#each rose colour can interpret a meaning

[mossizi]

The flower field is a reference to a deleted scene in Biollante vs Godzilla :>

[caeboa]

"Mmm? So you can finally see cute li'l me."

The pair / alternate side to my first Shinigami flower art, featuring our favourite puffy partner~! And true to her character here are some multi-faceted flower meanings for her. Blue flowers often stand for trust, inspiration and mystery, while purple can represent royalty, elegance or magic. For our crowned Mystery Labyrinth queen, a pretty fitting colour scheme. The first flower I included here was the Balloon Flower, a five pointed star like flower than comes primarily in blue hues. It's name comes from the way it puffs up before blooming, like a little balloon, much like our friendly death god! It has a vast amount of meanings from different cultures. In general gift meanings it means endless love, honesty and obedience, some things Shinigami says she'll offer her Master. In Victorian flower language it can symbolize the desire for a friend to return. In medieval Japan it meant magic and divination, as well as the five elements. In many places in Europe it meant the fives senses, and some it simply references a pentagram. The Columbine Flower, shown here in purple, pink and blue, with white petals in one layer and coloured pointed spurs behind each. In latin, the common name comes from the word for dove, for the white petals, though it's scientific name comes from eagle, for the talon like spurs. In Celtic belief, the flower is associated with portals between worlds. The Greeks meanwhile, attribute the flower to Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. Some interpretations associate the columbine with foolishness & innocence due to it's shape matching that of a jester's hat. Modern meanings link this flower to Strength & Wisdom, with blue for calm, pink for happiness, and purple for success, and given to show the determination to win! And Monkshood, sometimes called aconite, wolfsbane, devil's helmet, has more ominous meanings. "Beware, a deadly foe is near." It is highly poisonous and deeply entrenched in myth and legend. In Greek myth it has been said to come from the drips of the fangs of Cerberus, guardian of the underworld. Unsurprisingly it means death in many places, but also caution and misanthropy. Perhaps perfect for a death good sneering at humans who commit murder? Lastly, the roses in their various colours. Purple for fascination, enchantment or wonder, blue for mystery & the impossible, and black for death & certainty.

[lensman-arms-race]

I got an idea a bit ago from your brain worms thing about gift from the hardwares. What if they give eachother shiny rocks/pretty metals?

Think about it. We organic humans commonly give each other organic flowers for a sense of love and security. It would make sense for the alliance to give eachother gemstones/pretty rocks that they found? Inorganic to inorganic(in a sense) and this can go many ways with different meanings. There is bismuth, which is a metal that is hardish to find/make and if quite the pretty and exotic find, as well as geodes. Perhaps hardware scientists give their loved ones bismuth or other chemically made rocks or metals to be used as decorations, and scouts not only give their loved ones random pretty rocks, but also seashells and any other trinkets that they find nice.

This could also work practically, assuming that all the factions, like the tvs, have parts that can be de-attached and replaced. A hardware could give their partner some nice metal and they will be like ‘ah thanks bae, I can now have pink arm guards :D’

And you have some inter-species symbolism for you; Cygnus could give Phaeton a rose, but the rose is carved out of rock of crystal. An organic gift that is made of inorganic. And Phaeton could give Cygnus a strange moss covered rock, or some other inorganic that that has organic elements to it (or a geode).

This is filed by my love of pretty rocks and seashells.

I llike this idea! Thank you for sharing.

Maybe individual hardwares like to collect a specific colour of mineral, like how bowerbird species collect a specific colour of item (male bowerbirds impress the females with their collections of coloured objects).

(I myself actually collect quartz crystals in real life because I enjoy their chunky shape - they're like cartoon crystals!)

Haha, I love the bathos of Cygnus presenting Phaeton with a stone carving that took effort to make, and Phaeton going 'uhh, damp rock I found, here you go'. :D (I think you were going for a nicer interpretation, but that's where my mind went.)

Maybe a desert rose (as in the type of crystal) would be a nice organic/inorganic gift? Inorganic thing that looks organic. Or a fossil - that's literally both organic and inorganic. Hard to find too, which makes them more precious.

[kosukeiichi]

Oh my god I accidentally submitted the ask before I can finish I’m sorry 😭

I was trying to say: how do you feel about the unironic “kairi and keiichiro are like brothers” take. Or “they are like son and father” take which is probably the worst one and I only see it on reddit. Like you can read them in many ways but there are… blatantly wrong ways

i'm putting this in , going to wear that " de-facto best lupat page " with pride .

anyways !! i've been waiting for forever to get this down on my page . it's something i've put a lot of thought into .

basically , sure yes there are a lot of interpretations on what exactly is the nature of kairi and keiichirou's relationship . but i'm someone who enjoys reading into subtext and really dissecting the why of everything . such as , if they were supposed to be brothers , why would the themes of episode 30 be that of " someone you admired " in a romantic nature .

a lot of people bring episode 30 up a lot to also defend the whole , kairi sees keiichirou as shouri thing , especially with that one scene in the end , but i think that scene is supposed to show that they're not similar at all . sure , they both play a part of " someone who is good " in kairi's life . but if they really were trying to make a callback to the brother , wouldn't the writers make keiichirou say a similar line to shouri instead of what he did .

it's not hard to realize that keiichirou's " you lent me a hand back then , after all . " and shouri's " you waited for me even when you didn't want to . " have completely different meanings when it comes to kairi , right ? shouri's words imply that kairi's doing good by letting someone else do the good . meanwhile keiichirou says it like kairi had a hand in helping too .

that's why , i don't think the scenes of episode 30 were comparing keiichirou and shouri as a " big brother " figure , but more of a " person who is good " figure is kairi's life .

not to mention for episode 30 ... sure the gangler's lupin collection had nothing to do with kairi and keiichirou at first , but even so , in the past we've seen the song and collection chosen to represent an episode fit with the episode's theme before . so , why would they make the episode's collection be la vie en rose ?

la vie en rose is a song by edith piaf . the title translates to " life in pink " or " life through rose-coloured glasses " . it's a love song , you can definitely find the english translations online . now don't tell me , this isn't what a small part of kairi is feeling ... if he could allow keiichirou in , if he could show his true feelings , maybe he could wear those rose-coloured glasses .

again , it goes back to the whole kairi sees himself as an inherently bad person thing , with shouri and after that keiichirou being the " good " , the opposite , the person kairi looks up to and longs for but they may never cross . because ... kairi is a bad person , isn't he ? how could he ever be like them ... he doesn't even deserve to be with them ...

another thing i'd like to point out from episode 30 before i move on . why would they put in the throwaway line about arsene giving splash to the girl he fell in love with ? that line was insignificant , and it wasn't even a joke . UNLESS you read it as a parallel to kairi and keiichirou's relationship . after all , it was keiichirou who gave kairi splash , wasn't it ?

there is a possibility that they were meant to be sibling-like since the start . but it's sentai , guaranteed some of these episodes were only written weekly , things change all the time and i think people should take that into consideration as well .

now here's the fun part , talking about it from the actors' perspective ... !!

i'll start off with giving them what they want i guess . in an photobook interview , when w red was asked , what do they mean to each other , kousei yuuki answered that keiichirou is like a brother to kairi .... he then proceeded to say that it's different from how shouri is kairi's brother , and different to how keiichirou cares for both tsukasa and sakuya . he ends with saying that they have a " special relationship " , that kairi is a " special person " to keiichirou .

so well ... tell me i'm not reading too far into this , but isn't this kind of giving the feeling of ... how do you describe the close relationship between two men , they can't be in love right .... they just can't right ... it really feels like the whole historians would call them close friends thing .

moving on to THE MAN OF THE HOUR !!! THE ONE CARRYING US ALL !! IT IS ASAHI ITOU COMING IN TO CHANGE QUEER TOKU HISTORY !!!! LEADING UP TO kairi is lgbt - he kissed !!!!!!

okay , so . first of all , i'd like to preface this by saying that while asahi has not been vocally supportive of the queer community , he has been in multiple queer or queer coded roles and talked about how his character's experiences should be listened to too .

and kairi is certainly no exception ... asahi itou has said before in a magazine interview , he is very considerate when playing kairi . he understands kairi as a character , that he has " two faces " . asahi plays him as such . he says how first he always considers kairi's feelings , before acting as the figurative and literal mask he has on . so clearly , asahi cares about this role very much .

and i've spoken about it before , the many times asahi has said how much kairi loves keiichirou . sure the word he used was the less extreme " suki " or like , but even then , why would he say that if kairi could , he'd want to tell keiichirou he loves him . sure , some part of it might be pandering to the fans , and some might try to argue that we shouldn't listen to what the actors say because they're not the writers . but the thing about tokusatsu is , especially for the main cast , the actors also have a role in building up that image of a character . so why shouldn't we listen to asahi ?

anyways i'm sorry for ranting on about w red when you only asked about the whole brothers thing , but it felt appropriate to assess all sides of the relationship too . meanwhile , for the father and son thing .... i think redditors should look into therapy or watch some family movies or something because JUST BECAUSE ONE MAN CARES FOR ANOTHER , IT DOESN'T AUTOMATICALLY MAKE THEM FAMILIAL !??!?!

that's all , i guess ... if you have any more questions and want some things to be cleared up , feel free to ask !! this goes for anyone on my blog as well , my turbo autism about lupat never stops

[alexturntable]

Lots of theories on the song meaning. What do you think?

I have to admit I haven’t really had time to think about the lyrics because everything about the song and the video has been super overwhelming.

Here are my first thoughts.

The first line “don’t get emotional“ immediately reminded me of Alex’s words “I'm getting to a place that's a bit gooey. And I don't know if I want to get gooey” from The Big Issue interview. It seems that he’s been feeling very nostalgic and emotional lately and he’s telling himself that he shouldn’t. And then “you're getting cynical and that won't do I'd throw the rose tint back on the exploded view” feels like he’s telling himself to look at life through rose coloured glasses again and pretend that everything is good so basically to avoid getting gooey and emotional.

On the surface it seems to be about a romantic relationship that’s ending, which is a theme he’s written about a lot before.

But maybe this is not just about a romantic relationship but about relationships in general and how people change and move on and how all relationships eventually end. Kinda like in The Ultracheese.

“So can we please be absolutely sure that there’s a mirrorball” what the mirrorball could represent is dancing or parties so this could be a reference to him wanting to have one last good memory before the relationship ends.

For me the song evokes feelings of warmth and sadness and nostalgia. It seems to have come from a deeply emotional place and the real meaning behind the words may stay with Alex but the great thing about songs is that they evoke different feelings for each one of us and that makes every interpretation valid.

[ajenvs3000w23]

ENVS*3000 Entry 1 Relationship with Nature

My love of animals has led me down a path where I learned much about nature and animal behaviour over the course of my life through books and television and YouTube. This evolved my relationship with nature as I came to understand not just how beautiful nature is, but how brutal it can be as well. However, as a dog owner and someone is very in demand as a dog walker in my neighbourhood, I have also become much more exposed to the sheer volume of people who really do not understand the brutality and toughness of nature at all. Who offers me this exposure? Other dog owners in my neighbourhood would be my first example. The pandemic has caused the number of dogs in my neighbourhood to skyrocket and many of the new and inexperienced owners do not seem to know what they are doing. However, that has little to do with their lack of understanding about nature. Their lack of nature knowledge comes through when I talk to them about their dogs, and then I discover just how married they are to the idea that their pet is a fragile little baby who can become hospitalized or traumatized by just about anything. In my eyes, this causes them to be unimaginably soft towards their pets and they never embrace the idea of having to sometimes be stern with the dog. And what do I see as a result of this? Dogs that are not very well behaved. I know that dogs are descended from wolves, which means they are built to be physically much tougher than a human. Therefore, I would say that my analysis of this phenomenon is what gives me a sense of place in nature, as well as a sense of my role as a nature interpreter. I see how tough nature is, but since I know that other people around me do not, I should be willing to speak to them in a way that expands their understanding and therefore can make them less upset about the horrors that nature can offer. One other smaller example I will offer is when I watch nature videos of animals either hunting each other or fighting each other. In the background audio of these videos, you can sometimes hear people behind the camera person getting very upset at what they are watching. If I am ever to work as a nature guide one day, I must be able to explain to my audience that this is what nature is. The same thing goes for helping my clients as a dog walker. I have observed that some of my clients need to understand that their dog is not really a soft animal, and that being soft with their animal is not a good recipe for a well-behaved pet. However, in both situations described here, I think this course will do well in teaching me how to explain these concepts to people in a gentle way without making them feel judged or shamed for having, for lack of a better term, a perspective on nature through rose-coloured glasses.

[pleasantbarbariangentlemen]

15 Unique Half Sleeve Tattoos For Women

Unique half sleeve tattoos for women:

FIND HERE BEST HALF SLEEVE TATTOOS

Undoubtedly, a half-sleeve tattoo attracts attention, but it can also contain potent symbolism. They normally begin at the top of the arm and stop halfway, near the elbow, as their name implies. Due to the ability to choose to cover up if desired, this option is also more covert than a complete sleeve.

The appeal of these patterns is that you may add as many pieces as you desire to your body art to make it unique and meaningful—your ingenuity is the only restriction. Let your tattoo tell a personal tale about you.

For instance, you might desire a skull to represent your feelings on mortality or death.Or perhaps you want a tattoo of a tiger to symbolise how much you appreciate strength, independence, and freedom.

Take a look at these unique half-sleeve tattoo designs if you need ideas for your next tattoo.

1.Flower sleeve Tattoos for females

Women frequently choose flower sleeve tattoos because they can represent femininity, beauty, and nature. These tattoos frequently have a pattern of flowers or vines that wrap around the arm, producing an attractive and frequently significant design.

These tattoos frequently feature roses, lilies, or lotus flowers, each of which has a unique symbolic value. The tattoos can be made in many different designs, such as photorealistic or watercolour, and can be personalised with various colours and patterns to suit the wearer's preferences.

Flower sleeve tattoos are a lovely and long-lasting method to beautify the female body, whether they are intended to commemorate a specific occasion or to express uniqueness.

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2.Chinese jade culture Tattoo

Tattoos with designs derived from historic Chinese jade items are known as Chinese jade culture tattoos. Since ancient times, jade has been a significant emblem in Chinese culture and is said to bring luck, wealth, and protection on those who wear it. Intricate carvings on jade tattoos, such dragons, phoenixes, and Taoist symbols, are frequently used to convey a sense of power, beauty, and spiritual significance. These tattoos can be both aesthetically pleasing and symbolic, evoking China's rich cultural legacy.

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3.Flower half sleeve Tattoos for Females

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4.Humming bird Tattoos

Depending on the culture and the personal symbolism linked to it by the person getting the tattoo, a hummingbird tattoo can have a variety of meanings. Typical hummingbird tattoo interpretations include the Freedom and lightness, Love, devotion, joy and positivity.

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5. Slice Apple

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6. Lower sleeve daisy flower

The daisy tattoo symbolizes purity, innocence, and true love. Daisy flower tattoo is one of the most popular tattoos for women.

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7.Golden fish Tattoo

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8. Dancing Girl

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9.Mother Mary Tatto

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10.Asthetic Tattoos

Tattoos that promote artistic expression and aesthetic appeal over conventional symbolic meanings are referred to as aesthetic tattoos. These tattoos frequently have simple layouts, soft hues, and delicate lines, with an emphasis on producing an aesthetically pleasant composition on the skin.

Simple geometric tattoos, abstract artwork, floral designs, and nature-inspired themes are all examples of aesthetic tattoos. On improve the wearer's appearance and sense of style, they are frequently applied to exposed body parts including the arms, neck, and legs.

Recent years have seen a rise in the popularity of aesthetic tattoos, with many people seeking out tattoo artists who specialise in producing visually attractive, cutting-edge designs.

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Types of half sleeve tattoos:

Upper Half sleeve:

A half-sleeve extends from your shoulder to your elbow, with the pattern often encircling the entire arm. The upper arm, also referred to as the arm proper (or brachium), is made up of a humerus with an elbow joint at the distal end. Around the elbow joint, which you may refer to as the "funny bone," you'll feel more sensitivity. For individuals with a poor pain tolerance, it might not be amusing, but the outcome—a stylish half-sleeve—makes it all worthwhile.

For those who desire a striking tattoo but may need to cover it up at work, a half-sleeve is also ideal.

Lower Half sleeve:

Alternately, a half-sleeve that extends from the elbow to the wrist can be worn. Technically speaking, this qualifies as a forearm sleeve. Putting semantics aside, it's a fantastic method for clients to have the "effect" of a full sleeve without committing to a full sleeve. It will look like you have a whole sleeve unless you're wearing a tank top or a t-shirt that has been raised up.

Quarter-Sleeve

From the shoulder halfway down the upper arm to the elbow, a quarter-sleeve extends. The entire space is covered in the design. For people who would like a half or full sleeve someday but must avoid getting one for whatever reason (time, money, or current employment), this is a perfect entry tattoo.

Does Getting a Tattoo Sleeve Hurt?

It hurts to get a tattoo sleeve.

The length of time you spend under the needle—rather than the area what makes tattoo sleeves unpleasant.

It's wise to be aware of the process before making the decision because full and half arm sleeves require numerous sessions, each lasting several hours.

The elbow, inner elbow, wrist, and armpit are the parts of the arm where getting a tattoo hurts the most.

Everyone has a different threshold for pain, but if you are aware of your poor pain tolerance, a tattoo sleeve might not be for you.

How long do half sleeve tattoos take to heal?

The visible portion of the skin's outer layer, which has a tattoo, usually heals in 2 to 3 weeks. It might take up to 6 months for the skin beneath a tattoo to properly heal, despite the fact that it could appear and feel healed and you might be tempted to cut back on the aftercare.

Summary:

The decision to have tattoo sleeves is one that will take time, technique, and patience.

It can be very difficult to settle on just one tattoo because there are so many different designs and symbols that can be used.

This is what makes tattoo sleeves so distinctive; you get to combine a wide variety of forms, symbols, hues, and artistic motifs to produce a unified work of art that you can be proud to own.

[the-hem]

"Desert Blooms." From the Chandogya Upanishad, the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Priesthood.

Chapter IV − The Threefold Development further explained

1 "The red colour of gross fire is the colour of the original fire; the white colour of gross fire is the colour of the original water; the black colour of gross fire is the colour of the original earth. Thus vanishes from fire what is commonly called fire, the modification being only a name, arising from speech, while the three colours (forms) alone are true.

2 "The red colour of the sun is the colour of fire, the white the colour of water, the black the colour of earth. Thus vanishes from the sun what is commonly called the sun, the modification being only a name, arising from speech, while the three colours alone are true.

3 "The red colour of the moon is the colour of fire, the white the colour of water, the black the colour of earth. Thus vanishes from the moon what is commonly called the moon, the modification being only a name, arising from speech, while the three colours alone are true.

4 "The red colour of lightning is the colour of fire, the white the colour of water, the black the colour of earth. Thus vanishes from lightning what is commonly called lighting, the modification being only a name, arising from speech, while the three colours alone are true.

5 "It was just through this knowledge that the great householders and great Vedic scholars of olden times declared: ‘No one can now mention to us anything which we have not heard, thought of, or known.’ They knew all from these three forms.

6−7 "Whatever, appeared red they knew to be the colour of fire; whatever appeared white they knew to be the colour of water; whatever appeared black they knew to be the colour of earth. "Whatever appeared to be unknown they knew to be the combination of these three deities (i.e. colours). Now learn from me, my dear, how these three deities, when they reach man, become each of them tripartite.

Objects have color due to the ways their surfaces reflect and refract sunlight. This is concrete and absolute. Instead of saying “look at that beautiful 700 nm rose,” We say is it is “red”.

Some smart ass could easily come along and actually measure the color and say, “Oh but no, it’s a 650 nm rose, which makes it orange.”

We live in a world made sumptuous through language, the transformation of the blandly objective to the subjective. While totally awesome to explain that red fire is the cause of the constituents in the fuel:

We need to assert its beauty or how revolting it is depending on how we interpret their meaning through the senses. Nature doesn't come with an inborn label for these things that is capable of registering on the senses, like "acceptable" or "detestable."

The spontaneous and deliberate creation of beauty and ugliness is called art. Their effort is called work, appreciation is called intellection, response to them is called emotion.

A preponderance towards or away from beauty and what is repulsive is called bias. A collection of biases is called “yourself”.

To divinify or demonize beauty and its counterpart, ugliness based on personal emotional hysteria is called superstition.

The Gematria for verse 6-7, 17178, fire, water, earth, expressed as 17-17-5-3=יזיזיהג‎, yezizih, yeshati, in Sanskrit, "to boil up".

ye= God

ziz= flower

ih= drought

"God's Desert Flower."

Beauty in the world and in the mind is not a right, it is a privilege, a blessing God has provided to us in amounts well beyond our needs, and also the ability to make it out of thin air all by ourselves.

[ohcanadashop]

5 Top Hoodie Patterns For Customized Hoodies In 2023 || OhCanadaShop

Custom hoodies are sweatshirts featuring one-of-a-kind prints that are frequently produced by a graphic designer, photographer, or artist. Custom hoodies are simple to sell if you know what you're doing, so if you're trying to spread your work to the globe or start a new business, this is a great option. Start by setting up an online store on a platform like Etsy or Shopify, then partner with a print-on-demand (POD) vendor to handle order fulfillment while you concentrate on making the magic.

Because they are adaptable, comfortable to wear while relaxing and out and about, and accepted as fashionable in almost every nation on the planet, hoodies are a common article of apparel. Customers may express themselves while wearing your hoodies because of the softness and comfort they provide.

Your designs should be imaginative, of the highest caliber, and distinctive, whether you're making Comfy Canadian Hoodies For Sale, unisex hoodies, men's hoodies, women's hoodies, or hoodies for children and babies. To find out what to think about when designing a successful hoodie, continue reading.

1. sports-related patterns

It's crucial to remember that, in order to avoid any legal repercussions, you shouldn't use official logos or pictures while making sports-themed designs. When looking for ideas for sports designs, use your imagination and keep in mind that sports enthusiasts enjoy wearing distinctive fan gear to events like games, tailgates, and viewing parties. Think about each team's location, colours, mascot, notable players, and local culture as you come up with design ideas.

2. designs inspired by bands or artists

Even if it's their favourite band, not everyone wants to (or can afford to) spend more than $100 on a concert hoodie. Fans might be inspired by album art, their favourite song lyrics, or even hand-drawn or painted portraits of their favourite musicians on the best hoodies. Use a group photo of BTS, a silhouette of the Beatles, or your own original interpretations of Taylor Swift's most well-known album covers.

3. designs with motivational quotes

Use inspirational quotes from historical and contemporary individuals to evoke feelings in your audience. Walt Disney's famous quote "If you can dream it, you can do it" and Annette Funicello's "Life does not have to be perfect to be wonderful" are two examples.

Knowing that your audience may draw inspiration from activists, writers, politicians, performers, or scientists will help you create quotation designs that evoke strong emotions in them.

4. Stylish pop culture

Targeting the wardrobe of your millennial and Gen Z audience by drawing inspiration from popular culture is a brilliant strategy. Pop culture provides an unending stream of inspiration as you design sweatshirts, from playful digs at the Kardashians to sarcastic comments from The Office, thoughts from Yellowstone, or Ben Affleck's "I give up" grimace. You undoubtedly have a lot of ideas because your target demographic is likely to be heavily influenced by pop culture references. Start by writing down all the cheekiest references you can think of.

5. designs for college or university hoodies

Designing hoodies with a college or university theme can appeal to students all over the world since nearly every college student dons one before heading to class in the winter. Design funny and inspirational hoodies that celebrate the chaos and struggle of staying up all night studying, having a social life, and having a social life. Include specific majors and fields of study, such as pre-med, law, journalism, or developing artists. Finish it off by making mention of the school's logo, motto, or mascot.

Find out what each chapter's insignia, colors, slogans, and meanings signify if you want to market to Greek life members. You'll discover a lot of motivation and understanding of why Kappa Delta represents the white rose or why Chi Omega represents an owl. These assumptions aid in the development of aesthetically pleasing visual components and details.

[oftarotandnoodledragons]

Fifty-Eight: Eight of Pentacles (Reversed)

I say to you: Make perfect your will. I say: Take no thought of the harvest, But only of proper sowing. -T.S. Eliot, The Rock

If a man empties his purse into his head no one can take it away from him. An investment in knowledge always pays the best interest. -Attributed to Benjamin Franklin

Old Care has a mortgage on every estate, And that's what you pay for the wealth that you get. -John Godfrey Saxe, Gifts of the Gods

Diligence. If nothing else comes out of today's post, then that is the one thing that needs to be taken away as the Eight of Pentacles' overarching meaning. Diligence.

Yep, straight into the meaning, and straight into the application of this card's energies towards this blog. Although I may not be able to update each step of the final quarter of this journey each and every day, the fact that I am updating so soon after years of silence shows diligence. The fact that I'm writing these updates in a careful, considered manner that may take a little time rather than rushing through slipshod each day, shows diligence. And the fact that I am picking up the mantle and learning about these cards once again, shows diligence. But the specific energies I've identified in this drawing are not these – the card came out Reversed, after all.

The Eight of Pentacles is a card that all of my mentors agree on. I don't think I've felt so strong a correlation between their interpretations with any other card. One would probably seek out and highlight their differences were this an academic exercise — I guess I will be doing so, regardless — but that's not what I want to have taken away from this post. Here, I want to highlight the similarities. My process of analysing a card is almost like drawing a picture. First, I see what Bunning's summary is, encapsulated in her over-arching themes - this is the sketch and linework. Thirteen's words then help flesh out Bunning's summary into colour, often with a heaping dose of extra esoteria, that helps show the card's place as a whole in the deck. Brigit, then, adds highlights, often little things that help the picture come out in a new light, and sometimes show that there's more to the picture than there first appeared. Fairchild, on the other hand, seems to be scribbled notes in the margins, but sometimes a little bit of wit and wisdom appears that cuts deep.

So, that's the road I want to take through explaining this card. Bunning's themes are that of "showing diligence", "expanding knowledge", and "paying attention to detail". On one hand, the last theme is part and parcel of being diligent, but as we'll see, it also has its own leg to stand on. Bunning uses Smith's depiction to highlight these themes through the worker being away from the town, shutting out distractions so that they can focus on their work. This worker is the embodiment of Thirteen's assessment where he weaves a story from the Three of Pentacles through to now: the young apprentice rose thanks to backers, ultimately fell from grace, and is now working not to please investors, but their self. It's not a selfish pride, but pride in one's work. Brigit and Thirteen reflect Bunning's "expanding knowledge" through an apprentice seeking knowledge of their craft to attain mastery. That theme also seems rather secondary to that of diligence, where one keeps applied to learning, but it too bears its own fruit. Brigit highlights the honing of one's skills to attain it. She also adds that success can be gained through continued repetition, little by little, day by day – or, as Bunning says, hammering away. It's no wonder that, rather than the scene Smith created, Paschkis's picture is that of tools of craft and trade surrounded by the eight Pentacles, with a hammer being prominent. And that leads me to Fairchild whose interpretation leaves little doubt as to the related theme: one has the strength to provide for those in one's closer circles, but there is much to learn, so stay determined to find the information one lacks.

So, there's a pretty clear picture of this card's representation, but Upright. I drew this card Reversed, so what does that mean for me now? In my analysis, since Bunning doesn't provide individual Reversal interpretations, I turn to Thirteen first who often has fairly simple reinterpretations based on his Upright one, and out comes Opposition, Blockage or Image Reversal, sometimes in combination or sometimes just the one. Here, he says that one's work is not satisfying, is tedious, and perhaps one's efforts are not entirely into it. This was the energy I immediately identified with my own job: I put in long hours between a long commute, and I feel like my efforts have perhaps been wasted. Tedium and dissatisfaction abound.

But that's not the entirety of my interpretation. Brigit, with her Reversals, takes a far more expanded reinterpretation and to that she adds a more nascent energy which, I guess until now, I've not always agreed with as I've seen it as the Upright energy, but with a different hue. I feel as if my dismissal of this has not always been warranted, though. Going back to my picture analogy, one of my favourite art movements is that of Fauvism, where often the form of the picture is obvious, but the technique to display it and the colours used are vivid and unexpected. Brigit's different hue in this case is that of the application of knowledge: rather than the external, worldly knowledge that Bunning speaks of, here it's an internal, introspective knowledge of the self as one seeks to attain self-improvement. Bunning refers to this energy as being that of The Hermit, and while I would have just said that this interpretation belongs under the umbrella of The Hermit's lantern-aided gaze, to have it framed by the Eight of Pentacles has made me view Brigit's interpretations in a new, refreshed light. So, yes, I have been working on improving myself, and analysing my self in regards to my work performance, secretly; but, perhaps not quite as diligently as the card would suggest.

It doesn't stop there, though. Other than suggesting one could not be suited to the task (which is not an energy I feel right now), the big thing I took away from Brigit's interpretations is that of perfectionism. Here is that "paying attention to detail" theme that Bunning uses, but reworked. My friend who got me this job has been very supportive and has pointed out to me my sometimes vain quest for perfectionism. While there are various pressures that come from above that delight in the result, sometimes the effort is not worth the prize. I find myself paralyzed at times by trying to find the ultimately best (perfect) way of getting something done and finding myself lacking, or that my energies have gone very hard into the wrong place to get something just right when they were deserved elsewhere. A focus on the details can make me lose sight of the big picture. My immediate boss is aware of my ambition to climb the ranks, and is doing his part to try and make it happen, but as my friend warns, this will only happen if I can let go and, in Brigit's words, surrender to the art of imperfection. Fauvist pictures are imperfect with their wild use of colour and brush strokes, but are still amazing things of beauty. If a Reversed card is intended to be a lesson, then I feel the lesson I take from this is in regards to letting perfectionism go, and perhaps work will no longer be tedious and dissatisfying. Indeed, Fairchild opines that I'll soon gain recognition for my accomplishments, and I'm starting to feel that this may come around.

This card has been a very good first step back on the hike, a nice easy trek in regards to analysis, and a good view. The path winds on, though, into the realms of the Queen of Wands, Reversed. With this, the Court of the Wands will be complete, but there may be a sting in its tail to discover.

[jimenezjimenez4]

hermes mini kelly 12

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[chapman17mccall]

The Best Bottega Veneta Handbags Replica Is Ready For You

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Replica Bottega Veneta bag imitations and the true factor so as to do the same, utilizing a gentle leather material, the bag physique could be very light, it isn't very simple to do. To know that additionally they are utilized in fabrics like those top lambskin fabric, why would you want to be more comfy than different home bag texture it? Because Moltedo family regulation solely woven leather-based, the leather woven with some tactics to take care of, more than likely a package requires skilled craftsmen with 3-4 days to complete.

[123lineengineers]

Watch this film?Your Here: Film's Hidden Messages

Have you ever watched a movie and felt like there was something more to it than meets the eye? Like the filmmakers were trying to convey a deeper message? You're not alone. Many movies contain hidden messages and meanings that may not be immediately apparent to the casual viewer. This article delves into the world of film analysis and interpretation to uncover the cinematic storytelling techniques, film symbolism, and subliminal messaging used by filmmakers to convey hidden messages. With the use of specific examples, we'll examine how films use different techniques to tell a story, as well as the importance of film analysis and interpretation for uncovering the intended message of the movie. From scrutinizing the film's narrative structure to analyzing visual cues, our exploration of the enigmatic realm of film will reveal the secrets that lie within.

Delving Into Cinematic Secrets

Exploration is an integral part of understanding the hidden messages and deeper meanings within movies. Each frame of a film may hold a deeper message that contributes to its overall narrative. Such cinematic secrets add complexity and depth to the film's interpretation for the viewer.Cinematic storytelling depends on codes and symbols to convey their intended messages. Therefore, film analysis plays a significant role in understanding the meaning, context and symbolism in each shot. Professionals in this field reveal that there's a lot that goes unnoticed by the audience in plain sight.Without scrutinising the movie's hidden elements, it's possible to miss crucial subtext and broader aesthetic choices. Essentially, film analysis is crucial in mastering a film's message and storytelling forms. In essence, successful film analysis operates as a tool for interpreting and understanding the underlying meanings and nuances of the movie.Interpretation and film analysis go hand in hand in understanding cinematic storytelling, as the former helps us decode the hidden message correctly. To gain a deeper understanding of the movie, it's crucial to analyse a sequence of its narrative techniques and elements. This is why film analysis is the cornerstone of the search for the hidden, symbolic messages and subtexts in a work of the cinematography. Upon mastering film analysis, it becomes easy to delve into exploring the cinematic secrets and interpret the message meant for the audience.

The Power of Film Symbolism

In the world of cinema, symbolism is key to conveying hidden messages and adding depth to a film’s overall narrative. Filmmakers use symbols and metaphors to create multi-layered meanings that enrich the story and enhance the viewing experience. While some elements may seem insignificant at first glance, even the smallest details can hold a deeper significance and offer insight into the movie’s intended message.Through the use of film analysis and interpretation, viewers can gain a better understanding of a film's symbolism and its meaning. From recurring objects and motifs to colours and numbers, every symbol holds a significant role in conveying the movie's intended message.For instance, the recurring imagery of a rose in American Beauty represents the theme of longing or desire. The image is used throughout the film, not only as a symbol of beauty but also as a reminder of life's transience and the protagonist's yearning for something more.Similarly, in The Shining, the use of duality in the visuals and narrative reveals the transformation of the protagonist's psyche. The maze in the movie serves as both a physical barrier and a metaphorical representation of the character's state of mind.Understanding and decoding film symbolism is crucial to interpreting the messages hidden in movies. It allows viewers to gain a more profound sense of the film's themes and overall meaning. Filmmakers use symbolism to engage the viewer and challenge them to think beyond the surface level of the movie.Next, we'll explore the concept of subliminal messaging and the role it plays in conveying hidden messages in cinema.

Unraveling Subliminal Messaging

Subliminal messaging is a powerful tool in the world of filmmaking. These hidden messages can be visual or auditory cues that are strategically placed within a movie to convey a deeper meaning to the audience. While these messages are not typically perceived on a conscious level, they can have a significant impact on the viewer's interpretation of the film.Filmmakers use a variety of techniques to incorporate subliminal messaging into their movies. These may include flashing images or words on the screen for just a fraction of a second, using hidden symbolism or metaphors within visuals, or even incorporating subliminal audio messages within the soundtrack of the film.The impact of these messages on the viewer's perception of the film can be profound. They can affect the emotional response a viewer has to a particular scene or character and can be used to subtly manipulate the audience's interpretation of the movie as a whole.Subliminal messaging is an intriguing aspect of film analysis, as these messages are often hidden in plain sight and require a keen eye to uncover. While some may argue that subliminal messaging is a cheap trick used by filmmakers to manipulate their audience, others see it as a clever and effective way to add depth to cinematic storytelling.Through the use of film analysis techniques such as close reading, formalist analysis, and semiotic analysis, viewers can begin to unravel the hidden messages within a movie and gain a deeper understanding of the filmmaker's intended meaning.

The Art of Film Analysis

In order to uncover the hidden messages and deeper meanings in movies, it is crucial to engage in film analysis. Film analysis can be approached in various ways, including formalist analysis, structural analysis, and semiotic analysis.Formalist analysis involves examining how the filmmaker uses various cinematic techniques, such as camera angles, lighting, and editing, to enhance the storytelling and convey deeper meanings. Structural analysis focuses on the narrative structure and how the story is organized, while semiotic analysis explores how symbols and signs are used in the film.By engaging in film analysis, viewers can interpret the intended messages of a film and gain a deeper understanding of its cinematic storytelling. Additionally, film critique plays a crucial role in analyzing and interpreting hidden messages in movies.

Decoding Cinematic Storytelling

Cinematic storytelling is a complex art that involves more than just moving images and dialogue. It encompasses the use of narrative structure, character development, and visual storytelling to convey deeper meanings in films. Filmmakers use these techniques to create engaging stories that captivate their audience, but sometimes these techniques are also used to convey hidden messages.The interpretation of cinematic storytelling is essential in order to understand the messages that filmmakers are trying to convey. For instance, a character's actions and choices may reflect broader societal or political issues. Understanding these underlying themes requires a deeper analysis of the film's storytelling techniques.When decoding cinematic storytelling, it is crucial to pay attention to the film's narrative structure, which can shed light on its intended message. The use of framing devices, nonlinear timelines, or other narrative tools all contribute to the overall meaning of the movie.The characters in a film also play a vital role in conveying hidden messages. Their actions, motives, and conflicts may mirror broader societal issues or represent the filmmaker's personal beliefs. Examining character development can provide insights into these messages, enabling viewers to understand the film's intended meaning.Finally, visual storytelling is another key aspect of cinematic storytelling. The images and symbols that are presented on screen can convey hidden messages, ranging from subtle details to more explicit symbolism. These visual cues may be used to create a specific mood, emphasize themes or motifs, or even reflect deeper societal issues.In summary, cinematic storytelling is a powerful tool for conveying hidden messages in films. It involves careful crafting of narrative structure, character, and visual elements to create a cohesive story that resonates with the audience. Interpretation and film analysis are essential for decoding these messages and understanding the film's intended meaning.

The Influence of Film Critique

Film critique plays a crucial role in analyzing and interpreting the hidden messages in movies. Critics are trained to identify the subtle nuances and symbols used by filmmakers to convey their intended message.Their interpretations can have a significant impact on how audiences perceive a film and can even influence the film's overall success. Critiques can help the audience appreciate a film's themes, metaphors, and artistic merit, making the film more engaging and memorable.However, the interpretation of hidden messages in films remains subjective, and critics may have varying opinions on the intended meaning behind a film. This diversity can contribute to a broader understanding of the film and its messages."There's no one 'correct' interpretation of a film's hidden messages. It's up to each viewer to decide what they believe the film is trying to convey." - Jane Smith, Film CriticDespite their subjectivity, film critiques remain an essential component in the analysis and interpretation of hidden messages in movies. They contribute to a deeper understanding of cinematic storytelling and allow audiences to appreciate the artistry and symbolism behind their favorite films.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IR_N_Ptu08Q

Examining Film's Hidden Meanings

Hidden messages in films are often difficult to decipher, but once uncovered, they can reveal the deeper intentions of the filmmakers. This section will examine specific examples of films that contain hidden meanings and explore how they add to the overall cinematic storytelling. Through in-depth film analysis and interpretation, we will uncover and analyze scenes, dialogues, and visual cues to reveal the layers of meaning that lie beneath the surface of the movie. "The truth is, it's all a big mystery, and the more you try to solve it, the more it becomes a mystery." - David Lynch The Shining (1980)Stanley Kubrick's horror classic, The Shining, is a case study in hidden messages and symbolism. The film is peppered with subtle clues that suggest deeper meanings and motivations behind the film's characters and narrative. For example, the infamous scene of Danny riding his tricycle down the hotel's corridors reveals hidden messages through repetitive patterns and symbolism. A closer analysis of this scene suggests that the tricycle represents Danny's innocence and the hotel's corridors symbolize the maze of life. The repetition of the pattern in this scene suggests the fate of a person beyond their control, which is a commentary on Danny's journey throughout the film.Get Out (2017)Get Out is a horror film that tackles race relations in America through its horror tropes. The film is packed with symbols and metaphors that reveal the deeper intentions of the filmmakers. For example, the film's ending features a close-up shot of Chris's face as he strangles Rose, the main antagonist. This shot symbolizes Chris's agency and a powerful reversal of roles that highlight the theme of empowerment. This scene is a commentary on the black experience and the struggle for agency and self-determination.Memento (2000)Christopher Nolan's Memento is a neo-noir psychological thriller film that tells the story of a man with amnesia trying to solve the mystery behind his wife's murder. The film uses a non-linear narrative structure and hidden messages to create a unique cinematic experience for the audience. For example, the film is punctuated by Polaroid pictures that reveal clues about the narrative and add to the film's overall authenticity. The film's use of hidden messages adds depth and complexity to the story and encourages viewers to engage in active interpretation.Overall, examining hidden messages in films is an essential aspect of film analysis and interpretation. By uncovering these messages, we can gain a deeper understanding of cinematic storytelling and the power of visual communication. The next section will delve into the ongoing debate about the validity of interpretation in film analysis.

The Debate Over Interpretation

As with any art form, film interpretation is subjective and open to debate. While some viewers may find a certain hidden message or meaning in a film, others may not see it at all. This ongoing debate raises questions about the validity and subjectivity of interpretation in film analysis.Some argue that there is a definitive meaning intended by the filmmaker, while others maintain that interpretation is entirely up to the viewer. However, both sides agree that film analysis plays a crucial role in uncovering hidden messages and deeper meanings within a movie.Interpretation is often shaped by a viewer's personal experiences and cultural background, which may influence how they perceive the intended message of a film. Nevertheless, understanding the techniques and devices used in cinematic storytelling and film analysis can aid in developing a more comprehensive interpretation of a film's hidden messages.Ultimately, the debate over interpretation highlights the complexity of cinematic storytelling and the importance of film analysis in uncovering hidden messages. While different perspectives on film interpretation may continue to exist, the exploration of these hidden meanings adds depth and enrichment to our understanding of films.

Unlocking the Secrets of Movies

The key to understanding the hidden messages in movies lies in film analysis and interpretation. By adopting a critical eye and an analytical mindset, viewers can unlock the secrets of movies and delve deeper into their meanings. Here are some tips and strategies to help you uncover hidden messages in films:Approach Film Analysis SystematicallyOne way to approach film analysis is to break down the movie into its constituent parts - the narrative structure, character development, visual storytelling, and sound design - and analyze each element in depth. This systematic approach can help you identify recurring motifs, themes, and symbols that may hold hidden meanings.Consider the Importance of ContextContext is key to understanding hidden messages in movies. Factors such as the historical and cultural background of the film, its intended audience, and the director's personal experiences and biases can all influence the message of the movie. Taking these factors into account can help you understand the deeper meanings behind a film.Embrace Personal InterpretationInterpretation is a highly personal process, and there may be multiple valid interpretations of a movie's hidden messages. Don't be afraid to bring your own perspectives and experiences to the table when analyzing a film. Your unique interpretation can add depth and richness to your understanding of the movie.

By utilizing these tips and strategies, viewers can unlock the mysteries of movies and gain a deeper appreciation for the art of cinematic storytelling. Remember, hidden messages can be found in almost every frame of a movie, so keep your eyes peeled and your mind open when watching films.

The Everlasting Impact of Cinematic Secrets

As we have explored throughout this article, cinematic secrets and hidden messages in movies have a significant impact on viewers. The power of film analysis and interpretation allows us to delve deeper into the meanings and messages conveyed by filmmakers.These hidden messages can have a lasting impact on audiences and shape the way we perceive the world around us. From social commentary to political ideologies, movies have the ability to convey powerful messages that can linger long after the credits roll.By unlocking the secrets of movies and exploring the depths of cinematic storytelling, we can gain a deeper understanding of the messages they convey and how they relate to our own lives. The power of interpretation and personal experience allows us to connect with films on a deeper level and find meaning in our own lives.So, the next time you watch a movie, take a moment to consider the hidden messages and cinematic secrets that may be buried within. By embracing the art of film analysis and interpretation, we can gain a greater appreciation for the craft of filmmaking and the messages it seeks to convey.Remember, the world of movies is full of secrets and hidden meanings, waiting to be unlocked by those who are willing to explore. Read the full article

[mitsubabunny]

TBHK Flower Symbolism Analysis - Mitsuba + Kou

In Japan the school year starts in April which coincides with the peak cherry blossom season, this is when Mitsuba and Kou meet for the first time.

I think that Mitsuba in a lot of ways is basically the embodiment of cherry blossoms and there’s official art where he literally is a bunch of cherry blossom petals.

The life span of cherry blossoms is very short, only about two weeks because of this they symbolize the fleeting nature of life and a reminder to appreciate what we have because you never know what might happen. Maybe Mitsuba and Kou could have become friends while Mitsuba was alive if only they had more time, if only Mitsuba’s life wasn’t cut so short but things just didn’t happen that way.

I’d also like to mention that cherry blossoms are also associated with a legend where a samurai sacrificed his life to save a dying cherry blossom tree. I just think it seems kind of similar to Kou trying to sacrifice himself for Mitsuba.

Morning glories bloom each morning and when the sun sets the flower curls up and takes its rest, similarly in the Mitsuba Arc Mitsuba meets his end on the same day that he befreinds Kou.

Morning glories can symbolize “brief love” or “bond of love” in Japan and its leaves even resemble hearts. I think both these meanings can both fit with Mitsuba and Kou’s relationship. “Brief love” fits well with the Mitsuba Arc and their short amount of time that they got to spend together. While I think that “bond of love” fits their relationship as a whole because no matter how many times they are separated they always seem to find each other again and the bond is still there even if one doesn’t remember the other.

The presence of morning glories also tells us that it’s summer, meaning that the second time Mitsuba and Kou meet is during the summer. I point this out because I feel like Mitsuba and Kou have been associated with seasons a lot. Their first meeting was in the spring, Mitsuba died in the winter, and then they met again in the summer and became friends so now I have to wonder if something will happen in the fall.

The flowers that appear here in Kou’s dream appear to be kalmia flowers. The most common meaning of this flower is perseverance/persistence so my best guess is that these flowers are meant to represent that this is a recurring dream that won’t go away?

I think that it’s interesting that flowers are even surrounding this panel in the first place considering that this is supposed to be a bad dream.

When Kou first meets Mitsuba in the fake world Mitsuba is holding roses. Roses are known for being the universal flower for love. Out of context from the rest of the chapter this scene seems very romantic with the roses, Kou dropping his books at the sight of Mitsuba and saying that he “felt like time has stopped”.

In Japan it’s common to give red carnations to your family or specifically give them to your mother on Mother’s Day so we can assume that the flower is for his mother.

In Kou’s HOTO AU art we see him holding a red rose. As most people know, red roses are used to mean romantic love and can also mean passion, desire and longing. The rose doesn’t have any purpose in the actual plot of the AU but I do think the meaning of flowers fits well with his character and his relationship with Mitsuba. Most things regarding Kou and Mitsuba’s relationship in the HOTO AU is left up to interpretation so you can draw your own conclusions if you want.

In this AU Kou is shown holding what seems to be a branch off of a cherry blossom tree. There’s another drawing for this AU that shows Kou attempting to give the flowers to Nene and when that fails he ends up giving them to Mitsuba. We already know that Mitsuba is pretty heavily associated with cherry blossoms and his colour scheme in this AU is even very similar to the colour scheme of the cherry blossoms so maybe they were meant for him all along.

[chocosvt]

love café

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t believe he was here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To a degree, you were correct.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except, you needed access to a computer.

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

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

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

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

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

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

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tired. Aching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

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

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

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

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

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

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

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not a big deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah.”

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

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

“The Shower what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twelve am.

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

However, tonight was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The red velvet cake?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

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

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

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

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

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

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

“Later!” He’d called.

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

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

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

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

Joshua bumped your elbow.

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

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

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Just shush up and try this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

“… What?”

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

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

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

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

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

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

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

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

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

You looked at your alarm clock.

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

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

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

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

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

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

[isolemlyswearwritings]

Kiss From a Rose

(Fred Weasley x Reader)

I was inspired by Kiss From a Rose by Seal for this (loosely based).

Summary: Fred is completely enamored by you, and can't handle the idea of you going out on a date with another guy. Reader has female pronouns. Fluff!!

Warnings: none really- one part might be a tiny bit suggestive but only if you squint.

Your lips moved as you explained to your two best friends something that had you excited. Fred had long ago stopped listening. Instead, he found himself entranced, watching every fluid movement your mouth made. The way you paused and licked your lips had him sitting on the edge of his seat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He wanted nothing more than to lean over his meal and see for himself if your lips felt as soft as they looked. His chin rested on his hand as he let out a quiet sigh.

"Fred? Is everything alright?" Your lips downturned into a decadent frown. The movement caused Fred to remember that you had been talking to him and his twin. He snapped out of his daze and his eyes raised to meet yours. George snorts beside him.

"Hm? Sorry, love." A faint pink dusts your cheeks. "What was it you said?"

The intense eye contact he was giving you livened the butterflies in your stomach that- little did he know- were reserved only for him. You cross your arms over your chest.

"N-nothing. It wasn't important anyway."

Fred smiled at the light blush on your cheeks, proud that he was the cause. He couldn't help but notice how the pink of your cheeks matched your rose coloured lips.

"Every thing you have to say is important, angel." Fred looked at you with hooded eyes.

"Oi, get a room you two!" George gave his brother a light shove and snickered at his cheesy flirting. You giggled at your friends, trying to not act too affected by Fred's comment. Fred glanced at you and gave you a look that said 'we can get a room if you want to.'

You rolled your eyes at your friend, knowing that his flirting wasn't meant to be interpreted as anything more than friendly. Fred was like that- he flirted and joked around. He was Fred Weasley.

You soon started talking animatedly again with George about Quidditch and Fred could watch you in peace. There was something about the way you looked today.  He couldn't quite place it. You always looked beautiful, but there was something right now that made him want to brush his fingers across your rosy cheeks. Fred couldn't quite pinpoint what that something was. Maybe it was the way the candlelight in the hall lit your hair like a halo. Or maybe the extra slice of pumpkin pie he had for dessert was laced with love potion. Either way, Fred's mind was full of thoughts about you.

He imagined that if he reached out and traced your bottom lip with his fingers that it would feel like the velvet petal of a rose. A strong feeling of admiration grasped his heart firmly and he was overwhelmed with the urge to profess his long-lasting love for you and everything about you.

Maybe he would. Maybe you would look up at him through your lashes like you always did and profess your love right back to him.

You got up from your seat across from the Weasley twins and waved goodbye to them before leaving the hall. Fred watched your retreating figure longingly, confused as to why you left all of the sudden before you were meant to go with them to Hogsmeade.

"Where is she going?"

George rolled his eyes and laughed, "on her date with Davies. Honestly, mate, you were practically drooling over her there. She was talking about her date the whole time and she wanted your opinion on if she should go with him."

"S-she wanted to know if I thought she should go on a date?" An ugly feeling welled inside of Fred at the realization that you had been talking to him about going on a date.

"Sometimes it's good to pay attention." George snickers and gets up from his empty plate, "you coming to Hogsmeade?"

Fred's mouth set in a firm line as he got up and walked with a purpose to the nearby town of Hogsmeade.

Fred found you and Roger Davies sat at a table near the back of the Three Broomsticks. He had been pulling George around the town, searching like a wild predator for the lovely couple. The fuming boy sat beside you and placed his arm tightly around your shoulders. George, unsure of what his brother was up to but wanted to have a front row seat, sat beside Roger.

"Hey, babydoll. I've been looking all over for you." Fred leans close to your ear, a mischievous look behind his eyes.

"What do you want Freddie? I told you I had a date."

"I missed you when you left." He leans closer to you and turns his head and looks at your date as if he just noticed him. "Sorry if she was late, mate. Her and I had some things to attend to- in my dorm. You know how it goes." He winks at Roger and Roger's face goes a shade of red.

"Frederick Weasley. Leave me and my date alone." You give him you best piss-off look, but he chooses to ignore you and smile brightly at Roger as if he had an idea.

"I came here with the intention of sabotaging your date with my friend here." He turns to you, "I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention to you earlier. I just didn't like the idea of you going on a date."

Not knowing how to react, you open and close your mouth before saying, "can we talk about this maybe in private for a second?" You quickly pull Fred out the door by his sleeve.

"What has gotten into you, Freddie?" Your hands were settled on your hips as you looked up at him angrily. He should've felt guilty, but he was too focused on the way your hands sat perfectly on the smooth curve that dipped from your waist to your hips.

"I don't want you to go out with Davies." He said sheepishly.

"Why couldn't you have said that before I said yes to him? Why was this your solution?" Your voice was rising with each syllable- your confusion apparent.

Fred's voice rose to match yours.

"Because I want to take you on a date! Honestly, woman! I have fancied you since first year and I thought I made it pretty obvious! Maybe I'm not the greatest guy, and maybe I don't deserve you but I can't stand by while you date other guys!"

You were speechless. As Fred rambled, you watched the way his lips moved with each word he spoke. You wondered if his lips tasted as marvelous as they looked.

"At least say something, please! I mean- I'm spilling my heart out here I think I deserve at least a simple rejection! Or-"

You had reached up and tugged at the ends of his Gryffindor scarf until his face was level with yours. You gently pulled his lips to meet yours.

Fred was too shocked at first to reciprocate, but he quickly placed his hands gingerly on your hips, where yours had been only moments before.

It was more than he had imagined- and he had imagined it since the first time he had seen you. Your lips were soft and sweet against his and they moved in perfect sync with him. You both molded together as if this was the way that your lips were always meant to be moving. If this was the last kiss Fred ever had, he would die a happy man.

You put your hands on the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you. His arms wrapped tighter around your waist, feeling the hips that he had always yearned to touch.

It turns out your lips were softer than a rose.