could go either way.

As the fight between Jake and Awte reached its climax, the entire clan held its breath. Both men were bruised and sweaty, but they refused to back down. Finally, it was Jake who struck the final blow, his spear striking Awte's shoulder and knocking him to the ground.

The clansmen cheered and applauded, their respect for Jake's skill and strength evident on their faces. Awte, too, smiled as he stood up, his pride in his opponent's victory evident.

"You are a worthy opponent, Jake Sully," he said, his voice full of admiration. "It's an honor to have fought you today."

As the eclipse plunged the beach into darkness, Tsora stood up before addressing the crowd.

"It's time for us to leave for the other side of the island," she began, her voice carrying across the beach. "The children must stay here or return to their huts, as the rest of the ceremony is for adults only."

Neytiri nodded, her children gathered around her. "It has been a long day. Neteyam, I'm counting on you to watch over your brother and sisters. It is time for you to retire for the night." The young man nodded, a serious expression on his face as he took upon himself the responsibility of watching his adelphs. But, curious, Lo'ak, could not resist the temptation to find out what was happening on the other side of the island. He asked no permission, only telling his brother that he would try to reach the beach to observe the rest of the ceremony. Neteyam, as the responsible older brother, tried to stop him, but Lo'ak was determined.

"Come, Neteyam," he said, his eyes shining with excitement. "We won't be gone long, I promise. And besides, I need you to watch my back."

Neteyam hesitated, his instincts telling him to stay and watch over Tuk, who had already fallen asleep. But he knew Lo'ak was stubborn, and would not be easily swayed. He sighed and nodded, his own sense of adventure taking over.

"Fine," he said, his voice full of resignation. "But if anything happens, it will be your fault." Lo'ak smiled, his heart suddenly racing. He hadn't expected Neteyam to accept so easily, and he was grateful for his brother's support. As the two boys made their way to the other side of the island, Kiri stepped out of the shadows.

"Where are you guys going?" she asked.

Lo'ak turned and smiled mischievously at her. "We are going to join the adults for the second part of the celebration. Do you want to come with us?" Just like Neteyam before her, Kiri hesitated. But the thought of missing the fun was too much to bear, and she nodded.

"I'm in," she said, her voice full of determination. "But we have to be careful, and we have to be back before Mom notices we're gone."

And so the three young Na'vi set off across the island, their hearts filled with excitement and adventure. Together they watched in wonder as the second part of the ritual took place. Hidden behind some greenery, they were out of sight but had a clear view of the beach. From their vantage point, they saw the crowd of Na'vi split in two, creating a path between the beach and the sea.

Tsora emerged from the crowd, her slender form stripped of its meager finery. She walked down the path, her back to her people and her eyes fixed on the vastness of the ocean. As she walked, the vegetation beneath her feet seemed to light up with each step, evidence of her deep connection to Eywa.

A few minutes later, Awte emerged from the crowd, his own body stripped bare. He walked down the path and joined his mate in the water, placing his hands on her hips as he recited a mating prayer. Both seemed lost in their own world, their bond with Eywa strong and unbreakable.

The drums echoed and the shouts of the Na'vi filled the air, the sound echoing across the island and stirring something deep within the young spectators. They watched as Awte and Tsora performed their ritual, their bodies moving in unison to celebrate their love and bond with Eywa.

As the ceremony continued, more and more clan members joined their leaders in the water to perform their own rituals. Lo'ak, Neteyam, and Kiri watched in fascination, their hearts pounding with excitement and fear. They knew they were witnessing something special and sacred, and they were grateful to be a part of it, even if it was only in the shadows.

Tag -> @eywas-heir

#avatar #avatar the way of water #awow #jake sully #avatar imagine #avatar imagines #jake sully imagine #neytiri #neytiri imagine #neteyam #neteyam imagine #lo'ak #lo'ak imagine #kiri #kiri imagine #tuk #tuktirey #tuktirey imagine

[thelastspeecher]

Look I'm as shocked as you that I'm posting ANOTHER Foster Ford AU ficlet, but what can I say? I had a lot of time to write today and I was inspired to write more Foster Ford stuff, so I did that. Here's the introduction of the daughter Stan didn't realize he had, @agent-jaselin's OC, Molly. Happy Sunday.

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              Molly followed the CPS officer up to the house her dad lived in.  It was going to be an adjustment, for sure.  She’d lived her entire life in an apartment, for one thing.  The house had light gray siding, a well-manicured lawn, and a thriving flower garden in front.  Molly slowed to look at the flowers more closely.

              Whose are those?  My stepmom’s?  Molly was apprehensive about meeting her dad’s wife, but if she gardened, maybe she would be willing to let Molly join her.  Or at least tell me what the different plants are.  The CPS officer, a tall, middle-aged, red-haired man, rang the doorbell.  After a few moments, the door opened to reveal a young boy.  The boy was wearing blue shorts, a T-shirt with a UFO on it, and glasses even Molly could tell was thick.  Judging by his twelve fingers and large ruddy nose, features Molly also had, he was the cousin Molly had been told about.

              They didn’t say how old he was.  But he’s gotta be close to my age.  The boy blinked owlishly at the two people on the doorstep.  The CPS officer smiled at him.

              “Hello, Stanford.  Is your uncle home?” he asked.  Before the boy, Stanford, could answer, a man appeared in the doorway.  He scowled at Stanford.

              “Ford, how many times do I have to tell you?  You can’t answer the door on your own!” he scolded.  His New Jersey accent immediately reminded Molly of her mom.  Stanford hid behind the man’s legs.  The man looked at the CPS officer.  He paled.  “Uh.  Something wrong?”

              “Why would there be something wrong, Stan?” the CPS officer asked.  The man, Stan, laughed awkwardly and ran his hand through his thick, curly brown hair.

              Just like mine.  Molly cast a side-eyed glance at Stanford.  And just like his, too.

              “Just my instinct when I see any sorta cop, y’know?” he said, trying to sound lighthearted.  But Molly could hear the anxiety in his voice he was trying to hide.  “Ford’s really happy here and Angie and I love having him.  We don’t want to lose him.”

              “Oh, I’m not here to take Stanford away from you!” the CPS officer said.  Stan’s shoulders drooped in relief.  “I’m here to drop off Molly.”

              “…Molly?”

              “Yes.  Your daughter.”

              “I don’t have a daughter.”

              “You do.  With Carla McCorkle.”

              “I…huh?”  Stan seemed blindsided.  The CPS officer gently nudged Molly so that she was in front of him, rather than behind him.  Stan stared at her, taking in her features.  When he got to her six-fingered hands, his mouth dropped open.  “I- I’ve got a kid with Carla?” he said weakly.

              “This shouldn’t be a surprise,” the CPS officer said.  He looked down at his notepad.  “We called a few days ago and spoke to Angie on the phone.”

              “Oh, shoot.”  Stan sighed.  “Angie’s been crazy busy with work and school lately.  She must’ve written it down and forgotten to tell me about the note or whatever.”  He paused.  “So, uh, does Carla suddenly wanna share custody or something?”

              “We were actually hoping you would take full custody of Molly.”

              “Full custody?  Why?”  Stan’s eyes widened.  “Carla isn’t- she’s not dead, is she?”

              “No, she isn’t,” the CPS officer said.  “But she has decided to give up her parental rights to Molly for, um, personal reasons.”  Molly scowled.

              That’s a fancy way to say she got sick of me.  Stan seemed to pick up on the euphemism as well.  A sour look settled on his face.

              “Mind sharing what those personal reasons were?” he asked.

              “She felt she couldn’t tend to Molly’s needs anymore.”

              “I see.”  Stan chewed on his lip, thinking.  “I mean, I’m not gonna leave my kid on the streets.  Even if I just found out about her.  Come on in.  We’ll iron out the details.”  He stood to the side, allowing the CPS officer and Molly to come in.  Molly looked at her surroundings carefully, trying to piece together what she could from the décor.  Like the yard outside, everything was tidy.

              Probably ‘cause of my stepmom, since Mom said my dad’s a messy person.  She followed the adults into a kitchen.  The kitchen table had piles of paperwork on it, but it seemed to be an organized mess.  A few photographs, a mixture of people and animals, hung on the walls.  They said my stepmom is getting a doctorate in biology.  Maybe she took the pictures.  All Molly knew about her stepmom was what CPS had told her.  She knew a bit more about her dad, thanks to her mom telling her stories, but even that was probably outdated.  For one thing, CPS said her dad was a gym teacher, and her mom thought he didn’t even graduate high school.

              “We can talk in here,” Stan said.  He looked down at Stanford, still clinging to his legs.  “Why don’t you go play for a bit?” he suggested.  He carefully pried Stanford off and nudged him towards the adjacent living room.  Stanford reluctantly did as he was told, wandering out of the kitchen.  Stan, Molly, and the CPS officer sat at the kitchen table, Stan across from Molly and the CPS officer.

              “If you are hesitant to take Molly, due to having your hands full with Stanford, we understand.  We can place her with someone else,” the CPS officer said.

              “Like who?” Stan asked.  “My mom?  Shermie?”

              “Your mother and brother aren’t licensed foster parents yet, so while Molly might eventually end up with them, she’d start off with an unrelated foster family.  Given her intelligence, she’d likely be placed with Stanford’s first foster family.”

              “What?”  Stan shook his head.  “No!  Sure, Wyatt and Madeline are great, but she’s got family who can take care of her.  She’ll stay with us unless she decides she wants to stay with someone else.”  Molly felt her shoulders slump in relief.  Part of her had worried she would be pawned off over and over again.  Stan looked at her with a weak smile.  “You’re a smarty-pants, huh?”

              “Very much so,” the CPS officer said.  “We recommend enrolling her in the same school as Stanford.”

              “Sure.  What grade will she be in?”

              “First grade.”

              “Like Ford.”  Stan looked at Molly again.  “How old are you?”

              “Six.”

              “Like Ford again.  When’s your birthday?”

              “November twelfth.  I turn seven this year.”

              “Ford’s birthday is April twenty-second.”

              “So he’s younger than me,” Molly said.  Stan nodded.  “He’s my cousin, right?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan crossed his arms and glanced away.  “He’s my twin brother’s kid.”  He frowned.  “And he’s about your size, so until we get a chance to run to the store, you two might have to share some clothes.”  Molly shrugged.  She couldn’t care less about sharing clothes.  All she cared about was staying out of dresses and skirts.

              And they probably don’t have any of those for Stanford.

              “Do you have a room Molly will be able to stay in?” the CPS officer asked.

              “We’ve got a coupla extra rooms.  Angie and I will talk about which one we give to Molly, but until then, she can stay in the guest room,” Stan said.

              “I get my own room?” Molly asked.  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “Uh, yeah.  I’m not gonna make you stay with Ford.  Kids need their space.”

              “We have a few more things to discuss for Molly’s residence with you,” the CPS officer said, “as well as some paperwork you’ll need to sign.”  He began to place manila folders on the table.  “And it would be a good idea to go over how this situation will be different than fostering Stanford.”

              “I don’t see why it would be different,” Stan said with a shrug.  “They’re the same age and I’m taking care of them.”

              “Legally, this will be different,” the CPS officer clarified.  “I understand you plan to pursue formally adopting Stanford, but you are still technically his foster parent.  However, you are Molly’s legal parent.”

              “If we’re gonna talk legal things, then I might wanna call my lawyer.”

              “Feel free to,” the CPS officer said.  “Actually, it’s probably a good idea.”  He looked at Molly.  “Did you bring your book with you when we came in?” he asked.  Molly nodded.  “Maybe you could join Stanford in the living room while your father and I get the finer details figured out.”

              “If you don’t wanna read, Ford’s got some LEGOs that he’ll share if you ask,” Stan suggested.  Molly shook her head.

              “I’ll read my book,” she said.  She slid off her chair and went into the living room.  The coffee table in front of the light brown sofa was, much like the kitchen table, covered in paperwork.  Molly skimmed the words on the papers, but it seemed to be incredibly technical scientific terminology.  She couldn’t understand much of it.  There was a meow from behind her, startling her.  She turned.  A multi-colored cat sat on the sofa, watching her, tail twitching idly.

              “That’s Dr. Whiskers,” Stanford said.  Molly turned her head.  Her cousin was sitting in the corner, building something with LEGOs.  He smiled, but it was clearly forced.  “He’s a nice cat, don’t worry.  He might try to eat your food, but Aunt Angie and Uncle Stan are working on that.  And he makes up for it by snuggling really well at night.”

              “…Good to know, I guess,” Molly mumbled.  She climbed onto the couch next to Dr. Whiskers.  Dr. Whiskers promptly began to rub against her, purring loudly.

              “Ford, check if Molly wants a drink or a snack,” Stan called from the kitchen.  Stanford looked at Molly.

              “Did you hear him?” he asked.

              “Duh.”

              “Do- do you want a snack or drink?” Stanford asked timidly.  Molly shrugged.

              “I guess.”

              “Do you have any allergies?”

              “No.”  Molly frowned at him.  “Do you?”

              “No, but Aunt Angie does, so she likes to check with guests,” Stanford said.  Molly bristled.

              “I’m not a guest,” she said firmly, crossing her arms.  “I’ve got as much of a right to be here as you.”  Stanford opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.  He rubbed the back of his neck.

              “You’re right,” he mumbled.  He got up.  “I’ll get some juice or something.”  Molly watched him go into the kitchen.  As he walked past the table, Stan ruffled Stanford’s hair, making him smile.  Molly frowned.  She could feel herself getting jealous of the affection her father was showing towards her cousin.  But that wasn’t a surprise.  When she found out her father was fostering a different kid already, she suspected she’d have to compete for attention from him.

              I didn’t think my competition would be so much like me, though.  And so weird!  Stanford came back.  He placed an apple juice box on the coffee table, smiled awkwardly, and returned to his LEGOs.  Molly opened her book but couldn’t focus.  She kept glancing at Stanford sitting in the corner, building some sort of structure.  There’s something off about him.  I don’t know what it is, but I’m gonna figure it out.

#Gravity Falls #Gravity Falls AU #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Molly Pines #Foster Ford AU #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks #should I space it out and post this like tomorrow or something? maybe #but I'm excited that I got this done today so I'm posting it TODAY #(rip in peace to my multichaps which I should've worked on today instead of this)

[rivaere-queen]

Rivaereri Winter Wonderland Day 1

Eren sat on his couch, twiddling his thumbs as he stared at his cell phone on the coffee table. His nerves were shot, but he knew if he didn’t do it, he would regret it for the rest of his life. High school was supposed to be fun, and as a freshman, he needed to get out there!

Reaching down, he grabbed his phone and let his fingers do all the work.

9:18pm: My parents are gone for the night. Do you wanna come over?

With a squeal, he threw his phone down and hid his face in his hands, rocking back and forth. He just knew he was blushing a furious red. As he looked up, he saw the snow falling on the ground, painting the scenery in a beautiful white. 

Winter was his favourite season, and not only because of the snow. As an Omega, his body temperature always ran a bit higher than others, and the chill in the air was gratifying on his skin. The beautiful holidays were a plus, as Christmas was the best holiday, in his humble opinion. 

His phone dinged next to him, and with a jump, Eren reached out to grab it. Unlocking the device, he huffed in excitement at the response.

9:22pm: Send the address. On the way.

The freshman squirmed in his seat as he typed his address, sending the message. Jumping up from his seat, Eren ran towards the kitchen to grab the materials needed. Placing a box on the tray resting on the counter, he sprinted around, grabbing chocolate frosting and different candies.

The entire ordeal took about twenty minutes, and by the time everything was set out just the way he wanted, the doorbell rang. Nervousness shot down into the pit of the Omega’s stomach as he scrambled towards the front door. He stood for a moment, straightening his hair and clothes before opening the entryway.

On his front steps, a short and muscular Alpha lounged against one of the columns. His pale skin was illuminated by ebony hair framed perfectly around his face. His undercut was exquisite, a unique look that only he could pull off. His thin lips were pulled into a mischievous smirk, cobalt eyes locked on the Omega’s body.

“Hey, Eren…”

Said Omega felt his face flush even further as he shyly opened the door to let the older boy in. 

“H-Hi, Levi…”

Levi Ackerman was the most sought after Alpha in their high school. As a senior, he practically ran the school and he knew it. All the Omegas, and even Betas wanted him, and if the rumors were true, Levi could definitely hold himself down in the bed.

That wasn’t what Eren wanted though. He thought Levi was a cool person, and was absolutely fascinated with him. It could be that he admired the older boy, considering their age difference, but the Omega wanted to get past the cool exterior and get to know the real Levi.

Those thoughts ran through his head as the Alpha brushed past him, removing his shoes while looking around. He seemed to be impressed, which made Eren happy. Grabbing a pale hand, he momentarily marveled at how rough and long the fingers were before pulling him towards the living room.

“Sit here!”

Eren eagerly pushed Levi down onto the couch, making sure his senior was settled before running back into the kitchen. He grabbed the tray with his goodies and brought it out, laying it on the coffee table. 

“I thought we could make…gingerbread houses?”

The tray had a box of materials needed, plus other candy and frosting to help decorate. Levi raised an eyebrow, the request seeming to be foreign for such a late night meet up.

“You…want to build gingerbread houses…this late at night?” The Omega looked down, squirming in his spot. His excitement seemed to dwindle as he realized how childish the request was. He had never done anything like this, and had hoped to further his friendship with the Alpha.

“Well, yeah. I-uh, I figured it could be fun…”

Seeing that pretty face seem so down all of a sudden didn’t sit right in Levi’s stomach. Shrugging his jacket off, he knelt down on the ground and started messing with the box that held all the materials. 

“Hmph. If you say so.” With a squeal of happiness, Eren plopped down right next to him. The boy chattered a mile a minute, not even realizing that the Alpha had fully relinquished control to him. For the next half hour, they chatted while the Omega built the house, only receiving minimal assistance from the older boy next to him.

The entire time, Levi watched the cute, little Omega, unable to resist the urge to touch. He left brief touches on Eren’s thick thighs, each one landing higher and higher only to be shyly brushed off. It was a tad frustrating, seeing as he had come here thinking he would get easy access to the desirable youth that most of the upperclassmen wanted.

At some point, a glob of chocolate frosting landed on the boy’s chin without him realizing it. Deciding to chance it, Levi brushed some of it away with his thumb, pulling Eren’s face closer to his. The Omega froze, gorgeous emerald eyes wide as they stared at each other. Their faces were so close that their breaths mingled, and with a smirk, the Alpha leaned forward to lick the remaining frosting off.

A squeak left Eren’s lips at the feeling of wetness against his face, heat flooding into his body. He pulled back a bit, looking down at where Levi smacked and licked at his own lips.

“Hmm…tastes even better than I thought. Wanna try?”

After a moment, the freshman nodded, watching as the older boy reached out to dip his finger into the frosting. Bringing the sweetness to his mouth, he licked it off before leaning forward and capturing Eren’s lips. He easily slid his tongue into the Omega’s mouth, sharing the delicacy of the chocolate between them.

A moan left the boy’s lips at the utter filth of the situation, unable to stop himself from placing his hands on Levi’s shoulders. In turn, the Alpha slid his own hands under Eren’s thighs, easily picking him up and pulling him onto his lap. With the Omega now straddling him, his fingers groped and grabbed at whatever skin he could touch.

Their lips collided in a sloppy, brown mess, chocolate stained spit sliding down their chins. It was purely erotic, an addiction Levi had never had before. He was rock hard in his pants, and feeling Eren’s heat from his cunt so close was setting him on edge with desire. 

Large hands found their way under the boy’s shirt, touching the flawless skin that was hidden from him. The Alpha ripped the shirt off, disconnecting their lips for only a moment before latching onto a pretty, rosy nipple that was now right in front of him.

Eren threw his head back with a moan, unused to such feelings. His pussy dripped, grinding down onto Levi’s clothed cock. He was shivering with wanton need, unable to stop the sighs and coos that fell from his bruised lips. Chocolate was all over his chest from the sloppy suction that the Alpha gave him, making him a sticky mess, but it was exhilarating. 

Levi could feel how pliant Eren was in his hands, almost like putty, and with a strength only an Alpha could muster, he lifted the boy up and laid him on the couch. The Omega painted such a delectable picture, spread out on the dark sofa with a crimson flush to his tanned skin. It made the senor’s mouth water with want.

Reaching over, Levi grabbed more frosting, applying it to the hardened nubs on Eren’s chest. He was quick to reattach himself, sucking and cleaning while his other hand fondled the other, neglected nipple. Each of the Omega’s moans went straight to his cock, which furiously throbbed in his pants.

Never had he paid such attention to any of his partners before, but somehow, this little Omega was different. Levi wanted to hear each sound that spilled forth from those pretty lips, wanted to sit and study the gorgeous body beneath him until Eren was sobbing from overstimulation. The thought had him sucking particularly harshly against the boy’s chest.

With a loud cry of straight lewdness, Eren’s pants suddenly soaked against his cock. Levi pulled back in shock, staring down as the Omega hid his face behind his hands.

“I-I’m so sorry! I couldn’t, I couldn’t stop it!” In that moment, the Alpha was suddenly struck with the realization of just how pure Eren really was, making his heart skip a beat. The boy laid there so cutely, shamed at cumming just from having his nipples played with. It made Levi smile, unknowingly smiling down at the freshman.

Levi laid his body down next to Eren’s, placing a hand on the slightly chubby belly and rubbing. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the Omega, even when the boy looked away. A smaller, tanned hand attempted to reach for his clothed cock, but the senior was quick to stop it.

“B-But…” Eren whipped his head to stare at the Alpha, fingers reaching out. “Don’t you need…”

All he received was a shake of the head and a gentle kiss from Levi.

“Nah. This…this is good.” And for once, he truly meant it. In their brief time together, Levi decided he would do whatever he could to worship the Omega that laid next to him. No one else was allowed to see this pure side of Eren, it would only be reserved for him from now on.

The bright smile that greeted him during the snowy night only further proved his need to harvest the goodness for himself. It was strange really. He came here thinking he would easily get laid, but instead, he found his heart racing for this young Omega…

All because of a gingerbread house…

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#rivaere #riren #eren jaeger #levi ackerman #rivaereriwinterwonderland

[silentprincessandsweethibiscus]

Four Minus one: Fours got more secrets than most, and they’re not too keen to give them up to just anyone. Nothing about the smallest member of the Links is as it seems, but if the right person asks, at just the right time, they may just unravel a little bit more of the puzzle.

Chapter one- Come Back With a Warrant: Despite being warned that all was not what it seemed with the hero of this era the Links are still in for more surprises than they bargained for. Convincing them to join will prove to be a whole side quest, and the surprises will not stop there. im finally posting it! chapter two is mostly done, will be ready by next saturday, and the chapter im posting the saturday after that is done, so i think its safe to say that i can have an, at least mostly, consistent schedule for the time being!

Time was concerned that they had gotten the wrong house, and judging by the shuffling of some of his companions he wasn't the only one. The windows were dark despite it being early evening, the garden was starting to become overtaken by weeds and overgrowth, and there was a sign on the door to the forge saying that the owners were out of the country for business. Had the Princess Zelda of this era not sent them here herself, he would assume they had been sent here on a wild cucco chase. However, as it stood, the Princess's warning of "All is not as it seems," was making more sense by the second. Whatever the reason for their newest companion to leave his house in such a state, it was not because it was vacant. No noise could be heard from in the house as the group approached, but Wild perked their ears, telling Time that there must be something inside. The unspoken leader of the group finished the walk up the slightly overgrown path and knocked on the door, waiting a few moments before knocking again, slightly louder.

A few moments later movement could be heard from inside, and a slightly raspy voice called out, “Coming! Coming,” A pause as the door swung open and a young boy, looking no older than twelve or thirteen opened the door, “Whatever the Princess sent you for had better be important, I have a lot of work to do.” He looked up and Time was able to see the boy's face clearly. He had eye bags that could rival the vets, his hair was in a messy braid, and he was very pale. Hell, if the older Link didn’t know any better, between the boy’s appearance and the state his home was in, Time would swear this boy was a ghost. “You lot don’t look like knights? Did Do- er, Princess Zelda send you? Or are you here for the forge? It's closed at the moment I'm afraid.”

Time wasn’t sure who exactly this boy was, he looked younger than Wind, and though Time knew age was no determining factor on how capable a hero was, he hoped for his sake that this boy was not Link. A relative perhaps. Younger brother, or son, hopefully. He cleared his throat and went into business mode regardless. “We are not knights, we are traveling heroes, looking for the hero of this land, to ask him for assistance in defeating a great evil. Her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda, was kind enough to give us directions here. If Link is here we would greatly appreciate an audience with him, to discuss the matter at hand.”

The pleasant, but all business smile Time gave the boy was met with a scowl, and the older hero watched as several emotions ranging from anger, to sadness, to regret, and finally determination settled on the boy's face. “I am very sorry, but you have been misled, Link is dead.” And leaving no room for further discussion on the matter he shut the door in Times face.

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Legend coughed out a laugh, and spoke up. “Well then, I’d say that went well. Damn I really wish I had thought of that one when you lot came to pick me up.”

Hyrule raised an eyebrow at her, as they turned. "What do you mean by that?"

“Well, that was definitely Link, yea?” Sky pondered in response.

Time sighed, leading the group back the direction they came, towards the castle. “I’d say so, yes. He looked young, and tired, I don’t blame him for turning us away.”

“What’s the plan now then? Go talk to Princess Zelda again?” Twilight was practically  dragging Wild away as he spoke, the younger not wanting to give up so easily.

"Well, she did warn us that this might be a difficult task,” Warriors matched stride with Time at the front “Maybe we have to find a way to convince him ourselves.”

Hyrule hummed in thought. "What if he really is dead? What if he's a ghost?"

"Then I vote we leave the poor kid alone. Hylia knows that when it's all over for me I have no intention of doing more work. Let me, or in this case, him, rest."

Wind shook his head at Rulie and Legend. "No, he wasn't a ghost. Although I think I can second that notion."

"Agreed." Twilight gave his mentor a pained look as Time spoke up. "The only thing that should come for the dead is rest."

“Excuse me! Young men!” The group's heads turned towards the voice, and they were met with a castle guard, looking to be in his early forties, on a horse that looked suspiciously like Epona. He slowed his stead to a stop alongside Time and Warriors. “Ah good. Hello! The Princess informed me there was a group of young Heroes looking for Link.”

“Yes, that would be us. Time.” Time moved to take the stranger's outstretched hand to shake. 

“Are you him? We were led to believe we would be unsuccessful in finding him.”

The man chuckled, a fond smile gracing his lips. “I’d bet you where. But no, I am not Link. I am their father, Jol. Her Majesty's Head Guard. I do wonder what excuse my child gave this time. They are very busy with something, and would rather not step away if it’s not official business.”

“They told us, and I quote, ‘Link is dead’ and then shut the door in the old man's face.” Legend bumped her shoulder against Times arm as she spoke.

“Ah, a classic I see. They’ve tried using it on a few of the other guards,” Jol sighed, “As if those men didn’t all either help me raise them, or grew up with them themselves.” He looked over the whole group. “Interesting party you’ve got going on here though. Tell me, what exactly do you need Link for? Hylia knows they don’t need my permission to save Hyrule, again, but they won’t leave their current project without some kind of official order, so you might as well get it from me.”

Warriors spoke up this time, nudging Legend back out of the way as he did. “This may seem a bit strange.”

“I have seen Link do plenty of strange things at this point, I doubt you could truly shock me.”

“My name is Link, but all the heroes behind me call me Warriors. We are all heroes, from different eras, pulled together through time itself to stop a great threat to Hyrule.” Warriors paused to gauge Jol’s reaction, and to his credit the man seemed to be taking it well, save for a raised eyebrow. “We hope for the extra assistance your Link could lend us, but if they truly do not wish to come there is nothing we could, or would be willing to do, to make them. It is solely their choice.”

Jol sighed, and nodded his head back towards the house they had come from before encouraging his stead back into a walk. “Choices and orders be damned, they are a hero through and through. Once they actually hear you out they will be packing their bags before I can even get my two rupees into the conversation. Tell me honestly though, is this to do with Vaati?”

Wind tilted his head to the side. “Who’s Vaati?”

It was Legend who responded however. “Your child is the Hero of the Four Sword then? Fought Vaati three times before they finally managed to kill the mage. You must be early in Hyrule’s history.”

Jol’s answering smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he nodded nonetheless. “Yes. I am glad to hear this doesn’t seem to have anything to do with him. Link lost something very dear to them during their last fight, and I’d hate to know they’d have to face him again knowing it's still gone.”

Arriving back at the house Jol tied his horse to the fence before leading his guests into his kids house. There was light in the living room now, the fireplace and a few lanterns having been lit. They could hear shuffling in the kitchen and the young boy called out as soon as the door closed behind them. “Welcome back. Since father has deemed you trustworthy, feel free to sit anywhere. How many of you are there?”

Time herded his rascals into the sitting area as he responded. “Including your father, there are nine of us. I hope we aren't overcrowding you.”

“Nine? Hylia, there are eight of you.” The last part was mumbled out and hard to hear over the sound of pottery clinking together, as the newest Link stepped out with a tea tray with enough cups to accommodate everyone. “Might as well have invited all of Hyrule town. Again.”

Jol cleared a spot on the coffee table for Link to set down the tea.“Please, help yourselves. Now,” He turned back to his child, “I know you are busy, but would you at least hear these nice young heroes out?”

Link sat down on the armchair nearest the exit, carefully moving the large book that had prevented any of the others from sitting there. “No, because if I hear them out then I have to go with them. You know this.”

There was a hearty chuckle from Jol, and this time his smile did reach his eyes. “The floor is all yours.”

Time nodded in thanks, and set down his tea. “As I stated the last time we spoke, We are traveling heroes, looking for the hero of this land for their assistance in defeating a great evil. What we did not have time to explain is who we are. I am Link, the Hero of Time. The others call me Time, or Old Man, to keep things from being confusing, as we are all named Link. Something is pulling us together from different points in Hyrule’s history. We do not know fully what threat we are up against yet, but it appears someone has decided we are all needed to stop this.”

There was silence as Link seemed to study Time, trying to decide if he was telling the truth or not. Finally, with a nod and large sigh, they stood. “Well that certainly explains why that one seems to be wearing a sailcloth similar to our founder's prized garment. I’m guessing that’s not a replica.” When Sky nodded in affirmation they spoke again, “And is it safe to assume your problem has something to do with these portals that have been plaguing our neighbors?” 

“The very same. One of them brought us here as well.” Warriors agreed with the young hero. With all the confirmation they needed, Link turned around and headed for the stairs.

There were a few murmurs of confusion, mostly from Wind, Wild, and Hyrule, but Jol quickly put them at ease with a smile. “Well, that went well. Give them a few moments to pack the things they don't keep ready to go.”

Hyrule caught Wind's teacup as the sailor doubled over in laughter. “Man! I thought you guys were kidding about how fast they would change their mind!” Several other Links joined in his laughter, excited to get to know their newest companion.

It really hadn't taken long for their newest companion to pack their things, and with them ready to go they quickly made introductions, Link quickly and easily accepted the nickname Four, taken from the hero title Legend had identified them with earlier. They wished their father farewell, asking him to deliver the news of what they were off to do to Princess Zelda and some other friends of theirs while cleaning up the tea set. After leading the others out and locking up the house they took stride next to Time, easily keeping up with the other despite their much smaller stature.

“So,” Twilight took place right behind them, with Warriors to his left, “Where we off to kid?”

“I guarantee you I am not as young as you think.” Time was the only one who could see Four glaring ahead of him at the comment, but they continued on regardless. “And as for your question, you lot said this is something to do with those portals, so we are heading to where the largest concentration of them have been. We’ve even seen a few strange monsters come out of the ones in this area.”

Warriors clapped Twilight on the shoulder as a few of the others snickered at the rancher getting told off behind them. “A wise decision, it will be good for us to see what kind of force our enemies are showing here. How much they are willing to spread to each era they invade will give us a good idea of how much they have in total, since they are clearly not just sticking to the monsters that belong in the given era.”

“Plus, now that we’ve found the hero, it’s time to get to the next portal again.” Wind wove his way up from the middle to be standing in the very front, so he could walk backwards, hands on the back of his head, looking right at Four as he spoke. “The portals don’t usually let us stick around too long after we’ve found the hero.”

Four grinned and raised an eyebrow. “So what you’re telling me is I should warn you before you trip backwards into one.”

Wind practically tripped over himself as he darted forward to avoid walking backwards into a portal, turning around as his companions all started to laugh, to see there was no portal behind him. “Hey! What the fuck man!” Wind imagined the glare he tried to send Four was lessened by the laugh in his own voice, but when he realized their newest companion was silent laughing with tears welled up from the force of it he let it slide. This time. But only because it was cool to see the newest Link fitting in so well already. Especially considering how worn out and miserable they had looked when they had first shown up.

“Sorry, sorry.” Four composed themself a little, and wiped a tear from their eye. ”That stance just reminded me of a…  friend of mine. I Couldn’t resist.” 

“One of the out of the country friends your father is going to notify?” Time inquired, a small grin still on his own face.

Four nodded with a chuckle. "Yes. He's part of the Royal Guard, out with a few others on official business. I've been keeping the group informed on the portal situation, in case it becomes more dire and we need them back. You lot talked to Princess Zelda, so you saw the state the castle is in. It's been just over a year and we're still rebuilding from Gannon and Vatti's last attack, another attack would call for all hands on deck."

“And now you’re leaving.” Warriors noted. “So you asked your father to notify them so they can come back?”

Four shook his head. “By the sounds of the last letter I got from them they should already be on their way back. It sounded like they were close to resolving the problem. I just didn’t want them to be surprised when they came home and found me gone again.”

“Do they live with you?” Wind was back to walking backwards, confident that his team would let him know if there really was a portal behind him.

Four’s steps stuttered for just a moment. “How’d-”

“Well the sign, on the forge, says the owner is out of the country for business.” Wind tilted his head in a shrug.

“Oh.” Four paused for a moment. “No, that's because I was meant to go with the group. Heroes duties and all that. But then the portals started showing up, and the Princess decided someone should stay behind to watch after them, so here I still am. I never took the sign down because I am far too busy, and I am technically out a lot checking on them, so I saw no point in changing the phrasing.”

Warriors nodded in understanding. “No one would come bother you but for official business with the sign up?”

“That was the plan at least,” Four sighed, “Though plenty of people still tried.”

Wind laughed, it was unsurprising that even busy and supposedly out of the country people still wanted the hero for something. “Like us?”

“By my understanding this is official business.” Four smirked, They were already far too invested in this to turn back now. “Or should I turn back now and head home?”

“I think it may be just a little too late to turn back now, friend.” Time nodded to a portal that had opened up right in their path. It was new, and they would have to get off the road to avoid it, so it was pretty obviously meant for them to go through. Four frowned and walked towards it. “Hold on now.”

“Trust me, I’m being careful. But this one is different from the others.” They circled it, and hesitantly poked it. Satisfied with whatever they felt from it they pulled their hand back and rested it against their chin, mumbling something inaudible as they became deep in thought. There were a few odd looks from the group before Four’s head snapped up to look at them. “Are 

the ones you use to travel through all like this?”

Most of the group continued to look confused, nothing seemed to be different from these ones and the others, but Twilight and Hyrule both nodded, and Rulie spoke. “I’ve noticed that too. The ones meant for us seem to have light magic clinging around the edges.”

“Even though the portals themselves are made with dark magic. Fascinating.” Four had pulled a journal off their side and started writing as they spoke. “Whoever is calling us all together is of light magic, they have just hijacked the portals whoever is causing this made. Likely because it was quicker or easier than trying to replicate it with light magic.”

Warriors quirked an eyebrow. “How can you guys tell?”

Four looked shocked, like they had not realized the others could hear them, but Twilight and Hyrule both spoke at once. “Quest thing.”

Four was relieved when the others all took that as an acceptable answer and nodded in agreement. “It is indeed a quest thing.”

“Oh! That’s right.” Hyrule turned now to Four. “We all have our traumas and secrets, unless it is one that may put the team at risk we will never push for an answer. I can’t promise that some of us won’t snoop.” Fae turned to look pointedly from Wind to Wild and then to, surprisingly, Legend. “But if you ever don’t wish to talk about something that happened before meeting us you can explain that it's a quest thing. We won't push. At least in the moment.”

There were nods of agreement as Sky spoke up. “We had a few disagreements back when it was just a couple of us before we came up with that rule.”

Legend snickered. “If by disagreements you mean full blown arguments. Some of us are more willing to discuss their travels than others.”

“Count me amongst the second group then.” Four hummed in thought. “You all seem nice enough, but we would be here a while if I was willing to discuss all three of my adventures with you. Hylia, the last one alone would take at least a week to explain.”

Four knew their new companions all thought they were younger then they actually are, so the shocked reactions were not unexpected, though Time not being surprised was a bit shocking. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old were you when you started? Some of the others were teenages, but a few of us were pretty young ourselves.”

Four thought about it for a moment, but Time seemed to be implying that he was one of the younger ones, so they felt that at least they wouldn't get judgment for it from the eldest Link. “Seven. But there was a bit of a break before my next one, at ten.” They paused to gadge reactions. “And the last one lasted a year, so it started a little over two years ago.”

Time nodded, still seeming to be the only one relatively unphased by this. “Well, at three adventures you’re in the running with me for catching up to Legend for most, but she’s still got us both beat at five. You do, however, have me beat for age. I had just turned nine on my first.”

Warriors, Four guessed one of the older ones during his quest, shook his head. “No. No way we are just brushing past them saying they where fucking seven on their first quest!”

“I think we are.” Four shrugged. They had definitely had enough time to come to terms with it over the years, and besides, only one so young could have worked with the Minish as they had.

Sky stepped forward, trying to disperse the tension, and motioned towards the portal that had been sat waiting for them all this time. “Well then, it seems it’s time for us to be off once again. Not that there is anything that can be done now, but are you ready Four?”

Four’s eyes were shining with a curiosity that seemed to be completely overriding whatever had them upset when the group had gotten to their house, and they nodded as they restashed their book in its holster. “I am ready.”

“That’s the spirit!” Twilight clapped Four on the back as he and Wild made their way to the portal.

“The hero's spirit.” Time chuckled. “We normally buddy up, Knowing Wind he wants to go with you now.”

“Aw man!” Wind did walk over and take Four’s hand. “Time you’re taking all the fun outta calling dibs!”

Four looked shocked at how direct Wind was, but chuckled as Time began to speak again. “Right. So I will be accompanying you two. Twilight has Wild. Legend, I know you’ll be going with Hyrule. Warriors and Sky, is that alright?”

The two nodded and Warriors’ “Perfectly fine” mixed with Sky’s “Sounds perfect, thank you.”

Four Smiled as their new friends lined up to enter the portal. They were by no means a well-oiled machine, but they had fallen into a rhythm that clearly worked for them, and had this been a few years ago Four would feel out of place in it. Indignant of it even. Upset that fate was forcing them to play the part of a single part of a larger team. Now, however? Today they smiled, Time on one side and Wind on the other as they entered a portal. They were doing this with a team by their side. Fellow heroes. Friends. Family, perhaps. They were home.

#linked universe #four #time #legend #wind #wild #twilight #warriors #sky #hyrule #fic #one verse #hibiscus speaks #my work

[fuckyeah-dragrace]

Kindergarten Girlfriends

The continuation of the high school au is here! This was so so so much fun so if you guys want to see more with this AU, let me know!

————

Daya still remembers the day she first met Jasmine. She could never forget it.

It was the first day of kindergarten and she was sitting in the back of the class, coloring away while everyone else played with whatever toys were in the room. She was never really a nervous kid, something that her older sister Crystal was deeply envious of but for some reason the longer she sat alone, the more that lonely feeling grew inside her stomach like a sinking pit. She remembered dropping her crayon and watching it roll off the table and stop right in front of the most obnoxious sparkly gym shoes Daya had ever seen. The girl picked up the crayon and handed it to her, a wide smile on her face.

“Hi! I’m Jasmine. Can I color with you?” Daya didn’t even respond before Jasmine pulled up a chair next to her and started coloring, blabbering on and on while Daya sat and listened, smiling a little as she realized she wasn’t alone anymore, the pit getting smaller and smaller as she listened to Jasmine about whatever she wanted to.

“Di? Hello? Earth to Daya Betty?” Daya blinked and looked at the pale hand in front of her face. Willow laughed as Bosco rolled their eyes. “Though I lost you there for a second, Betts.”

Daya looked around the room and didn’t see the colorful carpet or short chairs. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

“You good, Daya?” Willow asked, already finished with the lab report.

“Yeah I’m fine. Just can’t wait for school to be over.” Not a complete lie. Her friends nodded, going back to talking quietly as Daya watched the seconds pass before the final bell rang.

————

Jasmine loved having Ms. Wadley right before dance practice. She’d always let her out early to get to the dance room in time for practice and she liked hearing Demoria grumble as she walked past her desk on the way out. She was walking down the empty halls as her mind continued to replay what happened in the library.

Daya called you her girlfriend. Her girlfriend.

She was in kindergarten, running around the playground with Daya when someone pushed her to the ground, scraping her knee on the colored sidewalk. She remembers holding back tears until she saw a still tall for her age Daya yell at the boys in their class.

“Leave my girlfriend alone!” She had never seen Daya that mad before, not ever. The boys scattered and Daya helped Jasmine up, hugging her tight and glaring at them.

“Boys are mean.” She remembers saying and wiping her eyes.

Daya nods. “I won’t let them hurt my girlfriend.”

“Di Di, will you always be my girlfriend?” Jasmine asks, tilting her head to look at her.

“Of course! We’ll be bestest girlfriends forever, Jazzy.” She didn’t know forever had an end. She watched as her and Daya drifted apart and didn’t speak to each other. She couldn’t quite explain what it was but it felt as if a pit settled in her heart once Daya left. Like she could never really be whole again without her.

Daya cheered internally when the bell rang, meaning she was done for the week. She gathered her things quickly and shoved them into her backpack before running out the door. She snaked and weaved between people, though many separated for her as she walked quickly to the dance room. Now she was in front of the door, frozen as she tried to bring herself to knock. The door swung open and Jasmine was there, smiling up at Daya.

“Hey.”

“Uh, hey.”

“Practice isn’t until an hour so we have time.” She opened the door wider and walked in, Daya following behind. The walls of mirrors surrounded Daya as she watched Jasmine turn back to her.

“So.” She started. “You called me your girlfriend.” She took a step closer.

“Yeah, that was totally out of line. I’m really sorry.” Daya said, rubbing her neck and looking at the wood paneling of the ground.

“You did it because you thought I was going to get hurt.” Another step.

“I did.”

“You care about me.” Another step.

Day hoped she wasn’t blushing as they were in the same position they were in the library. Jasmine, staring up at her with those gorgeous green eyes Daya totally didn’t doodle in her sketchbook when they had english together.

“I do.” She admitted. “I care about you, Jasmine.”

Jasmine couldn’t deny how her heart fluttered. She could feel the old pit get smaller as she watched those beautiful blue eyes Jasmine always got lost in during English. She stepped a little closer before taking one of Dayas hand.

“I care about you too, Daya.” She was going to say something else when suddenly she felt a pair of lips against her own. Her eyes widened as she realized Daya was kissing her.

Daya was kissing her. Daya Betty was kissing her.

Daya didn’t know what came over her but now she was kissing Jasmine Kennedie, her crush for forever. She pulled away quickly and stared down at Jasmine.

“Daya…” Jasmine was trying to process everything as they both stood their wide eyed and rosy cheeked.

“I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” Daya said quickly, her eyes brimming with tears. She turned and ran out of the dance room. Jasmine watched, her feet stuck to the floor as she watched Daya leave her, again.

“Daya, wait!”

#rpdr 14 #jasmine kennedie #daya betty #jasya #highschool au #bro the childhood friends to maybe lovers??? #💖💕💗💞💓💗💕💖💗💓💞 #makes my heart go BRRR

[sunsetofdoom]

I posted 2,587 times in 2022

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Longest Tag: 121 characters

#aloy is like 'well i could proceed with saving the world. or' and lists off all the sidequests she could be doing instead

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Finally finished a fic for once in my life! You know how everyone makes “Avad gets pegged” jokes? Y’all better put your money where your fucking mouth is.

Let Her Be Soft, And Let Her Be Mine

title from this poem, swapped pronouns

It almost hurt to think about- probing the barriers he put up in his thoughts, not letting himself dwell on his trivial love affair when there were so many more important things to worry about. But Ersa was right there, the memory of her vibrant and shining. The lines on her skin, sun-darkened wherever her armor didn’t protect her and pale where it did, the calluses on her hands, the steadying way she touched him. Her scars- he’d spent ages over the years mapping them with his hands, his mouth; the whip marks on her back, the slave-brand on her shoulder, pockmarks on her thigh where the sparks of an explosion had caught her. The way she blushed, up to her ears and halfway down her chest, when he kissed every one like they were precious. She never made a sound- they had to be so careful- but often tangled her hand into his hair as her breathing deepened and stuttered. Always caught off-guard by his affection.

38 notes - Posted January 23, 2022

#4

it’s About the inherent eroticism of the title “Captain”

54 notes - Posted March 25, 2022

#3

everybody knows cats are witches

(a continuation of the daemon AU I started here, though really all the context you should need, even if you don’t know the general concept, is that Stede’s familiar is a golden retriever)

-

“It’s quite ridiculous,” Stede complained. His teacup sloshed in his hand, half-forgotten as he gestured. “Half my crew honestly thinks you’re a witch! This can’t just be Blackbeard’s fearsome reputation, Ed. Really, what have you done to them?”

Ed narrowed his eyes, a familiar smile twisting the shaggy beard, and said, “Come with us.”

Curious, Stede did, settling the teacup back in its saucer and rising to follow with Polly clicking gaily along at his heels. Likewise, Asher padded down the hall in front of Ed, a bit further away than would be comfortable for Stede and Polly; they seemed to have a longer range they could inhabit before the symptoms of human and daemon separation, a tight chest and emotional distress, began to plague them. Ash held his black tail high as he sauntered coolly over the mahogany floors, the very tip flicking back and forth with princely pride. At the end of the hall he jumped up onto the railing of the stairs, perching with all four of his paws in a straight line, and Ed gestured Stede and Polly up the stairs ahead of him.

When they were halfway up the staircase, he flickered his half-gloved fingers in a quiet good-bye. He stayed standing at the base of the stairs, and Asher continued his way up the banister, unconcerned with the distance they were putting between themselves.

Polly froze, her tail tucking between her legs. “Ed...”

He waved goodbye more emphatically, sauntering away in his big enormous boots with his hands on his hips. He was almost ten entire feet from his daemon, and even looking at him made Stede’s chest feel tight with sympathetic pain.

“Come on, then,” Asher drawled from the top of the stairs, rising up onto the decks, his dark fur catching the sunlight. “We don’t have all day.”

With one more nervous flick of his eyes to Ed’s retreating back, Stede followed.

Emerging above-decks was still a novelty, after all this time. The wind, the sunlight hammering down, the salt in the air catching on the back of his tongue- it was overwhelming and beautiful and terrifying. Polly shook her head, golden fur flying, and let her tongue hang out as she panted with an enormous doggy grin.

In front of them was Asher, intimately familiar- his dusty black fur, his scarred, torn ears, the ready-to-pounce tension of him even as he groomed himself meticulously. His tail swished back and forth against the wood of the deck, and he looked as though the entire world would wait until he was done cleaning himself- exactly like Ed, that absolute confidence in his own ridiculousness right up until the flash of claws the second they felt ridiculous.

Except Ed wasn’t there.

“Ash!” The deck tilting like he might be sick, Stede grabbed onto Polly, fisting his hand in her fur. Like their closeness could make up for Ed and Asher’s distance. He couldn’t quite tell if he or Polly had said Asher’s name; perhaps it was both of them at once.

Ash licked his paw, scrubbing furiously at the graying jowls of his face, appearing totally at ease. Alone. Oh, God, he was alone, with no human being to lean against or depend on, a thing of horror and revulsion like a human without a head. One of his ragged black ears twitched, and he stopped abruptly, put his paw down, and trotted away.

Stede pulled himself up by the banister, and followed, his face screwed up in concentration and worry.

The upper deck was empty at the moment, Izzy and Buttons both apparently busy elsewhere, so there was no one to scream or faint at the sight of a daemon with no human- all the more terrifying and unnatural for Asher’s nonchalance. Seemingly without rhyme or reason, Ash sat down in the middle of the deck, his tail curling around his paws until he looked like a statuette. 

Dizzy, Stede leaned on Polly where she was a solid weight against his thigh. Where was Ed? Was he alright, was this hurting him? They ought to have been doubled over in pain, their bond stretched too far for anything but crumpling up into a ball of agony and grief. He looked out past Asher and onto the sea to the south, the expanse of blue sky, and wondered if this was the same scene Ed could see, out of the window of the cabin...

The cabin which was right beneath the deck.

Ash stared up at them, green eyes pinprick-small in the bright daylight, and blinked slowly.

“But you’re not far from him at all,” Stede said out loud, for Polly’s benefit; she was still held tense against his leg. “He’s just in the cabin below. You’re still within range.”

A pleased, husky trill quivered in Ash’s throat, and he stretched out of his picture-perfect pose to trot over and touch noses with Polly. She whined with relief, nuzzling him as his battle-scarred head bumped up against her muzzle.

“See?,” he said, his silky-dark voice wry and amused. He turned, brushing Polly’s nose just barely with the tip of his tail as he walked away. “Scares the shit out of people.”

“Hey, boss?” As if to demonstrate, Frenchie pounded his way up the stairs, sugar glider daemon riding on his shoulder. Technically, crewmen weren’t allowed on the upper deck without an invitation from the captain or mates; such a rule had never been something Stede enforced, though at the moment he rather wished he had.

Catching sight of the lonely black cat daemon, Frenchie froze, his eyes enormous. The sugar glider squeaked, scurrying up into his hair and hiding on top of his head, shaking all over.

Asher saw the twitchy rodent movement and his green eyes dilated. A throaty noise burbled from him as he crouched down, tail lashing and claws digging into the deck, ready to pounce.

Frenchie screamed. Not bothering with the stairs, he vaulted over the railing and fell the full ten feet to the lower deck.

Shouting, Stede rushed to the rail to make sure he was alright, Polly barking in distress at his heels. Frenchie seemed to have caught himself on a pile of boxes, and was struggling to get out of the one he’d broken, stuck in what appeared to be a pile of spare sewing rags from their flag contest that absolutely no one had bothered to put away. He was tangled in scraps of fabric and trying to fight his way free, still squeaking with panic, and right on comedic cue the sugar glider sailed in her small downward spiral and landed spread-eagled on his face.

Straining forward, Ash craned his neck and tilted his head, trying to see- he must have hit the edges of his and Edward’s range, what a relief to see that they had one- and began to laugh.

See the full post

79 notes - Posted April 10, 2022

#2

not one hair of you would I rearrange

“Who named you?” Ed asked, mumbling around the end of the pipe in his mouth. “Never met a nob that’d name their kids’ daemon something s’common as Polly.” Nobs always had long daemon names, the very devil to pronounce and never worth remembering, and they were always out of some book or play that no one in their right mind had ever heard of.

“Ah,” Stede said, looking a little bashful as he put his bookmark between the pages, Polly a liquid lump of dog where she was lying on his slippers. Before them, the fire roared, leaving the cabin an oasis of cozy warmth among the old, comforting sounds of the waves against the hull. “It is, I’m afraid, a short form- her name is Polyhymnia. For one of the Greek muses, I believe.”

“I like Polly better,” she murmured from the floor, her normally-cheerful voice subdued and relaxed from the heat of the fire, and Stede leaned down to ruffle the long, golden hair around her ears. Her coat matched perfectly to his blond hair, and she looked clean and soft and rumpled, just like Stede in his dressing-gown.

“And you?” He asked politely, sitting back up. “Why Asher?”

Asher, taking up space on Ed’s chest, heaved a toothy yawn. He matched Ed the same way- midnight-black in their youth, he had faded over the years to the color of stormclouds on the horizon, fur going gray towards the jowled sides of his face. A thick, ragged tomcat with one ripped-up ear and singed whiskers, he’d left scars on the noses of daemons from here to High Brazil.

“Dunno,” he replied, his voice as low and dark as the voice in the back of Edward’s head that told him when everything was about to go to shit. “Biblical, maybe.”

“Mum was a God-botherer,” Ed agreed, drawing on his pipe and letting the smoke flow away with the words. Stede was the first person he’d spoken to about his mother in more than twenty years.

Stede pursed his lips, brow furrowing as he looked at his bookshelf like the answer was to be found there; Ed wondered if he had a Bible somewhere in those unreadable shelves, just for the sake of having it. That seemed like the sort of thing Stede would do, even if he never said a word about God either way.

“Genesis,” Polly contributed from the floor. “Jacob’s son,”

“Joseph’s brother! Yes,” Stede completed her sentence like always, snapping his fingers. “Sold his younger brother into slavery for spite and jealousy... something of a, er, despicable character.” He leveled Ed with a look that was somehow both fond and guilty.

“That’s us,” Asher stretched out his claws, clinking them against the wood of the pipe with the absolute confidence of an animal who never gave a single damn about being a nuisance. “Despicable all over.”

His weight on Ed’s chest was unfamiliar. They spent twenty years stretching their range, step by step and month by month, slowly gouging out space in their heart-deep bond that let Ash perch above-decks even when Blackbeard was ensconced away in the cabin, scaring the absolute pants off of the crew. The throaty pang of grief and pain in his chest was a constant, and its removal left him feeling almost weightless.

Ever since Stede had come into their lives, Asher circled closer and closer, both of them falling helplessly into his orbit. Ed took tea with him. Ash left dead rats at his doorstep. Edward taught him sword tricks in the dead of night while Asher and Polly play-fought at their feet, Ash rolling on his back and inviting a dog three times his size to snap at his belly.

And now Asher was lying on top of him, self-satisfied as a housecat. He wasn’t even keeping watch.

“When’d you settle?” Ed asked. Their silences were comfortable, but God almighty there was so much he wanted to know about Stede Bonnet, how in the Hell he’d ended up here, at sea in general and within arms’ reach in particular.

Sighing, Stede ran his bookmark over the edges of his fingers; Ed had felt less guilt about cutting mens’ hands off than he did for keeping Stede from his peaceful reading. “I was fourteen,” he said with a soft regret. “It was just before we left school- that school, at least. It inspired as much mockery as anything we did.” He glanced up, his eyes glinting in the fire-light. “A dog, you know- servants’ animals.” He took on a ridiculous and terrible approximation of those fickle Frenchmen, leveling the insult at him.

“Fucking cunts,” Ed said mildly.

Shrugging with faint agreement, Stede smiled in that soft, sad way that made Edward want to fold him up and protect him from the world.

He stretched out to kick his boots up onto the arm of the sofa, jostling Asher, who glared at him with one poison-green eye. “We settled young,” he said, trying to distract Stede from whatever recollection he’d fallen into. “Before any of the other kids, at least. My dad said I was a fucking witch.” Aside from telling that stupid fucking Kraken story, he hadn’t spoken about his father in decades, either.

“Very witchy animal, a black cat,” Stede concurred, smiling at Ash, who preened. Nobody else would’ve thought it, from Blackbeard’s ghoul of a familiar, but Ed knew him from the torn tips of his ears to the pads of his little asshole feet, and Asher was glowing with attention. “Really quite frightening. My peers, though, quickly deduced that Polly was no threat.”

Ed turned over on his elbow, shoving Ash when his tail dropped down in front of his eyes. Polly, in her place in front of the fire, was an average-sized, heavyset dog with clear eyes and strong legs; her constant, dopey smile obscured the fact that she was mouth-focused and picked up or bit everything in sight, and she went to point whenever Stede showed interest in anything. She was almost as attentive to the scrape of a rat in the ship as Asher, and he’d been a ratter his whole alley-cat life. “She’s got to be a hunting breed, though,” he said.

Stede shrugged again. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “My father, though, bred hunting dogs his whole life long, and he could make neither hide nor hair of her.” His tone said quite well that his father had been just as baffled by Stede himself.

Polly shifted, going from her inelegant splay across Stede’s feet to a tight ball on the rug, her enormous tail- so furry that it flapped like a fan when she wagged it- slapping down tight over the tip of her nose. Duly curled up, she heaved a woebegone sigh.

With a splay of his claws calculated to land right on Ed’s bare arm, Asher stretched luxuriously. In a show of nonchalance, he sat up, shook his head, cleaned his face, and with a clink of his claws against the buckles of Ed’s jacket, leapt to the floor.

“Fucking ow,” Ed muttered, rubbing his fingers along the small puncture wounds on his bicep, Asher’s asshole love-notes a lifelong sensation.

Asher padded over to Polly where she was curled up, plopped his enormous black backside next to her, and set his head on her shoulders. The rest of his body followed like water being poured into a shaped glass, drooping contentedly to the floor with the peculiar grace of a cat who was exactly where he wanted to be.

The silence settled into comfort, mood returning to contented laziness as Ed watched his daemon’s chest rise and fall as he breathed. Jesus fucking wept, how long had it been since that cat touched another daemon in something other than violence? Decades. More, probably. Asher regularly stalked and threatened Izzy’s kestrel daemon, knocking her from her perches around the ship; anything smaller than a bear was fair game for menacing, really. He’d even once managed to get a solid strike on Fang’s enormous golden eagle, clawing his way up into the rigging to drop down onto her back and pin her to the deck when she fell, snapping one of her strong wings with a noise like a dry branch.

And here he was snuggled up against a kennel-club, blue-ribbon princess of a dog, her angelic curls sparkling beside his patchy, dusty, ragged black fur.

“Ed,” Stede said into his book, and his head turned so fast it hurt, “forgive me if I’m being forward. But since we’re speaking of it...”

See the full post

110 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

so unfortunately for you all the above post inspired a daemons AU for these idiots

“Who named you?” Ed asked, mumbling around the end of the pipe in his mouth. “Never met a nob that’d name their kids’ daemon something s’common as Polly.” Nobs always had long daemon names, the very devil to pronounce and never worth remembering, and they were always out of some book or play that no one in their right mind had ever heard of.

“Ah,” Stede said, looking a little bashful as he put his bookmark between the pages, Polly a liquid lump of dog where she was lying on his slippers. Before them, the fire roared, leaving the cabin an oasis of cozy warmth among the old, comforting sounds of the waves against the hull. “It is, I’m afraid, a short form- her name is Polyhymnia. For one of the Greek muses, I believe.”

“I like Polly better,” she murmured from the floor, her normally-cheerful voice subdued and relaxed from the heat of the fire, and Stede leaned down to ruffle the long, golden hair around her ears. Her coat matched perfectly to his blond hair, and she looked clean and soft and rumpled, just like Stede in his dressing-gown.

“And you?” He asked politely, sitting back up. “Why Asher?”

Ash, taking up space on Ed’s chest, heaved a toothy yawn. He matched Ed the same way- midnight-black in their youth, he had faded over the years to the color of stormclouds on the horizon, fur going gray towards the jowled sides of his face. A thick, ragged tomcat with one ripped-up ear and singed whiskers, he’d left scars on the noses of daemons from here to High Brazil.

“Dunno,” he replied, his voice as low and dark as the voice in the back of Edward’s head that told him when everything was about to go to shit. “Biblical, maybe.”

“Mum was a God-botherer,” Ed agreed, drawing on his pipe and letting the smoke flow away with the words.

318 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #alright yeah this all tracks #sorry about the long post lads

[sebastianshaw]

wrong blog but I want to say goodnight on a wholesome note so here’s Haven preparing to nonviolently slay, thank you

#out of shirt #her fc is nandita das even if she doesn't have the hair or height for it #bc you try finding me a totally accurate FC for a six foot tall Indian woman with ankle length hair #I just settled for right age range and not pale

[chocosvt]

love café

⚬ pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 17.6K ⚬ warnings: some vulgar language, i guess! ⚬ genres: big time nsfw, dirty talk, lap dances, quickies, bath shenanigans, exhibitionism, overstim - you get what i mean. big ole romance, angst, fluff, jeonghan is very rich and very hot, joshua has a not so subtle crush on you. 

✧✎ synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not. 

✧✎ a/n: YES, ANOTHER REWRITE. the original love café was just so unsalvageable that i almost fully wiped its plot, minus the actual concept of the café. so, this should read as fairly new! I HOPE U ENJOY IT !!

It’s not that you were desperate. Because you weren’t.

You were actually more than desperate at this point, and no longer could you sit on that uneven couch with the broken leg, staring at the chipped paint, listening to your neighbours’ screams, believing you should continue like this. More than anything, you were shortchanging yourself. There was no point in holding onto that little string of hope in which those employers might phone you back. It would be impossible to contact your family when you had affirmatively cut ties with them ages ago. And, it was becoming increasingly foolish to ignore your one saving grace, just a street over from your rundown complex.

But, could you really commit to it? Would anyone even be able to look at you and think you were someone desirable enough to reward?

Those thoughts often hung over you like a dark cloud, and poured down so heavily that you were metaphorically drenched, in your own pessimism. However, on that day, you were beyond patience with the cards you’d been dealt. Such a despairing apartment, with all its bugs and drafts and horrible neighbours, could not be your brightest and most fortunate future. There had to be something you could do.

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

In other words, an easy gig to financial heaven, in exchange for sexual pleasures of course. You walked into your bedroom and sat down in front of the wooden vanity, clicking on a dim, flickering bulb to help illuminate your face as well as its lifeless expression which stared back at you. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to pat your skin with some emptying makeup and thinning pans of eyeshadow. Then, you fixed up your hair and chose a simple, mute-coloured dress from your closet, immediately swallowed by the large winter coat you cozied into.

You hurried quickly down the corridor, ignoring the muffled shouts from your argumentative neighbours bleeding through the nickel-thin walls, past the barking dog which jumped against the door, scratching its nails whenever you waited for the elevator, and you didn’t even spare one glance at the very strange man who always hovered in the central lobby and watched you ignore his coos every single day. By the time you arrived outside the Love Café, you were breathing like a marathon runner. Despite the cold weather, you felt a sweat run like a breeze down your temple as you wiped your face before heading inside.

The space felt warm. Everything was red, pink, or white. And when you inhaled, the air smelled like a note of rose petals and candy. It was surprisingly easy to sign up for a ‘Love Card’ at the front desk.

“This card has twelve punches per service with your partner. If, by the end of the twelfth punch, you’re not looking to pursue something serious with this individual, you can pay for another Love Card. If you do manage to find, ‘the one’, then congratulations, and well wishes. Since you’re a first-time client, you get twenty-five percent off your first card.”

Whoever the lady was, she seemed less than enthusiastic as she pushed a cherry-red paper across the counter with a finely manicured nail. You thought she must have given this spiel so many times, the script probably haunted her in her sleep. Nonetheless, you thanked her, and heeded her direction when she advised you to choose any of the free tables, marked with a pale rose. For some reason, you picked the very last table amongst the row and slid yourself onto the uncomfortable, white chair, the metal back moulded into the shape of a heart.

Whoever reserved the table wasn’t exactly punctual. About half an hour after being seated, ordering yourself a tea, and examining the different clients who filtered in and out the café, you were beginning to assume the worst. That they cancelled. Flaked. Decided to pull from the service and direct their affluence elsewhere. As you titled the last few droplets of tea around the base of the cup, feeling utterly depressed and bored, you heard the little bells clink above the door, followed by a gasp from the employee at the front desk. Considering her microscopic range of emotion, you figured whoever entered must be some flawless rarity.

“Jeonghan!” She fixed her slouched position. “I wasn’t aware you made a reservation today. I haven’t seen your name in the system.”

“No worries. I set an anonymous appointment the night before. After all the chaos I caused last time, I figured it’s best to stay under the radar. I know I’m late. I was finishing up a term paper.”

“That’s quite all right. Here, I’ll just quickly renew your information. One moment… Okay, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re all set.”

At that, your eyes practically bulged right into the teacup. You’d heard his name in some conversations with a few university friends, before you had dropped your program. His father was an inventive in the fashion industry for nearly a decade, and his brand was considered high-end luxury, with people forking up the big bucks just to wear a piece from the collection. His mother recently begun a perfume company. In fact, you had a bottle from her Sunrise series sitting on your vanity, though you used each spritz very sparingly considering its outrageous price point. According to the most recent gossip, Jeonghan had ended his relationship with a model who’d been strutting his father’s cloths.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

No – even worse, you couldn’t believe he was making his way toward your table. It had to be some sort of mistake. How could it be that you chose to sit here? Was the universe attempting another cruel joke?

His visual seemed even more daunting outside his photographs in the magazines. Beyond a glossy page, he was softer. Thick hair, shiny and dark brown, which swooped beneath his ears and parted smoothly at the forehead. His lips were the same shade as the windowsill roses, as well as the high arches in his cheeks. But then, he was sharper too, with a trim, angular jaw and such a defined yet judgemental brow. You had expected anyone else but him. And now, this esteemed, much too beautiful man had come to the very last table, wearing an expression of waning curiosity. Or, as you interpreted it, clear-glass disappointment.

Before Jeonghan seated himself, he untucked his phone from his coat pocket and clicked a side button to check the time. He then sniffled, looked straight at the wall, and sighed. Despite your now devoted wish to disappear, you attempted to begin a conversation that wouldn’t backfire.

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve heard the name. It’s nice to meet you.”

He settled one arm on the table, tapping his fingernails.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a regular here—” he then peered over at your bright red Love Card placed by the teacup to say your name.

Bouncing your leg underneath the table, you nodded. “No, not really. I’ve been debating for a while if this was a choice I should make, but I can’t seem to have ends meet doing anything else. So, I came here.”

Already, Jeonghan looked painfully bored. He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned his chin against the hand instead. You knew it was the insecurity barking. Unnecessarily, you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not the woman you’re expecting and I get that. I wouldn’t be all that offended if you wanted to save the Love Card for someone else or—”

Out of the blue, Jeonghan laughed, though he attempted to mute the sound by digging the bend of his index finger between his teeth. Your sentence trailed off with an awkward, dying breath. He suddenly leaned back in his metal seat, shaking his head apologetically and pulling back some of the soft hairs from his eyes. You felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, “didn’t mean to discourage you there, sweetheart. I’ve just never had someone apologize for—well, their looks.”

“I-I don’t know,” you lunged for damage control, “I just thought you seemed disappointed and I… Well, I haven’t done this before, so I don’t really know all that well how it works. I… I should stop talking…”

It felt as though someone had swatted both your cheeks in an iron-slap, because the skin was stinging hot like never before. You knew he was staring at you, probably thinking to himself that you were a train wreck waiting to happen. Afterward, an employee visited the table to collect your emptied teacup, and asked Jeonghan if he’d like anything to drink. Refusing to look elsewhere but the clenched fists in your lap, you waited for the employee to leave once Jeonghan rejected the offer. He’d pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, you watched him sloppily scribble something down.

“My number.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Listen, I’ve gotta go home and proofread that term paper before I submit it. Just send me a text, okay? I won’t be free for a few days, anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t comprehend that he was still interested in pursuing something venereal, even when you had embarrassed yourself like a circus act. He rose quickly from the table and wrapped the waistband of his coat tight around his small waist.

Staring down at the paper, you blurted out, “are you sure?”

Jeonghan titled his head. “Am I sure of what?”

“Never mind.” You answered. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” He nodded, on the verge of walking away when he abruptly stopped himself. “Are you always this nervous?”

Caught off guard by his question, your elbow whacked the edge of the table and you meekly stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

You were more than positive he was going to ghost all your texts.

To a degree, you were correct.

Over the course of the following week, you sent Jeonghan at least three texts, each on separate days, only to be rewarded with a demotivating lack of responses. You knew he was a busy individual who probably didn’t have much time to waste on promiscuous affairs, let alone a committed relationship. So, you tried very earnestly to not feel upset or unimportant at his methods – even despite the series of required payments glaring you down from those white envelopes scattered atop the kitchen table.

And then, during the black, late hours of a snowy Friday, you received a reply. A surprisingly urgent one which detailed that you make it to the downtown Opal Studio before eleven o’clock, as there would be a backdoor entrance left unlocked for your access. He mentioned a storage closet underneath a staircase, worded very sternly as: … Wait inside, and do not make yourself known. I’ll see you there shortly, and ensure you leave without being spotted. Uncertain of what the situation would entail, you phoned a cab and payed the driver using some remaining funds from a paper note purse. The studio’s front was a smooth, velvet black, with a wide window which illuminated several mannequins wearing Mr. Yoon’s newest issue. Each outfit cost a pretty penny.

Like you anticipated, Jeonghan was late to meet you in the storage closet; however, you were at no point going to scold his blatant disregard for scheduling when he’d pressed you tight against the door looking the way he did. Buttons popped down the chest of his unwrinkled dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and his neat, styled hair beginning to dishevel around those intense eyes. He braced his hand beside your head, studying your lips as though they were glittering.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked. The question seemed to rumble from deep in his throat and you felt your knees weaken.

You nodded immediately, allowing his hand to frame the side of your cheek as his warm, soft mouth nudged against yours. It was gentle for a fleeting touch, and then there was pressure, teeth, a slick tongue running across your bottom lip and leaving you in such a sensual daze that you just stood there with a parted mouth. Jeonghan definitely knew what he wanted from you in that moment. And he wanted it quick. You were flipped around, chest pushed against the door, skirt hiked up impatiently as the fabric ruffled around your hips. His hand slid between your thighs to rub you through the thin pair of underwear, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the cold, thick rings on his fingers.

Eagerly, you began a slow gyration of grinding against Jeonghan’s touch while simultaneously biting down hard on your bottom lip, knowing embarrassingly well that you were already sticky and soaking and ready for him to use you like a designated fucktoy. He was rather flush to your backside as he dug the heel of his palm against your clit, so much yet not enough between the cotton. Something about his scent was beyond arousing, and it gripped to him like a web. An expensive cologne no doubt, mature, raw, and ocean-fresh. You heard the sound of his belt being whipped open, followed by a zipper.

“Alright,” Jeonghan hummed, passing a hand up his length, “let’s make this quick. Gotta be back upstairs in five to finish the measurements and tapering and all that boring shit. Now, just be a good, quiet little girl for me, sweetheart, and this’ll be a cake walk.”

Your mouth stretched into a low, whiny groan as Jeonghan held your underwear aside and began to sink inside of you, his hips stalled against your skin. His light breath then fluttered at your ear, “bet you’d make such a perfect toy to keep my cock nice and warm. Feels so perfect, being this deep inside you, sweetheart.” He shuddered against you, thrusting once, twice, slowly and teasingly dragging himself out before ramming right back in to pinch you against the door.

“Fuck,” he cursed between his teeth, “life would be so much easier if I could just keep you right here on my cock, wouldn’t it, baby?”.

Undoubtedly, that smooth-talking tongue of his was going to be an impending problem. You don’t know where he got off exactly on such scandalous thoughts, but you were too consumed in your own lust to care. The way he fucked you against that door with one hand scraping at your hip and the other wrapped up your throat, fingers pressing hot into your drooling mouth to keep you quiet, it was more bliss than a one-way ticket to Eden. Jeonghan timed his orgasm appropriately, slipping himself from your warmth at the last second and finishing himself off using the hand which had been maintaining your silence. His breaths were slow but husky in the aftermath, his fingers painted in cum.

“You wouldn’t want to use that pretty mouth of yours to clean this, would you?” He laughed.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had grabbed some paper towels left to sit on a shelf and cleaned the mess himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he asked if you were carrying that damn Love Card before you could even flatten down the wrinkles in your skirt. You grabbed the small note purse you set down next to the paper towels and revealed the obnoxiously coloured card. Jeonghan smiled.

“That’s the one.” He took a dry erase marker from the shelf and wrote his initials in the first circle.

“Here,” Jeonghan proceeded to offer back the card, “one session down. I need to scram. The hall should be clear at this hour, but have a cab ready just in case you need to bolt fast. Oh—before I go, you got the money to pay the driver? It’s no problem if you’re short. I can cover.”

“N-No, I should have enough.” You answered.

“Cool. I’ll transact you tonight.” Jeonghan nodded, tucking in his shirt rather poorly before slipping past you to exit the storage closet.

One week later, you were at the entrance to the library, pulling open the door with a big, cold huff. It was much warmer inside. You were beginning to feel the tips of your stiff fingers again.

Despite your service at the Love Café, you wanted one last time to test your luck on a receptionist position at the downtown hair salon, simply because you would think better of yourself if you weren’t relying chiefly on Jeonghan to pay your bills. His last transaction had been more than you anticipated. Finally, you were able to erase that huge electricity bill, and you still had enough of the money left over to supply some warm meals for the next few days. If you could just submit your newest resume to the salon, then you might be able to permanently cover the groceries.

Except, you needed access to a computer.

Ever since you tipped over a glass of water onto your old laptop, it had stopped working properly, and the library was the only place close by which let you use the computer room without fees. However, as you peered in through the backroom window to find an open space, you realized just how crammed full it was. Judging by everyone’s intense typing and unblinking eyes, you weren’t going to steal a seat anytime soon, which pulled out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with the USB in your pocket. You thought about heading home, until you saw Jeonghan.

He was seated at the distant left corner, leaned back comfortably in the chair while he examined something on his laptop. A gym bag was slid underneath the table, and he was dressed as though he had some sort of sports practice; quite the contrary to his usual crisp, ironed shirts and heavy winter coats courtesy of brands you couldn’t pronounce. He seemed concentrated, chewing on his thumb nail while he tapped the touch pad. In fact, he didn’t notice that you had approached him until you said his name quietly from across the table and his eyes flickered.

“Uh, hey.” Jeonghan replied, sounding bothered while he pushed his thumb harshly against his bottom lip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

He shrugged, maintaining his uninterested glance on the laptop screen. “Well, I’m looking over some notes. Last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “What’s with the duffle bag?”

“My friend Joshua – he’s been making me coach this Peewee soccer team with him at the Greenfield Dome.” Jeonghan puffed out his chest, letting an arm fall loosely to his side. “Those kids are insane. They have too much energy. I shouldn’t have let that bastard sweet talk me.”

At that, you giggled, though immediately hushed yourself when the librarian came by with a metal cart, filled with books to shelve. You stepped around the table to move out of her way. Jeonghan pulled out the chair beside him using his foot and nodded that you take a seat.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

“I need to upload my new resume. I mean, I probably won’t hear anything back from this place, ‘cause that’s how it usually goes. But, whatever. Thing is, I busted my laptop, and now the computer room is filled up. I’ll just come back later and hope it’s cleared out.” Staring down at your shoes, you avoided Jeonghan’s gaze. “I know I’m doing this Love Café stuff, but it would still be nice to have my own income, you know?”

“I get that.” He replied, scratching at his collarbone. “I’ve already got my laptop here and everything. You can use it, if you want.”

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan closed a few tabs that he’d been rotating between before sliding his laptop over to you. Wriggling the memory stick into the small slot at the side, you logged into your email account through the main search engine. As long as you could send your resume to the salon before they closed their application deadline, then you would hope for the absolute best, even if it was an unstimulating, lacklustre gig answering phones and scheduling hair appointments all day. Just as you went to drag the file into your email, Jeonghan’s laptop froze.

“Uh, Jeonghan,” you whispered, “nothing’s moving. Do I just wait? Does this normally happen? Did I screw something up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Relax, relax. It’s been doing that a lot recently. I figured out if you hold down these keys—” Jeonghan suddenly scooted his chair in very close, his thigh pressing against yours as he reached a hand underneath your arm, the other lightly nudging your fingers off the keyboard, “then it goes back to normal. See?”

“O-Oh, yeah. It’s working.” You stuttered, not all staring at the specific keys he clicked because the side of his face was much too pretty.

Granting you access to the keyboard again, Jeonghan leaned away, though he didn’t move his thigh from yours even an inch. It was almost concerning how flustered you felt. Jeonghan had literally pinned you against a closet door and fucked his own hand right in front of you, and yet, your heart was fluttering tenfold. In a much different way. And it lit this spark of fear and adrenaline at the core of your chest like gasoline hitting a wicked flame. You detached the USB stick, logged yourself out from the email account, and moved quickly off the seat.

In a hurried breath, you said, “thanks so much!” and proceeded to leave the library as though someone were trailing you with a pitchfork.

While it was embarrassing, you knew it was necessary. There was no way you were going to crush on that boy. It was strictly business.

Tired. Aching.

Uncomfortable moisture covering the slopes and divots of your body. You didn’t think there was anything left inside you for him to so commandingly take, like his name were inked to your each and every limb. And yet, Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you rest. The mattress dipped behind you, the heat of his chest sticking to your back, the weight of his erection pressed right at your tailbone. While his lips kissed softly up your neck, Jeonghan slid his hand in between your thighs to continue pleasuring you, ignoring the responsive whimpers attached to your sensitivity. He’d already brought you to two orgasms, though you were sensing the overbearing rush of a third.

An index and middle finger slid down to your entrance, the contact beyond slippery, a sort of wet velvet, and you hardly recognized the sensation unlike the first time he’d touched you. Jeonghan hooked the digits deep, using the heel of his palm to rub a thorough friction against your clit. Working faster and faster, his laboured breaths fanned hot across your neck while he sharply concentrated on making you starry-eyed. It was pain. It was bliss. It was exactly what you wanted most and everything you couldn’t endure at the same time. You came heavily, screamed as the pulsation at your core felt almost violent.

Unable to fully ride out the pleasure, you attempted to curl away from Jeonghan, hiding your face in the pillows and further tilting your hips. However, the boy followed your movement. He stayed snug to your back, practically leaned over top you with the latter arm braced next to your head while his hand pounded and pounded. The amount of liquid gushing onto his fingers and spilling down his wrist felt almost comical, and you were certain that you had never orgasmed so intensely in your life. To make matters worse, it seemed as though he’d taken that little memory box in your head filled with all your language and tossed it right out the damn window. You couldn’t form one word other than sobs.

Jeonghan breathed a light, shaky chuckle beside your ear. “Trying to run from me, sweetheart? When I can make you feel so good? Look at how much you can take, honey. Such a good girl when you cum so fucking hard ‘round my fingers I can barely move them.”

The sound of his digits sliding out from your entrance was the most impure, salacious noise you didn’t know could exist. Rolling slowly onto your back, you saw the immediate coating on Jeonghan’s hand and the drops beading down his wrist. He caught one with his tongue, licking all the way back up like he was cleaning the juice from a melted popsicle, and you almost couldn’t watch him. In fact, you were exhausted. There wasn’t anything left for you to offer, and the thought of moving from his bed when your core felt this utterly sore and your muscles this tight set a perfectly timed cue for your eyes to fall shut. It was heavenly.

Nonetheless, Jeonghan had a very specific rule. There was no staying past your session, and he was often strikingly clear about it. But  this was the first time you’d been pushed to such a degree. He must be able to recognize that it was only a short nap you needed, and perhaps a quick minute under the shower to rid your skin of the sticky sweat.

Out of the blue, something was tossed onto your face. It was your t-shirt earlier stripped and thrown to the floor by Jeonghan. Cracking an eye open and peeling away the fabric to hang loosely from your grip, you sighed. He had already slipped back into his exercise pants.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

He threw a loose flannel over the long, beaming red scrapes that you had clawed down his back, shaking his head with a huff.

“I’m not saying you need to get out right now. I’ve got a dinner with the parents at eight.” Jeonghan proceeded to drop the rest of your undergarments onto bed. “So, you gotta be gone by a quarter to, alright?”

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

The next morning, you were seated on the edge of your bed, staring with bleary eyes at the smooth, red Love Card that was initialed to its fifth circle, leaving only eight more sessions with Jeonghan. Though you approached the café with nothing more than an intention to earn money (even if the sex would be inexplicably dull), you were beginning to presume that there was more to this business than you thought. Because the sex wasn’t dull. It was concerningly amazing. And the very man who you had sworn to maintain a no-strings-attached type relationship with was throwing you for a loop. But he was boundary driven.

Be ready to go by this time. No sparkly clothes. Leave nothing in the washroom. Don’t show up here. Don’t show up there. Don’t text me unless this. Don’t call me unless that. Jeonghan knew very explicitly that you were a simple trick to relieving his stress and fulfilling his sexual desires, yet, anything further than that was laughably impossible. And, besides, it’s not like you needed to be in love or have this dazzling, perfect boyfriend. There was too much on your plate already.

You had gone to bed in a thick wool sweater, layered with the heaviest comforter you had due to the broken heating. Ignoring the cold, your next-door neighbours had found themselves in another drunken argument, forcing you to hear the unnerving crack of beer bottles and an outrageous number of insults, ranging from the very straightforward, ‘ridiculous bitch” to the audacious, “go fuck yourself, narcissistic prick.”

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

You set the Love Card back on your nightstand. After you splashed mild water onto your face from the sink, you started multitasking, attempting to brush your teeth and remove your pyjama bottoms at the same time. Then, there was a knock at your door. You spared a glance through the peephole while the toothbrush hung from the corner of your mouth and the frigid air hit your bare legs. Upon recognizing the face reflected through the fisheye lens, you nearly choked on the mint-flavoured spit collected at the back of your throat, which forced you to unpleasantly compose yourself at the kitchen sink.

He knocked again, and you pulled the door open almost immediately, probably appearing as though you just hiked through the wilderness. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he smiled at you.

“Damn. Sleep well?” He remarked, looking you up and down.

You were in the midst of a yawn as you answered. “Um, yes. I-I mean no. Wait, I don’t know what I’m saying. What was the question?”

Jeonghan nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” He then reached into the pocket on his flannel coat. “Anyways, I have your phone. You left it on my bedside table the other night. Figured it’s kind of useful, I guess.”

“Oh my god. I did that?” You winced, realizing you must have been so tired and discombobulated from Jeonghan blowing your brains out that you forgot. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Leaning your temple against the door, you sighed. “How was that dinner thing with your parents? Was it any fun?”

The boy shook his head, pulling out his car keys and tossing them from hand to hand. “No. It was all business bullshit. What they want me to do with my future after I graduate uni. How to be responsible with my money since they think I’m gonna blow it in a few years. Trying to structure my life around stuff I don’t really give a damn about.”

“O-Oh…” You frowned, “well, was there at least good food?”

Jeonghan stopped playing with his keys and titled his head at you. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes gentle, “they had great red velvet cake.”

Unfortunately, your neighbours must have woken up and decided it was a little too peaceful at such an hour, because you heard a loud, clanging thump echo from the room beside yours, like someone had dropped a metal pot or pan on the ground. Of course, the yelling started.

It didn’t last nearly as long compared to the night before, just a few scolding comments which were ultimately muffled. You wondered what Jeonghan was thinking as he blinked at the neighbour’s door and realized how despairing the narrow, dimly-lit hallway looked. After visiting his high-end apartment numerous times based in the luxury core of the city, with its beautiful architecture and sparkle, you were frankly a bit humiliated he was witnessing this drab part of your life – the reason you were seeking his service in the first place. You apologized through your teeth for the commotion, though Jeonghan merely shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But those two next door can be a handful sometimes. I don’t get it. If they hate each other, then just break up. Get divorced. It’s like they want to be miserable on purpose.”

“Bet you wish you could get the hell outta here, huh?”

“All the time.” You replied wistfully. “I’m thinking of going to the mall today, actually. I need a new bath towel. Whatever gets me away.”

“You want a ride there?” Jeonghan asked, shaking his keys.

At that, you smiled a little too wide. “Maybe.”

Carefully, you picked up a thin, glass bottle of pink perfume from the display counter, tilting the liquid back and forth as the lights gleamed off the gold nozzle. Everything inside the store was diamond bright and almost blinding, while the air smelled strongly of expensive floral. The employees were tailored in smooth, sophisticated suits, which made you more petrified than usual to touch anything, hence your very delicate inspection of the perfume as you waited for Jeonghan to finish his conversation with the front clerk. Since his father’s collection was sold at the boutique, Jeonghan seemed to have a cordial relationship with the staff, and they had recognized him almost immediately.

As most of their merchandise was quite expensive, you always ignored the boutique until Jeonghan suggested you stop by. It didn’t help that there was actually some cute clothing begging to be bought, though you knew one swift glance at the price tag would change your mind. You brought the perfume bottle close to your nose and inhaled lightly.

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

You sniffed again. “It’s sweet, though it’s not strong.”

“Let me smell.” He said, and so you raised the bottle up to his nose. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around yours as he took a breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “That’s all wrong. I don’t like it.”

“It is kind of high schoolish.” You told him, setting the test bottle back onto the counter as though you were laying down a jewel. “I just need a new scent, you know? I actually love that one bottle your mom did, the summer tropic one. It’s so peachy but mild. I’m running out.”

“For real?” Jeonghan laughed, his eyes skipping over the different shaped containers. “You use one of my mom’s perfumes?”

“Um, yeah. Have you even smelled the tropic one? It’s amazing.”

“I don’t hang around her laboratory too often.” He replied. “It gives me a big fucking headache. Smells like this place times a hundred.”

You shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable.”

Suddenly, Jeonghan had latched his hand around your elbow, pulling you around to the opposite side of the counter. He grabbed a tall, slim bottle that was made from foggy glass and a chrome silver pump.

“C’mon, give me your wrist for a second.” He said. “Try this scent. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of you.”

Pulling up your sleeve, you stuck out your wrist and allowed him to spray a thin layer against the skin. Then, you sniffed the area. At first, your forehead crinkled as you attempted to decipher its concoction of notes. There was something a little fresh and cool, but then there was this oddly mature hint of a distinguished floral scent. You couldn’t pinpoint the flower, but it was certainly addictive and very intriguing.

“It’s called Orchid Night. Smells great, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, rolling your sleeve back down “just don’t tell me what it costs. It has to be at least fifty bucks.”

“Try sixty-nine,” Jeonghan corrected, “plus tax, don’t forget.”

Immediately, you grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned the perfume to its small podium on the countertop.

“Well, let’s put it back before we break it.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I could buy it for you.”

For a split second, you were tempted to succumb, though you snapped from the thought at the last second and shook your head.

“No way. I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

He buried his hands in his pockets, rolling those gold-copper eyes of his. Jeonghan made sure to purposefully bump into you as he walked down the bright aisle toward the clothes. “Honestly, you’re so boring, man. That scent, on you? It would be sexy.” The boy then turned around to smother you with a burning gaze. “But, fine. Have it your way.”

You hurried after him, scoffing lightheartedly to camouflage the fact your heart was beating like a broken pendulum. Jeonghan had stopped at a rack of neatly pressed clothing to sort through the hangers.

“My way is the better way,” you smiled, “always.”

Jeonghan moved the long-sleeved button-up he’d been eyeing back onto the rack, merely blowing out a puff of air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Besides, I still need to get my bath towel.”

“We can find it on the bottom floor. At the new essentials store that just opened up. The Shower Duck, I think.”

“The Shower what?”

He couldn’t help but cackle while repeating himself. “The Shower Duck. You thought I said something else, didn’t you?”

When you were too tongue-twisted to reply, Jeonghan decided to place his fingers softly on your chin, holding your head still as he leaned in very closely to whisper, “you’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” You almost hated how casually he pulled away and continued to examine the clothing, as though he hadn’t just murmured a lascivious comment into your ear while the employees were standing a mere few meters across the store. More than anything, you desired the courage to deservingly tease him in return, to break that relaxed little shtick of his. Except, you weren’t confident nor subtle enough to attempt anything in public.

But when your eyes landed on that brand-new lingerie set wrapped primly on the nearest mannequin, you had a wonderful idea.

“No, are you being serious? Why? Why?”

His blunt fingernails sunk into the leather arms of the desk chair, scraping upward, as equally frustrated with your cruel antics as he was aroused and impatient. Maybe it was somewhat meanspirited to strut the thin, beautiful lace and ribbons curled around your body in a baby pink, and indeed, there was a moment where you pondered leniency, though, you severed the thought, because Jeonghan would surely tear each garter and bow from your outfit like it hadn’t cost anything at all. Pursing your bottom lip, you smiled, sinister and cold.

“I am being serious,” you stated firmly, nearing closer to his desk chair, “your hands won’t touch a single part of me, Jeonghan.”

He glared up at you with a dark, flickering fire in his eyes,  as if he were already weighing the consequence to breaking such rules. You began to sit comfortably on the boy’s lap, curling your arms around his neck while maintaining the intensity of the stare.

“And, if you do, I’ll grab my things and leave. It’ll just be you and your hand, for the rest of the night.” Purposefully, you brushed delicate lips, featherlight, along his warm, red-tinged ear, to which you could practically feel him harden underneath you upon the whisper, “and there’ll be nothing you can do other than remembering how good it felt when I was in your lap, grinding down on you, baby boy, just like this.”

Slowly and with focus, you rolled your hips in a deep, smooth gyration, ensuring Jeonghan felt the heavy pressure against all the right places. His hands keened for your waist, so you immediately reminded him of your unnegotiable rules, forcing them to settle on the arms of the chair. He drew in a sharp breath. And then, he started to laugh, like a beaten protagonist receiving their first, acrid taste of defeat. Jeonghan titled his head back to smile very lazily at you.

“Evil.” He said. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, continuing the unhurried, steadfast pace of your hips rolling back and forth, observing with poorly hidden glee as the boy lost his smile, “but you’ll still cum, won’t you, Jeonghan?”

Before he could sneak in a clever rebuttal, you adjusted yourself even lower onto his lap, digging your nails down the back of his neck as you circled a thorough motion against his erection. Admittedly, it was difficult to maintain the domineering act. Even through the black material of the slacks, his cock was managing to create a friction with your lace underwear, a friction so rough yet fruitless that you were already tempted to take him, full and aching inside you. In order to distract yourself, you licked the tender side to Jeonghan’s neck, looping your tongue in a messy, warm pattern overtop a sensitive vein.

“Ff-fuck,” Jeonghan stuttered, scraping harshly along the chair, “you devilish little girl, c-can’t believe you’re g’nna make me cum like this—b-but it feels so damn good the way you’re moving, baby.”

You suckled until you’d drawn a shiny, wine-coloured hue to the surface of Jeonghan’s skin, to mark a dark bruise as a keepsake. He kept breathing through a parted mouth, each exhale shakier and more erratic than the last, his knuckles hard like stone while they gratingly tensed and betrayed his frustration at not being able to touch you. With slow, teasing hands, you began to drag them down his chest, nails clawing at the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Jeonghan squirmed. He clenched his jaw and cursed rough under his breath. You focused on where his cock was poking you to apply the most dizzying pressure thus far, rolling your hips until something inside Jeonghan snapped and you felt him cum.

“Jesus—fuck!” He shouted, the loudest you had ever heard the boy, and there was a notable tear in his usually soft voice. “Keep going, keep going,” Jeonghan panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “keep fucking moving just like that, sweetheart. A-Ahh, ff-fuck, feels s-so good—"

At the pulsating sensation right beneath your core, you submitted to Jeonghan’s wish and continued grinding down, even if you were beginning to tire at your lack of stamina. However, there came a point where you were too breathless to maintain such a pace, so you trickled to a halt and steadied your hands on his firm shoulders. He tossed his head back, neck leaned against the edge of the chair. The hazy, glass look to his brown eyes and the rose glow smeared on each cheek made it appear as though he’d just touched down from heaven. As you shifted slightly in Jeonghan’s lap, you noticed the white stream of cum that had soaked through his pants, and that somehow, he was still hard.

“I didn’t know you could beg, Jeonghan.” You remarked, grinning, meanwhile attempting to catch your breath.

He shook his head. “Don’t expect it too much.”

“Well, I can tell you’re satisfied, either way.”

He chuckled, brushing some of the loose hairs from his face. You felt his hands settle upon your waist’s bare skin, warm and squeezing. In that moment, you just didn’t possess the same acuteness to scold him.

“Almost,” Jeonghan huffed, “but, what do you suppose you’ll do to please yourself, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, until his forehead was just a sliver away from bumping yours, the boy sliding a hand down your abdomen and beneath the lace underwear. As he stroked the tips of his fingers along your slit, he smirked. “I’ve never felt someone so wet before, dripping all over my fingers and I’m barely touching you. Did it turn you on that much, sweetheart? Feeling my hard cock right underneath this needy pussy of yours?” Jeonghan teased with a smirk and a low, calm tone. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to duct tape his mouth shut or allow him to keep talking, as there was something about his honeyed voice which wound you up like clockwork.

Yet, before you could even start the syllable of a response, Jeonghan pushed you strongly from his lap, his hands glued to your waist as he guided you to stumble against the bed. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets puffing up around you. And then, Jeonghan was kissing you, lips clashing messily while he took advantage of the switched power dynamic to run his hands over your every inch. One second, they were cupping your breasts overtop the baby pink bralette. Another second, they were grabbing at your ass and kneading so desperately. You were being ravaged. It was overwhelming, it was gratifying, it was needed beyond belief.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said, separating his mouth from the side of your throat to stare at you with an oddly sentimental eye, “before I get all up in your guts and everything— you look beautiful. Even if you did choose this outfit to be a big fucking tease.” His fingers brushed down the edge of your jaw, and he smiled at you in a way that wasn’t clever or teetering on sarcasm. Your heart leapt like a little frog in your chest.

“Really?” You questioned him, not because you didn’t believe the lingerie suited your figure, but rather, you weren’t expecting this sweetness from someone who was always so quick to get rid of you.

He nodded, raising a suspecting eyebrow. “Yeah, really. What, you think I’m lying to you or something?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you answered quickly, curling your fingers into the bedsheets, “I just—I wasn’t… Uh, never mind.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan laughed, lowering his head to delicately kiss your cheek, and then your neck, “you’re a bit strange sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled against the sensitive skin, even daring to dig his knee between your thighs to make you increasingly pliable.

“I-I know,” you stuttered, unable to help your embarrassing voice crack. But you still smiled, letting Jeonghan explore and pleasure your body with an uncharacteristic tenderness for the remainder of the night.

Twelve am.

Usually, at this time, you’d be at the bottom floor of his apartment complex, seated by the lobby water fountain. You’d be examining your face with a pocket mirror, awaiting the yellow taxi cab, and trying to avoid eye contact with the wealthy businesspeople filtering from the elevators in glamourous congregation.

However, tonight was different.

Tonight, you were in Jeonghan’s bed, with a white sheet covering the lower half of your bodies, an ear pressed to his bare, warm chest while you breathed him in like the wind on a bright summer’s day. You felt his fingertips trace long figure eights down your spine and then dance back up to the subtle curve of your shoulder blades. Sometimes it tickled, other times it was a touch so soft it was hardly there, and in between you thought he might have been tracing words. The room was quiet. But good quiet— the comfortable quiet. And then you heard Jeonghan speak into the crown of your head while his hand stilled at your waist.

“Did that salon ever call you back?” He asked.

You sighed, focusing on your thumb which brushed a small freckle on his pectoral muscle. “They emailed me, and said their position was already filled, but that they’ll try to look for another opening.”

Jeonghan rubbed your hip. “That’s good, right? I mean, they didn’t just flat out reject you. They’re gonna keep you in mind.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to getting,” you answered, pressing your lips together and tilting your head up at him.

And, that’s when it struck you, like someone had just clanged a bell right beside your head. You were still in Jeonghan’s bed. You were still in Jeonghan’s apartment. You were still with Jeonghan. Feeling as though you’d broken some vastly significant cardinal rule, you operated on a strange basis of panic and autopilot, already seated at the edge of the mattress while you tucked your underwear back on.

“I’m sorry,” you spewed, reaching for your shirt next and straightening it out frantically in your lap, “the time escaped me. I-I know I have to go. And, my Love Card, I think it’s in my purse or—”

“Can you slow down?” Jeonghan laughed, casting a hand through his loose, disarrayed hair which you had admittedly tugged earlier in the night like your life depended on it. The boy’s arms circled around your midframe, hugging your back to his chest. “I don’t care about that stupid card right now,” Jeonghan hummed into your ear, “stay.”

At that, you almost choked. “Stay? You want me to stay?” You repeated dumbly, dropping the inside-out shirt back onto your lap.

The coldest shiver split down your spine as Jeonghan buried his face against your neck, taking a breath of your scent, kissing your skin.

“Yeah,” he purred, now pecking the soft spot behind your ear, “I want you to stay. Or, if you really want to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“No,” you replied almost immediately, melting into his voice, his touch, his body, “trust me, I’d rather be here.”

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

Even though you had strongly protested the idea, Jeonghan succeeded at wearing you down akin to an ocean tide forming whorls into rock, and now you were seated before your vanity with an array of makeup scattered at your fingertips as you prepared for a dinner. His parents were going to be there, in addition to some business partners and close friends, which sounded like something from a hellish nightmare. In fact, Jeonghan himself didn’t seem all that eager to attend. He’d been sprawled across your bed for the past half hour, with the long drapes of his coat fanned around him, as he flipped through an old magazine. You were certain he just didn’t want to tough another dinner alone.

After focusing a spritz of perfume to your neck (the orchid one, bought by Jeonghan, because he was very insistent that you not smell like his mother) you shut off the vanity lights and sighed.

“I think I’m ready… Physically though, not mentally.”

Jeonghan yawned, tossing the magazine aside before he pushed himself to sit upright on the bed. He rubbed at his eye.

“Trust me, it’s not going to be the big, royal midnight ball that you’re picturing. My parents have these dinners all the time. You’ll be the centre of attention for a few minutes, and then it’s pretty much just business central from there. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a word in. I stopped trying months ago.”

You smiled at him, feeling slightly better about the situation, and took one last, scrutinizing glance in the mirror. The dress was simple yet elegant, a mute shade of dark blue with a beaded, crystal belt that you had forgotten about, as you discovered it laying behind a stool shoved in your closet. The fabric had an elastic tightness to it and was hemmed shorter than you remembered, just above your fingertips. You tried not to judge or overthink the figure which reflected in the vanity glass, or what Jeonghan’s parents might assume upon their first introduction to someone who was so clueless on their accolades. It was merely a dinner.

“Stop worrying so much,” Jeonghan hummed, sensing that you were at the forefront of a spiral. His hands settled to your hips and he caught your eye through the mirror. “No one is going to judge you, or poke fun at you, or say anything mean. I promise.” He then grabbed your winter coat off the bed, helping you slide into the arms, and even doing up the buttons. “You’re gorgeous.” Jeonghan said, tapping your chin.

It didn’t help that he could fluster you so easily.

Joshua wasn’t at all who you expected him to be, while simultaneously encompassing everything you would indeed expect from the position of Jeonghan’s closest friend. He was a juxtaposition personified. Slick, ash blonde hair combed into a handsome wave, eyes which twinkled like the restaurant’s diamond chandelier, and a soothing voice which could be a cup of warm milk on a frosty day, though his interactions with Jeonghan portrayed him as childlike and frivolous. He greeted you, at first with a quick hug. You heard him exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Joshua commented, retreating to shake your hand, “you smell amazing! I mean—well, I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You laughed, and wondered how someone could smile with such a prettiness. “Thank you! I’d be upset if you didn’t notice, actually.”

Joshua continued to shake your hand. “Oh, yeah, agree. It’s wonderful to meet you. Jeonghan’s been trying to hide you, it seems.”

“Go shove a break stick in your mouth,” Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a loose piece of hair from his eyes, “and stop shaking her hand like that. You’re gonna snap her whole arm off.”

Finally, Joshua released his grip, and your arm fell back to your side like a limp noodle. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“I was not. Anyways—” he nodded at you, “like I said, nice to meet you. I hope we’ll talk more tonight and I’ll pick your brain.”

“Sure thing,” you answered, waving the boy off as he returned to the dinner table before facing Jeonghan. “He seems nice.”

“And totally into you. I haven’t seen him shake someone’s hand like that since I introduced him to Elouise from France. He’s gonna turn into a lost puppy all over again. Bet he’ll try to sweet talk you later.”

“Can’t wait.” You grinned, already giggling through your teeth.

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

However, meeting Jeonghan’s parents was starkly different than the good-humoured Joshua. They both appeared cross, and firm, and before you had even shaken their hands you were forced to wipe yours against your dress. The father was a bit softer around the edges, showing you a pleased smile that reminded you instantaneously of Jeonghan, while the mother was stone-faced and seemed as though she hadn’t slouched since birth. Even when she complimented your fragrance, there was a tartness to her voice which made it sound disingenuous.

“Well, Jeonghan,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I’m glad to finally see you with a lovely lady on your arm. I didn’t think it was possible that you could settle for someone after being with Baejin.”

“Oh?” The father piped up, “you’re my son’s girlfriend?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had beaten you to it.

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[  9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than  fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was  able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout  sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,”  you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader

[egcdeath]

in plain sight

summary: steve makes your mission to pose as a married couple in the suburbs much easier than you expected.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: fake dating, soooo much fluff, bed sharing, lots of dialogue, domesticity

author’s note: remember that throw away line from act natural about going undercover as a married couple? well... thats how this fic was born. you definitely don’t have to read act natural though.

this is also part of my own sitcom challenge! i used the prompt someone has to pretend to be someone/something they’re not, and “I spewed out so much bullshit, I'm gonna need a mint.” 

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Your leg bounced in anticipation as you sat in the passenger seat of an oversized U-Haul next to Steve, only the sound of radio filling your ears. 

Occasionally, you glanced over to observe the man. You checked out his new, thick beard, the hair on top of his head that was box dyed much darker, and his light eyes that were focused on the road. You couldn’t help but feel… weird when he hummed quietly along to the music from the truck’s radio, feeling oddly intimate for two people who barely knew each other, despite being on the same team as each other.

After hours in the car, Steve pulled up to a rather large house on the edge of a small Midwestern town. The porch was large and still furnished, and the driveway was long enough for Steve to pull in with no problem. You looked up at the colonial styled home, and took a deep breath. 

“You ready to do this, Joseph?” 

Steve nodded, “ready as I can be.”

——

You’d settled in much easier than you’d expected, spending the first few hours at your new place unloading the few boxes that were in the moving truck and unpacking them. This turned out to be a rather easy task when you had a super soldier doing the majority of the heavy lifting, both literally and figuratively.

You tried to keep things as not-awkward as they could be, spending the majority of your move in time with headphones on top of your head that were large enough to deter any person with adequate social skills from you. 

You felt a bit guilty as you hung clothes up in the closet of the master bedroom, Steve opting to stay in a guest suite. It really wasn’t fair of you to be avoiding Steve like this, especially when he didn’t particularly ask to go on this mission. 

To make it worse, this was your first mission as an official Avenger, after the fall of a corrupt SHIELD. You were just slightly disappointed, as becoming the neighbor of an arms dealer in order to take him out didn’t exactly seem like the same level of excitement as your past field work.

Finishing up the last of the clothing, you flopped onto the mattress in the connected bedroom, only having the chance to enjoy your position for a moment before the chime of a doorbell rang throughout the house, alerting you of someone’s presence. 

You sat up and rose from your place on the bed, exiting the bedroom and making your way through the hallway, peeking down the stairs at the front door while Steve answered it. 

“Hi there,” a middle aged woman exclaimed, observing Steve’s figure and offering him a smile. “You just moved in, right?”

You recognized that pale, round face, even from afar. She was your target’s wife, and apparently, your new next door neighbor. You took a deep breath before going down the stairs in the coolest manner you could muster, trying to hold your excitement in. You didn’t even have to approach them first! Maybe this mission was going to be easier than you’d expected.

You appeared right next to Steve as he’d finished introducing himself, notifying him of your presence with an oddly natural kiss on the cheek. You were really trying to sell this. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted. It didn’t even sound weird coming from him. “This is Cathy, our new neighbor. Cathy, this is my wife, Ella,” Steve wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you closer to him.

“So good to meet you, Cathy,” you grinned.

“Great to meet you, Ella! I was just stopping by to welcome you both to the neighborhood.”

“You’re so kind! We really appreciate it,” you hummed.

“Any dinner plans tonight?” Cathy asked, glancing between you and your partner.

You looked towards Steve, who looked back at you with a shrug. You almost felt like you were communicating telepathically, agreeing that any in with your target was a good in.

“We were probably just going to stay in,” Steve offered.

“Well, that’s no fun! Why don’t you two come by our place tonight? I’m sure Zack would love to meet his new neighbors.”

You beamed in a manner that would put Cheshire Cat to shame. Maybe Cathy would just think you were happy to be welcomed so warmly, “that actually sounds perfect,” you gushed. 

“Yeah? Does 6:30 work for you?”

Steve gave you that telepathic look again. Despite his poker face, you could tell he was just as excited about this as you were, “that’s perfectly fine with us,” he nodded.

“See you then?” you added.

——

You’d just finished putting on your shoes when Steve showed up beside you, dressed in some of the most casual attire you’d ever seen the man in. While the whole Captain America tactical getup tended to suit him well, it was nothing compared to the sight of him in jeans and a button-up shirt. Okay, maybe you shouldn’t be thirsting so hard over someone you were about to play house with. Maybe you’re just method acting?

“That dress looks really great on you,” Steve complimented out of the blue. If you weren’t mistaken, you felt a tiny tug in your stomach.

“Aw, thank you, Steve. You don’t look too bad yourself,” you gave him a little wink, and pushed open your front door. After stepping outside, you let out a big breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. Steve trailed about a foot behind you for good measure, hands in his pockets while you both made the short trek to your new neighbors’ home.

Moments after Steve rang their doorbell, he slipped a hand from his pocket out, and to your side, offering it to you. You instinctively returned the gesture, putting your palm next to his and lacing your fingers. 

Just as you did so, the door swung open, and a man whose face you’d only seen in files was welcoming you. This must’ve been Zack. 

He corralled you into the house where you swore you took your shoes off, and were sitting in their dining room with food on your plates after 30 seconds, tops.

The couple immediately began berating you with questions, how you met, where you were from, why you decided to move in. If you didn’t know better, you’d suspect that they were suspicious of your existence. In reality, they just seemed to want to know more about their neighbors, specifically Steve, who was set to start working for Zack in just a few days.

About an hour into a dinner filled with white lies and improvisations of your past, you could tell that things were beginning to wind down. You leaned back comfortably in your chair as Zack and Steve spoke about football.

“Cath, where’s your bathroom?” you asked casually.

“Our downstairs bathroom is currently… out of order. But if you go upstairs and directly down the hall, you should find it on your right,” she responded.

This must’ve been your lucky day, or something. You had the perfect excuse to go upstairs and rummage through their shit! And of course, after you excused yourself from the table, you did.

You rummaged through dressers, trying to find anything slightly incriminating, but your search came to no avail. You lifted up a corner of their mattress and glanced under it, but still, nothing.

You looked up from where you were standing and glanced out through one of their oddly large windows. Your eyes widened and brows furrowed when you saw what you saw, a very clear view of your own window. The lamp sitting dormant on your nightstand. The soft blues of your duvet. This was going to be a problem.

As you head back down to the lower level, you caught a bit of the conversation and frowned.

“I swear, you just look so familiar!” Zack laughed. You could almost imagine the awkward and forced smile that was likely sitting on Steve’s face.

“I get that all the time, really!” Steve chuckled back uncomfortably. You hurried down the rest of the stairs, figuring that as silly as this interaction was, it was probably in your best interest to help out your fake husband.

You made your way back into the dining room, going straight to the back of Steve’s seat, and giving his shoulder a little squeeze. 

You leaned down and whispered a quiet, “we should go,” into his ear, and weren’t surprised when he echoed you in a louder voice directed at your hosts.

“We really appreciated dinner, but this one’s getting sleepy,” he jeered.

“Pasta always makes me tired,” you forced a yawn, playing along. 

“We should get going,” Steve hummed, standing up

“Thanks again for having us,” you grinned, slipping your shoes on by the door.

“We should definitely do this again soon. Next time at our place?” Steve offered, holding the door open for you.

You sidestepped him as you walked out onto their porch, heading down their stairs two at a time.

“I was snooping in their bedroom and uh, you can definitely see the master bedroom from their window,” you sighed.

“Well, we have blinds all over the house. That shouldn’t be an issue.”

“We still have silhouettes, pal. Look, I know this sounds crazy, but you can’t stay in the guest bedroom.”

“You mean…” Steve trailed off.

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to mean anything, though. Maybe I can get us two twin beds, or something.”

“It’s fine, I mean, we’re adults. I’m sure we can control ourselves for a few months, or however long this takes us.”

——

You were nearly three months into your mission, and getting way too invested in this lie. In fact, you were digging yourself a bit deeper every day. It was hard not to, when you were climbing into bed every night with an astoundingly attractive super soldier, and essentially playing house with him.

In the mornings you’d make him coffee and toast before he went off to do whatever strange job it was that he was doing, in the evenings you’d watch movies together while he massaged your feet. 

Steve seemed to be keeping up on his end, calling out a “Honey I’m home!” with every arrival that began to seem less and less ironic with each entrance. He did dishes with you, folded your laundry, and he may or may not have begged you to teach him how to dance, leading to far too many instances where he stepped on your foot, and apologized so profusely that the sound of the record player was completely drowned out. 

You sat in your backyard while pondering this, deep in thought as you tended to your budding snap peas.

“Ella,” you heard from somewhere behind you, leading you to turn your head.

Leaning on your side of the fence, Cathy gave you a big toothy grin. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m doing great! And you?” you questioned, standing up and wiping off some of the dirt that had landed on your lap.

“I’m doing good myself. How’s the hubby?”

You wandered over to her, and she brought her hand up to her brows to shield her face from the sun. “We’re doing well. We just love the neighborhood. Everyone is so sweet and hospitable here!” you gushed.

“Aww,” she cooed, “that’s great to hear. Any chance you’re thinking about stopping by our book club sometime? I mean, we’re about to start a new novel. Some romance murder mystery.”

You shrugged at this invite, mulling it over, “I mean, I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Do you work?” she questioned. 

“Mm, not really. At least since we moved. I used to work full time, but that wasn’t really for me. Joe makes enough with this new position, so now I kinda just day drink until he gets back and play around in the garden.”

Cathy giggled at this and shook her head fondly, “I remember when I was young like you. A little bored, but happy and in love. Sometimes, you remind me a little of Zack and I. I see how he looks at you, dear. You’re a very cute couple, it’s honestly hard not to root for you. But I guess that’s besides the point right now. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll find something to do soon.”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck at this comment and looked down, embarrassed from the mention of your very false relationship, you latched onto the one unrelated comment. “That’s very sweet of you. Y’know, J and I are actually thinking about hosting some sort of neighborhood get together before summer ends, as a way to celebrate.” 

The lie slipped out of your mouth before you even had a chance to really think it over. Damn Natasha and her lying seminars. 

“Really?” No. “I’ll make sure to tell all the ladies at the club about it!” Please don’t.

“That would be lovely! I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” she hummed, “as long as you attend our next meeting.”

You chuckled, “deal.”

——

“Honey, I’m home!” Steve called out as he entered from the garage. 

“In the living room!” you responded, popping up from the sofa onto your feet.

Steve walked in and plopped right down onto the couch with a yawn, his now dirty white shirt straining against his chest as he did so. 

“Long day?” you questioned, finding yourself situated on the furniture next to him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, rubbing his forehead with his palm.

“Well, I have some news,” you crossed your legs, “I may or may not have promised Cath to throw a little party on Saturday…”

“Saturday?” Steve repeated, surprise laced in his voice.

“Sorry…” you offered.

“It’s fine, that’s just… We’ll have to crunch.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. If I order you a pizza will you accept my apology?” you gave him a knowing look and he returned it. 

You hopped up from the sofa and shook your head, “you’re an easy bargain.”

“Hey!”

——

“Is it so wrong of me to believe that you’ve been secretly waiting for this moment for all your life?” you asked as Steve tossed a few packages of hot dogs into your cart.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re just way too enthused,” you giggled as Steve resumed pushing the cart down the aisle of open fridges. “Have you forgotten we’re on a mission, Captain?”

He glanced back at you as you trailed behind him and shook his head, “can I not enjoy myself while we’re on a mission? What do people say, enjoy what you do and you never work a day in your life?”

“Something like that,” you nodded, picking up the pace so you could catch up with him.

“And don’t start throwing stones while you’re staying in that glass house. I’ve seen you smile more in this last month than I’d ever seen you smile before.”

“Well, this has been a fun mission. And you’re a great partner,” you hummed, grabbing a package of cheese slices from another refrigerator.

Steve didn’t respond, but the infectious beam on his face said more than enough. 

——

Okay, what were the odds that you’d died and gone to heaven?

You sat on the porch ‘reading’ a book while Steve pushed the lawn mower across your yard in preparation for your party. To be honest, you were doing much more gawking than reading as he did so, but who could blame you?

Steve seemed so focused on the ground, trying to keep your lawn as neat as possible before your guests arrived. Occasionally, he’d look up at you on the porch at the same moment that you were studying him, and the second your eyes met, matching heat would creep up both of your necks.

While the shy glances made you feel a bit like a naive schoolgirl, you couldn’t help but wish for more; that the sweet simplicity of your domestic life with Steve wouldn’t have to end once your mission ended.

——

Rows of cars lined your curb, and a mixture of loud music and chatter filled your backyard. You sipped on cheap margarita mix as you watched Steve flip burgers by the grill, aviators perched on top of his nose. He looked like a classic suburban dad, and you were certainly not the only person eating it up.

“Thank you for hosting, El,” Sydney, no, Daphne? commented, bumping her hip into yours and pulling you out of your minor Steve induced trance. “You should totally make an announcement.”

“Do people really do that? I thought that was like, movie stuff.”

She shrugged dismissively, “most of your guests are here, maybe just thank them for coming or something.”

You walked up to Steve’s side, where he was still dutifully attending the grill, and serving your guests.

“What’s up?” he questioned cooly, setting down the spatula in his hands and lifting his sunglasses to look at you better. 

“We’re supposed to make an announcement and thank the guests, or something.”

“Would you like to do it?”

You shook your head, “you can’t pull out one of those great team captain speeches?”

Steve pressed his lips together tightly, “fine. But you should really be getting out of your comfort zone.”

“Oh shut it,” you giggled, “you just can’t help yourself. That’s why your ‘thank you’ announcement would be eons better than mine.”

He playfully tutted, and gave you just a hint of a smirk, “alright, fine. Have you eaten yet?”

“Mm, not yet, Dad.”

“Ew, don’t call me that. It’s kinda weird.” “Why’s that?”

“I mean, we’re supposed to be a married couple. I don’t want to think of you as my daughter,” he faked a shiver and you playfully rolled your eyes, biting your lip to hold back a comical grin.

Watching the scene in front of you, you smiled. For what must’ve been the thousandth time, a dangerous, yet tempting thought crossed your mind.

You could get used to this.

——

Hours of kids scrambling in your yard, parents drinking much more than they should’ve, and tedious small talk left you and Steve cleaning up your yard in the dead of night.

“God, I spewed out so much bullshit, I’m gonna need a mint,” you laughed, words somewhat slurring together from the amount of booze you drank.

“At this point, we’re gonna need a notebook filled with all the lies we’ve told in order to keep up with them,” Steve agreed with a chuckle.

“This mission’s gonna be over much sooner than it should be if we don’t get our story straight,” you added, collecting half empty beer cans from your lawn.

“Shit, how could I forget to tell you? Fury called last night,” Steve said, bringing the recycling bin over to you. “Well don’t keep me waiting, what’d he say?” 

“We have all the intel we need on Zack, so…”

“So this is ending soon?” you frowned as you stood across from Steve, looking him deep in the eyes.

“We need to be out by Wednesday.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Your mood had clearly been dampened by this announcement, and despite the alcohol in your system giving you the desire to be chatty, you felt like you couldn’t speak at all. 

——

The soft hum of the bubble setting seemed to be taking up all the talking space between you and Steve as you relaxed into the hot tub. Your mission had officially come to an end, and after three months of pretending to be a couple, you couldn’t help but feel a little attached to the house, your neighbors, and of course, your fake husband. 

You took occasional sips from a lightly flavored seltzer, watching the sunset intently while you tried your best not to think of what life would be like following your mission. How your bed would be empty and cold once again, how you wouldn’t have anyone to leave cheesy post-it notes out for, and how you wouldn’t be able to maintain the type of relationship you had with Steve any longer.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, breaking the silence between you.

“Hmm?” you responded, feigning ignorance.

“You just look very… focused. What’s on your mind?”

You blinked up at the sky, “wanna know the truth?”

“Always. I mean, I’m your husband after all,” he chuckled, turning his knees towards you and practically demanding your attention with just his body language. 

“I’m gonna miss this place. We’ve made some really good memories here.”

He nodded slowly, the hint of a frown tugging on his lips. “We have. I mean, I can think of about a hundred funny stories that the team’ll love.”

“I’m sure,” you laughed softly, your heart not completely into it.

“I’m gonna miss it here too, you know,” he added after a beat. “Every moment I spent with you was a great one.”

You internally swooned, scooting a little closer to Steve and setting your head on his shoulder, “I could say the same for you.”

Out of reflex, Steve gently pressed a kiss to your forehead before looking out at the hues of pinks and purples in the sunset ahead of you. 

“I think I’m gonna miss these sunsets the most though,” you added, trying not to appear too sappy.

As you watched the sun fall, part of you hoped that Steve knew that the sunsets weren’t really the thing you’d miss most.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x y/n #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #chris evans x you #steve rogers fanfic

[trashytummiez]

The Worst Heartburn

I wrote yesterday's fic before seeing those last two pics @fungusfangs drew of Shiggy puking and chugging milk. So I decided to make a followup fic to cover the ending :3

Warning: contains belly kink bloating burps emeto hiccups indigestion nausea tummy play tummy rubs vomiting

Fallen pride was a bitch. Shigaraki just ate a massive bucket of Wumbo Extra Spicy Shrimp Ramen just to prove to Dabi he could. It left him with a big pooching tummy and a momentary high of smug satisfaction that quick went crashing down when his stomach began gurgling the worst gurgles Shigaraki had felt in ages. The immensely bloated young villain cradled his belly in a sickly manner burping heavily while Dabi watched with a smug grin on his scarred face.

But then Shigaraki gave a really deep and rumbling burp that started getting really wet at the end making Shigaraki cover his mouth and muffle the rest. His eyes widened like he felt something come up with that burp.

"...Unnf...ohh fuck I don't feel good..." Shigaraki grumbled until he gave an incredibly rich and gross closed mouth burp that got so wet at the end something else came up with the gas. When he tried to burp in his mouth again something even wetter rushed up and his eyes practically bugged out of his young but wrinkled face.

Dabi's grin dropped as fast as Shigaraki's did.

"...Oh shit..." Dabi uttered when he saw Shigaraki's body tense up. "Whoa whoa whoa whoa! Aim for the cup! Dude aim for the cup! Aim for the-"

Too late.

Because Shigaraki lurched forward with a large sloppy burp that brought with it a surge of vomit that splattered onto the ground...right next to the big noodle cup funnily enough. Shigaraki grabbed his bare stomach and held it firmly as he violently threw up those painfully spicy noodles.

"...Goddammit Tomura..." Dabi groaned and looked away with a shade of green on the patches of pale flesh he had across his face.

Dabi possessing the weak stomach that he did turned away and clamped his pierced nose shut. For as stoic and cheeky as he was the sight of anyone throwing up was enough to make him sick.

Shigaraki panted with his mouth hanging open as strands of drool seeped from his fangs.

"Unnngh...unf...mruhhh..." Shigaraki croaked weakly with tears streaming down his face. He thought it was over until another lurching feeling made his eyes and his mouth widen in time for another surge of bile to expel from his system. He puked heavily into the sick practically puking up the majority of noodles he ate which made his incredibly bloated tummy shrink down to the point where it was only bulging out in a normal bloat the way it had very early into his spiteful binge.

Dabi looked as miserable as Shigaraki did by the time he finally stopped throwing up.

"...Better?" he asked while looking away.

Shigaraki spat and panted giving a lifeless "uh-huh" as a response to his often antagonistic underling.

Shortly after some time had passed Dabi looked aside grouchily while using his cremation quirk to light the sick ablaze. The smell alone would've made Dabi puke his guts out as violently as Shigaraki did but because his flames were strong enough to burn someone's bones down to ash it made quick work of the mess Shigaraki left behind in no time flat and almost completely incinerated it to the point where even the smell was burned away.

While Dabi burned the ground a really wet burp caught his attention. He turned to the source which was Shigaraki all cleaned up and sitting on the couch ahead of Dabi chugging a gallon of milk. After showering himself clean Shigaraki changed into more casual wares that Twice was kind enough to get him. He was wearing an oversized gray t-shirt with sweatpants. His bare toes curled into the carpet while he brought the gallon back to his lips and greedily guzzled it down. Milk dribbled down his chin sloppily and spilled onto his chest while he kept one arm wrapped protectively around his still bloated stomach.

"...We might need to move y'know," Dabi uttered in a dry not remotely amused way while he watched Shigaraki cool his burning his mouth with the richness of heavy weighty and cold milk.

After pulling the gallon away Shigaraki gave another really deep burp and groaned.

"GruuuhblUurhp!!! Ungh...I have the worst heartburn right now..." he mumbled.

"...I can't imagine why..." Dabi replied and continued burning the spot where Shigaraki threw up until the spot itself was nothing but heavy smoldering soot on the ground.

Shigaraki was too miserable to pay Dabi's snark any mind. Instead he tried to take another swig of milk. But he had to stop before the bottle could reach his lips so he could burp again. He looked unsatisfied so he pounded his chest and gave a much bigger burp that left him moaning with relief. Satisfied he brought the bottle up to chug more milk and burped into it when he did so.

He just kept chugging more and more milk to cool his mouth and throat while also settling his aching tummy. It was definitely helping but again Shigaraki's belly swelled out from all the milk he was guzzling. Milk weighed so much more than water and gave his pooching tummy a more bottom heavy quality than it did when he was stuffed with noodles.

That cool creamy liquid felt so good going down. Usually too much cold at once was painful for Shigaraki but because everything burned it struck a perfectly cooling balance helping to settle everything instead of giving him brain and tummy freeze. But shigaraki's belly was getting so bloated that even his oversized shirt looked like it was barely containing his tummy after a while.

He got about halfway into his gallon then pulled the bottle away from his lips. Shigaraki panted breathlessly while milk continued dribbling down his chin and then he let out a really long burp. After wiping his mouth and chin clean Shigaraki set the bottle down and dropped his hands down on his big rounded belly. It jiggled heavily beneath his hands and made Shigaraki burp so loud that Dabi almost flinched at its harsh sound.

"Shit you weren't kidding about the heartburn were ya," Dabi complained as he rang his ear out.

Shigaraki huffed and pulled his shirt up. Straight away his big pale belly practically flopped out and spilled heavily against his crotch pushing his sweatpants down just a bit. It looked incredibly soft and jiggly from just how much milk Shigaraki had chugged. When he gave the side of it a pat the whole thing rippled under his hand and made all the liquids in his tummy slosh heavily and noisily.

"...Fuck I'm so goddamn bloated..." Shigaraki mumbled while he rubbed his smooth ample ball of a stomach tenderly. His fingers sank into his flesh while they ran up and down his tummy. Shigaraki ran his hands down until he was cupping his underbelly in both hands. The villain bit his lip and leaned back to scoop his belly up in his hands and lift it. He was kind of surprised at how good it felt and just marveled at the size of his tummy.

He gave his belly a little jiggle which made it sway heavily in his hands from all the milk sloshing around which made Shigaraki hiccup loudly. Then Shigaraki released his belly and let it bounce down over his pelvis then slapped his hands onto his belly to stabilize it with a satisfyingly fleshy thump. Doing so caused a massive burp to escape Shigaraki's mouth. The force was so strong that the flesh on his tummy quivered slightly.

Shigaraki's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he moaned and arched his back with relief curling his bare toes even more. "Fffffuck that was a good one..." Shigaraki groaned like he was in an almost sexual euphoria. That could've just been because Shigaraki was shameless and had no barriers to speak of.

Though the honest truth is the feeling of his stomach this full and feeling it up had an odd appeal to it for Shigaraki. Especially when one of his fingers began to fondle his deepened belly button. That feeling made shigaraki's spine tingle in a way he couldn't quite explain.

Dabi happened by when Shigaraki was playing with his navel and whistled as best as he could with his limited lower lip function. "Jeez when's the lil bastard due anyway?" He teased and patted Shigaraki's round pooching tummy.

The pat dislodged a gas bubble and caused Shigaraki to burp ferociously in Dabi's direction which made the scarred villains face sour.

Rather than look embarrassed or apologetic Shigaraki grinned a shameless almost drunken grin back at his subordinate. "It's due around the time someone finally gifts you a less thotty personality."

Dabi glared at Shigaraki and lightly punched Shigaraki's big jiggly belly. "I resemble that remark motherfuck-"

The cremator couldn't even finish his sentence before a giant burp erupted out of Shigaraki from the punch. Dabi could feel Shigaraki's belly reverberate and jostle from the pressure being released and immediately closed his eyes with a stoically murderous look. Shigaraki looked insufferably satisfied with how that played out.

"...Right well...fuck you very much," Dabi simply said and started to walk away.

"You're not going anywhere," Shigaraki said before Dabi could exit the room.

"Come again?" Dabi asked with a bemused look on his face.

Shigaraki held up a finger and grabbed his thick churning tummy with one hand. Then he balled his finger into a fist and brought it to his mouth in time to give a huge closed mouth burp that rumbled so hard in his mouth that his lips could barely hold it back. He carelessly blew the gas out of his mouth and gave Dabi a shiteating grin. "You hear this thing?" He asked and shook his engorged tummy around which made it jiggle and slosh while he hiccuped and burped afterwards. "Unf...I'm gonna be burping for at least an hour straight. And I'm definitely gonna want an audience for that..."

To prove his point Shigaraki slapped his glutted belly and gave a giant burp that crescendoed into a relieved sigh that had Shigaraki's tongue sticking out lewdly.

Dabi's facial expressions fell completely flat. His only response was to very slowly raise both of his middle fingers in Shigaraki's direction and point them as hard as he could at his villainous boss to really drive home the big "f u" he was getting at.

Shigaraki cackled which made his tummy jiggle heavily with his evil giggles.

Maybe riding this out wasn't going to suck as much as he thought.

Misery loves company after all.

#kink fic #shigaraki #dabi #belly kink #bloating #milk chug #burping #sick fic #vomiting #emeto #emetophilia #tummy rub #tummy ache #liquid bloat #kink discovery #hiccups #stuffing

[raineydays411]

You will remember my name

      Part 2 of Ember

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m so stoked y’all liked my first fic! I really appreciate all the love and support you guys have no idea. (This might have to stretch to three chapters lol)

Tony Stark X daughter!reader

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Tonys pov

A tense silence filled the halls of the Avengers tower. It’s been a week since Y/N left the tower in tears. It’s been two days since anyone has seen the girl to think of it.  The first few days it was thought the girl was just staying with a friend while she cooled off. But after the third day, a bad feeling settled in the stomachs of the heros. By the fourth day, they asked some of Y/Ns closest friends. 

No one has seen her.

Pepper called her aunt, Pamela Isely, but the women said that the last time she spoke to her god daughter was a week before this whole mess happened. 

By the time the week was over, it was concluded that Y/N Stark was missing. 

Tony Stark was not a perfect father. He knew that, of course he knew. I mean, he didn’t exactly have the positive male role models growing up other than Jarvis. He knew he wasn’t going to be a perfect father. He just never thought he’d screw up this badly.

He found out he had a daughter four months after the Battle of New York. He had gotten the news that an old fling of his had died during the attack. leaving behind a daughter. Feeling bad for the kid, he began to set up a college fund for her, as he knew what it was like to lose someone in a tragic way. At first he thought nothing of it, just simply seeing it as a good deed. But then one night, during one of his restless nights, he began doing the math and figured out that the age of the girl was just about nine months off from when he had...met her mother. Needless to say Pepper was shocked when she woke up to Tony passing out.

After a few minutes of being yelled at by Pepper and another hour of coming to terms with this discovery, Tony made plans to find the girl.

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Y/n pov

After explaining your situation with your father to the boy, you realize that you still didn’t know his name. Turning to him you ask for it. 

“Oh, my name is Daniel, Daniel Winston.”  You snort as you realize the irony of this ghost boys name. 

“You mean to tell me that your name is Daniel, and you’re a ghost with white hair??” He glares at you for a second then a small smile creeps on his face, “Well, despite the circumstances, it is kinda funny.”  You hum in agreement and let a comfortable silence take over as you try and figure out where you are and if you’re even in New York.

“Hey Danny?” You ask, “Where are you from?”  

“Bludhaven, I was walking home from school when I was taken. Why do you ask?” 

“Because” You reply,” I was taken from New York.” A heavy silence falls over you both as you realize that you’re both unfamiliar with your surroundings. There weren’t any markings to indicate where you were. The base was nestled in a corner of abandoned buildings that looked like factories. The sky was dark and you couldn’t see any stars. There was a strange scent in the air that you chalked up to air pollution. You both continue walking when you see a building with its lights on. 

“Danny, that’s the only building so far that has any lights, we should go check it out.” He looked hesitant, and he wasn’t wrong to be. The building was an old shoe factory, it was dark and looked as if a sneeze could take the whole thing down. Whoever was in there probably wasn’t good company.

“ Are you sure you want to go in there?’ Danny's voice full of doubt, “Maybe we should keep going till we actually get into town.” While his idea was the more logical one, you were starting to get tired, blowing up a building with freaky ghost powers takes a lot out a a young girl.

“I think we should go, I need to rest up and we don’t know how far the town will be. We don’t even know what town this is.” And with that, you start to make your way to the building, a hesitant ghost trailing behind you.

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Tony's POV

Tony realizes locking himself up in his lab really isn’t going to help find his missing daughter. He just can’t believe he screwed up this badly. His own child, thought she wasn’t loved. He did that to her. A rage filled his body as he angrily swept everything off his work table. The clatter of wrenches and pens filled his ears as he stared at the wall.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention. He turned to see Steve Rogers walking in with a box of chinese food and a stern face. Quietly, the blond man took a look at the state of the lab, shook his head and placed the food on the table.

“We picked straws to decide which one of us had to come convince you to come out.” Steve said breaking the silence between the two men. Tony said nothing as he continued to look at the wall.

“You know, you have some nerve to lock yourself away.” Tony jerked his head over and stared at the man . “ What did you just say?” 

“You damn well heard what I said.’ Steve shot back. “ Your daughter is missing. She disappeared into thin air. And you’re in here doing what? Throwing your tools around?” 

“Are you going to lecture me?” Tony said in a bored voice.” Because of you are, i want to take notes” 

“You know this is your problem. You don’t care.” Steve said angrily. “ You don’t care that your daughter is missing. You don’t care that for eight years, the longest conversation you’ve had with her was when you were introducing her to this team.” Steve stood up from the table and walked back to the door before Tony could say anything. “It’s been a week Tony. She’s been missing for a week.  We need to find her.” He walked out without another word.

And again, Tony was alone. Alone with his thoughts, and alone with his regrets. Then he realizes, if he wants a chance to make up all those years, he’s going to need to find you first.  

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Y/n POV:

Getting into the factory wasn’t too hard, considering you can just walk through walls now. The real hard part finding someone to help, as there was no one in the building. In fact, the only living thing in the factory was the surprising amount of vines and greenery over taking the space. 

“hey, Y/n.. maybe we shouldn’t be here...” Danny whispered, ‘” this place is creeping me out.” 

“D, you don’t have to whisper, I’m the only one who can hear you.”

 You answer as you look around, the room you were in seemed like an office of some sort. Then you noticed something.

“Danny, those vines...they lead out of the room” 

And with that you start walking towards the door, but before you can make it you hear loud voices, two women from what you can tell. 

“....mmy you can’t keep doing this to yourself....”

“i....never let her go with him....”

You can’t hear what they’re saying, you take a step forward and accidently step on a vine. 

“wait...there's someone here.” 

Oh shit. You look at Danny in surprise as there was no way these people would have known you were here.

Then suddenly, the room of plants came to life. Vines started thrashing around, searching for the intruder. 

“WHAT THE FUCK” Danny yelled as a vine goes through is body. “Y/N lets get out of here!” In your panic, you forget you can literally turn into a ghost, so you look for a window to get out of. Before you can climb, a vine suddenly wraps around your leg and pulls you out of the room.

“Y/N!!” 

You thrash as you are pulled down the hallway, around corners, and painfully down stairs. You scratch at the floor, desperate to find something to cut the vines.  Then your eyes start glowing. Your skin melting to a pale blue. You blast through the plant as you start floating upwards. You shoot the plants around you with a blue mist like energy.

“What is that?” “Aye whatta you doing here?”  Wait. You know that voice.

Looking up, you get distracted and a vine wraps around your body, restricting your movement. You struggle for a while till you hear it. 

“Y/N?” You stop and look up. You change back to your normal appearance, shocked.

“Aunt Pam?!”

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TONY’S POV

After Steves not lecture, Tony got to work. He had FRIDAY look for anything suspicious in and near New York. By doing that, he found out that there has been an influx of missing people ranging from ages twenty to fifteen. They were going missing from three specific cities: Bludhaven, Gotham, and...New York. Seeing this had Tony's heart sink. He ran into the conference room where the rest of the team was conducting their own investigation. But before he entered, he stopped to listen to the teams conversation.

“How can she just...disappear into thin air..” Sam said in a sad voice. The rest of the team sat in silence. 

“Maybe we missed something. There has to be something there.” Natasha said with a desperation no on has heard from her. “It’s been a week Steve, she wouldn’t just leave like that.” And that when Tony decided to make his presence known.

“Maybe she didn’t” He said making everyone jump, “There has been an increase in missing person cases in the cities of Gotham, Bludhaven, and New York. All around the same age as Y/N.”

“So,you’ve decided to step up” Clint said sarcastically. “Where have you been this past week Stark?”

“ Look I know I haven’t been the best parent” Tony said.

“that’s an understatement”, grumbled Clint.

“I love my daughter. I hate the thought of her not knowing that.” Tony finished looking around the room to see the disapproval of the team.

“Fighting isn’t going to find her.” Wanda said quietly. “We need to work together.”

“Wandas right.” Steve said, “FRIDAY ,can you find any abnormal activity in any of the cities?”

“I did a widespread search specifically in the Gotham bludhaven and New York areas. A building in the indrustrial area in Gotham spontaneously collapsed. When authorities searched through the rubble, they found bodies of thirty out of the ninety reported missing people.”

“Was there anyone matching Y/N description,” asked Natasha anxiously.

“FRIDAY bring up the missing kids files”

A long minute went by, and all the files uploaded. The Avengers were all on edge as they flipped through the thirty files. They were relieved when they realized that Y/n was not part of those thirty kids.

Tag list: @big-galaxy-chaos

#tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #danny phantom x reader #danny phantom #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #avengers x teen!reader #avengers #poc reader #poison ivy #crossover #dc comics #peter parker x stark!reader #reader insert

[scones-and-texting-and-murder]

Bookends

(This story was originally written for and published in the DeanCas Anthology back in 2018. )

Word Count: 2223 Rating: General ao3 link

Cas pulls as close to the door as he can, checking the rearview mirror to make sure he isn’t blocking traffic as he waits for Dean to get out of the car. Before heading inside, Dean ducks his head back in to smile at him. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Instead of driving away, Cas stays there, watching until Dean pulls open the diner door. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles more than walks, his bow-legged gait made stiff by the arthritis that wracks his joints. Cas waits until he’s safely inside, then pulls past the open handicapped space Dean stubbornly refuses to use, and finds an empty parking spot.

Cas’s car is boxy and utilitarian, and Dean often proclaims that he wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of something so ugly. Cas plays along because giving up driving had been Dean’s toughest concession to age, but as his vision deteriorated and his reflexes slowed, it had become an unavoidable sacrifice. With replacement parts for the Impala harder and harder to come by, Dean had finally agreed to keep her stored safely away in their garage. Cas knew it pained him to see her shrouded under a tarp, her motor idle and useless, but Dean would rather enshrine her in pristine condition than risk one more run-in with a light pole or curb.

With his ugly car parked, Cas crosses the lot to join Dean inside. While he’s aged as well, aged to the point that nobody questions the two of them together, he’s been spared many of the maladies that Dean’s combat-wrecked body has endured, and he moves with relative ease. The best they can figure is that the grace he’d had on and off over the years left his body with a certain resilience to the passage of time. Cas can’t cure Dean as he once could, can’t ease the aches or slow the aging process, but he can use his own comparatively good health and mobility to take care of him.

Inside, Cas navigates past the hostess stand to find Dean at their usual booth, chatting with their usual waitress. The two of them go to this diner religiously each Sunday morning, where the pews are scuffed burgundy vinyl booths and the altar is the breakfast buffet with the generous senior discount. As always, Dean has maneuvered himself across the bench seat to make room for Cas to sit beside him. His cane rests against the wall in easy reach, the simple carved wooden handle belying the fact that the base unscrews to reveal a bayonet-like tip. It’s never been wielded as a weapon (although Dean uses it, still sheathed, to poke at aggressive pigeons who muscle in around their favorite park bench), but that potential made it “badass” enough to overcome Dean’s resistance to using it.

To Sam’s everlasting chagrin, Dean has kept all of his hair, and it’s turned a stunning silver. The crinkles around his eyes have deepened, meeting the roadmap of lines that cross his face. His shoulders are stooped, his joints are stiff, and Cas thinks he’s never been more beautiful. After so many seemingly certain ends, so many years assuming Dean would die young and bloodied, the fact that he’s living out a full, lengthy life is an unparallelled blessing. Cas marvels at the gift of days that have unfolded into decades, granting them time he never dreamed they’d have together here on earth.

As Cas settles into the booth, he smiles and greets their waitress.

“Two for the buffet?” she confirms as she pours their coffee. Cas doesn’t even have to check to know that she’ll leave Dean’s at a little more than half-full so he can lift it without the tremor in his hands sloshing it over the brim.

They drink their coffee quietly, simply enjoying the ritual of being here. Dean peers at the laminated card that lists the specials, even though he never orders off the menu.

“Shall I?” When Dean nods, Cas gets to his feet. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like,” Dean says, leaning over to swat at Cas’s butt.

Picking up two plates from the warmer, Cas slides them along the metal counter, filling them in tandem as he traverses the buffet. Pancakes are too difficult for Dean to get on a fork, but the crisp waffles are good. Bacon he can pick up and eat, and Cas uses the tongs to place precisely two strips on his plate. If Dean wants more, he can get up and get it himself.

Dean can argue with Cas’s choices, but they’d had a hell of a scare a few years back. Cas will never forget the look on Dean’s face when their phone rang in the middle of the night, alerting them that Sam had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. They’d rushed there themselves, Cas driving in silence, knowing that nothing short of seeing Sam with his own two eyes could reassure Dean. Thankfully, it had been a mild heart attack and, after spending a few days in the hospital, the discharge plan called for cardiac rehab and an appointment with a nutritionist. With Sam’s release imminent, Dean had relaxed enough to crow at the irony. “Don’t either of you try to tell me what to eat ever again. Mr. Organic Produce is the one lying in the hospital bed while my pork-rind-fueled ticker is going strong.”

Still pale, Sam’s brow furrowed with resignation. “I’m beginning to think you can’t die.”

Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to go first. We have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam lifted the hand without the IV in a mock salute.

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. “Speaking of which, I need a snack.”

Cas helped him up and they walked to the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria. As they waited for it to arrive, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas left a hand on his shoulder when they stepped apart again. “All right?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes shining with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.” Cas started to respond, to remind him that there was nowhere else he would be, but Dean cut him off. “I know you know. But I wanted to say it anyhow.”

Cas noticed a change after that. Dean was still the same stubborn mule Cas had fallen in love with, but he gradually became more willing to let Cas help. And somehow, Cas loved him even more for it. He loved seeing the slow-blossoming acceptance that came when Dean stopped seeing Cas’s help as a sign of weakness.

Now, standing in front of the steaming trays of food, Cas considers what else to add to their plates. He bypasses the cauldron of oatmeal (they eat that at home most mornings) and continues along the buffet. There’s a tremendous satisfaction in being allowed to care for this man who has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. In fact, Dean has now embraced this new role so fully—no longer questioning what he deserves, or grudgingly accepting help, but full-on enjoyment of being doted on—that Cas has to be careful he doesn’t get lazy. There’s nothing Cas would rather do than settle Dean in front of a sunny window, snug in the recliner for Cas to wait on like a pampered cat, but he knows that sort of inactivity would do Dean’s joints and his heart no favors. So he watches Dean’s diet and insists on them taking slow walks after breakfast when his energy is highest.

Their neighborhood is a mix of young and old and everyone knows the two Mr. Winchesters who circle the block on days when the weather permits. The kids on bikes and scooters know to give them a wide berth, their parents warning them that the old men need the entire sidewalk, but they call out their hellos as they go by. They’re friendly with everyone except the woman who lives on the corner. Dean is convinced she’s a demon, but Cas suspects his distrust of her stems more from the fact that she seems immune to his charm. (Whatever the reason, he’s had to talk Dean out of chalking a devil’s trap inside her mailbox more than once.) They chat with their neighbors about the weather and the score of last night’s ballgame, and it’s so painfully normal that Cas sometimes feels his throat tighten up at the wonder of it all.

When Cas returns to their booth, Dean examines his plate. “They outta bacon?”

Cas cuts the waffle into manageable pieces and peels the wrapper from the muffin before sliding Dean’s plate over. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. “You just like to look at my ass when I get up.”

They eat in congenial silence with Dean methodically working his way around his plate, eating everything heartily, even the fruit. Sitting next to him, Cas can easily scoop up any bites that miss his mouth, plucking them from Dean’s lap or his shirt.

“You two good?” The waitress asks when she comes to refill their coffees. “Need anything?”

Dean swallows the bite of muffin he’s working on, and rests his hand on top of Cas’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here. An actual angel, this one.”

She nods agreeably. “I can almost see his halo.”

Cas has learned that an old man can say just about anything and receive an indulgent smile in return. When Dean references angels or demons or the apocalypse, people assume he’s speaking in metaphor and they’ll nod pleasantly. Sometimes he’ll do it purely for effect, telling rambling tales from their past for the sheer enjoyment of being able to speak openly. He can’t always keep the details straight, but Cas is there to remind him. Some days, though, he seems to lose where he is in time, and there’s nothing Cas can do for that. Cas has taken to keeping a watchful eye on him in the late afternoons when he likes to doze on the couch with their one-eyed black cat curled up on his chest. Cas stays close in case he wakes from his nap agitated, calling for Cas, wanting to know where Sam is. Cas helps him to sit up as the cat springs down and scurries away.

“Don’t go,” he says again and again, and Cas takes him in his arms, assuring Dean that he’s here and reminding him that Sam is safe at his own home. He holds him until Dean shakily dismisses it all as just a bad dream.

The unfairness of it overwhelms Cas, and each time he’s left filled with wrath. These final years should be spent in well-earned peace, but instead Dean seems cursed with reliving his most frightening memories, traumatized anew by old, familiar fears. If Dean’s mind is destined to slip, why can’t it be toward blissful forgetting? What Dean has endured goes beyond what any human should; to ask him to bear it again is nothing short of cruel. But it’s a torture chamber created in his own mind, and all Cas can do is sit helplessly by, doing his best to ground Dean and bring him back to the present.

Cas looks at Dean’s empty plate. “Did you want to get some more?”

“Nah.” He’s full and happy and it’s time for their walk.

The waitress arrives to clear their plates. As he does every week, Dean asks if she needs to see his ID for the senior discount. As she does every week, she pretends to consider it before leaving the check. “You boys take your time.”

“Tip her well,” Dean says, leaning in to supervise Cas as he signs the bill.

“I always do,” Cas assures him.

When they’re ready to leave, Cas stands next to the banquette, waiting for Dean to retrieve his cane and slide himself to the edge. Using a combination of the cane and Cas’s extended arm, Dean hoists himself upright, groaning a little. Cas keeps a firm hold on him until he’s steady on his feet. Dean still dresses in layers, but these days it’s because he gets chilled easily. He favors heavy knit cardigans and as long as Cas gets the zipper started for him he can tug it up or down as needed. Cas checks him for crumbs then together they walk through the other tables crowded with families. They continue by the hostess station where a woman is wiping down menus. “See you next week,” she calls as they pass.

Cas steps forward to push open the door, and stands holding it. “Watch your step,” he says as he always does, pointing toward the raised metal threshold of the doorway.

Using his cane to steady himself, Dean shuffles his way over it, then stops to lay his hand on Cas’s cheek. His knuckles are gnarled, the skin of his palm is dry and warm, and Cas feels the same flare of awe go through him as he has since the moment he first found this glorious soul in the depths of hell.

“I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” Dean says.

Cas kisses his palm, then takes his arm to help him on his way.

#deancas #destiel #my writing #growing old together #this came well before the finale #but it feels like a fix it fic nonetheless