#come from the same place as the other nights: he sort of is...invented out of nothing

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 8

WC:1175 Masterpost

Wherever they stopped was completely dark and definitely outside. As a cool breeze blew past, Danny was very glad he listened and had brought a jacket.

“You know,” Danny said as he climbed off Flash’s back. “It’s a good thing that you’re a hero, because this has mild serial killer vibes.”

“What?! No no,” Flash stammered before he dashed around the area.

Lights bloomed behind him as he ran, illuminating the space. They were in a field of some sort, standing on the foundation of a long gone building. The prairie grasses caught and sparkled in the light of the various lanterns that Flash had turned on. A cozy looking pile of blankets and a few pillows sat in the center of the foundation. Flash stopped next to it, shifting nervously on his feet.

“I, um. So there’s a meteor shower tonight!” Flash rushed to explain, the words almost garbled with how he was practically vibrating in place. “And I thought we’d come somewhere really dark where we could watch it? Since you like space? And I packed a little picnic for us too and…”

“That sounds really, really nice,” Danny said with a soft smile, talking over Flash’s almost panicked explanation. “I didn’t think I’d get to see the meteor shower this year, so this is really awesome.”

“Yeah? Okay, good,” Flash said, almost slumping as the nervous energy drained out of him. “I hope it’s a good night for them.”

“Even if not, this is… great, really great Flash,” Danny said. He made his way to the blanket, slipping his shoes off before he sat. “It’s been… it’s been a really long time since anyone has done something like this for me. Thank you.”

“Yeah? Wow, I keep saying that. I mean you’re welcome,” Flash said as he took off his peculiar boots and sat down next to Danny. “I’m glad you said yes.”

“You made me curious,” Danny said honestly. He picked up Flash’s boot, studying it as the other unpacked the backpack. “What are these made of to not just disintegrate when you run? I mean, obviously a polymer of some sort, but the friction it has to withstand…”

“Oh, we use a lot of the same stuff that you see in factories where machines produce high friction and some science from the automotive industry and even the aerospace,” Flash explained when he paused to see what Danny was talking about. “The shoes were pretty easy. The suit was the real problem.”

“Weave issues,” Danny said with a little nod. “Makes sense.”

“And chaffing,” Flash said with a grimace. “I have used so much baby powder.”

Danny couldn’t help but laugh at Flash’s expression. “I bet.”

“Yeah. Luckily Un—um, the other Flash had a lot of things worked out before I put on the suit.”

“That’s cool. Chemistry was never my thing, but material engineering can be really inventive.”

“There you are being smart again.”

“Me? Nah, my parents are just inventors. I used to do some work in their lab when I was a kid,” Danny said, setting the shoe down.

“And you didn’t want to follow in their footsteps?” Flash asked, his tone oddly soft.

Danny snorted. “Their type of science? No way. And besides, I never would have gotten into a good program. I, ah… didn’t do too well in high school.”

“No?”

“Nope. There was an accident in my parent’s lab with one of their inventions…” Danny closed his eyes. It was still hard to talk about the accident, especially when he couldn’t really talk about it. “Got electrocuted pretty badly by it. My heart stopped. Anyways, it threw me off pretty badly for a time and then I just never really got my feet under me. And there was this stupid bully and some other shit… sorry, excuses, I know.”

“Hey, no, reasons. People who think every reason is an excuse really don’t want you to explain yourself, they just want you to feel bad,” Flash said and bumped their shoulders together lightly. “Besides, look where you are now! You’re doing so much good and already a team lead. That’s amazing. Who cares about how you did in high school anymore?”

“My sister, for one,” Danny said. He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Wow, sorry, I really brought the mood down, huh? Show me what you brought for this picnic. After your pizza choices I’m curious what else you like.”

“Dude, you ate the pizza!” Flash defended, though his grin gave away his amusement.

“I wasn’t insulting your tastes, curious can be a good thing. It got me to agree to tonight, remember?" Danny asked. He was smiling again, despite the serious conversations a few moments ago. It was almost startling how easy it was to smile around Flash.

(Danny wasn’t complaining about that either.)

“Mmhummm, sure,” Flash said, ducking his head to hide his grin.

"Come on, unpack the snacks,” Danny said, nudging their shoulders together.

“Okay, okay, demanding,” Flash said with with a smile. “It’s a picnic, yeah? So have to have watermelon, but even better than normal watermelon, I have pickled watermelon!”

“Pickled watermelon?” Danny asked, taking the presented container curiously.

“Salty, sweet, tangy— the best,” Flash said. “And some little bread bite things to go with them.”

“How specific.”

“Shut it. Oh! Right, wasabi peas, a must have, and cupcakes for dessert!” Flash said, pulling out frankly extravagant looking cupcakes.

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Well,” Flash said. Danny could just barely see the blush coating his cheeks. “Maybe I think you deserve to be spoiled.”

Danny froze for a moment. Oh. Oh. This was a date. He felt foolish for not cluing in earlier. Suddenly feeling bashful himself, he glanced at Flash. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, like, okay, I’m getting that you don’t seem to think it, which is really like, so wrong, but you’re really amazing and nice and I mean, I’m just saying that I’m glad you said yes to tonight and since you said yes I’m going to spoil you, because, um, you deserve it,” Flash said in a blur of words.

It was charming that Flash thought that highly of him. Misguided, maybe, but charming. It bloomed a warmth in Danny’s chest that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Before he lost his nerves, Danny leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Flash’s cheek, right above the corner of his lips. “Thank you.”

Flash blushed red enough to match his mask. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed and leaned against Flash. “Oh, look! A meteor!”

“Where? I see it! Wait, I’ll turn out most of the lights!” Flash said, gone and back before Danny even had a chance to tilt over. There was just enough light left to see the food without losing the overwhelming wonder that was the night sky and streaking meteors. “Make a wish.”

“Naw,” Danny said. He’d never do that again. Besides… “don’t need to. This is already perfect.”

“Yeah,” Flash softly agreed as he twined their fingers together.

-----

AN: The boooooooys. My, I just enjoy writing these two being all soft and cute so much. And hey! Danny clued in! What do we think of Wally's food choices? (Can you tell I've been craving pickled watermelon?)

Stay delightful, my darlings!

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to be notified on the masterpost!

#dp x dc #quick death #quick death ship #danny fenton/wally west #abson

[sahonithereadwolf]

I went down another research hole the other night. Y'all might know about "Big Rock Candy Mountain" from O Brother, Where Art Thou...

But it, like most of the songs from that movie comes from a tradition of American folk songs. Big Rock Candy Mountains very specifically this tradition of hobo ballads. And, like setting aside the overtones of American colonialism that purvey all these sort of "there is a dreamland to the west for you to claim" songs, there is a cultural tradition of these. "Life is a struggle but there is a place where it's not if you can find it" is a very human sentiment.

There are plenty of medieval works on Cockaigne, which has a similar kinda tone to it. A land where the harsh realities of a blue collar or peasant class struggle can not exist.

But did you know about the secret gay lyrics of Big Rock Candy Mountain?

After Harry McClintoc recorded his version of this ballad, which he claimed he wrote in 1895 based off the stories he heard as a kid working on the railroad, a bunch of people took him to court because they claimed he stole and took parts of his song from a bunch of other hobo songs in the same traditions. Sweet Potato Mountain, Hobo's Heaven, An Appleknocker's Lament... As part of the court dispute, McClintock was told by the judge to perform the song. As art of the court record we have a last stanza which is not used in the cleaned up version used for records and "reputable venues". This was recorded as:

"The punk rolled up his big blue eyes And said to the jocker, "Sandy, I've hiked and hiked and wandered too, But I ain't seen any candy. I've hiked and hiked till my feet are sore And I'll be damned if I hike any more To be * * * * * * * * In the Big Rock Candy Mountains." Now NO ONE KNOWS what that last lyric is. However we can make some very educated inferences. This is about gay sex.

And it's not like "Big Rock Candy Mountains" is immune to commentary despite the more sanitized versions you'd see later from the likes of Burl Ives.

I'm thinking very specifically: "In The Big Rock Candy Mountains All the cops have wooden legs And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth" and

"In The Big Rock Candy Mountains The jails are made of tin And you can walk right out again As soon as you are in There ain't no short-handle shovels No axes, saws or picks I'm a-goin' to stay where you sleep all day Where they hung the jerk that invented work In The Big Rock Candy Mountains" Going back to the lyrics "The punk rolled up his big blue eyes"

Punk in this context and original use, especially in it's use in hobo culture refers to a younger man or boy being kept for sex and other menial task.

Which, you know, should put a whole new context to see how it's been used against other forms of youth culture. Hippies, greasers, punks,ect. And at least for me makes it's misuse feel even more slapdash and pathetic.

If you doubt this, it is quickly followed up by the term "Jocker" "And said to the jocker, 'Sandy," a slang term of the era referring to an aggressive and usually straight passing dom top, especially in the context of prison.

To be a little flippant, this is a twink grumbling to a daddy.

As I mentioned before, no one actually knows what that missing lyric is. Or at the very least it's never been made public.

But give it's proximity to "sore" and "more" a lot of guess tend to jump to the word "Whore".

Sam Eskin actually interviewed McClintock for Folkway Records and which, when asked about the lyrics said “the ambition of every hobo was to snare some kid to do his begging for him, among other things,”

This is something you see in a lot of early gay panic lit all the way up through the 80's. Especially as the moral authoritarianism of the Hayes code kicked in. But it also found itself in the early pulp lit where queerness could still exist (if behind a little mask and a performative, if dramatic, finger shake)

Queerness and homelessness were intertwined. Still are, both from my own personal experiences and if you look at the statistics. And it's not much of a leap to understand why. ---

But we do have some offered lyrics from other authors: "To be buggered sore like a hobo’s whore,” Is a popular one, which has it's origins from a 2002 folk music site called mudcat and waaaaay too British to read naturally if you ask me.

“And be cornholed till my ass is raw.” is another one you see passed around a lot. Which feels too forum humor.

George Milburn in 1930 offers "To be a homeguard with a lemonade card.” which is naive and sweet to say the least.

The fact is we still don't know this lyric, gay punchline (or at least gay panic) as it might be. All we know is that Big Rock Candy Mountain "Was never meant to be a parlor song" in McClintock's own words.

Well that and the insight it offers into social perceptions of queerness at the time and how it's shaped and shifted in the future.

What do you think this secret gay Big Rock Candy Mountain lyric is?

#big rock candy mountain #folklore posting #homelessness #queer history

[steam-junk]

Hello! If you don’t mind could I request ROTTMNT (each turtle separately) x Wise! Kitsune! Reader?

Like how would he turtles be around Reader and that they view them as a mother figure? (Platonic or romantic I don’t mind!)

(If you aren’t comfortable with kitsune! Reader then normal reader would be fine!)

Also you have a lovely day / afternoon / night and a splendid year!! (Also if you feel uncomfortable with this request please ignore it!!)

rottmnt turtles x fem.reader

the boys with wise kitsune reader who is motherly

+could be read as platonic or romantic

type: headcanons, fluff

warnings: kinda short? I'm still getting into writing requests for other people so the first few might be a lil short like this

notes: I've seen you around on the ROTTMNT/reader tags for a while now asking about other kitsune!reader fics. I've always found your prompts and ideas rlly interesting, so I'm super excited to be writing something for you! Feel free to come back any time :)

Ohmigosh

He thinks you're so cool!

When he sees you he definitely notices your ears first.

When he gets to know you and sees how wise you are, he starts coming to you for advice.

Especially if you're the poetic type omg you two are perfect

Like,,, he will ask you what he should paint,,,, and you can write about it when he's finished <33

If he's having personal trouble he definitely asks you about it first. You almost always have some words of wisdom that can help him sort it out.

And when you two get close he will ask to pet your tails and/or lay on them while you tell him about things please please let him lay on your tails-

So when you two meet you both click and clash at the same time.

He's outgoing and charming, you're calm and wise. You're both social people, but in opposing ways.

Your friendship starts with him being the most talkative and you just listening.

Eventually, you'll start responding with words that hold more weight. You go from simple, "Mhm"'s to actual responses.

You two could go on for hours about the same topic.

He kind of needs you to keep him in check sometimes.

He also asks you to help him when he's having internet arguments in YouTube comments sections.

Probably asks if he can dye your tails with cool (temporary) colors and style you in outfits.

When he sees you, he thinks you look really cool.

Then he meets you...

You two probably clash at first.

It's mostly him being upset there's another smart person in the group. He feels challenged, or like he isn't needed.

You notice his dislike of you and confront him.

He gets a little upset, talking about how, "Well, if you're around then I guess they don't need me, right?"

You understand him. Not that you've felt similar, but you feel where he's coming from.

"But, isn't it nice to have someone who will appreciate your ideas?"

"Like hell you do.."

"I do! You're a genius, Donnie. Your inventions are incredible. I promise you don't have to worry about me taking your place."

After you confirm you have no intentions of replacing Donnie, he starts to talk to you more.

Since you've told him how much you enjoy seeing his new intentions, he shows you all his new ideas and concepts. You're usually the first to see a blueprint.

Sometimes you can offer some advice as well.

"Maybe you could cover up that part with a detachable metal rim, to reduce the possibility of damage while still giving room to be fixed if it happens?"

He'll ask to study your ears and hearing compared to other foxes, to turtles, and to humans. Tries to make a high-def microphone with what he gathered from the experiments.

It's up to interpretation if he succeeds ;)

Since you have so many tails, he can make attachments for them.

He will ramble for so long about his ideas, all while you sit and listen with a smile.

I feel like he would stare at your tails all day

And you definitely pick up on it so you come upfront and just ask him

"Do you want to touch them?"

He does.

When you two are alone he will just sit there and brush your tails or run his fingers through them (if you're okay with it).

I think that, much like Leo, you would serve as a level headed/grounding person for him.

He would give you final say before he makes any rash decision.

"Can I fight them?"

Definitely listens. Would not fight if you said no.

Yeah, Donnie said no, too, but Donnie is his brother! He doesn't have to listen to him!

He thinks you're super interesting and wise, and he likes having you around.

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #x reader

[bitchdafuqyousay]

The Usual Business

The night was warm and sticky, especially so after the rain they’d gotten in the afternoon. Alex wrinkled her nose with distaste as she stepped out of the car- the whole street smelled like wet dog, piss and probably every alcohol that’d ever been invented. And trash, of course. Couldn’t ever forget the fuckin' garbage rotting in the streets right alongside the people who lived here.

The nasty smell and shit weather didn’t deter the walking sort of trash from being out here however, God could send another flood and a lot of these punks would spend their last seconds in the redlit sector.

“Be careful, yeah? Oh, but be quick too, Yammi! I dun’ wanna be on this street for long.” The young man who drove huffed and slumped onto his steering wheel.

She waved her hand dismissively as she double checked the receipt in her hand, before tucking it back into a folder she was carrying “Yeah, yeah Sammy- I don’t intend to hang around. But don’t worry too much, you’re not hot enough to get propositioned. Not here at least, you’re way overshadowed by the actual streetwalks.”

She could feel him pouting at her behind her back, didn't even need to look at him to know his freckled face had scrunched up and he was sticking out his lower lip far enough that it could be his collarbone's own umbrella.

“You dun’ gotta be mean about it, you’re always so mean to me Yammi, thought you’re supposed to be the nice one here.”

“I am the nice one here. Stop whining at me and just wait for a bit, kay? This shouldn’t take long at all.” 

He grumbled something under his breath as she shut the car door and walked up to the double wood doors; plastered in posters and advertisements to drum up business and finished with the word Käzchen's Club painted on them. As if someone would somehow miss the neon red sign on the top of the building and would have no idea which brothel they were currently at. 

Alex grunted as she pushed open one of the heavy doors and she was greeted by a burly man, he was short, but no less intimidating. He waved lazily at her from where he was standing at the top of the two small stairs you’d need to go up to actually get into the club portion of the place. To the credit of the staff here- especially the owner, Riche- it wasn’t a bad place. Definitely leagues over others in the same area. Any bastard coming in here had to have actual money, not just a few dollars they scraped together to toss pitifully on stage. And you could bet your ass you weren’t getting even close to an upstairs room with one of the ladies if you didn’t have full pockets. The interior was nice enough as well, but not her taste. Too… fussy. But still nice.

And the man in front of her wasn’t gonna let just any lowlife in this establishment who might ruin that niceness. He would block entry with violent force if he felt he should. A man would also be removed with even more violent force if it were necessary. Breaking the “no touching the dancers or bottle girls” rule was a sure fire way to get some teeth knocked out as well as a broken nose when you get thrown out the doors face first onto the street.

“Slugger! Good to see you, how’s it been?”

The man simply grunted, just nodding his head in response to her greeting as he stepped aside so she could pass by him.

“Riche upstairs, or is he smacking people who get too rowdy around the floor with an improv weapon?”

“...Upstairs.”

She brushed past and made her way to the far end of the main floor, waving politely at the working women who called out their hellos in high, flirty melodies. A couple customers stopped her too, asking about her boss and if they were after any gigs currently; she politely told them that they’d need to actually call her boss if they had any legitimate inquiries and excused herself quickly.

She was here for work, not socializing.

Last time she’d been here she was discussing the fees for an order Riche had put in with her company. He’d been asking for a pretty large amount of cocaine he could sell out to the fuck ups that came here to satiate themselves. He sold it here, and her company- a great group of renaissance men- dealt it out as a middleman. Match made in heaven. But during their conversation there was some commotion downstairs- it was so loud and so disruptive that the man marched downstairs with Alex in tow to see who was ‘making a ruckus in his good establishment’. Some piss-drunk dickhead had climbed on stage and tried to get aggressively handsy with a dancer, and then stabbed one of the bouncers when they dragged him off the poor woman. Riche had stormed over and beat the man’s face in with a custom made shiny black stiletto. By the time he finished exacting his righteous punishment and was screaming at Slugger to get this ‘useless, limpdick, piece of rotting dog shit bastard’ out of his building the shoe had transformed into a red bottom. A real treat for Alex to witness. But she didn't want to see it this evening. She was too tired for such excitement.

Once she got to the staircase and shut its door behind her the music dulled into a distant sounding thumping, conversations and laughter faded into a monotonous buzz. She sighed, steeling herself for the new sounds she was about to be assaulted with. Said sounds getting increasingly louder as she climbed the stairs and actually reached the second floor. Her target was the large, red door at the very end of the hallway. That's where Riche was, but to get there she had to walk past the sounds of men who got too caught up in a sugar trap and the women who were profiting from it.

Beds creaking and hitting the walls, shuffling of fabric, the high pitched and perfectly practiced falsettos from the women who worked here, calling out names and giving perfectly timed praise. 

Their acting was actually pretty good. Though Alex still wondered how the johns fell for it and thought it was real.

She finally reached the end of the hallway and lifted her hand to knock on that red door, but she was startled by it opening as soon as she did so. There was a quick beat of silence as the two people stared at each other in surprise. The other one broke it first.

“Ms. Yammada… hello…”

She stifled a giggle, but had trouble forcing her grin down, “Smiles! What a wonderful surprise.” Her eyes went over him a few times, taking in his appearance. His shirt was uncharacteristically rumpled, the ever present yellow mask with the cartoon grin on it was a bit crooked, and she could see smears of lipstick on both sides of his neck, on his collarbones, and she even thought she saw a couple of bite marks disappearing into his shirt.

“Hm. Well, I suppose you have an appointment with Riche. I’ll be going then.” He stepped around her and began walking away.

“Oh, Smiles! Wait a moment! You missed a belt loop.”

He stopped and began looking, patting his hips to try and find which loop he’d missed and Alex burst out into laughter, not bothering to suppress herself this time. 

“Ah. I see. You are teasing me. How humorous.” He gave her a quick glare over his shoulder, but it didn’t hold any actual anger. The two actually got along decently, well, as much as he would allow anyone to get along with him.

“I hope you continue to enjoy your night, good doctor.” She called out to him, and he leveled her with another pointed look in response, but then the glare softened and his good eye squinted in a way that meant he was smiling at her.

He left with a friendly-ish wave over his shoulder, and she turned to knock on the red door; which was already open. She was only knocking out of politeness and to alert her arrival before she walked in without waiting to be invited.

Riche was sitting at his vanity, reapplying his favored blood red lipstick. 

“Yammi baby, don’t tease him too much-” he turned around on his stool and feigned a disappointed look “-you know how flustered my handsome beau can get.”

“He only gets flustered with you, Riche. He’s totally emotionless with everyone else. You can find a broader range of emotion on the face of a flat Stanley doll.” 

Riche chuckled demurely, covering his mouth with a graceful, satin covered hand that was followed by a brief stretch of quiet as he finished fixing his makeup and Alex looked around for a place to sit.

“Oh, here baby, you take the vanity seat.” The man stood up and gestured to said place before sauntering by and draping himself over his bed, stretching out a lean arm in order to reach his cigarette pack on the nightstand, tossing it onto the silk covers next to him before going and patting about the nightstand again. His perfectly groomed brows scrunched up a bit.

“Baby, is my lighter over there on the vanity? I swore I left it here, though.”

Alex reached into her pocket and pulled out her own lighter; she herself didn’t smoke, but Hans and her boss did, so she kept one on her in case they needed a light for whatever reason. She smiled sweetly as she leaned over and lit his smoke for him.

“You probably knocked it to the floor somewhere while you were throwing the good doctor around.” 

“Ooh, probably. I just hadn’t seen my man in a while, y’know? That pretty thing's been so busy lately I was practically starving. So I-”

“I don’t wanna know what poses or shapes you twisted him into, Riche. I just need to affirm costs with you and get you to sign something for me.”

“I know, I know. Always business as usual with you, isn’t it?” He huffed but crawled over to sit at the edge of the bed anyways, swinging his long legs over the side and crossing them. He took a quick drag from his cigarette and left it hanging in his mouth as he took the lengthy receipt from Alex. She also handed him the printed transcript from their last conversation so he could compare the two. Alex had already done the math, and her math was flawless as always. But it was a good business practice to re-discuss things with clients before moving forwards. And she was a good businesswoman. 

“I don’t know why I even bother looking, really. I trust Maroon Company to get the details right, and if you’re the one handling the paperwork and numbers, baby, then I don’t have anything to worry about…” He paused, “Aside from where I put my pen. Hang on I need to-”

She pulled one out of her breast pocket and extended it to him.

“Always so prepared. Lighters, pens, whatever else a person might need. Tucked into your little pockets.”

“Tucked into my cleavage too. I’ve got a fine tip sharpie in there if you’d rather use that.”

“Pfft-” he covered his laugh with the back of his hand again, “-no Yammi that's alright, this ballpoint is just fine.”

He scribbled the mess that was his signature and handed her papers back for her to tuck into her folder. At least he wasn’t at a big risk for fraud. Nobody could convincingly reproduce that bullshit.

“Alright, well that’s it, Riche, thank you. You’ll get a call when it arrives at the warehouse. Have a good night, okay?”

“You too, baby. But a call is so impersonal, my goodness, none of you visit often enough. You only show up for business and only god knows how long it's been since your boss showed me her beautiful face. Give her my well wishes and tell her stop by some time, yeah? I’ll even mix her a drink myself!”

“I’ll pass it on to her! See you next time!”

Alex all but jogged down the hall, the later it was in the night the noisier it was in the rooms and Alex really wasn’t interested in hanging around to listen. It was raining again when she got back to the car. Sam was sitting slumped in his seat, probably still moping. She opened the passenger door and climbed in, shutting it the second her ass touched the old leather seat. Sammy shifted out of park and pulled off before she finished buckling. She didn’t care though, she wanted to get back to the office decently quickly too. She was tired.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and snorted when she saw the collection of frowny faces he’d drawn on the driver's side window, little crying faces traced into existence when the wet, humid night air had fogged the windows up. She didn’t comment on it, though. She was the nice one here, after all, so she’d leave Sam and his sad little faces to themselves for now.

#sometimes she writes #my ocs #Alex Yammada #Riche Katz #oc writing #yippee yippee they're all commiting crimes!! majority of my ocs are fucking Criminals!! they're fucking Criminals but also Fucking criminal #ya get me? ya dig? ya picking up what I'm putting down? #my writing

[inlocusmads]

Hey there! Time for an ask! :)

Is there something your MC is obsessed with that drives their LI crazy? What about in reverse, is your LI obsessed with something that may make your MC just lose it?

Thank you! :)

Jerz! Oh my God, this has been a long time coming. I'm so sorry it took me ages to respond, so here's a fic to hopefully make up for all of this!

Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

Ethan and Alma Hudson have a heart-to-heart conversation. Meanwhile, back at home, Jane teaches all the right things to a young Ethan Hudson, but at the wrong time.

Characters: Ethan Ramsey, Jane Fletcher, Alma Hudson, Ethan "Eddie" Hudson from Open Heart.

WC: 2.5k | General Audiences

(A/N at the end!)

"I don't know. Is it really that bad that I am -- a bit of a messy botanist?" Ethan asked.

Alma Hudson shrugged. They'd just gone out on a little lunch catch-up after a long time and Ethan had rather wanted it to be private. Just the two of them ruminating about Dolores, how Ethan Hudson - now aptly nicknamed Eddie to avoid the mix-up was coping with elementary school - it had definitely been a good six years and it was almost as if everything around Ethan had changed. New houses in the boulevard, new families, new friends and yet, he still worked at the same hospital.

"I don't know. It has been a while since we lived together." Ethan said. "Jane accepted when I asked her if she was comfortable moving into my apartment for a brief period of time but I believe it is -- a terrible idea. I seem to be doing something wrong with my archiving. There's boxes everywhere, not enough time to order them all and files on coffee tables."

"Ethan, if Jane's only pet peeve of you is your messiness, that's just called being human. Nobody's one hundred percent clean." Alma shook her head.

"It isn't a pet peeve, so to speak. She is understanding. I believe it just annoys her. She doesn't say much and sort of silently scrapes it up when I'm not looking but -- it is a problem, isn't it? An unaddressed problem only progresses into something more."

Ethan took a sharp turn and slowed down near the school zone.

"That's Eddie's school."

"Newberry Elementary." Ethan read the name.

"They're really good. Good at disciplining him. They also have a STEM program for gifted kids. Though I think Eddie is just -- into making trouble and causing chaos. Get a quick kick of adrenaline. He's still a kid."

"Well, I remember when I was one. Then I met Jane."

"Oh?"

"If she's got a problem with my messiness, I have a problem with her -- erm -- bad ideas, I'd say. The other day, we had purchased a rather long table for the dining room and it made the salt dispenser far out of reach and instead of perhaps, using your hands to lift the shakers and use them, she got a model train to do it. It left dent marks on the table, didn't do well with me but -- there's the compromise right? I believe she didn't get enough of an adrenaline kick as a kid and is now cramming her summer bucket list of inventions into one whole -- life."

"That has to be fun, right?" Alma asked.

"It is, like when the time she developed a catapult that didn't make me want to go all the way to get my car keys. However there are drawbacks. Like the time she developed a catapult and in place of the keys, there was a large -- sort of belt hanging from the hook and well, the catapult being powered by electricity, ended up spinning about and causing a mess. It was an even bigger mess because Jane left it all night, powered on and didn't bother introducing an insulating column and it -- it's best if we don't talk about it further."

"She's definitely a lot --"

"Yes, that she is."

"-- I was going to say different but you've dated many different people before." Alma said. "Sorry, it isn't my business to pry--"

"No, no. Alma you're family. I trust you with everything." Ethan offered her a kind smile. "I guess it's always a first to sort of share a roof with someone who just really enjoys creating new things. It's also a pain. It's easier to clean up paperwork and Jane laments about it all the time, when I see her make smoke bombs for fun or incredibly complicated machines that transcend the whole entire living room - it is a complete menace to live with that."

"Of course, of course. Have you tried talking about it?"

"I don't know. I really don't -- mind it as long as it isn't noisy or messy. Even if it is messy, she pulls the "you're as messy as I am" card and -- at this point I don't know who's supposed to set a better example for the other." Ethan shrugged.

"I'll tell you one. Eddie loves you both. He loves talking about you and listening to stories and -- maybe it's a good thing Jane is babysitting him. Maybe they'll connect. It's always hard for a kid like Eddie to socialise. He looks up to you, that's an ineffable fact but generally, he's just -- restraint towards extended family. But you, he looks up to you. He doesn't know what he wants to be yet. In the whole dinosaur, astronaut phase, but -- you've inspired him. And if there's ever a Show and Tell, you best believe he's going to run up to your door and ask you for your sthethoscope."

"I love him too." Ethan said. "Dolores was -- family. She was like the sister I never had and she sort of -- filled this gaping hole in my soul and I never say that about anyone, at all. Eddie is a great kid. He'll do a lot of amazing things someday."

"I hope so. He's been in a rough patch lately. Bad grades. Been bullied too."

"Oh no."

"Yeah. Newberry isn't -- completely bully-free as they make it out to be. He's trying really hard. I just want him to have a good childhood and -- if things ever go south for me, you're his godfather."

"Alma, I appreciate the gesture but nothing will happen to you."

"Ack, you doctors are always so optimistic. Look at me, Ethan. I'm forty eight and I'm raising a five year old. By the time he reaches high school, I'd be sixty one. And college. Who's going to put him through that? I'd be retired by then and I wouldn't be able to be there for him, because -- I pull my back out quite often than before and it's just a downward spiral from now. I just need you to vouch for me, yeah?"

Ethan paused.

"You're forty one, Ethan. Jane, I presume is -- thirty eight, I'd expect? Promise me you'll help Eddie get through if I'm ever not there." Alma said, her right hand on Ethan's left hand. She gave it a small squeeze, expecting some assurance.

"I promise. I won't let him -- be thrown to the wolves. He'll have me whenever he wants me to be there for him."

Alma smiled at him. It was as if a weight had escaped her shoulder and she could count on Ethan and Jane, even though they were a rather strange family to have for Eddie. A doctor who dabbled in research and possibly Dr Frankenstein herself wasn't an ideal environment for a growing college boy, should Alma miss his formative years due to any ailment she might face. But it was just crazy enough to work. She was happy for Ethan, having found a relationship perhaps in the most unexpected of places. She was happy for Jane, who was the cool Aunt figure that Eddie would need in his life and she was just so utterly grateful.

This was about the time when they heard screeching noises, which weren't from the tyres. Alma exchanged a look with Ethan and the latter stepped on the pedal, crossing the road and into the street where Alma and Eddie lived. There was a large backyard overlooking a mass patch of unincorporated land and the worst had already dawned on Alma. Of course, Boston didn't have criminal classes, but what if they'd taken Eddie hostage? What if they'd set fire? The worry only grew larger and larger and by the time Ethan helped Alma out of the car, as the two rushed to their large backyard, they found Jane and Eddie in protective gear.

"What -- is going on?" Ethan panted.

"Aunt Alma! Aunt Alma! Aunt Jane taught me some really cool tricks! We set things on fire! She told me it was -- erm -- pyro-- pyrotech something! And it was so cool! And we also made powder rockets! Did you know that we can make one out of sugar, ben-- bento-- clay and this thing called potassium -- ni-- something? It shot up right into the air and it exploded! It exploded and it was the coolest thing ever!"

"You set fire to the backyard?" Alma shot daggers at Jane.

"No! It was safe, I promise. It's pyrotechnics stuff. You know, safe movie explosions? Eddie told me he was having a hard time at school because of this bully, Matt or something and I taught him some cool homemade explosions, just in case he ever finds himself with a PVC pipe, some bentonite clay - it's bentonite, by the way. Sort of flaky stuff. And potassium nitrate. You can find it in a chem lab, your school would have tons of them and a bit of powdered sugar. Of course, I wouldn't let Eddie play with matchsticks, so we sort of made a large matchstick holder for him to set the rocket on fire and --"

"BOOM!" Eddie said, throwing his head back and laughing.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

"He's fine. Unarmed." Jane said. "And technically we aren't breaking any laws. We can't transport this stuff around and that's it. Making it and igniting it on sight is perfectly safe if you know what you're doing."

"You don't know what you're doing!" Alma hissed, as she fussed over Eddie.

"Aunt Alma, but Aunt Jane has a degree in chemistry! She said it's perfectly safe!"

"Well, you are not making explosives at school to fend off bullies!"

"But that would be totally rad though. Dude-" Jane interrupted. "Next time, sneak a firecracker into his backpack, yknow, small ones and --"

"No, no! You are not teaching him anything!"

"Or you could make one of those small hobbyist explosions. Just get a soda bottle. Fill it with aluminium and detergent, give it a good shake or two and if you're feeling really daring, I'll teach you how to insert a fuse in and light it up for a lot more oomph. There's of course, your classic vinegar and baking soda but that's boring. Try getting Coke and Mentos and sort of sneak it in his locker and -- oh wait, hold on, I'll teach ya how to make a flamethrower. It's easy. You'd probably need an empty fire extinguisher and fill it up with some gasoline, pressurise it, y'know make it all compressed and nice and cosy and then -- soak em with some gas, put in the nozzle and whatnot and light em on fire and boom, flamethrowers AND--"

"That is ENOUGH! Eddie, come with me--" Alma took him to the house.

Throughout their conversation, Ethan had not piped up once. Now, he drew in closer, arms crossed against his chest with a sort of stiff feeling.

"You taught him how to -- explode things."

"He's a kid. A kid's gotta learn fire."

"Jane--"

"I'm sorry. I know. I know we're against having kids but -- I just wanna help a kid grow, you see?"

"But explosions?"

"They're cool."

"They can blind someone."

"Still cool. It's chemistry in action. Cool chemistry. A kid needs their chemistry set. Work things. Break things. Set things on fire. Where's the excitement, Ethan? How is Eddie ever going to learn? I hated school so much because there were bullies and half of them were teachers. I hated going there because -- I just -- I couldn't stomach it. The mundane. It's just not cool. Not cool at all."

"Ethan is still a child."

"I know."

"And -- Alma has insisted we take care of him when she reaches her sixties. I really want to -- gain her confidence."

"Yeah, yeah, fair enough." Jane stretched her arms. "I'm sorry about all of this. He was excited. I kind of understood him. It was as if I was a kid again, you know? Hugo and I would be at the workshop everyday, just fiddling with tools and stuff. We'd drill holes just for fun and play with matchsticks because we were ostracised. The both of us. And high school made it worse. I just don't know how to tell you, Ethan."

"No, I understand, I really do-- but next time, maybe you can wait until he's old enough to understand how fires work. Or maybe old enough until he's able to read full length books about botany."

"Who said anything about botany?"

"I've got plenty of books lying at home." Ethan shot a smirk. "You know, the ones you deem messy?"

"Oh no, you're not competing for his attention--"

"He is going to have the greenest thumb in the whole city of Boston and I am going to ensure he learns all of it with some practical gardening lessons thrown in for good measure."

"I'll teach him advanced pyrotechnics and he's going to be making gunpowder in his chem lab before he can learn algebra."

"I'll teach him everything about botany and agriculture and this land, this very land you're standing on right now, will turn into the most beautiful greenhouse ever within months."

A pause.

"I feel like we might be making him into a comic book villain." Jane said.

"Who just so happens to know all the natural poisons found in nature." Ethan added.

"Maybe he should stick to cartoons for now, yeah?"

"Of course, of course. And ice cream. That's what kids like, right?"

"God, we are terrible at this. What would we ever do if -- Eddie actually comes and lives with us? After Alma's retired?"

"I suppose it's not too late to crack open those parenting books." Ethan supplied, glumly.

The two of them exchanged a short hug; Jane's face buried into his hair and Ethan against her shoulder.

"We are going to be good at this. It isn't much about Eddie's own intrinsic character, rather his upbringing and we're always going to be there in little Ethan's life, so there's always room to improve and evolve. Still am not used to calling him -- Eddie. How did Ethan evolve into Ed? Ed sounds boring. Eddie sounds -- juvenile. Almost kiddish. Perhaps we can address him by his middle name. Anyway, we are going to be there in that little boy's life and we're going to learn how to be a good uncle and aunt."

"A cool aunt, by the way. He told me that. You're the boring doctor one."

"No, I believe he said he specifically wanted to be a doctor. Just like his uncle." Ethan adjusted his blazer. "He looks up to me."

"Sure he does." Jane said, returning the smirk he'd sent her way not too long ago. "Setting off firecrackers and making them yourself is a lot more boring than, say, studying plant leaves for a hobby. Sure. Sure. Let's pretend even half of that is true."

"Oh can it." Ethan chuckled. "Also, it couldn't have killed you to teach me something useful. Would've used it on Leland when I had a chance."

"Oh yeah? I would've loved all that plant knowledge before I got absolutely wasted and hungover and then you tell me that blah blah blah plants have medicinal properties and can cure a headache."

"You're the worst." Ethan couldn't control his smile.

"You're terrible yourself." Jane exhaled, between peals of laughter.

***

Tagging From My Old List:

Perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @writing-not @trappedinfanfiction @tessa-liam @peonierose

Open heart only: @cariantha @jerzwriter @ofmischiefandmedicine

___

A/N:

Thank you so much Elsa for the prompt! I'll admit I was in a really bad Open Heart slump because I didn't know where to start or how to even, progress their story. For a while I'd just given up on it and then, I remember your Ask and boom, it all just sort of falls in place. It's silly, it's just utter foolishness and hopefully brings a smile to your face.

Jane and Ethan sort of remind me of Rosa/Pimento and Jake/Amy from Brooklyn 99 and Jane's totally the Pimento/Jake in the situation and it sort of helps me because Adrian Pimento is one of my favourite characters from sitcoms in general and I kind of see a lot of his quirks and chaos in Jane.

Ethan feels like a mix of an excited Amy with the organisation and filing and all those strict restrictions he gives himself while having the personality of Rosa, if that makes sense.

And also I went down a rabbit hole of chemistry related videos, so -- don't blame me for translating my hyperfixations into fiction lol. I wish I could recreate at least half of the stuff Jane's got upto, but that would likely get me arrested or worse, kicked out from the country jk jk no, but still, you get the idea.

Okay I'm rambling. I'll see you guys soon! Thank you for reading!

#ethan ramsey x f!mc #w:inlocusmads #ethan x jane #open heart #askboxed! #jerzwriter

[palettepainter]

If Zoot’s cousins visited the muppets who would they get along with outside of the band?

So I’ve actually thought about this and I already made a small list of characters they’d get along with! I’ll start with Liv since she works with The Muppets as the bands sparky 

Liv: 

Beauregard: While Liv is the bands sparky she kind of more or less keeps their hangout space/the bus clean out of habit. Her and Beauregard sometimes hang out. Liv also finds him a calming presence since Beauregard, intended or not, tends to dodge most of the chaos at the studio. Liv also knows Beauregard can be forgetful in a harmless way, so she hangs around to remind him his cleaning cloth is in his back pocket when he thinks he’s lost it 

Swedish Chef: Chef is one of the first people Liv meets when she goes to the studio for the first time. She felt awkward about the language barrier so after going on tour with the band a few times to places with different languages she decided to try and learn Swedish. Chef is more or less her tutor who offers her pointers when she accidentally says something incorrect 

Scooter/Walter/Skeeter: Liv was in school was Scooter and Skeeter growing up. Her and Scooter were often paired together in sport actives since both were lacking in stamina. She later meets Walter after spending some time at the studio, she was a bit intimidated by his overzealous/energetic personality but she got used to him. Skeeter isn’t at the studio but she’s Scooter brother, so she went to the same school as her and later became her girlfriend 

Rowlf: The band are frequents at the Tavern, and with Teeth being Rowlf’s best friend Liv naturally would have met him at some point. She first meets Rowlf when she gets invited to a party of sorts the crew are having after she’s finished wiring the bands set (events that take place in Hired Sparky. She later moves into the apartment above the bar and Rowlf becomes her landlord. When she’s not on tour with the band for whatever reason she babysits Newphew for Rowlf when he’s managing the bar 

Bunsen/Beaker: Liv is a nerd, Bunsen and Beaker are king nerds. I wanna write a story about how these three meet because Liv likes to help out with their experiments sometimes when Bunsen needs a third assistant to test a new invention or something. The band more often then not have to stop Liv from accidentally signing herself up to being a Guinea pig, she sometimes forgets her own safety when it comes to cool science stuff 

Zephyr-

Yolanda: Girl buddies, they probably met when Zephyr was still working on Muppets Tonight. Zee likes a bit of gossip as much as Yolanda does, so the two like to have frequent gossip sessions together when Zee comes down to visit the studio 

Teeth/Floyd/Janice: Zee spent her summers down in Louisiana with relatives, over time she became friends with Floyd, spending many sunny afternoons listening to music in the shop he worked at. Through Floyd she became friends with Teeth, while the two dated for a while they ultimately decided to mutually break up but still remain close friends. With Janice being the only girl of the band Zee extends an invite to her whenever she and her other friend go out for a girls night (Janice is one of the few who knows Clifford and Zee are dating again. They both talk about their moustaches boyfriends)

Sam: Since Zee is a teacher she obviously has some standards towards what kids should and shouldn’t be exposed too. As a teacher she tries to keep the space she holds her dance lessons in a safe space, language is strictly NOT allowed infront of the kids and she prefers to not raise her voice. Thanks to her career in teaching Zee can, to some degree, understand Sam’s pushiness to remove certain aspects of the show in fear of it being too PG for younger audiences. She tries to at least hear him out before making a judgment. 

Pepe: She met Pepe back on her days working on Muppets Tonight, maybe worked on a few sketches with him and Seymour. Pepe jokingly flirted with her off stage and Zee often rolled her eyes at his affections (not unkindly). Zee probably finds him fun to be around but has to sometimes remind him that she’s kindly not interested in anything he can offer her romantically 

Rowlf/Kermit: Since both of them have newphews she often volunteers to babysit them when either are busy. Sometimes she’ll get up and dance with them to one of Kermit’s songs or when Rowlf plays his piano. Outside of babysitting their newphews Zee also finds Rowlf and Kermit good company. They sometimes talk about their work and how shifts have been to wind down from stressful times when they meet up 

Raphael-

Janice: Spiritual, hipsters besties. Even if they’re apart a lot because of where Raph lives and Janice often touring with the band they communicate over the astral plane. Having many deep, emotional talks about plants, crystals, and social trees they’ve encountered spiritually. I imagine Janice sometimes, on the rare occasion, will vent to Raph about stuff she wouldn’t tell anybody else so Raph deeply treasures their talks 

Camilla: Raph is not apposed to having conversations with poultry. He’s just as happy to sit and chat with Camilla as he is talking with cacti, ants and stray cats. It takes him a while to decipher her clucks and bawks but he more or less understands her 90% of the time. They talk about boys together 

Sweetums: Raph simply believes that someone as big and as clumsy as Sweetums is simply a misunderstood soul. Raph will have tea with Sweetums and the two just talk about stuff, he thinks Sweetums is faithful to his name; he’s a sweetheart in his eyes 

Sam: Raph likes messing with him in a teasing way, he doesn’t mean genuine ill-will, but Sam sometimes makes it a bit too easy to mess with him 

Penny-

Piggy: Might be obvious but yeah these two get along very well. They share similar talks about fashion, beauty and fine dinning. They like to sass each other in a half-hearted playful way. Whenever they meet up it’ll either end in a fun trip shopping or a fabulous beauty battle to the death (most of the time it’s the former)

Deadly: She gets along better with Deadly then Piggy, since both are fashion designers they naturally have more in common. Penny likes to buy clothing, but she has a lot more fun thinking of all the details that went into a gorgeous dress rather then be the one wearing it. Penny is also so utterly in love with Gloria Estefan and spoils that penguin rotten. Deadly had tried to stop her but his attempts are futile, Penny is basically the fine wine auntie to Gloria (teases Deadly sometimes that he’s going soft to which he will squint at her silently) 

Yolanda: They talk shit about coworkers and clients that get on their nerves, they hit up bars together. If Penny where to get drunk, Yolanda would be one of the few who’d probably see it 

Lips/Animal: Nature and environmental bestie with Lips. They talk about preserving endangered species and ways to use recycled materials, they coe over cute animal videos and watch nature documentaries together. Lips has probably ordered clothes through Penny’s company and she gives him a discount.

Penny was at first terrified of Animal, but I like to thought it would be cute that Animal would be smitten with Penny sort of like how he is with Nora in Muppets Mayhem. Plus since Penny’s trans I thought I’d be cute if Animal got especially protective of her sometimes, and it was that that finally got Penny to warm up to him. It was basically an overnight change, one day she was terrified of him and the next she treats him like she does Gloria (prolly joked - but also kind of not joked - to Floyd if she could borrow Animal from time to time at pride parades when she has the courage to go to one)

Beauregard: I’m not too sure how these two would end up meeting but I think they’d be a cute pair. Maybe Penny had a meltdown over something right by Beauregard’s storage cupboard and he stumbles across her. Penny’s anger goes right over his head, but her annoyance at being found shifts to unease when she sees the state of disarray his cleaning cupboard is in. She ends up re-organising it and maybe from there Penny just goes to hangout with Beauregard when she needs a break 

Lazer-

Rizzo/Pepe: Drinking buddies, they talk about girls and guys they like. They’ve all probably ended up drunk together and woken up hungover in weird circumstances none of them remember how they got into

Animal: Digs his energy and is not phased by his loudness in the slightest. Lazer feels more of ease to be himself, stim and be loud around Animal because he doesn’t judge. As well as being a DJ I can picture Lazer playing the drums so him and Animal sometimes jam together, or Lazer will listen to Animal bash his drums and offer feedback (it’s very positive and encouraging everytime, Lazer just loves the energy!) 

Fozzie: He actually likes Fozzie’s jokes, doesn’t understand why some people don’t find them funny, he thinks he’s genuinely hilarious. Lazer likes to do deliberately stupid puns to mess with Penny so he and Fozzie exchange joke material and even brainstorm stuff together 

Gonzo: Lowkey Lazer is probably a huge fan of Gonzo and his stunts. I don’t know how old Gonzo is but  imagine he’s older then Lazer, and Lazer probably huge idol like respect for him. Nowadays I like to imagine Gonzo as a writer, his stunt days are behind him - but he’s still prone to dancing with danger when he gets the chance to, you can never retire from the daredevil lifestyle, as he says. Lazer did fanboy so hard when he saw Gonzo for the first time to Penny. Shaking her arm and everything while whispering stuff like “Look! Fucking LOOK! It’s Gonzo!-“ 

#The Muppets #Muppets #Muppet OC’s #Zoot’s cousins #Zee #Zephyr #Raph #Raphael #Pennt #Penelope #my art #Lazer #Liv

[gallifvrey]

okay but -

the first day the doctor is staying over at their house, its - for lack of a better word - normal. it feels normal, like having a friend over, even having the doctor over. they're coming down from the rage and anger of "the giggle". no one knows how to reconcile with the hurt they've caused, how to move on from the hurt they've experienced.

donna's just grateful that her family is alive if nothing else. they're clearly struggling - rose staying in her room, sylvia quieter than normal, even shaun seems a bit more keen to compliment her than usual. and then theres the doctor too - sitting in the living room sometimes, pacing around the garden at others.

it's not even like he seems restless - rather just a bit uncomfortable. staying around after a devastation like this is busy, but its the kind of busy that donna knows he's not used to, is uncomfortable with. too many long meetings on rebuilding UNIT. too many boring discussions about the future, prevention. the doctor has some great ideas, but donna can see (can feel, almost, her mind flashing with the memory of a brain moving that fast, of a body that unable to keep still), can see how he's itching to do something.

but still, it's the days after that are even worse. the meetings peter off, the plan is in motion and the need for the doctor for such mundane tasks is gone. the doctor has time to rest now.

of course, he doesnt. donna discovers this as shes woken up at 3 in the morning by scraping on her window, the night before their first actual day off. the doctor explains that he is just resealing the windows - they had started to become less sealed, and it can let in breezes from the time winds, and those can be very dangerous when you sleep.

donna, woken mid sleep, just nods and turns over to place the pillow over her ear and block out the noise.

but thats just the beginning. she comes downstairs in the morning to find the entire kitchen in shambles, the doctor claiming that he was inventing something that would cut down her morning routine by hours. she is not interested in arguing before shes had some coffee, so she just smiles, grabs the (so far untouched) kettle, and moves on.

by the evening the doctor's managed to put together the appliances in more or less the same fashion - though the toaster seems to sing now while it's toasting ("always good to have a nice tune to wake you up, yeah?"), the fridge makes a kind of grumbling noise as the food starts to go bad ("useful in telling what you need to eat!"). the oven, so far, seems to be untouched, until they notice that any magnetic items brought near it seem to cause the oven to act as a sort of metal detector ("this, perhaps, was not the must useful addition").

the changes don't stop. over the next week donna discovers that amongst other things - her closet's been reindexed so all the clothes are arranged by date of manufacturing. the kitchen spices are restocked with flavors from planets she's never heard of. donna swears that the hose was even repainted.

this goes on for weeks, which turn into months. the doctor just doesn't seem to stop. either doing things around the house or running into the tardis and fiddling with things there. it comes to a point where sylvia, dona, rose and shaun are sitting around the table, watching the doctor muck about the garden where sylvia goes "does that man ever rest?"

and just that alone hits donna - makes her realize, she never sees him rest. the bed in the spare room is untouched, he's never just sitting down except at meals when she makes him sit down, makes him get some food inside of him. time lords, she's been told over and over again, don't need to eat as often. but she feels his bones digging into her in the occasions that they hug.

its like taming a cat, she thinks, to get the doctor to come inside and rest for a moment. a bit of deceit, a bit of trying to make the space more comfortable for him, and a lot of time and patience. it takes another few months of a more pronounced effort. of conversations with the doctor - of "this was meant to be a break. you're not taking one"

she's not even sure it works, really. figures she's done her best and its a part of them that wont change. and its fine, she's donna, she's lived in their head, knows how much is going on in there.

its not until one night, when she's woken up to a noise coming from down the hall. it takes her a moment, of heading closer to the noise and realizing its coming from the doctors room, to figure out what it is. and it shatters her heart when she does.

the doctor, in his room, crying in his sleep. clearly trying to muffle the noise, but its only so possible when you're unconscious. she hears the beginnings of screams, occasionally, but cut off, as though trying to stop anyone from hearing. as though trying desperately not to let anyone find out.

(Why does he have to sleep out here?)

(He doesn't want the others to hear him crying.)

#personal #dw spoilers #my writing #didnt like. proof read this. i just had the thought and had to get it out #i wanna post a longer version of this to ao3 at some point...when i have free time again

[theimpossiblescheme]

your choice

Toulliver was actually Victoria's next door neighbor for a long time. Her home was a rather cold and sterile place with humans that treated their cats more as decorations than living things with needs, and little Victoria was often neglected there. Toully's home, on the other hand, was full of kindness and life and cats (and dogs and birds!) who actually cared about what she had to say, so she would often sneak out at night to spend time there. The old hospital cat quickly became a sort of grandfatherly figure to her, playing with her, showing her around the house and the rest of the neighborhood, and teaching her to communicate with the other animals they met. He never had any kittens of his own--never had time, never found a mate who really wanted to settle down--but he came to consider Victoria as good as his. When she disappeared from her human home, he heard whispers that she'd been abandoned and immediately went out looking for her. To his relief, the Junkyard had become a much happier and safer home for her than that stuffy old townhouse could ever be, and he couldn't have been prouder to see her so content in her new life. Whenever he isn't busy with his human, Toully often comes out to visit, and Victoria always greets him with the same warm, tip-of-her-toes hug that she did as a kitten.

(He's a fantastic great-grandpa to hers and Plato's future kittens, too, of course. Bianca in particular always loves showing off her newest acquisitions from the rubbish piles, and Toully sees a lot of his younger self in her. "Perhaps I could have gone into the inventing business myself," he says, "if I didn't like sitting around and talking so much." And Bianca always laughs.)

#I need to do more with Toully too--he's the latest in my OC litter and I love him dearly. <3 #cats the musical #OCs #victoria #my headcanons #asked and answered #bombawife

[nvstgn]

summarized plot arranged as pretty as the rest of this blog? ♥

The story is told by a first-person protagonist, Nero Locke, and he has pretty interesting backstory in itself. He is sixteen years old, and his story starts when he dies.

The planet he is living in is called Cromia T347 and that's a place the humanity moved after the world ended on earth a very long time ago. The planet is ruled from its capital, Nova Voxis, by an organization called Nemesis, which rules from high and controls everything from the politics to the technology that is very advanced in their world. Those people have a secret goal though, and it is to replace the still existing mortal race with androids that would live and rule the planet forever.

So, a second apocalypse for the human's it would be. The organization tries to make that happen with underground actions most of the people don't know about, much like a mafia of sorts in their verse. The capital city is a very corrupted place under the surface and completely under their watching eye.

Neo lives in a way smaller city called Eden Tiania which is a mining city and very big at business with precious metals, especially one called Eden Iasine or just Iasine. The metal is fabricated to the material that is needed to make the most important components for the cyborgs and androids, and its nickname is 'gem of life' for that very reason.

The story starts when Nero gets stuck in the mining site one night and hears a conversation between Nemesis members that have come to fetch the metal mined for their operations. He gets caught and killed in the mines and is found by his uncle and a searching patrol the next day, murdered after hearing way too much.

His uncle, dr. G.E Locke, is a famous scientist that has invented many of the components used to create AI life, as well as many other important pieces of tech that the world trusts to operate. He builds Nero back to life using the very same technology he has access to thanks to Iasine - which in the boy's case means a mechanical heart to replace the one that has stopped, a new arm to fix his mangled one, new eyes and most of the failed organs after his brutal death and falling down to the mines. Basically, he builds a cyborg to replace the son of his sister. After waking up Nero only remembers bits and pieces here and there, definitely not being dropped to his death few days before.

In the time he was lifeless the rest of his family has been deleted from existence by Nemesis, his parents and little sister are gone, but his uncle seems to know enough to tell him they are not dead. To figure out what happened to them and to remember what he heard at the mining site - since his uncle claims it's crucial for him to do so - he travels to the capital, Nova Voxis, to figure out the mystery of his family and city and to quite possibly prevent the end of the world as the human race knows it. As he does, he meets his two best friends to be, Zarah Yana who is a mechanic shop owner, and Leslie Brattle, a super sarcastic foodie hacker who seems to hide something from his past. Later on, they are joined by Cyrus Sinclair, an older boy who saves them after a chasing scene at a mall's laser tag maze against officers that work for Nemesis.

The teens figure out that the true headquarters for the organization are hidden in the old capital city, that now is destroyed and - so it's told - empty after a civil war that was fought a long time ago and that left Nemesis in charge in the first place. The last part they figure out through some hardships since the bloody history of the organization is well hidden and erased from the memories of most of humankind. In the old capital the people that learnt about the dark truth about the organization at some point of their lives now wander aimlessly and mindlessly after their memory has been wiped away by the organization they crossed.

The city is called The Square of Ghosts, but it has a name that it once went by - Nova Vaglen, that helped to form the name for the current capital Nova Voxis.

[spoilers from the final chapters!!]

After learning the truth and cracking the mystery during their long adventure in the planets history and Nero's home city's origins (and after a couple of betrayals, some new friends, fights and sneaky missions, all the good stuff) it's time to face the problem at its source, so the main three head to the organizations grounds once more to stop their underground operation, one called project Regina, to save the human kind and destroy the AI that was meant to rule their world for the rest of eternity, only to find out Nero was the one that was needed to launch the operation in the first place.

His uncle, that now turns out to be part of Nemesis leading table, had been the reason Nero lost his life in the first place and built the boy again to be a key weapon against the humanity, knowing the project would be launched the moment the boy's code entered its system. The code is called code Locke, something that Nero got as a little gift with his prosthesis arm and matches with the activating system in the Nemesis lab. So instead of saving the world, our hero has been the very key to destroy it all along.

#asks #I tried my best to make it pretty for you #nvstgn

[bookofmirth]

Anonymous asked:

One thing that is a fact:

If it was really Azriel's shadows that Elain stepped out of, Feyre would've mentioned that. Feyre has seen Azriel's shadows and I just know that she would've said "Elain stepped out of one of Azriel's shadows". And no I don't want to hear "Feyre doesn't know his shadows" because the author does have to let us know what is going on. Or maybe Feyre should have said something like "smoking shadow"? It was never even mentioned again that it happened so how important is that moment really? What is important and shocking is that it was Elain who stabbed the enemy, not that Elain stepped out of a fricking shadow. The word "shadow" doesn't always apply to Azriel's shadows. The shadow that Sarah meant was probably just the King of Hybern's shadow or the shadow of something above Elain? You know these scenes in movies where the characters are coming out of a shadowy place? Where they come to the light and you see them clearly? It was most likely a scene like that and I will laugh at all those who thought this little word has some big meaning behind it when we'll see that scene on TV.

It also doesn't make any scenes? They would never leave Azriel, even if it was for a moment. They skitter back from Elain and isn't it already claimed that "Elain will make his shadows vanish because they're not good"? And how tf are they able to transport someone who isn't Azriel to another place? I never knew that they can do that because it never was mentioned before and after that scene.

Yes, Azriel can give orders to his shadows. He controls them, but wouldn't Feyre or anyone at least mentioned how Azriel had helped her? Wouldn't Azriel have mentioned that?

So what else is Sarah supposed to call those dark things if not "shadow" so everyone wouldn't think it's Azriel's shadows??

Heyo anon, I got rid of your last paragraph because it had a questionable comparison between race and something else, and I don't think you intended it so I just... got rid of it!

These are all interesting points though... sjm doesn't shy away from the shadow imagery in general, and so she is usually clear about when she's talking about Az's shadow and when it's just your run of the mill shadows. Doing a quick search of that word in acomaf and acowar, and you can see pretty quickly that it's one of her typical "light, dark, night, shadow, glow" etc.

Mor also steps out of a shadow in acomaf, Ianthe's face is described as being in shadow, Feyre "exploded into night and shadow". Az is a shadowsinger but much like Elain and roses, he did not invent shadows. He does not own the patent. Shadows exist around other characters, and they are not all magical or connected to him, just like Elain didn't grow literally every plant we read about in every acotar book.

So yeah, sjm makes it clear when she is talking about Az's shadows because he appears from them, or Feyre knows that he has made them disappear, etc. There is always intent there. If Elain used Azriel's shadows to transport, then why is that so ambiguous? Az isn't there, and when he is present with his shadows, the shadows always show some sort of sentience. It's distinctly different in this scene. Talk about taking a big moment for Elain and making it about Az...

The reason that Elain stepped out of shadow is to emphasize that no one noticed her there. She hasn't been training with her own powers let alone someone else's so how in the world??? I wouldn't be surprised if she knew to be there because of her visions, but that's the extent of it.

And I've said this before and I'll say it again, it wasn't a positive moment for Elain - she saved Nesta, but I am willing to bet she has nightmares about killing Hybern. We don't celebrate Feyre killing the two faeries at the end of acotar even though it saved everyone's lives because we know she didn't want to have to do it. It's the same thing with Elain and Hybern, to me.

#antielriel #just because #ask #anon

[trannydean]

RvB Monster Realm!AU

@queerchorus wanted to hear about this so here is my most recent and honestly my current favorite au, my monster realm!au. (it's really long and i forgot to add a 'keep reading' thing last night)

It starts out with Simmons. Simmons is a human in the human realm and he's not doing all right. He's got a sucky dad who passive aggressively hates him, a job that underpays and stresses him out, and he's got no friends or acquaintances so he's lonely.

After a particularly bad day at work, he decides he's had enough, and he just runs for it. He takes his in-shitty-condition car and heads down the highway. No two-week notice to his job (bc they don't deserve one), no telling his landlord he's leaving (fuck landlords anyway). He just grabs a few things and leaves.

Unfortunately for him, he's stressed out to the point he didn't realize he's running low on gas, and he ends up broken down on the side of a lonesome highway. There's no service, so he can't call a tow truck (not that he could afford to pay for one anyway). He hasn't seen many other people driving along this highway since he got on it, so catching a ride to anywhere was slim. This poor guy is hitting his breaking point.

As Simmons is about to fuck it and start walking back in the direction he came, he seems something flash by in the woods that lines one side of the highway. Usually, he's smart enough to not go after something strange in the woods, but this guy isn't running on logic right now. Simmons goes after it to investigate.

As he chases this thing, he is only catching glimpses through the woods, he's beginning to wonder if his mind had been playing tricks on him. Then, Simmons catches more than a half-second glance of it, right before it just disappears in thin air.

Of course, Simmons is like "uh, what the fuck?" but, like the idiot he is, he goes to the spot it disappeared at. I don't know what he was expecting, but he disappeared too lol.

It turns out that Simmons had found a portal to another realm. It sort of overlaps the human realm--they co-exist over each other? Next to each other? I'm not exactly sure on the logistics quite yet. But whatever it is, there are folds in between the two realms that sometimes cause portals that can transport a being from one realm to the other.

If you're not used to this traveling between realms gig, there are side-effects like migraines, bleeding noses, etc. Simmons? He passes out.

Now, that strange thing Simmons was following was Tau [one of my AI OCs], the little pet dragon of Mich [my main RvB OC] (he's fit-in-your-arms small, so he's definitely on the littler side of dragon species in this realm.) Animals can sense the portals between realms a lot better than other beings, such as humans and several types of monsters, so they often go through the portals to explore each realm. That's why you get crows in the monster realm and the occasional unicorn in the human realm. Tau goes to the human realm to pick up trinkets and supplies and such to bring back to the monster realm (*cough cough* yes, like Owlbert in TOH *cough cough*).

As usual with each excursion Tau goes on, Mich is in the area Tau had left at, waiting for him. She had dragged Grif along to come with her, since no one else at their place was available (aka, Grif had the weakest excuse as to why he couldn't come along).

Before I go on with the plot, I'm going to explain what each of the RnBs (Carolina and Wash are not included as of yet) are so there's no confusion.

Sarge is a gremlin/goblin sort of thing (I haven't figured out which would benefit the plot and humor level more). He's short and grumpy and is quite into inventing. He's the "leader" of the Red side of the clan/group/pack and is very insistent on Reds and Blues being separate, they definitely all hate each other, blah blah blah. Even though they all live in the same house. It causes quite a many disagreements--like how Sarge refuses to use the front door, since it's on the Blues' "side" of the house, so he uses windows and tunnels to leave the house. Or how the kitchen is on the Reds' "side", and he tries demanding payment any time the Blues try getting a meal they need/want. Sarge also helped design and create the house they all live in... and he designed it specifically special for everyone... and he always takes much care in expanding the house when someone new comes to live with them, whether they're Red or Blue... he's somewhat of a hypocrite.

Grif is a werewolf because yes to a big hairy man. He and his little sister were separated from their pack years ago during migration (uh I forgot if there's another word for wolves traveling from different den areas) (also, they weren't separated by accident 👀👀). They were found by Sarge, who at the time only had Mich staying with him. Sarge took them in and raised them. Now, Grif lives in a house full of morons that he says he hates. He never moved once he got older, though, and doesn't really plan on it. He excuses it as he'd rather stick with a bunch of idiots rather than wander alone until he found a new pack. Really, he cares about them and doesn't want to leave them. He'll never admit that, though.

Donut's an angel. He's got the wings (no halo, though... sorry all) and he does have a true angel form, although not many have seen it. He only shifts into that form when he's genuinely pissed off, which is thankfully not often. A while back, he was injured by a couple of demons and was discarded in the woods. He was found by the RnBs and they took him in to help him get back to health. When he was healed, Donut decided to stay, since everyone was so nice and they were now all his friends, even if they don't always share his cheerful sentiment.

Mich... well, nobody knows exactly what she is, or where she came from. Sarge says that she was dropped off as a baby at his old place's doorstep, and he had taken her in and raised her. She doesn't doubt him... though maybe she should, because he's not telling her the full story. That'll be a plot point later on, though. For now, Mich calls herself a hybrid and loves the mystery of it. Everybody just goes along with it, since that's probably what she was, in some way. They speculate that she's at least part demon, due to her leathery wings and completely chaotic attitude. Despite being probably part-demon, however, she and Donut are best friends. Almost everyone is her best friend, however, because no matter how annoying and chaotic she is, she will find any way to make someone her friend, if she wants to. Nobody complains though, because they like her, too.

Doc is a wizard. He isn't the best at what he does--quite far from that, actually--which is why he had his healing license taken and was exiled from his guild/coven/whatever. That, and he was harboring an ill-tempered poltergeist named O'Malley. Doc can perform some healing magic, some of the time, which is good because these muttonheads of the RnB household are always getting hurt. He might be an incompetent at best healer, but he's a good friend (even if he does like to recommend strange things in the ways of cooking). He had been wandering around a busy market on day when Sarge spotted him. Seeing his now-torn healer guild/coven badge on his coat, Sarge asked Doc to come back to his home to help one of his kids house residents, who was sick at the time. Nervous but hopeful, Doc went with Sarge, and Doc ended up successfully healing them. Doc was more than overjoyed to actually do something right for once. He ended up asking Sarge if he could stay with the RnBa, and Sarge obliged.

I don't know what Lopez is yet, but he was created by the combined powers of Sarge and a wizard who visits on occasion to the RnB residence (it's Florida. He and Sarge are boyfriends). Lopez can speak every language other than "common", which is what most monsters universally speak, or at least understand. Lopez understands it, all right--he just refuses to speak it. And he almost never speaks in a language any of the residents understands--it's a stubbornness thing. Lopez is tired, so tired, but he is loyal to his family companions and sticks with them, despite having the opportunity to leave them multiple times. He helps with Sarge's inventions and tries to improve them... or at least make sure they don't explode anything. (If anyone has suggestions on what Lopez can be, I'm open to hear any!)

Church is what is known as a human reflection. He used to be a human who had accidentally found his way into the monster realm like Simmons had. Church was found by Donut and Mich, who had been in the woods gathering ingredients for a potion Doc was working on. They brough Church back to the RnB residence, but Church was desperate to get back to the human realm. He had friends, and a girlfriend. He wanted to get back home. Sarge told him that there was a way to create an artificial portal that can get him right back to the spot where he had entered the first portal (a natural portal can take you anywhere, and besides, they're very difficult to find). The process to make one, however, was difficult, and finding all of the ingredients is even more so. Despite this, Church was determined to get back home. They found everything (or what they thought was everything) in four months, which astonished the group--it was normal for it to take several more months, even years, to gather everything. Sarge built the portal, and after saying goodbye, Church stepped into the portal. However, the portal didn't take him right back to where he had come from. Something was wrong with the portal, and instead of taking him back to the human realm, he was now in the in-between space of the two realms. Every portal is one-way, natural or artificial, so now he couldn't even go back to the monster realm. So he's stuck in the in-between realm. But there's one good(?) thing about being stuck there is that he can see into both realms--he can appear in reflections in either realm to see into them. Mirrors, water, polished metal, anything like that (*cough cough* yes, another thing I borrowed from TOH). The RnBs put mirrors all over the house so he can appear anywhere he wants. Church now doesn't age, but his grumpiness continues to grow at a disappointingly steady rate.

Tucker is another human who stumbled into the monster realm. He came a few years after Church. He got found by Doc this time, looking for herbs. Doc brought Tucker back to the house, but not before making Tucker carry a bunch of stuff for him lmao. Unlike Church, when Tucker heard about how hard it is to create a portal, he decided to stay in the monster realm. It seemed a lot easier to just learn to live in the monster realm then to find all this rare stuff to make a portal that might not even work. He ended up having a fling with an orc, which produced Junior. He ended up with Junior, since the kid didn't really fit in with the tough lifestyle that particular orc clan had. But that's okay because Tucker loves his son. The RnBs help out with Junior, so he's got a bunch of uncles.

Caboose is a centaur. He was found wandering alone when he was young, and Sarge adopted him took him in. He's the happiest guy in the entire realm and everyone knows it. He's friendly to everybody and often has to be stopped from breaking people's ribs with his literally bone-crushing hugs. Caboose loves giving his friends rides and running fast with them--he often scares them when he starts running fast. Soon after he was taken in by Sarge, he found a baby dragon alone in the woods. He took it in, named it Freckles after the brown flecks on its snout, and raised it as his pet. Freckles grew to the size of a large retriever (still significantly smaller, even miniscule, compared to other dragons in the realm) and is quite friendly, as long as no one is threatening Caboose. If that's the case, he's quite ready to spring on the attack. He can and is capable of tearing off limbs.

Kai is a werewolf like her older brother Dex, but when their mom was pregnant with Kai, she was bitten by a vampire, altering Kai's appearance and abilities. She's smaller than most werewolves (in both regular and shifted form), but has heightened senses and resistance to most vampire and werewolf deterrents. Her regular form makes her appear more like a furry vampire, and her shifted form is mostly hairless, but with huge ears, fangs, and claws. Her "strange" appearance is what eventually got her and Grif left behind by their pack during a migration. (Another reason why Grif doesn't want to go searching for a new "pack"--he doesn't want to encounter his old one. He also would never leave Kai). Despite the whole getting abandoned by the pack thing as a child, Kai is quite cheerful, energetic, and happy to explore the world. After getting found by Sarge, she was able to know what it's like to be in a family that won't degrade her for how she looks (hybrids aren't usually frowned upon, btw. It's just that pack was a bunch of old-fashioned dicks). She's a lot happier in the RnBs household now.

Now, back to the story. Mich and Grif are waiting for Tau to return from the human realm. Tau eventually reaches them, and instead of being ready to come home like he usually is, Tau leads them further into the woods. Puzzled, Mich follows, while Grif groans and complains, just wanting to get back home to eat the Oreos Tau had brought him (the monster realm has Oreos, but Grif doesn't think they taste all that good). Tau leads them to an unconscious Simmons, much to the two's surprise. They're standing there, wondering what to do with him (Church and Tucker hadn't been passed out when they had been found so this is new), and Simmons comes to. He sees Grif and Mich and screams. Mich is like "hey hey calm down!! We're not gonna hurt you!!" and while talking, she brandishes her large fangs and waves her hands sporting huge ass claws around. Simmons faints again gkhfkjd.

Grif's like "wow this guy's a fucking wuss" and Mich is like "we should get Doc to help him". Grif shrugs, and when he makes no sign of moving, Mich huffs in annoyance and races back to the house. While she's gone, Simmons comes to again and freaks out again, though on a slightly lesser level. Grif is quite annoyed and is like "dude calm down, I'm not going to eat you". Simmons tries to calm down and Grif just stands there, impatiently waiting for Mich to return with Doc.

Simmons calms himself down enough to stop dramatically freaking out. He asks "where am I, who are you, and what the fuck was up with the… other…. thing?" (rude, Simmons) Grif rolls his eyes and responds with "you're in the monster realm, human. I'm Grif, and she's my fr--housemate--Mich. Mich is a bit overbearing. you get used to it".

Mich returns with Doc, and Simmons' anxiety spikes a bit but doesn't start freaking out again. Doc helps him with his bloody nose, which Simmons did not notice until it was pointed out, and Simmons asks a bunch of questions about this "monster realm". he finds out about the difficulty to make a portal and is quite bummed. Especially when they tell him that Sarge is the only one around who would be willing to make a portal. He decides that he'll have to do some research to make sure the portal is done right--he doesn't want to turn into a human reflection like Church. Speaking of Church--he and Simmons are cousins and are quite surprised by the reunion. "so THAT'S what happened to you" "I don't want to talk about it".

This is mainly what I have for the plot so far. I've got a couple certain things that will come into the story eventually--such as parts of the journey to finding the components for the portal-- that'll I'll be listing here, along with different species I want to incorporate into this AU.

During the trek to finding the portal ingredients, Sarge tells the group (consisting of himself, Simmons, Tucker, and Grif) that they will have to get past a "moving mountain". Simmons asks what this means, and Sarge tells him about certain mountains that are there some of the time and gone other times. Simmons figures this means the mountain goes invisible, or it's some magic thing. When they get there, the mountain is gone. Sarge urges them to hurry before the mountain came back. Simmons is surprised that they aren't climbing up an invisible mountain, but definitely doesn't mind crossing the huge, open valley. As they're getting towards the end of the valley, the "mountain" returns, except it's not a mountain--it's a dragon, the size of a mountain. Simmons had come to believe that, since he'd only seen Freckles and Tau so far, that all dragons were on the smaller side here, and is terrified to see such a huge dragon. Tucker tells him that it won't hurt them, because it probably doesn't even notice them--it's sight and hearing are too weak to pick up on them. Sarge adds that they need to hurry, though, before the dragon flattens them when it comes to settle back down, and they barely make it across the rest of the valley before the dragon completely lays down.

As stated before, Sarge has been lying about where Mich had come from and what she is. What actually happened was that while out in a forest one day, and found a section of it that was on fire. He heard the wailing of a child. Sarge found baby Mich close to the fire, crying. He quickly rescued her and got her away from the flames. In the distance, he saw winged figures flapping away, and realized that they must have left her there, for some strange reason. He never told Mich the truth because he didn't want her to know she was abandoned, left for dead, in a field of flame. While Sarge, Grif, Simmons, and Tucker are on the hunt for the portal ingredients, Mich somehow finds out about the truth of what happened with her as an infant. She waits until they come back home to confront Sarge about it, and there's a long, drawn-out argument about it. They eventually break it up (read: Caboose drags Mich away from the situation) and fall in an prickly uneasiness around each other. Mich tries to find out who abandoned her in the fire and definitely doesn't find what she was expecting.

The Freelancers are going to have a role in here somehow. York (Mich's biological older brother) is definitely showing up, and he might've been in the plot of abandoning Mich (not willingly). Wash and Carolina are definitely making appearances too. I want to also have CT, the twins, Maine, Tex, and probably others here, as well. I just need to find ways of incorporating them (suggestions on this are welcome!)

The twins are going to be vampires (because they're so pale haha).

And now for the list of species I want to incorporate. If anyone has suggestions for additional species or possible ways of them being involved in the AU, please let me know!

chimera (chimera milk is a delicacy) (its eggs are a tradeable good on the black market)

elves (wood elves, dark elves, light elves)

orcs

dragons (different species) (scales are often harvested for potions, fashion, etc) (dragon farms are common) (there are dragon reserves as well as dragon poachers)

dryads

fairies/pixies (dark and light)

merpeople (partially and fully aquatic varities)

phoenixes (their tears, containing powerful healing powers, are highly valuable)

fauns/satyrs

griffins

harpies

brownies

kitsunes

hydra

sirens (a subspecies of merperson who has powers to draw one in via singing. can be partially or fully aquatic)

poltergeists

ghosts/spirits

witches/wizards/sorcerers

selkies

sphinx

unicorns/pegasi (the plural for pegasus in this AU)

manticore (venom within stinger is highly valuable)

salamanders (on fire ones)

centaurs

minotaurs

basilisks

werecats

#rvb #red vs blue #rvb au #rvb monster realm!au #aloe's aus #this took HOURS to write #omg i'm tired

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Saturday 9 August 1834

7 35

1

quiet night cutting nails and preparing another linen for cousin very fine morning F72° at 9 am - very hot in the night – breakfast at 9 –out at 11 35 A- and I with George and laquais de place (in landaulette and [pair]) chez Paturlet and compagnie Place St. Pierre no. 1  buying shawl for Miss W- of Cliff Hill and for Marian – then at a print shop or 2 and home at 2 ½ - A- had cold fowl – out again at 3 20 – bought plan of Lyons and at the musée from 4 20 to 5 – the silver shield found in the Rhone sold by the authorities of the city for a great price to government and gone to Paris – government wants the large picture, view of the taking of Lille by Louis 14 – but not to be sold unless for a large sum – the cabinet (a large handsome Noyer armoire) of 15,500 medals not to be seen but by express permission of the authorities of the city – 2 good pictures by Rubens and 1 or 2 by the old Italian masters, otherwise nothing very particular - from 5 to 5 25 in the musée of natural history in the same building (old convent of dames de St Pierre) this musée has made great acquisitions this year and is being newly done [?] - the mineralogical part all yet to place in the handsome Noyer armoires of 500 to 600fr. a piece - very fine fossil fish from the country of Dorset and several things from England - said I had chez Lafont mineralogist on the quai but found him too dear - for a smallish specimen of iron from Chessy asked 6/. because the mine of this iron Epuisé [épuisé] - asked 40/. for a quartz crystal very large and fine but not worth so much - from  the musée del histoire natural to the bank of Guerin and co. – got 1990/. for £75 exchange 25/20 - did not go out of the carriage - sent for someone to come to me - then to the Jardin des plantes – rather a nice pretty promenade for the people, overlooking from the top part great part of the city - then to Léonard Drivon, an ingenious velvet-weaver, the inventor of the means of weaving velvet 1 1/2 aune wide - began 8days ago and will finish in 8 months, 45 ells of this, vert émeraude, at 250/. l’aune for the King of England to his salon with - much interested - the weft is divided into toile which forms the piece and poile which stars up thro’ the toile, is cut, and forms the nap or velvet - the battant (beam) weights 150 lbs. the poile is raised on a brass wire round with a small grove in it on one side, and the 2 other sides flat and brought to an edge opposite the round part - this grove is by a lean forward of the beam brought to the top, and a small tool runs along and cuts the poile and thus forms the velours or nap - it takes 6 ½ ells of poile to make 1 ell of velvet - the man and his daughter (aetatis 16) have 50/. an ell for weaving and can weave an ell in a week - only invented the means of weaving velvet so wide, 5 years ago - was doing some for Charles X, but when he was déchée, his order countermanded - he had his frames to knock up and thus lost 4000fr. by the revolution - the négocians do not manufacture themselves - the workmen find loans and house room and everything for so much an ell - Leonard has all the workmen in this building, under him - and he has one ½ and they the other of what is paid for weaving - setting a frame to waistcoat piece of velours broché, costs 400/. or 500fr. so that in fact, the master workman does not gain enough - his wife upstairs (2 stories) with the people weaving these waistcoat pieces - she can earn 15/. a week having 9/. an ell for the piece she is doing - left A- downstairs with Leonard and went to see the waistcoat weaving  - the frames (the mechanism at the top, to form the pattern) very complex – Leonard is employed by M. Montera and co. rue des Feuillans – he deals in all sort of soierie – a great whole sale warehouse but will sell by retail - cheaper than the retail shop – A- and I will go and see - home again at 7 ½  dinner at 7 ¾ - A- much better today – wrote all the above of today till 12 tonight – very fine day – very hot – I am now sitting in my dressing gown in a state of solution - F72 ½° at 11 ¼ pm - A- in bed by 10 ½

[6fu]

Stories from the War: Winter 1149

By death and expulsion, the leadership of the Guard was not in an ideal position to wage a war. Bronwyn had never had the luxury of an ideal position before, so she was ready to step up as a tactician. The documents smuggled out by a Spear agent were invaluable. She never said so. It wasn’t worth the risk of being cast out like Stjepan, or the loss to morale if she wasn’t cast out for being a possible Spear sympathizer. But she had been following that group long before anyone else knew they existed. And she knew this would be their legacy: only useful by accident.

Governor Bluebell of Ivydale never regretted the deal she struck to feed Dorigift and Gilpledge as they rebuilt. Yes, it was the end of her political career. Nothing could change that. But the way she structured that reserve was the foundation for a later deal, one that fed craftsmice across many settlements and kept the defenders of the territories supplied. She learned to give up a place in the histories for the assurance they would one day be written.

Many brave mice marched west. Many others defended the places where they stood. Kearra the cartographer’s heart fluttered for each of them. She waited for one to sweep her up in their arms on the docks of Port Sumac. Maybe Ephraim still remembered her. Perhaps Marx dreamt of the night they spent together nearly two years before. Adventure was for other mice. Dreaming and pining were Kearra’s.

Everyone says “necessity is the mother of invention” but the uncomfortable truth is that war creates more necessities than anything else. Vidar had become administrator of an Elmoss lab meeting those needs. One new compound was named for him on a whim, and it worked wonderfully well. They say it saved lives. He doesn’t talk about it now in peacetime. Nobody wants to share a name with a weapon like that.

There was so much to fight for, but Tallulah and Levi had no fight left in them. They ran from Mayor Cavre when he began his final slide. They lived through Darkheather and the march across the wilderness. That’s enough for anybody, but even now little Rust wasn’t safe. But they couldn’t take up arms, not with Levi’s paw or Tallulah’s restless nights. No, they would fight a different battle in their new home in Thistledown. They helmed donation drives, scavenging missions, and a campaign for rationing. Historians credit the end of the famine not to the agrarian south, whose fields were trampled by armies, but the engaged and generous north.

Garrow had fixed things all his life, and always found it best to take it one step at a time, even if the land itself was breaking. He made a promise, of sorts, to that Waxwort witch that he intended to keep. When he left his home, a number of neighbors came with. And it turned out he had neighbors in Willowroot, Flintrust, Oakgrove, and Lilygrove too. Before they reached the east, his band had already survived some skirmishes, and collapsed some tunnels. They had started calling him “sergeant” as a joke, but it stuck by the time he reached the fields of Walnutpeck. He never left those fields. Many mice survived the retreat because he refused to take it.

Fulbert, Lord of Tunnel Bone sat waiting for dawn. He was to charge forward and draw out the defenders of Elmwood, exposing them to hidden troops from Tunnel Steel. It was a good plan, but he could not sleep all the same. That is why he saw his sister Isile coming from down a tree, checking a pouch to be sure its contents were safe. He hated confronting Isile. It always felt bad; even worse when he got his way. This argument was shorter than most, and Fulbert was sad to realize that didn’t save his feelings either. She had retrieved a message, hidden up high, from Lily of the Mouse Guard. They had been writing each other about everything except the war. He recognized a few of the names in the mouse’s gossip, and recognized his sister in her dreams. It hurt him most of all to burn the letter, but he would rather have a sister who lived to hate him than one who died because he failed to protect her.

Hannidy, the Facilitator of the Scent Barrier was no longer head of Elmoss’ second family, but the Lieutenant of its Third. Politics. It meant he was in no place to refuse the honor of leading Elmoss’ regiment at the front. Hannidy did always enjoy new medals, at least. He didn’t enjoy the ice. He didn’t enjoy the dirt. He didn’t enjoy the paranoia. He didn’t enjoy the ambush. His new medals adorn a grave, marked with several of his titles.

The war reminded Sylvia of her childhood, an unwelcome fact. Only now it was in slow motion. Not one day, but many. Not one place of tragedy, but many. She had a letter from Zeke saying the curse was dead. There was nothing to fear from the skies. But now, the ground beneath held terror. She left Wildseed as she had left many places before.

The Haven Guild was found unaware. It was too caught up in its mission to fulfill its purpose. Faolan of Wildseed had little affection for the Black Axe legend. Her membership was a career move. This gave her perspective. They had a network of mice, caches of goods, secret passages, all ready to put toward defending Mouse society. Let the search for the true Axe rest, she urged the guild. If he still walks, and this doesn’t bring him out, what good is he anyway? If the line is broken, then let us do the job for him.

Gayle sat in Lockhaven, far from the war. Not far at all on a map, but quite insulated. Yes, she was surrounded by mice waging it, and her cell had also become medical supply storage, but the war was still something “out there” to her. Bloodier gossip. She was quite happy with how things were going. Not exactly the way she would have gone about things, no, but every mouse was in agreement that the weasels must be met with force. Every battle mice spoke of in these halls was a victory to her ears.

The Smoketon Inn was never full until the war came, and Smoketon the innkeeper wasn’t there to attend to foreign soldier’s needs. He was on the front himself with them. Sure they were useful, but defending Pebblebrook was Pebblebrook’s own duty. Not like these mice had cared much what happened here in years passed. And he told them about it. Every free moment he shared another story he knew. Big things, little things, famous things, secret things. By the time the fighting had ended, every mouse remaining knew Pebblebrrok as well as Smoketon himself. One of them took his place in the Inn, in his absence.

Lucius and Jonwyn waited for all this fuss to end. They’d lived through tensions, and skirmishes, even a full war or two. And that’s only the weasel problems! It was the cold that got Lucius in the end, and Jonwyn kept living for them both, in the one decently built house between them.

When the war found Corben he was ready to meet it. It was a kind of comfort, knowing who the enemy was and what was meant to be done, at least compared to the open secrets and polite fictions of Pebblebrook. And a foreman is a leader of mice, or close enough to one, so his plans were always considered, if not acted on. But a foreman is not a warrior. Not a tactician. Those plans didn’t always bring clear victory. But they did bring him home, and on the right night, he’ll tell you about the few that worked.

All the nice helpful mice said Elric should evacuate for his safety. They found a way to hint at it whenever they spoke. But his forepaws were as fine as anyone else’s, and Corn Chip was here to make up for the rear ones. At least when he could keep focus, the silly beetle. Elric learned to fletch arrows by the bucketfull as defenders pinned the weasels to the far bank. One bucket more wouldn’t have made a difference in the end, there were too few archers to fire them.

The fall of Ferndale and the trouble at Walnutpeck; hell, the entire West, led a steady stream of mice to flee Darkheather and her advancing tunnels. Those who stopped in Shaleburrow found refuge with Poppy and Stout. They knew every available room and cot, who could be convinced to take just one more for just a little while, and at a last resort where to squeeze a new, warm burrow. Their son Hops worked with those traveling farther. More grain from their stores went into travelers’ packs than the brewing tanks. They believed their family always had room for a new member, just like Sable taught them.

Isile had been moving messages for weeks. It kept her useful, and it kept a sword out of her paws. Travel also kept her from Fulbert and his foolishness. If he loses a battle, he dies. But he won’t accept that if he wins he dies all the same. Did loyalty protect Lina? Perhaps he should ask Georges? Today’s message was yet more troop movements. Wenyld had finally rooted Olga and her Flintrust militia from their position and they were retreating East to Gilpledge. But Beatriz is heading to Gilpledge. Isile knows if this message goes through she’ll ambush them. At least half of those mice are injured. Fulbert wouldn’t consider this a worthy battle, but Beatriz might. That message never went through, but it did make for fine firestarter as Isile laid camp.

There was more need for a Nurse of the West than ever, and Ostrid only had two paws. She hoped the fading warriors had enough sense left in the end to guide their own souls above. The tunnels were too haunted already

Alton was told to watch the western horizon, which helped him ignore what the rest of The Spear did behind him. That became impossible once war broke out. He was supposed to be happy, right? This was the culmination of somebody’s plan. But when he watched Guardmice marshaling volunteers, they looked like hope for tomorrow, not converts to the cause or dupes to be discarded. And when he watched the battles fought, even the victories didn’t look like anything worth working towards. He’s still keeping his eyes open, and his mouth shut.

Mice may have used Ephraim, but he was always listening. When he lost his axe, Ephraim felt like he lost all the inspiration and power Clove was always talking about. But that was her plan. And as he made his way west he had a new plan. After all he was a wilderness scout, a tracker, and a hunter. His arm could lift the axe, but his paws were suited to other tools. Ephraim drinks free in any tavern still standing in the west, as they sing songs of the mouse who foiled a hundred surprise attacks.

The mice of Ferndale most ready to fight had gone off with the Flintrust militia and had not returned, so those left behind filled the gap. Sarah and Mel took shifts in the watchtowers. They learned to lash barriers, dress wounds, and wield spears. Perfumers and florists are usually considered the least warlike of the trades, but necessity called. When the final weasel attack came, Mel lit Ferndale’s bridges on fire, and Sarah survived to flee into the night.

Walnutpeck was abandoned in the early weeks of the war, but that changed with the coming of Spring. Whispers had gone through the tunnels and camps and settlements between trusted creatures, those who believed in a world without the cycle of war. Lily and Isile live together in the old observatory now, with a corner that is Stencil’s very own, looking after what they’ve built. With the exodus of the former weasels of Darkheather, and the new scent barrier poured well east of the settlement, their community is left to itself, unknown to those carrying the old fears. Weasel, Mouse, and other creatures beside, call all their previous traditions into question, in order to build a new society that works for them all as a unit, a new people. Today is Sable’s annual-ish visit, a privilege in exchange for helping arrange the whole thing, as Flip drops her upon her daughter’s porch. She gives Isile a basket of lemon cakes. Lily isn’t home right now, she is down on the ground in her old cloak, using the legend of Thistle, The Mouse Unstuck from Time to scare away those who would spoil their haven’s secret.

#6FU #Six Feats Under #Mouse Guard #Letters #world building

[v1r4l]

Send me ‘😏’ and Crypto will answer the following Q’s honestly about Revenant

How physically attracted they are to your muse. 

“I jilmun-eun jeongmal… I’d give him a four.” 

Spiteful as he was toward Hammond, Crypto thought they did have an eye for design. Killing machines didn’t have any business looking like literal death, but Hammond made it palatable. Broad shoulders, gravelly voice straight from the depths of hell, and a skull plate for a face. Some were into that. Crypto rather liked the idea of having a tall, menacing weapon in his pocket. 

How romantically attracted they are to your muse. 

“…I will never understand his pain, but we share the same hatred for the Syndicate. I’m not in love with Revenant, but I’m married to his plan.” 

Which was what the hacker would’ve said if he ever felt something. He would keep his feelings under wraps. No way was the sim capable of feeling things other than wrath or anguish or glee, and Crypto wasn’t about to let himself get mocked for the rest of eternity. 

And it wouldn’t be a simple crush either, even if it began innocently enough. Coming from a loveless childhood, Crypto used to fantasize what lengths someone would go to for him. Revenant would probably have no qualms killing, whether for him or for no reason at all. It would be an appreciation turned into an attachment. It grew and consumed more of him like a spreading wildfire, only tamed by the reminder of their joint mission. 

How often they would like to have sex with yours. 

“I don’t think it would be routine.” The thought of Revenant and him in the same room alone was absurd. Revenant frequently voiced his distaste for skinbags like him. Didn’t even appear to like men...

Crypto wouldn't be surprised if their relationship was sexless. This wasn't love born from heated looks or a one night stand, after all. Not to mention the maintenance required, which made sex seem more like a logistical thing that required planning than something borne out of passion. “It'll be a rare occassion.” Crypto shrugged. “Depends. I'm fine with that.”

Where they would most likely have sex with yours. 

“I don’t have enough space in my bed to fit him.” Crypto said truthfully. “He- We’ll have to find another place to go.” They could get inventive. Reach new heights with the sim's climbing abilities, so to speak. That seemed fun. 

Whether they think yours would be “good” in bed. 

“I won't be surprised if he is. He’s had centuries of practice.” 

What titles / nicknames my muse would like to call yours during sex. 

“Aegiya. Saran'ah. Longdali.”Annoyingly adoring names Crypto would use to taunt Revenant in Korean, because the hacker didn’t think he would understand any of it. “Aesaekki”, or even “Lebeoneonteu” if he was feeling particularly playful.

Up to 3 kinks they would like to explore with yours (with consent of course).

“I’ll figure something out.”

If Crypto hazarded a guess, something which involved pulling on his wires or shocking him with electricity. Hadn't he mentioned something about walking into his home-made traps and liking it? He would design a mod of his own for Revenant... or a shock collar.

And was being uncharacteristically nice a kink? He’d be indulgent and adoring and spoil him rotten with his undivided attention, even if the sim didn’t deserve it. He’d have Revenant eating out of the palm of his hand; have him give up control, the very thing that defined him. He could get off on watching someone else alone. 

What sort of sex they’d prefer to have with yours (slow & sensual, quickie, etc.). 

Privately, Crypto was a romantic. He liked taking things slow, was attentive and could marvel at every last detail if allowed. With Revenant he would be meticulous. Experimental. Just because it was his first time with the sim didn’t mean he didn’t try to find out what he liked. 

What type of relationship my muse would like to form with yours (typical couple, friends with benefits, etc.). 

“I don’t dislike him, but I'm going to thread carefully. No further comment until our partnership is over.”

i jilmun-eun jeongmal - 이 질문은 정말 (this question is really...) Aegiya - 애기야 (baby) Sarang-ah - 사랑아 (my love, informal) Longdali - 롱다리 (long legs) Aesaekki - 애새끼 (bastard) Lebeoneonteu - 레버넌트 (romanization of Revenant)

@simulamortem

#simulamortem #answered (“i always kill the messenger”) ; #nsft #hey rev... 4 is a high score

[mjvnivsbrvtvs]

don’t mind me, I’m just-----

#loosing my whole mind over some knights right now #gabriel fucks around with arthuriana #anyway the galahad thing is interesting bc a different essay called him something like an artificial character bc he doesn't inherently #come from the same place as the other nights: he sort of is...invented out of nothing #and there's a neat idea about an act of self creation here but there's an EQUALLY interesting conversation about how #galahad does not exist in the same way that these other knights do regarding injuries #is it the religious? is it the not belonging? is it the rejection of the narrative that all these other characters exist in? #it's actually how percival bors and galahad all go on an adventure together and even in THAT galahad doesn't seem to exist #in the same landscape as percival and bors. it's just percival chasing after galahad and not realizing he'll always be out of reach #anyway medieval knight narratives = queer narratives but ESPECIALLY trans narratives as i am trans and projecting like HELL

[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!!

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