#so I’m leaning towards the it counts each page as an individual visit

[paterday]

I find the fact that you can see how many people have looked at ur site So Interesting. I wish it didn’t count My views on my own site cause at least 800 of the views on mine are. From me. Which makes seeing the actual number of people poking at it incredibly inflated

[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!!

[thisbrokenmask]

Matching Pair

pairing: female reader x Kim Namjoon

genre: fluff, very light angst

word count: 2,266

warnings: brief mentions of struggling to conceive, hella fluff

summary: you return from a day of shopping with a surprise for your husband.

a/n: so, this fic is unbeta’d and was written on my phone, but I was too excited to write it after getting some very wonderful news today - I found out I’m going to become an auntie for the very first time next summer! I’m beyond excited, and it ended up giving me inspiration for how to finally use the ‘Fuzzy Boots’ prompt on my @btsholidaybingo​ card!

“Joonie?” you call out for your husband as you close the front door of your home, already feeling the heat of the house warming you from the growing winter chill outside. Gently putting the shopping bags containing your few new purchases down to the side, you take off your shoes and your coat and put them in the closet by the front door. You don’t hear an answering call from Namjoon, but you do find his house keys still in the little cubby in the closet when you hang yours back up, so you know he’s home.  

Heart fluttering and excitement rolling in your tummy, you grab the handles of your shopping bags and head upstairs, your bare feet sinking into the carpet of the stairs with quiet relief. Even though you decided against heels today, the several hours you spent searching for the perfect items has still left them aching and you once again pat yourself on the back for choosing a thick pile when you decorated the house.

You bite your bottom lip to try and hold back your grin as you head to your bedroom to deposit all but one of your shopping bags, although you can’t help the slight skip in your walk as you once again go over what’s about to happen. Leaving your discarded purchases at the foot of the bed to sort out later, you clutch the most important one tightly as you seek out your spouse. 

Surprisingly, he’s not in his home studio, the small soundproof room normally your first port of call on the rare days Namjoon doesn’t head into the BigHit buildings to work. No, instead you find him in the little snug-come-library at the end of the hall, a slight dip in his brow from how concentrated he is on the words in front of him.

The library was a room you both insisted on having when you found this house, as you both needed somewhere to store your vast collections of books you had amassed over your lives. The custom floor-to-ceiling shelving had been fitted perfectly for the room, with a few open spaces left for artwork to break up the visual of hundreds of book spines. 

While your respective hoards of literature had combined, there were still traces of your individual hobbies nestled among them. Several small houseplants contributed pockets of green and, as Namjoon pointed out, a sort of poetic contradiction to the many books you owned; the living among the dead, as it were. He tended to them daily, whereas your offerings required much less attention. 

In your many years of travelling before and after meeting Namjoon, you’d developed the habit of collecting one small trinket from each country or city you visited. Whether they represented particular landmarks, native animals or cultural figures, you always brought home something to remember each place by, and now many of those trinkets filled the spaces left behind by oddly-shaped books or accompanied a bonsai as it grew between the shelves. 

In the centre of the room, on top of the plush mauve rug you’d fallen in love with at first sight, sat two armchairs. They didn’t match each other, but matched you and your husband instead. You’d gotten the idea from UP!, knowing when you’d first seen Carl and Ellie’s individual chairs that you wanted to do that with your future partner. And the library became the perfect place for these perfectly mismatched chairs, another way to show how the two of you had come together in this room that housed so many of your joint passions. 

Your chair, currently empty, was the plushest wingback chair you’d ever seen; a beautiful, royal blue velvet chair that made you feel like you were in a house that could be found in a Jane Austen novel. Your husband’s chair, in which he was now sat, was burnt orange in colour, square and simple in shape, with arms curled over to remove any harsh lines. You’d hated it, initially, but the more you’d seen it on the shop floor and then saw your husband lean back into its cushions, the more you decided that it suited him, and that was what mattered. Despite its simplicity, it was a bit too big for you to sit in comfortably, although you would often climb into it and burrow under several blankets when he was away.  

You’d now grown accustomed to the barrage of colours and styles in your little library, a fondness for the apparent chaos that still shocked newcomers, making you giggle every time. 

As you so often find yourself doing, you take a second to admire Namjoon in his studious reading pose: one leg resting across the knee of the other, his right elbow propped up on the armchair and his hand cradling his chin, index finger extended across his lips in contemplation. His left hand cradles his book seemingly effortlessly, his simple gold wedding band glinting in the warm orange of the afternoon winter sun that pours in through the window across the room. It’s still the only golden piece of jewellery he wears, and it still makes your heart bloom every time you catch sight of it. 

In the split second you’ve taken in his appearance, he’s become aware of your presence. Only his eyes move at first, flicking up from the page to the door to see who’s walked in. When he sees you standing in the doorway, however, he immediately slips his bookmark into place and puts the volume down on the little table between the chairs. The ease and immediacy with which he gives you his whole attention never fails to make you feel a little giddy. 

“Hey,” Namjoon’s expression melts into his warmest smile, all traces of his previous concentration vanished at the sight of his wife. His eyes briefly drop to the bag in your hand before returning to you. “Have fun shopping?”

You nod as he extends his hand towards you, slipping your palm into his and letting him gently pull you close. He sits you in his lap, one arm curled around the back of your waist and the other gently resting across your thighs, his hand melding to match the curve of your flesh. The warmth of his palm is noticeable even through your jeans, rippling throughout your body like a breeze kissing the surface of a lake. 

“Is that for me?” he nods towards the bag by his feet, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple. 

“Nope,” you smile, then pause. “Well, I guess it kinda is. Wanna see?”

If Namjoon is confused, he doesn’t show it. He loves the way you think, loves how you can see something completely different from him when you both look at the same art pieces on your gallery trips, loves how you can find even the loosest connections between two ideas in a way he’d never thought of. He doesn’t always understand you at first, but he loves that about you, so he waits patiently for you to explain. 

You lift the bag into your lap, the hand across your thighs moving to secure it in place while you open it. You turn it away from him as you pull out the contents, but he’s not even trying to peep inside; his eyes are focused on you, on the little ways your expression changes when you get thoughtful, or excited, or anxious, and right now you’re a bit of all three. 

“Ta-dah!” you singsong proudly, presenting him with a pair of fuzzy, light brown slipper boots. You try not to giggle as his expression falters slightly, although he quickly covers up his obvious confusion with bemused intrigue, gaze jumping between you and the boots as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on. 

“These… are for me?” he can tell just by looking at them that the boots are way too small for him, they’re definitely your size, and he’s struggling to figure out how they could be ‘kinda’ for him. 

“No, these ones are mine, silly!” you laugh, gently bopping the tip of his nose with your finger. The relieved sigh that falls past his lips only keeps your laughter rolling and he loves the sound, cheeks dumpling as he grins up at you. 

“Of course,” he agrees easily, smirking down at the boots as you gently run your fingers through the fluffy material, then cocks his eyebrow. “So how am I involved in this?” he pauses, then tilts his head to one side. “You’re not going to wear them to bed, are you? I know I said your feet are cold but I actually don’t mind it so much anymore-”

“These ones are mine,” you say, cutting him off, holding up your boots for emphasis before twisting in his lap to put them on the floor. His hand on your waist reflexively holds you tighter to keep you from toppling. 

When you then look at him with a smile he can only describe as mischievous, he knows he’s fucked: he’s a sucker for your playfulness, willingly walking into even your silliest pranks just to see your face light up and hear the melody of your laughter when you celebrate your victory.

His mind whirs through every option he can think of that could somehow relate those fluffy little boots to himself. Maybe you’ve bought him new slippers too, but like your mismatched chairs they’ll be different styles, perfectly suiting each of you in a way that makes them work together. Maybe you’ve actually bought him matching ones and he can’t decide what will be worse: having to wear them to please you or refuse to wear them to please himself. He feels the smallest flicker of heat in his cheeks when he considers fluffy handcuffs, but he dismisses that though when he remembers how your gaze darkens whenever you get out the pairs you already own rather than brightens, like it has done right now. 

He’s at a loss, but you don’t make him wait much longer before you grant him an explanation. 

“They didn’t have matching daddy boots, unfortunately, but-” he doesn’t have time to register the term when you pull out the remaining items in the bag with a flourish. “They did have these matching baby boots, and I just couldn’t resist!”

He stares down at the little pair of fuzzy boots, the same light brown colour as yours. They’re barely bigger than your palm as they sit side by side and he doesn’t know how something so small can knock all of the air from his body. 

He can’t speak, can’t swallow, almost can’t breathe. He can only stare. 

You watch as Namjoon’s features drop and give him a few moments to process the sight in front of him. You’re sure your lip is about to bleed with how hard you’re biting into it, desperate to cry and cheer and celebrate with him but wanting to give him his processing time. 

When he doesn’t say anything after a longer time than you were expecting, you begin to worry he’s upset rather than shocked. When he finally speaks, though, his tone is so level you genuinely think he’s angry. 

“Y/n,” he says, gaze lifting to meet your eyes and locking onto them. You feel his body grow tense beneath you, the grip on your waist tightening and releasing as he battles with the emotions building in his chest. “Who are these for?” His throat bobs with a dry swallow and you feel your stomach drop a little bit, suddenly realising how this may have come across to him. 

You and Namjoon got married nearly two years ago now, and you’ve been trying for a baby for just over a year. During that time, Namjoon has found more than one or two bags of baby clothes tucked away in your side of the closet, onesies and booties in varying designs and colours despite the fact that none of your attempts had been successful. His heart had broken for you every time, knowing how desperate you were to become a mother, but, despite his own deep-seated desire to be a father, he’d insisted you return the items each time and forbade you from bringing home anymore baby items that weren’t gifts for expecting friends or relatives. It was painful for him, too, to keep seeing the negative pregnancy tests in the bathroom trash, but he knew that it would only hurt more if you kept the clothes with no baby to fill them. 

It had been months since you’d last even looked at the baby aisles in any stores, but today was the day things changed. 

“They’re for us,” you told him gently, the words barely above a whisper yet filling the space between you. You see the tears begin to well in his eyes at the same time his grip on you tightens one last time. He stares up at you, eyes wide and watery and full of hope, and you let the widest grin loose on your lips. 

Leaning forward to touch your forehead to his, both yours and Namjoon’s eyes fall closed. Shuddering breaths push at the air between you, your hand pressing to his chest to feel the way his heartbeat gallops under your palm. Your own tears start to glide over the apples of your cheeks as you finally let the weight of your news overwhelm you, knowing that you’re both finally going to see your dreams come to life. 

“They’re for our baby.”

If you would like to read any of my other works, please follow me and head on over to my masterlist ♡

[puckmeupfam]

Sap | Jeff Skinner

Word Count: 2287

Note: My autumnal aesthetic piece that I started in July. Title is based on the fact that this is entirely fluff without plot, and because it takes place in the Northeast with references to maple syrup, cider donuts, and leaf-peeping. 

Zipping your newly packed suitcase and pulling it off the bed, you heard the front door open signaling that Jeff arrived home from practice. It was a rare time when he had the weekend off. No games, no practices after the one he just finished, just free time which he chose to devote to spending with you. The two of you loved going on short trips whenever possible to escape the monotony of work and grocery shopping and Buffalo. Honestly, you could spend the weekend in Lackawanna and be happy as long as you were with Jeff. This particular weekend was special because it was now solidly fall. The temperatures were dropping. The leaves were changing. Swimsuits were being swapped out for sweaters. And golf was being replaced by hockey.

You had spent most of the summer in Markham. Coming from a smaller family, you were always enamored by Jeff’s. At this point, you honestly considered them to be your family, too. You loved talking to Jillian about her time in law school or asking Ben about his hockey career in Germany. It was also hilarious to watch the five siblings tease Jeff about his competitiveness or on-ice gaffs, but he was always a good sport about it and just laughed with bright red cheeks. You knew how much it meant to Jeff when he got to spend time with his family and experience that warmth and joy. The both of you were incredibly lucky that Buffalo isn’t too far away, but with his schedule, the uninterrupted summer was extra special.

As you were lost in your thoughts, you missed Jeff coming up the stairs and into your shared bedroom. His arms wrapped around your waist and his face found its way into the crook of your neck. The action brought an unconscious smile to your face as you leaned back into him.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asked you, voice muffled against your skin as he lightly swayed. You shrugged in response, “We should probably get Andrea a birthday gift while we’re gone, something nice you know? Show we were thinking about her.” Jeff hummed in response. He rocked the two of you a bit before speaking, “Are you ready to leave?” You took a deep breath, inhaling his cologne. Turning your body to look him in the eye you smiled softly, “Almost,” you whispered, “we should probably get going before they decide they need you to individually kiss each fan.” This elicited a booming laugh from Jeff that you felt throughout your body, “The only person I’m kissing is you.”

After another minute of contentment, you shuffled him away from you to grab some chargers and last-minute necessities. He chuckled as he started pulling your suitcase down to the car, he knew how much you were looking forward to this trip. You had spent the last week researching and talking about all the spots you wanted to visit while you were away. Grabbing your purse and hoisting it over your shoulder you did a last-minute sweep of the house to make sure that everything was unplugged and you weren’t leaving candles lit or stovetops on. After your anxieties were quelled you went outside and joined Jeff in the car. He had already put your B&B into the GPS and he flashed you a large grin which you eagerly matched as he pulled out of the driveway.

This trip the two of you were going to Western Massachusetts. It was about a five and a half hour drive, probably longer since you knew you would be stopping for lunch and every state park that came your way. You synched your phone and started playing music, knowing that you had a playlist with the perfect ambiance. Jeff always teased you for making playlists for every mood, weather pattern, task, or aesthetic that came in your head. But when the soft chords came through the speakers and his fingers started a gentle tap against the steering wheel to the beat, you knew that it was appreciated.

In Buffalo, the weather was just cool enough that the seat warmers got turned on but not yet so cold that you were shivering. You were cruising down the highway, close to crossing city lines. When you glanced over at Jeff he had a small smile, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Just watching the road with an underlying well of happiness. You took a minute to look at him, to take him in. His smile turned out to be infectious and you knew your face was probably spread with a dopey grin.

“You’re staring,” Jeff said, breaking the silence.

“You didn’t even look over. How would you know?” you complained.

“I could feel your stare,” he responded, looking over at you with a grin that took over his whole face. His statement made you burst out laughing. While the whole thing was funny and, you were sure that he really did get that weird feeling you get when someone’s looking at you, it made you think about how you were always so aware of each other. The two of you could be in a crowd of people at some Sabres bruncheon and someway somehow you could always glance up and see him already looking at you. Or when you would go to some team party, you always had a tendency to reach for each other’s hands at the same time.

“You would stare at you too,” was your response after you had realized that you went a few beats too long just staring into space.

It was Jeff’s turn to laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“It means,” you started, drawing out the word, “that you’re cute and potentially the embodiment of sunshine and everyone would stare at you if they could and I will simply not defend myself further.”

Jeff rolled his eyes at your dramatic tone and faux-seriousness. He swung his arm out over to you, holding it in the air until you grabbed his hand in both of yours. You pulled his hand into your lap and leaned further back into the passenger seat. Turning your head to the side to watch the city escape, your eyes unfocused and your brain turned to elevator music as your temple rested against the window. After a few minutes of contented silence, Jeff’s hand made its way to your thigh and squeezed, drawing your attention.

“Look at the leaves, babe,” he told you. The passing trees were dotted with warm-colored leaves of crimson, tangerine, marigold, and honey. It was absolutely gorgeous and seemed like a sign that your trip was only going to get better. You stared in awe for about a mile before you looked back at Jeff. His eyes flickered from the road to your face and the look he gave you, full of love and peace, made you feel so warm.

“They’re so pretty,” you said softly. You moved your hand to twine your fingers together and you watched his dimples come out in full force as he forced his eyes to stay on the road. After a few moments of contentment, you spoke again, “do you want me to tell you about the plant pigments that make these colors possible?”

Jeff chuckled, but you knew that your joke didn’t ruin the moment or anything else that you might think if you were talking to someone else. Because Jeff knew you, he loved you. He loved your bad jokes, your stories that you’ve already told him multiple times but just like telling again and again, the way you go into lectures to explain things that he had never thought twice about, your urge to talk during movies to comment on the scene or the actor’s personal life. He loved the best parts of you and he loved the worst parts of you. And this moment? Where you feel the light beaming out of your heart. It isn’t the moment. It’s just a moment in a string of hundreds of thousands of moments that you’ll experience with your favorite person.

--

After about two hours in the car, you were close to Syracuse and decided to stop for lunch. The two of you decided on a cute, local diner. Jeff parked the car and as you stepped out, you stretched your legs to rid yourself of the wobbly feeling from being in a car too long. The sidewalks were made of a red brick and there was a quiet hustle with people walking their dogs and couples going in and out of shops. The two of you walked side-by-side, but right when you were about to reach the door Jeff stepped ahead to hold it open for you. Stepping through you smiled at him and he followed you in. There seemed to be a typical lunch rush, but the restaurant wasn’t crowded. A waitress pointed you towards a booth and you slumped into it as Jeff sat across from you.

You both ordered coffees before cracking the menu open to see what they had. The pages were lined with different sandwiches, egg dishes, pancakes, and all the typical diner food that you loved. You settled on your order fairly quickly but Jeff scanned the pages until the coffees were brought out and the waitress was asking for your order. Handing her your menu, you explained what you wanted before both of you turned your attention towards your boyfriend.

“Could I have the brownie french toast?”

At that you raised your eyebrows at him incredulously. As the waitress walked away, scribbling your orders down as she went, Jeff looked back at you and laughed at your expression. “Cheat weekend,” was his explanation. He shrugged with an expression on his face like he was being forced to order what was likely the sugariest option on the menu. You threw your hands up to say you weren’t judging. Jeff quickly launched into a story about something Jack did at practice and that filled your wait until the food was brought to your table. Your boyfriend’s eyes widened comically when his food came out. It looked like there had been a blizzard of powdered sugar. It was topped with a whopping pile of whipped cream and a generous amount of rainbow sprinkles, just in case the brownie batter wasn't sweet enough.

Neither of you wasted any time in diving into your food and when you glanced up at Jeff after a few minutes you giggled when you saw that some of that whipped cream had ended up on his nose. You stealthily pulled out your phone to snap a picture of him. Once he heard the click of your camera he looked up at you which reignited your laughter.

“What?” he asked, chuckling lightly with you even without knowing the reason.

Without explaining yourself, you just reached out and swiped the sweet substance off his face before licking it off your finger. His response was just a sharp laugh with rolled eyes, head thrown back a bit at your antics. He knew full well that you were going to tease him for a long time for his choice of ridiculously confectionary lunch. You returned to your food with a shake of your head, but when you turned to take a sip of your coffee you noticed that Jeff had absolutely demolished his plate of french toast and was now trying to collect the remnant of whipped cream with his fork.

“It’s not going to be my fault when you crash from all that sugar,” you told him. He watched you dig your teeth into your lip to try and conceal the smile that was threatening to break through.

“Honestly, (Y/N), I’ve never felt better in my life. The sprinkles fuel me. I think I’ll make this my pre-game meal,” Jeff said with an air of seriousness. Sadly for him, but luckily for you, he had a genetic inability to suppress his smiles. You leaned back in the booth until your head hit the pleather upholstery and kicked your feet up to rest in his lap underneath the table.

“Don’t overwhelm yourself, I’m taking you to the Sugar Shack tomorrow and we’re getting the cider donuts.”

Jeff pulled a shocked and aghast face in response, “How dare you insinuate that I would ever be anything other than thrilled at the very prospect of cider donuts? You know, just because you said that I’m going to get two orders and we’ll see what you say when I eat those and yours too.”

You rolled your eyes so dramatically that you knew, if your mom were there, she would be telling you that they’d get stuck like that. Under the table, you kicked your legs up to rest in Jeff’s lap as he waved his arm to flag down the waitress for the bill. You sat quietly, just watching as he went through the monotony of thanking the waitress and putting his card in the sleeve of the bill. When he looked back at you, he smiled knowing that he caught you staring for the second time that day.

“You ready?” He asked you. A simple question, given that you were on a roadtrip with a predetermined destination. But with the opportunity to just appreciate him and your relationship, without the stress of your schedules or outside influences, it just felt meaningful. There was no one you would rather be with, during the happiest moments of your life or the worst. You felt a little misty with the joy of having him by your side.

“With you? Always.”

Pulling yourself out of the booth, you extended your hand for him to grasp and continued onwards.

[rq-s]

Title: Lucid Dreams - Chapter 1

Word Count: 2680

Warnings: Mingyu is featured heavily in the first few chapters and is directly involved in significant plot events. Due to recent events, I understand if reading these chapters may make you uncomfortable, but be aware that you’d be missing core story elements by skipping them. (Details)

Lucid Dreams Masterlist

Prologue | 

It was an hour after dawn, the streets were busy with students and workers on their commute. Yn gazed out of her apartment window, forlornly missing when she would do that. Why wasn’t I doing that? I should still be in college, worrying about scores and my social life.

She was still slowly waking up, with unfocused eyes and bad balance, as she sat at her desk. She shifted in her chair and faced her journal again, with two blank pages staring up at her.

It started as a school project, but it turned into a habit that Yn kept through her youth.

Yn stood and left it open without having written anything, frustrated with herself. If she had dreamt last night, it was long gone from her mind, and she had nothing else to write. There were more days like this lately. Update-less, absent days.

Eventually, Yn left the apartment complex with her phone and wallet and walked the familiar path. For weeks she had been going on walks around town, and she’d always somehow pass by the same peculiar store. She found herself lingering there, wanting to go in just to have her questions answered, but something within herself always stopped her. Online searches turned up very little. Just some patents, an under construction website, a local news article, and a few social media postings by previous customers. Everything she found only made her more curious.

The town seemed quiet, though it wasn’t ever busy. It made the journey to Dream Store a peaceful one, even as Yn's nervousness began to bubble.

She arrived a few hours before noon, the sunlight warm and shining brightly past the cartoonish and fluffy clouds. The well-tended potted plants, power washed sidewalk, and neon sign all had a strangely comforting feeling to them that welcomed her. Even the grey layered siding was sweet, despite how it clashed with the surrounding architecture. Yn stood on the sidewalk, facing the front patio, and hardened her resolve. Today would be her first time seeing what it was like inside; she refused to put it off anymore.

Yn approached the door in quick strides and read the print on the window before entering. “Dream Store | keeping hold of our hearts.”

Her breathing went still as soon as she pulled the door open. It was more spacious inside than the exterior led on, having a pastel pallet and being well lit. It felt like the door way was more then just the entrance to a business.

The first thing to see was the bar. A fairly long one, taking up most of the far wall, yet was still tucked in the corner. From the left wall towards the center were eight different taps, and on a counter behind the bar were two large blenders, a sink, and a small ice cream station with five flavors.  A small Bluetooth speaker on the end of the counter was playing instrumental lo-fi, and somehow the air itself felt light and bubbly against her skin. On the wall above the bar was a large LED menu with what appeared to all be beverages in narrow-necked glass bottles. On the little space that was left against the far wall was a freezer, decorated in stickers and notes. So it’s a juice bar? The tweets just mentioned ice cream. There was a hallway by the fridge, presumably leading to bathrooms and the staff area. In front of that and against the right wall were wood tables and chairs with mismatched cushions. There were similar tables meant for two on the left side, with what seemed to be medium sized square lockers, and two vending machines full of those same bottled drinks from the LED screen. It all felt surreal, it was too perfect.

“Excuse me?” Yn’s attention was brought back to reality by the voice of man, one she hadn’t even seen standing behind the bar until that moment. His fingers were intertwined and rested gently on the bar while he leaned forward, as if he’d been calling her for a while. Once he saw he had her attention, he stood upright and smiled sincerely.

“Welcome to our Dream Store!” It was as if the entire scenario was a prank, he was an actor and this business was a set. Everything was still and quiet, with nothing and nobody in existence but this store and the two of them.

Finally, Yn approached the bar.

Instead of a name tag, the name Mingyu was sewn onto the collar of his white dress shirt. He was very tall, and his uniform was clearly tailored for to fit him perfectly. His smile was kind and courteous as he spoke to her.

“Is this your first time here?” He asked gently, but with no less energy in his voice than before. Yn nodded.

“Gotcha, let’s find you a table then.” He chirped, and walked around from behind the bar, grabbing a physical menu from somewhere behind the register. “Do you like to sit by the window, or in the corner?”

“Anywhere that lets me see the exits, please.” She answered softly. Mingyu didn’t seem phased by her request and tapped his chin in thought while looking around. Only then did Yn notice one of the benches by the hallway was taken, where two teenage girls were fast asleep. It wasn’t uncommon to see college kids or overworked employees taking powernaps at cafés, but seeing them sleeping so peacefully while hunched over the table was something Yn found odd. Are those pillows matching the seat cushions?

Mingyu decided to seat her at one of the tables for two, the one closest to the taps on the bar. She could observe the whole store there, and had a clear view of the front door and the hallway, while sitting snugly in the corner by the vending machines. Yn sat down carefully as Mingyu set the menus in front of her. Sitting down brought her attention up, making her notice the peculiar ceiling with exposed beams, cords, pipes, and ducts, all painted white to match the ceiling itself. Something about the unconventional look of it was comforting for Yn, as if the establishment itself was being laid bare for her.

“First, thank you for coming in, we really appreciate your interest,” He smiled awkwardly for a moment before continuing, “I’m going to get someone from the back to watch the register for me, feel free to look at that menu in the meantime.” Mingyu lowered his head a tiny bit then swiftly headed down the hallway.

Thank you for visiting our Dream Store! All the staff here are proud of our beverages, passionate about our purpose, and excited to give you a safe, enjoyable experience when you spend time with us. We believe that we offer your community something special, not only with our drinks, but with our potential to give each visitor a unique and individualized experience.

Mingyu came back before she could read further, with another tall young man behind him, who promptly went behind the counter and washed his hands after smiling in acknowledgment to her. He seemed familiar, but she didn’t know why or how. Mingyu sat himself across from her with a sigh, feeling very nervous and struggling to act like he wasn’t.

“Alright, sorry about that. Did you get a chance to look at the menu?”

“Only the first paragraph.”

“Okay cool, the way the menu explains it is kind of weird, so it’s better that I do it.” Yn only grew more confused. She watched as Mingyu glanced over towards the other man, she wanted to look back to see what was going on, but didn’t. Instead, Yn watched as Mingyu squinted, shook his head in confusion, and then silently gasped in realization, all within a few moments. Mingyu swallowed and nodded to himself before redirecting his focus back to her.

“Is it alright if I know your name?”

“Uh, sure? It’s Yn.” He nodded formally and put on awkward smile.

“It's nice to meet you, I’m Mingyu. Like I said, thanks for coming in today.” He failed to fight the cringe on his own face and hurried past it.

“Essentially, we can offer you different kinds of drinks: juices, sodas, and smoothies. They’re all made by us, with our recipes, and you can either have them made for here or to go, or even from the coolers right here.” He leaned over and patted the cooler that had a variety of colored drinks in sturdy glass bottles.

“Why do you need to explain that to me?” She asked without thinking, having already picked up on the fact that this was a place that sold beverages. It was a selling point that they concoct them themselves, and that they can do all this seemingly without a big brand to fund them, but she doubted that it required introduction to every new customer. Yn heard the man behind the register chuckle, then try to hide it with a cough.

“I was getting there.” He stammered, his face flushing a soft red.

“If you’d like to have something here, there’s the option to make it a sleep aid. We call it a Sleepy. With those, we prepare the drink as we usually would, but instead of the liquid sugar we usually use, we use a mix of liquid sugar and drowsiness medicine. We’ve been able to use that in a low volume but effective dose to allow our customers to have a refreshing drink, followed by a recharging nap.” Yn watched him cringe again as he tried his best to explain it without making it sound as bizarre as it was. He continued as soon as she tried to comment, eager to get it the introduction over with.

“You don’t need to worry though! When a visitor picks one of our sleepy drinks, we give them a key to their corresponding table, and that key opens one of those lockers. You can put your things there beforehand so you know they’re safe while you sleep. We have cameras in here and outside, and there’s always at least one member of staff on duty who's trained to handle altercations of any kind, and all of us are trained in first aid and emergency procedures like CPR.” There was another chuckle from behind her, and he didn’t even try to hide it this time. Mingyu glared at him, and this gave Yn her opening to speak.

“So you take safety seriously, that’s good…” She was at a loss of what to say, having been bombarded with information, all of it outside of what she’d expected. She wasn't sure what the odds were leaning toward: him having a scripted yet speedy and thorough defense to any worries or questions she’d have, or that he’d flounder as soon as she asked for details.

“Of course we do. We know it’s a risk to just take a nap at a café. Especially one run but a bunch of young adult guys. But we’re trying something new that no one else in the world is doing, and we really believe in it.” Mingyu’s sudden sentiment was sincere, and his nervousness looked more like vulnerability now. Something compelled her to trust him. Maybe what he was saying about having something completely unique wasn’t true, Yn had no clue, but it might as well be for a town like theirs.

“You’ll notice that we have 13 distinct drink options available right now, each one named after a member of the staff.” Mingyu  opened the menu and flipped a few pages till Yn could see depictions of each of the drinks. They were colorful, and beautifully presented on the pages, with descriptions of each one. He stopped on a page of cool toned drinks.

“Let’s say you come in and decide to order a Sleepy Mingyu, that’s this one,” He pointed to the deep purple iced drink and tapped its picture fondly. “It’ll come in a medium glass bottle, with a straw and napkin of course, along with a locker key that corresponds to whatever table you pick. While we’re making it, you can put your stuff in the locker, and inside the locker will be a small pillow, but you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. We switch the covers after every use and wash all of them each night, so don’t worry about that either. You can decide to keep the key with you, or give it to whoever’s at the register for safekeeping.” He began to ramble again, wracking his brain to make sure he mentioned everything Yn could possibly need to know while to keep himself from growing too embarrassed. She sat there patiently, listening as he helped her understand. He seemed to grow more uneasy with each word.

“You’ll probably want to wait at your table till the drink is done, it usually takes less than five minutes. We’ll bring it to you.”

Mingyu paused and took a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek in thought, picking his words carefully. He hadn’t looked at her since his sentiment about safety and now it seemed like he was actively choosing not to look up at her.

“The Sleepys only come in medium because the drowsiness medicine is fast acting, and we try to make sure that you’ll have enough time to finish it all before you fall asleep.” He looked to the man behind the counter, and this time Yn dared to look at him too. But he only looked at Mingyu, giving his coworker an encouraging, albeit aggressive, thumbs up. Mingyu shook his head.

“This is really weird, Jun. How do you guys explain this kind of thing without seeming creepy?!” He seemed deeply upset, frustrated and on the verge of tears. It suddenly felt like Yn was intruding on something private.

“Take a breath, okay?” The man came around the counter and spoke gently to his colleague, kneeling to the ground like a father would when speaking to a child. He was close enough now that Yn could read the name on his collar as Junhui. He put his hand on Mingyu’s knee and squeezed it a few times, urging him to relax. Then he turned to Yn.

“Once you finish your drink, you’re gonna fall asleep, and we’ll watch over you while you do. You’ll have a great dream, and we’ll wake you up at whatever time you told us to when you ordered, or after you’ve been asleep for 2 hours.” Junhui stood back up, and patted Mingyu’s shoulder while still looking at Yn.

“Mingyu is a really great guy. He cares a lot about people and about what we're trying to do here. And if you ask me, his drink is one of the best.” Junhui’s smile was warm and his tone of voice was calming as he praised his friend. Mingyu still couldn’t look at her, facing away from her entirely and looking downtrodden. Yn didn’t know what to say and instead decided to read the blurb about Mingyu's concoction.

A sweetly rich concord grape flavored soda! Mingyu’s soda brings one’s imagination to life, while remaining proud and inspired.

“I’ll try it.” She spoke casually, trying to imagine what such a drink would taste like. It had been so long since she’d had a grape flavored drink of any kind, and something carbonated sounded great in that moment.

“You don’t have to.” Mingyu said pitifully, assuming she chose his drink to help him feel better.

“The picture looks really pretty, I wanna see if it really looks like that.” Her bluntness stunned him, and he wondered if she was bluffing. Even so, he resolved to grin and bare it, standing up from the table. Junhui stepped back and smiled, leaving silently as Mingyu went back behind the counter.

“Alright… Let’s get it ordered then!” He bolstered, ready to reaffirm himself in the form of a fancy looking grape juice.f

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Aight my dudes here’s chapter four of Oopsie Daisies have fun. Thanks again to @edward-or-ford for editing!

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies Chapter Four: Shadows

You’re all I want and I don’t know why. This new addiction is all I know, and it’s safe to say that I’ve lost control. - 2 in the Chest, 1 in the Head, New Years Day

Mabel knew a great many things. She knew how to fix rips in tights and leggings without making it noticeable (and if it was noticeable, it was fucking fabulous, okay?). She knew how to straighten and re-curl her hair in just the right way. She knew how to contour her makeup to change the way her facial structure appeared, and how to paint a mug while keeping it dishwasher safe.

Mabel was, of course, interested enough in those things to learn about them. What she was not interested in is how things work. It was far more important that they do work rather than how, as far as she was concerned. So whenever her Grunkles, dad, and Dipper got together to watch a marathon of How It’s Made on the Shack’s frankly ancient TV, both Mabel and her mom were bored out of their minds.

She was forced to learn plenty in school, thank you very much. It was winter break. She didn’t wanna learn on winter break. Gross. That’s the exact opposite of what winter break is for, and Mabel was of the opinion that doing otherwise is positively blasphemous, but under the careful tutelage of her mother, she’d long since stopped trying to understand the males of the species. Or rather, the males of her family specifically (she’d managed to obtain a vague grasp on the male minds outside of her family, or at least some of them, she thought. Perhaps the boys at her school were just easy to read, or maybe it was teenage boys in general. Not that they were strictly logical in her mind, of course; she just understood how their brains worked to some degree).

And so, an hour after they return to the Shack from the hike, Mabel found herself standing at the kitchen counter, carefully stacking the fifty-seventh (she hadn’t counted, of course, but it was indeed the fifty-seventh) mini marshmallow on top of its companions in her mug of hot chocolate while the beginnings of their silly show blared in the background.

She was humming an old BABBA song as she plucked another marshmallow from the bag, swaying her hips back and forth to the beat in her mind. She stopped when she heard the sound of footsteps, looking over her shoulder to see Dipper shuffling into the room on socked feet.

He was looking everywhere but her. Mabel found this unusual, but what was infinitely more odd was the way he walked over to her quietly, dropped a folded piece of paper at her feet, and then promptly moved to open the fridge as if nothing at all had occurred.

Dropping the marshmallow into her mug, she reached down to retrieve the paper.

“Uh… Dip, you dro-“

“What do you think I should have to drink?” Dipper cut in quickly, the words sloppy and thrown together without proper enunciation.

Mabel blinked. He didn’t want her to ask about it, that much was evident. A note for her, then, perhaps? A secret note?

“Well… I’m having hot chocolate, myself,” she suggested.

“With an obscene number of marshmallows, I see.”

Mabel gasped and put a hand to her chest. “Me? My dear brother, I am positively offended that you would even suggest such a thing!”

He grinned. “Maybe I’ll have some more cider.” He poured himself a glass and left the room before Mabel could think to ask about the paper again.

Glancing around to make sure nobody was coming, she turned back towards her mug, just so, if needed, she could shove the paper into her sweater pocket unnoticed and pretend she was still preparing her hot chocolate. She unfolded it carefully. Dipper didn’t write her handwritten notes. She was a bit excited (more than a bit, but she would never admit to such a thing). Sue her. His handwriting was messy, and she had some minor difficulties reading it, but she did manage to decipher it after a brief moment of staring at the page.

I need to talk to you in private. Once everyone’s gone to bed here, I’ll pick you up from Candy’s. I’ll text you if anything goes wrong.

In private? Mabel’s heart might very well have stopped. She’d never been alone with Dipper. This afternoon had been the closest she’d ever come to it. Even then, though, they hadn’t been actually, truly, genuinely, legitimately alone. Their parents had been right there. And then they’d been interrupted. Their parents were always there.

She was so nervous, so focused on the way her heart was pounding in her ears, that she completely forgot to put the marshmallows away.

—————

If Mabel could see how nervous Dipper was as he pulled on his jeans and shoes, she wouldn’t have believed it was in any way related to her. If it was somehow proven to her that it was related to her, however, she would have been thrilled beyond all measure.

But Mabel couldn’t see Dipper, as he was on the other end of a text message that read leaving now, and so she remained wholly unaware of the absolute terror he wasn’t bothering to keep from his facial expression, as there was none of the usual audience present.

With no one around to request an explanation, Dipper felt no need to keep his anxiety in check as he placed his shaking foot on the last stair of the Shack.

He was about to walk over to the coat rack by the front door when-

“Dipper,” rang out his father’s voice, the low tone sounding like a roar in the quiet of the house.

Dipper whirled around to face his dad, who was seated in an armchair hidden in the shadows of the living room. It was no wonder Dipper hadn’t noticed him before he spoke; he could’ve been a shadow himself.

Dipper was relieved it was too dark for Mr. Pines to see his expression clearly, the man’s face obscured by darkness. He instead concerned himself with his body language and voice. He hunched himself over as if he were barely awake and faked a yawn.

“Dad, you scared me.”

“What are you doing up this late?” Mr. Pines asked.

“Getting a glass of water. Woke up thirsty,” Dipper explained, careful to keep his voice tired-sounding.

“Mmm,” Mr. Pines nodded. “Kitchen’s that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction Dipper had been walking in, as if Dipper didn’t live there and was not fully aware of the Shack’s layout (note: Dipper was indeed fully aware of the Shack’s layout and could certainly navigate it half asleep).

“Huh?” Dipper said with false bleariness. “Oh, right.”

Shuffling into the kitchen, Dipper poured himself a glass of water and moved sluggishly back to the living room with it in hand.

“Goodnight, son.”

“Night, dad,” Dipper mumbled with more fake sleepiness.

If Mabel had seen it, she wouldn’t know what to feel. But she hadn’t seen it, because Dipper was on the other end of a dad’s awake, we’ll have to tomorrow text.

She also couldn’t see the expression he made when she replied, asking why he couldn’t just text it to her, and not to keep her in suspense, nor could Dipper see her inflamed face (and neck and ears, if we’re honest, but don’t share such observances with Mabel) or the way she was biting her lip nervously, perhaps he might not have been as nervous. Perhaps he might have even been hopeful.

But alas, neither twin had the other in their sight, and were therefore doomed to be eaten alive by their anxiety and respective insecurities.

If one knows anything about teenage girls (and perhaps even a fair percentage of women as well), one is fully cognizant of the rather unfortunate tendency many of them have to analyze, reanalyze, and overanalyze each individual word, action, and tone of voice that emerges from the object of their affection.

In Mabel’s case, she was seated on the cold tiles of Candy’s bathroom, back leaning against the locked door. It was late enough that Grenda and Candy were asleep, thankfully. Recently, Mabel had been taking forever to fall asleep. Which was strange, because she had never had any issues that could be anywhere near insomnia before. Thus, everyone else fell asleep before she did.

It wasn’t her fault. Honestly, it wasn’t! It was just that Dipper was so damn attractive and sweet and funny, and how could she sleep when she could only fight her thoughts of him while conscious? He plagued her dreams, so she couldn’t even escape him in sleep the way she used to be able to do. He had invaded her every thought, every moment, every breath. He was in her bloodstream. In her veins. She could not escape her yearning for him.

And so, as she sat on the bathroom floor staring at her phone, at Dipper’s last text of I need to tell you in person, she typed out a slow, resigned okay and leaned her head back against the door.

What was going on with him? He’d told her so many things over text before and it had never been an issue. Why was this different? Maybe he was only insisting on telling her in person because they were so close distance-wise, which wasn’t a regular occurance, of course, but maybe he’d have been perfectly fine with telling her whatever it was over text if she hadn’t been visiting Gravity Falls? Or maybe he’d want to FaceTime or Skype instead? Or maybe it was so very important he tell her in person that he’d actually been waiting since the last time they had seen each other?

But what could be so important? How was it so important he needed to tell her in person? Was it truly so different than every other thing he’d ever told her? Countless stories and anecdotes and complaints and late-night phone calls and existential discussions; how was this different?

No matter how much she thought and analyzed it (which, rest assured, was a great deal indeed), she kept coming back to one thing, one unthinkable, horrifying, terrifying, heart-wrenching, devastating scenario:

What if he’d found his soulmate?

What else would have been so important, made it so essential he told her in person? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

Dipper had never mentioned how he felt about the prospect of having a soulmate. He knew how she felt about hers, and having a soulmark, but he’d never shared his own feelings with her in return.

Which was fair, honestly, because soulmates and soulmarks were intensely personal things. She might as well have asked him to strip down and do some nude modeling for her (which, side note, that sounded positively heavenly. She never drew him or painted him where anybody could see; only in the secret sketchbook she kept in a locked drawer in her bedroom, and those drawings were primarily focused on his jawline and facial structure, although she had drawn his butt on more than a few occasions. And his arms. And his torso. What could she say? She looked at him a lot, studied the way he moved, and he inspired her to create. In any case, she’d absolutely love to see him naked, obviously, because who wouldn’t, but to draw him… get it together Mabel, you’re getting all worked up!), which… was not going to happen, tragically.

He’d never shared anything regarding his soulmate with her. That meant, of course, that he hadn’t found his yet, nor was he in the unusual soulmarked-but-not-knowing-with-whom situation that Mabel herself was in. As indicated by his insistence on telling her in person (which he had, of course, never insisted upon before, or even expressed a passing desire to tell her something in person rather than digitally), whatever it was must have been more important than anything he’d ever told her.

What was more important than him finding his soulmate? She couldn’t think of another possibility. Couldn’t even fathom it, no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately, she couldn’t really fathom the possibility that he might’ve found his soulmate, either, but that was primarily because she didn’t want to.

What would that be like, to watch him with his soulmate? Knowing Mabel’s luck, she’d never find out who hers was (she’d clearly been around him her whole life and had yet to find him, so what were the odds she’d figure it out later? Once she left school, she’d probably start experiencing withdrawal symptoms, which would be horrible, but she had long since accepted the likelihood of that), and since she saw Dipper regularly and talked to him all the time, it wasn’t likely she’d get over him.

Family gatherings could be a real bitch.

Which meant, of course, that Mabel was doomed to suffer withdrawal symptoms for the rest of her life while watching the man she loved, who just so happened to be her twin brother, find his soulmate, fall in love, get married, and have children. It was when she considered things like that that the idea of regularly consuming Smile Dip sounded fan-freaking-tastic. At least then she’d be too out of it to suffer.

Mabel wasn’t one for wallowing in self-pity and misery. She was a fairly positive person. Whenever she found herself moping or depressed, she could usually pull herself out of it. In that respect, she was tremendously lucky, as not everyone was capable of that.

But with this, loving Dipper (or rather, being in love with Dipper, which she very much was)... there was this sadness deep inside of her that she just couldn’t seem to shake. She could tuck it away in the back of her mind, pretend it wasn’t there. At least for awhile, anyway. But it never left. Not really. It was always there, in the box she’d locked it away in. Sometimes, though, the box broke open, and it would consume her, like shadows consuming light.

When she thought of Dipper with his soulmate, smiling at a nameless, faceless stranger, beaming at his wedding (knowing Dipper, he’d insist she be a bridesmaid. What agony that would be), holding a child that wasn’t Mabel’s, could never, ever be Mabel’s (Mabel would probably be the godmother, too), the shadows never failed to consume her.

She pulled her legs to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees, and let the tears fall.

[lord-tathamet]

Dinner Plans

A short story almost two years of age, that I once wrote for a university class. Found it again, dusted it off, polished it slightly, but let it retain that little bit of amateurish writing simply to marvel at how far I’ve come with my writing ever since. 

Enjoy. 

For the fifth time in the last two hours did the man with the moustache and sunglasses look up from his research and look at the face of the clock of the broken church. He scowled beneath the moustache, but forced himself to look at it regardless.

4:18 pm.

They were late, as per usual. He shook his head and focused back on his literature. He made the mental note to have a number of alarm clocks be send to each of them for next time. Flatteringly Photoshopped pictures of the Mexican coast reflected in his sunglasses while his eyes skimmed through the brochure's whimsical descriptions of the rich culture of its indigenous people and beautiful beaches.  He skipped through a couple of pages until he found what he was looking for. A decidedly too sharply fined and too pale fingernail stabbed into the page displaying the photograph of an ancient, grey pyramid.

The man sitting behind the shining aluminium table was tall, narrow and sharply dressed: a suit jacket with bloodstone cufflinks, black suit-pants, a clean white shirt only slightly wrinkled and  two buttons open. His legs ended in a pair of shiny, pointy shoes. His face was stern and angular, with pronounced cheekbones and a pointed chin. Bushy eyebrows sat above the pair of sunglasses that protected his eyes against the sun, and a long white moustache grew beneath the hooked nose which gave his appearance a certain roguish charm. A wavy mane of grey-white hair surrounded his face and hid the pointed tips of his ears, giving him certain qualities akin to an old lion. It was difficult to clearly guess his age, but anyone briefly passing by and glancing at him would take him for a very spry looking gentleman in his mid-fifties.

Leaning in on his read, the man with the white moustache made a few notes on a small block of paper. The pen he used was black, ornamented with silver filigree and absurdly expensive, as was the ink held within. Next to the note pad stood an untouched and by now cold cup of coffee, its content as pitch-black as a dark winter night and reflecting the bright afternoon sun above.  Disgusting in taste and disgustingly cheap in comparison, but he needed the table, and none of the waiters would bother him as long as he had at least one beverage in front of him, as maligned and untouched it was.

Cars rolled by exhuming grey fumes, the nearby fountain shot water into the air and people passed his table. Most of them in casual summer clothes, sundresses and cargo pants and shirts and some of them even with hats to gain some shade. For a moment, the man looked up from his notes and allowed himself a brief indulgence – the eyes behind the sunglasses darted from one healthy neck to another. A small, wolfish smile parted the pale lips and if there had been anyone to pay close attention, they would have gained a brief glance at his very pointed, very sharp and unusually long canines.

“Good afternoon, count.”

The man in the white moustache begrudgingly pulled his eyes away from his current mark – a lovely Turkish woman with streaming black hair that was climbing the stairs around the fountain just a shy dozen feet from his table, close enough for him to smell the sweet mixture of blood and perfume she exhumed – and he turned to the youth that had seated herself opposite of him, soundless and sudden as if she had appeared out of the thin air.

“And to you, countess. You are looking lively as always.”

She seemed young enough to be his granddaughter, though no one within their right mind would have thought to imagine a superficial familiarity between the two. A girl of fourteen years, with a healthy, rosy complexion and flowing, lush dark hair that curled at her shoulders, the sunshine twisting golden shimmers into its waves. Large doe-like eyes that projected innocence and hid a vicious intellect, a petite body that suggested fragility and cloaked the strength to bend iron bars as if they were straws. She was in white, of course she was, a pretty, knee-length dress and a white handbag in her lap and with her hands folded atop of it. The lid of her bag, the man with the moustache noted with a mild amusement, was riddled with numerous, colourful stickers and badges, and around her wrists hung several loops and bands of tiny gemstones like rainbow wreaths.

They were the only change about her since their last meeting.

“Thank you. My sincere apologies, there was an unfortunate delay with the train between Kassel and Hannover.” She shook her head. “More than five centuries since the invention of rail transport and still a simple thing like an open door may stall a train's journey for almost an entire fifteen minutes.”

She nodded at the travel brochure still open in front of him. “Are you already planning your next journey? I thought you would stay in Berlin a little while longer.”

“I am a traveller at heart, milady. Although my beloved home will always be in the heart of Europe, the other continents do possess their own charming allure,” he replied, setting the brochure and note block aside. “And besides, it has been a while since I have last visited the Americas. There must be much exciting game to be hunted there.”

“Always about excitement, is that the reason you wanted us all to meet here of all places?” The countess nudged her chin toward the broken church spire in the background, a disgusted sneer cracking her face. “And mirroring glass everywhere around us. One of these days, your thrill-seeking hunts might cost you your life.”

“How would the youth of your seeming generation say? No risk, no fun.” The count let his eyes wander around the square for a moment. “Where is Laura? The two of you were practically bound at the hip when we last met.”

The young-seeming woman stiffened in her seat. The snarl dissolved into a very neutral, very calm expression that seemed like it was carved from marble. “Laura is... no longer with us.”

A single eyebrow rose, but otherwise the count's face remained unmoved. “Hunters?

“No.” There was a subtle tremble of her lip, the count noted, before she continued: “She could no longer bear it, she told me, moments before she drove the knife through her own neck. She betrayed me, just like the others before her.”

“My condolences.”

She nodded, her face remaining neutral. “It has been over three decades since. I have moved on as best as I could.

“In fact,” she allowed herself a smile,” I happen to have a date just after we met up with our friends.”

“You still insist on fraternizing with your prey?” The count sneered. “Now that is a carelessness that will get you killed one day.”

“Because unlike you, I seek actual companionship?” Her eyes glinted like sharp icicles in the sun. “Because unlike you, I do not wish to to prolong myself in solitude and run afoul like some pack-less dog? Because I want to spend this blasted eternity with someone like myself?”

Blue flashed and briefly turned red. For a moment, the two stared at each other with an intensity not unlike of two big cats, every individual muscle tense and ready to pounce. Then as quickly as the moment came, it passed.

“I did not mean to insult you, milady. Forgive me. I only worry about others of our kind. We are already so very few remaining,” the count sighed.

“Do not kid yourself, count. You care for nobody but yourself,” the countess replied, but she too relaxed in her seat.

The next five minutes they spent in silence. The count returned to his brochure, only briefly looking up to take notes and to send another quick glance up at the clock tower. The young woman had produced a smartphone from her handbag and immersed herself in the screen, brief smiles lighting up her face in between her typing and the brief ping of sent messages.

“Empusa will be here in half an hour,” she said after little while and looked up from the screen. “She is picking up Lamia from the airport and helping her through customs right now.”

“What about Schreck?”

“The sun is still up, remember? He will meet us after dusk.”

“His mutation is as highly fascinating as it is impractical,” the count murmured. “Why didn't they update me about it?”

“We do possess a text chain, you know. I'm surprised you are not part of it, since you are always the one organizing our meetings.”

“I refuse to touch one of those damnable Apps ever since Lestat sent around pictures of his own rectum to everyone.”

“Suit yourself. Why the Americas?”

The count tapped his finger on the table. “The Mexica people of pre-Columbian America possessed fascinating religious rites related to blood sacrifice to honour their gods...I wonder if there might be others of our kind still in their old territory.”

The countess fiddled with her smartphone. “Sometimes, I admit, I envy your ability to travel without restraint. I tried everything, yet I still must return to my family's tomb ever so often.”

“Have you considered moving your tomb in its entirety, stone by stone? There are still many old woods and mountain valleys unmolested by human hand. I am sure the hags you usually travel with would be most grateful for the exercise.”

“I have tried, once, when Laura was still with me.” A twinge of sorrow crept across her face. “I wanted to go far, far away from home and take her with me. But then, my body began to wither, my senses to decay the longer I prolonged returning to my tomb for a night. Laura, too, could not go long without a place to return to. Horse-carriages can only get you so far. And when we tried to move a single stone, what little strength I had left in that moment was about to leave me.”

The count hummed. Then his own phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, swiped across the screen, read the message in silence. A wolfish grin split his face.  

“Then you'll be happy to know that I plan on putting an end to these laws that seem to bind us.”

“What to you mean?” The countess leaned forward, an eyebrow arched.

“I planned on surprising all of you when Schreck, Lamia and the others would be gathered with us, but I might just as well reveal it all now,” the count smiled and leaned back, hands tapered together. There was a red gleam to his eyes, behind the sunglasses. “In my studies of the Americas, I came across a new initiate to our little circle – one that shares many of my own tastes and wishes to help others of his kin. Among such, is breaking the accursed bindings placed upon us.”

He extended a pointing finger. “He is currently sitting on the other end of the Breitscheidplatz. The tall man, olive skinned, with the gold rings in his ears.”

The countess followed his direction, narrowed her blue eyes to a glint. “What is his name?”

“The old Mayan people called him Camazotz. And he might very well be one of the first of our kind to walk this earth.”

On the other end of the square, the tall, olive-skinned man with golden rings in both his ears turned his head and nodded at them. His eyes gleamed in a blood-red, and for just a moment, both of the undead nobles could catch a glimpse of his shadow flickering across the wall behind him.

For just a split-second, they saw the shadow of a bat the size of a small house, stretching its wings and enveloping the street within its grasp.

[flipomatic]

A New World Chapter 9: Study Session

Author Note: Yes, this is another Lisa chapter. I am aware of how many there have been. We’ll get to Yukina’s side when it’s time.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

__________________________________________________________

The train to and from university was usually crowded. Lisa found herself traveling at the busiest times of the day, during morning and afternoon rush hour. She often stood in the crowd, with just a pole or overhead handle to hang on to.

Today she had been lucky enough to get a seat as she headed towards home, after another long day of university classes. Her school bag was heavy with textbooks, a different one for each course. She’d been busy reading them and filling them with sticky notes to mark important pages.

As her professors had reminded her, multiple times over the last week, midterms were soon. They didn’t start until next week, but that didn’t leave a lot of time to prepare.

Even though she’d been studying all semester, Lisa didn’t feel at all prepared for midterms. They were a significant portion of her grades too, so she couldn’t afford to fail them. If she wanted to pass, she needed to buckle down and study.

Lisa looked at her phone, clicking the calendar app. There were two Roselia practices between now and the start of midterms, both long rehearsals. Lisa clicked to her class schedule, with a sigh escaping from her lips.

If she wanted to get enough studying time in, she wasn’t going to be able to attend those practices. She wasn’t even going to have time to practice on her own, which was also quite frustrating.

Lisa had been working hard to step up her bass playing. The extra rehearsal with Yukina had been more productive than she expected, since they were able to focus on just the bass and vocals. Yukina had helped with her with tone, and providing more nuance to match each song. Lisa hoped that they would practice like that again someday.

Now though, she needed to put her music aside for a short while. Her college courses all required her undivided attention. It hurt to do so, especially since she had been putting so much effort into improving for the band.

Lisa clicked out of the calendar app and into her texts. She started typing in the Roselia group chat. “Hey, I’m not going to be able to make practice Thursday or Sunday. Sorry!!!” Lisa included a praying emoji at the end to express her sincerity.

Immediately, a bar popped up showing that Sayo was typing. “I wish you told us sooner.” Lisa could imagine her scolding tone. “That brings us to three for Thursday.” Right, Rinko had already been unable to make Thursday’s practice. Like Lisa’s, her schoolwork had been ramping up as the semester continued.

“Midterms snuck up on me, please forgive me Sayo!” Lisa knew that Sayo wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her if she phrased it like that. At least, she hoped that she wouldn’t.

“Hmm.” Sayo sent that short message, then spent about thirty seconds typing the next one. “Very well, but you owe the band extra practice time.” That was fair.

“Are we still gonna meet Thursday?” Ako chimed in, using a question mark face emoji.

“I will be missing that practice as well.” Yukina’s message popped up. Lisa could hear her voice in her ear, the way she would say those words. What she said was a bit of a surprise though.

Sayo typed quickly in response. “Minato-san, not you too…” She was likely shaking her head, wherever she was. Even if Yukina could go, it would’ve made sense to cancel the Thursday rehearsal. They almost never practice with just three members.

“It’s fine, we’ll still practice Sunday.” Yukina brushed off Sayo’s disappointment. They would have four members on Sunday, even with Lisa cancelling.

“I’ll contact the studio to cancel.” Lisa felt bad as she typed the words, since it was her fault they were cancelling. Though, maybe not. If Yukina wasn’t going to attend, they might’ve cancelled anyway. Lisa jotted down in her notes app to call Circle when she got home.

With that done, she shut off the screen on her phone and let her hands rest in her lap.

Lisa wondered why Yukina couldn’t go on Thursday. She usually had her schedule organized far in advance, including homework and individual practice time. Yukina planned ahead well, always prepared for what was ahead.

Maybe Lisa would ask next time she saw her. If she remembered, since that wouldn’t be until near the end of next week.

Lisa glanced up to check which stop they were at; she would get off in three.

Her phone buzzed against her leg, which was probably a continuation in the group text. Lisa picked it up and flipped it over, surprised to see that her assumption had been incorrect.

A message from Yukina had appeared across the screen, sent only to Lisa. “Do you want to study together?” Lisa squinted at it for a moment, not sure what to make of it.

She tapped the message to open it, slowly typing a response back. “What do you mean?” Yukina was acting so strange today.

The time it took Yukina to respond felt like forever. “On Thursday, I need to study too. Perhaps we could do it together.” She wanted to come study with Lisa? The sound of Lisa’s stop being called snapped her attention away from her phone, and she stood to get off the train.

She exited the station and started walking towards home, which was only a few blocks away. That message from Yukina was still there, waiting for a response.

Though they had just spent time practicing together, this felt like a completely different kind of request. It almost felt like, no, that couldn’t be. This couldn’t be an invitation for a date, could it? The last time they studied together, it was because they were taking the same classes. Now though, Yukina was studying vocal performance. She wasn’t learning about any of the same topics as Lisa.

No, Lisa shook her head, there was no way this was a date. Studying was something friends did together, not romantic at all. Regardless, the offer filled Lisa with warmth. She typed back. “Was getting off the train, I’d love to study with you!” A couple heart emojis followed.

“I’ll bring cookies.” It was a short reply, but it still sent a jolt through Lisa’s heart.

She stopped at the store on the way home to get some snacks, so she would have something to serve on Thursday.

Lisa hadn’t been excited about her midterms earlier, but now she was looking forward to studying.

______________________________________________________

When Lisa got home from school on Thursday, right at 4:00 pm, she immediately started preparing for Yukina’s visit. She had made flashcards for her hardest class, science, which would be a good tool to study while Yukina was there. Lisa set them out on the table in her room, to make sure they were ready.

She also made sure to bring up all the snacks she had bought, just in case Yukina was hungry. Lisa hadn’t had time to bake her own snacks, so store bought would have to do. Whatever kinds of cookies Yukina brought could be added to the plate.

Lisa got some studying done after that, tackling her literature course. It was best to study that one alone, since it mostly involved reading. She was able to put Yukina out of her mind, at least for a while, and read a decent chunk of the assigned reading.

She stopped studying to join her family for dinner, before heading back to her room.

Then, Lisa had to wait. She knew Yukina had class late on Thursdays, with studio time at her school going past 5:00. She would eat dinner before coming over, which meant she likely wouldn’t arrive until at least 6:30, or not until 7:00. It was only 6:15.

The best thing Lisa could do while she waited was keep studying. Now though, it was a lot harder to focus than it had been earlier. Yukina could arrive at any minute, could come into Lisa’s room.

Lisa told herself that she was being silly, that Yukina had just been here last week to rehearse together, that Yukina used to come over and study all the time.

There was a tension in the air today, it felt different. Lisa knew it was probably her own overactive imagination causing it, but she couldn’t help it.

As the clock ticked slowly forward, she had trouble staying focused on her book. Lisa nibbled on one of the snacks, a small cracker, to ease her nerves. She went to the bathroom to reapply some light makeup, then returned to her studies.

At 6:40, the doorbell rang. Lisa called to her parents that she would get it, dropping her book and quickly heading down the stairs.

A familiar silhouette could be seen through the front door. Lisa pulled it open, beaming at her guest. “Thanks for coming!”

Yukina stepped through the open door, the small smile on her face equivalent to Lisa’s. She had her school bag, as well as a grocery bag. She nodded, then walked past Lisa into the house.

Yukina left her shoes by the door and the pair went upstairs to Lisa’s room. As Lisa shut her bedroom door, those nerves from earlier returned.

They didn’t make sense, but she couldn’t shake them. Even as she watched Yukina sit down on the ground next to the table, the same way she had a thousand times before, Lisa felt nervous. This wasn’t a date, she reminded herself. She was just studying with her best friend.

She joined Yukina at the table, opening the plastic bag that she’d placed on it. Inside was a small plasticware container, which was full of cookies.

“These look great.” Lisa commented as she popped open the lid. A wave of freshly baked scents spread through the room. Lisa placed a few onto the place with the other snacks, keeping one to eat right now. It was soft in the middle and firm around the edges, cooked for perhaps slightly too long. The flavor was good though, chocolate and peanut butter.

“What do you think?” Yukina asked, her expression far too serious for the question. Did she make these? That was so sweet of her; Lisa wanted to lean over and engulf her in a hug.

This was another strange behavior though. Lisa could count on her fingers the number of times Yukina had baked for her.

It only set Lisa’s nerves further on edge.

Lisa took another bite, swallowing before replying. “It’s delicious.” Yukina’s face relaxed at the assertion, and she reached for a cookie as well.

Yukina started eating it and seemed satisfied enough to continue.

“What do you need to study for?” Lisa asked as she finished hers, transitioning to the reason they were there.

Yukina flipped open her school bag, lifting out a large textbook. “Music theory.” She said simply, setting the book at an open space on the table. “You have your midterms soon, right?”

“Yeah~” Lisa reached for her stack of flashcards, which were still on the table from earlier. “Science is on Monday.” She had so many things to memorize, and very little time to get it done in.

The two settled into silence as they began studying, not as comfortable as Lisa was used to it being. She flipped through her flashcards, aware of the small sound they made as they were flipped over.

Yukina didn’t seem to notice. She had her eyes locked onto her textbook, and was reading through it. Lisa couldn’t help but glance at her once, then twice, couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking when she asked to do this.

As Lisa returned to her flashcards, she tried to stay focused on them. It was always tempting to flip the card over early, even if she really needed to take time to think about the answer. As she flipped more cards, she discovered that she didn’t know a lot of these terms.

“Would you like me to hold those for you?” Yukina’s voice interrupted Lisa mid card, drawing her gaze.

“That’s ok Yukina, I’ve got it!” Lisa gave her best cat smile.

Yukina didn’t seem impressed. “Can you remember the ones you’ve done so far?” Her hand moved to the small pile of completed cards, snatching them up before Lisa could protest.

“Ummm…” Lisa tried to think back on them, she really did. One had been about carbon, or something. Other than that she was drawing blanks.

Her silence answered the question. “Let me help.” Yukina reached forward with one open palm, the implication clear.

“Don’t you need to study too?” Lisa protested. It would be silly for Yukina to help her with a class she wasn’t taking.

Yukina’s hand didn’t budge. “My tests are a week after yours.”

Lisa sighed, Yukina was just too stubborn for her own good. It was one of the things Lisa admired about her, her persistence towards her goals.

Lisa reluctantly handed over the rest of the cards.

Yukina practically had a cat smile of her own as she mixed the old cards with the larger stack. Then she drew one off the top, showing one side to Lisa.

They continued this activity for a while, with Lisa giving the definitions and answers for each card. She didn’t want to admit it, but this was more productive than studying the cards alone.

Yukina seemed to be enjoying reading the back of the flashcards. She commented sometimes on their contents, about how this science class seemed interesting. Lisa felt more at ease as they worked, settling into the familiarity between her and Yukina.

They worked through the stack of cards, pausing for a break after about an hour.

Lisa went downstairs to make some tea, bringing it back up to her room. She prepared Yukina’s exactly how she liked it.

When she came back into the room, Yukina was flipping through the flashcards. She looked up as Lisa approached.

“Thank you.” Yukina took her teacup from Lisa, cradling it in her hands. Lisa sat back down next to her and sipped her drink.

For a moment, they drank their tea in silence.

Lisa broke it, as she often did. “How’ve your classes been going?” It felt like an appropriate topic, since they were there to study.

“Good, for the most part. I’ve learned a lot from my vocals professor.” Yukina said with a small nod.

“That’s great.” Lisa took another sip of her tea. A thought crossed her mind. Yukina hadn’t ever mentioned anything about her new peers. “Have you been making friends with your classmates?” Lisa thought she might as well ask, even if Yukina wasn’t offering up the information.

Yukina’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No, not at all.” That didn’t really surprise Lisa. “They’re not interested in Roselia.” That was a funny way to put it, like she had tried to tell them all about the band.

Another thought came, triggered by the word interested. This one was unwelcome. What if Yukina had met someone she liked? That seemed unlikely too, but the notion triggered a point of pain in Lisa’s stomach, where she carried stress and anxiety. All the emotions she felt earlier, all of her uncertainty, swept back in. “Did you, umm.” Lisa covered her nervousness with a giggle. “Meet anyone you’re interested in?”

Now Yukina raised an eyebrow. “Interested in?”

Lisa regretted asking, but it was too late to back down now. “Romantically interested.” She clarified, rushing through the words.

Yukina’s expression settled into a frown. “I’m not looking for a relationship there. My focus is on my voice and Roselia.” Her tone was low, carrying a hint of irritation at the question.

Of course, why would Lisa ever expect anything different. Just as today’s study session was definitely not a date, Yukina would not be interested in any of her classmates. She was focused on her music, not anyone else, and certainly not Lisa.

Yukina wasn’t interested in a relationship.

Lisa never should have gotten her hopes up. She knew better, after all this time.

She hadn’t said anything for Yukina to reject, and yet it felt like one.

“That’s very you.” Lisa replied, her smile now strained.

Yukina changed the subject, asking about Lisa’s classes. She happily transitioned to the topic, talking about what she was reading for her literature class.

They studied for a couple more hours, making their way through the rest of the flashcards and a dramatic reading of part of Yukina’s textbook.

When Yukina left, Lisa watched out her window until the light came on across the way.

Maybe it was time to give up on changing their relationship. Lisa was too afraid to try, too afraid to mess things up. Perhaps today was a sign that she should just leave it the same.

As long as things could stay like this, and the two of them could stay together, she would be fine. Yukina wasn’t interested in her, she was okay with it. That was what she told herself, looking out at that shining light in the distance.

She needed to be.

As long as she got to stay by Yukina’s side, Lisa could handle it. She always had.

Next Chapter

[searchingwardrobes]

Until the Day Breaks and the Shadows Flee: 4/8

We’ve got some more progress with our slow burn, everyone! Thanks again to @kmomof4 and everyone in the @cssns, my beta @snowbellewells, and my artist @hollyethecurious

Summary: Every night she traces the contours of his body as Killian whispers words of love against her skin. But can Princess Emma ever be fully happy with a husband who only comes to her in utter darkness? A Captain Swan AU of the myth of Cupid and Psyche.

** I’m also curious if anyone knows where the fic and chapter titles come from. Only two people so far have guessed, but since they��re my beta and artist, I’m not sure they count, lol! Anyone else? ***

Rating: M for sexual situations

Words: Almost 3,000 in this chapter

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Also on Ao3

Tagging: @jennjenn615 @kday426 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @welllpthisishappening @profdanglaisstuff @distant-rose @shireness-says @mythologicalmango @wellhellotragic @branlovestowrite @xhookswenchx @optomisticgirl @winterbaby89 @ultraluckycatnd @vvbooklady1256 @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @snidgetsafan @ohmakemeahercules @delirious-latenight-laughs @gingerchangeling @nikkiemms @revanmeetra87 @cocohook38 @effulgentcolors

Chapter Four: Finest Wine

Apparently, Emma’s new home wasn’t the paradise she had assumed, for the next morning rain beat upon the roof and lightning flashed across the sky. Of course, she supposed the flowers needed the rain as much as they needed the sun.

She had been here for a week now and had fallen into a routine each morning. Ariel came to help her dress and do her hair, then she went downstairs and took her breakfast in the salon. It was smaller than the formal dining room, and therefore it felt less awkward to dine alone there. She also loved the wall made entirely of windows that faced the rose garden, and the room itself was filled with ferns and other potted plants.

On this rainy morning, however, the wind was howling and thunder rumbled throughout the castle. A wall of glass didn’t seem quite so inviting, so she asked Ariel if Tink would bring her breakfast up to the sitting room just off the master bedroom. In true fairy fashion, the table set itself automatically, Emma’s desired breakfast of scones and scrambled eggs already on her plate. She sat at the small table, but before she picked up her fork, she called into the empty room.

“Do you not like me, Tinkerbell?”

A darting ball of light swooped over the breakfast table, then grew in size until Tink was standing before Emma with her hands on her hips.

“Who ever said I didn’t like you?”

Emma shrugged before taking a bite of her eggs. “Ariel and I talk daily, and when Tiger Lily isn’t too busy, she and I chat in the gardens, but you and I . . . “ She trailed off, arching her brows at the blonde fairy.

Tink huffed and plopped down in the chair next to her. She picked up a scone and nibbled at it. “It’s not you, Princess, it’s me.”

Emma waved her hand in the air as she chewed and swallowed her own bite of scone. “I already told the others, no Princess, no your highness, just Emma.”

Tink ducked her head as she gave her a shy smile. “Okay, Emma.” She continued nibbling at the scone, gazing out of the windows as a blush stained her cheeks.

“Are you in love with my husband?”

“No!” Tink shouted, dropping her scone with a clatter onto the breakfast china. “I mean, that is to say, well . . . I would say it was more a crush than love, and I’m over it. Way, WAY over it.”

Emma laughed even as Tinkerbell seemed to shrink farther in on herself. “It’s okay, Tink, really.”

“You mean it?” Tink asked hopefully.

“Absolutely. I only have three friends in this castle during daylight hours, so it would be silly for you to avoid me.”

“True,” Tink said with a cautious smile, “and Killian never saw me that way, really. It was just a stupid crush. He always only saw me as a little sister type.”

Emma cocked her head at Tink as she continued her breakfast. “Does this have anything to do with you being banished and almost losing your wings?”

“Yes,” Tink admitted, sinking lower in her chair. Emma smiled at how childlike and innocent Tink was, especially in comparison to Tiger Lily and Ariel. “Killian felt responsible I guess, though he didn’t do anything wrong. He intervened, and here I am.”

“Tink,” Emma asked hesitantly, “is Killian a fairy too?”

Tink dissolved into giggles, almost choking on her scone. “Heavens, no! Whatever made you think that?”

“Well, he seems to be heavily involved with the fairies, and last night . . . “ Emma shifted uncomfortably, but then decided to come right out and say it, no matter what conclusions Tink jumped to, “last night I noticed his ears are a little pointed.”

“Excuse me, fairies do NOT have pointed ears,” Tink shoved aside her blonde locks to show her perfectly rounded ears to Emma, “you’re thinking of elves.”

“Okay, is he an elf then?”

Tink shook her head as she spooned some eggs onto her plate.

“A nymph?”

Tink rolled her eyes. “Nymphs are all female.”

“Hmm,” Emma slouched in her chair, but she refused to give up. Her husband helped not only fairies but a woman in an unhappy marriage. He had experience with nymphs, had a demanding mother, and an absent but powerful father. His childhood had lacked nothing of material possessions, and he lived in an enchanted castle surrounded by enchanted gardens. He obviously possessed magic himself, considering how the darkness he enveloped himself with when he visited her wasn’t of the natural variety.

“Don’t even try to figure him out,” Tink said around a mouthful of eggs. She swallowed and wiped her lips with one of the linen napkins. “He’ll reveal all to you, but not until the time is right.”

“And when will that be?”

“When he knows you are safe.”

“From whom?” Emma bit out in frustration, but the fairy had already miniaturized and flitted away.

********************************************************

For the first time since her arrival, the weather kept Emma confined to the castle. She spent the morning exploring several of the rooms, many of which contained gorgeous paintings and lifelike statues of incredible beauty. Killian obviously had impeccable taste. Emma also wondered if some of the art were gifts from those he had helped.

After lunch, the storm had abated, though rain still poured from the sky, so Emma went to the castle library. She had been there previously to find novels to read as she enjoyed the gardens. Today, the room’s large fireplace had been lit to ward off the chill of the rain. Emma selected a book and went to sit in one of the window seats flanking the fireplace where she would have more light to read.

The minutes ticked by, and as they did, the rain tapered off. Emma grew drowsy from the light, trickling sound of the rainfall combined with the warmth of the room. Soon the words were blurring on the page and her head was nodding. She laid the book aside and looked instead out of the window

The dark clouds of the storm were being banished by warm rays of sunshine. Here on the second floor of the castle, Emma had a wonderful view of the grounds. As the clouds parted further to reveal a glittering rainbow, Emma leaned her forehead against the pane of glass, squinting to be sure she was seeing clearly. With a gasp she jumped from the window seat and hurried over to the one on the other side of the fireplace. She saw the same thing there on the borders of the castle grounds. The same thing she had run up against on her first day here: a wall of thick fog.

Emma left her novel abandoned in the library to race up and down the hallways, looking out of every window she could find. She climbed all the way up to the battlements on the top floor where she had a 365 degree view. She raced from one casement to the next, breathless and trembling. Every vista she took in proved it: the wall of fog completely surrounded her new home.

******************************************************

Emma expected to feel defensive and angry when Killian came to her that night. She had thought that she would demand answers immediately. Instead, a request fell from her lips.

“Sit next to me?”

Emma’s hand searched for his in the dark emptiness around her, and when his fingers

found hers, warmth spread from the contact all the way down her arm. She slid over to make room for him, keeping a firm hold on his hand. Once they were both settled, Killian rested their joined hands on the mattress between them, and Emma threaded her fingers with his.

“Something is bothering you,” he observed.

“Is the barrier surrounding your home to keep me from leaving?”

Killian shifted towards her, drawing their joined hands up to his bare chest. “Emma, my love, this is your home now too. Not only that, the moment you set foot in that fog, you would find yourself on the same mountaintop where your parents left you.”

“Then why is it there?”

“To shield my castle. It isn’t safe for certain . . . individuals to know where it is.”

“That’s why I couldn’t see it at first when I arrived?”

“Aye.”

Killian lowered their hands back to the mattress and situated himself next to her. Emma wet her lips as she thought.

“So I don’t have to stay here? I could leave?”

Killian was silent for a moment, and based upon the way his thumb was brushing her knuckles, Emma was fairly certain he was pondering how to answer.

“Just as you came to that mountaintop of your own free will, you can choose to stay or leave.”

“I sense a but following that statement,” Emma told him wryly.

“Unfortunately. The oracle was being truthful when she said the plague in your kingdom wouldn’t stop unless you gave yourself up to the creature on the mountain.”

It was Emma’s turn to fall silent. She clearly remembered the oracle’s cryptic and devastating words when she and her father had gone to her in desperation. Killian’s words now were exactly the same. The oracle had said: “Princess Emma must give herself up to the creature on the mountain, dressed in her wedding gown. Her sacrifice shall end the plague.” Emma and her parents had assumed that meant her death at the monster’s hands. Only now could she see the alternate interpretation of those words.

Like the true princess that she was, Emma lengthened her spine and lifted her chin. “Then I shall stay.”

“My dear Emma,” Killian breathed as he pressed kisses to her hand, “I hope desperately that someday you will want to stay because this is your home.”

Emma blinked back sudden tears. “My family thinks I’m dead.”

“And so, thankfully, does your mortal enemy.”

His words were like ice spreading through her veins. “What enemy?”

“I cannot yet say,” Killian said, and in his voice she heard regret, “but please believe me, love, I am doing all I can to make things right. It is my hope that one day we can lower our defense, throw open the gates, and welcome your family to visit here. But until that day comes, I need you to try something new.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned closer and she could feel his warm breath caressing the curls that brushed her cheeks.

“It’s called trust.”

*************************************************************

Killian’s new place was beside Emma in the bed, his hand clasped in hers. Over time, Emma drew closer to his side and eventually lifted his arm over her head so he could pull her against him. Then she began tucking her head into the crook of his neck as they talked, his fingertips drawing circles absently on her bare shoulder. As their nights together came and went, Emma became so comfortable in his presence that she began drifting off in his arms as they sat propped against the headboard. She would awaken to find herself tucked in beneath the sheets, and a contented smile would fill her face.

One night, she was being pulled under by sleep when she heard Killian whisper against her hair. “Emma? Emma, love, are you asleep?”

Part of her wanted to answer him, to enjoy his company a bit longer, but she was already too close to the edge of sleep to form words. He gently lowered her to the pillow and pulled the sheets and blankets up to her chin. He stroked her hair, and though Emma felt a bit dishonest pretending to already be fully asleep, she also relished in experiencing his tenderness first hand. Then he began to speak, and a delicious feeling swooped low in her core.

“I will win your heart, Emma. And when I win it, it won’t be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.”

He brushed a kiss to her forehead, and the feel of his lips against her skin sent tingles down to the tips of her toes. He left her then, but his words lingered in her dreams.

******************************************************

“You never answered my question, love.”

“Hmm?”

Killian’s answering chuckle reverberated through his chest and against Emma’s shoulder. “I asked how your day was.”

“Oh,” she murmured, still distracted. She turned in his embrace to have a better angle with which to run her fingers through his chest hair. She nuzzled her nose against his neck, and Killian responded with a groan.

“What was my question again?” he muttered into her hair as his lips trailed along her temple.

Now Emma laughed. “You asked about my day.” She trailed her hand up over his shoulder blade and ran it down his bicep. “But it’s a dull topic I’m afraid. I’d much rather hear what realms you traveled to today.”

Killian said he couldn’t tell her what he did all day, but he gladly told her where he had been. He told her about the frozen fjords of Arendelle, the cardamom cluttered stalls of Agrabah where the wind smelled of spice, and the sparkling Emerald City of Oz that was so bright, visitors had to wear special glasses. Emma, who had never traveled farther than neighboring Camelot, drank in his descriptions eagerly.

Tonight, however, Emma cared nothing of dazzling cities or mystical lands of magic and sand. Killian’s voice, she had come to realize, was husky and provocative. It had ignited her senses every night, but at the moment she wanted more than his voice. Her hands explored his chest, his collarbone, his neck, but even that wasn’t enough. With the tips of her fingers, she touched his lips, so soft, so inviting.

“I’ve lost my train of thought again.”

His voice was low, undone. His lips moving beneath her fingers made something coil tightly in her belly. She shifted closer, the only thing between her breasts and his bare chest the thin fabric of her nightgown.

“Kiss me.” She hadn’t meant it to sound like a command, but the low and ragged tone of her voice made it sound that way.

“Emma,” he breathed, and his heart beneath her palm beat rapidly as he bent his head towards her.

Killian’s lips met hers tentatively, reverently, but she was having none of it. She grasped the back of his head with one hand, burying her fingers in his hair and practically bruising his lips with the force of her reciprocity. She opened for him willingly and mewled into his mouth as his tongue explored and drank her in. Her other hand cupped his jaw, scratching his stubble with her fingernails.

Killian’s hands circled her waist tightly, pulling her flush against him, and his fingers danced up her back, leaving fire in their wake. Leaving one hand splayed across the middle of her back, his other threaded through her hair. When they finally parted, they were both out of breath, and Emma’s lips were swollen and wet.

“That was . . . “ Killian breathed, and Emma didn’t blame him for being at a loss for words. She was just as wrecked.

Emma brushed her lips against him again, but in the darkness she missed and only grazed the corner of his mouth. His lips were tipped up in a smile.

“My day,” Emma breathed as she nuzzled against his jaw, “was nothing of consequence until now.”

Killian chuckled, tucking her against him and wrapping his arms tightly around her. “Aye, love, your kisses are far more intoxicating than any exotic realm I have ever visited.”

[writingmylove]

Disney Prince

I went to Disneyland and got all the feels and go figure had to write about it so here's a fluffy, cheesy and cliche Bucky piece for you all to enjoy

Xxx

You lounged on the sofa in the main room of the latest Avengers facility. You were undeniably bored as you waited with the other Avengers, all of you here for Tony’s newest announcement. You weren’t the only one looking about ready to leave, Nat and Wanda were each sprawled individually on the two armchairs both supporting looks of utter impatience and Steve, I was pretty sure, had read the same page of his book for the past 10 minutes. Bruce was still in the labs, unlikely to actually come up to join the rest of us and Thor was currently trying to work the coffee machine in the adjoined kitchen.

Bucky, the main light of your life, was sat with your head in his lap as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair. His metal hand was nothing worrisome to you, although you had spent considerable time in the early stages of your relationship making sure his metal hand was held, used to touch you and encouraging its proximity to you. It was rare now that it was an issue between you, granted he had his moments of panic, but you were quick to rectify them and comfort him.

Just as you were about to get up and go find him, Tony strolled into the room seemingly in no rush and with a coy expression detailing his face. You let out a loud groan as you saw him.

“About time!” You cried. “Next time you call a meeting please do try to attend on time yourself.”

Tony just shot you a look of contempt as you felt Bucky’s chest vibrate from his chuckles and your ears caught Nat’s sniggers from across the room.

“Tony, what is this about?” Steve questioned his friend, a blonde eyebrow raised quizzically, and his book long forgotten.

“As you all know, Pepper has been working very hard on the PR for the Avengers and that includes merchandising and the like.”

The group of us nodded and warily exchanged glances around the room wondering where this could possibly be going.

“I thought you might all want to know that the rights to provide the merchandise for our motley crew have been agreed to be held by The Walt Disney Company. They will be providing clothing, costumes, toys. You name it they’ll make it.”

There were murmurs of acceptance and agreement at Tony’s words. You weren’t too surprised. Disney did of course have a large fanbase and would provide a family friendly feel to a group of superheroes who had caused a few near disasters.

“Does this mean Steve will be a Disney prince now?” You piped up from your place on the sofa, eyes glinting as Steve turned his incredibly unimpressed look on you.

Wanda let out a large laugh at your words and was quickly joined by the rest of us. Steve rolled his eyes good naturedly before pointing a finger at you mockingly.

“You most definitely will not be a Disney princess y/n. That I do know”

You held a hand to your chest in fake pain. Bucky laughed at your theatrics and leaned down towards your ear.

“You’ll be a princess to me, doll.”

Shifting your position, you glanced up at him, his blue eyes meeting yours and your heart jumped lightly.

“This makes you a Disney prince too, Buck.”

Bucky shook his head slightly, a soft smile on his face as he stared down at you.

“I’m not really prince material.”

He removed his gaze, lifting it to look back up at Tony and the others who had continued their own conversations. You frowned at his comment. Your heart ached for him and the pain his past continuously put him through. While the programming Hydra had forced into his mind had been removed, the memories of his time with them remained and left its mark.

“y/n,” Your head turned towards your name to see Tony glancing at you. “Were you listening to a word I said?” You grinned sheepishly at his words and shook your head.

He let out an exasperated sigh before handing his Stark pad to you. Taking the device in your hands and sitting up properly you looked intensely at the screen.

“Disney request that some of you attend their park in Orlando as part of the new working relationship between the themselves and us. A bit of promotion if you will.”

“Yes!” You jumped up as you yelled out fist in the air and a large grin across your face.

The sound of your yell caused a few of those around you to jump at the sudden noise. You felt your cheeks heat up slightly and you lowered yourself back down into your seat thoroughly embarrassed.

“I mean, yeah sure. I’ll go.”

Steve was smiling widely at you from his seat. You were like a sister to him and to see you act like a child in that very moment was rather endearing to him.

“Count me in too.” The blonde raised his hand and verified his words of acceptance to the offer.

Wanda and Nat also agreed, albeit the latter rather reluctantly. It was a rather public thing for her to be doing and the spy in her was uncomfortable at the prospect, despite her identity having been common knowledge for a few years now.

Bucky remained silent throughout the exchange, watching you as his thoughts ran a mile a minute.

“Bucky,” Noticing his silence and guessing his thought process, you turned to him and took his hands in yours. “Please come with us. I really want you to come with me.”

The true delight at the prospect of him coming with you shone on your face, your h/c hair framed your face and your eyes were wide with excitement. You looked so beautiful and he knew in that moment he could not say no to you. Returning your smile, he nodded his agreement to attend Disney World with the rest of you.

A few weeks later the five of you had boarded Tony’s jet and arrived at Disney World, Orlando. You were bouncing on the balls of your feet in excitement. You loved Disney. It didn’t matter how old you were, you would always be happy here.

Wanda stood next to you, equally as excited having not been before but enjoyed many of the films she had seen and she was very determined to meet Mickey. Steve and Nat stood to one side, heads together as they spoke. It was likely about a mission, but you could honestly care less right at this moment.

You linked your arm with your boyfriends. His body was tense, and he was glancing all around looking a little bit like a deer in headlights upon seeing all the people and families arriving.

You ran your hand up and down his arm in an effort of comfort and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. The five of you were surprised to find out that you were simply allowed to visit the park. There was no parade of you all, or big announcement. You were to enjoy your day out, speak with the public, explain why you were there and take any pictures requested but overall you were free to roam the park as you all pleased.

Un-hooking you arm you grabbed Bucky’s hand in your own and made your way towards the park’s entrance, tugging the large male behind you.

“C’mon Buck, I wanna go see Cinderella’s castle!”

Grinning at your words, Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle as you pulled him along behind you, a pair of Mickey Mouse ears adorning your head and you looked adorable. He was rather content with being pulled around by you today, perfectly happy watching you.

“Doll, the park has only just opened, and we have fast pass tickets. I think we have time.”

You rolled you eyes at him and called to Steve.

“Prince Rogers, hurry that ass up! We do not have all day.”

Steve met Nat’s glance before jogging over to you. Pulling you from Bucky’s grasp he threw you over his shoulder as he continued to run towards the entrance. Your laugh echoed behind you both and Wanda shrugged at Bucky and Nat before following you both at a fast pace.

“Hey, y/n promised to be my tour guide. Not yours.” And, knowing you were supposed to make yourselves a little bit obvious to the public, used her powers to remove you from Steve’s grasp and place you on the ground next to her. At the red magic swirling through the air many heads from members of the public turned towards you all. The whispers began and you knew it wouldn’t be long before they all began to approach.

With a smug grin plastered on her face, you and her ran through the gates and onto Main Street.

“Woah.”

Wanda’s awe was just the reaction you had hoped for and you squealed in happiness and you pulled her into a large side hug as you both looked at the castle. She pulled out her phone and snapped a couple of pictures before shoving it back into her coat pocket.

You both waited patiently for the others to make their way to you and then the real fun could begin.

You all spent the day moving around the park, splitting up at different intervals to go on different rides or simply because a member of the public had stopped one of you.

Bucky stayed close to your side the whole time, his vice grip on your hand as he watched the public approach the group. Steve had to stop the most to sign things and take pictures and Bucky could almost picture him doing the same thing back in the 1940’s after his shows and he held to hold back a smirk at his friend.

You had been stopped several times also. While being a fairly new Avenger your ability to manipulate the earth was rather impressive. You adored the children who approached you timidly, being encouraged by their parents. Crouching down to their level you would hold your palm to the ground and produce little shapes out of the stones and pass them to the child in front of you. The little cries of joy made your heart squeeze and you happily returned every hug you got in return.

Watching you with the children was a lovely sight for Bucky. You glowed with happiness as you turned to smile at him every single time it happened.

“Bucky!” The sound of your call had him immediately looking for you, his instinct to protect you kicking in and his heart racing. Seeing you stood a few meters away with a small boy next to you had him breathing a sigh of relief and he made his way over to you at your gesture.

“Buck, this here is William. Say hi to Bucky, Will.”

William could not have been older than 6 and he glanced up at Bucky with wide green eyes.

“William was just telling me that his favourite Avenger was the Winter Solider.” Your smile reached your eyes as you took in your burly boyfriend looking so shocked.

With your eyes gestured for Bucky to crouch down next to William. Slowly, he did so and faced the small boy.

“Is that true?” The words tumbled out of Bucky’s mouth before he could stop them.

In utter awe that Bucky was talking to him, William nodded his head enthusiastically and found his voice.

“Yeah! He’s the coolest.” William glanced at Bucky. “He has a metal arm.”

The boy’s parents were stood closely to you three. His dad looked towards Bucky.

“William has a prosthetic leg, he lost it in a car crash a few years ago.” The pain in the words hit Bucky in the chest and he turned back towards the boy, moving his left arm into view.

Upon realising who he was stood with, William did not hesitate to throw his arms around the larger man. Returning the hug hesitantly he glanced up at you to see small tears welling in your eyes.

You were so happy to watch the scene in front of you. Sure, Bucky had been approached by a few people but not nearly as much as the rest of the group in attendance and you saw how it affected him that people were still weary. This little boy held no fear towards him.

You both spoke with William and his parent’s a little longer before bidding them goodbye and moving to meet the rest of the group at the front of the castle in time for the illuminations show.

“He was a sweet boy.” You casually commented.

Bucky glanced down at you. “He was wasn’t he. I never thought of myself as being a role model to children like him. He made me wonder if there were more like him.”

You nodded at his words.

“I think I might visit the children’s hospital. See if I can help any children like him.”

Your head lifted sharply at his words. A large grin covered your face and you pulled him into a deep kiss there and then. Placing his arms around your waist Bucky happily returned the gesture.

Pulling apart and slightly out of breath you whispered up at him. “I think that is a great idea Buck. You are more loved by them than you think.”

A small kiss was placed on your forehead as you approached the others.

Wanda darted forward towards you and pulled you away to speak with her prattling on about how her, Steve and Nat went in to the studios park and met Stormtroopers. Bucky moved to stand by Steve and the two watched as the three women chatted away and discussed their day.

A loud announcement over the speakers signifying that it was 5 minutes until the show had Bucky pulling away from his conversation with Steve and stepping towards you, pulling your body to his chest and you all turned to face the castle.

You were nearly in tears as you watched the illuminations show. It was so wonderfully done and so beautiful to watch with the combination of the projection, fireworks and music. Plus being in the arms of your boyfriend did make things even better.

You turned to shoot Bucky a quick smile before returning to watch the show.

Bucky glanced down at you. The fireworks were lighting up your face and Can you feel the love tonight echoed around the park. Bucky felt his breath leave him as a single thought crossed his mind as he watched you.

He loved you.

That was it. He loved you. You never made him feel different, you encouraged him to be himself and accept the support of those around him. You helped him to see things he didn’t think were there and you made him so undeniably happy. He couldn’t imagine life without you.

“I love you.”

The words fell from his lips like water, brushing against your ear as he leant forward towards you. You jolted in his arms and spun to face him. Your eyes were wide and your hair a slight mess from the wind but in that moment with your cheeks flushed you were perfect.

“What did you say?”

Placing his hands on either side of your face he pulled you towards him.

“I said, I love you.”

Your lips parted in shock. Your heart was racing like a jackhammer as the words registered in your mind before you threw yourself into his arms, burying your head into his shoulder very briefly. Pulling away you paused at his ear and whispered right back.

“I love you too.”

Bucky felt like he could fly hearing you say you loved him back and he kissed you just as a large display of fireworks set off behind you. Neither of you noticed the large grins adorning your friends faces as they witnessed the display of love between you both.

Pulling away, you giggled lightly and pressed one more kiss to Bucky’s lips before turning to watch the rest of the show.

As the show ended and people turned to leave you pulled away from Bucky to move with Nat and Wanda who immediately began light teasing at your very public display.

Steve clapped his old friend on the back.

“Congrats, pal.” Bucky’s returning grin was infectious and he pulled Steve into a quick hug before they followed you three out of the park.

Piling in to a black car that was parked waiting for them you snuggled up to Bucky’s side, the adrenaline from the day leaving your body and you quickly began to feel sleepy.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“Can I go meet a Stormtrooper tomorrow?” Your sleepy mumbled request made him smile and he agreed that you could go and meet a Stormtrooper.

Nodding and half asleep you managed a final few muffled words before you let sleep overtake you.

“You’re my Disney prince, Buck.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your hair.

“You’re my princess, y/n.”

[dwightgmitchell-blog]

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[my-love-peterp]

Mistaken Chapter Seven

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST DROP ME AN ASK

please like and rb/comment <3

Word Count: 4268

THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: So this is definitely a chapter on my list of necessary revisions HOWEVER,  I’m writing one from some other characters POV just to shed some extra light on the circumstances surrounding what happens in this chapter. I think for sure we’ll get some Tony vignettes and maybe Steve and Darcy as well, just assessing Kaida and Tony and their states of mind (fragile, not great) and get into some motivating factors. Also, I know it’s a long time in coming but the big bad is coming soon. It’s not just Kaida vs herself as the main conflict in this piece. 

Warnings: drinking, smut, the like

Chapter One   Chapter Two   Chapter Three   Chapter Four   Chapter Five Chapter Six

The next day, I was reading the next book on my to be read list when Peter came screeching into the common room. “Cranewood!!” He practically shrieked as he ran, hips first into the back of the couch I was lounging one. He miscalculated his own speed and toppled over the back, faceplanting right into my lap.

“Oh my god, oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t-oh, Jesus, I’m so sorry I just totally invaded your personal space and literally put my face there and oh my god.” He cut his own self off and blushed so deep, the tips of his ears almost flowed red. Peter licked himself back up and adjusted his blue sweatshirt before running his hands through the hair on the back of his neck and refusing to make eye contact with me.

“Peter?”

“Y-yeah what’s up Kaida,” he managed to squeak out before coughing and clearing his throat, lowering his voice to compensate. I just stared back at him expectantly, dog-earring my page before slamming the book shut between my thighs. He blinked twice before shifting uncomfortably between feet. I swear, for an adult man, this boy sure acted like a gawky sophomore a lot.

“Oh. Oh yeah!!! We’ve met before. Cranewood School for Girls. Technically you and Spider-Man met but... I’m hurt that you were never even going to mention the first time I saved your life. What’s up with that? And also how did a Hydra ghost end up on Long Island at an elite prep school for upstanding young women and-“ I tuned him out unconsciously.

In truth, I had completely forgotten my run in with Spider-Man when I was 13. My sister and I were much too busy then still readjusting to a normal lifestyle we’d never had and covering our tracks while breaking enough laws to provide for ourselves, day in and day out.

Nadia had laundered enough money that We had more than enough for a down payment on a small apartment in the Long Island area and I was proficient enough in my mimicry and illusion work that we were able to enroll in school with a late start due to our “parents” and their extremely generous donations. It certainly helped that Nadia and I were both whip-smart.

I remembered the day Spidey was talking about. Some jack booted Hydra thug had stormed the grounds and held my class hostage, because his primary target, Anna, who was the daughter of a senator, was my classmate. Luckily, she sat about as far away from me as popular so the Agent was never able to see my face. I didn’t realize the whole upset was over until I had felt a large hand rubbing my back.

Of course, it was Spider-Man that came to my rescue. That day seemed to repeat itself over and over with no end sight. Of course, he was comforting me. His super hearing was the first power I’d ever assimilated by accident. We should test that more in the lab.

As I opened my mouth to finally suggest a battery of tests to Peter, FRIDAY started shouting instructions to be heard over the loud clang of the emergency bell.

Science could wait.

A few months later

The alarm cut through my concentration. It turned out to be just a bigger Code Green false alarm. We’d had two in the last week. I’m not blaming it on any specific individuals but there’s was something to be said in the 200% uptick in near Code Green’s since Dr. Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis, intern and mechanical engineer extraordinaire returned from Reykjavik. But who was I to complain? After the relocated to the Tower back in May, just three months ago, there were more Strawberry pop tarts in the pantries than I’d ever seen before in my life. And it was so relieving to have another ‘devil may care’ woman around the Tower.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Natasha for all that she is but she’s just a teacher to me. And Wanda read as more of a mom friend in my mind. Darcy is the kind of girl you make up desperate housewives drinking games with. We gravitated toward each other immediately, bonding over baking, needling Tony, and then bemoaning the lack of clubbing appropriate company. She also held no judgment for me about my past, which I couldn’t believe until I saw her and Bucky making googly eyes at each other from across the room, then it all clicked.

Darcy Lewis had become my best friend, big sister and closest confidant and just a week’s time. Now, a few months later, there were still no hydra threats and my probation was set to be lifted this evening. “The perfect time to go clubbing “ Darcy had declared it, before enlisting my strengths to remove, forcibly if necessary, the science squad from their labs. And then to force them out into the world of the living. The only member to straight up refuse was Tony, as was expected. We had been… Cordial to one another but never anything more. I am nearly positive he had Friday keep tabs on my location just so he could avoid me at all times. Inevitably, we would run into each other Coming and going from our quarters or as we made our way to and from our designated lab spaces. I still didn’t quite understand why Tony lived on the same floor as the rest of the Avengers when I knew damn well he had his own penthouse in the tower.

Anyways, my lab was certainly something to behold. The calling it my lab was a bit of a stretch considering I didn’t build anything really, I just tested my powers and checked my biological markers with gadgets that Tony, Bruce, and Dr. Helen Cho had come up with together. We were still waiting for a contact from a group called the guardians who would potential he be able to determine what part alien I am. But it was the world’s most high tech library/relaxation room/artist’s studio. All to make remaining in it all day for the sake of data aggregation tenable.

To say I was bored out of my mind at first was an understatement. But over time I began to have visitors. Darcy was a daily, and surprisingly, so was Pietro. Peter and Bucky also visited, if less frequently. And, oddly enough, Vision was there almost all the time. I asked him about it once and he shrugged (how does a former AI program shrug so effectively) and simply stated that my presence combed his mind. Whatever that meant.

In any case, I wasn’t as bored or lonely anymore. In fact, I could almost swear that something was developing between Pietro and I.

Earlier this week, as I was doing the Times word search and also project in my powers to deflect incoming projectiles, my hair was flipped up and into my face, causing my concentration to skip which led to a tennis ball smacking me right in the face. Above me, Pietro burst out laughing and DUM-E beeped apologetically.

“I don’t think I can forgive you for this,“ I deadpanned, reaching back to jab him in the kidney, which he promptly dodged, all the while still cackling. When his laughing fit finally subsided, he stood back up straight.

“I have an idea, “he announced proudly.

“Stop the presses everyone, and called the Vatican, Speedy here has an idea. It must be a miracle. First one in a decade. The world must be ending,” I replied, looking at him and trying not to smirk. I will give him props because the obscene shocked and hurt that filled his face moments later was almost convincing. He chuckled and moved to sit on the stool next to me. He said nothing, only staring at me.

“Okay Zippy, what was your big idea?”

“You haven’t tested your instinctual and biological responses enough. For example, the fight or flight instinct is recreated too imperfectly in simulated situations to be of any use to you. However, there is another way around that beyond throwing yourself into open combat.” I tilted my head, waiting for him to continue. He leaned forward placing his hands on my side and leaning closer. Hesitant but not opposed, my eyes fluttered chat. Instead of kissing me as I had assumed (hoped!) was his plan, I felt his lips brush against the shell of my ear. I shattered at the sensation, anticipating.

“I have a question “, he whispered. I mumbled my acknowledgment and it took me a few seconds to process what he had said and by that time it was already too late. “ are you ticklish,” he had whisper gently. Now he was mercilessly attacking my side with one, extremely quick fingers, whenever I moved to try to escape, he was there.

I collapsed to the ground, giggling breathlessly before I cut myself and put on my grumpy face. Pietro smiled lazily and shifted so his knees were on either side of my thighs.

“ if you tickle me again, I’ll scream,” I warned him.

“ I bet I could have you screaming my name,” he replied cheesily.

“ I actually hate you right now. I’m considering making you my official arch nemesis. I might make T-shirts. And badges. Definitely badges.”

“Who’s making badges? Didn’t you know nemesis badges are so last season? This is why you should consult the great and powerful Darcy on all things,” came the snarky voice of my best friend from the lab door. I urgently pushed Pietro up and off of me. But as was the theme of the day, I was seconds too late, and Darcy saw us in a position that looked extremely compromising without context.

She raised her eyebrows at me, cheeks twitching as she managed, for once, to hold back whatever retort she thought of once she saw me beneath Pietro. Instead, she readjusted herself and offered me a hand to pick me up off of the slightly dusty floor. I made a mental note to give DUM-E the Swiffer tonight.

After I was back on my feet and thoroughly dusted off, Darcy approached the silver-haired man who was currently leaning against one of my shoulder high bookshelves, jabbing her finger into his sternum. “You hurt my sister and I know an Asgardian who can make your life a living hell. And no, I’m not talking about Thor. Plus, you should be scared of me, I’ve bested him in combat once before and I can certainly take you. So watch yourself Maximoff,” she growled before stomping away, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me along behind her. “We’ve talked about this,” she hissed at me after her suite door slammed behind us. She’d been silent the entire elevator ride down to her floor. I loved Darcy but she was still a little paranoid about FRIDAY always being present and listening in.

“Darcy it wasn’t like that, he... tickled me?”

She snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, I bet he did. Looked like he wanted to do a lot more from where I was standing kid. I’m telling you he’s bad news. What do you see in him anyway?”

I scoffed at her insinuation that somehow, Pietro would be the rotten one between us. “Dee I was literally sleeping with Tony Stark a few months ago while I had intimate knowledge of his fiancés fate. Plus I’m not exactly innocent in literally any sense if the word...” I trailed off but she just glared at me, which was her way of telling me that we weren’t leaving until I answered all of her questions.

I sighed and plopped myself down on her cozy armchair, putting my feet up. “It’s just... he’s easy to be around Darcy. It’s not hard, I don’t have to think about anything twice, there’s no pressure. He’s funny, makes me smile, puts up with my shit. And he doesn’t want more from me than I’m willing to give. We’re as easy as breathing.” I blinked, shocked at the words that had just come out of my mouth. Sure, I would admit to having a crush on the guy, he was hot and snarky. I loved that. Wait, love? I really was losing my mind.

“You know what, forget anything I just said. Let’s go out clubbing like you suggested and find me a man to get under for the night. I have to blow off some steam. I’m delusional and sappy over here.”

Darcy shrugged, noncommittally. “What?!” I demanded, confused as all hell.

“If you really feel that way about him, you should tell him. He may not be pushing you to give more than you’re ready for, but is he going to be prepared to give you everything you want, or is he just here for the safe convenience of it Kaida? You two have been prancing around each other like orphaned fawns, afraid to let yourselves get hurt and calling it sacrifice for the other. Or maybe he just doesn’t care and wants to play dirty because you’re available and convenient. “

I was a little hurt at her words but I could see the truth behind them. It was time Pietro and I had a chat. But not before I went out and had fun with my best friend. I relayed that thought to Darcy who excitedly squealed as we plotted to get the Science Squad out and about with us.

That brings us to now. Several of us piling into the biggest limo I’d ever seen. Bruce, Jane, Nat, Clint, Thor, Wanda, Pietro, Sam, Helen, the super soldiers, and even Peter had elected to join Darcy and I out tonight. It was certainly going to be one for the history books.

Smushed as we were in the back of the vehicle, it was oddly calming. For the first time today I felt as though I had time to just think for myself. I brushed my hand along my inner left forearm and shivered as a chill climbed down my spine. The perfectly raised but horrifically off-kilter writing simply read ‘cereal?’ today. Not much to go on if I were actively looking for my soulmate. Not that I would.

Whatever being it was that decided that two halves, or sometimes thirds or fourths of the same soul, would be imprinted with the first and last words their counterparts said for that day, was a complete and total madman.

It wasn’t a whole lot to go off of. I knew they were older than me because I’d gotten the marking before I could speak and I was advanced for my age. I knew they were New Yorkers just by the way they’d mention certain places and things offhand.

But I wasn’t looking for them. It was fairly obvious to me, at that point, that becoming a fixture in my life was beneficial to absolutely no one. And, based on the blip of feeling or insight I’d get mentally from my soulmate bond, whoever they were had a strong sense of duty. Someone who felt duty bound to a person like me would only end up dead.

And yeah, maybe I was kidding myself and these were really just excuses to protect myself from losing more of the people I cared about but honestly who gave a fuck. There were millions of people in this city. What were the odds we’d even run into each other?

Too high. But there was nothing I could do about that.

And then, after what felt like hours, the car stopped and the group spilled out on to the sidewalk before scrambling to the door of the club, bypassing the line. It was one of the classier, more exclusive establishments in town but not too high brow to preclude any riff-raff.

Cue Darcy Lewis, the bane of all rationality. Darcy’s personality was that of an instigator. I, on the other hand, would never back down when challenged. That meant five tequila shots in five minutes in addition to getting three random numbers. Just for fun. A few shots later and Darcy hauled me on to the dance floor.

We writhed and twisted around each other, alternating between cackling at one another and concentrating on looking appealing and feeling sexy. Her hands roamed my body and rested on my hips as I playfully ground myself back into her.

I could see Natasha posted up in the corner, sipping a sea breeze and keeping her eyes open. Bruce stood a few feet away from her, nervously twitching but slugging back some whiskey. Clint was at the bar pounding back beers with Helen, Jane, Thor, and Sam. All seemed deeply invested in a manic take the Asgardian was telling, arms flailing and making weird shapes as he attempted to act out whichever feat of heroism was on tap for tonight. Wanda stood behind them but looked a little lost. That’s when I noticed that Pietro and Peter were both missing.

Peter was easy enough to find, he was perched next to the top of the stairs, keeping up surveillance of the entire place, the boy having no idea how to relax. I was about to mention Pietro’s absence to the brunette behind me when the wind rushed around me. Suddenly, I wasn’t on the dance floor with Darcy but back at the bar with Pietro.

“What the fuck dude,” I bit out, slapping his arm. “You can’t just speed someone without permission, it doesn’t work like that.” Pietro just shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. It was the kind of smile that got him off for everything. And now was no exception.

“But Kaida, you promised to show me what body shots were some day. I would like to do them now if that is okay. I still have not learned all of your silly American customs.”

I was just gone enough to nod eagerly while my body flushed hot. Body shot demonstrations were requested and so they would be done. We started simple, cleavage shots, I showed him with Darcy and then he practiced on me. His scruff scraped pleasantly against my overheated skin and I trembled. Then Darcy whispered salaciously in Pietro’s ear as I rested up against the bar. In a flash, Pietro‘s hands were squeezing around my hips and I was laying on top of the bar, shirt hiked up.

Tequila was poured and salt sprinkled around my Navel by Darcy freakin' Lewis, who, just hours earlier, had scolded both Pietro and I for our touching antics. But now, here she was, encouraging Pietro to haul me on to the bar. Before I could process that emotional whiplash, Pietro’s face was hovering over my stomach, a wicked smile filling his expression. I squirmed and he responded by dipping his head, using his tongue to swipe up the salt from my body before continuing down and sucking on my navel, slurping up all the tequila. My body was positively on fire. I opened my mouth in a breathless moan and nearly choked when my best friend shoved the rind of lime between my teeth. Her face was quickly replaced by Pietro’s. His eyes burned into mine, his pupils were blown, dark and hungry. He placed his mouth over mine, biting down surprisingly gently so lime juice with a hint of a taste that must be pure Pietro flooded my mouth. Icy fire burned through my veins as I completely forgot the discomfort of the hardwood bar pressing against my back. We were drawing closer and closer to each other as Pietro decisively removed the line from my mouth.

The trance was broken by a cough and a throat clearing. The Spiders Two, Peter and Natasha, were standing behind Pietro, arms crossed. Nat’s face was expressionless, but Peter‘s emotions were somewhat clear. He looked uncomfortable, annoyed and something else I couldn’t quite get a read on. My mouth fell open in a drunken grin, as I waved awkwardly to them, attempting to lift my head and slide off the bar and to my feet. Unfortunately, I was still more than a little boneless from the whole “Pietro‘s lips and tongue on my body“ situation, so, while I did manage to slide off the bar, landing on my feet and my high heels was a whole different story.

Long story short, I simply didn’t. Fortunately, when you’re friends with other enhanced people, their reflexes are typically pretty good. So I felt long, pale arms lock around my middle and stop me from falling. I grinned widely again at the feeling of thick ropey muscles encompassing me.

As I righted myself, the arms remained around me, hints of spicy cologne filling my nostrils when I slouched back into the warm body that stood behind me, closing my eyes and tilting my head back to nuzzle into Pietro’s neck. His breath caught and he let out a weirdly high pitched squeak in surprise.

“Oh shoot,” I stammered reflexively, looking down, “did I step on your foot or something? I know these heels can be a bitch.” It took me a minute to realize why what I was seeing felt so wrong. Instead of the tight black jeans Pietro had been wearing that night, my rescued had on dorky khakis and a blue button up. Peter.

“Fuck, Peter I didn’t know it was you, god damn I like almost assaulted you there. I’m so, so sorry. Jesus Christ, no more tequila for me ever.” I just kept rattling off apologies until he waved me away and Darcy took my arm to lead me out to a cab that was pulling up for us. It was time for me to go home, so Clint was being sent with me to supervise and make sure I made it back to the Tower in one piece and then he’d take one of Tony’s cars to drive back to his farmstead. “I’ve gotta take the kids to school tomorrow. Laura has a doctor’s appointment and I’m trying to be a good dad. You know, the whole nine yards. Or at least as good of a dad as a world-renowned assassin can be.” He ended up using the ride to babble on TL me about everything Nathaniel was getting up to at the moment and the big fiasco when he found out he was named after a girl and the killer meltdown when his parents rebuked him.

Clint deposited me in the elevator and hit my floor for me before he took off to the tunnel leading towards our parking garage. For the first fifth floors, everything was silent save for the occasional squeak of a gear or run of a pulley. Until the elevator stopped on one of the lab floors. I should have realized at that moment that all but one member of the Science Squad had been out that night, but it didn’t until I saw him step into the elevator beside me.

We stiffened simultaneously as Tony and I took the other in. Taking opposite corners, we studiously ignored each other as the elevator began moving. It was uncomfortable and deafeningly quiet, but that was probably more than I deserved. And then, as though whatever cosmic being had a direct line to my thoughts coupled with a sick sense of humor, the elevator froze, the lights went dark and an alarm started blaring, quickly followed by the emergency sprinkler system.

So to recap, I was trapped in a metal box, in the dark, being pelted with cold water, quite similar to what my parents used to do to Nadia and me.

It was at this moment that I had my worst panic attack to date. The sharp sense of panic cut down whatever buzz I had built up from the night before. Pure unadulterated terror flooded my chest as I collapsed to the floor, twitching. My chest heaved with silent sobs, my trauma reminding me that if I made a sound, Nadia would be punished and vice verse. Tears streamed down my cheeks and bile coated my throat. I could hear tony working frantically to desired the elevator panel and talking at me. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. It didn’t matter. I was too far gone.

Minutes, maybe hours passed. Before I could think clearly, I was entirely disassociated and then sleeping in a wet puddle on the floor of our stalled elevator.

When I woke up the next morning, I was in my own bed, drowning in an oversized hoody that I recognized as one I had stolen from Bucky weeks ago, that if I had to guess, he had originally stolen from Cap. It was royal blue number with a vintage style logo for the Brooklyn Dodgers, whose move was still a sore spot for Steve Rogers.

I sat up groggily, head pounding. As I finger combed my hair and stood to use my restroom, I heard gently snores coming from the plush sectional in my living room. Lo and behold, the Tony Stark was slumped over, not even under a blanket. The events of last night all came flooding back to me and I flushed a bright pink in embarrassment. I’d never shown just how deep that particular weakness ran for me. I turned back and tried to tiptoe out of the room and down to the communal floor for breakfast when Tony’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“I think it’s time we had a talk.”

TAGLIST: @peeterparkr @private-bucky-barnes @laurfangirl424 @bucktitybarnes

[cas-backwards-tie]

Happy To Volunteer

Steve Rogers x Reader (Single Parent AU)

Summary: As the class field trip approaches, you hope more parents will volunteer to chaperone. Thankfully, your hope is fulfilled when Steve Rogers signs up on the permission slip.

Prompt: Single Parent AU

Words: 2,086

Warnings: None.

Beta: @plaidstiel-wormstache  , who I want to thank for being so patient and helpful! She really took her time and honestly looked at every small detail. Thank you! 💖💖💖

Author’s Note: This is for @wxntersoldiers 3k writing challenge! I hope that you guys like it as this is actually my first time writing something for Steve.

Handing out the permission slips to your students, you watch their faces light up at the prospect of their upcoming field trip. “Don’t forget to get a signature from your parents by Thursday.” Reminding the students, you know they all want to go on the field trip this coming Friday. A smile quickly makes its way across your face as you help your students pack up for the day.  

“Does this mean we’ll get to see the tigers, Ms. Y/L/N?” Millie Rogers, a short girl with a mop of blonde hair and wide blue eyes, tugs on your skirt gently with a hopeful look on her adorable face.

You smile down at her sweet face, “Get your Mommy to sign this paper and it's a definite yes.” Knowing the trip will be hard to pull off without chaperones, you hope parents will read through the permission slips and volunteer. The PTA has a few members available, but a few more parents would be helpful. Watching Millie’s face fall, your brows furrow as you place a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Kneeling to her height, you listen intently.

“Mommy can’t sign it. I live with Daddy now.” Her words tumble out with disappointment instilled in each syllable. A huff of laughter escapes your nose. Looking at Millie with a happy smile, you encourage her.

“Your Daddy can sign it, Millie, you can still go if he does.”  You rub her shoulder for a second before standing again. “See you on Monday, kids!” Waving to the ones already leaving, you watch as the smile returns to Millie’s face, excited again. She mimics the roar of a Lion, fingers curling like claws as she attempts to scare a boy nearby her. This field trip will be fun, you think to yourself.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Walking into school on Monday, excitement bubbles in your heart as you get to see your students again. The weekend was rather quiet as the only thing you did was grade spelling tests. Before stopping at your classroom, you run by the office to make sure things are ready for your class’s field trip on Friday. Soon enough, you arrive at your classroom, prepping activities for the day.

After going over the day’s plans with the children, you leave them to color quietly for half an hour. The classroom filled with the sound of small hands rummaging through bins filled with the kids’ individual supplies. You waited patiently for everyone to be seated and asked them to get their permission slips out. Walking past each table, you collect the signed slips. The classroom fills with the sound of scribbling crayons against paper as you settle at your desk, scanning and sifting through all the forms, making sure they are signed; along with counting the boxes to see if any parents had volunteered to be chaperones.

Quietly sighing to yourself, you notice a handful of parents have volunteered to be chaperones. Grateful, there are now enough chaperones for the field trip. Looking at the top of one of the pages, you see Millie’s name scrawled in her handwriting. Smiling to yourself, your gaze drifts to her Father’s note:

Mrs. Y/L/N,

         The zoo sounds like a fun field trip! Hope you have room for one more? If so, please add me to the list, I’d be happy to help chaperone. Will lunch be provided for the chaperones?

                   Thanks,

                            -Steve Rogers (Millie's Dad)

Writing yourself a reminder on one of the sticky notes on your desk, you need to double-check on the lunches; adding on account of the new chaperones before you leave for the day. Hopeful that this field trip will go swimmingly, you look up at your quiet class, dutifully coloring in the sheets you’d given.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Soon enough Friday rolls around. It’s the perfect day for the zoo; sun shining brightly in the morning sky, clouds slowly float across the sky. Filing everyone off the bus, you ask the students to circle up in front of the zoo’s entrance.

“Okay class, we remember the rules, right?” With a joyful ‘yes’ from the majority, you split the kids into groups of five, calling them off by name, before assigning a parent. Four groups in total. Sending each chaperone off with their group, there is only one parent left behind.

Wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and navy windbreaker, his dirty blond hair short and tidy. You stare for a few seconds too long, you can't deny he’s quite handsome. The other parents are married or older, and you know from Millie's ramblings and creative work that he is recently divorced. It’s refreshing to see a new face for a change, a single one, at that. You decide to stick with Mr. Rogers considering he’s the only new chaperone.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” you attempt to joke, offering your hand. He takes it, shaking it lightly with a firm yet gentle grip. His gaze meets yours and you notice he has the softest blue eyes. The color reminds you of Robin eggs.

“Steve,” he speaks confidently with a nod of his head.

“Y/F/N. We'll join groups since it’s your first time chaperoning.” You said, before telling him the rules for the kids while you rounded them up and heading into the zoo. “Where should we start?” You ask the group in front of you. The chirping of ideas is loud and insistent, but you want to know what Steve thinks.

“I think we should start on this side so we can walk back this way,” Steve opens the map for you, illustrating his ideas. Nodding your head in agreement, your group’s path is set in motion as you shepherd the kids towards the right. Walking along the east side of the zoo, you’ll loop around to visit the west side briefly before making a circle back at the entrance.

Heading towards the lions and tigers, the first animals on the walk, you listen to the exclamations and murmurs of the kids while admiring the zoo’s layout. Your gaze occasionally drifts to Steve, making you shake your head once you realize you’re staring.

Approaching the viewing area of the ‘Big Cat Enclosure’, you gather the children in front of the floor-to-ceiling observation window, prompting them to point out the cats they can find. You lean against the railing while the children search for the African animals. Steve stands next to you, watching the group for a moment before speaking.“What’s your favorite animal?”

Shaking your head with a light chuckle, you respond, “I’d have to say, Bumblebee,” you silently hope he doesn’t judge your choice.

“That’s interesting. You know it’s an insect though, right?” A blush quickly sweeps across your cheeks at his comment. Smart and handsome, who knew? You think, watching the Lions roam about a good several feet below everyone, the kids squealing in excitement. You hush them, reminding them to use their quiet voices.

“I suppose technically, they are. What’s your favorite animal? What’re you most excited to see?” Awaiting Steve’s answer, he is interrupted right as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Daddy! Look!” Millie tugs on the edge of his jacket, practically jumping for joy as she pointed out the nearby Tigers. He sent a glance your way, you smile in response to be polite. It was cute, the way they interacted with one another; he didn’t undermine her excitement or try to get her to keep it held within. Crouching down to his daughter’s height, he points out two Tigers in the shallow pool playing with one another.

“Elephants have always amazed me,” Steve admits, catching your attention and bringing your focus back to him. He smiles your way and you know he wasn’t trying to ignore you.

Moving onto the Reptile House, the group continuously ‘ooh’ed and ‘aah’ed at every reptile, some of the girls grossed out. You found joy in asking your students to try and find the tiny tree frogs within their enclosure, camouflaged among the leaves. Arriving upon the insect area, you try to avert your gaze from the spiders, disliking them. Instead, focusing on the ladybugs and praying mantis’. “Maybe they’ll have a beehive here,” Steve suggested in a playful tone as he stood next to you, tilting his head while searching for the stick bug within the window in front of him. Smiling, you think he’s cute. “Ah! There he is.” Steve pointed out the stick bug to you, hand resting on your shoulder as he brought you closer to peer into the window. It’s fascinating, the slow, steady movements of the bug.

Nearing the exit of the Reptile House, you inform the group that it’s nearing lunch time. “We should pick a spot,” you suggested to Steve while holding the door open for exiting students. Receiving a nod in response, you pull the map out of your pocket. “Nearby the elephants is a picnic area, it says.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Steve responds happily. Following after the last student out of the Reptile House, you gather your group before announcing where you’re headed next. Trekking back to the bus, you quickly have everyone grab their lunches out of your group’s bin. The quick walk to the picnic area was joyous as the children chattered about their favorite animals and which was ‘cooler’ or would win in a fight. Sitting near the garden bed, you smile at the panda mosaic tiled into the entrance. Sitting your lunch on the table, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Steve sitting across from you. “Is this seat taken?” He was obviously joking, you knew.

Laughing, you shake your head, inviting him to sit. “I’m afraid not. Looks like this is the grown-ups table,” you return his silly attitude before pulling your sandwich out, lying it on top of the brown paper bag. Chips, an apple, and milk are what’s in store. Opening the chip bag, you begin to quietly chomp on them while enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of the zoo.

“I brought you something!” Millie’s voice brings you back to the present as she hands her father a juice box. “Your favorite,” she spoke cheerily. The interaction made you smile, getting a glimpse of their world. Unwrapping the plastic surrounding your sandwich, you dig in.

The day passes much more quickly than you would’ve liked. Shepherding the kids onto the bus, you thank the other parents as they board. Stepping onto the bus last, you overhear the few people in front of you. “Can I sit with you?” It’s Millie’s hopeful voice.

A chuckle rings out, making your heart flutter knowing who it came from. “Mills, you should sit with your friends! You’re not gonna see them for the whole weekend.” Steve’s encouragement made you smile at the way he speaks with his daughter. Watching Millie swiftly agree and walk further back on the bus where her friends were indeed waiting, you look for a seat. Feeling someone’s hand catch your forearm, your brows furrow until you turn to see Steve with a wide grin on his face. “I saved you a seat,” he offered slyly.

“Oh, thank you.” Surprise laces your reply; a small smile makes its way onto your lips, blush coating your cheeks. Sitting beside him, you run your hands along your pants, smoothing them. “It was nice to have you as a chaperone,” you attempt small talk.

“Thanks for having me,” Steve chuckles as his face turns from the window to face you. His smiles seems to brighten his eyes. “I had a great time. Plus, a free lunch!” His face scrunches up for a moment, “well, really there is no such thing as a ‘free lunch’, but that’s beside the point,” he rambles. Noticing you still have his attention, Steve speaks up again. “Would you be open for getting coffee sometime? Or tea, if that’s your thing.”

Your heart flutters at his question. You can’t help but grin widely, nodding your head at his statement. “Yes, I’d love that,” you respond coyly. You weren’t expecting your day to go this way, and yet, you couldn’t help but feel like it was meant to be.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Little Talks and Mishaps [6]

Plot: AU Your neighbor summoned a demon as a dare, except he somehow overshot things and landed in your apartment. (Despite the lack of a pentagram.) He keeps showing up and oddly, he makes it a point to stop by after he’s done with her.

Rating: PG-13 (Language, implied sex, incubus mythology)

Characters: Incubus!RM x Female Reader, Meg OC, plus mention of other members.

Notes: I am not an expert on demonology. This was based off a comical dream I had about someone accidentally ending up in my apartment when in reality they were looking for someone else. (The figure in the dream wasn’t a demon per se but a rookie individual that wasn’t human who appeared in places without using the front door.) This a different universe from the one with Incubus!Jungkook – different complex, neighbor, and scenario. Some of the rules from the mythology I wrote in JJK’s series will appear here.

[5] | Epilogue [18+]

Your hands shook as you finished the pentagram on the floor (RIP cheap rug from IKEA) and began doing your final preparations to summon Namjoon. While Yoongi made the offer of dropping a suggestion to Namjoon of paying you a visit first, you insisted that you follow the regular steps and summon him like any human would. The former patiently answered all your questions you had for the process and watched as you scribbled notes for yourself, promising him you’d destroy them later to be safe.

You took a deep breath and double-checked to make sure you had everything in place before starting. Your eyes scanned over the pentagram and candles and you nodded in approval. Before you could consult the notes for what to say, you heard someone clearing their throat.

“Good evening Y/N, did you need me?” Namjoon asked as he rested his arms on the rug.

You tore your eyes from the notes to see the incubus half emerged from your rug, staring at you with an amused look.

“But, but I –”

“I think it’s better if we contacted each other like normal human beings do,” he replied with a knowing smile. He flattened his palms on the rug and slowly hoisted himself up, straightening up once he was out.

You took a deep breath and collected your thoughts. While you had a general idea of what you wanted to tell the incubus, you hoped that it would come out right.

“Listen, what do I need to do to convince you to stop seeing Meg for your health?” you asked, looking him in the eye. “This has nothing to do with jealousy or wanting you for myself – it’s just...she’s not a good person. She’s using you to get off and to look cool in her friends’ eyes.”

Namjoon tilted his head and he sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yoongi-hyung talked to you, I’m guessing?”

You nodded and busied yourself with crumpling your summoning notes in your hand. You explained how the elder had a few mishaps before finding you and discussing his purpose for getting you to assist him.

“I don’t know what I mean to you,” you began, “but I think you have better things to do that don’t involve repeat trips to visit a selfish, horny human.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and scanned Namjoon’s face for his reaction. You saw his hand reach out and you nervously extended the one with the notes. There was a pause before he laughed, shaking his head as he gestured at your empty hand.

“I think I can trust you to destroy those after we’re done chatting,” he said as you offered him your free hand. He enclosed it in his larger one, thumb stroking the top of your skin in slow circular movements.

“I know I should have collected a deal on the first visit from Meg,” he said. “But I did get a bit flustered after the mix-up, as you can imagine. Believe me, I haven’t forgotten about making her accept one with all my visits – maybe I wanted to give it some thought as to what she had to give up after summoning me regularly.” He turned his head and coughed, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Also...I um, liked chatting with the interesting human on her floor.”

“If you need to collect a deal from me to stop seeing her, I get it,” you said. You squared your shoulders and added that it was his job.

Namjoon held out a hand for your notes and you passed over the crumpled wad of papers. He let go of your other hand and smoothed out the notes, eyes darting across the page quickly to see what you wrote. He looked up and asked, “Did hyung explain what a deal entails?”

You shrugged and explained that you assumed it could be whatever the demon wanted done at the moment or later. Namjoon took the notes and held them over one of the candles, allowing them to burn up quickly.

“Whenever we ask for a deal, we ask you to give up something that means something to you,” he explained. “If I was as powerful as the head guy himself, that would be anything, from a first born to a shorter lifespan for you...”

“In contrast,” he continued, “we ask for favors – we’re not as high up in the chain as the head guy, so we can’t demand a first born or something like that. For example, I could ask Meg to give up all sexual relations with future partners if she continues to ask for me.”

“I’m guessing there would be consequences if she tried to break it?” you asked.

Namjoon nodded grimly, saying that she would continue to feel unfulfilled whenever she was horny, unless he took care of her sexual desires. “Not even another demon could help her,” he said. “But that’s if I made that deal with her.”

He turned his attention from the candle back to you and clarified that he did not wish to collect a deal from you. “As you saw from my example, there can be pain and suffering tied to deals, which is not something I wish to put you through. Plus you didn’t properly summon me – I came of my own will, so this visit doesn’t count.”

You opened and closed your mouth, sighing with a shake of your head. So much for following protocol...

He glanced down at the rug and shot you an apologetic smile. “I’ll buy you a new rug.”

“It was cheap – don’t worry,” you said with a wave of your hand. “So what are you planning to collect from Meg? Or is that strictly between both of you?”

“Confidential I’m afraid,” he sighed. “But you have my word that this is the final visit I’ll be making to her. I actually plan to persuade her to move, so she can stop giving you and your neighbors trouble. I think everyone will benefit from that.”

You nodded to show you understood. Having Meg move out would be nice and you were glad the incubus was cutting ties with her high maintenance ass. Yet you felt a bit wistful, as this was probably the last time you’d see him again.

Almost as if he seemed to be reading your mind, he leaned towards you, arms crossed as a smug grin crossed his lips.

“I still need to bring you a replacement rug – I’m not taking no for an answer. Besides, I have a feeling our paths will cross again more than once.”

[voyages-extraordinaires]

C:R ~VE~ Epilogue

Dearest Grandfather,

I promised you a longer letter, and unfortunately I will not be able to do so yet. You see, I’m writing to you from…

-----

“The Cannon Club?!”

Barbicane’s eyes go wide as he looks at the letter in his hands.

“Yes,” replies the Count. “Nicholas found them in America, in the city of Baltimore.”

“An assembly of like-minded individuals pursuing the sciences of rockets, fireworks, and projectiles!” Barbicane reads aloud. “Cardia, it’s just like the Old Man--! When I came up with that name, I had no idea it was an actual thing! I mean, of course I had no idea, I was just a kid... Old Man...”

She beams at him, and he barely takes a breath before he continues scanning the letter.

“You’re not going to believe this, everyone—they want to sponsor the moon trip! They—they want us to come to America, to put our heads together and research! I…”

Tears are welling up in his eyes, and Nemo jumps up to give him a pat on the back.

“Everyone, I… with this, I won’t need Queen Victoria’s patronage anymore. We’re really… we’re really going full steam ahead! My angel and I really will be walking on the moon!!”

-----

We’re in the state of Maryland, on the east coast of the United States of America. The Cannon Club is just as loud and bombastic as Barbicane (with quite a few members leaning towards Nemo’s loudness).

It’s the four of us again: Barbicane, Cardia, Nemo, and myself. We plan on staying in Baltimore for a month or two to research the Gravity Alleviator with the scientists of the Cannon Club.

They have already determined the ideal location for the cannon launch when the time comes: the state of Florida. I don’t know that much about it, but given its proximity to South America perhaps I can convince Nemo to accompany me on a trip to the Amazon River once we see Barbicane and Cardia safely back on Earth.

Before we left Steel London, Cardia made the Lupin Gang promise to reunite upon our return. It will be so chaotic when that happens, you would love it.

Finis returned to Wales, he was saying something about a gargantuan fork. I didn’t catch all of it.

Aouda and Philomena Fogg are still in Steel London, much to Nemo’s delight. Sometimes I think Aouda might be even more excited about the wedding than I am. Fogg is… herself. We’re all holding our breaths in anticipation of her latest adventure against time.

Cyrene Smith returned to Lincoln Island. She’s working hard on rooting out Aleister’s influence, though she says it looks like he pulled out most of said roots himself. He must have lost interest. More importantly, it looks like she really is collaborating with a scientist who wants to go to the center of the Earth! … I’m wishing her luck with that one. I suppose it isn’t any more ambitious than shooting a cannon to the moon.

Hatteras seems to be settling into the sanitarium well. I visit him often and, though he never says it, he seems to enjoy my company. He tells me that he’s taken up stargazing lately. He’s at his happiest when he sees the same stars he saw at the North Pole.

-----

“Daaaaaaarliiiing!” Nemo leans against the doorway. “Have you written about our wedding yeeeet?”

“Ah, not yet…”

-----

We will be back in London before the start of summer. Nemo’s already declared that, and I can’t believe I’m even writing this, we will be wed at the infamous Black Gathering! I can’t say that I agree with his idea, but there’s a part of me that can’t help but think that it might be fun.

-----

“Oh-ho! I told you, ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks’! Ohhh… it will be woooonderful to take to the skies again, my lovely bride at my side as I decimate all who would dare rise against meeeee…!”

“Nemo! It’s rude to read over others’ shoulders!”

-----

I think I’ve been around Nemo too long.

-----

I glance up at Nemo, and he looks back at me with a smile before blowing me a kiss.

-----

Before that happens, I want to return to Paris so that I can introduce you to him. Maybe you can convince him that a wedding among pirates and mafiosos would be a bad idea.

No, I’m certain that you’ll love him. The both of you have artistic souls, even if the mediums differ.

-----

“I look foooooorward to it,” says Nemo. He sits down next to me and leans contentedly on my shoulder, letting out a happy sigh.

-----

I’m afraid I need to cut this letter off now. Nemo is pestering me for attention.

-----

“And you say that I’m mean,” Nemo mutters, even as he leans over and gives my neck a teasing kiss.

“You’re denying it?” I try to look serious, but I can’t stop myself from laughing as his lips tickle my skin.

-----

Say hello to Conseil and Ned Land for me, and tell Conseil to hurry up and accept Ned’s sailing offer. Exploring Canada sounds like a wonderful opportunity for discovery!

I will write to you soon.

Your loving granddaughter,

Pauline

-----

As soon as I fold the paper closed, I have to fend off Nemo’s affections using my pen as though it were a sword. He calmly plucks it from my hands and gives me a playful kiss on the lips.

“Don’t tell me you left the research meeting early just for a few kisses?” I put a finger to his lips.

“Mn... who says I’m stooooooopping at a few kisses?” He puckers his lips and gives my fingers a kiss before pushing forward so he’s closer to me.

“That’s not the Nemo I know,” I say, even as he makes me lean back against the seat cushion. “He knows I’m here whenever he wants closeness, right...?”

I rub my nose against his.

“So he wouldn’t leave fun research for just this.”

Nemo pulls back with a grin, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “You really haaaaaaaave been around me too long. Fiiiiiine, fiiiiiiine!”

He stands up straight and hands me a parcel. “This just came in.  It’s really heavy! Heavy packages are the beeeeest!”

Nemo claps his hands excitedly before his lips are drawn into a frown. “Howeeeever, it looks like it was sent by that Apooostle... so I doubt there are any fun machine parts in there...”

“Machine parts would likely be addressed to you or Barbicane, anyhow,” I say. I straighten out my glasses before opening the parcel. I’m immediately greeted with the scent of antique paper and binding, and I look down at the neat envelope resting on top of nicely-wrapped paper.

“An engagement gift from Saint Germain and Saint Nicholas...” I read aloud. “Something for you to always believe in.”

I look down at the gift and tilt my head.

“Who’s Saint Nicholas...?” Nemo tilts his head as well, knocking it against mine.

“I don’t know,” I say. “The only Saint Nicholas I know is...”

Nemo sighs deeply. “Now I know where Impey got that ridiculous Santa Claus fantasy from, at least.”

“It’s a bit out of season,” I say as I begin to unwrap the present. “It’s barely even May!”

But my punctuation is forced out of my mouth in a gasp when I see the familiar book underneath the paper.

“Timaeus, Critias, and More Dialogues by Plato...” Nemo reads. “My, my, what a lofty book for a little girl to reeeeead!”

“... It’s the same edition and everything,” my voice is tight. “The very same edition as my grandfather’s. I, I know everything about this book. I...”

I open it up and begin to thumb through the pages.

“I know exactly where-- look! I can still open it up to the exact page!” I look over at Nemo, who’s resting his cheek on his hand and smiling at me.

“You look reeeeally cute right now...” he says. “Keep on going. I want to see all of it.”

I blush sheepishly and shake my head before looking back down at the volume and beginning to read:

“In front of the mouth which you call 'the Pillars of Heracles,' there lay an island...”

I squint at the margin.

There, in fine ink, was written something that made my fingers begin to tremble.

“Hm?” Nemo looks from my expression to my trembling hand, then to my finger as I shakily lift it and point to the writing.

“N-Nemo, they’re... they look like... are they?”

Nemo adjusts his goggles and looks at the writing. “They do appear to be coordinates, love.”

I clutch the book in both of my hands and stand up, running over to one of the Cannon Club’s many bookshelves and scouring it for an atlas.

My fingers are shaking so badly that I can barely hold onto the book of dialogues, let alone pull out the tome of maps I eventually find. I breathe a sigh of relief when Nemo saunters next to me and pulls it down, laying it out on a table.

Even though Nemo is the biggest skeptic I know, even he swallows in anticipation as he quickly pinpoints the coordinates listed in the book.

My vision blurs as I look at the map, and I quickly step back so my tears don’t stain the paper.

“It is... it really is... beyond the Pillars!” I try to wipe my eyes, but find it difficult while holding the large book in my arms. “I... wi-with everything we know about the Count, I feel like... maybe I can really believe...”

Nemo lets out a deep sigh before walking over to me and wiping my cheeks with his thumb.

I shake my head, smiling. “You can laugh if you want. I mean, the idea of this being real is... is...”

But Nemo pulls me to his chest, resting his chin on my head and gently petting my hair.

“You’re excited, aaaaren’t you?”

I nod, my tears breaking into laughter. “They might be, they really might be... the coordinates... it might be the lost city of...” A hiccup interrupts my words.

“After we see Impey Barbicane and my sister go to the moon, what shall we do then?” He pulls back and tilts my chin up, pushing his goggles onto his forehead so we can look at each other clearly.

“... Come with me, disciple of natural science.”

Though his voice is calmer, those words make memories come filtering through my haze of excitement.

Back to when bars first separated us, our very first meeting.

“Nemo...”

“Nothing is impossible for meeee!” he continues his quotation. I will create a ship dedicated to discovery!”

He bends down and kisses my forehead.

“Even if there’s nothing, even if there’s everything... any expedition in the name of science is a nooooble one! Let me take you on another journey of a thoooousand lifetimes, my daaaarling!”

It’s been almost a year, but I remember my reply clearly, and repeat it:

“I don’t want to go on this voyage with anyone but you, Nemo.”

“Pinky proooomise?”

I shake my head, biting my lip to stop my laughter.

“Not this time.”

I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his, and he reciprocates, threading his fingers through my hair and holding me tight.

It’s a promise.

[mutantdatingproblems]

We Got Tagged

Hey everyone, we got tagged by @localmutantlesbian in this mutant ask thing so here we go (as always Z will be using bolded font and Vex will use italics and if we’re both saying it it’ll be both bolded and in italics, just so ya know who’s who in our answers if ya don’t wanna read our names every time). Here we go!

1. What’s your codename/mutant name?

Z: I can’t decide honestly, I’ve considered something simple like “Shifter” and crazy shit like “Dragon Queen” but they’ve all been shot down so far either by me or by Prof.X or one of the other Profs or my friends for being lame

V: This is a question I hate because I totally would’ve gone with like “Multiple Girl” but Multiple Man has that and they won’t let me pick something in a dead or nerd language (even though I think it’d be super cool) so I also don’t have one. We don;t go into the field much yet though so it doesn’t really matter yet.

2. Age?

Z: 19 going on 20, birthday is in May

V: Same except my birthday is in June

3. Gender and pronouns?

Z: Genderfluid with a current lean towards nonbinary so they/them or she/her or he/him all work for me, I don’t really care

V: Genderqueer, They/Them or She/Her please

4. What is your mutation(s)?

Z: Shapeshifting and mild hydrokinesis and is ADHD a mutation? Cause I swear it gives me superpowers

V: Creating multiples of myself and enhanced strength, speed, and senses. And yeah ADHD should definitely count as a power.

5. Are you a member of any mutant group (X-Men, The Mutant Underground, The Brotherhood of Mutants, Morlocks, etc)?

Z: X-Men in training at Xavier's (But I have friends in The Brotherhood)

V: Ditto

6. Got any physical mutations?

Z: Yeah, although mine are mostly by choice seeing as I’m a shapeshifter. I’m fond of my claws and fangs and tails and scales and horns and freaky eyes for everyday use

V: Nope, not really.

7. When did your powers manifest?

Z: Around 13

V: 12 and a half

8. What is your favourite thing about your powers?

Z: Everything. I love my powers, I love that I can be anything and do anything if I put my mind to it. It makes me who I am honestly, I don’t know who I’d be without my powers. Hell I’d probably have killed myself if my powers hadn’t manifested when they did I hated myself so much back then. Of course being at Xavier’s and meeting V and my other friends helped too. But yeah I love my powers and how they make me feel.

V: Ditto honestly, my powers help me learn so much and so much faster than I used to be able to, the focus I gain from my clones alone is a life saver when I have to do anything I find boring (which is a lot because Inattentive ADHD sucks royally). The enhanced senses and stuff are pretty awesome too, nothing better than losing your favorite pen under a couch and being able to lift the couch over your head ta get it back. I wouldn’t trade my powers for anything in the world.

9. Biggest pet peeve related to being a mutant?

Z: Assholes being assholes to us, assholes who only approve of human-passing mutants who think we should be grateful they even tolerate that much, not being able to find good shapeshifter friendly clothing that still looks cool and comes in plus sizes, and uppity fuckwad mutants who judge others on powers or looks or anything else because god dammit we need to stick together and support each other. I could go on because I have a lot but I won’t or this’ll take forever.

V: The asshole issues that Z pointed out but also when my powers go outta control cause I lose my cool or something and I have ta calm down ta find control again and it’s really hard, or when I sneeze cause of allergies and I accidentally sneeze a clone out...it’s embarrassing. Also accidentally hurting people with my enhanced strength....I hate that too

10. Ever been to space or another dimension?

Z: Yeah by accident.....it involved tequila....lots of tequila....

V: Nope

11. Do you wear a costume (BE HONEST)

Z: Sorta? I have ta make a lot of my own clothes cause of my physical mutations and shapeshifting so sometimes they come out looking very costumey and I am fond of leather which doesn’t help. I guess my battle gear counts? Loose black cargo pants (need all the pockets for gadgets and snacks cause shapeshifting requires a fuckton of calories and effort), black tank top (lightweight body armor actually but designed ta look like a tank top), arm warmers (again armor, they cover from my wrists to halfway up my upper arm, they’re also black). black leather fingerless gloves, combat boots (with knives hidden in the toes, also black except I change the laces all the time cause I like making them funky colors and designs), and a black leather weapons belt that holds at least one stun gun, two daggers/medium sized knives, and in some cases a sword because I like it. All of it’s like....well for lack of a better term...enchanted ta survive my shifts (including into dragon form) so it doesn’t rip or tear or anything. Apparently when I shift it kinda just disappears into a pocket dimension and then reappears on me when I shift back...I dunno how it works, ask Scarlet Witch she hooked me up. And by the way the weapons are because sometimes if I’m too drained ta shift I gotta go hand-to hand.

V: Yeah kinda, it’s my battle gear too. Navy cargo pants (I keep extra snacks for Z), black t-shirt, black wrist guards, black boots with purple laces and skulls and stuff painted on them, purple weapons belt holding a stun gun, throwing knives (like a frick ton, I also store more in my pants), more knives of varying sizes, smoke bombs (great for sneak attacks, just throw to confuse enemy and then attack from all sides with clones. I have flash bombs too), and a couple different versions of brass knuckles, and then I wear opaque black sunglasses too because I like them. Oh and yes my shirt is body armor like Z’s is of course, and my boots are steel toe.

12. Are you a minority in another way (race, gender, disability, etc)?

Z: Genderfluid Panromantic Demisexual who’s got mad depression, anxiety, ADHD, and fainting spells and I’m Polyamorous

V: Genderqueer, Queer in general, demisexual and polyamorous also with severe anxiety as well as dsycalculia and ADHD 

13. Coolest power you’ve seen?

Z: I love Storm’s powers, but Scarlet Witch is pretty cool too

V: I concur with Storm but I’m also fond of Z’s powers cause watching your friend turn into a dragion is really cool

14. Favourite mutant artist?

Z: Dunno

V: Ditto

15. How would your friends describe you?

Z: Loud, proud, queer as fuck, angry, musical, a water baby, a literal and metaphorical dragon, bad influence, pun queen, kind of insane, kinky, and V’s shoulder devil/inner crazy bitch. 

V: Quiet, secretly vindictive, punk af, dorky, wordy, easily distracted, helpful, accidental group therapist, mom friend, and Z’s conscience/shoulder angel. 

16. Enhanced/powered person you most want to meet?

Z: Deadpool, I always miss him when he visits and it sucks

V: Spiderman......I just think he seem really cool

17. Feelings about mutant registration?

Z: No, just no. That’s how they end up rounding us up and killing us all. If it’s an operation run by us mutants ourselves as a way to work together and support each other and offer aid to mutants and help mutant youth who’ve been kicked out of their homes and stuff like that then sure. But not some government list of us all, fuck no.

V: Yeah ditto on that.

18. #MutantandProud or #WeWantACure?

Z&V: #MutantandProud

Z&V: Again unless it’s something regulated by mutants for mutants, no. Because it should be a mutants choice whether or not they want their powers because some people get royally screwed and end up with powers they hate because they are dangerous or something like that. It shouldn’t be something the government or anyone else can decide, it should always be the mutants individual choice. 

19. How did you choose your codename?

Z: Don’t have one yet but when I do choose it’ll probably be like...by throwing darts at a bunch of names I like or a coin flip or something

V: Don’t have one yet, I’ll tell you how I chose it when I figure one out.

20. OPTIONAL: what caused your powers to manifest?

Z: Got mad, grew talons and fangs and scales cause I was reading about mythological creatures earlier, was not pretty. It happened when I was alone though so that was a plus. (I was mad because of a text from my boyfriend at the time). The hydrokinesis thing I figured out after I got to Xavier’s...was outside in the courtyard....got catcalled by some asshole student....wished I could dump water on his head....fountain water flew up and over and dumped gallons on his head....it was awesome.

V: I sneezed at the dinner table and three clones shot out of me....the strength and speed stuff I figured out at school in gym class when suddenly I was kicking ass at track and field after always sucking at it my whole life....The senses I figured out when I could hear waaaayyyyy too much noise everywhere and everything smelled waaayyy too strong and suddenly I could see without my glasses (yeah I used ta have and need glasses, I don’t anymore but if I did they’d be cats-eye style like a vintage librarian because reasons). 

Tagging: We’re not really sure who ta tag so if you wanna do it then feel free ta do it and tag us!

(And thank you again to @localmutantlesbian for tagging us! We loved doing this!)

~Mod Z

~Mod Vex

P.S Wanna know more about us? Check out our previous “Meet the Mods” posts or check out our “Meet the Mods” page on the blog!