#I’m just.. oh man. well. probably as uncomfortable as I should have been to begin with?

[sinnamonstache]

Just lost my job.. so I wanna try to get back into drawing.

However I’m.. not exactly comfortable picking up where I left off? I’ve changed a bit, mentally, and like. My interests aren’t very different, but…. I don’t think I can stomach making the same content I did before. I don’t know that I want it to attached to whatever I do going forward, either. I want to get more into OCs and stuff, if possible.

That said.. I know some of y’all really wanted that old art back. So I’m weighing my options…

I’ve considered making some kind of archive, but idk how to.. twitter frustrates me and feels far too public, given the subject-matter 😔 I may use it going forward but it doesn’t feel like the right place for my old works

I may just re-start with a new username and let this one lie...?

[tessasturns]

nerd!matt giving brat!reader head

100 follower special !!

warnings… oral (f receiving), matt the munch, soft dom!matt, swearing, slight degrading, hair pulling?, edging, pet names

my first actual smut fic, mb if its ass but enjoy

(masterlist) (taglist)

“so if a dataset has a mean of 50 and a standard deviation of 5, what percentage of the data falls within one standard deviation of the mean?” matt asks.

you groan as you fling your head back. “matt c’mon, we’re not gettin’ anywhere with this”

“alright jus’ this one question.” matt says as he acknowledges your whines. matt was smart, like really smart, and it was noticeable to anybody who saw him.

the collared shirt, big glasses, and the awkward persona were enough to give it away.

“matt” you complain. “we’ve been at this for hours… can we just wrap it up? my brain isnt working anymore.”

“c’mon sweetheart…just a couple more questions, we’ve almost finished reviewing this unit.” he said, trying to get you to cram for your exam tomorrow.

“ugh fine. one more question” you say, only agreeing because, truly, how could you say no to him?

minutes pass and all you begin to think about is the growing heat between your legs.

you uncomfortably try to adjust your legs to make it stop, but nothing works. you start to zone out, your mind racing with all the things the man in front of you should be doing.

sure, you’ve noticed how stunning matt is, i mean you are “dating” him.

you look around his dorm to try and find anything else to focus on.

but his messy hair, shirt pulled up to see his veiny arms, and the raspy voice were enough to make a woman go wild.

“hellooo? y/n?” matt calls, causing you to snap out of your trance. “hey?” you respond.

“i asked you a question- you’re not listening are you.” he realizes.

“matt ‘m sorry, but i just don’t understand this and i’m so tired” you whine.

“sweetheart, you have your exams tomorrow. if you don’t revise and study you won’t do your best on it.” he warns.

he knew you weren’t the smartest person, well at least not compared to him, but he knew that it was probably your daddy’s money that got you a spot at a prestigious university.

“just two more-” he starts, but notices the pout on your face and your crossed legs and chuckles.

“oh sweetheart, you couldn’t even wait ten minutes for us to finish this?” he says, mumbling a small ‘pathetic’ before moving closer to you.

“please matt” you whine.

“please what?” he smiles, his hand on your knee.

“pl-please touch me” you pout, knowing he wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“oh, you poor thing” he coos with faux sympathy laced on his tongue.

he rubs a hand up and down your knee, your plaid skirt you wore to tease him now sliding up your thighs.

“fuck- matt don’t tease…” you mewl, your arousal now practically dripping in between your legs.

he smirked at you, loving the way you reacted to the slightest touch and the simplest of words.

“take this off f’me, yeah?” he basically whispers, running his hand over your skirt.

you do just that as he points over to the bed. “sit” he commands.

you’re now sitting at the edge of the bed in your baby blue lingerie, waiting for matt to touch you.

he gets down on his knees, slowly kissing your now slightly shaking thighs.

your pussy aches for this man, wanting him to just touch you.

he slowly takes off your panties, disregarding them on the floor as he softly spreads open your legs.

he wraps your thighs around his head, looking up at you with those submissive ass eyes.

“matt- please i need you” you beg, your fingers intertwined in his brown locks.

he smiles at the amount of power he has over you, kissing your pussy before slowly licking your clit.

you slightly moan at the sudden pleasure, your mouth agape.

he continues this subtle yet effective movement, earning more and more moans from you.

he begins to lap his tongue around your hole, causing you to grab his hair.

his tongue moves faster and faster as your hips buck against his tongue.

“y’like that sweetie?” matt asks, moving his tongue faster (if possible.)

“oh fuck- yes matt” you whine, your brain foggy. “m’gonna cum”

“ah ah ah” he tuts, stopping his movements. “i’ll tell you when you can come doll”

this only made you whine more, since you were used to getting your way.

“f-fuck matt… i can’t take it” “oh but yes you can doll. you practically begged for it, you’re gonna take it.” he commands.

you were a moaning mess on his bed. eyes rolled to the back of your head, legs shaking, and your hands gripping at matts hair in an attempt to make him go faster.

“h-holy shit” you moan. “please i need to cum”

“hmm… have you been good?” he asks.

“yes… please matt” you groan.

“atta girl, cum on my tongue babydoll” matt’s words, tongue, hands travelling your body, and piercing blue eyes were enough to send you over the edge.

you felt your body relax and the knot in your stomach snap as you released your arousal on his tongue.

“this gonna help you ace your exam tomorrow?” matt asks jokingly, as you playfully smack his shoulder.

tessa’s notes… THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 FOLLOWERS !!! i truly didn’t know how fast i could grow over the span of 3 months, but you all made it happen and i’m so grateful for every single one of you💋. guys i literally HATEEE writing smut so i do apologize if it’s terrible, js wanted to try smth different to express my gratitude for all of you !!!

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

Eddie frowns. “Do you know why you were brought back?”

Steve shrugs. “Kinda. I know we knew what we were doing, when we were, but best I can figure, coming back in time messed with our memories and made them really hazy for a bit. It’s clearing up now, and I’m remembering more. Basically El found a way to send us back to make this all right from the beginning.”

Eddie nods, then seemingly changes the subject. “So Robin said you know? About her?”

Steve’s brows furrow in thought, then smooth out. “Oh! Yeah. She did.”

Eddie nods. “She knows, but… do you?”

“About?”

Eddie fidgets. “Me.”

Steve takes a second. “I didn’t know for sure, but I had an idea.”

Eddie nods. “So, you and I weren’t ever… we…”

“No,” Steve murmurs, then shrugs. “Maybe, if we had more time. And I know this probably sounds really weird to you, considering we officially met, like, two days ago, but…” Steve shrugs. “I can… I can lay off. If you want. If it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I’m going to process any of this until tomorrow at the earliest.”

Steve chuckles. “Fair enough. Just… let me know, yeah?”

Eddie nods, and with that they fall silent for a little while longer.

Eddie’s the one to break the silence. “The tape you gave me. Have you listened to it?”

Steve smiles. “Once or twice. I didn’t get to hear you play, but Dustin told me it was the most metal concert ever.”

Eddie chuckles. “Are you hoping for a do-over this time? Hoping to hear me play?”

“And if I was?”

Eddie sobers. “Then I guess I’ll just have to play it for you.”

Steve smiles. “I’d like that.”

They fall silent for a little bit longer until Steve sighs. “I feel like I owe you an apology. You didn’t ask for any of this. For my feelings or to be dragged into this or-”

“Hey,” Eddie says, stopping him in his tracks with a soft hand to his arm. “I asked a question. I wanted honesty, and I got it. Admittedly I got a little more than that, what with fuckin’ Mordor,” he gestures around, and Steve chuckles. “But you gave me honesty. That’s it. You didn’t push me to accept it or reciprocate anything. You didn’t even push me for a reaction. Did your answer surprise me?” He chuckles, shakes his head. “Man, I’m not convinced I’m not still dreaming. Maybe I fuckin’ drove the van into a pole on the way to school and now this is a very weird coma-dream and I’m in the hospital. I don’t fuckin’ know, man.”

Steve frowns. “Do people in comas dream?”

“I- what?” Eddie asks, then considers the question. “I- I don’t know. They do, right? They’re just asleep, I thought?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not like you dream every night, right? Maybe comas are always on those nights. Or days. Or whatever.”

Eddie blinks at him, then slowly smiles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re weird as shit, man?”

Steve laughs. “Only all the time.”

His smile falls as he looks out at the landscape. “We should keep moving. We’ve been out in the open for a while.”

Eddie hums. “How far did the squirts say?”

Steve sighs. “They didn’t, just said to keep going this way until El tells us to turn.”

Suddenly, a shadow flits over his face. He freezes and looks up, then curses quietly and grabs for Eddie’s arm, stilling him.

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie hisses.

“Demobat.”

“Shit.” Eddie takes a shaky breath. “If i shoot it, will the gun scare off the others or bring them to investigate?”

Steve sets his jaw, mouth a thin line. “Only one way to find out.”

Eddie cocks the gun. “Shoot and run like hell?”

Steve nods, and Eddie smiles grimly before lining up the sights, taking a deep breath, and pulling the trigger.

The gun fires.

The bat falls to the ground.

Steve and Eddie run.

Eddie almost falls once, trying to run and carry the gun, and Steve grabs his hand, pulling him along, forgetting their hands are joined until the walkie crackles to life again and Mike’s voice comes through. “Turn left,” he says, and Eddie’s brow furrows.

“We’re getting farther from the lake.”

Steve relays the information, and they pause, catching their breath while they wait for a reply. “El says he’s not near the lake.”

Steve and Eddie look at each other, then shrug. “Alright,” Steve says. “How long?”

“She says you’ll know,” comes the cryptic answer.

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[junikicker]

The Proposal - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader (Part 2)

The Proposal Part 2 - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader

“Hi. I’m Mr. Gilberston. And you must be...” The man trailed off, looking down at the file in his hands. “Y/n and Rebecca. Oh what glorious times we live in, huh?” He tried to make small talk, sitting down at the desk in his office. The room was small. Tiny, compared to Rebecca’s office. The walls were blue and there were huge shelves with boxes and boxes of files.

“Yes yes, amazing times. And I can’t even begin to tell you how much we appreciate you seeing us on such short notice.” Rebecca started with a smile as the man sat down at his desk before skimming over the file in front of him.

“So… I have one question for you.” He stated, closing the file again. “Are the two of you committing fraud to avoid Ms. Welton having to sell AFC Richmond back to some Mr. Rupert Mannion?” You tried not to roll your eyes at the statement. Well, here you go.

“That is ridiculous.” You shook your head. “Where- where did you hear that?” Rebecca stuttered. “We had a phone tip this afternoon from a man named-” - “Bob Spaulding? I’m sorry. Bob is nothing but a disgruntled former employee. I do apologize. But we do know that you’re incredibly busy, so if you just give us our next step, we will be out of your hair and on our way.” Rebecca tries. She was nervous. More nervous than you expected her to be since this had been her idea.

“Ms. Welton, please.” The man offered her to take a seat in front of his desk, you immediately rushed to pull out the chair for her before taking a seat next to her.

“Let me explain to you the process that is about to unfold.” He started. “First step will be a scheduled interview. I’ll have each of you put in a room and ask every little question that a real couple would know about each other. Step two, I dig deeper. I’ll look at your phone records, talk to your neighbors etc. If your answers don’t match up at every point, you, Ms. Welton, will sell the club, indefinitely. And you, young woman will have committed a felony… punishable by a fine of a quarter million pounds and five years of prison… So, Y/n. You wanna talk to me?” That lecture hit, you were debating whether or not you should just stop pretending.

“The truth is...” You started and Rebecca turned to you, looking uneasy. “Becca and I are just two people who weren’t supposed to fall for each other. But we did. After telling her about her ex-husband’s more than frequent affairs with employees, and plotting a plan for a divorce that lead to having bottles of wine at my place, we just fell in love. Obviously, we couldn’t tell anyone at work because of my promotion coming up and it would be deeply inappropriate if I were promoted under her, while we were in a relationship.” You explained and Rebecca seemed to grow even more uncomfortable.

“So, do your parents know about that secret relationship of yours?” He asks.

“Well, I’m not on good terms with my parents, haven’t seen them in years. So no. No brothers or sisters. Yeah.” Rebecca answered for her part. “You?” Gilbertson asked. “We were planning on telling them this weekend.”Rebecca quickly intervened. “Granny’s 90th birthday and the whole family is coming together. We thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“And where is this surprise gonna happen?”

“At Y/n’s parents’ house.” - “Where is that located again?”

Deciding to jump in, seeing as the probability for Rebecca to know that was about zero, you replied instead. “Buniewice.” You replied easily. “Buniewice.” Rebecca repeated. “In Poland.” - “In Poland?” Rebecca tried to mask her surprise. Her reaction did not surprise you. You had been more than sure that she hadn’t gone over your application as she kept you around. If she did, she would have noticed your dual citizenship.

“You’re gonna go to Poland this weekend?” He asked, not really believing you. “Yes… Yeah, we’re going to Poland, that’s where… that’s where my little… that’s where my darling is from.” Rebecca stated, reaching a hand over to awkwardly pat your shoulder.

“Okay, fine. I see how this is gonna go. I will see you both at eleven o’clock. Monday morning sharp, for your scheduled interview and your answers better match up on every account.” And with that he left the office without another word. Rebecca immediately went to answer her phone ringing.

You and Rebecca left the office building the same way you entered, walking out of the big glass doors on the front of the building, Rebecca was still looking down at her phone. “Okay, so, what is going to happen is we will go all the way over there. We will pretend like we’re girlfriend and girlfriend, tell your parents we’re engaged. Uh, use the miles for the tickets. I guess I will pop up for you to fly first class. But make sure you use the miles.” Rebecca jumped from one topic to the next within seconds while multitasking with her phone still in her hand.

“Hey, why aren’t you taking notes…?” Rebecca asked once she had finally diverted her eyes from the screen of her phone. “I’m sorry, were you not in that room?” You asked her, stopping in your tracks and turning to face her. “What? What- oh, the thing you said about you being promoted? Genius! Genius. The guy completely fell for it.” Rebecca replied, storing her phone in her purse.

“I was serious.” You stated matter of factly. “I’m looking at five years in jail and a quarter million in pounds. That changes things.” - “Promote you? No, no way.” She shook her head. You had a hard time not being intimidated by her, but you did your best.

“Then I quit, and you’re screwed.” You replied easily. “Bye-bye, Rebecca. It has been a little slice of heaven.” You added, turning around and starting to walk away from her. At any other moment, you would have thought this would be a chance for you. The way it was in the books. Forced marriage but they end up falling for each other. But now you weren’t sure anymore. She didn’t even seem to care about you.

“Y/n, Y/n! Fine, fine.” You stopped. Well, that was not as hard as you thought it would be. “I’ll have you be in charge of our transfers. Fine.” You turned back around at her words. “If you do the Poland weekend and the interview, you’re gonna be in charge of transfers.” She gave in. “And not in two years, right way.” You spoke, leaving no room for arguing. “Fine.” She agreed, managing not to roll her eyes.

“And we’ll tell my family about our engagement when I want and how I want.” You added. “Now, ask me nicely to marry you.”

“What does that mean?” Rebecca asked you, looking at you confused. “You heard me. Ask me to marry you, Rebecca. I won’t need you on your knees but ask me nicely.”

“Will you marry me?” She asked, not even meeting your eyes. “No. Say it like you mean it.” You encouraged her. And then she locked eyes with you. Oh how you were a sucker for her eyes. The green was oh so captivating.

“Y/n?” She asked you, voice now a bit less annoyed. “Yes, Rebecca?” You replied. “Sweet, sweet Y/n?” - “I’m listening.”

“Would you please, cherries on top, marry me?” She asked you, sarcasm now very much present in her voice. “Hmm. I don’t really appreciate the sarcasm, but I’ll do it.” You agreed and she flashed you a small, grateful, smile. “See you at the airport tomorrow.” And with that, you left her standing alone.

And this interaction led you to where you were now. Sitting on the plane to Danzig. Little did Rebecca know that you would have to board another plane once you landed there.

“So, these are the questions that this guy will be asking us.” You spoke, only partially to yourself while Rebecca was flipping through a magazine. You sighed and looked out of the window. “Good news is I know everything about you, bad news is that you have four days to learn all this about me. So, you should… probably start studying.” You said and Rebecca took the list of questions out of your hands, starting to flip through them.

“What am I allergic to?” She asked you as if to test your knowledge. “Pine nuts.” You replied easily, not even having to think for a second. “And the full spectrum of human emotion.” You added under your breath. Still, she seemed to have caught your comment and let out a small chuckle. “Here’s a good one. Do I have any scars?” She challenges you again, quirking an eyebrow.

“You know all these answers to these questions about me?” Rebecca asked, not believing one word you were saying. “Scary isn’t it?” You asked her, still looking out of the window. “A bit.” She admitted.

“I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo. Not that anyone else would ever think you did.” You replied, remembering a call you had gotten not too long ago. “Oh, you’re sure?” She teased, a smirk on her face.

“I’m pretty sure. A month ago your dermatologist called and asked about a Q-switched laser. I did some research and found out you use these to remove tattoos. But you canceled your appointment which leads me to the conclusion that you do, in fact, have a tattoo. It’s nothing big. Probably something you got before you met Mr. Mannion seeing as you do not want to have it removed. Maybe something that reminds you of something.” You brainstormed and Rebecca had an amused smile gracing her lips as she listened to your theories. “It’s not on your feet or ankle. Arms are out too. Maybe on your back? Or maybe on your hip?” You continued but Rebecca intervened. “You know, it is very exciting for me to experience you like this.” She joked.

“Thank you.” You joked back. “You’re gonna have to tell me where it is though.” You added and Rebecca rolled her eyes, focusing back on the question catalogue. “No, I’m not.” She replied easily. “He’s gonna ask.” You kept going. “Nope, we’re done with that question.” Rebecca decided, continuing to flip through the catalogue. “On to another question. Lemme see, lemme see...” She trailed off and you diverted your attention back to the clouds surrounding the plane.

“Oh, here’s one. Whose place do we stay at, yours or mine?” Rebecca read out before answering the question herself. “That’s easy. Mine.” - “And why wouldn’t we stay at mine?” You asked.

“Uhm, because my place is bloody nice and I have the perfect views.” She easily answered. “And because you probably live at some tiny, little studio flat with stacks and stacks of Penguin Classics.” She added and you tried not to let your face fall into an inappropriate grimace.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. We are beginning our descent into Danzig.” Came the muffled voice over the speakers. Rebecca’s face was already furrowing in confusion. 

“Danzig? I thought we were going to Buniewice?” She asked, buckling her seatbelt. Her eyebrows were still furrowed in confusion as you raised your hand and gently pushed between them with your thumb, her face relaxing instantly. “We are.” You answered her question. “And how are we supposed to get there?”

Oh how you enjoyed the look on Rebecca’s face as you boarded a smaller plane. It was nothing compared to flying first class, you knew that, but it had been all you ever knew. While you were focused on the question catalogue for your interview, Rebecca just sat there, not voicing her discomfort, but putting up no effort to hide it on her face and body. 

You felt uneasy as you landed. You hadn’t seen your family in a while. However the part you were concerned about the most was seeing your father again. He never seemed to be proud of anything you had accomplished. He voiced disapproval when you had decided to move to England about ten years ago. Ever since then the relationship between the two of you had been rather rocky. 

[whumpbug]

If you're still doing prompts for your guys...

How about used as bait? Make of that what you will! I would love to learn more about your OCs :D

-- @whumperofworlds

thank you very much for the prompt!!! i must say, i've never really written anything like this but omg. being used as bait/its a trap/kidnapping is truly an underrated trope, at least on this blog

i know i said i wouldn't write hurt/no comfort but HEAR ME OUT. this isnt no comfort. its SUSPENSE. i will most likely be writing a part 2 for this during the whumperless whump event so TRUST ME these boys will get comforted.

also bear with me, writing whumper stuff/situations like this isn't my strong suit and i feel like there are definitely plot holes at certain points.. (-｡-;)

onto the fic!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

This was just Simon’s luck.

He really should be used to getting himself into these situations. This was the second time in only two months that he’d been harassed by Archie’s enemies.

They have just.. never taken it this far before. He’d never been kidnapped before.

Simon was starting to worry. From the way his arms were tied behind him, it was getting hard to take a full breath. He needed to force himself to calm down. Hyperventilating would only make things worse. He needed to analyze the situation at hand.

He was bound to a chair in the middle of a dusty, abandoned warehouse.

Well, at least, he thinks it’s a warehouse.

Truthfully, he’d been blindfolded and gagged since they shoved him into the back of the van and sped away from the city.

He only assumed it was a warehouse from the way the doors sounded as they were being opened and the echo of the chair being dragged toward him. Also, the air around him felt vacant and cold. It smelled of wet cement.

Also, there was the matter of his restraints. Sure, the rope around his wrists were itchy and his back was beginning to ache from the angle he was forced to sit at, but he silently chose to count his blessings. 

His captors hadn’t hurt him, save for the initial bonk on the head to subdue him. No, he was relatively unscathed, which was.. odd.

Usually the lackeys tried to beat information about Archie out of him, to no avail of course. He found it strange that no one had come around to yell at him or intimidate him with half-empty threats. In fact, Simon was fairly sure he was completely alone in the building. He hadn’t heard the shuffling and breathing of bodies around him since they first tied him up. The whole situation was abnormal.

Still, he needed to focus on a way out, and therein lies the reason he was beginning to panic. When the guys first knocked him out, they took his phone, wallet, and every accessory he had on him, including the emergency signal bracelet he had to communicate with Archie.

Without it, Archie had no way of knowing where he was or that he was even in trouble. Considering the time of night, Archie would be on patrol. There was at least a chance that he’d get injured enough to pay a visit to Simon’s apartment, but even that could take hours.

Hours Simon wasn’t sure he had.

What game were these guys trying to play? 

If they wanted information, they weren’t doing a very good job of getting it. If they wanted to kill him, they surely would have done so already. What was their goal?

Just when Simon was almost sure they had forgotten about him, the sound of a metal door scraping open reverberated throughout the building. He heard slow, deliberate footsteps make their way towards him, and then felt a calloused hand yank off his blindfold. He squinted.

The man bent at the waist to meet Simon’s gaze. “Rise and shine.” 

His breath was uncomfortably warm, and if Simon could have told him to give him some personal space, he would have. Instead, he narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, someone doesn’t seem too happy,” The man sing-songed, harshly grabbing Simon by the chin and forcing his gaze up. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet, at least.”

Simon swallowed convulsively against the gag.

“You’re probably wondering what we all plan on doing to you,” He said, motioning to the door off to the side of the building. Simon could only assume that that was where the rest of the men that kidnapped him were.

“Well, patience is a virtue, my friend. I promise that all will be answered. But until then, if you wish to see this through with your life, you’ll have to do a little something for me.” He explained, thumbing saliva away from where it was pooling down Simon’s chin.

He glared. We’ll see about that.

The man pulled out a camera.

“I have a guy on the inside, who will feed whatever I want directly into Vigil’s not-so-secret little broadcast channel. As soon as he knows his precious nurse is in trouble, he’ll come for you right away,” he chirped. “All I need from you is a video proving your wellbeing, just so the brat knows we haven’t killed you yet and knows to tread carefully. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Simon blinked. 

Did he really think he and his 4 other cronies would be able to handle a pissed-off Archie? Simon didn’t notice any of the tell-tale signs that they were hopped up on enhancers, so for all intents and purposes, it was just.. five regular humans against one livid superhuman.

Simon stifled a snort.  

If a video was what the man wanted, a video was what he would get! He was practically giving Simon the keys to his freedom!

The man pointed his camera at Simon and grinned.

“All you have to say is that you’re uninjured, and that if he doesn’t come within one hour, that won’t remain the case. Nothing more, nothing less, got it?”

The man reached around Simon’s head and pulled off the gag, to which Simon gasped for air. He shot a glare at him, and saw the camera light flick on. He cleared his throat.

“Oh Vigil. Oh please come save me. I am uninjured and terrified and these men will hurt me if you are not here in one hour. Whatever will I do without my knight in shining armor,” He deadpanned, tone dripping in sarcasm. He hoped Archie would appreciate his joke.

The man scowled and replaced the gag, taking extra care to tie it even tighter, and disappeared into the side room. Simon was alone once again. 

God, no one told him being kidnapped would be so boring. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. It could have been three minutes, it could have been thirty, but he felt a pang of relief when he heard a window breaking from outside.

Finally. Things could get moving.

He saw Archie’s blonde hair peeking over the sill of one of the high windows, and a soft smile spread across his face. Not that he had any doubt, but it felt nice to know someone would always come to rescue him.

When Archie pulled himself up and over, landing on the cement floor in a low crouch, Simon saw it.

Resting in the slit of the door he had seen earlier, was the end of a rifle.

It was with a sickening lurch of his stomach that Simon realized this whole thing was a trap.

Looking back, he had no idea how he hadn’t noticed earlier. Why else would they be trying to draw Archie to them?

He saw Archie rear up for a fight. He jerked against the restraints in the chair, but it was no use. Simon tried to scream. He tried to warn him, tell him to turn back and go, but no words would make it past the gag.

He watched as the tranquilizer dart stuck Archie right in the neck.

Archie froze. He locked eyes with Simon as if confirming his worst fears. Simon’s heart sank.

He saw Archie take a step. Then another, this one more unsteady. Finally, Archie’s eyes rolled back in his head and his knees buckled as he dropped into a heap on the cold floor.

When Simon saw the captors approach his body with boxes of medical instruments, he could only be silently grateful that Archie wasn’t awake to see the size of the needles.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[uniiiquehecrt]

Pre Ragnarok Thor used to be playful at times. Post Ragnarok Thor is a full on himbo.

But people mistaking / aligning his past playful behavior with his current himboness is what makes me pull out my hair.

"He was always a himbo!" NO HE WASN'T!

I’M JOINING YOU THERE 😭😭😭 Thor was PLAYFUL. He was SASSY. He was FUNNY and good-natured and kind and knew how to navigate situations to lift people up again. But Ragnarok!Thor and Love and Thunder!Thor just hurt me. The way he shattered that glass temple without a thought in the L+T introductory scene hurts my soul....

The only films I will defend as NOT disrespectful and out of character for Thor are “Infinity War” and, surprisingly enough, “Endgame”. (Both of which are unsurprisingly the ones NOT DIRECTED by our favorite daffodil man.)

But I mainly say that because Infinity War!Thor is in league with the original 2 Thor films, characterization wise, just with a darker tone, more fierce temper, and an entire insanity arc + revenge quest in tow... and Endgame I give a pass ONLY to Thor himself, and the things that he says and the actions that he takes. Mostly: the excessive drinking, food consumption as a stress reliever, and the concept of trying to escape his real world through a fantasy of some sort... (though I DESPISE the video game gag. It should have been actually anything else.)

The issue I take with Endgame is not Thor, but how the world and the characters surrounding Thor react to Thor from the first second to the last. They’re constantly making fun of him, belittling him, not including him in any team planning, blaming him for the snap, not trying to help him stop his blatantly obvious self destruction, are otherwise are openly and callously disgusted by or uncomfortable by his being there in the room for the aforementioned self-destruction, and that’s not talking about ABANDONING HIM FOR FIVE YEARS when everyone NOT NAMED TONY should have known better. (And I guess Clint because they weren’t ever close and Clint had his own heavy stuff going on.)

Steve should have checked in. He’s the leader and was Thor’s closest friend on the team. Natasha should have checked in, because she always USED to try and check in, and was taking charge of the team at the time. Bruce should have never left Thor completely in the first place, because nobody would understand how vulnerable, unsteady and in a dangerous place Thor would be in, mentally, emotionally and physically, than Bruce “The other guy spat it out” Banner, who let me remind everybody was THERE DURING THE LAST THREE TERRIBLE TRAGEDIES TO SEE IT FIRSTHAND. Rocket doing his own thing makes sense but then AT LEAST have him act with some level of patience towards Thor because he clearly was able to during Infinity War, and he would know better than anyone else (not named Bruce) how Thor is feeling and how awful it is.

And before anyone says “well they were all going though their own stuff and couldn’t be there for him” then I raise to you that Natasha was almost obsessively checking in with everyone and actively trying to keep things running, and Steve was hosting an emotional support and therapy group for post!snap victims in Falcon’s stead. Bruce was doing god knows what. The only person actually indisposed was Clint and he and Thor weren’t ever even close to begin with. And if you say “oh but they probably blamed him for the snap and that’s why” I just need you to really think about that statement and how awful that is, because they’re supposed to be his team and his friends. His earthen found family outside of the Jane crew. And even if they did blame Thor because they don’t know about Peter Quill and Gamora (who I’m sorry but I love Gamora; the snap is ENTIRELY her fault.) then that STILL doesn’t mean they can just ostracize and abandon the man and his people for five years because they’re mad.

I also take extreme issue with the cinematography team and the editing team for that film for deliberately making Thor the butt of the joke during the “how do we get the stones” scene in particular. (when Thor would have been the most valuable team asset. You know. Because he researched them and the glove made for them was made in one of HIS territories with HIS space metals.) and probably also that stupid “I think I’m having a panic attack” line because nobody says that. Otherwise, the man is drowning in his own despair at best and actively suicidal at worst because of everything that has ever happened to him the past 10 year phases 1-3 run, but yeah sure I guess that’s funny. And not unbearably heartbreaking.

[rustycopper4use]

It’s Always Been You pt11

(Kyoya x Male Reader)

Chapter eleven

-Big Brother Is A Prince!-

  He dust off your fitted police uniform, as the club waits around for the first wave of guests.

  Y/n kept glancing over to Kyoya, he looked too good in the costume. He like out a huff, decided to deal with these feelings like a rational person.

  By making fun of them, and turning them into jokes.

   Y/n whistle while checking out Kyoya.

“Now I understand why people like a man in uniform.” Y/n grinned, putting his hands on his hips.

“What do you want now?” He looked up from his infamous black notebook.

  “What? Can’t a man appreciate when another man is attractive-“ Y/n barely finished his sentence before breaking out into laughter.

  Before Kyoya could say anything a door opens.

 “Welcome!”

  In the doorway was a little girl, blonde hair in pigtails and the biggest blue eyes you’ve ever seen.

  Tamaki struts over to the girl and bends down to her eye level.

  “Oh my, what an unusually young guest! Well, glad you’re here, my little lost kitty cat!” He kindly smiled.

 “It’s a reverse harem!” The girl blurts out, pointing at the hosts.

   The club is shocked.

“It’s a reverse harem.” She repeated.

 Tamaki nervously chuckled, hitting his head.

 “That can’t be right! Maybe there’s still water in my ears from when I went swimming.”

Hikaru joins in also laughing uncomfortably.

  “Yeah water in the ears that must be it!”

“-because there’s no way this cute little girl said the words reverse harem.”

 “There’s debauchery here.” She bluntly spoke, shocking the club evermore so.

  “Yay there’s debauchery here!” She cheered.

 “You’re the glasses character!” She points towards Kyoya.

 “You’re his hopeless in love sidekick!” Y/n chokes on air.

 “Uhm, you’re the boy Lolita and the stoic type!” She looks at Honey and Mori.

 “Twincest! And the book worm”

She paused looking at Tamaki, a few minutes pass before tears welled up in her eyes.

 “Big brother?” She whispered.

 “Big brother!” She jumped into Tamaki’s arms.

 “My brother is blonde, you must be him!” She cheered.

 “You never told us about this!” Hikaru screamed.

 “-since when did you have a little sister!”

 “I don’t! I’m definitely an only chold, at least as far as I know.” Tamaki is now holding up the little girl.

 “The more I look at you, the two of you do look a lot alike! You’re both blonde after all!” Honey adds in.

 “I want to know if glasses character is superior to ‘Big brother’” Kyoya calmly states, watching Tamaki try and pull off the girl.

 “But does it really matter? I can’t believe she called me a bookworm.” Haruhi grumbled, at this clearly inaccurateassessment of her character.

Y/n is just staring into space, how did this little girl know.

 He was basically overheating.

  “I believe she broke Y/n.” Kyoya spoke waving his notebook infront of his face. But to no avail.

 “Excuse me, do you want to tell me your name little one?” He nervously murmured.

 “Kirimi.” She happily answered, without a care in the world.

 “Kirimi-chan-“ Tamaki spoke putting her down onto a couch.

 “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake, I’m really sorry but, I don’t have a younger sister.” He kindly spoke.

 “Are you sure-?” She begins tearing up.

 “You’re blonde just like me.” She whimpered. And Tamaki the weak willed fool folded.

 “I give in!” He lifts Kirimi in the air spinning her around.

 “As of this moment, I am your new big brother! You’re so cute!”

 “I know you get carried away by emotion, but don’t you think it’s irresponsible to make such empty promises.” Haruhi brings Tamaki back to earth.

 “Don’t you listen to that mean Haruhi. I’m not irresponsible! Come with me and I’ll look after you!” He counties to spin Kirimi in pure bliss.

 Haruhi still looking at the two leans over to Kyoya.

 “What do you think we should do, Kyoya-senpai?”

  “We should probably find out if she actually has a brother that goes to this school.” Kyoya states, still trying to break Y/n out of his daze.

 “Twins can you help me with Y/n.” He sighed walking over to Tamaki, as the twins smiled know exactly what to do.

 “I think Kirimi-chan got your character troupe perfectly, huh?” Hikaru slides next to Y/n.

 “-especially being in love with-“ kaoru is abruptly interrupted but a eerie door creeping opening, finally dragging Y/n back to reality.

 “Kirimi… Kirimi…” The cloak figure creepily whispered, through the crack in the door.

 The twins, quickly look over to the male.

 He pops his head out the door, and the man is not wearing his usual cloak, revealing his bright blonde hair.

  “Hey who the hell are you?” The twins rudely spoke.

 “He looks like a foreigner!” Honey jumps in.

 “What’s up with that? How come the door looks different all the sudden.” Haruhi furrowed her brows, at the lack of logic.

 “Oh Kirimi…” Nekozawa quietly mumbled, before a girl with a catlike appearance roughly puts on the cloak and wig on him.

 The club freezes realizing who it is.

 “Nekozawa-Senpai!”

“Master Umehito is terribly vulnerable to any kind of bright light. For that reason, if he doesn’t shroud himself in black he will fall victim to the brightness of the outside world and will undoubtedly collapse!” The maid cried.

 “Sounds like a someone we know.” Hikaru teased, poking Y/n.

 “I’m not that bad!” He rebuttals, to unbelieving Twins.

 “-on the other hand Kirimi, his sister, is frightened of dark dimly lit places.” The maid explained gestured towards the girl.

 “So this little girl is Nekozawa-senpai’s younger sister.” Haruhi pointed towards the bright eyed girl.

“You are quite insightful. Yes, that would be correct, sir.” The maid wipes a tear with a handkerchief.

 Tamaki places the little girl down.

 “Kirimi, so this is where you’ve been hiding.” Nekozawa laughed. Frightening the girl.

 “Brother! Save me from the monster!” She screeched, throwing herself back to Tamaki.

 “Please don’t be scared-“ He walked up to her.

 “I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is beelzenef-“ he holds up a cat hand puppet.

 “The Nekozawa family has worshipped him for generations.” He eerily smiled.

 “Y’know, I get the feeling she’s not scared of the puppet. Call me crazy, but I think it’s you.” She bluntly states.

 Kyoya nods in agreement.

“It’s probably your clothes, we’ll help you change okay.” The twins began pulling on his cloak.

 “No don’t do that! It’s far to bright, I may die!” Nekozawa pleads.

 “I know! Why don’t we just darken the room!” Honey smiled closing the Host rooms curtains.

 “Don’t do that I’m afraid!” Kirimi screamed.

 “Don’t worry little one.” Tamaki comforts the girl.

 “Either way someone’s unhappy.” Kyoya states the obvious.

 “No shit Sherlock.” You teased, which earned a glare from Kyoya.

 “Watch your language Y/n.” He scolded. Leaving Y/n with very strong feelings.

 “It’s a tragedy that these two siblings are such polar opposites. As a result they’ve became known as the Nekozawa family’s Romeo and Juliet!” The maid dramatically compared.

 “But Romeo and Juliet weren’t brother and sister, I think their situation is a little different.” Haruhi explains.

 “Now I’m not defending her weird comparison but, weren’t they cousins?” Y/n questioned.

 “Oh I’m well aware of that! To be honest it’s just something I just came up on the fly! Pretty impressive huh? I thought it might make it more dramatic.” She cheerful states.

 “Oh I see.” Haruhi blankly spoke.

 “We were sent by the masters family-“ the butler next to the girl bows.

 “To get our beloved Mistress Kirimi back home safely.”

 “Is the rest of the family-“

“As out of touch as the three of you are?” The twins uttered.

 “How dare you say such a thing! The Nekozawa’s are a distinguished family! They’re descendants of the Tokarev dynasty of Russia!” She gritted her teeth.

 “Tokarev huh?” Kyoya mummered.

 “Wait, you mean Romanov right?” Tamaki tilts his head.

 “There’s a legend that says every few hundred years, a Nekozawa child is born, a child who is destined to be possessed by the darkness exactly like our master Umehito, that legend may or may not be true.”

 “What do you mean in may or not be true?” Honey curiously looked at the girl.

 “Is it or isn’t?” The twins bored with this already.

 “Mistress Kirimi, fell in love with the handsome fairy tale prince of an older brother she seen in portraits, however with Nekozawas issues, master is unable to go near his sister without being shrouded in black. 

  Once she found out that her older brother was enrolled here, she decided to go looking for him. That’s brought her to your host club.” 

 “We’ve tried comforting her with stories with princely characters like her brother, but we ran out of stories. So recently, we’ve decided to start reading her shoujo manga that had princely characters in them! And I’m afraid she’s became completely addicted!”

 “Shoujo manga?” Haruhi gulped.

 “I see, so that’s where that came from.” Tamaki commented.

“Is there really debauchery in your Shoujo manga? But, Sashimi-chan is so young.” Haruhi worried.

 “Did you just say Sashimi?” Y/n grinned.

  “Man I thought I was bad at names.”

 “It’s kirimi.” Nekozawa reminded.

 “So Kirimi-chan doesn’t know that you’re her real older brother?” Haruhi turned towards him.

 “Yes, we’ve talked to her but she won’t believe us.” The maid mentioned.

 “That’s so sad. Well no wonder Neko-chan is upset.” Honey rubbed away his own tears.

 “It’s painful… that’s why, every single night I offer prayers in hopes one day Kirimi will embrace the darkness.” Nekozawa sadly spoke.

 “I think you’ve got it backwards buddy, you should try to get accustomed to the light.” The twins explained.

 “Come along Mistress Kirimi, it’s time to go home.” The staff begin to pull Kirimi away.

 “No! I’m not going with you!” She clings onto Tamaki.

 “I don’t wanna go home! I want to stay with my Big brother!” She cried.

 “Nekozawa..” Tamaki muttered, holding the crying girl.

 “Don’t worry about me, Suoh. All I want is for my sister to be happy make sure-“ he chokes out a sob.

 “-she gets the love she deserves.” He bolts out of the room crying.

 “Wait a minute!” Tamaki tried to stop him, but failed.

 “Siblings relations are a source of problems in any family.” Kyoya pushes up his glasses.

  “You and I would know the most of it, huh?.” Y/n spoke, taking a more serious tone.

 Tamaki looked over at the two.

 “Even so, I’m kinda jealous.” Haruhi states.

 They looked over to Haruhi.

“I grew up an only child, so I can’t really relate, but I imagine how tough it must be to have a sibling so different from you that you can’t even spend time together.” Haruhi explained.

Tamaki sets down Kirimi once again.

 “Is something wrong? Tell me big brother.” She looked up at Tamaki.

 “I’m sorry Kirimi-chan, I’m not the big brother that you’ve been looking for.” Tamaki softly replied.

 “Don’t worry-“ he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 “-he’s still out there. Believe it or not, you have a big brother that’s even more handsome than I am! And I promise you he’s a real prince.” 

 “But senpai-“ Haruhi starts.

“Once she stepped foot into this room Kirimi-chan became a guest of the host club. And-“ Tamaki runs a hand through his hair.

 “It’s our job to make all of our guests happy!”

 “It’s an absolute tragedy to see a brother and sister at odds this way. We have to do something to help them! Starting now operation 

 ‘Change Nekozawa-Senpai Into The Princely Character Of Kirimi-Chan’s Dreams’ is underway!”

 “Are you serious?” The twins asked.

 “You want to change Umehito from the prince of darkness to a prince of light? I don’t even know if that’s possible!” The maid gasped.

 “Senpai! Quit getting carried away by emotions! Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Haruhi scolded.

  “Shhh, I want to see how this plays out. Y’know, so shut it.” Y/n states.

“Oh have a little faith. Have you forgotten that we have an expert on our side? Someone knows the importance of changing characters.” Tamaki smirked.

 “Wait- you don’t mean?” The twins looked at each other.

 The floor rumble, gears turned and up comes Renge with her laughter.

  “Well speak of the devil.” Y/n rubbed his face, already feeling the migraine coming.

 After a few short minutes, the host club room was setup for the perfect training ground for Nekozawa, and Renge was once again taking role of coach, and yelling at him with a megaphone.

 Shooting Y/n nerves straight to hell, if this kept up he would end up having an overstimulated breakdown.

  He was now sitting at a table face down trying to muffle the noise.

 Mori was by a black borde writing down prohibited words.

 Honey was sitting on the table, while Kyoya was leaning against the table near Y/n.

  “Looks like Renge’s on top of things.” Kyoya notes.

 “Yep she’s on a roll.” Honey cheered kicking his feet, the movement only making Y/n feel worse, as a nauseating shiver ran up Y/n’a back.

 “Is Y/n-chan okay? Kyo-chan?.” Honey worriedly looked at the barely living Y/n.

 Kyoya looks at the state Y/n’s in.

 Another sound of screams pierced the room, causing Y/n to try and sink further to the table.

 “Did you bring your headphones today?” Kyoya quietly asked, not wanting to make you feel worse.

 You shakily tapped on the table twice.

 “Do you know where you put them?” 

 You hesitate for a second before tapping twice again.

 “Is it in its usual spot?” 

Two taps were followed after.

 “Do you want me to get them for you?” Two taps again was heard.

 Kyoya gets up, and heads over to one of the rooms to the side of the club, in the room was a bag, Y/n called it his emergency kit. He always supplied it with his headphones, countless fidget toys, and off to the side of the bag was the weighted blanket.

 He quickly grabs the headphones, and a purple fidget toy, with clickable buttons. An addition Kyoya himself added.

 Kyoya leaves the room and comes back to the table, he lightly taps the table next to where Y/n’s head is laying, he lifts his head up slowly. And grabbed the items from Kyoya.

  He puts on the headphones, muffling his surroundings. Kyoya placed the toy in-front of Y/n and went back to leaning on the table.

  “Kyo-chan? How did you know what Y/n-chan needed?” Honey whispered.

 “Hm? What do you mean?” 

“Well Y/n-chan tapped on the table and you knew exactly what it meant. And you were aware where it was?”

 “We’ve been in the same class for years, you think something like this hasn’t happened before?” Kyoya calmly explained pushing his glasses up.

 “I guess that make sense..” Honey mumbled in thought, feeling like his missing something.

 Lights began flashing, trying to get Nekozawa akin to the light.

 He screams, like a vampire to the sun. 

 “-but I thought you rejected the  occult?” Nekozawa questioned.

 “Occult fiction is good, occult fashion is not.” Renge explained as if it was obvious.

 “Oh is that so?” Tamaki tilts his head.

 “Don’t judge him! You’re the one always in cosplay.” the twins reminded.

 “Here you go boss!” The twins mischievously smiled. Pushing a mannequin with a wig, similar to Haruhi’s hairstyle, and wearing a cute pink ruffled bathing suit.

  “We got this one ready just for you!”

 “You should go ahead and confess your love to this Haruhi doll!” The twins explained.

  “You should teach him,by example.” 

Tamaki gulped and nervously closed his eyes.

 “H-Haruhi I-i…” he stammered.

 “Excuse me.” The real Haruhi interrupted.

  “H-Haruhi! You’re the real one! When did you get here?” He nervously tossed the doll off to the side.

  “Kirimi-chan came to the host club looking for you.” She glared at the doll now on the floor.

 “If you’ve got time to do disgusted things like this, surely you can spare some time to hang out with her for awhile!” She scolded.

 “Horrible? Disgusting?” He whimpered retreating to a corner.

 “Why don’t you keep her company Haruhi? What’s wrong, don’t like children?” The twins questioned.

  “Well no, it’s not that I don’t like them or anything.”

 “But she’s made me read about fifty volumes of shoujo manga to her over the last few days, and to my surprise? Those things are really full of reverse harems and debauchery.” She cringed at the memory.

 “Big brother?” Kirimi looks around the room.

 “This room is dark and scary!” She began crying.

 “Oh Kirimi-Chan!” She runs up to  the shaking girl.

 “I told you to wait for me in the other room.”

 Tamaki lifta Kirimi in the air, taking her out to the brightly lit hallway.

  “You see? Nothing to be afraid of?” Kirimi giggles.

 Nekozawa holds a flashlight to his face with new found determination. He flicks it on.

 And chants ‘I am a princely big brother’ to work up the willpower.

 “He did it!” Honey cheered.

 Mori claps.

“Nekozawa-senpai has come a long way! Now being able to flash a light directly in his face!” Renge teared up.

  “Bravo senpai, bravo!” The twins pull pop streamers, and loud bangs came off it.

  Y/n flinched, still overwhelmed by everything.

 Kyoya coldly glares at twins, causing the twins to nervously hide the now popped streamers behind their back, feeling a new sense of danger.

 “Hey look, Kirimi-Chan hasn’t left the courtyard yet.” Hikaru spoke looking out the window.

 “But there’s something down there with her. Oh, it’s just a cat.” Kaoru notes.

 Nekozawa gasped and rushed over to look out the window.

  “Your family sure does like cats.” Hikaru mentioned.

 “Even strays warm up to your family.”

 “They’re revered by our family it’s true, but Kirimi wouldn’t participate in something like that! Kirimi is afraid of animals, and most of all she’s afraid of cats!” He frantically looks around.

 He decided the sane thing to do was rush down the stai- wait no he jumps out the window.

 “But he’s not wearing his black cloak!” Haruhi states.

 The host club watched out the now shattered window. They looked at awe at the former goth’s bravery.

 Kyoya lets out a sigh. Causing y/n to move his head onto his arms, so he could look at him. He clicked the button on the fidget toy, to gain Kyoyas attention.

  “Nekozawa jumped out our window.” Kyoya explained. Y/n hummed, looking blankly at the broken glass scattered across the room.

 “Are you feeling better?” Kyoya spoke, writing the estimate expense of the windows.

 Y/n tapped twice.

 “Hm good.” He writes down in his book.”

 Y/n takes an inhale, and points towards the book.

  “My book? Do you want to say something?” Kyoya spoke.

  He tapped twice on the table.

 He flipped to an empty page.

“Please don’t try and look through it.” He teased before handing the book off.

  He ignore his comment and began writing on the page, he hands it back as Kyoya looks at it.

 His face softens for a second before adjusting his glasses.

 On the page were the words ‘Thank you’ written in messy handwriting.

 This rare moment of affection, was not ignored. Honey, finally connected the dots. 

 Leaving the twins, Mori and Honey. To be aware of the fondness for one another.

[stiricidewrites]

All the Things We’ll Leave Behind: ch 30, pt 15

Last bit of the chapter~

Like the last one, this one includes more explicit discussion of a potential threesome and boundaries.

Previously

~

lwj’s eyes flicked around the bedroom. He’d sat on the bed. He couldn’t stay in here long, not without making his friend feel worse than he probably already did. He hadn’t actually said if he’d changed his mind, lwj realized. Considering this—whether this would happen, whether he was okay with it happening—was useless, if jzxuan had decided it wasn’t worth it.

Wasn’t worth what?

Risking their friendship? Risking one of them catching feeling for the other? Risking something disrupting what they had between them now?

“I…” lwj trailed off, ears burning as images of jzxuan shirtless and stretching that morning, his ass flashing the doorway as he reached for the judgmental rabbit, of his scent, sweet as desert, flashed through his head.

He wasn’t even sure when he had smelled his friend like that. His brain could just be making shit up.

“We can discuss it,” his mate was saying, absently babbling to the world as lwj tried to sort through his feelings—not to mention bring his scent back under his control. “I just figured you should probably know all the details.” He glanced away, looking rather uncomfortable suddenly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have offered something like that without talking to you about it first. I mean! I told jzxuan you had to agree, but—”

His mate broke off, dragging a hand through his hair—or, trying to. His fingers caught on a handful of knots, and then he was swearing and tugging at them. He looked greatly in need of a shower, not to mention a proper night’s sleep.

“It is fine,” lwj said, trying to resist looking away, in case his mate noticed how his own ears burned. “I also… implied.”

wwx blinked at him, eyes wide and surprised, before everything about him sharpened. “Oh, yeah? Wanna tell me about it, baby?”

lwj felt even his cheeks begin to burn, a rare true blush. “I— we were wrestling and…” He trailed off, eyes shooting towards the bedroom door, drawn by the sour scent sweeping in from the living room. “I should go back.”

“Ah…” wwx’s eyes glittered, although a look of concern flashed through them. “Yeah. Don’t leave the little— Fuck! What is it?”

“You have a call,” someone said—his mate’s assistant, lwj assumed.

“Can’t it wait?”

“They have already been waiting.”

“Fuck,” wwx growled, hand once again trying and failing to run through his hair. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

lwj couldn’t see the assistant, but judging from the way his mate glared and added, “I swear on this entire fucking company, I will be out in a minute—maybe two,” he imagined the man had given his boss a look of general disbelief.

wwx sighed as a door closed, his attention returning to lwj. lwj liked his mate’s attention on him. “Go tell the little alpha whatever you like. I’m down for pretty much anything,” he said, giving lwj a cheerful wink, even as his expression filled with something… anticipatory. “And, feel free to do whatever the two of you want—save for, like, actual sex.”

lwj blinked back at his mate. “You don't… want to be here?”

“Well, yes and no?” his mate mused as he fiddled with things on his desk. “I want to be the first one to fuck you, and I want to be there if you decide to take the little baby alpha~”

lwj frowned at the older man, although wwx was so busy reordering paper that he didn’t seem to notice. Little baby alpha. He might be a little older than jzxuan, but not by much. Did wwx think of him that way as well? As a baby?

“Other than that, feel free to mess around with each other, if you like.” The man’s eyes shot back to his phone, pupils huge, and lwj hoped his next call wouldn’t be on video. It was rather obvious that wwx was… not in a professional mindset, at the moment.

“Just let me know, and feel free to send pictures—or better yet, videos.” A smile cut across wwx’s face. “Oh! And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you still owe me— WHAT!?”

wwx glared towards the door again, his assistant telling him that it had been several minutes, and he needed to stop having phone sex and work. “Asshole,” the other man muttered when his assistant was gone again.

“You should go,” lwj said, voice more than a little sad as he moved through the house. His eyes caught on jzxuan’s back, his friend still leaning against the kitchen island, his fingers tapping across the countertop. “I— We will talk to you later.” He watched as his friend’s shoulder’s tensed, something unsure but almost hopeful sneaking into the nervous scent he was releasing.

“Ah~” wwx sighed, something knowing flittering through his eyes. “Yes, we will talk later—all of us.”

“Goodbye, Xian-gege,” he said softly, coming to lean against the counter next to his friend. He turned slightly towards him. “Have you changed your mind?”

It took a moment for jzxuan to meet his eyes. A moment more for him to whisper, “No.”

[bleachbleachbleach]

For the Fanfic Writing Meme: 22, 23, and 25. Thanks!

Fic Writing Meme

Oh man, these ones were super challenging but very thought-provoking on my end!!

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

I am not by nature a linear or plot-driven person, and am very happy just kind of. Exploring. Rhizomatically. XDD Which can be difficult when it comes to writing because I feel like I don’t have very much reflex for thinking, "I need to know what happens next!" Instead I’m like, oh, would it be beneficial to this story if there were any sense of suspense or destination? It would??

In the plot sense, I feel like usually it’s not surprising to me or the reader where the fic ends; it just slots into whatever comes next in the canon. In the sense of where a character ends up at the end of a story, I feel like I usually have a proposition for where I think they’ll end up, or an image I'd like to end on. But I try not to nail it down because I believe in writing as exploration, and if I’m too rigid about where something’s going, too early, it ends up feeling canned, or over-directed. So at best I have a suggestion of an ending, and whether it stays the ending really depends on how the character(s) end up feeling about it as the scenes develop.

23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)?

When I was working on the Timey Wimey Train chapters of the Train Fic, their shape changed a LOT from draft to draft, and some of it related to content but a lot of it related to where the chapter breaks were going to fall. There were some iterations that left off on cliffhangers (oh look! suspense!) but I’d look at them and be like, LOL that’s dumb as hell. Cheap thrills! An episode teaser during Sweeps! In that particular instance, when I was choosing where the breaks would happen, the main things I was making choices about were things like, Does this break function as an effective suspense builder or red herring, or is it a disingenuous act? Is this a good faith deception, or is it not? Is any deception of any flavor actually beneficial here? (No.)

My impulse is to tell a full story in a chapter—to have thematic or narrative threads that build over the course of a chapter and reach a satisfying node (landing pad, even if not endpoint) by the end. But then I remind myself that a chapter is not a full story, and my trying to treat it as such goes right back to that sense of a thing being over-directed. My reminder to myself is that what I really want is a chapter that tells almost a full story—there’s some kind of narrative satisfaction; a sense that the ending is someplace different than the beginning; but I don’t actually want it to come full circle, or resolve, or answer more things than it asks.

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?

In the sense of like, dead dove-type things, there’s nothing that’s going to upset or bother me in that regard. I’m a big fan of being upset my media—things that can engender in my things other than 'happy' or 'sad'; I love things that make me feel characters' frustration, disgust, other forms of upset. So when if I’m upset about media it’s probably on purpose and I’m happy about it.

I’ve DEFINITELY felt bad about things I’ve written, because X happened, or because Y chose to do Z. And I’ll be like, wah, I’m sorry!! But either I can be like, but that is the story as it’s meant to be, and you know it, Character Y. Or I work on it until I end up as close to that feeling as possible.

The fic where I’ve felt that battle most strongly wasn’t for Bleach, but involved child abuse by someone who wasn’t ill-intentioned or villainous but under no circumstances should have been left with anyone’s children, and it’s kind of hard to say "well this is how it’s MEANT TO BE." Maybe it’s more of a "you know this happened, Character Y. You do."

For Bleach, it wasn’t upsetting so much as deeply uncomfortable, but the two sentences in the Train Fic where Hinamori’s like, well, Hitsugaya has a good memory and a gift for extrapolation and if he wanted to imagine her naked body he probably would not struggle to do so, but that she didn’t think he did—I was like WOW WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I HAVE NO DESIRE TO THINK ABOUT THAT LOL. Which was maybe an instance of narrator Hinamori telling *me* this is my story as it’s meant to be and you know it. XDDD

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Chapter Preview: It led her to a laundry room at the back of Casita, and ended at Bruno, who was examining the green arrow Casita was pointing at him. Leandra gulped. Between the argument they had on Friday, and the incident the day before, she had no idea what to say to him.

Ch 1 Prev Next Master List

Chapter 12 Uncomfortable Conversations

“So,” Rosalie started.

“So,” Leandra agreed.

After Bruno had walked them back to Rosalie’s place they had first focused on getting Julio fed and settled down for a nap. Then they made themselves some lunch and ate in tense silence. Finally, Leandra had told Rosalie the whole story.

“Honestly, all I wanted was to gather evidence, see if I could clear your name,” Leandra repeated, “but then, at that party, Marianna started showing all the same symptoms you had before leaving that night and… and yeah. Things spiraled.”

Rosalie sighed and wiped a couple tears from her eyes, she opened her mouth, closed it, then sighed again. Finally, voice cracking on her pain, she said, “You should have told me sooner.”

“I know.”

“You should have asked for help before things got this far.”

“I know.”

“Señora Madrigal believed me from the very beginning,” Rosalie said, “a-at the time I wasn’t… ready to admit to myself that it was probably Cicero who-. I should have-, i-it felt like-. I never told her about Cicero, but if you had spoken to her about this, she would have helped you investigate. She would have helped protect the others. A-and she definitely wouldn’t have let Pepa get involved with him.”

Leandra frowned, “I know, b-but you weren’t talking about it so I figured you didn’t want…”

“Si… si,” Rosalie sighed again, she put her head in her hands, “ay dios, I should have said something. I have been such a coward.”

“Rosalie, no,” Leandra moved around the table so she could pull her friend into her arms, allowing Rosalie to rest her head against her torso as she stroked her hair, “you were attacked and when you tried to get help, you were punished for it. None of this is on you.”

“He’s tried the same thing on three other women in the past year,” Rosalie argued, “three women who trusted him because they didn’t know any better. Because I never told anyone it was him that did this to me.”

“I never said anything either,” Leandra sighed, “I should have though. You’re right. I-I’ll go talk to Señora Madrigal tomorrow, she’s been investigating a little, but I’ll go- we’ll figure something out.”

“He admitted it, you know.”

“W-what?”

“He admitted it was him,” Rosalie held herself, tears streaming down her face, “I wanted to pretend it wasn’t. I wanted to pretend I didn’t know who did it. We’ve… known him our whole lives, we were never close but we played with him when we were all little. We were friends. How could he…? How could anyone do something like this, you know? But that time he spoke to me after church, he admitted what he did, offered to- to ‘do the right thing’. I told him… I told him that my child would be better off as a whore’s bastard than as his heir.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Leandra stared at her friend for a few seconds, “Rosalie, you are a total badass.”

“What?” Rosalie sniffled, looking up at her.

“You looked the guy who raped you straight in the eye and told him to go fuck himself,” Leandra summarized, “that’s totally bad ass.”

Rosalie laughed tearfully, shaking her head, “I just, I couldn’t let a man like him into my child’s life. I would rather… well. I have chosen to live the rest of my life as the town’s resident harlot rather than put my son through that sort of risk.”

Leandra squeezed her friend close, “I don’t think…”

“He won’t be satisfied to leave us alone forever,” Rosalie sighed, nodding minutely, “I know.”

“We need to do something about him. Stop him once and for all,” she said, standing straighter.

“Right. No more sitting around praying he’ll disappear,” Rosalie lifted her chin, “what are you thinking? And will it require my revolver?”

“I’m thinking that you have a baby to worry about,” Leandra pointed out, “let me take care of the leg work. You take care of your son and get ready to testify in front of the village. And we'll put the revolver down as a maybe.”

But Rosalie was already shaking her head, ignoring Leandra's attempt at levity, “You are not doing this alone. Talk to Señora Madrigal, tell her what I said. She’ll help, and hopefully keep you from starting any more food fights.”

She blushed, laughing sheepishly, “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“No, it couldn’t,” she sniffed, “and clear things up with your boy. I expect to be kept abreast of all things to do with his godly body.”

They laughed together, Leandra taking the teasing in stride, even coming up with a few new ways to describe Bruno’s beauty. Rosalie cackled loudly when Leandra described Bruno as an “identity crisis flavored lollipop” and almost woke Julio, so they tried to quiet themselves down, shushing each other with wide grins.

Rosalie eventually asked, “Do… do we know if he did this to anyone before me?”

“Huh, y’know something, I have no idea,” Leandra wracked her brain, but she honestly hadn’t paid much attention to Cicero until he’d started pursuing Rosalie. And even then, she obviously hadn't been obsessed with catching him until he hurt her best friend. He’d had a reputation for skirt chasing ever since they were teenagers, but Leandra was pretty sure it hadn’t been quite as bad as it had been this past year.

“Is it horrible that a part of me hopes I’m not the first,” Rosalie whispered, then rushed to add, “It’s not that I want somebody else to be hurting like I am, I just… it would mean that this, all this horrible stuff, isn’t because of me.”

“It isn’t. It’s because of him,” Leandra said firmly. Rosalie grunted and nodded, but otherwise didn’t respond. Leandra gave her a bit of time to add more if she so chose, then changed the subject again, bringing up Bruno’s theory that Rico was actually a racist. 

Rosalie accepted the subject with a wry grin, and they spent the rest of the afternoon talking literature.

Across the valley, Bruno was sitting in Pepa’s room, watching her pace back and forth while a hurricane raged around her. Some of it leaked out into Encanto, but thankfully it was no more troublesome than a regular thunderstorm. The farmers would be happy, it would be good for the crops.

He still didn’t know exactly what was happening, but there was no mistaking who Pepa was angry at this time.

“Joder!” she cursed, for what was probably the twentieth time, “I should have known he wouldn’t give up that easy.”

“Pepa, it’s ok,” Julieta soothed, “It isn’t your responsibility. You didn’t want to be anywhere near him, which is perfectly understandable, and you don’t have to worry about it. Bruno is protecting Señorita Lopez, right Bruno?”

“Uh, si. Claro. Definitely,” Bruno nodded. Would it be too awkward to ask for an explanation at this point? If he told them he didn’t understand what was happening then they’d want to know why he was “protecting” Reina, and then he’d have to explain that he’d assumed Reina was the villain of this story, which probably wouldn’t go over well because…

“Gracias Bruno! Gracias,” Pepa breathed, her bottom lip began to wobble, “I- ay dios, please promise me again you won’t stop. I-I know you wouldn’t, you would never just abandon somebody in need, b-but please, it makes me feel so much better knowing you’re looking out for her. After what she did for me, it’s the least we can do.”

Because everybody else saw Reina as the hero of the piece.

“Claro,” Bruno nodded some more. 

Just nod and agree, he told himself, pretend you’re not completely lost, things might start to make sense eventually.

He threw a bit of salt over his shoulder and knocked on the wooden chair he was sitting on.

Pepa smiled shakily at him, then whipped around and began ranting about what she would do to Cicero if she thought she could get away with it. Bruno glanced at Julieta and found her nodding in agreement. Seriously, what did Cicero do?

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been illegal, because the last time somebody had done something illegal they’d been banished from Encanto.

Or at least, the last time somebody had done something dangerous and illegal they were banished. The last person to do something not dangerous and illegal was some kid who wrote insults all over his ex-girlfriend's house. He just did community service.

But the point stood, Cicero wasn’t banished (or doing community service), ergo, he must not have broken the law.

However, Bruno knew there was a whole bunch of stuff a man could do to hurt a woman without technically breaking the law. Looking back on the night when Reina had thrown her food on Pepa, Reina had whispered something in Pepa’s ear while Cicero was bent over laughing, or in other words, when he was less likely to notice. She’d only started pretending the food thing was an accident when Cicero had recovered from his mirth. So, given the way everybody was acting now, she’d probably whispered some sort of warning to Pepa.

A warning that was very quick, but immediately damning, since Pepa used the food as an excuse to leave the party.

“I wanted to get him away from Pepa,” Reina had said, not “I wanted to steal him away” but “I wanted to get him away”. So, Reina must have felt that Pepa was in some sort of danger? But assault is illegal, if Reina knew Cicero was going to hurt Pepa then he would be banished.

Something that’s not illegal, but is very hurtful… infidelity? Had Reina caught him cheating on Pepa? No, because everybody wanted Bruno to keep protecting Reina. Cicero must pose some sort of threat, but not an illegal one, so…? 

Bruno’s head hurt.

He switched angles, focusing on Reina’s actions since this whole thing began. Apparently, she was motivated by her anger over whatever Cicero had done to Rosalie. Bruno’s first thought was that Cicero had been the one who drugged Rosalie, but that couldn’t be it, because again, it couldn’t be something illegal or they’d kick Cicero out of Encanto.

Reina had said Cicero was playing a game, what game?

Reina had driven Pepa away from Cicero, but had yet to expose her hatred for the man. In fact, she had allowed Bruno to believe that she was interested in Cicero. Was she playing whatever game Cicero was? Did she plan to beat him at his own game in order to get revenge for Rosalie? Why hadn’t she told Bruno the truth?

He sighed. 

If he was going to be honest with himself, he was a little hurt that Reina had essentially lied to him so she could use him for whatever she was doing. If she had told him that she had only been trying to warn Pepa and she needed protection from Cicero, he would have helped her. Instead she chose to mislead and manipulate him.

Then she had the nerve to call him an idiot for not seeing through her misdirection.

Now he found himself in this weird place where he felt grateful that she had protected his sister, guilty for jumping to conclusions, and embarrassed that he’d been so easily conned. Not to mention worried that Reina maybe thought he couldn’t be trusted to stick up for a woman in need?

She had said she always thought he was a push over, had she meant that? What about when she’d said she enjoyed his company? Had she meant any of the nice things she said about him?

He suddenly found himself questioning every interaction he’d ever had with her, trying to parse out what she actually thought of him. Then he scowled at himself for even caring what somebody who had lied to and used him thought. Of course, if she’d gone out of her way to protect Pepa then she was probably a good person, and if she was a good person then he didn’t want her to think he was a coward, or an idiot. 

His head hurt again.

Ugh, and he had just promised Pepa that he would continue to protect Reina, so it’s not like he could just avoid her. He would have to talk to her and it would be both awkward and painful. 

Horrid.

Speaking of awkward and painful, Alma was not having a good Sunday. She found herself sitting at the Gutierrezs' tea table, on the veranda overlooking the grape vines, having a deeply uncomfortable conversation with Cicero’s mother. She couldn’t afford to show all of her cards, not yet, but something needed to be done to protect the young women of Encanto. Which is why Alma found herself hedging and sympathizing when she wanted to be yelling and raging.

“I know he likely doesn’t mean any harm,” Alma felt like she may gag on the words, like she was throwing up bile rather than speaking, “but you know how eager young men can be. I fear he’s coming across a bit more crass than he probably realizes. After Pepa told me she felt Cicero was only interested in using her, I spoke to a few of his other recent flames and they said much the same thing.”

Señora Gutierrez sighed, “Oh my poor boy. He really is too passionate for his own good, and he just hasn’t been the same since that woman cheated on him.”

Alma took a sip of tea to wash down her first response to that, the prevailing rumor that had spread in the wake of Rosalie being found in the barn was that she had been dating Cicero and made up the rape story in order to cover the fact that she'd cheated on him. This rumor had been started by Cicero himself, but spread and encouraged by his mother.

Rosalie's insistence that they had never dated fell on deaf ears.

“We all go through heartbreak, I understand your son must be quite hurt, but perhaps it is time he looked for a constructive outlet for his pain. He is only making life harder for himself, in the long run.”

“You’re probably right,” she nodded, still looking heartbroken for her poor, poor, boy, “his father is already quite upset about the scene at the church today. Cicero promised us he was going to stay away from Rosalie, b-but I guess he just couldn’t take seeing her every Sunday anymore.”

“Indeed, multiple people saw him approach the young women and start the interaction,” Alma couldn’t help but point out, then she tacked on, “his pain must be getting the best of him. Maybe you can encourage him to spend more time helping here at the winery, I’m sure spending a bit more time with you and his father would help the young man.”

Señora Gutiérrez smiled at the suggestion, but shook her head, “I don’t know how he would take it, he is such a strong willed boy.”

Alma forced herself to smile sympathetically, it was the only way to hide her sneer. It was no secret that Cicero's mother was the one who spoiled the boy. His father was a good man, who had carried an injured stranger (who would later become his father-in-law) away from the raiders and into the village. Señor Gutiérrez was a man who believed strongly in kindness, discipline, and justice. He was a man who believed in doing what was right simply because it was right, and atoning for even the slightest wrongs you commit.

Señora Gutiérrez was a woman who had once dreamed of having five kids and thirty grandchildren, only to struggle to get pregnant even once. Cicero was the only child she would ever have, and so she doted on him endlessly. She had always had a bad habit of protecting Cicero from the consequences of his actions, and cajoling her husband into doing the same.

“Señora, if I may,” Alma put her cup and saucer down and gave the other woman a firm but compassionate look, “I know you love your son very much, and you would never want to cause him unhappiness, but if he continues as he has been he will only create more problems for himself. I take it you want grandchildren one day? To see your son happily married? What sort of prospects do you believe he will have if he continues to nurture his current reputation?”

Señora Gutiérrez also put her cup down, staring into it contemplatively, she sighed, “I see your point.”

“I am sorry, I am, I know it isn’t easy to watch your children struggle,” Alma reached across the small table and patted her hand, “but please, for the sake of both the village and your son, you need to rein him in. Help him. At least until he’s on the other side of his… heartbreak.”

“I will speak to my husband, he- we will figure something out.”

Alma nodded, she wanted sorely to leave that instant and check on Pepa, the thunder was distant but the rain poured just past the overhang. Unfortunately, Alma needed to seem unbothered, non-threatening, if she was going to keep the Gutiérrezs’ collective ears. She needed Cicero to think he was getting away with his crimes. So, she put on a cheerful smile and changed the subject to something lighter. Something inane.

She sat there having tea with the mother of the man who had tried to rape her daughter and, for one of seven times in her life, wished Pepa would make a hurricane.

Sadly for her, Felix showed up at Casita that evening with a basket of treats from Better Pastry Chef. He delivered them to Pepa with a quiet smile and told her he thought her storms were amazing, but he hated that they meant she was upset. He sat with her as she complained about the hoops women had to jump through in order to protect themselves, and offered no solutions, no promises, only a few jokes to lift her mood.

Monday morning saw not one, not two, but three rainbows spread over Encanto.

Leandra stopped Felix when she ran into him on her way to Casita and asked, “Did you do this?”

“I hope so,” he responded, grinning dreamily at the sky. Leandra couldn’t help but smile at him, his crush on Pepa was a welcome relief from her own troubles.

“She really likes herbal scents,” Leandra told him, “says they remind her of afternoons spent playing in Julieta’s room. You know, in case you’re thinking of changing your cologne or buying her gifts or something.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but accepted the teasing with a good natured smile, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Leandra wished him the best and continued on her way. As promised, she headed straight for the Madrigal residence to talk to Alma. Casita opened the front door for her before she could even knock and greeted her by waving a light fixture at her.

“Hola,” she waved back, “Is Señora Madrigal in?”

The light fixture turned side to side.

“Oh,” she chewed on her lip, should she go and come back later? She didn’t really want to make the trek all the way home just to return. Besides, the tiles under her feet kept scooting her further  into the house inch by inch, “I’m guessing you want me to stay a while.”

The light fixture bobbed up and down.

Leandra smiled, “Alright, I’ll stay. By the way, how have you been, Casita? It’s been a while.”

She’d only ever “met” Casita twice before all this started. There had been an illness sweeping through the livestock of Encanto and her father had sent her to ask Bruno how many of their goats would be left when the disease was done with them. Bruno had disappeared into his room and came back with the requisite glowing green tablet which she took to her father. The next year was hard, but not as hard as it would have been if they weren't properly prepared, so her father had sent her back to give Bruno a thank you basket full of cheeses.

She’d snuck in a few bars of the first soaps she had ever made.

The light fixture twisted itself so it roughly resembled somebody holding up their thumb.

“Good, glad to hear it, or um, see it.”

Some tiles clattered merrily at her, and she hoped that was just a general expression of happiness and not a sentence. She had heard that Señora Madrigal could hold entire conversations with Casita, something that Leandra assumed was due to her being the candle holder, because nobody else in the village spoke house.

The tiles scooted her a few more inches inside, drawing her attention, “Oh, um, do you want me to go somewhere?”

With a great clatter, Casita laid out a path of green tiles towards a corridor that passed behind the kitchen. She hesitated a moment too long and received a few more urging scoots, so she sighed and followed the path. It led her to a laundry room at the back of Casita, and ended at Bruno, who was examining the green arrow Casita was pointing at him. 

Leandra gulped. Between the argument they had on Friday, and the incident the day before, she had no idea what to say to him.

He hadn’t noticed her yet so she began to back out of the room, only for Casita to move the tiles under her feet and force her forward. She just barely kept from falling onto Bruno as he gaped at her, clearly surprised to see her.

For a brief moment Bruno worried that Casita had somehow kidnapped Leandra for the express purpose of forcing her to explain everything to him. Then she opened her mouth.

“Uh hola,” she said, laughing nervously, “I uh, w-was looking for your mother but um-.”

The house seemed to dance around them, Casita saying something that Bruno only partially understood and Leandra didn’t catch at all. She looked to him to translate but he just stared evenly back at her.

He was pretty sure Casita had said something along the lines of, "Kiss and make up!" and Bruno didn't feel like explaining why his magic house might want him to kiss her.

He sighed and turned back to the laundry in the wash basin, “Hola.”

The shutters drooped, looking like they were pouting. Leandra wasn’t usually the sort to feel embarrassed or be affected by awkward situations but now she found herself wondering what to do with her hands, or whether or not she should back away from Bruno. 

She decided to stay where she was in case Casita was determined to keep her in that spot. Even if it was a bit closer to Bruno than was currently comfortable.

“So,” Leandra said.

“So,” Bruno agreed.

There was a tense pause.

“What do you actually want with Cicero?” Bruno scrubbed at a small red stain on one of Julieta’s blouses. It came out easily enough. Probably bell pepper juice from Saturday’s dinner.

Leandra’s shoulders drooped, she’d figured this question would be coming, but she hadn’t really expected Bruno to be so blunt about it, “I want him to stop hurting people.”

“And me? What do you want from me?”

“I-,” she hesitated, there was a long list of things she wanted from Bruno but now probably wasn’t the best time for flirting, “I guess I just wanted to avoid interacting with Cicero without having to reveal I know what he’s done.”

Bruno sighed and nodded, without actually looking at her.

“So… does this mean you know what’s going on? With Cicero, I mean.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You’re free to tell me,” he pointed out, giving her a side-long look.

She grimaced, “Not really.”

He paused, turning to frown at her. She found herself bizarrely struck by the fact that he had freckles on his nose. How had she never noticed before?

“It’s not really my place to tell you, it’s Pepa’s. I can’t go telling people her business. Especially not her own brother, it would be a massive overstep.”

He scowled at the laundry in the wash basin. She had a point. But did she genuinely care about respecting Pepa’s privacy, or was she just pretending so she wouldn’t have to tell Bruno the truth?

“You could ask her,” she pointed out.

Bruno scowled harder, another really good point. If he just got over his embarrassment and admitted he had no clue what was going on with Cicero, Pepa would tell him.

“I promised her I would keep protecting you from him.”

“Oh. I- you don’t have to. You’re clearly not comfortable with the situation.”

He frowned, so she did  think he would put his own comfort over her safety. Ouch.

“Well, yes, but that’s only- you lied to me, you let me think- so you could- could, what? Get revenge on Cicero for whatever he’s done,” Bruno huffed, “but whatever. Whatever! Pepa is really worried about you and I promised I would handle it so I’ll just- let’s just not talk.”

Leandra frowned at his back, “Hold on, you would rather be angry at me for playing along with your assumptions than have one, one, awkward conversation with your sister?!”

“And calling me an idiot for not seeing through your, your… little scheme. Don’t forget that part.”

Leandra scowled, “Well maybe I wouldn’t call you an idiot if you weren’t acting like one!”

“How am I-?!”

“You’re the one who came barreling up to me and making accusations! Did you talk to your sister about what happened at all?”

“Of course I did!”

“Really?! Because I stopped by two days after the quinceanera and offered to replace Pepa’s dress. How did you not find out about that?! And! And we spent the past few weeks together getting to know each other, you didn’t once think ‘Gee, she sure is a lot less petty and boy obsessed than I thought she’d be’? Do you know me, at all? For God’s sake Bruno, do you even know my first name?!”

“Well…”

“And then, then we hit one obstacle, one little bump in the road and you’re all ‘I don’t want anything from you’ and 'I'm just here until I get what I want'. Which was just stupid! Not to mention a total contradiction! I thought we- that you… whatever, obviously you would rather assume the worst of me than- whatever.”

“Now hold on, if you don’t want people making assumptions about you then, hey, gee, here’s an idea, maybe correct them! You could have told me I was wrong.”

“How was I supposed to know that?!”

“What do you mean how were you supposed to know that?! Do you not know how to tell the truth?”

“No, I mean, I had no idea why you had no idea what was happening, what if Pepa hadn't told you for an actual reason?” Leandra pointed out, “Again, this isn’t my business. It is not my place to decide who does and doesn’t know what happened to Pepa.”

Bruno frowned at her, his brows slowly rising from a scowl as a horrible thought crawled up from the back corner of his brain.

“I mean, no matter what I did, even if I pretended to apologize to Pepa from the start, my options were to lie to you or breach Pepa’s privacy. At least this way I didn’t have to deal with Cicero slobbering on me all day!”

Bruno gulped. He didn’t respond to her, he just turned back around and began scrubbing at a stain that only he could see. It dawned on her, a bit too late, the implications of what she’d just said.

Leandra grimaced, mentally kicking herself.

She really, really needed to learn to think things through when she was emotional. It was all well and good to make a plan when you're feeling even minded, but she was learning that sometimes you can't avoid making a decision (or having a delicate conversation) until you had calmed down.

Which is how you end up misleading a really great guy, calling him an idiot when he didn't see through the deception, then accidentally implying that his sisters don't trust him.

“Bruno, I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding. Does Pepa even know you don’t know? I’ve never gotten the chance to ask her. She probably doesn’t have any problem with-, I-I’m sure if you just asked her, she’d tell you.”

He continued to not say anything, he didn’t have to, they both heard the question “But what if she doesn’t?” loud and clear.

Eventually, he stopped scrubbing and just stared at the brush. What if Pepa and Julieta were fully aware that he didn’t know what was happening? What if they’d left him in the dark on purpose? Did they not trust him?

No! No. They did, they had to. They were trusting him to protect Reina. It wasn’t that-. They trusted him. He shook his head to send those thoughts rattling back to their dark corner.

He scowled at the sink basin, “None of this changes the fact that you manipulated me for whatever stupid game you and Cicero are playing.”

“I’m not playing games, Cicero is dangerous!”

Bruno whipped around, “If he’s that dangerous then why didn’t you just ask for help instead of lying to me?!”

“If the truth matters that much then why don’t you just talk to your family?!” she retorted.

They glared at each other for what felt like forever.

Horribly, Bruno’s eyes were drawn to her lips, which pouted back at him. He immediately returned his gaze to her eyes, but she had already noticed. She looked from his eyes to his mouth and back again, then she huffed and took a step back, turning minutely away from him. For some reason that small rejection hurt more than Bruno expected it to.

Leandra held herself to help stave off the sudden temptation to kiss him. He may have been pissing her off but he was nevertheless, rather unfortunately, a very handsome man. Especially when his anger straightened his spine and kept his shoulders from drooping.

If she really thought about it, and she rather wouldn’t while she was still angry, she sort of liked this side of Bruno. A side that stood up for himself instead of quietly accepting others' scorn.

And deep down, she wondered if Bruno would feel comfortable arguing with just anybody. Was this a sign of trust? Or disdain?

“Bruno,” she said, not content to live in this painful moment forever, “I can understand if you don’t trust me, I can. But! But you don’t get to cast judgment on my actions when you won’t even try to learn the full story. If you talk to Pepa and decide you’re still angry at me, fine, that’s fair. I... haven't handled this well, I know. But until then, I don’t want to spend time with somebody who just assumes the worst of me because it means they don’t have to step outside their comfort zone.”

Bruno opened his mouth to say something, he had no idea what, he was just as likely to continue the argument as he was to apologize. Before he could figure out which it would be he heard his mother call out a greeting. 

Leandra heard it too, she sighed, and turned to walk away from him but didn’t get past the laundry room doorway. She opened her mouth to say something else, but closed it, and left Bruno to his laundry.

[anonymousewrites]

There's a Will; There's a Way (Book 4) Chapter Five

Dazai Osamu x Fem! Reader

Chuuya Nakahara x Fem! OC

Chapter Five: Reunions and Confrontations

Summary: Mori has to deal with the consequences of his actions. Unfortunately, he doesn't get his ass beat.

            “Akira.”

            “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Eleven years, if I’m not mistaken,” said Akira coolly.

            (Y/N) felt extremely uncomfortable just sitting in the same room during the father-daughter reunion.

            “You are correct,” said Mori calmly, an impressive feat in the face of what was happening.

            “How are you?” asked Akira, smiling with faux brightness. “I’m sure we have a lot to catch up on between your criminal misdeeds and my trauma!”

            Mori looked down at her dangerously. “I will remind you that you’re currently my guest, and unlike the Armed Detective Agency, no deal has been made for your safety.”

            Chuuya’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fists. A subtle red glow appeared around his hands. He couldn’t cross his boss, but he cared about Akira. He didn’t appreciate her being threatened.

            “I don’t need anyone to make deals for me,” hissed Akira. “And I can handle anyone you throw at me. You might have abandoned me because I wasn’t ‘useful’ to you and ‘weak,’ but you were very wrong. I’m stronger than you could imagine. So come on, stop fucking around.”

            “Watch your tongue,” said Mori.

            “Or what? You’ll throw me out and abandon me again?” Akira pretended to think. “Oh, wait, you already did that. You need something new! How about trying to kill me? That would be exciting!”

            “It would be a waste of time to kill you,” said Mori scornfully.

            Akira shrugged. “Probably.” She smirked. “But only because you would take a long time fighting me just to fail. I’d win.”

            “I gave you a warning.” Mori’s tone was dark and dangerous. “I won’t give you another.”

            “Spoken like a father! Unfortunately—” Akira’s eyes turned pitch black “—you lost that title eleven years ago. You know, when you abandoned me because I wasn’t useful to you.”

            The tension was palpable. It felt like a literal storm was brewing between Mori and Akira. Chuuya’s eyes flitted between the two, as did (Y/N)’s. Both had abilities suited to stopping a battle should one begin. Yosano was clenching her fists angrily, fully prepared to fight with Akira. She, too, knew the pain of Mori’s guidance. She wanted revenge for all he’d done as well. Jun’ichiro and Kenji remained still and quiet. The entire room was on edge.

            Suddenly, the door opened, and Hirotsu walked in. Every head turned to him. He bowed.

            “Boss. Pardon the interruption,” he said, holding out a radio. “This radio was left in the entrance.”

            Everybody relaxed slightly as they listened in. Even Akira calmed, though that might have been Chuuya reaching out to touch her hand for a moment. (Luckily for the pair, (Y/N) seemed to be the only one who noticed. She also had a suspicion that this confrontation was only the beginning. Even if interrupted now, Mori and Akira would have to argue talk things over.)

            “Yo! How are you, old sport?” A man’s voice came over the radio.

            Fitzgerald?! thought (Y/N) in surprise.

            “It’s been a while! I’d like to laugh at your difficult situation, but there’s no time, so I’ll keep it brief,” said Fitzgerald. “I’ve sent the tiger boy to you.”

            “Atsushi!” exclaimed (Y/N) happily.

            “He’s alive!” Kenji and Jun’ichiro grinned.

            “…Why would that young man come here?” questioned Mori.

            “He made a deal,” explained Fitzgerald coolly. “To use a healing ability for my sake. In exchange, I’ll give him information that can revive the Detective Agency. The meeting will take place in twenty minutes on fifth street.”

            “Wait a minute,” said Mori. “How do you know about this hideout—.”

            “Goodbye.” Fitzgerald hung up.

            “…How odd,” murmured Mori.

            “Odd?” asked Hirotsu.

            “Yes, how did he even discover this hideout?” remarked Mori.

            “It’s not that hard to get that type information,” said Akira, rolling her eyes. “If your smart, that is. But even so, Fitzgerald has the Eyes of God, which is much more reliable.”

            Mori glanced at her. “If he knew about this place, he should’ve made a deal with the military instead. There’s a better payoff from helping the powerful ‘Hunting Dogs’ rather than the weak Detective Agency. The Fitzgerald I know is the strong type. He’s a man who supports the winning side. This deal—Isn’t it a trap?”

            (Y/N) stood up. “It doesn’t matter. We have to get Atsushi and Kyouka.”

            Yosano nodded. “We’ll take any risk.”

            (Y/N) walked out the door, heading through the winding corridors towards the outside. As Yosano to the door, Mori blocked her path subtly.

            “Yosano…” he said warningly.

            “Go to hell, there are more important things at stake then getting a new puppet,” hissed Akira, placing herself in front of Yosano.

            The female doctor glared at Mori defiantly. “I’m saving the Agency.”

            They went past him without a second glance. As Akira passed Chuuya, however, she paused. She looked into his eyes briefly before they flitted to the ground. Before anything else could happen, Akira continued forward and pretended nothing had transpired. Chuuya watched her walk off, trying to think of a believable excuse to follow.

            Jun’ichiro and Kenji glanced at each other. They were worried about (Y/N) and Yosano’s willingness to go right into a trap. They hurried past the mafiosi after the women, who were farther ahead.

            Trailing behind (Y/N), Akira and Yosano and walked through the halls.

            “You were…impressive back there,” said Yosano.

            “Well, the asshole deserved it,” said Akira shortly.

            Yosano stopped, causing Akira to as well. The doctor looked down.

            “Do you dislike me, too?” asked Yosano. “I mean, I…I never came back for you. I never looked for you after joining the Agency. Don’t you blame me for that?”

            “I’m no psychologist, but I think that you’re blaming yourself for something,” quipped Akira.

            “I don’t like to look back on the past,” said Yosano. “But…when I saw you, I was shocked.”

            Akira raised an eyebrow. “Well, it was fifteen years ago. And unlike me, you haven’t really kept up-to-date on my life,” chuckled the red-eyed woman. It was halfway between a joke and the pointing out of a betrayal.

            “I’m serious,” snapped Yosano. She took a deep breath. “I know people change as they get older, but you have the same look in your eyes as I do. You went through a lot, like I did. And I’m sorry for not finding you. Maybe then you wouldn’t be—.”

            “Be what? Damaged? Broken?” hissed Akira. “I get it. I’m fucked up. Trust me, I know.” She sighed and pinched her forehead. She didn’t want to be angry at the first person who had been her friend. “Look, it isn’t your fault.”

            “It still feels like you don’t like me,” remarked Yosano. “You wouldn’t even let me heal you with my ability. Even if you do heal quickly…it does suggest there’s more.”

            “I don’t…I don’t like being reminded of what your ability is.” Akira chuckled bitterly. “It has to do with Mori.”

            Yosano frowned.

            “You became important to him because of your ability. You got to spend time with him. He adored teaching you. He has a fucked-up way of showing it, but you became the daughter he wanted.” Akira sighed. “I was jealous of you. And I’m trying to get over that, but…seeing as he still wants you on his side more than anyone else…it’s going to take some time.” She turned away. She didn’t want to continue the conversation any longer.

            “Dr. Yosano! (Y/N)!” called Jun’ichiro, running up with Kenji.

            Yosano turned while (Y/N) walked back to meet them.

            “Are you guys seriously going to walk straight into a trap?” asked Jun’ichiro concernedly.

            “If it gives us a chance to find Kyouka and Atsushi, then yes,” said (Y/N) firmly.

            “Dr. Yosano’s doing it so she doesn’t have to join the Port Mafia, isn’t she?!” challenged Jun’ichiro. “Then…let me join instead. I’ll do it for you. Just tell me why you can’t do it, and I will.”

            “Jun’ichiro…” (Y/N) glanced at Yosano, who was clearly uncomfortable.

            “What happened between you and that mafia boss?” asked Jun’ichiro. “Does it have to do…with the Hunting Dogs’ talk of the ‘Angel of Death?’ ”

            “Yeah…” admitted Yosano. She smiled. “I suppose I can’t have anyone fussing over me. All right. I’ll tell you as we walk. Long ago, the president and Mori were friends, part of the ‘Tripartite Scheme.’ But now they’re enemies. Why do you think that is? It’s because of me.”

            (Y/N), Akira, Kenji, and Jun’ichiro listened intently as Yosano told them of her time in the war. Occasionally, they gasped or frowned as they considered the situation in which Yosano was placed. It gave an explanation and look into her mind. At the same time, it was heartbreaking.

            She was a nursing assistant to Mori, a doctor at the time, on a carrier base. She was constantly healing the troops, which allowed them to continuing fighting long after other groups would have to retreat. One particular man became her friend, even gave her the gold butterfly pin she wore today. Yosano eventually began to understand that she wasn’t just there to heal men as a medic, she was there under some pretense for Mori to try to create some sort of “immortal regiment.” Life in the war became tougher and tougher, especially for an eleven-year-old constantly using her ability. Mori pushed her farther, physically and psychologically. When she didn’t want to heal someone so they could go home, he’d put them on the brink of death to force her. Yosano began to feel hopeless, listless. The final straw was when the man she’d become friends with…ended his own life in order to escape the constant cycle of death and destruction. Yosano’s mind was truly broken.

            After the war, she was taken to a hospital and locked away. Yosano didn’t care. The three years blended together. The person who arrived to take her out was Mori. Luckily, Fukuzawa arrived to fight for her freedom. That was when she met Ranpo and got back some of her hope for the future. That was when Dr. Yosano of the Armed Detective Agency was born.

l

            Inside a hidden prison, two men hung in suspended cells opposite each other. Fyodor and Dazai met once again.

            “Shall we have a super happy chit-chat about our problems?” called Fyodor, supremely bored.

            Dazai stared inexpressively at him. He was willingly to put on a friendly façade, but with everything the Russian had put (Y/N) through, it would be tough.

            “So it’s finally happened! I, Dostoevsky, am the prime-time host of the vert first ‘Super Happy! Problem Discussion!’ ” said Fyodor.

            “I’m going to need you to hold on for a minute,” said Dazai.

            Fyodor cocked his head. “What is it?”

            “…” Dazai stared at him. “What the fuck.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Fyodor.

            They were both quiet.

            “Hm.” Dazai considered. “A discussion. That’d definitely be impossible without a chance like this.”

            “I’m grateful for your quick understanding,” said Fyodor. His eyes darkened. “Thanks to the nature of my mind, I can read the thoughts of my opponents. But that means I can’t ‘discuss’ with others unless my partner has an intellect equal to me own, like my angel.” His tone became more lighthearted. “So this is a chance to exchange thoughts on our problems.”

            Dazai mouth twitched into a momentary frown at the mention of (Y/N). He knew that she was incredible clever, there was no doubt. However, it was irksome that Fyodor still obsessed over (Y/N). It was even more aggravating to Dazai because (Y/N) was his girlfriend now. Expertly, he kept a straight face. “Well, then, you first,” said Dazai expressionlessly.

            “ ‘My subordinates laze around all day waiting for orders and never take the initiative. What can I do to make them into excellent, autonomous subordinates?’ ” asked Fyodor.

            Dazai thought for a moment before replying. “If your subordinates believe lazing around is a bad thing, they’ll start to put in effort of their own.”

            Fyodor hit his palm with his fist in exclamation. “I see~!”

            “I’ll go next,” said Dazai. “ ‘I fear my girlfriend is upset with me for getting locked up. How should I ensure her affections remain constant?’ ”

            “…” Fyodor minutely narrowed his eyes. He despised how Dazai was in a relationship with his angel. However, he was not less adept than Dazai at hiding emotions. “Well, if you lock her up with you and make her friends abandon her, she’ll only have you to care for.”

            “I see,” said Dazai measuredly. He didn’t plan to take that advice at all, but then again, Fyodor wasn’t going to take his. The words still struck a chord with Dazai because he remembered the overflowing relief in (Y/N)’s eyes when he lifted the blindfold from her eyes and freed her from Fyodor’s grasp. To hear even the mere allusion to Fyodor wanting to kidnap her again angered Dazai greatly.

            The pair quieted and watched each other carefully. They were acting friendly, but anyone watching could sense that they were circling one another and deciding how to attack.

            “Next, why don’t we ask a question at the same time?” proposed Fyodor.

            “Sounds good,” said Dazai. He smirked determinedly. “Tell me…”

            Fyodor smirked condescendingly. “I’d like to know…”

            “How you’re contacting the people outside.” They spoke the words perfectly in tandem.

            Fyodor smiled and relaxed. “Of course, that would be it.”

            “Naturally,” said Dazai. “If I can find out how my opponent sends messages first, I could ask my comrades outside to cut off that line of communication. In other words, I’d win.”

            “You won’t figure out how I’m relaying messages,” said Fyodor calmly.

            “Oh, yes, I will,” countered Dazai. He smiled confidently. “That’s why I came here.”

In another world where neither had to go through everything they did, perhaps Akira and Yosano could have worked out. But they'll always be close, no matter the circumstances. 

[bekoobove]

Fazbear Frights #11: Facing Facts

...After months of unemployment, Samuel is hired for a new, decent job, although some of the conditions are a bit uncomfortable…

 How?

 How could something so painful not kill him?

 He stared into the darkness, praying for death.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “And remember, the rumors surrounding our establishments are just that- rumors. We here at Fazbear Entertainment pride ourselves on our advanced animatronics and delicious pizza, but we also have top-tier safety measures in place. Rest assured, families and employees alike are in good hands. Now, it’s time to begin your journey as part of the Fazbear Family!”

 The screen faded to static and the tape ejected from the VCR. Samuel sighed with relief.

 The man interviewing him returned to the room. “So, uh, what did you think of the training tape?”

 “It was...fine, I guess.” Samuel responded blandly. Truth be told, it had been the most boring half hour of life, but the guy had been bragging about him being the editor, so honesty may not be the best policy in this case. “Say, what’s your name again? I was so swept away by the video that I forgot.”

 “Oh, thank you! Graphic design is my passion. My name’s Alex, Alex Gramble. And now that that’s done with, it’s time for your first day as a Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza employee!”

 “Hooray.” Samuel said dejectedly.

 Alex smiled. “Listen, this is a small town, and news travels fast. I know why you had to come out here, and I figure that wasn’t your plan. But chin up! This job is full of opportunities.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “This is a dead-end career.” Samuel lamented that evening over dinner. “It won’t get me anywhere.”

 “Well, Sammy, I've told you you don’t have to stay.” Grandpa Harry reminded him. “I’ve lived a long, happy life. I don’t want you to give up everything to keep an eye on me.”

 Samuel felt a wave of guilt wash over him. “No, Grandpa, I didn’t mean it like that. Even if no...critical events happen..you still need someone taking care of you. You were an incredible father to my dad, and an incredible grandfather to me. This is the least I could do. Besides, I needed a job anyway. Maybe it was time I settled for something more realistic.”

 “Well, Freddy’s does have those fancy new robots, right?” Grandpa Harry added, poking at his peas. “You’ve always wanted to work with stuff like that.”

 “I don’t get to lay a finger on those.” Samuel rubbed his temples. “They think I’m too inexperienced. For now, they’re just having me harvest parts from the old animatronics.”

 “Those things are still there? I saw ‘em once, they gave me the willies.”

 Samuel sipped some water, a bit nervous. “Trust me, now, they’re much worse.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 He wasn’t exaggerating.

 Freddy’s jaw had been pulled loose, making his once cheery grin much more sinister. Holes in his plush suit indicated the removal of parts. Foxy’s legs had been completely stripped, leaving nothing but exposed, oily metal rods. Chica was probably the worst of them, though. Her beak had been forced open, exposing her toothy endoskeleton, and her hands had been ripped off, leaving dirty wires to trail out her stiff arms.

 Samuel spent hours in this room, alone with these...things, occasionally called to remove a part. With every piece removed, they only got more disturbing.

 His walkie-talkie buzzed. Samuel sighed, then answered. “Hello?”

 Alex’s voice came over the radio. “Hey, Sam. So, Balloon Boy’s eyes are malfunctioning. They keep rolling back into his head. We think there’s something wrong with the sockets. Could you open Bonnie’s faceplate and take out his eyes for replacements?”

 “Faceplate?” Samuel inquired.

 “It’s a feature unique to him. There’s a button located on his neck. Pressing it should cause his face to retract into his head. Easy access to all that stuff, y’know.”

 Samuel was impressed. “Wow, whoever designed these animatronics must have been a genius.”

 There was a pause. “Um...yeah. They were. Anyway, get those parts. And remember, take the animatronics apart gently.”

 “You make it sound like I risk hurting them.”

  “It’s just for safety.” The line went dead.

 Samuel walked over to the Bonnie animatronic, slumped against the wall. While Chica was the outright creepiest of the gang, there was something about Bonnie that unnerved him. The only real damage was his arm, which had been ripped off for use in that plastic fox thing (A horrible use of good parts to be honest; that fox was poorly constructed, practically falling apart at the seams). Still, something about his blank stare was scary. Samuel would be glad to rid it of those eerie eyes.

 He quickly located the button and pressed it. Nothing happened.

 Samuel groaned. “We haven’t removed anything from that area. The wiring for that button should still be in place.”

 He pressed it a few more times. Still nothing

 Samuel began to get angry, and started trying to jimmy open the faceplate. “Come on, come on...stupid animatronics, I don’t want to waste the rest of my life here!”

 His anger caused him to use a little more force than he meant to, and the faceplate ripped off. Samuel fell backwards, gripping it in his hands. There was the sound of wires ripping and metal scraping. Samuel hit the checkered floor, his head banging on the hard linoleum. He struggled to push himself up, dizzy from the collison.

 “Oh, geez.” Samuel muttered, gazing at the plate. It was cracked down the middle, not to mention the damage around the edges from when it was first ripped out.

 “Well, probably not a big deal.” Samuel reasoned, setting the part aside, on a small workbench next to Chica. “These things are being scrapped anyway.”

 He quickly got to work removing the eye sockets.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 He couldn’t taste anything.

 That may not sound that strange. He wasn’t eating a meal or chewing gum after all, so why would he?

 The thing is, while they pale in contrast to that of food, there are always flavors that we detect. From the salty taste of phlegmy spit, to even the subtle bitterness of our own breath.

 He had none of that. It was like a bizarre, mouth-centric sensory deprivation chamber. Of course, most of his other senses were being overstimulated due to how much pain he was in, so it took him a while to notice- a few hours in, at least. But it didn’t take too much muddled, bloodied thought to understand why.

 After all, his tongue was halfway across the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Have a great day, Sammy!- Grandpa Harry.

 Samuel smiled softly at the note. Grandpa seemed to have stuffed it into his toolbox, a kind little gesture from a man who’d spent his whole life making them. It was far better encouragement than the sticker Alex had given him for the box- a picture of that bright blue rabbit with exaggerated eyelashes, with the words You’re A Rockstar! written around it.

 Still, he was starting to warm up to this place, at least a little. Alex, while a bit irritating, was a kind boss, and it wasn’t too stressful around here- after all, the restaurant wasn’t open yet. He’d even brought a book today, knowing he’d have some free time.

 Whistling, he headed to his back room, and gently pushed open the door.

 He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

 Alex had mentioned that the old animatronics might move around during the night because of minor glitches, but the door would guarantee none made it out as long as it was locked. Samuel had seen some evidence of this- their arms changing position, their heads being turned a different way, even Foxy having moved a few feet to the left once- but not like this. Bonnie was on his knees, and he held an old soldering iron in his only hand. It was frozen, held right up to his head. Said head was pressed against a wall, keeping Bonnie’s faceplate in place.

 Samuel was stunned. “Did- did that thing...try to repair itself?” he stuttered. “No, no, there’s no way. Something that advanced just isn’t possible.”

 After removing the sockets, all that had remained of Bonnie’s eyes were two small, reddish lights. Those seemed to stare at Samuel now, almost angrily.

 Samuel walked towards it, and gently pulled the plate out of its grasp. He didn’t know why- maybe just to see if the robot would snatch it back. Nothing happened.

 Samuel tucked the faceplate under Fredddy’s torso, hoping to keep it out of Bonnie’s sights.

 With that done, Samuel pulled over a stool, and sat down to read. He watched Bonnie out of the corner of his eye, daring him to move.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “So, how was work today?” Grandpa Harry asked as Samuel walked into the room.

 “Eh, it was...fine.” Samuel said, trying not to speak over Grandpa’s shows. He tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Grandpa, I wanted to ask you about...the incident that occurred with the animatronics last year.”

 Grandpa Harry froze, then slowly grabbed the remote and paused the show. “Uh, why do you want to know about that?”

 “I’ve heard some other employees whispering about it. I didn’t really care at first, but working with the animatronics...it’s just, they have some odd behaviors. I know the company tried to keep it quiet, but you live in Hurricane. Surely you heard something?”

 Still staring blankly at the paused TV, Grandpa began to explain. “It was a young man named Walter, just over twenty I believe. Wanted to spend some time away from the big city, and moved out here for the summer. He was such a kind boy- volunteered at the local soup kitchen, polite to everyone- even gifted me some books he’d finished reading. But that doesn’t pay the bills, so he took a job as a night-shift Security Guard at Freddy’s. Two nights went by with little incident- then on the third night, something happened, and he never came home.”

 Sniffling, Grandpa Harry grabbed a tissue from the side table and dried his eyes. “Such a kind boy…”

 Unnerved, Samuel prodded further. “But do you know what happened to him? Like, did they find his...y’know…”

 “They found his body, but the details are ‘classified’.” Grandpa Harry said bitterly. “Fazbear Entertainment putting money in the right mouths to keep them shut, yeah? But two things are very clear: those damned moldy old robots were responsible, and their handiwork wasn’t pretty. I’m glad they’re being scattered and scrapped. They won’t hurt anyone else, right, Sammy?”

 “Right.” Samuel said, clearly not confident in his answer. Grandpa didn’t pick up on that, though. He unpaused the TV, and relaxed back into his chair.

 Samuel quietly left the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 He hoped the thing suffered.

 Yes, this thing- this metal abomination- would be broken apart, split into pieces. If this thing was capable of hatred, it should be capable of pain. But he wanted more.

 He wanted his blood, dripping into the machine, to cause all the circuits to malfunction. No part of the robot would ever work again. It would be smashed, crushed, and forgotten forever- made to suffer, like he was suffering now.

 When would he be free?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “See you tomorrow, Samuel. Um, be careful, and like I said, stay away from the animatronics.” Alex reminded him as he put on his coat.

 “Right.” Samuel muttered in response. He’d been given a night shift, since there’d been reports of vandals in the area. After hearing Grandpa Harry’s story, he’d been resistant to the idea, but Management had promised him extra pay, so he relented. And, anyway, the dangerous animatronics were behind the door, so he was safe, right?

 He hardly felt so within an hour. The sounds of whirring gears, electrical sparks, and clamping jaws began to resound from within. Samuel tried to ignore them, continuing to search the street in front for delinquents.

 Eventually, everything quieted, as if the robots had only woken briefly from their slumber to check if the door was locked. But a few minutes later, there came a new noise- the louder, heavy thudding of metallic feet.

 Samuel turned hesitantly, looking down the hall to that foreboding metal door. “It’s just a glitch.” He reminded himself with little confidence. “It’s not...fixing itself.”

 His actions showed his doubt, though. Earlier he’d been sure to remove the soldering iron from the room. Bonnie wouldn’t lay an animatronic finger on it.

 Clearly, that wasn’t enough. Banging began to resound from the room- like metal hitting concrete. The thing seemed to be trying to hammer its face back on with the wall.

 Unlike the others, this sound didn’t stop quickly. It went on for at least ten minutes. Samuel almost felt bad for it- it was just trying to fix itself, right?

 And yet, he remembered Grandpa Harry’s story again. These robotic abominations had cut a good man’s life short. They deserved whatever pain they were going through. There was nothing good in them.

 Finally, Samuel had had enough. He abandoned his post, getting up to storm down the dark hall. Taking the key out of his pocket, he shoved it into the lock and turned firmly, pushing at the same time. The door flew open and hit the adjacent wall with a THUNK!

 Sure enough, Bonnie stood nearby, looking pretty surprised that someone was stupid enough to barge in there. He backed away, moving into a position to leap at Samuel, but dropped the faceplate in the process. Samuel quickly snatched it out of the air as it fell, and slammed the door in the things lack-of-face.

 It shrieked, banging against the solid metal slab as Samuel quickly locked it again. He looked at the fuzzy purple thing in his hand, and noticed something- a small, bloody stain just below its left eyehole.

 Samuel narrowed his eyes and walked away, as Bonnie continued to rage behind him. He ran into the kitchen, turned on one of the ovens, and tossed the faceplate inside.

 The faux fur quickly caught flame, and the rest of the piece quickly followed. All the while, Bonnie was screaming louder, banging harder against the door-

 The faceplate was completely engulfed in fire, and Bonnie fell silent.

 Samuel turned nervously as he shut off the oven. Hesitantly, he returned to the door and knocked, eliciting no response.

 “Uh, Bonnie?” Samuel called out. The silence was far worse than any mechanical scream or furious banging.

 He put the key back in and opened the door slowly. Peeking inside, he saw all the animatronics were still in their proper places, but Bonnie was nowhere to be seen.

 From his left, Samuel heard mechanical shifting. He tried to pull back, but it was too late.

 A rough, bare animatronic hand grabbed him by the face. He felt the sharp metallic parts scratching his nose. Bonnie’s finger jabbed him in the eye. He screamed with pain, hoping someone would hear and come and to help him, unlikely as that was.

 The robot’s grip grew tighter, its claws beginning to break through the skin. It slammed him against the wall, putting its weight against his body, and pulled on his face.

 It used more strength than any cheap pizzeria animatronic should have. From inside his own head, Samuel could hear bone cracking, blood rushing, and tissue snapping. Finally, with one horrible CRUNCH, his skull was ripped loose from his head.

 Samuel should have died at that moment- but he didn’t. His mind, his soul- remained trapped in his skull. He watched his body fall down limply, his jaw hanging loosely as blood cascaded down his neck.

 He looked up at Bonnie, holding his head in its hand. Bonnie tilted his own faceless head, studying the mess of bone and flesh he held.

 After a moment, it slammed the skull into its empty head. Samuel felt sharp crossbeams penetrate his brain, and screamed with agony- or tried at least, lacking a mouth and all.

 Seemingly satisfied with the replacement, the robot collapsed against the wall again, forcing Samuel to stare at his own mutilated form several feet away.

 How long would it keep him alive?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Several hours passed, every moment of them agonizing. Samuel’s soul, trapped with his disembodied head, begged- to Bonnie or a higher power, he wasn’t quite sure- to put an end to his suffering.

 It did eventually.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Harry sat on his porch in a rocking chair, slowly swinging back and forth as he sipped a cup of tea. This was how he’d spent all his mornings since he retired- here in his house on the outskirts of town, watching the sun rise.

 It had been better when his love Margaret was still around though. She’d passed on a decade ago, leaving Harry all alone. His family visited, of course, but his house was empty most of the time.

 Samuel was a blessing. One he felt guilty for having- Samuel had a life of his own to lead, after all. Still, Harry had felt more alive in the week Sammy had been here than he had for years.

 He frowned, and checked his watch. 6:57 AM. Samuel had promised he’d be back no later than 6:45. Was the traffic in town that bad?

 “Oh, well.” Harry chuckled. “I’m old, I’ve got nothing better to do but wait.” He gazed out the road, hoping to see Sammy’s car driving towards him any second.

 He waited for quite a while.

[scarletsugars]

gift shop guy

steven grant x afab reader

synopsis: you go out with the guy from the museums gift shop

warning: 18+, p in v, fingering, bit of daddy kink, bit of name calling: slut, pet names, shy!reader, a bit dom/sub vibes, choking; i think that is it.

word count: 3.7 k

a/n: I never would've thought that this man would have such a chokehold on me. Also please excuse my punctuation it is and always will be my biggest enemy.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You stand there at the exit and help your friend's children get off the bus.

"Sweeties, are you excited about our museum visit?"

Diane who was telling you all about her favorite dinosaur during the ride to the museum screams a happy "yes" and her brother gave you a nod, smiling happily as well.

"Well, I guess we should get in there then, shouldn't we?"

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After analysing every dinosaur skeleton with Diane you guys reach the area that shows all kinds of artefacts from ancient Egypt and find yourself in front of a so-called “sandstone hierakosphinx”. You begin to read the description to Diane and her brother when suddenly someone appears next to you.

"This sphinx was found in the temple of Ramses II and symbolizes royal power. Its head is that of a hawk and the body is that of a lion as you probably have noticed already, hawk-headed sphinxes are also called gryphon. Do you guys know a bit about ancient Egypt and Egyptian mythology?"

You look to your right, tilting your head a little confused, slowly answering.

"yes, we do a little bit."

The man continues his little speech.

"Then the head of this sphinx may remind you of the god Horus, son of Isis, who is most often depicted with a falcon head and a human body or as a falcon wearing a double crown. The Egyptian pharaohs were associated with him because, as you may know, they were considered the earthly embodiment of the god. Horus-"

As he begins another sentence a woman walks towards you two.

"Steven, the gift shop doesn‘t sell the products by itself. Go. Leave the poor woman and her kids alone."

Steven lets out an exasperated sigh and apologizes to you, he gives the kids a little smile. He is quite handsome you have to admit, he is tall, has broad shoulders, dark hair and brown eyes which sparkled a little as he talked to you guys just now. You watch him walk behind the counter where a few children have lined up.

"Auntie, can I get a plush animal?"

Peter asks running over to plush animals and already inspecting the Taweret plush.

"Me too, Auntie please!"

You laugh at the two.

"But only choose one, Sweeties, else your mother is going to kill me."

After both have chosen you walk over to Steven’s counter together and wait in the queue.

"It‘s cute isn‘t it, Auntie?"

Peter asks, petting the plush hippo's head. You nod smiling.

"Can you guess its name, Auntie? No, wait. I'm going to tell you. His name is Frank."

"Actually, her Name is Taweret."

You look from the plush hippo in Peter's hands up into the dark eyes of Steven.

"Oh, she is the goddess who protects our pregnant mommy! Right, Auntie? You told us about her!"

Diane exclaims excitedly.

"Someone knows their goddesses. Your Auntie taught you well."

You chuckle and put the plush animals on the counter for him to scan.

"You seem to know quite a lot about ancient Egypt, have you been working here for a long time?"

You ask curiously, putting your card on the reader.

"Oh right sorry about earlier, I tend to forget that most people aren’t as interested in all this as me, most people just want to enjoy the exhibit in peace."

Steven said, chuckling uncomfortably as he scratches his neck. Looks like he misunderstood your honest curiosity quite well.

"No that’s no-"

You catch yourself stuttering. After taking a deep breath you start the sentence again

"What I meant to say was that I honestly found it interesting. You don’t have to apologize."

You offer him another kind smile, still trying to regain your composure. How was that guy making you so nervous?

The kids take the plushies and are looking at you expectingly.

"I wish I would have had an Auntie as nice as you when I was younger. I wish you guys a nice day, have fun with plush Taweret and Horus!"

Steven chuckles slightly and smiles at the kids. He is really cute and even though it is maybe not the most appropriate thing to do while taking care of your friend’s children, you gather your courage, take out one of your business cards and hand it to him.

"Maybe you'd like to tell me a bit more about ancient Egypt some time on a different occasion, maybe with a coffee or glass of wine."

You smile and receive a dumbfounded look in return. You laugh and the kids wave him goodbye.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You wake up to your phone ringing way too loudly and way too early in the morning.

"Hello?"

You answer with a hoarse voice. Steven is, like so many nights before, trying to stay awake and even though he intended to wait to call you so that he wouldn't seem too desperate, here he is now. After all, he is kind of desperate to talk to you. After such a long time a woman and especially a woman this beautiful is interested in him.

"Oi sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to wake you I- 4 am?! I didn't look at the time, I'm terribly sorry I'll just-"

"Steven? Is that you? It's okay, is everything good?"

You wonder a little as to why he would call at such a weird hour but you aren't complaining, you were really looking forward to getting a call from him, even though it is this early in the morning.

"Yeah, I just- I'm terribly sorry uhm."

Steven laughs uncomfortably.

"Would you like to go to a restaurant and maybe for a drink this weekend? O-or next? Whatever fits your schedule best."

You tell him that this Friday sounds good and that you're looking forward to it. You smile to yourself falling right back asleep.

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Friday evening came and it was a warm one so you wore your favorite sundress. As you cross the street you can already see Steven sitting outside of the restaurant with red roses and a pink heart-shaped box laying on the table. As soon as he sees you he smiles brightly and stands up from his seat, greeting you.

"Hi Steven, have you been waiting for long?"

"Not at all! Oh, right I have something for you! Almost forgot."

Steven takes the roses and the heart-shaped box of chocolate from the table to give it to you. You thank him and with a small giggle sit down at the table.

You both talk a lot about your lives. The evening is nice and refreshing, you haven't had such a nice date in years. Steven is such a sweet man and you actually feel safe in his presence, so you didn't think twice about his offer to go up to his apartment for drinks and to give you some of his books about Egyptian mythology.

His apartment is a bit messy but it looks interesting, especially the big fish tank in which just one goldfish swims. You walk directly towards it.

"It’s so cute! What's its name, Steven? Has it only one fin?"

"Oh, yeah that is my one finned friend Gus. He's a pretty sweet guy once you get to know him, even though he looks like a tough little lad at first."

You both laugh. While Steven searches for the books he wants to give you, you look around his apartment some more.

"You have such a nice apartment! It's so big and- you even have a record player!"

Steven turns and walks over to you putting the books he found next to the record player.

"I do. Would you like to listen to some music?"

You nod in response and he looks through his little vinyl collection.

"Here it is!"

You look at it with amusement.

"Engelbert Humperdinck? A Man Without Love?"

You laughed out loud. He lays his hand on his heart trying to act serious.

"Well, in my defense... it's a good album!”

Steven laughs now too and slowly turns the music up.

"Would you like to dance with me for a bit?"

He asks holding his left hand out for you, grinning. You look down, biting your cheek nervously. You put your right hand in his and lay the other on his shoulder as he lays his right hand on your back. You dance slowly through the room, holding each other. You enjoy the music and the closeness. He is so charming and as you look up into his eyes you see how much they are sparkling in the dim light, it makes you just oh so nervous. 

After a while, you gather up your courage and take your hand out of his, to lay your arms around his neck. His left hand now joins his other and both slowly wander down to your hips, holding them softly. You bite your bottom lip subconsciously, feeling your face heat up as you see the sides of his lips rise slowly into a shy smile. You want to kiss him. You want to kiss him so so bad.

"Y/N, is it okay if I- if I kiss you?"

And that does it for you. You put your lips on his, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling. The kiss was soft and sweet. Steven is caressing your hips and stops the kiss to let you breathe as soon as he notices that you are out of air. You look into each other's eyes for some time until the song changes and Steven softly shakes his head to bring himself back to the present.

"Uhm come on, let me show you the books"

He takes your hand softly and leads you to the table. The two of you take a seat next to eachother.

"So this book gives a general overview of Egypt's history and their culture, this book goes into detail about Egyptian mythology, and last but not least, this book shows the parallels between the Egyptian deities and deities from other pantheons"

"Thank you, Steven. I've learned quite a bit tonight and thank you for the books and well actually the whole evening. I had a lot of fun."

You stack them on top of each other and shoot him a happy smile.

"I'm glad I finally met someone who shares my interest, as well as someone whose ear I can chew off with it."

He laughs, laying his hand on your thigh, caressing it softly.

You notice now just how close the two of you are again and feel your heart beat quicken, so much that you think that the man can hear it.

All of a sudden you feel his fingers on your chin, lifting your head. You look up through your lashes trying your best to regain at least a bit of composure, but you fail to do so as you see the look on his face. 

His pupils have dilated, it looks like he has pitch black eyes. It feels like you are being bitten by thousands of ants as the tension between the two of you rises. You let out a shaky breath and then Steven finally makes a move. 

The moment his soft lips are back on yours you stop holding yourself back. You slide onto his lap, put your arms around the man's neck, and deepen the kiss. Steven's hands slip down from your waist to your ass, carefully caressing it. 

You are enjoying his touches and kisses when he squeezes a gasp out of you. He takes his chance to explore your mouth with his tongue. You let out a quiet moan, suddenly breaking the kiss by putting your hands over your mouth embarrassed at the sound you made seconds earlier. It's been such a long time since you've done something like this. Steven just looks at you with a smug grin

"It's fine, let me hear those sounds. Please. You sound really lovely."

He takes your hands slowly off your mouth.

"If you want to stop you can tell me any time, okay Y/N? Do you want to stop?"

You are a little overwhelmed at how kind he is, but get yourself to shake your head. You don't want to stop, it feels too good. He feels too good.

"S-sorry, just a bit nervous, I haven't done it in a bit, you know."

Steven looks a bit concerned now.

"You don't have to apologize, Sweetheart. If you want to stop or-or maybe continue a different day it is totally fine"

You violently shake your head.

"No. No, please I want to continue, I’m just nervous. Please... I want to continue"

You look at him with big eyes and his energy shifted back to what it was just a minute ago.

"As you wish, Sweetheart"

His lips were back on yours and your arms were back around his neck.

Steven guides you to his bed and takes off his shirt and pants, his defined body has you in awe. You don't notice your staring until Steven lets out a low chuckle.

"You like what you're seeing, hm? Come on Darling, take your cute little dress off."

You do as he says as fast as possible, leaving your underwear on and reconnecting your lips with his.

He helps you onto the bed and crawls on top of you, not stopping the heated and a bit clumsy kiss.

As one of his hands slowly travels from next to your head down to your breasts you feel his tongue entering your mouth again. You let out a whimper.

He takes off your bra and takes one of your nipples between his teeth, playinh with it, flicking it with his tongue and massaging the other breast with his hand.

You squirm a little and felt more and more soft whimpers leaving your mouth. These however slowly turned into moans as Steven kisses down to your core.

As he begins to leaves kisses on the inside of your thighs, all you want for him to do is finally touch you where you need him most.

"Steven... please..."

He grins.

"Darling, I can already see you leaking through your panties. I didn't think you would be such a naughty little girl..."

You let out a louder moan this time, feeling the wetness between your legs grow even more at his words.

Steven carefully took off your panties and throws them somewhere to the side. He looks at your glistening pussy, feeling his mouth begin to water.

He just stares at your core. He does nothing but stare... you can feel the slick wandering down your thighs, feeling so very exposed.

You notice that he seems so different from when you met him and when you were at the restaurant to now.

"Please, Steven."

You plead. You don't know for what exactly but you would be happy with anything he would give you right now. You just need him to do something.

And he does. Steven slides his fingers between your folds, gathering your slick with his finger, and inserts one, slowly moving it in and out.

After adding the second one you let out a long moan.

"Ooooooh gods, S-Steven please, I need you..."

You look at him with big eyes.

"What do you want me to do, Love? Tell me."

"Please. P-please don't tease me... just... just... I need you inside"

He lets out a groan.

"Gods, you're making me go bonkers."

Steven stands up and peels off the last piece of his clothing. His dick is so hard that it smacks against his lower abdomen.

You gulp. He is bigger than you expected, a lot bigger.

After putting on a condom he notices your concerned face and caresses your cheek.

"Don't worry, I'll be very careful, my Darling"

And he is. He is so very careful, reassuring you that everything is going to be fine every time your expression changes even if just a little.

"Good girl. You're such a good girl, taking me so well."

He is still caressing your cheek and kissing you sweetly as he bottoms out.

"You're doing so well, my Darling"

He says as you close your eyes to relax.

After you adjusted to his size you open your eyes back up and ask him to move.

He does, but keeps his slow and careful pace, still trying his best to not hurt you. He is handling you like a fragile little thing, as if you would break if he moves any faster.

In response you slowly begin to move your hips under him, needing to feel more. His cock is stretching you so well, you just can't hold back.

"Please, Stevie. Please. Please faster."

Your wish is his command. He begins to quicken his pace bit by bit, increasing the volume of your moans with it.

If you could think straight you would worry about his neighbors hearing you but your head is all fogged up right now. All you can think about is Steven, the way he ruts into you relentlessly, the way his thick cock fills you up perfectly, just Steven.

Even though his pace has increased you still need more. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms grab onto his shoulders. You're gripping so hard that you are probably going to leave scratch marks there.

"You're taking me so so well, my good girl. Whose good girl are you, hm? You're my good girl, right?"

You can’t concentrate, the only thing you are able to focus on is the pleasure you feel and the grunts that are leaving Steven's mouth.

His pace suddenly decreases and you start to whine at the missing friction.

"Please... Please..."

Is the only thing you are able to say, needing him to move again so badly.

"Tell me, sweethear, whose good girl are you, hm? Are you this cock drunk already that you can’t answer me anymore?"

You try your best to register his words.

"Y-yours? I-I'm your good girl. Your good girl, daddy."

You manage to choke out from your sore throat and begin to move your hips just to feel any friction again.

Steven looks at you a little surprised. He doesn't complain about the nickname but he was curious now. What else would he be able to get out of you?

Your movements are snapping him out of his thoughts. He grabs you by your waist and pins it down to the bed to stop your movements.

"No moving without my permission. Didn't think my sweet girl would be such a slut for me."

"D-daddy please, I-I'm sorry", you whine "I just need you to-"

He slaps your clit.

You let out a high-pitched moan.

He didn't know exactly where his bursts of confidence nor the sudden profanities come from but he doesn't care, seeing that it clearly works on you.

"D-daddy please, I need you to. I-It hurts so much."

You look at him with watery eyes. You just needed him to move, just a bit.

"Please. Please. Please. Please."

You are reciting the pleas like a prayer, waiting to finally be answered.

As if the gods have heard you, Steven continues his movements, his thrusts are harder, deeper this time. 

You are back to moaning again, babbling nonsense as his speed and strength increase even more. Feeling the knot in your stomach tighten you clench down on his cock.

"No cumming yet, baby. Wait for me, okay? Wait for daddy's permission."

You nod completely out of breath.

Steven forcefully grabs both your legs and puts them over his shoulders. The new angle has the both of you seeing stars. You can hear a few high-pitched moans escaping from his mouth as well.

"D-daddy. Daddy can't any l-longer."

You try your best to hold your orgasm in but it was getting harder and harder by the second.

Steven's hand snakes around your throat and a few thrusts later he finally gives you his permission.

"You can come now."

And you come with a quiet scream. You throw your head back, seeing flashes of light appear in front of your eyes. Your whole body was shaking and twitching.

Steven comes a few thrusts later, riding his orgasm out.

He lies down right next to you, both still panting trying to regain your breaths.

Steven is the first to move. He throws the condom away, lies back down, and wraps his arms around you. He pulls you closer, smiling brightly.

You smile to yourself as well.

"Thank you."

He kisses your neck carefully and lays his head on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh, I hope I didn't scare you..."

"N-no need to be sorry, I had a lot of fun, even though I am still a bit surprised about the sudden change of character. It was just really unexpected."

You let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah for me too... Would you… would you maybe like to do that again? Not today of course but soon? Another date I mean, not just the sex thing."

Steven asks, caressing your waist.

"Sorry was that too early, Sweetheart?"

"No, no it's perfectly fine. Of course, I would love to."

You turn around to him and kiss his swollen lips softly.

"Would you like to tell me a bit more about the Ennead now?"

"Gods, please marry me."

You both laugh and you cuddle up next to him, slowly drifting to sleep while listening to his calm voice.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

my masterlist

comfort character letters

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[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!!

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 9

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky brings you and Mackenzie with him to an important meeting.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Uhhhh hmm work tension, sexual tension, idk Bucky and Mackenzie being annoying as usual lmao

A/N: ALSO I know I haven’t mentioned what the fuck Bucky’s company is all about because c’mon, I didn’t expect I’d get this far lmao so IDK there might be continuity issues or inaccuracies or whatevah, just ignore it lmao it’s fiction. ANYWAAAY, I just want to say how GRATEFUL AND OVERWHELMED I am with the amount of attention that this series is getting. I appreciate every feedback, every ask and every freaking debate about this shit lmfao. I love you guys. I can’t put into words how much I appreciate you all askcnasjkcnak bye

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Don't let Bucky or Mackenzie get to you.

Mark's advice rang in your ears like a chant as you watched Bucky and Mackenzie's exchange about the project. Joining them in the conference room for a major brainstorming session was you and a couple of people from your team with Beverly taking down the minutes of the meeting.

The upcoming project was a huge one, given that Barnes Group of Companies was a huge name in the automobile industry. Meanwhile, Wilson Enterprises is one of the biggest autonomous vehicle technology companies out there. This partnership was one for the books, possibly an industry changer too.

You wanted to be a part of it, wanted to spearhead the entire thing and watching Mackenzie take the reigns on this one was truly making your blood boil.

"That sounds like a nice idea, Kenzie." Bucky praised, nodding his head.

Mackenzie shrugged, "It's what I do, Buck." she said.

"Yeah, it's a great idea. I do have some comments though, if you don't mind?" you asked.

Bucky and Mackenzie exchanged glances before turning to you. You glanced at Bucky for a quick second before ignoring the way he was eyeing you with genuine interest.

"I know that bringing in a celebrity to endorse this brand new model would definitely create noise around the partnership. Although I think that would take the spotlight away from the actual product we're creating here. We want customers to focus on the brand new car model and the technology that Wilson Enterprises will be providing it with, not on the celebrity endorser." you explained.

Mackenzie hummed, "I get where you are coming from. That's a good point, actually. But a celebrity endorser will pretty much do everything for the brand. Have him up on billboards and different advertisements and you're all set." she further explained.

You chuckled, "But then how will people understand what the entire partnership is all about? Aren't we supposed to be communicating a certain message to our consumers? Wouldn't it be better to hold an event to launch the product instead? Invite the press and key opinion leaders to spread the word. Have Bucky and Mister Wilson talk about this partnership. They're famous and powerful enough to get the message across. Why waste the budget on a celebrity when we literally have everything we need to make noise?" you shrugged.

The entire room was silent after your feedback, even Mackenzie wasn't able to respond to your suggestion. Glancing over at Bucky, you saw that he was giving you the look-- the one with half-lidded eyes matched with a head tilt, the one that often resulted to him giving you a very nice reward once office hours are over.

Feeling your breath hitch in your throat, you quickly looked away and shrugged your shoulders, "I mean, that's just my two cents. Having worked here for years, I just based it on my experience. You're the expert here, Mackenzie." you offered a proud smile.

Mackenzie tried to brush it off and turned to Bucky, "What do you think, Buck? I'm still into the idea of hiring a celebrity. That's good publicity. And let's not get worried about the budget now," she said, placing a hand on top of Bucky's that was resting on the table, "I have a lot of connections so I can definitely get an endorser for a much lower rate." she reassured.

"We may have a huge budget for this, but that doesn't automatically mean that we have to use it all up. We can allocate it somewhere else, maybe start a CSR campaign as well? We are, after all, coming out with an environmental-friendly model." you suggested.

You heard Bucky when he took a sharp inhale, bringing his hands up to rub his lips as if in deep thought. He then turned to Beverly, however, his eyes remained on you.

"Take note of everything she says." he reminded her before standing up.

He asked everyone else in the room of their opinions, whether it was your or Mackenzie's idea that the company will go for. The team was divided in half, some of them preferring Mackenzie's celebrity pitch probably because they didn't want to do a lot of work.

Bucky nodded, "Well, I guess we'll have to discuss both ideas with my partner Sam and let's see where we will go from there. I have a meeting with him this afternoon, I need you and Kenzie with me there." he said, looking at your before turning to Kenzie with a charming smile.

Don't let them get to you.

-

You've never wanted for the ground to swallow you up until this moment as you stood behind Bucky and Mackenzie in the elevator. This felt so much more uncomfortable than when you shared it with Bucky after swiping right with him on Tinder. There was still tension and it felt so much worse now because you didn't know whether it was between you and Bucky or him and Mackenzie.

Fucking Mackenzie and her nicely manicured nails which always seemed find its way around Bucky's arm. You eyed her hands as they squeezed his arm, the both of them talking in hushed voices as if you weren't standing behind them.

"I've been dying to try this restaurant, I heard they serve good food. Do you want to go have dinner there sometime this week?" she asked Bucky.

"I'll check my schedule, which restaurant is this?" he asked.

When Mackenzie uttered the name of that restaurant where you celebrated your promotion, you and Bucky choked on your own spits at the same time. Warmth crept up to your cheeks at the same time Bucky's ears reddened.

"Oh, what's going on?" Mackenzie asked with a nervous chuckle as she looked at you and Bucky, struggling with your coughs.

You recovered first and shook your head, "Sorry, I get allergies. Anyway, I've been to that restaurant. They do serve good food, the staff was very hospitable as well. I'm sure Bucky would enjoy it there." you said with a smile, pushing your way past them when the elevators door slid open.

Mackenzie asking Bucky whether he was up for dinner was the last thing you heard. Good luck explaining to her why he's banned from there, you thought to yourself.

Bucky led the way to his car and it instantly brought certain memories back. You weren't going to lie, you missed the fucking and how Bucky always made sure to take care of your needs. Seeing his car was enough to make your thighs clench at the memory of him fingering you as he drove.

His gaze was on you when he opened the door to the passenger's seat, his eyes inviting as you approached him. And just as when you were about to slip in, he turned over to Mackenzie and gestured for her to get in.

What a fucking asshole, you thought to yourself as you took a step back to ride in the back instead. You tried to keep your expression stoic when you saw that Bucky checked for a reaction. He seemed perplexed when he saw that you didn't react that much to what he did.

One hundred points to Gryffindor.

-

The location for the meeting was at a nearby restaurant so you didn't suffer that much during the entire ride. Mackenzie was busy with her phone anyway, typing out messages with those manicured fingers you were beginning to hate.

By the time all three of you arrived, Sam was already there. He donned a navy blue suit and he was rocking it. You'd seen his photos on the internet and knew that he was good-looking, but seeing him in the flesh, you were stunned at how gorgeous he was. Sam stood up when he saw Bucky, offering a kind smile to you and Mackenzie.

You weren't sure whether you were just being assuming or what, but you noticed how his eyes lingered on you longer that it did with Mackenzie.

"Sam." Bucky greeted, shaking his hand before introducing you and Mackenzie.

Sam shook Mackenzie's hand first before he turned to you. You took his hand and introduced yourself, "Mister Wilson." you said.

"Please, just Sam." he told you as he gently squeezed your hand before letting go.

"Have a seat." Sam said to Bucky and Mackenzie before pulling out the chair next to him, motioning for you to sit down.

You thanked him and sat down; straightening up, you were met with Bucky's watchful gaze as he sat down across you. Your attention was taken away when Sam asked what you wanted to order, he even suggested a certain dish and immediately went to discuss that it was his favorite thing to order.

This was going to be an interesting meeting.

And interesting it truly was, because you didn't expect for Sam to be so laid-back and easy to communicate with. He wasn't one of those uptight CEOs who were very intimidating to work with. Simply put, he was the complete opposite of Bucky. While Bucky was ice cold, Sam was sunshine and warmth with his attitude.

When it came down to pitching your and Mackenzie's ideas to him, you suddenly got nervous. Sam wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth; from what you've read, he started off working regular jobs before he climbed his way to the top. He was a self-made man and he had extensive knowledge in the marketing industry, having a doctorate degree in the said area.

Mackenzie was the first to discuss her strategy about hiring a celebrity endorser. She said it was fast and straight to the point. When it was your turn, you started off a bit shaky but eventually found your pacing.

"We wanted to ask you how this should go on about. I know that the offer for a partnership came from our end and that we're supposed to pitch the details for it. But we wanted you to be involved in this as much as we are." Bucky further explained.

Sam nodded and let out an amused chuckle, "I really appreciate this, Buck. I was going to ask you if I can contribute with the planning as well. I'm very particular when it comes to marketing our products." he said.

"That being said, I loved both ideas. I think hiring a celebrity endorser is good." he said, making Mackenzie smile proudly.

"But I would rather hold an event to launch the product. You understand the product and what we want to do with it. It's not just a brand new car, it's an innovation and the messaging is very important. I'm very impressed." Sam said, his attention geared towards you.

"Wow, I'm honored." you laughed. "Coming from you, I mean I've read about the marketing studies you did. Pretty big deal to receive a compliment from you." you admitted.

It was meant to be a genuine reaction, really. You had no ill intentions for it, you didn't do it to make Bucky jealous or get the upper hand. However, your passion for your career and area of expertise seemed to favor you. It had Bucky on edge, seeing you and Sam get along so well.

You didn't even need to check for Bucky's reaction because he simply cleared his throat and excused himself to go to the restroom. Mackenzie seemed unbothered though, when Sam favored your pitch over hers. You couldn't read her, sometimes she'd come off competitive but right now, she was unaffected.

When Bucky got back, he was quick to finalize the meeting, "I guess it's a done deal then. We'll work on the details of the launch and maybe we can set another meeting for the major presentation for your approval?" he asked Sam.

"That sounds like a plan. I'm looking forward to working with you." Sam told everyone, although he did seem to be directly addressing you.

"Alright, I'm leaving too." Mackenzie announced after Sam left the restaurant.

"Oh, you're not heading back to the office with us?" Bucky asked.

Mackenzie shook her head, throwing her bag over her shoulder, "I have another meeting. You know how it is with freelance work." she said as all three of you stood up to head outside of the restaurant.

"My Uber's here, I guess I'll see you both sometime this week." she said and waved at you before turning to Bucky and pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm counting on that dinner, okay?" she reminded before slipping into her Uber, leaving you and Bucky to head back to the office together.

Alone with Bucky. In his car. The exact same car where plenty of fucking happened. Again, you chanted Mark’s advice in your head over and over again.

Don’t let Bucky get to you. And most of all, don’t cave in.

You quickly slipped inside the front seat of Bucky’s car before he could even open it up for you. The air was thick between you and Bucky and it almost felt like it was suffocating you. Reaching for the seatbelt, you tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge. Cursing to yourself, you tried again but to no avail.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing. Seatbelt’s just stuck.” you grunted, using both your hands to pull down at it.

“Here, let me.”

Suddenly, Bucky reached over to your seatbelt and tried to fix it. His face was inches away from yours and you literally felt your insides jump at how you were immediately drowned in his perfume. If you moved forward so much as half an inch, your lips would already be pressing against the corner of Bucky’s mouth. And that thought was sending your senses into overdrive.

Do not. Cave. In.

The loud click of the seatbelt made you relax and thank goodness that Bucky was quick to move away from you, fixing his suit before starting the engine. The office may just be nearby but the fact that you and Bucky were together was making it feel like it was going to be an hour-long drive.

“So what do you think about Sam?” Bucky asked out of the blue.

He was gauging you, trying to get a reaction from you. Maybe he was expecting you to be flirty with your response, or be defensive even? You weren’t going to give him that.

“I think he’s great. Like I said, I’ve read his marketing studies and they were very insightful. I learned a lot.”

Plain, simple and safe. There was no hidden meanings and no malice; you were doing great at this whole not letting Bucky get to you thing. You made a mental note to thank Mark for his advice.

“He seems interested in you.” Bucky said again, shrugging his shoulders a bit and trying to be as nonchalant as he could.

“Well we are in the same field of expertise and I was very straightforward about admiring his skills. I’d be disappointed if he brushed off my ideas.” you slightly chuckled.

“I liked Mackenzie’s idea better, honestly.” Bucky blurted out.

By this time, you had Bucky’s plans figured out. He was coming for your job, using it as a bait to get a reaction out from you. He knew how much your career meant for you, how competitive you were in your field. Whenever his other tactics wouldn’t work, he’d always go for the career aspect.

“It was good.” you agreed, turning to Bucky with a small smile. “I think we can do that for other campaigns. Just not with this partnership. I like her.” you said.

“You do?” Bucky asked in surprise before he cleared his throat upon realizing that he sort of broke his facade.

You shrugged, “She’s a headstrong woman. She reminds me of myself actually.”

If you were alone, you would have given yourself a high-five because that statement truly made Bucky think. His forehead creased as he drove, his hand rubbing his chin and his jaw clenching as if he was in deep thought.

It was silent inside the car for a brief moment, before it was interrupted by the trilling of Bucky’s phone. He fished it out of his pocket but before he could even answer it, it slipped out of his hand and disappeared beneath his seat.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed, both his hands on the steering wheel as he continued to drive, his attention divided between driving and searching for his ringing phone.

“Shit.” he hissed again, not knowing how to get his phone while driving. He quickly glanced at you before focusing on the road again. “Baby, can you get it for me?”

You almost missed the term of endearment. Almost. It was obviously a slip of the tongue because he genuinely didn’t seem to realize that he called you that. Bucky was more focused on the road rather than processing what he just said. You chose to ignore it the same way you did to the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Yeah, okay.” you said and reached over to him, bending down to look for his phone.

In a split second, your face was right in front of Bucky’s crotch as you tried to reach beneath his car seat. You tried to ignore the bulge that was staring right at you and let your hand do the searching.

“Can you reach it?” Bucky asked.

You straightened up, “No. Can you pull aside?” you asked.

Bucky checked the surroundings and then the rearview mirror, “We can’t. We’re at a no loading and unloading zone.” he explained.

The phone continues to trill and it doesn’t seem like it would stop any time now. You sighed and removed your seatbelt before stretching your body over Bucky, slipping underneath his arms on the steering wheel so you can fully reach under his seat.

From another car’s view, you looked like you were giving him a blowjob. Not that you haven’t done that before, in this same car.

Finally, you felt his phone at the tip of your fingers and stretched further, your free hand coming to grip Bucky’s thigh unintentionally. It was only when you felt his muscles flex beneath his trousers that you realized how near your hand was to his crotch.

“Did you,” Bucky cleared his throat. “Did you get it?” he stammered.

You still have a certain effect on him, how very nice. Biting back a smirk, you hummed in response before pulling back and then handing him his phone casually. Mackenzie’s name was flashing on the screen as the phone continued to ring.

“Sorry, can you answer it and put it on speakerphone?” Bucky asked again.

You shrugged and did as you were told, holding the phone near Bucky as he continued to drive.

“Hey, Kenzie. Sorry, I dropped my phone. What’s up?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, so my meeting got cancelled at the last minute. I was thinking maybe we can grab that dinner tonight instead?”

Bucky stole a quick glance from you but your face remained stoic, your hand steady as you held out his phone.

“Sure, how does around 7pm sound? I can pick you up.” Bucky offered.

“Sounds great. So are we checking that restaurant I was talking about?”

Bucky’s ears turned red again but he quickly recovered, “I was thinking of trying out a different one. I honestly didn’t like their dessert.”

Huh, that was weird. You and Bucky didn’t even make it to--

Fuck, he was talking about you, you realized. Clenching your jaw, you tried to keep calm. He was trying to get a rise out of you, don’t give in. Don’t react. Bucky’s conversation with Mackenzie didn’t last long and ended when they settled the location for their dinner.

The ride back to the office was quiet again, until your phone lit up from a notification. Bucky was already parking in the basement when you checked your phone, an audible gasp slipping past your lips upon reading the notification from LinkedIn.

Samuel Wilson wants to connect with you.

-

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii​​ @jessou893​​ @stealapizzamyheart​​ @bagelofthelord​​ @mxnt​​ @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky​​ @ohladymacbeth​​ @wildflowergubler​​ @supraveng​​ @twinerd14​​ @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3​​ @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm​​ @charminivy​​ @amelia-song-pond​​ @iamvalentinaconstanza​​ @mcubqrnes @im-squished​​ @tcc-gizmachine​​ @sipsteacasually​​ @prettyintopeerpressure​​ @weloveyasmin​ @est19xxshit​ @bloodhon3yx​ @dressed-in-prada​ @lizette50​ @thatfangirl42​ @sunflowerbunny2​ @unmagically​ @okiegirl24​ @sugarpunch-princess​ @enlyume​ @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp​ @lyoongx​ @just-deka​ @nobody-will​ @jaziona92 @elisebuitron​ @dpaccione​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x​ @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes​ @iloveangstposts​ @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman​ @reidbuck​ @lizzarooni​ @girlfriday007​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @its-yasbxtch​ @whoth3hellisbucky

[marengogo]

NAKED - 1: Each Other’s Company

Lo Vas A Olvidar (with ROSALIA) - by Billie Elish  [Lo Vas A Olvidar (with ROSALIA)]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

I know we are probably all on a high from the content we’ve been given thus far from Memories 2021. I have reason to believe more content might be arriving, so while we wait to witness everything in its full glory, I’d like to take a moment to take a moment and talk about something which is related to Jikook and their moments. 

I’d like to begin with stripping them off, slowly, bit by bit of some of today’s moments, until they are completely “NAKED”. So what have we got today?

A bit of flirting:

Lots of messing around:

Some invasion of personal space:

And much more to be honest. So here’s the thing, I’d like to all just stripped them of the value/meaning of the moments for a second. The only thing I’d like you to keep is the camera that is filming and picturing them because that is their reality. This camera that gets everyone so conflicted! Camera that give us moments like this

and the shit that comes with it such as “it’s paid content, so obviously it is all fanservice”, “oh but so-and-so members also did the same thing”, “can’t you tell that so-and-so is uncomfortable” etc. I’d like you to strip off that noise as well. So for now you have a 24 year old young man and one of 26, who, call it whatever you want to call it, often find themselves in front of this camera; together. They spend so much time together. It doesn’t matter the content, the time, the person saying it, the content provider, the rumor, the proof, the FACT IS they are mostly always together. 

And here comes JKK_OBSERVATION_3.mg. Be it JM wanting to mess around with JK, be it JK wanting to be around JM, be it JM looking for comfort in JK when he is embarrassed, be it JK trying to make sure that JM is doing well etc, etc. Whatever it is, they always seem to seek each other AND at some point they’ve just had to accept that the camera was going to be there. Afterall, I have reason to believe that with JK having taken so many videos and pictures of JM, they might have gotten used to it (for the most part)? It’s almost as if JK got them to be accustomed and comfortable to be in front of that machine. It’s almost as if by themselves playing around with cameras, they’ve also become aware of what it is that is going to be shown, what it is that they can show and what it is that they want to show.

Somewhere along the way they might have stopped caring. Somewhere along the way, they’ve perhaps decided to try and conquer the fear of that box called camera. And I don't believe the fear is completely gone, sometimes JM is still a bit self-conscious with it and sometimes JK is overly-aware, but all in all I think they are handling it just fine. Creating more positivity for the two of them, out of something that over time has brought the two of them so much negative as well (not referring to the boys as BTS, but specifically them as “Jikook”).

The “naked” concept that should be understood from today, past the moments, the trolling, the speculation and all that comes with it, is that these two young men really, truly, seek each other’s company. For some reason they only know, but it seems to never be enough, even after all these years something is making them want to seek each other’s company. What is this something they only know, some may call it love, some don’t dare to, but whatever it is, refusing to acknowledge this mere simple fact is weird? For lack of better words.

Anyways, aren’t they lucky they have each other? I’m sure they know and just that, gives me solace.

Wow ... ROSALÍA and Billie really got me all in my feels 😂😂😂

... Peacefully yours,

Marengo.