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fluttering-lillies · 27 days

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Afterparty Chapter 5: All Together Now

Words: 3,736

Pairing: SunDash

Rating: T

Warnings: Talk of excessive drinking, mentions of sex

“Found it!” Rainbow called from the master bedroom. She was face down on the carpeted floor, stretching her hand under one of the charcoal gray end tables. She had no memory of her phone falling there, and no idea how it could have gotten there otherwise. Her pants had been several feet away when she’d picked them up that morning. It didn’t matter much now that she was securely snatching the phone from the floor. She just hoped it hadn’t been damaged in last night’s misadventures.

She flexed her muscles and twisted her body back up into a sitting position, phone in hand. Fluttershy’s name and picture still flashed on the screen, but Dash was more interested in looking for cracks. She turned the phone this way, then that, and finding none, hit the end call button.

She rose to her full height then, stepping out of the room, device held aloft triumphantly.

“Where was it?” Fluttershy asked from the bottom of the stairs. Applejack, large trash bag in hand, stopped to hear the answer too.

“Under the nightstand. Not sure how it ended up there, but it isn’t broken so,” she shrugged dismissively.

“Are ya gonna call Sunset?” Applejack asked.

Rainbow watched as Fluttershy rapidly shook her head, but it had already been asked and it wasn’t like Fluttershy was hiding her attempt at dissuasion. Still, Applejack rubbed at her neck with one hand and averted her eyes. “Whups. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Rainbow sighed. “Yeah I’m gonna call her, okay? Up here. So you girls can’t-'' her phone, still in hand, blasted out a couple guitar riffs. Each girl froze. Then their friend’s voice followed the electric notes. Power. Was all I desired. But all that grew inside me was a darkness I acquired.

Rainbow tilted her eyes down at the screen, blinking in disbelief as she looked at Sunset’s smiling bright face.

“Well? Pick it up, Dashie!” Fluttershy insisted.

“B-But… what do I say?”

“Say what we talked about! Tell her the truth! About what you want and how you’re feeling.” Fluttershy encouraged.

“But…”

“Girl, if you don’t pick up that damn phone then I will.” Applejack said flatly.

Rainbow hit the accept call button.

“Hey Rainbow.” They all heard Sunset say into the empty, silent air. Dash looked at Fluttershy, she waved her hands in a ‘go on’ sort of gesture.

“Rainbow Dash?” They all heard Sunset say again.

Rainbow scrambled to put the phone up to her ear. “Heyyy Sunset.” She rasped into the receiver.

“Phew. I’m glad you actually picked up.”

“You are?” Rainbow said without really thinking that question through.

“Of course I am Dash! I-“ Sunset stopped suddenly, almost as if she cut herself off from finishing that thought. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay.”

“In person. If that’s alright.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Okay yeah.” Dash nodded along. That made sense. This wasn’t really an over the phone kind of conversation.

“Can you meet me at CHS?”

Rainbow frowned a little. She just expected Sunset to come back here. Then her eyes wandered to the bottom of the stairs. Fluttershy and Applejack were still looking at her curiously. At this point, Twilight had joined in too, looking slightly perplexed for a moment, before it dawned on her who Dash was probably talking to.

No, Sunset had the right idea.

“I’ll be there.” She said definitively. Then, after a pause. “When?”

“As soon as you can get here?”

Rainbow barely noticed the hesitant lilt in her voice. Instead, she walked back into the master bedroom and searched for her van keys. They hadn’t been in her pants either, but this time she luckily didn’t have to go scrounging for them. “Here? Are you already at CHS?” Rainbow asked as she swiped her keys off the nightstand and turned back toward the stairs.

“Yeah. I…” Sunset cut off again, a little bit longer of a pause this time. “It’s complicated. I’ll tell you about it when you get here, okay?”

“Okay. Heading over now.” Dash said as she took the stairs two at a time.

“Great.” Sunset said, and the relief in her voice made it clear that it really was. Dash smiled at that.

“Be there soon.” Then she hit the end call button and rushed past her friends and toward the door.

“Where're ya goin, Dash?” Applejack called after her.

She opened the door and called back as she slipped out of it. “School!” Before the door could close all the way behind her, she whipped around and caught it with her elbow. She wasn’t surprised to see AJ heading toward her. “No following. This is between me and her, okay?”

Applejack scowled, Fluttershy didn’t look super pleased either, but they both stopped and waved Dash out the door.

Satisfied, Rainbow rushed to her van and hopped in. Then, tingling with excitement and nerves, she twisted the key in the ignition, and sped off toward Sunset Shimmer.

—

Rainbow Dash saw the gleaming marble base of the destroyed statue first. Then she caught sight of Sunset, leaning against it and shining just as beautifully. She nearly planted her face into the wheel at that thought. That lame, lame thought. Instead of cringing into her bones, she focused on spinning the steering wheel, parking in one swift, fluid motion. Now still, she pushed away the gooey, mushy nonsense thoughts that had caught her off guard when she’d seen Sunset again and shored up her confidence and cool.

There was no need to be intimidated or scared. She was Rainbow goddamn Dash after all. She just needed to make things clear and be direct. Chicks were into that sort of honest, confident approach, or the ones she’d flirted with in the past had been anyway.

One more centering breath and she stepped out of the van, the sound of the door slamming closed drew Sunset’s attention and ocean blue eyes. She smiled when they landed on Dash, and Rainbow felt something reverberate in her chest. Not painful like before, when Sunset had left, but deep and resonant, like a bass note on a blaring concert’s dance floor. “S-Sunset! Hey!”

“Dash. Good to see you.” She said as she pressed away from the statue into a proper standing position. Sunset’s grin was infectious, and she found herself matching it without thinking. Rainbow walked toward her, intending to give her a friendly greeting hug, but on the way she remembered why she was here, what had happened earlier today. So she stopped a good foot or so away, putting her hands in her pockets. Sunset stopped too, and they both stood there silently. Rainbow rocked back and forth on her feet. Sunset rubbed at her arm.

Confidence. She reminded herself. “Sooo… you wanted to talk.” She offered. It wasn’t the best start, but at least she was taking the lead. At least it wasn’t just awkwardly silent.

“Yeah…” Sunset responded, still rubbing at her arm, still taking her time. “About last night.”

All of Rainbow’s senses focused in on Sunset and only Sunset. This is what she wanted: answers, or at the very least a look into what Sunset was thinking.

“I think I’d like to… try that again?” Sunset was still smiling, and a blush crept onto her face.

The bass resonated through her chest again, down her body, and pleasant, happy warmth followed the chord. She almost giggled. Almost. But really what had she expected? She was the Rainbow Dash. Star athlete, rockstar, and all around total babe. Who wouldn’t want another chance with her? She smirked. The confident approach had already paid off, so it only made sense to push it. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” She hooked her thumbs into the loops of her jeans and leaned forward a little. “I mean. Few women can resist my charms.”

Sunset, instead of stammering or blushing more, snorted and rolled her eyes. “Really now?” She said with an amused, crooked smile. Ah. It was a game. She was playing hard to get.

“Really.” Dash said as she took a step forward, closing the distance between the two of them. “I mean I’ve got girls lining up around the block to get in my bed, Sunset. You’re one of the lucky few to actually manage it though. Even luckier that I’d wanna do it again.”

Sunset’s smile fell and now she just looked… confused. “Was that a compliment?”

Dash felt like she might have misstepped somehow, but it was fine. Sunset had left a perfect opening for her to correct it. “Well. Duh. Sunset you’re a total babe. Like, smoking hot. Of course I’d wanna roll around in the sheets with you again.” She had finally closed the distance enough to touch Sunset, and chose to walk her slender digits up Sunset’s arm as she spoke.

Rainbow got another smile, but it wasn’t as brilliant this time, not as bright. “So… is this a friends with benefits sorta deal then? Is that… is that what you want?” Sunset asked.

Rainbow paused, realizing she only had a blank spot in her mind where the answer to that question should be. She had wanted answers, she had wanted another kiss, and… she hadn’t thought much farther ahead than that. She honestly hadn’t expected to get this far. To push for anything more than she was getting seemed dangerous, seemed stupid. Sunset saying yes to them kissing, and touching, and pressing their warmth together was already so fucking awesome. No. No, Rainbow wasn’t going to be greedy about this. “That’s... yeah. I mean. Sounds good to me. If it sounds good to you.”

“Oh uh… yeah! Totally. If that’s… I mean. Yeah.” Sunset was still smiling, but it wasn’t reaching her eyes. They weren’t gleaming like the marble anymore. “But uh… not right now? If that’s cool. I mean. I still stink from last night and I’m assuming you haven’t showered either so…”

“Yeah no totally. I’ve been at Pinks’ all morning so. Need to get back home and stuff.”

“Right.”

There was more silence, and this time Rainbow didn’t know how to fill it, didn’t know what to say. Sunset finally did instead.

“Maybe… next weekend though? We can… I mean without all the alcohol and stuff.” Sunset moved her arm forward, like a small, unsure offering. Then she dropped it just as quickly.

“Right. Yeah. Totally.” That definitely sounded good. Nothing muffling the experience, just Sunset’s body against hers, their heat exchanging. It sounded hot. It looked hot, when she glanced at Sunset and imagined her bare curves and soft, smooth skin that hid beneath her leather jacket and t-shirt. But…

But then Sunset started to walk away. She didn’t say bye, just sort of waved weakly, and Rainbow saw her heading toward her stylish, sleek motorcycle. She didn’t know why, but she’d expected some kind of kiss: either soft, slow, and romantic or heated, passionate, and frantic. Instead, Rainbow got a half wave.

The deep base faded from her body and was replaced with some sort of whimpering pain. It hurt to realize, she still wanted Sunset, even though she already had her. The half measure wasn’t enough.

What do you want…?

Fluttershy had asked her that, and at the time Rainbow thought she knew. She wanted whatever Sunset wanted, whatever would make her friend happiest, she just wanted the answers on how she could make that happen. Asking for more felt like it led to a road of a strained, then broken friendship. It felt like a betrayal, just one that took place in slow motion, and Rainbow Dash would never do that to a friend. Watching Sunset walk away felt so wrong though. She could feel that invisible awkward distance she’d feared spreading between them, pushing them apart like an unstoppable force.

“Sunset! Wait!” She’d been steps away from her bike and Rainbow had panicked. She had no plan of action, no big speech prepared, she just didn’t want Sunset to ride off, to spread that distance impossibly, insurmountably wide.

Tell her the truth! About what you want and how you’re feeling!

Fluttershy had insisted on that, but was it really so simple? Rainbow Dash knew from Twilight, Princess Twilight that is, that honesty was AJ’s bag, not hers. She knew from her own mind that opening her heart, spilling every whiny, sappy, lovey-dovey emotion sounded incredibly lame. The exact opposite of the cool, confident girl she was supposed to be.

Though, she did also know that Applejack, though stubborn and bossy at times, was an amazing friend. A friend that would never bullshit you, a friend that wouldn’t lead you astray. She knew that every one of them together, all of the elements, equaled amazingly powerful, crazy awesome, magic rainbow beams.

“Rainbow Dash?” Sunset had been waiting patiently and at this point decided to speak up. She looked confused again, more so than before.

“I…” She could only really get that out. She was standing at the edge of a pool she didn’t really want to jump into. Fluttershy’s voice shoved her in. Tell. The. Truth.

“I’m super scared.”

“Scared?” Sunset stepped away from her bike, back onto the curb.

“Yeah. I mean. Terrified… actually?”

“Should we not…” Sunset was frowning now. “I mean, Dash, if you just wanna be friends I totally get it. I’m not going to push you into anything.”

“No!” Rainbow blurted. “No. I… I mean.” She covered her face with her hands, groaned, and then swore. When she dragged her hands down her face enough that she could see beyond them, Sunset was still there, looking at her expectantly.

Rainbow Dash bit her lip, breathed in deep, and dove down into the water that Fluttershy had pushed her into. “I’m so scared that you don’t want what I… what I want. Or that you do, but that someday you won't anymore. And then we'll fight and break up and things will become weird and then we won’t be friends anymore, but… but I also! I can’t take back what I did last night and this,” she gestured emphatically between the two of them, “this, right here, right now is already happening. It’s already becoming awkward and shitty and I’m scared that no matter what I do things are going to change. So!”

Rainbow threw up her hands. “Fuck it! Right?” She tried to laugh, but it was a pitiful, dead sound. So she stood a little straighter and gulped down the weak chuckle, her fear, and her pride. Then she let honesty spill from her lips, like any good friend should. “I… I want you Sunset. I want sex, yeah sure, but not just that. I want to play guitar with you in my basement, and I want to kiss you when I see you between classes, and I want to do dumb, cliché study dates with you and not just because you’re way better at pre-calc than me, but because doing pre-calc with the hottest girl I know makes it sound way more bearable. Still bad, I mean it's pre-calc but, whatever.” She tried to just smile this time, but Sunset was staring at her with wide, brilliant sea-green eyes. So she swallowed again and went on.

“I wanna. I don’t know, get on your bike and drive like two hours just so we can hit up the beach. I want you to come to all my games. I wanna kick your ass in like every fighting game ever because somehow that’s like the one thing you don’t absolutely rock at.” She gestured at Sunset helplessly. “I want you. I don’t know if I’m… in love, or anything, but I know I want you in my life. And I want you there as not just my friend, not just my fuckbuddy, but as… my girlfriend? My date? My… you get it right?” She swore in her head, why was she so bad at this of all things? Why couldn’t she just string all her mushy emotional thoughts together properly?

Sunset, thank the summer sun above them, nodded in understanding. Rainbow nodded back, a quick jerk of her head more than anything, the stiffness of the movement brought on by the nerves building in her stomach and chest.

“So. What… what do you want, Sunset?”

Sunset responded by rushing forward and giving Rainbow that kiss she’d been wishing for. Only it was better than what she’d been dreaming of. Hot and passionate, but not hurried, not panicked. A slow, sensual exchange of tongues and wetness and heat, of exploring limbs and skin touching skin. Rainbow didn’t want it to end. She just wanted to stay there and explore every inch of Sunset that her alcohol addled mind had forgotten. Still, it did end, eventually. With panting from Sunset and one whispered “awesome…” from Rainbow Dash.

Still, there was a voice nagging. “But…” she couldn’t tell if it was Fluttershy’s or her own. She suspected her mind was too fuzzy from the kiss to separate that out. “I do… I want to hear it in your own words. Exactly what you want.”

Sunset looked down at her quizzically. She had never noticed exactly how much taller Sunset was until they were pressed together like this.

“I know, I know it’s… I just… I mean I already almost fucked things up by not spelling things out and you’re always saying that Pony Twilight harps on the ‘communication is the key to good friendships’ thing and-“

Sunset put a finger to Rainbow Dash’s lips. “C’mon. Have a seat with me, and I’ll tell you.”

—

The sun was starting to descend by the time they both got situated on the statue’s now free base. Not quite setting, but starting to turn the sky that slightest bit darker.

Sunset wanted to pull Rainbow close where they sat, wanted it to be all cheesy and romantic, but this was new and really she didn’t know if Dash exactly went for that sort of thing. So she compromised by reaching her hand out, placing it just over where Dash had rested hers.

Rainbow jolted when skin touched skin, and for a beat Sunset had worried even this had been a step too far. The rare, soft smile that Rainbow gave her chased that notion away though, and Sunset smiled back when their fingers twisted awkwardly for a second before intertwining.

“I want you too.” Sunset said. “I was…” She debated exactly how much she wanted to tell, but Rainbow Dash had been painfully, awkwardly honest, so she would be too. “Twilight. Princess Twilight. She saved me when she first came to this world, she turned my life around, was the first one to reach a hand out to pick me up after I hurt all of you so much. After I hurt myself so much. That still means so much to me, but she’s happy in her world and I think I need to try to be happy in mine.”

Rainbow scowled and quirked a brow. Then put a hand to her forehead and let out a soft “Ohhh…”

“Yeahhhh… I didn’t really realize I was still sort of holding a flame for Twi til today. I talked it out with her though. She helped me realize a lot of things actually.”

“Talked it out? Wait! She was here?”

Sunset laughed. “Why do you think I’m at CHS?”

“I thought it was like… neutral ground or something.”

Sunset laughed harder, doubling over where she was sitting. “Wh-what?” She exclaimed between guffaws.

“Y’know! Love and war and all that.” Rainbow shrugged. She was starting to blush, a line of pink painting her blue skin. It was cute as hell.

Sunset scooted closer, and kissed her cheek, which made Rainbow’s cheeks go from pink to red. “You’re a dork.”

“Y-You’re a nerd.”

Sunset shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while then, watching the sun sink lower, feeling the late spring day grow colder. There was a slight breeze, birds chirped, the sky grew more beautiful with each passing minute. This was nice, Sunset thought. She could get used to this.

“So… what? You confessed and she just wasn’t into you?” The question seemed to have been burning at Rainbow because she blurted it out into the silence.

Sunset let out a short snort of amusement and shook her head. “Nothing like that. She’s dating her world’s Rarity and… she’s really happy. Like, stars in her eyes, mushy gushy happy.”

“Blegh.” Rainbow responded, tongue stuck out.

“I know, right?”

“We can’t be one of those couples.” Though as she finished her sentence Sunset turned to look into her eyes. They both smiled, then kissed. It was a soft, quick thing but Sunset still had the same big grin on her face when they separated.

It only faltered when she thought of what else Twilight had told her. “I was scared too. That’s why I took off. I… didn’t think about our friendship changing, about the awkwardness. I think… you were more optimistic.” She’d been staring into Dash’s eyes, but at that she turned back toward the setting sun.

“I’ve hurt you before. I was afraid I’d do it again.”

Rainbow got out a syllable of protest before Sunset put her hand up. “I know. Trust me. Whatever you’re going to say Twilight already told me. I’m not that person anymore, I’m different, better. And neither of you are wrong…”

There was a short pause. Short because Rainbow blustered in again. “I feel like there’s a but coming.”

Sunset shrugged. “But I can’t pretend I’m not still worried. Not nearly as much as I was. I… I don’t think I’ll do anything. I don’t think I’ll slip back into my old ways. Really I don’t. But those memories are still always simmering in the back of my mind. What I did, who I hurt. Twilight helped so much, but she can’t fix everything with two heartfelt speeches and a rainbow laser blast.”

Rainbow didn’t hesitate. She squeezed Sunset’s hand and offered, “Let me help then. Let me… I don’t know, make you think about something else? Twilight’s back in Equestria, but you’ve got me now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Sunset Shimmer smiled softly, felt her heart swell into her throat with emotion, before swallowing it down. “I know. I’m not going anywhere either.”

#sundash #sunsetdash #sunset shimmer #mlp #my little pony equestria girls #rainbow dash #my fanfiction #I'm so so so so so so sorry I'm posting this so much later than I meant to ;;

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saintsenara · 10 months

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scylla and charybdis - a snippet

severus snape/lord voldemort explicit | graphic depictions of violence | major character death

here's a little look at what to expect in chapter three of scylla and charybdis. this one's titled shipmates - why? because the seventeen-year-old snape's easter stay with the malfoys has him feeling like he's finally found a group of people he truly belongs with.

i can't imagine that will go wrong.

Malfoy Manor is a magnificent building.

Even Severus, who’d never been the sort of pretentious toff who could be sent to half-mast by the finer points of Jacobean architecture (unlike - he suspected - Lucius), had to admit that. And it only took two days after he arrived to spend the Easter holidays for him to become convinced of the fact.

Of course, it was absurd - mad, really - to think such things about a pureblood’s fancy country pile, when he was supposed to loathe the posh, with their glittering vaults and easy movement through the world but he felt as though it was almost appropriate to describe his surroundings as beautiful. There was a brown-sugar glitter to the stone of the walls and an emerald sparkle -

[‘Look at me.’]

- to the immaculate parkland. There were gardens bursting with the flouncy blooms of silk-pink roses and bedrooms decked out in snow-white satin sheets. He woke up every morning not to frost on the inside of the dirty windows of his parents’ frigid little terrace, a feeble approximation of warmth coughing its way out of a dodgy two-bar heater his dad had acquired from a bloke in a pub - and not to an ominous medievalism, a vast roaring fire in a huge stone grate, doing its best to chase away the dampness of the lake, either - but to a sensible conflagration beneath an elegant marble mantel. When he rose, he could drift down to the airy dining room - the champagne-coloured April light glittering through the French windows - and find his hosts tucking into breakfast, silver platters of bacon and eggs laid enticingly on the sideboard. When the meal was done, and Abraxas slithered off to attend to some vague business in his office, and Lucius went off to meet with creditors and condescend to tenant farmers, he could take himself off to the library and work his way through any book he desired, never having to worry - like he had to constantly at school - that some greasy little do-gooder (Pettigrew, probably; the other Marauders may have been cunts but at least they were cunts with an intolerance for the rules, Pettigrew was just a narc) would be lurking in the stacks to spy on him and run off to tattle to McGonagall about his interest in dark magic.

[‘He has lately taken to listening at doors, I don’t know what he means by it.’]

[‘That, Severus, is why I have sent him to spend the summer with you.’]

When evening came and dinner was done, he could sip a brandy and play chess with Lucius. Like he was a proper man, no matter his accent and his secondhand robes. He seemed to have become sophisticated - that was the way he saw it - just from having been welcomed into the manor through the front door. He seemed to have become correct - to have taken his rightful place in the order of things - just from having been apparated by Lucius directly from Hogsmeade Station on the last day of term, which Avery and Mulciber had been impressed by, to Severus’ malevolent glee He seemed to have shed the grease that Black was so fond of pointing out always clung to him, which only confirmed what he’d always thought - that filth which didn’t really belong there had been laid upon him by his mother’s willingness to forget the dignity of her magic and spend her days hunched over the chip pan, in service of a Muggle brute who was sitting in a string vest in front of It’s A Knockout, fogging up the front room with a haze of cheap ale and putrid sweat.

He’d been rescued. That’s what it felt like. He’d been adopted, whirled out of the grubby mill town he’d had to drag himself around for seventeen years - with its crumbling rows of two-up-two-down houses and its mouse-infested chip shops - and saved. He’d been welcomed - a little late, but Lucius had always struck him as too rich to appreciate how time worked for anyone other than himself - into a world where he was equal in dignity to the thoroughbred blondes who minced around the place in their furs and damasks, and his dad’s woodbines and tennent’s and his mum’s decision to embarrass herself by letting a Muggle drunkard knock her up and knock her about had ceased to matter, and nobody cared that he wore his father’s face and had his father’s name.

For once in his life, he was on the right side of the smug aura which shimmered out through the Malfoys’ mullioned windows. A stranger - the sort of cringing half-blood who came to tug his forelock in the hope of receiving a handout from Abraxas - would think the elegant mask of the house looked like a sneer. To a welcome guest, the snooty haze which enveloped the whole place was a marvellous inside joke.

And he was a welcome guest, no matter what Lily or his mum would have said about these sort of rich purebloods never giving a solitary fuck about people like them, people from the slums and the margins. There was no more standing like a lump on the kitchen threshold and being quickly sent away, lest poverty flake like dust from his clothes and turn the elves into raging trade unionists. He was permitted to sit with Lucius and his father after dinner and chat with Abraxas - who had a keen interest in alchemy and was, he had to be honest, considerably cleverer than his son - like they were members of the same club.

Which, he supposed, they were now. Now that he had met the Dark Lord.

Which he supposed meant that he didn’t need to worry himself about who it was that made his food or cleaned his bedroom or swept the grates.

Or who it was that had threatened the Malfoys into being so nice to him.

#asenora fics #writing snippet #snapemort #severus snape #tom riddle #lord voldemort #scylla and charybdis

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 1 year

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what if right after Bella touched down in Forks and met her dad, she got the personality of Utena Tenjou from Revolutionary Girl Utena? How would the story change, and would Bella-Utena be able to survive the Edward yandere simulator? (You can probably tell I just binge watched revolutionary girl Utena for the second time…)

Oh boy.

Well, first, I think we have to go over how Utena would even react to this.

Utena and the Real World

One of the things I love about Utena is that we have no idea what the real world or adulthood is. It's less magical, less beautiful, presumably than Ohtori Academy but it could also be a post apocolyptic wasteland due to Anthy's decision to have the prince stop sacrificing himself for them.

We never get to see it and I love the show for that.

It's a nebulous, terrifying, place that the characters know they must reach or else perish without ever having been born.

And then, of course, there's the fact that those who leave Ohtori don't seem to be able to take much with them just as those who enter Ohtori. What I'm getting at is that memories are a fuzzy thing in the Utena universe and characters very much shrug and go along with it.

Back to the Ask

For my sanity, we'll say that Utena has not entered Ohtori yet. She has not remembered why she wanted to become a prince, she is still searching for her prince unaware of who he is, and she hasn't been pierced by the swords in Anthy's stead.

Utena finds herself waking up on a plane and getting off. She's a little confused, but not overly much so, and figures she must be traveling somewhere, likely in search of the prince who she's been wanting to meet.

In the bathroom she notices her face looks different. Everything about her is different, she's older, her eyes are now brown along with her hair, and she's shorter too.

Utena's annoyed by this but doesn't think much of it as she didn't in canon when she body swapped with Anthy. Shit happens. Probably because of whatever curry she must have had on the plane.

My point is Utena takes being 'Bella' in stride though she likely corrects Charlie to 'Utena' and gets really really really weird about having parents of any kind as she is decidedly an orphan.

Also, she wants to be a prince.

Charlie doesn't say anything to that.

At school Bella immediately clocks the Cullens as the student council people of note but would not find them to be prince candidates. While she wiffle waffled on Touga being the prince or not when she was uncertain was when he acted like what Utena thought to be a prince, gallant, chivalrous, brave, and kind. When he was an ass she paid less mind to him. Akio happened to be what was left of the prince, which helped him out, and also oozed seductive evil charisma.

The Cullens are too standoffish, too snobby, and Edward later too hostile for Utena to have interest in them. After Biology, for all Edward wouldn't notice the first time, he gets the Saionji treatment.

(Not to mention, I'm sure, that Utena actually likes Jessica Stanley as someone very reminiscent of Wakaba, good intentioned if a bit of a loud mouth who focuses on the wrong guys for sometimes the wrong reasons. Utena would be appalled that Edward acted so cold to her when Jessica was being brave.)

When Edward returns and tries to be charming...

The thing is that Edward is ultimately pulling a Touga. He would find Bella (Utena's) desire to be a prince, to meet a prince, bemusing and later irritating (as Edward is certainly not that prince and knows it). More, he would want to be the prince, not her, in which case Utena would have to be put in her place as the rose bride er damsel in distress in the relationship.

Ultimately, because of this, Utena while perhaps wavering on Edward for a little bit would staunchly reject him when all of this makes itself clear.

Now, that said, Utena is beloved by the gods.

It's unclear what, exactly, the power of Dios is and when Utena started embodying it (was it only when Anthy noticed) but there's a chance that it could be there out in the real world and could keep her alive in any surreal confrontation with Edward (presuming this still is, in some way, the Utena universe).

This means that Utena will survive against all odds only to be pulled towards Ohtori to fight for the rose bride.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #the revolutionary girl utena #the revolutionary girl utena meta #the revolutionary girl utena headcanon #utena tenjou #bella swan #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #meta #headcanon #opinion

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legolasbadass · 2 years

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Office Hours, Part 9

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague…

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 3k

Rating: T (some chapters E)

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, life has been a bit hectic lately! Special thanks to @linasofia for helping me out with this one and always being there to send me inspiring photos or to send virtual hugs when I struggle with my writing. Love you wifey 💙

Read on AO3

In the following weeks, Richard and I grow even closer as we settle into the new rhythm of our shared life. At the college, we act as though we are nothing but colleagues, though we often can’t help but share lingering glances and soft smiles during meetings or across hallways. Then the night comes. Some evenings, we are both too busy with research or correcting, but usually, we work side by side, either at his house or my flat. We cook for each other, exchange advice over our papers or discuss books we are reading, and make love as often as we can. In other words, I have never been happier.

Fortunately, my worries about dating a colleague don’t seem to have had any real founding. Not only is it relatively easy to keep our relationship a secret—although it is hard not being able to go to the restaurant or the movies together, or even just for a walk outside—but it only fuels the passion between us. When no one is looking, Richard sometimes sends me the most intense gazes, or he will brush my hips imperceptibly as he passes by me. The notion that each glance, each touch between us is forbidden is incredibly arousing, and when we are finally alone, all the pent-up desire of the day comes crashing down and brings us to new heights of pleasure I would never have imagined could be possible. Just last night, I was cooking dinner at my flat and the moment he came in, this overwhelming need for him rose inside me, and we ended up making love on the kitchen counter, half-naked as we couldn’t even wait to be fully undressed. Heat rises up my cheeks at the memory, but I force myself not to think about it. Not here, in a classroom, while I’m packing up my things after a lecture.

“Professor Browning?”

“Yes?” I look up as I pull my bag over my shoulder and find one of my students, Jane, smiling at me.

“I was wondering if you had some time to discuss my paper topic quickly?” she asks.

“Of course! I’m going up to my office right now, but we can talk on the way,” I say as we head out into the packed hallway.

“I found both the prompt on ecocriticism and the one about literary influences really interesting and I wondered if it might be possible to combine them?

“Absolutely! I’m guessing you had something specific in mind?”

Smiling, she nods and says, “I’m interested in analyzing the significance of trees in Shakespeare and Tolkien.”

“That’s a great idea!” I say, smiling knowingly as we climb the large staircase leading to the offices. “Do you know what texts you’ll be focusing on?”

“I was thinking Lord of the Rings and Leaf by Niggle. For Shakespeare—definitely The Tempest, but Macbeth seems too obvious, so I still need to figure that out.”

As we reach my office, I place the keys in the lock and glance toward Richard’s office, trying to discern if he’s still here. “Oh,” I say in sudden realization, “do you know Professor Armitage?”

Jane’s eyes light up at the mention of his name and I have to bite my cheek to stop myself from smiling. “Yes, I know him! I’ve taken all his classes in the past two years—he’s great!”

“Yes, well, you could go to him and discuss your idea with him. I know he’d be more than happy to give you some suggestions.”

“Alright, I’ll do that!” she replies, her smile growing wider. “Thank you so much, professor. Have a great weekend!”

“You too, Jane!”

As she turns and heads toward the stairs, I step into my office, chuckling to myself and wondering if Richard knows how many of his students have a crush on him. Then a familiar hand stops me from closing the door.

“I was just thinking about you,” I remark as we step inside and he closes the door before anyone can see us.

He raises his eyebrows and smiles. “You were?”

Richard leans against the old wooden door, the soft umber of his tweed jacket the colour of the bookshelves that fill the walls of my office. The dark waves of his hair glow in the light of the setting sun which fills the room, and I can’t help but think how perfect he looks—as if he had been made to stand in these ancient rooms and all the knowledge they hold belonged to him.

“Yes, you see, I was just with one of your groupies.” I cross the room to set my books on my desk then turn to face him, smiling at the expression of utter confusion on his handsome face as he walks toward me, his arms now crossed over his chest so that his hands rest over the elbow patches on his jacket.

“My … what?”

“You groupies!” He continues to stare at me. “You really don’t know do you?”

“I know you’re not making any sense right now.”

Chuckling, I move toward him to wrap my arms around his chest. “I was just talking with Jane Taylor—apparently she’s taken all your classes in the last two years.”

Richard nods. “So?”

“Well, she’s in my Tolkien class and she just told me about a brilliant idea for her paper, but she wants to make a comparative argument with Shakespeare as well, so I told her she should go to you and ask for some advice. I tell you, the way her eyes lit up when I mentioned you … it’s true love.”

“Lorelei.”

“What?” I chuckle. “She’s not the only one, you know. You walk past them in the hallways and they just …” I press my hand over my chest and let out an overly dramatic sigh.

“Stop that,” he groans. “Jane Taylor asked me if I wanted to be her supervisor for her thesis. Why would you tell me that?”

I press my lips together and caress his back, feeling slightly guilty, but I love teasing him too much and I know he doesn’t really mind it. “Seriously, I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

The frown on his face recedes and he offers me a tender smile, gazing deeply into my eyes. “Well, my mind was rather preoccupied with a certain groupie all these months.” Then, he leans in to kiss me, his lips soft against mine while his beard scratches my cheeks in that familiar, deeply intoxicating way.

When he pulls away, I smile and raise a hand to caress his hair. “You might want to pay attention to your students, Professor Armitage. It wouldn’t do for them to notice how distracted you are.”

“Hm, well maybe you should stop wearing low-cut blouses to work,” he replies teasingly, an enticing smirk floating to his lips.

I chuckle and shake my head, then ask, “Did you want something?” because I know that if there was a reason for his visit he’s on the verge of forgetting all about it.

Richard wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me tightly against him. “Do I need a reason to come see my girlfriend?” he says in a low, rumbling voice before pressing his lips against mine, and without thinking, I let my hands slide down to the hem of his shirt, then slip beneath it to skim his warm skin. His responding groan sends a familiar, pleasant wave of heat through me, and I have to force myself to pull away. “But as a matter of fact,” he goes on, squeezing me tight against him, “I did want to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“What are you doing next weekend?”

“Hm, finals aren’t until the week after so I won’t be overwhelmed with correcting yet,” I ponder. “So, nothing, I think. Why?”

“Well, I told you about the British Shakespeare Association conference, right?” he asks and I nod. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come with me?”

A smile floats to my lips as I note the shyness in his voice. “To the conference?”

“It’s in Bath this year. The papers are only a few hours each day, so I was thinking I can go for a little while, present my paper, and then we’d have the rest of the weekend to ourselves. It would be nice to be able to go out in public for a change.…”

My smile widens. “I would love that!”

“Yeah?” Hope flashes in his eyes as though he had been worried I would reject his offer, so I hug him tightly.

“Yeah,” I repeat, then rise up on my tiptoes to press my lips against him. “And I’d love to listen to your paper—if you don’t mind.”

Richard looks away, shaking his head. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Richard, please, I want to,” I say, reaching out to force him to look back at me.

“You do?”

“Yes, I do,” I repeat emphatically. “I love hearing you talk about your research. You’re an amazing scholar and an even more amazing speaker. You’re so knowledgeable and passionate, it’s—it’s beautiful to watch.” A blush creeps onto his cheeks beneath his beard, and I smile softly.

“Alright,” he says after a moment, clearing his throat. “You can come for my paper.”

“Thank you,” I reply before welcoming his lips against mine once more.

The sound of approaching footsteps against the old wooden floor in the hallway makes us pull apart, but soon they fade away, leaving our secret safe.

“So, what time do you get home tomorrow?” Richard asks as he moves away to lean against the backrest of the armchair behind him.

“Er, the seminar goes until five so I should be home by 7,” I tell him, the fear of being discovered lingering inside me, tightening my chest.

“How about I come by and cook you dinner?”

“You’re perfect,” I say with a sigh, causing him to chuckle. “My knight in shining armour.”

“At your service, princess,” he replies with a wink.

My heart flutters in my chest, but I say, “Oh, I am not a princess. I am a badass warrior queen, thank you very much.”

Richard’s responding laugh is warm like the golden sun that pours in through the diamond grid window, and I melt as it caresses me, all worries gone from my mind.

“Alright then, see you tomorrow, my badass warrior queen.”

***

The following evening, I get home with a head even more full of ideas than my messy notebook. Richard called me an hour ago to let me know he would be here around 7:30, which leaves me with enough time to change into something more comfortable and do some work before he gets here. Unfortunately, my phone rings as soon as I sit at my desk and open my laptop, and I can’t hold back my sigh when I see that it’s my mum.

“Hi, mum,” I say, leaning back in my chair.

“Hi, darling, are you busy?”

“Uh, no, it’s fine,” I reply somewhat reluctantly. “How are you?”

“I’m great! What about you—how is everything? We haven’t talked in a while.”

“Yeah, sorry about that—I’ve been really busy. But I’m good. Really good. And work is just as amazing as it was the first day,” I say, smiling to myself while I glance over my emails.

“Oh, that’s good! I’m really glad to hear that,” she says. “Listen, your father and I would love for you to visit soon. You could come for dinner or—”

At that moment, the front door opens and Richard walks in. When his eyes fall upon me, he lifts up a bag of groceries and says, “I bring gifts for my queen—”

I immediately wave my free hand to silence him, but it’s too late.

“What was that?” my mum asks on the other end of the line. “Was that a man?”

“What?” I say while continuing to wave my hand as Richard looks at me with a puzzled frown.

“That was a man!” my mum exclaims. “Lorelei, are you seeing someone?”

“Mum, you don’t even know where I am—for all you know I could be on the street! And, I’m obviously not dating all the men out on the street that you might happen to overhear on the phone.”

“Are you on the street?” she asks pointedly.

A pause.

“No.”

“So are you?”

With a sigh, I turn to watch as Richard sets the groceries on the kitchen island, still eyeing me curiously. “Yes, I am.”

“Really?” I can almost see her surprised, but pleased smile as she speaks, and despite everything, I find myself smiling with her. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Since when? Why haven’t you told me about this?”

“Sorry, I’ve been so busy with work. …”

Guilt creeps up my neck at the excuse, and I know I won’t be able to evade the subject forever, but the last thing I want right now is for her to pass judgment on my relationship.

“Well I must meet this mystery man! You should both come over for dinner soon—”

“Oh, I don’t know—we’re both really busy lately,” I reply quickly, biting my lower lip.

She ignores me and says, “How does next weekend sound?”

“We can’t—he has work stuff.” I smile to myself once more at the thought of a whole weekend in Bath with Richard, free to go out in public without the fear of bumping into someone from work.

“How about the weekend after that? The 6th of November.”

“Uhhhh, I don’t know—”

“Wonderful!” she interjects, completely ignoring me once more. “We’ll see you then. Have a good evening, Lorelei.”

And with that, she hangs up and I let out a deep groan.

“What’s wrong?” Richard asks.

“That was my mum,” I begin as I walk over to the kitchen and accept the glass of wine he offers me with a grateful smile. “She wants to meet you and have dinner with us.”

Richard wraps an arm around my shoulders to pull me toward him. “Is that so terrible?”

“What—no, it’s not terrible. It’s just—I don’t know, I’m a bit nervous….”

“Why?” he asks, but he’s not insistent, only concerned. “I thought you and your parents got along really well.”

“We do, I’m just a bit worried about how they’ll react … to you,” I stammer, avoiding his eyes. A moment of silence follows, his hand moving to trace a soothing circle against my back, giving me the courage to go on. “I mean, you’re older than me and you’re my colleague. And while that doesn’t matter to me, not anymore,” I hastily add, “it will matter to them.”

“So that’s why you hadn’t told her yet.” When I look up at him, he says, “I figured that from your conversation on the phone. See, I’m a regular Sherlock, too.”

With a chuckle, I wrap my free arm around him and squeeze him tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell them earlier. It doesn’t mean anything—I hope you know that.”

“I know, don’t worry.” He leans in to press a soft kiss onto my lips, and the tightness in my chest recedes. After a moment, he pulls away and steps out of my embrace. “I’m going to start dinner now.”

“Alright, I just need to finish something quickly and then I can help you. Is that ok?”

“Of course,” he replies with a smile that makes my heart melt. “Do you mind if I put some music on?”

“Not at all,” I answer as I move back to my desk. “You can connect your phone to the speakers or you can browse through my records.”

With that, I turn my attention back to the Word document on my laptop, in which I started to write down some ideas for a new paper. Using the notes I took today, I write a few sentences and possible sources—but then the music starts. I let out a surprised chuckle as I recognize the first notes of ABBA’s Dancing Queen. The sight that greets me when I turn around is even more surprising. Richard is dancing in the kitchen, swaying his hips to the rhythm of the drums. Then, when the vocals kick in, he starts to sing along, using a wooden spoon as a microphone and causing me to burst out laughing.

“You’re crazy,” I giggle as I stand up and walk toward him with my glass of wine in hand, all thoughts of research gone from my mind. “I never would have guessed you were an ABBA fan.”

Richard smiles brightly, still dancing to the music. “If a person doesn’t like ABBA there’s something seriously wrong with them.”

“I’ve always said so,” I concur, smiling up at him. Then, with a small laugh, I say, “Thank God there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Richard laughs as he closes the space between us and kisses me deeply, our lips moving in a sensual dance that is becoming so familiar but never less intoxicating. His arms circle my waist, pressing me against his solid chest, and he starts to sway us from side to side. For a long while, the two of us dance and sing in the kitchen, giggling and sharing soft kisses, as the city outside fades into the night.

Later that evening, as we are reading together in bed, Richard sets the open book on his chest and looks down at me, his lips curling into a tired smile.

“I don’t know if I made that clear earlier, but I really don’t mind meeting your parents. In fact, I would love to meet them.”

“Really?” I ask in surprise, stifling a yawn.

“Of course. They’re an important part of your life—and I want to share every part of your life, Lorelei,” he says, unfaltering, and the tingles in my heart spread through my whole body.

I am so shocked by the honesty and ease with which he speaks these words that it takes me a long while to answer. “I do too, you know?”

We have not known each other very long, yet the words come easy to me. And I mean them. I mean them with my whole heart.

Richard smiles in response before moving to press a soft kiss onto my forehead as he places the book onto his nightstand.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” I reply, smiling as I cuddle against his broad chest.

—

Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchiberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @swoopswishsward

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters or added to my taglist!

#richard armitage #richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x reader #richard armitage x you #rpf #office hours

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literal-ghost · 4 months

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I watched Belle the other night and I have such weird feelings about it.

There's a lot of interesting ideas to explore in the film, like creative expression and how you are perceived when you put it out there. What power dynamics do in online spaces (I thought the concept of the corrupt moderator lead was neat, but of course there needed to be a 'Gaston' character, and that was a clever way of putting one in the story), and how perceived power just through attention and popularity can affect a person, whether it's positive OR negative attention. And of course, the internet as escapism, of creating a persona to express what you cannot in your regular life, and how real and affecting your friendships with others can be, and how special those connections are.

I am all about those points, and I'm sure that tons of people can find something to relate to from their own lives and experiences online.

But

The way characters moved through the narrative to navigate to those points felt awkwardly alien and clunky. The execution of the plot was so fucking weird. I get what the film was trying to do and it could have pulled it off better. The first kinda hour and 15 minutes into the film, I had said put loud, "this isn't bad, per say, but it feels like the movie equivalent of eating plain, untoasted white bread right out of the bag." The plots between Suzu's real life and what was going on in U felt so disconnected from one another, and maybe that was intentional? But even when those plot points converge and things come to a head at the film's climax, I found myself so frustrated at the characters (why in a room full of her friends and FIVE GROWN ADULTS would they encourage Suzu to go ALONE??? What does Suzu showing up actually accomplish to help the situation? I get the whole thing of her overcoming her grief by coming to understand her mother and her choice to act, and the tension of that scene was very well done, but what are we expected to believe comes AFTER???)

And like. I'm not a dummy about picking up on the grief that Suzu and the Beast share with each other. It's very obvious with the broken portrait, the spilled roses, and the glimpse into Beast's real life. But I wish they would have spent more time explicitly extrapolating on that point and having them bond in some way more than "this person continued to try to reach out to me even when I pushed them away". I wish they had room for some realer feeling semblance of friendship to bloom between them that wasn't just the Ballroom scene being shoved in there just to go "hey look it's Beauty and the Beast!!!". I know allegorically that the dance was them opening up to one another, but it still felt like these characters had almost no real basis for a friendship that strong. Suzu is obsessed from the start with asking the Beast "who are you" instead of "why do you fight like that", and I think that's the more important question to know the answer to. And also the one more approachable!!! Like fuck. Imagine meeting a stranger online and you need to find out who they really are behind the screen before you know literally anything else about them. And she kinds flops between having a desire to find out and wanting to protect his privacy, and I guess this is a way of her wanting to connect to this person, but also empathizing and knowing how important HER privacy is to her. But it's just ??????

Anyway, uh.

It was a pretty film. Very cool to look at, with interesting ideas, but presented with a clunky way of trying to explore them. Overall execution left me feeling like I didn't need to watch this film a second time. But in U, Moderators will doxx you in open forum if you fuck up enough, and that's a hilarious concept to me.

#edit: I forgot about the news report where the dad says the mom is dead but STILL #WHY DO KEI AND SUZU NEVER TALK ABOUT IT

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straycatboogie · 1 year

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2023/03/30 English

BGM: The Stone Roses - Fools Gold

A band from The UK, The Stone Roses, sings their song "I Wanna Be Adored". Yes, I'm impressed that it's quite a honest attitude. But, I even can feel certainly that the emotion of "I Wanna Be Adored" occurs in me. Of course, I neve want to lose the modesty to let myself into that kind of too proud emotion. But I confess that I had lived with naming myself as "I am just a human junk". So I say to myself, "Quite a great change", with a little bit cynically. Probably it's simply from my desire which comes from the fact I have been affirmed and praised by the "danshu" meeting and another meeting about autism. But, needless to say, I should show a certain result. Without that, any proudful comments would end as a silly "big mouth" in the end. I should show any result. Now I can't show it. I shouldn't get enough of the 600 days diary.

After finishing reading Koutarou Sawaki's "Bourbon Street", I started his "Chain Smoking". In this book an essay titled as "Too Old" appears. It's the comparison between the boxing's reality that over 40s boxers should go away from the ring and the reality of journalism (in this world, they can be active until the end of their lives). It's really a profound essay to read. I am now 48 years old, and now I'm thinking that the current job would be my life work as a business person. Maybe until my senior age (the retirement age)... Basically, I started my job from the motivation as "I might be able to keep on doing for over half a year", so I couldn't predict that this would be long as now. That could be a life. But, how would I live, I would have to experience to go down from the "peak". I, however at least, want to keep the will to climb up to become a great person in my mind. My vitality fades away, but my personality as a human being could get richer until the end (of course, it must not be so easy because that's life).

I got a message from a woman from Russia, who we met on Facebook. We exchanged the messages. I said that I had been from Waseda university, learned English literature and still now read as an activity of my free time, been diagnosed as an autistic person in 2007, been working as a handicapped person... I thought myself as a survivor of a "complicated" life. But I have to explain about this with the unknown economic depression of Japan and also I am from the "lost generation" from that. She seems to find a clue from my experiences because she has children who show some autistic characters. But I have never known any information about autism from Russia, and also have been single whole of my life. So all I just can say is "Sorry, I can say nothing". I am ashamed because of this fact,. But if my friends could say some advice as supporters from Japan to help her, I would be a translator between them (I wish it wouldn't end in vain).

This evening I attended a meeting on ZOOM. It was about the life in an isle of Japan. I never had any interest in it, so I could learn how the life of the isle next to Korea could be. I need to get improved this sense of internationalism so it was a precious learning. After that, I didn't want to read more so just did hangout on Discord. I enjoyed an user's trial of translating Yasunari Kawabata's "Snow Country" and thought how I could do that as mine (of course, it is absolutely impossible for me). And I read an introduction of Charmers' book "Reality+". I searched for the info about that book at the site of the library, and found that they are in there so decided to read them. It can happen, therefore I can't stop wasteful hangout. TBH I have never read Charmer's books (I just know him as a father of the concept "philosophical zombies"). Does this book lead me to the philosophy again?

#diary #english #journal #tumblr diary

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chocosvt · 3 years

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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

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tricksters-captain · 3 years

Text

Helmut Zemo (TFATWS) imagines - Craving

AN: Okay I’ve given in and become a Zemo simp but Bucky is still my number one don't worry.

Summary: After playing the part as Zemo's arm candy in Madripoor, Zemo tries to confront you on your unspoken connection, only to be rudely interrupted...

Pairing(s): Zemo x Fem!Reader, very slight Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,326

Warnings: Some small spoilers for Ep3, lots of sexual tension

“I still can’t believe I agreed to do this.” You grumbled as you climbed the stairs, falling behind at the fear the men could see straight up the skirt of the dress Zemo had chosen for you.

“I, for one, think you have the easiest job of us all. James must be someone he detests, Sam must be a notorious criminal he doesn’t know and you must sit and look pretty.” Zemo spoke under his breath as you came to the entrance of Selby’s HQ.

You glared at the man but he didn’t care. He was too busy worrying about Selby.

The door was opened for you by one of Selby’s men. Zemo nodded curtly at the guard before entering.

You went ahead of Bucky and Sam to stay close to Zemo, following your role as his current inamorata.

It was a short walk into Selby’s office but with every step you could feel the fear rising in your chest. You weren’t convinced that you’d get away with this; Sam wasn't exactly the most kosher criminal and Zemo’s story didn’t quite add up on just how he managed to have the Winter Soldier in his mitts again.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Selby spoke as she came into view. She was an expensively dressed woman with a short white pixie cut.

Zemo sat down opposite her but you remained next to Sam.

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo waved his finger as he spoke. It was a small yet dominant motion directed towards you. You tried not to clench your jaw as you walked towards him.

“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Selby’s eyes followed your every move as you made your way over to Zemo. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo held out his hand to you, guiding you to stand behind him. “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby cocked her head towards Sam.

Sam’s only response was a quick nod of his head. Selby purred at Sam, a wolfish smile on her face.

“What’s the offer?” Selby turned back to Zemo. Her eyes flickered up to you before landing back on Zemo’s face. You weren’t stupid you knew what her gaze meant.

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum.” Zemo pushed himself out of his chair. You watched him cross behind Bucky, placing his hands on Bucky's shoulders. “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”

Selby grinned widely as Zemo wobbled Bucky’s chin with his forefinger and thumb, showing just how under control the ‘Winter Soldier’ was.

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately.” Selby seemed to be convinced. “Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right.”

Zemo returned to his seat before Selby continued.

“The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or... condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but... things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked.

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” Selby rose from her chair, finding a place beside Sam as she very openly let her eyes roll down your body now that you were in her full view.

“What else do you desire?” Zemo questioned. He had clocked onto Selby’s behaviour and didn’t really need to ask to know what the answer was going to be.

“Her.” Selby pointed you out. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she awaited Zemo’s response.

“No, no, no.” Zemo tutted, holding out his hand for you to take. “This little bird only sings for me.” Zemo guided you round the side of his chair and pulled you gently onto his lap. You crossed your legs as you tried not to seem uncomfortable. The scent of the Baron’s cologne, mixed with his strong grip on your waist was making your heart race. You had never been this close to Zemo before and now you were sat on his knee with his arm around you.

“Well, you’ll make her sing for me or you won’t be getting what you want now, Baron, will ya?” Selby wasn’t playing games. She folded her arms across her chest, cocking her eyebrows at Zemo.

Zemo titled his head as he thought.

You felt yourself tense up when he placed a cool leather clad hand on your thigh. His fingers started to draw circles on your skin, edging your skirt higher, drawing Selby’s eyes down to your legs.

“She is very dear to me.” Zemo stated. He retracted his hand from your thigh to brush your hair from your shoulder, his finger traced a line from your jaw down your neck to your collarbone. Zemo, being so close, could see the goosebumps that covered your skin at his touch.

“Unless you have something better to offer other than your two play things, Baron, I suggest you hand them over to me... unless you don’t want the whereabouts of Dr Nagel.” Selby let her smile drop.

“I will––” Zemo was cut short by Sam’s phone going off.

“Answer it.” Selby suddenly lost all interest in the deal and only desired to prove the authenticity of the Smiling Tiger. “On speaker.”

That’s where things went wrong.

For the rest of the trip in Madripoor, you didn’t get the time to confront yourself and Zemo on what happened back there.

You were so confused to why you reacted the way you did. You had never been attracted to Zemo before but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he smelt, the way his breath tickled against your arm, the way the heat radiated out from under his thick coat.

You knew he was thinking about it too.

Every time you let yourself glance over at him, he was watching you and not in the same way as he usually would. You knew too well that Zemo often studied his surroundings like a hawk. He was silent and observant; he always knew where he would go next and he often watched you, Sam and Bucky as if he were calculating your next moves.

It wasn’t until you arrived in Latvia that you were confronted by your feelings again.

You were sat at the island in the kitchen as you ran your hands over your face and hair. You were tired.

“You should rest.” Zemo’s voice suddenly snuck up on you.

He had been so quiet walking into the kitchen that you hadn't even noticed he was there.

“I should but insomnia kinda comes with the job.” You sat up, trying not to act any different from how you usually would.

“Ah. My time in a cell has acquainted me with such the dilemma.” Zemo confessed as he moved towards the cupboards on the back wall.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t help but watch his hands as they reached for the coffee pot, his fingers gripping it lightly. You could still recall the feeling of the cool leather on your thigh, his touch climbing higher as he pushed your skirt up...

“Coffee?” Zemo offered, interrupting your thoughts as he raised a mug and an eyebrow at you.

“Please.” You folded your hands together as you leant on the island.

There was a brief comfortable silence as Zemo fixed up some coffee for you both. He could feel your eyes on him but he didn’t say anything. He just let the corner of his lips tugged into a smirk as he poured you a cup. He let the smirk drop when he turned to face you.

He slid the cup along the countertop and you thanked him quietly. He pushed a thin smile onto his face for a second before returning to his usual stoic expression.

“There was something I wished to discuss with you actually.” Zemo announced as he picked up his own cup.

You almost choked on your drink at the words but you hid behind your mug, hoping he didn’t notice. He did.

“About what?” You asked.

“I wanted to apologise for Madripoor.” Zemo surprised you with that.

“Apologise?” You were confused to what he was talking about.

“I am aware that it was merely a role, that we were undercover, but I touched you without your consent. I wanted to apologise for when we were with Selby.”

You were completely shocked. You didn’t not expect this from Zemo at all.

“It’s okay. We all have to do stuff we don't want to do on missions like these.” You tried to brush it off. After all, Bucky had to become the Winter Soldier and Sam had to drink a cobra’s heart back in Madripoor. There was definitely worse things that could’ve happened.

“I never said I didn’t want to do it. I am simply apologising for not asking for permission first.” Zemo’s eyes were glued to your face as he sipped his coffee. He was watching for a reaction.

You felt your mouth go dry, you tried to swallow as you began to rise from your seat.

“Uh, t-thanks for the coffee, Zemo but...” You tried grabbing your mug but you only knocked it to the floor by accident.

“Shit!” You hissed as you bent down, picking up the broken bits. You felt your heart racing from the look Zemo had just given you.

Zemo rushed around the island with a rag, he placed it over the split coffee before taking hold of your wrist to stop you from picking up the pieces.

Electricity shot up your arm and your head snapped up to meet his eyes.

“No use crying over spilt coffee.” Zemo muttered, a smile tugging on one corner of his mouth.

“I-I wasn’t––”

“––Is there a particular reason you are so jumpy tonight?” Zemo inquired.

You rose back to standing; Zemo let your wrist go as you did but followed your action.

The air was thick between you as you withheld your answer.

There was no way you could admit you were worried of being close to him because of the undeniable pull he had on you since that night.

“I think...” Zemo stepped over the soaked rag which only made you take a step back. “...You enjoyed being touched and now you are confused to why.”

Your chest began to rise and fall heavily as Zemo continued to walk towards you until your back hit the wall behind you.

“But forgive me if I am wrong.” Zemo held his hands up with a smile, taking his final few steps until he was close enough for his cologne to engulf the air around you.

“You are.” You whispered but your voice had failed you in sounding convincing.

“Is that right, little bird?” Zemo used the pet name he had given you in Selby's office. He lifted his hand to brush your hair from your cheek behind your ear. “Because I believe you haven’t stop thinking about it. Just as I haven't.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You only just breathed out your words. If Zemo hadn’t been so close, he wouldn’t have heard them.

“Don’t you?” Zemo titled his head at you. “Because I am at liberty to remind you that I once worked for Sokivian intelligence. It was my job for a long time to study people, learn them, read them.” Zemo let his eyes drop down to your body before coming back to meet your eyes. “I can tell how a person is feeling just from observing their body. The way they move. The way they are breathing.” Zemo placed his hand in the centre of your chest where your silver necklace sat. The metal burned against your skin underneath Zemo’s warm flesh.

Your slow deep breaths lifted Zemo’s hand up and down as you stared back at him.

“I can feel your heart racing.” Zemo uttered. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” You shook your head as your eyes flickered to the man’s lip for just a second.

“Good.” Zemo smirked.

Suddenly Zemo was ripped away from you.

Bucky had teared Zemo back and pushed him across the room. Zemo staggered backwards before standing and adjusting his sweater from how Bucky had grabbed him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bucky growled at Zemo with a look in his eye that could kill.

“I was merely having a conversation with (Y/n).” Zemo shrugged, acting as if everything was perfectly innocent.

“Oh yeah it looked like a real polite conversation with (Y/n) backed up in a corner and your hands on her!” Sam was stood behind Bucky. The both of them were squaring up in front of Zemo to protect you.

“I didn’t need your help.” You stepped forward, trying to intervene.

“You put your hands on her again; I won’t stop myself next time. I’ll turn you into a new coat.” Bucky warned Zemo as he ignored you.

“I apologise.” Zemo lifted his hands up in defence.

“No.” Sam pointed back to you. “Apologise to her.”

Zemo turned his head to you. When your eyes met, he smirked just ever so slightly, you knew the boys didn’t notice at least.

“I apologise, (Y/n).” The way your name sounded in Zemo’s mouth made your stomach flip.

“It’s fine.” You said before pushing past Bucky and Sam. You hated it when they played protective big brothers and you didn’t even need saving... You think...

(PART 2)

#baron zemo #Helmut Zemo #Zemo #Zemo x reader #zemo imagines #Helmut zemo x reader #Helmut Zemo imagines #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier imagines #daniel brühl #Daniel bruhl imagines #Daniel bruhl x reader #Bucky barnes #Sam Wilson #imagines

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you!

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro.

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr. All credit goes to her!

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

"I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him.

"Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls.

"Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh.

Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there.

"How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly.

Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have.

"Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often.

"Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

"But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

"The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening.

Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham.

From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully.

"Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face.

"Baby monk, ya alright?"

Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her.

"Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell.

When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!"

That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest.

"It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe.

"Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.

Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb.

Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

"I did tell you."

"That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster."

And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

"Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

"How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business.

"Would you like to meet him first?"

A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about.

He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached.

"Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her.

"Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

"Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

"When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

"Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk.

"Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

"Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought.

That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

"You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice.

"Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement.

"I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked.

"I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile.

He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

"No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

"It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

"Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement.

"Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings.

Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared.

"No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be.

"She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face.

"Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

"Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

"I will if I must."

"Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares."

Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

"That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more.

As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

*****

Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes.

During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light.

So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time.

Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane.

Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's.

Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met.

Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step.

On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home.

After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench.

There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step.

*****

"So, what is going on between you and Cedric?"

You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

"You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

"Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it.

Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it.

Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

"Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer.

You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches.

The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else.

Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky.

A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.

"He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence.

Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.

"Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

"Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral.

Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own.

"But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed.

"Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance.

Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

"Your mother will let me in."

"Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later.

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

*****

"What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal.

Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason.

When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer.

"Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him.

"Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

"Yes." You breathed out.

He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now.

"Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

"Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step.

"But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see.

That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

"He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true.

The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes.

"If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies.

As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.

"THANK YA, GOD!!"

The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness.

"Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled.

You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be.

"Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin.

"Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face.

"Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead."

Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric.

Just how you wanted it.

Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released.

"I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you.

"Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours.

"You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?"

It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry.

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