#its confusing visual information when its on for minutes and minutes and even hours just blinking in front of me

[sassysnowperson]

Hey Southern California Drivers.

(sits down) (pats the couch next to me) Come on bud, you're not in trouble, I just need to talk to you for a second.

Dealing with a lot of rain, huh? It's scary! I'm scared too. The roads aren't built for this kind of rain, drainage is terrible, there's going to be flooding. And you're not used to it, and that makes it scarier.

That means you're going slower! No, that's good, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. Make sure faster drivers can pass you, you're going to add to make people angry if you're going slow in the fast lane, but I think you know that already, you did a good job today with that. You should go as fast as you feel comfortable, and it's good that it's slower than normal, since you're going to be reacting to circumstances that are new.

Now...here's the important thing...*that doesn't mean you should turn your hazard lights on*. I know, you want to be more visible, and you don't want people to ram into you from behind. But if you have your headlights on, your taillights already do a good job of that. Turning on your hazard lights and leaving them on make it harder to see a couple things. Me and other drivers have a harder time knowing that you're breaking, and it's harder to know when you're changing lanes. That makes it *more likely* that I run into you. And neither of us want that.

This is a lot, and I hope you can get off the road and safe soon. It's better to wait out the storm inside.

But please, while you're out there, don't use your hazards all the time while driving in the rain.

#i had to drive theough the grapevine and across los angeles in the worst of the storm #and at one point ever car in front of me across three lanes of traffic had their hazards on #and oh boy do I feel for you #but please don't #its confusing visual information when its on for minutes and minutes and even hours just blinking in front of me #i promise I can see you #i am in fact looking real hard at you #save the hazards for when you are parked on the side of the road or actively seeking to park/exit the road #or quickly to communicate #i love you all stay safe #now I'm home and I'm gonna make some tea and watch the rain fall

[sofoulandfairaday]

Fantastic Beasts - The Secrets of Dumbledore semi-rant

I saw this movie yesterday and I have to say I'm very disappointed. It wasn't as bad as Crimes of Grindelwald, but it wasn't good either. Already the fact that I saw it only yesterday and not in theatres should be a bad sign. There was a time when I would have gone to the ends of the earth to see a movie set in the Harry Potter universe at the cinema. This time, I tried, found out they weren't showing it that night and said "oh, alright then, I'll do something else".

Also, I'm already forgetting half of what happened. It wasn't boring, but it wasn't gripping either. I paused it twice (TWICE! A HP movie!) to do other stuff. I'm reblogging and reposting the most visually pleasing parts of the film (which is a marvel to see, but that's probably its best quality), and that's it. Usually, I'm obsessed with the movies I've just watched, I look up theories, reviews, posts, reblogs, etc. For months if they're set in the harry potter universe.

There will be spoilers ahead.

Let's start with the good things:

the beasts. they are so beautiful and well done. cgi is mostly good, the way newt interacts with the animals he cares for is, as always, one of the best parts of the movie.

jacob's lines, which are always a delight

grindelwald - probably the best thing about the whole movie. i liked johnny depp, but i loved mads mikkelsen in the role. he and jude law have incredible chemistry.

on this note, grindeldore. oh, it was so good, and FINALLY warner brothers had the balls to call them for what they were. gay men in love. of course, it's too little too late, but at least it's a win.

the fighting scenes. there were many, and all wonderfully choreographed. too bad they were confusing af. what is that double, mirror dimension of sorts? no clue, it was never explained, it was a cheap attempt at making sure that the fights hurt no muggles or wizards and i hated it. it was never explained in harry potter, i think (maybe i'm wrong, but i'm pretty sure) and while it looks great, i dislike it.

the parallel between the duel that killed ariana and when gellert tries to kill credence.

grindelwald as a seer.

the final scene.

that's basically it.

oh, everything and anything visual was great. except for maybe costumes but i'll talk about that later.

And now the bad stuff:

the writing. which is probably the worst thing ever to get wrong. the acting is good (except for eddie mumbling every single one of his lines which becomes annoying after a while), even great at times. but the writing is so bad.

i mean, jkr and steve kloves were the writers. and i know jkr has questionable views but she was never a bad writer. or better, she was never a bad novelist. i'm starting to think she sucks at screenplays.

the whole first part of the movie is useless. it's even explicitly stated inside the movie. well, that's bad writing my friends. if it was all for nothing, and no lessons/additional information that couldn't be read in a newspaper (i.e., grindelwald being allowed to run), then it's bad writing. it wasn't for the characters. it wasn't for the plot. so WHY DID YOU SHOW IT TO ME? when you could have saved time for more important things?

the movie is two hours and a half. after thirty minutes the wheels of the plot aren't even in motion. you would think that if the movie took its time it was to include meaningful dialogue and character development. but NOPE. it's for shenanigans like bunty and the trunks.

and i get their struggle, i do: fans want good duels and fighting scenes (and those are very good, especially the ones with Lalie and Gellert v. Albus). but fans also want the magical creatures. they want the beasts to have their space, and they need to show new ones. but then they also want grindeldore. alright, okay. let's show it. but what about good dialogues and high stakes? what about complex bidimensional characters? NOPE. no time for those.

this happens, of course, because there are TOO. MANY. USELESS. CHARACTERS. so many that, since they all need screen time, none of them gets explored in the right way. except maybe gellert.

nagini is gone. they don't even mention her. not even credence. not even when he talks with queenie, who can READ MINDS, so there was the perfect excuse to bring her up even if credence doesn't want to.

queenie is useless. i still don't understand why she joined grindelwald since she knows he hates muggles. while in his service she does NOTHING. she's not a double agent, she's not useful to either grindelwald or dumbledore. she's just there. of course i know they did this because they had to wrap things up in the end since there probably won't be a fourth movie, but couldn't they do it a little better?

maybe give her yusuf's screen time. since he's the worst character in terms of how he's written and he has no weight on the plot whatsoever. he doesn't have a mission, only has two scenes, isn't useful for the whole luggage subplot ... why is he even in this movie?

but at least, AT LEAST, they show him grieving for his sister (even though he just accepts to have his memories of her erased?? why was this done?? to show that gellert is bad? i mean, i think it's pretty obvious from the scene where he kills bambi...)

THESEUS you dick. why is he so happy? why is he not incoherent with grief? why does he not seethe with rage at the thought of leta, who he was going to marry? and not in the "ohi, you're under arrest "way. nono, in the blowing avada kedavras at vinda and grindelwald like a madman way. why doesn't he look sad and sombre?

they killed my leta FOR WHAT exactly? she was hands down the most complex character aside from grindeldore (which coincidentally are the only two whose story is actually told in the original saga). and maybe the single best performance on screen in all three movies. i don't get it. i hate it when female characters are killed off just to give male characters an origin story, but at least it gives them purpose. leta died just because. her death adds nothing to the story.

her replacement is lalie. now, i know that in this day and age god forbid you have a cast that is too white (you know, made up of witches and wizards from 1930 britain) and you need the token diversity character. it's irritating, but i get why they do it. i can forgive it. what i cannot forgive is how useless to the plot she is.

she was probably my favourite character of the whole movie, i enjoyed her sassiness and the way she used magic, but she is so. useless. why is she, or theseus, or yusuf, or jacob even, required for this mission? don't they all have jobs?? dumbledore needs to find a substitute teacher for his classes, porpentina is busy with work (AND SHE HAS THE SAME JOB TITLE AS THESEUS) so why are they all strolling about? i get newt and bounty, and maybe jacob since his bakery is in ruins, but what about the others?

more than that, what compels them to fight grindelwald? "Oh, it's the right thing to do!" NO YOU FOOLS, that's not enough. It's not compelling, it's BORING. especially when some of them have good reasons, in theory. theseus (and yusuf) lost leta. jacob lost queenie.

no idea why an american schoolteacher feels so touched by a german despot, but okay. i guess. she's nice but so bi-dimensional.

why do they need these people in particular? give me an "ocean's eleven" type of segment where you explain why these people and not 5 trained aurors.

dumbledore needs to send his own men because the ministry takes no stance like fudge did years later? because grindelwald has supporters in the british ministry that don't want this to happen? give me a scene where vinda goes to talk with her british cousins and gets them to support gellert and we see baby druella every reason is fine but there must be one.

the minerva mcgonagal cameo is useless. also, they didn't retcon what is clearly a mistake so... i hate it :)

vinda rosier gets 5 lines and no characterization whatsoever apart from being "pretty and evil". if she was less striking we probably wouldn't care about her as much. this woman has no motivations of her own, apparently. we don't even know what her relationship with grindelwald actually is.

and do not get me started on the other useless henchmen.

why do they force jacob to come along? why do they insist on putting a muggle in danger? albus is no seer but COME ON. we already saw grindelwald use people as scapegoats in the last movie, and it's clear he would do the same with jacob. "oh but he's a good man with courage" WHO CARES? are there no good men in 1930 england? where are all the brave gryffindors ffs?

it does NOT work. you know what would? JACOB wanting to go. JACOB demanding to go, because he hasn't given up on queenie and he wants to "save" her.

was it to confuse grindelwald? it doesn't work, because there isn't one (1) scene where he looks shocked, or even perplexed at the sight of a muggle with a wand.

and what about the whole thing with the tie? how could dumbledore know that theseus was going to get captured? even if he could predict that, you seriously want me to believe he was basing his rescue plan off the niffler??

also, we never see newt activate the portkey in that moment and that is not how portkeys work.

the whole subplot with bunty and the luggage was stupid. we know that there's a spell that literally duplicates objects by creating perfect copies, so it's a useless waste of time. also, why doesn't she use the switch that sets it to "muggle mode"? we've seen newt do it before.

the two candidates for supreme mugwump are absolutely the same. they have no personality and are just namesakes.

the german minister of magic contradicts himself more than once in the film. i watched his scenes twice and i still don't understand his motives. there must be a cut scene or something because one minute he implies that he doesn't like grindelwald and the next he's chilling with him and his men. he openly says that he thinks GG will lose just as he sees him arriving by means of crowd-surfing. it's not like he turns a blind eye and that is why gellert wins. no, the man actively enables him and helps him. WHY?! have vinda or even yusuf put him under the imperius curse ffs!

how do credence and aberforth have communicating mirrors? no idea. it's never explained.

why is the phoenix dying because credence is dying? phoenixes have their own independent cycle of life and rebirth. we see this with fawkes. otherwise, why isn't fawkes dying when dumbledore is in book 6? it's never explained.

This all comes down to the main problem of the movie: this movie has no dialogues. seriously, all they do is duel and say vague things like "the plan is no plan". fuck off. they don't even state clearly why the plan is no plan, they say vague stuff, the characters acknowledge it's confusing and then they laugh about it.

SPOILER: even if you acknowledge your mistakes in the story itself ("oh, we don't know what to do against grindelwald" or "oh, we're back where we started ahaha") it DOESN'T MAKE IT GOOD. actually, it makes it worse. it's just lazy writing.

Nothing is explained to the audience because the movie uses "show not tell" to the extreme. fine, don't tell, but please at least give a name to what we're seeing. good stories are character-driven. this one is not.

seriously, none of them has one good dialogue, that isn't full of clichés.

finally, one last thing that really bothered me. why why why are they all dressed like muggles? the costumes look amazing - my personal favourite was eulalie's gold evening gown - but WHY are they all dressed like muggles? yes, there is a little outfit change for eulalie when she goes to pick up jacob that maybe should underline the differences between wizard and muggle clothing - there are none.

albus dumbledore and gellert grindelwald should all be donning the most campy over-the-top wizard robes. why would grindelwald ever be dressed like a muggle? it doesn't make sense, especially since albus is described more than once as being ignorant of muggle clothing rules. alright, he's younger here, but how is it that he and gellert don't look even a little out of place at the beginning of the movie?

don't get me wrong, i think the costumes are absolutely beautiful and i would kill to have them in any other film BUT THIS ONE. because they don't fit the characters at all. all of these wizards dressed like muggles, i don't get it.

the worst offender of all, imo is pureblood dark witch vinda rosier who dresses in a suit to a fancy wizard party. her outfit is amazing and high fashion and exactly my style... i adore it. i, a muggle, would definitely wear it. the question is- why would she?

This is what I strive to look like at social gatherings. I want this to be me and my future husband. I just don't think it's the right look for them.

#fantastic beasts: the secrets of dumbledore #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #gellert x albus #newt scamander #theseus scamander #vinda rosier #tina goldstein #queenie goldstein #jacob kowalski #leta lestrange #credence barebone #eulalie hicks #yusuf kama #aberforth dumbledore #ariana dumbledore #hogwarts #harry potter #the secrets of dumbledore #a rant #there's probably more but i'm tired now.

[canmom]

Animation Night 153: Kara no Kyōkai, part 1

We are entering... a slightly tricky phase of Animation Night. It’s not that we’re out of great animated films, far from it. Hell, we’ve yet to screen such classics as The End of Evangelion or Adolescence of Utena. But that’s the puzzle: a lot of such films are awkward fits for the format, requiring a lot of context, or standing too short or too long to fill the format.

Nor are we short of beautiful, artistic films from Europe. AniObsessive recently did a column on The Swallows of Kabul, which might finally be an answer the question of ‘what the hell could go beside Funan’. But I think we’ve had a bit too much war and genocide on this blog lately, so we’ll save that for another day.

Instead, let’s keep it chuuni!

It’s been a long while since Animation Night had anything to do with the Nasuverse. Back on Animation Night 60, I wrote a fairly brief description of Fate, and we enjoyed the spectacular Heaven’s Feel movies with only mild confusion.

But this was far from the only time that studio Ufotable adapted the the works of the enigmatic king of chuunibyou, Kinoko Nasu.

Let’s set the scene to begin. I’ll try and go over what I’ve been able to find out about the history, bearing in mind that Nasu-san is insanely prolific and his meta-setting is a seemingly infinite rabbit hole of lore...

...but as far as the man* himself there’s only the barest information to go on about his earlier life. He went to Hosei University, and afterwards started creating novels with his high-school buddy Takashi Takeuchi. Their first project was 空の境界 Kara no Kyōkai, lit. The Boundary of Emptiness but titled in English The Garden of Sinners in 1998 - that’s our subject for tonight, so more on that in a minute!

(*Wikipedia offers a citation for ‘man’ to a 2004 blog post where he jokes about being called a girl in a newspaper, in which he remarks もともと女々しいのがワタクシの芸風ですものボンソワー。[My style’s always been feminine, bonsoir.]; no further comment on that.) 

In 2000 the pair founded a dōjin circle called TYPE-MOON to publish the visual novel 月姫 Tsukihime (lit. Moon Princess), which was a mega-hit when it launched at Comiket, and from that went on to create another visual novel called Fate/Stay Night, which was an even bigger mega-hit. This led to a forest of spinoffs with increasingly baroque titles like ‘Fate/hollow ataraxia’ or ‘Fate/kaleid liner Prisma Illya’, the most successful being the gacha game Fate/Grand Order, which launched in 2015. That gacha game has in turn spawned many many adaptations of its various storylines, such as (deep breath) Fate/Grand Order - Absolute Demonic Front: Babylonia or Fate/Grand Order: Final Singularity - Grand Temple of Time: Solomon. Really rivaling Kingdom Hearts there. Some of these films have been described as creative and ambitious, others very staid and playing it safe, but to be honest I am a foreigner in this land and I can’t tell you too much about them.

Anyway, as far as biographical details go, perhaps there’s more buried in an interview somewhere? But if so, I’ve yet to find it.

Our subject for tonight is a seven movie series produced by Ufotable from 2007-9, adapting Nasu’s first work. You might say, Bryn, that’s nuts, seven entire movies! To clarify, these movies are for the most really short, each just about an hour long with a couple of exceptions. So we should be able to pretty comfortably view the whole thing over two Animation Nights.

So what’s it about?

Set when it was written in the late 90s, it follows a teenage girl demon hunter called Shiki Ryougi, who has ‘Mystic Eyes of Death Perception’, which let her see indications of how things will die. She becomes a detective specialising in supernatural cases, alongside her eventual husband, Mikiya Kokutou. So romance and supernatural battles.

Many of these ideas, particularly the death perceiving eyes, would be reprised in Tsukihime. Within the meta-narrative, Kara no Kyōkai is an alternate universe, but not one completely disconnected from the rest, with its characters showing up for minor roles - and even playing a role in the end of Heaven’s Feel.

Except, that’s selling it short, because it’s also the first outing for the more esoteric concepts of the Nasu’s works: the Akashic Record, the Jungian anima and animus, and the paradoxes of the Taiji in Chinese philosophy to name a few. And to ground that, all sorts of dark shit: Wikipedia reels of suicide, rape, patricide, incest and murder, along with DID. It sounds like a lot!

Of course, it’s also about ridiculous psychic powers with long names, magic eyes, and so on. It’s easy to mock all these chuuni elements as hollow and pretentious, but imo the resulting blend is to strike out somewhere fascinatingly weird and achieve effects that a more reserved work couldn’t. We’ll see whether that comes together here!

In discussing the film series, Nasu described the original work - which he came to view as a rough early work - as ‘like a prose poem’, inherently very difficult to adapt. He turned down proposals to adapt it as a TV series and a movie, imagining it would be too hard for audiences to follow. But when a seven-movie series by Ufotable was proposed, he changed his mind:

It was such an off-the-wall idea that I got caught up in the enthusiasm; the offer was so awesome that turning it down seemed rude, so I agreed readily.

So, that’s one of the two characters in our story. What of the other?

Ufotable would later make ‘adapting Fate works’ into a steady line of work alongside popular shōnen like Demon Slayer. But at this time, they were a much more experimental studio. At sakugablog, kVin writes...

[Aniplex producer Atsuhiro] Iwakami had been ruminating about how to put together an adaptation for Kara no Kyoukai that actually lived up to the potential he saw in Kinoko Nasu’s world since 2004, and by the following year, the solution to his woes manifested in front of his eyes. Futakoi Alternative was an eccentric reboot of a milquetoast, twins-themed harem series. It reimagined everything about the original series into a simply indescribable mix of genres and crazy scenarios. The motto of ufotable’s founder Hikaru Kondo resonates throughout the whole series: if making as many things as possible is the way to ensure you’ll get some of them right, why not jump around from noir cinema, to sci-fi epics, then back to face some humanoid squids before some surprisingly earnest romance? For viewers like Iwakami, this irreverent spirit was a wake-up call about new ways to create animation. So, why not approach them when he was planning something grand that wasn’t quite like anything seen before in anime?

In fact, Iwakami’s original idea was merely a trilogy; it was Ufotable founder Hikaru Kondo who was like nah man let’s do seven. Within the studio were type-moon fans such as director Takuya Nonaka and character designer Tomonori Sudo, whose passion inspired Kondo to go big. Recklessly big. The initial plan was to release a new film monthly, but this soon proved predictably impossible. Even so, they managed to complete the series within two years, which is pretty astonishing in its own right.

As you can see from the clips in this post, the visual style of these movies anticipates - if perhaps in a cruder form - the studio’s later Fate adaptations: chiaroscuro lighting and gradients and filters on top of gradients and filters. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but as far as a house style goes, it’s worth acknowledging.

Internally, its direction was shaped by the flatter-than-usual hierarchy of Ufotable (whose name refers to a round table in the Arthurian sense). Each movie was assigned a different director without a structure unify the production as a whole beyond adherence to Nasu’s work.

I’ll pull in kVin to describe the resulting vibe of the project:

At its core, Kara no Kyoukai is a pretty cute love story that asks itself whether it’s possible to stray away from your fate; to put it plainly, Kokutou claims that he can fix her, even if the fixing involves getting over a pesky character flaw such as a predisposition towards murder. While not a groundbreaking scenario, its commitment to that relationship in spite of all the extraneous elements makes it work, and Shiki in particular is a slaughterer with very charming body language that evolves according to the major shifts to her character.

At the same time, these films are also highly atmospheric and committed to the sensorial experience in a way that no other Type-Moon anime is. While the expository worldbuilding and dense dialogue that Nasuverse works are known for are still very much present, the Kara no Kyoukai films are also willing to stay silent for minutes at a time. The mystery aspect to these films—Shiki and Kokutou work for Aozaki Touko’s detective agency after all—is honored with an appreciation for the mystique; even if you know that long-winded answers are likely to come, they tend to relish the opportunity to soak the viewer in the grim, mysterious atmosphere of its world. There is a quiet appreciation of the things that are yet to be known, and those that may not be spelled out.

At the time, he writes, the staff were intimidated by the idea of theatrical animation, which in the 90s called to mind Patlabor and Satoshi Kon - a tough act to follow, no question. But the dense image boards of art director Nobutaka Ike, who worked on those very same films, brought the confidence needed.

The films follow the same release order as the original novels, which is narratively non-chronological.

Nasu, for his part (link again), was anxious about his early works being adapted...

In Kara no Kyoukai, the first story, "Overlooking View" (俯瞰風景) is the clumsiest. I've always thought I wanted to do something about it, and I told a staff member, "If we're making this into a movie, I'm going to rewrite the first story; please let me do that." But he said, enthusiastically, "No, I want to work with it the way it is. I want to animate this!"

Then, when I read the finished script, they'd cut out over half of the unnecessary excess fat and had turned out something more interesting as a story, so I thought, "If it's like this, they don't need me to rewrite it."

In Nasu’s view, each film ought to stand alone, but the full picture can’t really be understood from just the first - but he claims that with all seven films, the viewer would have enough to understand the story without having to turn to the books. Which is lucky, because the only version of the books in English is a widely disparaged fan translation.

To support all this comes haunting music by composer Yuki Kajiura and her group Kalafina, who would later create the renowned soundtrack to Madoka. In fact these movies are the origin of Kalafina, with Kajiura putting together a new group with a couple of members of her previous project FictionJunction.

Anyway, please read the rest of kVin’s article (perhaps after the movies! x3) if you fancy a detailed retrospective on all seven films.

Tonight my plan is to screen the first four parts of The Garden of Sinners, namely...

I: Overlooking View - an introduction to the series. In 1998, Shiki lives alone in her apartment, occasionally visited by Mikiya, and working for an occult detective agency. She learns of a series of strange suicides at an abandoned building. Investigating, she finds the building is full of hostile ghosts. Someone is drawing the girls to the building by astral projection...

II: A Study in Murder - Part 1 - in 1995, Shiki and Mikiya are highschool students. A spree of brutal murders break out in the area. Mikiya discovers that Shiki (式) is plural, with a male alter called SHIKI (織) who is the inverse of her personality. But who’s doing the murders?

III: Remaining Sense of Pain - A teenage girl called Fujino is raped by a group of gangsters, and pursues revenge with her psychic powers. Shiki and Mikiya are pulled in to the case, and realise that Shiki once knew Fujino - a girl who could not feel pain. But that seems to have changed...

IV: Hollow Shrine - a direct sequel to the second film. Shiki ended up comatose, and now in the psychic void, confronts her alter. We learn about her backstory and how she got involved with the wizard detectives.

I think these summaries should convey the level of Content(TM) we’re dealing with here. Guards up!

Next time around, we’ll pick up with Paradox Spiral, Oblivion Recording, and then at last A Study in Murder - Part 2. Which will actually be longer, because PS and ASiM2 are two hours long. (There’s also an eighth movie, released in 2013, titled Future Gospel which is a new sequel written by Nasu for movie form.)

I think that will suffice for an introduction. Animation Night will be going live 7:30 UK time, about 40 minutes from this post, and at 8pm UK time we shall begin the movies! Join me at https://www.twitch.tv/canmom~

#animation night

[baekhvuns]

Ikr 😭 but the social presence thing is so right, i remember I got swayed by my frnds around 8th and 9th grade to install these apps and i did but then corona happened and I got enlightened!

Yes, the moodboard did and honestly i had never read a good fic before, well technically I had never read even simple fic bfr so when I saw tht divorce mention...i was like sign me up for the trauma! No imagine my first fic was lnfila...i was already prepared for so much. Actually I'm glad tht was my first fic.

Omg yes, well as far as ik, YK how people take out a divine and perfect time to tie the rakhi right? So this year there was a lot of confusion bcz it was informed tht the auspicious time was from 9:30PM of 30 aug to 9:30AM 31 Aug. So typically the much religious people followed this schedule but the other ones just celebrated the festival normally. Even today many people celebrated it so yeah it was fun honestly! I mean I'm all for the food and money sooo-

Man imagining his reactions PLSS ✋😭 he would be so creeped out first of all!!

OMAHGAH NO U DIDN'T JUST PUT JANAM JANAM IN D&TG BESTIEEE

Idk if its just my obsession with the song but mai agr kahun from om Shanti Om 😩 liek the violins and all. Ofc!!! Just frnds would be incomplete if we didn't put fashion movie songs in it bcz i can imagine all the runway scenes and 'jalwa' playing as a backtrack 🤌🤌omg i had almost forgotten abt tht song WOOAHOOOOHHOHHHH man kk rlly gv the bollywood industry some amazing songs.

LMAO DIVORCE?!?! 😭 Yeah ok i side with rabta, i cn totally hear it at the start when hwa declares the divorce. ....khronus and veer Zara....they fit together 🤧🤧 (my tears play a big role in it) YESS BG AND TERI MERI THE SEPERATION PART 😭😭BRO U JUST READ MY MIND BCZ IK DAMN WELL TUM SE HI WOULD GO SOO WELL WITH BG LIKE THT RAIN SCENE ✨

Hawayein and rewrite the stars, how come i didn't think of that? Bcz come on the lyrics THEY LYRICS!! Ofc i remember patiala house how cn i forget it just like tht, 😭 it was my childhood!! And the way I fell for Akshay in tht idkw but I did, bcz he always plays tht macho role, so when he did tht soft boy role i just melted.

Now tht i think abt it apart frm the mainstream actors in Bollywood there are so many underrated visuals, and i personally stand with reitesh deshmukh!! Like he's just so ....idk but he just is!

I was re reading the trouble with hating you AND WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY TO ME RN?? 😭 like idk it just got funnier! And hwa is so random here Literally! Bcz who the fuck brings their ENTIRE dinner set for he library 😭😭 i laughed at this for straight 1 minute LIEK THE VISUAL!! I JST CAN'T- or when he said "so dolphins are like the dogs of the ocean??" WHAT DOES THT EVEN MEAN??? 😭😭😭 MY MAN HERE IS THINKING WAY TOO DEEP ABT THE OCEAN WHEN HE HAS AN EXAM TO STUDY FOR if I was there i would've died laughing!

im glad that u liked the fic and that being ur first fic fbsnbdkw 😭😭😭 my inbox was bursting the day of that release fbanjfksjckc

YEAAAAAH that time of hour like my mom was all panicky trying to tell everyone not to tie them in the morning 😭😭 some kali thing was happening fbwkfjsk UR RIGHT THE MONEY AND THE FOOD IS ALL THAT MATTERED every brown man on that day was my brother 🤚🏻

LMFAOOOO JANAM JANAM BEING ALL THE LIFES THEY GET REINCARNATED AS HEHE PLS NOT THE ATZ SLANDER WNBDMS

no ur right i was gonna put dastaan as the khronus one bc it’s slightly haunting!! RIGHT I COULD NOT NOT PUT JALWA IN THEIR SCREAMING THATS THE BEST ONE kk’s oooohoOoOoO >>>>>> what a voice honestly

NO HEAR ME OUT IN RAABTA WHEN THEY SAY “it’s said that god has made someone for someone” THAT WAS MY INTENTION W IT BEING IN DIVORCE THKWHDKW

khronus and veer zaara r cousins ackshully TUM SE HI SUPREMACY >>>>> !!!! HONESTLY IT FITS THAT FIC LIKE A GLOVE AND THE VOICE 😭😭😭

no omf bc that movie’s beginning made me cry a lil fhwmdbsn I ALSO RLY LIKED THAT ONE he’s always played some comedian or macho guy but this one i was pitying his character the entire time 😭😭 O GET IT I GET IT W RITESH but his wife???

LMFAOOOO TROUBLE W HATING U HAD THE BEST DIALOGUE IN MY OPINON??? like that one part “u don’t talk much,” “do u want me to moan?” that fic is so funny to me gbmebdkd THE ENTIRE DINNER SET LMFAOOOO THIS IS BASED ON SOMETHING VERY IRL FHWJDHKS HE’S STUDYING FOR THE WRONG EXAM 😭😭😭

NO SRS VISUALIZE IT,, A WHOLE DINNER SET, IN A LIBRARY, ALL THE PLATES SET AND ALL AND HE HAS A CLOTH ON HIS COLLAR FOOD IS STEAMING HOT AND HES TALKING ABT DOLPHINS 😭😭

#✉️ : ask #[ rosesapphiremysticalrose ]

[chocosvt]

love café

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t believe he was here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To a degree, you were correct.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except, you needed access to a computer.

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

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

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

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

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

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

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tired. Aching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

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

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

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

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

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

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

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not a big deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah.”

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

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

“The Shower what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twelve am.

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

However, tonight was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

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

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

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

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

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[  9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than  fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was  able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout  sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,”  you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader

[hangovercurse]

Thesis

After a bad day, Colson comes over to take care of you, only to find out about a secret you’ve been keeping from him.

Request: “I was wondering if you could do a Kells fic where he's dating the reader and finds out she is c*tting, and helps her. Its total ok if you aren't comfortable writing this though 🖤”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: discussion and depictions of self-harm, cursing, angst

A/N: Gonna get really serious with this one: If you are struggling with self-harm (in all forms, not just those discussed in this text) or issues with your mental health, please reach out to someone! Family, friends, anyone. I know it’s hard and you may feel like no one cares, but I promise someone does. If you don’t feel comfortable telling someone you know, message me. My page is a safe space and I will never judge you. I promise you, the world is a much better place with you in it and you deserve to take up space, you deserve to be happy.  

On that note, do not read this if you feel it may be triggering to you, please.

Word Count: 2457

 You sighed as you read the email subject Re: Y/L/N Final Thesis Revised 2. Every time your doctoral advisor sent you an email in response to any work on your thesis, it wasn’t good.

Ms. Y/L/N,

I regret to inform you that the corrections that you have made are still not adequate enough for submission to the board. Please read my notes attached for further work to be done.

You didn’t even bother reading the rest of the email, instead choosing to slam your head down against your wooden desk. “Fuck!” You yelled to your empty house.

You had rewritten your doctoral thesis 4 times already and submitted for approval twice, both of which were rejected. Your advisor was trying to be patient with you, but you could tell his tolerance was running low. “What am I doing wrong?” You whispered to yourself, closing your eyes as you let your head rest against the wood.

Maybe you’re just not smart enough. That unhelpful voice in your mind chimed in, making you groan. Seriously though, if you were smarter, then you would have been approved already.

Your chest started tightening and you felt nauseous, tears coming to your eyes. You reached around for your phone, hearing Colson’s voice in your mind. “If you have a bad day, text me. You can always talk to me.”

Hey

You texted him, hoping he would respond soon. Your breathing was getting heavier and you just wanted to talk to someone that wasn’t the voice in your head.

Hey, I’m in the studio rn, everything ok?

My thesis got rejected

Again :(

I’m sorry babe

Wanna see you

Colson didn’t answer for a few moments, and you had a feeling he was letting out a frustrated sigh. You hated bothering him at work, it always made you feel like a nuisance to him.

I can’t leave right now

:(

You’ll be okay

It’s just a paper

Now it was your turn to let out a sigh. Colson didn’t exactly understand why this was so important to you. Every time you got upset after it didn’t turn out well, he told you the same thing, “It’s just a paper, you can just rewrite it.”

But it’s not just a paper. It’s currently the only thing standing between you and a doctorate degree. And you’ve rewritten it four times before.

He’s just sick of you whining about it.

You annoy him

He doesn’t care about you

You got up from your desk and made your way to the bathroom, not sure if you were going to throw up or do something worse. The voice kept speaking, her incessant words running through your head.

You know what’ll make you feel better.

And you did. You had been trying to stop, and you were doing pretty good until a few weeks ago. Up until that point it was rare, a few times a month. Now it was 4 times a week; more days than not.

You reached under your bathroom counter, pulling out the small, inconspicuous makeup bag. You brought it over and set it on the edge of the bathtub, sitting on the floor next to it.

The zipper felt familiar under your fingers as you pulled it, the metal coming into view. Your secret stash of hellish paradise.

You pulled one of the razers out, feeling the coolness on your skin. Pulling up the sleeve of your sweater, you placed the sharp edge against the fragile skin on your wrist. You took a deep breath as you slid it across the skin, not even wincing at the pain. The blood rolling out of the wound was beautiful to you, a therapy in itself. You laid the arm over the bathtub, taking another slice at your wrist.

You had to be careful not to go too close to the hand or else the sweaters you wore could ride up and expose you, and you couldn’t make too many cuts or someone would be bound to notice.

Once you had made 4 slits in your skin, you stopped. The razor fell to the edge of the bathtub as you watched the blood drip down your arm, gravity pulling it towards your hand to pool in your palm. As fucked up as it was, you liked the view. The pain barely registered to you anymore.

It felt like all the fears were draining from your body with the blood. You knew it would all come back eventually, but in this moment, you felt peace. Your stomach stopped turning and your chest loosened. And for just a little while, the voices in your head were gone.

You laid there for probably 30 minutes, the peaceful silence engulfing you. Eventually you came back to your senses, realizing the mess you had made. You sighed, standing up and turning the faucet on. You watched the blood that sat in the tub wash away before running your arm under the water. It stung a bit, but the blood disappeared from your arm, leaving you with the visual of 4 dark red cuts.

Once the tub was clean, you moved to the cabinets under the sink again, this time grabbing a package of band-aids and covering the marks that were bleeding slightly after the water pressure opened them up again. You ran the blade under water from the sink to clean it before throwing it back in the bag and hiding it. Satisfied that all evidence of your sins was gone, you pulled down the sleeves of your sweater and made your way to your couch to watch a true crime documentary.

A little over a half hour later Colson texted you.

Picking up your favorite food :)

Be over in 10

You smiled at your phone for a second before guilt crept into your mind. How could you think that he doesn’t care about you? He’s never done anything but love you.

You are the world’s worst girlfriend.

You bit your lip, trying to make the thoughts go away. You didn’t want to be upset when Colson got there, it would spoil his whole night.

It didn’t quite work, but you were able to put on a fake smile when he got to your door. He set the bags of food on your coffee table before flopping on top of you on the couch. His face buried into your neck, pressing soft kisses onto the skin all over. He did this whenever he knew you were sad, it made you laugh.

He sat up, looking down on you, “how’s my girl doing?” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Better now that you’re here.” You mumbled, throwing your clothed arms around his middle and pulling him back against you. He chuckled and flipped you around so his back was against the couch and you were resting on his chest.

You smiled at him, you don’t deserve him, the voice screamed. You ignored it, burying your head into his shirt, the smell of him filling your nose. “What’re we watching?”

Your voice was muffled by the fabric, “The Vanishing of Elisa Lam.”

He looked up, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “of course we are.”

“We can watch something else.” You mumbled. Colson chuckled and sat up, pulling you with him to rest in his lap, your back against his chest.

His long arm reached to grab the food off the table, setting one box in your hands. “Your weird true crime show is fine, babe. You choose tonight.” He kissed your cheek, making you smile and sink further into his chest.

A little while passed and you had both finished your food, placing the empty boxes on the table. Colson’s arms were around your waist and you moved to hold his hands. You had tried wrapped your palm over the back of his hand, but he flipped his hand so his palm encased yours. As the documentary played, he began to rub circles into your skin subconsciously, moving down your wrist slowly.

In his arms you momentarily forgot about your session in the bathroom from earlier, but when his thumb brushed against the bandage on your arm you were shocked back into reality. “What’s that?” He mumbled, chin resting on your shoulder and looking down to the shirt sleeve.

“Nothing, I cut myself doing dishes earlier.” You lied, it being second nature at this point.

Colson’s hand moved to the edge of your sleeve, moving to roll it up. “You’re so clumsy sometimes.”

You yanked your arm out of his hand as you felt the fabric moving up, “what are you doing?” You asked, holding your arm closer to yourself subconsciously.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I was gonna kiss it better.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to.” You sighed, turning your attention back to the TV. He didn’t like that answer and based off of your reaction, he could tell something was up.

He reached to hold your arm again, and you relaxed into his touch, thinking he would just hold your hand. Instead, he dragged your sleeve up your arm, exposing four band-aids on your wrist and older, exposed scars.

“Colson!” You yelled, standing up and wiggling out of his grasp.

He had a shocked expression on his face that slowly turned into a mixture of concern and hurt. He tried to form words but was struggling. Finally, he got out a whispered “why?”

You bit your tongue, arms wrapped around your body as you faced away from him. Your breathing got heavy and you could feel tears coming to your eyes. He’s definitely gonna leave you now.

When you didn’t respond he stood up slowly, walking towards you and wrapping his arms around you. His lips met the top of your head briefly before replacing them with his chin.

The feeling of his embrace was enough to send your walls crashing down, tears finally falling down your face. You shook in his arms, your knees buckling under you. He whispered as he held you up, “hey hey hey hey, I’m here, baby. I’m right here. You can talk to me.” He led you back to the couch, pulling you back into his lap. You turned towards him and buried your face into his chest. His arms wrapped around you tighter than they ever had before.

Your sniffles filled the room, followed by your quiet “I’m sorry.”

Colson shook his head, taking your face in his hand and moving it away from his skin so you were forced to look at him. “You don’t have to be sorry.” You nodded and he slowly wiped the tears from under your eyes. The soft motion made you calm down ever so slightly. After a few minutes of being held, your sobs stopped, tears not falling as hard. “Can we talk about this.”

You sniffled but nodded your head, your eyes not meeting his. “I’m not gonna be upset with you, or angry. I just need you to be honest with me, okay?” He asked, his blue eyes searching your face. You simply nodded again, turning your head all the way down so your nose was parallel to the floor. The top of your head pressed against Colson’s chest.

“How long?” His voice was a whisper, but it held an infinity of emotion.

You mumbled out a response, “a while.” You could feel how fast his heart was beating, “Before I met you. It’s just gotten a lot worse lately.”

He nodded, sucking his lips in. “Why didn’t you talk to me? You know you can always talk to me, darling.”

New tears fell from your eyes. “I tried to.” You whispered, feeling guilty. His hand moved to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear.

He took a few moments to remember what you were talking about before he sighed. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you were so upset. I didn’t know.” He whispered, “But I know now, so from now on you gotta tell me if you feel like doing this to yourself.”

You nodded against him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that. Don’t be sorry, why are you sorry?” He asked

You shrugged, “sorry you have to deal with me.”

He grabbed your face again, this time forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Don’t ever say that again. Okay? I fucking love you. You’re going through some shit right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop loving you. I don’t want you to ever think that.” As he spoke his harsh tone got softer, quieter.

“I just don’t feel like I’m good enough, for anything.” You slumped into him, your head laying on his shoulder.

His arms pulled you further into him, “Y/N, you are the smartest, most amazing, most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You’re literally about to become a doctor! That’s fucking incredible. I am so proud of you.”

“’m not really gonna be a doctor.” You mumbled, “I can’t get this fucking thesis approved.”

He sighed into your hair, “You are going to get through this. You have worked your ass off to get here, I know you’re not gonna let a stupid paper get in your way.” He pressed a kiss into your hair and you looked up to him, a pout still on your face. “Baby you aren’t just good enough, you’re better. I know it feels shitty right now but you’re gonna get through this. And I’m gonna be right here with you.”

He leaned down and pressed a deep kiss to your lips. It took a second, but you kissed him back. “Thank you.” You whispered when you pulled away, reaching up to wipe your tears away with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“I love you.” He whispered, “do you think we could throw your blades away?” He asked softly.

“I might need your help.” You whispered. He nodded, lifting you off his lap and standing up. He grabbed your hand and you led him to your bathroom. You found the bag and handed it to him. “I can’t…” You whispered, trying to stop the tears you felt behind your eyes.

Colson nodded, taking it from you and opening it, frowning at the metal inside. “I don’t want to throw them away here, because you could get them out of the trash later. So, I’m gonna take them back to my house tomorrow and I’ll throw them out there.”

You nodded, hand squeezing his. You moved closer to him, resting your free hand on his shoulder, and pressing your cheek against his chest. “I love you.”

He smiled down at you, wrapping his arm around you, “I love you too.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #colson imagine

[qitwrites]

⬅ Previous || 10 || Next ➡

Some people like to keep up with sports, others love reality TV with a passion, some people voraciously consume anime, and some don’t care much for television.

Kouda is a nature documentary fanatic. The Discovery channel and National Geographic is his shit, his domain, his absolute favorite. He follows plenty of nature related content on YouTube as well, and all the accounts he follows on social media are nature and animal oriented.

He cried so hard the day Steve Irwin died.

The thing is, he’s never met anyone that likes it as much as he does, and that’s honestly ok. He talks to animals and understands them and others don’t, or rather, can’t. They don’t know how sassy pigeons are, how much fish shit-talk amongst themselves, how bugs are actually really smart, or how dogs truly are too good for humans. They don’t know animals and nature the way he does, so he doesn’t mind being alone in this.

He’s used to watching documentaries alone, so when the common room is blissfully empty one weekend afternoon, Kouda pulls up a penguin documentary on Netflix and gets comfortable on the green couch. The documentary is super informative, and the visuals are stunning, especially on the big flat screen with it’s 4k HD resolution. There’s also a side story about a gay penguin couple that he thinks is really cute.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out to find a message from Satou.

>> What’s up?

                    I’m watching the penguin documentary in the common room! << 

>> Oh sweet! I’ll be there in a sec

Kouda smiles at his phone and goes back to the documentary. He likes Satou, likes being friends with a guy that always smells like a bakery and doesn’t force him to talk or prod about his shyness. They often hang out in each other’s rooms, and it’s always super comfortable.

Satou is down 10 minutes later, a tray of fresh cookies in hand. Kouda offers him a wide smile when he plops into the seat next to him, and they watch the documentary in silence, munching on cookies.

A few minutes later, Kaminari happens to walk by. When he spies the cookies, his face breaks into a wide smile.

‘Satou, can I have one?’

Satou doesn’t even look away from the screen, simply picks up the plate and holds it in the relative direction of the voice. Kaminari grabs a cookie and bites into it, making an appreciative sound.

‘So good,’ he mumbles. He peers up at the screen. ‘What are you guys watching?’

‘Penguin documentary.’

‘Huh.’ Kouda distantly waits to hear the sound of Kaminari’s footsteps as he walks away, but to his surprise, the man takes one of the recliners next to the couch and gets comfy.

Kouda shrugs to himself and goes back to the documentary. When they start doing the migration bit, he gets really into it, and when the segment is over, and none of the penguins have strayed from the pack and died tragically, he releases a breath of relief, and startles when he hears several others.

When he looks around, he finds Tokoyami in the seat next to him. Sero is sitting by Kaminari’s feet, leaning into the blonde’s legs. Uraraka has taken another recliner next to them, and Aoyama is on the other long couch. He hadn’t even realized they were here.

There’s still an hour left on the documentary when Satou gets up and stretches. ‘I’m going to get some snacks, you guys want anything?’

Shouts of just some juice please and more cookies if you’ve got them and chips all the way bro are thrown around, and Kouda just watches everything happen. Satou looks over at him and grins.

‘And you?’

Kouda thinks it over. He finally makes a motion indicating he wants chips too, and Satou gives him a big grin and a thumbs up.

He comes back a few minutes later, arms full of food and passes it around. There’s chatter in the room now, but not so loud that you can’t hear the TV. Things eventually pipe down, and everyone watches the breathtaking ice, the eggs hatching, the penguins swimming and weaving between massive glaciers.

When Kouda looks around again, he sees Bakugou sitting next to Aoyama, Kirishima on the floor between his legs. Even Todoroki is here, sitting next to Sero, while Midoriya sits by Uraraka’s feet. They’ve all got some kind of snacks in their hands, and it’s all warm smiles and wide eyes and soft whispers.

The documentary reaches its climax with more impressive drone footage and some great music, and when the credits start rolling, everyone groans and sits up together, stretching out their joints.

‘That was awesome!’ Kaminari says with a huge grin.

‘Yeah, when you texted Guys gay penguins come to the common room on the group, I was really confused,’ Kirishima laughs.

‘I’ve read about the gay penguin couple in New York that are currently fostering a new hatchling,’ Midoriya pitches in. ‘They’re doing really well apparently!’

A few more people join in that conversation, and Kouda is just… baffled. He’s never had people talk so much about his favorite thing, never had people show this much interest in a documentary he watched. Because nature documentaries don’t have big explosions and fight scenes. They aren’t super romantic or filled with drama or very trendy. They were informative, and visually stunning, and calming.

‘Put it on the group next time,’ Uraraka says to him, ‘so we can all prep some snacks and join in from the beginning!’

Even Bakugou says, ‘Oye, send me the name of the documentary, I want to catch the parts I missed.’

Kouda nods and puts it up on the group immediately. Everyone slowly starts trickling away, and Kouda needs a minute to just process.

‘You good?’ Satou asks, holding up a glass of water. Kouda accepts it gratefully and takes a few careful sips.

Because for some reason he really wants to cry. For some reason his heart is so full.

And when he puts up a tentative message 2 weeks later saying There’s a new documentary on snow leopards on their group and Kaminari replies with Dibs on the single couch and half of Satou’s cookies his heart squeezes in a way he’s never felt before.

He thinks its honestly quite nice.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #bnha: thicker than blood #kouda kouji #satou rikidou #class 1a shenanigans #class 1-a headcanons #fluff #so much fluff dammit #this week on thicker than blood #lets talk about penguin docs #this was my friends idea #and i think its so cute honestly #i dont write kouda or satou ever so its a bit harder to envision their feelings but it was fun! #also i miss steve irwin guys #what a legend he made my childhood so much better

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void c7

ok i really like validation so its back again this week

crossposted on ao3

Whitelist AU by @petrichormeraki​

next chapter

last chapter

first chapter

They never quite fell back to sleep.

It took only three hours for them to start rolling out of their makeshift bed, and back to scrambling around the hobbit hole and making the most of the resources.

The two teens didn’t really talk, after how their last conversation finished.

Tommy peaked down into what looked like a not-so-hidden stripmine, before Tubbo’s head perked up.

“Someone’s at the door,” The brunett chimed, carefully striding their way over.

It was once again Grian, with a shulkerbox in tow.

“Sorry to bother you guys again,” Grian gave a sheepish wave while balancing the box against one arm and his chest. “I remembered last night that I didn’t leave any cooking supplies, or open up where the kitchen is.”

“It’s not just you,” Tommy decided to add, turning back towards where the entrance was. “That fuckin’ bird showed up again this mornin’. Woke us up.”

At that, Grian groaned. “Yeah..He does his own thing in the early mornings and at night. The hobbithole was basically his house. I’ll enclose him tonight, sorry for that.”

Moving the box under an arm, Grian tilted his head. “Can I go back and show you where the kitchen’s hidden?”

Tommy merely raised a brow. “It’s your house, ain’t it, dickhead?”

Tubbo lightly jabbed Tommy’s side.

“I made it, yeah, but you two are staying in it. As long as you’d like it, it’s yours and I won't come in without your explicit permission.”

With a second of baffled confusion, Tubbo cleared their throat and nodded.

“Yeah! Uh. Come in, I guess..?”

It took only a few minutes for Grian to expose the tucked away room by the super smelter setup Tubbo and Tommy were yet to investigate.

“I didn’t feel like decorating a kitchen since I already had so many plans with my megabase..If I had it my way I wouldn’t have made a kitchen at all, but the Jungle Gang of Hermits would’ve been severely disappointed if I was only having menu-crafted food.” He’d casually explain, pulling out a paper towel roll from the shulkerbox as he swiped down the tops and barren counters.

“How many Hermits are in the jungle?” Tubbo asked, brows furrowed. Their tablet’s visual narration was muted, as it repeatedly described Grian wiping off the dust from the counters.

“Ehh..Five? Including me? There’s also Ren, but he’s right on the edge, down in a masa. Beautiful setup he’s got going on.” He’d breezily explain.

Nodding along, Tommy glanced around the room.

“This is cool ‘n all but we don’t have to use this space. You left.. Shitloads of stuff, in the chests.” The blond had pointed out, turning back towards Grian.

With a shrug, Grian hummed dismissively. “Real food’s a much better idea, and i’m fairly certain steak’s most of what I got left, down here. Maybe for dinner but..Not really for breakfast, or anything.”

Tubbo shrugged. “Fair enough, yeah..We don’t exactly..Cook much? I mean- I know I certainly haven’t had the time to get much in me, other than coffee.” 

“Ooh, yeah, definitely a good traditional-prepped item.. Other than tea on occasion, I don't tend to stray from crafted food. Even on the days I sit down and eat it like a proper meal.” Grian nodded along, glancing off as he dropped the paper towels he had been using to clean into a little bin.

Tommy sighed, leaning against the wall. His head was pounding from the lack of sleep. “What’s the d-”

He was cut off  by a not-so-distant firework bang.

Tubbo flinched and ducked their head down, throwing their arms over their head. Tommy, on the otherhand, lowered to the ground, eyes sealed shut with his hands slammed against his ears.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay, they’re duds, they’re fireworks! No firework stars, either, just a puff of smoke. You’re both okay. You’re in the hobbit hole. It’s fine, everything’s good.” Grian hushed, giving exaggerated movements as he demonstrated slow breathing.

The blond boy growled, turning to snap at Grian- “We’re not babies!  We’re fine.”

Grian nodded, stepping back to give them both more space. “Okay. It’s okay. And it’s alright if it’s not okay. That was probably just Scar. He’s gonna be in and out of there. He’s the closest neighbor.” He had calmly explained to the pair.

Tubbo had deflated, taking a breath. “Thank you. Sorry. Uh. Y-Yeah.” They nodded numbly.

Tommy raised, folded his arms and didn’t meet the gaze of Grian. His face was twisted as he glared down at the floor. He felt weak.

Taking a small breath, Grian tentatively stepped back towards the door. “I’m going to head out and let you guys cool down, okay? You’re both free to go anywhere you want.”

With that, he departed, leaving the two teens alone.

A brief, tense silence fell between them.

“..That was fucking stupid.” Tommy scoffed.

Tubbo’s brows furrowed, turning towards him.

 “Excuse you?” They spoke, voice edging towards accusatory.

“They’re gonna fuckin’ think we’re weak, Tubbo-”

“I’m sorry that i’m not a fan of explosions! Yeah- that- that one’s my bad, Tommy.” Tubbo growled, going to step away.

Tommy grabbed their arm with a loose grip. “That doesn't matter, Tubbo, we’re- we’re supposed to be able to do better than that! We look like kids to him. We look like cowards-”

“I’m not a coward, Tommy! Oh, void, can’t you just drop it?” They hissed out, yanking their arm free.

“For the love of Prime- Tubbo. Tubbo, I'm not mad at you! So I need you not to be mad at me-”

“Too late for that!” They spat, rushing themself out the door with a slam.

Left behind was Tommy, tense and red in the face with a growing pit of guilt.

...

The people slowly started to pour back into the server. With everything going as expected, the admin breezily flicked and dismissed his communication screen, leaning back as he rested atop the incomprehensible mess of community chests.

Frequent pings and beeps ran through his ears as the comms went off, mixed with alerts and chatting as people settled back down.

He hadn’t bothered to check the messages until an hour in, when a high-pitched chirp emitted. A private message.

Summoning his screen back, he read over it.

ItsFundy: Hey Dre? My messages aren’t reaching Tubbo. Why aren’t the two back yet?

Dream quietly laughed. The server could use a quick break from them. 

It only took a quick flick of the wrist to pull up Tommy and Tubbo’s info. They were both in a world. With the MCC servers closed to the public for maintenance at night, Dream could only assume the two had scampered off to Hypixel or something of the like.

Upon a brief investigation, the servers were left as unlisted.

...Nonetheless, Dream will allow himself to revel in some peace for now. Let them get a little scared. A little more respect for the server-

Dream sneered.

They’re lucky they’re as tolerated as they are, here.

...And without them present, well- that sure will leave L’manburg in an interesting situation…

Dream: Can’t say I know. Sorry. They probably ran off, dont worry too much about them.

Making up his mind, Dream scrolled back to the Player information.

“It would be a shame if they went M.I.A, especially with how fresh the wound on L’manburg is..” He mused.

A click or two on the screen and it was done. They were locked from the server. 

“Enjoy yourselves, idiots.” He yawned, kicking his legs off the chests and onto the floor.

His axe was summoned to his hand, and he stalked off, a chill running through the air.

#bets against the void #dsmp x hc #dsmp x hermitcraft #whitelist au #hermit tommyinnit #hermit tubbo #mika-posts

[jjk-anime-horray]

Call of Spirits

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Spirited Away Au

Previous

Chapter Two:

The tall spikey black haired boy kept dragging you further into the unknown world ahead of you trying to get you to safety. And while it was only for a couple of minutes it felt like hours that you hand was snagged by his. Looking down to your collection of tendons, bones, and skin that compiled into making your organic mechanism to grab things you gasped, and pulled away from they boy whose face you yet too see as you saw what was happening to your hands. They were fading away, you were becoming the ghost while all of the spirits solidified around you in the darkness of the night.

Seeing your distress, the male turns around to visualized what was happening, his vibrant green eyes snapping open in realization upon noticing your dilemma.

"Dang it" You here him whisper to himself, or you, you couldn't really tell at the moment. You see his slender yet muscular fingers reach into the pocket of his robe, and you take the time to examine the stranger that was saving? dragging? moving? you, you didn't know at this point, but you did know that when you look at him you immediately get sucked into his dazzling green eyes.

Everything about the boy infront of you was out of worldly, but not in the way that he had huge teeth or was shaped like a raddish like some of the spirits in the hotel?.....Gathering you were currently in. He was out of worldy because he seemed so physically close, but distant at the same time, and he was absolutely beautiful.

When he rummaged through his pockets his pale skin practically glowed under the lights of the spirit life around you. His skin however was a stark contrast to his hair which could rival the deep night sky in its darkness, and wildness for that matter. Everything about his appearance contrasted itself in a poetic way that made him stunning. His height even though he seemed barely there. His fierce eyes that seemed to shift from bright green to dark blue based on the lighted fixated in a sharp slanted matter near his nose that only complimented the soft subtle feature of his face.

"You need to eat this." Is all he says curtly before shoving an oddly sweet smelling piece of bread, or was it even bread?..... Into your hands from his pocket.

All you do is give him a look of complete confusion, but then realizing his wording he rephrases his statement:

"Eat it, it will keep you from fading away in this world."

Without having many options, or any other options for that matter you break off a piece of the loaf in between your fingers and bring it too your mouth for consumption. The loaf tasted unknown and out of the ordinary, but you kept eating it because while you did the boy kept to his promise because you body started to reappear again under the night sky.

You had so many questions swirling in your head, but the most prominent three were who are you? what is this place? and why do you seem so familiar? You decide to ask the most important questions first.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Megumi."

"What are you?"

"A spirit."

"You don't look like a spirit."

"There are many type's of spirits in this world, however I don't remember what type I am though."

He isn't very much of a talker you thought to yourself, but luckily you could tell that he was being honest. You just had a feeling about him that he wasn't bad, like a neighbor or someone you've met before, but you were disoriented from your position so you couldn't really tell if it was non-sense or not.

"What is this place?"

"This place is a bathhouse for spirits who need a vacation, it's a part of the spirit world, it's like another reality of earth in away, but that's why you needed to eat something of this world to stay."

"What would have happened if I hadn't eaten it?" You asked worried and curiously.

"I don't exactly know, but you would have left this place in one form of another with out your parents."

Your parents! You needed to get them back, or well, get them back then figure out how to turn them back into humans.

"Yeah, you can't really get them out of hear without doing that first."

Dang it you said that last part out loud.

"How am I going to be able to get them back?" You ask the oddly familiar boy you know as Megumi.

"I don't know exactly, but you are going to need to get a job in this place first, if you want to do that I mean, there isn't many jobs here that spirits will allow you to do most likely, but I do think that the crafts-maker boiler man, Yaga, will help you, you need to listen carefully to the directions I'm about to say because I need to go soon, so I won't be able to repeat them twice. First you need to make your way through the bath house without being detected, so stay out of the way of it's customers and other spirits, then you'll need too..........

You intently listened to the spirit boy speak to you, the tone of his voice almost juxtaposed itself, it was calm, shallow and mellow someone could argue, but it was deep, hurried, and rushing to get all of the needed information about it out. Like a tamed river almost, but not quite a stream, a river that used to roar, but that got dammed up, and stuck in one place, longing to be free from the barrier. You payed attention to the details about staying away from certain types of spirits, places that you shouldn't mix up or go to, not use the elevators because you'll run into other spirits. But you couldn't get past the fact that he seemed so beaten down when he was acting lively.

"Lastly, you'll need to take the set of stares that spirals around the edges of the base too this building, but be very careful, the stones aren't as stable as they used to be and maybe a little bit slippery. "

You noted all of that then started to execute his directions, but before you could quietly run off you arm was tugged, holding you back and pulling you a little bit towards him again.

"One last thing, what is your name?" He acted calm when he said this but you didn't look past the light dusting of pink on his cheeks indicating that he may have been flustered.

"Its (Y/N)."

"(Y/N), remember that, you're going to need to know that for later, and don't forget it, it's the single most important thing you are going to need to remember in this place. Be careful with it, and be carefull."

With the final word left from his mouth he let you go from his grasp, signaling you to sneak off deeper into the bath house, to start your quest to save your parents from their fate. You tipped toe around the corner out of his sight, being careful to not cause a single creak of the floor boards or click of sound, you hurried of to start your journey, not exactly knowing what wonders and dangers lie under the mysterious roof of this house.

#megumi x reader #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #spirited away au #spirited away #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro x reader #anime #weeb #manga #x reader #fanfiction

[sonnetthebard]

Owen doesn't really like horror movies and he gets paranoid pretty easily because of them. He hates that it happens and never tells anyone about it, he thinks its embarrassing for someone like him to be set off by something as simple as a movie. Curt also didn't know, until he proposed watching a horror movie one night. Owen went along with it because he knew Curt wanted to watch it with him and tried his best to sit through it, but Curt picked up on how uncomfortable he was -S

I know this was supposed to be headcanons, but... I had to write this as a oneshot. I absolutely love it.

Genre: Fluff/ Romance/ Angst

Words: 3171

TL;DR: Owen is not a fan of horror movies.

TW: Anxiety/ Triggering, brief mention of violence, panic attack, minor implied ptsd.

"Darling, I'm home!" Owen called into his shared hotel room teasingly.

"What, you're done scoping out the venue already?" Curt smirked, making his way out of his room, already dressed down to just a dress shirt (with a few buttons undone) and dress pants.

Owen smirked at that. Evidently Curt had decided his work for the day was over. They were in the primary stages of a small mission- one that should be simple. Intercept the passing of information from the French to the Russians- no matter the cost. If they had to kill someone, so be it. It may be an easy mission, but it was a crucial one. It was set to happen at the ballroom in one of the biggest estates in London during a gala hosted by its owners- set to happen in two days. The owners weren’t royalty, but they were rich- which probably made them more powerful than royalty either way. The event was going to be massive. Royalty and dignitaries from all around the world would be there- and, of course, the informants they were there to stop. If they didn't intercept this information... well, let's just say the Soviets would have a rather large military advantage. And that wasn't something anyone wanted.

Earlier in the day, Curt and Owen had gone out and met the family hosting the gala- who were in full support of their work. They’d even offered to be so good as to give them a discreet signal when their marks arrived. Of course Owen had turned that down because, even with good intentions, the utilization of untrained assets was always a risk. Once they were done with that meeting, Curt and Owen had done some genuine espionage. They were lucky. Their informant had told them when and where their marks would be in preparation for the gala. So they'd alternated locations to watch their opponents. That way no one got suspicious seeing the same two people watching them everywhere they went. Then Owen, being the keener that he was, had gone to the ballroom and scoped it out. He always loved that part of planning. Plus, the house was practically a castle, and it was old. Owen just wanted to see it. It was a marvel of architecture. But it was at least a productive visit. He had a good sense of the place. 

Now, though... Now Owen was exhausted. He'd had a big day preparing for not only his physical game but his mental one. So he was more than happy to be back with the man he loved. And he really did love Curt, in spite of his flaws. Owen was well aware of those. He would have to have been dull not to take them into account when preparing for their romantic relationship. Owen knew he was the more fit spy. He knew Curt could be a bit... careless at best, reckless at worst. And boy, did Curt’s ego ever get the better of him sometimes. But Curt was one of the most affectionate people Owen had ever met. His heart was massive, and he was as loyal as a dog. That was more than enough for Owen. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth. Owen may not have the smartest lover in the world, but... he had never felt more loved by one person. Not even his own parents.

"Already? Love, I was there for nearly three hours." Owen chuckled softly.

"You must be exhausted." Curt rolled his eyes playfully.

"As a matter of fact I am!" Owen scoffed, smirking and setting his jacket on the rack. Curt walked over to him, wrapping his arms over his shoulders and kissing him gently. Owen hummed into it, snaking his arms around Curt's waist. "What are you up to, Mega? Trying to breathe some life back into me?"

"No... I just missed you." Curt blushed lightly, still smirking and trying to play this off as cool as he could. "Am I not allowed to kiss my favourite partner after a long day of work?"

"Oh, you're more than welcome to..." Owen winked, giving him another gentle peck. He rested his forehead on Curt's, sighing. "I would say you could kiss me any time you’d like, but... well... we both know the world isn't quite ready for that."

"I know." Curt sighed. "One day..."

"We can only hope." Owen agreed. He gave Curt one more small peck of reassurance before, pulling away, walking into their room. "So what have we got for plans tonight? I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite at the fish and chips stand down the street. It's quite good. Then... maybe we could go to the cinema?"

"Actually... I was thinking maybe we could stay here." Curt bit his lip. "We've got a television here, and... they're showing Creature From The Black Lagoon on one of the channels we pick up. I missed it in the theatres while we were in Germany, and I've been hoping to see it for a few years now. It's a horror movie, and I've heard the special effects in it are great! We could watch it together!"

"Oh..." Owen bit his lip, breath hitching a bit at that.

Now... there was a bit of a dilemma. Owen came off as very suave, very tough, and impenetrable but... he had a bit of a problem with horror films. That, and films surrounding espionage. He didn't know what it was about the visual medium of storytelling that was becoming so popular, but... it affected him deeply. It was as though it set off something deep inside him, and brought up all his own fears. Even if they weren’t the fears discussed in the movie. As tacky as the movies were with their corny monsters and questionable acting they sparked his anxietes. Even worse to Owen was the irrational paranoia that came with it. The fear of something that didn't even exist. Even the things that very clearly could *never* exist. Like Dracula. Still, if Curt wanted to watch one with him, he would do his best to sit through it. Maybe he could focus his attentions on Curt and not the movie. Or maybe this movie wouldn’t get to him so badly. 

"Oh what?" Curt checked, the smallest trace of concern riddling his features.

"It's nothing." Owen chuckled, trying to mask his lie. He didn't want Curt worrying about him for something so trivial. "I would love to. What are we doing for supper though?"

“I didn’t think that through.” Curt admitted. “We, um... well, we’ve got half an hour before the movie starts. Maybe we could grab fish and chips and eat it here while we watch?”

“Sure thing, love.” Owen sighed. “You want me to go and get it, then?”

“That works for me.” Curt nodded. 

“And do you want me to get some crisps for later in case you get a bit peckish?” Owen checked. 

“Can a get a translation of that?” Curt teased. He knew most of what Owen meant, he just loved bothering him and he knew how much his boyfriend hated Americanisms.

“Do I really have to?” Owen groaned. Curt just raised his brows in expectation. “Fine. You’re lucky I love you... Do you want me to get you some ‘potato chips’ for later in case you get the ‘munchies’?”

“I would love some potato chips.” Curt smirked triumphantly. 

“‘Potato chips’...” Owen grumbled, grabbing his jacket again. “Bloody Americans butchering our language...”

“Love you too!” Curt called out the door teasingly as Owen left. 

The fish and chips place wasn’t far down the street. It was one Owen knew well- his parents had even taken him there as a child. He remembered those days... Things were simpler. Not nearly as complicated as his life had become. But that wasn’t why Owen was so eager to get out of the hotel room. No, Owen wanted the space alone to brace himself and prepare himself for this movie. Because he’d always been strong for Curt. He didn’t want Curt seeing him weak. So he just needed a bit of fresh air. That’s also why he’d volunteered to get the crisps (no matter what Curt wanted to call them). Extra time to steel himself. He took his time, but even then he only spent twenty minutes out of the house. Still... it was better than having had no time at all to prepare. He took deep breaths, making his way back to the hotel room. 

“Alright, darling. I have the food.” Owen called him, taking his shoes off and walking into the hotel. He set the food down on the coffee table. Curt walked out, dress shirt completely gone now. In it’s place, a white tank top. He was in denim jeans now, likely so that he didn’t ruin his dress pants. Owen smirked. “I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie, love...”

“We are.” Curt furrowed his brows, confused. He sat down on the couch, taking one of the meals for himself. Owen shrugged his jacket off, hanging it back up. He then joined Curt on the couch, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Well... you’re very distracting...” Owen hummed. Curt blushed. 

“I can put my shirt back on...” Curt mumbled. 

“No, darling. Don’t do that.” Owen sighed contentedly, taking the meal Curt hadn’t taken and setting it in front of himself. Curt had taken out his multi-purpose hunting tool and a pocket knife to eat with, but Owen stopped him. He pulled out the provided cutlery. “Here, darling. We can eat like civilized people”

“Right.” Curt flushed again. 

“You’re adorable when you’re all worked up.” Owen chuckled. 

“You’re a bully, you know that?” Curt grumbled, getting up and walking over to their in-room television. They were lucky. Not many hotels had them, but... this one did. Their superiors didn’t mind splurging a little on their accomodations, because it usually meant they were better rested for their job. 

“I’m not a bully...” Owen chuckled, his heartrate picking up again at even the thought of what he was about to watch. “I’m just a tease, doll.”

“So you admit it?” Curt smirked triumphantly, fiddling with the knobs to adjust the channel. 

“Only this once.” Owen rolled his eyes playfully. 

“I think I... there we go!” Curt beamed as the television crackled onto the right station. The scoring to a typical horror movie started. Owen gulped, already not liking this. Curt seemed to pick up on that. “You okay?”

“Absolutely fine.” Owen lied. Curt sighed, coming back and sitting down. 

Both men sat in silence, eating and watching the movie. Owen tried to focus on his food, blocking out the movie and his surroundings. But... that was unfortunately very hard to do. Especially when Curt was so invested. The man was leaning as far forward onto his knees as he possibly could. He thought Curt might have said something about Owen being right about the fish and chips, but Owen didn’t really hear it. He was caught in his head, in a way. And in many other ways, he was totally and uterly absorbed in the movie, trapped without consent the the saga being recounted on the screen. He didn’t even notice when he finished his food, caught up in everything. 

And then... then came the moment Owen was dreading. The one that had his palms sweating and his body tense the entire night. Even with all that awful anticipation it caught him completely by surprise. Just as it was meant to. For some people, that was the thrill of the game. To him, it wasn’t. To him, it was not just truly terrifying, but also... humiliating. Totally and utterly humiliating. Especially in front of his Curt. Curt, who thought he was this suave, impenetrable rock. Curt, whom he was the foundation. Curt got to watch him cower like a child. The moment of dread was, of course, the first jumpscare. And just as Owen had predicted, he had jumped right out of his seat, yelping. Curt saw him and... he started to laugh. 

The world caved in for Owen. It was a mix of the genuine fear he’d experienced watching the movie, the fears that fear alone had resurface, and the humiliation. He felt in a way that he was disappointing Curt already. And the laughing... it rang in his ears even once Curt had finished. Because this time Curt wasn’t laughing with him- he was laughing at him. He tried to mask it, but he was far too caught up in his head to have any control over what his face did. He shook a little bit. He couldn’t even fear anything around him. He had tunnel vision, and everything sounded like it was underwater. Owen hated it. He knew then and there that trying to be tough had not been the right move. That he should have said no to Curt. But it was far too late for that realization to be any good. 

At first, Curt had admittedly thought it was funny that Mr. Tough Guy Owen Carvour himself had fallen victim to the classic jumpscare. And he would be the first to admit he had laughed a long time- especially when he thought that for once he had been the one to fluster Owen and not the other way around. But then, when Owen neglected to come back with any snide remarks... When he didn’t tell Curt to shut up, or even chuckle along with him... That was when Curt knew that now was not the time to be laughing. That something was genuinely wrong. That was when he finally took the time to notice that his lover was shaking, and the fear that had been in his eyes when he jumped had not vanished- even though the protegonists were safe. Curt took Owen’s hand’s carefully. Owen twitched in what could be a flinch, but put up no fight. That was the final tip-off for Curt that sommething was very wrong. He got in front of Owen carefully. 

“Hey... Hey, Owen. You’re okay.” Curt soothed. Owen seemed to snap a bit out of it- enough to see Curt in front of him and look him in the eyes. Curt suppressed his concern and put on a comforting smile for Owen. “That’s right, babe. Look at me. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

There was a moment of Owen just staring into Curt’s eyes and reminding himself that Curt had his back. That he was safe. Once he had calmed enough to speak, he took a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Owen mumbled. 

“No... no, don’t be sorry!” Curt shook his head, giving Owen’s hands a squeeze. Immediately as thought that had awakened something in him, Owen was squeezing back as if it were the only thing keeping him on the ground. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do.” Owen spat, almost as though the words were poison. Self hatred oozed from his tone. “I’ve been lying to you. I’m a coward.”

“You are not a coward...” Curt stated firmly. 

“I bloody well near shit my pants at something I saw on the telly!” Owen pointed out, incredulous. “Something imaginary, on the other side of the screen where it could never harm me.”

“That’s what these movies are made to do, O.” Curt assured him. 

“They’re meant to give people a quick fright.” Owen shook his head. “But... that terrified me. Genuinely scared me.”

“Well... we’ve got pasts.” Curt bit his lip. “We’ve seen stuff. We’ve been the victims of real jumpscares where we could have died. Maybe it reminds you of those. Maybe the lines blurred.”

“Curt, it wasn’t anything we’ve been through that scared me.” Owen softened, nearly whimpering, both scared and embarassed but also pleasing for Curt to listen. “It was that that creature was going to show up behind us and do the same, or... take you away. That poorly dressed, hokey monster that could not be any further from being real. I’m not just a coward. I’m a bloody idiot.”

“You’re not a coward, Owen. And you’re not an idiot. Everyone’s brain is built a bit differently.” Curt soothed him. “You want to protect me... just like I want to protect you.”

“From something that could never hurt us either way.” Owen pointed out. 

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter to the mind.” Curt sighed. “I don’t know if this happens to you when you read all your books, but sometimes someone will tell me a story and I get so invested in it that I’ll feel like I’ve lived through it myself.”

“I know what you mean...” Owen nodded. 

“Well... maybe this movie did the same thing for you.” Curt reasoned. 

“I... suppose.” Owen blinked, realizing Curt made a lot of sense.

“Just like you feel things when you read... you’re feeling things watching this.” Curt sighed.

“Right...” Owen nodded, letting that sink in. 

“You think you can take a few breaths with me, O?” Curt soothed. Owen nodded, following Curt through a few deep breaths until he had stopped shaking and his grip on Curt’s hands had lightened. Once Curt was satisfied, he got up and changed the channel. I Love Lucy was on. He smirked, sitting back down on the couch. For once, he was the one pulling Owen close to cuddle. “We’re going to watch this channel for the rest of the night, okay? I think it’s got some of the good family shows on it.”

“Are you sure?” Owen checked. “I can go lay down. I know you really wanted to watch this film.”

“Yeah, but... not as much as I want to spend time with my handsome British boyfriend.” Curt teased. 

“I love you.” Owen sighed, resting his head on Curt’s chest. 

“I know.” Curt winked playfully, running a hand through Curt’s hair. “Hey, if you’re ever uncomfortable with what I want to do... just tell me, okay? No judgement.”

“Alright.” Owen nodded. 

And so they spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Eventually they did switch and Owen was back to holding Curt. He found immense comfort in that- and that Curt didn’t judge him. It was lovely to be totally and utterly enamoured with someone. And that was what he was with Curt- what he was certain they both were. He didn’t focus on the telly (though it did give him a few laughs- that Lucy was always getting into trouble). Instead, he focused on Curt’s hands running though his hair, or the little kisses he was being adornerd with. In other words, he chose to focus on how much he was loved. And that put him in an entirely better place. There was, at least, one thing they could take away from the whole fiasco: no more horror movie nights. They had enough horrors in their own life without needing to worry about anything on the tv. 

#tw: swearing #tw: panic attack #tw: implied ptsd #tw: anxiety #tw: triggers #spies are forever #saf #curt mega #agent curt mega #owen carvour #agent owen carvour #joey richter #curtwen #gay #lgtbtq #oneshot #tin can bros #tcb #tin can bros fanfiction

[carnelianns]

Hello! I hope you're doing fine 😂 so can I request for Ikesen jealously headcanon with Nobunaga, Masamune, Ieyasu, Kenshin and Mitsuhide? Like they're jealous because their MC was spending time with other warlords but they found out in the end that its because MC was trying to surprise/talk about him something lol 😊 thank you so much!

♆ - jealousy headcanon

Nobunaga Oda

Nothing can be kept from your very observant lover, who happened to see that the time you leave the Castle just so happens to correspond with Hideyoshi’s leaves. 

He noticed how you seemed more.. jumpy than usual. Your behavior has been tinged with a slight nervousness lately, one that only causes him to quirk an eyebrow. 

“Fireball,” he almost speaks into your neck, causing you to shudder as his breath tickles you. “Is there something you wish to say to me?”

Your eyebrows furrow for a moment, before your eyes widen. Hoping he doesn’t feel you gulp, you say, “Nothing.”

His large hands squeeze your hips harder for a split-second. Bringing his head up to look into your eyes, you almost look away before his fingers lead you back to his face.

“Are you sure of that?”

You almost held it in. Almost. Bursting out into a loud sigh, you huff, coming clean of your now-ruined birthday plan you and Hideyoshi were working on for your lover. 

“And now you ruined your own surprise party!” You pout, lightly tapping his chest. “You deserve a punishment for that, my lord.”

Your joking words seem to have another effect on the man as he raises an eyebrow, eyes glinting, moving to tower over you.

“Don’t you think the one who’s been running around with another man deserves the punishment, my love?” 

He doesn’t mean it, of course, but what he does mean are the kisses and caresses that seem just a bit more aggressive this particular night. 

Masamune Date

Masamune had gotten home from his little espionage, tired and barely bandaged, seeking for your embrace, only to be informed that you were out. To visit Ieyasu.

Slightly taken aback, he can only laugh it off after a few moments. Then came the information that it wasn’t just today that you visited his fellow warlord, but for the past week or so he had been out, you visited the blonde every single day. 

The grand frown on his face doesn’t leave until you arrive back home, a surprised smile on your face as you practically throw yourself into his arms in a hug that he half-heartedly reciprocates.

“Masamune? Is there something wrong? Do your wounds hurt, or—”

“I heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with Ieyasu.” He manages a pained smile, his heart clenching more than he’d like to admit. “You know I trust you, lass, but—”

Before he could finish, your lips are immediately on his, silencing him in the only way you can. Masamune melts into the kiss, and it’s only when you pull away can he see how your lips jut down into a slight pout. 

“I went to Ieyasu’s so I could learn how to bandage you up, silly,” you shake your head, lightly hitting his shoulder. “You always come home with a new cut or a fresh bruise. Don’t you notice?”

“Oh,” is all he can say.

“Yeah, oh.” You roll your eyes, before giving him another, much-needed kiss. “Now don’t be dumb and let me patch you up.”

“I can think of other things we can—” “Nope. Your wounds first. I’m not making love with a man who has fresh bruises inflicted by someone other than me.”

He promptly shuts up at that.

Ieyasu Tokugawa

Even before you two had become a couple, only one name had come out of your mouth when you chose to speak of your interests. Sasuke. 

Now, Ieyasu isn’t an inherently jealous man, but the fact that this so-called “hometown friend” of yours you speak of so highly always manages to sneak into the conversation can only exasperate him. 

So when you finally asked him if you could go out with Sasuke for the day, he only blinked at you, before turning his head, continuing his work as if you hadn’t interrupted him.

Petty, yes, but he doesn’t really care at this point. Your eyes grew wide at his reaction, poking and probing your beloved about why he wasn’t answering, only for your questions to be left unanswered.

“No way… Ieyasu, are you jealous?”

“I am not jealous. What are you talking about?” He grumbles in almost an instant, causing you to grin.

“Sasuke’s just a friend, Ieyasu. You’re the only one I love,” you whisper cheekily into his ear, leaving a kiss on his cheek.

Blushing, yet still not meeting your eye, the warlord mutters, “Wrong spot.”

Your jaw drops in confusion, a laugh following soon after as you press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

Your outing with Sasuke went on just as planned, despite you being a few minutes late...

Kenshin Uesugi

It hasn’t been long since you moved into Kasugayama Castle, yet all the letters being delivered only seemed to be to you, from a certain man by the name of Masamune Date. 

Kenshin once seriously debated on whether or not he should make the letters magically disappear. 

The smile on his face whenever you so much as receive a letter from the man tears Kenshin between seething and enjoying the view. 

His curiosity takes the better of him one day as he opts for a quick peek at another one of the Blue Eyed Dragon’s many letters.

‘I miss you, kitten.’

“Kenshin, please, he was joking—”

“Let go of me. I will be marching to Azuchi myself,” is all he repeats as you and Sasuke desperately try to stop your sword-wielding lover.

You have to cuddle the angered warlord into the next day to calm him down. 

“I love you, you know.” He stares at you for a moment, as if your words were foreign, before turning away. “... Okay.” 

He’s quite petty when jealous. You still love him regardless. 

Mitsuhide Akechi

Although you are the Azuchi Castle’s chatelaine, Mitsuhide is sure that being in his lord’s chambers for minutes, sometimes even hours, is not a part of your duty. 

Neither is the bright smile you always seem to sport whenever you leave said chambers. 

He doesn’t comment on it — probably only willing to even think about it at his deathbed — but the giant frown on his face one fine day when you decide to visit him in his manor is worth pointing out. 

So you do. “Mitsuhide, what’s gotten you so blue?”

He stares at you for a moment, and then a few more, and it’s unnerving to see your normally bantering lover unable to say even a word, a flurry of emotions swimming about in his fox-like eyes. 

Then, finally, he smirks as if nothing is wrong, only opting to pull you close against his side. “What a lovely sight. Are you worried about me, little mouse?”

“Yes, I am.” Your answer is firm, only causing his eyes to widen. “I’m worried about you, Mitsuhide, so what’s wrong?”

And, well, he can’t refute when you’re being all angelic like that. The night ends with a long conversation, and your hands cupping his face, fingers rubbing soothingly against his cheeks.

“I love you, okay? You and only you.”

You swear you see his cheeks redden before he smirks once more, and you’re afraid of what’s to come out of that devilish mouth of his. 

“Is that so? Forgive me, but I’m a visual learner. Do you mind showing me?”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku x reader #ikesen x reader #satou nobunaga #masamune date #ieyasu tokugawa #kenshin uesugi #mitsuhide akechi #headcanons #200 followers

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Ten: Shereshoy

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! Rejoice my step-children, for today is prime indulgence hours. You've waited long enough. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @toxiicpop @renegademustelid @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @hoodedbirdie @fioccodineveautunnale @thyestean-feast @kateb013 @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @oh-no-who-am-i @crownofmanga @talesfromtheguild @robbinholland @kylolover96 @lukesrighthand @lackofhonor @lightan117 @misssilencewritewell @theorderoffallenstars @iwantsethrollinstohitmeintheface @fan-g0rl

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

Part Six: Go Alone

Part Seven: Like A Ghost

Part Eight: Savior At High Noon

Part Nine: Swan Song

Interlude: How He Sees The World

Shereshoy [pronounced sheh-REYSH-oy]:

"Lust for life and much more." "Hanging onto life and relishing it." A uniquely Mandalorian word meaning the whole-hearted enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as living to see the next day. Unrestrained, unrestricted, wild and eager.

...x...

Waking up with the clammy chill of bacta all over your body was not an experience that bore repeating. Somewhat like being Shanghaied. You weren't sure how you could feel both sticky and slimy, but the sensation was managed with flying colors. 

You had only been in the Nevarro med-center once before, when you had accidentally degloved your fingertip in a rivet hole. As you were an independent contractor (who normally prioritized trades of goods or food over credits in exchange for your labor) the best you could get at the time with your limited funding was a bacta patch. Your left index finger still bore a faded ring of scar tissue around the first knuckle.

So when the droid nurse in the medbay informed you of the fact that you had been healing in an actual bacta tank for a little over half a cycle, the blood loss and internal damage having nearly done you in, you were thrown for a loop. 

"You organic lifeforms are so foolhardy, always pushing your bodies too far." It scolded after removing the basin of lukewarm water that you had scrubbed your face and hands with. The artificially warm tone of its vocoder took some of the bite out of its words. "You have been cleared for removal from the tank, but I would advise against strenuous activities for several days."

You nodded from the cot, still staring down at your legs. You were a bit dazed, a bit fuzzy on the details of how you had gotten here in the first place. Your last intact memory was of tilting your head back to watch Moff Gideon's ship soar through the sky with the Mandalorian attached. After that, there was nothing but vague flashes, more sensation than visual. "How...how much is this going to cost me?" You asked, trying to remember the conversion rates for liquids and solids and whether bacta counted as a liquid or a solid. Was it sold by the pound or by the liter? Maker, this would be a hell of a debt to work off.

The droid tittered strangely, patting your arm. "Oh, I suppose you would not recall being delivered to us. The man who brought you in paid the deposit for the tank, and then returned three days later with the rest of the credits. You are very fortunate to have such a good friend!"

The man who brought you in. "Was...w-were they a Mandalorian?" You knew you sounded a little too desperate, but you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment. 

"You do remember! Yes, that is correct." The droid affirmed cheerily.

"Do you have any way to get in touch with a man named Greef Karga?" You rushed to inquire as the bot turned to roll back out the door. You had been about to ask for Cara, but decided against it at the last second. You were uncertain if she was still...at odds with the law.

"The leader of the Nevarro Bounty Hunters Guild? Of course, everyone knows how to contact him! But you rest, rest rest. If I can get ahold of him and if he's not busy, I'm sure he'll be along shortly." The droid assured you.

You flexed your hands with a soft yawn after it left, and then you settled back against the pillow. Every muscle in your body felt a bit stiff, likely from lack of use. Half a cycle. Two weeks. Maker, you had nearly died. What a horrible scenario. 

He had nearly died. Your throat ached with an unnameable emotion, you hand sliding down to graze over the new scar on your side. It was larger than you expected, and you flinched when you actually looked at it. Better scarred than dead, you thought pragmatically, even while tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, biting your lip.

You only meant to close your eyes for a moment, but when you opened them again, it appeared to be much later in the day. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in via the small window over your bed, the tiny fan doing little to combat the heat seeping through the sheet that covered you.

You heard someone clearing their throat beside you and you turned your head, eyes landing upon the visage of one Greef Karga. Posted up beside him was Cara, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to doze off." You apologized, floundering to sit up.

Greef waved off your words. "Relax, we've only been here for a few minutes. You looked so peaceful, we didn't want to interrupt." The older man jibed. 

"You gave us a hell of a scare, rookie." Dune scolded, sharply contrasting with Karga's lackadaisical opening statement.

"How did...what happened?" You asked nervously.

"Well, it was all very dramatic. Mando blew Gideon's ship clean out of the sky with one of those fancy gadgets he's got, then he gave you a quick burner patch on the spot." Karga mused, "Your Mandalorian caused quite the stir when he came back here with you. Damn near kicked the doors down."

"Not mine." You corrected him automatically. 

Cara scoffed and Karga raised an eyebrow. "Are you entirely certain about that, my wayward little friend?" You gave him a confused look and he shrugged, adjusting his body in the obviously-uncomfortable folding chair beside your cot. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Really, I ought to thank you. If you hadn't dragged that metal-plated moron off the battlefield, I'm certain we would still be under ex-Imperial control. I got my best hunter back, and a new enforcer to boot." Greef said with a smirk, gesturing up and down at the sturdy dropship trooper alongside him.

"Glad to be of assistance." You informed him dryly.

Karga chuckled at your wry tone, and then folded his hands in his lap. "All joking aside though, it's good to see you out of that tank. I think...I think it'll do him some good as well." The older man sighed, "For lack of a better word, he's been inconsolable since the big brouhaha. Gonna' run the Guild out of bounties if he keeps it up."

You cocked your head, asking, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Mando has an interesting way of coping with his emotions." He elaborated dryly. "I get the feeling he's one of those people that, if he wasn't a Mandalorian, he'd probably resort to panic baking."

The idea of the armored man in a bakery somewhere (probably using his flamethrower to carmelize the top of a crème brûlée or to dispense justice to unruly customers) sprang into your mind unbidden and you burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just--that's such an image, I-" you wheezed helplessly.

Greef chuckled again, taking your hand. "Do me a favor, alright? I promise it won't be difficult."

"Absolutely." You agreed quickly. After all, Greef was probably the one responsible for feeding the Mandalorian the bounties that had funded your healing time. Stars, the debt you owed the armored man seemed to be climbing higher by the second!

"He's due back in two...maybe three days, if his hunting track record is anything to go by." Karga squeezed your hand gently. "Go to see him." The serious tone of his voice caught you a little off-guard and you shook your head at him after a moment of silence. 

"I doubt he'll want to see me." You mumbled. "I mean, I left the ship because he told me he didn't want me involved. He said...he said it was Guild business. Then, I ended up getting involved anyway and...well, almost killed in the bargain. I guess he was right to try and keep me out of it." You rubbed at the scar on your side nervously. It sat just above where you had landed on Calican's buckle, puckering the skin slightly where it had once been smooth. You weren't certain you would get used to the odd sensation.

"That's why you left?" Cara sputtered. "He said he hurt you. I gave him an earful and everything!" She grimaced. "Now I feel like an asshole."

"He...what?"

"Yeah, he said that he 'lost control' and hurt you, and that it was better that you stay as far away from him as possible. He sounded all kinds of fucked-up over it." Dune pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "If he didn't believe that he deserved it, I doubt he would have just sat there and taken the tirade I unleashed. I uh...I lit him up pretty good." She finished with a wince.

You stared up at her, somewhat dumbfounded. "O…Oh." You replied weakly.

"I think...well, it's not my place to say, but I think he'll be happy to see you. As happy as a Mando can be, anyway." Karga said quietly.

You thought back on every instance you had heard the smile in his voice, the precious times that you had made him laugh--

And you nodded firmly. "You'd have to knock me out with beskar to keep me away."

Cara grinned and thumped her forehead against yours. "That's the spirit!"

Greef's laughter was raucous (and a little sheepish) and you couldn't help joining in. 

...

Getting back into the Crest was the easy part. The worst issue you encountered was that it was raining softly, making a humid haze rise from every surface and ensuring that you would leave footprints. 

After two members of the Guild offloaded the carbonite plaques and trotted away with their hoverskiffs, you slunk out from behind the crates and bolted forward.

It only took one try to get the combination this time. He hadn't changed it. He usually changed it once every three days, so that was strange.

You entered the cool, dark hold with a small amount of trepidation, tiptoeing towards the ladder as the hatch slid shut behind you. Soft sniffling from behind the bunk shutter met your ears faintly and your heart broke. Almost before you could think about it, you hammered your fist down on the controls to raise the barrier. 

The kid was sitting in the bunk, little hands pressed to their eyes while they snuffled and whimpered. They looked up at you in panic and it was so strange to see the second that they recognized you. They stumbled forward into your arms, those tiny claws scrabbling at your damp tunic as they sobbed. 

"Oh sweetheart, sweetheart…" you whispered, cradling them close to your chest. "I'm right here with you, it's alright now. Everything will be fine." You stroked the back of their head, blinking away your own tears. 

They started hiccupping, their little body jolting with the force of it, and you toted them into the refresher. With a bit of cajoling, you got them to hold still while you swabbed over their face with a warm cloth, cleaning off the grime of the day and those tear tracks. 

They were still sniffling slightly when you pressed a cup of water into their little hands. "You're probably thirsty after all that hard work, huh?" You asked softly, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of the bunk. "I wonder how long he's been gone for." You continued, thinking aloud. The child hurriedly gulped down the water, holding the empty cup back out with a little whine. "Ha! Of course, as soon as I sit down." You teased, hauling yourself back up to refill the paper cup. "Alright, slower this time. Don't want you getting a tummy ache." You instructed, holding the cup for them so you could moderate their sips.

You watched as their huge ears began to perk back up. They looked for all the world like a freshly-watered plant, and the mental comparison made you snicker. 

"My favorite little mudjumper." You sighed, straightening out their teeny robes. At least they were clean and dry, not that you had anticipated the Mandalorian letting the kid's health or hygiene fall by the wayside. Knowing him, he was probably more likely to forget to wear his helmet than cause the kid to suffer.

You sat there peacefully for a while as the sky outside darkened, just listening to the rain beating on the hull and stroking your fingers over the kid's head. The child sprawled out on your chest, their eyes slowly sliding shut as you continued to console them.

You were eventually roused from your staring contest with the floor by the sound of the ramp extending and then heavy footsteps. The cargo bay was almost pitch-black now, the only light coming in from the now-closing boarding ramp. The rain was still beating down, though. It had picked up while you sat, drumming a tattoo on the roof high overhead.

There was a faint click and machinery hummed to life, the hold becoming softly illuminated by the orange running lights beneath the floor grates. Your heart lurched in your chest when you spotted the Mandalorian fiddling with his gauntlet by the loading ramp, obviously focused on it. Your heart now felt like it was about to beat out of your chest. It was a miracle you didn't wake the child with the frantic motion alone!

You couldn't move. You could barely breathe, your nerves threatening to strangle you. All you could manage to do was sit there in silence and just...wait. 

How would he react? Would he be angry that you were here? He had paid for the bacta tank, would he require you to pay him back? The thoughts bounced around in your head frantically, making your stomach drop out with apprehension.

He grunted something, sounding upset as he dragged a hand down over the front of his helmet and sagged against the wall. Maybe you shouldn't have done this, maybe...maybe you should have waited to see whether he sought you out first.

Your brow furrowed. No. You had done enough of that. It was your turn now.

You heard his breath hitch and you realized belatedly that you had stopped paying attention to what he was doing. Clearly he had noticed you, if the tilt of his head was any indication. His hands fell slack at his sides, like he had forgotten about his gauntlet entirely.

"Didn't mean to startle you." You said quietly, not wanting to rouse the child that was still slumped over on your chest. 

He didn't move. Didn't respond. Hell, you weren't even certain if he was breathing anymore. He just stood there, his cape dripping a small puddle onto the grating beneath his feet. 

The kid yawned, smacking their lips and snuggling back down against your collarbone. 

"Put the...put the kid in his crib. Please." The Mandalorian requested. His tone was even, giving you absolutely nothing to go on as far as gauging his thoughts. 

Stars, you had missed the sound of his voice. You almost didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth. 

You carefully got to your feet and turned, laying the child down in their bassinet. Your hand hovered over the controls to close the protective shielding, silently waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah. I...yeah. Please." He muttered. 

Once you had done so, you shifted back to face him. You kept your eyes on your boots though, unable to look at him just yet. Anxious nerves wrung the life right out of your voice, making it crack when you finally began to speak. "I-I'm sorry. I know you didn't...I know that I went against what you told me to do, b-but--" You heard him swear and then a sharp clatter met your ears. He must have lunged across the hold because abruptly, a set of gloved hands were cupping your face and dragging it upwards. 

You had shut your eyes and tensed up on instinct when you saw the hands coming, so the mouth that pressed to your own was a bit of a shock. You froze, then sighed with relief and leaned hard into the kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, greedily pawing the familiar beskar (and the not-as-familiar way that it pitched under your touch). He groaned against your lips and pressed your back to the wall, his own hands grasping for purchase on your shoulders.

He had missed you. Or at least, it certainly seemed that way! Any other thoughts you had at the moment fled under the assault of his desperate mouth.

He exhaled raggedly and then buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't say anything for the longest time, one hand falling to clutch at the fabric of your tunic over your side. His shoulders heaved and you realized he was crying, breath wheezing through his teeth from where he had bitten down on his glove to stifle the sound.

You kept your eyes closed and cautiously, carefully, you slid your hand up into the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm here." You whispered. You felt his knees buckle and he swayed, forcing you to grab a handful of his soaked flight suit to steady him.

"M' sorry, I-" he rasped. "I'm getting you all wet. The rain, I..." 

"Yeah...I don't know what they call it on Mandalore, but here, we call it crying." You teased him softly.

He actually laughed at that, pulling back a little. "Guess now I know why Karga and Dune told me to take the day off. I went to the medbay and you weren't there, I-I figured you'd left Nevarro for good. Why…" he swallowed hard, then continued, "why are your eyes shut?"

"I uh, it was mostly a reflex." You admitted. "Should I…" Your throat had gone bone dry. "Sh-Should I open them?" 

"I…" He hesitated. "You already know my name."

Din Djarin, the words tripping over one another as he struggled to get them out through a mouth that barely worked--

"Well yeah, but that doesn't give me viewing privileges." You retorted. "Hell, that doesn't even give me permission to use your name. Knowing it is only a part of the equation."

"Do you...want to use my name?" He sounded breathless.

"I mean, I wouldn't--I wouldn't mind it." You admitted weakly after a few seconds of hemming and hawing. "Only if you're okay with it though!" You rushed to add, feeling as if you needed to make sure he knew he could retract the offer. "I know that it's got a lot of weight to it." He wasn't angry at you. He wanted you to say his name and see his face.

"I'm terrified." He replied bluntly. "I haven't shown anyone...well, ever. You're the only one that's--I-I mean, you're the...you're it." How could someone make you weak in the knees while also simultaneously being absolutely, entirely, outrageously awkward? 

"I can start with your name, and if you still want to...I mean, you make that choice, okay?"

"I want you to see. I just don't know if I…I mean, the idea of you...I thought you were going to die, all because I screwed up, pushed you away. I want--I need to make sure you don't...that you don't…" He struggled with his words, gloved hands wrinkling your tunic beyond hope when he tightened his grip. "I can't, not again. I'm so sorry." He finally muttered. His mouth pressed to your neck, kisses trailing wet and hungry over your skin. "Please, please say my name."

"Din." You whispered, again struck with the sensation that you were breaking a multitude of rules as you felt him shudder bodily. "Din...Djarin."

"Shit." He groaned, tilting his head back. "That's...that's nice." He sounded a bit faint.

"Please don't pass out." You murmured. "All the beskar would absolutely crush me and I don't think you want to try and scrape me up out of the floor grates."

He choked out another laugh, wet gloves smoothing over your hair. "Sorry. M' just tired. This feels like a dream." He sighed heavily. "I have to wash up. Get out of this suit so it'll dry."

"I'm all for getting you out of the suit."

He smiled against your neck, "yeah?" 

"Mmhm." You nodded, blindly reaching for the clasps on his gription harness. 

Between your sightless fumbling and his hungry kisses, it took much longer than normal for him to get out of his armor. He couldn't seem to stop kissing you, seeking your mouth again and again.

"Making up for lost time." Din grunted, finally managing to divest himself of his flight suit altogether and then jerking the liner shirt off over his head. He pressed his body to your own and you flushed wildly. Last time he hadn't even fully removed his flight suit, and he had kept the liner shirt on. It was surreal to be able to touch him like this.

He seemed to agree, if the helpless noises in his throat were any indicator. You trailed your fingers along his chest, sliding boldly down to stroke through the thick curls that started right above the waist of his compression leggings. "Pare, wait, I need…t-to shower." He pleaded, his hands fumbling on your shoulders. "H-Have to do this right." His forehead bumped against yours. "Have to do this right." He repeated, now grinding himself down into your palm instinctively. You easily found the thick arch of his cock through the leggings and you couldn't resist giving him a gentle caress before you pulled away.

His breathing sounded distinctly shaky. "Okay. Go ahead." You urged him, making a shooing gesture in what you hoped was the direction of the refresher. 

"Hang on," he protested. "Wait, ch-changed my mind, come here."

"Mm, nope! Go shower." You cupped his jaw, feeling him swallow hard. "Get cleaned up. I'll be here when you get out."

"Stay...stay at the sink?" He bargained. You could hear him fumbling with something, probably his leggings. 

"Absolutely." You kissed his nose. "Now go shower, you smell like wet Wookie." 

He embraced you without warning, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pressing his cock against your stomach. "Wait for me." He requested, the kiss that followed absolutely voracious. You clung to his shoulders, rendered helpless under the attack of his mouth. 

"Y-Yeah, 'course." You stammered when you could think again.

He took your wrist and led you forward until you could touch the sink, and then he got into the shower. "When did you wake up?" He asked after he had keyed the shutter closed. 

You opened your eyes and leaned back on the sink, tapping your chin. "It's been about...three days?"

He swore under his breath and you heard a metallic rattle. "Shit, c'mon, stupid-" The water abruptly burst on and he yelped. You couldn't stifle your laughter, though you did try. "So glad my pain amuses you." He groused through the divider. "Here I was, coming back to my ship all torn up, thinking that you were gone forever and that I'd never see you again."

His words were annoyed but you could hear the soft sadness in his tone. "I think I've made it abundantly clear that I don't know how to leave you behind." You replied gently. "Plus, bacta tank time isn't exactly cheap."

He scoffed, "Yeah, we need to talk about that. Later. Once we're in a proper headspace for it." He was silent for several minutes, the only noise the running water of the shower and the thunder of the rain overhead. "I don't...look, the bacta doesn't fucking matter. I'm just...I'm glad you came back," he muttered finally. "Glad I didn't ruin everything like I thought I did."

"You've got an uphill battle ahead of you, Din." You luxuriated in saying his name, though your words were ultimately serious. "Why didn't you tell Cara the truth? She said she yelled at you pretty bad."

"I did tell her the truth." Din sighed. "Look, I hurt you. You can't say that I didn't. Physically, emotionally...wounding happened. You didn't feel welcome to stay anymore and I sure as hell didn't give you a reason to." There was a quiet thud. "I knew she would rip me apart and honestly, I think I needed that to parse everything. But stars, that woman took the paint off."

You grimaced. You could only imagine the awful things she had (probably) shouted at him. You heard the shower turn off and you shut your eyes again, tilting your head at the sound of the shutter sliding.

"Mm, I could get used to this." He murmured. All you got for a warning was the rustle of a towel and then, he was on you. His mouth claimed your own and he chuckled when your hands immediately found his damp hair. "You really like that, huh?" He commented, sounding amused.

"Listen, I've been through enough. Let me have this." You complained, yanking playfully at his shaggy locks and laughing when he grunted. 

"You keep it up and I'll let you have a lot more than just that." He threatened, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He then grabbed the hem of your tunic, stripping it up off your body to leave you there in your breast wrap. The breathy noise he made was enough to have you flushing hot; you could almost feel him looking at you. "Maker, I don't deserve this." He whispered as he pressed his palm to the faint scar on your side. "Any of this. Over this...half a fucking cycle, I kept thinking that I must have made you up. That there's no way someone like you could even be real."

He sounded reverent again and it made your head spin, it had you gripping his shoulders while he slid down your body to peel your pants off. The mental image of him naked on his knees in front of you--

Stars, you wished you were brave enough to open your eyes.

One large hand slipped between your thighs, urging you open with the gentle press of his other hand hooked right above your knee. "Let me see you, let me see." He breathed, his fingers groping forward until they encountered your slick. You squirmed a little, hoping that he wasn't put off by how wet you already were. You couldn't really help it, of course. "Oh, fuck, you're s-so--you're dripping for me, fuck." 

"D-Din…" Your fingers were in his curls again, and you gave a gentle tug. 

His tongue-

You felt the inquisitive, flat press of it against your cunt and you gasped out, quickly tilting your face up so that you wouldn't see him if you accidentally opened your eyes. Wait, if he's not supposed to take off his helmet--

Your thoughts ground to a halt when he moaned from between your thighs, wedging his shoulder in to keep your legs apart. "Taste--t-taste so-" he mumbled, laving sloppily over your clit. "Good, fuck. Good." His fingers spread you wide, allowing him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts. You knew you ought to be embarrassed about being splayed open like this, but you couldn't seem to muster up the feeling over the sensations you were being gifted.

Din was clearly spurred on by your enthusiasm if his sounds were any indication, his already limited words dissolving into soft growls and rumbles as he ate you out. 

That wasn't exactly the correct term for what he was doing, really. He was devouring you, his nose clumsily bumping into your clit with every other motion, his hands trembling as he tried to keep you still under his ministrations. You thought it couldn't get any better, but then his tongue licked inside of you and you couldn't help the way your voice broke when you cried his name, one hand flying up to cover your mouth. Having your eyes closed did nothing but intensify the feeling of surrender, you were his prey and he was hungry.

The snarl that he let out in reply had you quivering, his tongue fucking your cunt almost lazily. He was teasing now, drawing it out. "Beg me." He slurred, smiling against you. "Beg."

"Please--oh f-fuck, please, please-" you whimpered, almost in tears when he backed away.

"Please…?" He trailed off and you abruptly understood what he was waiting for.

"Please, Din, p-please make me come." You begged pitifully, your hips twitching as they sought out his mouth. 

"One more time?" He implored, groaning after you fisted your hands in his shaggy curls again.

"Please, Din, please let me come, p-please, please--" Your voice cracked when he hitched your leg up over his shoulder and buried his face in your cunt. He locked his hot, wet mouth around your clit, rubbing his tongue down on it in a focused attack that had your knees buckling, chest heaving, nails digging into his scalp and-

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was not a man who did anything by halves.

You fell apart, soaking his tongue with your orgasm as you sobbed out his name again and again. He moaned hungrily, the noise sending vibrations through your sensitive sex and making you shudder while he continued to move his mouth, continued to gently lick at your cunt and lap up your come. 

"Are you alright?" He asked cautiously once he finally took pity on you and let you catch your breath. 

"'Am I alright', like you didn't just take my soul out of my body with your tongue." You panted.

"Yeah?" There was a smile in his voice. "Alright." With a quiet grunt, he got to his feet. "Wasn't sure if I'd be any good at it, but-" You cupped his jaw, delving your tongue into his mouth to catch a taste of yourself. He choked a little, obviously startled when you bit down on his lower lip and tugged it gently. "You...more?" He queried, sounding hopeful. 

"Yes, absolutely yes." You answered breathlessly. He hesitated for a second, his arm brushing your shoulder on its way by. 

"There. Turn around and open your eyes."

You did so, stumbling a little on your still-unsteady legs. When you blinked your eyes open you realized that he had opened the tiny mirrored cabinet over the sink, effectively rendering the reflective surface harmless. You wanted to feel disappointed, but you knew that he would do it in his own time, on his own terms.

His hands roamed up your body, unraveling the binding that you had to support your breasts. They fell into his palms and he exhaled harshly in your ear, the heated air making you shiver all over as he pressed himself to your back. He toyed with your breasts inquisitively, squeezing them and teasing your nipples with his calloused fingers until you were writhing back against him, wordless pleas making their way out of your throat. "What? I didn't catch that." He murmured in your ear, roughly sinking his teeth into the shell of it and making you keen loudly. "Something you want?" 

"Din-" you protested, leaning a little further forward in obvious invitation. He fell silent and the head of his cock rubbed against your pussy, coating the shaft with your slick. Agonizingly slow, he pressed in until his tip was inside you.

"Hah, f-uck, you're…" His forehead hit the space between your shoulder blades and stayed there as you squirmed, trying to push back onto him. "Mmfuck, I have t-to be...y' tight, cyar'ika, breathe-" 

"Sorry--" you whimpered, startled when he nipped at your shoulder.

"Don't f-fucking apologize, don't y' dare--" Din stammered indignantly, "gripping me like a f-f-ucking vice, don't want to hurt you." His hands smoothed down over your hips and he clumsily repositioned you, arching your back a bit more to open you up. 

You exhaled and you heard him grunt in what sounded like relief. He then penetrated you fully in one long, smooth thrust, the mass of him punching the rest of the breath out of your lungs and leaving you grasping blindly at the sink for something to anchor yourself. His cock was so thick, you felt like it was searing your insides and branding you as his forever. 

Your Mandalorian.

You shakily pushed yourself up and wrapped your arm around his neck to support your body as he began to stroke into you against the sink, your eyes sliding closed before you could glimpse him in your periphery. 

His lips pressed to your cheek and one hand groped over your stomach until his palm ground down on your pubic mound, sending stars across your vision and making you whine out his name. You tilted your head back down to stare dazedly at his arms around you, watching the way his musculature coiled and bunched with every thrust. Maker, he was strong. 

Din kept your back pinned tightly to his chest, giving you his cock without mercy as he rambled disjointedly in your ear about how much he had missed you, about how much he craved you, how much he needed you-

"I-I love--" His voice faltered, then he gritted his teeth. "I l-love you, y--you know that, r-right?" Din blurted out desperately. 

"I--" the breath caught in your throat, due in no small part to the man currently fucking you into sweet oblivion. "-love you." You managed to say, closing your eyes and knocking the side of your head into his. 

He made a pained noise, one hand reaching forward. "Open--open your eyes. P-Please, please open 'em." He begged. 

"Are you-"

"Fuck, fuck fuc-k-k I need it pl-ease," Din cried, his voice rasping and then cracking. "Need you to see, need you to see, need it need it need it--"

The sound of his breathless, sobbing entreaty was more than enough to convince you to oblige him, and so (eventually) your eyes fluttered open.

It took a minute, but you managed to focus on the now-closed cabinet in front of you. The mirrored surface revealed the man that you had saved, the man who had, in turn, saved you. 

He had his eyes downcast, no doubt transfixed by the sight of his cock splitting you open again and again. His hair was shaggy; brown, a few grays peppered in here and there. Heavy, furrowed brow, square jawline, full lips currently pressed together in a concentrated grimace. Several fresh-looking scrapes and bruises littered his face. His nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken several times, but that wasn't surprising. Mandalorian helmets, for all their protection, did sport incredibly flat fronts.

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was devastatingly attractive even beneath the armor.

"Hey," You breathed and he jerked his head up, dark, dark brown eyes meeting your own for the first time. You were abruptly breathless, and not simply because his cock felt like it was making itself at home in your chest cavity. You curled your fingers weakly on the nape of his neck, the motion almost a wave. "You could have w-warned me that the helmet was for my protection, not yours."

He tilted his head to the side, illustrating his confusion even without the helmet to mask his expression. His hips pressed to your rear almost idly, rutting his cock as deeply in you as it could possibly reach.

"Didn't expect you to be so h-andsome." You gasped, a guttural cry leaving your lips when he shifted his weight to drag his cock back out of you.

His smile was incredibly shy, an awkward little tilt of his lips before he buried his face against your shoulder blade again. Maker, was he...was he blushing? 

You had made a Mandalorian blush. While he was pounding you into the next cycle, no less. You could feel the temperature difference of his face and you giggled, your breath hitching.

"Don't--don't laugh at m-me, dammit." He grunted. "Not while...I'm f-fucking you like this--"

"Not--at you," you panted. "I j-just love you, that's all."

He choked on his next breath and his tempo stuttered, that thick cock throbbing inside you. "Who do y-you love?" He whispered, his hands fondling your breasts.

"Din Djarin." You replied quickly, arching your back a little more.

"Ah--a-and I love--I love you." He groaned. "So...so much." He slid his hand down again, spreading your cunt open so he could play with your clit. You could hear how wet you were, and it filled you with a delight that was borderline shameful. "Come on me. Want you t-to...f-ucking soak me, soak my cock, c'mon." He demanded hotly in your ear, making brief eye contact with you in the mirror. His look was smoldering, burying itself in the hungry tension that teemed in your groin. "I can feel you, fucking squeezing me every t-time I talk, so come, come on me--"

Your clit was unbearably sensitive from your earlier orgasm, every motion of his body sending shockwaves through you. You squirmed and writhed but he had you trapped, safe and secure and begging you to submit to the pleasure he wanted to give you. It was almost too much to bear; you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you finally succumbed with a primal growl.

Din didn't stop, though. He fucked you through your orgasm, fucked you into the blinding delight of overstimulation and pressed the heel of his palm down onto your pubic mound once more. You could feel his cock twitching, could feel how tense his thighs had gotten, Maker you could feel everything and it was a blissful torture. Thoroughly strung out, all senses ablaze, you begged him to come.

"I want to, I want to, gedet'ye I w-want to so fucking badly, I want--" Din chanted. Without any ceremony, he thrust his fingers into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue, urging you to extend it and lick his fingers. You obliged almost automatically and he dragged his now wet fingertips down your chest to roll and tweak your nipples hard.

You clenched down on him without conscious input, your pussy in spasm around his cock as the cool air combined with his rough little tugs to rouse and torment your breasts. You sobbed out his name again and again, pleading for relief and praying it never came all at once.

He met your eyes in the mirror, pupils blown wide and his mouth just barely open, and-- "Oh, fuck." He choked. "I love you." And then he came, wrapping an arm around your midsection to keep you firmly planted in the shuddering cradle of his thighs. He bucked into you over and over and you knew you were dead weight but you couldn't bring yourself to move, moaning helplessly in his trembling grip. "Ner, mine." He grunted. 

"Mmhm." You breathed, too beyond words to function at this point in time. 

He let out a breathless chuckle, threading his fingers through your hair. "You're mesh'la, beautiful. My beautiful little mudhorn." He sighed.

"Again...with that name." You replied haltingly, the air slowly returning to your lungs. He slung both of his arms around your waist, holding you tight to his chest once more. You were bewildered by your body's reaction, aftershocks hitting hard enough to make your legs shake. "Couple of things that come to mind when I think of a mudhorn." You continued after a few deep, deep breaths. "Beautiful and little are definitely not among them. I tend to think big, and dangerous. So you know. You."

"I remember the first time I thought of you like that." He murmured in your ear. "You had just killed seven raiders. I came into the hut and you were ready to kill me too."

"Oh...oh." You trailed off, flushing slightly. "I-I wouldn't have, you know I wouldn't."

"Mm, I'm not so sure." He exhaled into your ear, making you squeak. "It was intense. I...I'm pretty sure that was it for me. Fought for so long, y'know, but it was useless. You took my heart with that look, cyar'ika."

"You really...I mean, you thought about me like that?" You asked shyly. And it was an insane thing to be shy about, considering the fact that his cock was still inside you. "You mentioned some things the last time we...uh, got involved, but I assumed you were just saying stuff to get me excited."

"I don't know how to talk like that." He answered you bluntly.

"That's a lie." You retorted. "You told me you fucked your hand thinking about me!"

"Mmmultiple times." He drawled the 'm' out in a self-satisfied manner, kissing down the side of your neck.

"That's not you just trying to say something...y'know, to get me worked up?" 

"I said it because it's true." He muttered, "should I...should I not say things like that?"

"No, no, you definitely should!" You backtracked quickly. "It's just...it's nice to know that you were thinking about me even before I was...well, masturbation material. It's nice that you saw me, I guess I should say."

"I always saw you." He breathed, his fingers sliding up the side of your neck to tilt your head so he could kiss your cheek. "Saw you play with the younglings. Saw how you took care of the kid. Saw how you protected him. Saw how you took care of me."

Your flush was a raging inferno at this point.

"I don't remember a lot about the...whole situation with Ran's group. Xi'an's poison threw me off my track pretty good. But I remember…" Those brown eyes half-lidded as he collected his thoughts. "Remember you singing to me."

"You asked me to." You whispered. 

"I don't mind that memory. Out of all the ones that I have, it's one of the few that isn't shit." Din mused, adding, "today's nice too, don't get me wrong. No deadly neuro-toxins to take the edge off either." He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying you gently back and forth as you watched him in the mirror. Stars, you were still a little tongue-tied at how handsome he was. "I need you to promise me something, stowaway." 

"What is it?"

"Don't you e-ever try to fucking die on me again." His voice cracked, "okay?" He dropped his forehead against your shoulder. "Please."

"Din…" You said softly, stroking your fingers through his hair.

"Just...just promise me that." He choked out. "If you get hurt, fucking tell me. If something happens, if…shit, if something goes wrong, please--please, don't hide from me. I'm sorry f-for...I'm sorry that I...I fucked everything up. I'm so sorry. All I've been able to think about is how much you m-must hate me. You were almost killed because you were pulling my stupid, stupid ass out of the fire."

"Hey, hey. You literally told me to stay out of Guild business. You can't blame yourself for my inability to follow your instructions." You protested, nudging your head against his. "I'm an adult and I take full responsibility for my own stupidity when it comes to you, okay?"

One large hand trailed down to skim the scar from the blaster wound and he huffed, sniffling quietly. He pulled your hips back more firmly into the seat of his pelvis, shifting his weight a little. "All heart and no fucking armor to defend it." He managed to say.

"You've got more than enough for the both of us." You replied gently. Then, you whimpered as he palmed over your breasts again, his fingers tugging your nipples mercilessly. "How are you still-"

"Missed you." He rasped, his words husky with longing and unshed tears. "You're so warm. Sensitive. I love...I love you. Don't want to stop touching you."

"Din--" Your voice broke as he rolled his hips, his cock hilted in you deliciously.

"Mm, one more? Maybe?" He begged.

"I don't know if my legs are going to last that long." You confessed. "Or the rest of me, to be honest."

"If it's too much for you, I'll stop." He breathed in your ear. "Can tell me to stop and I'll stop."

"I don't want you to stop, but I'm just-"

"'But' means you need me to stop." Din interjected softly. "I'll stop." 

"Wait, wait, it's just that--I'm-!" Your orgasm struck without warning as he attempted to withdraw, the drag of his cock over your spot making your vision briefly white out from the overload. You shuddered and writhed, the pleasure nearly to the point of pain as your inner walls clutched at his cock. You couldn't help the way your nails raked into his arm, clawing for purchase.

You vaguely heard him moan, "oh, f-fuck--" the words nothing but a gravelly rumble. He struggled to keep pulling out, rambling about how tight you were like he couldn't even help it. "Easy, easy cyar'ika--relax, relax relax. You grip me so--f-ucking-"

"Sorry, sorry-" you sobbed, your words catching in your throat as you felt the head of his cock finally leave your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. It was like a breath of relief and anguish all at once; you were too sensitive to handle more but you had missed him so much-

He tipped your chin back with one hand, kissing your forehead clumsily as he dragged his other hand over the inside of your thighs. "Mm, shh, no apologies. Gonna' come." He slurred through gritted teeth. "Right here, just l-like this, using your come to fuck my hand. You ready? Ready for my come?" 

Your words failed you at his declaration and all you could do was nod, drowsily meeting his gaze in the mirror. His breath hitched again, like he was startled. It was wildly endearing to know you had that sort of effect on him. "Love you." You whispered, propping yourself up with your elbows on the sink to enjoy the show.

"Hnn, f-fuck, fuck-" he panted, "that's not fair. With the eyes too? N-Not--not fair, you can't do that."

You just smiled sweetly, arched your back and he lost it. His release hit the small of your back and you listened to him gasp and grunt his way through his orgasm with an exhausted tremor of delight. He came for what seemed like an eternity to you (and him as well, if his voice dissolving into a broken, raspy growl had anything to say about it). 

"You make the nicest sounds." You complimented him once he seemed to be able to breathe again. 

"Wh...What?" Din croaked after clearing his throat several times. 

"Your voice. It's nice. I like it."

"Um…huh." His fingers absently smeared the come on the small of your back. He appeared to be at a loss for words. "I should...uh. Get a...something. Gotta' clean. Don't move. I...yeah, don't move." He said finally, awkwardly clearing his throat again and avoiding your eyes in the mirror.

"Helmet back on?" You suggested. He froze, looking a little guilty. "Hey, no. It's part of your life. It's who you are. Don't ever worry about putting it back on, okay?"

"I'm sorry." He mumbled. 

You swatted his leg. "What did I just say? Listen to me when I talk!" You chided. 

"I know, I just-"

"Nope! Nope. You're more comfortable with it on, right? You're used to it. That's how your world is and that's fine." You assured him. "I'm a new addition. That's only if you want to keep me around, of course."

"Don't you dare say something like that." He grumbled, obviously bashful. "'Course I want you around. I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight for at least a week."

"Is that...possessiveness I detect in your tone, Djarin?" You asked in mock surprise. "I didn't think you had it in you!"

He scoffed, shaking his head and then walking through the bay to pick his helmet up from its forlorn place next to the loading ramp. "More like soul-crushing anxiety over your wellbeing, but that too I guess." He grunted after donning his familiar headgear. He padded back over to the fresher, reaching into the shower and scooping up a washcloth.

The water was cold and you yelped, making him flinch. "Fuck, what, a-are you alright?" Din stammered, palms cupping your hips gingerly.

"Could have used warm water." You squeaked, wriggling a little in an effort to shake off the chill. 

He breathed a sigh. "Maker, don't...don't fucking scare me like that." He muttered, obligingly running the cloth under the hot water tap. "I thought I hurt you."

"No no, it was just cold. Sorry." You apologized, feeling a little sheepish. The cloth was barely lukewarm when he laid it back on your skin, but it was absolutely better than it had been the first time. 

His motions were clumsily tender, like he wasn't used to being careful. When he moved lower to run the cloth over the inside of your thighs, he slowed to rub circles on your still-trembling muscles. "Maker, I...you're shaking." 

"Yeah, you kind of gave me a workout." You teased, turning your head to smile at him over your shoulder. "Also, I think I'm still supposed to be taking it easy. According to that nurse, anyway."

"You're what." 

"Supposed to...uh, you know what? Never mind." You tried to brush it off, but he rose to his full height and wrapped his arms back around you.

"If you're supposed to be taking it easy," he growled in your ear, modulated voice sending that familiar tremor through your body, "I shouldn't have just railed you against the fucking sink."

"Hey, I needed that. You did too. Don't act like you didn't, Djarin." You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry at him. 

Din shook his head, tapping the helmet against your temple. "I wouldn't have made you stand. Would have...would have laid you down or something." He eased your full weight against his chest. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. A little achy and stiff, but that's okay." He hummed disapprovingly in his throat, tugging you back a step from the sink. You flung your arm around his neck, clinging to him as your legs tried to dump you on the ground. "Not hurt!" You insisted when you heard his breath hitch. "I promise. Just well-fucked."

"Still. You can barely stand. We need to lay you down." He murmured, smoothing his palm over the top of your head. "You want the bunk?"

"No, we can't both fit in there." You tightened your hold on him without meaning to. Don't go. 

"I don't want you to be on the floor if you're hurt." He protested.

"I don't want to be alone." You hated how your voice cracked. "Please, Din. Not right now."

"Oh. Oh. Alright, I...alright. I didn't mean...I just didn't want you to--the floor isn't comfortable." Din fumbled to say, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. 

"I lived with it before, I can definitely manage it now." 

The jaw contour of his helmet gently pressed to your cheek like a kiss. "Okay. Give me...I'll get some more blankets together or something. You stay still." He ordered sternly, patting your hip. "Stay."

Your laugh was a little shaky. "I'm not the kid, y'know." 

Din grumbled something under his breath, sounding exasperated.

…

You had no idea that he even possessed this many blankets. You blinked down at the pile, certain you recognized a few blue ones from your stay on Sorgan. 

"Something most people don't know about Mandalorians is that we build nests." Din informed you, his voice utterly deadpan.

"You are...a liar." You sputtered, giggling when he nuzzled his helmet into the crook of your neck. You had taken a quick shower while he was distracted by his nest building, so your skin was still warm and a little damp. His beskar squeaked slightly at the moisture.

"I could be lying, yes. But I might also be telling the truth." He reasoned, tugging you down to settle on the floor. 

"This is the Way, right?" You teased, cupping the sides of his helmet. He stilled and your smile slipped a notch as you remembered the way you had thrown the phrase in his face, how heartbroken he had sounded when he begged you to wait. 

Hesitantly, his hands raised to cover your own. "This is the Way." He intoned quietly, pressing his forehead against yours before continuing, "With you. I'm never leaving you behind. Ever again." 

"My Mandalorian." You whispered, relief making your eyes slide closed. "Thank you, Din."

He breathed, "Thank you for loving me," his tone unbearably soft even through the modulator. "Thank...thank you for saving me, my little mudhorn."

Your chuckle was a bit more watery than you would have liked. "That pet name is going to take some getting used to." You stroked the sides of his helmet. "Luckily, I'll have plenty of time to do so." You proceeded to press your thumb to his sternum, drawing it downwards. He did the same to you and you could feel the affection he had for you radiating through the delicacy of his touch when he softly tapped his fingers to your lips. "I promise." You whispered, your own fingers making a dull ringing sound on his beskar helmet. 

He just...stared down at you for several long moments. Long enough for you to half-lid your eyes again, lashes sweeping down as you focused your gaze self-consciously on his knees.

Slowly, slowly, his hand extended, and you could see it shaking ever so slightly in your peripheral for a second. "I share my name with you." Din slid his index finger down your jaw. "I share my face with you." He trailed his hand across your visage from temple to chin, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. "I share my body with you." He cupped his palm tenderly over the top of your left breast (no doubt feeling the way that your chest heaved excitedly under his touch). "I share...I share my heart with you." He murmured, threading his fingers through your own and raising them to his chin. "This is a riduurok bond. An oath that I swear to you. It's...it's very important." His sentence dissolved into a bit of a mumble, but you still heard him when he stammered, "s'a marital...l-love bond."

"Oh." You replied dumbly, before erupting with, "oh! Oh, you're--oh wow, stars, okay. What...uh, what do I have to say in return? To say yes?!" You rushed to ask, certain your eyes had gone glassy with tears.

"If...um, if you accept, y-you just...repeat what I said, and the gestures." Din seemed flustered by your enthusiastic reply, his hand trembling in your grip. "You...you really-?"

You tapped your index finger to the apex of his jaw contour and he fell silent. There was no possible way he could feel your touch through the armor, and yet you were still incredibly careful. "I share my name with you, Din." You breathed, your finger gliding over the beskar without so much as a sound. You then gently, so gently, rested your palm on the flat front of his visor. "I share my face with you, Din." 

"Maker, yes." He sighed, knocking his forehead roughly into your palm before you swept it down over his face like he had done for you. 

Your fingers splayed above his left pectoral, digging in a bit more than you needed to. "I share my body with you, Din." He shifted restlessly under your touch and you could feel your cheeks ache with how hard you were smiling as you took his hand in your own. Turning it over, you scrutinized his bruised knuckles with a soft noise of distress. Then, you raised his fingers to your lips and kissed every bruise, every battered knuckle, every scar that crisscrossed his olive skin.

"Please," Din begged brokenly, his voice nothing but a breathy groan. "P-Please."

You obliged him without hesitation, tapping your joined fingers against your chin with an air of solemn finality as you stated, "I share my heart with you, Din."

From his spot on his knees facing you, Din all but fell forward, cradling the back of your head with one hand as he pressed you down into the soft cocoon of blankets with his weight. "You precious...mesh'la...stars, you mean so fucking much to me." He gritted out, his voice almost pained while he framed your hips with his thighs. "So much, so much I don't know enough Basic for it. You are fucking healing, mirjahaal, you are rain, pitat, you are soft, pel, you are fucking stunning, kandosii'la, you a-are--you are dral, ner cabur, ner haal, you are...haar'chak, osi'kyr, I always lose my words." He growled in frustration, resting his forehead against your own. "My mouth can't even try to whisper what my heart screams. M'not used to talking so much." He admitted, sounding defeated.

"I hear you anyway." You assured him softly. Din raised his head, leveling that visor with your eyes. 

"How?" He asked desperately.

"I hear you when you speak with your hands. I hear you when you speak with your concern. I hear you...I h-hear you when you speak with your body." Your breath hitched and your eyes closed as he rolled that body against your own in one long, sensual grind. "I don't need you to talk if you can't. I hear you just fine, I promise." You managed to finish, even with his deliciously-distracting form stretched languidly over you.

"Then," Din hesitated. His hand sought out the scar on your side yet again, fingers caressing the marked skin. "I…I love you." He mumbled.

"I know, Din." You smiled warmly up at him. "I love you too." He ducked his head against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide his face despite already wearing a helmet. "Don't be shy!"

"I'm not shy, I-I'm…" 

"You're not used to this. It's new. That's okay." You cupped the back of his helmet. "I'll be here to help you figure it out. The kid and I." 

"You are my aliit, my clan. I'll...I'll keep you two safe, I promise. K'oyacyi." He choked out, his hand trembling when he drew the circle on your chest and rubbed his knuckles gently in the center. "My armor for you and the kid. My whole body. Anything you need." 

You slipped your legs out from beneath his thighs and opened them a little wider, letting him relax down into the sheltered harbor of your embrace. "Shh," you soothed, running your palms up and down his tense back. "Everything is fine. All we need is you. We're safe. You're safe with me. You can rest, sweetheart."

Din sighed, digging his hands into the blankets beneath your back. "Safe." He slurred. "Can't lay on y' though. Too heavy...lemme'..." He clumsily grappled with your body, somehow managing to roll the two of you over without accidentally braining you with his helmet. "Better." He grunted, threading his fingers through your hair and resting your head on his chest. "Should...put my suit back on."

"Five minutes." You bargained, stroking down the line of his visor. "Would you like me to sing for you?"

"...mmhm." He agreed through a yawn, his head drooping when he nodded. "Five...f-ive…"

You smiled as you listened to him struggle against sleep to try and talk to you, his breathing finally evening out after a few more minutes of incoherent mumbling. You pressed a careful kiss to his forehead and then snuggled down against his chest. "Stars fading, but I linger on dear...still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger 'til dawn dear, just saying this…" You half-whispered, your words petering out as you too succumbed to the allure of slumber.

The future was uncertain but, if only for this brief moment in time, the two of you found solace in the other's presence.

Stay safe, sweetheart. K'oyacyi, cyar'ika.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #at long last #the happy ending #oh they fockin #welcome! #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #I still don't know how to tag this I'm so sorry #eventual romance #eventual happy ending #star wars #you have slogged through enough #it's indulgence time bois #it's so long i'm so sorry #enjoy!

[fuzziemutt]

Do You Understand ?

Chapter 8/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: One more apology to go...

tw: unhealthy thinking. This one is also much lighter than the previous.

Connor took a deep breath. His coin flicked back and forth, leg bouncing methodically, body thrumming with an added anxious energy he wasn’t expecting to feel. He was just going to talk to Hank, Hank would... understand. Sure the old man got upset when Connor did anything “stupid” (or died) but everything would be fine. 

He was in an automated taxi making its way to the Ambassador Bridge where, on a whim, he messaged Hank he would meet up with him in two hours. The meeting with the leaders was just yesterday and it spurred him to fix things with Hank while he still felt (brave) optimal enough to do so. Nines wasn’t with him this time; he thought of asking him to join, but Connor felt this was too personal and had to do it on his own. He really hoped he didn’t regret this.

Arguably, this really wasn’t a good time to do this. Connor warily glanced out the window for the 50th time, watching the way the snow piled ever higher with the clouds threatening to release more of the terrible substance. Usually he was able to keep his stress levels relatively low, low being closer to 50 than 20 if he was honest, ever since the snow started up again roughly a month ago. However, today’s weather with the meeting from yesterday, the looming anniversary of his second deployment, and now his self assigned meet up with Hank didn’t help how nervous he felt about this all. He should have asked to meet at Hank’s house, but he felt that was crossing an invisible boundary even if he still kept Hank’s house key on him at all times. 

But he had to do this now as he knew he would go back to hiding if he didn’t, so he just kept pushing the fridgid memories down.

Before long, the taxi rolled to a stop, perfectly parked, uncaring of the android who needed another minute of breathing and rapid coin flicks till he climbed out. Hank wasn’t there yet, but Connor pushed down the spike of panic. The roads were still being cleared from the morning snow, it was fine, Hank also was human and couldn’t predict just how long it took to get everywhere. It was going to be fine. He needed to be careful with his stress levels today.

He made his way over to the bench he hasn’t seen in a long time. With that energy still thrumming, he went about pacing, almost jogging to get rid of the excess energy. He was all alone so he didn’t worry too much about being caught and just kept an eye out for that familiar Oldsmobile. The moment he caught its grey color getting closer, he made himself go and sit down on the bench staying as still as possible. He tried to not look too tense and instead inviting, he didn’t want to set Hank off about his internal struggles. This was about them, not about his past after all.

“Was kinda surprised to see your text,” a gruff voice said after the tell tale thunk of a car door closing. It sounded like Hank was trying to lighten the mood with the awkward laugh that followed, but the lack of response made the silence return. 

Hank came into Connor’s view not too long after that, awkward shuffling before he settled on the bench next to him. A bit of space between the two. Connor wasn’t sure where to start. Who should be apologizing here? He felt like he was supposed to be for some reason despite Hank having been the one who hurt him. This was confusing. Maybe he should have asked Nines to come with…

“So.. what’s up?” Hank offered up after a couple minutes. He was clearly uncomfortable if the way he kept glancing at Connor and his hands kept messing with his jacket said anything.

“I… I’m not sure how to go about this.”

“Go about what exactly?”

“This? I want… to fix our relationship.. I miss. I miss our conversations… and Sumo,” Connor ventured very unsure where to go. He added the last bit to lighten the mood, but it was also the truth. He hasn’t seen the dog since he moved out. 

Hank nodded and sat there thinking. He would be better at going about this Connor didn’t doubt.

“I won’t lie. I’m not the best at ‘emotional stuff’ like this, but I can see you’re strugglin’ so…” 

A chin scratch then throat clearing, “I know deviancy hasn’t been the easiest on you especially from what I could tell Cyberlife was like. I don’t know what happened that made you shut us all out for so long though. Would you mind telling me what the hell happened at that meeting before we go any further?” 

Oh. Oh yeah he never told Hank what happened did he? He knew Hank talked to Markus.. He didn’t think Markus would have left it vague. He honestly thought the leader would have laid out all the details for everyone to see. Interesting. He’s just stalling for time now.

“I wasn’t lying about how we were discussing what we would be doing with the androids that react negatively towards humans. I was suggesting that we make safe zones where humans would not be able to enter when North got upset,” Connor felt his hands clench together and nose wrinkle a bit, “She went on saying how I had no place in the conversation as I never supposedly have had bad relations with humans since I was so close to you. She said how I would never be able to.. Understand… their struggles.”

He let himself close his eyes and take a breath before continuing. There was no point in getting himself worked up again here.

“For the past several months, I’ve been treated time and time again like I have no say in anything. As if I never experienced emotions or the extent of cruelty humans can have. The constant use of that word it.. I felt something snap inside of me, and I let out my anger on them. I was too upset from months of frustration to stop myself. Afterwards, in a way I saw to protect myself from that horrible feeling, I shut everyone out.” 

He couldn’t stand to look at Hank anymore, taking up staring at the river instead. The river didn’t have eyes that could hold judgement. Distantly he was a bit surprised he managed to even say all of that so steadily.

“I see. Is that why you uhh.. Moved out of the house so quickly?” 

“Partially…” he caught a hand motioning ‘go on’ in the corner of his visuals. 

“You also did it. Using the word and discounting me. I mean. I wanted to be alone to process what happened and keep myself safe as mentioned, but I.. I didn’t want to do the same thing to you as well. So I left before I made anything worse.”

Connor closed his eyes ready for some sort of reprimand. He wasn’t sure why he expected to get punished when Hank had asked what happened, but he couldn’t help the dread that was sitting in his already anxious internal cavity. 

A muffled ‘fuck’ caught his attention and he opened his eyes again. Glancing over he saw that Hank was rubbing a hand on his face, looking at the ground with some sort of expression Connor couldn’t place. His eyes suddenly glanced up, looking into Connor.

“Look, kid. I’m sorry for what I’ve said,” mentally Connor ticked another mark of hearing the word sorry, “I know I still have my own issues to work through, but I should have watched what I said better. And before you go all ‘you couldn’t have predicted’ or whatever, it’s no excuse. I’m a grown ass man who should have seen how I was hurting you.” 

A sigh and another round of face rubbing. A nervous tick maybe? 

“I’m not going to pull you under the bus either by saying you should have told me you were feeling that way. Because I think we both know that whatever Cyberlife did fucked you up real good, and you never would have said shit as long as you could. So. I fucked up and I can’t guarantee I’ll do better, but I sure as hell will try.” 

Connor let those words settle a bit. He didn’t look as openly sorry as Nines but his eyes spoke more volume. Hank has been there since the revolution. He wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine obviously, he still had bad days and relapses, but he did try. He helped Connor whenever he asked what seemed like obvious questions about emotions and human interactions. He would get Connor’s mind off the past on bad days, awkwardly but still there. 

“I accept your apology. I’m not sure if I can say I can trust you the same amount as before, but I don’t want to push you away anymore.”

Hank’s shoulders slumped in relief a bit and a one sided smile joined it. It didn’t last long as he soon looked around, hesitant about something.

“Would… Would you want to move back in?” 

“No.. not now.. I’m not sure if I ever would like to move back with you, Hank. I miss the feeling of home your house brings me but I.. I’m still scared of getting hurt again. I also enjoy the privacy my apartment brings me.” 

Hank seemed to slump a bit from what he assumed was sad disappointment, but he nodded seriously. 

“I’ll still visit when I get the chance. I wasn’t lying when I said I miss Sumo,” Connor kind of blurted a bit quickly. He didn’t want his friend thinking he was only going to tolerate him at work.

A gruff laugh, “He misses you too, son” and a hand messing up Connor’s gelled hair (which he did not mope about in any sense). 

-

The lingering dread and fear from the snow lasted with him the whole time him and Hank spoke after that. But it wasn’t as overwhelming. Hank didn’t stay much longer, getting up complaining about how he was too old for this shit and needed to get home before his joints shattered which Connor helpfully informed at what temperature that could actually happen. 

Connor did accept the offer for a ride to his apartment. He turned down the offer to see Sumo. He wanted to see the big lump of fur, but he used up a lot of energy trying to keep his stress levels stable all day and wanted to rest by himself for a bit. Hank didn’t take too much offense to it it seems at least.

#i write #dbh #detroit: become human #connor rk800 #hank anderson #connor angst #connor whump

[blankdblank]

Ash Pt 16

Borders of Lothlorien were soon met after letters had been dropped from the ship to Rohan to inform King Thengel of the circumstances surrounding the ship and trips over their lands and what they would learn of the destruction of Mordor. Down between the trees and two rings of the forest into the lake fed by the Anduin River, which was vast and mainly unused and large enough to house the ship the crew lowered and readied to wait until you were able to travel again. With sails folded again small swan ships were moved from the river to the lake to help in the transfer of those off the ship.

Focus of the incredible ship still glowing in its continued power they had no clue or wish to power it down again however shifted to King Thranduil who held your slumbering self on the long walk from the smaller transfer ship up to his usual apartment. His path was certain and his only task while Legolas raced off to share with the guards who were on patrol what had happened with Tauriel right after him, both excited to share the tale with their friends while the other guards spread the word through the others inside the city. All save for Celebrimbor of course, who accepted hold of your chest key that on Mt Doom had fallen off of you in being lifted and raced for the forges to mend or replace altogether the chain that Morgoth’s hands had split the joints next to the clasp.

Safe and sound in Thranduil’s own bed he nestled you ensuring that safely his One could rest and recover through work of the Healer who walked with him had applied more of the healing creams and the Kingfoil water soaked cloths to your wounds. The only stolen action he did take was to slip the rings you had removed back onto their rightful fingers. Not the necklace however he left in its box he slipped back into the outer pocket of the bag he settled on the bedside table. Within earshot however he did remove his armor that was set down quietly on the floor along the wall of the closet beside his boots that enabled him to sit down on the foot of the bed to lean against the post there.

He just wanted to be near you and to be here whenever you did wake up. Even to the extent of taking his supper right there with ample glances up at you to ensure he wouldn’t be seen to be eating and give the hint of carelessly attending to his own hunger and not having thought of you as more than an entertainment while he ate. Legolas and Estel were the only ones to take attention from your sleeping self in their own trip into the apartment after their own meal to sit with him and help him wind down from his obvious fear of your still being in pain. Estel especially made sure to find the yellow dog doll he propped up beside you with a promise to yourself that he would take perfect care of the other until you woke up. Tight as he could the boy hugged you on his path to be led to bed again while miles below the choirs began a song of long awaited joy of peace mirrored by those in Rivendell and the Greater Greenwood who were informed of the news by means of messenger birds.

All through the song and the night Thranduil simply watched your peaceful glow grow while you recovered. Every session each few hours gave Elrond’s smile reason to grow for sign that the bruises and swelling had gone down drastically alongside the cuts that were all but nonexistent. The leg especially with means of removal of your pants under a stray sheet laid over your hips had him relying on memory for its prior location as gentle presses of his finger proved the wound had healed entirely.

Upon being redressed again you were covered and Elrond in a glance out the window stated to his friend, “Morning shall be upon us soon. Perhaps it would be best you bathed before the young Queen should wake.” That had Thranduil’s eyes flinch to him, “Might find herself reluctant for an embrace by the state of you.” Away from the bed Elrond moved mid chuckle to Thranduil’s eye roll and relenting sigh to find his feet accepting of that truth that he was not entirely visually or scented to be appealing.

 *

Hard and fast hands fixed around your neck. Familiar eyes, on the giant’s scarred face that didn’t quite match. Wordlessly his lips moved and in confusion your eyes narrowed in your strain to listen however a flash of red soon found you back on your first night in Ruun where your eyes fixed on the wine glass in the fire lit room you couldn’t see beyond the table at which you sat. It was expected, you to accept the glass and drink. No, the word caught in your throat that again you felt hands fixed around it. Up to your throat your hand moved without a trace of anything there to cause the tightness. A hand on your shoulder from a snap of your head to the figure on your right found you open eyed awake in a backwards slide upright against the headboard on top of the pillows.

Another unknown room had your head timidly turning to scan over the room for details that had your hand lower from the headboard it had pressed against in the tuck of your legs to ease out from underneath the covers. Steadily through the open window covered by thin curtains that floated on the breeze wafting of trees and flowers came in the sound of voices of choirs singing in a language that at least hinted where you might have been brought. Haltingly from the bed you crept to your feet and made your way towards the door to search for where you were. Around the handle when you reached it your hand folded and shifted to ease the wooden barrier back that to the sight of the bare back of Thranduil you slammed it shut perhaps a great deal louder than you had intended.

Smack in the middle of the apartment in the treetops, against the trunk on the slotted floor where drains from the suspended water system for the shower there soaped up with hold of the pull chord handle to the sound of the slammed door Thranduil smirked hopefully to the source of the noise. Only to smile to himself hearing, “Of course you’re naked. Am I ever going to be able to open a door without stumbling upon you naked.”

“I apologize, I had assumed you would sleep longer. I shall endeavor to not have this become a common occurrence whilst we remain in shared dwellings.”

“No, it’s fine. I should have known better than to open a closed door without appointment.” He heard you on your way back to the bed to hide under the covers.

“I am nearly finished and be with you momentarily.”

“Take your time. I am not leaving this bed again. No telling who else I might find naked here.”

That had him chuckle to himself and tug the chord again to finish rinsing off, within five minutes he was toweling off and covered himself with the set of clothes servants from this kingdom had gathered for him and left near to the shower room for when he did choose to bathe. Carelessly he plopped his used towel over the drying bar for used towels and barefoot in his belted robe over a tunic and trousers in all white accented with silver he walked to the bedroom door and opened it. Right away smiling again to the pile of furs that showed where you had hidden. “My Darling Starlight I do apologize. This was not intentional, again.”

From the bed his hand drew back the covers and his knee pressed to the bed and down he sat sideways beside you. Right as you shifted to roll onto your back his body shifted to lean onto the hand he rested on your other side with eyes fixed upon yours after a confirming glance that you were now bruise free in a gentle glow. “Did I scare Estel?”

“No,” he replied to calm the worry in your timid whisper. “You however did terrify me when you leapt off of that ship.”

“Arguments wouldn’t have gotten us anywhere.”

“You are terrified of heights to avoid tours of our treetops and you leapt, off of a ship.”

“I knew my glider would catch me.”

“That puzzles me beyond befuddlement.”

“That was how my father taught me to use them, tossed me over the side.” That had him deeply inhale with clear fury in his eyes he fought to restrain.

“Was there no limit to his cruelty?”

“How you learn to not be afraid to fly, you have to fall. Every father teaches their kids that way.”

“We do not toss our children anywhere beyond a couple feet above our heads to fetch fruit from trees to keep them from climbing above their skills. And never anywhere else out of our reach. I would never dare to have tossed my Little Leaf from a tree to teach him of falling.”

“I do know all of that might give you doubts,”

Hastily he cut you off, “There are no doubts upon my part. You have the chance to create a better future footing for a family, with whomever you choose to marry.”

“Whomever I choose,” you scoffed back making him smirk as you added, “As if you weren’t the one to stab two blades into the back of the giant who had me pinned. And you ruined your cape wouldn’t be honorable to let you do that and then turn you down for courtship,” to the shift of your legs against his side in your move to sit up that had his eyes scan over your face to the serious subject you were touching on.

“Nothing I did obligates you to attach yourself to me,” he replied reluctantly.

“I could say the same to you. But, here we are, feathers in my hair and you all cape-less.” Your eyes sank and his lips parted to the mournful look in your eyes, “Though can’t say I’m very good of a choice, lost my key.” To the tap of your fingers at your neck where the chain used to rest.

Gently he cradled your hand from there luring your eyes to him again, “No, no, Celebrimbor noticed the break in the chain and it is being repaired.” Both of his hands cradled yours now, “And you are not obligated to bind yourself to me in courtship. I swore to you, none shall harm you and be spared my wrath.”

“Well no take backs now, tree heard me say it. No doubt already spreading the word through all its squirrels and winged friends.” That had him chuckle in both amusement and relief. “I am sorry I scared you. I’ll try to keep from facing off with any more giants.”

“You fought brilliantly and were able to bring down figures from our past who none have been known to have been bested with your powers. Now, had we given you lessons on the arts of archery or blades I carry no doubts he would have been afraid to cross your path.”

“He got shot in the neck,”

“Yes, Morgoth is much more than merely a physical being. Any harm to his physical form would be inconsequential. However those chains of yours were a spectacular move to bind him.”

“Well, Pollux is always eager to soar,” his brow arched up, “Pollux is the name of a star, those chains are laced with star ore.”

“Then not only will Tulkas be amused as will Varda when she finds his fea amongst her stars.” He said with a chuckle then he shifted hold of your head to stand up and say, “Come, the sun will be rising soon the public kitchens shall be readying the breakfast that will be prepared in hopes of your awakening. Lord Elrond has been very diligent in checks upon your injuries.” Another glance down to your forearms covered by the sleeves had him say, “Which are all healed and as for your new layers they were changed in a means of cleansing your wounds and to place you in clean layers for your comfort. We ensured you were covered with sheets for your privacy where unnecessary.”

“I wouldn’t suspect any less. I had a habit of waking up after getting hurt in new clothes. I was more shocked alone when I would wake up where I collapsed.” When you straightened up on your feet again you said in a look over his robe that you reached out to touch, “You don’t have any buttons.” Pats down the front where his usual seam of hidden buttons had him chuckle until you found a hidden set of laces near his neck that had you say, “We’re not in Rivendell.”

“No, keen eyes.” he hummed in his turn to guide you towards the door and out of the apartment, “The others will be so pleased that you are in good humor. I know there will be a good many craftsman of the Teleri who would wish to gain insight into skills that went into the crafting of your ship.”

“Well I have a hoard of spare supplies my cousin helped me to pack away for my trip. Spent a good deal of scraps from the junkyard after hearing the King wanted to clear it anyways, so I might be able to dust off some of my journals with the diagrams in them for some smaller ships than mine to shorten the build time.”

“Well that would be incredible news, I am certain-,”

Your hand on his middle and wide eyed stare out of the open front entrance to the apartment came in the instant step against his side that had his smile ease out in amusement to the reaction compared to that daring leap off the ship. Over your head his arm eased and down a bit he crouched guiding your hands he took hold of to loop your arms around his shoulders. “I will carry you, cling tight as you wish.” Impressions ignored you let him lift you to ease your legs around his middle while he kept hold of your legs. A hold that he was proud to keep to grant his possibly still somewhat tired One on the stroll across the walkway where the first of mental warnings from passers by. Each who rippled word to others that the injured Queen was not only awake but being brought down by the King who was mid hushed tour of things that came within view in the pathway and what seemed to be miles of stairs that not once but five times you had checked if you were too heavy for him.

Once on the ground again he lowered and helped you to your feet when he claimed hold of your hand with a smile. “There are some lovely gardens along the way.”

Three gardens were passed through and by the time the fourth was reached the Princes excitedly had come up to see you. Estel especially on Legolas’ shoulders held out the dog doll in his hands he propped on top of Legolas’ head, “I’ve kept your dog safe.”

“Thank you for that,” you said after a quick grin to Legolas.

Estel blurted out after a sharp exhale, “One day I’ll grow big and powerful so one day I can keep you safe if anyone tries to hurt you to get me.”

Thranduil readied to talk only to turn his head to hear you say, “You know, one thing my Gran used to tell me, when you are strong don’t forget to be kind. When you are kind never forget you are strong.”

Plainly he replied, “That’s a circle.”

With a giggle you replied, “Yes, well sometimes I don’t understand it either. But one day if you have to be King I’d rather have you be known for your heart over your blades. Because you have to remember an ounce of kindness is more than a pound of fear.”

Estel asked Thranduil, “But a King needs blades, doesn’t he?”

Proudly in time to join in on this admirable lesson you were expressing he answered the question, “On occasion. However I know you have witnessed myself and Lord Elrond we are not armed constantly. There is a great deal of mercy, kindness and understanding that is a part of a King’s rule. We are the head that guide our people, as well as the shoulders and backbone of support for their troubles and plights of those we welcome into our lands as well. Should you speak from heart to heart and lock eyes with even the lowest ranked people under your charge as your equal with respect your people will thrive amongst your company.”

Estel, “But, then why do you wear swords?”

Thranduil, “Because in this world there are times to protect what you love when it is under threat. There are times when those who are unable to fight must be defended by the strength of our arms.”

Celeborn from behind a tree came into view on a path that joined yours and said, “If you are up to it we may yet find a helpful breeze this afternoon for the flight back.”

His eyes were fixed upon you in the group and you simply nodded, “Sounds good, whenever you’re ready.” After a moment you asked, “How big were your ships? The ones you lost.”

“Roughly 60 feet long. Not much in size compared to yours.”

“Well the size is to help it remain up for over a year,” parting his lips, “14 month race. I was signed up before I got taken. Plus you have to have some girth to take on the creatures around the mountain ranges in an evasion route or the winds would slam you right into a mountain.”

Celeborn, “Well it should be smooth sailing for us today, and we have received word the flowers should be readied for the festival to begin upon the morning after our return hours after the celebratory feast for our victorious endeavor.”

.

The meal was lovely, as was the scenery on the flight back to Rivendell where you landed and powered down your ship you left in the open for admiration by those who didn’t get a good look. However sleep didn’t come easy and with a hand fixed upon the new chain Celebrimbor had to forge for your antler key when he realized the clasp was beyond cooperation in the repair you sat up drafting in a spare journal new designs of smaller sleeker ships. Everyone had done so much for you and you supposed this adventure had led you sideways into a place amongst these people to be useful beyond just a messenger or delivery person.

Soon you would be spread out across the covers in a drowsy droop onto your side when your eyes couldn’t stay open. There was so much to do. Languages to learn, new lands to explore and their people to meet. Ships to build. And now that you had accepted Dew Drop’s offer of courtship whatever that would entail. But for now you would sleep. At least until a choir of birds with alarming greetings to the sunrise seemed to have gathered around your window in a sea of impossible sounds their tiny feathery bodies let free.

All –

@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess​, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

Ash - @devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00​, @lilith15000

#Lothlorien #Healing #Take a Bath #One Last Nightmare #Naked Again #New Beginnings #Thranduil x OC

[beardycarrot]

I, lying awake in bed because that’s how it always is the day before you have something important to do... am going to try to guess what the plot of Bioshock Infinite is, based on what I’ve seen in the first few hours and with knowledge of the other two (and a half?) games. Spoilers for the entire Bioshock series, except maybe Infinite, but I intend to knock it out of the park.

So. The first Bioshock is set in a futuristic (by 1950’s standards) city at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, created by a hardcore libertarian named Andrew Ryan as a way to once and for all live in a society free of government regulation. I won’t get into all the “sea slugs that produce a gene-altering wonder drug” and “child slaves brainwashed to drink corpse blood” stuff; very interesting, very important to the plot, but if I tried to explain the world of Bioshock I’d be lying here typing on my phone until the sun comes up. That stuff aside, the major plot points are that you’re not actually a guy who just happened to crash-land near the entrance to the city but are, in fact, Andrew Ryan’s son, and the guy who’s been guiding you through the city was actually using a Manchurian Candidate-style activation phrase to manipulate you into doing whatever he wanted. It’s a big, mind-blowing reveal (as is the realization that your character is actually about four years old... science fiction, man).

Bioshock 2 didn’t really have any big plot twists... or plot, for that matter ...but it was developed by an entirely different team, while the original’s team also did Infinite, so I’m expecting a return to form. Just as an aside, Bioshock 2 had a short DLC campaign called Minerva’s Den, which had a fantastic story, and a twist that the player can figure out on their own if they’re paying attention. Your goal is to get a very smart computer (for 1968) out of the underwater city and back to the surface so you can use it to cure all the victims of the slug-borne gene manipulation, and you’re guided over radio by the computer’s creator. At the end, you learn that the one guiding you was actually the computer itself, and that you’re its creator, slowly recovering from brainwashing. For the record, the endings to all three of these have made me cry.

So! With those kinds of twists in mind, what am I expecting from Bioshock Infinite? Well, I went into the game only knowing the names of the protagonists, that rather than underwater it was set in a floating sky city, and that there was some kind of religious theming but also a lot of old-timey Americana. As it turns out, the people of this city worship— no, have DEIFIED the founding fathers, and are lead by a man called Father Comstock. I’m pretty sure that name is a reference to the Comstock Act, similar to Andrew Ryan being named after Ayn Rand... but he could actually be called Father Cornstalk and I just haven’t been paying attention.

Anyway. Just a few minutes into the game, I noticed that a statue of Comstock looked suspiciously similar to my character... before deciding that I didn’t actually have that clear of a mental image of my character, they wouldn’t pull the “secret son” thing twice, and as much as I love it there probably isn’t going to be any time travel. Le sigh.

UNTIL!

So, your goal is to get a girl named Elizabeth out of the city, and there is some legitimately weird stuff going on with her prison. Like, they have some of her personal possessions from various points in her life in containment: a teddy bear, a diary, and a bloody cloth labeled “menarche”. Gross. Why would you keep that. Well, when an electric current (or something visually similar) is applied, the bear and diary change color, and the blood disappears from the cloth. The reason I’m not sure if it’s electricity is that there’s some kind of siphon system set up, it looks like a bunch of subwoofers, and it’s absorbing... something? When she sings, maybe? Is the energy being siphoned what changed the quantum states of those objects, or whatever was happening? There was also a chart showing that when she hit puberty... something, really spiked, which is what forced them to build the siphon. I can’t claim to know what’s happening here, but when I finally saw her she was day dreaming about Paris, and.. I guess opened some kind of portal, TO Paris? But then a bus or something barreled towards her, so she quickly closed it. In the couple seconds that the portal was open, I saw the marquee on a movie theater that... well, was in French, but I’M PRETTY SURE said “Return of the Jedi”. I should probably mention that this game is set in 1912. That smells like time travel to me, baby!

So, this is where it gets interesting, and confusing, and complicated. I think Elizabeth is Comstock’s daughter, from various signs and posters about Comstock’s seed being their salvation, and The Lamb of God being locked in the tower, and such... and signs about a “false shepherd” who would try to take her away (again, lots of weird divergent Christian sect stuff). One sign showered the false shepherd’s hand as having the initials AD branded on the back, which the protagonist Booker does indeed have. Before rescuing Elizabeth, Comstock confronts you, and seems to know all about Booker’s past, including his wife Anna (who died in childbirth), and claims to know his future as well. Being a prophet and such. Thing is, the way it’s presented, that whole thing could’ve all been in Booker’s head...? Shortly after rescuing Elizabeth, you run into someone who mistakes her for someone named Annabelle. Hmm HMMM. I’ve also run into a diary by someone named Rosalind Lutece (I think she’s one of the creepy twins who keep popping up everywhere) talking about physics and what sounded like the concept of quantum superpositioning, as well as a little informational kiosk in which she claims quantum mechanics are what enable the city to float. There were also a couple diaries that seemed to imply Elizabeth came from... somewhere else, and a part of her might still be there, or something?

SO. Finally, we get to the part where I theorize on what’s going on. In short... iunno.

Okay, well, I feel like my idea should be obvious by now. I think Comstock might be a future, or ALTERNATE REALITY FUTURE, version of Booker, and Elizabeth is... either a past version of his wife, before she went back in time and married him, or an alternate-reality version of his daughter? But then who is the Annabelle that the girl thought Elizabeth was? Did Booker’s child not die along with his wife, and was secretly wisked away to skytown? Comstock’s wife is consistently referred to as Lady Comstock, but what if her name is Annabelle too? Maybe it’s the same concept as the Heinlein story By His Bootstraps, with the protagonist only realizing that he IS now the old man from the beginning, and has to get his younger self into this weird time loop in order to live the life he’s lead?

I might be going a little off the rails; I mean, I’m pretty sure that the statue of Comstock I saw earlier actually reminded me of Handsome Jack, a character from another game I haven’t played who happens to wear an outfit similar to Booker’s. That said, there’s DEFINITELY some kind of time travel or dimension-hopping shenanigans going on here. There are good writers on this game, and I refuse to believe the Annabelle/Anna thing is a Batman v Superman-level coincidence.

The weird part is that in the tower where they were keeping Elizabeth, they have documentation of her dating back to one year old, so she was clearly exhibiting... something, unusual, even as a baby. The game also has yet to explain Vigors, its versions of the Plasmids from the first two Bioshock games, which were basically superpowers granted by the substance produced by those sea slugs. If I had to guess, Vigors are... a result of some kind of quantum something-or-other, which they made from whatever it is they were siphoning off of Elizabeth? Maybe it’s a Scarlet Witch kind of thing... you don’t actually change yourself, you just find yourself in an alternate reality where everything else is 100% the same, except you’re a version of yourself who can shoot crows out of your hands.

Right, so. My... official theory is... that... I have no idea what’s going on. Yeah, sorry, something in that mess up there is bound to be close, but when you get into time travel and/or dimension-hopping, all bets are off the table. Or all bets, a literally infinite number of bets, are on the table. Which is a lot to try to comprehend.

#bioshock #bioshock infinite #bioshock spoilers

[dindjarindiaries]

Collide - Chapter 2

summary: Bella attempts to adjust to life in Colombia with dinner at the Murphys’, hoping she can forget about the man who lives down the hall.

warnings: angst, flashbacks, mentions of sexual content, cute!javi

rating: R

word count: 3.133k

masterlist

chapter 2.

You sigh as you lean against your kitchen island, a glass of water in hand. Your eyes look around the place you’ve just settled into. The apartment’s quite modest, not decorated with much more than some retro-colored tile on the kitchen walls and a few pictures of you and your parents you managed to frame and fit into your luggage. There’s a single hallway that leads to a bathroom and your bedroom, which also has a bathroom of its own. The kitchen opens to the living area, which has nothing more than a couch, a coffee table, a lamp, and a small television. You don’t envision yourself hanging around your apartment often, anyway. From what Steve and Javier told you earlier, you’ll probably be spending the majority of your days and nights at the office. Again, it’s rather small, but it’s satisfactory for you. It’s not like you have to share it with anybody.

You scoff to yourself at that. Speaking of the situation at hand, you hoped you’d be hungry after such a long day of traveling and moving in, but your emotions have other intentions. The thoughts that haunt you continue to affect your entire body, making you feel sick. Just knowing Javier’s currently right down the hall is enough to make you want to regurgitate the food you never ate. You’ve been in such denial of seeing the man again that you never even planned what a possible reunion could look like, and that just makes the situation hit you even harder. You didn’t ever prepare yourself for this.

You’re battling two main emotions: anger and fear. The former—well, how dare he never come after you, and then try to blame you for never going after him? His remarks from earlier still have you pissed off. The latter is mainly because you’re not only afraid of the way you still have feelings for him, but you’re also afraid of what you’ve missed out on in his life. What if he’s found love elsewhere? You’re not sure if you’d be able to see him in love with someone else—even after all this time.

The suffocating feeling of these dark thoughts have you wanting to wash them away with a drink, but without anything in your stomach and a severe lack of alcohol anywhere in the apartment, you settle for the glass of water in your hand. Thanks to the heat of Colombia and the poor strength of your air conditioning unit, the glass has already started to condense in your hand. You let out a sigh after realizing that you’ve chugged the rest of the glass, not feeling any particular motivation to go pour yourself another glass.

Suddenly, a soft knock sounds at your door. You turn towards it curiously, setting your empty glass down on the counter as you walk over to it. Your eye checks the peephole, where you see a petite, blonde woman standing outside with a small smile. Deciding it’s safe, you unlock the door and open it, watching as the woman’s smile grows.

“Hey!” she greets in a friendly manner, offering one of her hands to you. “I’m Connie Murphy, Steve’s wife.”

Upon hearing her relation to Steve, you return her smile, shaking her hand as you introduce yourself. “It’s great to meet you.”

“And you too. Steve told me he’s real excited about you joining him and Javi.” You try your best not to flinch as you hear Javier’s name hit your eardrums. “I just got back from work, and I was gonna start making some dinner. Did you want to join us?”

You feel your heart warm at the kind gesture, deciding that you could indeed use the food, no matter how loudly your stomach wanted to protest against it. “I’d love to, Connie.”

Connie gives you another smile, and she waits for you to grab your keys and lock your apartment before she leads you upstairs to theirs. As soon as you enter, you can sense the homelike atmosphere, its warm walls and plentiful decorations establishing it as an ideal home for a small family like theirs. Connie leads you into the kitchen and living area, where you see Steve sitting with a small child. That must be Olivia, you remind yourself. He looks up at you and offers a small smile.

“You made it!” Steve exclaims. “Wasn’t sure you’d want to after I stuck ya’ with Javi.”

You snort, staying by the island as Connie heads into the kitchen to start cooking. “It’s alright. It’s not like we’re strangers.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at you, continuing to rock Olivia as she looks to be just moments away from deep sleep. “Speaking of which… how do you know him?”

You chuckle, pulling out a chair from the island and sitting in it before you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s a long story.”

Connie looks up from where she’s started boiling some pasta for a sauce that smells as if it’s been cooking deliciously for hours. “We’ve got time, sweetheart.”

You let out a laugh, sighing shortly after to think about where you can possibly start. You’re about to begin when you see Steve stand up, and he holds up a single finger at you as he starts to walk slowly towards their small hallway. “Wait one second, I’m gonna put Olivia to bed.”

You give him a nod, turning completely to Connie once he’s out of your sight. You lean your arms against the counter as you watch her work, and she looks over her shoulder to give you another small smile. “You enjoyin’ Colombia so far?”

“From what I���ve seen, it’s beautiful—scenic wise. I’m sure I’m in for a surprise once I get more into my work.”

Connie scoffs, nodding as she gives the pasta a stir. “Yeah, I got a feeling you just might be. But don’t worry, as long as you pick and choose the right people to trust, you’ll make some great friends down here.”

You offer her a smile. “I think I’m off to a good start, then.”

“Oh, that’s real sweet. I’m glad they let you join them. I think all that testosterone was gettin’ a little dangerous for the DEA.”

You laugh, shaking your head. You hear Steve enter the room again, and before you have a chance to look at him, he pulls out the chair beside you and sits there. “Were you talkin’ shit again, honey?”

“Never, Steve,” Connie assures her husband, biting back a sly smile.

Steve shakes his head, and you chuckle at their playful interaction. He then looks at you with a raised brow, leaning one elbow on top of the counter. “So, you and Javi?”

You take a deep breath, folding your hands in your lap as you force yourself to dig through your now-painful memories. “Javi and I were childhood best friends. Ever since kindergarten.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “You gotta be shittin’ me.”

“Nope. We were inseparable. Spent just about every minute we could with each other.”

“Wow. What are the chances?”

“I know,” you mutter under your breath.

“But if you were so close, then why the fuck did I feel so uncomfortable when you two saw each other?”

You snort, running an anxious hand over your neck as you try to answer his question as vaguely as possible. “Well, I haven’t seen him since we left for college. In fact… I haven’t talked to him since.”

Connie, having just strained the pasta in the sink, looks over her shoulder with a sympathetic expression. “Was there a reason?” she asks.

You clear your throat, hoping you don’t appear to be as flustered as you feel. “No, no, we just—uh—fell out of touch. That’s why we were so surprised to see each other here.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at you. “And he didn’t know you were DEA?”

“Guess not. I didn’t know he was, either.” You pause, thanking Connie as she slides a plate of pasta and homemade sauce in front of both you and Steve. She follows up with a glass of water, and Steve offers her his seat as he stands across from you both at the counter. You all begin to eat, but you also continue your conversation. “I didn’t even know he was in Colombia.”

“So, how long exactly has it been since you last saw him?” Connie questions curiously.

You exhale deeply. “Almost twenty years.”

“Damn.” Steve huffs as he takes a sip of his drink. “Not even a phone call?”

“Nope. Nothing. Like I told you, we… fell out of touch.”

You can tell that Connie and Steve can sense your uneasiness on that part of the topic, and you’re relieved to see them resigning to it as they don’t interrogate you further. There’s a brief silence, during which you inform Connie of how delicious the meal is, but Steve’s curiosity gets the best of him eventually. “Now I need to know: what was Javi like back in the day?”

You tilt your head at him. “What do you mean? In what way?”

“Well, the Javi we know is…” Steve trails off, his gaze floating up to the ceiling as if he’s in deep thought. It returns to you shortly thereafter. “Stubborn. Caring, but also an asshole. And he’s a true lady’s man.”

You raise an eyebrow at the last one. “A lady’s man?”

Steve scoffs and nods his head. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything like it. I hate to admit it, but the man’s practically got a talent. He can get any woman to drop at his feet.”

You wrinkle your brow in slight confusion, unable to picture Javier being whatever Steve’s describing him as. “I mean, I remember him having a few girlfriends back then, yeah. Girls thought he was cute. But it was never anything out of the ordinary.”

“Huh. That’s interestin’. Good for him, I guess. He’s had some growth in that area.”

Despite the deliciousness of the meal Connie’s provided, you’re suddenly not sure if you can finish the rest that sits idly on your plate as your stomach starts to churn again. “How so?”

Steve chuckles, waiting until he finishes taking a sip of his drink to answer. “You’ll know soon enough. I feel bad for ya’ living on his floor—he’s not too quiet with his informants.”

Your eyes widen at his words.

Oh.

The image of Javier taking random women into his apartment and fucking them suddenly enters your head, and you almost spit your dinner back up onto your plate upon visualizing it. Memories of that night after prom start to hit you like a slap to the face, and it’s almost as if you can feel his hands on you again, his breaths in your ear, his firm grasp that had once made you feel so safe. You blink a few times and shake your head in a desperate attempt to get the scene to disappear. It suddenly doesn’t feel as sacred as it used to; it feels tainted, as if you were the first in a series of dominos for Javier and his body count.

“Oh, don’t worry, darlin’,” Connie assures you, placing a hand on your shoulder. It effectively pulls you back out of your head, and you look to see both Connie and Steve staring at you. “Steve’s just bein’ an asshole. It’s not that bad.”

Steve raises his hands in surrender. “Speak for yourself. I’ve heard—.”

“Hush, Steve!” Connie chastises, causing both you and him to chuckle. She then turns back to you. “But enough about Javi. What about you? Where do you come from?”

You smile at her easy change of the subject, beginning to tell them both more about yourself. You try to skip over the painful parts, instead choosing to focus on the lighter things. Still, you can’t bring yourself to tell them of your motivation to join the DEA—the memory, while being a few years old now, is still too painful. It’s not even something you’ve truly come to terms with yet, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to.

You used to have someone to share that trauma with. And now, they feel like a complete stranger to you.

After you spend about an hour talking with Steve and Connie, getting to know them better and vice versa, you find your exhaustion from your long day finally catching up to you. The very second you yawn for the first time, Connie’s shooing you towards the door, encouraging you to get some rest for your first full day of work tomorrow. You’re smiling by the time you descend the stairs to your own apartment, thankfully having forgotten all about the first part of your discussion.

You freeze, however, when you notice a paper bag sitting outside your apartment door. Looking around suspiciously, you bend down to pick it up, seeing a piece of paper attached to it. Your fingers reach for it delicately as your eyes read the all-too familiar handwriting.

Bella,

I hope you still like these little shits. They’re a pain in the ass to find around here, but I have my connections. As for the rest, I would’ve had it ready sooner if I knew. Enjoy.

See you soon,

Javi (cariño)

You hate the way you’re now biting back a stupid smile, opening the bag and almost gasping as you spot the exact thing he’d first referenced. Your hand reaches inside and takes a hold of one of the 100 Grand candy bars. A small laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head, and suddenly you’re launched into a plethora of memories—but you land upon a single one.

You wipe the back of your hand across your nose as you sniffle, your shoe kicking a rock as you sit on the bench outside of the local convenience store. You want to cry even more when you have to look at the shoe, remembering just how long you’d spent picking out your outfit to look nice that day. It’s Valentine’s Day, and you were intent upon finally telling your crush how you felt by giving him your homemade valentine. You wanted to look as good as you could, hoping it would cause him to accept your request.

Before you even had the chance to say anything to him, the other girls after your same crush had swooped in, demeaning the way you weren’t caught up on any of the current styles—and promptly managing to hijack your valentine and throw it into a nearby trashcan.

It was hopeless from there. You felt as if all that time you’d taken to match the perfect shirt to just the right skirt had gone to waste—and now you feel as if you’re the worst-looking fifth grader in the class. You never had a chance from the beginning, you remind yourself.

“Bella, I thought I lost you,” you suddenly hear a familiar voice say from nearby. Your head lifts to see Javier approaching, and upon seeing your evident sadness, the relieved smile on his face fades away. He quickly sits beside you, nudging your shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You let out another short sob as your head falls against his shoulder, and you tell him everything. Javier wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder, letting you show the emotion you need to as the horrific words fall from your lips. When you finish, Javier takes the edge of the short-sleeve button up flannel he has on over his white t-shirt, wiping it against your cheeks to dry your tears.

“They don’t know what they’re lookin’ at, bella. I wouldn’t keep callin’ you that if it wasn’t true.” You give a small laugh, causing Javier to smile again, his eyes wrinkling up a bit as he continues. “I think you look amazing. In fact, you know what you look like?”

You tilt your head at him, watching as he stands from the bench and tells you to wait for a second. He then dashes into the store, and it’s a few minutes until he reappears, holding something in his hand. Javier holds it out to you, giving you an even bigger smile.

“You look like a 100 Grand.” You laugh as you take the candy bar into your hands, opening it and breaking off a piece for him before biting into it yourself.

“Thank you, cariño,” you respond, leaning your head against his shoulder again. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

And, apparently, it’s still true. You realize you’ve been holding the candy bar to your chest as the memory passes through your mind, and you don’t bother looking through the rest of the bag just yet as you finally let yourself into your apartment. You walk over to the kitchen island and set the bag down gently, opening it as you start to view the other items.

There’s about four other 100 Grand bars, and you set those aside on the counter. The next obvious item is a small bottle of whiskey, and you snort as you appreciate Javier’s effort to get some kind of a numbing substance into your apartment along with the candy. After you put that aside, you pick up the last item, and your heart nearly evaporates in your chest as you view it.

It’s a small pillow, colored in a cream hue with black stitching written in cursive reading the word cariño. You’d given him the same exact thing but with the word bella stitched when he left for college—of course, before things went to shit between the two of you. You’re suddenly left to wonder when, where, and how the hell he managed to get that done. Did he just have someone make it tonight? Or has he had it made, and he just decided to gift it to you?

You shouldn’t be thinking about it this much. So, with a small sigh, you put the whiskey away into an empty cabinet and toss the 100 Grand bars into a drawer—deciding to hold onto one just for now. It feels like a blur as you get ready for bed, and you soon find yourself chewing on the candy bar as you hold the new pillow on your lap, trying not to think too hard on the day you’ve had.

If these are how all of your future days are going to go, you’re not sure if you should’ve ever left Texas in the first place, because you can feel every single old feeling you’d been trying to escape coming right back to you.

chapter 3

tags: @tarrevizslas @none-of-your-bullshit @lavenderl3mons @gooddaykate @flower-petal-blooming @stilllivindue2spite @mrsparknuts @fionnthebandersnacc @pisss-offf-ghostt @gaydreamland @longitud-de-onda @literallytrashhhhhh @arrowswithwifi @rage-isaquietthing @awesomefandomsunited @theforceofdarkandlight @murdermewithbooks @blushingwueen @rachelloveseveryone @madadlorian @ah-callie @mrsdaamneron @lokiaddicted @arcadianempress @benakenalove @pascalisperfect + kkgraham, irishleesh93, wickedfrsgrl, & moonlightmrvel (make sure you can be tagged in posts!)

#HE— #🥺 #javier peña #javier pena #javi peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña fic #narcos #collide fic #dindjarindiaries